He blinked open his eyes. Brightness flooded his gaze, sharper than sunlight. Ferns sprang around him, and the ground was soft with fragrant grass. He was lying in a glade, the clear blue sky glittering through the leaves overhead. Squinting, he recognized Bluestar and Yellowfang muttering together near the entrance to a narrow tunnel. Every now and then one of them would steal an anxious glance toward him. A dull pain throbbed in his leg and when he tried to move, it felt limp and lifeless.

“You’re doing really well.” Firestar was leaning over him, his face framed with soft fur like that of a much younger cat. His green eyes were round with grief. “No, you’ll never be a warrior,” he whispered suddenly. “I’m sorry.”

This is Cinderpelt’s memory! Jaypaw fought the pain that seemed to crack his heart. Despair and panic clawed his belly. I’ve lost everything. Everything!

“Jaypaw!” Cinderpaw’s worried mew jolted Jaypaw back to the present.

“I thought you didn’t know…” Jaypaw breathed, trying to scrabble back to his own reality.

“Know what?” Cinderpaw sounded puzzled.

“Cinderpelt…” Jaypaw began unsteadily. He paused, feeling Cinderpaw’s whiskers brush his paws.

“She was the medicine cat before Leafpool, right?” she prompted.

“What’s going on?” Leafpool burst into the den. “What are you talking about?”

Jaypaw turned, battered by the storm of fear and anger flooding from his mentor. “She knows about Cinderpelt,” he breathed.

The moss in Cinderpaw’s nest rustled. “Knows what?”

But Jaypaw hardly heard the apprentice. He could feel Leafpool’s hot breath on his face.

“She does not know,” she hissed. “She must never know, understand?”

He flattened his ears, drawing back. “But…but…she remembered!” he stammered.

Leafpool shouldered past him. “Don’t worry, Cinderpaw,” she soothed. “Jaypaw was just wondering if Cinderpelt might have tried a different remedy for your leg.”

Liar! Jaypaw flushed hot with anger. Why was she so determined to keep this secret?

Leafpool’s tail swished over her patient’s pelt.

“I knew you couldn’t make it better.” Cinderpaw’s mew was barely more than a whisper. “I’m never going to be a warrior, am I?”

“You need to rest,” Leafpool told her. “Your ears feel hot.” Moss rustled as she fussed with Cinderpaw’s nest. “Jaypaw?” she called over her shoulder. “Bring Cinderpaw some water, please.”

Jaypaw stomped to the pool, picked a wad of moss from the pile kept beside it, and dipped it into the cold water. If she spoils her like this, of course her leg’ll never get better. Leafpool was wrong about everything! He dropped the soaking moss beside Cinderpaw’s nest and padded out of the den.

Frustration with Leafpool tangled with the vision of monsters and the echo of pain in his leg. He stood beside the bramble patch and breathed deeply, hoping the fresh air would clear his thoughts.

“Jaypaw?” Leafpool’s mew surprised him.