TWILIGHT

“Cats of ThunderClan, three sunrises have passed since the battle with Mudclaw,” he meowed. “Two dead warriors still lie outside our camp. Now that we have rested, they must be returned to ShadowClan.”

A shiver passed through Squirrelflight’s pelt. She had discovered the stone hollow by falling into it when she and four other cats had first explored the forest; it was pure luck that the part of the cliff where she had slipped over had been too low for the fall to hurt her. But during the battle, two fleeing ShadowClan cats had hurtled over the precipice at its highest point and broken their necks in the clearing below.

“Do you think ShadowClan will want them?” Cloudtail meowed. “They were helping that traitor, Mudclaw, after all.”

“It’s not for us to decide another Clan’s loyalty to its warriors,” Firestar warned. “Mudclaw was no ordinary traitor. Even cats from other Clans believed he was the true leader of WindClan.”

Cloudtail twitched the tip of his tail, clearly dissatisfied, though Squirrelflight saw Brambleclaw nod as if he were thinking of Hawkfrost.

“The dead cats were ShadowClan’s warriors,” Firestar went on, “and their own Clanmates will want to honour them on their journey to StarClan. A patrol must take the bodies to the ShadowClan border.”

“I’ll go,” Thornclaw offered.

“Thank you.” Firestar dipped his head. “Brackenfur, will you go as well, and …”

He hesitated, his gaze travelling thoughtfully over his senior warriors. Squirrelflight realised this mission could be dangerous. Though only a few ShadowClan cats had been involved in the battle, their leader, Blackstar, might blame ThunderClan for the deaths of his warriors and use it as an excuse to attack.

“Dustpelt and Cloudtail,” Firestar decided. “Take the bodies to the border by the dead tree, then find a ShadowClan patrol and tell them what happened. But don’t look for trouble.” His gaze rested on Cloudtail for a moment, as if he were afraid the headstrong white warrior might say the wrong thing. “If ShadowClan seems hostile, get out of there fast.”

Thornclaw rose to his paws and beckoned the rest of the patrol with a sweep of his tail. Together they headed for the thorn tunnel. The bodies of the ShadowClan warriors lay just outside, hidden in a dense patch of brambles where they had been protected from foxes and other carrion eaters.

Firestar waited until the branches had stopped rustling behind the patrol before going on. “Last night Onewhisker should have travelled to the Moonpool to receive his nine lives and his name. But his leadership won’t be secure unless he is accepted by every one of his Clanmates. I’m going to lead a patrol to WindClan to check.”

“Surely that’s WindClan’s problem!” Mousefur protested. “ThunderClan warriors have already had their fur ripped off once helping Onewhisker. Haven’t we done enough?”

Squirrelflight, though she felt a twinge in her wounded side, couldn’t agree. “But if we risked our lives for Onewhisker,” she argued, “why not make certain it was worth the effort?”

Mousefur shot a glare at her, but Firestar waved his tail to stop the quarrel before it went any further.

Cinderpelt rose to her paws. “Whoever leads this patrol, it won’t be you, Firestar. You wrenched your shoulder in the battle, and you need to stay in the camp until it’s healed.”

Firestar’s neck fur bristled; then he relaxed and dipped his head to the medicine cat. “Very well, Cinderpelt.”

“I’ll lead the patrol.” That was Brambleclaw, springing to his paws.

“Thanks, Brambleclaw,” mewed Firestar. “You’d better not go on to WindClan territory, though. We must show that we respect their boundaries. Take the patrol along the border, and see if you can spot any of their cats.”

Brambleclaw nodded. “Don’t worry, Firestar. I’ll make sure no cat sets a paw over the border.”

Spiderleg, sitting on Ashfur’s other side from Squirrelflight, snorted. “Bossy furball,” he muttered. “Who does he think he is? Clan deputy?”

“Brambleclaw is a good warrior,” Ashfur mewed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be deputy.”

“Except that ThunderClan already has a deputy,” Spiderleg pointed out.

“But Greystripe isn’t here,” Ashfur replied. “And sooner or later Firestar is going to have to decide how long he’s prepared to wait for him.”

A sharp thorn of grief stabbed Squirrelflight. Twolegs had captured the ThunderClan deputy just before the Clan fled their old forest home; Squirrelflight still remembered the shock of watching Greystripe being carried away inside the growling, mud-spattered Twoleg monster. No cat knew what had happened to him, yet Firestar refused to believe he was dead, or to appoint another deputy in his place.

