Mistystar's Omen Page 7

  “I know what I’m doing,” Mistystar insisted.

  Willowshine raced up. “Mothwing said Reedwhisker was hurt!” She stopped and stared down at the deputy, whose wound was staining the earth beneath him as scarlet as a sunset. “Great StarClan!”

  Mistystar lifted her head high. “I know you can heal him, Willowshine. Please, help him.”

  Willowshine opened her mouth to protest, then shut it with a snap and began examining the injury. Mistystar gazed down at her son. I won’t lose you too, she vowed. I know you need StarClan’s help to survive this, and Mothwing can’t give you that. I’m doing the right thing; I must be.

  A crowd of cats gathered around Reedwhisker. Mothwing brought herbs to Willowshine, then left. Mistystar heard murmurs ripple around the Clan, ranging from puzzled to angry.

  “Where’s Mothwing going?”

  “How can she turn her back on an injured Clanmate? Surely that’s breaking the medicine code!”

  “Mistystar said she wasn’t the medicine cat anymore.”

  “What? In the name of StarClan, why not?”

  Because to Mothwing, StarClan doesn’t exist! Mistystar thought desperately. She watched as Willowshine carefully rinsed Reedwhisker’s wound, then packed it with cobwebs and freshly pulped herbs. Reedwhisker’s eyes remained closed, and his breathing was so shallow his flank barely moved. Mistystar couldn’t bear to see him suffer any longer. She padded out of the camp and headed into the densest part of the territory. She crawled into a patch of brambles and curled up, wrapping her tail over her nose.

  StarClan, we need you now! Guide Willowshine’s paws; help her to heal Reedwhisker’s injuries and make him strong again. Please don’t take my last kit from me!

  The air stirred beside her, and a faint scent drifted through the thorns. Mistystar lifted her head. “Stonefur?” She could just make out a shape against the brambles, gray-furred and broad-shouldered. “Stonefur! Have you come for Reedwhisker? Please don’t take him to StarClan yet!”

  Her brother leaned toward her until she felt his breath on her cheek. “Reedwhisker’s life hangs by the thinnest fish scale,” he whispered. “He needs all the help he can get.”

  “Then speak to Willowshine!” Mistystar begged. “Tell her what she should do!”

  Stonefur shook his head, almost in sorrow. “The lake is not the only source of prey,” he mewed, echoing what he had said before. “RiverClan has another medicine cat.”

  “But Mothwing doesn’t believe in you! How can she be a true medicine cat? She has lied to the whole Clan, and she will be forever blind to what you tell her.”

  “Did StarClan tell you how to give birth to your kits?” Stonefur queried.

  Mistystar gazed at her brother in astonishment. “No, of course not.”

  “So you trusted your instincts, and acted alone?”

  “Well, I had Mudfur to help me, but yes, I guess my instincts told me what to do,” Mistystar admitted. She had no idea where this was leading. Beside her, Stonefur was starting to fade. Mistystar reached out with her front paw, trying to hold the vision where it was.

  “Perhaps you should trust Mothwing to act alone,” came the last whisper.

  Dazed, Mistystar shoved her way out of the brambles. On the last tendril, a pale green pod balanced, so delicate that Mistystar could almost see through it. Something made her pause, and as she watched, the pod began to split open. A damp, folded brown creature emerged, not much thicker than a twig. The sides of the pod fell away, leaving the creature clinging to the bramble. Mistystar watched, entranced, as the tiny shape stretched out first one wing, then the other. They gleamed in the pale light, thinner than gossamer and lifted by the softest breeze. As the wings dried, bolder colors appeared: rich fox-colored brown, bright circles of blue edged in white, and specks of black that looked like the opposite of stars. It was a moth!

  Does it know what it is? Mistystar wondered. Fly, little one! That’s what your wings are for!

  The moth clung to the tendril, its wings trembling. Then, with a twitch of its hair’s-breadth legs, it flexed its wings and let the breeze lift it into the air. It hung for a moment above the bramble; then its wings folded and unfolded in a single heartbeat and the moth soared up through the brambles, flitting past the thorns and out into the cold, crisp sky.

