Dovewing’s Silence

Bramblestar looked questioningly at Sandstorm. “What do you think? Would that give you a better chance to recover, if you’re not worried about waking the other warriors? I know we’re planning to build a second warriors’ den to give you all more room, but that won’t be finished for another quarter moon.”

There was a flash of defiance in Sandstorm’s green eyes. “It’s just a touch of whitecough!” she croaked. “Are you saying that I’m only fit to be an elder now? I still have moons in me to serve my Clanmates!”

There was a harsh note of fear beneath her words that gave Dovewing a stab of empathy. I know how she feels. Whatever’s wrong with my senses, it’s making me feel useless as well! She hadn’t made a decent catch for the fresh-kill pile in days, and her ears ached from straining over the boundaries when she was on border patrol. A tiny voice in her mind whispered, What if your powers never come back?, but Dovewing pushed it away. How can I serve my Clan if I’m deaf and blind?

Bramblestar padded over to the ginger she-cat and pressed his muzzle against her shoulder. “No cat is asking you to retire,” he assured her. “I just want you to be as fit as possible for leaf-bare. And if you’re keeping the other cats awake, you need to think about them as well.”

Sandstorm lifted her head. “I’ll ask the medicine cats for some honey.” She sniffed. “I’ll be fine. And why don’t I sleep in the apprentices’ den, since that’s empty? That way I won’t disturb anyone.”

Purdy’s shoulders slumped and Dovewing wondered if she should offer to sleep in Mousefur’s old nest beside him. He must be feeling cold on his own, now that the frost had taken hold. Before she could say anything, Berrynose stepped forward.

“The warriors’ den is kind of cramped,” he mewed to Bramblestar. “Poppyfrost and I would be happy to sleep in with Purdy, if he’ll have us.”

The old tabby cat’s eyes lit up. “Glad to give you room,” he meowed. “I’d better go and sort out some nests.” He bustled off, his tail straight up.

“That was kind of Berrynose and Poppyfrost,” Dovewing murmured to Ivypool, who was standing beside her.

Her sister narrowed her eyes. “Do you think so? Or are they just desperate to get away from those ferocious Dark Forest cats who sleep too close to them?”

Dovewing stared at her in shock. “But it’s been almost a whole moon since you swore your new oath! Surely you’ve been forgiven by now?”

“Not by some cats,” Ivypool growled. “Haven’t you seen how Dustpelt would rather wait until the fresh-kill pile has been stripped of all the best prey, rather than go up at the same time as one of us?” She padded away, her tail leaving a tiny line in the frostbitten grass.

“We’ll sleep in the elders’ den too,” piped up Cherrypaw, nodding to her brother, Molepaw.

That makes sense, since Poppyfrost and Berrynose are their mother and father, Dovewing thought. But then she saw Molepaw glare at Birchfall, and her belly flipped over. Those cats had done nothing but serve their Clan loyally since the Great Battle. How could there be anything left to forget?

“That’s fine,” meowed Squirrelflight to the young cats. “I’ll join Sandstorm in the apprentices’ den, and that way there will be more room for the other warriors while the new den is being built.” When Sandstorm started to protest, Squirrelflight blinked affectionately at her mother. “I’ll be there whether you like it or not,” she purred. “It’s too cold for you to sleep alone.”

There was a flurry of activity as the cats scattered to prepare new nests. Dovewing stayed where she was, as if her paws had frozen to the grass. Her ears were buzzing again and shadows clustered at the edges of her mind, making her heart beat faster. Dividing the warriors into separate dens felt like a terrible omen; the Clan was splitting apart, in spite of everything they had survived together. Had the Great Battle been forgotten already? Or were her Clanmates determined only to remember whose loyalty had been questioned, without recalling the courage every cat showed to drive out the Dark Forest attackers?

“Dovewing? Are you all right?” Whitewing was peering at her with a concerned look in her eyes.

Dovewing shook herself, sending drops of mist flying from her pelt. “I’m fine.”

“Why don’t you help me fetch some moss?” Whitewing suggested. “It feels like ages since I spent any time with you!”