Jaypaw could feel Cloudtail’s eyes flashing back at him as the warrior checked that their blind companion was keeping up. But Jaypaw’s paws were swift with fear, and he easily kept pace with Cinderpaw. He could feel her warm pelt rippling beside his, and matched her step for step.
“Tree!” she warned him. But he had already scented its bark and swerved to avoid it.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Mousefur. Why hadn’t he realized that she was so unwell? Longtail had been trying to tell him for days. Guilt gnawed at his belly. Once they had the catmint he would feed it to her himself until she was fully recovered. The sharp little stones on the abandoned Thunderpath grazed Jaypaw’s pads, but he quickened his pace, pulling ahead of Cinderpaw.
Cloudtail halted by the crumbling stone wall around the nest. Jaypaw felt a twinge of nerves. Although he knew the place was empty, it felt dangerous to be going onto Twoleg territory.
Cloudtail jumped up onto the wall first.
“It’s not high,” Cinderpaw mewed.
Jaypaw reached up with his forepaws, and Cloudtail flicked his tail down to give him some sense of how far to jump. He sprang, and as he scrabbled to get a grip, Cloudtail grabbed him by his scruff and swung him over the wall into the long, frost-stiffened grass on the other side.
As soon as he landed, Jaypaw sniffed the air, searching for the catmint. He found a trace of it and began picking his way through the grass.
“Wait for me!” Cinderpaw called, jumping down after him.
She hurried to catch up. “Cloudtail’s keeping guard on the wall,” she panted.
“It’s over there,” he told her.
Cinderpaw sped ahead, and Jaypaw could hear her rooting
about in the vegetation along the wall. “There’s nothing here but dead leaves!” she called back to him. “The frost has killed it all.”
Jaypaw’s belly heaved, and the ground seemed to drop away from beneath his paws. There had to be catmint here!
“Let me look!” he mewed.
He rushed over to Cinderpaw and sniffed at the plants around her paws. He could smell catmint, but it was sour, scorched by the frost.
“It’s all black.” Cinderpaw sighed.
Jaypaw touched it with the tip of his tongue. The leaves felt pulpy and wet. But a delicious flavor seeped from deeper within the plant. He dug down, fearful of damaging roots that might yet recover but desperate to find something that would help Mousefur. Around the base, just beneath the soil, he smelled fresh leaves. Feeling carefully with the tips of his paws, he touched the soft furriness of new growth. Not much, but it was better than nothing. He scraped away the earth and delicately nipped off the new stalks with his teeth. Then, holding them gently on his tongue, trying not to absorb any of the precious flavor, he nodded to Cinderpaw.
“Will that be enough?” she asked.
Unable to speak, he shrugged.
She seemed to understand, for she turned away and began to hurry back to where Cloudtail waited on the wall.
Together they scrambled over and set off back to the camp.
“This is all that was left undamaged,” he explained to Leafpool as he dropped the mouthful of stalks on the floor of the medicine den. He could feel disappointment turning her paws to stone.
“It’s better than nothing,” she meowed. She picked up the stalks with her teeth and hurried out of the den.
Jaypaw followed her. Would Mousefur be worse?
The old she-cat’s labored breathing echoed around the honeysuckle bush. The air smelled bitter, and it prickled with Longtail’s anxiety.
“Is that catmint?” he asked hopefully.
Leafpool dropped it beside Mousefur. “Yes.”
“There’s not much,” Longtail observed.
“It’ll have to do,” Leafpool told him. “Frost has damaged the rest.” She crouched down and whispered to Mousefur, “I want you to chew this and swallow as much as you can.”
Mousefur groaned. Jaypaw slid around beside the old she-cat and pressed his cheek to her flank. She was burning with fever and trembling. Then she coughed and he heard her breath bubbling beneath his ear. He jerked up his head and stared desperately at Leafpool.
“She may be old, but she’s strong,” the medicine cat reassured him. Then she urged Mousefur, “Come on, eat a little.”
The old cat took a few stalks in her mouth and began to chew. Jaypaw felt her pain like thorns in his pelt as she swallowed. She must have seen him flinch, for she lifted her muzzle toward him so that her sour breath ruffled his fur. “What
a fuss you’re making over me,” she rasped. “Anyone would think I was about to join StarClan.” She forced a purr, and Jaypaw felt the pain of it shake her body. “I don’t think they’re ready for me yet. And besides, if I go, who will make sure Longtail remembers to check his pelt for fleas?”
“You’ll be better in no time,” Jaypaw told her, willing it to be true.
Pawsteps padded quickly outside the den, and the honeysuckle rustled. Jaypaw smelled Daisy’s scent at the entrance.
“Leafpool?” The kittypet sounded worried.
Leafpool lifted her head. “Yes?”
“Ferncloud is unwell.”
Alarm shot through Jaypaw.
“What’s wrong?” Leafpool asked.
“She’s wheezing, and her eyes and nose are streaming.”
Mousefur let out an agonized groan. “I went to the nursery yesterday to see the kits,” she croaked.
“Foxkit and Icekit seem fine,” Daisy mewed at once.
“I’ll come and check on Ferncloud,” Leafpool meowed.
“Shall I stay with Mousefur?” Jaypaw offered.
“No.” Mousefur began to cough. “Check on the kits!” She pushed the rest of the catmint away from her. “Don’t waste your time fussing over an old warrior like me.”
“You must take these herbs,” Leafpool insisted, pawing them back under Mousefur’s nose. “You’re not as strong as Ferncloud.”
“Check on the kits first,” Mousefur answered stubbornly.
“Okay, I will.” Leafpool slipped out of the elders’ den.
Jaypaw followed her as she raced across the clearing. He squeezed into the nursery behind her. The familiar smell of his old home was tainted by the smell of sickness. Ferncloud was struggling for breath, and even without touching her, Jaypaw could feel the heat pulsing from her body.
“It’s definitely greencough,” Leafpool announced. “But the kits are not infected.”
“We should get Ferncloud away from them,” Jaypaw suggested.
“I can look after them instead.” Daisy had followed them into the nursery. “They’re close enough to weaning now.”
“Thank you,” Leafpool meowed, nudging Ferncloud to her paws.
Grief flashed from Ferncloud as Foxkit and Icekit began mewling. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised weakly.
Daisy’s fur brushed their tiny pelts as she curled around them. “We’ll have fun with all this space to ourselves,” she told them. “Ferncloud will just be across the clearing. She’s not leaving the camp.”
“Why can’t she stay here?” Foxkit wailed.
“Because we don’t want you getting sick too,” Daisy explained.
“Be good,” Ferncloud mewed, her breath coming in gasps as Leafpool began to guide her from the den.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Icekit called.
