Midnight

  “While the rest of us get a good night’s sleep,” Cloudtail added.

  The Clan leader flashed him a warning glance but said nothing as the cats parted to let Sorreltail take up her position in the middle of the clearing. She sat with her tail curled around her paws and her gaze fixed on the darkening sky, where the light of Silverpelt grew steadily stronger.

  With the ceremony over, the rest of the cats slipped away into the shadows. Brambleclaw stretched and yawned, looking forward to his comfortable nest in the warriors’ den, but content to stay in the clearing for a while to enjoy the warm evening. He could not see any signs that other cats had shared his disturbing dream; and yet Bluestar had suggested that three other cats would be involved in the new prophecy. Brambleclaw felt a purr rising into his throat, half-amused by how quickly he had believed that a cat from StarClan had visited him in his dreams. That would teach him to gulp down fresh-kill just before he went to sleep.

  “Brambleclaw.” Firestar padded over and settled down beside him. “Cloudtail says you hunted well today.”

  “Thank you, Firestar.”

  The leader’s gaze was fixed on his daughters, Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, who were heading towards the pile of fresh-kill.

  “Do you miss Tawnypelt?” Firestar meowed unexpectedly.

  Brambleclaw blinked in surprise. Tawnypelt was his sister; the former ThunderClan deputy, Tigerstar, had fathered them before he had been banished from the Clan for trying to seize power from Bluestar, who was leader then. Later Tigerstar had made himself leader of ShadowClan, only to be killed by a rogue cat in a failed attempt to extend his power over the whole forest. Tawnypelt had always felt that ThunderClan blamed her for her father’s crimes, and she had made the decision to join ShadowClan shortly after he became that Clan’s leader.

  “Yes,” Brambleclaw replied. “Yes, Firestar, I miss her every day.”

  “I didn’t understand how you might feel about her. Not until I saw how close those two are.” Firestar nodded towards the two sister apprentices, who were choosing prey from the pile.

  “Firestar, you’re not being fair to yourself,” Brambleclaw insisted uncomfortably. “After all, you miss your sister, don’t you?” he dared to add.

  Firestar had begun life as a kittypet before he joined ThunderClan, and his sister, Princess, still lived with Twolegs. Firestar visited her from time to time, and Brambleclaw knew very well how important they were to each other. Princess had given Firestar her firstborn kit to raise as a warrior—and that was Cloudtail, Brightheart’s loyal friend.

  The Clan leader tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Of course I miss Princess,” he meowed at last. “But she’s a kittypet. She could never live this kind of life. You must wish that Tawnypelt had stayed here in ThunderClan.”

  “I guess I do,” Brambleclaw admitted. “But she’s happier where she is.”

  “That’s true.” Firestar nodded. “The most important thing is that you’ve both found a Clan where you can be loyal.”

  A warm feeling crept through Brambleclaw. Once Firestar had doubted his loyalty because he looked so much like his father, Tigerstar, with the same muscular body and dark tabby pelt, the same amber eyes.

  Brambleclaw suddenly wondered if a truly loyal Clan cat would mention the disturbing dream and Bluestar’s warning that great trouble was coming to the forest. He was trying to find the words to start when Firestar stood up, dipped his head briefly in farewell, and padded over to where Sandstorm was sitting with Greystripe near the Highrock.

  Brambleclaw almost followed him, but then he reminded himself that if StarClan really wanted to send a prophecy of great danger, they would not give it to one of the youngest, least experienced warriors in the Clan. They would tell the medicine cat, or perhaps the Clan leader himself. And obviously Firestar and Cinderpelt had not received an omen, or they would be telling the Clan what to do about it. No, Brambleclaw told himself again, there was nothing whatsoever to worry about.

  CHAPTER 2

  The sun had not yet risen when Brambleclaw set out with the dawn patrol. Even in the few days since Sorreltail’s warrior ceremony, the leaves had begun to turn to gold and the first chill of leaf-fall lay on the forest, though it still hadn’t rained for longer than a moon. The young warrior shivered as long grasses, heavy with dew, brushed against his fur. Cobwebs spread a grey film over the bushes, and the air was filled with damp, leafy scents. The twittering of waking birds began to drown out the soft padding of the cats’ paws.