Does Brambleclaw really want to be deputy? Squirrelflight wondered. She couldn’t help thinking just like Tigerstar, and remembering how far the murderous tabby had been prepared to go to achieve his ambition.

Firestar called her name, dragging her back to the hollow. “Squirrelflight, you can go with Brambleclaw to WindClan. You too, Ashfur and Rainwhisker.”

Squirrelflight pricked up her ears; a run through the woods would blast away these troubling memories. Ashfur was on his paws already, his tail bolt upright.

“Let’s go!” Squirrelflight meowed, bouncing over to Brambleclaw.

“Not yet,” Brambleclaw replied crushingly, his gaze sweeping over her and Ashfur as if he hardly knew them. “I want to hear the rest of the meeting.”

Glaring at him, Squirrelflight sat down again.

“We need hunting patrols too,” meowed Firestar. “Sandstorm, can you organise those?”

“Of course.” Sandstorm looked up from where she sat at the bottom of the cliff. “But there’s one thing I want to say before we end the meeting.” She paused, and Firestar gestured with his tail for her to continue. “ThunderClan has only one apprentice now. It’s hard to get all the duties done.”

Sorreltail’s brother, Sootfur, twitched his tail. “Yes, I’m fed up with fetching moss for bedding. It’s not a proper warrior’s job,” he complained. He hadn’t been a warrior for long, and obviously had hoped he’d finished with apprentice duties forever once Firestar had given him his new name.

“That’s too bad.” Firestar’s voice was firm as he stared at the young warrior. “You can’t expect one apprentice to do it all.”

“Whitepaw works her paws off,” put in Mousefur. “She deserves a bit of help.”

Whitepaw, the only remaining apprentice, ducked her head and scuffled her forepaws. Squirrelflight could see she hadn’t expected praise from the wiry brown elder, whose tongue was as sharp as her claws.

“I’ll help!” Birchkit bounced up excitedly. “I’m old enough to be an apprentice!”

“No, you’re not,” his mother, Ferncloud, told him gently. “Not for another moon.”

“I’m afraid your mother’s right, Birchkit,” meowed Firestar. “But don’t worry, your time will come. And there’ll still be plenty for you to do. Sandstorm, will you sort out the duties in the meantime so no cat does more than their fair share?”

The ginger she-cat dipped her head in agreement. “I will, and I’ll make sure Whitepaw has enough time to train with her mentor as well. That’s another thing,” she added. “With no apprentices to train, we aren’t practising our warrior skills as much as we used to. If there’s another battle, we could have problems.”

“There’s not going to be another battle,” Spiderleg meowed. “Mudclaw is dead, so where’s the threat?”

“Yeah, we’ve got enough to do,” Sootfur muttered.

“And Mudclaw is the only cat who ever caused trouble?” Mousefur asked scathingly, with a contemptuous twitch of her whiskers. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll know there’s always some kind of threat.”

“Exactly, Mousefur,” Firestar mewed. “The four Clans are drawing apart again, and sooner or later we’ll find that we have no choice but to fight. We need one cat to be responsible for keeping up our battle skills.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to volunteer, but before he could speak Brambleclaw cut in. “I can do that, Firestar.”

Squirrelflight’s fur prickled. The Clan deputy would normally do this kind of job; it looked as if Brambleclaw really was trying to take Greystripe’s place.

“Starting tomorrow, I can spar with two or three cats every morning,” the tabby warrior went on. “Ashfur, I’ll start with you and Spiderleg.”

Ashfur’s blue eyes narrowed. “Claws sheathed?”

Brambleclaw’s gaze met his. “Claws sheathed, but that’s all. We’re not kits play-fighting.”

“Ashfur never said we were!” Squirrelflight sprang up, her fur bristling along her spine. “I’ll fight with you, and see if you think I’m playing!”

Brambleclaw blinked at her. “I’m sure Ashfur doesn’t need you to fight his battles, Squirrelflight. Why not let him speak for himself?”

Squirrelflight ignored Ashfur’s tail, laid warningly on her shoulder. She was too furious to remember she was in the middle of a Clan meeting. “You think you’re so great, Brambleclaw—”

“That’s enough!” Firestar lashed his tail. His green gaze scorched Squirrelflight’s fur; ashamed, she sat down again.

“Told you he’s a bossy furball,” Spiderleg whispered in her ear.

“Thank you, Brambleclaw,” Firestar meowed. “Make sure every cat has a chance to practise as soon as possible.” His gaze travelled over the cats below him as if he were taking in every clawmark and patch of missing fur, assessing how soon they’d be battle-fit again.

