“I think we’re done for tonight,” the grey warrior meowed. “We’ve shifted the worst of the thorns, and I’ve put down some fresh moss. It might be a bit cramped, but you can all get some rest now.”
“What about you?” Brambleclaw asked.
“Brook and I are still fresh. We’ll guard the camp for the rest of the night.”
“Thanks.” Suddenly Brambleclaw felt his legs start to give way beneath him; the prospect of curling up to sleep made him realise just how exhausted he was. He touched Stormfur on the shoulder with his tail-tip, then slid past him into the warriors’ den.
There was a clear space near the trunk of the tree, good enough for cats who were too tired to be fussy about where they slept. Spiderleg and Ashfur were already asleep; just beyond them, Dustpelt and Ferncloud were drowsily sharing tongues. Brambleclaw muttered a greeting to them, and sank into the moss and bracken. A heartbeat later, sleep crashed over him like a black wave.
Chapter 3 (#ubbeeb1c3-7432-519b-84d9-01ab54cac221)
Leafpool opened her eyes, sticky with sleep, and blinked. She was crouched in the middle of the stone hollow beside Cinderpelt’s body. Next to her, Firestar lay with his nose pushed deep into his friend’s grey fur, his eyes narrowed to slits as if he were lost in memories of the cat who had once been his apprentice. Above the hollow, the sky was milky pale with the first light of dawn.
Opening her jaws, Leafpool tried to draw in the last of her beloved mentor’s scent, but all she could taste was death. She had come to sit vigil with Cinderpelt after all the injured cats had been treated. But exhaustion had overwhelmed her and she had fallen asleep. I couldn’t even stay awake for you, she thought despairingly.
She would never forget the dream she had had on her journey with Crowfeather, in which she had heard Cinderpelt’s terrible cry of pain as the badger struck its killing blow. I should have stayed here, she told herself, guilt tearing at her sharper than a badger’s claws.
But even though she had come back to her Clan, her thoughts were still haunted by Crowfeather. The glow in his amber eyes when he told her how much he loved her. The pain in his voice when he realised that her heart lay here, as ThunderClan’s medicine cat, and not with him. Leafpool had been faced with a terrible choice, but in the end she knew her place was here, in the stone hollow. She had given up Crowfeather, and had lost Cinderpelt too. All that remained was her duty to her Clan.
As she sat up, stretching cramped limbs, careful not to disturb her father at his vigil, she saw Stormfur keeping watch just outside the warriors’ den. Brook guarded the camp with him, sitting closer to the entrance. Other cats were beginning to stir now; Brackenfur put his head out of the nursery, then vanished back inside. A moment later, Brambleclaw and Dustpelt emerged from the warriors’ den and stood tasting the air.
Soon it would be time for the elders to carry the bodies of Cinderpelt and Sootfur out of the camp for burial. Leafpool bent her head over Cinderpelt, touching her muzzle to her mentor’s shoulder and brushing against her soft grey fur. She closed her eyes to try to sense Cinderpelt’s spirit, but above her the warriors of StarClan were disappearing as the sky grew brighter.
Cinderpelt? Tell me you’re still with me!
Leafpool tried to imagine herself padding through the stars with silvery pelts brushing against her on either side, but she couldn’t smell any trace of Cinderpelt’s familiar scent. Had Cinderpelt rejected her because she left ThunderClan with Crowfeather? Would she never hear her mentor’s voice again, not even in dreams?
Cinderpelt, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! she cried. Don’t leave me alone like this.
“I can manage. I don’t need to be able to see to carry my Clanmates.”
Longtail’s voice interrupted Leafpool’s desperate prayer. She opened her eyes to see the three elders approaching, Mousefur in the lead and Goldenflower guiding Longtail.
“Of course you don’t,” Mousefur agreed. “We’ll carry them together, don’t worry.”
Firestar rose from Cinderpelt’s side, his movements stiff from wounds and weariness. Whitepaw crept out of the remains of the apprentices’ den, glancing around nervously as if she wanted to make sure no more badgers had appeared. Thornclaw, who had been Sootfur’s mentor, padded up to him and pushed his nose one last time into the cold, grey-black fur.
“You taught him well,” Leafpool mewed softly, sharing his grief for the young warrior. “He died bravely, fighting for his Clanmates.”
Rainwhisker slid between the cats who were clustering around the bodies. Leafpool saw that he was able to put weight on his injured leg, though it would be a while yet before the torn muscles were fully healed.
“Take it easy,” she warned him. “You’ll be limping permanently if you strain that leg.”
