Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 7

Flippaw stopped as he crossed the clearing, a bundle of fresh moss for the elders’ den between his jaws. He dropped it as he reached Squirrelflight. “I’m glad you’re back. Hollytuft said the Sisters wanted to keep you captive forever.” He blinked at her eagerly. “She said they were twice the size of normal cats. Were they scary?”

Squirrelflight twitched her tail. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d answered questions about the Sisters since she’d returned yesterday. “They were nice,” she told him patiently.

Flippaw looked puzzled. “But they held you hostage.”

“Yes, but they shared their prey with us and took care of Leafstar’s wounded paw.” Why were her Clanmates so surprised that cats could be kind and yet still stand up for themselves?

Flippaw tipped his head to one side. “Is that why you didn’t try to escape?”

Squirrelflight swallowed back irritation. “Leafstar’s injury made it hard to escape, and I wasn’t going to leave her.”

“But you said they were nice. She would have been okay.”

“It wouldn’t have been right to escape by myself.” Didn’t young cats understand loyalty?

But Flippaw had moved on. “Were they rogues?” He stared at her intently. “Bristlepaw said they used to be part of Darktail’s Kin.”

“Of course they weren’t.” Squirrelflight flicked her tail sharply. She was relieved to see Hollytuft padding from the fresh-kill pile.

The black warrior looked sternly at Flippaw. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning out the elders’ den?”

His tail drooped. “I wanted to find out about the new Clan.”

“I told you,” Hollytuft mewed. “It isn’t a Clan. It’s just some cats who live near the mountains. Squirrelflight was unlucky to run into them.”

“Why were you near the mountains?” Flippaw blinked at Squirrelflight. “Are we moving there? Thriftpaw says one of the Clans has to move before leaf-bare or we’ll all starve.”

“No one is going to starve.” Hollytuft looked at Squirrelflight apologetically. “Trying to stop apprentices gossiping is like trying to stop birds singing.”

Squirrelflight’s gaze drifted around the clearing. The whole Clan had been talking about her time with the Sisters since she’d gotten back. Now her Clanmates were settling down for a midday meal. Whitewing and Honeyfur carried mice from the fresh-kill pile. Larksong dropped a vole at Dewnose’s paws. Finleap and Twigbranch settled beside the warriors’ den, snatching glances at Squirrelflight before tucking into a rabbit. Rosepetal blinked at her sympathetically, as though she’d just recovered from an illness.

Graystripe sat beside Millie outside the elders’ den. Millie looked gaunt, and Graystripe sat close to her. “You must be glad to be back, Squirrelflight,” he called across the clearing. “Another cat’s food never tastes as good as your own.”

“Imagine!” Cloudtail stretched beside him. “A group of cats with no toms. Who’s heard of such a thing? I hope they didn’t give you any ideas.” He blinked teasingly at Squirrelflight. “I don’t know what Graystripe and I would do if Millie and Brightheart threw us out.”

Millie purred roughly. “The den would be a lot neater.”

Graystripe nudged her cheek with his nose. “But you’d miss me, right?”

Millie nosed him away, her eyes shimmering with affection. “Of course I would, you old fool.” For a moment the fragility that had appeared in the old she-cat’s face since the start of greenleaf vanished.

Small stones showered from the rock tumble, and Squirrelflight looked up to see Bramblestar scrambling down from the Highledge. She looked away to avoid catching his eye. Since she’d returned from the Sisters’ camp, he’d been polite but formal. Her heart ached at being kept at tail’s length, but she understood why he was still angry. She’d caused a lot of worry and disruption in the Clan. But she wished he hadn’t told her he was thinking about replacing her as deputy. She’d been taken captive by the Sisters only because she had been trying to find a way to keep the peace among the Clans. He wanted peace too. Why couldn’t he support her plan instead of criticizing her for it?

“Squirrelflight.” He padded toward her, his gaze cool.

She dipped her head. “Bramblestar.”

