Erin Hunter - Starlight

Crowfeather was ferociously loyal to his Clanmates; it wasn’t surprising that he would be the first to start setting up the old barriers again.

They started to follow the slope up to the top of the ridge, with the lake stretching out below them like a shining sheet of sky. Brambleclaw padded beside Squirrelflight, gazing from side to side over this new stretch of territory. They climbed a shoulder of the hill to a stream that foamed over rocks and vanished into the trees they had left behind. They followed it uphill for a few fox-lengths until they came to stepping-stones where they could cross. A smaller stream joined it here, gurgling down a steep, grassy slope.

Before they reached the top of the hill they came to a spot where the ground fell away, as if some enormous monster had taken a bite out of the hillside. But not a Twoleg monster, Brambleclaw realized; this hollow had been formed by time and weather alone. Boulders were scattered over the ground in the middle, while gorse and other shrubs grew thickly around the edges. Inside, it would be sheltered from the wind, but not as closed-in as the walls of stone that encircled the possible ThunderClan camp.

Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. “What about that for your camp, Crowfeather?” he asked.

Crowfeather kneaded the ground in excitement as he looked down the slope. “It looks good,” he agreed. “I’ll check it out. You go on, and I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” Brambleclaw meowed. “I don’t think we should leave you on your own.”

“I’ll be fine,” Crowfeather promised, flexing his hindlegs, ready to dash off. “There’s no scent of Twolegs or foxes. And I can find my own way back to the camp by the horseplace. I can smell those creatures from here!”

Before any of the others could argue, he streaked off down the hill. Brambleclaw watched him pause on the edge of the dip before plunging into the gorse cover, the trembling branches the only sign of where he had been a moment before.

“I hope he’s right about the Twolegs and foxes,” murmured Mistyfoot, coming over to stand beside Brambleclaw.

Too late, he wondered if he should have consulted Mistyfoot before letting Crowfeather go off on his own. He opened his mouth to defend the WindClan warrior, but she stopped him, speaking gently to take any sting out of her words. “It’s all right, Brambleclaw. I can see how much respect these cats have for you. That’s something to be proud of, not to apologize for. Few cats are born leaders, but I think you are.”

He blinked at her, partly grateful and partly surprised. It seemed strange having a RiverClan cat make a judgment like that about him. He wondered what Mistyfoot thought of his half brother, Hawkfrost, who was a RiverClan warrior. Was Tigerstar’s other son a born leader, too?

Suddenly a gust of wind buffeted them so hard that Brambleclaw’s eyes watered, and for a couple of heartbeats he thought it would sweep him off his paws. It brought a strong scent of horse with it. Shaking his head to clear away the tears, Brambleclaw spotted the horseplace at the far end of the ridge, and beyond it the small copse where the four Clans waited for the patrol to return.

“We’re almost there!” Squirrelflight exclaimed. She bounded forward, and the other cats followed, their paws flying over the smooth ground. It was much faster to travel out here than in the forest, and for a moment Brambleclaw understood why WindClan cats ran more swiftly than any other, and seemed restless when they were closed in by ferns and tree trunks.

The sun was setting behind the pine trees, turning the surface of the lake to fire, as they trekked down the hill. They had just reached the bottom when Crowfeather caught up, panting.

“Well?” Squirrelflight demanded.

Crowfeather swiped his tongue around his jaws as if he had just swallowed a juicy piece of fresh-kill. His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. “It’s great!” he mewed. “There’s a tunnel under one of the gorse bushes that looks as if it might lead to an old badger set, but the badgers are long gone.

There’s not even any scent left.”

“You could use the set as a den,” Tawnypelt suggested.

Crowfeather sniffed. “WindClan cats sleep outside. Only badgers and rabbits live in burrows,” he reminded her.

In twilight they slipped along the edge of the lake, past the fence of the horseplace. All Brambleclaw’s senses were alert for dogs and Twolegs, but they saw nothing except for one huge horse looking over the fence. Squirrelflight jumped as it blew out a noisy breath, then hissed to hide how startled she had been.

Moments later they heard a loud meow coming out of the darkness. “Who’s there?”

“It’s okay, Hawkfrost, it’s only us,” Mistyfoot called.

The RiverClan warrior emerged from the shadows, his powerful shoulders flexing smoothly under his tabby pelt.

“Leopardstar and the other leaders sent me to look out for you,” he meowed. “They’re all expecting you. Follow me.”

Brambleclaw blinked. It was strange to think that he and Hawkfrost were kin, both sons of Tigerstar. They were alike in so many ways, yet Brambleclaw struggled to feel any kinship or loyalty to the RiverClan warrior. He was too quick to order other cats around, too openly hungry for power in his Clan, and he made Brambleclaw ask himself questions about their shared inheritance that he would have preferred to ignore. Such as, where did Hawkfrost’s ambition come from?

Did he share Tigerstar’s hunger for power at any cost? And if he had inherited this from their father, what did that mean for Brambleclaw?

Hawkfrost led them to the trees near the horseplace where the Clans had stopped to rest the day before. Firestar and Blackstar were talking together beside the tree stump, but otherwise the clearing looked deserted.

As soon as the patrol appeared, Blackstar leaped up on the stump and let out a yowl. “Cats of all Clans! Gather around!”

At once the shadowy shapes of cats began to appear out of hollows and clumps of long grass. One or two jumped down from low-hanging branches. Mudclaw pushed his way through his Clanmates and joined Blackstar on the stump, forcing Leopardstar to sit on the ground again.

Firestar padded over to stand in front of Brambleclaw.

“Welcome back,” he meowed. “No trouble, I hope?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Brambleclaw replied. He glanced guiltily at Squirrelflight as he remembered the fight they had nearly lost against the kittypets.

“One of you had better come up on the stump so we can all hear you,” Firestar decided. “Mistyfoot, would you like to join us?”

Mistyfoot dipped her head. “Actually, Firestar, I think Brambleclaw should speak on behalf of the patrol. He has more experience with describing unknown places.”

Brambleclaw looked quickly at her, but there was no edge to the RiverClan deputy’s words. Instead she stepped back to let him reach the tree stump. “Thanks,” he murmured as he went past. Mistyfoot just blinked.

Brambleclaw bunched his hindlegs underneath him and sprang onto the stump. It was a tight squeeze, and his flank brushed against Blackstar’s as he shuffled around to face the cats below. The ShadowClan leader drew away with the faintest hiss, but Brambleclaw tried not to let Blackstar’s hostility ruffle his fur. His heart pounded at the thought of describing the long journey around the lake to all four Clans.

The cats gazed up at him, and Brambleclaw could feel their hunger for his news pulsing through the air. Briefly he wondered if this was what it was like to be a Clan leader, with every cat hanging on his words.

Then he heard Dustpelt’s voice raised impatiently above the rustle of the branches overhead. “Get on with it, Brambleclaw! Tell us what you found.”