Chapter 9

Oceanpelt watched Whitewhisker lead the dusk patrol outside the camp. He sighed. It's like Whitewhisker is always on patrols or hunts or some task or another. He's so busy! His own ears ducked in shame I wish I could do something for WindClan, but I'm a terrible mess at hunting.

He winced. His pride still stung whenever he remembered the angry ThunderClan patrol demanding why he had crossed the border, and he felt as if huge, powerful claws were raking through his pelt. Now, hardly any of the WindClan cats acknowledged when he was around, as if they didn't want him there. Oceanpelt sighed. So long as he was staying here without doing anything or receiving any messages from rock, his wound was healing, bit by bit, and time was running out for him in WindClan. And he hated to admit it, but he felt as if he were burdening the Clan. He was useless at hunting, and so far, had only succeeded in getting WindClan into trouble.

After the he and the WindClan patrol had argued with ThunderClan, they had returned home with their two pieces of prey and reported back to Broadstar. Oceanpelt felt lucky that he hadn't been banished right then and there. From now on, I have to be better.

After that they had gone to sleep, Oceanpelt curled up, lonely on his secluded spot under the stars. He had woken up the next morning and spent another day resting, and now it was almost sundown.

He yawned, sighing in frustration. Where was Rock? The tom had surely sent him here to WindClan to do something! Why wasn't he sending him a sign, or telling him what to do? Was Oceanpelt supposed to look for answers himself? I'm not a medicine cat like Feathershine, he thought bitterly.

Speaking of Feathershine, here she comes. The beautiful white she-cat hurried out of the medicine den, a mouthful of herbs in her jaws. She looked worried, a hasty spring into her step.

Feeling generous, Oceanpelt thought that he might as well make himself useful. He got up. "Hi, Feathershine," he greeted cheerfully. "You look busy. I was wondering if I can help in some way?"

Feathershine dropped her herbs at her paws. "Thanks, Oceanpelt," she responded warmly with a flick of her tail. "Cherryfall's coughing is suddenly worse. She must have caught a chill, and now she's finding it hard to breath. I don't have enough coltsfoot to give to her."

Oceanpelt nodded determinedly. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to go out on the moors to look for herbs," she answered. "It would be a great help if you could come and help me look."

Oceanpelt nodded once more, this time more rigorously. "Sure," he agreed. At least there's no way to mess this up!

They set off quickly, Feathershine explaining everything Oceanpelt needed to know as they went on. "Cherryfall's an elder, and her breathing is really weak. I need to constantly watch it, but I've run out of coltsfoot, and I badly need tp replenish my stock as quickly as possible. Coltsfoot is the best herb there is for wheezing and breathing troubles."

Oceanpelt tried his best to take that all in. "Right." He twitched his whiskers. "What does coltsfoot look and smell like?"

"I'll show you." She flicked her tail out toward the blood-red moor. "There's a thick clump that grows near the lake, right by the horseplace. The flowers are bright yellow and round, the size of a quarter of my paw. The leaves are shaped like angular lily-pads. You'll be able to recognize the scent, it's very sweet."

The sun was setting over the moor-tops, casting scarlet shadows onto the grass. The purple heather turned pink and the normally sunny, dark yellow gorse flowers were stained orange. Oceanpelt took a moment to admire the beautiful scenery: elegant landscape, sweet scents of blooms, and cool wind tugging at his fur.

"I can see why you enjoy living in the moor," he murmured.

Feathershine nodded. "I know." She paused to taste the air. "It's the only home we'll ever truly belong in."

Oceanpelt darted down the slope. "Is it this way?"

Feathershine led him downhill to the lake, and showed him a clump of coltsfoot. Oceanpelt wrinkled up his nose. It was overly-sweet and made him want to sniff.

"The juice is excellent for sore throats and lungs. Here, let me show you how to pick some from the roots." Feathershine skilfully laid down her paws and began to nip the stalks of coltsfoot with her teeth.

Oceanpelt, relieved at such an easy task, ducked his head and followed her, feeling calmed by the sound of the lake in his ears. The sweet and succulent smell of herbs helped drown out the musky odors of the horseplace nearby, with its hard Twoleg walls and huge stomping animals.

