“I must be completely mouse-brained to be going along with this,” Dewspring grumbled from behind his apprentice. “We’ve already hunted today; we’re not going to catch anything now.”
“We might,” Rootpaw argued. “Prey might venture out as it gets darker.”
“And hedgehogs fly,” Dewspring retorted.
Rootpaw was pleased that he had managed to persuade his mentor to come out on one more hunt. He wanted to bring back enough prey to build up the fresh-kill pile. Then maybe his Clanmates would forgive him for that stupid business with the vole.
He’d been getting along better with Kitepaw and Turtlepaw since he had brought back the crow, but sometimes he caught them glancing at him resentfully over the dwindling fresh-kill pile. He could only assume it was because he had taken food to ThunderClan.
I never know which way to take them. Sometimes they’re fine with me, and sometimes they go back to being bullies. Will it still be like that when we all become warriors?
Even worse, Rootpaw had to admit they had a point. Prey had been scarce for so long, and every cat was hungry, even though SkyClan was better off than the other Clans. It must have been hard to see that vole leaving the territory and going to another Clan. Rootpaw wondered whether his Clanmates believed he’d wanted to pay back ThunderClan, or if they knew he was just a lovesick mouse-brain.
Thinking about his visit to ThunderClan made Rootpaw hot with embarrassment all over again. I made a complete fool of myself in front of Bristlepaw—and I was stupid to think it would have gone any other way. The memory of her chilly civility and the way she had passed his offering along to the elders still stung.
I’ve got to stop thinking about a she-cat from another Clan, he decided. Instead, he knew, he had to concentrate on making it up to his own Clan, and the best way to do that was to catch more prey. The trouble was, Dewspring was right—there might not be any to hunt. Even though SkyClan was better off than the other Clans, it hadn’t been easy to find the vole he had given to Bristlepaw.
But if my Clanmates are ever going to respect me, I have to try.
Clouds had covered the sun again, the red light fading into gloom. Rootpaw padded farther into the snowy woods, tasting the air for the least sign of prey. As he had feared, he could smell nothing but cold, earth, dead plants, and the faint traces of his Clanmates’ scents from when they had passed that way on earlier patrols.
“I told you this would be pointless,” Dewspring meowed after a while. “It’s obvious the prey is hiding from the cold, and who can blame them? Let’s go back to camp and rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Rootpaw spun around to face him, deeply disappointed. “At least let me stay out a bit longer,” he begged. “Please?”
Dewspring hesitated. “If you must,” he responded at last, with a sigh. “But don’t stay out once it’s full dark. If I have to come looking for you, I’ll tell every cat in the Clan to save up their ticks, just for you.”
Rootpaw cringed. Tick duty was one of the worst apprentice duties there was. “I won’t!” he promised.
Once Dewspring had left, Rootpaw headed farther into the forest, scratching at the ground and sniffing under bushes and among the roots of trees. Eventually he broke out into the open, at the top of a bank that sloped down to the edge of the frozen lake. But for all his efforts, he couldn’t pick up a single trace of prey.
Rootpaw was about to give in and return to camp when he caught a different scent in the air. ShadowClan? What is a ShadowClan cat doing here?
A moment later he spotted a small figure making its way along the edge of the lake, a dark outline against the icy surface. Rootpaw darted down the bank and halted in front of the interloper.
That’s Shadowpaw, the apprentice who told that weird story at the Gathering!
“What are you doing here?” Rootpaw demanded.
Shadowpaw looked startled and a little defensive. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he replied. “I’m staying within three tail-lengths of the lake, and I’m not taking prey. Anyway,” he finished defiantly, “I’m a medicine cat. I’m allowed to cross territory.”
“I never said you weren’t,” Rootpaw meowed. “But I’d still like to know where you’re going.”
Now the ShadowClan apprentice looked faintly guilty. “To the Moonpool,” he responded.
Rootpaw blinked at him, puzzled. “I know you’re training to be a medicine cat,” he began, “but you’re still only an apprentice. You’re not supposed to be going to the Moonpool alone, are you?”
Shadowpaw ducked his head. “Well . . . I sneaked out,” he admitted. “But I have a good reason. I just can’t tell any cat in my Clan.”
His claws raked the pebbly shore as he spoke; Rootpaw felt sympathy welling up inside him as he recognized how stressed and upset the ShadowClan apprentice was.
“I’m not in your Clan,” he pointed out. “You can tell me. And I promise that anything you say will stay between the two of us.”
Shadowpaw gave Rootpaw a long look, then nodded quickly, as if he had decided to trust him. “Last night was the half-moon meeting at the Moonpool,” he began. “I saw some things there, but no one else did, and I’m not sure what they mean. If I tell the rest of the Clan what I saw, cats could get hurt. My father would be furious, and the other cats in the Clan already think I’m weird.”
Rootpaw glanced at his paws. He didn’t want Shadowpaw to see in his eyes that he had heard that said about him before, from Kitepaw, who had heard it from ShadowClan apprentices at the Gathering. “But if you don’t tell any cat, something bad will happen?” Rootpaw looked at Shadowpaw, trying hard to understand.
“I don’t know. I thought I would go back to the Moonpool to see if I can make any more sense of it all.”
Rootpaw barely understood what the ShadowClan apprentice was talking about. He didn’t know much about medicine cats, but he could tell that Shadowpaw was having a hard time. He felt sorry for him, but at the same time oddly comforted.
I thought I was the only one who felt like an outsider, not quite fitting into my Clan. Now here’s Shadowpaw, and he’s struggling too. It feels . . . sort of good, knowing there’s another cat with the same problems.
Besides, it was a relief to realize that Tree wasn’t the only Clan cat whose powers made him seem odd.
“I know I can’t really help you,” he meowed to Shadowpaw, “but I’ll walk with you for part of the way, if that would make you feel better.”
Shadowpaw blinked at him gratefully. “I’d like that.”
The two cats padded along side by side. The cold was deepening as the last of the daylight died, and a chilly breeze rose from the lake. Rootpaw led the way up the bank and into the shelter of the trees.
“You can be more than three tail-lengths from the edge of the lake when you’re with me,” he assured Shadowpaw.
But they had hardly traveled more than a couple of fox-lengths in the forest when Rootpaw felt a sharp pain stab upward into his pad. He let out a yowl; lifting his paw, he saw a massive thorn sticking into it.
“Just what I need!” he snapped, furious with himself. “Now my Clanmates will think I can’t even take a walk without getting hurt.”
“They never need to know,” Shadowpaw pointed out. “I’m a medicine-cat apprentice. I can treat you—it’s the least I can do, when you’re keeping me company.”
“Okay, thanks.” Rootpaw sat down and stuck his paw out.
“Give it a good lick, and get the thorn out,” Shadowpaw directed. “I’m going to look for some dock leaves.”
Rootpaw did as he was told. Almost the whole of the thorn was buried in his pad, but eventually he managed to grip the shank in his teeth and draw it out. A trickle of blood came with it, and he licked that away.