Midnight

  Brambleclaw jumped and looked around. His eyes narrowed into a furious glare as he recognised the cat with smoky grey-black fur, lean limbs, and small, neat head. “You!” he spat.

  Standing a couple of fox-lengths away was the WindClan apprentice Crowpaw, who had trespassed on ThunderClan territory and stolen a vole.

  “Yes, me,” he retorted, his fur bristling as if at any moment he might spring and finish off the fight.

  Tawnypelt pricked her ears. “This is a WindClan cat, right?” She looked Crowpaw up and down dismissively. “Undersized specimen, isn’t he?”

  “He’s an apprentice,” Brambleclaw explained, as Crowpaw drew his lips back in a snarl. “His name’s Crowpaw.”

  He glanced at Squirrelpaw, willing her to keep silent about the incident with the vole. He wanted WindClan brought to justice over the prey stealing, but properly, at a Gathering, not by provoking a fight here. After all, what they were doing here was already a long way outside the warrior code. Squirrelpaw twitched the tip of her tail, but to Brambleclaw’s relief she said nothing.

  “You had the dream too?” Feathertail asked; Brambleclaw saw the anxiety beginning to fade from her blue eyes, as if she were drawing courage from a growing certainty that the dreams were true.

  Crowpaw gave her a curt nod. “I spoke with our old deputy, Deadfoot,” he meowed. “He told me to meet three other cats at the new moon.”

  “Then that’s one cat from each Clan,” replied Feathertail. “We’re all here.”

  “Now we just have to wait for midnight,” Brambleclaw added.

  “Do you know what this is about?” Crowpaw turned his back on Brambleclaw and appealed directly to Feathertail.

  “If it were me,” Squirrelpaw meowed before Feathertail could reply, “I’d be a bit less quick to believe in these dreams. If there was really trouble on its way, do you think StarClan would come to you first, before the Clan leaders or medicine cats?”

  “Then how do you explain it?” Brambleclaw asked, all the more defensive because he had felt exactly the same doubts that Squirrelpaw was voicing now. “Why else would we all have had the same dream?”

  “Maybe you’ve all been stuffing yourselves with too much fresh-kill?” Squirrelpaw suggested.

  Crowpaw whipped around with an angry hiss. “Who asked you, anyway?” he demanded.

  “I can say what I like,” Squirrelpaw shot back at him. “I don’t need your permission. You’re not even a warrior.”

  “Nor are you,” the grey-black cat snapped. “What are you doing here, anyway? You didn’t have the dream. No cat wants you here.”

  Brambleclaw opened his jaws to defend Squirrelpaw. Even though he had been annoyed with her for following him, it was no business of Crowpaw’s to tell her what to do. Then he realised that Squirrelpaw wouldn’t thank him; with her ready tongue she was quite capable of defending herself.

  “I don’t see them falling over themselves to welcome you, either,” she growled.

  Crowpaw spat, his ears flattened and his eyes glaring fury.

  “There’s no need to get angry,” Feathertail began.

  The small black cat ignored her. Lashing his tail from side to side, he sprang at Squirrelpaw. An instant later Bramble claw leaped too, barrelling into him and rolling him over before his claws could score down her flank.

  “Back off,” he hissed, pinning Crowpaw down with a paw on his neck. He could hardly believe that the WindClan apprentice would start a fight now, when they were waiting for a message from StarClan, and linked in the prophecy through their dreams. If StarClan had really chosen them for a mysterious destiny, they would surely not fulfil it by shedding one another’s blood.

  The light of battle died from Crowpaw’s eyes, though he still looked furious. Brambleclaw let him get up; he turned his back and started to groom his ruffled fur.

  “Thanks for nothing!” Brambleclaw was hardly surprised to see that Squirrelpaw was glaring at him with just as much hostility as Crowpaw. “I can fight my own battles.”

  Brambleclaw let out a hiss of exasperation. “You can’t start fighting here. There are more important things to think about. And if these dreams are true, then StarClan wants the Clans to work together.”

  He glanced around the clearing, half hoping that a cat from StarClan would appear to tell them what they were supposed to be doing, before a fight broke out that he couldn’t stop. But Silverpelt shone on a clearing empty of any cats but themselves. He could smell nothing but the ordinary night scents of growing plants and distant prey, and hear nothing but the sigh of wind through the branches of the oaks.

