and the other cats followed. Leafpaw was pleased when she was the first to spot a clump of water mint, one of the best cures for bellyache.
“But we’re never going to find Barkface’s juniper berries down here,” Mothwing pointed out, leaping over a tiny stream. “It’s much too wet.”
“Why don’t you and Leafpaw head away from the shore?” Cinderpelt suggested. “I can see bushes over there. Some of them might be juniper.”
“Sure.” Mothwing swerved away from the water, heading towards the ridge they had crossed on the previous night. Leafpaw followed close behind, relieved to feel drier, harder ground under her paws.
When they reached the higher ground, they pushed their way into a sheltered thicket of trees. Leafpaw quickly recognised the spiky dark leaves and purple berries of juniper bushes among the undergrowth.
“Just what we need,” she mewed happily, beginning to bite off some of the stems.
When they had collected as much juniper as they could carry, they turned back towards the lake. Emerging from the trees, Leafpaw spotted the tiny, indistinct figures of Cinderpelt and Littlecloud in the distance, following the water’s edge. From up here, she realised that what she had thought was a wooded spur of land stretching out into the lake was actually an island, separated from the shore by a narrow channel of water.
“Look!” she meowed to Mothwing. “There’s an island in the lake.”
The young medicine cat’s eyes shone. “That would make a great place for a Gathering!” she exclaimed. “It’s big enough for all the Clans, and nothing would disturb us there. Let’s go down and tell the others.” Snatching up her collection of juniper stems, she bounded off towards Cinderpelt and Little cloud.
Leafpaw picked up her own stems and followed more slowly. Mothwing hadn’t given her the chance to point out that only RiverClan cats felt confident about swimming, and none of the other Clans would be able to reach the island. It was a pity, because Mothwing was right: the island would be a perfect place for all the Clans to meet, safe from predators and Twolegs.
When she reached the others, Mothwing was excitedly telling them about the island. All four cats padded down to the edge of the lake to have a closer look. The ground was drier here, falling away into a rocky shore with a few tough thorns rooted in cracks.
“It looks safe enough,” meowed Cinderpelt, “but how would we get there? Do you fancy telling the elders that they have to swim every time they want to go to a Gathering?”
Littlecloud gave a snort of amusement, and Mothwing looked wounded.
“Maybe it’s shallow enough to wade,” Leafpaw suggested diplomatically, though she wasn’t keen on finding out.
“I could swim over there and have a look,” Mothwing offered.
Cinderpelt nodded. “If you want to.”
Mothwing didn’t need any more encouragement to launch herself down the rocks towards the water.
“Be careful!” Leafpaw called after her.
Her friend waved her tail in acknowledgment before wading out into the lake. Soon the water reached her belly fur and she had to swim, pushing through the water with strong, confident strokes. So it wasn’t possible to wade all the way to the island, Leafpaw thought. She narrowed her eyes against the sunlight reflected in the water as she tracked the small dark head bobbing through the waves.
Behind her Littlecloud meowed, “Why don’t we hunt while we’re waiting? I’m so hungry I could eat a badger!”
His words made Leafpaw conscious of her own grumbling belly, but she did not move until she had seen Mothwing reach the shore of the island; she pulled herself out of the water and waved her tail cheerfully at Leafpaw before vanishing among the bushes.
Leafpaw turned away just in time to see Littlecloud pounce on a vole and crouch down to devour it in swift bites. She couldn’t help feeling relieved that he hadn’t found a frog or a toad after all, in case he had offered her some. It would have been rude to say no, but Leafpaw didn’t think she was quite hungry enough to eat something that looked so tough and unappetizing.
A little way off, Cinderpelt was stalking something in the long grass that grew at the foot of the rocks. A heartbeat later she made her kill and beckoned to Leafpaw with her tail. “Come on. Mothwing will be fine. There’s plenty of prey over there.”
Leafpaw cast another glance back at the island, but there was no sign of the RiverClan medicine cat, and nothing Leafpaw could do to help her. Padding softly up to the nearest tumble of rocks, she heard the scuffling of a tiny creature and froze. A grass stem twitched aside to reveal another vole scrabbling among the fallen seeds underneath. Leafpaw crept forward, hardly lifting her paws from the rough ground. Once she was in range she leaped, and dispatched her prey with one swift bite to the neck.
Leafpaw couldn’t remember when she had last seen such a plump vole. The prey that remained in the forest after the Twolegs started to tear it up had been scrawny and terrified, and opportunities for hunting on the journey here had been limited.
She was just finishing the last, satisfying bite when Littlecloud called, “Mothwing’s coming back!”
Leafpaw swallowed her mouthful and dashed down to the water’s edge. Mothwing was swimming strongly towards the shore, and soon she waded out to stand on dry ground and shake the water from her pelt.
“Well?” Cinderpelt demanded. “What did you find?”
Mothwing let out a gusty sigh. “It’s perfect! Trees and bushes grow all around the edge, but in the middle there’s an open stretch of grass. There’d be room for all the Clans to gather there.”
Littlecloud shook his head. “RiverClan maybe, but you’d never get the other three Clans to join you.” His tone was worried as he added, “Some cats with more courage than sense would drown if they tried.”
“And right in the middle of the open space,” Mothwing went on enthusiastically, as if Littlecloud hadn’t spoken, “there’s this huge oak tree. As big as the oaks at Fourtrees, but it has low-growing branches, so the leaders could climb up there to address the Clans.” Her blue eyes shone. “I wish we could use it!”
“Well, we can’t,” Cinderpelt said regretfully. “Although you’re right, Mothwing; it sounds ideal. Thanks for checking it out.”
“There’s prey, too.” Mothwing swiped her tongue over her jaws.
Leafpaw wanted to ask Mothwing if she had noticed anything unusual about the island, like a strange-shaped rock or a twisted tree, anything that would suggest the presence of StarClan. Perhaps the island wasn’t meant for Gatherings, but there might be a new Moonstone there.
But once it was clear that the other medicine cats wouldn’t agree that the island could be used for Gatherings, Mothwing had turned away. She was padding up the beach with her tail drooping, tired out from her swim. Leafpaw decided she would ask her another time about the possibility of a Moonstone on the island.
The rest of the medicine cats began to make their way back to the temporary camp as well. Leafpaw followed last of all, with a regretful glance over her shoulder at the island. The Clans needed a place to gather and a new Moonstone as much as they needed
