Shuddering, Leafpaw curled deeper into the moss, trying to find comfort in its warmth while the last wisps of her dream hung in her mind like mist. She had been standing near the Thunderpath, watching the Twoleg monsters as they roared through the forest, crushing cats under their huge black paws. Blood had run like a river across the forest floor. Spottedleaf had stood beside her, and Leafpaw had turned to her with a desperate plea. “Save them! Please! Why don’t you save them?”
Spottedleaf’s eyes had rested sadly on Leafpaw’s dying friends. “There is nothing more StarClan can do to help,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Then she had faded away, and Leafpaw had woken up.
She rose to her paws, staggering, and padded across to Cinderpelt’s den. The medicine cat was not there; Leafpaw could see an empty heap of bedding at the back of the cleft and wondered if some emergency had called her away, and whether there was yet another disaster they would have to face. A whimper rose at the back of her throat, and she firmly closed her jaws on it. Whatever fate was coming, even if their warrior ancestors were helpless, she would go on helping her Clan while she had the strength.
A rustle behind her made her turn to see Cinderpelt brushing her way through the fern tunnel. The medicine cat’s tail was drooping, though she tried to brighten up when she saw Leafpaw.
“What’s happened?” Leafpaw asked, bracing herself.
“I’ve been to see Frostfur,” the medicine cat replied. “Don’t look like that; she isn’t dead. In fact she’s a little better. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t got greencough.”
“That’s good.” Leafpaw tried to sound pleased, but she couldn’t help adding, “It’s hunger, not greencough, that will be our real enemy this leaf-bare.”
Cinderpelt nodded. “True. And if more cats disappear, there won’t be enough warriors to provide food for the kits and elders, even if they could find prey.” She let out a discouraged sigh.
“Shall I try to catch something for Frostfur?” Leafpaw offered. “I could join a hunting patrol, unless you want more herbs.”
“No, we’re pretty well stocked now. That’s a good idea, Leafpaw—though I’m not sure you’ll find much out there.”
Leafpaw didn’t argue. She padded through the ferns into the main clearing, and for a moment she felt as if she had stepped into the camp as it used to be. Sandstorm and Rainwhisker had just appeared at the mouth of the gorse tunnel, both with fresh-kill in their jaws. Spiderpaw and Shrewpaw were lying in a patch of sunlight outside the apprentices’ den, while Dustpelt and Ferncloud shared tongues at the entrance to the nursery. Firestar and Brackenfur were talking together at the base of the Highrock.
Then Leafpaw realised what she was really seeing. Her father and Brackenfur both looked worried. The two apprentices lay still, instead of scuffling playfully as they used to. The fresh-kill pile where her mother and Rainwhisker dropped their prey was pitifully small. As Leafpaw padded past the nursery, she watched Dustpelt push a mouse towards Ferncloud. The she-cat’s appearance horrified Leafpaw; she was little more than a skeleton, every bone visible under her dull fur.
“You must eat,” Dustpelt meowed. “Hollykit and Birchkit still need you.”
The reek of monsters hung over the clearing, and their roar sounded even louder to Leafpaw. Her eyes filled with a vision of them breaking through the wall of thorns that surrounded the camp, the sun glittering on their bright pelts as they crushed the terrified Clan. She blinked, forcing the images away. She could not stop the Twolegs from doing what they wanted, but she could do something small to help her starving Clan.
As she headed towards Firestar and Brackenfur, she remembered her encounter with Hawkfrost the day before. So far she had not told any cat about his plans to take over ThunderClan’s territory, and she had asked Sorreltail not to say anything either. She hardly knew how to load more trouble onto Firestar’s shoulders, when he had so much to bear already. How could she tell him that his greatest enemy, Tigerstar, lived on in Tigerstar’s son Hawkfrost, in a Clan not weakened by hunger or ravaged by Twolegs? She knew she had to find the words, but she wanted more time to think.
Drawing closer to her father, she heard him meow to Brackenfur, “You could try a hunting patrol near Twolegplace. That’s about as far as you can get from the monsters.”
