MOONRISE
Just below her, a swath of churned-up grass stretched as far as the Thunderpath. Trees lay on the ground, their roots tangling in the air. Everything was silent; Leafpaw couldn’t hear a single bird, or the scuffling of prey in the grass. But the monster had gone, and when she opened her jaws to drink in the air, the scent of Twolegs was stale. Even the reek of the monster was beginning to fade.
“They haven’t been here today,” Greystripe meowed. “Perhaps they’ve finished whatever they were doing.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Firestar replied tersely.
“This is . . . terrible.” Brackenfur sounded stunned. He had not been on the original patrol. “Why are they destroying the forest, Firestar?”
The tip of Firestar’s tail twitched back and forth. “Why do Twolegs do anything? If we knew that, our lives would be a lot easier.”
Skirting the edge of the damaged area, he led the way along the Thunderpath. Leafpaw’s belly lurched as she saw that more trees had been felled in ShadowClan’s territory, and more ground had been churned up.
Every one of the ThunderClan cats stopped to stare across the hard black surface. Brackenfur dropped into a crouch as if he were about to spring into attack, but there was no enemy to fight.
“Look at that!” Greystripe’s voice shook with horror. “You were right, Firestar. ShadowClan is having exactly the same trouble.”
“Then that should make it easier to talk to Blackstar.” Firestar was trying to sound confident, but his ears were laid flat against his head.
Cinderpelt gave the scarred area a long look before turning away, shaking her head. Though she said nothing, her blue eyes were filled with dread and confusion.
A monster roared by on the Thunderpath, smaller than the tree-eating monsters but still deafeningly noisy. Leafpaw flinched, half expecting it to veer into the forest where they were standing. But it stayed on the Thunderpath and growled away until it vanished among the trees. Another monster followed it; then a third raced along in the opposite direction.
“I don’t want to cross here,” Greystripe muttered, blinking grit out of his eyes.
Firestar nodded. “We’ll cross the stream by Fourtrees and go through the tunnel,” he decided. “And just hope we don’t meet any ShadowClan warriors on this side of the Thunderpath.”
When they reached the stream, Firestar crossed in a couple of bounds by a stepping-stone in the middle. Leafpaw kept an eye on her mentor, making sure that Cinderpelt crossed safely in spite of the old injury to her leg from a Thunderpath accident seasons before. Then she followed her across as Firestar climbed the opposite bank.
A light breeze was blowing towards them, carrying the rank scent of ShadowClan. At the border, Firestar and Greystripe renewed the scent markings, before Firestar led the way towards the tunnel under the Thunderpath.
To Leafpaw’s relief, there was no sign of ShadowClan cats in this section of their territory. The elders had told her many stories about that Clan’s dark-hearted history, from the murderer Brokenstar, who had killed his own father, to treacherous Tigerstar, who had made himself ShadowClan leader when he was exiled from ThunderClan. The present leader, Blackstar, hadn’t caused any trouble so far, but Leaf paw knew that Firestar didn’t really trust him. As she followed him into the tunnel, she admired him even more for his courage in trying to make allies of his old enemies for the sake of the forest.
Leafpaw shivered as she plunged into the gloomy silence beneath the Thunderpath, broken only by the drip of water and the plashing of their paws in the mud that covered the bottom of the tunnel. On the ShadowClan side the harsh scent was stronger than ever. The ground under Leafpaw’s paws was dank and marshy, covered with coarse scrubby grass. Here and there were pools fringed with reeds; there were few tall trees, unlike those that sheltered the ThunderClan camp. It felt like another world.
“The ShadowClan camp is this way,” Firestar meowed, heading for a clump of bushes. “Leafpaw, Cinderpelt, keep close to me. Greystripe and Brackenfur, spread out and keep watch. And remember that we’re not looking for trouble.”
Leafpaw padded behind Firestar as they headed deeper into ShadowClan territory. She hated the way her paws sank into mud at every step. She kept wanting to stop to flick away the moisture. It was hard to imagine ShadowClan cats putting up with it every day of their lives. Surely they would have grown webbed paws by now? Her muscles began to ache from the strain of keeping alert; when Brackenfur called out she jumped nervously and then hoped that no cat had noticed.
