Warriors: Power Of Three 4 - Eclipse (6 page)

“Sorry I didn’t have time to finish this.” He pressed his paws down on the honey parcel, now well bundled in rhubarb leaf, and held it fast while Leafpool wrapped the bark strips around it.

She tucked the last one in place. “You had to look after Toadkit.” Even her mew sounded tired. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

“I’ll check the stores,” he meowed, licking the last of the dock juice from his paws. “You were saying that we need to find out what we’ve got before leaf-fall arrives, in case we need to stock up.” He padded to the rock cleft and squeezed inside before Leafpool could offer to help.

They had only recently discovered this useful gap in the rock wall of the medicine cave. Leafpool had been clearing away the ivy that had gradually been creeping along the cave wall, threatening to dip its greedy roots into the precious supply of rainwater that pooled at the side of the den. The crack was narrow, wide enough for only a small cat to squeeze through, but inside it opened into a space large enough for a nest. Inside it now, Jaypaw had enough room to turn around, and he began sniffing the different piles of herbs, berries, and roots stacked along the wall.

“Pass them out,” Leafpool called. “We can see what we’ve got.”

One pile at a time, Jaypaw pushed them through the cleft.

By the time he emerged, Leafpool had them ordered into neat rows. His sensitive nose placed each scent until he had built a picture in his mind of one small heap piled beside the next: comfrey, mallow, thyme, catmint, poppy seeds gathered in an expertly folded bark shell, and countless more.

“Not much mallow,” Leafpool commented. “And I still want to get more catmint.” Leaves rustled beneath her paw. “I brought back as much as I could carry today, but there’s plenty more, and we should gather it while it’s still in full leaf and dry it to be ready for leaf-bare.”

Drying the leaves in the sun was the best way of making sure they didn’t rot away in storage.

Jaypaw felt a bundle of thyme, tickly beneath his paw. It smelled stale. “How old is this?”

Leafpool bent toward him to sniff it. “Must have been gathered last greenleaf,” she observed. “It’ll have lost a lot of strength. We should get fresh.”

“Do we have any deathberries?” Jaypaw had heard Littlecloud mention the fatal berry last time they were at the Moonpool. It was used only to save the sickest cats from a lingering death. A bushful of them grew on ShadowClan land, and Littlecloud had offered to share them. Leafpool had refused, and Jaypaw sensed a prickle of unease from her now.

“I don’t use deathberries,” she murmured. She began to pick through a pile of coltsfoot. “ShadowClan medicine cats keep them,” she added. “They teach their apprentices how to use them.” Her voice was thick, as though a dark memory filled her mind. “But I won’t teach you.”

Why not? Jaypaw was intrigued by the idea of having the power of life and death in his paws.

Leafpool clearly wanted nothing to do with it. “We must do all we can to help our Clanmates, but it’s up to StarClan to choose the moment of death.” She pushed a pile of leaves toward Jaypaw. Comfrey, by the smell of it. “Sort through these and throw out any that are musty or starting to lose their scent.”

Jaypaw began to turn over each leaf, sniffing them closely and throwing to one side any that were no longer fresh or fragrant enough. Leafpool worked beside him, tearing coltsfoot and rolling it into bundles.

“I haven’t had a chance to ask you since you got back,” Leafpool began. “How was the journey?”

“It was okay.” Jaypaw remembered the terrifying jump over the gap in the steep mountain path, not knowing where he would land, or how far was the drop below him. He shivered.

“What did you think of the Tribe?” Leafpool had met them on the Great Journey.

“They were odd.” Jaypaw tried to fix on what he had found strangest about the mountain cats. “The mountains are tough.

I thought the cats would be too, but they had no idea how to fight off the invaders.” They’re like a Clan in hiding from something.

Jaypaw had pitied the Tribe, huddled in their cave behind their waterfall, always glancing nervously over their shoulders for danger. Even their ancestors had seemed fearful. “I met the Tribe of Endless Hunting,” he ventured.

Leafpool kept on with her work. But the coltsfoot in her paws grew more fragrant, as though her pads were twitching with unease. “What were they like?” she mewed.

“They’re a bit like StarClan.” They had known I would come.

They knew about the prophecy. “But they didn’t try to help the Tribe to beat the invaders.”

“Sometimes even our ancestors are powerless to help us.”

Leafpool sighed.

“But it was like they were lost.” Jaypaw couldn’t shake the idea that the Tribe hadn’t always lived in the mountains; that they had lived far away from the bitter winds and craggy peaks, among cats who were the first to know about the prophecy of three.

