Kitabı oku: «MIDNIGHT», sayfa 4

Oh, StarClan, he mewed silently. I hope you know what you’re doing!

CHAPTER 4

Brambleclaw emerged from the warriors’ den and glanced around the clearing. Another quarter moon had passed, and still there was no rain. Over all the forest, the air was hot and heavy. The streams near the camp had dried up, so the Clan had to travel to the stream that flowed past Fourtrees when they needed water. Luckily it ran deep through the rocky soil, and flowed even in the driest greenleaf.

Ever since the Gathering Brambleclaw’s sleep had been disturbed, and when he woke each morning he struggled with the foreboding that something terrible had happened to the camp during the night. But everything seemed as peaceful as it had been the day before. This morning, Whitepaw and Shrewpaw were practicing their fighting moves outside the apprentices’ den. Mousefur emerged from the gorse tunnel with a squirrel clamped in her jaws, followed by her apprentice, Spiderpaw, and Rainwhisker, who also carried fresh-kill. Firestar and Greystripe were talking together at the base of the Highrock, with Squirrelpaw and Dustpelt listening close by.

Firestar beckoned Brambleclaw over with his tail. “Are you up for an extra patrol?” he asked. “I want to check the border with ShadowClan, in case they get the idea of coming across here to find water.”

“But Blackstar said that his Clan has all the water they need,” Brambleclaw reminded him.

Firestar’s ears twitched. “True. But we don’t necessarily believe what Clan leaders say at a Gathering. Besides, I’ve never trusted Blackstar. If he thinks we have richer prey in our territory, he’ll send warriors in to help themselves, for sure.”

Greystripe growled agreement. “ShadowClan have been quiet for too many moons. If you ask me, it’s about time they started making trouble.”

“I just thought—” Brambleclaw stopped, embarrassed to be seen objecting to his leader’s order, and amazed that he could see a possibility Firestar didn’t seem to have considered.

“Go on,” Firestar prompted.

Brambleclaw took a deep breath. He couldn’t get out of this now, in spite of the green glare that Squirrelpaw was giving him for daring to disagree with her father. “I just think that if there is trouble, it’s more likely to come from WindClan,” he ventured. “If their territory is as dry as Tallstar said, then they’re bound to be short of prey.”

“WindClan!” Squirrelpaw burst out. “Brambleclaw, are you completely mouse-brained? RiverClan gave WindClan permission to drink at the river, so if they steal prey from anywhere they’ll steal it from RiverClan.”

“And that strip of RiverClan territory is really narrow between the river and our border,” Brambleclaw retorted. “If WindClan do hunt, the prey could easily cross into our territory.”

“You think you’re so clever!” Squirrelpaw sprang to her paws, her fur bristling. “Firestar ordered you to check the ShadowClan border, so you should do what you’re told.”

“Of course, you’ve never disobeyed a warrior, have you?” Dustpelt put in dryly.

Squirrelpaw ignored her mentor. “ShadowClan have always caused trouble,” she persisted. “But we’re friends with WindClan now.”

Brambleclaw found himself getting angrier and angrier. Of course he didn’t want to question Firestar’s authority. Firestar was the hero who had saved the forest from the terrible ambitions of Tigerstar and the rogue cats who followed him. There would never be another cat like him. Yet Brambleclaw really believed that ThunderClan should take a possible threat from WindClan seriously. He would have liked to discuss it properly with Firestar, but that was impossible when Squirrelpaw insisted on arguing with everything he said.

“You’re the one who thinks she knows it all,” he spat, taking a step toward her. “Will you just listen for one moment?”

He ducked to avoid her paw as she lashed at him, claws unsheathed, and his last scrap of self-control deserted him. Falling into a crouch, he got ready to spring at her, his tail twitching back and forth. If Squirrelpaw wanted a fight, she could have one!

But before either of the young cats could attack, Firestar pushed in between them. “That’s enough!” he snarled.

