With a quick plea to StarClan for guidance, Leafpaw closed her eyes and pressed her nose against the stone. Cold instantly seized her like a claw, the hard surface of the cave floor vanished from beneath her, and she felt as though she were floating in darkness.
Squirrelpaw! Squirrelpaw, can you hear me? she called silently. She was desperate to make sure that her sister was still alive and safe, and more than that: If the chosen cats had discovered the answer to the trouble that had come upon the forest, then seeking out Squirrelpaw might give her some hope that she could share with the others.
But tonight something seemed to be blocking her thoughts. The silence was broken by the sound of rushing water, loud as thunder, and then the darkness shifted to show her a waterfall, crashing endlessly down into a pool below. Before Leafpaw could properly understand what she was seeing, clouds swirled over it. Out of them came a terrible snarling, and she caught a glimpse of sharp fangs. She sensed the presence of warrior ancestors and reached out for the comforting presence of StarClan. But she caught only a flickering vision of lean, prowling cats, their fur streaked with mud and blood. Their eyes glared with desperation, as if they stared at some terrible sight that was hidden from Leafpaw. She thought she cried out to them, but they did not answer, and she was not even sure that they were aware of her.
A wind howled around her, sweeping all the visions away, and Leafpaw woke up with a jolt. She blinked in confusion, staring around the cavern that was dark now except for the faint glitter of Silverpelt. In the dim light she could just make out a cat crouched beside her, a beautiful tortoiseshell with a white chest and white paws. The sweet scent of herbs clung about her fur.
For a heartbeat Leafpaw mistook the cat for Sorreltail, until she remembered that her friend was back in the ThunderClan camp. And where were Mothwing and the medicine cats? Leafpaw realised that except for herself and the strange tortoiseshell, the cavern was empty.
The tortoiseshell cat opened her eyes and turned to blink at Leafpaw. “Greetings,” she mewed softly. “Do not be anxious for your sister or your Clan. A time of great trouble has come, but the Clans are strong and have the courage to meet it.”
Leafpaw froze. She had woken up in another dream. Her eyes widened as she realised who the tortoiseshell cat must be. She had heard many stories of the medicine cat who had befriended her father when he first came to ThunderClan, and guided him in dreams on his path to becoming leader.
“Are you . . . are you Spottedleaf?” she meowed.
The tortoiseshell cat bowed her head. “I am. I see that Firestar has told you about me.”
“Yes.” Leafpaw stared curiously at the she-cat. “He told me how much you helped him.”
“I loved him as well as any cat,” Spottedleaf purred. “Maybe even more than I should have done, as a medicine cat. If StarClan had not chosen me to walk their path, things might have been different.” Her eyes narrowed with affection. “I never had kits of my own, Leafpaw, but I cannot say how happy it makes me that Firestar’s daughter will be following the path of a medicine cat. I know that StarClan has great things in store for you.”
Leafpaw swallowed. “May I ask you something?” she meowed hesitantly.
“Of course.”
“Can you see Squirrelpaw? Is she all right?”
There was a long pause. “I cannot see her,” Spottedleaf replied at last, “but I know where she is. She is safe, and on her way home to you.”
“Why can’t you see her, if you know where she is?” Leafpaw challenged.
Spottedleaf’s gaze shone with gentleness and compassion. “Squirrelpaw is in the paws of different warrior ancestors now.”
“What do you mean?” Leafpaw remembered the fearsome, blood-streaked cats she had sensed when she tried to make contact with Squirrelpaw. In her dream, her eyes flew wide and she sprang to her paws. “Whose warrior ancestors are these? There can’t be more than one StarClan!”
Spottedleaf laughed softly. “The world is wide, dear young one. There are other cats who are guided by other spirits. There is always more to learn.”
Leafpaw’s head whirled. She stammered, “I thought—”
“StarClan does not control the wind or the rain, do they?” Spottedleaf prompted gently. “They do not command the sun to rise or the moon to wax and wane. Do not fear, little one,” she went on. “From now on, wherever you walk, I will walk with you . . .”
