by Erin Hunter
Hawkheart touched the small wad of web with his paw. “It’s too late,” he growled softly. “She’s lost too much blood.”
“Brackenwing!” Shrewpaw pushed past Aspenfall. “Get up, Brackenwing! We won the battle!” He stared at his mother, then at Barkpaw. “What’s wrong with her?”
Barkpaw met his gaze with clouded eyes but didn’t answer. Beside him, Brackenwing twitched, then fell still.
“Brackenwing.” With a groan, Redclaw pressed his tawny cheek against his mate’s muzzle.
“Brackenwing?” Panic edged Shrewpaw’s mew.
Hareflight stepped closer to his apprentice. “She’s dead, Shrewpaw,” he murmured.
Tallpaw backed away, shock trembling though every hair. She can’t be dead! His paws trembled beneath him. A thought hit him like a stone. Why didn’t I tell Stagleap about the scents? He backed away from his grieving Clanmates, horror twisting his belly.
“This is my fault!” he wailed. “It’s all my fault!”
CHAPTER 16
“No.” Dawnstripe turned to face Tallpaw. “This was ShadowClan’s fault. No one else’s.”
Tallpaw hardly heard her. Blood pounded in his ears. What have I done? All around him, his Clanmates stared at him as if he’d gone mad.
Heatherstar narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about, Tallpaw?”
Tallpaw struggled to speak. “I smelled ShadowClan scent on the bramble thicket by Fourtrees. I should have said something but I didn’t.”
“Why not?” Heatherstar demanded.
“I thought it was just a ShadowClan patrol on the way to the Moonstone.” Tallpaw blinked at her, aware of his round-eyed Clanmates watching behind.
“You killed her!” Dark brown fur flashed at the edge of his vision. Screeching, Shrewpaw flew at him. Tallpaw gasped as his denmate crashed into his shoulder. Pain seared his nose. Claws battered his muzzle. Tallpaw lifted his forepaws and tried to push Shrewpaw away as vicious blows battered his ears.
“Control yourself!” Hareflight snatched Shrewpaw by the scruff and hauled him away. Tallpaw stumbled to regain his balance as Shrewpaw clawed the air, hissing.
“I’ll never forgive you! You killed my mother.” Struggling free of Hareflight, the young tom glared at Tallpaw.
Barkpaw padded from the bracken and touched his nose to his brother’s shoulder. Tallpaw desperately tried to catch his friend’s eye. “I’m sorry, Barkpaw.”
Barkpaw didn’t look at him. Instead he crouched beside Shrewpaw like a wounded rabbit. Tallpaw’s heart twisted. Oh, StarClan! Forgive me!
“Tallpaw?” Reena’s mew sounded behind Heatherstar. She crossed the grass and touched his cheek with her nose. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.
“Reena!” Bess called across the clearing. “Come away, dear. This is Clan business.”
“Oh, Tallpaw.” Reena backed away, eyes soft with sympathy.
Heatherstar dipped her head. “You made a mistake, Tallpaw,” she meowed. “But this is not your fault. ShadowClan killed Brackenwing. Not you.”
“But—” Tallpaw tried to argue, but Heatherstar turned away.
“Let’s move Brackenwing to the clearing,” the WindClan leader told her Clanmates. “So that we can mourn her properly.”
Tallpaw pressed himself against the wall of the camp, sheltering in the heather fronds while Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Hareflight lifted Brackenwing’s body and carried it to a grassy hollow between the tussocks. As they laid her down, Hawkheart brought herbs from the medicine den and laid them along Brackenwing’s flank. Tallpaw could smell their pungent, green odor as it masked the scent of death. Redclaw and Palebird settled beside her but Shrewpaw kept circling, his eyes dark.
“My dear friend.” Palebird pressed her muzzle into Brackenwing’s fur. “You’re the only one who saw Finchkit before she died. No one else understood my grief.”
Tallpaw wished there was some way he could comfort his mother. But he had never been able to. His chest tightened. She won’t want me. It’s my fault her friend’s dead.
As the sun rose into the sky, Hawkheart moved from cat to cat, checking wounds while Barkpaw dashed back and forth to the medicine den fetching herbs to treat them. Aspenfall and Ryestalk collected the shredded gorse around the nursery and began to thread it back into the walls.
Meadowslip peeked out. “Make them thick,” she mewed shakily. “I want my kits to be safe if there’s another attack.”