  Brightheart’s brother, Thornclaw, who was in the lead, paused to look back at Brambleclaw and Ashfur. “Firestar wants us to check Snakerocks,” he meowed. “Watch out for adders. There are more of them since the weather has been so hot.”

  Brambleclaw instinctively unsheathed his claws. The adders would be hidden in cracks now, but as soon as the sun came up the warmth would tempt them out again. One bite from those poisoned jaws could kill a warrior before a medicine cat could do anything to help.

  Before they had gone very far Brambleclaw began to hear faint sounds behind him, as if something were moving around in the undergrowth. He paused, glancing back in the hope of an easy bit of prey. At first he could see nothing; then he noticed the fronds of a thick clump of fern waving about, though there was no breeze. He sniffed the air, opening his jaws to drink it in, before letting the breath out again with a sigh.

  “Come out, Squirrelpaw,” he meowed.

  There was a moment’s silence. Then the bracken waved again and the stems parted as the dark ginger she-cat came out into the open. Her green eyes glared defiance.

  “What’s going on?” Thornclaw padded up to Brambleclaw, with Ashfur just behind him.

  Brambleclaw indicated the apprentice with a flick of his tail. “I heard something behind us,” he explained. “She must have followed us from the camp.”

  “Don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here!” Squirrelpaw protested hotly.

  “You shouldn’t be here!” Brambleclaw retorted; somehow Squirrelpaw had only to open her mouth for him to feel that his fur was being rubbed the wrong way.

  “Stop bickering, the pair of you,” Thornclaw growled. “You’re not kits anymore. Squirrelpaw, tell us what you’re doing. Did some cat send you with a message?”

  “She wouldn’t have been skulking in the bracken if they had,” Brambleclaw couldn’t resist pointing out.

  “No, they didn’t,” Squirrelpaw meowed with a resentful glance at Brambleclaw. Her paws scuffled in the grass. “I wanted to come with you, that’s all. I haven’t been on a patrol for ages.”

  “And you weren’t told to come on this one,” Thornclaw replied. “Does Dustpelt know you’re here?”

  “No,” Squirrelpaw admitted. “He promised last night we’d do some training, but every cat knows he spends all day in the nursery with Ferncloud and their kits.”

  “Not anymore,” Ashfur mewed. “Not since the kits opened their eyes. Squirrelpaw, I think you might be in trouble if Dustpelt goes looking for you.”

  “You’d better go back to camp right away,” Thornclaw decided.

  Anger flared up in Squirrelpaw’s eyes, and she took a step forward that brought her nose-to-nose with Thornclaw. “You’re not my mentor, so don’t order me around!”

  Thornclaw’s nostrils flared minutely as he let out a patient sigh, and Brambleclaw admired his self-control. If Squirrel paw had spoken to him like that, he would have been tempted to rake his claws over her ear.

  Even Squirrelpaw seemed to realise she had gone too far. “I’m sorry, Thornclaw,” she meowed. “But it’s true I haven’t been on patrol for days. Please can I come?”

  Thornclaw exchanged a glance with Ashfur and Bramble claw. “All right,” he mewed. “But don’t blame me if Dustpelt turns you into crowfood when we get back.”

  Squirrelpaw gave a little skip of excitement. “Thank you, Thornclaw! Where are we going? Are we looking for anything special? Is there going to be trouble?”

  Thorn
claw swished his tail across her mouth to silence her. “Snakerocks,” he replied. “And it’s up to us to make sure there won’t be trouble.”

  “Watch out for adders, though,” Brambleclaw added.

  “I know that!” Squirrelpaw flashed back at him.

  “And we do it quietly,” Thornclaw ordered her. “I don’t want to hear another squeak out of you unless there’s something I need to know.”

  Squirrelpaw opened her mouth to reply, then took in what he had said and nodded vigorously.

  The patrol set off again. Brambleclaw had to admit that now she had gotten her own way, Squirrelpaw was behaving sensibly, slipping quietly along behind the leader and staying alert for every sound and movement in the undergrowth.

  The sun was well risen by the time the four cats emerged from the trees and saw the smooth, rounded shapes of Snakerocks in front of them. A dark hole gaped at the foot of one of them; it was the cave where the dog pack had hidden. Brambleclaw shuddered, remembering that Tigerstar, his own father, had tried to lead the savage animals to the Thunder Clan camp in deadly revenge against his former Clan mates.

