by Erin Hunter
Murmurs of agreement rose from the WindClan cats, but they turned to mews of surprise as Crowpaw stepped forwards. This wasn’t part of the warrior naming ceremony.
“May I ask something, Tallstar?” he mewed.
Tallstar narrowed his eyes and nodded for him to go on.
“I would like to choose my own warrior name. If it is all right, I wish to be known as Crowfeather.” Crowpaw spoke so quietly, his voice was almost lost in the pounding water. “I wish to keep alive the memory of . . . of the cat who did not return from the first journey.”
Stormfur’s ears flicked, and he stared down at his paws.
There was a long pause; then Tallstar announced, “A noble request. Very well. I name you Crowfeather. May StarClan protect you and accept you as a WindClan warrior in life as well as after.”
The WindClan cats jumped up and went over to congratulate their Clanmate.
“That was a brilliant idea!” Squirrelpaw bounded over to Crowfeather’s side. Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur joined her.
“It’s a great name,” Tawnypelt agreed as Brambleclaw wound his lean body around Crowfeather, purring. Stormfur touched his muzzle to Crowfeather’s flank as if he were too moved to speak.
“Thank you,” Crowfeather murmured. He gazed past them at the waterfall, turned silver by the light of the moon. “I will sit my vigil tonight beside Feathertail’s grave.”
Leafpaw watched as he slipped away from his friends and Clanmates and padded out of the cave.
“So he’s a warrior now, yes?” Crag asked her, his eyes shining with curiosity.
“Yes.” Leafpaw got to her paws. “Thank you for sharing with me,” she murmured. The lonely moon called her from the crowded den, and she longed to search the clear sky for Silverpelt.
Padding out from behind the waterfall, she scrambled up the rocks and sat high above the pool where the tumbling water foamed and surged. The stars glittered overhead as Leafpaw gazed down to where Crowfeather sat vigil. He was sitting with his head bowed beside the low mound of rocks that marked Feathertail’s grave. Was she really with the Tribe of Endless Hunting rather than StarClan? Make her welcome, whoever you are, Leafpaw begged silently.
She watched Crowfeather for a moment, her heart aching for his loss. Then she lifted her head and stared around the peaks, wondering if StarClan watched him too. There was a tranquillity in this high place she had not felt since she lay beneath the trees in the forest. In the bright moonlight, something caught her eye on a small ledge opposite the cave entrance, and Leafpaw thought she saw two silver pelts glowing beneath the stars. She was almost certain that two cats stood there, looking down at Crowfeather; one was slightly taller than the other, but their pelts were marked by the same mottled shadows, as though they were kin.
Feathertail and Silverstream?
Leafpaw blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the silver cats had vanished.
CHAPTER 24
Squirrelpaw hurried after Stormfur along a rocky trail that only days ago had been buried beneath a tail-length of snow. He seemed determined to cross most of the mountains in search of prey. The rocks echoed with the drip, drip, drip of melting ice. Even the deepest snowdrifts were thawing. Dark grey rainclouds rolled towards the mountains, carried on a milder wind that was releasing the peaks from the grip of the snow and ice.
Not for the first time, Squirrelpaw wondered why the RiverClan warrior had asked her to go hunting when back in the cave the Clans were getting ready to leave. They wouldn’t be able to carry any fresh-kill with them; perhaps Stormfur wanted to catch some prey to say thank you to the Tribe for their hospitality.
“Why isn’t Brook coming hunting with us?” she panted. The prey-hunter had seemed like Stormfur’s shadow in the past few days.
Stormfur concentrated on jumping onto a boulder, and didn’t reply.
“Have you had an argument with her?” The RiverClan warrior was clearly troubled by something. His shoulders were hunched, and he had hardly spoken since they left the cave. She scrabbled awkwardly onto the boulder next to him, her mind racing. Had Stormfur asked Brook to join the Clans, and travel with them to their new home? The thought made Squirrelpaw’s tail quiver. It wouldn’t be the first time an outsider had joined the Clans. Her own father had been raised as a kittypet. But at least Firestar had been born near the forest. Brook was a mountain cat, and Squirrelpaw knew that wherever the Clans settled, it would be nothing like this barren place.
