Erin Hunter - Starlight

“Hi, Brambleclaw!” Squirrelflight called to him, setting down the squirrel she was carrying. “This place is great for prey!”

Brambleclaw couldn’t share her excitement. The only thing he’d been allowed to hunt for his Clan was a heap of bedding. Not bothering to put the moss down so he could answer, he brushed past his Clanmate and stalked into the camp.

“I said, what are you doing here?”

Leafpaw felt her pelt bristle as she met Crowfeather’s furious glare. “I’ve come to help!” she hissed. “Morningflower and Darkfoot are ill. I’ve brought herbs for them.”

“How do you know what’s wrong?” Crowfeather asked suspiciously.

“Because we’ve got the same problem in ThunderClan,” Leafpaw retorted. There was no need to tell him about Mothwing and the tainted water. She didn’t want to give the prickly WindClan warrior the smallest chance to accuse Mothwing of deliberately poisoning the elders.

“Back off, Crowfeather,” Whitetail mewed. “I asked Leafpaw to come.”

The dark gray warrior let out a snort of disgust; he didn’t say anything else, but he watched Leafpaw closely as she began to examine Morningflower. She found his presence thoroughly off-putting, but she couldn’t tell him to go away, not in his own camp.

Once she was sure that Morningflower was suffering from the same illness as Mousefur and the others, Leafpaw chewed a few mint leaves into a pulp and used her claws to part Morningflower’s jaws. Pushing the pulp into her mouth, she stroked her throat to make her swallow.

Whitetail crouched close by. “Will she die?”

“I don’t know,” Leafpaw admitted. Silently she added a prayer to StarClan: Please let her get well.

As she waited for the healing herbs to work, she heard Darkfoot stirring; the old tomcat raised his head and looked around with bleary eyes. “Great StarClan, my belly aches,” he complained. “Where’s Barkface with that juniper?”

“He’s not back yet,” Whitetail meowed. “But Leafpaw’s here with some water mint.”

“Leafpaw?” Darkfoot blinked. “She’s a ThunderClan cat.”

Before Leafpaw could explain, he added, “ThunderClan, WindClan, who cares, so long as she knows what she’s doing.”

He chewed the mint leaves Leafpaw set in front of him, and rested his head on his paws again.

A choking sound from Morningflower drew Leafpaw’s attention back to her; the old she-cat was retching feebly, her legs jerking.

“What have you done to her?” Crowfeather snarled. “She’s getting worse!”

He tried to nudge Leafpaw away. She leaped backward, and he bared his teeth at her when she tried to dodge around him and get back to her patient.

“Stop!” Spinning around, Leafpaw saw Onewhisker padding into the bushes, with Tornear just behind him.

“Crowfeather, what do you think you’re doing? Leafpaw has come to help.”

“She shouldn’t be here,” Crowfeather growled.

“Are you saying she shouldn’t do us a favor? She shouldn’t try to save the life of one of our cats?” Onewhisker’s voice was level, but tense with anger. When Crowfeather didn’t reply, he added, “Since you’re taking such an interest, you can stay and keep an eye on her. If she needs you to do anything, you do it. Leafpaw, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Leafpaw dipped her head. “Thanks, Onewhisker. I think Whitetail and I can manage.”

“I want Whitetail for a hunting patrol,” Onewhisker told her. “But Crowfeather hasn’t got anything else to do.” He beckoned to Whitetail and padded away.

Crowfeather glared at Leafpaw. “Treat me like an apprentice and you’re crow-food,” he hissed.

Much as he had ruffled her fur, Leafpaw couldn’t help feeling that Onewhisker had been a bit tough on Crowfeather.

“Let’s just concentrate on helping Morningflower,” she mewed. “We need to get some more water mint down her.”

She chewed up more of the leaves, and asked Crowfeather to hold Morningflower’s jaws open while she pushed the pulp into her mouth, praying that the old cat wouldn’t vomit it up again. She flinched as Crowfeather’s flank brushed hers, making her fur tingle like the air before a storm. He leaped back too, then stepped forward again without meeting her eyes, as if he were embarrassed.

Morningflower had gone limp again, as if she were exhausted. Leafpaw sat beside her, stroking her belly gently with her tail. She was acutely conscious of Crowfeather watching her, and wished he would go away.

After a while she thought that the old she-cat’s breathing was growing stronger. Darkfoot was dozing again, occasionally letting out a rusty purr.

“Are they getting better?” Crowfeather whispered.

“I think so,” Leafpaw replied. “I’m sure Darkfoot will be fine. It’s Morningflower I’m worried about.”

“Leafpaw.” A shadow fell across Morningflower’s body, and Leafpaw looked up to see Barkface. “It’s good to see you.”

He spoke around a leaf-wrapped bundle; when he set it down the leaves fell back to show a few shriveled juniper berries.

“Barkface, I hope you don’t mind,” Leafpaw began nervously. “I met some of your Clan in the woods, and they said Morningflower was very ill. We’ve had the same trouble, so—”

Barkface interrupted her with a wave of the tail. “You’re very welcome. I’ve no idea yet where the best herbs grow—I found only one juniper bush, and birds must have taken most of the berries.” Sniffing carefully at Morningflower, he added, “She’s better than when I left. What are you giving her—water mint? Good thinking, though I’d use juniper myself, if I could find enough.”

“Can I go, then?” Crowfeather asked loudly.

“Oh, yes, yes.” Barkface waved him away. “I can take over now.”

Leafpaw watched him go, wondering why she was feeling disappointed. She hated the idea of falling out with any cat, but it hurt even more when Crowfeather was a friend of Squirrelflight’s—though what her sister saw in him, she couldn’t begin to guess.

“You’d better go too, Leafpaw,” Barkface meowed. “You’ve done good work here, and your own Clan will be needing you.”

Leaving what was left of the water mint, Leafpaw rose to her paws. “Let me know how Morningflower gets on.”

“I will. I’ll get a message to you somehow,” Barkface promised.

Leafpaw pushed her way out of the bush. Onewhisker was in the center of the camp with some of his warriors around him, and she decided to tell him she was leaving. Her steps faltered when she saw that one of the cats talking to the Clan leader was Mudclaw.

Onewhisker spotted her. “How’s Morningflower?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be fine. Barkface is with her now.”

“We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” the WindClan leader meowed, his eyes warm. “Tornear told me that when he met you, he and Thornclaw were having a dispute over the boundary in the woods. I’ve decided that we’ll leave that area to ThunderClan from now on. We’ll put our scent markers at the edge of the trees, close to the foot of the hill.”

“That’s very generous of you!” Leafpaw began, but she was interrupted by a growl from Mudclaw.

“Are you completely mousebrained?” rasped the former deputy. “You’re giving away WindClan territory for a pawful of healing herbs? Barkface was perfectly capable of treating the sick cats without this apprentice sticking her nose in.”

Onewhisker spun to face him. “Mudclaw, you are a fool if you think this is about nothing more than herbs. Think of everything ThunderClan has done for us. How many lifetimes would it take to repay them? Without their friendship, every cat in WindClan would be crow-food by now.”