Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 14

Squirrelflight glanced anxiously at Sparkpelt. Her daughter was calmer now that they’d moved Larksong to the medicine den, but her eyes were still shadowed with fear as she watched over her mate, who lay unconscious in one of the nests at the edge of the small hollow.

Leafpool paced as Alderheart leaned over Larksong, wiping away the dark liquid pooling at the side of the warrior’s mouth. Jayfeather rummaged quickly through the herb store once more.

“Should we give him more yarrow?” Alderheart asked the blind medicine cat.

Jayfeather shook his head. “He’s too weak, and besides, we’re not sure this is caused by something he ate.”

Sparkpelt’s pelt ruffled along her spine. “There must be something you can try.”

Jayfeather tore open a bundle of chervil. “We could see if he can swallow a few of these leaves.”

Leafpool stopped beside Squirrelflight. “Let’s talk outside,” she murmured.

Squirrelflight’s belly tightened as Leafpool guided her toward the entrance. “Is Sparkpelt all right?” As concerned as she was about Larksong, she was more afraid for Sparkpelt’s kits.

“She’s fine and so are the kits.” Leafpool nosed her way through the brambles.

“But she’s so upset.” Squirrelflight followed her through. The drizzle had eased, but raindrops still dripped from the canopy into the clearing.

“I can feel the kits moving,” Leafpool told her. “And Sparkpelt hasn’t had any cramps. I’ve given her thyme to help with the shock. She’s strong and sensible. She’ll be okay.” Her gaze darkened. “I just wish we knew what was wrong with Larksong. His breathing has steadied, but it’s still shallow. And his heartbeat is weak.”

Squirrelflight fought back fear. “Have you seen anything like it before?”

“No.” Leafpool gazed toward the trailing brambles. “Even Jayfeather is baffled. He says he’s never smelled a sickness like this. And we’ve never seen a sickness that stopped a cat breathing so suddenly.”

“Could it be contagious?” Squirrelflight’s heart lurched. Larksong had nuzzled Sparkpelt before he collapsed.

“We don’t know.” Leafpool looked at her helplessly. “He’s bringing up bile, which makes us think that the sickness is in his belly. But that’s all we know.” She looked toward the clearing. Bramblestar sat at the edge with Thornclaw and Finleap. Twigbranch and Birchfall stood nearby. Outside the elders’ den, Millie and Graystripe eyed the medicine den anxiously, while Hollytuft paced beside them. Leafpool called to Hollytuft. “You were on patrol with Larksong this morning. Did you see anything unusual while you were out?” Leafpool called.

Hollytuft twitched her tail. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We caught a squirrel, but we put it on the fresh-kill pile when we got back.”

Leafpool glanced toward the pile. There was nothing left but the few bedraggled mice Graystripe had turned his nose up at earlier. “What did Larksong eat before he got sick?”

Squirrelflight frowned. “He said he’d had two mice before he came to the nursery.”

Bramblestar got to his paws. “Check the prey,” he told Hollytuft. “But be careful.”

As Hollytuft hurried toward the fresh-kill pile, Twigbranch glanced at it nervously. “Do you think it was something he ate?” the young warrior asked.

“The prey might have been rotten,” Finleap suggested.

“But we only caught it this morning,” Thornclaw pointed out. “It was fresh.”

“Perhaps he ate sick prey,” Twigbranch mewed.

Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes. “Surely he would have smelled the sickness before he ate it?”

Outside the elders’ den, Graystripe pricked his ears. “He might have been too hungry to notice.”

Millie sniffed beside him. “No cat is too hungry to smell sickness in prey. Even a kit would know that kind of sourness.”

Bramblestar fluffed out his fur. “If it’s a new sickness, we wouldn’t recognize it.”

Hollytuft sat back on her haunches beside the fresh-kill pile. “It all smells fresh and healthy to me,” she told Bramblestar.

“We should get rid of it anyway,” Bramblestar answered.

“I’ll see to it.” Squirrelflight wanted something to keep her busy. She headed toward the pile.

“Help her, Hollytuft.” Bramblestar nodded toward the black she-cat, then glanced toward the apprentices’ den. Flippaw and Bristlepaw were watching anxiously from the entrance. “You two can help, too,” he told them.

They hurried out eagerly, as though relieved to be given something to do.

