Squirrelflight's Hope

CHAPTER 2

“It’s going to need repairing before leaf-bare.” Brackenfur looked up.

Squirrelflight followed the old warrior’s gaze and saw holes in the roof of the elders’ den. Sunshine streamed through them, dazzling her. She looked away. “I’ll organize a patrol to fix it,” she promised.

Graystripe stuck his head through the entrance. “Are you going to patch up that roof?”

“Of course,” Squirrelflight told him.

“She’s going to patch it up!” Graystripe called over his shoulder to Millie, who was lying outside in the sunshine.

“She’s going to what?” croaked Millie. The old she-cat was growing increasingly deaf.

“Patch it up!” Graystripe yowled.

“Who with?” Millie sounded confused. “Has she been quarreling again?”

Alarm flashed in Squirrelflight’s chest. Did the Clan know about her spat with Bramblestar? They must have noticed she hadn’t slept in his den last night.

“The roof!” Rolling his eyes, Graystripe headed outside.

Squirrelflight shifted her paws self-consciously. She was deputy as well as Bramblestar’s mate. She couldn’t appear at odds with the leader. Bramblestar had been right when he’d said that they must show a united front, and not just to the other Clans. Their own Clan should feel their relationship was strong. A quarrel between a leader and deputy could send ripples through the whole Clan.

Brackenfur twitched his tail. It jerked her from her thoughts. “When will the work start?” He was still staring at the roof.

“I’ll ask Dewnose and Thriftpaw to start work on it as soon as they get back from training.”

“Thanks.” Brackenfur padded to his nest and settled into it. “It’s been good to let sunshine into the den, but we can smell leaf-fall coming, and Cloudtail worries about Brightheart getting cold.”

“We’ll pad all the walls,” Squirrelflight promised. “It’ll be as warm as a mouse nest in here.”

She ducked outside, nodding to Millie and Graystripe as she passed them, and glanced around the camp. Bramblestar was sunning himself on the Highledge with Thornclaw. She didn’t look at him, afraid to catch his eye. She’d avoided him since she’d woken at dawn. Her grief had eased with sleep, and common sense had returned on waking. Of course Bramblestar loved her, and if he wanted kits less than she did, at least he’d been honest with her. She knew she’d overreacted. Why should he want exactly the same things that she did? And yet she still wasn’t ready to speak to him. She’d assigned herself to the dawn patrol and then gone hunting.

But she couldn’t stay out of camp all day, and it was sunhigh now. There were no more chores until dusk patrol. Hesitating at the edge of the clearing, she looked for something to keep her busy. Hollytuft and Flippaw were back from training, nosing eagerly through the fresh-kill pile. Jayfeather and Alderheart were heading out of camp, Jayfeather leading the way as usual despite his blindness. Outside the nursery, Daisy was chatting to Lilyheart and Rosepetal, while Rosepetal’s apprentice, Bristlepaw, nosed about in the ferns at the edge of the camp, clearly looking for mice. Squirrelflight wondered if it was time Daisy moved to the elders’ den. It must be lonely in the nursery. But she was such a help to expectant queens. What if a warrior announced she was having kits? No one should have to sleep in the nursery alone. A pang of grief jabbed Squirrelflight’s heart. I should be there by now. Her thoughts quickened. How could she have kits now that she knew that Bramblestar didn’t want them? He does want kits! she corrected herself. Just not as much as I do.

But it hadn’t been just the kits he’d been upset about. She’d contradicted him in front of the others. But they were close to fighting! Squirrelflight flicked her tail indignantly. And I have a right to my own opinion. Her plan for SkyClan could be the perfect solution. She couldn’t have held her tongue even if she’d wanted to. Bramblestar had implied that a good deputy would have kept quiet. She shook out her pelt. Was that what Bramblestar thought—that she wasn’t a good deputy? Hurt sharpened its claws on her heart once again. She closed her eyes. Chasing thoughts like this wasn’t going to help her feel better.

“Bristlepaw! Flippaw! Look what I caught!” Thriftpaw’s mew surprised Squirrelflight, and at his littermate’s call, Flippaw looked up from the mouse he was eating. Bristlepaw stuck her head out of the ferns, her eyes wide.

