The Fourth Apprentice

“What?” Mousefur choked on a ragwort leaf when Jayfeather came to the point where Leopardstar had laid claim to the lake and all the fish. “She can’t do that!”

Jayfeather shrugged. “She’s done it. She said that RiverClan deserves to have all the fish because they can’t eat any other sort of prey.”

“And StarClan let her get away with it?” Mousefur hissed. “There were no clouds covering the moon?”

“If there had been, the Gathering would have broken up.”

“What are our warrior ancestors thinking?” Mousefur snarled. “How could they stand by and let that mange-ridden she-cat decide that no other Clans can use the lake?”

Jayfeather couldn’t answer her. He hadn’t received any signs from StarClan recently, not since the beginning of the hot weather. Leafpool would have heard from StarClan by now, he thought. They would have told her what to do to help the Clan.

Leaving Mousefur muttering darkly over the last of the ragwort, Jayfeather pushed his way out of the elders’ den and headed into the clearing. Passing the apprentices’ den, he picked up a couple of unexpected scents. “Now what’s going on?” he meowed irritably.

He padded across to the den and stuck his head through the bracken that covered the entrance. He could hear muffled whispering and rustling among the moss and bracken of the apprentices’ nests.

“Dovekit! Ivykit!” he growled. “Come out of there. You’re not apprentices yet.”

The two kits scampered out of the den, stifling mrrows of laughter as they halted beside Jayfeather and shook scraps of moss from their fur.

“We were only looking!” Dovekit protested. “We’ll be apprentices any day now, so we wanted to choose good places for our new nests.”

“Side by side,” Ivykit added. “We’re going to do all our training together.”

“That’s right,” Dovekit mewed. “And we’re never going on patrol with any other cats.”

Jayfeather let out a snort, not knowing whether he felt amused or frustrated. “In your dreams, kits. The other apprentices will tell you where you’re going to sleep. And your mentors will tell you when to patrol, and who to go with.”

The two kits were silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then Dovekit burst out, “We don’t care! Come on, Ivykit, let’s tell Whitewing that we looked in the den!”

Jayfeather stayed where he was for a moment as the two kits bundled off toward the nursery. There was an ache in his chest as he remembered when he had been a kit and believed he had a mother to boast to. Now he only had Leafpool.

As though the thought had called her up, his real mother’s scent drifted toward him as she emerged from the thorn tunnel with the rest of a hunting patrol. Tasting the air, Jayfeather could tell that Dustpelt, Brackenfur, and even the apprentice Bumblepaw were carrying fresh-kill, but Leafpool had nothing.

Jayfeather’s lip curled into a sneer. All she’s caught is fleas! She’s a medicine cat, not a warrior. She should be helping me, not trying to pretend that her entire history vanished on the day the truth came out.

He heard Leafpool’s paw steps padding toward him, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He turned his head away, and felt her sadness as she passed him. She didn’t try to speak, but he could pick up her loneliness and sense of defeat as sharply as if they were his own. It’s as if she’s given up every scrap of fight she ever had!

Jayfeather could sense the awkwardness of the rest of the patrol, too, as if they didn’t know how to treat Leafpool anymore. She had been their trusted medicine cat for so long that they didn’t want to punish her for loving a WindClan cat once, but it seemed as if they no longer knew how to treat her as a much-loved and loyal Clanmate.

The hunting patrol started to put their prey on the fresh-kill pile. Brightheart followed them in through the thorn tunnel; Jayfeather caught the tang of the yarrow she was carrying.

“That’s great, Brightheart,” he called. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find any, and we’re totally out.”

“There’re a few plants near the old Twoleg nest,” Brightheart mumbled around her mouthful of stems as she headed for the medicine cat’s den.

Many seasons ago, a former medicine cat, Cinderpelt, had taught Brightheart the basic uses of herbs and how to treat minor wounds and illnesses. Ever since Jayfeather had become the only ThunderClan medicine cat, Brightheart had been helping him by gathering herbs and dealing with straightforward injuries. He knew she could never be his real apprentice—she was older than him, and committed to being a warrior—but he was grateful for her support.