Moonrise

Chapter 16

A cold raindrop splashed onto Leafpaw’s fur, and she shook it away irritably. Above her, a restless wind stirred the trees, sending brittle scarlet and gold leaves drifting into the clearing. Leaf-bare was barely a moon away, but it seemed like the least of the Clan’s troubles.

“The rabbit smelled bad,” Cinderpelt reported to Firestar.

“Barkface said that cats who ate them died. I believe him.

This rabbit we saw wasn’t infected with any sort of sickness I’ve encountered. It must be something the Twolegs have done.”

Crouched beside the fresh-kill pile in the ThunderClan camp, Leafpaw listened anxiously as her mentor told Firestar what they had discovered on their way to Highstones.

Leafpaw’s heart twisted with pity to see the shock in her father’s green eyes as he listened.

“This means we can’t eat rabbits either,” he meowed.

“Great StarClan, what next? We’ll all starve.”

“No cat has died in our territory yet,” Sandstorm pointed out from where she sat a tail-length away, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws. She twitched as a falling leaf brushed against her ear. “Maybe the trouble’s just in WindClan.”

“But rabbits run across the border all the time,” replied Cinderpelt. “It might be safe to eat rabbits from the other end of our territory, near the Treecut place, but I don’t think we should take the risk even there.”

“You’re right.” Firestar heaved a deep sigh. “I’ll announce it to the rest of the Clan. No more rabbits.”

“Well, we have to eat something.” Sandstorm got briskly to her paws. “I’ll get my hunting patrol together and see what we can find.” She padded away and disappeared between the branches of the warriors’ den.

“Meanwhile,” mewed Cinderpelt, “we’d better get rid of any rabbits in the fresh-kill pile.”

Leafpaw studied the pathetically small pile of prey. There was only one rabbit; it looked plump and inviting, and her mouth watered at the sight of it. She hadn’t had such a good meal for days. Then her belly cramped at the thought of what the Twolegs might have done to it. She thought she could catch a whiff of the harsh scent that had clung to the WindClan rabbit, but this rabbit’s scent was so mixed up with that of the other prey in the pile that she could not be sure.

“Take it outside the camp and bury it,” Firestar directed.

“Wait—don’t pick it up in your mouth,” Cinderpelt added.

“Push it out with your paws, and then clean them with moss.”

Leafpaw had just separated the rabbit from the pile when Dappletail, the oldest cat in the Clan, came past and gave the prey an appreciative look.

“I hope that’s for the elders,” she rasped. “My belly’s flap-ping like a leaf in the wind.”

“No.” Cinderpelt explained what she and Leafpaw had seen in WindClan territory.

“What? I’ve never heard such nonsense!” Dappletail snorted. “WindClan has a bit of trouble, so ThunderClan can’t eat rabbits? Barkface might have been lying, just to weaken ThunderClan. They’ve always been a proud, deceitful Clan.

Have you thought of that?”

Leafpaw exchanged a glance with her mentor. She could see there would be no point in trying to convince Dappletail.

The old cat wanted the rabbit.

“The decision’s been made.” Firestar spoke with the authority of Clan leader. “No more rabbits. Leafpaw will take that one out and bury it.”

“She’ll do no such thing!” Outraged, Dappletail darted for the rabbit and began tearing into it hungrily and gulping down huge mouthfuls.

“No!” Cinderpelt exclaimed. “Stop!”

Firestar sprang forward, pushing himself between the elder and her prey, and thrusting her gently away. “Dappletail, I’m ordering you not to eat that. It’s for your own good.”

The old cat’s eyes burned into his, her gaze full of hostility. Seeing her skinny body, her tortoiseshell pelt dull and patchy, Leafpaw could understand her desperation. The old cat was usually one of the gentlest queens; only starvation would have driven her to this.

“Do you call yourself a leader?” she spat at Firestar. “The whole Clan will starve, and it will be your fault.”

“Firestar’s doing the right thing,” Cinderpelt insisted.

“There’s no point feeding the Clan with food that could kill us quicker than any hunger.”

Dappletail turned on her, with lips drawn back in the beginnings of a snarl. Then she whipped around and stalked across the clearing toward the elders’ den.

