“Reena and Bess joined the hunting patrol,” Algernon told him. “Mole wanted to hunt alone.”
“What about Sparrow?”
“He went off with Sandgorse,” Algernon meowed. “They were talking about some tunnel that leads down to the river.”
Poor Sparrow. Tallpaw felt a flash of sympathy. Once Sandgorse got him down a tunnel, he’d talk his ears off about tunnel skills and all the rules about not leaving your tunnelmate and how to hear rabbits on the far side of the moor. He looked at Dawnstripe. “Can we practice battle moves today? In case ShadowClan attacks again.”
“Yes,” Dawnstripe meowed grimly. “I just hope you won’t need them.”
By the end of the session, Tallpaw felt much better. He was going to be the best moor runner WindClan had ever seen! While Sandgorse was grubbing around in muddy holes, he would be defending his Clan. I’ll avenge Brackenwing’s death. He curled his claws and imagined throwing the body of a ShadowClan warrior in front of his Clan. They’d have to forgive him then.
“Can we hunt?” he growled. He wanted to feel flesh beneath his claws. “The prey heap is empty.”
Dawnstripe was deep in conversation with Algernon. He’d watched the practice session and now he leaned back on the grass, basking in the sun. “You’ve lived with Twolegs?” Dawnstripe leaned closer to the rogue. “What was it like?”
“Twolegs are funny creatures,” Algernon told her.
“Dawnstripe!” Tallpaw interrupted. “Can we hunt?”
“You go.” Dawnstripe flicked her tail. “We’ll catch up.” Tallpaw shrugged and headed downslope. “No one’s hunted the burrows by the gorge in a while!” Dawnstripe called after him. “There should be plenty of prey there.”
“Okay!” Tallpaw called over his shoulder as he pushed through the heather. “I’ll see you there.” He followed a stale rabbit track and emerged from the heather at the top of a rise. The land sloped away past a swath of gorse before flattening out to meet the edge of the gorge. Tallpaw could just make out the dimples where rabbit burrows had been dug close to the surface. Tallpaw pounded toward them. The ground thrummed beneath his paws, solid, then hollow, then solid again.
Tunnels. Tallpaw snorted. Stupid tunnels.
He pulled up as he neared the gorge, stepping lightly so he didn’t frighten any rabbits that might be grazing near the burrows. He must be on top of the gorge tunnel by now. Was Sandgorse down there, boring the ears off poor Sparrow? He paused, feeling the ground tremble beneath his paws. Were they digging? He crouched and pressed his belly to the grass, feeling for the tremors.
The fur rose on his spine. He could feel rumbling deep in the earth. It stirred memories of the flood. Was a tunnel collapsing?
Fear flaring, Tallpaw raced for the burrows. He might be able to hear what was happening through one of the openings. Surely Sandgorse wouldn’t take Sparrow anywhere dangerous? He was too experienced to lead an untrained cat into an unstable tunnel. Tallpaw slowed to a halt, jerking around, glancing from burrow to burrow. Poking his head into one, he heard the earth roar. He stiffened as the ground shook beneath his paws. Terror uncoiled in his belly.
Then claws scrabbled behind him. Tallpaw whirled around as a mud-drenched cat burst out from a rabbit hole. “Sparrow!” He recognized the rogue’s eyes through his filthy pelt. Tallpaw glanced past him, expecting Sandgorse to race out behind. But he only heard the growl of earth folding in on itself, crushing air and light and everything else inside. . . .
“Where’s Sandgorse?” Tallpaw stared at Sparrow. “Wasn’t he with you?”
Sparrow glanced back down the hole, flanks heaving. “I lost him.”
“You lost him?” Tallpaw blinked. “You left him behind?”
“Too much water,” Sparrow panted. “And mud.”
“You can’t leave a cat underground!”
There was a flash of movement on the horizon. Dawnstripe and Algernon were heading toward them.
“Sparrow!” Algernon’s pelt spiked. “You’re soaked! Are you okay?”
“I have to find my father!” Tallpaw barged past Sparrow and plunged down the hole. Darkness engulfed him. The sour smell of river water and soil flooded his nose. He raced forward, flattening his ears against the roaring earth. Hurtling along the tunnel, he crashed against one wall, then another, running blindly, panic sending his thoughts whirling.
