Chapter 4

Mistyfoot woke the next morning to a cool droplet landing on her nose. She lifted her head, shaking it off with a twitch of her whiskers. Looking up, she could see through the gaps in the den walls that the sky above was pale gray. Without full foliage and the damage done by WindClan's invasion, the intertwined branches did little to stop the light newleaf sprinkle from falling onto the warriors.

Thankfully, the only other warrior in the den was Spiderfang, whose vigil had ended not long ago. She lay in her new nest near the entrance, her side rising and falling. Even in her sleep, she couldn't sit still - her paws twitched, probably chasing imaginary prey. Mistyfoot prayed that Spiderfang's dreams were more comforting than her own.

When Mistyfoot pulled herself out of the den, the air smelled fresh and bright with the turn of the season. Above the hollow, Mistyfoot could see leaves beginning to unfurl from their buds - it wouldn't be long until the lake had fully recovered from the long, hard leafbare.

She stretched, hiding a grimace as the space between her shoulders smarted. She could easily pass it off as a stubborn injury from the battle or that she had slept on a stone. She knew, however, that the soreness was from Bluestar, who had dropped onto her back from a tree in her dreams last night.

An attack can come from anywhere, she had said, before aiming a swipe at her daughter's cheek.

Mistyfoot's pelt rippled. It made her uneasy that the injuries she sustained in those dreams followed her into the waking world. How many times could she lie about a thorn in her moss before some cat - or worse, Nightfrost - figured she was lying? Discomfort prickled at her pelt, and Mistyfoot gave her chest fur a few quick licks to stamp it down. There was work to be done.

It didn't take long to organize patrols. Other than keeping Sun in camp for Sorreltail's sake, Mistyfoot had little difficulty with them - that is until Larchpaw sneezed from the back of the crowd.

Mistyfoot stared at the apprentice. A few days before the battle, Larchpaw had come down with a cold that had sent Shadepool and Nightfrost all around the lake to look for catmint from the other Clans. He'd been treated with catmint gotten from RiverClan, but it troubled Mistyfoot that he was still sneezing even now - had his cold lingered on, somehow?

She might've sent him on patrol regardless - she, too, often sneezed in newleaf - but she saw his nose streaming. "Go and see Brackenfur about that," Mistyfoot decided, nodding to Larchpaw. "You'll stay in camp today, just in case."

Through a sniffle, Larchpaw nodded in understanding - but Ashfur did not like that. His neck fur bristled, and he insisted, his eyes narrowing, "He's fine - it's just a sneeze!"

"And if that's all it is, good," Mistyfoot returned, forcing down the urge to snap at him over what he had said the day before, "But I don't want to take the risk that it's whitecough. Not when it's this wet and chilly out. If Brackenfur says he's okay, then-"

Ashfur lashed his tail, whipping it so hard that it almost slapped Whitewing in the face. "Larchpaw has already missed a lot of important training," he growled. "Do you want him to fall behind?"

Mistyfoot stared at Ashfur, incredulous. "Of course not!" she burst. Was Ashfur destined to find fault in anything she did? Struggling to keep an even tone, she meowed on, "If you'd let me finish, I was going to say that if he's feeling better in the evening when the sun is out, he can go out for some training!" She lashed her own tail, and in a sharp voice, she mewed, "In the meantime, Ashfur, join Snowstep's hunting patrol!"

Ashfur's glare was intense, and Mistyfoot waited for some sort of snappy remark, but it seemed that Ashfur was conscious of the senior warriors eyeing him. He chose to shut his jaws rather than make himself look even more unreasonable.

"What about the traps?" asked Cinderpelt. Her expression was impassive, unbothered by Ashfur's tantrum. "Have you and Tinystar come up with a plan?"

Mistyfoot frowned. "Nothing's confirmed yet," she admitted, "so for now, please watch for them on your patrols. Mark them if you see them, and take care if you're treading on any fox trails."

"And if we do manage to set one off?" wondered Rainwhisker, his gaze glittering worriedly.

"No cat is going out alone, so send someone to find me or Mousefur," Mistyfoot explained. "I'm no medicine cat, but your injuries should be mild if you don't struggle."

She thought of little Berry and his blood-plastered flanks and hoped that was true. The snare had gripped his tail so tight! The other warriors looked a little annoyed at the thought of tiptoeing through their own territory, but thankfully, even Ashfur kept his mouth shut.

I'll have to organize patrols to find and disarm the traps as soon as possible, she told herself. Not in the rain, though... She would have to work with Tinystar to figure out the best cats for the job. She already had Cloudtail and Dustpelt on the top of her list for their sharp nose and nimble paws, respectively.

"I wonder if ShadowClan has to deal with the traps, too," mused Swiftfoot. "The forest does extend into their territory."

Beside him, Whitewing remarked, "Yeah, maybe that's why they've been so strange lately..."

