Dawn

by Erin Hunter

  “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.

  “Where’s Firestar?” Brambleclaw called out.

  “He’s away hunting.” It was Sandstorm’s voice.

  Squirrelpaw waited breathlessly, half-joyful and half-anxious, as the ginger she-cat padded towards her daughter and stopped a tail-length away to stare at her.

  “We’re back.” Squirrelpaw searched her mother’s expression for some sign of welcome.

  “You’re back,” Sandstorm echoed wonderingly.

  “We had to leave. StarClan gave us no choice.” Brambleclaw defended Squirrelpaw, and she was grateful for the warmth of his flank as he pressed closer. She wanted to confess to her mother that StarClan had not sent the dreams to her, and that she had insisted on going along with Brambleclaw even though he had been reluctant to take her away from the Clan, but fear made the words stick in her throat.

  Then Sandstorm’s whiskers quivered and she bounded forwards. “One of my kits has returned!” she mewed, rubbing her cheek against Squirrelpaw’s with fierce love.

  She felt a rush of relief. “I’m sorry I left without telling you, but—”

  “You’re back,” Sandstorm meowed. “That’s all I care about.” Her warm breath grazed Squirrelpaw’s muzzle. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

  Squirrelpaw heard a soft purr trembling in her mother’s throat. It reminded her of when she was a kit, curled in the nursery, her sister at her side. Oh, Leafpaw! Where are you?

  A deep meow interrupted them. “It seems that I have my apprentice back,” Dustpelt commented. He was as gaunt and hunted-looking as the other warriors, but his eyes were filled with warmth as he came over to greet her.

  “Wherever you have been, you ate well,” he remarked, his eyes widening as he looked at Squirrelpaw’s sturdy muscles and glossy coat.

  The tip of Brambleclaw’s tail twitched. “We were lucky. There was plenty of fresh-kill where we travelled.”

  “Fresh-kill is what we need more than anything,” mewed Dustpelt. “If you have found good hunting, the Clan should know where.”

  “It’s a long way away,” Brambleclaw warned.

  Dustpelt flicked his ears. “Then it is not for us,” he meowed. “We have made our home here. We will not let the Twolegs and their monsters drive us out again.” A faint, defiant ripple of agreement sounded from the other cats.

  Squirrelpaw stared at them in horror. But they had to leave! Midnight had told them that the Clans would have to find a new home—the dying warrior was going to show them the way—and Squirrelpaw had assumed that the fact that ThunderClan had been driven out of their camp would make the task of persuading them to leave a little easier.

  Then she saw a figure on top of the rock, silhouetted against the rosy evening sky. Even though the shadows made it impossible to tell what colour the cat’s pelt was, there was no mistaking the powerful shoulders and the long tail held aloft in greeting.

  “Firestar!” Squirrelpaw called.

  “Squirrelpaw!” Firestar b
ounded down the rock, then halted. His whiskers twitched for a heartbeat before he thrust his head forwards and licked Squirrelpaw’s ear. She closed her eyes and purred, briefly forgetting the horror that was engulfing the forest. She was home, and that was all that mattered.

  Firestar stepped back. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

  “We’ve got so much to tell you,” she answered quickly.

  “We?” Firestar echoed. “Is Brambleclaw with you?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Brambleclaw pushed his way through the cats and stood beside Squirrelpaw, dipping his head in respect. The rest of the Clan waited, their eyes glinting in the half-light, and even the wind dropped, as if the forest were holding its breath.

  “Welcome home, Brambleclaw.” Squirrelpaw thought she saw a guarded look in her father’s eyes, and she felt a chill run through her.

  A flurry of grey fur caught her eye, no more than a shadow flitting down the darkening slope. It was Greystripe. He skidded to a halt beside Firestar. “So, fire and tiger have returned!” he purred.

  “Fire and tiger?” Squirrelpaw echoed. What did Greystripe mean?

  “There’s time to tell them about that later,” Firestar murmured, his gaze flicking around the watching Clan.

