Moonrise Page 3

  “This isn’t another of his dreams, is it?” Dustpelt’s question was too low for Firestar to hear, though Leafpaw caught the muttered words. “A tough bit of fresh-kill too late at night?”

  “Shut up and listen.” Cloudtail, Firestar’s kin, glared at Dustpelt.

  “I saw it too,” Greystripe confirmed from his place at the foot of the rock.

  Dead silence followed his words. Leafpaw watched the cats glance at one another with uncertainty and fear in their eyes. Sorreltail turned to Leafpaw. “Is that really what you saw?”

  Leafpaw nodded. “You can’t imagine what it was like.”

  “What does Cinderpelt have to say?” Speckletail called from where she sat among the elders. “Has StarClan shown you anything?”

  The medicine cat rose to her paws and faced the Clan, her blue eyes steady. Of all the cats, even Firestar, she seemed the calmest.

  Before she replied, she looked up to meet Firestar’s gaze; Leafpaw could almost see flashing between them the memory of the prophecy of fire and tiger that Cinderpelt had seen in a clump of blazing bracken. She wondered how much they had decided to tell the Clan, in the meeting that had just ended. Then Firestar nodded as if he was giving Cinderpelt permission to speak; she acknowledged his signal with a brief dip of her head.

  “The signs from StarClan are not clear,” she admitted. “I see a time of great danger and change for the forest. A terrible doom hangs over us all.”

  “Then you have had warnings about this! Why haven’t you told us before?” Mousefur challenged with a lash of her tail.

  “Don’t be mouse-brained!” Cloudtail growled. “What good would it have done? What could we do? Leave the forest—and go where? Wandering around in strange country with leaf-bare coming on? You might fancy that, Mousefur, but I don’t.”

  “If you ask me, Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw had the right idea,” Sootfur muttered to his brother Rainwhisker. “Getting out when they did.”

  Leafpaw wanted to leap to the missing cats’ defense, but she made herself sit still and keep quiet. She was the only cat in the Clan who knew that Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw had left on a mission from StarClan to try to save the forest from this terrible danger. Stormfur and Feathertail, Greystripe’s RiverClan children, had gone with them, and cats from WindClan and ShadowClan too. However much their Clanmates missed them, Leafpaw knew it was for the good of all the Clans that they had gone.

  Yet the danger was here now, she thought, apprehension gripping her belly, and the missing cats had not returned. Did that mean they had failed? Did it mean StarClan had failed, in spite of the warnings they had sent?

  Cinderpelt’s calm gaze rested on the hushed and waiting Clan. “There will be great danger,” she repeated. “But I do not believe that ThunderClan will be destroyed.”

  The Clan cats looked at one another, bewildered and afraid. The silence seemed to stretch out for a thousand heartbeats, until it was broken by a single eerie wail rising from the group of elders. As if that were a signal, more yowls and cries of terror broke out. Faced with the terror of approaching monsters, few of the Clan could believe Cinderpelt’s reassurances.

  Ferncloud swept her tail protectively around her three kits, drawing them into the shelter of her flecked grey fur. “What are we going to do?” she cried.

  Dustpelt got up and pressed his nose comfortingly into her side. “We’ll do something,” he promised. “We’ll show the Twolegs this is our place.”

  “And how do you propose doing that?” Mousefur asked, her voice harsh. “When have Twolegs ever cared about us? They do what they want.”

  “Their monsters will frighten all the prey,” Ashfur added. “We already know the forest is emptier than it’s ever been, and leaf-bare is coming. What are we going to eat?”

  More terrified caterwauling broke out, and several heartbeats went by before Firestar could make himself heard again.

  “We can’t decide what to do until we know more,” he meowed, when the noise had died to apprehensive muttering. “What happened yesterday was near Snakerocks, well away from here. It’s possible that the Twolegs won’t come any further.”

  “Then why would StarClan send any warnings at all?” Thornclaw asked. “We’ve got to face it, Firestar—we can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

  “I’ll arrange extra patrols,” Firestar assured him, “and I’m going to try speaking to ShadowClan. This was near their border, and they may have had trouble too.”

  “You can’t believe anything ShadowClan tells you,” Cloudtail growled. “They wouldn’t give you a mousetail if you were starving.”

