Chapter 11

"Brackenfur?" Tinyclaw spun around. "What are you doing here?" He narrowed his eyes at the medicine cat. "Did you know about this?"

Brackenfur's chin was lifted in defiance. A pile of herbs lay between his paws. "They needed my help," he declared. "There was nothing left for them in their camp but sickness and suffering. As a medicine cat, my StarClan-given duty is to help any cat in need."

"So they came straight back!" Tinyclaw huffed. Brackenfur's conviction was strong – Tinyclaw wouldn't be shocked if Brackenfur's conviction alone could pull a cat towards him. "Where did you find them?"

"Near Sunningrocks," Brackenfur replied. "They were looking for a place to shelter and hide. I scented them while out collecting herbs yesterday." His tone was even, unafraid.

Tinyclaw didn't like that. "So you brought them here?" he snorted. "They probably only came back onto our land because you would show pity on them!" Brackenfur had made his concern more than obvious when the ShadowClan cats had visited the camp. How could he have exposed the Clan – and himself – to such a risk? "Did you think you could treat them before anyone found out?"

Brackenfur was undaunted. "You're not truly upset with me," he stated. "Hard as you pretend to be, you pity them as much as I do. You couldn't have turned them away again."

Tinyclaw worked his jaw. Brackenfur truly thought he was doing the right thing here – that was certain. And Tinyclaw couldn't deny the truth in the medicine cat's words. He felt sorry for the ShadowClan cats and their illness, and increasingly more worried for Tigerstar's lack of compassion. Even as he tried to be angry, he found that it was too hard to force. "Does Yellowfang know?" he wondered.

Brackenfur frowned. "I don't think so," he replied. "I've tried to keep my excursions out here quick."

"How sick are they?"

"They're beginning to recover," Brackenfur replied. A small hint of satisfaction was in his voice.

"I still smell it," Tinyclaw remarked. "Like a badger's dirt."

"Of course the stench will linger," Brackenfur scoffed. "Sickness does that. They're not completely cured yet. Just look at them! Don't they look healthier?"

"We are getting better, thanks to Brackenfur," Littlecloud meowed behind Tinyclaw. The tom's voice had tremors, but it sounded much stronger.

Tinyclaw turned. Behind him the two ShadowClan cats had crept out of their hole a little. Already, Tinyclaw could see that their eyes were brighter, and their breathing didn't sound as ragged. They even looked more well-rested.

"They do seem to be recovering," Tinyclaw agreed. Looking back to Brackenfur, he asked, "But how? Yellowfang said that this sickness couldn't be cured."

Brackenfur frowned. "Yellowfang knows a lot, but she doesn't know every combination of herb and berry in the forest. I must have gotten lucky and found the right mixture." He sounded just as serious as always, not even a hint of pride in his tone for what he'd accomplished.

"It was well done, then," Tinyclaw offered. He was glad Brackenfur had found a cure for ShadowClan's strange sickness. Tigerstar would be relieved to hear it – were he the same cat he had been before. It wouldn't be safe to tell him about this, even if Brackenfur had cured them already. Tigerstar's judgment was clouded by any threat of impending attack.

They can't be hidden forever, Tinyclaw thought with a frown. Eventually, some patrol would happen upon them. Tigerstar would order them chased off, or killed, and all of Brackenfur's hard work would be for nothing. "I'm sorry, Brackenfur," Tinyclaw meowed, "but they need to go. It's not safe here."

Brackenfur shook his head. "They're still too sick to leave. I may be able to heal them, but they haven't eaten properly for days – they wouldn't make it." He lifted his leg for emphasis.

"Then I'll catch them something now," Tinyclaw decided. He recalled the last time he had hunted for these cats, and grimaced. "If they can keep it down it ought to give them enough strength to get home."

"But what about when w-we get there?" Whitethroat wondered, trembling.

Tinyclaw frowned. He couldn't answer that. As much as he didn't want to send them back, he couldn't risk letting their sickness spread throughout ThunderClan territory. If someone in ThunderClan fell ill, it would be disastrous. And what if ShadowClan came looking for them? "I am sorry," he said again. "I'll feed you, but then you must go."

