Night Whispers Page 10

She felt him stiffen. “Ivypaw?”

  A cold stone dropped in Dovepaw’s belly. Suddenly she remembered the look her sister had shared with Tigerheart during the battle. “D-do you know Ivypaw?”

  Tigerheart flicked a strand of dried grass awkwardly from her shoulder. “I’ve seen her at Gatherings.”

  “But nothing more than that?” Dovepaw demanded.

  Tigerheart sat back and looked her straight in the eye. “Do you mean, have I ever asked to meet her in the middle of the night, and brought her here to risk my life on collapsing logs?” He tipped his head. “Let me think. . . .”

  Dovepaw fought the urge to shove him.

  “. . . No. I’m pretty sure I haven’t.” He touched his nose to her ear. “There’s only one sister I’m interested in.”

  His breath was warm. How could she have doubted him? He’d risked so much, coming here and confessing his feelings. She must have imagined the look in the battle with ShadowClan.

  I trust him.

  “Come on.” She led the way down the slope until they reached the deeper forest, where he fell in beside her and pulled brambles from her path. She felt wistful as the scents of their Clans grew stronger, and when she began to recognize the trees along the border, her heart began to ache. Tomorrow night seemed a lifetime away. As they reached the clump of beech where they’d met, their steps slowed.

  “It’ll be tomorrow before you know it,” Tigerheart murmured gently. He must have been sharing her thoughts.

  She touched her muzzle to his. “See you then,” she whispered.

  “Definitely,” he meowed. “Sweet dreams.”

  Chapter 12

  The dawn was bright, and Lionblaze watched as Brambleclaw and Firestar stood below Highledge, their Clanmates pacing eagerly around them.

  “Dustpelt, Toadstep, and Foxleap,” Firestar called. “Hunt by the Ancient Oak. Sandstorm, Whitewing, and Birchfall, flush anything out of the moorland you can without crossing the WindClan border.”

  Dovepaw yawned. “Are we hunting or training today?”

  “Both.” Lionblaze wondered why she looked so sleepy. “I’m taking you out with Cinderheart and Ivypaw.” He’d planned the training session with Cinderheart last night as they’d wandered along the moonlit lakeshore. “We want to see how you manage hunting in snow.” His thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Cinderheart’s pelt had shone in the moonlight, and the stars had glittered as though the sky were as frosted as the hills. “Then we are more than friends?” he had whispered into Cinderheart’s ear.

  She’d pressed her cheek to his. “Hadn’t you guessed?”

  “I’d hoped.”

  She’d purred and wrapped her tail around his. “Mouse-brain.”

  “Graystripe.” Firestar’s mew broke into his remembering. “Take Millie, Brightheart, and Blossomfall and hunt by the lake.”

  Across the clearing, Ivypaw was circling Cinderheart excitedly. The apprentice had grown and filled out in the last moon. Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. Today’s training wasn’t just about seeing Dovepaw hunt. He wanted to observe Ivypaw. Jayfeather had persuaded him to wait and see how her visits to the Dark Forest changed her. He’d agreed and had promised not to challenge the young cat yet. But he wasn’t completely convinced that they shouldn’t intervene. Cinderheart had been fretting over the injuries that appeared fresh each day on her apprentice. Ivypaw had told her mentor that she had fallen out of her nest, or run into brambles while practicing her hunting moves outside the hollow. Clearly the Dark Forest warriors were training the young cat hard.

  Firestar issued more instructions. “Squirrelflight, Brackenfur, and Mousewhisker, you can hunt along the banks of the stream. There may be voles.”

  As the warriors headed for the entrance, Daisy came hurrying across the clearing. Molekit and Cherrykit scampered at her heels. “There’ll be no warriors left in camp at this rate,” she called to the ThunderClan leader. “The hollow will be empty except for elders and kits. What if ShadowClan decides to take its revenge?”

  Cherrykit reared onto her hind legs and boxed at the air. “I’ll shred them.”

  Molekit pressed against Daisy’s long cream fur. “I’ll tear off their tails.”

  “Thank you, little ones.” Daisy’s eyes darkened with worry as she stared at Firestar. “Well?”

  Firestar shook his head. “ShadowClan’s warriors won’t attack undefended kits and elders.”

  “Are we ready?”

