Hollyleaf’s Story

Chapter 5

Hollyleaf tucked her nose under her tail and tried to shut out the noise that drifted down the tunnels to her nest. The fox cub was still somewhere underground, whimpering in the dark. Why hadn’t it left? Was it afraid that the dog was waiting for it? Hollyleaf sniffed and wriggled deeper into the feathers. The high-pitched whine broke through, niggling her like thorns.

Hollyleaf sat up. For StarClan’s sake, shut up! There was no way she could sleep through this noise. She hopped out of her nest and padded along the tunnel to the river-cave. It was filled with a pale gray wash of starlight. Fallen Leaves was sitting at the edge of the water.

“Can you hear the fox?” Hollyleaf asked irritably.

Fallen Leaves shrugged. “It’ll find its way out eventually.”

“But it’s keeping me awake!” Hollyleaf complained. Doesn’t Fallen Leaves need to sleep too?

The fox let out a loud yelp, as if it could hear them talking. Hollyleaf felt a rush of pity. She knew what it felt like to be lost and frightened in the dark. “Maybe I should go find it,” she murmured.

Fallen Leaves stared at her in surprise. “But it’s a fox!”

“It’s a baby,” she countered. “You wouldn’t leave a kit down here, would you?”

“A kit wouldn’t try to eat me,” Fallen Leaves pointed out.

“I’m too much of a mouthful for this cub,” Hollyleaf assured him, hoping that was true. The fox had smelled strongly of milk, which meant it probably wasn’t eating fresh-kill yet. And it certainly hadn’t noticed it was sitting on top of prey when the dog chased it into the hole. She shook out her fur and started toward the woods-tunnel.

“You’re not really going to look for it, are you?” Fallen Leaves sounded astonished.

“Yes, if it means I can get some sleep,” meowed Hollyleaf. “If I’m not back by dawn, come and fetch me, okay?” she added, only half-joking.

“Of course,” Fallen Leaves replied somberly.

The darkness felt even more solid than usual, and Hollyleaf struggled against the urge to turn tail and flee back to the river-cave. The fox cub’s whimpering echoed off the walls, confusing her senses and disorienting her. She paused when she felt cold air blowing on one side of her head. There was an opening to another tunnel here; had the cub gone this way? She listened for a moment. There was a tiny scraping noise, as if soft pads were shuffling against the stone. If the fox really had gone down here, it would be truly stuck, because this particular tunnel got narrower and narrower until it ended abruptly in a rockfall. Which meant that if Hollyleaf followed the cub, she could get trapped in a dead end…

Hollyleaf took a deep breath and stepped into the tunnel. Almost at once, the fox let out a shriek as if it had heard her approaching. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you!” Hollyleaf called into the darkness. There was a fast scrabbling sound, and a wave of fox-scented fear rolled down the passage toward her. Hollyleaf reminded herself that this was just a lost and scared youngster, so she wasn’t in any danger. She padded closer. “Hush, don’t be frightened,” she murmured.

The scrabbling stopped, and Hollyleaf guessed the fox was pressed against the rockfall with nowhere else to go. It let out the tiniest whine. “Poor little scrap,” Hollyleaf mewed, as if she were comforting a kit. “Did you get lost?”

She took another step forward, and her muzzle bumped against soft, strong-smelling fur. Trying not to gag, Hollyleaf gave it a lick. The fox tensed, rigid as a rock, then relaxed as she kept licking. Feeling bolder, Hollyleaf moved closer to where she guessed the cub’s head was. Her nose touched the tip of a feather-soft ear. “It’s all right, you’re safe now,” she whispered between licks.

The cub’s head drooped until it rested against Hollyleaf’s chest. She felt the faint tickle of its whiskers as it tucked its chin under its front paws. Hollyleaf wriggled closer until her body was curled around as much of the fox as she could reach. She could feel its breath slowing and becoming steadier. She stopped licking and rested her head on the fox’s neck. “Sleep, little one,” she murmured. She pressed close to the cold fur beside her, hoping that some of her warmth would seep in. It crossed her mind that none of her former Clanmates would ever believe she had slept next to a fox. But she wasn’t in the Clan anymore, and this cub needed her, just as a kit needed its mother. Hollyleaf shifted her head into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes.

She was woken by something pinching her front leg. Was Fallen Leaves getting her attention by biting her? Hollyleaf opened her eyes to a faint gray light. A shape loomed over her, and when she looked down at her leg she saw tiny white teeth sinking into her fur. “Ow!” she yelped, scrambling free.