"Please!" Littlecloud's voice was high-pitched, almost a wail. "Don't send us back! Nightstar is so weak… this sickness takes a new life from him every day! Most of the Clan thinks he will die."

"Surely he has the lives to spare," Tinyclaw reasoned.

"You haven't seen how ill he is!" Whitethroat insisted. "The whole Clan is frightened; there's no cat who can take his place!"

"What of Cinderfur, your deputy?" Tinyclaw countered. Littlecloud and Whitethroat looked away and did not answer. Tinyclaw's stomach twisted. That had to mean that Cinderfur was dead, and Nightstar was too weak to name a replacement. ShadowClan was truly in chaos, as if Brokentail had returned to lead them once more. Tinyclaw could feel his sympathy winning over his own better judgment. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "You can stay here until you're well enough to travel."

"Thank you, Tinyclaw," Littlecloud breathed, his eyes glittering with gratitude. Whitethroat echoed him, huddled up against his friend. Tinyclaw swallowed, then dipped his head. ShadowClan cats were prickly proud from birth – this dependence must have been hard for them to admit.

Tinyclaw padded past Brackenfur, only to be stopped by a nudge from the larger tom. Brackenfur's whiskers flitted against Tinyclaw's ear: "Thank you," he murmured softly. "StarClan told me you would be understanding… just as they told me of this task of mine. By StarClan's will, I will not let them die."

Brackenfur's eyes brimmed with compassion. "So StarClan told you about this, did they?" Tinyclaw surmised quietly. That explained Brackenfur's protest when Yellowfang refused to treat the ShadowClan cats before. He nodded and decided, "You are a true medicine cat, Brackenfur. Yellowfang – and StarClan – chose well."

This part of the forest was rich and lush with prey – it didn't take long for Tinyclaw to find a thrust and a large rabbit for the ShadowClan warriors. Both had been easy catches, but Tinyclaw had been careful not to cross over into RiverClan territory despite the temptation of a water vole.

Brackenfur was mixing herbs when Tinyclaw retuned, mashing berries into a pulp of leaves Tinyclaw couldn't identify any more. Tinyclaw only laid the prey out before the ShadowClan's cat's shelter, too wary of getting close to the sickness. He pushed it until it tumbled down the slope and into the cave, and he shuddered.

Tinyclaw glanced at Brackenfur. Surely the medicine cat had entered the cave many times – and suddenly Tinyclaw was filled with worry. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

Brackenfur didn't look up from the mixture. "Yes, I am," he meowed. He said nothing more on the topic, but he added, "I am glad someone else knows. Keeping this sort of thing a secret from the Clan was beginning to bother me."

Tinyclaw flicked his tail. "We ought to keep this to ourselves," he told Brackenfur.

Brackenfur frowned. "Aren't you going to tell Tigerstar?" he wondered.

"Normally, I would, but…" Tinyclaw trailed off.

"But he's still not over the Bluefur incident," Brackenfur finished. "I understand."

"Sometimes I think he's getting better," Tinyclaw assured him. "Sometimes it feels like he's back to his old self – but then he'll say something, or think for too long, or he'll see something and… he'll be right back to square one."

Brackenfur glanced at Tinyclaw sympathetically. "Yellowfang described that sort of illness to me before – something that can't be cured with herbs, only time. Eventually, Tigerstar will recover," he meowed.

"So she's noticed, too," Tinyclaw sighed.

"To be honest, Tinyclaw," Brackenfur meowed sympathetically, "most of the Clan has."

Tinyclaw swallowed. "W-What are they saying?" he asked. He didn't know if he wanted the answer.

"Tigerstar has been a great leader for a long time," Brackenfur said simply. "They all seem to be waiting for him to be like that again." Tinyclaw felt a little soothed by that. The Clan's faith was powerful, it seemed. At least it seemed to be holding. Of course Tigerstar would get better. He had to.

"Will you come back with me?" Tinyclaw wondered.

Brackenfur's paws were still working the mixture. "I'll need to finish up here," he said.

Tinyclaw nodded in understanding, but he felt strange as he walked away. Leaving Brackenfur alone with two ShadowClan warriors and a stench that made his fur want to crawl off his skin was not a comforting thought. Did I do the right thing, letting them stay?

