Long Shadows

by Erin Hunter

  Jaypaw opened his eyes on darkness and scrambled out of his nest, shaking himself to dislodge scraps of moss and bracken from his pelt. The chill of early dawn filled the den, together with Leafpool’s fear scent; at the other side he could hear Millie’s harsh breathing and Briarkit mewling pitifully.

  “She’s going to die, isn’t she?” The little kit sounded terrified. “And I’ll never see her again, ’cause I don’t know the way to StarClan.”

  “We’re doing all we can.” Leafpool moved away, and Jaypaw pictured her bending her head to comfort the frightened kit. “And even if she does die, you’ll see her again one day. When she’s in StarClan, she’ll know the right time to come and fetch you.”

  “Are you sure?” Briarkit still sounded uncertain.

  “I promise you,” Leafpool reassured her.

  Jaypaw’s legs started to shake with fear. Leafpool was acting as if she was resigned to watching every one of her Clanmates die. We have to get that catmint now! “I’ll fetch the moss,” he mewed, and whisked out of the den.

  As soon as he had delivered the dripping moss to Millie, he slipped out again and crept through the branches into the warriors’ den. The air was full of the warm scent of sleeping cats; it was so early that hardly any of them were stirring.

  Jaypaw located Lionblaze by his scent, and woke him with a sharp prod in the shoulder.

  “Uhhh…?” Lionblaze’s muscles flexed and he raised his head. “Jaypaw? Is something wrong?”

  Jaypaw bent his head to whisper in his brother’s ear. “I know where there’s a supply of catmint.”

  “Really?” Jaypaw could sense Lionblaze’s excitement. “Where?”

  “In WindClan, near the entrance to a tunnel. You have to go and fetch some.”

  The excitement Jaypaw could feel in Lionblaze changed abruptly to horror and disgust. “No,” he mewed hoarsely. “I’ll never go to WindClan. Never!”

  CHAPTER 13

  Lionblaze felt cool grass brushing his belly fur as he crept forward. The scent of WindClan was in his nostrils. Leaves scraped his pelt and left raindrops on his ears and whiskers, but he was concentrating too hard to flick them away. Every muscle in his body was focused on what he could see in front of him.

  Now! Pushing off with his powerful back legs, Lionblaze leaped. The squirrel fled, but it was too late. Lionblaze’s claws sank into its shoulders and he killed it with a swift bite to the throat.

  As the squirrel went limp, Lionblaze’s vision blurred. A lake of scarlet, sticky blood spread out across the grass and leaves of the forest floor; he could taste the stench of it. The squirrel became a gray-furred she-cat. Lionblaze found himself looking down at Heatherpaw’s dead body; her blood clogged his paws.

  “No…oh, no,” he whispered.

  Ever since Jaypaw had asked him to fetch the catmint from WindClan, two sunrises before, Lionblaze had felt guilty. But he couldn’t do it. He was too scared that his dream would come true, and he would end up killing Heatherpaw.

  He shuddered, staring at the dreadful vision of the dead cat he had once loved. Yet again, he wished that he could be an ordinary warrior, without the powers that terrified him more and more as they grew stronger.

  If only I could tell Jaypaw how I feel… But he couldn’t show weakness to his brother, not when Jaypaw was depending on him to fulfill his part of the prophecy. He only knew that he couldn’t risk going into WindClan territory, especially not through the tunnels. Heatherpaw had betrayed him; Lionblaze desperately wanted to believe her story that it was the kits who had given away the secret of the tunnels, but he couldn’t be sure that was true. Heatherpaw was his enemy now, because he was completely committed to ThunderClan. Why should he trust a cat from another Clan? He would never forgive Heatherpaw, but he still didn’t want her blood on his paws.

  As the vision faded, Lionblaze straightened up with his prey in his jaws. Ashfur was approaching through the bracken from the stream that marked the WindClan border, carrying a couple of voles by their tails. Spiderleg followed him with a mouse.

  “Well done.” Ashfur nodded at Lionblaze, dropping his prey nearby. “Have you seen Sorreltail? We’ve caught as much as we can manage.”

  “Here.” Sorreltail staggered through the undergrowth, dragging a rabbit nearly as big as she was. “Whew!” Dropping her prey, she spat out a clump of fur. “Some other cat can carry that back.”

