MIDNIGHT

“And then it would have killed you with one swipe of its paw, and we’d still have to go back and report it,” Brambleclaw meowed discouragingly. “What do you think we would have said? ‘Sorry, Firestar, but we accidentally let a badger get your daughter’? He would have our fur off. Badgers are bad news, and that’s that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t catch Firestar leaving a badger in ThunderClan territory without doing anything.” Squirrel paw swung her tail up defiantly and plunged into the undergrowth to catch up with Thornclaw and Ashfur.

Brambleclaw raised his eyes, murmured, “Great StarClan!” and followed.

When he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing, the first cat he saw was Dustpelt. The brown tabby warrior was pacing up and down outside the apprentices’ den, his tail lashing from side to side. Two of the other apprentices, Spiderpaw and Whitepaw, were crouched in the shade of the ferns, watching him apprehensively.

As soon as Dustpelt spotted Squirrelpaw, he marched across the clearing towards her.

“Uh-oh,” Squirrelpaw muttered.

“Well?” the tabby warrior’s voice was icy. Brambleclaw winced, knowing how short-tempered he was; the only cat who had never felt the rough side of his tongue was Ferncloud. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

Squirrelpaw met his glare bravely, but there was a quaver in her voice as she replied, “I went on patrol, Dustpelt.”

“Oh, on patrol! I see. And which cat ordered you to go? Greystripe? Firestar?”

“No cat ordered me. But I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think.” Dustpelt’s voice was scathing. “I told you we would train today. Mousefur and Brackenfur took their apprentices to the training hollow to practise their fighting moves. We could have gone with them, but we didn’t, because you weren’t here. Do you realise that every cat has been searching the camp for you?”

Squirrelpaw shook her head, scuffling the ground with her front paws.

“When no cat could find you, Firestar took out a patrol to try following your scent. Did you see anything of him?”

Another shake of the head. Brambleclaw realised that following a scent in the heavy dew that morning would have been next to impossible.

“Your Clan leader has better things to do than chase after apprentices who can’t do as they’re told,” Dustpelt went on. “Thornclaw, why did you let her go with you?”

“I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Thornclaw apologised. “I thought she’d be safer with us than wandering around the forest by herself.”

Dustpelt snorted. “That’s true.”

“We could still go and do the training,” Squirrelpaw suggested.

“Oh, no. No more training for you until you learn what being an apprentice really means.” Dustpelt paused for a heartbeat. “You can spend the rest of the day looking after the elders. Make sure they have enough fresh-kill. Change their bedding. Go over their pelts for ticks.” He blinked. “I’m sure Cinderpelt has plenty of mouse bile for you.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes flew wide in dismay. “Oh, yuck!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

The young apprentice stared at him for a moment longer, as if she couldn’t believe he really meant it. When there was no change in her mentor’s hard stare, she whisked around and flounced across the clearing toward the elders’ den.

“If Firestar’s out looking for Squirrelpaw, we’ll have to wait for him to get back before we can report the badger,” Thornclaw observed.

“Badger? What badger?” asked Dustpelt.

While Thornclaw and Ashfur began to describe what they had seen at Snakerocks, Brambleclaw bounded across the clearing and caught up with Squirrelpaw just outside the elders’ den.

“What do you want?” she spat.

“Don’t be angry,” Brambleclaw mewed. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, even though she had deserved some sort of punishment for leaving the camp without any cat knowing where she was going. “I’ll help you with the elders, if you like.”

Squirrelpaw opened her mouth as if she were about to make a rude retort, and then clearly thought better of it. “OK, thanks,” she muttered ungraciously.

“You go and get the mouse bile, and I’ll make a start on the bedding.”

Squirrelpaw’s eyes opened wide in a winning expression. “You wouldn’t rather get the mouse bile, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t. Dustpelt especially told you to do that. Don’t you think he’ll check?”

Squirrelpaw shrugged. “No harm in trying.” With a flick of her tail, she stalked off to find Cinderpelt.

Brambleclaw headed for the elders’ den, which was in a patch of grass sheltered by a fallen tree. The tree was a burned-out shell; Brambleclaw could still scent the acrid tang from the fire that had swept through the camp more than four seasons ago, when he was only a kit. But the grass had grown up again around the tree trunk, thick and luxuriant, making a comfortable home for the elderly cats whose service to the Clan was done.

