Chapter 21

Briarlight was coughing.

The roughness in her mew that had begun last night had developed into a heaviness in her chest that Jayfeather could hear growing thicker every time he lowered his head to listen.

“Here,” he mewed, pushing another pawful of herbs toward her. “Swallow these.”

“No more,” she complained. “I couldn’t swallow a thing.”

“I’ve flavored them with mouse,” Jayfeather coaxed.

Briarlight let out a low moan, as if the thought of food made her feel worse. Jayfeather pushed away Littlecloud’s dark memory of Wildfur’s slow decline after his accident. He wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to Briarlight.

Millie pushed her way through the brambles. “I’ve come to help Briarlight with her exercises…” Her mew trailed away as she recognized sickness in her kit. “What’s wrong with her?” Her voice was tense.

“Just a slight fever.” Jayfeather deliberately kept his tone light. “A bit of exercise might help her fight it off.”

“Shouldn’t she rest?” Millie questioned.

Briarlight clawed at her nest. “I’ve been resting all night!” she mewed. A cough gripped her but she swallowed against it.

Jayfeather heard Millie’s paws hesitate for a moment before padding briskly across the den. “Come on, then.”

Briarlight’s breath rasped as she began to go through her strengthening exercises with her mother. Suddenly she stopped, and Jayfeather heard her flop down in her nest. “This is too much work!”

Jayfeather tensed. Briarlight had never given up before. “Come on,” he urged. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“It’s all too much work,” Briarlight wailed. “Exercises morning and night. Dragging myself to the fresh-kill pile as if it were a mountain away. I can’t even breathe or lie comfortably, let alone hunt or play with my littermates!”

Fear was flashing from Millie’s pelt. “But think how much you have to be grateful for,” she meowed as brightly as she could. “You can still share tongues with your littermates and enjoy a tasty mouse. And the whole Clan admires you.” Jayfeather could sense the she-cat desperately searching for more reasons for Briarlight to be happy and grateful.

He padded forward and touched Millie’s shoulder with his muzzle. “Why don’t you see if you can catch her something really tasty?” he suggested. “I’ll mix up some fresh herbs.” He turned to Briarlight. “You’ve been working hard. A day’s rest will do you good.”

As Millie left the den, Jayfeather began to rub Briarlight’s chest, hoping to stimulate her breathing.

“Your mother would gladly suffer your injuries for you,” he murmured.

“That’s dumb,” Briarlight rasped. “Why would any cat want to be like this?”

“It’s just how mothers think.” His thoughts flashed to Leafpool. Would she have taken his blindness to spare him?

“Careful!” Briarlight’s mew brought him back. “I smoothed that fur down earlier and now you’re rubbing it the wrong way.”

“Sorry.” Jayfeather felt a glimmer of relief at hearing her old spark.

“Washing myself is about all I can do these days,” she went on. “You don’t have to mess it up.”

Jayfeather purred and smoothed her fur back down with his tongue.

The brambles rustled.

“Jayfeather?”

Dustpelt was standing in the entrance. “Firestar’s called a meeting of the senior warriors,” he meowed. “He wants you there too.”

Jayfeather hesitated. Who was going to watch Briarlight?

“I’ll be okay.” The young warrior guessed what he was thinking. “In fact, I’ll enjoy the peace.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

He pushed his way out of the den and sniffed carefully. Firestar was sitting in the crook of a beech bough, out of hearing of the rest of the Clan. Graystripe, Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, Dustpelt, Thornclaw, Sandstorm, Brightheart, and Cloudtail sat below him, flavoring the air with their anticipation. Jayfeather took his place beside them.

“Thank you for joining us.” Firestar’s tail brushed the beech bark. The leader was agitated. “Ivypaw has had a dream.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Dustpelt called.

Firestar’s claws scraped the bark. “I think it’s a sign from StarClan.”

“Ivypaw?” Thornclaw’s mew was scornful.

“Why not?” Brightheart prickled in defense of her kin.

“Our daughter’s kit wouldn’t lie,” Cloudtail growled.

Thornclaw’s pelt bristled. “I’m not saying she’d lie,” he retorted. “I just want to know the reason Firestar’s taken it so seriously.”

Graystripe’s paws shifted. “She seemed to know more than she should.”

Thornclaw huffed. “Apprentices always know more than they should!”

“This was different.” Brambleclaw’s tail swept the earth.

Jayfeather listened in silence. Ivypaw? Dreaming? What was StarClan doing sending her messages? He pricked his ears.

