Copyright

HarperCollinsChildren's Books

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in the USA by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2005

Copyright © Working Partners Limited 2005

Series created by Working Partners Limited.

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Source ISBN: 9780007419272

Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780007460021

Version: 2019-01-04

Dedication

To Rod Ritchie,who first figured out what really goes on beyond the garden fence . . .

Special thanks to Cherith Baldry

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Allegiances

Maps

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Author

Also by Erin Hunter

About the Publisher

Allegiances

| THUNDERCLAN
LEADER | FIRESTAR—ginger tom with a flame-coloured pelt
DEPUTY | GREYSTRIPE—long-haired grey tom
MEDICINE CAT | LEAFPOOL—light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes
WARRIORS | (toms, and she-cats without kits)
| DUSTPELT—dark brown tabby tom
| SANDSTORM—pale ginger she-cat
| CLOUDTAIL—long-haired white tom
| BRACKENFUR—golden brown tabby tom APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW
| THORNCLAW—golden brown tabby tom
| BRIGHTHEART—white she-cat with ginger patches
| BRAMBLECLAW—dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes
| ASHFUR—pale grey (with darker flecks) tom, dark blue eyes apprentice, birchpaw
| RAINWHISKER—dark grey tom with blue eyes
| SQUIRRELFLIGHT—dark ginger she-cat with green eyes
| SPIDERLEG—long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes
APPRENTICES | (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)
| WHITEPAW—white she-cat with green eyes
| BIRCHPAW—light brown tabby tom
QUEENS | (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)
| FERNCLOUD—pale grey (with darker flecks) she-cat, green eyes, mother of Dustpelt’s kits
| SORRELTAIL—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes
| DAISY—cream-coloured, long-furred cat from the horseplace
ELDERS | (former warriors and queens, now retired)
| GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger coat, the oldest nursery queen
| LONGTAIL—pale tabby tom with dark black stripes, retired early due to failing sight
| MOUSEFUR—small dusky brown she-cat
| SHADOWCLAN
LEADER | BLACKSTAR—large white tom with huge jet-black paws
DEPUTY | RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat
MEDICINE CAT | LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom
WARRIORS | (toms, and she-cats without kits)
| OAKFUR—small brown tom APPRENTICE, SMOKEPAW
| CEDARHEART—dark grey tom
| ROWANCLAW—ginger tom
| TAWNYPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
QUEENS | (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)
| TALLPOPPY—long-legged light brown tabby she-cat
ELDERS | (former warriors and queens, now retired)
| BOULDER—skinny grey tom
| WINDCLAN
LEADER | ONESTAR—brown tabby tom
DEPUTY | ASHFOOT—grey she-cat
MEDICINE CAT | BARKFACE—short-tailed brown tom
WARRIORS | (toms, and she-cats without kits)
| TORNEAR—tabby tom
| WEBFOOT—dark grey tabby tom
| CROWFEATHER—dark grey tom
| OWLWHISKER—light brown tabby tom
| NIGHTCLOUD—black she-cat
| WEASELFUR—ginger tom with white paws
QUEENS | (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)
| WHITETAIL—small white she-cat
ELDERS | (former warriors and queens, now retired)
| MORNINGFLOWER—tortoiseshell queen
| RUSHTAIL—light brown tom
| RIVERCLAN
LEADER | LEOPARDSTAR—unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat
DEPUTY | MISTYFOOT—grey she-cat with blue eyes
MEDICINE CAT | MOTHWING—dappled golden she-cat APPRENTICE, WILLOWPAW
WARRIORS | (toms, and she-cats without kits)
| BLACKCLAW—smoky black tom APPRENTICE, BEECHPAW
| HAWKFROST—dark brown tom with a white underbelly and ice-blue eyes
| VOLETOOTH—small brown tabby tom
| SWALLOWTAIL—dark tabby she-cat
| STONESTREAM—grey tom
| REEDWHISKER—black tom APPRENTICE, RIPPLEPAW
QUEENS | (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)
| MOSSPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes
| DAWNFLOWER—pale grey she-cat
ELDERS | (former warriors and queens, now retired)
| HEAVYSTEP—thickset tabby tom
| THE TRIBE OF RUSHING WATER
| BROOK WHERE SMALL FISH SWIM (BROOK)—brown tabby she-cat
| STORMFUR—dark grey tom with amber eyes
| OTHER ANIMALS
| SMOKY—muscular grey and white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace
| FLOSS—small grey and white she-cat who lives at the horseplace
| PIP—black and white terrier who lives with Twolegs near the horseplace
| MIDNIGHT—a stargazing badger who lives by the sea

Maps

Prologue

Night lay heavily over the forest. No wind stirred the long grass at the edge of the path where a massive tabby cat stalked through the shadows. He paused, ears pricked, amber eyes narrowed. No moon or stars shone in the sky above his head but tree trunks thick with fungus shed an eerie glow on the bare earth beneath his paws.

The huge tom opened his jaws to draw in air, though he did not expect to taste the scent of prey. He knew that the twitching of the ferns meant nothing, and the flickering scraps of darkness that he could see from the corner of his eye would vanish like mist if he pounced on them. There was no hunger in this place, but he longed for the sensation of claws sinking into prey and the first warm bite of fresh-kill after a successful hunt.

The fur on his neck and shoulders rose as a new scent drifted towards him: the scent of cat, but not the two he had met here before. This was a different cat, a cat he knew from long ago. He stalked forward, following the scent, until the trees thinned out and he stood at the edge of a clearing washed by sickly light. The other cat came bounding across the open space to meet him, ears flattened and eyes wild with terror.

“Tigerstar!” he gasped, sliding to a halt and cowering to the ground. “Where did you come from? I thought I was alone here.”

“Get up, Darkstripe.” The tabby tom’s voice was a rumble of disgust. “Stop cringing like a terrified kit.”

Darkstripe rose to his paws and gave his fur a couple of quick licks. Once sleek like a well-fed fish, his pelt was now thin and tangled with burrs. “I don’t understand this place,” he meowed. “Where are we? Where are StarClan?”

“StarClan do not walk here.”

Darkstripe’s eyes stretched wide. “Why not? And why is it always dark here? Where is the moon?” A shiver ran through him. “I thought we would be hunting across the sky with our warrior ancestors, and watching over our Clanmates.”

Tigerstar let out a faint hiss. “That way is not for us. But I don’t need starlight to follow my path. If StarClan think they can forget about us, they’re wrong.”

He turned his back on Darkstripe, shouldering his way through the ferns without waiting to see whether the other cat followed him or not.

“Wait,” Darkstripe panted, scrambling after him. “Tell me what you mean.”

The massive tabby glanced back, his amber eyes reflecting the pale light. “Firestar thought he won when Scourge took my nine lives. He is a fool. What lies between us is not over yet.”

“But what can you do to Firestar now?” Darkstripe protested. “You can’t leave this forest. I know—I’ve tried. But however far I walk, the trees never end, and there’s no light anywhere.”

Tigerstar did not reply at once. He padded on through the undergrowth with Darkstripe following close behind. The smaller cat started at every rustle among the ferns and every flickering shadow that fell across his path. Once he halted, eyes staring, jaws open to taste the air.

“I can scent Brokenstar!” he exclaimed. “Is he here too? Brokenstar, where are you?”

Tigerstar stopped and looked back. “Save your breath. Brokenstar won’t answer you. You will sense traces of many cats here, but seldom will you meet one face-to-face. We may be trapped in one place, but we are trapped alone.”

“Then how do you expect to deal with Firestar?” Darkstripe asked. “He doesn’t even walk this forest.”

“I won’t deal with him.” Tigerstar’s voice was a soft, threatening growl. “My sons will. Together, Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw will show Firestar that the battle is far from won.”

Darkstripe’s gaze flickered to his former leader’s face and away again. “But how can you make Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw do what you want?”

Tigerstar silenced him with a single lash of his tail. His claws flexed in and out, scoring the earth beneath his paws. “I have learned to walk in the paths of their dreams,” he hissed. “And I have time. All the time in the world. When they have destroyed that mangy kittypet, I’ll make them leaders of their Clans, and show them what true power is.”

Darkstripe flinched back into the shelter of a clump of bracken. “They couldn’t have a better teacher,” he meowed.

“They will learn the best fighting skills in the forest,” Tigerstar went on, as if the other cat had not spoken. “They will learn to have no mercy on any cat who tries to oppose them. And in the end, they will divide the entire territory around the lake between them.”

“But there are four Clans—”

“And soon there will be only two. Two Clans of purebred warriors, not weakened by kittypets and halfClan cats. Firestar has already taken in that useless lump of fur from the horseplace, and her whining kits. Is that any way to lead a Clan?”

Darkstripe bowed his head, ears flattened in agreement.

“Hawkfrost is fearless,” Tigerstar growled approvingly. “He proved that when he drove a badger out of RiverClan’s territory. And he showed great wisdom when he helped his sister become a medicine cat. Her support will smooth his path to leadership, and Hawkfrost knows that. He knows that power comes only to those who want it most.”

“Yes, he’s truly your son.” The words spilled out of Darkstripe like rainwater from an upturned leaf, but if Tigerstar was aware of any edge to them, he ignored it.

“As for Brambleclaw . . .” Tigerstar narrowed his eyes. “He has courage too, but he is troubled by his loyalty to that fool Firestar. He must learn to allow nothing—not his leader, not the warrior code, not StarClan themselves—to stand in his way. He earned the respect of every cat when he made the journey to the sun-drown-place and led the Clans to their new home. His reputation alone should make it easy for him to take control.” He straightened, his powerful shoulder muscles rippling. “I will show him how.”

“I could help you,” Darkstripe offered.

Tigerstar turned on him with a look of cold contempt. “I need no help. Did you not hear me say that every cat walks this dark forest alone?”

Darkstripe shivered. “But it’s so empty and silent . . . Tigerstar, let me come with you.”

