by Erin Hunter
“That’s a good idea,” Leafpool meowed. “But be careful you—”
She had to break off as Littlecloud, on the other side of the pool, lifted his head, then rose to his paws and arched his back in a long stretch. Barkface was stirring too, and Willowpaw woke, sprang up right away, and pattered across the moss-covered rocks to her mentor.
“It was so scary—but amazing!” she exclaimed, and added more quietly, “I wish you’d been there.” Leafpool’s respect for the apprentice increased as she saw how Willowpaw understood that Mothwing didn’t meet with StarClan. She was also very relieved that Willowpaw had been exhilarated by her vision of StarClan’s world, not paralysed by fear.
“I wish I’d been there too,” Mothwing replied.
“Maybe one day?” Willowpaw mewed.
Mothwing didn’t say anything, but Leafpool could see she didn’t share her apprentice’s confidence.
“Leafpool, what do you think the sign meant?” Willowpaw asked anxiously. “Storm clouds! Do you think there’s trouble coming for our Clans?”
Leafpool flipped the end of her tail across Willowpaw’s mouth, with a glance at Barkface and Littlecloud to make sure they hadn’t heard.
“Medicine cats don’t usually speak of their signs,” she explained. “Not until they’re ready to interpret them to their Clan. Yes, I think it means trouble,” she added. “But it might be as well to say nothing to any cat yet. There’s no sense in spreading alarm until we know more.”
Willowpaw nodded seriously and Leafpool felt a pang of guilt that she wasn’t being entirely open with the young apprentice. Littlecloud and Barkface showed no signs of troubling dreams, so Spottedleaf’s sign must have been for ThunderClan and RiverClan alone. And there was one cat who connected both Clans: Hawkfrost!
As Leafpool followed the path that led out of the hollow she silently thanked StarClan that Mothwing had trusted her enough to tell her about Hawkfrost’s false sign. But she couldn’t be sure that Mothwing would have the courage to defy her brother, whatever she said. She had too much to lose.
A shadow fell across the hollow as Leafpool reached the top of the path. She looked up to see that a cloud had drifted across the moon. Her pelt prickled as a cold breeze swept through the circle of bushes and she felt once more the rushing wind of her dream. She was sure that terrible trouble was coming—and somehow Hawkfrost was involved.
Chapter 20
Brambleclaw stood in the clearing and watched the hunting patrols leave through the thorn tunnel. The dawn patrol had already left, and the early-morning mist was beginning to clear. Above the trees the sky was a pale, distant blue, promising a warm day later. Soon the sun would rise.
The tabby tom glanced around, anxious to make sure that all duties were being covered. The fresh-kill pile was low, but the hunting patrols would take care of that. Daisy was yawning at the entrance to the nursery, watching her kits play-fighting in front of her. Leafpool crossed the camp to the elders’ den, where Mousefur had just emerged, scratching her ear vigorously with one hind paw. Every cat looked sleek and well-fed; even slender Leafpool had grown quite plump. The famine in their old home had become nothing more than an unpleasant memory.
Behind Brambleclaw the branches of the warriors’ den rustled; he glanced back to see Ashfur slipping between them and stopping to give his pelt a quick grooming.
Brambleclaw padded up to him. Whitepaw had gone with her mentor, Brackenfur, on hunting patrol, so the apprentices wouldn’t be training together today.
“Where’s Birchpaw?” he asked. “This would be a good time for a training session.”
Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “I can mentor my own apprentice,” he meowed. “I’ve arranged to give him an assessment today, actually.”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Brambleclaw replied. “Remind him about the fox traps, just in case.”
Ashfur stalked off towards the apprentices’ den without replying. Birchpaw emerged when his mentor called him and listened to his instructions, paws working impatiently in the ground. Then he headed for the camp entrance, stopping for a brief word with Thornclaw as the brown warrior emerged from the tunnel with fresh-kill in his jaws. At last Birchpaw left, bounding away with his tail in the air. Ashfur gave Brambleclaw another resentful glare before he followed.
Brambleclaw told himself he could have been a bit more tactful; even so, if Ashfur’s attitude didn’t improve, he was going to find himself collecting mouse bile for the elders’ ticks.