Leafpaw watched her go. “Please, StarClan, let that rabbit be safe,” she murmured as she began to push the half-eaten remains toward the camp entrance.

A withered brown leaf spiraled down in front of Leafpaw as she padded up the ravine beside Cinderpelt. It was the day following their return from Highstones and the argument with Dappletail over the rabbit. Cinderpelt was stocking up on the herbs the Clan would need to see them through leaf-bare—weakened by hunger, the Clan would be in danger of greencough and deadly blackcough even more than usual.

“There’s no point in going anywhere near the Twoleg monsters,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Nothing grows where they’ve been. We’ll head for Sunningrocks and see what we can find there.”

Dead leaves lay thickly on the ground, stirred up by a stiff breeze. When she was a kit, Leafpaw would have loved to toss them in the air and chase them. Now she hardly had the energy to go on putting one paw in front of another.

Soon Sunningrocks appeared ahead of them, smooth gray mounds rising out of the grass like the backs of sleeping animals. Almost at once Cinderpelt found a thick clump of chickweed and began carefully biting off the stems. Leafpaw cast around to see what else she could find, looking longingly down to the bank of the river where plants grew thickly, their roots fed by the water. But that was RiverClan territory, and after being punished for the fishing lesson with Mothwing, Leafpaw knew better than to trespass.

She heard a scrabbling close beside her and turned to see a vole scuttling along the base of the nearest rock. In the same heartbeat the vole sensed her and darted for a crevice, but before it could gain safety Leafpaw had sprung on it and bit down hard on its neck.

Her belly was crying out to gulp down the prey, but instead she forced herself to pick it up and go looking for Cinderpelt.

Her mentor was where she had left her, arranging the stems of chickweed, ready to carry them back to camp.

“Here,” Leafpaw mewed, dropping the vole in front of Cinderpelt.

Her mentor looked up at her, blinking in gratitude. “No, Leafpaw. You caught it, so you eat it.”

Leafpaw shrugged, trying to sound unconcerned. “I can catch another.” She knew that Cinderpelt , with her crippled leg, would have more trouble hunting than any other Clan cat. “Go on,” she added, when Cinderpelt still didn’t start eating. “What will happen to ThunderClan if our medicine cat falls ill?”

Cinderpelt let out a purr, and touched her nose to Leafpaw’s muzzle. “All right. And thanks, Leafpaw.”

She crouched in front of the vole and disposed of it in rapid, neat bites. Leafpaw was just about to go look for more herbs, when she heard a voice yowling, “Cinderpelt!

Cinderpelt!”

The medicine cat sprang up, ears pricked. “Over here!” she called.

Mousefur’s apprentice, Spiderpaw, burst out of the trees, his long gray-black legs a blur as he raced across the grass and skidded up to Cinderpelt. “You’ve got to come,” he panted.

“It’s Dappletail!”

“What’s wrong?” Cinderpelt asked, while Leafpaw’s heart began to pound.

“She’s complaining of feeling sick,” Spiderpaw replied.

“She says her belly hurts.”

“That rabbit!” Cinderpelt exclaimed. “I knew it. Okay,” she added to Spiderpaw. “I’m on my way. You run ahead and tell them I’m coming.”

Spiderpaw dashed off again while Cinderpelt turned to Leafpaw. “You stay here; there’s no need for both of us to go back,” she meowed. “Collect more herbs. And bring that chickweed back with you.”

She started limping as fast as she could toward the trees.

Leafpaw waited until her mentor had vanished into the bracken before turning back to her search. What was it Barkface had said about treating cats who had eaten deadly rabbits? He had dosed the sick cats with yarrow, but almost all of them had died. Only the strongest pulled through—but Dappletail was old, and already weakened by hunger.

Oh, StarClan help us! Leafpaw prayed. Show us what to do, before the Twolegs destroy us all.

She had just begun to search for herbs again when she heard the shrill wailing of a cat coming from the river. For a moment she wondered if she ought to cross the RiverClan border. She made up her mind when the wail came again; some cat was in trouble. Without any more hesitation Leafpaw bounded down the slope.

