In the rain and the darkness, Stormfur had seen very little of their surroundings before they found the cave. Now he saw that just below the entrance the rocks were broken up; thin soil had lodged in the cracks, enough for grass to grow and a few bushes. A trickle of water wound among them. “Down there,” he suggested.
Squirrelpaw swept her tail back towards the hole. “The rest want to sleep, just as if they were hedgehogs in leaf-bare,” she meowed. “Let’s hunt, and surprise them when they wake up!”
“OK.” Stormfur was pleased to be hunting with the determinedly cheerful apprentice, away from the ThunderClan warrior who took up so much of her attention. But since the beginning of their journey home he had been aware of how close she and Brambleclaw had become. It would always be easier for them to be together than for her to have any connection with Stormfur. Besides, he was starting to realise that he felt about Brook in a completely different way from how he felt about Squirrelpaw.
He had kept a check on his feelings for Squirrelpaw because they were in different Clans, but he was drawn to Brook in a way that he couldn’t ignore so easily. The sheen on her tabby fur, the glow in her eyes, her speed and skill, stayed with him even though he had escaped from the cave. Was that how Crowpaw and Feathertail felt about each other? he wondered suddenly, with a pang of sympathy he had never felt before. Would he cross boundaries like that to be with Brook?
Stormfur pushed the thought away. He would never see Brook again, so what was the point? He tried to focus instead on the sunny morning, and the pleasure of hunting with a skilful partner. It was good to have Squirrelpaw beside him as a friend, without the jealousy that might have threatened his friendship with Brambleclaw.
“Come on!” Squirrelpaw had already bounded down among the bushes. “I want you to teach me some of those new mountain moves.”
As the sun rose higher they stalked through the sparse mountain vegetation, beginning to build a pile of fresh-kill on the ledge outside the cave. Squirrelpaw learned the new ways of hunting quickly, and couldn’t stop herself bouncing like a kit with the delight of bringing down her first falcon.
“We need to teach this stuff at home,” she meowed, flicking a feather off her nose with one paw. “We always hunt in the undergrowth, but like this we could hunt out in the open as well.”
Bleak thoughts about the future of the forest rushed through Stormfur’s mind. Squirrelpaw clearly guessed what he was thinking, for her triumph faded and she added somberly, “We might need to.”
When they returned to the cave with more prey to add to the pile they had started, Stormfur saw Talon crouched on the ledge, his eyes half closed as he let the sun soak into his ragged fur.
He opened his eyes as the two Clan cats approached. “You’ve hunted well,” he meowed.
“Help yourself,” Stormfur invited him.
“Thanks.” He padded over to the pile and dragged out a rabbit.
Squirrelpaw trotted back inside the hole. “I’m going to get our lazy friends,” she announced.
Stormfur noticed that Talon had stopped eating after just one bite, and was looking at him expectantly. Almost without realising what he was doing, Stormfur pulled a falcon from the pile of fresh-kill, took a hasty bite, and shoved it towards Talon. The Tribe cat nodded and pushed his own piece of fresh-kill towards Stormfur.
“I see your Tribe shares as well,” was all he said, and Stormfur looked down at his paws, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
For a few moments, they ate their prey in silence. Stormfur was not sure how the exiled cats had changed from being enemies to something like friends, but he was certain that the Clan cats had nothing to fear from them now. He just wished that there were some way of helping them.
“I can tell you’re worried about the Tribe,” he began awkwardly, swallowing a mouthful of rabbit.
“Of course I’m worried.” Talon fixed him with a piercing amber gaze. “And so are you, even though you’re not one of us.”
Stormfur nodded slowly. He had been trying not to admit that, even to himself. Were his feelings so obvious, even to a stranger?
“Every day they live in fear,” Talon went on. “Every pawstep out of the cave is filled with terror, when every rock might be hiding Sharptooth.”
