“Feathertail? Squirrelpaw?” he mewed hoarsely.
“Over here.”
The reply was so faint, it was nearly lost in the endless pounding of the waterfall. Stormfur turned his head to see Squirrelpaw splayed out on the rock beside him, her dark ginger fur sodden.
“Got to sleep . . .” she muttered, closing her eyes.
Just beyond her, Stormfur could see Brambleclaw, stretched limply on his side. The ThunderClan warrior was staring up at the sky, his breathing fast and shallow. Crowpaw was on Stormfur’s other side; with a feeling of horror, he thought the WindClan apprentice was dead until he saw the faint rise and fall of his flank.
What about Feathertail and Tawnypelt? Beginning to panic, Stormfur struggled to sit up. At first he could not see either his sister or the tortoiseshell she-cat. Then a movement farther around the pool caught his eye. Near the waterfall, Feathertail was helping Tawnypelt out on to the rock. The ShadowClan warrior was tottering on three legs, and as soon as she reached solid ground she collapsed and lay without moving. Feathertail hauled herself out, her grey fur plastered to her sides so it looked almost black. She settled down beside Tawnypelt and gave her shoulder a couple of feeble licks.
“Thank StarClan!” Stormfur rasped aloud. “We all made it.”
He vaguely knew they had to find shelter, that if they went on lying here they were vulnerable to predators like the eagle, but he was too exhausted to move. He gave his drying fur a few licks, but even that was too much effort. He lay still, his senses drifting, his gaze fixed unseeingly on the rocks beside the pool.
As his senses gradually returned he noticed that they were lying in a curved bowl of rock, open on the side where the stream surged out of the pool and headed down the valley. Boulders covered the ground on either bank, a couple of spindly trees rooted among them. Light shivered on the water; the rain had almost stopped and the clouds were thinning out. Above Stormfur’s head, rainbows danced in the spray thrown up by the waterfall. A thin beam of sunlight splashed on the rocks a tail-length away from him; he dragged himself painfully into it and sighed with pleasure at the warmth on his fur.
A few heartbeats later he thought he saw a flash of movement. He blinked, straining to focus his eyes. For a moment all was still; then he caught another flicker on the far side of the pool. His fur prickled. They were being watched!
Stormfur narrowed his eyes, gazing hard at the boulders near the waterfall. “Brambleclaw,” he whispered. “Look over there.”
“What?” The ThunderClan warrior raised his head, peered around, and lay down again. “Can’t see anything.”
“There!” Stormfur hissed as movement flickered again, this time a tail-length closer. He flexed his claws, knowing how helpless he and his friends were to defend themselves.
Then a grey-brown shape detached itself from the rock and began padding toward him around the edge of the pool. It was a cat! Before Stormfur could move, another cat appeared and then another, a whole group of cats moving silently away from the rocks where they had been hidden, camouflaged against the boulders, as if they were carved from stone themselves. They sat on the edge of the pool, staring unblinkingly at the group of half-drowned travellers.
Stormfur swallowed hard. These cats were like none he had ever seen before, uniformly grey-brown with dull, flattened fur. Then one moved into the sunlight and he realised that their fur was covered with thick streaks of mud, helping them to blend into the rocks and hiding the real colour of their pelts.
Stormfur sat up, his muscles shrieking a protest. He prodded Squirrelpaw with one paw and whispered hoarsely, “Sit up very slowly. Whatever you do, don’t say anything out loud.”
Squirrelpaw lifted her head, then saw the watching cats and tried to scramble up with alarm flaring in her green eyes. Her movement disturbed Brambleclaw, who jumped up at once. Stormfur managed to get to his paws and stand beside him, thankful to have the strong ThunderClan warrior with him as they faced danger.
Brambleclaw glanced around for the other cats. “Feathertail, Tawnypelt—over here, now.” There was a commanding rasp in his voice, even though it shook with exhaustion. “You too, Crowpaw.”
Crowpaw struggled up, for once not arguing, and went to help Feathertail. Tawnypelt was leaning against her shoulder, hardly able to move. The three of them limped around the pool until they could bunch together with Stormfur and the others, their eyes wide and scared as they watched the strange cats.