The river surged along between its banks, swollen by leaf-fall rain. Branches and other debris were swept along in the current, bobbing and swirling on the white-tipped ripples.

Leafpaw gazed out over the water, wondering where the cry had come from. Then she spotted a branch surging along close to the RiverClan side; half hidden by its few remaining leaves was the small black head of a cat. As Leafpaw watched, it opened its jaws wide to let out another terrified wail as it clung to a branch for its life.

Leafpaw tensed, ready to leap into the river even though her common sense told her that it would do no good. The current was too strong and swift, and the drowning cat was too far away.

Just before she leaped she saw another cat thrust its way through the reeds on the far bank and jump into the river, striking out with strong paws toward the floating branch.

Leafpaw recognized the blue-gray fur at once: It was Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy.

She watched, claws flexing in and out in anguish, as Mistyfoot reached the branch and began to push it across the current toward the RiverClan bank. But before they reached it the waves rolled the branch right over, dragging Mistyfoot with it so that she disappeared into the black water. Leafpaw let out a gasp of horror. Then there was a splash and she resurfaced closer to the bank, where her paws found a foothold on the pebbles. Leafpaw shivered with relief as she watched Mistyfoot drag the other cat out by the scruff of its neck and crouch beside it. The tiny, bedraggled shape lay utterly still, water streaming from its pelt.

“Can I help?” Leafpaw called, wondering if Mistyfoot would remember that she was a medicine cat apprentice.

Mistyfoot glanced up. “Yes! Come over!”

Leafpaw raced down the bank until she reached the stepping-stones. Floodwater was lapping over them, but she launched herself onto the first without hesitating. Moments could mean the difference between life and death for the black cat.

She was leaping for the third stone when her paws slipped and she scrabbled frantically against the slick wet surface. The river bubbled around her and for a heartbeat she thought she would be swept away, drowning and tumbling in bottomless black water. In the midst of surging terror she felt a warm touch on her side, pushing her back onto the stone. A sweet scent drifted around her, strangely familiar.

“Spottedleaf?” Leafpaw whispered.

She could see nothing, but she sensed the reassuring presence close to her, the same as in her dream beside the Moonstone. As if she had grown wings, she leaped quickly over the other stones and dashed along the far bank toward Mistyfoot and the cat she had rescued.

Before Leafpaw could reach them, Hawkfrost and Mothwing pushed their way out of the reeds and stood over the black cat.

“What happened?” Hawkfrost demanded.

“Reedpaw fell in the river. We need Mudfur,” Mistyfoot meowed. “Can you fetch him? Quickly!”

“He went out to collect herbs,” Mothwing told her. “I’ll go and look for him.”

She sprang along the path that led upstream, but her brother called her back. “It’ll take too long,” he rasped. He flicked his ears toward the still black cat. “You see to him, you know what to do.”

Just then he became aware of Leafpaw approaching.

He looked up and glared at her with his eerie ice-blue eyes.

Leafpaw felt a shiver run through her. “What’s she doing here?”

“I called her over,” Mistyfoot explained. “Reedpaw needs all the help he can get.”

Hawkfrost let out a disgusted snort. Leafpaw ignored him as she crouched beside the black cat. He was very small—newly apprenticed, she guessed—and he lay quite still, with a trickle of water coming out of his parted jaws. There was a gash on his shoulder; blood was oozing into his sodden fur.

“He must have fallen,” Mistyfoot meowed worriedly. “The apprentices are always playing too close to the river. It looks as if the branch hit him.”

Leafpaw bent closer to Reedpaw. A huge sigh of relief escaped her as she detected the faint rise and fall of his chest.

He was still breathing—but his breaths were fast and shallow, and seemed to grow weaker as Leafpaw watched. She glanced at Mothwing, waiting for her to start treating the injured cat.

Mothwing’s huge amber eyes were fixed on the limp body of the apprentice.

“Well?” Hawkfrost meowed impatiently. “Get on with it.”

Mothwing looked up, and Leafpaw saw the glare of panic in her eyes. “I—I’m not sure. I haven’t brought the right herbs. I’ll have to go back to camp…”

“Reedpaw hasn’t time for that!” Mistyfoot rasped.