Brambleclaw froze in dismay. Straightening up, he gave his chest an anxious lick and murmured, “Sorry, Firestar.”

Squirrelpaw stayed silent, giving him a mutinous glare, until Dustpelt prompted her. “Well?”

“Sorry,” Squirrelpaw muttered, and instantly spoiled her apology by adding, “But he’s still a mouse-brain.”

“Actually, I think he’s got a point, don’t you?” Dustpelt meowed to Firestar. “I agree that ShadowClan have always been trouble and always will be, but if WindClan happen to spot a juicy vole or a squirrel on our side of the border, don’t you think they might be tempted?”

“You could be right,” Firestar conceded. “In that case, Brambleclaw, you’d better take a patrol up the RiverClan border as far as Fourtrees. Dustpelt, you and Squirrelpaw can go as well.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced from his daughter to Brambleclaw and back again. “And you will get along with each other, or I’ll want to know why.”

“Yes, Firestar,” Brambleclaw replied, relieved that he had gotten off so lightly for nearly flattening Squirrelpaw.

“That’s two patrols, then,” Greystripe mewed cheerfully. “I’ll find some more cats to go with me up the ShadowClan side.” He jumped to his paws and vanished into the warriors’ den.

Firestar nodded to Dustpelt, giving him authority over the patrol, and padded away to his den on the other side of the Highrock.

“Right, let’s go,” meowed Dustpelt. He set off toward the gorse tunnel, only to glance back at Squirrelpaw, who had not moved. “What’s the matter now?”

“It’s not fair,” Squirrelpaw muttered. “I don’t want to patrol with him.”

Brambleclaw rolled his eyes, but had the sense not to start their quarrel again.

“Then you shouldn’t have said what you did,” Dustpelt told his apprentice. Pacing back, he stood over her and gazed sternly down at her. “Squirrelpaw, sooner or later you must learn there are times to speak, and times to be silent.”

Squirrelpaw heaved a noisy sigh. “But it seems like it’s always time to be silent.”

“There, you’ve got the idea.” Dustpelt flicked her ear with his tail, and Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of the affection there was between mentor and apprentice. “Come on, both of you. We’ll renew the scent markings, and with any luck we’ll come across a mouse or two while we’re out.”

Squirrelpaw recovered her good temper when she caught a plump vole at Sunningrocks. Brambleclaw had to admit that she was an efficient hunter, patiently stalking her prey and pouncing on it to dispatch it with one blow of her paw.

“Dustpelt, I’m starving,” she announced. “May I eat it?”

Her mentor hesitated for a heartbeat and then nodded. “The Clan has been fed,” he replied. “And this isn’t a hunting patrol.”

Squirrelpaw shot a glance at Brambleclaw as she crouched over the fresh-kill and took an eager bite. “Mmm . . . delicious,” she mumbled. Then she stopped and nudged the remains of the vole toward Brambleclaw. “Want some?”

Brambleclaw was on the brink of telling her that he could catch his own prey until he realised that Squirrelpaw was trying to make friends again. “Thanks,” he meowed, taking a bite.

Dustpelt leaped down from the top of the rock. “When you’ve quite finished stuffing yourselves . . .” he began. “Squirrelpaw, what can you scent?”

“Apart from vole, you mean?” Squirrelpaw mewed cheekily. Springing to her paws, she tasted the air. The breeze was blowing from RiverClan territory, and she soon replied, “RiverClan cats—strong and fresh.”

“Good.” Dustpelt looked pleased. “A patrol just went by. Nothing to do with us.”

And no sign of WindClan, Brambleclaw commented to himself as they moved off again. Not that this meant his suspicions were wrong—he did not expect to see any of their cats this far downstream, the whole length of ThunderClan territory away from their own border.

As they drew closer to Fourtrees and passed the Twoleg bridge, all three cats paused to scan the slope. The breeze had dropped and the air was still and heavy with the scent of cats.

“WindClan and RiverClan,” Brambleclaw mewed quietly to Dustpelt.

