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Brambleclaw stood at the top of the slope, gazing at the clawpricks of silver fire reflected in the lake below. The Clans had finally found their new home, just as Midnight had promised. StarClan was waiting for them, and they were safe from the Twoleg monsters at last.
Around him warriors from all four Clans murmured to each other, staring uneasily at the dark, unfamiliar space at the foot of the hill.
“It’s impossible to tell what’s down there in this light.” Brightheart, a ginger-and-white ThunderClan warrior, swung around so that her one good eye could take in the whole of the landscape.
Her mate, Cloudtail, twitched his tail. “How bad can it be? Think what we’ve come through to get here. We can fight off anything on four legs.”
“And what about Twolegs?” demanded Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy.
“The journey has left us all tired and weak,” Blackclaw of WindClan added. “Foxes and badgers could track us down easily when we’re all out in the open like this.”
For a moment Brambleclaw felt a tremor of fear. Then he braced his shoulders. StarClan would not have brought them here if they did not believe the Clans could survive in their new territories.
“What are we waiting for?” a new voice spoke up. “Are we going to stand here all night?”
Stifling a mrrow of laughter, Brambleclaw turned to see his Clanmate Squirrelpaw standing behind him. The ginger apprentice was tearing the tough, springy grass with her front paws, her green eyes glowing with anticipation.
“Brambleclaw, look!” she purred. “We did it! We found our new home!”
She tucked her hindlegs under her, ready to dash down the hill, but before she could take off, Firestar pushed through the cats and stood in her way.
“Wait.” The ThunderClan leader touched his daughter’s shoulder affectionately with the tip of his tail. “We’ll go together, and keep a sharp lookout for trouble. This may be the place that StarClan wished us to find, but they would not expect us to leave our wits in the forest.”
Squirrelpaw dipped her head respectfully and stepped back, but when she shot a sideways glance at Brambleclaw, he saw that her eyes still gleamed with excitement. For Squirrelpaw, their journey’s end could not possibly be scary.
Firestar padded over to join Blackstar and Leopardstar, the leaders of ShadowClan and RiverClan. “I suggest we send a patrol ahead,” he meowed. “Just a couple of cats, to find out what it’s like down there.”
“Good idea—but we can’t just stand here and wait for them to return,” Leopardstar objected. “It’s much too exposed.”
Blackstar grunted in agreement. “If a fox came along now, it could pick off the weaker cats with no trouble at all.”
“But we need to rest.” Mudclaw of WindClan came up to join the discussion. His leader, Tallstar, lay on the ground a little way off, with the medicine cat Barkface crouching over him. “Tallstar can’t go much further.”
“Then let’s send the patrol right away,” Firestar suggested, “and the rest of us will follow more slowly until we find somewhere more sheltered. Yes, Mudclaw,” he added, as the WindClan deputy opened his mouth to argue, “we’re all tired, but we’ll sleep more easily if we’re not stuck out on the open hillside like this.”
Blackstar called Russetfur over to him, while Leopardstar signalled with her tail for her deputy, Mistyfoot.
“I want you to go as far as the lake, then come straight back,” Leopardstar ordered. “Find out what you can, but be quick, and stay out of sight.”
The two cats flicked their ears, then whirled and raced away, loping along with their bellies close to the ground; within a couple of heartbeats they had vanished into the darkness.
Firestar watched them go before letting out a yowl to call the rest of the cats around him. Mudclaw went back to Tallstar and nudged the old leader to his paws. Their Clans clustered together behind the leaders of ThunderClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan and began to follow them down the slope towards the lake.
“What’s the matter?” Squirrelpaw demanded, noticing that Brambleclaw wasn’t moving. “Why are you standing there like a frozen rabbit?”
“I want . . .” Brambleclaw glanced around and spotted his sister Tawnypelt padding past a little way off; he summoned her with a jerk of his head. “I want all of us to go down together,” he explained when the tortoiseshell she-cat joined them. “All the cats who made the first journey.”
