SUNSET

Brackenfur touched his nose to Sorreltail’s ear, promised, “I’ll be right back,” and slipped out of the nursery past Cinderpelt’s body.

Sorreltail’s gaze followed him. “It’s my fault Cinderpelt died.” Her voice rasped with grief. “She could have escaped the badger, but she stayed to help me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Leafpool sounded unusually fierce, and Brambleclaw glanced at her in surprise. “Cinderpelt was doing her duty as a medicine cat. That was the choice she made.”

“That’s true,” meowed Squirrelflight. “Sorreltail, just think—if Cinderpelt had left you, the badger might have killed you too, and your kits. You wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”

Sorreltail shook her head, shuddering.

“They’re beautiful kits,” Brambleclaw said, trying to distract her. He got a good look at the newest members of ThunderClan for the first time. “Have you given them names yet?”

Sorreltail nodded. “This one is Molekit.” She touched the biggest kit’s head with the tip of her tail. “He’s the only tom. Then this is Honeykit and Poppykit.” She touched in turn a pale bracken-coloured tabby and a tortoiseshell-and-white kit who looked like a tiny copy of Sorreltail. “And this is Cinderkit.”

Brambleclaw heard a gasp from Squirrelflight. The fluffy grey kit looked hauntingly familiar, and he couldn’t help casting a rapid glance at the body of Cinderpelt behind him. Leafpool, bent over Rainwhisker’s injured leg, froze for a heartbeat. “I think Cinderpelt would like that,” she mewed softly, then carried on with what she was doing.

“They all look strong and healthy,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Come on, Squirrelflight, we have a job to do for Cinderpelt now.”

Squirrelflight paused and touched Leafpool lightly on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “You should get some rest soon,” she mewed. “You look awful.”

“I don’t have time to rest,” Leafpool responded, not looking at her. “What are all these wounded cats going to do if I take a nap?”

Squirrelflight’s gaze was troubled. “But I’m worried about you. I can feel how tough it is for you right now.”

This time Leafpool didn’t reply. Brambleclaw could see that she just wanted to be left alone to take care of Rainwhisker. He nudged Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Come on,” he repeated, lowering his voice to add, “give her a bit of space. She can cope; she just needs time.”

Squirrelflight still looked uncertain, but she turned round in the tight space and helped Brambleclaw carry Cinderpelt’s limp body out of the nursery. Daisy and the kits were still huddled by the entrance with Cloudtail and Ferncloud. Brightheart had brought the marigold and was treating Birchpaw’s wounds.

“You can’t leave,” Cloudtail was protesting. “You and the kits belong here.”

Daisy shook her head, her gaze falling on the dead medicine cat. “My kits could have been killed,” she mewed. “Or I could have died, and then what would happen to them? They’ll be safer back at the horseplace.”

All three of her kits let out meows of protest.

“But what about the Twolegs?” Cloudtail pressed. “You came here in the first place because you were afraid they would take your kits away from you.”

Daisy flexed her claws, her eyes clouded with indecision. Before she could speak, Brightheart meowed, “The kits might be safe from the Twolegs by now. After all, they’re nearly old enough to make themselves useful, catching rats and mice in the barn.”

“But we don’t want to go back there,” Berrykit wailed. “We want to stay here.”

Daisy flicked him with her tail. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want a badger to come and get you?”

“But none of you are hurt,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “The Clan made sure you were safe.”

“Please stay,” Ferncloud urged. “Life will be much easier now that newleaf is here.”

Daisy gave her a doubtful look. “Can you promise me the badgers won’t come back?”

“No cat can promise that,” Cloudtail replied, “but I’ll bet we won’t see anything of them for a good long time.”

Daisy shook her head and pushed her kits in front of her into the nursery. “Come along. You need to rest after such a dreadful night.”

“But we’re not tired,” Mousekit complained.

Daisy didn’t reply. She cast one more glance back at Cloudtail, full of fear and uncertainty, before she vanished.

Ferncloud followed her. “I’ll just see her settled.”

“Daisy could be right, you know,” Brightheart meowed, without looking at Cloudtail. “She knows what’s best for her kits, and maybe they would all feel safer back at the horse-place.”

Cloudtail opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.

“You’d better get over to Leafpool’s den,” Brightheart told him, as if she didn’t want to talk about the horseplace cat any more. “That torn claw is bleeding again. You need more cobwebs.”

Cloudtail glanced at the nursery entrance and muttered, “Right, I’ll be off, then.”

Brambleclaw turned back to Cinderpelt, his heart twisting with grief as he gazed at the sleek grey body, the blue eyes glazed and empty. Squirrelflight stood beside him with her head bowed; Brambleclaw saw a shiver pass through her and he pressed himself against her side, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. When she didn’t move, he stood for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.

“Come on,” he mewed softly. “The night will be over soon. It’s time for her vigil.”

He and Squirrelflight picked up Cinderpelt’s body again to carry her across the clearing and lay her beside Sootfur. Spiderleg and Whitepaw were crouching with their noses pressed into the grey-black warrior’s pelt.

“Goodbye,” Brambleclaw murmured, touching his nose to Cinderpelt’s fur. “StarClan will honour you.”

“We’ll miss you,” Squirrelflight added. “And we’ll never forget you.”

Brambleclaw would have liked to crouch beside the dead medicine cat and keep a proper vigil for her, but there was too much to do. He padded across to Firestar, who was still in the centre of the camp with Stormfur, Brook, and Midnight.

“I think we should start on the warriors’ den,” he meowed.

Midnight dipped her head to Firestar. “I go now,” she announced. “By night is travel well.”

“But you must be as tired as the rest of us,” Firestar protested. “Stay until you have slept for a while.”

Midnight’s white-striped head swung around as she surveyed the shattered camp. “No more here for me to do. I go back to sea cave, hear beating of waves on shore, rustle of wind in grasses.”

“ThunderClan would have been destroyed if you hadn’t brought WindClan to help us. We can never thank you enough.”

“No need is thanks. Too late warning come. My kin not hear talk of peace.”

“But why?” Brook asked, her eyes wide with distress. “In the mountains, we’ve never had trouble with badgers. Are they like Sharptooth, wanting to kill cats for their prey?”

Midnight shook her head. “My kin not eat cats. But cats drive them from territory, first from RiverClan on other side of lake, then from here. Revenge they want, and take territory back.”

“I remember Hawkfrost reporting that at the Gathering,” Firestar meowed. “He was the RiverClan warrior who drove the badger out.”

Brambleclaw drew a sharp breath, ready to defend his half-brother. Were his Clanmates going to blame Hawkfrost for the badger attack?

“We drove a badger out of our territory too,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “With her kits. And to think I felt sorry for her!”