Erin Hunter - Long Shadows

“Sorry,” Lionblaze muttered. I can’t do anything right today!

“It might have escaped your notice,” Dustpelt went on with biting sarcasm, “but we have four new mouths to feed.

And several of our own cats are sick, so they can’t help with patrols.”

Lionblaze nodded. He realized that the tabby warrior was angry because he was worried. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated.

“We’ll get going right away.”

“See that you do,” Dustpelt sniffed as he stalked off.

As he tasted the air, ears pricked for the sound of prey, Lionblaze knew Hollyleaf was right. They had to help ShadowClan so that Tawnypelt and the apprentices could go home, and ThunderClan could concentrate on making itself strong again.

Lionblaze worked hard for the rest of the hunt, but most of the prey was still hidden in their holes. By sunhigh, when the patrol returned to camp, he had only caught two mice and a shrew. He dropped the meager offering on the fresh-kill pile and padded off to find Jaypaw. After checking the medicine cats’ den and not finding him there, Lionblaze finally tracked him down in the elders’ den.

“Look, Mousefur,” Jaypaw was saying as Lionblaze ducked under the low branches of the hazel bush, “these tansy leaves should stop you getting greencough. Why don’t you want to eat them?”

Mousefur gave the leaves a push with one paw. “I told you, I don’t need them. Stop fussing over me and keep them for cats who are really sick.”

“Jaypaw doesn’t want you to get sick,” Longtail tried to explain.

Mousefur gave him an angry flick with her tail. “Since when were you a medicine cat?”

Jaypaw let out an exasperated sigh. “Mousefur, for the last time—”

“The last time?” Mousefur snapped. “Good. Go away.” She pointedly turned her back.

Jaypaw dug his claws into the floor of the den and spoke through gritted teeth. “Mousefur. I am not leaving this den until you eat these herbs.” He was obviously trying hard to hang on to his temper.

“Come on, Mousefur,” Lionblaze meowed cheerfully. “Stop being such a grump and just eat the stuff.”

Mousefur whipped around and glared at him. Lionblaze tensed, ready to feel her claws raking his pelt. He couldn’t fight back if an elder of his own Clan attacked him. Then Mousefur gave him an abrupt nod, bent her head, and licked up the leaves, chewing and swallowing with a disgusted expression on her face. “Satisfied?” she grunted, then curled up and wrapped her tail over her nose.

“I don’t believe it,” Jaypaw muttered, as Longtail let out a tiny snort of amusement and curled up beside the dusky brown elder. “Thanks for helping,” he added as he and his brother emerged from the den.

Lionblaze shrugged. “No problem. We need to talk about the fake sign.”

Jaypaw’s neck fur started to bristle. “I wish there were ten of me, I’ve got so much to do. Our den is full with Millie and Briarkit, but we really need to take Thornclaw out of the warriors’ den because he’s sick, too, and Foxpaw has started coughing. I don’t know how we’re going to cope.”

Anger surged through Lionblaze; he lashed his tail and dug his claws into the earth. He could fight an ordinary enemy, but there was no way he could protect his Clanmates against the sickness.

“It’ll be easier if we don’t have the extra ShadowClan mouths to feed,” he pointed out. And if Sol leaves ShadowClan so he can mentor us like he promised .

Jaypaw gave a grudging nod. “True. Okay, what about the sign?”

Lionblaze padded beside his brother as he headed for the medicine cats’ den. “Hollyleaf had an idea. She thought the ShadowClan apprentices might help us make the sign, because they know the territory.”

Jaypaw looked dubious. “Help us fool their own Clan?”

“You heard them when they arrived,” Lionblaze persisted.

“All they want is to go home—to the real ShadowClan, not the mess that Sol has made of it. Don’t you think they would help any cat who could make that happen?”

Jaypaw hesitated outside the bramble screen, his head on one side. “Maybe you’re right,” he agreed. “Okay, we’ll talk to them later.” Then he whisked out of sight into the den.

As Lionblaze turned away, he noticed that the thorns blocking the entrance to the hollow were shaking. The apprentices and their mentors were returning from hunting practice. All three of the ShadowClan apprentices looked bedraggled, their fur clumped together and stuck with bits of leaf and moss.

Dawnpaw carried a mouse; she padded across the clearing, her tail straight up in triumph, and laid it on the fresh-kill pile.

“But that can’t be right.” Tigerpaw was arguing with Foxpaw as they came up. “If you stalk the prey until you’re nearly on top of it, you give it the chance to know you’re there. We pounce when we’re a lot farther away.”

“That’s because there’s thick undergrowth in our territory,” Foxpaw explained. “That hides us and our scent until we get close, then it’s easier to pounce.”

“Oh.” Tigerpaw thought about that for a moment. “Well, it still seems mouse-brained to me,” he decided.

“Hey, Lionblaze!” Hollyleaf bounded out of the nursery, distracting Lionblaze from the apprentices’ chatter.

“How’s Daisy coping with all the kits?” he asked.

“Pretty well,” Hollyleaf replied. “Ferncloud is with her, helping to keep the kits amused. I just took them some fresh-kill.” Glancing around to make sure that no cat was listening, she added, “Did you have a word with Jaypaw?”

Lionblaze nodded. “He says we can talk to the apprentices.”

Hollyleaf’s whiskers twitched with satisfaction. “Good. I’ll get Foxpaw and Icepaw away, then you can take the others behind the warriors’ den. No cat will hear us there.”

The mentors and apprentices were standing in the middle of the clearing; Cloudtail was explaining something about following a scent trail. Hollyleaf bounded up to them. “Foxpaw, Icepaw, can you fetch some clean moss for the elders’ den?”

Foxpaw and Icepaw exchanged a sullen glance. “Why can’t they do it?” Icepaw asked, flicking her ears toward the ShadowClan apprentices.

“Because they’re not here to do all the jobs that you don’t like,” Hollyleaf retorted. “Besides, the elders will appreciate having the respect of their own Clanmates.”

“Yes, when you’re warriors you get to decide who does what,” Sandstorm added. “Not before.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll do it,” Foxpaw muttered, stifling a cough as he headed back toward the thorn barrier. “It’ll all be wet through, you know that.”

“Like they know the best moss places anyway,” Icepaw mewed with a twitch of her tail-tip as she followed her brother.

Hollyleaf turned to the group of mentors. “Shall I take Flamepaw, Tigerpaw, and Dawnpaw to get cleaned up?” she asked. Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched at the helpful tone in her voice. “Any cat can see they’re not used to hunting in thick woodland.”

“Not thick soaking-wet woodland,” Flamepaw agreed. He gave himself a thorough shake, scattering water drops and scraps of leaf, twigs, and moss. “I’d rather hunt in our own territory. It’s a lot cleaner there.”

Cloudtail leaped back as drops from Flamepaw’s fur spattered his white pelt. “You do that, Hollyleaf. The sooner the better.”

At the same moment, Lionblaze noticed that more cats had emerged from the tunnel: The border patrol was returning, led by Ashfur, with Honeyfern and Brackenfur.

“Yes, carry on, Hollyleaf,” Sandstorm meowed, heading toward the newcomers. “We need to find out what’s been happening along the ShadowClan border.” Whitewing, Cloudtail, Sorreltail, and Spiderleg crowded close behind her.