CHAPTER 14
Brambleclaw heaved a sigh of relief to come down from Highstones and feel grass under his paws again. They were alone now, a tiny band of cats in a vast, unknown territory. Ravenpaw had pointed out a path across fields divided by sharp, shiny Twoleg fences, and there were many scents of Twolegs and dogs, though none of them were fresh. Woolly faced sheep stared at the travelling cats as they slipped past, their heads low and their ears flat, uncomfortable at being out in the open.
“You’d think they’d never seen a cat before,” Stormfur grunted.
“Maybe they haven’t,” Tawnypelt replied. “There’s no reason for cats to come here. I haven’t had so much as a sniff of prey since we left the barn.”
“Well, I’ve never seen a sheep before,” Squirrelpaw pointed out. She padded a little closer to the nearest one, and Brambleclaw unobtrusively moved up behind her; as far as he knew sheep were not dangerous, but he was taking no chances. Squirrelpaw paused a tail-length away, took a good sniff, and wrinkled her nose. “Yuck! They might look like fluffy clouds on legs, but they smell horrible!”
Tawnypelt yawned. “Can we get on, for the love of StarClan?”
“I wonder why StarClan are sending us to the sun-drown place,” Feathertail meowed, swerving to avoid a grass-cropping sheep that was too close for comfort. “Why couldn’t they have told us what we need to know back in the forest? And why do we have to hear the message at midnight?”
Crowpaw snorted. “Who knows?” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Brambleclaw. “Maybe the ThunderClan warrior can tell us. After all, he’s the only one of us who has seen this place—or so he says.”
Brambleclaw gritted his teeth. “You know as much as I do,” he meowed. “We just have to trust StarClan that it will all come clear in the end.”
“Easy enough for you to say,” Crowpaw retorted.
“Leave him alone!” To Brambleclaw’s amazement, Squirrelpaw darted forward and planted herself in front of the WindClan apprentice. “Brambleclaw didn’t ask for the second dream. It’s not his fault that StarClan chose him.”
“And what do you know about it?” Crowpaw growled. “In WindClan, apprentices know when to keep their mouths shut.”
“Oh, so you’ll be quiet from now on?” Squirrelpaw mewed cheekily. “Good.”
With his top lip drawn back in a snarl, Crowpaw stalked around her and went on.
Brambleclaw padded across to his Clan mate. “Thanks for backing me up there,” he murmured.
Squirrelpaw’s eyes flashed angrily at him. “I’m not doing it for you!” she snapped. “I’m just not letting that stupid furball think WindClan is so much better than ThunderClan.” She dashed off with an annoyed hiss, past Feathertail and Storm fur, who had stopped to watch.
“Don’t get too far ahead!” Brambleclaw called after her, but she ignored him.
As he set off in pursuit, Brambleclaw was uncomfortably aware that none of the other cats had tried to defend him, not even Tawnypelt. They must all be full of doubts about his vision of the sun-drown place, and why they had to go there, just like Feathertail. A sense of responsibility was settling more heavily on Brambleclaw with every step he took, and he knew that if any of his companions were injured or even killed on the journey, it would be his fault. Perhaps StarClan had got it wrong this time. Perhaps in the end, not even the faith and courage of warriors would be enough to bring them through safely.
Not long after sunhigh, they came to their first Thunderpath. It was narrower than the one they were used to, and curved so that they could not see monsters approaching until the last moment. On the opposite side, a tall hedge stretched as far as they could see in both directions.
Crowpaw approached cautiously and sniffed the hard black edge of the Thunderpath. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose. “It’s foul stuff. Why do Twolegs spread it all over the place?”
“Their monsters travel on it,” Stormfur told him.
“I know that!” Crowpaw snapped. “Their monsters stink, too.”
Stormfur shrugged. “That’s Twolegs for you.”
“Are we going to sit here until sunset discussing the habits of Twolegs?” Tawnypelt interrupted. “Or are we going to cross this Thunderpath?”
Brambleclaw crouched on the grass verge, ears pricked to catch the sound of approaching monsters. “When I say ‘now,’ run,” he told Squirrelpaw, who was crouching beside him. “You’ll be fine.”