“Who do you plan to send on dawn patrol tomorrow?” He glanced around the Clan.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Bramblestar frowned and padded softly into the shadow of the Highledge. He beckoned Squirrelflight closer with a twitch of his tail. “I thought I asked you to let me know in advance of any decisions you make as deputy,” he mewed, lowering his voice.

Anger flared in her belly. “I never decide who’s going on patrol until the morning,” she told him icily. “I like to see who’s awake. It’s no use waking one warrior when another warrior is already itching to get out into the forest.”

“That’s sloppy. A warrior should know if he’s going on patrol and be ready.” Bramblestar’s ears twitched. “From now on, I want to know who’s going out on dawn patrol the night before.”

Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “Is that how it’s going to be now? Are you going to make up mouse-brained rules just to prove you’re in charge?”

“You’re my deputy,” he told her. “I need to know that you can follow orders.”

“Or you’ll replace me. I know. I get the message.” Squirrelflight glared at him.

Bramblestar met her gaze evenly. “I need to know I can trust you.”

“Of course you can trust me! I love you and I love my Clan. I would never do anything to hurt you or them.” The Sisters’ life seemed suddenly appealing. The idea that Moonlight would invent pointless rules for Snow and the others to follow seemed ridiculous. Bramblestar was supposed to be her mate. Why couldn’t he talk to her instead of trying to make her feel small?

Bramblestar sniffed. “I’m just worried that your judgment is not as sound as it should be.”

“Not sound?” Squirrelflight stared at him in disbelief. “Because I came up with a plan and tried to follow it through?”

“Because your plan put SkyClan and ThunderClan in danger.” He stared at her accusingly.

“The Sisters aren’t a danger to any—” She stopped as she noticed Sparkpelt staring at them from the edge of the clearing.

The orange warrior’s gaze flicked anxiously from Bramblestar to Squirrelflight. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” Squirrelflight forced her fur to smooth and hurried toward Sparkpelt. “We were just discussing patrols.”

Sparkpelt looked doubtful. “I wanted to talk to you both,” she mewed hesitantly. “But I can come back later.”

“No,” Squirrelflight mewed quickly.

“You’re not interrupting.” Bramblestar padded to join them, his gaze softening as he greeted Sparkpelt with the touch of his nose.

Claws seemed to grip Squirrelflight’s heart. She missed feeling close to Bramblestar.

Sparkpelt looked at them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Squirrelflight’s pelt pricked with unease as she noticed how nervous Sparkpelt looked, and yet the young warrior’s pelt was glossy and her eyes bright. She’d never looked healthier. What could be wrong?

“I’m expecting kits.” Sparkpelt blinked at her.

“Sparkpelt, that’s wonderful.” Happiness surged beneath Squirrelflight’s pelt. She glanced across the clearing to where Larksong was sharing a vole with Dewnose. The young tom was chatting to his denmate, his ears pricked, his eyes sparkling. Sparkpelt was going to be a mother, and her mate was a kind tom and a good warrior. Sparkpelt and Alderheart were both happy and settled. What more could she want?

And yet grief tugged at her belly. She longed for kits too—and a mate who still loved her. The possibility seemed suddenly far away. Her thoughts spiraled. Was she foolish for even wanting it? Should she resign herself to spending the rest of her days watching her Clan grow and change around her while she simply grew old and died?

“Squirrelflight?” Sparkpelt blinked at her anxiously. “You are pleased, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m pleased. And Bramblestar is too.” She glanced at him.

Bramblestar was staring back at her, sympathy glistening in his eyes. Had he guessed what she’d been thinking? As she caught his eye, he looked away and touched his nose to Sparkpelt’s head. “That’s great news, Sparkpelt. We’re very happy for you. When are the kits due?”

“I’m not sure.” Sparkpelt was purring, her pelt fluffed with happiness.

Squirrelflight glanced at the young queen’s belly. It was already beginning to swell. “It looks like it won’t be too long,” she mewed warmly.

