Tallstar’s Revenge

“Heatherstar said they were dangerous,” Redclaw agreed.

Tallpaw bared his teeth at the tawny warrior. “Sparrow made him go down there!” he hissed across the clearing. “The nosy rogue wouldn’t stop pestering Sandgorse until he showed him the tunnels! And then he left Sandgorse down there to die!” Rage pulsed like lightning in his paws.

On the other side of the clearing, Sparrow stood up. “I’m sorry your father is dead, Tallpaw. But he told me it was safe when it wasn’t. How was I supposed to know what would happen? I’m no tunneler. I believed him. When the river burst through, I didn’t have time to save him. I barely saved myself.”

“If there was time to save yourself, there was time to save Sandgorse,” Tallpaw snapped. “You left him to die.”

“Enough!” Heatherstar leaped to her paws and marched across the clearing. “The Clan has seen too much grief this moon. Go to your nest, Tallpaw. Words won’t change anything now.”

Tallpaw met her gaze. He was trembling with fury.

“Go,” Heatherstar repeated.

Tallpaw glanced around at his Clanmates. They stared at him, frozen in shock. Prey hung from Cloudrunner’s mouth. Lilywhisker’s eyes were round. Flamepelt sat stiffly beside her. Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Doespring blinked at him like birds lined along a branch. Shrewpaw narrowed his eyes while Barkpaw sat like stone at the entrance to the medicine den.

Whipping his tail, Tallpaw turned and stalked to his nest. He climbed in and thrust his nose under his paw. When sleep came, it was filled with dreams. Mud pressed around him, sucking at his fur; water dragged him through endless tunnels, and in brief flashes of light from somewhere above his head, Tallpaw saw Sandgorse, mouth open, shrieking for help, only to be hauled away by another surge of mud.

“Tallpaw.” Breath touched his ear. Tallpaw jerked up his head. Barkpaw ducked away. “How are you?”

Beyond him, Tallpaw could see the camp through the gorse opening of his den. A bright moon lit the tussocks. “Is it nearly dawn?”

“Not yet.” Barkpaw reached into Tallpaw’s nest. Tallpaw smelled the tang of ointment. “I just want to put some herbs on your wounds,” Barkpaw told him. “Hawkheart’s worried about infection.”

Tallpaw leaned back and let Barkpaw spread the thick paste of herbs onto his grazes. “I had nightmares,” he meowed.

“They’ll pass.” Barkpaw avoided Tallpaw’s gaze.

“I don’t want to sleep again.” The thought of returning to his dreams made Tallpaw’s belly harden.

“You need to rest.” Barkpaw sounded very far away. Even in this half light, Tallpaw could see tiredness shadowing his friend’s eyes. Barkpaw was still wrapped in grief for Brackenwing.

Tallpaw understood. Loneliness jabbed his belly. If only they could share their grief. But Barkpaw seemed too far away. Did he still blame Tallpaw for Brackenwing’s death?

Tallpaw blinked open his eyes in the pale light of dawn, surprised to find that he’d slept again after Barkpaw had left. He peered out from the gorse bush and saw Reedfeather calling patrols for the day.

“Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Doespring,” the deputy ordered, “take Mole hunting with you. Hareflight, Stagleap, and Shrewpaw, check the ShadowClan and Fourtrees border. Dawnstripe and Redclaw, patrol the rest.”

Tallpaw watched his Clanmates charge out of camp while Reena and Bess headed for the elders’ den. “We’ve come to clean out your bedding,” Bess called through the entrance.

Lilywhisker padded out, yawning. “You’ll have to wake the others. Flamepelt’s snoring like a badger.”

Tallpaw hauled himself to his paws, wincing as his scratches stung.

“Stay in your nest.” Hawkheart’s stern growl surprised him. The medicine cat slid into the den. Tallpaw sat down as Hawkheart sniffed his wounds. “There’s infection in your forepaw. I can smell it,” he told Tallpaw. “I’ll dress the wound again. Then stay off it. You’re confined to your nest until it’s healed.”

“I can’t stay here,” Tallpaw argued. “I hate it. I just sleep and have nightmares.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Hawkheart dabbed fresh herbs onto Tallpaw’s wounds. “You have to get well. There’s been too much loss. First Brackenwing, then your father.”

“But—” Tallpaw began to argue but Hawkheart silenced him with a look.

Tallpaw lay back in his nest as the medicine cat left. The low gorse roof seemed to press down on him. His breath quickened in the stale air. Tallpaw longed to be on the moor. He needed to feel the wind lifting his fur, filling his chest. Fear churned in his belly. He couldn’t stay here for days. As his mind spiraled into panic, Sparrow bounded past the den, crossing the tussocks with ease.

Tallpaw sat up. He hardly has a scratch on him. He must have fled the cave-in at the first drop of soil! Weasel-hearted coward!

“Sparrow!” Hickorynose called to the rogue from the prey heap. “Do you want some fresh-kill?”

“Yes,” Sparrow called. “I’m starving.”