Spottedpaw raced through the trees, flinching as brambles whipped her muzzle. Her foreleg felt as if it were on fire but she knew she couldn’t slow her pace or something terrible would happen. As she skidded past Snakerocks, she glanced down to see if the fox was still there. Yes, the creature was still clinging on, its jaws locked around her leg, the wound sending flames of agony shooting up to her shoulder. Spottedpaw wasn’t quite sure how she was able to go so fast and drag the fox along with her, but the weight of the creature didn’t seem to slow her down. However quickly she ran, she couldn’t dislodge the thorn-sharp teeth that sank deep into her flesh…

“Spottedpaw? Spottedpaw, wake up! You’re having a bad dream!”

Spottedpaw blinked open her eyes to see Featherwhisker bending over her, his pale face creased with concern. “If you don’t stop thrashing about, you won’t have a nest left!” he mewed, straightening the shredded moss.

Spottedpaw tried to sit up and let out a yelp as her shoulder burned with pain. “Ow!” She flopped back and licked her stinging fur. She noticed that Goosefeather’s nest was empty, and she felt a twinge of guilt. Had she driven him away with her troubled dreams?

Featherwhisker traced her leg with one paw. “I’m not surprised it’s sore. You gave it a nasty wrench. Leave the trees to squirrels from now on!”

“But I have to get back to my training!” Spottedpaw wailed. “What if Thrushpelt gets another apprentice?”

The medicine cat rested his tail on her flank. “Stop panicking. Thrushpelt will wait for you to get better. You’ve only been here for three sunrises.”

“But that’s too long,” Spottedpaw fretted. “I’m not learning anything! Can’t I start walking today?”

“Not when you’re in this much pain,” Featherwhisker meowed. “But if you’re really bored, I can find something for you to do.”

“Like what?” Spottedpaw mewed suspiciously. “I’m not squeezing any dead mice to get out the bile!”

Featherwhisker purred with amusement. “Don’t worry. I save that particular task for naughty apprentices! You could sort these herbs for me, though. Rosetail gathered tansy and marigold for me yesterday, but she let the leaves get muddled up, and I need to store them separately.” He nudged a heap of strong-smelling greenery toward Spottedpaw. Her nose twitched and she leaned over the edge of her nest to study them more closely.

“Which one’s which?” she asked.

Featherwhisker tugged out two stalks with a flick of his paw. “Tansy is the one with the smaller, feathery, pale green leaves, see? Marigold leaves are a similar shape, but bigger and a darker shade of green.”

Spottedpaw nodded. She wriggled carefully onto her belly, leaving her injured foreleg cushioned on the moss.

“They smell totally different,” she commented. “That’s the easiest way to tell them apart.”

Featherwhisker nodded. “Exactly.” He was rolling dock leaves into tight wraps and stacking them neatly against one wall of his den. “Do you know what we use those herbs for?”

Spottedpaw paused to untangle some stalks that were knotted together. “You gave tansy to Whitepaw when he had a bellyache from eating too much mouse,” she recalled. “But I’ve never seen you use marigold.”

“Actually, you have,” Featherwhisker corrected her. “Do you remember when Frostpaw got scratched in her eye by that stick?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Spottedpaw burst out. “I was just trying to see if it was long enough to reach Weedwhisker. Frostpaw ran into it without looking!”

Featherwhisker snorted. “I’m not sure poking Weedwhisker while he was trying to sleep was the best idea in the first place, Spottedpaw. Anyway, I used a poultice of marigold to clean Frostpaw’s eye and keep away any infection.”

“Infection is when a wound smells bad and doesn’t heal, isn’t it?” Spottedpaw checked.

“That’s right. I go through a lot of marigold at this time of year, when leaves hide the brambles and warriors are more likely to get scratched. It’s best to use fresh leaves, but dried ones can make a good enough poultice if you add water.”

Spottedpaw puzzled over two very similar-looking stalks for a moment, then decided that one was a small piece of marigold and the other was definitely tansy. “It’s amazing to think that one little leaf can do so much,” she mewed. “I wonder how the first cats found out?”

“We have been blessed with some truly gifted medicine cats,” Featherwhisker replied. “StarClan guided their paws and helped them to a store of knowledge that is so vast, I feel as if I have only glimpsed one little corner of it.”

“But you know what all the herbs do, don’t you?”

“All of the herbs that are found in ThunderClan territory, yes. But there are plants in other territories that are unfamiliar to me, which is why the medicine cats meet at each half-moon, to share any new discoveries and see if we can help with illnesses and injuries in the other Clans.”

“Wow,” breathed Spottedpaw. “Do you feel like StarClan? I mean, you have power over life and death!”

Featherwhisker twitched his ears. “Not as much as I’d like to, little one. We all lose cats that we have tried our hardest to save.”

Spottedpaw flicked the last leaf onto the tansy pile and sat back in her nest. “Finished! Can I do something else now?”

