“Do you think she’s ready for her final assessment?” Cloudtail asked in a rush. “Honeypaw and Poppypaw are, but I don’t want to put Cinderpaw through the test unless her leg is fully recovered.”

Leafpool hesitated.

Why isn’t she answering? Alarmed, Jaypaw groped for her thoughts. This time he was determined to make it through the fog. His breath caught in his throat. A memory lit Leafpool’s mind, a memory so strong that it couldn’t be hidden.

Walls of rock enclosed a snow-filled ravine. At once Jaypaw recognized the old forest camp he had visited in Cinderpaw’s dream. Snow blanketed the dens and bushes, but a hollow had been cleared in the center, and here limped a gray she-cat, tail down, whiskers white with frost. She was so thin Jaypaw could see her bones like the branches of a leafless tree. A biting wind sent flurries of powdery snow scudding across the makeshift clearing. Jaypaw shivered with cold, caught in Leafpool’s memory like fur in a thistle.

Leafpool was padding toward the gray she-cat, snowflakes dappling her coat. She looked young, with the rounded face of a kit and her fur fluffed up against the cold. “Cinderpelt, let me fetch you some fresh-kill,” she begged. “A hunting patrol has just returned with a blackbird.”

Hope sparked in Cinderpelt’s dull eyes. “A blackbird?” she murmured. “We haven’t seen prey like that for a while.”

“Let me bring you some,” Leafpool insisted.

Cinderpelt’s expression changed abruptly. Now her eyes were like chips of ice. “Don’t waste it on me!” she snapped. “The elders and queens must eat first. And the warriors and apprentices. They need their strength if they are to find more food.”

“But you need strength, too,” Leafpool argued. “You’re looking after the cats with whitecough. What if it turns to greencough? They’ll need you even more.”

Cinderpelt dipped her head, then spoke more gently. “With this leg, I can’t walk far. Especially when the cold makes it ache. I can get by on less food than the others.” There was grief and longing in her voice. Jaypaw could hear the words Cinderpelt did not speak: If I weren’t crippled, I could be out there too, finding food for my Clanmates….

“She’s fine.” Leafpool’s bright mew jolted him back into the present. His mentor was reassuring Cloudtail enthusiastically. “Nothing will stop her from becoming a warrior.”

“I’ve noticed her leg is stiff in some of her battle moves.” Cloudtail sounded uncertain. “I’m worried she’s not telling me when it hurts.”

“Then it probably doesn’t hurt,” Leafpool mewed.

“Perhaps you could watch her next training session?” Cloudtail ventured. “To make sure?”

“No need.” Leafpool was brisk. “She’s going to make a great warrior. You should be proud of her.”