“Okay, okay.” Dustpelt snorted impatiently. “Let’s say this dream was a message from StarClan. What was it?”

“She dreamed that ShadowClan had invaded,” Firestar told them. “That the stream along the clearing where Twolegs come in greenleaf was running with ThunderClan blood.”

Jayfeather felt anxiety sweep through the warriors.

“Do we know what it means?” Thornclaw demanded.

“It’s pretty easy to guess,” Dustpelt scoffed. “ShadowClan wants to push the advantage they got from being given the clearing in the first place. They want more of our territory.”

Anger flashed from Firestar, but he kept his voice level as he answered the dusky warrior. “The decisions I make may not always be right, but they are based on reason and experience.”

“No cat doubts your reason,” Dustpelt conceded. “But any cat with any experience must know that ShadowClan will always take advantage wherever they can.”

A growl rumbled in Graystripe’s throat. “There’s always the hope that if we treat them like true warriors they’ll start acting with honor instead of preying on weakness wherever they find it.”

“Enough!” Firestar lost patience. “We’re here to discuss the safety of ThunderClan, not ShadowClan’s honor. If Ivypaw’s dream is right, we must act.”

“Good!” Dustpelt’s claws scraped the ground.

“Jayfeather?”

He looked up.

“Have you had any warning from StarClan about ShadowClan?”

“No.” Not about ShadowClan.

“We don’t need warnings from StarClan!” rumbled Dustpelt. “We’ve had enough warnings from ShadowClan!”

“They have been crossing the border lately,” Squirrelflight agreed.

“It might be best to nip any trouble in the bud,” Sandstorm ventured.

“But how?” wondered Brightheart.

Dustpelt stood up. “Well, we gave the clearing to them. We should take it back!”

“It was ours to begin with,” Cloudtail agreed.

“And with leaf-bare coming,” Graystripe chipped in, “the extra hunting would be useful.”

Jayfeather could feel unease pulsing from Firestar’s pelt. “I don’t like to go back on my word,” he growled.

“This is ShadowClan we’re dealing with!” Thornclaw reminded him. “A warrior’s word means nothing to them.”

“And if Ivypaw’s right,” Firestar murmured, “then we risk our lives by delaying.”

Jayfeather sighed. He knew what this meant. In his head, he began to tally the herbs in his store. Was there enough marigold? It was the best medicine for gashes and bites.

“We must attack before they do,” Firestar decided.

“Now?” Dustpelt was pacing.

“Not yet,” Firestar cautioned. “I must warn them first.”

“Warn them?” Brambleclaw sounded shocked. “You’ll have lost the battle before you’ve begun it!”

“We can win any battle,” Firestar told him. “I’m going to give Blackstar a chance to surrender the clearing peacefully.”

Cloudtail spluttered with disbelief. “As if!”

“I must give him the chance,” Firestar insisted. “No blood will be spilled needlessly.” He leaped down from the bough.

Where’s Lionblaze? Jayfeather suddenly realized that his brother wasn’t in the hollow. He needed to know what was happening here. Jayfeather hurried after Firestar. “Can I go and find Lionblaze?”

“No time,” Firestar replied. “I want you to come with me.” He called to his deputy. “Brambleclaw! Let Graystripe finish organizing the patrols. I want you with us.”

Jayfeather flattened his ears. It was a huge show of trust for Firestar to visit the ShadowClan camp with his deputy and medicine cat. Especially with a proposal like this one. Foreboding swelled in his belly.

What if this was exactly what Tigerstar wanted? After all, he’d won Tigerheart over to his side. How many other ShadowClan cats had he recruited?

Brambleclaw seemed less concerned about where they were going than what they were leaving behind. “Is it wise to leave the camp so vulnerable?”

“Vulnerable?” Graystripe echoed. “Are you calling us mouse-hearts?”

There was warmth in the gray warrior’s mew. But he had a point. Even with Firestar and Brambleclaw gone, the camp would be well guarded.

But, Jayfeather wondered with a chill, what if they never came back?

Frost-hardened leaves crunched underpaw as they padded through the forest. When they approached the ShadowClan border, Firestar and Brambleclaw tasted the air. Hope prickled from their pelts. Jayfeather guessed they were looking for traces of ShadowClan this side of the scent line. Was Ivypaw’s dream enough of a reason to attack? Had it really come from StarClan?

Firestar paused at the border, then crossed it. The air was fragrant with pine, the ground soft underpaw, thick with fallen needles. Jayfeather felt his leader push away his last tremor of doubt. Brambleclaw padded at his side, determined and calm, while Jayfeather trailed behind.