That was another problem. Mistyfoot hadn't forgotten Nightfrost's report about the weakness of the ShadowClan border. The Gathering was still many days away, though, and ThunderClan needed her full attention now. Even if she were worried about her brother's safety, it would have to wait until the full moon unless another opportunity presented itself.

"You're all dismissed," Mistyfoot told the warriors, waving her tail.

They dispersed, the assigned patrols gathering up and heading out. As ordered, Larchpaw headed for the medicine cat cave, and Ashfur looked sulky as he followed Snowstep out of camp. Mistyfoot prayed to StarClan that her warriors encountered no difficulties and hoped they wouldn't get caught in any of those traps on their way.

Of all the warriors, Ferncloud lingered behind. "Thank you for keeping Larchpaw in camp," mewed the queen. Her pale green eyes glittered with gratitude. "He's been trying to act so bravely since the battle, but I can tell he's not been able to get enough rest to recover."

"It's no problem," Mistyfoot assured her.

Ferncloud gave her a soft smile, and she added, "And I'm sorry about Ashfur. He's always been so mean to you, and you've never deserved it. I always thought you would make a great deputy."

Mistyfoot blinked in surprise. She and Ferncloud had been close in their apprentice days, but they had drifted somewhat when Ferncloud and Snowstep became mates so quickly after getting their warrior names. Mistyfoot had always worried that Ashfur had had something to do with it, too - perhaps that hadn't been the case.

"Thank you," Mistyfoot managed to say, touched. "That means a lot."

Ferncloud sighed, turning her muzzle over to watch her son pad into the medicine cat cave. "I just wish those nasty traps weren't here," she murmured worriedly. "And whoever killed Onewhisker and Barkface is still out there..." She shuddered. "The old forest never had anything like that."

Mistyfoot grimaced. It's been hard enough getting some of the older cats to accept the lake as their new home, she thought, a pang in her heart, but with everything that's happened since we got here, it must feel like we've walked into a badger's den.

Mistyfoot had to steady herself. Ferncloud, like every other warrior, trusted her to make the decisions that would keep them safe.

And that's what I'll do.

Always.

The rain eased up before sunhigh, and bright newleaf sunshine quickly warmed the world from between trailing clouds. Birdsong was in the air, and insects began to stir from their hidden homes.

Mistyfoot washed her face, having just polished off her breakfast. She might've liked to share a meal with Nightfrost or even Ferncloud or Mousefur, but they had both been assigned to patrols, and she had been starving. With her shoulder still smarting, Mistyfoot had saved herself for afternoon duties to go easy on it, so until then, she was free.

Perhaps I should check on Sorreltail, Mistyfoot wondered. She glanced toward the nursery, where she could see Sorreltail's wide flank rising and falling from between the gnarled roots of the fallen tree. See how she's getting on with-

"Don't you dare touch him!"

The shriek split the air like a claw, a voice that Mistyfoot couldn't place. Bristling from head to toe and ears ringing from the cry, she locked eyes with the other warriors left in camp - Dustpelt, Sun, and Longtail were all on their paws, alert and awake, and even Larchpaw poked his pale muzzle out from the apprentice's den - but they were each just as puzzled as Mistyfoot was because the clearing was empty.

"What is that racket?" groaned a voice from the Highledge. Tinystar emerged from his den, a feather from his meal on his chin. He pushed it off with one paw and looked down at the camp, his gaze searching for danger.

"Leave him alone!" came another peal of horror. "Stop it!"

Mistyfoot's ears pricked. That was coming from the medicine cat's cave!

She was on her paws in an instant, crossing the clearing as quickly as she could. When she forced her way through the draping ivy and into the dimly lit cavern, another wordless yowl nearly knocked her off her paws - but the source was plainly evident:

Daisy.

The cream-colored queen had planted herself firmly between Berry's nest and the medicine cats, both of whom looked agitated. Daisy's back was bent into a huge arch, and she was fluffed from ears to toes, looking less like a threatening wall of danger and more like an angry cloud.

"What is going on here?!" Mistyfoot demanded. She sensed Tinystar and Dustpelt come in just behind her, both of whom relaxed their tensed muscles when they realized what was happening.

Daisy locked eyes with Mistyfoot. "They want to take my little Berry's tail off!" she wailed, her voice reverberating off of the cave walls. "Tell them that they can't do that!"

Mistyfoot winced. It felt like ten Daisys were screaming at her. Berry must be on a dozen poppy seeds to stay asleep through this! She glanced at Tinystar, who looked equally exasperated, and beside him, Dustpelt had his lip curled over his teeth. Great StarClan, if the hunting patrols come back with nothing, we'll know why!

Shadepool explained, with patience that was not reflected in the flexing of her claws, "We tried everything we could to save it, but the snare did too much damage to the bone and muscle. He doesn't even feel anything from it anymore!"

Brackenfur was not so charitable: "Unless she wants her kitten to drag around a useless piece of fur that courts infection for the rest of his life, we must amputate it now."