Squirrelpaw didn’t look at him. She had been in a bad mood ever since her earlier quarrel with Crowpaw. “I’m not scared, you know,” she hissed.
“Then you should be,” Tawnypelt grunted from her other side. “Didn’t you listen to what we told you when we crossed the Thunderpath near Highstones? Get this straight: they’re dangerous even for experienced warriors. Cats have died on them.”
Squirrelpaw glanced up at her and nodded, her green eyes huge.
“Good,” mewed the ShadowClan warrior. “So listen to Brambleclaw, and when he tells you to go, run like you’ve never run before.”
“Before we cross”—Brambleclaw raised his voice so all the cats could hear him—“I think we should decide what we are going to do on the other side. We can’t see beyond that hedge, and I can’t pick up any scents for the reek of the Thunderpath.”
Stormfur raised his head and opened his jaws to taste the air. “Nor can I,” he agreed. “I suggest we cross, go straight through the hedge, and meet up again on the other side. If there is anything dangerous through there, the six of us together should be able to deal with it.”
Brambleclaw was impressed by Stormfur’s sensible thinking. “OK,” he meowed, and the rest of the cats, even Crowpaw, murmured their assent.
“Brambleclaw, you give the word,” Stormfur mewed.
Once more Brambleclaw strained to listen. A low growling in the distance quickly grew into a roar, and a monster leaped around the bend, its unnatural, shiny pelt gleaming as it swept past. It buffeted the cats with a hot, gritty wind and left them choking in the reek it left behind.
Almost at once another monster passed, going in the other direction. Then quiet fell again, heavy like a blanket of snow; when Brambleclaw pricked his ears he could hear nothing but the distant barking of a dog.
“Now!” he yowled.
He sprang forwards, aware of Squirrelpaw keeping pace with him on one side and Feathertail on the other. His paws pattered on the hard surface of the Thunderpath; then he reached the narrow strip of grass on the other side and was thrusting through the hedge, spiky branches snagging in his fur.
Pushing hard, he burst through into the open. For a moment he could not make sense of what he saw, and almost froze in panic. He caught a glimpse of leaping flame, and the acrid tang of smoke filled his throat. There was a high-pitched shout and a Twoleg kit came running toward him, not much taller than a fox, with thick, unsteady legs. The barking of the dog was suddenly much louder.
“Squirrelpaw, stay with me!” He gasped, but when he turned to look for her the ginger apprentice had disappeared.
He heard Stormfur yowling, “Stay together! Over here!”
Brambleclaw glanced around, but he could not see any of his companions, and his paws were carrying him into the depths of a holly bush, the closest refuge he could see. His belly brushing the earth, he crawled into shelter, and felt himself pressing up against fur. He heard a frightened whimper; in the dim light he made out a flecked grey pelt and recognised Feathertail.
“It’s only me,” he murmured.
“Brambleclaw!” Feathertail’s voice was shaking. “For a moment I thought it was that dog.”
“Have you seen the others?” Brambleclaw asked her. “Did you see where Squirrelpaw went?”
Feathertail shook her head, her blue eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’re fine,” he mewed, giving her ear a comforting lick. “I’ll see what’s happening out there.”
He crept forward a couple of tail-lengths until he
could peer out. The fire, he realised thankfully, was only a heap of burning branches, confined to a small area not far from where he had broken in; a fully-grown Twoleg was feeding more branches to it. The Twoleg kit had joined him. Brambleclaw could still hear the dog barking, but he could not see it, and the smoke prevented him from scenting it. More important, he could not see any of his missing companions.
Wriggling back to Feathertail, he whispered, “Come on, follow me. The Twolegs aren’t paying any attention.”
“What about the dog?”
“I don’t know where it is, but it isn’t here. Listen, this is what we’ll do.” Brambleclaw knew that he had to come up with a plan right away, to get Feathertail out of there before panic froze her completely. Their holly bush was growing close to a wooden fence, and a little further along a small tree stretched its branches into the next garden. “Over there,” he meowed, twitching his ears toward it. “Climb the tree; then we can get on top of the fence. We can go anywhere from there.”