“Firestar, come and look at this.” Brackenfur pointed with his tail to a thin piece of wood, too smooth and regular to be the branch of a tree, standing upright in the ground about the height of a cat. Firestar padded over to and sniffed at it suspiciously. “It reeks of Twolegs,” he reported.
“There’s another over there,” Leafpaw called, spotting a matching stick a few fox-lengths further away. “And another—all in a line! What are they—”
Her voice died away. As she bounded towards the next piece of wood, the bushes in front of her rustled and three cats stepped out into the open. She quickly recognised Russetfur, the dark ginger she-cat who was ShadowClan’s deputy; the other warriors, a dark grey tom and a lean tabby with a torn ear, were strangers to her.
Leafpaw swallowed nervously.
Firestar was already bounding up to her. “Greetings, Russetfur,” he meowed.
“You’re trespassing on our territory,” snarled the Shadow -Clan deputy.
With a flick of her tail she summoned her warriors forwards. Leafpaw barely had time to dodge, as the dark grey tom sprang at her; she felt claws rake down her side as she rolled away and scrambled to her paws, trying to remember her fighting moves. She caught a glimpse of Cinderpelt and Russetfur stalking around each other; a tail-length away, Greystripe had the tabby pinned down, while Brackenfur and the other tom writhed together in a screeching bundle of grey and ginger fur.
For a moment she could not see Firestar. Glancing around wildly, she saw that he had leaped on to one of the fallen tree trunks. His voice rose in a yowl above the hissing and spitting.
“Stop!”
CHAPTER 3
“You lot stay here,” Purdy ordered in an undertone. “Let me deal with this.”
Stormfur stared in dismay as the old tom shuffled forwards towards the foxes, his rumpled fur on end, his tail lashing back and forth. Frozen by shock, the others might have let Purdy attack and be torn to pieces if Stormfur had not stepped forwards at the last moment and pushed him aside.
“Wha’?” Purdy protested. “Let me get at ’em. I’ve chased off more foxes than you’ve had mice, young fellow.”
“Then give the rest of us a chance,” Stormfur retorted grimly.
The two foxes were creeping slowly up the bank, their eyes flicking from one cat to the next. Too late Stormfur realised that he and his friends had been wrong to assume the woods held no danger for them.
He saw that Crowpaw had stepped forwards to shield Feathertail, while Brambleclaw tried to do the same for Squirrelpaw. But the ThunderClan apprentice slipped out from the shelter of his flank and stood beside him with her ears flattened and one paw extended threateningly.
“What are you doing, treading on my tail?” she growled. “I can take care of myself!”
“You did say you could eat a fox,” Tawnypelt pointed out wryly. “Now’s your chance.”
The foxes crept nearer. Stormfur braced himself, his gaze fixed on their narrow snouts and coldly glittering eyes, trying to guess where they would attack first. Back home, foxes weren’t much of a threat to cats who kept alert. They could be avoided, but these were obviously young and spoiling for a fight, eager to defend their territory. Stormfur was sure that the six of them could drive the creatures off eventually, but not without serious injuries. And what would that mean for their journey? StarClan help us! he prayed desperately.
Crowpaw, who was nearest to the foxes, crouched to spring. There was barely a tail-length between him and the first of them when Stormfur heard a strange sound behind him, half growling and half barking. The leading fox abruptly lifted its head and stood very still.
Stormfur flicked a glance over his shoulder. Midnight had lumbered forwards, thrusting her way between Purdy and Feathertail until she stood in front of the foxes. She said something else in the same mixture of barks and growls. Although Stormfur could not understand what she was saying, there was no mistaking the threat in the way her shoulders hunched, or the hostility in her black eyes.
Then his ears pricked in shock as the first fox barked what was obviously a reply. “I’d forgotten Midnight told us she could speak fox,” he muttered, glancing at Brambleclaw. The ThunderClan warrior nodded without taking his eyes off the foxes.
“They say this is their place,” Midnight reported. “To come here is to be their prey.”
“Fox dung to that!” Crowpaw burst out. “Tell them if they try anything, we’ll rip their fur off.”
Midnight shook her head. “No, small warrior. Cat fur be ripped also. Wait.”
Crowpaw backed off a pace or two, still looking furious, and Feathertail pressed her nose against his flank.
Midnight said something else to the foxes. “I tell them you only pass through,” she explained to the cats when she had finished. “I tell them much prey is here in woods, easier prey that does not rip fur.”
