Читать книгу SUNSET - Erin Hunter, Эрин Хантер - Страница 10
ОглавлениеBrambleclaw felt as if every drop of his blood had turned to ice. It was bad enough that any warrior should have gone to join StarClan tonight, but losing the Clan’s medicine cat was a cruel blow. He suddenly realised why Leafpool had asked Brightheart to help her treat the injured warriors.
Mousefur let out a shocked yowl. “She was only a young cat! She had her whole life ahead of her.”
Squirrelflight padded up and brushed her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “We won’t forget her,” she murmured.
Brambleclaw nodded, too shocked to speak. Leafpool stood with head bowed for a heartbeat, then nudged Thornclaw to his paws. “Come to my den.” Her voice sounded thin, as if she was keeping it tightly under control. “I have more cobwebs there.” She padded away, glancing back just once to be sure Thornclaw was following.
Movement in the darkness at the edge of the hollow caught Brambleclaw’s eye, and he turned to see Spiderleg and Whitepaw heading slowly towards them. Spiderleg beckoned with his tail; Brambleclaw had to force his numbed legs into action.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Come and see.” Spiderleg led the way to the wall of the hollow, near the escape route where Daisy and her kits had climbed to safety. A limp bundle of grey-black fur lay in the shadows.
“It’s Sootfur,” Whitepaw whispered. “I think he’s dead.”
Brambleclaw’s belly twisted. Even though he was afraid that Whitepaw was right, he nosed the young warrior’s body in the faint hope of rousing him. Sootfur didn’t move, and his glazed eyes stared at nothing.
“May StarClan light his path,” Brambleclaw murmured. Sootfur’s sister, Sorreltail, had only just given birth; how would she cope with the loss of her brother?
Both the younger cats were staring at Brambleclaw as if they were waiting for him to tell them what to do. With a massive effort he forced himself to think.
“Carry him into the centre of the camp, so we can have a vigil,” he meowed. “I’ll go and look for Rainwhisker.” Sootfur’s brother would have to be told; perhaps he could help their sister, Sorreltail.
Brambleclaw waited until Spiderleg and Whitepaw had lifted Sootfur’s body, then began to search. He couldn’t remember seeing Rainwhisker since the end of the battle. Anxiety sank sharp claws into him; surely Rainwhisker couldn’t be dead too?
Then he spotted the grey warrior half buried under the torn-up thorn branches that had once sheltered the warriors’ den. He lay without moving, but as Brambleclaw dragged a branch off him he managed to lift his head.
“The badgers—have they gone?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s all over,” Brambleclaw replied. “But I’m afraid there’s sad news. Can you get up?”
With a grunt, Rainwhisker brought his paws under him and scrabbled at the prickly twigs until he had hauled himself upright. He balanced precariously on three legs; the fourth hung at an awkward angle, and Brambleclaw was afraid it had been broken. Giving Rainwhisker his shoulder for support, he guided him towards the centre of the camp where Sootfur now lay. Firestar, Squirrelflight, and several other cats stood around him, their heads bowed.
Rainwhisker let out a yowl of dismay at the sight of his brother’s body. Limping forward, he bent his head to thrust his nose into the grey-black fur. He stayed still for a few heartbeats, then looked up, his eyes filled with grief.
“I should tell Sorreltail,” he meowed.
Firestar twitched his tail to stop him. “Your leg needs to be seen to first. Some other cat—”
“No,” Rainwhisker interrupted stubbornly. “Let me do it. Sootfur was our brother. She will want to hear this from me.”
The Clan leader hesitated, then nodded. “OK, but go to see Cinderpelt as soon as you can.”
“Firestar, you mean Leafpool,” Sandstorm gently corrected him.
Firestar blinked, stupefied by shock and exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe Cinderpelt’s dead.”
Brambleclaw gazed at him sympathetically. The Thunder Clan leader had been very close to Cinderpelt. He was sure to be badly shaken by her death.
