by Erin Hunter
“Will she travel with you?” Squirrelflight wondered if dead cats could wander wherever they pleased.
“For a while,” Snow murmured. “Until the kits are grown. She’ll move on then.”
“Where will she go?” Did the Sisters have their own version of StarClan?
Snow shrugged. “Who knows?” Her gaze flitted past Squirrelflight.
Tree was approaching. “Hi, Squirrelflight.” He pricked his ears happily. “It’s good to see you looking well.”
“Will you escort me to the border?” Squirrelflight nodded to the camp entrance. It was time she got back to her Clan. Sparkpelt was going to give Finchkit and Flamekit their first taste of mouse, and she wanted to be there to see if they enjoyed it.
“Sure.” Tree whisked his tail.
“Travel safely.” Squirrelflight dipped her head to Snow and Tempest.
“Thanks for everything you did.” Snow blinked.
Tempest shifted her paws. “You didn’t ask what we’d named the kits.”
Squirrelflight pricked her ears. “What?”
Snow purred. “Leaf, Squirrel, and Moon.”
Squirrelflight’s pelt pricked self-consciously. “I’m honored.” She wondered if Leafpool was watching. Did she know that the Sisters had named a kit after her? “Thank you.” She padded away, Tree at her side.
As they ducked out of camp, he looked at her eagerly. “I’m so glad I didn’t have to deliver your message.” His pelt prickled as though remembering made him nervous. “I didn’t think you’d make it. I’ve never spoken to a ghost that wasn’t dead before.”
“Do you see Moonlight now?”
Tree fluffed out his fur. “I don’t want to,” he grunted. “She abandoned me in life. Why should I have to put up with her in death?”
Squirrelflight heard bitterness in his mew. “But you’re sorry she’s dead, right?”
“Of course.” Tree followed the track around a swath of bracken. “Her kits deserve to have a mother, even if only for a short while.”
“They’ll have the Sisters.”
“I guess.” Tree stared along the trail. “But Rootkit and Needlekit will have a father and a mother for as long as they need them, and if they’re in trouble, they’ll always have a Clan to turn to.”
Squirrelflight purred. She was glad that Tree seemed to have finally learned to appreciate Clan life. “You’re starting to sound like a warrior.”
CHAPTER 30
Squirrelflight gazed at the moon through the fluttering leaves of the Great Oak. In front of her, the Clans murmured softly to one another as their leaders took their places on the lowest branch. She remembered the last Gathering, where tempers had flared and the Clans had bayed like foxes for war against the Sisters. Now Moonlight was dead, and so was Leafpool; SkyClan had new territory, and the borders had been redrawn once again. Had those borders been worth two deaths? Of course not. She shook out her pelt.
“How are Moonlight’s kits getting on?” she whispered to Hawkwing, who sat beside her with the other Clan deputies at the foot of the oak.
“They’re thriving.” Hawkwing’s eyes sparkled fondly. “They’ll be ready to travel in a half-moon.”
“I expect Violetshine will miss them.”
“She will.” Hawkwing shifted his paws. “But she’ll be glad to lose the Sisters. A new mother gets enough advice from her Clanmates. She doesn’t need extra help from outsiders.”
Squirrelflight pressed back a purr. She could imagine that the Sisters had strong opinions about raising kits, and they wouldn’t be shy about offering them. “Have they helped you settle into their old territory?”
“They showed us where we can find the best hunting and the freshest streams,” Hawkwing told her.
“That was kind of them after what happened.”
“SkyClan didn’t attack their camp.” Hawkwing’s gaze flashed reproachfully toward the ShadowClan and WindClan warriors moving in the moonlight in front of him. “I think the Sisters respect us for it.”
Squirrelflight followed his gaze, searching for a glimmer of shame in the eyes of the warriors. They had killed a queen who’d been protecting the kits she’d just given birth to. Her pelt prickled with fresh anger. They’d behaved more like rogues than warriors. “Do you think the Clans will ever admit they were wrong to do what they did?”
“I think it’s best forgotten.” Hawkwing swished his tail. “It can’t be undone.”
