Even though he would never have asked the question, Stormfur waited tensely for Midnight’s reply. She had told them so much already about the threat to the forest and how they must go home and lead the Clans to safety. If they did not trust her, they and all their Clanmates would be helpless in the face of destruction. Could she have warned them about the foxes?
For a moment the badger loomed over the WindClan apprentice, her black eyes furious. Crowpaw could not hide a flash of alarm in his eyes, though to his credit he did not back down. Then Midnight relaxed. “I not say everything. Everything indeed StarClan not want me to say. Much, yes, how Twolegs tear up forest, leave no place for cats to stay. But many answers lie within ourselves. This you have already learned, no?”
“I suppose,” Crowpaw muttered.
Midnight turned away from him. “Foxes say you must go now,” she told the cats. “If you still here at sunset, they attack. That dog fox, he says he tasted cat once, liked it fine.”
“Well, he’s not going to taste it again!” snapped Tawnypelt.
“We have to leave anyway,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “And we’re not looking for trouble from foxes. Let’s go.”
They paused for a few moments to gulp down the rest of the prey. Then Midnight took the lead, and brought them after a short time to the edge of the forest. The sun was dipping below the trees, and where they stood was already in shadow. In front of them, Stormfur saw yet more open moorland, with a range of mountains in the distance; over to one side were the hard reddish shapes of the Twolegplace they had travelled through on the outward journey.
“Which way now?” he asked.
Midnight raised one paw to point straight ahead. “That quickest way, path where sun rises.”
“It’s not the way we came,” Brambleclaw mewed uneasily. “We came through Twolegplace.”
“And I’m not going back there!” Crowpaw put in. “I’ll climb as many mountains as you like before I face all those Twolegs again.”
“I’m not sure,” Feathertail meowed. “At least we know the way through Twolegplace, and we’ve got Purdy to help us.”
Crowpaw replied only with a contemptuous snort. Stormfur half agreed with him; they had spent many frightening, hungry days wandering in Twolegplace, and Purdy had seemed as lost as any of them. But the mountains were unfamiliar too; even from here, Stormfur could see that their upper slopes were bare grey rock, with a streak of white here and there that must be the first snow of the approaching leaf-bare. They were far higher than Highstones, and he wondered how much shelter or prey they would find there.
“I agree with Feathertail,” he meowed at last. “We made it through Twolegplace once, so we can do it again.”
Brambleclaw glanced from one to another, undecided. “What do you think, Tawnypelt?”
His sister shrugged. “Whatever you like. There’ll be problems whichever way we go; we all know that.”
True enough, Stormfur thought grimly.
“Well, I think—” Squirrelpaw began, and broke off with a gasp. Her green eyes had widened with an expression of horror; they seemed to be fixed on something in the distance that no other cat could see.
“Squirrelpaw? What’s the matter?” Brambleclaw meowed urgently.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Squirrelpaw gave herself a shake. “Just make your mind up, Brambleclaw, and let’s be off. I want to go that way if it’s the quickest route—” She flicked her tail towards the distant mountains. “We’ll waste days and days going through Twolegplace again.”
Stormfur’s whiskers began to tingle. Squirrelpaw was right. They already knew that the route among the Twoleg nests was confusing and difficult. What dangers could there be in the mountains that could be worse than the rats and monsters they knew they would meet in Twolegplace? All that mattered was to get back to the forest without delay.
“I think she’s got a point,” he meowed. “I’ve changed my mind. I vote we should go through the mountains.”
Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger tail twitched to and fro, and she flexed her claws into the grass. “Well?” she spat at Brambleclaw. “Are you going to make up your mind or not?”
Brambleclaw took a deep breath. “OK, the mountains it is.”
“Eh? Wha’?” Purdy had been scratching one ear with his hind paw. But when Brambleclaw made his decision he looked up in alarm, blinking his wide amber eyes. “You can’t go that way. It’s dangerous. What about the—”
“Danger is all around,” Midnight broke in, silencing Purdy with a fierce glare. “Your friends great courage will need. The path has been laid out for them in the stars.”
