Mistystar’s Omen

“Yes, of course.” Mistystar turned away but looked back over her shoulder. “And well done for working so hard. I know things aren’t easy at the moment, but I’m proud of you for keeping up with your training.”

Rushpaw twitched his tail. “We’re just doing what any loyal cat would do,” he insisted. “You can count on us, Mistystar.”

Chapter 8

Keeping her weight balanced over her haunches so that she didn’t tip forward and fall in, Mistystar sliced her paw through the water. Her claws sank into the minnow’s narrow body and she flicked it triumphantly onto the rock beside her. The tiny fish flapped for a moment before lying still.

“Nicely done!” called a voice, making Mistystar look up in surprise.

Beetlewhisker was watching her from the top of the shore. His brown-and-white fur stood out sharply against the gray stones.

“It’s still not much more than a mouthful,” Mistystar pointed out, glancing down at her catch in disappointment. Reedwhisker had taken a patrol upstream that morning in search of more prey outside the territory, but Mistystar had wanted to check for herself the state of the lake.

“At least the big fish are coming back!” Beetlewhisker purred.

Mistystar put her head on one side. “They are?”

Beetlewhisker nodded. “Oh, yes. I saw a huge trout yesterday, longer than my tail. Mothwing told me to leave it alone, though.”

“She did?”

“Yes, to give the lake a chance to build up its stocks again. She said we should let the bigger fish build up their numbers and breed again before we start catching them.”

Mistystar felt her mouth fall open. “She didn’t mention this to me.”

Beetlewhisker blinked. “Well, maybe she thought you’d feel the same?” He sounded uncomfortable, and Mistystar felt sorry for challenging him. He wasn’t the cat she needed to speak to about this. She stood up and picked up her minnow.

“I’d better add this to the fresh-kill pile,” she meowed. “See you later, Beetlewhisker.”

She left the warrior standing rather unhappily on the shore, and threaded back through the ferns to the camp. She dropped her fish onto the pile and went to the medicine cats’ den. Mothwing was inside alone, doing something complicated with a heap of leaves.

“Why did you tell Beetlewhisker not to catch the trout?” Mistystar demanded.

Mothwing looked up. “Because we want to let the lake recover first,” she meowed. “What’s the point of taking all of the big fish as soon as they appear?”

“That should have been my decision,” Mistystar insisted. She knew she was being stubborn—Mothwing had a fair point—but she couldn’t help feeling that she was being deliberately undermined.

“You weren’t there!” Mothwing pointed out. “And I’m allowed to have an opinion, aren’t I?” There was a hint of challenge in her gaze, which made Mistystar bristle even more.

“You know what? I’m not sure anymore! Not after lying to the Clan about StarClan!”

“I didn’t lie!” Mothwing flashed back.

“By letting us believe you could be our medicine cat, you did.”

Mothwing stared at her. “Are you saying you don’t trust me to do anything?”

Mistystar felt her tail droop. “I don’t think I do,” she murmured. “Everything’s going wrong, the Clan is still hungry, and I need StarClan to know that they can send us signs at any time.”

“Willowshine will tell you if she sees a sign.”

“Will she really? Or is her loyalty to you too strong?” Mistystar suddenly felt very tired. “Please accept that you can no longer be a medicine cat, Mothwing. Before StarClan gives up on us completely.”

Mothwing curled her tail over her back and padded out of the den. “Just because I don’t believe in StarClan, Mistystar, you don’t have to give up your faith in them,” she whispered on her way past.

As Mistystar followed Mothwing away from the rocks, she heard a small commotion beside the fresh-kill pile. Mossypaw was bickering with Troutpaw over who should have the last piece of squirrel. At least they’re getting a taste for land prey, Mistystar thought. She didn’t have the energy to sort out the apprentices’ quarrel, so she headed for the entrance and pushed her way into the middle of the territory, where the bushes grew most densely. It was quiet and sheltered under here, and she found a patch of dry leaves to lie down on.

She listened to the leaves on the holly tree rattling in the breeze, and watched a few late elderflower petals drift down in front of her. Something stirred in her mind. Hadn’t Rushpaw described a place under an elderflower bush next to a holly tree where he and Hollowpaw had practiced their battle techniques? Mistystar looked around. Holly trees weren’t common in their territory, and she was pretty sure there wasn’t another one so close to an elder bush. But the ground was smooth and the layer of fallen leaves undisturbed; there had been no fighting here for a long while. Had Rushpaw lied?