Eclipse

As Jaypaw headed for the medicine cat den, Leafpool padded beside him, not speaking. Was she still angry after their quarrel? He tried to read her thoughts, but his own kept interfering. He pictured the stick floating in the water. It hadn’t sunk. According to Firestar, it couldn’t sink. Jaypaw had always thought of water as a treacherous creature, sucking whatever it touched to its freezing depths. It had tried to swallow him when he was a kit. But it hadn’t sucked the stick down. It had held it. Kept it on the surface, next to the air.

RiverClan cats could swim. Jaypaw had even heard stories of Firestar and Graystripe swimming through a flood to rescue a nest of kits. And after the tunnels had flooded, they’d all managed to get to land, hadn’t they?

He remembered that night, flailing in the water with nothing to cling to. The water had dragged at his pelt until he had stopped fighting it. Then he had floated, like his stick. He remembered the sensation of his paws churning, the water pushing and pulling at him like wind. He had felt as light as thistledown.

He halted.

“What’s the matter?” Leafpool stopped beside him.

“Nothing,” Jaypaw answered. But an idea was forming in his mind.

A screech made him jump. Poppyfrost was yelping in pain beside the nursery.

“A thorn’s poked her eye!” Honeyfern yowled. “A branch was sticking out of the nursery wall!”

“I thought I’d weaved them all back in!” Graystripe came pounding across the clearing.

“Don’t panic!” Leafpool darted from Jaypaw’s side. “The thorns aren’t big. At worst it’ll be a scratch.”

Jaypaw raced to the medicine cat’s den. Poppyfrost would be fine. He had something more important to do.

He burst through the brambles and heard moss crackle as Cinderpaw stirred in her nest.

“What is it?” she called in alarm.

“You have to swim!” Jaypaw mewed excitedly.

“Swim?” Cinderpaw gasped. “But I can’t swim!”

“You could if you tried.” Jaypaw hurried to her nest. “RiverClan cats do it all the time.”

“But they’re RiverClan.”

“Don’t you see?” Jaypaw paced beside her, unable to keep still. “You can practice using your leg in water. That way you won’t have to put any weight on it, but it’ll get stronger.”

“Stronger?” Cinderpaw echoed, sounding dazed.

“It’ll be like walking on it, but easier,” Jaypaw pressed.

“Where will I swim?”

“In the lake, of course!”

“How will I get there?”

“You managed to walk back to camp, didn’t you?” Jaypaw reasoned. “And you’ve rested since then.”

“How will I know what to do?”

“I’ll teach you.” Jaypaw ignored the fear pricking in his pelt at the thought of getting his paws wet.

“You?” A purr of amusement rumbled in Cinderpaw’s throat. It was the first time she’d purred since her accident.

Jaypaw knew he could convince her now. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Leafpool will think we’re crazier than hares.”

“Let’s not tell her, then. It can be our secret. Think how surprised she’ll be when she sees you walking on four paws again.”

Cinderpaw didn’t speak, but Jaypaw could detect a small flower of hope budding in her mind.

“Okay,” she agreed at last.

“We’ll start tomorrow.” Jaypaw felt jubilant. “You’ll be better in no time.”

Cinderpaw flicked his ear with her tail. “If I don’t drown first.”

Chapter 9

Jaypaw blinked open his eyes. He could hear Leafpool stretching in her nest. It must be dawn. The medicine cat sat up and yawned.

Jaypaw waited for her to leave the den to make dirt, as she always did first thing.

The moss from his nest was tickling his nose. He sneezed, then sniffed the air. It was dry and warm and promised sun.

It would be a good day to take Cinderpaw to the lake. Padding from his nest, he tried to ignore the doubt rumbling in his belly. Even if teaching Cinderpaw to swim didn’t heal her leg, it would prove to Leafpool that he hadn’t given up on their patient.

“Jaypaw?” Cinderpaw was calling him. “Leafpool’s gone out.” She sounded nervous. “But she’ll probably be back in a moment. Perhaps we should leave this swimming idea for another time.”

“If we hurry, we can be gone by the time she gets back.” He was nervous too, but he refused to let it stop either of them.

“We have to try this.”

Cinderpaw gave a resigned sigh, and her nest rustled as she struggled to her paws. “Ow!”

“Your leg’s just stiff,” Jaypaw reassured her.

“Could I have a couple of poppy seeds, just to ease the pain?” Cinderpaw begged.

“No.” Jaypaw was firm. “They’ll make you sleepy, and you’ll need all your wits about you if you’re going to learn to swim.”

A pause. Then determination hardened Cinderpaw’s mew.

“Okay.”

Jaypaw slid beside her, pressing his shoulder to hers so that she could lean on him. She was heavy, and he struggled to help her out of the den.