Leafpaw understood her friend’s panic. They were only apprentices; they weren’t ready yet to hold the lives of cats within their paws. Where was Mudfur?

Then a gentle voice spoke inside her mind. Leafpaw, you can do this. Remember what Cinderpelt has taught you. Cobwebs for the bleeding…

“Yes—yes, I remember now,” Leafpaw mewed out loud.

Hawkfrost stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Do you know what to do?”

Leafpaw nodded.

“Right. Do it. You—out of the way.” Hawkfrost shouldered his sister to one side so that Leafpaw could get closer to Reedpaw.

Mothwing let out a faint meow of protest; Leafpaw glanced up at her to see her amber eyes still wide and shocked and her ears flat to her head.

“Go and find me some cobwebs,” Leafpaw instructed her.

“Quickly!”

The RiverClan apprentice shot her a frightened look, then whirled around and dashed up the riverbank to the bushes at the top of the slope.

Now get the water out of him, Spottedleaf whispered. Leafpaw bent down and worked her shoulder under Reedpaw’s, propping him up until water gushed out of his mouth.

Good. Now he’ll breathe properly, so you can deal with his wet fur.

The apprentice started to cough feebly and let out a faint cry of pain.

“Lie still,” Mistyfoot told him, giving his muzzle a reassuring lick. “You’re going to be okay.”

“That’s right,” Leafpaw meowed urgently to the RiverClan deputy. “Keep licking him—lick his fur the wrong way to help it dry and get him warm.”

At once Mistyfoot bent down beside the young apprentice and began licking vigorously; after a moment’s hesitation Hawkfrost began to do the same on his other side. Leafpaw licked at the gash on Reedpaw’s shoulder, cleaning it of scraps of bark and leaf. She knew she had to get it clean to avoid infection setting in.

“Here,” Mothwing gasped, reappearing beside Leafpaw with a wad of cobwebs. “Is this enough?”

“That’s fine, Mothwing. Put them on just there.”

She almost felt like Mothwing’s mentor as she checked how the RiverClan cat put the cobwebs in place, making sure they covered all the gash, and patted them down carefully.

“That’s fine,” she repeated. “Reedpaw, do you hurt anywhere else?”

The apprentice coughed again; under Mistyfoot’s and Hawkfrost’s energetic licking he was beginning to revive.

“No,” he rasped. “Just my shoulder.”

Leafpaw examined him for other injuries anyway, but she couldn’t find any. “I think you’re lucky,” she meowed.

“He’s lucky you were here,” Hawkfrost growled, with a hostile look at his sister. “Mothwing, what was the matter with you? You’re supposed to be a medicine cat!”

Mothwing shrank away, and would not meet her brother’s gaze.

“Reedpaw, can you stand up?” Leafpaw asked, diplomatically not reacting to her friend’s embarrassment.

For an answer the apprentice staggered to his paws.

Mistyfoot supported him on his other side, letting him lean against her with his uninjured shoulder.

“Think you can make it back to camp?” Hawkfrost demanded.

Reedpaw nodded. “Thanks…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Leafpaw and his eyes widened. “You have ThunderClan scent!”

“That’s right. My name’s Leafpaw. I’m Cinderpelt’s apprentice. Take him straight back,” she added to Mistyfoot. “If Mudfur’s there, he’d better check him. If not, you can give him some thyme leaves to chew for the shock.”

“And poppy seeds for the pain,” Mothwing added, trying to sound confident.

“Er… no, I wouldn’t.” Leafpaw hated contradicting her friend. “It’s best if he sleeps naturally for now. He’ll be worn out anyway from the shock.”

Mothwing’s gaze dropped to her paws again as Hawkfrost shot her a contemptuous glance. He turned away to pad upstream, toward the RiverClan camp. Mistyfoot followed, supporting Reedpaw. The black apprentice was still shaky, but he kept going until a clump of reeds hid all three cats from Leafpaw’s sight.

As they left, Leafpaw couldn’t help feeling envious of their sleek pelts and strong muscles. Even Reedpaw, with his fur drying rapidly in the cold wind, looked healthy and well fed.

