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Brambleclaw nodded, too shocked to speak. Leafpool stood with head bowed for a heartbeat, then nudged Thornclaw to his paws. “Come to my den.” Her voice sounded thin, as if she was keeping it tightly under control. “I have more cobwebs there.” She padded away, glancing back just once to be sure Thornclaw was following.
Movement in the darkness at the edge of the hollow caught Brambleclaw’s eye, and he turned to see Spiderleg and Whitepaw heading slowly towards them. Spiderleg beckoned with his tail; Brambleclaw had to force his numbed legs into action.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Come and see.” Spiderleg led the way to the wall of the hollow, near the escape route where Daisy and her kits had climbed to safety. A limp bundle of grey-black fur lay in the shadows.
“It’s Sootfur,” Whitepaw whispered. “I think he’s dead.”
Brambleclaw’s belly twisted. Even though he was afraid that Whitepaw was right, he nosed the young warrior’s body in the faint hope of rousing him. Sootfur didn’t move, and his glazed eyes stared at nothing.
“May StarClan light his path,” Brambleclaw murmured. Sootfur’s sister, Sorreltail, had only just given birth; how would she cope with the loss of her brother?
Both the younger cats were staring at Brambleclaw as if they were waiting for him to tell them what to do. With a massive effort he forced himself to think.
“Carry him into the centre of the camp, so we can have a vigil,” he meowed. “I’ll go and look for Rainwhisker.” Sootfur’s brother would have to be told; perhaps he could help their sister, Sorreltail.
Brambleclaw waited until Spiderleg and Whitepaw had lifted Sootfur’s body, then began to search. He couldn’t remember seeing Rainwhisker since the end of the battle. Anxiety sank sharp claws into him; surely Rainwhisker couldn’t be dead too?
Then he spotted the grey warrior half buried under the torn-up thorn branches that had once sheltered the warriors’ den. He lay without moving, but as Brambleclaw dragged a branch off him he managed to lift his head.
“The badgers—have they gone?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s all over,” Brambleclaw replied. “But I’m afraid there’s sad news. Can you get up?”
With a grunt, Rainwhisker brought his paws under him and scrabbled at the prickly twigs until he had hauled himself upright. He balanced precariously on three legs; the fourth hung at an awkward angle, and Brambleclaw was afraid it had been broken. Giving Rainwhisker his shoulder for support, he guided him towards the centre of the camp where Sootfur now lay. Firestar, Squirrelflight, and several other cats stood around him, their heads bowed.
Rainwhisker let out a yowl of dismay at the sight of his brother’s body. Limping forward, he bent his head to thrust his nose into the grey-black fur. He stayed still for a few heartbeats, then looked up, his eyes filled with grief.
“I should tell Sorreltail,” he meowed.
Firestar twitched his tail to stop him. “Your leg needs to be seen to first. Some other cat—”
“No,” Rainwhisker interrupted stubbornly. “Let me do it. Sootfur was our brother. She will want to hear this from me.”
The Clan leader hesitated, then nodded. “OK, but go to see Cinderpelt as soon as you can.”
“Firestar, you mean Leafpool,” Sandstorm gently corrected him.
Firestar blinked, stupefied by shock and exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe Cinderpelt’s dead.”
Brambleclaw gazed at him sympathetically. The Thunder Clan leader had been very close to Cinderpelt. He was sure to be badly shaken by her death.
He’s going to need my help. Brambleclaw braced himself. Touching Squirrelflight on her shoulder with his tail, he murmured, “Let’s go and bring Cinderpelt’s body into the clearing.”
“Right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Rainwhisker, come with us if you want to speak to Sorreltail.”
The three cats made their way to the nursery. The bramble thicket, growing close to the wall of the hollow, was the least damaged part of the camp. Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Brackenfur had stayed there throughout the battle, defending the entrance while Sorreltail’s kits were born. Only part of it had been trampled down where the badger that killed Cinderpelt had swatted Brackenfur aside to break in.
Daisy and her kits were standing outside the entrance. Cloudtail and Ferncloud were with them, and Birchpaw, who lay splayed out on the ground beside his mother. For a dreadful instant Brambleclaw thought that the apprentice had died of his wounds, until he saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Ferncloud crouched over him, gently licking his shoulder.
Leafpool and Brightheart approached at the same time. Leafpool was carrying a wrap of herbs in her jaws, which she set down as Brambleclaw came up.
“Thank StarClan, Cinderpelt’s den was too small for the badgers to get in,” she meowed. “All her herbs and berries are still intact.” Her voice shook as she added, “Please can we move her body, so the Clan can sit in vigil for her?”
“We’ve come to do that,” Brambleclaw told her.
Leafpool blinked gratefully. “Thank you. Brightheart,” she went on, “please fetch some marigold for Birchpaw. Then tell all the cats who are able to walk to go to my den. It’ll be easier to treat them there. And let me know if there’s any cat who can’t manage it. I’ll need to see them first.”
Brightheart gave a brisk nod and left.
