Prey ran until it all but flowed into the Clan’s fresh kill pile. As flowers began to bloom, so too did the interests of cats. Amusement made Fernpaw’s whiskers twitch when she spotted Suntail sharing tongues with Burrback. And Blackfur’s eyes seemed to go soft whenever he gazed at Rainheart. Especially when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Disgusting isn’t it?” meowed a voice in Fernpaw’s ear. She turned and found herself looking at Mudpaw.

The apprentice was finally allowed to stretch her legs and limp slowly about the clan’s clearing. “The sun gets warm and suddenly big, strong, tough warriors cats purr over each other like kittypets.” Then she looked abashed and shot Fernpaw a guilty glance.

“Don’t let those ‘kittypets’ hear you say that,” Fernmask retorted good naturedly, “Or you’ll find yourself as Silverclaw’s new plaything.”

Mudpaw flinched but smugly replied, “Not for a while yet, I think. Stonetripe doesn’t want me doing too many duties quite yet. I had to sit down to rest after walking myself to the freshkill pile.” Frustration flickered through her eyes before she mewed, “Taking a few pieces of freshkill to the nursery made me feel like a badger claw was wedged in my spine.”

Fernmask blinked sympathetically at her friend, “It’s only been four moons or so, and Stonestripe said it would take at least six.”

Mudpaw merely sighed; “Even my leg feels stiff and doesn’t hurt as much as my back…”

Later on a hunting patrol, Fernpaw caught a few pieces of freshkill before spotting Oaktalon stalking a fat squirrel. As she paused to watch, a strange scent tickled her nose. She hastily muffled a sneeze, praying to Starclan that she didn’t spook Oaktalon’s prey.

She sniffed and caught the scent again, stronger. It vaguely reminded her of something from the medicine cat’s den.

A flash of movement showed Oaktalon triumphantly holding the squirrel in his jaws, so Fernpaw felt brave enough to mew, “Stonestripe?”

“Nope. Close enough, though.” Brindlepaw stepped out of a thick patch of plants clutching some very pungent smelling roots. “Burdock,” he explained when he put them down, “Redthorn spotted a couple of rats near the abandoned twoleg nest. We wanted some in case some cat got unlucky enough to be bitten.”

“Fernpaw! Are you going to gossip or hunt?” Fernpaw winced at Oaktalon’s loud mew.

“Better get going,” Brindlepaw mewed mildly, “The way he and Redpelt have been acting, he’s already getting freshkill for his unborn kittens.”

“Redpelt is expecting kits already?” Fernpaw asked, her ears upright in surprise.

Brindlepaw purred softly, “Not yet. Good luck.”

Shaking her head in amused disbelief, Fernpaw wondered if Oaktalon had to prove he was a worthy mate to Redpelt first. It would do him good, she decided, if the she-cat keeps that cocky warrior off balance for a while. One more fresh kill piece covered with dirt later, Fernpaw caught the distinct scent of Burdock again.

She lifted her head to call a greeting to Brindlepaw again when the words stuck in her throat and died there. Instincts screaming, she crawled under a holly bush and drew her tail tightly around herself. Peering fearfully under the low branches, she tried to find out what had driven her to hide. The prickly leaves stung all up and down her back, but she didn’t dare leave the safety just yet.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Fernpaw’s pelt quivered. No birdsong. No insects. No scratch of a squirrel’s claws high up in the trees. Not even the forest itself dared to breathe.

The scent of burdock intensified, though she could see nothing, nor did she hear anything… except for the single crack of a branch that sounded not two foxlengths behind her. She didn’t even dare to turn around to try to look. For a long time there was nothing, then the scent faded and the forest came alive again.

Slowly she squeezed out of her hiding place. A gentle breeze blew, cooling the hot sting of the holly pricks down her back. She sniffed, then inhaled deeply, and then finally tasted the air as deeply as she could. Only the faintest lingering trace of Burdock drifted back to her, quickly overwhelmed by the mouthwatering scent of running prey and the fresh scent of growing vegetation.

