Erin Hunter - Dawn

“You left half your pelt behind, though,” Stormfur reminded her, and Squirrelpaw swatted him playfully with her forepaw in reply.

There seemed to be no danger here, no fresh scents of Twolegs or dogs; just lots of sheep that grazed noisily, paying little attention to the cats. The cats spread out across the meadow, each Clan keeping to itself. Only Crowpaw, Tawnypelt, Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, and Stormfur broke away from their Clanmates, taking turns hurrying up and down the line, watching for stragglers.

Tallstar trekked wearily along. Onewhisker had not left his side all day. The other leaders glanced at the elderly WindClan cat from time to time, clearly worried.

“We should find a place to rest,” Barkface advised as the sky darkened and a chill breeze ruffled the cats’ fur.

“There’s a copse up ahead,” Firestar meowed. “We could find shelter there.”

The other leaders nodded, and the cats climbed to the top of the sloping field and padded into the wood. Leafpaw sank gratefully onto a pile of moss.

“I smell fox,” Blackstar warned.

“The scent is stale,” Leopardstar observed, scenting the air.

“But it might come back while we’re sleeping,” Mudclaw meowed.

“The Clans should all sleep together,” called Dawnflower, reaching out with her tail to stop her tom kit, a plump, round-faced tabby, from wandering after a woodlouse. “Lie down, Tumblekit,” she scolded.

“The kits and queen, should sleep in the center,” Onewhisker suggested. “They’ll be safest there.” He glanced at Tallstar.

“The oldest cats should join them.”

“Very well,” Blackstar agreed. “Each Clan will post two guards to keep watch.”

Leafpaw padded over to Sorreltail, grateful for the shelter of the bracken. Ferncloud should sleep soundly tonight, she decided, with four Clans and thick undergrowth to keep Birchkit warm. The woods were very quiet, the frosty silence broken only by the hooting of an owl. It wasn’t home, and the jumbled scents of four different Clans made Leafpaw’s nose twitch, but she felt safe enough to curl up next to Cinderpelt and go to sleep.

Leafpaw slowly grew used to dealing with Thunderpaths as they trekked toward the setting sun. The Clans still crossed separately, but the queens watched out for each other’s kits now, having seen how easily the youngest cats were confused by the noise and the stench of the monsters. Like cobwebs in the rain, the Clan boundaries were beginning to dissolve.

“We should reach the mountains this evening,” Brambleclaw announced as Leafpaw did her morning rounds of the Clan, checking for injuries or signs of infection.

“Are we that close?” She stared up at the peaks, which had grown from a tiny line on the horizon into a forbidding mass of stone. She shivered at the sight of the snow that capped the highest crags. Some of the cats had already begun coughing, awakening Leafpaw’s fear of greencough, the illness that could wipe out an entire Clan in leaf-bare.

“Leafpaw!” Firestar called. “Are you up for a little hunting?”

“Yes, please,” she replied eagerly. She had been so busy tending to the Clan, padding cuts with cobweb, soothing scratches with dock, trying to make the best of what herbs she and Cinderpelt had found along the way, that she had not hunted in days.

“Go with Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw, then,” Firestar ordered. “See if you can bring back a mouse or two.”

Squirrelpaw bounded to her side. “Which way shall we go?”

“There should be plenty of mice in that field over there.”

Brambleclaw pointed with his tail to an open meadow beyond the hedgerow.

“Come on then,” Squirrelpaw urged.

Brambleclaw charged after her, and Leafpaw followed, wriggling through the hedge to find herself in a broad, grassy space.

While Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw ranged around the edge of the field, she headed into the long grass battered down by the leaf-bare winds and rain. Almost at once she smelled mouse. After the long, hungry moons in the prey-scarce forest they had left behind, Leafpaw could not believe her luck. Crouching down, she prowled through the grass until she found the freshest trail. A moment later she spotted a twitch of brown scrabbling deep in the grass, and pounced.

The mouse darted away before her paws hit the ground, and she only flattened the tussock where it had been sitting a heartbeat before.

“I see you’re more accustomed to forest hunting.”

Hawkfrost’s condescending mew made Leafpaw jump. She spun around to find the RiverClan warrior calmly watching her, his tail curled over his paws.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?” she challenged him. “Like hunt for your own Clan?”

“I’ve already caught three mice and a thrush,” he meowed.

“I think I have earned a rest.”

As Leafpaw searched for a sharp reply, Hawkfrost lifted his nose and scented the air. “Dog!” he hissed. “Heading this way.”

Leafpaw could hear the heavy pawsteps now, pounding through the grass. She stared around in terror, wondering which way to run.

“Get back to the hedge!” Hawkfrost commanded.

Leafpaw began to run, but an angry snarl made her freeze.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Hawkfrost arching his back at a snarling black-and-white dog. The RiverClan warrior let out a hiss and leaped back, lashing out to rake his claws across the dog’s snout.

“Brambleclaw! Squirrelpaw! Help!” Leafpaw yowled.

The dog lunged again; Hawkfrost sprang out of the way, but the dog turned in an instant and snapped at the air where Hawkfrost had been.

“Look out!” Brambleclaw burst out of the grass beside Leafpaw and leaped onto the back of the dog. He clung on with piercing claws as it bucked and howled and struggled to shake him off. Brambleclaw hung on, but the dog twisted its head back and clamped its jaws shut only a mouse-length from Brambleclaw’s face. Hissing in terror, Brambleclaw let go and was hurled to the ground. In the heartbeat it took him to recover, the dog had rounded on him, slavering with rage.

Just in time, Hawkfrost threw himself in front of Brambleclaw, aiming a flurry of thorn-sharp swipes at the dog’s muzzle. Brambleclaw scrambled to his paws and joined the attack. Leafpaw stood stiff-legged with horror, watching the two warriors turn and move and hunch their massive shoulders as though one were a reflection of the other.

The dog began to back away with its tail clamped between its legs. Hawkfrost reared up on his hind legs and hissed so menacingly that the dog yelped and ran for the hedge.

“Brambleclaw, are you all right?” Leafpaw gasped.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good job I was here to save you,” Hawkfrost sneered.

“I saved you , in case you’ve forgotten,” Brambleclaw retorted.

Hawkfrost shrugged. “I suppose you did,” he admitted ungraciously.

“Well, I guess you scared that mutt off pretty well,” Brambleclaw conceded.

“What’s going on?” Squirrelpaw hurried out of the long grass. “I smell dog.”

“It attacked us. Brambleclaw and Hawkfrost scared it away,” Leafpaw reported.

“You’re kidding!” gasped Squirrelpaw.

“I’m going back now,” Hawkfrost announced abruptly.

Their narrow escape didn’t seem to have made him any friendlier, and Leafpaw was quite happy to see the RiverClan warrior stalk away.

“Come on; let’s keep hunting,” meowed Brambleclaw. He bounded off through the grass.

“Come on, Leafpaw!” Squirrelpaw called over her shoulder. “You’ll need to eat well before we head into the mountains.”

Leafpaw looked up at the snow-dappled peaks. She wished she shared her sister’s courage. The Clans had struggled enough getting this far—how would the kits and elders cope with rocks and ice, and sheer, dizzying cliffs? How would the warriors and apprentices cope, for that matter? She shut her eyes and uttered a silent prayer to StarClan, but she felt hollow with dread as her words came echoing emptily back, as if there were no one there to listen.