The older warrior nodded. “But they’re allowed to go down to the river,” he reminded him. “There’s no sign that they’ve crossed our border.”

“So there!” Squirrelpaw couldn’t resist adding.

Brambleclaw shrugged, telling himself that he would rather be proved wrong. He didn’t want trouble with WindClan.

Dustpelt was just moving off again toward Fourtrees when Brambleclaw caught another scent—WindClan again, but much stronger and fresher than before. Not daring to call out, he signaled frantically to Dustpelt with his tail, angling his ears in the direction where he thought the scent was coming from. Dustpelt crouched down in the long grass and signaled to his companions to do the same.

Please, StarClan, Brambleclaw begged, don’t let Squirrelpaw make a smart remark!

But the apprentice remained silent, flattening herself to the ground and staring at the clumps of bracken that Brambleclaw had indicated. For a while, the only sound was the slap and murmur of the river nearby. Then there was a dry, rustling sound, and a mottled brown cat peered out of the bracken before creeping into the open a couple of tail-lengths on the ThunderClan side of the border. Brambleclaw recognised Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy. He was followed by Onewhisker and a smallish dark grey cat Brambleclaw had never seen before—an apprentice, he guessed—carrying a vole in his jaws.

Glancing back, Mudclaw murmured, “Head for the border. I can smell ThunderClan.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dustpelt growled, rising up out of the grass.

Mudclaw recoiled and drew his lips back in a snarl. At once Brambleclaw leaped up to stand beside his Clan mate, and Squirrelpaw dashed up to her mentor’s other side.

“What are you doing on our territory?” Dustpelt demanded. “As if I need to ask.”

“We’re not stealing prey,” Mudclaw retorted.

“Then what’s that?” Squirrelpaw asked, flicking her tail toward the vole that the apprentice was carrying.

“It’s not a ThunderClan vole,” Onewhisker explained. An old friend of Firestar’s, he looked thoroughly embarrassed to be caught like this on ThunderClan territory. “It ran across the border from RiverClan.”

“Even if that’s true, you’re stealing it from RiverClan,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “You’re allowed to drink from the river, not to take prey.”

The grey-black apprentice dropped the vole and launched himself across the grass at Brambleclaw. “Mind your own business!” he spat.

He barrelled into Brambleclaw and knocked him over; Brambleclaw let out a surprised yowl as the apprentice’s teeth closed in the loose skin on his neck. Twisting his body, he managed to score his claws down the other cat’s shoulder, and felt strong hind paws scrabbling at his belly. With a screech of fury he tore his neck free and dived for his opponent’s throat.

As his teeth found their mark, Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of Onewhisker aiming a blow with his paw. He braced himself to fight both cats at once, before he realised that the WindClan warrior had batted the apprentice away and was standing over him, rage smoldering in his eyes.

“That’s enough, Crowpaw!” he snarled. “Attacking a ThunderClan warrior when we’re trespassing on their territory? What next?”

Crowpaw shot him a furious look through narrowed eyes. “He called us thieves!”

“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Onewhisker turned to Dustpelt, who was standing a few fox-lengths away. As Bramble claw scrambled to his feet he saw that the ThunderClan warrior had thrust himself in front of Squirrelpaw, preventing her from joining in the fight.

“I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Onewhisker went on. “It is a RiverClan vole, and I know we shouldn’t have taken it, but there’s hardly any prey in our own territory. Our elders and kits are hungry, and—” He stopped as if he thought he had already said too much. “What will you do now?”

“The vole’s between you and RiverClan,” Dustpelt meowed coldly. “I see no need to tell Firestar about this—unless it happens again. Just get out of our territory, and stay out.”

Mudclaw nudged Crowpaw to his paws. The WindClan deputy still looked furious at being found out, and Brambleclaw noticed that he did not add his apology to Onewhisker’s. Without a word he headed for the border, with Onewhisker close behind him. Crowpaw hesitated; then with a defiant glance he snatched up the vole and streaked after his Clan mates.

