Tallstar’s Revenge

Chapter 18

Pain jolted Tallpaw awake. He was bumping over stones, being dragged from behind. Rocks jabbed his belly and scraped his legs and chin. Someone was hauling him out of the tunnel. He struggled, trying to find his paws, but claws clasped his flanks and heaved him harder. Suddenly fresh air rushed around him and he was on soft grass. He gulped in air, fresh and sweet.

“What happened?” Tallpaw coughed, spitting out mud. “Is this StarClan?” He tried to remember what he had been doing before the darkness came, but his thoughts were spinning too fast. It was like trying to catch butterflies in the wind.

A gentle paw touched his shoulder. “It’s all right; you’re safe now.” Dawnstripe was crouching beside him. “Woollytail pulled you out.”

“Out of where?” Tallpaw struggled to sit up.

Dawnstripe sniffed him anxiously. “Does anything feel broken?”

Tallpaw felt his pelt stinging where it had torn on stones, but he could move each of his legs. “I’m okay.”

Woollytail paced in front of him, his gray-and-white pelt turned completely brown with smeared mud. “We’ll see about that.” He glanced at Tallpaw. “You should get your cuts and scratches seen to. Underground mud can be bad for you. Wounds infect easily.”

“Hush.” Dawnstripe waved Woollytail away with her tail. “He’s already scared enough.”

Scared? Tallpaw’s legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto his belly. Why would I be scared? Hazily he saw Algernon sitting a little way off. Sparrow was lying on the grass beside him, his short fur spiked and filthy. Were we both underground? Tallpaw wondered.

Mistmouse squeezed out of a rabbit hole, her pelt slicked with mud. Algernon caught her eye. “Any luck?” Mistmouse shook her head.

Tallpaw’s thoughts cleared with a jolt. “Sandgorse!” That’s why he’d gone down the tunnel. “Where is he?”

Woollytail stopped pacing. His eyes were ominously dark. He turned as Plumclaw scrambled out of a second burrow. “Did you get through?” Woollytail asked.

Plumclaw shook her head. “We hit rock. Hickorynose is still trying but there’s no way to dig past it.”

Tallpaw’s heart began to pound. “If he’s still down there, you have to get him out.”

Plumclaw crossed the grass toward him. “We’ve tried, Tallpaw, but the whole tunnel network collapsed. Floodwater’s in every branch and the roofs are still caving in.” She thrust her nose close to him, blinking away wet soil. “Another mouse-length and you’d have drowned, too.”

Tallpaw stiffened. “Sandgorse drowned?”

Plumclaw leaned back. “We haven’t found his body, but there’s no way he could still be alive down there.”

“No!” Tallpaw tried to struggle to his paws, but he was shaking too much.

Woollytail glanced at Mistmouse. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

“We’ve tried everything to get to him,” she meowed, ears flat. “He’s down there for good.”

“Maybe Sparrow can help!” Tallpaw stared at the rogue. Sparrow lifted his mud-streaked head. “Where did you last see Sandgorse?” Tallpaw demanded. “Can you lead the tunnelers there?”

“The tunnels are blocked,” Woollytail reminded him.

“But if you know where to look, you might be able to dig through,” Tallpaw persisted. “I’ll dig through myself.”

Dawnstripe pressed him back with a paw. “Tallpaw,” she murmured softly. “If Woollytail can’t reach him, no one can. Sandgorse is with StarClan now.”

Tallpaw’s hackles rose and anger surged in his chest. He glared at Sparrow. “Why did you leave him? You should have stayed with him! Don’t you know that’s what you do underground? You stay with your tunnelmate.”

Sparrow pushed himself to his paws. “I’m no tunneler. I don’t have partners. Not aboveground. Not belowground.” His gaze hardened. “I was lucky I made it out. There was no way I could have helped Sandgorse. He’s the one with all the skills. He shouldn’t have taken me down there. He should have known it was too dangerous.”

Tallpaw stared, breath catching in his throat. Sparrow was blaming Sandgorse for what happened? He stared at the other tunnelers, willing one of them to come to Sandgorse’s defense. How dare this rogue blame his father for the accident?

