Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 28

“Can you hear me?”

Squirrelflight felt Alderheart’s breath on her muzzle. Like a drowning kit dragging itself from the water, she struggled into consciousness. Her head throbbed. Pain burned in her leg. But it felt easier now, as though the fox had loosened its grip. She opened her eyes.

Alderheart was staring at her, hope glittering in his eyes. He pricked his ears as she met his gaze.

“Hi,” she croaked weakly.

“Jayfeather!” Alderheart called out without taking his gaze from hers. “She’s awake!”

“I’ll fetch Bramblestar.”

Squirrelflight heard the brambles rustle, and light flicked on the roof of the medicine den.

“He’ll be here in a moment,” Alderheart told her gently. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve fallen off a cliff.” Squirrelflight tried to prop herself up on her front paws, but she didn’t have the strength, and they crumpled beneath her. Her belly tightened as she recalled Sandstorm’s words. You may never fully recover. She looked at Alderheart, searching his gaze. “How badly am I hurt?”

He ran his paws quickly over her flank and down each leg. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes.” She grunted as he lifted her hind paw.

“Can you push against me?”

She stretched her leg against his paw, wincing. He lowered it gently and tried the other paws in turn, asking her to push each time.

“Any pain?”

“Only my hind leg,” she told him. “And my head.”

Alderheart nodded. “That’s what we thought, but we couldn’t be sure until you woke up.” He peered into her eyes as though searching for something. “Do you know where you are?”

“In the ThunderClan medicine den.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Of course. How could I forget my own kit?”

He looked relieved. “You’re going to be fine.” He sat back on his haunches. “You’ve wrenched your hind leg, and there was some swelling to your head and body where the rocks hit you. But it’s starting to go down.”

Squirrelflight was hardly listening. Her injuries didn’t matter. She peered over the side of her nest. “Is Leafpool still here?”

Alderheart straightened. “She …” He hesitated, alarm flashing in his eyes. “We—we moved her. I’m afraid—”

“It’s okay.” She wanted to save him the pain of breaking the news. Her mew thickened as she swallowed back grief. “I know she’s dead.”

“How?” He blinked at her in surprise.

“I saw her when I woke up last time. Her eyes …” Her mew trailed away. She didn’t want to remember. Should she tell him that she’d been in StarClan with her sister just a moment ago?

Paw steps sounded outside, and Bramblestar crashed through the brambles at the entrance. “She’s awake?” Fear glittered in his gaze. “Is she okay?”

“She will be.” Alderheart moved aside and Squirrelflight met Bramblestar’s gaze. Her heart leaped as his face softened. He suddenly looked like the young warrior she’d fallen in love with. As he rushed toward her, she stretched out her muzzle, breathing in the warmth and the scent of him as he pressed his cheek against hers. He began to lick her head, as urgent and as gentle as a mother lapping her kit.

She purred. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Don’t be sorry for anything. I was so worried. I love you so much. We should never have let things get so bad. I’ll never let it happen again.”

Squirrelflight tried again to push herself up, finding enough strength this time to hoist herself into an awkward sitting position. She saw Lionblaze hesitating beside Jayfeather at the entrance.

“Hi, Lionblaze.”

He shifted his paws, as though he didn’t know what to say. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He looked relieved, and then his gaze flitted to Leafpool’s empty nest. It darkened.

“I know about Leafpool.” She pushed herself higher. “I know you’ll miss her as much as I will.”

Lionblaze met her gaze. She saw conflict there, as though he wasn’t sure what to feel. How hard it must be not to know which mother was his true mother. One had kitted him and one had raised him. Which one should he love? Surely there was a place in his heart for both of them.

He looked away. “It was a dumb accident,” he growled. “We should have let the Sisters move in their own time. That land wasn’t worth dying for.”

Bramblestar’s tail twitched. “What’s done is done,” he murmured.

Squirrelflight didn’t want to think about it. Of course it was dumb. That was what she’d been telling them all along. But what was the point in saying so now? She glanced past Lionblaze expectantly. “Did Sparkpelt come too?”

Jayfeather crossed the den briskly. “She’s feeding her kits.” He avoided her gaze.

Worry sparked in Squirrelflight’s pelt. “Is she okay?”

“She’s healthy.” Jayfeather leaned into the nest and sniffed her injured leg. “We can make you a splint,” he told her. “To help you get around.”

Squirrelflight didn’t care about splints. “Are the kits well?” she pressed.

Bramblestar purred. “They’re very well,” he told her. “They want to explore outside the nursery already. Poor Daisy is exhausted.”

“And Sparkpelt?” Was she playing with them yet?

“She’s had a hard moon,” Bramblestar mewed. “But she’ll come around, I’m sure. She just needs a little more time. Seeing you get well will cheer her up.”

“I’ll be better in no time.” Squirrelflight shifted until she sat up straight. She winced as pain shot through her hind leg.

“I’ll get you some poppy seeds.” Alderheart hurried to the herb store.

“Thanks.” Squirrelflight glanced around the den. Lionblaze had padded closer, and Bramblestar was smoothing the bracken inside her nest.

Jayfeather followed Alderheart to the store. “You might as well fetch her some comfrey while you’re there,” he mewed. “We can wrap her leg in it before we attach the splint.”

She purred. It was good to be back.

