Squirrelflight’s thoughts raced as darkness enclosed her. What if the pond was bottomless? Would she drown? She glanced back toward the surface, but it was hidden in shadow. She forced herself on. If she could see ThunderClan in these waters, there had to be a way through. The weight of the water crushed her fur. Blood roared in her ears. Panic shrilled in her pelt as her lungs screamed for air. I must go back! She floundered, jerking her muzzle around, looking for escape. In the shadows, she glimpsed an opening. She pushed toward it, but tangled roots blocked the way, and only deeper shadow lay beyond. She spun around, the weight of the water tugging at her limbs. Was there any way out?
Hope flashed in her chest as she spotted a light in the distance. She kicked out, pushing herself toward it, and pressed her mouth tighter shut, fighting the urge to breathe. Sparkpelt! Bramblestar! She had to get back to them. Dizzy with fear, she fought on.
Slowly, as though she were waking from a nightmare, the chill eased and the water loosened its grip. She felt weightless. Her hunger for breath vanished as the water around her seemed to dissolve into air. She pushed faster toward the light glittering ahead, feeling its warmth as it embraced her. The shadows melted away, and she felt earth grow solid beneath her paws.
She looked around. The ThunderClan camp! She was standing in the clearing. Afternoon sunshine washed her pelt as she watched her Clanmates move around her. Berrynose picked a shrew from the fresh-kill pile. Bristlepaw and Thriftpaw dragged old bedding from the elders’ den, while Leafshade pawed fallen leaves into a pile at the edge of the clearing. They worked quietly, and Squirrelflight could sense sadness like rain in the air, ruffling fur and shadowing gazes.
She stood still, expecting at any moment to be seen, but her Clanmates seemed unaware of her presence.
“Do you want the rest?” Stormcloud pushed a half-eaten mouse toward Hollytuft. “I’m not very hungry.”
“Neither am I.” Hollytuft gazed dully at the mouse.
Squirrelflight felt suddenly far away. Loneliness rang like an echo in her chest. She pushed it away and hurried to the nursery.
Inside, Sparkpelt lay in her nest while Daisy played with the kits. Sorrelstripe and her kits were outside.
“Come on, Flamekit.” Daisy ducked down and encouraged the black tom-kit to climb onto her back, where Finchkit was already sitting.
Finchkit puffed out her chest. “I got here first.”
“Only because you pushed me out of the way!” Flamekit flicked his tail indignantly and scrambled up beside her.
Finchkit tried to bat him away as he barged past her. “Hey! I want to go in front.”
“No fighting!” Daisy scolded. “There’s enough room for both of you.”
Squirrelflight glanced at Sparkpelt. Wasn’t she going to tell her kits to behave? Sparkpelt didn’t move, her gaze blank as though she was hardly aware of Daisy or her kits. Squirrelflight hurried across the den and crouched beside her. “Sparkpelt! Your kits need you!” Flamekit and Finchkit had a Clan to take care of them, but they still needed their mother. Didn’t Sparkpelt realize what she was missing? “Don’t give in to grief.” Squirrelflight remembered the closeness she had felt with her kits—it had always made her heart sing. “Sparkpelt!”
Sparkpelt’s ear twitched, but her gaze didn’t change. She doesn’t even know I’m here! Frustrated, Squirrelflight backed away as Daisy rolled, purring, to the ground, and sent Finchkit and Flamekit tumbling into the soft depths of her nest.
They squealed with delight and scrambled out.
“Do it again!” Finchkit clawed her way back onto Daisy’s shoulders. Flamekit clambered after her.
Sparkpelt didn’t move.
Heart pounding, Squirrelflight ducked out of the den. I have to live. Sparkpelt needs me. She hurried to the medicine den and pushed through the brambles. The small hollow was gloomy despite the sunlight seeping down from the opening above the pool. Alderheart leaned into one of the nests, and as Squirrelflight padded closer, she could see him press his ear to the flank of the she-cat inside. Unease wormed through her pelt as she saw her body, unmoving. Leafpool lay beside her, and Jayfeather crouched with his chin resting on the edge of the nest. His blind blue gaze seemed empty of hope. If only he knew that Leafpool was probably chasing Cinderpelt across meadows in StarClan now, energy pulsing through her paws.
“Is there any herb we haven’t tried?” Alderheart blinked at Jayfeather expectantly.
Jayfeather stared ahead. “We’ve tried everything. We can only hope now.”
Squirrelflight wondered if prayers were any use. StarClan seemed as helpless to change destiny as any living cat. Her heart filled with love for Jayfeather and Alderheart. It seemed that they hadn’t moved for days. She’d been a mother to both of them, and her heart broke to see their sadness. She padded to Jayfeather’s side, the memory of StarClan’s judgment still fresh in her thoughts. Why should such a deceitful cat have a place in StarClan? How must it have felt for Jayfeather to discover that she wasn’t his mother? She’d lied to him since birth. Leafpool had too. Was that why he was so sharp with his Clanmates? Had bitterness hollowed out his heart? And yet she knew there was warmth there. His harshness was like snow in leaf-bare, hiding buds that would blossom when greenleaf returned. I have to live! She had so much still to share with him. “I’m sorry we deceived you,” she whispered, wondering if there was any way he might hear. He is a medicine cat, after all. “It was wrong of us. But I hope that one day you will let go of the hurt we caused you.” She swished her tail along his spine, hope sparking in her chest as she saw his pelt smooth a little.
Movement in the shadows at the edge of the den made her stiffen. Bramblestar had been there all along! She could taste his scent, but it was faint, as though he were far away. He padded to the nest where her body lay and sat beside Alderheart. “I wish I’d listened to her.” Bramblestar’s mew was husky with grief. Alderheart glanced at him, his pelt ruffling self-consciously as Bramblestar went on. “I ignored how strongly she felt. I didn’t want to hear about the Sisters. It made things too complicated. It was easier just to think about the Clans. But Squirrelflight could see beyond that. She knew that honor doesn’t mean anything if it can’t reach beyond our borders. Any cat can respect those they know and love. But respecting cats we don’t understand is truly being a warrior.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Alderheart murmured. “You were fighting for your Clan.”
“But Squirrelflight was my deputy,” Bramblestar argued. “And my mate. I should have taken her opinion seriously instead of brushing it aside.” His shoulders drooped. “If she dies, I don’t know if I can carry on being leader. I will be responsible for her death. I am not fit to lead my Clanmates if I don’t listen to them fairly.”
“No!” Squirrelflight darted to his side. “ThunderClan is more important than I am. Who else can lead it like you do?” She stared at him, willing him to hear, her heart aching with love for him, but he stared hopelessly at his paws.
“How did we lose sight of what mattered?” His mew was barely a whisper, but Squirrelflight could hear it as loudly as the wail of a kit. “Now I can feel it as strongly as ever. How did I forget how much I loved her?”
Squirrelflight pressed her muzzle against his. It felt like no more than air. But his scent was stronger now. It filled her mouth, bathed her tongue, flooded her chest. “Our love will always be there,” she breathed urgently. The ache in her heart seemed to draw his scent deeper. “Even when we lose sight of it, our love will still be there.”
Bramblestar slumped as though defeated.