The Fourth Apprentice Read online

  “Let’s go.” Cloudtail waved his tail toward the thorn tunnel.

  As Lionblaze padded through the forest behind the white warrior, he overheard Berrynose boasting to Icecloud: “RiverClan had better not mess with us when we get to the lake. I’ll teach any cat not to get in my fur.”

  Icecloud murmured something in reply that Lionblaze didn’t catch. Berrynose thinks he’s so great, he thought. But it’s mouse-brained to go looking for trouble when none of us is strong enough for a battle.

  To his relief, Cloudtail took his patrol to the foot of a huge oak tree and instructed them to collect bundles of moss to soak in the lake. Berrynose couldn’t go on telling Icecloud what a fantastic warrior he was when his jaws were stuffed with fluffy green stalks.

  When they reached the lake, Cloudtail paused briefly at the edge, gazing out across the lake bottom. It looked dry and powdery near the bank, with jagged cracks stretching across it; farther out it glistened in the pale light of dawn. As he tried to work out where the mud ended and the water began, Lionblaze spotted the tiny figures of four cats, far out across the mud. He set down his bundle of moss and tasted the air; the faint scent of RiverClan wafted toward him, mingled with the familiar stink of dead fish.

  “Now listen,” Cloudtail began, setting down his own bundle. “RiverClan can’t object to us taking water, and Firestar has already said that he doesn’t want any fighting. Have you got that, Berrynose?” He gave the younger warrior a hard stare.

  Reluctantly Berrynose nodded. “’Kay,” he mumbled around his mouthful of moss.

  “Make sure you don’t forget.” With a final glare Cloudtail led his patrol out across the mud toward the distant lake.

  The surface of the mud was hard at first, but as the patrol drew closer to the water Lionblaze found his paws sinking in at every step. “This is disgusting,” he muttered, his words muffled by the moss as he tried to shake off the sticky, pale brown blobs. “I’ll never get clean again.”

  As they approached the water’s edge, he saw that the RiverClan cats had clustered together and were waiting for them, blocking their way: Reedwhisker and Graymist, with Otterheart and her apprentice, Sneezepaw. They all looked thin and exhausted, but their eyes glittered with hostility and their fur was bristling as if they would leap into battle for a couple of mousetails.

  Reedwhisker stepped forward. “Have you forgotten what Leopardstar told you at the Gathering last night?” he challenged. “The fish in the lake belong to RiverClan.”

  “We’re not here to fish,” Cloudtail replied calmly, setting down his moss. “We only want water. You’re not going to deny us that, are you?”

  “Are there no streams in your territory?” Graymist demanded.

  “The streams have dried up, as you know very well.” Lionblaze saw the tip of Cloudtail’s tail twitch irritably as he answered; the fiery white warrior was finding it hard to control his temper. “We need water from the lake.”

  “And we’ll take it whether you like it or not,” Berrynose added, dropping his moss and taking a threatening step forward.

  Instantly the four RiverClan cats slid out their claws. “The lake belongs to us,” Otterheart hissed.

  Blossompaw’s eyes stretched wide in dismay and Hazeltail stepped forward, thrusting her apprentice behind her. Lionblaze braced himself and unsheathed his claws, ready to spring.

  Cloudtail whipped around to face his patrol. “Keep your jaws shut!” he ordered Berrynose.

  “Are you going to let them talk to us like that?” Berrynose challenged. “I’m not scared of them, even if you are.”

  Cloudtail stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the younger warrior, his eyes like chips of ice. “One more word and you’ll be searching the elders for ticks for the next moon. Understand?”

  Lionblaze felt a tingle of shock run beneath his fur. Cloudtail was brisk at the best of times, but he’d never seen him this angry at one of his own Clanmates. It was as if collecting water was the most important thing in the world to Cloudtail—and maybe it was, with his Clan weakened by thirst and getting weaker. Lionblaze wondered what would happen if RiverClan succeeded in preventing the other Clans from getting near the water. Would three of the four Clans die out?

  Not waiting for Berrynose’s response, Cloudtail swung around and addressed the RiverClan cats again. “I apologize for my warrior,” he meowed. His voice was tight; Lionblaze could tell what an effort he was making to stay polite. “I think he must have caught a touch of the sun. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d let us take some water.”

