Mudfur brushed his tail along her back. “Don’t think that way. You’re a fine medicine cat.”
Mothwing scoffed. “I shouldn’t even be a medicine cat!” She aimed her words like claws at Mudfur and the other cats of StarClan. “Hawkfrost tricked you. He planted the moth’s wing outside your den.” Mudfur gazed at her, his calm expression unchanged. “Doesn’t that bother you? You made a mistake. I wasn’t the apprentice you wanted.”
Mudfur’s gaze softened. “I might have been deceived then, but StarClan wasn’t,” he assured her. “If I had to be tricked into taking you as an apprentice, I’m glad of it. You’ve done your duty for your Clan. StarClan makes no mistakes.”
Stepping away from her, Mudfur began to fade. Leopardstar, her pelt shimmering, led the rest of the StarClan cats out of camp. From Dapplenose’s body, a pale form—Dapplenose, young again—rose and followed.
As the cats around her burst into wondering chatter, Mothwing looked again at the injured lying on the ground. StarClan makes no mistakes? All the cats who had died—drowned kits like Tadpole, sick elders, cats who had died on the journey to their new territory or during the long drought, all the cats who had died in accidents or battle—was that meant to happen?
In the past, she had wondered how the other cats could believe in StarClan. Now she saw that life after death was real. But StarClan wasn’t the all-seeing force for good the other medicine cats seemed to think it was.
We can’t rely on our ancestors. We can only rely on one another. That was what she had learned today. Bending to pick up her bundle of herbs again, Mothwing was filled with a new sense of resolution. StarClan didn’t matter. She had Clanmates to care for.
Chapter 9
Mothwing padded beside the edge of the lake, her ears twitching as she took in the sounds of Twolegs playing in their water monsters and of black-headed gulls calling overhead. In her mouth she carried a fresh stock of catmint, picked from near the Twolegplace, and the sun warmed the fur of her back pleasantly. It was a good day.
Newleaf had come again, and, except for a few minor skirmishes over borders, the Clans had been at peace since their great battle with the Dark Forest. Maybe they would stay that way now that they had been allies in such a desperate struggle for survival. But Mothwing doubted it. Warriors loved to fight, and the Clans’ rivalry with one another tied Clanmates more securely together. Still, she would enjoy the peace while she could.
Hawkfrost had not been seen in Clan territory again, nor had any of the other Dark Forest cats. She had to assume that they had returned to the Dark Forest and that they wouldn’t be back.
The sun was beginning to journey down the sky when she crossed the stream that protected RiverClan’s camp.
“Quick! Get her inside!” A desperate yowl broke the calm, and Mothwing pricked up her ears in alarm. The voice—and a babble of softer, worried voices, she heard now—came from the entrance to RiverClan’s camp.
She dropped the catmint and began to run.
A patrol was bunched at the center of camp, their voices high with panic.
“It came out of nowhere!”
“Be careful with her.”
“We need a medicine cat. Where’s Mothwing? Where’s Willowshine?”
“Let me pass.” Mothwing pushed her way through the knot of warriors. Across the clearing, she saw Willowshine hurrying out of the medicine den. In the center of the group, supported between Icewing and Mallownose, Petalfur hung limply, her fur streaming with blood.
“Put her down,” Mothwing mewed. There was no time to take Petalfur into the medicine den; they had to treat her now. She had so many wounds. Some were little more than scratches, but dark red blood welled from worryingly deep punctures—bite marks—on her belly.
“It was a dog.” Mallownose’s voice shook as he gently lowered his mate to the ground. “It came out of nowhere. We all fought it off, but it grabbed Petalfur in its mouth… .” His voice trailed off, his eyes clouded with fear. “You have to save her.”
“She’ll be all right,” Mothwing reassured him, trying to assess which of Petalfur’s wounds were most serious. The she-cat’s eyes were open but dazed, and she didn’t seem to be hearing what was said around her. “Willowshine, bring me some cobwebs.”
Willowshine was quick, and the two medicine cats worked together, pressing the webs on the bites. The most important thing was to staunch the bleeding. But as she pressed down, more blood gushed out of Petalfur’s wounds, warm and thick, soaking Mothwing’s paws. Petalfur began to gasp—choking, panicked noises—and struggled, trying to rise.
“Mallownose, hold her down,” Mothwing ordered. Petalfur was in too much pain to understand that they were trying to help her.
“StarClan is watching over you,” Willowshine whispered comfortingly into Petalfur’s ear. “They’ll guide our paws, and we will keep you safe.”
Mothwing sighed to herself—why would StarClan help now, when they let so many cats die every season?—but Petalfur stilled as if Willowshine’s words had comforted her.
If believing that StarClan will help us makes Willowshine and Petalfur feel better, that’s fine, Mothwing thought. But I know we’re on our own.
It was hard to believe one small she-cat had so much blood in her. The cobwebs were soaked, and the pressure they were applying didn’t seem to be helping at all. Willowshine looked at Mothwing, her green eyes desperate. “She’s losing too much blood,” she mewed.
Mothwing’s heart was fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest, but she took a deep breath. I’ve been a medicine cat for a long time. Mudfur trained me well, and I’ve treated many cats since then. All those moons ago, she had begged to become a medicine cat, and she had never regretted it. This was her purpose.
“Let’s try horsetail,” she decided. “Run and get as much as we have. We’ve got to stop this bleeding.”
She concentrated on trying to hold the edges of Petalfur’s injuries together, hoping to slow the gushing blood, until Willowshine returned. Then she began to chew the bristly stemmed plant into a poultice as Willowshine cleared the cobwebs away from the bites.
She put the poultice on thickly, smearing it across the wounds until they were completely covered with the thick green paste. Slowly, the bleeding became a trickle. “Now the cobwebs,” she added, and she and Willowshine carefully wrapped them over the poultice.
Petalfur was still now, and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the worried faces around her. “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice faint. “Mallownose?”
“I’m here,” her mate meowed quickly.
“Let’s get her into the medicine den,” Willowshine ordered. “If you help me, Mallownose, we can take her there without reopening her wounds.” Mothwing watched as they lifted the wounded warrior gently to her paws and started toward the medicine den.
The circle of cats around them breathed in relief at last. “Thanks be to StarClan,” Mistystar mewed softly.
Mothwing stopped herself from flicking her tail in irritation. StarClan hadn’t guided her paws, or told her what herb to use. It was Mothwing and Willowshine’s training and skill that had saved Petalfur. For a moment, resentment snagged like a claw on her heart.
Then she shook out her pelt and let her anger go. Whether StarClan had helped them or not, Petalfur would be healed, and that was what mattered. Calmly, she followed her patient toward the medicine den.
It had been the right decision to stay with Hawkfrost in RiverClan, all those moons ago. It had brought her the unity of a Clan. And it had been the right choice to ask Mudfur to train her.