  Squirrelpaw noticed his expression. “Scared of adders?” she taunted him.

  “Yes,” Brambleclaw replied. “And so should you be.”

  “Whatever.” She shrugged. “They’re probably more scared of us.”

  Before Brambleclaw could stop her, she bounded forward into the clearing, obviously meaning to poke her nose into the hole.

  “Stop!” Thornclaw’s voice brought her skidding to a halt. “Hasn’t Dustpelt told you that we don’t go dashing in anywhere before we’re sure of what we’re going to find?”

  Squirrelpaw looked embarrassed. “Of course he has.”

  “Well, then, act like you might have listened to him once or twice.” Thornclaw padded up beside the apprentice. “Have a good sniff,” he suggested. “See if you can scent anything.”

  The young she-cat stood with her head raised, drawing the morning air into her mouth. “Mouse,” she meowed brightly after a moment. “Can we hunt, Thornclaw?”

  “Later,” the warrior replied. “Now concentrate.”

  Squirrelpaw tasted the air again. “The Thunderpath, just over there”—she waved her tail—“and a Twoleg with a dog. But that’s stale,” she added. “I’d guess they were here yesterday.”

  “Very good.” Thornclaw sounded impressed, and Squirrel paw curled her tail up in delight.

  “There’s something else,” she went on. “A horrible scent . . . I don’t think I’ve smelled it before.”

  Brambleclaw raised his head and sniffed. He quickly identified the scents Squirrelpaw had mentioned, and the new, unfamiliar one. “Badger,” he meowed.

  Thornclaw nodded. “That’s right. It looks as if it’s moved into the cave where the dogs were.”

  Ashfur groaned. “Just our luck!”

  “Why?” Squirrelpaw asked. “What are badgers like? Are they a problem?”

  “Are they ever!” Brambleclaw growled. “They’re no good to any cat, and they’d kill you as soon as look at you.”

  Squirrelpaw’s eyes widened, though she looked more impressed than frightened.

  Ashfur cautiously approached the dark cave mouth, sniffed, and peered inside. “It’s dark as a fox’s heart in there,” he reported, “but I don’t think the badger is at home.”

  While he was speaking Brambleclaw suddenly caught the scent again, much stronger this time, washing over him from somewhere behind them. He leaped around to see a pointed, striped face appear from behind the trunk of a nearby tree, its huge pads crushing the grass, its muzzle snuffling along the ground.

  “Look out!” he yowled, every hair on his pelt bristling in fear. He had never been this close to a badger before. Whirling around, he dashed out into the clearing. “Squirrelpaw, run!”

  As soon as Brambleclaw gave the alarm, Ashfur dived into the undergrowth, while Thornclaw bounded toward the safety of the trees. But Squirrelpaw stayed where she was, her gaze fixed on the huge creature.

  “This way, Squirrelpaw!” Thornclaw called, starting to come back.

  The apprentice still hesitated; Brambleclaw barrelled into her, thrusting her toward the trees. “I said run!”

  Her green eyes, blazing with fear and excitement, met his for a heartbeat. The badger was lumbering forward, its small eyes glittering as it scented cats intruding onto its territory. Squirrelpaw pelted toward the edge of the clearing and launched herself up the nearest tree. Reaching a low branch she dug in her claws and crouched there, her ginger fur fluffed out.

  Brambleclaw clawed his way up beside her. Down below the badger was blundering back and forth, as if it could not tell where the cats had gone. Its black-and-white head swung threateningly from side to side. Brambleclaw knew that it could not see very well; usually badgers only came out after dark, and this one would be on its way back to the cave after a night’s feeding on worms and grubs.

  “Would it eat us?” Squirrelpaw asked breathlessly.

  “No,” Brambleclaw replied, trying to slow his pounding heart. “Even a fox kills to eat, but a badger will kill you just for getting in its way. We’re not prey to them, but they won’t tolerate any trespassers on their territory. Why did you hang about down there instead of running like we told you?”

  “I’ve never seen a badger before, and I wanted to. Dustpelt says we should get all the experience we can.”

  “Does that include the experience of having your fur ripped off?” Brambleclaw asked dryly, but for once Squirrel paw didn’t reply.

