Tallstar’s Revenge

Talltail picked up the fresh-kill and clamped it hard between his jaws to stop himself from responding to any more of Shrewclaw’s barbed comments. I’m a warrior now, he told himself. Things have changed from when we were apprentices. The rabbit bounced heavily against his front legs, making him stumble. So many things had changed, in fact, from Palebird expecting Woollytail’s kits to the tunnels being shut down forever, that Talltail hardly recognized WindClan at all.

Chapter 24

Talltail sat stiffly in his nest. Through its thick, wool lining, he could feel the moor ring with ice; every paw step, every clattering sheep hoof shivered through the frozen earth. His breath billowed up into the clear, black sky as he peered over the frost-wilted grass that edged the moor runners’ nests. Even without the tunnels in use, the warriors still slept in two groups, preferring to keep their own nests for now. But when the next litter of kits passed their final assessment, would they share a single sleeping area?

Talltail pricked his ears, straining to hear the noises from the nursery. Stagleap was fast asleep in the nest beside him. Cloudrunner and Appledawn snored muzzle to muzzle. But Redclaw, Larksplash, and Dawnstripe were sitting up like Talltail, listening as another moan rose from beyond the thick gorse walls of the nursery.

Woollytail paced anxiously outside with Hickorynose next to him. Mistmouse and Plumclaw huddled at the rim of the Meeting Hollow.

“She’ll be fine,” Plumclaw reassured Woollytail as he passed.

Woollytail grunted, the fur rippling along his spine.

“Hawkheart’s with her,” Mistmouse soothed. “He’s done this countless times.”

Hopkit, his black fur sticking up in tufts, scrambled from the elders’ den, where he’d been sent with Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Meadowslip to wait out Palebird’s kitting. “Are they here yet?”

Sorrelkit pushed past her brother. “Hawkheart’s still in there, rabbit-brain. Of course they’re not here yet.”

Talltail jumped out of his nest. He knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep again. Palebird sounded like she was struggling, her groans growing more desperate. Talltail padded toward the elders’ den and stopped beside Hopkit. “These things take time,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself as much as the kit.

Pigeonkit stuck his nose from the den entrance. The white patches on his pelt glowed against his dark gray fur in the moonlight. “Did Meadowslip make all that noise when she kitted us?” he mewed.

Talltail’s ear twitched as a low, agonized wail echoed across the clearing. “I can’t remember,” he lied. Meadowslip’s kitting had been much quieter than this. Was something wrong? His paws pricked with worry.

Meadowslip nudged Pigeonkit out of the way and padded out of the elders’ den. “She’s tougher than you think,” she murmured to Talltail, gazing toward the nursery.

Talltail tipped back his head and looked up at Silverpelt. The ancestors wouldn’t let Palebird lose kits twice, would they?

Lilywhisker slid out behind Meadowslip. Her amber eyes shone in the moonlight. “The first one is always the hardest. Second kits come easier.”

Talltail stood and watched the nursery as Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Hopkit weaved around him.

“We won’t be the youngest anymore!” Hopkit mewed.

“I can’t wait to show the new kits around camp,” Sorrelkit declared.

“It’ll be a few days before they’re allowed out of the nursery,” Meadowslip warned her.

Pigeonkit flicked his tail in the air. “We can teach them how to play Rabbit Run.”

“And show them the Hunting Stones.” Hopkit limped toward the smooth rocks and scrambled onto the highest one.

Talltail remembered one of his earliest days outside the nursery, when Sandgorse had tried to teach him to dig. The memory sent a shiver along his spine. If only he hadn’t fallen into that hole, he might have chosen to be a tunneler from the start. Everything might have been different.

Sparrow would still have come. Talltail stiffened. He would still have persuaded Sandgorse to risk his life in the tunnels. The dark anger that lurked in the pit of his belly wormed up to his throat.

Pigeonkit stared at him. “Why are you growling?”

Talltail blinked. “I was just thinking about something else,” he meowed quickly, shaking out his pelt.

Barkpaw squeezed out of the nursery and followed the rim of the Meeting Hollow toward the medicine den.

Talltail bounded toward him. “How is she?” he demanded, slithering to a stop on the frosty grass in front of the young tom.

“She’s tired.” Barkpaw’s eyes were dark.

Talltail’s belly fluttered. “She will be okay, won’t she?”

“I can’t make any promises.” Barkpaw met his gaze. “But Hawkheart knows what he’s doing. She’s in good paws.” As he hurried away toward the medicine den, Talltail glanced anxiously at the nursery.