The fox cub tipped its head to one side and looked at her. “Yip!”

Hollyleaf backed away. The cub was bigger than she remembered, twice as broad as her across its shoulders, and its teeth were small but definitely sharp. “Okaaay,” she mewed, taking another step until she was safely out of reach. “Let’s get you out of these tunnels.”

The fox bounced to its feet, filling the space. Hollyleaf braced herself. There was no sign that the cub thought she was prey; in fact, it looked as if it wanted to play. It let out another high-pitched bark and bounced on its front feet. Hollyleaf turned and looked back over her shoulder. It went against all her instincts to have the fox behind her, because now she felt as if she was being chased. Not chased—followed, she told herself firmly. “Come on!” she meowed.

She took a few steps forward. The fox ran after her, then stopped and whined. Hollyleaf looked at the tunnel ahead. It vanished into blackness, compared with the pale light that filled this section. “It’s okay,” she told the cub. “This is the way out, I promise.” She padded into the shadows, but the fox stayed where it was. There was a soft thump, and Hollyleaf realized it had sat down. Sighing, she turned back and squeezed in beside it. “Get up,” she urged, nudging the cub’s flank with her muzzle. “You can’t stay here!”

She jabbed its haunches with her paw and the fox jumped up with a yelp. Hollyleaf gave it another shove with her nose. “Come on, I’ll be right beside you.” The cub took a cautious step and Hollyleaf stayed close, pressing against its flank. “That’s right!” she mewed.

Slowly, they inched their way along the tunnel. The fox stopped dead when they reached the junction with the woods-tunnel, but Hollyleaf nudged and shoved and encouraged it around the corner until they could feel the breeze from outside on their faces. The fox let out a cheerful-sounding yelp and broke into a trot. Overconfident, it crashed into the opposite wall and sat down with a bump, whimpering. Hollyleaf ran forward and licked the fox’s muzzle. She couldn’t taste any blood, so it wasn’t seriously hurt. “You silly thing,” she scolded. “Stay beside me until you can see, okay?”

She knew the fox couldn’t understand what she was saying, but it still walked more slowly as they rounded the curve in the tunnel. Gray light spilled in ahead of them, painfully bright like before. The fox blinked and whined, rubbing its eyes with a front paw.

“It’s because you’ve been in the dark for a while,” Hollyleaf explained. “Keep going; you’re nearly there!” She reached up and licked the cub’s ears, and a picture of Squirrelflight doing the same to her burst into her mind. She’d fallen into a puddle and her mother had whisked her back to the nursery to dry her off. Her mother. Suddenly Hollyleaf missed Squirrelflight with a physical pain.

The fox jumped up and trotted on. It picked up speed as its eyes grew used to the light, and Hollyleaf hung back, resisting the urge to stay pressed against its warm fur. The cub didn’t belong here. It needed to be back with its mother, in their den in the woods. Suddenly the cub stopped, right at the entrance. It looked back at Hollyleaf and let out a questioning bark.

Hollyleaf shook her head. “I can’t come with you, little one,” she meowed. “This is my home.” The words caught in her throat like a gristly piece of fresh-kill.

There was a loud yelp from beyond the mouth of the tunnel. The cub’s head whipped around, its ears pricked. It let out a yip, and there was another bark, confident and joyous. “That’s your mother, isn’t it?” Hollyleaf whispered.

The cub bounded forward and vanished into the circle of whiteness. Hollyleaf crept along the tunnel until she could see the trees outside. The tunnel opened into a wood much like ThunderClan territory, with a mix of trees and dense undergrowth. The light crashed into Hollyleaf’s eyes and she narrowed them as much as she could. Her ears rang with the sound of leaves rustling, birds singing, and the thunder of paws as cub and mother fox raced toward each other. Blinking, Hollyleaf watched as they collided in a tumble of russet fur. The cub let out a volley of excited yelps as its mother bundled it over, sniffing every part of its fur.

“You’re safe now,” Hollyleaf murmured, trying to ignore the lump of sadness in her chest. “You’re back where you belong.” The sight of the cub butting his mother’s belly for milk mixed with images of Hollyleaf squirming with her littermates in the Clan nursery, bathed in comforting scents of food. I was happy then, before I knew the truth, she thought. But that life is over now.