by Erin Hunter
Needleclaw sniffed. “Suit yourself.” Pelt ruffled, she padded downslope toward a meadow specked with wild flowers.
Spotfur glanced after her. “I want to hunt alone today too.”
Bristlefrost blinked at her. “Are you sure?”
“I need time to think,” Spotfur told her firmly.
Bristlefrost’s paws pricked as Spotfur headed away. Should she let Spotfur hunt alone? This was strange territory, after all.
Rootspring’s mew cut through her thoughts. “You can hunt with me, if you like,” he offered.
“Thanks.” Perhaps Spotfur did need time to think. Hunting might restore her spirits and help her come to terms with the idea of expecting kits. She blinked at Rootspring. “Which way do you want to go?”
Rootspring nodded to a beech copse a little way away. “There will be mice there.”
“Or rabbits.” Bristlefrost narrowed her gaze. Were those burrow entrances showing in the grass? She fell in beside Rootspring as he headed across the field. He gazed into the distance. Was he looking for signs of Leaf? “You liked him, didn’t you?”
“He’s my kin.” Rootspring’s eyes shone. “And he kind of reminded me of Tree.”
Bristlefrost thought about the way Leaf and Rootspring had hunted together last night: the way they’d pushed through long grass, muzzles lifted and shoulders squared, and the way they’d crouched when they’d spotted prey. “He reminded me of you,” Bristlefrost told him.
“Really?” Rootspring blinked at her happily. Fondness pricked Bristlefrost’s heart. He seemed proud to have kin like Leaf. Rootspring whisked his tail. “It’s weird to think that I might be wandering too if I’d been raised by the Sisters.”
Bristlefrost glanced at him. “Wouldn’t you hate being alone all the time?”
Rootspring frowned. “I don’t know. Leaf seems to enjoy it.”
Bristlefrost suppressed a shiver. “I can’t imagine living without a Clan. It feels like part of me. More than kin, even. And would you know how to live without the warrior code to guide you?”
“The Sisters must have their own code,” Rootspring pointed out. “One that they teach their toms before they send them away. Otherwise they’d be no more than loners.”
“Isn’t that exactly what they are?” Bristlefrost argued.
“Of course not!” Rootspring swung his muzzle toward her. “Leaf was clearly more than a loner. The earth speaks to him. Perhaps it tells him how to live.”
Bristlefrost wasn’t convinced. The earth had never spoken to her, or to any cat in the Clans. But she didn’t point this out. Instead she shrugged. “I guess I’m just happier in a Clan.”
“Even now that everything’s changed?” Rootspring asked.
Bristlefrost’s fur prickled defensively. She didn’t want to think about the rifts in Thunderclan. Flipclaw had left. So had Graystripe, Thornclaw, and too many others. But perhaps there was nothing wrong with cats taking time out to think. Wasn’t that what Spotfur was doing now? “Things are getting back to normal now that Squirrelflight’s in charge,” she told him.
Rootspring frowned. “But she hasn’t been accepted by StarClan yet.”
“Maybe not, but she’s doing her best,” Bristlefrost mewed sharply. “And she’ll keep doing her best until we can get Bramblestar back.”
“What if we can’t?” Rootspring asked softly. “What if things don’t get better? Would you think about leaving Thunderclan?”
“Of course not.” Why did he have to talk about the future? No cat knew what was going to happen, but it would have to get better. The Clans had been through so much. “I’ll always be loyal to Thunderclan,” she told him firmly. “Nothing would make me leave.” As she spoke, doubt tugged at her belly. Was that true? As much as she tried to deny it, Thunderclan had changed. It no longer felt like the Clan she’d been raised in.
Rootspring gazed ahead once more, his pelt smoothing along his spine. “If we can persuade the Sisters to come back with us, and if they help us find Bramblestar, things might go back to normal.”
“We have to find them first.” Bristlefrost felt suddenly anxious.
“Leaf told us where they are,” Rootspring reminded her. “I have faith in him.”
Bristlefrost halted. “What if they won’t come home with us?” Her heart began to pound. “What if they do, but they can’t find Bramblestar?”
Rootspring met her gaze. “We have to find them first. Then we’ll see what happens.” He stiffened suddenly, his nose twitching. “Can you smell that?”
Bristlefrost’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” she whispered. Was something tracking them?
