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though he hadn’t heard the ThunderClan leader. “We should go home.” “Oatclaw and Emberfoot are in no state to travel that far right now,” Jayfeather put in. Onestar narrowed his eyes, glancing at the injured warriors. Oatclaw was leaning against Birchfall, blood welling on his flank. Emberfoot was staring at their fallen Clanmate, his eyes shimmering with grief. “What about Furzepelt’s body?” Alderpaw was surprised to see coldness in the WindClan leader’s gaze. Had losing a life robbed him of feelings? Perhaps he was numb with shock. Bramblestar nodded to Cloudtail. “You and Rosepetal, sit with her. Make sure nothing disturbs her body until a patrol can fetch her.” He turned to Onestar, softening his mew. “Come home with us. We can take care of you.” “We can take care of ourselves,” Onestar snapped. Jayfeather snorted. “If Oatclaw doesn’t bleed to death first.” The WindClan leader looked to where the moor rose toward a darkening sky. A storm was moving in. He nodded briefly. “Very well.” “Chew up more horsetail and marigold,” Jayfeather ordered. Alderpaw was helping treat the injured WindClan cats in the shelter of the medicine den while the rain thrummed outside. He’d already made enough pulp to put on Oatclaw’s and Emberfoot’s wounds, and his Clanmates’ scratches, and his tongue was numb from the herbs. He wished Leafpool were
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