The roof of the elders’ den creaked under the weight of snow. Jayfeather winced. “I hope it holds,” he muttered.
“The old den would have been flattened.” Beside him, Purdy’s fur brushed against bark. “But now, with the honeysuckle woven around the beech branches, this den is strong enough to hold off a hollowful of snow.”
Mousefur turned in her nest. “It’s the thaw I’m not looking forward to. At least the snow is dry now. When it starts dripping through the roof—”
Purdy cut her off. “When the thaw comes, you’ll get wet. Like you do every leaf-bare.” His tail swished. “Cats that live wild get wet. Not even your StarClan can change that.”
Jayfeather touched his muzzle to Mousefur’s. “Hold still,” he ordered as she pulled away. He smelled her breath. It wasn’t sour, and her nose was cool. He listened to her chest, unsure whether the wheezing was infection or just age. Yet it was sunhigh, and the old she-cat was still in her nest. “Are you sure you don’t have a sore throat?” he asked again.
“I’m sure,” Mousefur grunted.
“Any aching in your joints?”
“Only the usual.”
Jayfeather frowned. Why had she refused to play moss-ball with Molekit this morning? He turned to Purdy. “Let me know if she starts coughing.”
“I’ll fetch you myself,” the old loner promised.
Jayfeather nosed his way through the honeysuckle tendrils, shivering as his paws touched snow in the clearing. The big catch Lionblaze’s patrol had made had fed the Clan for days, but now the fresh-kill pile was pitifully empty, and Sandstorm’s whitecough was beginning to spread. First, Jayfeather had confined Bumblestripe to his nest after coughing and fever gripped the young warrior during the night. Then Poppyfrost had sent Blossomfall to the medicine den.
“She says Cherrykit’s got a fever,” Blossomfall had told him.
“Tell her I’ll come as soon as I’ve checked on Mousefur.”
As Thornclaw led his patrol out of camp, Jayfeather headed for the nursery, praying that Poppyfrost was just being overanxious. Rasping breath caught his ear. He paused. “Is that you, Mousewhisker?”
“Yes,” the warrior croaked from the edge of the clearing.
“Get to your nest and stay there.” Jayfeather crossed the clearing, not waiting for the warrior to object. There was no time for argument. The infection was spreading. He’d moved Sandstorm to the medicine den. She couldn’t stay with Firestar. ThunderClan needed its leader to be healthy. Jayfeather sent a silent prayer to StarClan. Please don’t let Briarlight catch it.
“Jayfeather!” Poppyfrost’s mew sounded from the entrance to the nursery. As the warmth of the den surrounded him, tiny claws bit into his back.
“Get off him, Molekit!” Daisy’s stern mew sounded from her nest.
Molekit slid down Jayfeather’s back. “Just practicing my attack pounce!”
Poppyfrost bustled past Jayfeather. “Go and practice outside,” she told the young kit.
“Can Cherrykit come?” he mewed.
Jayfeather cuffed him gently with a soft paw. “Maybe later. I need to check her first.”
As Molekit tumbled out of the den, Poppyfrost put her mouth against Jayfeather’s ear. “She feels hot,” she murmured.
Jayfeather leaned into the nest and touched Cherrykit’s small muzzle with his own. “She is a bit warm.” He pressed an ear to her chest. “Her breathing is clear, though.”
“I feel fine,” Cherrykit squeaked. “Can I go and play with Molekit?”
“Does she need herbs?” Poppyfrost’s mew was tight with worry.
“Not yet.” Jayfeather wanted to preserve his small supply for as long as possible. “Send her out to play in the snow with Molekit.”
Poppyfrost gasped. “Outside?”
“The best thing you can do is to keep her cool,” Jayfeather advised. “The snow will do that as long as her breathing is clear.” He nosed Cherrykit out of the nest. “If you start to feel sick,” he told the kit, “come inside and rest.” He turned to Poppyfrost. “Call me if she starts to cough or wheeze.”
Jayfeather slid out of the nursery and headed back to his den to check on Sandstorm. “How are you?” he meowed as he leaned into the orange warrior’s makeshift nest.
“I’ve felt better,” Sandstorm admitted.
Jayfeather touched a pad to her ears, worried to find them hotter than ever. He turned away from the nest and began pulling herbs from his store. There must be more feverfew somewhere. His chest tightened as he felt the dried leaves and sniffed. Nothing good for coughs.
The brambles rustled, and a fresh tang filled the air. Yarrow?
