Mistystar's Omen by Erin Hunter Page A

her leg had dulled to a nagging ache. Hollyleaf lay still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the near-darkness. This definitely wasn’t the ThunderClan medicine den. She was lying on a thin bed of feathers over cold stone. I’m still in the tunnels! Hollyleaf felt a jolt of relief, then alarm. Who was down here with her? Hollyleaf tried to recall the scent of the cat who had told her to go back to sleep, but her belly rumbled and suddenly all she could think about was how hungry she was. When had she last eaten? She tried to stand up but her hind leg crumpled and she flopped onto her side, frustrated.
    â€œYou’re awake!” A face loomed from the shadows. “How is your leg?”
    Hollyleaf opened her eyes wide until she could make out ginger-and-white patches on the cat’s pelt. He smelled of stone and water and moss. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
    The cat ignored her. Instead, he pushed something toward her with one paw. “You must be starving. Here, eat.”
    Fresh-kill! Hollyleaf bent her head, ready to dive in, then pulled back. A small, slimy minnow lay in front of her. “I don’t like fish,” she mewed.
    The cat twitched his ears. “Down here, you don’t always have a choice.” His tone was mild, but Hollyleaf felt embarrassed. Her belly let out a loud growl as if it would be happy with anything, even crow-food. Holding her breath, Hollyleaf bit into the fish. Plump, tasty mouse, she told herself. Pine-scented squirrel. The first pigeon of newleaf .
    She swallowed the last mouthful and drank from the moss beside her. The ginger-and-white cat watched her expectantly. “Thank you,” Hollyleaf meowed. “I . . . I guess it didn’t taste too bad.”
    The tom was still studying her. “You’re Hollypaw, aren’t you?”
    She blinked. “Hollyleaf, actually. How did you know? I’ve never seen you before, have I?”
    The cat shook his head and his eyes clouded. “No, you’ve never seen me. But I saw you with your littermates when you came to rescue those kits, just before the river flooded.”
    Hollyleaf stared at him. She would never forget the desperate search for the lost WindClan kits with Jayfeather and Lionblaze. They had been washed out of the tunnels and into the lake when the underground river overflowed. It had been a lucky escape for all of them. Now this cat was telling her that he had been here! “Who are you?” she mewed.
    The ginger-and-white tom busied himself with the feathers underneath her injured leg, rearranging them so that they were spread evenly. “My name is Fallen Leaves,” he meowed quietly.
    â€œYou’re not from the Clans, are you?” Hollyleaf pressed. “Where do you live?”
    Fallen Leaves padded over to a small bundle of herbs and started dividing them up. “Once I lived in the hills above the lake, but this is my home now.” He turned, pushing some herbs toward Hollyleaf. “Eat this comfrey; it’ll help your leg. I won’t give you any more poppy seeds unless you have trouble sleeping.”
    Hollyleaf obediently chewed the fragrant leaves. “Were you a medicine cat?” she asked.
    Fallen Leaves tipped his head to one side. “I don’t know what that is. We all learned about herbs and injuries so we could help one another. Is that what you mean?”
    â€œKind of.” Hollyleaf propped herself up on her front legs, feeling her heart beat faster. “Who were the other cats? Were you part of a Clan?” Was there another group of cats living near here, one that the Clans didn’t know about?
    â€œNo more questions,” Fallen Leaves ordered. “You need to rest. You haven’t broken your leg, just wrenched it. You’ll mend soon enough, and then I suppose you’ll want to go back to your friends.”
    â€œNo!” Hollyleaf yelped. “I