  Mistystar realized she had been holding her breath. Did the moth have its own StarClan? Or had it really emerged all on its own, known how to spread its wings and take flight purely by instinct? Stonefur’s words came back to her, and Mistystar’s fur started to tingle. You sent this moth, didn’t you, Stonefur? You meant this to be an omen—an omen for me that I should trust Mothwing’s instincts, and not judge her for what she does not do.

  Chapter 10

  Mistystar raced back to the camp and burst through the entrance. The clearing was empty and quiet. There was no sign of Reedwhisker or Willowshine or the cats who had clustered around them. Surely Reedwhisker hadn’t died! Was she too late? She spotted Graymist emerging from the dirtplace and called over to her.

  “Where is he? Where is Willowshine?”

  Graymist looked at her, and Mistystar flinched from the judgment in her gaze. “They are in the medicine cats’ den,” she meowed.

  Mistystar couldn’t bear to ask how Reedwhisker was. She fled to the rocks and peered in. Willowshine was bent over the deputy’s still, black shape. “Is . . . is he alive?”

  “Just,” mewed Willowshine without looking up. “I’m doing everything I can.”

  Mistystar stepped forward. “Where is Mothwing?”

  Anger prickled from Willowshine’s fur. “In the elders’ den. Where you sent her.”

  Mistystar swallowed. “I made a mistake,” she whispered. Then she turned and ran out of the den. She went over to the bush that sheltered the elders in their twilight moons and ducked her head into the den. “Mothwing?”

  There was a faint stirring in the shadows. “Yes?”

  “Mothwing, Reedwhisker needs you.” Mistystar paused. “I need you. Please don’t let me lose my son.”

  Mothwing padded across the den and pushed her way out as Mistystar stepped back. Her blue eyes were wary and watchful.

  “I was wrong,” Mistystar confessed. “You are still the RiverClan medicine cat. It is not up to me to take that away from you.” She pictured the moth, proud and strong and utterly confident that it could fly without any help. “Please forgive me, Mothwing.”

  Mothwing stretched until her muzzle rested on top of Mistystar’s head. “I will do everything I can for Reedwhisker,” she promised. Then she brushed lightly past Mistystar and vanished into her old den.

  Mistystar forced herself not to follow. Reedwhisker was in the best place to recover; she would only get in the way. Suddenly she knew where she had to go. She turned and trotted toward the entrance. She met Beetlewhisker just outside. “Is Reedwhisker okay?” the warrior asked.

  “Mothwing and Willowshine are with him,” Mistystar replied. When she saw his look of surprise, she added, “RiverClan is blessed by StarClan to have two medicine cats. You can tell the rest of the Clan that, if you wish.”

  Beetlewhisker held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. “As you say, we are very lucky,” he meowed.

  Mistystar began to move off. Beetlewhisker called after her, “Do you want some company?”

  Mistystar shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll be back later; I promise.”

  She jumped over the stream and ran across the marsh, bouncing from tussock to tussock to keep her paws out of the mud. As she trotted along the shore, she looked across the ruffled water to the RiverClan camp, hidden among its sheltering bushes. “StarClan, help Mothwing and Willowshine,” she prayed.

  At the stream that divided WindClan from ThunderClan, she started to climb. She didn’t meet any patrols, though she saw a group of WindClan cats racing over the moor in the distance. She still couldn’t figure out how they managed to move so fast. Up and up she climbed, until her paws ached. At l
ast the circle of bushes appeared above her, and she found herself at the top of the paw-dented path that led down to the Moonpool.

  She settled down with her nose just touching the ice-cold water, and closed her eyes. She wanted to dream herself into StarClan, find Stonefur, and let him know that she had seen his sign. A soft breeze ruffled her fur and she opened her eyes expectantly. To her disappointment she was still beside the Moonpool. Bare walls of stone encircled her, and the gray sky above was empty of stars. Mistystar felt a faint tremor of alarm. Was it a bad omen if StarClan wouldn’t let her in?

  Then she noticed a cat walking down the path toward her. For a moment she didn’t recognize the sturdy shape and long brown pelt; then she realized it was Mudfur, the medicine cat who had stayed behind in the forest because his bones were too old for the Great Journey. Mistystar scrambled to her feet.

