“Come on.” Crowpaw brushed his tail against Feathertail’s flank, already damp from the spray of the waterfall. Feathertail turned away from Brook without another word. As she padded along the narrow path, she strained to hear the voices in the thundering water, but today she heard only the ceaseless pounding of foam.
Whoever you are, she vowed silently, we will come back for my brother. He is ours, and his destiny lies far away from here.
The forest cats travelled through the mountains until almost sunhigh. The cave-guards kept pace with them on either side, their gaze fixed on the path ahead. They did not even stop to hunt, and the tense silence made every hair tingle on Feathertail’s pelt.
She tried to study every rock, every tree, every twist in the path, hoping that they would be able to follow their own scent trail back to the cave. The rocky slopes were more familiar to her now, but all the paths still looked the same. In contrast, the cave-guards seemed to know exactly where they were going, sometimes doubling back to avoid boulders or cliffs.
Once Crag led them down a slope of shifting scree to a mountain stream. “Drink,” he ordered, flicking his tail at the tumbling water.
Crowpaw’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the slippery rocks by the waterside, and Tawnypelt exchanged a suspicious glance with her brother.
“We’re not going to push you in,” Crag mewed irritably. “You must learn to drink when you can in the mountains.”
Still wary, the forest cats crouched down and lapped the icy water.
The air was crisp and cold, with the sun shining in a pale blue sky. Wind ruffled their fur, but there was no sign of rain to wash away the scent trail. To Feathertail’s relief, Crowpaw’s limp didn’t seem to be bothering him, and grew less apparent as the young cat exercised his injured leg. Tawnypelt was also managing well; although Feathertail saw her flinch once or twice when she had to cope with a difficult leap, she did not complain.
After a scramble over steep rocks, Crag brought them to a halt.
“This is the edge of our territory,” he announced, though there were no scent markers to indicate a border. “You must go on alone from here.”
Relief stabbed through Feathertail. She couldn’t wait to get away from the cave-guards and their stern, silent looks.
“Head for that mountain,” Crag went on, pointing with his tail at a sharp peak, its upper slopes streaked with the white of snow. “A path winds round it to greener lands beyond. You should be safe from Sharptooth until night falls.”
Feathertail thought he put too much stress on Sharptooth, as if there were other dangers lurking among the rocks. Her suspicions hardened when she saw one of the other guards give him a warning glance. “Go on,” the Tribe cat meowed roughly, giving her no chance to ask any questions, “while there’s still plenty of daylight.”
He dipped his head to Brambleclaw. “Farewell,” he meowed. “I wish we could have met in a happier time. Our Tribes have much to teach each other.”
“There’s nothing I want to learn from you,” Squirrelpaw muttered, and for once Crowpaw looked as if he agreed with her.
“I wish that too.” Brambleclaw shot an icy glance at his companions to silence them. “But there cannot be friendship between us while you keep our friend a prisoner.”
Crag bowed his head again; he looked genuinely regretful. “That is our fate and his, as our warrior ancestors have promised. Just as yours have made a promise to you.”
He called the rest of his patrol around him with a flick of his tail, and all the cave-guards waited while Brambleclaw led the Clan cats up a grassy slope. Soon the grass gave way to loose stones, leading upwards to a ridge of spiky rock.
Brambleclaw paused at the top. Feathertail glanced back to see that Crag and the other cave-guards were still watching them with unblinking stares.
“They’re making sure we leave,” Tawnypelt growled. “That means they’ll probably be looking out in case we come back.”
Crowpaw shrugged. “Their loss.” He flexed his claws against the bare rock. “If we meet a patrol out here, they’re crowfood.”
Brambleclaw flashed him a glance. “We’ll do this without fighting, if we can,” he mewed. “Remember that we can’t afford injuries this far from home. Meanwhile,” he added, “let’s keep going, and make them think we’ve given up.”
He led the way between the rocks. On the other side the land fell away sharply into a grassy hollow. A spring of water bubbled out of a crevice and fell into a small pool. Two or three bushes grew beside it. The wind brought Feathertail the scent of rabbits.
