Night Whispers

Chapter 13

Lionblaze stretched in his nest. His back brushed Cinderheart’s. She murmured but didn’t wake. Dawn hardly showed through the woven stems of the den. Lionblaze lay still, breathing gently, while shadows stirred around him. Dustpelt yawned and slid out of the den, ready for the first patrol.

Whitewing sat up and reached a paw into Brackenfur’s nest. “It’s time,” she whispered.

The russet warrior grunted and hauled himself to his paws. “Has it snowed again?”

“I haven’t looked yet.” Whitewing picked her way between the nests and ducked out of the den. Snow crunched as she headed across the clearing.

Lionblaze waited for Brackenfur to leave before he sat up. He wished he’d fought the fox last night while its wounds were still fresh and before it had rested. But Firestar had ordered him to wait.

“If you hunt it now,” the ThunderClan leader had reasoned, “the other warriors will feel cheated of a chance to protect their Clan. If you wait, they’re more likely to believe you came across it by accident.”

Cinderheart rolled onto her back, ears twitching as though she was dreaming. The gray fur of her belly looked downy and warm. Lionblaze felt a sudden pang of guilt. She had no idea about his special powers. He hadn’t told her about the prophecy. Now that they’d grown so close, it seemed like lying to keep it from her. But how could he tell her? Their love felt strong, but could it survive the truth?

Lionblaze pushed away the worry and breathed in her warm, sleepy scent. I’ll drive this fox out for you, Cinderheart, so that you can hunt safely all leaf-bare. He brushed his tail gently over her as he crept to the den entrance. A fresh layer of snow had fallen, and the clearing had the smoothness of water, ruffled only by the tracks of the dawn patrol. The sky showed pink above the hollow, and soft light filtered down into camp.

Lionblaze slid out of the den. Firestar was standing on Highledge, gazing over the empty clearing. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Lionblaze, then nodded. Lionblaze flicked his tail and hurried to the apprentices’ den. “Dovepaw!”

His call was barely a whisper, but a moment later the ferns rustled and the gray apprentice pushed her way out.

“Training already?” She stretched with her front paws until her belly dented the snow.

“We have a special mission.”

Dovepaw straightened. “Is Jayfeather coming with us?”

“We don’t need his powers for this.” I don’t need yours, either.

He headed out of camp, Dovepaw scampering after him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

“Do you need me to listen for something?”

“No.” He wasn’t in the mood for questions. He should have done this last night and done it alone. He marched along a well-worn trail, his thoughts on the fox. Dovepaw spoke again, but he didn’t listen. Lionblaze was picturing the fox whirling wildly in the camp, snapping at Ferncloud, lashing Daisy with its tail. Rage boiled in his blood. How dare it threaten his Clanmates?

A gray pelt blocked his path. “Where are we going?” Dovepaw’s frustrated mew made him stop.

“I’m going to chase away the fox.” He pushed past her and pressed on.

She bounded along beside him. “Just us?”

“Just me. Firestar said I had to bring you to fetch help if I got hurt.”

“Firestar knows about this?” Dovepaw sounded surprised.

“Why shouldn’t he?” Lionblaze bristled. “He’s Clan leader. And he knows about my powers. He knows I won’t get hurt.”

“But this isn’t what we were given our powers for!”

Lionblaze halted and stared at Dovepaw. “You think we should stand by and let a fox terrorize our Clanmates?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Dovepaw stood her ground. “I mean other Clans deal with foxes without special powers. Why do something alone that a patrol of ordinary warriors could do?” There was something wistful in the way she mewed ordinary.

“It’ll be easier this way,” Lionblaze promised. “And no one will get hurt.”

Dovepaw turned away. “It just seems wrong, that’s all. Like cheating.” She followed the trail around a sprawling patch of ivy.

“Cheating?” Lionblaze hurried after her. “How can it be cheating to use the powers we’ve been given to protect our Clan?”

Dovepaw carried on walking. “In a Clan, everyone looks after one another. It’s what binds us together. If you can do the duties of every other warrior, what’s the point?”

“The point is I won’t get hurt and they might.”

