Squirrelflight's Hope, Page 3

  “And what if StarClan doesn’t send a message?” Leafstar’s gaze darkened. “They’ve been silent since the storm.”

  Mistystar whisked her tail. “That’s probably because there’s nothing to worry about. They’d warn us if we were doing something wrong.”

  Bramblestar growled softly. “So we can move a Clan off their land as long as our ancestors don’t complain.” His pelt twitched. “Is that how the warrior code works now?”

  “Our complaints matter too,” Tigerstar told him. “The warrior code tells us to respect the living as well as the dead.”

  Harestar tipped his head thoughtfully. “Let’s at least think about Squirrelflight’s suggestion,” he meowed.

  Mistystar nodded. “We don’t need to make a decision until everyone is happy. Perhaps if SkyClan has a chance to get used to the idea.” She glanced hopefully at Leafstar.

  The SkyClan leader frowned. “Come on, Hawkwing. We’re wasting our breath here.”

  “No, you’re not—” Squirrelflight began. But Leafstar and Hawkwing were already heading away.

  “I hope they’ll come around.” Tigerstar looked uncertainly at the other leaders.

  “It would solve all our problems,” Harestar agreed.

  “Leafstar is a sensible cat.” Mistystar glanced after the SkyClan leader.

  Bramblestar grunted. “Let’s go.” He beckoned to Squirrelflight with a sharp flick of his tail.

  Mistystar dipped her head as he marched away. “It was a good plan, Squirrelflight.”

  “Thanks.” Squirrelflight turned to follow him.

  At the edge of the clearing, she darted in front of Bramblestar. As he stopped, she blinked at him eagerly. She had kept the leaders from fighting. But her heart lurched as she met his gaze. He was glaring at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she mewed.

  “I don’t think SkyClan should move,” he growled.

  “I know,” Squirrelflight mewed sympathetically. “But something needs to change. Tigerstar’s solution might have been the best one at the time. But the Clans are growing. We all need territory. This plan means that no one has to give up land.”

  “No one except SkyClan,” he muttered darkly.

  Squirrelflight blinked at him. “They’ll have new land. They’re used to moving, and this might be the last move they ever have to make. This land beyond the abandoned Twolegplace might be perfect for them.”

  “Might be.” Bramblestar’s tail twitched angrily. “Or it might be overrun with snakes, or dogs, or foxes. Warriors might die thanks to your idea.”

  Squirrelflight’s heart pounded. Why was Bramblestar so angry? “SkyClan is strong and resourceful. They have survived so much. They can survive this.”

  “Why do they have to survive anything?”

  “Land is being wasted!” Frustration burned beneath Squirrelflight’s pelt, but she kept her voice low, aware that the other leaders were watching them from across the clearing. “Bumblestripe and Plumstone didn’t even want to mark the WindClan border today. I don’t think Eaglewing had ever crossed the stream. And the same thing’s clearly happening in ShadowClan. Who ever heard of a ShadowClan cat getting their paws wet? They’re never going to hunt on that marshland.”

  Bramblestar turned away and began to pad into the long grass. “They’ll get used to it, just like we’ll get used to the moorland beyond the stream.”

  “But we’d all have bigger territories if SkyClan moved.” Squirrelflight hurried after him. “And you heard Harestar and Leafstar. The Clans are growing. There’ll be more kits by newleaf, more mouths to feed, more apprentices to train—”

  “More kits!” Bramblestar lashed his tail. “Is that all you think about now?”

  His words stung like claw marks. She watched him disappear into the grass, her chest tightening. “Don’t you think about it?” She pushed after him, but he was already hurrying ahead. He was on the tree-bridge by the time she caught up to him. She followed him over it and jumped onto the far shore.

  She fell in beside Bramblestar, breathless as she tried to keep up. “Don’t you think about kits, Bramblestar?”

  “I have kits,” he snapped.

  “Alderheart and Sparkpelt? They’re grown up now!”

  “I know!” Bramblestar didn’t look at her. “They’re old enough to look after themselves. Why are you so desperate to be responsible for new lives? Isn’t being deputy enough?”

  “It should be, but it’s not.” Squirrelflight felt panic welling. “I’m getting older with each season. One day I won’t be able to have more kits. I just want another litter before it’s too late.”