Sparkpelt pressed her cheek against Squirrelflight’s. “I can’t wait to be a mother.” She headed away. Larksong jumped to his paws and brushed against her as she reached him.

Squirrelflight turned back to Bramblestar, her feelings hardening once more. Were there any more rules he wanted to tell her about?

He was gazing at her kindly. “I know that must have been difficult,” he murmured.

Squirrelflight stiffened guiltily, ashamed of the grief Sparkpelt’s news had triggered. It was worse that Bramblestar had seen it. “I’m happy for her. I’m happy for them both.”

“But I know how much you want more kits,” he meowed.

She narrowed her eyes, anger flaring. “And I know how much you don’t.” She turned her tail on him and marched away. With every paw step, her anger melted and guilt took its place. Why had she said that? He was only trying to be kind. Overwhelmed, she headed to the medicine den. She needed to share her feelings with some cat. She remembered how relieved Leafpool had been when she’d returned to camp—surely she would understand.

She ducked through the brambles and saw Alderheart crouching beside the pool, sorting herbs. Leafpool was plucking old moss from one of the nests they kept for sick cats. She looked up as Squirrelflight entered, her eyes narrowing as she saw her sister’s face. “Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Squirrelflight mewed huskily.

“Come and help me collect herbs,” Leafpool mewed.

Alderheart looked up from his work. “We collected herbs this morning.”

“I know.” Leafpool whisked her tail. “But I think we need some more marigold. It won’t flower forever.” She crossed the den and bustled Squirrelflight outside. “What’s happened?” she asked as they padded into the sunlight.

“It’s nothing, really.” Squirrelflight hesitated. “I’m probably being oversensitive.”

Leafpool whisked her onward. “Is it Sparkpelt’s news?” She reached the camp entrance and ducked through.

Squirrelflight hurried after her. “How did you know?”

“I’ve learned to tell when a cat is expecting kits.” Leafpool stopped and met Squirrelflight’s gaze. “And you’ve told me how much you want more of your own.”

Squirrelflight stared at her. “I know I should be happy.”

Leafpool swished her tail. “Come on. Some fresh air will do you good.” She raced away, heading upslope toward the beech grove.

Squirrelflight followed, relishing the breeze as it streamed through her fur. The thrum of their paws on the forest floor was soothing. The familiar sight of the trees and brambles reassured her.

Leafpool slowed down as the trees opened into a small clearing. Marigold clustered between the ferns, and she led Squirrelflight to a splash of orange where the flowers were growing thickly. Crouching beside it, the medicine cat tugged out a stalk with her teeth and dropped it on the ground. She looked at Squirrelflight. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“Is it?” Squirrelflight blinked at her.

“It must be hard to hear that Sparkpelt’s expecting when you’re not.” Leafpool tipped her head sympathetically.

Squirrelflight looked at her paws. “I feel selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to want kits.”

“I’m happy for Sparkpelt.” Squirrelflight looked at Leafpool earnestly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course you are.”

Squirrelflight sat down. “It’s just going to be difficult.” Guilt jabbed her again. “Watching my own kit have kits. I’m not ready to be that old. I want another chance. I know Sparkpelt deserves to be happy, but it’s hard watching another cat get what I want so much.”

“You deserve to be happy too.” Leafpool’s eyes rounded with sympathy.

“Bramblestar’s angry with me, and I’m probably going to die without having more kits.” Squirrelflight could feel herself sinking into self-pity, but couldn’t stop. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again.”

Leafstar plucked another marigold stalk out with her teeth. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“But it’s how I feel.” Squirrelflight glanced back toward the stone hollow. “Bramblestar says he’s wondering whether he should replace me as deputy. And he’s making up rules to test me. He doesn’t trust my judgment anymore.”

“He just needs time to calm down.” Leafpool straightened and padded toward Squirrelflight. “He was really worried when you went missing. He thought you might be dead.”

