by Erin Hunter
Before he had finished speaking, wails of dismay began to rise from the cats who sat around him. Ashfur crouched down with his neck fur bristling as if he were about to leap onto an enemy, while Whitepaw pressed her belly to the ground in terror. Beside her, Cloudtail lashed his tail and bared his teeth in a snarl.
Mousefur’s voice rose above the rest. “Are these traps all over the territory?”
Brambleclaw waved his tail for silence so that he could reply. Leafpool thought how commanding he looked, standing on the rock. It wasn’t difficult to imagine him becoming Clan deputy. Is Firestar right to keep on hoping that Greystripe will return? Would it be better for the Clan to accept that he has gone, and appoint a new deputy?
“We only found one trap,” Brambleclaw was meowing. “But it makes sense there would be more.”
“Why?” Rainwhisker demanded. “Why would Twolegs want to trap foxes, anyway?”
The cats glanced at one another, murmuring in bewilderment. Then a new, trembling voice spoke up. “I can tell you why.”
Leafpool glanced over her shoulder and saw that Daisy had risen to her paws. It was the first time the horseplace cat had spoken in a Clan meeting, and she looked almost as terrified as when the badgers had broken into the camp.
“Go on, Daisy,” Firestar mewed encouragingly.
“The Nofurs—I mean, the Twolegs—keep birds on their farms for fresh-kill. Not little birds like the ones we eat, but bigger. But foxes come and steal them, so the Twolegs want to kill the foxes to protect their birds.” She sat down again, blinking in embarrassment, and wrapped her tail around her paws.
“Thanks, Daisy,” Firestar told her. “At least now we understand what’s going on.”
“But what are we going to do about it?” Cloudtail demanded.
“What can we do?” Goldenflower challenged him. “No cat can stop Twolegs from doing what they want. We saw that in the old forest, and this place is worse!”
“That’s not true.” Ferncloud spoke gently to the elder. “Even if it was, we can’t go back. There’ll be nothing left of the old forest by now. Here we have to learn new things. StarClan wouldn’t have brought us somewhere that’s too dangerous for us to live.”
“Then maybe StarClan can tell us what to do about the traps!” Goldenflower flashed back at her.
“We can do that,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Squirrelflight worked it out. Squirrelflight, come up here and tell them.”
Leafpool watched her sister leap up onto the rock beside Brambleclaw. The sunlight gleamed on her dark ginger fur, turning it to flame, and for an instant she looked just like their father. “It’s easy,” she meowed. “You get a stick—as long as you can manage—and poke it into the loop. The loop snaps tight around the stick, and there you are—no more problem.”
Pride flooded over Leafpool. Their mother Sandstorm’s green eyes shone with admiration too.
“The real danger,” Firestar warned, “is that cats will come across these things when they aren’t expecting it. All patrols will have to keep a lookout, and report back if they find anything.”
“And if we spring a trap with a stick,” Brambleclaw added, “we should check it regularly in case the Twolegs set it again.”
“Good thinking,” Firestar meowed. “We’ll do that. Every cat who goes outside the clearing should watch their paws and check for scent. Fox scent and Twoleg scent together means danger.”
“How are we supposed to hunt, then?” Rainwhisker muttered. “We can’t watch and scent and chase prey all at the same time.”
Leafpool knew he was partly right. She shivered at the thought of a cat racing along, intent on bringing down fresh-kill for the Clan, only to run into one of the shining loops. StarClan help us! she thought. Sooner or later, some cat is going to be killed.
Her worries had distracted her briefly from the meeting and when she started listening again, Firestar was talking about hunting patrols.
“Stormfur and Brook, ThunderClan thanks you,” he meowed. “Feeding the Clan after the attack would have been a lot tougher without you.”
Stormfur dipped his head in acknowledgment, while Brook studied her paws, looking embarrassed to be praised in front of the whole Clan.
“I want all cats who are fit to go out on hunting patrol,” Firestar went on. “By sunset I’d like all the Clan to be well fed and the fresh-kill pile stocked up.”
