Bramblestar was silent for several heartbeats, just looking at her, a bemused expression on his face. “It isn’t a warrior’s job—much less an apprentice’s—to worry about StarClan’s messages,” he mewed gently. “We have medicine cats to interpret StarClan’s meaning for us.” His head tilted to one side. “I remember you hanging around the medicine-cat den with Alderheart when you were a kit,” he continued. “Do you feel you might like to be a medicine cat yourself?”

Not another apprenticeship! Twigpaw thought. Confidently she shook her head. “When I was a kit, I used to think I might like to be a medicine cat,” she replied, “but now I realize I’m much better suited to be a warrior.”

Bramblestar nodded. “I appreciate your concern about the prophecy,” he told her. “It shows you’re a thoughtful and dedicated cat. But ThunderClan can’t tell the other Clans what to do. Unfortunately, ShadowClan is its own problem, and only time will tell what will happen there. Meanwhile,” he went on, “you must focus on being a good apprentice. That is the best way you can serve your Clan. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes!” Twigpaw responded. “I really will do my best.”

“Good,” Bramblestar meowed. “You can go now. Please find Sparkpelt and send her up to me.”

Twigpaw ducked her head and left the den. As she scrambled down the tumbled rocks, she felt a mixture of satisfaction and apprehension. Did I just get my mentor into trouble?

Early the following morning Larksong appeared at the entrance to the nursery to fetch Finpaw for training. Twigpaw followed her fellow apprentice out into the camp, looking around for her mentor.

“Where’s Sparkpelt?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Larksong replied, looking faintly anxious. “She wasn’t in the warriors’ den when I woke up. Perhaps you’d better look for her. Finpaw and I will wait.”

Oh, StarClan! Twigpaw thought, feeling guilty. Surely Bramblestar can’t have sent her away because I complained?

Twigpaw began to scour the camp, sticking her head into the elders’ den, where Graystripe and Millie were still asleep, and into the apprentices’ den, where most of the sick cats were curled up. There was no sign of Sparkpelt.

Then, as Twigpaw was approaching the medicine-cat den, she heard her mentor’s voice raised in a loud and annoyed meow. “I haven’t got time for this! I have an apprentice to train.”

Twigpaw’s ears twitched at Jayfeather’s growl, though she couldn’t make out the words. She brushed past the bramble screen and saw Sparkpelt sitting at the side of the den, licking up some leaves that looked like watermint.

“Twigpaw,” she rasped as she looked up to see her apprentice, “I have this StarClan-cursed sickness. You’ll have to train with Larksong today.”

“And for the next few days,” Jayfeather added. “Now eat the rest of those leaves and get yourself over to the apprentices’ den.”