Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 13

Squirrelflight shivered as gray drizzle washed the clearing. It had been two days since she had visited the WindClan camp with Bramblestar. The weather had grown chilly, and she could taste leaf-fall in the air. Around her, the Clan had settled down to share a midday meal. Larksong was eating hungrily beside the fresh-kill pile. Bramblestar shared a squirrel with Birchfall and Hollytuft. Bristlepaw dragged a vole into the apprentices’ den, where Thriftpaw and Flippaw were sheltering from the rain.

Squirrelflight pushed the remains of the shrew she’d been sharing with Millie toward the deaf old she-cat. “You finish it,” she mewed loudly.

“Are you sure?” Millie blinked at her.

“Sure.”

Graystripe nosed his way out of the elders’ den and glanced up at the overcast sky. He fluffed out his fur. “I’m hungry.” He looked toward the fresh-kill pile, where a few mice lay in the mud, and wrinkled his muzzle. “I think I’ll wait to see what this afternoon’s patrol brings in.”

Millie hooked the half-eaten shrew toward him. “Do you want this?”

As Graystripe examined it, paw steps thrummed beyond the thorn tunnel. He lifted his muzzle and glanced toward the entrance.

“Bramblestar!” Finleap charged, breathless, into camp.

Squirrelflight’s pelt bristled in alarm. The young tom looked scared. He stood panting in the clearing, rain dripping around his face. She hurried to meet him as Bramblestar scrambled to his paws. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“Tigerstar!” Finleap struggled to catch his breath. “He’s on the border with Scorchfur and Berryheart. Mistystar’s with them—”

Squirrelflight blinked at him. “Tigerstar and Mistystar?” Her belly tightened. Had they found out about the agreement with WindClan?

Finleap went on. “Mistystar brought Owlnose and Havenpelt with her.”

Bramblestar stopped beside her. Anxiety darkened his gaze. “Two warriors each. It must be serious,” he growled.

“Twigbranch and Thornclaw are escorting them here,” Finleap puffed. “I ran ahead to warn you.”

“Thanks, Finleap.” Bramblestar waved him away with a nod of his muzzle and glanced around the camp. Bristlepaw blinked from the apprentices’ den. Larksong left the mouse he’d been eating and padded closer, his hackles lifting. Birchfall and Hollytuft narrowed their eyes as Bramblestar addressed the Clan. “We’re about to have visitors,” he told them. “Be polite, but be on guard.”

As his Clanmates exchanged anxious glances. Bramblestar looked gravely at Squirrelflight. “I hope they haven’t found out about the border.”

Squirrelflight wished she could reassure him, but she felt sure that their short moment of peace was at an end. “Why else would they come?”

“They brought two warriors each,” Bramblestar mused, hardly listening. “Enough for a show of strength.”

“Not enough to start trouble,” Squirrelflight pointed out.

Bramblestar looked at her. “Not yet.”

As he spoke, the thorn tunnel shivered, and Twigbranch and Thornclaw led Tigerstar, Mistystar, and their warriors into the camp.

Squirrelflight hung back as Bramblestar met them in the middle of the clearing; then she padded to his side. Tigerstar fluffed his damp pelt out against the rain. Mistystar stood beside him, her gaze stony.

“What brings you here?” Bramblestar asked evenly.

Tigerstar twitched his tail. “You know what brings us here.” Behind him, Scorchfur and Berryheart exchanged glances. Owlnose and Havenpelt moved closer to Mistystar.

“Don’t pretend you can’t guess,” the RiverClan leader growled.

Tigerstar flexed his claws. “You’ve reestablished your old border with WindClan.”

“The new border still remains,” Bramblestar told him calmly. “We mark it every day.”

“But you let WindClan hunt on your stretch of moorland,” Tigerstar accused.

Mistystar lifted her chin. “Which is the same as having no border at all.”

Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar. “Our agreement with WindClan is ThunderClan business.”

“We’ve discussed this.” Tigerstar glared at her. “It becomes my business when Mistystar demands that we return RiverClan’s marshland.”

“We don’t control what RiverClan does,” Bramblestar replied stiffly. “WindClan and ThunderClan came to a peaceful agreement. There’s no reason why you and RiverClan can’t sort this out yourselves.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Tigerstar’s ears twitched angrily. “ThunderClan cats usually can’t stop themselves telling other Clans what to do.”

Bramblestar held his gaze. “Do you want me to tell RiverClan you won’t give their land back?”

“No!” Tigerstar lashed his tail. “ShadowClan can fight its own battles.”

“Then why are you here, disturbing our peace?” Bramblestar’s ears twitched.

Squirrelflight looked at him. If he was going to refuse to get involved, she’d follow his lead. “What can we do?”

