Firestar's Quest (4 page)

He blinked, and the vision was gone. All he could see was the river sliding past on its endless journey, with the shivering starlight trapped in its depths.

Great StarClan!
he thought.
What's happening to me?

Though Firestar didn't dream again that
night, he slept badly, and he still felt tired when he emerged from his den the next morning. He blinked in the strong sunlight to see Ashfur padding across the clearing toward Brambleclaw. “Your vigil's over,” Firestar heard him meow. “Come on; I'll find you somewhere to sleep.”

They disappeared into the warriors' den while Firestar crossed the clearing and slipped down the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt's den.

The gray-furred medicine cat was sitting outside the cleft in the rock, turning over some herbs with one paw. Brightheart sat beside her and bent her head forward to give the leaves an interested sniff.

“This is borage,” Cinderpelt explained. “You should start eating some now, so when your kits come you'll have plenty of milk.”

Brightheart licked the herbs up, making a face as she swallowed them. “They taste as bitter as mouse bile. But I don't mind,” she added hastily. “I want to do my best for my kits.”

“You'll be fine,” Cinderpelt assured her. “Come back every
morning for some more herbs, and call me right away if you think the kits are coming. I don't think it'll be long now.”

“Thanks, Cinderpelt.” Brightheart dipped her head to the medicine cat and padded across the clearing, passing Firestar at the end of the tunnel.

“Make sure you get plenty of rest,” he meowed as she made her way back into the main camp.

Cinderpelt dusted a few scraps of borage from her paws and limped into the clearing to meet Firestar. Once she had been his apprentice, but an accident beside the Thunderpath had injured her leg and made it impossible for her to be a warrior. Firestar knew how hard it had been for her to give up the future she had always dreamed of; he still blamed himself for not taking better care of her.

“Cinderpelt, I have to talk to you,” he began.

Before the medicine cat could reply, a wail sounded from behind Firestar. “Cinderpelt! Look at my paw!”

“Great StarClan, what now?” the medicine cat muttered.

Sorrelpaw, the smallest of the apprentices, lurched into the clearing on three legs, holding out her forepaw. “Look, Cinderpelt!”

The medicine cat bent her head to examine the paw. Firestar could see that a thorn was driven deep into the pad.

“Honestly, Sorrelpaw,” Cinderpelt mewed, “from the noise you were making I thought a fox must have bitten your paw off. It's only a thorn.”

“But it hurts!” the apprentice protested, her amber eyes wide.

Cinderpelt tutted. “Lie down and hold your paw out.”

Firestar watched as the medicine cat expertly gripped the shank of the thorn in her teeth and tugged it out. A gush of blood followed it.

“It's bleeding!” Sorrelpaw exclaimed.

“So it is,” Cinderpelt agreed calmly. “Give it a good lick.”

“Every cat picks up thorns now and again,” Firestar told the apprentice as her tongue rasped busily across her pad. “You'll probably pick up a good many more before you're an elder.”

“I know.” Sorrelpaw sprang to her paws again. “Thanks, Cinderpelt. It's fine now, so I'll go back to the others. We're training in the sandy hollow.” Her eyes shone and she flexed her claws. “Sandstorm's going to show me how to fight
foxes
!”

Without waiting for a response she charged off down the fern tunnel.

Cinderpelt's blue eyes gleamed. “Sandstorm's got her paws full with that one,” she commented.

“You've got your paws full yourself,” meowed Firestar. “Is it always this busy?”

“Busy is good,” Cinderpelt replied. “Just as long as there's no blood being spilled. It's great, being able to use my skills to care for my Clan.”

Her eyes shone with enthusiasm, and once again Firestar was reminded of the apprentice she had been. What a warrior she would have made! But her accident had diverted all her energy, like a clear, sparkling stream, into the path of a medicine cat.

“Okay, Firestar,” she prompted. “You're busy too, so you haven't come here just to gossip. What can I do for you?”

Twitching her ears for Firestar to follow her, she made her way to the cleft in the rock and began to put away the remaining stems of borage. Firestar sat beside her, suddenly reluctant to tell any cat about the strange visions he had seen.

“I've been having these dreams….”

Cinderpelt shot him a swift glance; usually only medicine cats received dreams from StarClan, but she had learned long ago that their warrior ancestors came to Firestar too.