She spotted a mouse on the ridge ahead, tiptoeing out from a crevice to find food. She hissed a warning to Stormfur, who stopped and crouched down, waiting until the mouse had wandered further on to the trail. Though she longed to make the catch, Squirrelpaw knew Stormfur’s coat would be more easily camouflaged here, and she pressed her orange belly as close to the ground as she could, hoping that stillness would keep her hidden.
Stormfur held still for another moment, then pounced. He snapped the mouse’s spine and turned back to face Squirrelpaw, the fresh-kill hanging in his jaws.
“Is that a parting gift for Brook?” Squirrelpaw prompted gently.
Stormfur blinked.
“Look, what’s wrong?” Squirrelpaw asked, unable to bear seeing her friend so troubled.
Stormfur dropped the mouse, suddenly looking exhausted. When he lifted his head, his eyes were shadowed with uncertainty. “I’ve decided to stay with the Tribe.”
“What?”
“I’ve lost Feathertail and Greystripe, and I never knew Silverstream. I have no kin left in the Clans. Even my mentor, Stonefur, is dead. Apart from Feathertail, he was the closest thing to kin that I had in RiverClan. I don’t even have a home anymore. It feels as though everything has been stolen from me, one thing after another.”
“But what about your Clan?” Squirrelpaw protested. “RiverClan needs you.”
“RiverClan has good, strong warriors.” He looked into Squirrelpaw’s eyes and must have seen the wary look there. “Even Hawkfrost,” he meowed as if he could read her mind. “RiverClan will be safe without me.”
“But this is such a different place,” Squirrelpaw argued. “Once we’ve found our new home, you can start again . . .”
“Oh, Squirrelpaw, can’t you understand? I love Brook, and I want to stay with her.”
“I thought you might ask her to join the Clans!” Squirrelpaw blurted out.
Stormfur shook his head. “She would be lost without the mountains. But I know that I can live here. There’s water here—noisier than the river—but it’s still water. There’s plenty of fresh-kill, now that I know how to hunt like the Tribe. And my sister’s spirit is here . . .” He let out a long sigh. “All the Clans have lost their homes, but I feel like I have lost more than any cat. This is the first time in many moons that I feel as if I have actually found something.”
“There’s no need to say any more,” Squirrelpaw whispered sadly. “I understand.”
As they walked back to the cave, her mind whirled. Once again, everything had changed, just when she thought there was nothing left to lose. They slipped behind the waterfall, and Stormfur carried the mouse to the fresh-kill pile, while Squirrelpaw stood at the cave entrance feeling dazed.
“Squirrelpaw!” Leafpaw rushed up to her. “Stoneteller has given us strengthening herbs to share with the Clans.”
Squirrelpaw stared at her. “Th-that’s great,” she mewed.
“Are you OK?”
“Leafpaw!” Cinderpelt was calling to her across the cave.
“I have to go,” Leafpaw breathed, turning away. “WindClan are waiting for the herbs.”
Squirrelpaw watched her go, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom. Another shape loomed towards her from the shadows, and her heart sank as she recognised the massive tabby shoulders. What did Hawkfrost want with her?
“Squirrelpaw?”
She blinked. It was Brambleclaw. He was looking at her quizzically. “Are you coming in?” he meowed. “We have to make sure everyone’s eaten.”
/> Squirrelpaw felt dizzy.
“Is something wrong?” Brambleclaw stared at her.
Squirrelpaw shook her head helplessly. Across the cave, she could see Stormfur murmuring something to Brook.
Brambleclaw followed her gaze. “Stormfur’s staying, isn’t he?”
“He wants to stay with Brook,” Squirrelpaw whispered.
There was a long pause. “You’ll miss him, won’t you?”
“Of course I will!” Squirrelpaw replied, surprised. She turned to look up at Brambleclaw and saw a flicker of something in his amber eyes. Was he feeling jealous? “Oh, Brambleclaw,” she breathed. “My heart is with ThunderClan; don’t you know that?” She lightly brushed her tail along his flank. “My heart is with you.”
