She reappeared a moment later looking serious. “It’s the right size for me, but it needs fresh bedding,” she commented. “Please can I have some pigeon feathers?”
Lionblaze dipped his head. “Why yes, leader. Anything else I can bring you? The finest fresh-kill perhaps? Soaked moss?” His tone was good-humored and teasing.
Blossomfall bristled. “Briarlight has to have the softest nest,” she insisted. “She can’t feel thorns sticking into her, remember? If she gets a wound, it could get infected before she noticed.”
Lionblaze rested his tail-tip on Blossomfall’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand. Squirrelflight, is it okay if I take a patrol to fetch bedding for Briarlight? We can go hunting straight after.”
The deputy nodded. “Take Dovewing, Ivypool, and Rosepetal with you. Make sure none of the moss is damp before you line her nest. And feel free to hunt a pigeon so we can use the feathers.”
Dovewing purred. This was a duty she would enjoy!
Briarlight’s blue eyes shone. “Thank you! I promise I’ll be useful. I can wake everyone for dawn patrols, and check nests for thorns while you’re out. There’s no reason I can’t have duties of my own now. I am a warrior, after all!”
CHAPTER 8
The warriors enjoyed only two nights of peace after the Gathering before Toadstep started coughing. This time Dovewing struggled to feel sympathetic. He knew he was getting sick! He should have gone to Jayfeather!
Hazeltail was still being nursed in the medicine cats’ den, but as Toadstep didn’t seem quite as sick, Jayfeather and Leafpool made a nest for him in the apprentices’ den with Sandstorm. Squirrelflight announced that she was moving back to the warriors’ den, saying that it made sense to let the coughing cats keep themselves awake. But Dovewing saw past the deputy’s lighthearted comment to the strain in her eyes, and she wondered how many more cats would succumb to the illness.
Leafpool stood over the fresh-kill pile, making sure each cat was eating properly. When Dovewing selected a rather scrawny mouse, Leafpool reached out with one paw and stopped her. “I’ll have that,” she meowed. “You and Bumblestripe can share this squirrel.”
Dovewing looked at the plump, fluffy creature. “It’s huge!” she pointed out. “We could eat that for a whole moon!”
“Share it with Purdy, then,” Leafpool urged.
Dovewing dragged the squirrel over to the tree stump, trying not to sneeze as the wispy tail tickled her nose. Purdy licked his lips. “What a feast!” he commented.
“Bumblestripe, join us!” Dovewing called. The big gray tom trotted over with Sandstorm at his heels.
“Is there enough for me?” she asked hoarsely. She looked tired, and Dovewing could count her ribs along her bony sides.
“O’ course!” Purdy grunted with his mouth full. He shifted to let Sandstorm take a bite from the squirrel’s juicy rump. Swallowing, the old tom watched as Toadstep shuffled into the apprentices’ den, followed by Jayfeather with a clump of fresh bedding. “Putting you and Toadstep together reminds me o’ the time Firestar took all them sick cats to the old Twoleg den,” he remarked. “That were a brave thing he did, keeping the rest of us from getting ill.”
Sandstorm’s eyes clouded. “It cost him a life, too,” she recalled.
“Do you think we’ll do that again, if more cats start coughing?” Dovewing asked as she scraped a stringy piece of meat from between her teeth.
Sandstorm shook her head. “I doubt it. I don’t want to infect anyone else, but it wouldn’t help to be in that drafty old den. Better for all of us to be close to the medicine cats.” She looked down at her paws as if she’d lost her appetite, and Dovewing felt bad for making her think back to that terrible time of sickness.
She glanced around the clearing. Although it was sunhigh, the sky was thick with clouds and the breeze smelled of rain. The cats huddled over their food, their fur blown all ways so that they resembled pine cones more than sleek, well-groomed warriors. A flash of movement caught Dovewing’s eye. Blossomfall was slipping through the barrier, not using the usual gap but forcing a new way at one side of the entrance. The fur pricked along Dovewing’s spine. Was Blossomfall trying not to be seen? She battled briefly with a stir of suspicion and cast out her senses, trying to picture the she-cat on the other side of the barrier. She felt the familiar jolt of dismay as no pictures appeared in her mind, and nothing came to her above the sounds of her Clanmates eating. She shook the feeling away. Where is Blossomfall going? There was only one way to find out.
