Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 17

By the time Squirrelflight led the way down the thickly brambled slope toward the ferns that screened the Sisters’ camp entrance, the moon was shining high above the small valley where they had made their home.

She stopped outside and raised her muzzle. “Moonlight? It’s me.”

Branches rustled beyond the ferns, and Snow’s mew answered. “Squirrelflight?”

“Yes.” Squirrelflight flicked her tail toward Ivypool, Twigbranch, and Finleap, signaling them to stay back. She didn’t want the Sisters to think this was anything but a friendly visit. “Can I come in? I’ve brought some Clanmates with me.”

Paw steps sounded in the grassy clearing. Voices echoed in the night.

“What are they doing here this time of night?”

“Why has she brought campmates?”

“Let’s find out.” Moonlight answered them briskly. “Come in, Squirrelflight. Bring your Clanmates.”

Squirrelflight nosed her way through the ferns. The Sisters ringed the clearing, staring with wide, moonlit eyes as the ThunderClan cats filed into camp. Moonlight’s belly was more swollen than ever. She hung back, flanked by Snow and Tempest, and eyed the patrol warily. “It’s late for a visit. Are you here with another warning?”

“I wanted to speak to you as soon as I could.” Squirrelflight scanned the sisters, looking for signs of illness. Sunrise wasn’t with them. “Are you all well?” She pricked her ears, searching Moonlight’s gaze as the large gray she-cat answered.

“We are.”

“And Sunrise?” Squirrelflight glanced anxiously at Leafpool.

“She’s resting,” Moonlight’s ears twitched. She was clearly unnerved by the patrol’s arrival.

Leafpool padded forward. “May I see her?”

“Her wound is almost healed,” Moonlight told her.

“I’d like to check,” Leafpool pressed.

“Okay.” Moonlight nodded to Furze. “Take her to Sunrise’s den.”

Furze beckoned Leafpool with a flick of her tail and led her through a gap in the dogwood at the edge of the clearing.

As Leafpool disappeared, Squirrelflight glanced around at the Sisters. Their long, thick pelts were disheveled. Was that sickness, or was their fur simply ruffled by sleep?

Tempest shook out her fur, as though conscious of Squirrelflight’s gaze. “Why bring so many Clanmates just to check on Sunrise?”

“Bramblestar told me to bring a patrol with me,” Squirrelflight told her.

Amusement flashed in Moonlight’s gaze. “Are you still trying to please him?”

Squirrelflight swished her tail. “He’s my leader, and my mate.” How could Moonlight understand? She had neither.

“Of course.” Moonlight dipped her head. Her gaze was still firm when she lifted it again. “But you are not just here to check on Sunrise.” As she spoke, Leafpool padded from the dogwood.

“She’s healed well.” Leafpool met Moonlight’s gaze. “You found the herbs you needed?”

“Yes.” Moonlight turned her questioning gaze back to Squirrelflight. “Is Sunrise why you came?”

“There is sickness in our camp,” Squirrelflight told her. “We came to find out if you had it too.”

“Were you worried that you’d passed it on to us?” Moonlight narrowed her eyes. “Or that we’d brought it to you?”

Squirrelflight avoided the question. “We were worried you might be sick.”

“We’re not.” Moonlight eyed her curiously.

Relief washed Squirrelflight’s pelt. She’d tried not to think how the Clans would react if they thought the Sisters had bought sickness to the forest. “Then it must be caused by prey. Be careful what you catch. We think there might be tainted prey in the forest.”

Snow’s pelt prickled. “We hunt here, not in your forest.”

Leafpool padded to Squirrelflight’s side. “We don’t know what has tainted the prey, and whatever it is might have spread here.”

Ivypool stepped forward, her eyes glittering anxiously. “Have you seen any sick prey?”

Moonlight narrowed her eyes. “Not that we’ve noticed. And nothing has made us ill.”

Finleap shifted behind Squirrelflight. “If there’s nothing to learn here,” he mewed, “we should head back.”

Twigbranch moved closer. “Do you think any other cats will have fallen sick while we’ve been away?”

“I hope not.” Squirrelflight’s belly tightened. She dipped her head politely to Moonlight. “I’m sorry we disturbed you.”

As she turned to go, Moonlight’s eyes narrowed. “What are the symptoms of this sickness?”

