“I couldn’t tell you about my dream in front of the others, because Leafpool said we don’t tell other medicine cats about our dreams unless their Clans are involved,” Willowpaw mewed seriously, her green eyes lit by the moonlight.
“What did you dream?” Mothwing asked. It was just a dream, no matter what Willowpaw and Leafpool believed, but even she could admit that the medicine cats’ dreams of StarClan often carried truths the medicine cats’ waking minds didn’t see. Maybe Willowpaw had seen something her mind hadn’t realized she’d noticed.
“I was by the Moonpool, just like when I was awake,” Willowpaw explained. “But it was only me and Leafpool and this StarClan cat from ThunderClan, Spottedleaf. You and Barkface and Littlecloud weren’t there. I was looking into the Moonpool, and at first it just reflected the stars. But then storm clouds started gathering in the pool. And a cold wind blew so hard it almost blew me away.” Willowpaw shuddered, her thin shoulders hunching against the remembered storm, then looked up at Mothwing again. “What do you think it means?”
I think it just means you’re worried about something. But that wasn’t what a medicine cat would say to her own apprentice. “Well,” she mewed slowly, brushing her tail across Willowpaw’s back, “what do you think it means?”
“Maybe trouble is coming?” Willowpaw offered hesitantly. “And because only Leafpool and I saw it, it’s coming to ThunderClan and RiverClan, not to all the Clans?”
“Could be,” Mothwing answered. They padded together around the lake toward RiverClan’s territory. As they went, Mothwing kept thinking about Hawkfrost. It felt good to have told Leafpool the truth about what was happening, but that hadn’t helped her decide what she could do about her brother. He’s changed. He wants power now, not just to be a loyal warrior. That kind of thirst was bad for the Clan, she was sure of it. It was cooperation, cats working for the Clan instead of themselves, that made RiverClan strong.
Hawkfrost used to know that. What had changed him? What was he going to do?
As they reached the stream that marked the edge of RiverClan’s camp, the moonlight was quenched again, blotted out by another, larger cloud overhead. Its shadow fell across RiverClan’s camp, throwing it into darkness.
Mothwing’s fur brushed Willowpaw’s, and she could feel her apprentice shiver.
“Do you think it’s a sign?” Willowpaw asked.
“I don’t know,” Mothwing answered slowly. I don’t need a sign to know that trouble is coming.
The next day, Mothwing drilled Willowpaw on the uses of herbs. “What’s this?” she asked, shoving a fragrant leaf under the apprentice’s nose. She enjoyed teaching Willowpaw, passing on the skills that Mudfur had taught her. I can’t give her everything a medicine cat needs, but I’ll give her everything I know.
Willowpaw sniffed. “Borage?” she guessed tentatively.
“Very good,” Mothwing praised. “And what’s it for?”
“We give it to new mothers to help bring their milk supply,” Willowpaw replied, more confidently.
“And?”
“Um.” Willowpaw nosed at the leaves again, thinking hard. “It can help bring down fevers,” she added at last.
“Great!” Mothwing meowed. “Now what else—” She broke off at a commotion outside the thorny tunnel into the medicine den.
“Quick! Voletooth got stung by bees!” Blackclaw was supporting the small brown tom as they crossed into the den. Voletooth had clearly been stung badly; his face was already swelling up in several places, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. The tom whimpered softly.
“Don’t worry, Voletooth, we’ll take care of you,” Mothwing reassured him. She lapped at the stings, hoping to sooth the pain a little, then looked at Willowpaw. “What do we need to do?” she asked, testing her apprentice’s memory.
“What?” The apprentice froze for a moment, then answered hesitantly, “Blackberry leaves? Yes, blackberry leaves! We make a poultice and it’ll help the swelling and pain from the stings.”
“Well done,” Mothwing told her, and returned to licking Voletooth’s stings.
Voletooth grimaced. “I must have angered StarClan,” he groaned, staring plaintively at Mothwing. “Why else would so many bees come after me at once?”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good—” Mothwing started. But Voletooth cut her off, his voice desperate.
“Could you please tell them whatever it is I did to deserve this, I’m sorry?”
Mothwing held his gaze. “That’s the pain talking. You’re being silly. And anyway, you can always tell them yourself, the same way you’d thank them after a good hunt.”
Voletooth yowled. “Yes, but it would make me feel better if a cat who talks to StarClan directly could pass along my message. Please?”
Mothwing suddenly felt like an uncertain apprentice again being put on the spot. She didn’t want to promise this injured cat she’d do anything that she couldn’t actually do. But neither did she wish to deny his request—even if it was silly.
“I—I … ,” she began uncertainly. She looked up and found Willowpaw staring at her with wide eyes. She saw realization dawning there. She’s figured it out, thought Mothwing. She knows I can’t talk to StarClan.
For a long moment, Mothwing worried that Willowpaw would reveal her secret out loud. But instead the young apprentice quickly approached Voletooth, licked at his stings once more, then whispered, “I’m sure StarClan isn’t angry with you, but I will tell them what you’ve said. Don’t worry. All will be well.” Once again, she glanced up at Mothwing, who could only nod gratefully.
“Hurry now,” Mothwing urged, eager to move past the talk of StarClan. “The leaves.”
Willowpaw did as she was told and rushed to find the leaves in their stores.
“Oh, no!” she yelped after a moment, her meow edged with panic. “Mothwing, we’re almost out of blackberry leaves.”
There were blackberries growing at the edge of the horseplace, Mothwing remembered. “I can get some more,” she meowed. “Blackclaw, come with me?” She could use the tom’s help to help her carry the leaves, and to warn off the cats from the horseplace if they came too close. Blackclaw nodded and helped Voletooth lie down in one of the medicine den’s nests.
Willowpaw’s eyes widened, and she looked from Mothwing to Voletooth, whose whimpering was getting louder. “I could go instead?” she mewed, clearly reluctant to be left alone with the injured tom.
“No,” Mothwing nudged Willowpaw reassuringly. “I know exactly where I can find the leaves. You take care of Voletooth.”
Still looking nervous, Willowpaw dipped her head in acknowledgment and went to Voletooth, holding his head steady with one gentle paw. “We’ll have you feeling better soon,” she murmured, and began to lap at the stings.
She’ll be fine, Mothwing thought. Willowpaw was a natural medicine cat, and her instincts were sharp. She knew when she had to offer something Mothwing could not, and she was kind enough to keep that to herself. All she lacked was confidence. It would be good for her to take care of Voletooth on her own. Maybe I’ll have her put the poultice on as well.
“Let’s go.” She hurried toward the camp entrance, Blackclaw behind her, wondering how many leaves they’d be able to carry back with them. It would be good to have a store of them on hand—in greenleaf, there were a lot of bees buzzing around the lakeshore.
Hawkfrost was sitting in front of the thicket that concealed the warriors’ den, his gaze passing thoughtfully over the cats in camp—the kits playing in front of the nursery, the warriors sharing prey, the apprentices gossiping at the edge of the clearing. They’d barely spoken since Mothwing had told him she would never lie for him again.