Squirrelflight's Hope

Bumblestripe and Eaglewing pelted after her. They scrambled over the crossing stones that spanned the stream and raced into the trees toward their quarry. The rabbit squealed in panic as it saw them and fled for cover. But Bumblestripe was fast. With one leap, he crossed the stretch between hunters and prey and pinned the rabbit to the ground. He killed it with a bite before Eaglewing and Plumstone reached him.

Squirrelflight watched them as they took turns sniffing the juicy fresh-kill, their pelts fluffed with excitement. Her Clanmates were clearly happier hunting in the forest. She rubbed her cheek on another branch and padded back to the stream. Bramblestar would have to remind his warriors to keep the markers on this border fresh. If they didn’t make this land their own, there might come a day when the WindClan scent markers on this stretch of land wouldn’t be stale anymore.

“It won’t feel like a real Gathering.” Squirrelflight glanced at the night sky as she padded beside Bramblestar. “There’s no full moon.”

“It’s not a real Gathering,” Bramblestar reminded her. “Just a meeting of the leaders and deputies.”

Beside them, the lake lapped sluggishly over the shore. Beneath Squirrelflight’s paws, the pebbles were still warm from the day’s heat. She looked anxiously toward the island. Silhouettes moved across the tree-bridge. She couldn’t make out who they were. She tasted the air but smelled only moorland scents and remembered her patrol with Bumblestripe, Plumstone, and Eaglewing. Did Harestar want to challenge the markers they’d left? Surely he couldn’t complain. It was ThunderClan land now. “Why did Harestar call the meeting?”

“Emberfoot didn’t say.” The WindClan warrior had visited the ThunderClan camp while she’d been resting after her patrol. “He just brought the message. Harestar wants to talk.” Bramblestar moved closer, letting his flank brush hers. “The moon may not be full, but it’s very bright tonight.” He glanced at her affectionately. “It’s nice to be alone.”

She leaned against him. “I can’t remember the last time it was just us.”

“Do you remember when this territory still felt new?”

She did. “You’d just been made deputy.”

“We used to sneak out and explore after the camp had gone to sleep.”

Squirrelflight purred. “You were terrible at sneaking. I don’t know why we were never caught.”

“Probably because I was deputy,” Bramblestar whispered.

“More likely because our denmates were kind and pretended not to hear us. Even Dustpelt, and he was always a stickler about young warriors getting enough sleep.” Happiness warmed her pelt as she remembered her old mentor. It seemed countless moons since she’d been his apprentice. How young she’d been without realizing it. Recalling suddenly how she and Leafpool had planned great futures for themselves, she glanced self-consciously at her paws. I guess we haven’t done so badly. She didn’t feel old yet, but it had been a long time since she’d felt the rush of excitement she used to feel in her first moons as a warrior, whenever she was picked to go on patrol or attend a Gathering. She pressed closer to Bramblestar. “Do you miss being young?”

He shrugged. “I miss being irresponsible. Back then, the only thing we had to worry about was our next hunt. That was before we became leader and deputy, and before we had kits to look after.”

Squirrelflight felt a pang of longing. Sparkpelt and Alderheart were grown, and she’d never had a chance to know their littermates, Juniperkit and Dandelionkit, who had died. She’d been hoping to have a new litter by now—tiny kits to nurture and love. But they’d had no luck. “Having kits didn’t make me feel old. I liked the responsibility. It’ll be good to feel that way again.” She glanced hopefully at Bramblestar. When he didn’t comment, she prompted him. “Don’t you think?”

“Of course.” He didn’t look at her.

Anxiety prickled beneath her pelt. She’d wanted him to sound more enthusiastic about kits. “Let’s pretend we’re young again now. It’s almost like we’re sneaking out of camp.” Squirrelflight kept her mew light. “Half the Clan are already in their nests, and the rest will be asleep by the time we get home.”

“I wish we could.” Was that a sigh in Bramblestar’s mew? “But we can’t be late for the meeting. And we have to go straight back to camp afterward; Birchfall and Lionblaze will be waiting to find out what happened.”

He was worrying about the Clan again. He was a good leader; he always put his Clan before his own needs. But she couldn’t help wishing he could put her first this time. Disappointment jabbed at her heart as their moment of closeness passed, but she ignored it and focused on the meeting. “Surely Harestar can’t have anything serious to talk about. It’s been peaceful since the storm. It finally feels normal to have SkyClan with us beside the lake, and the other Clans seem happy with the new borders.”

“Then why call a meeting?” Bramblestar meowed.

“There could be sickness, or Twoleg trouble.”