Leafpool’s Wish

“I’m sure you can organize the patrols without me,” she teased. But her voice was high-pitched with tension, and Leafpool knew that her sister was frightened of what lay ahead. There was nothing she could say to reassure Squirrelflight. The future yawned before her like a bottomless chasm. The path ahead of her led straight into the dark.

They headed up to the ridge above the hollow and crossed over the ThunderClan border as soon as they could. Now that they were on their way, Leafpool had a strange urge inside her to get as far from her home as she could, as if the whispers of her Clanmates could still be heard all around her. In spite of her swollen belly, she walked quickly, and Squirrelflight sometimes had to trot to keep up.

“What’s the hurry?” she panted.

Leafpool just looked at her. Squirrelflight ducked her head with embarrassment. “Okay, let’s keep going.”

The dense undergrowth and fresh young trees that Leafpool associated with ThunderClan territory gave way to sparser, older trees, their trunks silvery and scaled with lichen. The bracken thinned out and soft grass lay underpaw. They could have moved faster here, but Leafpool’s paws were starting to ache and instead she slowed down. Squirrelflight said nothing, just matched her pace and stayed close enough to support Leafpool with her shoulder when the medicine cat stumbled.

Peering through the lake toward the trees, Leafpool figured they were almost level with ShadowClan territory by now. She hoped the breeze wouldn’t carry their scent across the border. They were skirting a thicket of elderberry bushes when Squirrelflight let out a soft cry.

“Look! There’s an old Twoleg nest!” She ran forward and slipped inside the tumbledown heap of reddish stones. Leafpool studied it. If Twolegs had ever lived here, it had been a long time ago. There were holes in the roof, and ivy sprouted from the stones as if the den were trying to grow itself a pelt.

Squirrelflight reappeared at the entrance. “We could shelter here for the night,” she mewed. “It’s dry inside, and there’s a good smell of mouse.”

Leafpool padded over and peered into the den. It was filled with shadows but it felt warm without the constant tug of the wind. Squirrelflight trotted past her and started nosing through a pile of old straw. “You know, this would make a great place to have your kits. It’s clean enough and dry, there’s plenty of prey, and we’re not too far from the Clans if anything goes wrong.”

Leafpool cut her off with a hiss. “We cannot ask any Clan cat for help! And this is much too close to the territories; we might be seen or heard. No, we can’t stay here.”

With a sense of panic swelling inside her, and her kits writhing in distress, she ran away from the abandoned den. Squirrelflight followed without trying to argue. Leafpool was grateful for her sister’s silence. She couldn’t explain the strange, fierce feelings that surged inside her the closer it came to her kits arriving. All she knew was that the urge to follow her instincts was too strong to fight.

The trees toward the lake grew thinner and Leafpool glimpsed the stretch of open grass where Twolegs came during greenleaf. The cats reached a narrow, steep-banked stream which bubbled down to the shore. Squirrelflight paused on the bank.

“I guess you don’t feel like jumping across?” she mewed.

Leafpool shook her head, too breathless to speak.

Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes. “You can’t go much further. Come on, we’ll head deeper into the woods and find somewhere to spend the night.” She turned and led the way along the stream. As the trees thickened around them, the sounds of birds and rustling prey died away, and Leafpool felt as if they were the only living creatures in the forest. It started to rain, gently at first but then harder, until the cats were drenched to the skin. Leafpool shivered uncontrollably, and the sound of her chattering teeth competed with the raindrops that spattered around them.

Suddenly Squirrelflight halted and scented the air. “I smell rabbit,” she announced. She veered away from the edge of the stream and plunged into the dripping ferns. “Follow me, Leafpool,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not leaving you on your own!”

Leafpool was too tired and uncomfortable to argue. She stumbled behind her sister along the faint trail of scent. They emerged from the ferns in a sandy clearing dotted with holes. Rabbit burrows! Leafpool saw Squirrelflight lick her lips in anticipation of the hunt.

But there was another scent here, stronger than rabbit, only half disguised by the rain. Not rabbit but…

“Fox!” gasped Squirrelflight, whirling around. “Quick, let’s get out of here!”

It was too late. In front of them the bracken shook violently and tore apart to reveal—not a fox, but the pointed, striped face of a badger, little eyes gleaming and jaws parted to reveal slavering yellow teeth. It growled when it saw the cats.

Squirrelflight jumped in front of Leafpool. “Wait until it attacks me, then run!” she hissed.