“Sandgorse!” His yowl echoed in the darkness. The soil around him was growing looser all the time. The tunnel narrowed and Tallpaw tripped over a pile of earth. Scrabbling over it, he found himself squeezing through an ever-tightening gap. “Sandgorse!” Earth turned to mud around him. Now he was slithering though the tunnel like a snake. “Where are you?” The rumbling was growing louder. The earth was still moving. “I’m coming, Sandgorse!” Tallpaw hauled himself forward, scrabbling with his hind legs, pushing desperately on. A thunderous rumble swept toward him and the floor of the tunnel heaved beneath his paws. Mud and water filled his muzzle and terror burst his heart as the world turned black.
CHAPTER 18
Pain jolted Tallpaw awake. He was bumping over stones, being dragged from behind. Rocks jabbed his belly and scraped his legs and chin. Someone was hauling him out of the tunnel. He struggled, trying to find his paws, but claws clasped his flanks and heaved him harder. Suddenly fresh air rushed around him and he was on soft grass. He gulped in air, fresh and sweet.
“What happened?” Tallpaw coughed, spitting out mud. “Is this StarClan?” He tried to remember what he had been doing before the darkness came, but his thoughts were spinning too fast. It was like trying to catch butterflies in the wind.
A gentle paw touched his shoulder. “It’s all right; you’re safe now.” Dawnstripe was crouching beside him. “Woollytail pulled you out.”
“Out of where?” Tallpaw struggled to sit up.
Dawnstripe sniffed him anxiously. “Does anything feel broken?”
Tallpaw felt his pelt stinging where it had torn on stones, but he could move each of his legs. “I’m okay.”
Woollytail paced in front of him, his gray-and-white pelt turned completely brown with smeared mud. “We’ll see about that.” He glanced at Tallpaw. “You should get your cuts and scratches seen to. Underground mud can be bad for you. Wounds infect easily.”
“Hush.” Dawnstripe waved Woollytail away with her tail. “He’s already scared enough.”
Scared? Tallpaw’s legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto his belly. Why would I be scared? Hazily he saw Algernon sitting a little way off. Sparrow was lying on the grass beside him, his short fur spiked and filthy. Were we both underground? Tallpaw wondered.
Mistmouse squeezed out of a rabbit hole, her pelt slicked with mud. Algernon caught her eye. “Any luck?” Mistmouse shook her head.
Tallpaw’s thoughts cleared with a jolt. “Sandgorse!” That’s why he’d gone down the tunnel. “Where is he?”
Woollytail stopped pacing. His eyes were ominously dark. He turned as Plumclaw scrambled out of a second burrow. “Did you get through?” Woollytail asked.
Plumclaw shook her head. “We hit rock. Hickorynose is still trying but there’s no way to dig past it.”
Tallpaw’s heart began to pound. “If he’s still down there, you have to get him out.”
Plumclaw crossed the grass toward him. “We’ve tried, Tallpaw, but the whole tunnel network collapsed. Floodwater’s in every branch and the roofs are still caving in.” She thrust her nose close to him, blinking away wet soil. “Another mouse-length and you’d have drowned, too.”
Tallpaw stiffened. “Sandgorse drowned?”
Plumclaw leaned back. “We haven’t found his body, but there’s no way he could still be alive down there.”
“No!” Tallpaw tried to struggle to his paws, but he was shaking too much.
Woollytail glanced at Mistmouse. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
“We’ve tried everything to get to him,” she meowed, ears flat. “He’s down there for good.
”
“Maybe Sparrow can help!” Tallpaw stared at the rogue. Sparrow lifted his mud-streaked head. “Where did you last see Sandgorse?” Tallpaw demanded. “Can you lead the tunnelers there?”
“The tunnels are blocked,” Woollytail reminded him.
“But if you know where to look, you might be able to dig through,” Tallpaw persisted. “I’ll dig through myself.”
Dawnstripe pressed him back with a paw. “Tallpaw,” she murmured softly. “If Woollytail can’t reach him, no one can. Sandgorse is with StarClan now.”
Tallpaw’s hackles rose and anger surged in his chest. He glared at Sparrow. “Why did you leave him? You should have stayed with him! Don’t you know that’s what you do underground? You stay with your tunnelmate.”
Sparrow pushed himself to his paws. “I’m no tunneler. I don’t have partners. Not aboveground. Not belowground.” His gaze hardened. “I was lucky I made it out. There was no way I could have helped Sandgorse. He’s the one with all the skills. He shouldn’t have taken me down there. He should have known it was too dangerous.”
