“Here he comes now.” Cinderpelt twitched her ears to where Barkface was approaching with his head bowed and his tail trailing.
“How is Tallstar?” Littlecloud demanded.
Barkface heaved a sigh from the depths of his belly as he flopped down under the brambles beside the other medicine cats. “Sleeping,” he replied. “He is very weak. The journey has been too much for him, and it is clear that StarClan is waiting for him to join them.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Leafpaw meowed.
Barkface shook his head. “We may have travelled all the way from the forest, but Tallstar has a longer journey than all of us ahead of him. He has been a noble leader, but he cannot go on forever.”
“All the Clans will honour him,” Cinderpelt murmured. She bowed her head for a moment and then straightened up, giving her fur a shake. “Meanwhile there are tasks that we must do.”
“We need to look for herbs,” Mothwing meowed. “Disease could spread easily when we’re all tired and hungry.”
“True,” replied Cinderpelt. “Soon we’ll go and search, and hope that StarClan leads us to what we need. But before that.. . .” Her voice trailed off, and she scratched at the ground with her forepaw before she went on. “There may be a patrol out looking for new camps for each Clan, but we need more than that if this is to be our home. Where are the Clans going to gather at full moon? What about the Moon stone? It’s many days’ journey from here to Mothermouth.”
Leafpaw’s paws ached at the thought of retracing her steps along all the weary paths they had followed since they left Highstones. Surely it would be impossible to travel there every half moon to meet with StarClan? But where would new leaders go now to receive their names and their nine lives?
There was a long pause. None of the cats had the answer—or knew where to suggest looking.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” Littlecloud mewed at last. “Without the Moonstone, the only way we can reach StarClan is through dreams and signs, and I’ve seen nothing to reassure me that this is where we are supposed to be.”
“It must be right,” Leafpaw pleaded. She struggled to think how she could make the other medicine cats believe her, when they were so much more experienced than she was. “Stoneteller met with his Tribe’s warrior ancestors in the Cave of Pointed Stones,” she added, remembering their visit to the Tribe of Rushing Water. “So maybe there are other places like the Moonstone.”
“I believe that StarClan sent us a sign when we saw their reflections shining in the lake,” Cinderpelt mewed, and Leafpaw felt the fur on her shoulders lie down in her relief. “But we still need a place where we can share tongues with them.”
“Maybe they’ll send us a sign to tell us where we can find another Moonstone,” Barkface suggested.
“Maybe.” Littlecloud sounded dubious. “I just hope it’s soon, that’s all.”
“But does it really matter?” Mothwing asked. “I mean, there’s nothing to stop us from finding the right herbs, and. . .”
Her voice died away as the other medicine cats stared at her in astonishment. Leafpaw winced; how could Mothwing believe that the only task of a medicine cat was to heal?
Mothwing’s gaze flicked from one cat to the next, uncertainty and embarrassment in her eyes.
“Mothwing means we can carry on looking after our Clanmates while we wait for StarClan to speak to us,” Leafpaw meowed helpfully.
Mothwing turned to her in relief. “Yes—yes, that’s right.”
Cinderpelt’s ears twitched.
“I suppose we could start restocking our supplies,” meowed Littlecloud.
Barkface heaved himself to his paws. “If you don’t mind, I ought to stay with Tallstar. But I’d be grateful for some coltsfoot, if you can find it. He’s having trouble breathing.”
“There’ll be no coltsfoot leaves until newleaf,” Mothwing pointed out anxiously. “Would juniper berries do as well?”
Barkface nodded. “Quite right. Thanks, Mothwing.”
“We’ll bring you some,” Cinderpelt promised.
With a brief grunt of thanks, Barkface padded to the clump of grass where Tallstar lay, an unmoving heap of black and white fur. Leafpaw saw him exchange a word or two with Onewhisker, who was keeping vigil beside his dying leader. Then he settled down with his flank touching Tallstar’s, letting the old cat know that he would not be alone as he began his long, dark journey.
“Well done, Mothwing!” Leafpaw mewed. “I didn’t think of using juniper berries instead.”
Mothwing turned her head to give Leafpaw’s ear a quick lick. “Where shall we go first?”
Cinderpelt stood up stiffly, favouring the leg she had injured long ago on the Thunderpath. “If we go that way,” she began, gesturing with her tail, “we’ll end up in the Twoleg horseplace. I think we should head the opposite way, closer to the lake.”
“Firestar says it’s boggy there,” Leafpaw reminded her.
“There’s all sorts of good stuff growing in bogs,” meowed Mothwing. She gave Leafpaw a gentle flick around the ear with her tail. “If you were a RiverClan cat, you wouldn’t mind getting your paws wet!”
“And I wouldn’t mind catching a frog or a toad to eat,” mewed Littlecloud. When the other cats glanced at him in surprise, he added defensively, “They don’t taste that bad! There were always plenty in ShadowClan’s territory, even when the rest of the prey was scarce.”
As they drew nearer to the lake the tough moorland grass gave way to sedge and moss. The ground was spongy, and water oozed up around Leafpaw’s paws at every step.
“I hope it’s not all like this,” she muttered to herself, pausing to shake droplets of water from each paw. Looking ahead, she saw that although this stretch of marshland reached right down to the lake, trees were growing on the bank further around, and in the distance a wooded tongue of land stretched out into the water. That might be a good place for a camp, she thought.
She broke into a run to catch up the others, and found them standing beside a large clump of horsetail; further away were more clumps of the big, healthy plants. Leafpaw’s spirits rose.
“This is excellent,” Cinderpelt meowed. “It never grew as well as this in our old territory. We’ll collect some on our way back. Leafpaw, what is it used for?”
Leafpaw wasn’t sure she liked being questioned in front of the other medicine cats as if she had barely started her training, but at least she knew the answer. “Infected wounds,” she answered promptly.
“That’s right,” meowed Littlecloud. “And we’re going to need it. The cats have picked up all kinds of scratches and scrapes on the journey.”
Cinderpelt nodded. “We must remember where to find it.”
She set off again, 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.