Brightheart stood up. “There’s a sheltered clearing not far from here.” The ginger and white she-cat pointed with her tail. “I was hunting there yesterday. The ground is flat and mossy, and it could be a good place to train, like the sandy hollow back in the forest.”

“Sounds ideal,” meowed Firestar. “Show me after the meeting. Brambleclaw, don’t forget to report to me as soon as you get back from WindClan.”

The tabby warrior gave a brisk nod. He turned to Squirrelflight. “We can go now, if you’re ready.”

Squirrelflight sprang up, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t tread on my tail, Brambleclaw.”

“Then start behaving like a warrior, not a mouse-brained apprentice. Unless you think Firestar should have chosen another cat to lead this patrol?”

His voice was as cold as his eyes. Squirrelflight felt a sting of dislike run through her fur. This was not the same cat who had travelled with her and the others to the sun-drown-place. He had been her closest friend on that journey, the cat who meant more to her than any of the others, and now she scarcely recognised him.

“Firestar can choose whichever cat he likes,” she replied, spitting each word out like grit. “You are one of his senior warriors, after all.”

“But that’s not what you really think,” Brambleclaw flashed back at her. His amber eyes blazed and his ears were flattened in fury. “You think I’m disloyal, because I have kin in another Clan. I saw you watching me when I was with Hawkfrost by the lake.”

“It’s a good thing I did,” Squirrelflight retorted. “Otherwise no cat would know that Hawkfrost was plotting to become WindClan deputy and then take over RiverClan. I heard what Mudclaw said.”

“Mudclaw was lying!” Brambleclaw hissed, his neck fur bristling with fury. “Why should we believe that traitor?”

“Why should we believe Hawkfrost?” Squirrelflight clawed the ground in frustration.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Brambleclaw countered. “Because Tigerstar was his father? Like he was my father too?”

“That’s not fair,” Ashfur protested, coming to stand at Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Squirrelflight didn’t say—”

“Keep out of this!” Brambleclaw rounded on the grey tomcat, tail lashing. “It’s got nothing to do with you!”

Squirrelflight’s claws slid out; she was within a heartbeat of slashing at Brambleclaw’s muzzle. Then she saw Firestar heading out of the camp with Brightheart, and she thought how angry her father would be if his warriors started fighting among themselves. She dug her claws deep into the peaty soil instead. “I don’t care who his father was!” she hissed. “I don’t trust Hawkfrost because he plotted to kill Onewhisker. He’ll do anything for power. A blind hedgehog could see it.”

Brambleclaw glared at her for a heartbeat. “You say that, yet you don’t have any proof. Hawkfrost is my brother. I’m not going to turn my back on him when he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Fine!” Squirrelflight exclaimed. “You’re so besotted with him you wouldn’t know the truth if it sat up and bit you. Why not join RiverClan too, if it makes you happier? You obviously don’t care about ThunderClan—or me.”

Brambleclaw was about to spit back a retort when Birchkit lost his balance chasing his tail and stumbled between the tabby warrior’s front paws. His eyes stretched wide as he noticed the two cats glaring at each other with bristling neck fur and twitching tails. “Sorry!” he squeaked and fled for the nursery.

Brambleclaw took a pace back, his lip curled. “Come on, we’re wasting time. We won’t reach WindClan before nightfall at this rate.”

Without waiting to see if the rest of the patrol was following him, he whipped round and stalked towards the entrance, his tail high.

Squirrelflight exchanged a glance with Ashfur and saw concern and gentleness in his blue eyes. After Brambleclaw’s hostility, it was like cool water on a hot day.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Squirrelflight insisted as she set off after Brambleclaw. She brushed past Rainwhisker, who was staring at her as if she’d sprouted rabbit ears. “Hurry up, or we’ll never catch him.”

Brambleclaw didn’t wait for them, but plunged into the thorn tunnel without looking back. As he vanished among the trembling branches, Squirrelflight felt hollow inside; it was almost as if Brambleclaw was deliberately walking out of her life. Would they ever be friends again? She couldn’t see how, after a fight like that.

She just had to accept that whatever they once had, the friendship that had lasted through their long journey, was over.

CHAPTER 2

It was the first time Squirrelflight had left the camp since the battle with Mudclaw, and she found herself enjoying the feel of wind in her fur and the crackle of leaves underpaw. Here and there she glimpsed early signs of newleaf: a few pale snowdrops scattered under a tree, and a single early coltsfoot flower like a splash of sunlight against a mossy green trunk. Squirrelflight reminded herself to tell her sister, Leafpool, where it could be found. Coltsfoot was a good remedy for shortness of breath.

