by Erin Hunter
“You are all leaders?”
“Yes, we are,” Leopardstar meowed.
Stoneteller’s gaze rested on Tallstar, whose eyes were half-closed with exhaustion. “You are not well,” he meowed. “We give you herbs.” He glanced over his shoulder, catching the eye of a grey tabby she-cat. “Bird, bring strengthening herbs.”
The tabby slipped away down one of the tunnels.
“The Tribe is grateful to your friends for killing Sharptooth. To Feathertail most of all. Her spirit will always be remembered by us.”
“She had her father’s courage,” Firestar agreed, and Leafpaw winced to hear the grief still raw in his voice when he thought of Greystripe.
“You must eat and rest,” Stoneteller went on.
“But after that we must continue our journey,” Blackstar meowed.
Stoneteller dipped his head. “We would not delay you.”
Bird returned with a mouthful of herbs and laid them in front of Tallstar.
Leafpaw felt her whiskers twitch with curiosity. “What herbs are those?”
Stoneteller’s amber eyes gleamed in the half-light.
“I am learning to be a healer,” Leafpaw explained quickly. “I know the herbs of the forest, but in the mountains . . .” She paused. “Everything is so different here.”
“I hope she isn’t bothering you.” Cinderpelt’s soft mew sounded beside them. “She’s very inquisitive.”
“Inquisitive is good in a healer,” Stoneteller rasped. “She will learn much.” He blinked kindly at Leafpaw. “The herbs are ragwort and lamb’s ears. Good for strength.”
“May I see some later, so I can recognise them if I find them again?”
“Of course.” Leafpaw felt warmth in this wise old cat’s voice, and she longed to learn from him, to understand the differences between Tribe and Clan. “Wing said you knew we were coming,” she meowed. “Is that true?”
Stoneteller nodded. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting showed me.”
“Do you share dreams with your ancestors?” Cinderpelt asked.
“Share dreams?” he echoed. “No, I interpret the signs of rock and leaf and water, and know that this is the voice of the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”
“Cinderpelt interprets signs for our Clan,” Leafpaw mewed eagerly. “Signs sent by StarClan. She’s teaching me how to read them too.”
“She has a natural talent for it,” Cinderpelt added.
“Then perhaps she would like to see the Cave of Pointed Stones,” Stoneteller suggested.
“Cave of Pointed Stones?” Leafpaw echoed. “Is that like our Moonstone?”
“I do not know your Moonstone,” murmured Stoneteller as he turned towards one of the dark tunnels that led from the cave. “If it is the place where the voices of your ancestors speak loudest, then yes, it is like your Moonstone.”
Her tail twitching with excitement, Leafpaw padded after Cinderpelt and Stoneteller down the narrow passage. She wondered if they would have to travel as far down into the darkness of the earth as they did to reach the Moonstone; but within a few tail-lengths the passage opened out into another cave, sealed by walls of slippery rock.
Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Leafpaw peered around. It was much smaller than the main cave, but many more stone claws reached down from the roof, and some stretched up from the ground. A few had joined together, like paws meeting, and in the pale light that seeped from a gap in the roof, Leafpaw saw that they glistened with water, which trickled down into pools on the hard stone floor.
Stoneteller touched one of the pools with his paw and sent ripples flashing across it. “The snow will melt, and these pools will grow, and when starlight shines I will see in them what the Tribe of Endless Hunting wishes me to know.”
“How often do you share with the Tribe of Endless Hunting?” Cinderpelt asked.
“When the pools form,” Stoneteller replied.
“We meet at half-moon to share with StarClan. . . .”
Leafpaw found her gaze drifting around the cave. She padded away from where Cinderpelt and Stoneteller were exchanging experiences and weaved among the stone claws until they were hidden from sight. Her paws felt heavy, and tiredness weighed on her pelt like water. She lay down on the damp stone floor and rested her nose upon her paws, mesmerised by the glitter of water dripping from stone. She closed her eyes. StarClan? Are you here?
Her mind swirled with the sound of rushing water. At the very edge of her thoughts, she heard the roaring of a lion and saw the rippling of shadowy pelts—pelts she did not recognise. Who are you? she asked desperately. Voices breathed back to her, speaking words she did not understand. Panic flooded Leafpaw, and she blinked open her eyes.
