Night Whispers

by Erin Hunter

  Why couldn’t Lionblaze have saved Firestar? What’s the point of having all that power if he couldn’t help his leader?

  In front of her, Brambleclaw crossed the stained grass where Russetfur had lain, and touched the tip of his tail to Lionblaze’s shoulder. “Russetfur was too old for this battle,” he murmured. “It wasn’t your fault she died.”

  Lionblaze hung his head.

  Oh, StarClan! Dovepaw’s belly tightened. Lionblaze killed Russetfur? Her mentor looked shattered, his eyes dull. She hurried to his side and pressed against his flank. She felt utterly helpless. Her power was the ability to hear and see things that were happening far away, much farther than other cats could sense; she should have known what ShadowClan had been up to. Instead it had been her sister, Ivypaw, who had told Firestar that Blackstar was planning to invade ThunderClan’s territory and steal more land for hunting. Had StarClan sent a dream to Ivypaw because Dovepaw had refused to use her powers to spy on the other Clans? Maybe if Dovepaw had been listening and watching, as Lionblaze had asked, she’d have known what ShadowClan was going to do. She could have warned Firestar about it before there was no choice left but to fight.

  Could I have prevented this?

  She felt Lionblaze’s warm breath as he touched his muzzle to the top of her head. “Come on,” he whispered wearily. “Let’s go home.”

  Dovepaw pressed close to Lionblaze as they trudged on heavy paws through the whispering trees.

  Chapter 2

  Jayfeather reached a paw into the far corner of his medicine store. He could smell stale marigold tucked beneath the rock; it was the last of his supply and so old that he wasn’t sure it’d be strong enough to keep infection from Sorreltail’s wound. But he clawed it out anyway and pawed it together with the last of his dried oak.

  “This might sting,” he warned Sorreltail.

  The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat had been sitting patiently beside Briarlight’s nest. “That’s okay.” From the echo of her voice, Jayfeather could tell she was watching the dozing young warrior. “Her breathing sounds rough.”

  Briarlight had fallen asleep before sunset despite the steady flow of injured warriors and apprentices through the den. Sorreltail was the last, having insisted on waiting until the others had been treated, though the gash in her shoulder was deep and still oozing blood.

  Jayfeather pressed on the poultice and reached for cobwebs to cover it. “She has a chest infection,” he explained, draping sticky white strands across the wound. “I’m not sure whether to make her exercise harder to clear her chest or to let her rest and fight it from inside.”

  Sorreltail brushed his shoulder with her muzzle. “Have you asked Leafpool?”

  Jayfeather flicked his tail crossly toward the wads of bloodstained moss and herb fragments that littered the den floor. “Does it look like I’ve had time?”

  “I just wondered,” Sorreltail replied mildly.

  “Besides,” Jayfeather muttered, “Leafpool’s busy checking injuries.”

  “I suppose.” Sorreltail got to her paws. “Thanks for the herbs.”

  Regretting his sharpness, Jayfeather touched her flank with his tail. “Do you want poppy seeds to help you sleep?”

  “No, thanks.” Sorreltail padded away. “Brackenfur’s snoring lulls me better than any medicine.”

  Jayfeather had treated the golden warrior earlier, snapping his wrenched shoulder back into place before sending him to his nest with strict instructions not to move until sunrise. The rest of the Clan had been spared serious injury. Only Firestar’s wound had required careful attention. The tear in his neck had been closed with cobwebs and firmly bound. It would heal, but the life that had seeped away could never be replaced. Jayfeather pictured the faint warrior in StarClan, a little less transparent now, his flame-colored pelt one shade more vivid against the greenness of StarClan’s hunting grounds.

  As Sorreltail limped from the den, Briarlight stirred. “What a mess,” she rasped over the edge of her nest.

  “How are you?” Jayfeather sniffed her, relieved to find that her ears were cooler.

  “Sleepy. How’s Firestar?” Briarlight blinked.

  “Asleep in his den,” Jayfeather told her. “Sandstorm’s watching over him. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “If only Russetfur hadn’t attacked him.” Briarlight had heard all the gossip from the other warriors. “Then Firestar would be fine, and Lionblaze wouldn’t have killed Russetfur.”

  Jayfeather tensed. “Russetfur was too old to be fighting!”

