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“Here he comes now.” Cinderpelt twitched her ears to where Barkface was approaching with his head bowed and his tail trailing.
“How is Tallstar?” Littlecloud demanded.
Barkface heaved a sigh from the depths of his belly as he flopped down under the brambles beside the other medicine cats. “Sleeping,” he replied. “He is very weak. The journey has been too much for him, and it is clear that StarClan is waiting for him to join them.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Leafpaw meowed.
Barkface shook his head. “We may have travelled all the way from the forest, but Tallstar has a longer journey than all of us ahead of him. He has been a noble leader, but he cannot go on forever.”
“All the Clans will honour him,” Cinderpelt murmured. She bowed her head for a moment and then straightened up, giving her fur a shake. “Meanwhile there are tasks that we must do.”
“We need to look for herbs,” Mothwing meowed. “Disease could spread easily when we’re all tired and hungry.”
“True,” replied Cinderpelt. “Soon we’ll go and search, and hope that StarClan leads us to what we need. But before that.. . .” Her voice trailed off, and she scratched at the ground with her forepaw before she went on. “There may be a patrol out looking for new camps for each Clan, but we need more than that if this is to be our home. Where are the Clans going to gather at full moon? What about the Moon stone? It’s many days’ journey from here to Mothermouth.”
Leafpaw’s paws ached at the thought of retracing her steps along all the weary paths they had followed since they left Highstones. Surely it would be impossible to travel there every half moon to meet with StarClan? But where would new leaders go now to receive their names and their nine lives?
There was a long pause. None of the cats had the answer—or knew where to suggest looking.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Littlecloud mewed at last. “Without the Moonstone, the only way we can reach StarClan is through dreams and signs, and I’ve seen nothing to reassure me that this is where we are supposed to be.”
“It must be right,” Leafpaw pleaded. She struggled to think how she could make the other medicine cats believe her, when they were so much more experienced than she was. “Stoneteller met with his Tribe’s warrior ancestors in the Cave of Pointed Stones,” she added, remembering their visit to the Tribe of Rushing Water. “So maybe there are other places like the Moonstone.”
“I believe that StarClan sent us a sign when we saw their reflections shining in the lake,” Cinderpelt mewed, and Leafpaw felt the fur on her shoulders lie down in her relief. “But we still need a place where we can share tongues with them.”
“Maybe they’ll send us a sign to tell us where we can find another Moonstone,” Barkface suggested.
“Maybe.” Littlecloud sounded dubious. “I just hope it’s soon, that’s all.”
“But does it really matter?” Mothwing asked. “I mean, there’s nothing to stop us from finding the right herbs, and. . .”
Her voice died away as the other medicine cats stared at her in astonishment. Leafpaw winced; how could Mothwing believe that the only task of a medicine cat was to heal?
Mothwing’s gaze flicked from one cat to the next, uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes.
“Mothwing means we can carry on looking after our Clanmates while we wait for StarClan to speak to us,” Leafpaw meowed helpfully.
Mothwing turned to her in relief. “Yes—yes, that’s right.”
Cinderpelt’s ears twitched.
“I suppose we could start restocking our supplies,” meowed Littlecloud.
Barkface heaved himself to his paws. “If you don’t mind, I ought to stay with Tallstar. But I’d be grateful for some coltsfoot, if you can find it. He’s having trouble breathing.”
“There’ll be no coltsfoot leaves until newleaf,” Mothwing pointed out anxiously. “Would juniper berries do as well?”
Barkface nodded. “Quite right. Thanks, Mothwing.”
“We’ll bring you some,” Cinderpelt promised.
With a brief grunt of thanks, Barkface padded to the clump of grass where Tallstar lay, an unmoving heap of black and white fur. Leafpaw saw him exchange a word or two with Onewhisker, who was keeping vigil beside his dying leader. Then he settled down with his flank touching Tallstar’s, letting the old cat know that he would not be alone as he began his long, dark journey.
“Well done, Mothwing!” Leafpaw mewed. “I didn’t think of using juniper berries instead.”
Mothwing turned her head to give Leafpaw’s ear a quick lick. “Where shall we go first?”