Her voice began to fade; her fur paled and her shape seemed to melt into the darkness. For a heartbeat longer, Leafpaw could see her white front shining like a star and her glowing eyes. Then she was blinking awake, emerging from her dream into the cavern where Mothwing and the medicine cats were stirring around her.
Is it true? she wondered, too dazed to speak out loud. Are Squirrelpaw and the others in the paws of another Clan? And are there really powers other than StarClan’s—and does that mean that StarClan won’t be able to save the forest after all?
As she staggered to her paws, she could still catch a trace of Spottedleaf’s sweet scent.
CHAPTER 14
Feathertail gazed back helplessly at the tunnel entrance as the cave-guards thrust her out of the tunnel and back into the main cave. She felt unseen claws tearing into her heart with every step she took away from her brother.
What did Stoneteller mean, that Stormfur was the promised cat who would save the Tribe from Sharptooth? True, her brother was a strong and brave warrior, more skilled at fighting than any of the other cats on this journey. But if Sharptooth was as huge and terrible as the Tribe cats said, what could even the bravest warrior do?
“Please,” she meowed to one of the cave-guards, a huge mud-coloured tabby whose name was Scree Beneath Winter Sky, “you can’t keep Stormfur here. He belongs with us.”
There was sympathy in the Tribe cat’s eyes, but he still shook his head. “No. He is the cat sent here by the Tribe of Endless Hunting. They told us a silver cat would come.”
“But—”
“Don’t try to argue with them,” Crowpaw growled into Feathertail’s ear. “There’s no point. If we have to fight to get Stormfur out, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Feathertail looked at the WindClan cat’s bristling fur and the fierce courage in his eyes. “We can’t,” she mewed sorrowfully. “There are too many of them.”
“I don’t see why the Tribe is so worried about Sharptooth.” Crowpaw’s voice was scornful. “We haven’t seen a whisker of him since we arrived, so what’s the big deal?”
“Be thankful you haven’t seen him,” Scree meowed.
Crowpaw bared his teeth, but this time he didn’t spring at the guard, just turned away and touched his nose to Feathertail’s muzzle. He would have fought the whole of StarClan for her, Feathertail knew that, but he had to see that this time fighting would do no good.
The cave-guards herded the Clan cats across the cave until they reached their sleeping hollows.
“What’s going on?” Brambleclaw mewed in surprise. “Aren’t you throwing us out?”
“Into the night?” The mud-coloured guard sounded indignant. “We’re not cruel. It’s cold out there and dangerous. You can eat and rest here, and leave in the morning.”
“With Stormfur?” Tawnypelt challenged.
Scree shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”
The cave-guards left them, except for Scree and another who remained on watch a few tail-lengths away. A couple of to-bes trotted over with fresh-kill in their jaws.
“Isn’t it great?” the first of them mewed excitedly, dropping the prey he carried. “No more Sharptooth!”
“Shut up, beetle-brain,” growled his friend, giving him a sharp prod in the flank. “You know Crag told us not to talk to them.”
They retreated quickly, glancing around to make sure no cat had spotted them disobeying orders.
“I’m not eating that!” Crowpaw spat, glaring at the small pile of fresh-kill. “I don’t want anything from the Tribe.”
“Great StarCla
n!” Tawnypelt let out a noisy sigh. “How’s that going to help, you stupid furball? You need your strength twice as much now—to save the forest and to save Stormfur.”
Crowpaw muttered something inaudible, but made no other protest as he dragged a falcon out of the heap.
“Well?” Squirrelpaw demanded when they had divided the rest of the fresh-kill and were crouched close together to eat. “We’re not putting up with this, are we? What are we going to do?”
“There’s not very much we can do,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “There aren’t enough of us to fight the cave-guards.”
“You’re not going to leave him?” Squirrelpaw’s green eyes were wide with disbelief.
Brambleclaw paused; Feathertail could see an agony of indecision in his expression. She began to shiver. Since they left the forest she had come to respect the young warrior’s skills as the unelected leader of their group; if he could not see what to do, then what hope was there for Stormfur?
“We should never have come into these mountains,” growled Tawnypelt. “It’s a hundred times worse than Twolegplace. Midnight mentioned cats in a Tribe, so she must have known about Sharptooth. Why did she send us this way?”