“I’m glad you woke up before her vigil.” Bramblestar helped Squirrelflight from the medicine den. Dusk was turning into night, and the camp was bathed in shadow. “We couldn’t have buried her without you.”

Leaning on him heavily, Squirrelflight tried not to betray the pain jabbing her wrenched leg. The splint helped, but she still couldn’t put weight on her hind paw, and the smell of the comfrey leaves bound around her leg was making her queasy.

She could see Leafpool now, lying in the middle of the clearing.

Millie looked up as Squirrelflight reached them. Their Clanmates were ringed around the body, murmuring softly to one another as they waited for the vigil to begin. “We will miss her,” Millie told Squirrelflight softly.

“Thank you.” Squirrelflight dipped her head. “She looks so peaceful.” She waved Bramblestar back with her tail and limped to Leafpool’s stiff, lifeless body, comforted by the thought that, in StarClan, Leafpool would be racing across meadows, warmed by endless sunshine.

She felt the gazes of her Clanmates flitting around her like moths, and wondered if they’d forgiven her for helping the Sisters. No one had called her a traitor, but that was what they must have thought when she’d emerged from Moonlight’s den. She looked at Bramblestar uncertainly, seeking reassurance. He gazed lovingly back, as though he could see only her. Graystripe caught her eye and nodded to her from the edge of the clearing. Thornclaw blinked at her fondly. They had forgiven her. Grateful, she sat down, carefully easing her wrenched leg to one side.

The moon shone in a soft blue evening sky as Bramblestar padded forward and silenced the murmuring of his Clanmates with a flick of his tail. “Leafpool was a loyal and dedicated medicine cat. She helped her Clanmates when they were sick and watched over them when they were well. She couldn’t mother her kits, and so she mothered all of you.” His gaze swept around the Clan, and Squirrelflight saw her Clanmates dipping their heads in agreement. “She wouldn’t sleep if she knew any cat was suffering, and would go without food or rest to care for her Clan. She fought for what she believed in and protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. ThunderClan will miss her. We were lucky to have her.”

Millie padded forward and touched her nose to Leafpool’s pelt. “Leafpool cared for Briarlight better than any cat. She made sure her life was long and comfortable despite her broken spine. She would sit up all night when Briarlight was in pain, talking to her and sharing stories to keep her spirits up. She thought up new exercises and games that would keep Briarlight healthy, and, at the end, Leafpool never left her side.” Emotion glistened in the old she-cat’s eyes. “I hope they will hunt together in StarClan.”

As she stepped back, Alderheart padded to Leafpool’s side. “I was lucky to have Leafpool as a mentor. She taught me so much about herbs and how to care for my Clanmates, not just their bodies but their spirits. I’ll miss her skill and wisdom, and I’ll miss her friendship more.” He looked expectantly at Jayfeather.

Jayfeather pricked his ears as the Clan fell silent.

“Jayfeather,” Alderheart prompted. “Do you want to speak?”

Jayfeather huffed. “Do you want me to say what a great medicine cat she was, or what a great mother she was?” There was bitterness in his mew.

It clawed at Squirrelflight’s heart, but she forced her pelt to stay smooth. “Say whatever you want, Jayfeather.”

Jayfeather flicked his tail. “She was a good medicine cat. She trained me well and I loved her for it.” He frowned. “Then I discovered she was my mother and that she’d lied to me since I was born. Hollyleaf died defending her lie even though Leafpool had abandoned us.”

On the other side of the clearing, Lionblaze bristled. He glared at Jayfeather. “What else could she do?”

“Tell the truth?”

“Then what?” The golden warrior’s eyes flashed. “Did you want her to give up being a medicine cat for you? Would you give up being a medicine cat for anyone?” He flattened his ears when Jayfeather didn’t answer. “No. I thought not.”

Jayfeather eyed him angrily. “You didn’t give me chance to finish. I was about to say that I forgave her eventually. Even though I could never love her as a mother after what she’d done, I respected her as a medicine cat and loved her as a Clanmate.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t pretend you loved her any more than I did.”

Lionblaze’s eyes glittered with grief. “I wish I’d loved her more.” His mew was husky. “She deserved to be loved. She was loyal and good and kind.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes pricked. “She was loved.” She got to her paws, wincing at the pain. “I loved her. Her final act was to save a litter of kits. They were the kits of an outsider—a stranger to our land, and to our code. But Leafpool saw every life as important, and she died saving something she cherished most of all—kits.” She glanced at Jayfeather and Lionblaze. “She told me to tell you that she always loved you as your mother and she always will. She only lied to protect you.” Lionblaze looked at his paws. Jayfeather gazed blindly into the gathering darkness as Squirrelflight went on. “She said that she’d never forgive herself for the pain she caused you, but I hope she finds peace in StarClan, because she deserves to be happy.” Night hid her Clanmates in shadow, but she could see their eyes glistening in the moonlight. “Leafpool was the best littermate I could have had. I will miss her so much, but I know that she will always be with me, watching from StarClan.”

As she finished, a breeze sent leaves showering into the clearing. They drifted down, as pale in the moonlight as Leafpool’s amber eyes. Is she sending me a message? Squirrelflight looked at the stars, her heart pricking with hope. Even though Leafpool was in StarClan, Squirrelflight knew she wasn’t very far away.