“Woollytail?” Tallpaw croaked to the old tunneler.

Woollytail stared at his paws. “Sandgorse answered for his recklessness,” he muttered.

“Are you saying this was his fault?” Tallpaw gasped.

Woollytail avoided his eye. “Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s get you to Hawkheart. Those wounds’ll need seeing to.”

Dawnstripe shoved her nose under Tallpaw’s flank and heaved him to his paws. Algernon darted over and pressed against his shoulder. With Dawnstripe pushing on the other side, Tallpaw managed to stagger forward. As they climbed the slope, he felt strength beginning to seep back into his paws, though his breath was hard to catch. He stopped and coughed up more muddy water, then moved on, thankful for Algernon and Dawnstripe’s help. He could hear paw steps behind and looked back to see Woollytail helping Sparrow back to camp. Tallpaw growled under his breath. How could Woollytail help the cat that had killed his tunnelmate?

He staggered wearily through the entrance. Aspenfall paused on a tussock and stared at the mud-streaked cats. “Any news?”

Palebird hurried out of the nursery. “Did you find him?”

Tallpaw stared blankly at his mother.

“No,” Dawnstripe answered for him.

“Sandgorse!” As Palebird collapsed, Meadowslip hurried to her side.

Tallpaw closed his eyes. “He’s dead,” he whispered. His legs crumpled beneath him and choking mud seemed to swamp him once more. He could feel the suffocating weight of earth and water, and he imagined his father thrashing against the flood as it grew heavier and heavier until at last he was pinned without light or air, lungs screaming, heart bursting.

“Tallpaw?” Hawkheart leaned over him. “Swallow these leaves.”

A pungent scent wafted beneath his nose. Numbly he lapped up the green specks beside his mouth.

“Bring more thyme, Barkpaw,” Hawkheart called. “And some of the poultice we made for the wounded warriors.”

“Are you all right, Sparrow?” Bess’s anxious mew sounded nearby. Tallpaw opened his eyes and saw the black-and-white cat pacing around the brown warrior. Reena was sniffing at his filthy pelt.

“I’ll live.” Sparrow shook out his fur, showering his companions with muddy water.

Hawkheart turned his head. “All Sparrow needs is a good wash,” he growled. “Help him get cleaned up.” He nosed Tallpaw onto his side and began sniffing his scratches. “Great StarClan, what a mess.”

“I had to drag him out,” Woollytail meowed.

“He’s pretty shredded,” Hawkheart muttered. “But no deep wounds.”

Paw steps pattered closer and a wad of herbs landed beside Hawkheart. “Is he okay?” Tallpaw recognized Barkpaw’s mew.

“He’ll be fine.” Hawkheart began to lap herbs into a wound on Tallpaw’s pad. Tallpaw winced at the pain but held still. “Go and soak moss in the spring,” Hawkheart told Barkpaw. “Plenty of it. I want you to wash as much of this mud out of Tallpaw’s fur as you can.”

The medicine cat’s mew faded into buzzing, and darkness swallowed Tallpaw. Hawkheart poked him sharply. “Stay awake. You’ve had a shock. You can sleep later.” He began pressing the herbs more firmly into Tallpaw’s wounds. The pain jerked Tallpaw into wakefulness.

“These will heal in no time,” Hawkheart promised. “We just have to get you clean.” He nosed some more pungent thyme toward Tallpaw. “Keep chewing this. It’ll help.”

Tallpaw lapped up another tongueful of shredded leaves and began chewing. His thoughts started to clear. By the time Barkpaw returned and began sluicing his pelt with soaked moss, he was able to turn and watch.

“I’m sorry about Sandgorse.” Barkpaw didn’t lift his eyes from what he was doing.

“I’m sorry about Brackenwing,” Tallpaw meowed.

Barkpaw didn’t reply, just kept washing Tallpaw’s pelt. The long, cool strokes lulled Tallpaw and eased his pain.

