Chapter 19

Lionblaze brushed through the barrier of thorns and headed into the forest, his ears pricked for the sound of intruders. Hazeltail and Rosepetal followed him, and Cinderheart brought up the rear. As he led the way down toward the shore where the WindClan border stream flowed into the lake, Lionblaze heard muttered conversation behind him.

“Who’d have thought that Hollyleaf killed Ashfur?” Hazeltail whispered. “Isn’t it awful? How did she ever keep it a secret?”

“Well, she left soon after,” Foxleap pointed out. “Do you think she was brave or a coward to run away like that?”

There was a heartbeat’s pause before Hazeltail replied. “She must have been brave, because she came back…”

Her voice trailed off as Lionblaze swung around and fixed his two Clanmates with a glare. Hazeltail exchanged a quick glance with Foxleap before giving her chest fur a couple of embarrassed licks.

So you’ve just remembered that Hollyleaf is my sister, Lionblaze thought, but he said nothing.

By the time they reached the WindClan border and headed upstream, both Hazeltail and Foxleap were fully alert, their ears swiveling, their gaze flicking back and forth along the undergrowth, and their jaws parted to pick up the tiniest trace of WindClan scent on ThunderClan territory. Watching them with approval, Lionblaze couldn’t help noticing how distracted Cinderheart was, drifting along as if she weren’t seeing or scenting anything in the forest. When he warned the others about a bramble stretching across their path, and heard Foxleap passing the message back, Cinderheart still managed to get tangled in it.

“Are you okay?” Lionblaze asked her.

“Fine!” she snapped, pulling herself free and leaving tufts of fur behind.

Lionblaze blinked at her uncharacteristically sharp tone. For a heartbeat he wished he had been put on a different patrol, or even ordered to fetch bedding for the elders. But then his concern for Cinderheart overwhelmed his brief annoyance. If she was behaving like this, there must be something wrong.

A few fox-lengths farther upstream, Lionblaze noticed that Cinderheart had wandered away from the border and was standing belly-deep in long grass, her eyes wide and unfocused. He let the others go ahead and padded through the grass toward her.

“WindClan patrol ahead!” he hissed.

Instantly Cinderheart was alert, her neck fur fluffing up as she gazed around. “Where?”

“Nowhere,” Lionblaze meowed. “I was just testing to see if you were awake.”

Cinderheart’s fur bristled even more. “You’re not my mentor,” she growled. “You don’t have to keep checking on me.”

Lionblaze opened his jaws to ask her what was wrong, but the anger in her eyes told him to keep quiet. Instead he walked on, noticing that at least Cinderheart seemed to be concentrating now.

By the time they reached the stretch of territory where the hidden tunnels emerged, there had been no sign of WindClan or Sol. Without warning the others, Lionblaze slipped away briefly to check the tunnel entrances. No need to tell every cat where they are. Some of them might be mouse-brained enough to mount an attack on WindClan from our side.

As he sniffed at the tunnel openings, he thought of Heathertail, and wondered if she knew about Sol’s plotting. Would she use her knowledge of the tunnels to help in her Clan’s attack? Did Heathertail have any trace of loyalty to Lionblaze, or would she take delight in hurting his Clan because the friendship they once shared had turned to dust?

Returning to his patrol, Lionblaze looked at Cinderheart and sighed. Why do relationships have to be so complicated?

Sunhigh was approaching as the patrol returned to camp, with nothing to report. As they came in sight of the hollow, Lionblaze heard shrieks and wailing coming from the clearing.

“Something’s wrong!” he yowled.

With his patrol hard on his paws he raced for the entrance. Are WindClan warriors attacking? Now, when the patrols are out and the camp is almost empty?

But when he burst out of the thorns, there were no WindClan cats to be seen. The few ThunderClan cats who were not on duty were gathered in a ragged circle in the center of the clearing; Lionblaze thrust his way between Daisy and Ferncloud to see what was going on. In the middle of the circle, Mousewhisker and Cherrypaw were lying on the ground, writhing in pain, their legs flailing and their tails curled up in agony. There was foam on the lips of both cats, and their eyes were glazed with pain.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Poppyfrost replied, her eyes wide and scared. “They came back a few moments ago and collapsed like this.”

