An eerie wail echoed across the Riverclan camp and Shellpaw stiffened in fear. Abandoning her borage leaves, she pelted out of her den to find the source of the cry.

Why does something terrible have to happen while Rockhead's out of camp?

On the outer edges of the island camp, the river was swollen with floodwater. There, Shellpaw skidded to a stop in front of Whitekit. The tiny she-kit was laying in a bed of reeds, her littermates—Reedkit and Sandkit—whimpering beside her.

"What happened," Shellpaw demanded, nosing the three kits frantically for injuries. Whitekit's fur was drenched.

"Whitekit fell into the river!" Reedkit mewed. Shellpaw relaxed. Aside from Whitekit being soaked to the bone, there were no problems. Shellpaw knew how to deal with a mischievous waterlogged kit.

Gingerly, she picked up Whitekit by the scruff and trotted to the medicine den. Many warriors had come running after the first cry, but after seeing that Shellpaw could take care of it, they returned to their duties. Ignoring the borage leaves littering the ground of the den, she gently placed the kit into a clean nest before hurrying to the herb stores.

Let's see, juniper berries for loss of breath and poppy seed for the shock. Shellpaw ran over other remedies in her head, deducting any fever herbs because the den was warm and the kit was strong. As Shellpaw padded back to her patient's nest, Cloudypatch, Whitekit's mother, pushed into the den, her eyes focusing on her kit. The young queen curled up around the bundle, warming Whitekit up with her thick gray-and-white fur.

Cloudypatch turned to Shellpaw. "Did she fall into the river?"

The apprentice nodded "I need to take a look, but you could lick her warm," she suggested.

Cloudypatch dipped her head to lap the white fur. This wasn't the first time the Riverclan queen had to perform this exercise. Sandkit had tumbled in the river twice before. Since it was newleaf, all the snow and ice had melted and the river level had gone up, surprising unsuspecting kits and apprentices. The flooded grass was no danger unless the current was running strong or it was a chilly day, which this sunhigh was neither.

Focusing on Whitekit, Shellpaw tried to coax her to take deep breaths. "Is it hard to breathe at all?" she asked.
The small she-cat stared at her with wide blue eyes. "I'm just cold," she rasped.

"You wouldn't be if you were behaving," Cloudypatch scolded gently. "Especially when I'm on patrol for the first time in moons."
Whitekit said nothing, only buried deeper into her mother's belly. Shellpaw nudged the small cat gently with her nose.

"Can you eat this poppy seed for me, Whitekit?" She placed the dark seed in front of the kit's muzzle and, obediently, Whitekit lapped it up. At that moment, Whitekit's father, Shoalblaze, entered the clearing with Sandkit and Reedkit following close behind.

"Is she all right?" the thick-furred tom meowed.

"She'll live," Cloudypatch purred. "All thanks to our brilliant medicine cat apprentice." Both cats blinked warmly at Shellpaw, who looked down at her paws in embarrassment.

"Well she is your kin. Small wonder she's brilliant," Shoalblaze said proudly, licking his mate between the ears. Cloudypatch was Rockhead's littermate, making Shellpaw her half-sister.

Sandkit and Reedkit were examining their own sister, who was now sleeping deeply thanks to the poppy seed "Is she dead?" Sandkit whimpered fretfully.

"No, dearest," Cloudypatch murmured gently, resting her tail on the little ginger she-cat's back. "She's just sleeping,"

"I'm glad to see you taking such good care of our family." Shellpaw turned to see Rockhead at the mouth of the den. Her mentor stepped forward to examine Whitekit. "Well done, Shellpaw," he purred, turning to his apprentice. "Your becoming an expert kit dryer."

More leaves rustled as Riverclan's second queen, Leafstorm, poked her dark tabby head in the entrance.

"I'm sorry Cloudypatch," she mewed gruffly. "I only took my eyes off them for one heartbeat."

The gentle queen dipped her head to her disgruntled den mate. "No harm done," she assured her.

