The Forgotten Warrior

“We’re running low on marigold,” Briarlight went on. “We used up a lot on Dovewing’s scratches when you got back from the mountains. Should I ask Brightheart to collect some more?”

“No, I’ll go,” Jayfeather muttered.

“Fine.” Briarlight’s voice was determinedly cheerful. “I’ll get on with sorting the herbs. Oh, one more thing…”

Jayfeather heard the young she-cat dragging herself across the floor of the den until she reached his nest and pushed something toward him. “Could you throw this out on your way past the dirtplace?” she asked. “It was stuck at the back of the herb store.”

Jayfeather stretched out his neck until his nose touched a tuft of fur with a few dried scraps of leaf dusted on it. He stiffened as he recognized the faint scent that clung to it.

“Who would have put an old bit of fur among the herbs?” Briarlight continued. “It must have been in there for ages. I don’t recognize the scent or color.”

For a moment Jayfeather didn’t reply. He breathed in his lost sister’s scent, overwhelmed by longing for the time when he and Hollyleaf and Lionblaze had played and trained together, before they knew anything about the prophecy, before they learned how Squirrelflight and Leafpool had lied to them.

I don’t know how Hollyleaf’s fur got into the store, he thought, but I should have thrown it out when I first found it there, not left it for another cat to find.

“I wonder where it came from,” Briarlight meowed. “Maybe a cat from another Clan got in here to steal herbs.” She stifled a mrrow of laughter. “Maybe the kits got in and hid it.”

“How would I know?” Jayfeather snapped, irritated at being jerked out of his memories. “You should stop letting your imagination run away with you.”

Turning so that Briarlight couldn’t see what he was doing, he tucked the scrap of fur deep inside the moss of his nest, and rose to his paws. “I’m going to fetch that marigold,” he mewed, and headed out of the den.

Before he had taken half a dozen pawsteps into the clearing, Bumblestripe’s scent washed over him as the young tom bounded up. “I was coming to see you,” Bumblestripe blurted out. “I’m really worried about Dovewing.”

“Why? What’s the matter? Her scratches have healed, haven’t they?”

“It’s not that. She keeps having bad dreams—she had another one last night. She woke up screeching, and she was muttering about giant birds and snow.”

Jayfeather struggled to suppress a stab of impatience. I know how bad it must have been, watching Swoop carried off by the eagle. But Dovewing has to be stronger than this.

“How do you know about it?” he asked Bumblestripe.

“There’s a leak in the warriors’ den right above my nest,” the young tom replied. “And there’s no more room in there, so I thought I’d spend a few nights in the apprentices’ den with Dovewing and Ivypool. And every night Dovewing has these awful dreams. Are there any herbs that can help her?”

Jayfeather picked up waves of deep anxiety rolling off Bumblestripe. “There are no herbs that can take away memories,” he meowed. “You just have to learn to live with them.” Don’t we all? he added silently.

“But—” Bumblestripe began.

Brambleclaw’s voice rang out across the clearing, cutting across his protest. “Hey, Bumblestripe! You’re supposed to be on hunting patrol. Sorreltail’s waiting.”

“Okay!” Bumblestripe called back. “Coming! Bye, Jayfeather!” He bounded away.

Jayfeather headed toward the apprentices’ den, where Dovewing and Ivypool were sleeping since the warriors’ den was so crowded, only to halt when he realized that Brambleclaw had gotten there ahead of him.

“Ivypool, Dovewing, wake up!” the ThunderClan deputy yowled, sticking his head into the den. “You’ve overslept again.”

Jayfeather heard muffled mews of protest; a couple of heartbeats later the two she-cats staggered into the open.

“You look dreadful!” Brambleclaw meowed, annoyance in his tone. “I’ve never seen such messy fur! Have you been hunting at night?”

Though Jayfeather couldn’t see them, his twitching nose picked up dusty, ruffled fur, and he could sense echoes of fear coming from both cats. He knew very well why their sleep had been disturbed. Bumblestripe had just told him about Dovewing’s troubled dreams, while each night Ivypool was visiting the Dark Forest, training with the cats who had been spurned by StarClan.

I wish she’d tell me more about what happens there, Jayfeather thought. But no—she just says that she’ll let me know when there’s anything important to report.