Dovewing's Silence

  “I hope this works,” Bumblestripe muttered. Dovewing rested her tail-tip on his shoulder. I hope so too.

  Bramblestar nodded to the five cats. “Come,” he invited, walking down the rocks until he stood in the clearing. The warriors lined up in front of them. Bramblestar looked nervous for the first time, and Dovewing realized that nothing had been decided about the form this ceremony should take. How would Bramblestar know what to say?

  “Warriors of ThunderClan,” he began, “only you know the true reason you let yourself be persuaded to join the Dark Forest cats. That reason, whatever it was, no longer matters. The only thing of importance is that you are loyal to ThunderClan and to the warrior code, to the exclusion of everything else. Whatever might be promised to you,” he added with a note of stone in his voice.

  The five cats nodded. Bramblestar thought for a moment, then continued. “Repeat after me: I am a true warrior of ThunderClan, loyal to my Clanmates and to the code from this moment forward until it is my time to join StarClan.”

  Birchfall started speaking first, then the others joined, a little clumsily and bristling with discomfort. Dovewing felt a stab of indignation that Ivypool had to swear along with the others. She had risked her life spying on the Dark Forest! What greater proof of her loyalty did Bramblestar need?

  When the cats had stumbled to the end of the oath, Bramblestar swished his tail. “Let that be an end to the divisions within this Clan,” he declared. “You all know what you have to do to make ThunderClan strong again. Carry on, and may StarClan light your path.” He twitched his ears as a signal for the meeting to break up. Most cats headed back to their dens to wash and sort out patrols, but a few stayed clustered in a group, Berrynose and Dustpelt among them.

  “Are we really supposed to forgive and forget?” Berrynose protested. “If they hadn’t given away all our secrets, the Dark Forest might never have attacked!”

  Dovewing couldn’t believe that any of her Clanmates would think this was true, but Poppyfrost was nodding. “Those cats need to prove they can be trusted,” she growled. She glanced around fearfully as if she thought Birchfall might be inviting Dark Forest cats into the camp at that very moment.

  Dustpelt leaned forward and said something Dovewing couldn’t hear. She curled her lip in anger. My ears! She felt a physical pain inside her head. What is wrong with me? She had to speak with Lionblaze and Jayfeather, find out if they were losing their powers too. She spotted Lionblaze walking toward her and opened her mouth to ask if she could speak with him alone. Then Cinderheart bounded across the clearing.

  “Lionblaze! I told you to rest today! You can’t go out on patrol until your claw heals.”

  Dovewing realized that Lionblaze was limping, favoring the paw that had been injured while digging. “It’s fine,” he growled. “Stop bugging me about it.”

  Cinderheart narrowed her eyes. “Don’t take it out on me,” she warned, flicking her tail. “You should see Jayfeather if it’s infected.”

  “I don’t have time now,” Lionblaze grunted. “We have to hunt while the weather holds.” He looked up at the sky, which was bulging with dark gray clouds, so low they almost touched the tops of the trees.

  “I’ll come with you,” Dovewing offered. Perhaps this would give them a chance to talk.

  “Well, you’re not going without me,” Cinderheart meowed. “Come on, let’s tell Squirrelflight what we’re doing.”

  She bounded across the clearing to where the deputy was standing. Lionblaze looked at Dovewing. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I . . .”

  Dovewing broke off as Ivypool emerged from the warriors’ den. “Hey! Are you going on patrol? Can I come?” She trotted over, her fur fluffed out. “Anything to warm up! This wind is bitter.”

  “Sure,” mewed Lionblaze. Cinderheart returned and they headed out of the camp, Lionblaze in the lead. Dovewing watched him stumble over a loose bramble and wince. She’d never seen him with a lasting injury like this.

  They reached a clump of bracken above the hollow and separated to track prey. Dovewing picked up the faint scent of a mouse and crept along the trail, nose to the ground, letting the ferns brush over her spine. She had rounded an ash tree and was just casting around for fresh odor when there was a flurry of paws behind her and Ivypool lunged past, landing on a squirrel.

  The gray-and-white she-cat delivered a killing bite and sat up, wiping blood from her whiskers.

  “Good catch!” Dovewing mewed.

