Starlight

Chapter 13

“I said, what are you doing here?”

Leafpaw felt her pelt bristle as she met Crowfeather’s furious glare. “I’ve come to help!” she hissed. “Morningflower and Darkfoot are ill. I’ve brought herbs for them.”

“How do you know what’s wrong?” Crowfeather asked suspiciously.

“Because we’ve got the same problem in ThunderClan,” Leafpaw retorted. There was no need to tell him about Mothwing and the tainted water. She didn’t want to give the prickly WindClan warrior the smallest chance to accuse Mothwing of deliberately poisoning the elders.

“Back off, Crowfeather,” Whitetail mewed. “I asked Leafpaw to come.”

The dark gray warrior let out a snort of disgust; he didn’t say anything else, but he watched Leafpaw closely as she began to examine Morningflower. She found his presence thoroughly off-putting, but she couldn’t tell him to go away, not in his own camp.

Once she was sure that Morningflower was suffering from the same illness as Mousefur and the others, Leafpaw chewed a few mint leaves into a pulp and used her claws to part Morningflower’s jaws. Pushing the pulp into her mouth, she stroked her throat to make her swallow.

Whitetail crouched close by. “Will she die?”

“I don’t know,” Leafpaw admitted. Silently she added a prayer to StarClan: Please let her get well.

As she waited for the healing herbs to work, she heard Darkfoot stirring; the old tomcat raised his head and looked around with bleary eyes. “Great StarClan, my belly aches,” he complained. “Where’s Barkface with that juniper?”

“He’s not back yet,” Whitetail meowed. “But Leafpaw’s here with some water mint.”

“Leafpaw?” Darkfoot blinked. “She’s a ThunderClan cat.”

Before Leafpaw could explain, he added, “ThunderClan, WindClan, who cares, so long as she knows what she’s doing.”

He chewed the mint leaves Leafpaw set in front of him, and rested his head on his paws again.

A choking sound from Morningflower drew Leafpaw’s attention back to her; the old she-cat was retching feebly, her legs jerking.

“What have you done to her?” Crowfeather snarled. “She’s getting worse!”

He tried to nudge Leafpaw away. She leaped backward, and he bared his teeth at her when she tried to dodge around him and get back to her patient.

“Stop!” Spinning around, Leafpaw saw Onewhisker padding into the bushes, with Tornear just behind him.

“Crowfeather, what do you think you’re doing? Leafpaw has come to help.”

“She shouldn’t be here,” Crowfeather growled.

“Are you saying she shouldn’t do us a favor? She shouldn’t try to save the life of one of our cats?” Onewhisker’s voice was level, but tense with anger. When Crowfeather didn’t reply, he added, “Since you’re taking such an interest, you can stay and keep an eye on her. If she needs you to do anything, you do it. Leafpaw, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Leafpaw dipped her head. “Thanks, Onewhisker. I think Whitetail and I can manage.”

“I want Whitetail for a hunting patrol,” Onewhisker told her. “But Crowfeather hasn’t got anything else to do.” He beckoned to Whitetail and padded away.

Crowfeather glared at Leafpaw. “Treat me like an apprentice and you’re crow-food,” he hissed.

Much as he had ruffled her fur, Leafpaw couldn’t help feeling that Onewhisker had been a bit tough on Crowfeather.

“Let’s just concentrate on helping Morningflower,” she mewed. “We need to get some more water mint down her.”

She chewed up more of the leaves, and asked Crowfeather to hold Morningflower’s jaws open while she pushed the pulp into her mouth, praying that the old cat wouldn’t vomit it up again. She flinched as Crowfeather’s flank brushed hers, making her fur tingle like the air before a storm. He leaped back too, then stepped forward again without meeting her eyes, as if he were embarrassed.

Morningflower had gone limp again, as if she were exhausted. Leafpaw sat beside her, stroking her belly gently with her tail. She was acutely conscious of Crowfeather watching her, and wished he would go away.

After a while she thought that the old she-cat’s breathing was growing stronger. Darkfoot was dozing again, occasionally letting out a rusty purr.

“Are they getting better?” Crowfeather whispered.

“I think so,” Leafpaw replied. “I’m sure Darkfoot will be fine. It’s Morningflower I’m worried about.”

“Leafpaw.” A shadow fell across Morningflower’s body, and Leafpaw looked up to see Barkface. “It’s good to see you.”

He spoke around a leaf-wrapped bundle; when he set it down the leaves fell back to show a few shriveled juniper berries.

“Barkface, I hope you don’t mind,” Leafpaw began nervously. “I met some of your Clan in the woods, and they said Morningflower was very ill. We’ve had the same trouble, so—”

Barkface interrupted her with a wave of the tail. “You’re very welcome. I’ve no idea yet where the best herbs grow—I found only one juniper bush, and birds must have taken most of the berries.” Sniffing carefully at Morningflower, he added, “She’s better than when I left. What are you giving her—water mint? Good thinking, though I’d use juniper myself, if I could find enough.”

