The Sight

get to show his Clanmates would be from falling down rabbit holes.

Why couldn’t he do something real to help his Clan, like

Lionpaw? He had patched up his Clanmates after they’d driven the dogs away, but that wasn’t the same as fighting on behalf of his Clan.

“It sounds like it’s still raining,” Leafpool commented as he padded into the den.

“It’s not as heavy now,” Jaypaw told her.

“Well, at least there may be new herbs to gather by full moon,” she mewed hopefully.

Jaypaw wasn’t so sure. The air had been tinged all day with the raw scents of the mountains; he had a feeling that ice would claw the forest once more before newleaf brought fresh life. “Perhaps we should look for the first leaves tomorrow,” he suggested as he curled into his nest. Before frost has a chance to destroy them.

“Perhaps,” Leafpool murmured, already half-asleep. “But let’s not gather them too early, before they’ve had time to grow.”

Jaypaw wanted to argue, to point out the change in the wind. But since Firestar had dismissed his warning about the dogs, he had burned with resentment. What’s the point in warning them if they only ignore my advice?

Jaypaw did not dream, and when he lifted his nose from his nest at dawn, the sharp tang of ice in the air stung his nose. He knew without doubt that a heavy frost lay thick over the forest. He stretched and realized that Leafpool was already awake, raking through her herb supply.

“We should have gathered herbs yesterday,” she fretted.

“Are we running low?” Jaypaw padded sleepily to her side.

He could tell that some scents were missing from the pungent mixture of smells.

“This is the worst time of year.” Leafpool sighed. “There are precious few fresh herbs, and the Clan is at its weakest after a long leaf-bare.”

“At least there’s been more prey since the last frost,”

Jaypaw pointed out.

“It’ll have all bolted back into its burrows now,” Leafpool warned. “Some of the warriors will go to their nests hungry tonight.”

The frozen brambles at the entrance to the den crackled, and Jaypaw scented Longtail pushing his way through.

His anxiety turned to irritation. No wonder supplies were running low. He had been doing nothing but padding back and forth to the elders’ den with herbs for Mousefur. The elderly warrior claimed she was fine, but Longtail kept worrying over her like a fretful queen fussing over her kit.

“Mousefur’s wheezing,” Longtail announced.

Of course she’s wheezing, Jaypaw thought irritably. She’s older than the Sky Oak, and it’s freezing!

He turned to the pale tabby elder. “We’ve tried just about every herb already.”

“Let’s try juniper berries this time,” Leafpool suggested.

Or a pawful of poppy seeds, Jaypaw muttered to himself. She might sleep long enough to give me a break.

“Here.” Leafpool rolled a pawful of small berries toward Jaypaw. “Take these to her.” Their aromatic flavor filled his nose. He bent and picked them up carefully between his jaws.

Then he turned and followed Longtail back to the elders’ den.

The twining honeysuckle was stripped of its greenleaf foliage, and drafts whipped around the den like swirling water.

“Jaypaw,” Mousefur greeted him. “You’re not back again!”

Her voice seemed to scour her throat like dried thistles. “You should be with cats your own age instead of spending every waking moment in here.”

Jaypaw’s tail twitched with frustration. If only!

“He’s here so often only because he’s worried about you,”

Longtail meowed.

“Because you’re worried about me,” Mousefur corrected.

“You really shouldn’t fuss so much. A cat my age is bound to feel the cold more easily.”

“But your eyes and nose are streaming,” Longtail pointed out.

“That’s just the cold air,” Mousefur croaked.

“I can get Brambleclaw to organize some warriors to pad your den walls, if you like,” Jaypaw suggested.

“That would be kind,” Mousefur admitted. “The chill does seem to have reached right to my bones this morning.”

Jaypaw nosed the berries toward her. He could tell she was shivering, and yet heat flooded from her. It seemed strange, but he had been to check on her so many times, he still thought Longtail was fussing over nothing.

“I’ll speak to Brambleclaw,” he promised. Perhaps if he got their den fixed, the two elders could manage without him for a while.

He turned and padded out of the den, lifting his nose to scent for Brambleclaw. As he scanned the camp, he stopped dead. A tiny prick of doubt, which had been smothered by irritation with the two elders, broke through. Mousefur had accepted his help too easily. And her breathing was irregular.

He swung his muzzle back toward the den. The pungent juniper berries had masked another smell—the smell of illness.

Mousefur really was sick.

He pelted toward the medicine den, his paws skimming over the icy ground. Crashing through the patch of brambles, he skidded to a halt.

Leafpool’s pelt bristled in alarm. “Jaypaw!”

“Mousefur has greencough!”

“Are you sure?”

Jaypaw listed the symptoms. “Irregular breathing, streaming eyes and nose, wheezing, fever . . .” Fever! That explained the heat he had felt coming off her in waves.

“We need catmint,” Leafpool meowed, rushing out of the medicine den.

Jaypaw knew that catmint was one of the missing scents when Leafpool had raked through the herbs earlier. He followed his mentor out and paced anxiously as she called to Cloudtail.

“You must fetch catmint,” Leafpool explained as the warrior came racing to the medicine cat’s side. “At once!”

Surprise sparked from the warrior. “Catmint? Why?”

Leafpool’s pelt ruffled with uncertainty. She obviously

didn’t want to spread panic through the Clan. She lowered her voice. “Mousefur is ill.”

Cloudtail kneaded the ground anxiously. “Where do I get it from?”

“By the old Twoleg nest,” Leafpool told him.

“I know what it smells like,” Jaypaw mewed. “I’ll be able to find it.”

He sensed Cloudtail’s doubt at once. “Medicine cats can run, you know! And I’ll be able to spot it quicker than you.”

“He’s right,” Leafpool agreed.

“Okay,” Cloudtail mewed. “We’ll take Cinderpaw with us.

She can help carry it back.” He called across the clearing to his apprentice. She was sharing tongues with Poppypaw, but at Cloudtail’s call, her small steps came pattering toward them over the frosty ground.

“What is it?” she mewed.

“We have to find catmint,” Jaypaw told her. “Mousefur is ill.”

Cinderpaw gasped. “Catmint’s for greencough, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” Cloudtail ordered. “There’s no time to waste.”

He raced toward the thorn barrier, and Jaypaw hurried after him. Once out of the camp they headed straight for the dis-used Thunderpath.