Tallstar’s Revenge

Ryestalk climbed out of her nest in the long grass and crunched across the clearing. “You were born on a night just like this, Talltail.” She fluffed out her pelt.

“How do you know?” He didn’t look at her. “You were hardly more than a kit yourself.”

“I was young, but my eyes were open, and my ears worked perfectly.” Ryestalk flicked her tail. “You were a squealer! Stagleap picked you up and put you outside the den one night, just so he could get some sleep.” Her eyes flashed as if she expected him to purr with amusement. When he didn’t, she went on. “Sandgorse heard you and took you straight back in. Poor Stagleap got an ear chewing for being so rabbit-brained.”

The entrance to the medicine den rattled. Barkpaw scurried out with a wad of leaves in his mouth. Talltail wrinkled his nose at the sharp herb tang as the apprentice trotted past.

“Palebird’s lucky to have two medicine cats to look after her,” Ryestalk meowed. “She’ll get through this, Talltail.”

As Barkpaw pushed his way back into the nursery, a shrill, puny mew sounded through the gorse wall. Ryestalk’s eyes lit up. “That’s the first one!”

Hawkheart stuck his head out. “Come in, Woollytail. Meet your first kit.”

Woollytail stared at the medicine cat like he’d just been dropped on the Thunderpath and a monster was headed for him. Hickorynose nudged him toward the gorse den. “Go on,” he urged.

“I won’t know what to do!” Woollytail whispered.

“Just welcome your new kits to WindClan. You’ll be fine.” Hickorynose walked his friend closer to the entrance and watched the tunneler squeeze through the thorny entrance.

Palebird shrieked. Talltail’s heart lurched. A tiny mewling drifted from the nursery. Then there was silence. Talltail held his breath. He heard fur swishing inside. Hawkheart was murmuring to Barkpaw. Woollytail’s strained mew was quickly hushed. The tunneler slid out of the nursery, his eyes wide and glittering. Talltail rushed toward him, shouldering past Appledawn, Ryestalk, and Hickorynose as they clustered around for news.

“Is Palebird all right?” Talltail begged.

“She’s great.” Woollytail met Talltail’s gaze. “Come and meet your brothers and sisters.”

Weak with relief, Talltail followed Woollytail into the nursery. Barkpaw scooted to the edge to make room as they squeezed in.

Hawkheart lifted his head from Palebird’s nest. “She’s very tired,” he warned them.

Just enough moonlight filtered through the gorse for Talltail to make out his mother sprawled in her nest, her pelt wet and ruffled, and her eyes glazed. Four tiny shapes squirmed at her belly. Talltail crept closer, his nose wrinkling at the pungent scent of herbs and newborn kits. Woollytail crouched at Palebird’s head and started licking her ears.

Hawkheart stood up with a grunt and headed for the entrance. “She’ll be back on her feet in a day or two,” he pronounced. “Don’t keep her awake too long.”

Palebird stared at him in dismay. “You can’t leave! How am I going to feed all these kits? There are so many!”

“There are only four, and they’ll do the work,” Hawkheart told her briskly. “You just have to lie still.”

“What if I don’t have enough milk?”

“Of course you will.” Hawkheart slid from the den. “Come on, Barkpaw,” he meowed over his shoulder. “Palebird can manage without us now.”

Palebird gazed up at Woollytail with anxious eyes. “Will I really be able to look after them?”

“Of course.” Woollytail lapped her cheek fondly. “You’ll be a fine mother with these little ones, just like you were with Talltail.”

Talltail’s heart felt as if something was squeezing. He gazed down at the kits, trying to make one out from another as they huddled together. “Have you named them?”

“Not yet,” Woollytail told him. “Palebird’s too tired.”

The kits had better get used to that, Talltail thought bitterly.

The smallest kit—a black tom, his pelt still slick from his kitting—began to climb the side of the nest, hauling himself up with his tiny claws. Talltail reached in and grasped him gently by the scruff. Stay warm, little one. He swung him toward Palebird’s belly.

“Careful!” she snapped. “You’ll hurt him!”

Stinging as though Palebird had raked his muzzle, Talltail laid the kit beside his littermates. He backed away. “I was just helping.” Grief hollowed his belly as he slid from the den.

Barkpaw was waiting outside. “They’re perfectly healthy,” he meowed, as if he thought Talltail was still concerned.

“Good.” Talltail headed for the entrance, his heart aching.

“Where are we going?”

We? Talltail glanced at his friend. It felt like a long time since Talltail had heard Barkpaw say we. “I’m going to feel the wind in my fur.” He fixed his eyes on the gap in the heather. “Do you want to come with me?” He braced himself for Barkpaw to make excuses and return to his den. “You must be tired,” Talltail prompted. The moon was sinking, which meant dawn was close, but there was time for Barkpaw to rest before his morning duties. “Hawkheart probably has a busy day planned for you.”