“So why did you leave, if it was as good as all that?” Tawnypelt asked; Brambleclaw could see by her twitching tail that her patience was running out.
“My Upwalker died.” The tabby shook his head as if he were trying to flick away a clinging burr. “No more food . . . no more strokin’ by the fire, dozin’ on his lap. . . . More Upwalkers came after that, an’ set traps for me, but I was cunnin’, see. I went away.”
“But what was your name?” Squirrelpaw hissed at him through clenched teeth. “What did the Upwalker call you?”
“Name . . . oh, yes, my name. Purdy, that’s right. He called me Purdy.”
“At last!” Squirrelpaw muttered.
“We’ll call you Purdy, then, shall we?” Brambleclaw meowed, batting Squirrelpaw’s muzzle with the tip of his tail.
The old tabby heaved himself to his paws. “Suit yourselves. Now, do you want food or don’t you?”
He padded off through the trees. Brambleclaw exchanged a doubtful glance with his friends. “Do you think we should trust him?”
“No!” Crowpaw replied at once. “He was a kittypet. Warriors can’t trust kittypets.”
Tawnypelt murmured agreement, but Feathertail meowed, “We’re all so hungry, and we don’t know these woods. Would it do any harm, just for once?”
“I’m starving!” added Squirrelpaw, her claws flexing impatiently.
“StarClan know we could do with some help,” Stormfur mewed. “I can’t say I like it, but so long as we keep our eyes open . . .”
“OK, then,” Brambleclaw decided. “We’ll risk it.”
He led the way, bounding quickly through the undergrowth to catch up to the old tom, who was ambling ahead as if he did not care whether they followed him or not. To Brambleclaw’s surprise, Purdy didn’t show them anywhere in the wood where they could catch prey. Instead he made straight for the far side, where a narrow strip of grass separated the last of the trees from a row of Twoleg nests. Purdy strolled confidently across the grass toward the nearest fence without even looking to see if there was danger.
“Hey!” Crowpaw halted on the edge of the wood. “Where’s he taking us? I’m not going into a Twoleg nest!”
Brambleclaw halted too. For once he agreed with Crowpaw. “Purdy, wait!” he called. “We’re warriors—we don’t go into Upwalker places.”
The old cat paused at the bottom of the fence and looked back, his face creased in amusement. “Scared, are you?”
Crowpaw took a single step forward, his legs stiff and his neck fur bristling. “Say that again!” he hissed.
To Brambleclaw’s surprise, Purdy didn’t flinch a single whisker, even though Brambleclaw would bet that Crowpaw could have ripped him apart.
“Touchy, ain’t he?” the old cat mewed. “Don’t you worry none, young fellow. There’ll be no Upwalkers around just yet. And there’s good food in their garden.”
Brambleclaw looked at the others. “What do you think?”
“I think we should give it a try,” meowed Stormfur. “We need food.”
“Yes, let’s just get on,” Tawnypelt muttered.
Feathertail nodded eagerly and Squirrelpaw gave a little excited bounce. Only Crowpaw stayed apart, staring ahead without replying to Brambleclaw’s question.
“Let’s go, then,” Brambleclaw meowed.
After a cautious glance from side to side he crossed the grass to join Purdy, and the rest of his companions followed, even Crowpaw, though Brambleclaw noticed he trailed behind with his gaze on the ground.
“Crowpaw knows about my saltwater dream,” Feathertail murmured into Brambleclaw’s ear. “He seemed in a good mood when he woke up, so I told him, before the dog started chasing us. I think he’s upset.”
“Well, he’ll have to get over it.” Brambleclaw’s patience was running short; he had enough to worry about without making allowances for Crowpaw’s wounded pride.
Feathertail shook her head doubtfully, but just then they caught up with Purdy, so she said no more.
When they were all together the old tabby pushed his way through a gap in the fence and led the way into the Twoleg garden. Brambleclaw’s nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar smells: at least two Twolegs, the acrid reek of a monster, though to his relief that was stale, and a whole mixture of unfamiliar plant scents. Some of the plants had huge, shaggy flower heads that bent under their own weight; Squirrelpaw sniffed one, and jumped back in surprise as it shed a shower of petals over her fur.