The dark gray she-cat was standing at the camp entrance, Dewnose beside her and a small rabbit at her paws.

Bristlepaw dashed from the ferns and skidded to a halt beside her sister. “It’s almost as big as you!” She sniffed excitedly at the rabbit as Flippaw hurried over.

“Did you catch it by yourself?” Flippaw looked impressed.

Thriftpaw glanced at her paws. “Not exactly by myself.”

Dewnose purred beside her. “Thriftpaw tracked it and caught it. I just helped with the killing bite.”

“Can we eat it now?” Thriftpaw asked.

“Put it on the fresh-kill pile and take something smaller,” Dewnose told her. “We can share the rabbit later with the elders.”

Thriftpaw glanced toward the heap of prey at the edge of the clearing. The long body of a weasel lay on top. Her eyes widened. “Is that a weasel?”

Flippaw nodded. “Mousewhisker caught it this morning.”

“But weasels are vicious,” Thriftpaw mewed, her eyes widening.

“That one was,” Flippaw told her. “Mousewhisker’s in the medicine-cat den right now covered in bites.”

Squirrelflight pricked her ears. Mousewhisker must have returned while she was in the elders’ den. “Is he badly hurt?”

“I don’t know,” Flippaw told her.

Squirrelflight headed toward the medicine-cat den.

“Imagine being wounded by prey,” Bristlepaw murmured.

“Imagine being killed by prey!” Thriftpaw mewed.

“Put your rabbit on the fresh-kill pile,” Dewnose told her again. “When you’ve had something to eat, we’re going to practice battle moves.”

Squirrelflight glanced back at the gray-and-white tom. “Can you take a look at the elders’ den when you’re finished? The roof needs mending.”

“Sure.” Dewnose swished his tail as Squirrelflight ducked through the brambles that trailed over the entrance to the medicine-cat den. Inside, cool shadows swathed the wide stretch of earth. Herb scents filled the air. Her littermate, Leafpool, glanced up warmly as Squirrelflight entered. “Well, hello.”

Mousewhisker sat stiffly in the middle of the den. Leafpool returned to lapping ointment into his wounds.

“Are you badly hurt?” Squirrelflight crossed the den and stopped beside them. “I see Leafpool is taking good care of you.”

“She is. And it’s just a few bites,” Mousewhisker told her.

“There are a couple of deep ones,” Leafpool reported. “But I’ve cleaned them and put plenty of herbs on them. They should heal quickly.” She looked earnestly at the gray-and-white tom. “But if you get any fever or the pain keeps you awake tonight, come straight to me.”

Mousewhisker nodded.

“Where did you catch the weasel?” Squirrelflight was curious. Weasels were rare in this part of the forest.

“Near the beeches,” Mousewhisker told her.

Squirrelflight realized she’d been wondering if he’d caught it on ThunderClan’s strip of moorland. “Not the moor?”

Mousewhisker looked at her, puzzled. “Why would I be hunting on the moor? That’s WindClan territory.”

“The stretch beyond the stream is ThunderClan territory now,” she reminded him, twitching her tail in irritation.

“Oh, yes.” He sounded surprised. “I keep forgetting. It feels so unnatural to hunt in the open.”

Squirrelflight stifled a sigh. Harestar had been right about the wasted land. “We all need to learn,” Squirrelflight prompted.

“Of course.” Mousewhisker peered distractedly at a bite mark on his shoulder. “I just hope hunting in the wind doesn’t make us as stunted as WindClan warriors.”

Leafpool used her paw to fold the leaf she’d mixed the ointment on. “WindClan warriors are only smaller than us because their ancestors were smaller, not because of the wind.”

Mousewhisker sniffed. “So what made their ancestors small?”

Leafpool shrugged. “Only StarClan knows.”

“It was probably the wind.”

Squirrelflight caught her sister’s eye and swallowed back a purr. Was Leafpool going to argue with that kind of logic?

“Go and rest in the sunshine,” Leafpool told Mousewhisker, changing the subject. “It’ll dry out your wounds.”