  As they padded back to the stone hollow, Lionblaze’s worries started to creep back into his mind. So far leaf-fall had been mild and prey was running well, but there weren’t enough warriors fit to hunt. When he had left the camp that morning, Brightheart was coughing, and he had spotted Honeyfern heading toward the medicine cats’ den. How long before so many cats are sick that there aren’t enough of us left to take care of them?

  The fresh-kill pile was ominously low when Lionblaze dropped his prey on it.

  “We’ll go out again right away,” Ashfur announced, “but we should all eat something first, to keep our strength up.”

  “I’m fine,” Sorreltail meowed. “One of the sick cats can have mine.”

  Ashfur padded up to her. “You will eat. What good will you be to your Clan if you get sick too?”

  Sorreltail stared back at him rebelliously for a heartbeat, then dropped her gaze. “Okay. You’re right.” But Lionblaze noticed that she chose the smallest mouse from the pile.

  As he gulped down a vole, he spotted Jaypaw emerging from the warriors’ den. Swallowing the last mouthful, he bounded across to him.

  “How’s Brightheart?” he asked. “I heard her coughing this morning. And Honeyfern was on her way to your den.”

  “Like you care!” Jaypaw snapped at him.

  “I do!” Guilt and indignation battled inside Lionblaze.

  That’s not why I won’t go to WindClan!

  “They both have greencough,” Jaypaw mewed curtly. “Cloudtail, too. I’ve told them not to leave their nests. Now will you go and fetch the catmint?”

  “I can’t.” Lionblaze flinched from the fury in Jaypaw’s eyes. He wished that he could explain to Jaypaw about his dreams; then he would understand why it was impossible for him to go to WindClan. “Why can’t you send another cat instead?” he asked.

  “You know why!” Jaypaw spat, his fur bristling up. “You know what it’s like in the tunnels.”

  “So does Hollyleaf,” Lionblaze argued. “She could go—”

  “Hollyleaf!” Jaypaw interrupted. “You know what she’s like about the warrior code. Do you think she’d agree to trespass on another Clan’s territory and steal their herbs? She’d claw our ears off if we even mentioned it. No, it has to be you. Besides, you’re the best fighter we’ve got, and if you get caught you’ll need your powers to escape.”

  “Then why can’t Leafpool ask Barkface for some catmint?”

  “Stupid furball!” Jaypaw hissed. “Which cats did we just fight? Barkface might give Leafpool catmint, but Onestar would have to know, and if he found out ThunderClan is weak, he’d attack again before you could say ‘mouse.’” Lashing his tail, he added, “It’s useless talking to you. I never thought my own brother would stand by and let his Clan die.” Spinning around, he stalked toward his den.

  Lionblaze watched him go, then padded sadly back to the patrol by the fresh-kill pile. Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight had appeared, and Graystripe bounded up to choose a piece of fresh-kill and head for the medicine cats’ den.

  “Take some for yourself as well,” Squirrelflight called after him, but Graystripe gave no sign that he’d heard her.

  “Okay, Ashfur,” Brambleclaw meowed, “when you take your patrol out again, go along the ShadowClan border. You can combine the border patrol with some hunting. But when you get back, that’s it for today. You need to rest.”

  “Take your own advice, then.” Squirrelflight gave her mate a flick on the shoulder with her tail. “You need to rest, too.”

  “I can’t.” Lionblaze’s heart sank when he saw how bright
Brambleclaw’s eyes were, and heard the rasp in his voice. “I need to fix up more patrols.”

  Sorreltail leaned in to Lionblaze and murmured in his ear, “If your father gets ill…”

  Lionblaze nodded, but didn’t reply. There was no need. With Firestar sick, ThunderClan depended on their deputy to protect them.

  Oh, StarClan, Lionblaze thought, why are you letting this happen?

  Gray clouds covered the sky, but the air was still mild; wind rustled through the trees above the hollow, but down below the cats were sheltered. Lionblaze had just returned from a hunting patrol with Brambleclaw, Hollyleaf, and Cinderheart. Brackenfur and Sorreltail were sprawled near the fresh-kill pile, sharing tongues, while Sandstorm crouched beside them, eating a thrush.

  As Lionblaze and the others dropped their prey on the pile, Leafpool and Jaypaw appeared to choose fresh-kill for themselves.

  “How is Millie?” Sandstorm asked, looking up from her thrush.

