Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 16

Leaves, green and brittle, drifted at the roots of the oak trees. They rustled in the wind as Squirrelflight, Jayfeather, and Alderheart crossed the border and headed home through ThunderClan territory. Squirrelflight glanced over her shoulder. Strikestone had turned away, but Dovewing was still watching them through narrowed eyes. Squirrelflight used to wonder if the former ThunderClan warrior felt a pang of regret when she met her old Clanmates, but it seemed that every hair on Dovewing’s pelt was ShadowClan now.

“I don’t think they know anything about Larksong’s sickness.” Alderheart’s mew jerked her from her thoughts. “Puddleshine had no idea what could have caused it. He was scared his Clanmates would catch it.”

Relief washed Squirrelflight’s pelt. The sickness had nothing to do with ShadowClan. At least now it wouldn’t mean war. “Cloverfoot was surprised, and I didn’t notice any of her Clanmates looking guilty.” She glanced at Jayfeather. “What do you think?”

“I can’t read thoughts anymore,” Jayfeather grunted. “But Tigerstar wasn’t hiding anything. I could hear it in his mew. ShadowClan had nothing to do with Larksong’s illness. He must have picked up the infection in the forest.”

As he spoke, a pile of leaves shivered in front of them. Squirrelflight pricked her ears. Prey was rustling beneath it. She stopped, signaling with a flick of her tail for Jayfeather and Alderheart to wait. They paused beside her as she opened her mouth. Mouse-scent touched her tongue. “This was where Larksong was hunting before he got sick.” Her pelt prickled. She glanced at the medicine cats. “Would you be able to tell if a mouse was tainted by examining it?”

Alderheart blinked at her. “I don’t know.”

“We could try,” Jayfeather mewed. “But you’d have to catch one first.”

“Okay.” Squirrelflight dropped into a hunting crouch and crept forward, her belly brushing the earth. The leaves rustled again. She pictured the mouse underneath the pile, fixing with her gaze the place where it moved. Tensing, she bunched the muscles in her hind legs and leaped. She slammed her paws into the pile. Leaves exploded around her, fluttering to the ground as she jabbed her paws deep, feeling for soft flesh with outstretched claws. She hooked something warm. It wriggled in her grasp and squealed. The mouse. She tugged it out and, pinning it to the ground, gave a killing bite. Then she spat out the blood and flung the dead mouse toward Jayfeather and Alderheart. “Take a look.” She scraped her tongue through her fur to clean any infection off it. “Can you see anything strange?”

Jayfeather ran his paw slowly over the mouse. “It feels okay. How does it look?” He turned his blind gaze on Alderheart.

“Its eyes are clear.” Alderheart told him. “Its pelt is clean and smooth. I can’t see any blisters or scabs. It looks healthy.”

“It might be healthy.” Squirrelflight padded to join them. “It’s unlikely we found a tainted one first try. But we might be lucky.”

“I don’t know if finding a poisonous mouse is lucky.” Alderheart wrinkled his nose.

“Let’s check inside.” Jayfeather curled his claws into the carcass and tore it open. He sniffed at its innards. “It smells good.”

Alderheart peered closer. “Everything looks pink and healthy.”

Jayfeather sat back on his haunches. “Either we’ve killed a healthy mouse, or this sickness is impossible to detect.”

Squirrelflight frowned, worry worming beneath her pelt. “Or Larksong’s sickness wasn’t caused by a mouse.” She felt suddenly exhausted and sat down. Her head swam.

Alderheart looked at her sharply. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She gazed at him blearily. Tightness gripped her chest. She stiffened, alarmed. Did she have the same sickness as Larksong?

“Let’s rest here for a while.” Jayfeather padded toward her. He sniffed her muzzle. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not yet,” she told him, dropping onto her belly. Weariness dragged at her bones. “I felt queasy this morning.”

Jayfeather padded around her, sniffing her pelt. “You smell healthy. Are you expecting kits?”

She stiffened. Could it be true? Hope flashed beneath her pelt. Had she been arguing with Bramblestar all this time unaware that she was carrying his kits? She frowned, doubtful. Her last litter hadn’t made her feel like this. She’d felt stronger than ever when she’d been carrying Alderheart and Sparkpelt. And yet perhaps this time was different. If she was expecting kits, she wasn’t ready for Jayfeather and Alderheart to know.

“Are you?” Jayfeather repeated, his blind blue gaze fixed on her.

“No,” she mewed quickly. “I’m probably just hungry.” The dizziness was wearing off and she could breathe deeply again. “I’m starting to feel better.”

“You should eat when we get back,” Jayfeather advised.

Alderheart padded closer, anxiety glittering in his gaze. “Perhaps you’re just tired,” he meowed hopefully.

“Yes.” She blinked at him. “That’s probably what it is.” She got to her paws and shook out her pelt. There was no point in worrying. “Let’s get back to camp and tell them about ShadowClan.”

