Leafpool's Wish, Page 4

  She realized her paws were trembling. She tried to picture the skeletons of shrews and rabbits that Cinderpelt had used to demonstrate the way bones fitted together. For a moment she hesitated, terrified that she was going to damage the apprentice even more.

  Brackenfur murmured in her ear, “I know you can do this, Leafpool. Go on.”

  Leafpool took a deep breath and curled one paw over Whitepaw’s tail, close to the tip. She rested her other paw on the base of the little cat’s spine. With Brackenfur holding the haunches steady, Leafpool began to twist the tail. Whitepaw’s eyes stayed shut but she let out a dreadful screech. Brightheart lurched forward but Cloudtail held her back. Brackenfur grunted with the effort of holding Whitepaw still. Leafpool kept up the pressure until she felt a tiny click underneath Whitepaw’s fur. Suddenly the tail relaxed in her paw and Whitepaw gave a small sigh.

  “You did it!” breathed Brightheart.

  Whitepaw shivered and opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she mewed.

  “You’re safe,” Brightheart told her. She ran her paw over Whitepaw’s head. “Leafpool has fixed your tail.”

  “My mouth hurts,” Whitepaw whimpered. The swelling on her jaw was making it difficult for her to speak.

  “Perhaps next time you see a hare you’ll let it run away,” Leafpool mewed. “You’ll have a nasty bump there for a little while, but I can give you something to help with the pain. Thornclaw, Brackenfur, carry Whitepaw into my den. I’ll send Birchpaw to fetch clean moss and feathers for her nest.”

  Thornclaw carefully eased Whitepaw onto her mentor’s shoulders and with Brightheart holding her steady, they made their way to the cleft in the rock.

  “You did very well, my dear,” commented a voice behind Leafpool.

  “Sandstorm!” she meowed. She hadn’t realized her mother had been watching.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Sandstorm mewed, her green eyes glowing. “You even managed to keep Brightheart calm.”

  “No queen wants to see her kits in pain,” Leafpool meowed.

  “Of course not,” Sandstorm agreed. She took a step forward and let her tail tip fall against Leafpool’s flank. “Even when her kits are grown up, a she-cat is always a mother.” Her breath was warm and sweet scented. “Are you all right, Leafpool?” she murmured. “You seem distracted at the moment, as if something is troubling you. You can tell me anything, you know.”

  No I can’t! Leafpool felt a tiny quiver inside her, and suddenly she wanted to get out of the hollow, away from Sandstorm’s too-close questions, from her mother’s knowledge of what an expecting she-cat looked and smelled like. “I need to fetch fresh stocks of yarrow,” she meowed. “Tell Brightheart to stay beside Whitepaw, but she mustn’t give her any poppy seeds. I won’t be long.”

  Sandstorm nodded, looking troubled, but she didn’t try to stop her. Leafpool turned to push her way out of the barrier of thorns. Without thinking, she headed up the slope toward the ridge. There was yarrow closer to the camp, beside the lake, but her paws carried her to the plants that grew along the edge of the stream on the border with WindClan. She breathed in the scents of moorland and rabbit, and felt the kits shift inside her. Do they know this is where their father comes from?

  She had just nipped through a fleshy yarrow stalk when she heard the sounds of cats approaching on the other side of the stream. A WindClan patrol! Leafpool poked her head up to see four cats racing over the grass. Crowfeather was leading, his dark gray fur flitting like a shadow across the ground. A black she-cat ran close beside him, matching his stride.

  Leafpool bolted out of the stream and ducked under a holly bush. The prickly leaves grazed her fur as she crawled out of sight. She knew she had done nothing wrong, crossed no boundaries, taken nothing that belonged to WindClan, but she wasn’t ready to face her neighbors’ scrutiny, not so soon. She heard the WindClan cats pause to renew scent marks, then continue on up the hill. Leafpool waited for a few moments, then wriggled out and shook bits of twig from her fur.

  She returned to the stream and was dragging the bitten stalk of yarrow up the bank when a voice startled her.

  “Did you think I hadn’t noticed you? I’d know your scent anywhere!”

  Leafpool dropped the stalk, which fell into the stream with a splash. “Crowfeather! What are you doing? Where is your patrol?”