  “Oh, of course,” Greystripe meowed, dipping his head. Then his eyes brightened once more. “Have you seen my two kits?” He glanced hopefully from Squirrelpaw to Brambleclaw.

  Squirrelpaw nodded. “They went with us,” she explained. “Stormfur—”

  “I’m here.” Stormfur pushed his way through the cats.

  Greystripe’s ears twitched in surprise and pleasure. “Stormfur!” He hurried forwards and greeted his son with delighted purrs. “You’re safe!” He glanced back at Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “You’re all safe. I can’t believe it.”

  Squirrelpaw’s heart tightened.

  “Where’s Feathertail?” Greystripe’s gaze flicked past Stormfur as if he expected to see the pale-grey she-cat waiting at the foot of the rocks.

  Squirrelpaw stared at her paws. Poor, poor Stormfur. He brought the worst news of all, to RiverClan as well as ThunderClan.

  “Where is she?” Greystripe asked, sounding puzzled.

  “She’s not with us,” Stormfur replied. He looked directly into his father’s eyes. “She died on the journey.”

  Greystripe stared at him in disbelief.

  Firestar lifted his chin. “Greystripe and Stormfur should be left to grieve in peace,” he called to the Clan.

  Squirrelpaw felt a ripple of gratitude toward her father. At least they could explain everyhing to Greystripe away from the scrutiny of the others. As Firestar guided their Clanmates away up the slope, she pressed closer to Brambleclaw.

  Greystripe was gazing at the rock beneath his paws as though he held an adder there and dared not release it in case it bit him.

  “We couldn’t have saved her,” Stormfur told him. He gently nudged his father’s shoulder with his nose.

  Greystripe swung his head towards Brambleclaw. “You should never have taken her away!” His eyes gleamed with anger.

  Squirrelpaw flicked her tail. “It’s not his fault! It was StarClan who chose Feathertail to go on the journey, not Brambleclaw!”

  Greystripe closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged until he looked half his usual size. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s just so unfair. She was so much like Silverstream . . .”

  As his voice trailed away, Stormfur laid his muzzle against Greystripe’s flank. “Feathertail died a brave and noble death, worthy of the greatest warrior,” he told him. “StarClan chose her to go on the journey, and then the Tribe of Endless Hunting chose her to fulfil a prophecy of their own. You would have been proud of her. She saved us all, not just the Tribe.”

  “The Tribe?” Greystripe echoed.

  Squirrelpaw could hear the other cats milling about further up the slope. Their murmuring grew louder and more impatient until Firestar silenced them, his voice ringing across the rock. “I know you all want to hear where Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw have been,” he meowed. “Let them tell me first; then I promise I will share everything with you.”

  “I want to hear why my apprentice left,” Dustpelt growled.

  “And what about the prophecy they mentioned?” Mousefur demanded. “We have to know what it is!”

  Brambleclaw put his muzzle against Squirrelpaw’s ear. “It sounds like we’d better join them.” He looked at Stormfur. “Are you coming?”

  “Thank you, Brambleclaw,” Stormfur answered, “but I’d like to go home.” He gazed at Greystripe. “They will tell you the whole story, but I wanted you to know you would have been very proud of Feathertail,” he said. “She died to save us.”

  Greystripe blinked and did not reply.

  Stormfur turned to Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “I know it’s going to be difficult,” he murmured, “but we have to keep going with what we know to be right. Remember what Midnight told us. We’re doing this for all our Clans.”

  Brambleclaw solemnly dipped his head. Squirrelpaw leaned forwards to press her muzzle against Stormfur’s cheek. “See you tomorrow at Fourtrees,” she whispered. Her paws trembled with the pain of saying goodbye to one of her closest friends. For more than a moon she hadn’t thought of him as RiverClan and herself as ThunderClan—they were merely Clan together, struggling to finish their journey and save all the cats in the forest.