“My kit!” Daisy whispered, blinking anxiously at Mousewhisker. Ferncloud comforted her with the touch of her tail on Daisy’s shoulder.

“Had… bellyache,” Mousewhisker gasped. “Think the mouse we shared last night was… going off a bit.”

“It hurts!” Cherrypaw wailed. Helplessly she stretched out a paw toward Poppyfrost, as if she were begging her mother for help.

“Where’s Jayfeather?” Lionblaze snapped.

“Out in the forest somewhere,” Molepaw meowed, gazing at his littermate with horrified eyes. “He and Brightheart went to check on the herbs he’s growing.”

“Go and find him,” Lionblaze ordered. “Try the old Twoleg nest first.”

Molepaw nodded and raced off, looking relieved to have something to do. Lionblaze hesitated, uncertain what more he could do, then staggered as Leafpool shoved past him.

“What have you eaten?” she demanded, bending over Cherrypaw.

“Mousewhisker said they shared a rotting mouse last night,” Lionblaze explained.

Leafpool flashed him a glance from her amber eyes. “A mouse shouldn’t cause this.” She was tense, but in control, her medicine cat skills surging back to meet the emergency.

“Didn’t want to bother Jayfeather. We ate some parsley… cure the bellyache.” Mousewhisker forced the words out between his teeth.

“Parsley?” Leafpool bent to sniff the foam around Cherrypaw’s lips. “That wasn’t parsley, it was water hemlock.”

“Is that bad?” Lionblaze asked, already knowing the answer.

“There’s nothing more poisonous in the whole forest, except for deathberries,” Leafpool replied. “I need herbs to make them vomit.”

But she didn’t head for Jayfeather’s den. Instead, she braced her paws on Cherrypaw’s legs, trying to stop her from thrashing around.

“What are you doing?” Poppyfrost hissed.

“They have to keep still,” Leafpool told her. “If they flail around like this they could choke on their tongues.”

Instantly understanding the danger, Lionblaze rushed across to Mousewhisker and tried to hold the young warrior down; Mousewhisker’s legs were jerking in agony and he raked his claws across Lionblaze’s shoulder. Leafpool wasn’t finding it any easier to control Cherrypaw; though her movements were strong and confident, her eyes were terrified.

“Foxleap, give us some help over here!” As Lionblaze called to his Clanmate he noticed that Cinderheart had appeared at the entrance to the camp. She was staring at the sick cats in horror, as if she couldn’t bear to watch but couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Suddenly she leaped forward, whisking past Lionblaze. “I’ll get the herbs,” she mewed, racing for Jayfeather’s den.

Leafpool looked up. “We need—”

“I know,” Cinderheart interrupted, casting a glance back as she vanished behind the bramble screen.

Foxleap went to help Leafpool with Cherrypaw, while Hazeltail bounded across to Lionblaze and joined him in holding Mousewhisker down. Her littermate’s thrashing legs knocked her off her paws, but she scrambled up and grabbed at him again.

Within a few heartbeats Cinderheart was back with a bundle of yarrow in her jaws. Dropping the bunch beside Leafpool, she turned back to Lionblaze. “Hold his head,” she mewed crisply. “No, not like that—your paw’s in the way of his mouth. I need you to hold him so that I can get some yarrow between his jaws.”

Lionblaze stared at her. “Where did you learn all this stuff?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Cinderheart snapped as she slapped his paws into position. “Just do as I say.” She chewed up a mouthful of the herbs and forced the pulp between Mousewhisker’s jaws. Then she began to massage his belly, kneading it strongly as if she were a kit trying to get milk from her mother. Beside her, Leafpool was doing exactly the same for Cherrypaw.

Cinderheart glanced across to check on her. “More pressure a bit higher up,” she instructed.

To Lionblaze’s surprise, Leafpool nodded. Her eyes were a little wider than usual, but she didn’t pause to ask why Cinderheart was suddenly telling her what to do.

What in the name of StarClan is going on? Lionblaze wondered. Has Cinderheart been secretly training to be a medicine cat? Why would she do that?

