Long Shadows

Poppyfrost bounded past him with a bundle of sticks in her jaws, followed by Birchfall, who was dragging a long tendril of bramble. When Lionblaze reached the entrance to the den, he saw Cinderheart stuffing more bramble into a gap between the stones.

“Great, Poppyfrost,” she meowed as the young tortoiseshell dropped the sticks at her paws. “That’s just what we need.”

“I’ll fetch some more.” Poppyfrost spun around and whisked past Lionblaze, back into the forest.

“Let’s have that moss over here!” Sorreltail called. She was helping Ashfur drag branches into place, separating the floor of the den into separate nests. “Put it there,” she continued, waving her tail toward a wide space at the back of the den, already surrounded by thorns woven together. “That’s going to be the nursery.”

Foxpaw and Icepaw followed Lionblaze and his sister and dropped their bundles in the place Sorreltail had shown them. Both the apprentices stared around uneasily, as if they expected something to leap out at them from the shadows in the corners of the nest. Lionblaze could understand how they felt. The straight lines and hard angles of the Twoleg nest were uncomfortably strange; the floor was hard and cold under his paws and it didn’t feel right to have a solid roof overhead, without gaps for sunlight or moonlight to shine through. That might be why Poppyfrost dashed off so quickly, he thought. Will the sick cats really be able to settle down here?

“Well, why are you standing there?” Sorreltail asked. “Go and fetch us some more moss.” She gave Lionblaze an affectionate prod with her muzzle, softening her sharp tone. “Make sure it’s good and dry, and we’ll need all you can find.”

When Lionblaze and the others returned the second time, he spotted Sandstorm approaching at the head of a hunting patrol. Berrynose and Whitewing followed her; all three cats had their jaws stuffed with prey.

Sandstorm headed for a hollow tree trunk a few fox-lengths from the entrance to the Twoleg nest, among thick growths of fern and long grass. She dropped her fresh-kill just inside the opening. “I’m glad I found this,” she commented. “The prey will keep dry here.”

“And we can stay away from the sick cats,” Berrynose added as he dumped his own catch.

“Foxes might come and steal it,” Whitewing mewed, adding her fresh-kill to the growing pile. “Would it help if we scent-marked the opening?”

“Good idea,” Sandstorm replied. “And we’ll set markers around the edges of the old Twoleg garden. If the foxes think a lot of cats are around here, they might stay away.”

They won’t know the cats are too sick to fight, Lionblaze thought as he led his patrol inside the den with their bundles of moss.

By now the Twoleg nest was looking much more welcoming.

Ashfur had finished dividing up the area into nests separated by branches. The first load of bedding was spread neatly in the nursery area. Brackenfur and Cinderheart were sniffing along the walls, pushing twigs and leaves into any cracks they had missed. Leafpool was there, too, checking for drafts in the nursery area.

“Over here!” she called to Brackenfur. “The wind’s cutting through me like a claw.”

Brackenfur bounded over with a bundle of dry leaves and shoved them into the gap the medicine cat had pointed out.

“Much better.” Leafpool waved her tail approvingly.

Sorreltail showed Lionblaze and the others where to put their moss. “That’s great!” she meowed, flexing her claws into the fresh bedding. “But we still need more.”

“I know.” Lionblaze twitched his whiskers. “We’re on our way.”

Leaving the den, he saw Jaypaw and Mousewhisker approaching from the direction of the camp with bundles of herbs in their jaws. They laid them on a flat stone near the entrance to the den, and Jaypaw separated them neatly into piles.

“Pity there’s no catmint,” he commented to Mousewhisker, loudly enough for Lionblaze to hear. “The sick cats would stand a much better chance if we had some.”

“What about the plants growing here?” Mousewhisker asked.

“I’ve checked,” Jaypaw replied, swinging his head around to glare at Lionblaze from sightless blue eyes. “They’re starting to grow again, but only a tiny bit.”

Guilt stabbed Lionblaze again, sharp as thorns, but he said nothing. He couldn’t explain to Jaypaw why he’d refused to go through the tunnels into WindClan territory. But what if cats die because of your dreams?

Unable to answer the question, Lionblaze raced off into the forest as if a horde of badgers were hard on his paws. But as he headed for the moss place, he knew that he would never outrun his guilt.

The sun was going down, filling the forest with red light barred with dark shadows, as Lionblaze and his patrol returned to the old Twoleg nest once more. He had lost count of how many loads of moss he and his Clanmates had gathered and brought to the nest.