Stormfur knew they were too shaken and exhausted to defend themselves. But in spite of his fear a pang of curiosity stabbed him. He wanted to know more about these strangers who looked so different from any other cats he had known. The thought even flashed through his mind that they might help with food and shelter—then he reminded himself that he and his friends were unlikely to be made welcome after trespassing on the strange cats’ territory, and the best they could expect was to be driven off.
He hardly dared to breathe as the first cat approached and studied them all carefully. Padding close to Stormfur, he gave him an especially long scrutiny, barely sparing a glance for the cats on the other side of him. Stormfur tried to meet the staring yellow eyes, wondering uneasily what it was about him that interested the mud-clad cat so much.
“Is this the one?” A tabby she-cat stepped forward eagerly. She spoke in the same language as the Clan cats, though the sound of the words was strange to Stormfur’s ears, and the question more confusing still. He watched her as she drew closer, her lithe body balancing easily on the slippery stones at the edge of the pool. “Is this what we’ve hoped for?” she persisted, reaching her Clanmate’s side.
The first cat’s head whipped round and he glared at the speaker. “Silence, Brook!” Turning back to Stormfur he asked roughly, “Who are you? Have you travelled far?”
Stormfur heard Tawnypelt mutter, “What are these—mud warriors? We’re more than a match for them,” and felt heartened by the ShadowClan cat’s abrasive courage.
“Yes, we’ve come a long way,” Squirrelpaw answered. “Can you help us?”
“Careful,” Brambleclaw interrupted with a warning look. To the strange cat he added, “We are travellers trying to cross the mountains. We’re not looking for trouble, but if you are enemies, we can fight.”
The cat narrowed his eyes. “We have no wish for fighting. Your journey has brought you to the Tribe of Rushing Water.”
“You are welcome if you come in friendship,” the tabby she-cat added, a glow in her amber eyes as she looked at Stormfur.
Stormfur remembered that Midnight the badger had spoken of cats who lived in Tribes instead of Clans. These must be the cats she meant, though she had said nothing to suggest the Clan cats would encounter them on their journey home. Surely she must have known that they would come across the Tribe as they crossed the mountains. Stormfur reminded himself that he had instinctively trusted Midnight; if the Tribe had been dangerous, she would have warned them, or told them to go the other way. Instead she had implied that this route had been laid down for them. Did that mean she thought that they were destined to meet the Tribe?
As the she-cat spoke, another of the strangers came padding up to look at Stormfur with a gleam in his eyes. “Come on, Crag,” he meowed to the first cat. “We should take this one to Stoneteller.”
“What?” Brambleclaw stepped forward to confront Crag, while Stormfur tensed his muscles in readiness for a fight. “You’re taking him nowhere without us. We want to talk to your leader.” As Crag motioned the other cat back with an angry flick of his tail, the ThunderClan warrior relaxed slightly. “We only want to travel in peace,” he went on. “My name is Brambleclaw of ThunderClan.”
Crag bowed his head while stretching out one paw, an odd but polite gesture. “My name is Crag Where Eagles Nest,” he announced.
“And I am Brook Where Small Fish Swim,” the tabby she-cat added, stretching out a paw as Crag had done.
Crag gave her a disapproving look, as if he was not happy that sh
e had put herself forward. His gaze flicked past Brambleclaw and rested again on Stormfur. “What is this one’s name?”
“I’m Stormfur.” He tried to push down the uncomfortable feeling that these cats’ fascination gave him. “I come from RiverClan.”
“Stormfur,” Crag repeated.
“I’m Squirrelpaw.” The tense moment was broken as the ThunderClan apprentice spoke up.
“And I’m Crowpaw.”
“I’m Feathertail, and this is Tawnypelt.” Stormfur’s sister fixed anxious blue eyes on Crag. “Please, can you help her? Her shoulder is badly injured.”
Brambleclaw glared at Feathertail with a hiss of disapproval; this was no time to be admitting weakness to strangers.
Instantly Crowpaw stepped forward. “She’s right,” he defended Feathertail. “This Clan might have a medicine cat who can help.”
