SUNSET

Stormfur touched Brook’s shoulder lightly with his tail. “That’s Midnight,” he meowed. “She wouldn’t hurt any cat .” He bounded forward to meet the elderly badger.

Midnight peered at Stormfur with short-sighted eyes. Then she gave a small nod. “Cat friend from journey,” she rumbled. “Good it is to see you again. And this cat from mountain Tribe, is she not?” she added, gesturing with her snout towards Brook.

“That’s right,” Stormfur meowed. “This is Brook, a prey-hunter from the Tribe of Rushing Water.” He beckoned Brook forward with his tail; she went over reluctantly, as if she couldn’t quite believe this badger was friendly. Brambleclaw understood her feelings; he knew Midnight as well as any cat, but it was hard not to look at her bulky shape without remembering snapping jaws, fierce gleaming eyes, and claws that shredded cats’ fur like leaves in newleaf . . .

There was the sound of heavy paws, and he looked up to see Midnight standing beside him. Grief and anger sparked from her berry-bright eyes. “Too late my warning,” she rasped. “Not enough could I do.”

“You brought WindClan to help us,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “Without you, our whole Clan would have been wiped out.”

Midnight bowed her head, the white stripe that ran the length of her snout gleaming in the faint moonlight. “Shame for my kin I feel.”

“Every cat knows this attack had nothing to do with you,” Brambleclaw told her. “You will always be welcome in this Clan.”

Midnight still looked troubled. Behind her, Brambleclaw spotted his Clan leader near the centre of the clearing, with Onestar and the WindClan warriors. He padded towards them, motioning with his tail for Stormfur and Brook to follow. A fox-length away, in the shelter of an upturned thorn-bush, Leafpool was bending over the limp body of Ashfur. For a heartbeat Brambleclaw wondered if the grey warrior was dead, until he saw Ashfur’s tail twitch. StarClan shall not take all our warriors tonight, he thought determinedly.

Firestar’s chest still heaved from the effort of fighting. His flame-coloured pelt was torn, and blood was oozing from a long scratch along his flank. Brambleclaw felt a flash of concern. Had his leader lost another life? Whether he had or not, he was badly hurt. I will help him until my last breath, Brambleclaw vowed. Together, we can bring the Clan through this until we are even stronger than before.

In spite of his injuries, Firestar’s eyes were bright and he sat up straight as he faced the WindClan leader, Onestar. “The thanks of all ThunderClan go with you,” he meowed.

“I doubt you’ll have any more trouble with the badgers,” Onestar replied. “But I can leave a couple of warriors behind to keep watch, if you like.”

“No thanks, I don’t think we’ll need them.” The warmth in Firestar’s eyes revealed the long friendship between these two cats. Brambleclaw silently thanked StarClan that the tension between them, which everyone had felt since Onestar became WindClan leader, seemed to be over at last. “Do your warriors need the help of our medicine cat before you go?” the ThunderClan leader added. “If any of them are badly injured, they’re welcome to stay here.”

Brambleclaw glanced across at Leafpool, who was still crouched beside Ashfur. When she heard Firestar, she raised her head and stared across the clearing at the WindClan warriors. Brambleclaw felt a stab of sympathy as her gaze sought out one in particular. Two days ago, Crowfeather and Leafpool had abandoned their Clans so that they could be together, but news of the badger attack had brought them home again. Brambleclaw hoped that Leafpool had come home for good; ThunderClan needed her more than ever now that so many cats had been wounded in the badger attack.

Crowfeather was staring down at his paws as if he was deliberately avoiding Leafpool’s gaze. Fur was missing from a broad scratch on his flank, but the wound had stopped bleeding and he stood with his weight on all four paws. Webfoot had a torn ear, and the WindClan deputy Ashfoot was bleeding from one shoulder, but none of the wounds looked serious enough to stop the warriors from returning to the WindClan camp.

“I think we’re all fit to travel, thank StarClan,” Onestar answered the ThunderClan leader. “If you’re sure you don’t need our help any more, we’ll return to our own territory now.”

Crowfeather raised his head and shot one despairing glance at Leafpool. She scrambled to her paws, leaving Ashfur, and padded across to meet the WindClan warrior. They stood a little way from the other cats, their heads close together. Standing in the shadows, Brambleclaw couldn’t help overhearing, but he didn’t want to disturb them by moving.

“Goodbye, Crowfeather,” Leafpool murmured, sounding choked with pain. “We . . . we’d better not see each other again.”

