Night Whispers

by Erin Hunter

“Can you manage the pain if I just ease the swelling?” Flametail asked the she-cat.

  She nodded, lifting her paw. Flametail chewed the shredded leaves into a poultice and wrapped up the paw, tying a dock leaf around it to hold the balm in place.

  Shrewfoot sighed as he finished. “It feels better already.”

  “Rest it for a day, then exercise it gently,” Flametail advised.

  Shrewfoot nodded and slid out through the bramble tunnel. Flametail turned to tell Littlecloud he was leaving, but the ShadowClan medicine cat was already asleep. Flametail’s paws felt heavy, and he fought back an urge to curl up in his nest. There were wounds to check.

  Nosing his way out of the den, he squinted at the light that bounced around the wide, flat clearing in the forest of pines. Several of his Clanmates were sprawled at the edge, soaking up the meager warmth from the leaf-bare sun. Snowbird rolled and stretched. Her white belly was laced with crimson wounds that made Flametail wince, even though he knew they were all clean now and soaked with marigold juice. Beside her, Scorchfur rested his nose on his paws, ignoring the half-eaten thrush lying by his muzzle. Redwillow lay at the entrance to the warriors’ den, clumps of mottled brown fur sticking out on his pelt. He twisted to give his flank a lick, but flinched and lay back again, panting. Olivenose and Owlclaw stretched side by side, pelts ruffled, muzzles scratched.

  The bramble wall shuddered as Tigerheart bounded through the entrance. A squirrel dangled from his jaws, and he tossed it toward the fresh-kill pile. Dawnpelt raced in after him, a pigeon in her jaws.

  Flametail hurried toward his littermates, sniffing for blood. “I hope you haven’t opened any wounds.”

  “We’ve been careful.” Dawnpelt ducked down to show him that the gash between her shoulder blades was still sealed with sticky cobwebs, no sign of fresh blood.

  Tawnypelt squeezed out of the warriors’ den. The tortoiseshell’s green eyes lit up as she saw her three kits together, and she greeted each with a lick on the cheek.

  Dawnpelt shook her off. “Yuck! We’re too old for that!”

  Tawnypelt purred and gazed around the clearing. “Where’s your father?”

  “With Blackstar.” Flametail wove around his littermates. “I guess he’ll be there a lot now that he’s deputy.”

  Tigerheart flexed his claws. “I can’t wait till he’s leader.”

  “Hush!” Dawnpelt nudged him.

  Tigerheart shrugged. “Well, it’s true. Blackstar can’t live forever.”

  Tawnypelt brushed her tail across her son’s mouth. “Don’t say such things!”

  “At least we always know what Tigerheart is thinking.” Flametail flicked his tail at his brother’s shoulder.

  Tigerheart stuck his nose in the air. “I bet you don’t know what I’m thinking now.”

  Dawnpelt’s whiskers twitched. “No, but I bet it won’t be long before you blurt it out.”

  Tigerheart dropped into an attack crouch, eyes twinkling.

  Dawnpelt pretended to look scared. “Help!” she squeaked, darting behind her mother.

  “Stop it, you two,” Tawnypelt chided. “The Clan is still mourning Russetfur.”

  On the far side of the clearing, Flametail saw that Rowanclaw had emerged from Blackstar’s den and was heading toward his family. Tigerheart and Dawnpelt were too busy chasing each other around Tawnypelt to notice his approach.

  Tigerheart rolled Dawnpelt to the ground. “One day I’ll be deputy, and then you won’t be allowed to tease me.”

  “No, you won’t!” Dawnpelt struggled from his grip. “I’ll be deputy!”

  Rowanclaw halted beside his wrestling kits. “Do I have rivals already?” he inquired.

  Tigerheart and Dawnpelt leaped to their paws.

  “We were just playing,” Dawnpelt mewed quickly.

  “I’m glad to have such ambitious kits,” Rowanclaw purred. “But I’d like to be deputy for a moon or two before you take over.” He glanced at Flametail. “Do you want to be deputy, too?”

  “I’m happy to be a medicine cat,” Flametail replied.

  Rowanclaw’s eyes glowed. “That’s a relief. I don’t think I could take on all three of you.”

  Tawnypelt rubbed her muzzle along Rowanclaw’s cheek. “I’m very proud of you all.” Her gaze wandered to Blackstar’s den.