  The brambles swished, and Jayfeather breathed the familiar scent of Lionblaze. The warrior padded heavily into the den. “I should have realized that before I attacked her.”

  “What else could you do? She was killing Firestar.” Jayfeather shook out his fur and crossed the den to greet his brother. “Is Dovepaw okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Lionblaze reassured him. “Still quiet. But fine.”

  Dovepaw had returned from the battle shivering and speechless with shock. Jayfeather had offered her thyme, but she’d refused, saying she was just tired. Unlike her Clanmates, who were keen to share every battle move, Dovepaw had sat silently while Jayfeather checked her over, only mentioning when prompted that Lionblaze had saved her from Dawnpelt.

  Is it fair to make apprentices fight alongside warriors? Worry for Dovepaw tightened Jayfeather’s belly. Sometimes she seemed so young. At least Ivypaw was okay. She seemed rather pleased with herself, actually. And with only a bruised tail to show for her run-in with ShadowClan’s fiercest warriors.

  But she hadn’t mentioned her dream again. The dream she’d blurted out to Firestar where ShadowClan had invaded ThunderClan territory and set the forest streams running with blood. In fact, when Jayfeather had slipped into Ivypaw’s thoughts, it had vanished from her mind. How could she forget a nightmare so vivid that it had sparked the battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan?

  Jayfeather turned his blind blue gaze on Lionblaze. “Was it worth it?”

  “The battle?” Lionblaze stiffened. “Of course!”

  “But to lose two lives over a worthless piece of grass!”

  “We’ve sent ShadowClan a message they won’t forget.”

  “At what cost?” Jayfeather sighed.

  “We must not turn soft now.” Lionblaze’s voice dropped to a whisper as Briarlight’s attention pricked across the den. “Who knows where the next blow might fall?”

  Jayfeather’s shoulders sagged as Briarlight began coughing again.

  Lionblaze nosed him toward his patient. “We can’t afford to ignore any signs now,” he hissed. “Go on, see to Briarlight. We’ll talk later.”

  As his brother swished out of the cave, Jayfeather began massaging Briarlight’s flank with his paws. Her coughing subsided, and she laid her chin on the side of her nest, her breath quickly easing into sleep.

  “Is she okay?” Leafpool’s hushed mew sounded at the den entrance. She padded over to Briarlight’s nest.

  “A little cooler.” Jayfeather could hear Leafpool scraping cobwebs from her paws. He could tell by the scent that she’d been repatching Cloudtail’s gashes. “How’s Brackenfur’s shoulder?” He was worried that wrenching it back into place might have damaged more than it fixed. “Did you get a chance to look at it?”

  “Y-yes.” She hesitated. “What do you think?”

  Jayfeather’s belly knotted. In the past, her question would have been a test. Now Leafpool sounded like she really wasn’t sure. Why mumble like a nervous apprentice? It was as though she was frightened of putting a paw wrong. His mind drifted back to when she used to boss him around in this very den. He’d answer back, and she’d snap in return. The air would fizz and crackle as he rebelled against her overcautious fussing.

  The memory hurt. He’d known Leafpool in those days; he’d been able to predict her every objection. Since he had found out that she was his mother, he felt as if he didn’t know her at all.

  Ignoring her ques
tion, he dismissed her. “Will you check on Firestar, please?” He lifted a paw to wash.

  Leafpool’s whiskers brushed his toes as she dipped her head. “Of course.”

  Stop acting like a mouse! Jayfeather thought indignantly, while he tugged a sprig of thyme from between his claws. The brambles swished, and Leafpool’s pads scuffed away across the clearing.

  Jayfeather paused from washing and listened to his Clanmates settling down for the night. Poppyfrost was washing Molekit and Cherrykit inside the nursery. Purdy’s rumbling mew droned in the elders’ nest. Brackenfur was snoring just as Sorreltail had predicted. Blossomfall was fixing her nest in the warriors’ den underneath the fallen beech; perhaps she was trying to make it the way it was before the tree had crashed into the hollow.

  Jayfeather shuddered as he remembered the day it had fallen. Its roots had been loosened by rainfall, and the great tree had slid from the top of the cliff and smashed down into the camp, crushing the elders’ den and demolishing the thornbush where the warriors used to sleep. Longtail had died. Briarlight had been crippled, her back broken so that she could no longer feel her hind legs. It was only Dovepaw’s powerful hearing that had prevented more cats from being killed or maimed.

