Warriors: The New Prophecy #5: Twilight by Erin Hunter

Author:Erin Hunter [Hunter, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

The day was nearly over when the two cats returned to the RiverClan camp. The setting sun was a sullen red glow behind bars of cloud. Leafpool had hardly noticed time passing; it seemed no more than a few heartbeats since Mosspelt had dashed into the stone hollow.

At least the camp was quiet; no eerie wailing signaled another death. Most cats were settling into their dens for the night, although two or three still crouched beside the fresh-kill pile.

“That reminds me,” Leafpool meowed. “It would be a good idea to go through the fresh-kill pile and throw out anything with that scent on it.”

Mistyfoot nodded. “I’ll check the camp, too, in case any cat has brought that stuff in on their paws. And every cat should check themselves, and wash off the scent downstream if they have it.”

She headed toward Leopardstar’s den to report to her leader. Leafpool watched her go, then she slipped over the top of the bank and down to where Mothwing stooped over the sick cats.

“How’s it going?” she asked, joining the RiverClan medicine cat who was examining Dawnflower.

“Okay, I think. No cat has died, though Heavystep has fallen ill.” She pointed with her tail to where the big tabby elder was curled up on the bank. “I’ve given him yarrow, and he doesn’t seem as bad as some of the others.”

Leafpool remembered that Heavystep was one of the cats who had been carrying out the dead cat when she arrived. Perhaps he had picked up the poison that way. Hawkfrost had been with him, but he seemed fine, and he knew now that he had to be careful not to get the sticky Twoleg stuff on his fur.

“We found what the problem is,” Leafpool told Mothwing. She described the shiny Twoleg thing and the greenish liquid that was seeping out from it.

Mothwing shuddered. “So it was Twolegs who brought the trouble!” Her blue gaze locked with Leafpool’s. Then she flicked her tail. “Come and check the cats.”

Leafpool had hardly begun to sniff Dawnflower when she glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye. A kit was standing at the other end of the line of sick cats; in the twilight Leafpool could only just make out her grayish-white pelt. At first she thought she must be one of Dawnflower’s litter making a spectacular recovery, but this kit was older, and she didn’t look ill at all.

“Mothwing, over here!” the kit called urgently.

“Who’s that?” Leafpool asked, following Mothwing as she began to pick her way around the sleeping bodies.

“Willowkit,” Mothwing replied; her eyes glowed with affection as she reached the pale gray kit and looked down at her. “Mosspelt’s daughter. She often comes to help me, and she already knows nearly all the herbs. Willowkit, this is Leafpool from ThunderClan.”

Willowkit dipped her head. “Mothwing, I think you ought to look at Beechpaw,” she urged.

The apprentice was lying on his side, his limbs splayed out, his claws scraping feebly at the ground. His chest heaved and he was struggling to breathe.

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