“It wasn't a dream from StarClan,” Firestar went on. “At least, I don't think it was.” He described the mist-shrouded moorland where the desperate wailing of cats had surrounded him. He couldn't bring himself to tell Cinderpelt about the pale gray cat he had seen in the ravine when he was awake, or the reflection in the puddle and the cats struggling in the river. They could be explained away too easily: odd cloud formations, tricks of the light, or the pattern of starlight in the dark water.

Cinderpelt finished tidying the herbs and came to sit beside him, her eyes thoughtful. “You've had this dream twice?”

“That's right.”

“Then I think it's more than a tough bit of fresh-kill stuck in your belly.” She blinked several times and added, “That many cats could only belong to a Clan…and you're sure it wasn't WindClan?”

“Positive. The moor wasn't anywhere in WindClan territory, I'm sure of it, and I didn't recognize any of the voices.
Besides, there's been no report of trouble in WindClan.”

Cinderpelt nodded. “And none in any of the other Clans, either. Do you think you're remembering the battle with BloodClan?”

“No, Cinderpelt, what I heard wasn't battle yowling. It was cats wailing as if something was terribly wrong.” Firestar shuddered. “I wanted to help them, but I didn't know what to do.”

Cinderpelt brushed her tail across his shoulder. “I could give you some poppyseed,” she suggested. “At least that would give you a good night's sleep.”

“Thanks, but no. It's not sleep I want. It's an explanation.”

Cinderpelt didn't look surprised. “That's something I can't give you, not right now,” she meowed. “But I'll let you know if StarClan show me anything. And be sure to come and tell me if you have any more dreams.”

Firestar wasn't certain he wanted to do that. Cinderpelt had enough to keep her busy without worrying about him. “I'm probably making a fuss about nothing,” he told her. “I'm sure the dreams will go away if I stop thinking about them.”

He hadn't managed to convince himself, and as he padded away through the fern tunnel with the medicine cat's pale blue gaze following him, he was sure that he hadn't convinced Cinderpelt, either.

 

On the second night after his talk with Cinderpelt, Firestar had the dream again. He stood on the pathless moorland, straining to make out the blurred shapes that were all
around him, yet never close enough to see clearly.

“What do you want?” he called. “What can I do to help you?”

But there was no reply. Firestar was beginning to feel as if he were doomed to stumble across this mist-shrouded moor forever, calling out to cats who could not or would not hear him.

The sun had risen high above the trees when he woke the next morning. A warm wind ruffled his fur as he stepped out into the clearing. Sootpaw was hurrying across the clearing with a huge ball of fresh moss for the elders' bedding. Ferncloud and Brightheart were sunning themselves at the entrance to the nursery, watching Shrewkit and Spiderkit play-fighting.

Firestar stiffened at the sound of high-pitched caterwauling coming from outside the camp. Somewhere close by, a cat was in terrible distress. Had his dream followed him into the waking world? Or was he still asleep, trapped in the same dream?

He forced his legs to carry him over to the gorse tunnel. But before he reached the entrance to the camp, Cloudtail and Brackenfur appeared, supporting Longtail, whose jaws were stretched wide, letting out loud wails of anguish. Cloudtail's apprentice, Rainpaw, followed them into the camp, his fur bristling with shock.

Longtail's eyes were closed; blood welled from beneath the swollen lids and spattered over his pale tabby fur. “I can't see! I can't see!” he wailed.

“What happened?” Firestar demanded.

“We were out hunting,” Brackenfur explained. “Longtail caught a rabbit, and it turned on him and scratched his eyes.”

“Don't worry,” Cloudtail reassured Longtail. “We'll get you to Cinderpelt right away. She'll fix you up.”

Firestar followed them as they guided Longtail across the clearing and through the tunnel of ferns. Cloudtail called for Cinderpelt, who appeared from the cleft in the rock and limped rapidly to Longtail's side. “How did this happen?”

Brackenfur repeated what he had told Firestar, while Cinderpelt rested her tail gently on Longtail's shoulder.

The tabby warrior's wailing had died away into shallow, rasping breaths. He was shivering violently. “I can't see,” he whispered. “Cinderpelt, am I going to be blind?”

“I can't tell until I've examined your eyes,” Cinderpelt replied. Firestar knew she wouldn't try to comfort Longtail with a lie. “Come over here and sit down in the ferns where I can get a proper look at you.”

