Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

Jayfeather leaned forward and gently took one leg in his jaws to lift it up. He let go and it dropped to the ground like dead prey. “Is that thyme ready yet?” he called to Leafpool.

“Yes.” She began wiping the pulp around Briarpaw’s lips with her paw. Instinctively Briarpaw licked it off and Leafpool applied more.

Millie was pacing around them, her eyes clouded with grief. “What’s wrong with her?” she begged.

Jayfeather didn’t answer. Instead he glanced up at Lionblaze. “Comfrey, please.”

Lionblaze hurried to the medicine den entrance and called through the branches to Rosepetal, “Jayfeather needs comfrey!”

“I’ve got loads,” Rosepetal meowed back. She began stuffing pawfuls of leaves through the branches.

Lionblaze grabbed a mouthful and carried them to Jayfeather. “Will she be okay?” he whispered.

“Her heartbeat is getting steadier, but her legs…” Jayfeather’s words trailed into a frustrated growl. He flicked Lionblaze away with his tail.

Ferncloud was trying to comfort Graystripe and Millie. “If anyone can save her, Jayfeather can.” She glanced at Jayfeather as he began rubbing a dark green poultice into Briarpaw’s hind legs. “And he’s got Leafpool helping,” she added in a hopeful whisper.

Firestar straightened up. “Dustpelt!” he called. “See if the nursery is secure. We can at least make sure the queens and kits have some shelter.” He glanced around the camp, which was half-hidden by the beech. “The apprentices’ den looks okay.” He nodded to Cloudtail and Squirrelflight. “Check that it’s secure. Then collect bedding. As much as you can find. The elders and queens and kits will sleep inside tonight. But the rest of us will still need nests.”

Squirrelflight nodded and beckoned to Berrynose, Thornclaw, and Brackenfur with her tail before charging out of the camp.

“Should I go with them?” Lionblaze offered.

Firestar gazed at him. “You’ve done enough for the Clan for today,” he murmured. “Thank you. And thank StarClan we have you. If it wasn’t for you, Briarpaw would be dead by now.”

Lionblaze looked at Briarpaw lying on the sodden ground. Leafpool was massaging her chest with a firm paw, her eyes more focused than they had been in moons.

Briarpaw opened her eyes and stared at her father and mother. “Where are my back legs? Are they still there?”

Millie let out a muffled squeak, and the fur rose along Graystripe’s spine. Briarpaw’s hind legs were stretched out behind her, looking just as they always had, strong and glossy. But she couldn’t feel them—and if she couldn’t feel them, she couldn’t stand or walk or run…

A torrent of grief swept through Lionblaze, and for one unbearable moment he wondered if the lively young apprentice would thank him for saving her life.

Jayfeather lifted his head and sniffed the dawn breeze. The air was fresh with the tang of sap from the fallen tree and musty with wet leaves and mud. He felt the warmth of Millie’s pelt against his. The gray queen was wrapped around her kit.

Briarpaw slept on, the poppy seed he’d given her last night still heavy on her breath. He could sense the weight in her limbs and the emptiness of feeling in her hind legs.

Aching with the strain of yesterday’s disaster, he sniffed at his patient, his whiskers brushing over Millie’s pelt as he leaned into Briarpaw’s nest.

Millie raised her head. “How is she?”

“She’s safe from the shock,” he told her. Briarpaw’s heart beat steadily beneath her clammy pelt.

“What about her legs?” Millie’s mew trembled.

“I don’t know.” Jayfeather stifled a growl. He hated being so helpless.

Outside, warriors were moving in the half clearing. Jayfeather could hear Brambleclaw issuing orders.

“Patrols will carry on as normal. We must hunt. Dustpelt, how many cats do you need to help you clear the debris?”

Jayfeather pricked his ears. The wreckage of the beech muted sound. The mews of his Clanmates no longer rang against the rocky walls of the hollow but soaked into the soft mass of sodden branches and leaves.

“Four or five should be enough for the first shift,” Dustpelt answered his deputy resolutely, but Jayfeather felt the sting in the warrior’s paws, raw from yesterday’s work. “Birchfall and Brackenfur? They could start with the bigger branches. Rosepetal and Hazeltail could help with the smaller ones.”

A path had been cleared to the medicine den. The nursery was safe, enfolded in a tangle of beech roots. The apprentices’ den had survived unscathed.

Briarpaw was stirring. As Jayfeather bent to sniff her muzzle he felt her eyelids flicker on his cheek.

“How are you?” he asked gently.

He could feel panic pricking from Millie and tapped her with his tail-tip. Don’t let her smell your fear .

“Don’t know,” Briarpaw answered groggily.

“Any pain?”

“No. Just sleepy.”

“That’s because of the poppy seed.”

“Is that why I can’t feel my hind legs?”

Jayfeather felt Millie’s gaze burning his pelt. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted it to be true.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps once the trauma of the accident had worn off Briarpaw would be up and about, her hind legs fine. After all, he hadn’t felt any breaks in the bones. There was no reason why they shouldn’t work.

“Well?” Briarpaw pressed.

“I think they’re just recovering from the accident a little more slowly than the rest of you,” he told her. “Let’s wait and see. StarClan willing, they’ll wake up before too long.”

Briarpaw hooked her claws into the bracken of her nest. “I hope it’s soon. I’ve just passed my assessment. I can be a warrior now!”

Millie swallowed hard. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “The more you rest, the quicker you’ll recover.”

Briarpaw rested her chin on her paws and within moments her breath deepened into slumber.

Millie followed Jayfeather out of the den. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded as soon as they were beyond the trailing brambles.

Jayfeather winced as his paw stubbed a branch littering the pathway to his den. The camp had changed shape, distorted by the fallen beech, and he had to pick his way carefully through it, not knowing what might be jutting out, waiting to trip him. He snorted with frustration. The camp had been the one place he could move around without concentrating. Now it was as foreign to him as RiverClan territory.

“What’s wrong with her legs?” Millie pressed as he licked his paw fiercely to ease the pain.

He paused, fixing his gaze on her. He knew that cats listened harder when he looked at them, though it made no difference to him. “I don’t know.”

“You must!” Fear and frustration edged her mew.

Jayfeather was relieved to hear Graystripe’s pawsteps approaching. The gray warrior could comfort his mate.

Graystripe’s fur brushed Millie’s. “No change?” His voice was taut with worry.

“We’re just going to have to wait,” Jayfeather told them. “At least she’s not in pain.”

He began to pad away, his mind whirling. Why couldn’t Briarpaw feel her legs? They were bruised, but not broken. Jayfeather frowned. He’d never come across that before.

“Can we see her?” Graystripe called after him.

“Sitting with her won’t harm her, though she needs her rest,” Jayfeather meowed over his shoulder. “She’s your kit. You’ll know best how to keep her spirits up.”

Jayfeather’s belly growled. The prey pile smelled freshly stocked. He figured that he’d better eat. There hadn’t been time last night. He padded toward it, tasting the familiar scent of Lionblaze, mixed with heavy, wet earth.