Leafstorm began to squeeze into the clearing, but Rockhead pushed her back. "I believe Whitekit is well enough to return to her own den, where you can examine her there," he meowed pointedly.

Cloudypatch purred with amusement. "Well it is a little crowded in here." Turning to her kits, she nudged them out of the den. Shoalblaze gingerly picked up Whitekit and followed his mate into the sunshine. Soon enough, Rockhead and Shellpaw were alone in the den.

Her mentor sighed with relief. The young tom preferred the comfort of solitude over crowds. Rockhead's eyes rested on the scattered borage leaves and he let out a startled cry. Frantically, he gathered them up in his paws. Shellpaw cringed with guilt behind him.

"Why are they all trampled?" he demanded fretfully.

Shellpaw ducked her head in shame. "Reedkit and Sandkit must have stepped on them when they came in." But she knew that wasn't an excuse. She quietly scolded herself. She'd known Whitekit would've been fine; she didn't have to focus all her attention on her patient and ignore the protection valuable herbs.

Rockhead sat down heavily on his haunches. "Most of these are useless now," he mewed dejectedly.

"I can go fetch some more." she offered, feeling the weight of her oversight. She also jumped at any chance she could get to be out of the forest. As much as she loved helping and healing, fresh air always made Shellpaw happy, especially after spending the day cooped up in the medicine den away from her Clan mates. She almost leaped out of her fur when Rockhead nodded his consent. She charged out of the den hastily before her mentor could change his mind.

"Make sure to bring a warrior with you," he called absently from behind her. Shellpaw skipped happily. She already knew who to invite. Pebblespots was dozing quietly near the warriors den in the midmorning light. Her light grey fur rose and fell gently, causing the darker spots to ripple beautifully along her silky pelt. The old she-cat opened one hazelnut eye when Shellpaw approached.

"Do you want to come with me to collect some herbs, Pebblespots?" Shellpaw asked after dipping her head respectfully, wasting no time.

The gray warrior sat up and stretched lazily. "Alright." she paused to yawn. "Is it alright if I bring Oakpaw as well?"

Shellpaw nodded eagerly. This was why she'd asked her friend's mentor to escort her. "Do you want me to go get him?" she offered politely. Pebblespots pointed her tail in the direction of the elders den. Shellpaw dipped her head again and bounced to the mouth of the tunnel, almost falling on Oakpaw.

"Hey, watch where you're going," he muttered, steadying her.

"You're coming with Pebblespots and me to collect herbs," Shellpaw declared, undaunted by Oakpaw's grumpy mood. The older apprentice simply grunted and followed her to the edge of camp, where Pebblespots was waiting patiently.

"Did you finish all of it?" the warrior asked.

"Of course." Oakpaw's words ended in a large yawn.

Guilt itched under Shellpaw's fur. "You don't have to come if you're too tired," she mewed.

Oakpaw perked up hastily. "No way! We never get to spend time together!" The young tom blinked hard as if to clear the drowsiness from his head. As a medicine cat apprentice, Shellpaw knew she should force Oakpaw to remain in camp and rest. But the selfish part of her wanted to be with her friend, so she didn't object.

"There's no hurry, we'll take our time," she promised, leaving it up to Pebblespots to lead the small patrol out of the confines of camp. One by one, they slipped into the river.

"What are we collecting?" the old warrior called over the echo of the rushing water.

"Borage leaves," Shellpaw reluctantly replied. She expected suspicion from the she-cat and wasn't disappointed.

"Isn't that right along the Windclan border? They aren't being the friendliest Clan neighbours right now." Pebblespots meowed, climbing out of the water on the far side. Her drenched fur still managed to bristle at the mention of the cats hunting in the moor.

"Yes, but Rockhead said it was okay." Shellpaw splashed out from under the current and hastily shook herself, praying that Pebblespots wouldn't drag them all back to camp.

"Let me lead then." The gray she-cat was still watching Shellpaw sharply as she marched purposefully through the leafy undergrowth bordering the river.

Oakpaw matched his pace with Shellpaw's. "Do you even know a single battle move?" he demanded crossly, worry welling in his eyes.

