by Erin Hunter
“Don’t be naive.” Bramblestar stared at her. “New territory will probably mean new battles. Since when was any Clan satisfied with what they have?”
“When each Clan has enough, then the fighting will stop.” Why was he being so negative? “We haven’t gotten the borders right until now. But once SkyClan moves, every Clan will have plenty.”
Bramblestar brushed past her and padded after his Clanmates.
Squirrelflight caught up to him, irritation spiking her fur. “I had a good idea and I followed it through,” she snapped. “Leafstar likes the new territory, and now SkyClan will have somewhere they can finally make a real home. You just don’t want to admit I was right!”
“Nonsense!” Bramblestar lashed his tail. “I’m Clan leader. I welcome ideas from any of my Clanmates, and if it’s a good idea, I’m happy to be proved wrong.”
“My idea is a good idea!” Squirrelflight swallowed back frustration.
“You’re only seeing it from your point of view,” Bramblestar growled. “Have you really thought about what it would be like for SkyClan to move again so soon? To build yet another camp? To learn about new territory? How do you know there aren’t Twolegs here? Or a family of foxes? Have you checked every tail-length of this land? What if one of their kits is killed by a snake here? Will you take responsibility?”
“Life is risky!” Squirrelflight ignored the doubt shimmering at the edge of her thoughts. “There will be risks wherever SkyClan lives!”
Bramblestar ignored her. “And how does it make SkyClan look—agreeing to live where the other Clans choose again? Do you think the other Clans will treat them as equals once they’ve finished pushing them around?”
“That’s not my problem!” Squirrelflight shot back. “It’s up to SkyClan! Leafstar wants to move. She knows what she’s doing.”
“I hope so.” Bramblestar paused and looked along the track as it steepened and disappeared among boulders. “Are you sure that, after a few seasons living among these hills, SkyClan won’t feel like they’ve been pushed outside the Clans again?”
“Why should they? This land is right next to ours, and ShadowClan’s. And they’ll have a strip of territory right down to the lakeshore. They’ll be as much a part of the Clans as we are.” Squirrelflight hurried after him, following the path as it snaked into a narrow gorge. Ahead, their Clanmates padded beneath overhanging rock. The star-specked sky showed in a narrow band above them. As the trail opened into another valley, Bramblestar spoke again.
“I was worried about you, you know?” His mew was husky.
“I know.” Guilt rippled beneath her pelt. “I didn’t know I’d be away so long, and I told Sparkpelt where I’d gone, just in case.”
“Sparkpelt was worried too,” he told her. “More so because you asked her to keep your secret. She didn’t know whether telling me was betraying you, or remaining silent was betraying me. You should never have put her in that position.”
Squirrelflight shrank beneath her pelt. “I know,” she mewed softly. “I just wanted to make the Clans okay again. How was I to know we’d be taken prisoner?” As she spoke, resentment bubbled in her chest. Bramblestar wasn’t even trying to understand. Was he enjoying making her feel bad? “But we weren’t hurt, and it was good to see how other cats live. The Sisters have an interesting way of life.”
“And we don’t?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” He was acting like a kit! “They treated us well.”
“What about Leafstar’s wound?”
“She tried to escape.”
“And you didn’t?” He shot her a reproachful look. “Did you like the Sisters so much that you didn’t want to come home?”
“Don’t be mouse-brained!”
“‘Mouse-brained’!” He glared at her. “You force me to lead my Clanmates into hostile territory on a rescue mission and you call me mouse-brained. You’re Clan deputy, for StarClan’s sake! You’re supposed to be protecting your Clan, not putting them in danger. And you’re my mate. If there’s anyone I should be able to rely on in ThunderClan, it should be you!”
“You can rely on me!” The ground seemed to shift beneath Squirrelflight’s paws. Didn’t he trust her anymore?
“Not when you behave like a reckless apprentice.” Bramblestar glared at her. “From now on, I want you to run every decision by me. No more going off on your own ridiculous missions. No more arguing with me at Gatherings. If a deputy can’t support her own leader, perhaps she’s not fit to be deputy.” With that, Bramblestar pulled ahead, his shoulders stiff, and followed his Clanmates as the path wound into a wooded ravine.
