Warriors: Power Of Three 5 - Long Shadows (15 page)

With a hiss, darkness slammed down over his eyes as if night had suddenly fallen, and he found himself surrounded by the scents of stale herbs and sick cats once more. He bit back a yowl of frustration.

She was going to tell me something!

For a few heartbeats he could still make out Brightspirit’s scent, and a distant echo of her voice. “Seek for the wind. And may StarClan light your path.” Then she was gone.

“Come on, Millie.” Leafpool’s voice sounded close by him.

“Lie down here. Jaypaw fetched fresh bedding for you.”

“Thanks, Jaypaw,” Millie rasped.

Jaypaw tensed. Had the whole of his vision taken only a couple of heartbeats? He helped Leafpool settle Millie and Briarkit, longing all the while for a bit of peace so that he could think about Brightspirit and her mysterious words.

As the sick cats curled up in their nest, Jaypaw heard the sound of racing footsteps drawing closer. What now? He picked up Sandstorm’s scent as she halted by the bramble screen.

“Leafpool, come quickly!” she gasped. “Firestar’s ill!”

Leafpool let out a yelp of horror. “I’m coming!” She slipped past Jaypaw and raced after Sandstorm.

Jaypaw snatched up a couple of the coltsfoot stalks and dashed after her, scrambling up the rocks leading to Firestar’s den without stopping to think about where to put his paws.

When he reached Highledge the smell of sickness struck him like a blow. Inside his den, Firestar was coughing, and as Jaypaw padded up to him he could feel the heat of fever pulsing from his body. Every hair on Jaypaw’s pelt stood on end.

What would happen to ThunderClan now that their leader was ill?

“Thanks, Jaypaw,” Leafpool mewed, taking the coltsfoot from him. “Here, Firestar, eat these.”

“I’m not that sick,” Firestar protested, his voice already roughened from coughing. “You should keep the herbs for cats who need them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Leafpool snapped. “You need them.

I’m your medicine cat now, and don’t you forget it.”

“You were so quiet when you were a kit.” Weary amusement crept into Firestar’s voice. “I never thought you would turn out this bossy.”

“Well, I did, so do as you’re told.” Leafpool sounded full of affection for her father. “Come on—you know the Clan needs you to be strong and fit.”

As Firestar chewed up the herbs, Jaypaw slipped out of the den and down into the clearing. Halting at the foot of the rocks, he tasted the air, hoping to find an apprentice to fetch fresh bedding for Firestar. At least the Clan leader could be kept apart in his den, so that he wouldn’t pass on the sickness to healthy cats.

But instead of an apprentice’s, the first scent Jaypaw picked up was Brambleclaw’s.

“What’s going on?” the deputy asked.

“You shouldn’t go up there.” Jaypaw blocked Brambleclaw from climbing the rocks. “Firestar has greencough.”

“Oh, great StarClan!” Brambleclaw’s voice was shocked.

“You are helping him, aren’t you?”

“Leafpool’s with him,” Jaypaw meowed. “She’ll do her best.”

“I know.” His father sounded a little reassured. “Let me pass, Jaypaw. I’ve got to speak to Firestar about the patrols.”

“Okay.” Jaypaw moved out of the way. “Stay out on the Highledge, though, and talk to him from there. Don’t get too close.”

Jaypaw tasted the air again as Brambleclaw’s paw steps receded up the rocks, but he still couldn’t pick up Foxpaw’s or Icepaw’s scent. This time, it was Graystripe who padded up to him.

“Jaypaw, how is Millie?” he demanded. “She’s really sick, isn’t she?”

Jaypaw would have liked to find a comforting lie, but he knew that Graystripe would never believe it. He nodded, and was almost knocked off his paws by the strength of the agony that surged over him from the gray warrior. Is that love?

he wondered. Does Graystripe care about Millie that much? It’s as if his own life was in danger!

“The silver cat who died,” he mewed. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

Graystripe caught his breath, startled. “Y-yes. Her name was Silverstream. She was Stormfur and Feathertail’s mother.”

He fell silent, wreathed in sad memories.

“You couldn’t have done anything to save her,” Jaypaw told him. “She lives in StarClan, and she’s watching over Millie now. She doesn’t want Millie to join her in StarClan yet, not when she has your kits to care for.”

“You know all this?” Graystripe asked, shocked.

Jaypaw nodded. “I heard her in a vision.”

“It’s so like Silverstream to care,” Graystripe murmured,

“but it’s not much comfort right now. StarClan can’t fight greencough any better than we can here.” He sounded defeated, as if he had made up his mind that he was going to lose Millie as he had lost Silverstream.