He’s going to need my help. Brambleclaw braced himself. Touching Squirrelflight on her shoulder with his tail, he murmured, “Let’s go and bring Cinderpelt’s body into the clearing.”
“Right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Rainwhisker, come with us if you want to speak to Sorreltail.”
The three cats made their way to the nursery. The bramble thicket, growing close to the wall of the hollow, was the least damaged part of the camp. Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Brackenfur had stayed there throughout the battle, defending the entrance while Sorreltail’s kits were born. Only part of it had been trampled down where the badger that killed Cinderpelt had swatted Brackenfur aside to break in.
Daisy and her kits were standing outside the entrance. Cloudtail and Ferncloud were with them, and Birchpaw, who lay splayed out on the ground beside his mother. For a dreadful instant Brambleclaw thought that the apprentice had died of his wounds, until he saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Ferncloud crouched over him, gently licking his shoulder.
Leafpool and Brightheart approached at the same time. Leafpool was carrying a wrap of herbs in her jaws, which she set down as Brambleclaw came up.
“Thank StarClan, Cinderpelt’s den was too small for the badgers to get in,” she meowed. “All her herbs and berries are still intact.” Her voice shook as she added, “Please can we move her body, so the Clan can sit in vigil for her?”
“We’ve come to do that,” Brambleclaw told her.
Leafpool blinked gratefully. “Thank you. Brightheart,” she went on, “please fetch some marigold for Birchpaw. Then tell all the cats who are able to walk to go to my den. It’ll be easier to treat them there. And let me know if there’s any cat who can’t manage it. I’ll need to see them first.”
Brightheart gave a brisk nod and left.
Leafpool led the way into the nursery, followed closely by Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and Rainwhisker. Hardly any moonlight penetrated through the brambles, making it shadowy as a cave inside, and Brambleclaw winced as he stepped on a thorny tendril. He could just make out Cinderpelt lying on her side in a nest of soft moss. Her tail was curled over her nose, and she looked as if she were asleep.
Brambleclaw padded up to her. “Cinderpelt?” For a heartbeat he thought she might raise her head and answer him, but when he touched his nose to her fur it felt deathly cold.
Sorreltail was lying on the other side of the dead medicine cat, in the furthest corner of the nursery. Her body was curled away from Cinderpelt’s body, sheltering her kits. Her mate, Brackenfur, crouched beside her, his fur bristling; as the other cats entered he bared his teeth in a snarl.
“It’s all right, Brackenfur,” Brambleclaw meowed. “It’s only us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Brackenfur relaxed, though he still looked wary, and shifted even closer to Sorreltail. Leafpool squeezed past Brambleclaw and began nosing carefully over the young tortoiseshell. Brambleclaw blinked, waiting for his eyes to get used to the gloom until he could see Sorreltail’s four kits burrowing blindly into her fur. Sorreltail was gazing up at Leafpool, her eyes blank with shock.
Rainwhisker edged up beside Brambleclaw. “What can I say to her?” he whispered. “She’s suffered enough already. Knowing about Sootfur could kill her.”
“Not when she has Brackenfur and Leafpool to look after her,” Brambleclaw reassured him. “Come on—it’s better for her to hear it from you than some other cat.”
Rainwhisker nodded, though he still looked uncertain. “Sorreltail . . .” he began, gently nuzzling his sister’s shoulder.
“Rainwhisker, is that you?” Sorreltail mewed, twisting her head around to look at him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll be OK,” Rainwhisker replied. “But I’ve got some bad news. It’s Sootfur. He’s . . . dead.”
Sorreltail stared at him for a couple of heartbeats as if she hadn’t understood. Then she tipped back her head and let out a high-pitched wail. “No! Oh, no!”
Her body twisted in a spasm of grief; Brambleclaw heard a faint mewling of protest from the kits as they were dislodged from her belly.
“Sorreltail, it’s all right!” Brackenfur mewed. He pressed himself to her side, covering her face and ears with licks until she shuddered and buried her head in his shoulder. “Sorreltail, I’m here,” he went on. “Think of the kits. You have to care for them.”
