DAWN

Crowpaw raced past her to take the lead, knowing the territory better than any of them. He headed towards a swath of gorse and disappeared along a rabbit track with Tawnypelt close behind. Squirrelpaw ducked her head to avoid catching her ears on the prickers as she followed them along the narrow tunnel. Brambleclaw and Stormfur were hot on her heels; she could feel the thud of their paws through the soil.

As the gorse closed around her, memories beat dark wings inside her head, reminding her of the dreams that had been disturbing her sleep—dreams of darkness and of a small space filled with panic and fear-scent. Squirrelpaw was sure these terrifying dreams were somehow connected to her sister. She told herself that now that she was home, she would be able to find out exactly where Leafpaw was—but feeling a fresh wave of alarm, she raced towards the light.

She slowed down when she emerged into an open grassy space. Brambleclaw and Stormfur burst out after her, their fur raked by the sharp gorse spines.

“I didn’t know you were scared of the dark,” teased Brambleclaw, falling in beside her.

“I’m not,” Squirrelpaw objected.

“I’ve never seen you run so fast,” he purred, his whiskers twitching.

“I just want to get home,” Squirrelpaw replied stubbornly. She ignored the glance Brambleclaw and Stormfur exchanged as they padded along beside her. The three cats were trailing behind Tawnypelt and Crowpaw, who had disappeared into a bank of heather.

“What do you think Firestar will say when we tell him about Midnight?” Squirrelpaw wondered out loud.

Brambleclaw’s ears twitched. “Who knows?”

“We’re only the messengers,” meowed Stormfur. “All we can do is tell our Clans what StarClan wanted us to know.”

“Do you think they’ll believe us?” Squirrelpaw asked.

“If Midnight was right, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble convincing them,” Stormfur pointed out grimly.

Squirrelpaw realised that she had thought of nothing except returning home to her Clan. She had pushed from her mind all thoughts of the threat that faced the forest. But her heart twisted with fear at Stormfur’s words, and Midnight’s terrifying warning echoed in her mind: Twolegs build new Thunderpath. Soon they come with monsters. Trees will they uproot, rocks break, the earth itself tear apart. No place left for cats. You stay, monsters tear you too, or you starve with no prey.

Her stomach tightened with dread. What if they were too late? Would there even be a home to return to?

She tried to calm herself by recalling the rest of Midnight’s prophecy: But you will not be without a guide. When return, stand on Great Rock when Silverpelt shines above. A dying warrior the way will show. Squirrelpaw breathed deeply. There was still hope. But they had to get home.

“I smell WindClan warriors!”

Brambleclaw’s yowl jerked Squirrelpaw back to the moorland. “We must catch up with Crowpaw and Tawnypelt!” she gasped. The impulse to face danger side by side with her travelling companions had become so instinctive that she had forgotten Crowpaw was actually WindClan and would not be in any danger from his Clanmates.

She burst out of the heather into a clearing and nearly collided with a scrawny WindClan apprentice. She stopped dead and stared at him in surprise.

The apprentice was a very young tabby, barely old enough to leave the nursery, from the look of him. He was crouching in the center of the clearing with his back arched and his pelt bristling even though he was outnumbered and outsized by Crowpaw and Tawnypelt. He flinched as Squirrelpaw hurtled out of the heather, but bravely stayed where he was.

“I knew I smelled intruders!” he hissed.

Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes. Did a pathetic scrap like this really expect to take on three full-grown cats? Crowpaw and Tawnypelt looked calmly at the WindClan apprentice. “Owlkit!” Crowpaw meowed. “Don’t you recognise me?”

The apprentice tipped his head to one side and opened his mouth to scent the air.

“I’m Crowpaw! What are you doing out here, Owlkit? Shouldn’t you be in the nursery?”

The young apprentice flicked his ears. “I’m Owlpaw now,” he snapped.

“But you can’t be an apprentice!” Crowpaw exclaimed. “You’re not six moons old yet.”

“And you can’t be Crowpaw,” growled the tabby. “Crowpaw ran away.” But he loosened his battle-ready muscles and padded over to the WindClan cat, who stood calmly while the apprentice sniffed his flank.

“You smell strange,” Owlpaw declared.

“We’ve travelled a long way,” explained Crowpaw. “But we’re back now, and I need to speak with Tallstar.”

