STARLIGHT

Warriors

The New Prophecy

STARLIGHT

ERIN

HUNTER

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

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

Keep Reading

About the Author

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

MAPS

PROLOGUE

Moonlight washed over the hillside, casting heavy shadows around a thick wall of thornbushes. The bushes surrounded a hollow with rocky sides that sloped down steeply to a pool in the shape of a full moon. Halfway up the side of the hollow, a trickle of water bubbled up between two moss-covered stones, glimmering like liquid starshine as it fell into the pool below.

The branches rustled and parted as cats emerged at the top of the hollow and began to pick their way down to the water’s edge. Their pelts shone with a soft, pale light, and their pawsteps left a frosty glitter on the moss behind them.

A tortoiseshell she-cat was the first to reach the pool. She looked around with glowing eyes. “Yes,” she purred. “This is the place.”

“You’re right, Spottedleaf. When we chose the four cats to lead the Clans out of the forest, we chose well.” The reply came from a blue-grey warrior who was approaching from the other side of the hollow. She leaped down from a jutting rock to face the tortoiseshell across the moonlit water. “But the Clans still have a hard task ahead of them.”

Spottedleaf dipped her head in agreement. “Yes, Bluestar. Their courage and faith will be tried to their limits. But they have come this far—they will not give up.”

More starry warriors joined them, clustering around the water until the hollow was lined with their sleek, shining shapes.

“Our journey was hard, too,” one cat meowed.

“We felt the pain of leaving the paths we had walked for so long,” added another.

“Now we must learn to walk in new skies.” Spottedleaf’s voice was full of confidence. She sat on a rock near the tumbling stream and wrapped her tail around her paws. “We must guide our Clans to this new meeting place, where we can speak to the leaders and medicine cats. Then this will truly be home for all five Clans.”

A murmur of agreement rose, and a gleam of hope shone in the eyes of the cats around her.

“They will catch fish from the lake,” one cat meowed.

“And prey is running in the hills and beside the water,” another put in. “All the Clans will find food, even in leaf-bare.”

The blue-grey warrior still seemed uneasy. “There’s more to life than fresh-kill,” she mewed.

A bracken-coloured tom thrust his way to the front of the crowd. “They’re not kits,” he pointed out impatiently. “They know how to avoid Twolegs and their dogs. Foxes and badgers, too.”

“Not all trouble comes from Twolegs,” Bluestar snapped. She swiveled her head to glare into the tom’s eyes. “And not from foxes or badgers either, Oakheart. You know that as well as I do. The Clans bring trouble within themselves.”

The warriors glanced uneasily at one another, but Oakheart dipped his head. “Of course. And they always will. That is part of what it means to be a warrior.”

“Trouble from within greatest danger brings.” A new voice spoke, deep and gravelly.

Bluestar whipped around, her neck fur rising, and stared at the newcomer standing at the top of the hollow. It was too big and solid to be a cat. Instead, it seemed as if a clot of darkness had entered the circle of thornbushes, in which the watching cats could just make out broad, muscular limbs and the gleam of small, bright eyes.

After a few heartbeats Bluestar relaxed. “Welcome, friend,” she meowed. “StarClan owes you thanks. You have done well.”

“By me is little done,” the newcomer replied. “These cats their destiny have faced with courage.”

“The Clans have travelled far and suffered a great deal of sadness that we were powerless to ease,” Spottedleaf agreed. “They kept going even when we lost sight and hearing of them among the mountains, when they walked the paths of a different Tribe. Now they must learn to be four Clans again.” She looked solemn. “There will be much pain, especially for those who travelled together to the sun-drown-water. They won’t find it easy to forget their friendship.”

“They must mark out their new territories as soon as they can.” Oakheart’s voice rumbled in his throat. “There’ll be trouble there.”

“Every loyal warrior will want the best for their Clan,” meowed Bluestar.

“So long as it is their Clan that they fight for,” returned Oakheart, “and not themselves.”

“That’s where the danger lies,” murmured an anxious voice. A tomcat with a glossy black coat was gazing down into the silvery water as if he could see danger rising to the surface like a giant fish. “I see one cat, hungry for power that is not deserved . . .”

“Not deserved?” A lean tom with a crooked jaw sprang to his paws on the other side of the pool, the fur on his shoulders bristling in fury. “Nightstar, how dare you say ‘not deserved’?”

The black tom’s pelt rippled in the moonlight as he looked up. “Very well, Crookedstar, not deserved yet,” he meowed. “This cat needs to learn the virtue of patience. Power is not a piece of prey to be grabbed before it escapes.”