“Defend your border with WindClan so we can defend ours.” Tigerstar growled. “We need the marshland.”

Mistystar snorted. “ShadowClan was never going to do more with that land than catch a few frogs and butterflies. We can fish there,” she snapped. “The borders are better this way.”

“They might be better for you!” Tigerstar met her gaze, his hackles lifting. “RiverClan didn’t give half its land to SkyClan.”

“ThunderClan gave land to SkyClan too,” she shot back. “They don’t seem to mind.”

Tigerstar swung his muzzle toward Bramblestar. “ThunderClan enjoys stirring up trouble in other Clans. I’m asking you to put an end to it now.”

“The situation is difficult,” Bramblestar conceded. “But StarClan wants unity. I’m not going to fight over borders. Not with you, or with WindClan. They can keep the hunting rights to our stretch of moorland.”

Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. “Then perhaps we should take our land back from SkyClan.”

Squirrelflight’s chest tightened. “You can’t! They need territory, too.”

Tigerstar swished his tail slowly. “Or you could help us drive the Sisters off their land so that SkyClan can move and we’ll all have enough land. ShadowClan has to eat.”

Alarm sparked through Squirrelflight’s pelt. She glanced helplessly at Bramblestar. He mustn’t let Tigerstar push him into war against the Sisters.

Bramblestar hesitated, his pelt ruffling along his spine. His gaze flitted from Tigerstar to Mistystar. “The border between RiverClan and ShadowClan has nothing to do with us. I suggest you settle your dispute yourselves.” His gaze fixed on Tigerstar. “I’d think twice about threatening SkyClan. Leafstar is still deciding whether she wants to move. Intimidation may make her dig her claws in. And ThunderClan will stand with her. SkyClan has been chased away too many times before. This time we won’t sit by and watch. ShadowClan may find itself in a war it cannot win.”

Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

Mistystar peered curiously at Bramblestar. “Have you been making secret alliances with SkyClan as well as WindClan?”

“ThunderClan hasn’t made alliances with any Clan,” Bramblestar growled.

Tigerstar’s ears twitched. “And yet WindClan hunts on your land.” He nodded to Scorchfur and Berryheart. “Come on,” he told them. “We’re wasting our time here.” He turned away, flicking his tail across Mistystar’s muzzle.

She ducked, snarling. “Let’s go,” she told Owlnose and Havenpelt. “Bramblestar clearly doesn’t care about any cat’s borders except his own.”

Squirrelflight stifled a shiver as the RiverClan cats barged past Tigerstar and marched out of camp. Growling, Tigerstar, Scorchfur, and Berryheart followed them. She turned to Bramblestar. “Do you think they’ll fight?”

Bramblestar stared after them darkly. “If they do, it’s not our problem.”

“But we have to do something.”

“Like what?”

Squirrelflight blinked at him nervously. “If they don’t turn on each other, they might turn on SkyClan.”

“I know,” he answered bluntly. “But until Leafstar makes a decision, we can only tread carefully.”

Squirrelflight’s thoughts whirled. “What if there’s a Clan war?”

“I wish I had an answer for you.” Bramblestar looked at her hopelessly, then turned away. He padded back to where he’d left his squirrel and settled heavily beside it. Bending his head, he began to chew on the bedraggled carcass as rain streamed from his whiskers.

Squirrelflight’s heart sank. Was there no solution that didn’t involve war?

“Squirrelflight.” Daisy called from the nursery entrance.

She stiffened. Sparkpelt had moved to the nursery, sharing a nest there with Larksong until the kits were born. She hurried across the clearing. “Is Sparkpelt okay?”

“Sparkpelt’s fine,” Daisy mewed brightly. “She felt the kits move and she wanted to tell you.”

Squirrelflight purred, relieved to hear good news.

“I’m going to get some food,” Daisy told her, and headed toward the fresh-kill pile. Squirrelflight padded to the nursery and squeezed through the brambles into the warm den. She shook out her pelt before heading for Sparkpelt’s nest.

Sparkpelt lay among the ferns, her belly round with kits. She purred as she saw Squirrelflight. “Feel this.” She glanced at her flank.

Squirrelflight touched her nose to Sparkpelt’s belly. Happiness flashed beneath her fur as she felt the kits stir beneath her daughter’s pelt. But longing surged in her chest. She wanted to feel her own kits moving inside her.

Sparkpelt blinked at her, alarm flashing in her eyes. “Is something wrong? You can feel them moving, can’t you?”

“Yes.” Squirrelflight reassured her quickly. Should she explain to Sparkpelt about her grief? “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” she murmured. “I still remember how happy I was when you and Alderheart were born. I was so proud, even prouder of you than I was of my Clan. I miss feeling that way. I wish—”

The entrance shivered as Larksong pushed his way into the nursery. He looked tired, his eyes dull, his fur slicked by the rain. He brightened as he saw Sparkpelt. “How are you?” He slid past Squirrelflight and pressed his nose to his mate’s cheek.