  “I know.” Bramblestar sounded weary. “And of course I want kits. Just not as much as you do.”

  Squirrelflight stopped and stared after him. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

  Bramblestar turned, his eyes sparking with exasperation. “Yes! But I am responsible for our Clan. And if the other Clans are planning to start up more trouble with SkyClan, I need to focus on that. I don’t have as much energy as I used to. I’m getting older too.”

  “No, you’re not!” Anger flared in Squirrelflight’s chest. “You have more lives than me—” She broke off as a realization washed over her like ice water. Was that why he didn’t care about kits? He had plenty of time to have kits in the future, maybe even with another mate, when she was dead. The thought made her feel sick. Bramblestar’s next litter might have a mother who wasn’t her. She stared at him, unable to speak.

  His gaze shimmered suddenly as though he saw her pain. “I’m sorry.” He hurried to her side and pressed his muzzle against her cheek. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I was angry. I felt you weren’t on my side at the meeting. I was trying to protect SkyClan.”

  “So was I!” She pulled away indignantly. “I was trying to find a solution that would keep the peace.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But that isn’t the point. You’re my deputy.” His tail twitched. “You’re supposed to back me up in front of the other Clans. We need to look united. You know how quickly Tigerstar smells weakness, and how he exploits it.”

  “It’s not weak to have different opinions.” Squirrelflight’s pelt pricked.

  “It looks a lot like weakness when a deputy disagrees with her leader in public.” Bramblestar shifted his paws. “You should know better! You should have discussed your idea with me in private and we could have taken it to the other Clans together.”

  “It might have been too late by then.” Squirrelflight paused. She didn’t want to argue. And besides, the issue with SkyClan wasn’t what was worrying her now. “I’m sorry I spoke up without talking to you first. But is that really why you said you don’t want to have kits?”

  Bramblestar gazed at her, his eyes round. “I’m sorry if I made it sound that way. I do want to have kits with you.”

  “Really?” Her heart lifted.

  “Yes. If that’s what you want.”

  Squirrelflight stared at him. There was resignation in his eyes. Grief twisted her belly as he stared back at her blankly. She turned away. I want you to want it too.

  They followed the trail back to camp in silence. When they arrived, Larksong was guarding the entrance. His eyes flashed in the darkness as he saw them. “How was the meeting?” The black tom hurried forward. “What did Harestar want?”

  “It was the usual argument,” Bramblestar meowed heavily as he ducked through the thorn tunnel. Squirrelflight let Larksong slip in front of her and followed them into camp. Birchfall and Lionblaze were waiting in the moonlit clearing as Bramblestar had predicted. As the three warriors clustered around Bramblestar, Squirrelflight hesitated.

  They hardly seemed to notice she was there. She felt barely there herself. The argument with Bramblestar buzzed in her head. He might have kits with another cat when I’m dead. She’d never really considered before that he would likely outlive her—by several lifetimes. Her heart sank as she understood suddenly, for the first time, that she would never beco
me ThunderClan’s leader. The kithood dreams she’d shared with Leafpool would come to nothing. Bramblestar would outlive her, and she’d only ever be the leader’s mate. Sadness swamped her. What would she leave behind when she died? Would another cat replace her as soon as she was gone?

  Quietly, she padded toward the warriors’ den. She’d sleep in her old nest tonight. Her heart ached too much to lie beside Bramblestar now.

  CHAPTER 2

  “It’s going to need repairing before leaf-bare.” Brackenfur looked up.

  Squirrelflight followed the old warrior’s gaze and saw holes in the roof of the elders’ den. Sunshine streamed through them, dazzling her. She looked away. “I’ll organize a patrol to fix it,” she promised.

  Graystripe stuck his head through the entrance. “Are you going to patch up that roof?”

  “Of course,” Squirrelflight told him.

  “She’s going to patch it up!” Graystripe called over his shoulder to Millie, who was lying outside in the sunshine.

  “She’s going to what?” croaked Millie. The old she-cat was growing increasingly deaf.

  “Patch it up!” Graystripe yowled.

  “Who with?” Millie sounded confused. “Has she been quarreling again?”

  Alarm flashed in Squirrelflight’s chest. Did the Clan know about her spat with Bramblestar? They must have noticed she hadn’t slept in his den last night.

