I wonder what Foxleap would say if I told him exactly what I can see from here?
“There’s RiverClan,” she mewed aloud. “You can just see their camp—there, between the two streams.”
“Too bad there are so many trees and bushes,” Foxleap responded, letting out a mischievous mrrow. “We could spy on them!”
I can do that just fine, thanks, trees or no trees. Dovewing located Minnowtail giving her apprentice a fishing lesson. “No, Mossypaw, sit where your shadow is behind you, not stretching over the water.”
“And the WindClan camp is over there” was all she meowed to Foxleap, waving her tail toward the moorland on their other side. “It’s in a hollow, but you can’t see it from here.”
“I forgot, you’ve been there.” Foxleap’s voice held a trace of envy. “Was it scary?”
“Pretty much,” Dovewing confessed. “I shouldn’t have—”
She broke off, her pelt bristling as a grief-stricken screech sounded in her ears. For a heartbeat she looked around wildly, half fearing that one of the patrol had been grabbed by a fox. But Squirrelflight and Jayfeather were still walking quietly a few tail-lengths ahead. Foxleap was staring at her as if she had gone mad.
The screech came again. “Antpelt! No!”
Dovewing froze. The dreadful cries of grief sounded so close, but they were coming from the WindClan camp.
Then she heard Kestrelflight’s voice. “Give me more cobwebs.” She was aware of blood pouring from Antpelt’s wounds, and sensed the fever raging inside the young tom’s body.
“Kestrelflight, do something!” Now Dovewing recognized Swallowtail’s voice; she had been the cat who had cried out before. “You can’t let him die.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” the medicine cat hissed. “I’ve given him horsetail and borage, but I can’t stop the infection from spreading.”
“Then give him more!”
Dovewing picked up the sound of a cat chewing borage leaves into a pulp and pushing them down Antpelt’s throat, but the dying warrior was too weak to swallow.
“Oh, StarClan!” That was Onestar’s voice, quiet but full of sorrow. “This is a young cat. Do you have to take him now?”
“I still don’t understand how he got wounds like that.” Dovewing wasn’t sure which cat was speaking now. Maybe Torn ear; I heard him at the Gathering. “I thought it was a dog bite, but none of the patrols have reported seeing dogs in the territory.”
“I know.” Dovewing recognized the other elder, Webfoot. “And those wounds don’t look like any dog bite I’ve ever seen. You’d almost think he’d been attacked by a cat.”
A disbelieving snort came from Tornear. “That’s impossible! He would have said something if it had been a rogue.”
“Antpelt…” Swallowtail whimpered. Dovewing remembered seeing her with Antpelt at a Gathering, and guessed that they had been mates. “Antpelt, please…”
“It’s no use.” Kestrelflight’s voice, heavy with defeat. “He hunts with StarClan now.”
Swallowtail let out another grief-stricken screech, but it seemed to fade into the background; Dovewing heard another cat much more clearly.
“Sunstrike, Furzepaw, come over here.” It was Breezepelt, his voice a low mutter. “Say nothing about the Dark Forest,” he warned. “Antpelt may be dead here, but he’ll still be in the Place of No Stars. Nothing’s changed; he’s still on our side.”
Oh, Ivypool! Horror shook Dovewing from ears to tail-tip. Cats from the Clans were dying because of what was happening in the Dark Forest! Should I go back to ThunderClan and tell her what happened to Antpelt?
“Dovewing!”
A yowl from Squirrelflight jerked Dovewing back to her surroundings. The ginger she-cat was standing farther up the hill, looking back at her with annoyance in her green eyes. Jayfeather was beside her, his claws plucking impatiently at the grass.
“You’re being left behind!” Squirrelflight scolded. “Get a move on!”
“Sorry! I’m coming!” Dovewing called back, forcing her paws to move. She hated feeling as if she was abandoning the Clans to the Dark Forest, but there was nothing she could do to help Antpelt. She just had to pray that Ivypool would be careful. Her sister wasn’t stupid; she’d know soon enough that Antpelt had died from his injuries. Deliberately Dovewing closed her ears to the sounds of grief coming from the WindClan camp.
Foxleap stayed beside her as she plodded up the hill. “It’s okay to be spooked when you’re so far away from home,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”
I can look after myself, thanks! Dovewing just stopped herself from snarling the words out loud. It’s not like I can tell him what the real problem is.
Still quivering from the shock of Antpelt’s death, Dovewing drew closer to the top of the hill. A couple of fox-lengths below her, Jayfeather stumbled over a rock. Instantly Squirrelflight was by his side, steadying him.
Jayfeather turned on her with a hiss. “I don’t need your help!”
Squirrelflight’s tail lashed. “Fine! Sprain your paw and finish your journey before it’s started. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she added more quietly. “Even sighted cats trip.”
Jayfeather let out a growl of annoyance and stomped away toward the hilltop.
As Dovewing took the final paw steps that brought her up to the ridge, she began to feel strong wind buffeting her fur. Behind her the lake looked small and distant, the different territories blending into one another. Ahead, thick forest covered the downward slope, leading to wide stretches of grass cut through by Thunderpaths. Everywhere she looked, she could see Twoleg dens: some standing alone, some clustered in groups.
All those dens together must be Twoleg camps.
Dovewing stood in a line with her Clanmates, wind flattening their fur and whistling around their ears. Instantly noise blasted through her mind, almost driving her back down the hill. Chaotic visions spiraled in front of her eyes; she froze, paws digging into the ground, as she tried to make sense of what she could see and hear. But the solid hilltop seemed to melt away under her paws, and she was whirled into a storm of noise and color.
A glittering red monster growled out of a flat-roofed Twoleg den; Twoleg kits ran and screeched; a huge black-and-white animal she’d never seen before stared at her from liquid eyes, its jaws moving rhythmically; a male Twoleg pushed a tiny, snarling monster across a stretch of grass, snapping at the stems; more dogs than she’d ever imagined were barking all together; somewhere water was gushing; the scent of crow-food washed over her.
Sick and giddy, Dovewing squeezed her eyes shut, but the whirl of images continued.
“Dovewing! Dovewing!” Foxleap’s voice cut faintly across the turmoil.
Dovewing couldn’t move. She tried to reply to Foxleap, but she couldn’t form the words. Then she became aware of another cat standing close to her.
“Dovewing!” It was Jayfeather’s voice, quiet but incisive. “Focus on me. Block out the rest of the noise.”
“Can’t—” Gasping out a single word was a huge effort.
“Yes, you can. Come on—concentrate!”
His voice was sharp, like a splash of icy water. One by one, Dovewing drew her senses back in. She dared to open her eyes and made out the blurred shape of Jayfeather in front of her.
“That’s better.” She could hear his voice more clearly now. “Focus harder. Don’t let go.”
There was still a dull, aching roar in Dovewing’s head, but she could feel the ground under her paws again, and see her companions; Squirrelflight and Foxleap were staring at her in alarm.
Foxleap drew his tail-tip gently down her side. “It’s all right,” he whispered.
“Are you okay to go on?” Squirrelflight demanded bluntly. “If you’re not, just tell us. It’s not too late for you to go back.”