Anger scorched through Jaypaw like a devouring flame. Cats won’t die! I’l do something! He wanted to battle the sickness, not only for the dying cats of his own Clan, and for warriors like Graystripe who loved them, but for all the cats of StarClan, And for Brightspirit, he added. She came to help me. And somehow I’ll work out the meaning of what she said.

Still looking for Foxpaw and Icepaw, Jaypaw padded over to the apprentices’ den. Before he reached it, he scented a hunting patrol returning through the thorn tunnel: Brackenfur, Lionblaze, Cloudtail, and Cinderheart. All four of them were carrying prey, but Jaypaw could sense their weariness and discouragement.

It’s happening just like Leafpool said, he thought. So many cats are sick, there aren’t enough for all the patrols.

Jaypaw stuck his head through the bracken that grew against the entrance to the apprentices’ den. Little snuff ling sounds told him Foxpaw was asleep. His breathing was even; the day before, Leafpool had given him a dose of tansy, and it seemed to have cleared up his cough.

One less cat to worry about.

“Hey!” Jaypaw slipped inside the den and poked Foxpaw with one paw. “Wake up!”

“Wha . . . ?” Foxpaw raised his head.

“I need you to fetch fresh bedding for Firestar.”

The ginger apprentice let out a huge noisy yawn. “Can’t some other cat do it? I did the dawn patrol, and a hunting patrol with Sandstorm. She said I could have a rest.”

Jaypaw couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy.

“Every cat is overworked,” he meowed. “Icepaw could help you if you can find her.”

“She’s out hunting with Whitewing,” Foxpaw told him, scrambling to his paws and grunting as he stretched. “Okay, I’m coming.”

“Make sure the bedding’s dry,” Jaypaw instructed as Foxpaw brushed past the ferns into the clearing. “And get rid of the old stuff well away from camp. Firestar’s sick.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Foxpaw’s voice was full of dismay.

His paw steps receded, racing toward the tunnel.

Jaypaw padded over to the fresh-kill pile and collected a squirrel for the elders. Before he reached their den under the hazel bush, he could hear Longtail coughing, and a comforting murmur from Mousefur.

“Here you are.” Jaypaw dragged the squirrel into the den and dropped it beside Mousefur. “How are you, Longtail?”

“His cough’s getting worse,” Mousefur snapped. “When are you going to fetch him some catmint?”

When hedgehogs f ly. Jaypaw suppressed the sharp comment.

“We haven’t got any,” he told Mousefur. “I’ll fetch him some tansy, though, and borage for the fever.”

Mousefur snorted. “A poor medicine cat you turned out to be, if you haven’t even got catmint.”

Once again Jaypaw stopped himself from snapping back at her. He knew that the cranky elder was worried about her denmate. At least the tansy leaves Mousefur had eaten had kept her from getting sick . . . so far.

“Longtail, try to eat some of the fresh-kill,” he urged. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“Okay,” Longtail croaked between bouts of coughing.

“Thanks, Jaypaw.”

With a nod to Mousefur, Jaypaw left the den and padded back to the fresh-kill pile to fetch prey for the sick cats in the warriors’ den. When he pushed his way through the branches, he located Thornclaw and Dustpelt in nests to one side. Ferncloud was curled up close to her mate.

“This is ridiculous,” the tabby warrior was mewing. “I’m perfectly able to go out on patrol.”

“No, you’re not,” Ferncloud told him. “You’re staying here if I have to hold you down.” Jaypaw heard her tongue rasping affectionately over her mate’s pelt.

Jaypaw dropped a mouse in front of Dustpelt and another beside Thornclaw. The golden tabby had been ill for longer than any cat except Millie, and his breathing sounded fast and shallow. He lay on one side, and didn’t respond when Jaypaw checked him with a paw. His pelt was rough and Jaypaw could feel every one of his ribs. Jaypaw’s muscles tensed. Thornclaw could already be on his way to StarClan.

“Is there anything I can do?” Jaypaw felt Ferncloud’s breath warm against his ear.

“Not much, but thanks,” Jaypaw meowed. “Try to get him to eat that mouse when he wakes.”

“I will.” Ferncloud touched her nose to Jaypaw’s muzzle, then went to curl up again beside Dustpelt.

“Jaypaw.” Squirrelflight’s voice came from the other side of the den. “I want you to tell Leafpool that I’m fit enough to go hunting.” Her paw steps approached; Jaypaw could feel pain and stiffness in every movement.

“So you want me to lie to my mentor?”

