River Of Fire

CHAPTER 3

Alderheart brushed through the long grass on his way to the stream that marked the border with WindClan, his pelt growing heavy from water droplets left by the recent rain. He barely noticed the forest sounds around him, because he was worrying about the belly sickness that was spreading through the ThunderClan camp. Several cats had become ill over the last quarter moon, and last night they had been joined by Brackenfur, Whitewing, and Plumkit. Alderheart was especially anxious about the sturdy little kit; she was strong, but too small to fight the sickness for long.

He was also worried about Cinderheart’s kits, Snapkit, Spotkit, and Flykit. They had just begun to venture out of the nursery during the day, and they were all keen to explore the camp. But if they caught the sickness, like Plumkit, they might not have the strength to fight off the illness.

StarClan, let me find watermint today, Alderheart prayed. We really need it.

But when he reached the border stream, it looked as though there was no watermint left at all. Perhaps WindClan was also suffering from the illness. He tried not to feel resentful that Kestrelflight had taken so much, instead of going to the border they shared with RiverClan, where it also grew.

Harestar won’t want to start any trouble with RiverClan. Since RiverClan had closed its borders and abandoned contact with the other Clans, no cat knew what Mistystar and her cats might be thinking.

Alderheart padded along the bank, heading upstream, and finally spotted a few stems of the precious herb. They were growing close to the water’s edge, and he had to lean precariously over the stream before he could manage to pick them.

After scrambling back to safety, he headed back to camp with the scant bundle. Overhead, dark clouds were massing again, and Alderheart felt a tingle of unease as he glanced up at them. The first drops of rain splashed onto his head.

It feels like half a moon at least since I really saw the sun, he thought. I’ve never seen anything like this before.

His medicine-cat awareness told him that these clouds were more than just the promise of rain. The dark sky must not herald a storm. Could the darkening sky be a literal sign of the prophecy coming true? The clouds seemed darker and denser than any he had seen before, bulging with rain, and Alderheart couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom, disaster hanging over the Clans just as the clouds were looming over the forest.

Something is coming. I can feel it. . . .

“Why are you chewing up that chervil root?” Jayfeather demanded, giving Alderheart a sharp prod in his shoulder with one paw. “The sick cats need watermint! Are you still an apprentice?”

Alderheart spat the chervil-root chunks onto a dock leaf and suppressed a sigh. Since so many cats had come down with the sickness, Jayfeather had become crankier than ever. But Alderheart knew him well enough not to be offended.

“We don’t have watermint,” he pointed out calmly. He had given the few scraps he had managed to find to Plumkit. “Do you expect me to pull it out of my ears?”

“No,” Jayfeather grumbled. “I expect you to stay out there until you find some.”

Alderheart cast a glance at the bramble screen that covered the entrance to the medicine-cat den. Outside, the rain was hissing down; still, Alderheart would willingly get soaked to the skin if it meant he could find the herb they so desperately needed.

“Don’t act like such a kit,” Alderheart mewed teasingly to Jayfeather, “just because we have a lot to do!” Alderheart thought for a moment. “You know there’s hardly any watermint left in the border stream. We might have to find another supply,” he added.

“And you need to chew that chervil root more thoroughly,” Jayfeather added irritably, prodding at the pulp with one paw. “The chunks are far too big. How do you think you can force that down Whitewing’s muzzle? Any apprentice knows that!”

Alderheart stopped himself from pointing out that it was Jayfeather who had interrupted his chewing. “We ought to talk about the prophecy,” he meowed instead, hoping that with so many cats to treat, Jayfeather wouldn’t be likely to wander off, and at last they could have a useful discussion. “Without ShadowClan and with RiverClan closing its borders . . .” StarClan had made it clear that they needed all five Clans.

But Jayfeather waved his tail dismissively. “I don’t care about that right now,” he responded. “It’s more important to get all these cats better, so that they can get back to their duties.”