  Mudfur padded closer until he was facing her, barely a fox-length away. He dipped his head in greeting, then gestured with his tail. “Let’s sit,” he suggested. Still stunned by his appearance, Mistystar folded her haunches underneath her. Mudfur took a long breath. “I realized that Mothwing didn’t believe in StarClan quite quickly,” he began, staring out over the pool. “But I never saw any reason to challenge her. I could tell she was going to be a good medicine cat. She was smart and calm, and kinder than I was to cats in pain! Being a medicine cat is first and foremost about serving your Clan, and I knew that Mothwing would do that with every beat of her heart.”

  “But what about the rest of her responsibilities?” Mistystar argued. “Seeing signs from StarClan, performing ceremonies?”

  “StarClan can speak to any cat they want,” Mudfur replied. “We all have dreams, not just medicine cats. As for ceremonies, if Mothwing said the right words, how would any cat know what she thought in her own mind?”

  “But there was a sign! You chose her because you found the wing of a moth!”

  Mudfur looked down at his paws. “Ah, yes, so I did. At least, that’s what made my mind up. Maybe it was a real sign; maybe it wasn’t. If it was, then it meant StarClan saw her skills before any of us did. And if it wasn’t, well, I figured they’d find a way to tell me something different before too long.”

  “But they never did, did they?” Mistystar whispered. “StarClan allowed Mothwing to become our medicine cat even though they knew she would never listen to them.”

  “I’ve had a long time to think about this,” Mudfur meowed. “Faith is not just about believing in warrior ancestors. It means being loyal to whatever is most important to you. For Mothwing, this is her Clan and her Clanmates. What else does a medicine cat need?”

  Mistystar looked at the Moonpool, gray and lightless beneath the sky. What else, indeed? Mothwing had not stopped caring for her Clan since the moment she became Mudfur’s apprentice. Like the moth, she had taught herself to fly alone.

  “Mistystar?”

  Mistystar jerked around. Mudfur had vanished, and Mothwing was standing behind her. Why was she here, and not with Reedwhisker? The breath suddenly caught in Mistystar’s throat. “Reedwhisker. . . ?” she rasped.

  “Is sleeping peacefully,” Mothwing finished for her. “There are no signs of infection, and as long as he stays still for a while, the wound will heal.”

  Mistystar sagged with relief. “Oh, thank StarClan,” she breathed. Then she straightened up. “And thank you, Mothwing. For . . . for everything. How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t,” Mothwing replied. “But I often come here when I need some time to think. All the wisdom of the medicine cats that have come before me must have rubbed off on these stones somehow!”

  “And yet you don’t believe in anything that they do,” Mistystar murmured.

  Mothwing looked sharply at her. “I believe in the importance of learning from what has been discovered before. And in how precious health is, and how hard I must work to preserve it in all my Clanmates. The fact that the world of signs, omens, and dreams that have hidden meanings is closed to me doesn’t feel like something is missing, Mistystar. I respect what you believe. You must respect what matters to me.”

  Mistystar nodded. “Who would have thought that a moth would have so much to teach me?” she whispered, half under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  Mistystar let her tail rest on her friend’s shoulder. “Just something for me to remember,” she purred. “Now, shall we let our old bones rest for a while before we go back to our Clan?”

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Victoria Holmes

  KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT

  When Hollyleaf disappeared in the tunnels by the lake, ThunderClan believed she was lost to them forever. But her adventure was only beginning. Lost and lonely, Hollyleaf soon meets a mysterious cat named Fallen Leaves, who teaches her how to live in the tunnels. But Hollyleaf can’t help wondering if leaving her Clanmates was the right choice. She knows she’s a ThunderClan cat at heart, but can she ever truly go back?

  Chapter 1

  Thunder crashed, louder than anything Hollyleaf had heard before. There was a ripple overhead and a strange cracking sound. The sky is falling! And then it was all around her, sharper and harder than Hollyleaf expected, throwing her to the ground and crushing her bones. I can’t breathe! She struggled frantically, feeling her claws rip, but the sky was too heavy, too cold, and she let the endless dark sweep her away.