“Who must speak with Tallstar?” A belligerent meow made Squirrelpaw jump, and she turned to see a WindClan warrior pick his way out from the heather, lifting his paws high to avoid the thorns. Two more warriors followed him. Squirrelpaw stared at them in alarm. They were so thin she could see the ribs beneath their fur. Hadn’t these cats been catching any fresh-kill recently?

“It’s me! Crowpaw!” meowed the WindClan apprentice, the tip of his tail twitching. “Webfoot, don’t you recognise me?”

“Of course I do,” meowed the warrior in a flat tone. He sounded so indifferent that Squirrelpaw felt a jab of pity for her friend. This was no sort of homecoming—and Crowpaw hadn’t even given his Clanmates the bad news yet.

“We thought you were dead,” Webfoot meowed.

“Well, I’m not.” Crowpaw blinked. “Is the Clan OK?”

Webfoot’s eyes narrowed. “What are these cats doing here?” he demanded.

“They travelled with me,” Crowpaw replied. “I can’t explain now, but I will tell Tallstar everything,” he added.

Webfoot seemed uninterested in Crowpaw’s words, and Squirrelpaw felt the scrawny warrior’s gaze rake over her as he hissed, “Get them off our territory! They should not be here!”

Squirrelpaw couldn’t help thinking Webfoot was in no state to drive them out if they refused to go, but Brambleclaw stepped forward and dipped his head to the WindClan warrior. “Of course we’ll leave,” he meowed.

“We have to return to our own Clans anyway,” Squirrelpaw added pointedly. Brambleclaw shot her a warning glance.

“Then hurry up,” snapped Webfoot. He looked at Crowpaw. “Come on,” he growled. “I’ll take you to Tallstar.” He turned and began to head for the far side of the clearing.

Crowpaw twitched his tail. “Surely the camp is that way?” he meowed, signalling toward the other direction.

“We live in the old rabbit warrens now,” Webfoot told him.

Squirrelpaw saw confusion and anxiety flash in Crowpaw’s eyes. “The Clan has moved?”

“For now,” Webfoot answered.

Crowpaw nodded, though his gaze was still filled with questions. “Can I say goodbye to my friends?”

“Friends?” One of the other warriors spoke, a pale brown tom. “Do your loyalties lie with cats from other Clans now?”

“Of course not!” Crowpaw insisted. “But we have travelled together for more than a moon.”

The WindClan warriors glanced uncertainly at each other but said nothing as Crowpaw walked over to Tawnypelt and touched her mottled flank with his nose. He brushed affectionately past Brambleclaw and Stormfur; as he stretched his head to touch his muzzle against hers, Squirrelpaw was surprised by the warmth of his farewell. Crowpaw had found it hardest out of all of them to fit into the group, but after all they had been through together, even he felt the bond of friendship that connected all five cats.

“We must meet again soon,” Brambleclaw murmured, his voice low. “At the Great Rock, just as Midnight told us. We need to see the dying warrior so that we know what to do next.” He flicked his tail. “It might not be easy to convince our Clans that Midnight is telling the truth. The leaders aren’t going to want to hear that they must leave the forest. But if we’ve seen the dying warrior . . .”

“Why don’t we just bring our leaders with us?” Squirrelpaw mewed. “If they see the dying warrior too, they’ll have to believe Midnight is right.”

“I can’t imagine Leopardstar agreeing to come,” Stormfur warned.

“Nor Blackstar,” Tawnypelt agreed. “It’s not full moon, so there’s no truce among the four Clans.”

“But it’s so important,” Squirrelpaw persisted. “They must come!”

“We can try,” Brambleclaw decided. “Squirrelpaw’s right. This might be the best way to share the news.”

“OK,” Crowpaw meowed. “We’ll meet at Fourtrees tomorrow night, with or without our leaders.”

“Fourtrees!” Webfoot’s growl made Squirrelpaw jump. The WindClan warrior had obviously overheard their conversation. She felt a stab of guilt, although she knew there was no disloyalty to their Clans in what they were planning—quite the opposite, in fact. But Webfoot seemed to have other fears on his mind.

“You can’t meet at Fourtrees. There’s nothing left of it!” he spat.

Squirrelpaw felt her blood chill.

“What do you mean?” Tawnypelt demanded.

“All the Clans watched the Twolegs destroy it two moonrises ago, when we arrived for the Gathering. The Twolegs and their monsters cut down every one of the oaks.”

“They cut down the oaks?” Squirrelpaw echoed.

“That’s what I said,” growled Webfoot. “If you’re mouse-brained enough to go there, you’ll see for yourself.”

