by Erin Hunter
Brambleclaw scrabbled his way under, feeling the fence stuff scrape against his back. Beside him, Stormfur was doing the same. As Brambleclaw straightened up again, he heard a furious wail from further down the fence.
“I’m stuck!”
The voice was Squirrelpaw’s. Heaving a sigh, Brambleclaw padded along the fence towards her, with Stormfur beside him. Crowpaw and Feathertail were already standing beside the young apprentice, and Tawnypelt came up a moment later.
“Well, what are you all staring at?” Squirrelpaw meowed. “Get me out!”
The ginger apprentice was flat on her belly, halfway beneath the fence. Just where she had tried to slide through, the fence stuff had started to come unravelled, and the ends were tangled in her fur. Every time she wriggled, the sharp ends of fence stuff dug into her skin and made her squeak with pain.
“Keep still,” Brambleclaw ordered. He turned and studied the sturdy wooden post. “Then we can see what to do. Maybe if we dig up the fence post the stuff will come loose.”
The post looked pretty solidly set in the ground, but if they all helped . . .
“It would be quicker to bite through the fence,” Stormfur argued. He tugged at the shiny strands with his front teeth, but they did not give way. He straightened up, spitting. “No, it’s too tough.”
“I could have told you that,” Crowpaw meowed. “Far better to bite through her fur and free her that way.”
“You leave my fur alone, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw snapped.
The WindClan apprentice bared his teeth with the hint of a snarl. “If you’d been more careful, this wouldn’t have happened. If we can’t get you out, you’ll have to stay here.”
“No, she won’t!” Stormfur rounded on the other cat. “I’ll stay with her, if no one else will.”
“Fine.” Crowpaw shrugged. “You stay here, and the four of us who are actually chosen will go on without you.”
Stormfur’s neck fur bristled and he sank his weight onto his haunches so that his leg muscles bulged under the dark grey fur; the two cats were heartbeats away from a fight. With a stab of panic Brambleclaw realised that two or three sheep had wandered up and were staring at the group of cats, while from further away came the sharp barking of a dog. They would have to move quickly.
“That’s enough,” he meowed, thrusting himself between the two hostile toms. “No cat is being left behind. There must be a way to get Squirrelpaw out of there.”
He turned back to the apprentice to see Tawnypelt and Feathertail crouched beside her. Feathertail was chewing up dock leaves. “Honestly!” she exclaimed as she spat out the last of them and shot an exasperated glance at Brambleclaw. “Do you toms never do anything but argue?”
“It’s what they do best,” Tawnypelt mewed, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. “That’s right, spread the dock leaves on her fur. They should make it good and slippery. Breathe in, Squirrelpaw. You’ve been eating too many mice.”
Brambleclaw watched as Feathertail worked the chewed-up dock into Squirrelpaw’s pelt, rubbing it with one forepaw into the tangle of fur around the fence stuff.
“Now try again,” Tawnypelt directed.
Squirrelpaw scrabbled at the ground with her forepaws and tried to use her hind legs to push herself forward. “It’s not working!” She gasped.
“Yes, it is.” Feathertail’s voice was tense, and she pressed her paw against Squirrelpaw’s shoulder, which was slippery with green slime. “Keep going.”
“And hurry!” Brambleclaw added.
The dog barked again and the watching sheep scattered. Dog-scent drifted toward them on the breeze, getting stronger. Stormfur and Crowpaw braced themselves to flee.
Squirrelpaw gave one last enormous heave and shot through into the field. A knot of ginger fur slid off the fence stuff; a few strands of it were left behind, but Squirrelpaw was free. She stood up and shook herself. “Thanks,” she meowed to Feathertail and Tawnypelt. “That was a brilliant idea!”
She was right; Brambleclaw wished he had been the one to think of it. But at least they could go on now, straight into the path of the setting sun—and quickly, before that dog reached them. He led the way across the next field, confident that StarClan were guiding them.
When he woke the next morning, Brambleclaw was dismayed to see the sky covered by a thick layer of cloud. His confidence in StarClan’s guidance faltered. This was what he had been afraid of; perhaps it was just luck that had kept the sky clear until now. How was he supposed to know which way to go if he couldn’t see the sun?