Stormfur nodded, thinking of the cave-guards who went out with the hunting parties. He tried to imagine what it would be like never to run freely through your own territory, always to feel the threat of claws and fangs. Cold shivers ran through his pelt as he remembered hunting with Brook in the first days of their stay with the Tribe. She had told him that Crag and the others were there to guard the prey-hunters from eagles, but now he understood that they were watching for Sharptooth as well. He and the Tribe cats had been in as much danger as any of the prey they hunted.
“I wish I knew what to do,” he meowed. “We made this journey because of a prophecy from StarClan—”
“StarClan?” Talon echoed. “The spirits of our warrior ancestors,” Stormfur explained. “Like your Tribe of Endless Hunting.”
He went on to explain how StarClan had prophesied great trouble for the forest and chosen four cats, one from each of the Clans, to make the journey and learn what Midnight had to tell them.
“I wasn’t one of the four,” he finished, “but I came to be with my sister.”
“And now you’re going home,” Talon meowed.
“Yes, but we don’t know whether we’ll be in time to help.” Even while he was speaking, Stormfur reflected that at least they could go home; Talon and his Tribemates never could.
“Your Tribemate said that you’d escaped from the Tribe of Rushing Water.” Talon looked puzzled. “Does that mean they kept you prisoner? That is not the Tribe I knew.”
“It wasn’t quite like that.” Stormfur swallowed. If he wanted to earn the trust of this cat, he had to tell his story, but he didn’t know how Talon would react. There was every chance that the huge tabby would try to drag him back to the Tribe to fulfil the prophecy and win the right to return to his home. “There was another prophecy,” he admitted. “Stoneteller had a sign from the Tribe of Endless Hunting . . .”
Talon listened to the story with his unblinking amber gaze fixed on Stormfur. “A silver cat?” he rumbled, when the story was finished. “Do you believe you are the one?”
Stormfur started to deny it, and found he could not. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “At first I didn’t see how I could be, but now . . . The first prophecy, the one from StarClan, matters more than anything to me. But I’m not one of the chosen. I can’t help wondering whether I’m meant to do this instead.” He sighed. “But I can’t follow both prophecies. Which one of them is right?”
Talon was silent for a few moments. Then he meowed heavily, “Neither of them is right. And neither is wrong.” He let out a soft growl from deep in his throat. “Prophecies are strange things. Their words are never clear.”
Stormfur nodded, remembering how he and his friends had thought that “midnight” meant just that, until they discovered that it was the name of the wise badger who had told them what they should do.
“Everything depends on how cats interpret the prophecy,” Talon went on. “And whether the prophecy is fulfilled depends on what they decide to do about it. It is up to us to choose the code we live by. Isn’t that true for your cats as well?”
Stormfur stared in surprise at the older cat. He was right. StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting made exactly the same demands on the cats they watched over, with the same promises of protection and guidance if only they knew how to read the signs.
“What do you think you should do?” Talon challenged him.
Stormfur shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“But you will.” The big tabby rose to his paws. “Your faith and your courage will tell you.” Amusement glinted faintly in his amber eyes. “Just don’t take too long about it,” he added as he squeezed back into the tunnel that led to the cave.
When he h
ad gone, Stormfur let out an exhausted sigh. These mysteries were too much for him; he was a warrior, and all he wanted was to follow the warrior code. But what should he do, when the code did not speak clearly to him?
The sun was warm on his fur, and it was a long time since he had slept. His belly was comfortably full of prey. He yawned, and his eyes closed.
Hardly any time seemed to have passed before he realised that he was lying in a forest clearing, though he could not have said exactly where it was. The scent of green, growing things was all around him, and he could hear the soft murmur of a stream. He opened his eyes to see moonlight filtering through the leaves above his head.
He stirred, puzzled. This was a forest at the height of green-leaf, though by now leaf-bare should be well on its way. Then another scent tickled his nose, something sweet and reassuring and somehow achingly familiar, though he had no memory of smelling it before. A voice behind him mewed, “Stormfur.”
He turned his head and for a heartbeat thought he was looking at Feathertail. No, this cat had a silvery grey pelt very like his sister’s, but he didn’t recognise her.
“Who are you?” he demanded, rising to his paws.