“It must have been a trick all along,” Crowpaw hissed. “I knew we should never have trusted that badger.”
“But why would she trick us?” Brambleclaw objected. “StarClan sent us to her, and she warned us about the Twolegs destroying the forest. If we can’t trust her, then nothing makes sense.”
Feathertail wanted to agree with him, but she suddenly remembered something Purdy had said, when they were discussing which way to go at the edge of the wood. “Purdy tried to tell us not to come through the mountains,” she meowed out loud. “And Midnight wouldn’t let him speak. You’re right. They both knew.”
She looked around and saw her alarm reflected in the faces of her friends.
“Midnight said we would need courage,” Brambleclaw reminded her after a heavy pause. “She said our path was laid out for us. So even if she knew about the Tribe and Sharptooth, there must be a way we can get through this. That makes me think that we must still be following the right path.”
“So you say,” Crowpaw sneered. “I don’t suppose it matters to a ThunderClan warrior if a cat from RiverClan gets left behind.”
“And what does it matter to WindClan?” Squirrelpaw fired up in defense of her Clanmate. “I’d have thought you’d be delighted if Feathertail’s brother weren’t here to keep an eye on you.”
Crowpaw sprang to his paws, hissing a challenge. Squirrelpaw’s green eyes blazed. Horrified, Feathertail forced herself to get up and shoulder Crowpaw away.
“Stop it!” she cried. “Can’t you see you’re making it worse?”
“Feathertail’s right,” meowed Tawnypelt. “What Clan we come from doesn’t matter here. Four of us are half-Clan anyway—have you ever thought StarClan might have chosen us because of that? If we quarrel among ourselves, then we’ll lose everything.”
Squirrelpaw’s gaze seared into Crowpaw for a moment longer before she stepped back and began to tear mouthfuls off a rabbit. Crowpaw looked into Feathertail’s eyes and then ducked his head and muttered, “Sorry.”
“So maybe we can discuss what to do without ripping one another’s fur off?” Tawnypelt meowed tartly. When no cat answered, she went on, “Don’t forget that StarClan didn’t choose Stormfur in the first place. He’s only here because he wouldn’t let Feathertail come on this mission alone.” She paused; her eyes grew troubled as she added, “What . . . what if the Tribe cats are right and he is the promised cat who’s going to save them from Sharptooth?”
“That’s mouse-brained!” Crowpaw exclaimed.
Feathertail was not so sure. Tawnypelt had put words to the fear that she had also felt squirming inside her ever since Stoneteller had first told them about the prophecy. Sure, Stormfur’s fur wasn’t what she would call silver—it was darker than that, more like Greystripe’s—but he had come into the world of the Tribe cats just as their warrior ancestors had promised.
“Does that mean . . .” Her voice shook and she had to start again. “Does that mean we’re going to leave him here?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Brambleclaw sounded determined. “These are not our warrior ancestors. StarClan has nothing to do with this Tribe. But we can’t get him out by fighting, so we’ll have to do it another way. In the morning, when they tell us to leave, we’ll go without trouble. Then we’ll come sneak back and rescue Stormfur.”
The cats were silent for a moment, glancing at one another as if they were weighing the idea. Feathertail began to feel the first faint stirrings of hope. Then she noticed that the cave-guards were watching them suspiciously; had they overheard? She flicked her ears, and the Clan cats, following her gaze, huddled more closely together.
Crowpaw spoke softly. “That’s easy to say.” He sounded doubtful, but he wasn’t sneering anymore. “We’d still have to get into that inner cave, and the whole place is crawling with cave-guards.”
“We could wait until it’s dark,” Tawnypelt suggested.
“And the noise of the waterfall will hide our pawsteps,” Squirrelpaw added optimistically.
Crowpaw still looked uncertain. “I’m not sure—haven’t you noticed the Tribe cats are so used to it that they can hear a kit squeak at the other end of the cave?”
Feathertail knew he was right. She looked around, wondering if the darkness or the crashing of the torrent would help them at all. Moonlight rippled into the cave through the sheet of thundering water, but shadows fell thickly around the walls. Perhaps it would be possible. But however hard it seemed, they had to try. Stormfur was her brother.
