Starlight

Chapter 8

Leafpaw crouched not far from Tallstar’s body, watching the cats who came to keep vigil for the dead leader. Daylight spread steadily from beyond the ridge of hills, revealing a gray sky with clouds hanging low over the trees. A damp, chilly wind blew from the lake and made the branches rattle together like mouse bones.

The dead leader’s body looked grim and stark. Leafpaw shivered. It felt very strange to be sitting in vigil in the cold light of morning. Usually the ceremony was carried out at night, when the unmoving shape would be muffled by shadows as comforting as soft, black fur.

Glancing away from Tallstar’s body, Leafpaw let her thoughts wander. Anxiety gnawed at her, sharp as a fox’s fangs. Onewhisker couldn’t go all the way back to the Moonstone to receive his name and his nine lives from StarClan; he was too tired to make the long journey twice over again, and it was obvious Mudclaw would seize upon his absence to make trouble. But what would happen to the Clans if their leaders didn’t share tongues with StarClan?

The warrior code would fade away like mist in sunshine, and they would be nothing more than rogues.

“StarClan must guide us!” she mewed out loud.

Cinderpelt glanced around from where she was talking to Barkface. “Leafpaw? What’s the matter?” She padded over, looking concerned.

Leafpaw shook her head. “Sorry I disturbed you, Cinderpelt. I was just thinking about Onewhisker. What’s he going to do if he can’t go to Highstones?”

Cinderpelt stretched out her tail and touched Leafpaw gently on the head. “Don’t worry,” she reassured her. “StarClan will show us a new place to share tongues with them.”

“But when?” Leafpaw gazed into her mentor’s blue eyes.

“Onewhisker needs his name and his nine lives now.”

“Leafpaw, be patient. StarClan can’t be hurried. There’ll be an answer, you’ll see. And meanwhile,” she added more briskly, “you could be doing something useful instead of worrying. Look, Mothwing has the right idea. She’s fetching water for all the kits and elders.”

On the other side of the clearing, the RiverClan medicine cat was padding toward a group of WindClan cats, her mouth filled with dripping moss. Leafpaw realized with a guilty pang that she had done nothing except fret over things she could not help.

“Sorry, Cinderpelt,” she meowed, getting to her paws. “I’ll go and fetch some moss too.”

Cinderpelt nodded. “You’ll feel better if you’re busy.”

Leafpaw headed for the lake, but she had barely left the copse of trees when she spotted several cats bounding up the slope. Their pelts were slick with lake water, and Leafpaw recognized Hawkfrost in the lead. It was the RiverClan patrol that had gone to explore the island as soon as the first streaks of dawn appeared.

Curious, she turned back and followed them into the center of the clearing.

Hawkfrost leaped onto the tree stump and let out a yowl to summon all the cats to listen to him. Leafpaw wondered if he should have done that.

“What’s he playing at? The stump’s for the leaders, just like the Great Rock at Fourtrees.” Sorreltail echoed Leafpaw’s thoughts as she trotted over to join her friend.

“Hawkfrost isn’t even a deputy anymore.”

But no cat challenged the RiverClan warrior. Instead the Clans gathered quickly to hear Hawkfrost’s news.

“Well?” Leopardstar prompted. “Did you make it to the island? What did you find?”

“Everything we could have hoped for,” Hawkfrost declared. “I can’t imagine a better place for a camp. StarClan must have had it in mind when they brought us here. There’s the lake to fish in, trees for shelter, and it’s safe from predators—or anything else that might attack us,” he added, his eyes flashing toward the rival Clans.

Several mews of agreement came from the RiverClan warriors, and Blackclaw called out, “Well done, Hawkfrost!”

The tabby warrior dipped his head. “I’m only trying to do what’s best for the Clan,” he replied.

Leafpaw was surprised to hear a loud “Huh!” coming from just behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Squirrelflight glaring at Hawkfrost with unmistakable hostility.

Quietly Leafpaw wriggled backward until she reached her sister. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t trust him,” Squirrelflight muttered, not taking her eyes from the RiverClan warrior.

“Me neither,” Leafpaw meowed. She thought back to the day in the forest when Sorreltail had accidentally crossed the RiverClan border while chasing a squirrel. Hawkfrost had caught her, and only Mothwing’s warning about making trouble between the Clans had made him let her go. He had made his ambitions perfectly clear then, even hinting that RiverClan might move into ThunderClan territory while they were weak from lack of prey.

Leafpaw and Sorreltail had decided not to say anything about the incident to Firestar or their Clanmates. Sorreltail didn’t want to confess that she had crossed the border, and she pointed out that any ambitious young warrior might have dreams of taking over another Clan’s hunting ground.

Leafpaw had wished she could dismiss Hawkfrost’s greed for territory and power quite so lightly.

“I knew you didn’t trust him,” Squirrelflight mewed quietly. “I could tell all along. I’m glad some cat agrees with me.”

Mistyfoot padded to the foot of the tree stump, her tail-tip twitching. “Hawkfrost, I’ve already told you what a mousebrained idea it is to camp on the island. Warriors can swim over there, yes, but what about kits and elders? And what if something happens to the fish in the lake? We’d never be able to carry fresh-kill across from the shore.”

Hawkfrost looked straight past her and meowed, “Leopardstar, what do you think?”

The RiverClan leader hesitated before replying. “What you say is true, Hawkfrost,” she meowed at last. “The island would be easier to defend than any camp on land. But Mistyfoot’s right, as well. We can’t make our home somewhere that kits and elders would struggle to reach, and our isolation would make us vulnerable as well as safe. We will camp in the place she found.”