“No.” There was a hint of regret in Tigerstar’s voice, but no hesitation. “Don’t try to follow me. Cats have no friends or allies here. They must walk their path of shadows alone.”

Darkstripe sat up, curling his tail over his forepaws. “Where are you going now?”

“To meet my sons.” He bounded away down the path, his fur gleaming in the pale yellowish light. Darkstripe was left behind, crouching in the shadow of the ferns.

Before Tigerstar vanished into the trees he glanced back to make one last promise. “Firestar will learn that my time is not yet over. He may have seven lives left to lose, but I will stalk him through my sons until every one has been ripped from him. This is one battle that he will not win.”

Chapter 1

Brambleclaw stood in the middle of the clearing, gazing at what was left of the ThunderClan camp. A crescent moon, thin as a claw, drifted above the trees that surrounded the stone hollow. Its pale light revealed the dens trampled down, the thorn barrier at the camp entrance broken and tossed aside, and the wounded cats of ThunderClan slowly creeping from the shadows, their fur bristling and their eyes stretched wide with shock. Brambleclaw could still hear the trampling of the badgers as they lumbered away. The undergrowth beyond the entrance quivered where they had pushed through, driven off with the help of Onestar and the WindClan warriors who had come just in time to help ThunderClan.

But it wasn’t the sight of devastation that prickled Brambleclaw’s pelt and kept his paws frozen to the ground. Two cats he had never thought he’d see again were picking their way carefully among the scattered thorns of the entrance barrier. They were uninjured, their pelts sleek and their eyes alight with alarm.

“Stormfur! What are you doing here?” Brambleclaw called.

The powerful grey tomcat paced forward until he could touch noses with Brambleclaw. “It’s good to see you again,” he meowed. “I . . . I wanted to see if you’d found a place to live. But what has happened here?”

“Badgers,” Brambleclaw replied. He glanced around, wondering where to begin helping his wounded and frightened Clanmates.

Beside Stormfur, the slender brown tabby she-cat brushed her tail against a long scratch on Brambleclaw’s shoulder. “You’re hurt,” she mewed.

Brambleclaw twitched his ears. “It’s nothing. Welcome to ThunderClan, Brook. I’m sorry you had to travel so far to find us like this.” He paused and looked from one to the other. “Is everything all right in the Tribe of Rushing Water? I never expected you to come and visit us so soon.”

Stormfur shot a glance at Brook, so swift Brambleclaw almost missed it. “Everything’s fine,” he meowed. “We just wanted to be sure you had found a new place to live, like StarClan promised.”

Brambleclaw looked around the devastated camp, the stricken cats stumbling through the remains of their home. “Yes, we found it,” he murmured.

“You said badgers attacked you?” Brook prompted, sounding puzzled.

“They came here on purpose,” Brambleclaw explained. “StarClan knows where they came from, more badgers than I’ve ever seen in my life. They would have killed us all if WindClan hadn’t turned up.” His paws trembled, and he sank his claws into the bloodstained earth to keep himself steady.

Stormfur nodded. “Don’t worry about telling us everything now. What can we do to help?”

Brambleclaw sent a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan that they had chosen this moment to send his old friend back to the Clans. He and Stormfur had been through a lot together on the first journey to the sun-drown-place, and he could think of few cats he’d rather have beside him now.

He turned his head as a thin wail came from a trampled clump of ferns at the edge of the hollow. “We need to find all the cats that have been badly wounded. Some will be on their way to join StarClan,” he warned, glancing at Brook. “The badgers came to kill, not drive us out.”

Brook met his gaze steadily. “Whatever they have done, I want to help. I have seen this kind of savagery before from Sharptooth, remember?” Sharptooth was a giant mountain cat that had terrorised the Tribe of Rushing Water for many moons, until the cats from the forest arrived. Stormfur’s sister, Feathertail, had died in the fall that killed the savage animal.

“We’ll do whatever we have to,” Stormfur promised. “Just tell us what to do. Are you ThunderClan’s deputy now?”

Brambleclaw studied a fragment of moss that was trapped under his front paw. “No,” he admitted. “Firestar has decided not to appoint another deputy. He wants to give Greystripe more time to come back.”

“That’s tough.” There was a note of sympathy in Stormfur’s voice that made Brambleclaw wince. He didn’t want any cat’s pity.

Suddenly Brook froze. “I thought you said the badgers had gone,” she hissed.

Brambleclaw whipped around, then relaxed as he saw a familiar, pointed, black-and-white face pushing its way out of a clump of dead bracken.

Stormfur touched Brook’s shoulder lightly with his tail. “That’s Midnight,” he meowed. “She wouldn’t hurt any cat .” He bounded forward to meet the elderly badger.

Midnight peered at Stormfur with short-sighted eyes. Then she gave a small nod. “Cat friend from journey,” she rumbled. “Good it is to see you again. And this cat from mountain Tribe, is she not?” she added, gesturing with her snout towards Brook.

“That’s right,” Stormfur meowed. “This is Brook, a prey-hunter from the Tribe of Rushing Water.” He beckoned Brook forward with his tail; she went over reluctantly, as if she couldn’t quite believe this badger was friendly. Brambleclaw understood her feelings; he knew Midnight as well as any cat, but it was hard not to look at her bulky shape without remembering snapping jaws, fierce gleaming eyes, and claws that shredded cats’ fur like leaves in newleaf . . .

There was the sound of heavy paws, and he looked up to see Midnight standing beside him. Grief and anger sparked from her berry-bright eyes. “Too late my warning,” she rasped. “Not enough could I do.”

“You brought WindClan to help us,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “Without you, our whole Clan would have been wiped out.”

Midnight bowed her head, the white stripe that ran the length of her snout gleaming in the faint moonlight. “Shame for my kin I feel.”

“Every cat knows this attack had nothing to do with you,” Brambleclaw told her. “You will always be welcome in this Clan.”

Midnight still looked troubled. Behind her, Brambleclaw spotted his Clan leader near the centre of the clearing, with Onestar and the WindClan warriors. He padded towards them, motioning with his tail for Stormfur and Brook to follow. A fox-length away, in the shelter of an upturned thorn-bush, Leafpool was bending over the limp body of Ashfur. For a heartbeat Brambleclaw wondered if the grey warrior was dead, until he saw Ashfur’s tail twitch. StarClan shall not take all our warriors tonight, he thought determinedly.

Firestar’s chest still heaved from the effort of fighting. His flame-coloured pelt was torn, and blood was oozing from a long scratch along his flank. Brambleclaw felt a flash of concern. Had his leader lost another life? Whether he had or not, he was badly hurt. I will help him until my last breath, Brambleclaw vowed. Together, we can bring the Clan through this until we are even stronger than before.

In spite of his injuries, Firestar’s eyes were bright and he sat up straight as he faced the WindClan leader, Onestar. “The thanks of all ThunderClan go with you,” he meowed.

“I doubt you’ll have any more trouble with the badgers,” Onestar replied. “But I can leave a couple of warriors behind to keep watch, if you like.”

“No thanks, I don’t think we’ll need them.” The warmth in Firestar’s eyes revealed the long friendship between these two cats. Brambleclaw silently thanked StarClan that the tension between them, which everyone had felt since Onestar became WindClan leader, seemed to be over at last. “Do your warriors need the help of our medicine cat before you go?” the ThunderClan leader added. “If any of them are badly injured, they’re welcome to stay here.”

Brambleclaw glanced across at Leafpool, who was still crouched beside Ashfur. When she heard Firestar, she raised her head and stared across the clearing at the WindClan warriors. Brambleclaw felt a stab of sympathy as her gaze sought out one in particular. Two days ago, Crowfeather and Leafpool had abandoned their Clans so that they could be together, but news of the badger attack had brought them home again. Brambleclaw hoped that Leafpool had come home for good; ThunderClan needed her more than ever now that so many cats had been wounded in the badger attack.

Crowfeather was staring down at his paws as if he was deliberately avoiding Leafpool’s gaze. Fur was missing from a broad scratch on his flank, but the wound had stopped bleeding and he stood with his weight on all four paws. Webfoot had a torn ear, and the WindClan deputy Ashfoot was bleeding from one shoulder, but none of the wounds looked serious enough to stop the warriors from returning to the WindClan camp.

“I think we’re all fit to travel, thank StarClan,” Onestar answered the ThunderClan leader. “If you’re sure you don’t need our help any more, we’ll return to our own territory now.”

Crowfeather raised his head and shot one despairing glance at Leafpool. She scrambled to her paws, leaving Ashfur, and padded across to meet the WindClan warrior. They stood a little way from the other cats, their heads close together. Standing in the shadows, Brambleclaw couldn’t help overhearing, but he didn’t want to disturb them by moving.

“Goodbye, Crowfeather,” Leafpool murmured, sounding choked with pain. “We . . . we’d better not see each other again.”

Crowfeather’s eyes flashed, and for a heartbeat Brambleclaw thought he was going to protest. Then he shook his head. “You’re right,” he meowed. “It would never have worked. I will never mean enough to you.”

Leafpool sank her claws into the ground. “You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

The tip of Crowfeather’s black tail twitched. “You’re a medicine cat. I understand what that means now. StarClan go with you, Leafpool. I’ll never forget you.”

He and Leafpool touched noses, a delicate contact that lasted less than a heartbeat. Then Crowfeather turned back to his Clanmates. Leafpool watched him go, her eyes clouded with loss.

Webfoot gave Crowfeather a dark look, and Weaselfur pointedly turned his back on him, but Onestar said nothing, only gathering all his warriors together with a sweep of his tail before leading them out of the camp.

“Thank you again!” Firestar called after them. “May StarClan light your path.”

Leafpool stood motionless until Crowfeather’s grey-black figure had vanished into the shadow of the trees, then padded across the clearing towards Cinderpelt’s den. On the way she flicked her tail to summon Brightheart, who had helped Cinderpelt with medicine cat duties in the past.

“Are you sure?” Brightheart asked hesitantly.

“Of course I’m sure.” Leafpool’s voice was ragged with exhaustion and grief. “Every cat in the Clan is wounded. I’ll be glad of your skills.”

