The camp seemed to shift, and suddenly Leafpaw was standing beside her. They were apprentices again.
Leafpaw purred. “I can call you Squirrelface if you like.”
Squirrelflight blinked at her. “You haven’t called me Squirrelface in moons.” Her heart ached with longing.
“Come on.” Leafpaw padded across the clearing toward Cinderpelt and Dustpelt. “Let’s tell them to hurry up.”
This wasn’t what had happened. “We waited for them to finish talking.” Squirrelflight hurried after her. Were Leafpaw’s memories different from hers?
“Hurry up!” Leafpaw whisked her tail as she reached Cinderpelt. “I’ve got so much to learn. We have to hurry. I won’t be around forever.”
As Cinderpelt turned, the forest blurred and then flashed into focus once more. She was in the lake camp now, and Brambleclaw was glaring at her. “Couldn’t you have told me the truth?”
She remembered his words. They were seared into her heart. He was talking about the lie she and Leafpool had told about Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf. She’d told him they were his kits. He’d been so angry. “It was never my secret to tell,” she breathed. “Leafpool had so much to lose.”
“She lost everything anyway!” Brambleclaw snarled.
“No I didn’t.” Relief washed Squirrelflight’s pelt as she heard Leafpool’s mew. Her sister was facing Brambleclaw, pride rippling through her fur. “I watched my kits grow into fine warriors, and I still serve my Clan with all my heart.”
And suddenly they were older, lying in the warmth of the setting sun.
“You said you were going to be Clan leader.” Leafpool swished her tail over the ground. “We were going to rule the whole forest and be the most powerful cats who ever lived.”
Squirrelflight purred as the memory warmed her. “We were very young.” She gazed across the clearing to where Lionblaze and Jayfeather were sharing a rabbit with Sparkpelt and Alderheart. Bramblestar was scrambling down the rock tumble toward them.
Leafpool got to her paws. “Take care of them.” She blinked lovingly at Squirrelflight and padded away.
As Leafpool faded into shadow, Squirrelflight closed her eyes. She felt solid earth beneath her and bracken sticking into her pelt. She was home. Good-bye, Leafpool. Her sister had had been her best friend. Without her, ThunderClan would never feel the same. Grief pulled at her heart as she drifted into darkness. I’ll miss you.
CHAPTER 28
“Can you hear me?”
Squirrelflight felt Alderheart’s breath on her muzzle. Like a drowning kit dragging itself from the water, she struggled into consciousness. Her head throbbed. Pain burned in her leg. But it felt easier now, as though the fox had loosened its grip. She opened her eyes.
Alderheart was staring at her, hope glittering in his eyes. He pricked his ears as she met his gaze.
“Hi,” she croaked weakly.
“Jayfeather!” Alderheart called out without taking his gaze from hers. “She’s awake!”
“I’ll fetch Bramblestar.”
Squirrelflight heard the brambles rustle, and light flicked on the roof of the medicine den.
“He’ll be here in a moment,” Alderheart told her gently. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve fallen off a cliff.” Squirrelflight tried to prop herself up on her front paws, but she didn’t have the strength, and they crumpled beneath her. Her belly tightened as she recalled Sandstorm’s words. You may never fully recover. She looked at Alderheart, searching his gaze. “How badly am I hurt?”
He ran his paws quickly over her flank and down each leg. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes.” She grunted as he lifted her hind paw.
“Can you push against me?”
She stretched her leg against his paw, wincing. He lowered it gently and tried the other paws in turn, asking her to push each time.
“Any pain?”
“Only my hind leg,” she told him. “And my head.”
Alderheart nodded. “That’s what we thought, but we couldn’t be sure until you woke up.” He peered into her eyes as though searching for something. “Do you know where you are?”
“In the ThunderClan medicine den.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Of course. How could I forget my own kit?”
He looked relieved. “You’re going to be fine.” He sat back on his haunches. “You’ve wrenched your hind leg, and there was some swelling to your head and body where the rocks hit you. But it’s starting to go down.”
Squirrelflight was hardly listening. Her injuries didn’t matter. She peered over the side of her nest. “Is Leafpool still here?”
Alderheart straightened. “She …” He hesitated, alarm flashing in his eyes. “We—we moved her. I’m afraid—”
“It’s okay.” She wanted to save him the pain of breaking the news. Her mew thickened as she swallowed back grief. “I know she’s dead.”
“How?” He blinked at her in surprise.
“I saw her when I woke up last time. Her eyes …” Her mew trailed away. She didn’t want to remember. Should she tell him that she’d been in StarClan with her sister just a moment ago?
Paw steps sounded outside, and Bramblestar crashed through the brambles at the entrance. “She’s awake?” Fear glittered in his gaze. “Is she okay?”
“She will be.” Alderheart moved aside and Squirrelflight met Bramblestar’s gaze. Her heart leaped as his face softened. He suddenly looked like the young warrior she’d fallen in love with. As he rushed toward her, she stretched out her muzzle, breathing in the warmth and the scent of him as he pressed his cheek against hers. He began to lick her head, as urgent and as gentle as a mother lapping her kit.
She purred. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Don’t be sorry for anything. I was so worried. I love you so much. We should never have let things get so bad. I’ll never let it happen again.”
Squirrelflight tried again to push herself up, finding enough strength this time to hoist herself into an awkward sitting position. She saw Lionblaze hesitating beside Jayfeather at the entrance.
“Hi, Lionblaze.”
He shifted his paws, as though he didn’t know what to say. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He looked relieved, and then his gaze flitted to Leafpool’s empty nest. It darkened.
“I know about Leafpool.” She pushed herself higher. “I know you’ll miss her as much as I will.”
Lionblaze met her gaze. She saw conflict there, as though he wasn’t sure what to feel. How hard it must be not to know which mother was his true mother. One had kitted him and one had raised him. Which one should he love? Surely there was a place in his heart for both of them.
He looked away. “It was a dumb accident,” he growled. “We should have let the Sisters move in their own time. That land wasn’t worth dying for.”
Bramblestar’s tail twitched. “What’s done is done,” he murmured.
Squirrelflight didn’t want to think about it. Of course it was dumb. That was what she’d been telling them all along. But what was the point in saying so now? She glanced past Lionblaze expectantly. “Did Sparkpelt come too?”
Jayfeather crossed the den briskly. “She’s feeding her kits.” He avoided her gaze.
Worry sparked in Squirrelflight’s pelt. “Is she okay?”
“She’s healthy.” Jayfeather leaned into the nest and sniffed her injured leg. “We can make you a splint,” he told her. “To help you get around.”
Squirrelflight didn’t care about splints. “Are the kits well?” she pressed.
Bramblestar purred. “They’re very well,” he told her. “They want to explore outside the nursery already. Poor Daisy is exhausted.”
“And Sparkpelt?” Was she playing with them yet?
“She’s had a hard moon,” Bramblestar mewed. “But she’ll come around, I’m sure. She just needs a little more time. Seeing you get well will cheer her up.”