Shattered Sky

It was Needletail who replied, the fur on her neck and shoulders rising. “Don’t you know this is Kin territory now?”

“Yes, of course we do.” Mothwing still kept her even, polite tone. “But medicine cats are supposed to be able to cross Clan boundaries, even after a battle. I gathered those herbs, and we need them for all the extra cats who are living in ThunderClan now.”

Raven let out a contemptuous snort. “Yeah, well, we’re not Clan cats; we are Kin. And the Kin follow no rules but their own,” she hissed. “This territory and everything in it are ours now—right, Needletail?”

“Right,” Needletail mewed firmly. “We are not Clan cats. Go home now, if you know what’s good for you.”

As they spoke, Alderheart kept looking at Violetpaw, who had stayed quiet the whole time. She looked upset and unsure of herself, gazing straight ahead as if she didn’t want to be near the others as they argued.

I should feel angry with her, for how she attacked Twigpaw in the battle, but she’s so young… How can she stand up to all these older cats, telling her what she should do?

Glancing back at Needletail, Alderheart met her gaze, and for a moment the two cats stared at each other. Alderheart could see that behind the strength and anger, Needletail was carrying some hurt deep within her. He remembered that the RiverClan cats had told him that Rain hadn’t been seen in the battle.

I wonder if something bad happened to him. Needletail liked him so much…

As he kept gazing at her, something in Needletail’s expression shifted. “Okay,” she began. “You can come and get the herbs—”

“What?” Raven interrupted, her ears flattened with fury. “Are you completely mouse-brained? They—”

“No, wait. Listen,” Needletail meowed. “They can come in, if they tell Puddleshine what the herbs are used for.”

Raven looked thoughtful, as if she was considering Needletail’s suggestion, but Alderheart couldn’t understand what his former friend was meowing about.

Puddleshine must know most of the herbs by now, since Yellowfang started teaching him in his dreams. Doesn’t Needletail realize that? Her intense expression wasn’t giving him any clues. What is she up to?

Finally Raven gave an ungracious shrug. “I suppose you might have a point. Okay,” she added to the two medicine cats. “You can come into the camp, but if you put one whisker out of line you will be leaving it with a serious limp—that’s if you leave it at all.”

Alderheart and Mothwing climbed the bank, flanked by Raven and Needletail, with Violetpaw trailing behind. As they crossed the shallow ridge and padded down into the camp, Alderheart’s pelt prickled with horror at what he saw. The lush growth of ferns that bordered the clearing and sheltered the dens had been torn apart, and debris was scattered everywhere. The cats themselves looked dirty and hungry, with wild looks in their eyes, as if they expected to be attacked in the next heartbeat. Alderheart scanned the cats for Dawnpelt, but did not see her.

He tried to look around for the cream-furred she-cat, or to figure out where the prisoners were being held, but Raven hustled him and Mothwing along far too quickly for him to spot any sign of them.

As they hurried across the camp, Violetpaw bounded forward to catch up with Alderheart and trot along by his side.

“How is Twigpaw?” Her mew was soft, as though she didn’t want Raven to overhear. “Is her injury healing okay?”

For a moment, Alderheart didn’t know how to answer. He could see from the pain in Violetpaw’s eyes that she felt terrible about her attack on her sister during the battle. He felt even more pity for her, clearly lost and trapped among these vicious cats.

“Yes,” he replied at last, his throat tightening as he spoke the lie. “Twigpaw is recovering just fine.”

He hated lying to her, and he wished he could have told her how he had seen in a vision a cat who might be her kin. But there was no time for that, or for the truth about where Twigpaw had gone.

“Thank you,” Violetpaw mewed, ducking her head briefly, then wandering off across the camp.

Raven led the way through a line of bushes that enclosed the clearing and down to the other stream that bordered the camp on the opposite side. Here the current had scoured out a hollow underneath the bank, a good-sized cave with a roof supported by tree roots. On a stretch of pebbles at the cave opening, Puddleshine was sitting and sorting herbs into different piles.

“This is your den?” Alderheart asked Mothwing. “It’s cool!”

The golden tabby she-cat looked sad. “It was my den,” she murmured.