"One," Shellpaw replied sheepishly. Her friend growled softly in response but said nothing more.

So much for a pleasant walk, Shellpaw thought glumly.

The sun was sinking in the sky by the time the three of them broke through the lush forest and out onto the outskirts of the gently sloping hills of Windclan.

The moor looked barren and lonely, the grasses a washed out brown, determined to stick up sharply like thistles. Wind kicked up the parched soil and made Shellpaw's eyes water. There wasn't a soul—hunter or prey—in this, Pebblespots and Oakpaw were tense and wary, scouring the land for any sign of their hostile neighbours. Shellpaw flicked her tail crossly. The entire journey to the border had been thick with silence, despite Shellpaw's efforts to strike up a conversation.

Not even Windclan would be mousebrained enough to attack a medicine cat, especially when they're on their own side of the border! She ignored the fact that she'd brought up the same worries to Rockhead a few nights before.

Her companions didn't seem to hear her silent thoughts. Turning her back on them, she began searching the tree line for the elusive borage. She was so intent on finding it that Shellpaw failed to notice the sudden dip in the ground. Her foot tripped over the crushed dirt and she let out a startled yowl before falling flat on her face.

"What in the name of Starclan…" her curse trailed off as Shellpaw scrambled to her throbbing feet and got a look at what had slipped her up.

"What is it? What happened?" Oakpaw leaped to Shellpaw's side, closely followed by a grim-faced Pebblespots. Shellpaw couldn't find her voice, continuing to stare at the ravaged mud that had long ago dried into dirt. A cold, ominous claw of fear snaked from the tips of her ears to the ends of her tail. Distantly, she heard two shocked gasps from her Clan mates as they spotted what had caused her fear.

"What did this?" Oakpaw demanded incredulously.

"It's something I have never encountered before," Pebblespots murmured gravely.

Imprinted in the dry earth was some sort of paw print, the size of two tail lengths. Long claw marks hooked the ground in front of it. The print was deep and had a dark, musky smell to it.

Shuddering, Pebblespots continued. "Whatever creature made this is big enough to cause a considerable amount of damage." Growling, she turned and beckoned for the two apprentices to follow her back to camp, the borage leaves left forgotten for another day.

The return journey to the Riverclan camp was impossibly more soundless than the first. Shellpaw found it difficult to keep up with the fast-paced Pebblespots.

Oakpaw's eyes shifted feverishly among the trees as if expecting an enemy to pop up from under every shadow.

After what seemed like moons, the trio dived into the river leading to camp. Shepherdheart was just about to lead a patrol out when Pebblespots shook her head at the scruffy tom, flicking her tail for him to follow. Because of Pebblespots' seniority in the clan, the deputy obeyed with little hesitation.

When they climbed onto the island, Pebblespots headed straight for Willowstar, Shepherdheart fast on her heels. The Riverclan leader was amicably sharing tongues with Bluestorm. It was dusk and the Clan was settling down for the night after filling their bellies for the first time in moons. But Shellpaw no longer felt safe, and the swelling river surrounding the island now had a trapped atmosphere to it that she hadn't noted before.

Rockhead nosed his way out of the medicine den and spotted Shellpaw. "Where are those borage leaves?" he demanded crossly, splashing his way over.

Before Shellpaw could answer, Willowstar clawed her way up the overhanging tree that draped a large portion of the camp.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own fish join beneath the Highbranch for a Clan meeting!" she called in her singsong voice. Most of the clan had already assembled to eat, but Shellpaw watched as Coalstreak, Smallshore and Brackenfoot emerged drowsily from the warriors den. Longpaw strutted up to the meeting with Ryepaw close behind.

After every cat was settled, Willowstar began. "Pebblespots has just returned with some disturbing news that she will share with you all." The silver tabby stepped back, leaving room for Pebblespots to address the Clan.