  Ivypool put her head on one side. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear the squirrel coming down the tree,” she purred. “It almost landed on your head! Have you got moss in your ears?”

  Dovewing felt hot with embarrassment. “I . . . I was following a mouse trail.”

  Her sister stood up and started scraping leaf mulch over her prey. “Better go and catch it then!” she meowed, but there was a note of tension in her voice that Dovewing didn’t miss. Has Ivypool realized that I’m losing my powers?

  She marched into the bracken, feeling a sense of relief as the fronds closed up behind her. She soon picked up the scent of mouse again and caught the little creature as it nibbled on a seed pod. “Thank you, StarClan, for bringing food to us,” she murmured over the tiny brown body.

  She hunted around for another trace of prey but hadn’t found anything by the time Lionblaze called them back to the path. A pigeon lay at his paws and Cinderheart stood beside him with a pair of baby voles in her mouth. Dovewing felt embarrassed by her puny contribution, especially when Ivypool puffed her way out of the bracken, dragging the squirrel.

  Lionblaze nodded approvingly. “If the weather’s turning colder, we need all the fresh-kill we can get,” he meowed. “Good work, everyone.”

  They headed back to the camp. Lionblaze fell behind even though the muscles on his shoulders were tense with the effort of not limping. Dovewing slowed to keep level with him. When Cinderheart and Ivypool had vanished around a corner, she put down her mouse and turned to face the golden tabby.

  “Lionblaze, I need to talk to you.”

  Reluctantly, he put down his pigeon and waited.

  Dovewing took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re losing our powers?” Ignoring the flash of anger in his eyes, she kept going. “I can’t hear or see like I used to. You’ve been injured by a tree root, for StarClan’s sake! And Jayfeather seems really scared of something. Could he be losing the power to walk in other cats’ dreams?”

  Lionblaze drew one massive paw over the pale-feathered breast of the dead pigeon. “The Great Battle took a lot out of all of us,” he meowed. “None of us know how long it will take to recover.”

  “But this isn’t a battle wound!” Dovewing protested. “This is something else, something that has changed inside me! I can’t describe it exactly, but I know I’m different.”

  Lionblaze kept his gaze fixed on the bird at his feet. “Talk to Jayfeather if you’re worried. He knows more about this than we do. We’re part of a prophecy, remember? I don’t see how that could change.”

  Dovewing wanted to challenge him but he picked up the pigeon, making it clear their conversation was over. Lurching awkwardly on his infected paw, he trotted along the path and vanished into the bracken. Dovewing scooped up her mouse and followed, letting her tail trail miserably in the dirt.

  “Jayfeather!” Dovewing shivered as a cold gust of wind whipped up her fur at the foot of the cliff. She moved closer to the bramble fronds as if they offered some shelter. “Jayfeather, I have to talk to you!”

  “Really? Right now?” came the impatient reply.

  Dovewing braced herself. “Yes, now.”

  “You’d better come in then. But don’t touch anything!”

  She pushed through the brambles and stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the cave. The sandy floor was covered with piles of herbs, some fresh and green-smelling, others wizened and dried into tiny black curls. Jayfeather was crouched beside Foxleap, who lay on his si
de in a moss-lined nest, his eyes closed. The medicine cat was peeling a dressing of leaves away from the warrior’s belly.

  Dovewing took a step back. The stench that came from the wound was overpowering. “Great StarClan!” she whispered.

  “Exactly,” Jayfeather commented dryly. Without moving his head, he reached out with one paw and expertly scooped up a wad of recently chewed leaves. “What do you want?” he muttered as he began to press the leaves against the open pus-filled wound.

  Dovewing tried not to gag. “Can Foxleap feel that?” she asked.

  “StarClan be thanked, no,” Jayfeather replied. “I keep him dosed with poppyseeds to make him sleep, and he rarely stirs. I want him to stay like this until the wound starts to heal. Is something wrong, Dovewing? As you can see, I’m quite busy. Leafpool’s out collecting herbs, since Brightheart is taking care of Sorreltail’s kits in the nursery, and Briarlight has gone into the forest with Daisy to stretch her legs.”