When he pushed his way through the grasses he found the elders sunning themselves in the small, flattened clearing. Dappletail, the oldest cat in ThunderClan, was curled up asleep, her patchy tortoiseshell pelt rising and falling with each breath. Frostfur, a still beautiful white queen, was dabbing lazily at a beetle in the grass. Speckletail and Longtail were crouched together as if they were in the middle of a good gossip. Brambleclaw felt the familiar jolt of sympathy when he looked at Longtail; the pale tabby tom was still a young warrior, but his eyesight had begun to fail so that he could no longer fight or hunt for himself.

“Hi, there, Brambleclaw.” Longtail’s head swung around as Brambleclaw entered the clearing, his jaws parted to take in the newcomer’s scent. “What can we do for you?”

“I’ve come to help Squirrelpaw,” Brambleclaw explained. “Dustpelt sent her to look after you today.”

Speckletail broke into rasping laughter. “I heard she went missing. The whole camp was in an uproar, looking for her. But I knew she’d just have gone off by herself.”

“She tagged onto the dawn patrol,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Before he could say any more, there was the sound of another cat pushing through the grasses, and Squirrelpaw appeared. She had a twig clamped in her jaws; hanging from it was a ball of moss soaked in mouse bile. Brambleclaw wrinkled his nose at the bitter scent.

“Right, who’s got ticks?” Squirrelpaw mumbled around the twig.

“You’re supposed to look for them yourself,” Brambleclaw pointed out.

Squirrelpaw shot him a glare.

“You can start with me,” Frostfur offered. “I’m sure there’s one on my shoulder, just where I can’t get at it.”

Squirrelpaw padded over to the she-cat, parting her white fur with a forepaw and grunting when she discovered the tick. She dabbed at it with the damp moss until it dropped off; ticks obviously found mouse bile as disgusting as cats did, thought Brambleclaw.

“Don’t worry, youngster,” Speckletail mewed as Squirrel paw went on searching Frostfur’s pelt. “Your father was punished many a time when he was an apprentice. Even after he became a warrior. I never knew such a cat for getting into trouble, and look at him now!”

Squirrelpaw swung around to look at the elder, her green eyes sparkling, obviously begging for a tale.

“Well, now.” Speckletail settled herself more comfortably in her grassy nest. “There was the time when Firestar and Greystripe were caught feeding RiverClan with prey from our own territory. . . .”

Brambleclaw had heard the story before, so he began to collect the elders’ used bedding, rolling the moss together until he had gathered it up in a ball. When he took it out into the clearing he spotted Firestar emerging from the gorse tunnel, with Sandstorm and Cloudtail behind him. Thornclaw was hurrying across to meet them from the other side of the clearing.

“Thank StarClan Squirrelpaw’s safe,” Firestar was mewing as Brambleclaw came into earshot. “One of these days she’ll get into real trouble.”

“She’s in real trouble now,” Sandstorm growled. “Just wait till I get my paws on her!”

“Dustpelt already did.” Thornclaw gave a mrrow of amusement. “He sent her to help the elders for the rest of the day.”

Firestar nodded. “Good.”

“And there’s something else,” Thornclaw went on. “We found a badger up at Snakerocks, living in the cave where the dogs used to be.”

“We think it might be the one that killed Willowpelt,” Brambleclaw put in, setting his ball of moss down. “We’ve not seen any trace of a badger anywhere else in the forest.”

Cloudtail let out a growl. “Oh, I hope it is. I’d give anything to get my claws on that brute.”

Firestar swung around to face him. “You’ll do nothing of the kind without orders. I don’t want to lose more cats.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We’ll keep watch on it for a while. Pass the word around not to hunt at Snakerocks for the time being. With any luck, it will move on before leaf-bare, when prey gets scarce.”

“And hedgehogs might fly,” Cloudtail grumbled, stalking past Brambleclaw toward the warriors’ den. “Badgers and cats don’t mix, and that’s the end of it.”

CHAPTER 3

“Squirrelpaw is upset,” Leafpaw remarked, watching her sister leave the medicine cat’s clearing with the twig of mouse bile clenched in her jaws.

“She deserves to be.” Cinderpelt glanced up from counting juniper berries. She spoke firmly, though not unsympathetically. “If apprentices think they can go off by themselves, without telling any cat, then where would we be?”

