Finleap followed her in and surveyed the nests circled around the central stem. “Where shall I sleep?”
Violetshine sniffed the bedding until she found two nests that smelled stale. “These haven’t been slept in for a while.” She realized with a pang that one of them was Twigbranch’s old nest. Suddenly she missed her sister with a longing she thought had faded. “Is Twigbranch happy in ThunderClan?” she asked as she climbed into it.
“Yes.” Finleap hopped into the nest beside her and sat down. “She seems at home there.”
“Are you?”
“I’m still getting used to it,” Finleap mewed. “But I like being near Twigbranch.” He paused, his gaze unreadable as night swallowed the den. “Although I think I was wrong to assume she wanted the same things as me.”
“What do you mean?” Violetshine blinked at him. “Aren’t you close anymore?”
“We’re still close.” There was sadness in Finleap’s mew.
Violetshine was puzzled. “I thought you’d be mates by now.”
“So did I.” Finleap shifted in his nest. Violetshine could hardly see him in the darkness. “Twigbranch is just focused on her apprentice. She doesn’t want a mate.” Bracken crunched as he settled down. “I’m probably being selfish. Maybe I should be focusing on my apprentice too.”
“Twigbranch was always serious about being a good warrior.” Violetshine kept her mew bright. “I’m sure she loves you.”
“Yeah.”
As her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness, she could see the silhouette of his ears. “Was Reedclaw glad to see you?”
“Yes.” He sounded cheerier. “She’s nearly well enough to leave the medicine den.”
“I didn’t think Leafstar would be so upset about you visiting.”
“Harrybrook and Bellaleaf seemed ruffled too, but I don’t think it was about me coming back. What did Hawkwing mean when he said I’d caught Leafstar at a bad time?”
Worry crept along Violetshine’s spine as she remembered how badly the meeting had gone. They were closer than ever to war with ShadowClan. And Tree had been humiliated. What if he left? The thought made her feel sick.
“Violetshine?” Finleap’s mew jerked her from her thoughts. “Is something wrong in SkyClan?”
“No,” she answered quickly. It felt disloyal to reveal SkyClan’s problems to a ThunderClan warrior, even Finleap. “Everything is fine.” As she blinked into the darkness, her paws pricked anxiously.
She hoped she was telling the truth.
CHAPTER 10
Alderheart’s pelt prickled. He still didn’t feel all that comfortable in ShadowClan’s camp. Even here, alone in the medicine den with Puddleshine, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. He pressed a small morsel of deathberry to Puddleshine’s lips. When the unconscious tom didn’t stir, he gently pried his teeth open and slipped the dark flesh through the gap. Puddleshine didn’t even twitch. His head felt heavy, like dead weight against Alderheart’s paws as he laid it back on the edge of his nest.
The sun had set and evening was fast turning to night. Darkness was pressing at the edges of the medicine den. Puddleshine hadn’t regained consciousness since Juniperclaw and Sparrowtail had carried him back to the ShadowClan camp that morning. His breathing was shallower, and his fur was damp. Heat throbbed from his pelt and flooded Alderheart with fear. Would Puddleshine make it through the night? What would Tigerstar do if the ShadowClan medicine cat died?
Alderheart blinked the thoughts away. The deathberries had to work. The dream had promised that they would. Fire had made way for fresh growth. StarClan wouldn’t mislead him, would they? He pushed the thought away. He mustn’t doubt StarClan. They’d always been with him, he was sure, even before they’d sent him his very first vision, the one that had led him in search of SkyClan.
And yet worry sat like a stone in his belly as he buried the seeds he’d stripped from the berry. When he was sure they were safely disposed of, he scraped leaves from a small patch of earth he’d clawed up at the other side of the den. He wiped his paws in the crumbly dirt until they were clean and then carefully swept the leaves back to cover the poisoned patch. Finally he wrapped the berries back in their dock leaf and tucked them beneath Puddleshine’s nest.
He’d carried the berries to the ShadowClan camp, hidden in a bundle of tansy and marigold. Tigerstar hadn’t forbidden Alderheart from continuing with his treatment, but he hadn’t given permission either. Alderheart didn’t dare ask. He couldn’t risk Tigerstar saying no. The deathberries were his only hope. And yet they still showed no sign of working. He could only wait and pray to StarClan.
Frustration itched beneath his pelt. He felt powerless, and Tigerstar’s threats had made it worse. Didn’t he realize that any cat’s death was punishment enough for a medicine cat? Warriors were so rabbit-brained. They missed what was truly important in their scrabble for power and territory. Outside, he could hear Cloverfoot and Scorchfur murmuring to each other in hushed voices as they guarded the entrance. Tigerstar had ordered them not to leave their posts and promised to keep the medicine den guarded day and night. As if I might run away from a sick cat who needs treatment!
Growling to himself, Alderheart padded to a crevice in the bramble wall of the den where Puddleshine kept his herb store. He might as well make himself useful and sort through Puddleshine’s herbs. Reaching in, he scooped out the dried bundles and separated the leaves, making piles for each herb. Some crumbled in his paws; others were stiff and dry. It had clearly been a while since Puddleshine last collected fresh stores, before he got his infection. Carefully, Alderheart began to strip out the driest herbs—herbs that could no longer hold healing powers—and lay them to one side.
“What are you doing?” Cloverfoot thrust her head into the den. Her nose twitched. “Do you need those?” Her eyes sparked with indignation as she saw the leaves laid out in front of Alderheart.
He met her gaze levelly. “I’m clearing out the useless herbs.”
“How do I know you’re not destroying Puddleshine’s stocks?” she snapped.
“Why would I do that?” Alderheart glared at her. “I’m a medicine cat, not a warrior. I don’t want to harm any cat.”
Cloverfoot’s gaze flicked toward Puddleshine. “What about him? You fed him deathberries.”
“To cure him.” Alderheart snorted. “Do you seriously think I’d try to kill your medicine cat?”
She narrowed her eyes. “If we lose him, the whole of ShadowClan will suffer.”
“That’s why I’m trying to save him,” Alderheart hissed. “And because he’s a friend. But you’re not a medicine cat. You wouldn’t understand the bond we share.”
She eyed him wordlessly for a moment, then slid into the den. “Perhaps I don’t understand,” she meowed, “but I’m going to watch you sort those herbs, just to make sure you don’t ruin them.”
Scorchfur peered through the entrance. “Is everything okay in there?”
“It’s fine,” Cloverfoot told him. “I’m just watching Alderheart sort herbs.”
Alderheart forced his fur to stay flat as Scorchfur withdrew and Cloverfoot sat down at the edge of the den and stared at him. Slowly he carried on picking out useless herbs. “You need to gather more thyme,” he told Cloverfoot without looking up. “These leaves are so dry, there can’t be much strength left in them.”