Dawn

  “I’m fine,” Brackenfur meowed, pushing himself to his paws.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sorreltail promised.

  Leafpaw padded over and touched her sister’s flank with her nose. “Surely it can’t get any worse?” she murmured.

  Squirrelpaw stared back wordlessly, her eyes clouded with doubt. In desperation Leafpaw turned her gaze towards the sky, praying for the protection of StarClan, wondering if her prayer would reach their ancestors through the snow-laden clouds.

  As if in reply, the first freezing flakes began to fall.

  CHAPTER 22

  Squirrelpaw glimpsed movement on the ledge above. She stopped, her paws sinking into the banked snow, and glanced up. A falcon was feasting on a shrew a few tail-lengths up the rocky outcrop. Squirrelpaw knew her ginger pelt must stand out like a sunset in a pale sky, and she stood motionless, hoping that the falcon hadn’t noticed her.

  The snow felt soothing against her raw pads. She wondered if she had the power to leap up the short distance and catch the falcon. Probably not. The past few days had sapped her strength until she almost couldn’t be bothered to hunt at all.

  The falcon flattened the shrew against the rock and stooped to pull the flesh from it. Squirrelpaw felt a wrench of envy as hunger clawed at her belly. Slow as melting ice, she prowled forwards, praying the thickly falling snow would camouflage her pelt.

  She had to catch some prey. The cold would start killing cats faster than any eagle if the Clans grew any hungrier. Despite their bold promises to Tallpoppy, the shock of losing Smokepaw and then nearly losing Marshkit had shaken the confidence of even the strongest warriors. Squirrelpaw felt a flood of regret so strong it stopped her in her tracks. She had helped to lead the Clans to their death. She was not even sure she would be able to find her way back to them if she caught the falcon. She knew only that they were somewhere near, huddled in the snow, praying to StarClan for deliverance.

  If only she could be sure they had reached the place where the Tribe hunted, then at least they might get help from the cats they had met before. Stormfur had taken to ranging out at night, among the snowy crags. He alone seemed comfortable in this barren territory. She knew he was searching for Brook, or any sign of the Tribe, but he had found nothing so far. The Tribe had no need for borders or scent markers. No other cat wanted their unforgiving hunting grounds.

  The falcon ruffled its feathers, shaking off some snow, and brought Squirrelpaw’s wandering thoughts back to the hunt. She tensed her tired muscles and prepared to leap.

  Suddenly a flash of fur above her made her draw back. Three lean, mud-streaked cats hurled themselves from the rocks above the falcon. One snared the falcon in its long claws, while the other two bundled Squirrelpaw backwards, knocking the breath from her. She felt strong paws pinning her under the snow and struggled, but they were too strong for her, and after a few terrified moments she lay still, her breath hoarse and ragged.

  “Squirrelpaw?”

  She heard a familiar voice growl her name and felt paws tug her out of the snow. She blinked cold flakes of ice from her eyes and saw Talon staring at her in undisguised surprise. Two more cave-guards stood behind him, wide-eyed with astonishment.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  As Squirrelpaw tried to gather her confused thoughts, she recognised one of the cave-guards. It was Jag, one of the outcasts who had returned to save their Tribemates from Sharptooth. Knowing two of the cats who stood in front of her made her feel a little better. “We’ve left the forest,” she explained. “We’re travelling over the mountains.”

  Talon narrowed his eyes. “Again?”

  “We’re all going this time.”

  “All?”

  “The four Clans,” Squirrelpaw mewed. “We couldn’t stay in the forest any longer. There was too much destruction. But we never though the journey would be this hard! Smokepaw fell into a ravine, and then an eagle tried to carry off Marshkit . . .” She trailed off breathlessly.

  “Kits?” Talon demanded. “Out here? Are you mad? You must bring all of these cats to the Cave of Rushing Water and rest. Where did you leave them?”

  “We sheltered under some rocks. There was a tree jutting out above them like a giant claw.”

  Talon glanced at the cave-guards. “Tree-rock,” he meowed. “Go there.”

  The cave-guards bounded away across the snowdrift, their ears flattened against the falling snow.

  “Let’s find these Clans of yours before they freeze to death,” Talon meowed, picking up the still-warm falcon in his jaws.

