Erin Hunter - Starlight

“Well… yes. But that’s not the point . Looking for signs isn’t the same as making them up.”

Mothwing flicked her ears. “It doesn’t sound all that different to me.”

Leafpaw felt the ground sway beneath her paws.

Mothwing was questioning everything she had believed since she was a kit. But it was impossible to defend, when everything she knew about StarClan, all the encounters she had had with them, were inside her own head.

“It’s not the same,” she insisted. “That’s what faith in StarClan means—to go on searching, and believing, even when there aren’t any signs. We won’t know for certain that they are really there and watching over us until it’s our time to go and walk with StarClan.”

Mothwing shook her head. “I’m sorry, Leafpaw. It’s not like that for me. Maybe it’s because my mother was a rogue. I can be a loyal RiverClan cat without believing all the myths about our warrior ancestors.”

“But what about your moth’s-wing sign?” Leafpaw prompted. At first, Mothwing had struggled to be accepted as a medicine cat because her mother had not been Clanborn.

When she was still being considered as an apprentice, Mudfur, the previous RiverClan medicine cat, had found a moth’s wing lying outside his den; he had taken it as a sign from StarClan that Mothwing was the right cat to succeed him, and she had begun her apprenticeship. “You can’t say that didn’t come from StarClan,” Leafpaw insisted.

“The moth’s wing?” There was a flash of something like fear in Mothwing’s eyes. “That was—”

“Leafpaw! Are you coming?” Cinderpelt called.

Leafpaw waved her tail in reply; she wanted to hear what Mothwing was about to tell her.

But the RiverClan cat had turned away. “Cinderpelt wants you,” she meowed. “I’ll see you at the next half-moon.”

Before Leafpaw could say anything, she bounded away.

Leafpaw padded over to join her mentor as they made their way back to the lakeshore. Mothwing didn’t believe in StarClan! She had always known Mothwing struggled with some parts of being a medicine cat, but she had thought it was just because she found it hard to learn all the different healing herbs. She had never dreamed her friend simply didn’t believe in their warrior ancestors.

Every hair on Leafpaw’s pelt stood on end. Should she tell Cinderpelt? Would it make any difference? Fear stalked her like a fox as another, even more dreadful thought came to her: had StarClan been silent because they knew that one of the medicine cats didn’t believe in them? Was Mothwing’s lack of faith putting all four Clans in danger of losing their new home?

Leafpaw let out a long sigh.

“Is everything okay?” Cinderpelt asked.

Leafpaw gulped. She didn’t want her mentor to start asking questions about Mothwing. “Yes, fine, thanks,” she replied.

“That sigh wasn’t anything to do with a certain WindClan warrior, was it?”

Leafpaw blinked. “No, it wasn’t,” she retorted. “Nothing to do with a certain WindClan warrior at all!”

Cinderpelt’s eyes glinted but she said nothing more.

Leafpaw gazed at the starshine reflected in the lake and forced herself to see it with Mothwing’s eyes, as nothing more than specks of light. A shiver rippled through her from whiskers to tail-tip. No! She had to trust that her warrior ancestors had meant the Clans to come to this place.

StarClan, show us we are meant to be here, she prayed, but if any of the shining spirits replied, she did not hear them.

In the days following the Gathering, Leafpaw searched desperately for anything that could be interpreted as a sign from StarClan. She roamed through the woods, finding places by the stream where burdock and marigold grew, and thick clumps of chervil closer to the camp. But even though it was useful to find new stocks of healing herbs, they didn’t lead her to a place where the Clans could meet with their warrior ancestors. What would happen if the half moon came and StarClan hadn’t sent a sign? Would the Clans really have to think about leaving their new homes, and finding somewhere else?

Two days before the half moon, Leafpaw returned from an herb-gathering expedition with a bunch of strong-scented yarrow. Her eyes were watering, but she recognized Brackenfur coming out of the tunnel through the thorns. He bounded up to Sorreltail, who was on guard.

“Hi, there,” he meowed, touching noses with the tortoiseshell warrior. “Do you want to come hunting later—just you and me?”

Sorreltail let out a purr. “Sure. I’m off duty at sunhigh.”

“Great! I’ll see you then.” Brackenfur gave her ears a quick lick and pushed his way back through the tunnel.

Leafpaw padded up to her friend and put down the yarrow stalks. “So that’s how the prey’s running, is it?”

Sorreltail spun around to face her. “I don’t know what you mean!” she protested.

Leafpaw’s tail curled up with amusement. “Just because I’m a medicine cat doesn’t mean I can’t tell Brackenfur likes you.”

“Well…” Sorreltail’s white forepaws kneaded the ground.

“He’s great, isn’t he?” she mewed, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

“He certainly is.” Leafpaw pressed her muzzle to her friend’s side. “I’m really happy for you.”

She wished Sorreltail good hunting, then picked up her yarrow and ducked under the thorns that guarded the entrance to the hollow.

“There you are!” Cinderpelt meowed, limping across the clearing to meet her. “Come and look at this.”

Leafpaw followed her over to the tallest part of the cliff.

Brambles had rooted themselves in a crack a few tail-lengths up the rock, their long tendrils hanging down in a curtain.

“The brambles here were really thorny,” Cinderpelt explained. “Far too thick for shelter, so this morning I asked Rainwhisker and Sootfur to shift them. And look what they found.”

She slipped behind the prickly curtain, beckoning with her tail. Leafpaw peered carefully around the tendrils and stopped dead in amazement. A deep cleft yawned in front of her, stretching far enough back that the corners were lost in shadow. At one side water dripped down to form a tiny pool.

The rest of the floor was covered with broken rock, but in between there were patches of sand that would be cool and dry to lie on.

Cinderpelt’s eyes gleamed in the semidarkness. “A perfect medicine cat’s den!” she announced. “What do you think?”

Leafpaw gazed around. This was much better than the spot under the overhang where she and Cinderpelt had been sleeping until now. The little pool meant sick cats could drink easily, and there were plenty of cracks in the rock where they could store herbs. She could sleep just outside in the shelter of the remaining brambles, so Cinderpelt had some privacy at night.

“It’s great!” she mewed excitedly. “I’ll clear out the broken rocks and bring some moss for a nest.”

Cinderpelt called Firestar to see her discovery, and the Clan leader summoned Cloudtail and Brightheart to help clear out the den. By the time daylight faded everything was ready, with comfortable nests of moss and bracken for both the medicine cats.

Leafpaw curled up in her new nest and tucked her nose under her tail. She was warm and sheltered beneath the tangle of brambles, and the cleft was barely a tail-length away, so she could be with a sick cat in less than two heartbeats if they called out during the night. Worn out from moving rocks all afternoon, she shut her eyes.