Squirrelpaw’s fierce desire to return home, to see her Clan and father and mother and sister, washed over her again like a wave, and her paws twitched with the urge to run back to the forest. The others seemed to share her feeling; Brambleclaw’s gaze hardened, and Stormfur kneaded the ground impatiently with his paws.

Crowpaw glanced at his Clanmates and then back at his friends. “Good luck,” he meowed quietly. “I still think we should meet there tomorrow night, even if the oaks have gone.” When Brambleclaw and Stormfur nodded, he turned and followed Webfoot into the heather.

As the WindClan cats disappeared from sight, Brambleclaw scented the air. “Let’s go,” he ordered. “We’re heading over the old badger set towards the river, Tawnypelt, but I think you should stay with us till we reach the WindClan border.”

“But it would be quicker if I head straight towards the Thunderpath,” Tawnypelt argued.

“It will be safer if we keep together till we’re off the moorland,” Stormfur meowed. “You don’t want to be caught alone on WindClan territory.”

“I’m not scared of WindClan,” Tawnypelt hissed. “Judging by those warriors, they’re hardly battle-fit.”

“We mustn’t do anything to provoke them,” Brambleclaw warned. “No cat knows yet where we’ve been, or what we have to tell them.”

“And we don’t know what the Twolegs have done here,” Stormfur added. “If we run into any of their monsters, we’ll be better off together.”

Tawnypelt gazed intently at her companions for a moment, then nodded.

Squirrelpaw blinked with relief. She did not want to say goodbye to another friend just yet.

Brambleclaw charged away over the moor, and the three other cats followed close behind. As they raced across the grass, the weak leaf-fall sunshine scarcely warmed the fur on Squirrelpaw’s back. They ran in silence, and she felt their mood darken as though a cloud had covered the sky. Ever since leaving the mountains, they had concentrated on nothing but reaching the forest, all equally desperate to return home. Squirrelpaw was beginning to think it might have been easier to keep travelling, to journey forever through unfamiliar territory, rather than face the responsibility of having to tell the Clans that they would have to leave their homes or else face a terrible death. But there was still the sign of the dying warrior to come—they had to see this through.

The reek of Twoleg monsters stung her nostrils as they approached the border. There was no sign of any prey: no birds in the sky and no scent of rabbits among the gorse. WindClan had never been an easy territory to hunt in, but there had always been traces of prey on the breeze or in the sandy soil. Even the buzzards, which often hovered over the wide stretch of moorland, were gone.

The four cats reached the crest of a rise, and Squirrelpaw swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retch as the tang of monsters grew stronger. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look down the slope. A whole slice of land had been carved out of the moorland, brown and grey and broken instead of the smooth green expanse that had been there when the cats began their journey. In the distance, Twoleg monsters growled across the ground, chewing the earth with their heavy paws to leave a trail of useless mud.

Trembling, Squirrelpaw whispered, “No wonder WindClan moved to the rabbit warrens! The Twolegs must have destroyed their camp.”

“They’ve destroyed everything,” Brambleclaw breathed.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tawnypelt hissed. Squirrelpaw heard anger in her voice, and saw her long, hooked claws sink into the grass.

Brambleclaw continued to stare at the ravaged landscape. “I can’t believe how much they’ve destroyed.”

Squirrelpaw’s throat tightened. Seeing Brambleclaw’s misery was almost as bad as looking at the ruined moor. “Come on,” she urged. “We have to get home and find out what has happened to our Clans.”

He nodded. Squirrelpaw saw him brace his shoulders as if he were literally carrying the weight of the message they had to take to their Clan. Without saying anything else, he headed down the slope, keeping well away from the Twoleg monsters, and together the cats picked their way across the swath of churned-up ground. Squirrelpaw was grateful for the cold night that had set the mud hard; if it rained, this would turn into a clogging brown river, enough to swallow kits and suck at the bellies of the longest-legged warriors.

When they reached the WindClan border where the land swept down to the forest, Tawnypelt paused. “I’ll leave you here,” she meowed. Her voice was calm but her eyes betrayed her sadness. “We’ll meet at Fourtrees tomorrow, whatever the Twolegs have done,” she promised.

“Good luck with Blackstar,” Brambleclaw meowed, rubbing his muzzle along his sister’s cheek.

“I don’t need luck,” she replied grimly. “I will do whatever it takes to persuade Blackstar to come with me. Our quest isn’t over yet. We have to keep going for the sake of our Clans.”