  “It must be after midnight now,” Tawnypelt meowed. “I don’t think StarClan are coming.”

  Feathertail turned to look all around the clearing, her blue eyes once more wide with anxiety. “But they have to come! Why did we all have the same dream, if it wasn’t true?”

  “Then why is nothing happening?” Tawnypelt challenged her. “Here we are, meeting at the new moon, just as StarClan told us. We can’t do any more.”

  “We were fools to come.” Crowpaw gave them all another unfriendly stare. “The dreams meant nothing. There’s no prophecy, no danger—and even if there were, the warrior code should be enough to protect the forest.” He began to stalk across the clearing to the slope on the WindClan side, and his last words were flung over his shoulder. “I’m going back to camp.”

  “Good riddance!” Squirrelpaw yowled after him.

  He ignored her, and a moment later had disappeared into the bushes.

  “Tawnypelt’s right. Nothing is going to happen,” Stormfur meowed. “We might as well go too. Come on, Feathertail.”

  “Just a minute,” mewed Brambleclaw. “Maybe we got it wrong—maybe StarClan was angry because of the fighting. We can’t just pretend that nothing has happened, that none of us had those dreams. We ought to decide what we’re going to do next.”

  “What can we do?” Tawnypelt asked. She flicked her tail toward Squirrelpaw. “Maybe she’s right. Why would StarClan choose us and not our leaders?”

  “I don’t know, but I think they have chosen us,” Feathertail meowed gently. “But somehow we haven’t understood properly. Maybe they’ll send us all another dream to explain.”

  “Maybe.” Her brother didn’t sound convinced.

  “Let’s all try to come to the next Gathering,” Brambleclaw suggested. “There might be another sign by then.”

  “Crowpaw won’t know to meet us there,” Feathertail murmured, glancing at the spot in the bushes where the WindClan apprentice had vanished.

  “No loss,” Stormfur remarked, but at his sister’s anxious look he added, “We can keep an eye open for him when he comes to the river to drink. If we see him we’ll pass the message on.”

  “All right, that’s decided,” meowed Tawnypelt. “We meet at the Gathering.”

  “And what do we tell our Clans?” Stormfur asked. “It’s against the warrior code to hide things from them.”

  “StarClan never said we had to keep the dream secret,” Tawnypelt put in.

  “I know, but . . .” Feathertail hesitated and then went on, “I just feel it’s wrong to talk about it.”

  Brambleclaw knew Stormfur and Tawnypelt were right; he was already feeling guilty that he had said nothing about his dream to Firestar and Cinderpelt. At the same time he shared Feathertail’s instinct to keep silent.

  “I’m not sure,” he meowed. “Suppose our leaders forbade us to meet again? We could end up having to choose between obeying them or obeying StarClan.” Aware of uneasy glances from the others, he went on earnestly; “We don’t know enough to tell them. Suppose we wait until the next Gathering, at least. We might have other signs by then that will explain it all to us.”

  Feathertail agreed at once, obviously relieved, and after a pause Stormfur gave a small, reluctant nod.

  “But only until the next Gathering,” Tawnypelt meowed. “If we haven’t found out any more by then, I’ll have to tell Bl
ackstar.” She gave a huge stretch, her back arched and her forepaws extended. “Right, I’m off.”

  Brambleclaw touched noses with her in farewell, breathing in her familiar scent. “It must mean something that we were both chosen—brother and sister,” he murmured.

  “Maybe.” Tawnypelt’s green eyes were unconvinced. “The other cats aren’t kin, though.” Her tongue rasped once over Brambleclaw’s ear in a rare gesture of affection. “StarClan willing, I’ll see you at the Gathering.”

  Brambleclaw watched her bound across the clearing, before turning to Squirrelpaw. “Come on,” he meowed. “I’ve things I want to say to you.”

  Squirrelpaw shrugged and padded away from him, towards ThunderClan territory.

  Saying good night to Feathertail and Stormfur, Bramble claw headed up the slope after her. When he emerged from the hollow a hot, clammy breeze was blowing into his face, ruffling his fur and turning back the leaves on the trees. Clouds had begun to mass above his head, cutting off the light of Silverpelt. The forest was silent and the air felt heavier than ever. Brambleclaw guessed that the storm was on its way at last.

