Night Whispers

by Erin Hunter

“Anyone else?”

  Flametail scanned the ranks again. “Hollyflower, Flintfang . . .” He frowned. “All our ancestors,” he repeated. His pelt pricked. There were only ShadowClan cats here. “Is ShadowClan going to die in a fire?” His heart leaped in his throat. “Is this your warning?”

  Sagewhisker shook her head. “Our message isn’t that simple, I’m afraid.”

  “Where is the rest of StarClan?” Flametail shifted his paws.

  “They are with their own Clans.”

  “But in death you are all one Clan.” Flametail tipped his head to one side, puzzled. “The borders between the Clans disappear.”

  A dark pelt flashed through the flames as a large tabby tom jumped down onto the flattened stone. It was Raggedstar, the noble leader of ShadowClan many moons ago.

  “There used to be no borders in StarClan.” His deep, rich mew rang around the hollow. “But times have changed.”

  Flametail’s claws twitched within their sheaths. “What change? Why?”

  “The battle with ThunderClan was unjust and unprovoked. But ThunderClan’s ancestors did nothing to stop it, and Russetfur died.” He nodded respectfully to the ShadowClan deputy.

  “Something terrible is coming.” Sagewhisker snatched Flametail’s gaze from Raggedstar. Her eyes glittered. “No Clan can be trusted. Each must stand alone if it is to survive.”

  Flametail’s fur bristled. “What’s coming?”

  Sagewhisker leaned closer. “We cannot be dragged down by another Clan’s treachery.”

  Fear tightened Flametail’s belly. “Can’t you tell me what’s going to happen?”

  As Sagewhisker shook her head, Flametail turned to Raggedstar. “What is it?” he begged.

  Raggedstar glanced desperately at Sagewhisker. “Why don’t we just tell him?”

  Sagewhisker growled. “If he knew, who would he trust? Suspicion could paralyze the whole Clan.”

  Raggedstar dropped his gaze to his huge front paws. “This is something far beyond our control,” he murmured.

  “What can be beyond your control?” Flametail stepped forward. “You’re StarClan!”

  “We guide you,” Sagewhisker meowed. “We advise you. But we cannot stop events that are bound to happen.”

  “So what can you tell me?”

  Raggedstar nodded toward the wall of flame. “You must burn as brightly as this fire to protect your Clan. Survival is more important than the code of the medicine cats. You must forget your allegiance to them and pledge yourself only to our Clan. From now on, ShadowClan has no allies. Remember this: A time of war is coming, and your warrior ancestors will stand alongside you. No one else.”

  A time of war is coming. The fire began to fade, and with it the starry ancestors. You must burn as brightly as this fire to protect your Clan.

  Flametail blinked open his eyes, shivering. He was lying beside the Moonpool, the hollow dark and silent except for the breeze whispering over the water. The scent of StarClan still wreathed around him.

  I’ll remember, he promised silently. I’ll protect my Clan, whatever it takes.

  Chapter 9

  Dovepaw sprang awake, shivering. The fern walls rustled around her, and she tensed against the icy draft. Without Bumblestripe and Blossomfall the den was colder than ever. She pricked her ears. Ivypaw was whimpering in her sleep.

  What’s wrong?

  “Wake up!” Dovepaw jabbed Ivypaw with her paw. What if the Dark Forest warriors were hurting her?

  Whitewing poked her head through the ferns. “Is everything okay in here?”

  Dovepaw turned quickly, shielding Ivypaw from their mother’s view. “Ivypaw’s having a bad dream,” she mewed. “I was just trying to wake her up.”

  Whitewing opened the fern wider with a snowy paw, letting dawn light seep through. “I thought I heard her whimper—”

  “Really, she’s okay.” Dovepaw cut her off.

  Whitewing shrugged. “If it’s just a dream, wake her up and come out. Brambleclaw’s organizing the hunting patrols.” She ducked out of the den, and the ferns swished closed.

  Dovepaw rocked Ivypaw fiercely with two paws. “Wake up!”

  “W-what?” Ivypaw blinked open her eyes.

  Dovepaw saw that one of Ivypaw’s eyes was bruised and swollen around the socket. “You’re hurt!”

  Ivypaw turned away, hiding her injury in shadow. “It’s nothing.”

  “Did that happen in your dream?” Frustration clawed Dovepaw. “You were fighting in the Place of No Stars again, weren’t you?”