Scrambling to his paws, he saw that his companions were still sleeping. The night before they had found no better shelter than a hollow place in a field under a couple of scrawny thorn trees. Brambleclaw found that he was growing more and more nervous without the familiar forest canopy overhead. He had never realised before how much he and his Clan mates relied on the trees: for prey, for shelter, and for concealment. Anxiety over Bluestar’s prophecy bit even more sharply, as if badger’s teeth were closing in his neck.
Paws itching to be on their way, he climbed the side of the hollow and looked around. The sky was unbroken grey; the air felt damp, as if there were rain to come. In the distance was a belt of trees, and the walls of more Twoleg nests. Brambleclaw hoped that their path would not lead them back among Twolegs.
“Brambleclaw! Brambleclaw!”
Some cat was calling his name excitedly. Brambleclaw turned to see Feathertail racing toward him up the side of the hollow.
“I’ve had it!” she exclaimed as she drew closer.
“Had what?”
“My saltwater sign!” Feathertail let out a delighted purr. “I dreamed of padding along a stretch of stony ground, with water washing over it. When I bent down to take a drink, the water was all salty, and I woke up tasting it.”
“That’s great, Feathertail.” Brambleclaw’s anxiety faded a little. StarClan were still watching over them.
“That means that Crowpaw is the only one of us who hasn’t had a sign,” Feathertail went on, glancing down into the hollow where Brambleclaw could just see the grey-black curve of Crowpaw’s back as he slept in a clump of grass.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him about your dream, then?” he suggested uneasily.
“We can’t do that!” Feathertail looked shocked. “He’d find out sooner or later, and then he’d think we were deliberately deceiving him. No,” she added after pausing to think, “let me tell him. I’ll wait to catch him in a good mood.”
Brambleclaw snorted. “You’ll wait a long time, then.”
Feathertail let out a faint mew of distress. “Oh, Brambleclaw. Crowpaw’s not so bad. It was hard for him, leaving the forest just when he was about to be made a warrior. I think he’s lonely—I have Stormfur, and you have Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw. We all knew each other before this, but Crowpaw is on his own.”
Brambleclaw hadn’t thought of that before. It was worth thinking about, though it wouldn’t make it any easier to get on with Crowpaw the next time he started arguing the smallest point.
“We’re all loyal to our Clans,” he meowed. “And to the forest and the warrior code. Crowpaw is no different. He’d be fine if he didn’t want to be leader all the time, when he’s no more than an apprentice.”
Feathertail still looked uneasy. “Even if you’re right, it won’t make it any easier for him, knowing he’s the only one who hasn’t had a vision.”
Briefly Brambleclaw touched Feathertail’s muzzle with his own. “You tell him, then, when you think best.” Glancing around, he added, “We’d better wake them all and get moving. If we can work out which way to go.”
“That way.” Feathertail sounded confident as she waved her tail toward the belt of trees on the far side of the field. “That’s where the sun went down last night.”
And after that? Brambleclaw wondered. If there was no sun, how could they find their way? Would StarClan send them something else to help them find the sun-drown place? As he padded down
into the hollow to wake his companions, he sent up a quick prayer to his warrior ancestors.
Show us the way, please. And guard us all when the trouble comes—whatever it is.
CHAPTER 18
“We’re running short of celandine.” Cinderpelt poked her head out of the cleft in the rock. “I’ve used nearly all of it to soothe Longtail’s eyes. Do you think you could go out and get some more?”
Leafpaw looked up from the daisy leaves she was chewing into a paste. “Sure,” she meowed, spitting out the last scraps. “This is just about ready. Do you want me to take it along to Speckletail?”
“No, I’d better check on her myself. Her joints have been aching badly since the weather turned so damp.” Cinderpelt came out of her den and let out a purr of approval as she nosed the chewed-up leaves. “That’s fine. Off you go—and take a warrior with you. The best celandine grows near Fourtrees, along the RiverClan border, and RiverClan aren’t happy that WindClan are still coming down to drink at the river.”
Leafpaw was surprised. “Still? But there’s been so much rain—they must have water of their own by now.”
Cinderpelt shrugged. “Try telling that to WindClan.”