  While he was speaking Brambleclaw hadn’t taken his eyes off the creature below. He breathed a sigh of relief as it gave up the search and padded over to the cave mouth, where it squeezed itself inside and was gone.

  Thornclaw leaped down from the tree where he had taken refuge. “That was closer than I’d like,” he meowed as Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw scrambled down to join him. “Where’s Ashfur?”

  “Here.” Ashfur’s pale grey head popped out of a tangle of briars. “Do you think that badger is the same one that killed Willowpelt last leaf-bare?”

  “Maybe,” Thornclaw replied. “Cloudtail and Mousefur drove it away from the camp, but we never found out where it went.”

  A pang of sadness went through Brambleclaw as he remembered the silver-grey she-cat. Willowpelt was the mother of Sorreltail, Sootfur, and Rainwhisker, but she had not lived to see her kits become warriors.

  “So what are we going to do about it?” Squirrelpaw asked eagerly. “Shall we go in there and kill it? There are four of us, and only one badger. How hard could it be?”

  Brambleclaw winced, while Thornclaw closed his eyes and waited a moment before speaking. “Squirrelpaw, you never go into a badger’s den. Or a fox’s, for that matter. They’ll attack right away, there isn’t enough room to manoeuvre, and you can’t see what you’re doing.”

  “But—”

  “No. We’ll head back to camp and report it. Firestar will decide what to do.”

  Without waiting for Squirrelpaw to argue any more, he set off in the direction they had come. Ashfur fell in behind him, but Squirrelpaw paused at the edge of the clearing. “We could have dealt with it,” she grumbled, glancing back longingly at the dark mouth of the cave. “I could have lured it out, and then—”

  “And then it would have killed you with one swipe of its paw, and we’d still have to go back and report it,” Brambleclaw meowed discouragingly. “What do you think we would have said? ‘Sorry, Firestar, but we accidentally let a badger get your daughter’? He would have our fur off. Badgers are bad news, and that’s that.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t catch Firestar leaving a badger in ThunderClan territory without doing anything.” Squirrel paw swung her tail up defiantly and plunged into the undergrowth to catch up with Thornclaw and Ashfur.

  Brambleclaw raised his eyes, murmured, “Great StarClan!” and followed.

  When he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing, t
he first cat he saw was Dustpelt. The brown tabby warrior was pacing up and down outside the apprentices’ den, his tail lashing from side to side. Two of the other apprentices, Spiderpaw and Whitepaw, were crouched in the shade of the ferns, watching him apprehensively.

  As soon as Dustpelt spotted Squirrelpaw, he marched across the clearing towards her.

  “Uh-oh,” Squirrelpaw muttered.

  “Well?” the tabby warrior’s voice was icy. Brambleclaw winced, knowing how short-tempered he was; the only cat who had never felt the rough side of his tongue was Ferncloud. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Squirrelpaw met his glare bravely, but there was a quaver in her voice as she replied, “I went on patrol, Dustpelt.”

  “Oh, on patrol! I see. And which cat ordered you to go? Greystripe? Firestar?”

  “No cat ordered me. But I thought—”

  “No, you didn’t think.” Dustpelt’s voice was scathing. “I told you we would train today. Mousefur and Brackenfur took their apprentices to the training hollow to practise their fighting moves. We could have gone with them, but we didn’t, because you weren’t here. Do you realise that every cat has been searching the camp for you?”

  Squirrelpaw shook her head, scuffling the ground with her front paws.

  “When no cat could find you, Firestar took out a patrol to try following your scent. Did you see anything of him?”

  Another shake of the head. Brambleclaw realised that following a scent in the heavy dew that morning would have been next to impossible.

  “Your Clan leader has better things to do than chase after apprentices who can’t do as they’re told,” Dustpelt went on. “Thornclaw, why did you let her go with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Thornclaw apologised. “I thought she’d be safer with us than wandering around the forest by herself.”

  Dustpelt snorted. “That’s true.”

  “We could still go and do the training,” Squirrelpaw suggested.

  “Oh, no. No more training for you until you learn what being an apprentice really means.” Dustpelt paused for a heartbeat. “You can spend the rest of the day looking after the elders. Make sure they have enough fresh-kill. Change their bedding. Go over their pelts for ticks.” He blinked. “I’m sure Cinderpelt has plenty of mouse bile for you.”