  “If she doesn’t get some catmint soon, she’ll die,” Leafpool meowed flatly.

  Jaypaw shot a furious glare at Lionblaze as he snatched a mouse from the pile; Lionblaze felt it like a claw raking across his pelt. Stop blaming me! I can’t go to WindClan!

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flicker of a flame-colored pelt up on the Highledge. Looking up, he saw that Firestar had appeared. Every hair on his pelt tingled with shock. What was the Clan leader doing out of his nest? He looked unsteady on his paws, and when he opened his jaws to speak all that came out was a cough.

  “Firestar!” Sandstorm leaped to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Go back to your nest right now!” Leafpool sprang up and raced for the rocks, closely followed by Sandstorm.

  Firestar stretched out a paw to halt them. “Don’t come any closer,” he rasped. “The sickness spreads too easily. We have to get the sick cats out of the camp to keep the others healthy.”

  “But we can’t do that,” Leafpool objected, halting at the foot of the tumbled rocks. “There’s nowhere for them to go.”

  “Yes, there is,” Firestar told her, his too-bright eyes shining with triumph. “The old Twoleg nest has walls and a roof to shelter us, and there’s a stream nearby where we can drink.”

  “But I can’t be in two places at once,” Leafpool pointed out; she sounded anguished, as if she hated to refuse the hope that Firestar offered.

  “You won’t need to be,” Firestar meowed. “I shall look after the sick cats. You can tell me which herbs to use, and keep me supplied without coming too close.”

  Sandstorm let out a gusty sigh, fluttering her whiskers. “This is ridiculous! You’re putting yourself in danger. You need rest just as much as the other sick cats.”

  Firestar looked down at her, love glowing from his green eyes. “I have lives to lose; my Clanmates do not. I have to do this, for their sake.”

  Murmurs of surprise came from the cats gathered around the fresh-kill pile. Brambleclaw looked up at his leader, then slowly nodded, as if he was making a promise.

  “It might work,” Brackenfur remarked.

  “I think it’s worth a try,” Cinderheart agreed. “If we don’t do something, every cat will get sick.”

  The more Lionblaze thought about Firestar’s suggestion, the more sense he could see in it. The sick cats would have a safe, dry place to stay, and those who were left could look after them better. Leafpool and Jaypaw would have more chance of keeping well. And maybe Jaypaw’s catmint plants at the Twoleg nest would have grown enough to provide some healing leaves.

  “There aren’t enough yet,” Jaypaw growled as if Lionblaze had spoken aloud. “We need more! Half the Clan is sick.”

  Lionblaze felt as if his littermate’s glare was scorching his pelt. Turning away, he padded over to Hollyleaf.

  “Isn’t Firestar great?” she meowed. “I’m so proud he’s our kin. I wonder if I’d have the courage to do what he’s doing.”

  Lionblaze touched his nose to her shoulder. “I’m sure you would.” And what about my courage? he asked himself. I should be brave enough to fetch the catmint. But I can’t do it, I just can’t!

  On the Highledge, Firestar straightened up and lifted his head. “Let all cats—” His attempt to raise his voice ended in a bout of coughing.

  Brambleclaw bounded up to the Highledge and spoke rapidly to his leader. Lionblaze couldn’t hear what they said, and a moment later Firestar staggered back into his den. Brambleclaw looked down at the clearing.

  “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting,” he yowled.

  Foxpaw and Icepaw appeared from the elders’ den, each with a bundle of soiled bedding. Mousefur followed them and stalked across to where Sandstorm and Leafpool stood at the foot of the tumbled rocks.

  Ferncloud and Squirrelflight emerged from the warriors’ den and padded over to the fresh-kill pile. Berrynose and Graystripe pushed their way out after them, and stayed sitting just outside the den.

  Lionblaze’s heart sank to see how few cats answered the summons. So many of the Clan were sick, and the rest of them must be out on patrol.

  Brambleclaw began by explaining to the cats who hadn’t heard Firestar’s plan. “We’ll need to collect a lot of moss and bracken—and dried leaves and feathers, anything to keep the sick cats comfortable and warm,” he continued. “Lionblaze and Hollyleaf, you can do that, and take the apprentices with you.”

  Lionblaze flicked his tail in acknowledgement of his father’s order.

