Erin Hunter - Midnight

Worst of all were his worries about Tawnypelt’s shoulder. Though his sister was too proud to admit she was in pain, by the time they stopped for the night she could barely walk. The rat bite had stopped bleeding, but her shoulder was swollen and the flesh where her fur had been torn away was red and puffy. Brambleclaw didn’t need to be a medicine cat to know that the bite was infected. Squirrelpaw and Feathertail had taken turns licking the wound while Tawnypelt slipped into an uneasy, shallow sleep, but every cat knew that it would take more than that to heal her.

Brambleclaw jumped at a scrabbling sound close by in the bushes, then relaxed when Stormfur appeared and crouched down beside him.

“I’ll watch for a bit if you like,” the gray warrior meowed.

“Thanks.” Brambleclaw arched his back and drove his claws into the ground in a stretch. “I’m not sure I can sleep, though.”

“Try,” Stormfur advised him. “You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

“I know.” With another glance at the moon, he added, “I wish we were all safely back at Fourtrees.”

To his surprise Stormfur blinked at him sympathetically.

“We will be soon. Don’t worry. StarClan are with us here just as much as if we were at the Gathering with the rest of our Clans.”

Brambleclaw let out a sigh. Somehow, tangled as they were in Twolegplace, it was hard to imagine the starry warriors weaving among them. With a last look at the moon, he curled up and closed his eyes, and at last managed to sink into sleep.

The barking of a dog woke him. He sprang up, quivering, only to realize with relief that it was too distant to be a threat; there was no dog scent close by. A gray light filtered through the bushes, and the leaves stirred in a chill breeze with a damp tang to it, as if rain was not far off.

Brambleclaw’s companions were sleeping around him, all except Stormfur, who was not in sight. Brambleclaw braced himself, preparing to wake them and get them moving again, when Crowpaw lifted his head and scrambled to his paws, shaking the leaf mold off his pelt.

“Listen, Brambleclaw,” he meowed, sounding less aggressive than usual. “We’ve got to get out of here today. Things would be better if we could find a forest, or even farmland.

We might need to stop for a bit to let Tawnypelt rest, and we can’t do that in the middle of all these Twolegs.”

Brambleclaw hoped he hid his surprise at how reasonable the younger cat sounded, especially at how concerned he was for Tawnypelt. “You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m not sure.

We’ve no choice but to trust Purdy to get us out of here.”

“It’s a pity we ever let him come with us,” Crowpaw growled. He padded across to where Purdy was sleeping, an untidy heap of tabby fur, snoring and twitching. Crowpaw prodded him hard in the ribs with one paw. “Wake up!”

“Hey? Wha’?” Purdy blinked and then heaved himself up until he was sitting. “What’s all the hurry?”

“We need to get moving.” Crowpaw’s abrasive tone was back. “Or had you forgotten?”

Leaving him to get some sense out of Purdy, too tired and anxious to go over and soothe the festering quarrel, Brambleclaw went to wake the others. He left Tawnypelt until last, bending over to sniff her wound and examine it closely.

“It’s no better,” Feathertail murmured at his shoulder. “I’m not sure she’ll be able to go far today.”

As she spoke, Tawnypelt opened her eyes. “Brambleclaw?

Is it time to go?” She struggled to sit up, but Brambleclaw could see that her leg would barely support her.

“Lie still for a bit,” Feathertail told her. “Let me give that bite another lick.”

She crouched down and her tongue rasped in a comforting rhythm over the swollen flesh. Tawnypelt let her head drop onto her paws again. As Brambleclaw watched, Stormfur reappeared with a mouse in his jaws, which he dropped close to Tawnypelt’s muzzle.

“There you are,” he mewed. “Fresh-kill.”

Tawnypelt blinked up at him. “Oh, Stormfur… thank you.

But I should catch my own.”

Brambleclaw’s belly clenched with pity. No cat had ever looked less able to hunt.

Stormfur just touched her ear with his nose. “You eat that one,” he murmured. “You need to keep up your strength. I can catch more later.”

With a little nod of gratitude, Tawnypelt began to eat.

Ignoring the argument that was developing between Purdy and Crowpaw, Brambleclaw went to see what Squirrelpaw was doing.

The ginger apprentice was sitting up in the nest of leaves she had made the night before. She was muttering something under her breath, and she kept passing her tongue over her lips as if she could taste something foul.

“What’s the matter?” Brambleclaw asked. Trying to joke, he added, “Have you been eating your own fur?”

For once Squirrelpaw did not react. “No,” she replied, still licking her lips. “It’s just this funny taste. I keep thinking I should remember what it is.”

“Not salt, I hope?” Brambleclaw suggested lightly. He had never thought he would miss Squirrelpaw’s smart remarks, but this seriousness made him anxious.

“No… something else. Just let me think about it, and I’ll remember in a bit. Something tells me it might be important.”

They set off again, with Purdy in the lead. The night’s sleep seemed to have helped Tawnypelt, and she limped along valiantly, managing to keep up with Purdy’s ambling pace.

Brambleclaw kept an eye on her, determined to stop for a rest if he thought his sister needed it.

The old tabby led them through more Twoleg gardens and out onto a narrow Thunderpath bordered on one side by a wooden fence and on the other by a high wall. Two or three monsters crouched at the edge of the Thunderpath, their huge eyes gleaming. Brambleclaw eyed them suspiciously as he and his companions passed, ready to flee if they roared into life.

The Thunderpath bent sharply to one side; Purdy rounded the corner and Brambleclaw saw Feathertail halt and stare disbelievingly in front of her.

“No!” she spat with uncharacteristic fury. “That’s too much! We can’t go that way, you furball!”

As if in answer, a dog started barking on the other side of the wall. Brambleclaw glanced around in alarm, but he could see no way for the dog to reach them. Anxiously he bounded forward, and when he reached Feathertail he saw what had upset her. A few foxlengths in front of them the Thunderpath ended abruptly in a high wall, blocking the path ahead with the same dull red stone that had surrounded them for days. They couldn’t go any farther that way. Every muscle in Brambleclaw’s body shrieked in protest at the thought of having to retrace their steps.

Purdy had stopped to look back, an injured expression on his face. “There’s no call to be like that, now.”

“You have no idea where we are, do you?” Feathertail demanded. She had flattened herself against the hard surface of the ground; Brambleclaw wasn’t sure whether she was trying to hide, or preparing to attack their hopeless guide. And if she did, would he stop her? “We’ve got an injured cat with us. We can’t spend all day traipsing after you up and down this… this vile place!”

“Steady.” Crowpaw came up and bent over Feathertail, rasping his tongue over her ear. “Just ignore the old fool.

We’ll make a plan to get out of here by ourselves.”

Feathertail bared her teeth at him. “How can we? We don’t know where we are.”

Behind the wall the dog was going crazy, letting out a flurry of high-pitched barks. Brambleclaw tensed, ready to run if it found a way out of its garden. Behind him, Stormfur bounded around the corner, checked his pace as he realized the dog was no immediate danger, and went over to his sister.