  As Stormfur padded down the slope, Squirrelpaw saw Mousefur and Thornclaw staring reproachfully at her from up on the slope. She knew how disloyal her affection for the RiverClan warrior must appear, but she was too sad and too tired to bother explaining what their journey meant for the six cats who had travelled to the sun-drown-place—and the five who had made it home.

  “All right,” Firestar meowed. “The senior warriors will join us to hear what Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw have to say. And you, Cinderpelt.” He gestured with his nose to the overhang where Squirrelpaw had seen Dustpelt and Mousefur sheltering. “We’ll meet up there.”

  Snorting, Mousefur turned and began to climb the slope towards the overhang. Greystripe and Dustpelt followed her. As Firestar, Cinderpelt, and Sandstorm padded after them, Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, letting the breeze ripple her fur. She didn’t care how cold she got—in a way, the colder she was, the closer she came to sharing her Clanmates’ suffering. There wouldn’t need to be any strength in the wind for it to slice through their unkempt fur.

  Suddenly she heard Thornclaw let out a low growl. She turned, alarmed, and saw Stormfur standing at the foot of the rocky slope with a plump fish in his mouth.

  “What’s the matter?” snarled Thornclaw. “Don’t your own Clan want you back?”

  The RiverClan warrior dropped the fish by his forepaws. “I have brought a gift from RiverClan.”

  “We don’t need your gifts!” Frostfur spat.

  There was a quiet padding of paws behind Squirrelpaw, and Firestar spoke. “It was kindly meant, Frostfur.” There was a note of warning in his voice. “Thank you, Stormfur.”

  Stormfur didn’t reply; he just looked up at the ThunderClan leader with his eyes full of sadness. His gaze rested briefly on Squirrelpaw; then he dipped his head and disappeared into the reeds that led down to the water, leaving the fish behind.

  Squirrelpaw’s belly growled with hunger. She had not eaten since they left the Twoleg territory on the far side of the moorland.

  “You’ll have to wait till later and see if you can track down a mouse or two,” Firestar meowed, hearing her belly complain. “We must feed Ferncloud and the elders first. You’re going to have to get used to hunger now that you are back with the Clan.”

  Squirrelpaw nodded, trying to readjust. She had grown used to hunting when she felt hungry, sharing only with her friends.

  Firestar called down to Thornclaw, “Divide the fish between Ferncloud and the elders,” before turning back towards the overhang.

  As Squirrelpaw slipped beneath the jutting
rock, she saw that it reached back further than she had expected. Smooth rock shielded the sides of the cave, but a chill wind swirled through the opening, stirring the jumbled scents of many cats. Her heart ached for the order and comfort of the old camp, and she closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them again, she would see the thickly laced branches of the apprentices’ den around her instead of cold, hard stone.

  “All the warriors share this den,” Dustpelt murmured in her ear, as if he had guessed what she was thinking. “There are not as many suitable sleeping places here.”

  Squirrelpaw opened her eyes and looked around the hollow with rage pulsing through her paws. Twolegs had driven her Clan to this! The least she could do was lead them to a place of safety, where there would be proper sleeping places and enough fresh-kill for all the cats.

  “At least there’s a little shelter,” muttered Sandstorm, although her fluffed-up fur suggested she was chilled to the bone.

  Firestar sat near the back of the hollow. Sandstorm and Greystripe settled on either side of him. The ThunderClan deputy was hunched over in his private misery; Cinderpelt sat beside him, concern clouding her eyes.

  “Now,” Firestar began, curling his tail over his paws. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

  Squirrelpaw felt the questioning eyes of her Clanmates burn into her pelt. Brambleclaw swept his tail along her flank before facing Firestar.

  “StarClan visited me in a dream and told me to go to the sun-drown-place,” he explained. “I-I didn’t know if I should believe it at first, but StarClan sent the same dream to a cat from each of the other Clans: Crowpaw of WindClan, Feathertail of RiverClan, and Tawnypelt of ShadowClan.”

  Firestar tipped his head to one side as Brambleclaw went on. “We were all told to make the journey to hear what Midnight told us.”

  “What midnight told you?” Dustpelt echoed, bemused.