“I’m sure Thornclaw and Dustpelt would be happy to know that they can move straight into the elders’ den. Clearly they’re not needed now that the Clan has you.”

“For StarClan’s sake!” Lionblaze growled. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“I’m just saying what I think. Or isn’t that allowed anymore? Does only your opinion count?”

“You know I don’t think that.” Lionblaze was surprised to hear Dovepaw sound so fierce. “I’m just being practical. This way, the fox will be gone, and no one will get hurt.”

Dovepaw flicked her tail. “I just wish you felt the same way about Ivypaw.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you told her to stop visiting the Dark Forest yet?”

“Jayfeather thinks we should wait.”

“For what? Until she wakes up with an injury so bad everyone in the Clan will notice it?”

Lionblaze halted. “Look,” he began. “Jayfeather thinks that if we watch her, we might learn how the Dark Forest warriors are training their recruits.”

Dovepaw tipped her head to one side and stared at him. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Would she tell us?”

“Of course she would!” Dovepaw snapped. “She doesn’t know they’re using her. She thinks she’s being trained to be a great warrior.”

“In that case, what’s the harm in watching her for a little while longer?” Even as he spoke, doubt pricked his pelt. Ivypaw was only an apprentice. Whatever was going on in the Place of No Stars, she was out of her depth.

“What if she gets badly hurt?” Dovepaw snapped. “How would you feel, knowing you could have stopped her and didn’t?” She turned and kicked through the snow.

There was no time to reason with her. They were nearing the elderberry bush where the fox hole was hidden. Lionblaze padded ahead and signaled with his tail. “Hide under that holly bush and listen out in case there’s trouble.”

Fur bristled along Dovepaw’s spine. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I’ll be okay, but just in case anything goes wrong, get back to camp and get help.”

She nodded.

Lionblaze turned away and opened his mouth, letting fox scent bathe his tongue. Dovepaw’s arguing had distracted him, interfered with his focus. The fox invaded our territory, he reminded himself. It had attacked the camp. Kits could have been killed. Anger started to bubble beneath his pelt, and he ducked under the elderberry bush and crept toward the fox hole.

There were no fresh paw prints leading from the hole. It must be inside. He peered into the darkness, wrinkling his nose at the stench. His paws itched with foreboding. The hole disappeared into blackness. Every hair in his pelt stiffened.

I’ll draw the fox out.

He crouched at the entrance and gave a sharp, angry yowl.

Silence.

Coward!

Then he remembered with a flash of fury that this fox preferred attacking defenseless kits. He crouched lower, stretching forward. Swallowing against the rank odor, he gave a weak, whimpering yowl.

He pricked his ears. Nothing.

Tentatively, he climbed over the lip of the hole and crept into the darkness. The snow turned to earth beneath his belly as he slithered in. The fox stench was suffocating. He held his breath and crawled farther into the pitch-black lair.

Pain seared his tail as sharp teeth clamped it and dragged him backward. He scrabbled at the earth, struggling to turn, but the fox had caught him, and with a growl it hauled him from the hole and flung him out into the snow. Lionblaze sprang to his paws and faced the fox as it slunk out from under the elderberry bush. It stared back at him, its black eyes bright with hatred. Its snout was still scarred from yesterday’s battle.

Lionblaze stood his ground, hissing. The fox showed its teeth. Then it rushed at him. Lionblaze reared up, meeting it with a flurry of swipes. But the weight of the fox hurled him backward. Lionblaze landed with a thump that knocked his breath away. He twisted, tail thrashing as he tried to stand, but heavy paws slammed him harder against the ground. Jaws snapped at his ear, and saliva sprayed his face.

Struggling for breath, Lionblaze dug his claws into the snowy ground and hauled himself forward, leaping to his paws as soon as he was clear. The power of the fox had startled him. He’d never fought an animal as big as this. He’d have to move faster. With any luck, the fox couldn’t match his speed. Lionblaze spun around, claws slashing.

Too late!

Pain scoured his flesh, and Lionblaze felt his paws lift from the ground. He churned at the air, panic rising. The fox’s teeth were pressing deep into his shoulder. For the first time ever, he feared his flesh would rip.

Dovepaw was standing only tail-lengths away, her mouth wide. “I’ll get help!” she screeched.

