“Mistystar!” called Troutpaw.
Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes at the pale gray apprentice. “Not yet, Troutpaw. Not until I have received my nine lives.” Tomorrow I will walk with our ancestors, and say good-bye to my warrior name forever.
Mistyfoot jumped down from the tree stump and called to Grasspelt: “Could you lead a hunting patrol before sunhigh? Take Minnowtail and Mossypaw, and Icewing if she feels up to it.”
The white she-cat sniffed. “Of course I’m up to it! I’ve spent the last three sunrises stuck in this camp, so I’m more than ready to stretch my legs.”
Mistyfoot hid a purr of amusement. “You’re allowed to rest as much as you want after journeying to the beavers’ dam,” she reminded Icewing. “But if you feel like hunting, then we’d all be grateful for your sharp eyes.”
Reedwhisker padded up to Mistyfoot. “Would you like me to visit the other Clans and let them know about Leopardstar’s death?”
Mistyfoot shook her head. “No. They’ll find out soon enough. We must honor Leopardstar by carrying out our duties as usual.”
“In that case, should I lead a boundary patrol?” Reedwhisker offered. “I want to be sure that the fox we scented yesterday hasn’t come any closer to the camp.”
Mistyfoot nodded. “Yes, please. And keep an eye out for squirrels or mice while you’re on that side of the territory. In case there aren’t many fish to be found in the lake yet.” She wondered if any of her Clanmates knew just how empty the water seemed to be. If they haven’t noticed on their own, I’m not going to point it out to them. But we might need to stock the fresh-kill pile with other prey for a while.
“You won’t have to do this for much longer,” mewed Graymist close to her ear.
Mistyfoot jumped. “Do what?” She wondered if she had said something about the lack of fish out loud.
Graymist nodded toward the cats who were gathering into groups. “Organize patrols. You’ll have to appoint a deputy before moonhigh, won’t you?”
“A deputy?” Mistyfoot echoed. “Yes, of course.”
The she-cat looked at her closely. “Do you know who you’ll choose? You must have thought about it before now.”
Mistyfoot didn’t think she could admit that no, she hadn’t. Of course she had known that Leopardstar was sick, but she hadn’t really imagined that the leader’s ninth life would end. There was so much to do! And all of it seemed to rest on her shoulders. To her relief, Reedwhisker called Graymist to join his border patrol and Mistyfoot didn’t have to answer.
For a moment the bushes were alive with movement as cats headed out on their patrols; then suddenly the clearing was empty and silent. Mistyfoot drew a deep breath and looked around. Everything was reassuringly familiar, from the well-trodden bare earth where the cats sat to eat and share tongues to the carefully draped brambles that hid the different dens. Only Mistyfoot felt changed beyond recognition, daunted and breathless at the thought of what lay ahead.
“Mistyfoot?” Willowshine was standing at the entrance to the medicine cats’ den, which was shielded between two mossy rocks. She trotted across the flattened grass with her tail kinked over her back. “Do you want me to come with you to the Moonpool? When you go to receive your nine lives, I mean.”
Mistyfoot blinked. “Isn’t that Mothwing’s duty?”
“Well, yes,” mewed Willowshine, sounding a little uncertain. “But as it’s your first time sharing tongues with our ancestors, I thought you might like more company.”
Mistyfoot purred. “I’m not afraid of walking in StarClan, little one. But you are kind to offer, and one day I’m sure you will accompany your leader as they receive their nine lives. But it’s Mothwing’s responsibility this time.”
Again there was a puzzling flash of hesitation in the gray tabby’s eyes; then she nodded. “Of course,” she meowed. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I wish you well.” She ducked away, back to her den, leaving Mistyfoot frowning after her. Whatever happens tomorrow? Was there something she should be afraid of? She shrugged, deciding that Willowshine was just a little too eager to prove her merit as a medicine cat, and perhaps not quite experienced enough for all of the responsibilities.
She crossed the clearing to the Clan’s favorite basking place, a sandy slope that was a poor substitute for Sunningrocks, according to the cats who remembered the forest. Dapplenose and Pouncetail lay in the soft golden light, their tails twitching and their eyes half-closed. But I bet they haven’t missed a single moment of what’s happened this morning, Mistyfoot thought.
“We need to find somewhere to bury Leopardstar,” she mewed, feeling grief weigh in her belly like a stone.
The elders nodded, and Dapplenose stood up, shaking sand from her mottled gray pelt. “I know just the place. Follow me.” Pouncetail got to his paws more stiffly, stretching out each ginger-and-white leg in turn. Dapplenose led them over the crest of a slope and into the spindly trees on the other side. She swerved along a half-hidden path through a dense patch of comfrey until they emerged in a little clearing, shaded by a young rowan tree with a clear view of the lake and the island where the Clans gathered at each full moon. Behind the island, the hills where WindClan lived rose up to meet the clouds—and beyond that ridge lay the forest, Leopardstar’s first home.
“I’ve always thought this would be a good spot for Leopardstar to rest,” Dapplenose explained.
Mistyfoot nodded. “It’s perfect. Are you able to dig the hole, or should I fetch some help?”
Pouncetail snorted. “For StarClan’s sake, trust us to do this one last duty for our leader! Do you think we’ve lost the use of our legs?”
Dapplenose lay her tail across her denmate’s shoulders. “Ignore this bad-tempered old trout,” she told Mistyfoot. “But he’s right that we can manage. You should go back to the clearing and have something to eat. You look exhausted, and you’ll need your strength for the journey to the Moonpool.”
Feeling a little overwhelmed by the old she-cat’s motherly sympathy, Mistyfoot thanked them and pushed her way back through the comfrey. In the clearing, Grasspelt’s patrol had returned with a catch of two tiny minnows, and set out again. Duskfur was prodding the minnows thoughtfully, but when Mistyfoot appeared, she pushed them toward her. “You take these,” she urged. “My kits and I can eat later.”
Mistyfoot blinked. Was she so old that her Clanmates were worried about her ability to cope with becoming leader?
Duskfur seemed to guess her thoughts. “Let us help you however we can,” she prompted gently. “We know the sacrifices you will be making for us from now on.”
Mistyfoot didn’t argue. She couldn’t tell Duskfur how isolated she suddenly felt from the cats who had been her friends and denmates all her life. Leopardstar’s death had changed everything. Thank StarClan I have Mothwing, she thought. She’s the only cat who understands how it feels to be responsible for the entire Clan.
As she chewed on the minnow, she watched the two medicine cats carefully pull Leopardstar’s body out of her den and cover her pelt with rosemary and watermint. The scent of the fresh herbs hung in the air, smothering the taint of death. Mistyfoot heard Willowshine warn Mothwing that they were using the last of their supplies of watermint, but Mothwing just shook her head and told her to keep going. “Leopardstar needs it more than we do now,” she insisted.
Mistyfoot’s heart swelled with warmth toward her old friend. She knew how lucky she was to have Mothwing as her medicine cat. There was no way she could even contemplate the path ahead without her.