Rootspring’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Rabbit.”
Bristlefrost followed his gaze as it flicked past her. Gray fur flashed in the grass a few tree-lengths away. She dropped into a crouch, her attention fixed on their prey. Her worries melted as moons of training guided her paws. Stealthily, she began to creep through the grass. She twitched her tail, signaling to Rootspring to head the other way so they could outflank the rabbit, but he was already on his way, as though they’d shared the same thought. Triumph flashed beneath Bristlefrost’s fur. She could hunt together with Rootspring as intuitively as Needleclaw could.
As they moved around the rabbit silently, carefully, they seemed to match each other, like a single cat reflected in a pool. The rabbit was nibbling in a patch thick with dandelions, its long ears twitching as it listened for signs of danger. It hasn’t heard us. Excitement built in Bristlefrost’s muscles. Her mouth began to water. In a few more paw steps they could attack. She kept her tail still, only a whisker above the ground, as she padded nearer. Three more paw steps. She caught Rootspring’s eye and knew he was ready. Holding his gaze, she lifted a paw, preparing to attack.
A screech cut across the meadow, splitting the air. Bristlefrost’s pelt spiked as she recognized the agonized shriek of her Clanmate. Spotfur’s in trouble!
She spun around, scanning the meadow. Spotfur must be beyond the hedge. Bristlefrost’s blood seemed to turn to ice beneath her pelt as the shriek sounded again. Surging forward, she raced across the field, hearing paw steps at her heels. Rootspring hurtled past her and she quickened her pace, keeping up with him as he streaked through a gap in the hedge. She burst into the clearing, her pelt spiking with alarm. Spotfur was struggling to free herself from the long, sharp talons of a hawk. The bird had grabbed her flanks, its massive wings beating the air as it tried to haul her from the ground. Panic glittering in her eyes, Spotfur clutched at the earth with outstretched claws.
Needleclaw was pounding toward them as Rootspring leaped for the hawk and grabbed its wing. Unbalanced, the bird shrieked but clung harder to Spotfur. Blood streaked the Thunderclan warrior’s pelt, and Bristlefrost saw pain flash in her eyes.
She leaped for the other wing, digging her claws into the feathers until she felt flesh, then bone. The hawk’s fierce gaze jerked toward her, and, faster than a snake, it struck with its beak. Pain seared her neck as it hooked her flesh and tore out a lump of fur. She clung on, pressing back a yowl, but the hawk was strong. It heaved her away with a flap of its wing, and she tumbled across the grass.
Rootspring was crouching against the earth, blood dripping from his ear as Needleclaw reached them and reared to sink her teeth into the hawk’s leg. Spotfur dropped to the ground as the bird released her; talon marks showed in her flanks.
“Spotfur!” Bristlefrost raced toward her as Needleclaw backed away. But Spotfur’s eyes had lit with rage. She wheeled around and leaped at the hawk as it struggled into the air.
What are you doing? Bristlefrost couldn’t believe her eyes.
Rootspring stared at her in shock. “Let it go!”
Spotfur didn’t seem to hear. Darting beneath the hawk’s beating wings, she reached for its belly and tried to drag it back to the ground. It lunged, ripping her pelt with a talon, and hooked its beak into her shoulder, but she twisted from its grip and raked at its neck with her claws.
“I’ve nearly beaten it!” Spotfur hissed back, her eyes wild.
Was Spotfur crazy? The hawk had already proved it was too strong to be caught.
Spotfur’s claws were hooked into the hawk’s belly. It flapped its wings, confusion showing in its eyes as it began to lift from the ground.
Bristlefrost’s mouth was dry with horror as Spotfur’s hind paws left the earth. “Let go!” Her yowl seemed to split the air as, with another flap of its wings, the hawk regained its balance and kicked Spotfur away, wheeling clear as she thumped onto the grass.
Bristlefrost darted to her friend’s side, relieved as Spotfur staggered to her paws. “What were you thinking?”
Blood welled on Spotfur’s flanks and stained the fur around her neck. She glared at Bristlefrost as though she felt no pain. “I nearly had it!” she snarled.
“Do you have bees in your brain?” Needleclaw’s eyes were as wide as an owl’s.
Rootspring hurried toward them. “It was too big for us to catch!”
“I could have—” Spotfur’s mew became a gasp. Her paw buckled beneath her.