StarClan was not here. She could hear only the voices of the Tribe’s ancestors. Leafpaw had never felt so alone in her life.
Though Leafpaw begged her father to let another cat take her place, Firestar insisted she sleep beside Cinderpelt in one of the feather-lined nests on the cave floor.
“The Clan needs its medicine cats now more than ever,” he told her. “You must rest well.”
How could she rest? It was all she could do to lick her ruffled, dirty fur. She just hoped Cinderpelt had not noticed the alarm in her eyes after visiting the Pointed Stones. What will we do without StarClan? The thought raced around her mind like a mouse trapped in its hole.
Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw were already asleep, curled up together near the back of the cave. As Leafpaw kneaded the soft feathers beside Cinderpelt, she saw Brook slip out of the cave, followed by Crowpaw and Stormfur. “Where are they going?” she whispered to Cinderpelt.
“They’re going to sit vigil for Feathertail,” Cinderpelt murmured, closing her eyes.
Leafpaw settled down beside her mentor and tucked her tail over her nose. She wondered which ancestors Feathertail hunted with now. She pressed close to Cinderpelt, seeking comfort from her warm grey fur. How could she sleep knowing that StarClan had not come with them on this journey? But she was exhausted, and as soon as she closed her eyes, she felt sleep draw her in.
A shining expanse of water spread before her, its indigo surface glittering with stars. Nothing stirred. Even the wind was still. Leafpaw watched the water, too scared look up in case the stars she saw reflected on the water were just an illusion. What if the sky was empty? It would be yet another sign that StarClan weren’t here.
Suddenly a breath of wind ruffled her fur. Leafpaw stared into the darkness, her fur quivering. A cat was speaking to her, so softly she could barely hear. She lifted her nose. The wind carried a familiar scent, too faint for her to be sure which cat it belonged to.
“Who’s there?” she cried.
The wind blew harder, swelling the sound of the whispering voice until Leafpaw could just make out what it was saying: “Wherever you go, we will search for you.”
Leafpaw turned to see the gentle face of Spottedleaf beside her. The tortoiseshell medicine cat’s eyes glimmered, reflecting the starry waters, but her body shivered like a heat haze, no more solid than the stars in the water.
“You haven’t left us!” Leafpaw breathed.
But Spottedleaf did not answer. The wind dropped and she faded into shadow.
“You’re cheerful today,” Cinderpelt mewed. She looked up at Leafpaw, who was sitting beside her, washing in the early morning light that shone through the waterfall.
Leafpaw stopped washing. “I had a dream,” she confessed.
Cinderpelt sat up. “Did StarClan speak to you?”
Leafpaw blinked. Would Cinderpelt be offended that Star Clan had chosen an apprentice for their message, and not ThunderClan’s medicine cat? “I’m sorry,” she began. “Perhaps they came when I was sleeping and you were awake, and that’s why they chose me—”
Cinderpelt cut her off with the gentlest touch of her tail on Leafpaw’s shoulder. “It’s OK, Leafpaw,” she mewed. “I’ve always known that you have a bond with StarClan that is stronger than anything I’ve seen before. It’s a great
responsibility, and I’m very proud of how you cope with it.”
Leafpaw gazed at her, searching for words to express her relief and gratitude.
“What was the dream?” Cinderpelt prompted.
“It was very faint,” Leafpaw warned her. “But I know for certain that StarClan is still watching us, and I believe they will be with us wherever we are going.”
Firestar padded over, his fiery coat glowing almost white in the watery light.
“Are we leaving?” Cinderpelt asked.
Firestar shook his head. “It snowed all night, and Stoneteller says there’s more on the way. The Tribe is organising a hunt so we’ll have enough fresh-kill to last out the bad weather.”
“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” Leafpaw mewed in alarm.
“For now.” Firestar watched Blackstar pacing back and forth in front of the cave entrance. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”
“Leafpaw!” Sorreltail bounded over. “Do you want to come hunting with some of the Tribe?” She glanced at Firestar. “If that’s OK?”
Firestar turned to Cinderpelt. “Can you spare her?”
“Yes, of course,” Cinderpelt answered.
“Thanks,” Leafpaw mewed. After living in the forest it felt strange to be cooped up in the gloomy cave, and despite the cold she welcomed the feeling of fresh air in her fur.
