by Erin Hunter
As sunhigh approached they left the forest behind and the cliffs sank away until the cats were walking along a pebbly path beside the river. There was a roaring in the air that gradually grew louder.
“What’s that?” Leafstar asked.
“A waterfall,” Cora replied.
Leafstar’s paws tingled. “Do we have to climb down it?”
The black she-cat shook her head. “No, there’s another way, but it took us ages to find it when we were on our way here.”
She had hardly finished speaking when the patrol came to the top of the waterfall. The river fell over it in a smooth curve and plunged into a pool far below that churned and foamed, filling the air with fine mist. Jagged rocks poked out of the water on either side. Beside the river the ground fell away in a sheer cliff; Leafstar scanned it, but she could see hardly any paw holds that would help a cat trying to climb down, nothing but a few scrubby bushes too far apart to be of any use.
“This way,” Stick called, waving his tail. He led the patrol along the top of the cliff until it gradually began to slope down, and the ground sprouted gorse and thick clumps of heather rather than bare rock, slick with moss.
“We can get down here,” the brown tom announced. “Follow me and watch where you’re putting your paws.”
The cats straggled out into a long line as they followed Stick down the slope. The ground underpaw was treacherous; there were unexpected dips and hollows, and places where the ground crumbled away under the weight of a single paw. Leafstar found it tough to force her way through the tightly woven heather stems, and the thorns of the gorse bushes raked her pelt. Every cat was exhausted by the time they reached the bottom and headed back to the river.
“Let’s rest,” Sharpclaw suggested. “And we might take some time to hunt.”
Leafstar nodded, though the Twolegplace cats didn’t look happy; she guessed that they wanted to force the pace as much as they could, to get back to their home all the sooner.
But that’s not going to happen. What use will it be, if we’re all worn out when we get there?
When they went on, the path beside the river became smooth and sandy, easier on their paws. They passed a clump of elder bushes, and followed a curve to see several Twoleg nests standing beside a round, shallow pool.
“Is that your Twolegplace?” Sparrowpelt asked Shorty.
“No, ours is much bigger than that,” Shorty told him, adding discouragingly, “and we’ve got a long way to go yet.”
Stick led them away from the river, skirting the Twoleg nests in a wide circle. Twilight was gathering by the time they came to a small Thunderpath and halted at the edge.
“At least when it’s getting dark you can see the monsters’ eyes,” Waspwhisker murmured.
But everything was dark and quiet, and they crossed the Thunderpath without any problems.
“It’s time we made camp for the night,” Leafstar announced when they reached the other side. “Stick, do you know any good places?”
“Yes, but we’ll have to get away from these Twoleg nests first.”
Stick brought them to a spot where the riverbank sloped down steeply and there were hollows among the roots of trees that shaded the water. Leafstar fell asleep with the gentle gurgle of the current in her ears.
The cats rose at dawn; there was plenty of prey among the trees, and they hunted successfully before carrying on. Not long after sunhigh they came to open fields, with Twoleg nests here and there at a safe distance. Leafstar relaxed and enjoyed the warmth as they padded through lush grass at the edge of the river.
“What are those?” Shrewtooth whispered, waving his tail at a group of huge short-haired animals who stood in the grass several fox-lengths away; their pelts were black and white, and they chewed placidly as their gaze followed the cats.
“Cows,” Shorty replied. “Don’t worry; they’re not dangerous.”
But even Leafstar felt doubtful when a couple of the beasts padded over and snuffled curiously at her and her Clanmates. Their feet are so big and hard, like yellow rocks! Sharpclaw snapped out an order to pick up the pace, and to Leafstar’s relief the cows didn’t follow them as they bounded away.
Sliding under a fence made of shiny tendrils strung between wooden uprights, the patrol came to a field that at first glance seemed to be empty. The ground sloped upward to the horizon; the rough clumps of grass were shorter, with the occasional outcrop of rock.
“I don’t like this,” Rockshade muttered to Egg. “It’s too quiet.”
Almost before he had finished speaking, the silence was broken by the barking of a dog. The cats froze; the sound grew rapidly louder, and the dog bounded over the brow of the hill: a massive creature with a rough, gingery pelt. Its tail flapped and its barking rose to a high-pitched yapping as it made for the cats.
