He sniffed doubtfully at the dried leaves in the first niche. Marigold, maybe?
At the same moment, Rootpaw heard stumbling paw steps as some cat entered the den. Turning, he saw Rabbitleap, and froze at the sight of his Clanmate’s chest and muzzle covered with blood.
Rabbitleap’s voice was surprisingly calm as he began, “Rootpaw, I need you to—”
Rootpaw didn’t hear anything else as panic swept over him. I need to take care of him, but what am I supposed to do? “Frecklewish! Fidgetflake!” he yowled. “Help!”
Frecklewish immediately slipped back into the den. “He has a thorn in his paw, Rootpaw,” she explained. “I thought you would be able to cope with that.” She sighed. “Sit down, Rabbitleap.”
“But . . . the blood!” Rootpaw exclaimed as he watched Frecklewish lick Rabbitleap’s paw until she could grip the shank of the thorn in her teeth and draw it out.
“I’m sorry, Rootpaw,” Rabbitleap mewed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just caught a squirrel, and I didn’t realize how much of the blood is still on my fur.”
Every hair on Rootpaw’s pelt grew hot with embarrassment. What kind of medicine cat freezes at the sight of blood?
“Don’t worry, Rootpaw,” Frecklewish reassured him. “Rabbitleap was only your first patient. It’ll get easier as you learn more.” She gave Rabbitleap’s paw one final swipe with her tongue. “There. You’ll be fine, Rabbitleap, but stay off that paw for the rest of today. And don’t go treading on any more thorns!”
Rabbitleap ducked his head. “Thanks, Frecklewish. I was so keen to catch that big squirrel that I didn’t have time to look where I was putting my paws.” He smoothed his whiskers with one forepaw. “But I’m proud that I brought back such a good addition to the fresh-kill pile.”
Rootpaw struggled with a sudden stab of jealousy. I miss hunting for my Clan so much!
As Rabbitleap left the den, Fidgetflake returned from his task of spreading out the herbs and began testing Rootpaw once again on what he had learned. Rootpaw did his best to concentrate, but he was thankful for another interruption as Puddleshine, the ShadowClan medicine cat, appeared at the entrance to the den, escorted by Plumwillow.
“My patrol found Puddleshine at the edge of the camp,” Plumwillow explained. “He says he’s looking for Rootpaw.”
As soon as Plumwillow spoke, Rootpaw remembered that today there was a meeting of the rebel cats. I almost forgot! And it will be harder to sneak out now that I’m a medicine-cat apprentice.
Fidgetflake gave Puddleshine a curious look. “Why do you want our new medicine-cat apprentice?” he asked.
Puddleshine looked flustered, giving his chest fur a couple of awkward licks. “I . . . er . . . oh. Well.” Rootpaw shot the medicine cat an apologetic look. Clearly my new role is news to him.
But Puddleshine stood up straight, recovering. “Actually . . . I want to consult him about a sick cat in ShadowClan.”
“What?” Fidgetflake sounded confused. “Why would ShadowClan’s medicine cat want help from Rootpaw? He isn’t even officially an apprentice yet.”
Puddleshine didn’t have an answer to that, and Rootpaw couldn’t think of any better excuse. Fortunately, Frecklewish came to their rescue.
“I expect he wants to help Rootpaw get more experience,” she mewed smoothly. “Puddleshine, suppose I come to help you, and Rootpaw can come with us so he can learn. Fidgetflake, you can take care of any emergencies in SkyClan while we’re away.”
Fidgetflake still looked puzzled, but he didn’t object, and retreated toward the herb stores, shaking his head as he went.
Frecklewish took the lead as she and Rootpaw left the camp with Puddleshine, heading toward SkyClan territory.
“Has there been any sign of Shadowsight?” she asked Puddleshine.
The ShadowClan medicine cat let out a long sigh. “No cat seems to know anything,” he replied sadly. “We’re all worried about him.”
Rootpaw felt sickness rising in his belly as he thought about the friendly young medicine cat and all the terrible things that might have happened to him. It still pained him to wonder whether a cat could have hurt Shadowsight. In the past, it would never have occurred to him that any warrior would attack a medicine cat, but everything was so different now. And he didn’t believe Shadowsight would have left the Clans on his own. Puddleshine seemed really concerned for his former apprentice, but what if he wasn’t the kind cat that he appeared to be?
What if he knows something he’s not telling us?
“Do you know anything you haven’t told us about Shadowsight?” Rootpaw asked Puddleshine, not caring that he was a lowly apprentice making blunt demands of an experienced medicine cat. I’m worried about Shadowsight, so who cares what Puddleshine thinks? “Perhaps we should have looked harder for him before we went to the Moonpool . . . if there was no reason for him to leave.”
Puddleshine didn’t seem offended at Rootpaw’s abrupt words. “We did look around,” he replied. “But when we didn’t find him, I thought he had gone on ahead.” He heaved another deep sigh. “Shadowsight has always been an unusual cat . . . a special cat. At first I hoped he had just wandered off and would be back soon, but that seems less and less likely now.” He gave his tail a single lash, and his voice was unsteady as he went on. “You might blame me for not doing more, but you can’t blame me more than I blame myself. I shouldn’t have left him alone. And I should have given him better support when he was . . . when he was here.”
Hearing the pause, Rootpaw realized that Puddleshine believed Shadowsight was probably dead. His suspicions of the medicine cat faded; hearing him now, no cat could doubt that Puddleshine was truly upset.
But is he right? Rootpaw wondered. Is Shadowsight dead?
It was terrible, but Rootpaw kept coming back to the dreadful possibility that another cat had killed Shadowsight. And the obvious culprit was the false Bramblestar. Rootpaw believed that the false Bramblestar had tried to kill Sparkpelt by having her attacked by dogs, because she had defied him. Shadowsight was the cat who had received the codebreaker visions, and so he supported the impostor’s efforts, but recently he had begun to back away from the idea of exile. Did Bramblestar believe that he could get his way more easily if Shadowsight wasn’t around?
Rootpaw shivered as if he had suddenly walked into a shower of icy rain. Would the fake Bramblestar really murder a medicine cat? And if he did, am I in danger too? What would he do if he discovered that I can see the real Bramblestar’s spirit?
Together the three cats padded on through the trees until they reached the ShadowClan camp. As soon as they pushed through the bushes and brambles at the top of the hollow, Rootpaw could see how many cats were crowded into the space, and how tense they were feeling.
Squirrelflight and Cloverfoot were both trying to assign cats to hunting patrols, and as Rootpaw padded closer he could hear how icily polite they were being to each other.
“Remember that the exiled cats can’t hunt near the borders,” Cloverfoot meowed. “There’s too much risk that they’ll be spotted.”
“Of course,” Squirrelflight replied through clenched teeth. She looked like she wanted to say, Tell me something I don’t know.
At the far side of the hollow, loud yowls of complaint were issuing from the warriors’ den.
“Get your paw out of my ear, you stupid furball!”
“You can’t put your nest there—that’s my space!”