  Ivypaw thrust her muzzle into Dovepaw’s face. “Shut up!”

  “You mustn’t go there!” Dovepaw felt heat pulsing from Ivypaw’s swollen eye.

  Ivypaw pushed past her. “Keep your whiskers out of my business.”

  “Why can’t you see how dangerous it is?”

  But Ivypaw had barged away through the ferns.

  Help her, StarClan! Help her to see that she’s wrong. And protect her. Dovepaw closed her eyes. Please, StarClan. She steadied herself with a deep breath and nosed her way out of the den.

  Hazeltail, Brackenfur, and Toadstep were crowded around Brambleclaw. Bumblestripe and Blossomfall jostled at their heels, and Cloudtail and Brightheart paced while Dustpelt, Sandstorm, and Thornclaw waited quietly.

  The ThunderClan deputy’s ear tips were just visible. “Dustpelt!” he called. “Take Sandstorm and see if ShadowClan has marked the new border.” He turned to Cloudtail. “Take Blossomfall and Bumblestripe hunting.” He nodded to Brackenfur. “Go out with Hazeltail and Toadstep and see what you can catch. I want another prey-hole filled by sundown.”

  Where’s Ivypaw? Dovepaw scanned the camp. There was no sign of her sister’s silver-and-white pelt, but she spotted Lionblaze at the far end of the clearing. The golden warrior was deep in conversation with Squirrelflight and Spiderleg, their heads almost touching as they murmured to one another. Curious, Dovepaw focused her hearing and listened.

  “How big were the paw prints?” Lionblaze sounded worried.

  “Big enough,” Spiderleg reported. “A vixen, by the smell of it.”

  “She’s used the track more than once,” Squirrelflight added.

  Lionblaze frowned. “So she’s not just passing through.”

  Squirrelflight unsheathed her claws. “We’re going to have to track her down and chase her out.”

  “It might be better to wait,” Lionblaze reasoned. “The forest is harsh in leaf-bare. She may go elsewhere. Foxes prefer crow-food to fresh-kill when the hunting gets hard.” He suddenly looked up and stared straight at Dovepaw. “Join Brackenfur’s patrol,” he called across the clearing.

  Dovepaw shifted her paws, aware that he’d guessed she’d been eavesdropping. “What about training?”

  “Training can wait.” Lionblaze turned back to Spiderleg.

  Toadstep and Hazeltail were already filing through the thorn tunnel after Brackenfur. Dovepaw raced to catch up to them. “Lionblaze told me to join you,” she mewed to Brackenfur.

  “Good.” Brackenfur tasted the air. “The more claws the better. Hunting will be hard today. It’s too cold to smell a thing.”

  “And your pelt’s going to stand out like a fox in a snowdrift.” Hazeltail circled him, frosty leaves crackling beneath her gray-and-white paws.

  Brackenfur snorted. “You’d better go in front then.”

  Hazeltail led the way up the slope, her pale fur no more than a smudge in the frost-whitened undergrowth. Dovepaw tagged on at the end. She pricked her ears, listening for Ivypaw.

  “Wait!” Hazeltail halted at the crest of the slope. She dropped into a hunting crouch, her gaze fixed on the ground ahead. A blackbird was hopping over the frozen leaves. Dovepaw held her breath, while Brackenfur and Toadstep stood like stone. Hazeltail began to waggle her haunches.

  Crack!

  A twig snapped underneath Dovepaw’s foot. The blackbird fluttered away in panic.

  “Sorry!” Dovepaw shrank into her pelt.
<
br />   Brackenfur shrugged. “Twigs are more brittle in the frost.”

  “Perhaps it’d be better if we split up,” Hazeltail suggested.

  Brackenfur tipped his head. “What do you think?” he asked Toadstep.

  “Sounds good,” the black-and-white tom agreed. “At least if we come back with nothing, we’ll have no one to blame but ourselves.”

  Brackenfur nodded. “Okay, let’s separate.” He glanced around the patrol. “Anyone mind if I take the shore?”

  Dovepaw shook her head. She was quite happy to stay in the shelter of the trees. “I’ll head toward the stream,” she mewed.

  Hazeltail was already following the crest of the slope. “See you back in camp, then,” she called over her shoulder.

  “I’ll try the edge of the moor,” Toadstep meowed. “There might be a stray rabbit.”

