Night Whispers

Paw steps brushed the thin covering of snow only tail-lengths away. There was weight in them, though they were creeping lightly. Dovepaw tensed, jerking her head to scan the shadowy trees. The paw steps quickened. Dovepaw crouched lower as claws scuffed the ground.

“Dovepaw?”

Tigerheart!

“You spooked me!”

“I thought you’d hear me coming.” A purr rumbled in his chest. “You have sharper hearing than any cat I know.”

Too sharp. She’d been listening so hard, she’d missed the one thing she’d been waiting for. She needed to remember that hearing everything was sometimes not as useful as hearing something.

“Dovepaw?” Tigerheart’s eyes were gleaming in the moonlight.

She blinked. “Sorry.” She wasn’t going to let her powers distract her from Tigerheart. He wasn’t going to think of her as anything but an ordinary forest cat.

The warrior nudged her shoulder softly with his muzzle. “Stop apologizing.”

Above them, the waning moon curled like a claw in the sable black sky and bathed the forest with soft light. Tigerheart’s pelt shone beneath it, and Dovepaw felt dazzled by the sight of him.

“Come on.” He headed away.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place where no one will find us.”

Dovepaw hurried after him. He was heading away from the lake, following the ShadowClan border. The land sloped gently upward, and the trees began to thin. She started to get breathless keeping up.

“You’ll love this place,” Tigerheart called back. “No one knows about it except me and Flametail.”

The scents of ThunderClan and ShadowClan were growing fainter. Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. The lake looked like a flattened disc glimmering far away through the trees. “Are we leaving Clan territory?” Excitement prickled in her belly. Was that mountain air she could smell? And what was that musky scent? Her fur pricked as a familiar smell hit her tongue.

Jayfeather.

She stopped and sniffed a low thorny bush. Jayfeather’s scent lingered on the tips of the stems. Lionblaze’s, too. What had they been doing here? She touched a stem with her tongue. The scents were stale. Moons had passed, from the taste of it.

“Hurry up.” Tigerheart paused above her on the slope. Silhouetted in the moonlight, his forepaws planted squarely, his chin high, he looked like a Clan leader.

Dovepaw pushed the thought away. “Coming!” She scrambled up the slope to a clearing. Ahead, a tumbledown Twoleg nest rose like a gray tree stump, smaller than the abandoned nest in ThunderClan’s territory. Half the walls had fallen down, and there was hardly any roof.

“Wow!” Dovepaw raced past Tigerheart and dashed up the pebbly path that led to the den entrance. She stopped where shadows filled the opening and turned back to Tigerheart. “Is it safe?”

Tigerheart nodded.

Dovepaw crossed the smooth rock that spanned the entrance and padded into the den. Moonlight pooled on the stone floor. She looked up and saw the starry sky. Straight wooden beams crisscrossed it. They must have held the roof up when the nest had been whole.

“How did you know about this place?” she called as Tigerheart followed her in.

“Flametail and I found it when we were apprentices.” He leaped up onto a rock jutting above a hole in the wall. “We used to play here.” With a second leap he was balancing on one of the crisscrossing logs. It was flat on each side, and he padded along as though he’d done it countless times before.

Dovepaw leaped up onto the jutting stone, her heart lurching as her paws slipped. Dust showered down while she shuffled to regain her balance. She eyed the log where Tigerheart had walked, judging the distance carefully, then leaped. It creaked as she landed, but the wood was rough and soft enough to sink her claws into. Chest pounding, she steadied herself and gazed down at the floor below.

“It’s not too far down,” Tigerheart called from the other end of the log. “Don’t be scared.” He flicked his tail, then jumped. In a long, arcing leap he seemed to fly from one log to another, landing solidly and turning to blink at Dovepaw. “Now watch this.” Without pausing, he leaped from one log to the next the entire length of the nest, then turned and bounded back as though he were leaping stepping-stones across a stream.

“Be careful!” Dovepaw gasped. With each jump her heart jumped too.

“That’s nothing!” he mewed, landing beside her. He glanced up to where two logs sloped upward and met at a point. Without warning, he reared on his hind legs and leaped, swinging by his claws from a sloping log before hauling himself up and scrambling to the peak.

“Stop it!” Dovepaw could hardly breathe. She couldn’t imagine another cat being so strong and nimble—or brave.

Tigerheart slithered down a sloping log and began springing back toward her. As he landed on a log next to hers, it creaked. The sound sent Dovepaw’s thoughts spinning back to the hollow when the beech—its great trunk groaning and splintering—had toppled into the camp.