“He’s had fits before,” Tigerstar growled.
Shadowkit twitched violently beneath Alderheart’s paws.
“We’ve seen this before.” Dovewing didn’t take her eyes from her kit. “When we were on our way back to the lake, he would have visions—they came with seizures like this. We had thought they were getting better.” Her voice dropped to an anxious murmur. “But, if anything, they’re getting worse . . .”
Beneath the steadying paws, Shadowkit’s spasms eased. Alderheart thrust his muzzle close, relieved to feel the kit’s breath on his nose. Heat pulsed from his thin pelt. “When he stops twitching, wash him to cool him down.” Alderheart felt Shadowkit’s legs grow still. He sat back on his haunches. “I don’t know how to prevent the seizures, but thyme will ease his shock.”
The entrance trembled as Cloverfoot slid through. She dropped two stalks of thyme beside Alderheart. Alderheart bent to nip leaves from the stems so he could chew them into a pulp that Shadowkit could swallow.
“Wait.” Tigerstar nudged him away and sniffed the leaves.
Dovewing stared at Tigerstar in disbelief. “Don’t you trust him?”
Cloverfoot edged forward. “You can trust him,” she mewed softly. “He treated Stonewing and Hollowkit earlier. He seemed to know what he was doing. I watched him. He only wants to help.”
Tigerstar narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Alderheart ignored him. “The thyme will soothe him,” he told Dovewing. “When he comes around, chew up a few leaves—”
“And make him swallow them,” Dovewing murmured. “I remember Puddleshine giving him thyme before.”
Alderheart gave a nod. “If he has fits in the future, just hold him so he’s safe and cool him down as much as you can.”
With a final twitch, Shadowkit fell limp at the bottom of the nest like a leaf coming to rest after a storm. Dovewing bent to lick him as Tigerstar shook out his pelt. The ShadowClan leader smoothed his ruffled fur with a few laps, but Alderheart could still smell the brown tabby’s fear-scent. His pelt prickled with frustration. Until I know what caused the kit’s convulsions, I can only treat the symptoms.
A small mew sounded in the nest. “Dovewing?” Shadowkit slowly opened his eyes and gazed at his mother.
She buried her nose in the soft fur behind his ear. “Are you okay?” she asked, a break in her mew. “You scared us.”
“I’ll be all right.” Shadowkit rolled onto his paws and pushed himself up. Weakly he blinked at Tigerstar. “I had another vision.”
Dovewing reached for the thyme and began chewing the leaves. “Eat this.” She held her muzzle close to Shadowkit’s.
He ducked away from her. “Not until I’ve told you about my vision.”
Dovewing and Tigerstar exchanged anxious glances.
“Go and check on the kits,” Tigerstar told Cloverfoot. He flicked his tail, and she dipped her head and left. Alderheart was burning with curiosity. Was StarClan sending a message through Shadowkit? Tigerstar looked at him. “You’d better leave too.”
Alderheart dug his claws into the needle-strewn floor. “I’m a medicine cat. I should hear this.”
Tigerstar growled. “You’re a ThunderClan medicine—”
Shadowkit cut him off. “Can he stay? He’s a medicine cat—he might know what it means.”
Dovewing nodded. “He should stay,” she agreed.
Tigerstar shifted his paws. “Okay.” His dark gaze fixed on Shadowkit. “What did you see?”
“It was raining on RiverClan land.” The kit’s mew was weak. Dovewing pressed against him, supporting him with her flank as he went on. “I was in the marshes there, and the rain kept getting heavier and heavier. The sky was black with clouds, and I could barely see the trees for the rain. It got worse until I could feel water pressing against my fur, in my ears, in my nose.” The kit shivered, fear showing in his eyes. “It was in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe and then” —as he paused again, Dovewing wrapped her tail around him with a sob—“everything went black.”
Dread ran like icy water along Alderheart’s spine. He stared at the kit, his mouth dry.
“What does it mean?” Shadowkit blinked at him.
“I’m not sure.” Alderheart shifted his paws uneasily. “It might just be a nightmare brought on by the fit.”
“Of course,” Dovewing mewed brightly. She settled into her nest and pulled Shadowkit protectively against her belly. “It was just a dumb nightmare.”
“It didn’t feel like a nightmare,” Shadowkit whimpered.
“Eat the thyme,” Alderheart told him. “And rest with Dovewing. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“My head hurts.” Shadowkit’s eyes were dark.
“I’ll fetch some poppy seeds. They’ll ease the pain.” Alderheart staggered out of the den, his mind swimming and his legs quivering, as if they could barely hold him up. He could think of only one meaning for Shadowkit’s vision, and it filled him with dread.
The kit was going to die.
“Was it just a nightmare?” Tigerstar’s mew startled him. The ShadowClan leader had followed him out and was staring at him in the moonlight.
Alderheart tensed. “I hope so.”
Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. “But you think it meant something else.”
Alderheart dropped his gaze. How do you tell a father that his kit has seen his own death? “I-I don’t know,” he mumbled.
“Is he going to drown, like Flametail?” Grief glittered in the ShadowClan leader’s eyes, the fur around his neck spiking. Alderheart knew it must be hard for Tigerstar to remember his brother, who had fallen through the ice on the lake and been trapped there.
“I can’t predict the future.” Alderheart’s belly tightened. “But he did see something dark. Something that must be avoided.”
“His own death?”
Alderheart tore his gaze away from the stricken leader. It frightened him to see such a strong cat so scared. “I don’t know.” How could he tell Tigerstar he might be right? And what if Shadowkit’s vision did come true? Tigerstar was already threatening to destabilize the Clans by putting pressure on SkyClan. With a shiver, he wondered what terrible vengeance a grieving father would wreak upon the forest.
CHAPTER 11
Twigbranch glanced anxiously around the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of Finleap’s pelt. Overhead, sunshine flickered between the branches. As she breathed the musty scents of the forest, a soft breeze swirled dead leaves around her paws.
“Have you seen Finleap?” Flypaw looked at her eagerly.
“He went out early.” Twigbranch’s ears twitched uneasily. It was midmorning and Finleap had still not come home. But Flypaw seemed unconcerned. Her gaze was flitting around the forest, alighting one moment on a leaf fluttering in the morning breeze, another moment on a bird as it hopped along a branch overhead.
“Snappaw says he was supposed to do battle training with Finleap this morning, but Finleap wasn’t even in his nest.” Flypaw darted forward and slapped her paws down to trap a quivering fern stem.
“He left before dawn.” Twigbranch hated lying, but she wanted to protect Finleap until she’d had a chance to find out where he’d gone. She’d brought Flypaw along the beech trail this morning because it still smelled of Finleap’s scent. He must have come this way yesterday, before he disappeared. Her paws pricked with worry. Should she report him missing? Perhaps he needed help. If we don’t find him before sunhigh, I’ll tell Bramblestar he’s gone.
She tasted the air. Finleap’s scent trail lingered here, but it was stale. Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the shafts of sunshine, which slanted between the trees, and scanned the forest. Her heart ached for a glimpse of his brown pelt. Where is he?