She followed Sorreltail over to Talon and Crag. Brook was with them, with Stormfur at her side. Leafpaw was startled to see how different Stormfur looked. His fur was streaked with mud, just like the Tribe cats’, and there was a toughness in his muscles that made him look more like a member of the Tribe than the skinny Clan cats.
“I hope they’re not going to slow us down,” Crag muttered to Brook and Talon. “We’ve got too many mouths to feed.”
“Of course they won’t slow us down,” Brook mewed. “Stormfur was becoming a good prey-hunter by the time he left.”
“I suppose he wasn’t bad,” Crag conceded. He glanced at Leafpaw. “You’re an apprentice, right? What are you hoping to be? A prey-hunter or a cave-guard?”
Leafpaw stared at him, not understanding.
“The Tribe divides its duties,” Stormfur explained. “The cave-guards protect the Tribe; the prey-hunters feed them. Brook is a prey-hunter and Crag is a cave-guard.”
“Then why are you coming hunting?” Leafpaw asked Crag hesitantly.
Crag let out an unexpected purr of amusement. “Who’s going to watch the skies while you’ve got your eye on the prey?” he asked, and Leafpaw remembered with a shudder the eagle that had attacked the Clan. She felt a prickle of resentment at Crag’s superior attitude, but resisted the urge to tell him she was an apprentice medicine cat; to a Tribe cat, that might sound as if she were claiming to be a leader.
“In the forest we could scent for danger and hunt at the same time,” Sorreltail mewed.
“Really? Well, how do you scent an eagle flying a mountain’s height above your head?” Crag retorted.
“Come on,” Brook meowed impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”
She led the way out from behind the waterfall and along a ledge that led them up among the peaks. The blizzard had died away, but the thick snow soon froze Leafpaw’s feet. The air was so cold, it almost hurt to breathe, and her eyes started to stream as soon as they left the warmth of the cave. But there was no way she was going to complain; she wanted to prove to Crag that forest cats could handle anything the mountain cats could. She stifled a shiver and glanced up. Heavy yellow clouds nested on the mountaintops, promising more snow.
As they neared a stunted thornbush, its branches weighed down with fresh snow, Brook stopped and crouched low. Crag and Stormfur flanked her, ducking down as well. Leafpaw copied them, pressing her belly flat against the snow beside Sorreltail. Brook stared at the bush, her nose twitching as though she scented prey.
Leafpaw sniffed. The smell of rabbit wafted past her on the breeze. Instinctively she started to creep forwards.
“Stop!” Stormfur warned her with a hiss. “Wait and watch how Brook does it.”
Brook was as still as ice, only the faintest lift of her mudstreaked flank showing that she wasn’t a rock embedded in the snow. Just when Leafpaw began to think she would turn into an icicle if she stayed still any longer, a young rabbit hopped from under the bush, testing the air with its quivering nose.
It hopped closer, not seeing the cats flat against the snow. Leafpaw opened her mouth. The prey-scent was still strong near the bush, which was odd if the rabbit had come out into the open. Perhaps the rabbit had been sheltering there for a long time. Suddenly Brook shot forwards and lunged at the rabbit. She caught it in her jaws and killed it with merciful speed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Leafpaw noticed the bush tremble. She darted forwards just as a second rabbit fled across the snow. It raced towards a rocky outcrop, but Leafpaw was fast—and hungry—and caught it before it could escape.
“Well spotted!” Brook congratulated her with a warm purr.
“I could smell two scents,” Leafpaw panted.
Crag stared at her in surprise. “You smelled both rabbits at the same time?”
“We’re used to the forest with all its plants and prey,” she mewed, trying to explain. “The air up here is clearer; the scents are not so cluttered. It’s easy to spot different smells.”
Sorreltail blinked proudly at her, and Stormfur gave a small nod. Crag dipped his head in respect and, picking up one of the rabbits, led the way back to the waterfall.
Leafpaw sat near the entrance of the cave, warmed by the soft breathing of the cats around her. Dustpelt lay beside Onewhisker and Tallstar. Spiderpaw stretched out beside Crowpaw. Tallpoppy and Ferncloud shared tongues while their kits played together. Even Hawkfrost looked relaxed as he watched Mothwing grooming Morningflower’s pelt for fleas. In spite of the peaceful scene, Leafpaw felt a tremor of concern. She had never seen the Clans so comfortable around each other before, not even at Gatherings. StarClan may be waiting for them, but would there still be four Clans by the time they reached their new home?