Some of the ThunderClan warriors shot Squirrelflight sympathetic glances. It only made her feel more wretched. Did my own mate just threaten to replace me as deputy? She trailed behind. What was the point of talking to him? He seemed determined to twist her words, and he clearly didn’t want to admit that her mission might have helped the Clans. Suddenly she missed the amiable calm of the Sisters’ camp. In her days there, no cat had argued or worried about territory or fussed about whether their campmates were following the warrior code. They seemed to take life as it came, without judgment or complaint. As they neared the Clan border, Squirrelflight’s chest tightened as she felt the forest begin to close in on her.
She could sense that Bramblestar wasn’t going to forgive her anytime soon.
CHAPTER 7
Flippaw stopped as he crossed the clearing, a bundle of fresh moss for the elders’ den between his jaws. He dropped it as he reached Squirrelflight. “I’m glad you’re back. Hollytuft said the Sisters wanted to keep you captive forever.” He blinked at her eagerly. “She said they were twice the size of normal cats. Were they scary?”
Squirrelflight twitched her tail. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d answered questions about the Sisters since she’d returned yesterday. “They were nice,” she told him patiently.
Flippaw looked puzzled. “But they held you hostage.”
“Yes, but they shared their prey with us and took care of Leafstar’s wounded paw.” Why were her Clanmates so surprised that cats could be kind and yet still stand up for themselves?
Flippaw tipped his head to one side. “Is that why you didn’t try to escape?”
Squirrelflight swallowed back irritation. “Leafstar’s injury made it hard to escape, and I wasn’t going to leave her.”
“But you said they were nice. She would have been okay.”
“It wouldn’t have been right to escape by myself.” Didn’t young cats understand loyalty?
But Flippaw had moved on. “Were they rogues?” He stared at her intently. “Bristlepaw said they used to be part of Darktail’s Kin.”
“Of course they weren’t.” Squirrelflight flicked her tail sharply. She was relieved to see Hollytuft padding from the fresh-kill pile.
The black warrior looked sternly at Flippaw. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning out the elders’ den?”
His tail drooped. “I wanted to find out about the new Clan.”
“I told you,” Hollytuft mewed. “It isn’t a Clan. It’s just some cats who live near the mountains. Squirrelflight was unlucky to run into them.”
“Why were you near the mountains?” Flippaw blinked at Squirrelflight. “Are we moving there? Thriftpaw says one of the Clans has to move before leaf-bare or we’ll all starve.”
“No one is going to starve.” Hollytuft looked at Squirrelflight apologetically. “Trying to stop apprentices gossiping is like trying to stop birds singing.”
Squirrelflight’s gaze drifted around the clearing. The whole Clan had been talking about her time with the Sisters since she’d gotten back. Now her Clanmates were settling down for a midday meal. Whitewing and Honeyfur carried mice from the fresh-kill pile. Larksong dropped a vole at Dewnose’s paws. Finleap and Twigbranch settled beside the warriors’ den, snatching glances at Squirrelflight before tucking into a rabbit. Rosepetal blinked at her sympathetically, as though she
’d just recovered from an illness.
Graystripe sat beside Millie outside the elders’ den. Millie looked gaunt, and Graystripe sat close to her. “You must be glad to be back, Squirrelflight,” he called across the clearing. “Another cat’s food never tastes as good as your own.”
“Imagine!” Cloudtail stretched beside him. “A group of cats with no toms. Who’s heard of such a thing? I hope they didn’t give you any ideas.” He blinked teasingly at Squirrelflight. “I don’t know what Graystripe and I would do if Millie and Brightheart threw us out.”
Millie purred roughly. “The den would be a lot neater.”
Graystripe nudged her cheek with his nose. “But you’d miss me, right?”
Millie nosed him away, her eyes shimmering with affection. “Of course I would, you old fool.” For a moment the fragility that had appeared in the old she-cat’s face since the start of greenleaf vanished.
