Squirrelflight purred. “I’m sure you will be.” Sparkpelt was lucky to have such a good mate. “I think you’re going to be very happy.” Her heart ached with fondness, and she wondered how she had even considered telling Sparkpelt how much she wanted kits of her own. Let her enjoy this, she told herself. She doesn’t have to deal with your problems. She’ll have enough to occupy her once the kits are born.
Larksong shivered. “I was coming to lie down. I’ve been feeling tired all morning. I don’t know why. I’ve only been on dawn patrol.” He looked puzzled. “I don’t seem to be able to catch my breath.”
“It’s probably the wet weather,” Squirrelflight suggested. She blinked at him playfully. “You’re going to have to get fit before the kits arrive. They’ll keep you on your paws day and night.”
Larksong purred. “Don’t worry about that. I plan to make sure they have everything they need.” He got to his paws. “I can’t wait to give them their first badger ride.” Padding up and down the den, he glanced over his shoulder. “Can you imagine them up there on my back?” He stopped suddenly.
Alarm sparked in Squirrelflight’s fur as Larksong’s gaze froze. Pain glittered in his eyes, as though he’d been swiped across the muzzle with powerful claws.
Sparkpelt must have seen it too. “Larksong?” Fear edged her mew.
Larksong’s eyes grew suddenly dull. They rolled back as his paws buckled and he dropped to the ground.
“Larksong!” Sparkpelt darted to his side, bristling with horror. Squirrelflight pressed beside her, terror hollowing her belly. Larksong wasn’t moving. His flanks were still. He’s not breathing!
“Stay with him,” she told Sparkpelt. “I’ll fetch a medicine cat.”
She pelted from the den, rain spraying her face as she raced for the medicine den and burst inside. “Help!”
Alderheart looked up sharply from the herbs he was mixing. “What is it?”
“Larksong! He’s collapsed in the nursery.” Squirrelflight fought back panic as Alderheart pelted past her, out of the den. She hurried after him.
Bramblestar looked up from his squirrel. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Larksong! He’s sick!” Squirrelflight pushed her way into the nursery after Alderheart. Fear-scent flooded the den.
Alderheart pressed his ear to Larksong’s chest.
Sparkpelt stared at him, her pelt spiked. “Is he okay?” Her mew came as a sob.
“His heart is beating.” Alderheart sat up. “But we have to get him started breathing again.”
Sparkpelt seemed to freeze. “Will he die?”
Squirrelflight slid in beside her. “Alderheart will do what he can.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Sparkpelt was trembling.
Squirrelflight pressed against her. “Breathe,” she told Sparkpelt. “You don’t want this to affect the kits.”
Bramblestar had pushed his way into the den. He stared, his eyes wide.
Alderheart glanced at him. “Fetch Leafpool. She’s in the elders’ den with Millie. Tell her to come quickly. I need help. Now!”
Bramblestar raced out as the dark ginger medicine cat pressed his paws onto Larksong’s flank and began pumping his chest.
Squirrelflight’s paws seemed to freeze as she watched.
Sparkpelt was stiff beside her, gulping juddering breaths as Alderheart worked on Larksong. “Don’t let him die,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let him die.”
Squirrelflight felt time slow as she watched Alderheart press harder and harder, pumping at Larksong’s chest as though trying to shock him into life. He mustn’t die now. He had to see his kits. He’d been so excited. They mustn’t grow up without a father. Suddenly, Larksong gasped. A spasm seemed to grasp him and shake him into a long, trembling breath. Then he lay still. Squirrelflight heard blood roaring in her ears. “Is he alive?”
Alderheart bent his head to Larksong’s chest.
Even before he sat up, Squirrelflight saw Larksong’s chest moving. “He’s breathing,” she whispered. Relief swamped her. She looked at Sparkpelt. “He’s alive!”
Sparkpelt slumped against her. As Squirrelflight moved, her daughter slid to the ground, staring at Larksong with wide, desperate eyes.
CHAPTER 14
Squirrelflight glanced anxiously at Sparkpelt. Her daughter was calmer now that they’d moved Larksong to the medicine den, but her eyes were still shadowed with fear as she watched over her mate, who lay unconscious in one of the nests at the edge of the small hollow.
Leafpool paced as Alderheart leaned over Larksong, wiping away the dark liquid pooling at the side of the warrior’s mouth. Jayfeather rummaged quickly through the herb store once more.
“Should we give him more yarrow?” Alderheart asked the blind medicine cat.
Jayfeather shook his head. “He’s too weak, and besides, we’re not sure this is caused by something he ate.”
Sparkpelt’s pelt ruffled along her spine. “There must be something you can try.”
Jayfeather tore open a bundle of chervil. “We could see if he can swallow a few of these leaves.”
Leafpool stopped beside Squirrelflight. “Let’s talk outside,” she murmured.
Squirrelflight’s belly tightened as Leafpool guided her toward the entrance. “Is Sparkpelt all right?” As concerned as she was about Larksong, she was more afraid for Sparkpelt’s kits.
“She’s fine and so are the kits.” Leafpool nosed her way through the brambles.
“But she’s so upset.” Squirrelflight followed her through. The drizzle had eased, but raindrops still dripped from the canopy into the clearing.
“I can feel the kits moving,” Leafpool told her. “And Sparkpelt hasn’t had any cramps. I’ve given her thyme to help with the shock. She’s strong and sensible. She’ll be okay.” Her gaze darkened. “I just wish we knew what was wrong with Larksong. His breathing has steadied, but it’s still shallow. And his heartbeat is weak.”
Squirrelflight fought back fear. “Have you seen anything like it before?”
“No.” Leafpool gazed toward the trailing brambles. “Even Jayfeather is baffled. He says he’s never smelled a sickness like this. And we’ve never seen a sickness that stopped a cat breathing so suddenly.”
“Could it be contagious?” Squirrelflight’s heart lurched. Larksong had nuzzled Sparkpelt before he collapsed.
“We don’t know.” Leafpool looked at her helplessly. “He’s bringing up bile, which makes us think that the sickness is in his belly. But that’s all we know.” She looked toward the clearing. Bramblestar sat at the edge with Thornclaw and Finleap. Twigbranch and Birchfall stood nearby. Outside the elders’ den, Millie and Graystripe eyed the medicine den anxiously, while Hollytuft paced beside them. Leafpool called to Hollytuft. “You were on patrol with Larksong this morning. Did you see anything unusual while you were out?” Leafpool called.
Hollytuft twitched her tail. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We caught a squirrel, but we put it on the fresh-kill pile when we got back.”
Leafpool glanced toward the pile. There was nothing left but the few bedraggled mice Graystripe had turned his nose up at earlier. “What did Larksong eat before he got sick?”
Squirrelflight frowned. “He said he’d had two mice before he came to the nursery.”
Bramblestar got to his paws. “Check the prey,” he told Hollytuft. “But be careful.”
As Hollytuft hurried toward the fresh-kill pile, Twigbranch glanced at it nervously. “Do you think it was something he ate?” the young warrior asked.
“The prey might have been rotten,” Finleap suggested.
“But we only caught it this morning,” Thornclaw pointed out. “It was fresh.”
“Perhaps he ate sick prey,” Twigbranch mewed.
Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes. “Surely he would have smelled the sickness before he ate it?”