The Last Hope

The days of rain since the Gathering—nearly a quarter moon ago—had brought with them the first real chill of leaf-fall. The Clan had been sheltering in their dens when they weren’t patrolling, and every sniffle had been passed from nest to nest. Nothing serious, but the sound of coughing and wheezing made Jayfeather edgy.

He had turned Millie away yesterday when she’d come to visit Briarlight. “No cat is allowed in the medicine den except me.”

Millie had tensed, her tail twitching with annoyance, but she hadn’t argued. Jayfeather sensed worry pricking beneath her pelt. Millie wanted to keep Briarlight safe from infection as much as he did. Although Briarlight’s forepaws were strong enough to haul herself onto the fallen beech now, Jayfeather couldn’t predict how well she would fight sickness. The daily ritual of swallowing herbs was the best way he could think of for keeping them both safe from infection.

He pawed through the leaves he’d lined up outside the store. The stock of tansy was lower than he’d hoped. He reached instead for mallow. It should work just as well on Purdy’s cough. He grabbed a wad of leaves between his jaws and headed for the entrance. “Stay in the den,” he ordered Briarlight through clenched teeth. “And no visitors.”

“What if Millie comes?” Briarlight asked hopefully.

“I’ve told her to stay away.” As Jayfeather nosed his way through the trailing brambles, drizzle washed his face. He flattened his ears against it and headed toward the honeysuckle bush. Murmuring sounded from the dens, muffled by leaves that had been pawed into the woven walls to keep out the wind. Jayfeather ducked into the elders’ den. The warm scents of Mousefur and Purdy filled his nose. Purdy was damp and the musky odor of fresh mouse hung in the air.

Jayfeather dropped the mallow beside Purdy’s nest. “Have you been hunting?”

“Mousefur was hungry,” Purdy rasped.

“Don’t use me as an excuse!” Mousefur snapped. “He wanted to hunt,” she told Jayfeather.

“We’ve been stuck inside for days,” Purdy complained. “I needed to get out for a while.”

Mousefur shifted in her nest. “Bored of my company?”

A purr rumbled in the old tom’s throat. “I thought you could do with a break from my stories.”

“Your stories are the only interesting thing that happens around here,” she croaked.

Jayfeather picked up a few mallow leaves and dropped them beside the cantankerous elder. “Perhaps you could spend more time with Lilykit and Seedkit. They’re getting to that restless age.”

“Brightheart’s kits are due soon,” he added. “You’ll be busy enough once they’re bouncing around the clearing looking for trouble.”

“I suppose.” Mousefur sniffed. “No doubt it’ll be up to me to teach them manners. Kits nowadays don’t know how to show any respect.”

Jayfeather’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

“Don’t you believe it,” Purdy whispered. “She was teaching Lilykit and Seedkit how to reach under the wall of the warriors’ den and catch stray tails yesterday.”

“I heard that!” Mousefur snapped.

Jayfeather left the two old cats bickering and pushed through the honeysuckle into the rain. The nursery rustled on the other side of the clearing. Fur scraped thorns and Jayfeather smelled the scent of Cinderheart. She was squeezing into the bramble bush.

Jayfeather crossed the camp and poked his head inside. “Is everything okay here?”

Brightheart shifted in her nest. “Ferncloud’s under the weather,” she puffed. Her belly was so round with kits that even sitting up to talk was an effort.

“She’s got a bellyache.” Cinderheart’s mew sounded beside Ferncloud’s nest. “I thought I’d check on her. You’ve got plenty to do.”

Jayfeather hesitated, uncertain as usual whether he should let Cinderheart act as medicine cat or tell her to go back to her warrior duties. But it was a decision she needed to make for herself. “If you need herbs, let me know,” he told her. “I’ll leave them outside the medicine den for you.”

Jayfeather withdrew, turning toward the apprentices’ den, where he could hear Molepaw coughing.

“Cough again, Molepaw.” Leafpool’s mew surprised Jayfeather. She was already inside the den. Molepaw forced out a cough and Leafpool sat up. “It’s not bubbling in his chest. Perhaps some honey will soothe his throat?” Jayfeather felt her gaze flit toward him.

There are more medicine cats than sick cats! Ruffled, Jayfeather pushed past Leafpool and listened to Molepaw’s chest. She was right. It sounded clear. “I’ll wrap some honey in a leaf and leave it outside my den.” He turned and stomped from the den.

“That was quick.” Briarlight greeted him as he pushed his way through the brambles and shook the rain from his pelt.

“Cinderheart and Leafpool are helping,” Jayfeather muttered. He padded to the store, hauled out a lump of honeycomb, and folded it in a laurel leaf. Then he picked a few chervil roots for Ferncloud’s bellyache. Grasping them between his jaws, he carried them to the den entrance, thrust his head out, and dropped them on the ground.