Fading Echoes Page 13

  Rosepetal was peering through the fractured branches into the medicine den. “I can get through,” she announced. Paws first, she wriggled between the spars, grunting a little as her hind legs and tail disappeared into the golden leaves. “What do you want me to get?” she called out.

  While Jayfeather began to describe the herbs he would need, Lionblaze padded down the tunnel toward the honeysuckle bush. His heart was pounding and he could feel Graystripe’s and Millie’s worried gazes on his pelt. What if he found only dead bodies? He pushed away the thought and shouldered his way past the two remaining branches. The bark tore his fur as he squeezed his way through, hope pricking as he felt soft honeysuckle tendrils beneath his paws. Delving into the crushed heap, he squirmed into what was left of the elders’ den.

  A tiny space opened up in front of him. Only Mousefur’s nest remained; the others were hidden underneath shattered branches.

  Then he saw the body.

  Twisted. Limp. Lifeless.

  As he stared, stiff with grief, Dustpelt squeezed in beside him.

  “We’ve cleared the last two branches,” the tabby warrior began. His voice trailed away when he saw the body. “Longtail.” The name caught in his throat.

  With a strange choking feeling in his throat, Lionblaze lifted the pale tabby elder by the scruff and dragged him from what was left of the den. The old cat was light as a squirrel in his jaws as Lionblaze pulled him through the tunnel and laid him on the bare ground.

  Firestar dipped his head while Graystripe pressed close to Millie.

  “Did you see Briarpaw?” the gray warrior whispered.

  As Lionblaze shook his head, Dustpelt called from inside the den, “She’s alive! Quick!”

  Lionblaze dashed back with Graystripe pressing on his tail. As they raced along the makeshift tunnel, an ominous snap cracked the air. A prop snapped beside them, spraying splinters. The tree shivered as another prop broke.

  “It’s not going to hold!” Millie’s terrified mew wailed behind them.

  Ignoring her, Lionblaze ducked into the remains of the elders’ den. Graystripe squashed in beside him. Dustpelt was crouching on Mousefur’s nest, his muzzle probing a branch where the beech had crushed the honeysuckle into a mangled mass of tendrils. As Lionblaze slid in beside the tabby tom he saw Briarpaw looking up at him, her face twisted with pain.

  “I can’t move,” she croaked.

  Her hind legs were pinned. She screeched as the beech trembled again.

  Lionblaze tensed at the sound of another prop splintering behind them. “We’ve got to get her out now!”

  “How?” Dustpelt gasped. “The tree’s collapsing and she’s trapped.”

  “I’ll get her!” Graystripe grabbed her scruff.

  As Briarpaw squealed in terror and pain, Lionblaze knocked the gray tom away. “You’ll kill her,” he warned. Without thinking, he pressed his back against a wide branch that spanned the crushed den. Pressing his paws to the ground, he arched his spine, forcing his shoulders up until he felt the whole weight of the tree. The branch shuddered and creaked and began to shift upward.

  “Y-you’re moving it!” Dustpelt whispered.

  “Grab her now!” Lionblaze panted as he felt the tree move another whisker.

  Graystripe leaned forward and grabbed his daughter’s scruff.

  “Gently!” Lionblaze warned. The weight on his shoulders was agonizing. But he wouldn’t leave his Clanmate to die. Outside the den, wood splintered and cracked.

  “The props are going!” Millie shrieked.

  Slowly, carefully, Graystripe drew Briarpaw from under the branch. “I’ve got her,” he mewed through her fur.

  Briarpaw whimpered as her father pulled her out.

  Dustpelt stared down the tunnel as the pair disappeared.

  Lionblaze felt his lungs screaming as he fought for breath, his legs trembling beneath him.

  “They’re clear!” Dustpelt reported.

  “You go too!” Lionblaze yelped.

  Dustpelt scooted away between the branches as the tree groaned and wood splintered.

  With a last heaving gasp, Lionblaze ducked out from underneath the branch and dived after Dustpelt. The tree crumpled around him and he shot from the tunnel a moment before the last prop gave way and the tree fell to a shuddering halt, its roots slamming against the nursery. With a heaving crash, its branches flopped to the ground like corpses.

  Darkness crowded Lionblaze’s vision as he struggled to catch his breath. His legs shivered but he refused to let them buckle. He waited, letting strength gather within him and spread through his limbs. Then he stretched and blinked the darkness away.