Stormfur shot a sharp look at the old tabby. What had Purdy been trying to say when Midnight interrupted him? Did he know of some particular danger in the mountains? And if so, why had Midnight stopped him from telling the rest of them? He thought that he could see wisdom in her face, and something like regret. Just what did she mean by “the path has been laid out”?
“Choice is hard, young warrior.” The badger spoke in a low tone to Brambleclaw. Stormfur edged a pace closer so that he could hear. “Your path before you lies, and many challenges you will have to return safe home.”
Brambleclaw gazed into the badger’s eyes for a long moment before padding forwards a few paces across the moorland. Whatever these challenges might be, he seemed ready to face them, and Stormfur couldn’t help admiring his resolve, even though he came from a rival Clan. When Purdy scrambled to his feet to follow, Midnight put out a paw to hold him back.
The old tom bristled, his amber eyes glaring. “Get out o’ my way,” he rasped.
Midnight did not move. “With them you cannot go,” she rumbled. “The way is theirs alone.” Her black eyes gleamed in the dusk. “Young and rash they are, and tests will be many. Their own courage they need, my friend, not yours. Too much on you they would rely.”
Purdy blinked. “Well, if you put it like that . . .”
Feathertail darted up to him and gave his ears a quick lick. “We’ll never forget you, Purdy, or everything you’ve done for us.”
Just behind her, Crowpaw opened his mouth with his eyes narrowed, as if he was about to say something cutting. Stormfur froze him with a glare. He doubted they would see the old cat again, and although Purdy had made mistakes, he had stood by them and brought them safely to Midnight in the end.
“Goodbye, Purdy. And thank you. We could never have found Midnight without you.” Brambleclaw echoed Stormfur’s thoughts. “And thank you, too, Midnight.”
The badger inclined her head. “Farewell, my friends. May StarClan light your path.”
The rest of the cats said their own goodbyes, and began to follow Brambleclaw out on to the moor. Stormfur brought up the rear. Glancing back, he saw Midnight and Purdy sitting side by side under the outlying trees, watching them go. It was impossible to read their expressions in the gathering dusk. Stormfur waved his tail in a last farewell, and turned his face toward the mountains.
CHAPTER 4
At Firestar’s yowl of command, Brackenfur and the grey ShadowClan warrior broke apart. Greystripe looked up from the tabby, but still kept a paw firmly on his neck.
“Let him go,” Firestar ordered. “We’re not here to fight.”
“It’s hard to do anything else when they jump us like that,” Greystripe hissed. He stepped back, and the skinny tabby scrambled to his paws and shook his ruffled fur.
Leafpaw bounded across the marshy ground to stand beside Cinderpelt, half afraid that Russetfur might still attack the medicine cat. ShadowClan’s deputy was not likely to take orders from the leader of a rival Clan.
Russetfur flicked her tail towards the dark grey tom. “Cedarheart, get back to camp. Warn Blackstar that we have been invaded, and fetch more warriors.”
The grey warrior streaked off into the bushes.
“There’s no need for that,” Firestar pointed out, keeping his voice mild. “We’re not invading your territory, and we’re not trying to steal prey.?
??
“Then what do you want?” Russetfur demanded bad-temperedly. “What are we supposed to think when you trespass on our territory?”
“I’m sorry about that.” Firestar leaped down from the tree trunk and padded across to her. “I . . . I know we shouldn’t be here. It’s just that I have to speak to Blackstar. Something has happened, something that’s too urgent to wait for the next Gathering.”
Russetfur sniffed disbelievingly, but sheathed her claws. Leafpaw felt her racing heart begin to slow down. The ShadowClan deputy was too badly outnumbered to launch another attack, especially when she had sent away the grey tom, Cedarheart.
“What’s so urgent then?” she growled.
Firestar gestured with his tail through the sparse trees, towards the swath of destruction that the Twoleg monster had left on this side of the Thunderpath. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked desperately.
Russetfur silenced him with a furious hiss. “If you think ShadowClan is weakened . . .”
“I didn’t say that,” Firestar protested. “But you must have seen that we’ve had the same trouble in our territory. Now, are you going to drive us off, or are you going to let us talk to Blackstar?”