He wondered briefly what he would do if Feathertail was so spooked that she refused to move, but the grey she-cat nodded determinedly.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yes—I’ll be right behind you.”
At once Feathertail dived out of their refuge, raced along the bottom of the fence, and took a flying leap into the tree. Brambleclaw, hard on her paws, heard the Twoleg kit shout again. Then he was clawing at the trunk, scrabbling hard until he reached the safety of a branch and the shelter of thick leaves. He caught Feathertail’s scent and saw her blue eyes peering worriedly at him.
“Brambleclaw,” she mewed, “I think we’ve found the dog.”
She twitched her whiskers to point down into the next garden. Brambleclaw peered out of the leaves and saw the dog—a huge brown brute—leaping up and scraping the fence with blunt claws in its efforts to climb up and attack them. As Brambleclaw peered down it let out a flurry of hysterical barking.
“Fox dung!” Brambleclaw spat at it.
He wondered what their chances would be of escaping along the top of the fence, but it was flimsier than the ones he had scaled at the edge of ThunderClan territory, and the dog was shaking it so much that any cat trying to balance there was likely to be flung off into the garden. Brambleclaw imagined those teeth meeting in his leg or neck and decided they were better off staying put.
“We’ll never find the others at this rate,” Feathertail whimpered.
Then Brambleclaw heard the door of the Twoleg nest open. A full-grown Twoleg stood there, shouting at the dog. Still barking wildly, the creature kept up its attack on the fence. The Twoleg shouted again and strode into the garden, grabbed the dog by its collar, and dragged it, protesting, into the nest. The door slammed shut; the barking continued for a moment longer and then stopped.
“See?” Brambleclaw meowed to Feathertail. “Even Twolegs have their uses.”
Feathertail nodded, her eyes filled with relief. Bramble claw slipped out of the tree to the top of the fence and, balancing carefully, padded along it until he reached the hedge that bordered the Thunderpath. From here he had a good view of the gardens on either side. Everything seemed quiet.
“I can’t see or hear the others,” Feathertail mewed as she joined him.
“No, but that could be a good sign,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “If the Twolegs had caught them, they would make such a racket we’d be bound to hear.”
He wasn’t sure that was quite true, but it seemed to reassure Feathertail.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked.
“The danger is inside these gardens,” Brambleclaw decided. “We’ll be safer on the other side of the hedge, beside the Thunderpath. The monsters won’t bother us if we stick to the verge, and once we get to the end of these Twoleg nests there won’t be any more problems.”
“But what about the others?”
That was the question Brambleclaw couldn’t answer. It was impossible to look for their companions with dogs and Twolegs all around. Anxiety stabbed deep in his belly when he thought of Squirrelpaw alone and bewildered in this strange and frightening place.
“They’ll probably do the same,” he meowed, hoping he sounded convincing. “They might even be waiting for us. If not, I’ll come back and have a look after dark, when the Twolegs will be in their nests.”
Feathertail nodded tensely and both cats jumped down from the fence, landing lightly on their forepaws on short, bright green grass. They slipped back through the hedge and along the Thunderpath, keeping well away from its smooth black surface. Monsters passed from time to time, but Brambleclaw was so worried about the missing cats that he hardly noticed the guttural roar and the rush of wind that rocked him on his paws.
Eventually they came to the end of the hedge. The Thunderpath curved away to join another one a little way ahead. Between the two was a wedge of open ground, almost covered by a tangle of hawthorn bushes. On the other side of the Thunderpath, fields stretched away into the distance. A cold breeze ruffled the fur on Brambleclaw’s flank as he gazed across the fields to where the sun was beginning to sink.
“Thank StarClan!” Feathertail breathed.
Brambleclaw led the way into the bushes. They would be safer there, and some of their friends might already be waiting. Leaving Feathertail to keep a lookout, he plunged deeper, searching and calling out their names in a low voice. There was no reply, and he could not pick up any familiar scents.
