DAWN

CHAPTER 3

Squirrelpaw raced ahead of Brambleclaw and Stormfur towards the ravine where the ThunderClan camp lay. The stench of Twoleg monsters hung in the air, and her heart grew as heavy as a stone when she heard a rumbling roar up ahead.

“They’re here already!” she whispered. There was an unfamiliar slash of brightness where a gap had appeared in the trees that bordered the ravine. Before, the forest had crowded right up to the edge of the steep slope that led down into the camp.

Squirrelpaw felt Brambleclaw’s pelt brush hers as he crept alongside and peered out from the trees. “Go carefully,” he murmured without looking at her.

A broad trail had been gouged through the forest. The ground, once hidden by ferns and smoothed by many moons’ pawsteps, was lumpy and muddy, churned up like the moorland. Their way to the ravine was blocked by monsters, roaring and growling as they chewed through more trees. Squirrelpaw shrank back under the bracken, flattening her ears.

“Midnight warned us it would be bad,” Brambleclaw reminded her. His voice was oddly calm, and Squirrelpaw pressed herself close to him, seeking comfort from the warmth of his fur. “We can’t cross here,” he went on. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll have to go around and approach the camp from the other side.”

“You lead the way,” Stormfur suggested. “You know the forest here better than I do.” He glanced at Squirrelpaw. “Are you OK?”

Squirrelpaw lifted her chin. “I’m fine. All I want to do is get back to the Clan.”

“Come on then,” mewed Brambleclaw, and he set off at a fast trot, away from the Twoleg devastation.

They turned away from the monsters and sped through the trees. As she raced towards the sandy clearing where she had trained with the other apprentices, Squirrelpaw wondered grimly how the Clan could have survived with the Twolegs and monsters so close. The sun was high in the sky, and the training hollow was crisscrossed with shafts of cold sunlight. She dug her paws into the soft ground and pushed on ahead of Brambleclaw and Stormfur, her chest tightening with fear as she tore along the trail that led to the gorse tunnel. Without hesitating, she ducked her head and raced into the thorns.

“Firestar!” she yowled as she exploded into the clearing.

It was completely empty. The whole camp was silent. No cat stirred, and the scent of the Clan was stale.

On trembling legs, Squirrelpaw padded to her father’s den underneath the tall grey rock where he normally stood to address the Clan. For one wild moment, she thought Firestar might still be there in spite of the danger that roared at the brink of the ravine. But his mossy bedding was damp and musty, unused for several days. Squirrelpaw slipped out of the cleft in the rock and found her way into the nursery. Kits and elders were always the last to leave the camp, and there was nowhere safer than in the heart of the bramble thicket that had protected many generations of ThunderClan cats.

There was nothing inside except the stench of a fox, almost hiding the faint scent of helpless kits and their mothers. Blind panic rose in her chest. There was a rustle of branches, and Brambleclaw appeared at her side.

“F-fox!” she stammered.

“It’s OK,” Brambleclaw reassured her. “The scent is stale. The fox must have been trying his luck, hoping the Clan had left unguarded kits behind. There’s no sign of bl—of a fight,” he amended hastily.

“But where has the Clan gone?” Squirrelpaw wailed. She knew Brambleclaw had been about to say blood. It seemed impossible that the whole Clan could have vanished without some blood being spilled. Oh, StarClan, what happened here?

Brambleclaw’s eyes glittered with fear. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we’ll find them.”

Stormfur joined them. “Are we too late?” he whispered hoarsely.

“We should have come home quicker,” Squirrelpaw protested.

Stormfur shook his broad grey head as he looked around the abandoned nursery. “We should never have left in the first place,” he growled. “We should have stayed and helped our Clans!”

“We had to go!” Brambleclaw hissed, unsheathing his claws and sinking them into the moss. “It was StarClan’s will.”

“But where have our Clanmates gone?” Squirrelpaw cried. She pushed past the other cats back into the clearing. She heard them follow more slowly, Stormfur cursing under his breath as a bramble scraped against his flank.

The RiverClan warrior padded over to stand beside Squirrelpaw. He looked around the camp for a long moment, ignoring the scratch on his hind leg. “There’s no blood anywhere, no trace of a struggle,” he murmured.

Squirrelpaw followed his gaze and realised Stormfur was right. Even out here, the camp showed no signs that the Clan had been attacked. Surely that meant the Clan had been unharmed when they left? “They must have moved somewhere safer,” she meowed hopefully.

Brambleclaw nodded.

