Night Whispers

“Asleep in his den,” Jayfeather told her. “Sandstorm’s watching over him. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

“If only Russetfur hadn’t attacked him.” Briarlight had heard all the gossip from the other warriors. “Then Firestar would be fine, and Lionblaze wouldn’t have killed Russetfur.”

Jayfeather tensed. “Russetfur was too old to be fighting!”

The brambles swished, and Jayfeather breathed the familiar scent of Lionblaze. The warrior padded heavily into the den. “I should have realized that before I attacked her.”

“What else could you do? She was killing Firestar.” Jayfeather shook out his fur and crossed the den to greet his brother. “Is Dovepaw okay?”

“She’s fine,” Lionblaze reassured him. “Still quiet. But fine.”

Dovepaw had returned from the battle shivering and speechless with shock. Jayfeather had offered her thyme, but she’d refused, saying she was just tired. Unlike her Clanmates, who were keen to share every battle move, Dovepaw had sat silently while Jayfeather checked her over, only mentioning when prompted that Lionblaze had saved her from Dawnpelt.

Is it fair to make apprentices fight alongside warriors? Worry for Dovepaw tightened Jayfeather’s belly. Sometimes she seemed so young. At least Ivypaw was okay. She seemed rather pleased with herself, actually. And with only a bruised tail to show for her run-in with ShadowClan’s fiercest warriors.

But she hadn’t mentioned her dream again. The dream she’d blurted out to Firestar where ShadowClan had invaded ThunderClan territory and set the forest streams running with blood. In fact, when Jayfeather had slipped into Ivypaw’s thoughts, it had vanished from her mind. How could she forget a nightmare so vivid that it had sparked the battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan?

Jayfeather turned his blind blue gaze on Lionblaze. “Was it worth it?”

“The battle?” Lionblaze stiffened. “Of course!”

“But to lose two lives over a worthless piece of grass!”

“We’ve sent ShadowClan a message they won’t forget.”

“At what cost?” Jayfeather sighed.

“We must not turn soft now.” Lionblaze’s voice dropped to a whisper as Briarlight’s attention pricked across the den. “Who knows where the next blow might fall?”

Jayfeather’s shoulders sagged as Briarlight began coughing again.

Lionblaze nosed him toward his patient. “We can’t afford to ignore any signs now,” he hissed. “Go on, see to Briarlight. We’ll talk later.”

As his brother swished out of the cave, Jayfeather began massaging Briarlight’s flank with his paws. Her coughing subsided, and she laid her chin on the side of her nest, her breath quickly easing into sleep.

“Is she okay?” Leafpool’s hushed mew sounded at the den entrance. She padded over to Briarlight’s nest.

“A little cooler.” Jayfeather could hear Leafpool scraping cobwebs from her paws. He could tell by the scent that she’d been repatching Cloudtail’s gashes. “How’s Brackenfur’s shoulder?” He was worried that wrenching it back into place might have damaged more than it fixed. “Did you get a chance to look at it?”

“Y-yes.” She hesitated. “What do you think?”

Jayfeather’s belly knotted. In the past, her question would have been a test. Now Leafpool sounded like she really wasn’t sure. Why mumble like a nervous apprentice? It was as though she was frightened of putting a paw wrong. His mind drifted back to when she used to boss him around in this very den. He’d answer back, and she’d snap in return. The air would fizz and crackle as he rebelled against her overcautious fussing.

The memory hurt. He’d known Leafpool in those days; he’d been able to predict her every objection. Since he had found out that she was his mother, he felt as if he didn’t know her at all.

Ignoring her question, he dismissed her. “Will you check on Firestar, please?” He lifted a paw to wash.

Leafpool’s whiskers brushed his toes as she dipped her head. “Of course.”

Stop acting like a mouse! Jayfeather thought indignantly, while he tugged a sprig of thyme from between his claws. The brambles swished, and Leafpool’s pads scuffed away across the clearing.

Jayfeather paused from washing and listened to his Clanmates settling down for the night. Poppyfrost was washing Molekit and Cherrykit inside the nursery. Purdy’s rumbling mew droned in the elders’ nest. Brackenfur was snoring just as Sorreltail had predicted. Blossomfall was fixing her nest in the warriors’ den underneath the fallen beech; perhaps she was trying to make it the way it was before the tree had crashed into the hollow.