Cinderpelt stood up stiffly, favouring the leg she had injured long ago on the Thunderpath. “If we go that way,” she began, gesturing with her tail, “we’ll end up in the Twoleg horseplace. I think we should head the opposite way, closer to the lake.”
“Firestar says it’s boggy there,” Leafpaw reminded her.
“There’s all sorts of good stuff growing in bogs,” meowed Mothwing. She gave Leafpaw a gentle flick around the ear with her tail. “If you were a RiverClan cat, you wouldn’t mind getting your paws wet!”
“And I wouldn’t mind catching a frog or a toad to eat,” mewed Littlecloud. When the other cats glanced at him in surprise, he added defensively, “They don’t taste that bad! There were always plenty in ShadowClan’s territory, even when the rest of the prey was scarce.”
As they drew nearer to the lake the tough moorland grass gave way to sedge and moss. The ground was spongy, and water oozed up around Leafpaw’s paws at every step.
“I hope it’s not all like this,” she muttered to herself, pausing to shake droplets of water from each paw. Looking ahead, she saw that although this stretch of marshland reached right down to the lake, trees were growing on the bank further around, and in the distance a wooded tongue of land stretched out into the water. That might be a good place for a camp, she thought.
She broke into a run to catch up the others, and found them standing beside a large clump of horsetail; further away were more clumps of the big, healthy plants. Leafpaw’s spirits rose.
“This is excellent,” Cinderpelt meowed. “It never grew as well as this in our old territory. We’ll collect some on our way back. Leafpaw, what is it used for?”
Leafpaw wasn’t sure she liked being questioned in front of the other medicine cats as if she had barely started her training, but at least she knew the answer. “Infected wounds,” she answered promptly.
“That’s right,” meowed Littlecloud. “And we’re going to need it. The cats have picked up all kinds of scratches and scrapes on the journey.”
Cinderpelt nodded. “We must remember where to find it.”
She set off again, and the other cats followed. Leafpaw was pleased when she was the first to spot a clump of water mint, one of the best cures for bellyache.
“But we’re never going to find Barkface’s juniper berries down here,” Mothwing pointed out, leaping over a tiny stream. “It’s much too wet.”
“Why don’t you and Leafpaw head away from the shore?” Cinderpelt suggested. “I can see bushes over there. Some of them might be juniper.”
“Sure.” Mothwing swerved away from the water, heading towards the ridge they had crossed on the previous night. Leafpaw followed close behind, relieved to feel drier, harder ground under her paws.
When they reached the higher ground, they pushed their way into a sheltered thicket of trees. Leafpaw quickly recognised the spiky dark leaves and purple berries of juniper bushes among the undergrowth.
“Just what we need,” she mewed happily, beginning to bite off some of the stems.
When they had collected as much juniper as they could carry, they turned back towards the lake. Emerging from the trees, Leafpaw spotted the tiny, indistinct figures of Cinderpelt and Littlecloud in the distance, following the water’s edge. From up here, she realised that what she had thought was a wooded spur of land stretching out into the lake was actually an island, separated from the shore by a narrow channel of water.
“Look!” she meowed to Mothwing. “There’s an island in the lake.”
The young medicine cat’s eyes shone. “That would make a great place for a Gathering!” she exclaimed. “It’s big enough for all the Clans, and nothing would disturb us there. Let’s go down and tell the others.” Snatching up her collection of juniper stems, she bounded off towards Cinderpelt and Little cloud.
Leafpaw picked up her own stems and followed more slowly. Mothwing hadn’t given her the chance to point out that only RiverClan cats felt confident about swimming, and none of the other Clans would be able to reach the island. It was a pity, because Mothwing was right: the island would be a perfect place for all the Clans to meet, safe from predators and Twolegs.
When she reached the others, Mothwing was excitedly telling them about the island. All four cats padded down to the edge of the lake to have a closer look. The ground was drier here, falling away into a rocky shore with a few tough thorns rooted in cracks.
“It looks safe enough,” meowed Cinderpelt, “but how would we get there? Do you fancy telling the elders that they have to swim every time they want to go to a Gathering?”
Littlecloud gave a snort of amusement, and Mothwing looked wounded.