Russetfur narrowed her eyes, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Follow me.”
She led the way through the bushes. The ThunderClan cats bunched together behind her, and the tabby ShadowClan warrior brought up the rear. Leafpaw’s heart began to pound again as the scents of the strange territory flowed around her. Even the day had grown darker, clouds covering the sun so that their path was shadowed. She tried to stop herself from jumping at every sound, or staring around as if there might be a ShadowClan warrior lurking behind every tree.
Soon Leafpaw became aware of a stronger ShadowClan scent coming from up ahead. Russetfur led the way around a thick clump of hazel; following her, Leafpaw stopped dead in front of a long line of cats—lean warriors with their muscles tensed and the light of battle in their eyes. Behind them rose a tangled wall of brambles.
“That’s the ShadowClan camp,” Cinderpelt muttered close to Leafpaw’s ear. “It doesn’t look as if Blackstar is going to invite us in.”
The ShadowClan leader stood in the middle of his warriors. He was a huge white cat with black paws; his pelt showed the scars of many battles. As the ThunderClan cats appeared he stepped forward and faced Firestar with narrowed eyes.
“What’s this?” His voice was rough. “Does the great Firestar think he can go where he likes in the forest?”
Firestar ignored the contempt in Blackstar’s tone, simply dipping his head in the courteous greeting of one leader to another. “I have come to talk to you about what the Twolegs are doing,” he began. “We have to decide what we’re going to do if it carries on.”
“We? What do you mean, we? ShadowClan does not talk with ThunderClan,” Blackstar retorted. “We make our own decisions.”
“But the forest is being destroyed!”
Leafpaw heard the exasperation in her leader’s tone, and knew how hard it was for Firestar to stay calm when the ShadowClan leader insisted on treating him like an enemy.
The ShadowClan leader shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Firestar, you’re panicking over nothing. Twolegs are mad. Even the smallest kit knows that. True, they knocked down a few trees—but now they’ve gone away again. Whatever was going on, it’s over.”
Leafpaw wondered if Blackstar really believed that. Surely he couldn’t be such a fool? Or was this just a show of bravado to convince Firestar that ShadowClan had nothing to worry about?
“And if it’s not over?” Firestar asked steadily. “If it gets worse? Prey has been frightened away from where the Twolegs have been. What if the Twolegs claw up more of our territories? What will you do in leaf-bare, Blackstar, if you can’t feed your Clan?”
One or two of the ShadowClan warriors looked uneasy, but their leader stared defiantly at Firestar.
“We have no reason to fear leaf-bare,” he meowed. “We can always eat rats from Carrionplace.”
Cinderpelt twitched her ears impatiently. “Have you forgotten what happened last time you tried that? Half your Clan died from sickness.”
“That’s true.” A small tabby tom, crouched at the end of the line, spoke up boldly. Leafpaw recognised Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I was ill myself. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you, Cinderpelt.”
“Be quiet, Littlecloud,” Blackstar ordered. “The sickness was a punishment from StarClan because Nightstar was not a properly chosen leader. There’s no danger in eating food from Carrionplace now.”
“There’s danger if a leader silences his medicine cat,” Cinderpelt retorted tartly. “Or pretends to know more than they do about the will of StarClan.”
Blackstar glared at her, but said nothing.
“Listen to me,” Firestar began again desperately. “I believe that great trouble is coming to the forest, trouble that we’ll survive only if we work together.”
“Mouse dung!” Blackstar snarled. “Don’t try to tell me what to do, Firestar. I’m not one of your warriors. If you have anything to say, you should do what we have always done, and bring it to the next Gathering at Fourtrees.”
Part of Leafpaw felt that the ShadowClan leader was right. The warrior code dictated that the business of the forest should be discussed at Gatherings. There was nowhere else that cats could meet under the sacred truce of StarClan. At the same time, she knew that the Twolegs wouldn’t wait until after the next full moon to continue their destruction of the forest. What else might happen by the time of the next Gathering?
