Erin Hunter - Midnight

“Well, what are you all staring at?” Squirrelpaw meowed.

“Get me out!”

The ginger apprentice was flat on her belly, halfway beneath the fence. Just where she had tried to slide through, the fence stuff had started to come unraveled, and the ends were tangled in her fur. Every time she wriggled, the sharp ends of fence stuff dug into her skin and made her squeak with pain.

“Keep still,” Brambleclaw ordered. He turned and studied the sturdy wooden post. “Then we can see what to do. Maybe if we dig up the fence post the stuff will come loose.” The post looked pretty solidly set in the ground, but if they all helped…

“It would be quicker to bite through the fence,” Stormfur argued. He tugged at the shiny strands with his front teeth, but they did not give way. He straightened up, spitting. “No, it’s too tough.”

“I could have told you that,” Crowpaw meowed. “Far better to bite through her fur and free her that way.”

“You leave my fur alone, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw snapped.

The WindClan apprentice bared his teeth with the hint of a snarl. “If you’d been more careful, this wouldn’t have happened. If we can’t get you out, you’ll have to stay here.”

“No, she won’t!” Stormfur rounded on the other cat. “I’ll stay with her, if no one else will.”

“Fine.” Crowpaw shrugged. “You stay here, and the four of us who are actually chosen will go on without you.”

Stormfur’s neck fur bristled and he sank his weight onto his haunches so that his leg muscles bulged under the dark gray fur; the two cats were heartbeats away from a fight. With a stab of panic Brambleclaw realized that two or three sheep had wandered up and were staring at the group of cats, while from farther away came the sharp barking of a dog. They would have to move quickly.

“That’s enough,” he meowed, thrusting himself between the two hostile toms. “No cat is being left behind. There must be a way to get Squirrelpaw out of there.”

He turned back to the apprentice to see Tawnypelt and Feathertail crouched beside her. Feathertail was chewing up dock leaves. “Honestly!” she exclaimed as she spat out the last of them and shot an exasperated glance at Brambleclaw. “Do you toms never do anything but argue?”

“It’s what they do best,” Tawnypelt mewed, a gleam of amusement in her eyes. “That’s right, spread the dock leaves on her fur. They should make it good and slippery. Breathe in, Squirrelpaw. You’ve been eating too many mice.”

Brambleclaw watched as Feathertail worked the chewed-up dock into Squirrelpaw’s pelt, rubbing it with one forepaw into the tangle of fur around the fence stuff.

“Now try again,” Tawnypelt directed.

Squirrelpaw scrabbled at the ground with her forepaws and tried to use her hind legs to push herself forward. “It’s not working!” She gasped.

“Yes, it is.” Feathertail’s voice was tense, and she pressed her paw against Squirrelpaw’s shoulder, which was slippery with green slime. “Keep going.”

“And hurry!” Brambleclaw added.

The dog barked again and the watching sheep scattered.

Dog-scent drifted toward them on the breeze, getting stronger.

Stormfur and Crowpaw braced themselves to flee.

Squirrelpaw gave one last enormous heave and shot through into the field. A knot of ginger fur slid off the fence stuff; a few strands of it were left behind, but Squirrelpaw was free. She stood up and shook herself. “Thanks,” she meowed to Feathertail and Tawnypelt. “That was a brilliant idea!”

She was right; Brambleclaw wished he had been the one to think of it. But at least they could go on now, straight into the path of the setting sun—and quickly, before that dog reached them. He led the way across the next field, confident that StarClan were guiding them.

When he woke the next morning, Brambleclaw was dismayed to see the sky covered by a thick layer of cloud. His confidence in StarClan’s guidance faltered. This was what he had been afraid of; perhaps it was just luck that had kept the sky clear until now. How was he supposed to know which way to go if he couldn’t see the sun?

Scrambling to his paws, he saw that his companions were still sleeping. The night before they had found no better shelter than a hollow place in a field under a couple of scrawny thorn trees. Brambleclaw found that he was growing more and more nervous without the familiar forest canopy overhead. He had never realized before how much he and his Clan mates relied on the trees: for prey, for shelter, and for concealment. Anxiety over Bluestar’s prophecy bit even more sharply, as if badger’s teeth were closing in his neck.

Paws itching to be on their way, he climbed the side of the hollow and looked around. The sky was unbroken gray; the air felt damp, as if there were rain to come. In the distance was a belt of trees, and the walls of more Twoleg nests. Brambleclaw hoped that their path would not lead them back among Twolegs.

“Brambleclaw! Brambleclaw!”

Some cat was calling his name excitedly. Brambleclaw turned to see Feathertail racing toward him up the side of the hollow.

“I’ve had it!” she exclaimed as she drew closer.

“Had what?”

“My saltwater sign!” Feathertail let out a delighted purr. “I dreamed of padding along a stretch of stony ground, with water washing over it. When I bent down to take a drink, the water was all salty, and I woke up tasting it.”

“That’s great, Feathertail.” Brambleclaw’s anxiety faded a little. StarClan were still watching over them.

“That means that Crowpaw is the only one of us who hasn’t had a sign,” Feathertail went on, glancing down into the hollow where Brambleclaw could just see the gray-black curve of Crowpaw’s back as he slept in a clump of grass.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him about your dream, then?” he suggested uneasily.

“We can’t do that!” Feathertail looked shocked. “He’d find out sooner or later, and then he’d think we were deliberately deceiving him. No,” she added after pausing to think, “let me tell him. I’ll wait to catch him in a good mood.”

Brambleclaw snorted. “You’ll wait a long time, then.”

Feathertail let out a faint mew of distress. “Oh, Brambleclaw. Crowpaw’s not so bad. It was hard for him, leaving the forest just when he was about to be made a warrior. I think he’s lonely—I have Stormfur, and you have Tawnypelt and Squirrelpaw. We all knew each other before this, but Crowpaw is on his own.”

Brambleclaw hadn’t thought of that before. It was worth thinking about, though it wouldn’t make it any easier to get on with Crowpaw the next time he started arguing the smallest point.

“We’re all loyal to our Clans,” he meowed. “And to the forest and the warrior code. Crowpaw is no different. He’d be fine if he didn’t want to be leader all the time, when he’s no more than an apprentice.”

Feathertail still looked uneasy. “Even if you’re right, it won’t make it any easier for him, knowing he’s the only one who hasn’t had a vision.”

Briefly Brambleclaw touched Feathertail’s muzzle with his own. “You tell him, then, when you think best.” Glancing around, he added, “We’d better wake them all and get moving. If we can work out which way to go.”

“That way.” Feathertail sounded confident as she waved her tail toward the belt of trees on the far side of the field.

“That’s where the sun went down last night.”

And after that ? Brambleclaw wondered. If there was no sun, how could they find their way? Would StarClan send them something else to help them find the sun-drown place? As he padded down into the hollow to wake his companions, he sent up a quick prayer to his warrior ancestors.