Erin Hunter - Sunset

She peered into the shadow, desperate to see Cinderpelt.

In spite of what Spottedleaf had said to her, Leafpool was still afraid that her former mentor blamed her for abandoning her Clan.

“Please, Cinderpelt…” she whispered. Turning to Bluestar, she asked, “Bluestar, where—?”

But the warriors of StarClan were already fading, the shim-mer of their pelts growing dim until Leafpool could see the sides of the hollow through them. For a heartbeat they shone like a thin layer of ice on the rocks; then they were gone, and Leafpool was blinking awake on the edge of the pool.

She rose, stretching to ease her cold, cramped limbs.

Beside her, Littlecloud sat up and started to wash his face with one paw, while Barkface gave his rumpled fur a quick grooming. Neither of them spoke of what they had seen in their dreams.

“When I was out yesterday, I found a good clump of watermint, just above the stepping-stones,” Barkface told Leafpool as they climbed the path out of the hollow. “You might want to collect some—there’s plenty for both of us.”

“Thanks,” mewed Leafpool. “It’s the best herb there is for bellyache.”

“I spotted that ginger-and-white cat collecting marigold the other day,” Barkface went on, leading the way down the slope. “Brightheart, is it? She looked busy—too busy to notice me.”

“Yes, she’s been a huge help,” Leafpool admitted. “We’ve needed a lot of marigold to treat wounds after the badger attack.”

Littlecloud nodded. “Thank StarClan we haven’t seen the badgers in ShadowClan territory,” he mewed. “Is ThunderClan recovering? Do you need any help?”

Briefly Leafpool wondered what Blackstar, the ShadowClan leader, would have to say about Littlecloud’s offer of help to a rival Clan. It was just as well she could refuse with a clear conscience. “No, thanks, we’re fine,” she replied. “Our wounds are healing.”

Dawn was not yet streaking the sky above the hills, and Leafpool realized she had a chance to take Mudfur’s message to Mothwing. But if she was late returning to the hollow, what message would that send to her Clanmates? She had left them once before; they needed to see that now she was completely dedicated to them. Besides, the sooner she returned to check on Berrykit, the better.

Not only that, but to get to RiverClan she would have to travel through WindClan territory, and the risk of running into Crowfeather was too great.

Following the stream down into ThunderClan territory, she refused to even look sideways at WindClan’s moorland.

That part of her life was over, never to be revisited. She was a medicine cat, with the power to walk among StarClan.

There was a good reason why she could never be close to any other cat—she walked a different path and always would. If she could just concentrate hard enough on her duties, her feelings would die away, and Crowfeather would mean nothing more to her than any other warrior.

As Brambleclaw walked away from the fresh-kill pile, he spotted Ashfur limping away from Leafpool’s den. Fresh cobwebs were plastered on the gash in his foreleg. He was heading for the warriors’ den, but before he reached it Birchpaw came bounding over to him.

“Hi, Ashfur!” he meowed. “Brackenfur is taking Whitepaw for a training session. Can we go with them?”

“No.” His mentor’s voice was an ill-tempered growl. “I fell off a rock and opened this wound again. Leafpool says I can’t leave the camp today.”

Birchpaw’s tail drooped; he turned his head to watch mournfully as Brackenfur and his apprentice, Whitepaw, left through the thorn tunnel.

Brambleclaw strolled over to Ashfur and Birchpaw and flicked the disappointed apprentice with his tail. “Cheer up.”

To Ashfur he added, “I’m just leaving on patrol. I could take Birchpaw with me, if you like.”

Birchpaw’s tail shot straight up in the air again and his whiskers quivered with excitement. “Please, Ashfur!” he begged.

Ashfur opened his mouth; Brambleclaw was convinced he was about to refuse. Then a new voice spoke from behind Brambleclaw. “Good idea. Birchpaw missed a lot of training while he was hurt. He shouldn’t miss any more.”

Brambleclaw turned to see his Clan leader leaping down the rocks from the Highledge. “I thought we’d go up by the ShadowClan border,” he meowed. “We’ll renew the scent markers and check for fox traps.”

Firestar nodded, though Ashfur was staring at Brambleclaw through narrowed eyes. Without saying anything the gray warrior turned away and stalked off to the warriors’ den.

“Off you go, then,” Firestar meowed to Birchpaw. “Do as Brambleclaw tells you and watch out for those traps. You don’t want to lose your tail, like Berrykit.”

“I’ll be careful,” Birchpaw promised.

Brambleclaw stuck his head through the branches of the warriors’ den and called Sandstorm and Thornclaw to join the patrol. Ashfur, settling himself among the mossy bedding, ignored him.

The day was overcast, with a damp breeze that promised rain later. Prey-scent was muted, as if all the prey were hiding in their holes, and there was little sound except for the rustle of branches overhead.

Birchpaw was still trembling with excitement; Brambleclaw could see that he was struggling to control himself and pad along quietly beside the rest of the patrol.

“Why don’t you run ahead and see if you can spot the ShadowClan scent markers?” he suggested. “Come back and tell us when you find them.”

“Okay, Brambleclaw!” Birchpaw’s eyes gleamed, and he bounded off with his tail straight up.

Brambleclaw suppressed a pang of anxiety at the sight of his fuzzy haunches, where the fur was just beginning to grow back. Birchpaw had been lucky to survive the badger attack.

But he couldn’t be protected by his Clanmates forever. He had to learn the skills he needed to survive, and being out on patrol was a good way to put them into practice. “Be careful of fox traps!” he called after him.

“It’s time he ran the itch out of his paws,” Sandstorm commented when the apprentice had disappeared. “Between his injuries and Ashfur’s, he’s hardly been out of camp since the badger attack.”

“Maybe Firestar will let you take over his training until Ashfur’s fit again,” Thornclaw suggested.

“Maybe.” Brambleclaw nodded, trying to hide how much the idea pleased him. He was enjoying this taste of mentoring, and his paws tingled with eagerness to have an apprentice of his own.

He still hoped Firestar would choose him to mentor Berrykit. He admired the kit’s brave, inquisitive nature, even though it had led to trouble. He was the biggest and strongest of Daisy’s litter, too, with the potential to be a fine warrior.

Leaping over the gnarled roots of an oak tree, Brambleclaw spotted Birchpaw standing beside a bramble thicket a few tail-lengths ahead, his jaws open to draw in scent.

“I’ve found the scent markers, Brambleclaw,” he reported.

“What? You can’t have.” Hadn’t Ashfur given Birchpaw any training at all? “We’re nowhere near the ShadowClan border.”

Birchpaw looked hurt. “But I’m sure…” he began.

Sandstorm brushed through the ferns until she reached the spot where Birchpaw had stopped to taste the air. A moment later she came back, her green eyes gleaming with anger. “Birchpaw’s right,” she meowed. “ShadowClan have set their scent markers just beyond those brambles.”

Thornclaw let out a furious hiss. “That’s ThunderClan territory!”