  For a heartbeat Reedwhisker paused. Lionblaze felt his paws itch with the urge to spring into battle. Cloudtail had warned them that they were too weak to fight, but he didn’t know that Lionblaze was one of the Three and had the power to fight the fiercest battles without getting a single scratch. But I know we’ve got problems enough without fighting one another.

  Finally Reedwhisker stepped back, gesturing with his tail for the rest of his patrol to do the same. “Take water, but no fish,” he growled.

  We’re not here for fish. How many more times will we have to tell you that? Lionblaze thought.

  “Thank you.” Cloudtail dipped his head and padded up to the water’s edge. Lionblaze followed, aware of the hostile gaze of the RiverClan cats boring into his back, watching his every move. His fury welled up again. This is just stupid! Do they think I can smuggle a fish out under my pelt?

  He could see that his Clanmates were angry, too; Cloudtail’s tail-tip twitched and Berrynose’s eyes were blazing, though he had the sense to keep quiet. The she-cats’ fur was bristling, and they glared over their shoulders at the RiverClan cats as they padded past.

  Lionblaze soaked his moss in the lake water and lapped up a few mouthfuls. It was warm and tasted of earth and weeds, hardly quenching his thirst. He forced himself to swallow, wincing as the gritty liquid slid down his throat. The sun had risen, its harsh rays slashing across the tops of the trees, and there was no sign of a cloud from one horizon to the other.

  How much longer can we go on like this?

  CHAPTER 2

  Jayfeather picked through the herbs in the storage cave at the back of his den. The leaves and stems felt dry and crackly, and their scents were musty. I should be stocking up for leaf-fall, he thought. But how can I when there’s no fresh growth?

  The pressure of being ThunderClan’s only medicine cat weighed like a stone in his belly. He remembered all the times he had grumbled about Leafpool telling him what to do. Now he wished that she had never resigned as a medicine cat and gone to live in the warriors’ den. What does it matter that she had kits? She still knows all about herbs, and what to do when a cat is injured.

  His pelt prickled with the bitter memory of a few days ago, when Briarpaw had pelted into the camp and skidded to a halt in front of his den.

  “Jayfeather!” she panted. “Come quick! Firestar’s hurt!”

  “What? Where?”

  “A fox got him!” The young apprentice’s voice was shaking with fear. “On the ShadowClan border, near the dead tree.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.” Inwardly Jayfeather felt just as scared, but he forced himself to sound confident. “Go find Leafpool and tell her.”

  Briarpaw let out a startled gasp, but Jayfeather didn’t pause to ask why. Grabbing a few stems of horsetail, he raced out through the thorn tunnel and headed for the ShadowClan border. Only when he was already on his way did he remember that Leafpool wasn’t a medicine cat any longer.

  Before he reached the dead tree, the scent of blood led him to his leader. Firestar was lying on his side in a clump of ferns, his breath coming harsh and shallow. Sandstorm and Graystripe were crouched over him while Thornclaw kept watch from the top of a tree stump.

  “Thank StarClan!” Sandstorm exclaimed as Jayfeather dashed up. “Firestar, Jayfeather’s here. Just hold on.”

  “What happened?” Jayfeather asked, running his paws gently over Firestar’s side. His belly lurc
hed as he discovered a long gash with blood still pulsing out of it.

  “We were patrolling, and a fox leaped out at us,” Graystripe replied. “We chased it off, but…” His voice choked.

  “Find some cobwebs,” Jayfeather ordered. He began to chew up the horsetail to make a poultice. Where’s Leafpool? he asked himself in agony. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.

  He patted the poultice onto the gash in his leader’s side, binding it with the cobwebs that Graystripe thrust into his paws, but before he had finished he heard Firestar’s breathing grow slower and slower, until at last it stopped.

  “He’s losing a life,” Sandstorm whispered.

  Jayfeather went on numbly fixing the poultice in place, so that when Firestar recovered he wouldn’t lose any more blood. The time seemed to stretch out unnaturally, and Jayfeather’s mind whirled as he tried to count up how many lives his leader had left.