  For half a moon the Clan had worked to rebuild their home, clearing twigs, leaves, and branches as much as they could. They had rebuilt the elders’ den by weaving the old honeysuckle tendrils around a frame of splintered wood. The beech still spanned the camp, its trunk like a spine, its boughs a rib cage jabbing into the clearing, its roots gripping the bramble nursery like claws. Every night was filled with the sound of leaves and twigs being tugged and adjusted as the warriors worked on their nests in their new den beneath the strongest bough of the fallen tree.

  Jayfeather was still finding it hard to navigate the camp, tripping on unexpected branches or piles of twigs that had been brushed to one side but not yet cleared. Longtail, the blind elder, would have struggled even more to adjust. Perhaps he was lucky to be with StarClan, luckier than Briarlight. She had a chest infection now because she couldn’t run and hunt like her Clanmates. She could only drag herself to and from the clearing, her hindquarters dead as fresh-kill.

  Jayfeather shook himself. Fretting wouldn’t help. He rinsed his paws in the pool, shuddering at the chilliness of the water, then padded to the bracken pile beside Briarlight’s nest.

  As Jayfeather curled into the smooth stems and closed his eyes, Ivypaw’s dream pricked his thoughts. Why had StarClan set this battle in motion? He couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that StarClan would never share dreams with Ivypaw. Why choose her and not one of the Three?

  I’ll talk to Lionblaze about it in the morning. Tired to the tip of his tail, he let his mind drift into sleep.

  The stench of decay made him shudder. Blinking open his eyes, he found himself in the Dark Forest. Shadows pressed like dark pelts around him. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. What was he doing here? Was Tigerstar planning to recruit him?

  No. Tigerstar was no fool.

  He tasted the air. A familiar scent bathed his tongue. Stiffening, Jayfeather peered through the gloom.

  “Hello!” A cheerful mew sounded in a clearing ahead.

  Ivypaw?

  A gruff mew answered her. “Sorry if I scared you today.”

  Who is she talking to?

  “You didn’t scare me at all.” Ivypaw didn’t sound frightened or even surprised to be in the Dark Forest. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re one of the Clanmates, aren’t you?”

  The Clanmates?

  Crouching low, Jayfeather ducked into the mist and crept forward. Ivypaw stood a fox-length away, ears pricked, tail high. Beside her, Jayfeather recognized the broad shoulders of a dark brown tabby.

  Tigerheart!

  The ShadowClan warrior leaned close to the ThunderClan apprentice. “I saw you with Hawkfrost the other night while I was training with Brokenstar. I never guessed you’d be one of us.”

  One of us? Jayfeather crept closer.

  Tigerheart circled Ivypaw. “You’re good.” Ivypaw fluffed out her chest as Tigerheart went on. “It was a shame our Clans had to fight, though. How did that happen?”

  Tell him about your dream!

  Paw steps scuffed in the shadows, and cold fear traced Jayfeather’s spine as a rumbling mew interrupted the two young Clan cats.

  “Come on, Ivypaw! You’re wasting time!”

  Jayfeather’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the speaker. Hawkfrost. Tigerstar’s son, endlessly furious that he had been killed by his half brother, Brambleclaw, when he was trying to take Firestar’s remaining lives and leave ThunderClan leaderless and vulnerable for his and Tigerstar’s own cruel ambition.

  “You fought well today,” the former RiverClan warrior growled. “But you got the move wrong when you attacked Scorchfur. Never turn on two legs when you can manage on one!” He beckoned Ivypaw away with his tail. She followed without question, disappearing after him into the mist. Hawkfrost’s growl shot back from the shadows. “Wait there, Tigerheart. Brokenstar’s coming for you soon.”

  Jayfeather stared in horror, his paws frozen to the chilly earth.

  As the mist swirled around him, mews and growls began to rise from the shadows; young voices chirped with questions and called for approval while older mews snarled in reply, urging them on, pushing them ever harder. It was the noise of training sessions from any Clan by the lake—except this wasn’t the lake, it was the Place of No Stars. Jayfeather glimpsed sleek, oily pelts wrestling in the shadows and smelled RiverClan. Beyond a line of gray ferns, lither shapes reared and swiped at each other.