The anguished cry of a cat in pain interrupted him. Leafpaw spun around to see Greystripe and Mousefur stumbling out of the gorse tunnel. Greystripe looked anxious, and Mousefur was limping along on only three legs, one of her forelimbs hanging useless. Her brown fur was sticking up as if she had been in a fight, though Leafpaw could not see or scent any blood.
Firestar bounded across to her, and Leafpaw followed.
“What happened?” Firestar demanded. “Who did this?”
Mousefur was in too much pain to answer. Her teeth were gritted, and she let out a wordless moan of agony.
“Twolegs,” Greystripe spat, terror stark in his eyes. “We went too close to the monsters, and a Twoleg grabbed her.”
Firestar stared in astonishment.
“Come and see Cinderpelt,” Leafpaw meowed before her father could delay them by asking more questions.
She padded close to the injured she-cat on the way to Cinderpelt’s den. Mousefur’s eyes were glazed with pain; though she struggled along bravely, the effort of making it back to camp had obviously exhausted her. Leafpaw tried to help by letting her lean on her shoulder.
Behind them, Greystripe walked beside Firestar. “The Twolegs usually stay inside their monsters,” he meowed. “But today they were swarming all over the place—StarClan knows why. One of them yowled at Mousefur and she ran, straight into the paws of another one.”
“This is mouse-brained.” Firestar sounded utterly confused. “The Twolegs have always ignored us.”
“Not any more,” Greystripe mewed grimly.
“At least I gave him a few scratches to remember me by,” Mousefur gasped.
Leafpaw raced ahead to alert Cinderpelt, who was sitting at the mouth of her den with her eyes raised to the sky as if she were trying to read some message from StarClan in the movement of the clouds.
“It’s Mousefur—she’s hurt!” Leafpaw gasped.
Cinderpelt leaped to her paws. “Oh, great StarClan!” she exclaimed. “What next?” She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could barely brace herself to carry on, but her voice was as calm as ever when she meowed, “Come and lie down here, and I’ll take a look.”
Mousefur lay down in front of the den, and Cinderpelt ran her nose along the injured leg, sniffing carefully at the shoulder. “It’s dislocated,” she meowed at last. “Cheer up, Mousefur. I can put it right, but it’s going to hurt. Leafpaw, fetch me some poppy seeds.”
Leafpaw obeyed, and Mousefur licked them up. As they waited a few moments for the seeds to dull the she-cat’s pain, Leafpaw listened to her father and Greystripe talking together near the mouth of the tunnel.
“I’ll have to forbid cats to go anywhere near the Twolegs,” Firestar mewed. “Soon there’ll be nowhere safe outside the camp. Already some of the cats are too scared to go out on patrol.”
“We’re not finished yet,” Greystripe retorted stubbornly. “StarClan won’t let us be destroyed.”
Firestar shook his head, and stalked back down the tunnel into the main clearing. After a moment Greystripe, with a worried glance at Mousefur, followed him.
“OK, Leafpaw,” Cinderpelt meowed. By now the brown warrior was growing sleepy, her head lolling forwards on to her paws. “Let’s do it. Put your paws there,” she went on, pointing to Mousefur’s other foreleg. “Hold her still while I put her leg back. I don’t want to be clawed to death. And watch carefully what I do,” she added. “You haven’t seen this before.”
Leafpaw carefully positioned herself as her mentor had shown her, while Cinderpelt took Mousefur’s injured leg firmly in her teeth, bracing one paw against her shoulder. Then she pulled; Leafpaw heard a sharp click and Mousefur jerked, letti
ng out a furious yowl.
“Excellent,” Cinderpelt muttered.
She examined Mousefur’s shoulder again while the she-cat lay limp and trembling. “That’s fine,” she mewed, nudging the brown she-cat to her paws. “See if you can put your weight on it.”
Mousefur tried; she staggered, more from exhaustion and the effects of the poppy seeds than from her injury, Leafpaw thought, but stayed on her paws.
“You’d better get some sleep.” Cinderpelt began guiding her to the ferns at the edge of the clearing. “I’ll check you again when you wake, but I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble.” Glancing back at Leafpaw, she added, “You did well there. I can manage now if you want to go and hunt.”