  “The roof!” Rolling his eyes, Graystripe headed outside.

  Squirrelflight shifted her paws self-consciously. She was deputy as well as Bramblestar’s mate. She couldn’t appear at odds with the leader. Bramblestar had been right when he’d said that they must show a united front, and not just to the other Clans. Their own Clan should feel their relationship was strong. A quarrel between a leader and deputy could send ripples through the whole Clan.

  Brackenfur twitched his tail. It jerked her from her thoughts. “When will the work start?” He was still staring at the roof.

  “I’ll ask Dewnose and Thriftpaw to start work on it as soon as they get back from training.”

  “Thanks.” Brackenfur padded to his nest and settled into it. “It’s been good to let sunshine into the den, but we can smell leaf-fall coming, and Cloudtail worries about Brightheart getting cold.”

  “We’ll pad all the walls,” Squirrelflight promised. “It’ll be as warm as a mouse nest in here.”

  She ducked outside, nodding to Millie and Graystripe as she passed them, and glanced around the camp. Bramblestar was sunning himself on the Highledge with Thornclaw. She didn’t look at him, afraid to catch his eye. She’d avoided him since she’d woken at dawn. Her grief had eased with sleep, and common sense had returned on waking. Of course Bramblestar loved her, and if he wanted kits less than she did, at least he’d been honest with her. She knew she’d overreacted. Why should he want exactly the same things that she did? And yet she still wasn’t ready to speak to him. She’d assigned herself to the dawn patrol and then gone hunting.

  But she couldn’t stay out of camp all day, and it was sunhigh now. There were no more chores until dusk patrol. Hesitating at the edge of the clearing, she looked for something to keep her busy. Hollytuft and Flippaw were back from training, nosing eagerly through the fresh-kill pile. Jayfeather and Alderheart were heading out of camp, Jayfeather leading the way as usual despite his blindness. Outside the nursery, Daisy was chatting to Lilyheart and Rosepetal, while Rosepetal’s apprentice, Bristlepaw, nosed about in the ferns at the edge of the camp, clearly looking for mice. Squirrelflight wondered if it was time Daisy moved to the elders’ den. It must be lonely in the nursery. But she was such a help to expectant queens. What if a warrior announced she was having kits? No one should have to sleep in the nursery alone. A pang of grief jabbed Squirrelflight’s heart. I should be there by now. Her thoughts quickened. How could she have kits now that she knew that Bramblestar didn’t want them? He does want kits! she corrected herself. Just not as much as I do.

  But it hadn’t been just the kits he’d been upset about. She’d contradicted him in front of the others. But they were close to fighting! Squirrelflight flicked her tail indignantly. And I have a right to my own opinion. Her plan for SkyClan could be the perfect solution. She couldn’t have held her tongue even if she’d wanted to. Bramblestar had implied that a good deputy would have kept quiet. She shook out her pelt. Was that what Bramblestar thought—that she wasn’t a good deputy? Hurt sharpened its claws on her heart once again. She closed her eyes. Chasing thoughts like this wasn’t going to help her feel better.

  “Bristlepaw! Flippaw! Look what I caught!” Thriftpaw’s mew surprised Squirrelflight, and at his littermate’s call, Flippaw looked up from the mouse he was eating. Bristlepaw stuck her head out of the ferns, her eyes wide.

  The dark gray she-cat was standing at the camp entrance, Dewnose beside her and a small rabbit at her paws.

  Bristlepaw dashed from the ferns and skidded to a halt beside her sister. “It’s almost as big as you!” She sniffed excitedly at the rabbit as Flippaw hurried over.

  “Did you catch it by yourself?” Flippaw looked impressed.

  Thriftpaw glanced at her paws. “Not exactly by myself.”

  Dewnose purred beside her. “Thriftpaw tracked it and caught it. I just helped with the killing bite.”

  “Can we eat it now?” Thriftpaw asked.

  “Put it on the fresh-kill pile and take something smaller,” Dewnose told her. “We can share the rabbit later with the elders.”

  Thriftpaw glanced toward the heap of prey at the edge of the clearing. The long body of a weasel lay on top. Her eyes widened. “Is that a weasel?”