His gaze unconsciously slid to RiverClan. He saw the lush territory full of life, and felt grateful that RiverClan, at least, had had a plenty season and was swelling with life after a pleasant greenleaf.

He sighed. He missed his friends, family and Clanmates there, but he knew he would be back soon.

He paused in his work. "Feathershine, I have a question," he told her. He fluffed out his fur smoothly and took a casual tone. "Why have WindClan not said anything about the harsh season they've had?" He hoped he hadn't offended her.

Feathershine plucked out some more stalks and spat them out, licking the dirt from her teeth. "Clans are proud," she answered. To Oceanpelt's relief, her fur didn't look ruffled. "Especially WindClan. We've had to deal with so much hardship in the past, yet we have always emerged strong. WindClan is good at surviving when the odds are stacked against them. What good would it do us to complain? Noble warriors suffer in silence."

Oceanpelt lashed his tail. "But you don't have to! That's just stupid. Why don't you just ask RiverClan for some fish at a Gathering or something? They have an abundance of it, so it wouldn't matter to them!"

For a moment, Feathershine looked surprised, but then she sighed. "Sometimes, as a medicine cat, I wonder that too. If the Clans can simply live in peace with no fighting or disputes of food or territories. But you and I know better. That's not how it works."

Feeling powerless, Oceanpelt silently got back to work. The coltsfoot seemed to cloud his brain until he couldn't think clearly.

Feathershine looked at him oddly. "By the way, how did you know about RiverClan and Gatherings? You sound like a Clan cat."

Oceanpelt felt worried. Oh no! I made a stupid mistake. Feathershine noticed it! "Oh, I was just passing a bit through RiverClan recently," he mewed coolly, thinking swiftly. Inside, his heart was thumbing. He lay in wait with baited breath, wishing hard that Feathershine wouldn't mention it again.

Feathershine blinked warmly at him. "It's okay. You can tell me the truth."

Oceanpelt's pelt grew hot and he sat up indignantly. "I already have," he answered simply, blood rushing through his ears.

Feathershine's paws scrabbled over the waterlogged earth, as she untangled the strips of foliage separately. "Well, if that's what you want," she answered. "But you can't fool me. Medicine cats know when a cat isn't telling the complete truth."

Oceanpelt tested his gaze in amazement. He was astounded. Was this what medicine cats could truly do? Walk the paths of the world with the knowledge of StarClan in their paws?

He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised. And now that Feathershine knew, he might as well tell her everything. His ears suddenly pricked up. Perhaps that that was what he should have done all along! Maybe he wasn't getting any signs from Rock because he was meant to speak to Feathershine instead. After all, she was an experienced medicine cat, and medicine cats were often confided to by StarClan. Maybe Feathershine was his only gateway into succeeding is mission. He gritted is teeth, mind racing excitedly. I have to succeed!

"Well, Feathershine," he began, mapping out the conversation inside his head. He may as well be tactful, so as to minimize the chance that he sounded completely crazy. "I suppose you're right, I wasn't telling you the whole truth. The thin is, you might not believe me, but here it is. I've actually been a part of RiverClan all my life, but a few days ago, I came across a strange cat that I had never seen before. He was completely unlike any I'd ever met, and I could feel a strange power coming from him. I then somehow ended up in WindClan, just like that!"

Feathershine pricked her ears. "Go on," she continued, intrigued. "What do you mean, you just ended up here?"

Oceanpelt sighed, completely forgetting about his task of picking stalks of coltsfoot. "You probably won't believe me, but I was sitting my warrior vigil when I saw a strange shadow on the Gathering island. I went to investigate and I found a blind, old cat who looked half-faded, like StarClan, but he didn't have stars glittering in his pelt. He said his name was Rock, and acted like I had a special task to succeed. Then the waters arose and drowned me, and I just woke up on the shores of WindClan."

Feathershine cocked her ears. "Rock, you say?"

Oceanpelt blinked. "Yes, Rock." He looked at her hopefully, his heart beating fast. "Have you heard of him?"

She shook her head. "No."

He looked away, disappointed. "I'm sure my story sounds like nonsense to you."

"No, it doesn't," Feathershine assured him. "Just because a dead cat does not walk in our skies doesn't mean that other skies don't exist. Do you know The Tribe of Rushing Water?"