Dust showered from the branch above as Leafstar stepped forward and addressed the Clans. “SkyClan has moved to our new territory. We’ve almost finished building our camp. There is plenty of prey. We haven’t seen any foxes or snakes inside the borders, but the Clan is on high alert while we adapt to the new landscape.”
“What about the Sisters?” Scorchfur called from among the ShadowClan cats. “Have they left yet?”
Leafstar glared at the ShadowClan warrior. “How can they leave when you killed the mother of their newborn kits? Some cat must nurse them! We owe them that much after murdering their mother.”
“It wasn’t murder!” Strikestone bristled. “It was a battle.”
“A battle for land we could have had in a moon if we’d simply waited.” Leafstar’s hackles lifted.
Tigerstar’s ears twitched. “The Sisters may stay on Clan territory until the kits are weaned,” he meowed, his gaze unreadable. “They no longer pose a threat to the Clans.”
Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “They never did!”
Tigerstar’s gaze flashed toward her. “They managed to turn you against your Clan.”
“That’s not true!” Shock sparked beneath her pelt.
“Then why did you warn them about our patrol?” he snapped. “We found you in their camp!”
“I was worried about Moonlight’s kits,” Squirrelflight shot back. “And with good reason!”
“Squirrelflight would never betray her Clan!” Bramblestar’s yowl took Squirrelflight by surprise. The ThunderClan leader stared at the gathered cats, his eyes glittering with indignation. Then he dipped his head. “But let’s not argue. Each Clan has enough territory to see them through leaf-bare. We’ve done what we set out to do. We may never agree on how we did it, but it’s in the past now. We can’t change what happened.”
The Clans shifted uneasily as a soft murmur rippled through the crowd. Bramblestar went on, his fur smoothing. “Moonlight’s death was regrettable, but SkyClan has done what it can, offering shelter to her kits until they are strong enough to travel. One of our Clanmates died saving them, too. We should honor her. She died trying to save others, which is how she lived.”
Squirrelflight’s throat tightened as the Clans fell silent. Puddleshine’s eyes glistened with grief. Among the WindClan cats, she saw warriors dip their heads.
“Leafpool will be remembered for as long as there are warriors to remember her.” Willowshine’s mew rang in the chilly night air. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Clans.
Kestrelflight lifted his muzzle. “She will find peace in StarClan.”
“Leafpool.” Jayfeather called her name to the stars.
“Leafpool.” Kestrelflight echoed his mew.
“Leafpool! Leafpool!” Her name spread through the Clans as others began to chant, their voices lifting like a breeze into the night sky.
Squirrelflight shivered. She’d never realized how respected Leafpool was among the other Clans. Beside her, Crowfeather was staring ahead, grimly silent, as though fighting back emotion. She saw his pelt ripple and felt a twinge of pity. Had he loved Leafpool all this time?
What did it matter if he had? She’d lived and died without him. As she pushed the thought away, Bramblestar shifted on the branch above. He nodded toward Squirrelflight. “My deputy has news to share from StarClan.”
“Your deputy?” Tigerstar pricked his ears. “What news can she possibly have from StarClan? She’s not a medicine cat. The medicine cats say StarClan is still silent.”
“If you listen,” B
ramblestar grunted, “she’ll tell you.”
Squirrelflight got to her paws and gazed around the gathered cats. “When I was wounded after the landslide, I spent time in StarClan.” Ears pricked and pelts prickled among the watching cats. She went on, trying to explain. “I was close to death. Close enough for StarClan to allow me into their hunting grounds.” She tried not to think about how she’d had to argue for her place there after death. “I was reunited with kin and Clanmates, and I spoke with Leafpool. She is happy there, and though she will miss her life in the forest, she was ready to move on.” Surprised murmuring sprung up among the older warriors, who exchanged glances. Squirrelflight went on. “Firestar gave me a message for the Clans. He said we must turn toward StarClan, not away.”
“But they don’t always answer when we turn to them,” Emberfoot complained. Around him the other WindClan warriors nodded.
“That’s true,” Mallownose added.
