Fawnstep was waiting for him at the foot of the rock. “Cloudstar, can we talk?” Her blue eyes looked anxious.
Cloudstar followed her into the shadows behind the stone. “It’s the other medicine cats,” Fawnstep told him, her voice trembling. “They’ve all had dreams about us, about SkyClan being swallowed up by yellow monsters, trampled like dust beneath falling trees. Molepelt of ShadowClan is convinced we will all be dead before the next Gathering!”
“Molepelt of ShadowClan should worry more about his own warriors and less about sticking his muzzle into other Clans’ business,” growled Cloudstar. “He’s no better than a gossiping elder! He can hardly take care of his own pelt, let alone an entire Clan.”
“But the others listen to him,” Fawnstep persisted. “And they are all worried about SkyClan.”
Cloudstar raised his head. “Do they live in our camp? Have they seen our hunting patrols working tirelessly to find enough food for us? Do they know that the trees have stopped falling? Or have you told them we are starving to death, crippled by Twolegs and their pathetic monsters?” His voice was harsher than he intended, and Fawnstep winced.
“I have told them that we are fine and can take of ourselves,” she mewed sharply. “I would never tell them anything else.”
Cloudstar felt a stab of guilt for doubting his medicine cat. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. Now, let’s join the others before we fuel more gossip from our neighbors.”
It was a strain to stay cheerful and seem interested in what was going on in the other Clans, and Cloudstar was relieved when the cats began slipping away from the hollow in search of a brief rest before dawn. He led his Clanmates back along the river at a run, wrinkling his nose at the stench of ThunderClan scent marks at the edge of the shore. SkyClan was allowed to follow the edge of the water to reach Fourtrees, but Redstar seemed determined to keep them trapped on the pebbles by a wall of reeking scent.
Quailheart met them just inside the brambles. His eyes were full of sorrow. “It’s Petalfall,” he meowed as soon as Cloudstar and Fawnstep emerged from the thorns. “She’s had another falling fit, and she’s so weak she can hardly open her eyes.”
Fawnstep and Cloudstar ran to the medicine cat’s den. The old she-cat lay in a faint moonbeam that filtered through the branches above her. Her rose-cream pelt was stretched tight over her jutting hip bones, and her eyes were sunken into her skull. The scent of death clung to her fur and her breath rattled in her chest. She raised her head when Cloudstar and Fawnstep entered and opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly her whole body stiffened, her legs shot out, and her eyes rolled back. She started to tremble and foam bubbled at her lips.
Fawnstep crouched beside her. “It’s all right, Petalfall,” she soothed. “It will be over soon.”
A high-pitched moan came from between Petalfall’s clenched teeth. “Bring me two poppy seeds,” Fawnstep meowed to Quailheart. The tom hurried to the store, and Cloudstar hunkered down beside the sick cat.
“Two poppy seeds?” he queried. “Is that safe?” He knew that one poppy seed was usually all Fawnstep would allow a cat to eat.
Fawnstep didn’t take her eyes from Petalfall’s wretched, shaking body. “Would you rather she kept having these terrible fits? If I can keep her in a deep sleep, she’ll have a chance to rest and regain her strength.”
Cloudstar looked down at the sharp bones that seemed about to pierce the old cat’s pelt. It didn’t seem to him that Petalfall had a whisker of strength left in her frail body. She needed food more than sleep, but the Clan couldn’t give her that. Cloudstar swallowed the urge to yowl in despair.
Slowly, Petalfall stopped shaking. Cloudstar drew his tail softly over her flank. “Everything’s fine, Petalfall. Rest now.”
The old cat blinked, and one faded blue eye focused on Cloudstar. “Don’t lie to me, Cloudstar,” she rasped, so quietly that Cloudstar had to bend closer. He winced at the stench of her breath, and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
“I may be old, but I’m not dumb,” Petalfall croaked. “I know we are in great trouble. Oh my poor Clan. We have survived so much, yet now we will be destroyed by Twolegs.”
“No, Petalfall!” Cloudstar mewed in her ear. “SkyClan can still survive this!”
The clouded eye swiveled to hold his gaze with a stony glare. “Promise me, Cloudstar,” the old cat wheezed. “Promise me you will not let the Twolegs drive us from our home.”
“I promise,” Cloudstar whispered. “This is where SkyClan belongs. For as long as I have my nine lives, we will never leave the forest.”
Chapter 7
Faint, cream-colored beams of light filtered through the branches, heralding the sunrise. Cloudstar tried to straighten his hind leg without disturbing Petalfall. The old cat had eaten the poppy seeds and fallen into a deep slumber, broken only by rumbling snores. Cloudstar had stayed beside her, too troubled to close his eyes but unwilling to let Petalfall sleep alone. She was used to being warmed by the fur of the other elders close beside her.
“Cloudstar!” Fawnstep’s soft mew pierced the hushed den. “Stop wriggling, or you’ll wake Petalfall! Why don’t you go for a walk?” The medicine cat loomed out of the shadows. “Go on, I’ll lie beside Petalfall until she wakes.”
Cloudstar heaved himself up, stumbling on numb paws, and crept out of the den. Outside, the air was already warm and tiny flies buzzed around his ears. The camp was silent; it was too early even for the dawn patrols. Cloudstar crawled under the bramble bush and trotted through the quiet trees. For once, the forest was silent. It was too early for the Twolegs and their yellow monsters to be awake. But the silence felt wrong. Cloudstar’s ears buzzed as he strained to hear the sound of any other living creatures. There were no bird-calls greeting the dawn, no squirrels scampering along the branches, not even butterflies stirring with the first rays of the sun. The forest felt empty, lifeless, and for the first time in Cloudstar’s life, unwelcoming.
He emerged from the woods where the trees had been felled and stood on a splintered stump to survey the devastation. This part of the forest had changed beyond anything Cloudstar could recognize. Where was the tiny path used by badgers and deer that had led to the open heathland beyond? Or the holly bush that had once sheltered Cloudstar and his fellow apprentices during a hailstorm? All the trees had gone, and now the squares of gray stones were being covered with smaller, bright red stones. Some rows were tall enough to have gaps in them, some spaces reaching all the way to the ground and others stopping at the height of a young Twoleg. Something stirred in Cloudstar’s mind. These constructions looked familiar…half-built, but definitely something he had seen before.
Twoleg nests! The Twolegs are building new nests on SkyClan’s territory!
Cloudstar looked around him. This was his home! Not the Twolegs’! Cloudstar felt a pain in his chest as if a Clanmate had died. There would be no chance to reclaim this part of the territory. It was lost forever, to Twolegs and their kits and monsters. Would they stop here? Or keep swallowing up the forest, tree by tree, until nothing remained? Cloudstar felt a yowl rise in his throat, and he tipped back his head and let his cry echo his despair across the half-built stone nests.
“My home! My precious home!”
His legs felt heavy as stone as he made his way back to the camp. What was he going to tell the Clan? They deserved to keep some whisker of hope. Perhaps Cloudstar didn’t have to force them to face the truth yet—at least, not until he had figured out a way for them to survive this. When he crawled through the brambles, he knew this was not the time to tell them anything. A soft keening sound came from Fawnstep’s den; it was Starlingfeather and Hawksnow, mourning their denmate.