by Erin Hunter
“They’ll join me eventually.” Leafpool looked across the meadow. Firestar and Sandstorm were padding toward them, Hollyleaf beside them.
Squirrelflight’s thoughts whirled. “Why am I here? Am I going to die?” Bramblestar’s scent still lingered on her tongue. “I want to go back!”
“Be patient,” Leafpool murmured. “You can’t change what will happen by wishing.”
Firestar reached them, Sandstorm and Hollyleaf at his side. “She might be able to change this.” He blinked calmly at Squirrelflight.
Leafpool looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Jayfeather and Alderheart’s herbs are working.” Firestar held Squirrelflight’s gaze. “She can live if she fights. But her spirit must be willing to go back.”
“Of course I want to go back!” Squirrelflight pricked her ears eagerly.
Sandstorm’s gaze was dark. “You were badly hurt,” she told Squirrelflight. “You can choose to live, but your life in ThunderClan might be very different from the one you know now. What if your injured leg doesn’t heal properly? You’ll have a limp. Will you be able to be deputy? Will Bramblestar want you as deputy? You defied his authority when you helped the Sisters. I know this is hard to hear, but what if he doesn’t want you, even as a mate?”
“That’s why I have to go back!” Squirrelflight stared at her mother. “I don’t care what happens. I have to make things right with my Clan and with Bramblestar. And my kits are there.”
“You have kits here, too,” Sandstorm pressed. “You’ll be able to care for Juniperkit and Dandelionkit. And Leafpool will be here. Don’t you remember what I told you after your apprentice ceremony? As long as you have each other, you’ll both stand tall.”
Squirrelflight flicked her tail. “What’s the good in standing tall in StarClan? ThunderClan needs me. Lionblaze and Jayfeather need me. If Leafpool is dead, I can’t let them lose me too.”
Sandstorm’s eyes glistened. “I don’t want you to suffer any more than you have. Look how happy Briarlight is here. You don’t want to return to a life like hers, do you?” Sandstorm’s eyes rounded imploringly. “Didn’t you promise that you wouldn’t let anything drive you and Leafpool apart?” She glanced at Leafpool. “Why not join her here? Then you’ll always be together. You’ll be safe.”
Firestar touched his nose to Sandstorm’s cheek. “Squirrelflight must make her own decision,” he mewed softly. “Just as she’s always done.”
Leafpool’s star-speckled fur rippled along her spine. “Death won’t separate us.” Squirrelflight’s heart twisted as Leafpool met her gaze. “We promised always to stick together, and it won’t be any different now. If you go back, I’ll watch over you. And one day, we will be together again.”
Squirrelflight’s throat tightened. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
“We’ve been apart before,” Leafpool told her. “It only made our relationship stronger.”
Squirrelflight closed her eyes for a moment. Leaving Leafpool would be hard. “If I can go back, perhaps you can too, if you try.” She blinked hopefully at her sister.
Leafpool shook her head. “ThunderClan doesn’t need me. I know I’ll be missed. But Jayfeather and Alderheart can take care of all the medicine-cat duties. Jayfeather and Lionblaze will still have you. I’ll be happy here. I feel like I’ve come home.” She blinked lovingly at Firestar and Sandstorm, then looked at Hollyleaf and purred. “I’ve been away from them too long.”
Firestar tipped his head to one side and blinked at Squirrelflight. “Are you going back?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you,” he mewed.
She lifted her chin. “My Clan needs me.”
“They’re lucky to have you.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you must tell them to turn toward StarClan, not away from us. We can help—”
Squirrelflight blinked at him. “We’re not turning away from StarClan.” What did he mean? “You’ve been quiet lately, that’s all. We’ve been listening for messages that don’t come.”
“Perhaps you haven’t been listening hard enough!” Firestar flicked his tail.
Squirrelflight frowned. Had the Clans been missing the signs StarClan had sent them? She knew now how hard it was to communicate with the living. “We’ll try harder to hear you.” She touched her nose to Firestar’s muzzle. “I must go now. Bramblestar will be wondering what happened.”
