Alderheart watched Velvet carefully as she padded in front of him around the camp. He stood beside her as she paused to watch Ivypool’s kits tumbling and playing in front of the nursery, and joined in with her soft mrrows of laughter at the little creatures’ antics. The sun was going down, and every cat was enjoying the last of the warmth before shadows filled the stone hollow.

A quarter moon had passed since Briarlight’s death, and Alderheart could finally think without pain about how much she would have enjoyed watching the kits.

She gave so much to the Clan, he thought, and we’ll all miss her, but I know she’ll be able to run again in StarClan.

“Your leg is much better,” Alderheart told Velvet as they resumed their walk. “You’re hardly limping at all now.”

He was glad she was better, but he suppressed a wistful sigh at the thought that she didn’t need his help anymore, and soon she would go back to the Twolegplace.

We’ll still be friends, though, won’t we?

As they turned back before they reached the thorn tunnel, Alderheart spotted Sparkpelt and Larksong talking to Bramblestar in the middle of the camp.

“They all look pleased about something,” Velvet mewed.

“Maybe there’s some good news,” Alderheart responded. “We could certainly do with some. I’d better get back,” he added. “There’ll be herbs to sort, even if no sick cats come by.”

Reluctantly he began leading Velvet back to the medicine cats’ den. After her brief visit when Briarlight died, Leafpool had returned to RiverClan, and Jayfeather would shred Alderheart’s fur if he thought that he was shirking his duties.

“I can help you,” Velvet offered. “I’ve learned even more about herbs since I’ve been with you in the medicine-cat den. I can be useful!”

When they slipped past the bramble screen into the den, Alderheart saw that Jayfeather was peering down Rosepetal’s throat, while Fuzzball bounced around at his paws.

“What’s wrong with her, Jayfeather?” he asked. “Can I fetch the herb for her? I know lots now!”

Jayfeather muttered something between his teeth, of which Alderheart caught the words annoying little furball. Suddenly worried about what he had done, Alderheart beckoned the little ginger tom with a twitch of his ears.

“Are you okay with Jayfeather?” he asked in an undertone. “I know he can be difficult—”

“Oh, no!” Fuzzball exclaimed, blinking up adoringly at the skinny gray tabby. “Jayfeather is so cool! I know he’s strict, but that’s because he’s so important.”

Alderheart exchanged an amused glance with Velvet. There’s no accounting for tastes. . . .

“Hi, Jayfeather,” he meowed. “Can I do anything to help?”