“You forgot to bring these in.” Rosepetal’s muffled mew sounded at the den entrance. Leaves thumped gently on the floor. It is yarrow! Yarrow never survived the first frost.
Jayfeather hurried over to sniff the pile of leaves. “Where did you find these?” There might be other herbs nearby.
“They were lying outside the camp, near the thorns,” Rosepetal mewed. “I thought you’d dropped them.”
Jayfeather frowned. “Not me.”
“Well, someone did.” Rosepetal’s paw brushed the yarrow, and bitter scent drifted up. “Perhaps it was Leafpool,” she suggested.
“Maybe.” Leafpool had been scouring the forest for days. She was so tired that it was possible she had dropped some leaves and forgotten about them. “I’ll go thank her.” Jayfeather brushed past Rosepetal and pushed through the brambles.
Leafpool was tumbling with the kits outside the nursery. Her pelt smelled of the forest, but there was no scent of yarrow on her.
Jayfeather crossed the clearing. “Thanks!” he called.
Leafpool paused. “Thanks?”
“For the herbs.”
“What herbs?”
“The yarrow leaves,” Jayfeather explained. “Rosepetal found them outside the camp. We figured you’d picked them and dropped them there.”
“It wasn’t me.” Leafpool’s tail-tip brushed the snow as she walked toward him. “Maybe it was one of the other cats?”
Jayfeather twisted and called toward his den. “Rosepetal?”
The young cat came bounding out. “What?”
“Show me where you found the yarrow.”
He followed Rosepetal through the thorn barrier. “Here,” she announced, stopping in the narrow clearing outside, between the hollow and the trees.
Jayfeather sniffed the ground. No scent of any cat. Just yarrow and snow.
“Perhaps a warrior found leaves and hoped they’d be useful,” Rosepetal suggested. “They may have been on patrol and planned to tell you later.”
“Maybe.” Jayfeather shrugged. “If no one mentions it, I’ll ask Firestar to thank whoever found it at the next Clan meeting.” Pushing his curiosity aside, he headed back into the hollow.
“Jayfeather!”
Thornclaw’s yowl made him stop. “What is it?” Jayfeather tasted the air. “Mothwing, is that you?” Thornclaw and Spiderleg were accompanying the RiverClan medicine cat down the slope to the hollow.
“We found her by the shore,” Thornclaw reported. “She wants to speak with you.”
Mothwing snorted and broke away from her escort. “Thanks for your company,” she muttered. “I think I could have found my own way here.”
Spiderleg’s pelt sparked. “We were just trying to help.”
Jayfeather flicked his tail. “I’m sure she’s grateful.” He padded past the warrior, nudging Mothwing along with him. “Let’s go to the lake. My den is full.”
“Sickness?” Mothwing followed him up the slope.
“Whitecough.” Jayfeather wrinkled his nose at the scent of fish on her breath. “Only Sandstorm so far, but possibly three more.”
As Mothwing sighed, he wondered if he should warn her that StarClan was trying to divide the Clans. After all, she had no connection with StarClan. They had no power over her. But he couldn’t forget Yellowfang’s words. Or his vision.
“How’s Briarlight?” Mothwing asked.
“She’s shaken off the infection.”
“Good.”
“Her forepaws are as strong as any warrior,” Jayfeather went on. “They’ll be stronger if she keeps on with her exercises.”
“It’s going to be a long hard path for her,” Mothwing warned.
“Once it becomes the only path she knows, it won’t seem so hard.” The lake breeze stung Jayfeather’s nose as he reached the crest of the slope. He hurried on, breaking from the trees and bounding down the snowy slope. He wanted to stay a few paw steps ahead of Mothwing. It was too easy to fall into the old bond of friendship.
He plunged down the bank, shocked as snow swallowed him up. It had piled along the shore, and he coughed as it shot up his nose. Sneezing, he struggled toward the water’s frozen edge until he was free of the drift. “I wish it would thaw,” he spluttered to Mothwing.
She lumbered through the snow and settled beside him. “It’s just getting colder,” she observed. “We’re having trouble stopping the kits from playing on the ice. I had to treat three sprained paws yesterday.”
Has she just come to gossip about kits? Jayfeather let his thoughts drift into hers.
Her mind seemed empty. He was wasting his time. “What do you want?” he snapped. “I don’t have all day.”
A purr rolled in her throat. “Blunt as ever.” She pawed at the snow, then lowered her voice. “Willowshine told me that StarClan has ordered us to stop talking to the other medicine cats.”