She brushed her mother’s cheek with her own. “Tell Dandelionkit and Juniperkit that I’ll be back. And when Bramblestar joins us, we’ll be a family.”
“Take care.” Sandstorm pulled away and blinked anxiously at Squirrelflight. “Whatever happens, be brave.”
“I will.” Squirrelflight turned to Leafpool. “I’m sorry I have to leave you.”
“I understand why you do,” Leafpool mewed. “Tell Jayfeather and Lionblaze that I always loved them with a mother’s love and I always will. Tell them I’m sorry for the lie. I was trying to protect them, not hurt them. I’ll never forgive myself for the pain I caused, and I’ll be watching over them, and you.” She ran her tail along Squirrelflight’s spine. “Even when you feel I’m a long way away.”
Squirrelflight gazed at her sister, fixing a picture of her in her mind—her eyes bright, her pelt sparkling, a purr in her throat. She wanted to remember this, if she was going back to bury her body. “Okay.” She nodded at Firestar. “I’m ready.” She glanced across the meadow, looking for the pond.
Firestar seemed to guess what she was thinking. “You don’t need to swim back this time. StarClan is ready to let you go. Close your eyes.”
Squirrelflight closed her eyes and saw brightness. The blue of the sky seemed to swirl down and wrap her in a dazzling embrace. The ground disappeared from beneath her paws. As she fell, memories flashed in her thoughts.
“Squirrelkit! Come and play!” She was in the ThunderClan nursery, back in the old forest. Leafkit was calling to her from the entrance.
“Be careful!” Sandstorm called as Squirrelflight raced into the clearing, chasing Leafkit.
“You can’t catch me!” Leafkit glanced over her shoulder, her pelt fluffed with excitement.
“Yes I can.” Heart quickening, Squirrelflight hared after her, the wind in her fur.
The camp seemed to shift, and suddenly Leafpaw was standing beside her. They were apprentices again.
Leafpaw purred. “I can call you Squirrelface if you like.”
Squirrelflight blinked at her. “You haven’t called me Squirrelface in moons.” Her heart ached with longing.
“Come on.” Leafpaw padded across the clearing toward Cinderpelt and Dustpelt. “Let’s tell them to hurry up.”
This wasn’t what had happened. “We waited for them to finish talking.” Squirrelflight hurried after her. Were Leafpaw’s memories different from hers?
“Hurry up!” Leafpaw whisked her tail as she reached Cinderpelt. “I’ve got so much to learn. We have to hurry. I won’t be around forever.”
As Cinderpelt turned, the forest blurred and then flashed into focus once more. She was in the lake camp now, and Brambleclaw was glaring at her. “Couldn’t you have told me the truth?”
She remembered his words. They were seared into her heart. He was talking about the lie she and Leafpool had told about Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf. She’d told him they were his kits. He’d been so angry. “It was never my secret to tell,” she breathed. “Leafpool had so much to lose.”
“She lost everything anyway!” Brambleclaw snarled.
“No I didn’t.” Relief washed Squirrelflight’s pelt as she heard Leafpool’s mew. Her sister was facing Brambleclaw, pride rippling through her fur. “I watched my kits grow into fine warriors, and I still serve my Clan with all my heart.”
And suddenly they were older, lying in the warmth of the setting sun.
“You said you were going to be Clan leader.” Leafpool swished her tail over the ground. “We were going to rule the whole forest and be the most pow
erful cats who ever lived.”
Squirrelflight purred as the memory warmed her. “We were very young.” She gazed across the clearing to where Lionblaze and Jayfeather were sharing a rabbit with Sparkpelt and Alderheart. Bramblestar was scrambling down the rock tumble toward them.
Leafpool got to her paws. “Take care of them.” She blinked lovingly at Squirrelflight and padded away.
As Leafpool faded into shadow, Squirrelflight closed her eyes. She felt solid earth beneath her and bracken sticking into her pelt. She was home. Good-bye, Leafpool. Her sister had had been her best friend. Without her, ThunderClan would never feel the same. Grief pulled at her heart as she drifted into darkness. I’ll miss you.
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 help
ing 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.
