Erin Hunter - Starlight

There was no Highrock like the one in the old camp.

Instead, Firestar had found a ledge a few tail-lengths above the heads of the other cats, which he reached by leaping up a tumble of broken rock that made rough stepping-stones up the cliff. Just below the ledge—already cats were beginning to call it the Highledge—there was a narrow cleft that opened into a cave where Firestar had decided to make his den. Of all the dens in the new camp, this was most like the one in the ravine, enclosed by lichen-covered walls and with a dry, sandy floor.

Firestar raised his voice in a yowl, his pelt a splash of orange flame against the blue-gray rock. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the ledge for a Clan meeting.”

Brambleclaw’s pelt tingled to hear the familiar words ring around the hollow. He watched the leggy black figure of Spiderpaw, his pelt groomed until it was as glossy as a raven’s wing, cross the clearing to stand beside his mentor, Mousefur.

She looked thin and shaky, as if she were still not quite recovered from her bellyache, but her eyes shone with pride as her apprentice joined her.

Brambleclaw wriggled forward, hoping to sit beside Squirrelflight, but he stopped when he saw that she was sitting with Ashfur, Sootfur, and Rainwhisker. Their heads were close together and their shoulders shook gently as if they were sharing a joke. Brambleclaw curled his lip, suddenly feeling hollow and cold. He sat gloomily beside the nearest cat, who happened to be Cloudtail, and tried to concentrate.

“Trouble?” murmured the white warrior. He glanced past Brambleclaw and flicked his ears toward Squirrelflight.

“What have you done to ruffle her fur?”

“Nothing,” Brambleclaw replied stubbornly. The reasons for their quarrel were too complicated and private to share with any cat.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Cloudtail gave him a sympathetic flick with his tail. “It’ll blow over.”

“Maybe.” Brambleclaw sighed; he really didn’t want to discuss it.

“We have a ceremony to perform,” Firestar meowed as soon as all the cats were settled. “Mousefur, are you satisfied that Spiderpaw is ready to become a warrior?”

The brown warrior dipped her head. “I am.”

Firestar ran lightly down the broken rocks until he reached the floor of the hollow, and beckoned Spiderpaw closer to him with his tail. Spiderpaw stepped forward, quivering from nose to tail.

“I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice.” Firestar’s voice rang out clearly above the sound of the wind and the gentle creak of branches on the rim of the hollow. “He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” He fixed his gaze on Spiderpaw and went on, “Spiderpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Spiderpaw replied eagerly.

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Spiderpaw, from this moment you will be known as Spiderleg. StarClan honors your courage and your enthusiasm, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

He took a pace forward and rested his muzzle on the top of Spiderleg’s head. The young warrior gave Firestar’s shoulder a respectful lick, then stepped back to join the other warriors.

“Spiderleg! Spiderleg!” The Clan raised their voices to greet him by his new name. Dustpelt looked ready to burst with pride, and Ferncloud’s eyes were shining with joy to see their eldest son made a warrior at last. Birchkit bounced around his brother’s paws, clearly recovered from his scare that morning.

Firestar raised his tail for silence and the noise died away, all the Clan turning curious faces toward him.

“Before we go to our duties, I have another ceremony to perform,” Firestar meowed. “Mousefur and I have been talking together, and she has come to a decision. Mousefur, are you still sure that this is what you want?”

The old she-cat dipped her head in assent as she stepped forward.

“Mousefur,” Firestar continued, “is it your wish to give up the name of warrior and go to join the elders?”

Brambleclaw thought he heard a tremor in her voice as she mewed, “It is.” He guessed it was hard for the proud warrior to accept that she was growing old; the combination of the long journey and her recent illness had proved that she was not as strong as she used to be. Sadness chilled his fur as he remembered her courage and her fighting skills.

“Your Clan honors you and all the service you have given us,” Firestar went on. “I call upon StarClan to give you many seasons of rest.” He laid his tail upon Mousefur’s shoulders and the old cat bowed her head before padding over to stand beside Longtail and Goldenflower.

“I don’t need too much rest, Firestar,” she rasped. “I’ll still keep my claws sharp, and if trouble comes I’ll be ready.”

A murmur of amusement and admiration rose from the cats around her, and one or two of them called out, “Mousefur! Mousefur!” as if they were welcoming a new warrior. Goldenflower gave her a friendly lick around the ears.

The meeting began to break up. Brambleclaw went over to congratulate Spiderleg and noticed Firestar beckoning him.

“I heard Whitepaw telling Cloudtail about that squirrel you caught this morning,” his leader meowed.

Brambleclaw’s pelt bristled. He’d deliberately avoided ShadowClan territory by taking the patrol in the opposite direction; was Firestar going to blame him for invading WindClan now? “Onewhisker said we could have that stretch of woodland,” he pointed out, trying not to let his anger show in his voice.

“I know.” Firestar’s voice was mild. “You haven’t done anything wrong. But go easy on that patch of territory just for now. We’ll sort it out eventually, but until we do I don’t want to take advantage of Onewhisker’s good nature.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Brambleclaw replied, relieved. “But it’s his responsibility to fight for WindClan’s boundaries. Or does he expect us to defend his territory as well as our own, just because we’ve been traveling together for the past moon?”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry, Brambleclaw,” he meowed. “The time will come when every Clan will defend themselves with teeth and claws, and fight for their territories as fiercely as we ever did. But that time is not now.” He turned to go, then paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Get some rest, Brambleclaw,” he advised. “You’ll be coming to the Gathering tonight.”

Brambleclaw blinked, hoping his leader couldn’t see the anticipation that surged through him, making his fur stand on end. I’ll see Hawkfrost again! I can ask him about the dream! He burned with curiosity to know whether his half brother had met with Tigerstar too. Did kin share dreams? Not always—but his dream of the old camp had been so real, almost more real than finding their new home. If Tigerstar was really watching over his sons, surely he would want to visit them both?

He caught his breath, suddenly choking with guilt.

Hawkfrost belonged to a rival Clan. The fact that he and Brambleclaw were kin meant nothing compared to their loyalty to their Clanmates and their leaders. It was ridiculous to think that he and Hawkfrost might have shared a dream.

Yet as he padded across to the warriors’ den to catch a nap before leaving for the Gathering, Brambleclaw’s paws tingled with the thought that he would soon see his half brother again.

The sun had gone down but the horizon still blazed with scarlet when the ThunderClan cats set out. While he was waiting for Brackenfur to go through the tunnel in the barrier of thorns, Brambleclaw realized that Squirrelflight had slipped up to his side.