The cat with the crooked jaw sat down again, though the anger stayed in his eyes. “Would you have all our warriors as timid as mice?” he muttered.

Nightstar’s eyes narrowed and his tail-tip twitched, but before he could spit out a reply another cat padded forward: a thick-furred grey she-cat with a broad face and a fierce gleam in her eyes. She stood beside Spottedleaf at the mossy edge of the pool and gazed down into the water. After a few moments, ripples began to spread in circles from the middle of the pool and wash against the bank.

The grey she-cat lifted her head. “I have seen what will come,” she growled. “There are dark times ahead.”

A stir of anxiety passed through the cats like wind rippling through reeds, but no cat dared to question her out loud.

“Well?” Bluestar demanded when the silence had stretched out for several heartbeats. “Tell us what you mean, Yellowfang.”

The grey she-cat hesitated. “I am not certain what I have seen,” she rasped at last. “And you won’t like what I have to tell you.” She closed her eyes, and when she spoke her voice was deeper and quieter than before, so that every cat had to strain to listen: “‘Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red.’”

Bluestar stiffened, and she bent her head to look into the water. A red stain was spreading across the surface, rippling outward until the water flamed scarlet. It seemed to reflect the fire of sunset, yet above the hollow the moon still floated in thin drifts of cloud.

A gasp of horror rose from the cats. Spottedleaf padded forward, trembling, and stared desperately into the water as if she were searching for something that would challenge Yellowfang’s ominous words.

“Are you trying to find out what will happen to Firestar?” Bluestar asked her gently. “Don’t search too hard, Spottedleaf. You of all cats should know that sometimes there is nothing we can do.”

Spottedleaf raised her head, and there was a fiercely determined light in her eyes. “I would do anything to help Firestar,” she hissed. “I will protect him with all the power of StarClan.”

“But even that may not be enough,” Bluestar warned her.

Around them, the warriors of StarClan began to pad away from the pool, climbing the slope and slipping back through the thornbushes until the shimmer of their pelts vanished and the only light in the hollow came from the reflection of the moon in the water.

The creature in the shadows remained a moment longer, watching in silence until the last cat had gone. Then she stirred, and a shaft of moonlight struck her powerful shoulders.

“Midnight, this not your place,” she growled to herself. “Is no more to do.” She paused and added, “Once more, maybe, with Clans I will meet. Clouded is time to come.”

As she turned to push her way back through the thorns, the moonlight caught the broad white stripe down the badger’s head; then Midnight was gone, and the hollow was left empty.

CHAPTER 1

Brambleclaw stood at the top of the slope, gazing at the clawpricks of silver fire reflected in the lake below. The Clans had finally found their new home, just as Midnight had promised. StarClan was waiting for them, and they were safe from the Twoleg monsters at last.

Around him warriors from all four Clans murmured to each other, staring uneasily at the dark, unfamiliar space at the foot of the hill.

“It’s impossible to tell what’s down there in this light.” Brightheart, a ginger-and-white ThunderClan warrior, swung around so that her one good eye could take in the whole of the landscape.

Her mate, Cloudtail, twitched his tail. “How bad can it be? Think what we’ve come through to get here. We can fight off anything on four legs.”

“And what about Twolegs?” demanded Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy.

“The journey has left us all tired and weak,” Blackclaw of WindClan added. “Foxes and badgers could track us down easily when we’re all out in the open like this.”

For a moment Brambleclaw felt a tremor of fear. Then he braced his shoulders. StarClan would not have brought them here if they did not believe the Clans could survive in their new territories.

“What are we waiting for?” a new voice spoke up. “Are we going to stand here all night?”

Stifling a mrrow of laughter, Brambleclaw turned to see his Clanmate Squirrelpaw standing behind him. The ginger apprentice was tearing the tough, springy grass with her front paws, her green eyes glowing with anticipation.

“Brambleclaw, look!” she purred. “We did it! We found our new home!”

She tucked her hindlegs under her, ready to dash down the hill, but before she could take off, Firestar pushed through the cats and stood in her way.

“Wait.” The ThunderClan leader touched his daughter’s shoulder affectionately with the tip of his tail. “We’ll go together, and keep a sharp lookout for trouble. This may be the place that StarClan wished us to find, but they would not expect us to leave our wits in the forest.”

Squirrelpaw dipped her head respectfully and stepped back, but when she shot a sideways glance at Brambleclaw, he saw that her eyes still gleamed with excitement. For Squirrelpaw, their journey’s end could not possibly be scary.