“Can’t we stop here?” Squirrelpaw pleaded. “Remember what they said about drinking when we can? We could hunt, and rest until it’s time to go back.”
Brambleclaw hesitated. “OK. But we’d better keep watch in case the cave-guards come to check on us.”
“I’ll take first watch,” Tawnypelt offered. “My shoulder’s fine,” she added. “And I’ll call you if there’s any trouble.”
Very cautiously, stepping as lightly as if she were stalking a mouse, she slid back between the rocks and disappeared. Squirrelpaw was already bounding down into the hollow, calling out, “Come on! I’m starving!”
“She’ll frighten every scrap of prey from here to Highstones,” Crowpaw grumbled as Brambleclaw took off after her.
Feathertail watched as Brambleclaw caught up to the younger cat, and the two of them went on together, their pelts brushing. They had become very close during the journey, even if they didn’t quite realise it yet.
“Don’t mind Squirrelpaw,” she told Crowpaw. “Let’s go and see if there are any fish in that pool. I could give you a lesson, just in case you want to catch any fish when we get home.” She broke off and looked awkwardly down at the ground. “It’ll be a useful thing to know, whatever happens.”
Crowpaw brightened. “OK.” He paused as if he wanted to say something more, then without a word bounded down the slope after the two ThunderClan cats. Feathertail followed, her mind buzzing with her feelings for Crowpaw as well as her fears for her brother. She approached the pool and gazed down into its blue depths. She and Crowpaw had plenty of time to figure out what they would do when they got back to the forest. She tried to push away the tiny, persistent voice that kept telling her that cats from different Clans couldn’t be together without causing a whole heap of trouble. She shook her head impatiently; right now, the only thing any of them should be thinking about was finding prey to give them strength for Stormfur’s rescue.
A silver flash caught her eye and her paw shot out, claws extended, to hook a fish.
“Come over here,” she instructed Crowpaw, “so your shadow doesn’t fall on the water. And when you see a fish, be quick!”
Crowpaw came to join her, picking his way with a grimace around the muddy edge of the pool. He settled down at her side, but instead of peering into the water he looked into her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this, but . . . will you still see me when we get home?” He glanced down at his paws and added, “I want to be loyal to my Clan, but . . . there’s never been another cat like you, Feathertail.”
Feathertail’s pelt tingled with happiness and excitement. She touched his muzzle with her nose, sensing the uncertainty that made it hard for him to believe that she could like him enough to cross Clan boundaries for him. “I know how you feel. We’ll have to wait and see. It might not be so bad. With everything that’s happening in the forest, the Clans will have to come together.”
To her surprise, Crowpaw shook his head. “I don’t see how. There have always been four Clans.”
“Well, maybe always is going to change,” she meowed quietly. “Now, what about that fish?”
Crowpaw brushed her shoulder with his tail, and crouched down over the water. A few heartbeats later his paw shot out. A fish curved up out of the water and fell wriggling on the ground; Crowpaw grabbed it in his jaws before it could slide back into the pool.
Feathertail jumped up and pushed her nose agai
nst his shoulder. “Well done! We’ll make a RiverClan cat of you yet.” She broke off, confused, and Crowpaw blinked in understanding.
His eyes were shining; Feathertail wished their companions could see this side of him, eager and enthusiastic, instead of the defensive, difficult face he chose to show to them.
She was distracted by a movement at the top of the rocks and looked up to see Tawnypelt crouched on the smooth stone.
“The cave-guards have gone,” the ShadowClan warrior called down to them. “But I’ll stay on watch.”
Not long after, Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw returned from their hunting expedition with a couple of rabbits and a few mice; along with Feathertail’s and Crowpaw’s fish there was enough fresh-kill for all of them.
They each took a turn on watch, but there was no sign of any Tribe cats. They spent the rest of the day in the shelter of the bushes. Feathertail felt more at home out here, in the silent open air, than in the stuffy, noise-filled cave.
Clouds gathered in the sky, grey and ominous, covering the sun. The wind dropped; the air became heavy and damp, as if there were a storm coming.
