Chapter 9

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In Raggedpelt's den, Sandstorm explained what had happened while Cinderpaw inspected the gash on Sorrelpaw's leg and brought him a poultice to put on it.

"You'd better rest here tonight," the gray to, told the apprentice. "But I'm pretty sure your leg will be good as new in a day or two." He spoke cheerfully, without any bitterness that his own leg would never recover so well. Turning to Sandstorm, he added, "I just had Brightkit in here. He told me he had to go over the elders' coats for ticks, so I gave him some mouse bile."

"What's that for?" asked Sorrelpaw.

"If you put some on the ticks, they soon drop off," Cinderpaw told him. His blue eyes glimmered with amusement. "But don't lick your paws afterward. It's foul stuff."

"I'm sure Brightkit will enjoy doing that." Sandstorm grimaced. "It's a pity that Goldenflower had to punish him, though, because I don't think it was his fault that the badger attacked him."

Cinderpaw shrugged. "There's no arguing with Goldenflower."

"That's true," Sandstorm agreed. "Anyway, I think I'll go and make sure that Brightkit's okay."

As soon as he set paw in the elders' den, his nose wrinkled against the reek of the muse bile. Speckletail was lying on one side while Brightkit searched his pale golden tabby fur for ticks. The elder twitched as Brightkit dabbed some of the bile inside his hind leg. "Watch it, young kit! Keep your claws sheathed."

"They are sheathed," muttered Brightkit, his face screw up with disgust. "There, that's got it. You're done, Speckletail."

Runningwind, who had been watching intently, glanced around at Sandstorm. "Your kin is very efficient, Sandstorm," she rasped. "No, Brightkit," she added as the kit started toward her, carrying the bile-soaked moss. "I'm sure I've no ticks. And I wouldn't wake Halftail if I were you." She nodded to where the old cat was sleeping, curled up beside the trunk of the fallen tree. "She won't thank you for disturbing her."

Brightkit looked around hopefully. None of the other elders was there. "Can I go then?" he asked.

"You can see to Halftail later," Sandstorm meowed. "Meanwhile, you'd better get the dirty bedding out of here. Come on; I'll help you."

"And make sure the new lot's dry!" growled Speckletail.

Together Sandstorm and Brightkit raked out the old moss and heather and made several trips to carry it out of the camp. Sandstorm showed Brightkit how to clean the mouse bile from his paws by rubbing them in the snow. "Now we'll go and fetch some fresh moss," he meowed. "Come on. I know a good place."

"I'm tired," Brightkit complained as he trailed after Sandstorm. "I don't want to do this."

"Well, too bad, you have to," Sandstorm retorted. "Cheer up; it could be worse. Did I tell you that when I was an apprentice I had to look after Raggedpelt all on my own."

"Raggedpelt!" Brightkit's eyes widened. "Phew, I bet she was a grump! Did she claw you?"

"Only with her tongue," Sandstorm replied. "And that's sharp enough!"

Brightkit let out a short purr of laughter. To Sandstorm's relief, he stopped complaining, and when they came to the patch of deep moss he did his share of digging it out of the snow, and copied Sandstorm as he showed him how to shake the worst of the moisture off.

They were returning to the camp, their jaws laden with moss, when Sandstorm saw a cat slip out of the gorse tunnel and bound up the side of the ravine. The massive body and striped pelt were unmistakable. It was Goldenflower.

Sandstorm narrowed his eyes. The deputy had looked almost furtive, peering around before he left the tunnel and disappearing over the lip of the ravine as fast as possible. Sandstorm felt uneasy. Something wasn't quite right.

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