Night Whispers

“Whitecough.” Jayfeather wrinkled his nose at the scent of fish on her breath. “Only Sandstorm so far, but possibly three more.”

As Mothwing sighed, he wondered if he should warn her that StarClan was trying to divide the Clans. After all, she had no connection with StarClan. They had no power over her. But he couldn’t forget Yellowfang’s words. Or his vision.

“How’s Briarlight?” Mothwing asked.

“She’s shaken off the infection.”

“Good.”

“Her forepaws are as strong as any warrior,” Jayfeather went on. “They’ll be stronger if she keeps on with her exercises.”

“It’s going to be a long hard path for her,” Mothwing warned.

“Once it becomes the only path she knows, it won’t seem so hard.” The lake breeze stung Jayfeather’s nose as he reached the crest of the slope. He hurried on, breaking from the trees and bounding down the snowy slope. He wanted to stay a few paw steps ahead of Mothwing. It was too easy to fall into the old bond of friendship.

He plunged down the bank, shocked as snow swallowed him up. It had piled along the shore, and he coughed as it shot up his nose. Sneezing, he struggled toward the water’s frozen edge until he was free of the drift. “I wish it would thaw,” he spluttered to Mothwing.

She lumbered through the snow and settled beside him. “It’s just getting colder,” she observed. “We’re having trouble stopping the kits from playing on the ice. I had to treat three sprained paws yesterday.”

Has she just come to gossip about kits? Jayfeather let his thoughts drift into hers.

Her mind seemed empty. He was wasting his time. “What do you want?” he snapped. “I don’t have all day.”

A purr rolled in her throat. “Blunt as ever.” She pawed at the snow, then lowered her voice. “Willowshine told me that StarClan has ordered us to stop talking to the other medicine cats.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“I want to know if they told you the same thing.”

Yellowfang’s matted outline suddenly shimmered at the edge of Jayfeather’s awareness. His pelt pricked as he sensed the old medicine cat’s presence. “I’m not telling you what StarClan shares with me,” he grunted.

“Then they have told you the same!”

Jayfeather bit back a reply as Mothwing pressed on. “They told you to stop talking to me, and you have!” Her tail scraped the snow. “If StarClan told you to jump in the lake, would you?”

Jayfeather bristled. “That’s not the same.”

“Really?” Mothwing leaned closer. “How many times has another Clan helped us save our Clanmates?”

Jayfeather shrugged.

“They’re asking us to stop doing something that medicine cats have done since the Clans were born. They’re asking us to let cats die. Have they gone mad?”

“Remember to hold your tongue.” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded in Jayfeather’s ear. “If you don’t keep quiet, all four Clans will be lost to the darkness.”

“They’re StarClan,” he muttered. “They have their reasons.”

“What reasons?” Mothwing growled. Her fishy breath billowed in his face. “You don’t know, do you?”

He pulled away. “I can’t explain it to you.”

“I know when something feels wrong,” she argued. “Our code is different from the warrior code. It reaches across boundaries. To us, every cat is simply that—a cat, with the same right to life as any other. We made a promise to heal and protect, remember?”

“Then protect your Clanmates,” Jayfeather snapped back. “But leave mine alone.”

“What if Sandstorm’s whitecough turns to greencough?” Mothwing’s muzzle was close to his again. “Could you let her die because StarClan told you to?”

“They have their reasons.” Jayfeather dug his claws into the snow.

“They’re just dead warriors!” Mothwing hissed. “Do you think that when they die, they get clever and brave? Don’t you realize that some of them may be as foolish and wrong-headed as they were when they were alive?”

Jayfeather wrinkled his nose against Yellowfang’s rancid breath. He felt her matted pelt snag his. She hadn’t changed a whisker when she’d joined StarClan. A growl rumbled in his throat. “You’ve never met a warrior from StarClan,” he spat. “You’re just guessing.”

“So are they!”

Yellowfang growled beside him. “Mothwing was born an idiot. She’ll die an idiot.”

Jayfeather turned away. “You won’t convince me.”

Mothwing let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Okay, okay!” She bounded after him, spraying him with snow. “Do you need herbs for whitecough? I’ve got tansy and catmint—not much, but enough to share if you’re desperate.”

“No, thank you.” Jayfeather forced out the words as he clambered up the bank.

Mothwing halted behind him. “If you do, come find me.”

“I won’t.” Jayfeather trudged up the slope. The snow on the shore crunched as Mothwing headed back toward the WindClan border.

The icy wind tugged at Jayfeather’s fur. “Happy now?” he growled to Yellowfang. But she had vanished.

He broke into a run, bounding up the slope and into the trees. His paws followed the trail home, and his lungs stung harder with each frosty breath, until he skidded, panting, to a halt outside the thorn barrier.