Firestar padded over to join Blackstar and Leopardstar, the leaders of ShadowClan and RiverClan. “I suggest we send a patrol ahead,” he meowed. “Just a couple of cats, to find out what it’s like down there.”

“Good idea—but we can’t just stand here and wait for them to return,” Leopardstar objected. “It’s much too exposed.”

Blackstar grunted in agreement. “If a fox came along now, it could pick off the weaker cats with no trouble at all.”

“But we need to rest.” Mudclaw of WindClan came up to join the discussion. His leader, Tallstar, lay on the ground a little way off, with the medicine cat Barkface crouching over him. “Tallstar can’t go much further.”

“Then let’s send the patrol right away,” Firestar suggested, “and the rest of us will follow more slowly until we find somewhere more sheltered. Yes, Mudclaw,” he added, as the WindClan deputy opened his mouth to argue, “we’re all tired, but we’ll sleep more easily if we’re not stuck out on the open hillside like this.”

Blackstar called Russetfur over to him, while Leopardstar signalled with her tail for her deputy, Mistyfoot.

“I want you to go as far as the lake, then come straight back,” Leopardstar ordered. “Find out what you can, but be quick, and stay out of sight.”

The two cats flicked their ears, then whirled and raced away, loping along with their bellies close to the ground; within a couple of heartbeats they had vanished into the darkness.

Firestar watched them go before letting out a yowl to call the rest of the cats around him. Mudclaw went back to Tallstar and nudged the old leader to his paws. Their Clans clustered together behind the leaders of ThunderClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan and began to follow them down the slope towards the lake.

“What’s the matter?” Squirrelpaw demanded, noticing that Brambleclaw wasn’t moving. “Why are you standing there like a frozen rabbit?”

“I want . . .” Brambleclaw glanced around and spotted his sister Tawnypelt padding past a little way off; he summoned her with a jerk of his head. “I want all of us to go down together,” he explained when the tortoiseshell she-cat joined them. “All the cats who made the first journey.”

Four cats remained from the six who had left the forest in search of a new home many moons ago. They had gained something very precious on that journey, as well as a safe place for their Clans to live: a strong bond of friendship had been forged between them, stronger than rock and deeper than the endless water that washed against the cliffs where Midnight the badger lived.

Now Brambleclaw wanted to travel with his friends one more time before their duties to their separate Clans forced them apart.

Tawnypelt let out a purr of approval. Meeting her green gaze, Brambleclaw knew that, like him, she understood they would soon be rivals again; that the next time they met could be in battle. The pain of parting swelled in his heart, and he pressed his muzzle to his sister’s, feeling her breath warm against his whiskers.

“Where’s Crowfeather?” she asked.

Brambleclaw looked up and spotted the young WindClan warrior a few tail-lengths away, anxiously pacing beside Tallstar. The WindClan leader looked so exhausted he could hardly put one paw in front of the other; his long tail dragged on the ground and he was leaning heavily on the brown tabby warrior Onewhisker. The WindClan medicine cat, Barkface, walked close behind, a worried look on his face.

“Hey, Crowfeather!” Squirrelpaw called.

The WindClan cat bounded across. “What do you want?”

Brambleclaw ignored his unwelcoming tone. Crowfeather’s tongue was sharp enough to slice your ears off, but if danger threatened he would fight to his last breath to defend his friends.

“Travel down to the lake with us,” he urged. “I want us to finish the journey how we started—together.”

Crowfeather bowed his head. “There’s no point,” he murmured. “We’ll never be together again. Stormfur lives in the mountains now, and Feathertail is dead.”

Brambleclaw ran his tail lightly over the young warrior’s shoulder. He shared his grief for the beautiful RiverClan cat who had sacrificed her life to save Crowfeather and the Tribe cats from the terrible lion-cat known as Sharptooth. Then Feathertail’s brother Stormfur had stayed with the Tribe of Rushing Water because of his love for the prey-hunter Brook. Brambleclaw missed him bitterly, but knew that pain was nothing compared to the agony Crowfeather felt over Feathertail’s death.

“Feathertail is with us now,” Squirrelpaw insisted, coming to join them. Her eyes shone with the strength of her belief. “If you don’t know that, Crowfeather, you’re even more mousebrained than I thought. And we’ll see Stormfur again, I’m sure. We’re closer to the mountains here than we were in the forest.”

Crowfeather let out a long sigh. “OK,” he meowed. “Let’s go.”

