River Of Fire

Alderheart padded along the bank, heading upstream, and finally spotted a few stems of the precious herb. They were growing close to the water’s edge, and he had to lean precariously over the stream before he could manage to pick them.

After scrambling back to safety, he headed back to camp with the scant bundle. Overhead, dark clouds were massing again, and Alderheart felt a tingle of unease as he glanced up at them. The first drops of rain splashed onto his head.

It feels like half a moon at least since I really saw the sun, he thought. I’ve never seen anything like this before.

His medicine-cat awareness told him that these clouds were more than just the promise of rain. The dark sky must not herald a storm. Could the darkening sky be a literal sign of the prophecy coming true? The clouds seemed darker and denser than any he had seen before, bulging with rain, and Alderheart couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom, disaster hanging over the Clans just as the clouds were looming over the forest.

Something is coming. I can feel it. . . .

“Why are you chewing up that chervil root?” Jayfeather demanded, giving Alderheart a sharp prod in his shoulder with one paw. “The sick cats need watermint! Are you still an apprentice?”

Alderheart spat the chervil-root chunks onto a dock leaf and suppressed a sigh. Since so many cats had come down with the sickness, Jayfeather had become crankier than ever. But Alderheart knew him well enough not to be offended.

“We don’t have watermint,” he pointed out calmly. He had given the few scraps he had managed to find to Plumkit. “Do you expect me to pull it out of my ears?”

“No,” Jayfeather grumbled. “I expect you to stay out there until you find some.”

Alderheart cast a glance at the bramble screen that covered the entrance to the medicine-cat den. Outside, the rain was hissing down; still, Alderheart would willingly get soaked to the skin if it meant he could find the herb they so desperately needed.

“Don’t act like such a kit,” Alderheart mewed teasingly to Jayfeather, “just because we have a lot to do!” Alderheart thought for a moment. “You know there’s hardly any watermint left in the border stream. We might have to find another supply,” he added.

“And you need to chew that chervil root more thoroughly,” Jayfeather added irritably, prodding at the pulp with one paw. “The chunks are far too big. How do you think you can force that down Whitewing’s muzzle? Any apprentice knows that!”

Alderheart stopped himself from pointing out that it was Jayfeather who had interrupted his chewing. “We ought to talk about the prophecy,” he meowed instead, hoping that with so many cats to treat, Jayfeather wouldn’t be likely to wander off, and at last they could have a useful discussion. “Without ShadowClan and with RiverClan closing its borders . . .” StarClan had made it clear that they needed all five Clans.

But Jayfeather waved his tail dismissively. “I don’t care about that right now,” he responded. “It’s more important to get all these cats better, so that they can get back to their duties.”

Leafpool was lying beside Plumkit, licking her gently when she whimpered from the bellyache.

Now the medicine cat raised her head. “Alderheart, this sickness spreads so quickly, I think we should move Briarlight into the nursery. It could be especially dangerous for her, if she catches it.”

Briarlight, who was drowsing in her own nest, roused at Leafpool’s words. “Don’t worry about me,” she mewed. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, Leafpool’s right,” Alderheart declared. “It’s a good idea.”

Even while he spoke, he couldn’t help thinking of Whitewing, the most seriously ill of the cats. She seemed to be missing her daughter Dovewing, who had disappeared more than a moon ago, so much that she hadn’t the will or the strength to fight the sickness. Day after day, Alderheart had to encourage her to eat her herbs.

“It’s going to be pretty crowded in the nursery,” Jayfeather pointed out.

Since there was no room in the medicine-cat den for all the sick cats, Alderheart had sent all of them except Plumkit into the apprentices’ den, and moved Twigpaw and Finpaw into the nursery.

“There’s room,” he murmured. “The apprentices are helping over there, after all. And if we move Briarlight, we’ll have space over here for Whitewing. I’d like to keep a closer eye on her.”

Jayfeather’s only response was a grunt.

Alderheart stuck his head out through the bramble screen, wincing at the cold rain that showered down on him. Glancing around, he spotted Lionblaze padding past, his golden pelt darkened and plastered to his sides, a squirrel dangling from his jaws.

“Hey, Lionblaze!” Alderheart yowled. “I need your help.”

“Okay,” Lionblaze mumbled around the mouthful of prey. “Whatever it is, I can’t get any wetter. Let me just drop this on the fresh-kill pile.”