Heartbeats later, both sick cats vomited up mouthfuls of evil-smelling slime.

“That’s very good,” Cinderheart soothed Mousewhisker, stroking his shoulder as he choked wretchedly. “You’ll feel better soon.”

A tail-length away Leafpool was comforting Cherrypaw; the young apprentice looked worn out and utterly miserable.

“Are you sure she’ll be okay?” Poppyfrost fretted, bending over her kit.

“She’ll be fine,” Leafpool assured her.

“Thank StarClan!” Daisy exclaimed.

As every cat relaxed, realizing that the crisis was over, Lionblaze studied Cinderheart more closely. She seemed to have changed her expression into something he didn’t recognize at all. Her color and shape and size were still the same, but her eyes were not the eyes of the cat he knew and loved.

Leaving Cherrypaw with her mother, Leafpool padded over to check on Mousewhisker.

“Have you been training Cinderheart?” Lionblaze whispered to her.

“No, not at all,” Leafpool whispered back, her eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“Then how does she know all this stuff?” Lionblaze demanded, raising his voice. “I don’t understand!”

“I don’t care,” Hazeltail meowed. “Just as long as she saves Mousewhisker’s life.”

Cinderheart looked up at Leafpool, a world of sadness in her gaze.

“You know, then?” Leafpool murmured.

Cinderheart nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Lionblaze heard paw steps behind him and turned to see Jayfeather striding across the clearing with Brightheart at his side. Both cats carried bunches of herbs in their jaws.

“What’s going on?” Jayfeather called, his voice muffled by his mouthful of leaves.

As briefly as he could, Lionblaze told Jayfeather how Mousewhisker and Cherrypaw had poisoned themselves with water hemlock. “Leafpool—”

“This is what comes from Firestar’s idea of teaching the Clan about herbs,” Jayfeather interrupted, rapidly checking Cherrypaw and then Mousewhisker. “If they hadn’t thought that they knew what to do, this would never have happened. They’ll be okay,” he added grudgingly. “Foxleap, Hazeltail, help them both into my den.”

“Cinderheart knew exactly what to do,” Leafpool mewed as the sick cats moved off shakily, leaning on Foxleap and Hazeltail.

Jayfeather’s head whipped around, his eyes wide with shock. “What?”

Cinderheart faced him steadily. “How could I stand by and do nothing, knowing what I know now?”

“What have you done?” Leafpool hissed at Jayfeather. “I thought we agreed she should be allowed to live in peace?”

“She deserved to know the truth,” Jayfeather snapped back at her. “And to know that StarClan chose a new destiny for her.”

Lionblaze felt the ground tilt under his paws. Cinderheart’s destiny? What are they talking about?

“I’m still here, you know,” Cinderheart pointed out, narrowing her eyes at Leafpool and Jayfeather.

“Then I’m sorry you had to find out,” Leafpool told her, glaring at Jayfeather. “I thought we had agreed to keep it from you.”

A flame of anger flared in Cinderheart’s blue eyes. “And let me live in ignorance of who I truly am? You had no right to decide that!”

“But this changes everything,” Leafpool mewed, her tail drooping. “And nothing was wrong before.”

“Everything was a lie before!” Cinderheart lifted her voice in a wail. “If I was truly given a second chance, StarClan should have kept those memories away. But I can’t forget now, I can’t stop memories pouring into my head.”

“Cinderheart, I—” Leafpool began.

Cinderheart’s fur bristled. “I know every path in the old forest!” she flashed back. “I know Snakerocks and Sunningrocks. I remember Gatherings at Fourtrees. I remember delivering kits when I was Yellowfang’s apprentice, but not being able to save their mother. Do you have any idea how that feels? I remember deceiving my Clan, when I was trying to save sick ShadowClan cats. I remember—” Her voice broke. “I remember everything.”

Leafpool rested her tail-tip on Cinderheart’s shoulder, and for a moment the gray she-cat didn’t move away.

“I never meant for you to feel like this,” Jayfeather whispered. “I just wanted you to know what StarClan did for you.”