Leafpaw paused while her mentor settled Mousefur among the ferns. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”
Cinderpelt shook her head. “There’s nothing more to do. There’s nothing any of us can do,” she added in a lower voice. “StarClan is silent.”
Her despair appalled Leafpaw. Amid all the chaos caused by the Twolegs, she had always believed that Cinderpelt’s faith would stand firm. And worst of all, there was nothing she could say to lift her mentor’s spirits—not when Spottedleaf herself had admitted that StarClan was as powerless as the cats in the forest.
“I’m not going hunting,” she meowed firmly. “I’m going to find out what happened to our missing cats.”
Cinderpelt stared at her, puzzled. “What?”
“Don’t you see? If Mousefur hadn’t struggled free, the Twoleg would have taken her away. We might never have known what happened to her. That must be what happened to Cloudtail and Brightheart too.”
The medicine cat’s expression cleared. “Yes, I see that. But Leafpaw—what if you don’t come back?”
Leafpaw gazed at her, half regretting that she had told Cinderpelt her plan. What if she refused to let her go?
“This is the first clue we’ve had about the disappearances,” she meowed. “We must try to find out the truth.”
To her relief, after a moment’s hesitation, Cinderpelt nodded. “Very well. But be careful. And find another cat to go with you.” As Leafpaw turned to go, she added, “You’re a brave cat, Leafpaw. Remember that the Clan can’t afford to lose you.”
Leafpaw dipped her head, embarrassed by her mentor’s praise, and slipped through the ferns. Back in the main clearing, she could sense that a change had fallen over the Clan. News of the attack on Mousefur had clearly spread; the air was full of the scent of fear and despair. Leafpaw wanted to spring up onto the Highrock and call out to her Clanmates, to make them realise that they mustn’t give up. As long as they were alive, there was still hope. But who would listen to an apprentice? And what words could she find that would make a difference?
Taking a deep breath, she made up her mind. She would go to Firestar and tell him everything she knew about the cats who had been sent away by StarClan. Even though she had no idea where they were now, or if they would ever return, the news might at least give Firestar and the rest of ThunderClan reassurance that StarClan was not indifferent to what was going on in the forest. She would tell him about Hawkfrost too, and his plans to take over ThunderClan’s territory. She was sick of secrets; it would be a relief to unburden herself after so long.
But first she would go and look for the missing cats, in case Firestar punished her for not telling him sooner by confining her to the camp. Quickly she made her way to the outside of the warriors’ den and called, “Sorreltail!”
Her friend peered out through the branches. “Leafpaw? What is it?”
Leafpaw thought back to the morning not so long ago when she had called Sorreltail out to visit WindClan. Then there had been hope; Sorreltail had been bright and lively, eager for action. Now her tortoiseshell fur looked dull, and her eyes stared blankly at Leafpaw.
“I want you to come with me,” Leafpaw began, and explained her plan to investigate the disappearances.
To her relief, Sorreltail’s eyes brightened as she spoke. “OK,” the tortoiseshell warrior meowed. “It’s better than lying around the camp all day. Let’s go.”
She threaded her way out between the branches of the den, and both cats headed through the gorse tunnel.
Leafpaw followed Greystripe’s and Mousefur’s scents back towards the scarred section of the forest where the Twoleg monsters rampaged. She had been this way the day before, when she and Sorreltail had watched the monster uproot the tree, but she was astonished to see how much more destruction the Twolegs had created in such a short time. The ground had been churned into mud, with monsters crouched here and there, or roaring across the ground with a horrible slow movement as if they were creeping up on prey.
There were Twoleg nests there, too, roughly made of wood rather than the hard red stone in Twolegplace. The cats crouched in the shelter of one of them, peering out at the Twolegs walking around. Leafpaw could feel Sorreltail quivering, fear-scent coming off her in waves; she felt just as terrified, but there was no way she was going back now, not when she was so close to finding out what happened to Cloudtail and Brighteart.
“What’s that?” she murmured to Sorreltail.
She pointed with her tail at what looked like a miniature Twoleg den, made of wood and open at one end, set underneath one of the few surviving trees. It was far too small for a Twoleg to get inside.
Sorreltail shrugged. “Dunno. Some Twoleg thing.”
“I’m going to look.”