  Brackenfur brushed against Dovepaw as he passed. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  Dovepaw nodded. “I can practice my stalking.”

  The russet warrior disappeared over the crest of the slope. Dovepaw headed deeper into the forest. She listened, reaching far through the trees, searching out Ivypaw. Then she stopped. Ivypaw had already told her to keep her whiskers out of her business. And why spy on her when she was awake? It was when Ivypaw slept that she needed looking out for.

  Dovepaw wove between the trees until she heard the ripple of water ahead. Dovepaw padded to the edge of the stream and leaned down to drink. Ice cracked beneath her paws. She hopped backward in surprise. The still, shallow water had begun to freeze at the shore. There was a narrow strip of sand on the far side where she could reach unfrozen water more easily. Dovepaw leaped the channel and took a long drink. Water dripping from her chin, she tasted the air. There was no warm scent of prey, only the soft promise of snow. Snow was coming. Dovepaw pricked her ears, unnerved by the silence.

  The loud cackle of a starling echoed in the stillness.

  Prey!

  Excited, Dovepaw headed toward the sound, picking her way between the trees as silently as she could. The starling called again, closer now. Dovepaw unsheathed her claws and scanned the branches above. She would climb if she had to.

  A rustle in the bracken behind her made her turn. A starling in bracken? Unusual. She plunged in, tail lashing excitedly.

  “Hey!”

  A yowl of surprise set her pelt on end. Dovepaw felt fur beneath her feet. This was no starling. Bristling, she wriggled backward out of the bracken. “Who is it?” she mewed, her voice croaking with fear. She tasted the air.

  ShadowClan!

  The sour stench shocked her, and she tensed, ready to fight. What was ShadowClan doing on ThunderClan territory? The bracken rustled again, and Tigerheart popped out.

  Dovepaw stared at him in astonishment. He was on ThunderClan territory! “How dare you come here?” she challenged, ignoring the excitement fizzing beneath her pelt.

  “How dare I?” Tigerheart’s eyes were round. “What are you doing on ShadowClan territory?”

  “ShadowClan territory?” She frowned. “But this is ThunderClan.” She glanced quickly around. Pines mingled with oak and beech. She tasted the air. ThunderClan scents mixed with ShadowClan. Where was the border? She sniffed again.

  There! The border was behind Tigerheart.

  He spun around and stared at the line of scent-marked trees, as though he was just as surprised to find the border behind him. He turned back. “Sorry!” His amber gaze was wide with apology. “The cold seems to have killed every scent. All I can smell today is frost.”

  Dovepaw purred. “I know what you mean! I haven’t had a whiff of prey all morning.”

  Tigerheart looked relieved. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He glanced back at the border. “You’re not going to chase me off, are you?” A purr caught in his mew.

  “Oh, no!” Dovepaw shook her head. “It was bad enough having to fight you in the battle.” His amber gaze swung back toward her, and she felt herself growing hot. “I mean, I know we were having a battle, and we’re supposed to fight . . .” The words got tangled on her tongue, and she found herself simply staring at him.

  “Borders are more trouble than they’re worth,” Tigerheart muttered.

  “What?” She could hardly believe she’d heard him right. But it was true. Without borders, they could meet whenever they wanted. The thought made her heart prick.

  Tigerheart cleared his throat. “Of course, borders are borders.” He stopped, his expression growing soft.

  “Even when you can’t smell them,” Dovepaw joked. Why did he have to look at her like that?

  Paws thrummed on the ground behind her. “Patrol!” she warned.

  Tigerheart’s ears were already pricked. “Get back to your side,” she told him. “I’ll steer them away.” Tigerheart hesitated. “Go on!” she urged.

  The paw steps were getting closer. Tigerheart bounded toward the scent line. Then he halted. “I want to see you again!”

  Dovepaw blinked. “What? When?”

  “Here! Tonight. Okay?”

  “O-okay.” Dovepaw could hardly believe she was agreeing. She turned on her hind paws and darted away.

  Lionblaze, Spiderleg, and Squirrelflight were pounding toward her. Their bright pelts flashed between the trees. Dovepaw raced toward them, blocking their path.

  “What are you doing?” Lionblaze slowed to a clumsy halt.

  “Hunting,” she mewed innocently.

  Squirrelflight and Spiderleg drew up beside her. Spiderleg sniffed at her. “What have you caught?”

