Thunder And Shadow

Perhaps she should have gone with Twigpaw when she’d asked. Violetpaw pushed the questions away and m ade herself busy each time they popped into her thoughts.

Today rain dripped through the canopy as she woke. She heard it from inside the cozy apprentices’ den and fluffed out her fur before nosing her way into the clearing. The rest of the Clan was still sleeping as she padded quietly across camp. Weak dawn light hardly showed through the clouds. As she tried to think of a sheltered patch of bracken where she could gather dry stem s for the elders’ bedding, Puddleshine padded from the medicine den.

Worry clouded his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Violetpaw hurried toward him, her paws squelching over the m uddy ground.

She glanced past him toward the medicine-den entrance. She knew Wasptail and Oakfur were inside, sick with a m y sterious illness. “Are they worse?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Puddleshine paced, oblivious to the rain soaking his fur. “I’ve tried every herb I know. I thought it was greencough, but catm int hasn’t helped. Tansy eases their breathing for a while, but their fever is getting worse, and nothing seem s to help.”

“Can I help?” Violetpaw offered. “I can fetch more herbs—”

“Didn’t you hear m e? Herbs aren’t working!” Puddleshine stared at her, panic glittering in his gaze. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Speak to Rowanstar,” Violetpaw urged, wishing she had som ething better to suggest.

“Perhaps he’s seen the illness before. He might know what Littlecloud used to do.”

Puddleshine blinked at her gratefully and headed for the leader’s den.

Violetpaw followed, shaking rain from her pelt.

“Rowanstar!” Puddleshine called softly through the entrance.

A husky growl sounded from the shadows. “Who is it?”

“It’s m e, Puddleshine.” The young medicine cat stepped back as Rowanstar slid from his den.

The ShadowClan leader’s eyes were bleary with sleep. His fur was unkem pt, and he stared listlessly at Puddleshine. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know how to cure Wasptail and Oakfur,” Puddleshine confessed. “I’ve tried every thing I know, but none of it works.”

“I thought they had greencough,” Rowanstar grunted. “Give them catm int.”

“Catm int isn’t working. It must be another illness. One I don’t know.” Puddleshine looked frantic.

Rowanstar’s pelt prickled irritably along his spine. “You’re the medicine cat,” he growled.

“Why are you asking m e?”

Violetpaw padded closer. “He thought you might have seen the illness before,” she told him.

“He hoped y ou’d know what to do.”

“Littlecloud took care of sickness.” Rowanstar blinked at her crossly.

“Perhaps we should ask a more experienced medicine cat,” Violetpaw ventured. “Perhaps Leafpool could come and help again. I can go and fetch her now—”

“No!” Rowanstar’s eyes flashed with anger. “We’re not asking ThunderClan for help.”

“But she trained m e!” Puddleshine argued. “You didn’t mind asking for help then.”

“I had no choice,” Rowanstar growled.

“We have no choice now,” Puddleshine pressed. “We can’t let Wasptail and Oakfur get sicker.

Oakfur is old. I don’t know if he can survive much longer. And what if the sickness spreads? I have to know what to do.”

“Try other herbs.” Rowanstar fluffed out his pelt against the hardening rain. He turned and slunk back into the shelter of his den.

Puddleshine stared after him, eyes round. “I’ve tried every thing I know,” he mewed thickly.

“I could slip out of camp now and fetch Leafpool any way,” Violetpaw mewed softly.

“No.” Puddleshine shook his head. “Rowanstar would be angry.”

“But you need help!”

Puddleshine gazed at her wearily. “I’ll just keep giving them the herbs I’ve got and hope that they im prove.” He wandered away, lost in thought. “Perhaps if I m ix tansy, coltsfoot, and borage

…”

His voice trailed away as he neared his den.

Violetpaw stared after him, wondering how to help. I’ll suggest to Dawnpelt that we spend the day gathering herbs.

Dawnpelt agreed, and through the wet m orning she and Violetpaw gathered bundles of tansy, coltsfoot, and borage. Puddleshine had shown them sprigs from the store in his den, and soon Violetpaw could trace the scent of them from several fox-lengths away.

At sunhigh they headed back to camp, their jaws filled with herbs. Violetpaw felt dizzy from the heady fragrances as she padded through the entrance tunnel. She blinked through the rain.

Scorchfur, Crowfrost, and Tawny pelt were gathered at the entrance to Rowanstar’s den, Tigerheart hurry ing to j oin them. Violetpaw could tell by their rippling pelts that som ething was wrong.

She glanced at Dawnpelt. Her m entor’s eyes flashed with worry. She must have seen them too. Together they raced across camp.

Violetpaw dropped her bundle of herbs as Tawny pelt turned and stared at her, alarm ed.

“What’s happened?”

“Rowanstar’s not well.” Tawny pelt’s eyes glittered with worry. She glanced at the m ouse at her paws. “I took him som e prey but he won’t wake up. He must be really sick.”