Bristlefrost’s heart leaped into her throat. “What’s wrong?” She thrust her muzzle close to Spotfur’s.
“It’s okay,” Spotfur growled through clenched teeth. “I think I’ve wrenched my shoulder.”
Needleclaw snorted. “Just be grateful that’s the worst thing that happened,” she scolded. “You could have been killed.” She padded to Spotfur’s side and glared at her as Spotfur pushed herself into a sitting position and caught her breath. “And what about your kits? Did you think of them? It’s not just your life you’re putting at risk now. Is this what Thunderclan warriors do? Charge after prey too dangerous to catch? How will we find the Sisters if you can barely walk?”
Spotfur met the SkyClan she-cat’s gaze fiercely. “I’m fine, okay?” she snapped.
Rootspring wove between them. “Yowling at each other isn’t going to help.” He steered Needleclaw away. “Let’s leave Bristlefrost to take care of Spotfur and finish the hunt.” He nosed her toward the hedge. “There are rabbits in the next field.”
Growling crossly under her breath, Needleclaw let him guide her through the hedge, leaving Spotfur and Bristlefrost alone.
Bristlefrost began to lap at the wounds on Spotfur’s flank, aware that there were unborn kits beneath. Would they be okay? What had made her Clanmate behave so recklessly? She washed Spotfur’s wounds silently until Spotfur flinched, wincing at the pain.
Bristlefrost sat back on her haunches. “It’s not like you to take unnecessary risks,” she mewed softly.
“I was hunting,” Spotfur muttered.
Warriors don’t hunt hawks. “I know you’re brave, but you’re not foolish,” she mewed. “And now that you’re carrying kits, shouldn’t you be more careful, not less?”
Spotfur narrowed her eyes. “And what if I don’t want the kits?”
“Don’t want them?” Bristlefrost flattened her ears. How could that be? Spotfur had loved their father more than any cat. “But they’re Stemleaf’s,” she mewed.
“He’s not here, is he?” Spotfur snapped. “We were supposed to raise kits together, safe in Thunderclan. But we can’t do that now!” Her gaze hardened. “Stemleaf is dead and Thunderclan doesn’t feel safe anymore.”
Bristlefrost’s heart ached with pity. She could understand why Spotfur felt so frightened. Their Clan did feel different. But that didn’t mean they could give up. “Things will get better, I promise,” she told her gently. But she didn’t know if that was a promise she could keep.
Spotfur’s eyes brimmed suddenly with sadness. “What if the kits only remind me of the life I should have had with Stemleaf?”
Bristlefrost leaned closer, resting her cheek snugly against Spotfur’s. “Try to focus on the life you will have, not the one you should have had,” she said. “The kits are lucky to have had a father as brave as Stemleaf, who was willing to die to save his Clan.” She pulled away and stared into Spotfur’s glistening eyes as she went on. “Everything will be okay. The kits will mean that you’ll always have a connection to Stemleaf. He can watch over them from StarClan.”
“StarClan is gone!” Spotfur blinked at her.
“We’re going to get them back.” Bristlefrost held Spotfur’s gaze. “In the meantime, your Clan will help you raise your kits, and I promise I will do anything to protect them. They won’t go hungry or face any danger until they’re old enough to take care of themselves. We’ll keep them safe.” As she spoke, fear trickled through her fur. Could she make any of this happen?
The scent of rabbit touched her nose, and she turned as Needleclaw and Rootspring ducked through the hedge.
Rootspring held a fat rabbit between his jaws. He dropped it beside Bristlefrost. “How is she?” He glanced at Spotfur, who had lowered onto her belly and was gazing at the ground.
“She’ll be all right,” Bristlefrost murmured. As she spoke, paw steps sounded beyond the hedge. An unfamiliar scent bathed her muzzle, and as her pelt bristled in alarm, a large yellow she-cat pushed her way through the hedge, her fur spiking as she slid between the branches.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “What are you doing so close to our camp?” she demanded.
Bristlefrost pressed closer to Spotfur, unsheathing her claws. No loner was going to hurt her Clanmate.
But Rootspring had lifted his tail, his eyes widening with delight. “You’re one of the Sisters!” Bristlefrost blinked in surprise as he hurried to meet the yellow she-cat. “We’ve been looking for you! Leaf told us you’d be nearby!”
