Sunset

by Erin Hunter

  Once they had disappeared, Firestar began to organise the patrols. Squirrelflight turned to Brambleclaw and the two cats headed back towards the warriors’ den, their flanks brushing.

  Leafpool’s ears pricked. She had thought her sister and Brambleclaw weren’t close any more. She looked around for Ashfur and saw that he was watching too; she was shaken by the look of fury in his eyes.

  Sudden fear for her sister swept through Leafpool like an icy wave. She recalled the dream where she had found herself wandering in a dark, unfamiliar forest with no sign of StarClan. There she had hidden on the edge of a clearing, watching while Tigerstar trained his sons Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost and urged them to seek power within their Clans. Brambleclaw had a fearful inheritance, and Leafpool was not sure he was strong enough to resist his father’s treacherous promptings.

  Should she tell Squirrelflight about the dream? She took a step towards her sister, then stopped. She had enough to do already, caring for the injured cats, and it was no part of a medicine cat’s duties to interfere in the friendships of other cats. Besides, that had not been a dream from StarClan, so she couldn’t be sure what it meant, or whether it was a warning about the future.

  She padded across to Ashfur. “I need to check your wounds,” she meowed. “Especially that torn ear.”

  Ashfur’s eyes glittered with anger, still staring after Squirrelflight. “OK.”

  He stood without flinching while Leafpool sniffed the wounds on his flank and foreleg, and gave his ear a careful examination. “They’re healing well,” she told him. “I’ll give you some poppy seed to help you sleep, if you like.”

  Ashfur shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” With a last glance across the clearing, he padded over to join Dustpelt and Spiderleg, who were rebuilding the thorn barrier.

  As Leafpool turned towards her den, she spotted Bright -heart trotting rapidly across the stone hollow with her daughter, Whitepaw, just behind her.

  “Leafpool, do you want me to gather herbs?” she offered. “Brambleclaw said I could take Whitepaw to help me.”

  “That would be great,” Leafpool replied.

  She gave the apprentice a friendly nod. Whitepaw was looking nervous. She probably imagines the forest is crawling with badgers, Leafpool guessed. I don’t blame her.

  “We need marigold more than anything,” she went on to Brightheart. “You’ll find plenty beside the stream.”

  Brightheart nodded. “I know a good place. Thank StarClan it’s newleaf.”

  Leafpool felt a sudden flood of gratitude towards her Clanmate. She winced with guilt when she remembered how she had been convinced that Brightheart was trying to take her place with Cinderpelt. “It’s a good thing Cinderpelt taught you so well,” she meowed. “I really need your help now.”

  Brightheart’s good eye glowed with pleasure. “Let’s go, then. Come on, Whitepaw.” With a flick of her tail she bounded away to the camp entrance, the apprentice scurrying behind her.

  Leafpool padded back to her den. Birchpaw, roused from sleep as she brushed past the screen of brambles, struggled to stand up, then flopped back into his nest of bracken.

  “Don’t try to get up yet,” Leafpool warned. “I want to take a look at your eye.”

  She was more worried about Birchpaw than any of the other cats. He was very young to have fought in such a fierce attack; he didn’t have the strength of a full-grown cat to help him recover from serious wounds.

  The scratch around Birchpaw’s eye was red and puffy, only a faint gleam escaping past the swollen flesh. He was very lucky not to have lost the eye, Leafpool thought privately, shuddering as she pictured a badger’s blunt claws ripping at the apprentice’s face.

  Slipping inside her den where her supplies were kept, Leafpool found the last two leaves of marigold. Thank StarClan Brightheart was fetching more. Leafpool took the leaves outside and chewed them up, but when she tried to lay the pulp on Birchpaw’s eye, he ducked away.

  “It stings,” he complained.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But it’ll hurt worse if the scratches get infected. Come on.” Leafpool tried to encourage him. “You’re not a kit any more.”

  Birchpaw nodded; his whole body stiffened as he braced himself. Leafpool patted on more of the marigold pulp, and this time breathed a sigh of relief to see the healing juices trickle into his eye.

  “Try to get some more sleep,” she suggested once she had checked the wounds on his haunches. “Do you need poppy seed?”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” meowed Birchpaw, curling up again. “Will you tell Ashfur that I won’t be able to train today?”