"Today, on the border to Windclan, Shellpaw stumbled upon a strange paw print larger than a badger's claws. There were a couple more, and the tracks lead us into Windclan territory, where we could no longer follow. The tracks suggest that its a huge creature, bigger than I have ever encountered. I have no idea where—" Before she could finish her announcement, the Clan erupted into meows.

"That's impossible!" Coalstreak yowled. "There has never been such a large creature seen around this lake in all of Clan history!" He sat back down and began washing one large black paw, as if his opinion settled the matter. Longpaw, being the white tom's apprentice, bayed his agreement. Ryepaw echoed his call, his black and brown pelt bristling.

"Just because we haven't seen something before doesn't mean it can't exist!" Shepherdheart growled.

"Wasn't there an evil mane-less lion preying on cats at the time of the Great Journey?" Smallshore—a young golden warrior with darker flecks—called out timidly.

"What if it's made its home here?" An elder, Grayfur, cried fretfully. Wails spread through the throng of cats like a great wave, and Shellpaw resisted the urge to crouch down and close her ears. Willowstar took Pebblespot's place on the Highbranch and desperately attempted to subdue her panicking Clan. Finally, Shepherdheart jumped up to stand beside his leader and let loose a booming caterwaul. Everyone turned a startled gaze to their new deputy.

"Your leader is trying to speak," he meowed with exaggerated patience, as if he were talking to a pack of whimpering kits. Willowstar dipped her head in thanks to the scruffy tortoise-shell before turning her attention back to Pebblespots, who was now sitting rigged on the ground.

"Do you recognize any scents regarding this print?"

The gray she-cat shook her head. "All that I know is that danger is coming," she declared grimly.

The clearing was thick with silence as the Clan processed her words. Shellpaw shivered. It's as if she was stating a prophecy. She felt the thought bounce around in her head.

Willowstar turned her solemn eyes to Troutbelly, who was curled up with his smoky gray pelt brushing the ginger fur of his den mate, Kinktail.

"Can the elders shed light on this mystery?" she pressed.

Troutbelly shook his head. "We have never heard of such a large creature," he meowed.

Willowstar nodded and turned back to her deputy. "I want you to take a patrol out at dawn to see what else you can glean from these prints," she ordered.

Shepherdheart dipped his head and meowed, "In my travels I have encountered many strange beasts. Maybe I can identify this one."

The cats below perked up, silently pleading to Starclan that the proud tom could identify such a creature. Not knowing your enemy is a lot scarier than facing a threat you can comprehend, Shellpaw thought, watching her fearful clan.

"But I won't say I could know anything for sure." Shepherdheart seemed to think over his words carefully, clearly not wanting to get his followers' hopes up.

"There will always be something unknown to a cat, no matter how far it travels."

Willowstar nodded and nimbly climbed down the tree, the meeting clearly finished. The weary Clan began to disperse. Most gathered in small groups to mew agitatedly to each other. The air of tranquility had vanished. Shellpaw heaved herself up and began to stumble towards the medicine den when Oakpaw called her name. The young tabby trotted over and nosed her cheek.

"You really need to get in some battle training," he meowed.

Shellpaw shrugged. "I don't think Rockhead has ever lifted a claw in his life, and he surely doesn't know how to." Medicine cats generally didn't have extensive battle training like the warriors did. Rockhead was a clumsy fighter at best, and a danger to himself at worst.

"Then let me teach you!" Oakpaw looked ready to burst with excitement at the prospect.

Shellpaw's hackles raised in shock. "But you're an apprentice!"

"I know enough to help you," he retorted, hurt flashing in his eyes at the immediate refusal. It made her feel guilty.

"Willowstar would never allow an apprentice warrior to mentor an apprentice medicine cat on battle moves," she chided gently.

Oakpaw's tail drooped. "At least talk to Willowstar about learning how to defend yourself," he begged.

Shellpaw licked his ear. "All right," she mewed quietly. Oakpaw dipped his head gratefully. Over his shoulder, Shellpaw saw something flicker in the reeds. Whatever it was had a light silver pelt. The creature turned glowing green eyes on Shellpaw.

She blinked, and the probing gaze was gone.