“I suppose we’ll never hear the last of that!” Squirrel paw spat at Brambleclaw. Her eyes glittered with annoyance. “Happy now you’ve been proved right?”

“I didn’t say a word!” Brambleclaw protested.

Squirrelpaw didn’t reply, but stalked off with her tail in the air. Brambleclaw looked after her with a sigh. He would much rather the incident had never happened. His fur prickled with the sense of impending disaster. Clans were becoming so thirsty and desperate that even decent cats like Onewhisker were prepared to trespass, steal, and lie. Heat lay over the forest with the weight of a huge, choking pelt, and it seemed as if every living thing was waiting for a storm to break. Could this be the trouble that StarClan had foretold?

The next few days and nights, as the moon waned to the merest scratch in the sky, seemed never-ending to Brambleclaw. When he thought of what might happen at Fourtrees when he went to meet Tawnypelt, he felt every hair in his pelt rise up with dread. Would the other Clan cats come? And what exactly would be revealed at midnight? Perhaps StarClan themselves would come down and speak with them.

At last the night came when there was almost no moon at all, but the stars of Silverpelt glittered so brightly that Brambleclaw had no difficulty in finding his way through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine. Leaves rustled as he brushed through the undergrowth from one patch of shade to the next, trying to tread as lightly as if he were creeping up on a mouse. Other ThunderClan warriors might be out late, and Brambleclaw did not want to be seen, nor to explain where he was going. He had not told any cat about his dream, and he knew that Firestar would not approve of his going to meet with cats of other Clans at Fourtrees when he was not protected by the full-moon truce.

The air was cool now, but there was a dusty scent in the air, rising from the parched earth. Plants were drooping or lay withering on the ground. The whole forest cried out for rain like a starving kit, and if it did not come soon, it would not be only WindClan who were short of water.

When Brambleclaw reached Fourtrees the clearing was empty. The sides of the Great Rock glimmered with starshine, and the leaves of the four oak trees rustled gently overhead. Brambleclaw shivered. He was so used to seeing the hollow full of cats that it seemed more daunting than before: so much bigger, with so many unexplained shadows. He could almost imagine that he had stepped into the mystical world of StarClan.

He padded across the clearing and sat at the base of the Great Rock. His ears were pricked to catch the smallest sound, and every nerve from ears to tail-tip was stretched with anticipation. Who would the other cats be? As moments slipped by, his excitement was replaced by anxiety. Not even Tawnypelt had arrived. Perhaps she had changed her mind, or perhaps this was the wrong meeting place after all.

At last he saw movement in the bushes about halfway up the side of the hollow. Brambleclaw tensed. The breeze was blowing away from him, so he could not pick up the scent; from the direction it was coming it could have been either a RiverClan or WindClan cat.

He followed the movement with his eyes as far as a clump of bracken at the bottom of the slope. The fronds waved wildly, and a cat stepped into the clearing.

Brambleclaw stared, frozen for a heartbeat, then sprang to his paws, his neck fur bristling in fury.

“Squirrelpaw!”

CHAPTER 5

Brambleclaw stalked stiff-legged across the clearing until he stood face to face with the apprentice. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?” he hissed.

“Hi, Brambleclaw.” Squirrelpaw tried to sound calm, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her excitement. “I couldn’t sleep, and I saw you leaving, so I’ve been following you.” She gave a little purr of delight. “I was good, wasn’t I? You never knew I was there, all the way through the forest.”

That was true, though Brambleclaw would have died rather than tell her he was impressed. Instead, he let out a low growl. For two mousetails he felt like springing at the ginger she-cat to claw the smug expression off her face. “Why can’t you mind your own business?”

The she-cat narrowed her eyes. “It’s any cat’s business when a Clan warrior sneaks out of camp at night.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Brambleclaw protested guiltily.

