Night Whispers

Briarlight twitched in her nest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Jayfeather told his patient quickly, knowing exactly what was troubling the young apprentice. “Follow me.” He nudged her out of the den. “I need to check on Firestar. His wounds may need re-dressing.”

“I know about Ivypaw,” Dovepaw hissed as soon as they were clear of the brambles. “She’s training with the Dark Forest warriors.”

“Keep your voice down!” Jayfeather spat.

“But we have to do something!”

Jayfeather winced as a stray beech twig jabbed his foreleg. “Like what? Order her not to go? Do you think she’ll listen?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Fear edged Dovepaw’s mew.

Jayfeather steered her to the side of the clearing. “Look,” he breathed. “She’s made her choice. Perhaps we should just keep an eye on her and see what she does. We might be able to learn something about our enemy.”

“Ivypaw’s not our enemy!” Dovepaw sounded desperate. “She’s my littermate. I can’t let this happen to her. StarClan knows what Tigerstar will do to her!”

“I’m not going to stand here and discuss this with you,” Jayfeather growled, then turned as the thorn barrier rustled. Mousewhisker, Toadstep, and Rosepetal were pushing their way through, warming the air with the scent of fresh prey. “Not here. Not now.” He began to pad toward the warriors’ den. “Go help your Clanmates. There’s plenty to do.”

He left Dovepaw standing in a haze of bewildered fear and headed for Highledge. I’ll talk to her later, he told himself. When we have a chance to go into the forest, away from pricked ears and curious eyes.

From the scents drifting from the fresh-kill pile, Mousewhisker’s patrol had brought back thrush, vole, and pigeon.

“We’re going to have to dig this prey-hole deeper,” Millie meowed.

“Not till I’ve had something to eat.” Soil crumbled as Birchfall hopped out of the hole.

“Mousewhisker!” Cherrykit’s mew sounded from the entrance. “You left this behind!”

Jayfeather heard fur brush the earth by the barrier of thorns. Cherrykit and Molekit were dragging something heavy into the hollow.

“A squirrel!” Birchfall licked his lips and bounded toward the pair of kits. “Did you catch it yourselves?” he teased.

“We found it outside,” Molekit explained. “Mousewhisker’s patrol must have dropped it.”

“We didn’t catch a squirrel.” Mousewhisker’s puzzled mew rang from the fresh-kill pile.

Poppyfrost came hurrying from the dirtplace tunnel. “What were you two doing outside camp?” she scolded. “And in weather like this!”

“We’re going to need two prey-holes at this rate,” Millie commented as Birchfall carried the squirrel across the clearing.

As Jayfeather climbed the rocks to Highledge, Sandstorm poked her head out of Firestar’s den.

“How is he?” Jayfeather asked, reaching the top.

“Tired, and complaining about staying in his nest.”

Jayfeather squeezed past her into the small cave. The ThunderClan leader yawned and sat up. The wound at his throat smelled clean and dry.

“Does it hurt?” Jayfeather touched the gash gently with his nose tip, feeling for warmth and swelling. The fur was stiff with dried blood, but the flesh beneath felt healthy and soft.

Firestar pulled away. “I’ll let you know if it does.” He shook out his sleep-flattened fur. “Is Brambleclaw back?”

Sandstorm answered. “Not yet.”

“I hope the border marking went well,” Firestar growled. “I want ShadowClan to know for sure what is now ours.”

Jayfeather’s tail twitched. He thinks we were just two Clans fighting over a piece of territory.

“Jayfeather?” Firestar sounded tense. “Is there something you want to say?”

Should I tell him about Ivypaw? That the cat who persuaded him to fight for the Twoleg clearing is being trained by Dark Forest warriors? Surely the ThunderClan leader should be warned that dreams and signs no longer came only from StarClan?

No. We can manage this alone.

“They’re back!” Sandstorm turned quickly and slipped out of the cave. “Brambleclaw and Dustpelt!”

The rocks clattered as she bounded down to the clearing. Squeezing past Jayfeather, Firestar followed. Jayfeather listened from Highledge as Brambleclaw, Dustpelt, and their patrols halted below him. He could smell the scents of frost and forest rising from their pelts, and the faint tang of ShadowClan lingering on their paws.

“Are the markers set?” Firestar asked his deputy.

“Ours are,” Brambleclaw answered.

Dustpelt stepped forward. “ShadowClan hasn’t set their scent line yet.”

Millie trotted over from the prey-hole. “They’re refusing to acknowledge the new border!” she declared indignantly.

“They have to acknowledge it!” Leafpool had left her work on the warriors’ den to listen in.

“They don’t have to do anything,” Birchfall pointed out.