“ShadowClan won’t get through this,” Aspenfall promised her, weaving another thorny stem through the branches.
Stagleap helped Whiteberry, Flamepelt, and Flailfoot hook back the torn stems that dangled across the entrance to the elders’ den. Lilywhisker sat back and gave directions. “Weave in some heather to soften it,” she croaked. “The gorse thorns scrape my spine every time I go in.”
“Tallpaw?” Hawkheart’s mew surprised him.
Tallpaw glanced up at the sky. How long had he sat alone? Sunhigh had passed and the sun was sliding toward the moor-top. “What?” he meowed, feeling hollow inside.
“I need to treat your wounds.” The medicine cat was brisk. “Stand up so I can take a look.”
“Don’t bother.” Tallpaw stared at the ground. The scratches Frogpaw and Ashpaw had given him were throbbing. But they felt like gnat bites compared with the stinging wounds Shrewpaw had left on his muzzle. “My wounds don’t matter.”
“Don’t be rabbit-brained.” Hawkheart crouched beside him.
“But I killed her,” Tallpaw croaked.
“You’re a half-trained apprentice. The safety of the Clan doesn’t rest in your paws,” Hawkheart told him sharply. “You weren’t the only cat on that patrol. Are any of the others blaming themselves?”
Tallpaw glanced across the camp to where Stagleap was sifting through the prey heap. He hadn’t detected ShadowClan’s scents. But I did. I should have told him.
Hawkheart sniffed at the scratches around Tallpaw’s ears. Tallpaw flinched as his nose touched a tender wound. “Barkpaw!” Hawkheart called across the clearing. “Bring some dock and marigold.”
Barkpaw’s gaze flashed toward them. Tallpaw tried to catch his eye, but his friend just nodded and headed for the medicine den. Tallpaw wondered if Barkpaw would ever speak to him again.
Once Hawkheart had left and the herbs had begun to soothe the sting of his wounds, Tallpaw tucked his paws tighter under him. Palebird and Redclaw still lay beside Brackenwing’s body. Shrewpaw continued to pace in circles, while the rest of the Clan waited at the edge of the clearing for the night vigil to begin. Tallpaw watched the sun dip below the wall of the camp and huddled deeper into the heather, relieved as the shadows swallowed him.
He stiffened as the branches around him trembled. Someone was coming through the entrance. He jerked around as Hickorynose marched into the camp. Sandgorse, Mistmouse, Woollytail, and Plumclaw followed, their eyes stretching wide as they saw the torn gorse and shredded grass littering the clearing, some of it stained ominously red.
Plumclaw’s pelt fluffed. “Is that Brackenwing?” She charged across the clearing and gazed down at the dead warrior’s body. “What happened?”
Aspenfall emerged from the nursery, his fur covered in bits of leaf. “ShadowClan attacked.”
“Can’t you smell their stench?” Reedfeather leaped out of the Meeting Hollow. “It seemed as if the entire Clan was here.”
Heatherstar padded from her den, following the rim of the hollow and stopping beside her deputy. “It’s a shame you didn’t get back earlier,” she mewed quietly to the tunnelers.
Sandgorse twitched an ear. “Palebird?”
Palebird lifted her head from beside Brackenwing. “I’m okay.” Her mew cracked as she spoke.
Shrewpaw lashed his tail. “Brackenwing’s dead and it was Tallpaw’s fault!”
Sandgorse blinked. “Tallpaw? How?” Nose twitching, he peered into the shadows, stopping when he spotted Tallpaw. His eyes darkened. Heart twisting, Tallpaw looked a
way. He hates me even more now.
“Shrewpaw.” Reedfeather stepped forward. “You have to stop blaming Tallpaw for something ShadowClan did. You are Clanmates. Your loyalty is to each other.”
“But—”
Heatherstar didn’t let Shrewpaw speak. “This wasn’t Tallpaw’s fault, Sandgorse. Shrewpaw speaks from grief, that’s all.”
Tallpaw swallowed. Was that true? No one had been near him all day except Hawkheart. Was the whole Clan grieving as much as Shrewpaw?
“Meadowslip!” Hickorynose bounded to the nursery.
Meadowslip squeezed out, dropping onto the grass and pressing her cheek to her mate’s.
