River Of Fire

Dawn light was filtering through the bramble screen when Alderheart struggled out of his nest and went to check on Briarlight. Even before he reached her, he knew that something was badly wrong. He could hear her irregular, rasping breaths, interspersed with spasmodic retching sounds.

“Briarlight, why didn’t you call me?” he asked as he reached her side.

Briarlight fought to raise her head and look at him, and with a pang of fear Alderheart realized how weak she was—much worse than when her Clanmates had carried her into the den the day before.

“I didn’t want . . . to be a nuisance,” she gasped, every word an effort.

She’s dying . . . , Alderheart thought.

Briarlight seemed to know what was happening. Her face was peaceful; her eyes were shining as if she was already gazing into the sunlit glades of StarClan’s territory.

“It’s . . . okay, Alderheart,” she gasped. “But I’d like to say good-bye.”

Alderheart nodded swiftly and went to wake Velvet, shaking her urgently by the shoulder.

Velvet started up immediately. “What is it?” she asked.

“Briarlight is dying,” Alderheart murmured. “Please go and find a Clan cat to fetch her kin.”

Velvet’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no . . .” Then she rose to her paws and slipped silently out of the den.

Alderheart went on to wake Jayfeather and gave him the same terrible news. For a few heartbeats Jayfeather sat frozen, as if he hadn’t taken in what Alderheart was telling him.

“She’s dying, Jayfeather,” Alderheart repeated.

“Nonsense. I won’t allow her to die,” Jayfeather snapped.

Rising to his paws, he blundered to the back of the den. So clumsy . . . , Alderheart thought, reflecting how ordinarily no cat would even think that Jayfeather was blind, his movements were so neat. He knows we’re losing her, even if he won’t admit it.

He watched Jayfeather soak some moss in the water that trickled down the rock and take it to Briarlight to drink. Then in his turn he slipped out into the open and headed for the tumbled rocks that led to Bramblestar’s den.

In the gray dawn light the camp was rousing; Squirrelflight stood outside the warriors’ den as if she had begun to arrange the dawn patrols, but all the warriors were clustered around Velvet as she passed on the news. Alderheart heard Millie let out a heartrending cry that echoed around the stone hollow, and saw Graystripe press himself close to her side.

Bramblestar was awake when Alderheart reached his den. Alderheart thought Millie’s cry must have roused him. At once he leaped to his paws, alert and sliding out his claws. “Is there trouble?” he asked.

“Not the kind you mean,” Alderheart replied. “It’s Briarlight. She has the sickness, and she’s dying.”

Bramblestar’s amber eyes filled with sorrow. “I knew this would happen someday. She’s lived a long time with terrible injuries,” he mewed. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

He led the way down into the camp and moved among the huddled groups of his warriors, listening to their grief. Glancing around, he spotted Larksong and beckoned him over with his tail.

“Leafpool should be here,” he told the young warrior. “Fetch her, please—try the ShadowClan camp first. It’s closer than RiverClan.”

Larksong nodded and hurried off, pausing at the apprentices’ den to collect Finpaw.

Alderheart left Bramblestar to talk with his Clanmates and returned to the medicine cats’ den. Graystripe, Millie, Blossomfall, and Bumblestripe were already there. Millie was crouching beside her daughter, gently licking her ears, while the rest of the family clustered around them.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Graystripe murmured to Alderheart. “She was always so strong, so brave . . .”

“I’m surprised she weakened so quickly,” Alderheart responded. “I think she must have been hiding how bad she felt.”

She hasn’t been eating enough, he added to himself, seeing Briarlight’s ribs sliding beneath her fur as she struggled to breathe. And it’s harder for her to fight the sickness because she can’t move.

Alderheart wasn’t sure how long he sat in the medicine cats’ den, listening to Briarlight’s gradually fading breath. At one point Leafpool slipped in quietly and sat beside Jayfeather, wrapping her tail around her son’s shoulders.

Later Twigpaw appeared, meowing, “Alderheart, do you—” as she brushed past the bramble screen, then falling silent as she realized how weak Briarlight had become. She crept closer to the dying cat.

“Oh, Briarlight. Good-bye,” she whispered. “You were so kind to me when I was a kit.”

Briarlight’s eyes fluttered open, and she blinked affectionately at Twigpaw. “We had . . . some good times,” she rasped.

Millie pressed even closer to her daughter. “Oh, precious one, don’t leave us,” she mewed, her voice quivering. “Please don’t leave us.”