“Everything I do seems wrong at the moment. He tried to be kind to me just now, when Sparkpelt told us her news, and I snarled at him.” Squirrelflight felt suddenly as heavy as stone. “And he’s right. I shouldn’t have gone off without telling him. But I just wanted to make him see that there’s a way to stop the Clans fighting over land. And Sparkpelt …” Her shoulders sagged. “I hope she didn’t see that I was upset. I’m happy for her, I really am, but it was hard to hide how I—”

Leafpool pressed her muzzle against Squirrelflight’s cheek. “It’s okay, Squirrelflight. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.” She purred softly, and Squirrelflight felt her pain ease as the warmth from Leafpool’s cheek seeped into hers.

Squirrelflight drew away, suddenly appreciating her sister more than ever. She was still sympathetic, even after so much loss. “I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you all these moons. You’ve had to watch so many Clanmates having kits after you had to give your own away. While I was raising Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf, and loving them as if they were my own, I never fully understood how much it must have hurt.”

Leafpool met her gaze steadily. “I’m grateful you risked so much to make sure I didn’t lose my place as medicine cat. And in a way, we raised them together. I was always there for them, and I could see them and take care of them.”

Squirrelflight thought of Moonlight. We are each mother to all the young. “That’s how the Sisters raise their kits. Each cat is mother to every kit, and sister to her campmates,” she told Leafpool. “In the Sisters, no cat would have made you choose between your kits and being a medicine cat. There are no rules saying who can and can’t have kits.”

“But we’re not with the Sisters; we’re Clan cats.” Leafpool’s gaze hardened. “And no cat made me choose. I did what I thought was best.” Her mew was suddenly brittle, and Squirrelflight knew that she’d touched a nerve. “There’s no point imagining that it could have happened any other way. I did what I did, and it’s no use regretting it. My bond with StarClan was too strong to think about giving it up.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do the Sisters share with their ancestors?”

“I don’t know. Moonlight mentioned ancestors, but I don’t think they share with them like we share with StarClan. They were descended from kittypets, after all.”

Leafpool huffed. “How can they even begin to understand the bond we have with StarClan and the sacrifices we make to honor it? There’s more to being a medicine cat than knowing a few herbs or how to cure bellyache. I doubt these Sisters know what a prophecy is, and, from what you say, they are too busy living in the moment to think about what lies in their past or their future.” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t ever want to live like that.”

Squirrelflight dipped her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was just strange to see other cats living so differently.” Squirrelflight couldn’t help feeling that it might be nice to live in the moment, instead of being weighted down with rules and ancestors and traditions. She shook out her fur. “But the Sisters will move on soon, and SkyClan can have their land.”

“If StarClan approves,” Leafpool meowed sharply.

“Of course.” Didn’t Leafpool ever feel restricted by Clan rules and traditions? “Have you shared with them yet?”

Leafpool’s gaze darkened. “They’re still quiet.”

“Perhaps they’re okay with SkyClan moving.”

“Perhaps.” Leafpool looked unconvinced. “But until we have word, it’s best that SkyClan doesn’t make any decisions.”

“Even if it means peace within the Clans?”

“StarClan knows best.” Leafpool returned to the marigold patch and plucked out another stalk. Squirrelflight saw her ears twitching. She was clearly unnerved by StarClan’s silence, and talk of the Sisters hadn’t helped.

If only StarClan would share with her. They could let her know that it would be good for SkyClan to move to new territory. They might even know if Squirrelflight was destined to have more kits. Leafpool’s words flashed in her mind. Don’t rush so much, Squirrelflight. Stop trying to sort out every problem at once. Perhaps her sister was right. If she just waited, Bramblestar would get over his anger and they’d have more kits together, the Sisters would move on and SkyClan would find a new home, and the Clans would live in peace.

It was pointless trying to guess what the future held, because no cat knew. Squirrelflight looked up through the branches at the afternoon sky. Does StarClan know what will happen? A shiver ran down her spine. If they did, they weren’t giving anything away.