  A tail smoothed his back.

  “Well done, Lionblaze.” Firestar was at his side.

  Graystripe and Millie were crouching beside Briarpaw. Jayfeather grabbed a mouthful of herbs from the pile Rosepetal had passed through the branches. He dropped them next to Briarpaw and began to sniff her limp body.

  “Will she be okay?” Millie rasped.

  The young cat’s breath was coming in gasps and her eyes were glazed.

  “I don’t think she can see us,” Graystripe wailed.

  “Out of my way!” Jayfeather scooted around Briarpaw, sniffing her pelt, his eyes narrowed in a frown.

  “Longtail?” called a trembling voice. It was Whitewing.

  Lionblaze turned and saw the Clan creeping back into the hollow. They padded slowly, edging what was left of the clearing, and sniffing at the remains of their devastated camp. Blossompaw and Bumblepaw broke away and raced to Graystripe and Millie, pressing hard against them.

  “Will Briarpaw be okay?” Bumblepaw whimpered.

  Mousefur darted from Whitewing’s side and began to circle Longtail’s body. “No, no, no, no, no,” she moaned.

  Purdy shuffled close to the old she-cat as she dropped to her belly and pressed her nose into her denmate’s chilly pelt.

  Dovepaw and Ivypaw stared in horror at Briarpaw’s unmoving body.

  “Is she dead?” Ivypaw whispered.

  “Don’t just stand there like rabbits,” Lionblaze snapped. “Go and fetch her some moss. Try to make her comfortable!”

  The two cats sprang away and raced from the hollow. They passed Leafpool, who padded through the thorns and halted. Through slitted eyes, she watched Jayfeather work.

  Jayfeather lifted his head to face her. “Well?” he snarled. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Leafpool blinked, pain flashing in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened. “What do you want me to do?” She slid in beside Jayfeather and sniffed at Briarpaw.

  “Shock’s setting in fast,” Jayfeather reported.

  “She needs thyme,” Leafpool instructed. “I’ll make pulp.” She took a mouthful of leaves from the pile and began to chew them.

  Jayfeather sat up. “I can’t find where she’s hurt. There’s not a scratch on her.” He sounded perplexed.

  Briarpaw’s eyelids flickered. “I-I c-can’t feel my hind legs.”

  Jayfeather leaned forward and gently took one leg in his jaws to lift it up. He let go and it dropped to the ground like dead prey. “Is that thyme ready yet?” he called to Leafpool.

  “Yes.” She began wiping the pulp around Briarpaw’s lips with her paw. Instinctively Briarpaw licked it off and Leafpool applied more.

  Millie was pacing around them, her eyes clouded with grief. “What’s wrong with her?” she begged.

  Jayfeather didn’t answer. Instead he glanced up at Lionblaze. “Comfrey, please.”

  Lionblaze hurried to the medicine den entrance and called through the branches to Rosepetal, “Jayfeather needs comfrey!”

  “I’ve got loads,” Rosepetal meowed back. She began stuffing pawfuls of leaves through the branches.

  Lionblaze grabbed a mouthful and carried them to Jayfeather. “Will she be okay?” he whispered.

  “Her heartbeat is getting steadier, but her legs…” Jayfeather’s words trailed into a frustrated growl. He fl
icked Lionblaze away with his tail.

  Ferncloud was trying to comfort Graystripe and Millie. “If anyone can save her, Jayfeather can.” She glanced at Jayfeather as he began rubbing a dark green poultice into Briarpaw’s hind legs. “And he’s got Leafpool helping,” she added in a hopeful whisper.

  Firestar straightened up. “Dustpelt!” he called. “See if the nursery is secure. We can at least make sure the queens and kits have some shelter.” He glanced around the camp, which was half-hidden by the beech. “The apprentices’ den looks okay.” He nodded to Cloudtail and Squirrelflight. “Check that it’s secure. Then collect bedding. As much as you can find. The elders and queens and kits will sleep inside tonight. But the rest of us will still need nests.”

  Squirrelflight nodded and beckoned to Berrynose, Thornclaw, and Brackenfur with her tail before charging out of the camp.

  “Should I go with them?” Lionblaze offered.

