Shrewfoot sighed as he finished. “It feels better already.”
“Rest it for a day, then exercise it gently,” Flametail advised.
Shrewfoot nodded and slid out through the bramble tunnel. Flametail turned to tell Littlecloud he was leaving, but the ShadowClan medicine cat was already asleep. Flametail’s paws felt heavy, and he fought back an urge to curl up in his nest. There were wounds to check.
Nosing his way out of the den, he squinted at the light that bounced around the wide, flat clearing in the forest of pines. Several of his Clanmates were sprawled at the edge, soaking up the meager warmth from the leaf-bare sun. Snowbird rolled and stretched. Her white belly was laced with crimson wounds that made Flametail wince, even though he knew they were all clean now and soaked with marigold juice. Beside her, Scorchfur rested his nose on his paws, ignoring the half-eaten thrush lying by his muzzle. Redwillow lay at the entrance to the warriors’ den, clumps of mottled brown fur sticking out on his pelt. He twisted to give his flank a lick, but flinched and lay back again, panting. Olivenose and Owlclaw stretched side by side, pelts ruffled, muzzles scratched.
The bramble wall shuddered as Tigerheart bounded through the entrance. A squirrel dangled from his jaws, and he tossed it toward the fresh-kill pile. Dawnpelt raced in after him, a pigeon in her jaws.
Flametail hurried toward his littermates, sniffing for blood. “I hope you haven’t opened any wounds.”
“We’ve been careful.” Dawnpelt ducked down to show him that the gash between her shoulder blades was still sealed with sticky cobwebs, no sign of fresh blood.
Tawnypelt squeezed out of the warriors’ den. The tortoiseshell’s green eyes lit up as she saw her three kits together, and she greeted each with a lick on the cheek.
Dawnpelt shook her off. “Yuck! We’re too old for that!”
Tawnypelt purred and gazed around the clearing. “Where’s your father?”
“With Blackstar.” Flametail wove around his littermates. “I guess he’ll be there a lot now that he’s deputy.”
Tigerheart flexed his claws. “I can’t wait till he’s leader.”
“Hush!” Dawnpelt nudged him.
Tigerheart shrugged. “Well, it’s true. Blackstar can’t live forever.”
Tawnypelt brushed her tail across her son’s mouth. “Don’t say such things!”
“At least we always know what Tigerheart is thinking.” Flametail flicked his tail at his brother’s shoulder.
Tigerheart stuck his nose in the air. “I bet you don’t know what I’m thinking now.”
Dawnpelt’s whiskers twitched. “No, but I bet it won’t be long before you blurt it out.”
Tigerheart dropped into an attack crouch, eyes twinkling.
Dawnpelt pretended to look scared. “Help!” she squeaked, darting behind her mother.
“Stop it, you two,” Tawnypelt chided. “The Clan is still mourning Russetfur.”
On the far side of the clearing, Flametail saw that Rowanclaw had emerged from Blackstar’s den and was heading toward his family. Tigerheart and Dawnpelt were too busy chasing each other around Tawnypelt to notice his approach.
Tigerheart rolled Dawnpelt to the ground. “One day I’ll be deputy, and then you won’t be allowed to tease me.”
“No, you won’t!” Dawnpelt struggled from his grip. “I’ll be deputy!”
Rowanclaw halted beside his wrestling kits. “Do I have rivals already?” he inquired.
Tigerheart and Dawnpelt leaped to their paws.
“We were just playing,” Dawnpelt mewed quickly.
“I’m glad to have such ambitious kits,” Rowanclaw purred. “But I’d like to be deputy for a moon or two before you take over.” He glanced at Flametail. “Do you want to be deputy, too?”
“I’m happy to be a medicine cat,” Flametail replied.
Rowanclaw’s eyes glowed. “That’s a relief. I don’t think I could take on all three of you.”
Tawnypelt rubbed her muzzle along Rowanclaw’s cheek. “I’m very proud of you all.” Her gaze wandered to Blackstar’s den.
The ShadowClan leader had appeared in the entrance. His eyes were shining; his pelt was sleek and freshly groomed. “Warriors and apprentices!” Blackstar called as he stepped into the clearing. “You have had time enough to recover your strength! Gather around! There are lessons to be learned from yesterday’s defeat.
“You fought hard,” Blackstar continued. “But we lost territory. If we are ever to regain it, we must learn from our mistakes. This defeat is a chance for us to grow stronger.”
Give me a chance to heal everyone before you start planning the next battle. Flametail tasted the air. He could smell sourness. The wounds he and Littlecloud had dressed last night were going to need new poultices before infection set in. He glimpsed Ivytail wriggling out of the nursery. Her belly was beginning to swell with her first litter. It would be a while before she was fighting battles again. Perhaps she could help him.
“Ivytail!” He approached the long-furred queen and whispered to her while Blackstar continued his speech. “Will you help me re-dress some wounds?”
Ivytail blinked. “Of course.”
In the medicine den, Littlecloud slept as Ivytail and Flame-tail gathered herbs and slipped back out into the clearing.
Ratscar was pacing back and forth, his brown pelt gleaming in flashes of sunlight falling through the trees. “How in the name of StarClan can we fight cats who swoop from trees like owls?” he demanded.
Flametail dropped a bundle of herbs beside Olivenose. “Your wounds need fresh herbs.” Flametail sniffed at the scratches on her flank. “Listen to Ratscar while I fix them.” He beckoned Ivytail closer. “Watch what I do.” He began to lick the dried ointment from the scratches on Olivenose’s flank. Olivenose dug her claws into the ground and concentrated on the debate.
Smokefoot had stepped forward. “Perhaps we can turn what they think is a strength into a weakness?”
Blackstar nodded, eyes like slits. “How?”
“They land heavily,” Smokefoot ventured. “It takes a moment for them to regain their balance. We can use that hesitation to make the first move.”
Applefur tipped her mottled brown head to one side. “Next time we’ll be prepared for their owl tactics. All we have to do is look up. It should be easy to get out of the way while they jump.”
Crowfrost’s eyes grew round with excitement. “It takes time to climb trees and jump. ThunderClan warriors seem to have forgotten that they’re cats, not birds.”
Snowbird nodded. “While they’re wasting time and energy climbing, we can be preparing to pounce on them when they land.”
Dawnpelt joined in. “It’ll be easy to defeat them now that we know what they’re doing!” She glanced up at a hazel branch stretching over the camp. “Let’s practice!”
Tigerheart was already running toward the trunk of the hazel, which was lodged among dense brambles at the edge of the clearing. He scrambled up it and picked his way carefully along the branch. Dawnpelt watched him, shifting her weight from paw to paw, her tail snaking over the ground.
Tigerheart dropped.
Dawnpelt leaped on him as he hit the ground. She rolled him over easily and flattened him against the cold earth.
Blackstar’s eyes brightened. “ThunderClan cats think they’re clever, but they’re pigeon-brained,” he growled.
Owlclaw padded forward. “We weren’t just weak in the forest fighting,” he reminded his leader. “In the clearing, they split our line in two.”
“Perhaps we should arrange our line differently?” Rowanclaw suggested. “Older, more experienced warriors must fight beside younger, less skillful cats. Then, even if they break our line into pieces, each part will be strong.”