The medicine cat looked around the narrow cave. “You could roll the rest of these dock leaves for me while I prepare a poultice for Mumblefoot’s tick bite.”

“Okay!” Spottedpaw leaned out of her nest and dragged the big shiny leaves toward her. It was a bit tricky to roll them up with one paw, but she figured out how to use her chin to keep the leaf tightly tucked in. On the other side of the den, Featherwhisker started chewing up some sharp-scented dark green leaves.

“Medicine cats have to heal any cat, don’t they?” Spottedpaw mewed, her voice muffled because she was holding a dock leaf under her chin.

Featherwhisker spat out a clump of soggy greenery. “Well, our code only says that we must help kits from any Clan, but I don’t know any medicine cat who would ignore a full-grown cat who was sick or injured.”

“What about other animals?” asked Spottedpaw as she reached for the next leaf. “Would you help a mouse, or a bird?”

The silver cat purred with amusement. “Do you think I should try to resuscitate the fresh-kill pile? Warriors are trained to kill cleanly so that our prey doesn’t suffer. We have to eat to survive; a medicine cat would not be helping his Clan if he tried to revive their fresh-kill.”

“What about a fox, then? Or a badger?”

“Animals that treat us as prey can take care of themselves,” Featherwhisker meowed firmly. “Have you finished rolling those leaves? You should have a rest.”

Spottedpaw snuggled back into her nest. It was lined with thrush feathers, which reminded her of how Thistleclaw had gotten into trouble for giving her and Whitepaw feathers to play with. She wondered if Thistleclaw was worried about her. She didn’t want him to blame himself because she fell out of that stupid tree.

“Hello? Are you receiving visitors?” A dark red face poked through the ferns.

Spottedpaw lifted her head. “Poppydawn! Of course, come in.”

Willowpaw bounced behind her mentor, hardly visible behind a large young thrush. She dropped it on the ground beside Spottedpaw’s nest. “I caught this for you!”

“Wow! Thanks, Willowpaw!” Spottedpaw leaned out to sniff the fresh-kill. Her shoulder brushed against the edge of the nest and she winced.

Willowpaw looked worried. “Does it still hurt?”

Spottedpaw nodded.

“When will you be able to start training again?” Willowpaw asked.

Featherwhisker padded over and rolled the thrush to the side of the den. “She needs a few more days off her paws.”

“She’s very young to suffer an injury like this,” meowed Poppydawn. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“Excuse me, I am right here!” Spottedpaw butted in. “I’m going to be fine, aren’t I, Featherwhisker?”

Featherwhisker was taking care to tuck the thrush out of the way. “We’ll see,” he mewed without looking up.

Spottedpaw felt a flare of terror in her belly. Would her stupid accident prevent her from becoming a warrior? I wish I’d never climbed that tree!

After two more days, Spottedpaw no longer dreamed that her leg was being eaten by a fox, or woke in pain if she rolled over in her nest. When Featherwhisker left to fetch more marigold for Mumblefoot’s tick bite, which was stubbornly refusing to heal, Spottedpaw decided to test how far she could walk. She’d been making her dirt in holes behind Featherwhisker’s den but she was determined to go all the way outside the camp this time. Goosefeather had gone out, muttering about finding peace and quiet with the elders, so the medicine den was empty.

Gritting her teeth, Spottedpaw limped through the ferns and hobbled across the clearing. At first her paw throbbed when it touched the ground, but after several steps the pain became easier to bear and she found a way of rolling along that was almost comfortable.

“Hey! You’re up!” Redpaw bounded over to her, his tail sticking straight up. He licked Spottedpaw’s cheek, which almost unbalanced her.

“Careful!” she warned.

Swiftbreeze jumped up from where she had been basking outside the warriors’ den. “Did Featherwhisker say you could leave your nest?” she fretted. “Where is he?” She looked around for the medicine cat.

“He’s gathering herbs,” Spottedpaw admitted. “But look! I’m fine!” She wobbled triumphantly in a small circle.

Sunstar entered the clearing at the head of a patrol. “Ah, good to see you back on your paws, Spottedpaw! We’ve missed you!”

Spottedpaw glowed with pleasure. Even the Clan leader wanted her to be training! “I’m feeling much better,” she mewed. “I’ll be able to go back to my duties tomorrow, I think.”

“Not so fast,” Sunstar purred. “Make sure you’re completely healed first.”

The rest of Sunstar’s patrol spilled through the gorse tunnel. Tigerpaw roared in at top speed, then skidded to a halt by the fresh-kill pile. “I’m starving!” he declared. “Chasing off those kittypets was hard work, I can tell you!”

“Really?” mewed Weedwhisker from his basking place outside the elders’ den. “A strong young apprentice like you, against some fat old kittypet?”

Tigerpaw puffed out his chest. “They were totally scared of me! You should have seen how fast they ran!”

