Fading Echoes

“Yes,” she breathed.

“I need you to be brave while I do this.”

“Okay.”

Millie tried to move nearer the nest.

Brightheart blocked her. “Give him room to work.”

Jayfeather nipped Briarpaw’s backbone again, a little farther down.

“Ow.”

He nipped again, working his way gradually toward her tail.

With each nip she stiffened, but stifled her mew.

He nipped her lower.

“Aren’t you going to do it again?” she asked.

The question turned Jayfeather’s blood cold. He reached into the nest with one paw and poked a claw into the same spot. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Briarpaw twisted around to see.

“No, don’t look,” said Jayfeather. He dug his claw in harder. “Now?”

Briarpaw started to shake. “I can’t feel anything.” Panic edged her mew.

“What are you doing?” Millie barged past as Jayfeather stuck his claws in hard. “You’re making her bleed!”

“Is he?” Briarpaw struggled to see.

Jayfeather hardly heard them. “You couldn’t feel my claws, could you?” he murmured numbly.

“No,” Briarpaw whispered.

“Your backbone is broken,” Jayfeather told her. “There’s no pain because there’s no feeling past the break.” He pressed his paw gently against her flank. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she squeaked. “If I can’t feel pain, surely that’s a good thing?”

“You won’t ever be able to feel pain in your legs again,” Jayfeather told her slowly. “You won’t ever feel anything in your hind legs again.”

Millie gasped. “What do you mean? Broken bones mend.”

“Not backbones.”

“How do you know that?”

“Littlecloud had a warrior with the same injury,” he told her.

Briarpaw was craning her head toward him. “What happened to him?” she mewed.

Jayfeather didn’t answer.

“He died, didn’t he?” Briarpaw whimpered.

Jayfeather felt Millie barge into his shoulder, shoving him until she had bundled him right out of the den.

“How could you tell my kit she was going to die?” she hissed. “She can’t feel her legs, that’s all! You’re not fit to be a medicine cat! Do something!”

“What’s going on?” Squirrelflight dashed across the clearing and slid between Jayfeather and her snarling denmate.

“He says she’s going to die!”

Squirrelflight stiffened. “Did you say that, Jayfeather?”

Jayfeather shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.” Squirrelflight’s voice grew calm. “Littlecloud’s patient died. It doesn’t mean Briarpaw will.”

“We can feed her and help her move to keep her healthy,” Jayfeather put in. “If we keep her active, she stands a good chance of beating this.”

Millie’s breath was coming in quick gasps. “She’ll recover?”

“Her legs won’t,” Jayfeather meowed gently. “But she doesn’t have to die.”

Squirrelflight’s tail swished the air. “We need to keep her as active as we can, so that her chest stays clear. If we can do that, she’ll be okay.”

“Okay?” Millie sobbed. “She’ll never hunt. She’ll never be a warrior! She’ll never have kits!”

Graystripe bounded into camp. “What’s happening?” He skidded to a halt at Millie’s side.

“Our poor kit!” Millie buried her muzzle in his shoulder.

The trailing brambles at the entrance to the den swished. “Briarpaw can hear you!” Brightheart hissed. “I think you should come in, Jayfeather, and explain to her exactly what’s happening.”

Squirrelflight’s nose brushed his cheek. “I’ll look after Millie and Graystripe,” she told him.

Heart heavy as a stone, Jayfeather padded into his den. He settled beside Briarpaw’s nest. Panic was flooding in waves from the young cat.

“I’m never going to walk again, am I?”

Jayfeather rested his muzzle on her trembling head. “No,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 13

“StarClan honors your courage and spirit.” Firestar touched his muzzle to Briarpaw’s head. Watching, Dovepaw felt a surge of excitement.

“I name you Briarlight.”

Bumblestripe and Blossomfall, already named, were the first to start the cheering for ThunderClan’s newest warrior.

“Briarlight, Briarlight!”

The voices of the Clan shook the chilly air and rang up through the hollow into a clear blue sky. Millie and Graystripe pressed against each other, their proud gazes sharpened with grief.

Briarlight shifted her forepaws, propping herself higher, raising her chin. Dovepaw tried not to look at her hind legs, splayed uselessly behind her.

It had been a quarter moon since the tree fell. Dovepaw was weary, like the rest of her Clan. The work of clearing the camp of debris on top of the regular patrols had left every cat exhausted. And with each shortening day, prey was starting to grow leaner and scarcer.

Dovepaw longed for a good night’s sleep. She had been plagued by terrible dreams. If only she’d given more warning, then Longtail might have been saved and Briarlight would be scampering around her littermates right now. A dream had woken Dovepaw only last night: the tree splintering into the clearing yet again, a trapped cat wailing.

Ivypaw!

In every dream it was Ivypaw who was trapped underneath the beech tree, not Briarlight; and in every dream Dovepaw struggled in vain to reach her sister.