Crowfeather’s eyes flashed, and for a heartbeat Brambleclaw thought he was going to protest. Then he shook his head. “You’re right,” he meowed. “It would never have worked. I will never mean enough to you.”

Leafpool sank her claws into the ground. “You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

The tip of Crowfeather’s black tail twitched. “You’re a medicine cat. I understand what that means now. StarClan go with you, Leafpool. I’ll never forget you.”

He and Leafpool touched noses, a delicate contact that lasted less than a heartbeat. Then Crowfeather turned back to his Clanmates. Leafpool watched him go, her eyes clouded with loss.

Webfoot gave Crowfeather a dark look, and Weaselfur pointedly turned his back on him, but Onestar said nothing, only gathering all his warriors together with a sweep of his tail before leading them out of the camp.

“Thank you again!” Firestar called after them. “May StarClan light your path.”

Leafpool stood motionless until Crowfeather’s grey-black figure had vanished into the shadow of the trees, then padded across the clearing towards Cinderpelt’s den. On the way she flicked her tail to summon Brightheart, who had helped Cinderpelt with medicine cat duties in the past.

“Are you sure?” Brightheart asked hesitantly.

“Of course I’m sure.” Leafpool’s voice was ragged with exhaustion and grief. “Every cat in the Clan is wounded. I’ll be glad of your skills.”

Brightheart’s eyes gleamed, and she seemed to shake off some of her own weariness as she followed Leafpool to the den.

“Is that Stormfur and Brook?”

Brambleclaw jumped as a hoarse voice spoke in his ear. Squirrelflight had appeared beside him. Her dark ginger fur was matted with blood and the tip of one ear was torn.

“Can’t you see that it is?” Brambleclaw replied, realising too late how abrupt he sounded. “Sorry—” he began.

Squirrelflight took a pace forward so that her pelt brushed his. She touched the tip of her tail to his mouth to silence him. “Stupid furball,” she whispered.

Brambleclaw tensed, wondering if he was imagining the affection in her green gaze. Glancing past her, he saw Ashfur glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

Squirrelflight didn’t notice Ashfur. She limped past Brambleclaw to touch noses with the visitors. “Thank StarClan you have come,” she meowed, echoing Brambleclaw’s thoughts. “We need all our friends right now.”

Brambleclaw felt his shoulders droop in exhaustion just thinking about how much had to be done. Injuries to treat, dens to rebuild, fresh-kill to gather . . . “We’ll speak to Firestar and then get started.”

As they approached the Clan leader, Thornclaw staggered up to them. Blood trickled from a deep gash above one eye. “Stormfur?” he muttered, shaking his head in confusion. “No, it can’t be.” The golden brown warrior slumped to the ground, where he lay panting.

Squirrelflight rested her tail on his shoulder, urging him to lie still until his injuries could be treated. Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook up to Firestar.

The Clan leader’s eyes stretched wide in surprise. “Stormfur . . . and Brook! What are you doing here?”

“There’ll be time to explain later,” Stormfur meowed. “For now, Firestar, put us to work.”

Firestar stared around the clearing as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “We should sort out the warriors’ den so the cats who have been hurt most can get some sleep . . . but we need to get the entrance barrier back in place, too.”

The whole camp was devastated, and few of the ThunderClan cats were in any shape to start rebuilding. Ashfur was slumped on the ground, bleeding from flank and foreleg, while Leafpool patted cobwebs onto his wounds. Cloudtail limped up to her, holding one forepaw off the ground; blood trickled from where a claw had been torn out. “Hi, Stormfur,” he mewed as he passed, as if this had been such an extraordinary night, the sight of an old friend was no longer a surprise. “Leafpool, can I have a piece of that cobweb?”

Sandstorm was close behind him, her head bent with exhaustion and her tail dragging in the dust. She stopped dead when she spotted Leafpool, then swung around to face Firestar, her green eyes questioning.

“Leafpool’s here?” she meowed. “What happened?”

Firestar shook his head to silence her. “We’ll talk to her later,” he promised. “For now, she’s home, and that’s all that matters.”

“Firestar!” A yowl came from across the clearing. “Firestar, have those crow-food eaters gone?”

Brambleclaw turned to see the three elders, Mousefur, Goldenflower, and Longtail. In the darkness they had to pick their way carefully down the tumble of rocks that led to the ledge where Firestar had his den. They had taken shelter there while the battle raged below. It was Mousefur who had called out; she had lost some fur from one shoulder, Longtail’s tail was bleeding, and Goldenflower had a deep scratch down one side. She was guiding Longtail with her tail across his shoulders.

