Squirrelflight whispered.
They headed for the edge of the lake, with Blackstar’s voice drifting behind them on the breeze as he began to arrange the hunting patrols.
“Squirrelflight! Wait!” Brambleclaw looked back to see Leafpaw bounding after her sister. “Be careful, won’t you?” she begged.
Squirrelflight touched noses with the young medicine cat. “Don’t worry about us,” she meowed. “We can look after ourselves.”
“But you’re as tired as the rest of us from the journey,” Leafpaw warned. “Hunt as soon as you can, and don’t stray too far from the lake or you might get lost.”
Squirrelflight brushed her tail across Leafpaw’s mouth to stop her. “We’ll be fine,” she insisted. She lifted her head and pointed with her nose to the gleaming stretch of water below them. “Look, you can see exactly where we’re going. We’ll be back before you know it.” She paused for a moment, then added quietly, “Have you had a sign from StarClan? Is that why you’re so worried?”
Leafpaw shook her head. “No, nothing like that, I promise. It’s just hard to let you go again. It feels too much like the first time you left, when you went to sun-drown-place.”
Brambleclaw went over and rested his muzzle against Leafpaw’s shoulder to comfort her. “And we came safely home, didn’t we? Trust me, Leafpaw, I’ll look after her.”
Squirrelflight jerked away in mock indignation. “I don’t need looking after! It’s more likely to be me watching out for your battered old fur!”
Leafpaw gave a purr of amusement, letting them lighten the mood. “Well, just take care, all of you. And if you have a chance to look out for any herbs, that would be great. Our medicine supplies will need refilling very soon.”
Squirrelflight licked her ear. “Sure. I’ll keep my eyes open—when I’m not looking for foxes, badgers, Twolegs, Thunderpaths. . .”
“Are we going or not?” growled Crowfeather. “We don’t have much daylight, and we need to get at least halfway around the lake before nightfall.”
Leafpaw ignored him. “StarClan go with you,” she murmured to Squirrelflight, before whisking around and bounding back up the slope.
Brambleclaw tasted the air and listened to the lapping of waves on the shore. The grey water was flooded with colour as the sun rose higher over the hills. It stretched ahead so far that the trees on the distant shore were nothing more than a greenish blur, and curved hungrily around the marshy land in front of them. Something about the stillness of the water, the silence that hung over it like mist, told Brambleclaw that it was much, much deeper than the river in the forest, even when it flooded. He gave Mistyfoot a swift sidelong glance. She looked daunted too, though like all RiverClan cats she was an excellent swimmer.
As if aware that his eyes were on her, the RiverClan deputy gave herself a shake. “Right,” she meowed, gazing around at the patrol. “This is it. Let’s see where StarClan has brought us.”
Leafpaw stopped halfway up the slope and turned to watch her sister and the rest of the patrol make their way down to the lake. From the tingling of her own fur, she could tell how excited Squirrelflight was, not just at the prospect of exploring the new territory, but because she was with the friends she had made on the journey to sun-drown-place once more. For a few heartbeats Leafpaw felt almost breathless with envy, wishing that she could have a bond that strong, based on that depth of trust and that many shared experiences, with another cat.
Her gaze was drawn to the lean, grey-black shape of Crowfeather. Of all the others, he was the hardest to understand. Leafpaw wished she knew him better. He seemed the least willing to trust cats from another Clan, yet during the long journey through the mountains she had seen him put himself in danger over and over to help cats who weren’t from WindClan. Leafpaw’s pelt prickled, making her shiver from nose to tail. Something told her Crowfeather had an important path laid out by StarClan, but she had no idea where it might lead—nor was there any reason for StarClan to let her know the destiny of a cat from another Clan.
She jumped as something brushed against her shoulder, and turned to see Cinderpelt gazing at her with wise blue eyes.
“Do you wish you were going with them?” the medicine cat asked.
Leafpaw hesitated. She was a medicine cat, not a warrior—her duties lay with her weak and exhausted Clan. So why did she feel a tug in her paws to follow the little patrol that was padding away along the line of the shore? Her mind flooded with an image of bounding after them to walk alongside Crowfeather, who was bringing up the rear; she drew in her breath sharply, almost able to feel his dark grey pelt brush against hers as they picked their way over the tufts of boggy grass.
“Are you all right?” mewed Cinderpelt, looking at her closely.
Leafpaw blinked. “Yes, I’m fine. Of course I don’t want to go with the patrol. There’s enough work for me here.”
“That’s true,” Cinderpelt meowed. “We have four Clans of exhausted cats to look after, and our stock of healing herbs barely amounts to a couple of leaves and a pawful of crushed berries.”
Leafpaw gulped, suddenly wondering if she should have gone with the patrol after all to look for new supplies of medicine.
“We’re going to meet with the other medicine cats,” Cinderpelt went on. “We need to discuss what to do about finding new herbs, and how we are going to share tongues with our warrior ancestors when we are so far from Highstones.” She gazed up at the sky, where the half-moon drifted behind wisps of cloud, and her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I hope we find another Moonstone place soon.”
She gestured with her tail, and Leafpaw saw her friend Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, sitting in the shelter of a bramble thicket with Littlecloud, the medicine cat from ShadowClan. Around them, warriors and apprentices from all four Clans were dividing into groups as the hunting patrols prepared to leave.
Cinderpelt waited until most of the patrols had gone before joining the other medicine cats. Leafpaw bounded over to touch noses with Mothwing.
Mothwing blinked nervously at her. “I feel so helpless!” she murmured into Leafpaw’s ear. “I have no supplies, and the cats are so tired and weak.”
Leafpaw wasn’t surprised that her friend was anxious. Although Mothwing had trained as a warrior and received her warrior name several seasons ago, she had not been a medicine cat apprentice for as long as Leafpaw. The death of Mudfur before they left the forest meant that she had to take on all the responsibilities of a medicine cat before she had finished her training. Leafpaw felt a wave of gratitude that Cinderpelt was still alive, and young and strong enough to live for many, many more moons. She was in no hurry to lose her mentor, and she didn’t envy Mothwing at all. But she reminded herself that Mothwing had been taught well, and she would be able to ask the other medicine cats for advice if she needed to. Besides, in this new place they would all have things to learn.
She gave Mothwing’s ear a quick lick. “You’ll be fine,” she promised. “We’ll all help you.”
Cinderpelt glanced around. “Where’s Barkface?”
