“I’m worried about her,” Alderheart confessed to Leafpool. “Her leg was twisted badly.”
“At least it’s not broken,” Leafpool responded. “And the stick you and Jayfeather bound onto it will give it some support. She’ll just have to stay off the leg completely until it gets better.”
“That’s going to take a few days,” Alderheart mewed gloomily.
He was concerned about Twigpaw’s other injuries, too, the long scratches on her sides and face that he had treated with marigold to protect against infection. But what worried him most of all was the heartbroken expression on Twigpaw’s face before the poppy seeds had helped her to drift into sleep. He remembered her anguish as she’d told him how Violetpaw had attacked her. He knew how terrible he would feel if Sparkpelt had turned on him like that.
And Twigpaw has never had any kin but Violetpaw, he mused. I’ll do my best to look after her.
Alderheart’s thoughts were interrupted as Bramblestar stuck his head around the bramble screen.
“We’re getting ready to leave for the Gathering,” he meowed. “I want at least one medicine cat, but you can decide which of you is going.”
He withdrew again without waiting for a reply.
“You and Jayfeather should go,” Leafpool suggested immediately. “Jayfeather!” she called. “Do you want to go to the Gathering?”
Jayfeather emerged from the cleft at the back of the medicine cats’ den, where he had been checking on the remaining herb stores. “I suppose,” he muttered, not sounding enthusiastic. “If you’re sure you can cope by yourself.”
“I was coping before you were kitted,” Leafpool reminded him tartly. “I’ll check on the injured warriors, and I want to keep an eye on Blossomfall. Her kits are due any day now.”
“Okay,” Jayfeather agreed. “Come on, Alderheart. Let’s see if Onestar has any excuse for what he did during the battle.”
The sun was gone, and twilight filled the stone hollow as Alderheart followed Jayfeather out into the clearing. The other cats who were to go to the Gathering were emerging from their dens to join Bramblestar. The Clan deputy, Squirrelflight, was there, along with Lionblaze and Dovewing, all of them with minor injuries from the fight that morning. Alderheart’s former mentor, Molewhisker, a long gash running across his back, stood beside his sister, Cherryfall, whose tail was bound up with cobwebs. Sparkpelt trotted up to them, a clump of fur missing from her shoulder.
We really are a battered group, Alderheart thought. A battered Clan…
As he padded across the clearing to join his Clanmates, Alderheart spotted the three elders emerging from their den. Graystripe and Millie headed toward the crowd of cats around Bramblestar, but Purdy broke away from them and sidled up to Alderheart.
“I’ve got a bit of a bellyache,” he confided in a low voice. “Do you reckon you could get me some chervil, or maybe a juniper berry, before we go?”
“You should go see Leafpool,” Alderheart responded, angling his ears in the direction of the medicine-cat den. “She’s staying behind to keep an eye on Blossomfall and the injured warriors.”
Purdy took a step back. “I won’t bother her if she’s busy,” he mewed. “Maybe I’ll just skip the Gatherin’ and sleep off the bellyache.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’ll be fine, young ’un,” Purdy insisted. “You’ll tell me what I missed, right?”
“Of course,” Alderheart promised. “Have a good rest, Purdy.”
As the old tabby tottered back toward the elders’ den, Alderheart realized that Bramblestar was already heading for the thorn tunnel, leading his warriors out of the camp. The ShadowClan cats who were living with ThunderClan—Rowanstar, Tawnypelt, and Tigerheart—had joined the group and were padding along just behind Bramblestar.
As Alderheart followed his Clanmates down to the lake and along the shore, he reflected on what he had heard about the battle that morning. No cat had expected so much blood to be shed, and most of the ThunderClan warriors were blaming Onestar, who had ordered the WindClan cats to retreat and given the rogues an unexpected advantage.
Mistystar had suffered a serious wound, and many of the RiverClan warriors who had jumped in to defend her were in bad shape too. When Leafpool heard that, she had offered to go to RiverClan to help Mothwing and Willowshine treat the injured cats, but Bramblestar had forbidden it.
“Mothwing and Willowshine can handle their own Clan,” he had meowed. “Leafpool, you’re needed here, in our camp, to care for your Clanmates.”
Leafpool had dipped her head in acquiescence, though Alderheart had realized she was still deeply worried about the RiverClan cats. He wondered how bad their injuries were. Might Mistystar have lost a life?
As he padded along the lakeshore, which was silent except for the lapping of waves against the pebbles, Alderheart could imagine the yowls and screeching of ferocious cats, the hot reek of blood, and the flashing of teeth and claws. So much blood—and we didn’t even achieve our goal.
Still the rogues hold ShadowClan’s territory.
The ThunderClan cats talked among themselves as they traveled around the lake, but they grew quiet as they approached the end of the tree-bridge that led to the island. Alderheart could see exhaustion in the faces and bodies of his Clanmates, though they raised their heads proudly as they padded along the tree trunk and jumped down on the opposite shore. He knew that they would do their best to hide any trace of weakness from the other Clans.
When the ThunderClan cats pushed their way through the bushes that surrounded the central clearing, they saw that RiverClan had already arrived. Alderheart suppressed a gasp of shock and pity when he saw Mistystar’s wound, a gash running from her neck almost to her hind leg. She winced at every movement, and her eyes were filled with pain. Duskfur, Mintfur, and Reedwhisker clustered closely around her, wounds visible on their bodies too. Yet all of them stood proudly; Alderheart admired their determination to be strong.
Chatter broke out among the cats of both Clans, but it sank into silence a moment later as Onestar led the cats of WindClan into the clearing.
They’ve got a few scratches, Alderheart thought, gazing at them with disgust. But none of them are hurt as badly as our cats, or RiverClan’s.
From the glare of contempt that Mistystar gave Onestar, she was clearly thinking the same thing.
Alderheart and Jayfeather padded closer to the Great Oak in the center of the clearing, murmuring greetings to Mothwing and Willowshine, who were already sitting there. Kestrelflight, the WindClan medicine cat, joined them a few heartbeats later. Alderheart flashed him an awkward glance; the rest of the cats simply ignored him. Kestrelflight crouched down a tail-length away, clearly embarrassed, and said nothing.
Bramblestar and Rowanstar leaped into the branches of the Great Oak, followed closely by Onestar, who scrambled out onto a branch far away from the other two. Alderheart thought Mistystar would never make it into the tree, but she clawed her way up, her teeth set in grim determination, and collapsed onto a low branch.
“Is Rowanstar even a Clan leader anymore?” Sparkpelt whispered to Cherryfall. “The only other cats in his Clan now are his mate and his kit.”
Overhearing his sister, Alderheart shifted uncomfortably. He knew that she was wrong. StarClan had given nine lives to Rowanstar, and nothing could take that away: Rowanstar had every right to sit with the other leaders. But that didn’t change the fact that ShadowClan was in trouble.