“I’m willing to give it a try,” she announced. “You can leave me behind if you want.”
“Well, I for one—” Crowpaw began.
“Don’t try to stop me,” Feathertail interrupted. “I know we have to get StarClan’s message to the Clans before they’re destroyed along with the forest, but they don’t need all of us. I can stay here.”
“Who said I was going to try to stop you?” Crowpaw demanded indignantly, his neck fur bristling. “I was going to say I’ll help, but if you don’t want me . . .”
“Don’t be mouse-brained.” Feathertail gave his ear a quick lick. “I’m sorry I misunderstood. Of course I want you with me.”
“I don’t think we should split up.” Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It’s all of us or none. We came on this journey together and we’ll finish it together—and that means Stormfur as well.” More briskly he added, “Let’s finish eating and get some sleep. We’ll need all our strength.”
Feathertail tried to obey him, forcing down the young hawk that the to-be had left for her, though she felt sick with apprehension. She tried to focus her thoughts on how loyal her friends from the other Clans were. It was hard to imagine that they would ever be able to separate back into their different Clans when they returned to the forest. How would she ever go back to her regular life without them?
She curled into her sleeping hollow, tired enough to sleep, then sat up again. What was that? She turned her head to one side and listened. She could hear voices whispering but there were no cats nearby, except for the Clan cats, and they were all asleep. Twitching her ears, Feathertail froze. The voices were coming from the waterfall, almost hidden among the rushing, hissing water. She strained to make out what they were saying.
The silver cat has come, they seemed to whisper. Sharptooth will be destroyed.
No, Feathertail argued silently, instinctively. She didn’t stop to figure out who she was talking to. You’re wrong. Stormfur is not your cat. He must come with us.
She waited for a reply, but the voices had vanished into the roar of the water, and Feathertail began to wonder if she had even heard them at all. A long time passed; moonlight crept across the floor of the cave and faded before exhaustion overcame her and she finally fell into a troubled sleep.
A paw roughly shaking her shoulder woke Feathertail, and she looked up into the stern face of Crag. “It’s time to go,” he announced.
Other guards were rousing her friends. As she stumbled drowsily out of her sleeping hollow, she saw Stoneteller standing at the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Cave of Pointed Stones. Two more cave-guards stood alertly beside him, and Feathertail thought she could make out more in the tunnel itself; the Tribe cats were making sure that Stormfur was too heavily guarded for any sort of rescue attempt.
“We will take you to the edge of our territory and show you the best way through the rest of the mountains,” Crag meowed.
“What about Stormfur?” Brambleclaw asked, shaking a feather from his pelt. “We can’t go without him.”
The ThunderClan warrior’s last attempt to free his friend peacefully was doomed to failure; Crag was shaking his head before he finished speaking. “You can’t take him with you,” he meowed. “His destiny is to stay here and save our Tribe from Sharptooth. We will care for him and honour him.”
“So that makes it all right, then?” Crowpaw muttered disgustedly.
The cave-guards gathered around the Clan cats and forced them towards the entrance. Feathertail noticed that Crowpaw was still limping from the blow he had taken from the cave-guard the night before.
“Are you OK to travel?” she murmured in his ear.
“I don’t have much choice, have I?” he meowed disagreeably, only to turn to her a moment later and touch his nose to her muzzle. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”
Just before they reached the waterfall, Feathertail heard her name, and turned to see Brook bounding toward her.
“I . . . I wanted to say farewell,” she mewed as she came up. “I’m sorry it turned out like this. But without your brother, Sharptooth will destroy the whole Tribe.”
Feathertail gazed into the young prey-hunter’s eyes. She knew Brook believed what she was saying, but she couldn’t forget how Stormfur had thought that this cat was his friend. Stormfur didn’t make friends easily—a legacy of being half-Clan, always feeling as if he had more to prove than other warriors, as if he could never fight hard enough or catch enough prey. Feathertail had watched this she-cat win her brother’s trust, but now she had betrayed him, and would probably see him die in a battle with Sharptooth for the sake of her Tribe.