  “Nothing yet,” Dovepaw confessed.

  “Where’s Brackenfur?” Lionblaze asked.

  “Down by the shore,” Dovepaw told him. “We split up.”

  Lionblaze kneaded the frostbitten leaves under his feet. “Well, with the prey gone to ground to escape this weather, I can’t see you’ll be much use wandering around here by yourself.” He sat back on his haunches and shook tiny specks of ice from his forepaws. “You might as well go back to camp and help patch up the warriors’ den.”

  “Won’t Brackenfur be worried if I just disappear?” Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. She wanted to stay out in the forest and remember Tigerheart’s amber gaze.

  “We’ll find him and let him know.” Lionblaze’s mew cut into her thoughts. “After we’ve tracked this fox.”

  “Was it here?” Dovepaw peered around, suddenly nervous.

  Squirrelflight looked puzzled. “Can’t you smell it?”

  Dovepaw sniffed and felt her fur stand on end. How had she missed it? The forest here was rank with fox stench. “I—I was looking for prey, not fox,” she stammered.

  Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Get back to camp.”

  Dovepaw nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to make any more excuses. As she hurried away, Squirrelflight called after her, “Keep your eyes open!”

  “I will,” she yowled back.

  She figured that she must have given Tigerheart enough time to get clear. And she was going to see him later. She pictured his thick pelt and his long sleek tail, and she hardly felt her paws as she raced down the slope to the hollow. Her heart was pounding when she burst in through the thorn tunnel.

  She skidded to a halt. Outside the nursery, Daisy and Poppyfrost were leaning forward, ears pricked. Mousefur peered from the elders’ den. Berrynose, at the fresh-kill pile with a sparrow in his jaws, seemed to be frozen to the spot. Leaves fluttered from Leafpool’s paws beside the warriors’ den.

  All eyes were fixed on Millie and Jayfeather. The two cats faced each other, bristling, in the center of the clearing.

  “You’re pushing her too hard!” Millie’s blue eyes blazed.

  Jayfeather lashed his tail. “She needs to be pushed!”

  “But she’s exhausted.”

  “That’s better than lying in her nest slowly suffocating.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Millie was trembling.

  Jayfeather’s ey
es widened. “You want her to die?”

  “I want her to be healthy!” Millie hissed. “I want her to run through the forest. I want her to hunt and fight. I want her to know the joys of being a warrior!”

  “That’s never going to happen,” Jayfeather mewed gently.

  “Then what’s the point?” Millie raged.

  “Isn’t there joy in simply being alive?” Jayfeather leaned closer to the distraught warrior.

  “Joy?” Millie’s mew was thick with disbelief.

  Jayfeather lifted his chin. “I won’t give up on Briarlight.”

  A growl rumbled in Millie’s throat. “All you’re doing is dragging out her suffering.”

  Leafpool hurried from the warriors’ den. “She’s not in any pain,” she meowed. “Jayfeather makes sure of that.”

  “But she’s not getting any better,” Millie pointed out.

  “Being a medicine cat is as much about faith as about herbs.” Leafpool swept her tail along Jayfeather’s flank.

  Jayfeather jerked away. “I can deal with this by myself, Leafpool!”

  But Millie was muzzle to muzzle with ThunderClan’s old medicine cat. “Faith?” she hissed. “If your warrior ancestors are so powerful, why don’t they cure her? If this had happened in my old home, my housefolk would have fixed her.”

  “Millie?” Graystripe’s shocked whisper sounded from the entrance as he padded into the clearing. “Is that what you really think?”

  Millie backed away. “I don’t know what to think,” she rasped. “I only see my kit, broken and helpless, struggling through each day, with death stalking her like a fox. . . .” Her mew trailed into silence.

  “But she’s alive.” Graystripe blinked. “She’s here with us.”

  Millie drew a deep breath. “She has to watch her littermates living the lives of warriors, while she just yowls and coughs and drags herself to and from the fresh-kill pile!”

  The brambles at the entrance to the medicine den shifted. Briarlight’s paws jabbed through the prickly stems as she began to haul herself out. The hollow was silent except for the sound of Briarlight’s belly fur dragging over the frozen earth. She stared at Millie. “I’m getting better, aren’t I?”

  Millie rushed to her kit and licked her cheek fiercely. “Yes, yes you are.”