“How did he die?” Sorreltail’s voice trembled, but she shifted until her kits were tucked once more in the curve of her body. The babies scrambled back into place and kept suckling, pressing into her belly with tiny soft paws.
“The badgers killed him,” Rainwhisker told her. “Sootfur was a brave warrior,” Brambleclaw meowed. “He’s safe with StarClan now.”
Sorreltail nodded and reached out to give Rainwhisker a comforting lick. “Thank you for telling me.”
Leafpool nudged her leaf wrap closer to the young tortoiseshell. “That’s borage,” she meowed. “It will help your supply of milk.” She hesitated and then added, “If you can’t sleep, I’ll get you some poppy seed, but it would be better for the kits if you can manage without.”
“It’s all right, I can do without it.” Sorreltail bent over and chewed up the borage, wincing at the taste but swallowing until it was all gone.
“Brackenfur, can you find some fresh-kill for her?” Leafpool suggested. “As for you, Rainwhisker, you’d better stay right here while I have a look at that leg.”
Brackenfur touched his nose to Sorreltail’s ear, promised, “I’ll be right back,” and slipped out of the nursery past Cinderpelt’s body.
Sorreltail’s gaze followed him. “It’s my fault Cinderpelt died.” Her voice rasped with grief. “She could have escaped the badger, but she stayed to help me.”
“It’s not your fault.” Leafpool sounded unusually fierce, and Brambleclaw glanced at her in surprise. “Cinderpelt was doing her duty as a medicine cat. That was the choice she made.”
“That’s true,” meowed Squirrelflight. “Sorreltail, just think—if Cinderpelt had left you, the badger might have killed you too, and your kits. You wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”
Sorreltail shook her head, shuddering.
“They’re beautiful kits,” Brambleclaw said, trying to distract her. He got a good look at the newest members of ThunderClan for the first time. “Have you given them names yet?”
Sorreltail nodded. “This one is Molekit.” She touched the biggest kit’s head with the tip of her tail. “He’s the only tom. Then this is Honeykit and Poppykit.” She touched in turn a pale bracken-coloured tabby and a tortoiseshell-and-white kit who looked like a tiny copy of Sorreltail. “And this is Cinderkit.”
Brambleclaw heard a gasp from Squirrelflight. The fluffy grey kit looked hauntingly familiar, and he couldn’t help casting a rapid glance at the body of Cinderpelt behind him. Leafpool, bent over Rainwhisker’s injured leg, froze for a heartbeat. “I think Cinderpelt would like that,” she mewed softly, then carried on with what she was doing.
“They all look strong and healthy,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Come on, Squirrelflight, we have a job to do for Cinderpelt now.”
Squirrelflight paused and touched Leafpool lightly on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “You should get some rest soon,” she mewed. “You look awful.”
“I don’t have time to rest,” Leafpool responded, not looking at her. “What are all these wounded cats going to do if I take a nap?”
Squirrelflight’s gaze was troubled. “But I’m worried about you. I can feel how tough it is for you right now.”
This time Leafpool didn’t reply. Brambleclaw could see that she just wanted to be left alone to take care of Rainwhisker. He nudged Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Come on,” he repeated, lowering his voice to add, “give her a bit of space. She can cope; she just needs time.”
Squirrelflight still looked uncertain, but she turned round in the tight space and helped Brambleclaw carry Cinderpelt’s limp body out of the nursery. Daisy and the kits were still huddled by the entrance with Cloudtail and Ferncloud. Brightheart had brought the marigold and was treating Birchpaw’s wounds.
“You can’t leave,” Cloudtail was protesting. “You and the kits belong here.”
Daisy shook her head, her gaze falling on the dead medicine cat. “My kits could have been killed,” she mewed. “Or I could have died, and then what would happen to them? They’ll be safer back at the horseplace.”
All three of her kits let out meows of protest.
