Warriors: Omen of the Stars #6: The Last Hope (21 page)

“Stay out of this,” the dark tabby warned.

Applefur’s tail trembled. “Don’t go, Beetlewhisker. You’ve got friends here.” Her mew was straining to be cheerful but Ivypool could see fear darkening her gaze.

“Thanks, Applefur.” Beetlewhisker nodded to the ShadowClan she-cat. “But I have to go. This is the right time for me to leave.”

“Really?” Brokenstar’s growl started low and grew louder, sharpening into a screech. The Dark Forest warrior reared up until his shadow stretched right across the clearing. Then he dived toward Beetlewhisker with his forepaws stretched out and his teeth bared.

Beetlewhisker’s eyes widened in horror. He put up his paws to fend off the vicious tom, but Brokenstar knocked him backward with a fierce swipe. Beetlewhisker staggered to his paws, blood spurting from his nose. “StarClan help me!”

“You think StarClan listens to what happens here?” Brokenstar hissed. He lunged again and clamped his jaws around Beetlewhisker’s neck as though he were prey. Eyes shining, Brokenstar lifted his head, hauling Beetlewhisker by his throat until a crack split the air.

Ivypool felt sick as Beetlewhisker fell limp in Brokenstar’s jaws. His body thumped to the ground as the Dark Forest warrior opened his mouth and let it fall.

“Would anyone else like to leave? Applefur?” Brokenstar challenged the ShadowClan she-cat. “Do you want to return to your Clan?”

“N-no.” Applefur shifted her paws.

Ivypool could see her thoughts racing as she met Brokenstar’s gaze. Ivypool pressed against her reassuringly. Every Clan cat must understand now. This place was evil. They had to get out!

“Breezepelt?” Brokenstar turned to the WindClan warrior, who was peering at Beetlewhisker’s body through narrowed eyes.

“Did you hear me?” Brokenstar growled quietly.

“Why would I leave the strongest Clan?” Breezepelt lifted his head. “My Clan wastes too much time looking after the sick and old. If you led us, we’d never have to beg another Clan for help again.”

Ivypool’s chest tightened. How could he sympathize with these murderers?

Brokenstar stepped over Beetlewhisker’s body. Ivypool held her ground as he strode back into the circle, though every muscle begged her to run. “You will all stay here,” Brokenstar told them. “You will all be loyal to me. Or I will kill every one of you.” He thrust his muzzle into Applefur’s face. “Starting with you.”

Applefur swallowed.

“Say nothing to any cat,” Brokenstar ordered. “You will fight alongside us. And if I hear of any one of you spreading rumors and lies among your Dark Forest Clanmates, you will suffer beyond anything you have ever known.” He turned his back and pushed his way between Tigerstar and Hawkfrost. “Go,” he growled, disappearing into the shadow. “Train my warriors. The final battle is near.”

Ivypool felt Tigerstar’s questioning gaze pierce her through the gloom. Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she met his eyes. “My recruits will be ready when the battle comes,” she vowed. “We’re ready to kill every lake cat we meet.” She ignored Applefur’s wince of alarm beside her.
I promise I’m not evil! I’m doing this to save all of us.
Tigerstar watched her for a moment then turned away.

Hawkfrost nodded at Ivypool, his eyes glowing, before following his father. As he passed Beetlewhisker’s blood-streaked body, he kicked it viciously. “I never trusted him anyway.”

Jayfeather wrinkled his nose as he
swallowed a mouthful of herbs. The tansy tasted bitter and would sit like nettles in his belly till sunhigh, but he was determined not to catch any of the coughs and sneezes spreading through the Clan like fleas. He sniffed Briarlight. The tang of green leaves was fresh on her breath. “Have you eaten all of them?”

“Yes.” Her fur brushed the floor as she crossed the medicine den and Jayfeather heard her lapping from the pool. “Why do herbs have to taste so bitter?” she complained.

“It stops the rabbits and mice from eating them,” Jayfeather replied.

The days of rain since the Gathering—nearly a quarter moon ago—had brought with them the first real chill of leaf-fall. The Clan had been sheltering in their dens when they weren’t patrolling, and every sniffle had been passed from nest to nest. Nothing serious, but the sound of coughing and wheezing made Jayfeather edgy.

He had turned Millie away yesterday when she’d come to visit Briarlight. “No cat is allowed in the medicine den except me.”

Millie had tensed, her tail twitching with annoyance, but she hadn’t argued. Jayfeather sensed worry pricking beneath her pelt. Millie wanted to keep Briarlight safe from infection as much as he did. Although Briarlight’s forepaws were strong enough to haul herself onto the fallen beech now, Jayfeather couldn’t predict how well she would fight sickness. The daily ritual of swallowing herbs was the best way he could think of for keeping them both safe from infection.

He pawed through the leaves he’d lined up outside the store. The stock of tansy was lower than he’d hoped. He reached instead for mallow. It should work just as well on Purdy’s cough. He grabbed a wad of leaves between his jaws and headed for the entrance. “Stay in the den,” he ordered Briarlight through clenched teeth. “And no visitors.”

“What if Millie comes?” Briarlight asked hopefully.

“I’ve told her to stay away.” As Jayfeather nosed his way through the trailing brambles, drizzle washed his face. He flattened his ears against it and headed toward the honeysuckle bush. Murmuring sounded from the dens, muffled by leaves that had been pawed into the woven walls to keep out the wind. Jayfeather ducked into the elders’ den. The warm scents of Mousefur and Purdy filled his nose. Purdy was damp and the musky odor of fresh mouse hung in the air.