Purdy padded across the grass and sat in the middle of it, waving his tail invitingly. Coming up beside him, Brambleclaw saw a pool of water edged with some hard Twoleg stuff. Pale flowers and green leaves floated on the water, and in the depths he spotted a flash of gold, so bright that he instinctively glanced upward to see if the sun had appeared, but all the sky was still covered with cloud.
“It’s a fish!” Feathertail exclaimed. “A golden fish!”
“What? Fish aren’t golden!” Crowpaw sounded irritable.
“No, but these are.” Stormfur was sitting beside his sister, gazing into the water. “I’ve never seen anything like it. We don’t get those in the river.”
“Can you eat them?” Tawnypelt asked.
“Aye, there’s good eatin’ on one of those,” Purdy told her.
“I’m going to try!” Squirrelpaw gave the water an experimental dab with her paw.
“Not like that!” meowed Stormfur. “You’ll just disturb them and send them all to the bottom. Let me and Feathertail show you.”
The two RiverClan cats sat poised by the edge of the pool, their gazes fixed on the water. Then Feathertail flashed out a paw. A bright golden fish flew into the air in an arc of glittering raindrops and fell on the bank, where it lay wriggling and flopping.
“Someone grab it, before it falls back in,” Stormfur ordered.
Squirrelpaw, who was nearest, pounced on the fish and bit it behind the head. “It’s good!” she announced, swallowing.
Stormfur had already caught another fish, and soon Feathertail caught a third, so that Tawnypelt and Brambleclaw could feed. Brambleclaw tasted his fish with some suspicion, not knowing what he expected, but the flesh was succulent, and he polished it off rapidly.
When Stormfur hooked out the next one, he patted it over to Crowpaw. “Come on . . . it’s OK.”
Crowpaw gave the fish a contemptuous look. “We should be on our way, not messing about with Twoleg stuff. I would never have come if I’d thought the journey to the sun-drown place—or wherever—would take so long. I’m missing out on warrior training with my mentor.”
“I reckon you’re getting some pretty good warrior training here,” Stormfur pointed out.
“Come sit with me,” Feathertail meowed persuasively, “and I’ll teach you how we catch them.”
“Teach me as well, please!” Squirrelpaw demanded eagerly.
Crowpaw glanced scornfully at the ThunderClan apprentice. He padded across to Feathertail, and sat beside her on the side of the pool.
“That’s right,” she meowed. “The trick is not to let your shadow fall on the water. When you see a fish, scoop it up as quickly as you can, before it has time to swim away.”
Crowpaw bent over the water, a paw half extended, and a moment later flashed it down into the pool. He scooped out a fish, but it turned in the air and fell back into the water, spattering Crowpaw with a shower of drops. Squirrelpaw let out a snicker and Brambleclaw glared at her.
“That was very good for a first try,” Feathertail soothed the angry apprentice. “Try again.”
But Crowpaw had backed away from the pool. He dipped his head and began licking the splashes of water from his fur, only to stop in disgust. “What sort of water is this? It’s salty!”
“No, it’s not,” mewed Stormfur in surprise.
Whatever he was going to say was drowned in a crash and an angry Twoleg yell. Brambleclaw looked up to see a Twoleg standing in the open doorway of the nest, shouting. He gripped something in one hand and hu
rled it at the cats; it landed in among the shaggy flowers just beyond Purdy.
“Uh-oh,” mewed the old tabby. “Time to go.”
He lumbered back to the gap in the fence. Brambleclaw and Stormfur followed; Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw streaked ahead to slip through the gap first, with Feathertail on their heels. Crowpaw came last; as he emerged from the garden and raced across the grass to the shelter of the trees, he was spitting fury.
“Why did you take us there?” he demanded, turning on Purdy. “We should never have trusted you. Did you want that Twoleg to catch us? The filthy fish weren’t even worth it.”
“Crowpaw, don’t,” Feathertail pleaded, dropping the fish she was carrying. “There’s nothing wrong with the fish or the water.”
“I tell you it tasted salty!” Crowpaw snapped.
Brambleclaw was about to intervene—they had wasted far too much time, first in fleeing from the dog and now in arguing—until he saw the glow in Feathertail’s eyes.
