Jaypaw dropped his moss and pricked his ears.
“I need you to share tongues with StarClan,” Firestar meowed softly to the medicine cat.
“You are worried about Graystripe,” Leafpool guessed.
“I have to know who ThunderClan’s rightful deputy is,”
Firestar explained. “Vigil or no vigil, Graystripe was still alive when I appointed Brambleclaw.”
Leafpool paused. “Are you prepared for any answer they give?”
“Graystripe’s my friend. I owe him so much. But Brambleclaw is a brave and loyal warrior.” Firestar sighed.
“Whatever StarClan say, a decision must be made.”
“What if StarClan have no answer for you?”
“Then I will do what I think is best for the Clan.”
“I’ll visit the Moonpool,” Leafpool promised.
Jaypaw’s whiskers twitched with curiosity. He had heard about the Moonpool. It had always sounded so mysterious—
a place where only medicine cats visited to share tongues with StarClan. Would Hollypaw get to go with Leafpool tonight?
As Firestar headed away, Jaypaw recognized Hollypaw’s quick step hurrying toward the medicine den. She halted beside Leafpool. “Are these the right leaves?”
Jaypaw smelled the familiar tang of borage.
“Yes,” Leafpool purred. “Well done, Hollypaw.”
“I knew I’d get it right in the end,” Hollypaw mewed happily.
Jaypaw picked up his wad of moss and nosed his way out through the brambles.
“You took your time,” Leafpool commented. Did she sus
pect that he had overheard his conversation with Firestar? If she did, she gave no sign. “Hollypaw,” she mewed, turning to her apprentice, “you’ll have to sort these leaves yourself.
Make sure you store only the undamaged ones. Damaged leaves will rot before they dry.”
“Won’t you be here to help?” Hollypaw asked.
“I have to go to the Moonpool,” Leafpool explained.
“But you don’t have to leave now. It’s not even sunhigh.”
“Moonhigh is early this season,” Leafpool explained. “I want to make sure I’m there in good time.”
“What if a cat needs treatment?’ Hollypaw mewed anxiously.
“You’ll be fine. Brightheart knows a lot of the herbs and berries,” Leafpool soothed. “Ask her if you need help.”
“Could you show me which herb is which one more time?”
Hollypaw pleaded.
“Okay,” Leafpool agreed. “But then I must go.”
The two cats disappeared inside the medicine den, leaving Jaypaw by himself. His mind was buzzing. He wasn’t going to stay in the camp cleaning out bedding all morning. If Leafpool was going to the Moonpool, he was going to follow her.
He carried the moss across the clearing and deposited it outside Graystripe’s den. Then he headed back toward Leafpool’s den, as if he were going to fetch some more, except this time he hurried straight past the entrance and slipped into the clump of brambles beside it. This was a corner of the hollow too overgrown to be used for sleeping or storing fresh-kill, and Jaypaw knew that the rock wall behind had
crumbled enough to make it possible to climb to the top.
This was the fast route down from the forest that Brambleclaw had used when the patrol had discovered the trapped fox. It was steep, but Jaypaw hoped he could use it to get out of the camp without any cat noticing.
His heart pounding, he plunged through the brambles until he reached the cliff. Sniffing and feeling with his paws, he reached up and dug his claws into a bush rooted a tail-length up the stone. He hauled himself free of the bramble bush, then sniffed for the next hold. Little by little, grasping tussocks of grass for pawholds, he fought his way up, praying that he didn’t give himself away by sending loose stones clattering down into the camp. At last a fresh breeze ruffled his ears. He had reached the top of the hollow. Digging his claws into the soft grass, he dragged himself over the edge of the cliff.
Following the slope of the forest, he headed down the steep bank that led to the camp entrance. On familiar ground now, he stopped a fox-length from the bottom and wriggled backward into the bracken.
A moment later Leafpool came pattering over the forest floor. Jaypaw let her pass, then scampered after her, keeping to one side so that he was never directly behind her. The trees were a good shield, and he wove between them, following his instinct as much as his whiskers. The scent of WindClan soon began to taint the air. Leafpool was heading toward the hilly moorland. But she did not cross the border; instead she veered toward the sun and kept going until the land grew steeper and the trees began to thin.
Jaypaw heard a stream and followed Leafpool’s scent trail as it turned off the soft grass and onto the jagged boulders that lined the tumbling water. He dropped back a little, shivering in the sharpening breeze. There was less vegetation here to shield him. He would have to depend on the camou-flage of his striped pelt against the stony ground. At least the sound of water disguised his stumbling steps. The rocks beneath his paws rose and fell unevenly, and he had to slow down. Fortunately Leafpool’s scent remained strong and steady.
Suddenly his paws started to recognize the path, and images from his dream flooded his mind. He was trekking through the same narrow valley he had visited in his sleep—
which meant that he knew what it looked like. He pictured the rocks that lined his path, sharp as fox teeth. Ahead, he knew that a stream danced down the mountainside, sparkling in the sunlight. He was following Leafpool to its source, and, with a prickle of excitement, he realized that its source must be the Moonpool.
Stones rattled in front of him, and Jaypaw stopped. He guessed that Leafpool was climbing the steep rocks that led up to the ridge. He waited until the noise had ceased and he was sure she had disappeared over the top. Then he followed, scrabbling from rock to rock, grazing his pads on the sharp granite.
Out of breath, he stopped at the top. He shivered; the setting sun must be blocked by the surrounding rocks. He
was at the brink of a hollow; Leafpool’s scent drifted up, mingled with new smells of damp stone, dusty lichen, and water, fresh and sharp with the smell of the mountains. It trickled and splashed, echoing off encircling stone.
As he padded cautiously forward, he realized there were other cats brushing against him, first one side, then the other, unbalancing him.
Voices whispered around the hollow.
“They have come.”
“We must hurry. The moon is rising.”
Jaypaw tasted the air, but he could scent only Leafpool.
Steadying his trembling tail, he listened to figure out where she was. The enclosing rocks amplified her breath as it rippled the water beneath her muzzle. He knew from its soft rhythm that she was sleeping.
Carefully, he followed the slope down toward the pool.
The smooth stone beneath his paws was polished and dimpled, worn into a pathway over endless moons by countless pawsteps. It led him on until water lapped at his paws with a cool tongue. Then he lay down a fox-length away from where Leafpool slept and closed his eyes.
As soon as his nose touched the Moonpool, stars filled his vision. It was as though great paws had swept him up into the inky sky and freed him among countless blue-white lights.
Far below he could see the starlit slopes of the hollow
curving down to the glittering Moonpool. He stared, his breath coming quicker. The hollow was no longer empty but crowded with cats. They lined every ridge, their pelts bathed in moonlight.
He stared harder until he could see every pelt and muzzle clearly. The cats were watching Leafpool, crouching at the water’s edge. He could see himself too, curled up asleep.
