Erin Hunter - Twilight

“Could there be something stuck in his throat?” she suggested. This didn’t look like ordinary choking, but with Beechpaw weakened already by the poison he might not be able to cough up an obstruction.

Mothwing prized open the apprentice’s jaws, holding him firmly as he writhed to free himself. Leafpool peered down his throat. “There’s something there, but so far down…”

“Let me try.” Instantly Willowkit poked a slender paw down Beechpaw’s throat, let out a faint sound of satisfaction, and withdrew it to show a wad of half-chewed yarrow leaves hooked into her claws.

“Well done!” meowed Leafpool.

As Mothwing released him, Beechpaw collapsed, trembling and drawing in great gasping breaths.

“Willowkit, fetch him some water,” Mothwing directed.

The kit darted to the edge of the stream, tore off a clump of hanging moss, and dipped it in the water. Within heartbeats she was back, squeezing a few drops into Beechpaw’s mouth. Gradually his sides stopped heaving, his trembling died away, and he shifted into a more comfortable curled position with his eyes closed.

Mothwing touched Willowkit on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “You saved Beechpaw’s life,” she mewed. “I’ll make sure he knows it when he wakes up.”

Willowkit’s eyes blazed with happiness. “Is this what it feels like to be a medicine cat?” she asked. “It’s the best thing ever!”

“I know.” Leafpool let out a sympathetic purr. “I remember the first time I put burdock root on a rat bite. I could hardly believe it when the wound started healing!”

“And don’t forget how you saved Reedwhisker when he nearly drowned,” Mothwing meowed. “You were only an apprentice then.”

Leafpaw blinked warmly at her friend, grateful that Mothwing was generous enough to remind her. “There’s no feeling like being able to help your Clanmates,” she told Willowkit. “I can’t think of any other way I’d rather live my life.”

“But you can’t save lives every day,” Mothwing teased, with an affectionate glance at Willowkit. “There are routine jobs to do too.”

“But those jobs are important, aren’t they?” Willowkit mewed.

“Of course they are,” Mothwing assured her. “And I want you to do an important job for me now. Stay here with Beechpaw, and call me right away if there’s any change in his breathing.”

“Yes, Mothwing.” Willowkit sat beside the apprentice, her tail wrapped around her paws and her eyes fixed intently on him.

Mothwing and Leafpool left her while they checked the other cats. Leafpool couldn’t help wondering whether Mothwing had already found the perfect apprentice, and then she asked herself how Mothwing could train an apprentice at all, when she couldn’t pass on any knowledge of StarClan.

She forced the problem to the back of her mind as she and Mothwing examined the sick cats. All of them were sleeping.

Leafpool started to believe that they would all recover, though Dawnflower was still very weak.

Last they came to the three kits in the mossy nest by Mothwing’s den. The little gray tom was sleeping, but Minnowkit had her eyes open. “I’m hungry!” she wailed.

“That’s a good sign,” Leafpool commented to Mothwing.

“It means the poison’s gone.”

“Your mother can’t feed you now,” Mothwing meowed, with a glance at Dawnflower’s unmoving shape. “You can have a drink of water if you want one.”

Minnowkit looked ready to complain again, then staggered to her paws and tottered the few pawsteps to the stream, where she crouched down to lap. Leafpool kept an eye on her in case she lost her balance and fell into the water.

“Leafpool.” Mothwing’s voice was tight and quiet.

Leafpool glanced around. Mothwing had bent to sniff the weakest kit. She looked up, grief dulling her blue eyes. “We must have been too late with the yarrow. She’s dead.”

Leafpool nosed the tiny body, but Mothwing was right.

The kit had gone to join the ranks of StarClan. Take care of her , Leafpool prayed. She’s so little.

Minnowkit had finished drinking and was staggering up the bank again.

“Don’t say anything,” Leafpool whispered urgently to Mothwing, pulling up a covering of moss to hide the motionless scrap of fur. “They’ll be stronger in the morning, and maybe Dawnflower will be awake to comfort them.

Minnowkit,” she went on, as the tiny black she-cat settled herself again in the soft moss, “did you and your littermates find something unusual, that day you ran away from camp? Something Twolegs left behind?”

Minnowkit’s eyes stretched wide. “You know about that?”

Leafpool nodded. “I’ve seen it too. Did you touch the sticky stuff?” When Minnowkit hesitated, she added, “Don’t worry, you won’t get into trouble.”

The black kit hesitated for a heartbeat longer. “Okay, we did touch it,” she admitted. “We played at running through it and making pawmarks on the grass. Then I dared Pebblekit to drink some.”

Mothwing drew in a shocked breath. “How could you be so mousebrained?”

“And did he drink it?” Leafpool prompted, silencing Mothwing with a swift glance.

“We all did.” Minnowkit’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “It was yucky.”

“You know that’s what made you ill, don’t you?” Mothwing mewed.

Minnowkit stared at her in dismay. “We didn’t know!”

“That’s why you must never touch anything strange,” Leafpool told her. “When you’re an apprentice and you’re allowed out of camp on your own, you must report anything you find to your mentor. Even in your territory, not everything is safe. Promise?”

“Okay,” Minnowkit mewed. Her eyes closed and then blinked open again. “Is this all my fault?”

Leafpool shook her head. There would be time enough for Minnowkit to blame herself when she discovered her sister was dead. “No, little one. Go to sleep now.”

“I don’t know how you can be so kind to them!” Mothwing hissed when the kit was asleep again. “I’d like to claw their ears off. All this trouble, and cats dead!”

“You know you wouldn’t really hurt them,” Leafpool replied. “They’re only kits. They didn’t know what they were doing. And anyway, it’s not all their fault. Dawnflower probably got the poison from them, but the rest of the cats must have picked it up by themselves, or eaten prey that was tainted with it.”

“I know.” Mothwing sighed. “But you’d think they’d have more sense !” Her jaws parted in an enormous yawn.

“You’re worn out,” Leafpool meowed. “Why don’t you get some sleep too? I’ll keep watch and wake you at moonhigh.”

Mothwing yawned again. “Okay. Thanks, Leafpool—thanks for everything.”

She padded into her den under the roots of the bush.

Leafpool took one last look at the sick cats; all of them were sleeping quietly, even Beechpaw.

“He’s doing fine,” she murmured to Willowkit. “I’ll look after him now. You can go back to the nursery to your mother. Make sure you tell her how well you did.”

Willowkit dipped her head, eyes shining, and dashed off up the bank. Leafpool settled down beside the sleeping apprentice, tucking her paws under her. Above her head the stars of Silverpelt blazed down, scattered around the bulging shape of the moon, which was almost full. Leafpool sent up a wordless prayer to StarClan, a surge of thankfulness that at last RiverClan’s sickness seemed to be under control.

Only then did she realize that she had completely forgotten to meet Crowfeather at twilight.

Squirrelflight stopped underneath a tree and listened. The woods were silent except for the wind rustling in the trees. When she tasted the air, the scents were faint; the cold weather must have sent all the prey deep into their holes. Shrugging, she padded on, letting her paws decide where to take her.