  Lionblaze looked up, surprised at the sound of Ivypaw’s mew. She was a whisker-length from his muzzle. She’s faster and lighter on her paws than she used to be.

  Cinderheart joined them, yawning. “Let’s go before we freeze.”

  Outside, Rosepetal, Sorreltail, and Brackenfur were tasting the air. “We’d be wasting our time at the shore,” Brackenfur meowed to his mate.

  Sorreltail nodded. “The deeper into the forest, the better,” she agreed.

  Rosepetal glanced at them expectantly. “Which way?”

  “Up there.” Sorreltail flicked her tail toward a thickly brambled slope.

  As Rosepetal charged away, shaking snow from the bushes, Sorreltail shook her head. “She’d better slow down, or she’ll scare more prey than she catches.”

  Brackenfur purred and headed up the slope with Sorreltail. They seemed to move as one, their pelts brushing.

  Lionblaze stared after them. He wanted to walk with Cinderheart like that someday. His whiskers twitched as he imagined kits bounding around their paws, tripping them at every step. A soft muzzle brushed his, and he realized Cinderheart had been watching him.

  “I’d like that too,” she whispered.

  His heart quickened as he fell into her gentle gaze. He could still smell the night breeze in her pelt. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Hey!” Dovepaw’s surprised mew made Lionblaze turn.

  The apprentice was shaking snow from her smoky fur. Ivypaw was perched on a snow-laden branch above her sister’s head. With a flick of her striped silver tail she sent another avalanche cascading over Dovepaw.

  Dovepaw darted toward the tree trunk and began to climb. “I’ll get you!”

  “Get down, both of you!” Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. “We can have fun after the hunt.”

  Ivypaw leaped to the ground, landing easily. “Which way?” Her eyes shone.

  Lionblaze’s paws pricked. She’s more confident.

  “The pines,” Cinderheart suggested. “They’ll give us more shelter.”

  Ivypaw scampered away. “I’ll race you, Dovepaw!” she called over her shoulder.

  Dovepaw scrambled down from the trunk and sent up a flurry of snow as she chased after her sister. Lionblaze frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Cinderheart tipped her head toward him. “Did you want to hunt somewhere else?”

  “That fox has been hanging around the pines,” he reminded her.

  “Then we’d better keep up with them.” Cinderheart darted off, following the apprentices’ tracks.

  Lionblaze pelted after her. They caught up to their apprentices as beech gave way to pine. The ShadowClan border was close enough to taste.

  “Look!” Ivypaw was circling beneath a pine tree, her nose skimming the ground. “Fox prints?” She looked excitedly up at Lionblaze.

  She’s observant. He hurried to inspect them. The snow framed perfect prints. “Fox,” he confirmed.

  Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Let’s follow them,” Ivypaw suggested.

  Cinderheart was already padding along the trail. Lionblaze slid ahead of her, ignoring her growl. He wasn’t going to risk her getting hurt just to save her pride. If they bumped into a fox, he was going to be the one to deal with it.

  The fat paw prints trailed under a low, spreading elderberry bush. “Wait there,” he hissed over his shoulder. Slowly, nose twitching for fresh scents, he slithered below the branches. Under the bush the ground opened into a hole. The stench of
fox seeped from the earth, thankfully stale.

  “Should we fill it in?”

  Cinderheart’s mew made Lionblaze jump.

  “I thought I told you to stay back.”

  She flashed him a look that challenged him to argue. He decided not to. “If we fill in this hole,” he reasoned, “the fox might just dig a new one closer to the camp.” He wriggled backward from under the bush and shook the snow from his pelt.

  Cinderheart popped out after him.

  Ivypaw was hopping from paw to paw. “Should we report back to Firestar?”

  She’s still loyal. “When we’ve finished training,” Lionblaze decided. “The fox hasn’t bothered us yet; there’s no reason it’ll start now.”

  “But keep your eyes open,” Cinderheart warned.

  “And your ears.” Lionblaze looked pointedly at Dovepaw, frustrated to find her staring through the trees. What had happened to her concentration? “Go and hunt!”

  She jerked around. “Now?”

  “Why do you think we came here?”

  Ivypaw was scratching at the snow, clearly keen to start. “Are we hunting together or alone?”

  “Alone,” Cinderheart told her. “We’ll be able to assess you better.”