His eyes closed, and Squirrelpaw suddenly hoped she hadn’t said the wrong thing. Then he blinked them open again and looked at her so gently that she felt as if she could have stood there forever.
“We must all follow our hearts,” he murmured. Squirrelpaw’s fears about what lay ahead seemed to dissolve in an instant, like mist in greenleaf. She would lose a friend when Stormfur stayed behind, but she would never be alone.
A movement caught her eye. Stoneteller was padding to the centre of the cave.
“The Clans are leaving,” he announced to his Tribe. “I want some of you to go with them to show them the path out of the mountains. They head for hillplace, not sunset, so take them along the path that leads towards the Great Star.”
Squirrelpaw felt a rush of excitement. Were the Tribe cats going to take them straight to where the dying warrior had disappeared behind the mountain range?
Stoneteller dipped his head to each of the Clan leaders in turn. “I wish the cats of StarClan good hunting.”
“Thank you, Stoneteller.” Firestar dipped his head. “Your Tribe has shown us more kindness than we could have dreamed of, and we are sad to leave. But we are expected at another place promised to us by our warrior ancestors.” He turned to the other Clan leaders. “Tallstar, is WindClan ready?”
The WindClan leader stared at him, his eyes clouded with confusion, then glanced at Onewhisker, who was standing next to him. Onewhisker nodded back at him encouragingly, but before Tallstar could say anything, Mudclaw raised his head. “We’re ready,” he meowed.
“ShadowClan is ready too,” Blackstar called.
Leopardstar raised her tail. “All my cats are ready.”
“Not all of them.” Stormfur stepped forwards. “I’m staying here.”
There was a stunned silence from all the cats. Then Dustpelt spoke. “You can’t leave your Clan now!”
“He is free to choose,” murmured Tallpoppy. Her eyes rested on Brook, her gaze gentle and understanding.
“Greystripe’s kit would not make such a decision lightly,” Sandstorm put in.
Firestar looked thoughtfully at Stormfur. “I remember how hard it was for Greystripe to choose Silverstream over his Clan,” he mewed. “But from that difficult choice, you and Feathertail were born. Without you both, everything would have been different for the Tribe and for the Clans. Feathertail killed Sharptooth, and you finished a difficult journey to bring StarClan’s message back to us. No cat can question your loyalty and courage, nor criticise your choice, for as your father proved, great things come from listening to your heart.”
Approving murmurs echoed around the cave until Leopardstar silenced the cats with a sharp yowl.
Squirrelpaw’s pelt prickled. Would Leopardstar let her warrior go?
The RiverClan leader stared at Stormfur, her eyes narrowed. “Stormfur,” she meowed at last, “RiverClan will miss your courage and skill, but so much has changed in our lives that it is not impossible we will meet again, in this life or the next.” She dipped her head, accepting Stormfur’s decision without anger. “I wish you well.”
Brook brushed her tail against Stormfur’s flank as the Clans filed slowly out of the cave. Squirrelpaw looked sadly back at her friend, wishing he could at least be part of the patrol that would accompany them to the edge of the Tribe’s territory. But Stormfur stayed where he was, his grey pelt glowing in the shimmering light of the waterfall, his eyes betraying the depths of his grief. However much he wanted to live with the Tribe, Squirrelpaw knew that watching the Clans leave without him must be like losing Silverstream, Feathertail, and Greystripe all over again.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” she asked Brambleclaw.
He gave her ear a swift lick. “I do.”
They followed the other cats out of the gorge and up into the peaks, the sun to one side of them as they headed along the mountain range.
“Do you think they’re taking us the right way?” she whispered to Brambleclaw.
Brambleclaw blinked. “I hope so.” He craned his neck. “It does seem to be the same direction we saw the star fall. I just hope they don’t lead us too far and we miss it.”
As he spoke, the Tribe cats veered their path and headed down through a winding pass. The ground suddenly fell away and the land rolled ahead of them, hill after hill, grassy here, shadowed with woodland there. From where the Clans stood, on the edge of the mountains, the greenness seemed strange after the endless grey and white of the crags. In the sunshine Squirrelpaw could see streams glimmering among the bare trees like silver birch bark in an oak forest.