“Very well, Blackstar.” Firestar’s voice was hollow with defeat. It’s happening, Leafpaw thought in panic. He’s giving up. The forest is going to be destroyed. “If that’s the way you want it. But if the Twolegs come back, you have my permission to send a messenger into ThunderClan territory, and we will talk again.”
“Generous as always, Firestar.” Blackstar meowed scornfully. “But nothing’s going to happen that we can’t handle ourselves.”
“Mouse-brain!” Greystripe hissed.
Firestar shot Greystripe a warning glance, but the ShadowClan leader did not reply. Instead, he swept his tail towards Russetfur.
“Take some warriors and escort these cats off our territory,” he ordered. “And in case you were thinking of paying us another uninvited visit,” he added to Firestar, “we’ll be increasing our patrols along that border. Now go.”
There was nothing to do but obey. Firestar turned and signalled to his own cats to follow him. Russetfur and her warriors gathered around them in a threatening semicircle, letting them walk away but keeping them bunched tightly together. Leafpaw was glad when the tunnel under the Thunderpath came into sight, and more relieved still to be through it and heading for their own part of the forest.
“And don’t come back!” Russetfur spat as they crossed the border.
“We won’t!” Greystripe hurled a parting shot over his shoulder. “We were only trying to help, you stupid furball.”
“Leave it, Greystripe.” Now that they were back in their own territory, Firestar let his disappointment show. Leafpaw felt a sharp stab of compassion for him; it wasn’t his fault that ShadowClan had refused to listen to reason.
“Maybe we should try talking to WindClan?” she suggested quietly to Cinderpelt as the patrol headed for camp. “Perhaps they’ve had trouble too. That could be why they’ve been stealing fish from RiverClan.” She was referring to the furious accusations made by Hawkfrost, a RiverClan warrior, at the last Gathering.
“If they have. It was never proved,” Cinderpelt reminded her. “All the same, Leafpaw, you might have a point. Ravenpaw said there were more Twolegs than usual on that part of the Thunderpath.”
“Then perhaps Firestar should talk to Tallstar?”
“I don’t think Firestar will be talking to any more Clan leaders for a while,” Cinderpelt meowed, with a sympathetic glance at the flame-coloured to
m. “Besides, Tallstar is a proud leader. He’d never admit that his Clan is starving.”
“But Firestar has to do something!”
“Perhaps Blackstar was right, and he should wait for the Gathering. But if I get the chance”—Cinderpelt interrupted her apprentice’s protest—“I’ll have a word with him.” She lifted her blue gaze to the cloud-covered sky. “And let’s just pray that StarClan has mercy on us, whatever happens.”
“Sorreltail, are you there?”
Leafpaw stood outside the warriors’ den and tried to peer through the branches. It was early the following morning; a thick fog covered the camp and misted her fur with tiny droplets of water.
“Sorreltail?” she repeated.
There was a scuffling sound inside the den, and Sorreltail poked her head out, blinking sleep from her eyes.
“Leafpaw?” Her jaws gaped wide in a yawn. “What’s the matter? The sun’s not up yet. I was having this terrific dream about a mouse . . .”
“Sorry,” Leafpaw mewed. “But I want you to do something with me. Are you due to go out with the dawn patrol?”
“No.” Sorreltail squeezed out between the branches and gave the fur on her shoulders a quick lick. “What’s all this about?”
Leafpaw took a deep breath. “I want to go and visit WindClan. Will you come with me?”
Sorreltail’s eyes stretched wide, and her tail curled up in surprise. “What if we meet a WindClan patrol?”
“It should be OK—I’m a medicine cat apprentice, so I’m allowed to go into the territories between here and Highstones. Please, Sorreltail! I really need to know whether WindClan is having trouble too.” Though she couldn’t tell Sorreltail, Leafpaw knew that a cat from every Clan had been chosen by StarClan for the journey. Because of that, she suspected that every Clan would be invaded by the Twolegs, but she wanted to be sure.
The light of adventure was already sparkling in Sorreltail’s eyes. “I’m up for it,” she declared. “Let’s get a move on, before any cat catches us and starts asking questions.”