RiverClan was the only Clan that still had plenty of prey, the only Clan not to be affected by the Twolegs tearing up the forest.

Shaking off her resentment, Leafpaw glanced at Mothwing, who hadn’t moved. “Don’t feel bad,” she meowed. “It’s all over, and no harm done. Reedpaw will be fine now.”

“It’s not all over!” Mothwing whirled to face her, her voice rising. “I lost it… My first chance to show that I’m fit to be a medicine cat, and I totally messed up.”

“Everybody makes mistakes.” Leafpaw tried to soothe her.

“You didn’t.”

But I had help, Leafpaw thought, wishing she could tell her friend about Spottedleaf, but knowing that she could never share such a momentous secret with a cat from a different Clan. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to her father’s friend.

“I could have helped Reedpaw,” Mothwing went on bitterly.

“I know all that stuff you did. I gave you and your friend thyme leaves, that time WindClan chased you. But now… somehow I couldn’t think straight. I just panicked, and I couldn’t remember.”

“You will next time.”

“If there is a next time.” Mothwing tore fiercely at the ground with sharp, curved claws. “Hawkfrost will tell every cat how useless I was, and Mudfur will wish he’d never chosen me. And the Clan will never respect me now!”

“Of course they will.” Leafpaw padded up to her friend and pushed her nose into Mothwing’s beautiful golden tabby fur.

“It’ll all be forgotten soon, you’ll see.” She was shocked that Mothwing was so sure her brother would spread the news of her failure around the camp. She would have expected Hawkfrost to be more loyal to his sister.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mothwing mewed bitterly, making Leafpaw jump. “Hawkfrost is loyal to the Clan, not to me or to any cat. He cares more for being a great warrior than anything else.”

Like Tigerstar, Leafpaw thought with an inward shiver.

“You’re so lucky, Leafpaw.” Mothwing’s voice was despairing. “You’re Clanborn, and your father is a Clan leader. My mother was a rogue, and no cat will ever forget that.”

She turned away, her head bowed and her tail trailing on the ground, and began plodding upstream as if every pawstep were an effort.

“I’ll see you soon!” Leafpaw called, but her friend did not respond.

There was nothing more Leafpaw could do. Sadly she went back to the stepping-stones and crossed more carefully than she had done in her desperate race to save Reedpaw.

By the time she reached the ThunderClan border, she was beginning to feel better. With leaf-bare coming, Mothwing would have plenty of chances to try out her medicine-cat skills, and her Clan would forget that she had failed once.

Besides, Leafpaw couldn’t help feeling pleased with her own success. She had saved a cat’s life—the first time, but not the last, she hoped.

“Thank you, Spottedleaf,” she murmured aloud, and thought she caught just a trace of the medicine cat’s sweet scent.

Feeling more optimistic than she had felt in moons, she collected Cinderpelt’s chickweed and hurried back to camp.

When she reached the top of the ravine she paused; her optimism vanished and an icy claw closed around her heart at the sound of the shrill wails and yowling coming from the clearing below. As she looked down, Mousefur and Rainwhisker burst out of the gorse tunnel and raced up the ravine, hurtling past Leafpaw without even noticing her.

Leafpaw bounded down to the camp and brushed through the tunnel, terrified of what she would find. Had the Twolegs reached this far already? Firestar was standing at the foot of the Highrock with Graystripe, Sandstorm, and Brackenfur clustered around him. Outside the apprentices’ den Whitepaw crouched, wailing like a kit. Shrewpaw and Spiderpaw were trying to comfort her.

Leafpaw skidded to a halt, bewildered. Why was everyone so upset? There were no alien scents in the camp, and no signs of Twoleg devastation. She spotted Cinderpelt, limping wearily into the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cats’ clearing.

Leafpaw raced after her. “What’s the matter?” she demanded, dropping the chickweed. “What’s happened?”

Cinderpelt turned and gazed at her, her blue eyes full of sorrow. “Dappletail is dead,” she explained, and the lack of emotion in her voice scared Leafpaw as much as anything else. “And Cloudtail and Brightheart have disappeared.”