Goosefeather nodded, panting. “Thank you. Really. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this before.”
The she-cat glanced sideways at him. “Just don’t go looking for an excuse to practice on Stormtail,” she teased.
Goosefeather stiffed in surprise. “You know Stormtail?”
“Oh, I know every one of you.” She started to walk into the bracken.
“What is your name?” Goosefeather called after her.
The she-cat carried on walking without looking back. “Mapleshade,” she mewed.
Limping from a sore shoulder where Mapleshade had wrenched him off his paws, Goosefeather headed back to the ravine. Moonpaw was approaching from the other direction. She ran up when she saw him, her fur fluffed out in alarm.
“I’ve been looking for you! I’m really sorry for running off like that,” she blurted out. “I was frightened for you, that’s all. We drove the badger off the territory, so you’ll be safe now.”
Goosefeather shrugged. “You were right. I do need to learn how to take care of myself.”
“But you’re a medicine cat. It’s the duty of the warriors to keep you safe.” Moonpaw followed him as he started to walk down the path. “I could show you some moves, if you like. Windflight says
I’m doing really well.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out on my own,” Goosefeather meowed without stopping.
“But you can’t be on your own all the time!” Moonpaw protested. “Don’t you get lonely? It’s not normal, not having friends.”
Goosefeather halted and spun around, hissing. “Don’t you understand? This is my normal. Get used to it, because nothing’s going to change.” He turned and ran the rest of the way down to the gorse bushes.
Stormtail was standing beside the fresh-kill pile. Goosefeather walked up to him and put his mouth close to the warrior’s ear. “I know what you did,” he hissed. “You left me alone with that badger because you wanted me to get hurt.”
Stormtail turned to him, bristling. “Don’t be so absurd!” he meowed. “I ran to fetch help!”
“You brought it to me deliberately! If I had died, my blood would be on your paws! Moonpaw saved my life!”
“Thank StarClan for your brave sister, then,” Stormtail purred. “She’s a wonderful cat.”
“Leave Moonpaw out of this!” Goosefeather snarled.
He was interrupted by Smallear racing up to him. “Cloudberry needs you in the nursery. Larksong is having her kits!”
Goosefeather glared at Stormtail. “This isn’t over,” he spat. He spun around and raced to the nursery. From inside, he could hear Larksong panting and Cloudberry talking quietly to her.
Goosefeather slipped through the branches and crouched beside the medicine cat.
“Ah, good, you’re here,” she murmured in the same soothing tone. “Larksong, Goosefeather has arrived just in time to welcome your first kit. One more push!”
The tortoiseshell she-cat let out a gasp as a spasm rippled along her flank. Goosefeather stared, fascinated, as a tiny wet bundle slid from beneath Larksong’s tail. Cloudberry drew the bundle toward her with one paw and nipped through the transparent layer that surrounded it. “Here you go,” she mewed, nudging it toward Goosefeather. “Start cleaning him up.” She turned to Larksong and ran one paw along the she-cat’s flank. “You have a beautiful son,” she purred. “But I think there’s another to come. Don’t give up now.”
Goosefeather began to lick the tiny kit’s damp fur, keeping one eye on Larksong. A heartbeat later there was a second bundle lying in the moss. Cloudberry pushed it toward Larksong’s head. “Another tom,” she meowed. The little cat opened its jaws in a high-pitched wail. “With a loud voice already,” Cloudberry purred. “Come on, Larksong, clean him up so they can have their first feed.”
Goosefeather felt his kit start to wriggle beneath his tongue. “I think this one’s hungry,” he mewed.
“Put him next to Larksong’s belly,” Cloudberry instructed. “He’ll know what to do.”
Goosefeather stared in awe as the kit nosed its way into Larksong’s fur and latched onto a teat.
“Amazing,” he breathed.
“I agree,” mewed Cloudberry softly. “I never get tired of this moment.”
The second kit joined his brother, and Goosefeather watched them suckle. Larksong lay back and closed her eyes. Cloudberry started to pull away the stained moss. “We’ll freshen up her nest and leave her in peace,” she whispered.
Goosefeather rested one paw on the kit he had cleaned. At once, images burst into his head, tumbling and flashing in a blur of senses: the Moonstone, the strong smell of herbs, a gaping wound padded with thick white webs, glittering starlight full of voices. He looked up at Cloudberry. “He’s going to be a medicine cat!” he breathed.
Quickly he placed his paw on the other kit. Now he saw the four giant oaks silhouetted against the night sky, felt the cool stone of the Great Rock beneath his paws, watched the Clans swirl in the hollow below. He heard the roar of battle and tasted the sweetness of victory, echoed in the cheers of his warriors. “And this one will be ThunderClan’s leader,” he declared. He stared at Cloudberry, his head whirling. “We have to tell Doestar! These kits are truly special!”
He jumped up, but Cloudberry blocked his way with her tail. “Every kit is special,” she told him fiercely. “You may think you know what will happen, but StarClan knows better than any of us. Let these kits grow up like any other, without the burden of knowing their future.”
Goosefeather frowned. “I didn’t have a chance to grow up like other kits,” he growled. “You knew I was going to be a medicine cat.”
The old white cat sighed. “You were always different, Goosefeather. I know it’s hard, but you have to keep what you have seen to yourself this time.” She rested the tip of her tail on Goosefeather’s shoulder. “You have a very precious gift, young one. Sometimes it will feel like a burden, but I believe that StarClan has given it to you for a reason, so you must always be grateful for it and treat it with care.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the kits, who were snuffling at Larksong’s belly with milky muzzles. “Now let’s leave these perfect little bundles to get some rest. It’s time to tell their Clanmates the good news.”
Chapter Eight
As the moons rolled into leaf-bare, more and more kits were born, until Goosefeather could hardly squeeze into the nursery. Harepounce gave birth to a pair of pale-furred she-cats, Specklekit and Whitekit, and Rainfur joined her soon after with Dapplekit, Tawnykit, and Thrushkit. Cloudberry insisted on dealing with the births on her own, sending Goosefeather to fetch soaked moss and fresh bedding instead. Goosefeather knew she didn’t want him to touch the newborn kits for fear he would see their entire future unroll.
Meanwhile Larksong’s brace of toms, Sunkit and Featherkit, grew into strong little cats, ready to nip Goosefeather’s tail when he wasn’t watching, or shred their freshly laid nest with their thorn-sharp teeth. As soon as their eyes were open, Larksong shooed them out of the nursery to give the other queens some peace. Her sons tottered about the clearing on sturdy legs, fur fluffed up against the cold. A tendril of ivy lay on the ground beside the half-tree, and the kits pounced on it with ferocious squeaks.
“Did you see Sunkit jump just then?” Goosefeather mewed to Cloudberry. They were at the fresh-kill pile, choosing a soft piece of prey for Nettlebreeze, who was complaining of toothache. “He’s already more powerful than his brother.”