Night Whispers

“Sandstorm, what’s wrong?” Leafpool bent to sniff Sandstorm’s breath and looked up at Jayfeather. “We need tansy. I’ll go and find some.”

“It’s getting late.” Firestar rested his tail on Leafpool’s spine. “Why not wait till morning?”

“And where are you going to find tansy?” Brightheart shook her head in despair. “We’ve been scouring the forest for days.”

“There’s some in your herb patch beside the Twoleg nest,” Lionblaze offered.

Jayfeather stiffened.

Leafpool shook off Firestar’s tail. “I’ll fetch it!”

“It’s too delicate,” Jayfeather snapped. “If we pick it now, it may kill off the roots, and we’ll lose the whole plant.”

Leafpool snapped her head around to stare at him. “And if we don’t, Sandstorm might get worse!”

“She’s strong,” Jayfeather countered. “She may not need tansy. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?” Leafpool challenged. “The tansy or Sandstorm’s life?”

Firestar stepped forward. “It hasn’t come to that yet.”

Jayfeather kept his blind gaze fixed on Leafpool. “I’ll decide when to use the tansy,” he growled. “I’m the medicine cat.”

Lionblaze tensed in the chilly silence. Snow creaked beneath his paws.

“Very well,” Leafpool meowed at last. “I’ll find some in the forest.” She turned and stalked away.

“Wait till the morning!” Firestar called.

Leafpool hesitated, then stalked to the warriors’ den and disappeared inside.

“Was there any sign of intruders on the border?”

“What?” Lionblaze looked up and saw Firestar staring at him. He’d forgotten to report the skirmish. “We met a WindClan patrol.”

Firestar’s eyes narrowed. “Did they cross the border?”

Lionblaze felt a rush of confusion. Yes, but only because he’d taunted his half brother. How would he explain that? “There was a small argument about a piece of prey that crossed the border,” he meowed at last. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Who won the prey?” Firestar asked.

“I did.”

Sandstorm started coughing again. Firestar wrapped his tail around his mate. “These disputes are bound to happen,” he meowed before turning his attention to Sandstorm.

If only it were that simple! Lionblaze closed his eyes. Today’s fight hadn’t been about prey, or hunger, or hunting rights. The tangling of relationships between the two Clans had caused the skirmish. It had poisoned feelings, not just between Clans but between Clanmates, weakening the Clan from within as cat turned against cat.

Perhaps Yellowfang was right. Perhaps each Clan should stand alone. When faced with such a treacherous enemy, they couldn’t risk letting anything distract them from the final battle.

Chapter 19

The roof of the elders’ den creaked under the weight of snow. Jayfeather winced. “I hope it holds,” he muttered.

“The old den would have been flattened.” Beside him, Purdy’s fur brushed against bark. “But now, with the honeysuckle woven around the beech branches, this den is strong enough to hold off a hollowful of snow.”

Mousefur turned in her nest. “It’s the thaw I’m not looking forward to. At least the snow is dry now. When it starts dripping through the roof—”

Purdy cut her off. “When the thaw comes, you’ll get wet. Like you do every leaf-bare.” His tail swished. “Cats that live wild get wet. Not even your StarClan can change that.”

Jayfeather touched his muzzle to Mousefur’s. “Hold still,” he ordered as she pulled away. He smelled her breath. It wasn’t sour, and her nose was cool. He listened to her chest, unsure whether the wheezing was infection or just age. Yet it was sunhigh, and the old she-cat was still in her nest. “Are you sure you don’t have a sore throat?” he asked again.

“I’m sure,” Mousefur grunted.

“Any aching in your joints?”

“Only the usual.”

Jayfeather frowned. Why had she refused to play moss-ball with Molekit this morning? He turned to Purdy. “Let me know if she starts coughing.”

“I’ll fetch you myself,” the old loner promised.

Jayfeather nosed his way through the honeysuckle tendrils, shivering as his paws touched snow in the clearing. The big catch Lionblaze’s patrol had made had fed the Clan for days, but now the fresh-kill pile was pitifully empty, and Sandstorm’s whitecough was beginning to spread. First, Jayfeather had confined Bumblestripe to his nest after coughing and fever gripped the young warrior during the night. Then Poppyfrost had sent Blossomfall to the medicine den.

“She says Cherrykit’s got a fever,” Blossomfall had told him.

“Tell her I’ll come as soon as I’ve checked on Mousefur.”

As Thornclaw led his patrol out of camp, Jayfeather headed for the nursery, praying that Poppyfrost was just being overanxious. Rasping breath caught his ear. He paused. “Is that you, Mousewhisker?”

“Yes,” the warrior croaked from the edge of the clearing.