“Cloudtail and I went out yesterday,” Sandstorm meowed, rising to her paws. “I’ll go again, but I think Cloudtail should rest that injured paw. I spotted you limping,” she added to Cloudtail as he sprang up with a yowl of protest, “and your pad is bleeding again.”
Cloudtail sat down again, the tip of his tail twitching. “I’ll come with you,” Brambleclaw offered.
Instantly Ashfur was on his paws. “So will I.” He spoke to Sandstorm, but he was glaring at Brambleclaw.
Stupid tomcats! Leafpool thought. She got up, signalling with her tail to Firestar that she wanted to speak.
“Yes, Leafpool?” her father mewed.
“Brambleclaw’s shoulder is badly hurt, and he’s already been out on patrol today,” Leafpool explained. “And Ashfur’s injuries are some of the worst in the Clan. I want to check them both before they set paw outside the camp.”
“Quite right,” meowed Firestar. “In that case, I don’t think either Brambleclaw or Ashfur should go. And Leafpool, please check all the other cats. No cat should leave camp until Leafpool approves it. Sandstorm, will you see to the patrols?”
Sandstorm agreed, and the meeting broke up.
“Hey, Leafpool,” Thornclaw meowed, “take a look at my injuries first, will you? I want to go hunting.”
“And mine,” Spiderleg added, thrusting forward to stand beside his Clanmate. “Look, the scratches are healing. I’m fine, honestly.”
“You’re fine if I say you are,” Leafpool retorted. She began rapidly checking wounds, sending the worst-injured cats to her den for more treatment, while Sandstorm organised the others into patrols.
In the end, two patrols left camp: Thornclaw with Dustpelt and Ferncloud, and Sandstorm leading Squirrelflight and Spiderleg.
“Wait!” Firestar called, climbing down the tumbled rocks to join Sandstorm in the clearing. “I’ll come with you.”
Sandstorm looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I suppose it’s no good telling you to go back to your den and rest?”
“No good at all,” Firestar agreed, giving her shoulder an affectionate flick with his tail. “Every cat is injured, and my scratches aren’t as bad as most.”
“That should be for Leafpool to say,” Sandstorm mewed, turning to their daughter.
Leafpool sniffed the scratches on Firestar’s flanks and shoulders. She knew she had to forget he was her father and Clan leader, and treat him like any other injured cat. He wouldn’t thank her for trying to keep him safe by insisting that he stayed in the hollow. Fortunately, though his body was laced with scratches, none of them was very deep. She had treated them with marigold right after the battle, and they were beginning to heal.
“You should be OK,” she meowed at last. “I’ll fetch you some more marigold before you go, and if the scratches start bleeding again, come straight back.”
Firestar gave a grunt of acknowledgment. StarClan only knew whether he would actually do as he was told.
Leafpool went back to her den to fetch the marigold. As she emerged with the leaves in her jaws, she saw Firestar had followed her, meeting her a couple of fox-lengths from her den.
“You’ve noticed how Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw have been since the battle?” he asked as she chewed up the leaves and began patting them on his wounds. “They seem to be getting over their fight.”
Leafpool went on working for a moment; she didn’t particularly want to discuss her sister, but Firestar was obviously waiting for a response. “Yes,” she mewed after a busy pause. “I think the badger attack made them realise what’s important.”
“Ashfur m
ust be disappointed.”
“I suppose he is.” Leafpool wondered whether to tell her father about her dream of Tigerstar with his sons in the dark forest. Wasn’t that what a medicine cat was for? To warn her Clan leader of possible trouble?
“I used to find it hard to have a cat in the Clan who looks exactly like Tigerstar,” Firestar went on. Leafpool knew he meant Brambleclaw. “But when Tawnypelt left to join ShadowClan, I realised that she and Brambleclaw belonged by birth to ThunderClan. Whoever their father was, that doesn’t change. Besides, StarClan wouldn’t have sent Brambleclaw on the quest to the sun-drown-place if they didn’t trust him.”
Leafpool murmured agreement, moving around Firestar to trickle the healing juices onto the scratches on his other side.
“I need to trust Squirrelflight’s judgment. She’s not a kit any more,” Firestar continued. “She values Brambleclaw for the warrior he is now. Judging him for being Tigerstar’s son would be like judging me for being a kittypet.”
