Book One of the How the Mighty Fall Trilogy
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Stonetail is a headstrong young warrior and the daughter of Greystar, a formidable she-cat known for her strict adherence to the code. All her life, she has practiced honor, valor, and fait...
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She wakes with cool water lapping at her side. It tugs rhythmically at her fur, a gentle back and forth motion that soothes the throbbing pain hovering around her left shoulder. Maybe it never quite healed from being twisted, she thinks. But then she remembers the fire lashing against her side, bright as the sun as it seared her skin, and she knows the ache in her shoulder is not from her old injury.
Stonetail lets the water pass over her without opening her eyes. She listens without moving an inch, as if keeping still will wash away the aches and pains and tragedies. Against the bank, she hears the water splash lightly, and a soft grinding noise speaks of the streambed's pebbles shifting aside, making way for the body that trudges through the water.
"Do we move her yet?" asks Clay. Stonetail has never heard him so somber, and wonders if she is dead, if her body is being washed for burial in a stream. But her shoulder prickles, then throbs violently, so she must be alive.
"I think we can," Streamheart replies, her body humming with the words, vibrating against Stonetail's ear. Stonetail makes no sound as Clay slides beneath her rear legs, shouldering her weight with ease and lifting her free of the water. Streamheart leaves her crouch to follow Clay up the bank, and rivulets of water come pouring off Stonetail's side. Free of the cold stream, her injuries begin to sting outright.
Finally, she speaks. "Careful. Please."
Streamheart gasps, though softly enough that Stonetail only knows thanks to her ear pressed against the silver tabby's side. "We're trying," she promises, slowly lowering herself. Stonetail feels her tail brush against damp grass. "Robinfoot told us to hold you in the water for a little while because of your burn. How do you feel?"
She feels weak. Hazy. Smoked out and trampled upon. "Fine," she lies anyway, trying to stand the moment Clay and Streamheart move themselves out from beneath her. Still adjusting and aching, though, she doesn't get far, and lies down in the grass. Even Streamheart's probing paws, slick with some kind of paste, suddenly feel distant. In fact, nothing feels close except the slow, labored thump of her heart, again and again.
"You can't scratch at this," Streamheart says, her voice muffled. "Robinfoot says the poultice will only help if you leave it alone. We're going to cover it in cobwebs to be safe. All right?"
A raindrop splashes against Stonetail's nose, jolting her into focus. "Right," she manages. Slowly she opens her eyes, twisting to find Streamheart rubbing a yellowy paste into her side. The stinging has already begun to subside, and she sighs in relief. Already it feels better, though she wishes she could stand. Shouldn't they be going?
"I couldn't kill him," she says suddenly. His face looms before her mind's eye, and her heart lurches. "He's still out there. We have to go. He wants me dead." But every effort to rise is thwarted by her friends carefully pushing her back into the grass. Streamheart accidentally leaves a streak of sour yellow paste against Stonetail's neck.