  WindClan, too?

  “Unsheathe your claws!”

  “Fight like a warrior, not a kit!”

  The scents of decay swamped Jayfeather’s tongue.

  Then Breezepelt’s mew rose from the shadows. “I wish I’d fought in the battle today.” The WindClan warrior sounded tense with frustration. “I’d have fought on your side if I’d been given the chance.”

  Who is he talking to?

  Jayfeather tasted the air, reaching through the foul tastes of the Dark Forest and shuddering as he recognized a ShadowClan scent. Breezepelt was swearing allegiance to a ShadowClan cat!

  Another shape moved between the trees. Jayfeather spotted the long dark spine moving through the mist like a snake. Yellowfang had given this cat a name on his last visit to the Dark Forest—a name she had spat from her tongue like poison.

  Brokenstar.

  “Don’t worry, Breezepelt,” the black-furred warrior growled. “There’ll be many more chances to fight. We’ll destroy the warrior code. Once it’s gone, there’ll be no limit to what we can achieve.”

  Breezepelt growled excitedly as Brokenstar went on. “With no mouse-hearted rules telling us what to do, we can rebuild the Clans stronger than ever.”

  Jayfeather shivered against the dread hollowing his belly. Clan cats, cats who lived beside the lake during their waking moments, surrounded him. He could feel their warm hearts beating, quickened by the lies of the dead. There was no hiding now from what was happening: Cats from every Clan were being trained by Dark Forest warriors to rise against their Clanmates, trained to break every part of the code the Clans had long fought to protect.

  Chapter 3

  “Mouse dung!” Lionblaze grumbled under his breath as Birchfall, snoring, flopped his legs onto Lionblaze’s belly for the third time.

  I wish I could sleep! Lionblaze heaved Birchfall away roughly. He got to his paws.

  “Ouch!” A sharp twig jabbed Lionblaze between the ears. The roof was low and as prickly as a hedgehog, bristling with twigs that still needed to be trimmed. The whole den needed trimming.

  Lionblaze wrinkled his nose. The air was rank with the stench of combat-weary warriors. Unease tightened his belly as he thought about the battle. Russetfur shouldn’t have died. The skirmish over the Twoleg clearing should have played out till the strongest Clan had cl
aimed the territory. Death had no part in a fight over boundaries.

  Lionblaze brushed past Millie, tucked into a ball beside the entrance, and pushed his way out of the den, cold air nipping his nose. He blinked, relishing the chill, pulling free of the trailing branches that dragged at his pelt. The clearing glittered in bright moonlight. Frost silvered the cliffs that circled the camp, and the ground felt like stone. Lionblaze’s warm pads stung for a few paw steps, then grew numb with the cold.

  He paused and listened. In the medicine den, Jayfeather soothed Briarlight as she coughed. Molekit was purring in the nursery, probably warming himself with Poppyfrost’s milk. The battle seemed like another world away.

  A faint crack sounded from the top of the hollow. Lionblaze jerked his gaze upward and saw a piece of grit catch the moonlight as it fell. It landed with a tiny snick on the frozen clearing.

  Something’s up there.

  Lionblaze headed for the barrier. Jayfeather had warned that the Dark Forest was rising against them; no sign could be ignored.

  “Lionblaze?” Cinderheart squeezed from the den entrance behind him. “Are you okay?”

  Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder. Cinderheart’s gray tabby pelt was still ruffled from her nest. “Did you hear something out there?”

  The thorns rustled, and Hazeltail slid into the hollow. “What’s up?” Firestar had assigned her to guard the entrance with Graystripe. The ThunderClan leader always doubled the guard after battles.

  “Have you seen or heard anything tonight?” Lionblaze glanced back up to the top of the hollow.

  Hazeltail followed his gaze. “No.”

  “Has Graystripe?”

  “Did someone say my name?” The gray warrior peered in through the barrier. His fur was fluffed up against the cold.

  “Has anything happened while you’ve been on watch?” Lionblaze pressed.

  “Nothing.”

  Hazeltail stretched, stifling a yawn. “It’s been silent as the stars all evening,” she agreed. “Why? Are you expecting something?”