Sunset

by Erin Hunter

  She raised her head and began to speak more clearly, though Brambleclaw could still see unwillingness in every hair on her pelt.

  “I dreamed I was fishing in the stream,” she meowed, “and I saw two pebbles that didn’t belong there. They were a different colour and shape from all the rest. They made the stream ripple and splash so it couldn’t flow properly. Then the stream began flowing faster and faster, and—and the current carried the two pebbles away until I couldn’t see them any more. The stream looked just the same as always . . .” Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her paws.

  All around her cats looked puzzled, turning to one another and whispering questions. Brambleclaw couldn’t understand why Leafpool looked so upset. He didn’t see what was so terrible about the medicine cat’s dream. It certainly didn’t seem to apply to all four Clans.

  “Well?” Leopardstar demanded, when Mothwing’s silence had dragged on for several heartbeats. “What does the dream mean? What are StarClan trying to tell us?”

  Before Mothwing could reply, Hawkfrost took a pace forward. “The meaning seems clear to me,” he meowed. “Obviously there are two things in RiverClan that don’t belong. Two things that don’t fit in with the other cats. Like the stones, they need to be swept away so the stream can flow as it’s meant to.”

  Urgent whispering broke out again, especially among the cats from RiverClan. All of them looked worried. The young warrior Voletooth spoke louder than the rest. “Does it mean Stormfur and Brook? Are they the two pebbles we have to get rid of?”

  Brambleclaw gulped. Did StarClan really believe Stormfur and Brook didn’t belong in RiverClan?

  Beside him, Tawnypelt dug her claws hard into the ground. She had made the journey to the sun-drown-place with the other cats; Stormfur was her friend, too. “If any cat lays a paw on him, I’ll—”

  “Keep out of this,” Hawkfrost snapped at her. “It’s RiverClan business. It sounds to me as if StarClan would be angry if we allowed Stormfur and Brook to stay.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Mistyfoot sprang up from her place on the oak root. “Stormfur is a RiverClan cat!”

  “Stop!” Mothwing begged. “Hawkfrost, I told you I don’t know—not exactly—what my dream meant. Please . . .” Her voice quavered. “Please don’t read a meaning into it that might not be there. I’ll wait for another sign from StarClan . . . next time it might be clearer.”

  Hawkfrost glared at her through narrowed blue eyes that gleamed like chips of ice. Above them on her branch, Leopardstar looked embarrassed and furious at the same time. Brambleclaw would bet a moon of dawn patrols that she would have stern words for Mothwing about showing such uncertainty in front of the whole Gathering.

  “Yes,” Leopardstar meowed tersely, “we won’t do anything until you know more. And next time, Mothwing, make sure you come to me first.”

  Mothwing bowed her head and sat down again. Leopard -star said nothing more, just beckoned Onestar forward with her tail.

  The WindClan leader rose from where he was sitting in the fork of a branch. “WindClan has little to report,” he meowed. “Everything is peaceful, and we have plenty of prey.” He sat down again, motioning to Firestar to speak next.

  Brambleclaw felt a knot of tension in his belly as his Clan leader stepped forward. What would Firestar say about ShadowClan’s attempt to steal part of their territory? And how could Blackstar justify his warriors’ actions?

  Firestar began by telling the story of the badgers’ invasion, thanking Onestar for bringing the WindClan warriors to help. “Without you, many more cats would have died,” he meowed.

  Onestar waved his tail. “It was no more than we owed you.”

  “It grieves me to report the death of Sootfur,” Firestar went on, “and the death of our medicine cat, Cinderpelt. Their Clan honours them.”

  Most cats seemed to know already that Cinderpelt was dead; murmurs of grief rippled through the clearing like wind through grass. She would be greatly missed, for every cat respected and admired her.

  “Leafpool is now ThunderClan’s medicine cat,” Firestar continued. “She has done an excellent job in caring for our injured warriors, and they are all recovering. We have rebuilt our dens and the entrance barrier to our camp. The badgers have not weakened ThunderClan in any way.”

  He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, then turned to where Blackstar was sitting among the thickly clustering oak leaves. His voice hardened. “Not long after the badgers attacked us, my warriors found a ShadowClan patrol setting scent markers well inside our territory. Have you anything to say about that, Blackstar?”