“It comes on quickly,” Leafpool told her. “The patient feels tired, then suddenly collapses and stops breathing. We’ve managed to keep the first two victims alive, but they’re unconscious and bringing up bile. If we can’t treat them soon, they might die.”

Moonlight looked at Snow. Flickers of recognition seemed to spark in their gaze.

Squirrelflight stiffened. “Do you know what’s causing it?”

“We thought it was strange that you let meadow saffron grow in your forest,” Snow meowed.

Moonlight sat down, her heavy belly resting on her hind paws. “We thought that Clan cats must be immune to its poison.”

“Meadow saffron?” Squirrelflight had never heard of it. “What is it?”

“Haven’t you seen the purple flowers?” Hawk asked. “We saw a few while we were on your land.”

Squirrelflight glanced at Leafpool. She hadn’t noticed any unusual plants, but the medicine cats might have spotted it. “Have you seen any?”

“No.” Leafpool looked perplexed. “But we weren’t looking for it.”

Moonlight’s gaze had darkened with concern. “When we settle new land, we dig up any meadow saffron we find. Mice and shrews like to eat the roots and seeds. It doesn’t hurt them, but it makes them harmful to us.”

Leafpool pricked her ears. “How do you know this?”

“Our ancestors passed on the knowledge,” Tempest explained. “The Twolegs they escaped from grew meadow saffron near their nest.”

Squirrelflight’s heart quickened. Had they found the cause of Sparkpelt’s sickness? “But how did this plant get on our land?”

Hawk frowned. “It might have spread from Twoleg gardens.”

Moonlight nodded. “If a Twoleg near your territory has planted some near their nest, birds will eat the seeds and drop them on your land.”

Leafpool’s eyes were wide. “Is there a cure?”

Moonlight shrugged. “Dandelion root will clear the poison from inside. But treatment must be fast, before the poison takes hold.”

Ivypool’s tail twitched impatiently. “We must get back!”

“Thank you.” Squirrelflight nodded to Moonlight. “You may have saved the lives of our Clanmates.” As she turned toward the entrance, Ivypool hesitated.

“Thank you.” The silver warrior’s gaze flitted gratefully around the Sisters.

Moonlight dipped her head. “I’m glad we could help.”

Squirrelflight pushed her way through the ferns. Hope sparked in her fur. But it was a long journey home. Would they make it back in time to save Sparkpelt?

As the patrol crossed the border and raced through the moonlit forest, Leafpool pulled up. “Wait.” The medicine cat nodded to Twigbranch and Finleap. “Come with me.”

Squirrelflight scrambled to a halt, alarm sending a shiver up her spine. “Where are you going?” She needed Leafpool with her. What if Sparkpelt hadn’t made it through the night?

Leafpool met her gaze. “We won’t be long. We need to gather dandelion roots. We’ll bring them back to camp as soon as we can. You and Ivypool go ahead so you can be with Sparkpelt and Thriftpaw.”

“Don’t take too long.” Squirrelflight glanced toward the camp.

“We’ll be quick,” Leafpool promised, and headed away into the shadows.

As Twigbranch and Finleap hurried after her, Squirrelflight glanced at Ivypool. The silver tabby’s eyes were dark with worry. “Come on.”

Squirrelflight charged onward through the forest. Dawn must be close, but clouds obscured the moon, throwing darkness over the forest, so deep she could barely see her whiskers. She skimmed blindly over the swath of blueberries and raced down the slope toward the hollow, scrambling to a halt outside the thorn tunnel. She paused as Ivypool caught up to her, and took a breath. Please, StarClan, let Sparkpelt be alive.

She hurried through the entrance, her heart lurching as she padded into a silent camp. It was quiet. Had she expected to find a body laid out in the clearing while her Clanmates sat vigil? She crossed the camp, Ivypool at her heels. “Wait here,” she told the silver tabby as she reached the medicine den. With four sick cats, it must already be crowded. “I’ll send Alderheart outside to talk to you.” Ivypool nodded, staring with hollow eyes as Squirrelflight nosed her way through the trailing brambles.

The hot, stuffy air surrounded her as she blinked in the darkness. She could make out the shape of Jayfeather, crouching beside Larksong. Alderheart rested his paws on the edge of Sparkpelt’s nest. They turned as Squirrelflight crossed the den.

