Warriors: Power Of Three 5 - Long Shadows (17 page)

“But I can’t be in two places at once,” Leafpool pointed out; she sounded anguished, as if she hated to refuse the hope that Firestar offered.

“You won’t need to be,” Firestar meowed. “I shall look after the sick cats. You can tell me which herbs to use, and keep me supplied without coming too close.”

Sandstorm let out a gusty sigh, fluttering her whiskers.

“This is ridiculous! You’re putting yourself in danger. You need rest just as much as the other sick cats.”

Firestar looked down at her, love glowing from his green eyes. “I have lives to lose; my Clanmates do not. I have to do this, for their sake.”

Murmurs of surprise came from the cats gathered around the fresh-kill pile. Brambleclaw looked up at his leader, then slowly nodded, as if he was making a promise.

“It might work,” Brackenfur remarked.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Cinderheart agreed. “If we don’t do something, every cat will get sick.”

The more Lionblaze thought about Firestar’s suggestion, the more sense he could see in it. The sick cats would have a safe, dry place to stay, and those who were left could look after them better. Leafpool and Jaypaw would have more chance of keeping well. And maybe Jaypaw’s catmint plants at the Twoleg nest would have grown enough to provide some healing leaves.

“There aren’t enough yet,” Jaypaw growled as if Lionblaze had spoken aloud. “We need more! Half the Clan is sick.”

Lionblaze felt as if his littermate’s glare was scorching his pelt. Turning away, he padded over to Hollyleaf.

“Isn’t Firestar great?” she meowed. “I’m so proud he’s our kin. I wonder if I’d have the courage to do what he’s doing.”

Lionblaze touched his nose to her shoulder. “I’m sure you would.” And what about my courage? he asked himself. I should be brave enough to fetch the catmint. But I can’t do it, I just can’t!

On the Highledge, Firestar straightened up and lifted his head. “Let all cats—” His attempt to raise his voice ended in a bout of coughing.

Brambleclaw bounded up to the Highledge and spoke rapidly to his leader. Lionblaze couldn’t hear what they said, and a moment later Firestar staggered back into his den. Brambleclaw looked down at the clearing.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting,” he yowled.

Foxpaw and Icepaw appeared from the elders’ den, each with a bundle of soiled bedding. Mousefur followed them and stalked across to where Sandstorm and Leafpool stood at the foot of the tumbled rocks.

Ferncloud and Squirrelflight emerged from the warriors’

den and padded over to the fresh-kill pile. Berrynose and Graystripe pushed their way out after them, and stayed sitting just outside the den.

Lionblaze’s heart sank to see how few cats answered the summons. So many of the Clan were sick, and the rest of them must be out on patrol.

Brambleclaw began by explaining to the cats who hadn’t heard Firestar’s plan. “We’ll need to collect a lot of moss and bracken—and dried leaves and feathers, anything to keep the sick cats comfortable and warm,” he continued. “Lionblaze and Hollyleaf, you can do that, and take the apprentices with you.”

Lionblaze flicked his tail in acknowledgement of his father’s order.

“Brackenfur, you’re good at mending den walls,” Brambleclaw went on. “Find some warriors to help you, and block the holes in the Twoleg nest so that there aren’t any drafts.”

“Sure, Brambleclaw,” the ginger warrior replied.

“And there’ll need to be a new fresh-kill pile. Sandstorm, you’re best at hunting; can I put you in charge of that?”

Sandstorm gave him a tense nod, her green eyes narrowed as if she was already planning her hunt.

“Leafpool, you’ll need to transport herbs for Firestar to use.

Get another warrior to help you if you have to collect more.”

“I’ll do that,” Leafpool replied. “And every cat should keep a lookout for catmint. It’s just possible there are a few clumps we’ve overlooked.”

Lionblaze could tell that the medicine cat didn’t believe what she was saying, but he knew that they couldn’t ignore even the smallest chance of discovering more of the precious herb. And if we did find some, I wouldn’t feel so guilty anymore.

“Right,” Brambleclaw began. “Then—”

“What about me?” Squirrelflight interrupted, her green eyes blazing a challenge. “You don’t expect me to sit around in camp doing nothing?”

“You’re not fit to leave yet,” Leafpool retorted instantly.

“You’ll leave when our medicine cat says you can,” Brambleclaw told his mate. “But you won’t be doing nothing. As the cats out on patrol come back, you can explain to them what’s happening, and give them jobs to do.”