A voice purred in Spottedpaw’s ear. “Tigerpaw didn’t look so brave when one of the kittypets stopped on top of the fence to hiss at him!”

Spottedpaw turned to see Thistleclaw standing beside her. His amber eyes were shining. “You must be feeling better,” he commented. “It’s great to see you again!”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Spottedpaw mewed, feeling hot to the tips of her ears. She wondered why Thistleclaw was looking at her so closely. Did she have moss on her muzzle?

“Can I eat now?” Tigerpaw demanded, bouncing on his toes beside the heap of prey. “Weedwhisker has already taken a shrew for himself and Mumblefoot, and Larksong doesn’t want anything. My belly is empty!”

Thistleclaw nodded. “Go on, then. Don’t fill yourself up too much, or you won’t be up to battle training after sunhigh.”

“I won’t,” Tigerpaw promised through a mouthful of squirrel.

Thistleclaw turned back to Spottedpaw. “What about you? Did you come out here to eat?”

Spottedpaw shook her head. “I wanted to test my leg. I think I’m ready to go back to training now.”

Thistleclaw’s eyes widened. “Wow, you really are determined, aren’t you?”

“Of course! I don’t want my littermates to be warriors before me!”

The gray-and-white warrior tilted his head on one side, studying her. “Would you like to go for a walk in the forest? If your leg feels okay, of course.”

“I’d love to,” Spottedpaw mewed. “But don’t you want to have something to eat first?”

Thistleclaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Come on, let’s go before Featherwhisker sends you back to your nest!”

With a mischievous purr, he led Spottedpaw through the gorse tunnel. He waited while she visited the dirtplace, then walked slowly beside her up the ravine, letting her rest on his shoulder for the steepest parts. His fur was warmed by the sun and his muscles felt strong and smooth beneath his skin. Spottedpaw could hardly breathe by the time they reached the top—and not just because she hadn’t been out of her nest for so long.

They stopped in the shade of some brambles so that Spottedpaw could catch her breath. Thistleclaw dipped his head toward her, concerned. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Featherwhisker will kill me if you come back in worse shape than before!”

Spottedpaw blinked. “I’m fine, honestly. It hardly hurts at all.” She gave her shoulder a fast lick to ease the tingling. “I don’t want to miss any more training,” she confessed. “I’m worried that Sunstar will give Thrushpelt another apprentice if I stay in the medicine den too long.”

“Sunstar wouldn’t do that,” Thistleclaw meowed. “Being a warrior is really important to you, isn’t it?”

Spottedpaw pushed past the brambles and started walking along the path that led to Snakerocks. She guessed that Featherwhisker would have gone the other way because marigold grew beside the river. She didn’t want the medicine cat to send her back to the camp.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she told Thistleclaw. “I want to be the best warrior ThunderClan has ever seen, then deputy and then Clan leader.”

Thistleclaw purred with amusement, and Spottedpaw winced. Did that make her sound like a silly kit with fluff in her ears?

“There’s nothing wrong with ambition,” Thistleclaw mewed. “We should all want to serve our Clan as best we can.”

They ducked under some bracken, and Spottedpaw noticed Thistleclaw flinch as the brittle fronds brushed his ear. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

Thistleclaw flicked the tip of his tail. “It’s nothing,” he mewed, but Spottedpaw reared up on her hind legs to take a closer look. She was suddenly aware of how close their muzzles were, and how their warm breath was mingling in the still, leaf-scented air. Thistleclaw’s ear had a long scratch running from base to tip, and his fur was sticky with dried blood.

“You’ve been clawed!” Spottedpaw gasped. “Was it one of the kittypets?”

“As if one of those mange-balls would get anywhere near me!” Thistleclaw scoffed. “I’m fine, forget about it.” He stepped away and Spottedpaw almost lost her balance.

“I could put some marigold on it, if you like,” she offered. “I’ve been helping Featherwhisker with his herbs, and I know how to use nearly all of them.”

She thought Thistleclaw would be impressed, but he curled his lip. “Only the weak get injured in battle,” he growled. “If you are strong enough and fast enough, the only blood shed will be the blood of your enemies!”

Spottedpaw blinked. “O-okay,” she stammered.

Thistleclaw turned and took a pace back to her. He rested his chin on top of her head and she heard him sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just thinking about a fight that I lost—the one that gave me this scratch, actually. I won’t be beaten next time, I promise!”

“I know you won’t,” Spottedpaw purred. She hardly dared to breathe because she didn’t want Thistleclaw to move. Standing here, in the glade beside Snakerocks, with the warrior’s scent wreathing around her and the pain in her shoulder little more than a dull ache, Spottedpaw thought she had never been happier. She could feel her heart pounding, and every blade of grass beneath her paws.

Nothing in the world will stop me from becoming a warrior alongside you, Thistleclaw, she thought.