Nodding to the other cats around the squirrel, she stood up. “I’m just going to the dirtplace,” she whispered to Bumblestripe to deter him from following her. She used the normal gap through the barrier, noting with relief that it was becoming less prickly. Outside the hollow, the trees clashed in the rising wind, and even though most of the leaves had fallen into heaps on the ground, little daylight seeped down to the forest floor. Dovewing trotted through the shadows, following Blossomfall’s scent trail on the leaf mulch. Her heart was pounding and she kept her ears flattened, listening for sounds of danger. The buzzing noise had stopped but her senses still felt dull and heavy, and the half-lit forest seemed far more daunting and secretive than it ever had before.
Suddenly there was a rapid crackle behind her and Blossomfall pounced on Dovewing’s haunches, knocking her over. Dovewing scrambled to her paws and spun around. “What did you do that for?” she cried.
“You were following me, weren’t you?” Blossomfall challenged. “Why would you do that? Don’t you trust me?” Her fur was fluffed up and her voice was harsh with anger.
Dovewing looked down at her paws, flushed with shame. “I . . . I was just wondering where you were going.”
Blossomfall flicked her tail. “You may as well come with me, since you clearly think I’m up to no good.” She turned and bounded through the trees.
Dovewing raced to catch up, feeling branches slap her face as they hurtled through the undergrowth. They emerged into a burst of daylight on the old thunderpath. Blossomfall didn’t slow as she swerved and headed along the pale stone to the tumbledown Twoleg den. To Dovewing’s surprise, she skidded to a halt beside the ivy-covered den and vanished along its side. Dovewing paused. Is she meeting a Dark Forest cat? She thrust the thought away. Blossomfall had done nothing to make any cat question her loyalty since the Great Battle! Dovewing trotted after her Clanmate and found her bent over the dark brown soil behind the abandoned den. She was poking at some shriveled plants with one paw.
“I’m looking for catmint,” the she-cat hissed through gritted teeth. “Satisfied? I know Jayfeather and Leafpool grew some here, and I wanted to see if there was any left. Our Clanmates are getting sick, and we have to find a way to make them better before we have to dig any more burial holes!” Her voice rose in despair and Dovewing felt a surge of sympathy, and guilt for doubting her.
“I’ll help you,” she mewed, her voice cracking with emotion. She pressed against Blossomfall’s flank in silent apology, then began picking over the loose, damp earth. To her relief, she uncovered a few tiny green stalks still bearing leaves. “Do you think these will help?” she asked Blossomfall.
The warrior nodded. “Bite them off carefully,” she instructed. “Leave the roots so they can keep growing.”
With a small harvest of stems, they headed back to the camp. “I’m sorry,” Dovewing meowed around her mouthful. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Blossomfall stopped and put down her little burden. “I’d probably have done the same,” she admitted. “Joining the Dark Forest was the biggest mistake I could have made. I . . . I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”
Dovewing leaned over and pressed her muzzle against Blossomfall’s shoulder. “You have to,” she murmured. “For all our sakes. We have to move on from what happened, and find new ways to be strong.” Her words fell like stones into the cold air. Does that include me learning to live without my senses? she wondered. Just like Blossomfall,
I feel as if I can’t forgive myself if I am losing them. How will I serve my Clan now?
CHAPTER 9
Dovewing paused to catch her breath before dragging her prey—a female blackbird, her brown feathers stained with blood after a rather messy catch—through the barrier of thorns. A quarter moon had passed since she and Blossomfall searched for catmint, and more cats had fallen ill. Two sunrises ago, Littlecloud had visited the camp to ask if Jayfeather and Leafpool could spare any catmint for sick ShadowClan cats, so it was clear the sickness had spread beyond ThunderClan’s territory. Graystripe appeared behind Dovewing carrying a vole.
“Are you okay, Dovewing?” he asked, laying the vole at his feet.
“Fine,” Dovewing meowed. She picked up the blackbird and started to push through the gap in the thorns. She emerged to see Rosepetal placing her catch, a young rabbit, on the fresh-kill pile. Bramblestar padded over to watch the hunting patrol return.
