The Raging Storm

Cloverfoot glowered at the white tom. “Can’t you get it out yourself?”

“It’s in deep.” Stonewing shuddered.

Alderheart padded forward. He sniffed the wound. The thorn was firmly embedded in Stonewing’s pad. “It will need herbs to stop it getting infected.” He touched the hard root of the thorn with his tongue, tasting the blood that welled around it. “I can pull it out,” he told Stonewing, “but it will hurt.”

Stonewing’s whiskers trembled.

“Once it’s out, it will feel a lot better.” Alderheart caught Cloverfoot’s eye. She looked suspicious. “I think I can get it out, if you’ll let me try?”

Cloverfoot hesitated.

“I don’t want to go lame,” Stonewing told her. “Anyway, it’s my paw. I say let him try.”

Cloverfoot shrugged. “Okay,” she agreed. “I just hope you don’t end up like Puddleshine.”

Alderheart ignored her and felt gingerly for the thorn with his teeth. He gripped it and tugged, gently at first and then, when he felt it give, more sharply. It slid out of Stonewing’s pad with a rush of blood.

Alderheart dropped the thorn on the ground. “Give your paw a good wash while I find some marigold,” he told the white tom.

Stonewing was already lapping fiercely at his pad, his pelt smoothing as pain gave way to relief.

Alderheart lapped up a few crumbling leaves of marigold and chewed them; then he padded back to Stonewing and licked the poultice into the wound. “Leave the marigold there for a day; then keep the wound clean.”

Stonewing nodded, gratitude brimming in his dark blue gaze.

Cloverfoot shifted at the edge of the den. “I guess you might as well handle Puddleshine’s duties while you’re here,” she grunted as Stonewing limped out.

Alderheart didn’t respond, moving instead to check on Puddleshine. The other medicine cat still hadn’t stirred. Alderheart washed the damp fur around his neck. Please get better. Surely the deathberries had to work soon. He mustn’t lose Puddleshine. Even without Tigerstar’s threat, such a loss was too dreadful to think about. He’d told Cloverfoot the truth: The ShadowClan medicine cat was his friend. But how long could Puddleshine last with this fever?

“Cloverfoot?” Scorchfur’s mew sounded at the entrance. “Berryheart’s outside with Hollowkit. She says Hollowkit has a cough. Shall I let them in?”

Cloverfoot blinked at Alderheart. “Is it safe in here for a kit?”

Alderheart bristled. “Do you think I’d harm a kit?”

Cloverfoot nodded toward Puddleshine. “I mean, he’s not contagious, is he?”

“Of course not.” Alderheart sniffed. “They can come in.”

Cloverfoot shifted to one side as Berryheart nudged Hollowkit into the den.

The black-and-white queen blinked hopefully at Alderheart as Hollowkit coughed beside her. “He’s been sick for a few days,” she meowed.

The black kit’s cough sounded dry. “Is your throat sore?” Alderheart asked him gently.

“Only when I swallow.” Hollowkit shifted closer to his mother and glanced at Puddleshine. “Is he going to die? Yarrowleaf says you tried to poison him.”

Alderheart blinked at the kit. “A medicine cat would never harm any cat.” He turned and grabbed a tansy stem between his teeth and dropped it at Berryheart’s paws. “This should ease it,” he told her. “Get him to chew a mouthful before he goes to sleep and another when he wakes.” He sniffed the kit’s head. There was no heat there. “Has he had any fever?”

“No.” Berryheart pulled the tansy closer. “Just the cough.”

“Good.” Alderheart looked into Hollowkit’s eyes. They were clear. “It’s just a cough left over from leaf-bare. It’ll be gone in a day or two. Keep him away from the other kits, but if they haven’t caught it by now, they’ll probably be fine.”

“Spirekit and Sunkit are already sleeping with Yarrowleaf’s kits,” Berryheart told him.

Alderheart blinked approvingly.

Berryheart dipped her head. “Thanks for the tansy.” She picked up the stem and led Hollowkit from the den. As she passed Cloverfoot, Alderheart saw the two cats exchange glances. Then Cloverfoot’s gaze flicked back to him. For the first time he saw respect there.

He nodded at her and returned to his herb pile.

“Alderheart!”

An alarmed yowl jerked him from sleep. He opened his eyes into darkness. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. The sour smell of Puddleshine told him that he was in the ShadowClan medicine den. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep! He glanced quickly at Puddleshine, relieved to see that the tom was still breathing, albeit shallowly. He’d planned to watch him through the night.

Cloverfoot had dropped off ages ago. She lurched awake now, blinking. “What is it?”

As she scrambled to her paws, Yarrowleaf burst through the entrance. “Bring Alderheart!” The ginger she-cat’s eyes were wide with concern.

Scorchfur stumbled after her, blinking sleep from his eyes. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Shadowkit . . .” She stared desperately at Alderheart.

“I’m coming.” He raced past her into the clearing. Shadows striped the camp.

Tigerstar was outside the nursery, his pelt bristling with fear. “He’s in here.”