Darkest Night

CHAPTER 17

Alderheart unrolled a bundle of catmint.

Jayfeather’s nose twitched. “It’s starting to rot.”

Alderheart examined the leaves. They were dark at the edges where they had begun to wilt. “Perhaps the rain will stop today.”

“You said that yesterday.” Jayfeather pulled a roll of comfrey from the herb store. Its pungent smell filled the medicine den.

Alderheart frowned. “Dried herbs shouldn’t smell that strong.”

“They’re not dry,” Jayfeather grunted. “Nothing in the whole forest is dry anymore.”

Briarlight shifted in her nest. “Surely the rain must stop soon?”

“I hope so.” Alderheart padded anxiously to the den entrance. Outside, the rain pounded the camp. A large puddle had swallowed the clearing, and ThunderClan had begun piling mud and sticks outside their dens, hoping to keep the water from seeping inside if the puddle grew larger.

His Clanmates hid in their dens. Only Graystripe was outside, wading through the puddle to sniff at the drenched fresh-kill pile. His thick fur was plastered to his body. He glanced at Alderheart and lifted his tail halfheartedly. “Nice weather—if you’re a duck.”

“I guess.” Alderheart blinked at him anxiously as the old tom lifted a dripping mouse from the pile and trudged back to the elders’ den.

Bramblestar and Squirrelflight were out, hunting with Brightheart, Sparkpelt, and Berrynose. Prey was hard to sniff out in this weather, and he wondered how much they’d bring back.

He saw the thorn barrier quiver as Ivypool led Thornclaw, Lionblaze, and Fernsong into camp. Alderheart ducked from the medicine den and splashed through the puddle to greet them. “Did you find any sign of Dovewing?”

Ivypool blinked at him, rain streaming around her face. “Nothing,” she meowed heavily. “Rowanstar and Leafstar say that no one has seen or smelled her.”

“Her scent would be hard to pick up in weather like this.” Alderheart looked up at the sky. The dark sky must not herald a storm. Was this the beginning of the storm StarClan had warned them about? Was Dovewing’s disappearance something to do with it?

Lionblaze interrupted his thoughts. “Twigpaw told us she saw Dovewing talking with Tigerheart on SkyClan land.”

“When?” Worry pricked Alderheart’s belly. Was Tigerheart the reason Dovewing had left?

“A quarter moon ago,” Ivypool mewed.

Thornclaw and Lionblaze exchanged glances.

Ivypool frowned. “We have to find her before she does anything stupid.”

No one responded. Instead, Thornclaw turned his muzzle toward the nursery. “I’m going to see if Blossomfall and the kits are warm enough.” The warrior headed toward the thick bramble bush and disappeared inside. Lionblaze padded to the warriors’ den.

Ivypool looked anxiously at Fernsong. “Do they think she’s a traitor?”

Fernsong touched his muzzle to Ivypool’s cheek. “Dovewing could never be a traitor. Lionblaze knows that more than anyone. She helped him fight the Dark Forest, remember?”

Ivypool’s eyes clouded. “I just hope she’s safe.”

As she spoke, pebbles clattered down from the top of the cliff and showered Highledge.

Alderheart looked up nervously. Rainwater was streaming down the rock face. Ferns and brambles sagged over the top, oozing muddy water from their roots. The earth groaned.

Ivypool’s fur bristled. “Perhaps we should evacuate the camp.” She glanced at the fallen beech where the elders’ den nestled beneath dead branches. “Weather like this washed that tree from the top of the cliff. It killed Longtail and crippled Briarlight.”

Alderheart looked toward the medicine den. It seemed safe, tucked into a hollow in the cliff face. But its roof opened to the sky. Could rocks fall inside? “I’ll go and ask Jayfeather if we should move Briarlight to the warriors’ den until the weather clears.”

As he spoke, the cliff top groaned again. His heart lurched as a chunk of rock shifted at the top. With a creak, it broke away from the cliff face and dropped like a diving hawk, pulling soil and plants after it. Alderheart leaped for the edge of camp as it smashed onto Highledge, earth and stones cascading around it.

Dazed, he looked at Ivypool and Fernsong. They’d dived clear and were crouching against the walls of the elders’ den.