Leafpool was lying beside Plumkit, licking her gently when she whimpered from the bellyache.

Now the medicine cat raised her head. “Alderheart, this sickness spreads so quickly, I think we should move Briarlight into the nursery. It could be especially dangerous for her, if she catches it.”

Briarlight, who was drowsing in her own nest, roused at Leafpool’s words. “Don’t worry about me,” she mewed. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, Leafpool’s right,” Alderheart declared. “It’s a good idea.”

Even while he spoke, he couldn’t help thinking of Whitewing, the most seriously ill of the cats. She seemed to be missing her daughter Dovewing, who had disappeared more than a moon ago, so much that she hadn’t the will or the strength to fight the sickness. Day after day, Alderheart had to encourage her to eat her herbs.

“It’s going to be pretty crowded in the nursery,” Jayfeather pointed out.

Since there was no room in the medicine-cat den for all the sick cats, Alderheart had sent all of them except Plumkit into the apprentices’ den, and moved Twigpaw and Finpaw into the nursery.

“There’s room,” he murmured. “The apprentices are helping over there, after all. And if we move Briarlight, we’ll have space over here for Whitewing. I’d like to keep a closer eye on her.”

Jayfeather’s only response was a grunt.

Alderheart stuck his head out through the bramble screen, wincing at the cold rain that showered down on him. Glancing around, he spotted Lionblaze padding past, his golden pelt darkened and plastered to his sides, a squirrel dangling from his jaws.

“Hey, Lionblaze!” Alderheart yowled. “I need your help.”

“Okay,” Lionblaze mumbled around the mouthful of prey. “Whatever it is, I can’t get any wetter. Let me just drop this on the fresh-kill pile.”

“Find another cat to help too,” Alderheart called after him.

A few moments later, Lionblaze returned with Bumblestripe, Briarlight’s brother; Alderheart guessed he had been on the same hunting patrol, because he looked just as wet as Lionblaze.

“Don’t even think about shaking your pelts in here,” Jayfeather snapped.

“How can we help you?” Lionblaze asked Alderheart, ignoring Jayfeather’s irritable tone.

Alderheart explained about needing to move Briarlight to the nursery. Immediately Bumblestripe’s eyes stretched wide with alarm.

“You mean she’s in serious danger?” he asked, then went on rapidly without waiting for an answer. “Yes, of course she shouldn’t be around sick cats. Let’s get her out of here right now!”

“For StarClan’s sake!” Briarlight hissed at her brother. “There’s no need to get your whiskers in a twist. Maybe my back legs don’t work, but I’m still a strong cat. It’ll take more than a bit of sickness to finish me off!”

“We’re going to move you anyway,” Alderheart meowed, hoping to calm both cats down. “Better safe than sorry.”

With Lionblaze’s help, Alderheart hoisted Briarlight onto Bumblestripe’s back. Then, with the other two toms steadying her on either side, Bumblestripe padded out of the den and splashed through the puddles to the nursery on the far side of the camp.

“You should thank me,” Briarlight murmured into her brother’s ear. “I’m keeping the rain off you!”

It did look fairly crowded in the nursery, Alderheart thought, as he and the others maneuvered Briarlight down the tunnel into the heart of the bramble thicket. Blossomfall and Cinderheart were there with their kits, along with Ivypool, her belly bulging as she drew close to giving birth, and Daisy, who always stayed in the nursery to help the queens with their litters. The two apprentices weren’t there; Alderheart guessed they were away somewhere, training with their mentors.

“Of course she must stay with us!” Daisy responded when Alderheart had explained. “Briarlight, you’re very welcome. Look, there’s a nest for you over here. The moss is nice and thick.”

“Yes, it’s great to have you here,” Blossomfall, who was Briarlight’s sister, meowed. “Our kits can help you with your exercises.”

“Yes, we will!” Eaglekit squealed excitedly.

“We’ll be good at it!” Flykit agreed.