“But what about the Twolegs?” Cloudtail pressed. “You came here in the first place because you were afraid they would take your kits away from you.”
Daisy flexed her claws, her eyes clouded with indecision. Before she could speak, Brightheart meowed, “The kits might be safe from the Twolegs by now. After all, they’re nearly old enough to make themselves useful, catching rats and mice in the barn.”
“But we don’t want to go back there,” Berrykit wailed. “We want to stay here.”
Daisy flicked him with her tail. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want a badger to come and get you?”
“But none of you are hurt,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “The Clan made sure you were safe.”
“Please stay,” Ferncloud urged. “Life will be much easier now that newleaf is here.”
Daisy gave her a doubtful look. “Can you promise me the badgers won’t come back?”
“No cat can promise that,” Cloudtail replied, “but I’ll bet we won’t see anything of them for a good long time.”
Daisy shook her head and pushed her kits in front of her into the nursery. “Come along. You need to rest after such a dreadful night.”
“But we’re not tired,” Mousekit complained.
Daisy didn’t reply. She cast one more glance back at Cloudtail, full of fear and uncertainty, before she vanished.
Ferncloud followed her. “I’ll just see her settled.”
“Daisy could be right, you know,” Brightheart meowed, without looking at Cloudtail. “She knows what’s best for her kits, and maybe they would all feel safer back at the horse-place.”
Cloudtail opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.
“You’d better get over to Leafpool’s den,” Brightheart told him, as if she didn’t want to talk about the horseplace cat any more. “That torn claw is bleeding again. You need more cobwebs.”
Cloudtail glanced at the nursery entrance and muttered, “Right, I’ll be off, then.”
Brambleclaw turned back to Cinderpelt, his heart twisting with grief as he gazed at the sleek grey body, the blue eyes glazed and empty. Squirrelflight stood beside him with her head bowed; Brambleclaw saw a shiver pass through her and he pressed himself against her side, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. When she didn’t move, he stood for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.
“Come on,” he mewed softly. “The night will be over soon. It’s time for her vigil.”
He and Squirrelflight picked up Cinderpelt’s body again to carry her across the clearing and lay her beside Sootfur. Spiderleg and Whitepaw were crouching with their noses pressed into the grey-black warrior’s pelt.
“Goodbye,” Brambleclaw murmured, touching his nose to Cinderpelt’s fur. “StarClan will honour you.”
“We’ll miss you,” Squirrelflight added. “And we’ll never forget you.”
Brambleclaw would have liked to crouch beside the dead medicine cat and keep a proper vigil for her, but there was too much to do. He padded across to Firestar, who was still in the centre of the camp with Stormfur, Brook, and Midnight.
“I think we should start on the warriors’ den,” he meowed.
Midnight dipped her head to Firestar. “I go now,” she announced. “By night is travel well.”
“But you must be as tired as the rest of us,” Firestar protested. “Stay until you have slept for a while.”
Midnight’s white-striped head swung around as she surveyed the shattered camp. “No more here for me to do. I go back to sea cave, hear beating of waves on shore, rustle of wind in grasses.”
“ThunderClan would have been destroyed if you hadn’t brought WindClan to help us. We can never thank you enough.”
“No need is thanks. Too late warning come. My kin not hear talk of peace.”
“But why?” Brook asked, her eyes wide with distress. “In the mountains, we’ve never had trouble with badgers. Are they like Sharptooth, wanting to kill cats for their prey?”
Midnight shook her head. “My kin not eat cats. But cats drive them from territory, first from RiverClan on other side of lake, then from here. Revenge they want, and take territory back.”
“I remember Hawkfrost reporting that at the Gathering,” Firestar meowed. “He was the RiverClan warrior who drove the badger out.”
Brambleclaw drew a sharp breath, ready to defend his half-brother. Were his Clanmates going to blame Hawkfrost for the badger attack?
“We drove a badger out of our territory too,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “With her kits. And to think I felt sorry for her!”