“Oh, no?” Squirrelpaw sounded scornful. “You leave camp, come straight up here to Fourtrees, and sit waiting for ages, looking like you expect every warrior in the forest to jump out at you. Don’t tell me you’re just enjoying the beautiful night.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Brambleclaw heard his voice grow desperate; all he wanted was to get rid of this annoying apprentice before any cats from other Clans arrived. She hadn’t mentioned the dream, which meant she couldn’t have had it as well, so she had no right to be here and find out the next part of the prophecy—if that was what was really going to happen. “This has got nothing to do with you, Squirrelpaw. Why don’t you just go home?”

“No.” Squirrelpaw sat down and curled her tail around her front paws, glaring at Brambleclaw with wide green eyes. “I’m not leaving until I find out what’s going on.”

Brambleclaw let out a snarl of sheer frustration, only to jump when a voice growled behind him, “What’s she doing here?”

It was Tawnypelt, slipping out from behind the Great Rock. She padded across the clearing and narrowed her eyes at Squirrelpaw. “I thought we weren’t going to tell any other cats?”

Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle. “I didn’t tell her. She saw me leaving and followed me.”

“And it’s a good thing I did.” Squirrelpaw stood up and met Tawnypelt’s gaze, her ears flat against her head. “You creep out at night and come up here to meet a ShadowClan warrior! What’s Firestar going to think about that when I tell him?”

Brambleclaw’s belly lurched uncomfortably. Perhaps he ought to have told Firestar about the dream right from the start, but it was too late now.

“Listen,” he meowed urgently. “Tawnypelt isn’t just a ShadowClan warrior; she’s my sister. You know that as well as any cat. We’re not plotting anything.”

“Then why all the secrecy?” Squirrelpaw demanded.

Brambleclaw was searching for a reply when Tawnypelt interrupted him, flicking her tail toward the slope. “Look.”

Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of something grey moving among the bushes, and a heartbeat later Feathertail and Stormfur stepped into the clearing. They glanced around warily, but as soon as Feathertail spotted the other cats she raced across the clearing toward them.

“I was right!” she exclaimed, skidding to a halt in front of Brambleclaw and the two she-cats. Her eyes widened, beginning to look puzzled and a little daunted. “Did you have the dream as well? Is it the four of us?”

“Tawnypelt and I have had it,” Brambleclaw replied, at the same moment Squirrelpaw asked, “What dream?”

“The dream from StarClan, telling us that there’s trouble ahead.” Feathertail sounded more uncertain still, and her gaze flicked tensely from cat to cat.

“Did you both have the dream?” Brambleclaw asked, glancing at Stormfur as the RiverClan warrior caught up with his sister.

Stormfur shook his head. “No, only Feathertail.”

“It scared me so much,” Feathertail confessed. “I couldn’t eat or sleep for thinking about it. Stormfur knew something was wrong, and he pestered me so much that I told him what I’d dreamed. We decided that I should come to Fourtrees tonight, at the new moon, and Stormfur wouldn’t let me come by myself.” She gave her brother’s ear a friendly lick. “He . . . he didn’t want me to be in danger. But I’m not, am I? I mean, we all know each other.”

“Don’t be so quick to trust every cat,” Stormfur growled. “I don’t like meeting cats from other Clans in secret like this. It’s not what the warrior code tells us.”

“But we have each had a message from StarClan, telling us to come,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “Bluestar visited Bramble claw, and Nightstar came to me.”

“And I saw Oakheart,” Feathertail meowed. “He said great trouble was coming to the forest, and I would have to meet with three other cats at the new moon to hear what midnight tells us.”

“I was told that, too,” Tawnypelt confirmed. With a twitch of her ears at Stormfur she added, “I don’t much like it either, but we should wait and see what StarClan want.”

“At midnight, I suppose,” Stormfur meowed, glancing up at the stars. “It must be nearly that now.”

Brambleclaw’s heart sank as he noticed Squirrelpaw’s eyes getting wider and wider. “You mean that StarClan told all of you to meet here?” the young she-cat burst out. “And they say there’s trouble coming? What kind of trouble?”