“I know.” While Leafpaw prepared the mouse bile, she had listened to her sister raging about how unfair the punishment was. Squirrelpaw’s anger churned deep within Leafpaw’s belly, as if the air in the camp were water and her sister was sending ripples of cold frustration into the medicine cat’s den. Ever since they were tiny kits they had always known what the other was feeling. Leafpaw remembered how her fur had tingled with excitement when Squirrelpaw was made apprentice, and how her sister had been unable to sleep on the night when Leafpaw had been apprenticed as a medicine cat at the Moonstone. Once she had felt an excruciating pain in her paw, and limped around the camp from sunhigh to sunset, until Squirrelpaw returned from a hunting patrol with a thorn driven deep into her pad.

Leafpaw shook her head as if she had a burr clinging to her pelt, trying to push away her sister’s emotions and concentrate on her task of sorting yarrow leaves.

“Squirrelpaw will be fine,” Cinderpelt reassured her. “It’ll all be forgotten tomorrow. Now, did you get any of that mouse bile on your fur? If you did, you’d better go and wash it off.”

“No, Cinderpelt, I’m fine.” Leafpaw knew her voice was filled with the strain she was feeling, however hard she tried to hide it.

“Cheer up.” Cinderpelt limped out of her den to join her apprentice, pressing her muzzle comfortingly against Leafpaw’s side. “Do you want to come to the Gathering tonight?”

“May I?” Leafpaw spun to face her mentor. Then she hesitated. “Squirrelpaw won’t be allowed to come, will she?”

“After today? Certainly not!” Cinderpelt’s blue eyes glowed with understanding. “Leafpaw, you and your sister aren’t kits anymore. And you have chosen a very different path from hers, to be a medicine cat. You will always be friends, but you can’t do everything together, and the sooner you both accept that, the better.”

Leafpaw nodded and bent over the yarrow leaves again. She struggled to calm her feelings of excitement over the Gathering, so that Squirrelpaw would not feel even more upset over being left out. Cinderpelt was right, but all the same she couldn’t help wishing that she and Squirrelpaw had been able to attend the Gathering together.

The full moon rode high in the sky as Firestar led the cats from ThunderClan up the slope toward Fourtrees. Padding along beside Cinderpelt, Leafpaw shivered with anticipation. This was the place where the territories of all four Clans joined together. At every full moon, the Clan leaders met here with their warriors under the sacred truce of StarClan to exchange news and make decisions that would affect the whole forest.

Firestar paused at the top of the slope and gazed down into the clearing. Leafpaw, near the back of the group, could only just see the tops of the four great oak trees that gave the clearing its name, but she could hear the sounds of many cats, and the breeze brought to her the mingled scents of ShadowClan, RiverClan, and WindClan.

Before her first Gathering, the only other cats Leafpaw had met were the three medicine cats from the other Clans, when she made her journey to Highstones at the half moon to be formally apprenticed. When she had attended a Gathering for the first time, she and Squirrelpaw had been overwhelmed by all the strangers, and had stayed close to their mentors. But this time Leafpaw felt more confident, and she was looking forward to meeting warriors and apprentices from other Clans.

Crouching in the undergrowth, she watched her father for the signal to move down into the clearing. Brambleclaw was standing just in front of her with Mousefur and Sorreltail. Leafpaw could see from the tautness in the young tabby’s muscles that he was eagerly waiting for the Gathering to start, while Sorreltail’s whole body quivered with excitement at the prospect of her first Gathering as a warrior. Further ahead, Greystripe and Sandstorm were exchanging a few words, while Cloudtail shifted impatiently from paw to paw. Briefly Leafpaw felt a pang of sadness that Squirrelpaw was not there as well, but to her relief her sister had not minded too much about being left behind, saying that she was looking forward to a good night’s sleep after caring for the elders all day.

At last Firestar raised his tail as the sign for his cats to move forward. Leafpaw sprang over the edge of the hollow and found herself racing down the slope just behind Brambleclaw, weaving her way through the bushes until she came out into the clearing.

The shimmering moonlight revealed a mass of cats, some already seated around the Great Rock in the centre, others trotting across the clearing to greet cats they had not seen for a moon, or lying in the shelter of the bushes to gossip and share tongues. Brambleclaw slipped into the throng right away, and Cinderpelt went over to speak to Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. Leafpaw hesitated, still a little daunted by the number of warriors in front of her, the unfamiliar scents, and the glowing of so many eyes that all seemed to be trained on her.