Warily glancing from side to side in case a Twoleg tried to grab her, Leafpaw crept across the open ground. Behind her she heard Sorreltail meow, “Be careful!”
As Leafpaw drew closer, she picked up the scent of food coming from the den. Though it was unfamiliar, not the fresh-kill scent she was used to, water flooded her mouth. She needed all her self-control not to dash forwards and start eating. She knew that whatever it was, Twolegs must have put it there, and that meant danger.
Outside the small den, Leafpaw blinked as another scent reached her. Cat scent, familiar but very faint and stale, and at first she couldn’t figure out which cat it was. Certainly not from ThunderClan. Then she remembered, and her paws tingled with excitement. Mistyfoot! The RiverClan deputy had been here, as well.
Cautiously Leafpaw peered into the den. It was empty except for a white, hollow thing that held the food. Mistyfoot was not there now, and there was nothing to tell Leafpaw where she had gone.
The food scent was even stronger inside. Slowly, one paw at a time, Leafpaw crept into the little den. The white thing held small brown pellets like rabbit droppings, smelling strangely of food and Twolegs at the same time. Leafpaw wondered if this could be the kittypet food Firestar had told her about. Kittypets ate it without being harmed, didn’t they? She took a mouthful, shivering as it slid into her empty belly, and wondered if there were any way she could carry some back for Frostfur.
“Leafpaw! Get out!”
A deafening chorus of voices suddenly seemed to yowl in Leafpaw’s ears. Sorreltail’s was there, but there were many more that she did not recognise, and Spottedleaf’s was loudest of them all.
She choked on her mouthful of pellets. Spinning round, she caught a glimpse of Sorreltail, staring at her in horror. Then the open end of the den slammed shut, and Leafpaw was left in darkness.
EPILOGUE
Squirrelpaw was trapped in a small, dark space that rocked violently from side to side. Her head spun, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her stomach. Her paws scraped frantically on something smooth and solid. She let out a terrified yowl: “Leafpaw!” Then her eyes flew open and she found herself scrambling in a shallow dip in the ground.
“What’s the matter? Yowling like that, you’ll scare all the prey.”
Tawnypelt was standing over her; she had dropped a plump, fresh-caught vole so that she could speak. The five Clan cats had left the mountains last night and were travelling across open moorland. The rising sun, relentlessly showing them the way they must go, had just clear
ed the horizon.
Squirrelpaw heaved herself out of her nest and shook scraps of grass from her pelt. “Nothing. It was just a dream.” She gave her chest fur a few licks to try to hide how shaken she was. Her sister was in terrible danger; she knew that the dream had taken her to wherever Leafpaw was, and shown her the terror she was feeling, but Squirrelpaw guessed that the practical Tawnypelt wouldn’t understand her fears.
Tawnypelt was looking faintly interested. “Was it a sign from StarClan?”
“No.” Squirrelpaw knew she could share some of the details of her dream, without telling Tawnypelt it had connected her with Leafpaw. “I . . . I felt like I was trapped somewhere dark. I didn’t know where I was, and I couldn’t escape.”
Awkwardly, Tawnypelt stepped forwards and pressed her muzzle against Squirrelpaw’s side. “I think we’ve all had bad dreams,” she meowed. “Ever since Feathertail . . .”
Squirrelpaw nodded. Like all of them, she found it hard to believe that they would never see Feathertail again. The Tribe cats had helped them to bury her, beside the pool where the waterfall fell endlessly, churning up spray that made the ground soft enough to dig.
“She has a place of honour here,” Stoneteller had meowed. “We will keep her memory alive for as long as our Tribe survives.”
That had been small comfort for the Clan cats. Crowpaw in particular was shattered by grief, spending all the next day crouched beside Feathertail’s grave. Stormfur kept vigil with him, racked by guilt that he had done nothing to save Feathertail, and had not even imagined that she might be the chosen cat. Her silver fur had been slicked black with water when they first emerged from the waterfall, which was why the tribe cats hadn’t paid any attention to her. At last Brambleclaw had ordered them both inside the cave to rest.
“We’re leaving at dawn,” the ThunderClan warrior had told them. “You’ll need all your strength. Our Clans need us.”