Tallstar’s Revenge

“He won’t die!” Talltail growled. “He can’t! Not like this. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Life isn’t fair. Jake’s words rang in his ears.

Shrewclaw shuddered, another groan escaping his lips. Talltail pressed his paws against Shrewclaw’s wounds. Blood ran over his fur. “It won’t stop!”

“Wormcat?” Shrewclaw rasped weakly. “Avenge Brackenwing for me.”

“You can avenge her yourself!” Talltail gasped. “Don’t die, Shrewclaw. There are too many battles to fight.”

Shrewclaw twitched, his eyes rolling, then fell still.

Hareflight’s shoulders drooped. “Shrewclaw.” The word came out as a sob. Trembling, the brown warrior leaned forward and closed Shrewclaw’s eyes with a soft lap of his tongue. “You were a good apprentice,” he murmured. “And a great warrior. WindClan honors you.”

Talltail turned away, his gaze blurring. This battle had been fought over rabbits—and now Shrewclaw was dead. Were ShadowClan’s warriors so hungry they were willing to kill for stolen prey, or did their hatred for WindClan run deeper than he’d ever imagined?

Chapter 44

Talltail stretched, enjoying the warmth of the newleaf sun on his pelt. Beside him the heather was bright with green bud. Overhead, a blue sky stretched, cloudless, across the moor. In another half moon, the gorse would be aflame with yellow flowers.

He could hear Hopkit purring outside the medicine den as Hawkheart picked fleas from the young tom’s spine. Hopkit was well enough to groom his own pelt and should have moved back to the nursery by now. His fever had healed in the moon since the battle with ShadowClan, but the nursery was overcrowded. Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit were too big to share a nest, Meadowslip was restless, and Ryestalk had just moved in, her belly swelling with the promise of new kits.

“Sit still,” Hawkheart growled, cracking a flea between his teeth and spitting it onto the grass.

“Hawkheart?” Hopkit rolled lazily over. “If Heatherstar says I can’t become a warrior, do you think I could be a medicine cat?”

“No.” Hawkheart sat up. “You’re too fidgety.” He gazed across the clearing to where Barkface was making sure that Dawnstripe’s battle wounds had properly healed. “Besides, WindClan doesn’t need another medicine cat.”

Hopkit held up his paw. Although the infection had gone, his foot was limp and flat, and he had no feeling in it. “But how can I be a warrior with this?”

“You can walk on it, can’t you?” Hawkheart wasn’t giving a drop of sympathy.

“I can limp.”

Hawkheart snorted. “If you can limp, you can walk. If you can walk, you can hunt.”

“What about fighting?” Hopkit persisted. “What if I can’t fight?”

“Then you’ll just have to argue your enemies to death.” Hawkheart settled onto his side and half closed his eyes. “You’re great at arguing.”

“No, I’m not.”

Talltail’s whiskers twitched. He wondered if Hawkheart was mellowing now that gray whiskers were showing on his muzzle. But he suspected it was Hopkit’s warmth that had thawed the stern, old medicine cat.

Barkface headed across the clearing. Talltail sat up as he neared. “Is Dawnstripe okay?”

“She’s fine. An extra scar on her muzzle, but it’s healed cleanly.” Barkface settled down beside Talltail, narrowing his eyes against the bright sun. “I’m worried about Reedfeather’s shoulder, though,” he mewed. “The battle made it worse and he’s not getting any younger. If he strains it again, he could be lame for life.”

Talltail gazed across the Meeting Hollow to where the WindClan deputy lay beside Heatherstar, sharing a plover. Reedfeather’s pale tabby pelt looked as ragged as an elder’s. Talltail felt a pang of sorrow for the old warrior. He’d served his Clan loyally for moons. He deserved to be leader one day, but he’d never survive for another eight lifetimes.

The heather shivered as Palebird padded into the camp. A mouse hung from her jaws. Wrenkit looked up from where she was stalking Flykit behind the Hunting Stones. She bounded toward her mother. “Is that for us?”

Flykit chased after her, Bristlekit and Rabbitkit popping up from the grass and scrambling over the tussocks. Palebird dropped the mouse at Wrenkit’s paws. Wrenkit hooked it toward her with a claw. “Don’t worry, Palebird,” she told her mother earnestly. “I’ll make sure everyone gets a fair share.”

“You’re a good little warrior,” Palebird purred, before heading toward Talltail.

Talltail lifted his chin. “Hello, Palebird,” he meowed. “Good hunting?”

Palebird licked her lips. “Very good.”

Talltail was pleased to see Palebird catching her own prey again. She seemed a lot more cheerful now that she had begun to leave the camp to hunt.

Woollytail called to her from the bracken patch. “Did you bring something back for me?”

Palebird looked at him fondly. “Catch your own prey, you old badger! I’m already feeding four mouths.”

Woollytail flicked his tail happily but didn’t move from his nest.

“Do you think he misses the tunnels?” Talltail asked his mother.