“We should keep looking for scents,” Stormfur suggested. “They might give us a clue to where the Clan has gone.”

“I’ll check Cinderpelt’s den,” Squirrelpaw offered. She charged down the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cat’s clearing, but the hollow amid the sheltering ferns was as empty and silent as the rest of the camp.

She skirted the edge, poking her nose into the bracken. Cinderpelt sometimes flattened out small nests here for sick cats, but there were no fresh scents now. She turned away and padded toward the split rock that formed one end of the clearing. This was where Cinderpelt made her own nest and kept her supplies of herbs safe and dry.

In the shadows, the pungent smell of roots and herbs was as strong as ever, but there was only the faintest trace of Cinderpelt’s scent, as stale as Firestar’s had been in his den.

Disappointed, Squirrelpaw backed out of the cleft and stared desperately around the clearing. A sudden, terrible realisation clutched at her belly: Cinderpelt’s scent was faint, but her sister’s scent was even fainter. Wherever ThunderClan had gone, Leafpaw had left before them.

A screeching warrior’s cry sounded from above, jerking her out of her thoughts. Squirrelpaw glimpsed a flurry of dark fur; then her legs buckled as a cat landed heavily on her back. Fury made her hair stand on end, and her paws scrabbled as she thrashed wildly. The journey to sun-drown-place had made her strong and lean, and she heard the cat gasp with the effort of clinging onto her pelt. Instinctively, Squirrelpaw rolled onto her side. She felt claws rake her flank as her assailant thudded to the ground.

Hissing with anger, Squirrelpaw spun to face her attacker, her hackles raised and her lips drawn back.

The other cat had scrambled up as well and was glaring at her with her tail fluffed up. “Trying to steal my supplies, were you?” she spat.

“Cinderpelt!” Squirrelpaw gasped.

The medicine cat’s eyes stretched wide with surprise. “Squirrelpaw! Y-you’ve come home!” she stammered. She rushed forward, pushing her muzzle along Squirrelpaw’s cheek. “Where have you been? Is Brambleclaw with you?”

“Where is everyone?” Squirrelpaw demanded, too worried about her Clanmates to answer Cinderpelt’s flurry of questions.

The sound of paws pounding along the fern tunnel interrupted her, and Brambleclaw and Stormfur burst into the clearing.

“We heard fighting,” panted Brambleclaw. He blinked in surprise as he spotted Cinderpelt. “Are you both OK?”

“Brambleclaw! I’m so pleased to see you!” Cinderpelt looked at Stormfur and confusion clouded her gaze for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s with us,” Brambleclaw explained shortly. “Who attacked you?” He stared around, his hackles raised. “Did you chase them off?”

“Actually, it was me,” Cinderpelt confessed. “I didn’t recognise Squirrelpaw from the top of the rock. I thought she was trying to steal my herbs. I’d come back to fetch some supplies—”

“Come back?” Brambleclaw echoed. “Where is everyone?”

“We had to leave,” Cinderpelt explained, her eyes glistening with distress. “The monsters were getting nearer and nearer. Firestar ordered us to abandon the camp.”

“When?” Brambleclaw’s eyes were round with astonishment.

“Two moonrises ago.”

“Where did you go?” demanded Squirrelpaw.

“Sunningrocks.” Cinderpelt looked distractedly around the clearing. “I only came back to get some supplies. Now that I don’t have Leafpaw to help me collect fresh herbs, I’m always running low. . . .”

Squirrelpaw’s heart lurched. “What happened to her?”

Cinderpelt glanced at her, and the pity in her eyes made Squirrelpaw want to turn tail and flee from what she was about to hear. “The Twolegs have been setting traps for us,” she said. “Leafpaw was caught in one the day before we abandoned the camp. Sorreltail saw everything but was powerless to help.”

Squirrelpaw’s legs seemed to lose their strength altogether, and she swayed. With a sickening flash of horror, she understood all her dreams of fear and darkness and being trapped in a small space.

“Where did the Twolegs take her?” Brambleclaw’s voice sounded as if he were a long way away. Squirrelpaw shuddered, trying to fight the shock that dragged at her body like rushing water.

“We don’t know.”

“Has Firestar sent out a search patrol?”

“He sent a rescue patrol as soon as Sorreltail returned. But the place where the Twolegs had trapped her was overrun with monsters tearing up the trees, and there was no sign of Leafpaw.” Cinderpelt stepped forwards and pressed her cheek against Squirrelpaw’s. “It wasn’t safe to look for her after that,” she murmured. Squirrelpaw pulled away, but Cinderpelt stared intently into her eyes, and she felt as if the medicine cat were willing her to understand.