The leading fox was looking confused now, perhaps out of surprise at hearing a badger speak fox, perhaps because it was taking her arguments seriously. But the second—a lean dog fox with a scarred muzzle—was still glaring past Midnight at the group of cats, his teeth bared. He snarled out something that was a threat in any language.
Midnight barked a single word. Taking a step forwards, she raised a paw, her massive body poised to strike. Every hair on Stormfur’s pelt prickled as he braced himself for a fight. Then the dog fox started to back away, growling a last curse at Midnight before turning and vanishing into the bracken. Midnight’s gaze swivelled to his companion, but the other fox paused only to bark out something rapidly before following.
“And don’t come back, if you know what’s good for you!” Crowpaw yowled after them.
Stormfur relaxed, feeling his fur lie flat again. Squirrelpaw flopped down on the ground with a noisy sigh. All the cats, even Purdy, were looking at the badger with new respect.
Brambleclaw padded over to her and dipped his head. “Thanks, Midnight,” he meowed. “That could have been nasty.”
“They might have killed us,” Feathertail added.
“I suppose it’s a bad time for a fight,” Crowpaw admitted. Stormfur sighed at the aggressive note in the apprentice’s voice as he went on, “All the same, I’d like to know why you didn’t warn us about the foxes. You said you can read everything in the stars, so why didn’t you tell us they’d be here?”
Even though he would never have asked the question, Stormfur waited tensely for Midnight’s reply. She had told them so much already about the threat to the forest and how they must go home and lead the Clans to safety. If they did not trust her, they and all their Clanmates would be helpless in the face of destruction. Could she have warned them about the foxes?
For a moment the badger loomed over the WindClan apprentice, her black eyes furious. Crowpaw could not hide a flash of alarm in his eyes, though to his credit he did not back down. Then Midnight relaxed. “I not say everything. Everything indeed StarClan not want me to say. Much, yes, how Twolegs tear up forest, leave no place for cats to stay. But many answers lie within ourselves. This you have already learned, no?”
“I suppose,” Crowpaw muttered.
Midnight turned away from him. “Foxes say you must go now,” she told the cats. “If you still here at sunset, they attack. That dog fox, he says he tasted cat once, liked it fine.”
“Well, he’s not going to taste it again!” snapped Tawnypelt.
“We have to leave anyway,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “And we’re not looking for trouble from foxes. Let’s go.”
They paused for a few moments to gulp down the rest of the prey. Then Midnight took the lead, and brought them after a short time to the edge of the forest. The sun was dipping below the trees, and where they stood was already in shadow. In front of them, Stormfur saw yet more open moorland, with a range of mountains in the distance; over to one side were the hard reddish shapes of the Twolegplace they had travelled through on the outward journey.
“Which way now?” he asked.
Midnight raised one paw to point straight ahead. “That quickest way, path where sun rises.”
“It’s not the way we came,” Brambleclaw mewed uneasily. “We came through Twolegplace.”
“And I’m not going back there!” Crowpaw put in. “I’ll climb as many mountains as you like before I face all those Twolegs again.”
“I’m not sure,” Feathertail meowed. “At least we know the way through Twolegplace, and we’ve got Purdy to help us.”
Crowpaw replied only with a contemptuous snort. Stormfur half agreed with him; they had spent many frightening, hungry days wandering in Twolegplace, and Purdy had seemed as lost as any of them. But the mountains were unfamiliar too; even from here, Stormfur could see that their upper slopes were bare grey rock, with a streak of white here and there that must be the first snow of the approaching leaf-bare. They were far higher than Highstones, and he wondered how much shelter or prey they would find there.
“I agree with Feathertail,” he meowed at last. “We made it through Twolegplace once, so we can do it again.”
Brambleclaw glanced from one to another, undecided. “What do you think, Tawnypelt?”
His sister shrugged. “Whatever you like. There’ll be problems whichever way we go; we all know that.”
True enough, Stormfur thought grimly.
“Well, I think—” Squirrelpaw began, and broke off with a gasp. Her green eyes had widened with an expression of horror; they seemed to be fixed on something in the distance that no other cat could see.
“Squirrelpaw? What’s the matter?” Brambleclaw meowed urgently.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Squirrelpaw gave herself a shake. “Just make your mind up, Brambleclaw, and let’s be off. I want to go that way if it’s the quickest route—” She flicked her tail towards the distant mountains. “We’ll waste days and days going through Twolegplace again.”