  As he began trotting down toward the stream, Squirrel paw paused to wait for him. Her fur was relaxed on her spine now, and her green eyes shone.

  “That was exciting!” she exclaimed. “Brambleclaw, you have to let me come with you to the next meeting, please! I never thought I’d be part of a prophecy from StarClan.”

  “You’re not part of it,” Brambleclaw meowed sternly. “StarClan didn’t send you the dream.”

  “But I know about it, don’t I? If StarClan didn’t want me involved, they would have kept me away from Fourtrees somehow.” Squirrelpaw faced him, forcing him to halt, and gazed at him with pleading eyes. “I could help. I’d do everything you told me.”

  Brambleclaw couldn’t keep back a puff of laughter. “And hedgehogs might fly.”

  “No, I will, I promise.” Her green eyes narrowed. “And I wouldn’t tell any cat. You can trust me on that, at least.”

  For a few heartbeats Brambleclaw returned her gaze. He knew that if she told Firestar what had happened he would be in deep trouble. Her silence must be worth something.

  “OK,” he agreed at last. “I’ll let you know if anything else happens, but only if you keep your mouth shut.”

  Squirrelpaw’s tail went straight up and her eyes blazed with delight. “Thank you, Brambleclaw!”

  Brambleclaw sighed. Somehow he could sense that he would be in even deeper trouble because of the bargain he had just made. He followed Squirrelpaw into the shadows that lay thickly under the trees, feeling a shiver of fear at the thought of what might be watching them, unseen. But the forest around him was no darker or more threatening than the half-offered prophecy. If the trouble that was coming to the forest was as serious as Bluestar had said, then Brambleclaw was in great danger of making a fatal mistake simply because he did not know enough.

  CHAPTER 6

  All night Leafpaw’s sleep had been disturbed by strange, vivid dreams. At first she thought she was following a scent trail toward Fourtrees, running through the forest along the invisible path. Then the dream changed and she felt the fur on her neck and shoulders rise as if she confronted an enemy, with battle only a heartbeat away. The threat of danger faded, but now she grew colder and colder, until she jerked awake to find the clump of ferns where she slept heavy with raindrops, and rain drumming softly on the forest all around her.

  Scrambling to her paws, she dashed across the small, fern-enclosed clearing and took shelter just inside Cinderpelt’s den. The medicine cat was sleeping soundly in her mossy nest beside the back wall and did not move when Leafpaw came in, shaking water from her pelt.

  The young apprentice blinked and yawned as she gazed out into the clearing. Above her head she could just make out the black outlines of trees against a sky that was growing grey with the first light of dawn. Part of her rejoiced that the long, dry spell was coming to an end with this downpour that the forest needed so badly. The rest of her could not help feeling troubled about what her dreams might mean. Was StarClan sending her a sign? Or had she somehow picked up thoughts from Squirrelpaw? This would not be the first time she had known what her sister was doing without being told.

  Leafpaw let out a long sigh. Little as she liked the idea, she was almost convinced that Squirrelpaw must have slipped out of camp to hunt by night, sending Leafpaw the images of running through the forest. There was no way she had been on an official patrol. What sort of trouble would Squirrelpaw be in if Firestar found out?

  As Leafpaw crouched there, she realised that the rain was easing off and the clouds were turning pale yellow and thinning out. With a last glance at the sleeping Cinderpelt she slipped outside again, ignoring the water that soaked her fur as she pushed through the fern tunnel into the main clearing. Perhaps if she could find Squirrelpaw quickly, she could help her hide whatever she had been up to.

  But when she reached the clearing there was no sign of her sister. The other three apprentices had emerged from their den and were lapping eagerly at a shallow puddle that had pooled on the sun-scorched earth. Ferncloud’s three kits crept out of the nursery, their eyes huge as they examined this strange new water that had fallen from the sky. Ferncloud looked on with pride in her eyes as they dabbed at it, squealing with excitement as shining drops spun away from their paws.

  Leafpaw watched them for a moment, then whirled around when she saw movement at the mouth of the gorse tunnel. An early hunting patrol, she wondered, caught out by the rain? Or could it be Squirrelpaw, returning after her illicit outing?