Jayfeather sat up. “Are the Sisters sick?”

“No.” Squirrelflight halted. “But they know what’s caused the sickness. A new plant on our land. They saw it while they were here. It’s called meadow saffron. Prey that eats it becomes poisonous.” She leaned over Sparkpelt’s nest. The orange tabby was unconscious. She fought back panic. Why was Sparkpelt so still? “How’s she doing?”

“I gave her poppy seeds to make her sleep,” Alderheart told her. “She was fretting over Larksong.”

Squirrelflight glanced into the nest beside Sparkpelt’s. Through the darkness, she could see Larksong’s matted pelt, his bones jutting out as though he’d grown suddenly old. “Is he any better?”

“No.” Alderheart’s eyes glittered with worry.

Jayfeather flicked his tail impatiently. “Do the Sisters know a cure?”

“Dandelion root will clean the poison out,” Squirrelflight told him. “But it must be given quickly.” She glanced at Larksong’s nest. “Leafpool’s gathering some now. She’ll be here soon.”

Her heart leaped with hope as the brambles rustled at the entrance, but it was only Bramblestar.

“I saw you were back,” he meowed, hurrying across the den.

Jayfeather stared at him blindly in the darkness. “The Sisters aren’t sick, but they know what’s caused this and how to treat it.”

Bramblestar’s pelt prickled with surprise. “Will they be okay?” He glanced at Larksong and Sparkpelt’s nests.

Squirrelflight’s heart twisted with fear. “We don’t know if we found out in time.” She glanced at the other nests beside the den wall. Thriftpaw and Berrynose were sound asleep, their muzzles tucked beneath their paws. “Are they sick?”

“Not yet,” Alderheart told her.

“Ivypool is waiting outside,” Squirrelflight told him. “She needs to know that Thriftpaw’s still okay.”

As she spoke, Leafpool crashed through the trailing brambles and dropped a bundle of dandelion root from her jaws. “We didn’t stop to gather much, but it should do for now.” Her pelt was ruffled from running, and her tail was fluffed out.

Ivypool slid in after her, scanning the medicine den.

Alderheart hurried to meet her. “She’s fine,” he told the silver tabby, guiding her outside. Dawn light showed between the brambles as they pushed through. “There’s no sign of sickness. We just want to keep an eye on her for a day or two.”

Jayfeather scooped up a dandelion in his jaws and snapped off the thickest part. He began to chew it into a pulp.

Leafpool looked into Larksong’s nest. “We should treat Larksong first.” She frowned. “If we can get him to swallow it.”

“What about Sparkpelt?” Bramblestar’s eyes rounded.

“We’ll treat her afterward,” Leafpool told him.

Squirrelflight caught her sister’s eye. “How are the kits doing?”

Leafpool leaned over the edge of the nest and pressed her ear against Sparkpelt’s flank. “They’re quiet now,” she told Squirrelflight, straightening. “But I can still feel movement.”

Squirrelflight glanced at Bramblestar, her heart pressing in her throat. Would the Sisters’ treatment save Sparkpelt and the kits?

Jayfeather spat dandelion pulp onto his paw. “Hold his head,” he ordered Leafpool.

As Leafpool lifted Larksong’s head with a paw, Alderheart nosed his way back into the den and hurried to join them. Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar, craving the warmth of his pelt against hers. Jayfeather held his paw in front of the black tom’s muzzle. “If you open his mouth,” he told Leafpool, “I can smear it on his tongue. That should—”

He stopped as Larksong jerked in his nest. The black tom’s legs stiffened and his body twitched. A convulsion took hold of him; his back arched. He began to thrash wildly, as though a fox had seized his spine and was shaking him. Leafpool pressed her paws around his head. Alderheart leaped into the nest and pinned Larksong’s shoulders into the bracken, holding him down as spasms contorted his body.

Squirrelflight’s heart lurched. She pressed harder against Bramblestar.

“Larksong?” Sparkpelt’s alarmed mew sounded behind her. Sparkpelt was struggling blearily to her paws, her terrified gaze fixed on Larksong. “What’s happening to him?”

“It’s a fit,” Jayfeather told her. “It’ll stop in a moment.”