Leafpool had paused in her task, and he could sense her watching him, curiosity flashing from her pelt.

“I was surprised Stoneteller was leader and medicine cat,”

he mewed before she could ask any more questions about the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

“It’s a lot of responsibility for one cat,” Leafpool agreed.

She began rolling the coltsfoot again. “Great knowledge can be lonely.”

Jaypaw’s heart lurched. Does she mean the prophecy? Does she know? She can’t! She would have said something. His heart began to slow as he reassured himself that Leafpool would never be able to ignore a secret like that. Nevertheless, he tried to search her thoughts for some clue. The usual fog barred his way. He could sense only wistfulness engulfing her like a cloud. She might not know about the prophecy, but something was troubling her.

Why did she often seem so unhappy? He wanted to cheer her up. “Can I get you some fresh-kill?” he offered.

“No.” Leafpool gave herself a small shake, as though ban-ishing her thoughts. “But you can start putting the comfrey back in storage.”

As Jaypaw backed in through the cleft with a wad of comfrey between his jaws, a voice sounded at the entrance.

“Leafpool?”

Jaypaw recognized Cloudtail.

“You’re here.” The warrior sounded relieved to find Leafpool in her den.

Jaypaw stayed where he was. He could busy himself rolling and stacking the comfrey at the back of the cleft while Leafpool and Cloudtail talked.

“Are you hurt?” Leafpool asked.

“No.” Cloudtail was pacing the cave. “I’m worried about Cinderpaw.”

Jaypaw pricked his ears. So far, only he and Leafpool knew that Cinderpaw had lived before as ThunderClan’s medicine cat, Cinderpelt; that she had been given a second chance to live her life as she had always dreamed—as a warrior of ThunderClan. Cinderpaw herself didn’t realize. But she sometimes showed flashes of knowledge that only memory could have taught her, and she talked about the old forest as though she had seen it with her own eyes. Was Cloudtail beginning to suspect that there was something unusual about his apprentice?

“Is she okay?” Leafpool’s breathing had quickened with his own.

Jaypaw leaned closer to the opening.

“Do you think she’s ready for her final assessment?” Cloudtail asked in a rush. “Honeypaw and Poppypaw are, but I don’t want to put Cinderpaw through the test unless her leg is fully recovered.”

Leafpool hesitated.

Why isn’t she answering? Alarmed, Jaypaw groped for her thoughts. This time he was determined to make it through the fog. His breath caught in his throat. A memory lit Leafpool’s mind, a memory so strong that it couldn’t be hidden.

Walls of rock enclosed a snow-filled ravine. At once Jaypaw recognized the old forest camp he had visited in Cinderpaw’s dream. Snow blanketed the dens and bushes, but a hollow had been cleared in the center, and here limped a gray she-cat, tail down, whiskers white with frost. She was so thin Jaypaw could see her bones like the branches of a leafless tree. A biting wind sent flurries of powdery snow scudding across the makeshift clearing. Jaypaw shivered with cold, caught in Leafpool’s memory like fur in a thistle.

Leafpool was padding toward the gray she-cat, snowflakes dappling her coat. She looked young, with the rounded face of a kit and her fur fluffed up against the cold. “Cinderpelt, let me fetch you some fresh-kill,” she begged. “A hunting patrol has just returned with a blackbird.”

Hope sparked in Cinderpelt’s dull eyes. “A blackbird?” she murmured. “We haven’t seen prey like that for a while.”

“Let me bring you some,” Leafpool insisted.

Cinderpelt’s expression changed abruptly. Now her eyes were like chips of ice. “Don’t waste it on me!” she snapped.

“The elders and queens must eat first. And the warriors and apprentices. They need their strength if they are to find more food.”

“But you need strength, too,” Leafpool argued. “You’re looking after the cats with whitecough. What if it turns to greencough? They’ll need you even more.”

Cinderpelt dipped her head, then spoke more gently. “With this leg, I can’t walk far. Especially when the cold makes it ache. I can get by on less food than the others.” There was grief and longing in her voice. Jaypaw could hear the words Cinderpelt did not speak: If I weren’t crippled, I could be out there too, finding food for my Clanmates. . . .

“She’s fine.” Leafpool’s bright mew jolted him back into the present. His mentor was reassuring Cloudtail enthusiastically.

“Nothing will stop her from becoming a warrior.”

