The entrance shivered as Larksong pushed his way into the nursery. He looked tired, his eyes dull, his fur slicked by the rain. He brightened as he saw Sparkpelt. “How are you?” He slid past Squirrelflight and pressed his nose to his mate’s cheek.
“I’m fine.” She purred happily and licked his ear.
Larksong sat back on his haunches and burped.
Sparkpelt’s whiskers twitched teasingly. “I hope you’re not going to teach our kits those manners.”
“Sorry.” Larksong looked chastened. “I shouldn’t have had that extra mouse. But nobody else seemed to want it, and the hunting patrol will bring fresh prey later.” His mew was husky. Did he have a chill? He dipped his head to Squirrelflight, as though suddenly realizing she was there. “I promise I’ll be the perfect father to your daughter’s kits.”
Squirrelflight purred. “I’m sure you will be.” Sparkpelt was lucky to have such a good mate. “I think you’re going to be very happy.” Her heart ached with fondness, and she wondered how she had even considered telling Sparkpelt how much she wanted kits of her own.
Larksong shivered. “I was coming to lie down. I’ve been feeling tired all morning. I don’t know why. I’ve only been on dawn patrol.” He looked puzzled. “I don’t seem to be able to catch my breath.”
“It’s probably the wet weather,” Squirrelflight suggested. She blinked at him playfully. “You’re going to have to get fit before the kits arrive. They’ll keep you on your paws day and night.”
Larksong purred. “Don’t worry about that. I plan to make sure they have everything they need.” He got to his paws. “I can’t wait to give them their first badger ride.” Padding up and down the den, he glanced over his shoulder. “Can you imagine them up there on my back?” He stopped suddenly.
Alarm sparked in Squirrelflight’s fur as Larksong’s gaze froze. Pain glittered in his eyes, as though he’d been swiped across the muzzle with powerful claws.
Sparkpelt must have seen it too. “Larksong?” Fear edged her mew.
Larksong’s eyes grew suddenly dull. They rolled back as his paws buckled and he dropped to the ground.
“Larksong!” Sparkpelt darted to his side, bristling with horror. Squirrelflight pressed beside her, terror hollowing her belly. Larksong wasn’t moving. His flanks were still.
“Stay with him,” she told Sparkpelt. “I’ll fetch a medicine cat.”
She pelted from the den, rain spraying her face as she raced for the medicine den and burst inside. “Help!”
Alderheart looked up sharply from the herbs he was mixing. “What is it?”
“Larksong! He’s collapsed in the nursery.” Squirrelflight fought back panic as Alderheart pelted past her, out of the den. She hurried after him.
Bramblestar looked up from his squirrel. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Larksong! He’s sick!” Squirrelflight pushed her way into the nursery after Alderheart. Fear-scent flooded the den.
Alderheart pressed his ear to Larksong’s chest.
Sparkpelt stared at him, her pelt spiked. “Is he okay?” Her mew came as a sob.
“His heart is beating.” Alderheart sat up. “But we have to get him started breathing again.”
Sparkpelt seemed to freeze. “Will he die?”
Squirrelflight slid in beside her. “Alderheart will do what he can.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Sparkpelt was trembling.
Squirrelflight pressed against her. “Breathe,” she told Sparkpelt. “You don’t want this to affect the kits.”
Bramblestar had pushed his way into the den. He stared, his eyes wide.
Alderheart glanced at him. “Fetch Leafpool. She’s in the elders’ den with Millie. Tell her to come quickly. I need help. Now!”
Bramblestar raced out as the dark ginger medicine cat pressed his paws onto Larksong’s flank and began pumping his chest.
Squirrelflight’s paws seemed to freeze as she watched.
Sparkpelt was stiff beside her, gulping juddering breaths as Alderheart worked on Larksong. “Don’t let him die,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let him die.”
Squirrelflight felt time slow as she watched Alderheart press harder and harder, pumping at Larksong’s chest as though trying to shock him into life. He mustn’t die now. He had to see his kits. He’d been so excited. They mustn’t grow up without a father. Suddenly, Larksong gasped. A spasm seemed to grasp him and shake him into a long, trembling breath. Then he lay still. Squirrelflight heard blood roaring in her ears. “Is he alive?”
Alderheart bent his head to Larksong’s chest.
Even before he sat up, Squirrelflight saw Larksong’s chest moving. “He’s breathing,” she whispered. Relief swamped her. She looked at Sparkpelt. “He’s alive!”
Sparkpelt slumped against her. As Squirrelflight moved, her daughter slid to the ground, staring at Larksong with wide, desperate eyes.
CHAPTER 14