“We don’t know,” Feathertail replied. “At least, Oakheart didn’t tell me. . . .” She trailed off, looking flustered, but Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt shook their heads to show that their dream-cats hadn’t shared this with them either.

Stormfur’s eyes narrowed. “Your Clan mate hasn’t had the dream,” he mewed to Brambleclaw. “What’s she doing here?”

“You didn’t have it either.” Squirrelpaw wasn’t afraid to stand up to the RiverClan warrior. “I’ve as much right to be here as you.”

“Except I didn’t invite you,” Brambleclaw growled.

“Chase her off, then,” Tawnypelt suggested. “I’ll help.”

Squirrelpaw took a step toward the ShadowClan warrior, her fur fluffed out and her tail bristling. “Just lay one paw on me . . .”

Brambleclaw sighed. “If we chase her off now she’ll go straight to Firestar,” he meowed. “She’s heard pretty much everything, so she might as well stay.”

Squirrelpaw gave a disdainful sniff and sat down again. She drew her tongue down her paw and calmly began to wash her face.

“Honestly, Brambleclaw,” Tawnypelt growled. “You should have been more careful. Letting an apprentice track you!”

“What’s going on?” A new voice came from behind them, high-pitched and aggressive. “This can’t be right—Deadfoot said there were only supposed to be four of us.”

Brambleclaw jumped and looked around. His eyes narrowed into a furious glare as he recognised the cat with smoky grey-black fur, lean limbs, and small, neat head. “You!” he spat.

Standing a couple of fox-lengths away was the WindClan apprentice Crowpaw, who had trespassed on ThunderClan territory and stolen a vole.

“Yes, me,” he retorted, his fur bristling as if at any moment he might spring and finish off the fight.

Tawnypelt pricked her ears. “This is a WindClan cat, right?” She looked Crowpaw up and down dismissively. “Undersized specimen, isn’t he?”

“He’s an apprentice,” Brambleclaw explained, as Crowpaw drew his lips back in a snarl. “His name’s Crowpaw.”

He glanced at Squirrelpaw, willing her to keep silent about the incident with the vole. He wanted WindClan brought to justice over the prey stealing, but properly, at a Gathering, not by provoking a fight here. After all, what they were doing here was already a long way outside the warrior code. Squirrelpaw twitched the tip of her tail, but to Brambleclaw’s relief she said nothing.

“You had the dream too?” Feathertail asked; Brambleclaw saw the anxiety beginning to fade from her blue eyes, as if she were drawing courage from a growing certainty that the dreams were true.

Crowpaw gave her a curt nod. “I spoke with our old deputy, Deadfoot,” he meowed. “He told me to meet three other cats at the new moon.”

“Then that’s one cat from each Clan,” replied Feathertail. “We’re all here.”

“Now we just have to wait for midnight,” Brambleclaw added.

“Do you know what this is about?” Crowpaw turned his back on Brambleclaw and appealed directly to Feathertail.

“If it were me,” Squirrelpaw meowed before Feathertail could reply, “I’d be a bit less quick to believe in these dreams. If there was really trouble on its way, do you think StarClan would come to you first, before the Clan leaders or medicine cats?”

“Then how do you explain it?” Brambleclaw asked, all the more defensive because he had felt exactly the same doubts that Squirrelpaw was voicing now. “Why else would we all have had the same dream?”

“Maybe you’ve all been stuffing yourselves with too much fresh-kill?” Squirrelpaw suggested.

Crowpaw whipped around with an angry hiss. “Who asked you, anyway?” he demanded.

“I can say what I like,” Squirrelpaw shot back at him. “I don’t need your permission. You’re not even a warrior.”

“Nor are you,” the grey-black cat snapped. “What are you doing here, anyway? You didn’t have the dream. No cat wants you here.”

Brambleclaw opened his jaws to defend Squirrelpaw. Even though he had been annoyed with her for following him, it was no business of Crowpaw’s to tell her what to do. Then he realised that Squirrelpaw wouldn’t thank him; with her ready tongue she was quite capable of defending herself.

