Rippletail dipped his head. “I only ever wanted to help my Clan,” he meowed. “My life was worth that. The life I give you is for curiosity, for the courage to find out what lies beyond the horizon. Never turn down a chance to learn something more.”
“I won’t; I promise,” Mistyfoot whispered as the heat burned through her once more. She was beginning to feel dizzy and weak, and her vision was blurred.
At first she thought no cat had come up after Rippletail. There was an empty space in front of her. She had one more life to come, didn’t she? Then there was a tiny squeak below her, and Mistyfoot looked down at a small black kit with piercing green eyes.
“Perchkit! My baby!”
The tiny cat bounced on his paws. “I knew I’d see you again,” he chirped. “They said I could give you a life, too. So mine is for bravery, even when you are walking into shadows. There will always be light, even in the darkest night.”
He stretched up to press his nose against Mistyfoot’s chin. She inhaled his precious kit scent and drank in the energy that flowed from him. I never forgot you, not for a single moment.
“Mistystar! Mistystar!”
The cats on the shore raised their voices, sending her new name echoing up to the sky. Two more cats pushed through the throng and wound around Mistystar’s legs. “Pikepaw! Primrosepaw!” She felt a rush of love for her kits who hadn’t lived long enough to become the warriors they should have been.
“We will be waiting for you,” Pikepaw promised earnestly.
“We are so proud of you!” Primrosepaw added, pressing her cheek against Mistystar’s shoulder.
Mistystar opened her mouth to tell her kits how much she missed them, but the light was turning gray and misty, and the shore vanished to be replaced by curved cliffs of stone. Mistystar was lying beside the Moonpool once more, her ears ringing and her fur still ruffled from the agony of the nine lives.
Mothwing padded up to her. “Are you all right?”
Mistystar blinked. She pictured the cats by the shore again, and knew there had been one missing. “You weren’t there!”
Mothwing winced, then relaxed as if a weight had been lifted off her. “No.” She held Mistystar’s gaze without flinching. “You will always visit StarClan alone. They don’t exist for me in the way that they do for you.”
Mistystar stared at her friend in dismay. What was Mothwing saying? She was a medicine cat! How could this be true? She fought to speak, even though the ground was lurching under her feet.
“You… you don’t believe in StarClan?”
Chapter 4
“But you’ve been our medicine cat for so long! Have you never walked with StarClan in your dreams?”
Mothwing shook her head. “You have your beliefs,” she meowed calmly. “I have mine. The cats you see in your dreams guide and protect you in ways that I have lived without. I am skilled at healing and caring for my Clanmates, and that has been enough to serve my Clan.”
Mistystar’s mind was whirling. Surely this couldn’t be happening! How could a medicine cat not believe in StarClan? Why had none of the cats said anything to her during the nine lives ceremony? They must know that Mothwing never walked with them. What about omens? Did StarClan bother to send any if Mothwing would never be watching for them? She took a step forward, suddenly desperate to get back to the lake, to find a footing for her paws on ground that seemed to have shifted.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
As Mothwing followed her up the paw-printed path, Mistystar thought she heard the medicine cat murmur, “I’m sorry.” But there was nothing she could think of to say in reply.
They traveled quickly and in silence, leaping and scrambling down the tumbled rocks until they were standing on the short, springy grass of WindClan’s territory once more. Scents from ThunderClan drifted to them across the narrow stream that marked the boundary between the two Clans. “Let’s stop and tell Firestar what has happened,” Mistystar suggested. The other leaders would have to learn about Leopardstar’s death sometime.
Mothwing nodded. They jumped over the stream and trotted down the other side until they reached a clear path that led into the trees. Fresh ThunderClan scent hung in the air; they had clearly just missed a patrol. Mistystar took the lead along the trail, reminding herself that she was a Clan leader now, and had every right to visit her neighbors with this important news without being accused of trespassing. But it still felt strange to be walking in another Clan’s territory without constantly looking over her shoulder, wary of ambush.
They reached the gap in the walls of the hollow and forced their way in through the thorns. Mistystar shook her head to dislodge the prickles that had caught in her nose. She didn’t know how the ThunderClan cats put up with such an uncomfortable entrance to their home. Firestar was crossing the clearing to meet them.
“Is everything all right?”
Mistystar stood still and waited for him to reach her. “Leopardstar’s dead,” she announced.
Firestar lowered his head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“We’ve just come from the Moonpool,” Mothwing explained. “Mistystar has received her nine lives.”
Firestar dipped his muzzle even lower. “Mistystar,” he mewed respectfully.
“Mistystar,” echoed Graystripe, a sturdy tom who Mistystar had known since he was an apprentice back in the forest.
“Mistystar, Mistystar,” called the other ThunderClan cats.
Mistystar felt a bit uncomfortable. She had never liked being the center of attention, and it seemed all the more strange because she was still getting used to her new name. “Thank you,” she mewed when the cats were silent. “I have chosen Reedwhisker as my deputy. We look forward to a long and fair relationship with ThunderClan.”
Firestar raised his head and lightly touched her muzzle. “How’s RiverClan?” His tone was lighter, more relaxed; now that the formal greeting was over, he sounded more like the cat Mistystar had known—and confided in—for so long.
She told him about the loss of three elders, and that the drought had hit the whole Clan hard. Firestar was sympathetic, and Jayfeather offered Mothwing some herbs to replenish her stocks, including watermint. Laden with green-scented leaves, the RiverClan cats retraced their steps through the trees. When they broke out into the open and reached the stream again, Mistystar put down her mouthful of herbs.
“Does Jayfeather know that you don’t believe in StarClan?” she mewed.
Mothwing nodded.
“What does he think?”
Mothwing carefully placed her herbs on a tussock of grass. “He knows that I am a good medicine cat and will do anything to help my Clan.”
Mistystar stared at her Clanmate in frustration. How could she be so calm and accepting? She longed to ask Mothwing about omens and dreams and ceremonies—all the responsibilities of a medicine cat that involved trusting in the unseen presence of their warrior ancestors. But standing in ThunderClan territory, still a long way from home, wasn’t the right place for that conversation. The questions would have to wait. Mistystar picked up her herbs and leaped over the stream.
Mothwing followed, and they picked their way down to the edge of the lake to walk along the shore, which lay outside WindClan territory. As they neared the border with RiverClan, a WindClan patrol spotted them and raced up, bristling, but their fur flattened when Mistystar told them about Leopardstar’s death, and the warriors offered sympathy and congratulations to Mistystar on receiving her nine lives. They promised to tell Onestar as soon as they returned to their camp.