  Firestar gazed at him. “You’ve done enough for the Clan for today,” he murmured. “Thank you. And thank StarClan we have you. If it wasn’t for you, Briarpaw would be dead by now.”

  Lionblaze looked at Briarpaw lying on the sodden ground. Leafpool was massaging her chest with a firm paw, her eyes more focused than they had been in moons.

  Briarpaw opened her eyes and stared at her father and mother. “Where are my back legs? Are they still there?”

  Millie let out a muffled squeak, and the fur rose along Graystripe’s spine. Briarpaw’s hind legs were stretched out behind her, looking just as they always had, strong and glossy. But she couldn’t feel them—and if she couldn’t feel them, she couldn’t stand or walk or run….

  A torrent of grief swept through Lionblaze, and for one unbearable moment he wondered if the lively young apprentice would thank him for saving her life.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jayfeather lifted his head and sniffed the dawn breeze. The air was fresh with the tang of sap from the fallen tree and musty with wet leaves and mud. He felt the warmth of Millie’s pelt against his. The gray queen was wrapped around her kit.

  Briarpaw slept on, the poppy seed he’d given her last night still heavy on her breath. He could sense the weight in her limbs and the emptiness of feeling in her hind legs.

  Aching with the strain of yesterday’s disaster, he sniffed at his patient, his whiskers brushing over Millie’s pelt as he leaned into Briarpaw’s nest.

  Millie raised her head. “How is she?”

  “She’s safe from the shock,” he told her. Briarpaw’s heart beat steadily beneath her clammy pelt.

  “What about her legs?” Millie’s mew trembled.

  “I don’t know.” Jayfeather stifled a growl. He hated being so helpless.

  Outside, warriors were moving in the half clearing. Jayfeather could hear Brambleclaw issuing orders.

  “Patrols will carry on as normal. We must hunt. Dustpelt, how many cats do you need to help you clear the debris?”

  Jayfeather pricked his ears. The wreckage of the beech muted sound. The mews of his Clanmates no longer rang against the rocky walls of the hollow but soaked into the soft mass of sodden branches and leaves.

  “Four or five should be enough for the first shift,” Dustpelt answered his deputy resolutely, but Jayfeather felt the sting in the warrior’s paws, raw from yesterday’s work. “Birchfall and Brackenfur? They could start with the bigger branches. Rosepetal and Hazeltail could help with the smaller ones.”

  A path had been cleared to the medicine den. The nursery was safe, enfolded in a tangle of beech roots. The apprentices’ den had survived unscathed.

  Briarpaw was stirring. As Jayfeather bent to sniff her muzzle he felt her eyelids flicker on his cheek.

  “How are you?” he asked gently.

  He could feel panic pricking from Millie and tapped her with his tail-tip. Don’t let her smell your fear.

  “Don’t know,” Briarpaw answered groggily.

  “Any pain?”

  “No. Just sleepy.”

  “That’s because of the poppy seed.”

  “Is that why I can’t feel my hind legs?”

  Jayfeather felt Millie’s gaze burning his pelt. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted it to be true.

  Perhaps it was. Perhaps once the trauma of the accident had worn off Briarpaw would be up and about, her hind legs fine. After all, he hadn’t felt any breaks in the bones. There was no reason why they shouldn’t work.

  “Well?” Briarpaw pressed.

  “I think they’re just recovering from the accident a little more slowly than the rest of you,” he told her. “Let’s wait and see. StarClan willing, they’ll wake up before too long.”

  Briarpaw hooked her claws into the bracken of her nest. “I hope it’s soon. I’ve just passed my assessment. I can be a warrior now!”

  Millie swallowed hard. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “The more you rest, the quicker you’ll recover.”

  Briarpaw rested her chin on her paws and within moments her breath deepened into slumber.

  Millie followed Jayfeather out of the den. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded as soon as they were beyond the trailing brambles.

  Jayfeather winced as his paw stubbed a branch littering the pathway to his den. The camp had changed shape, distorted by the fallen beech, and he had to pick his way carefully through it, not knowing what might be jutting out, waiting to trip him. He snorted with frustration. The camp had been the one place he could move around without concentrating. Now it was as foreign to him as RiverClan territory.

  “What’s wrong with her legs?” Millie pressed as he licked his paw fiercely to ease the pain.

  He paused, fixing his gaze on her. He knew that cats listened harder when he looked at them, though it made no difference to him. “I don’t know.”

