Twilight

Chapter 16

“Daisy! Daisy, where are you?”

Squirrelflight stopped and looked around when she heard the furious yowl that came from the medicine cats’ den. A moment later Brightheart appeared, carrying one of Daisy’s kits by the scruff. The tiny creature was wailing miserably, his paws thrashing the air. His littermates crept out after them, heads down and tails drooping, and huddled together beside the brambles that shielded the den.

The horse place cat had been in camp long enough for her kits to grow stronger and more confident, and to begin exploring the camp. And that was likely to mean trouble; Squirrelflight’s whiskers twitched as she remembered some of the things she and Leafpool had got up to before they were apprenticed.

Brightheart dropped the kit she was carrying—it was Mousekit, Squirrelflight realized, taking a closer look. The ginger and white she-cat’s good eye was blazing with anger.

“Daisy! Come here!”

There was no response from the nursery, but a heartbeat later Daisy appeared from the thorn tunnel and raced across the camp to confront Brightheart. Cloudtail followed her more slowly.

“What’s the matter? What are you doing to my kits?”

Daisy demanded.

“Ask your kits what they’ve been doing in Cinderpelt’s den,” Brightheart retorted. “And stop making that noise,” she added to the kit she had dropped, who was still wailing, his tiny pink jaws gaping wide. “I haven’t hurt you.”

“What happened?” Daisy’s blue eyes were just as furious, and her long, creamy fur couldn’t hide the tension in her muscles. For a moment Squirrelflight thought she might fly at Brightheart with one of the fighting moves Cloudtail had been teaching her. Squirrelflight knew Brightheart could look after herself, but Daisy might not get away unscratched.

She padded over in case some cat was needed to stop the fur flying.

“Your kits came into Cinderpelt’s den and started messing with the herbs,” Brightheart explained. “Did you eat anything?” she hissed, rounding on Berrykit and Hazelkit. “Any of you?”

Mute with terror, the kits shook their heads. Squirrelflight knew that part of Brightheart’s anger was fueled by fear that the kits might have eaten something dangerous. Cinderpelt wouldn’t keep anything like deathberries among her supplies, but there were plenty of remedies that could give a cat a nasty bellyache if they ate too much.

Brightheart’s fur began to lie flat again, but annoyance still crackled off her like lightning in greenleaf. “Just go and look at the mess they’ve made,” she meowed to Daisy. “Why weren’t you keeping an eye on them?”

“She was with me,” Cloudtail meowed.

“And that makes it okay for her kits to spoil Cinderpelt’s supplies?” Brightheart challenged him.

“They didn’t know any better.”

“Then they should!” Brightheart snarled back at her mate.

“Do you think we have nothing better to do than clean up after them? I spent all day yesterday collecting berries.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Daisy mewed, glancing uneasily from Cloudtail to Brightheart and back again. She nudged Mousekit to his paws and collected the others with a sweep of her tail. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You do that,” Brightheart snapped.

The horse place cat headed back to the nursery, herding her kits in front of her. Squirrelflight heard Mousekit complain, “That ugly cat frightened me!”

“Then you shouldn’t get into trouble,” Daisy replied.

Squirrelflight saw Brightheart flinch at what Mousekit said. She and Cloudtail were nose to nose, their tail-tips twitching back and forth.

“I’ll help clean up,” Squirrelflight offered, backing around the brambles. She didn’t want to get involved in a quarrel between Brightheart and her mate.

When she turned around she saw why Brightheart had been so angry. Berries were scattered all over the ground at the mouth of the den, and herbs lay in untidy clumps. Some of the leaves had been torn off their stems and were covered in dirt; they would probably have to be thrown out.

Squirrelflight began to roll the berries that could be salvaged into a pile. She wondered where Leafpool and Cinderpelt had gone. After a few moments she heard another cat padding up behind her.

“There you are!” meowed Ashfur, touching his nose to her shoulder. “I thought we were going hunting. Why are Cloudtail and Brightheart glaring at each other like a couple of badgers?”

Squirrelflight went on sorting berries as she explained.

“Clanborn kits would know not to do this sort of thing,” Ashfur commented. “Maybe these kittypets will never settle here properly.”

“What did you say?” Squirrelflight spun around to face him.

“Have you forgotten that my father was a kittypet?”

Ashfur blinked. “I’m sorry. But Firestar’s pretty special.

Most kittypets couldn’t live our sort of life. They need their Twolegs to look after them.”

Squirrelflight let out a furious hiss, and her claws slid out; it took a massive effort to shield them again and go on sorting berries. How dare Ashfur make judgments based on a cat’s birth? she fumed. Did that mean he thought less of her because she was half kittypet? Couldn’t he see that she and Leafpool, Cloudtail, and his kit Whitepaw were as important to the Clan as any warrior who was forestborn through and through?

