Dawn

“I’ll give him more poppy seeds,” Cinderpelt meowed.

“Do you have any marigold left?”

“Plenty.” Mothwing hurried to a gap in the reed wall and drew out a pawful of crushed petals. Taking some dried berries from one of the bundles, Cinderpelt began to knead the petals into them. The berries still had enough softness in them to make a pulp. Cinderpelt sprinkled in more poppy seeds than Leafpaw had seen her use before, then she pushed the mashed herbs to Mudfur.

“This will soothe your pain,” she whispered. “Eat as much as you can.”

The old medicine cat began to lap at it, his eyes growing soft with gratitude as he recognized what was in the mixture.

For a wild moment, Leafpaw wondered if Cinderpelt had given him enough poppy seeds to make him sleep all the way to StarClan, but she knew from the gentleness in her mentor’s eyes that she was only trying to ease Mudfur’s pain.

However silent their warrior ancestors had been lately, Cinderpelt still trusted them to come for Mudfur when they chose to.

“Leave us now,” Cinderpelt murmured to Leafpaw and Mothwing. “I’ll sit with him till he sleeps.”

“Will he die?” Mothwing asked, her voice quavering.

“Not yet,” Cinderpelt told her. “But this will ease his suffering until StarClan calls him.”

Leafpaw backed away and followed Mothwing through the tunnel to the main clearing.

“How is he?” Leopardstar demanded as soon as they emerged into the silvery pool of moonlight.

“Cinderpelt’s doing all she can,” Mothwing reported.

Leopardstar nodded, then turned and padded away.

“I’ve never been here before,” Leafpaw mewed, hoping to distract Mothwing. “It’s well-sheltered.”

The young cat shrugged. “It’s a good camp.”

“I’m not surprised Leopardstar doesn’t want to leave it,” Leafpaw went on, being careful to keep her voice nonthreatening. She was curious about Leopardstar’s sudden thinness—and by the look of the other cats moving around the edge of the clearing, the RiverClan leader was not the only cat going hungry here.

“You’re running out of fish now that the river’s so low, aren’t you?” Leafpaw guessed bravely.

Mothwing looked at her for a long moment. “Yes. We haven’t eaten well for a while.”

“Does that mean Leopardstar might consider leaving now?”

To her dismay, Mothwing shook her head. “Leopardstar says we will stay as long as there are no Twolegs in our territory. She says that if the river cannot feed us, we will have to learn to hunt new prey.”

Leafpaw felt a searing pang of frustration with the stubborn RiverClan leader—there was no new prey, she longed to screech—but she did not want to show disrespect for Mothwing’s Clan. “You’ve become a great medicine cat,” she mewed, clumsily changing the subject. “Cinderpelt wouldn’t have done anything different to help Mudfur.”

Leafpaw almost leaped out of her fur when Hawkfrost’s voice sounded beside her ear.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “The Clan will be lucky to have such a good medicine cat when Mudfur goes to hunt with StarClan.”

“I think Hawkfrost has more faith in me than I do myself,” Mothwing murmured.

“You have no reason to doubt yourself,” Hawkfrost insisted. “Our father was a great warrior. Our mother is proud and strong. They shared only one flaw: that their only loyalty was—and still is, in Sasha’s case—to themselves above all other cats.” He paused and glanced around the clearing. “We’re not like that. We understand what it means to be loyal to our Clan. We have the courage to live by the warrior code. And because of that we’ll be the most powerful cats in RiverClan one day, and our Clanmates will have to respect us then.”

Leafpaw felt as if she’d been flung headfirst into the icy river. However much Hawkfrost pledged to live by the warrior code, that sort of ambition could make him dangerous—like his father before him.

Mothwing gave a purr of amusement. “You mustn’t take anything my brother says too seriously,” she told Leafpaw.

“He’s the bravest and most loyal cat in RiverClan, but he gets carried away sometimes.”

Leafpaw blinked. She hoped with all her heart that Mothwing was right. But the arrogance that glinted in Hawkfrost’s eyes filled her heart with unease. Something told her—some instinct that made her fur crawl—that this was only the beginning.

Hawkfrost could not be trusted.

Chapter 13

Squirrelpaw dropped the mouse onto the fresh-kill pile. It did little to bulk up the meager offerings of a sparrow and a vole already brought in by the dawn patrol. Sorreltail had hunted with her, but had caught nothing.

“Take that straight to the elders,” Firestar mewed, padding over to them.

“Not Ferncloud?” Squirrelpaw queried.

“Cinderpelt says she won’t eat anything yet.” Firestar sighed. “But Cody has been sharing food with Birchkit.”

“That kittypet should go back to her Twolegs and stop eating our fresh-kill,” Sorreltail commented irritably. “She’s no good for hunting.”