  “Maybe not,” Firestar replied. “But if the Twolegs have invaded their territory, they might be prepared to talk if it meant we could help one another.”

  “And hedgehogs might fly,” Cloudtail grunted. He turned away from Firestar and muttered something into the ear of his mate, Brightheart, who pushed her nose into his fur as if she were reassuring him.

  “Everyone must keep alert,” Firestar continued. “If you see anything unusual, I want to know. We survived the flood and the fire. We survived Tigerstar’s dog pack, and the threat from Scourge and BloodClan. We will survive this too.”

  He leaped down from the rock to show that the meeting was at an end.

  Immediately the cats in the clearing broke into anxious little knots, discussing what they had just heard. Firestar and Cinderpelt spoke briefly together, and then Cinderpelt padded over to Leafpaw.

  “Firestar is going to see ShadowClan right away,” the medicine cat announced. “He wants you to come too.”

  Mingled excitement and apprehension clawed at Leafpaw. “Why me?”

  “He wants both medicine cats with him. He thinks that if we’re there Blackstar will realise that ThunderClan isn’t looking for a fight.” Cinderpelt’s blue eyes flashed. “All the same, Leafpaw, I hope you’ve practiced your fighting moves recently.”

  Leafpaw swallowed. “Yes, Cinderpelt.”

  “Good.” With a wave of her tail, she led the way to where Firestar was waiting at the entrance to the gorse tunnel. Greystripe and Brackenfur were with him.

  “Let’s go,” meowed Firestar. “And remember, I don’t want any trouble. We’re only going to talk.”

  Greystripe snorted. “Try telling that to ShadowClan. If a patrol catches us on their territory, they’ll claw us as soon as they see us.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Firestar replied with feeling. “If the Twolegs are threatening both our Clans, we can’t afford to waste our strength in fighting one another.”

  Greystripe still looked doubtful, but he said nothing more as Firestar led them up the ravine towards the ShadowClan border. Leafpaw kept her ears pricked for any unusual sounds, and every hair on her pelt stood on end. The forest that had been safe for as long as she could remember was suddenly a frightening place, invaded by the Twolegs and their monsters.

  Firestar led his patrol directly towards Snakerocks, and soon Leafpaw realised that he was heading for the spot where the monster had left the Thunderpath. Before they came in sight of it she picked up the reek of the monster and the rich earthy smell of the torn ground. When she came to the top of the slope above the Thunderpath, she stopped and peered through a clump of bracken.

  Just below her, a swath of churned-up grass stretched as far as the Thunderpath. Trees lay on the ground, their roots tangling in the air. Everything was silent; Leafpaw couldn’t hear a single bird, or the scuffling of prey in the grass. But the monster had gone, and when she opened her jaws to drink in the air, the scent of Twolegs was stale. Even the reek of the monster was beginning to fade.

  “They haven’t been here today,” Greystripe meowed. “Perhaps they’ve finished whatever they were doing.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Firestar replied tersely.

  “This is . . . terrible.” Brackenfur sounded stunned. He had not been on the original patrol. “Why are they destroying the forest, Firestar?”

  The t
ip of Firestar’s tail twitched back and forth. “Why do Twolegs do anything? If we knew that, our lives would be a lot easier.”

  Skirting the edge of the damaged area, he led the way along the Thunderpath. Leafpaw’s belly lurched as she saw that more trees had been felled in ShadowClan’s territory, and more ground had been churned up.

  Every one of the ThunderClan cats stopped to stare across the hard black surface. Brackenfur dropped into a crouch as if he were about to spring into attack, but there was no enemy to fight.

  “Look at that!” Greystripe’s voice shook with horror. “You were right, Firestar. ShadowClan is having exactly the same trouble.”

  “Then that should make it easier to talk to Blackstar.” Firestar was trying to sound confident, but his ears were laid flat against his head.

  Cinderpelt gave the scarred area a long look before turning away, shaking her head. Though she said nothing, her blue eyes were filled with dread and confusion.

  A monster roared by on the Thunderpath, smaller than the tree-eating monsters but still deafeningly noisy. Leafpaw flinched, half expecting it to veer into the forest where they were standing. But it stayed on the Thunderpath and growled away until it vanished among the trees. Another monster followed it; then a third raced along in the opposite direction.