Before Ashfur could say anything else, the bramble screen shook as Leafpool and Cinderpelt brushed past. Both medicine cats carried large bunches of chickweed.

“What’s going on here?” Cinderpelt asked, dropping her mouthful.

Squirrelflight explained what had happened for the second time, while Leafpool began examining the scattered leaves and piling up the ones that would have to be thrown out.

“Kits!” Cinderpelt grunted, nosing a muddy and crumpled stack of yarrow leaves. “Still, if they didn’t eat anything there’s no real harm done.”

“A lot of extra work, though,” Ashfur pointed out.

“We can manage,” Leafpool meowed sharply, and Squirrelflight glanced at her in surprise. “I’ll throw out these damaged herbs and go collect some more.”

A bolt of strong emotion made Squirrelflight’s fur stand on end. She stared at her sister. Was that guilt Leafpool was feeling? Why should she feel guilty about collecting herbs?

Even more mysteriously, mixed with the guilt there seemed to be a thrill of anticipation, and beneath it all a layer of piercing unhappiness.

Squirrelflight told herself her sister was just tired; the night before had been the half moon, when Leafpool and the other medicine cats paid their regular visit to the Moonpool.

But deep down she knew Leafpool was suffering from more than the long journey and lack of sleep. Perhaps the medicine cats had received a sign from StarClan of trouble ahead. Yet Leafpool hadn’t been her normal self for some time. In fact, she’d been as jumpy as a grasshopper since the Gathering.

“I’ll help you,” Squirrelflight offered. “Ashfur, you’d better hunt without me. I’ll join you later if I can.”

Ashfur gave her a long look. “Okay.” With a nod to Cinderpelt he left.

Squirrelflight opened her mouth to call him back, wishing she hadn’t spoken so sharply to him, but her need to talk to Leafpool was greater. Besides, perhaps it was best for them both to have some space after their quarrel.

“Which herbs do we need to throw out?” she asked her sister.

“These.” Leafpool pointed with her tail. “The rest are okay, I think.”

Squirrelflight divided the heap of bruised and dirty leaves into two bunches and picked up one of them. Cinderpelt had begun to carry the herbs and berries worth keeping back into her den. Leafpool picked up the remaining herbs and followed Squirrelflight out of the camp. They carried the leaves to the rough ground a few fox-lengths from the entrance where the cats went to make their dirt.

“It’s good to get out of there,” Squirrelflight remarked when she had finished spitting out scraps of sharp-tasting leaf. She wanted to tell Leafpool about Ashfur’s hurtful comments, but now she could see how tense and miserable Leafpool was, her quarrel didn’t seem important. “Is everything okay with you?” she asked.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Leafpool scraped the ground in front of her and sniffed at an unfurling frond of bracken.

“When Cinderpelt suggested collecting more herbs, I just thought you seemed… well, weird, sort of.” A thought struck her and she added, “You’re not worried about Brightheart, are you? I mean, you’re Cinderpelt’s real apprentice.

Brightheart is just helping out.”

Leafpool blinked. “No, of course I’m not worried about Brightheart. Look, Squirrelflight,” she went on, “we’d better split up if we’re going to collect herbs, otherwise it will take all day. I know Cinderpelt wants more catmint. Do you think you could fetch some from the abandoned Twoleg nest?”

Squirrelflight stared at her. It couldn’t be more obvious that Leafpool was trying to get rid of her. “Where are you going to go?”

“Oh… near the ShadowClan border, maybe.”

Another bolt of guilt and impatience flashed from her, making every hair on Squirrelflight’s pelt tingle. She was sure Leafpool was lying, and she clamped her teeth shut on a yowl of outrage. We never lie to each other!

“You know,” she mewed, trying to sound calm, “you are weird these days. It feels like something’s changed.”

She had meant the words as a joke, an attempt to recover the closeness to her sister that somehow seemed to have vanished. But instead of being amused, Leafpool flinched as if a bee had stung her. Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m going to collect herbs,” she meowed coldly. “I’m a medicine cat. You can’t expect to share every part of my life.”

Turning her back on her sister, she stalked off into the undergrowth.

For a few heartbeats Squirrelflight was tempted to follow her, but if Leafpool found out she would be even more furious. But Squirrelflight couldn’t just ignore her sister’s unhappiness, not when they had always meant so much to each other. She would just have to keep her eyes open and wait for the chance to discover what was wrong.

The hooting of an owl woke Squirrelflight. Faint moonlight filtered through the branches of the warriors’ den, outlining the curled-up bodies of her Clanmates. The den was filled with the warmth of their breath.

Squirrelflight’s jaws gaped in a yawn, but she didn’t feel like going back to sleep. She was wide awake now and restless.