Then she caught sight of Greystripe with a group of cats who all had the scent of RiverClan. Leafpaw recognised a warrior with dense blue-grey fur whom they had met at the last Gathering, and remembered her name: Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy. The two younger warriors were strangers to her, but Greystripe greeted them affectionately, pressing his muzzle against theirs.

Leafpaw was just wondering if she would be welcome to go and talk to them when Mistyfoot caught her eye and beckoned to her with her tail. “Hi—it’s Leafpaw, isn’t it? Cinderpelt’s apprentice?”

“That’s right.” Leafpaw padded over. “How are you?”

“We’re all well, and the Clan is thriving,” Mistyfoot replied. “Have you met Stormfur and Feathertail?”

“My kits,” Greystripe added proudly, though it was several moons since these strong cats had left the nursery.

Leafpaw touched noses with the young warriors, realising that she should have guessed Stormfur was Greystripe’s kin. The two cats had the same muscular bodies and long grey pelt. Feathertail’s fur was a lighter silver-grey tabby; her blue eyes glowed with warmth and friendliness as she greeted Leafpaw.

“I know Cinderpelt well,” she meowed. “She looked after me once when I was ill. You must be proud to be her apprentice.”

Leafpaw nodded. “Very proud. But she knows so much, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever learn it all!”

Feathertail purred sympathetically. “I felt the same about becoming a warrior. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“You say the Clan’s thriving, Mistyfoot,” Greystripe meowed quietly, “but you’re looking worried. Is there a problem?”

Now that he mentioned it, Leafpaw could see a glimmer of uneasiness in the RiverClan deputy’s eyes. Mistyfoot hesitated for a couple of heartbeats and then shrugged. “It’s probably nothing but . . . Well, you’ll hear about it soon enough when the Gathering starts.”

As she spoke she glanced toward the Great Rock. Leafpaw saw that two cats were already waiting on the summit. Silhouetted against the shining circle of the full moon was Tallstar, leader of WindClan, easily recognizable by his long tail. Beside him stood Leopardstar, the RiverClan leader, staring around impatiently at the cats below. As Leafpaw watched, she saw Firestar leap up to join them.

“Where is ShadowClan’s leader?” Leopardstar called out. “Blackstar, what are you waiting for?”

“Just coming.” A heavy white tom with jet black paws shouldered his way through the cats not far from Leafpaw. He crouched at the base of the rock and sprang up to land lightly beside the RiverClan leader.

As soon as his paws touched the rock Leopardstar threw back her head and let out a yowl. At once the noise in the clearing died down and every cat turned to face the Great Rock. Feathertail settled down beside Leafpaw with a friendly glance, and Leafpaw found herself warming to the gentle young warrior.

“Cats of all Clans, welcome.” Tallstar, the eldest of all the Clan leaders, moved to the front of the Great Rock, raising his voice to address the assembled cats. Glancing at his fellow leaders, he asked, “Who will speak first?”

“I will.” Firestar stepped forward, his flame-coloured pelt turned silver in the moonlight.

Leafpaw listened as her father passed on the news about the badger at Snakerocks. It caused little stir; the creature was unlikely to move from there onto another Clan’s territory as long as the forest was full of prey.

“And we have a new warrior,” Firestar went on. “The Thunder Clan apprentice Sorrelpaw has taken the warrior name of Sorreltail.”

A murmur of appreciation rippled around the clearing; Sorreltail was popular and well-known among the other Clans, having been to several more Gatherings than the average apprentice. Leafpaw caught a glimpse of her sitting up very straight and proud beside Sandstorm.

Firestar stepped back and Blackstar took his place. He had taken over the leadership of ShadowClan after the death of Tigerstar. Under his leadership ShadowClan was trusted more than before, though it was still believed that cold winds blew over the hearts of the ShadowClan cats and darkened their thoughts.

“ShadowClan is strong and prey is plentiful,” Blackstar announced. “The heat of greenleaf has dried up part of the marshes on our territory, but we still have plenty of water to drink.”

His glance raked defiantly around the clearing, and Leafpaw reflected that even if ShadowClan had less than a single raindrop left in their territory, Blackstar was unlikely to admit as much to the Gathering.

Tallstar flicked his tail at Leopardstar, inviting her to speak, but she drew back, leaving the next place to him. The WindClan leader hesitated for a moment, and Leafpaw saw that his eyes were clouded with worry.

