Dovewing staggered out of the cave and stood at the edge of the clearing, letting the wind cool her scorched pelt. Something was terribly wrong with Jayfeather, that was for sure. Was it simply that the Clan had lost so many cats? Or did he know something about their powers?
“Dovewing?” called a voice from the elder thicket. It was Purdy, peering through rheumy eyes. Now that the nursery had been repaired, Daisy and Brightheart had taken the kits out of the elders’ den. “I think I’ve got a tick on my back, an’ I can’t reach it,” the old tom grumbled.
“Okay, I’ll take a look,” Dovewing mewed. With so few apprentices in the camp, the warriors were sharing duties among themselves. Dovewing knew it was Berrynose’s turn to deal with Purdy but he was out on patrol, and since she was here, she wasn’t going to refuse to help. She followed the tom into the den and waited for him to settle stiffly in his nest.
“Oh, that chill’s got into my bones,” he griped as he folded his legs under him.
“Do you want me to find some feathers for your nest?” Dovewing offered.
Purdy blinked. “Only if you’ve got time. I know you’re all stretched, with so many cats still recoverin’.”
Dovewing ran her paw over his bony spine, searching for the tick. “Most of us are okay now. Only Foxleap is still in danger.” Purdy grunted as she rubbed against the tick. “Found it!” she declared. “I’ll put some mouse bile on that and it’ll be gone in a flash.” She started to leave but Purdy beckoned her back with his chin.
“That can wait a while,” he rasped. “Talk to me first. It’s so empty in here without Mousefur.” He stared at the abandoned nest, cold and dusty but still imprinted with the shape of Mousefur’s body. “I miss her so much, you know,” he murmured. “She was a grouchy old fox at times, but she had the best heart. At least she died protectin’ her Clan. It’s what she would have wanted.”
“It is,” Dovewing agreed.
“So why does everyone still look so miserable?” Purdy snorted, propping himself up on his front legs. “I go outside an’ it’s like we’re still buryin’ our Clanmates. Have they forgot we drove those blighters out? No Dark Forest cats around here, are there?”
Dovewing wasn’t sure what to say. “I… think we’re all aware of what has been lost,” she stammered.
“And what about what we won?” the old cat demanded. “Did Mousefur, did any of ’em, die for nothing? It’s an insult to their memory, that’s what it is, to act like we lost everything.” He slumped back into his nest with a cough. “Sorry, young ’un. I was forgettin’ myself.”
“No, it’s okay, Purdy,” Dovewing mewed. She reached out her paw and smoothed the tom’s untidy black pelt. “You’re right. We did win, and we should honor our fallen Clanmates by knowing they didn’t die in vain. Now, let me fetch that mouse bile for you.”
She stood up and squeezed out of the den. Sharp drops of rain splashed onto her pelt, and she ducked her head as she ran back to Jayfeather’s den. She hoped he wouldn’t mind if she helped herself to some bile. As she neared the opening to the cave, a terrible moaning sound stopped her in her tracks.
“Foxleap, no! Not now! I’ve done everything I could! Oh StarClan, why can’t you let me help these cats?”
Dovewing nearly retched at the raw grief in Jayfeather’s voice. Foxleap must have died—and Jayfeather was left in agony. What about Dustpelt? First his mate, now his son, lost to the Dark Forest. How would he ever recover? Dovewing rocked on her paws as Leafpool brushed past her, shedding leaves from her jaws.
“Jayfeather! What’s wrong?” The she-cat pushed through the brambles and Dovewing heard a wail. “Oh no! Foxleap!”
“StarClan wanted him more than we did,” Jayfeather growled. Leafpool began to murmur comforting words to him and Dovewing turned away, reeling with despair. She almost bumped into Graystripe, who was heading to the fresh-kill pile, his fur blown the wrong way by the wind.
When the big warrior looked down at her in surprise, Dovewing spat, “The Dark Forest is not finished with us. Foxleap is dead!”
Chapter 6
“Hargh! Hargh-argh! Sorry,” Sandstorm spluttered before another bout of coughing racked her body. “Hargh-argh-argh!”
Bumblestripe stirred beside Dovewing. “I feel sorry for her, but none of us are getting any sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck. “Maybe she should see Jayfeather.”
“I’m sure she’s thought of that,” Dovewing muttered back. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and she wished Sandstorm would be quiet too, but she felt nothing but sympathy for the poor she-cat, who had kept them awake for three nights in a row now.
A dark shape brushed past Dovewing’s muzzle. “Have some soaked moss, Sandstorm,” urged Poppyfrost. There was a soft squelching sound as she placed it beside the she-cat’s nest. “That might help.”
“Thanks,” Sandstorm croaked. “I’m so sorry, everyone.” Dovewing listened to her sucking on the moss, then a merciful silence descended on the den and she drifted into sleep.
It seemed as if Dovewing had only closed her eyes for a moment before Squirrelflight was standing over her, prodding her with a paw. “Come on, sleepy hedgehog! I want you to lead the dawn border patrol.”
Dovewing stumbled groggily to her paws and followed the deputy out into the frost-sharp morning. Almost a whole moon had passed since the Great Battle and leaf-bare had fallen over the forest like a pelt of ice. Dovewing shivered as her breath made clouds in the air.
Toadstep joined her, squinting in the early light. “I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep,” he muttered. “I’m going to take Sandstorm to Jayfeather myself if she doesn’t see him today.”
Dovewing didn’t have the energy to argue. After listening to Squirrelflight’s instructions, she led Toadstep, Hazeltail, and Rosepetal out of the newly rebuilt entrance and down to the lakeside border with WindClan. The moor was empty and quiet, draped with mist, and the patrol returned to the camp without spotting any trace of rival warriors. The clearing was full of cats sharing prey, stretching cold limbs, and talking quietly. Sandstorm stood in a corner, her back hunched in another coughing fit.
“Bramblestar!” Berrynose called to the Clan leader. “Can you ask Sandstorm to sleep in the elders’ den tonight? She can’t keep us awake every night, or we’ll never be able to keep up with the patrols.”
Dovewing noticed Purdy’s ears perk up.
Bramblestar looked questioningly at Sandstorm. “What do you think? Would that give you a better chance to recover, if you’re not worried about waking the other warriors? I know we’re planning to build a second warriors’ den to give you all more room, but that won’t be finished for another quarter moon.”
There was a flash of defiance in Sandstorm’s green eyes. “It’s just a touch of whitecough!” she croaked. “Are you saying that I’m only fit to be an elder now? I still have moons in me to serve my Clanmates!”
There was a harsh note of fear beneath her words that gave Dovewing a stab of empathy. I know how she feels. Whatever’s wrong with my senses, it’s making me feel useless as well! She hadn’t made a decent catch for the fresh-kill pile in days, and her ears ached from straining over the boundaries when she was on border patrol. A tiny voice in her mind whispered, What if your powers never come back?, but Dovewing pushed it away. How can I serve my Clan if I’m deaf and blind?
Bramblestar padded over to the ginger she-cat and pressed his muzzle against her shoulder. “No cat is asking you to retire,” he assured her. “I just want you to be as fit as possible for leaf-bare. And if you’re keeping the other cats awake, you need to think about them as well.”