Bramblestar flicked his tail. “StarClan knows what they’re doing,” he meowed solemnly. “If they want us to turn toward them, then we will.”
“And what if they don’t answer?” Shimmerpelt fluffed out her glossy pelt.
Squirrelflight gazed around the Clans. “Perhaps we haven’t been hearing their answers.” She remembered how hard it had been trying to share with the living when she’d only been close to death. “We should try harder to listen.”
Puddleshine nodded. “We will listen harder,” he promised.
“StarClan will guide us,” Willowshine added.
As the Gathering broke up and the Clans swished away through the long grass, Squirrelflight hung back, not wanting to leave yet. This was the first Gathering she’d been to without her sister. Bramblestar had stopped at the edge of the deserted clearing as Jayfeather, Thornclaw, and Lionblaze followed their Clanmates to the tree-bridge. “Are you coming?” he called to her.
“I need a moment to remember Leafpool,” she told him.
Bramblestar padded to join her. His pelt brushed hers as he stood beside her. The wind was chilly, and she leaned against him, relishing his warmth.
“I’m glad we’re not arguing anymore,” she breathed.
“So am I.” He touched his muzzle to her ear. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d died. I don’t think I could’ve gone on without you.”
“Of course you could.” She nuzzled his cheek. “Your Clan needs you. I know you would never let them down.”
“I’m only strong because of you.” A purr throbbed in his throat. “Promise me we’ll never argue like that again. That we’ll always talk things out before they get too bad.”
She looked into his eyes. “You have to trust me,” she murmured. “You must always know that you and ThunderClan are the most important things to me. I would never let you down.”
“I know,” he breathed. “And I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Ever since you were an apprentice, you’ve challenged me. And it’s always made me stronger. You’ve helped me see things in a different way.” His gaze shone and she shivered, sensing his love like a breeze enfolding her.
“Look.” He looked up. “Is that a new star?”
She followed his gaze into the star-specked sky. A bright star glinted among the others. Her heart quickened. “Do you think it’s her?”
“Leafpool?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know, but I know she’s watching over you.” Bramblestar pressed closer.
“She’s watching over the whole Clan.” A lump pressed in Squirrelflight’s throat. “She always will.”
READ ON FOR AN EXCLUSIVE MANGA ADVENTURE . . .
CREATED BY
ERIN HUNTER
WRITTEN BY
DAN JOLLEY
ART BY
JAMES L. BARRY
Excerpt from Bravelands #1: Broken Pride
CHAPTER ONE
Swiftcub pounced after the vulture’s shadow, but it flitted away too quickly to follow. Breathing hard, he pranced back to his pride. I saw that bird off our territory, he thought, delighted. No rot-eater’s going to come near Gallantpride while I’m around!
The pride needed him to defend it, Swiftcub thought, picking up his paws and strutting around his family. Why, right now they were all half asleep, dozing and basking in the shade of the acacia trees. The most energetic thing the other lions were doing was lifting their heads to groom their nearest neighbors, or their own paws. They had no idea of the threat Swiftcub had just banished.
I might be only a few moons old, but my father is the strongest, bravest lion in Bravelands. And I’m going to be just like him!
“Swiftcub!”
The gentle but commanding voice snapped him out of his dreams of glory. He came to a halt, turning and flicking his ears at the regal lioness who stood over him.
“Mother,” he said, shifting on his paws.
“Why are you shouting at vultures?” Swift scolded him fondly, licking at his ears. “They’re nothing but scavengers. Come on, you and your sister can play later. Right now you’re supposed to be practicing hunting. And if you’re going to catch anything, you’ll need to keep your eyes on the prey, not on the sky!”
“Sorry, Mother.” Guiltily he padded after her as she led him through the dry grass, her tail swishing. The ground rose gently, and Swiftcub had to trot to keep up. The grasses tickled his nose, and he was so focused on trying not to sneeze, he almost bumped into his mother’s haunches as she crouched.
“Oops,” he growled.
