What would happen to ThunderClan now that their leader was ill?
“Thanks, Jaypaw,” Leafpool mewed, taking the coltsfoot from him. “Here, Firestar, eat these.”
“I’m not that sick,” Firestar protested, his voice already roughened from coughing. “You should keep the herbs for cats who need them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Leafpool snapped. “You need them.
I’m your medicine cat now, and don’t you forget it.”
“You were so quiet when you were a kit.” Weary amusement crept into Firestar’s voice. “I never thought you would turn out this bossy.”
“Well, I did, so do as you’re told.” Leafpool sounded full of affection for her father. “Come on—you know the Clan needs you to be strong and fit.”
As Firestar chewed up the herbs, Jaypaw slipped out of the den and down into the clearing. Halting at the foot of the rocks, he tasted the air, hoping to find an apprentice to fetch fresh bedding for Firestar. At least the Clan leader could be kept apart in his den, so that he wouldn’t pass on the sickness to healthy cats.
But instead of an apprentice’s, the first scent Jaypaw picked up was Brambleclaw’s.
“What’s going on?” the deputy asked.
“You shouldn’t go up there.” Jaypaw blocked Brambleclaw from climbing the rocks. “Firestar has greencough.”
“Oh, great StarClan!” Brambleclaw’s voice was shocked.
“You are helping him, aren’t you?”
“Leafpool’s with him,” Jaypaw meowed. “She’ll do her best.”
“I know.” His father sounded a little reassured. “Let me pass, Jaypaw. I’ve got to speak to Firestar about the patrols.”
“Okay.” Jaypaw moved out of the way. “Stay out on the Highledge, though, and talk to him from there. Don’t get too close.”
Jaypaw tasted the air again as Brambleclaw’s paw steps receded up the rocks, but he still couldn’t pick up Foxpaw’s or Icepaw’s scent. This time, it was Graystripe who padded up to him.
“Jaypaw, how is Millie?” he demanded. “She’s really sick, isn’t she?”
Jaypaw would have liked to find a comforting lie, but he knew that Graystripe would never believe it. He nodded, and was almost knocked off his paws by the strength of the agony that surged over him from the gray warrior. Is that love? he wondered. Does Graystripe care about Millie that much? It’s as if his own life was in danger!
“The silver cat who died,” he mewed. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
Graystripe caught his breath, startled. “Y-yes. Her name was Silverstream. She was Stormfur and Feathertail’s mother.”
He fell silent, wreathed in sad memories.
“You couldn’t have done anything to save her,” Jaypaw told him. “She lives in StarClan, and she’s watching over Millie now. She doesn’t want Millie to join her in StarClan yet, not when she has your kits to care for.”
“You know all this?” Graystripe asked, shocked.
Jaypaw nodded. “I heard her in a vision.”
“It’s so like Silverstream to care,” Graystripe murmured, “but it’s not much comfort right now. StarClan can’t fight greencough any better than we can here.” He sounded defeated, as if he had made up his mind that he was going to lose Millie as he had lost Silverstream.
Anger scorched through Jaypaw like a devouring flame. Cats won’t die! I’l do something! He wanted to battle the sickness, not only for the dying cats of his own Clan, and for warriors like Graystripe who loved them, but for all the cats of StarClan, who didn’t want any more cats in their ranks, not so many and so soon.
And for Brightspirit, he added. She came to help me. And somehow I’ll work out the meaning of what she said.
Still looking for Foxpaw and Icepaw, Jaypaw padded over to the apprentices’ den. Before he reached it, he scented a hunting patrol returning through the thorn tunneclass="underline" Brackenfur, Lionblaze, Cloudtail, and Cinderheart. All four of them were carrying prey, but Jaypaw could sense their weariness and discouragement.
It’s happening just like Leafpool said, he thought. So many cats are sick, there aren’t enough for all the patrols.
Jaypaw stuck his head through the bracken that grew against the entrance to the apprentices’ den. Little snuff ling sounds told him Foxpaw was asleep. His breathing was even; the day before, Leafpool had given him a dose of tansy, and it seemed to have cleared up his cough.
One less cat to worry about.
“Hey!” Jaypaw slipped inside the den and poked Foxpaw with one paw. “Wake up!”
“Wha…?” Foxpaw raised his head.
“I need you to fetch fresh bedding for Firestar.”
The ginger apprentice let out a huge noisy yawn. “Can’t some other cat do it? I did the dawn patrol, and a hunting patrol with Sandstorm. She said I could have a rest.”
Jaypaw couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy.
“Every cat is overworked,” he meowed. “Icepaw could help you if you can find her.”
“She’s out hunting with Whitewing,” Foxpaw told him, scrambling to his paws and grunting as he stretched. “Okay, I’m coming.”
“Make sure the bedding’s dry,” Jaypaw instructed as Foxpaw brushed past the ferns into the clearing. “And get rid of the old stuff well away from camp. Firestar’s sick.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Foxpaw’s voice was full of dismay.
His paw steps receded, racing toward the tunnel.
Jaypaw padded over to the fresh-kill pile and collected a squirrel for the elders. Before he reached their den under the hazel bush, he could hear Longtail coughing, and a comforting murmur from Mousefur.
“Here you are.” Jaypaw dragged the squirrel into the den and dropped it beside Mousefur. “How are you, Longtail?”
“His cough’s getting worse,” Mousefur snapped. “When are you going to fetch him some catmint?”
When hedgehogs f ly. Jaypaw suppressed the sharp comment.
“We haven’t got any,” he told Mousefur. “I’ll fetch him some tansy, though, and borage for the fever.”
Mousefur snorted. “A poor medicine cat you turned out to be, if you haven’t even got catmint.”
Once again Jaypaw stopped himself from snapping back at her. He knew that the cranky elder was worried about her denmate. At least the tansy leaves Mousefur had eaten had kept her from getting sick… so far.
“Longtail, try to eat some of the fresh-kill,” he urged. “You need to keep your strength up.”
“Okay,” Longtail croaked between bouts of coughing.
“Thanks, Jaypaw.”
With a nod to Mousefur, Jaypaw left the den and padded back to the fresh-kill pile to fetch prey for the sick cats in the warriors’ den. When he pushed his way through the branches, he located Thornclaw and Dustpelt in nests to one side. Ferncloud was curled up close to her mate.
“This is ridiculous,” the tabby warrior was mewing. “I’m perfectly able to go out on patrol.”
“No, you’re not,” Ferncloud told him. “You’re staying here if I have to hold you down.” Jaypaw heard her tongue rasping affectionately over her mate’s pelt.
Jaypaw dropped a mouse in front of Dustpelt and another beside Thornclaw. The golden tabby had been ill for longer than any cat except Millie, and his breathing sounded fast and shallow. He lay on one side, and didn’t respond when Jaypaw checked him with a paw. His pelt was rough and Jaypaw could feel every one of his ribs. Jaypaw’s muscles tensed. Thornclaw could already be on his way to StarClan.