Leafpaw braced herself for an explosion of anger from Hawkfrost, but it never came. Instead he dipped his head to Leopardstar and leaped down from the stump.

“Good.” Squirrelflight sounded satisfied.

“Be fair,” Leafpaw warned. “You can’t blame him for wanting to find a safe home for his Clan.”

Squirrelflight let out a snort of disgust. “That’s the last thing he was trying to do. He just wanted to challenge Mistyfoot. If I were her, I’d watch my tail. And don’t tell me that you don’t agree,” she added, “because I won’t believe you.”

“I know,” Leafpaw admitted. “All the same, he hasn’t done anything yet.”

Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes. “Just give him time,” she meowed darkly.

Worn out by the day’s early start, Leafpaw dozed, stirring only when she felt a tail-tip brush against her ear. Blinking, she looked up to see Cinderpelt.

“I’m going to help take Tallstar’s body away for burial,” her mentor meowed. “Firestar’s getting ready to leave now.”

Leafpaw scrambled up, shaking scraps of dead leaf from her pelt. “Sorry, Cinderpelt!” she stammered. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“You needed the sleep,” Cinderpelt murmured.

By now the clouds had thinned to reveal a pale yellow sun.

Cats were gathering around Firestar near the tree stump; Brackenfur was leading Longtail with his tail draped over the blind cat’s shoulders, while Ferncloud gently scolded Birchkit, who was bouncing around and getting under every cat’s paws.

Excitement surged through Leafpaw, and she was instantly wide awake. They were about to see their new home! “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“Yes, please. I’d like you to make a quick trip to the marshy place to collect some more horsetail. We might not get another chance for a while.”

Leafpaw nodded. “Sure. But may I find Mothwing first? I want to say good-bye.”

“You’ll see her again at Gatherings,” Cinderpelt pointed out, then added gently, “Okay, but don’t be long.”

Leafpaw darted away. To her relief she spotted Mothwing almost at once, padding through the trees with another mouthful of soaked moss. She must have watered every kit and elder in all four Clans by now, Leafpaw realized guiltily.

“Hey, Mothwing!” she mewed. She stopped, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell that came from her friend’s fur.

Amusement lit Mothwing’s blue eyes. “Mouse bile,” she mewed ruefully. “Heavystep insisted I sorted out his ticks before I did anything else this morning. Since then I’ve been so busy fetching water that I haven’t had time to wash it off.

To be honest, I’ve gotten used to the smell by now.”

“I’m sorry.” Leafpaw felt worse than ever. “I should have come to help you.”

Mothwing shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve nearly finished. Do you want some water for your elders?” She pushed the soaked moss across the ground toward Leafpaw.

“Thanks,” she meowed, wondering if she had time to take some to Longtail before she fetched the horsetail.

She bent down to pick up the moss, but sprang back when a strong scent filled her mouth and nose—an odd, sour odor that reminded her of crow-food. She straightened up and swiped her tongue over her lips.

“What’s the matter?” Mothwing asked.

“I’m not sure. It smells a bit strange, that’s all. Where did you get it from?”

“There’s a pool over there…” Mothwing gestured with her tail. “I was lucky to find water that close, so I haven’t had to trek all the way down to the lake.”

“Show me,” meowed Leafpaw.

Mothwing led her out of the clearing until they came to the edge of the marsh. She padded confidently across the boggy ground, leaping between tussocks of scratchy grass when the bits in between got too muddy even for a RiverClan cat’s paws. They were traveling level with the lakeshore, but farther from the water.

Eventually Mothwing stopped beside a small, stagnant pool fed by a stream that trickled through the long marsh grass toward the lake. Even before she reached the water, Leafpaw recognized the same sour taste in the air. She crept forward cautiously to look down into the pool. The water was black and still, but Leafpaw leaned over until her reflection blocked the light and she could see all the way to the bottom.

Narrowing her eyes, she spotted a mass of sodden dark fur lying on the peaty soil. It looked as if a rabbit had fallen into the pool and drowned.

Letting out a hiss of disgust, she pulled back. “Look,” she meowed to Mothwing, moving so that the RiverClan cat could crouch next to her.

Mothwing’s eyes widened. “The pool was reflecting the sky when I came here before,” she murmured. “I never saw the dead rabbit. And I can’t smell anything but that wretched mouse bile. Do you think the elders will be okay?” she asked worriedly.

Leafpaw opened her mouth to tell her the water might give them bellyache, but when she met her friend’s anxious gaze she couldn’t do it. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she mewed awkwardly. After all, if the water was tainted there was nothing Mothwing could do about it now. “Best not give them any more of it, though.”

“No, I won’t.” Mothwing’s tail lashed in annoyance. “Now I’ve got to go all the way to the lake! I’ll see you at the next Gathering, Leafpaw.”

“I hope so,” Leafpaw called as her friend bounded down the slope. “Wash your paws!” she added, though she was not sure Mothwing heard her.

She stepped away from the water and rubbed her paws carefully on the grass in case any of the poison had soaked into the ground around the pool. A little way off, far enough that its roots would be safe from the tainted water, she spotted a thick clump of horsetail.

She would be able to pick some for Cinderpelt, and then they could leave. Everything will be fine once we’re in our new territory, she told herself. She glanced after Mothwing, and a tremor of anxiety rippled through her fur.

The RiverClan medicine cat had meant well when she fetched water from the pool for the kits and elders. But what would the tainted water do to the cats who had drunk it?