“Are you all right?” Brambleclaw asked, going to meet them.

“Fine,” Mousefur growled. “A badger tried to climb up to the Highledge, but we sent it back down the rocks faster than it intended.”

“What if they come back?” Goldenflower sounded distraught.

“They’d better not.” Longtail flexed his claws, and Brambleclaw saw dark tufts of badger fur caught in them. “I don’t need to see to fight badgers. I can find them by their disgusting scent.”

“Better let Leafpool look at those scratches,” Firestar meowed.

“Leafpool?” Mousefur’s voice was sharp as she swung around to stare at the medicine cat. “She’s back, is she? For good—or until that WindClan warrior starts sniffing around again?”

Brambleclaw bit back a sharp retort. He knew Mousefur sounded so harsh only because she was shocked and hurt.

“And who’s this?” Mousefur padded up to Stormfur and examined him with narrowed eyes. “Stormfur? What’s he doing here?”

“Just paying a visit.” Stormfur sounded uncomfortable at the brown elder’s suspicious tone.

Mousefur grunted, as if she wasn’t completely convinced that Stormfur was a friend. “You were a RiverClan warrior before you left us. Why are you here and not over there?”

“Mousefur, don’t be so ungrateful!” Squirrelflight meowed indignantly. “We need every cat who’s prepared to help. Besides, Stormfur is half ThunderClan, remember?” Stormfur’s father was Greystripe, the ThunderClan deputy who had been captured by Twolegs before the cats left the forest.

Mousefur bristled at Squirrelflight, but before she could reply she was interrupted by a cry from Ferncloud, racing through the broken thorns that were strewn across the entrance to the hollow. “Dustpelt, where are you?”

Brambleclaw bounded over to her as she stopped just inside the entrance, gazing around the dark camp and yowling her mate’s name.

“Brambleclaw, have you seen Dustpelt?” she demanded.

“No, not yet,” he admitted. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

“I should have stayed with him!” Ferncloud wailed. “I never should have left the camp!”

“But Daisy needed you,” Brambleclaw reminded her. “She couldn’t have coped without a warrior to look after her, and it was much safer for you both to stay hidden outside the camp. Remember, Daisy hasn’t been in the Clan long, and she can’t fight well enough yet to defend herself and her kits.”

Ferncloud shook her head distractedly. “Dustpelt can’t be dead,” she mewed.

“We’ll find him,” Brambleclaw promised. Silently, he hoped StarClan had not chosen this warrior to join their ranks tonight. He began to search, padding back and forth among the scattered remains of the entrance barrier, gradually working his way back towards the centre of the camp. His breath caught in his throat when he picked up Dustpelt’s scent and almost stumbled over a heap of tabby fur lying in the shadow of the rock wall. Dustpelt’s eyes were closed, but as Brambleclaw stared at him his ears twitched and he let out a sneeze.

“Ferncloud—over here!” Brambleclaw called.

“Dustpelt! Dustpelt!”

At the sound of his mate’s voice Dustpelt opened his eyes and started to struggle to his paws. Ferncloud bounded up to him, brushing her pelt against his and covering him with licks. Dustpelt let out an unsteady purr.

Brambleclaw decided that if Dustpelt could stand up, he could wait a while before Cinderpelt or Leafpool saw him. He was heading back to the clearing, anxious to start work on the wrecked camp, when he saw that Birchpaw had followed Ferncloud into the hollow. The young apprentice had lost almost all the fur from his haunches, and one eye was closed. With his good eye he darted nervous glances from side to side, as if he still expected to see the camp full of invading badgers.

Behind him, Daisy, the cat from the horseplace, picked her way through the thorns with her three kits scrambling after her. They stared with huge eyes at the devastated dens and the weary, wounded cats. Spotting Midnight standing in the shadows, Berrykit drew back his lips in a snarl. He took a pace forward, his legs stiff and his fur bristling.

With a squeak of alarm, Daisy rushed to his side. “Berrykit! What are you doing? Come away before the badger hurts you.”

“Nothing to fear, small one,” Midnight rumbled gently.

Daisy just glared at her, sweeping her tail around Berrykit and drawing him away towards the other cats. Brambleclaw realised she had no idea who Midnight was.

“It’s all right!” he called.