“It’ll kill him!” Sparkpelt wailed.

Squirrelflight’s paws seemed frozen to the earth. Was this going to happen to Sparkpelt next? On the far side of the den, Thriftpaw and Berrynose lifted their heads. Their eyes rounded in horror as they took in Larksong. Nervously, Thriftpaw climbed into Berrynose’s nest and huddled beside the pale warrior. Squirrelflight glanced at them, then turned her helpless gaze back on Larksong. The spasms were easing. The convulsions seemed to loosen with each jerk until he lay as limp as fresh prey, his head hanging over the edge of his nest.

Alderheart hopped out. He was trembling.

“Will he live?” Bramblestar’s mew was husky with fear.

Leafpool and Jayfeather exchanged glances.

Bracken crunched as Sparkpelt tried to haul herself from her nest. “Larksong.” The name came as a sob.

Squirrelflight nudged her back. “Rest,” she pleaded. “There’s nothing you can do to help him.”

“I can comfort him!” Sparkpelt grunted with effort as she pushed her mother away and padded shakily to Larksong’s nest. She rested her head beside his cheek. “Larksong,” she breathed, her gaze clouded with grief.

Squirrelflight’s heart seemed to crack. She blinked at Jayfeather. “Are you going to give him the dandelion root?” The pulp was still smeared on his paw.

He reached for a leaf and wiped it off. “It’s too late. He won’t be able to swallow this.” His blind blue gaze reached for Squirrelflight. “There’s nothing more we can do for him.”

“You have to save him,” Sparkpelt breathed weakly.

Jayfeather pushed the leaf toward her muzzle. “Swallow this.” He pointed his muzzle toward the pulp.

She didn’t seem to hear him.

Squirrelflight bent closer to her. “Eat the dandelion root,” she whispered. “It will help you and the kits.”

Sparkpelt’s gaze was fixed on Larksong.

“Please.” Squirrelflight lifted the leaf and placed it beside Sparkpelt’s muzzle. She glanced desperately at Bramblestar. “Tell her she has to,” she pleaded.

Bramblestar leaned forward. “Sparkpelt,” he mewed softly.

She lifted her gaze to him, then froze. Pain sparked in her gaze.

As Squirrelflight saw her flanks spasm, her heart seemed to stop. Was she having a fit like Larksong?

Sparkpelt gasped. “My belly.” She jerked from Larksong’s nest and sat back on her haunches as another spasm made her gasp.

Leafpool pricked her ears. “The kits are coming!”

Squirrelflight’s pelt spiked. Not now! They couldn’t come now, not here. They were too early, and Sparkpelt was sick. “Is she strong enough?” She blinked at Leafpool.

“She’ll have to be.” Leafpool jerked her muzzle toward Alderheart. “Take Thriftpaw and Berrynose to the nursery,” she ordered. “Now that we know the sickness doesn’t spread, they don’t have to be confined here. Stay with them.”

Alderheart’s eyes widened. “Don’t you need me here?”

“I have Jayfeather. And some cat needs to keep an eye on them,” Leafpool told him. “These symptoms come on fast.”

Alderheart hurried away, bustling Thriftpaw and Berrynose, wide-eyed, from the den.

Sparkpelt crouched on the den floor, her breath coming fast as another spasm pulsed through her. Jayfeather eased her onto her side and began to lap her pelt with long, soothing licks. Leafpool crouched at her tail. “The first kit’s coming.”

Squirrelflight watched as a small, wet sack plopped onto the ground. The sack tore as it landed, and a tiny tortoiseshell kit, tinier than Squirrelflight had ever seen, struggled from the membrane. Leafpool grabbed its scruff and scooped it toward Squirrelflight. “Clean it and keep it warm.”

Pelt prickling with surprise, Squirrelflight picked up the kit by its scruff. She sat down and placed it on the ground against her belly. Leaning down, she licked the remains of the membrane from its pelt and then washed it softly with her tongue. “It’s a she-cat,” she breathed, relieved to feel it squirming against her. Her heart swelled as kit scent filled her nose.

Bramblestar leaned closer, a purr throbbing in his throat. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured, touching his nose to the kit’s head.

“She has a brother.” Leafpool jerked another kit toward them.

Squirrelflight took him and cleaned him and pressed the little black tom next to his littermate. Sparkpelt groaned as another convulsion shook her.

