Эрин Хантер - Firestar’s Quest

Firestar knew that her touch should have comforted him, but he couldn’t get the wailing of terrified cats out of his head, or forget the reflection he had seen in the puddle. He stared down at the river, at the ruffled water spilling around half-covered rocks… no, they weren’t rocks, he realized, his pelt bristling with fear. They were cats , desperately swimming cats, churning the water with their paws, their drenched bodies dragged by the swirling current.

He blinked, and the vision was gone. All he could see was the river sliding past on its endless journey, with the shivering starlight trapped in its depths.

Great StarClan! he thought. What’s happening to me?

Though Firestar didn’t dream again that night, he slept badly, and he still felt tired when he emerged from his den the next morning. He blinked in the strong sunlight to see Ashfur padding across the clearing toward Brambleclaw. “Your vigil’s over,” Firestar heard him meow. “Come on; I’ll find you somewhere to sleep.”

They disappeared into the warriors’ den while Firestar crossed the clearing and slipped down the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt’s den.

The gray-furred medicine cat was sitting outside the cleft in the rock, turning over some herbs with one paw.

Brightheart sat beside her and bent her head forward to give the leaves an interested sniff.

“This is borage,” Cinderpelt explained. “You should start eating some now, so when your kits come you’ll have plenty of milk.”

Brightheart licked the herbs up, making a face as she swallowed them. “They taste as bitter as mouse bile. But I don’t mind,” she added hastily. “I want to do my best for my kits.”

“You’ll be fine,” Cinderpelt assured her. “Come back every morning for some more herbs, and call me right away if you think the kits are coming. I don’t think it’ll be long now.”

“Thanks, Cinderpelt.” Brightheart dipped her head to the medicine cat and padded across the clearing, passing Firestar at the end of the tunnel.

“Make sure you get plenty of rest,” he meowed as she made her way back into the main camp.

Cinderpelt dusted a few scraps of borage from her paws and limped into the clearing to meet Firestar. Once she had been his apprentice, but an accident beside the Thunderpath had injured her leg and made it impossible for her to be a warrior. Firestar knew how hard it had been for her to give up the future she had always dreamed of; he still blamed himself for not taking better care of her.

“Cinderpelt, I have to talk to you,” he began.

Before the medicine cat could reply, a wail sounded from behind Firestar. “Cinderpelt! Look at my paw!”

“Great StarClan, what now?” the medicine cat muttered.

Sorrelpaw, the smallest of the apprentices, lurched into the clearing on three legs, holding out her forepaw. “Look, Cinderpelt!”

The medicine cat bent her head to examine the paw.

Firestar could see that a thorn was driven deep into the pad.

“Honestly, Sorrelpaw,” Cinderpelt mewed, “from the noise you were making I thought a fox must have bitten your paw off. It’s only a thorn.”

“But it hurts!” the apprentice protested, her amber eyes wide.

Cinderpelt tutted. “Lie down and hold your paw out.”

Firestar watched as the medicine cat expertly gripped the shank of the thorn in her teeth and tugged it out. A gush of blood followed it.

“It’s bleeding!” Sorrelpaw exclaimed.

“So it is,” Cinderpelt agreed calmly. “Give it a good lick.”

“Every cat picks up thorns now and again,” Firestar told the apprentice as her tongue rasped busily across her pad.

“You’ll probably pick up a good many more before you’re an elder.”

“I know.” Sorrelpaw sprang to her paws again. “Thanks, Cinderpelt. It’s fine now, so I’ll go back to the others. We’re training in the sandy hollow.” Her eyes shone and she flexed her claws. “Sandstorm’s going to show me how to fight foxes !”

Without waiting for a response she charged off down the fern tunnel.

Cinderpelt’s blue eyes gleamed. “Sandstorm’s got her paws full with that one,” she commented.

“You’ve got your paws full yourself,” meowed Firestar. “Is it always this busy?”

“Busy is good,” Cinderpelt replied. “Just as long as there’s no blood being spilled. It’s great, being able to use my skills to care for my Clan.”

Her eyes shone with enthusiasm, and once again Firestar was reminded of the apprentice she had been. What a warrior she would have made! But her accident had diverted all her energy, like a clear, sparkling stream, into the path of a medicine cat.

“Okay, Firestar,” she prompted. “You’re busy too, so you haven’t come here just to gossip. What can I do for you?”

Twitching her ears for Firestar to follow her, she made her way to the cleft in the rock and began to put away the remaining stems of borage. Firestar sat beside her, suddenly reluctant to tell any cat about the strange visions he had seen.

“I’ve been having these dreams…”

Cinderpelt shot him a swift glance; usually only medicine cats received dreams from StarClan, but she had learned long ago that their warrior ancestors came to Firestar too.

“It wasn’t a dream from StarClan,” Firestar went on. “At least, I don’t think it was.” He described the mist-shrouded moorland where the desperate wailing of cats had surrounded him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Cinderpelt about the pale gray cat he had seen in the ravine when he was awake, or the reflection in the puddle and the cats struggling in the river. They could be explained away too easily: odd cloud formations, tricks of the light, or the pattern of starlight in the dark water.

Cinderpelt finished tidying the herbs and came to sit beside him, her eyes thoughtful. “You’ve had this dream twice?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I think it’s more than a tough bit of fresh-kill stuck in your belly.” She blinked several times and added, “That many cats could only belong to a Clan… and you’re sure it wasn’t WindClan?”

“Positive. The moor wasn’t anywhere in WindClan territory, I’m sure of it, and I didn’t recognize any of the voices.

Besides, there’s been no report of trouble in WindClan.”

Cinderpelt nodded. “And none in any of the other Clans, either. Do you think you’re remembering the battle with BloodClan?”

“No, Cinderpelt, what I heard wasn’t battle yowling. It was cats wailing as if something was terribly wrong.” Firestar shuddered. “I wanted to help them, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Cinderpelt brushed her tail across his shoulder. “I could give you some poppyseed,” she suggested. “At least that would give you a good night’s sleep.”

“Thanks, but no. It’s not sleep I want. It’s an explanation.”

Cinderpelt didn’t look surprised. “That’s something I can’t give you, not right now,” she meowed. “But I’ll let you know if StarClan show me anything. And be sure to come and tell me if you have any more dreams.”

Firestar wasn’t certain he wanted to do that. Cinderpelt had enough to keep her busy without worrying about him.

“I’m probably making a fuss about nothing,” he told her. “I’m sure the dreams will go away if I stop thinking about them.”

He hadn’t managed to convince himself, and as he padded away through the fern tunnel with the medicine cat’s pale blue gaze following him, he was sure that he hadn’t convinced Cinderpelt, either.