The cat did not reply, but padded over to him and touched noses with him. Stormfur saw the glitter of starshine around her paws. With a shiver, he knew that he was dreaming, and that a warrior of StarClan had come to visit him.
“Dearest Stormfur, I am so proud of you and Feathertail,” the strange warrior began. “You have come through great trials and proved your courage and faith, time and again. You have obeyed StarClan in everything, and we are well pleased with you.”
“Er . . . thank you,” Stormfur mewed uncertainly.
“Yet the cats of the Tribe have courage and faith too, even though they follow different warrior ancestors. You should honour them and the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”
“I know,” Stormfur agreed with feeling. Whoever this StarClan warrior was, she understood exactly how he felt. “Please tell me what I should do—and tell me who you are.”
The cat bent close to him so that her sweet scent flooded his senses. “Don’t you know?” she murmured. “I am your mother, Silverstream. And as for what you must do—Stormfur, remember that a question can have many answers . . .”
The light around her began to fade. Stormfur was left alone in the clearing.
“Don’t go!” he pleaded.
He spun around, trying to see where she had gone. His eyes flew open, and he found himself lying on the ground outside the hole, with his friends dividing up the pile of fresh-kill a little way off.
He staggered to his paws. He had been sent a dream from StarClan! He had seen his own mother, who had died giving birth to him and Feathertail. But there was no time to mourn the fact that he had never known her alive. At last he knew what he had to do, although he had no idea how he was going to do it.
Feathertail looked up, her blue eyes startled. “What’s the matter?”
“I . . . I have to go back,” Stormfur rasped. “I have to fulfil the Tribe’s prophecy.”
“What?” That was Tawnypelt, leaving the mouse she was eating to come and stand over him. “Have bees swarmed in your brain?”
Stormfur shook his head. “I spoke to Silverstream. To our mother,” he went on to Feathertail. “She came to me in a dream.”
Feathertail’s eyes stretched wide. “And she told you to go back?”
“Well, not exactly. But she told me that a question can have many answers. I think one of those answers is for me to go back and accept the fate that the Tribe of Endless Hunting have laid down.”
“But Stormfur . . .” Brambleclaw looked puzzled. “What about your duty to StarClan? What about our prophecy?”
“I was never one of the four chosen cats,” Stormfur meowed. “And Silverstream said that the Tribe of Endless Hunting should be honoured too. They are warrior ancestors, after all, even if they are not ours.”
He could see that Brambleclaw was unhappy about his decision, and he hoped that the ThunderClan warrior would not try to order him to continue the journey. He respected Brambleclaw, and had been content to follow his lead, but now that he knew that he had found the right path, nothing would turn him aside, not even the friendship that had grown between them.
“What do the rest of you think?” Brambleclaw meowed.
The Clan cats looked uncertainly at one another. While he was waiting for one of them to speak, Stormfur noticed Talon sitting a little way apart with Rock and Bird. For the first time Stormfur thought he could see a gleam of hope in his amber eyes, but when Talon caught his gaze he looked away, as if he would not allow himself a voice in this debate.
“Well, I think it’s a mouse-brained idea.” Tawnypelt’s tail twitched back and forth. “I’m staying with Brambleclaw and going back to the forest. Or have you forgotten about what’s happening there?”
“I’m not asking any cat to come with me,” Stormfur meowed hastily. “This is something that I have to do, but the rest of you can go on with the journey.”
Feathertail got up and padded towards him, pressing her nose against his shoulder. “Stupid furball,” she mewed. “You don’t think I’m going to let you do this alone, do you?”
“Then I’ll come too.” Stormfur was not surprised that Crowpaw wanted to go with Feathertail, but he was startled as the WindClan apprentice went on, “Actually, Stormfur, I think you’re right. Ever since we rescued you, you’ve been mooning around like a rabbit without its tail. It makes my fur ache, just looking at you. You’re obviously going to be no use at all until you’ve tried to help these cats.”
Stormfur gave him a nod of gratitude. Crowpaw’s bad-tempered words couldn’t disguise that he had just made a courageous offer. None of the Clan cats could be sure that the Tribe would welcome them, not to mention the danger from Sharptooth.
