Erin Hunter - Midnight

She could hear Cinderpelt moving around inside her den, and a few moments later the medicine cat poked her head out and scented the air.

“No smell of rain,” she meowed. “We should have a good journey.”

Without any more delay she led the way out of camp.

Leafpaw cast a regretful look at the pile of fresh-kill as they passed it; no cat who wanted to share tongues with StarClan was allowed to eat beforehand.

Ashfur, who was on guard beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel, dipped his head as Leafpaw and her mentor went by.

Leafpaw felt faintly embarrassed. She was conscious that she was still only an apprentice, and was not yet used to the honor with which warriors treated all medicine cats.

Shadows still lay in the ravine and under the trees as Cinderpelt limped toward Fourtrees, where she and Leafpaw would cross into WindClan territory. Faint rustlings in the undergrowth told them where prey was stirring, but the tiny creatures were safe from hunting for now. From time to time a bird uttered an alarm call as the two cats passed by, no more than shadows themselves in the gray light.

“Practice your scenting skills,” Cinderpelt instructed Leafpaw after a while. “If you can find any useful herbs, we’ll collect them on the way back.”

Leafpaw obeyed, concentrating as hard as she could, until they reached the stream. She and Cinderpelt crouched to lap at the water, then padded along the bank until they reached the place where a rock midstream made it easier to cross.

Leafpaw kept an eye on her mentor, worried that her injured leg would give her trouble, but Cinderpelt managed the jump with the ease of long practice.

As they climbed the slope that led to Fourtrees, Leafpaw began to pick up the scent of other cats. “ShadowClan,” she murmured. “That must be Littlecloud.”

Cinderpelt nodded. “He usually waits for me.”

Leafpaw knew that Cinderpelt had saved Littlecloud’s life when sickness raged through ShadowClan; because of that, Littlecloud had chosen to follow the path of a medicine cat, and ever since there had been a bond of friendship between him and Cinderpelt, beyond even the common loyalty shared by all medicine cats.

When they reached the top of the hollow, Leafpaw spotted the ShadowClan medicine cat sitting at the base of the Great Rock. The small but dignified tabby figure was alone, as he had no apprentice. He leaped to his paws as soon as he saw them, calling out a greeting. At the same moment the bushes farther around the hollow rustled, and Mudfur from RiverClan stepped into the clearing with his apprentice, Mothwing.

Leafpaw was pleased to see the RiverClan apprentice. She bounded down the slope to join her as Cinderpelt and the other two medicine cats met in the center of the clearing and began to exchange their news.

“Mothwing!” she meowed. “It’s good to see you.”

The sun had risen fully above the trees, and Mothwing’s golden fur glowed amber. Leafpaw thought again how beautiful she was, but she was disconcerted when her friendly greeting was not returned.

Instead, Mothwing nodded coolly. “Greetings. I wondered if Cinderpelt would bring her apprentice.”

Something about the way she spoke made Leafpaw feel small, as if Mothwing were trying to put her in her place.

Of course, Mothwing was already a warrior, so perhaps she expected respect and not friendship from an apprentice.

Disappointment stabbed Leafpaw like a thorn; she dipped her head and fell back a pace to follow the other cats as they made their way up the side of the hollow and across the border into WindClan territory.

Her spirits rose again as they began to cross the moorland; the bright, early leaf-fall sunlight, the breeze ruffling the grass that felt springy under her paws, the scents of gorse and heather were all so different from the lush, shady forest of ThunderClan. Seeing that Mothwing was padding behind her mentor without joining in the talk of the medicine cats, Leafpaw went over to join her.

“I didn’t think you would be here,” she mewed. “I thought that Mudfur would have taken you to Mothermouth already.”

Mothwing swung around to look her full in the face, her amber eyes smoldering as if Leafpaw had said something to offend her. Leafpaw flinched. “I’m sorry…” she began.

Suddenly Mothwing relaxed and the hostile light died out of her eyes. “No, I’m sorry,” she meowed. “It’s not your fault.

You heard what Mudfur said at the last Gathering, about waiting for a sign from StarClan that I would be the right medicine cat for the Clan?”

Leafpaw nodded.

“The sign didn’t come.” Mothwing paused and began to tug at the tough moorland grass with the claws of one forepaw. “There was nothing! I thought that meant StarClan had rejected me—and the other cats were quick enough to start talking about it! Just because my mother was a rogue, and I’m not Clan-born.” The fierce light shone briefly in her eyes again, and then faded.

“Oh, no—I’m so sorry!” Leafpaw exclaimed, eyes wide with sympathy.

“Mudfur just told me to be patient.” Mothwing’s lips twisted wryly. “He may be good at that, but I’m not. I tried, but still the sign didn’t come. I was ready to leave the Clan, but Hawkfrost—you remember my brother, Hawkfrost?—told me not to listen. He said I didn’t have to prove my loyalty to jealous cats, only to StarClan, and he was sure they would send the sign eventually.”

“And he was right,” mewed Leafpaw, “or you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Yes, he was right.” Relief sparkled in Mothwing’s eyes. “It was only two dawns ago. Mudfur came out of his den and found a moth’s wing at the entrance. He showed it to Leopardstar and all the other Clan cats. He said you couldn’t have a clearer sign than that.”

“And did Leopardstar—” Leafpaw was interrupted by a distant yowling and looked up. The three medicine cats had paused at the top of a distant rise and were looking back toward the two of them.

“Are you coming with us or not?” Mudfur’s voice came faintly on the wind.

Leafpaw exchanged a startled glance with Mothwing and let out a mrrow of laughter. The sign had been sent from StarClan, so Mothwing could have nothing to worry about.

The Moonstone awaited them both, ready to let them into the mysteries of their warrior ancestors. At that moment, Leafpaw couldn’t imagine anything better than being an apprentice medicine cat. “Come on,” she mewed excitedly to her companion. “We’re being left behind!”

At sunhigh, they met up with Barkface, the WindClan medicine cat, beside the source of one of the moorland streams. Leafpaw watched Barkface and Mudfur greet each other with friendly meows, in spite of the tension between their Clans over WindClan’s determination to drink at the river until the next Gathering. Usual Clan rivalries did not exist between medicine cats—their loyalty was to StarClan, which stretched across all forest boundaries.

After a while, Leafpaw noticed that Cinderpelt was beginning to limp badly, and guessed that her old injury was bothering her. But the ThunderClan medicine cat would never admit that the pace was too much for her, so Leafpaw decided to slow the cats down herself. “Can’t we have a rest?” she begged, flopping down on a patch of soft heather. “I’m really tired!”

Cinderpelt gave her a keen glance, as if she guessed what Leafpaw was thinking, and then meowed agreement.

“Apprentices,” Barkface muttered. “No stamina.”

“ He hasn’t traveled as far as us,” Mothwing whispered as she settled down beside Leafpaw. “And he doesn’t have an apprentice, so what does he know?”

“He’s not really unkind,” Leafpaw murmured back. “I think he just likes to sound grumpy.” She lay on one side and began to give herself a thorough wash, wanting to look her best when she stood before StarClan.