Small stones showered from the rock tumble, and Squirrelflight looked up to see Bramblestar scrambling down from the Highledge. She looked away to avoid catching his eye. Since she’d returned from the Sisters’ camp, he’d been polite but formal. Her heart ached at being kept at tail’s length, but she understood why he was still angry. She’d caused a lot of worry and disruption in the Clan. But she wished he hadn’t told her he was thinking about replacing her as deputy. She’d been taken captive by the Sisters only because she had been trying to find a way to keep the peace among the Clans. He wanted peace too. Why couldn’t he support her plan instead of criticizing her for it?
“Squirrelflight.” He padded toward her, his gaze cool.
She dipped her head. “Bramblestar.”
“Who do you plan to send on dawn patrol tomorrow?” He glanced around the Clan.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Bramblestar frowned and padded softly into the shadow of the Highledge. He beckoned Squirrelflight closer with a twitch of his tail. “I thought I asked you to let me know in advance of any decisions you make as deputy,” he mewed, lowering his voice.
Anger flared in her belly. “I never decide who’s going on patrol until the morning,” she told him icily. “I like to see who’s awake. It’s no use waking one warrior when another warrior is already itching to get out into the forest.”
“That’s sloppy. A warrior should know if he’s going on patrol and be ready.” Bramblestar’s ears twitched. “From now on, I want to know who’s going out on dawn patrol the night before.”
Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “Is that how it’s going to be now? Are you going to make up mouse-brained rules just to prove you’re in charge?”
“You’re my deputy,” he told her. “I need to know that you can follow orders.”
“Or you’ll replace me. I know. I get the message.” Squirrelflight glared at him.
Bramblestar met her gaze evenly. “I need to know I can trust you.”
“Of course you can trust me! I love you and I love my Clan. I would never do anything to hurt you or them.” The Sisters’ life seemed suddenly appealing. The idea that Moonlight would invent pointless rules for Snow and the others to follow seemed ridiculous. Bramblestar was supposed to be her mate. Why couldn’t he talk to her instead of trying to make her feel small?
Bramblestar sniffed. “I’m just worried that your judgment is not as sound as it should be.”
“Not sound?” Squirrelflight stared at him in disbelief. “Because I came up with a plan and tried to follow it through?”
“Because your plan put SkyClan and ThunderClan in danger.” He stared at her accusingly.
“The Sisters aren’t a danger to any—” She stopped as she noticed Sparkpelt staring at them from the edge of the clearing.
The orange warrior’s gaze flicked anxiously from Bramblestar to Squirrelflight. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” Squirrelflight forced her fur to smooth and hurried toward Sparkpelt. “We were just discussing patrols.”
Sparkpelt looked doubtful. “I wanted to talk to you both,” she mewed hesitantly. “But I can come back later.”
“No,” Squirrelflight mewed quickly.
“You’re not interrupting.” Bramblestar padded to join them, his gaze softening as he greeted Sparkpelt with the touch of his nose.
Claws seemed to grip Squirrelflight’s heart. She missed feeling close to Bramblestar.
Sparkpelt looked at them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Squirrelflight’s pelt pricked with unease as she noticed how nervous Sparkpelt looked, and yet the young warrior’s pelt was glossy and her eyes bright. She’d never looked healthier. What could be wrong?
“I’m expecting kits.” Sparkpelt blinked at her.
“Sparkpelt, that’s wonderful.” Happiness surged beneath Squirrelflight’s pelt. She glanced across the clearing to where Larksong was sharing a vole with Dewnose. The young tom was chatting to his denmate, his ears pricked, his eyes sparkling. Sparkpelt was going to be a mother, and her mate was a kind tom and a good warrior. Sparkpelt and Alderheart were both happy and settled. What more could she want?
And yet grief tugged at her belly. She longed for kits too—and a mate who still loved her. The possibility seemed suddenly far away. Her thoughts spiraled. Was she foolish for even wanting it? Should she resign herself to spending the rest of her days watching her Clan grow and change around her while she simply grew old and died?