She led him to a clump of bracken just outside the opening to her den. Longtail slumped onto his side, still panting hard.

“Rainpaw, bring me some moss soaked in water,” Cinderpelt directed, “as fast as you can.” The apprentice glanced at his mentor, and when Cloudtail nodded he sped off, leaving the ferns of the tunnel waving behind him. “The rest of you can go,” the medicine cat added, “and let Longtail have a bit of peace and quiet.”

Cloudtail and Brackenfur turned to leave, but Firestar padded over to Cinderpelt, who was calming Longtail with
one paw stroking his flank.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Just go with the others and let me get on with it,” Cinderpelt replied, her tart tones reminding Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang. As Firestar turned away, she added, “Oh, you might ask Cloudtail to let me have Rainpaw for the rest of the day. An apprentice to fetch and carry would be useful.”

“Good idea,” Firestar replied. “I'll tell him.”

His heart was torn with pity for Longtail. The tabby warrior had challenged Firestar when he first arrived in the forest, and he had been far too close to Tigerstar. But when the murderous deputy's plans became clear, Longtail had realized where his true loyalties lay, and since then he had become one of Firestar's most trusted warriors.

When Firestar reached the clearing he saw Cloudtail and Brackenfur standing with Brightheart, who was anxiously questioning them. Mousefur and Graystripe had come out of the warriors' den to find out what was going on.

Firestar padded over to Cloudtail and passed on Cinderpelt's request about Rainpaw.

“Sure,” the white warrior meowed. “It's all good training for Rainpaw, anyway.”

“What's going to happen to Longtail?” Brightheart fretted. “Will he really go blind?”

“Cinderpelt doesn't know yet,” Firestar replied. “Let's hope the damage isn't as bad as it looks.”

“I was lucky,” Brightheart murmured, half to herself. “At least I've still got one eye.”

Glancing around at their troubled faces, Firestar tried to give them something else to think about. “What about the hunting patrol?” he asked Cloudtail and Brackenfur. “You'd better carry on, and I'll come with you. Whatever happens, the Clan still needs to be fed.”

“I'll lead another,” Graystripe offered. “Mousefur, are you up for it?”

The wiry brown warrior nodded, lashing her tail. “I'll fetch Dustpelt,” she meowed.

As she loped off toward the warriors' den, Firestar cast a final glance back at the fern tunnel. Everything was quiet now in Cinderpelt's clearing. “Oh, StarClan,” he whispered, “don't let Longtail lose his sight.”

 

That night Firestar was too restless to settle in his den. He was afraid the dream would return. He had come to dread the unknown moorland and the cries of distress from cats he had no power to help.

As he paced the clearing, he heard a murmuring sound coming from Cinderpelt's den, and brushed through the fern tunnel to find out what it was. Longtail lay in the ferns outside the split rock. His eyes were closed, but he looked too tense to be asleep. Sticky tears seeped from beneath his eyelids.

Cinderpelt sat beside him, stroking his forehead lightly with the tip of her tail, murmuring to him words of comfort that a mother might use to soothe an injured kit. She glanced up as Firestar appeared.

“Shouldn't you be resting?” he asked.

Her blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Firestar shrugged and went to sit beside her. “I couldn't sleep. How's Longtail?”

“I'm not sure.” Cinderpelt dabbed up a pawful of chewed-up herbs from a leaf beside her and patted them gently onto Longtail's eyes. Firestar recognized the sharp scent of marigold. “The bleeding has stopped, thank StarClan,” the medicine cat went on, “but his eyes are still very swollen.”

“Firestar.” Longtail raised his head, though he kept his eyes shut tight. “What will happen to me if I go blind? If I can't be a warrior anymore?”

“Don't worry about that,” Firestar mewed firmly. “Whatever happens, there'll always be a place for you in ThunderClan.”

Longtail let out a long sigh and lowered his head again. Firestar thought he had relaxed a little, and hoped he would be able to sleep.

“Listen, Firestar.” Cinderpelt dabbed some more of the marigold poultice onto Longtail's eyes as she spoke. “As your medicine cat, I'm telling you to get some rest.” More quietly, she added, “Your dream isn't going to go away; you know that as well as I do. You need to find out what it means, and the only way to do that is to dream it over and over until you figure it out.”