“Maybe it’s shallow enough to wade,” Leafpaw suggested diplomatically, though she wasn’t keen on finding out.
“I could swim over there and have a look,” Mothwing offered.
Cinderpelt nodded. “If you want to.”
Mothwing didn’t need any more encouragement to launch herself down the rocks towards the water.
“Be careful!” Leafpaw called after her.
Her friend waved her tail in acknowledgment before wading out into the lake. Soon the water reached her belly fur and she had to swim, pushing through the water with strong, confident strokes. So it wasn’t possible to wade all the way to the island, Leafpaw thought. She narrowed her eyes against the sunlight reflected in the water as she tracked the small dark head bobbing through the waves.
Behind her Littlecloud meowed, “Why don’t we hunt while we’re waiting? I’m so hungry I could eat a badger!”
His words made Leafpaw conscious of her own grumbling belly, but she did not move until she had seen Mothwing reach the shore of the island; she pulled herself out of the water and waved her tail cheerfully at Leafpaw before vanishing among the bushes.
Leafpaw turned away just in time to see Littlecloud pounce on a vole and crouch down to devour it in swift bites. She couldn’t help feeling relieved that he hadn’t found a frog or a toad after all, in case he had offered her some. It would have been rude to say no, but Leafpaw didn’t think she was quite hungry enough to eat something that looked so tough and unappetizing.
A little way off, Cinderpelt was stalking something in the long grass that grew at the foot of the rocks. A heartbeat later she made her kill and beckoned to Leafpaw with her tail. “Come on. Mothwing will be fine. There’s plenty of prey over there.”
Leafpaw cast another glance back at the island, but there was no sign of the RiverClan medicine cat, and nothing Leafpaw could do to help her. Padding softly up to the nearest tumble of rocks, she heard the scuffling of a tiny creature and froze. A grass stem twitched aside to reveal another vole scrabbling among the fallen seeds underneath. Leafpaw crept forward, hardly lifting her paws from the rough ground. Once she was in range she leaped, and dispatched her prey with one swift bite to the neck.
Leafpaw couldn’t remember when she had last seen such a plump vole. The prey that remained in the forest after the Twolegs started to tear it up had been scrawny and terrified, and opportunities for hunting on the journey here had been limited.
She was just finishing the last, satisfying bite when Littlecloud called, “Mothwing’s coming back!”
Leafpaw swallowed her mouthful and dashed down to the water’s edge. Mothwing was swimming strongly towards the shore, and soon she waded out to stand on dry ground and shake the water from her pelt.
“Well?” Cinderpelt demanded. “What did you find?”
Mothwing let out a gusty sigh. “It’s perfect! Trees and bushes grow all around the edge, but in the middle there’s an open stretch of grass. There’d be room for all the Clans to gather there.”
Littlecloud shook his head. “RiverClan maybe, but you’d never get the other three Clans to join you.” His tone was worried as he added, “Some cats with more courage than sense would drown if they tried.”
“And right in the middle of the open space,” Mothwing went on enthusiastically, as if Littlecloud hadn’t spoken, “there’s this huge oak tree. As big as the oaks at Fourtrees, but it has low-growing branches, so the leaders could climb up there to address the Clans.” Her blue eyes shone. “I wish we could use it!”
“Well, we can’t,” Cinderpelt said regretfully. “Although you’re right, Mothwing; it sounds ideal. Thanks for checking it out.”
“There’s prey, too.” Mothwing swiped her tongue over her jaws.
Leafpaw wanted to ask Mothwing if she had noticed anything unusual about the island, like a strange-shaped rock or a twisted tree, anything that would suggest the presence of StarClan. Perhaps the island wasn’t meant for Gatherings, but there might be a new Moonstone there.
But once it was clear that the other medicine cats wouldn’t agree that the island could be used for Gatherings, Mothwing had turned away. She was padding up the beach with her tail drooping, tired out from her swim. Leafpaw decided she would ask her another time about the possibility of a Moonstone on the island.