“You know why it tasted salty to you and not the rest of us, don’t you?” she meowed quietly, resting the tip of her tail on his flank. “It’s your saltwater sign, Crowpaw. You’ve had it at last!”
The grey-black cat opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He stared at the fish and then at Feathertail. “Are you sure?” he meowed, sounding astonished.
“Of course, you stupid furball,” Feathertail purred. Brambleclaw thought that no other cat but Feathertail could call Crowpaw a stupid furball and get away unclawed. “Why else would water in a Twoleg pool taste salty? It’s StarClan’s sign that we’re still on the right track.”
Crowpaw blinked and let his fur lie flat along his spine.
“What’s all this about signs and salt water?” Purdy growled.
“We’re on a really important journey!” Squirrelpaw informed him excitedly. “StarClan sent us to find out something vital for our Clans.”
“Journey . . . where from? What Clans?”
Brambleclaw sighed. Even though he wanted to keep going, he guessed the old tabby was lonely; it seemed unkind to abandon him without even telling him why they were there. He had saved them from the dog, after all, and then led them to the shining golden fish.
“Come here into the bracken,” he meowed. “We won’t be seen there, and then we can tell you all about it.”
All the cats followed him; even Crowpaw didn’t object. Stormfur and Feathertail shared the fish and Tawnypelt kept watch while Squirrelpaw poured out their story. Brambleclaw chipped in to correct her or explain when Purdy didn’t understand.
“StarClan?” the old tom meowed with a doubtful look when Squirrelpaw told him about Brambleclaw’s dream. “Talking to you in dreams? I never heard o’ that before.”
The young apprentice gaped at him, her green eyes filled with disbelief that there could be a cat who did not know about StarClan.
“Just carry on,” Brambleclaw meowed to her, not willing to waste time in long explanations.
Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes at him, but went on without arguing. When she finished, the old loner was silent for a while—so long that Brambleclaw wondered if he had fallen asleep. Then he straightened up and opened his yellow eyes wide, with a fire in them that had not been there before. “I know about this sun-drown place,” he meowed unexpectedly. “I’ve spoken to cats who’ve been there. It’s not far from here.”
“Where?” Squirrelpaw leaped to her paws. “How far?”
“Two, maybe three days’ travel,” Purdy replied. His eyes gleamed. “Tell you what, I’ll come with you an’ show you.”
His expression faded to disappointment when the forest cats said nothing. At last, Crowpaw voiced what Brambleclaw was thinking. “No way. You won’t be able to travel fast enough.”
“And I don’t remember inviting you,” Tawnypelt muttered.
“But if he knows the right way . . .” Stormfur mewed. “Maybe we should let him come.”
“He’s bound to know the way through this Twolegplace,” Feathertail added, twitching her tail toward the rows and rows of dull red Twoleg nests that blocked their view of the horizon.
That was true enough, Brambleclaw thought, remembering the trouble they had met in the last Twolegplace. If Purdy really did know the way to the sun-drown place it might be quicker to go with him, even if he couldn’t move so fast. Perhaps he was the guide StarClan had sent in response to Brambleclaw’s prayer. He seemed an unlikely saviour, but he certainly had the courage of any forest cat.
“OK,” he meowed, realising with a jolt of surprise that the other cats were looking at him as if they expected him to make the decision. “I think he should come.”
CHAPTER 20
Purdy led the forest cats along the edge of the wood. It was the day after their narrow escape from the dog, and Brambleclaw was still struggling with doubts about his decision to follow the old cat; he knew that Crowpaw and Tawnypelt were unhappy about it, too. But there seemed no other choice; more and more Twoleg nests filled the horizon, and clouds still covered the sky, so there was no sun to guide them to the sun-drown place.
“Is there any chance of more food?” he asked Purdy as they left the trees behind and began to cross a grassy space dotted with clumps of brightly coloured flowers. “The fish yesterday weren’t really enough, and Crowpaw didn’t eat at all.”
“Sure, I can take you to a place,” Purdy replied with a hostile glance at Crowpaw, who had been the most outspoken in voicing his distrust of the old cat.
He led them to the other side of the grassy place, where there was yet another row of Twoleg nests. Brambleclaw watched uneasily as the old cat flattened his belly to the ground and heaved himself under a wooden gate, grunting with the effort and shaking himself vigorously on the other side.
