The Fourth Apprentice

Snowdrop’s eyes stretched wide. “Oh, wow, a mission!”

“We’re looking for the water,” Lionblaze explained as the rest of his patrol padded up to find out what was going on. Dovepaw brought her thrush, and Rippletail proudly deposited a vole beside it. “We think there are some brown animals blocking the stream.”

“Oh, really? I’ve often wondered what happened,” Snowdrop chirped. “I used to like the stream. It was good to lie on the grass and watch the insects buzzing over the water.”

Toadfoot rolled his eyes.

“Can I come with you?” Snowdrop mewed suddenly. “It would be fun! Maybe the brown animals are dogs-do you think so? Or giant rabbits!”

“No, sorry, you can’t come,” Rippletail meowed. “You wouldn’t be able to look after yourself.”

Snowdrop’s gaze fell on the few pieces of fresh-kill the Clan cats had managed to catch. “You don’t seem to be too good at that yourselves,” she commented.

“We’re fine,” Rippletail replied. “Now run back to your housefolk.”

Toadfoot waved his tail for the patrol to move off. “We’ll eat later,” he growled.

Whitetail grabbed Dovepaw’s thrush while Petalfur picked up the mouse and Lionblaze took the vole. Before jumping into the stream again, he glanced back to see Snowdrop sitting where they had left her, watching them go. Her head was drooping unhappily.

Feeling guilty for abandoning her, Lionblaze darted back. “Here, would you like a bite of vole?” he offered, dropping it at her paws.

Snowdrop’s gaze filled with horror. “With fur and everything? No way!”

Lionblaze heard snorts of amusement coming from his companions. “Okay, bye then,” he mewed hurriedly and ran off to join them, remembering at the last moment to take the vole with him.

The sun had gone down by the time the patrol set out again. In the twilight they came to a steep-sided valley where the trees were much older, with spreading trunks and gnarled branches. Whitetail, scouting ahead, found a split in a huge hollow tree, the floor covered in a thick layer of dead leaves, where there was room for all of them to curl up and sleep.

“Well done!” Lionblaze yawned. “We’ll be safe in here from anything.”

He still thought it best to set up a lookout; exhausted from the night before, when he had taken Dovepaw’s shift as well as his own, he didn’t argue when Rippletail volunteered to take the first watch. He crawled inside the tree, noticing that no cat seemed to be particularly bothered now about whose pelt they brushed against as they lay down, and curled up gratefully beside Dovepaw. He was asleep within moments.

After what felt like just a heartbeat, Lionblaze was awakened by a prodding in his ribs. Moonlight trickling through the split in the trunk revealed Dovepaw looking down at him, her eyes shining.

“What’s the matter?” he muttered.

“I can hear the brown animals!” Dovepaw told him, twitching her tail with excitement. “We’re nearly there!”

CHAPTER 17

Jayfeather lifted his head and tasted the air, which had cooled a little as evening approached. A faint breeze rustled the branches of the trees above the stone hollow and stirred the dust on the floor of his den. A few cats were gathered around the meager fresh-kill pile; their soft voices drifted through the bramble screen, reaching Jayfeather in a blur of sound.

Sighing, he wished that he had Dovepaw’s far-reaching senses, so that he could track her and Lionblaze and the rest of the patrol. They had been gone two days now, and Jayfeather had no idea whether they were still searching, or whether they had found the brown animals and the trapped water. The night before, he had tried to walk in Lionblaze’s dreams and had found himself padding up the dry bed of the stream, with unfamiliar trees arching their branches overhead. He had picked up his brother’s scent, and once he thought he spotted the tip of a golden tail whisking away around a boulder just ahead of him. But however fast he ran he couldn’t catch up, and Lionblaze didn’t respond when he called out.

He’s too far away, Jayfeather thought regretfully as he woke, his legs aching as if he really had tried to pursue his littermate. There’s no way you can catch him now.

His pelt itched with the longing to tell Lionblaze about his encounter with Breezepelt on the lake the day before. He was still shaken by the hatred that had emanated from the WindClan cat, and he seemed to hear the voices of the Ancient Clan, whispering warnings that he couldn’t quite make out.

I can’t believe that mangy flea-pelt is my half brother!

The bramble screen rustled as a cat brushed past it; Jayfeather recognized Dustpelt’s scent.

“I’ve come for more of those herbs,” Dustpelt announced, then added reluctantly, “My back feels much better today, so they must have done some good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jayfeather replied. “Hang on, and I’ll get them.”

As he headed for the storage cleft at the back of the den, Dustpelt called after him, “I don’t want them if another cat needs them more.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jayfeather replied. He collected a few leaves of tansy and some of daisy from the store and headed back to the tabby warrior. “Eat those,” he ordered, pushing the tansy toward his Clanmate.

While Dustpelt was licking up the herbs, Jayfeather chewed up the daisy leaves and made a poultice to spread on the base of the ThunderClan warrior’s spine, where the pain was worst.

“Thanks,” Dustpelt meowed. As he was heading out of the den he paused, acute embarrassment flooding from his pelt. “Ferncloud said I had to thank you from her, too. She said I was being really annoying, complaining about backache without doing anything about it.”

“Surely not,” Jayfeather murmured, faintly amused, as the tabby warrior padded off toward the warriors’ den.

The sound of Dustpelt’s paw steps had hardly died away when another cat popped her head around the bramble screen.

“Hi, Cinderheart,” Jayfeather mewed, breathing in her scent and picking up her anxiety along with it. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Poppyfrost,” the gray she-cat replied, slipping into the den.

“What’s the matter with her?” Alarm leaped in Jayfeather like a jumping fish. “Is it her kits?”

“Oh, no, she’s doing well physically,” Cinderheart told him. “Her belly is about the right size, and there’s no sign of fever or vomiting.”

“Good,” Jayfeather murmured. And you would know-Cinderpelt, he added privately to himself. Only he and Leafpool knew the strange truth about Cinderheart, that she had lived in ThunderClan before as the medicine cat Cinderpelt, who had died saving Sorreltail from a badger at the moment Cinderheart was born. Cinderheart had no idea why she knew so much about herbs, or why memories of ThunderClan’s former home haunted her dreams. Leafpool and Jayfeather had agreed long ago not to tell her; she was a warrior in her own right, and if StarClan had chosen to give Cinderpelt a second chance, they would not interfere.

“It’s just that she’s so quiet and sad,” Cinderheart went on. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

Jayfeather was puzzled. What sort of help does she expect? “I don’t want to give Poppyfrost herbs,” he began, “not when she’s expecting kits, unless it’s really urgent.”

“Yes, but-”

“You told me she’s not ill,” Jayfeather went on, ignoring the she-cat’s protest. “If everything’s okay-”

“It’s not okay,” Cinderheart interrupted in her turn. “Nothing’s okay,” she added wretchedly. “Oh, Jayfeather, I miss Hollyleaf so much!”

Jayfeather felt as though some cat had hurled a rock into his belly. He tried hard every day not to think about his sister, and every day he failed. “So do I,” he replied quietly.

“Yes, you must.” Cinderheart’s tone was full of sympathy. “Losing a littermate is the worst thing ever. Maybe