Jayfeather dropped the mallow beside Purdy’s nest. “Have you been hunting?”

“Mousefur was hungry,” Purdy rasped.

“Don’t use me as an excuse!” Mousefur snapped. “He wanted to hunt,” she told Jayfeather.

“We’ve been stuck inside for days,” Purdy complained. “I needed to get out for a while.”

Mousefur shifted in her nest. “Bored of my company?”

A purr rumbled in the old tom’s throat. “I thought you could do with a break from my stories.”

“Your stories are the only interesting thing that happens around here,” she croaked.

Jayfeather picked up a few mallow leaves and dropped them beside the cantankerous elder. “Perhaps you could spend more time with Lilykit and Seedkit. They’re getting to that restless age.”

“Brightheart’s kits are due soon,” he added. “You’ll be busy enough once they’re bouncing around the clearing looking for trouble.”

“I suppose.” Mousefur sniffed. “No doubt it’ll be up to me to teach them manners. Kits nowadays don’t know how to show any respect.”

Jayfeather’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

“Don’t you believe it,” Purdy whispered. “She was teaching Lilykit and Seedkit how to reach under the wall of the warriors’ den and catch stray tails yesterday.”

“I heard that!” Mousefur snapped.

Jayfeather left the two old cats bickering and pushed through the honeysuckle into the rain. The nursery rustled on the other side of the clearing. Fur scraped thorns and Jayfeather smelled the scent of Cinderheart. She was squeezing into the bramble bush.

Jayfeather crossed the camp and poked his head inside. “Is everything okay here?”

Brightheart shifted in her nest. “Ferncloud’s under the weather,” she puffed. Her belly was so round with kits that even sitting up to talk was an effort.

“She’s got a bellyache.” Cinderheart’s mew sounded beside Ferncloud’s nest. “I thought I’d check on her. You’ve got plenty to do.”

Jayfeather hesitated, uncertain as usual whether he should let Cinderheart act as medicine cat or tell her to go back to her warrior duties. But it was a decision she needed to make for herself. “If you need herbs, let me know,” he told her. “I’ll leave them outside the medicine den for you.”

Jayfeather withdrew, turning toward the apprentices’ den, where he could hear Molepaw coughing.

“Cough again, Molepaw.” Leafpool’s mew surprised Jayfeather. She was already inside the den. Molepaw forced out a cough and Leafpool sat up. “It’s not bubbling in his chest. Perhaps some honey will soothe his throat?” Jayfeather felt her gaze flit toward him.

There are more medicine cats than sick cats!
Ruffled, Jayfeather pushed past Leafpool and listened to Molepaw’s chest. She was right. It sounded clear. “I’ll wrap some honey in a leaf and leave it outside my den.” He turned and stomped from the den.

“That was quick.” Briarlight greeted him as he pushed his way through the brambles and shook the rain from his pelt.

“Cinderheart and Leafpool are helping,” Jayfeather muttered. He padded to the store, hauled out a lump of honeycomb, and folded it in a laurel leaf. Then he picked a few chervil roots for Ferncloud’s bellyache. Grasping them between his jaws, he carried them to the den entrance, thrust his head out, and dropped them on the ground.

A familiar scent surprised him.
RiverClan.
As he slid out into the clearing, he tasted the air. Poppyfrost and Brackenfur were padding from the thorn tunnel. The two warriors smelled fresh from the forest. And there was a third cat behind them, walking into the clearing with hesitant steps.
Mothwing?

Poppyfrost called to him. “Mothwing wants to speak with you.”

“It’s a RiverClan cat!” Squeaking excitedly, Lilykit dashed from behind the warriors’ den.

“Why’s she here?” Seedkit bounced after her sister.

Jayfeather waved them away with his tail and hurried to greet the RiverClan medicine cat. Nodding to Poppyfrost and Brackenfur, he steered Mothwing to the edge of the clearing.

Behind them, Spiderleg grumbled, “Why is she allowed to tramp across our territory when our medicine cat isn’t even allowed at the Gathering?”

Jayfeather ignored him. “What is it?”

“You have to come with me,” Mothwing told him.

Stones clattered as Firestar bounded down from his den. He skidded to a halt beside Mothwing. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Mothwing meowed evenly. “There’s just something I need to show Jayfeather.”

Firestar shifted his paws. “Jayfeather can’t leave ThunderClan territory.”

Mothwing’s pelt brushed Jayfeather’s. “He can for this.”

“What is it?” Firestar thrust his muzzle closer.

“Something only Jayfeather will understand.” Mothwing headed away. “Are you coming?” she called to Jayfeather.

“I’d better go with her,” Jayfeather meowed apologetically to Firestar. He ran after Mothwing as she vanished into the thorns. What was so important that she’d overrule a Clan leader?

Excitement sparked from Mothwing’s pelt as she headed onto the narrow beach and followed the edge of the lake, crossing the WindClan border without even pausing to taste the air. Jayfeather followed, his pads pricking with curiosity. He hardly noticed the rain battering his face. Had Mothwing discovered proof she was the fourth cat? Hope flared in his chest.

A shout from the hillside made him jump.
Crowfeather.
The WindClan warrior was pelting toward them, yowling.

“He’s leading a patrol,” Mothwing warned. She shoved Jayfeather behind her and waited as the WindClan cats swished through the heather.

“What are you doing here?”