The Raging Storm

As he paced, he saw the deathberry bush shiver. A rabbit hopped from beneath it. Alderheart blinked in surprise. It was the wounded rabbit he’d seen yesterday. It was still limping, but its eyes had brightened. The stench of its infection had lost its bitter tang. It hopped into the sunlight and, lifting its ears in alarm, looked at Alderheart. Panic lit its eyes and it turned and fled.

Alderheart stared after it. Yesterday it could barely hop. Hope flared in his chest. If the rabbit had begun to recover from its infected wound, then so could Puddleshine. Alderheart remembered with a jolt that the rabbit had nibbled deathberries. It should be dead! He padded to the bush, careful not to tread on any fallen berries. He didn’t want poison on his paws. Peering beneath the low branches, he saw that the rabbit had left a makeshift nest in the dried leaves underneath. Leaning in, he examined it. Deathberry seeds were piled in a small heap beneath the bush.

Ducking out, Alderheart’s thoughts quickened. Had the deathberries cured the rabbit? Perhaps eating the flesh and leaving the seeds had given it just enough poison to kill the infection without killing the rabbit. Could it be true?

His dream flashed in his mind once more. The fire hadn’t killed the forest; a meadow had blossomed in its path. It was a sign! Alderheart stiffened with excitement. If I feed deathberries to Puddleshine, they won’t kill him. They’ll save him!

Quickly, Alderheart searched for a dock plant. He found one sprouting at the foot of an oak. Tearing off the largest leaf, he carried it back to the deathberry bush. He plucked berries gingerly with his claws and dropped them onto the leaf. Then he rolled up the leaf, folding the edges in so that the deathberries were safely wrapped. Carrying the bundle gently between his jaws, he headed back to camp. How was he going to persuade Jayfeather and Leafpool that such a desperate cure would work? His heart pounded. He would have to. These deadly berries could be Puddleshine’s only hope.

CHAPTER 5

Twigbranch brushed past an oak trunk, enjoying the tug of the rough bark against her fur. It soothed her.

“Stop dawdling!” Ahead of her, Finleap padded cheerfully between the trees. “We came out here to hunt, not to scratch.”

“I’m coming.” Twigbranch hurried after him.

She had taken Flypaw out at dawn to practice finding prey, but the apprentice had been so sleepy she’d hardly listened to a word Twigbranch had said. She’d yawned when she was meant to be sniffing for rabbit tracks and kept falling behind when Twigbranch was trying to hurry her to the next mouse nest. When Twigbranch had scolded her, Flypaw had moved even more slowly, as though Twigbranch’s criticism had injured her rather than helped her.

Eventually she’d sent Flypaw back to camp to clean out the elders’ den. Early morning training seemed wasted on her apprentice. Instead she’d asked Finleap if he wanted to hunt. They were heading into the forest now. Gentle sunlight dappled the trees. Finleap padded beside her as they climbed the rise where beech grew between the oaks. Twigbranch glanced at him. “Did you find it hard to get up early to train when you were an apprentice?” she asked.

“No.” He blinked at her. “I couldn’t wait to get started.”

“Me neither.” Twigbranch flicked her tail happily as she remembered. “Some mornings I was already waiting outside Ivypool’s den when she woke up. I wanted to be a warrior more than anything else.”

Finleap slowed. “Are you still having trouble with Flypaw?”

“Her heart’s just not in it,” Twigbranch worried. “Or perhaps it is. Perhaps I expect too much from her.”

“She’s just begun training,” Finleap pointed out. “Give her time to find her paws.”

“I’m trying to give her time, but we just don’t seem to connect.” Anxiety pricked in Twigbranch’s belly. “When I correct her or criticize her technique, she takes it personally, like I’m criticizing her.” Her pelt twitched with frustration. “I feel like I can’t tell her anything in case I upset her. I have to tiptoe around her like I’m stalking prey. Sometimes I wonder if I’m training her to be a warrior or she’s training me to be a mouse.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he meowed. “Relationships take time to build.”

“Do you get along with Snappaw?”

Finleap purred. “He’s fun. He can be slow, but he listens and he works hard. He’s going to make a good warrior.”

Twigbranch fought back a twinge of jealousy. How had Finleap gotten the easy apprentice? Perhaps I’m just a bad mentor. Should she try harder to adapt to her apprentice, or simply be tougher and expect more of her?

Finleap whisked his tail. “I smell squirrel.”