“Mothwing meant to be kind,” Leafpaw murmured. She didn’t want her friend to get into trouble for not noticing the rabbit at the bottom of the pool.
To Leafpaw’s relief, Cinderpelt didn’t seem to blame Mothwing too much. “I know. Any cat can make a mistake.”
Then the medicine cat’s eyes darkened and she went on: “But Mothwing would be the first to admit she has much less experience than the other medicine cats, and no mentor to guide her now that Mudfur is dead. I hope for RiverClan’s sake that she doesn’t make this sort of mistake too often.
She’ll need all the help StarClan can give her, that’s for sure.”
Weak after her vomiting, but more comfortable, Mousefur managed to sleep. Sorreltail stayed to keep an eye on her, with instructions from Cinderpelt to fetch her if the pain returned. The sky was already turning gray behind the trees at the top of the cliff, and though Leafpaw felt exhausted there was no point in going back to the makeshift den. As soon as the light grew stronger, she and Cinderpelt went to look for Firestar.
A wind had sprung up, rattling the leafless branches and tearing the clouds into ragged strips, but the undergrowth sheltered by the ring of stone hardly stirred. A gleam of pale sunlight slanted into the hollow, leaving the foot of the cliff in shadow but striking a gentle warmth into the ferns by the entrance. The cats that hadn’t been disturbed by Mousefur’s illness awoke to a far different place from the dark and unwelcoming hollow of the night before. Leafpaw heard them call cheerfully to one another, and spotted Birchkit emerging from a bramble thicket to pounce on a dead leaf.
The sight of the kit playing just as he had done back in the forest, before the prey vanished and they were dulled by starvation, made Leafpaw’s heart lift, and she offered silent thanks to StarClan. She forced the terrifying bloodstained prophecy from her dream to the back of her mind, and told herself that this must be the right place for ThunderClan to settle.
They found Firestar in an open space near the center of the hollow; he had already gathered some of his warriors around him.
“We need to get out there right away and mark our boundaries,” Leafpaw heard Dustpelt meow as they approached. “If we don’t, WindClan and ShadowClan will claim all the woodland—and the prey—before you can say mouse.”
“We need to explore the territory as well,” Sandstorm pointed out. “For all we know, these woods could be crawling with foxes and badgers.”
“Not to mention hawks,” Thornclaw added.
Sandstorm murmured agreement. “I’ll see to the hunting patrols, if you like,” she meowed to Firestar.
The Clan leader gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, that would be great.” Leafpaw felt a little stab of pride to think that her mother was one of the best hunters in the Clan.
Dustpelt flicked his ears. “I’ll take charge of guarding the camp—I don’t like the look of that entrance gap. I’ll get the apprentices and see what we can do with some thorns.”
“And I’ll take care of the boundary patrols,” Brambleclaw offered.
“That’s a huge job,” Firestar warned, “especially as we don’t even know where the boundaries are going to be yet.
Brackenfur, will you and Brambleclaw do that together?”
The two warriors nodded.
“Cloudtail, I want you to take a patrol and work outward from the camp,” the Clan leader ordered. “Report back on anything you think I should know about. It’s not just the boundaries we need to think about—I want to know what’s inside them, too.” Cloudtail agreed with a wave of his tail.
“What about me?” Thornclaw asked.
Cinderpelt limped forward. “Excuse me, Thornclaw.
Firestar, we have a problem.” She quickly told him about Mousefur’s bellyache. “I want to go out and find the right herbs,” she explained, “and then take some to WindClan. All the Clans could have drunk the water, but WindClan is weakest, so they’re most at risk.”
Firestar thought for a moment before he replied. His expression was hard to read, and Leafpaw wondered if he was reluctant to spend time and energy helping another Clan now that they were establishing their new territories.
“We can’t leave WindClan to suffer if there’s something we can do,” Cinderpelt urged.
“All the medicine cats know how to treat bellyache,” Firestar reminded her. “But you’re right, Cinderpelt: WindClan have been through enough, and it’s the kits and elders who’ll suffer. Thornclaw can go with you.”
“Thanks. I’ll just check on Mousefur and the others, and then we’ll go.”
Leafpaw followed Cinderpelt back to Mousefur’s nest.
The brown warrior was asleep, with Sorreltail dozing beside her. Longtail and Goldenflower had joined them; Goldenflower was asleep too, but Longtail raised his head as they approached and pricked his ears toward them as if he could see as clearly as ever.
“Hi, Cinderpelt, Leafpaw,” he greeted them; Leafpaw knew he had recognized them by their scent, but it didn’t stop a thorn-sharp claw of sympathy raking through her.
Sorreltail blinked her eyes open and scrambled to her paws. “I think everything’s fine,” she meowed. “Mousefur’s been asleep ever since you left.”
“Her scent is almost back to normal,” Longtail added.
“Goldenflower’s, too, but I think she drank less of the water to start with.”
Cinderpelt bent her head over Mousefur and then Goldenflower, sniffed them, and listened to their breathing.
“They’ll be okay now,” she meowed, straightening. “You might as well go, Sorreltail. You’ll be needed on one of the patrols. Thanks for staying with Mousefur.”
The young warrior raced off, waving her tail at Leafpaw as she passed.
“What about you, Longtail?” Cinderpelt prompted. “Did you have a bellyache as well?”
“A bit,” mewed the blind warrior. “Sorreltail said it was the water Mothwing gave us. I thought it smelled a bit odd, but when a medicine cat gives it to you—”
“Mistakes happen,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Leafpaw and I are going to look for herbs to restock our supplies in case any other cats show the same symptoms.”
“Good luck,” Longtail meowed. There was a wistful note in his voice, as if he would have liked to come with them to explore the new territory.
The medicine cats went back to the center of the camp, where the warriors were dividing up their patrols. Leafpaw spotted Brambleclaw heading purposefully toward Squirrelflight, but before he reached her, Ashfur bounded over.
“Hey, Squirrelflight!” he meowed. “Sandstorm says she wants you for the hunting patrol.”
“Sure,” Squirrelflight replied.
There was a look of mingled frustration and disappointment in Brambleclaw’s eyes as he watched her pad away, but he didn’t try to stop her. Leafpaw sighed. There was definitely something wrong between the tabby warrior and her sister, though she had no idea what it was.
“Wake up.” Cinderpelt prodded her in the side.
“Thornclaw’s ready. Let’s go.”
Leafpaw’s paws tingled with excitement as they headed for the gap in the rock wall. Dustpelt was giving orders to Spiderpaw and Whitepaw about clearing unwanted thorns from the camp to build a barrier. “I don’t want so much as a mouse to get in and out,” he meowed.
“What, not even cats?” Spiderpaw asked cheekily, waving his tail.
Dustpelt sighed. “We’ll leave a tunnel, mousebrain.”
Leafpaw pushed her way into a patch of ferns, which looked less prickly than the bramble bushes next to it, and paused in the middle, breathing in the strong green scent around her. On the other side, beyond the gap that led into the stone hollow, the unknown forest lay waiting.
No—ThunderClan’s new territory lay waiting.