Brightheart’s eyes gleamed, and she seemed to shake off some of her own weariness as she followed Leafpool to the den.

“Is that Stormfur and Brook?”

Brambleclaw jumped as a hoarse voice spoke in his ear. Squirrelflight had appeared beside him. Her dark ginger fur was matted with blood and the tip of one ear was torn.

“Can’t you see that it is?” Brambleclaw replied, realising too late how abrupt he sounded. “Sorry—” he began.

Squirrelflight took a pace forward so that her pelt brushed his. She touched the tip of her tail to his mouth to silence him. “Stupid furball,” she whispered.

Brambleclaw tensed, wondering if he was imagining the affection in her green gaze. Glancing past her, he saw Ashfur glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

Squirrelflight didn’t notice Ashfur. She limped past Brambleclaw to touch noses with the visitors. “Thank StarClan you have come,” she meowed, echoing Brambleclaw’s thoughts. “We need all our friends right now.”

Brambleclaw felt his shoulders droop in exhaustion just thinking about how much had to be done. Injuries to treat, dens to rebuild, fresh-kill to gather . . . “We’ll speak to Firestar and then get started.”

As they approached the Clan leader, Thornclaw staggered up to them. Blood trickled from a deep gash above one eye. “Stormfur?” he muttered, shaking his head in confusion. “No, it can’t be.” The golden brown warrior slumped to the ground, where he lay panting.

Squirrelflight rested her tail on his shoulder, urging him to lie still until his injuries could be treated. Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook up to Firestar.

The Clan leader’s eyes stretched wide in surprise. “Stormfur . . . and Brook! What are you doing here?”

“There’ll be time to explain later,” Stormfur meowed. “For now, Firestar, put us to work.”

Firestar stared around the clearing as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “We should sort out the warriors’ den so the cats who have been hurt most can get some sleep . . . but we need to get the entrance barrier back in place, too.”

The whole camp was devastated, and few of the ThunderClan cats were in any shape to start rebuilding. Ashfur was slumped on the ground, bleeding from flank and foreleg, while Leafpool patted cobwebs onto his wounds. Cloudtail limped up to her, holding one forepaw off the ground; blood trickled from where a claw had been torn out. “Hi, Stormfur,” he mewed as he passed, as if this had been such an extraordinary night, the sight of an old friend was no longer a surprise. “Leafpool, can I have a piece of that cobweb?”

Sandstorm was close behind him, her head bent with exhaustion and her tail dragging in the dust. She stopped dead when she spotted Leafpool, then swung around to face Firestar, her green eyes questioning.

“Leafpool’s here?” she meowed. “What happened?”

Firestar shook his head to silence her. “We’ll talk to her later,” he promised. “For now, she’s home, and that’s all that matters.”

“Firestar!” A yowl came from across the clearing. “Firestar, have those crow-food eaters gone?”

Brambleclaw turned to see the three elders, Mousefur, Goldenflower, and Longtail. In the darkness they had to pick their way carefully down the tumble of rocks that led to the ledge where Firestar had his den. They had taken shelter there while the battle raged below. It was Mousefur who had called out; she had lost some fur from one shoulder, Longtail’s tail was bleeding, and Goldenflower had a deep scratch down one side. She was guiding Longtail with her tail across his shoulders.

“Are you all right?” Brambleclaw asked, going to meet them.

“Fine,” Mousefur growled. “A badger tried to climb up to the Highledge, but we sent it back down the rocks faster than it intended.”

“What if they come back?” Goldenflower sounded distraught.

“They’d better not.” Longtail flexed his claws, and Brambleclaw saw dark tufts of badger fur caught in them. “I don’t need to see to fight badgers. I can find them by their disgusting scent.”

“Better let Leafpool look at those scratches,” Firestar meowed.

“Leafpool?” Mousefur’s voice was sharp as she swung around to stare at the medicine cat. “She’s back, is she? For good—or until that WindClan warrior starts sniffing around again?”

Brambleclaw bit back a sharp retort. He knew Mousefur sounded so harsh only because she was shocked and hurt.

“And who’s this?” Mousefur padded up to Stormfur and examined him with narrowed eyes. “Stormfur? What’s he doing here?”

“Just paying a visit.” Stormfur sounded uncomfortable at the brown elder’s suspicious tone.

Mousefur grunted, as if she wasn’t completely convinced that Stormfur was a friend. “You were a RiverClan warrior before you left us. Why are you here and not over there?”

“Mousefur, don’t be so ungrateful!” Squirrelflight meowed indignantly. “We need every cat who’s prepared to help. Besides, Stormfur is half ThunderClan, remember?” Stormfur’s father was Greystripe, the ThunderClan deputy who had been captured by Twolegs before the cats left the forest.

Mousefur bristled at Squirrelflight, but before she could reply she was interrupted by a cry from Ferncloud, racing through the broken thorns that were strewn across the entrance to the hollow. “Dustpelt, where are you?”

Brambleclaw bounded over to her as she stopped just inside the entrance, gazing around the dark camp and yowling her mate’s name.

“Brambleclaw, have you seen Dustpelt?” she demanded.

“No, not yet,” he admitted. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

“I should have stayed with him!” Ferncloud wailed. “I never should have left the camp!”

“But Daisy needed you,” Brambleclaw reminded her. “She couldn’t have coped without a warrior to look after her, and it was much safer for you both to stay hidden outside the camp. Remember, Daisy hasn’t been in the Clan long, and she can’t fight well enough yet to defend herself and her kits.”

Ferncloud shook her head distractedly. “Dustpelt can’t be dead,” she mewed.

“We’ll find him,” Brambleclaw promised. Silently, he hoped StarClan had not chosen this warrior to join their ranks tonight. He began to search, padding back and forth among the scattered remains of the entrance barrier, gradually working his way back towards the centre of the camp. His breath caught in his throat when he picked up Dustpelt’s scent and almost stumbled over a heap of tabby fur lying in the shadow of the rock wall. Dustpelt’s eyes were closed, but as Brambleclaw stared at him his ears twitched and he let out a sneeze.

“Ferncloud—over here!” Brambleclaw called.

“Dustpelt! Dustpelt!”

At the sound of his mate’s voice Dustpelt opened his eyes and started to struggle to his paws. Ferncloud bounded up to him, brushing her pelt against his and covering him with licks. Dustpelt let out an unsteady purr.

Brambleclaw decided that if Dustpelt could stand up, he could wait a while before Cinderpelt or Leafpool saw him. He was heading back to the clearing, anxious to start work on the wrecked camp, when he saw that Birchpaw had followed Ferncloud into the hollow. The young apprentice had lost almost all the fur from his haunches, and one eye was closed. With his good eye he darted nervous glances from side to side, as if he still expected to see the camp full of invading badgers.

Behind him, Daisy, the cat from the horseplace, picked her way through the thorns with her three kits scrambling after her. They stared with huge eyes at the devastated dens and the weary, wounded cats. Spotting Midnight standing in the shadows, Berrykit drew back his lips in a snarl. He took a pace forward, his legs stiff and his fur bristling.

With a squeak of alarm, Daisy rushed to his side. “Berrykit! What are you doing? Come away before the badger hurts you.”

“Nothing to fear, small one,” Midnight rumbled gently.

Daisy just glared at her, sweeping her tail around Berrykit and drawing him away towards the other cats. Brambleclaw realised she had no idea who Midnight was.

“It’s all right!” he called.

Leafpool reached the horseplace cat before him. “Don’t worry, Daisy,” she meowed. “Midnight’s a friend. Crow feather and I met her when we were up in the hills. She warned us that her kin were going to attack, and she brought WindClan to help us.”

“But she’s a badger!” Daisy exclaimed.

Brambleclaw padded over to help Leafpool explain. “We met Midnight on our journey to the sun-drown-place. She wouldn’t harm us.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Berrykit assured his mother. “I’ll look after you.”

“I bet you would, too.” Cloudtail limped up and gently flicked Berrykit’s ear with the tip of his tail. “It takes enough courage for a full-grown cat to face up to a badger. You’ll make a great warrior one day.”

Berrykit’s tail went straight up with pride. “Race you to the nursery!” he yowled to his littermates.

“No—wait!” Cloudtail called after the three kits. “You can’t go in there yet.”

“Why not?” Daisy asked, puzzled. “My kits need to rest.”

“Cinderpelt’s body is in there,” Leafpool mewed quietly. “A badger broke in while she was helping Sorreltail give birth.” Her voice quavered and she swallowed hard. “I tried to save her, but she was already on her way to StarClan.”

Brambleclaw stared at her in disbelief.

Cinderpelt was dead?

Chapter 2

Brambleclaw felt as if every drop of his blood had turned to ice. It was bad enough that any warrior should have gone to join StarClan tonight, but losing the Clan’s medicine cat was a cruel blow. He suddenly realised why Leafpool had asked Brightheart to help her treat the injured warriors.

Mousefur let out a shocked yowl. “She was only a young cat! She had her whole life ahead of her.”

Squirrelflight padded up and brushed her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “We won’t forget her,” she murmured.

Brambleclaw nodded, too shocked to speak. Leafpool stood with head bowed for a heartbeat, then nudged Thornclaw to his paws. “Come to my den.” Her voice sounded thin, as if she was keeping it tightly under control. “I have more cobwebs there.” She padded away, glancing back just once to be sure Thornclaw was following.

Movement in the darkness at the edge of the hollow caught Brambleclaw’s eye, and he turned to see Spiderleg and Whitepaw heading slowly towards them. Spiderleg beckoned with his tail; Brambleclaw had to force his numbed legs into action.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Come and see.” Spiderleg led the way to the wall of the hollow, near the escape route where Daisy and her kits had climbed to safety. A limp bundle of grey-black fur lay in the shadows.

“It’s Sootfur,” Whitepaw whispered. “I think he’s dead.”