Squirrelflight hesitated, as if she was going to argue, then gave a reluctant nod, muttering something under her breath as she scraped her claws in the earth.

“Okay, the meeting’s over,” Brambleclaw meowed crisply.

“Let’s get moving.”

Lionblaze beckoned the apprentices with a wave of his tail and led the way to the thorn tunnel with Hollyleaf padding at his shoulder. His paws tingled with urgency; even the apprentices didn’t complain at the task.

“It feels weird.” Hollyleaf was looking worried as they headed deeper into the forest. “The Clan has never been split up like this before.”

“It’s the best way to save lives,” Lionblaze answered.

“There’s nothing about this in the warrior code. Except . . .

we all swear to defend our Clan, so I guess this is one way of doing it.” Her anxious look faded.

Lionblaze led the other cats farther from camp, into a clearing where the moss lay deep and undisturbed.

“Thank StarClan it hasn’t rained lately,” Foxpaw muttered as he tugged a huge swath of moss away from a tree root and started to bundle it up.

“Be careful to squeeze all the water out,” Hollyleaf instructed him. “And dig as deep as you can to find the driest bits.”

“Hey, look what I’ve found!” Icepaw came bounding across the clearing with a bunch of gray-and-white feathers in her jaws. “There’s a whole lot more over there,” she added. “A fox must have killed a pigeon.”

“That’s good,” Lionblaze meowed. “They’ll be soft to lie on. Collect as many as you can.”

When they had as much bedding as they could carry, he and the other cats headed for the Twoleg den. Lionblaze pricked his ears in surprise as they approached. The place that had always been eerily quiet was now swarming with activity like a disturbed ants’ nest.

Poppyfrost bounded past him with a bundle of sticks in her jaws, followed by Birchfall, who was dragging a long tendril of bramble. When Lionblaze reached the entrance to the den, he saw Cinderheart stuffing more bramble into a gap between the stones.

“Great, Poppyfrost,” she meowed as the young tortoiseshell dropped the sticks at her paws. “That’s just what we need.”

“I’ll fetch some more.” Poppyfrost spun around and whisked past Lionblaze, back into the forest.

“Let’s have that moss over here!” Sorreltail called. She was helping Ashfur drag branches into place, separating the floor of the den into separate nests. “Put it there,” she continued, waving her tail toward a wide space at the back of the den, already surrounded by thorns woven together. “That’s going to be the nursery.”

Foxpaw and Icepaw followed Lionblaze and his sister and dropped their bundles in the place Sorreltail had shown them. Both the apprentices stared around uneasily, as if they expected something to leap out at them from the shadows in the corners of the nest. Lionblaze could understand how they felt. The straight lines and hard angles of the Twoleg nest were uncomfortably strange; the floor was hard and cold under his paws and it didn’t feel right to have a solid roof overhead, without gaps for sunlight or moonlight to shine through. That might be why Poppyfrost dashed off so quickly, he thought. Will the sick cats really be able to settle down here?

“Well, why are you standing there?” Sorreltail asked. “Go and fetch us some more moss.” She gave Lionblaze an affectionate prod with her muzzle, softening her sharp tone. “Make sure it’s good and dry, and we’ll need all you can find.”

When Lionblaze and the others returned the second time, he spotted Sandstorm approaching at the head of a hunting patrol. Berrynose and Whitewing followed her; all three cats had their jaws stuffed with prey.

Sandstorm headed for a hollow tree trunk a few fox-lengths from the entrance to the Twoleg nest, among thick growths of fern and long grass. She dropped her fresh-kill just inside the opening. “I’m glad I found this,” she commented. “The prey will keep dry here.”

“And we can stay away from the sick cats,” Berrynose added as he dumped his own catch.

“Foxes might come and steal it,” Whitewing mewed, adding her fresh-kill to the growing pile. “Would it help if we scent-marked the opening?”

“Good idea,” Sandstorm replied. “And we’ll set markers around the edges of the old Twoleg garden. If the foxes think a lot of cats are around here, they might stay away.”

They won’t know the cats are too sick to fight, Lionblaze thought as he led his patrol inside the den with their bundles of moss.

By now the Twoleg nest was looking much more welcoming.

Ashfur had finished dividing up the area into nests separated by branches. The first load of bedding was spread neatly in the nursery area. Brackenfur and Cinderheart were sniffing along the walls, pushing twigs and leaves into any cracks they had missed. Leafpool was there, too, checking for drafts in the nursery area.

“Over here!” she called to Brackenfur. “The wind’s cutting through me like a claw.”