Suddenly he froze. He had become so caught up in his deputy’s duties that he had almost forgotten about meeting Hawkfrost. Sunrise was not far off; he was going to be late. He headed for the thorn barrier, only to halt, groaning inwardly, when he heard Squirrelflight’s voice behind him.
“Hey, Brambleclaw! Where are you going?”
Brambleclaw turned to face her as she came bounding across the clearing towards him. Squirrelflight hadn’t been assigned to any of the early patrols. She wouldn’t understand why he didn’t want to spend time with her, since he wasn’t going on a patrol either.
“Where are you going?” she repeated as she came up to him. “Hunting? Let’s go together.”
“I have to—” Brambleclaw began awkwardly. He broke off as Daisy’s three kits, Berrykit in the lead, dashed across the clearing and disappeared behind the brambles that screened Leafpool’s den.
“Those bad kits!” Squirrelflight exclaimed. “Remember the mess they made last time? I’d better check that Leafpool is there.”
She raced off. Silently thanking StarClan, Brambleclaw slipped out through the tunnel and headed into the forest at a run, making for the lake.
The sun had risen by now, and the trees were casting long shadows over grass that glittered with dew. Cobwebs shone on every bush. There was no sign of other cats; he had made sure that the hunting patrols went to other parts of the territory.
He paused at the edge of the forest; he heard the gentle lap of water a couple of tail-lengths away and glimpsed its dazzling surface through the thick ferns. Opening his jaws, he tasted the air. He thought he could pick up RiverClan scent, and an unexpected trace of ShadowClan, but he couldn’t see his half-brother. “Hawkfrost?” he called cautiously.
No reply. Brambleclaw spotted a thrush a fox-length or so in front of him, dragging a worm out of the ground. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten that morning, so he dropped instinctively into the hunter’s crouch. In the same heartbeat something heavy crashed down on him, sending him tumbling over. He let out a yowl of alarm and the thrush took off with a loud stuttering cry. Flipping over to face his attacker, Brambleclaw stared up at Hawkfrost, who was gazing down at him with a glimmer of amusement in his ice-blue eyes.
“Do you mind?” Brambleclaw spat. “Do you want every cat in ThunderClan to know you’re here?”
Hawkfrost shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m allowed to be here as long as I stay close to the lake.”
Brambleclaw scrambled to his paws and smoothed his ruffled fur with a couple of licks. Hawkfrost was right, but he would still have some explaining to do if any of his Clanmates spotted him talking to his half-brother. He wished he had Hawkfrost’s confidence, but he reminded himself that he was Clan deputy, and the RiverClan warrior’s equal in every way.
“Come into the ferns,” he meowed, flicking his tail to beckon Hawkfrost.
As they sat close together beneath the arching fronds, Brambleclaw picked up the scent of ShadowClan again. He wrinkled his nose. “You have ShadowClan scent on you,” he mewed.
Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes. “I must have picked up their reek on my way across their territory,” he growled. “Never mind that. We’re wasting time.”
Brambleclaw nodded and took a deep breath. He hoped he could find the right words to let Hawkfrost know his doubts about Tigerstar’s vision, without letting him think he was any less committed to becoming leader of his Clan. “This idea of Tigerstar’s, that we take over ShadowClan and WindClan,” he began, “I’m not
sure it will work. StarClan have decreed there should be four Clans.”
His half-brother flicked the tip of his tail. “Like Tigerstar said, that was back in the forest. Listen, Brambleclaw. ShadowClan have always been a nuisance. Don’t you think life would be better for all of us if they settled down under a leader who could make sure they stuck to the warrior code? Don’t you think you could make a better job of leading WindClan than Onestar? Between us we could ensure that every cat in the forest was strong and happy. No more battles, no more quarrelling over territory . . .”
“Well . . . maybe.” Brambleclaw couldn’t argue with the vision Hawkfrost set in front of him. It was true that strong leaders could rule the forest for the good of every cat. He remembered how the ShadowClan warriors had ignored Berrykit’s cries for help when he was caught in the fox trap. If I were in charge, he thought, no cat would ever watch a kit in pain without trying to help, no matter where that kit came from. He wanted every cat in the forest to be cared for, but more than anything, he wanted what was best for ThunderClan. “But—” A faint cry interrupted him. “What was that?”