All the kits hurled themselves at Briarlight; Daisy reached out with her tail to stop them before they scrambled all over her. “Gently, kits,” she mewed. “All of you at once will be a bit much for Briarlight.”

“No, they’ll be fine,” Briarlight told her. “Come on, kits. Who can play moss ball?”

“Me!”

“Me!”

“And me!”

This might be the best idea Leafpool has had in moons, Alderheart thought, with a mrrow of amusement.

Since Briarlight was clearly settled, Alderheart was about to follow Bumblestripe and Lionblaze out of the nursery when Blossomfall reached out a paw to stop him.

“How is Plumkit?” she asked.

“Doing fine,” Alderheart told her, hoping that was true. “She was sleeping when I left.”

Blossomfall shifted uneasily in her nest. “I should be with her.”

“No, that’s the last thing you should do,” Alderheart mewed gently. “Suppose you caught the sickness and brought it back here to the nursery?”

Blossomfall shuddered. “That would be terrible. You’re right, Alderheart,” she added with a sigh. “But it’s hard.”

“I know. But she’s getting the best care possible,” Alderheart reassured her.

Heading back to the medicine cat den, Alderheart wasn’t sure that was true, either. The best care meant giving the sick kit watermint, and now they didn’t have so much as a leaf left.

“Alderheart,” Leafpool meowed as soon as he reached the medicine cat den. “We could really do with more watermint. It’s by far the best thing to treat this sickness.”

Her thoughts exactly matched Alderheart’s own, but he was still doubtful. “That means going to RiverClan,” he responded. “The only other place I know it grows is by the border stream between RiverClan and WindClan. And RiverClan isn’t exactly being a friendly group of cats right now.”

“I know all that,” Leafpool retorted. “But our cats haven’t been getting better, and we need watermint if we’re to contain the sickness and stop it spreading.”

Alderheart knew she was right. And after giving himself a moment to think, he even felt a tingle of excitement at the thought of going to RiverClan.

I could check in and see how they’re doing. Maybe I could even convince them to return to the Clans. Then we wouldn’t be three anymore.

“I’ll go and see Bramblestar,” he mewed.

Beside the fresh-kill pile, where Alderheart found him, Bramblestar thought for a long time about the suggestion of going to RiverClan to collect watermint.

“Okay,” he agreed eventually. “But take a couple of warriors with you. Mistystar was pretty firm about wanting to be left alone.”

“But medicine cats are supposed to be able to cross borders freely,” Alderheart pointed out.

“Even so,” the Clan leader meowed. “We need you in one piece, Alderheart, not shredded by a RiverClan patrol. You’re not going by yourself.”

“I’ll go.”

Alderheart started in surprise at the sound of his sister’s voice, and turned to see Sparkpelt standing behind him. She and Twigpaw were just approaching the fresh-kill pile with prey dangling from their jaws.

“Is that okay, Bramblestar?” she added, dropping her vole on the pile.

A warm feeling of anticipation swept through Alderheart as Bramblestar agreed. It would be good to go with his sister on his expedition to RiverClan, especially since that meant Twigpaw would be going with them.

I’ve been worried about Twigpaw. She looks so sad and anxious all the time. Now I’ll be able to see how she’s getting along with Sparkpelt, and if she’s feeling any better.

“Let’s go,” Sparkpelt said, dipping her head respectfully to her Clan leader. “Alderheart, you can tell us what it’s all about on the way.”

Sparkpelt took the lead as the ThunderClan patrol crossed the border stream and headed through WindClan territory, keeping close to the lakeshore. The rain had stopped; a damp wind still gusted across the lake, fluttering its surface. A heaving mass of cloud still covered the sky, though now and then a few watery rays of sunlight managed to break through.

“How are you?” Alderheart asked Twigpaw as they padded along side by side behind Sparkpelt.

“Fine, thanks,” Twigpaw responded.

