“How are you?” Jayfeather sniffed her, relieved to find that her ears were cooler.
“Sleepy. How’s Firestar?” Briarlight blinked.
“Asleep in his den,” Jayfeather told her. “Sandstorm’s watching over him. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
“If only Russetfur hadn’t attacked him.” Briarlight had heard all the gossip from the other warriors. “Then Firestar would be fine, and Lionblaze wouldn’t have killed Russetfur.”
Jayfeather tensed. “Russetfur was too old to be fighting!”
The brambles swished, and Jayfeather breathed the familiar scent of Lionblaze. The warrior padded heavily into the den. “I should have realized that before I attacked her.”
“What else could you do? She was killing Firestar.” Jayfeather shook out his fur and crossed the den to greet his brother. “Is Dovepaw okay?”
“She’s fine,” Lionblaze reassured him. “Still quiet. But fine.”
Dovepaw had returned from the battle shivering and speechless with shock. Jayfeather had offered her thyme, but she’d refused, saying she was just tired. Unlike her Clanmates, who were keen to share every battle move, Dovepaw had sat silently while Jayfeather checked her over, only mentioning when prompted that Lionblaze had saved her from Dawnpelt.
Is it fair to make apprentices fight alongside warriors? Worry for Dovepaw tightened Jayfeather’s belly. Sometimes she seemed so young. At least Ivypaw was okay. She seemed rather pleased with herself, actually. And with only a bruised tail to show for her run-in with ShadowClan’s fiercest warriors.
But she hadn’t mentioned her dream again. The dream she’d blurted out to Firestar where ShadowClan had invaded ThunderClan territory and set the forest streams running with blood. In fact, when Jayfeather had slipped into Ivypaw’s thoughts, it had vanished from her mind. How could she forget a nightmare so vivid that it had sparked the battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan?
Jayfeather turned his blind blue gaze on Lionblaze. “Was it worth it?”
“The battle?” Lionblaze stiffened. “Of course!”
“But to lose two lives over a worthless piece of grass!”
“We’ve sent ShadowClan a message they won’t forget.”
“At what cost?” Jayfeather sighed.
“We must not turn soft now.” Lionblaze’s voice dropped to a whisper as Briarlight’s attention pricked across the den. “Who knows where the next blow might fall?”
Jayfeather’s shoulders sagged as Briarlight began coughing again.
Lionblaze nosed him toward his patient. “We can’t afford to ignore any signs now,” he hissed. “Go on, see to Briarlight. We’ll talk later.”
As his brother swished out of the cave, Jayfeather began massaging Briarlight’s flank with his paws. Her coughing subsided, and she laid her chin on the side of her nest, her breath quickly easing into sleep.
“Is she okay?” Leafpool’s hushed mew sounded at the den entrance. She padded over to Briarlight’s nest.
“A little cooler.” Jayfeather could hear Leafpool scraping cobwebs from her paws. He could tell by the scent that she’d been repatching Cloudtail’s gashes. “How’s Brackenfur’s shoulder?” He was worried that wrenching it back into place might have damaged more than it fixed. “Did you get a chance to look at it?”
“Y-yes.” She hesitated. “What do you think?”
Jayfeather’s belly knotted. In the past, her question would have been a test. Now Leafpool sounded like she really wasn’t sure. Why mumble like a nervous apprentice? It was as though she was frightened of putting a paw wrong. His mind drifted back to when she used to boss him around in this very den. He’d answer back, and she’d snap in return. The air would fizz and crackle as he rebelled against her overcautious fussing.
The memory hurt. He’d known Leafpool in those days; he’d been able to predict her every objection. Since he had found out that she was his mother, he felt as if he didn’t know her at all.
Ignoring her question, he dismissed her. “Will you check on Firestar, please?” He lifted a paw to wash.
Leafpool’s whiskers brushed his toes as she dipped her head. “Of course.”
Stop acting like a mouse! Jayfeather thought indignantly, while he tugged a sprig of thyme from between his claws. The brambles swished, and Leafpool’s pads scuffed away across the clearing.
Jayfeather paused from washing and listened to his Clanmates settling down for the night. Poppyfrost was washing Molekit and Cherrykit inside the nursery. Purdy’s rumbling mew droned in the elders’ nest. Brackenfur was snoring just as Sorreltail had predicted. Blossomfall was fixing her nest in the warriors’ den underneath the fallen beech; perhaps she was trying to make it the way it was before the tree had crashed into the hollow.
Jayfeather shuddered as he remembered the day it had fallen. Its roots had been loosened by rainfall, and the great tree had slid from the top of the cliff and smashed down into the camp, crushing the elders’ den and demolishing the thornbush where the warriors used to sleep. Longtail had died. Briarlight had been crippled, her back broken so that she could no longer feel her hind legs. It was only Dovepaw’s powerful hearing that had prevented more cats from being killed or maimed.
For half a moon the Clan had worked to rebuild their home, clearing twigs, leaves, and branches as much as they could. They had rebuilt the elders’ den by weaving the old honeysuckle tendrils around a frame of splintered wood. The beech still spanned the camp, its trunk like a spine, its boughs a rib cage jabbing into the clearing, its roots gripping the bramble nursery like claws. Every night was filled with the sound of leaves and twigs being tugged and adjusted as the warriors worked on their nests in their new den beneath the strongest bough of the fallen tree.
Jayfeather was still finding it hard to navigate the camp, tripping on unexpected branches or piles of twigs that had been brushed to one side but not yet cleared. Longtail, the blind elder, would have struggled even more to adjust. Perhaps he was lucky to be with StarClan, luckier than Briarlight. She had a chest infection now because she couldn’t run and hunt like her Clanmates. She could only drag herself to and from the clearing, her hindquarters dead as fresh-kill.
Jayfeather shook himself. Fretting wouldn’t help. He rinsed his paws in the pool, shuddering at the chilliness of the water, then padded to the bracken pile beside Briarlight’s nest.
As Jayfeather curled into the smooth stems and closed his eyes, Ivypaw’s dream pricked his thoughts. Why had StarClan set this battle in motion? He couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that StarClan would never share dreams with Ivypaw. Why choose her and not one of the Three?
I’ll talk to Lionblaze about it in the morning. Tired to the tip of his tail, he let his mind drift into sleep.
The stench of decay made him shudder. Blinking open his eyes, he found himself in the Dark Forest. Shadows pressed like dark pelts around him. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. What was he doing here? Was Tigerstar planning to recruit him?
No. Tigerstar was no fool.
He tasted the air. A familiar scent bathed his tongue. Stiffening, Jayfeather peered through the gloom.
“Hello!” A cheerful mew sounded in a clearing ahead.
Ivypaw?
A gruff mew answered her. “Sorry if I scared you today.”
Who is she talking to?
“You didn’t scare me at all.” Ivypaw didn’t sound frightened or even surprised to be in the Dark Forest. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re one of the Clanmates, aren’t you?”