Hawkfrost shrugged. “Some unlucky bit of prey.”
The cry came again. “No!” Brambleclaw exclaimed. “That’s a cat in trouble. Come on!”
He dived out of the ferns and pelted along the shore in the direction of the cry. It came again, closer but fainter, a horrible choking sound. Brambleclaw leaped across the roots of a tree and found himself face-to-face with Firestar.
The ThunderClan leader lay on his side on a narrow path between close-growing ferns. His limbs jerked feebly and his eyes gazed at nothing. Foam flecked his muzzle. Around his neck, half buried in his flame-coloured fur, was a thin, shiny tendril, leading to a stick driven into the earth. Firestar was caught in a fox trap!
Brambleclaw leaped forward to help him, only to be thrust aside by Hawkfrost’s powerful shoulder.
“Mousebrain!” the RiverClan warrior hissed. “This is your chance, Brambleclaw. You’re deputy now. If Firestar dies, you’ll be Clan leader.”
Brambleclaw stared at him in astonishment. What is he telling me to do? Then he realised that Firestar was trying to speak.
“Birchpaw told me . . . Blackstar waiting on our territory . . . Had to come alone . . .”
Hawkfrost’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he padded across to Firestar and bent down to whisper in his ear. “But Blackstar isn’t here. We are. You’re a fool, Firestar. You were too easy to trap.”
Brambleclaw felt the ground dip beneath his paws; he couldn’t grasp the details, only that the absence of Blackstar, and the ShadowClan scent on Hawkfrost, added up to something murderously evil. “You did this,” he said to his half-brother. “You arranged for Firestar to be here, where there was a fox trap waiting.”
“Of course.” Hawkfrost sounded scornful. “I did it for you.”
Firestar’s sides heaved as he fought for breath. His gaze flickered from Hawkfrost to Brambleclaw and back again. Brambleclaw could see that unless he loosened the wire right away, his leader would lose a life—perhaps more.
Hawkfrost stepped back. “The brave ThunderClan leader,” he sneered. “Not so powerful now, are you? Come on, Brambleclaw, finish him off.”
Brambleclaw felt as though his paws were frozen to the bare earth. Every hair on his pelt stood on end as he heard Tigerstar whispering in his ear: Kill him. No cat will know. You can be Clan leader. You can have everything you have ever wanted.
He staggered as Hawkfrost gave him a vicious nudge, his tail lashing angrily. “What are you waiting for? This is what we have wanted all along, remember? Kill him now!”
Chapter 21
“They’re doing fine,” Leafpool meowed, stepping back from Sorreltail’s kits. “You must be very proud.”
Sorreltail swallowed a bite of the thrush Leafpool had brought for her. “I am, but I’m sure they’ll be into all kinds of mischief when they’re a little bigger. Worse than Daisy’s, even.” Her amber eyes gleamed with amusement. “Cinderkit needs watching already.”
Leafpool looked down at the kits, where they lay in a purring, drowsy heap. Warmth flooded over her as she remembered what Spottedleaf had shown her. How long would it be before the Clan realised the truth about Cinderkit? Leafpool longed to share the joy of her knowledge with them, but she knew that time had not come yet.
“You’ll need to get all the rest you can, then,” she mewed to Sorreltail. “And keep your strength up. Four kits at once is a big responsibility.”
“I know. I’m really glad you’re here, Leafpool.”
Leafpool shut her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the feelings that had made her consider abandoning her Clan. It was like a shadow inside her, just out of reach. But now it swelled, filling her mind; she tried to shake it off, but the dark feelings seemed to build and build inside her, the guilt changing into a vision of blood and roaring, drowning the soft sounds of Sorreltail’s kits and the warm, milky scents of the nursery.
Something terrible is happening—oh, StarClan, what can it be?
She stumbled blindly out into the clearing, ignoring Sorreltail’s startled exclamation behind her. Once in the open, she realised that everything was peaceful. The clearing was almost deserted, with most cats out on patrol. Bright sunlight shone down from a blue sky streaked with a few fine wisps of cloud.
But Leafpool knew that something was horribly wrong—if not here, then out in the forest. She raced across the clearing, ignoring the puzzled looks from Cloudtail and Brightheart at the fresh-kill pile. Bursting out of the thorn tunnel, she almost crashed into Squirrelflight.