“Your words are strange to us,” Crag responded. “But we will help. Come with us now and our leader will speak with you.”
“Hang on,” Crowpaw meowed. He was still shaky on his legs but he was obviously trying hard to sound fit to defend himself. “How far are we going?”
“Not far,” meowed Brook.
Stormfur glanced at the watching cats around the edge of the pool. “What else can we do, except go with them?” he murmured to Brambleclaw. “We need to rest.”
He said nothing of his own misgivings about Crag’s penetrating gaze. After all, any cat would stare if he found six half-drowned strangers in his territory.
Brambleclaw nodded. “All right,” he meowed to Crag. “We’ll come.”
“Good.” Crag led the way along the edge of the pool, leaped up the first few rocks beside the waterfall, and then vanished behind the sheet of foaming water.
Stormfur stared in astonishment, half expecting the strange cat to come hurtling down into the pool again, knocked off his paws by the waterfall.
Then Brook stepped forwards, gesturing with her tail. “This is the Path of the Rushing Water. Come—it is safe.”
The rest of the cats had risen to their paws and gathered around them; Stormfur felt uneasy that he and his friends were being herded after Crag as if they were prisoners. But he had no choice but to follow the mud-covered cats and scramble up the rocks. It was a hard climb after their fall, especially for Tawnypelt, who was limping heavily. Halfway up, she stumbled and almost slipped back into the pool, until Brook darted forward to steady her.
The ShadowClan warrior flinched away from her. “I’m fine,” she growled.
As Stormfur hauled himself up to where Crag had disappeared, he saw the Tribe cat waiting for him on a narrow ledge of rock leading behind the waterfall. A dark hole gaped at the end of it.
“I’m not going in there!” Squirrelpaw exclaimed.
“You’ll be fine.” Brambleclaw spoke reassuringly behind her.
“There is no danger,” Crag meowed, padding confidently along the path and standing at the mouth of the hole.
Stormfur swallowed. They had to trust these cats—there was no way they could make it through the mountains without food and rest. “Come on.”
Taking the lead, he edged along the path, pressing himself against the rock as far as possible from the sheet of thundering water. It was barely a tail-length away from him; spray misted his fur, and the rock underneath his paws was cold and slippery. Too tense to turn round, he could not be sure that the other cats were following him. He felt as if he were walking alone into endless, thundering darkness.
But the gaping hole led into a cave with steep rocky walls, stretching nearly to the top of the waterfall. Stormfur paused on the threshold, peering past Crag at soaring walls that ran with water. The scent of many more strange cats drifted out to him, hidden in the shadows around the edge of the cave.
“What’s in there?” Feathertail murmured nervously, trying to peer inside. She was shivering, her pelt so sodden that it looked almost as dark as Crowpaw’s.
Crowpaw brushed against her flank. “Whatever happens, we’ll be there together,” he murmured.
Stormfur suspected he was not supposed to hear that; he had to stop himself from spitting at Crowpaw or shooting an angry glare at his sister. There were far more pressing things to think about right now.
Crag waved his tail once again and padded into the cave, turning back to check that the others were behind him.
“I don’t like this,” Squirrelpaw muttered. “How do we know what we’re going to find in there?”
“We don’t,” Brambleclaw replied. “But we’ve got to face it. Everything on this journey happens for a reason. We owe it to the Clans to see this through.”
“We never thought it would be easy,” Stormfur agreed, trying to shake off the deep sense of dread that overcame him at the thought of setting paw inside the cave.
“Well, if we have to do it, let’s get on with it.” Crowpaw pushed forward and led the way inside.
Stormfur followed, the other cats crowding behind him. As he gazed around he heard Tawnypelt mew quietly, as much to reassure herself as the rest of them, “StarClan will be with us, even here.”
CHAPTER 8
“If a cat leaps at you, roll on to your back,” Cinderpelt instructed. “Then you can attack his belly with your claws. Try it.”
Leafpaw waited as her mentor crouched in front of her and then leaped into the air. Rolling over as Cinderpelt had told her, she dug her hind paws into the medicine cat’s belly and flung her off to one side.
“Good,” Cinderpelt meowed. She scrambled to her paws, awkward because of her injured leg. “That’s enough for now.”
