LITMIR.BIZ

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He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten; surely the leaders would allow them to hunt soon?

      He was imagining the delicious taste of fresh-kill when he was startled by a hiss from Tawnypelt, who was a couple of tail-lengths ahead of him. “Look at that,” spat the Shadow Clan warrior, pointing with her tail.

      Brambleclaw’s ears pricked when he saw the thin mesh of a Twoleg fence shining like a huge cobweb in the pale dawn light. Two or three of the other cats had paused to stare apprehensively at it as well.

      “I knew we’d come across Twolegs sooner or later!” Squirrelpaw meowed with a disgusted twitch of her tail.

      Brambleclaw tasted the air again. He could pick up the scent of Twolegs, but it was faint and stale. There was another, less familiar scent too, and he had to think hard before he remembered what it was.

      “Horses.” Crowfeather confirmed his guess. “There’s one over there.”

      He gestured with his tail, and Brambleclaw noticed a large, dark shape standing under a clump of trees some way inside the fence. He thought there was another one beside it, though it was hard to tell in the shadows cast by the branches.

      “What are horses?” Whitepaw mewed worriedly as she peered through the fence.

      “Nothing to worry about,” Tornear from WindClan reassured her, touching the apprentice’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “They used to run across our territory sometimes, with Twolegs on their backs.”

      Whitetail blinked as if she couldn’t quite believe him.

      “We saw some of them on our journey to the sun-drown-water,” Brambleclaw added. “They didn’t take any notice of us when we crossed their field. It’s the Twolegs looking after them that we need to watch out for.”

      “I can’t see any Twoleg nests,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “Maybe these horse things look after themselves.”

      “Let’s hope so,” meowed Brambleclaw. “Horses alone shouldn’t bother us.”

      “Provided we stay away from their clumsy feet,” added Squirrelpaw.

      The cats followed the Twoleg fence until they came to a thicket of trees where the other cats were gathering. Glancing around, Brambleclaw spotted Cinderpelt, the ThunderClan medicine cat, and her apprentice, Leafpaw, Squirrelpaw’s sister.

      “What’s going on?” Squirrelpaw demanded. “Why are we stopping?”

      “The patrol the leaders sent has just come back,” Cinderpelt explained.

      Following her gaze, Brambleclaw saw the leaders of the four Clans and the WindClan deputy, Mudclaw, standing close together beside a tree stump. Mistyfoot and Russetfur, who had been sent on the patrol, faced them. The other cats had sunk down on the short, springy grass around the tree stump, glad of the chance to rest.

      With the others behind him, Brambleclaw weaved through the cats until he was close enough to hear what the Clan leaders were saying.

      Mistyfoot was just giving her report: “The ground’s very boggy by the lake. There’s no point going any further until daylight. We don’t want to lose any cats in the mud.”

      “ShadowClan is used to wet ground underpaw,” Blackstar reminded her, before any of the other leaders could comment. “But we’ll stay with the rest of you if that’s what you want.” There was an edge to his tone, as if ShadowClan were granting them a huge favour by not going ahead to explore on their own.

      Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. It seemed too soon for the Clans to begin competing with one another over who claimed which part of the new territory. He had grown used to having all four Clans around him, ignoring the differences that had kept them apart for more seasons than any cat could remember. He was also afraid that some cats were weaker and more exhausted than others, which might make any clashes more damaging than they needed to be.

      He hoped the leaders would decide to stay where they were for the rest of the night. The hills were still close enough to cut down the force of the wind, and the trees provided even more welcome shelter. A strong scent of prey drifted from the shadows, and his paws itched to hunt.

      “I think we should stay here,” Firestar meowed, to Brambleclaw’s relief. “We all need to rest, and it sounds pretty uncomfortable by the lake.”

      Leopardstar murmured agreement. Before Firestar had finished speaking, Tallstar collapsed onto his side and lay there panting, as if he couldn’t manage a single pawstep more. Mudclaw stalked up to him, sniffed him briefly, and spoke a word or two in his ear.

      “Tallstar looks exhausted,” Brambleclaw murmured to Crowfeather. “This is his last life, isn’t it?”

      Crowfeather nodded, his face somber. “He’ll be fine now that we’re here,” he meowed, though Brambleclaw suspected that he was trying to convince himself as much as any other cat.

      Blackstar leaped up to the top of the tree stump. The powerful white tom stood with tail held high, his huge black paws planted on the rough wood. He let out a commanding yowl, and the faces of all the cats turned towards him to listen.

      “Cats of all Clans!” he called as the last stragglers came up. “We have reached the place StarClan meant us to find, but we are all tired and hungry. We will make camp here until we have rested.”

      “Who asked him to speak for the leaders?” Squirrelpaw muttered. Her green eyes flashed indignantly as Brambleclaw, spotting a couple of ShadowClan warriors within earshot, silenced her with a flick of his tail across her mouth.

      “What about fresh-kill?” a cat called from the back.

      “We will wait until sunrise,” Blackstar replied. “Then the prey will be running and there’ll be enough for us all.”

      “Meanwhile we ought to keep watch,” Firestar added, leaping up beside Blackstar so that the ShadowClan leader had to step back a pace. “Deputies, find two or three warriors who can stay awake for a while longer. We don’t want foxes sneaking up on us while we’re asleep.”

      Mudclaw, who seemed to be speaking for WindClan since Tallstar was so weak, meowed his agreement, followed by the RiverClan leader, Leopardstar. The brief meeting broke up and the cats began looking for places to sleep. Barkface nudged Tallstar to his feet and helped him to a clump of long grass, where the frail WindClan leader lay down again, trembling from nose to tail. Onewhisker sat close to him and began to lick his fur gently.

      “I guess I’ll be needed,” Crowfeather mewed, and he loped away to join the other WindClan cats.

      Tawnypelt touched noses with her brother. “I’d better check in with Russetfur,” she meowed. “See you later, Brambleclaw.” Whisking around, she headed for a group of her Clanmates who were clustered around the ShadowClan deputy.

      Brambleclaw wondered if he ought to volunteer to keep watch. Even though he had been a warrior for fewer than four seasons, ThunderClan needed every cat to help feed and protect their Clanmates—especially since they had lost their deputy just before leaving the forest. Shivering, Brambleclaw remembered how Greystripe had been trapped by Twolegs and carried away inside a Twoleg monster. He glanced at Firestar to see his leader giving orders to Sorreltail and Brackenfur. He guessed he wouldn’t be needed right away, so he looked around to see if any of the other ThunderClan cats could use his help.

      Dustpelt stood in the shadows beneath the trees with his mate, Ferncloud, and their son Birchkit, the only one of their latest litter to survive the lack of prey back in the forest. Ferncloud was crouched over Longtail, nosing him anxiously as he lay in the grass. Longtail was not many seasons older than Dustpelt, but he had been forced to join the elders when his eyesight failed; the journey from the forest had been particularly hard for him. Goldenflower, Brambleclaw’s mother, lay close to his flank on the other side. She was the oldest ThunderClan queen, and Brambleclaw realised with a pang of sympathy that she looked too weary to do anything more than press her warm fur against Longtail.

      Dustpelt

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