Tallpaw stared, breath catching in his throat. Sparrow was blaming Sandgorse for what happened? He stared at the other tunnelers, willing one of them to come to Sandgorse’s defense. How dare this rogue blame his father for the accident?
“Woollytail?” Tallpaw croaked to the old tunneler.
Woollytail stared at his paws. “Sandgorse answered for his recklessness,” he muttered.
“Are you saying this was his fault?” Tallpaw gasped.
Woollytail avoided his eye. “Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s get you to Hawkheart. Those wounds’ll need seeing to.”
Dawnstripe shoved her nose under Tallpaw’s flank and heaved him to his paws. Algernon darted over and pressed against his shoulder. With Dawnstripe pushing on the other side, Tallpaw managed to stagger forward. As they climbed the slope, he felt strength beginning to seep back into his paws, though his breath was hard to catch. He stopped and coughed up more muddy water, then moved on, thankful for Algernon and Dawnstripe’s help. He could hear paw steps behind and looked back to see Woollytail helping Sparrow back to camp. Tallpaw growled under his breath. How could Woollytail help the cat that had killed his tunnelmate?
He staggered wearily through the entrance. Aspenfall paused on a tussock and stared at the mud-streaked cats. “Any news?”
Palebird hurried out of the nursery. “Did you find him?”
Tallpaw stared blankly at his mother.
“No,” Dawnstripe answered for him.
“Sandgorse!” As Palebird collapsed, Meadowslip hurried to her side.
Tallpaw closed his eyes. “He’s dead,” he whispered. His legs crumpled beneath him and choking mud seemed to swamp him once more. He could feel the suffocating weight of earth and water, and he imagined his father thrashing against the flood as it grew heavier and heavier until at last he was pinned without light or air, lungs screaming, heart bursting.
“Tallpaw?” Hawkheart leaned over him. “Swallow these leaves.”
A pungent scent wafted beneath his nose. Numbly he lapped up the green specks beside his mouth.
“Bring more thyme, Barkpaw,” Hawkheart called. “And some of the poultice we made for the wounded warriors.”
“Are you all right, Sparrow?” Bess’s anxious mew sounded nearby. Tallpaw opened his eyes and saw the black-and-white cat pacing around the brown warrior. Reena was sniffing at his filthy pelt.
“I’ll live.” Sparrow shook out his fur, showering his companions with muddy water.
Hawkheart turned his head. “All Sparrow needs is a good wash,” he growled. “Help him get cleaned up.” He nosed Tallpaw onto his side and began sniffing his scratches. “Great StarClan, what a mess.”
“I had to drag him out,” Woollytail meowed.
“He’s pretty shredded,” Hawkheart muttered. “But no deep wounds.”
Paw steps pattered closer and a wad of herbs landed beside Hawkheart. “Is he okay?” Tallpaw recognized Barkpaw’s mew.
“He’ll be fine.” Hawkheart began to lap herbs into a wound on Tallpaw’s pad. Tallpaw winced at the pain but held still. “Go and soak moss in the spring,” Hawkheart told Barkpaw. “Plenty of it. I want you to wash as much of this mud out of Tallpaw’s fur as you can.”
The medicine cat’s mew faded into buzzing, and darkness swallowed Tallpaw. Hawkheart poked him sharply. “Stay awake. You’ve had a shock. You can sleep later.” He began pressing the herbs more firmly into Tallpaw’s wounds. The pain jerked Tallpaw into wakefulness.
“These will heal in no time,” Hawkheart promised. “We just have to get you clean.” He nosed some more pungent thyme toward Tallpaw. “Keep chewing this. It’ll help.”
Tallpaw lapped up another tongueful of shredded leaves and began chewing. His thoughts started to clear. By the time Barkpaw returned and began sluicing his pelt with soaked moss, he was able to turn and watch.
“I’m sorry about Sandgorse.” Barkpaw didn’t lift his eyes from what he was doing.
“I’m sorry about Brackenwing,” Tallpaw meowed.
Barkpaw didn’t reply, just kept washing Tallpaw’s pelt. The long, cool strokes lulled Tallpaw and eased his pain.
“Do you want some food?” When Barkpaw had gone to rinse out the mud-filled moss, Reena clambered over a tussock and sat down beside Tallpaw. “You haven’t eaten all day.” She twitched her tail toward the prey heap, stacked high with fresh-kill.
Tallpaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”
“Then I could just sit with you,” Reena offered.
