The Sight

Chapter 6

Hollykit was dreaming that the nursery was filled with hedgehogs.

They filed in through the entrance, rudely brushing Ferncloud and her kits aside and settling into the mossy nest around her. Their sharp prickles spiked her back. She fidgeted to move away from her uncomfortable new denmates.

“What are you doing here?” she muttered. “Go away!” But the prickles still dug into her. Opening her eyes, she twisted around and saw Lionkit curled up asleep beside her. He looked like he’d fallen out of a tree, his golden pelt ruffled and studded with black thorns.

She jabbed him with her forepaw. “Hey!” she whispered.

“Where did you pick up these thorns? They’re ripping me to shreds.”

Lionkit opened his amber eyes. “What?” he murmured, his mouth stretching into a yawn.

“You’re covered in thorns!” Hollykit guessed he’d been out of the den. “What have you been up to?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Lionkit confessed. “I went for a walk in the clearing.”

Hollykit stared at him in dismay. “Aren’t we in enough trouble? Do you want to stop us from being made apprentices?”

“It’s okay,” Lionkit soothed. “No one saw me.” He sat up and wiped a paw over his face. “Except Mousepaw, and he won’t tell. It was Mousepaw who pushed me into the thorns so Dustpelt wouldn’t spot me.”

Hollykit hissed softly. Why doesn’t he think before he acts? “We’d better get those thorns out of you before anyone else sees them.”

“They really sting,” Lionkit complained, twisting around to tug one from his flank with his teeth.

“I’d better go to the medicine den and get something to treat them with,” Hollykit told him. “We don’t want your scratches getting infected.”

“What will you tell Leafpool?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell her there was a thorn in your bedding and you rolled on it.” She climbed out of her nest and headed toward the entrance. “You start pulling out all the thorns you can reach,” she instructed. “I’ll get the rest when I come back.” Before she began to nose her way out of the den, another thought struck her. “And don’t leave them lying around. If Icekit or Foxkit spike themselves on one, Ferncloud will pluck your whiskers till you’re bald as a bird!”

She ran across the clearing, relieved to find it empty. The sun was rising behind the trees that topped the cliffs, but the camp, still in shadow, was cold. Hollykit guessed that the dawn patrol must have left already and the other cats were making the most of their snug dens until the sun had reached into the hollow and warmed the camp.

She reached the medicine den unnoticed and pushed through the brambles that concealed its entrance. Leafpool was nowhere to be seen, and her scent was stale. She hurried to Jaykit’s nest.

“Are you feeling better?”

Jaykit was curled up tight in the moss, a bundle of striped gray fur. His head shot up at the sound of Hollykit’s voice, and he gazed at her with his sightless blue stare.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you confined to the nursery?”

“Lionkit’s got a thorn stuck in him,” Hollykit explained. “I wanted something to keep the scratch from getting infected.”

Jaykit nodded sleepily to the back of the den. “Leafpool used dock on my scratches,” he mewed. “You’ll have to find it yourself. Leafpool’s out collecting stinging nettles.”

“Okay,” Hollykit mewed, hurrying over to the supply store.

“Can you remember what it smelled like?”

“It’s got a sort of tangy scent.” Jaykit lifted his nose and breathed in. “It’s one of the piles near the front,” he told her.

Hollykit stared at the array of leaves and seeds. At the front there were two piles, one darker green than the other.

She sniffed the darkest first. “This smells kind of icky,” she mewed back to Jaykit.

“Dock doesn’t have a bad smell,” Jaykit told her. “Just sharp.”

Hollykit sniffed the other pile and screwed up her eyes. It was definitely tangy. She grabbed a mouthful and carried it over to Jaykit.

“That’s the right one,” he mewed.

The brambles rustled at the den entrance, and Hollykit jumped.

It was Leafpool, holding a bunch of nettles carefully by their stems. The dew still glistened on their jagged leaves.

She dropped them and looked at Hollykit. “You’re up early.”

She noticed the pile of dock leaves beside Hollykit. “Your brother’s healing well,” she meowed. “He doesn’t need any more treatment. He only needs rest.”

“I’m not treating Jaykit,” Hollykit explained. “Lionkit’s been scratched by a thorn in his bedding.”

Leafpool opened her eyes wide in surprise. “How did you know to use dock?”

Hollykit stared uncertainly at the medicine cat. Jaykit told me.

“She remembered the smell from when you used it to treat me,” Jaykit mewed.

Hollykit ran her tail across his flank so he knew she was grateful. It wasn’t that she wanted Leafpool to think she was more clever than Jaykit; she just wanted her to see that she would make a great medicine cat.

“Well done, Hollykit!” Leafpool meowed. Hollykit felt warm to the tip of her tail. She told herself that one day she would know which herb was which and wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me show you how to apply it,” Leafpool offered. She crouched over the pile of dock, taking a single leaf in her mouth and chewing it. Once it was well chewed she held out her paw and licked the juice from the dock into her fur. Then she spat out the remainder of the leaf. “Make sure you lick it in firmly so that it seeps right into the wound,” she advised.