  “You must!” Fear and frustration edged her mew.

  Jayfeather was relieved to hear Graystripe’s pawsteps approaching. The gray warrior could comfort his mate.

  Graystripe’s fur brushed Millie’s. “No change?” His voice was taut with worry.

  “We’re just going to have to wait,” Jayfeather told them. “At least she’s not in pain.”

  He began to pad away, his mind whirling. Why couldn’t Briarpaw feel her legs? They were bruised, but not broken. Jayfeather frowned. He’d never come across that before.

  “Can we see her?” Graystripe called after him.

  “Sitting with her won’t harm her, though she needs her rest,” Jayfeather meowed over his shoulder. “She’s your kit. You’ll know best how to keep her spirits up.”

  Jayfeather’s belly growled. The prey pile smelled freshly stocked. He figured that he’d better eat. There hadn’t been time last night. He padded toward it, tasting the familiar scent of Lionblaze, mixed with heavy, wet earth.

  Jayfeather plucked a mouse from the stack. “Have you been burying Longtail?” He knew his grief for lost Clanmates was less than that of other cats. He would see Longtail again, free from blindness and aches, basking in the warmth of StarClan’s hunting grounds or sitting with old friends in the ranks of starry-pelted cats who visited the Moonpool.

  Briarpaw’s problem upset him more. If her legs didn’t recover, she faced more suffering than he wanted to imagine.

  Lionblaze flicked his tail against the ground. “I was helping Mousefur and Purdy. They were tired after sitting vigil all night.” He pushed the blackbird distractedly with a paw. “I sent them to rest in the nursery, but I don’t think Mousefur will sleep. She’s still very agitated.”

  “I’ll take her a poppy seed once I’ve eaten,” Jayfeather promised. “Is Dovepaw any calmer?”

  “A little.” Concern edged his mew. “She should be proud that she saved so many lives by warning us.”

  “She feels the responsibility of looking after the Clan more heavily than ever,” Jayfeather guessed.

  “She’s young.” Lionblaze sighed. “And being one of the Three is a great responsibility.”

  Jayfeather no
dded. He and Lionblaze were older, surer of their abilities, and they still found it hard.

  “I’ll take her hunting with Ivypaw this morning,” Lionblaze decided. “I want her to remember what normal Clan life feels like.”

  “Good.” As Jayfeather bent to pick up his mouse he heard pattering pawsteps. Blossompaw and Bumblepaw brushed against him.

  “Can we see Briarpaw?” Bumblepaw circled anxiously.

  “She’s sleeping at the moment,” Jayfeather answered. “But I don’t see why not. She’s not in pain. Company will be as good a medicine as any.”

  The two young cats hurried away to the medicine den while Lionblaze headed for the tattered thorn barrier. Jayfeather bent again for his mouse.

  “How’s Briarpaw?”

  Leafpool’s mew took him by surprise. She was the only cat who could creep up on him. Perhaps her scent was too familiar. Too close to his own. He shook the thought away.

  “Why don’t you check on her yourself?” he suggested, trying to keep his fur lying flat.

  “I’m a warrior now,” she reminded him gruffly.

  Disappointed, he snatched up his mouse and began to pad away.

  “I’d go and see Littlecloud.”

  Leafpool’s suggestion stopped him in his tracks.

  “Really?” He turned back to her. “I thought you weren’t a medicine cat anymore.”

  “I meant, if I were you.”

  “But you’re not me!”

  Leafpool took a steadying breath. “Littlecloud’s dealt with an injury like Briarpaw’s,” she explained. “A cat whose legs were crushed. He might have ideas about how to help Briarpaw.”

  Jayfeather didn’t reply.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment,” Leafpool went on. “It’s just what I would do.”

  Jayfeather dropped his mouse, his appetite gone, and padded away. He climbed the rocks to Firestar’s den, pushing all thoughts except Briarpaw from his mind.

  Sandstorm was sitting with the ThunderClan leader, grooming his shoulders, her rough tongue scraping his sleek fur. She paused as Jayfeather padded in.

  “News?” Firestar’s voice was pricked with worry.

  Jayfeather shook his head. “I want to travel to the ShadowClan camp to speak with Littlecloud,” he meowed. “Leafpool says he’s dealt with injuries similar to Briarpaw’s.”