The rest of the medicine cats began to make their way back to the temporary camp as well. Leafpaw followed last of all, with a regretful glance over her shoulder at the island. The Clans needed a place to gather and a new Moonstone as much as they needed safe, sheltered camps with plenty of prey. The gathering place and the Moonstone would be the home of the fifth Clan that had been forced to leave the forest—StarClan.
Leafpaw shivered, even though reeds sheltered her from the cold breeze coming off the lake. Unless they found these places quickly, the Clans’ future in their new territory was filled with shadows of doubt.
CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_aa4d1359-3f29-57a1-a7ef-135b534223b5)
Mistyfoot led the patrol across the marshy shore at a steady trot. Brambleclaw breathed deeply, tasting the prey-scented air and basking in the warmth of the pale winter sun on his fur. His paws itched to bound ahead, but he forced himself to keep to the pace Mistyfoot had set, knowing they had a long way to go.
“This is no good,” Squirrelflight grumbled as she slipped into yet another boggy hollow. She stopped and flicked water from her hindpaw with a disgusted expression on her face. “We’ll all end up with webbed feet if we live here.”
“It might not be so bad for RiverClan,” Mistyfoot replied. “But there won’t be much prey on ground like this, so it wouldn’t be much use.”
“We don’t have to use all the territory around the lake,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “There’s plenty of space, so it doesn’t matter if no cat wants this bit.”
“As long as there’s something better up ahead,” Crowfeather added.
Brambleclaw paused to scan the land around them. On one side the land rose steeply to a ridge of hills. The Twoleg fence and the horses were behind them now, and beyond that the grassland sloped up until it vanished beneath a thick growth of gorse and other bushes. Ahead, the swampy ground stretched along the lakeshore. In the distance Brambleclaw could see a wooded spur of ground jutting out into the lake, and more trees right ahead.
“It looks as if we’ll be out of the marshes soon,” he meowed.
“Can’t we climb the hill, Brambleclaw?” Squirrelflight asked. “Please. I’m sick of wet feet.”
“There’ll be prey up there, too,” Tawnypelt mewed longingly. “What do you say, Brambleclaw? We need to hunt.”
“We’re supposed to be patrolling the lake,” Brambleclaw replied.
“And the territory around it,” Crowfeather reminded him.
“I suppose we could make a few forays away from the lake,” Brambleclaw meowed thoughtfully. “We won’t learn much if we stick to the shore the whole time. Let’s start by heading up to the ridge. We’ll hunt on the way, and—”
A quiet cough interrupted him, and Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle as he met Mistyfoot’s level stare. “S-sorry, Mistyfoot,” he stammered. “I mean, if that’s OK with you.”
Amusement glimmered in the RiverClan deputy’s eyes. “Look, Brambleclaw, maybe it’s best if you lead. These cats are obviously used to taking orders from you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Brambleclaw felt even more embarrassed. “We discussed things, mostly, when we were on our journey.”
“He means we argued,” Tawnypelt meowed dryly. “At least, some of us argued.” She gave a hard look at Squirrelflight and Crowfeather.
“What, us?” Squirrelflight’s eyes opened wide and her tail curled up. “Never!”
Stifling a mrrow of laughter, Brambleclaw led the way up the slope to the drier ground. He thanked StarClan that Mistyfoot understood that they had fallen into a habit of organising themselves on their journey, without the typical Clan hierarchy of leaders and deputies and senior warriors. It felt good to be travelling with his friends again, though he felt Stormfur’s absence like a thorn pricking his flank. He wondered what it would be like when the Clans separated and he lost his easy friendship with Crowfeather and Tawnypelt. Would the empty place inside him go on growing forever?
There was prey among the bushes further up the slope, and it did not take long for all five cats to hunt successfully and settle down to a good meal.
“Mmm . . .” Squirrelflight murmured, lying on her side and splaying out her paws in a luxurious stretch. “That was the tastiest mouse I’ve eaten in moons. Now I could do with a good, long sleep.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Brambleclaw prodded her with his paw. “We’ve got a long way to go, and we need to get as far around the lake as we can in daylight.”
“All right, keep your fur on.” Squirrelflight scrambled up, her green eyes teasing. “You’re such a bossy old furball. Don’t forget I’m a warrior now!” She whisked around him, flicking him with her tail.
