“I knew I smelled intruders!” he hissed.
Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes. Did a pathetic scrap like this really expect to take on three full-grown cats? Crowpaw and Tawnypelt looked calmly at the WindClan apprentice. “Owlkit!” Crowpaw meowed. “Don’t you recognise me?”
The apprentice tipped his head to one side and opened his mouth to scent the air.
“I’m Crowpaw! What are you doing out here, Owlkit? Shouldn’t you be in the nursery?”
The young apprentice flicked his ears. “I’m Owlpaw now,” he snapped.
“But you can’t be an apprentice!” Crowpaw exclaimed. “You’re not six moons old yet.”
“And you can’t be Crowpaw,” growled the tabby. “Crowpaw ran away.” But he loosened his battle-ready muscles and padded over to the WindClan cat, who stood calmly while the apprentice sniffed his flank.
“You smell strange,” Owlpaw declared.
“We’ve travelled a long way,” explained Crowpaw. “But we’re back now, and I need to speak with Tallstar.”
“Who must speak with Tallstar?” A belligerent meow made Squirrelpaw jump, and she turned to see a WindClan warrior pick his way out from the heather, lifting his paws high to avoid the thorns. Two more warriors followed him. Squirrelpaw stared at them in alarm. They were so thin she could see the ribs beneath their fur. Hadn’t these cats been catching any fresh-kill recently?
“It’s me! Crowpaw!” meowed the WindClan apprentice, the tip of his tail twitching. “Webfoot, don’t you recognise me?”
“Of course I do,” meowed the warrior in a flat tone. He sounded so indifferent that Squirrelpaw felt a jab of pity for her friend. This was no sort of homecoming—and Crowpaw hadn’t even given his Clanmates the bad news yet.
“We thought you were dead,” Webfoot meowed.
“Well, I’m not.” Crowpaw blinked. “Is the Clan OK?”
Webfoot’s eyes narrowed. “What are these cats doing here?” he demanded.
“They travelled with me,” Crowpaw replied. “I can’t explain now, but I will tell Tallstar everything,” he added.
Webfoot seemed uninterested in Crowpaw’s words, and Squirrelpaw felt the scrawny warrior’s gaze rake over her as he hissed, “Get them off our territory! They should not be here!”
Squirrelpaw couldn’t help thinking Webfoot was in no state to drive them out if they refused to go, but Brambleclaw stepped forward and dipped his head to the WindClan warrior. “Of course we’ll leave,” he meowed.
“We have to return to our own Clans anyway,” Squirrelpaw added pointedly. Brambleclaw shot her a warning glance.
“Then hurry up,” snapped Webfoot. He looked at Crowpaw. “Come on,” he growled. “I’ll take you to Tallstar.” He turned and began to head for the far side of the clearing.
Crowpaw twitched his tail. “Surely the camp is that way?” he meowed, signalling toward the other direction.
“We live in the old rabbit warrens now,” Webfoot told him.
Squirrelpaw saw confusion and anxiety flash in Crowpaw’s eyes. “The Clan has moved?”
“For now,” Webfoot answered.
Crowpaw nodded, though his gaze was still filled with questions. “Can I say goodbye to my friends?”
“Friends?” One of the other warriors spoke, a pale brown tom. “Do your loyalties lie with cats from other Clans now?”
“Of course not!” Crowpaw insisted. “But we have travelled together for more than a moon.”
The WindClan warriors glanced uncertainly at each other but said nothing as Crowpaw walked over to Tawnypelt and touched her mottled flank with his nose. He brushed affectionately past Brambleclaw and Stormfur; as he stretched his head to touch his muzzle against hers, Squirrelpaw was surprised by the warmth of his farewell. Crowpaw had found it hardest out of all of them to fit into the group, but after all they had been through together, even he felt the bond of friendship that connected all five cats.
“We must meet again soon,” Brambleclaw murmured, his voice low. “At the Great Rock, just as Midnight told us. We need to see the dying warrior so that we know what to do next.” He flicked his tail. “It might not be easy to convince our Clans that Midnight is telling the truth. The leaders aren’t going to want to hear that they must leave the forest. But if we’ve seen the dying warrior . . .”
“Why don’t we just bring our leaders with us?” Squirrelpaw mewed. “If they see the dying warrior too, they’ll have to believe Midnight is right.”
“I can’t imagine Leopardstar agreeing to come,” Stormfur warned.
“Nor Blackstar,” Tawnypelt agreed. “It’s not full moon, so there’s no truce among the four Clans.”
“But it’s so important,” Squirrelpaw persisted. “They must come!”
“We can try,” Brambleclaw decided. “Squirrelpaw’s right. This might be the best way to share the news.”
“OK,” Crowpaw meowed. “We’ll meet at Fourtrees tomorrow night, with or without our leaders.”
“Fourtrees!” Webfoot’s growl made Squirrelpaw jump. The WindClan warrior had obviously overheard their conversation. She felt a stab of guilt, although she knew there was no disloyalty to their Clans in what they were planning—quite the opposite, in fact. But Webfoot seemed to have other fears on his mind.
“You can’t meet at Fourtrees. There’s nothing left of it!” he spat.
Squirrelpaw felt her blood chill.
“What do you mean?” Tawnypelt demanded.
“All the Clans watched the Twolegs destroy it two moonrises ago, when we arrived for the Gathering. The Twolegs and their monsters cut down every one of the oaks.”
“They cut down the oaks?” Squirrelpaw echoed.
“That’s what I said,” growled Webfoot. “If you’re mouse-brained enough to go there, you’ll see for yourself.”
Squirrelpaw’s fierce desire to return home, to see her Clan and father and mother and sister, washed over her again like a wave, and her paws twitched with the urge to run back to the forest. The others seemed to share her feeling; Brambleclaw’s gaze hardened, and Stormfur kneaded the ground impatiently with his paws.
Crowpaw glanced at his Clanmates and then back at his friends. “Good luck,” he meowed quietly. “I still think we should meet there tomorrow night, even if the oaks have gone.” When Brambleclaw and Stormfur nodded, he turned and followed Webfoot into the heather.
As the WindClan cats disappeared from sight, Brambleclaw scented the air. “Let’s go,” he ordered. “We’re heading over the old badger set towards the river, Tawnypelt, but I think you should stay with us till we reach the WindClan border.”
“But it would be quicker if I head straight towards the Thunderpath,” Tawnypelt argued.
“It will be safer if we keep together till we’re off the moorland,” Stormfur meowed. “You don’t want to be caught alone on WindClan territory.”
“I’m not scared of WindClan,” Tawnypelt hissed. “Judging by those warriors, they’re hardly battle-fit.”