“Your father had to think of the whole Clan,” she meowed. “He couldn’t risk putting more cats in danger to search for Leafpaw.” She looked away, and Squirrelpaw heard bitter regret in her voice as she went on. “I wanted to go out looking myself, but I knew I’d be no use.” She glanced furiously at her hind leg, weakened by an old injury on the Thunderpath. Cinderpelt knew only too well the damage that Twoleg monsters could do to cats’ fragile bodies.

For the first time Squirrelpaw noticed how the medicine cat’s pelt seemed to hang from her, showing the sharpness of bone beneath.

Brambleclaw must have noticed too. “How is the Clan managing?” he asked.

“Not well,” Cinderpelt admitted. “Larchkit died—Ferncloud couldn’t make enough milk to feed her. Prey has been so scarce, we’ve all gone hungry.” Grief made her voice tremble. “Dappletail’s dead too. She ate a rabbit that Twolegs had poisoned to get rid of WindClan.” A look of alarm flashed in her eyes. “You haven’t eaten any rabbits, have you?”

“We haven’t seen any rabbits,” Stormfur replied. “Not even in WindClan territory.”

Cinderpelt lashed her tail. “The Twolegs have ruined everything! Brightheart and Cloudtail are missing as well—we think they were captured by Twoleg traps, like Leafpaw was.”

Brambleclaw dropped his gaze to the cold, muddy ground. “I didn’t think it could be this bad!” he murmured. “Midnight warned us, but . . .” Squirrelpaw wished she could comfort him. But there was nothing she could do or say to make him feel better.

Cinderpelt was staring at Brambleclaw in confusion. “Midnight warned you?” she echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Midnight is a badger,” Squirrelpaw explained. “That’s who we went to see.”

“You went to see a badger?” Cinderpelt glanced around as if she expected to see a ferocious black-and-white-striped face appear through the undergrowth behind them.

Squirrelpaw could understand her reaction. Badgers had never been trusted by cats; they were notoriously bad-tempered, unpredictable creatures. Squirrelpaw and her travelling companions had taken a while to get over the shock when they discovered exactly who they had been sent to meet.

“At sun-drown-place,” Squirrelpaw went on.

“I don’t understand,” murmured Cinderpelt.

“StarClan sent us there,” put in Stormfur. “One cat from each Clan.”

“They told us to go to the place where the sun falls into the sea at night,” Brambleclaw added.

“StarClan sent you there?” Cinderpelt gasped. “I . . . we thought they had deserted us.” She stared at Brambleclaw. “StarClan spoke to you?”

“In a dream,” Brambleclaw admitted quietly.

Stormfur was kneading the ground, his fur ruffled. “Feathertail had the same dream.”

“And Crowpaw and Tawnypelt,” Squirrelpaw added.

Cinderpelt stared at the three cats, her eyes wide. “You must come and tell Firestar everything. We have heard nothing from StarClan since they sent the message about fire and tiger.”

“Fire and tiger?” Squirrelpaw echoed, mystified.

“You’ll learn about it soon enough.” Cinderpelt didn’t meet her gaze. “Come back with me now. The Clan needs to hear your story.”

CHAPTER 4

“Sunningrocks was the safest place to hide,” Cinderpelt told them as she weaved through the bracken.

Squirrelpaw was surprised. “But there’s so little shelter there!” Sunningrocks was a wide stone slope near the RiverClan border, bare of trees or bushes except for a few scrubby tufts of grass. Aware that Stormfur was only a few pawsteps behind, Squirrelpaw lowered her voice. “And what about RiverClan? They’ve tried to claim it as their territory before—wasn’t Firestar afraid they might attack the Clan?”

“RiverClan has made no threats lately,” Cinderpelt replied. “Sunningrocks is as far from the Twolegs and their tree-destroying monsters as we could get within our territory, and close to what little prey is left in the forest.”

Despite her limp, she led them quickly through the forest, but Squirrelpaw noticed that the medicine cat’s scrawny flanks heaved with the effort. She glanced at Brambleclaw. He was watching Cinderpelt too, his eyes narrowed with concern.

“We’re in much better shape than she is,” Squirrelpaw whispered to him.

“Our journey has made us stronger,” Brambleclaw commented.