  Brambleclaw couldn’t help glancing at his sister.

  “Don’t blame me,” she hissed under her breath. “I told Russetfur she was a stupid furball even to think of invading ThunderClan, but would she listen?”

  Brambleclaw rested the tip of his tail lightly on her shoulder. “It’s OK,” he murmured. “Every cat knows you’re an honourable warrior.”

  Blackstar rose, his huge black paws balancing confidently on the narrow branch. Firestar’s accusation didn’t seem to bother him. “Since the weather has grown warmer,” he began, “Twolegs have brought their boats and water-monsters onto the lake at the edge of our territory. Their kits play in our woods and frighten the prey. Their monsters use the small Thunderpath and leave their reek in the air.”

  “That’s true,” Leopardstar put in. “They’re in RiverClan territory too, leaving their rubbish everywhere. I’ve even spotted them here, on this island.”

  “They lit a fire,” Mistyfoot added.

  Brambleclaw’s fur stood on end, making him shiver. He could just remember the terrible fire that had swept through the old ThunderClan camp when he was a kit. It wasn’t hard to imagine hungry scarlet flames devouring the whole of the island, turning the Great Oak to a heap of brittle, charred sticks. What if the Twolegs built fires on the lakeshore, too? ThunderClan had been safe so far, for no Twolegs had been seen on their side of the lake, but how long would that go on?

  “What’s that got to do with stealing our territory?” Squirrelflight called out.

  “When we set the boundaries of our territories, back in leaf-bare,” Blackstar went on, “no cat knew what effect Twolegs would have on us. We never expected to see so many of them. ShadowClan is finding it harder to catch enough prey—”

  “And so is RiverClan,” Leopardstar mewed.

  Blackstar dipped his head to her. “So it seems to me the only solution is to rearrange the boundaries. ThunderClan and WindClan should give up some of their territory to ShadowClan and RiverClan.”

  As ThunderClan and WindClan broke out into yowls of protest, Onestar leaped to his paws, his neck fur bristling. “Never!”

  Firestar waved his tail for silence, but it was some time before the clamour in the clearing died down. Brambleclaw spotted Cloudtail on his paws, hissing defiance at Blackstar, while Dustpelt lashed his tail and Squirrelflight let out an outraged caterwaul. Crowfeather of WindClan stood with his neck fur bristling, his claws digging into the ground; beside him, Webfoot was yowling furiously at Blackstar. Brambleclaw felt hot fury run through his body from ears to tail-tip, but he forced himself to keep silent and wait to hear how his Clan leader would reply.

  “We can’t agree to that, Blackstar,” Firestar meowed as soon as he could make himself heard. “As the boundaries stand now, each Clan has the sort of territory they’re used to. You can’t expect RiverClan cats to hunt on bare hillside like WindClan.”

  “We can learn,” Hawkfrost insisted. “So much has changed since we came here, surely we can manage new hunting techniques?”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Crowfeather shot back at him. “It’s not as easy as it looks. I know WindClan would find it difficult to hunt in thick woodland like ThunderClan.”

  “Well, you would know about that,” Webfoot sneered.

  “That’s enough,” Onestar hissed, glaring down at Web -foot.

  Webfoot
shot Crowfeather a resentful look, as though it were the dark warrior’s fault that he had received a public rebuke from his leader. Brambleclaw realised that some of Crowfeather’s Clanmates hadn’t forgiven him for being ready to abandon his Clan for the sake of the ThunderClan medicine cat.

  “No cat wants trouble among the Clans,” Hawkfrost meowed, gazing up at the four leaders. “But ThunderClan and WindClan must be reasonable. What if it was your territory that was being invaded by Twolegs?”

  While he spoke, Tawnypelt leaned close to Brambleclaw with a small snort of contempt. “I met Hawkfrost on the border once when I was patrolling with Blackstar and Oakfur,” she told her brother. “He was so concerned about the Twolegs, saying what a pity it was that the boundaries couldn’t be changed. I shouldn’t wonder if that was what put the idea into Blackstar’s head in the first place.”

  Brambleclaw stared at her. Surely that couldn’t be true? Hawkfrost would never encourage ShadowClan to attack ThunderClan. What he said could only have been a warrior’s natural anxiety that his Clan would have enough prey. And Blackstar certainly didn’t need any encouragement to attack another Clan.

