Mistystar bunched her hindquarters beneath her, ready to spring down, but Robinwing held her back.
“Wait! Mallownose has him!”
The brown warrior had dug his claws into the top of the fence and lowered himself down until he could sink his teeth into Reedwhisker’s scruff. He hauled the barely moving cat out of the dogs’ reach and carried him along the wood, with Hollowpaw and Rushpaw stumbling in front of him. The dogs sprang and snapped at them from below, but Mallownose kept going, his eyes bulging from the effort of holding his Clanmate.
Mistystar pushed the apprentices out of the way as they stood trembling on the wall, and stretched out to take her son from Mallownose. The black tom was moaning softly, and a huge gash stretched across his flank. The wound was so deep that Mistystar could see the white gleam of bone at the top of his hind leg.
“Oh, StarClan,” she whispered.
“We’re so sorry,” Hollowpaw whimpered. “We were just looking for food.”
“Kittypet food,” Rushpaw added. He hung his head. “We found some here before, and it didn’t taste too bad. We thought if we got enough to eat here, we wouldn’t have to take anything from the fresh-kill pile.”
Mistystar stared at the apprentices, resisting the urge to claw their ears off until they screamed as loudly as Reedwhisker had. They never meant for any cat to get hurt. They thought they were helping.
Robinwing stepped alongside Mistystar. “Let’s get Reedwhisker back to the camp,” he meowed. He and Mallownose stood at the foot of the wall while Graymist and Mistystar lowered Reedwhisker onto their shoulders. The warriors stumbled a little under the deputy’s weight, then braced themselves and began the slow trek back through the grass. Mistystar walked at Reedwhisker’s head, trying to stop it from bouncing against Mallownose’s elbow. Graymist followed, with the apprentices on each side of her. The young cats were too dazed and miserable to speak.
They kept to the top of the bank, not wanting to risk Reedwhisker falling into the still-swollen stream. Once they reached the bushes inside RiverClan territory, Graymist and Mistystar went ahead to hold branches out of the way. Reedwhisker’s body was still whipped by stray twigs, though, and Mistystar whimpered every time he was lashed by another loose branch.
As they entered the camp, Graymist yowled, “Mothwing! Quick!”
Mothwing’s golden head poked out from the elders’ den. “What is it?” Scraps of moss clung to her fur, and Mistystar guessed she had been building herself a nest.
“Reedwhisker is hurt!” Mallownose told her, but Mothwing was already pushing her way out of the branches and running across the clearing. The warriors let Reedwhisker slip gently to the ground.
Mothwing stared at the gaping wound. “We need cobweb, comfrey, marigold, watermint,” she began. “Robinwing, fetch some soaked moss. Do I smell dog?”
“Yes,” mewed Mallownose. “He was bitten by at least one, if not two.”
“In that case, we need to get this wound as clean as possible.” Mothwing ran her paw lightly along Reedwhisker’s spine. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but let’s keep him still anyway.”
Mistystar stepped forward. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly speak. But she reached out with one paw and moved Mothwing away from Reedwhisker. “Let Willowshine do this,” she mewed.
Her Clanmates stared at her. “Mistystar, what are you doing?” Graymist exclaimed. “Mothwing is our medicine cat!”
“Not anymore,” Mistystar replied softly.
Mothwing blinked. “Are you sure you mean this? Reedwhisker is very, very sick.”
“Willowshine knows what to do,” Mistystar whispered. “StarClan will help her.”
Mothwing flinched, then turned away. “I’ll get her,” she mewed.
“I don’t understand!” growled Robinwing. “What’s going on?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Mistystar insisted.
Willowshine raced up. “Mothwing said Reedwhisker was hurt!” She stopped and stared down at the deputy, whose wound was staining the earth beneath him as scarlet as a sunset. “Great StarClan!”
Mistystar lifted her head high. “I know you can heal him, Willowshine. Please, help him.”
