“Someone had to guard the camp,” Foxpaw mewed kindly.

Lionpaw squeezed through the nursery entrance, the prickers scraping his pelt.

Daisy looked up, her eyes flashing with worry. “It’s only you.” She sighed as she recognized Lionpaw.

Toadkit and Rosekit tumbled toward him.

“Will you teach us some battle moves?” Toadkit begged.

Rosekit churned her paws as though she were fighting off an enemy. “We need to be ready if WindClan invades again.”

Daisy’s fur bushed out. “They won’t, will they? Not after the sun vanished like that.”

“I doubt it.” Millie was lying on her side while her kits fed. A cough shook her body, startling the kits away. Briarkit mewled angrily and squirmed back for more milk. Bumblekit sat up and yawned, his eyes hardly open, while Blossomkit snuggled into the moss and fell asleep.

“You should see Leafpool,” Daisy advised. “You’ve been coughing all night.”

“It’s just something tickling my throat,” Millie meowed. “I probably swallowed a feather.”

Daisy leaned forward and sniffed at Millie’s muzzle. “You feel a bit feverish.”

“I’ll fetch Leafpool once I’ve cleaned out your bedding,” Lionpaw offered.

Toadkit looked crestfallen. “I thought you were going to teach us battle moves.”

“Sorry, Toadkit. I’ve got to go on patrol after I’ve finished here.”

“It’s not fair,” Rosekit complained. “You get to do all the fun things, while we’re stuck in here.”

Lionpaw sighed. Cleaning out dens and patrolling borders wasn’t fun. He wished he were back in the battle, fighting for his Clan with the power of the stars pulsing in his paws. “Why don’t you ask Foxpaw to teach you?” He glanced at Daisy. “I need to clean out your bedding anyway.”

Daisy got to her paws slowly, as though reluctant to leave the nursery. “I suppose we all need some fresh air.” She glanced at Millie, who was coughing again. “You should stay inside.”

Millie nodded. “I am rather tired.” She curled around her kits and closed her eyes.

As Daisy followed Toadkit and Rosekit out of the den, Lionpaw began picking through her bedding, pulling out stale scraps of moss. Millie’s breathing was hoarse, and the air around her smelled sour.

Lionpaw pawed together the dirty moss and gathered it in his jaws. Then he wriggled backward out of the nursery and dropped it outside. Cinderpaw was trotting through the thorn tunnel, fresh moss dangling from her jaws.

“I haven’t done Millie’s nest yet,” Lionpaw called. “I think she’s sick.”

Graystripe, sunning himself beneath Highledge, scrambled to his paws. “What’s wrong?”

“She has a cough,” Lionpaw mewed. “I was just going to fetch Leafpool.”

Graystripe was already hurrying toward the nursery. “Be quick,” he ordered, his tail bushing out.

Lionpaw padded to the medicine cats’ den. A strong smell of herbs drifted through the brambles. He nosed his way in, blinking to adjust his eyes to the gloom.

“Leafpool?”