  “Hawkfrost isn’t like that,” he protested, only to meet a glint of disbelief in Tawnypelt’s green eyes.

  “Really? And I suppose you’re going to tell me that birds don’t nest in trees,” she responded dryly.

  Disturbed, Brambleclaw turned away. He had missed Firestar’s response, and now Hawkfrost was speaking again, looking up challengingly at the ThunderClan leader.

  “Firestar, are you sure you’re not being too stubborn about the Clan boundaries? I’ve often heard you say that StarClan decreed there should be four Clans in the forest. How can that be, if two of them starve?”

  He glanced across at Brambleclaw as if he expected his half-brother to support him. Brambleclaw met his gaze, then looked away. Hawkfrost’s argument sounded persuasive, but Brambleclaw couldn’t believe that ShadowClan and River -Clan were in danger of starving, not in greenleaf when prey was plentiful. At most, they should wait a season or two before they discussed changing the boundaries, to discover exactly what changes the Twoleg invasion made to the territory around the lake.

  “You don’t look like you’re starving to me, Hawkfrost,” Firestar meowed.

  “RiverClan needs more territory!” Hawkfrost hissed. “If you don’t give it to us, we’ll take it anyway.”

  “Hawkfrost, you don’t speak for RiverClan!” Mistyfoot snapped at him.

  At the same moment Tornear of WindClan leaped to his paws. “Just try it, if you want a shredded pelt!”

  Hawkfrost whirled on him, unsheathing his claws, and his Clanmate Blackclaw shouldered his way through the crowd to join him, his neck fur bristling and his tail fluffed up to twice its size. Three or four WindClan warriors, Crowfeather among them, jumped up to support Tornear.

  “Stop!” Mistyfoot ordered, leaping from the root where she sat. “This is a Gathering! Have you forgotten that?”

  One or two cats, including Crowfeather, stepped back, but most ignored the RiverClan deputy’s order. Brambleclaw spotted Cedarheart and Rowanclaw from ShadowClan on their paws as well, claws extended. Dustpelt and Thornclaw faced them, spitting defiance. As Brambleclaw stared in horror, the ShadowClan cats leaped at his Clanmates; all four rolled on the ground in a shrieking bundle of fur.

  “No!” Brambleclaw yowled. “Remember the truce!”

  He hurled himself forward, trying to thrust his way between the battling cats, aware that all around him more fights were breaking out. Fastening his teeth into Cedarheart’s shoulder, he tried to haul him off Dustpelt, but another cat landed on his back and knocked him off his paws. As Brambleclaw went down in a sea of fighting warriors, he heard Firestar’s voice raised in a furious yowl.

  “Stop! This is not the will of StarClan!”

  Chapter 12

  Leafpool flattened herself to the ground as fighting surged across the clearing. Horror froze her limbs and made her fur bristle. She couldn’t believe that any cat would dare to break StarClan’s truce. Then she remembered her dream of sticky scarlet waves washing up on the lakeshore. It was true! There could be no peace until blood had spilled blood.

  The clearing was full of spitting, clawing cats. Leafpool tried vainly to spot Crowfeather, terrified that he would be badly injured. She heard her father call out, but his words of command were lost among the screeches of the rival Clans.

  “StarClan help us!” she prayed.

  As if the spirits of her warrior ancestors had heard her plea, a shadow fell across the clearing and the silver wash of moonlight faded. Looking up, Leafpool saw that a cloud had drifted over the moon, hiding it completely. The shrieks of battle began to fade, or changed to yowls of terror. Some cats stopped fighting and crouched motionless, staring at the threatening sky.

  “Look!” It was too dark to see which cat had cried out, but Leafpool recognised the voice of Barkface, the WindClan medicine cat. “StarClan are angry! This must be a sign that the boundaries should stay where they are.”

  In spite of the authority with which the old medicine cat spoke, several voices were raised in screeches of protest. Firestar’s yowl drowned them all out. Leafpool could just make him out in the glitter of starshine, standing on an overhanging branch.

  “Barkface is right!” he called. “StarClan have shown their will. The boundaries will stay as they are. The Gathering is over!”

  “The next RiverClan cat to raise a paw will answer to me,” Leopardstar added, balanced commandingly on her branch. “Every cat go home, now.”