The she-cat backed away hesitantly, then nodded. “I’m Sunrise,” she said simply. “You saw Leaf?” She was huge, her fur so thick Bristlefrost wondered how she managed to groom it all. As Bristlefrost stared at her, Needleclaw nodded.
“Yes, and he’s alive and well,” she replied. Then she turned to Bristlefrost and Spotfur, her eyes lighting up as she gave a happy mrrow. “We’ve done it. . . . We’ve found the Sisters!”
Chapter 11
Miserably, Shadowsight followed the hunting patrol into camp. He knew he should lift his tail and try to look as pleased as his Clanmates, but the two mice dangling between his jaws weren’t his catch. Lightleap had caught them and asked him to carry them home because she was carrying a plump squirrel she’d chased down near the ditches.
Every cat in the patrol had caught something except him, and shame shimmered through his fur with each paw step. The others had been sympathetic. Slatefur had pointed out that it was only his second hunting trip, and Blazefire had told him that he’d found it hard at first too, adjusting to warrior techniques when he’d moved to the forest from the Twoleg city. But Shadowsight couldn’t push away the feeling that he was no use to his Clanmates now that he couldn’t heal them.
He crossed the clearing, following Lightleap and Blazefire to the fresh-kill pile. Slatefur and Scorchfur were already laying their catch beside the other prey. His heart ached as he passed the medicine den. How long before Tigerstar allowed him to be a medicine cat again? What if he was stuck like this forever, neither a healer nor a warrior?
He tried to be hopeful. SkyClan and Thunderclan were looking for the Sisters for help locating Bramblestar’s ghost. But what if the Sisters couldn’t help? The dread lurking in Shadowsight’s belly moved again, his thoughts spiraling. Taking him to the moor was a dumb idea. I killed him and the Clans will never forgive me. I’ll never be a medicine cat again. Feeling light-headed, he dropped the mice on the fresh-kill pile and turned away.
“You did better today.” Lightleap blocked his path, blinking at him encouragingly.
“That’s not true.” Shadowsight looked at his paws.
“You’re the one who scented the rabbit,” Lightleap told him. “That was definitely better than last time.”
Shadowsight met her gaze, grateful for her kindness. But it sounded more like
pity, which made him feel worse. “Thanks, Lightleap.” He dipped his head and walked across the camp. At least there was one cat he could still be of use to.
He padded to the bramble enclosure and nodded at Whitewing and Cherryfall, who were guarding it. The two Thunderclan cats exchanged glances.
Cherryfall flicked her tail toward the hollow tree. “He’s sleeping.”
“He’s been sleeping all day,” Whitewing added.
Were they angry that the dark warrior could sleep so peacefully in his den? Their eyes gave nothing away, but their pelts prickled uneasily. Perhaps they still found it strange to see their leader held prisoner, knowing another cat lived inside him.
“He didn’t even wake when Whorlpelt brought him food.” Cherryfall nodded toward the mouse still lying outside the hollow tree.
Shadowsight tensed. Was Ashfur okay? Feeling responsible, he hurried across the bramble enclosure and peered into the shadowy den. Ashfur was curled inside, his flanks moving as he breathed. But his breath was shallow, and the dark warrior’s body was as still as stone. Shadowsight reached a paw in and touched Ashfur’s shoulder, relieved to find no heat pulsing from his pelt. He wasn’t sick. He usually wakes when I arrive. Shadowsight’s ears twitched nervously. Is he dreaming? He remembered the deep sleep he’d brought on himself by eating deathberries. It had allowed his spirit to travel to the Dark Forest. Can Ashfur do that?
He shook the thought away. Stop worrying, he told himself. He’s just resting.
Ashfur must have heard him. The dark warrior’s ear twitched, and for a moment he looked like Tigerstar. Shadowsight’s heart lurched. What if Ashfur had stolen Tigerstar’s life instead? He swallowed. I’m glad he didn’t. Ashfur might have tricked him into killing his own father.
Ashfur lifted his head and blinked. “Hi.” His eyes brightened, as though he was pleased that Shadowsight was here.
Unnerved, Shadowsight backed away. He’d rather Ashfur see him as an enemy than a friend. He forced his pelt to stay flat as Ashfur slid from the hollow tree.
“You’re late,” Ashfur mewed. “I’ve missed you.”