“I wonder if that means they’ll come back,” Firestar murmured thoughtfully. “The patrols will have to keep a sharp lookout.”
“I also,” Midnight added. “When know anything, I come, or send word. But now I go, say farewell to cat friends.”
“Goodbye, Midnight,” mewed Stormfur. “It was good to see you again.”
Midnight’s small eyes rested on him for a moment. “Spirits watch over you,” she told Stormfur. “StarClan and Tribe of Endless Hunting also. Hard the path you walk, but not finished yet.”
The grey warrior dipped his head. “Thank you, Midnight.”
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Brambleclaw meowed to Midnight. With a glance at his Clan leader, he added, “Couldn’t you make a set in the woods here and stay with us?”
“Please!” Squirrelflight urged.
The old badger shook her head, her eyes deep with wisdom. “This not my place,” she warned. “But StarClan may lead us meet again.”
“I hope so,” meowed Brambleclaw.
“Then it’s goodbye.” Firestar lowered his head to Midnight in the deepest respect. “ThunderClan will always honour you.” He escorted her to the entrance, as if he didn’t want to see her go either. Dustpelt and Sandstorm, gathering up the thorns from the damaged entrance barrier, stopped work briefly to add their own farewells.
With Squirrelflight and Stormfur beside him, Bramble claw watched Midnight leave the hollow, her broad, flat paws tramping across the remains of the thorn barrier. For the second time now, ThunderClan had needed Midnight’s help to survive. How could they be safe when she was so far away, at the sun-drown-place? Brambleclaw wasn’t even sure he could find the sandy cliff again.
I must go on, he told himself. I’d give my last breath to help my Clan, and ThunderClan needs me now more than they ever have before.
Stormfur turned away from the dark forest where the badger had disappeared. “Right,” he meowed, “what needs doing next?”
“I think every cat has been accounted for, and Leafpool and Brightheart are taking care of the injuries. But we all need to rest and recover,” Brambleclaw meowed. “That means we need to sort out places to sleep. And do something about fresh-kill.”
“Brook and I will hunt for the Clan in the morning,” Stormfur promised. “For now, I’ll work on the warriors’ den. Where is it?”
Good question, thought Brambleclaw. He pointed with his tail at the trampled thorn tree beneath the far wall of the hollow. “Over there,” he meowed. The branches had been dense and low-growing, providing good protection against the cold winds and rain of leaf-bare. But the badgers had broken through the canopy to get at cats trying to shelter inside, and it didn’t look much like a den now.
Stormfur blinked. “OK, I’ll get started.” He bounded off in the direction Brambleclaw had pointed.
“Brook, you could check on the elders,” Squirrelflight suggested. “Their den’s under that twisted hazel over there. Come and find me if you need any help.”
Brook nodded and bounded off into the shadows.
Brambleclaw was about to follow Stormfur when Ashfur padded up. “Are you going to sit vigil for Sootfur and Cinderpelt?” he asked Squirrelflight.
“You go ahead,” Squirrelflight mewed. “I want to help rebuild the dens right now, but I’ll try to sit with them later. Cinderpelt and Sootfur would understand.”
Ashfur blinked at her with hurt in his blue eyes, as if he was taking her refusal personally. “OK, I’ll see you later, then.” He padded off and settled down beside the other cats circled around the two still bodies.
Squirrelflight flicked her tail lightly over Brambleclaw’s ears. “Don’t you think you should go to Leafpool’s den and get those scratches looked at?”
In spite of everything that had happened, the expression in Squirrelflight’s eyes made something in Brambleclaw’s heart purr like a kit. “Not yet,” he told her. “Leafpool has enough to do, and there are plenty of cats hurt worse than me. I’ll help Stormfur with the warriors’ den. Every cat is exhausted, and it’ll be dawn soon.”
“Then I’ll do something about fresh-kill. The pile must have been scattered, but the badgers wouldn’t have had time to eat our prey. I might be able to salvage enough to keep us going until we can send out hunting patrols. If I find anything fit to eat, I’ll bring you some.”