Brambleclaw’s belly twisted. Even though he was afraid that Whitepaw was right, he nosed the young warrior’s body in the faint hope of rousing him. Sootfur didn’t move, and his glazed eyes stared at nothing.

“May StarClan light his path,” Brambleclaw murmured. Sootfur’s sister, Sorreltail, had only just given birth; how would she cope with the loss of her brother?

Both the younger cats were staring at Brambleclaw as if they were waiting for him to tell them what to do. With a massive effort he forced himself to think.

“Carry him into the centre of the camp, so we can have a vigil,” he meowed. “I’ll go and look for Rainwhisker.” Sootfur’s brother would have to be told; perhaps he could help their sister, Sorreltail.

Brambleclaw waited until Spiderleg and Whitepaw had lifted Sootfur’s body, then began to search. He couldn’t remember seeing Rainwhisker since the end of the battle. Anxiety sank sharp claws into him; surely Rainwhisker couldn’t be dead too?

Then he spotted the grey warrior half buried under the torn-up thorn branches that had once sheltered the warriors’ den. He lay without moving, but as Brambleclaw dragged a branch off him he managed to lift his head.

“The badgers—have they gone?” he asked hoarsely.

“It’s all over,” Brambleclaw replied. “But I’m afraid there’s sad news. Can you get up?”

With a grunt, Rainwhisker brought his paws under him and scrabbled at the prickly twigs until he had hauled himself upright. He balanced precariously on three legs; the fourth hung at an awkward angle, and Brambleclaw was afraid it had been broken. Giving Rainwhisker his shoulder for support, he guided him towards the centre of the camp where Sootfur now lay. Firestar, Squirrelflight, and several other cats stood around him, their heads bowed.

Rainwhisker let out a yowl of dismay at the sight of his brother’s body. Limping forward, he bent his head to thrust his nose into the grey-black fur. He stayed still for a few heartbeats, then looked up, his eyes filled with grief.

“I should tell Sorreltail,” he meowed.

Firestar twitched his tail to stop him. “Your leg needs to be seen to first. Some other cat—”

“No,” Rainwhisker interrupted stubbornly. “Let me do it. Sootfur was our brother. She will want to hear this from me.”

The Clan leader hesitated, then nodded. “OK, but go to see Cinderpelt as soon as you can.”

“Firestar, you mean Leafpool,” Sandstorm gently corrected him.

Firestar blinked, stupefied by shock and exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe Cinderpelt’s dead.”

Brambleclaw gazed at him sympathetically. The Thunder Clan leader had been very close to Cinderpelt. He was sure to be badly shaken by her death.

He’s going to need my help. Brambleclaw braced himself. Touching Squirrelflight on her shoulder with his tail, he murmured, “Let’s go and bring Cinderpelt’s body into the clearing.”

“Right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Rainwhisker, come with us if you want to speak to Sorreltail.”

The three cats made their way to the nursery. The bramble thicket, growing close to the wall of the hollow, was the least damaged part of the camp. Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Brackenfur had stayed there throughout the battle, defending the entrance while Sorreltail’s kits were born. Only part of it had been trampled down where the badger that killed Cinderpelt had swatted Brackenfur aside to break in.

Daisy and her kits were standing outside the entrance. Cloudtail and Ferncloud were with them, and Birchpaw, who lay splayed out on the ground beside his mother. For a dreadful instant Brambleclaw thought that the apprentice had died of his wounds, until he saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Ferncloud crouched over him, gently licking his shoulder.

Leafpool and Brightheart approached at the same time. Leafpool was carrying a wrap of herbs in her jaws, which she set down as Brambleclaw came up.

“Thank StarClan, Cinderpelt’s den was too small for the badgers to get in,” she meowed. “All her herbs and berries are still intact.” Her voice shook as she added, “Please can we move her body, so the Clan can sit in vigil for her?”

“We’ve come to do that,” Brambleclaw told her.

Leafpool blinked gratefully. “Thank you. Brightheart,” she went on, “please fetch some marigold for Birchpaw. Then tell all the cats who are able to walk to go to my den. It’ll be easier to treat them there. And let me know if there’s any cat who can’t manage it. I’ll need to see them first.”

Brightheart gave a brisk nod and left.

Leafpool led the way into the nursery, followed closely by Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and Rainwhisker. Hardly any moonlight penetrated through the brambles, making it shadowy as a cave inside, and Brambleclaw winced as he stepped on a thorny tendril. He could just make out Cinderpelt lying on her side in a nest of soft moss. Her tail was curled over her nose, and she looked as if she were asleep.

Brambleclaw padded up to her. “Cinderpelt?” For a heartbeat he thought she might raise her head and answer him, but when he touched his nose to her fur it felt deathly cold.

Sorreltail was lying on the other side of the dead medicine cat, in the furthest corner of the nursery. Her body was curled away from Cinderpelt’s body, sheltering her kits. Her mate, Brackenfur, crouched beside her, his fur bristling; as the other cats entered he bared his teeth in a snarl.

“It’s all right, Brackenfur,” Brambleclaw meowed. “It’s only us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Brackenfur relaxed, though he still looked wary, and shifted even closer to Sorreltail. Leafpool squeezed past Brambleclaw and began nosing carefully over the young tortoiseshell. Brambleclaw blinked, waiting for his eyes to get used to the gloom until he could see Sorreltail’s four kits burrowing blindly into her fur. Sorreltail was gazing up at Leafpool, her eyes blank with shock.

Rainwhisker edged up beside Brambleclaw. “What can I say to her?” he whispered. “She’s suffered enough already. Knowing about Sootfur could kill her.”

“Not when she has Brackenfur and Leafpool to look after her,” Brambleclaw reassured him. “Come on—it’s better for her to hear it from you than some other cat.”

Rainwhisker nodded, though he still looked uncertain. “Sorreltail . . .” he began, gently nuzzling his sister’s shoulder.

“Rainwhisker, is that you?” Sorreltail mewed, twisting her head around to look at him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be OK,” Rainwhisker replied. “But I’ve got some bad news. It’s Sootfur. He’s . . . dead.”

Sorreltail stared at him for a couple of heartbeats as if she hadn’t understood. Then she tipped back her head and let out a high-pitched wail. “No! Oh, no!”

Her body twisted in a spasm of grief; Brambleclaw heard a faint mewling of protest from the kits as they were dislodged from her belly.

“Sorreltail, it’s all right!” Brackenfur mewed. He pressed himself to her side, covering her face and ears with licks until she shuddered and buried her head in his shoulder. “Sorreltail, I’m here,” he went on. “Think of the kits. You have to care for them.”

“How did he die?” Sorreltail’s voice trembled, but she shifted until her kits were tucked once more in the curve of her body. The babies scrambled back into place and kept suckling, pressing into her belly with tiny soft paws.

“The badgers killed him,” Rainwhisker told her. “Sootfur was a brave warrior,” Brambleclaw meowed. “He’s safe with StarClan now.”

Sorreltail nodded and reached out to give Rainwhisker a comforting lick. “Thank you for telling me.”

Leafpool nudged her leaf wrap closer to the young tortoiseshell. “That’s borage,” she meowed. “It will help your supply of milk.” She hesitated and then added, “If you can’t sleep, I’ll get you some poppy seed, but it would be better for the kits if you can manage without.”

“It’s all right, I can do without it.” Sorreltail bent over and chewed up the borage, wincing at the taste but swallowing until it was all gone.

“Brackenfur, can you find some fresh-kill for her?” Leafpool suggested. “As for you, Rainwhisker, you’d better stay right here while I have a look at that leg.”

Brackenfur touched his nose to Sorreltail’s ear, promised, “I’ll be right back,” and slipped out of the nursery past Cinderpelt’s body.

Sorreltail’s gaze followed him. “It’s my fault Cinderpelt died.” Her voice rasped with grief. “She could have escaped the badger, but she stayed to help me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Leafpool sounded unusually fierce, and Brambleclaw glanced at her in surprise. “Cinderpelt was doing her duty as a medicine cat. That was the choice she made.”

“That’s true,” meowed Squirrelflight. “Sorreltail, just think—if Cinderpelt had left you, the badger might have killed you too, and your kits. You wouldn’t want that, and neither would she.”

Sorreltail shook her head, shuddering.

“They’re beautiful kits,” Brambleclaw said, trying to distract her. He got a good look at the newest members of ThunderClan for the first time. “Have you given them names yet?”

Sorreltail nodded. “This one is Molekit.” She touched the biggest kit’s head with the tip of her tail. “He’s the only tom. Then this is Honeykit and Poppykit.” She touched in turn a pale bracken-coloured tabby and a tortoiseshell-and-white kit who looked like a tiny copy of Sorreltail. “And this is Cinderkit.”

Brambleclaw heard a gasp from Squirrelflight. The fluffy grey kit looked hauntingly familiar, and he couldn’t help casting a rapid glance at the body of Cinderpelt behind him. Leafpool, bent over Rainwhisker’s injured leg, froze for a heartbeat. “I think Cinderpelt would like that,” she mewed softly, then carried on with what she was doing.

“They all look strong and healthy,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Come on, Squirrelflight, we have a job to do for Cinderpelt now.”

Squirrelflight paused and touched Leafpool lightly on the shoulder with the tip of her tail. “You should get some rest soon,” she mewed. “You look awful.”

“I don’t have time to rest,” Leafpool responded, not looking at her. “What are all these wounded cats going to do if I take a nap?”

Squirrelflight’s gaze was troubled. “But I’m worried about you. I can feel how tough it is for you right now.”

This time Leafpool didn’t reply. Brambleclaw could see that she just wanted to be left alone to take care of Rainwhisker. He nudged Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Come on,” he repeated, lowering his voice to add, “give her a bit of space. She can cope; she just needs time.”

Squirrelflight still looked uncertain, but she turned round in the tight space and helped Brambleclaw carry Cinderpelt’s limp body out of the nursery. Daisy and the kits were still huddled by the entrance with Cloudtail and Ferncloud. Brightheart had brought the marigold and was treating Birchpaw’s wounds.