Leafpaw put the news out of her mind as she brushed through the fern tunnel into the main clearing. That quarrel had nothing to do with ThunderClan, and most of her thoughts were taken up with anxiety about Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. The sun had risen four times since she saw them leave. Her private sense of Squirrelpaw told her that her sister was still alive, but she knew nothing about where they were or what they were doing.
She had not eaten that morning, so she padded across to the fresh-kill pile, where Sorreltail was finishing off a vole.
“Hi.” The young tortoiseshell warrior flicked her tail in greeting as Leafpaw chose a mouse for herself and settled down to eat.
Leafpaw returned her greeting. “Sorreltail,” she asked, “are you busy this morning?”
“No.” Sorreltail gulped down the last of her vole and sat up, swiping her tongue appreciatively around her jaws. “Did you want something?”
“Cinderpelt has asked me to go up toward Fourtrees, by the RiverClan border, to collect some celandine. She said I should take a warrior with me.”
“Oh, yes!” Sorreltail sprang to her paws, excitement gleaming in her amber eyes. “In case WindClan accidentally stray into our territory, yes? Just let them try!”
Leafpaw laughed and quickly ate the rest of her mouse. “Right, I’m ready. Let’s go!”
As they approached the end of the gorse tunnel, Firestar appeared, followed by Brackenfur and Rainwhisker. Leafpaw felt a thorn stabbing at her heart when she looked at her father; his head was down and his tail drooping, and even his flame-coloured pelt seemed dull.
“Nothing?” Sorreltail asked him quietly; Leafpaw realised that she knew exactly what their leader had been doing.
Firestar shook his head. “Not a trace of them. No scent, no pawmarks, nothing. They’ve gone.”
“They must have left the territory days ago,” Brackenfur meowed sombrely. “I don’t think there’s any point in sending out more patrols to look for them.”
“You’re right, Brackenfur.” Firestar let out a heavy sigh. “They’re in the paws of StarClan now.”
Leafpaw pressed her muzzle against his side, and his tail curled around to brush her ears before he padded off across the clearing. Leafpaw saw Sandstorm meet him at the base of the Highrock, and the two cats went off together towards Firestar’s den.
Guilt swept over her as she remembered how much she was hiding—most of all, the certainty that Squirrelpaw was safe, though far from ThunderClan territory—and every hair on her pelt prickled so much that it seemed impossible that no other cat noticed as she followed Sorreltail out of the camp.
As the sun rose higher the morning mists cleared away; the day promised to be hot, although the red-gold leaves on the trees showed that leaf-fall had taken over the forest. Leafpaw and Sorreltail headed toward Fourtrees. The medicine cat apprentice purred with satisfaction as she watched Sorreltail dashing ahead to investigate every bush and hollow that they passed. There was no sign of the shoulder injury that had kept Sorreltail from her warrior ceremony for so long, and no trace of bitterness that she had waited twice as long as other apprentices to receive her warrior name. Though she was older than Leafpaw, she still had all the joyful energy of a kit.
As they drew close to the RiverClan border, Leafpaw heard the soft rush of the river, and caught glimpses of it sparkling through the undergrowth at the edge of the trees. She found huge clumps of celandine where Cinderpelt had suggested, and settled down to bite off as many stems as she could carry.
“I can take some too,” Sorreltail offered, glancing back as she padded up to the border. “Yuck—RiverClan scent marks! They make my fur curl.”
She stood gazing out over the slope that led down to the river, while Leafpaw got on with her task. It was almost finished when she heard her friend calling to her.
“Come and look at this!”
Bounding to Sorreltail’s side, Leafpaw looked down the slope to see a large group of WindClan cats gathered beside the water to drink. She recognised Tallstar and Firestar’s friend Onewhisker among them.
“They are still drinking at the river!” she exclaimed.
“And look at that.” Sorreltail pointed with her tail to where a RiverClan patrol was crossing the Twoleg bridge. “If you ask me, there’s going to be trouble.”
Mistyfoot was at the head of the patrol; she had brought with her the new warrior Hawkfrost and an older cat Leafpaw did not know, a tom with a black pelt. They padded down the slope and stopped a few fox-lengths away from the WindClan cats. Mistyfoot called out something, but she was too far away for Leafpaw to hear what she said.
