Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

“We’re nearly at the elders’ den,” Dustpelt announced. His pelt was threaded with splinters, and blood oozed from his paws.

Lionblaze looked down the tunnel to the last pair of branches blocking their way. “I can push my way through.”

“Do it,” ordered Firestar. “We’ll shift them while you’re inside so that you can get Longtail and Briarpaw out.”

Millie and Graystripe stood side by side, looking past the rescue operation at the crumpled honeysuckle. Their daughter was somewhere in the wreckage.

“Please, StarClan,” whispered Millie. “Let her be okay.”

“She’ll be fine,” Firestar vowed, his eyes dark.

Jayfeather raced back with Rosepetal. As he passed Millie and Graystripe, Lionblaze noticed him stiffen as though he’d stepped on a thorn. He can feel their grief.

Rosepetal was peering through the fractured branches into the medicine den. “I can get through,” she announced. Paws first, she wriggled between the spars, grunting a little as her hind legs and tail disappeared into the golden leaves. “What do you want me to get?” she called out.

While Jayfeather began to describe the herbs he would need, Lionblaze padded down the tunnel toward the honeysuckle bush. His heart was pounding and he could feel Graystripe’s and Millie’s worried gazes on his pelt. What if he found only dead bodies? He pushed away the thought and shouldered his way past the two remaining branches. The bark tore his fur as he squeezed his way through, hope pricking as he felt soft honeysuckle tendrils beneath his paws. Delving into the crushed heap, he squirmed into what was left of the elders’ den.

A tiny space opened up in front of him. Only Mousefur’s nest remained; the others were hidden underneath shattered branches.

Then he saw the body.

Twisted. Limp. Lifeless.

As he stared, stiff with grief, Dustpelt squeezed in beside him.

“We’ve cleared the last two branches,” the tabby warrior began. His voice trailed away when he saw the body. “Longtail.” The name caught in his throat.

With a strange choking feeling in his throat, Lionblaze lifted the pale tabby elder by the scruff and dragged him from what was left of the den. The old cat was light as a squirrel in his jaws as Lionblaze pulled him through the tunnel and laid him on the bare ground.

Firestar dipped his head while Graystripe pressed close to Millie.

“Did you see Briarpaw?” the gray warrior whispered.

As Lionblaze shook his head, Dustpelt called from inside the den, “She’s alive! Quick!”

Lionblaze dashed back with Graystripe pressing on his tail. As they raced along the makeshift tunnel, an ominous snap cracked the air. A prop snapped beside them, spraying splinters. The tree shivered as another prop broke.

“It’s not going to hold!” Millie’s terrified mew wailed behind them.

Ignoring her, Lionblaze ducked into the remains of the elders’ den. Graystripe squashed in beside him. Dustpelt was crouching on Mousefur’s nest, his muzzle probing a branch where the beech had crushed the honeysuckle into a mangled mass of tendrils. As Lionblaze slid in beside the tabby tom he saw Briarpaw looking up at him, her face twisted with pain.

“I can’t move,” she croaked.

Her hind legs were pinned. She screeched as the beech trembled again.

Lionblaze tensed at the sound of another prop splintering behind them. “We’ve got to get her out now!”

“How?” Dustpelt gasped. “The tree’s collapsing and she’s trapped.”

“I’ll get her!” Graystripe grabbed her scruff.

As Briarpaw squealed in terror and pain, Lionblaze knocked the gray tom away. “You’ll kill her,” he warned. Without thinking, he pressed his back against a wide branch that spanned the crushed den. Pressing his paws to the ground, he arched his spine, forcing his shoulders up until he felt the whole weight of the tree. The branch shuddered and creaked and began to shift upward.

“Y-you’re moving it!” Dustpelt whispered.

“Grab her now!” Lionblaze panted as he felt the tree move another whisker.

Graystripe leaned forward and grabbed his daughter’s scruff.

“Gently!” Lionblaze warned. The weight on his shoulders was agonizing. But he wouldn’t leave his Clanmate to die. Outside the den, wood splintered and cracked.

“The props are going!” Millie shrieked.

Slowly, carefully, Graystripe drew Briarpaw from under the branch. “I’ve got her,” he mewed through her fur.

Briarpaw whimpered as her father pulled her out.

Dustpelt stared down the tunnel as the pair disappeared.

Lionblaze felt his lungs screaming as he fought for breath, his legs trembling beneath him.

“They’re clear!” Dustpelt reported.

“You go too!” Lionblaze yelped.

Dustpelt scooted away between the branches as the tree groaned and wood splintered.

With a last heaving gasp, Lionblaze ducked out from underneath the branch and dived after Dustpelt. The tree crumpled around him and he shot from the tunnel a moment before the last prop gave way and the tree fell to a shuddering halt, its roots slamming against the nursery. With a heaving crash, its branches flopped to the ground like corpses.

Darkness crowded Lionblaze’s vision as he struggled to catch his breath. His legs shivered but he refused to let them buckle. He waited, letting strength gather within him and spread through his limbs. Then he stretched and blinked the darkness away.

A tail smoothed his back.

“Well done, Lionblaze.” Firestar was at his side.

Graystripe and Millie were crouching beside Briarpaw. Jayfeather grabbed a mouthful of herbs from the pile Rosepetal had passed through the branches. He dropped them next to Briarpaw and began to sniff her limp body.

“Will she be okay?” Millie rasped.

The young cat’s breath was coming in gasps and her eyes were glazed.

“I don’t think she can see us,” Graystripe wailed.

“Out of my way!” Jayfeather scooted around Briarpaw, sniffing her pelt, his eyes narrowed in a frown.

“Longtail?” called a trembling voice. It was Whitewing.

Lionblaze turned and saw the Clan creeping back into the hollow. They padded slowly, edging what was left of the clearing, and sniffing at the remains of their devastated camp. Blossompaw and Bumblepaw broke away and raced to Graystripe and Millie, pressing hard against them.

“Will Briarpaw be okay?” Bumblepaw whimpered.

Mousefur darted from Whitewing’s side and began to circle Longtail’s body. “No, no, no, no, no,” she moaned.

Purdy shuffled close to the old she-cat as she dropped to her belly and pressed her nose into her denmate’s chilly pelt.

Dovepaw and Ivypaw stared in horror at Briarpaw’s unmoving body.

“Is she dead?” Ivypaw whispered.

“Don’t just stand there like rabbits,” Lionblaze snapped. “Go and fetch her some moss. Try to make her comfortable!”

The two cats sprang away and raced from the hollow. They passed Leafpool, who padded through the thorns and halted. Through slitted eyes, she watched Jayfeather work.

Jayfeather lifted his head to face her. “Well?” he snarled. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Leafpool blinked, pain flashing in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened. “What do you want me to do?” She slid in beside Jayfeather and sniffed at Briarpaw.

“Shock’s setting in fast,” Jayfeather reported.

“She needs thyme,” Leafpool instructed. “I’ll make pulp.” She took a mouthful of leaves from the pile and began to chew them.

Jayfeather sat up. “I can’t find where she’s hurt. There’s not a scratch on her.” He sounded perplexed.

Briarpaw’s eyelids flickered. “I-I c-can’t feel my hind legs.”