“Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us, Purdy,” Squirrelflight meowed. “Is there anything else?”
The old tabby cat twitched his ears. “Well, Mousefur used to like watchin’ the sun go down over the lake. She said it looked like the water was on fire.” His voice trailed off and he swallowed. “So I was goin’ to bury her where she’d still get a good view. P’raps over there.” He nodded toward a grassy mound with a clear line of sight to the lake. “I know she’s not really here, but it feels like the right place for her.”
Sandstorm moved beside him and ran her tail over his bony spine. “It’s a lovely idea, Purdy. Of course we can do that.”
Dovewing blinked away the moisture that was gathering in her eyes. “Come on,” she mewed to Ivypool. “Let’s find a place for Hollyleaf.”
The cats began to move quietly through the trees, choosing soft but well-drained spots for each hole. Poppyfrost stopped beside a young holly bush growing beside the mound that Purdy had selected for Mousefur. “What about here?” she called over her shoulder.
Cloudtail walked over and prodded the soil with his paw. “Yes, this should be okay.” He started to scrape away the leaf mulch, pushing it further under the tree. Dovewing and Ivypool went over to join him and began to scoop up the earth. On top of the mound, she heard Bumblestripe, Cinderheart, and Lionblaze marking a space for Mousefur.
“Make it a bit longer,” Purdy ordered. “Give ’er room to stretch out.”
Silence fell among the trees, apart from the sounds of digging and an occasional grunt of effort. Dovewing’s fur felt hot and prickly but she kept going, even though damp earth was wedged uncomfortably beneath her claws and her eyes stung from bits of dirt that flicked up from Ivypool’s paws. Poppyfrost and Cloudtail worked at the other end of the hole, cramped against the holly bush but uncomplaining even when sharp-pointed leaves pricked their skin.
“Ow!” There was an exclamation followed by a muffled curse from somewhere above Dovewing’s head. She looked up and saw Lionblaze holding up his front paw. Blood dripped from a broken claw.
Cinderheart bounded over to him. “What happened?”
Lionblaze shook his paws, scattering scarlet drops onto the moss. “I caught it on a root,” he meowed. “I’m okay.”
Cinderheart tipped her head on one side. “Are you sure?” Her voice was heavy with meaning, and Dovewing understood. Lionblaze wasn’t supposed to get hurt like other cats. It was the power that made him invincible in battle. If the Dark Forest cats couldn’t injure him, why should a harmless tree root?
Lionblaze turned back to the hole. “I told you, it’s nothing,” he growled, his voice muffled by flying earth.
Dovewing started digging again. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. Lionblaze is exhausted from the battle. He can’t protect himself like he usually does. The buzzing in her ears drowned out the sound of her paws scrabbling in the dirt until Dovewing could hear nothing except her own breathing.
At last the five cats had been laid in their earthy nests and covered over. Purdy checked each one carefully to make sure that no scent clung to the top layer of leaves. “We don’t want to attract anything that might be hungry,” he explained. Dovewing felt a rush of affection for the old cat. At this moment, no one would ever think he wasn’t Clanborn, and had never been a warrior.
The cats trailed back to the hollow and sank down in the clearing, too exhausted to fetch anything from the fresh-kill pile. It was well-stocked with two sparrows and a squirrel; Dovewing guessed that Birchfall and the others had gone hunting. A gesture of reconciliation, she wondered? But she noticed that none of the cats who had been involved in the burials made any effort to thank their Clanmates, or even speak to them. Dovewing winced as Dustpelt walked straight past Birchfall without looking at him. He’s your son! she wanted to yowl. He’s not your enemy!
Night was falling and cats were just starting to stir in search of their temporary nests when the sound of paw steps came from the entrance to the hollow and Bramblestar leaped over the flattened brambles. Jayfeather followed more cautiously, picking his way through the tendrils.
Dovewing stared at the new ThunderClan leader. His dark brown coat looked glossier than before, as if lit by starshine, and his amber eyes glowed. Was that because he had been given nine lives? Dovewing strained to hear the whispers of StarClan warriors around him, but there was nothing but the sound of her Clanmates moving tiredly through the camp. She scolded herself for being fanciful.
Squirrelflight limped over to meet Bramblestar in the center of the hollow. “Welcome back,” she purred, dipping her head. She seemed to be in awe of him too.
Bramblestar looked around and narrowed his eyes when he saw Birchfall, Thornclaw, Mousewhisker, and Blossomfall sitting at the edge of the clearing, a little distance off from the other cats. “What’s going on?” he mewed. “Haven’t you all been burying the others today?”
Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar. She spoke close to his ear, the flicking of her tail-tip betraying her discomfort. Dovewing leaned toward them, straining to hear what the deputy was saying.
“I don’t think that’s a conversation for your ears,” meowed a voice behind her.
Dovewing jumped and looked around to see her mother watching her with concern in her pale blue eyes. “You… you said you can hear things,” Whitewing went on. “Even when you’re not close enough to listen like other cats.”
Dovewing nodded. To her surprise, Whitewing sighed and stroked Dovewing’s shoulder with her tail. “That must feel very strange,” she murmured. “Do you ever get any peace? I wish you had told me sooner. I might have been able to help.”
“It was part of a prophecy,” Dovewing mewed, feeling very uncomfortable. “I was given this power to help the Clans against the Dark Forest. It’s okay, I promise.”
Her mother straightened up, still looking troubled. “If you ever want to talk to me about it, I’m always here.” She nodded toward Bramblestar and Squirrelflight. “And I still think that even if you can hear something, it doesn’t mean that you should.”
Dovewing glanced down at her paws. “It’s okay,” she mewed. “I can’t make out what they’re saying anyway. My ears haven’t stopped buzzing from the battle yet, and my head hurts.”
“Why don’t you go and see if Jayfeather can give you something for that?” Whitewing prompted. “All the injuries have been treated now. There’s no need for you to be in pain.”
Dovewing padded to the entrance to the medicine den and peered through the screen of brambles. “Jayfeather? May I come in?”
The medicine cat’s head appeared through the fronds. His fur stood on end and his face was taut with tension. “Is it urgent?” he snapped. “Leafpool’s asleep and I’m in the middle of changing Foxleap’s dressings.”
“How is he?” Dovewing asked, her belly tightening.
Jayfeather looked over his shoulder at the warrior, who was a faint hunched shape inside the den. Briarlight was propped on her forelegs beside him, licking his ears. “Not good,” Jayfeather replied. “Now, what do you want?”
“It’s okay, it can wait,” Dovewing meowed. She started to back away. “I’ll come back tomorrow if I need to.”
Jayfeather vanished back into the den, leaving Dovewing staring at the quivering brambles. She was used to Jayfeather’s short temper and brisk manner, but this was different. He seemed… frightened. But what could be more terrifying than the attack from the Dark Forest? The battle had been won. Surely there was nothing left to be scared of?