The two cats had been training all morning in the sandy hollow, and though thick, grey clouds covered the sky Leafpaw’s rumbling belly told her it must be close to sunhigh. She had enjoyed the session with her mentor. The exercise had been a good distraction from her worries about the Clan and the Twolegs, not to mention Squirrelpaw and the other cats who were travelling with her.
She followed Cinderpelt down into the ravine. Before they reached the entrance to the gorse tunnel, Leafpaw heard a patrol returning close behind them. Turning, she saw Firestar, Dustpelt, and Sorreltail. Firestar looked more worried than ever, while Dustpelt’s brown tabby fur was bristling and his tail lashed furiously from side to side.
Cinderpelt limped over to meet Firestar, while Leafpaw hurried to Sorreltail’s side. “What in StarClan’s name is going on?”
“WindClan,” Sorreltail mewed, with a glance at the older warriors. “They’ve been stealing prey from us.”
Leafpaw remembered the thin, desperate cats who had chased them out of their territory, and knew that she was not surprised at the news.
“We found scraps of rabbit fur and bones by the stream near Fourtrees,” Sorreltail went on. “They reeked of WindClan scent.”
“It’s because their rabbits have vanished,” Leafpaw meowed. She pushed aside a guilty memory of how she had taken fish from RiverClan.
“It’s still against the warrior code,” Sorreltail pointed out. “Dustpelt was furious.”
“So I see,” meowed Leafpaw.
She followed her friend down the gorse tunnel to find Firestar and Dustpelt standing beside the fresh-kill pile. Her belly lurched when she saw how small it was.
“Look at it!” Dustpelt gestured with his tail. “How is that going to feed the Clan? You’ll have to do something about WindClan, Firestar.”
Firestar shook his head. “We all know that Tallstar wouldn’t allow his warriors to steal prey unless his Clan was in real trouble.”
“Tallstar might not know what’s going on. Besides, ThunderClan is in trouble too. It’s not as if we have prey to spare.”
“I know,” Firestar sighed.
“I’m worried about Ferncloud,” the brown warrior added. “She’s already lost a lot of weight, and she still has three kits to feed.”
“If this goes on, I’ll have to start rationing,” Firestar decided. “But meanwhile, we will do something about
Wind -Clan, I promise.”
Whirling round, he bounded across the clearing and leaped to the top of the Highrock. As he yowled out the summons, the rest of the Clan began to appear at once. Leafpaw was shocked to see how lean they were; she had never really noticed before the gradual change from day to day as prey got harder to find. But now they looked more like skinny WindClan cats than sturdy, forest-born ThunderClan warriors. Dustpelt was right that Ferncloud in particular looked gaunt and exhausted; her kits were thinner, too, and they trailed after their mother as if they had no energy left to play. Were all the Clans—apart from RiverClan—slowly going to starve?
Leafpaw listened anxiously as Firestar told the rest of the Clan what the patrol had discovered. Wails of indignation broke out at the news that WindClan cats had trespassed on to ThunderClan territory and stolen prey.
“WindClan needs to be taught a lesson!” Cloudtail called out. “I haven’t had the sniff of a rabbit for days.”
“We should attack now,” Mousefur put in, her brown fur bristling.
“No,” Firestar meowed firmly. “Things are bad enough without us looking for a battle.”
Mousefur didn’t argue, though she muttered something under her breath, and Cloudtail lashed his tail. Leafpaw saw Brightheart meow a few words to him, trying to calm him down.
“What are you going to do?” Speckletail called out from the entrance to the elders’ den. “Go and ask them nicely not to steal our food? Do you think they’ll take any notice?”
More voices were raised in protest, with more than one cat echoing Mousefur’s demand to attack.
“No,” Firestar repeated. “I’m going to talk to Tallstar. He’s a noble, trustworthy cat; maybe he doesn’t know that his warriors have been stealing prey.”
“And what good will talking do?” Cloudtail snorted. “Blackstar didn’t listen when you went to talk to him.”
“If you ask me,” Speckletail rasped, “you’re crossing Clan boundaries far too often. The last cat to ignore borders like that was Tigerstar.”