“Blackstar spoke truly of the heat of greenleaf,” he began. “It is many days since the forest saw rain, and the moorland streams on WindClan’s territory have been scorched away completely this last quarter moon. We have no water at all.”

“But the river borders your territory,” a cat called out from the shadows beneath the Great Rock; craning her neck to see, Leafpaw recognised Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy.

“The river runs through a deep, sheer-sided gorge for the whole length of our border,” Tallstar replied. “It’s too dangerous to go down there. Warriors have tried, and One whisker fell, though thank StarClan he was not hurt. Our kits and elders cannot manage the climb. They are suffering badly, and I fear that some of the younger kits might die.”

“Can’t your kits and elders chew grass for the moisture?” another cat suggested.

Tallstar shook his head. “The grass is parched. I tell you, there is no water anywhere on our territory.” Turning with clear reluctance to the RiverClan leader, he meowed, “Leopardstar, in the name of StarClan I must ask that you let us come into your territory to drink from the river there.”

Leopardstar came to stand beside the WindClan leader, her dappled golden fur rippling in the moonlight. “The water in the river is low,” she warned. “We have not escaped the effects of this drought in my Clan.”

“But there is far more than you need,” Tallstar responded, desperation creeping into his tone.

Leopardstar nodded. “That is true.” Coming to the very edge of the rock, she looked down into the clearing and asked, “What do my warriors think? Mistyfoot?”

The RiverClan deputy rose to her paws, but before she could speak one of her Clan mates cried out, “We can’t trust them! Let WindClan set one paw over our border, and they’ll be taking our prey as well as our water.”

Leafpaw could see the speaker, a smoky black tom, sitting a few foxlengths away, but she did not recognise him.

“That’s Blackclaw,” Feathertail murmured into her ear. “He’s loyal to the Clan, but . . .” She trailed off, obviously unwilling to say anything bad about her Clan mate.

Mistyfoot turned and fixed Blackclaw with a clear blue stare. “You forget the times when RiverClan has needed help from other Clans,” she meowed. “If they had not helped us then, we would not be here today.” To Leopardstar she added, “I say we should allow this. We have water to spare.”

The clearing fell silent as the cats waited for Leopardstar to make her decision. “Very well, Tallstar,” she meowed at last. “Your Clan may enter our territory to drink from the river just below the Twoleg bridge. But you will come no further, and you do not have leave to take prey.”

Tallstar bowed his head, and Leafpaw heard the relief in his voice as he replied, “Leopardstar, RiverClan has our thanks, from the oldest elder to the youngest kit. You have saved our Clan.”

“The drought will not last forever, and you will have water in your territory soon. We will discuss this again at the next Gathering,” Leopardstar meowed.

“I’m sure they will,” Greystripe muttered darkly. “If I know Leopardstar, she’ll make WindClan pay for that water somehow.”

“Let us hope that StarClan have sent rain by then,” Tallstar meowed, stepping back to let Leopardstar address the Gathering.

Leafpaw’s interest quickened as she wondered if they were about to hear what had been troubling Mistyfoot earlier, but at first the RiverClan leader’s news was unremarkable: a litter of kits had been born, and Twolegs had left rubbish by the river, attracting rats that had been killed by Blackclaw and Stormfur. Greystripe looked ready to burst with pride when his son was praised, while Stormfur scuffed the ground with his paws, his ears flat with embarrassment.

At last Leopardstar meowed, “Some of you have met our apprentices Hawkpaw and Mothpaw. They are now warriors, and will be known as Hawkfrost and Mothwing.”

The cats around Leafpaw craned their necks to see the warriors the RiverClan leader had named; Leafpaw turned to look too, but she could not distinguish them among the throng. The traditional welcoming murmur for all new warriors broke out at the announcement, but to Leafpaw’s surprise it was mingled with a few disconcerting growls, which she realised were coming from RiverClan cats.

Leopardstar glared down from the rock and stilled the noise with a flick of her tail. “Do I hear protests?” she spat out angrily. “Very well, I will tell you everything, to stop rumours flying once and for all.

“Six moons ago, at the beginning of newleaf, a rogue cat came to RiverClan, with her two surviving kits. Her name was Sasha, and the birth of her kits had weakened her so much that she needed help with hunting and caring for them. For a time she thought of joining the Clan, and we would have welcomed her as a warrior, but in the end she decided the warrior code was not the way of life for her. She left us, but her kits chose to stay.”