Dovewing’s Silence

They are already there, thought Dovewing, recalling the glittering shapes she had seen filing out of the battle-torn camp. She glanced around, looking for the cats who had returned to the warriors’ den. Toadstep and Hazeltail had joined the procession of fallen cats but there was no sign of the others. “Birchfall isn’t here!” she whispered to Ivypool. “Do you think we should fetch him?”

Her sister looked at her with anger in her eyes. “Our father isn’t here because he knows he wouldn’t be welcome. Every cat knows that Birchfall fought on the side of the Dark Forest. Same for Thornclaw, Mousewhisker, and Blossomfall. They are traitors. As am I, to some of our Clanmates.”

“That’s so unfair!” Dovewing protested under her breath. “All of those cats switched allegiance thanks to you.”

Ivypool bent her silver-and-white head. “Our sins are not easily forgiven, not when the battle lost us so many cats. Hollyleaf only died because she saved me from Hawkfrost.” Her whole body shuddered. “Perhaps it should be me lying there instead.”

Dovewing stepped closer to her sister and wrapped her tail over Ivypool’s flank. “Never say that!” she hissed. “Hollyleaf knew what she was doing. She died as a true warrior, don’t forget.”

Leafpool finished the words of the ceremony, wishing each cat a safe and swift journey to their starry ancestors and promising to see them again. She walked slowly along the line of dead cats, touching her muzzle to each still, cool head. She paused longest beside Hollyleaf, her lips moving as she whispered one last message to her daughter. Dovewing found herself instinctively pricking her ears to listen, then turned away. Whatever Leafpool was saying, it wasn’t for anyone but Hollyleaf to hear. Dovewing hoped the black she-cat was listening, wherever she was.

Squirrelflight joined Leafpool beside Hollyleaf and stood in silence for a moment. The deputy’s eyes were closed and her shoulders were hunched with pain. Then she opened her eyes and raised her head. “Only we know the debt that we owe to these cats. It is up to each of us to make sure that their deaths were not in vain.” She looked down at Firestar and reached out with her front paw to touch his cheek. “Sleep well, my father,” she whispered.

Purdy stepped forward. “Don’t dig the holes too close together,” he rasped. “They must be at least one fox-length deep. For safety, like,” he added, shuffling his paws. “Oh, an’ if the hole starts fillin’ with water, leave it an’ dig another further up the slope.”

“Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us, Purdy,” Squirrelflight meowed. “Is there anything else?”

The old tabby cat twitched his ears. “Well, Mousefur used to like watchin’ the sun go down over the lake. She said it looked like the water was on fire.” His voice trailed off and he swallowed. “So I was goin’ to bury her where she’d still get a good view. P’raps over there.” He nodded toward a grassy mound with a clear line of sight to the lake. “I know she’s not really here, but it feels like the right place for her.”

Sandstorm moved beside him and ran her tail over his bony spine. “It’s a lovely idea, Purdy. Of course we can do that.”

Dovewing blinked away the moisture that was gathering in her eyes. “Come on,” she mewed to Ivypool. “Let’s find a place for Hollyleaf.”

The cats began to move quietly through the trees, choosing soft but well-drained spots for each hole. Poppyfrost stopped beside a young holly bush growing beside the mound that Purdy had selected for Mousefur. “What about here?” she called over her shoulder.

Cloudtail walked over and prodded the soil with his paw. “Yes, this should be okay.” He started to scrape away the leaf mulch, pushing it further under the tree. Dovewing and Ivypool went over to join him and began to scoop up the earth. On top of the mound, she heard Bumblestripe, Cinderheart, and Lionblaze marking a space for Mousefur.

“Make it a bit longer,” Purdy ordered. “Give ’er room to stretch out.”

Silence fell among the trees, apart from the sounds of digging and an occasional grunt of effort. Dovewing’s fur felt hot and prickly but she kept going, even though damp earth was wedged uncomfortably beneath her claws and her eyes stung from bits of dirt that flicked up from Ivypool’s paws. Poppyfrost and Cloudtail worked at the other end of the hole, cramped against the holly bush but uncomplaining even when sharp-pointed leaves pricked their skin.

“Ow!” There was an exclamation followed by a muffled curse from somewhere above Dovewing’s head. She looked up and saw Lionblaze holding up his front paw. Blood dripped from a broken claw.

Cinderheart bounded over to him. “What happened?”

Lionblaze shook his paws, scattering scarlet drops onto the moss. “I caught it on a root,” he meowed. “I’m okay.”