Brackenfur bounded over with a bundle of dry leaves and shoved them into the gap the medicine cat had pointed out.

“Much better.” Leafpool waved her tail approvingly.

Sorreltail showed Lionblaze and the others where to put their moss. “That’s great!” she meowed, flexing her claws into the fresh bedding. “But we still need more.”

“I know.” Lionblaze twitched his whiskers. “We’re on our way.”

Leaving the den, he saw Jaypaw and Mousewhisker approaching from the direction of the camp with bundles of herbs in their jaws. They laid them on a flat stone near the entrance to the den, and Jaypaw separated them neatly into piles.

“Pity there’s no catmint,” he commented to Mousewhisker, loudly enough for Lionblaze to hear. “The sick cats would stand a much better chance if we had some.”

“What about the plants growing here?” Mousewhisker asked.

“I’ve checked,” Jaypaw replied, swinging his head around to glare at Lionblaze from sightless blue eyes. “They’re starting to grow again, but only a tiny bit.”

Guilt stabbed Lionblaze again, sharp as thorns, but he said nothing. He couldn’t explain to Jaypaw why he’d refused to go through the tunnels into WindClan territory. But what if cats die because of your dreams?

Unable to answer the question, Lionblaze raced off into the forest as if a horde of badgers were hard on his paws. But as he headed for the moss place, he knew that he would never outrun his guilt.

The sun was going down, filling the forest with red light barred with dark shadows, as Lionblaze and his patrol returned to the old Twoleg nest once more. He had lost count of how many loads of moss he and his Clanmates had gathered and brought to the nest.

Crossing the hard stone path, Lionblaze saw Leafpool standing in the entrance to the nest with Brambleclaw beside her. They broke off their conversation when they spotted the patrol.

“Well done,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Take that inside, and then you can stop. Everything’s ready.”

Lionblaze led his Clanmates up to the nest, noticing that there was now a well-stocked fresh-kill pile inside the hollow tree. Inside, the nest felt warm and safe, with cozy dens big enough for two or three cats to sleep, and a bigger area for the nursery, lined with the softest moss and feathers. Ferncloud was patting the clumps into place.

Sorreltail waved Lionblaze over to the last space, and spread out the moss and bracken he and the others were carrying.

“All done,” she declared, touching her nose to his. “Thanks, all of you.”

Looking around, Lionblaze saw that most of the healthy cats had gathered in the nest. Brackenfur and Cinderheart both had pelts snagged by thorns and brambles, but their eyes glowed with satisfaction. Poppyfrost was busily licking one of her pads, as if she had a thorn in it. Graystripe was flexing his claws in the moss; Lionblaze guessed he was impatient to get back to Millie. Berrynose had curled up for a snooze in one of the new nests; Hazeltail gave him a sharp prod with one paw.

“Get up, stupid furball!” she hissed. “These aren’t for us.”

“I’ve been working all day,” Berrynose grumbled, rising to his paws and giving his shoulder fur a quick lick to hide his embarrassment.

Leafpool appeared in the entrance, with Brambleclaw just behind her. “Everything’s ready,” she mewed. “We can go back to camp now. But no cat must go inside until our sick Clanmates come out. From now on, we have to stay away from them.”

“What?” Graystripe’s claws worked harder in the moss.

“You mean we can’t help them?”

“Some of them are too weak to make the journey without us,” Brackenfur objected.

“The stronger ones will help the weaker,” Leafpool told him in a tone that warned every cat not to argue. “You know how fast the sickness spreads. We need to stay strong and healthy to provide for ourselves and the ones who are sick.”

“She’s right,” Brambleclaw added from where he stood at the medicine cat’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re doing this, remember?”

There were no more objections, but Lionblaze’s pelt prickled at the thought of sick Clanmates struggling along without help, and from the glances they exchanged he could see that most of the other cats felt the same.

Leafpool led the way back to the camp and vanished into the tunnel through the thorns. Brambleclaw waved his tail to set the rest of the Clan into position on either side, leaving a wide space between to let the sick cats through.

Lionblaze’s belly clenched in pity as they began to emerge: Firestar led the way, his head raised proudly even though he was shaken by a bout of coughing as he padded past. Cloudtail supported Thornclaw, while Dustpelt leaned on Brightheart’s shoulder. Hollow coughs came from the brown tabby; Lionblaze could see every one of his ribs, while his pelt was thin and dull. Ferncloud let out a piteous mew, instinctively starting forward; Birchfall raised his tail to bar her way.