Whitewing had paused, gazing through the trees at Jayfeather. “He shouldn’t be out by himself,” she murmured. “Ivypool, go see if he needs any help.”
Ivypool hesitated. She didn’t want to be alone with Jayfeather; she knew he had been waiting for the chance to interrogate her about the Dark Forest.
“Go on!” Whitewing flicked her tail toward Jayfeather. “He might be a bit moody, but you know he’ll be glad to have your help.”
And hedgehogs might fly! Ivypool thought as she padded after the medicine cat.
“Good luck!” Dovewing whispered after her.
Ivypool quickened her pace, following Jayfeather’s thin tabby shape as he rounded a patch of nettles. “Hi,” she meowed as she caught up to him. “Whitewing sent me to see if you need any help.”
Jayfeather twitched one ear as if a fly had landed on it. “No,” he replied curtly.
Great! I can get back to moss collecting! But then Ivypool realized that Whitewing would never let her get away with that. “At least let me tag along,” she persisted. “Or I’ll just be sent straight back to you.”
Jayfeather shrugged. “Okay. But don’t even think of trying to guide me. I was finding my way through this forest before you were kitted. I’m just going to collect some marigold leaves from the top of the hollow,” he added as Ivypool fell in beside him. “There are some good clumps on the slope above the highest part of the cliff, where the trees have thinned out and sunlight reaches the ground.”
Ivypool was surprised that the medicine cat could describe the spot so well when he had never seen it. She padded beside him over rough ground along the curve of the cliff, where stones poked out of the earth and roots snaked out as if trying to trip them. Soon they reached the edge, and Ivypool looked down into the hollow. She shuddered as she remembered her vision of blood and fighting cats, and wondered again if it had been an omen of the destruction of her Clan.
Then Jayfeather swung away from the cliff top and followed a steeper trail that led through dense brambles. Ivypool had to press herself close to the ground to avoid the tendrils that reached out over the path. She was so busy concentrating on crouching down that she almost bumped into Jayfeather’s hindquarters when he halted with a hiss of disgust.
Ivypool realized that the medicine cat was caught on a bramble tendril, the thorns snagged in his pelt. She reached out a paw to pull the stem off, then stopped herself. He’d claw me worse than the brambles if I tried to help him!
Awkwardly Jayfeather lifted one paw and groped for the end of the bramble, muttering under his breath. After a moment he managed to free himself, though there was a tuft of tabby fur left on the thorns as he crept forward again. When another tendril raked its thorns along his side, he didn’t even pause, just pulled himself away and went on.
Ivypool was glad when they emerged into a small clearing. She flexed her muscles, letting the hot sun soak into her fur, and her jaws watered at the strong smell of rabbits.
“This is the place,” Jayfeather meowed, “but I can’t smell any marigold with this reek of rabbit.”
Padding farther into the clearing, Ivypool looked around for the plants. But all she could see were clumps of nibbled stalks and a scattering of leaves, already shriveling in the sun.
“Oh, no!” she hissed.
“What’s the matter?” Jayfeather demanded.
“There’s no marigold here,” Ivypool told him. “Something has eaten it all. It must have been the rabbits—I can see their droppings here, too.”
Jayfeather was already stalking up to the ruined plants, thrusting his nose deep into the remains of the clumps and sniffing at the hard, dark droppings. “This is a disaster,” he spat. “I’ve tried to grow marigold with my other plants beside the old Twoleg nest, but they only grow well up here in the sun.”
Ivypool walked slowly around the clearing in case there were any plants the rabbits had missed. She couldn’t see any, but suddenly the scent of marigold, strong and sweet, wafted over her. She halted, puzzled.
That smells like a lot of plants. So why can’t I see them?
With her jaws parted to taste the air, Ivypool followed the scent. It led to a beech tree at the edge of the clearing; the scent was pouring down from the branches.
“Plants growing in a tree?” she murmured. “That’s mouse-brained!”
But Ivypool couldn’t deny what her nose was telling her. Still confused, she scrambled up the tree until she reached the first branch. Crouching there, claws digging into the bark, she stared at the shallow hollow formed where the branch joined the trunk. It was filled with rainwater, and several marigold plants had been placed there, with their roots in the water so that they stayed fresh and alive.
“Jayfeather!” she called excitedly. “I’ve found marigold!”
Jayfeather looked around as if he couldn’t figure out where her voice was coming from, then bounded over to the foot of her tree. “Plants up a tree?” His voice was sharp with annoyance. “If this is a joke, I’ll—”
“It’s not a joke,” Ivypool assured him, describing the scoop of water with the plants carefully arranged there. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever come across,” Jayfeather went on, as Ivypool picked up the plants one by one and dropped them to the ground. “How in the name of StarClan did they get up there?”
“Maybe the rabbits carried them up to keep them for later?” Ivypool guessed.
“When have you ever seen a rabbit climbing a tree?” Jayfeather asked in a scathing voice, making a bundle of the plants by his front paws. “Squirrels hoard nuts,” he added thoughtfully. “Maybe this is one of their stores.”
When have you ever seen a squirrel eating marigold? Ivypool didn’t dare ask the question aloud. “It’s a mystery,” she meowed, dropping the last plant and scrambling back down the tree.
Jayfeather divided the marigold plants into two bunches so he and Ivypool could carry them back to camp. Then he padded across the clearing and took a final sniff of the ruined patch. “We ought to find a way to protect the plants so that they’ll grow back,” he mumbled around his mouthful.
Ivypool wondered how they could do that. Building a thorn barrier around the patch would be a huge task, and anyway it wouldn’t be much good to keep rabbits out. They hardly stayed away from the wood just because there were bramble thickets in the way.
“Maybe we could bring the scent of fox up here,” she suggested. “That would scare the rabbits away.”
“How?” Jayfeather asked, his tone suggesting it was a mouse-brained idea.
Ivypool thought for a moment. “We could use fox dung… it would be yucky getting it here, but it might work.”
“And how would you get it?” Jayfeather mewed. “Just stroll up to a fox and say, ‘Please make some dirt for me?’ I don’t think so.”
Ivypool rolled her eyes. Jayfeather might be our medicine cat, but he’s such a mouse-brain sometimes. “Old dung,” she responded. “You didn’t think I’d march into a fox’s den to get it fresh, did you?” She said the last part under her breath. It was pointless trying to argue with Jayfeather—somehow he always won.