Squirrelflight beckoned them with a flick of her tail and sniffed the mice. “Let’s take them out of camp and bury them in the forest.” She caught Hollytuft’s eye. “We can dig a hole between the brambles at the top of the slope.”

Hollytuft nodded. “We’ll need to dig it deep to stop foxes finding them.”

Flippaw blinked at her. “Why do we care if foxes get sick from this prey?”

“Sickness harms everyone,” she told him. “Do you want a fox carcass rotting near the camp?”

Bristlepaw looked warily at the prey. “What if we get sick from carrying it?”

“We’ll carry it carefully.” Squirrelflight rolled one of the mice closer with her paw. “Let me show you.” She nodded to Hollytuft. “Take Flippaw and start digging,” she ordered. “We’ll bring the prey.”

As Hollytuft and Flippaw headed away, Squirrelflight touched the back of the mouse’s neck with her paw. “This part is like a kit’s scruff,” she told him. “The skin’s tougher here so its mother can carry it.”

Bristlepaw blinked at her. “I never thought about prey having mothers.”

“Everything has a mother.” She pressed her paw into the mouse’s scruff. “You can pick it up using your teeth, but hold it gently. Because the skin is tougher here, it’s less likely to bleed. Draw your lips back and keep your tongue out of the way. You don’t want to swallow any fur or blood.”

Bristlepaw leaned down and took the mouse’s neck gingerly between her jaws. She lifted it up, glancing uncertainly at Squirrelflight.

“That’s good,” she told her. “Now take it to Hollytuft. Be careful not to let it swing too much. The skin might tear.”

As Bristlepaw padded slowly away, Squirrelflight picked up another mouse and headed after her. It had been a while since she’d trained an apprentice, and she’d forgotten the satisfaction of teaching warrior skills to young cats. Was she being selfish in wanting kits of her own? Being part of a Clan was what made warriors strong, not only having kin. Perhaps it was enough to pass her skills to the next generation, no matter whose kit it was. She thought of the Sisters and how they raised their young together. The Clans weren’t so different. Surely her Clanmates were enough like family for her not to need more kin of her own?

Squirrelflight left Hollytuft and Flippaw scraping earth over the hole they’d buried the mice in and headed back toward camp. Her paws were muddy from digging and her muscles ached. Bristlepaw sat back on her haunches, looking pleased with her work.

Hollytuft called after her. “Should I take Flippaw and Bristlepaw hunting to find fresh prey?”

Flippaw and Bristlepaw pricked their ears eagerly.

“Good idea,” Squirrelflight called back. “But don’t hunt where you hunted earlier.” She’d need to find out where today’s prey had been caught before she organized tomorrow’s patrols. If it was prey that had made Larksong sick, ThunderClan would have to be careful about the fresh-kill they brought into the camp.

She hurried through the thorn tunnel and crossed the clearing. Twigbranch and Finleap were laying rain-washed ferns over the bloody patch of earth where the fresh-kill pile had sat. Thornclaw and Birchfall murmured together, their muzzles close. Honeyfur, Berrynose, and Whitewing glanced anxiously at the medicine den.

The brambles at the medicine den’s entrance shivered, and Sparkpelt pushed her way out. Her eyes were clouded with tiredness, her pelt ruffled and unwashed. Leafpool followed her out and began to guide her toward the nursery. Squirrelflight hurried to meet them. “How’s Larksong?” she asked Sparkpelt, searching her daughter’s gaze for a flash of hope. Sparkpelt looked back at her blankly.

“Larksong’s still unconscious,” Leafpool told her. “But he’s stable for now. I’m taking Sparkpelt back to the nursery to rest.”

“I want to stay with Larksong,” Sparkpelt whispered.

“He’s in good paws,” Leafpool promised. “You need to rest. Away from all the fuss. You have to think about your kits.”

“I guess.” Sparkpelt’s tail dragged as she padded toward the nursery.

Leafpool lowered her voice. “I wish I could give her hope, but we still don’t know what’s wrong with Larksong.”

“Go back to the medicine den.” Squirrelflight ignored the fear sparking in her chest. “I’ll look after Sparkpelt.” She hurried to follow her daughter into the nursery.

Inside, Daisy blinked from the shadows. The pale queen’s eyes were round with worry. “Any news?”

