Erin Hunter - Starlight

Brambleclaw realized she was right. Back in the forest there had been many days when the Clan hadn’t found as much fresh-kill as they had caught since they left on their patrol.

When all the cats had taken their turn to drink, they settled down to sleep among the grass at the foot of the slope.

Mistyfoot organized sentries, and Crowfeather took first watch. As Brambleclaw curled up comfortably beside Squirrelflight, he could just see the WindClan warrior’s pricked ears outlined against the darkness of the forest.

It’s been a good day , he thought, closing his eyes. We have found possible homes for two of the Clans. But what about ThunderClan? What if there’s nowhere for us ?

Clouds covered the sun the next morning as the patrol set off to find their way back to the lake. Heading in what they thought was the right direction, Brambleclaw stopped short when he smelled scent markers, and spotted the walls of the Twoleg nest through the trees.

“Yuck!” Squirrelflight’s lip curled. “That’s worse than fox dung. Those kittypets must have marked their territory.”

The patrol skirted the markers warily; to Brambleclaw’s relief there was no sign of the hostile kittypets. With the nest in view, he could remember which way they had approached it the night before, and it was not long before they crossed their earlier scent trail.

“This way!” Brambleclaw meowed.

A chill wind shook the tops of the pines, and as they reached the shore the cats felt the full force of it.

Brambleclaw turned to face it, the cold blast flattening his fur against his sides. He guessed they had traveled about halfway around the lake. Looking back the way they had come, he could see the dark smudge of the island against a background of pale green hills. The surface of the lake was gray and choppy, under clouds that bulged with rain.

“Just what we need!” Tawnypelt grumbled, tucking her nose into her chest.

Waving his tail for the rest to follow him, Brambleclaw retraced his steps into the trees. “I think we should stay under cover,” he suggested. “It’s more sheltered here.”

“Just as long as we don’t get lost again,” Mistyfoot warned.

“Let’s stay where we can see the lake.”

The others were all happy to get out of the icy wind. They moved off, keeping the lake in sight through the outlying trees but not venturing onto the open shore.

They had not gone far before Crowfeather let out a muffled grunt and streaked off with his tail streaming behind him. Staring after him, Brambleclaw scented squirrel before he spotted the gray-furred creature nibbling a pinecone at the foot of one of the trees. Its ears flicked up in alarm as Crowfeather raced toward it. Dropping the pinecone, it sprang for the safety of the tree. But Crowfeather was faster.

With a mighty leap he grabbed the squirrel’s tail and pulled it back to the ground. He padded back with the limp body dangling from his jaws.

“Good catch!” Squirrelflight meowed.

Crowfeather nodded as he dropped the fresh-kill in front of them. “Come on; let’s eat.”

Crouching beside the others to eat his share, Brambleclaw itched with impatience to get moving again. The leaders expected them home by nightfall to report what they had discovered, and they still had a lot of territory to explore—and two Clans still needed homes.

“Let’s go,” he meowed as soon as they had finished. To his relief, Mistyfoot didn’t protest, just swiped her tongue around her jaws and kept pace with him as he set off through the trees at a steady trot.

Brambleclaw’s paws tingled with excitement. This could be the day when they found ThunderClan’s new home!

RiverClan and ShadowClan had already found good places, and he guessed that the ridge of hills across the lake would suit WindClan. But deep down, finding somewhere for his Clanmates to live and hunt safely was what he wanted most of all. Their home in the forest had suited them so well, in spite of being close to the Thunderpath and Twolegplace.

Would they find anywhere nearly as good here?

As if she could read his thoughts, his sister, Tawnypelt, padded up beside him and touched her muzzle briefly to his side. “Worried about something?” she mewed.

“I’m okay,” he told her, trying hard to convince himself.

“I’ll just be happier when we’ve found some territory for ThunderClan.”

“There’s a long way to go yet,” Tawnypelt mewed encouragingly.

Soon they came to a wide path winding through the trees.

The pine-needle cover gave way to short grass; regular dents in it had filled with water to form small pools.

“Horses have been along here,” Crowfeather mewed, lapping at one of the puddles.

Tawnypelt tasted the air. “Twolegs, too. But there’s no sign of them now.”

Mistyfoot was gazing up at a tree close to the edge of the path. “That’s a Twoleg thing,” she reported, flicking her tail at something above her head.

Brambleclaw looked where she was pointing. A round shape made of something hard and shiny had been fastened to the tree. It was bright blue, the same glittering color as some of the monsters on the Thunderpath.

“What do you think it’s for?” Squirrelflight asked.

“Maybe it’s like a Twoleg scent marking,” Brambleclaw suggested. “This path could be a boundary between two territories.”

There seemed nothing dangerous about the mark, but all the cats looked around warily as they crossed the path.

Brambleclaw reminded himself crossly that he never used to be this scared of Twolegs. Not until they brought their monsters to the forest and shut up all the cats they could catch in small Twoleg dens. Now he wondered whether he would ever feel safe around Twolegs again, and he let out a sigh of relief when they reached the shelter of the trees on the other side.

Gradually the pine trees began to thin out. Cold rain began to fall, billowing over the cats as the wind rattled the branches above them, sending a prickly shower of pine needles onto their heads.

“I’d give anything for a nice warm den!” Squirrelflight grumbled, flicking raindrops from her ears.

Heads down, they plodded on until the trees stopped altogether, giving way to a broad, straight-edged grassy clearing.

At the edge of the wood they crossed another Twoleg path, narrower than the first, the grass worn away by many feet. By now everything was so wet that no cat could pick up a scent; all Brambleclaw could be sure of was that no Twolegs were there now.

“There’s another one of those half-bridges,” he mewed, pricking his ears toward the wooden structure that jutted out into the lake. Squirrelflight didn’t seem keen on venturing onto it when billows of icy rain scudded across the surface of the lake and rattled against the wood.

They cautiously crossed the exposed space beyond the trees, crouching down until the short grass brushed their belly-fur. For a while there was no sound except for the falling rain and the trees clattering in the wind. They had a clear view of the lake from here, and Brambleclaw realized that they were about to enter the last stretch of trees before the bare ridge of hills; beyond that was the place where the horses were, and then the copse of trees where all four Clans waited to hear about their new homes. If WindClan was going to take the hills, which seemed logical, this was ThunderClan’s last chance to find somewhere to live.

Brambleclaw’s ears twitched as he picked up the sound of running water. Could it be a place where his Clanmates could make camp, with somewhere to drink close by?