“Thanks.” Brambleclaw watched the ginger warrior as she padded across the clearing, then made his way to the remains of the warriors’ den. Every muscle in his body was aching, the scratch on his shoulder throbbed, and he felt almost too tired to put one paw in front of another. But his Clanmates needed him. He had to find the strength to help them.
The thorn tree where the warriors had made their den grew close to the highest part of the cliff, not far from the tumble of rocks leading up to the Highledge. As he approached, Brambleclaw saw that although the outer branches were broken and trampled down, further in, towards the trunk, there seemed to be less damage. He hoped that there might be enough shelter left untouched, even if the warriors were a bit cramped until the tree put on fresh growth in newleaf.
As he drew closer, sniffing cautiously at the wrecked outer branches, Stormfur appeared, hauling a tangled mass of thorns behind him.
“Hi,” he panted, setting the thorns down to catch his breath. Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Shouldn’t you be resting? You look very battered, you know.”
“We’re all battered,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “I can’t rest now; there’s too much to do.”
Stormfur’s gaze travelled around the clearing. “There certainly is.”
Brambleclaw rested his tail against Stormfur’s grey flank. “I’m glad to see you,” he meowed. “StarClan couldn’t have chosen a better time to bring you here.”
“Well . . . the Tribe of Endless Hunting watch over me now.”
“Some ancestors sent you to us. I don’t care whose, I’m just thankful.”
Squirrelflight trotted up just then, carrying a couple of mice by their tails. She dropped the fresh-kill at their paws. “There you are,” she mewed to Brambleclaw. “Eat. You need your strength.” She patted the second mouse towards Stormfur. “You too, Stormfur.”
“No thanks,” the grey warrior meowed. “Brook and I ate on the way here. I’m not hungry right now.”
“OK, if you’re sure, I’ll take it to the elders. I’ve found plenty of fresh-kill,” she added to Brambleclaw. “It’s a bit trod-den on, but it’ll do until tomorrow.” With a whisk of her tail she picked up the spare mouse and headed for the elders’ den.
While Stormfur went back inside the den, Brambleclaw crouched down to eat the mouse. It was flattened and covered with earth, as if a badger’s huge paw had trampled it into the ground, but he was too hungry to care. He devoured it in a few famished gulps. Then he went to help Stormfur shift the damaged thorns. Blood began oozing again from the scratch on his shoulder as he struggled to drag the broken branches away from the rest; thorns pricked at his paws and scraped against his side, adding fresh scratches to his pelt.
As he was backing out of the den, tugging a particularly stubborn branch, Squirrelflight’s scent drifted around him. He dropped the end of the branch and turned to see her standing behind him with a dripping wad of moss.
She set it down and meowed, “I thought you might need a drink.”
“Thanks.” As he lapped water from the moss, he thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. It seemed to soak into every part of him, giving him new energy.
When he had drunk as much as he wanted, Squirrelflight picked up the moss and gently dabbed it against his shoulder wound. Her eyes met Brambleclaw’s; he shivered at the closeness of her.
“Squirrelflight, I’m sorry for everything—” he began.
She swept her tail-tip across his mouth. “I know,” she murmured.
Brambleclaw thought he could have stood like that forever, drowning in the depths of her green gaze. But a movement beyond her distracted him, and he looked up to see Ashfur staring at him.
The grey warrior had left the vigil for his dead Clanmates and was crossing the clearing. After a few moments, he turned away and disappeared behind the brambles that screened the medicine cat’s den.
Brambleclaw stepped back and faced Squirrelflight. “What about Ashfur?” he meowed. He didn’t need to say any more— Squirrelflight and Ashfur had become very close in recent moons, and the grey warrior might have good reason to feel that Brambleclaw was treading on his paws.
Squirrelflight dropped the moss. “Don’t worry about Ashfur. I’ll talk to him.” There was regret in her eyes, but no uncertainty. Briefly she touched her nose to Brambleclaw’s. “I have to fetch water for the elders now. I’ll see you later.”