“No!” Lionblaze twisted and lashed out, blocking agony as the fox’s teeth stretched his pelt. Triumph flickered in his belly as he felt fur and flesh rip beneath his claws, and the fox let go with a howl.

Time slowed down.

The snowy ground met Lionblaze’s paws. He spun on his haunches and reached out with one paw. Claws stretched wide, he met the fox’s snarling face with a ferocious blow. Saliva drenched his pad as a flick of the fox’s snout sent Lionblaze staggering backward. It dived again. Lionblaze met it with another vicious swipe. Blood sprayed his muzzle, and he heard the fox wail.

As red fur blurred in front of him, Lionblaze pressed his hind legs into the ground and leaped. He sprang high and clear of the fox’s jaws and landed on its shoulders. The fox felt solid beneath him, like warm earth; it bucked and reared, turning this way and that, snapping at Lionblaze over its shoulder and yelping with frustration. But Lionblaze gripped on, keeping just out of reach.

Digging every claw deeper, he sank his teeth into the fox’s fur, feeling flesh tear and tugging harder. Blood throbbed from the wound, filling Lionblaze’s mouth. The fox sank beneath him with a howl. Lionblaze froze, his teeth still embedded in flesh. He waited for a moment.

The fox lay still, its flanks heaving, a soft whine in its throat. Lionblaze let go and backed off. Crouching, he stared at the fox through a haze of blood. The creature stirred and hauled itself to its paws. Gasping and whining, it headed for the hole. Lionblaze darted forward, snarling and blocking its way. The fox stared at him with wide, terrified eyes and veered past the elderberry bush. With a flick of its scarlet, blood-flecked tail, it headed into the bracken.

Dovepaw slid out from the holly bush, her pelt standing on end. Without speaking, she began to herd the fox onward. Slashing at it from either side, they drove it along the ShadowClan border, making sure it didn’t cross into ShadowClan territory, growling threateningly if it tried to break away into the heart of ThunderClan’s forest. Together they drove it away from the lake and up out of Clan land.

As the slope steepened and oak turned to ash around them, the fox scrambled ahead and vanished under a lump of brambles.

“That’s far enough.” Panting, Lionblaze sat down.

Dovepaw halted beside him and watched the leaves quiver where the fox had disappeared.

“It won’t come back.” Lionblaze’s legs started to shake. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Dovepaw eyed him warily. “Are you hurt?”

“Just tired.” The fight had crushed all the energy from him, and he found himself leaning on Dovepaw as they headed back. He hardly saw where they walked, letting Dovepaw lead. When the scent of the hollow began to touch his muzzle, he paused. The snow felt wonderfully cold against his stinging claws.

“Just let me get my breath back,” he meowed to Dovepaw.

Her eyes were dark. “Are you sure you’re not wounded? You’re covered in blood.”

As Lionblaze gazed down at his pelt, a shriek ripped the air. He stiffened and looked up to see Cinderheart staring at him. Her face was frozen, her eyes wild with horror. “Lionblaze?”

She dashed toward him, sniffing frantically. “What happened? Where are you hurt?” Then she turned and ran. “I’ll get help!” she screeched over her shoulder.

Lionblaze wanted to chase after her and reassure her that it wasn’t his blood, but his paws were still heavy and his mind thick with exhaustion. Blood dripped from his pelt, turning the snow below him crimson. Cinderheart was going to send panic through the Clan.

“We’d better hurry,” he grunted.

“Clean yourself up first,” Dovepaw advised.

Lionblaze lapped at his pelt, gagging at the slimy nettle tang of the fox’s blood.

“Roll yourself in the snow,” Dovepaw suggested.

Lionblaze lay down and wriggled as hard as he could in the cold wet snow. When he clambered to his paws, a wide patch of red stained the white forest floor.

Dovepaw plucked at the ground. “Let’s hope we get back before a rescue patrol arrives.”

Lionblaze felt his energy returning. The snow had refreshed him, and now his heart quickened as he imagined Cinderheart yowling through the camp that he’d been horribly injured.

They met the rescue patrol on the slope outside the hollow.