  The ShadowClan leader had appeared in the entrance. His eyes were shining; his pelt was sleek and freshly groomed. “Warriors and apprentices!” Blackstar called as he stepped into the clearing. “You have had time enough to recover your strength! Gather around! There are lessons to be learned from yesterday’s defeat.

  “You fought hard,” Blackstar continued. “But we lost territory. If we are ever to regain it, we must learn from our mistakes. This defeat is a chance for us to grow stronger.”

  Give me a chance to heal everyone before you start planning the next battle. Flametail tasted the air. He could smell sourness. The wounds he and Littlecloud had dressed last night were going to need new poultices before infection set in. He glimpsed Ivytail wriggling out of the nursery. Her belly was beginning to swell with her first litter. It would be a while before she was fighting battles again. Perhaps she could help him.

  “Ivytail!” He approached the long-furred queen and whispered to her while Blackstar continued his speech. “Will you help me re-dress some wounds?”

  Ivytail blinked. “Of course.”

  In the medicine den, Littlecloud slept as Ivytail and Flame-tail gathered herbs and slipped back out into the clearing.

  Ratscar was pacing back and forth, his brown pelt gleaming in flashes of sunlight falling through the trees. “How in the name of StarClan can we fight cats who swoop from trees like owls?” he demanded.

  Flametail dropped a bundle of herbs beside Olivenose. “Your wounds need fresh herbs.” Flametail sniffed at the scratches on her flank. “Listen to Ratscar while I fix them.” He beckoned Ivytail closer. “Watch what I do.” He began to lick the dried ointment from the scratches on Olivenose’s flank. Olivenose dug her claws into the ground and concentrated on the debate.

  Smokefoot had stepped forward. “Perhaps we can turn what they think is a strength into a weakness?”

  Blackstar nodded, eyes like slits. “How?”

  “They land heavily,” Smokefoot ventured. “It takes a moment for them to regain their balance. We can use that hesitation to make the first move.”

  Applefur tipped her mottled brown head to one side. “Next time we’ll be prepared for their owl tactics. All we have to do is look up. It should be easy to get out of the way while they jump.”

  Crowfrost’s eyes grew round with excitement. “It takes time to climb trees and jump. ThunderClan warriors seem to have forgotten that they’re cats, not birds.”

  Snowbird nodded. “While they’re wasting time and energy climbing, we can be preparing to pounce on them when they land.”

  Dawnpelt joined in. “It’ll be easy to defeat them now that we know what they’re doing!” She glanced up at a hazel branch stretching over the camp. “Let’s practice!”

  Tigerheart was already running toward the trunk of the hazel, which was lodged among dense brambles at the edge of the clearing. He scrambled up it and picked his way carefully along the branch. Dawnpelt watched him, shifting her weight from paw to paw, her tail snaking over the ground.

  Tigerheart dropped.

  Dawnpelt leaped on him as he hit the ground. She rolled him over easily and flattened him against the cold earth.

  Blackstar’s eyes brightened. “ThunderClan cats think they’re clever, but they’re pigeon-brained,” he growled.

  Owlclaw padded forward. “We weren’t just weak in the forest fighting,” he reminded his leader. “In the clearing, they split our line in two.”

  “Perhaps we should arrange our line differently?” Rowanclaw suggested. “Older, more experienced warriors must fight beside younger, less skillful cats. Then, even if they break our line into pieces, each part will be strong.”
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  “Good thinking, Rowanclaw,” Blackstar praised his new deputy. “Before our next battle, we will pair our warriors: Skilled and less-skilled will fight side by side.”

  Flametail felt a rush of pride for his Clanmates. To ShadowClan, defeat meant a chance to come back better, stronger, swifter in the next battle. There was no self-pity, no blame, just the certainty that next time things would be different.

  Crowfrost had gotten to his paws. “We could keep a reserve of our strongest warriors,” he suggested. “Then when our enemy thinks they’re winning, we can send a new wave to crush them.”

  “Good thinking.” Rowanclaw nodded slowly. “Strategy is all very well, but we mustn’t forget that fighting skills are what win the battle in the end.” He turned to Pinepaw. “You were knocked aside by Hazeltail,” he reminded the young cat.

  “She’s bigger than me, and she took me by surprise,” Pinepaw mewed indignantly. “Besides, I was fighting Thornclaw, not Hazeltail.”