“Thanks, Leafpool.” Mousewhisker dipped his head and headed for the entrance.

“Wait,” Squirrelflight called after him. Mousewhisker turned to her questioningly. “Have you patrolled the edge of ThunderClan territory lately, beyond the abandoned Twolegplace?”

Mousewhisker frowned. “I was up that way a quarter moon ago with Larksong and Cherryfall.”

“Do you know what the land’s like beyond the border?” Her fur pricked along her spine. Bramblestar wouldn’t be happy if he knew she was asking these questions. “Are there any strays living there, or foxes?”

“Occasionally there are unfamiliar scents on the border. But if there are strays or foxes up there, they’re smart enough to know not to cross into our territory.”

“Thanks, Mousewhisker.” Squirrelflight nodded at him, and the gray-and-white tom pushed his way out of the den.

“What was that about?” Leafpool was staring at her.

Squirrelflight sat down and curled her tail over her paws, relieved to have a moment alone with her sister. “Last night’s meeting with Harestar was tense.”

“I heard that they want the borders to go back to the way they were before SkyClan.” Leafpool’s gaze was dark with worry.

“Not exactly,” Squirrelflight explained. “No cat wants to deprive SkyClan of a home. But the new borders have left ShadowClan with land they can’t hunt. And we have a strip of moorland that, clearly, we hardly use.”

Leafstar’s pelt ruffled. “But we can’t go back to our old borders. What would happen to SkyClan?”

“That’s why I was asking Mousewhisker about the area beyond the abandoned Twolegplace. It might make great territory for SkyClan.”

Leafpool looked curious. “Would they move there?”

“They might if they knew it was good land.” Squirrelflight looked at her sister hopefully.

Leafpool didn’t look convinced. “It could work, but does Bramblestar know about this idea?”

Squirrelflight puffed out her chest. “I suggested it at the meeting last night.”

“You did?” Leafpool’s ears twitched nervously.

“I had to. It would solve all our problems,” Squirrelflight insisted.

Leafpool frowned. “I really don’t think SkyClan should have to move. They’ve been through enough. Can’t the Clans get used to their new borders?”

“We all need more land,” Squirrelflight pointed out, swallowing back frustration. She’d been hoping Leafpool would agree with her.

“What does Bramblestar think?”

“He thinks SkyClan should stay where they are.”

“I’m glad someone’s on their side.” Leafpool picked up the folded leaf between her teeth and carried it to the back of the den. She dropped it beside the pool. “ShadowClan has been trying to push out SkyClan since they got here. Now RiverClan and WindClan are joining in. I know change is difficult, but the Clans aren’t even trying to change. They seem to want everything the same as it used to be. I’m surprised StarClan hasn’t said something.”

Squirrelflight pricked her ears. “Will you ask them next time you’re at the Moonpool?”

Leafpool shrugged. “I can, but I don’t know if they’ll answer. They’ve been silent since the storm. We figured it was because they had nothing to tell us.” She glanced away, frowning. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Squirrelflight tensed. “Do you think their silence means something?”

“I only know that it’s unnerving touching my nose to the Moonpool and seeing nothing but the moon’s reflection.” She padded back to Squirrelflight. “You said Bramblestar thinks SkyClan shouldn’t move.” She tipped her head enquiringly. “Did you argue about it?”

Squirrelflight looked away. “What makes you think we argued?”

“I saw you come out of the warriors’ den this morning.” Leafpool gazed sympathetically at her sister.

“He says I should have backed him up.”

“It might have been best to discuss it with him first. SkyClan needs time to find their paws and establish themselves beside the lake. I’m not sure moving them now would be a good idea.”

“But if they stay where they are, these tensions over the borders will only grow.” Why couldn’t Leafpool and Bramblestar see what would happen if they didn’t solve the land dispute quickly? “Tigerstar’s like a fox with a bone once he’s got an idea in his head.”

“True,” Leafpool conceded. “But do you think Tigerstar—or any of them—will let go of this idea now? What if SkyClan decides it doesn’t want to move?” She frowned. “No wonder Bramblestar’s upset. You’ve stirred up quite a bee’s nest.”