Hickorynose fussed over her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Meadowslip promised. “Bess and Algie defended the den with Reena.” She blinked gratefully across the camp at the rogues as they cleared scraps of heather and gorse from the bloodstained tussocks.
“I wish I’d been here to protect you,” Hickorynose fretted.
Hareflight padded toward Brackenwing’s body. “So do we.” Hickorynose stared in surprise at the brown warrior. “The tunnelers are never here when we need them,” Hareflight hissed.
Reedfeather stepped forward. “We can’t keep blaming each other for this.”
Woollytail’s hackles rose. “This wasn’t our fault.”
Cloudrunner lifted his muzzle. “Where were you when we were fighting to defend the Clan?”
“We were digging tunnels so you could eat come leaf-bare!” Plumclaw snapped.
Aspenfall’s tail twitched. “What good will your precious tunnels be if ShadowClan drives us from our home?”
Sandgorse narrowed his eyes. “If you’d let us dig the tunnels we need, we could defend our home more effectively!”
“You mean the gorge tunnel?” Aspenfall curled his lip. “How would that have helped today?”
“It would have given us an escape route!” Sandgorse snarled.
“To where?” Aspenfall challenged. “RiverClan territory?”
Sandgorse narrowed his eyes. “We could have sheltered in the tunnel. It’s big enough for the whole Clan.”
“You want us to leave our camp and hide?” Cloudrunner squared up to Sandgorse, pelt bristling. “Are you a warrior, or a rabbit?”
Tallpaw braced himself. The Clan was tearing itself apart!
CHAPTER 17
Paw steps sounded in the shadows behind Tallpaw. He scented Sparrow and looked up. The rogue had slid among the heather fronds and stood at Tallpaw’s shoulder. “These are tough times, Tallpaw,” he murmured. Tallpaw moved closer to the brown tom, relieved to have someone beside him.
Heatherstar pushed between Cloudrunner and Sandgorse. “We can’t let this tragedy divide us,” she meowed. “We are WindClan and we are strong.” She dipped her head to Bess and Algernon. “And thanks to our visitors’ battle skills today, we are safe. If they hadn’t been here, we may have lost our home.”
“What are you saying?” Hickorynose curled his lip. “That without them, ShadowClan would have won?”
Heatherstar met his gaze steadily. “Half our warriors were away tunneling. It made us vulnerable.”
Tallpaw gulped. This felt like a direct challenge to the tunnelers! Beside him, Sparrow pricked his ears.
“We were lucky our visitors were with us today,” Heatherstar went on. “But they won’t be with us forever. What will happen if ShadowClan attacks once they’ve left?”
Plumclaw’s eyes stretched into twin moons. “Are you saying we have to stop tunneling?”
Tallpaw’s pads pricked as he watched his father’s tail sweep the grass behind him.
“No,” Heatherstar meowed. “But we should send out smaller tunneling patrols, and give you more training in aboveground battle skills.”
Sandgorse lifted his chin. “So our skills aren’t enough to protect the Clan?”
“I’m saying that the more skills we share, the better.” Heatherstar gazed down at Brackenwing. “But first we shall join as one Clan to sit vigil for our fallen Clanmate.” She crouched down and touched her nose to Brackenwing’s ginger pelt.
Reedfeather joined her. As the Clan gathered around the dead warrior, Tallpaw ducked out from the heather and crossed the camp. Squeezing in beside Palebird, he pressed his muzzle to Brackenwing’s pelt. Beneath her blood-soaked pelt, she felt like stone. Tallpaw leaned against his mother, breathing in the warm scent of her fur.
“Palebird?” he whispered. Please tell me it’s going to be okay.
Palebird nuzzled closer to Brackenwing. Heart aching, Tallpaw screwed his eyes shut.
“What’s this about a gorge tunnel?” he heard Sparrow whisper from the shadows behind.
Sandgorse answered him. “We spent half of leaf-bare and all newleaf digging it,” he growled under his breath. “But we’ve had to abandon it.”
“Why?” Sparrow sounded curious.
“A dumb flood scared one of the apprentices.”
Tallpaw flinched. One of the apprentices? Is that all I am to you now?
“Why did you build a tunnel there?” Sparrow pressed.
“To give us a secret route to the river.”
“Hush!” Larksplash snapped. “We’re sitting vigil!”