“More Twolegs?” Crowpaw hissed. “I’m not going in there.”
“Suit yourself,” Purdy meowed, beginning to pad up the path to the door with his tail held straight up.
“We’d better all stay together,” Brambleclaw murmured. “Remember what happened last time.”
Crowpaw snorted but said nothing, and none of the other cats disagreed. One by one they squeezed under the gate and followed Purdy up the path. Crowpaw came last, casting wary glances behind him.
Purdy was waiting for them by the half-open door of the Twoleg nest. A harsh glow lit up the space inside it, which was full of strange shapes and scents that Brambleclaw had never encountered before.
“In there?” he mewed to Purdy. “You’re expecting us to go into an Upwalker nest?”
Purdy twitched his tail impatiently. “That’s where the food is. I know this place. I often come here.”
“This is wasting time,” Tawnypelt meowed. Brambleclaw thought his sister sounded scared; her claws were flexing anxiously on the hard stuff of the path. “We can’t go in there. We’re not kittypets. Eating kittypet food is against the warrior code.”
“Oh, come on.” Stormfur gave Tawnypelt’s ear a friendly flick with his tail. “There’s no harm in it. We’re on a long journey, and if we can get food easily it saves time we would have to spend hunting—time we might need for something else. StarClan will understand.”
Tawnypelt shook her head, still unconvinced, but Feathertail looked reassured by her brother’s reasoning, and both RiverClan cats ventured cautiously inside.
“That’s right,” Purdy encouraged them. “There’s the food, see, in bowls over there, all ready for us.”
Brambleclaw’s stomach growled; the fish he had eaten had been small, and it had been a long time ago. “OK,” he meowed. “I think Stormfur’s right. Let’s go, but make it quick.”
Squirrelpaw didn’t wait for his decision, bounding inside hard on Purdy’s paws. Brambleclaw followed her, but Crowpaw and Tawnypelt stayed outside.
“We’ll keep watch!” Tawnypelt called after him.
Stormfur and Feathertail were already crouched beside the bowls, gulping eagerly. Brambleclaw peered suspiciously at the food; it was har
d, round pellets like rabbit droppings, but the scent that came from it told him it would be safe to eat.
Squirrelpaw thrust her muzzle into the other bowl; when she looked up her fur was plastered into spikes by something white, and her green eyes were glowing. “It’s good!” she exclaimed. “Purdy, what is it?”
“Milk,” Purdy replied. “A bit like the milk you suck from your mother.”
“And kittypets drink this every day?” Squirrelpaw was astonished. “Wow! It’s nearly worth being a kittypet.” She plunged her muzzle back into the bowl.
Brambleclaw crouched beside her and lapped up a few drops of the white liquid. Squirrelpaw was right—it was good, rich and full-tasting with hardly any tang of Twolegs about it. He settled down and tucked in.
The first hint he had of trouble was the sound of a door opening and a high-pitched Twoleg voice crying out above his head. Brambleclaw sprang to his paws in time to see a Twoleg kit run through the door and scoop up Feathertail in her arms.
Taken by surprise, Feathertail let out a startled yowl and began struggling, but the young Twoleg had her in a tight clasp. Stormfur stretched up with his forepaws, trying to reach his sister, but the Twoleg kit took no notice. Brambleclaw stared in dismay. Feathertail! He glanced around for Purdy, only to see the old cat padding calmly towards a full-grown Twoleg that stood in the doorway, waving his tail in welcome.
Then Crowpaw appeared from the garden, a black whirlwind with glaring amber eyes. “See?” he hissed at Brambleclaw. “This is your fault! You let that old mange bag bring us here.”
Brambleclaw gaped at the accusation, but Crowpaw did not wait for an answer. He spun around to face the Twoleg kit, lips drawn back in a snarl. “Let her go, or I’ll claw you to shreds!” he spat.
The little Twoleg, happily stroking Feathertail with loud squeaking noises, hadn’t noticed Crowpaw, nor understood his threat. The black apprentice was ready to spring when Squirrelpaw slipped in front of him. “Wait, mouse-brain! It’s only a kit. Do it this way.”