  “Sure,” Leafpool replied.

  She waited until Birchpaw was asleep again, then set off for the nursery with more borage for Sorreltail. On her way she spotted Stormfur and Brook returning to the camp with jaws full of fresh-kill and realised how hungry she was. She could hardly remember the last time she had eaten: it must have been before her desperate dash back from the hills with Crowfeather to warn her Clan.

  She made her way over to Stormfur and Brook. A small fresh-kill pile was already there, showing how hard the visitors had been working that morning.

  “Hi,” Brook meowed. “I was going to bring some fresh-kill to your den.”

  “No need, thanks, I’ll eat here,” Leafpool replied, after setting down the borage. “If you’re sure there’s enough. Have Sorreltail and the elders had some?”

  “I’m seeing to them now,” Stormfur mewed. “You take what you want, Leafpool. There’s plenty of prey, and Sandstorm and Cloudtail are out hunting as well.” He grabbed a couple of mice and headed for the nursery.

  Brook took more fresh-kill for the elders, while Leafpool chose a vole for herself. As she crouched to eat it, Spiderleg and Ashfur came over.

  Spiderleg shot Leafpool a swift glance, dipping his head awkwardly. “It’s good to have you back,” he muttered.

  Leafpool felt as embarrassed as he looked. She didn’t want to talk to any cat about why she had left the Clan. “It’s good to be back,” she told him. It was a relief to turn to Ashfur and give him Birchpaw’s message. “It’ll be a few days yet before he’s fit to start training again,” she finished.

  Ashfur nodded. “I’ll come and see him later,” he promised.

  Leafpool ate her vole in a few rapid bites, then headed for the nursery to visit Sorreltail. The sun had cleared the trees at the top of the hollow, shining down from a blue sky dotted with a few white puffs of cloud. Leafpool was grateful for the warmth on her fur. The injured cats would be able to bask in the open while their nests were cleaned out.

  The damaged brambles had been dragged out of the nursery the night before, leaving a few ragged holes where the sun shone in. Daisy’s three kits were playing around her, pouncing on the bright spots of light.

  “Take that, you horrible badger!” Berrykit squealed.

  “Get out of our camp!” Hazelkit growled, while Mousekit spat and showed his teeth.

  “That’s enough.” Daisy swept her tail around the three kits, drawing them closer to her. “If you want to play rough games, you must go outside. You’re disturbing Sorreltail. Remember how tiny her kits are.”

  “Yeah, we’re not the youngest any more,” Berrykit boasted. “We’ll be apprentices soon.”

  Daisy didn’t reply, but Leafpool thought she saw uncertainty in the horseplace cat’s eyes.

  Berrykit’s head popped up from behind Daisy’s protective tail. “Hi, Leafpool!” he meowed. “Where have you been? We missed you. Is your friend from WindClan going to stay with us?”

  “Shhh,” Daisy mewed, giving Berrykit’s ear a flick with her tail-tip. “Don’t bother Leafpool now. Can’t you see she’s busy?”

  Leafpool dipped her head gratefully to Daisy, her mouthful of borage giving her the perfect excuse not to answer. She slid further into the nursery to find Sorreltail.

  The young tortoiseshell was curled up in a deep nest of moss and bracken, her four kits burrow
ing close to her belly. Brackenfur was beside her while the two cats finished off the fresh-kill Stormfur had brought them.

  “Hi, Leafpool.” Sorreltail blinked drowsily. “Is that more borage?”

  “That’s right.” Leafpool put the leaves down where her friend could reach them. “You need to make sure you have plenty of milk, with four kits to feed.”

  “They’re worse than famished foxes,” Brackenfur purred, beaming proudly at his offspring. Leafpool was glad to see he was calmer now, beginning to recover from the shock of the attack, so that he could care for his mate and kits.

  “They’re fine, healthy kits,” meowed Leafpool. “Just what the Clan needs.”

  As she watched Sorreltail chew up the borage, she remembered the adventures the two of them had shared in the old forest, when she was still an apprentice and Sorreltail was a carefree young warrior. They could never be as close as that again. Now Sorreltail was a mother, while Leafpool was ThunderClan’s medicine cat. When she left with Crow -feather, she had briefly glimpsed what it would be like to turn her back on her duties—but her heart had brought her back to her Clan.

