Willowpaw herself was another worry for Mothwing. The small gray apprentice was eager to help her Clanmates and quick to learn the herbs and techniques she would use to heal their illnesses and injuries. Mothwing was confident that she could train Willowpaw well in all of that.
But there was another part of being a medicine cat, one that Mothwing had failed at over and over again.
I can’t believe in StarClan. I just can’t.
She had tried. Mothwing had never seen StarClan in a dream, had never had a vision. But that didn’t mean StarClan didn’t exist. Hawkfrost had cheated the Clan into accepting Mothwing as a medicine cat; maybe StarClan didn’t want to share tongues with her.
The other medicine cats believed. They saw visions, they dreamed dreams where they spoke to the dead cats of their Clans, and they saw signs everywhere around them. Mothwing didn’t doubt their sincerity: it shone in every word they said. But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. When they dreamed their dreams, she thought that their minds must be remembering small things they hadn’t noticed, making connections they hadn’t thought of, then using memories of cats they had known to explain these things to themselves.
Mothwing couldn’t do it. And if she couldn’t teach Willowpaw to do it, her apprentice would never be a true medicine cat either.
Mothwing sighed, her tail drooping. She was a good medicine cat in a lot of ways—she knew she was. But lately, she felt like she was failing.
The grass and thorny vines that protected the medicine den rustled, and she looked up to see Hawkfrost pushing his way into the den.
“Oof.” He shook out his pelt. “Those thorns pull at my fur.”
“You’re almost too big to fit,” Mothwing meowed, eyeing her brother. Hawkfrost seemed to grow broader and more powerfully muscled every day. He had become the most formidable warrior in RiverClan. And right now, his gaze seemed too intent for this to be a casual visit. “What do you need?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Hawkfrost told her. “As RiverClan’s medicine cat, not just my sister.”
Mothwing looked at him again. His fur was as thick and shiny as ever, but his eyes were tired, and there was a long scratch across his chest. “Are you feeling all right? Does that scratch need treating?”
“I’m fine.” Hawkfrost licked at the scratch quickly. “It’s nothing, just a scrape.”
“It looks like it was made by claws,” Mothwing meowed, worried. Surely, she would have heard if Hawkfrost had been fighting.
“Maybe I got it during battle practice,” Hawkfrost answered dismissively. He lowered his voice. “I’m worried about RiverClan, not about myself.”
“What’s wrong?” Prey was running well, and they’d had little conflict on their shared border with ShadowClan lately. “Have Twolegs been coming onto our territory?” Now that full greenleaf was here, Twolegs had been riding their strange water monsters across the lake, but they rarely came onto the reedy, muddy banks that surrounded RiverClan’s camp.
“It’s not Twolegs.” Hawkfrost tucked his tail more tightly around himself. “I don’t like Stormfur and Brook being here.”
“Stormfur and Brook?” Mothwing asked, puzzled. The dark gray tom had left RiverClan during their journey and joined the Tribe of Rushing Water in the mountains, but he—and his Tribe mate, Brook Where Small Fish Swim—had recently rejoined the Clan, with little explanation. “They’re fitting in, aren’t they? They hunt and patrol and all that? Every cat seems to like them.”
“Every cat likes them too much,” Hawkfrost growled. “I don’t trust them.”
“Stormfur was one of the cats who went to the sun-drown-place and found the way to our new territory,” Mothwing protested. The fur at the back of her neck was prickling uncomfortably. What was Hawkfrost getting at? “He’s always been a loyal warrior.”
“No, he hasn’t!” Hawkfrost jumped to his paws. “He left RiverClan. He’s a traitor!”
A traitor? Mothwing wondered dubiously. Stormfur had left the Clan, but it was because he had been in love. She didn’t think of him as a traitor. All of RiverClan had missed him.
“And Brook! She’s not even one of us. RiverClan’s just supposed to let her join?”
“They let us join,” Mothwing reminded him.
Hawkfrost glared at her. “That’s not the same thing. RiverClan took us as apprentices. We had to work to be accepted, and we’ve proved ourselves over and over again. Brook just walked in and she pretends to be a warrior! She can’t even fight!” The fur between his shoulders bristled with anger.
“Well, in the Tribe, she was a prey-hunter. She never had to fight,” Mothwing shot back, wishing her brother would be reasonable. “Why does it matter, anyway? If Leopardstar is okay with them being here, it’s her decision, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know why she lets them stay.” Hawkfrost began to pace, his tail slashing back and forth. “I don’t like it.”
“Why do you care?” Mothwing asked, puzzled. “Even if they are still loyal to the Tribe, they’re no danger to RiverClan. We can always use more hunters.”
Hawkfrost stopped pacing and stared at her, his ice-pale blue eyes narrowing. “Leopardstar is the oldest Clan leader now,” he meowed. “Before many seasons pass, Mistyfoot will become RiverClan’s leader.”
“Leopardstar is perfectly healthy,” Mothwing replied defensively. She didn’t like to think about Leopardstar dying, even though she knew their leader was getting old.
“I want to be RiverClan’s next deputy,” Hawkfrost told her flatly. “I deserve to be. I’m the strongest warrior in the Clan, and I’ve always been loyal.”
“You’re the clear choice to be deputy,” Mothwing agreed. “Leopardstar already made you temporary deputy once, when Mistyfoot was missing.”
“Yes, but Mistyfoot likes Stormfur better than me!” Hawkfrost hissed. “I don’t know who she’d choose.”
Mothwing cocked her head, considering. “Do you really think she’d choose Stormfur? You’re right about one thing—he did leave the Clan.”
Hawkfrost’s ears twitched. “Maybe she wouldn’t choose him now, but in a few moons? When the Clan’s memory of his desertion isn’t so fresh? Tigerstar kept both Mistyfoot and Stormfur as prisoners because they were half-Clan cats. He planned to kill them! Don’t you think when Mistyfoot becomes leader, she would prefer Stormfur as her deputy, instead of Tigerstar’s son?”
Mothwing blinked at him. “Mistyfoot’s always accepted us. I’m sure she wouldn’t hold what Tigerstar did against you.”
“I can’t take that chance.” Hawkwing’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?” Mothwing asked. The prickle of unease was getting stronger. Hawkwing had gotten angrier, colder, since they’d traveled to the lake. He’d always wanted to be the best of the RiverClan warriors, but now he seemed to resent any cat who might have an advantage over him.
“I can’t risk Mistyfoot choosing Stormfur,” Hawkfrost explained. “And I can’t do anything about it, but you can.”
“I can?” Mothwing replied. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“You’re the medicine cat,” Hawkfrost told her. “If you told Leopardstar and Mistyfoot that Stormfur and Brook don’t belong in RiverClan, they’d have to listen to you.”
“Why should I say that?” Mothwing felt her eyes stretch wide. “They’re doing well here.”
Hawkfrost glanced back over his shoulder, then stepped closer, until his breath was hot on her cheek. “Don’t you agree I’d be a good deputy?” he asked softly. “Don’t you want to help me? After all we’ve done for RiverClan, we deserve to lead it. No cat respects the warrior code and what being part of a Clan means more than we do.”