  “Okay.” Ivypaw bounded past the elderberry, her silver-and-white pelt soon lost among the trees. Cinderheart hurried after her.

  Lionblaze watched them go, frowning. Perhaps he should have suggested they hunt together so he could keep studying Ivypaw.

  “Which way should I go?” Dovepaw asked.

  “You’re the hunter,” Lionblaze meowed. “You decide.”

  Dovepaw scanned the forest, ears stretched, nose twitching, then headed up a rise that ran along the ShadowClan border. Lionblaze hung back until she was out of sight before trailing her.

  He paused near the crest and peered over. The snow was falling more heavily now, and he could hardly see Dovepaw through the flakes. But he could hear her paws crunching, and every time she sniffed for prey, she snuffled as though fighting back a sneeze. This was impossible hunting weather.

  Dovepaw’s trail led around a wide swath of bramble, then straightened through a stand of slender maple. Her tracks were already covered with fresh snow. The tinier tracks of prey would be impossible to see or scent. Lionblaze caught sight of her through the trees, no more than a gray blur. But he saw her drop into a crouch. She must be stalking something. As silently as he could, praying the falling snow would deaden his paw steps, he crept closer.

  His nose picked up the scent of squirrel. Dovepaw was tracking it over roots that were little more than bumps in the snow. Lionblaze glimpsed a bobbing tail as Dovepaw dived. Then she yowled in frustration as she tripped and tumbled forward. Snow clumps showered her from above as the squirrel fled into the safety of a tree.

  “Bad luck.” Lionblaze caught up to her.

  “Stupid bramble tripped me,” she grumbled. “I couldn’t see it under the snow.”

  “These are hard conditions even for experienced warriors,” he comforted her. “And this is your first snow hunt.”

  Dovepaw glanced up at the branches, narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t we hunt up there? That’s where the prey seems to be hiding.”

  Lionblaze flexed his claws. He hated climbing, but she was right. “Okay.”

  He waited while his apprentice scrambled up the trunk of a maple, and then he heaved himself after, relieved to reach the first branch. Dovepaw was already clambering onto the second, and by the time he’d followed, she was scampering along the bough and preparing to launch herself into the branches of the next tree.

  Shaking snow from his whiskers, Lionblaze felt like a badger trailing a squirrel. Stretching every claw, he struggled to grip the slippery bark.

  “I can see a blackbird!” Dovepaw hissed over her shoulder.

  “I’ll wait here.” Lionblaze could see the bird’s black feathers through the snow. It was sheltering in a pine, just a small leap from the branch they were on. Dovepaw drew herself forward, flattening her belly against the bark. She waggled her haunches, then jumped.

  The pine shook as she landed. The blackbird squawked, and the branch bent under Dovepaw’s weight. With a yelp of surprise, she fell into the snow underneath.

  Lionblaze scrambled down the trunk. “Are you okay?”

  Dovepaw was staggering on her hind legs while the blackbird struggled and flapped in her grip. She slammed it to the ground and bent to give it the killing bite.

  Suddenly, shrieks of terror echoed through the forest. Dovepaw let go of the blackbird. “The fox is in the camp!” She pelted away through the trees as the blackbird fluttered, shouting indignantly, up into the pine tree once more.

  Lionblaze launched himself after Dovepaw. Blinded by the snow, he didn’t see Cinderheart till she swerved along beside him.

  “What’s going on?” She matched his pace. “What’s all the noise?”

  Ivypaw slowed in front of them and hared after Dovepaw.

  “The fox is in the hollow!” Lionblaze growled. He pushed harder against the snow, unsheathing his claws.

  As they neared camp, Millie came skidding down a slope, showering snow before her. Blossomfall was at her heels. Graystripe and Brightheart were a few steps behind, pelts bristling.

  The shrieks from the hollow grew fiercer.

  Lionblaze tore through the ragged barrier, shock pulsing through him as he saw the fox. It was circling wildly, huge against the snowy dens, its red pelt like fire next to the icy walls. Poppyfrost and Ferncloud spat, arch-backed, from the nursery entrance, swiping out with unsheathed claws every time the fox whirled near. Jaws snapping, ears flattened, it lashed its tail against the newly built dens. Daisy pressed herself against the medicine den entrance, her fur bushed up, hissing like a cornered snake.