  Leafpool felt distance yawning between her and Crowfeather like a mountain gorge. Pain twisted inside her, but she pushed it away. She had chosen the life of a medicine cat; there was no going back.

  “Try getting some sleep now,” she mewed to Sorreltail. “Brackenfur, make sure she rests.”

  Brackenfur gave Sorreltail’s ears an affectionate lick. “I will.”

  Leafpool turned away and blundered out into the bright sunlight, where she stood blinking. She had given up Crowfeather, her mentor was dead, and her best friend had a mate and kits to care for. Even her sister, Squirrelflight, who had once shared everything with Leafpool, was together with Brambleclaw again. Leafpool wanted her sister to be happy, but she missed being closer to her than any other cat.

  Oh, StarClan! she murmured. I have given up everything for you. I hope this is what you wanted.

  For the rest of the day she buried herself in her duties. Brightheart and Whitepaw worked tirelessly to collect supplies, and by the time the sun went down the stocks of herbs and berries had been replenished, and Leafpool had treated the wounds of every cat in the Clan. As they withdrew to their dens for the rest they badly needed, she looked around the clearing and saw that the terrible scars of the attack were beginning to fade. Dustpelt and his helpers had piled up thorns for a new entrance barrier that was already half completed, while Sandstorm and the other hunters had brought in plenty of prey to build up the fresh-kill pile.

  Leafpool was exhausted, but she knew she would be unable to sleep. Instead of going back to her den, she padded across the clearing and out past the partly rebuilt barrier of thorns. Unbidden, her paws carried her towards the lake, until she reached the open ground at the edge of the trees and could gaze out over the starlit water.

  Memories flooded back of the nights she had sneaked out of camp to meet Crowfeather. Then her paws had felt as light as air; she had raced through the bracken to their meeting place.

  Now everything was changed. Grief and loss weighed her down like stone. She settled into a drift of dry leaves, letting her gaze rest on the starry surface of the lake.

  Not many heartbeats passed before she saw that the stars in the water were moving. At first she thought it was just wind ruffling the surface, but all around her the air was still. Her pelt prickled. Above her the stars of Silverpelt blazed down as they had always done, cold, white, and unmoving; but in the lake, some patches of water were dark and empty, while the reflected stars swam sparkling across the surface until they were clustered together in two slender paths.

  Leafpool gasped. The stars had become two sets of paw prints, twining together across the indigo water.

  Was this a message from StarClan? Was she dreaming? A movement at the far end of the starry paw prints caught her eye, and she peered across the lake. Two cats had appeared, walking away from her with more stars spooling out after them. At first they were indistinct, shadowy shapes; Leafpool strained to make them out, expecting to see warriors from StarClan. Then as the shapes grew clearer she saw that one was a dark tabby with broad shoulders, while the other was smaller, lighter-framed, with dark ginger fur.

  Leafpool’s heart thudded harder. It was Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight. They were padding away from her side by side, so close that their pelts brushed together and their tracks merged into a single glittering path. On and on went their paw prints, sparkling across the dark water. Then the cats faded into the shadows, and the reflected stars spilled across the surface of the lake until they matched the stars in the sky once more.

  Leafpool shivered. StarClan knew she had been anxious about Brambleclaw, that her trust in him had been shaken by her sinister dream of Tigerstar. They must have sent this sign to let her know that his destiny was so closely intertwined with Squirrelflight’s, no cat could separate their paths.

  Surely this meant StarClan approved of Squirrelflight’s choice for her mate? If that was the case, Leafpool had no need to worry about her dark vision of Tigerstar training his sons. She didn’t have to warn Squirrelflight about her relationship with Brambleclaw. Their future rested in the paws of StarClan.

  Comfort crept over her like a warm breeze, and she curled up among the rustling leaves and drifted out on a wave of sleep.

  Her eyes blinked open what felt like moments later. She still lay in the hollow; shadows of leaves danced over her as the branches of the beech tree moved in a gentle breeze. A sweet scent drifted around her, and she lifted her head to see Spottedleaf sitting on a root a tail-length away.

