Erin Hunter - The Sight

“Let’s go and ask them,” Kestrelpaw suggested.

“Mothwing might need all her supplies for her own Clan,” Leafpool fretted.

“She wouldn’t let our Clanmates die if she knew how sick they were,” Squirrelflight argued.

“She might already know,” Kestrelpaw pointed out.

“StarClan might have told her.”

Yeah, right, thought Jaypaw.

Leafpool shuffled her paws. “But what if there’s greencough in RiverClan too? She couldn’t risk giving away her supplies.”

Jaypaw didn’t understand why Leafpool was hesitating.

“We’ve got to try!” he mewed. This was their chance to save the Clan.

Squirrelflight’s fur was pricking with frustration too. “The Clans have helped one another before when it’s been life or death.”

“ I’ll go and ask RiverClan, if you’re too scared!” Jaypaw put in.

“I’m not scared!” Leafpool growled. “I just don’t want to put Mothwing in a difficult position.”

Jaypaw clawed the ground. “What would she say if she found out cats died and you never asked for help?” He felt Leafpool’s mind recoil with alarm—and something else, the horror of a long-buried memory. “She’d be devastated!” he pressed.

“Very well,” Leafpool agreed. “I’ll go and ask her.”

Jaypaw knew she’d travel faster without him. “I’ll stay here and look after the sick cats,” he offered.

Leafpool leaned down and touched her muzzle to his.

“Thanks, Jaypaw.”

“I’ll do my best,” he mewed briskly. Then he realized that he would be responsible for every one of his Clanmates while Leafpool was away. The thought struck him like a kick to the belly.

Leafpool entwined his tail with hers. “Rely on your instincts, Jaypaw. They are sharper than any cat’s.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. I know all the herbs , he reminded himself. And this is a chance to prove that I can help my Clan.

“Brightheart will help you if necessary,” Leafpool went on.

“She’s worked with me before.”

Jaypaw’s tail pricked. Brightheart was the last cat he wanted watching him struggle to help his Clanmates. But he wasn’t going to let Leafpool know that.

“We’d better get going,” Leafpool meowed to the two WindClan cats.

Firestar padded over to block the entrance before Leafpool could head out. “I want Thornclaw and Brambleclaw to go with you,” he meowed.

“But we’re medicine cats,” Leafpool pointed out. “No cat will dare stop us.”

“You’re going to have to skirt the lake around ShadowClan territory,” Firestar pointed out. “I don’t trust ShadowClan right now.”

“Very well,” Leafpool meowed. She waited impatiently while Firestar called Thornclaw from the warriors’ den, and then the patrol raced out of the camp like rabbits.

Sandstorm came up to Jaypaw. “Can I help with anything?”

He didn’t know where to start. The medicine den was full, feverfew was running short, and he was so hungry he could hardly think straight.

“The mouse!” He suddenly remembered. “I was going to take it to the nursery for the kits.”

“I can do that,” Sandstorm meowed. “You go back to the medicine den.”

Her steady mew calmed him. “Thanks,” he murmured.

He returned to the den to find that Poppypaw’s fever had risen even more. Mousefur’s breathing was so shallow he had to press his muzzle to her flank to feel it. Ferncloud was begging for water, and the bedding stank.

StarClan, help me! Jaypaw closed his eyes for a moment.

Summoning all his strength, he went to fetch a wad of soaked moss for Ferncloud.

“Sandstorm told me you need some help.” Brightheart’s voice sounded from the den entrance.

“Yes.” Jaypaw’s ears twitched nervously, but for the first time in days he felt no anger flash from the one-eyed warrior.

“Can you help me clear out the old bedding?” he asked.

“I can do the bedding by myself,” Brightheart told him.

“You see to your patients.” Something small and sweet-smelling thudded at his paws. “Sandstorm said you should eat this.” Brightheart had tossed him a piece of the mouse.

He shook his head.

“You have to keep your strength up,” Brightheart insisted.

“While Leafpool’s gone, you are responsible for the whole Clan.”

Which meant that until Leafpool returned with catmint, there was nothing he could do except watch his Clanmates die. Jaypaw felt the same hopelessness as when he flailed his claws at Owlpaw in the battle against ShadowClan, never sure where his enemy would lunge from next.

“Eat the mouse,” Brightheart prompted.

“Okay.” He wasn’t going to act like a mewling kit. Did he want every cat to know he couldn’t cope? They already thought he was useless; they didn’t have to think he was weak and scared too!

Jaypaw gulped down the morsel, and then, while Brightheart started tugging out the foul bedding, he chewed up mouthfuls of feverfew and tried to persuade Poppypaw to swallow some. “Come on,” he urged her. “Just taste a little.”

Poppypaw pushed him away with a burning paw. “I can’t swallow,” she rasped.

“You must try.”

Jaypaw suddenly felt another pelt against his. He smelled Sorreltail, Poppypaw’s mother.

“She’s worse, isn’t she?” the she-cat mewed.

“Leafpool’s gone to WindClan to ask for catmint,” Jaypaw told her.

“But will Poppypaw survive until she returns?” Sorreltail’s mew cracked with grief.

“I’ll make sure she does,” Jaypaw growled. He tried to stop his paws from trembling as he pushed the feverfew under Poppypaw’s nose yet again. He had been a medicine cat apprentice for less than a moon. Could he really keep a promise like that?

“Come on.” Brightheart nudged Sorreltail. “Jaypaw will do what he can. You should go hunting with Brackenfur. The more fresh-kill we have, the stronger the Clan will be.”

As the one-eyed warrior guided her Clanmate out of the medicine den, Jaypaw rubbed the feverfew pulp onto Poppypaw’s lips, hoping that some of it would find its way into her fever-racked body. For StarClan’s sake, eat this and get better!

Jaypaw woke with a start. He had dozed off without meaning to. The silence of night lay heavily on the forest. An owl hooted far away as Jaypaw struggled to his paws. He felt light-headed with hunger and exhaustion, but he had to check on the sick cats.

Brightheart was sleeping at the entrance to the den. Her steady breathing comforted him as he picked his way around the sick cats. Mousefur was shivering, and he pulled fresh moss over her to keep her warm, though heat pulsed from her body. Ferncloud murmured the names of her kits, and Whitewing fidgeted uncomfortably in her sleep. Jaypaw sat and listened. Something was not right. He ducked down beside Poppypaw. Her breathing had slowed.

Jaypaw’s heart began to race. He slid into the nest beside her and pressed his body against hers. She was unnaturally still. Fear gripped him; he had promised Sorreltail that he wouldn’t let her die. He focused on Poppypaw’s breathing and let his body relax. Then he steadied his breath until it fell into the same slow rhythm as hers. He closed his eyes, and the world opened up before him in shades of black, white, and silver, washed with moonlight. He could see the pale shape of Poppypaw padding through a forest. He recognized the trees and the undergrowth and the feel of the leaf-strewn earth underneath his paws at once. Poppypaw mustn’t come here!

“Poppypaw!” He hurried to catch up to the apprentice, and she turned to gaze at him.

“I’ve never been to this part of the forest before.” She sniffed the air. “It doesn’t smell like home. Do you know where we are?”