“It may sting, but it will save a lot more pain later if you do it properly.”

Hollykit watched carefully.

“Do you want to try it before you go?” Leafpool asked.

“I think I should get back to Lionkit,” Hollykit mewed, wanting to return to the nursery before Daisy and Ferncloud realized she was missing. “He was pretty sore.”

“I could come too,” Leafpool offered.

Hollykit was about to say yes when she hesitated. If Leafpool saw how many thorns were tangled in Lionkit’s pelt, both kits would be in trouble. “Thanks, but you must have things to do,” she mewed. “I’ll come and get you if I need help.”

“Very well.” Leafpool nodded. Was that a knowing glint Hollykit saw in her amber gaze? Had she guessed that Hollykit was not telling her the whole truth about Lionkit’s injuries?

Not eager to find out, Hollykit picked up the dock leaves in her jaws and trotted out of the medicine den. Her heart sank when she saw that the camp was growing busy. Daisy had come out of the nursery and was warming herself in a spot where the sun’s weak rays were just beginning to reach. Her kits huddled together outside the apprentices’ den, blinking sleep from their eyes. They looked like a single soft cloud, Berrypaw’s creamy fur merging with the gray and white of Hazelpaw and Mousepaw. Cinderpaw, Honeypaw, and Poppypaw were sharing tongues by the halfrock. Their slender dappled bodies reminded Hollykit of their mother, Sorreltail, who was nosing through the remains of yesterday’s fresh-kill pile with Thornclaw and Spiderleg.

There’s no reason they should think I don’t have permission to be here, Hollykit told herself. She stalked across the clearing, nodding to the apprentices as casually as she could manage. She avoided looking at Thornclaw and Spiderleg. Her paws burned with every step, but she kept her tail high and tried not to look hurried as she approached the nursery.

She reached the entrance unchallenged and scrabbled through with the dock leaves clamped tightly between her jaws.

Ferncloud’s voice startled her. “Where have you been?”

Hollykit dropped the dock leaves and glanced at Lionkit.

She was relieved to see that he’d gotten most of the thorns out of his pelt and smoothed down his fur enough to look as though he’d spent the whole night in his nest.

“I told Ferncloud about the thorn in my bedding,” Lionkit put in hastily.

“I’ve brought some dock leaves for Lionkit’s scratch,” Hollykit explained to Ferncloud. “Sorry I didn’t ask first, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should have waited until I was awake and asked permission. But I suppose you were only thinking of your littermate, and I can’t disapprove of that.” Ferncloud sighed.

“Though StarClan knows how thorns got into the nursery in the first place!” She glanced at her two kits wriggling at her belly. “You must be careful not to carry anything in on your pelts when there are small kits in the nursery.”

“We’ll be extra careful in the future,” Hollykit promised.

She hurried over to Lionkit with the leaves. “Did you get all the thorns out?” she whispered.

“All except one behind my ear,” Lionkit whispered back.

Hollykit licked the back of Lionkit’s ear and felt the thorn.

Gripping it with her teeth she tugged it out.

“I put the rest under the brambles at the edge of the den.”

He flicked his tail to the den wall near his nest. Hollykit went and spat out the thorn with the others.

“We can reach under from outside and drag them out later,” she mewed. “Now, where are the worst scratches?” She began to chew up a dock leaf while Lionkit twisted and pointed with his nose to a sore spot on his flank.

The dock leaf tasted foul. “Yuck!” Hollykit screwed up her nose as she chewed. She leaned down and licked the juice into Lionkit’s scratch, just as Leafpool had shown her. As she dragged her tongue firmly across the wound, Lionkit flinched and let out a squeak of pain.

Hollykit leaped back in alarm.

“Are you two fighting?” Ferncloud asked, not looking up from her kits.

“No,” Lionkit meowed. “The dock juice hurts; that’s all.”

Hollykit felt her tail tremble. She couldn’t do this! Seeing Lionkit’s pain made her feel queasy. But she couldn’t let any of his scratches get infected, and if she was going to become a medicine cat, she would have to get used to treating patients.

She chewed another horrible-tasting leaf and set to work licking the juice into another scratch. Lionkit only winced this time, but it was enough to send Hollykit leaping away again.

“Sorry!” she squeaked. Then she remembered Leafpool’s advice. It may sting, but it will save a lot more pain later if you do it properly. Focusing on Leafpool’s words, she carried on, forcing herself to ignore Lionkit’s squeaks of pain and the sickening taste of the dock.

“That feels much better,” Lionkit breathed as she tended to his last wound. Hollykit sat back with relief.

