Erin Hunter - The Fourth Apprentice

“We’re not here to fish,” Cloudtail replied calmly, setting down his moss. “We only want water. You’re not going to deny us that, are you?”

“Are there no streams in your territory?” Graymist demanded.

“The streams have dried up, as you know very well.” Lionblaze saw the tip of Cloudtail’s tail twitch irritably as he answered; the fiery white warrior was finding it hard to control his temper. “We need water from the lake.”

“And we’ll take it whether you like it or not,” Berrynose added, dropping his moss and taking a threatening step forward.

Instantly the four RiverClan cats slid out their claws. “The lake belongs to us,” Otterheart hissed.

Blossompaw’s eyes stretched wide in dismay and Hazeltail stepped forward, thrusting her apprentice behind her. Lionblaze braced himself and unsheathed his claws, ready to spring.

Cloudtail whipped around to face his patrol. “Keep your jaws shut!” he ordered Berrynose.

“Are you going to let them talk to us like that?” Berrynose challenged. “I’m not scared of them, even if you are.”

Cloudtail stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the younger warrior, his eyes like chips of ice. “One more word and you’ll be searching the elders for ticks for the next moon. Understand?”

Lionblaze felt a tingle of shock run beneath his fur. Cloudtail was brisk at the best of times, but he’d never seen him this angry at one of his own Clanmates. It was as if collecting water was the most important thing in the world to Cloudtail-and maybe it was, with his Clan weakened by thirst and getting weaker. Lionblaze wondered what would happen if RiverClan succeeded in preventing the other Clans from getting near the water. Would three of the four Clans die out?

Not waiting for Berrynose’s response, Cloudtail swung around and addressed the RiverClan cats again. “I apologize for my warrior,” he meowed. His voice was tight; Lionblaze could tell what an effort he was making to stay polite. “I think he must have caught a touch of the sun. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d let us take some water.”

For a heartbeat Reedwhisker paused. Lionblaze felt his paws itch with the urge to spring into battle. Cloudtail had warned them that they were too weak to fight, but he didn’t know that Lionblaze was one of the Three and had the power to fight the fiercest battles without getting a single scratch. But I know we’ve got problems enough without fighting one another .

Finally Reedwhisker stepped back, gesturing with his tail for the rest of his patrol to do the same. “Take water, but no fish,” he growled.

We’re not here for fish. How many more times will we have to tell you that? Lionblaze thought.

“Thank you.” Cloudtail dipped his head and padded up to the water’s edge. Lionblaze followed, aware of the hostile gaze of the RiverClan cats boring into his back, watching his every move. His fury welled up again. This is just stupid! Do they think I can smuggle a fish out under my pelt?

He could see that his Clanmates were angry, too; Cloudtail’s tail-tip twitched and Berrynose’s eyes were blazing, though he had the sense to keep quiet. The she-cats’ fur was bristling, and they glared over their shoulders at the RiverClan cats as they padded past.

Lionblaze soaked his moss in the lake water and lapped up a few mouthfuls. It was warm and tasted of earth and weeds, hardly quenching his thirst. He forced himself to swallow, wincing as the gritty liquid slid down his throat. The sun had risen, its harsh rays slashing across the tops of the trees, and there was no sign of a cloud from one horizon to the other.

How much longer can we go on like this?

Jayfeather picked through the herbs in the storage cave at the back of his den. The leaves and stems felt dry and crackly, and their scents were musty. I should be stocking up for leaf-fall , he thought. But how can I when there’s no fresh growth?

The pressure of being ThunderClan’s only medicine cat weighed like a stone in his belly. He remembered all the times he had grumbled about Leafpool telling him what to do. Now he wished that she had never resigned as a medicine cat and gone to live in the warriors’ den. What does it matter that she had kits? She still knows all about herbs, and what to do when a cat is injured.

His pelt prickled with the bitter memory of a few days ago, when Briarpaw had pelted into the camp and skidded to a halt in front of his den.

“Jayfeather!” she panted. “Come quick! Firestar’s hurt!”

“What? Where?”

“A fox got him!” The young apprentice’s voice was shaking with fear. “On the ShadowClan border, near the dead tree.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Inwardly Jayfeather felt just as scared, but he forced himself to sound confident. “Go find Leafpool and tell her.”

Briarpaw let out a startled gasp, but Jayfeather didn’t pause to ask why. Grabbing a few stems of horsetail, he raced out through the thorn tunnel and headed for the ShadowClan border. Only when he was already on his way did he remember that Leafpool wasn’t a medicine cat any longer.

Before he reached the dead tree, the scent of blood led him to his leader. Firestar was lying on his side in a clump of ferns, his breath coming harsh and shallow. Sandstorm and Graystripe were crouched over him while Thornclaw kept watch from the top of a tree stump.

“Thank StarClan!” Sandstorm exclaimed as Jayfeather dashed up. “Firestar, Jayfeather’s here. Just hold on.”

“What happened?” Jayfeather asked, running his paws gently over Firestar’s side. His belly lurched as he discovered a long gash with blood still pulsing out of it.

“We were patrolling, and a fox leaped out at us,” Graystripe replied. “We chased it off, but…” His voice choked.

“Find some cobwebs,” Jayfeather ordered. He began to chew up the horsetail to make a poultice. Where’s Leafpool? he asked himself in agony. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing .

He patted the poultice onto the gash in his leader’s side, binding it with the cobwebs that Graystripe thrust into his paws, but before he had finished he heard Firestar’s breathing grow slower and slower, until at last it stopped.

“He’s losing a life,” Sandstorm whispered.

Jayfeather went on numbly fixing the poultice in place, so that when Firestar recovered he wouldn’t lose any more blood. The time seemed to stretch out unnaturally, and Jayfeather’s mind whirled as he tried to count up how many lives his leader had left.

That wasn’t his last life, was it? It couldn’t be!

He had almost given up hope, when Firestar gave a cough, his breathing started up again, and he raised his head. “Thanks, Jayfeather,” he mewed weakly. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine in a few heartbeats.”

But as Firestar set off back to camp, leaning on Graystripe’s shoulder, with Sandstorm padding along anxiously on his other side and Thornclaw bringing up the rear, Jayfeather hadn’t been able to forgive himself. I needed Leafpool, and she wasn’t here . His former mentor hadn’t appeared until they were within sight of the stone hollow. She had been hunting on the WindClan border, and it had taken Briarpaw all that time to find her.

“You did your best,” she reassured Jayfeather when he told her what had happened. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

But Jayfeather wasn’t convinced; he knew that Leafpool would have saved Firestar if she had been there.