Outside of the camp, Tinyclaw gave himself a thorough wash. He hadn't rolled in the ShadowClan cat's den, but he knew there was a faint smell lingering on his fur. He screwed his face up at the taste – but washing it out was no option, not unless he wanted to go to the river. The nearest stream had dried up days ago. I'll find Graystripe another day, I guess. He couldn't be gone from camp for long.

Sandstorm met him as he entered camp. "Been hunting?" she asked, her eyes flashing over him.

"Looking for Graystripe, honestly," Tinyclaw sighed. He had no prey, and he didn't feel like lying to Sandstorm. It was the easiest part of the truth, anyway.

"Then I suppose you haven't seen Cloudpaw?" Sandstorm guessed. She didn't seem concerned by Tinyclaw's admission.

"She's not here?"

"She went out hunting first thing this morning, but hasn't been back since," Sandstorm replied.

Looking into her eyes and finding little worry, Tinyclaw knew she suspected the same thing he did – that Cloudpaw was with Twolegs again. "What should I do?" he whispered.

"Let's go get her together," Sandstorm offered. "Maybe if I talk to her, we can make her see sense."

"It's worth a shot," Tinyclaw agreed. Something was better than anything at this point.

Together they slipped through the tunnel and out into the forest. Tinyclaw led the way through Tallpines, padding light over the hard ground. The air was still, with little activity but the needles that the cats occasionally kicked up with their paws. This trail was more familiar to Tinyclaw as a route to Fourtrees or Sunningrocks – but Sandstorm was cautious, sniffing every now and again and moving lithely.

Tinyclaw sensed Sandstorm's anxiety building as they exited the cover of the pine woods and padded out into the open. Here, Twoleg nests lined up in a neat row for as far as their eyes could see, even when trees closed the gap between this field and the Thunderpath.

"Are you sure she came this way?" Sandstorm wondered. Her tone jumped as a dog barked in one of the far-off nests. Her hackles were bristling.

"It's all right," Tinyclaw assured her, "the dogs don't leave their gardens." He felt a prickle of discomfort at his knowledge. Sandstorm had been one of the foremost cats to tease him when he first came to the forest. Kittypet this, kittypet that – now that it had stopped, Tinyclaw was very reluctant to remind her where he came from.

"Don't Twolegs bring their dogs out here?" she wondered.

"Sometimes," Tinyclaw admitted. "But you'll hear them and smell them long before you see them. They're not exactly very subtle." His humor did not help her relax.

Tinyclaw sniffed. Cloudpaw's scent drifted strongly over the smells of the Twolegplace. "Cloudpaw's scent is here," he meowed. "Come on."

Sandstorm followed him. Tinyclaw gave the nests as wide a berth as he could manage, skirting around Fiona's nest completely – there was no way Fiona was meeting Sandstorm right now. Not like this. Even lengths away from the nests, Sandstorm seemed uncomfortable, but she stayed with Tinyclaw. Cloudpaw's scent followed the exact same path as it had before, and before that, and before that – to the birch, and over the fence.

Tinyclaw led the way up the birch. Sandstorm followed smoothly, settling on a branch nearby with twitching whiskers. Tinyclaw gripped his branch, searching the Twoleg's yard for signs of Cloudpaw.

There was nothing but scent. The nest was quiet, and Tinyclaw narrowed his eyes through the window. It was dark. His heart thudded in his ears, and his tail fluffed.

"What is it?" Sandstorm wondered.

"Something's wrong," Tinyclaw insisted. "The nest is -" He jumped as a loud thunderclap of a door slamming shut interrupted him. "Empty!" he finished.

He leaped down. Sandstorm followed. Tinyclaw didn't dare tell her to stay put – and she wouldn't even if he begged. He began padding towards the door – but a sudden rumbling pierced the air. A monster was starting up. Tinyclaw felt his heart leap to his ears. He sped along the garden, skirting through a passageway between the nest and the fence.

The Twolegplace buzzed in its entirety before him – but his eyes were all for the monster rumbling on a tiny stone path across the front yard. He could see Twolegs shuffling about inside, and as he watched, another left the house's front door and began heading for the monster. In one hand dangled a mesh-like cage, seemingly made from interlocking twigs of metal.

Inside was Cloudpaw.