  “Spottedleaf!” she exclaimed, knowing that she was dreaming. Suddenly she remembered the last time she had spoken to the beautiful tortoiseshell and she sprang to her paws, trembling with anger. “You lied to me! You told me to leave ThunderClan and go away with Crowfeather. Cinder pelt died because I left my Clan!”

  “Peace, dear one.” Spottedleaf jumped lightly down from the tree root and came over to brush her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “I told you to follow your heart—and your heart lies with your Clan. So you have followed your heart after all.”

  Leafpool gazed at her, bewildered. Crowfeather had said exactly the same thing before he left her to go back to WindClan. “Then why didn’t you tell me that’s what you meant?” she protested.

  “Would you have listened?” Spottedleaf’s gaze was full of pained love. “You needed to make the choice to go with Crowfeather. It was the only way you could find out that it was the wrong path for you to follow.”

  Leafpool knew she was right. She hadn’t understood how committed she was to her Clan until she had tried to leave. “But Cinderpelt died!” she repeated miserably.

  “Cinderpelt knew what was going to happen,” Spottedleaf meowed. “She knew there was no way to escape it. Not even StarClan can turn aside the paws of fate. That’s why she didn’t try to stop you from going. Do you think things would have been different if you had stayed?”

  “I know they would,” Leafpool insisted. “I would never have left her if I’d known!”

  “That is a weight you will carry for a long while, but I promise you could not have done anything to change what happened to Cinderpelt.” Spottedleaf pressed close against Leafpool’s side. Her comforting warmth was still not enough to ease Leafpool’s pain.

  “Since she died, I haven’t seen her in my dreams,” Leafpool whispered. “I haven’t felt her presence, smelled her scent, or heard her voice. She must be angry with me, or she would come to me.”

  “No, Leafpool. Cinderpelt loved you; do you think she would abandon you, even in death? Her paws walk another path for now.”

  Fresh anxiety surged up inside Leafpool. She had thought she understood the links between a medicine cat and the spirits of her warrior ancestors. What was this “other path”? Did Spottedleaf mean that Cinderpelt was wandering in the dark forest where Leafpool had seen Tigerstar?

  �
�What do you mean?” she demanded, her neck fur bristling. “Where is she?”

  “That I cannot tell you. But she is well, I promise you, and you will see her again, sooner than you think.”

  Spottedleaf ’s voice faded away. The warmth against Leafpool’s side melted into the breeze, and the StarClan cat’s tortoiseshell fur blended into the dapples of light and shadow until Leafpool couldn’t see her any more. Only her scent remained a heartbeat longer.

  Leafpool opened her eyes to see the peaceful lake water still dappled with the reflections of countless stars. Fresh grief for Cinderpelt swept over her. Why did she have to die? Why hadn’t she come to Leafpool in her dreams like Spottedleaf? Leafpool wanted to cry like an abandoned kit.

  Instead, she rose and stretched. “Wherever you are, Cinderpelt,” she mewed out loud, “if you can hear me, I promise that I will never leave our Clan again. I am their medicine cat now, and I will follow in your paw steps until it’s my turn to walk with StarClan.” Hesitating, she added, “But please, if I ever meant anything to you, come to me when you can and tell me you forgive me.”

  Chapter 4

  A cold breeze ruffling his fur woke Brambleclaw. Stretching his jaws in an enormous yawn, he looked up. A patch of pale sky was visible through a ragged hole where once thorn branches had sheltered the warriors’ den. Dawn was breaking; it was time to get to work. Brambleclaw felt more hopeful after a good night’s sleep, undisturbed by dreams.

  Around him the other cats were beginning to wake. Cloudtail got up, wincing as he put weight on the paw that had lost a claw. “Badgers!” he snorted. “If I never see another, it’ll be too soon.” He brushed between two branches, out into the clearing.

  Brambleclaw had gone to sleep with Squirrelflight curled up by his side, her sweet scent in his nostrils. But now she was gone, leaving only a flattened patch of moss. His pelt prickled when he saw that Ashfur was gone too. He sprang up, making his wounded shoulder protest with a shriek of pain, but before he could follow them into the clearing he heard Squirrelflight and Ashfur just outside; he stood without moving, screened by a branch, to listen.