Hollyleaf’s Story

Hollyleaf backed away. The cub was bigger than she remembered, twice as broad as her across its shoulders, and its teeth were small but definitely sharp. “Okaaay,” she mewed, taking another step until she was safely out of reach. “Let’s get you out of these tunnels.”

The fox bounced to its feet, filling the space. Hollyleaf braced herself. There was no sign that the cub thought she was prey; in fact, it looked as if it wanted to play. It let out another high-pitched bark and bounced on its front feet. Hollyleaf turned and looked back over her shoulder. It went against all her instincts to have the fox behind her, because now she felt as if she was being chased. Not chased—followed, she told herself firmly. “Come on!” she meowed.

She took a few steps forward. The fox ran after her, then stopped and whined. Hollyleaf looked at the tunnel ahead. It vanished into blackness, compared with the pale light that filled this section. “It’s okay,” she told the cub. “This is the way out, I promise.” She padded into the shadows, but the fox stayed where it was. There was a soft thump, and Hollyleaf realized it had sat down. Sighing, she turned back and squeezed in beside it. “Get up,” she urged, nudging the cub’s flank with her muzzle. “You can’t stay here!”

She jabbed its haunches with her paw and the fox jumped up with a yelp. Hollyleaf gave it another shove with her nose. “Come on, I’ll be right beside you.” The cub took a cautious step and Hollyleaf stayed close, pressing against its flank. “That’s right!” she mewed.

Slowly, they inched their way along the tunnel. The fox stopped dead when they reached the junction with the woods-tunnel, but Hollyleaf nudged and shoved and encouraged it around the corner until they could feel the breeze from outside on their faces. The fox let out a cheerful-sounding yelp and broke into a trot. Overconfident, it crashed into the opposite wall and sat down with a bump, whimpering. Hollyleaf ran forward and licked the fox’s muzzle. She couldn’t taste any blood, so it wasn’t seriously hurt. “You silly thing,” she scolded. “Stay beside me until you can see, okay?”

She knew the fox couldn’t understand what she was saying, but it still walked more slowly as they rounded the curve in the tunnel. Gray light spilled in ahead of them, painfully bright like before. The fox blinked and whined, rubbing its eyes with a front paw.

“It’s because you’ve been in the dark for a while,” Hollyleaf explained. “Keep going; you’re nearly there!” She reached up and licked the cub’s ears, and a picture of Squirrelflight doing the same to her burst into her mind. She’d fallen into a puddle and her mother had whisked her back to the nursery to dry her off. Her mother. Suddenly Hollyleaf missed Squirrelflight with a physical pain.

The fox jumped up and trotted on. It picked up speed as its eyes grew used to the light, and Hollyleaf hung back, resisting the urge to stay pressed against its warm fur. The cub didn’t belong here. It needed to be back with its mother, in their den in the woods. Suddenly the cub stopped, right at the entrance. It looked back at Hollyleaf and let out a questioning bark.

Hollyleaf shook her head. “I can’t come with you, little one,” she meowed. “This is my home.” The words caught in her throat like a gristly piece of fresh-kill.

There was a loud yelp from beyond the mouth of the tunnel. The cub’s head whipped around, its ears pricked. It let out a yip, and there was another bark, confident and joyous. “That’s your mother, isn’t it?” Hollyleaf whispered.

The cub bounded forward and vanished into the circle of whiteness. Hollyleaf crept along the tunnel until she could see the trees outside. The tunnel opened into a wood much like ThunderClan territory, with a mix of trees and dense undergrowth. The light crashed into Hollyleaf’s eyes and she narrowed them as much as she could. Her ears rang with the sound of leaves rustling, birds singing, and the thunder of paws as cub and mother fox raced toward each other. Blinking, Hollyleaf watched as they collided in a tumble of russet fur. The cub let out a volley of excited yelps as its mother bundled it over, sniffing every part of its fur.

“You’re safe now,” Hollyleaf murmured, trying to ignore the lump of sadness in her chest. “You’re back where you belong.” The sight of the cub butting his mother’s belly for milk mixed with images of Hollyleaf squirming with her littermates in the Clan nursery, bathed in comforting scents of food. I was happy then, before I knew the truth, she thought. But that life is over now.

Chapter 6