The grass behind Tallpaw swished as Sandgorse joined his Clanmates. Tallpaw let his head drop against his mother’s shoulder. Even if she didn’t seem to know he was there, he could take warmth from her pelt. Tiredness crept over him as he leaned deeper into her fur. Letting go of his misery, he drifted into sleep.
The movement of Brackenwing’s body woke him. Tallpaw jerked up his head and blinked. The sky was pale, the beginnings of dawn showing over the heather wall. The elders were dragging their Clanmate away.
Palebird shifted beside him. “Can I help with the burial?” She clambered to her paws.
“Yes, you can,” puffed Flamepelt, who was crouched down as Whiteberry and Lilywhisker hauled Brackenwing onto his back.
Tallpaw felt cold air where Palebird had been. He stood up, his wounds stinging, his legs stiff from the damp grass. Redclaw and Cloudrunner shooed him backward to make way for the elders as they carried Brackenwing out of the camp.
Heatherstar dipped her head as they passed. “May StarClan cherish her as we did,” she murmured.
The rogues kept back by the wall to the camp, looking mournful and somber. Only Sparrow’s gaze glittered with something like curiosity as he watched the elders leave.
“Go and rest in your den.” Tallpaw heard Dawnstripe’s whisper and turned around. His mentor was gazing at him gently. “You must be tired,” she murmured.
“Actually, I slept all night.” Tallpaw shifted his paws guiltily. Was he supposed to stay awake?
“Then let’s train.” Dawnstripe whisked her tail. “The vigil is over. We might as well carry on as normal.” She headed for the entrance and Tallpaw followed, relieved that Dawnstripe hadn’t tried to ask how he was feeling. Her briskness was as refreshing as the wind.
They passed Sparrow and Sandgorse. The toms were talking with their heads close together, and Sandgorse’s eyes flashed with excitement. Tallpaw pricked his ears.
“You say Heatherstar’s forbidden you from going down there?” Sparrow asked.
“Yes,” Sandgorse whispered.
Tallpaw halted and sat down, pretending to search for a flea in his tail. Why was Sparrow so interested in the gorge tunnel?
“What a waste,” murmured the rogue.
Sandgorse nodded. “All that paw-work for nothing.”
“You sound proud of the tunnel.”
“I know it better than I know my own pelt,” Sandgorse declared.
“Then surely you can go down there?” Sparrow reasoned. “You know which parts are safe and which might be dangerous.”
“Of course I do!” Sandgorse snorted. “I built every step of it with my own paws.”
Tallpaw straightened up. What was Sandgorse thinking? Were his tunnels the only thing he cared
about? Sandgorse thought he was special just because he could dig! Rabbits dig! They’re not special. Pelt pricking, Tallpaw ducked out of camp and raced after Dawnstripe. His thoughts whirled. Perhaps Heatherstar was right. The Clans needed warriors who could fight, not tunnels.
As they reached the training ground, the sun lifted over the forest and spilled light across the grass. Tallpaw was relieved to feel warmth washing his fur. “Dawnstripe?” he asked as she halted at the head of the grass clearing.
“What?” She looked around.
“Do we really need tunnelers?”
Dawnstripe hesitated. “It’s part of our tradition,” she told him at last. “There’s a lot of skill and courage involved. Skills that only WindClan possesses.”
“So it makes us special?” Tallpaw pressed.
“Yes.”
“But what use is it?” Tallpaw meowed bluntly. “What’s the point of digging underground when battles are fought up here?” He gestured to the endless moor with his tail.
Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “Let Heatherstar worry about whether WindClan needs tunnelers or not. We’re here to train.” Tallpaw felt a prick of frustration. She hadn’t answered his question. “Just one lap!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail and Tallpaw hared away across the grass. “You’ll be stiff after the battle, so take it easy,” she called after him.
She was right. Tallpaw tensed as pain flashed through him. But he wasn’t going to take it easy. When he was running he couldn’t think about anything else, and that felt good. He charged along the grass, brushing close to the heather, making as wide a circuit as he could. As he rounded the far end, he saw a creamy brown pelt slide out from the heather to stand beside Dawnstripe. Algernon. Tallpaw sped up, wondering why Algernon had come to the training area.
“Is everything okay in the camp?” He skidded to a halt a tail-length from Dawnstripe and Algernon.
“Of course. I just came to see what you were doing,” Algernon rumbled. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Tallpaw shrugged. “Of course not.” He peered past the rogue. Was Reena coming, too? “Where are the others?”