The curt answer wasn’t at all like her, and Alderheart had the definite feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“Are you getting along with Sparkpelt?”

Twigpaw shrugged. “She’s okay.”

Now Alderheart was sure something was wrong, but before he could question Twigpaw any further, Sparkpelt called out, “WindClan patrol!”

Looking up, Alderheart spotted three WindClan cats streaming down the swell of the moor. As they drew closer he recognized Featherpelt, Hootwhisker, and Larkwing; they veered sideways and picked up their pace to intercept the ThunderClan patrol at the water’s edge.

The three ThunderClan cats bunched together. Twigpaw slid out her claws, while Sparkpelt’s shoulder fur bristled, as if they were expecting a fight.

“Take it easy,” Alderheart murmured. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

To his relief, none of the WindClan cats looked hostile as they drew to a halt. “Greetings,” Featherpelt meowed, dipping her head politely. “Are you on your way to see Harestar?”

“No, we’re going to RiverClan,” Alderheart replied, glad that his sister seemed willing to leave the talking to him. “We need to collect some watermint from over there. There’s not much left in our border stream.”

The three WindClan cats exchanged a rather guilty glance. “Sorry,” Featherpelt responded, giving her gray tabby fur a couple of embarrassed swipes with her tongue. “We have belly sickness in WindClan, and I guess we used it all.”

“Not to worry,” Alderheart assured her. “But we have the same sickness, and we really need watermint.”

“One of our border patrols told me there’s watermint on the banks of the RiverClan stream, but on our side,” Hootwhisker put in.

Alderheart nodded. “That’s where we’re heading. It should be okay to take some without bothering RiverClan.”

“Then can we come with you?” Hootwhisker asked. “We can pick some for our own stores.”

“Yes, that should please Kestrelflight,” Larkwing added. “Most of our cats are improving, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”

Alderheart heard a faint hiss of annoyance from Sparkpelt. He couldn’t help wishing that the WindClan cats had used this other supply all along. But he knew there was no point in starting an argument about that now.

“Sure you can come,” he mewed. “Are you okay with that, Sparkpelt?”

“I suppose so,” Sparkpelt replied. “I suppose six cats will be better than three if we do run into trouble from RiverClan.”

“But surely there won’t be trouble when we have a medicine cat with us?” Hootwhisker asked. “At least . . .”

His voice trailed off, and all the cats exchanged doubtful glances. We have no idea how RiverClan will react, Alderheart thought. Not too long ago, it had been WindClan who had closed their borders, and they had been reluctant to share herbs that grew on their land with any of the other Clans.

Together the two patrols set off toward the RiverClan border, still keeping close to the water’s edge. The wind had dropped now, and the lake lay flat and still. There was no sign of a storm, but the sky above still looked bleak and gray. Alderheart’s feelings of dread wouldn’t be banished, as if he had fox dung clinging to his fur.

As they approached the horseplace, Featherpelt suddenly halted and began to taste the air. “There’s a really strong smell of horse,” she murmured, looking slightly uneasy. “I wonder if we should take a different way around.”

“No, what’s the point?” Sparkpelt objected; Alderheart suspected that his sister was reluctant to take suggestions from a WindClan cat. “The horses are always penned in the horseplace. They won’t bother us unless we bother them. We’ll just sneak past.”

Alderheart felt that maybe they should pay more attention to Featherpelt, since WindClan knew more about the horseplace than any cat. But he said nothing, just happy to take the more direct route that would get them to the watermint faster.

But as the cats made their way alongside the horseplace, their ears twitched at an ominous thundering sound.

Something’s coming our way! Alderheart thought, feeling the ground tremble under the force of giant paw steps. The creature was hidden for the moment by the barn where Smoky and Coriander lived, but it was drawing closer by the heartbeat.