  Squirrelpaw struggled to keep up with the tom as he raced after the guards.

  “They’ll be safe once we get them to the Cave of Rushing Water,” Talon called over his shoulder. Hope gave Squirrelpaw new strength, and she scrambled on until she was clear of the drift and pounding after him along a rock ledge that had been shielded from the snow by a sharp overhang. Her paws sent stones showering down the steep slope, but she kept running.

  “Eagle!” The cave-guards skidded to a halt where the ledge came to an abrupt end. Looking along the side of the valley, Squirrelpaw saw the rocky outcrop where she had left the Clans. Their pelts looked like dark smudges through the driving snow. Above them, Squirrelpaw recognised the predatory circling motion of the eagle and felt her belly twist in dread.

  The cave-guards sank back on to their haunches, then sprang over the deep cleft that lay between them and the Clan cats. Talon followed, leaping easily over the gap even though he was carrying the dead falcon.

  Squirrelpaw looked across the divide, then down at the long drop beneath her. Rocks sharp as teeth pierced the snow that pooled in the chasm beneath. Summoning up every last bit of her strength, she leaped towards the rocky ledge where Talon waited. Reaching out desperately with her forepaws, she grasped the ledge, her hind legs churning empty air. Talon lunged forwards, and she felt his teeth sink into her scruff as he pulled her up to safety.

  The moment she felt solid ground beneath her paws, Squirrelpaw raced after the Tribe cats. Above them, the eagle folded its wings and started to drop towards the ground.

  “Birchkit!” Ferncloud’s shriek tore through the air. Russetfur leaped forwards to scoop up the kit and thrust him and his mother into the shadows of the rock. Brambleclaw herded Dawnflower and her kits after them. Hawkfrost leaped to Onewhisker’s side, and together they shielded Tallstar from the attack.

  As the eagle swooped down, its talons raking the air, the cave-guards plunged among the Clans. Jag swiped at the bird’s wing, and another cave-guard lunged at it, clawing a feather from its tail. The air thrummed with the beating of the great bird’s wings as it swooped upwards, screeching, into the blizzard.

  The Clan cats crept out from the shelter of the rock and stared in amazement at their rescuers. They looked scrawny and miserable and bedraggled, and Squirrelpaw was suddenly afraid that the Tribe cats would tell them to give up trying to cross the mountains and go back to wait for warmer weather before restarting their journey.

  Brambleclaw bounded over, flicking lumps of snow up from his paws. “Talon! Jag!” He touched noses happily with each cave-guard.

  Crowpaw padded up and flicked his tail against Talon’s flank. “Great timing,” he mewed.

  “This is Talon,” Squirrelpaw announced to the Clans. “And Jag and . . .”

  “I’m Night of No Stars,” the third cave-guard meowed. Her voice carried the strange accent Squirrelpaw had forgotten; it was good to hear it again.

  Talon looked around. “Where is Stormfur?”

  “He went hunting,” Tawnypelt explained.

  Firestar shouldered his way to the front. “Are you able to help us? The kits are freezing,” he meowed. “One is close to death.”

  “Let me see,” ordered Talon.

  “Here!” Leafpaw called from beneath the overhang where Tallpoppy was licking her limp kit. Instantly Night picked the kit up in her jaws and placed it on Tallpoppy’s flank.

/>   “Keep it off the ground,” the Tribe she-cat growled. “The rock will suck the warmth from him. And don’t lick. The wet will make him colder.” She began to rub the kit roughly with her forepaws, ruffling its damp fur until the kit began to stir. “Keep rubbing,” she told Leafpaw. “Remember, don’t lick.”

  The ShadowClan queen stared at Night with eyes brimming with emotion, but the Tribe cat only nodded curtly and directed a question at Firestar.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked.

  “Too long,” Squirrelpaw murmured. She felt the weakness of hunger returning now the danger had passed. The cold was making her sleepy.

  “We’ll take you all back to the cave,” Talon offered. “You can get warm and eat there.”

  “We have to keep going.” Blackstar’s eyes glittered. “We should leave the mountains before the snow gets any worse.”

  “You will die if you do not come with us,” Talon meowed.

  Blackstar flattened his ears.

  Firestar turned his gaze on the ShadowClan leader. “The kits and elders will never make it,” he mewed quietly.