Rainwhisker nodded and spoke to Mousefur. “I want to help, please. Sootfur was my brother.”
Mousefur dipped her head. “Very well.”
She and Rainwhisker took up the body of Sootfur, while Goldenflower and Longtail carried Cinderpelt. With a wrench of grief, Leafpool had to step back and let them take her mentor away. Her sister’s scent drifted around her and she felt the warmth of Squirrelflight’s pelt against her side. Leafpool leaned against her shoulder, grateful for the comfort of her presence.
The rest of their Clan stood with bowed heads as the elders made their way past the shattered thorn barrier and into the trees beyond.
Once they had disappeared, Firestar began to organise the patrols. Squirrelflight turned to Brambleclaw and the two cats headed back towards the warriors’ den, their flanks brushing.
Leafpool’s ears pricked. She had thought her sister and Brambleclaw weren’t close any more. She looked around for Ashfur and saw that he was watching too; she was shaken by the look of fury in his eyes.
Sudden fear for her sister swept through Leafpool like an icy wave. She recalled the dream where she had found herself wandering in a dark, unfamiliar forest with no sign of StarClan. There she had hidden on the edge of a clearing, watching while Tigerstar trained his sons Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost and urged them to seek power within their Clans. Brambleclaw had a fearful inheritance, and Leafpool was not sure he was strong enough to resist his father’s treacherous promptings.
Should she tell Squirrelflight about the dream? She took a step towards her sister, then stopped. She had enough to do already, caring for the injured cats, and it was no part of a medicine cat’s duties to interfere in the friendships of other cats. Besides, that had not been a dream from StarClan, so she couldn’t be sure what it meant, or whether it was a warning about the future.
She padded across to Ashfur. “I need to check your wounds,” she meowed. “Especially that torn ear.”
Ashfur’s eyes glittered with anger, still staring after Squirrelflight. “OK.”
He stood without flinching while Leafpool sniffed the wounds on his flank and foreleg, and gave his ear a careful examination. “They’re healing well,” she told him. “I’ll give you some poppy seed to help you sleep, if you like.”
Ashfur shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” With a last glance across the clearing, he padded over to join Dustpelt and Spiderleg, who were rebuilding the thorn barrier.
As Leafpool turned towards her den, she spotted Bright -heart trotting rapidly across the stone hollow with her daughter, Whitepaw, just behind her.
“Leafpool, do you want me to gather herbs?” she offered. “Brambleclaw said I could take Whitepaw to help me.”
“That would be great,” Leafpool replied.
She gave the apprentice a friendly nod. Whitepaw was looking nervous. She probably imagines the forest is crawling with badgers, Leafpool guessed. I don’t blame her.
“We need marigold more than anything,” she went on to Brightheart. “You’ll find plenty beside the stream.”
Brightheart nodded. “I know a good place. Thank StarClan it’s newleaf.”
Leafpool felt a sudden flood of gratitude towards her Clanmate. She winced with guilt when she remembered how she had been convinced that Brightheart was trying to take her place with Cinderpelt. “It’s a good thing Cinderpelt taught you so well,” she meowed. “I really need your help now.”
Brightheart’s good eye glowed with pleasure. “Let’s go, then. Come on, Whitepaw.” With a flick of her tail she bounded away to the camp entrance, the apprentice scurrying behind her.
Leafpool padded back to her den. Birchpaw, roused from sleep as she brushed past the screen of brambles, struggled to stand up, then flopped back into his nest of bracken.
“Don’t try to get up yet,” Leafpool warned. “I want to take a look at your eye.”
She was more worried about Birchpaw than any of the other cats. He was very young to have fought in such a fierce attack; he didn’t have the strength of a full-grown cat to help him recover from serious wounds.
The scratch around Birchpaw’s eye was red and puffy, only a faint gleam escaping past the swollen flesh. He was very lucky not to have lost the eye, Leafpool thought privately, shuddering as she pictured a badger’s blunt claws ripping at the apprentice’s face.
Slipping inside her den where her supplies were kept, Leafpool found the last two leaves of marigold. Thank StarClan Brightheart was fetching more. Leafpool took the leaves outside and chewed them up, but when she tried to lay the pulp on Birchpaw’s eye, he ducked away.
“It stings,” he complained.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But it’ll hurt worse if the scratches get infected. Come on.” Leafpool tried to encourage him. “You’re not a kit any more.”
Birchpaw nodded; his whole body stiffened as he braced himself. Leafpool patted on more of the marigold pulp, and this time breathed a sigh of relief to see the healing juices trickle into his eye.