All the cats had halted, staring toward the barn. Then the charging creature burst into the open. Alderheart gazed at it, transfixed. It was a horse, much smaller than any of the horses he had seen before, but its muscles were powerful, and its huge, hard paws threw up tussocks of grass as it thundered toward the cats.

“A horse kit!” Hootwhisker gasped.

There was a shiny metal mesh between the cats and the horse kit, but it rampaged across the grass straight for them, as if it meant to leap the barrier or break straight through it.

“Scatter!” Sparkpelt squealed.

The group broke up as every cat raced in a different direction. Alderheart headed for the marshes and found himself squelching through belly-deep mud with reeds raking through his pelt. For a few moments he had no idea where the other cats were.

Glancing over his shoulder, Alderheart saw the horse kit come to a snorting halt at the barrier. Tossing its head, it trotted alongside the mesh for a few paw steps, then halted and lowered its head to start cropping the grass.

Alderheart realized that the horse kit probably hadn’t meant to frighten them. Maybe it didn’t see us here at all. It was just playing, like our kits. All the same, he was grateful for the mesh barrier.

After struggling to pull each paw out of the glutinous mud, Alderheart made his way back to the lakeshore. Gradually the other cats joined him. Sparkpelt was even stickier than he was, Larkwing was limping from setting her paw down on a sharp pebble, and Featherpelt had dashed into the lake to stand shivering in the shallows until she realized the danger was over. She waded out, hissing irritably, and showered the other cats with water droplets as she shook herself.

“I’m never going to get my pelt clean!” Sparkpelt exclaimed.

“We’ll find some long grass for you to roll in,” Twigpaw meowed; she had escaped with no more than a few muddy splashes on her fur.

Sparkpelt let out a snort. “It’ll take from now to next newleaf!”

“Let’s get going,” Alderheart urged with a sigh. There had better be watermint, after all this!

The two patrols continued along the lakeshore, passing the tree-bridge that led to the Gathering island, until they reached the stream that marked the RiverClan border.

“There’s the watermint!” Twigpaw squealed in excitement. “Lots of it! I’ll get some.”

She bounded forward to where thick clumps of watermint were growing on both sides of the stream, purple flowers still visible at the end of the spiky stems.

“Be careful!” Sparkpelt called after her.

Twigpaw plunged in among the plants and began to pick the stems, biting them off carefully toward the bottom. The other cats followed her more slowly; Featherpelt began picking herbs for WindClan, while Hootwhisker and Larkwing kept watch on the RiverClan territory across the stream.

Alderheart was padding up to the nearest clump of watermint when a yowl of alarm came from Twigpaw. Alderheart spun around to see her tottering on the very edge of the stream. She would have fallen in if Sparkpelt hadn’t dived forward through the herbs, grabbed her by the scruff, and dragged her back to safety.

“Stupid furball!” Sparkpelt snapped, standing over her apprentice with her tail lashing. “I told you to be careful. And she dropped all her watermint into the stream,” she added to Alderheart as he hurried up. Her voice was loud, echoing for fox-lengths, and Alderheart was worried that the noise, along with Twigpaw’s yowling, would attract attention from RiverClan across the stream.

“Never mind; there’s plenty more,” Alderheart pointed out. “Twigpaw, are you okay?”

Twigpaw nodded; she was looking particularly miserable. “I’m sorry,” she mewed. “I was only trying to help. The edge of the bank gave way under my paws.”

“Well, think what you’re doing in the future.” Sparkpelt still looked annoyed, though Alderheart guessed she had been afraid that her apprentice would be hurt, or even drowned. “Stay by me from now on. Alderheart, you’d better do the picking.”

Alderheart headed for the clumps, but before he could reach the nearest, he heard a swishing sound from RiverClan territory, and looked up to see two RiverClan warriors emerge from the reeds on the far side of the stream.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shimmerpelt, in the lead, halted at the water’s edge and glared across at Alderheart and the others, her silver-gray pelt fluffing up. “Let me remind you that our border is closed. Now kindly leave the watermint where it is, and get lost, or I’ll call up reinforcements.”