  “I don’t want to cross here,” Greystripe muttered, blinking grit out of his eyes.

  Firestar nodded. “We’ll cross the stream by Fourtrees and go through the tunnel,” he decided. “And just hope we don’t meet any ShadowClan warriors on this side of the Thunderpath.”

  When they reached the stream, Firestar crossed in a couple of bounds by a stepping-stone in the middle. Leafpaw kept an eye on her mentor, making sure that Cinderpelt crossed safely in spite of the old injury to her leg from a Thunderpath accident seasons before. Then she followed her across as Firestar climbed the opposite bank.

  A light breeze was blowing towards them, carrying the rank scent of ShadowClan. At the border, Firestar and Greystripe renewed the scent markings, before Firestar led the way towards the tunnel under the Thunderpath.

  To Leafpaw’s relief, there was no sign of ShadowClan cats in this section of their territory. The elders had told her many stories about that Clan’s dark-hearted history, from the murderer Brokenstar, who had killed his own father, to treacherous Tigerstar, who had made himself ShadowClan leader when he was exiled from ThunderClan. The present leader, Blackstar, hadn’t caused any trouble so far, but Leaf paw knew that Firestar didn’t really trust him. As she followed him into the tunnel, she admired him even more for his courage in trying to make allies of his old enemies for the sake of the forest.

  Leafpaw shivered as she plunged into the gloomy silence beneath the Thunderpath, broken only by the drip of water and the plashing of their paws in the mud that covered the bottom of the tunnel. On the ShadowClan side the harsh scent was stronger than ever. The ground under Leafpaw’s paws was dank and marshy, covered with coarse scrubby grass. Here and there were pools fringed with reeds; there were few tall trees, unlike those that sheltered the ThunderClan camp. It felt like another world.

  “The ShadowClan camp is this way,” Firestar meowed, heading for a clump of bushes. “Leafpaw, Cinderpelt, keep close to me. Greystripe and Brackenfur, spread out and keep watch. And remember that we’re not looking for trouble.”

  Leafpaw padded behind Firestar as they headed deeper into ShadowClan territory. She hated the way her paws sank into mud at every step. She kept wanting to stop to flick away the moisture. It was hard to imagine ShadowClan cats putting up with it every day of their lives. Surely they would have grown webbed paws by now? Her muscles began to ache from the strain of keeping alert; when Brackenfur called out she jumped nervously and then hoped that no cat had noticed.

  “Firestar, come and look at this.” Brackenfur pointed with his tail to a thin piece of wood, too smooth and regular to be the branch of a tree, standing upright in the ground about the height of a cat. Firestar padded over to and sniffed at it suspiciously. “It reeks of Twolegs,” he reported.

  “There’s another over there,” Leafpaw called, spotting a matching stick a few fox-lengths further away. “And another—all in a line! What are they—”

  Her voice died away. As she bounded towards the next piece of wood, the bushes in front of her rustled and three cats stepped out into the open. She quickly recognised Russetfur, the dark ginger she-cat who was ShadowClan’s deputy; the other warriors, a dark grey tom and a lean tabby with a torn ear, were strangers to her.

  Leafpaw swallowed nervously.

  Firestar was already bounding up to her. “Greetings, Russetfur,” he meowed.

  “You’re trespassing on our territory,” snarled the Shadow -Clan deputy.

  With a flick of her tail she summoned her warriors forwards. Leafpaw barely had time to dodge, as the dark grey tom sprang at her; she felt claws rake down her side as she rolled away and scrambled to her paws, trying to remember her fighting moves. She caught a glimpse of Cinderpelt and Russetfur stalking around each other; a tail-length away, Greystripe had the tabby pinned down, while Brackenfur and the other tom writhed together in a screeching bundle of grey and ginger fur.

  For a moment she could not see Firestar. Glancing around wildly, she saw that he had leaped on to one of the fallen tree trunks. His voice rose in a yowl above the hissing and spitting.

  “Stop!”

  CHAPTER 3

  “You lot stay here,” Purdy ordered in an undertone. “Let me deal with this.”

