Эрин Хантер: Lost Stars

“I can’t remember a leaf-bare as cold as this,” Yarrowleaf complained as she dropped a blackbird on the fresh-kill pile.

Strikestone nodded, shivering as he fluffed out his brown tabby pelt. “No wonder there’s no prey. They’re all hiding down their holes, and I can’t blame them.”

As Shadowpaw moved on, out of earshot, he couldn’t help noticing how pitifully small the fresh-kill pile was, and he tried to ignore his own growling belly. He could hardly remember his first leaf-bare, when he’d been a tiny kit, so he didn’t know if the older cats were right and the weather was unusually cold.

I only know I don’t like it, he grumbled to himself as he picked his way through the icy slush that covered the ground of the camp. My paws are so cold I think they’ll drop off. I can’t wait for newleaf!

Puddleshine ducked out of the entrance to the medicine cats’ den as Shadowpaw approached. “Good, you’re ready,” he meowed. “We’d better hurry, or we’ll be late.” As he led the way toward the camp entrance, he added, “I’ve been checking our herb stores, and they’re getting dangerously low.”

“We could search for more on the way back,” Shadowpaw suggested, his medicine-cat duties driving out his thoughts of cold and hunger. He always enjoyed working with Puddleshine to find, sort, and store the herbs. Treating cats with herbs made him feel calm and in control . . . the opposite of how he felt during his seizures and the accompanying visions.

“We can try,” Puddleshine sighed. “But what isn’t frostbitten will be covered with snow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Shadowpaw as the two cats headed out into the forest. “This is turning out to be a really bad leaf-bare. And it isn’t over yet, not by a long way.”

Excitement tingled through Shadowpaw from ears to tail-tip as he scrambled up the rocky slope toward the line of bushes that surrounded the Moonpool hollow. His worries over his seizures and the bitter leaf-bare faded; every hair on his pelt was bristling with anticipation of his meeting with the other medicine cats, and most of all with StarClan.

He might not be a full medicine cat yet, and he might not be fully in control of his visions . . . but he would still get to meet with his warrior ancestors. And from the rest of the medicine cats he would find out what was going on in the other Clans.

Standing at the top of the slope, waiting for Puddleshine to push his way through the bushes, Shadowpaw reflected on the last few moons. Things had been tense in ShadowClan as every cat settled into their new boundaries and grew used to sharing a border with SkyClan. Not long ago, SkyClan had lived separately from the other Clans, in a far-flung territory in a gorge. But StarClan had called SkyClan back to join the other Clans by the lake, because the Clans were stronger when all five were united. Still, SkyClan had needed its own territory, which had meant new borders for everyone, and it had taken time for the other Clans to accept them. Shadowpaw was relieved that things seemed more peaceful now; the brutally cold leaf-bare had given all the Clans more to worry about than quarreling with one another. They were even beginning to rely on one another, especially in sharing herbs when the cold weather had damaged so many of the plants they needed. Shadowpaw felt proud that they were all getting along, instead of battling one another for every piece of prey.

That wasn’t a great start to Tigerstar’s leadership. . . . I’m glad it’s over now!

“Are you going to stand out there all night?”

At the sound of Puddleshine’s voice from the other side of the bushes, Shadowpaw dived in among the branches, wincing as sharp twigs scraped along his pelt, and thrust himself out onto the ledge above the Moonpool. Opposite him, halfway up the rocky wall of the hollow, a trickle of water bubbled out from between two moss-covered boulders. The water fell down into the pool below, with a fitful glimmer as if the stars themselves were trapped inside it. The rippling surface of the pool shone silver with reflected moonlight.

Shadowpaw wanted to leap into the air with excitement at being back at the Moonpool, but he fought to hold on to some self-control, and padded down the spiral path to the water’s edge with all the dignity expected of a medicine cat. Awe welled up inside him as he felt his paws slip into the hollows made by cats countless seasons before.

Who were they? Where did they go? he wondered.

The two ThunderClan medicine cats were already sitting beside the pool. Shadowpaw guessed it was too cold to wait outside for everyone to arrive, as the medicine cats usually did. Alderheart was thoughtfully grooming his chest fur, while Jayfeather’s tail-tip twitched back and forth in irritation. He turned his blind blue gaze on Puddleshine and Shadowpaw as they reached the bottom of the hollow.

“You took your time,” he snapped. “We’re wasting moonlight.”

Shadowpaw realized that Kestrelflight of WindClan and Mothwing and Willowshine, the two RiverClan medicine cats, were sitting just beyond the two from ThunderClan. The shadow of a rock had hidden them from him until now.

“Nice to see you, too, Jayfeather,” Puddleshine responded mildly. “I’m sorry if we’re late, but I don’t see Frecklewish or Fidgetflake, either.”

Jayfeather gave a disdainful sniff. “If they’re not here soon, we’ll start without them.”

Would Jayfeather really do that? Shadowpaw was still staring at the ThunderClan medicine cat, wondering, when a rustling from the top of the slope put him on alert. Looking up, he saw Frecklewish pushing her way through the bushes, followed closely by Fidgetflake.

“At last!” Jayfeather hissed.

He’s in a mood, Shadowpaw thought, then added to himself with a flicker of amusement, Nothing new there, then.

As the two SkyClan medicine cats padded down the slope, Shadowpaw noticed how thin and weary they both looked. For a heartbeat he wondered if there was anything wrong in SkyClan. Then he realized that he and the rest of the medicine cats looked just as skinny, just as worn out by the trials of leaf-bare.

Frecklewish dipped her head to her fellow medicine cats as she joined them beside the pool. “Greetings,” she mewed, her fatigue clear in her voice. “How is the prey running in your Clans?”

For a moment no cat replied, and Shadowpaw could sense their uneasiness. None of them wants to admit that their Clan is having problems.

Shadowpaw was surprised when Puddleshine, who was normally so pensive, was the first to speak up. Maybe the cold had banished his mentor’s reserve and enabled him to be honest.

“The hunting is very poor in ShadowClan,” he replied; Shadowpaw felt a twinge of alarm at how discouraged his mentor sounded. “If this freezing cold goes on much longer, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

The remaining medicine cats exchanged glances of relief, as if they were glad to learn their Clan wasn’t the only one suffering.

Willowshine nodded in agreement. “Many RiverClan cats are getting sick because it’s so cold.”

“In ThunderClan too,” Alderheart murmured.

“We’re running out of herbs,” Fidgetflake added with a twitch of his whiskers. “And the few we have left are shriveled and useless.”

Frecklewish gave her Clanmate a sympathetic glance. “I’ve heard some of the younger warriors joking about running off to be kittypets,” she meowed.

“No cat had better say that in my hearing.” Jayfeather drew his lips back in the beginning of a snarl. “Or they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

“Keep your fur on, Jayfeather,” Frecklewish responded. “It was only a joke. All SkyClan cats are loyal to their Clan.”