Sliding out of her nest, being careful not to wake Ashfur, who was sleeping a tail-length away, she crept between the overhanging branches and into the clearing.

The moon, waning now to the thinnest crescent like a claw scratch in the indigo sky, shed just enough light to see the boundaries of the hollow. Clumps of bramble and fern cast dark shadows around the edges. Opposite her, beside the entrance to the thorn tunnel, Squirrelflight could just make out the pale pelt of Cloudtail, sitting on guard.

She flexed her claws, wondering whether to tell the white warrior that she felt like some night hunting. Suddenly a movement flickered in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Leafpool emerging from the medicine cats’ den.

Squirrelflight almost called out to her. Then she realized how strangely her sister was behaving. Leafpool glanced around carefully before she crept out of the shelter of the brambles, although she clearly failed to spot her sister’s dark ginger pelt in the shadows by the warriors’ den. Then she headed around the edge of the clearing, hugging the darkness as if she were being hunted like a mouse. Her tension shivered through Squirrelflight from ears to tail-tip.

All Squirrelflight’s earlier uneasiness returned as she padded into the shadows after her sister, placing each paw silently onto the ground. She didn’t want to disturb Cloudtail or any of the other warriors until she knew what Leafpool was trying to do. Leafpool was in some kind of trouble, and this could be the chance Squirrelflight needed to find out more.

Before she reached the thorn barrier across the entrance to the hollow, and risked being seen by Cloudtail, the young medicine cat veered sharply into a clump of brambles.

Squirrelflight heard a brief thrashing and froze as Cloudtail’s head swung around, but after listening for a few moments the white warrior twitched the tip of his tail and turned back to watch the tunnel again.

Her heart pounding, Squirrelflight slipped into the brambles behind Leafpool. This was a corner of the hollow that was still too overgrown to be used for sleeping or storing fresh-kill. To her surprise, Squirrelflight saw that part of the rock wall had crumbled away here, and it wouldn’t be too difficult for an agile cat to climb right to the top of the cliff.

Leafpool had found a secret way out of the camp! It occurred to Squirrelflight that her sister must know the way very well, to have vanished already. How many times had she used this exit before?

Squirrelflight launched herself upward, fighting her way through the tendrils of bramble and sinking her claws into a straggling bush that had rooted itself in a crack. At last she scrambled over the edge of the hollow and dived for cover into the nearest clump of ferns, her ears pricked for any sound in the hollow below that might mean some cat had spotted her.

But everything was quiet, except for the rustle of wind in the branches. Gradually Squirrelflight’s racing heartbeat slowed, and she dared to poke her head out of the ferns to look around.

Leafpool was nowhere to be seen, but it didn’t take long for Squirrelflight to pick up her scent. The trail skirted the top of the hollow, then set off into the forest.

Squirrelflight followed, pausing every now and then to taste the air. She wanted to believe that Leafpool had left the hollow on medicine cat business, but as far as she knew, there were no herbs that had to be gathered by moonlight. Besides, the way Leafpool had sneaked out of camp, and the mingled guilt and excitement Squirrelflight picked up from her, meant that she must be doing something she shouldn’t.

You could have told me, Squirrelflight thought crossly. Maybe I could have helped.

Leafpool’s scent trail wound around hazel thickets and clumps of fern. After a while Squirrelflight realized she could hear the gurgling of the stream that marked the border with WindClan. She stopped and thought for a moment. Could Leafpool be going to the Moonpool? If she were, she would be furious that Squirrelflight was intruding on a medicine cat ritual. But if that were the case, why sneak out of the camp?

Leafpool wouldn’t mind if every cat in the Clan knew she was going to share tongues with StarClan.

Squirrelflight went on, doing her best to follow the trail, but the woodland was full of the smell of newly bursting leaves and rising sap. Mouthwatering hints of prey crossed and recrossed Leafpool’s scent, until Squirrelflight could hardly distinguish it from all the others that flooded her senses. Several times she had to stop and take deep, gulping breaths before she could go on. Once she thought she had lost the trail on a bare patch of ground where rock pushed up close to the surface, but she picked it up again on the other side. Then the scent vanished completely in a patch of marshy ground, and though Squirrelflight padded all over it with her nose to the ground she couldn’t find it again.

“Huh!” she grunted. “Call yourself a hunter?”

She could still hear the sound of running water, and she slid silently through the trees until she came in sight of the stream. The breeze brought WindClan scent to her; could Leafpool have crossed the border into WindClan territory?

For a heartbeat Squirrelflight thought of crossing to see if she could pick up her sister’s scent on the other side. But there was always the chance that some WindClan cat might have felt like hunting at night. If she were spotted on their territory there would be big trouble, with Onestar feeling the way he did about ThunderClan. Squirrelflight decided she would have a better chance of finding out what Leafpool was up to if she went back and waited outside the hollow until she returned.