Stormfur’s whiskers began to tingle. Squirrelpaw was right. They already knew that the route among the Twoleg nests was confusing and difficult. What dangers could there be in the mountains that could be worse than the rats and monsters they knew they would meet in Twolegplace? All that mattered was to get back to the forest without delay.
“I think she’s got a point,” he meowed. “I’ve changed my mind. I vote we should go through the mountains.”
Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger tail twitched to and fro, and she flexed her claws into the grass. “Well?” she spat at Brambleclaw. “Are you going to make up your mind or not?”
Brambleclaw took a deep breath. “OK, the mountains it is.”
“Eh? Wha’?” Purdy had been scratching one ear with his hind paw. But when Brambleclaw made his decision he looked up in alarm, blinking his wide amber eyes. “You can’t go that way. It’s dangerous. What about the—”
“Danger is all around,” Midnight broke in, silencing Purdy with a fierce glare. “Your friends great courage will need. The path has been laid out for them in the stars.”
Stormfur shot a sharp look at the old tabby. What had Purdy been trying to say when Midnight interrupted him? Did he know of some particular danger in the mountains? And if so, why had Midnight stopped him from telling the rest of them? He thought that he could see wisdom in her face, and something like regret. Just what did she mean by “the path has been laid out”?
“Choice is hard, young warrior.” The badger spoke in a low tone to Brambleclaw. Stormfur edged a pace closer so that he could hear. “Your path before you lies, and many challenges you will have to return safe home.”
Brambleclaw gazed into the badger’s eyes for a long moment before padding forwards a few paces across the moorland. Whatever these challenges might be, he seemed ready to face them, and Stormfur couldn’t help admiring his resolve, even though he came from a rival Clan. When Purdy scrambled to his feet to follow, Midnight put out a paw to hold him back.
The old tom bristled, his amber eyes glaring. “Get out o’ my way,” he rasped.
Midnight did not move. “With them you cannot go,” she rumbled. “The way is theirs alone.” Her black eyes gleamed in the dusk. “Young and rash they are, and tests will be many. Their own courage they need, my friend, not yours. Too much on you they would rely.”
Purdy blinked. “Well, if you put it like that . . .”
Feathertail darted up to him and gave his ears a quick lick. “We’ll never forget you, Purdy, or everything you’ve done for us.”
Just behind her, Crowpaw opened his mouth with his eyes narrowed, as if he was about to say something cutting. Stormfur froze him with a glare. He doubted they would see the old cat again, and although Purdy had made mistakes, he had stood by them and brought them safely to Midnight in the end.
“Goodbye, Purdy. And thank you. We could never have found Midnight without you.” Brambleclaw echoed Stormfur’s thoughts. “And thank you, too, Midnight.”
The badger inclined her head. “Farewell, my friends. May StarClan light your path.”
The rest of the cats said their own goodbyes, and began to follow Brambleclaw out on to the moor. Stormfur brought up the rear. Glancing back, he saw Midnight and Purdy sitting side by side under the outlying trees, watching them go. It was impossible to read their expressions in the gathering dusk. Stormfur waved his tail in a last farewell, and turned his face toward the mountains.
CHAPTER 4
At Firestar’s yowl of command, Brackenfur and the grey ShadowClan warrior broke apart. Greystripe looked up from the tabby, but still kept a paw firmly on his neck.
“Let him go,” Firestar ordered. “We’re not here to fight.”
“It’s hard to do anything else when they jump us like that,” Greystripe hissed. He stepped back, and the skinny tabby scrambled to his paws and shook his ruffled fur.
Leafpaw bounded across the marshy ground to stand beside Cinderpelt, half afraid that Russetfur might still attack the medicine cat. ShadowClan’s deputy was not likely to take orders from the leader of a rival Clan.
Russetfur flicked her tail towards the dark grey tom. “Cedarheart, get back to camp. Warn Blackstar that we have been invaded, and fetch more warriors.”
The grey warrior streaked off into the bushes.
“There’s no need for that,” Firestar pointed out, keeping his voice mild. “We’re not invading your territory, and we’re not trying to steal prey.”
“Then what do you want?” Russetfur demanded bad-temperedly. “What are we supposed to think when you trespass on our territory?”