Leafpool led the way into the nursery, followed closely by Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and Rainwhisker. Hardly any moonlight penetrated through the brambles, making it shadowy as a cave inside, and Brambleclaw winced as he stepped on a thorny tendril. He could just make out Cinderpelt lying on her side in a nest of soft moss. Her tail was curled over her nose, and she looked as if she were asleep.
Brambleclaw padded up to her. “Cinderpelt?” For a heartbeat he thought she might raise her head and answer him, but when he touched his nose to her fur it felt deathly cold.
Sorreltail was lying on the other side of the dead medicine cat, in the furthest corner of the nursery. Her body was curled away from Cinderpelt’s body, sheltering her kits. Her mate, Brackenfur, crouched beside her, his fur bristling; as the other cats entered he bared his teeth in a snarl.
“It’s all right, Brackenfur,” Brambleclaw meowed. “It’s only us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Brackenfur relaxed, though he still looked wary, and shifted even closer to Sorreltail. Leafpool squeezed past Brambleclaw and began nosing carefully over the young tortoiseshell. Brambleclaw blinked, waiting for his eyes to get used to the gloom until he could see Sorreltail’s four kits burrowing blindly into her fur. Sorreltail was gazing up at Leafpool, her eyes blank with shock.
Rainwhisker edged up beside Brambleclaw. “What can I say to her?” he whispered. “She’s suffered enough already. Knowing about Sootfur could kill her.”
“Not when she has Brackenfur and Leafpool to look after her,” Brambleclaw reassured him. “Come on—it’s better for her to hear it from you than some other cat.”
Rainwhisker nodded, though he still looked uncertain. “Sorreltail . . .” he began, gently nuzzling his sister’s shoulder.
“Rainwhisker, is that you?” Sorreltail mewed, twisting her head around to look at him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll be OK,” Rainwhisker replied. “But I’ve got some bad news. It’s Sootfur. He’s . . . dead.”
Sorreltail stared at him for a couple of heartbeats as if she hadn’t understood. Then she tipped back her head and let out a high-pitched wail. “No! Oh, no!”
Her body twisted in a spasm of grief; Brambleclaw heard a faint mewling of protest from the kits as they were dislodged from her belly.
“Sorreltail, it’s all right!” Brackenfur mewed. He pressed himself to her side, covering her face and ears with licks until she shuddered and buried her head in his shoulder. “Sorreltail, I’m here,” he went on. “Think of the kits. You have to care for them.”
“How did he die?” Sorreltail’s voice trembled, but she shifted until her kits were tucked once more in the curve of her body. The babies scrambled back into place and kept suckling, pressing into her belly with tiny soft paws.
“The badgers killed him,” Rainwhisker told her. “Sootfur was a brave warrior,” Brambleclaw meowed. “He’s safe with StarClan now.”
Sorreltail nodded and reached out to give Rainwhisker a comforting lick. “Thank you for telling me.”
Leafpool nudged her leaf wrap closer to the young tortoiseshell. “That’s borage,” she meowed. “It will help your supply of milk.” She hesitated and then added, “If you can’t sleep, I’ll get you some poppy seed, but it would be better for the kits if you can manage without.”
“It’s all right, I can do without it.” Sorreltail bent over and chewed up the borage, wincing at the taste but swallowing until it was all gone.
“Brackenfur, can you find some fresh-kill for her?” Leafpool suggested. “As for you, Rainwhisker, you’d better stay right here while I have a look at that leg.”
Brackenfur touched his nose to Sorreltail’s ear, promised, “I’ll be right back,” and slipped out of the nursery past Cinderpelt’s body.
Sorreltail’s gaze followed him. “It’s my fault Cinderpelt died.” Her voice rasped with grief. “She could have escaped the badger, but she stayed to help me.”
“It’s not your fault.” Leafpool sounded unusually fierce, and Brambleclaw glanced at her in surprise. “Cinderpelt was doing her duty as a medicine cat. That was the choice she made.”
“That’s true,” meowed Squirrelflight. “Sorreltail, just think—if Cinderpelt had left you, the badger might have killed you too, and your kits. You wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”
Sorreltail shook her head, shuddering.
“They’re beautiful kits,” Brambleclaw said, trying to distract her. He got a good look at the newest members of ThunderClan for the first time. “Have you given them names yet?”
Sorreltail nodded. “This one is Molekit.” She touched the biggest kit’s head with the tip of her tail. “He’s the only tom. Then this is Honeykit and Poppykit.” She touched in turn a pale bracken-coloured tabby and a tortoiseshell-and-white kit who looked like a tiny copy of Sorreltail. “And this is Cinderkit.”
Brambleclaw heard a gasp from Squirrelflight. The fluffy grey kit looked hauntingly familiar, and he couldn’t help casting a rapid glance at the body of Cinderpelt behind him. Leafpool, bent over Rainwhisker’s injured leg, froze for a heartbeat. “I think Cinderpelt would like that,” she mewed softly, then carried on with what she was doing.
“They all look strong and healthy,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Come on, Squirrelflight, we have a job to do for Cinderpelt now.”