Squirrelpaw felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt that their long and difficult journey had kept them safer and better fed than the cats they left behind. The sun was sinking in a clear blue sky, and a chill wind swayed the branches above them, tugging at the last stubborn leaves. She paused, listening. A few birds chirped a muted chorus, but in the distance she heard monsters all the time, humming like angry bees. Their sticky stench hung in the air and clung to her fur, and Squirrelpaw realised that she had returned to a forest that no longer smelled or sounded like home. It had become another place, one where cats could not survive. No place left for cats. You stay, monsters tear you too, or you starve with no prey. Midnight’s prophecy was already coming true.

The pale grey bulk of Sunningrocks loomed beyond the trees, and Squirrelpaw made out the shapes of cats moving over the stone.

A yowl startled her, and she saw white and ginger fur flashing through the undergrowth. A heartbeat later, Sorreltail and Brackenfur burst out of the bushes in front of them.

“I thought I could smell a familiar scent,” Sorreltail meowed breathlessly.

Squirrelpaw stared at the two warriors. They were as dishevelled as Cinderpelt, and beside her, Brambleclaw’s eyes were wide with shock as his gaze flicked over their gaunt bodies.

“We didn’t think you were coming back,” Brackenfur meowed.

“Of course we were coming back!” Squirrelpaw protested.

“Where have you been?” Sorreltail demanded.

“A long way away,” Stormfur murmured. “Further than any forest cat has ever been.”

Brackenfur glared suspiciously at the RiverClan warrior. “Are you on your way home?”

“I need to talk to Greystripe first.”

Brackenfur narrowed his eyes.

“Let him come,” Cinderpelt advised. “These cats have a lot to tell us.”

Brackenfur’s whiskers twitched, but he dipped his head and turned to lead the way through the trees towards the rocks.

“Come on,” Sorreltail mewed, padding after Brackenfur. “The others will want to see you.”

Squirrelpaw fell into step beside her, trying to ignore the anxiety that gnawed her stomach like hunger pangs. It was starting to look as if their journey had been in vain, and hearing what Midnight had to tell them had come too late to help the Clans. She prayed that the dying warrior’s sign would be enough to save them. Glancing sideways at Sorreltail, she saw that the tortoiseshell warrior’s tail was drooping and her gaze rested wearily on the ground.

“Cinderpelt told me about Leafpaw,” Squirrelpaw murmured.

“I couldn’t do anything to save her,” Sorreltail answered dully. “I don’t know where they’ve taken her. I wanted to look, but we moved camp the next day, and there hasn’t been a chance.” She paused and looked at Squirrelpaw, her eyes flashing with desperate hope. “Did you see her while you were travelling? Do you know where she is?”

Squirrelpaw’s heart twisted. “No, we haven’t seen her.”

The strong, familiar scent of ThunderClan filled the air. Squirrelpaw longed to rush forwards to greet her Clanmates, but instinct warned her to approach them warily. She stood still for a moment, hoping that her thudding heart couldn’t be heard by every cat on Sunningrocks.

The smooth stone slope, lined with gullies and small hollows, rose ahead of her. Trees bordered one side, and at the far edge, where the slope fell steeply away, Squirrelpaw could see the tips of more trees, following the river as far as Fourtrees—or the place where Fourtrees had been. The cold stone, blasted by the leaf-bare winds, was a chilly resting place for the Clan. Squirrelpaw looked at Sorreltail’s paws and saw dried blood staining the white fur around her claws. She remembered how the rocks in the mountains had grazed her own paws while they were staying with the Tribe of Rushing Water.

There was no central clearing here for cats to gather, as there had been in the ravine. Instead, the cats were huddled in small groups; Squirrelpaw spotted the dark pelt of her mentor, Dustpelt, sheltering beneath an overhang, with Mousefur next to him. He seemed much smaller than when she had left, his bony shoulders jutting out from beneath his ungroomed fur. Frostfur and Speckletail, two of the Clan elders, were crouched in the deepest gully. Even in the shadows, Squirrelpaw could see that their pelts were matted and dull, speckled with scraps of moss and dried mud. Further down, where the gully widened, the pale grey shape of Dustpelt’s mate, Ferncloud, was hunched over her two remaining kits.

“It’s more sheltered down there,” Cinderpelt explained, following Squirrelpaw’s gaze. “But the queens still feel very exposed after being used to a nursery made of brambles. The apprentices make their nests in that hollow over there,” she went on, lifting her muzzle to point at a dip in the rocks. Squirrelpaw recognised the brown fur of Shrewpaw, one of Ferncloud’s first litter, fluffed up against the cold.

