Crowfeather stood on the bank of the border stream, his shoulders hunched against a thin drizzle that had started as he crossed the moor. He was waiting for a ThunderClan patrol. His claws tore impatiently at the grass as he wondered how long it would be before any cats appeared.
If they’re waiting for the rain to stop, it could be too late for Breezepelt.
Crowfeather’s paws itched to leap across and hurry toward the camp on his own, but he knew it would be a bad idea to trespass when he had come to ask a favor.
I wish I’d thought to bring another cat with me, he thought. Featherpaw, for example… We could have done some training, and then I wouldn’t have the time to worry about Breezepelt.
But when Crowfeather had asked Onestar’s permission to visit Leafpool, his Clan leader had told him to go alone. “You won’t have any trouble,” Onestar had assured him. “Not since you’re on medicine-cat business.”
Finally, Crowfeather picked up a fresher ThunderClan scent and heard the sound of a patrol brushing through the undergrowth on the far side of the stream. He stepped forward to the very edge as Sandstorm, Berrynose, and Ivypool emerged into the open.
“Great StarClan, it’s you again!” Berrynose exclaimed.
And it’s you again, you rude furball. Crowfeather didn’t speak the thought aloud. “Greetings,” he meowed politely, addressing Sandstorm. “Please, may I come across? I’m on medicine-cat business from Kestrelflight, and I need to speak to Leafpool.”
“This is a border,” Berrynose pointed out, before Sandstorm could reply. “Smell the scent marks? You can’t come in here when you feel like it, as if you were a kittypet going in and out of its Twolegs’ den.”
Crowfeather felt the fur on his spine beginning to rise at being compared to a kittypet, but he forced it to lie flat again. He needed to stay on good terms with these cats and get the help he needed quickly, however much he might want to claw the smug expression off Berrynose’s face.
“That’s enough, Berrynose,” Sandstorm snapped, and Crowfeather caught Ivypool rolling her eyes.
I guess ThunderClan cats find Berrynose just as much of a pain in the tail as we do, Crowfeather thought.
“You can come over, Crowfeather,” Sandstorm went on. “We’re ready to go back to camp, so we can escort you.”
Sandstorm led the way through the woods with Crowfeather behind her and Berrynose bringing up the rear with Ivypool. Crowfeather winced at the cold touch of wet grass and fern against his pelt, and the drops of rain from the trees that plopped down on his back. Somehow the forest seems so much wetter than the moor, he thought as he trudged along with his head down.
When they reached the stone hollow, Sandstorm took Crowfeather as far as the entrance to the medicine-cat den and left him there. “Go right in,” she instructed him. “I’ll tell Bramblestar you’re here.”
Crowfeather brushed past the brambles that screened the entrance to the den, calling out Leafpool’s name as he entered. But once he was inside the den, he saw that Leafpool wasn’t there, only Jayfeather and Briarlight curled up asleep in her nest. He halted, freezing.
Now what do I do?
Jayfeather turned from where he was sorting herbs toward the back of the den. “That’s WindClan scent,” he muttered, tasting the air. A moment later he added, “Oh, it’s you, Crowfeather.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “What do you want?”
“I was looking for Leafpool,” Crowfeather explained, realizing that he would have to make the best of the awkward situation.
“She’s out gathering herbs,” Jayfeather told him curtly. “But if you’re here on medicine-cat business, I can help with that just as well as Leafpool can. She certainly doesn’t need you taking up any more of her time. You’ve already done enough of that.”
Crowfeather flinched, glad that Jayfeather couldn’t see him. “Kestrelflight sent me to ask if you could spare any burdock root,” he mewed.
Jayfeather flicked his tail. “Lionblaze told me Breezepelt was injured in the battle,” he responded dryly. “Is that who the burdock root is for? Is that why Kestrelflight sent you?”
The tight lines of Jayfeather’s shoulders, the tilted back, the furious angle of his ears, even the clipped, sullen tone of his voice all seemed so familiar to Crowfeather. He looked and sounded like Breezepelt at his angriest.
In fact, Crowfeather realized with a weird little lurch in his belly, they both look and sound like me, at my worst.
For the first time — and Crowfeather knew that it was pretty useless to see it now — he felt a flush of recognition for Jayfeather. Even though Bramblestar had raised him, there could be no doubt: The blind medicine cat really was his kit.
“Yes, the burdock root is for Breezepelt,” he admitted, allowing a bit of impatience into his own voice. Jayfeather needs to know I’m serious. “He’s badly hurt. Kestrelflight says he has an infected stoat bite. He’s feverish and he doesn’t recognize any cat, and Kestrelflight told me he needs burdock root. He—”
“I’m sorry.” Jayfeather cut him off with barely concealed contempt. “I don’t have any to spare.”
The disappointment struck Crowfeather like a blow. For a moment he’d thought he understood the cranky, blind medicine cat… But I was wrong. And why shouldn’t I be? I barely know him.
Crowfeather felt a sinking feeling deep in his chest and was about to take his leave when he realized something: Jayfeather had said he couldn’t spare any burdock root, not that he didn’t have any at all.
“If you can lend me some, just for a little while,” he pleaded, “I’ll find more for you. I—”
Jayfeather interrupted again, every word spat out as if it were rotting crow-food. “Breezepelt tried to kill my brother. He said he was glad that Hollyleaf was dead, and that none of us should ever have been born. Lionblaze might have forgiven Breezepelt, but Lionblaze is a nicer cat than I am. Or a more stupid one.” His blind eyes glared at Crowfeather, the pelt on his scrawny figure bushing out. “I can’t forgive Breezepelt. I can’t forgive you. And I don’t have any burdock root to spare.”
Crowfeather stood still, his shoulders sagging as he took his son’s hostile expression. The thought crossed his mind that he could fight his way past Jayfeather and take the burdock root, but he knew how bee-brained that would be. I’d never make it out of the camp. But it was hard to know that the root to save Breezepelt was only a few tail-lengths away, at the back of the den.
“I’m sorry I treated you badly when I found out you were my kit,” Crowfeather meowed at last, breaking the long silence. “And I know that Breezepelt is sorry for what he did in the battle against the Dark Forest.”
If he had hoped for a sympathetic response from Jayfeather, he was disappointed. The medicine cat said nothing, only flicked his tail dismissively.
Crowfeather dipped his head in acceptance. “Good-bye,” he murmured. “I should have known that you would say no.” Then he turned and left the den.
I’ll go on around the lake and stop off in ShadowClan, and if that’s no good, I’ll visit RiverClan on my way home. Mothwing won’t refuse if she has the burdock root. But even so, every extra paw step takes time Breezepelt may not have…
The rain was still falling, depressing Crowfeather’s spirits even more. He headed for the thorn tunnel, but before he reached it, he heard Jayfeather calling out behind him. “Crowfeather, wait!”