Mothwing shook her head slowly. The threat beneath his words was unmistakable. She didn’t want to deceive any cat, yet what Hawkfrost said was true. Their place in the Clan depended on her now. She’d chosen this path, and she had no choice but to see it through—and there was only one way forward that would satisfy her brother without forcing her to lie. Hawkfrost was right. I have to believe in StarClan.
“Okay,” she said, the weight of responsibility falling on her shoulders.
“I’m not sure how much this will help, Loudbelly,” Mudfur said sadly. “The most we can do is ease your pain a little.”
It had been two days since the cloud had passed over the sun, and if Mudfur had decided it was a sign from StarClan, he hadn’t told Mothwing what it meant. Now Mudfur was carefully feeling along Loudbelly’s legs and hips, purring sympathetically as the dark brown elder groaned.
“I’m not expecting to jump like a kit again,” Loudbelly grumbled. “But anything that lets me walk across camp without falling over will be much appreciated.”
Mothwing gnawed at the comfrey root, trying not to swallow its bitterness. Finally, she spat out the chewed bits and pounded them into a poultice. “Should I put it on?” she asked shyly, but Mudfur shook his head.
“Not until you’re my apprentice,” he meowed. Mothwing backed away obediently as Mudfur began to smear the poultice in long, even strokes across Loudbelly’s hips. “This will ease your joints,” he told the elder.
As Mothwing stood beside Mudfur and watched him work, worry curled in her belly. Mudfur let her clean the medicine den and sort herbs, but he wouldn’t let her touch a patient. Not until StarClan gave him a sign.
What will happen if he never gets a sign? Would she grow old putting fresh moss in nests and chewing up herbs and never actually being a medicine cat, or even a medicine-cat apprentice? Or would he send her back to being a warrior? Would the rest of RiverClan even want her as a warrior, knowing her heart was in the medicine den?
The next morning, Mothwing huddled outside the warriors’ den, watching the sun rise. It was going to be another hot greenleaf day, but she felt cold. She hadn’t slept well, and when she’d finally dozed off, Hawkfrost had accidentally woken her as he came back from the dirtplace. She yawned, her mouth dry.
Would Mudfur even notice if I spent the whole day in my nest? Well, he’d notice, of course, but would it matter? The other warriors were starting to talk about her to one another in low voices—she’d felt their eyes on her when they didn’t think she was looking. They thought StarClan didn’t want her. It had been more than a moon. Maybe I should leave RiverClan, she thought grimly. If I’m not a medicine cat, I don’t belong here. Listening to the familiar, soothing rustle of the reeds outside camp, she felt hollow. I don’t want to go.
Looking up, she saw Mudfur outside the medicine den, his body taut with something—surprise? Expectation? He stared directly at her for a moment, and Mothwing lifted her chin in greeting, but he didn’t respond. Bending, he picked up something small from the ground in front of his paws and hurried over to Leopardstar’s den. Mistyfoot and Shadepelt, sitting near the fresh-kill pile, raised their heads in surprise as he passed.
A soft murmur of voices came from Leopardstar’s den, and then the leader poked her head out—she still looked sleepy, as if Mudfur had woken her—and called to Mistyfoot to join them.
Mothwing’s eyes met Shadepelt’s. The dark-furred elder looked just as confused as Mothwing was.
After a few moments, Leopardstar stepped out of her den and strode to the center of the clearing, Mistyfoot and Mudfur padding beside and a little behind her. “RiverClan!” she called. “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather to hear my words!”
A confused cacophony of voices came from the warriors’ den.
“What’s going on?” yowled Heavystep.
“It’s so early!” Mosspelt mewed.
“Is something wrong?” Blackclaw cried, and, one by one, the cats, stretching and blinking sleepily, streamed out of the den. Skyheart and Dawnflower poked their heads out of the nursery, Skyheart’s kits crowding around her legs curiously, while Swallowpaw hurried out of the apprentices’ den.
As Hawkfrost came out of the warriors’ den, Mothwing followed him, and they joined the others in a wide circle around Leopardstar. “Do you know what’s going on?” he asked, and she shook her head.
RiverClan quieted, looking at their leader expectantly. When the clearing was silent except for the rustling of the reeds and a jay crying overhead, Leopardstar spoke.
“StarClan has given Mudfur a sign.”
She gestured with her tail, and the medicine cat stepped forward. “I’ve been sure for a while that Mothwing is suited to become a medicine cat, even though she isn’t Clanborn. But we decided to wait for a sign from StarClan, so that no cat could argue against her. We’ve been waiting for more than a moon.” He paused, and Mothwing held her breath, excitement swelling inside her. Had it finally happened?
“This morning,” Mudfur went on, the sun giving a glow to his pale brown fur, “I discovered a moth’s wing outside my den. An unmistakable sign that StarClan approves of Mothwing becoming a medicine-cat apprentice.” He blinked proudly at Mothwing, and she dipped her head to him. Her heart was beating hard. At last …
A chorus of excited congratulations broke out as Mothwing’s Clanmates crowded around her, nuzzling her cheeks and purring. Hawkfrost knocked his side against hers. “See?” he meowed cheerfully. “You were worried about nothing.”
Mothwing was so full of joy that she felt for a moment as if she might lift right off the ground. StarClan had chosen her. And her Clanmates were glad! A sense of belonging rushed through her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sent a quick thought to StarClan. Thank you. I’m so sorry I doubted you.
The half-moon sailed high overhead, shining a pale light through the trees of the forest as Mothwing and Mudfur walked side by side back toward the RiverClan camp.
“So,” Mudfur asked, after a companionable silence, “how do you feel?”
“That was amazing,” Mothwing burst out. “I feel really good. Excited.” Words weren’t enough to express what her first medicine-cat meeting had been like, but Mudfur gave a brief purr, as if he understood.
They’d risen at dawn and left camp without even a glance at the fresh-kill pile: you couldn’t eat if you wanted to share tongues with StarClan. It had been a long, hungry walk to Highstones—Mothwing would have sworn the scent of prey in the distance had never been more tantalizing—and the sun was sinking by the time they and the other medicine cats stopped at the bottom of the steep, bare slope that led to the dark cavern that was Mothermouth.
Mothwing had been that far before, accompanying Leopardstar on one of the leader’s trips to the Moonstone. But she’d never been inside.
This time, she’d gotten to enter. At first she’d felt a little disappointed. It had been cold and damp, darker than the darkest night. She hadn’t been able to see even a tail-length in front of her as she walked with the other medicine cats through the twisting passages of Mothermouth. And then they had stepped through into a vast cavern where stars twinkled high above smooth walls of stone. There was a huge stone in the middle of the cave, and the other cats had made her sit before it for what seemed like moons. They’d waited in silence, in the dark, and Mothwing had thought: Is this all?