Erin Hunter - Twilight

Leopardstar emerged from the ferns at the top of the bank and waited for Leafpool and Mosspelt to reach her. The terrible wailing went on and on.

“Ivytail is dead,” Leopardstar announced. Her voice was calm, but Leafpool could see stark terror behind her eyes.

“Do you think you can do anything to help us?”

“I don’t know until I talk to Mothwing,” Leafpool answered. “I’ll go straight to her den—I know the way.”

“I will send some of my warriors to help you,” Leopardstar meowed.

Leafpool crossed the camp and picked her way down the bank to Mothwing’s den under the thorn bush. All thoughts of Crowfeather had vanished from her head. All that mattered was helping these sick cats.

On the way, she met Heavystep and Hawkfrost bearing the limp body of a brown tabby Leafpool didn’t recognize.

She stood aside to let them pass, her head respectfully bowed.

“Leafpool!” It was Mothwing’s voice, high and panicky.

The RiverClan medicine cat flung herself out of the den and pressed her muzzle into Leafpool’s fur. “I knew you would come!”

Leafpool inhaled her friend’s fear scent, stronger even than the reek of sickness. “Tell me what the matter is,” she mewed.

“They’re all dying!” Mothwing’s wide blue eyes were distraught. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Mothwing, calm down,” she ordered. “Your Clan will give up completely if they see their medicine cat panicking. You must be strong for their sake.”

Mothwing took a couple of gulping breaths. “I’m sorry,” she meowed after a moment. “You’re right, Leafpool. I’m okay now.”

“Tell me what’s been happening,” Leafpool repeated.

“Come and see.”

Mothwing led Leafpool to her den. Close to the entrance, sheltered by the twisted branches of the thorn tree, a small black kit lay in a mossy nest. Its eyes were closed, and Leafpool had to watch closely for a few moments before she saw its shallow breathing.

Beside it were two other kits—another black one unconscious like the first but breathing more strongly, and a gray one thrashing back and forth, its jaws gaping in a feeble wail.

Farther along the bank, beyond the den, four warriors lay in rough nests of dried bracken, along with a younger cat who looked like an apprentice. Leafpool recognized Dawnflower’s pale gray pelt, and Voletooth, who had recently been made a warrior.

She crouched down beside Dawnflower, who was nearest, and extended one paw to pat her belly gently. Dawnflower moaned and tried to pull away from her. Leafpool gave her a soothing lick, then sat back and looked up at Mothwing.

“It reminds me of the time the elders were ill from drinking poisoned water,” she meowed. “But the scent isn’t quite the same. I wonder—”

“But that was my fault!” Mothwing wailed. “I should have smelled there was a dead rabbit in that pool.”

“Not when your paws were covered in mouse bile,” Leafpool reminded her. “And this sickness isn’t your fault either.”

“It is!” Mothwing dug her claws into the earth. “If I were a true medicine cat, I would know what to do for my Clan.”

“That’s nonsense,” Leafpool mewed sharply. “You are a true medicine cat. You’ve done nothing to cause this sickness, but we need to find out where it comes from.”

“I haven’t had time to check everywhere in the territory, not since the first cats fell ill,” Mothwing admitted. “But all the streams are running clear, and there’s no sign of Twoleg rubbish in the lake.” She scraped the ground again with her claws. “I’m a useless medicine cat. Mudfur should never have chosen me.”

“That’s nonsense too, and you know it,” Leafpool meowed more gently, brushing her tail against Mothwing’s pelt.

“What about the moth’s wing that Mudfur found outside his den? It was a clear sign from StarClan that they wanted you to be his apprentice.” Mothwing looked as if she was about to protest, but Leafpool went on rapidly, “Tell me what you’ve been doing for these sick cats.”

“I gave them watermint for bellyache, and when that didn’t work I tried juniper berries. That seemed to soothe the pain a bit, but the cats didn’t get better.”

“Hmm…” Leafpool ran her list of remedies through her mind. “If they’ve eaten something poisonous, then we should try to make them bring it up. Have you got any yarrow leaves?”

“A few,” Mothwing replied. “Not enough for every cat, though.”

“Then some cat will have to go and fetch more.”

While she was speaking, Leafpool saw Mistyfoot and a young black warrior she didn’t know padding down the slope toward her. Mistyfoot waved her tail in greeting.

“Leopardstar sent us to help you,” she meowed.

“Thanks,” Leafpool replied. “We need yarrow leaves.”

“I’ll get some,” the black tom offered immediately.

Dipping his head to Leafpool, he added, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Scanning his slender figure and small, neat ears, Leafpool felt as if she should recognize him, but she couldn’t remember his name. She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“I’m Reedwhisker,” the black warrior meowed. “You saved me when I nearly drowned, back in our old home.”

“He was Reedpaw then,” Mistyfoot added.

Surprise silenced Leafpool for a moment, as she remembered the cat Mistyfoot had dragged out of the flooded river.

Mothwing hadn’t known what to do to get the young cat breathing again, and Leafpool had been forced to take over.

The spirit of Spottedleaf had been close beside her all the time, guiding her paws until it was clear that the apprentice would live.

“I’m glad to see you again,” she mewed briefly, not wanting to remind Mothwing of another occasion when she had panicked. “We need as much yarrow as you can carry, and quickly.

Do you know where to find it?”

“There are some good clumps near the horse place fence,” Mothwing put in before he could reply.

Reedwhisker waved his tail. “I’m on my way. I’ve got an apprentice of my own now,” he added. “Ripplepaw. I’ll take her with me so we can carry more.”

“Juniper berries too,” Leafpool called after him as the slender black warrior whipped around and raced off. “There are bushes near the top of the slope above the marshes.”

Reedwhisker flicked his tail to show he had heard and vanished over the top of the bank.

“Right, Mothwing,” Leafpool meowed when he had gone.

“Where’s the yarrow you do have? We can get started while we wait for Reedwhisker to come back.”

“Tell me what I can do first,” Mistyfoot mewed. “Are there any other herbs you need?”

“Not right now,” Leafpool answered. “But you could check the territory for anything that might have caused this.”

Mistyfoot looked puzzled. “What kind of thing am I looking for?”

Leafpool shook her head, careful to say nothing that would reveal that the warning dream had come to her and not to RiverClan’s own medicine cat. “I wish I could tell you.

Anything unusual—especially anything that doesn’t smell right. Look for something that Twolegs might have done or left behind.”

“Twolegs? Around here?” Mistyfoot put her head on one side. “Well, you know best, I suppose. I’ll send out all the cats we can spare.”

She cast a sorrowful look at the row of sick cats lying along the bank of the stream, then disappeared over the top of the bank.

Meanwhile Mothwing had retreated into her den and came back with a bunch of yarrow leaves, which she dropped at Leafpool’s paws. Leafpool blinked in dismay at how few there were, but at least they looked reasonably fresh.

“Okay, let’s treat the kits first,” she meowed. “There’s enough here for all three of them, and with any luck Reedwhisker will be back soon.” She nosed the gray kit, who was still writhing in pain and letting out faint mewling sounds; a chill crept over her as she realized he had weakened even in the short time since she had first seen him. “Help me move him over here,” she directed Mothwing. “We don’t want him vomiting in the place where he’s got to sleep.”