Erin Hunter - Dawn

A bitter wind blew down from the mountains as the Clans joined the trail that led into the towering peaks. Heavy clouds blan-keted the sky, and Leafpaw could tell by their yellow tinge that it would soon start snowing.

Brambleclaw and Stormfur were leading them along the side of a steep valley. It was as different from the forest as Leafpaw could possibly imagine. There were only a few trees, gnarled and stunted, clinging to the smooth gray stone, with nowhere that prey might live. Moons of desperate hunger had left the WindClan cats’ fur thin and useless against the chill, but they plodded grimly on with their heads down.

Tallstar looked as brittle as a leaf, often leaning on Onewhisker, who rarely strayed from his side. ShadowClan looked little better, their eyes weary and their pace slow, and RiverClan appeared shabby, their gleaming coats nothing but a memory, half-forgotten, like the days when every cat had enough to eat.

One of Tallpoppy’s kits gazed up at the crags with eyes as wide as an owl’s. “Are we really going up there?”

“Yes,” Tallpoppy answered bleakly.

Morningflower paused, then stiffly lifted one paw and grazed her tongue across its pad.

“Are you all right?” Leafpaw asked the elderly she-cat. Blood welled between Morningflower’s claws. Leafpaw looked farther up the line, where Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw padded side by side. “Squirrelpaw!”

Squirrelpaw turned at once.

“Can we stop? I need to dress Morningflower’s paw.”

“I’ll tell Firestar,” came the reply.

“Is there anything you need?” Brambleclaw meowed.

“Cobweb and comfrey, if possible.” Leafpaw gazed at the barren landscape with little hope of finding anything that would help.

Brackenfur, in the middle of the stream of cats, lifted his head. “We’ll find some,” he promised. He murmured to the cats around him. Mews rippled through the throng, and warriors of all Clans began to range out and search among the rocks.

Leafpaw examined Morningflower’s paw. “You’ve kept it clean,” she mewed. “But if you go on softening it with your tongue, it’ll never toughen.”

Barkface pushed his way forward to join them. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just raw from walking,” Morningflower muttered.

“Will this do?” Russetfur came over and spat a mouthful of leaves onto the ground.

Leafpaw sniffed them cautiously. They didn’t smell like anything she was used to. She lapped up a leaf, letting its flavor seep into her tongue before she dared bite it. The taste was bitter, but it had an astringent flavor that reminded her of marigold. “It might do.” She glanced at Barkface. “Should we try it?”

Barkface sniffed a leaf. “It looks a little like something we used on the moors.”

“You may as well try,” Morningflower offered. “If it works, you can use it on others. I’ll let you know soon enough if it hurts too much.”

Leafpaw chewed the leaf and washed its green juice into Morningflower’s paw.

The old cat winced and Leafpaw drew back. “It’s okay,” Morningflower grunted. “Just a sting. Carry on.”

Mothwing bounded up, one forepaw swathed in sticky, white web.

“Great, thanks!” Carefully, Leafpaw teased the web from her outstretched paw and wrapped as much as she could around Morningflower’s swollen pad. “Let me know if it starts to throb.”

“I will.” Morningflower pressed her paw gingerly to the ground. “Not bad,” she mewed.

Brambleclaw hurried back to the head of the line, and the cats set off again. Squirrelpaw walked quietly beside Leafpaw, her head down.

“Is this the way you came home?” Leafpaw mewed after a while.

“I… I think so,” Squirrelpaw mumbled.

Leafpaw glanced at her in surprise. They had come this way because Tawnypelt said it would be easier to follow the route they’d used before. She had assumed Squirrelpaw knew the way. She peered ahead to where the valley narrowed until it was little more than a cleft between the rocks. “Doesn’t anything look familiar?”

Squirrelpaw blinked. “It looks different coming in this direction. The Tribe led us most of the way last time.”

Leafpaw gulped. She wondered if they would meet any of the Tribe cats on their journey, these mud-streaked cats who worshiped strange ancestors and survived in a world of rock and ice.

As the Clans trekked on, higher and higher, only Stormfur looked comfortable. He leaped from rock to rock so easily he seemed quite unlike a RiverClan cat, and even his fur blended smoothly into the bare gray world.

There seemed to be no end to the climbing, neither that day nor the next. The terrain grew steeper and rockier, but still the peaks towered above them. Morningflower’s paw had improved, and Leafpaw kept an eye out for more stocks of the herb she’d used to heal it.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Sorreltail whispered. “This path is getting really narrow.”

She was right. The trail was leading them onto a ledge that spiraled around a dizzying gorge. The mountain fell away at one side of the path and rose up vertically on the other. The wind funneled through the gap like water through a ditch, tugging at Leafpaw’s fur. She narrowed her eyes against the icy blast and kept her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

The cats fell into single file to pick their way along the ledge.

“Carry the kits!” Blackstar called down the line, and his yowl echoed eerily off the walls of the gorge.

The ledge followed the curve of the mountain, sloping up toward a narrow pass between two peaks. The mountainside echoed with the rattle of stones as the edge of the path crum-bled beneath the cats’ paws and sent grit showering down into the shadows below. Leafpaw walked as close as she could to the rock face, her heart hammering. She could feel Sorreltail’s warm breath behind her.

Suddenly a wail rang out from up ahead, and a large chunk of rock clattered endlessly down into the abyss. A hole yawned in the narrow path, sending Smokepaw, a ShadowClan apprentice, plummeting into nothingness. For a moment he clutched desperately at the ledge, his claws scratching against the stone. Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy, lunged to grab him, but her extra weight only dislodged more stones, and the edge where Smokepaw clung suddenly dropped away.

Russetfur leaped backward, only just managing to save herself. The apprentice fell, twisting violently in the air, and disappeared into the darkness.

A ShadowClan queen leaned over the precipice.

“Smokepaw!”

“Get back!” Stormfur yowled. He weaved like a fish back along the ledge and dragged her back.

As the cats stared in frozen horror, Leafpaw willed StarClan to take the apprentice quickly. Blackstar peered over the edge.

“There’s nothing we can do,” he meowed, straightening up.

“We have to keep going.”

“You’re going to leave him?” wailed the queen.

“He won’t have survived that fall,” Blackstar told. “And we can’t reach his body.” He touched the queen’s flank with his muzzle. “I’m sorry, Nightwing. ShadowClan won’t forget Smokepaw; I promise.”

Hollow-eyed with shock and grief, the cats set off once more, pressing so close to the cliff face that it scraped their fur. But Smokepaw’s fall had left a gap in the ledge.

Fortunately Longtail was among the cats that had been ahead of the RiverClan apprentice—Leafpaw gulped at the thought of helping the sightless tom across a gap he had no way of measuring—but there were still several cats on the wrong side of the terrifying hole.