  “That goes for WindClan too,” meowed Onestar, raking the clearing with a furious gaze.

  Blackstar let out a hiss. “This isn’t over,” he snarled.

  “No, it’s not!” another cat called out; peering into the darkness, Leafpool could just make out the massive tabby shape of Hawkfrost. “We’ll discuss it again at the next Gathering.”

  That’s not your decision, Leafpool thought. Hawkfrost was already behaving as if he were Clan leader, and he wasn’t even a deputy. Her mistrust of him made her fur stand on end, even more when she wondered just how much influence he had over his half-brother, Brambleclaw.

  To her relief, the last of the battle was over. Cats broke apart, licking their wounds and glaring at each other. The leaders leaped down from the Great Oak and began to gather their Clans together.

  Leafpool struggled through the shifting mass of cats, all trying to find their Clanmates for the journey home. She couldn’t leave without speaking to Mothwing.

  Heavystep was dead! When Leafpool had decided not to take Mudfur’s message about the catmint to RiverClan, she had comforted herself with the thought that Mothwing would find it anyway, or that the elder would recover without it. It’s my fault he died.

  And what about the dream Mothwing had reported? The dream of two pebbles in a stream? If she had really started to believe in StarClan and receive signs from them, Mudfur wouldn’t have needed Leafpool to take his message. He could have told Mothwing himself. But he hadn’t—which meant Mothwing had lied in front of the whole Gathering.

  Leafpool couldn’t imagine why her friend would do that. What quarrel did she have with Stormfur and Brook, that she would try to drive them out of RiverClan? Leafpool remembered the tension between Mothwing and Hawkfrost, and how keen Hawkfrost had been for his sister to speak out in front of every cat. Could this have been his idea? And if Hawkfrost had tried to coerce Mothwing into lying, why would she go along with him? She was a loyal medicine cat, and had refused to tell Leopardstar about any of Leafpool’s dreams before now because she hated lying.

  Pushing determinedly between a couple of WindClan warriors, Leafpool spotted Mothwing crouching in the shelter of a root of the Great Oak with Willowpaw, as if she had been protecting her apprentice from the battle. But before Leafpool could reach her friend, Hawkfrost appeared; his fur was ruffled but he didn’t seem seriously hurt, even though Leafpool had spotted hi
m in the thick of the fighting.

  He stalked towards his sister with a look of murderous fury in his eyes. “You mousebrained idiot!” he spat. “You nearly ruined everything.”

  Mothwing gave Willowpaw a swift glance. “Go and find Mistyfoot,” she told her apprentice. “Tell her I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Willowpaw sprang up and scampered off, glancing back nervously at Hawkfrost as she went. Leafpool shrank into the shadows; she hated eavesdropping on her friend, but she had to know what was going on.

  “You let me down,” Hawkfrost growled. “You promised me you would tell the Gathering about that dream. We would have been able to get rid of those mangy interlopers right away. Now we’ll be lucky if any cat believes you next time you open your mouth!”

  “Well, why should they?” Mothwing rose and faced her brother, her eyes filled with misery. “We both know it was a lie. I’ve never had any dreams from StarClan.”

  Hawkfrost let out a snort of disgust. “But no cat knows that, do they? That’s just between you and me. They would have listened to you if you hadn’t stood there mewling like a kit. ‘I can’t be sure . . . I need a clearer sign!’” He mimicked his sister’s tones viciously. “I could rip your fur off for this.”

  “I don’t care!” Mothwing retorted. “You made me lie in front of the whole Gathering. That’s worse than losing fur.”

  Leafpool tensed, flexing her claws in case she had to spring to Mothwing’s defense. But she could see that Hawkfrost was making a massive effort to control himself. The fur on his shoulders began to lie flat, and his voice was quieter as he continued. “It wasn’t really lying. You know it’s best if Stormfur leaves. I deserve to be deputy, but if he stays, Mistyfoot will make sure he succeeds her.”

  “He’s a good warrior—”

  “Don’t tell me that!” Hawkfrost hissed. “He was willing to leave his Clan once, so how do we know he won’t leave us again? I’ve always been loyal to RiverClan, and I deserve to be deputy! You know that, and StarClan know that, so why not make sure the whole Clan knows it too?”