Erin Hunter - The Sight

His anxiety turned to irritation. No wonder supplies were running low. He had been doing nothing but padding back and forth to the elders’ den with herbs for Mousefur. The elderly warrior claimed she was fine, but Longtail kept worrying over her like a fretful queen fussing over her kit.

“Mousefur’s wheezing,” Longtail announced.

Of course she’s wheezing, Jaypaw thought irritably. She’s older than the Sky Oak, and it’s freezing!

He turned to the pale tabby elder. “We’ve tried just about every herb already.”

“Let’s try juniper berries this time,” Leafpool suggested.

Or a pawful of poppy seeds , Jaypaw muttered to himself. She might sleep long enough to give me a break.

“Here.” Leafpool rolled a pawful of small berries toward Jaypaw. “Take these to her.” Their aromatic flavor filled his nose. He bent and picked them up carefully between his jaws.

Then he turned and followed Longtail back to the elders’ den.

The twining honeysuckle was stripped of its greenleaf foliage, and drafts whipped around the den like swirling water.

“Jaypaw,” Mousefur greeted him. “You’re not back again !”

Her voice seemed to scour her throat like dried thistles. “You should be with cats your own age instead of spending every waking moment in here.”

Jaypaw’s tail twitched with frustration. If only!

“He’s here so often only because he’s worried about you,” Longtail meowed.

“Because you’re worried about me,” Mousefur corrected.

“You really shouldn’t fuss so much. A cat my age is bound to feel the cold more easily.”

“But your eyes and nose are streaming,” Longtail pointed out.

“That’s just the cold air,” Mousefur croaked.

“I can get Brambleclaw to organize some warriors to pad your den walls, if you like,” Jaypaw suggested.

“That would be kind,” Mousefur admitted. “The chill does seem to have reached right to my bones this morning.”

Jaypaw nosed the berries toward her. He could tell she was shivering, and yet heat flooded from her. It seemed strange, but he had been to check on her so many times, he still thought Longtail was fussing over nothing.

“I’ll speak to Brambleclaw,” he promised. Perhaps if he got their den fixed, the two elders could manage without him for a while.

He turned and padded out of the den, lifting his nose to scent for Brambleclaw. As he scanned the camp, he stopped dead. A tiny prick of doubt, which had been smothered by irritation with the two elders, broke through. Mousefur had accepted his help too easily. And her breathing was irregular.

He swung his muzzle back toward the den. The pungent juniper berries had masked another smell—the smell of illness.

Mousefur really was sick.

He pelted toward the medicine den, his paws skimming over the icy ground. Crashing through the patch of brambles, he skidded to a halt.

Leafpool’s pelt bristled in alarm. “Jaypaw!”

“Mousefur has greencough!”

“Are you sure?”

Jaypaw listed the symptoms. “Irregular breathing, streaming eyes and nose, wheezing, fever…” Fever! That explained the heat he had felt coming off her in waves.

“We need catmint,” Leafpool meowed, rushing out of the medicine den.

Jaypaw knew that catmint was one of the missing scents when Leafpool had raked through the herbs earlier. He followed his mentor out and paced anxiously as she called to Cloudtail.

“You must fetch catmint,” Leafpool explained as the warrior came racing to the medicine cat’s side. “At once!”

Surprise sparked from the warrior. “Catmint? Why?”

Leafpool’s pelt ruffled with uncertainty. She obviously didn’t want to spread panic through the Clan. She lowered her voice. “Mousefur is ill.”

Cloudtail kneaded the ground anxiously. “Where do I get it from?”

“By the old Twoleg nest,” Leafpool told him.

“I know what it smells like,” Jaypaw mewed. “I’ll be able to find it.”

He sensed Cloudtail’s doubt at once. “Medicine cats can run, you know! And I’ll be able to spot it quicker than you.”

“He’s right,” Leafpool agreed.

“Okay,” Cloudtail mewed. “We’ll take Cinderpaw with us.

She can help carry it back.” He called across the clearing to his apprentice. She was sharing tongues with Poppypaw, but at Cloudtail’s call, her small steps came pattering toward them over the frosty ground.

“What is it?” she mewed.

“We have to find catmint,” Jaypaw told her. “Mousefur is ill.”

Cinderpaw gasped. “Catmint’s for greencough, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” Cloudtail ordered. “There’s no time to waste.”

He raced toward the thorn barrier, and Jaypaw hurried after him. Once out of the camp they headed straight for the dis-used Thunderpath.

Jaypaw could feel Cloudtail’s eyes flashing back at him as the warrior checked that their blind companion was keeping up. But Jaypaw’s paws were swift with fear, and he easily kept pace with Cinderpaw. He could feel her warm pelt rippling beside his, and matched her step for step.

“Tree!” she warned him. But he had already scented its bark and swerved to avoid it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Mousefur. Why hadn’t he realized that she was so unwell? Longtail had been trying to tell him for days. Guilt gnawed at his belly. Once they had the catmint he would feed it to her himself until she was fully recovered. The sharp little stones on the abandoned Thunderpath grazed Jaypaw’s pads, but he quickened his pace, pulling ahead of Cinderpaw.

Cloudtail halted by the crumbling stone wall around the nest. Jaypaw felt a twinge of nerves. Although he knew the place was empty, it felt dangerous to be going onto Twoleg territory.

Cloudtail jumped up onto the wall first.

“It’s not high,” Cinderpaw mewed.

Jaypaw reached up with his forepaws, and Cloudtail flicked his tail down to give him some sense of how far to jump. He sprang, and as he scrabbled to get a grip, Cloudtail grabbed him by his scruff and swung him over the wall into the long, frost-stiffened grass on the other side.

As soon as he landed, Jaypaw sniffed the air, searching for the catmint. He found a trace of it and began picking his way through the grass.

“Wait for me!” Cinderpaw called, jumping down after him.

She hurried to catch up. “Cloudtail’s keeping guard on the wall,” she panted.

“It’s over there,” he told her.

Cinderpaw sped ahead, and Jaypaw could hear her rooting about in the vegetation along the wall. “There’s nothing here but dead leaves!” she called back to him. “The frost has killed it all.”

Jaypaw’s belly heaved, and the ground seemed to drop away from beneath his paws. There had to be catmint here!

“Let me look!” he mewed.

He rushed over to Cinderpaw and sniffed at the plants around her paws. He could smell catmint, but it was sour, scorched by the frost.

“It’s all black.” Cinderpaw sighed.

Jaypaw touched it with the tip of his tongue. The leaves felt pulpy and wet. But a delicious flavor seeped from deeper within the plant. He dug down, fearful of damaging roots that might yet recover but desperate to find something that would help Mousefur. Around the base, just beneath the soil, he smelled fresh leaves. Feeling carefully with the tips of his paws, he touched the soft furriness of new growth. Not much, but it was better than nothing. He scraped away the earth and delicately nipped off the new stalks with his teeth. Then, holding them gently on his tongue, trying not to absorb any of the precious flavor, he nodded to Cinderpaw.

“Will that be enough?” she asked.