“But I can’t help feeling like this,” Cinderheart retorted. “I can’t just forget about my former life, when I was Cinderpelt.”

As he listened Lionblaze had felt like a kit struggling in a flooding stream, with nothing solid to hold on to. Now it was as if his paws had slammed against the bottom, leaving him stunned.

Cinderheart used to be Cinderpelt? How is that possible?

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Cinderheart went on, her voice throbbing with sorrow. “All this time, have I been just the echo of a dead cat?”

“No.” Leafpool spoke gently, but her voice was full of conviction. “No, you are so much more than that.”

Cinderheart sprang away from her, whirling to face her, crouching as if she were about to pounce on prey. “I don’t believe you!” she hissed. Without giving Leafpool the chance to reply, she sprang forward and bounded across the clearing, disappearing into the gap in the barrier.

“I’ll go after her,” Lionblaze meowed.

Jayfeather nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Lionblaze glared at his brother, rage welling up inside him. You knew all along, and you never told me! “I’m going alone.”

“Okay, keep your fur on,” Jayfeather muttered. “Tell me what happens.”

“Be kind to her!” Leafpool called after Lionblaze as he bounded away.

Out in the forest, Lionblaze followed Cinderheart’s scent trail. She seemed to have dashed blindly away from the hollow, breaking through the undergrowth, leaving tufts of gray fur on brambles that trailed across her path. He found her at last crouched under a leaf-laden hazel bush, shredding a twig to pieces with her claws.

“You’ll need medicine cat skills to put that back together,” Lionblaze joked as he slid underneath the hazel boughs and crouched beside her.

“Really?” Cinderheart looked up at him, her blue gaze savage with misery. “Aren’t I lucky, then, that I have so many?”

Lionblaze realized that he had said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry,” he mewed. “I hate this, too, for both our sakes.”

The rage faded from Cinderheart’s eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re Cinderheart,” Lionblaze assured her, touching her ear with his nose. “You always have been.”

“No, not always,” Cinderheart replied, blinking unhappily. “Once I was Cinderpelt. And I’ve walked this path before, every step of it.”

“What do you mean?” Lionblaze asked, confused. “You’re a warrior now, not a medicine cat.”

“I don’t know what I am.” Cinderheart gave a last scratch at the remains of the twig. “But what I meant was… I’ve been in love before with a cat that I couldn’t have.” Her eyes clouded. “Poor Cinderpelt,” she whispered. “There was so much that was taken away from her…”

Lionblaze flinched. I can’t take any more of this. “We’ll talk later,” he murmured to Cinderheart, then scrambled out from underneath the hazel bush and headed for the lake.

When he reached the water’s edge he sat down and stared out over the tossing gray water. They’re so lucky, he thought moodily, picturing the life of the Clans going on all around the lake. They’re not tangled up in some dumb prophecy, or another cat coming back to life!

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

Lionblaze wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting beside the lake when he heard paw steps approaching behind him. Hoping that Cinderheart had come to find him, he turned, and spotted Squirrelflight padding down the shore toward him.

“Hi,” she mewed, sitting beside him. “Do you want to talk?”

Squirrelflight was the last cat Lionblaze would have chosen to confide in, but his churning emotions wouldn’t let him stay silent.

“It’s so unfair!” he burst out. “Not just for me, but for Cinderheart, too. She wanted to be a warrior, but now she’s convinced she has to be a medicine cat because some other cat was before.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “All cats deserve to find happiness as a mate, and as a mother. I wouldn’t have changed anything about my life.”

Lionblaze tensed, digging his claws into the ground. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in his throat like a hard piece of fresh-kill, and were just as difficult to dislodge.

“You were a good mother,” he admitted at last, thinking longingly of the time when he had been young, when he and his littermates had believed that Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw were really their parents. The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he let go of the long-held grudge. “You should have kits with Brambleclaw.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Squirrelflight sighed. More briskly she added, “And perhaps it’s for the best that it never did. But I loved you and Jayfeather and Hollyleaf just as much as if I’d given birth to you myself, and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy.”

Lionblaze turned his head to meet her brilliant green gaze. “I think Cinderheart is unhappier than any of us,” he meowed.

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