“You can’t leave,” Cloudtail was protesting. “You and the kits belong here.”

Daisy shook her head, her gaze falling on the dead medicine cat. “My kits could have been killed,” she mewed. “Or I could have died, and then what would happen to them? They’ll be safer back at the horseplace.”

All three of her kits let out meows of protest.

“But what about the Twolegs?” Cloudtail pressed. “You came here in the first place because you were afraid they would take your kits away from you.”

Daisy flexed her claws, her eyes clouded with indecision. Before she could speak, Brightheart meowed, “The kits might be safe from the Twolegs by now. After all, they’re nearly old enough to make themselves useful, catching rats and mice in the barn.”

“But we don’t want to go back there,” Berrykit wailed. “We want to stay here.”

Daisy flicked him with her tail. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want a badger to come and get you?”

“But none of you are hurt,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “The Clan made sure you were safe.”

“Please stay,” Ferncloud urged. “Life will be much easier now that newleaf is here.”

Daisy gave her a doubtful look. “Can you promise me the badgers won’t come back?”

“No cat can promise that,” Cloudtail replied, “but I’ll bet we won’t see anything of them for a good long time.”

Daisy shook her head and pushed her kits in front of her into the nursery. “Come along. You need to rest after such a dreadful night.”

“But we’re not tired,” Mousekit complained.

Daisy didn’t reply. She cast one more glance back at Cloudtail, full of fear and uncertainty, before she vanished.

Ferncloud followed her. “I’ll just see her settled.”

“Daisy could be right, you know,” Brightheart meowed, without looking at Cloudtail. “She knows what’s best for her kits, and maybe they would all feel safer back at the horse-place.”

Cloudtail opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again.

“You’d better get over to Leafpool’s den,” Brightheart told him, as if she didn’t want to talk about the horseplace cat any more. “That torn claw is bleeding again. You need more cobwebs.”

Cloudtail glanced at the nursery entrance and muttered, “Right, I’ll be off, then.”

Brambleclaw turned back to Cinderpelt, his heart twisting with grief as he gazed at the sleek grey body, the blue eyes glazed and empty. Squirrelflight stood beside him with her head bowed; Brambleclaw saw a shiver pass through her and he pressed himself against her side, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. When she didn’t move, he stood for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.

“Come on,” he mewed softly. “The night will be over soon. It’s time for her vigil.”

He and Squirrelflight picked up Cinderpelt’s body again to carry her across the clearing and lay her beside Sootfur. Spiderleg and Whitepaw were crouching with their noses pressed into the grey-black warrior’s pelt.

“Goodbye,” Brambleclaw murmured, touching his nose to Cinderpelt’s fur. “StarClan will honour you.”

“We’ll miss you,” Squirrelflight added. “And we’ll never forget you.”

Brambleclaw would have liked to crouch beside the dead medicine cat and keep a proper vigil for her, but there was too much to do. He padded across to Firestar, who was still in the centre of the camp with Stormfur, Brook, and Midnight.

“I think we should start on the warriors’ den,” he meowed.

Midnight dipped her head to Firestar. “I go now,” she announced. “By night is travel well.”

“But you must be as tired as the rest of us,” Firestar protested. “Stay until you have slept for a while.”

Midnight’s white-striped head swung around as she surveyed the shattered camp. “No more here for me to do. I go back to sea cave, hear beating of waves on shore, rustle of wind in grasses.”

“ThunderClan would have been destroyed if you hadn’t brought WindClan to help us. We can never thank you enough.”

“No need is thanks. Too late warning come. My kin not hear talk of peace.”

“But why?” Brook asked, her eyes wide with distress. “In the mountains, we’ve never had trouble with badgers. Are they like Sharptooth, wanting to kill cats for their prey?”

Midnight shook her head. “My kin not eat cats. But cats drive them from territory, first from RiverClan on other side of lake, then from here. Revenge they want, and take territory back.”

“I remember Hawkfrost reporting that at the Gathering,” Firestar meowed. “He was the RiverClan warrior who drove the badger out.”

Brambleclaw drew a sharp breath, ready to defend his half-brother. Were his Clanmates going to blame Hawkfrost for the badger attack?

“We drove a badger out of our territory too,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “With her kits. And to think I felt sorry for her!”

“I wonder if that means they’ll come back,” Firestar murmured thoughtfully. “The patrols will have to keep a sharp lookout.”

“I also,” Midnight added. “When know anything, I come, or send word. But now I go, say farewell to cat friends.”

“Goodbye, Midnight,” mewed Stormfur. “It was good to see you again.”

Midnight’s small eyes rested on him for a moment. “Spirits watch over you,” she told Stormfur. “StarClan and Tribe of Endless Hunting also. Hard the path you walk, but not finished yet.”

The grey warrior dipped his head. “Thank you, Midnight.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Brambleclaw meowed to Midnight. With a glance at his Clan leader, he added, “Couldn’t you make a set in the woods here and stay with us?”

“Please!” Squirrelflight urged.

The old badger shook her head, her eyes deep with wisdom. “This not my place,” she warned. “But StarClan may lead us meet again.”

“I hope so,” meowed Brambleclaw.

“Then it’s goodbye.” Firestar lowered his head to Midnight in the deepest respect. “ThunderClan will always honour you.” He escorted her to the entrance, as if he didn’t want to see her go either. Dustpelt and Sandstorm, gathering up the thorns from the damaged entrance barrier, stopped work briefly to add their own farewells.

With Squirrelflight and Stormfur beside him, Bramble claw watched Midnight leave the hollow, her broad, flat paws tramping across the remains of the thorn barrier. For the second time now, ThunderClan had needed Midnight’s help to survive. How could they be safe when she was so far away, at the sun-drown-place? Brambleclaw wasn’t even sure he could find the sandy cliff again.

I must go on, he told himself. I’d give my last breath to help my Clan, and ThunderClan needs me now more than they ever have before.

Stormfur turned away from the dark forest where the badger had disappeared. “Right,” he meowed, “what needs doing next?”

“I think every cat has been accounted for, and Leafpool and Brightheart are taking care of the injuries. But we all need to rest and recover,” Brambleclaw meowed. “That means we need to sort out places to sleep. And do something about fresh-kill.”

“Brook and I will hunt for the Clan in the morning,” Stormfur promised. “For now, I’ll work on the warriors’ den. Where is it?”

Good question, thought Brambleclaw. He pointed with his tail at the trampled thorn tree beneath the far wall of the hollow. “Over there,” he meowed. The branches had been dense and low-growing, providing good protection against the cold winds and rain of leaf-bare. But the badgers had broken through the canopy to get at cats trying to shelter inside, and it didn’t look much like a den now.

Stormfur blinked. “OK, I’ll get started.” He bounded off in the direction Brambleclaw had pointed.

“Brook, you could check on the elders,” Squirrelflight suggested. “Their den’s under that twisted hazel over there. Come and find me if you need any help.”

Brook nodded and bounded off into the shadows.

Brambleclaw was about to follow Stormfur when Ashfur padded up. “Are you going to sit vigil for Sootfur and Cinderpelt?” he asked Squirrelflight.

“You go ahead,” Squirrelflight mewed. “I want to help rebuild the dens right now, but I’ll try to sit with them later. Cinderpelt and Sootfur would understand.”

Ashfur blinked at her with hurt in his blue eyes, as if he was taking her refusal personally. “OK, I’ll see you later, then.” He padded off and settled down beside the other cats circled around the two still bodies.

Squirrelflight flicked her tail lightly over Brambleclaw’s ears. “Don’t you think you should go to Leafpool’s den and get those scratches looked at?”

In spite of everything that had happened, the expression in Squirrelflight’s eyes made something in Brambleclaw’s heart purr like a kit. “Not yet,” he told her. “Leafpool has enough to do, and there are plenty of cats hurt worse than me. I’ll help Stormfur with the warriors’ den. Every cat is exhausted, and it’ll be dawn soon.”

“Then I’ll do something about fresh-kill. The pile must have been scattered, but the badgers wouldn’t have had time to eat our prey. I might be able to salvage enough to keep us going until we can send out hunting patrols. If I find anything fit to eat, I’ll bring you some.”

“Thanks.” Brambleclaw watched the ginger warrior as she padded across the clearing, then made his way to the remains of the warriors’ den. Every muscle in his body was aching, the scratch on his shoulder throbbed, and he felt almost too tired to put one paw in front of another. But his Clanmates needed him. He had to find the strength to help them.

The thorn tree where the warriors had made their den grew close to the highest part of the cliff, not far from the tumble of rocks leading up to the Highledge. As he approached, Brambleclaw saw that although the outer branches were broken and trampled down, further in, towards the trunk, there seemed to be less damage. He hoped that there might be enough shelter left untouched, even if the warriors were a bit cramped until the tree put on fresh growth in newleaf.

As he drew closer, sniffing cautiously at the wrecked outer branches, Stormfur appeared, hauling a tangled mass of thorns behind him.

“Hi,” he panted, setting the thorns down to catch his breath. Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Shouldn’t you be resting? You look very battered, you know.”

“We’re all battered,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “I can’t rest now; there’s too much to do.”

Stormfur’s gaze travelled around the clearing. “There certainly is.”

Brambleclaw rested his tail against Stormfur’s grey flank. “I’m glad to see you,” he meowed. “StarClan couldn’t have chosen a better time to bring you here.”

“Well . . . the Tribe of Endless Hunting watch over me now.”

“Some ancestors sent you to us. I don’t care whose, I’m just thankful.”

Squirrelflight trotted up just then, carrying a couple of mice by their tails. She dropped the fresh-kill at their paws. “There you are,” she mewed to Brambleclaw. “Eat. You need your strength.” She patted the second mouse towards Stormfur. “You too, Stormfur.”

“No thanks,” the grey warrior meowed. “Brook and I ate on the way here. I’m not hungry right now.”