  “And Tallstar needs to rest,” Onewhisker called out. The WindClan leader looked as tired and worn as any of the elders.

  “We all need to rest,” Leopardstar put in.

  “But Crowpaw has told us there’s moorland just beyond the mountains,” Mudclaw argued. “We should head for that.”

  Blackstar turned to Littlecloud. “What do you think?”

  “The elders don’t have the strength to go on,” the medicine cat mewed. “And the kits will freeze without food.”

  “This one will be dead by sundown if she doesn’t get some shelter,” Leafpaw called. She was rubbing Marshkit, watched closely by his mother, Tallpoppy.

  “Very well.” Blackstar stared at Talon. “We’ll come with you.”

  Talon glanced at Mudclaw. Squirrelpaw wondered if he thought Mudclaw was one of the Clan leaders, since Tallstar was too frail to speak on behalf of the WindClan cats.

  “We’ll come too,” Mudclaw muttered.

  Talon dipped his head respectfully. “Good.”

  Tallpoppy picked up her kit by the scruff of her neck. Marshkit squirmed and gave a squeak of protest. “It’s all right, little one,” his mother murmured. “You’ll be safe soon.”

  The others began to stir, hauling themselves to their paws as they prepared to follow the Tribe cats to the cave.

  Suddenly a dark shape raced from a shadowy gully near the overhang.

  “Brambleclaw! I’ve scented the Tribe!” It was Stormfur. He paused, staring around the surprised faces. Then he recognised Talon. “You’re here!”

  “We found Squirrelpaw,” Talon explained.

  Stormfur padded forwards and touched the cave-guard’s flank with his nose. “How’s Brook?” he asked.

  “She’s fine,” Talon replied. “We’d better get on.” He glanced at Jag and Night. “I’ll lead the way; you two bring up the rear.”

  Squirrelpaw felt exhaustion dragging at her paws as she helped to guide the Clans along the unseen paths that led towards the waterfall. She paused only when they reached the cleft in the mountain where the water thundered over the rocks and pounded, frothing, into the deep pool below. Brambleclaw, Crowpaw, Stormfur, and Tawnypelt stopped beside her.

  “We’re back,” Squirrelpaw breathed.

  Stormfur glanced at the mound of earth that marked his sister’s resting place. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever see this place again,” he murmured.

  The Clans padded past them, following Talon on to the narrow ledge that led behind the wall of water.

  “Come on,” Stormfur mewed. “The Clans will need us. They’ve never met the Tribe before.” He hurried forwards, Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, and Tawnypelt following. Crowpaw stayed behind, staring at Feathertail’s grave.

  The cats filed slowly behind the waterfall, their fur darkening as the spray soaked their pelts. Stormfur, Brambleclaw, and Tawnypelt weaved among them. Squirrelpaw saw Ashfur stop at the edge of the thundering sheet of water. “We have to go behind there?”

  Behind the waterfall, the light wavered on the rock, which glittered and dripped with moisture. “Go on,” Squirrelpaw urged Ashfur. “It’s warm inside; I promise.”

  The ThunderClan warrior stepped inside, and Squirrelpaw followed him. Half-forgotten scents washed over her, and, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw the Tribe staring at the visitors in astonishment.

  One young she-cat, her brown tabby fur just visible beneath the streaks of mud that all Tribe cats wore, was looking around with something close to excitement, and even joy. It was Brook Where Small Fish Swim, the prey-hunter who had befriended the Clan cats on their last visit to the cave. Squirrelpaw saw her desperately searching the sea of faces, and knew she was looking for only one cat.

  Squirrelpaw felt fur brush against hers as Stormfur bounded past. He headed straight for Brook, and the two cats touched noses with such tenderness that Squirrelpaw felt a rush of pity. It was all too clear that Stormfur had more heartbreak ahead of him, when the time came to leave the Tribe she-cat for a second time.

  CHAPTER 23

  Leafpaw padded into the cave, blinking at the gloom. The roar of the waterfall made the air tremble, and the light filtering through the sheet of tumbling water quivered on the rocky walls. A stream sparkled like frost as it trickled down the mossy rocks and ran into a pool in the cave floor. Two tunnels led away into darkness, one at each end of the back wall, and narrow claws of stone hung down from the shadowy roof far above.