“Well done,” he purred. “I know it’s hard to keep the fresh-kill pile stocked when there are fewer warriors able to hunt, but we have to do everything we can to feed the Clan. If we’re hungry, we’re more likely to get sick.”
Dovewing looked anxiously at the leader’s bony haunches and the hollows above his eyes. She doubted that Bramblestar was taking his fair share from the pile, letting his Clanmates eat the best of the fresh-kill instead. Brightheart was the last to emerge from the thorns, stumbling over a thrush that hung from her jaws. She had left her kits in Daisy’s care in order to help with hunting patrols, even though she was exhausted and thin from feeding Sorreltail’s kits as well as her own.
She was followed closely by Leafpool, Berrynose, and Poppyfrost, who each carried a bundle of tightly wrapped leaves. Jayfeather came to meet them in the center of the clearing, and Briarlight dragged herself over to help unroll the parcels.
“Did you find any catmint?” Jayfeather asked, his voice taut with worry.
Berrynose shook his head. “We tried all the places you suggested,” he meowed. “There was nothing but dead stalks. Sorry.”
Jayfeather twitched his ears. “It’s not your fault.”
“Leafpool said this might help, though,” mewed Poppyfrost, nudging her bundle toward Jayfeather so he could sniff it.
“It’s fennel,” Leafpool explained. “I know we usually use it to treat vomiting, but I’ve seen it help cats who are having trouble breathing.”
Jayfeather nodded. “Good idea. Hawkweed could be helpful too, though I don’t know if any grows in our territory.”
“I’ll take a look tomorrow,” Leafpool promised. “I can think of one or two places it might be.”
Dovewing felt a rush of pride in her Clan’s medicine cats. Was there any plant whose use they didn’t know? With their skill, surely ThunderClan would win this battle, too?
Suddenly there was a burst of squeaking from outside the nursery. “Help! Help!” piped Amberkit. “The Dark Forest is coming to get me!”
Dovewing spun around, her fur bristling. She relaxed when she saw Molepaw creeping up on the tiny kit, his front paws extended with claws safely sheathed. Dewkit and Snowkit raced up to join their littermate. “Stay back, traitor!” hissed Snowkit, fluffing up his white pelt. “You say you’re a ThunderClan cat now, but we know the truth! You just want to kill us!”
Molepaw arched his back. “Aha! It seems you do not trust me, even though I swore an oath! Well, you’re right! I am your most dangerous enemy!” He pounced toward the kits, his tail lashing.
Dovewing bounded over and stood in front of the brown-and-cream apprentice. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
Molepaw blinked up at her. “Playing,” he answered innocently.
Dovewing hissed. “You know full well that this is more than a game. Why are you making these kits frightened of the Dark Forest? That battle has been won.”
The apprentice’s gaze slid sideways to rest on Thornclaw and Birchfall, who were sharing tongues by the tree stump. “Not entirely,” he muttered.
“Hey!” Amberkit wailed. “Why did you stop our game, Dovewing? We were having fun!”
Daisy bustled out of the nursery. “What’s going on? Dovewing, is there a problem? I wanted these kits to stretch their legs and get some fresh air.”
Dovewing flicked the tip of her tail. “I don’t think Molepaw has chosen the best game,” she mewed.
The cream-furred queen narrowed her eyes. “All kits play at fighting,” she mewed. “No one ever gets hurt. Leave them be, Dovewing. I’m sure you have more than enough to do.” She whisked back into the nursery.
Molepaw glared at Dovewing. “You heard her. Stop sticking your muzzle where it’s not wanted.”
“You know what you’re doing, Molepaw,” Dovewing growled. “Perhaps you should think about whether it’s helping the Clan.” She turned away, still bristling. Behind her, she heard the kits leaping on Molepaw, squealing in triumph.
“We killed the traitor!” Dewkit declared. “ThunderClan is safe!”
Dovewing felt her heart sink. ThunderClan will never be safe if we are divided inside the walls of our own camp.
The following dawn, Squirrelflight told the cats to organize themselves into hunting patrols while she led a border check. Her voice was quiet and husky, and Dovewing hoped she wasn’t getting sick as well. When the deputy and her patrol, which included Bramblestar, had vanished into the thorns, the remaining warriors looked at each other.
“I’ll lead one patrol,” Poppyfrost offered.