  “True,” Rowanclaw admitted. “But I think you could have parried her attack more effectively.”

  “How?” Pinepaw cocked her head, eyes sparking with interest.

  “Come here.” Rowanclaw signaled to Oakfur and Ferretpaw to join them in the center of the clearing.

  Flametail watched his Clanmates with one eye as he turned to Scorchfur and began smearing fresh ointment on his scratches. Oakfur was still limping, but his pelt was ruffled with excitement.

  “Ferretpaw.” Rowanclaw nudged the cream-and-gray tom into position. “You be Thornclaw.”

  Ferretpaw fluffed out his fur.

  “Oakfur, you be Hazeltail.”

  Oakfur nodded and crouched, ready to attack.

  Rowanclaw nodded to Pinepaw. “Attack Ferretpaw, just like you attacked Thornclaw yesterday. But when Oakfur lunges for you, let yourself roll with him, so the weight of his leap becomes a weight he must carry, not you.”

  Pinepaw frowned for a moment, then turned and leaped at Ferretpaw. As Ferretpaw wrestled beneath his denmate, Oakfur lunged, hooking his paws around Pinepaw and plucking her off Ferretpaw. Pinepaw went limp, and Oakfur stumbled at the sudden dead weight in his grip. As Oakfur staggered, Pinepaw twisted around, nipped Oakfur’s neck, and escaped from his grip. Oakfur quickly found his paws, but the apprentice was already on his back, churning her hind legs and sinking her teeth into the warrior’s scruff.

  “Excellent!” Blackstar stepped forward. “We have learned a valuable skill here.”

  “Great move, Pinepaw!” Ratscar called.

  Pinepaw nodded to her mentor, her black fur ruffled with pride, as murmurs of approval rippled through her Clan.

  Flametail licked the last of the ointment into Scorchfur’s wound. “How does that feel?”

  “Better,” answered the gray tom.

  Blackstar cast a glance at the fresh-kill pile. “Rowanclaw,” he called to his deputy. “Organize hunting patrols, please.”

  Rowanclaw flexed his claws. “What about marking the new border?”

  Blackstar bristled. “Not while there is a trace of warmth in Russetfur’s body.” His eyes clouded. “Firestar chose a dark path when he asked for that land back. Would a true warrior give a gift, then kill to take it back?”

  “Snake-tongue!”

  “Fox-heart!”

  Insults were spat into the chilly air from all around the camp.

  Blackstar signaled for silence with a flick of his tail. “Flame-tail!”

  Flametail jerked his head up in surprise.

  “Come to my den and bring Littlecloud. I wish to speak with my medicine cats.” The ShadowClan leader turned to Rowanclaw. “Organize the hunting patrols,” he repeated. “But stay away from the Twoleg clearing. I don’t want any fighting until our warriors are fully healed.”

  Flametail hurried to the medicine den and nudged Littlecloud awake. The medicine cat still felt unnaturally warm.

  He woke groggily. “What is it?” he mumbled

  “Blackstar wants to talk to us in his den.”

  Littlecloud was out of his nest in a moment and hurrying to the entrance. Flametail was relieved to see that the old cat was steady on his paws. He caught up with him outside Blackstar’s den, pausing to let Littlecloud in first. Ducking under the low bramble arch, he followed.

  Blackstar’s eyes glinted in the gloom. “Did StarClan give you any warning about the battle?”

  Flametail shook his head and glanced at Littlecloud.

  “Nothing.” There was a rasp in the medicine cat’s mew, and Flametail was suddenly aware that his mentor was wheezing.

  Blackstar was frowning. “No warning at all?”

  Both cats shook their heads.

  “I would have thought StarClan valued Russetfur more,” the leader muttered.

  “Perhaps they didn’t know,” Flametail suggested. “Or it may be that her death was unavoidable.”

  Blackstar flattened his ears. “Nothing is unavoidable!” he growled. He turned to Littlecloud. “Share tongues with StarClan. Find out why this has happened. I want to know if ThunderClan is planning something else. They might be planning to reach farther into the heart of ShadowClan territory. This battle may only be the start. They are at our tree line already, and that is too close to our camp.”

  Littlecloud blinked at him. “ThunderClan hasn’t stolen territory since before the Great Journey.”

  Flametail shifted his paws, uncomfortable hearing his mentor defend another Clan. This wasn’t the first time Littlecloud had treated ThunderClan as friends rather than rivals.