“I’m fine.” She purred happily and licked his ear.

Larksong sat back on his haunches and burped.

Sparkpelt’s whiskers twitched teasingly. “I hope you’re not going to teach our kits those manners.”

“Sorry.” Larksong looked chastened. “I shouldn’t have had that extra mouse. But nobody else seemed to want it, and the hunting patrol will bring fresh prey later.” His mew was husky. Did he have a chill? He dipped his head to Squirrelflight, as though suddenly realizing she was there. “I promise I’ll be the perfect father to your daughter’s kits.”

Squirrelflight purred. “I’m sure you will be.” Sparkpelt was lucky to have such a good mate. “I think you’re going to be very happy.” Her heart ached with fondness, and she wondered how she had even considered telling Sparkpelt how much she wanted kits of her own. Let her enjoy this, she told herself. She doesn’t have to deal with your problems. She’ll have enough to occupy her once the kits are born.

Larksong shivered. “I was coming to lie down. I’ve been feeling tired all morning. I don’t know why. I’ve only been on dawn patrol.” He looked puzzled. “I don’t seem to be able to catch my breath.”

“It’s probably the wet weather,” Squirrelflight suggested. She blinked at him playfully. “You’re going to have to get fit before the kits arrive. They’ll keep you on your paws day and night.”

Larksong purred. “Don’t worry about that. I plan to make sure they have everything they need.” He got to his paws. “I can’t wait to give them their first badger ride.” Padding up and down the den, he glanced over his shoulder. “Can you imagine them up there on my back?” He stopped suddenly.

Alarm sparked in Squirrelflight’s fur as Larksong’s gaze froze. Pain glittered in his eyes, as though he’d been swiped across the muzzle with powerful claws.

Sparkpelt must have seen it too. “Larksong?” Fear edged her mew.

Larksong’s eyes grew suddenly dull. They rolled back as his paws buckled and he dropped to the ground.

“Larksong!” Sparkpelt darted to his side, bristling with horror. Squirrelflight pressed beside her, terror hollowing her belly. Larksong wasn’t moving. His flanks were still. He’s not breathing!

“Stay with him,” she told Sparkpelt. “I’ll fetch a medicine cat.”

She pelted from the den, rain spraying her face as she raced for the medicine den and burst inside. “Help!”

Alderheart looked up sharply from the herbs he was mixing. “What is it?”

“Larksong! He’s collapsed in the nursery.” Squirrelflight fought back panic as Alderheart pelted past her, out of the den. She hurried after him.

Bramblestar looked up from his squirrel. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Larksong! He’s sick!” Squirrelflight pushed her way into the nursery after Alderheart. Fear-scent flooded the den.

Alderheart pressed his ear to Larksong’s chest.

Sparkpelt stared at him, her pelt spiked. “Is he okay?” Her mew came as a sob.

“His heart is beating.” Alderheart sat up. “But we have to get him started breathing again.”

Sparkpelt seemed to freeze. “Will he die?”

Squirrelflight slid in beside her. “Alderheart will do what he can.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sparkpelt was trembling.

Squirrelflight pressed against her. “Breathe,” she told Sparkpelt. “You don’t want this to affect the kits.”

Bramblestar had pushed his way into the den. He stared, his eyes wide.

Alderheart glanced at him. “Fetch Leafpool. She’s in the elders’ den with Millie. Tell her to come quickly. I need help. Now!”

Bramblestar raced out as the dark ginger medicine cat pressed his paws onto Larksong’s flank and began pumping his chest.

Squirrelflight’s paws seemed to freeze as she watched.

Sparkpelt was stiff beside her, gulping juddering breaths as Alderheart worked on Larksong. “Don’t let him die,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let him die.”

Squirrelflight felt time slow as she watched Alderheart press harder and harder, pumping at Larksong’s chest as though trying to shock him into life. He mustn’t die now. He had to see his kits. He’d been so excited. They mustn’t grow up without a father. Suddenly, Larksong gasped. A spasm seemed to grasp him and shake him into a long, trembling breath. Then he lay still. Squirrelflight heard blood roaring in her ears. “Is he alive?”

Alderheart bent his head to Larksong’s chest.

Even before he sat up, Squirrelflight saw Larksong’s chest moving. “He’s breathing,” she whispered. Relief swamped her. She looked at Sparkpelt. “He’s alive!”

Sparkpelt slumped against her. As Squirrelflight moved, her daughter slid to the ground, staring at Larksong with wide, desperate eyes.