“You’ll be sore for a while,” Leafpool warned him. “But you were lucky that no bones were broken.” She rolled a ball of water-soaked moss to his muzzle. “Here, you should drink something.”
“I’m not thirsty,” Jaykit mewed. “I told you, that other cat brought me some water.”
Leafpool pawed the moss away from his mouth. “Tell me about her,” she prompted gently.
Jaykit started to feel uneasy, as if he might have done something wrong. He was puzzled by the tension in Leafpool’s shoulders, and the way the tip of her tail stirred the moss-covered ground. “I’d never seen her before, but she smelled of ThunderClan and she was here in your den, so I guessed it was okay to drink the water she gave me.”
There was a long pause, then: “It was Spottedleaf,”
Leafpool meowed. “One of our warrior ancestors.”
“Like in StarClan? I . . . I’m not dead, am I?”
“No, of course not. It must have been a dream.”
“But why would I dream of a cat I’ve never met?”
“StarClan works in its own way. Spottedleaf chose to come to you for a reason,” Leafpool murmured. She turned away to tidy a wrap of herbs. “Thank StarClan your ancestors took pity on you,” she told him briskly. “You could have died falling
over the cliff. You were lucky you weren’t badly hurt!”
“I feel hurt enough,” Jaykit complained.
“You have no one to blame but yourself. You should never have gone hunting foxes. You’re mouse-brains, the three of you! And you most of all. What were you thinking of, leaving the camp like that?”
Her irritation sparked anger in Jaykit. Ignoring his aching stiffness, he scrabbled to his paws and glared at her. “It’s not fair!” he snapped. “I should be allowed to do the same things as any cat!”
“None of you should have been outside the hollow,”
Leafpool pointed out. “Hollykit and Lionkit have been in serious trouble with Firestar and Squirrelflight.” Jaykit opened his mouth to defend himself, but she went on.
“Thank StarClan that Thornclaw was close enough to save Hollykit and Lionkit from that den. Those fox cubs were old enough to have torn them to pieces.”
Jaykit lifted his chin defiantly. “We were trying to protect the Clan.”
“One day you will,” Leafpool promised. “But first you need to learn as much as you can, which includes learning not to go off by yourself!”
“Do you think Firestar will delay my apprenticeship because of this?” he mewed, suddenly anxious.
Leafpool drew the tip of her tail gently around his ears and said nothing.
“You do, don’t you!” Jaykit wailed. “Has Firestar said anything? Tell me!”
“Dear Jaykit.” Leafpool sighed. “You must know that you can never become an ordinary apprentice like Hollykit or Lionkit.” She ran her tail along his back.
Jaykit shrugged it away. It was as though a gale had swept him up and he could hear nothing but the rushing of wind in his ears. He began to walk to the entrance of the den, but each pawstep made him wince with pain.
Leafpool called to him, sounding unhappy. “Jaykit, wait. I thought you understood. . . .”
“Understood what?” Jaykit whipped around to face her.
“That I’m not good enough to fight for my Clan?”
“This has nothing to do with not being good enough,”
Leafpool meowed. “There are other ways to serve your Clan.”
But Jaykit hardly heard her. “It’s not fair!” he raged. He started to push his way out through the brambles.
“Jaykit!” Leafpool’s voice was firm. “Come back!”
Instinctively Jaykit paused.
“You described Spottedleaf to me perfectly. Have you always been able to see like that in your dreams?”
Jaykit tipped his head to one side. “I guess,” he mewed.
“What do you see?”
“It depends what I’m dreaming about.” Jaykit was growing impatient. How could his dreams help him become a ThunderClan warrior? The hazy images he saw while he slept were pale in comparison to the rich world his senses brought him while he was awake.
“Now tell me which herbs I used to treat you.”
Curious now, Jaykit padded back to his nest, focusing on
the pungent scents that lingered on his pelt, scents left by the herbs Leafpool had massaged into his wounds. “Dock on my scratches and comfrey where my body is stiff.”
“You have a good memory for plants. There are other ways to serve your Clan than being a warrior. You’d make a good medicine cat, for example.”
“A medicine cat!” Jaykit echoed in disbelief. Always stink-ing of mouse bile and cleaning up bad-smelling wounds?
“You could be my apprentice,” Leafpool urged.
“I don’t want to make do with being a medicine cat!” Jaykit hissed. “I don’t want to live half a life, separated from my Clanmates like you are. I want to be a warrior like Brambleclaw and Firestar.”
He turned away from Leafpool, bristling with fury. “I hate being blind. I wish I had never been born!”
Chapter 4
Suddenly the brambles at the entrance of the medicine den trembled, and Hollykit saw the gray-striped head of Jaykit poke out. She nudged Lionkit. “Look!”
“He’s okay!” he mewed in relief.
“Thank StarClan!”
Jaykit turned around and went back into the den.
“Leafpool must be keeping him a bit longer,” Hollykit observed. She dug her claws into the ground to stop her paws from trembling. At least she knew her brother was all right.
But they still had to face Firestar. How was he going to punish them this time?
She glanced around, hoping no cat was staring at them.
Mousefur was leaning against halfrock, a smooth low stone that stuck out of the ground near the entrance to the elders’ den. It would still be warm from the sun. Dustpelt was sharing
tongues with Whitewing beside the thornbush that formed the warriors’ den. His apprentice, Hazelpaw, nodded to him before picking up a mouse from the fresh-kill pile and carrying it over to the apprentices’ den. Her littermates, Mousepaw and Berrypaw, were there already, eating.
Hollykit caught Mousepaw’s eye. The young gray-and-white tom blinked sympathetically at her before looking away. Hollykit lifted her chin a little higher. She wasn’t going to let any cat see how scared she was. She would take her punishment like a true warrior.
She watched Sorreltail carry fresh-kill to her mate, Brackenfur. The dark ginger tom was resting beneath Highledge, his breath hoarse after his bout of whitecough. Sorreltail skirted the clearing, avoiding the kits, and dropped a mouse at his paws.
“How are you?” she asked him.
“Better,” he croaked. “I’ll be fine in a couple of days.
Birchfall’s recovered already, thanks to Leafpool.”
“Well, at least you’re not in the medicine den anymore,”
Sorreltail meowed gratefully.