“Can I go, then?” Crowfeather asked loudly.

“Oh, yes, yes.” Barkface waved him away. “I can take over now.”

Leafpaw watched him go, wondering why she was feeling disappointed. She hated the idea of falling out with any cat, but it hurt even more when Crowfeather was a friend of Squirrelflight’s—though what her sister saw in him, she couldn’t begin to guess.

“You’d better go too, Leafpaw,” Barkface meowed. “You’ve done good work here, and your own Clan will be needing you.”

Leaving what was left of the water mint, Leafpaw rose to her paws. “Let me know how Morningflower gets on.”

“I will. I’ll get a message to you somehow,” Barkface promised.

Leafpaw pushed her way out of the bush. Onewhisker was in the center of the camp with some of his warriors around him, and she decided to tell him she was leaving. Her steps faltered when she saw that one of the cats talking to the Clan leader was Mudclaw.

Onewhisker spotted her. “How’s Morningflower?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be fine. Barkface is with her now.”

“We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” the WindClan leader meowed, his eyes warm. “Tornear told me that when he met you, he and Thornclaw were having a dispute over the boundary in the woods. I’ve decided that we’ll leave that area to ThunderClan from now on. We’ll put our scent markers at the edge of the trees, close to the foot of the hill.”

“That’s very generous of you!” Leafpaw began, but she was interrupted by a growl from Mudclaw.

“Are you completely mousebrained?” rasped the former deputy. “You’re giving away WindClan territory for a pawful of healing herbs? Barkface was perfectly capable of treating the sick cats without this apprentice sticking her nose in.”

Onewhisker spun to face him. “Mudclaw, you are a fool if you think this is about nothing more than herbs. Think of everything ThunderClan has done for us. How many lifetimes would it take to repay them? Without their friendship, every cat in WindClan would be crow-food by now.”

Mudclaw snarled, curling his lip to reveal sharp yellow teeth, and Leafpaw had to sink her claws into the ground to stop herself from shrinking away. One or two of the other warriors were looking uneasy, too, including Crowfeather.

She waited for him to back Mudclaw up, and say that she shouldn’t have come, but the lean gray warrior said nothing.

“I don’t want to hear of any fighting over the border with ThunderClan,” Onewhisker growled. “That stretch of woodland isn’t much use to us. Since when has WindClan hunted among trees?”

“There’s more than prey among trees.” Webfoot stepped forward to stand beside Mudclaw. “Herbs, for one thing. I know Barkface needs plants that we’d never find on open moorland.”

“That’s enough!” Onewhisker snapped. “There’s plenty of territory left, and Barkface never had trouble finding supplies before.”

His warriors dipped their heads, but none of them looked happy about their leader’s orders. Mudclaw turned away, muttering, “Traitor!” in a voice just loud enough to be overheard.

Leafpaw’s belly clenched with anxiety. She guessed several of the WindClan warriors would agree with Mudclaw, that Onewhisker was not putting the good of his own Clan first by harking back to their old alliance with ThunderClan. She wondered what would happen if Mudclaw were to challenge him for the leadership. How many cats would support him with tooth and claw?

“You’ll want to be getting back,” Onewhisker meowed.

“Crowfeather, please go with Leafpaw as far as her camp and tell Firestar my decision.”

Crowfeather looked up, his eyes wide. “Me?”

Oh, no, Leafpaw thought. Aloud she hissed, “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. Just because I’m a medicine cat doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use my claws.”

Onewhisker flicked his ears at her. “Crowfeather, that was an order.”

Crowfeather still looked appalled, but he heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Come on. I’ll only get into trouble if I don’t go with you.”

Leafpaw could see she would have to give in. As Crowfeather whisked around and headed up the slope to the edge of the camp, she nodded a hasty farewell to Onewhisker and bounded after the dark gray warrior. He set a fast pace, not asking Leafpaw if she could keep up. He was so rude, she couldn’t be bothered trying to make conversation, but even in the silence the air between them crackled like greenleaf lightning. He obviously hated the idea that a ThunderClan cat had done his Clan a favor.

As a medicine cat, Leafpaw lived outside the Clan-based rivalries held by other cats. If this was what it felt like, she was glad she didn’t have to treat cats like enemies just because they came from different Clans. Although Crowfeather had been one of the journeying cats, he had fallen back quicker than any cat into the old ways. With his bristling fur and awkward sidelong glances, he seemed only too ready to rekindle the old rivalries.

Leafpaw heaved a sigh of relief when they came to the stream. They were higher up than the place where ThunderClan had crossed the night before, and Crowfeather led her nimbly across some stepping-stones back into ThunderClan territory. Not long after she recognized the bushes that surrounded the top of the stone hollow. Leafpaw took the lead and followed the slope of the land down to the gap in the cliffs. When they reached the entrance she saw that a thorn barrier was partly in place, and inside, a fresh-kill pile had appeared on a cleared space among the brambles.