Squirrelpaw felt a renewed burst of energy as the tortoiseshell warrior pelted away toward the ShadowClan border. “And we’ll persuade Firestar!” she called after her.

The grass grew softer under their paws as Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, and Stormfur approached the RiverClan border; soon Squirrelpaw could scent the markers and hear the distant thundering of water in the gorge. RiverClan territory lay on the other side, and just beyond the gorge there was a Twoleg bridge that would take Stormfur across the river to his camp.

Brambleclaw paused as if he expected Stormfur to leave them there, but Stormfur just looked into his eyes. “I’m coming with you to the ThunderClan camp,” he meowed quietly.

“Coming with us? Why?” Squirrelpaw exclaimed.

“I want to tell my father about Feathertail,” he replied.

“But we can tell him,” she offered, wanting to spare Stormfur the pain of telling Greystripe, the ThunderClan deputy, about his daughter’s death. Greystripe had fallen in love with a RiverClan she-cat, Silverstream, many moons ago. She had died bearing his kits, and though Stormfur and Feathertail had grown up in RiverClan, they had always known their ThunderClan father.

Stormfur shook his head. “He has already lost our mother,” he reminded her. “I want to be the one to tell him about Feathertail.”

Brambleclaw nodded. “Then come with us,” he mewed gently.

In single file the three cats followed the path away from the gorge and down into the trees. Squirrelpaw’s fur prickled with anticipation as she breathed the musty smell of fallen leaves. They were nearly home. She quickened her pace until her paws were flying across the soft forest floor. She felt Brambleclaw’s pelt brush against hers as he sped up to join her.

But Squirrelpaw wasn’t running from excitement or joy at being back in the forest. Something was calling her home—something even more desperate than the threat of the Twolegs and their monsters. The sinister dreams that had disturbed her sleep flooded her mind again and echoed in her heart like the warning cry of a hawk. Something was terribly wrong.

CHAPTER 2

“Spottedleaf!” Leafpaw called desperately into the forest. There was no reply. The wise medicine cat had guided her many times before in dreams; if ever Leafpaw had needed Spottedleaf’s help, it was now.

“Spottedleaf, where are you?” she called again.

The trees did not even tremble in the breeze. No prey-sound whispered in the shadows. The silence tore at Leafpaw’s heart like a claw.

Suddenly an unfamiliar yowl echoed in her ears, forcing its way into her dream. Leafpaw opened her eyes with a jolt. For a moment she couldn’t think where she was. Her fur was ruffled by a cold draft, and instead of a soft, mossy nest there was a strange, cold, shiny web beneath her paws. She stood up in panic, and more shiny web grazed her ears. Wherever she was, it was a very small space, hardly taller than she was. Taking a deep breath, Leafpaw forced herself to look around, and everything came rushing back to her.

She was trapped in a tiny den, with walls, floor, and roof made entirely from cold, hard web. There was just enough space to stand and stretch, but no more. It was packed among other dens lining every wall of a small wooden Twoleg nest.

Leafpaw longed to see the stars, to breathe in the comforting presence of StarClan and know they were watching her, but when she looked up she saw nothing but the nest’s steeply pitched roof. The only light came from a shaft of moonlight that streamed through a small hole in the wall at one end of the nest. Her den was on top of others; the one directly below was empty, but beneath that she could just make out a bundle of dark fur. Another cat? Not a forest cat, since its scent was unfamiliar. The shape was so still, it must have been sleeping. If it was alive at all, Leafpaw thought grimly.

She listened again for the yowl, but the cat that had cried out was silent now, and Leafpaw could hear only the soft mewling and shuffling of cats trapped in the other dens. She sniffed the air but recognised no scents. An acrid Twoleg stench filled the nest, tinged with fear. Leafpaw unsheathed her claws, feeling them catch on the shiny web.

StarClan, where are you? The thought fleetingly crossed her mind that she was already dead, but she thrust it away with a shudder that made her claws scrape against the floor of the den.

“You’re awake at last,” whispered a voice.

Leafpaw jumped and craned her neck to look over her shoulder. A heap of tabby fur stirred in the den beside hers, and she smelled the unmistakable Twoleg-tainted scent of a kittypet. There had been kindness in the she-cat’s voice, but Leafpaw felt too wretched to reply. Her mind flooded with bitter memories of how the Twolegs had trapped her while she was hunting with Sorreltail and brought her to this awful place. She had been separated from her Clan and locked in darkness. Overwhelmed by despair, she buried her nose in her paws and closed her eyes.