“Excuse me,” Sparkpelt retorted, stepping up beside Alderheart. “Do you see any of us on RiverClan territory? If we were to ask permission, it would be from WindClan. Besides, this is medicine-cat business. We have the right to take watermint for our sick Clanmates. That’s the warrior code!”

Shimmerpelt looked harassed, exchanging an uncertain glance with her Clanmate Havenpelt. “Please don’t make trouble,” she meowed. “Just go!”

Alderheart wondered whether Mistystar’s insistence on closing her borders had left her own warriors agitated and unsure. He slapped his tail across Sparkpelt’s muzzle as she drew breath for an angry response.

“We understand the problem,” he began, dipping his head respectfully to the RiverClan cats. “Would you allow us to cross so we can explain to Mistystar why we are so close to your territory?”

“We don’t need permission to be here,” Sparkpelt growled softly behind him, but Alderheart ignored her.

“Surely, even though your border’s closed,” he went on, “you’ll agree that it’s in every cat’s interest for the sickness to be stopped before it spreads too far.”

The two RiverClan warriors glanced at each other, then leaned their heads together for a low-voiced conversation. Alderheart strained to overhear, but he couldn’t make out a word.

Finally both cats straightened up again. “Okay,” Havenpelt meowed. “You can come across, Alderheart, but the warriors must stay behind.”

“That’s not right!” Sparkpelt protested. “Alderheart, don’t go into their camp alone. StarClan knows what they might do!”

Shimmerpelt gave her a cold glance. “RiverClan respects medicine cats,” she hissed.

“I’m fine with it, Sparkpelt,” Alderheart assured her. “I’m not scared of RiverClan. Besides, if Mistystar sees warriors from two Clans walking into her camp, she might think we’re getting ready to attack.”

Sparkpelt glared at her brother. “Well, if you want to be a mouse-brain . . . Just don’t blame me if it all goes wrong.”

Alderheart padded forward and looked at the stream. The current ran fast and deep, and just here it was too wide to leap across. He glanced over at the RiverClan cats, and thought he could catch a glint of amusement in their eyes.

“Oh, yes, you don’t swim, do you?” Havenpelt purred. “Never mind. Come upstream a little way, and there’s an easier place to cross.”

Alderheart obeyed, while the two RiverClan cats paced him on the far side. A few fox-lengths farther up there was a place where a large rock jutted out of the water near the middle of the current.

“Are you okay with that?” Shimmerpelt asked, waving her tail at the rock.

“Fine, thanks!” Alderheart responded. Oh, StarClan, please don’t let me fall in!

Gritting his teeth, he bunched his muscles and pushed off from the bank to land easily on top of the rock. Taking off for the second leap was harder, because the rock was smooth and his paws slipped as he thrust himself forward. For a horrible moment Alderheart thought he would fall short of the bank, but his forepaws landed hard on dry ground. Digging in his claws, he was able to bring his hind legs up and stand to face the RiverClan warriors.

“Lead on,” he meowed.

There was a second stream that bordered the RiverClan camp, but this was shallow enough for Alderheart to splash through. As he climbed the bank beyond it, he could see RiverClan cats gathering around, ears pricked in surprise to see a cat from another Clan.

“Stay here,” Havenpelt directed. “I’ll fetch Mistystar.”

Alderheart halted at the top of the bank, uncomfortable under the stares of the RiverClan cats. He was relieved when only a few heartbeats passed before he spotted Mistystar slipping through the cluster of her warriors to stand in front of him.

“Greetings,” the RiverClan leader meowed, with a slight dip of her head. “Why are you here, Alderheart? You know our borders are closed.”

“Greetings, Mistystar,” Alderheart responded politely. He described the sickness in his own camp and WindClan’s, and how he and the WindClan cats had come to collect watermint from the border stream. “I promise you, we stayed on the far side of the border,” he finished. “We never intended to set paw on your territory, or collect herbs from there.”

