Dark River полностью

He darted to the back of the cave, ignoring the comfrey that would help Cinderpaw’s bones to heal, and picked up some of the sweet-smelling mallow leaves instead. The mallow would do nothing but soothe her belly. If any of Cinderpelt’s knowledge lingered inside her, she would know it was the wrong medicine and say something.

“Here you are,” he announced, dropping the mallow leaves in her nest.

“These smell nice,” Cinderpaw mewed.

“It’s mallow,” Jaypaw told her. He nudged them closer.

“Great for broken bones.” He searched her mind for any doubt, but nothing stirred except gratitude.

“Thanks, Jaypaw.”

“What are you doing?” Leafpool whisked past and snatched the mallow leaves away. He felt suspicion pricking in the medicine cat’s pelt as she brushed against him. “You should be giving her comfrey.”

“I must have picked up the wrong leaves,” Jaypaw lied.

“Be more careful next time.” Irritation flashed from Leafpool. She didn’t believe him. Had she guessed he had been testing Cinderpaw? “Get back to making poultices,” she snapped. Her voice softened as she spoke to Cinderpaw.

“Sorry, Cinderpaw. It’s not like Jaypaw to be so distracted.”

Jaypaw padded mutinously away to the back of the den. It was so unfair! Leafpool had no patience with him these days, and yet she put up with Cinderpaw’s boredom and fidgeting with unending kindness. He flicked his tail petulantly at the stems soaking in the pool. “Is that horsetail ready yet?” He knew full well that they’d need soaking overnight for the juices to be fully restored.

“Of course not!” she meowed. “Use the ones I soaked yesterday!”

“Okay!” He hooked a soggy stem from a nearby pile and began to gnaw crossly at one end.

Leafpool padded over to join him. Comfrey scent filled the air as she collected a few leaves for Cinderpaw. “What’s the matter with you?” she hissed.

“What’s the matter with you?” he snapped back.

“I’m not the one giving Cinder paw the wrong medicine.”

“I only wanted to see if she would know the difference.”

“She’s Cinder paw, not Cinderpelt!”

“But there must be something there.”

“If there is, it’s not up to us to find it!” Jaypaw felt Leafpool’s breath on his cheek. “We have to let Cinderpaw find her own destiny!”

“What’s wrong with helping her along? Surely Cinderpaw deserves to know that she’s been sent back by StarClan to be a warrior.”

“If StarClan wants her to know, they’ll tell her,” Leafpool mewed.

“So you’re happy to leave it in the paws of StarClan.”

“Of course!” She sounded shocked. “And so should you.”

Jaypaw went back to chewing. The stem’s bitter juice made his whiskers twitch. Why was Leafpool so totally in awe of her ancestors? He’d met them; they seemed no different from cats who were still alive. Did Leafpool really think that dying made a dumb cat wise? They could walk in other cats’ dreams, but so could he. That didn’t mean he knew the answer to everything.

“Jaypaw!” Cinderpaw’s mew rang around the den.

Jaypaw blinked open his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Cinderpaw sounded wide awake. Jaypaw lifted his muzzle and sniffed. It smelled as though dawn had only just arrived. Couldn’t she sleep a little longer? Or at least let him sleep a little longer?

“Leafpool’s gone to check on Foxkit,” she mewed. “I thought we could have a game while she’s gone.”

Jaypaw struggled to his paws, yawning. He could feel the lively energy coming off Cinderpaw in waves.

“I wish I could move my leg,” she complained. “I feel fine apart from that.”

“You have to keep it still if you want it to mend properly,” Jaypaw told her.

“I know, I know.” Cinderpaw sighed. “But I’m so bored!”

Jaypaw felt a wave of sympathy for her. Newleaf had set the forest atwitter and the scent of fresh life called out like a friend begging to play. Something whistled through the air and bounced softly off his shoulder. A moss ball.

“Okay,” he conceded. “But you’re not allowed to move from your nest. I’ll throw it to you.”

“But you can’t see me.”

“Yes,” Jaypaw agreed. “But since you never shut up I can always hear exactly where you are.” He hooked the moss ball up with his paw and lobbed it at her.

Her nest scrunched as she stretched to catch it.

I must throw it lower next time.

The moss ball hissed through the air once more. Judging its distance exactly, Jaypaw leaped and dived, rolling over as he caught it.

“Wow!” Cinderpaw purred. “Impressive.” She was suddenly still. “What’s it like?”

Jaypaw tipped his head to one side. “What’s what like?”

“Being blind.”

“What does it feel like being able to see?”

“I don’t know, I guess it feels normal.”

“Well, being blind feels normal to me.”

“But isn’t it hard not being able to tell where everything is?”

“But I can tell.” Jaypaw appreciated Cinderpaw’s honesty; most other cats acted like if they didn’t talk about his lack of sight, he’d forget he was any different. “Everything smells or makes a sound, and sometimes I get a”—he searched for the right word—“a sense of things.”

“So you never get frustrated?”