“You haven’t been a kittypet for many seasons!” Leafpool protested. She still found it hard to imagine her father, of all cats, eating the hard kittypet food and letting Twolegs handle him.
“And Brambleclaw hasn’t seen his father for many seasons,” Firestar countered.
That’s where you’re wrong! Leafpool wanted to say, but before she could speak, her father went on more gently, “I’m glad you came back, Leafpool. I think you made the right decision, and I hope you think so too. Cinderpelt had great faith in you.”
“I know,” Leafpool meowed humbly. “I owe it to her to be the best medicine cat I can be.”
When she had finished dabbing on the marigold, Firestar thanked her and padded away to join Sandstorm, who was waiting near the thorn barrier with the rest of the hunting patrol.
Frustrated, Leafpool watched him go. She couldn’t tell him about the dream or voice her fears about Brambleclaw now. It might sound as if she were jealous of her sister’s happy relationship, because she had been forced to give up Crowfeather.
Sighing, she turned back to her den and the cats who were waiting for her.
It was almost sunhigh by the time Leafpool had finished treating the injured cats. Most of them had gone back to their dens to rest. Apart from Birchpaw, only Cloudtail remained, holding out his paw while Leafpool put a poultice of horsetail on the wound.
“You have to stay off it as much as you can,” she scolded him. “No wonder the bleeding won’t stop. Going hunting yesterday was mousebrained.”
Cloudtail mutinously twitched his tail. “The Clan needs to be fed.”
“The Clan is being fed. Now, do you want to stay here where I can keep an eye on you, or will you rest in the warriors’ den?”
“I’ll rest in the warriors’ den,” Cloudtail promised with a sigh. “And thanks, Leafpool. You’re doing a fantastic job.”
“It would be easier if some cats had the sense of a newborn kit,” Leafpool retorted. “And if I see you—”
She broke off as Squirrelflight brushed past the screen of brambles in front of the den, a vole in her jaws.
“Here—fresh-kill,” she meowed, after dropping it at Leafpool’s paws.
She turned to leave again, but not before Leafpool had seen the misery in her eyes. She hardly needed to see it; she could feel her sister’s churning emotions like the crackles in the air before a thunderstorm.
“Wait, Squirrelflight. What’s the matter?” she asked.
For a moment she thought Squirrelflight would stalk off without replying. Then her sister turned back, cast a rapid glance at Cloudtail, and mewed in a low voice, “It’s Ashfur. I passed him just now, and when I said hi he stared through me as if I wasn’t there. Rainwhisker was with him,” she went on as Leafpool laid her tail comfortingly on her shoulder. “The whole Clan must be talking about me!”
“You can hardly blame Ashfur,” Leafpool told her. “He really cares for you.”
“I never meant to hurt him!” Squirrelflight’s voice, though quiet, was anguished, and her green eyes were filled with guilt. “He’s a great cat, and I thought it would work out, being with him. But Brambleclaw . . . Oh, Leafpool, do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
Leafpool moved closer to her so that their pelts brushed. “Last night I went down to the lake,” she meowed carefully. “StarClan sent me a dream: two sets of starry paw prints on the water, wound so closely I couldn’t tell which was which. And then I saw you and Brambleclaw, walking together at the end of the trail, the paw prints spilling out behind you. You were side by side, keeping pace with each other, step for step, until you vanished into the sky.”
Squirrelflight’s eyes stretched wide. “Really? StarClan showed you that? Then it must mean that Brambleclaw and I are meant to be together!”
“That’s right, I think so.” Leafpool tried not to sound fearful.
“Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much, Leafpool.” Squirrelflight’s tail went straight up and she flexed her claws as if she couldn’t keep still. “I’m going to tell Brambleclaw. Then he’ll know that we don’t have to worry about Ashfur. Nothing can stop us being together, nothing!”
She dashed off, passing Brightheart and Whitepaw as she raced past the bramble screen.
“Thanks for the fresh-kill!” Leafpool called after her.
“I just saw Daisy,” Brightheart meowed, setting down her bunch of marigold. “She says she’s got bellyache.”
“She’ll need watermint for that,” Leafpool replied, slipping inside the cleft to fetch it.