  That wasn’t his last life, was it? It couldn’t be!

  He had almost given up hope, when Firestar gave a cough, his breathing started up again, and he raised his head. “Thanks, Jayfeather,” he mewed weakly. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine in a few heartbeats.”

  But as Firestar set off back to camp, leaning on Graystripe’s shoulder, with Sandstorm padding along anxiously on his other side and Thornclaw bringing up the rear, Jayfeather hadn’t been able to forgive himself. I needed Leafpool, and she wasn’t here. His former mentor hadn’t appeared until they were within sight of the stone hollow. She had been hunting on the WindClan border, and it had taken Briarpaw all that time to find her.

  “You did your best,” she reassured Jayfeather when he told her what had happened. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

  But Jayfeather wasn’t convinced; he knew that Leafpool would have saved Firestar if she had been there.

  My Clan leader lost a life because of me, he told himself bitterly. What sort of medicine cat does that make me?

  Now he finished sorting through the herbs, picked up a mouthful of ragwort, and set off for the elders’ den. When he ducked under the outer boughs of the hazel bush, he found Mousefur curled up near the trunk, snoring gently, while Longtail and the old loner, Purdy, sat side by side in the shade of the rock wall.

  “So this badger, see, was out lookin’ for trouble, an’ I tracked it—” Purdy broke off as Jayfeather entered the den. “Hello, young ’un! What can we do for you?”

  “Eat these herbs.” Jayfeather dropped the stems and divided them carefully into three. “It’s ragwort; it’ll keep your strength up.”

  He heard Purdy’s wheezing breath as the old loner padded up and prodded the herbs with one paw. “That stuff? Looks funny to me.”

  “Never mind what it looks like,” Jayfeather hissed through gritted teeth. “Just eat it. You too, Longtail.”

  “Okay.” The blind elder padded across and licked up the herbs. “Come on, Purdy,” he mewed through the mouthful. “You know they’ll do you good.” His voice was hoarse, and his paw steps were unsteady. Every hair on Jayfeather’s pelt prickled with anxiety. The whole Clan was hungry and thirsty, but Longtail seemed to be suffering particularly badly. Jayfeather suspected he was giving his share of water and food to Mousefur.

  If I can get Purdy on his own, I’ll ask him.

  Purdy grunted disbelievingly, but Jayfeather heard him chewing up the ragwort. “Tastes foul,” the old loner complained.

  Jayfeather picked up the remaining herbs and padded across to Mousefur. The elder was already waking up, roused by the sound of voices. “What do you want?” she demanded. “Can’t a cat get any sleep around here?”

  She sounded as cranky as ever, which reassured Jayfeather that at least she was managing to cope with the heat. When Mousefur sounds nice and sweet, I’ll really start worrying!

  “Ragwort,” he meowed. “You need to eat it.”

  Mousefur let out a sigh. “I suppose you’ll nag me until I do. Well, while I’m eating it, you can tell me what went on at the Gathering last night.”

  Jayfeather waited until he heard the old cat beginning to nibble on the herbs, then launched into an account of the previous night’s Gathering.

  “What?” Mousefur choked on a ragwort leaf when Jayfeather came to the point where Leopardstar had laid claim to the lake and all the fish. “She can’t do that!”

  Jayfeather shrugged. “She’s done it. She said that RiverClan deserves to have all the fish because they can’t eat any other sort of prey.”

  “And StarClan let her get away with it?” Mousefur hissed. “There were no clouds covering the moon?”

  “If there had been, the Gathering would have broken up.”

  “What are our warrior ancestors thinking?” Mousefur snarled. “How could they stand by and let that mange-ridden she-cat decide that no other Clans can use the lake?”

  Jayfeather couldn’t answer her. He hadn’t received any signs from StarClan recently, not since the beginning of the hot weather. Leafpool would have heard from StarClan by now, he thought. They would have told her what to do to help the Clan.

  Leaving Mousefur muttering darkly over the last of the ragwort, Jayfeather pushed his way out of the elders’ den and headed into the clearing. Passing the apprentices’ den, he picked up a couple of unexpected scents. “Now what’s going on?” he meowed irritably.