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“I want to know if they told you the same thing.”
Yellowfang’s matted outline suddenly shimmered at the edge of Jayfeather’s awareness. His pelt pricked as he sensed the old medicine cat’s presence. “I’m not telling you what StarClan shares with me,” he grunted.
“Then they have told you the same!”
Jayfeather bit back a reply as Mothwing pressed on. “They told you to stop talking to me, and you have!” Her tail scraped the snow. “If StarClan told you to jump in the lake, would you?”
Jayfeather bristled. “That’s not the same.”
“Really?” Mothwing leaned closer. “How many times has another Clan helped us save our Clanmates?”
Jayfeather shrugged.
“They’re asking us to stop doing something that medicine cats have done since the Clans were born. They’re asking us to let cats die. Have they gone mad?”
“Remember to hold your tongue.” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded in Jayfeather’s ear. “If you don’t keep quiet, all four Clans will be lost to the darkness.”
“They’re StarClan,” he muttered. “They have their reasons.”
“What reasons?” Mothwing growled. Her fishy breath billowed in his face. “You don’t know, do you?”
He pulled away. “I can’t explain it to you.”
“I know when something feels wrong,” she argued. “Our code is different from the warrior code. It reaches across boundaries. To us, every cat is simply that—a cat, with the same right to life as any other. We made a promise to heal and protect, remember?”
“Then protect your Clanmates,” Jayfeather snapped back. “But leave mine alone.”
“What if Sandstorm’s whitecough turns to greencough?” Mothwing’s muzzle was close to his again. “Could you let her die because StarClan told you to?”
“They have their reasons.” Jayfeather dug his claws into the snow.
“They’re just dead warriors!” Mothwing hissed. “Do you think that when they die, they get clever and brave? Don’t you realize that some of them may be as foolish and wrong-headed as they were when they were alive?”
Jayfeather wrinkled his nose against Yellowfang’s rancid breath. He felt her matted pelt snag his. She hadn’t changed a whisker when she’d joined StarClan. A growl rumbled in his throat. “You’ve never met a warrior from StarClan,” he spat. “You’re just guessing.”
“So are they!”
Yellowfang growled beside him. “Mothwing was born an idiot. She’ll die an idiot.”
Jayfeather turned away. “You won’t convince me.”
Mothwing let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Okay, okay!” She bounded after him, spraying him with snow. “Do you need herbs for whitecough? I’ve got tansy and catmint—not much, but enough to share if you’re desperate.”
“No, thank you.” Jayfeather forced out the words as he clambered up the bank.
Mothwing halted behind him. “If you do, come find me.”
“I won’t.” Jayfeather trudged up the slope. The snow on the shore crunched as Mothwing headed back toward the WindClan border.
The icy wind tugged at Jayfeather’s fur. “Happy now?” he growled to Yellowfang. But she had vanished.
He broke into a run, bounding up the slope and into the trees. His paws followed the trail home, and his lungs stung harder with each frosty breath, until he skidded, panting, to a halt outside the thorn barrier.
Poppyfrost met him when he wove his way through. “Cherrykit can’t breathe!”
Jayfeather pushed past the queen and hurried across the clearing. He could hear the kit’s paws scuffing the snow outside the nursery.
Anxiety sparked from Daisy. “We kept her outside like you told us, but now she’s wheezing.”
Jayfeather stopped Cherrykit with a flick of his tail and pressed his ear to her flank. There was thickness in her chest that rattled every time she breathed in. “Has she been coughing?” he asked Poppyfrost.
“A little,” the queen answered.
“Take her inside.”
“What about the fresh air?” Daisy demanded.
“She needs rest now.” Jayfeather nosed Cherrykit toward her mother. “Wash her. Keep her damp. It’ll keep her cool.”
Cherrykit yelped with indignation as Poppyfrost scooped her up and squeezed into the nursery.
Daisy trotted after Jayfeather as he headed for his den. “Are you fetching herbs for her?”
“I will, if she gets worse.”
“Why not now?”
Jayfeather turned. “I don’t have enough,” he hissed under his breath.
“What about the leaves Rosepetal brought in?”
“That was yarrow,” Jayfeather explained. “Only good for expelling poison.”
“But whoever found those leaves might be able to find tansy or catmint.”
“When I find out who it was, I’ll ask them.” Jayfeather wanted to get back to his den and check Sandstorm.
“Is something wrong with Cherrykit?” Sorreltail was hurrying toward them.
“Just a little wheezing,” Jayfeather told her.