  Dovewing moved closer. “I think something has happened to me since the Great Battle,” she began. “My senses have changed. I mean, they’re gone. I can see and hear like other cats, but that’s all. And Lionblaze has injured his paw, which never used to happen. So I wanted to know if you had noticed anything different about your powers.”

  Jayfeather froze, his paws motionless on Foxleap’s injury. Then his ears twitched. “Dovewing, this can wait. Let me do my duty to Foxleap, and to the other cats that need me to treat them. You’re not in pain, are you?”

  Dovewing shook her head, until she remembered that Jayfeather couldn’t see her. “No,” she meowed.

  “Then I don’t see how I can help you. I have to concentrate on my responsibilities to this Clan.” His voice rose and one of his front paws curled up in anger. “Foxleap cannot die! We have lost too many cats already! Why does StarClan keep punishing us like this?”

  Dovewing stared at the medicine cat in shock. “You can’t say that! We defeated the Dark Forest cats! We won the battle!”

  “Really?” snarled Jayfeather. “It doesn’t feel that way to me. All I’ve done is watch my Clanmates die because there was nothing I could do to help them.”

  “You can’t bring cats back to life,” Dovewing whispered.

  “Then what is the use of having any power at all?” Jayfeather hissed. He bent closer to Foxleap’s belly, running his paw over the dressing. “Go away, Dovewing. Talk to me when I’m not trying to save a warrior’s life. Right now, there is nothing more important than that.”

  Dovewing staggered out of the cave and stood at the edge of the clearing, letting the wind cool her scorched pelt. Something was terribly wrong with Jayfeather, that was for sure. Was it simply that the Clan had lost so many cats? Or did he know something about their powers?

  “Dovewing?” called a voice from the elder thicket. It was Purdy, peering through rheumy eyes. Now that the nursery had been repaired, Daisy and Brightheart had taken the kits out of the elders’ den. “I think I’ve got a tick on my back, an’ I can’t reach it,” the old tom grumbled.

  “Okay, I’ll take a look,” Dovewing mewed. With so few apprentices in the camp, the warriors were sharing duties among themselves. Dovewing knew it was Berrynose’s turn to deal with Purdy but he was out on patrol, and since she was here, she wasn’t going to refuse to help. She followed the tom into the den and waited for him to settle stiffly in his nest.

  “Oh, that chill’s got into my bones,” he griped as he folded his legs under him.

  “Do you want me to find some feathers for your nest?” Dovewing offered.

  Purdy blinked. “Only if you’ve got time. I know you’re all stretched, with so many cats still recoverin’.”

  Dovewing ran her paw over his bony spine, searching for the tick. “Most of us are okay now. Only Foxleap is still in danger.” Purdy grunted as she rubbed against the tick. “Found it!” she declared. “I’ll put some mouse bile on that and it’ll be gone in a flash.” She started to leave but Purdy beckoned her back with his chin.

  “That can wait a while,” he rasped. “Talk to me first. It’s so empty in here without Mousefur.” He stared at the abandoned nest, cold and dusty but still imprinted with the shape of Mousefur’s body. “I miss her so much, you know,” he murmured. “She was a grouchy old fox at times, but she had the best heart. At least she died protectin’ her Clan. It’s what she would have wanted.”

  “It is,” Dovewing agreed.

  “So why does everyone still look so miserable?” Purdy snorted, propping himself up on his front legs. “I go outside an’ it’s like we’re still buryin’ our Clanmates. Have they forgot we drove those blighters out? No Dark Forest cats around here, are there?”

  Dovewing wasn’t sure what to say. “I . . . think we’re all aware of what has been lost,” she stammered.

  “And what about what we won?” the old cat demanded. “Did Mousefur, did any of ’em, die for nothing? It’s an insult to their memory, that’s what it is, to act like we lost everything.” He slumped back into his nest with a cough. “Sorry, young ’un. I was forgettin’ myself.”

  “No, it’s okay, Purdy,” Dovewing mewed. She reached out her paw and smoothed the tom’s untidy black pelt. “You’re right. We did win, and we should honor our fallen Clanmates by knowing they didn’t die in vain. Now, let me fetch that mouse bile for you.”

  She stood up and squeezed out of the den. Sharp drops of rain splashed onto her pelt, and she ducked her head as she ran back to Jayfeather’s den. She hoped he wouldn’t mind if she helped herself to some bile. As she neared the opening to the cave, a terrible moaning sound stopped her in her tracks.

