Leafpool nodded. “I need to say one thing before we meet with StarClan,” she announced. “These are challenging times, and I know that every cat wants to do their best to save the Clans. But I hope that we all have the sense to look after ourselves, and not put ourselves in danger fishing for information. Don’t you agree, Alderheart?”
Aware of Leafpool’s sharp glance resting on him, Alderheart ducked his head. “Sure, Leafpool,” he mumbled.
Meanwhile, Jayfeather was shifting his paws impatiently. “Are we
“We’ll do it now,” Leafpool responded. “And may StarClan light our path.”
Together with the other medicine cats, Alderheart crouched over the pool and touched his nose to the surface of the water. Icy darkness swirled around him, and when it cleared, he found himself standing on short grass, which stretched away as far as he could see.
He looked around for the spirits of his ancestors, but instead he caught sight of a group of skinny, ragged cats sheltering under some bushes a few fox-lengths away.
“SkyClan… ,” he whispered to himself.
Pain clawed at his heart as Alderheart recognized the cat who was on watch: the large tom who looked so much like Twigpaw, but with Violetpaw’s eyes. He realized once again how much this cat resembled his lost friend.
Then sudden hope sprang up inside Alderheart.
He padded up to the group of cats, knowing that none of them would realize that he was there. He passed so close to the large tabby tom that their pelts almost brushed.
But though Alderheart thoroughly searched the group of resting cats and peered underneath every bush, there was no sign of Twigpaw, and he couldn’t pick up even the faintest trace of her scent.
His hope died, leaving him even more grief-stricken than before. Opening his eyes, he found himself once again crouching beside the Moonpool, but its beauty left his heart cold.
“Wow, I’ve never seen a pigeon disappear so fast,” Darktail meowed, looking up at Violetpaw from the rabbit he was eating. His eyes gleamed teasingly. “Maybe you’d like some of this rabbit as well.”
Scorchfur, one of the last remaining ShadowClan warriors, pricked up his ears and frowned, as if he couldn’t believe Darktail’s good-humored tone. But he didn’t speak, instead running to carry a squirrel to his mate, Snowbird, who was in the nursery with her kits.
Violetpaw had to choke down her mouthful; she trusted Darktail even less when he was being friendly. “No thanks, Darktail. I’m not even sure I can finish this.”
“Well, tell me if you change your mind,” Darktail responded. “We can’t have you starving, can we?”
As he spoke, Scorchfur came back, hesitated for a moment, and then meowed, “Maybe we should give the leftover prey to the RiverClan prisoners—and to Needletail. They’re beginning to look really skinny. After all,” he added with a glance toward the center of the camp, where the prisoners were kept, “if we’re going to keep them prisoner, isn’t it our responsibility to see that they’re healthy?”
Violetpaw spotted Darktail narrowing his eyes, his muzzle tensing in anger, then an instant later relaxing. His voice was calm as he replied to Scorchfur.
“Of course I’m feeding the prisoners well. Do you have any reason to think otherwise?”
Scorchfur glared at Darktail, hatred shining visibly in his eyes. Looking from one cat to the other, Violetpaw felt her neck fur prickle with fear.