Sparkpelt shook her head and slumped into her nest.

“Leafpool, Alderheart, and Jayfeather are doing everything they can,” Squirrelflight told Daisy.

“Do they know what caused it?”

“They’re not sure.”

As Squirrelflight spoke, Sparkpelt lifted her head sharply. Anger flashed in her eyes. “It was something he ate!” She heaved herself to her paws and glared at Squirrelflight. “He said he felt tired after eating so much; then he collapsed and stopped breathing. It has to be the food! We should be doing something about it!”

Squirrelflight blinked at her. “We’ve cleaned out the fresh-kill pile. We can’t do more than that.”

“This should have never happened!” Sparkpelt was bristling.

“Of course not,” Squirrelflight agreed.

“It’ll be okay,” Daisy soothed.

“I don’t know why nobody is saying what’s obvious!” Sparkpelt’s whiskers trembled. “ShadowClan poisoned the fresh-kill pile! They were in the camp this morning, weren’t they?”

“How could they have?” Squirrelflight stared at her in surprise. “We were watching them the whole time.”

“SkyClan watched them too,” Sparkpelt shot back. “But they still managed to poison Sparrowpelt.”

Squirrelflight remembered how Juniperclaw, ShadowClan’s former deputy, had nearly killed a SkyClan warrior by leaving prey laced with deathberries on SkyClan’s fresh-kill pile. The act had driven Leafstar to lead SkyClan away from the lake and had nearly destroyed the Clans. Surely they wouldn’t do it again?

She realized that Sparkpelt was still staring at her. “This isn’t deathberry poisoning. Leafpool would know if it were. Besides, when Juniperclaw poisoned Sparrowpelt, he acted alone,” she argued. “And he’s dead now. Tigerstar would never let such a thing happen again.”

“Really?” Sparkpelt looked unconvinced.

“Of course not.” Squirrelflight’s heart quickened.

“Even when ThunderClan keeps bullying him?” Sparkpelt glared at her. “We won’t let Tigerstar get even with the Sisters after they hurt one of his Clanmates. Why did you have to bring them here in the first place?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Squirrelflight mewed defensively. “I was trying to help SkyClan.”

Sparkpelt wasn’t listening. “Now we’ve made a secret alliance with WindClan. For all we know, Tigerstar’s found out that we sheltered the Sisters too. That would be enough to make him want to hurt us. Bramblestar keeps making decisions that make life hard for ShadowClan. Is he trying to make Tigerstar angry?”

“This isn’t Bramblestar’s fault.” Squirrelflight lifted her chin. “Your father is just doing what he thinks is right.”

“And he doesn’t care who gets hurt!”

Daisy padded tentatively forward. “Bramblestar would never hurt any cat.”

“He just wants peace,” Squirrelflight chimed. “That’s why he’s trying to appease WindClan, and why he won’t join a war against the Sisters.”

Sparkpelt flattened her ears. “So it’s okay if Larksong dies, as long as WindClan and the Sisters are happy!”

“No!” Frustration scorched Squirrelflight’s pelt. Sparkpelt didn’t know what she was saying. “Larksong’s not ill because of what Bramblestar has done.”

“I don’t believe you!” Sparkpelt hissed. “If Bramblestar hadn’t gone against Tigerstar so many times, Larksong would be fine now!”

The brambles rustled at the entrance. “What’s going on?” Bramblestar nosed his way in, anxiety glittering in his gaze. “I heard yowling.”

Daisy looked at him anxiously. “Sparkpelt’s upset, that’s all. She’s had a difficult day.”

Sparkpelt snarled at him. “Do you admit it?”

“Admit what?” He looked taken aback.

“If you hadn’t done everything you could to make Tigerstar angry, Larksong would be fine now!” Sparkpelt’s eyes narrowed into slits.

Bramblestar stared at her, his pelt ruffling along his spine. “I don’t understand.” He glanced questioningly at Squirrelflight.

“She’s worried that ShadowClan might have poisoned the fresh-kill pile when they visited the camp earlier.” Squirrelflight shifted uneasily. She was angry with Bramblestar, but he didn’t deserve this. He had enough worries already. And yet Sparkpelt was clearly suffering. Please don’t argue.

Bramblestar tipped his head to one side and blinked at Sparkpelt. “How could they have poisoned the prey? We were all here watching them.”