Sorreltail’s tail twitched. “I wish we could get a bit closer!”
“I think crossing the border would be a really bad idea,” Leafpaw mewed nervously.
“Oh, I know that. It looks like it could be interesting, that’s all.” She sounded resigned, as if the thought of helping RiverClan settle their border dispute had appealed to her.
By now, Mistyfoot’s fur was bristling furiously, her tail fluffed out to twice its size. Tallstar left his Clan mate and came closer to talk to her. Hawkfrost said something urgently to the RiverClan deputy, but she shook her head and he took a pace back, looking angry.
Eventually Tallstar returned to his Clan mates, who finished drinking and set out for their own territory. They took their time; it looked to Leafpaw as if they were leaving because they had finished, not because Mistyfoot had ordered them off. Several of the WindClan cats hissed at the RiverClan patrol as they passed, and Leafpaw could tell that Mistyfoot had her work cut out holding back her two companions from a fight. They were badly outnumbered—Leafpaw could only guess how frustrated Mistyfoot must feel that she couldn’t enforce her territory boundaries, thanks to the agreement at the last Gathering.
When the WindClan cats had vanished in the direction of Fourtrees, Mistyfoot gathered her patrol together to lead them down beside the river. Impulsively, Leafpaw called out to her; the RiverClan deputy turned and spotted her, and after a heartbeat’s hesitation padded up the slope to join her and Sorreltail on the border.
“Hello, there,” she meowed. “How’s the prey running with you?”
“Fine, thank you,” Leafpaw replied. She flashed a warning glance at Sorreltail, thinking it would be as well not to mention the confrontation with WindClan they had just witnessed. “Is all well in RiverClan?”
Mistyfoot inclined her head. “Yes, everything’s fine, except . . .” She paused and then went on: “Have you seen anything of Stormfur and Feathertail? They disappeared from our territory four dawns ago. No cat has seen them since.”
“We tracked them as far as Fourtrees, but of course we couldn’t search on other Clans’ territories,” Hawkfrost added, coming up in time to hear what his deputy was saying. The black
warrior stayed where he was, keeping watch beside the riverbank.
Hawkfrost dipped his head courteously to Leafpaw and Sorreltail. He was a powerful tabby with a glossy dark pelt, and for a heartbeat Leafpaw thought he reminded her of some cat she had seen before—but no other cat in the forest had such icy, piercing blue eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Feathertail and Stormfur have left RiverClan?”
“Yes.” Mistyfoot’s eyes were troubled. “We thought they must have decided to go to ThunderClan to be with their father.”
Leafpaw shook her head. “We haven’t seen them.”
“But we’ve lost cats too!” Sorreltail exclaimed, lashing her tail eagerly. “And . . . yes, that was four dawns ago.”
“What?” Mistyfoot stared at her in disbelief. “Which cats?”
“Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw,” Leafpaw replied, wincing. She wished Sorreltail hadn’t blurted that out; her instinct had been to keep their disappearance secret from other Clans, but there was no taking the words back now.
“Is something taking them away?” Mistyfoot spoke almost to herself. “Some predator?” She shuddered. “I remember those dogs. . . .”
“No, I’m sure that’s not what has happened.” Leafpaw wanted to reassure her without giving away the secret that only she knew. “If it was a fox or a badger, there would be traces. Scent, droppings . . . something.”
The RiverClan deputy still looked doubtful, but Sorreltail’s eyes brightened.
“If they all decided to leave the forest, perhaps they’ve gone together,” she suggested.
Mistyfoot looked even more confused. “I know Feathertail and Stormfur sometimes felt the Clan still blamed them for having a father in RiverClan,” she meowed. “And Brambleclaw has to bear the burden of being Tigerstar’s son. But Squirrelpaw . . . What reason could there be for her to leave her home?”
Only the fire-and-tiger prophecy, Leafpaw thought, and then remembered that Squirrelpaw herself had no knowledge of it—only what must have seemed to be unfair criticism from their father. It was the prophecy in Brambleclaw’s dream that had sent Squirrelpaw on her journey. But for now Leafpaw could say nothing about either prophecy.