“Are you all right?” Firestar headed the patrol. Brambleclaw, Graystripe, and Birchfall paced around them, ears and tails twitching.

“What in the name of StarClan happened to you?” Graystripe sniffed warily at Lionblaze.

“We met the fox,” Lionblaze growled.

Birchfall flattened his ears. “Where?” He scanned the trees.

“We’ve chased it out of our territory,” Lionblaze reassured them. “It won’t come back.”

Graystripe guided Lionblaze toward the thorn barrier with his tail. “We’d better get you to the medicine den. Cinderheart’s already helping Jayfeather prepare herbs for you. She made it sound like you were on your last legs.”

Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched as he imagined Jayfeather muttering under his breath while Cinderheart insisted he unpack all his herbs for wounds that would prove to be nonexistent.

Firestar glanced at Dovepaw. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Lionblaze did most of the fighting,” she mewed. “I just helped guide it off our land.”

“It didn’t stray onto ShadowClan’s territory?” Firestar’s tail twitched.

“No,” Lionblaze told him. “We drove it up toward the mountains.” Why was Firestar always so concerned about the other Clans? They should deal with their own problems.

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “We’d better check.” He turned to Brambleclaw. “Fetch a patrol and go and make sure the fox has definitely gone.”

Brambleclaw bounded back to camp.

“Come on.” Graystripe nudged Lionblaze gently toward the hollow. “Let’s get you home.”

As they entered camp, Lionblaze saw his Clanmates gathered around the clearing.

“Well done, Lionblaze!” Ferncloud called.

Mousefur shook her graying head. “They’ll be telling this story in the elders’ den long after I’ve left it.”

“How did you do it?” Sorreltail stared at Lionblaze in undisguised admiration.

“Are you hurt badly?” Daisy was frowning.

Graystripe prodded Lionblaze toward the medicine den. “Enough questions. Let Jayfeather check him over first.”

Pushing through the brambles, Lionblaze was relieved to be in the peace of the medicine den. Cinderheart looked up sharply as he entered, a pile of herbs at her paws.

“Are you really okay?” she rasped. “I thought they might have to carry you back.” The words caught in her throat.

Jayfeather padded forward. “I’ve had Cinderheart mixing herbs ready to treat you.” He nodded to the gray she-cat. “Thanks for your help, but you can go now. I’ll need quiet to treat him properly.”

Cinderheart’s ears twitched. “I could help,” she offered.

“No,” Jayfeather told her firmly. “Thank you.” He fixed his sightless blue gaze on her until she dipped her head and padded toward the brambles.

Briarlight was straining in her nest, craning to see Lionblaze. “I thought you were dead by the way she was carrying on.”

Jayfeather tossed her a ball of moss. “Do your exercises,” he ordered.

Briarlight grunted but dutifully began to toss the moss ball from one paw to the other, stretching farther and farther each time to keep it in the air.

Jayfeather led Lionblaze to the back of the den. “Are you happy now that you’re everyone’s hero?” he asked sharply.

“It had to be done.” Lionblaze felt stung.

“Not by you alone.”

Lionblaze bristled. “The fox has gone,” he hissed. “No one’s hurt.”

“Well, you can be the one to explain how that happened.”

“Can’t you just clean me up and smear a bit of ointment on me to make it look convincing?”

Jayfeather sighed. “Okay.” He led Lionblaze toward the pool at the side of the den and began to wash him with moss soaked in the icy water.

Exhausted by the fight, Lionblaze let Jayfeather clean his fur. But the quarrel with Dovepaw lingered in his mind.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t stop Ivypaw from going to the Dark Forest?” he whispered, one eye on Briarlight, still busy juggling in her nest. “Dovepaw’s worried about her.”

“Ivypaw’s okay.” Jayfeather dipped a fresh wad of moss into the pool. “She hasn’t come to me with any of her injuries and she hasn’t shown any sign of disloyalty to ThunderClan. We might as well use her to keep an eye on Tigerstar.”

“Then we should speak to her,” Lionblaze reasoned.

“And tell her what? To start spying?” Jayfeather swabbed Lionblaze’s ears roughly. “Remember what happened when you asked Dovepaw to spy for us? Let’s wait, then talk to her. She’ll have more to tell us, and she won’t feel like we’re using her.”