Firestar was standing by the thicket where Ferncloud and Birchkit had spent the night. Squirrelflight was helping Ferncloud drag out long tendrils of bramble.

“We could make a good nursery in here,” Ferncloud panted, reaching up with her hindpaw to unhook a thorn from her flank. “It’s right up against the rock wall, so it’ll be sheltered in bad weather. We need to make more space inside, though.”

“That won’t take long,” Squirrelflight assured her, energetically dragging away a bramble twice as long as she was, while Birchkit pounced playfully on the other end.

Brambleclaw appeared with a ball of moss and carried it through the entrance of the new nursery. Leafpaw was impressed that a warrior was prepared to help with apprentice tasks; Brambleclaw was obviously determined to settle his Clanmates into the home he had found for them.

Ferncloud followed him inside to help him arrange it.

Birchkit gave up hunting the end of Squirrelflight’s bramble, and bundled after his mother.

“Firestar, Crowfeather’s here.” Leafpaw dipped her head to her Clan leader. “He came back with me from WindClan.”

“Thanks.” Firestar padded over to the young WindClan warrior. “Is everything okay?”

“Leafpaw helped Morningflower.” Crowfeather sounded distinctly ungrateful. “And Onewhisker asked me to tell you that ThunderClan can be the first to set scent markers in the woodland across the stream. He’s happy for WindClan’s boundary to be set at the edge of the trees.”

Firestar’s eyes stretched wide in surprise; he clearly hadn’t expected to win that territory so easily. “That’s very good of Onewhisker,” he replied. “Thank him for me.”

“And thanks for bringing me back,” Leafpaw added. Just because Crowfeather had behaved like a fox with a thorn in its paw didn’t mean she had to be rude too.

Crowfeather gave her a long look, hostility and something else in his eyes. He seemed about to say something, then just nodded and headed out of the camp.

“Hey!” Squirrelflight called after him. “Ignore your old friends, why don’t you?”

The WindClan warrior didn’t look back, and vanished among the ferns.

Firestar stared at the quivering green fronds that had swallowed Crowfeather up. “Onewhisker’s being very generous,” he remarked, though he didn’t sound quite as pleased as Leafpaw would have expected. “Quite different from ShadowClan,” he added.

“ShadowClan?” Leafpaw echoed, wondering what had made her father think of them.

“There was nearly a fight!” Squirrelflight told her excitedly. “Brambleclaw crossed ShadowClan scent markers, and a ShadowClan patrol tried to chase him off.”

“We could have dealt with them,” Brambleclaw mewed, reappearing from the nursery without his burden of moss. “I suppose they were only putting their Clan’s interests first. I wonder if Onewhisker could say the same. I mean, he’s just given away a fair chunk of good hunting territory.”

He sounded curious rather than hostile, but Squirrelflight rounded on him with her tail fluffed up.

“At least he’s loyal to his old friends!” she flashed.

“Something you seem to have forgotten about.”

Anger flared in Brambleclaw’s eyes. Instead of speaking, he clamped his jaws shut and stalked off. Firestar shook his head worriedly, followed him for a few paces, then veered off and went to talk to Thornclaw by the fresh-kill pile.

“What was all that about?” Leafpaw asked her sister in dismay. “Why has everything gone wrong between you and Brambleclaw?”

Squirrelflight shrugged. “Don’t ask me. He’s been in a foul mood ever since we came here.” She gave up trying to pretend she didn’t care, and gazed at Leafpaw with eyes that were green pools of hurt and bewilderment. “I don’t think he likes me anymore.”

Leafpaw couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort her.

She could heal wounds and knew the right herbs for bellyache, but the breach between her sister and Brambleclaw was totally beyond her. That was a part of life that a medicine cat would never know. She thought she should probably feel relieved that she would never have to suffer such pain. Then she saw the hunger in Squirrelflight’s gaze as it followed Brambleclaw out of the camp, and remembered how deeply the two cats cared for each other. A tiny empty space appeared inside her when she realized no cat would ever feel that way about her.

Dustpelt emerged from the bramble thicket with another long tendril dragging behind him, and almost tripped over Birchkit as the kit hurled himself at the trailing end.

“Birchkit! You’re more trouble than a fox in a fit.”

“Don’t scold him,” Ferncloud murmured, following her mate into the open. “It’s great that he feels happy enough to play.”

Dustpelt purred agreement, his eyes shining as the two cats watched their kit growl fiercely at the bramble, gripping it between his teeth and shaking his head from side to side.

As Leafpaw looked on, the hollow place inside her got bigger. She would never feel for another cat what Squirrelflight felt for Brambleclaw, or enjoy the closeness of a mate and kits. She had never doubted her decision to give her life to StarClan and tread a medicine cat’s solitary path—but suddenly she couldn’t help wondering if she was missing something.