  Stormfur stared in dismay as the old tom shuffled forwards towards the foxes, his rumpled fur on end, his tail lashing back and forth. Frozen by shock, the others might have let Purdy attack and be torn to pieces if Stormfur had not stepped forwards at the last moment and pushed him aside.

  “Wha’?” Purdy protested. “Let me get at ’em. I’ve chased off more foxes than you’ve had mice, young fellow.”

  “Then give the rest of us a chance,” Stormfur retorted grimly.

  The two foxes were creeping slowly up the bank, their eyes flicking from one cat to the next. Too late Stormfur realised that he and his friends had been wrong to assume the woods held no danger for them.

  He saw that Crowpaw had stepped forwards to shield Feathertail, while Brambleclaw tried to do the same for Squirrelpaw. But the ThunderClan apprentice slipped out from the shelter of his flank and stood beside him with her ears flattened and one paw extended threateningly.

  “What are you doing, treading on my tail?” she growled. “I can take care of myself!”

  “You did say you could eat a fox,” Tawnypelt pointed out wryly. “Now’s your chance.”

  The foxes crept nearer. Stormfur braced himself, his gaze fixed on their narrow snouts and coldly glittering eyes, trying to guess where they would attack first. Back home, foxes weren’t much of a threat to cats who kept alert. They could be avoided, but these were obviously young and spoiling for a fight, eager to defend their territory. Stormfur was sure that the six of them could drive the creatures off eventually, but not without serious injuries. And what would that mean for their journey? StarClan help us! he prayed desperately.

  Crowpaw, who was nearest to the foxes, crouched to spring. There was barely a tail-length between him and the first of them when Stormfur heard a strange sound behind him, half growling and half barking. The leading fox abruptly lifted its head and stood very still.

  Stormfur flicked a glance over his shoulder. Midnight had lumbered forwards, thrusting her way between Purdy and Feathertail until she stood in front of the foxes. She said something else in the same mixture of barks and growls. Although Stormfur could not understand what she was saying, there was no mistaking the threat in the way her shoulders hunched, or the hostility in her black eyes.

  Then his ears pricked in shock as the first fox barked what was obviously a reply. “I’d forgotten Midnight told us she could speak fox,” he muttered, glancing at Brambleclaw. The ThunderClan warrior nodded with
out taking his eyes off the foxes.

  “They say this is their place,” Midnight reported. “To come here is to be their prey.”

  “Fox dung to that!” Crowpaw burst out. “Tell them if they try anything, we’ll rip their fur off.”

  Midnight shook her head. “No, small warrior. Cat fur be ripped also. Wait.”

  Crowpaw backed off a pace or two, still looking furious, and Feathertail pressed her nose against his flank.

  Midnight said something else to the foxes. “I tell them you only pass through,” she explained to the cats when she had finished. “I tell them much prey is here in woods, easier prey that does not rip fur.”

  The leading fox was looking confused now, perhaps out of surprise at hearing a badger speak fox, perhaps because it was taking her arguments seriously. But the second—a lean dog fox with a scarred muzzle—was still glaring past Midnight at the group of cats, his teeth bared. He snarled out something that was a threat in any language.

  Midnight barked a single word. Taking a step forwards, she raised a paw, her massive body poised to strike. Every hair on Stormfur’s pelt prickled as he braced himself for a fight. Then the dog fox started to back away, growling a last curse at Midnight before turning and vanishing into the bracken. Midnight’s gaze swivelled to his companion, but the other fox paused only to bark out something rapidly before following.

  “And don’t come back, if you know what’s good for you!” Crowpaw yowled after them.

  Stormfur relaxed, feeling his fur lie flat again. Squirrelpaw flopped down on the ground with a noisy sigh. All the cats, even Purdy, were looking at the badger with new respect.

  Brambleclaw padded over to her and dipped his head. “Thanks, Midnight,” he meowed. “That could have been nasty.”

  “They might have killed us,” Feathertail added.

  “I suppose it’s a bad time for a fight,” Crowpaw admitted. Stormfur sighed at the aggressive note in the apprentice’s voice as he went on, “All the same, I’d like to know why you didn’t warn us about the foxes. You said you can read everything in the stars, so why didn’t you tell us they’d be here?”