“I want to come too!” Squirrelpaw sprang to her paws, her green eyes blazing and her tail curled up with excitement. Turning to Brambleclaw, she pleaded, “Can’t we all go? We can’t let Stormfur face Sharptooth by himself.”
“He isn’t by himself,” Brambleclaw mewed dryly. With a rueful glance at Tawnypelt, he added, “It looks as if we’re out-voted. If one goes, we all go. I haven’t forgotten about the forest—but we have to remember the warrior code, too.”
Squirrelpaw let out a wordless yowl of triumph.
Tawnypelt’s tail lashed once. “I think you’re all as crazy as hares in newleaf,” she growled. “But I said I’d stay with you, Brambleclaw, and I will.”
Stormfur looked around at them, warmed to the roots of his fur by their loyalty. Except for his sister, none of them had any reason to support him apart from the bonds that had been forged between them on their journey. Midnight had spoken the truth when she said that four clans had become one. Stormfur could see nothing but good in the way that the old Clan boundaries were melting away, and he wondered if in the forest the Clans were learning to be friends as well while facing the Twoleg threat. Perhaps at last the ache of his half-Clan heritage could be soothed, and he would find a place where he could truly belong. “Thank you,” he mewed solemnly.
“The Tribe of Endless Hunting will honour your courage,” Talon meowed. “But what exactly do you mean to do?”
“I have an idea!” Squirrelpaw looked almost ready to leap out of her fur.
Every cat looked at her. Talon let out a hiss of disbelief.
“Go on,” urged Brambleclaw.
“What Silverstream said,” Squirrelpaw began, “about every question having many answers. Well, lots of cats have tried to kill Sharptooth and failed, over and over again. Even fighters like Talon. So we have to find another answer, and I think I know what it is.”
“What?” Crowpaw’s voice was dry. “Are you going to go up to him and ask him nicely to go away?”
“Mouse-brain!” meowed Squirrelpaw. “No, if we can’t kill Sharptooth by ourselves, we have to find something else to do it for us.”
CHAPTER 20
The mouse’s tail slipped between Leafpaw’s outstretched claws, leaving her to glare in frustration at the crevice where the tiny creature had vanished. She had left the camp to collect more herbs for Cinderpelt, and following Firestar’s order that no cats were to go out alone, Sorreltail was with her.
“Bad luck,” the tortoiseshell warrior meowed sympathetically. “But it was pretty scrawny to start with.”
“It was prey,” Leafpaw retorted. “I’d have caught it if I weren’t so hungry that I can’t see straight.”
She began backing out from underneath the bush. Suddenly she noticed its familiar dark green leaves for the first time, and the red berries that clung to its branches and lay scattered around the trunk.
“Mouse dung!” she hissed. “And I’ve got the filthy stuff on my paws.”
“What’s the matter?”
Leafpaw backed out the rest of the way and pointed at the berries with her tail. “Deathberries,” she meowed. “I was so keen to catch the mouse that I never saw them.”
Sorreltail shivered. “Let’s find some water and wash it off, quick.”
Leafpaw was puzzled to see the look of horror in her friend’s eyes. Deathberries were pretty bad, but only if you ate them. Sorreltail was one of the bravest cats she knew, yet she looked thoroughly spooked by the sight of the berries, her ears lying flat and her fur bristling.
“Are you OK?” Leafpaw asked as they padded on into the forest, keeping a lookout for a puddle where she could wash off any poison that might have gotten on to her pads.
“I’m fine.” Sorreltail blinked. “Did you know that I once nearly died from deathberries?”
“No!” Leafpaw stopped, her eyes wide with shock. “What happened?”
“It was when I was a kit, before you were born. I’d followed Darkstripe into the forest—you won’t remember Darkstripe; he was Tigerstar’s biggest ally in ThunderClan. When I spotted him talking to Blackstar—he was Blackfoot then, Tigerstar’s deputy—on our territory, he gave me the deathberries so I couldn’t tell any cat what I’d seen.”