Path Of A Warrior

“You have to take care of yourself before you can help any other cat,” Tigerstar said firmly, but Shadowkit’s tail slashed restlessly from side to side, his paws twitching with frustration.

“I’ll give him something to calm him,” Puddleshine suggested quietly, and hurried off to his herb stores, returning with a few tiny green leaves and setting them down in front of the kit. “This is thyme, Shadowkit. It’ll help you relax.”

As Shadowkit licked up the thyme, Tawnypelt asked quietly, “Puddleshine, what do you think this is? This fit he had. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

The brown-and-white tom shook his head helplessly. “No,” he answered. “Have you? Ever?”

Tawnypelt sighed. Puddleshine’s a good medicine cat, but he’s so young. Suddenly she missed Littlecloud, the elderly medicine cat who had preceded Puddleshine, with a sharp pang. Maybe if Littlecloud were still alive, he might know of something that could help Shadowkit.

Or if Flametail were alive … She shut her eyes for a moment, pain washing over her. Tigerstar’s and Dawnpelt’s littermate, Flametail, had been a fine medicine cat, but he’d drowned, a horrible death, before Puddleshine had even been born. Littlecloud had never taken another apprentice before he died; Puddleshine had had to learn on his own, with help from other Clans’ medicine cats.

“No,” she mewed sadly. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Puddleshine gulped, looking between Dovewing, Tigerstar, and Tawnypelt, then led them to the far end of the den. “I know that you believe Shadowkit is meant to be a medicine cat,” he began, quietly enough that the kit wouldn’t be able to hear him. “But the way he was thrashing around in pain … even for a medicine cat, it’s not normal.”

Fear prickled along Tawnypelt’s spine. “You think there’s something wrong with Shadowkit.”

Tigerstar looked alarmed. “Is he sick?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Puddleshine said, his tail drooping. “That’s what worries me. I can’t treat him if I don’t understand what’s wrong.” He looked so anxious that, amid her own worry over Shadowkit, Tawnypelt felt a flash of pity for him: No one liked to watch another cat, especially a kit, suffer. But it must be worse for a medicine cat, who was supposed to be able to help.

“If you don’t know what’s wrong, you’d better get another medicine cat here,” Dovewing meowed sharply.

“I—” Puddleshine began, but Dovewing went on.

“Some of the others are older and have seen more than you have. Why don’t you ask Leafpool to examine him?”

Tawnypelt felt the fur bristle along her spine. “We don’t need a ThunderClan cat sticking her nose in our business,” she spat before she could stop herself. Dovewing will always think ThunderClan is better than ShadowClan.

“If my kit is in danger, I’m going to go to any cat who can help him, no matter what Clan they’re from,” Dovewing growled back.

Tigerstar pressed his shoulder reassuringly against Dovewing’s. “I think it’s a good idea,” he mewed. “Puddleshine, take two warriors and have them escort you to ThunderClan’s camp. I’m sure Leafpool will be happy to help.”

Puddleshine glanced over at Shadowkit, who seemed to be dozing again, then nodded. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

As the medicine cat hurried from the den, Tawnypelt looked at Dovewing. The other she-cat stared back, her green eyes fierce. “I want to help Shadowkit, too,” Tawnypelt mewed apologetically. “But I worry about showing weakness to other Clans. Not now, while ShadowClan is trying to heal.”

Dovewing dipped her head in understanding. “I know. But Shadowkit is special. If there’s even a chance Leafpool can help him …”

Tigerstar’s gaze held his mother’s. “Without Shadowkit, we never would have made it back home. I’m sure he’s important for ShadowClan’s future. We need him. Even if we have to get the help of another medicine cat.”

Dovewing’s ears twitched, and she leaned her head against Tigerstar’s shoulder. “Spiresight said that Shadowkit would see into the shadows. I just hope his gift isn’t too much for him to handle. He’s so young.”

Tawnypelt had heard them talk about Spiresight before—the cat who’d dreamed strange dreams and seen visions, who had helped them on their way back to the lake and sacrificed himself to save their kits—but she had never met him. How can I judge if what he said is true? She shook her head to clear it. Maybe Shadowkit saw true visions, but maybe he was just a sick kit. Tawnypelt simply wanted him to be okay.

“I remembered!” Shadowkit called across the den, his voice hoarse with sleep but his small face alert.

His parents hurried over, Tawnypelt just behind them.

“You woke up so quickly,” Dovewing purred, nuzzling him. “I’m surprised the thyme didn’t help you sleep longer.”

“I know what I saw,” Shadowkit announced, looking up at them solemnly.