“I’m sorry about that.” Firestar leaped down from the tree trunk and padded across to her. “I . . . I know we shouldn’t be here. It’s just that I have to speak to Blackstar. Something has happened, something that’s too urgent to wait for the next Gathering.”
Russetfur sniffed disbelievingly, but sheathed her claws. Leafpaw felt her racing heart begin to slow down. The ShadowClan deputy was too badly outnumbered to launch another attack, especially when she had sent away the grey tom, Cedarheart.
“What’s so urgent then?” she growled.
Firestar gestured with his tail through the sparse trees, towards the swath of destruction that the Twoleg monster had left on this side of the Thunderpath. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked desperately.
Russetfur silenced him with a furious hiss. “If you think ShadowClan is weakened . . .”
“I didn’t say that,” Firestar protested. “But you must have seen that we’ve had the same trouble in our territory. Now, are you going to drive us off, or are you going to let us talk to Blackstar?”
Russetfur narrowed her eyes, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Follow me.”
She led the way through the bushes. The ThunderClan cats bunched together behind her, and the tabby ShadowClan warrior brought up the rear. Leafpaw’s heart began to pound again as the scents of the strange territory flowed around her. Even the day had grown darker, clouds covering the sun so that their path was shadowed. She tried to stop herself from jumping at every sound, or staring around as if there might be a ShadowClan warrior lurking behind every tree.
Soon Leafpaw became aware of a stronger ShadowClan scent coming from up ahead. Russetfur led the way around a thick clump of hazel; following her, Leafpaw stopped dead in front of a long line of cats—lean warriors with their muscles tensed and the light of battle in their eyes. Behind them rose a tangled wall of brambles.
“That’s the ShadowClan camp,” Cinderpelt muttered close to Leafpaw’s ear. “It doesn’t look as if Blackstar is going to invite us in.”
The ShadowClan leader stood in the middle of his warriors. He was a huge white cat with black paws; his pelt showed the scars of many battles. As the ThunderClan cats appeared he stepped forward and faced Firestar with narrowed eyes.
“What’s this?” His voice was rough. “Does the great Firestar think he can go where he likes in the forest?”
Firestar ignored the contempt in Blackstar’s tone, simply dipping his head in the courteous greeting of one leader to another. “I have come to talk to you about what the Twolegs are doing,” he began. “We have to decide what we’re going to do if it carries on.”
“We? What do you mean, we? ShadowClan does not talk with ThunderClan,” Blackstar retorted. “We make our own decisions.”
“But the forest is being destroyed!”
Leafpaw heard the exasperation in her leader’s tone, and knew how hard it was for Firestar to stay calm when the ShadowClan leader insisted on treating him like an enemy.
The ShadowClan leader shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Firestar, you’re panicking over nothing. Twolegs are mad. Even the smallest kit knows that. True, they knocked down a few trees—but now they’ve gone away again. Whatever was going on, it’s over.”
Leafpaw wondered if Blackstar really believed that. Surely he couldn’t be such a fool? Or was this just a show of bravado to convince Firestar that ShadowClan had nothing to worry about?
“And if it’s not over?” Firestar asked steadily. “If it gets worse? Prey has been frightened away from where the Twolegs have been. What if the Twolegs claw up more of our territories? What will you do in leaf-bare, Blackstar, if you can’t feed your Clan?”
One or two of the ShadowClan warriors looked uneasy, but their leader stared defiantly at Firestar.
“We have no reason to fear leaf-bare,” he meowed. “We can always eat rats from Carrionplace.”
Cinderpelt twitched her ears impatiently. “Have you forgotten what happened last time you tried that? Half your Clan died from sickness.”
“That’s true.” A small tabby tom, crouched at the end of the line, spoke up boldly. Leafpaw recognised Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I was ill myself. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you, Cinderpelt.”
“Be quiet, Littlecloud,” Blackstar ordered. “The sickness was a punishment from StarClan because Nightstar was not a properly chosen leader. There’s no danger in eating food from Carrionplace now.”
“There’s danger if a leader silences his medicine cat,” Cinderpelt retorted tartly. “Or pretends to know more than they do about the will of StarClan.”
Blackstar glared at her, but said nothing.
“Listen to me,” Firestar began again desperately. “I believe that great trouble is coming to the forest, trouble that we’ll survive only if we work together.”