Dovewing’s Silence

(black-and-white she-cat)

GRASSPELT—

light brown tom

DUSKFUR—

brown tabby she-cat

MOSSPELT—

tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

APPRENTICE, PERCHPAW

(gray-and-white she-cat)

SHIMMERPELT—

silver she-cat

LAKEHEART—

gray tabby she-cat

HERONWING—

dark gray-and-black tom

QUEENS

ICEWING—

white she-cat with blue eyes

PETALFUR—

gray-and-white she-cat

ELDERS

POUNCEFOOT—

ginger-and-white tom

PEBBLEFOOT—

mottled gray tom

RUSHTAIL—

light brown tabby tom

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

SMOKY—

muscular gray-and-white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace

CORIANDER—

tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat who lives with Smoky

Chapter 1

Dovewing stood very still in the center of the camp as silence crashed over the forest. From the corner of her eye she saw two pale shapes, a badger with a long striped nose and a hairless cat with swollen blind eyes. They nodded to her, then walked out of the hollow. For a moment Dovewing wanted to chase after them, to haul them back and demand to know what happened next.

Midnight! Rock! How can you leave us like this? The Dark Forest may have been defeated but we have lost everything!

The quiet beneath the trees was broken by a muffled sob. Sandstorm was crouching beside Firestar’s unmoving body, which still lay at the foot of the lightning-scorched tree.

“We have lost everything,” Dovewing whispered out loud.

She watched Leafpool press a wad of cobweb onto a bite wound on Cinderheart’s flank; Lionblaze stood over them, the tip of his tail twitching anxiously, until Leafpool sent him away to fetch marigold and tansy from the medicine cats’ den.

Millie touched Dovewing’s shoulder with her muzzle. “Are you hurt?” she mewed.

Dovewing shook her head. In truth, she had no idea what wounds she had suffered in the terrible blood-soaked skirmishes; she felt numb from her nose to her claws, and her ears were still buzzing from the sounds of the battle.

“Then come help us,” Millie prompted. She steered Dovewing gently over to the edge of the clearing where the bodies of Hollyleaf, Mousefur, and Ferncloud were being arranged. Dustpelt was staring down at Ferncloud, his dark tabby coat matted with blood and patchy where tufts of fur had been ripped out.

“You need to see Leafpool,” Icecloud prompted him, pausing as she carefully straightened Ferncloud’s feather-soft tail. “I’ll stay here.”

“I will never leave Ferncloud’s side again,” Dustpelt snarled. He slammed his paw onto the ground, his claw-tips scoring the soil. “I should have been with her. She should never have been left to fight Brokenstar alone. She was nothing but a scrap of prey for him!”

Icecloud glanced up at him with a glint of anger in her pale blue gaze. “My mother gave her life to protect the nursery. She died the death of a warrior. Don’t take that away from her.”

Spiderleg limped up and rested his tail on his father’s shoulder. “I’m sure Leafpool can come see you while you’re here,” he told Dustpelt. “We should all be with her now. Birchfall has taken Foxleap to the medicine den, then he and Leafpool will join us.”

Dovewing felt a stab of grief for her father. Poor Birchfall. Ferncloud was his mother as well as Icecloud’s and Foxleap’s. He would feel her loss hard.

Dovewing jumped as Whitewing appeared beside her. The white she-cat’s pelt was streaked scarlet with blood, and Dovewing opened her mouth to protest that she should be in the medicine cats’ den. Her mother quickly shook her head. “It’s not mine,” she meowed. “Can you help Purdy?” She gestured with her muzzle toward the old tabby tom, who was struggling to fold Mousefur’s paws beneath her.

There was an invisible stone lodged in Dovewing’s throat that made it impossible to speak, but she went over to Purdy and held Mousefur’s leg still while he gently curled her feet under her belly as if she was sleeping. The old tom’s eyes were overflowing, and his breath rasped in his chest.

Dovewing was distracted by a stir at the entrance to the hollow. Jayfeather and Brambleclaw were standing by the flattened tangle of thorns that had once protected the camp. “I’m leaving now for the Moonpool,” Brambleclaw announced, his voice ringing beneath the night-black sky. “More than ever, ThunderClan needs a leader.” He faltered as he gazed at the flame-colored body in the shadows. More quietly, he went on, “And now, it seems I must be that leader.” He nodded to Squirrelflight, who was watching him with her green eyes brimming with sorrow. “Squirrelflight, as my deputy, I leave the Clan under your charge.”

Without another word, he turned and bounded over the thorns. Jayfeather followed more slowly, his gray pelt the color of clouds in the moonlight.