Dazed, Brambleclaw watched her go before starting to tug at the branch again. He could hardly believe how quickly everything had changed, and how little he and Squirrelflight had needed to say to each other. Their quarrels, the way they had deliberately tried to hurt each other, all that was gone in the wake of the badger attack, now that they realised how much they cared about each other. They didn’t even have to apologise; they could just look forward to all the moons ahead of them.
As he finally yanked the branch free, Stormfur emerged from the den, pushing a tangle of moss and thorns in front of him.
“It’s good to see you and Squirrelflight are still getting on so well,” he meowed.
“Yes, she’s a terrific cat,” Brambleclaw mumbled. He didn’t want to tell Stormfur that the closeness he shared with Squirrelflight had melted away for a time. “Why don’t we take some of these thorns over to Sandstorm for the entrance barrier?”
“OK.” Stormfur looked faintly amused, as if he could tell Brambleclaw was deliberately changing the subject away from Squirrelflight. “You know,” he added, “I feel just the same about Brook.”
He picked up the end of a long branch, but before they had gone more than a couple of paces Brambleclaw spotted the young Tribe she-cat heading towards them with a huge bundle of moss in her jaws.
“The elders are going to be fine,” she reported, after setting her burden down beside Brambleclaw. “Leafpool has put cobwebs on Mousefur’s scratches, and given them all a few poppy seeds to help them sleep. Squirrelflight has gone to fetch them some water.”
“Thanks for your help, Brook,” Brambleclaw meowed, nodding at the ball of moss.
“I took it out of the elders’ den because it’s full of thorns. No cat could sleep on that. Can you tell me the best place to find some more moss?”
“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Brambleclaw asked. “You’ve travelled a long way.”
Brook’s ears twitched. “I’m in better shape than you. Besides, we took it easy on the journey. It’s been more than a moon since we left the Tribe.”
“We thought we would never find you,” Stormfur meowed.
“How did you?” Brambleclaw asked. He jumped at a flicker of movement behind him, but it was only Brackenfur, padding across to the nursery with fresh-kill in his jaws. “Did the Tribe of Endless Hunting show you the way?”
A glance flashed between Stormfur and Brook.
“I wish they had,” Stormfur replied. “We might have got here sooner. We wandered around in the hills until we came across a rogue who knew some cats who live with horses. Do you know them?”
“Oh, yes, the horseplace cats,” Brambleclaw mewed. “We’ve met them—in fact, one of them is here now, with her kits.”
Stormfur looked surprised. “Well, the rogue said they told him a huge number of cats had moved into their area. We knew that had to be you, and the rogue told us which way to come.”
“So you haven’t been to RiverClan yet?”
Stormfur shook his head, but before he could say anything else, Brook prodded Brambleclaw in the shoulder with one paw. “Moss? Your elders will be waiting.”
“Oh, sure. Let’s take these thorns over to the camp entrance, and I’ll show you.”
Brambleclaw and Stormfur dragged the branches across to where Sandstorm, Dustpelt, and Firestar were working on the barrier. Brook followed with her bundle of moss.
“Over there.” Brambleclaw pointed with his tail into the forest. His pelt prickled with horror as he remembered how the badgers had come roaring out of the shadows with death in their eyes. “Keep going straight on, and you’ll find plenty of moss around the tree roots.”
“I’ll come with you, Brook,” Stormfur meowed. “You never know, there might still be badgers around.”
“I’ve posted guards,” Firestar called across. “It should be safe.” He flicked his ears towards the top of the hollow, where Brambleclaw could just make out the shadowy shapes of Cloudtail and Thornclaw.
Stormfur followed his gaze, then turned back to Brook. “I’m still coming with you. We’ll need more moss for the warriors’ den.”
He and Brook headed into the forest. As Brambleclaw turned back into the camp, he spotted Leafpool emerging from her den. When she reached Cinderpelt’s body she stopped, bowed her head, and rested her nose in her mentor’s soft fur.
