Эрин Хантер: Hollyleaf’s Story

“What?” Brambleclaw shot to his paws from where he sat with the other deputies among the roots of the Great Oak. “Squirrelflight, why is she talking such nonsense?”

“I’m sorry, Brambleclaw, but it’s true. I’m not their mother, and you are not their father.”

The Clan deputy stared at her. “Then who is?”

Squirrelflight turned her sad green gaze on the cat she had always claimed as her daughter. “Tell them, Hollyleaf. I kept the secret for seasons; I’m not going to reveal it now.”

“Coward!” Hollyleaf flashed at her. Her gaze swept around the clearing, seeing the eyes of every single cat trained on her. “I’m not afraid of the truth! Leafpool is our mother, and Crowfeather—yes, Crowfeather of WindClan—is our father.”

Yowls of shock greeted her words, but Hollyleaf shouted over them. “These cats were so ashamed of us that they gave us away and lied to every single one of you to hide the fact that they had broken the warrior code. It’s all her fault.” She whipped her tail around to point at Leafpool. “How can the Clans survive when there are cowards and liars at the very heart of them?”

Her words seemed to echo from the walls of the tunnel. Hollyleaf wished she could go back to the start of the Gathering, take back the terrible truth she had spilled, spare her Clanmates the pain and shock she had seen in their faces. What have I done?

The constant dark was making her eyes ache. She had been searching for a chink of light for so long that she imagined one had appeared up ahead. The faintest line of something paler than black, like the first hint of milky dawn above the trees. Hollyleaf blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her vision. But the gray stripe was still there. Maybe it was light? She limped faster, ignoring the burn in her hind leg. The light grew stronger. It was seeping from a gap in the wall: another, smaller tunnel leading off. Hollyleaf dragged herself around the corner. Was it her imagination, or could she see the walls of a cave opening out ahead? In her excitement, she tried to stand up. Her hind leg buckled beneath her and stars exploded in her head. The last thing she saw was the stone floor rushing up to meet her.

Leafpool! Leafpool, I’m thirsty! Hollyleaf was burning up. Her throat felt parched and her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She must be in the medicine den with a fever. Where was the soaked moss that Leafpool always left close to her patients? She twisted her head, and her muzzle bumped into something soft and wet and green-smelling. Hollyleaf sucked at the tendrils of moss, trying not to wince as she swallowed the precious water. Nothing had ever tasted better.

Suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone. There was a cat bending over her, pushing something beneath her injured leg. Hollyleaf hissed in pain, and the cat apologized softly. “It’s just some feathers, to make you more comfortable. Lie still now.”

Hollyleaf stiffened. She didn’t recognize this cat’s voice or scent. “Who are you? Where am I?” She started to flail her front paws. “Let me go!”

A small, cool foot was placed on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. Strong-smelling leaves were moved close to her muzzle. “Hush, it’s all right. You’re safe. Eat these, then go back to sleep.”

Hollyleaf allowed herself to be nudged back onto the floor. She swallowed the herbs—comfrey, from the scent of it—and two tiny poppy seeds. The feathers felt soft and warm against her wounded leg. With a small sigh, Hollyleaf closed her eyes and sleep dragged her away once more.

When she woke next, her head felt clearer and the pain in her leg had dulled to a nagging ache. Hollyleaf lay still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the near-darkness. This definitely wasn’t the ThunderClan medicine den. She was lying on a thin bed of feathers over cold stone. I’m still in the tunnels! Hollyleaf felt a jolt of relief, then alarm. Who was down here with her? Hollyleaf tried to recall the scent of the cat who had told her to go back to sleep, but her belly rumbled and suddenly all she could think about was how hungry she was. When had she last eaten? She tried to stand up but her hind leg crumpled and she flopped onto her side, frustrated.

“You’re awake!” A face loomed from the shadows. “How is your leg?”

Hollyleaf opened her eyes wide until she could make out ginger-and-white patches on the cat’s pelt. He smelled of stone and water and moss. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

The cat ignored her. Instead, he pushed something toward her with one paw. “You must be starving. Here, eat.”

Fresh-kill! Hollyleaf bent her head, ready to dive in, then pulled back. A small, slimy minnow lay in front of her. “I don’t like fish,” she mewed.

The cat twitched his ears. “Down here, you don’t always have a choice.” His tone was mild, but Hollyleaf felt embarrassed. Her belly let out a loud growl as if it would be happy with anything, even crow-food. Holding her breath, Hollyleaf bit into the fish. Plump, tasty mouse, she told herself. Pine-scented squirrel. The first pigeon of newleaf .

She swallowed the last mouthful and drank from the moss beside her. The ginger-and-white cat watched her expectantly. “Thank you,” Hollyleaf meowed. “I… I guess it didn’t taste too bad.”

The tom was still studying her. “You’re Hollypaw, aren’t you?”

She blinked. “Hollyleaf, actually. How did you know? I’ve never seen you before, have I?”

The cat shook his head and his eyes clouded. “No, you’ve never seen me. But I saw you with your littermates when you came to rescue those kits, just before the river flooded.”

Hollyleaf stared at him. She would never forget the desperate search for the lost WindClan kits with Jayfeather and Lionblaze. They had been washed out of the tunnels and into the lake when the underground river overflowed. It had been a lucky escape for all of them. Now this cat was telling her that he had been here! “Who are you?” she mewed.

The ginger-and-white tom busied himself with the feathers underneath her injured leg, rearranging them so that they were spread evenly. “My name is Fallen Leaves,” he meowed quietly.

“You’re not from the Clans, are you?” Hollyleaf pressed. “Where do you live?”

Fallen Leaves padded over to a small bundle of herbs and started dividing them up. “Once I lived in the hills above the lake, but this is my home now.” He turned, pushing some herbs toward Hollyleaf. “Eat this comfrey; it’ll help your leg. I won’t give you any more poppy seeds unless you have trouble sleeping.”

Hollyleaf obediently chewed the fragrant leaves. “Were you a medicine cat?” she asked.

Fallen Leaves tipped his head to one side. “I don’t know what that is. We all learned about herbs and injuries so we could help one another. Is that what you mean?”

“Kind of.” Hollyleaf propped herself up on her front legs, feeling her heart beat faster. “Who were the other cats? Were you part of a Clan?” Was there another group of cats living near here, one that the Clans didn’t know about?

“No more questions,” Fallen Leaves ordered. “You need to rest. You haven’t broken your leg, just wrenched it. You’ll mend soon enough, and then I suppose you’ll want to go back to your friends.”

“No!” Hollyleaf yelped. “I can’t go back! Not ever!”

Fallen Leaves just shrugged. “That’s up to you. Lie down and stop wriggling. I’ll bring you something to eat later.” He picked up the scraps of fish bones and walked away.