Erin Hunter - Twilight

More than a half moon had passed since their encounter on the hillside, but there had been no word from Crowfeather. Half the time, Leafpool drifted around in a haze of happiness, remembering the look in his eyes and the scent of his pelt.

But for the rest of the time she was clawed by guilt that she had agreed to meet him again. If she was a true medicine cat, she wouldn’t even be thinking about him. She tried harder than ever to concentrate on her tasks, so that she could become the cat she had always longed to be. Besides, she didn’t want Cinderpelt to scold her, or suspect that the WindClan warrior was occupying her thoughts.

Leafpool padded toward her den, but stopped short as a tortoiseshell cat hurtled through the thorn tunnel and skidded to a halt in the middle of the clearing. For an instant Leafpool thought it was Sorreltail, and her heart lurched at the thought of any harm coming to the kits she was carrying. Then she looked more closely and recognized Mosspelt, a warrior from RiverClan.

“Leafpool!” she gasped. “Thank StarClan you’re here!”

“What’s the matter?” Leafpool asked.

“Mothwing sent me.” Mosspelt’s chest heaved. “There’s sickness in RiverClan. It’s bad—very bad.”

“And Mothwing wants me to come?”

Mosspelt nodded. “Mothwing said you would understand what the trouble is.”

Leafpool swallowed, feeling as if a tough piece of fresh-kill were stuck in her throat. She understood too well.

Feathertail’s warning—that Twolegs would put RiverClan in great danger—had come true. Her dream, her long journey to tell Mothwing, had all been in vain.

More cats had begun to gather in the clearing. Firestar appeared on the Highledge with Sandstorm, while Brightheart and several other warriors emerged from the warriors’ den. Daisy peered cautiously out of the nursery, then ran across to Cloudtail and began talking urgently to him, twitching her tail anxiously as she spoke.

Sootfur shot Mosspelt a hostile stare. “Why should we send our medicine cat all the way around the lake to help RiverClan? They should find help somewhere else.”

“Oh, come on!” Thornclaw argued. “WindClan aren’t likely to help, are they? And ShadowClan have never been exactly generous toward other Clans.”

Leafpool was relieved to see Cinderpelt padding across to them.

“What’s going on? Mosspelt, are you in trouble?”

“The whole of RiverClan is in trouble,” the she-cat answered. More calmly, now that she had caught her breath, she repeated what she had told Leafpool. “Mothwing’s den is full of sick cats,” she mewed. “None have died yet, but they will die, if we don’t have help.”

“May I go?” Leafpool begged. She was racked with guilt that she hadn’t tried to do anything else to find out what the trouble might be. Perhaps she really was losing her ability to speak with StarClan. “Please, Cinderpelt!”

Cinderpelt and Firestar exchanged a long glance. Then the medicine cat meowed, “If Firestar agrees.”

The Clan leader nodded. “We can’t refuse to help another Clan in trouble. Besides, this sickness, whatever it is, might come here. Leafpool, try to find out everything you can about it.”

“I will,” Leafpool promised. “Are you sure you can manage without me?” she asked Cinderpelt. Because of her lame leg, the medicine cat relied on Leafpool to collect most of the healing herbs they needed.

“Of course,” Cinderpelt replied. “ThunderClan is lucky to have two medicine cats.” A shadow flickered in her eyes.

Brightheart stepped forward. “I could help you, Cinderpelt,” she offered. “I think I know what most of the herbs look like—the common ones, anyway.”

“Thank you, Brightheart.” Cinderpelt turned back to Leafpool. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go with Mosspelt. But come back as soon as you can. And may StarClan go with you.”

Leafpool nodded and followed Mosspelt out of the camp.

Already she had begun to run through a list of the herbs she might need: juniper, watermint, chervil root… She shook her head. She couldn’t tell what she needed until she’d had a chance to examine the sick cats. StarClan, I need you now , she prayed silently. Show me what I have to do .

A strong wind whisked across the surface of the lake as Leafpool and Mosspelt crossed WindClan’s territory, buffeting the two cats’ fur. After her frantic dash to ThunderClan, Mosspelt couldn’t manage anything faster than a trot, and Leafpool kept pace with her. There was no point in racing on to the RiverClan camp if she arrived too exhausted to help.

They were drawing near the horse place when Leafpool heard a yowl from somewhere above them. Glancing around, she spotted a patrol of four WindClan cats bounding down the hillside toward them. Her heart lurched as she saw Crowfeather’s lean gray shape racing over the turf.

She and Mosspelt stopped and waited for the patrol to catch up. Tornear was leading it; behind him, flanking Crowfeather, came Owlwhisker and Webfoot.

“Greetings.” Tornear dipped his head. “What are you doing on WindClan territory?”

His tone was formal, not aggressive, though Leafpool hardly registered his question. She was too conscious of Crowfeather’s eyes scorching into her fur, though she dared not speak to him or even look at him with so many other cats around.

“We’re on our way to RiverClan,” Mosspelt meowed. She did not tell Tornear why; Leafpool guessed she was in no hurry to let WindClan know that RiverClan had been weakened by sickness.

“We’re staying close to the lake,” Leafpool pointed out, “just as the leaders decided at the Gathering.”

“I can see you are,” meowed Tornear. “Carry on, then, and—”

“What are you staring at her for?” Webfoot growled.

“Aren’t there enough cats in WindClan for you to be padding after?”

Leafpool froze. He was speaking to Crowfeather. She looked at the gray warrior and saw her own dismay reflected in his eyes.

“Great StarClan, Webfoot,” Tornear meowed. “Don’t be more mousebrained than you can help. This is Squirrelflight’s sister, remember? Squirrelflight who Crowfeather went on the journey with?”

Leafpool went limp with relief, breathing out silent thanks to Tornear.

“That’s right,” Crowfeather choked out. “Er… say hi to Squirrelflight for me, will you, Leafpool?”

“Sure.” Leafpool dipped her head.

Mosspelt scraped her claws impatiently on the pebbles.

“Can we keep going, please?”

Tornear nodded, waving Leafpool and Mosspelt away with a sweep of his tail.

Before Leafpool had taken a couple of paces she heard a hiss behind her and swung around to see Crowfeather following her.

“Meet me by the island at twilight,” he whispered, adding in a louder meow, “Remember to tell Squirrelflight what I said.”

“Yes, I will,” Leafpool replied. Guilt and excitement thrilled through her until she felt that every hair on her pelt must be sparkling with it. This couldn’t be wrong, could it?

When it made her so happy?

“Crowfeather, are you coming?” Webfoot yowled.

The gray warrior darted away without another glance at Leafpool. She bounded along the lakeshore to catch up to Mosspelt, feeling as though her paws hardly touched the ground.

Long before she and Mosspelt reached the RiverClan camp, Leafpool could smell the sickness. It hung heavily in the air, a stench like rotting carrion. Then an eerie wailing rose above the gurgle of the stream that bordered the camp.

Mosspelt shot Leafpool a terrified glance and bounded ahead, splashing through the stream and into the camp.

Leafpool followed, hardly noticing the icy water that dragged at her paws and soaked her belly fur.