“Forgive me, Cinderpelt.” Brambleclaw was just close enough to hear her murmured words. “I want to sit vigil with you, but there’s too much to do. I know you would want me to care for your Clan.”
Leafpool lifted her head, seemed to brace herself, and padded on towards Brambleclaw. “I want you in my den now,” she meowed. “Your wounds need treatment.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue, Brambleclaw. Just do it.” For a moment Leafpool sounded as forceful as her sister, Squirrelflight. “How much use will you be if your shoulder gets infected?”
Brambleclaw sighed. “All right. I’m on my way.” As the young medicine cat brushed past him, he rested the tip of his tail on her shoulder. “Thanks, Leafpool. I mean, thanks for coming back. ThunderClan needs you.”
Leafpool flashed him a glance filled with sorrow before padding on towards her father and mother by the camp entrance. “Firestar!” he heard her call. “I haven’t had a chance to look at your wounds yet.”
As Brambleclaw was approaching Leafpool’s den, he spotted Ashfur emerging from behind the bramble screen. His torn ear was wrapped in cobwebs, and more of them were plastered along his flank and on his foreleg.
“Are you OK?” Brambleclaw asked as Ashfur padded past him.
Ashfur didn’t look at him. “Fine, thanks,” he mewed curtly.
Brambleclaw watched him cross the clearing to the nursery, where Brackenfur and Spiderleg were dragging out the broken bramble tendrils. Ashfur set to work beside them.
Just outside the cleft in the rock wall where Leafpool had her den, Birchpaw was curled up asleep in a nest of bracken, one paw over his nose. Though he was only an apprentice, he had fought bravely in the battle and helped to protect Daisy and her kits as they escaped from the hollow. The wounds on his haunches, where fur had been ripped away, were covered with a poultice of marigold; Brambleclaw’s nostrils twitched at the sharp scent of chewed-up herbs.
On the other side of the cleft, Rainwhisker lay among more bracken. As Brambleclaw appeared around the screen of brambles he raised his head and blinked drowsily. “Hi, Brambleclaw.” His voice sounded blurred with sleep. “Is everything OK?”
“It will be. How’s your leg?”
“Not broken, thank StarClan. Just dislocated.” He let out a sleepy purr. “Leafpool put it back in place.” His eyes closed again and he rested his nose on his paws.
Brightheart emerged from the cleft in the rock with a mouthful of herbs. She nodded to Brambleclaw, then bent over Rainwhisker and Birchpaw to give each a quick sniff.
“They’re doing fine,” she meowed. “Brambleclaw, when Leafpool comes back, tell her I’ve taken some marigold to Brackenfur. He’s working on the nursery so he doesn’t have to leave Sorreltail.”
“OK,” Brambleclaw agreed.
He sat down beside the two sleeping cats. Leafpool arrived a few moments later with Firestar following her. Carefully she looked Brambleclaw over, then gave the deep scratch on his shoulder a lick.
“That’s the only serious wound,” she meowed. “I want to take a look at it every day, OK? Wait there while I fetch you some marigold.” She paused, staring into the distance for a couple of heartbeats before taking a deep breath and disappearing into the cleft.
“Will she be all right?” Brambleclaw murmured to Firestar. “No medicine cat is looking after her.”
“I’ll tell Squirrelflight to keep an eye on her.”
Leafpool came back with the marigold leaves, and began chewing them up for a poultice.
“We’re down to the last scraps,” she mewed, glancing up with the end of a leaf poking out of her jaws. “Some cat will need to fetch more first thing tomorrow.”
“I’ll see to it,” Firestar promised. “Or—Brambleclaw, maybe you could organise that? Find a cat who isn’t too badly hurt.”
Brambleclaw dipped his head. “OK, Firestar.”
Leaving the cleft in the rock, he spotted Stormfur beside the warriors’ den, beckoning to him with his tail.
“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.
