Sandstorm lifted her head. “I’ll ask the medicine cats for some honey.” She sniffed. “I’ll be fine. And why don’t I sleep in the apprentices’ den, since that’s empty? That way I won’t disturb anyone.”
Purdy’s shoulders slumped and Dovewing wondered if she should offer to sleep in Mousefur’s old nest beside him. He must be feeling cold on his own, now that the frost had taken hold. Before she could say anything, Berrynose stepped forward.
“The warriors’ den is kind of cramped,” he mewed to Bramblestar. “Poppyfrost and I would be happy to sleep in with Purdy, if he’ll have us.”
The old tabby cat’s eyes lit up. “Glad to give you room,” he meowed. “I’d better go and sort out some nests.” He bustled off, his tail straight up.
“That was kind of Berrynose and Poppyfrost,” Dovewing murmured to Ivypool, who was standing beside her.
Her sister narrowed her eyes. “Do you think so? Or are they just desperate to get away from those ferocious Dark Forest cats who sleep too close to them?”
Dovewing stared at her in shock. “But it’s been almost a whole moon since you swore your new oath! Surely you’ve been forgiven by now?”
“Not by some cats,” Ivypool growled. “Haven’t you seen how Dustpelt would rather wait until the fresh-kill pile has been stripped of all the best prey, rather than go up at the same time as one of us?” She padded away, her tail leaving a tiny line in the frostbitten grass.
“We’ll sleep in the elders’ den too,” piped up Cherrypaw, nodding to her brother, Molepaw.
That makes sense, since Poppyfrost and Berrynose are their mother and father, Dovewing thought. But then she saw Molepaw glare at Birchfall, and her belly flipped over. Those cats had done nothing but serve their Clan loyally since the Great Battle. How could there be anything left to forget?
“That’s fine,” meowed Squirrelflight to the young cats. “I’ll join Sandstorm in the apprentices’ den, and that way there will be more room for the other warriors while the new den is being built.” When Sandstorm started to protest, Squirrelflight blinked affectionately at her mother. “I’ll be there whether you like it or not,” she purred. “It’s too cold for you to sleep alone.”
There was a flurry of activity as the cats scattered to prepare new nests. Dovewing stayed where she was, as if her paws had frozen to the grass. Her ears were buzzing again and shadows clustered at the edges of her mind, making her heart beat faster. Dividing the warriors into separate dens felt like a terrible omen; the Clan was splitting apart, in spite of everything they had survived together. Had the Great Battle been forgotten already? Or were her Clanmates determined only to remember whose loyalty had been questioned, without recalling the courage every cat showed to drive out the Dark Forest attackers?
“Dovewing? Are you all right?” Whitewing was peering at her with a concerned look in her eyes.
Dovewing shook herself, sending drops of mist flying from her pelt. “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t you help me fetch some moss?” Whitewing suggested. “It feels like ages since I spent any time with you!”
They squeezed through the new barrier of thorns, which seemed denser and pricklier than before, and trotted down the slope toward the lake. Their route to the best moss took them past the place where the dead cats had been buried and Dovewing slowed down to look at the peaceful mounds of soil, each one silvered with a thin coating of ice. “Can you see what is happening to us?” she whispered. “Do you feel as if you died for nothing?”
“Oh little one, you don’t really think that, do you?” mewed Whitewing.
Dovewing jumped; she hadn’t heard her mother come up. Of course I didn’t hear! I can’t hear anything! She took a deep breath. “It feels as if everything has gotten worse since the Great Battle,” she confessed. “The warriors who were involved with the Dark Forest are being treated worse than rogues, and no one seems to remember that the cats lying here gave their lives so that we could win the battle.” She couldn’t bring herself to talk about her senses; that was something she had to deal with alone.
Whitewing rested her tail on Dovewing’s spine. “All battles leave deep wounds, whether you can see them or not. And wounds take time to heal. You know that, Dovewing. Don’t give up hope.” She turned and headed down toward the lake, which was shining gray and still through the trunks.
Dovewing watched her walk away. She thought of Foxleap, dying from infection in the medicine den. But some wounds never heal, whatever you do.
It was the night of the Gathering. A huge white moon hung above the hollow, turning the cats to silver and casting sharp-edged shadows across the ground. This would be the first Gathering since the Great Battle, the first chance to see how the Clans they had fought alongside were faring, and yet the mood among the ThunderClan cats was somber, even reluctant. Berrynose was muttering to Toadstep, close enough for Dovewing to hear.
“I can’t believe Bramblestar wants to take Blossomfall and Thornclaw with us. Does he want to draw attention to the traitors in our own Clan?”
Toadstep flicked his thick black-and-white tail. “The other Clans managed to kill most of their traitors,” he hissed back. “Maybe we should have done the same!”
Dovewing bounded forward. “And maybe you should realize that your Clanmates did nothing wrong when it came to fighting our enemies!” she spat.
“Dovewing! Stop! What’s going on?” Squirrelflight trotted over, her fur fluffed up in alarm.
Dovewing twitched her ears, reluctant to let Toadstep and Berrynose think she was about to go running to the deputy with her complaint.
“Just a difference of opinion,” Berrynose meowed. He glanced at Dovewing. “Some cats seem to believe we aren’t allowed to think for ourselves.”
Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes. “See that full moon up there? This is the night of the truce—and that goes for Clanmates as well as the other Clans. Come on, or we’ll be late.” She trotted to the entrance where Bramblestar was waiting with the rest of the Gathering patrol.
Dovewing glared at Berrynose and Toadstep, then followed the deputy. Blossomfall was waiting for her, looking troubled. “I saw what happened,” the tortoiseshell-and-white warrior mewed. “Don’t try to fight this battle for us. It will take time to prove our loyalty, that’s all.”
“It shouldn’t be a battle!” Dovewing growled. “You swore the oath, and you did nothing to harm us during the Great Battle!”
“The warrior code means everything,” Blossomfall reminded her. “And that’s just as it should be.”
They joined the other cats squeezing through the new barrier of thorns, wincing as tufts of fur got left behind on the prickles. “If this barrier doesn’t soften up soon, we’re all going to be bald!” muttered Graystripe.
As the cats headed down through the trees toward the shore, Dovewing trotted to catch up with Bumblestripe. They’d basked together in an unexpected burst of sunshine earlier that day, and she was feeling warm and affectionate toward him. “Wait for me!” she puffed.
The big gray-and-black tom paused and looked back at her. “Come on, little legs!” he teased.
They reached the shore with the others and turned along the stony beach. The pebbles gleamed in the moonlight, and tiny waves lapped beside them. Dovewing cast her hearing out the way she used to on these nights, listening for the preparations for departure in each of the other Clans. Were they feeling apprehensive about this Gathering, too? But her ears were full of the sound of paws crunching over stones and water washing on the shore.