Squirrelpaw glanced at Brambleclaw, who gave her a tiny nod, but there was anxiety behind his eyes, and his shoulders were tense as he began to pad up the slope. Nervously she followed him. As she passed Ferncloud, the queen looked up at her, and her green eyes darkened with anger.

Squirrelpaw flinched. Did the Clan blame them for what had happened?

Some of the other cats had spotted them too. Thornclaw heaved himself out of a gully near the top of the slope, flattening his ears; with a menacing hiss, Rainwhisker padded from a crevice at the edge of the rocks. The dark grey warrior’s eyes gleamed, but not with any warmth or welcome for the returning cats.

Stormfur was scanning the rocks for Greystripe. Squirrelpaw followed his gaze, but there was no sign of the grey ThunderClan deputy, or of her own father. She fought down the urge to turn tail and flee back to the forest, back to the mountains even. She miserably met Brambleclaw’s gaze. “They don’t want us here,” she whispered.

“They’ll understand once we’ve explained,” he promised. Squirrelpaw hoped he was right.

The sound of rapid pawsteps behind them made her spin around, startled. A pale grey warrior, Ashfur, skidded to a halt in front of her. She searched his eyes, afraid to find rage, but there was only surprise.

“You came back!” He held his tail high and reached out his muzzle to touch hers in greeting.

Squirrelpaw felt a rush of relief. At least one cat seemed glad they had returned.

Shrewpaw scrambled out of his hollow and raced across the rock toward them, with Whitepaw close behind.

“Shrewpaw!” Squirrelpaw cried, trying to sound as if she’d been no farther than Highstones, and for no more than a couple of sunrises. “How’s the training going?”

“We’ve been working hard,” Shrewpaw answered breathlessly as he reached her.

Whitepaw halted beside him. “We would have seen our first Gathering if the Twolegs hadn’t destroyed Four—”

Ashfur shot the white she-cat a warning glance. “They won’t have heard about that yet,” he hissed.

“It’s OK,” Brambleclaw put in. “We know about Fourtrees. Webfoot told us.”

“Webfoot?” Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “Have you been on WindClan territory?”

“We had to travel back that way,” Squirrelpaw explained.

“Back from where?” meowed Shrewpaw, but Squirrelpaw didn’t answer. She had seen Dustpelt and Mousefur emerging from their makeshift den. Sootfur crept out from a hollow beside them. All the warriors were moving closer now, like ghosts slipping through the shadows. Squirrelpaw stifled a shiver as they padded down the rock. She backed away, brushing against Brambleclaw’s pelt and feeling Stormfur edge closer, equally wary. It reminded her of their first meeting with the cats from the Tribe of Rushing Water. Fear stabbed Squirrelpaw’s heart as she realised that it was not just the forest that had changed. Her own Clan was different, too.

“So? Where did you go?” growled a distinctive voice. Frostfur had climbed out of the elders’ gully above them. The old she-cat had lost much of the sleekness from her snow-white pelt, but Squirrelpaw still flinched under her icy stare.

“We’ve been on a long journey,” Brambleclaw began.

“You don’t look like it!” Ferncloud had left her kits and pushed her way to the front. “You look better fed than us.”

Squirrelpaw tried not to feel guilty about the amount of fresh-kill she had caught on the journey. “Ferncloud, I heard about Larchkit, and I’m sorry . . .”

Ferncloud was in no mood to listen. “How do we know you didn’t just desert the Clan because you couldn’t face a hungry leaf-bare with the rest of us?” she hissed.

Squirrelpaw heard Mousefur and Thornclaw mew in agreement, but this time anger overcame her fear. “How could you think such a thing?” she spat, her fur bristling.

“Well, your loyalty clearly lies outside the Clan!” growled Mousefur, staring at Stormfur.

“Our loyalty has always been to the Clan,” Brambleclaw replied evenly. “That’s why we left.”

“Then what’s a RiverClan warrior doing with you?” Dustpelt demanded.

“He has some news for Greystripe,” Brambleclaw meowed. “He’ll leave as soon as he’s spoken to him.”

“He’ll leave now,” Mousefur hissed, taking one pace forwards.

Cinderpelt stepped between Mousefur and Brambleclaw. “Tell them about StarClan’s prophecy,” she urged.

“A prophecy? StarClan has spoken?” Squirrelpaw’s Clanmates stared at her and Brambleclaw like hungry foxes.

“We must tell Firestar first,” Squirrelpaw mewed quietly.