Four cats remained from the six who had left the forest in search of a new home many moons ago. They had gained something very precious on that journey, as well as a safe place for their Clans to live: a strong bond of friendship had been forged between them, stronger than rock and deeper than the endless water that washed against the cliffs where Midnight the badger lived.
Now Brambleclaw wanted to travel with his friends one more time before their duties to their separate Clans forced them apart.
Tawnypelt let out a purr of approval. Meeting her green gaze, Brambleclaw knew that, like him, she understood they would soon be rivals again; that the next time they met could be in battle. The pain of parting swelled in his heart, and he pressed his muzzle to his sister’s, feeling her breath warm against his whiskers.
“Where’s Crowfeather?” she asked.
Brambleclaw looked up and spotted the young WindClan warrior a few tail-lengths away, anxiously pacing beside Tallstar. The WindClan leader looked so exhausted he could hardly put one paw in front of the other; his long tail dragged on the ground and he was leaning heavily on the brown tabby warrior Onewhisker. The WindClan medicine cat, Barkface, walked close behind, a worried look on his face.
“Hey, Crowfeather!” Squirrelpaw called.
The WindClan cat bounded across. “What do you want?”
Brambleclaw ignored his unwelcoming tone. Crowfeather’s tongue was sharp enough to slice your ears off, but if danger threatened he would fight to his last breath to defend his friends.
“Travel down to the lake with us,” he urged. “I want us to finish the journey how we started—together.”
Crowfeather bowed his head. “There’s no point,” he murmured. “We’ll never be together again. Stormfur lives in the mountains now, and Feathertail is dead.”
Brambleclaw ran his tail lightly over the young warrior’s shoulder. He shared his grief for the beautiful RiverClan cat who had sacrificed her life to save Crowfeather and the Tribe cats from the terrible lion-cat known as Sharptooth. Then Feathertail’s brother Stormfur had stayed with the Tribe of Rushing Water because of his love for the prey-hunter Brook. Brambleclaw missed him bitterly, but knew that pain was nothing compared to the agony Crowfeather felt over Feathertail’s death.
“Feathertail is with us now,” Squirrelpaw insisted, coming to join them. Her eyes shone with the strength of her belief. “If you don’t know that, Crowfeather, you’re even more mousebrained than I thought. And we’ll see Stormfur again, I’m sure. We’re closer to the mountains here than we were in the forest.”
Crowfeather let out a long sigh. “OK,” he meowed. “Let’s go.”
Most of the cats had gone past them already, moving cautiously across the unfamiliar territory, keeping close to each other as they had done throughout the long and dangerous journey to get here. A little way ahead, Brambleclaw saw Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, walking beside a group of apprentices from all four Clans. On the far side of a patch of gorse, the ground fell away into a grassy hollow. Tallpoppy, a ShadowClan queen, was struggling to guide her kits down the steep slope; Cloudtail and Brightheart from ThunderClan darted over to help, each picking up a kit in their jaws. Further down the slope, Cedarheart, a grey ShadowClan tom, prowled along the edge of a thorn thicket, his gaze flicking back and forth as he kept watch for foxes and badgers that might be looking for easy prey.
If he had not known these cats all his life, Brambleclaw would not have been able to distinguish one Clan from another; they walked side by side, helping one another. He wondered grimly how long it would be before they were divided again, and how painful that separation would be.
At an impatient exclamation from Squirrelpaw—“Come on, Brambleclaw, or we’ll leave you to make a den for yourself here!”—he headed down the slope, pausing every so often to draw in the night air. The scent of cat was strongest, but beneath it he could detect the scents of mouse and vole and rabbit. 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 nudged the pale tabby tom’s shoulder. “Come on, Longtail,” he meowed. “Not far now.”
As Squirrelpaw bounded over to help, Brambleclaw spotted a sheltered place where the ground fell away a couple of tail-lengths beyond the clump of trees; grass grew thickly there, and a few bushes with low-growing branches.
“What about making a den over there?” he suggested, pointing with his tail.
“Good idea,” meowed Dustpelt. He nosed Longtail again. “It’s all right, Longtail; you can sleep as long as you want once we get you to a more sheltered place.”
