The Raging Storm

Alderheart met Jayfeather’s gaze unflinchingly. “I have to try it. If I don’t, he will die.”

Twigbranch looked at the nest where Puddleshine lay. Could he hear this? Did he know he was dying? The ShadowClan medicine cat shifted. She saw his gaze focus for a moment, and he groaned as he tried to lift his head.

“Let him try it,” Puddleshine grunted.

Jayfeather turned his head toward the sick tom. “It will kill you.”

“I’m already dying.” Pain showed in Puddleshine’s gaze. “If Alderheart is wrong about the rabbit, then at least I’ll die quickly. If he’s right, then I have a chance.” He fell limp with a groan.

Alderheart stared urgently at Jayfeather. “It’s the only choice we have.”

Jayfeather curled his lip. “It’s your choice, then. Do it if you must.” With a growl he stalked past Twigbranch and pushed his way through the trailing brambles out of the den.

Leafpool glanced anxiously at Alderheart. “Do what you think is best,” she mewed. “But be careful. If this harms Puddleshine, you’ll never forgive yourself.” Frowning anxiously, she followed Jayfeather out.

Twigbranch stared at Alderheart. “Are you really going to do it?”

“Of course I am.” He crouched and began carefully tearing open the flesh of a berry.

“What if he dies?” Twigbranch breathed, her heart pounding in her throat.

“Then I’ll know at least I tried everything.” Squinting in the gloom of the den, he picked out the seeds and dropped them onto the dock leaf. “I’ll feel worse if he dies without me having tried.” He didn’t look up but, intent on his work, slit open another berry.

Twigbranch slid out through the brambles and paused at the edge of the clearing. Jayfeather was disappearing into the elders’ den. Leafpool was crouched beside the fresh-kill pile, gazing anxiously ahead. Alderheart trusts his instincts.

Energy pulsed through Twigbranch’s paws. I must do the same with Flypaw. She wanted to make the young she-cat understand how important training was. These moons mustn’t be wasted. Flypaw could learn so much. She was young and quick, and the techniques she learned now would form the bedrock on which all her future skills would rest. It was no time to ease up on her. Twigbranch knew she had to be tough. What if I’m wrong? It was a risk worth taking. She knew suddenly that, like Alderheart, she must follow her instinct.

She hurried to the elders’ den and stuck her head in. Flypaw was supposed to be cleaning out the bedding, but all she saw was Jayfeather, sniffing Millie’s ear while Graystripe watched anxiously. The medicine cat pulled away. “Can you hear birdsong in the morning?” he asked.

“Yes,” Millie answered.

“Can you hear Graystripe snoring?” Jayfeather asked.

“Everyone can hear Graystripe snoring,” Millie purred.

Graystripe grunted, a sparkle in his eyes.

“In that case, your hearing is okay,” Jayfeather pronounced. “Maybe not as sharp as it once was. That might be a blessing. You say you can’t hear the kits mewling in the nursery anymore. Enjoy the peace.” He turned his head toward Twigbranch as though he could see her. “Are you going to follow me into every den today?”

Her ears grew hot. “I’m looking for Flypaw.”

“She’s not here,” Jayfeather mewed curtly. “Try someplace else.”

“Did she clean out your bedding this morning?” Twigbranch asked Graystripe.

“She took half of it away,” Graystripe plucked sadly at his nest’s thin pile of bracken with a paw. “We haven’t seen her since.”

“She’s probably collecting fresh moss,” Millie suggested.

Twigbranch’s pelt pricked irritably. “She’s probably watching thistledown floating between the trees and imagining she’s leader of SleepyClan.” She saw Graystripe and Millie exchange looks as she ducked out of the den and scanned the camp. Flypaw couldn’t even clean out bedding without getting distracted. With a grunt, Twigbranch decided that she’d better go and find her apprentice. She headed for the camp entrance.

“Twigbranch!” Finleap called to her from beside the warriors’ den, where Rosepetal and Blossomfall were sharing a mouse.

Twigbranch glanced at him. “Not now,” she called. “I’m busy.”

Finleap hurried toward her. Frustration clawed Twigbranch’s belly. She wanted to find Flypaw. They’d wasted enough training time already. Reluctantly she waited for Finleap to reach her. “What?” she snapped.

He blinked at her, hurt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hold you up, but it’s important.”

“Sorry.” Twigbranch tried to push back impatience, but it wormed beneath her pelt. “What is it?”

“Reedclaw is sick. Rosepetal just told me. She and Blossomfall met Plumwillow at the border while they were patrolling. It’s only greencough, but when she was a kit, greencough always made it hard for her to breathe. I’m worried about her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The thorn barrier shivered, and Twigbranch glanced at it, hoping that Flypaw had returned. Her heart sank as she saw Molewhisker pad into camp. “Have you seen Flypaw in the forest?” she asked him.