At last the daylight faded and shadows began to thicken in the hollow.
Brambleclaw rose to his paws. “It’s time,” he meowed.
He took a few pawsteps back up the slope; as the others followed, Feathertail suddenly noticed how easily they could be seen against the rocks, especially Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger pelt and her own light grey fur.
“This is never going to work. They’re bound to spot us coming,” she mewed anxiously.
“Wait.” Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t we roll ourselves in the mud? Then we’d look like Tribe cats, especially in the dark. It would help to hide our scent too.”
Tawnypelt gave her a look full of respect. “That has to be the best idea I’ve heard for a moon.”
Squirrelpaw’s green eyes glowed, and she hurried back to the pool and began nosing around the edge. “There’s plenty of mud here!” she called, beginning to roll in a sticky patch to plaster her fur.
Crowpaw’s whiskers twitched in disgust as he and the others followed. “Just the sort of idea she would dream up. Clever, though,” he admitted grudgingly.
Feathertail winced as she padded to the edge of the pool and felt mud ooze around her paws. Cold seeped through to her skin as she lay down in the glutinous hollow, thinking that at least her thick RiverClan pelt was suited to getting wet. Crowpaw would be much more uncomfortable with his thin, wind-flattened fur, although for once he didn’t complain. She blinked fondly at him, remembering what he’d said earlier about wanting to see her when they got home. Right now, she didn’t want to ever let him out of her sight.
Their pelts streaked and spiky with the mud, the Clan cats climbed back to the ridge and down the slope on the other side, warily crossing back into the Tribe’s territory. Feathertail pricked her ears, alert for the sound of other cats, and they all stopped every few paces to sniff the air. Even with Squirrelpaw’s disguise, there was a huge risk that they would be spotted, and no cat was sure how far the Tribe cats would go to keep Stormfur. Feathertail knew how desperate they were that their ancestors’ prophecy should come true. She and her friends could all be returning to their deaths.
Brambleclaw’s nose was almost touching the path as he sniffed out their scent trail from that morning. Feathertail tried hard to remember the landmarks they had passed, but everything looked different in the gathering darkness. They were padding down a steep path between broken rocks when Crowpaw suddenly halted, his muzzle raised and his jaws parted. Then he whirled on Feathertail and pushed her behind a rock, signalling wildly with his tail for the other cats to hide too.
A heartbeat later, Feathertail caught the same scent: Tribe cats! Peering out cautiously, she saw a patrol of lithe prey-hunters bounding along the path in the same direction, their jaws filled with prey, their escort of cave-guards around them. She tensed, waiting for them to pick up the intruders’ scent and turn to attack, but they passed her hiding place without pause and disappeared into the darkness. Squirrelpaw’s mud must have masked their scent, as they’d hoped.
“That’s twice I saved you,” Crowpaw teased, stepping away to let Feathertail stand up straight.
She touched noses with him with a purr of amusement. “I know. I won’t forget it; don’t worry.”
Brambleclaw emerged from among the rocks at the other side of the path, signalling to the others to move on. This time Tawnypelt brought up the rear, keeping a lookout behind in case more prey-hunters were on their way home. The moon was just rising over the topmost peaks, a fuzzy white glow behind the covering of clouds, when they came to the river. Still alert for the sound of other Tribe cats, they followed the rushing water until they heard the roar of the waterfall in the distance.
“Quiet now,” Brambleclaw whispered. “We’re getting close.” Silently they padded on until they reached the top of the falls. Feathertail crouched at the edge of the river, watching the dark water slide over the lip of the rock. Then a flash of lightning split the sky overhead, and above the thunder of the water she heard a rumbling in the sky.
“Storm’s coming,” Crowpaw breathed into her ear.
A fat drop of rain landed on Feathertail’s head, and she shook it off. The noise and confusion of a storm might help them, but then she wondered if it would drive more cats than usual into the cave. Stormfur was heavily guarded already—they couldn’t hope to take on the whole of the Tribe.
“Let’s go,” Squirrelpaw muttered impatiently.