Ivypool’s eyes were wide with panic. She lifted her muzzle as cats scrambled into the clearing. “Clear the camp!”

Lionblaze shot from the warriors’ den, Brackenfur at his heels. He looked at the cliff, where earth hung and bushes dangled over the edge. Cracks snaked through the rock below the rim. The crack of splitting stone rang across the camp. Lionblaze’s amber gaze hardened. “Brackenfur.” He jerked his muzzle toward his denmate. “Make sure the warriors’ den and the elders’ den are cleared. Get everyone to the lakeshore.”

Brackenfur nodded. “Cinderheart! Bumblestripe!” He called to his Clanmates, who stumbled, wide-eyed, into the flooded clearing, and repeated Lionblaze’s order.

They nodded curtly. Cinderheart disappeared inside the den while Bumblestripe stood outside and nosed warriors toward the thorn entrance tunnel.

Brackenfur called to Poppyfrost. “Get Graystripe and Millie out of camp,” he ordered. As Poppyfrost raced toward the fallen beech, he ran to the entrance. “Head for the lakeshore,” he yowled as Whitewing, Lilyheart, and Stormcloud streamed past him.

Ivypool and Fernsong waited at the nursery entrance. Thornclaw was already scrambling out, Eaglekit swinging from his jaws. Daisy followed him, running for the camp entrance as Blossomfall passed Shellkit and Stemkit through the opening in the brambles. Fernsong and Ivypool grabbed the kits by the scruff and raced away. As Blossomfall snatched up Plumkit and followed, an ominous crack sounded from the cliff top.

Alderheart stared, frozen with terror, as a lump of stone peeled away and fell toward the clearing. Lionblaze raced at him, shouldering him backward until he was pinned against the thorn barrier. Behind him, rubble and earth exploded as the stone hit Highledge and rolled into the clearing. It sent a wave of muddy water sweeping across the camp, drenching the fleeing cats.

Icy cold pierced Alderheart’s pelt, shocking him from his panicked stupor. “Jayfeather!” He raced for the medicine den. “Briarlight!”

Lionblaze hared after him as he scrabbled over the mound of rubble at the heart of the camp. The golden tom called to his Clanmates. “Cloudtail! Birchfall! Snowbush! Come, help us!”

Alderheart burst through the lichen that draped the entrance to the medicine den. Jayfeather was shielding Briarlight, stretched over her as mud and stones showered down from the cliff top.

The earth above the den seemed to roar as more stone and mud cascaded into the camp.

Lionblaze shoved Jayfeather out of the way and grabbed Briarlight by her scruff. He dragged her from her nest. Birchfall ducked under her hindquarters and lifted her onto his shoulders. Between them, the two warriors carried her out of the den.

“My herbs!” Jayfeather screeched.

“Leave them!” Cloudtail yowled.

“They’re half-rotten anyway.” Alderheart tried to nudge Jayfeather toward the den entrance. But the blind medicine cat dug his claws into the ground. “We’ve been gathering them for a moon. They have to see us through leaf-bare.” He glared at Alderheart and Cloudtail.

Snowbush darted to the crack in the cliff where the herbs were stored and began dragging them out, bundle after bundle. Cloudtail snatched up as many as he could hold in his jaws. Jayfeather grabbed a mouthful. Alderheart pawed the wads of catmint together and gripped them between his teeth. He turned to follow Cloudtail and Jayfeather out of the den.

Snowbush was still hauling out herbs.

“Leave them!” Alderheart tried to make himself heard through the leaves blocking his mouth.

Snowbush paused and blinked at him.

Alderheart beckoned the white warrior away with a panicked flick of his tail. Earth and stones were falling more heavily into the den. In a moment, they might be submerged in mud. Snowbush grabbed a fat bundle of thyme and mallow and headed for the entrance.

Alderheart slid ahead of him and raced across the camp.

Poppyfrost and Cherryfall were herding Millie and Graystripe through the thorn tunnel. Lionblaze waited there, herbs dangling from his jaws, his gaze scanning the clearing. Alderheart and Snowbush were the last cats left. Lionblaze beckoned them, his eyes glittering urgently. Alderheart saw him glance at the cliff top, terror swamping his gaze. He slowed and turned, looking up.

