Landing lightly just in front of the open Twoleg door, Thunderstar wrinkled his nose in disgust at the scents that surrounded him: the strange smell of Twolegs, the rank smell of the dogs. And over everything, the reek of Thunderpaths. It must come from the dead monsters, he thought, and it was so strong here that the dogs carried the scent with them wherever they went.
He could hear the Twolegs moving about inside their den. Bracing himself, Thunderstar opened his mouth and let out the loudest yowl he could. He had to get their attention.
There was a crash as something fell inside the Twoleg place, then a startled voice. Almost at the same time, there was a chorus of angry barks. Still yowling, Thunderstar took off, running away from the dogs, around the Twoleg den.
Please let the Twolegs come out to see what’s happening. Please let them care what the dogs do.
He could hear Twoleg footsteps and excited voices. They must be coming out. But he could hear the snarling dogs much closer, their paw steps getting louder. Thunderstar whipped around another corner of the Twoleg dwelling and leaped up onto a dead monster.
It was hard and surprisingly hot under his paws. What if it’s not dead? But no, it was completely still beneath him; the body must simply have soaked up the warmth of the sun.
Paws scrabbled against one end of the dead monster as the largest dog tried to haul himself up onto it. Thunderstar risked a glance over his shoulder. The Twolegs were running around the corner, not far away. Now was his chance. Thunderstar leaped from the back of the monster and shot toward the hole in the fence.
It was wide enough for him to pass through easily, but as he sped through it, something scratched his shoulder. One of the brambles Lightning Tail and I put there, he realized with another pang of sorrow. He kept running, expecting at every moment to feel fangs ripping through his pelt.
But as he streaked up the hill, he realized that he couldn’t hear the dogs behind him. And he was only a few tail-lengths from the safety of the trees now. He was going to make it. With a long leap, he dug his claws into the trunk of a tall ash tree and scrambled up to the highest branch that would support his weight.
His heart was pounding in his chest and he was gasping for breath, but he was safe for now. Climbing farther out onto the branch, he looked back at the Twolegplace.
The dogs had not chased him through the hole. Instead, the Twolegs were each holding on to two dogs’ collars as they spoke, pointing at the hole. After a while, one of the Twolegs spoke sternly to the dogs until they were all sitting; then he went into the Twoleg den and came back out with a new length of silver strands. With many harsh noises, he began to fit it across the hole.
It worked, Thunderstar thought, dizzy with relief. The Twolegs hadn’t known the dogs were getting out through the hole in the fence, and now that Thunderstar had shown them, they were fixing the hole.
If this had happened yesterday, he would have been happy about it, but right now he could only feel surprise at his success and a sort of grim satisfaction. He had done what he and Lightning Tail had set out to do. Thunder Clan would be safe.
Jumping down from the tree, Thunderstar padded back toward where his friend was waiting for him.
Nothing had disturbed the place where Lightning Tail lay. Thunderstar brushed the long grass away from his friend’s body and looked down at him.
“It’s done,” he said softly. “We protected our Clan.”
There was a spot near the roots of an oak tree where sun shone through the branches and warmed the ground. Lightning Tail had always liked to bask in the sun. Thunderstar began to dig.
His paws ached and the earth was heavy. Digging was much harder alone than it had been when he and Lightning Tail dug the rogue’s grave together. But Lightning Tail deserved to be laid in the earth the right way. The thought gave Thunderstar new strength, and the strain of his muscles was almost comforting: He was doing this for Lightning Tail.
As he dug, he thought about Violet Dawn and his kits again. Lightning Tail had believed Thunderstar would be a good father. But how could he look after tiny, helpless kits properly when he hadn’t managed to protect his best friend, a powerful warrior?
He would have to try to trust in himself, and trust in Violet Dawn. Maybe Lightning Tail would watch over the kits from StarClan. Lightning Tail had always loved kits.
Finally, the hole was deep enough, and Thunderstar gently pushed Lightning Tail’s body into the grave.
When it was covered again, he laid some grass across it so that the earth wouldn’t look too freshly disturbed—and no predator would dig to find what was buried below.
It was very quiet here. Thunderstar bowed his head and spoke. “I’ll miss you so much, Lightning Tail. You were brave and clever and loyal, and you always helped any cat who needed you. You died saving me, and there’s no way I can thank you properly for that.” Thunderstar took a deep breath, his mouth dry. “Good-bye, Lightning Tail. I’ll never forget you.”
The shadows were lengthening again. It was time to go back to camp, time to tell ThunderClan that their deputy would not be returning. Thunderstar turned away from his friend’s grave and began the long walk home.
Chapter Eight
It was dark by the time Thunderstar, sore-pawed and exhausted, reached the ThunderClan camp. He slipped through the gorse tunnel, nodding at Leaf, who was standing guard, but said nothing. The camp was quiet, the cats asleep.
Violet Dawn was sleeping, too, in the mossy nest they shared in their den. In just the two days that he’d been gone, she seemed to have grown even more round. He lay down beside her and felt a kit squirm inside her belly, tiny paws kicking at him through her side. Warmth spread through him at this proof that the kits were alive and growing.
In a moment, though, his joy dimmed. How could he be happy so soon after Lightning Tail’s death? In the morning, he would have to tell the Clan what had happened. His chest felt tight at the thought. No matter how gently he tried to tell them, they would suffer. Every cat in the Clan had loved Lightning Tail. And would they blame Thunderstar? He had been given nine lives so he could protect his Clan, but instead, Lightning Tail had died protecting him.
Thunderstar rolled over onto his back, gazing up at the rock at the top of his den. He was so tired, but his mind was spinning. He shifted again, accidentally bumping Violet Dawn’s side.
“Hmm?” she murmured softly, and her eyes blinked open. “Thunderstar,” she mewed sleepily. “I missed you.”
He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “I missed you, too. How are you feeling?” Her voice sounded weak, he thought.
Violet Dawn shrugged. “I’m okay. The kits have been really lively at night, so I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“You aren’t sleeping?” Thunderstar asked, alarmed.
Violet Dawn purred. “Don’t worry so much,” she told him. “Cloud Spots says I’m fine, and it’s completely normal for the kits to be keeping me up this close to when they’ll be born. Milkweed says the same thing, and she’s had kits three times. The only problem was that I was feeling too tired to lead the Clan while you were gone. But Owl Eyes has been doing great,” she added quickly. “He’s kept everything running smoothly and even sent out extra hunting patrols to take advantage of the good weather.” She gave a little huff of amusement. “If Lightning Tail doesn’t watch out, Owl Eyes will be deputy before he knows it.”