“They’ve done it before!” Sparkpelt hissed.

Daisy looked anxiously from father to daughter. “Juniperclaw did that, and he’s dead now,” she repeated.

“All ShadowClan cats are the same.” Sparkpelt flexed her claws. “They’d poison their own mothers for more territory.”

“That’s not true.” Squirrelflight edged closer to Sparkpelt. She had to calm her down. This couldn’t be doing the kits any good. “ShadowClan cats are warriors just like us. They wouldn’t break the warrior code.”

Sparkpelt held her ground. “They would if they were pushed far enough, and Bramblestar has done nothing but get in Tigerstar’s way.” She glared accusingly at her father.

“Bramblestar’s been doing what’s best for the Clans,” Squirrelflight argued.

“Why are you sticking up for him?” Sparkpelt stared at her. “He’s hardly spoken to you in days. He’s been treating you like an apprentice. And you’re defending him! Why are you being such a mouse-heart?”

Bramblestar’s hackles lifted. “Don’t talk to your mother like that!” he hissed. “I don’t care how upset you are. Hurting cats who love you isn’t going to help Larksong. It’s just going to make everyone as miserable as you are. I’m sorry Larksong is ill, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure he gets well again, but don’t accuse your mother of being a mouse-heart. She’s one of the bravest warriors I know. And I am doing everything I can to keep peace among the Clans. I have to stand up to Tigerstar, or he’ll push SkyClan around forever.” Hurt glittered suddenly in the ThunderClan leader’s gaze. “It’s hard standing up for what you believe in, and it’s even harder when the cats who are supposed to support you undermine you instead.”

As his gaze flashed from Sparkpelt to Squirrelflight, claws seemed to pierce Squirrelflight’s heart. Bramblestar’s tail swept the ground. “I’m trying to lead a Clan! How can I expect my warriors to follow me if my own kin challenge me at every turn?” Growling, he pushed his way out of the den.

Daisy shifted her paws. “It’s been a difficult day for everyone.” She gazed sympathetically at Squirrelflight. “Why don’t you get some air, and I’ll make sure Sparkpelt rests.”

Sparkpelt was staring after her father, her eyes hollow with grief. “I’m sorry.” She dragged her gaze to Squirrelflight.

“It’s okay,” Squirrelflight murmured. “I know you’re upset.” She felt suddenly weary. “You’ll feel better in the morning. And I’m sure Leafpool will have found a way to help Larksong by then.” She touched her nose to Sparkpelt’s head, then headed out of the den, relieved to leave her daughter in Daisy’s care for a while. She crossed to the medicine den. Had Leafpool, Jayfeather, and Alderheart come up with a cure? She ducked inside, disappointment dropping like a stone in her belly as she saw Leafpool and Jayfeather murmuring, heads close together at the back of the cave. They looked as worried as ever, and Alderheart was wiping another drop of bile from Larksong’s lips.

Lilyheart, Larksong’s mother, sat beside the nest, her eyes round with worry. She blinked at Squirrelflight when she saw her. “What could have caused this?”

Squirrelflight shook her head. “We don’t know.”

“Could it be deathberry poisoning?” Lilyheart fretted.

“There are no deathberries in the camp,” Squirrelflight meowed, irritated.

“ShadowClan might have brought some. We know Puddleshine uses them.”

Leafpool looked up. “This isn’t deathberry poisoning. We don’t recognize these symptoms.”

Lilyheart’s pelt bristled. “They might have found another poison!”

Squirrelflight fixed Lilyheart’s gaze with her own. “ShadowClan had nothing to do with this.” She mustn’t let rumors about ShadowClan’s involvement in Larksong’s illness take hold. There was enough tension among the Clans already. “Larksong’s illness is a shock and a tragedy. He’s always been a strong, healthy warrior, and it’s frightening to see him get so sick so quickly. But we’re going to find out what caused it.” She eyed Leafpool desperately. “And we’re going to find out how to cure it.” Fear wormed in her belly as Leafpool’s gaze darkened. She was making Lilyheart promises they might not be able to keep, but she had to give the small, dark tabby hope. This sickness had come from nowhere. It could have been caused by anything. Larksong might be only the first cat to be struck down by a sickness the Clans had never experienced before. And if it spread, hope might be all that ThunderClan had.