Uneasy, she dug up all the freshkill she had caught and hurried back to the rest of the patrol. Although anxious all the way back, the camp was as peaceful as ever. The elders were stretched out in the sun, and if she squinted just a bit, she could see Earthstar and Stormpelt murmuring to one another as they cautiously poked their heads into the nursery. Possibly thinking of getting all the soft things ready for the kits later in the season.

“Fernpaw?”

She jumped and spun around to see Rootpaw looking at her with his head tilted, “Are you going to eat all that or just stand there all day waiting for them to turn into crowfood?”

Guiltily she realized that her day’s catches were still hanging from her muzzle. She added them to the fresh kill pile and stretched her jaws in relief, realizing that they’d begun to ache from the weight.

A nose touched her ear and she jumped again.

“You’re jumpier than rabbit in the middle of Windclan’s camp.” Rootpaw commented, “What’s wrong?”

Fernpaw hesitated, feeling silly now that she was surrounded by so much calm. Hearing Icepaw encouraging Mudpaw to stretch as much as she could and the drowsy purr of Dreamfur as Thornpaw tried to coax a story from her, Fernpaw didn’t want to shatter the good feeling that enveloped the camp.

“Over here,” Rootpaw meowed, “and bring some freshkill so it looks like we’re doing something.”

Out of easy hearing from the rest of the clan, Fernpaw told her fellow apprentice everything in between bites.

Instead of teasing her or dismissing her story outright, Rootpaw paused and then meowed quietly, “I think… you should tell Earthstar.”

“But what if he doesn’t believe me?” Fernpaw dug at the soil worriedly with her claws.

“But something scared you. You and the whole forest around you. That’s not something you should ignore.” Rootpaw insisted, butting his head lightly against her shoulder, “If nothing else, he can be aware that something is going on and if something else happens, he’ll know it’s not just one incident.”

It took all of Fernpaw’s courage to approach Earthstar and ask to talk to him. In his den, he tucked his earth brown paws under his chest and listened to her tell the story yet again. He didn’t interrupt once, and when she was done, his dark green eyes were deeply thoughtful.

Finally he sighed, “Did you tell anyone?”

“Just Rootpaw, and he suggested I tell you. I wasn’t sure it was worth bringing up.” Fernpaw scuffed her paws on the ground.

“Don’t tell anyone else,” Earthstar rumbled, “and tell Rootpaw not to say anything either.”

Fernmask’s shoulder’s slumped but she nodded her head.

A tail gently brushed her side. “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open,” Earthstar told her quietly. “I can’t tell the clan about this. Not yet. We need something more definite than the word of an apprentice who was alone with no witnesses, smelled nothing but herbs and heard a sound that could have been anything. Senior warriors would kick up a fuss if I tried to make everyone pair up again, especially after such a peaceful Leafbare.”

Fernpaw’s pelt itched with the urge to ask the other clans if something similar had happened yet, but she didn’t dare. If they had noticed anything, they probably wouldn’t tell a nosy apprentice. If they noticed anything, they would be more interested in clawing her ears over talking. If they did notice something and if they did tell her, she would be on a moon of punishment duties for making the clan look like weak, jittery kittypets.

***

On the night of the half moon, Stonestripe and Brindlepaw left to visit the Moonpool. Fernpaw was having trouble sleeping. The forest had seemed so peaceful that it was getting difficult to remember the darkness that hunted the clans last Leaffall. The clan seemed more than willing to forget that the problem was quiet, not gone. If anyone saw anything or heard anything unusual, no one brought it up.

Frustrated, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to force her body to relax. It would do her no good to be exhausted for tomorrow’s battle training.

Abruptly she found herself out in the forest; plants and trees that sheltered her during the day looked menacing by night. The scent of garlic and fox wafted across her nose and she felt her heart pound with fear.