Mistystar’s blue gaze rested on him thoughtfully. “But you came very close to crossing our borders,” she mewed at last.

Alderheart felt a stab of fear like a claw tearing at his belly. Is she going to consider this an act of aggression? he wondered. We weren’t even planning to trespass! Well, she can think what she likes—I’m not going home without watermint . . . I just hope that doesn’t mean we’ll have to fight for it.

“But I understand your needs,” Mistystar continued, “and I wish no ill on any cat. Take your watermint, and then go.”

“Thank you! We—”

“But next time you think of approaching our border,” Mistystar interrupted, “think again. The border is closed—do not forget that.”

Yes, I think I’ve gotten the message by now. Alderheart noticed that Willowshine, one of the RiverClan medicine cats, was among those gathered around Mistystar. She was shifting her paws uncomfortably, and there was an unhappy expression in her bright green eyes. There’s a cat who doesn’t agree with her Clan leader.

Alderheart didn’t speak his thoughts aloud. Instead he bowed his head to Mistystar in a show of deepest respect. “You are very generous, Mistystar,” he meowed. “ThunderClan thanks you for your graciousness. May StarClan light your path.”

Mistystar made no response, and after a moment Alderheart turned to go. But his paws were dragging, and there was a huge weight on his heart. Unsure what was compelling him, he turned back.

“Mistystar, won’t you change your mind?” he begged. “Don’t you know that ShadowClan has collapsed, and is now part of SkyClan? Suppose it’s catching, like a sickness, the way Clans fall apart? Surely it’s in every Clan’s interest that we’re all strong?”

The RiverClan leader drew herself up, her blue-gray fur rippling in the breeze and her blue eyes intent. Alderheart could see that his news had affected her. He held his breath, waiting, hoping, for her to take some action.

Then Mistystar relaxed, her spine settling. “Our borders are closed,” she repeated, “while RiverClan rebuilds. I am sorry to hear what happened to ShadowClan, but it is not RiverClan’s responsibility.” She hesitated, then added, “That is the way things are now.”

With a wave of her plumy tail, she dismissed Alderheart.

Struggling to hide his disappointment, Alderheart left the camp. He had always thought of Mistystar as the most reasonable of the Clan leaders, and for a heartbeat he had believed that he had reached her.

The wounds Darktail dealt her Clan have gone too deep. But what will happen to the Clans if the storm in StarClan’s prophecy is unleashed on us?

Shimmerpelt and Havenpelt escorted him, one on each side, until they reached the border stream and the place where he could leap across by the jutting rock.

His Clanmates and the WindClan cats were waiting for him. “Well?” Sparkpelt demanded. “What did Mistystar say?”

Alderheart angled his ears to where the two RiverClan warriors were still watching from the opposite bank. “Mind what you say,” he muttered. “We don’t want trouble now.” More loudly, he added, “She says we can go in peace.”

“I should think so,” Hootwhisker commented under his breath.

All six cats collected as much watermint as they could carry, making sure that they picked stems that were growing farthest from the stream.

“This might be the only chance we get,” Alderheart warned them. “Mistystar told me not to come back.”

When they had bundled up the herbs, they set off, back along the lakeshore; Alderheart was aware of Shimmerpelt and Havenpelt still guarding the stream until they were out of sight.

The WindClan patrol said their good-byes at the other side of the horseplace and headed up the moorland slope toward their camp. Alderheart and his Clanmates made their way back to the stone hollow. They padded mostly in silence, and Alderheart tried to feel optimistic.

I might have failed with Mistystar, but at least now we can treat the sickness.

But as soon as Alderheart pushed his way through the thorn tunnel into the camp, he spotted Jayfeather bounding toward him.

“Where have you been?” the blind cat demanded. “What took you so long? More cats have come down with the sickness—and the worst of them is Squirrelflight!”