Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

“No.” How in the name of StarClan was she going to explain that she knew something these cats didn’t?

“I—I had a dream.”

Brambleclaw flattened his ears. Graystripe put his head to one side.

“Go on,” Firestar prompted gently.

Ivypaw blurted out the first words that came to her. “I dreamed that I was standing at the edge of ThunderClan territory…on that strip of grass beside the place where Twolegs come in greenleaf.” She tried to read the warriors’ expressions. Were they taking her seriously? “The place that used to belong to ThunderClan. The place you gave to ShadowClan.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that? It was before you were born.”

“Probably heard it from Mousefur,” Brambleclaw muttered.

Ivypaw shook her head. “It was all in the dream. How you gave it to ShadowClan because it was useless hunting, not worth defending.”

“Go on.” Firestar was leaning forward now, his ears pricked.

“I saw the stream and it was running with blood.” Ivypaw felt her words coming quickly. Now that she’d started, this was easier than she’d thought. “ ThunderClan blood. And ShadowClan cats were patrolling the edge, purring, and they were saying that soon the whole forest would run with ThunderClan blood and they’d own it all, because ThunderClan was no more dangerous than a swarm of beetles, and beetles could be crushed.”

As Ivypaw took a steadying breath, she realized that the three warriors were staring at her, captivated. Encouraged, she went on. “So I ran back to the hollow, but ShadowClan cats were everywhere: all through the forest, hiding behind bushes, hunting for squirrels, training for battle, all the way up to the Twoleg nest. They were gathering Jayfeather’s herbs and saying ShadowClan would never be sick again.” She ran out of words. Had they believed her?

Graystripe’s eyes were half closed. “There may be some truth in it.” He glanced at Firestar. “You used to have dreams that came true when you were an apprentice.”

Brambleclaw flexed his claws. “Young cats also have vivid imaginations.”

“But her sister warned us about the beavers,” Graystripe reminded him. “That wasn’t imagination.”

“Is it worth risking trouble with ShadowClan?” Brambleclaw questioned. “We have no real evidence. I’ve already told you that ShadowClan cats have stopped crossing the border.”

Graystripe shifted his paws. “That may be part of their strategy,” he suggested. “To lull us into a false sense of security.”

Ivypaw didn’t take her gaze from Firestar. The ThunderClan leader wrapped his tail over his paws. “Who else knows about this dream?”

“No one,” Ivypaw assured him. “I came straight to you.”

“Were there any other cats in it besides you and ShadowClan warriors?” His leaf green stare was unwavering. “Any cats from StarClan?”

“She’s too young to know any,” Graystripe pointed out.

“Longtail?” Firestar wondered.

Ivypaw shook her head. “Just ShadowClan warriors.”

“Did you recognize any of them?” Firestar pressed.

“Crowfrost…er…Scorchfur.” Ivypaw’s heart pounded as she tried to remember cats she’d seen at the Gatherings. It couldn’t be wrong to lie, not when she was doing it to save her Clan. Anything to make them believe her.

“Okay.” Firestar turned to Graystripe and Brambleclaw. “What do you think?”

Excitement itched beneath Ivypaw’s pelt.

“It would explain why they were crossing the border,” Graystripe growled. “They might have been looking for the best places to fight.”

“And it’s interesting that she saw the Twolegplace.” Brambleclaw glanced at Ivypaw. “Surrendering it did make us seem vulnerable.”

“It was a good decision,” Graystripe defended his leader hotly. “It saved bloodshed. And we were never going to hunt in such an open space. Especially not if it’s crawling with Twolegs when prey is richest.”

“But giving it up may have sent the wrong message,” Firestar conceded. “Maybe I shouldn’t have handed it over so easily. That act of kindness seems to have left echoes of weakness.”

They believe me! Ivypaw couldn’t stay quiet. “If we take back the Twolegplace, then they’ll know we can’t be beaten!”

Firestar stood up. “Thank you, Ivypaw,” he meowed. “We’ll need to discuss this with the other warriors, and until we do I want you to keep it to yourself.” He brushed past her. “Don’t even tell Dovepaw.”

Ivypaw nodded earnestly while the warriors filed past her out of the cave.

Firestar glanced over his shoulder. “Tell me if you have any more dreams,” he ordered.

“I will.” Ivypaw’s heart was pounding. She’d done it! They were thinking about attacking ShadowClan! She couldn’t wait to tell Tigerstar the good news.

Briarlight was coughing.

The roughness in her mew that had begun last night had developed into a heaviness in her chest that Jayfeather could hear growing thicker every time he lowered his head to listen.

“Here,” he mewed, pushing another pawful of herbs toward her. “Swallow these.”

“No more,” she complained. “I couldn’t swallow a thing.”

“I’ve flavored them with mouse,” Jayfeather coaxed.

Briarlight let out a low moan, as if the thought of food made her feel worse. Jayfeather pushed away Littlecloud’s dark memory of Wildfur’s slow decline after his accident. He wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to Briarlight.

Millie pushed her way through the brambles. “I’ve come to help Briarlight with her exercises…” Her mew trailed away as she recognized sickness in her kit. “What’s wrong with her?” Her voice was tense.

“Just a slight fever.” Jayfeather deliberately kept his tone light. “A bit of exercise might help her fight it off.”

“Shouldn’t she rest?” Millie questioned.

Briarlight clawed at her nest. “I’ve been resting all night!” she mewed. A cough gripped her but she swallowed against it.

Jayfeather heard Millie’s paws hesitate for a moment before padding briskly across the den. “Come on, then.”

Briarlight’s breath rasped as she began to go through her strengthening exercises with her mother. Suddenly she stopped, and Jayfeather heard her flop down in her nest. “This is too much work!”

Jayfeather tensed. Briarlight had never given up before. “Come on,” he urged. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“It’s all too much work,” Briarlight wailed. “Exercises morning and night. Dragging myself to the fresh-kill pile as if it were a mountain away. I can’t even breathe or lie comfortably, let alone hunt or play with my littermates!”

Fear was flashing from Millie’s pelt. “But think how much you have to be grateful for,” she meowed as brightly as she could. “You can still share tongues with your littermates and enjoy a tasty mouse. And the whole Clan admires you.” Jayfeather could sense the she-cat desperately searching for more reasons for Briarlight to be happy and grateful.

He padded forward and touched Millie’s shoulder with his muzzle. “Why don’t you see if you can catch her something really tasty?” he suggested. “I’ll mix up some fresh herbs.” He turned to Briarlight. “You’ve been working hard. A day’s rest will do you good.”

As Millie left the den, Jayfeather began to rub Briarlight’s chest, hoping to stimulate her breathing.

“Your mother would gladly suffer your injuries for you,” he murmured.