was right, he nosed the young warrior’s body in the faint hope of rousing him. Sootfur didn’t move, and his glazed eyes stared at nothing.
“May StarClan light his path,” Brambleclaw murmured. Sootfur’s sister, Sorreltail, had only just given birth; how would she cope with the loss of her brother?
Both the younger cats were staring at Brambleclaw as if they were waiting for him to tell them what to do. With a massive effort he forced himself to think.
“Carry him into the centre of the camp, so we can have a vigil,” he meowed. “I’ll go and look for Rainwhisker.” Sootfur’s brother would have to be told; perhaps he could help their sister, Sorreltail.
Brambleclaw waited until Spiderleg and Whitepaw had lifted Sootfur’s body, then began to search. He couldn’t remember seeing Rainwhisker since the end of the battle. Anxiety sank sharp claws into him; surely Rainwhisker couldn’t be dead too?
Then he spotted the grey warrior half buried under the torn-up thorn branches that had once sheltered the warriors’ den. He lay without moving, but as Brambleclaw dragged a branch off him he managed to lift his head.
“The badgers—have they gone?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s all over,” Brambleclaw replied. “But I’m afraid there’s sad news. Can you get up?”
With a grunt, Rainwhisker brought his paws under him and scrabbled at the prickly twigs until he had hauled himself upright. He balanced precariously on three legs; the fourth hung at an awkward angle, and Brambleclaw was afraid it had been broken. Giving Rainwhisker his shoulder for support, he guided him towards the centre of the camp where Sootfur now lay. Firestar, Squirrelflight, and several other cats stood around him, their heads bowed.
Rainwhisker let out a yowl of dismay at the sight of his brother’s body. Limping forward, he bent his head to thrust his nose into the grey-black fur. He stayed still for a few heartbeats, then looked up, his eyes filled with grief.
“I should tell Sorreltail,” he meowed.
Firestar twitched his tail to stop him. “Your leg needs to be seen to first. Some other cat—”
“No,” Rainwhisker interrupted stubbornly. “Let me do it. Sootfur was our brother. She will want to hear this from me.”
The Clan leader hesitated, then nodded. “OK, but go to see Cinderpelt as soon as you can.”
“Firestar, you mean Leafpool,” Sandstorm gently corrected him.
Firestar blinked, stupefied by shock and exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe Cinderpelt’s dead.”
Brambleclaw gazed at him sympathetically. The Thunder Clan leader had been very close to Cinderpelt. He was sure to be badly shaken by her death.
He’s going to need my help. Brambleclaw braced himself. Touching Squirrelflight on her shoulder with his tail, he murmured, “Let’s go and bring Cinderpelt’s body into the clearing.”
“Right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Rainwhisker, come with us if you want to speak to Sorreltail.”
The three cats made their way to the nursery. The bramble thicket, growing close to the wall of the hollow, was the least damaged part of the camp. Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Brackenfur had stayed there throughout the battle, defending the entrance while Sorreltail’s kits were born. Only part of it had been trampled down where the badger that killed Cinderpelt had swatted Brackenfur aside to break in.
Daisy and her kits were standing outside the entrance. Cloudtail and Ferncloud were with them, and Birchpaw, who lay splayed out on the ground beside his mother. For a dreadful instant Brambleclaw thought that the apprentice had died of his wounds, until he saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Ferncloud crouched over him, gently licking his shoulder.
Leafpool and Brightheart approached at the same time. Leafpool was carrying a wrap of herbs in her jaws, which she set down as Brambleclaw came up.
“Thank StarClan, Cinderpelt’s den was too small for the badgers to get in,” she meowed. “All her herbs and berries are still intact.” Her voice shook as she added, “Please can we move her body, so the Clan can sit in vigil for her?”
“We’ve come to do that,” Brambleclaw told her.
Leafpool blinked gratefully. “Thank you. Brightheart,” she went on, “please fetch some marigold for Birchpaw. Then tell all the cats who are able to walk to go to my den. It’ll be easier to treat them there. And let me know if there’s any cat who can’t manage it. I’ll need to see them first.”
Brightheart gave a brisk nod and left.
Leafpool led the way into the nursery, followed closely by Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and Rainwhisker. Hardly any moonlight penetrated through the brambles, making it shadowy as a cave inside, and Brambleclaw winced as he stepped on a thorny tendril. He could just make out Cinderpelt lying on her side in a nest of soft moss. Her tail was curled over her nose, and she looked as if she were asleep.
Brambleclaw padded up to her. “Cinderpelt?” For a heartbeat he thought she might raise her head and answer him, but when he touched his nose to her fur it felt deathly cold.
Sorreltail was lying on the other side of the dead medicine cat, in the furthest corner of the nursery. Her body was curled away from Cinderpelt’s body, sheltering her kits. Her mate, Brackenfur, crouched beside her, his fur bristling; as the other cats entered he bared his teeth in a snarl.
“It’s all right, Brackenfur,” Brambleclaw meowed. “It’s only us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Brackenfur relaxed, though he still looked wary, and shifted even closer to Sorreltail. Leafpool squeezed past Brambleclaw and began nosing carefully over the young tortoiseshell. Brambleclaw blinked, waiting for his eyes to get used to the gloom until he could see Sorreltail’s four kits burrowing blindly into her fur. Sorreltail was gazing up at Leafpool, her eyes blank with shock.
Rainwhisker edged up beside Brambleclaw. “What can I say to her?” he whispered. “She’s suffered enough already. Knowing about Sootfur could kill her.”
“Not when she has Brackenfur and Leafpool to look after her,” Brambleclaw reassured him. “Come on—it’s better for her to hear it from you than some other cat.”
Rainwhisker nodded, though he still looked uncertain. “Sorreltail . . .” he began, gently nuzzling his sister’s shoulder.
“Rainwhisker, is that you?” Sorreltail mewed, twisting her head around to look at him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll be OK,” Rainwhisker replied. “But I’ve got some bad news. It’s Sootfur. He’s . . . dead.”
Sorreltail stared at him for a couple of heartbeats as if she hadn’t understood. Then she tipped back her head and let out a high-pitched wail. “No! Oh, no!”
Her body twisted in a spasm of grief; Brambleclaw heard a faint mewling of protest from the kits as they were dislodged from her belly.
“Sorreltail, it’s all right!” Brackenfur mewed. He pressed himself to her side, covering her face and ears with licks until she shuddered