  “I sent them on to check the marks beyond the ridge.” Crowfeather’s blue eyes were huge and searching. “I . . . I wanted to see how you were.”

  Leafpool took a step back from the bank. “I’m fine. Busy, as you can see.”

  Suddenly Crowfeather leaped across the stream. His scent wafted over Leafpool and the nearness of him made her want to press against his shoulder and feel the warmth of his pelt. “I have missed you,” he whispered, so close she could feel his breath on her muzzle. “I need you with me. I wish things could be different.”

  “I wish that too,” Leafpool mewed. “More than you could possibly know.” She pictured Whitepaw’s frail body lying in the clearing, Mousefur’s seeping tick wound, Berrykit’s pricked foot. These were the cats that really needed her. She straightened up. “But we can’t change anything, Crowfeather. It’s over. I am ThunderClan’s medicine cat, until the day I join StarClan.”

  She felt Crowfeather pull away and stare at her. Did he think he could go back to the way things were? Whatever happens now is my destiny, and mine alone. He cannot be part of it! “I think you should leave,” she meowed. “Your patrol will come looking for you soon. Do you want them to doubt your loyalty all over again?”

  Crowfeather blinked. “I thought we didn’t care what our Clanmates believed about us.”

  “Well, I do,” Leafpool meowed. “Go back to your Clan, Crowfeather. I won’t let you ruin everything again.”

  It was as if she had struck the WindClan warrior a physical blow. He flinched away with hurt in his eyes. “If that’s what you really want,” he murmured.

  “It is,” Leafpool growled. Inside her, the kits squirmed so fiercely that Leafpool was convinced Crowfeather would see. Can they hear me sending their father away? Oh, little ones, what choice do I have? If I lose my place in ThunderClan, we will have nothing!

  Crowfeather jumped over the stream. He gazed back at her and opened his mouth to speak but the sound of rapid paw steps made them look up the hill. His patrol was racing toward them. Leafpool whisked around and dived back under the holly bush. She peeped out to see the patrol circling around Crowfeather. The black she-cat pressed close to him, twining her tail with his. When she spoke, Leafpool recognized her as Nightcloud, a WindClan warrior who had never been friendly toward ThunderClan.

  “Is everything okay?” Nightcloud was asking. “Who were you talking to?”

  “No one important,” Crowfeather grunted, and Leafpool felt her heart crack. “Come on, let’s finish the patrol.”

  The WindClan cats bounded away. Leafpool crawled out of her hiding place. No one important? Well, it looks as if Nightcloud is the important one now. Had Crowfeather lied about wanting to go back to the way things were? His life seemed to have moved on already, and his Clanmates didn’t look like they doubted his loyalty. Leafpool was alone with her kits—by choice or accident.

  The StarClan cats said they couldn’t tell me what to do, but Yellowfang must know something that might help. I’ll go back to her, remind her that she lived through this herself, and beg for advice. I cannot do this on my own!

  CHAPTER 6

  Brightheart stayed with Whitepaw all night, which made the den a little crowded, but Leafpool was glad of the help when the apprentice kept waking in pain from her jaw and the dull ache in her tail. She still didn’t dare give Whitepaw any poppy seeds, so Brightheart curled herself around her daughter and licked the top of her head, urging her back to sleep. By sunrise both cats were dozing, so Leafpool tiptoed out of the den to fetch them something from the fresh-kill pile in case they woke up hungry.

  Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw were just returning with
the dawn patrol, purring in amusement at something Rainwhisker had said. It looked like their quarrel had been long forgotten. Leafpool joined her sister as Brambleclaw bounded up the Highledge to report to Firestar.

  “Will you come to the Moonpool with me?” Leafpool asked. “I need to speak with StarClan and I don’t want to go alone.” Leafpool risked a glance at her cumbersome belly. “Obviously.”

  Squirrelflight nodded. “All right, I’ll come. Do you want to go now?”

  “If we can. Brightheart can take care of Whitepaw for today.”

  “Let me tell Firestar and Brambleclaw first.” Squirrelflight trotted up the rocks and vanished into the leader’s den. Leafpool felt the kits sagging inside her and thought with dread of the long trek up to the Moonpool.