“Do you want some food?” When Barkpaw had gone to rinse out the mud-filled moss, Reena clambered over a tussock and sat down beside Tallpaw. “You haven’t eaten all day.” She twitched her tail toward the prey heap, stacked high with fresh-kill.

Tallpaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”

“Then I could just sit with you,” Reena offered.

Tallpaw shook his head. He didn’t want company. His pain was all on the inside now, too deep for anyone to touch. He could see Palebird outside the nursery staring into space, her eyes glazed. For a moment Tallpaw understood why she always seemed so distant. If she didn’t let herself feel anything, she might protect herself from her grief for Finchkit. Now he wanted to do the same. “I’d rather be alone,” he mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Reena leaned close, the scent of rabbit on her breath.

“I’m sure.” Tallpaw watched her pad away to the Hunting Stones, where Bess, Algernon, and Mole were tucking grass around Sparrow.

Bess pulled up a pawful of moss from beneath one of the rocks and packed it beneath Sparrow’s shoulder. “Is that more comfortable?”

Sparrow wriggled. “Much better,” he purred.

Tallpaw growled under his breath. Anger felt better than grief. He watched the sun sink below the heather. It glowed on Dawnstripe’s pelt as she padded toward him. A mouse dangled from her jaws. She stopped beside him and dropped it at his paws. “You should eat something,” she meowed.

How did Dawnstripe think he could eat? Didn’t she know he’d just lost his father? “I told Reena: I’m not hungry,” Tallpaw muttered.

“It won’t always feel this bad,” Dawnstripe promised.

He glared at her. “Yes, it will!” he snapped. “I’ll never feel happy again. StarClan doesn’t want me to be happy. They should have taken me, not Finchkit.” He glared across the camp at Palebird. “Maybe Sandgorse wouldn’t be dead if my sister were alive.”

Dawnstripe stiffened. “Don’t say things like that!”

“I’ve done everything wrong,” Tallpaw snarled. “If I’d insisted on being a tunneling apprentice, Sandgorse would have been exploring the gorge tunnel with me, not Sparrow. I wouldn’t have left him behind.”

“You’re upset.” Dawnstripe got to her paws. “You’re not thinking straight. I’ll come and check on you later, when you’ve had some rest.” She padded away and settled down beside Redclaw and Appledawn, but her gaze flashed anxiously toward Tallpaw as she shared tongues with her Clanmates.

Appledawn’s voice carried on the breeze. “Sandgorse should never have taken Sparrow down those tunnels.”

Tallpaw sat up.

“Heatherstar said they were dangerous,” Redclaw agreed.

Tallpaw bared his teeth at the tawny warrior. “Sparrow made him go down there!” he hissed across the clearing. “The nosy rogue wouldn’t stop pestering Sandgorse until he showed him the tunnels! And then he left Sandgorse down there to die!” Rage pulsed like lightning in his paws.

On the other side of the clearing, Sparrow stood up. “I’m sorry your father is dead, Tallpaw. But he told me it was safe when it wasn’t. How was I supposed to know what would happen? I’m no tunneler. I believed him. When the river burst through, I didn’t have time to save him. I barely saved myself.”

“If there was time to save yourself, there was time to save Sandgorse,” Tallpaw snapped. “You left him to die.”

“Enough!” Heatherstar leaped to her paws and marched across the clearing. “The Clan has seen too much grief this moon. Go to your nest, Tallpaw. Words won’t change anything now.”

Tallpaw met her gaze. He was trembling with fury.

“Go,” Heatherstar repeated.

Tallpaw glanced around at his Clanmates. They stared at him, frozen in shock. Prey hung from Cloudrunner’s mouth. Lilywhisker’s eyes were round. Flamepelt sat stiffly beside her. Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Doespring blinked at him like birds lined along a branch. Shrewpaw narrowed his eyes while Barkpaw sat like stone at the entrance to the medicine den.

