Night Whispers

“I need to tell you something,” he whispered to Cinderheart. Wrapping his tail around her shoulders, he led her into the bramble patch beside the medicine den. Ducking between the tangled branches, he beckoned with his tail for her to follow. She crept in after him, eyes wide with curiosity.

“There’s something you need to understand.” Lionblaze stared straight at her. “Something that will reassure you that I won’t ever be hurt.”

She blinked at him.

“I can’t be wounded,” he blurted out.

She snorted. “You’ve certainly been lucky so far.”

“No!” Lionblaze shook his head. “There was a prophecy, many moons ago. It was given to Firestar. It was about cats who’d have more power than any others in all the Clans.”

Cinderheart tipped her head to one side, listening.

“I’m one of them. I’m one of those cats. I can’t get hurt. That’s my power. Not in battle, not with foxes, not by anything.” He stared at her, willing her to understand. To believe what he was saying.

Cinderheart sat back and stared at him. “There’s a prophecy?” she murmured. “About you?”

Lionblaze nodded. She understood!

“And you’ll never get hurt.” Cinderheart glanced at the ointment smears again.

“No.”

“So that you can protect the Clan.”

“Yes.” Lionblaze leaned forward, relieved that she’d taken it all so calmly. “You never need to worry about me again.” He ran his cheek along hers, his heart warming at her scent. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“No!” She jerked away and backed out of the brambles, her eyes glittering with grief. “We can’t do this. I can’t be your mate. Not if StarClan has given you this power.”

Lionblaze’s blood froze. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You have a much greater destiny than me!” Cinderheart whispered. “We can’t do this anymore!” With a wail she turned and fled toward the warriors’ den.

Chapter 14

Jayfeather began to scoop up the herbs littering the den floor. What a waste. He’d used the commonest leaves to patch Lionblaze’s “wounds,” but even nettle stem and tansy would be hard to replace now that the snows had come. Last night, Brightheart and Leafpool had returned with only a few pawfuls of mallow and thyme. It had taken them half a day to find that much.

“Millie!”

Briarlight’s mew jerked Jayfeather back into the present. His mouth watered at the sweet scent of mouse.

“I brought you some fresh-kill.” Millie dropped it beside Briarlight’s nest. “I thought you might be hungry. You ate hardly anything this morning.”

“I told you,” Briarlight muttered. “I’m not hungry.”

Millie began to tear the mouse apart. “Try a morsel.”

“That’s not going to make me hungry,” Briarlight snapped.

“Just eat a little of it,” Millie coaxed.

“I’m not hungry!”

Jayfeather padded to Briarlight’s nest. He touched his nose to her muzzle. It was damp but not warm. She wasn’t running a fever. But her mind was a whirl of worry and guilt.

“Has her chest infection come back?” Millie asked anxiously.

“Leave the fresh-kill with me,” Jayfeather suggested. “I’ll check her over and see if I can persuade her to eat something.”

Millie stayed beside her kit’s nest. “I want to know if she’s okay.”

“Go back to the hollow.” Jayfeather suspected that it would be easier to find out what was troubling the young warrior without Millie hovering. “It’ll give me more room to examine her.”

Millie hesitated.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I know anything,” he promised. He felt reluctance weighing Millie’s paws as she padded out of the den.

“I don’t know why she has to fuss over me so much,” Briarlight huffed as soon as she was gone.

“Don’t you?” Jayfeather didn’t wait for a reply. He leaned forward and sniffed her breath. It was clean and fresh. No sign of infection. He laid a paw on her chest. “Breathe in as deeply as you can.” Her breath was deep and clear.

“So, no appetite, eh?” He sensed stubbornness stiffening her pelt and felt the fierce ache of hunger in her belly.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“What?”

Jayfeather felt surprise flash from the young cat. “You might be able to fool Millie, but not me. Do you really think it’s fair to make her worry just because you’ve gotten it into your head that you don’t deserve food because you can’t hunt?”

“What are you talking about?” Embarrassment glowed hotly from the young warrior.

Jayfeather softened his tone. “I know you think you’re being fair.” He settled down beside her nest. “But it’s not that simple.”

Briarlight turned her head away. “I don’t hunt. I shouldn’t eat.”

“Daisy doesn’t hunt,” Jayfeather pointed out. “Should she starve?”

“She looks after the kits!” Briarlight grunted.

“What about when you keep them amused by playing moss-ball with them while Daisy rests?”

“Any cat could do that.”

“What about Purdy and Mousefur, then?” Jayfeather pressed. “They don’t hunt.”

“They’re old; they’ve hunted enough for the Clan.”

“But they can’t hunt anymore. Why don’t we let them die now?”