When he returned to Feathertail, she was sitting with her tail wrapped around her paws. A dead mouse lay beside her.
“Do you want to share?” she mewed. “I caught it, but I don’t really feel like eating right now.”
The sight of prey reminded Brambleclaw how hungry he was. He had eaten well that morning in Ravenpaw’s barn, but they had travelled a long way since then.
“Are you sure? I can catch one for myself.”
“No, go on.” She shoved the mouse towards him with one paw.
“Thanks.” Brambleclaw crouched beside her and took a bite, the warm flavours flooding his mouth. “Try not to worry,” he mewed as Feathertail bent her head to take a halfhearted mouthful. “I’m sure we’ll meet up with the others soon.”
Feathertail stopped eating to give him an anxious look. “I hope so. It feels weird being without Stormfur. We’ve always been closer than most littermates. I suppose it comes from having a father in a different Clan.”
Brambleclaw nodded, remembering how close he had felt to Tawnypelt when they were kits, as they struggled to make sense of their bloodstained heritage from their father, Tigerstar.
“Of course, you’ll understand that.” Feathertail invited him with a twitch of her ears to take more of the mouse.
“Yes,” Brambleclaw replied. He shrugged. “But I don’t miss my father as much as you must miss Greystripe. I wish I could honour his memory, but I can’t.”
“That must be very hard.” Feathertail pressed her muzzle against his shoulder. “At least we see Greystripe at Gatherings. And we were so proud when he was made Clan deputy.”
“He’s proud of you, too,” mewed Brambleclaw, glad to leave the subject of his father behind.
He took his remaining share of the mouse, and while Feathertail forced herself to finish hers he began to plan what they should do next. Venturing out of the bushes he could see the sun setting in rays of fire, blazing out the path that they must take. But there was no hope of continuing until they had found the others.
“They’re not here,” Feathertail murmured, padding up to join him so that her breath was soft against his ear.
“No, I’ll have to go back. You stay here in case—”
A furious yowling interrupted him: the voices of angry, frightened cats, coming from the last garden in the row. Springing to his paws, he met Feathertail’s startled glance.
“There they are!” He gasped. “And they’re in trouble!”
CHAPTER 15
Leafpaw opened her eyes to see fronds of fern abo
ve her head, outlined against a paling sky. At once she remembered that this was the day of the half-moon, when all the medicine cats and their apprentices made the journey to Highstones to meet with StarClan at the mysterious Moonstone. A shiver of excitement ran through her; she had travelled there only once before, when StarClan had received her as a medicine cat apprentice, and the experience would stay with her for the rest of her life.
Leaping up from her comfortable mossy nest, she stretched and yawned, blinking away the last traces of sleep. She could hear Cinderpelt moving around inside her den, and a few moments later the medicine cat poked her head out and scented the air.
“No smell of rain,” she meowed. “We should have a good journey.”
Without any more delay she led the way out of camp. Leafpaw cast a regretful look at the pile of fresh-kill as they passed it; no cat who wanted to share tongues with StarClan was allowed to eat beforehand.
Ashfur, who was on guard beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel, dipped his head as Leafpaw and her mentor went by. Leafpaw felt faintly embarrassed. She was conscious that she was still only an apprentice, and was not yet used to the honour with which warriors treated all medicine cats.
Shadows still lay in the ravine and under the trees as Cinderpelt limped toward Fourtrees, where she and Leafpaw would cross into WindClan territory. Faint rustlings in the undergrowth told them where prey was stirring, but the tiny creatures were safe from hunting for now. From time to time a bird uttered an alarm call as the two cats passed by, no more than shadows themselves in the grey light.
“Practise your scenting skills,” Cinderpelt instructed Leafpaw after a while. “If you can find any useful herbs, we’ll collect them on the way back.”
Leafpaw obeyed, concentrating as hard as she could, until they reached the stream. She and Cinderpelt crouched to lap at the water, then padded along the bank until they reached the place where a rock midstream made it easier to cross. Leafpaw kept an eye on her mentor, worried that her injured leg would give her trouble, but Cinderpelt managed the jump with the ease of long practice.