  Leafpaw felt the Tribe cats staring at her, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. She padded over to Squirrelpaw. “They don’t seem frightened of us.”

  Squirrelpaw blinked. “Why should they be? We hardly look threatening, as thin as we are. And besides, there are no other cats around here. Now that Sharptooth is dead, the only enemies the Tribe knows are eagles.”

  “I’d forgotten about Sharptooth,” Leafpaw mewed. “All this would have been so much worse if he were still prowling the mountains.”

  “Yes,” Squirrelpaw agreed, her gaze softening. “When Feathertail died, she did more than save the Tribe. She helped to protect us, too.”

  As her eyes adjusted, Leafpaw began to pick out individual shapes, some lithe and sleek, others well muscled and broad shouldered. Yet they were all smaller than the Clan cats—even WindClan—leaner, with broad heads and slender necks.

  The kits playing outside the entrance to one of the tunnels stopped and gazed at the Clan cats as they filed into the cave, their eyes wide and curious. A grey-and-white queen padded over to Leafpaw and sniffed her pelt.

  “This is Wing,” Squirrelpaw explained. “She looked after Tawnypelt last time we were here, when she was sick from a rat bite.”

  The Tribe queen dipped her head. “Stoneteller said you were coming,” she meowed. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting told him that old friends would return and bring new friends with them.”

  Despite her tiredness and hunger, Leafpaw’s fur prickled with curiosity. “How did he know?” she whispered to Squirrelpaw.

  “Stoneteller shares with the Tribe’s ancestors like you do with StarClan,” Squirrelpaw replied quietly.

  Talon padded over. “There’s caught-prey here,” he offered, flicking his tail towards a pile of fresh-kill.

  Leafpaw blinked. “Surely there can’t be enough to share with us all?”

  “Eat.” Talon flicked his tail once more to the pile of fresh-kill. “Crag is organising a hunt. There will soon be enough.”

  The smell of rabbit rising from the fresh-kill pile made Leafpaw’s stomach growl, but she couldn’t eat until she knew the rest of the Clan was all right. Dipping her head respectfully, she left Squirrelpaw with her mountain friends and found Cinderpelt among the other medicine cats gathered near the entrance.

  “A cat called Crag said we can use the nests over there.” Cinderpelt gestured to a cluster of shallow scoops in the earth floor, lined
with moss and feathers.

  “Will there be enough room?” Littlecloud wondered.

  “The coldest and weakest can use the nests,” Barkface suggested. “The rest must sleep where they can find space. At least we’re safe from the snow and wind in here.”

  “And there’s food.” Leafpaw nodded towards the pile of fresh-kill. Some of the Tribe cats were already taking pieces of prey and bringing them over to the Clans. Talon dropped a rabbit at Mudclaw’s paws. The WindClan deputy looked at it with hungry eyes and nodded a curt thanks to the cave-guard before taking the rabbit to his queens and apprentices.

  “We should get the kits into nests to warm up,” Mothwing mewed.

  Leafpaw joined the other medicine cats as they began to usher the youngest cats and their mothers towards the soft hollows in the cave floor. As she helped to settle Tallpoppy and her kits into a nest, a long-bodied Tribe tom padded towards her. His fur was so streaked with mud she could not make out the colour of his pelt. Only the white whiskers around his muzzle betrayed his age.

  “Who among you is healer?” he asked.

  Startled, Leafpaw looked back at him. Squirrelpaw had told her that the same cat was both healer and leader among the Tribe. Which did he wish to meet? She glanced towards Cinderpelt, but she was busy examining Dawnflower’s kits.

  “I’ll take you to meet Firestar,” she decided. She led him to where her father stood in quiet discussion with the other Clan leaders.

  “We must not stay long,” Blackstar was muttering. “The snows will only get worse.” He looked around as Leafpaw approached.

  “This is Stoneteller.” Leafpaw dipped her head and backed away.

  “You are healer?” Stoneteller asked Firestar.

  “I’m leader of ThunderClan,” he replied. “Cinderpelt is our Clan healer.” He flicked his tail towards Cinderpelt, who was watching them with interest from the other side of the cave. “This is Blackstar, Leopardstar, and Tallstar.” Firestar nodded to the three leaders in turn.