“I’ve noticed her leg is stiff in some of her battle moves.”

Cloudtail sounded uncertain. “I’m worried she’s not telling me when it hurts.”

“Then it probably doesn’t hurt,” Leafpool mewed.

“Perhaps you could watch her next training session?”

Cloudtail ventured. “To make sure?”

“No need.” Leafpool was brisk. “She’s going to make a great warrior. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” Cloudtail assured her. “But I don’t want to push her. If she needs more time to recover I’m happy to wait.”

“You’re not pushing her, I’m sure,” Leafpool insisted.

Jaypaw sensed Cloudtail’s doubt melt away.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” the warrior meowed.

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Are you coming to eat?” Cloudtail asked. “A hunting party’s just returned.”

Jaypaw waited for the two cats to leave before he hopped out of the cleft in the rock. He could still feel Cinderpelt’s grief like a wound in his mind. How had Leafpool pushed it away so easily? She must have felt it; the memory was hers. Yet she had sounded so bright when she had spoken to Cloudtail.

Unnaturally bright, as though covering doubt. Jaypaw picked up a bundle of coltsfoot and headed back into the store. He hoped that Leafpool was right about Cinderpaw’s injury.

Leafpool was sharing a mouse with Cloudtail when Jaypaw nosed his way out of the medicine cat den and padded to the fresh-kill pile.

There was plenty of prey to choose from. Hunting patrols had already stacked it full, and it was hardly sunhigh. As he dragged a shrew from the bottom—so fresh it still felt warm—

the image of Cinderpelt starving in the snowy camp flashed in his mind. Was Leafpool thinking of her old mentor as she ate her meal?

“Jaypaw!” Graystripe was bounding across the clearing toward him. The warrior skidded to a halt. “Eat up! We’re going hunting.”

“Me?” Jaypaw’s heart soared.

“Sorreltail, Mousewhisker, and I will be hunting,” Graystripe corrected him. He must have realized Jaypaw’s disappointment. He whisked his tail along Jaypaw’s flank.

“You’ve got a more important job. Leafpool wants you to come with us to gather herbs.”

Great. Jaypaw suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. He shoved the shrew back under the pile. “I’ll eat when I get back.”

“We’re going down to the lake,” Graystripe went on.

“The lake?” Jaypaw felt a glimmer of interest. The notched stick was on the shore; it was his link to the ancient cats from the tunnels. Maybe to even greater mysteries, if he could just understand what all the claw marks meant. “I guess it’ll be good to get out of camp and stretch my legs.”

“That’s more like it.” Graystripe turned and headed toward the thorn tunnel. Jaypaw could hear Sorreltail and Mousewhisker pacing there impatiently. He hurried after Graystripe, and together the patrol headed out into the forest.

Mousewhisker—only recently made a warrior—was buzz-ing with excitement. “I hope I catch something good! Maybe a squirrel.”

Graystripe purred. “Look out, squirrels!”

The woods were drowsy with heat, the undergrowth limp and fragrant as Jaypaw brushed past it, the air humming with bees. Mousewhisker’s paws thrummed on the leaf-strewn floor as he dashed on ahead. Graystripe hurried after him.

“I wish it could be greenleaf forever.” Sorreltail was padding beside Jaypaw, letting her pelt brush his.

“Yeah.” He drew away from her. He knew this part of the forest well enough not to need guiding. Pushing hard against the leafy forest floor, he broke into a run and charged along the familiar track.

“Wait for me!” Sorreltail called in surprise.

They caught up to Graystripe and Mousewhisker at the top of the rise. The trees ended here as the forest turned to grass-land, sloping down to the lake.

Mousewhisker was panting.

“He almost got his squirrel,” Graystripe meowed proudly.

“But it scooted up that tree.”

Leaves rustled overhead.

“If that dumb blackbird hadn’t called the alarm,” Mousewhisker grumbled.

“You’ll get the next one,” Graystripe told him encouragingly.

Sorreltail kneaded the ground. “I can’t wait to hunt with my kits when they’re warriors.” Pride warmed her mew.

“Honeypaw, Poppypaw, and Cinderpaw will be having their assessment any day now.”

Jaypaw tensed. Was Cinderpaw’s leg really strong enough?

“It’ll be great having them in our den,” Mousewhisker put in. “It might stop the old warriors from hogging the best nests and stealing all the softest moss.”

Graystripe purred with amusement. “We old warriors need the soft moss for our poor ancient bones.”