Early the following morning Larksong appeared at the entrance to the nursery to fetch Finpaw for training. Twigpaw followed her fellow apprentice out into the camp, looking around for her mentor.
“Where’s Sparkpelt?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Larksong replied, looking faintly anxious. “She wasn’t in the warriors’ den when I woke up. Perhaps you’d better look for her. Finpaw and I will wait.”
Oh, StarClan! Twigpaw thought, feeling guilty. Surely Bramblestar can’t have sent her away because I complained?
Twigpaw began to scour the camp, sticking her head into the elders’ den, where Graystripe and Millie were still asleep, and into the apprentices’ den, where most of the sick cats were curled up. There was no sign of Sparkpelt.
Then, as Twigpaw was approaching the medicine-cat den, she heard her mentor’s voice raised in a loud and annoyed meow. “I haven’t got time for this! I have an apprentice to train.”
Twigpaw’s ears twitched at Jayfeather’s growl, though she couldn’t make out the words. She brushed past the bramble screen and saw Sparkpelt sitting at the side of the den, licking up some leaves that looked like watermint.
“Twigpaw,” she rasped as she looked up to see her apprentice, “I have this StarClan-cursed sickness. You’ll have to train with Larksong today.”
“And for the next few days,” Jayfeather added. “Now eat the rest of those leaves and get yourself over to the apprentices’ den.”
With an irritated twitch of her whiskers, Sparkpelt obeyed. Her belly heaved, but to Twigpaw’s relief the healing herbs stayed down.
“I’m really sorry,” Twigpaw mewed. “I’ll come and see you later.”
“Thanks,” Sparkpelt growled. Her eyes were glazed and she looked exhausted; she seemed a different cat from the energetic Sparkpelt Twigpaw knew. “Twigpaw,” she added as Twigpaw turned to go, “I’ll give you some more challenging tasks when I recover. But for now, you’ll have to learn what you can with Larksong and Finpaw.”
“I’ll do my best,” Twigpaw promised.
She retreated from the den, dashed across the camp, and joined Larksong and Finpaw, who were waiting beside the entrance to the thorn tunnel.
When she gave them the news, Larksong glanced wistfully at the medicine cats’ den, as if he wanted to see Sparkpelt himself. Then he gave his pelt a shake. “Come on,” he meowed. “Hunting practice this morning.”
Twigpaw prepared to be bored as she followed Larksong and Finpaw into the forest. She tried hard to be patient while Larksong got Finpaw to practice the hunter’s crouch, even though she could see that Finpaw had forgotten all about what he should do with his tail.
Finally she had to speak. “Finpaw, if you keep letting your tail bob up and down, you’ll alert any prey you’re trying to stalk.”
“Oops. Okay, thanks, Twigpaw.” Finpaw tucked his tail in.
“Yes, thank you so much.” Larksong’s voice was heavily sarcastic. “I’m sure I’d never have noticed his tail. I couldn’t possibly have been waiting until I was sure he’d gotten his paws in the right position.” Then he relaxed a little and gave Twigpaw a friendly shove. “Come over here a moment.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “Finpaw, practice by yourself for a bit. Pretend that dead leaf over there is a mouse.”
“What do you want?” Twigpaw asked, as she and Larksong withdrew a few tail-lengths from where Finpaw was busy creeping up on the leaf.
“It’s not helping Finpaw to train with you,” Larksong told her. “You’re much more advanced, and it’s not fair to him. He’s so enthusiastic, and he’ll try to do the things you can do. If he fails, he might get despondent, and that will affect his confidence.”
Do you even know your apprentice? Twigpaw thought. That cat has enough confidence to fill up the stone hollow, and then some!
“I get that,” she meowed to Larksong. “So what do you want me to do?”
“You might as well go back to camp for now,” Larksong decided. “See if the elders need anything, or if you can help the medicine cats.”
Twigpaw dipped her head. “Okay.” As she padded off toward the camp, she heard Finpaw’s voice behind her, raised in a triumphant yowl. “Hey, Larksong, I killed the leaf!”
Back in camp, Twigpaw took fresh-kill to Graystripe and Millie, then looked in on the medicine cats. Sparkpelt had gone to join the other sick cats in the apprentices’ den; Whitewing was still curled up in her nest, though by now Plumkit was getting better and had gone back to her mother in the nursery.
“Hi, do you need me for anything?” she asked the medicine cats.
It was Alderheart who replied. “I don’t think so, right now, thanks. But I’ll call you if we do.”
Disappointed, Twigpaw retreated into the camp again. Her paws itched to be doing something, but she didn’t dare go off by herself to hunt, not after what had happened the day before.
Glancing around, she spotted Lilyheart stretched out on a rock at the side of the stone hollow, and padded over to join her. Lilyheart looked up at her, blinking affectionately.
“Hi, Twigpaw. No training today?”
“No, Sparkpelt is sick,” Twigpaw replied, not wanting to go into all the problems about training with Finpaw.
“Then you can come and talk to me.” Lilyheart gestured with her tail for Twigpaw to join her on the rock.
Twigpaw felt soothed by her welcome. When she had first come to ThunderClan as a tiny kit, Lilyheart had taken her into the nursery and cared for her as her own mother had never had a chance to. Twigpaw still felt a strong bond between them.
At least one cat is happy to see me, she thought, but a pang of grief pierced through her at the memory of when Lilyheart’s mate, Snowbush, had died in a rockslide. I wasn’t even in ThunderClan to comfort her when that happened.
“How are you today?” she asked, remembering that Lilyheart had been one of the first cats to fall ill.
“Better, but it’s a slow job,” her foster mother replied. “I just long to get out into the forest to have a good run and stretch my muscles. But when I get up, I can barely totter over to the fresh-kill pile!”
“Would you like some fresh-kill now?”
Lilyheart shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Giving Twigpaw a more penetrating look, she added, “But I can see that you’re not. Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”
Twigpaw hesitated, but her foster mother’s loving gaze encouraged her to speak. “I feel a little restless here in ThunderClan,” she confessed. “I don’t want to leave—far from it—but I’m not sure yet what my place is. I know I’m being stupid, but . . .” She paused again, needing to make sure her voice would be steady. “I guess I expected my Clanmates to be more excited to have me back.”
Lilyheart stretched out her neck to rasp her tongue over Twigpaw’s ear. “You’re not being stupid at all,” she mewed gently. “But, you know, it’s because we all loved you so much that we were so upset when you left. Now I’m happy, because I feel like I have all my kits back with me.”
Twigpaw nuzzled Lilyheart’s shoulder. “It’s Violetshine, too,” she continued. “Things are so strained between us now, and I hate it.”
“She’ll always be your sister,” Lilyheart reminded her.
“Yes, but I wish I had kin here in ThunderClan, too,” Twigpaw meowed. “They would understand me, or at least make things less difficult.”
Lilyheart reached her tail around to touch Twigpaw’s shoulder. “The Clan will trust you again,” she promised. “Maybe you need to prove to yourself that you belong here, instead of proving it to other cats.”