Leafpool kept on with her work. But the coltsfoot in her paws grew more fragrant, as though her pads were twitching with unease. “What were they like?” she mewed.
“They’re a bit like StarClan.” They had known I would come.
They knew about the prophecy. “But they didn’t try to help the Tribe to beat the invaders.”
“Sometimes even our ancestors are powerless to help us.”
Leafpool sighed.
“But it was like they were lost.” Jaypaw couldn’t shake the idea that the Tribe hadn’t always lived in the mountains; that they had lived far away from the bitter winds and craggy peaks, among cats who were the first to know about the prophecy of three.
Leafpool had paused in her task, and he could sense her watching him, curiosity flashing from her pelt.
“I was surprised Stoneteller was leader and medicine cat,” he mewed before she could ask any more questions about the Tribe of Endless Hunting.
“It’s a lot of responsibility for one cat,” Leafpool agreed.
She began rolling the coltsfoot again. “Great knowledge can be lonely.”
Jaypaw’s heart lurched. Does she mean the prophecy? Does she know? She can’t! She would have said something. His heart began to slow as he reassured himself that Leafpool would never be able to ignore a secret like that. Nevertheless, he tried to search her thoughts for some clue. The usual fog barred his way. He could sense only wistfulness engulfing her like a cloud. She might not know about the prophecy, but something was troubling her.
Why did she often seem so unhappy? He wanted to cheer her up. “Can I get you some fresh-kill?” he offered.
“No.” Leafpool gave herself a small shake, as though banishing her thoughts. “But you can start putting the comfrey back in storage.”
As Jaypaw backed in through the cleft with a wad of comfrey between his jaws, a voice sounded at the entrance.
“Leafpool?”
Jaypaw recognized Cloudtail.
“You’re here.” The warrior sounded relieved to find Leafpool in her den.
Jaypaw stayed where he was. He could busy himself rolling and stacking the comfrey at the back of the cleft while Leafpool and Cloudtail talked.
“Are you hurt?” Leafpool asked.
“No.” Cloudtail was pacing the cave. “I’m worried about Cinderpaw.”
Jaypaw pricked his ears. So far, only he and Leafpool knew that Cinderpaw had lived before as ThunderClan’s medicine cat, Cinderpelt; that she had been given a second chance to live her life as she had always dreamed—as a warrior of ThunderClan. Cinderpaw herself didn’t realize. But she sometimes showed flashes of knowledge that only memory could have taught her, and she talked about the old forest as though she had seen it with her own eyes. Was Cloudtail beginning to suspect that there was something unusual about his apprentice?
“Is she okay?” Leafpool’s breathing had quickened with his own.
Jaypaw leaned closer to the opening.
“Do you think she’s ready for her final assessment?” Cloudtail asked in a rush. “Honeypaw and Poppypaw are, but I don’t want to put Cinderpaw through the test unless her leg is fully recovered.”
Leafpool hesitated.
Why isn’t she answering? Alarmed, Jaypaw groped for her thoughts. This time he was determined to make it through the fog. His breath caught in his throat. A memory lit Leafpool’s mind, a memory so strong that it couldn’t be hidden.
Walls of rock enclosed a snow-filled ravine. At once Jaypaw recognized the old forest camp he had visited in Cinderpaw’s dream. Snow blanketed the dens and bushes, but a hollow had been cleared in the center, and here limped a gray she-cat, tail down, whiskers white with frost. She was so thin Jaypaw could see her bones like the branches of a leafless tree. A biting wind sent flurries of powdery snow scudding across the makeshift clearing. Jaypaw shivered with cold, caught in Leafpool’s memory like fur in a thistle.
Leafpool was padding toward the gray she-cat, snowflakes dappling her coat. She looked young, with the rounded face of a kit and her fur fluffed up against the cold. “Cinderpelt, let me fetch you some fresh-kill,” she begged. “A hunting patrol has just returned with a blackbird.”
Hope sparked in Cinderpelt’s dull eyes. “A blackbird?” she murmured. “We haven’t seen prey like that for a while.”
“Let me bring you some,” Leafpool insisted.
Cinderpelt’s expression changed abruptly. Now her eyes were like chips of ice. “Don’t waste it on me!” she snapped.
“The elders and queens must eat first. And the warriors and apprentices. They need their strength if they are to find more food.”
“But you need strength, too,” Leafpool argued. “You’re looking after the cats with whitecough. What if it turns to greencough? They’ll need you even more.”
Cinderpelt dipped her head, then spoke more gently. “With this leg, I can’t walk far. Especially when the cold makes it ache. I can get by on less food than the others.” There was grief and longing in her voice. Jaypaw could hear the words Cinderpelt did not speak: If I weren’t crippled, I could be out there too, finding food for my Clanmates…
“She’s fine.” Leafpool’s bright mew jolted him back into the present. His mentor was reassuring Cloudtail enthusiastically.
“Nothing will stop her from becoming a warrior.”
“I’ve noticed her leg is stiff in some of her battle moves.”
Cloudtail sounded uncertain. “I’m worried she’s not telling me when it hurts.”
“Then it probably doesn’t hurt,” Leafpool mewed.
“Perhaps you could watch her next training session?”
Cloudtail ventured. “To make sure?”
“No need.” Leafpool was brisk. “She’s going to make a great warrior. You should be proud of her.”
“I am,” Cloudtail assured her. “But I don’t want to push her. If she needs more time to recover I’m happy to wait.”
“You’re not pushing her, I’m sure,” Leafpool insisted.
Jaypaw sensed Cloudtail’s doubt melt away.
“I’m relieved to hear it,” the warrior meowed.
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Are you coming to eat?” Cloudtail asked. “A hunting party’s just returned.”
Jaypaw waited for the two cats to leave before he hopped out of the cleft in the rock. He could still feel Cinderpelt’s grief like a wound in his mind. How had Leafpool pushed it away so easily? She must have felt it; the memory was hers. Yet she had sounded so bright when she had spoken to Cloudtail.
Unnaturally bright, as though covering doubt. Jaypaw picked up a bundle of coltsfoot and headed back into the store. He hoped that Leafpool was right about Cinderpaw’s injury.
Chapter 5
Leafpool was sharing a mouse with Cloudtail when Jaypaw nosed his way out of the medicine cat den and padded to the fresh-kill pile.
There was plenty of prey to choose from. Hunting patrols had already stacked it full, and it was hardly sunhigh. As he dragged a shrew from the bottom—so fresh it still felt warm—the image of Cinderpelt starving in the snowy camp flashed in his mind. Was Leafpool thinking of her old mentor as she ate her meal?
“Jaypaw!” Graystripe was bounding across the clearing toward him. The warrior skidded to a halt. “Eat up! We’re going hunting.”
“Me?” Jaypaw’s heart soared.
“Sorreltail, Mousewhisker, and I will be hunting,” Graystripe corrected him. He must have realized Jaypaw’s disappointment. He whisked his tail along Jaypaw’s flank.
“You’ve got a more important job. Leafpool wants you to come with us to gather herbs.”