When she returned, Cloudtail had risen to his paws, carefully holding the injured one clear of the ground. “I’ll take the watermint to Daisy if you like,” he offered.
Leafpool was about to remind him that she had told him to rest, but before she could open her mouth Brightheart snapped, “I don’t see you being so keen to help the cats who actually did some fighting.” She turned her back on Cloudtail. “Come on, Whitepaw. Let’s go and look for juniper.”
The apprentice followed her out, casting a bewildered glance back at her father as they went.
Cloudtail stared after them, his jaws sagging open with amazement. “What did I say?”
Leafpool rolled her eyes. If he didn’t know, there was no point in trying to tell him. Besides, she didn’t want to get involved in his tangled relationships. She couldn’t figure out whether he really wanted to be with Daisy, or whether he still loved Brightheart and was just being a mousebrained tom.
She dropped the watermint in front of Cloudtail. “OK, you can take this to Daisy,” she meowed. “And after that, make sure you get some rest.”
She followed the white warrior as far as the bramble screen, and watched him limping across to the nursery. In the centre of the clearing, Squirrelflight stood beside Brambleclaw. She was meowing to him urgently, her tail waving in excitement. After a few heartbeats Brambleclaw touched noses with her and twined his tail with hers.
Leafpool suppressed a sigh. The sign of the mingled paw prints couldn’t have been clearer. Yet her pelt still prickled with fear when she saw him with her sister.
“Oh, StarClan!” she murmured. “Was I right to tell her?”
Chapter 6
The sky above Brambleclaw’s head was dark, but the sickly glow of fungus guided his paws along the path. Shadowy ferns brushed his fur with damp, sticky fronds. Every hair on his pelt prick-led as he bounded towards the meeting place. The pain from his wounded shoulder had vanished, and he felt stronger and more powerful with every heartbeat.
Soon the path grew wider and opened up into a clearing. Though no moon shone, a pale wash of light revealed Brambleclaw’s half-brother Hawkfrost crouched beside a rock, where a massive tabby tom was sitting.
As Brambleclaw emerged from the trees Hawkfrost sprang to his paws and raced towards him. “Brambleclaw!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been?”
It was his first really restful night since the badger attack. When he closed his eyes, he had found himself back in
the dark forest, as hungry as ever to find out what Tigerstar had to teach him. Brambleclaw tried to ignore the guilt that pricked at him like a stubborn thorn; there was no way he could tell Squirrelflight about walking these paths of dream and meeting Tigerstar. She would never understand that he could be loyal to his Clan and still see his father.
“Badgers attacked our camp,” he explained to Hawkfrost as they padded across the clearing side by side.
“Badgers!” Hawkfrost’s neck fur bristled. He knew how dangerous they were. “How many?”
“Enough,” Brambleclaw replied grimly.
“And you’re wounded.” Hawkfrost’s ice-blue gaze softened into concern as he noticed the long scar on Brambleclaw’s shoulder.
“It’s nothing.” Reaching the rock, Brambleclaw dipped his head to his father. “Greetings, Tigerstar.”
“Greetings.” Tigerstar’s amber gaze pinned Brambleclaw like an eagle’s talon. “You have not been here for nearly a quarter moon. If you want power you must commit yourself totally—every hair, every claw, every drop of blood. Anything less is weakness.”
“I am committed!” Brambleclaw protested. He began to describe the badger attack, though he kept in mind that Hawkfrost was listening; he was not about to reveal to a warrior from a rival Clan exactly how devastating the attack had been, nor how shattered ThunderClan was still. “I’ve hardly slept since,” he finished. “There’s been too much to do, repairing the damage.”
“You fought with courage,” Tigerstar praised him. “I’m proud you were prepared to risk your life to save your Clan.”
Brambleclaw twitched his ears uneasily. He hadn’t told his father what he had done during the attack, yet Tigerstar seemed to know already. He must have been watching me all the time. That taunt about weakness must have been a test.
“You need to make sure Firestar remembers how bravely you fought and how hard you have worked for your Clan since the attack,” Tigerstar went on. “That will serve you well when he comes to choose a deputy.”
