“Fine,” Mothwing mewed levelly. “She’s going to be a great leader. Have you got a blade of grass I can tie this bundle with?”
The RiverClan medicine cat wasn’t giving anything away.
Jayfeather padded to the side of the cave and plucked a long stalk of grass poking from the base of the rock wall. As he carried it back to Mothwing, he took a deep breath and probed her recent memories.
Pale sunlight washed the Moonpool, reflecting the clear dawn sky. Jayfeather flinched at the bright images shimmering in Mothwing’s mind. He was used to the night shadows of the Moonpool. Mistystar must have been in a hurry to receive her nine lives.
Mothwing was watching Mistystar. Jayfeather could sense the grief and disquiet of the Clan they’d left behind as the RiverClan deputy crouched at the pool, her paws tucked beneath her, nose tip dabbing the water.
Jayfeather cocked his head. Mothwing’s sense of separation from her Clanmate felt strange. Her bond to her Clanmate was as strong as those Jayfeather felt for his own, and yet she was observing the ceremony like an outsider.
Mistystar suddenly flinched in her sleep with a cry of pain. Mothwing jumped, anxiety jabbing her. Does it hurt? The shocked thought echoed in her mind.
As Mistystar fell still once more, Mothwing fought the urge to creep forward and check that the RiverClan deputy was all right.
Was something real happening to her Clanmate?
No. Mothwing pushed away the thought.
Yes! Jayfeather willed her to accept it. How could she not believe? She was so stubborn. And yet Jayfeather was impressed by her determination.
They have not visited me; how can they be real? The thought burned like lightning in her mind.
Mistystar was stirring and Mothwing approached. “Are you all right?”
“You weren’t there!”
Mothwing stiffened; then calmness flooded her. The discovery of her secret seemed to bring her relief. “No.” She shook her head, meeting her leader’s gaze without guilt or worry. “You will always visit StarClan alone. They don’t exist for me in the way that they do for you.”
“You…you don’t believe in StarClan?” Mistystar’s pelt rippled with shock. “But you’ve been our medicine cat for so long! Have you never walked with StarClan in your dreams?”
Mothwing felt the stone, cool beneath her pads, weathered by countless moons. “You have your beliefs; I have mine. The cats you see in your dreams guide you and protect you in ways that I have lived without so far. I am a good medicine cat and that has been enough to serve my Clan.”
Mistystar gazed at her medicine cat a moment longer, then dipped her head.
Jayfeather blinked, darkness engulfing him once more as he slid out of Mothwing’s thoughts.
He could feel her gaze like a breeze stirring his pelt. She was watching him curiously; she had known all along that he was inside her memories, reliving the scene at the Moonpool. “You know I have no connection with them,” she reminded him. Her tail brushed the earth. “It doesn’t make me any less of a medicine cat.” She tied the grass around the bundle. “You need to understand that.” She picked up the herbs, her jaws releasing their fragrance as they closed softly around the leaves. Then she turned and padded from the den.
Jayfeather listened to the bramble swish behind her, his paws tingling. Even without StarClan to guide and strengthen her, Mothwing was formidable. Instinctively he dipped his head to her, just as Mistystar had done. StarClan had made a wise choice after all.
Chapter 3
Jayfeather looked up as the brambles at the entrance to his den swished.
Lionblaze poked his head through. “Mistystar and Mothwing have gone.”
Jayfeather could feel urgency rippling beneath the golden warrior’s pelt. “What’s wrong?”
Lionblaze hesitated.
“Let’s go into the forest,” Jayfeather suggested.
In answer, Lionblaze turned and headed for the camp entrance. Jayfeather let the thoughts and feelings of his Clanmates flood his mind for a moment, searching for any signs of need. All was well. Satisfied, he followed his brother out of the camp.
Lionblaze was already pounding through the trees toward the lake. As Jayfeather caught up to him, the scent of the water bathed his tongue.
“I can see RiverClan fishing,” Lionblaze told him.
A cool, damp breeze rushed through the trees, sending leaves showering onto their pelts. The lake rippled and splashed below.
“So, what’s up?” Jayfeather broached the question.
Before Lionblaze could answer, bushes farther along the shore crackled, and Briarpaw and Bumblepaw came crashing out of the undergrowth, dragging a fat rabbit between them.
They halted and Jayfeather could feel the happiness pulsing from their pelts. Graystripe and Millie’s kits were growing fast. They’d be warriors come leaf-bare.
“Impressive catch,” Lionblaze praised. “Where’d you find it?”
“It was grazing by the stream.” Bumblepaw was out of breath.
“It was me who caught it,” Briarpaw boasted.
“Only because I blocked its escape.” Bumblepaw’s purr rumbled deep in his throat.
“You just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Briarpaw retorted.
The leaves rustled on the forest floor as the littermates fell into a mock fight, tumbling between the slender trees. Jayfeather could sense the strength beneath their pelts. Their minds were filled with green flashes from running through the woods, a mixture of prey-scent and falling leaves and their own fearless pride. A sudden, fierce gladness caught him. ThunderClan was lucky to have cats like these.
“They’ll make great warriors,” Lionblaze whispered, echoing Jayfeather’s thoughts.
“Yes,” Jayfeather agreed, remembering the long, anxious days he’d nursed Briarpaw and Millie through a severe bout of greencough.
“You shouldn’t leave prey unattended!” Lionblaze called to the two young cats. “Some warrior might claim it for his own.”
The apprentices scrambled back to them, panting.
“Paws off!” Bumblepaw warned good-naturedly.
“Hey!” Blossompaw’s petulant mew sounded through the trees and the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat bounded out from the undergrowth. “I thought you were going to wait for me! Now everyone will think you caught the rabbit without me.”
“We waited for ages,” Bumblepaw objected. “We thought you’d gone back to camp without us.”
Blossompaw sat down. “Why would I do that?”
“So you can moon over Toadstep some more?” Briarpaw teased.
“I do not moon over Toadstep!” Blossompaw snapped. “Why are you being mean?”
“Why are you being grumpy?” Bumblepaw didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s take this rabbit to the camp. Mousewhisker is expecting me back for training.” He began dragging the rabbit through the trees. Briarpaw hurried after him, her paws skidding on the leaves as she caught hold of the fresh-kill.
Blossompaw stomped after them, complaining, “You’re leaving me behind again!”
Lionblaze stirred the leaves with one paw. “Did we fight that much?”
Jayfeather felt a prick of grief, remembering the games they’d played with Hollyleaf as kits and then as ’paws. “I guess.” The breeze tugged his fur.
He could sense words on the tip of Lionblaze’s tongue, hesitancy on his breath. At last the golden warrior spoke. “Ivypaw stepped on a broken stick earlier.”
Jayfeather nodded. “I put ointment on her wound.” He suddenly knew what was coming next. Ivypaw hadn’t told him that her injury had come from a stick; he might have guessed Lionblaze’s news earlier if she had.