“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Lionblaze snapped. “All you ever think about is this dumb prophecy.”
Jayfeather bit back a sharp reply as he realized that his brother’s grief was tangled with longing for Cinderheart. “Try me,” he suggested.
For a few heartbeats Lionblaze was silent. “I know Cinderheart wants to be with me,” he meowed grudgingly at last. “But she thinks she can’t, because I have a destiny. She thinks I’m too important!” He spat out the last word and stalked away before Jayfeather could reply.
Anger surged up inside Jayfeather, and for a moment he wanted to yowl his pain to the sky. Half Moon… No cat in ThunderClan knew of his love for the long-ago cat, lost to him now through the passing of so many seasons. He would have given anything to have her beside him again. Remembering her now helped him to understand his brother’s hurt and frustration.
“She thinks he’s the only cat who’s important?” he muttered to himself. “Maybe it’s time some cat showed her just how wrong she is.”
That night Jayfeather curled up in his nest and took a deep breath before letting himself sink into sleep. He knew exactly where he wanted to go.
Somehow we have to settle this, once and for all. Not for Lionblaze, or even the Clan, but for Cinderheart. I have to show her what a great cat she is.
His eyes opened in a sun-filled forest, where thick foliage rustled above his head and the undergrowth was filled with the murmurings of prey. Jayfeather padded through the ferns, enjoying the cool grass beneath his pads and the warmth of sunbeams that struck down through the canopy. All his senses were alert as he searched for one particular cat.
Soon he heard a rush of paws, a pounce, and a hiss of disappointment. “Mouse dung! I missed it!”
Heading in the direction of the voice, Jayfeather bounded around a tree stump and burst into a sun-dappled clearing. Cinderheart was standing at the foot of a tree, looking up with a disgusted expression on her face. On a branch above her head a squirrel was chattering crossly.
“Bad luck,” Jayfeather meowed.
Cinderheart started. “Wow! Jayfeather—I didn’t expect to see you here.” A fearful look flickered in her eyes. “I am still dreaming, right? I’m not in StarClan?”
“Don’t worry,” Jayfeather reassured her. “This isn’t StarClan. Everything’s fine, and yes, you are dreaming. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Cinderheart faced him warily. “What is it?”
For a moment Jayfeather stood in silence, not sure where to begin. Get on with it! he told himself. You started this, so you’d better finish it. “It will be easier if I show you,” he mewed aloud. “Come with me.”
He set off with Cinderheart padding at his shoulder. Jayfeather pictured in his head the old ThunderClan camp, with the former cats leading their busy everyday lives. Gradually as they passed through the trees the old forest took shape around them. A stream appeared, splashing beneath arching fronds of bracken, and a jay swooped out of the branches of an oak tree. Jayfeather heard a gasp from Cinderheart as she realized that she had somehow left the territory of her dream and was on unfamiliar ground.
A patrol flashed through the undergrowth a couple of fox-lengths away; Jayfeather recognized younger versions of Firestar, Graystripe, and Sandstorm. Turning to follow, he saw them halt at the foot of a tree where a young gray she-cat was gathering celandine.
“Picking flowers again?” Sandstorm teased.
The young she-cat flicked her tail. “Flowers and leaves,” she replied, unruffled, though her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Do you have a problem with that, Sandstorm? Because if you do, you’d better take it up with Yellowfang.”
Sandstorm took a pace back, shaking her head. “Anything but that!” she yelped in mock alarm.
“Yeah, she doesn’t want to get her ears clawed,” Graystripe meowed.
“Why don’t we keep on hunting?” Firestar suggested. “Maybe we’ll catch something good and fat for Yellowfang to put her in a good mood for once. You’re doing a great job,” he added to the gray she-cat as he led the patrol away.
“Make it a squirrel!” the she-cat called after them. “That’s Yellowfang’s favorite at the moment!”
Jayfeather was aware of Cinderheart standing beside him, her pelt bristling as she stared in astonishment. “That… that’s me,” she stammered. “I mean, it’s not, but it looks just like me.”
“No, it’s not you,” Jayfeather responded. “At least, not then.”
Cinderheart shot him a baffled look, but said no more.
When she had collected enough celandine, Cinderpelt picked up the bundle in her jaws and headed off, limping heavily. Jayfeather and Cinderheart followed. The medicine cat apprentice wove her way confidently through the undergrowth until she came to the head of the ravine that led down to the camp.
“Does she know we’re following her?” Cinderheart whispered.
Jayfeather shook his head. “She can’t see us. We aren’t really here.”
Cinderpelt padded down the ravine and vanished into the gorse tunnel. Jayfeather and Cinderheart followed and soon they emerged into the old ThunderClan camp. Jayfeather’s gaze swept the clearing, taking in the dens, the fresh-kill pile, and the Highrock where the Clan leader’s den was. Not Firestar, Jayfeather reminded himself. He’s not Clan leader yet.
“This is so weird…” Cinderheart murmured.
They padded behind Cinderpelt as she carried her bundle of herbs through the ferns and into the medicine cat’s den. Yellowfang sat in the smaller clearing, looking just as scrawny and ungroomed as she did whenever Jayfeather met her in StarClan.
“That’s a good bundle,” Yellowfang praised her apprentice gruffly, trudging over to sniff the celandine. “Some of the leaves are a bit wilted, though.”
“They’ll be fine if we use those first,” Cinderpelt pointed out.
Yellowfang snorted. “All right. Put them away and then come over here.”
While Cinderpelt stowed the celandine in a cleft in the rock at the back of the den, Yellowfang padded over to a clump of ferns a couple of tail-lengths away. For the first time Jayfeather saw that a large white tom was sitting among the ferns, his fur rumpled and a look of pain in his eyes.
“Whitestorm had an argument with a bramble thicket,” Yellowfang rasped as Cinderpelt returned. “He has a thorn in his paw. What do you think we should do for him?”
“Advise him to stay away from brambles,” Cinderpelt meowed, provoking a snort of amusement from the white tom. “But for now, we need to get the thorn out, tell him to give the paw a good lick, and rub it with marigold to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
“Quite right.” Yellowfang gave a nod of satisfaction.
“I have a good mentor!” Cinderpelt responded, warmth in her blue eyes.
Yellowfang gave her an affectionate nudge, but all she said was, “Better get on with it, then.”
“Whoever she is, she’s a great medicine cat,” Cinderheart commented, as Cinderpelt bent her head over Whitestorm’s paw and swiftly extracted the thorn with her teeth.
“Yes, she was,” Jayfeather agreed.
“Did you know her?” Cinderheart asked curiously, her gaze still fixed on the gray cat.
“Not then. This was before ThunderClan came to the lake.”
Cinderheart turned to gaze at him, her eyes as big as moons. “So this is ThunderClan in the past? Is that why Firestar and the others look so much younger? But how… why…?”