  Hollyleaf was standing on the edge of a cliff. Behind her, the hollow yawned like a hungry mouth. Flames, hissing and orange, filled the air with smoke and bitter ash. Hollyleaf’s littermates, Lionblaze and Jayfeather, crouched beside her; she could feel them trembling against her fur. In front of them, Ashfur stood at the end of a branch that would lead them through the fire. Squirrelflight stood next to him, fury blazing in her eyes. Hollyleaf stared at her mother, waiting for her to move Ashfur out of the way.

  “Enough, Ashfur,” Squirrelflight hissed. “Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

  Ashfur looked at her in surprise. “You don’t understand. This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . . If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

  Squirrelflight met his gaze. “Kill them, then. You won’t hurt me that way.” She took a step away from him, then looked back over her shoulder. “If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that. They are not my kits.”

  The ground lurched beneath Hollyleaf’s paws. Squirrelflight is not my mother? Hollyleaf was Clanless, codeless. She could be a rogue, even a kittypet. There was no way Hollyleaf could let Ashfur tell the four Clans about Squirrelflight’s confession. She and her littermates would be driven out! Everything they had done up till now, all their loyalty to the warrior code, would count for nothing.

  The silence was deafening, pressing more heavily on Hollyleaf’s ears than the stones that pinned her to the cold floor. Dust filled her mouth and nose, and pain stabbed through one of her legs. I’ve been buried alive! Hollyleaf thrashed and bucked against the weight of the rocks. Her head broke free with a shower of small stones. There wasn’t a sliver of light from the mouth of the tunnel. She was trapped in the dark.

  “Help! Help me! I’m stuck!”

  She stopped. Who was she calling to? She had no Clanmates now. She had left that life behind—on the other side of the rocks, as far away as if it were the moon. Her brothers and Leafpool knew that she had killed Ashfur. And now Jayfeather and Lionblaze probably thought she had died in the rockfall. Maybe it’s better that way. At least they won’t come looking for me. Hollyleaf closed her eyes again.

  Hollyleaf had followed Ashfur to the WindClan border. She had stalked him like she would a piece of prey, treading softly, claws sheathed to keep them from catching in brambles or s
cratching on stone. When he reached the bank of the stream, with the water foaming far below, Hollyleaf sprang on him, twisted his head to one side, sank her teeth into his fur and skin, telling herself over and over: This is the only way! Ashfur dropped to his belly and Hollyleaf jumped back as he rolled into the stream. She washed the blood from her paws, letting the cold water chill her legs, her flanks, all the way to her heart. I did it for my Clan!

  Hollyleaf forced the images from her mind with a shudder. Taking a deep breath, she wriggled her front paws free and pushed away the stones that were pressing against her chest. Then she reached out as far as she could and started to haul herself out. She hissed when one of her hind legs moved. It was so painful, her leg felt as if it might be broken. Hollyleaf pictured the well-stocked medicine den, with comfrey to mend the bone and poppy seeds to help her sleep through the worst of the discomfort. As far away as the moon, she reminded herself. Gritting her teeth, she dragged the rest of her body out of the stones. Her wounded leg bounced agonizingly onto the floor.

  “Great StarClan, that hurts!” Hollyleaf growled. Speaking aloud seemed to help, so she carried on. “I’ve been down here before. I know there are other ways out. I just need to follow this tunnel until I find a source of light. Come on, one paw in front of the other.” In spite of her fear, in spite of the pain in her leg, the memories kept flooding back. . . .

  “I am your mother, Hollyleaf,” Leafpool had whispered. Hollyleaf shook her head. That was impossible. How could she be the daughter of a medicine cat, when medicine cats were forbidden to have kits? Worse than being a rogue or a kittypet, her own birth had broken the code of the Clans.

  Hollyleaf unsheathed her claws to give her a better grip on the stone. To her dismay, several of them had already broken off in her struggle to get out, and the tips of her pads felt wet and sticky. She smelled blood and pictured the trail she was leaving as she crawled along the tunnel. If Lionblaze and Jayfeather dug through the rockfall, they’d know she’d survived and would follow the trail to find her. Suddenly her front paws thudded into stone. She yelped with pain and swiveled sideways to follow the curve of the wall. It was so dark, she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open. If I can just find some light. If, if, if . . .