Her heart leaped with hope as the brambles rustled at the entrance, but it was only Bramblestar.
“I saw you were back,” he meowed, hurrying across the den.
Jayfeather stared at him blindly in the darkness. “The Sisters aren’t sick, but they know what’s caused this and how to treat it.”
Bramblestar’s pelt prickled with surprise. “Will they be okay?” He glanced at Larksong and Sparkpelt’s nests.
Squirrelflight’s heart twisted with fear. “We don’t know if we found out in time.” She glanced at the other nests beside the den wall. Thriftpaw and Berrynose were sound asleep, their muzzles tucked beneath their paws. “Are they sick?”
“Not yet,” Alderheart told her.
“Ivypool is waiting outside,” Squirrelflight told him. “She needs to know that Thriftpaw’s still okay.”
As she spoke, Leafpool crashed through the trailing brambles and dropped a bundle of dandelion root from her jaws. “We didn’t stop to gather much, but it should do for now.” Her pelt was ruffled from running, and her tail was fluffed out.
Ivypool slid in after her, scanning the medicine den.
Alderheart hurried to meet her. “She’s fine,” he told the silver tabby, guiding her outside. Dawn light showed between the brambles as they pushed through. “There’s no sign of sickness. We just want to keep an eye on her for a day or two.”
Jayfeather scooped up a dandelion in his jaws and snapped off the thickest part. He began to chew it into a pulp.
Leafpool looked into Larksong’s nest. “We should treat Larksong first.” She frowned. “If we can get him to swallow it.”
“What about Sparkpelt?” Bramblestar’s eyes rounded.
“We’ll treat her afterward,” Leafpool told him.
Squirrelflight caught her sister’s eye. “How are the kits doing?”
Leafpool leaned over the edge of the nest and pressed her ear against Sparkpelt’s flank. “They’re quiet now,” she told Squirrelflight, straightening. “But I can still feel movement.”
Squirrelflight glanced at Bramblestar, her heart pressing in her throat. Would the Sisters’ treatment save Sparkpelt and the kits?
Jayfeather spat dandelion pulp onto his paw. “Hold his head,” he ordered Leafpool.
As Leafpool lifted Larksong’s head with a paw, Alderheart nosed his way back into the den and hurried to join them. Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar, craving the warmth of his pelt against hers. Jayfeather held his paw in front of the black tom’s muzzle. “If you open his mouth,” he told Leafpool, “I can smear it on his tongue. That should—”
He stopped as Larksong jerked in his nest. The black tom’s legs stiffened and his body twitched. A convulsion took hold of him; his back arched. He began to thrash wildly, as though a fox had seized his spine and was shaking him. Leafpool pressed her paws around his head. Alderheart leaped into the nest and pinned Larksong’s shoulders into the bracken, holding him down as spasms contorted his body.
Squirrelflight’s heart lurched. She pressed harder against Bramblestar.
“Larksong?” Sparkpelt’s alarmed mew sounded behind her. Sparkpelt was struggling blearily to her paws, her terrified gaze fixed on Larksong. “What’s happening to him?”
“It’s a fit,” Jayfeather told her. “It’ll stop in a moment.”
“It’ll kill him!” Sparkpelt wailed.
Squirrelflight’s paws seemed frozen to the earth. Was this going to happen to Sparkpelt next? On the far side of the den, Thriftpaw and Berrynose lifted their heads. Their eyes rounded in horror as they took in Larksong. Nervously, Thriftpaw climbed into Berrynose’s nest and huddled beside the pale warrior. Squirrelflight glanced at them, then turned her helpless gaze back on Larksong. The spasms were easing. The convulsions seemed to loosen with each jerk until he lay as limp as fresh prey, his head hanging over the edge of his nest.
Alderheart hopped out. He was trembling.
“Will he live?” Bramblestar’s mew was husky with fear.
Leafpool and Jayfeather exchanged glances.
Bracken crunched as Sparkpelt tried to haul herself from her nest. “Larksong.” The name came as a sob.
Squirrelflight nudged her back. “Rest,” she pleaded. “There’s nothing you can do to help him.”
“I can comfort him!” Sparkpelt grunted with effort as she pushed her mother away and padded shakily to Larksong’s nest. She rested her head beside his cheek. “Larksong,” she breathed, her gaze clouded with grief.
Squirrelflight’s heart seemed to crack. She blinked at Jayfeather. “Are you going to give him the dandelion root?” The pulp was still smeared on his paw.
He reached for a leaf and wiped it off. “It’s too late. He won’t be able to swallow this.” His blind blue gaze reached for Squirrelflight. “There’s nothing more we can do for him.”
“You have to save him,” Sparkpelt breathed weakly.
Jayfeather pushed the leaf toward her muzzle. “Swallow this.” He pointed his muzzle toward the pulp.
She didn’t seem to hear him.
Squirrelflight bent closer to her. “Eat the dandelion root,” she whispered. “It will help you and the kits.”
Sparkpelt’s gaze was fixed on Larksong.
