Anger and horror flooded through Leafstar. “That’s not true!” she whispered, rising to her paws and backing away. Or is there a truth there that I dare not admit?
She looked at Skywatcher for support, but the gray tom did not speak. Instead, he leaped at Swallowflight, knocking him over and rolling him in the sand. Swallowflight fought back viciously, his hind paws scrabbling at Skywatcher as he tried to sink his teeth into the gray cat’s neck.
Skywatcher let out a screech. Leafstar jumped at the noise, and found herself back in her own nest, scrabbling among the moss and bracken.
“It was a dream!” she gasped, struggling for deep breaths to steady the pounding of her heart.
Sunlight poured into her den, and from outside she could hear the movement and voices of cats going about the tasks of the new day. She sat up and started to groom her pelt, feeling as if every hair of it was tangled and filthy.
A few heartbeats later a shadow fell across the sunlight as Echosong popped her head into the den. “Are you okay?” she meowed. “It’s late; I thought you might be sick.”
“No, I’m fine,” Leafstar replied, her voice still shaky.
She was lying. Her dream clung to the corners of her mind and Swallowflight’s challenge echoed off the walls around her. How many StarClan warriors felt the same scorn for her Clan of daylight-warriors? Have I really gone so far wrong?
Then she reminded herself that Skywatcher had been ready to fight on her behalf. And Spottedleaf, Cloudstar, Birdflight, and Fawnstep had all encouraged her. Maybe Swallowflight, whoever he is, has his own problems.
Even so, she was unsettled by the knowledge that StarClan cats would fight among themselves. Leafstar had been taught by Firestar to rely on the wisdom of her warrior ancestors, and she had never seen such rage unleashed among their own ranks before now. Two sides to an argument meant that one side had to be wrong, didn’t it? So which cats was she supposed to listen to?
Great StarClan, what am I going to do if I can’t even trust you?
Leafstar followed Echosong down toward the river. The sun was climbing into a clear sky, filling the gorge with warmth. Even the rocks were hot under Leafstar’s pads as she made her way down the trail.
Fallowfern’s kits were sprawled in a patch of shade at the foot of the cliff, with their mother standing over them.
“But we don’t want to clean out the nursery,” Nettlekit was complaining. “It’s too hot.”
“I just want to sleep,” Rabbitkit murmured drowsily.
“That’s too bad,” Fallowfern meowed, giving the nearest kit a prod with one paw. “The nursery won’t clean itself.”
“Why can’t the apprentices do it?” Plumkit argued.
Fallowfern’s eyes widened and she let out a shocked hiss. “Don’t be so lazy!” she scolded her daughter. “You’re old enough to do it yourselves now. Come along right away, and don’t let me hear another word from any of you!”
Groaning and muttering under their breath, the four kits hauled themselves to their paws and trudged up the path, with Fallowfern right behind.
That must be the first time I’ve seen those kits when they weren’t bouncing around, Leafstar thought, amusement driving away some part of her worries. She spotted Clovertail stumbling awkwardly down from the new birthing den and padding over to Echosong. Her pale brown fur was clumped and untidy.
“I feel as if my belly’s going to burst!” she complained to the medicine cat. “And this heat isn’t helping at all.”
“I know, it’s hard for you when it’s time for your kits to come,” Echosong soothed her. “Come and sleep outside my den—there’s a cool and shady patch there. And I’ll give you some borage; that should help.”
“Thank you, Echosong,” Clovertail mewed, limping off behind the medicine cat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Blinking approvingly, Leafstar turned toward the Rockpile, where Sharpclaw was sorting out the patrols. Her deputy didn’t speak to her, but gave her a cautiously cordial nod. Leafstar returned the gesture, though she was still unhappy that they hadn’t yet discussed the way he had kept secrets from her. All four Twolegplace cats were standing in a cluster at one side. They seemed more subdued than usual; Leafstar wondered if they had given up all hope of finding help. A pang of guilt stabbed through her. I wish I knew what was the right thing to do.
She was still pondering when the daylight-warriors appeared at the top of the gorge. No cheerful yowling announced their arrival this morning; the heat seemed to be affecting them, too, as they padded down the trail with Billystorm in the lead.
As the ginger-and-white tom approached Leafstar he gave her an inquiring look and cocked his head toward Sharpclaw. Even in the hot sunlight, a chill ran through Leafstar. Billystorm obviously wanted to know what had happened after she left him the night before. She felt like a coward for turning away from him. But what can I say to him? I’m not even sure myself what this all means.
“It’s so hot!” Macgyver complained, his paws dragging as he headed toward Sharpclaw. “Do we have to hunt in this weather?”
“Yeah, I feel as if my pelt is burning,” Harveymoon added.
Sharpclaw opened his jaws for a scathing retort, but Leafstar forestalled him. She was grateful to Harveymoon and Macgyver for distracting her from Billystorm, and she noticed that their pelts were especially thick. They were probably feeling the heat more than their Clanmates.
“Fallowfern is cleaning out the nursery,” she meowed. “Why don’t you fetch her some fresh moss from the cave? It must be nice and cool in there.”
“Great! Thanks, Leafstar,” Macgyver responded, waving his tail to beckon Harveymoon. “Let’s go!”
“Be careful of the path—it’s slippery!” Leafstar reminded them as they climbed the Rockpile. She turned back to Sharpclaw, expecting some complaint that she was favoring the kittypets, but her deputy said nothing.
The last patrols were leaving; Leafstar slipped alongside Shrewtooth as he led Ebonyclaw and Frecklepaw toward the Rockpile. “Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Shrewtooth blinked in pleased surprise. “We’d be glad to have you, Leafstar,” he meowed, dipping his head and falling back to let her take the lead.
“No, you lead, Shrewtooth,” Leafstar instructed.
She noticed Ebonyclaw giving her a pleased look, and remembered how concerned the black she-cat had been that Shrewtooth wasn’t getting on well in the Clan. He was doing better now, Leafstar reflected, as the young black tom led the way across the heap of boulders and up the opposite side of the gorge. He was carefully checking each marker, tasting the air for any unfamiliar scents, and sending Ebonyclaw to check on a hole that had opened up among the roots of an oak tree.
“I think it’s just fallen earth,” the black she-cat reported. “There’s no scent of anything but leaves and beetles.”
Leafstar began to relax as the patrol continued along the border. The thick green leaves overhead sheltered them from the worst of the heat; the forest floor was dim and cool, and the long grass brushed refreshingly against her pelt.
This is how Clan life should be.
Suddenly Shrewtooth halted, his ears pricked. “I hear something!” he announced.
Gazing around for the source of the sound, Leafstar spotted a hollow tree just across the border. Bees were flying in and out of a hole high up in the trunk. Their low-pitched humming was what had alerted Shrewtooth.
“Bees!” Frecklepaw exclaimed, her whiskers quivering. “Honey is so good for soothing sore throats. And for binding poultices together.”
Leafstar couldn’t resist a glance at Ebonyclaw, expecting to see the black she-cat looking annoyed. Instead, she caught a resigned eye-roll from Frecklepaw’s mentor. Maybe Frecklepaw is meant to be a medicine cat after all.