Dovewing’s Silence

The following dawn, Squirrelflight told the cats to organize themselves into hunting patrols while she led a border check. Her voice was quiet and husky, and Dovewing hoped she wasn’t getting sick as well. When the deputy and her patrol, which included Bramblestar, had vanished into the thorns, the remaining warriors looked at each other.

“I’ll lead one patrol,” Poppyfrost offered.

Lionblaze and Cinderheart padded across the clearing to join her.

“I’ll come too,” mewed Birchfall.

“Actually, I was going to ask Millie,” Poppyfrost meowed. “Thanks anyway. Millie, will you join us?”

Looking faintly surprised, the gray tabby she-cat walked over to the group. Dovewing tensed when she saw the hurt in her father’s eyes. How obvious could Poppyfrost be? “I’d like to hunt with you, Birchfall,” she called. “Thornclaw, Ivypool, Mousewhisker, Blossomfall, will you come with us?” I will not let my Clanmates shun these cats for the mistake they made!

The four cats joined her, and Dovewing winced at the gratitude in their eyes. Cherrypaw, Molepaw, and Rosepetal formed another patrol, and the three groups of cats filed out through the thorns. Poppyfrost took her cats toward the old thunderpath, and Rosepetal’s patrol headed up the side of the hollow, so Dovewing led her warriors toward the border with WindClan, climbing up the hill to where the trees thinned out and it was easier to spot birds pecking on the ground.

Ivypool caught a thrush almost at once and covered it with leaf mulch at the foot of a holly bush. Dovewing picked up the scent of a rabbit that must have strayed from the moor. She followed it toward the stream, but stopped when it looked as if the creature had hopped across the water and returned to WindClan territory. Disappointed, she turned back and joined her father as he circled around a squirrel that was munching an acorn, so absorbed it hadn’t noticed the stalking cats. They drew nearer, placing their paws so lightly they made no sound, and when they were less than a fox-length away, Birchfall pounced. He landed neatly on top of the squirrel, dealt the killing blow, and lifted his head in triumph.

“Nice work!” Dovewing commented. “I’ll take it over to the holly bush.” She picked up the piece of fresh-kill and carried it through the trees to join Ivypool’s catch. She was just sweeping leaves over the fluffy gray body when there was a pounding of paw steps from farther along the ridge. Startled, Dovewing peered up the slope.

Cherrypaw burst out of the undergrowth, her fur standing on end. Molepaw and Rosepetal were close behind, bush-haired and wide-eyed in panic. Dovewing raced to meet them. “What’s happened?” she called.

Cherrypaw slid to a stop, almost losing her paws on the loose mulch. “We… we…” She paused for a moment until her breath steadied. Then she blinked and looked straight at Dovewing. “We found the scent of a fox inside our border. It could be the one that ShadowClan drove out, and it’s looking for more cats.”

The rest of Dovewing’s patrol crowded around.

“That’s not good news,” Thornclaw growled.

“It’s worse than—” Rosepetal began, but Molepaw cut her off.

“We’re going to let Bramblestar know,” he chirped. “He’ll probably want to send a patrol to track it down and chase it out.”

“We could go take a look now,” Birchfall suggested, and Blossomfall nodded.

“There are five of us,” she pointed out. “We should be able to challenge a fox!”

Cherrypaw glanced at her brother with a look that Dovewing couldn’t read. “That’s a good idea,” she mewed. “We’ll go tell Bramblestar and then come find you. Come on.” She flicked her tail at her patrol and bounded downhill. Molepaw followed, then Rosepetal, who glanced back once over her shoulder before vanishing into the bracken.

Something pricked beneath Dovewing’s pelt, as if she should have asked more questions, but Mousewhisker was already running up to the ridge. “Come on!” he yowled. “We can’t let this fox get too far into the territory!”

The rest of the patrol raced after him. Dovewing brought up the rear, still fighting the feeling that something was wrong. Ivypool looked back at her. “Are you okay?” she panted.

Dovewing nodded. “When we get to the top of the ridge, we should stop. I might be able to hear the fox.”

Ivypool slowed down. “Do you think so?”

“I have to try!” Dovewing hissed.

The warriors tore through the trees and scrambled up the last steep incline to the summit of the ridge. “Wait!” Dovewing yowled, and Mousewhisker skidded to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” he called.

“Nothing,” Dovewing puffed. “Let’s just take a moment to listen out for the fox, or pick up a scent trail.” They were close to the border here, and ThunderClan markers hung heavy in the air. Dovewing cast out her senses until her ears hurt. Nothing! Just the panting of the other cats and the rush of wind in the trees. Perhaps the fox is lying still and quiet?