“Not so, grey warrior,” rasped Midnight. “See.” She pointed with her snout across the sun-drown water to where a single warrior of StarClan still shone brightly just above the horizon. “StarClan has seen our meeting. Pleased they are, and help they will give in dark days coming.”
Stormfur gazed up at the brilliant point of light and let out a faint sigh. He was no medicine cat, accustomed to sharing tongues with their warrior ancestors. His task was to offer his strength and skill in the service of his Clan—and now, it seemed, of all the forest cats. Midnight had made it clear that each and every Clan would be destroyed if they could not ignore the ancient boundaries and work together for once.
“Midnight, when we go home—”
His question was never finished. A yowl interrupted him, and he turned to see Squirrelpaw burst out of the tunnel that led down into the badger’s sett. She stood in the entrance, her dark ginger fur fluffed up and her ears pricked.
“I’m starving!” she announced. “Where’s the prey around here?”
“Budge up, and let the rest of us out.” Crowpaw’s irritable voice sounded behind her. “Then we might be able to tell you.”
Squirrelpaw bounced forwards a few paces, and the WindClan apprentice emerged, followed closely by Feathertail. She stretched with pleasure in the sunlight. Stormfur got up and bounded over the tough moorland grass so he could touch noses with his sister. He had not been one of StarClan’s original chosen cats, but he had insisted on coming on the journey to protect Feathertail. With their mother dead and their father living in a different Clan, the two cats were much closer than ordinary siblings.
Midnight lumbered after him and nodded a greeting to the cats.
“Tawnypelt’s much better this morning,” Feathertail reported. “She says her shoulder hardly hurts at all.” To Midnight she added, “That burdock root you gave her really helped.”
“Root is good,” the badger rumbled. “Now injured warrior travel well.”
As she spoke, Tawnypelt herself appeared from the tunnel; Stormfur was relieved to see that she looked stronger after her long sleep and was scarcely limping at all.
Following Tawnypelt, her brother, Brambleclaw, pushed his way out of the tunnel and stood blinking in the growing light. “The sun’s nearly up,” he meowed. “It’s time we were on our way.”
“But we have to eat first!” Squirrelpaw wailed. “My belly is growling louder than a monster on the Thunderpath! I could eat a fox, fur and all.”
Stormfur had to agree with her. Hunger clawed at his own belly, and he knew that without food they would not be able to face the long and exhausting journey back to the forest. Yet he shared Brambleclaw’s urgency; how would they feel if they delayed too long, and then discovered cats had died because of it?
A look of exasperation flitted over Brambleclaw’s face. His voice was firm as he replied, “We’ll pick up some prey as we go. And once we get back to the woods where we made camp, we’ll have a proper hunt.”
“Bossy furball,” Squirrelpaw muttered.
“Brambleclaw’s right,” Tawnypelt meowed. “Who knows what’s happening at home? There’s no time to waste.”
A murmur of agreement rose from the other cats. Even Crowpaw, who usually challenged Brambleclaw’s decisions even more than Squirrelpaw, had nothing to say. With a slight shock, Stormfur realised that their long journey, and the threat to all their Clans, had changed them from a group of squabbling rivals into a unified force with a single purpose, to save their Clanmates and the warrior code that had protected them for so long. A warm feeling of belonging swept over Stormfur. His loyalty towards RiverClan was complicated—knowing how their half-Clan heritage made other warriors suspicious of him and Feathertail—but here he knew he had found friends who judged him without thinking about Clan differences all the time.
Brambleclaw paced forwards until he stood in front of Midnight. “The thanks of all the Clans go with you,” he mewed.
Midnight grunted. “Time is not yet for farewell. I come with you as far as woods, make sure you know right path.”
Without waiting for the cats to agree or thank her, she lumbered off across the moor. Ahead of her, the sky had become too bright to look at as the sun began to edge its way above the horizon. Stormfur blinked gratefully at the yellow light. The setting sun had guided them on their journey to find the sun-drown place; now the rising sun would guide them home.
The four chosen cats—along with Stormfur and Squirrelpaw, who had come with Brambleclaw after an argument with her father, Firestar—had set out from the forest blindly following a half-understood prophecy from StarClan. Now that they had discovered what the prophecy meant, it was easier to decide what to do next, but at the same time it was terrifying to know just how much danger their Clans were in.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Squirrelpaw asked, dashing off to overtake Midnight.
Her Clanmate Brambleclaw followed more slowly, looking deep in thought, as if he were imagining all the difficulties they would have to face on their way back to the forest. At his side, Tawnypelt seemed refreshed from her night’s rest, and even though she was still limping, her eyes showed nothing but determination to make the long journey home. Feathertail trotted with her tail up, clearly enjoying the bright morning, while Crowpaw loped along beside her, keeping his ears pricked and his muscles tense, as if he were already anticipating trouble.
Stormfur, bringing up the rear, breathed a swift prayer to StarClan. Guide our paws, and bring us all safely home.
As the sun climbed higher, the sky became a deep, clear blue, dotted with fluffy scraps of cloud. The weather was warm and kind for so late in leaf-fall. A breeze swept over the grass, and Stormfur’s mouth watered as he caught the scent of rabbit. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white tail bobbing as the rabbit vanished over the crest of a gentle slope.
Instantly Crowpaw darted after it.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Brambleclaw called after him, but the WindClan apprentice was gone. The tabby warrior’s tail lashed irritably. “Does he ever listen?”
“He won’t be long,” Feathertail soothed him. “You could hardly expect him to ignore a rabbit when it pops up right under our noses.”
Brambleclaw’s only reply was another swish of his tail.
“I’ll fetch him back,” Stormfur meowed, bunching his muscles to spring in pursuit.
Before he could move, the dark grey apprentice reappeared at the top of the rise. He was dragging the rabbit with him; it was almost as big as he was.
“Here,” he meowed ungraciously as he dumped it on the ground. “That didn’t take long, did it? I suppose we’re allowed to stop and eat it?”
“Of course,” Brambleclaw replied. “Sorry, Crowpaw. I’d forgotten how fast WindClan cats can be. This . . . this moorland must feel like home to you.”
Crowpaw acknowledged the apology with a curt nod as all six cats crowded around the fresh-kill. Stormfur stopped short when he noticed a glow of admiration in Feathertail’s eyes. Surely his sister couldn’t be interested in Crowpaw? All he ever did was argue and push himself forwards as if he were already a warrior. A cat from another Clan—and an apprentice at that!—had no right to start padding after Feathertail. And whatever did Feathertail see in him? Didn’t she know the problems this sort of thing could cause—hadn’t she learned that from their own parents?
Then Stormfur’s gaze slid across to Squirrelpaw. Had he any right to criticise Feathertail, when he liked Squirrelpaw so much? But then, he told himself, any cat would like the brave, intelligent ThunderClan apprentice. And he knew better than to start something with a cat from another Clan, when they couldn’t possibly have a future together.