“Is Cherrykit sick?” Jayfeather prickled with frustration as Dovepaw dropped a sour-smelling squirrel and joined them.
“Just some wheezing!” he repeated.
Daisy’s tail swished. “He sent Mousewhisker to his nest earlier because he was coughing.”
“And Bumblestripe was coughing half the night,” Sorreltail added.
Leafpool’s mew sounded close by. “Sandstorm hasn’t left the medicine den all morning.”
Was the whole Clan going to join in? Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Stop worrying! I can—”
Dovepaw cut Jayfeather off. “There’s greencough in ShadowClan,” she mewed.
Leafpool’s breathing quickened.
“Greencough?” Daisy’s mew was barely a whisper.
Jayfeather thrust his muzzle toward Dovepaw. “How bad is it?”
Dovepaw’s pads brushed the snow as she shifted her paws. “J-just Littlecloud.” Her mew was suddenly awkward.
“No one else?” Jayfeather pressed. She must have been listening in to the ShadowClan camp. He knew how uncomfortable she was about spying on other cats.
“No.”
“Good.” He flicked his tail. He needed to distract the others before they started wondering how Dovepaw knew what was going on in ShadowClan. “Why don’t you and Sorreltail fetch Cherrykit a wet moss ball?” he suggested to Daisy. “And Dovepaw, put that stinky old squirrel on the fresh-kill pile before someone trips over it.” He headed toward the medicine den.
Leafpool followed him. “What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
She was almost treading on his heels. “About Littlecloud?”
“Pray to StarClan.”
“Is that all?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Help him!” Leafpool’s mew was sharp.
“Why?”
“You’re a medicine cat!”
Jayfeather halted and faced Leafpool. She didn’t know that StarClan had ordered him to cut ties with the other medicine cats, and he wasn’t about to tell her. When she’d given up being a medicine cat, she’d given up the right to share with StarClan. But he understood her. He’d shared tongues and gossip with Littlecloud at the Moonpool enough times to have formed a bond with the old ShadowClan cat. He lowered his voice. “There’s enough sickness here without worrying about other Clans,” he murmured. “My supplies are low. I need every scrap to treat our Clanmates.”
Leafpool didn’t reply. Her silence made his pelt prick. “There is nothing I can do, even if I wanted to,” he hissed. He turned and headed for his den.
Could you let a cat die because StarClan told you to? Mothwing’s words echoed in his ears.
Leafpool’s gaze burned his pelt. Jayfeather could see her thoughts, clear as dreaming. They were focused on the patch of herbs he’d nursed beside the old Twoleg nest. Would she steal them to help Littlecloud?
No!
Yet he couldn’t risk it. Her connection with Littlecloud was long and deep. He veered away from the medicine den, tasting the air. Brambleclaw was below Highledge, talking with Spiderleg and Berrynose.
“Brambleclaw?” He padded toward the ThunderClan deputy.
“Yes?”
“I need to ask you something,” Jayfeather whispered.
“What?” Brambleclaw lowered his voice.
“There’s sickness in the camp,” Jayfeather began. “Only whitecough, but that’s enough. The herb patches I’ve grown are more precious than ever. I want you to post a guard around them.”
“A guard?” Surprise sharpened Brambleclaw’s mew. “You don’t think anyone would steal them?”
“There’s sickness in ShadowClan, too,” Jayfeather explained. “They know about the herbs. They were planning to take our territory to get their paws on them, remember?”
Brambleclaw’s tail swished through the air. “That was part of Ivypaw’s dream,” he growled.
“Exactly,” Jayfeather meowed. Ivypaw’s dream may not have come from any cat in StarClan, but maybe it had its uses after all. “And the forest is full of starving prey who might be grateful for a few juicy stems.”
“Berrynose! Spiderleg!” Brambleclaw summoned the two warriors. “Do you know where Jayfeather’s herb patches are, beside the Twoleg nest?”
“I do,” Spiderleg answered.
“I want them guarded, day and night.”
Jayfeather stepped forward. “No cat or prey must get near them,” he urged. “They’re too precious to lose.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe!” Berrynose bounded away.
“I’ll send a relief patrol at sundown,” Brambleclaw called as the two warriors pounded across the clearing.
Jayfeather closed his eyes. The Dark Forest was growing in strength. The cats in StarClan were frightened. And now he didn’t trust his Clanmates. The ground seemed to rock beneath his paws.
“I must stay strong,” he murmured to himself. “I must stay strong.”