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Fireheart approached the kit. It looked up at him, opening its tiny mouth in a rasping, painful cough. Fireheart gently pushed a small green herb toward it. “If you want to be a warrior, you’ll have to get used to swallowing these horrible things,” he mewed. “When you make your trip to the Moonstone, you have to eat herbs far worse than this.”
The kit looked wonderingly at him through half-closed eyes.
“Think of it as practice,” Fireheart urged. “Practice for when you become a warrior.”
The kit reached forward and took a tentative mouthful.
Fireheart gave it an encouraging purr.
Yellowfang appeared at his side. “Well done,” she meowed. She gestured with her nose, and Fireheart understood she wanted to talk to him. He followed her to the shelter of the tall rock where she slept. The rain was still falling, and Yellowfang’s matted gray fur was soaked, her sodden tail dragging in the dirt.
“Bluestar has whitecough,” she meowed gravely.
“But whitecough isn’t that serious, right?”
Yellowfang shook her head. “It came on very quickly,” she meowed, “and it’s affected her badly.” Fireheart’s stomach tightened as he remembered the dwindling number of lives left to the Clan leader. “I warned her to stay away from the other sick cats, but she wanted to see them,” Yellowfang went on. “She’s sleeping in her den at the moment. Frostfur is with her.”
The fear in Yellowfang’s eyes made Fireheart wonder if she knew the truth about Bluestar’s lives. Fireheart had assumed he was the only cat in the camp whom Bluestar had shared her secret with. The rest of the Clan thought she had three lives left, but perhaps a medicine cat could sense these things instinctively.
The truth was, if Bluestar lost this life, she would have only one more left.
CHAPTER 16
The rain continued through the night and into the next morning. But by sunhigh, the clouds began to clear. A somber air hung over the clearing as the Clan waited for news of their leader.
Fireheart crept out from the patch of brambles by the boundary wall, where he’d sheltered since dawn. He padded over to Bluestar’s den in the side of Highrock. There was no sound from inside. As he turned away, he ran into Willowpelt carrying food to the nursery. She tipped her head questioningly to one side.
Fireheart knew she was hoping for news of Bluestar. “Nothing to report, I’m afraid.” He shrugged.
Fireheart had given Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw a day’s rest from training. He could see them now, lounging outside their den, looking bored. Fireheart knew he had let them down, but he wanted to stay in camp while Bluestar was sick. At least Tigerclaw wasn’t here to criticize his decision. The great deputy had taken out the dawn patrol.
Suddenly the lichen at Bluestar’s den twitched and Frostfur burst through. She raced across the clearing to Yellowfang’s den and reappeared within moments with the medicine cat behind her.
Fireheart bounded over to Bluestar’s den just as Frostfur and Yellowfang pushed through the hanging lichen. He stopped outside and sat down, his heart racing. Frostfur peered out.
“What’s wrong?” Fireheart asked, his voice trembling.
Frostfur closed her eyes. “She has greencough,” she told him bleakly. “Stand watch and make sure no one comes inside.” She ducked back inside.
Fireheart sat motionless as shock flooded through him. Greencough! Bluestar really was in danger of losing another life.
A sharp yowl outside the camp made him turn and look toward the gorse tunnel. Dustpaw exploded into the clearing and skidded to a halt beside Fireheart. “I’ve come from Tigerclaw,” he panted. “I have a message for Bluestar.”
“She’s sick,” Fireheart replied. “You can’t go in.”
Dustpaw flicked his tail impatiently. “Tigerclaw needs to see her at the Thunderpath. It’s very urgent.”
“What’s wrong?”
Dustpaw glared at him. “Tigerclaw asked for Bluestar,” he sneered. “Not some kittypet pretending to be a warrior!”
Fury shot through Fireheart and he unsheathed his claws. “Bluestar can’t leave the camp,” he growled. He flattened his ears and moved so that he blocked the entrance to his leader’s den.
“Fireheart is right.” Yellowfang’s rough meow sounded behind him. She had come out of Bluestar’s den.
Dustpaw looked at the medicine cat, shrinking beneath her orange gaze. “Tigerclaw has found evidence of ShadowClan warriors in our territory,” he meowed. “They’ve invaded our hunting grounds!”
In spite of his fear for Bluestar, Fireheart felt his lip curl in anger. How dared they? After what ThunderClan had done for them!
But Yellowfang wasn’t interested in Dustpaw’s report. She turned to Fireheart, her eyes filled with urgency. “Fireheart,” she meowed. “Tell me, do you know whether there is any catnip in the Twolegplace?”
“Catnip?” Fireheart echoed.
“I need it for Bluestar,” Yellowfang explained. “It’s an herb I haven’t used for moons, but I think it will help her.” The medicine cat had Fireheart’s full attention now. She continued, “It has soft leaves and an irresistible scent….”
Fireheart interrupted her. “Yes, I know where to find some!” He had never seen it in the woods, but as a kit he had rolled in a patch in his Twoleg home.
“Good,” replied Yellowfang. “I need as much as you can carry, and fast.”
“What about Tigerclaw?” demanded Dustpaw.
“Tigerclaw will have to deal with it on his own for the moment!” Yellowfang snapped.
Cinderpaw had been watching them from the tree stump. She bounded up. “Deal with what himself?” she mewed excitedly. Fireheart signaled her to be quiet with an urgent flick of his tail.
Dustpaw ignored the apprentice. “ShadowClan could be in our territory by now!” he hissed.
Cinderpaw’s eyes widened but she held her tongue.
Yellowfang paused to think. “Where’s Whitestorm?” she asked.
“Patrolling Sunningrocks with Sandpaw and Mousefur,” Dustpaw answered.
Yellowfang nodded. “With Bluestar sick and Fireheart fetching catnip, we can’t risk sending any more warriors out of the camp. If ShadowClan is in our territory, they might attack here. They’ve done it before,” she reminded him grimly.
“If I’m quick getting the catnip,” Fireheart put in, “I could meet Tigerclaw afterward and bring back his message for Bluestar.”
Dustpaw’s eyes flashed. “But he wants Bluestar to see the evidence for herself. ShadowClan has left the remains of fresh-kill on our side of the Thunderpath!”
Yellowfang silenced him with a growl. “Bluestar doesn’t need to see the evidence,” she rasped. “The word of her deputy ought to be enough.”
“Tigerclaw just needs to be told that Bluestar can’t come,” meowed Fireheart. “I’ll take the message to him after I’ve fetched the catnip. Where is he?”
“I’ll go!” Dustpaw spat. “Do you think you’re a better messenger than me because you’re a warrior and I’m just an apprentice?” He threw Fireheart a look of pure hatred.
But Yellowfang had no time for quarrels. “The Clan will need protecting while Fireheart is gone!” she hissed at Dustpaw, flattening her ears. “Isn’t that duty important enough for you? Now, where is Tigerclaw?”
“Beside the burned ash tree that overhangs the Thunderpath,” Dustpaw replied sulkily.
“Right,” Yellowfang growled. “Go now, Fireheart! Quickly!”
