Squirrelflight's Hope

“Then what?” The golden warrior’s eyes flashed. “Did you want her to give up being a medicine cat for you? Would you give up being a medicine cat for anyone?” He flattened his ears when Jayfeather didn’t answer. “No. I thought not.”

Jayfeather eyed him angrily. “You didn’t give me chance to finish. I was about to say that I forgave her eventually. Even though I could never love her as a mother after what she’d done, I respected her as a medicine cat and loved her as a Clanmate.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t pretend you loved her any more than I did.”

Lionblaze’s eyes glittered with grief. “I wish I’d loved her more.” His mew was husky. “She deserved to be loved. She was loyal and good and kind.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes pricked. “She was loved.” She got to her paws, wincing at the pain. “I loved her. Her final act was to save a litter of kits. They were the kits of an outsider—a stranger to our land, and to our code. But Leafpool saw every life as important, and she died saving something she cherished most of all—kits.” She glanced at Jayfeather and Lionblaze. “She told me to tell you that she always loved you as your mother and she always will. She only lied to protect you.” Lionblaze looked at his paws. Jayfeather gazed blindly into the gathering darkness as Squirrelflight went on. “She said that she’d never forgive herself for the pain she caused you, but I hope she finds peace in StarClan, because she deserves to be happy.” Night hid her Clanmates in shadow, but she could see their eyes glistening in the moonlight. “Leafpool was the best littermate I could have had. I will miss her so much, but I know that she will always be with me, watching from StarClan.”

As she finished, a breeze sent leaves showering into the clearing. They drifted down, as pale in the moonlight as Leafpool’s amber eyes. Is she sending me a message? Squirrelflight looked at the stars, her heart pricking with hope. Even though Leafpool was in StarClan, Squirrelflight knew she wasn’t very far away.

CHAPTER 29

Squirrelflight nosed her way into the nursery. It had been a long night, and she was stiff from sitting vigil beside Leafpool’s body. Bramblestar had sat with her, pressing close to protect her from the chill. It had felt good to spend the time with Leafpool, to breathe in her scent for the last time and honor her memory with their Clanmates. Bramblestar was helping to bury her now. Squirrelflight had chosen the spot, in a quiet grove where Leafpool had loved to gather thyme.

Daisy sprawled near the nursery entrance, letting Flamekit clamber over her. Quivering with excitement, Finchkit pressed her belly to the ground and, like a warrior stalking prey, watched Daisy’s tail flicking back and forth.

“Squirrelflight!” Flamekit’s happy mew jerked her from her thoughts. The black tom-kit raced toward her and rubbed around her legs, purring.

Finchkit looked up, pricking her ears. “Are you better now?” she asked.

“I am,” Squirrelflight told her.

Flamekit sniffed at the splint on her hind leg. “Why have you got this?”

“It’s to support my leg while it heals.”

“Does it hurt?” Finchkit sniffed the splint too.

“It’s sore, but it’ll improve in a few days.” Squirrelflight glanced across the den. Sparkpelt lay in her nest, her chin hanging listlessly over the edge.

Stormcloud was with her, pushing a mouse a little closer to her muzzle. “Just try a bit,” he murmured. “It might help you feel better.”

Sparkpelt didn’t look at him. “Why would I want that?”

“Your kits need you,” Stormcloud edged the mouse a little nearer.

“I’m feeding them, aren’t I?” Sparkpelt pushed the mouse away.

“Which means you need more food, not less.” Stormcloud’s eyes darkened with worry. “You must be hungry. You hardly ate yesterday.”

Daisy sat up. “He’s been coming every day,” she whispered to Squirrelflight. “Trying to persuade her to eat and cheer her up.” She sighed softly. “I’m beginning to think he’s wasting his time.”

“Does she ever play with the kits?” Squirrelflight asked quietly.

“She only gets out of her nest to make dirt.” Daisy shook her head sadly. “If she doesn’t take an interest in the kits soon, they’re going to think I’m their mother.”

Squirrelflight lifted her chin. What could she say to help Sparkpelt out of her grief? She crossed the den and stopped beside Sparkpelt’s nest. “I thought you might come to the vigil,” she mewed softly, trying to catch Sparkpelt’s eye.

Sparkpelt stared at the ground. “I’ve had enough of vigils,” she growled.

“Let’s hope it’s the last for a while,” Stormcloud meowed darkly.

“Vigils are a part of a warrior’s life,’” Squirrelflight told him briskly. “You can’t wish them away. You have to deal with them as they come.” She looked sternly at Sparkpelt. “You can’t let grief spoil what you still have.”

Sparkpelt didn’t react.

“Your kits are a blessing,” Squirrelflight went on. “You should enjoy them while you can. They’ll be grown before you know it.”