“OK, if you’re sure, I’ll take it to the elders. I’ve found plenty of fresh-kill,” she added to Brambleclaw. “It’s a bit trodden on, but it’ll do until tomorrow.” With a whisk of her tail she picked up the spare mouse and headed for the elders’ den.

While Stormfur went back inside the den, Brambleclaw crouched down to eat the mouse. It was flattened and covered with earth, as if a badger’s huge paw had trampled it into the ground, but he was too hungry to care. He devoured it in a few famished gulps. Then he went to help Stormfur shift the damaged thorns. Blood began oozing again from the scratch on his shoulder as he struggled to drag the broken branches away from the rest; thorns pricked at his paws and scraped against his side, adding fresh scratches to his pelt.

As he was backing out of the den, tugging a particularly stubborn branch, Squirrelflight’s scent drifted around him. He dropped the end of the branch and turned to see her standing behind him with a dripping wad of moss.

She set it down and meowed, “I thought you might need a drink.”

“Thanks.” As he lapped water from the moss, he thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. It seemed to soak into every part of him, giving him new energy.

When he had drunk as much as he wanted, Squirrelflight picked up the moss and gently dabbed it against his shoulder wound. Her eyes met Brambleclaw’s; he shivered at the closeness of her.

“Squirrelflight, I’m sorry for everything—” he began.

She swept her tail-tip across his mouth. “I know,” she murmured.

Brambleclaw thought he could have stood like that forever, drowning in the depths of her green gaze. But a movement beyond her distracted him, and he looked up to see Ashfur staring at him.

The grey warrior had left the vigil for his dead Clanmates and was crossing the clearing. After a few moments, he turned away and disappeared behind the brambles that screened the medicine cat’s den.

Brambleclaw stepped back and faced Squirrelflight. “What about Ashfur?” he meowed. He didn’t need to say any more— Squirrelflight and Ashfur had become very close in recent moons, and the grey warrior might have good reason to feel that Brambleclaw was treading on his paws.

Squirrelflight dropped the moss. “Don’t worry about Ashfur. I’ll talk to him.” There was regret in her eyes, but no uncertainty. Briefly she touched her nose to Brambleclaw’s. “I have to fetch water for the elders now. I’ll see you later.”

Dazed, Brambleclaw watched her go before starting to tug at the branch again. He could hardly believe how quickly everything had changed, and how little he and Squirrelflight had needed to say to each other. Their quarrels, the way they had deliberately tried to hurt each other, all that was gone in the wake of the badger attack, now that they realised how much they cared about each other. They didn’t even have to apologise; they could just look forward to all the moons ahead of them.

As he finally yanked the branch free, Stormfur emerged from the den, pushing a tangle of moss and thorns in front of him.

“It’s good to see you and Squirrelflight are still getting on so well,” he meowed.

“Yes, she’s a terrific cat,” Brambleclaw mumbled. He didn’t want to tell Stormfur that the closeness he shared with Squirrelflight had melted away for a time. “Why don’t we take some of these thorns over to Sandstorm for the entrance barrier?”

“OK.” Stormfur looked faintly amused, as if he could tell Brambleclaw was deliberately changing the subject away from Squirrelflight. “You know,” he added, “I feel just the same about Brook.”

He picked up the end of a long branch, but before they had gone more than a couple of paces Brambleclaw spotted the young Tribe she-cat heading towards them with a huge bundle of moss in her jaws.

“The elders are going to be fine,” she reported, after setting her burden down beside Brambleclaw. “Leafpool has put cobwebs on Mousefur’s scratches, and given them all a few poppy seeds to help them sleep. Squirrelflight has gone to fetch them some water.”

“Thanks for your help, Brook,” Brambleclaw meowed, nodding at the ball of moss.

“I took it out of the elders’ den because it’s full of thorns. No cat could sleep on that. Can you tell me the best place to find some more moss?”

“Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Brambleclaw asked. “You’ve travelled a long way.”

Brook’s ears twitched. “I’m in better shape than you. Besides, we took it easy on the journey. It’s been more than a moon since we left the Tribe.”

“We thought we would never find you,” Stormfur meowed.

“How did you?” Brambleclaw asked. He jumped at a flicker of movement behind him, but it was only Brackenfur, padding across to the nursery with fresh-kill in his jaws. “Did the Tribe of Endless Hunting show you the way?”

A glance flashed between Stormfur and Brook.

“I wish they had,” Stormfur replied. “We might have got here sooner. We wandered around in the hills until we came across a rogue who knew some cats who live with horses. Do you know them?”

“Oh, yes, the horseplace cats,” Brambleclaw mewed. “We’ve met them—in fact, one of them is here now, with her kits.”

Stormfur looked surprised. “Well, the rogue said they told him a huge number of cats had moved into their area. We knew that had to be you, and the rogue told us which way to come.”

“So you haven’t been to RiverClan yet?”

Stormfur shook his head, but before he could say anything else, Brook prodded Brambleclaw in the shoulder with one paw. “Moss? Your elders will be waiting.”

“Oh, sure. Let’s take these thorns over to the camp entrance, and I’ll show you.”

Brambleclaw and Stormfur dragged the branches across to where Sandstorm, Dustpelt, and Firestar were working on the barrier. Brook followed with her bundle of moss.

“Over there.” Brambleclaw pointed with his tail into the forest. His pelt prickled with horror as he remembered how the badgers had come roaring out of the shadows with death in their eyes. “Keep going straight on, and you’ll find plenty of moss around the tree roots.”

“I’ll come with you, Brook,” Stormfur meowed. “You never know, there might still be badgers around.”

“I’ve posted guards,” Firestar called across. “It should be safe.” He flicked his ears towards the top of the hollow, where Brambleclaw could just make out the shadowy shapes of Cloudtail and Thornclaw.

Stormfur followed his gaze, then turned back to Brook. “I’m still coming with you. We’ll need more moss for the warriors’ den.”

He and Brook headed into the forest. As Brambleclaw turned back into the camp, he spotted Leafpool emerging from her den. When she reached Cinderpelt’s body she stopped, bowed her head, and rested her nose in her mentor’s soft fur.

“Forgive me, Cinderpelt.” Brambleclaw was just close enough to hear her murmured words. “I want to sit vigil with you, but there’s too much to do. I know you would want me to care for your Clan.”

Leafpool lifted her head, seemed to brace herself, and padded on towards Brambleclaw. “I want you in my den now,” she meowed. “Your wounds need treatment.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue, Brambleclaw. Just do it.” For a moment Leafpool sounded as forceful as her sister, Squirrelflight. “How much use will you be if your shoulder gets infected?”

Brambleclaw sighed. “All right. I’m on my way.” As the young medicine cat brushed past him, he rested the tip of his tail on her shoulder. “Thanks, Leafpool. I mean, thanks for coming back. ThunderClan needs you.”

Leafpool flashed him a glance filled with sorrow before padding on towards her father and mother by the camp entrance. “Firestar!” he heard her call. “I haven’t had a chance to look at your wounds yet.”

As Brambleclaw was approaching Leafpool’s den, he spotted Ashfur emerging from behind the bramble screen. His torn ear was wrapped in cobwebs, and more of them were plastered along his flank and on his foreleg.

“Are you OK?” Brambleclaw asked as Ashfur padded past him.

Ashfur didn’t look at him. “Fine, thanks,” he mewed curtly.

Brambleclaw watched him cross the clearing to the nursery, where Brackenfur and Spiderleg were dragging out the broken bramble tendrils. Ashfur set to work beside them.

Just outside the cleft in the rock wall where Leafpool had her den, Birchpaw was curled up asleep in a nest of bracken, one paw over his nose. Though he was only an apprentice, he had fought bravely in the battle and helped to protect Daisy and her kits as they escaped from the hollow. The wounds on his haunches, where fur had been ripped away, were covered with a poultice of marigold; Brambleclaw’s nostrils twitched at the sharp scent of chewed-up herbs.

On the other side of the cleft, Rainwhisker lay among more bracken. As Brambleclaw appeared around the screen of brambles he raised his head and blinked drowsily. “Hi, Brambleclaw.” His voice sounded blurred with sleep. “Is everything OK?”

“It will be. How’s your leg?”

“Not broken, thank StarClan. Just dislocated.” He let out a sleepy purr. “Leafpool put it back in place.” His eyes closed again and he rested his nose on his paws.

Brightheart emerged from the cleft in the rock with a mouthful of herbs. She nodded to Brambleclaw, then bent over Rainwhisker and Birchpaw to give each a quick sniff.

“They’re doing fine,” she meowed. “Brambleclaw, when Leafpool comes back, tell her I’ve taken some marigold to Brackenfur. He’s working on the nursery so he doesn’t have to leave Sorreltail.”

“OK,” Brambleclaw agreed.

He sat down beside the two sleeping cats. Leafpool arrived a few moments later with Firestar following her. Carefully she looked Brambleclaw over, then gave the deep scratch on his shoulder a lick.

“That’s the only serious wound,” she meowed. “I want to take a look at it every day, OK? Wait there while I fetch you some marigold.” She paused, staring into the distance for a couple of heartbeats before taking a deep breath and disappearing into the cleft.

“Will she be all right?” Brambleclaw murmured to Firestar. “No medicine cat is looking after her.”

“I’ll tell Squirrelflight to keep an eye on her.”

Leafpool came back with the marigold leaves, and began chewing them up for a poultice.

“We’re down to the last scraps,” she mewed, glancing up with the end of a leaf poking out of her jaws. “Some cat will need to fetch more first thing tomorrow.”

“I’ll see to it,” Firestar promised. “Or—Brambleclaw, maybe you could organise that? Find a cat who isn’t too badly hurt.”

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “OK, Firestar.”

Leaving the cleft in the rock, he spotted Stormfur beside the warriors’ den, beckoning to him with his tail.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” the grey warrior meowed. “We’ve shifted the worst of the thorns, and I’ve put down some fresh moss. It might be a bit cramped, but you can all get some rest now.”

“What about you?” Brambleclaw asked.