“You’re doing well,” Leafpool told her.

Sparkpelt stretched her head back and gazed desperately at Larksong. In the pale dawn light Squirrelflight saw that the black tom’s eyes were open, half focused on Sparkpelt. Did he realize what was happening?

Squirrelflight got to her paws. She lifted the tom-kit and swung him toward Bramblestar. “Keep this one warm.” She placed him between his paws, then picked up the she-kit by the scruff. Carrying her gently, she took her to Larksong’s nest. She placed her at the edge of the nest, beside his muzzle.

Sparkpelt grunted, her body convulsing again.

“This is the last one.” Leafpool moved back as a tiny black-and-orange tom-kit slithered onto the floor. She pressed a paw onto Sparkpelt’s flank. “Rest now,” she meowed. “We’ll take care of the kits.”

Sparkpelt didn’t respond. She was staring at Larksong as the she-kit mewled beside his muzzle. His clouded gaze seemed to sharpen. He moved his head, touching his nose to the kit’s flank.

Squirrelflight held her breath as Larksong blinked slowly, his eyes widening with joy. The kit wriggled and rubbed her head against his muzzle. Larksong gave a short, rasping purr. His gaze flicked toward Sparkpelt, glistening with affection. Then it grew dull, like twilight fading into night.

Shock pulsed through Squirrelflight. He’s dead. Larksong’s eyes stared blankly at Sparkpelt, but she knew he couldn’t see her anymore.

“Larksong?” Sparkpelt stared back at him, panic edging her mew.

Jayfeather hurried to Larksong’s nest and pressed his ear to the tom’s chest. Squirrelflight quickly snatched the kit away and carried her back to Bramblestar, where she tucked her beside her littermate.

“Larksong!” Sparkpelt was struggling to her paws. She staggered toward Larksong, collapsed as she reached him, and laid her head beside his on the edge of the nest.

Squirrelflight blinked in panic at Leafpool. Would this be too much for Sparkpelt? But Leafpool was staring at the last kit. He lay lifeless on the ground. Blood roared in Squirrelflight’s ears as grief threatened to overwhelm her. Beside her, Bramblestar sheltered the first two kits between his paws. Dread glittered in his gaze. He stared at Sparkpelt, hardly moving.

Squirrelflight struggled to breathe. She felt as though she were drowning. Closing her eyes, she fought the grief. Sparkpelt mustn’t know that one of her kits had died. She’d been through too much already, and she was still sick. Steadying her breath, Squirrelflight nudged Bramblestar with her nose. It seemed to shake him from his horror. He blinked at her questioningly.

“We must take the kits to Sorrelstripe,” she told him.

“She’s got her own kits.” Bramblestar blinked at her.

“Then she’ll have milk,” Squirrelflight told him. “She can feed these with her own until Sparkpelt can nurse them. Daisy will be there to help look after them.” She glanced at her daughter, her heart twisting as she saw raw grief in Sparkpelt’s eyes. She wanted to comfort her, but she knew Sparkpelt was lost in misery. I can’t help Sparkpelt yet, but I can take care of her kits. Squirrelflight shook out her pelt and scooped up the she-kit. “Bring the black kit,” she told Bramblestar.

He glanced toward the third kit, his black-and-orange pelt dull in the half-light. “What about that one?” His mew was soft and Squirrelflight guessed that he, too, didn’t want Sparkpelt to hear.

Squirrelflight gently laid the wriggling she-kit on the floor, then lifted the orange-and-black tom-kit, carrying him outside the den. She laid him in a bed of leaves, then returned to Bramblestar and picked up the she-kit again.

“Where did you take him?” Bramblestar asked as he scooped up the black tom-kit.

Squirrelflight put down the she-kit and gestured to the leaves as they left the den. “We can plan a vigil for Larksong and his kit when these kits are safe,” she said. “In the meantime, I don’t want Sparkpelt to see.”

She picked up the she-kit again and blinked at him. He seemed to understand, grief sparking in his gaze. As she headed for the trailing brambles, he followed her. Squirrelflight bent her head low to protect the kit from the prickles. They were going to get through this. No matter how much grief Sparkpelt was going to suffer, Squirrelflight was determined not to let her daughter down.