  The old medicine cat went on. “I thought Firestar’s leadership had put an end to their greed.”

  “But not to their arrogance,” Blackstar growled. “They have always tried to tell the other Clans what to do. Perhaps they feel as if they’ve been wasting their words and now is the time for action.” He flexed his long claws. “Go to the Moonpool. Speak with StarClan. Find out what you can.”

  Littlecloud’s flanks shuddered as he dipped his head.

  “I’ll go,” Flametail blurted out. Littlecloud was in no condition to spend a night in the open, and in such bitter weather.

  Blackstar glanced at Littlecloud. The medicine cat’s eyes were growing milky, and there was a tremor in his tail. If the ShadowClan leader was shocked that his senior medicine cat was sick, he hid it. “Very well.”

  Flametail followed Littlecloud from the den. Outside, Littlecloud’s tail trembled harder. “Will you be okay on your own?”

  “I’ll be happy to know you are warm and resting. You’ve got to take it easy, Littlecloud. Ivytail can help with the simple stuff.”

  Littlecloud opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but it turned into a cough. “Thanks,” he spluttered.

  Flametail dipped his head, uneasy that Littlecloud had given in so easily. The old medicine cat must be feeling really ill.

  “Take care.” Littlecloud headed back to his den.

  “What did Blackstar want?” Ivytail trotted toward Flame-tail, her belly swaying.

  “I’m going to consult with StarClan at the Moonpool,” Flametail told her as his mentor disappeared into the brambles. “Will you keep an eye on Littlecloud? He’s not well. He needs to rest.”

  “I’ll make sure he does.” Ivytail dipped her head. “And I’ll keep an eye on everyone’s wounds till you get back.”

  “You remember what to do?”

  “If they smell sour, lick out the old ointment and chew up some fresh herbs.”

  Flametail nodded. “Littlecloud will be able to tell you which leaves to use from the store. I’ll be back by sunhigh tomorrow.”

  “Take care,” Ivytail mewed.

  Flametail ducked through the entrance tunnel, blinking against the shock of cold air outside the camp. He broke into a run, heading along an old badger path that ran down to the lake. His paws sent up showers of needles; his breath billowed at his muzzle.

  As he raced down the slope, the lake glinted through the silver-gray
trunks. He emerged from the forest at a sprint, squinting against the sun flashing on the waves. Stones clattered as he leaped onto the shore, and he swerved to run along the water’s edge. His muscles felt lean and strong beneath his pelt. Blood pulsed in his ears as his heart quickened.

  ShadowClan wasn’t going to be bullied by ThunderClan. ShadowClan wasn’t a Clan that could be pushed around. Their arrogant neighbors needed to be taught a lesson, and ShadowClan would make sure they learned it.

  Chapter 7

  “What’s going on?”

  Ivypaw had limped back to the hollow, her foot sore from her training with Hawkfrost the night before. She was still ruffled by her argument with Dovepaw.

  How dare she judge me!

  As she’d padded through the tunnel, she’d tensed, trying to disguise her sprained paw. But no one had noticed her slip into the clearing. Her Clanmates were gathered around Firestar, their pelts ruffled.

  “What’s going on?” she repeated.

  Then she noticed Jayfeather staring down at her from Highledge as though she’d grown wings. A shiver iced her spine as his gaze locked with hers. Could he see her? He knows I’m training in the Dark Forest. She pushed away the worry. Once he sees me becoming a better warrior for my Clan, he’ll understand why!

  Blossomfall’s mew stirred her ear fur. “ShadowClan hasn’t marked the new border.”

  Ivypaw turned, sagging with relief. “Is that all? I thought there’d been another omen from StarClan.” She glanced back up at Jayfeather, but his thorn-sharp stare had relaxed into its usual blind blue gaze.

  “Is that all?” Blossomfall was blinking at her. “It means ShadowClan hasn’t recognized that the territory now belongs to us. That’s pretty serious.”

  Ivypaw shifted her paw, wincing as pain shot up her leg. “Well, yes. But as long as they don’t cross our markings . . .”

  “They’d better not,” Blossomfall muttered as she headed toward the warriors’ den, which was misshapen by a half-woven bulge at one side. “Are you coming to help finish the den?”

  Dovepaw was already there, working with Leafpool to bend one branch beneath another.

  “Later,” Ivypaw called.