Once they were well away from camp, Brambleclaw stopped. “Why don’t you two take the lead?” he suggested, nodding to Ashfur and Rainwhisker. “Let’s see how well you know the territory.”

“Sure,” Rainwhisker agreed enthusiastically, picking up the pace.

But Ashfur gave the tabby warrior a hard stare before sliding through the bracken after Rainwhisker. Squirrelflight knew why.

“What did you say that for?” she mewed crossly to Brambleclaw when they were alone. “You’re treating them as if they’re your apprentices. Ashfur’s older than you, don’t forget.”

“And I’m leading this patrol,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “If you don’t like my orders, you’d better go back.”

Squirrelflight opened her mouth for a stinging reply, then closed it again. She didn’t want to get dragged into yet another quarrel. Instead, she whisked past Brambleclaw and bounded around the edge of a clump of brambles, following the scent trail Rainwhisker and Ashfur had left.

Ashfur must have heard her brushing through the bracken; he waited for her to catch up and slowed his pace to pad next to her. “The buds on the trees are swelling,” he remarked, flicking his tail towards the branches of an oak. “Not long now till newleaf.”

“I can’t wait,” Squirrelflight mewed. “No more ice and snow, lots more prey.”

“The Clan could do with some extra fresh-kill,” Ashfur agreed. “Talking of fresh-kill, how about we hunt? Do you think Brambleclaw would mind?”

“I don’t give a mousetail whether Brambleclaw minds or not,” Squirrelflight hissed.

She opened her jaws to taste the air. At first she thought she caught a trace of badger, and wondered if she should mention it to Brambleclaw—badgers were trouble, especially if their territory overlapped with a Clan’s. But he was the last cat in the forest she wanted to speak to right now, and she guessed he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say anyway.

She tasted the air again; the scent of squirrel flooded over her, and when she spotted the bushy-tailed creature stooped busily over a nut a few fox-lengths ahead, she pushed the badger to the back of her mind. Checking the direction of the wind, she dropped into a hunter’s crouch and crept up on her prey. As she launched herself forward the squirrel leapt for a nearby tree trunk, but Squirrelflight sprang quickly. Her claws sank into its shoulder and she dispatched it with a swift bite to the neck.

A loud alarm call made her swing round to see a blackbird fluttering up from a clump of bracken while Ashfur watched it in frustration.

“Bad luck!” Squirrelflight called. “I probably startled it by going after the squirrel.”

Ashfur shook his head. “No, I stepped on a twig.”

“Never mind, you can come and share this.” Squirrelflight waved her tail invitingly. “There’s plenty.”

As Ashfur joined her beside the fresh-kill, Brambleclaw appeared from the undergrowth. “What are you doing?” he growled. “We’re on our way to see WindClan, or had you forgotten?”

Squirrelflight swallowed a mouthful of prey. “Come on, Brambleclaw—lighten up, for StarClan’s sake. None of us have eaten this morning.” Awkwardly, not sure how Brambleclaw would react if she tried to be friendly, she drew back from the squirrel. “You can have some if you want.”

“No thanks.” The tabby warrior’s voice was curt. “Where’s Rainwhisker?”

“He went on ahead,” meowed Ashfur, with a wave of his tail.

Without another word, Brambleclaw strode off in the direction the grey tom had indicated, shouldering through the long grass until his dark pelt was swallowed up by damp green fronds.

Squirrelflight let out a hiss of annoyance.

Ashfur flicked her ear lightly with the tip of his tail. “Don’t let him get to you so easily.”

“He doesn’t,” Squirrelflight muttered, trying to convince herself it was true. Once more she remembered how close she and Brambleclaw had been on their journeys, how they had relied on each other and come to need each other. How did we get from there to here? she wondered despairingly.

Glancing up at Ashfur, she saw that his eyes were dark with concern. She knew he wanted to be closer to her, more than just fellow warriors. It was tempting to tell him she felt the same way, but it was too soon for her to be sure her feelings were real. She needed to get over the quarrel with Brambleclaw first. And in the meantime we have a job to do, she reminded herself with a flash of impatience. You’re a warrior, not a moonstruck rabbit!

She and Ashfur finished the squirrel in a few swift bites and set out again towards the WindClan border. Soon they overtook Brambleclaw and Rainwhisker. Brambleclaw had brought down a starling and was tearing into it hungrily, while Rainwhisker was gulping down a vole. He glanced up as his Clanmates appeared.