“Lie? Nonsense! You can tell her my wound has healed.”

Jaypaw sniffed at his mother where claws had slashed down her side in the battle with WindClan and RiverClan. The wound had closed and there was no smell of infection, but her fur had yet to grow back and Jaypaw could tell that her muscles were still stiff.

“You’re not ready,” he growled. “And Leafpool would tell you the same. I’ll ask her to come and check you, and maybe you can start some gentle exercises, but that doesn’t include chasing squirrels.”

Squirrelf light snorted. “ThunderClan needs every warrior we have right now.”

“Yes, we do.” Jaypaw’s patience with his mother was rapidly running out. “But can’t you see you’ll make more work for us if you go back on patrol before you’re ready?”

Squirrelf light’s reply was cut off by the sound of another warrior pushing into the den; Jaypaw picked up Mousewhisker’s scent, which had an edge of urgency. “Foxpaw told me that Firestar’s ill!” he exclaimed.

There was a stir of movement among the other cats. “StarClan forbid!” Ferncloud wailed. “What will we do if our leader dies? WindClan and RiverClan will attack us again for sure.”

“He won’t die,” Jaypaw insisted, putting all the conviction he could into the words. “And if he does lose a life, he still has plenty more.”

“That doesn’t mean he can throw them away,” Squirrelflight snapped. “And Brambleclaw will need to do even more patrols.

What if our leader and our deputy get sick?”

“We’re doing everything we can to fight the sickness,” Jaypaw meowed. “And Firestar is a strong, fit cat.”

“I know, but . . .” Squirrelf light’s voice died away. Jaypaw could sense the same anguish coming from her as he had picked up from Graystripe earlier. Without another word she turned away and padded back to her nest.

Worry surged over Jaypaw again as he thrust through the branches of the warriors’ den and went to collect fresh-kill for the cats in the nursery. He was afraid Leafpool had been right when she said that they were losing the battle. Without catmint, there was nothing they could do.

I have to find some. Somehow I must work out what Brightspirit was trying to tell me.

By the time Jaypaw had finished reporting to Leafpool and taking what few herbs they had to the sick cats, night was falling. He curled up in his nest in the medicine cats’ den, wriggling deep into the moss to block out the sound of Millie and Briarkit snuffling and wheezing close by.

Maybe now I can figure out what I have to do.

Jaypaw remembered his meeting with the beautiful silver tabby, and the warmth in her gaze as she spoke to him. Seek for the wind. But there was wind everywhere; you didn’t have to look for it. It rustled through the branches of the trees, swept over the lake, flattened the moorland grass on the way to the Moonpool. If only it was as easy to find catmint!

Seek for the wind . . . and you’ll find catmint. Was that what Brightspirit meant for him to understand? Excitement tingled through Jaypaw from ears to tail-tip; he f lexed his claws, snagging the moss beneath him. Where did the wind blow harder than anywhere else? Of course! Over WindClan territory!

There was no catmint on ThunderClan territory; the RiverClan supply was too far away, and the sparse undergrowth under the pines of ShadowClan made it unlikely that there was any there. If there was more catmint around the lake, it must be in WindClan.

Jaypaw wanted to leap out of his nest and go charging through the forest, but he knew that would be totally mouse-brained. He didn’t know his way around WindClan territory, and even if he could see, he had no idea where to start looking for the herb.

You’re a medicine cat. You have powers. Use them.

Curling into a tight ball, Jaypaw closed his eyes. He had never walked in the dreams of a cat who was so far away, but Kestrelpaw, the WindClan medicine cat apprentice, had always been open and friendly toward him. Dumb, but friendly . . .

Maybe that would make it easier to step into his dreams.

Jaypaw pictured himself heading out of the camp and through the woods toward WindClan territory. Leaping the stream that marked the border, he swooped across the moorland on featherlight paws, until he reached the top of the hollow where WindClan had their camp. Letting the dream carry him onward, he padded among indistinct shapes of rocks and bushes, focusing on the wide crack in a boulder where Barkface and Kestrelpaw had their den.

Inside the crack, the medicine cat and his apprentice were curled up in nests of moorland grass and feathers that stirred with each breath. Jaypaw’s shadowy form curled up beside Kestrelpaw, touching his warm, soft fur. He slowed his breathing to match the other cat’s; heartbeats later he felt wind buffeting his fur and found himself in Kestrelpaw’s dream.

The young medicine cat was padding over the moor with the scents of grass and sheep all around him. Clouds scudded across a pale blue sky, and dew glittered under the rays of the early morning sun.