“Run!” Shrewtooth yowled.
But there was nowhere to run to. The field stretched away, empty in all directions. There were no fences or walls in sight, not even a tree to climb.
“No!” Leafstar ordered, aware that at any moment the patrol would panic and scatter. “Hide—here, under the bank.”
Sharpclaw went first, launching himself over the grassy edge before any cat had a clear idea of what they might find there. “It’s all right!” he yowled when he was out of sight. “Come on!”
Leafstar stood guard, her claws extended and her lips drawn back in a snarl as the dog hurtled toward her. “Stay back, flea-pelt!” she spat.
The dog hesitated just long enough for the rest of the patrol to bundle themselves over the edge of the bank. Leafstar leaped after them and found herself on a narrow pebbly stretch of ground, washed by the river. Grass and foliage hung over the water, making it harder to see them from above.
The patrol huddled together, staring upward, while the dog ran up and down above their heads, whining and snuffling. Leafstar knew it would be only a moment before it tracked them by their scent and launched itself down on top of them.
Then what do we do? Swim?
To her relief she heard the sound of a Twoleg voice, raised in a loud yowl. It sounded angry. The dog went on whining and searching for a moment more; then Leafstar heard its receding paw steps. Its scent began to fade.
“That was close!” Sparrowpelt panted.
Leafstar warned her cats to wait a few heartbeats more to make sure that the dog had gone before they climbed back onto the bank. Egg hung back, gazing into the water; then he darted a paw into the stream and hooked out a fish that flopped and wriggled on the stretch of pebbles until he killed it with a bite to the neck.
“Egg, that was brilliant!” Billystorm exclaimed. “Where did you learn to fish like that?”
The young tom ducked his head modestly. “I used to stay beside the river sometimes.”
He lugged his catch up into the field and the whole patrol crowded around to share it. The fish was big enough for every cat to have a few bites.
“That was good,” Sharpclaw meowed, swiping his tongue around his jaws. “It looks as if we were right to bring you, Egg.”
The cream-colored tom’s eyes shone with pride. Sharpclaw was right all along, Leafstar mused. SkyClan is stronger for having Egg with us.
By the time the patrol had finished eating, the sun was sliding down the sky and there was a chill in the air.
“We’d better look for somewhere to spend the night,” Sharpclaw meowed. “Stick, do you know of anywhere safe, where that dog won’t bother us?”
Stick looked doubtful. “We’ve only been this way once before,” he reminded the deputy. “We’ll just have to hope the Twoleg keeps the dog shut up at night.”
The patrol plodded on beside the river until they came to a thick hedge. Beyond it was another field; Leafstar peered through the thorny branches and spotted more of the gigantic black-and-white cows.
“I think we should stop here,” she decided. “We probably won’t find anywhere better. If we sleep under the hedge the branches should keep us safe from
the dog.”
“All the same, we should set a watch.” Sharpclaw stretched his jaws in a vast yawn. “I’ll go first, and wake one of you later on.”
He sat just outside the hedge, his gaze scanning the field and the river; Leafstar stood beside him while the rest of the patrol crawled into shelter underneath the branches.
“Ow!” Cherrytail gave a hiss of annoyance. “I’ve just put my paw on a thorn.”
“Then watch where you’re putting it, mouse-brain,” Sparrowpelt muttered. “And take your tail out of my ear.”
Once her warriors were settled, Leafstar crept under the hedge and managed to make a nest for herself among the dead leaves. It’s not going to be a comfortable night, she realized with an inward sigh. My pelt feels as if it’s full of thorns.
She jumped at a low-pitched, sorrowful noise coming from the other side of the hedge. Shrewtooth, curled up close by, raised his head with his eyes stretched wide. “What was that?”
As the noise came again, Billystorm stuck his head out of the branches on the other side. “Don’t worry,” he reported. “It’s only one of those cows.”
“Well, I hope they’re not going to keep it up all night,” Rockshade snapped from farther down the hedge. “I want to get some sleep.”