  “Foxleap, no! Not now! I’ve done everything I could! Oh StarClan, why can’t you let me help these cats?”

  Dovewing nearly retched at the raw grief in Jayfeather’s voice. Foxleap must have died—and Jayfeather was left in agony. What about Dustpelt? First his mate, now his son, lost to the Dark Forest. How would he ever recover? Dovewing rocked on her paws as Leafpool brushed past her, shedding leaves from her jaws.

  “Jayfeather! What’s wrong?” The she-cat pushed through the brambles and Dovewing heard a wail. “Oh no! Foxleap!”

  “StarClan wanted him more than we did,” Jayfeather growled. Leafpool began to murmur comforting words to him and Dovewing turned away, reeling with despair. She almost bumped into Graystripe, who was heading to the fresh-kill pile, his fur blown the wrong way by the wind.

  When the big warrior looked down at her in surprise, Dovewing spat, “The Dark Forest is not finished with us. Foxleap is dead!”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Hargh! Hargh-argh! Sorry,” Sandstorm spluttered before another bout of coughing racked her body. “Hargh-argh-argh!”

  Bumblestripe stirred beside Dovewing. “I feel sorry for her, but none of us are getting any sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck. “Maybe she should see Jayfeather.”

  “I’m sure she’s thought of that,” Dovewing muttered back. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and she wished Sandstorm would be quiet too, but she felt nothing but sympathy for the poor she-cat, who had kept them awake for three nights in a row now.

  A dark shape brushed past Dovewing’s muzzle. “Have some soaked moss, Sandstorm,” urged Poppyfrost. There was a soft squelching sound as she placed it beside the she-cat’s nest. “That might help.”

  “Thanks,” Sandstorm croaked. “I’m so sorry, everyone.” Dovewing listened to her sucking on the moss, then a merciful silence descended on the den and she drifted into sleep.

  It seemed as if Dovewing had only closed her eyes for a moment before Squirrelflight was standing over her, prodding her with a paw. “Come on, sleepy hedgehog! I want you to lead the dawn border patrol.”

  Dovewing stumbled groggily to her paws and followed the deputy out into the frost-sharp morning. Almost a whole moon had passed since the Great Battle and leaf-bare had fallen over the forest like a pelt of ice. Dovewing shivered as her breath made clouds in the ai
r.

  Toadstep joined her, squinting in the early light. “I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep,” he muttered. “I’m going to take Sandstorm to Jayfeather myself if she doesn’t see him today.”

  Dovewing didn’t have the energy to argue. After listening to Squirrelflight’s instructions, she led Toadstep, Hazeltail, and Rosepetal out of the newly rebuilt entrance and down to the lakeside border with WindClan. The moor was empty and quiet, draped with mist, and the patrol returned to the camp without spotting any trace of rival warriors. The clearing was full of cats sharing prey, stretching cold limbs, and talking quietly. Sandstorm stood in a corner, her back hunched in another coughing fit.

  “Bramblestar!” Berrynose called to the Clan leader. “Can you ask Sandstorm to sleep in the elders’ den tonight? She can’t keep us awake every night, or we’ll never be able to keep up with the patrols.”

  Dovewing noticed Purdy’s ears perk up.

  Bramblestar looked questioningly at Sandstorm. “What do you think? Would that give you a better chance to recover, if you’re not worried about waking the other warriors? I know we’re planning to build a second warriors’ den to give you all more room, but that won’t be finished for another quarter moon.”

  There was a flash of defiance in Sandstorm’s green eyes. “It’s just a touch of whitecough!” she croaked. “Are you saying that I’m only fit to be an elder now? I still have moons in me to serve my Clanmates!”

  There was a harsh note of fear beneath her words that gave Dovewing a stab of empathy. I know how she feels. Whatever’s wrong with my senses, it’s making me feel useless as well! She hadn’t made a decent catch for the fresh-kill pile in days, and her ears ached from straining over the boundaries when she was on border patrol. A tiny voice in her mind whispered, What if your powers never come back?, but Dovewing pushed it away. How can I serve my Clan if I’m deaf and blind?