  Squirrelflight reappeared. “That’s all fine. Come on, then.” She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, but as pale as a dove’s wing. “At least we shouldn’t get wet.”

  She was right, it didn’t rain, but the journey was harder than Leafpool had ever found it before. Every stone seemed to roll away from her paws, every bramble reached out to snag her fur, and the weight of her belly made her gasp for breath. Squirrelflight slowed her pace to walk beside her, boosting her up the rocks and urging her on when all Leafpool wanted to do was lie down and rest.

  At last they reached the path that led down to the Moonpool. Squirrelflight stared into the hollow in astonishment. Dusk was falling, and pricks of starlight were starting to appear on the still, silver water. “It’s beautiful!” she whispered.

  Unlike in the old forest, apprentices no longer visited the medicine cats’ special place as part of their training. This was Squirrelflight’s first sight of the Moonpool, and Leafpool felt a flush of delight at her sister’s reaction. “Isn’t it?” she agreed. “Can you feel the marks in the path?”

  Squirrelflight rubbed her paws over the dimpled stone and nodded.

  “Those are the paw prints of all the cats who have come here before us,” Leafpool explained. “We are not the first cats to know of this special place.”

  “Wow,” Squirrelflight breathed. “I feel so honored to be here.”

  “I know what you mean,” meowed Leafpool. “Follow me. I need to lie at the water’s edge.” She padded down the spiral path with her sister close behind her. The stars sparkled more brightly in the pool as they approached. Leafpool sank with a grunt of relief onto the cold stone.

  “What happens now?” Squirrelflight asked, sitting down and looking around.

  “I will share tongues with StarClan in my sleep. You should sleep too, if you can. It’s a long walk home.”

  Squirrelflight settled down, grumbling about the hardness of the ground. Gradually her breathing slowed. Leafpool nudged a little closer to soak up the warmth of her sister’s fur, then closed her eyes. She opened them to find Yellowfang standing over her. The old cat’s gray pelt was as ruffled as ever, and her breath rasped so loudly that it echoed off the walls of the hollow.

  “Back again?” Yellowfang grunted.

  Leafpool struggled to her paws. “Please help me, Yellowfang. Everything seems so dark. I can’t find a way out of this anywhere.”

  The old cat sat down with a sigh. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Leafpool. If only you had thought about the consequences of what you were doing.”

  “Well, I didn’t!” Leafpool flashed back. “I can say I’m sorry until the lake runs dry, but that won’t change a thing. Please help me decide what to do! There’s no one else I can ask!”

  To her surprise, Yellowfang didn’t reply. Instead she leaned over and prodded Squirrelflight with one paw. Squirrelflight lifted her head blearily.

  “Is it time to leave? I only just closed my eyes.” Her gaze fell on Yellowfang. “Oh! You’re from StarClan, aren’t you?”

  Yellowfang twitched her ears, which glowed with starlight. “It would seem so. Do you know who I am?”

  Squirrelflight put her head on one side. “I’d guess you are Yellowfang. I’ve heard many stories about you.” She studied the old cat’s matted, dusty pelt and her nose twitched. “I’d know you anywhere.”

  “I am flattered,” Yellowfang commented dryly.

  Squirrelflight stood up and looked from Yellowfang to Leafpool and back again. “Why am I here? Is there a way I can help Leafpool raise her kits?”

  “Yes,” mewed Yellowfang. “You can take them and raise them as your own.”

  Squirrelflight looked horrified. “What? How could I do that? I would have to lie to Firestar, to all my Clanmates, to Brambleclaw!”

  The old medicine cat blinked. “If a lie is what it takes to save these kits, so be it.”

  Squirrelflight paced in a tight circle. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see how I could do this. It’s too much.”

  “I can’t make you do anything that you don’t want to,” Yellowfang rasped. “I understand why you don’t want such a huge responsibility—not that I could appreciate it, of course, being a medicine cat.”

  Leafpool stiffened. So Yellowfang wasn’t going to tell Squirrelflight about her own terrible history?

  “But I have watched you, Squirrelflight,” Yellowfang continued, her voice barely louder than the wind against the stone. “I know you would make an excellent mother.” Her cloudy yellow gaze drifted to the Moonpool, which was being whipped into little waves by the breeze. Her ears pricked, as if she had seen something in the water. She blinked, then turned back to Squirrelflight. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  Squirrelflight stared at her, huge-eyed. “Sorry about what?”