Leafpool reached the horseplace cat before him. “Don’t worry, Daisy,” she meowed. “Midnight’s a friend. Crow feather and I met her when we were up in the hills. She warned us that her kin were going to attack, and she brought WindClan to help us.”

“But she’s a badger!” Daisy exclaimed.

Brambleclaw padded over to help Leafpool explain. “We met Midnight on our journey to the sun-drown-place. She wouldn’t harm us.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Berrykit assured his mother. “I’ll look after you.”

“I bet you would, too.” Cloudtail limped up and gently flicked Berrykit’s ear with the tip of his tail. “It takes enough courage for a full-grown cat to face up to a badger. You’ll make a great warrior one day.”

Berrykit’s tail went straight up with pride. “Race you to the nursery!” he yowled to his littermates.

“No—wait!” Cloudtail called after the three kits. “You can’t go in there yet.”

“Why not?” Daisy asked, puzzled. “My kits need to rest.”

“Cinderpelt’s body is in there,” Leafpool mewed quietly. “A badger broke in while she was helping Sorreltail give birth.” Her voice quavered and she swallowed hard. “I tried to save her, but she was already on her way to StarClan.”

Brambleclaw stared at her in disbelief.

Cinderpelt was dead?

Chapter 2

Brambleclaw felt as if every drop of his blood had turned to ice. It was bad enough that any warrior should have gone to join StarClan tonight, but losing the Clan’s medicine cat was a cruel blow. He suddenly realised why Leafpool had asked Brightheart to help her treat the injured warriors.

Mousefur let out a shocked yowl. “She was only a young cat! She had her whole life ahead of her.”

Squirrelflight padded up and brushed her muzzle against Leafpool’s shoulder. “We won’t forget her,” she murmured.

Brambleclaw nodded, too shocked to speak. Leafpool stood with head bowed for a heartbeat, then nudged Thornclaw to his paws. “Come to my den.” Her voice sounded thin, as if she was keeping it tightly under control. “I have more cobwebs there.” She padded away, glancing back just once to be sure Thornclaw was following.

Movement in the darkness at the edge of the hollow caught Brambleclaw’s eye, and he turned to see Spiderleg and Whitepaw heading slowly towards them. Spiderleg beckoned with his tail; Brambleclaw had to force his numbed legs into action.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Come and see.” Spiderleg led the way to the wall of the hollow, near the escape route where Daisy and her kits had climbed to safety. A limp bundle of grey-black fur lay in the shadows.

“It’s Sootfur,” Whitepaw whispered. “I think he’s dead.”

Brambleclaw’s belly twisted. Even though he was afraid that Whitepaw was right, he nosed the young warrior’s body in the faint hope of rousing him. Sootfur didn’t move, and his glazed eyes stared at nothing.

“May StarClan light his path,” Brambleclaw murmured. Sootfur’s sister, Sorreltail, had only just given birth; how would she cope with the loss of her brother?

Both the younger cats were staring at Brambleclaw as if they were waiting for him to tell them what to do. With a massive effort he forced himself to think.

“Carry him into the centre of the camp, so we can have a vigil,” he meowed. “I’ll go and look for Rainwhisker.” Sootfur’s brother would have to be told; perhaps he could help their sister, Sorreltail.

Brambleclaw waited until Spiderleg and Whitepaw had lifted Sootfur’s body, then began to search. He couldn’t remember seeing Rainwhisker since the end of the battle. Anxiety sank sharp claws into him; surely Rainwhisker couldn’t be dead too?

Then he spotted the grey warrior half buried under the torn-up thorn branches that had once sheltered the warriors’ den. He lay without moving, but as Brambleclaw dragged a branch off him he managed to lift his head.

“The badgers—have they gone?” he asked hoarsely.

“It’s all over,” Brambleclaw replied. “But I’m afraid there’s sad news. Can you get up?”

With a grunt, Rainwhisker brought his paws under him and scrabbled at the prickly twigs until he had hauled himself upright. He balanced precariously on three legs; the fourth hung at an awkward angle, and Brambleclaw was afraid it had been broken. Giving Rainwhisker his shoulder for support, he guided him towards the centre of the camp where Sootfur now lay. Firestar, Squirrelflight, and several other cats stood around him, their heads bowed.

Rainwhisker let out a yowl of dismay at the sight of his brother’s body. Limping forward, he bent his head to thrust his nose into the grey-black fur. He stayed still for a few heartbeats, then looked up, his eyes filled with grief.

“I should tell Sorreltail,” he meowed.