“I don’t see them falling over themselves to welcome you, either,” she growled.

Crowpaw spat, his ears flattened and his eyes glaring fury.

“There’s no need to get angry,” Feathertail began.

The small black cat ignored her. Lashing his tail from side to side, he sprang at Squirrelpaw. An instant later Bramble claw leaped too, barrelling into him and rolling him over before his claws could score down her flank.

“Back off,” he hissed, pinning Crowpaw down with a paw on his neck. He could hardly believe that the WindClan apprentice would start a fight now, when they were waiting for a message from StarClan, and linked in the prophecy through their dreams. If StarClan had really chosen them for a mysterious destiny, they would surely not fulfil it by shedding one another’s blood.

The light of battle died from Crowpaw’s eyes, though he still looked furious. Brambleclaw let him get up; he turned his back and started to groom his ruffled fur.

“Thanks for nothing!” Brambleclaw was hardly surprised to see that Squirrelpaw was glaring at him with just as much hostility as Crowpaw. “I can fight my own battles.”

Brambleclaw let out a hiss of exasperation. “You can’t start fighting here. There are more important things to think about. And if these dreams are true, then StarClan wants the Clans to work together.”

He glanced around the clearing, half hoping that a cat from StarClan would appear to tell them what they were supposed to be doing, before a fight broke out that he couldn’t stop. But Silverpelt shone on a clearing empty of any cats but themselves. He could smell nothing but the ordinary night scents of growing plants and distant prey, and hear nothing but the sigh of wind through the branches of the oaks.

“It must be after midnight now,” Tawnypelt meowed. “I don’t think StarClan are coming.”

Feathertail turned to look all around the clearing, her blue eyes once more wide with anxiety. “But they have to come! Why did we all have the same dream, if it wasn’t true?”

“Then why is nothing happening?” Tawnypelt challenged her. “Here we are, meeting at the new moon, just as StarClan told us. We can’t do any more.”

“We were fools to come.” Crowpaw gave them all another unfriendly stare. “The dreams meant nothing. There’s no prophecy, no danger—and even if there were, the warrior code should be enough to protect the forest.” He began to stalk across the clearing to the slope on the WindClan side, and his last words were flung over his shoulder. “I’m going back to camp.”

“Good riddance!” Squirrelpaw yowled after him.

He ignored her, and a moment later had disappeared into the bushes.

“Tawnypelt’s right. Nothing is going to happen,” Stormfur meowed. “We might as well go too. Come on, Feathertail.”

“Just a minute,” mewed Brambleclaw. “Maybe we got it wrong—maybe StarClan was angry because of the fighting. We can’t just pretend that nothing has happened, that none of us had those dreams. We ought to decide what we’re going to do next.”

“What can we do?” Tawnypelt asked. She flicked her tail toward Squirrelpaw. “Maybe she’s right. Why would StarClan choose us and not our leaders?”

“I don’t know, but I think they have chosen us,” Feathertail meowed gently. “But somehow we haven’t understood properly. Maybe they’ll send us all another dream to explain.”

“Maybe.” Her brother didn’t sound convinced.

“Let’s all try to come to the next Gathering,” Brambleclaw suggested. “There might be another sign by then.”

“Crowpaw won’t know to meet us there,” Feathertail murmured, glancing at the spot in the bushes where the WindClan apprentice had vanished.

“No loss,” Stormfur remarked, but at his sister’s anxious look he added, “We can keep an eye open for him when he comes to the river to drink. If we see him we’ll pass the message on.”

“All right, that’s decided,” meowed Tawnypelt. “We meet at the Gathering.”

“And what do we tell our Clans?” Stormfur asked. “It’s against the warrior code to hide things from them.”

“StarClan never said we had to keep the dream secret,” Tawnypelt put in.

“I know, but . . .” Feathertail hesitated and then went on, “I just feel it’s wrong to talk about it.”