“Hey!” her sister exclaimed. “Take it easy. What’s the matter?”
“Something dreadful,” Leafpool panted. “Badgers— Twolegs—I don’t know. Have you seen anything?”
“No.” Squirrelflight rested her tail on her sister’s shoulder to calm her. “Everything’s fine. I’ve just been looking for Brambleclaw. The annoying furball went off without me. I tried to follow his scent, but I lost it.”
“No, everything’s not fine.” The certainty of her terror rippled through Leafpool’s pelt and struck cold into her bones. “ThunderClan is in great danger. Will you come with me?”
“Of course, but where are we going?”
“I don’t know!” Leafpool’s voice rose. “Oh, StarClan, show us the way!”
She had hardly finished speaking before she heard the sound of a cat blundering through the undergrowth. Fronds of bracken waved wildly as Ashfur dashed into the open. His fur stood on end and his blue eyes were wild with fear.
“Leafpool!” he gasped. “It’s Firestar . . . he’s caught in a fox trap.”
“Where? Why didn’t you get him out?” Squirrelflight demanded, her green eyes blazing.
“Because he’s . . . Brambleclaw is there too.” Ashfur was gasping for air as if he’d just dragged himself out of deep water. “And Hawkfrost is with him—a RiverClan cat on our territory. I couldn’t take on both of them at once. I had to come for help.” He pointed with his tail towards the lake. “That way. Hurry!”
Chapter 22
Brambleclaw stared down at his Clan leader. He still couldn’t move. He knew that all he had to do was tighten the noose around Firestar’s neck, and he would lose his remaining six lives at once. His gaze met Firestar’s, where his leader lay helpless in front of him. But there was no pleading in the green eyes, only a fierce, proud question: What will you do, Brambleclaw? It’s your choice.
Brambleclaw thought of how Firestar and Tigerstar had confronted each other, time after time. Each hated the other for what they stood for, the plans they had for their Clan. But Firestar had never needed to fight Tigerstar to the death. Scourge, the vicious leader of BloodClan, whom Tigerstar himself had invited into the forest, had killed him with a single blow.
This time it looked as though Tigerstar would win. Brambleclaw was aware of his father’s spirit close beside him, urging him on. Fool! Kill him now!
&
nbsp; Closing his eyes, Brambleclaw remembered the clearing at Fourtrees, the blood pouring out onto the grass as Tigerstar lost all nine lives at once. He saw Scourge looking down at his twitching body with cold triumph. Was that what Hawkfrost and Tigerstar wanted him to become?
“Six lives . . .” he murmured. Six lives stood between him and the leadership of ThunderClan.
“That’s right,” Hawkfrost hissed. “This is our chance to take revenge on Firestar for our father’s death. He could have tried to stop Scourge, but he just stood there and watched Tigerstar die, over and over and over.”
Revenge? Brambleclaw wrenched his gaze from Firestar to stare at his half-brother. This wasn’t about revenge. He knew very well that Tigerstar had willingly set his own paws on the path that led to his violent death.
All I want is to lead my Clan, he thought. But not like this. His loyalty was not to ThunderClan alone, but to Firestar too—the cat who had mentored him, accepted him in spite of his father, and in the end had trusted him enough to make him Clan deputy. He had thought that loyalty to the Clan didn’t necessarily mean loyalty to the Clan leader. That wasn’t true. Firestar was ThunderClan.
“No,” he meowed to Hawkfrost, amazed to hear his voice come out strong and steady. “I won’t do it.”
He recalled how Brook and Squirrelflight had freed Berrykit when the kit caught his tail in a fox trap. Leaping over to Firestar’s side, he began scrabbling in the earth, trying to dig up the stick that held the tendril taut around his leader’s neck. “Keep still, Firestar,” he panted as the earth flew. “I’ll have you out of this in a heartbeat.”
A yowl of protest battered his ears; he couldn’t be sure whether it came from Hawkfrost or from the vengeful spirit of Tigerstar. Hawkfrost sprang at him, slamming into his side and knocking him off his paws. Brambleclaw was pinned under him. Hawkfrost’s ice-blue eyes glared into his.