But when Leafpaw looked up, the sky was dark and starlit.
The lake was filled with blood!
The voices called to her again, this time loud enough for her to hear, even though she wished she hadn’t almost before they had finished speaking: Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red.
Leafpaw sprang up to run away, but her paws slipped in the sticky blood, and the stench of death engulfed her. With a gasp she opened her eyes. She was on the edge of the Moonpool again, her belly pressed flat against the cold stone, and beside her lay the other medicine cats. They were stirring and stretching, waking from their own dreams. The moon was dipping below the hilltop; Leafpaw’s legs, stiff from crouching so long in one position, confirmed how much time had passed.
Barkface and Littlecloud both looked very troubled; Leafpaw wondered if they had received warnings like hers.
Cinderpelt was studying Leafpaw with concern in her eyes, while Mothwing kept her gaze fixed on her paws.
Leafpaw guessed they would set out for their camps at once. She wanted to talk to Cinderpelt alone, wary of announcing her vision to the other medicine cats. But instead of leading the way back up the path, Cinderpelt sat down again on the edge of the Moonpool.
“Before we go back to our Clans,” she began, “I have one more task to do.” She waited until the other cats were sitting too, their faces turned attentively to her.
Leafpaw wondered what this was all about, since Cinderpelt hadn’t said anything to her on the way. Mothwing shot her a worried glance, and Leafpaw replied with a tiny shake of the head; she hadn’t revealed Mothwing’s lack of faith to Cinderpelt or any cat.
“Clan warriors receive their warrior name when their mentor thinks they are ready,” Cinderpelt continued. “It is the same for medicine cats.” With a glint in her eyes she turned to Leafpaw and asked, “Did you think you would have to wait for me to die before you received your name?”
Leafpaw was so taken aback she didn’t reply. She hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe she had assumed that, yes. But being an apprentice medicine cat was different from being an apprentice warrior; Leafpaw could use healing herbs and share tongues with StarClan just as much as the other medicine cats. A pulse of excitement went through her as she guessed what might be coming next.
“A medicine cat receives her name when StarClan decides she deserves it,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Leafpaw, the fact that our warrior ancestors brought you to the Moonpool first shows how highly they regard you.”
“That’s true,” Barkface rumbled.
Littlecloud let out a purr of agreement; Mothwing’s eyes were brilliant and she leaped up to press her muzzle against Leafpaw’s side. In the midst of her excitement, Leafpaw realized it was a good thing Mothwing already had her full name; how could StarClan show their approval of a cat who did not believe in them?
“Come forward.” Cinderpelt beckoned to Leafpaw with her tail.
Leafpaw hardly knew which paw to move first as she stumbled around the Moonpool until she stood in front of her mentor.
Cinderpelt tipped back her head and gazed at Silverpelt.
“I, Cinderpelt, medicine cat of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the way of a medicine cat, and with your help she will serve her Clan for many moons.”
The words were familiar to Leafpaw from the warrior ceremonies she had seen for her Clanmates. Her paws tingled, as if starlight scorched her fur.
“Leafpaw, do you promise to uphold the ways of a medicine cat, to stand apart from rivalry between Clan and Clan, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your true name as a medicine cat. Leafpaw, from this moment you will be known as Leafpool. StarClan honors your courage and your faith. By finding this place, you have proved this is truly our new home.”
Just as a Clan leader would do at a warrior ceremony, Cinderpelt rested her muzzle on Leafpool’s head. Her head full of stars, Leafpool bent to lick her mentor’s shoulder.
“Leafpool! Leafpool!” Mothwing called, and Barkface and Littlecloud joined in.
Leafpool bowed her head. “Thank you—all of you. My paws were guided by StarClan in everything I have done, and I hope they will continue to guide me for the rest of my life.”
“May StarClan grant that it is so,” murmured Barkface, and the others echoed his prayer.
All except Mothwing, but when Leafpool looked at her, the RiverClan cat’s face was filled with such pride and affection that she knew Mothwing was as pleased for her as any cat. Right then, it didn’t matter a whisker that she didn’t share their beliefs.
As she followed the other cats out of the hollow and down the rocky slope, Leafpool felt so full of energy, so committed all over again to the way of a medicine cat, that she half thought she would be able to fly back to the hollow in the woods if she tried. She let the others go ahead, and padded along with her thoughts full of starlight and herbs and water that tasted of the night sky.
Suddenly she felt something sticky dragging at her legs, and her paws skidded in a slippery, viscous liquid. She looked down; there was nothing but short moorland grass under her paws, but the stench of death rose up around her, and though she knew the slope was clear and dry, she felt as if she were wading through a river of blood, running hot and scarlet from the overflowing, death-scented lake.
Chapter 20
Brambleclaw halted at the edge of the lake and gazed across the stream into ShadowClan’s territory. The pine forest on the far side of the stream was a blue-black shadow against the heavy gray sky. No cats were in sight, but the damp wind brought a powerful reek toward him: the old, familiar ShadowClan scent, nearly as strong as it had ever been.
It was one more sign that all the cats were settling into their new territories. An even more powerful sign was the discovery of the Moonpool. Early that morning Cinderpelt and the newly named Leafpool had returned from the medicine cats’ first meeting with StarClan, and in two nights’ time Onewhisker would receive the nine lives of a leader at last.
“Yuck!” exclaimed Rainwhisker. “I’ll never get used to the way ShadowClan smells. It’s like a fox that’s been dead for a moon.”
“I don’t suppose they’re too keen on our scent, either,” Brambleclaw pointed out.
A splash and a startled yowl behind him interrupted him.
He glanced around to see Spiderleg standing in the lake with water lapping halfway up his legs.
“Great StarClan, what are you doing?”
Spiderleg waded back to the shore, hanging his head in embarrassment. “I saw a fish,” he explained, and added unnecessarily, “It got away.”
Brambleclaw sighed. “You don’t catch fish like that.
Remind me sometime to give you a lesson. Feathertail taught us when we were on our journey.” The familiar ache tugged at his heart when he remembered the beautiful RiverClan she-cat. “Come on; we’d better finish patrolling this border.”
He turned to head upstream, and stopped when he caught sight of something moving on the ShadowClan side. A gray cat had emerged from the trees and was racing along the lakeshore toward him. Brambleclaw’s eyes widened in surprise when he recognized Mistyfoot. What was a RiverClan cat doing in ShadowClan territory?
“Brambleclaw, wait!” she yowled. She splashed through the stream as if it weren’t there and skidded to a halt in front of him, panting. “I’ve got to talk to Firestar right away.”
Spiderleg stepped forward, his neck fur bristling. “What are you doing on our territory?”