Night Whispers

“Mmm, prey.” Graystripe licked his lips and ducked back out of sight. Hazeltail shook out her fur and padded through the thorns to join him outside.

Cinderheart eyed Lionblaze. “Shall we go and check?”

Lionblaze hesitated. “It’ll be freezing in the forest.”

Cinderheart shrugged. “A run will warm us up.”

“But it’s the middle of the night.” He didn’t want to share his unease with her. And what if there was something there? He felt a protective surge rise in his chest. “You stay here. I’ll check.”

Cinderheart’s eyes flashed in the moonlight. “I’m not a kit!”

Flustered, Lionblaze flicked his tail. “I didn’t mean—”

Cinderheart marched past him. “And I’m not going to stand here till my paws freeze to the ground!”

Lionblaze sighed as she stalked toward the camp entrance. If Cinderheart was going to be stubborn, there was nothing he could do about it.

He followed her to the barrier. “We’d better be on the lookout for ShadowClan,” he warned. “They might still have a taste for ThunderClan blood.”

Cinderheart glanced back at him sharply. “You think?” She pushed her way through the tunnel.

Lionblaze snorted, annoyed with himself. She was right; he was treating her like a kit.

“Where are you two going?” Graystripe challenged as they emerged from the wall of thorns.

“Can’t sleep,” Cinderheart explained.

“Be careful,” Hazeltail cautioned.

“We won’t stay out long.” Lionblaze’s breath billowed in front of him. “It’s too cold.” He followed a narrow path through the frosty bracken and up through the trees.

At the top of the hollow, they emerged from the forest into moonlight. Lionblaze sniffed at the grass edging the cliff top. It was limp with frost, and he could smell nothing but frozen leaves and ice.

“Are you okay?” Cinderheart’s mew was hushed with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“About Russetfur.” Cinderheart tipped her head to one side. “About her dying.”

Lionblaze stiffened. “About me killing her, you mean?”

“You had to save Firestar.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Lionblaze turned back to the grass, following the glittering stalks around the hollow’s edge toward a fallen branch. He could only smell ThunderClan scents. No sign of intruders, or prey.

“You have to talk about it,” Cinderheart persisted. “Every other cat will be talking about it. You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“It shouldn’t have happened!” The words burst from Lionblaze, anger flooding quickly after. He sprang onto the fallen branch and turned on his Clanmate. “I never meant to kill her!” He tore at the bark, ripping chunks out with his claws. “I was just trying to save Firestar! But I didn’t even manage to do that. He still lost a life!”

Cinderheart flinched from the spray of splinters. “You did save Firestar.” Her voice was firm. “Who knows what Russetfur would’ve done next? She might have taken all his lives.”

Why was she making him remember? He was suddenly back in the battle, Russetfur struggling in his grip as he tried to rip her from Firestar. He shuddered as he felt her grow limp beneath his claws. Why had StarClan let him kill her?

Cinderheart kept pushing. “Every warrior knows they might die in battle. Why are you so upset? Are you afraid ShadowClan will retaliate?” Her dark blue eyes reflected the stars. “Why should they? Death happens. Clans have more to worry about than losing a warrior.”

“She was their deputy!” Lionblaze snapped.

Cinderheart met his gaze. “She was old.”

Lionblaze’s anger weakened its grip. He was suddenly sorry he had let his temper get the better of him. “A true warrior doesn’t kill to win,” he murmured. “Remember the code?”

Cinderheart blinked, her pelt smoothing, then turned and stared into the trees as though watching a thought drift into the forest. “Maybe times are changing,” she breathed.

Lionblaze stiffened. “No!”

Cinderheart shifted her paws.

“What do you mean?” Lionblaze pressed. “The warrior code is the same as it always was. How can something that important to all the Clans change?”

Cinderheart shrugged. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Lionblaze felt his pelt start to prickle. Had Dovepaw given something away about the prophecy?

“Something…” Cinderheart seemed to be searching for the right words. “Something feels different. The battle was so vicious—too vicious for a fight over boundaries—almost as if it was just the beginning of something much worse.” Her eyes were round, dark pools.

Lionblaze stared at her. Was she the only cat to feel this way? He was used to the prophecy: There will be three who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. He’d known for moons that ancient enemies were stirring. The Clans were on the edge of darkness. The knowledge colored every moment for him now; it shaped every thought. But the rest of the Clan must be protected from knowing. It was more than they could comprehend, more than they could cope with, however hard they trained, however much they believed in the warrior code.