Another voice sounded from a den further along. It was too quiet to make out the words, but there was something familiar about it. Leafpaw lifted her muzzle to taste the air, but all she could smell was a sour tang that reminded her of the herbs Cinderpelt used for cleaning wounds. The voice spoke again, and Leafpaw strained her ears to listen.

“We must get out of here,” the cat was mewing.

Another cat answered from the far side of the nest. “How? There’s no way out.”

“We can’t just sit here waiting to die!” the first voice insisted. “There have been other cats here—I can smell them, and their fear-scent. I don’t know what happened to them, but whatever it was must have scared their fur off. We’ve got to get out before we become nothing but stale fear-scent!”

“There’s no way out, you mouse-brain,” came a rough mew. “Shut up and let us sleep.”

The words made Leafpaw feel sick with fear and sadness. She didn’t want to die here! She flattened her ears and closed her eyes, clawing for the safety of sleep.

“Wake up!” A voice hissed in Leafpaw’s ear, jolting her out of troubled dreams.

She lifted her head and looked around. Watery sunlight filtered in through the hole in the wall, though it did nothing to lift the chill from her fur. In the weak dawn light she could see the tabby she-cat in the den next to her more clearly. The stranger was soft and well groomed, and Leafpaw was conscious of her own matted pelt as she stared at her. She was definitely a kittypet, plump and soft-muscled beneath her tabby pelt.

“Are you all right?” asked the kittypet, her eyes wide with worry. “You sounded as if you were in pain.”

“I was dreaming,” Leafpaw replied hoarsely. Her voice felt strange, as if she hadn’t spoken for several days, and as she spoke memories of her nightmare came flooding back: images of water-swollen rivers scarlet with blood—and great birds swooping out of the sky with thorn-sharp claws. For a heartbeat, Leafpaw saw Feathertail hidden in darkness and then swathed in starlight, and without understanding why, her paws trembled.

Outside a Twoleg monster roared into wakefulness, bringing her back to the wooden nest and the den that pressed around her.

“You don’t look well,” the kittypet commented. “Try eating some breakfast. There’s some in the corner of your cage.”

Cage? Leafpaw wondered at the strange word. “Is that what this den is called?” The kittypet was nodding through the web that separated the two “cages” towards a half-empty holder of stinking pellets.

Leafpaw looked at the Twoleg food in disgust. “I’m not eating that!”

“Then at least sit up and give yourself a wash,” the kittypet urged. “You’ve been hunched up like a wounded mouse since the workfolk brought you here.”

Leafpaw twitched her shoulders but didn’t move.

“They didn’t hurt you when they caught you, did they?” the kittypet asked. There was concern in her voice.

“No,” Leafpaw mumbled.

“Then get up and wash yourself,” she went on more briskly. “You’re no use to yourself or any cat moping around like that.”

Leafpaw did not want to get up and wash herself. The web floor scratched against her paws, and blood oozed from beneath one of her claws. Her eyes stung with the filthy air that filtered into the nest, fouled by the monsters outside. And StarClan had sent no comfort to ease the desperate fear that gripped her heart.

“Get up!” repeated the kittypet, more firmly this time.

Leafpaw twisted her head around to glare at her, but the kittypet held her gaze.

“We’re going to find some way to escape,” she mewed. “Unless you get up, stretch your muscles, and have something to eat and drink, you’re going to be left behind. And I’m not leaving any cat here if I can help it!”

Leafpaw blinked. “Do you know a way out of here?”

“Not yet,” admitted the kittypet. “But you might be able to help me find one if only you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

Leafpaw knew she was right. She wouldn’t solve anything by curling up and waiting to die. Besides, she wasn’t ready to join StarClan. She was an apprentice medicine cat—her Clan needed her here, in the forest. Whatever was left of it.

Pushing away the misery that had sapped her strength, she pulled herself up onto her paws. Her cramped muscles screamed in protest as she uncurled her tail and flexed her legs.

“That’s better,” purred the kittypet. “Now turn round. There’s more room to stretch if you face the other way.”

Leafpaw obediently wriggled round and reached her paws to the corner of the cage, gripping the web to brace herself. As she stretched, pressing her chest down and flexing her shoulders, she felt her stiff muscles soften. Feeling a little better, she began to wash herself, swiping her tongue over her flank.