The Forgotten Warrior

She bounded through the undergrowth, skirting bramble thickets and clumps of nettles. At first she kept looking back, uncertain whether the medicine cat would be able to keep up with her, but every time she turned her head he was hard on her paws.

“Sorreltail, we’re coming!” he yowled as they drew closer to the lake; Dovewing guessed that by now he must be able to hear the tortoiseshell she-cat for himself.

At last they broke out of the undergrowth into a clearing not far from where Dovewing had walked with Bumblestripe. Sorreltail lay stretched out on her side underneath an arching clump of ferns. She raised her head as Dovewing and Jayfeather raced across to her. “Oh, thank StarClan!” she gasped. “I was afraid no cat would hear me.”

Jayfeather crouched down beside her, studying her intently. “Lie still,” he murmured. “These kits will be born soon.”

“It hurts so much!” Sorreltail moaned. “It was never this bad with my first litter.”

Still concentrating, Jayfeather ran one paw down Sorreltail’s belly and felt her hips. “There’s the problem,” he told her. “It’s the stiffness I warned you about.”

“But I did my exercises—oh!” Sorreltail’s words ended in a gasp of pain as a powerful ripple passed down her belly.

“Should she have poppy seed?” Dovewing suggested.

“No!” Jayfeather snapped. “She’s already tired, and she needs all her energy to give birth. Go and fetch me some chervil root,” he added after a moment’s thought. “That should help things along.”

Dovewing turned and dashed back through the forest. I have no idea what chervil root looks like, she thought. I hope Briarlight knows. She hadn’t traveled many fox-lengths before she met Brackenfur and Ferncloud hurrying to meet her.

“Is Sorreltail okay?” Brackenfur demanded.

“She will be,” Dovewing responded, pausing briefly. “Jayfeather’s with her.”

Brackenfur nodded and raced on with Ferncloud at his side. Feeling reassured that Sorreltail’s mate and the most experienced queen in the Clan were heading to help, Dove-wing bounded on toward the stone hollow. As she panted up to the thorn barrier, Brambleclaw emerged, closely followed by Dustpelt and Thornclaw. Dovewing halted until they had all cleared the thorn tunnel.

“This way?” Brambleclaw checked, angling his ears in the direction from which Dovewing had come.

Dovewing nodded.

“We’re going to guard Sorreltail,” the Clan deputy explained. “A cat crying out, and the scent of blood, could attract foxes.”

He led his patrol away, the three cats slipping easily through the trees, their jaws parted as they followed the scent trail.

Dovewing brushed through the thorns to find Cloudtail still on watch; with a nod to the white warrior she bounded across the camp and into the medicine cat’s den.

Briarlight was at the back of the den, her head inside the storage cleft. She pushed herself back and looked over her shoulder as Dovewing came in. “How’s—” she began.

“Jayfeather sent me for chervil root,” Dovewing interrupted. “Do you know what it looks like?”

“There.” Briarlight pointed with one forepaw, and Dove-wing realized that she had set out several different herbs in a neat line across the floor of the den. “Right at the end. You’d better take some fennel, too,” she added, pointing to an herb with thin, spiky leaves. “It should help the pain in Sorreltail’s hips.”

“Thanks.” Dovewing grabbed up the knobby brown root and the herb in her jaws and raced out again.

When she returned to the clearing, she found Sorreltail still lying underneath the ferns. Brackenfur was close beside her, bending over her and licking her ears. Brambleclaw, Thornclaw, and Dustpelt had spread out around the clearing, facing into the forest, their jaws parted and their ears pricked for the first sign of danger.

As Dovewing crossed the clearing, Ferncloud appeared from the direction of the lake with a bundle of dripping moss in her jaws. She set it down beside Sorreltail so that the tortoiseshell queen could drink.

“Thanks, Ferncloud,” Sorreltail murmured as she lapped at it; Dovewing could tell how exhausted she was. “That’s so good.”

Jayfeather was sitting beside her, listening closely, unmoving except for the tip of his tail, which twitched back and forth. He glanced up as Dovewing dropped the chervil root and fennel beside him. “I thought you’d gone to the mountains for that,” he commented.

“Briarlight sent the fennel,” Dovewing explained, her chest heaving as she gasped in air.

Jayfeather gave a satisfied nod. “Good thinking.” He fixed Dovewing with a blank stare. “Well, chew up the chervil root for her. You don’t think she’s going to do it herself, do you?”

How do I know? Dovewing thought resentfully, setting her teeth into the hard root. I’m not a medicine cat.

“Break the fennel stalks,” Jayfeather added brusquely to Ferncloud. “Squeeze the juice into her mouth.”