Longtail heaved himself to his paws; Squirrelpaw padded beside him with her tail curled around his neck to guide him. Brambleclaw let Goldenflower lean on his shoulder, while Ferncloud encouraged Birchkit to follow.
“This had better be the place we’re looking for,” Dustpelt remarked, looking around at the exhausted cats. “None of us have the strength to travel any further.”
Brambleclaw didn’t reply. He knew Dustpelt was right—but he couldn’t tell him for sure that this was the place StarClan had meant them to find. He watched the others slide between the branches and settle into the piles of dry leaves under the bushes. Catching a glimpse of Leafpaw padding past with a mouthful of moss for bedding, he recalled the medicine cat apprentice’s unquestioning faith that their warrior ancestors had made the journey with them. He wished he could feel the same certainty. All along he had clung to the belief that their troubles would be over when they reached their new territory. Now, daunted by the strangeness of everything around him, he could see they were only just beginning.
Squirrelpaw’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Dustpelt, do you want us to hunt for you?”
Her mentor flicked her ear with his tail. “No, we’ll all hunt later. Look at you; you’re asleep on your paws. Go with Brambleclaw and get some rest.”
“OK.” Squirrelpaw’s jaws split into an enormous yawn.
“What about under that gorse bush?” Brambleclaw led the way to the spot he had pointed out a few tail-lengths up the slope, and crawled under the lowest boughs.
Squirrelpaw followed him and curled into a tight ball with her tail over her nose. “Good night,” she murmured indistinctly.
Brambleclaw scrabbled in the debris underneath the bush until he had made a comfortable nest. Curling up close to Squirrelpaw, he breathed in her warm, familiar scent. He was glad that they had not made a proper camp yet, where warriors and apprentices would have their separate dens. He would miss sleeping next to Squirrelpaw, he realised with the last flicker of conscious thought. Then sleep covered him like the lapping of a soft black wave.
Brambleclaw’s dreams were dark and confused. He was searching for something in the middle of a thick forest, but he could not remember what he was looking for, and every path he took ended abruptly in tangles of briar or impassable walls of thorn. In desperation, he tried to force his way through, but a branch poked him painfully in the side.
“Wake up, Brambleclaw! You’ve been asleep forever—what do you think you are, a hedgehog?”
Brambleclaw’s eyes flew open to see Squirrelpaw prodding him with her forepaw. Watery yellow daylight was seeping through the branches of the gorse bush.
“It’s morning,” Squirrelpaw went on. “Let’s go and see if we can hunt. If you can stop hibernating, that is.”
Blinking sleep from his eyes, Brambleclaw staggered to his paws, shook scraps of dead leaves from his pelt, and followed Squirrelpaw into the open.
The confusion of his dream slipped away when he remembered where he was. But it was replaced with a renewed feeling of anxiety as he looked at the landscape in daylight for the first time. He wondered if this vast, unfamiliar place would ever seem like home.
A cold breeze blew, ridging the surface of the lake and rattling through the reeds that edged the shore. The shining grey water stretched in front of Brambleclaw for almost as far as he could see; above the hills that rose on one side, a glow in the sky showed where the sun would shortly rise. Back the way they had come, the land sloped up more gently to bare moorland. The Twoleg fence stretched across it, and in the growing light Brambleclaw could just make out a couple of Twoleg nests in the distance. He let out a faint sound of approval; such small nests couldn’t hold many Twolegs, and being so far away they were unlikely to interfere with the Clans.
Further around the lake, below the hills, was a smudge that looked like grey-green mist; Brambleclaw realised it was a mass of leafless branches, stretching along the shore and up to the crest of the ridge. His heart lifted to think that soon he could be underneath trees again, however strange they might be.
At the far end of the lake the grey smudge of trees darkened, and Brambleclaw guessed that they were pines, still green in the depths of leaf-bare. They covered the ground like a gently rippling pelt as the wind stirred them.
The glow on the horizon grew too bright to look at as the sun edged up; the last stars were fading, and the sky was a clear, pale blue.