Lightning flashed and another roll of thunder crashed overhead as the cats peered down. Feathertail could just make out the foaming white of the water as it fell into the pool. Then she thought she saw a movement in the darkness at the end of the path.
“What’s that?” Crowpaw had seen it too.
As if in answer, another claw of lightning crackled across the sky. Feathertail heard Tawnypelt gasp in horror. For a single heartbeat that seemed to last forever, the white flash lit up the shape of a huge tawny-coloured cat slinking along the path; it paused as the thunder pounded the sky, then padded on to disappear behind the waterfall.
Sharptooth!
CHAPTER 15
A terrible shrieking broke out in the cave, slicing through the sound of the rain pattering around them and even the noise of the falls. Feathertail sprang to her paws; every hair on her pelt told her to flee as far from the cave as she could. Only the thought of the danger that Stormfur was in made her stay where she was.
“Come on!” Brambleclaw’s voice was tense.
The rest of the cats stared at him in disbelief.
“Down there?” Crowpaw demanded. “Are you mouse-brained?”
“Think!” Brambleclaw was already bounding towards the cave entrance; he paused and swung around to face the apprentice. “With Sharptooth in the cave, no cat will notice us. This might be our only chance to get Stormfur out.”
Without waiting to see if the others were following he leaped down the rocks towards the path.
“I still think he’s crazy!” muttered Crowpaw, but he followed all the same.
Feathertail scrambled down after them, her paws sliding on the wet rocks, her claws scraping painfully as she tried to keep her balance. She ran along the ledge behind the falls with barely enough time to be afraid of slipping and falling into the turbulent pool below. The screeching grew louder. Terror surged through Feathertail as she imagined what they would find inside the cave; Sharptooth might be sinking his fangs into Stormfur’s neck at that very moment, clawing her brother’s pelt and turning him into fresh-kill.
She skidded into the cave and halted just behind Brambleclaw. For a moment she could hardly make sense of what she was seeing. With the moon covered by clouds, the cave was almost dark; the huge shape of Sharptooth seemed to be everywhere at once, massive paws pounding on the floor as he sprang from wall to wall, blood spattered against his flanks and saliva dripping from his jaws.
This was more terrible than Feathertail had ever imagined—there was no way Stormfur could challenge this beast and survive.
The Tribe cats scattered, scrambling blindly out of their sleeping hollows. Feathertail caught a glimpse of Brook, hustling a kit down the tunnel that led to the nursery, with another dangling from her jaws. Near the other tunnel, a cave-guard was clinging to the huge lion-cat’s neck, only to be thrown off and flung against the wall with a sickening thud. The cave-guard slid to the floor and lay still, a trickle of blood running from its mouth. While Feathertail stared in horror, two or three cats fled past her with shrill cries, blundering against the Clan cats without realising who they were.
“This way!” Brambleclaw ordered. He looked at each Clan cat in turn, his gaze resting longest on Squirrelpaw. “We have to do this for Stormfur,” he reminded them.
Sharptooth had pounded across to leap up the far wall of the cave, trying to reach a Tribe cat who cowered on a ledge just above the vicious claws. Skirting the cave walls, clinging to the darkest corners, Brambleclaw headed for the tunnel leading to the Cave of Pointed Stones. Feathertail and the others followed. In the blackness they stumbled against Tribe cats, some wounded, others frozen in fear, but the terror and blood-scent filling the cave were so strong that no cat recognised them.
At the tunnel entrance, two cave-guards still held their positions, their fur standing on end and their eyes stretched wide. Feathertail felt a flash of respect for their courage, to stay there when all their Tribemates were running for their lives.
“Now!” Brambleclaw and Crowpaw launched themselves at the cave-guards, their claws slashing and their teeth bared. Squirrelpaw was only a heartbeat behind them. Feathertail heard an exclamation of astonishment from one of the guards, and recognised Crag’s voice. She saw Brambleclaw bowl him over and fasten his teeth in the cave-guard’s neck fur, while Crowpaw cuffed the other guard on both ears, drawing him away from the tunnel entrance. Squirrelpaw sank her teeth into Crag’s tail and held on.