A massive piece of stone was breaking away from the cliff face. It seemed to slip like ice and drop toward the clearing. Soil, bushes, and stones showered around it. Time seemed to slow as Alderheart watched. Then he felt Snowbush’s muzzle shove him from behind. Lionblaze hooked Alderheart’s scruff with an outstretched paw and dragged him forward as the stone hit the clearing, splitting the air with a roar as it shattered into countless pieces.

The rush of air knocked Alderheart into Lionblaze. He dropped his herbs as he landed and waited for the blast of stone against his pelt. Earth showered around him. A wave of muddy water engulfed him. Then the camp fell silent except for the steady pounding of the rain.

Alderheart lifted his head.

Lionblaze groaned beside him and heaved himself to his paws. “Are you hurt?”

Alderheart moved, surprised to feel no pain. He pushed himself up shakily. “Snowbush.” His mew was thick with mud. He spat it out and glanced back.

A white scrap of fur lay beside the heap of mud and rubble.

Lionblaze raced toward it. “Snowbush!”

Alderheart scrambled to Lionblaze’s side. “Is he breathing?” He pushed past the golden tom and pressed his ear to Snowbush’s mouth. There was no sound. “Quick!” Alderheart jerked his nose to the rubble, which buried Snowbush’s hindquarters. “Pull him clear.”

Lionblaze thrust his muzzle beneath Snowbush’s lolling head and grabbed his scruff. With a grunt, he heaved him clear of the debris and laid him at the edge of the clearing.

Alderheart rolled the white warrior onto his back and thumped his paws against his chest. Pressing them against his ribs, he pushed down and released, then pushed down again. I have to get him breathing again. “Fetch help,” he told Lionblaze.

Lionblaze stared blankly.

“Hurry!” Alderheart growled.

Lionblaze turned and raced from the camp.

Alderheart pushed harder against Snowbush’s chest. Feeling his way down, he pushed his paws beneath Snowbush’s ribs and pushed again, grunting with the effort.

Snowbush jerked and spewed up muddy water.

Hope flashed in Alderheart’s belly. He ran his paws over the tom’s mud-smeared pelt, feeling for broken bones. He stiffened as he ran his pads down his hind leg. A bump betrayed a jagged crack in the bone.

Snowbush opened his eyes blearily, blinking against the rain that soaked his face.

“You’re safe,” Alderheart told him. “But your hind leg is broken. Lionblaze has gone to fetch help.”

As he spoke, Lionblaze raced back through the entrance. Molewhisker, Birchfall, and Larksong followed, Lilyheart behind them. Her eyes sparked with anguish when she saw Snowbush. She slid past her Clanmates and crouched beside her mate. He seemed small, his fur slicked by rain and mud, his eyes glittering with pain.

“He’s okay,” Alderheart told her. He wished Jayfeather were here. “His leg is broken, but that’s all.” He knew he wasn’t telling her the whole truth: that for a moment Snowbush had stopped breathing, and that there might be worse damage beneath his pelt than a broken bone.

“Let’s get him away from here.” Lilyheart looked fearfully at the cliff top.

“Be gentle,” Alderheart cautioned as Lionblaze and Birchfall crouched on either side of their injured Clanmate.

“I can walk.” Snowbush rolled over and heaved himself to his paws, letting out a low groan. Lionblaze and Birchfall pressed against either side of him, lifting him as he limped weakly toward the camp entrance, holding his broken leg clear of the ground. Molewhisker and Lilyheart followed, keeping close.

Larksong glanced around the camp, his eyes wide with disbelief. Alderheart followed his gaze numbly. Highledge was hidden beneath a pile of dirt and stone. Rubble covered the clearing and reached to the edges of the camp. Mud and twigs plastered every den. Plants and bushes, dragged down by the mudslide, stuck out like wounded limbs from the debris. Stones blocked the entrance to the medicine den.

Alderheart looked at the storm-black clouds and let the rain wash the mud from his face. “Will it ever stop?” he murmured.

Larksong looked at him hopefully. “Maybe this was the storm StarClan promised. Maybe it’s over now.”

“Perhaps,” Alderheart breathed. Or perhaps it’s only just begun.