Oceanpelt nodded. "Of course." Although he had never seen any cat from the Tribe, the Clans knew them well enough and remained on friendly terms. He knew that a few moons before he was born, some Clan cats had left to visit the Tribe in the mountains, and that it wasn't rare to sometimes see them about.

"Well, they don't have a StarClan," Feathershine mewed. "But when a warrior dies, they go to the Tribe of Endless Hunting instead. So of course I believe you, Oceanpelt."

Oceanpelt exhaled in relief. "Phew, thanks, Feathershine," he replied, twitching his tail. "It still doesn't solve my problem though. How come he isn't speaking to me? I don't know what to do."

He stared down at his chest, trying to stop himself from growling. His injury was bound tight by cobwebs, and he was afraid of it healing fast. What if Braodstar asked him to leave if he recovered too quickly? Cats were already angry with him for chasing a rabbit over the ThunderClan scent line.

"Signs sometimes come in the simplest of ways." Feathershine blinked. "Sometimes, you just have to be patient. Don't expect the mouse to just run into your paws."

Oceanpelt felt jolted by these words. They sounded familiar, just like a small worm slithering into his mind.

"I suppose." He nodded, trying to convince himself. "Rock said it was my destiny, so it must happen sooner or later. Until then, all I have to do is be patient." He flashed a grateful look at Feathershine. Taking to her had somehow made him calmer, and made him realize that everything was surely going to be alright.

His memory was suddenly jogged. "There was also a prophecy. Rock talked of three other cats, and he said some…strange words."

Feathershine sat bolt upright. Her fur shifted in the wind, feathery white like snow. She whipped her plumy tail. "A prophecy?" she echoed, her blue eyes wide. They were so intense, burning as they stared right through Oceanpelt. "A prophecy, did you say?"

Oceanpelt nodded, slightly nervously. "Is that bad?"

"Do you feel drawn toward becoming a medicine cat? tell me the truth."

Oceanpelt shrank back, alarmed. "No! My heart has always felt pulled towards the life of a warrior!" His reply was earnest.

Feathershine studied him with scrutiny flashing in her gaze. She spoke more gently. "I understand. It's just, warriors don't normally receive prophecies. It must be really important. Go on, tell me what the prophecy was."

Oceanpelt began to search his mind to find the memory of those words, and was surprised to find them whispered into his head. Snarling voices as crisp as ice broke through his skull.

"Revenge from the red ones will last until four cats meet to save the Clans." He blinked. "That's what he said. It really doesn't mean anything, though."

"Prophecies are never clear," Feathershine answered.

Oceanpelt flicked a look over his shoulder. "But then what's the point?" he replied, frustrated. "If you can only decipher them after they happen, then why would starClan send them in the first place?"

"Our warrior ancestors know what they are doing. You must trust in them. StarClan don't want to solve all of our problems like that and make a clear path that we must follow. They want to give us the freedom of choice. Sometimes cats need to make their own decisions."

Oceanpelt looked down. "I know, I know." He looked at the white medicine cat carefully. "I'm surprised. Do you believe me when I say I come from RiverClan?"

"You have the knowledge and experience of a Clan cat. The only other way you could have obtained that was if StarClan walked inside your soul and confided everything into your ears." Feathershine scratched out more scraggly coltsfoot leaves. "Either way, that means I can trust you."

Oceanpelt felt pleasantly surprised. "And yet, no-one seems to remember me, my face, or my scent. Why? I've show up at plenty of Gatherings."

Feathershine stared up a the sky. "I'm sure that's planned too. StarClan has a bright future in store for you, Oceanpelt."

The sky was stained orange at the tips like a glowing mountain on fire. The rest was dark and inky, a blended swirl of gray and blue. In the middle of their view rested a funnily-shaped cloud. Feathershine's eyes widened. "A sign!"

Oceanpelt snapped his gaze at hers. "StarClan has sent you a sign?"

Feathershine nodded, as if in a trance. Her eyes glittered with translucent light, reflecting the souls of the fallen warriors in StarClan. "The cloud––it's shaped like a flower bud from newleaf." She breathed, sending a puff of clouds into the cold air. "Their message is this: never give up hope."

Oceanpelt stared up at the cloud in the sky. And now, he felt ready to believe it. "From now on, I shall never give up hope!" he vowed, and hope truly did flare in his chest.