Rowanclaw raised his tail to gather his patrol together, and all four cats headed out of the camp, leaving Leafstar to organize the other patrols.
As soon as they were out in the forest, Hawkwing slowed his pace a little, angling his ears at Violetshine to draw her to his side.
“Let Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt go on ahead,” he murmured.
“Don’t you want to patrol with them?” Violetshine asked, surprised that her father would show hostility toward his new Clanmates.
“No, it’s not that at all,” Hawkwing replied. “But they’re mates, so they might want to speak together privately.” He hesitated, then added, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Violetshine tensed. The last cat I want to talk about mates with is my father!
But Hawkwing said nothing more. Distracted by a scuffling sound in the debris underneath a beech tree, he sprang forward, then straightened up again with a mouse in his jaws.
“Good catch!” Violetshine exclaimed, glad to talk about something else.
Letting Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt draw ahead, Violetshine waited while Hawkwing buried the mouse to collect later. Afterward they picked up the pace, until the former ShadowClan cats were in sight again.
As they crossed into ShadowClan’s old territory, Violetshine drifted closer, several paces ahead of her father, wanting to hear what they were saying. She realized that she didn’t entirely trust them; she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear them complaining about Leafstar, or even plotting against her.
Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt were padding along side by side, talking together and clearly unaware that any cat could overhear them. Violetshine stayed as far back as she could, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. The pine trees grew close together here, and her paws made no sound on the thick layer of needles that covered the ground.
“Is this what you really want?” Tawnypelt was asking Rowanclaw as Violetshine crept into earshot. “To end ShadowClan forever? We’re one of the five Clans, remember. I’m sure the rest of our Clan would support you if you decided you’d made a mistake.”
Rowanclaw looked as if he could barely meet her gaze. “Without Tigerheart, there’s no point,” he responded, his voice full of grief. “I wasn’t a strong sun. Puddleshine told me he saw in it in a vision, before Tigerheart left. . . . So I don’t see how ShadowClan can go on.”
Glad that neither cat seemed hostile to Leafstar, Violetshine twitched her tail, torn between wanting to hear what they said and feeling reluctant to intrude. Rowanclaw’s words had brought her own ShadowClan roots vividly back to her mind. She wanted nothing more than to be a SkyClan warrior, and yet she couldn’t pretend she didn’t feel deep sadness at the loss of ShadowClan. She knew too that some of the younger ShadowClan cats felt even worse: at least Violetshine had kin in SkyClan.
But what can any of them do if Rowanclaw doesn’t want to lead?
Violetshine could sense clouds gathering on the horizon, and she felt a sudden chill, like claws of frost probing through her pelt. It gave her a weird feeling that something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her paw on what that might be. The forest suddenly seemed strange and foreboding.
Turning back, she spotted Hawkwing rounding the trunk of a pine tree. “We’ve patrolled, so we can head back to camp, right?” she meowed as he padded up to her. “Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt can find the bedding from their old camp, if there’s any left.”
Hawkwing gave her a curious look. “We’re not finished with the patrol,” he said. “Leafstar wanted us to go to the old ShadowClan camp with Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt, remember?”
Violetshine’s pelt prickled with embarrassment. “Right,” she meowed. “It’s just . . .”
She was aware of her father’s gaze resting on her. “So why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.
Somehow Violetshine couldn’t raise her head to look at him. She didn’t reply to his question, even though she knew the answer. When she thought about how unsettled life was in SkyClan, and how uneasy some cats seemed, she was suddenly nervous about the idea of Tree leaving SkyClan.
Suppose I get back to camp and he’s gone?
CHAPTER 3
Alderheart brushed through the long grass on his way to the stream that marked the border with WindClan, his pelt growing heavy from water droplets left by the recent rain. He barely noticed the forest sounds around him, because he was worrying about the belly sickness that was spreading through the ThunderClan camp. Several cats had become ill over the last quarter moon, and last night they had been joined by Brackenfur, Whitewing, and Plumkit. Alderheart was especially anxious about the sturdy little kit; she was strong, but too small to fight the sickness for long.
He was also worried about Cinderheart’s kits, Snapkit, Spotkit, and Flykit. They had just begun to venture out of the nursery during the day, and they were all keen to explore the camp. But if they caught the sickness, like Plumkit, they might not have the strength to fight off the illness.
StarClan, let me find watermint today, Alderheart prayed. We really need it.
But when he reached the border stream, it looked as though there was no watermint left at all. Perhaps WindClan was also suffering from the illness. He tried not to feel resentful that Kestrelflight had taken so much, instead of going to the border they shared with RiverClan, where it also grew.
Harestar won’t want to start any trouble with RiverClan. Since RiverClan had closed its borders and abandoned contact with the other Clans, no cat knew what Mistystar and her cats might be thinking.
Alderheart padded along the bank, heading upstream, and finally spotted a few stems of the precious herb. They were growing close to the water’s edge, and he had to lean precariously over the stream before he could manage to pick them.
After scrambling back to safety, he headed back to camp with the scant bundle. Overhead, dark clouds were massing again, and Alderheart felt a tingle of unease as he glanced up at them. The first drops of rain splashed onto his head.
It feels like half a moon at least since I really saw the sun, he thought. I’ve never seen anything like this before.
His medicine-cat awareness told him that these clouds were more than just the promise of rain. The dark sky must not herald a storm. Could the darkening sky be a literal sign of the prophecy coming true? The clouds seemed darker and denser than any he had seen before, bulging with rain, and Alderheart couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom, disaster hanging over the Clans just as the clouds were looming over the forest.
Something is coming. I can feel it. . . .
“Why are you chewing up that chervil root?” Jayfeather demanded, giving Alderheart a sharp prod in his shoulder with one paw. “The sick cats need watermint! Are you still an apprentice?”
Alderheart spat the chervil-root chunks onto a dock leaf and suppressed a sigh. Since so many cats had come down with the sickness, Jayfeather had become crankier than ever. But Alderheart knew him well enough not to be offended.
“We don’t have watermint,” he pointed out calmly. He had given the few scraps he had managed to find to Plumkit. “Do you expect me to pull it out of my ears?”
“No,” Jayfeather grumbled. “I expect you to stay out there until you find some.”
Alderheart cast a glance at the bramble screen that covered the entrance to the medicine-cat den. Outside, the rain was hissing down; still, Alderheart would willingly get soaked to the skin if it meant he could find the herb they so desperately needed.