“You don’t need to worry about that,” Jayfeather reassured her. “Just keep watching. That medicine cat apprentice is called Cinderpelt.” He felt a pulse of shock run through Cinderheart as she heard the name that was so like her own, but she didn’t interrupt him. “She wanted to be a warrior just like you,” he continued, “but she was injured before she finished her training. Did you notice that she limps? Her leg will never heal properly. She knew she would never be able to keep up with patrols, so she became a medicine cat instead. She taught Leafpool, you know.”
“Wow…” Cinderheart breathed. “I’ve heard about her. Didn’t she die saving my mother?”
“Her death meant more than that,” Jayfeather replied, though he didn’t explain any further. She’ll find out soon enough.
While they were speaking, white mist drifted out of the ferns, wreathing around them until it blotted out the medicine cats’ den.
“What’s happening?” Cinderheart whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Jayfeather repeated. “Just wait.”
After a few heartbeats the mist cleared. The two cats were standing on a hillside, where rough moorland grass swept upward to huge peaks of gray stone. A long line of cats was trekking across it, their fur buffeted by the wind. Cats from all four Clans—long-legged WindClan, broad-shouldered ThunderClan, sleek-furred RiverClan, and lean ShadowClan—walked side by side, talking quietly.
“It’s the Great Journey!” Cinderheart exclaimed. “They’re heading for the mountains. Jayfeather, why are you showing me this?”
“You’ll find out,” Jayfeather promised. “Look, there’s Cinderpelt again. She’s the only medicine cat in ThunderClan now.”
Padding closer, Jayfeather saw that Mousefur—a younger, stronger Mousefur, before she retired to the elders’ den—was talking to Cinderpelt.
“My paws hurt,” she was complaining. “It’s walking over all these sharp stones that does it. It’s not natural for cats.”
“I’m sure we’ll rest soon,” Cinderpelt replied sympathetically. “When we do, I’ll bring you some dock leaves to rub on your pads. You’ll find that helps a lot.”
Mousefur gave her a brusque nod and limped on. Heartbeats later, a mottled brown kit bounced up to Cinderpelt and announced, “I’ve got burrs in my fur!”
That must be Applefur, Jayfeather thought, recognizing a tiny version of the ShadowClan warrior.
“Oh, it’s Applekit!” Cinderpelt yelped with mock astonishment. “I thought for a heartbeat there was a giant burr chasing me. Never mind. When we stop, I’ll help you untangle them. Until then, watch where you’re putting your paws.”
“Thank you!” Applekit charged off toward her littermates.
Not watching out at all, Jayfeather thought, unsurprised.
Cinderpelt watched the kit go, her head tilted and amusement glimmering in her blue eyes, then returned to the weary toil up the slope. As the cats drew closer to the cliff face, a few snowflakes began to drift down. A wind rose, and soon they were struggling through a blizzard. Jayfeather lost sight of the other cats, and could barely make out Cinderheart fighting her way forward against the wind.
“Over here!” Jayfeather recognized Firestar’s voice. “Every cat shelter under the cliff!”
Together Jayfeather and Cinderheart huddled together in the lee of the gray rocks, at the edge of their Clanmates. The whole world seemed to be full of whirling white flakes. Even the sound of the other cats was lost in the whining of the wind.
Suddenly everything was quiet. The falling snow died away and seemed to melt into the earth. Abruptly the air grew warmer. Jayfeather looked around and realized that he and Cinderheart were back in the stone hollow, crouched against the thorn barrier.
“Oh!” Cinderheart sighed, disappointment in her voice. “Are we back home already?”
“Not quite,” Jayfeather warned.
His words were hardly out when darkness fell over the clearing. Jayfeather heard a grumbling roar growing closer through the trees. Along with it came the sound of trampling, as if twigs were breaking under heavy paws.
“What is it?” Cinderheart gasped.
Before Jayfeather could reply the thorns beside them gave way and badgers erupted into the camp. Warriors surged out of their den to meet them: Jayfeather spotted Squirrelflight hurling herself at one of the leading badgers, with Brambleclaw and Cloudtail just behind her. Firestar let out a yowl of defiance as he plunged into the fight with Dustpelt, Sandstorm, and Thornclaw. Spiderleg and Ashfur were attacking one of the huge creatures together, darting in from both sides to confuse it.
Cinderheart let out a screech of terror. “Jayfeather! What’s happening?”
“It’s okay,” Jayfeather reassured her, thrusting her to one side. “They can’t hurt us.” At least, I hope they can’t.
A horror-struck shriek sounded from the nursery, rising above the clamor from the fighting cats.
“I’m so sorry,” Jayfeather murmured to Cinderheart. “There’s one more thing you have to see. Follow me.”
He led the way across the clearing to the nursery, slipping between the battling shapes that appeared without warning out of the darkness. Squirrelflight lay panting across the entrance, wounded but still guarding the nursery from attack. Jayfeather and Cinderheart passed straight through, somehow without disturbing her.
The nursery was crowded. At the far side, Sorreltail was lying in a mossy nest, her belly heaving as she struggled to give birth. Cinderpelt crouched beside her, gently stroking her belly with one paw. But a badger loomed over both of them, its jaws parted in a threatening snarl. As it raised a paw to swipe at Sorreltail, Cinderpelt turned and sprang between them. The badger’s claws slashed down her side; blood welled out as she collapsed.
“Oh, no—no!” Cinderheart whispered.
Jayfeather was vaguely aware of Leafpool and Crowfeather bursting into the den and attacking the badger, driving it out into the clearing. All his attention was fixed on Cinderpelt. Blood still gushed from her side; she was struggling to breathe, and as Leafpool returned she managed to gasp out a few words before her eyes closed and she went limp.
Behind her in the nest, a tiny kit gave its first thin cry.
Cinderheart’s eyes were wide with horror. “She can’t be dead,” she breathed. “Jayfeather, tell me she’ll be okay.”
“Look at the kit,” was all that Jayfeather said.
Sorreltail was licking the newborn kit with strong, rasping strokes of her tongue. Its gray fur stuck up in tiny spikes. Its delicate nose, the shape of its head, the set of its stubby tail were all echoed in the cat that stood beside Jayfeather.
“That’s me,” Cinderheart murmured in amazement. “That’s how I was born.”
“Yes,” Jayfeather mewed.
Cinderheart turned stricken eyes on him. “Then Cinderpelt gave her life to save mine.”
“Not exactly.” Jayfeather tensed.
Cinderheart blinked in confusion. “But you said she died!”
“Only for a heartbeat,” Jayfeather replied. “And then she was given a whole new life.”
Cinderheart stared at him and he saw the moment when understanding flashed into her eyes. Her voice was scarcely audible, no more than a breath. “And that life was… me.”
Jayfeather nodded. A spiraling flock of emotions was chasing through Cinderheart’s eyes: horror, shock, pride, and then memories upon memories, thicker than falling leaves.
“I’m an apprentice… and Fireheart’s my mentor… he’s such a great teacher!” Cinderheart’s words were coming so fast that Jayfeather could hardly make them out. The she-cat’s flanks twitched as Cinderpelt’s long-buried memories surged through her like a river in full flood. “Hunting’s such fun… and fighting… I want to be the best warrior in the Clan!”