Erin Hunter - The Fourth Apprentice

I can’t believe that mangy flea-pelt is my half brother!

The bramble screen rustled as a cat brushed past it; Jayfeather recognized Dustpelt’s scent.

“I’ve come for more of those herbs,” Dustpelt announced, then added reluctantly, “My back feels much better today, so they must have done some good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jayfeather replied. “Hang on, and I’ll get them.”

As he headed for the storage cleft at the back of the den, Dustpelt called after him, “I don’t want them if another cat needs them more.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jayfeather replied. He collected a few leaves of tansy and some of daisy from the store and headed back to the tabby warrior. “Eat those,” he ordered, pushing the tansy toward his Clanmate.

While Dustpelt was licking up the herbs, Jayfeather chewed up the daisy leaves and made a poultice to spread on the base of the ThunderClan warrior’s spine, where the pain was worst.

“Thanks,” Dustpelt meowed. As he was heading out of the den he paused, acute embarrassment flooding from his pelt. “Ferncloud said I had to thank you from her, too. She said I was being really annoying, complaining about backache without doing anything about it.”

“Surely not,” Jayfeather murmured, faintly amused, as the tabby warrior padded off toward the warriors’ den.

The sound of Dustpelt’s paw steps had hardly died away when another cat popped her head around the bramble screen.

“Hi, Cinderheart,” Jayfeather mewed, breathing in her scent and picking up her anxiety along with it. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Poppyfrost,” the gray she-cat replied, slipping into the den.

“What’s the matter with her?” Alarm leaped in Jayfeather like a jumping fish. “Is it her kits?”

“Oh, no, she’s doing well physically,” Cinderheart told him. “Her belly is about the right size, and there’s no sign of fever or vomiting.”

“Good,” Jayfeather murmured. And you would know-Cinderpelt , he added privately to himself. Only he and Leafpool knew the strange truth about Cinderheart, that she had lived in ThunderClan before as the medicine cat Cinderpelt, who had died saving Sorreltail from a badger at the moment Cinderheart was born. Cinderheart had no idea why she knew so much about herbs, or why memories of ThunderClan’s former home haunted her dreams. Leafpool and Jayfeather had agreed long ago not to tell her; she was a warrior in her own right, and if StarClan had chosen to give Cinderpelt a second chance, they would not interfere.

“It’s just that she’s so quiet and sad,” Cinderheart went on. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

Jayfeather was puzzled. What sort of help does she expect? “I don’t want to give Poppyfrost herbs,” he began, “not when she’s expecting kits, unless it’s really urgent.”

“Yes, but-”

“You told me she’s not ill,” Jayfeather went on, ignoring the she-cat’s protest. “If everything’s okay-”

“It’s not okay,” Cinderheart interrupted in her turn. “Nothing’s okay,” she added wretchedly. “Oh, Jayfeather, I miss Hollyleaf so much!”

Jayfeather felt as though some cat had hurled a rock into his belly. He tried hard every day not to think about his sister, and every day he failed. “So do I,” he replied quietly.

“Yes, you must.” Cinderheart’s tone was full of sympathy. “Losing a littermate is the worst thing ever. Maybe that’s why Poppyfrost is so sad, because Honeyfern’s gone.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Jayfeather.”

She turned and padded out of the den; Jayfeather pictured her head drooping and her tail trailing in the dust. When she had gone, he slipped inside the storage cleft again and turned over his dwindling stock of herbs. Poppy seed…tansy…borage… No, there’s nothing here that will help a cat who’s just sad . And there was nothing any cat could say or do that would stop Poppyfrost from grieving for her dead sister.

Curling up in his nest of moss and fern, Jayfeather let himself drift into sleep and turned his paws in the direction of Poppyfrost’s dreams. To his surprise, he found himself on the steep, rocky path leading to the Moonpool. The moon shed its pale light over the boulders and moorland grass on either side, and it gleamed on the tortoiseshell fur of the young cat slipping quietly ahead of him.

“Poppyfrost!” Jayfeather called.

The young cat started, then slowly turned to face him; starlight glittered in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Jayfeather asked her.

Poppyfrost seemed unsurprised to see that he was the cat who was following her. “I’ve dreamed of this mountain path so many times since Honeyfern died,” she explained. “I want to see her so much, and I can hear her calling to me from somewhere up there.” She nodded to the top of the ridge, silhouetted against the star-filled sky.

Jayfeather pricked his ears, straining in an effort to hear the young she-cat’s voice. But there was nothing except the faint whisper of the wind over the grass. “I can’t hear her,” he meowed.

“I can.” Poppyfrost was calm and clear-eyed as she spoke, though her voice betrayed her longing for her dead sister.

Jayfeather’s paws tingled. Poppyfrost had set her paws on a path that was walked only by medicine cats. “You should come back to the hollow,” he told her. He remembered how he had saved her life a long time ago, by guiding her back from StarClan when she was a tiny kit with greencough. She had come willingly enough then, not ready to leave behind the Clanmates she had only just begun to know. “This place isn’t for you.”

“No, I must go on!” Poppyfrost spun around and ran up the narrow track, faster and faster until she vanished into a swirl of mist. Her voice drifted faintly back to him. “I have to see Honeyfern!”

Jayfeather woke with a jolt, his paws scrabbling among churned-up moss. Warm air stirred against his face, telling him that the sun was already up. His pads ached as though he had really spent the night trekking into the mountains. Yawning, he dragged himself out of his nest and padded into the clearing. Sunrays were spilling through the trees above the camp, scorching the bare ground. Jayfeather tried to picture the hollow as it had been, green and cool, knowing that everything now would be parched to a brittle brown.

A worm of worry was gnawing at his belly. Trying to ignore it, he padded across to the nursery and stuck his head inside the entrance. He could hear the soft breathing of sleeping cats, and he scented Ferncloud, Daisy, and Poppyfrost huddled together in a mound of fur. Slightly reassured, he crept away without disturbing them.

But I’ll keep an eye on Poppyfrost , he decided.

“This is a dock leaf,” Jayfeather announced, snagging it in his claws and holding it up so that all the apprentices could see it.

“Like we don’t know,” Ivypaw muttered.

Jayfeather bit back a stinging rebuke. He knew that the young apprentice was still grumpy because Dovepaw had gone on the mission without her, and he couldn’t entirely blame her. But Firestar had asked him to give all the apprentices some basic training in the use of herbs, and Ivypaw had to learn the same things as the others, whether she liked it or not.

“Dock leaves are good for rubbing on sore pads,” he went on, ignoring the young cat’s bad temper for now. “And you can find them pretty well anywhere, so they’re one of the most useful herbs.”

“So, like, if we went on a long journey, we should look out for dock?” Bumblepaw asked.

Oops, you shouldn’t have said that , Jayfeather thought, as Ivypaw let out an angry hiss at her denmate.