“Is that it?” Brambleclaw breathed.
“‘Hills, oak woods for shelter, running streams.’” Squirrelpaw found herself quoting Midnight’s prophecy.
“But there’s so much of it!” Tawnypelt had slipped beside them. “How will we know where to stop?”
Brambleclaw shook his head, and they stared in silence until a flicker above their heads caught Squirrelpaw’s eye. Something was moving on the crest of the rocks that lined the mountain pass. Her pelt prickled with fear. Was it an eagle? She forced herself to look up and saw that it was not a bird. It was Stormfur and Brook, racing along the ridge, calling their good-byes to the departing Clans.
As Stormfur bounded nimbly from rock to rock, Brook matched him step for step, so that their pelts brushed each other’s with every leap. Stormfur’s mud-slicked fur was visible only when he crossed a patch of snow, and Squirrelpaw could not help thinking that the RiverClan cat looked almost Tribe-born.
CHAPTER 25
Leafpaw shook the drizzle from her whiskers and padded after the others up the heather-covered slope. They had trekked all morning, leaving the snow and mountains behind, chased by the rain that rolled down from the mountains after them.
“Have you noticed Tallstar?” Sorreltail whispered, padding beside her.
The WindClan leader was walking beside Onewhisker through the banks of heather. Despite the rain, he no longer leaned against Onewhisker’s flank, but padded confidently, as if he finally believed he was within reach of his Clan’s new home. He pricked his ears as a rabbit darted from a boulder further ahead. Onewhisker glanced at his leader, and, when Tallstar nodded, he darted after the rabbit. Tornear and Webfoot raced up the slope after him.
“I think the smell of the heather has given WindClan some of their old spirit back,” Leafpaw purred.
All the cats seemed more relaxed than they had been in the mountains, not just WindClan. Blackstar padded next to Firestar. Dustpelt walked alongside Russetfur, the heather brushing his striped flank as he talked comfortably to the ShadowClan deputy.
“I never thought I’d see Dustpelt so comfortable around the other Clans,” Leafpaw commented.
“He’ll soon be back to his old self,” Sorreltail replied matter-of-factly, “once we’re settled in our new home and things are back to normal.”
“There will always be four Clans,” Leafpaw murmured, half to herself. But would there really? Looking around, she realised with a shock that it was impossible to tell from the throng of cats where one Clan ended and another began.
“I’m just glad to be out of the mountains,” Sorreltail mewed. “Stormfur was brave to stay.”
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bsp; “He had so little left in the Clans,” Leafpaw murmured.
“Well, I’d rather be here,” Sorreltail decided.
“Even though we don’t know where we’re heading?” Leafpaw asked her, surprised.
“Look at this place!” Sorreltail flicked her tail at the land around them. “No sign of monsters or churned earth. And it’s good to smell prey again.” She swiped her tongue around her lips.
As she spoke Onewhisker came trotting back towards the Clans, a rabbit dangling from his jaws. Leafpaw knew she was right—this place felt safer than anywhere they had been for many days and nights—but with no sign from StarClan, was it really their new home?
“Leafpaw!”
Cinderpelt’s voice shocked her into wakefulness. She blinked open her eyes. It was still dark.
“Is everything OK?” she asked, struggling to her paws and staring around the shadowy copse where the Clans had sheltered for the night. A chilly wind whipped between the trees.
“Firestar wants to set off as early as possible,” Cinderpelt told her.
“Why can’t we stay here?” Leafpaw heard Birchkit’s fretful mew and, as her eyes became accustomed to the predawn light, she saw him staring up at his mother, crouched between the roots of a tree.
“We can’t stop yet.” Brambleclaw’s deep mew rang out before Ferncloud could reply. “StarClan will tell us when we have found our new home.”
“But the sign might come if we wait here,” Dustpelt meowed.
“Wait here?” Mudclaw glared at the ThunderClan cats. “These trees may feel like home to you, but not to us.”
“The streams here aren’t wide enough for fish,” Leopardstar pointed out.
Squirrelpaw nodded. “We must keep going.”