  He padded across to the den and stuck his head through the bracken that covered the entrance. He could hear muffled whispering and rustling among the moss and bracken of the apprentices’ nests.

  “Dovekit! Ivykit!” he growled. “Come out of there. You’re not apprentices yet.”

  The two kits scampered out of the den, stifling mrrows of laughter as they halted beside Jayfeather and shook scraps of moss from their fur.

  “We were only looking!” Dovekit protested. “We’ll be apprentices any day now, so we wanted to choose good places for our new nests.”

  “Side by side,” Ivykit added. “We’re going to do all our training together.”

  “That’s right,” Dovekit mewed. “And we’re never going on patrol with any other cats.”

  Jayfeather let out a snort, not knowing whether he felt amused or frustrated. “In your dreams, kits. The other apprentices will tell you where you’re going to sleep. And your mentors will tell you when to patrol, and who to go with.”

  The two kits were silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then Dovekit burst out, “We don’t care! Come on, Ivykit, let’s tell Whitewing that we looked in the den!”

  Jayfeather stayed where he was for a moment as the two kits bundled off toward the nursery. There was an ache in his chest as he remembered when he had been a kit and believed he had a mother to boast to. Now he only had Leafpool.

  As though the thought had called her up, his real mother’s scent drifted toward him as she emerged from the thorn tunnel with the rest of a hunting patrol. Tasting the air, Jayfeather could tell that Dustpelt, Brackenfur, and even the apprentice Bumblepaw were carrying fresh-kill, but Leafpool had nothing.

  Jayfeather’s lip curled into a sneer. All she’s caught is fleas! She’s a medicine cat, not a warrior. She should be helping me, not trying to pretend that her entire history vanished on the day the truth came out.

  He heard Leafpool’s paw steps padding toward him, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He turned his head away, and felt her sadness as she passed him. She didn’t try to speak, but he could pick up her loneliness and sense of defeat as sharply as if they were his own. It’s as if she’s given up every scrap of fight she ever had!

  Jayfeather could sense the awkwardness of the rest of the patrol, too, as if they didn’t know how to treat Leafpool anymore. She had been their trusted medicine cat for so long that they didn’t want to punish her for loving a WindClan cat once, but it seemed as if they no longer knew how to treat her as a much-loved and loyal Clanmate.

  The hunting patrol started to put their prey on the fresh-kill pile. Brightheart followed them in through the tho
rn tunnel; Jayfeather caught the tang of the yarrow she was carrying.

  “That’s great, Brightheart,” he called. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find any, and we’re totally out.”

  “There’re a few plants near the old Twoleg nest,” Brightheart mumbled around her mouthful of stems as she headed for the medicine cat’s den.

  Many seasons ago, a former medicine cat, Cinderpelt, had taught Brightheart the basic uses of herbs and how to treat minor wounds and illnesses. Ever since Jayfeather had become the only ThunderClan medicine cat, Brightheart had been helping him by gathering herbs and dealing with straightforward injuries. He knew she could never be his real apprentice—she was older than him, and committed to being a warrior—but he was grateful for her support.

  Besides, I don’t need to choose an apprentice yet. That was for older medicine cats; he felt countless moons stretching out ahead of him, thrumming beneath his paws like the ancient footprints he walked in by the Moonpool. And of course there was still the Prophecy to fulfill before it was his turn to join StarClan. There will be three…who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

  The sun was well above the trees by now, beating down so that Jayfeather’s fur felt as if it were on fire. I can almost smell the smoke!

  Then his nose twitched. The acrid scent tickling his nostrils really was smoke. His pelt prickling with fear, he tasted the air for a couple of heartbeats, just to be certain, and located the smell at the edge of the hollow, close to the elders’ den.

  “Fire!” he yowled, launching himself toward the smell of burning.

  Almost in the same heartbeat, he stumbled as Dovekit hurtled past him, her pelt brushing his as she raced out into the center of the clearing.

  “Fire!” she screeched. “The Clan is on fire!”

  Jayfeather was impressed that she had smelled the smoke so quickly. I thought my nose was the best in the Clan! But there was no time to think about that now. He had to find the fire and put it out before it spread to the rest of the camp.