Sandstorm said nothing particularly helpful as she followed the stream that marked the border with WindClan. Jayfeather listened impatiently to her comments about how the prey was running and whether WindClan was likely to make a raid across the border. But he didn’t object; he knew the she-cat wouldn’t talk until she was ready.

Eventually they reached the spot where the trees gave way to moorland, and a cold wind came whistling down from the ridge that stretched all the way to the Moonpool.

“Let’s rest for a while,” Sandstorm suggested, sitting at the edge of the stream.

Jayfeather padded over to join her, turning until the wind was in his face, enjoying the snow-scented blast that flattened his pelt to his sides.

“Jayfeather,” Sandstorm began, “do you think Leafpool is all right? She seems very tense lately.”

So that’s what it’s about! “I’ve noticed that too,” he replied cautiously.

“Is it the strain of dealing with the greencough?” Sandstorm guessed. “Or something worse? Do…do you think it’s possible she’s blaming herself for Ashfur’s death?”

Jayfeather sank his claws into the grass to steady himself.

I didn’t see that coming! He wanted to tell Sandstorm that the death of Ashfur had nothing to do with Leafpool. I can guarantee it! But he knew how stupid it would be to voice his certainty. It would provoke questions from Sandstorm—questions that he had no way of answering without bringing the whole of ThunderClan crashing down around his ears.

“I don’t think so,” he murmured.

“Perhaps she feels she ought to have predicted his death, or stopped it somehow,” Sandstorm went on. “Or maybe she thinks she should be able to visit him in StarClan and find out the truth.”

Jayfeather froze. So Firestar hasn’t told Sandstorm that he asked Leafpool to find Ashfur and talk to him. How many more cats have secrets from one another?

“I think Leafpool’s tired from dealing with the greencough,” he mewed, knowing he would have to say something to explain his mentor’s strange mood. “And I know she’s worried about Whitewing’s kits being born in such a cold season. Besides, every cat is still grieving for Ashfur.” Well, maybe not every cat… Jayfeather curled up his claws as the lie slipped out.

“You could be right,” Sandstorm sighed. “Firestar and I are both worried about her. After all she’s not just our medicine cat, she’s our daughter, too. Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight would feel just the same about you if you were in trouble.”

Or not…Jayfeather found it hard to nod seriously, hoping that his expression showed none of the turmoil he felt.

“You’ll tell me if you find out anything else?” Sandstorm mewed.

“Of course.” Of course not! As he followed the ginger she-cat back to the camp, Jayfeather wondered which cat would be the next to probe his secrets, and how long the terrible things he knew could stay hidden.

“Into the nursery now, kits,” Daisy mewed gently. “It’s time you were asleep.”

“But WindClan are attacking us!” Rosekit protested. “And I’m going to be Clan leader and fight them off!”