“She’s wonderful!” Brackenfur purred, nudging the tiny kit toward her mother.
Sorreltail turned her head to look and licked feebly at the small body, only to break off a moment later as her belly convulsed again and the second kit—another tiny she-cat—was born.
Dovewing couldn’t share Brackenfur and Ferncloud’s delight. Both the kits were very small, and looked weak; they were hardly moving, and Sorreltail was too exhausted to give them the vigorous licking they needed.
Jayfeather was examining Sorreltail, carefully patting her belly with one forepaw. “You’re done,” he announced. “Let’s get you and the kits back to camp.”
Brackenfur nudged Sorreltail to her paws and let her lean on his shoulder. Brambleclaw came to support her on her other side.
“What about my kits?” she whimpered, her eyes wide with distress.
“They’ll be fine,” Ferncloud promised. “Dovewing and I will bring them.”
She picked up one kit, and Dovewing took the other. As she lifted the tiny cat from the ground, the kit let out a feeble squeak, then hung as limp as a piece of fresh-kill. The weight was less than a sparrow in Dovewing’s mouth.
Thornclaw took the lead, still keeping watch for foxes, while Sorreltail staggered along between the two toms. Leafpool hovered at her side, and Jayfeather brought up the rear with Dustpelt.
The sky was growing pale with dawn by the time they reached the camp. The Clan was beginning to stir: Brightheart was near the entrance to the tunnel, talking to Cloudtail, and she followed Sorreltail and the others across to the nursery.
“Everything’s ready for you,” she told Sorreltail.
As Brackenfur and Brambleclaw supported the queen into the nursery, Daisy got up from a nest of thick moss and bracken. “Here,” she mewed to Sorreltail, touching noses with her. “I’ve made the nest warm for you. Lie down and rest.”
“Thanks, Daisy.” Sorreltail’s voice was an exhausted murmur.
Once Sorreltail was settled, Dovewing and Ferncloud set the two kits down in the curve of her belly. Ferncloud and Daisy began to lick them with strong, rhythmic tongue-strokes, until they started to wriggle and let out tiny squeals of hunger. They huddled close to their mother and began to suck.
Dovewing let out a faint sigh of relief. Maybe they’ll be okay. “I’m worn out after all that!” she told Jayfeather. “You should get some rest, too.”
Jayfeather shook his head. “I need to stay here and keep an eye on Sorreltail and the kits.”
“No, you don’t.” Brightheart padded up to his side. “I’ll stay. I know enough to tell if I should wake you.”
Jayfeather hesitated for a moment, then dipped his head. “Okay. Thanks, Brightheart.”
Dovewing followed Jayfeather out of the nursery and headed back to her own den. Ivypool was still curled up asleep beside Molepaw and Cherrypaw. Suddenly feeling as if her legs wouldn’t support her anymore, Dovewing flopped into her nest and closed her eyes.
At first she thought that she was stumbling through a tangled forest, where ivy and bramble tendrils reached out to trip her paws. All around her she could hear the shrieks of cats and kits in agony, but she couldn’t find them or do anything to help them. Then she broke out of the trees and found herself on a bare hillside. Two tiny kits were squirming on a flat rock in front of her. But as Dovewing started to head toward them a shadow fell across the rock. An eagle swooped out of the sky and caught up the kits, one in each talon. They squirmed helplessly as they were carried into the sky.
“No!” Dovewing screeched. She leaped into the air, her claws stretching for the murderous bird. But it was far out of reach; she crashed to the ground again in a tumble of feathers. Her eyes flew open and she saw that she was in her own nest, with Ivypool bending anxiously over her.
“Are you okay?” her sister mewed. “You were thrashing around. You must have had a really bad dream.”
Raising her head, Dovewing saw that the moss and bracken from her nest was shredded and scattered all over the floor. She was still shaking from the horror of her dream, and her heart was beating fast.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Thanks, Ivypool.” She needed to get outside and clear her head.
Clambering out of her den, she ran lightly across the camp. By now the sun was above the trees at the top of the hollow and Brambleclaw stood in the middle of the clearing, organizing the patrols. Dovewing dodged around them and stuck her head inside the nursery. In the dim light she could see that Sorreltail was asleep, her kits enclosed in the warm curve of her belly. Their fur was dry and fluffy now, and they were feeding eagerly.
Brightheart was still on watch, while Ferncloud and Daisy were drowsily sharing tongues. Daisy looked up as Dovewing looked in through the entrance.
“They’re all fine,” she purred. “And it’s thanks to you, for realizing that Sorreltail was in trouble. You must have really sharp hearing!”
“Er… yeah.” Dovewing backed away, not wanting to discuss how she had managed to hear Sorreltail from so far away.
“You’re a hero!” Bumblestripe spoke behind Dovewing, making her jump. “You saved Sorreltail’s life, and the kits!” he added as she whipped around to face him.
“Any cat would have done the same,” Dovewing replied, embarrassed.
“I wouldn’t.” Bumblestripe’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “I’d sleep through falling off a cliff!” The amusement faded from his eyes, to be replaced by a glow of admiration. “I’m really proud of you,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re my Clanmate.”
Feeling warm beneath her pelt, Dovewing took a step forward and touched her nose to his. “I’m glad you’re my Clanmate, too.”
“I’m convinced Sol is up to something,” Dovewing muttered into Ivypool’s ear.
The littermates were heading toward the abandoned Twoleg nest, bringing up the rear of a hunting patrol led by Millie. Spiderleg and Birchfall were just ahead of them; Ivypool slackened her pace until the rest of the patrol was out of earshot.
“What makes you think that?” she prompted.
Dovewing stopped walking for a moment and concentrated hard. “I can hear him talking, somewhere on the far side of the hollow,” she replied.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Hey, are you on this hunting patrol or not?” Millie’s voice floated back to them. The rest of the patrol had disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Coming!” Ivypool called back. “You go and check out what he’s up to,” she added to Dovewing in a whisper. “I’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks.” With a swift nod to her sister, Dovewing turned and slid noiselessly into the ferns. She headed for the opposite side of the camp, close to the place on the cliff where a determined cat could climb out. As she drew closer to the sound of Sol’s voice, she flattened herself to the ground, setting her paws down as carefully as if she were stalking a mouse.
The noise grew clearer as she approached, and Dovewing realized that several cats were there, talking to Sol. A strong ThunderClan scent was coming from the other side of a bramble thicket. Cautiously Dovewing raised her head so that she could peer through the stalks of long grass.
Sol was still out of sight, screened by the brambles, but Dovewing’s eyes stretched wide with dismay as she recognized Blossomfall, Hazeltail, Mousewhisker, and Rosepetal. Were she and Ivypool the only cats in the Clan who didn’t want to hang on Sol’s words?
“You’re right, Sol,” Rosepetal was meowing as Dovewing crept up. “We can’t just sit here and wait for WindClan to attack us.”
Dovewing bit back a shocked yowl. Her claws slid out and dug into the ground. Why are they discussing an attack from WindClan?