She stared through the sheet of thundering water and saw the full moon trembling above the peaks. None of the Clan cats had mentioned that it was a full moon, and time for a Gathering. There was no need. Suddenly she heard rasping breath by her ear, and she turned to see Stoneteller looking down at her.
“You are watching the moon for signs?” he meowed.
“I was thinking of the Gatherings,” Leafpaw mewed.
“Gatherings?” Stoneteller looked puzzled.
“In the time before we left, the four Clans would meet in peace only at full moon.”
“Clans did not live in harmony?”
“Not always,” Leafpaw admitted. “Unlike you, we had clear boundaries between our hunting territories.”
Stoneteller glanced around. “Trouble has brought you together,” he observed.
“But there will always be boundaries between us,” Leafpaw insisted.
“Why? Together you find food easier.”
“There have always been four Clans. Loyalty to our own Clan makes us strong.”
“But you all share a belief in your StarClan?”
“We will all become warriors in StarClan eventually,” Leafpaw murmured. She gazed at the moon, a blurred white disk behind the falling water.
Stoneteller’s eyes glowed. “You are still a to-be, yet you are wise.”
Feeling her ears grow hot with embarrassment, Leafpaw looked away.
“We will have a gathering of our own tonight,” Stoneteller went on. He raised his voice. “Cats of the Clans and of the Tribe, we have not celebrated our deliverance from Sharptooth,” he meowed. “Instead we grieved for Feathertail, who died saving us. But tonight we shall honour the cats who came from far away and killed the terrible creature.”
Mews of agreement rose among the Tribe cats. The kits mewed with excitement, and the boldest of them padded over to where Tallpoppy’s kits played wit
h Birchkit.
“Come and share with us,” the Tribe kit offered.
Birchkit glanced at his mother, who nodded, her eyes shining with warmth. Tallpoppy and Dawnflower quickly gave their approval, and the Clan kits wasted no time in following the Tribe kit across the cave.
One by one, the Tribe cats got to their paws and took a piece of fresh-kill from the pile. They placed each piece solemnly at the paws of a Clan cat until every cat had been served. The Clan cats watched and waited, unsure what to do.
Leafpaw’s eyes widened in surprise as Crag dropped a rabbit at her paws.
“May I share with you?” he asked.
She nodded shyly.
Stoneteller padded to the centre of the cave. “We feast in honour of Feathertail,” he declared. “Her spirit will live forever in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. We honour too the cats who refused to desert us and returned to fulfil the prophecy of our ancestors.” He dipped his head in turn to Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, Tawnypelt, Crowpaw, and Stormfur, who each straightened proudly.
“Now let us eat!” Stoneteller called, his mew echoing around the cave.
Crag took a bite from the rabbit he had laid on the ground and then pushed it over to Leafpaw. Guessing this was a custom of the Tribe, she took a bite and passed it back to him. Back in the forest, the cats had shared food too, but there was usually enough fresh-kill for each cat to have a whole piece each. She wondered if the Tribe’s formal sharing ritual arose from the scarcity of prey in the mountains.
After the meal, the cats lay, full-bellied, and quietly shared tongues. Tallstar limped to the centre of the cave and gazed around at the cats until they fell silent. Onewhisker crept to his side, supporting the WindClan leader’s frail body with his own.
“Who’s that skinny old raven?” mewed a Tribe kit.
“Hush!” His mother cuffed him sharply. “That’s a very noble Clan leader!”
But though he had to lean on the young warrior, Tallstar’s eyes shone with as much strength and determination as a leader on his first life, rather than his last. “Crowpaw?”
The WindClan apprentice looked up, bewildered.
“Crowpaw has served his Clan with bravery and loyalty.” Tallstar’s voice cracked as he stifled a cough. “He should have received his warrior name long ago,” he rasped. “But the tragedies of the past moons have prevented this. Tonight, if Stoneteller will do me the kindness of letting a Clan ceremony into his Tribe’s home, I wish to honour Crowpaw’s great skill and courage by giving him his warrior name.”
