The Forgotten Warrior

For a moment Jayfeather stood in silence, not sure where to begin. Get on with it! he told himself. You started this, so you’d better finish it. “It will be easier if I show you,” he mewed aloud. “Come with me.”

He set off with Cinderheart padding at his shoulder. Jayfeather pictured in his head the old ThunderClan camp, with the former cats leading their busy everyday lives. Gradually as they passed through the trees the old forest took shape around them. A stream appeared, splashing beneath arching fronds of bracken, and a jay swooped out of the branches of an oak tree. Jayfeather heard a gasp from Cinderheart as she realized that she had somehow left the territory of her dream and was on unfamiliar ground.

A patrol flashed through the undergrowth a couple of fox-lengths away; Jayfeather recognized younger versions of Firestar, Graystripe, and Sandstorm. Turning to follow, he saw them halt at the foot of a tree where a young gray she-cat was gathering celandine.

“Picking flowers again?” Sandstorm teased.

The young she-cat flicked her tail. “Flowers and leaves,” she replied, unruffled, though her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Do you have a problem with that, Sandstorm? Because if you do, you’d better take it up with Yellowfang.”

Sandstorm took a pace back, shaking her head. “Anything but that!” she yelped in mock alarm.

“Yeah, she doesn’t want to get her ears clawed,” Graystripe meowed.

“Why don’t we keep on hunting?” Firestar suggested. “Maybe we’ll catch something good and fat for Yellowfang to put her in a good mood for once. You’re doing a great job,” he added to the gray she-cat as he led the patrol away.

“Make it a squirrel!” the she-cat called after them. “That’s Yellowfang’s favorite at the moment!”

Jayfeather was aware of Cinderheart standing beside him, her pelt bristling as she stared in astonishment. “That… that’s me,” she stammered. “I mean, it’s not, but it looks just like me.”

“No, it’s not you,” Jayfeather responded. “At least, not then.”

Cinderheart shot him a baffled look, but said no more.

When she had collected enough celandine, Cinderpelt picked up the bundle in her jaws and headed off, limping heavily. Jayfeather and Cinderheart followed. The medicine cat apprentice wove her way confidently through the undergrowth until she came to the head of the ravine that led down to the camp.

“Does she know we’re following her?” Cinderheart whispered.

Jayfeather shook his head. “She can’t see us. We aren’t really here.”

Cinderpelt padded down the ravine and vanished into the gorse tunnel. Jayfeather and Cinderheart followed and soon they emerged into the old ThunderClan camp. Jayfeather’s gaze swept the clearing, taking in the dens, the fresh-kill pile, and the Highrock where the Clan leader’s den was. Not Firestar, Jayfeather reminded himself. He’s not Clan leader yet.

“This is so weird…” Cinderheart murmured.

They padded behind Cinderpelt as she carried her bundle of herbs through the ferns and into the medicine cat’s den. Yellowfang sat in the smaller clearing, looking just as scrawny and ungroomed as she did whenever Jayfeather met her in StarClan.

“That’s a good bundle,” Yellowfang praised her apprentice gruffly, trudging over to sniff the celandine. “Some of the leaves are a bit wilted, though.”

“They’ll be fine if we use those first,” Cinderpelt pointed out.

Yellowfang snorted. “All right. Put them away and then come over here.”

While Cinderpelt stowed the celandine in a cleft in the rock at the back of the den, Yellowfang padded over to a clump of ferns a couple of tail-lengths away. For the first time Jayfeather saw that a large white tom was sitting among the ferns, his fur rumpled and a look of pain in his eyes.

“Whitestorm had an argument with a bramble thicket,” Yellowfang rasped as Cinderpelt returned. “He has a thorn in his paw. What do you think we should do for him?”

“Advise him to stay away from brambles,” Cinderpelt meowed, provoking a snort of amusement from the white tom. “But for now, we need to get the thorn out, tell him to give the paw a good lick, and rub it with marigold to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Quite right.” Yellowfang gave a nod of satisfaction.

“I have a good mentor!” Cinderpelt responded, warmth in her blue eyes.

Yellowfang gave her an affectionate nudge, but all she said was, “Better get on with it, then.”

“Whoever she is, she’s a great medicine cat,” Cinderheart commented, as Cinderpelt bent her head over Whitestorm’s paw and swiftly extracted the thorn with her teeth.

“Yes, she was,” Jayfeather agreed.

“Did you know her?” Cinderheart asked curiously, her gaze still fixed on the gray cat.

“Not then. This was before ThunderClan came to the lake.”

Cinderheart turned to gaze at him, her eyes as big as moons. “So this is ThunderClan in the past? Is that why Firestar and the others look so much younger? But how… why…?”