Tallpaw shook his head. He didn’t want company. His pain was all on the inside now, too deep for anyone to touch. He could see Palebird outside the nursery staring into space, her eyes glazed. For a moment Tallpaw understood why she always seemed so distant. If she didn’t let herself feel anything, she might protect herself from her grief for Finchkit. Now he wanted to do the same. “I’d rather be alone,” he mumbled.
“Are you sure?” Reena leaned close, the scent of rabbit on her breath.
“I’m sure.” Tallpaw watched her pad away to the Hunting Stones, where Bess, Algernon, and Mole were tucking grass around Sparrow.
Bess pulled up a pawful of moss from beneath one of the rocks and packed it beneath Sparrow’s shoulder. “Is that more comfortable?”
Sparrow wriggled. “Much better,” he purred.
Tallpaw growled under his breath. Anger felt better than grief. He watched the sun sink below the heather. It glowed on Dawnstripe’s pelt as she padded toward him. A mouse dangled from her jaws. She stopped beside him and dropped it at his paws. “You should eat something,” she meowed.
How did Dawnstripe think he could eat? Didn’t she know he’d just lost his father? “I told Reena: I’m not hungry,” Tallpaw muttered.
“It won’t always feel this bad,” Dawnstripe promised.
He glared at her. “Yes, it will!” he snapped. “I’ll never feel happy again. StarClan doesn’t want me to be happy. They should have taken me, not Finchkit.” He glared across the camp at Palebird. “Maybe Sandgorse wouldn’t be dead if my sister were alive.”
Dawnstripe stiffened. “Don’t say things like that!”
“I’ve done everything wrong,” Tallpaw snarled. “If I’d insisted on being a tunneling apprentice, Sandgorse would have been exploring the gorge tunnel with me, not Sparrow. I wouldn’t have left him behind.”
“You’re upset.” Dawnstripe got to her paws. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ll come and check on you later, when you’ve had some rest.” She padded away and settled down beside Redclaw and Appledawn, but her gaze flashed anxiously toward Tallpaw as she shared tongues with her Clanmates.
Appledawn’s voice carried on the breeze. “Sandgorse should never have taken Sparrow down those tunnels.”
Tallpaw sat up.
“Heatherstar said they were dangerous,” Redclaw agreed.
Tallpaw bared his teeth at the taw
ny warrior. “Sparrow made him go down there!” he hissed across the clearing. “The nosy rogue wouldn’t stop pestering Sandgorse until he showed him the tunnels! And then he left Sandgorse down there to die!” Rage pulsed like lightning in his paws.
On the other side of the clearing, Sparrow stood up. “I’m sorry your father is dead, Tallpaw. But he told me it was safe when it wasn’t. How was I supposed to know what would happen? I’m no tunneler. I believed him. When the river burst through, I didn’t have time to save him. I barely saved myself.”
“If there was time to save yourself, there was time to save Sandgorse,” Tallpaw snapped. “You left him to die.”
“Enough!” Heatherstar leaped to her paws and marched across the clearing. “The Clan has seen too much grief this moon. Go to your nest, Tallpaw. Words won’t change anything now.”
Tallpaw met her gaze. He was trembling with fury.
“Go,” Heatherstar repeated.
Tallpaw glanced around at his Clanmates. They stared at him, frozen in shock. Prey hung from Cloudrunner’s mouth. Lilywhisker’s eyes were round. Flamepelt sat stiffly beside her. Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Doespring blinked at him like birds lined along a branch. Shrewpaw narrowed his eyes while Barkpaw sat like stone at the entrance to the medicine den.
Whipping his tail, Tallpaw turned and stalked to his nest. He climbed in and thrust his nose under his paw. When sleep came, it was filled with dreams. Mud pressed around him, sucking at his fur; water dragged him through endless tunnels, and in brief flashes of light from somewhere above his head, Tallpaw saw Sandgorse, mouth open, shrieking for help, only to be hauled away by another surge of mud.
“Tallpaw.” Breath touched his ear. Tallpaw jerked up his head. Barkpaw ducked away. “How are you?”
Beyond him, Tallpaw could see the camp through the gorse opening of his den. A bright moon lit the tussocks. “Is it nearly dawn?”
“Not yet.” Barkpaw reached into Tallpaw’s nest. Tallpaw smelled the tang of ointment. “I just want to put some herbs on your wounds,” Barkpaw told him. “Hawkheart’s worried about infection.”