Erin Hunter - Dovewing’s Silence

“I’m looking for catmint,” the she-cat hissed through gritted teeth. “Satisfied? I know Jayfeather and Leafpool grew some here, and I wanted to see if there was any left. Our Clanmates are getting sick, and we have to find a way to make them better before we have to dig any more burial holes!” Her voice rose in despair and Dovewing felt a surge of sympathy, and guilt for doubting her.

“I’ll help you,” she mewed, her voice cracking with emotion. She pressed against Blossomfall’s flank in silent apology, then began picking over the loose, damp earth. To her relief, she uncovered a few tiny green stalks still bearing leaves. “Do you think these will help?” she asked Blossomfall.

The warrior nodded. “Bite them off carefully,” she instructed. “Leave the roots so they can keep growing.”

With a small harvest of stems, they headed back to the camp. “I’m sorry,” Dovewing meowed around her mouthful. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

Blossomfall stopped and put down her little burden. “I’d probably have done the same,” she admitted. “Joining the Dark Forest was the biggest mistake I could have made. I… I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Dovewing leaned over and pressed her muzzle against Blossomfall’s shoulder. “You have to,” she murmured. “For all our sakes. We have to move on from what happened, and find new ways to be strong.” Her words fell like stones into the cold air. Does that include me learning to live without my senses? she wondered. Just like Blossomfall, I feel as if I can’t forgive myself if I am losing them. How will I serve my Clan now?

Dovewing paused to catch her breath before dragging her prey—a female blackbird, her brown feathers stained with blood after a rather messy catch—through the barrier of thorns. A quarter moon had passed since she and Blossomfall searched for catmint, and more cats had fallen ill. Two sunrises ago, Littlecloud had visited the camp to ask if Jayfeather and Leafpool could spare any catmint for sick ShadowClan cats, so it was clear the sickness had spread beyond ThunderClan’s territory. Graystripe appeared behind Dovewing carrying a vole.

“Are you okay, Dovewing?” he asked, laying the vole at his feet.

“Fine,” Dovewing meowed. She picked up the blackbird and started to push through the gap in the thorns. She emerged to see Rosepetal placing her catch, a young rabbit, on the fresh-kill pile. Bramblestar padded over to watch the hunting patrol return.

“Well done,” he purred. “I know it’s hard to keep the fresh-kill pile stocked when there are fewer warriors able to hunt, but we have to do everything we can to feed the Clan. If we’re hungry, we’re more likely to get sick.”

Dovewing looked anxiously at the leader’s bony haunches and the hollows above his eyes. She doubted that Bramblestar was taking his fair share from the pile, letting his Clanmates eat the best of the fresh-kill instead. Brightheart was the last to emerge from the thorns, stumbling over a thrush that hung from her jaws. She had left her kits in Daisy’s care in order to help with hunting patrols, even though she was exhausted and thin from feeding Sorreltail’s kits as well as her own.

She was followed closely by Leafpool, Berrynose, and Poppyfrost, who each carried a bundle of tightly wrapped leaves. Jayfeather came to meet them in the center of the clearing, and Briarlight dragged herself over to help unroll the parcels.

“Did you find any catmint?” Jayfeather asked, his voice taut with worry.

Berrynose shook his head. “We tried all the places you suggested,” he meowed. “There was nothing but dead stalks. Sorry.”

Jayfeather twitched his ears. “It’s not your fault.”

“Leafpool said this might help, though,” mewed Poppyfrost, nudging her bundle toward Jayfeather so he could sniff it.

“It’s fennel,” Leafpool explained. “I know we usually use it to treat vomiting, but I’ve seen it help cats who are having trouble breathing.”

Jayfeather nodded. “Good idea. Hawkweed could be helpful too, though I don’t know if any grows in our territory.”

“I’ll take a look tomorrow,” Leafpool promised. “I can think of one or two places it might be.”

Dovewing felt a rush of pride in her Clan’s medicine cats. Was there any plant whose use they didn’t know? With their skill, surely ThunderClan would win this battle, too?

Suddenly there was a burst of squeaking from outside the nursery. “Help! Help!” piped Amberkit. “The Dark Forest is coming to get me!”

Dovewing spun around, her fur bristling. She relaxed when she saw Molepaw creeping up on the tiny kit, his front paws extended with claws safely sheathed. Dewkit and Snowkit raced up to join their littermate. “Stay back, traitor!” hissed Snowkit, fluffing up his white pelt. “You say you’re a ThunderClan cat now, but we know the truth! You just want to kill us!”

Molepaw arched his back. “Aha! It seems you do not trust me, even though I swore an oath! Well, you’re right! I am your most dangerous enemy!” He pounced toward the kits, his tail lashing.

Dovewing bounded over and stood in front of the brown-and-cream apprentice. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Molepaw blinked up at her. “Playing,” he answered innocently.

Dovewing hissed. “You know full well that this is more than a game. Why are you making these kits frightened of the Dark Forest? That battle has been won.”

The apprentice’s gaze slid sideways to rest on Thornclaw and Birchfall, who were sharing tongues by the tree stump. “Not entirely,” he muttered.

“Hey!” Amberkit wailed. “Why did you stop our game, Dovewing? We were having fun!”

Daisy bustled out of the nursery. “What’s going on? Dovewing, is there a problem? I wanted these kits to stretch their legs and get some fresh air.”

Dovewing flicked the tip of her tail. “I don’t think Molepaw has chosen the best game,” she mewed.

The cream-furred queen narrowed her eyes. “All kits play at fighting,” she mewed. “No one ever gets hurt. Leave them be, Dovewing. I’m sure you have more than enough to do.” She whisked back into the nursery.

Molepaw glared at Dovewing. “You heard her. Stop sticking your muzzle where it’s not wanted.”

“You know what you’re doing, Molepaw,” Dovewing growled. “Perhaps you should think about whether it’s helping the Clan.” She turned away, still bristling. Behind her, she heard the kits leaping on Molepaw, squealing in triumph.

“We killed the traitor!” Dewkit declared. “ThunderClan is safe!”

Dovewing felt her heart sink. ThunderClan will never be safe if we are divided inside the walls of our own camp.

The following dawn, Squirrelflight told the cats to organize themselves into hunting patrols while she led a border check. Her voice was quiet and husky, and Dovewing hoped she wasn’t getting sick as well. When the deputy and her patrol, which included Bramblestar, had vanished into the thorns, the remaining warriors looked at each other.

“I’ll lead one patrol,” Poppyfrost offered.

Lionblaze and Cinderheart padded across the clearing to join her.

“I’ll come too,” mewed Birchfall.

“Actually, I was going to ask Millie,” Poppyfrost meowed. “Thanks anyway. Millie, will you join us?”

Looking faintly surprised, the gray tabby she-cat walked over to the group. Dovewing tensed when she saw the hurt in her father’s eyes. How obvious could Poppyfrost be? “I’d like to hunt with you, Birchfall,” she called. “Thornclaw, Ivypool, Mousewhisker, Blossomfall, will you come with us?” I will not let my Clanmates shun these cats for the mistake they made!