Most of the cats had gone past them already, moving cautiously across the unfamiliar territory, keeping close to each other as they had done throughout the long and dangerous journey to get here. A little way ahead, Brambleclaw saw Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, walking beside a group of apprentices from all four Clans. On the far side of a patch of gorse, the ground fell away into a grassy hollow. Tallpoppy, a ShadowClan queen, was struggling to guide her kits down the steep slope; Cloudtail and Brightheart from ThunderClan darted over to help, each picking up a kit in their jaws. Further down the slope, Cedarheart, a grey ShadowClan tom, prowled along the edge of a thorn thicket, his gaze flicking back and forth as he kept watch for foxes and badgers that might be looking for easy prey.

If he had not known these cats all his life, Brambleclaw would not have been able to distinguish one Clan from another; they walked side by side, helping one another. He wondered grimly how long it would be before they were divided again, and how painful that separation would be.

At an impatient exclamation from Squirrelpaw—“Come on, Brambleclaw, or we’ll leave you to make a den for yourself here!”—he headed down the slope, pausing every so often to draw in the night air. The scent of cat was strongest, but beneath it he could detect the scents of mouse and vole and rabbit. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten; surely the leaders would allow them to hunt soon?

He was imagining the delicious taste of fresh-kill when he was startled by a hiss from Tawnypelt, who was a couple of tail-lengths ahead of him. “Look at that,” spat the Shadow Clan warrior, pointing with her tail.

Brambleclaw’s ears pricked when he saw the thin mesh of a Twoleg fence shining like a huge cobweb in the pale dawn light. Two or three of the other cats had paused to stare apprehensively at it as well.

“I knew we’d come across Twolegs sooner or later!” Squirrelpaw meowed with a disgusted twitch of her tail.

Brambleclaw tasted the air again. He could pick up the scent of Twolegs, but it was faint and stale. There was another, less familiar scent too, and he had to think hard before he remembered what it was.

“Horses.” Crowfeather confirmed his guess. “There’s one over there.”

He gestured with his tail, and Brambleclaw noticed a large, dark shape standing under a clump of trees some way inside the fence. He thought there was another one beside it, though it was hard to tell in the shadows cast by the branches.

“What are horses?” Whitepaw mewed worriedly as she peered through the fence.

“Nothing to worry about,” Tornear from WindClan reassured her, touching the apprentice’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “They used to run across our territory sometimes, with Twolegs on their backs.”

Whitetail blinked as if she couldn’t quite believe him.

“We saw some of them on our journey to the sun-drown-water,” Brambleclaw added. “They didn’t take any notice of us when we crossed their field. It’s the Twolegs looking after them that we need to watch out for.”

“I can’t see any Twoleg nests,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “Maybe these horse things look after themselves.”

“Let’s hope so,” meowed Brambleclaw. “Horses alone shouldn’t bother us.”

“Provided we stay away from their clumsy feet,” added Squirrelpaw.

The cats followed the Twoleg fence until they came to a thicket of trees where the other cats were gathering. Glancing around, Brambleclaw spotted Cinderpelt, the ThunderClan medicine cat, and her apprentice, Leafpaw, Squirrelpaw’s sister.

“What’s going on?” Squirrelpaw demanded. “Why are we stopping?”

“The patrol the leaders sent has just come back,” Cinderpelt explained.

Following her gaze, Brambleclaw saw the leaders of the four Clans and the WindClan deputy, Mudclaw, standing close together beside a tree stump. Mistyfoot and Russetfur, who had been sent on the patrol, faced them. The other cats had sunk down on the short, springy grass around the tree stump, glad of the chance to rest.

With the others behind him, Brambleclaw weaved through the cats until he was close enough to hear what the Clan leaders were saying.

Mistyfoot was just giving her report: “The ground’s very boggy by the lake. There’s no point going any further until daylight. We don’t want to lose any cats in the mud.”

“ShadowClan is used to wet ground underpaw,” Blackstar reminded her, before any of the other leaders could comment. “But we’ll stay with the rest of you if that’s what you want.” There was an edge to his tone, as if ShadowClan were granting them a huge favour by not going ahead to explore on their own.

Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. It seemed too soon for the Clans to begin competing with one another over who claimed which part of the new territory. He had grown used to having all four Clans around him, ignoring the differences that had kept them apart for more seasons than any cat could remember. He was also afraid that some cats were weaker and more exhausted than others, which might make any clashes more damaging than they needed to be.

He hoped the leaders would decide to stay where they were for the rest of the night. The hills were still close enough to cut down the force of the wind, and the trees provided even more welcome shelter. A strong scent of prey drifted from the shadows, and his paws itched to hunt.