“Squirrelflight?” Sparkpelt blinked at her anxiously. “You are pleased, aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m pleased. And Bramblestar is too.” She glanced at him.
Bramblestar was staring back at her, sympathy glistening in his eyes. Had he guessed what she’d been thinking? As she caught his eye, he looked away and touched his nose to Sparkpelt’s head. “That’s great news, Sparkpelt. We’re very happy for you. When are the kits due?”
“I’m not sure.” Sparkpelt was purring, her pelt fluffed with happiness.
Squirrelflight glanced at the young queen’s belly. It was already beginning to swell. “It looks like it won’t be too long,” she mewed warmly.
Sparkpelt pressed her cheek against Squirrelflight’s. “I can’t wait to be a mother.” She headed away. Larksong jumped to his paws and brushed against her as she reached him.
Squirrelflight turned back to Bramblestar, her feelings hardening once more. Were there any more rules he wanted to tell her about?
He was gazing at her kindly. “I know that must have been difficult,” he murmured.
Squirrelflight stiffened guiltily, ashamed of the grief Sparkpelt’s news had triggered. It was worse that Bramblestar had seen it. “I’m happy for her. I’m happy for them both.”
“But I know how much you want more kits,” he meowed.
She narrowed her eyes, anger flaring. “And I know how much you don’t.” She turned her tail on him and marched away. With every paw step, her anger melted and guilt took its place. Why had she said that? He was only trying to be kind. Overwhelmed, she headed to the medicine den. She needed to share her feelings with some cat. She remembered how relieved Leafpool had been when she’d returned to camp—surely she would understand.
She ducked through the brambles and saw Alderheart crouching beside the pool, sorting herbs. Leafpool was plucking old moss from one of the nests they kept for sick cats. She looked up as Squirrelflight entered, her eyes narrowing as she saw her sister’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” Squirrelflight mewed huskily.
“Come and help me collect herbs,” Leafpool mewed.
Alderheart looked up from his work. “We collected herbs this morning.”
“I know.” Leafpool whisked her tail. “But I think we need some more marigold. It won’t flower forever.” She crossed the den and bustled Squirrelflight outside. “What’s happened?” she asked as they padded into the sunlight.
“It’s nothing, really.” Squirrelflight hesitated. “I’m probably being oversensitive.”
&n
bsp; Leafpool whisked her onward. “Is it Sparkpelt’s news?” She reached the camp entrance and ducked through.
Squirrelflight hurried after her. “How did you know?”
“I’ve learned to tell when a cat is expecting kits.” Leafpool stopped and met Squirrelflight’s gaze. “And you’ve told me how much you want more of your own.”
Squirrelflight stared at her. “I know I should be happy.”
Leafpool swished her tail. “Come on. Some fresh air will do you good.” She raced away, heading upslope toward the beech grove.
Squirrelflight followed, relishing the breeze as it streamed through her fur. The thrum of their paws on the forest floor was soothing. The familiar sight of the trees and brambles reassured her.
Leafpool slowed down as the trees opened into a small clearing. Marigold clustered between the ferns, and she led Squirrelflight to a splash of orange where the flowers were growing thickly. Crouching beside it, the medicine cat tugged out a stalk with her teeth and dropped it on the ground. She looked at Squirrelflight. “It’s okay to be sad.”
“Is it?” Squirrelflight blinked at her.
“It must be hard to hear that Sparkpelt’s expecting when you’re not.” Leafpool tipped her head sympathetically.
Squirrelflight looked at her paws. “I feel selfish.”
“It’s not selfish to want kits.”
“I’m happy for Sparkpelt.” Squirrelflight looked at Leafpool earnestly. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course you are.”
Squirrelflight sat down. “It’s just going to be difficult.” Guilt jabbed her again. “Watching my own kit have kits. I’m not ready to be that old. I want another chance. I know Sparkpelt deserves to be happy, but it’s hard watching another cat get what I want so much.”