Erin Hunter - Long Shadows

For a heartbeat there was no response. Then Lionblaze leaped back as Cloudtail’s face loomed in front of him in the entrance, his white fur startling in the gloom.

“Firestar is dying,” the warrior rasped.

Lionblaze clenched his teeth on a wail of despair. Forgetting to be wary of the sickness, he brushed past Cloudtail and entered the nest.

Firestar was lying in a den on the far side. Most of the sick cats were sitting around him in a ragged circle; Brightheart and Honeyfern were bending over him, holding scraps of soaked moss to his lips. Lionblaze pushed through the line of cats and looked down at his Clan leader. Firestar’s breath was coming in hoarse gasps, his sides heaving with the effort of sucking in air. A stench of something more than sickness hung in the air.

As Lionblaze gazed at him, horrified, Brightheart looked up. “Firestar is losing a life,” she mewed gently.

Taking a step back, Lionblaze stood alongside the other sick cats and watched in silence as their leader struggled to breathe. Gradually the heaving of Firestar’s flanks slowed down; his breathing grew shallower, then stopped. His eyes closed and he lay still.

Lionblaze saw the faintest outline of a f lame-colored cat rise from Firestar’s body and pad away, to be lost in the shadows in one corner of the den.

Is that what it’s like to lose a life? he wondered. How many does Firestar have left? What if that was his last one?

It seemed as if he stood beside his leader’s body for countless moons, or perhaps it was no more than a heartbeat. Then he saw Firestar’s sides give a convulsive heave. Bright green eyes blinked open, struggling to focus.

“Firestar.” Brightheart’s tone was soft as she bent over him again. “You’re back with us.”

Lionblaze felt his mouth drop open. Firestar really had died and come back!

Cloudtail padded up with a fresh bundle of soaked moss, which he gave to his mate. Brightheart held the moss to Firestar’s lips. “Drink this,” she murmured. “And then get some rest.”

“Go and fetch him some fresh-kill,” Cloudtail ordered Lionblaze. “He needs to keep his strength up.”

Lionblaze ran outside again, and came back with one of the freshly killed mice. By the time he returned, Firestar was sitting up, a confused look in his eyes that gradually died away.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Lionblaze dropped the mouse beside him. “But you shouldn’t be in here. You could catch the sickness.”

Lionblaze’s pelt stood on end. Firestar had come back, but he needed to leave the nest right away. If he stayed, how long would it be before the dreadful sickness killed him again?

Firestar took a bite of the mouse, glancing around while he chewed and swallowed it. “It’s okay,” he meowed, meeting the worried gazes of his Clanmates. “Everything’s fine now.”

“No, it’s not,” Brightheart mewed sharply. “You’re still weak, even if you haven’t got greencough anymore. What if you lose another life? You should go back to the camp and let Leafpool look after you.”

Firestar shook his head. “There’s nothing that Leafpool can do for me there that she can’t do while I’m here. I’ll stay with you all.”

A murmur of respect rose from the cats around him.

Rosekit padded forward to the edge of Firestar’s nest. “Are you going to keep dying and coming back again?” she asked curiously.

“I hope not,” Firestar replied, while Honeyfern shooed Rosekit back into the nursery area.

“I knew you’d insist on staying,” Brightheart murmured, touching her nose to Firestar’s ear.

Firestar blinked at her. “I am not the cat with the most to lose,” he replied, his green gaze drifting toward the nest where Millie lay.

Lionblaze turned to look at the gray she-cat. She looked even thinner and more pitiful than when she had left the camp three sunrises before. She was lying sprawled on one side, her sides barely rising and falling with each faint breath.

Briarkit nuzzled into her belly, trying to feed and letting out pitiful mewling noises when she couldn’t find any milk.

Honeyfern bent over her, gently nudging her away with one paw. “Come on,” she comforted the tiny kit. “I’ll find you a mouse to eat. They’re very tasty.”

“Don’t want mouse.” Briarkit’s voice was hoarse. “I want milk.” Her voice rose to a feeble wail. “I want my mother !”

Lionblaze turned away, unable to watch. Around him, the sick cats were stumbling back to their own nests, heads and tails drooping in defeat.

How long before they’re all dead like Firestar? And none of them have nine lives.

Guilt swamped him. He knew that he had the power to help his Clanmates—the power to do anything , he reminded himself—but he had refused to use it.

“I’m going,” he told Cloudtail roughly, desperate to get out of the nest and as far from the sickness as possible. “I’ll tell

Brambleclaw about Firestar losing a life, and I’ll be back soon with more fresh-kill.”

“It’s not fresh-kill we need,” Cloudtail pointed out. “It’s catmint.”

“And the will of StarClan that we survive,” Brightheart added.

Their words echoed in Lionblaze’s ears as he ran back to the hollow, hardly feeling the stone path under his paws. StarClan did want the sick cats to survive. Otherwise they wouldn’t have sent Jaypaw the dream where he found the catmint.

“Even if it wasn’t StarClan who sent him the dream,” Lionblaze argued with himself, “the three of us have been given our powers for a reason. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is the start of the prophecy.”

When he pushed through the tunnel into the camp, he couldn’t see Brambleclaw. Checking the warriors’ den, he found it empty, but as he emerged he spotted the Clan deputy coming out of the tunnel with his jaws full of fresh-kill. Sandstorm and Berrynose followed him; Lionblaze met them by the fresh-kill pile where they dropped their prey.

“There’s news,” he meowed abruptly. “Firestar has lost a life.”

“No!” Sandstorm’s green eyes widened. She spun around as if she was going to dash out of the camp, but Brambleclaw laid his tail gently over her shoulders.

“You can’t help him,” he murmured.

Sandstorm sat down, her head bowed. “I know.” Her voice was so low Lionblaze could scarcely hear it. “But it’s hard.”

“Did you see Firestar die?” Berrynose meowed, his eyes wide. “What was it like?”

Lionblaze glared at him, and didn’t bother to answer. As he padded away, he heard Brambleclaw’s voice raised scathingly.

“I might expect a question like that from a kit, Berrynose, but not from a warrior, especially one that I mentored.”

Forgetting the annoying cream-colored warrior, Lionblaze brushed past the brambles into the medicine cats’ den. To his relief, Leafpool wasn’t there, only Jaypaw, pawing through a pitiful collection of thin, shriveled herbs.

Jaypaw whipped around. “What do you want?”

Lionblaze bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he meowed. “I will go to WindClan.”

As soon as Lionblaze had caught more prey, he headed back toward the old Twoleg nest. Dropping the fresh-kill in the tree trunk, he noticed that the rest of the catch he had brought earlier had disappeared, and some cat had scratched earth over the soggy leavings. Slightly reassured that the sick cats were back to their normal routine, he doubled back and headed deeper into the forest toward the entrance to the tunnel.