Jayfeather padded beside her, turning his muzzle toward her from time to time as though worried.

“I’m feeling fine,” she told him as they neared the camp. “Don’t mention this to any cat. Sparkpelt has enough to worry about.”

Jayfeather wasn’t listening. His ears had swiveled toward the camp entrance. Alarm prickled through the fur along his spine. “Something’s wrong.”

Squirrelflight’s heart quickened as he darted forward and ducked through the thorn tunnel.

She hurried after him. “What is it?”

As she burst into camp, she heard anxious murmuring. Jayfeather was already haring toward the medicine den, Alderheart at his heels. Squirrelflight quickly scanned the camp. Blossomfall and Ivypool were clustered around Lilyheart, their eyes dark with worry. Thornclaw and Berrynose leaned close to each other, talking in hushed voices at the edge of the clearing. Bristlepaw, Thriftpaw, and Flippaw sat like owls, watching their Clanmates in wide-eyed silence as Twigbranch paced distractedly below the Highledge.

Finleap hurried to meet her. “You’re back.” His eyes glittered with alarm.

“What’s happened?” Panic shrilled through Squirrelflight’s fur. “Is it Larksong? Is he …” Dead? She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

Finleap stared at her wordlessly.

It must be worse! Squirrelflight felt sick. “Sparkpelt?” Had the kits come? Had there been complications with the birth? Horror swamped her as Finleap nodded slowly.

“She’s sick,” he mewed.

Bramblestar pushed his way out of the medicine den. His eyes flashed as he saw Squirrelflight and he hurried across the clearing. “Don’t be alarmed,” he meowed as he neared. “She’s a strong cat.”

“What happened?” The breath caught in Squirrelflight’s throat.

Bramblestar stopped in front of her, his eyes as round as moons. “She went to rest in the nursery,” he told her. “She’d been complaining of a tight chest. I went to check on her and found she wasn’t breathing.”

The ground seemed to sway beneath Squirrelflight’s paws. “Like Larksong.”

“I fetched Leafpool,” Bramblestar went on. “She got her breathing again, and we took her to the medicine den. Leafpool’s with her now. She’s unconscious, but her breathing is fine. If she has the same sickness as Larksong, it doesn’t seem to have affected her as badly.”

“But she stopped breathing!” Squirrelflight stared at him.

“Her heartbeat is strong,” Bramblestar told her. “And the kits are still moving.”

Squirrelflight’s thoughts whirled. “What if you hadn’t gone to check on her? What if she’d died without anyone realizing she was sick?”

Bramblestar thrust his muzzle against her cheek and held it there. “She didn’t die,” he meowed steadily. “I checked on her and she’s alive.”

Squirrelflight leaned against him, grateful for his warmth. She felt cold to the bone and fought to stop herself shivering. “Can I see her?” She drew away and looked deep into Bramblestar’s eyes.

“Of course.” His gaze shimmered for a moment; then he looked away.

Squirrelflight hurried across the clearing. She pushed through the trailing brambles, her heart racing. Sparkpelt was curled up in a nest beside Larksong’s. Leafpool sat beside her. Alderheart watched anxiously as Jayfeather touched his nose to Sparkpelt’s fur.

The blind medicine cat drew away, frowning. “I’ve never known a sickness that doesn’t smell like sickness.” He shook out his pelt, then nodded to Alderheart, as though coming to a decision. “We’re going to check on every cat in the Clan,” he told him. “If any of them is tired, or has difficulty breathing, we’ll send them to the medicine den. That way we can stop it spreading.” He glanced at Leafpool. “Okay?”

Leafpool nodded. “It’s a good plan.”

As Jayfeather led Alderheart out of the den, Squirrelflight met Leafpool’s gaze. “You saved her life.” Her heart ached with gratitude.

Leafpool dipped her head. “Bramblestar is the one who found her.”

Squirrelflight felt a rush of affection for her mate. It was comforting to know that, whatever had happened between them, he was always there for their kits. She padded to Sparkpelt’s nest. Her daughter looked suddenly small among the bracken fronds. Squirrelflight bent to touch her nose to Sparkpelt’s fur, but Leafpool put out a paw. “Don’t get too close,” she warned. “Until we know what’s causing this, it’s best to stay clear.”

Squirrelflight’s heart seemed to crack. “But she’s my daughter.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t catch it from her.” Leafpool gazed gently at Squirrelflight.

“Will her kits be okay?” Squirrelflight asked.

“I felt them moving before you came in. They seem strong.”

Squirrelflight hesitated. Should she tell Leafpool about feeling unwell on the way home? No. How could she help her Clan if she were confined to the medicine den? But Leafpool should know about my kits in case I get sick. “I think I may be expecting,” she told Leafpool.

“Really?” Leafpool’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you sure?”