Leafstar closed her eyes and wrapped her tail over her nose. For a few heartbeats the noise of the cows disturbed her, but gradually she slipped into sleep.
Mist surged around her; she couldn’t see more than a tail-length beyond her muzzle. Damp grass brushed her pelt and the gurgle of the river over stones sounded unnaturally loud. Where am I? she wondered, knowing that she was dreaming. StarClan, have you something to show me?
As if in answer, a company of cats burst out of the mist in front of her and streamed past her, all heading upriver. She could see the closest ones clearly, make out the color of their pelts, and pick up their wild, distant scent, but others were no more than blurred shapes in the cloud.
“Come on!” Voices began to echo around her. “We’re bound to find somewhere soon.”
“My paws are dropping off.” The voice of a cranky elder. “And my bones have never been so damp.”
“Beechpaw! This isn’t the time to be chasing leaves. Get back here right now!”
“We must keep going.” The words were low and urgent, and Leafstar thought she recognized the voice of Cloudstar. “Sooner or later we’ll find a new home.”
The cats pressed on around Leafstar; they all seemed to know that the new home they had never seen must lie upriver. It was a struggle for Leafstar to walk through them against the flow; she tangled with their legs and tails as they pushed her from both sides, almost carrying her off her paws.
Are they trying to tell me I’m going the wrong way?
At last Leafstar managed to thrust her way to the back of the group. An old cat with a scruffy ginger pelt and rheumy eyes was bringing up the rear. As his gaze fell on Leafstar he halted and stared straight at her: the only cat who had noticed that she was there.
Leafstar shivered as he spoke the words of the prophecy to her: “This is the leaf-bare of my Clan. Greenleaf will come, but it will bring even greater storms than these. SkyClan will need deeper roots if it is to survive.”
With a gasp, Leafstar jumped awake, scrambling to her paws. Next to her, Shrewtooth started up, his fur bristling as he tried to look in every direction at once.
“It’s okay,” Leafstar soothed him, resting the tip of her tail on his shoulder. “It was just a dream.”
The young black tom sank back into his nest. “Are you all right?” he whispered. “Did you have a message from StarClan?”
Leafstar realized that other cats had roused and were watching her; Sharpclaw had come off watch and had his intent green gaze fixed on her.
She shook her head. “No, it was nothing but a bad dream.”
I can’t share this sign with them. Is StarClan telling me that I’m doing the wrong thing?
More than anything, the repetition of the prophecy disturbed her. Surely she wasn’t putting down deeper roots for her Clan by taking off like this to help other cats far away? Desperately she wished that SkyClan’s destiny wasn’t so obscured by shadows and doubts and so many possibilities. Nothing seems clear, and I’m frightened that it’s weakening my Clan.
Sharpclaw held Leafstar’s gaze for a moment longer, then stretched out his forepaws and raised his rump in a long stretch. “We’re all awake,” he meowed. “Why don’t we carry on? It should be dawn soon.”
“Good idea,” Waspwhisker agreed. “I think every thorn in this hedge is pricking me.”
Leafstar nodded agreement; the Clan deputy called to Cherrytail, who was keeping watch, and the patrol crawled out into the field beyond. Clouds had risen to cover the sky and there was little light, but the sound of the river guided their paw steps. Dew-laden grass brushed their pelts as they padded through it; Leafstar shivered as the moisture soaked through her fur.
She realized as they continued that Stick and the other Twolegplace cats were clearly growing more tense. They seemed always on the alert, starting at every unexpected noise.
“Are we near your Twolegplace?” she asked Stick.
The brown tom shook his head. “Not yet. But we should get there today if we make good time.”
As the sun came up the clouds cleared away and the dew dried from the grass. The day grew hotter, and it was harder to keep putting one paw in front of another with the sun beating down on their backs. With Stick urging them on, the cats kept going until sunhigh, then stopped to hunt and take a brief rest. When they went on, the ground began to slope away from them; the river tumbled over rocks in a series of shallow waterfalls, gurgling into pools where foam spun on the surface.
“The water looks so cool,” Cherrytail murmured. “I’m going to rest my paws in it.” She padded down the bank and waded into the water, letting out an appreciative little trill. “It’s lovely! Come and try it!”