  Flippaw nodded. “Mousewhisker caught it this morning.”

  “But weasels are vicious,” Thriftpaw mewed, her eyes widening.

  “That one was,” Flippaw told her. “Mousewhisker’s in the medicine-cat den right now covered in bites.”

  Squirrelflight pricked her ears. Mousewhisker must have returned while she was in the elders’ den. “Is he badly hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” Flippaw told her.

  Squirrelflight headed toward the medicine-cat den.

  “Imagine being wounded by prey,” Bristlepaw murmured.

  “Imagine being killed by prey!” Thriftpaw mewed.

  “Put your rabbit on the fresh-kill pile,” Dewnose told her again. “When you’ve had something to eat, we’re going to practice battle moves.”

  Squirrelflight glanced back at the gray-and-white tom. “Can you take a look at the elders’ den when you’re finished? The roof needs mending.”

  “Sure.” Dewnose swished his tail as Squirrelflight ducked through the brambles that trailed over the entrance to the medicine-cat den. Inside, cool shadows swathed the wide stretch of earth. Herb scents filled the air. Her littermate, Leafpool, glanced up warmly as Squirrelflight entered. “Well, hello.”

  Mousewhisker sat stiffly in the middle of the den. Leafpool returned to lapping ointment into his wounds.

  “Are you badly hurt?” Squirrelflight crossed the den and stopped beside them. “I see Leafpool is taking good care of you.”

  “She is. And it’s just a few bites,” Mousewhisker told her.

  “There are a couple of deep ones,” Leafpool reported. “But I’ve cleaned them and put plenty of herbs on them. They should heal quickly.” She looked earnestly at the gray-and-white tom. “But if you get any fever or the pain keeps you awake tonight, come straight to me.”

  Mousewhisker nodded.

  “Where did you catch the weasel?” Squirrelflight was curious. Weasels were rare in this part of the forest.

  “Near the beeches,” Mousewhisker told her.

  Squirrelflight realized she’d been wondering if he’d caught it on ThunderClan’s strip of moorland. “Not the moor?”

  Mousewhisker looked at her, puzzled. “Why would I be hunting on the moor? That’s WindClan territory.”

  “The stretch beyond the stream is ThunderClan territory now,”
she reminded him, twitching her tail in irritation.

  “Oh, yes.” He sounded surprised. “I keep forgetting. It feels so unnatural to hunt in the open.”

  Squirrelflight stifled a sigh. Harestar had been right about the wasted land. “We all need to learn,” Squirrelflight prompted.

  “Of course.” Mousewhisker peered distractedly at a bite mark on his shoulder. “I just hope hunting in the wind doesn’t make us as stunted as WindClan warriors.”

  Leafpool used her paw to fold the leaf she’d mixed the ointment on. “WindClan warriors are only smaller than us because their ancestors were smaller, not because of the wind.”

  Mousewhisker sniffed. “So what made their ancestors small?”

  Leafpool shrugged. “Only StarClan knows.”

  “It was probably the wind.”

  Squirrelflight caught her sister’s eye and swallowed back a purr. Was Leafpool going to argue with that kind of logic?

  “Go and rest in the sunshine,” Leafpool told Mousewhisker, changing the subject. “It’ll dry out your wounds.”

  “Thanks, Leafpool.” Mousewhisker dipped his head and headed for the entrance.

  “Wait,” Squirrelflight called after him. Mousewhisker turned to her questioningly. “Have you patrolled the edge of ThunderClan territory lately, beyond the abandoned Twolegplace?”

  Mousewhisker frowned. “I was up that way a quarter moon ago with Larksong and Cherryfall.”

  “Do you know what the land’s like beyond the border?” Her fur pricked along her spine. Bramblestar wouldn’t be happy if he knew she was asking these questions. “Are there any strays living there, or foxes?”

  “Occasionally there are unfamiliar scents on the border. But if there are strays or foxes up there, they’re smart enough to know not to cross into our territory.”

  “Thanks, Mousewhisker.” Squirrelflight nodded at him, and the gray-and-white tom pushed his way out of the den.

  “What was that about?” Leafpool was staring at her.

  Squirrelflight sat down and curled her tail over her paws, relieved to have a moment alone with her sister. “Last night’s meeting with Harestar was tense.”