Squirrelflight's Hope

Graystripe stuck his head through the entrance. “Are you going to patch up that roof?”

“Of course,” Squirrelflight told him.

“She’s going to patch it up!” Graystripe called over his shoulder to Millie, who was lying outside in the sunshine.

“She’s going to what?” croaked Millie. The old she-cat was growing increasingly deaf.

“Patch it up!” Graystripe yowled.

“Who with?” Millie sounded confused. “Has she been quarreling again?”

Alarm flashed in Squirrelflight’s chest. Did the Clan know about her spat with Bramblestar? They must have noticed she hadn’t slept in his den last night.

“The roof!” Rolling his eyes, Graystripe headed outside.

Squirrelflight shifted her paws self-consciously. She was deputy as well as Bramblestar’s mate. She couldn’t appear at odds with the leader. Bramblestar had been right when he’d said that they must show a united front, and not just to the other Clans. Their own Clan should feel their relationship was strong. A quarrel between a leader and deputy could send ripples through the whole Clan.

Brackenfur twitched his tail. It jerked her from her thoughts. “When will the work start?” He was still staring at the roof.

“I’ll ask Dewnose and Thriftpaw to start work on it as soon as they get back from training.”

“Thanks.” Brackenfur padded to his nest and settled into it. “It’s been good to let sunshine into the den, but we can smell leaf-fall coming, and Cloudtail worries about Brightheart getting cold.”

“We’ll pad all the walls,” Squirrelflight promised. “It’ll be as warm as a mouse nest in here.”

She ducked outside, nodding to Millie and Graystripe as she passed them, and glanced around the camp. Bramblestar was sunning himself on the Highledge with Thornclaw. She didn’t look at him, afraid to catch his eye. She’d avoided him since she’d woken at dawn. Her grief had eased with sleep, and common sense had returned on waking. Of course Bramblestar loved her, and if he wanted kits less than she did, at least he’d been honest with her. She knew she’d overreacted. Why should he want exactly the same things that she did? And yet she still wasn’t ready to speak to him. She’d assigned herself to the dawn patrol and then gone hunting.

But she couldn’t stay out of camp all day, and it was sunhigh now. There were no more chores until dusk patrol. Hesitating at the edge of the clearing, she looked for something to keep her busy. Hollytuft and Flippaw were back from training, nosing eagerly through the fresh-kill pile. Jayfeather and Alderheart were heading out of camp, Jayfeather leading the way as usual despite his blindness. Outside the nursery, Daisy was chatting to Lilyheart and Rosepetal, while Rosepetal’s apprentice, Bristlepaw, nosed about in the ferns at the edge of the camp, clearly looking for mice. Squirrelflight wondered if it was time Daisy moved to the elders’ den. It must be lonely in the nursery. But she was such a help to expectant queens. What if a warrior announced she was having kits? No one should have to sleep in the nursery alone. A pang of grief jabbed Squirrelflight’s heart. I should be there by now. Her thoughts quickened. How could she have kits now that she knew that Bramblestar didn’t want them? He does want kits! she corrected herself. Just not as much as I do.

But it hadn’t been just the kits he’d been upset about. She’d contradicted him in front of the others. But they were close to fighting! Squirrelflight flicked her tail indignantly. And I have a right to my own opinion. Her plan for SkyClan could be the perfect solution. She couldn’t have held her tongue even if she’d wanted to. Bramblestar had implied that a good deputy would have kept quiet. She shook out her pelt. Was that what Bramblestar thought—that she wasn’t a good deputy? Hurt sharpened its claws on her heart once again. She closed her eyes. Chasing thoughts like this wasn’t going to help her feel better.

“Bristlepaw! Flippaw! Look what I caught!” Thriftpaw’s mew surprised Squirrelflight, and at his littermate’s call, Flippaw looked up from the mouse he was eating. Bristlepaw stuck her head out of the ferns, her eyes wide.

The dark gray she-cat was standing at the camp entrance, Dewnose beside her and a small rabbit at her paws.

Bristlepaw dashed from the ferns and skidded to a halt beside her sister. “It’s almost as big as you!” She sniffed excitedly at the rabbit as Flippaw hurried over.

“Did you catch it by yourself?” Flippaw looked impressed.

Thriftpaw glanced at her paws. “Not exactly by myself.”

Dewnose purred beside her. “Thriftpaw tracked it and caught it. I just helped with the killing bite.”

“Can we eat it now?” Thriftpaw asked.

“Put it on the fresh-kill pile and take something smaller,” Dewnose told her. “We can share the rabbit later with the elders.”