She crouched among the ferns above the place where the cliff had crumbled away, guessing Leafpool would return the same way she had left. Her belly growled with hunger, but she didn’t want to hunt in case she missed her sister.

The sky was growing milky with the first sign of dawn when she heard a cat approaching through the undergrowth.

Squirrelflight drew in her sister’s scent; rising to her paws, she saw Leafpool coming toward her, her head lowered and her tail brushing the grass.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

Leafpool’s head shot up and she stared at her sister in dismay. “What are you doing out here? Have you been spying on me?”

“No, you daft furball.” Squirrelflight padded up to her sister, wanting to brush against her fur and reassure her, but Leafpool drew back a pace, and her eyes were wary. “I saw you leave last night, that’s all, and I’m worried about you. I know something’s wrong. Can’t you tell me what it is?”

The strength of Leafpool’s emotions almost swept Squirrelflight off her paws. She could tell her sister longed to confide in her, but a barrier stronger than thorns blocked her way. Squirrelflight’s belly clenched. Leafpool’s problem must be even more serious than she had thought.

Leafpool shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong. Leave me alone.”

“I’m hardly going to do that now,” Squirrelflight scoffed.

“Leafpool, this isn’t like you, sneaking off—”

“Sneaking!” Leafpool hissed, her tail fluffing out in fury.

“You’re a fine one to talk! Why is it okay for you to sneak out and follow me?”

“I didn’t!” Squirrelflight protested. “I only wanted to know what was wrong.”

“It’s none of your business! If you trusted me, you wouldn’t ask all these questions.”

“Fine!” Squirrelflight snapped. “My sister’s in trouble and I’m supposed to ignore that?”

“If I wanted your help I would ask for it!” Leafpool flashed back at her.

“You know you need help.” Squirrelflight made a huge effort to control her fury. “If it’s medicine cat stuff, why don’t you talk to Cinderpelt?”

“Cinderpelt never listens to me.” Leafpool’s voice was sad.

“She’s got Brightheart to help her. She doesn’t need me.”

“That’s the most mousebrained thing I’ve ever heard!”

Leafpool let out a hiss. “And you’re so wise and clever all of a sudden? I suppose you’re going to tell Firestar about this, too.”

Squirrelflight’s anger died away. Her sister seemed so desperate, it was impossible to go on challenging her. Wherever she had been, whatever she had been doing, it hadn’t made her happy.

“I won’t tell any cat,” she mewed quietly. “You’d better get back to your den before you’re missed.”

Leafpool nodded and brushed past, then turned and gave her such a sorrowful look that Squirrelflight felt a pang pierce her heart, as sharp as a thorn.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice so low that Squirrelflight could scarcely hear her. “I’d tell you if I could, I promise.”

Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared over the edge of the hollow.

Squirrelflight stayed where she was, shaking like a leaf in the wind. She knew there was no point in going back to her den and trying to sleep. Her belly growled again, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten. She would hunt for a while: a vole for herself, maybe, and then as much prey as she could catch for the fresh-kill pile. She turned to plunge back into the forest, and jumped as the undergrowth rustled and Brambleclaw stepped out.

“Was that Leafpool I saw just now? Where had she been?”

“I’ve no idea,” Squirrelflight replied, her pelt prickling.

“She doesn’t need permission to leave the camp.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed; he clearly guessed Squirrelflight was hiding something from him. “It’s not safe for cats to wander around alone at night,” he commented.

“I think it was medicine cat stuff.” Squirrelflight automatically lied to protect her sister. “You know, looking for herbs.”

Brambleclaw blinked; Squirrelflight wasn’t sure she’d convinced him. He might have noticed that Leafpool hadn’t been carrying any herbs when she vanished into camp. And why would she have climbed down the cliff instead of using the tunnel? Squirrelflight’s tail twitched in her eagerness to get away before the tabby warrior could go on questioning her.

“I’m going hunting,” she mewed briskly.

“So am I.” Brambleclaw hesitated as if he were about to suggest they hunted together.

That was the last thing Squirrelflight wanted. “Well, I’m going this way.” She swung around and headed in the direction of the ShadowClan border, glancing over her shoulder to add, “See you later.”

She could feel the tabby warrior’s gaze following her as she plunged into the undergrowth, and she couldn’t stifle a pang of regret, deep within her belly. Once, she would have told him everything about Leafpool, trusting him to do everything he could to help. Now she didn’t trust him at all—especially not to keep her sister’s secret, whatever it was.

Squirrelflight couldn’t imagine what it could be, but fear for Leafpool hung over her like a heavy black cloud that would soon unleash a storm.