She pressed herself flat in the shadows as a silhouette stalked past her. It paused and barked softly over its shoulder, and she realized that it was a large fox. Three more shadows, smaller but nearly full grown melted out of the darkness and followed.

In mute horror she followed, watching as they dug into the earth and rolled about against the roots and leaves of the patch of burdock Brindlepaw had harvested from not a quarter moon ago. The smell of burdock became overwhelming as the bruised plant took a beating. Then the large fox kicked dirt back over the exposed roots, disguising the evidence that they had ever been there at all.

Feeling sick, she stalked the shadowy foxes as they went to visit many plants in the territory, brushing against them and rolling in them. Always the big one took care to disguise the fact that they had been there. By the time the shadows melted away with the early morning light, the scent of fox was gone and nothing remained but the scent of the herbs a Medicine Cat used.

“All that heals now betrays.” Fernpaw spun around to see Spottedleaf’s sorrowful gaze on her. “Peace will be the dream and nightmares the waking.”

“What must we do?” Fernpaw begged, “I don’t want to see my clan, or any of the clans, get wiped out!”

“Break the mask that hides the dark.” Spottedleaf murmured, and faded from sight as the first morning rays struck the spot where she crouched.

As she faded, a wail of surprise and fear shattered the silence, making Fernpaw spin frantically; searching for the cat in distress. The cry was unfamiliar, but who it was meant less to Fernpaw than the sound of the cry itself.

A paw poked her in the ribs and Fernpaw grunted a protest, twisting to strike out at the enemy that was attacking.

“Fernpaw!” Icepaw hissed, “Wake up! An emergency meeting has been called!”

Fernpaw staggered upright, “What is it?”

“You’ll see,” he meowed grimly.

Cats were scrambling out of the dens, bleary eyed and confused. Earthstar paced on Highrock, his tail lashing. Stormpelt looked calm… except that his tail would occasionally gave a jerky twitch.

Mudpaw limped slowly and stiffly out of the medicine cat’s den, her eyes wide but glazed with a strange combination of guilt and misery.

When all the cats had assembled, Earthstar stopped pacing and looked down at the clan. He opened his mouth and the words seem to get stuck in his throat. He swallowed and tried again but nothing came out.

“For Starclan’s sake Earthstar!” the Elder, Goldstorm, growled, “Don’t leave us hanging!”

Earthstar gave himself a little shake, “Yes. Well. Cats of Thunderclan, it seems the unthinkable has happened. Our Medicine Cat and her apprentice have not returned from the Moonpool.”

Startled whispers raced from cat to cat. Mudpaw slumped even further.

Fernpaw began to edge toward Mudpaw worriedly. Were her injuries hurting her this badly?

“Perhaps they are just late?” Whiteflame mewed hopefully.

Earthstar shook his head, “Starclan has never kept the medicine cats away from the camp past sunrise.” Many cats shot uneasy glances at the sun, which was well above the horizon. “I want every able bodied warrior and their apprentice to prepare for patrols. We will search the borders and I want a full patrol to go to the Moonpool to see if they can track the medicine cats.”

Stormpelt rose to his paws and began sorting the cats, “Remember, we don’t want any trouble with the other clans. Chances are good that all of the medicine cats are missing, not just ours. Do not provoke them. Fernpaw!”

The apprentice jumped at becoming the focus of his attention. She sat up straight. “Yes?”

“I want you in the patrol to the Moonpool.” Stormpelt flicked his tail at a group of cats composed of Rootpaw, Moonlight, Burrback, Heatherpelt and Fernpaw.

As the cats separated into their groups, and the cats being left behind murmured worried mews to be careful to their clanmates, Earthstar raised his tail for attention again.

“I want every cat to stay within sight of each other.” He ordered. “Pay attention to everything.” He paused and then growled, “Pay attention to smells and sounds out of the ordinary.” Fernpaw could swear his eyes flicked to hers for the briefest of heartbeats.