Lionblaze and Cinderheart padded across the clearing to join her.
“I’ll come too,” mewed Birchfall.
“Actually, I was going to ask Millie,” Poppyfrost meowed. “Thanks anyway. Millie, will you join us?”
Looking faintly surprised, the gray tabby she-cat walked over to the group. Dovewing tensed when she saw the hurt in her father’s eyes. How obvious could Poppyfrost be? “I’d like to hunt with you, Birchfall,” she called. “Thornclaw, Ivypool, Mousewhisker, Blossomfall, will you come with us?” I will not let my Clanmates shun these cats for the mistake they made!
The four cats joined her, and Dovewing winced at the gratitude in their eyes. Cherrypaw, Molepaw, and Rosepetal formed another patrol, and the three groups of cats filed out through the thorns. Poppyfrost took her cats toward the old thunderpath, and Rosepetal’s patrol headed up the side of the hollow, so Dovewing led her warriors toward the border with WindClan, climbing up the hill to where the trees thinned out and it was easier to spot birds pecking on the ground.
Ivypool caught a thrush almost at once and covered it with leaf mulch at the foot of a holly bush. Dovewing picked up the scent of a rabbit that must have strayed from the moor. She followed it toward the stream, but stopped when it looked as if the creature had hopped across the water and returned to WindClan territory. Disappointed, she turned back and joined her father as he circled around a squirrel that was munching an acorn, so absorbed it hadn’t noticed the stalking cats. They drew nearer, placing their paws so lightly they made no sound, and when they were less than a fox-length away, Birchfall pounced. He landed neatly on top of the squirrel, dealt the killing blow, and lifted his head in triumph.
“Nice work!” Dovewing commented. “I’ll take it over to the holly bush.” She picked up the piece of fresh-kill and carried it through the trees to join Ivypool’s catch. She was just sweeping leaves over the fluffy gray body when there was a pounding of paw steps from farther along the ridge. Startled, Dovewing peered up the slope.
Cherrypaw burst out of the undergrowth, her fur standing on end. Molepaw and Rosepetal were close behind, bush-haired and wide-eyed in panic. Dovewing raced to meet them. “What’s happened?” she called.
Cherrypaw slid to a stop, almost losing her paws on the loose mulch. “We . . . we . . .” She paused for a moment until her breath steadied. Then she blinked and looked straight at Dovewing. “We found the scent of a fox inside our border. It could be the one that ShadowClan drove out, and it’s
looking for more cats.”
The rest of Dovewing’s patrol crowded around.
“That’s not good news,” Thornclaw growled.
“It’s worse than—” Rosepetal began, but Molepaw cut her off.
“We’re going to let Bramblestar know,” he chirped. “He’ll probably want to send a patrol to track it down and chase it out.”
“We could go take a look now,” Birchfall suggested, and Blossomfall nodded.
“There are five of us,” she pointed out. “We should be able to challenge a fox!”
Cherrypaw glanced at her brother with a look that Dovewing couldn’t read. “That’s a good idea,” she mewed. “We’ll go tell Bramblestar and then come find you. Come on.” She flicked her tail at her patrol and bounded downhill. Molepaw followed, then Rosepetal, who glanced back once over her shoulder before vanishing into the bracken.
Something pricked beneath Dovewing’s pelt, as if she should have asked more questions, but Mousewhisker was already running up to the ridge. “Come on!” he yowled. “We can’t let this fox get too far into the territory!”
The rest of the patrol raced after him. Dovewing brought up the rear, still fighting the feeling that something was wrong. Ivypool looked back at her. “Are you okay?” she panted.
Dovewing nodded. “When we get to the top of the ridge, we should stop. I might be able to hear the fox.”
Ivypool slowed down. “Do you think so?”
“I have to try!” Dovewing hissed.
The warriors tore through the trees and scrambled up the last steep incline to the summit of the ridge. “Wait!” Dovewing yowled, and Mousewhisker skidded to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” he called.
“Nothing,” Dovewing puffed. “Let’s just take a moment to listen out for the fox, or pick up a scent trail.” They were close to the border here, and ThunderClan markers hung heavy in the air. Dovewing cast out her senses until her ears hurt. Nothing! Just the panting of the other cats and the rush of wind in the trees. Perhaps the fox is lying still and quiet?