Doubt tugged in Squirrelflight’s belly. Leafpool had said that she always knew when a cat was expecting kits. Am I wrong? She changed the subject. “How’s Larksong?” She looked at the black tom’s nest. Larksong was barely more than a shadow against the bracken.

“He still hasn’t woken and he’s had difficulty breathing,” Leafpool told her. “But we’re giving him tansy and chervil root. And we’ve managed to get a little water into his mouth.”

Squirrelflight felt numb. What if he died? What if Sparkpelt died too, and their unborn kits? She headed for the entrance, shaking out her pelt before the thought could take hold. She pushed through the brambles, holding her face up to the sunshine. Perhaps the light could wash away the darkness she felt welling inside her.

Around the edge of the clearing, Jayfeather and Alderheart moved from warrior to warrior, leaning close as they checked them for symptoms. Finleap and Twigbranch moved aside as Graystripe padded from the elders’ den, his eyes dark. Flippaw paced nervously around Hollytuft, while Bristlepaw and Thriftpaw seemed rooted to the ground.

Thornclaw was blinking anxiously at Bramblestar. “Could Sparkpelt have eaten a tainted mouse too?”

“We haven’t hunted anywhere near the place Larksong’s mouse was caught,” Bramblestar reasoned.

Graystripe padded closer. “Perhaps there are tainted mice all over the forest. Sickness spreads between prey just as it spreads between cats.”

Bramblestar’s pelt bristled along his spine. “It might not even be prey that’s causing the sickness. What if Larksong picked up sickness in the forest and passed it to Sparkpelt?”

“Where could he have picked it up?” Thornclaw frowned. “We’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Mousewhisker padded nearer. “It might be a sickness from outside the Clans.”

Bramblestar blinked at him. “Larksong hasn’t left Clan territory.”

Squirrelflight tensed. A thought surfaced that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

Thornclaw’s gaze flashed suddenly. “But strange cats have come onto Clan territory.” Squirrelflight stared at him, knowing what he was going to say next. The dark warrior growled. “The Sisters might have carried this sickness with them.”

Bramblestar pricked his ears. Graystripe and Mousewhisker swapped glances. It made sense.

Squirrelflight padded quickly forward. “I’ll visit them.” If they’d brought this illness into the Clans, she had to warn them. “I’ll see if they’re sick.” As she spoke, Alderheart nudged Berrynose toward the medicine den. The pale warrior padded toward the trailing brambles, his eyes sparking with fear.

“Are you sick?” Mousewhisker asked Berrynose as he passed.

Berrynose glanced at him. “My chest is a little tight, that’s all.”

“I just want to keep an eye on him,” Alderheart explained.

Jayfeather looked up beside Thriftpaw. The apprentice’s ears were twitching nervously. “Thriftpaw is wheezing,” he mewed.

Alderheart hurried toward the young she-cat and pressed an ear to her chest. He straightened. “You’d better go to the medicine den too.”

Thriftpaw’s eyes widened. “Am I sick?”

“You’re probably fine,” Jayfeather told her. Across the clearing, Ivypool got to her paws, her pelt spiking with alarm. “But it’s best if we watch you for a while.”

Ivypool hurried toward her kit, panic glittering in her gaze. “I’ll go with her.”

Jayfeather shook his head. “If this sickness is contagious, we need to keep the affected cats isolated until we’ve found a way to treat it.”

Ivypool stared as Alderheart guided Thriftpaw toward the medicine den. Thriftpaw glanced at her mother as he passed. She blinked reassuringly, but Squirrelflight could see fear in the young cat’s eyes.

“I’ll go to the Sisters’ camp now,” she told Bramblestar. “If they do have this sickness, they might know a cure.”

Bramblestar nodded. “Take a patrol with you.”

She blinked at him, expecting him to choose warriors to go with her, but he turned and followed Alderheart toward the medicine den. Did he trust her to pick her own patrols again? She felt a flash of relief. “Ivypool.” She nodded to the silver-and-white tabby. “I want you to come with me.” Ivypool glanced toward the medicine den. “You can stay here if you want,” Squirrelflight told her. “But you’ll be more help to me than you will be to Thriftpaw right now.”

Ivypool dipped her head. “I’ll come.”

“Twigbranch.” Squirrelflight nodded to the gray she-cat. “I want you to come too. And Finleap.”

Twigbranch glanced toward the medicine den. “Should we take a medicine cat, to examine the Sisters?” she ventured.

“Good idea.” Squirrelflight flicked her tail. “Go and tell Leafpool that I need her.”

As Twigbranch hurried away, Squirrelflight felt her chest tighten again. She tensed. Was she sick, and not expecting kits at all? She shook out her pelt. It’s just anxiety, she told herself. I’ll be okay. She forced herself to relax, letting her breath deepen. She couldn’t be sick now. She had to find out where this mysterious illness had come from and how to cure it. Sparkpelt’s life could depend on it.