The Twolegplace cats looked doubtful, but all the Clan cats followed Cherrytail into the water. Leafstar enjoyed the cool touch on her paws. We’ve come so far, even SkyClan pads get sore!
“I’m getting out,” Rockshade announced after a few moments. “I’m being splashed, and my fur’s cold.”
“Yes, come on,” Stick called from the bank. “We’ll never get there at this rate.”
The river grew wider, with trees shading it on either side. The flow seemed almost sluggish here, after the bubble and chatter of the waterfalls.
“This is where we had the flood two seasons ago,” Coal told Leafstar. “Firestar and Sandstorm were caught in it. That’s how we met them: Firestar came looking for Sandstorm in our Twolegplace.”
Leafstar nodded; Firestar had told them the story while he was with SkyClan. She shuddered at the thought of a wall of water thundering down this quiet river. If Firestar had drowned, SkyClan would never have been reborn.
The sun was starting to go down again when the river curved in a wide loop and Leafstar spotted the walls and rooftops of a Twolegplace in the distance. “Is that where we’re going?” she asked Cora, who was padding next to her.
The black she-cat nodded. At the same moment, Stick veered away from the river and led the patrol across a stretch of open ground and into a patch of sparse woodland, made up mostly of spindly hazel saplings. Leafstar could detect faint scents of cat among the trees, and tried to decide if any of them belonged to Stick and his friends, from when they lived and hunted here. She picked up one scent that seemed familiar, but it was a she-cat scent, and not Cora’s.
I wonder if that could be Red?
Stick led the way through the wood to a narrow, shallow stream at the other side. A fallen tree lay across it; Stick ran nimbly over to the other bank, and the rest of the patrol followed him. The walls of the Twolegplace lay in front of them on the other side.
“Dodge lives up there,” Coal told the patrol, angling his ears upstream. Leafstar glanced in the direction he po
inted, but there were no cats in sight, and no scents; Dodge’s camp must be a good way away.
She and her warriors followed Stick down an alley and into the depths of the Twolegplace. Leafstar’s pelt prickled as the walls closed around her. This wasn’t like the Twolegplace near the gorge. There was crumbling stone everywhere she looked; debris lay in the alleys, and with each breath she took in the faint stench of crow-food.
The SkyClan cats bunched closer together as Stick led them onward. Leafstar felt comfort in Billystorm’s pelt brushing hers on one side, and Cherrytail’s on the other. Their route led around corners, over walls, and through tunnels that led underneath Thunderpaths, until Leafstar had lost all sense of direction.
I hope we can follow our scent trail back if we need to get out quickly.
Stick increased the pace as they headed farther into the Twolegplace, until he was bounding along. Cora, Shorty, and Coal ran faster too, their eyes shining. They’re really glad to be back, Leafstar thought, amazed that any cat could actually enjoy living in this dirty, Twoleg-scented place.
Shorty and Cora raced past Stick as the cats emerged into a stretch of open ground where a few straggling bushes grew, with the occasional twisted tree. They pelted across the rough grass and into the mouth of an alley on the opposite side.
“Snowy! Are you here?” Shorty yowled.
There was a pause, then Cora let out a gasp. “Percy! You’re back!”
Stick and Coal raced after their friends into the alley. Leafstar and the Clan cats followed. As they entered the narrow passageway, Leafstar saw the Twolegplace cats crowding around a dark gray tabby tom, with a white she-cat beside him; Leafstar flinched when she saw the raw pink scars around the tom’s eye. Dodge did that to him.
“He just appeared!” the she-cat, Snowy, was explaining. “The Twolegs brought him back.”
Shorty was giving his friend a thorough inspection. “You smell different,” he pronounced.
Percy nodded. “I feel kind of different, too.”
Sparrowpelt shouldered his way into the crowd around the gray tom and sniffed at him curiously. “You’ve been to the Cutter, haven’t you?” Glancing around, he realized that every cat was staring at him, and gave his chest fur a couple of embarrassed licks. “It happened to some of the cats back when I lived in my Twolegplace.”