Ferncloud looked up. “Why don’t you two go to the fresh-kill pile and have something to eat? Daisy’s in the clearing.

I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get into any mischief.”

Happy to be able to leave the nursery without breaking any rules, Hollykit hurried out into the clearing, Lionkit on her heels. But the taste of dock had ruined her appetite, and she followed Lionkit to the fresh-kill pile without enthusiasm.

Mousepaw, Hazelpaw, and Berrypaw still sat in the flattened grass patch in front of their den. Mousepaw could hardly keep still. “Brambleclaw told me that our assessment would begin after sunhigh,” he mewed excitedly.

Hollykit pricked her ears. Daisy’s kits had been training for nearly four moons. It wouldn’t be long before they would be made warriors.

“Who’s assessing us?” Berrypaw asked anxiously.

“Brambleclaw wouldn’t tell me,” Mousepaw replied.

“Do you think it’ll be Firestar himself?” Hazelpaw’s tail twitched with excitement.

“Don’t say that!” Berrypaw breathed. “I won’t remember any of my training if I think he’s watching!”

“Can we hunt together?” Hazelpaw asked.

“Spiderleg said it was up to us,” Mousepaw reported.

Ashfur and Whitewing were sharing tongues nearby.

Ashfur’s whiskers twitched with amusement as he overheard the apprentices talking. “You’d be wiser splitting up!” he called over. “On your own, you might just manage to surprise your prey, but the three of you clumping through the forest will scare everything from here to sun-drown-place!”

Whitewing poked him with her snowy paw. “Don’t tease them, Ashfur!” she scolded. “You were an apprentice once.

You must remember how tense you were about your first assessment.”

Brook trotted through the entrance carrying three mice by their tails. Hollykit watched as the Tribe cat dropped her catch on the fresh-kill pile.

Lionkit helped himself to one and began to eat hungrily.

“Thanks, Brook,” he mewed with his mouth full.

Brook eyed him with her soft gray gaze. “You should eat more slowly,” she advised. “In the mountains we say that prey eaten slowly feeds us longer.”

Lionkit looked at her in surprise. “Okay.” He nodded and began to chew more carefully.

Hollykit watched as the mountain cat twisted to smooth down her brown tabby pelt. She had always liked the sound of Brook’s mew—it was low and strange compared with the forest cats’.

A yowl sounded outside the camp entrance, followed by a threatening hiss. Hollykit recognized Honeypaw’s voice.

Honeypaw’s mentor, Sandstorm, raced toward the entrance tunnel. “Honeypaw?” she called. “What is it?”

Hollykit held her breath. Was the camp being attacked?

Then she heard a friendly yowl of greeting. Sandstorm returned through the thorn tunnel, leading Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, and her apprentice, Willowpaw.

Honeypaw padded after them, her tail bristling with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she mewed. “I didn’t realize who it was. I just smelled RiverClan.”

Sandstorm reassured her apprentice with an old nursery saying: “It’s better to scare off a mouse than welcome a badger.”

Hollykit’s heart leaped like a fish at the sight of Willowpaw. She had met the medicine cat apprentice once before, when Mothwing had brought precious supplies of catmint from the clump that grew in a sheltered part of RiverClan territory. Leafpool had welcomed the gift, since the patch that grew near the abandoned Twoleg nest in ThunderClan territory had been killed by frost. Hollykit had spoken to Willowpaw then because she wanted to find out what it was like to belong to a different Clan. But this time she wanted to find out something else: how to become a medicine cat’s apprentice.

While Sandstorm went to find Leafpool, Hollykit scampered across the clearing toward Willowpaw. “Hello!” she mewed shyly.

Willowpaw, who had been looking troubled, brightened up. “Hello, Hollykit!” she purred. “Or is it Hollypaw now?”

“Not yet,” Hollykit told her. “Why are you here?” The RiverClan cats weren’t carrying anything. Perhaps they had come to ask for supplies in return for the catmint.

Willowpaw’s whiskers twitched. “I had a dream,” she mewed. “I want Leafpool to help me interpret it.”

“Can’t Mothwing do that?” Hollykit asked, confused.

Willowpaw glanced at her paws. “Mothwing suggested we get Leafpool’s opinion.”

“What was it about?”

Willowpaw looked solemn. “I can’t tell you until I’ve shared it with Leafpool.”

“Mothwing, Willowpaw!” Leafpool stood at the entrance to the medicine den. “Welcome! Come in!” She waited, holding back the trailing brambles, while Mothwing and Willowpaw weaved past her into the shadows beyond.

Hollykit stared wistfully after them as the leaves swished back into place. She felt a nudge in her flank and turned to see Lionkit butting her gently with his head.

“Why are you staring at them like a dumb rabbit?” he mewed. “Mothwing and Willowpaw have visited the camp before.”

Hollykit was unable to keep her wish to herself a moment longer. “I want to be a medicine cat!” she blurted out.