“But I don’t want to lose you!” Mistyfoot protested.
One clouded blue eye opened and gazed at her. “Really?” Leopardstar wheezed. “After what I did to your brother? To all the half-Clan cats?”
For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot was plunged back into the dark and stinking rabbit hole in RiverClan’s old camp in the forest. Tigerstar and Leopardstar had united to form TigerClan, and in their quest for the purest warrior blood, they had imprisoned all cats with mixed Clan heritage. Mistyfoot and Stonefur, who had been the RiverClan deputy, had recently learned that Bluestar of ThunderClan was their mother. This had been enough to condemn them in Leopardstar’s eyes, and she had allowed Tigerstar to persecute them until Stonefur had been killed, murdered in cold blood by Tigerstar’s deputy, Blackfoot. Mistyfoot had been rescued by Firestar and taken to ThunderClan until the terrible battle with BloodClan had ended Tigerstar’s death-soaked rule.
“I never deserved your forgiveness,” Leopardstar whispered, jerking Mistyfoot back to the cold, quiet den.
“Tigerstar was responsible for the death of my brother,” Mistyfoot growled. “Tigerstar and Blackfoot. The time of TigerClan had nothing to do with the warrior code that I believe in. I was always loyal to RiverClan—and to you, as our leader.”
Leopardstar sighed. “Your life has been harder than I wanted, Mistyfoot. Losing your brother and three of your kits. You have borne your heartache well.”
Mistyfoot stiffened. No cat would ever know the pain she had felt when she buried her children. “Every queen knows that the life of a kit is a precious and fragile thing. I will see them again in StarClan, and I walk with them in my heart every day,” she mewed.
There was a pause as Leopardstar strained to take a breath, and Mistyfoot half rose, ready to call for help. Then Leopardstar relaxed again. “I am sorry not to have known the joy of having kits. There was a time when I thought it might happen, but it was not to be.” Her words faded away as though she was picturing something she had dreamed of long ago. “Perhaps it was for the best. But I would have been proud to call you my daughter, Mistyfoot.”
Mistyfoot couldn’t reply. Her heart ached with the familiar sorrow that she had never had a chance to know her real mother, Bluestar. The ThunderClan leader had revealed her darkest secret to Mistyfoot and Stonefur just before she died on the banks of the river. For a moment, Mistyfoot had been scorched by the love of a mother, but then it had vanished, leaving a cold emptiness that could never be filled.
She curled herself around Leopardstar, just as she had tried to warm Bluestar’s sodden body all those moons ago.
“Sleep now,” she murmured into Leopardstar’s ear. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
Chapter 2
The wind had risen, stirring the bushes and making the waves splash against the shore, when Mistyfoot woke. The den was pale with dawn light that flickered as the branches of the rowan tree swayed in the breeze. Beside Mistyfoot, Leopardstar was cold and still. Mistyfoot rested her muzzle on the old cat’s head, then slipped out of the den and padded through the sleeping camp down to the shore. She stared over the choppy gray water, wondering if Leopardstar had joined their ancestors yet.
Paw steps behind her made Mistyfoot turn. Mothwing was stepping carefully over the stones. “Leopardstar is dead,” the medicine cat announced.
“I know,” Mistyfoot meowed. She closed her eyes against the rush of pain. She felt Mothwing come to stand beside her, spilling warmth and softness from her fur. “I don’t feel ready to lead this Clan,” Mistyfoot confessed in a whisper without opening her eyes. “How can I follow in Leopardstar’s footsteps?”
Mothwing rested her tail on Mistyfoot’s back. “You are more than ready,” she promised. “Think of the path you have traveled so far. You have seen more than most cats ever will in their lifetime.”
“That’s because I am old,” Mistyfoot pointed out. “Blackclaw was only a few seasons older than me! Sometimes I feel as if I have outstayed my welcome here, as if I should be walking in StarClan with Stonefur by now.”
“That’s mouse-brained, and you know it,” Mothwing retorted. “You have a long life yet to live. Nine long lives, in fact.”
Nine lives! For a heartbeat, Mistyfoot felt overwhelmed with tiredness. How would she find enough energy to lead her Clan when she could barely move her paws? Would she have a chance to feel sad about Leopardstar’s death, with so much to do? Mothwing seemed to sense her hesitation.
“There will be plenty of time to grieve for Leopardstar. I will be here whenever you need me. You are not alone, Mistyfoot. You must summon our Clanmates; tell them about Leopardstar. You are their leader now, and they need you as much as they needed Leopardstar.”
Keeping her tail on Mistyfoot’s spine, Mothwing led her back to the camp. Mistyfoot breathed in the delicate scent of herbs from her friend’s pelt and began to feel better. “I couldn’t do this without you,” she murmured.
“Nor should you have to,” Mothwing replied briskly. “I am your medicine cat, and I will do everything I can to help you.”
The clearing was already filling up with cats, who circled anxiously, whispering. Mistyfoot jumped onto the broad willow stump outside Leopardstar’s den and called to her Clanmates. “Let all cats old enough to swim gather to hear my words!” In spite of her grief, she couldn’t help feeling a rush of excitement as the cats stopped circling and settled on their haunches around the tree stump, gazing expectantly up at her. Mothwing was right! They see me as their leader even before I have been given my nine lives and my new name!
“Leopardstar has gone to walk with StarClan,” she announced. A murmur of sadness spread through the cats like a gust of cold wind.
“We were lucky to have her as our leader for so many moons,” Graymist mewed. “She was brave and strong-willed on behalf of all of us.”
“She told me I was doing really well in my battle training,” the apprentice Mossypaw commented mournfully.
Duskfur drew her kits closer with a sweep of her tail. “I had hoped she would live long enough to see these little ones become apprentices,” she sighed.
Beetlewhisker stood up, his brown-and-white pelt gleaming in the early rays of the sun. “When will you be getting your nine lives?” he asked Mistyfoot.
Mistyfoot winced. This was what she had been afraid of, that she would scarcely have time to draw breath—let alone mourn the former leader—before she was plunged into her new life. But she had been Leopardstar’s deputy for a long time, and she had always known what her duties would be when this moment came. And she couldn’t help looking forward to the chance to walk with Mothwing among her warrior ancestors, to learn the secrets of the future that would help her to lead her Clan. “I’ll go to the Moonpool as soon as I can,” she declared.
Mothwing stirred, and Mistyfoot looked questioningly at her. “We can wait until tomorrow,” meowed the medicine cat. “We must sit vigil for Leopardstar tonight.”
A black tom stood up and nodded to Mistyfoot. “I speak for all the warriors when I say that I will be honored to serve you as my leader,” he announced.
“Thank you, Reedwhisker,” Mistyfoot purred. Her mind flashed back to the time she had nursed this cat at her belly with his littermates; he was the only one of her kits who had survived, and every day she took pride in the warrior he had become.
Petalfur twitched her tail. “Some of us can speak for ourselves,” she mewed irritably. “But I will be as loyal to you as I was to Leopardstar, may she walk in peace among the stars.”