  Then she realised that the newcomer did not have ThunderClan scent. She drew breath to yowl a warning to the Clan before she recognised the sleek black pelt: it was Ravenpaw, who had once been a ThunderClan apprentice but now lived as a loner in a Twoleg barn on the edge of WindClan territory. Leafpaw had met him once before, on her journey to Highstones with Cinderpelt. Living so close to Twolegs, Ravenpaw hunted mainly by night and was perfectly comfortable with travelling through the forest in pitch dark. He might be just the cat to tell Leafpaw if there had been a ThunderClan apprentice hunting in the forest before dawn.

  The visitor crossed the clearing slowly, skirting the deepest puddles and delicately picking up his paws to shake off the water. “Hi—it’s Leafpaw, isn’t it?” Ravenpaw meowed, pricking his ears toward her. “That was some storm! I’d have been soaked through if I hadn’t managed to shelter in a hollow tree. Still, the forest needs the rain.”

  Leafpaw returned his greeting politely. She was trying to find the right words to ask him if he had seen Squirrelpaw on his way to the camp, when a cheerful yowl interrupted her. “Hey, Ravenpaw!”

  Whitepaw and Shrewpaw were bounding across the clearing toward them. Ferncloud’s kits abandoned their raindrop games and scuttled after them.

  The biggest of the three kits skidded to a halt in front of Ravenpaw and took an enormous sniff. “New cat,” she growled. “New scent.”

  The loner dipped his head in greeting, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth in amusement.

  “Hollykit, this is Ravenpaw,” Shrewpaw told her. “He lives on a Twoleg farm, and feasts on more mice than you three have seen in your life.”

  Hollykit’s amber eyes grew huge. “Every day?”

  “That’s right,” Whitepaw put in solemnly. “Every day.”

  “I want to go there,” the little grey kit mewed. “Can we? Now?”

  “When you’re bigger, Birchkit,” Ferncloud promised, coming up to join them. “Welcome, Ravenpaw. It’s good to—Hollykit! Larchkit! Stop that at once!”

  The two brown tabby kits had pounced on Ravenpaw’s twitching tail, and were batting at it with outstretched paws. Ravenpaw winced. “Don’t do that, little kits,” he scolded gently. “It’s my tail, not a mouse.”

  “Ravenpaw, I’m sorry,” meowed Ferncloud. “They haven’t learned how to behave properly yet.”

  “Don’t worry
, Ferncloud,” Ravenpaw replied, though he drew his tail closely against his side, out of harm’s way. “Kits will be kits.”

  “And these particular kits have been out for long enough.” Ferncloud swished her tail around to gather the three kits together and herded them back toward the nursery. “Say goodbye to Ravenpaw now.”

  The kits mewed goodbye and scampered off.

  “Can we do anything for you, Ravenpaw?” Whitepaw asked politely. “Would you like some fresh-kill?”

  “No, I ate before I left home, thank you,” the black cat replied. “I’ve come to see Firestar. Is he around?”

  “I think he’s in his den,” Shrewpaw told him. “Shall I take you there?”

  “No, I will,” meowed Leafpaw. She was getting increasingly anxious to ask the loner if he had seen Squirrelpaw on his journey through the forest.

  Just then Thornclaw, Shrewpaw’s mentor, emerged from the warriors’ den. Leafpaw twitched her ears toward him. “Er . . . is your mentor looking for you?” she asked Shrewpaw.

  As she spoke, Thornclaw called to Shrewpaw, and the apprentice dashed off with a quick word of farewell. Whitepaw also meowed her goodbyes, and went over to join Brackenfur at the fresh-kill pile.

  Suddenly the thorny branches that formed the gorse tunnel trembled, and relief flooded over Leafpaw as she watched Squirrelpaw emerge, dragging a rabbit behind her through the mud. Leafpaw had taken a couple of paces towards her before she remembered the Clan’s visitor, and turned awkwardly back to him.

  “That’s your sister, isn’t it?” Ravenpaw meowed. “Go and talk to her if you want. I can find my own way to Firestar’s den.”

  Released, Leafpaw bounded towards her sister, who was heading for the fern tunnel. Catching sight of her, Squirrelpaw stopped to wait, dropping the rabbit at her paws; its fur was plastered with mud from being dragged across the clearing, and rain had flattened Squirrelpaw’s own pelt against her flanks, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Not bad, is it?” she announced, nodding toward her prey. “It’s for you and Cinderpelt.”