Whipping his tail, Tallpaw turned and stalked to his nest. He climbed in and thrust his nose under his paw. When sleep came, it was filled with dreams. Mud pressed around him, sucking at his fur; water dragged him through endless tunnels, and in brief flashes of light from somewhere above his head, Tallpaw saw Sandgorse, mouth open, shrieking for help, only to be hauled away by another surge of mud.

“Tallpaw.” Breath touched his ear. Tallpaw jerked up his head. Barkpaw ducked away. “How are you?”

Beyond him, Tallpaw could see the camp through the gorse opening of his den. A bright moon lit the tussocks. “Is it nearly dawn?”

“Not yet.” Barkpaw reached into Tallpaw’s nest. Tallpaw smelled the tang of ointment. “I just want to put some herbs on your wounds,” Barkpaw told him. “Hawkheart’s worried about infection.”

Tallpaw leaned back and let Barkpaw spread the thick paste of herbs onto his grazes. “I had nightmares,” he meowed.

“They’ll pass.” Barkpaw avoided Tallpaw’s gaze.

“I don’t want to sleep again.” The thought of returning to his dreams made Tallpaw’s belly harden.

“You need to rest.” Barkpaw sounded very far away. Even in this half light, Tallpaw could see tiredness shadowing his friend’s eyes. Barkpaw was still wrapped in grief for Brackenwing.

Tallpaw understood. Loneliness jabbed his belly. If only they could share their grief. But Barkpaw seemed too far away. Did he still blame Tallpaw for Brackenwing’s death?

Tallpaw blinked open his eyes in the pale light of dawn, surprised to find that he’d slept again after Barkpaw had left. He peered out from the gorse bush and saw Reedfeather calling patrols for the day.

“Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Doespring,” the deputy ordered, “take Mole hunting with you. Hareflight, Stagleap, and Shrewpaw, check the ShadowClan and Fourtrees border. Dawnstripe and Redclaw, patrol the rest.”

Tallpaw watched his Clanmates charge out of camp while Reena and Bess headed for the elders’ den. “We’ve come to clean out your bedding,” Bess called through the entrance.

Lilywhisker padded out, yawning. “You’ll have to wake the others. Flamepelt’s snoring like a badger.”

Tallpaw hauled himself to his paws, wincing as his scratches stung.

“Stay in your nest.” Hawkheart’s stern growl surprised him. The medicine cat slid into the den. Tallpaw sat down as Hawkheart sniffed his wounds. “There’s infection in your forepaw. I can smell it,” he told Tallpaw. “I’ll dress the wound again. Then stay off it. You’re confined to your nest until it’s healed.”

“I can’t stay here,” Tallpaw argued. “I hate it. I just sleep and have nightmares.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Hawkheart dabbed fresh herbs onto Tallpaw’s wounds. “You have to get well. There’s been too much loss. First Brackenwing, then your father.”

“But—” Tallpaw began to argue but Hawkheart silenced him with a look.

Tallpaw lay back in his nest as the medicine cat left. The low gorse roof seemed to press down on him. His breath quickened in the stale air. Tallpaw longed to be on the moor. He needed to feel the wind lifting his fur, filling his chest. Fear churned in his belly. He couldn’t stay here for days. As his mind spiraled into panic, Sparrow bounded past the den, crossing the tussocks with ease.

Tallpaw sat up. He hardly has a scratch on him. He must have fled the cave-in at the first drop of soil! Weasel-hearted coward!

“Sparrow!” Hickorynose called to the rogue from the prey heap. “Do you want some fresh-kill?”

“Yes,” Sparrow called. “I’m starving.”

Hickorynose tossed a mouse to the rogue’s paws and Sparrow crouched to eat it.

Tallpaw’s belly rumbled. Isn’t anyone going to offer me any prey? I’m still their Clanmate, after all. He sank his claws into his bedding. They don’t care if I eat. As far as they’re concerned, I killed Brackenwing. Poor Sparrow’s only crime was to follow a foolish warrior down an unsafe tunnel. He hissed, curling his lip as he watched Sparrow lick his lips.No one blames him. They’re too dumb to see what’s under their whiskers.

“But I blame you,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You killed my father!”