Squirrelflight's Hope полностью

Squirrelflight struggled to breathe. She felt as though she were drowning. Closing her eyes, she fought the grief. Sparkpelt mustn’t know that one of her kits had died. She’d been through too much already, and she was still sick. Steadying her breath, Squirrelflight nudged Bramblestar with her nose. It seemed to shake him from his horror. He blinked at her questioningly.

“We must take the kits to Sorrelstripe,” she told him.

“She’s got her own kits.” Bramblestar blinked at her.

“Then she’ll have milk,” Squirrelflight told him. “She can feed these with her own until Sparkpelt can nurse them. Daisy will be there to help look after them.” She glanced at her daughter, her heart twisting as she saw raw grief in Sparkpelt’s eyes. She wanted to comfort her, but she knew Sparkpelt was lost in misery. I can’t help Sparkpelt yet, but I can take care of her kits. Squirrelflight shook out her pelt and scooped up the she-kit. “Bring the black kit,” she told Bramblestar.

He glanced toward the third kit, his black-and-orange pelt dull in the half-light. “What about that one?” His mew was soft and Squirrelflight guessed that he, too, didn’t want Sparkpelt to hear.

Squirrelflight gently laid the wriggling she-kit on the floor, then lifted the orange-and-black tom-kit, carrying him outside the den. She laid him in a bed of leaves, then returned to Bramblestar and picked up the she-kit again.

“Where did you take him?” Bramblestar asked as he scooped up the black tom-kit.

Squirrelflight put down the she-kit and gestured to the leaves as they left the den. “We can plan a vigil for Larksong and his kit when these kits are safe,” she said. “In the meantime, I don’t want Sparkpelt to see.”

She picked up the she-kit again and blinked at him. He seemed to understand, grief sparking in his gaze. As she headed for the trailing brambles, he followed her. Squirrelflight bent her head low to protect the kit from the prickles. They were going to get through this. No matter how much grief Sparkpelt was going to suffer, Squirrelflight was determined not to let her daughter down.

CHAPTER 18

As the sun slid behind the trees, Squirrelflight ducked into camp. Patrolling the borders with Leafshade, Honeyfur, and Fernsong hadn’t eased her grief. The forest usually soothed her, but the sadness, which gripped her heart like fox teeth, hadn’t eased. It tightened as she saw Larksong’s body laid in the clearing, ready for the vigil. His tiny orange-and-black kit lay at his side.

As she paused, gazing at them in the twilight, Fernsong stopped beside her.

“Will Sparkpelt be well enough to sit vigil?” the yellow tabby meowed.

“I don’t know.” Squirrelflight eyed the medicine den nervously. Leafpool had given Sparkpelt the dandelion root after she’d finished kitting. Had it washed out the poison yet?

Honeyfur gazed at her dead littermate. “I’ll sit vigil.”

“So will I.” Leafshade paused at her sister’s side. The tortoiseshell glanced at the stars, which were beginning to show in the darkening sky. “Larksong is with Snowbush now.”

Honeyfur met her gaze. “They’ll be watching over us.”

Squirrelflight left them beside Larksong and headed toward the medicine den.

As she nosed her way through the brambles, Leafpool got to her paws.

“The dandelion’s working,” Leafpool mewed. For the first time in days the tabby’s gaze was lit with hope. “I gave some to Berrynose and Thriftpaw just to be on the safe side, but I don’t think they were ever sick. I’ve sent them back to their dens.”

Squirrelflight was hardly listening. Her heart quickened as she hurried to Sparkpelt’s nest. Sparkpelt was curled like a dormouse at the bottom.

Leafpool followed. “Her heart is beating strongly now and her breath is steady.”

“Then why is she still sleeping?” Worry nagged at Squirrelflight’s belly.

“She’s been sick, and she kitted this morning. She’s exhausted. Sleep is the best remedy now.” Leafpool pressed close to Squirrelflight. “She’s going to be okay.”

Squirrelflight blinked at her sister. “Did you tell her about the kit that died?”

“Yes.” Leafpool’s gaze glistened.

“How did she react?”

“I don’t think she took it in.” Distress glittered for a moment in Leafpool’s eyes.

“Has she seen the other two yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Has she asked after them?” Squirrelflight’s pelt prickled nervously. What if Sparkpelt could only associate the kits with Larksong’s death? She might never learn to love them properly.

“She’s only woken once,” Leafpool told her.

“And she didn’t mention them?”

Leafpool’s eyes rounded sympathetically. “She’s been sick.”

“Kits should be with their mother.” Squirrelflight’s thoughts whirled. Daisy would comfort them and Sorrelstripe would feed them, but the kits should have Sparkpelt’s love.

“They are safe,” Leafpool told her. “That’s most important now. It’s best they don’t have Sparkpelt’s milk until the poison is out of her system.”

Squirrelflight shifted her paws. “What if she doesn’t bond with them?”