Firestar twitched his tail to stop him. “Your leg needs to be seen to first. Some other cat—”

“No,” Rainwhisker interrupted stubbornly. “Let me do it. Sootfur was our brother. She will want to hear this from me.”

The Clan leader hesitated, then nodded. “OK, but go to see Cinderpelt as soon as you can.”

“Firestar, you mean Leafpool,” Sandstorm gently corrected him.

Firestar blinked, stupefied by shock and exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I still can’t believe Cinderpelt’s dead.”

Brambleclaw gazed at him sympathetically. The Thunder Clan leader had been very close to Cinderpelt. He was sure to be badly shaken by her death.

He’s going to need my help. Brambleclaw braced himself. Touching Squirrelflight on her shoulder with his tail, he murmured, “Let’s go and bring Cinderpelt’s body into the clearing.”

“Right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Rainwhisker, come with us if you want to speak to Sorreltail.”

The three cats made their way to the nursery. The bramble thicket, growing close to the wall of the hollow, was the least damaged part of the camp. Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Brackenfur had stayed there throughout the battle, defending the entrance while Sorreltail’s kits were born. Only part of it had been trampled down where the badger that killed Cinderpelt had swatted Brackenfur aside to break in.

Daisy and her kits were standing outside the entrance. Cloudtail and Ferncloud were with them, and Birchpaw, who lay splayed out on the ground beside his mother. For a dreadful instant Brambleclaw thought that the apprentice had died of his wounds, until he saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Ferncloud crouched over him, gently licking his shoulder.

Leafpool and Brightheart approached at the same time. Leafpool was carrying a wrap of herbs in her jaws, which she set down as Brambleclaw came up.

“Thank StarClan, Cinderpelt’s den was too small for the badgers to get in,” she meowed. “All her herbs and berries are still intact.” Her voice shook as she added, “Please can we move her body, so the Clan can sit in vigil for her?”

“We’ve come to do that,” Brambleclaw told her.

Leafpool blinked gratefully. “Thank you. Brightheart,” she went on, “please fetch some marigold for Birchpaw. Then tell all the cats who are able to walk to go to my den. It’ll be easier to treat them there. And let me know if there’s any cat who can’t manage it. I’ll need to see them first.”

Brightheart gave a brisk nod and left.

Leafpool led the way into the nursery, followed closely by Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, and Rainwhisker. Hardly any moonlight penetrated through the brambles, making it shadowy as a cave inside, and Brambleclaw winced as he stepped on a thorny tendril. He could just make out Cinderpelt lying on her side in a nest of soft moss. Her tail was curled over her nose, and she looked as if she were asleep.

Brambleclaw padded up to her. “Cinderpelt?” For a heartbeat he thought she might raise her head and answer him, but when he touched his nose to her fur it felt deathly cold.

Sorreltail was lying on the other side of the dead medicine cat, in the furthest corner of the nursery. Her body was curled away from Cinderpelt’s body, sheltering her kits. Her mate, Brackenfur, crouched beside her, his fur bristling; as the other cats entered he bared his teeth in a snarl.

“It’s all right, Brackenfur,” Brambleclaw meowed. “It’s only us. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Brackenfur relaxed, though he still looked wary, and shifted even closer to Sorreltail. Leafpool squeezed past Brambleclaw and began nosing carefully over the young tortoiseshell. Brambleclaw blinked, waiting for his eyes to get used to the gloom until he could see Sorreltail’s four kits burrowing blindly into her fur. Sorreltail was gazing up at Leafpool, her eyes blank with shock.

Rainwhisker edged up beside Brambleclaw. “What can I say to her?” he whispered. “She’s suffered enough already. Knowing about Sootfur could kill her.”

“Not when she has Brackenfur and Leafpool to look after her,” Brambleclaw reassured him. “Come on—it’s better for her to hear it from you than some other cat.”

Rainwhisker nodded, though he still looked uncertain. “Sorreltail . . .” he began, gently nuzzling his sister’s shoulder.

“Rainwhisker, is that you?” Sorreltail mewed, twisting her head around to look at him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be OK,” Rainwhisker replied. “But I’ve got some bad news. It’s Sootfur. He’s . . . dead.”

Sorreltail stared at him for a couple of heartbeats as if she hadn’t understood. Then she tipped back her head and let out a high-pitched wail. “No! Oh, no!”

Her body twisted in a spasm of grief; Brambleclaw heard a faint mewling of protest from the kits as they were dislodged from her belly.