Squirrelflight swished her tail irritably. “We didn’t just argue over moving SkyClan.” She wanted to tell Leafpool the whole story, but she hesitated. The subject of kits was a tricky one with Leafpool. Many moons before, she’d had a litter of kits with Crowfeather, a WindClan warrior. Because Leafpool was a medicine cat, forbidden from taking a mate, and because the kit’s father was in another Clan, Squirrelflight had agreed to raise the kits with Bramblestar as though they were her own. Those kits were Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf, and Squirrelflight had loved them as much as any mother could. But she knew it must be hard for Leafpool to understand her desire for another litter. She had already had the chance to be a mother twice, something Leafpool could never experience.

Her littermate stared at her, her eyes glittering with curiosity. “What is it, then?”

Squirrelflight let out her breath. Never mind the awkwardness—Leafpool will understand. And she needed reassurance. “He said he doesn’t want more kits as much as I do.”

Leafpool’s eyes rounded with sympathy. “Oh, Squirrelflight.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “I know. It’s—” Selfish of me, she was about to say. Because I’ve already mothered two litters. But Leafpool didn’t let her finish.

“That must have hurt,” Leafpool said softly, dipping her head. “I know how much you want another litter.”

“Bramblestar says he’s getting old and that the Clan is enough responsibility.” She trailed into silence, the memory of the argument stinging her afresh.

“I’m sure he’d love kits if you had them,” Leafpool mewed. “But I can see how he finds the thought overwhelming.”

Squirrelflight blinked at her. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable, wanting more kits? I know I …”

“No, of course not. But you already have Alderheart and Sparkpelt. And, in a way, Jayfeather and Lionblaze.”

Squirrelflight nodded, but her heart ached. “They don’t need me anymore.”

“They’ll always need you,” Leafpool mewed. “Just not in the same way as when they were kits. And the Clan needs you, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not the same.”

Leafpool stretched her muzzle forward and touched her nose to Squirrelflight’s cheek. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m sure Bramblestar wants kits. Just give him time.”

“What if there isn’t time?” Squirrelflight felt suddenly weary. “What if I’m too old?”

“You’re not too old.” Leafpool pulled away. “Don’t rush so much, Squirrelflight.” She gazed fondly at her sister. “Stop trying to sort out every problem at once. One day you’ll have more kits, and Bramblestar will forget he ever had doubts. And the Clans will sort out their borders. Slow down and let things happen naturally.”

Squirrelflight dipped her head, grateful that Leafpool was her sister. She was gentle and wise, and she always tried to understand. But Squirrelflight knew they were looking at the border dispute from different angles. Leafpool was a medicine cat—of course she thought the new borders should remain. She didn’t understand that warriors valued hunting land too much to let it go to waste without a fight.

And as far as kits went … Leafpool didn’t understand what it felt like not to be needed. Leafpool was needed every day. The Clan depended on her, sometimes for their lives. It was different for Squirrelflight. Even as deputy, she was just one warrior among many.

She got to her paws. “Thanks for listening, Leafpool.” She felt her sister’s gaze follow her as she padded out of the den. Hunger tugged in her belly, not for food but for something she couldn’t quite put her paw on. She needed to do something. She couldn’t just accept the way things were. She headed for the camp entrance. Last night’s meeting still nagged at her. There must be some way to convince Bramblestar that her idea was the perfect solution to this new disagreement among the Clans. She remembered Leafstar’s hesitation; the SkyClan leader had looked thoughtful for a moment before she’d squared her shoulders, as though she was weighing the possibility of moving. Perhaps there was a way to persuade her. If Squirrelflight could approach her quietly, without the eyes of the other Clans, she might be able to make her consider the idea seriously. Mousewhisker had said that there were few signs of danger beyond the border. If she took this information to Leafstar, it might be enough to change the SkyClan leader’s mind.

Lifting her tail, Squirrelflight marched out of the ThunderClan camp and headed toward the SkyClan border. She knew what she must do. She had to speak to Leafstar.