“But it’s my fault!” Mudpaw wailed miserably when one of the cats tried to prod her back into the medicine cat’s den, and all the cats seemed to turn as one to the apprentice. “I told them both to go! I said I would be fine alone for one night. Now…”

A few reassuring purrs rolled through the camp, but to every cat’s surprise it was Silverclaw who hauled her tottering old frame over to the apprentice and gave her a few rough licks.

“Now stop that!” she croaked, her voice creaking like branches in Leafbare, “Wailing like a kit over things you can’t change will do no cat any good. And blaming yourself for the actions of other cats is more mousebrained that I ever want to hear coming out of any cat’s mouth. They were both more than able to make the decision for themselves.”

As Fernpaw raced out of the camp, one fearful thought clung like a burr. No clan cat would ever interfere with a Medicine Cat’s duties. And no rogue or loner had the strength to interfere with medicine cats plus their apprentices. Coupled with the dream last night…

A stone nestled in her belly. The foxes had struck again.

As they neared the Moonpool stream and the border they saw a patrol of Windclan cats arriving at nearly the same time. Both patrols hesitated in mid step then hurried to meet one another. Redember, Foxdash, Stillnight and Stonefall faced the Thunderclan cats across the stream.

“What have you done with Fawnspot and Lonepaw?” snarled Foxdash.

Burrback bristled furiously.

We don’t have time for this! “You mean your medicine cats haven’t come back either?” Fernpaw cut in hastily, making a point of staring with wide eyes up the stream.

Both sides relaxed marginally.

“We’re missing Stonestripe and Brindlepaw,” Moonlight said, shooting a narrow eyed glance at Fernpaw.

“Would you like to come with us?” Heatherpelt offered diplomatically, “If something is keeping medicine cats trapped somewhere…”

A quick glance at the Windclan cats told Fernpaw that the other clan fully intended to cross the border whether they were invited or not and that Heatherpelt’s invitation was solely to save time and warrior tempers.

As the two patrols raced up the stream, the dread was only building in Fernpaw, rather than dwindling. Even nine cats strong, Fernpaw didn’t feel like they had enough for what was going on ahead.

The Moonpool seemed calm and serene as the cats flowed along the path and right up to the edge of the water. The scent of the medicine cats was stale and the warriors concluded that they had been gone since before dawn. Both patrols spread out, ranging here and there; searching for some trace.

It was Redember, a red and black tortoiseshell Windclan cat who yowled loud enough to draw both patrols back to him.

Pawprints stretched out in full flight marred the soft mud and streaked away from Moonpool, farther into unknown territory beyond the clans. Caught on a twig were several long, red fox hairs.

The cats raced onward. Fernpaw felt the sick feeling twist her stomach. There was no scent of garlic, or fox on those hairs. Just herbs… like a Medicine Cat.

“Great Starclan!” gaped Redember as they rounded a turn and found themselves in a box canyon. Collapsed right in the open space was a sorry looking lump of fur.

It twitched once and moaned. It was Appleseed, Riverclan’s only medicine cat. Blood soaked his black fur and pooled gently below him.

“Where are the others?” Stillnight mewed angrily, “Why aren’t they helping him?”

“No! Thunderclan! Windclan! Get out of here! Run!”

All cats looked up to see Stonestripe standing high up on the steep back wall of the canyon, favoring one leg and an expression of horror on her face.

The scent of medicine herbs wafted on the breeze like a cruel taunt. The rasping snarl made both patrols spun around. Three foxes slid out of the bushes at the entrance to the canyon, blocking them in. A triumphant bark made Fernpaw turn to glance back. The biggest fox of them all loomed at the top of the cliff; ready to toss any cat all the way back down to the floor of the canyon. Between the three nearly grown pups and the vixen guarding the cliff top, they were all trapped.