“Brook and I are still fresh. We’ll guard the camp for the rest of the night.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly Brambleclaw felt his legs start to give way beneath him; the prospect of curling up to sleep made him realise just how exhausted he was. He touched Stormfur on the shoulder with his tail-tip, then slid past him into the warriors’ den.

There was a clear space near the trunk of the tree, good enough for cats who were too tired to be fussy about where they slept. Spiderleg and Ashfur were already asleep; just beyond them, Dustpelt and Ferncloud were drowsily sharing tongues. Brambleclaw muttered a greeting to them, and sank into the moss and bracken. A heartbeat later, sleep crashed over him like a black wave.

Chapter 3

Leafpool opened her eyes, sticky with sleep, and blinked. She was crouched in the middle of the stone hollow beside Cinderpelt’s body. Next to her, Firestar lay with his nose pushed deep into his friend’s grey fur, his eyes narrowed to slits as if he were lost in memories of the cat who had once been his apprentice. Above the hollow, the sky was milky pale with the first light of dawn.

Opening her jaws, Leafpool tried to draw in the last of her beloved mentor’s scent, but all she could taste was death. She had come to sit vigil with Cinderpelt after all the injured cats had been treated. But exhaustion had overwhelmed her and she had fallen asleep. I couldn’t even stay awake for you, she thought despairingly.

She would never forget the dream she had had on her journey with Crowfeather, in which she had heard Cinderpelt’s terrible cry of pain as the badger struck its killing blow. I should have stayed here, she told herself, guilt tearing at her sharper than a badger’s claws.

But even though she had come back to her Clan, her thoughts were still haunted by Crowfeather. The glow in his amber eyes when he told her how much he loved her. The pain in his voice when he realised that her heart lay here, as ThunderClan’s medicine cat, and not with him. Leafpool had been faced with a terrible choice, but in the end she knew her place was here, in the stone hollow. She had given up Crowfeather, and had lost Cinderpelt too. All that remained was her duty to her Clan.

As she sat up, stretching cramped limbs, careful not to disturb her father at his vigil, she saw Stormfur keeping watch just outside the warriors’ den. Brook guarded the camp with him, sitting closer to the entrance. Other cats were beginning to stir now; Brackenfur put his head out of the nursery, then vanished back inside. A moment later, Brambleclaw and Dustpelt emerged from the warriors’ den and stood tasting the air.

Soon it would be time for the elders to carry the bodies of Cinderpelt and Sootfur out of the camp for burial. Leafpool bent her head over Cinderpelt, touching her muzzle to her mentor’s shoulder and brushing against her soft grey fur. She closed her eyes to try to sense Cinderpelt’s spirit, but above her the warriors of StarClan were disappearing as the sky grew brighter.

Cinderpelt? Tell me you’re still with me!

Leafpool tried to imagine herself padding through the stars with silvery pelts brushing against her on either side, but she couldn’t smell any trace of Cinderpelt’s familiar scent. Had Cinderpelt rejected her because she left ThunderClan with Crowfeather? Would she never hear her mentor’s voice again, not even in dreams?

Cinderpelt, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! she cried. Don’t leave me alone like this.

“I can manage. I don’t need to be able to see to carry my Clanmates.”

Longtail’s voice interrupted Leafpool’s desperate prayer. She opened her eyes to see the three elders approaching, Mousefur in the lead and Goldenflower guiding Longtail.

“Of course you don’t,” Mousefur agreed. “We’ll carry them together, don’t worry.”

Firestar rose from Cinderpelt’s side, his movements stiff from wounds and weariness. Whitepaw crept out of the remains of the apprentices’ den, glancing around nervously as if she wanted to make sure no more badgers had appeared. Thornclaw, who had been Sootfur’s mentor, padded up to him and pushed his nose one last time into the cold, grey-black fur.

“You taught him well,” Leafpool mewed softly, sharing his grief for the young warrior. “He died bravely, fighting for his Clanmates.”

Rainwhisker slid between the cats who were clustering around the bodies. Leafpool saw that he was able to put weight on his injured leg, though it would be a while yet before the torn muscles were fully healed.

“Take it easy,” she warned him. “You’ll be limping permanently if you strain that leg.”

Rainwhisker nodded and spoke to Mousefur. “I want to help, please. Sootfur was my brother.”

Mousefur dipped her head. “Very well.”

She and Rainwhisker took up the body of Sootfur, while Goldenflower and Longtail carried Cinderpelt. With a wrench of grief, Leafpool had to step back and let them take her mentor away. Her sister’s scent drifted around her and she felt the warmth of Squirrelflight’s pelt against her side. Leafpool leaned against her shoulder, grateful for the comfort of her presence.

The rest of their Clan stood with bowed heads as the elders made their way past the shattered thorn barrier and into the trees beyond.

Once they had disappeared, Firestar began to organise the patrols. Squirrelflight turned to Brambleclaw and the two cats headed back towards the warriors’ den, their flanks brushing.

Leafpool’s ears pricked. She had thought her sister and Brambleclaw weren’t close any more. She looked around for Ashfur and saw that he was watching too; she was shaken by the look of fury in his eyes.

Sudden fear for her sister swept through Leafpool like an icy wave. She recalled the dream where she had found herself wandering in a dark, unfamiliar forest with no sign of StarClan. There she had hidden on the edge of a clearing, watching while Tigerstar trained his sons Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost and urged them to seek power within their Clans. Brambleclaw had a fearful inheritance, and Leafpool was not sure he was strong enough to resist his father’s treacherous promptings.

Should she tell Squirrelflight about the dream? She took a step towards her sister, then stopped. She had enough to do already, caring for the injured cats, and it was no part of a medicine cat’s duties to interfere in the friendships of other cats. Besides, that had not been a dream from StarClan, so she couldn’t be sure what it meant, or whether it was a warning about the future.

She padded across to Ashfur. “I need to check your wounds,” she meowed. “Especially that torn ear.”

Ashfur’s eyes glittered with anger, still staring after Squirrelflight. “OK.”

He stood without flinching while Leafpool sniffed the wounds on his flank and foreleg, and gave his ear a careful examination. “They’re healing well,” she told him. “I’ll give you some poppy seed to help you sleep, if you like.”

Ashfur shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.” With a last glance across the clearing, he padded over to join Dustpelt and Spiderleg, who were rebuilding the thorn barrier.

As Leafpool turned towards her den, she spotted Brightheart trotting rapidly across the stone hollow with her daughter, Whitepaw, just behind her.

“Leafpool, do you want me to gather herbs?” she offered. “Brambleclaw said I could take Whitepaw to help me.”

“That would be great,” Leafpool replied.

She gave the apprentice a friendly nod. Whitepaw was looking nervous. She probably imagines the forest is crawling with badgers, Leafpool guessed. I don’t blame her.

“We need marigold more than anything,” she went on to Brightheart. “You’ll find plenty beside the stream.”

Brightheart nodded. “I know a good place. Thank StarClan it’s newleaf.”

Leafpool felt a sudden flood of gratitude towards her Clanmate. She winced with guilt when she remembered how she had been convinced that Brightheart was trying to take her place with Cinderpelt. “It’s a good thing Cinderpelt taught you so well,” she meowed. “I really need your help now.”

Brightheart’s good eye glowed with pleasure. “Let’s go, then. Come on, Whitepaw.” With a flick of her tail she bounded away to the camp entrance, the apprentice scurrying behind her.

Leafpool padded back to her den. Birchpaw, roused from sleep as she brushed past the screen of brambles, struggled to stand up, then flopped back into his nest of bracken.

“Don’t try to get up yet,” Leafpool warned. “I want to take a look at your eye.”

She was more worried about Birchpaw than any of the other cats. He was very young to have fought in such a fierce attack; he didn’t have the strength of a full-grown cat to help him recover from serious wounds.

The scratch around Birchpaw’s eye was red and puffy, only a faint gleam escaping past the swollen flesh. He was very lucky not to have lost the eye, Leafpool thought privately, shuddering as she pictured a badger’s blunt claws ripping at the apprentice’s face.

Slipping inside her den where her supplies were kept, Leafpool found the last two leaves of marigold. Thank StarClan Brightheart was fetching more. Leafpool took the leaves outside and chewed them up, but when she tried to lay the pulp on Birchpaw’s eye, he ducked away.

“It stings,” he complained.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But it’ll hurt worse if the scratches get infected. Come on.” Leafpool tried to encourage him. “You’re not a kit any more.”

Birchpaw nodded; his whole body stiffened as he braced himself. Leafpool patted on more of the marigold pulp, and this time breathed a sigh of relief to see the healing juices trickle into his eye.

“Try to get some more sleep,” she suggested once she had checked the wounds on his haunches. “Do you need poppy seed?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” meowed Birchpaw, curling up again. “Will you tell Ashfur that I won’t be able to train today?”

“Sure,” Leafpool replied.

She waited until Birchpaw was asleep again, then set off for the nursery with more borage for Sorreltail. On her way she spotted Stormfur and Brook returning to the camp with jaws full of fresh-kill and realised how hungry she was. She could hardly remember the last time she had eaten: it must have been before her desperate dash back from the hills with Crowfeather to warn her Clan.

She made her way over to Stormfur and Brook. A small fresh-kill pile was already there, showing how hard the visitors had been working that morning.

“Hi,” Brook meowed. “I was going to bring some fresh-kill to your den.”

“No need, thanks, I’ll eat here,” Leafpool replied, after setting down the borage. “If you’re sure there’s enough. Have Sorreltail and the elders had some?”

“I’m seeing to them now,” Stormfur mewed. “You take what you want, Leafpool. There’s plenty of prey, and Sandstorm and Cloudtail are out hunting as well.” He grabbed a couple of mice and headed for the nursery.

Brook took more fresh-kill for the elders, while Leafpool chose a vole for herself. As she crouched to eat it, Spiderleg and Ashfur came over.

Spiderleg shot Leafpool a swift glance, dipping his head awkwardly. “It’s good to have you back,” he muttered.