  The old she-cat sighed. “I wish that the stars had not sent this message to me to pass on. But it is my duty. Squirrelflight, you will never have kits of your own.”

  Leafpool gulped. What?

  Her sister rocked backward on her haunches. “Are you sure? How can you possibly know that?”

  “Are you questioning StarClan?” Yellowfang hissed. Then she let her fur lie flat again. “Leafpool is offering you your only chance to be a mother. And Brambleclaw will be a great father. One day he will be the leader of ThunderClan! He needs kits to follow in his paw steps, don’t you think?”

  Leafpool held her breath. Squirrelflight stood up and walked to the edge of the Moonpool, where she gazed at the starlight rippling on the surface. Yellowfang followed her. “I know how difficult this is to hear. Come and rest. You will see things more clearly when you wake up.” She guided Squirrelflight back to the warm patch of stone where she had been lying before. Squirrelflight curled up, as silent and obedient as a kit, and let Yellowfang soothe her to sleep with long, smooth licks across her head.

  Leafpool waited until her sister was fast asleep, then stood up. “StarClan has never seen the future in the Moonpool before,” she meowed quietly. “Were you telling the truth?”

  Yellowfang kept her gaze fixed on Squirrelflight’s head. “The truth is that Squirrelflight will make a far better mother for these kits than you will, Leafpool. That is the only thing which matters now.”

  Leafpool tried to speak but a feather-soft darkness tugged at her, pulling her back into sleep. She lay down and let her eyes close as Yellowfang’s glowing shape faded away. When Leafpool woke, Squirrelflight was standing beside the Moonpool. Without looking around, she mewed, “Do you remember our dream?”

  “Yes,” Leafpool whispered. Her legs were trembling. Was Squirrelflight really going to take these kits from her? If it meant they could stay in ThunderClan and she could watch them grow, while still serving as a medicine cat, perhaps it was the only answer.

  Squirrelflight turned to face her, and her eyes were soft with sadness. “I love you, Leafpool, and I will keep my promise to help you. But I can’t lie to Brambleclaw for the rest of his life, nor to Firestar, Sandstorm and all our Clanmates. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this for you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The sky had lightened as much as it was going to by the time Leafpool and Squirrelflight reached the hollow. Leafpool felt d
izzy with fatigue, and had been leaning on her sister’s shoulder for most of the journey. She had to walk into the clearing on her own, though. She couldn’t risk any of her Clanmates seeing how weak and breathless she was. She headed straight for her den, and was relieved to find Whitepaw sleeping peacefully.

  Brightheart was sitting beside her daughter, rolling up the newly dried yarrow leaves. “She’s in less pain today,” she commented. She peered at Leafpool. “You look worn out! You needn’t have traveled back overnight. I could have seen to Whitepaw today.”

  Leafpool sank down into her nest. “I know, but we didn’t want to sleep on the mountain. Why don’t you go get something to eat now?”

  The she-cat glanced at her once more, then padded out of the den. Leafpool stretched out as flat as she could with her belly propped awkwardly beside her. No more journeys to the Moonpool, little ones. StarClan has done as much as it can for us. Perhaps Yellowfang was right, and giving you to Squirrelflight was the only way to keep us here. But if Squirrelflight doesn’t want to, then we will have to find our own path.

  She smoothed her paw over the uncomfortable swelling. She knew the kits would come in the next quarter-moon. She would have to leave the camp in time to find a safe place to give birth. After that, she had no idea what would happen. If her Clanmates refused to accept her kits, she would have to give up her place in ThunderClan forever. Other cats had left, so Leafpool knew she could survive. It would be hard to hunt for food while the kits were still nursing, but Leafpool could cope with going hungry for a while. She would eat as much as she could from the fresh-kill pile before she left, and hope that none of her Clanmates were watching too closely.

  By the following sunrise, Whitepaw was sitting up in her nest and complaining strongly about not being allowed out of the den. It was the best sign so far of her recovery. Brightheart knew better than to fuss over her daughter, and instead surveyed her from a distance, offering food and soaked moss in between the complaints.