“Keep up,” Brambleclaw ordered. “We’re on enemy territory.”

As he spoke Jayfeather felt alarm flare from among the trees ahead. “Patrol!” he warned.

Firestar halted. “We’ve come to speak with Blackstar!” His voice echoed through the pines.

Jayfeather recognized the scent of Toadfoot and Ratscar. Their paws scuffed the needles, wariness fizzing in their pelts.

“What do you want with him?” Ratscar growled.

“To talk,” Firestar answered.

Jayfeather pictured Toadfoot and Ratscar exchange questioning glances before Ratscar replied.

“Very well.”

Jayfeather was familiar with the twisting route to the ShadowClan camp, but he had never felt this uneasy before, this unconvinced of his reason for being there. He followed the warriors through the prickly entrance. Surprised murmurs rippled through the ShadowClan cats.

“Firestar?” Tawnypelt’s questioning mew rang across the clearing.

Ratscar was heading for his leader’s den. “He wants to speak to Blackstar,” he growled.

But Blackstar was already padding out. “Why has ThunderClan’s leader come to ShadowClan?” His mew was sharp with suspicion.

“I need to talk to you,” Firestar answered. “In private.”

Blackstar’s tail lashed the air. “In private?” He padded slowly around Brambleclaw and Jayfeather, his whiskers twitching audibly with distrust. “Why so secret?”

“Feel free to match my Clanmates with your own,” Firestar offered.

“How generous of you,” Blackstar sneered. “Russetfur! Littlecloud!” he called. “We have company.”

Jayfeather sensed stiffness in Russetfur’s limbs as she ambled across the clearing. Frailty oozed from her, and he could smell the scent of strengthening herbs on her breath. The ShadowClan deputy had grown old, and with a flash of surprise Jayfeather realized that she would probably not survive leaf-bare. Littlecloud hurried from the medicine den, paws still fragrant with the herbs he’d been mixing. Some cat had whitecough, by the smell of the coltsfoot and catmint on his fur.

Jayfeather let his mind roam the camp, searching the nursery first. No sickness there. Then he heard coughing from the apprentices’ den. Pinepaw was sick, but not fevered. The strong young apprentice would easily shake off his illness.

Jayfeather followed Blackstar, Firestar, and Brambleclaw into the ShadowClan leader’s den, nose wrinkling in readiness for the stench. He would never understand ShadowClan’s taste for rat.

“What do you want?” Blackstar was brisk, and Firestar matched his briskness with his own.

“I want you to give the Twoleg clearing back to ThunderClan.”

Shock pulsed from the ShadowClan leader. Russetfur’s claws scraped the floor.

“What?” Blackstar rasped.

“We gave it as a gift,” Firestar went on. “But you’ve pushed at our forest borders once too often.”

“That’s not true!” Russetfur hissed. “You just want extra hunting lands. Have your greedy warriors hunted the forest clean?”

“We have enough prey for ourselves,” Firestar meowed evenly. “But our forest can’t spare prey for ShadowClan hunting parties.”

Rage filled the den, so thick in the air that Jayfeather’s heart began to quicken and he felt as if there weren’t enough air to breathe.

“You’re accusing us of crossing borders?” Blackstar spat. “We were beginning to think ThunderClan had forgotten what scent lines mean.”

Jayfeather felt tension seize Brambleclaw, as though he was holding back from lashing out at the ShadowClan leader. “We want our land back,” he growled.

“It’s our land now,” Russetfur spat.

“Then we’ll take it from you by force,” Firestar warned.

Blackstar’s tail scraped the side of the den, his fur snagging on the thorns. “If you want a battle, you’ll have one.”

“Very well,” Firestar answered. “My warriors will be setting the new boundary tomorrow at dawn. It’s your choice whether to stop them.”

“Don’t play that game!” Blackstar hissed. “You’re the one leading your Clan into battle.”

“Toadfoot! Crowfrost! Ratscar!” Blackstar yowled as they crossed the clearing. “Escort them from our territory.” The rage in his voice set pelts prickling around the edge of the camp.

Paws itching with unease, Jayfeather followed Firestar, trying to keep his pace slow even though he wanted to run. The air in the camp had soured into enmity.

Toadfoot fell in beside him, knocking roughly against his shoulder. “Why can’t you mind your own business?” the ShadowClan warrior growled.

Jayfeather shifted away from his escort. Closing his eyes, he prayed that Ivypaw’s dream had been right.

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