Valor shot him a glare. His older sister was hunched a little to the left of their mother, fully focused on their hunting practice. Valor’s sleek body was low to the ground, her muscles tense; as she moved one paw forward with the utmost caution, Swiftcub tried to copy her, though it was hard to keep up on his much shorter legs. One creeping pace, then two. Then another.
I’m being very quiet, just like Valor. I’m going to be a great hunter. He slunk up alongside his mother, who remained quite still.
“There, Swiftcub,” she murmured. “Do you see the burrows?”
He did, now. Ahead of the three lions, the ground rose up even higher, into a bare, sandy mound dotted with small shadowy holes. As Swiftcub watched, a small nose and whiskers poked out, testing the air. The meerkat emerged completely, stood up on its hind legs, and stared around. Satisfied, it stuck out a pink tongue and began to groom its chest, as more meerkats appeared beyond it. Growing in confidence, they scurried farther away from their burrows.
“Careful now,” rumbled Swift. “They’re very quick. Go!”
Swiftcub sprang forward, his little paws bounding over the ground. Still, he wasn’t fast enough to outpace Valor, who was far ahead of him already. A stab of disappointment spoiled his excitement, and suddenly it was even harder to run fast, but he ran grimly after his sister.
The startled meerkats were already doubling back into their holes. Stubby tails flicked and vanished; the bigger leader, his round dark eyes glaring at the oncoming lions, was last to twist and dash underground. Valor’s jaws snapped at his tail, just missing.
“Sky and stone!” the bigger cub swore, coming to a halt in a cloud of dust. She shook her head furiously and licked her jaws. “I nearly had it!”
A rumble of laughter made Swiftcub turn. His father, Gallant, stood watching them. Swiftcub couldn’t help but feel the usual twinge of awe mixed in with his delight. Black-maned and huge, his sleek fur glowing golden in the sun, Gallant would have been intimidating if Swiftcub hadn’t known and loved him so well. Swift rose to her paws and greeted the great lion affectionately, rubbing his maned neck with her head.
“It was a good attempt, Valor,” Gallant reassured his daughter. “What Swift said is true: meerkats are very hard to catch. You were so close—one day you’ll be as fine a hunter as your mother.” He nuzzled Swift and licked her neck.
“I wasn’t anywhere near it,” grumbled Swiftcub. “I’ll never be as fast as Valor.”
“Oh, you will,” said Gallant.
“Don’t forget, Valor’s a whole year older than you, my son. You’re getting bigger and faster every day. Be patient!” He stepped closer, leaning in so his great tawny muzzle brushed Swiftcub’s own. “That’s the secret to stalking, too. Learn patience, and one day you too will be a very fine hunter.”
“I hope so,” said Swiftcub meekly.
Gallant nuzzled him. “Don’t doubt yourself, my cub. You’re going to be a great lion and the best kind of leader: one who keeps his own pride safe and content, but puts fear into the heart of his strongest enemy!”
That does sound good! Feeling much better, Swiftcub nodded. Gallant nipped affectionately at the tufty fur on top of his head and padded toward Valor.
Swiftcub watched him proudly. He’s right, of course. Father knows everything! And I will be a great hunter, I will. And a brave, strong leader—
A tiny movement caught his eye, a scuttling shadow in his father’s path.
A scorpion!
Barely pausing to think, Swiftcub sprang, bowling between his father’s paws and almost tripping him. He skidded to a halt right in front of Gallant, snarling at the small sand-yellow scorpion. It paused, curling up its barbed tail and raising its pincers in threat.
“No, Swiftcub!” cried his father.
Swiftcub swiped his paw sideways at the creature, catching its plated shell and sending it flying into the long grass.
All four lions watched the grass, holding their breath, waiting for a furious scorpion to reemerge. But there was no stir of movement. It must have fled. Swiftcub sat back, his heart suddenly banging against his ribs.
“Skies above!” Gallant laughed. Valor gaped, and Swift dragged her cub into her paws and began to lick him roughly.
“Mother . . .” he protested.
“Honestly, Swiftcub!” she scolded him as her tongue swept across his face. “Your father might have gotten a nasty sting from that creature—but you could have been killed!”