“I thought you’d got lost,” he meowed.

Brambleclaw took his last mouthful of starling and rose to his paws. Without saying a word, he turned and stalked off. Squirrelflight exchanged a glance with Ashfur, shrugged, and followed.

The trees were thinning out when Squirrelflight began to hear the chattering of water over stones. The patrol emerged at the top of a slope that led down to the stream bordering WindClan. Gusts of WindClan scent drifted across on the breeze, but there was no sign of any cats.

“We must have just missed a patrol,” Ashfur meowed quietly. “Those scent marks are fresh.”

That was a good sign, Squirrelflight thought. If WindClan were organised enough to be patrolling their boundaries, they must be on their way to recovering from Mudclaw’s rebellion. Did that mean Onewhisker had been able to travel to the Moonpool to receive his nine lives and his leader’s name from StarClan?

“Let’s head for the stepping stones,” Brambleclaw suggested. “We might catch up to them.”

He bounded down the slope and headed upstream with the rest of the patrol hard on his paws. The trees soon gave way to open moorland; Squirrelflight turned her head to look at the grey sweep of leafless branches below her. Beyond them, the lake reflected the pale blue sky, where the sun had nearly reached its peak.

The stream tumbled more steeply here, between banks fringed by sedge and reeds. Water foamed around stepping stones that formed a path to the moorland on the other side, easy for a cat to leap, even when the stream was full.

Wind gusted into Squirrelflight’s face, buffeting her fur and making her eyes water. “I don’t know how WindClan puts up with it,” she grumbled to Ashfur. “There isn’t a tree in sight!”

Ashfur let out a small mrrow of amusement. “They probably wonder how ThunderClan puts up with all those branches blocking out the sky.”

“Ask me that when it rains,” Squirrelflight muttered.

A flash of pale brown caught her eye: a rabbit fleeing over the crest of the hill. Squirrelflight’s paws itched to dash after it, but it was well inside WindClan’s territory. Heartbeats later a lean, grey-black cat appeared, racing after the rabbit with his belly brushing the turf. Blinking to clear her watering eyes, Squirrelflight recognised Crowfeather. Like Brambleclaw, he had been one of the cats chosen by StarClan to make the journey to the sun-drown-place.

Hunter and prey disappeared into a hollow and a high-pitched squeal, quickly cut off, told Squirrelflight that the WindClan warrior had made his kill.

“Hunting patrol,” meowed Rainwhisker, nodding to the top of the hill.

Two more WindClan cats followed Crowfeather more slowly over the crest. Squirrelflight made out the dark grey tabby pelt of Webfoot; the smaller cat behind him was his apprentice, Weaselpaw. A third cat, Whitetail, joined them as they stood looking down at the ThunderClan patrol.

Brambleclaw called out, “We’ve brought a message from Firestar!”

Webfoot and Whitetail exchanged a glance, then Webfoot led the way down the slope until all three cats stood on the opposite side of the stream.

“What message?” Webfoot demanded.

Squirrelflight studied the WindClan warrior. He had been one of Mudclaw’s fiercest supporters, and he still showed marks of the battle in a torn ear and a patch of fur missing from one shoulder. But Onewhisker must have decided to trust him again, if he had been put in charge of this patrol.

Brambleclaw dipped his head in greeting. “Firestar sent us to make sure everything’s OK,” he mewed. “He asked us to check that Onewhisker had made his journey to the Moonpool.”

“Onestar,” Whitetail corrected him.

Squirrelflight’s belly lurched. Calling the Clan leader by his ordinary warrior name had been a really bad mistake, as if Brambleclaw didn’t expect him to have received his new name from StarClan.

“Sorry—Onestar.” Brambleclaw twitched one ear, but his voice remained steady. “That’s good news. Congratulate him for us, will you?”

Webfoot’s eyes narrowed. “Why did Firestar send you? Does he think StarClan wouldn’t give nine lives to Onestar?”

Squirrelflight’s eyes stretched wide. Had Webfoot forgotten that Onestar might have been crowfood by now if it wasn’t for Firestar and ThunderClan?

Brambleclaw blinked. “He just wanted to be sure.”

“Perhaps Firestar should concentrate on ThunderClan, and let WindClan get on with their own lives,” Webfoot suggested.

“Onestar wouldn’t be leader if it wasn’t for ThunderClan!” Squirrelflight pointed out hotly. “You know that as well as any cat, Webfoot. You and Mudclaw—” She broke off, choking on a mouthful of fur as Brambleclaw flicked his tail across her mouth.