Leafpool felt as embarrassed as he looked. She didn’t want to talk to any cat about why she had left the Clan. “It’s good to be back,” she told him. It was a relief to turn to Ashfur and give him Birchpaw’s message. “It’ll be a few days yet before he’s fit to start training again,” she finished.

Ashfur nodded. “I’ll come and see him later,” he promised.

Leafpool ate her vole in a few rapid bites, then headed for the nursery to visit Sorreltail. The sun had cleared the trees at the top of the hollow, shining down from a blue sky dotted with a few white puffs of cloud. Leafpool was grateful for the warmth on her fur. The injured cats would be able to bask in the open while their nests were cleaned out.

The damaged brambles had been dragged out of the nursery the night before, leaving a few ragged holes where the sun shone in. Daisy’s three kits were playing around her, pouncing on the bright spots of light.

“Take that, you horrible badger!” Berrykit squealed.

“Get out of our camp!” Hazelkit growled, while Mousekit spat and showed his teeth.

“That’s enough.” Daisy swept her tail around the three kits, drawing them closer to her. “If you want to play rough games, you must go outside. You’re disturbing Sorreltail. Remember how tiny her kits are.”

“Yeah, we’re not the youngest any more,” Berrykit boasted. “We’ll be apprentices soon.”

Daisy didn’t reply, but Leafpool thought she saw uncertainty in the horseplace cat’s eyes.

Berrykit’s head popped up from behind Daisy’s protective tail. “Hi, Leafpool!” he meowed. “Where have you been? We missed you. Is your friend from WindClan going to stay with us?”

“Shhh,” Daisy mewed, giving Berrykit’s ear a flick with her tail-tip. “Don’t bother Leafpool now. Can’t you see she’s busy?”

Leafpool dipped her head gratefully to Daisy, her mouthful of borage giving her the perfect excuse not to answer. She slid further into the nursery to find Sorreltail.

The young tortoiseshell was curled up in a deep nest of moss and bracken, her four kits burrowing close to her belly. Brackenfur was beside her while the two cats finished off the fresh-kill Stormfur had brought them.

“Hi, Leafpool.” Sorreltail blinked drowsily. “Is that more borage?”

“That’s right.” Leafpool put the leaves down where her friend could reach them. “You need to make sure you have plenty of milk, with four kits to feed.”

“They’re worse than famished foxes,” Brackenfur purred, beaming proudly at his offspring. Leafpool was glad to see he was calmer now, beginning to recover from the shock of the attack, so that he could care for his mate and kits.

“They’re fine, healthy kits,” meowed Leafpool. “Just what the Clan needs.”

As she watched Sorreltail chew up the borage, she remembered the adventures the two of them had shared in the old forest, when she was still an apprentice and Sorreltail was a carefree young warrior. They could never be as close as that again. Now Sorreltail was a mother, while Leafpool was ThunderClan’s medicine cat. When she left with Crowfeather, she had briefly glimpsed what it would be like to turn her back on her duties—but her heart had brought her back to her Clan.

Leafpool felt distance yawning between her and Crowfeather like a mountain gorge. Pain twisted inside her, but she pushed it away. She had chosen the life of a medicine cat; there was no going back.

“Try getting some sleep now,” she mewed to Sorreltail. “Brackenfur, make sure she rests.”

Brackenfur gave Sorreltail’s ears an affectionate lick. “I will.”

Leafpool turned away and blundered out into the bright sunlight, where she stood blinking. She had given up Crowfeather, her mentor was dead, and her best friend had a mate and kits to care for. Even her sister, Squirrelflight, who had once shared everything with Leafpool, was together with Brambleclaw again. Leafpool wanted her sister to be happy, but she missed being closer to her than any other cat.

Oh, StarClan! she murmured. I have given up everything for you. I hope this is what you wanted.

For the rest of the day she buried herself in her duties. Brightheart and Whitepaw worked tirelessly to collect supplies, and by the time the sun went down the stocks of herbs and berries had been replenished, and Leafpool had treated the wounds of every cat in the Clan. As they withdrew to their dens for the rest they badly needed, she looked around the clearing and saw that the terrible scars of the attack were beginning to fade. Dustpelt and his helpers had piled up thorns for a new entrance barrier that was already half completed, while Sandstorm and the other hunters had brought in plenty of prey to build up the fresh-kill pile.

Leafpool was exhausted, but she knew she would be unable to sleep. Instead of going back to her den, she padded across the clearing and out past the partly rebuilt barrier of thorns. Unbidden, her paws carried her towards the lake, until she reached the open ground at the edge of the trees and could gaze out over the starlit water.

Memories flooded back of the nights she had sneaked out of camp to meet Crowfeather. Then her paws had felt as light as air; she had raced through the bracken to their meeting place.

Now everything was changed. Grief and loss weighed her down like stone. She settled into a drift of dry leaves, letting her gaze rest on the starry surface of the lake.

Not many heartbeats passed before she saw that the stars in the water were moving. At first she thought it was just wind ruffling the surface, but all around her the air was still. Her pelt prickled. Above her the stars of Silverpelt blazed down as they had always done, cold, white, and unmoving; but in the lake, some patches of water were dark and empty, while the reflected stars swam sparkling across the surface until they were clustered together in two slender paths.

Leafpool gasped. The stars had become two sets of paw prints, twining together across the indigo water.

Was this a message from StarClan? Was she dreaming? A movement at the far end of the starry paw prints caught her eye, and she peered across the lake. Two cats had appeared, walking away from her with more stars spooling out after them. At first they were indistinct, shadowy shapes; Leafpool strained to make them out, expecting to see warriors from StarClan. Then as the shapes grew clearer she saw that one was a dark tabby with broad shoulders, while the other was smaller, lighter-framed, with dark ginger fur.

Leafpool’s heart thudded harder. It was Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight. They were padding away from her side by side, so close that their pelts brushed together and their tracks merged into a single glittering path. On and on went their paw prints, sparkling across the dark water. Then the cats faded into the shadows, and the reflected stars spilled across the surface of the lake until they matched the stars in the sky once more.

Leafpool shivered. StarClan knew she had been anxious about Brambleclaw, that her trust in him had been shaken by her sinister dream of Tigerstar. They must have sent this sign to let her know that his destiny was so closely intertwined with Squirrelflight’s, no cat could separate their paths.

Surely this meant StarClan approved of Squirrelflight’s choice for her mate? If that was the case, Leafpool had no need to worry about her dark vision of Tigerstar training his sons. She didn’t have to warn Squirrelflight about her relationship with Brambleclaw. Their future rested in the paws of StarClan.

Comfort crept over her like a warm breeze, and she curled up among the rustling leaves and drifted out on a wave of sleep.

Her eyes blinked open what felt like moments later. She still lay in the hollow; shadows of leaves danced over her as the branches of the beech tree moved in a gentle breeze. A sweet scent drifted around her, and she lifted her head to see Spottedleaf sitting on a root a tail-length away.

“Spottedleaf!” she exclaimed, knowing that she was dreaming. Suddenly she remembered the last time she had spoken to the beautiful tortoiseshell and she sprang to her paws, trembling with anger. “You lied to me! You told me to leave ThunderClan and go away with Crowfeather. Cinderpelt died because I left my Clan!”

“Peace, dear one.” Spottedleaf jumped lightly down from the tree root and came over to brush her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “I told you to follow your heart—and your heart lies with your Clan. So you have followed your heart after all.”

Leafpool gazed at her, bewildered. Crowfeather had said exactly the same thing before he left her to go back to WindClan. “Then why didn’t you tell me that’s what you meant?” she protested.

“Would you have listened?” Spottedleaf’s gaze was full of pained love. “You needed to make the choice to go with Crowfeather. It was the only way you could find out that it was the wrong path for you to follow.”

Leafpool knew she was right. She hadn’t understood how committed she was to her Clan until she had tried to leave. “But Cinderpelt died!” she repeated miserably.

“Cinderpelt knew what was going to happen,” Spottedleaf meowed. “She knew there was no way to escape it. Not even StarClan can turn aside the paws of fate. That’s why she didn’t try to stop you from going. Do you think things would have been different if you had stayed?”

“I know they would,” Leafpool insisted. “I would never have left her if I’d known!”

“That is a weight you will carry for a long while, but I promise you could not have done anything to change what happened to Cinderpelt.” Spottedleaf pressed close against Leafpool’s side. Her comforting warmth was still not enough to ease Leafpool’s pain.

“Since she died, I haven’t seen her in my dreams,” Leafpool whispered. “I haven’t felt her presence, smelled her scent, or heard her voice. She must be angry with me, or she would come to me.”

“No, Leafpool. Cinderpelt loved you; do you think she would abandon you, even in death? Her paws walk another path for now.”

Fresh anxiety surged up inside Leafpool. She had thought she understood the links between a medicine cat and the spirits of her warrior ancestors. What was this “other path”? Did Spottedleaf mean that Cinderpelt was wandering in the dark forest where Leafpool had seen Tigerstar?

“What do you mean?” she demanded, her neck fur bristling. “Where is she?”

“That I cannot tell you. But she is well, I promise you, and you will see her again, sooner than you think.”

Spottedleaf ’s voice faded away. The warmth against Leafpool’s side melted into the breeze, and the StarClan cat’s tortoiseshell fur blended into the dapples of light and shadow until Leafpool couldn’t see her any more. Only her scent remained a heartbeat longer.

Leafpool opened her eyes to see the peaceful lake water still dappled with the reflections of countless stars. Fresh grief for Cinderpelt swept over her. Why did she have to die? Why hadn’t she come to Leafpool in her dreams like Spottedleaf? Leafpool wanted to cry like an abandoned kit.

Instead, she rose and stretched. “Wherever you are, Cinderpelt,” she mewed out loud, “if you can hear me, I promise that I will never leave our Clan again. I am their medicine cat now, and I will follow in your paw steps until it’s my turn to walk with StarClan.” Hesitating, she added, “But please, if I ever meant anything to you, come to me when you can and tell me you forgive me.”

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