Willowshine opened her mouth to protest, then shut it with a snap and began examining the injury. Mistystar gazed down at her son. I won’t lose you too, she vowed. I know you need StarClan’s help to survive this, and Mothwing can’t give you that. I’m doing the right thing; I must be.
A crowd of cats gathered around Reedwhisker. Mothwing brought herbs to Willowshine, then left. Mistystar heard murmurs ripple around the Clan, ranging from puzzled to angry.
“Where’s Mothwing going?”
“How can she turn her back on an injured Clanmate? Surely that’s breaking the medicine code!”
“Mistystar said she wasn’t the medicine cat anymore.”
“What? In the name of StarClan, why not?”
Because to Mothwing, StarClan doesn’t exist! Mistystar thought desperately. She watched as Willowshine carefully rinsed Reedwhisker’s wound, then packed it with cobwebs and freshly pulped herbs. Reedwhisker’s eyes remained closed, and his breathing was so shallow his flank barely moved. Mistystar couldn’t bear to see him suffer any longer. She padded out of the camp and headed into the densest part of the territory. She crawled into a patch of brambles and curled up, wrapping her tail over her nose.
StarClan, we need you now! Guide Willowshine’s paws; help her to heal Reedwhisker’s injuries and make him strong again. Please don’t take my last kit from me!
The air stirred beside her, and a faint scent drifted through the thorns. Mistystar lifted her head. “Stonefur?” She could just make out a shape against the brambles, gray-furred and broad-shouldered. “Stonefur! Have you come for Reedwhisker? Please don’t take him to StarClan yet!”
Her brother leaned toward her until she felt his breath on her cheek. “Reedwhisker’s life hangs by the thinnest fish scale,” he whispered. “He needs all the help he can get.”
“Then speak to Willowshine!” Mistystar begged. “Tell her what she should do!”
Stonefur shook his head, almost in sorrow. “The lake is not the only source of prey,” he mewed, echoing what he had said before. “RiverClan has another medicine cat.”
“But Mothwing doesn’t believe in you! How can she be a true medicine cat? She has lied to the whole Clan, and she will be forever blind to what you tell her.”
“Did StarClan tell you how to give birth to your kits?” Stonefur queried.
Mistystar gazed at her brother in astonishment. “No, of course not.”
“So you trusted your instincts, and acted alone?”
“Well, I had Mudfur to help me, but yes, I guess my instincts told me what to do,” Mistystar admitted. She had no idea where this was leading. Beside her, Stonefur was starting to fade. Mistystar reached out with her front paw, trying to hold the vision where it was.
“Perhaps you should trust Mothwing to act alone,” came the last whisper.
Dazed, Mistystar shoved her way out of the brambles. On the last tendril, a pale green pod balanced, so delicate that Mistystar could almost see through it. Something made her pause, and as she watched, the pod began to split open. A damp, folded brown creature emerged, not much thicker than a twig. The sides of the pod fell away, leaving the creature clinging to the bramble. Mistystar watched, entranced, as the tiny shape stretched out first one wing, then the other. They gleamed in the pale light, thinner than gossamer and lifted by the softest breeze. As the wings dried, bolder colors appeared: rich fox-colored brown, bright circles of blue edged in white, and specks of black that looked like the opposite of stars. It was a moth!
Does it know what it is? Mistystar wondered. Fly, little one! That’s what your wings are for!
The moth clung to the tendril, its wings trembling. Then, with a twitch of its hair’s-breadth legs, it flexed its wings and let the breeze lift it into the air. It hung for a moment above the bramble; then its wings folded and unfolded in a single heartbeat and the moth soared up through the brambles, flitting past the thorns and out into the cold, crisp sky.
Mistystar realized she had been holding her breath. Did the moth have its own StarClan? Or had it really emerged all on its own, known how to spread its wings and take flight purely by instinct? Stonefur’s words came back to her, and Mistystar’s fur started to tingle. You sent this moth, didn’t you, Stonefur? You meant this to be an omen—an omen for me that I should trust Mothwing’s instincts, and not judge her for what she does not do.