The Raging Storm

“But we only use it in ointments,” Alderheart reminded him.

Puddleshine’s ear twitched. “Jayfeather could be right. I might have to swallow the herbs to make them work. Putting them directly on the wound isn’t helping.”

“Okay.” Jayfeather headed toward the store. “Let’s start with marigold. I’m certain that won’t make you sick.”

“Puddleshine mentioned an herb I wasn’t familiar with that could dry up the wounds. It’s called wood sorrel. He told me what it smells like. I could go out and find some,” Alderheart offered.

“Do it now while I try this.” Jayfeather reached into the crack and pulled out a bundle of dried marigold.

Alderheart blinked at Puddleshine. “Don’t worry,” he told him. “We’re going to find out what’s wrong and how to cure it.”

Puddleshine purred weakly.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Alderheart turned to the den entrance. He’d bring back wood sorrel, but he had a second plan in mind. He wanted to return to the silverthorn where Puddleshine had been injured. He might find a clue there about what had made the ShadowClan medicine cat so ill. Had something strange gotten into Puddleshine’s wound? If he could study what had infected Puddleshine, it might help him work out how to cure him.

Quickly, he crossed the clearing. Dovewing had left with her Clanmates. He could smell the ShadowClan patrol’s scent still strong at the camp entrance. Ivypool’s kits were chatting excitedly.

“We have ShadowClan kin!” Bristlekit sounded proud.

“Can we go and live in ShadowClan one day too?” Flipkit asked his mother.

“Hush!” Ivypool’s pelt bristled with alarm. She glanced around nervously. “You must never say that again. A warrior is loyal to the Clan they were born in.”

“But Dovewing wasn’t loyal,” Bristlekit mewed.

Alderheart ducked out of camp, his heart aching with pity for Ivypool. How could she defend her sister while teaching her kits that, without loyalty, the warrior code was hollow? He followed the route the ShadowClan cats had taken to the border, but peeled away from it as he reached a dip in the forest floor. He crossed it and headed deeper into the oak forest, following a long swath of nettles that flourished where the canopy opened in a slit overhead. This trail would take him straight to the silverthorn. He could investigate it thoroughly, and find the wood sorrel on his way back to camp.

Sunshine glittered through the leaves overhead. Fresh scents filled the air. Alderheart wondered if Leafpool had gathered many herbs. It would be good to have fresh leaves to work with again. He crossed the clearing the apprentices trained on. The sticks that had littered it had been cleared neatly to one side. As he pushed through the bracken on the far side, he tasted ShadowClan scents drifting from the border. The markers were fresh. He leaped the twining roots of an oak and ran up the short slope that led to the scent line. The silverthorn glinted in the shafts of sunlight piercing the canopy. Alderheart pulled up a few tail-lengths away and sniffed the air. There were no strange scents here, nothing that would explain Puddleshine’s infection. He could smell rabbit. One must have a burrow nearby. Sniffing the earth, he padded closer to the silverthorn, his gaze flicking ahead of him, scanning for clues. A deathberry bush sprouted beneath a rowan a few trees away. The berries that had survived leaf-bare clustered on the tips of the branches. Alderheart frowned. Could the juice of a deathberry be the cause of Puddleshine’s infection? He scanned the earth where the medicine cat had been trapped. There was no sign of berries there. He reached gingerly through the silver vine and rubbed the ground with his paw, then sniffed it. He could smell nothing but forest scents and a faint trace of Puddleshine’s blood.

Paw steps thrummed behind him. Undergrowth swished. He turned as the scents of Sparkpelt, Berrynose, and Ambermoon washed over him. The three ThunderClan warriors slewed to a halt on the path ahead. They’d left camp this morning to hunt. Berrynose was carrying two dead shrews by the tail while Ambermoon held a squirrel between her jaws.

“Hey, Alderheart!” Sparkpelt greeted him with a purr. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for clues about what’s making Puddleshine so sick,” Alderheart told her.

Ambermoon dropped the squirrel. “Is he worse?”

“Yes.” Alderheart glanced toward the silverthorn. “I wondered if he picked up an infection here that is making it hard for his wounds to heal.”

Sparkpelt flicked her tail angrily at the silverthorn. “Who knows what Twolegs use to make that stuff? I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s poisonous.”

Berrynose laid the shrews on the ground. “We wondered whether to try to use sticks to cover it up. But I think it’s better to leave it in plain sight so cats can see to avoid it.”

“It’s too big for us to move.” Ambermoon blinked at the silverthorn. “Besides, where would we move it to? It’ll be dangerous wherever we leave it.”