  “Brackenfur, you’re good at mending den walls,” Brambleclaw went on. “Find some warriors to help you, and block the holes in the Twoleg nest so that there aren’t any drafts.”

  “Sure, Brambleclaw,” the ginger warrior replied.

  “And there’ll need to be a new fresh-kill pile. Sandstorm, you’re best at hunting; can I put you in charge of that?”

  Sandstorm gave him a tense nod, her green eyes narrowed as if she was already planning her hunt.

  “Leafpool, you’ll need to transport herbs for Firestar to use. Get another warrior to help you if you have to collect more.”

  “I’ll do that,” Leafpool replied. “And every cat should keep a lookout for catmint. It’s just possible there are a few clumps we’ve overlooked.”

  Lionblaze could tell that the medicine cat didn’t believe what she was saying, but he knew that they couldn’t ignore even the smallest chance of discovering more of the precious herb. And if we did find some, I wouldn’t feel so guilty anymore.

  “Right,” Brambleclaw began. “Then—”

  “What about me?” Squirrelflight interrupted, her green eyes blazing a challenge. “You don’t expect me to sit around in camp doing nothing?”

  “You’re not fit to leave yet,” Leafpool retorted instantly.

  “You’ll leave when our medicine cat says you can,” Brambleclaw told his mate. “But you won’t be doing nothing. As the cats out on patrol come back, you can explain to them what’s happening, and give them jobs to do.”

  Squirrelflight hesitated, as if she was going to argue, then gave a reluctant nod, muttering something under her breath as she scraped her claws in the earth.

  “Okay, the meeting’s over,” Brambleclaw meowed crisply. “Let’s get moving.”

  Lionblaze beckoned the apprentices with a wave of his tail and led the way to the thorn tunnel with Hollyleaf padding at his shoulder. His paws tingled with urgency; even the apprentices didn’t complain at the task.

  “It feels weird.” Hollyleaf was looking worried as they headed deeper into the forest. “The Clan has never been split up like this before.”

  “It’s the best way to save lives,” Lionblaze answered.

  “There’s nothing about this in the warrior code. Except…we all swear to defend our Clan, so I guess this is one way of doing it.” Her anxious look faded.

  Lionblaze led the other cats farther from camp, into a clearing where the moss lay deep
and undisturbed.

  “Thank StarClan it hasn’t rained lately,” Foxpaw muttered as he tugged a huge swath of moss away from a tree root and started to bundle it up.

  “Be careful to squeeze all the water out,” Hollyleaf instructed him. “And dig as deep as you can to find the driest bits.”

  “Hey, look what I’ve found!” Icepaw came bounding across the clearing with a bunch of gray-and-white feathers in her jaws. “There’s a whole lot more over there,” she added. “A fox must have killed a pigeon.”

  “That’s good,” Lionblaze meowed. “They’ll be soft to lie on. Collect as many as you can.”

  When they had as much bedding as they could carry, he and the other cats headed for the Twoleg den. Lionblaze pricked his ears in surprise as they approached. The place that had always been eerily quiet was now swarming with activity like a disturbed ants’ nest.

  Poppyfrost bounded past him with a bundle of sticks in her jaws, followed by Birchfall, who was dragging a long tendril of bramble. When Lionblaze reached the entrance to the den, he saw Cinderheart stuffing more bramble into a gap between the stones.

  “Great, Poppyfrost,” she meowed as the young tortoiseshell dropped the sticks at her paws. “That’s just what we need.”

  “I’ll fetch some more.” Poppyfrost spun around and whisked past Lionblaze, back into the forest.

  “Let’s have that moss over here!” Sorreltail called. She was helping Ashfur drag branches into place, separating the floor of the den into separate nests. “Put it there,” she continued, waving her tail toward a wide space at the back of the den, already surrounded by thorns woven together. “That’s going to be the nursery.”

  Foxpaw and Icepaw followed Lionblaze and his sister and dropped their bundles in the place Sorreltail had shown them. Both the apprentices stared around uneasily, as if they expected something to leap out at them from the shadows in the corners of the nest. Lionblaze could understand how they felt. The straight lines and hard angles of the Twoleg nest were uncomfortably strange; the floor was hard and cold under his paws and it didn’t feel right to have a solid roof overhead, without gaps for sunlight or moonlight to shine through. That might be why Poppyfrost dashed off so quickly, he thought. Will the sick cats really be able to settle down here?