The old medicine cat's tone was incredibly harsh. Mistyfoot understood why - Brackenfur himself had an injury that limited his movement. Because escaping from the battle with WindClan had aggravated it, he could barely leave his own den, let alone the camp.

Daisy bared her teeth. "I won't let you touch him!" she insisted, showing her claws as well. "Not my Berry's beautiful tail!"

Dustpelt hissed under his breath, "Kittypets!"

"Daisy," Tinystar reasoned, stepping closer to the queen, "I understand your worries, but you must listen to Brackenfur and Shadepool - it's for Berry's safety."

"What do they know about Berry's safety?" Daisy demanded.

"These two are our medicine cats," Mistyfoot defended. It took all she had not to growl in frustration. "They've been trained to heal our injuries. Daisy, they know what they're talking about."

Daisy sputtered, protesting, "A vet wouldn't-"

"A Twoleg vet would draw the same conclusion," Tinystar assured her, his voice firm.

"He's right," Shadepool agreed, softening her tone. "It's what's best for Berry, Daisy. If he keeps his tail, it could get so infected that it could kill him - is that what you want to risk?"

Daisy made a horribly sad noise in her throat, looking like she had been struck. Mistyfoot felt a pang of sympathy for the queen's position - here she was, with an injured kit among unfamiliar cats, and now she was being told her kit needed to be hurt more to survive.

"He'll be no less of a cat," Dustpelt grunted. "Plenty of warriors lose their tails and live perfectly normal lives - my father was one of them."

"And doing this now, while he's still young, will give him a better chance to compensate for it when he's older," Shadepool urged. She took a step towards Daisy and pressed, "Please, Daisy. Let us help your son!"

"The pain of this now will not compare to the pain he will feel should it remain undone," Brackenfur added, his tone softening, though he still looked at Daisy as if she were a mouse-brain.

Daisy's gaze flickered between each cat in the cave. Mistyfoot saw her flanks rise and fall rapidly and guessed she was overwhelmed by the decision in front of her.

But finally, Daisy unbent her spine and relented. "Okay," she mewed, her tone quiet and small compared to her earlier shrieking. Her eyes were pools of misery. "Do it."

"Thank you, Daisy," Shadepool murmured. "You don't have to watch if-"

"I'm not leaving him," Daisy insisted. She backed into Berry's nest and wrapped herself around her son, curling her tail tight over the kit's body to expose his tail but to keep him from seeing it should he awaken.

"That's settled, then," Tinystar decided. He flicked his tail at Mistyfoot and Dustpelt and meowed, "Let's go. Brackenfur and Shadepool have it from here."

The three of them padded out of the den and into the sunlight. Outside, Longtail and Sun were on high alert - but when Tinystar dipped his head, they relaxed, Sun nudging Longtail to pass on the signal. Mistyfoot did not miss the irritated flick of Longtail's striped tail. Sun ducked back into the nursery, likely to comfort Sorreltail and Daisy's other kittens. Larchpaw crossed the camp to get some fresh-kill. None of them demanded an explanation - what had happened would be all over camp soon enough.

"She's not cut out for this life, Tinystar," Dustpelt meowed gruffly as soon as they passed the ivy that screened the cave entrance. His shoulder twitched. "Some loners and kittypets are - but her? She wouldn't last a day out there for real."

Tinystar blinked evenly at the dark tabby tom, and Mistyfoot braced herself for his response. Having been born a kittypet, Tinystar had struggled to fit into warrior life, and Dustpelt had once been one of his greatest detractors.

Yet Tinystar did not seem to take this as an insult: "You're right," he admitted, "some aren't suited to this life, and perhaps she isn't - but I'm giving Daisy the choice regardless." There was an intensity in his ice-blue eyes. "I won't deny any cat a choice."

Mistyfoot glanced at Dustpelt, who didn't seem as intimidated by Tinystar's gaze as others would've been.

"This isn't even the worst we face," Dustpelt reasoned, "and half the forest heard her reaction to hearing a medicine cat's bad news."

"She's a mother," Tinystar pointed out. "You're telling me, honestly, that Cinderpelt might not do the same?"

Dustpelt's whiskers twitched, and Cinderpelt's cries of grief for Shrewpaw echoed in Mistyfoot's head. In her mind's eye, she saw the strong gray she-cat laid over her son's prone body, begging and pleading for Brackenfur to make him live again.

Sympathy stabbed at Mistyfoot's heart. Being a mother isn't easy, she reflected. She thought of her own mother and wondered if Bluestar had ever grieved that way. It was a difficult question, as she had never seen so much as a flicker of emotion on Bluestar's face.

"In the end, it's her choice," Tinystar went on, "and I know you might not see it yet, but there is a warrior in Daisy. Perhaps it's just not the one you're thinking of."

Dustpelt snorted. "We'll see."