  Brambleclaw’s patrol had arrived just ahead of Dovepaw and Lionblaze. The ThunderClan deputy darted between the fox’s front legs, ducking to avoid its teeth. Dustpelt reared up and swiped at its snout, spattering blood over the white clearing. The fox yelped and snapped harder.

  As Dustpelt jumped clear, Toadstep raked his claws down the fox’s flank, ripping out hunks of red fur. Blood roared in Lionblaze’s ears. Time seemed to slow down as he crouched with his haunches beneath him, rage welling inside him until he had to force himself to hold back the power pulsing through his muscles. He locked his gaze on the fox until he was blind to everything but its red pelt.

  Then he leaped.

  He landed square on the creature’s shoulders and sank his teeth deep into its flesh. The fox shrieked and plunged away from him. Lionblaze lost his grip and thudded onto the snowy clearing. With a snarl, Brightheart grabbed hold of its tail. The fox whirled around, smacking the one-eyed warrior against a beech branch. But Brightheart clung on, her lips drawn back and her ears flat.

  Dovepaw darted under the fox and nipped at its back legs, while Ivypaw clawed at its front. Cinderheart reared and slashed its snout. Foxleap flung himself with flailing claws at its flank. Eyes white-rimmed with terror and confusion, the fox scrambled for the entrance. Bucking and twisting, it threw Brightheart clear as it tore through the barrier. With a final wail, it pelted away into the forest.

  Brambleclaw climbed onto the halfrock and surveyed the hollow. “Who’s hurt?” he demanded.

  Lionblaze scanned his Clanmates. They were checking their pelts and shaking their heads, but Jayfeather was already out of his den and hurrying from warrior to warrior, sniffing for wounds.

  “Is Briarlight okay?” Brambleclaw called.

  “She’s fine.” Jayfeather moved on to Dustpelt.

  Brambleclaw nodded. “Berrynose, Birchfall, and Foxleap, start repairing the barrier. Graystripe, go and find Firestar’s patrol and tell him what’s happened.” He nodded to Ferncloud at the nursery entrance. “Are the kits all right?”

  “It didn’t get near them,” Ferncloud reported.

  Lionblaze stepped forward. “I’ve seen its den.”

  Du
stpelt arched his back, snarling. “Let’s go and teach it a lesson.”

  Brambleclaw waved his tail. “I think we already have.”

  Lionblaze felt a warm cheek pressing against his. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It was Cinderheart.

  “I’m fine.” He saw her ruffled pelt. Clumps of fur stuck out around her neck. “What about you?”

  “Shaken, but okay.”

  Ivypaw bounced toward them. “We showed it, didn’t we?”

  Dovepaw trailed after. “I should have heard it sooner.” The words caught in her throat.

  “You were hunting,” Lionblaze told her. “You’re good, but you can’t be expected to hear everything.” But he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Perhaps Dovepaw shouldn’t hunt. Perhaps she should concentrate on using her powers to look out for danger.

  Ivypaw faced her sister, scowling. “Why should you have heard it?” she demanded. “We were the farthest from the hollow! Why do you have to act like you’re special all the time?”

  Cinderheart flinched.

  Lionblaze lashed his tail, angry with himself. Why had he praised Dovepaw in front of Ivypaw? “Don’t quarrel,” he pleaded.

  The thorns rattled, snapped stems dropping, as Firestar raced into camp. Thornclaw and Sandstorm followed with Graystripe. The ThunderClan leader held a starling in his jaws. He dropped it and looked around the hollow. “Is everyone okay? Are the dens damaged?”

  “The thorn barrier got the worst of it,” Brambleclaw reported.

  Sandstorm was already at the nursery entrance comforting Ferncloud. “The kits are safe. You did well.”

  Jayfeather was wrapping one of Foxleap’s paws in a comfrey leaf.

  “Are you hurt?” Firestar asked the young warrior.

  Jayfeather answered for him. “Lost a claw, I’m afraid. But it’ll heal.”

  Rosepetal gasped and raced across the clearing. “Does it hurt?” she gasped.

  Foxleap lifted his chin. “A bit.”

  Jayfeather gently let go of Foxleap’s paw. “We were lucky there weren’t more injuries.” He carefully folded a comfrey leaf. “My stores are running low, and if this snow keeps up, I’m not going to be able to restock them.”