Lionblaze grunted and closed his eyes, resting until Jayfeather had finished.

“These should convince our Clanmates that you at least got a scratch or two.” Jayfeather rubbed a final blob of chewed herbs between Lionblaze’s shoulder blades.

Briarlight’s moss ball came sailing across the den and landed at Lionblaze’s paws. He scooped it up and threw it back.

“Are you okay now?” Briarlight asked.

“Fresh as a newborn kit,” Lionblaze told her.

Jayfeather snorted and started bundling away the herbs he’d unpacked from his store.

“Thanks, Jay,” Lionblaze murmured.

Jayfeather didn’t look up. “Would there be any point in telling you to be a bit more careful next time?” he muttered. “We don’t know for sure how far your powers stretch.”

Lionblaze touched his nose to the top of Jayfeather’s head. “Okay.” He headed for the entrance. “See you later, Briarlight,” he called as he nosed his way through the brambles.

Cinderheart was waiting outside. She hurried toward him and started sniffing at the streaks of ointment. “I wasn’t sure you’d be out so soon…” Her mew trailed away, and she sniffed harder. “I can only smell the ointment,” she meowed slowly. “I don’t smell blood.”

Lionblaze edged away from her. “Jayfeather used some strong herbs,” he meowed. “They block most of the scent.”

Her eyes grew round. “You sound like nothing happened today.” Was that irritation in her mew? “You just took on a fox, single-pawed. You were drenched in blood.”

Lionblaze shrugged. “I’ve been trained to fight.”

“You looked like you were bleeding to death!” Anguish shone in her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Lionblaze pressed his muzzle to her cheek. “You’ll never lose me,” he promised, his heart pricking with guilt.

“No!” Cinderheart flinched away from him. “I can’t do this. I can’t feel this way every time you go into battle.”

“Don’t say that!” Lionblaze’s heart lurched. “All warriors go into battle. But that doesn’t stop them from having mates.”

“Most warriors don’t hurl themselves right into the middle of every battle, or go out hunting foxes while everyone’s asleep!”

“But I’m okay! Look at me!”

“You can’t be!” Cinderheart stared at him, her eyes glazing. “All that blood!” Her tail trembled.

Lionblaze checked the clearing. Dustpelt was organizing hunting patrols. Daisy was washing a complaining Cherrykit while Molekit scrambled up her broad cream back. Berrynose and Hazeltail were busy weaving birch stems into the torn barrier.

No one was listening.

“I need to tell you something,” he whispered to Cinderheart. Wrapping his tail around her shoulders, he led her into the bramble patch beside the medicine den. Ducking between the tangled branches, he beckoned with his tail for her to follow. She crept in after him, eyes wide with curiosity.

“There’s something you need to understand.” Lionblaze stared straight at her. “Something that will reassure you that I won’t ever be hurt.”

She blinked at him.

“I can’t be wounded,” he blurted out.

She snorted. “You’ve certainly been lucky so far.”

“No!” Lionblaze shook his head. “There was a prophecy, many moons ago. It was given to Firestar. It was about cats who’d have more power than any others in all the Clans.”

Cinderheart tipped her head to one side, listening.

“I’m one of them. I’m one of those cats. I can’t get hurt. That’s my power. Not in battle, not with foxes, not by anything.” He stared at her, willing her to understand. To believe what he was saying.

Cinderheart sat back and stared at him. “There’s a prophecy?” she murmured. “About you?”

Lionblaze nodded. She understood!

“And you’ll never get hurt.” Cinderheart glanced at the ointment smears again.

“No.”

“So that you can protect the Clan.”

“Yes.” Lionblaze leaned forward, relieved that she’d taken it all so calmly. “You never need to worry about me again.” He ran his cheek along hers, his heart warming at her scent. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“No!” She jerked away and backed out of the brambles, her eyes glittering with grief. “We can’t do this. I can’t be your mate. Not if StarClan has given you this power.”

Lionblaze’s blood froze. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You have a much greater destiny than me!” Cinderheart whispered. “We can’t do this anymore!” With a wail she turned and fled toward the warriors’ den.