Squirrelflight paused and touched Leafpool lightly on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “You should get some rest soon,” she mewed. “You look awful.”
“I don’t have time to rest,” Leafpool responded, not looking at her. “What are all these wounded cats going to do if I take a nap?”
Squirrelflight’s gaze was troubled. “But I’m worried about you. I can feel how tough it is for you right now.”
This time Leafpool didn’t reply. Brambleclaw could see that she just wanted to be left alone to take care of Rainwhisker. He nudged Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Come on,” he repeated, lowering his voice to add, “give her a bit of space. She can cope; she just needs time.”
Squirrelflight still looked uncertain, but she turned round in the tight space and helped Brambleclaw carry Cinderpelt’s limp body out of the nursery. Daisy and the kits were still huddled by the entrance with Cloudtail and Ferncloud. Brightheart had brought the marigold and was treating Birchpaw’s wounds.
“You can’t leave,” Cloudtail was protesting. “You and the kits belong here.”
Daisy shook her head, her gaze falling on the dead medicine cat. “My kits could have been killed,” she mewed. “Or I could have died, and then what would happen to them? They’ll be safer back at the horseplace.”
All three of her kits let out meows of protest.
“But what about the Twolegs?” Cloudtail pressed. “You came here in the first place because you were afraid they would take your kits away from you.”
Daisy flexed her claws, her eyes clouded with indecision. Before she could speak, Brightheart meowed, “The kits might be safe from the Twolegs by now. After all, they’re nearly old enough to make themselves useful, catching rats and mice in the barn.”
“But we don’t want to go back there,” Berrykit wailed. “We want to stay here.”
Daisy flicked him with her tail. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want a badger to come and get you?”
“But none of you are hurt,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “The Clan made sure you were safe.”
“Please stay,” Ferncloud urged. “Life will be much easier now that newleaf is here.”
Daisy gave her a doubtful look. “Can you promise me the badgers won’t come back?”
“No cat can promise that,” Cloudtail replied, “but I’ll bet we won’t see anything of them for a good long time.”
Daisy shook her head and pushed her kits in front of her into the nursery. “Come along. You need to rest after such a dreadful night.”
“But we’re not tired,” Mousekit complained.
Daisy didn’t reply. She cast one more glance back at Cloudtail, full of fear and uncertainty, before she vanished.
Ferncloud followed her. “I’ll just see her settled.”
“Daisy could be right, you know,” Brightheart meowed, without looking at Cloudtail. “She knows what’s best for her kits, and maybe they would all feel safer back at the horse-place.”
Cloudtail opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.
“You’d better get over to Leafpool’s den,” Brightheart told him, as if she didn’t want to talk about the horseplace cat any more. “That torn claw is bleeding again. You need more cobwebs.”
Cloudtail glanced at the nursery entrance and muttered, “Right, I’ll be off, then.”
Brambleclaw turned back to Cinderpelt, his heart twisting with grief as he gazed at the sleek grey body, the blue eyes glazed and empty. Squirrelflight stood beside him with her head bowed; Brambleclaw saw a shiver pass through her and he pressed himself against her side, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. When she didn’t move, he stood for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.
“Come on,” he mewed softly. “The night will be over soon. It’s time for her vigil.”
He and Squirrelflight picked up Cinderpelt’s body again to carry her across the clearing and lay her beside Sootfur. Spiderleg and Whitepaw were crouching with their noses pressed into the grey-black warrior’s pelt.
“Goodbye,” Brambleclaw murmured, touching his nose to Cinderpelt’s fur. “StarClan will honour you.”
“We’ll miss you,” Squirrelflight added. “And we’ll never forget you.”
Brambleclaw would have liked to crouch beside the dead medicine cat and keep a proper vigil for her, but there was too much to do. He padded across to Firestar, who was still in the centre of the camp with Stormfur, Brook, and Midnight.
“I think we should start on the warriors’ den,” he meowed.
Midnight dipped her head to Firestar. “I go now,” she announced. “By night is travel well.”
“But you must be as tired as the rest of us,” Firestar protested. “Stay until you have slept for a while.”
Midnight’s white-striped head swung around as she surveyed the shattered camp. “No more here for me to do. I go back to sea cave, hear beating of waves on shore, rustle of wind in grasses.”
“ThunderClan would have been destroyed if you hadn’t brought WindClan to help us. We can never thank you enough.”
“No need is thanks. Too late warning come. My kin not hear talk of peace.”
“But why?” Brook asked, her eyes wide with distress. “In the mountains, we’ve never had trouble with badgers. Are they like Sharptooth, wanting to kill cats for their prey?”
Midnight shook her head. “My kin not eat cats. But cats drive them from territory, first from RiverClan on other side of lake, then from here. Revenge they want, and take territory back.”
“I remember Hawkfrost reporting that at the Gathering,” Firestar meowed. “He was the RiverClan warrior who drove the badger out.”
Brambleclaw drew a sharp breath, ready to defend his half-brother. Were his Clanmates going to blame Hawkfrost for the badger attack?
“We drove a badger out of our territory too,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “With her kits. And to think I felt sorry for her!”
