The Apprentice's Quest

Her wound is worse now, and she’s weaker. How will she fight off the infection?

Cherryfall touched him on the shoulder.

“It’s getting late,” she meowed. “Should we hunt?”

Alderpaw looked up, startled. In his anxiety he hadn’t noticed that the sun had gone down and the shadows of night were gathering.

“Please,” he responded. “I’ll stay with Sandstorm and fix up some nests.”

He found a gentle hollow sheltered by elder bushes and heaped dead leaves into it before helping Sandstorm across to it. The old cat had stopped insisting that she was fine, and she leaned heavily on his shoulder as she staggered across to her nest.

Cherryfall came back with a mouse as Alderpaw was getting Sandstorm settled.

“Thanks,” Alderpaw mewed. “Sandstorm, eat this. And then you can go to sleep.”

“Bossy furball,” Sandstorm muttered, but she ate the mouse and curled up without protest.

Watching her, Alderpaw was relieved to see that the bleeding had almost stopped. At the same moment he realized how bone-weary he was. He could hardly keep awake until the other hunters returned, and he managed just a few mouthfuls of thrush before he too sank into sleep.

The patter of raindrops on the bushes above his head woke Alderpaw to the light of a chilly morning. Fortunately the bushes were so thick that very little rain penetrated to his nest.

Raising his head, Alderpaw saw that Sandstorm was still sleeping beside him. All the other cats were gone, except for Cherryfall, who crouched with her back to him at the top of the hollow, peering out through the branches.

As Alderpaw sat up, the dead leaves crackling under his paws, she turned around.

“The others have gone hunting,” she mewed.

“I stayed to keep watch. How is Sandstorm?”

Alderpaw examined the old she-cat. She was muttering in her sleep, shifting restlessly in her nest. Her wound had stopped bleeding, but it was more swollen than ever, red and hot to the touch.

Sandstorm’s green eyes blinked open as Alderpaw bent over her. “Hi,” she murmured.

“Have you come to do my ticks?”

Alderpaw realized that Sandstorm thought she was back in the ThunderClan camp. “No, we’re on our quest, remember?” he replied. “Is there anything I can do for you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m perfectly okay,” Sandstorm told him, her voice a little stronger. She winced, gasping in pain, as she tried to sit up, and let herself flop back into the nest. “Don’t worry about me.”

But Alderpaw couldn’t help worrying.

Sandstorm’s green eyes looked glassy, and he guessed that she was just trying to put on a brave front. When he stroked her pelt, she felt warm all over, and already she was drifting back into sleep.

She roused again a few moments later as the hunters returned, dragging a rabbit and a couple of blackbirds into the shelter of the bushes.

“It’s horrible out there,” Needlepaw complained, shaking her pelt so that the drops spattered Alderpaw. “Most of the prey is in hiding.”

“You did well, though,” Alderpaw praised her. “Come on, Sandstorm, do you want one of these blackbirds?”

His misgivings increased as Sandstorm struggled to stay awake enough to eat, and after a few mouthfuls she turned her head away. “I’m full,” she mewed. “You finish it, Alderpaw.”

When the other cats had settled down at the top of the hollow to eat their prey, Alderpaw rose to his paws to talk to them. “Sandstorm is sick,” he announced. “We can’t start traveling again until she’s fit to move.”

“I’m fit now,” Sandstorm protested, though any cat could see she was lying. “Don’t listen to this stupid furball.”

Clearly all the others understood how serious the situation was; they gazed down silently at Sandstorm, their eyes somber. Even mischievous Needlepaw had stopped joking around.

“What can we do?” Cherryfall asked.

“You know we’ll do everything we can,” Molewhisker added, and Sparkpaw nodded eagerly.

“I need marigold, horsetail, or honey,” Alderpaw told them. “They’ll help Sandstorm’s infection. I don’t know what kinds of herbs grow around here, but hopefully you’ll be able to find at least one.”

When his companions had gone, Alderpaw sat beside Sandstorm, gently licking her ears as she drifted in and out of sleep. He hardly noticed when the rain eased off, until a weak ray of sunshine sliced through the bushes. It brought Alderpaw a slight glimmer of hope.

Sparkpaw was the first cat to return, and relief flooded over Alderpaw as he saw that she was carrying a few stalks of marigold. “Good job!” he told her. “Now I can make a poultice.

Can you get the cobweb off Sandstorm’s wound? Very carefully, please.”

Sparkpaw sat beside Sandstorm and began to ease the wad of cobweb away. Sandstorm twitched and grunted in her sleep, as if she was in pain, but when Sparkpaw hesitated, Alderpaw just nodded to her to keep going.