Erin Hunter - Midnight

He went back into the wood to collect the rest of the prey.

By the time he returned, Stormfur and Crowpaw had also brought back a good catch. For the first time in many days, they were able to eat as much as they wanted. Purdy woke up and gulped down the fresh-kill enthusiastically, as if he found it much tastier than the kittypet food he was used to.

They all slept well. When he woke, Brambleclaw saw that the clouds had vanished and sunlight was angling through the trees, bathing the forest in a reddish glow. Springing up, he climbed as high as he could above the stream and managed to find a gap in the trees so that he could see where the sun was going down.

“That’s the path we have to take.” Stormfur scrambled up the slope to stand beside him, and his voice was as calm and determined as if he had shared the visions himself. “That’s where we will find what midnight tells us.”

Brambleclaw’s paws itched to race toward the setting sun, as if he knew for certain that Bluestar was waiting there to tell him exactly how he could save the forest. But he knew that it was more sensible to stick to their original plan and spend the night in the wood. Carefully noting the direction they needed to travel, he went back to his friends beside the stream.

Tawnypelt was tearing ravenously into a rabbit. She paused to nod a greeting at Brambleclaw as he appeared. “I’m famished,” she admitted. “And my shoulder feels much better.

What did you say that was you put on it, Squirrelpaw?”

“Burdock root.” Brambleclaw noticed that Squirrelpaw did not try to explain how she knew that burdock root was the right remedy for the infected bite. Perhaps she was wondering about it, too.

She began chewing up another of the roots, and when Tawnypelt had finished eating she applied more of it to her wound. Brambleclaw noticed that the swelling had gone down and the angry red color had faded. He breathed silent thanks to StarClan—and to Leafpaw—for his sister’s recovery.

By the time they set out the next morning, after another good meal, Tawnypelt looked almost like her old self. She was barely limping at all and her eyes were bright again.

Long before sunhigh they came to the edge of the forest. Ahead of them was open country for as far as they could see.

The ground rose and fell in a series of gentle slopes. Wind rippled over short, springy grass interspersed with creeping trefoil and wild thyme. It looked to be easy going, and the air had a fresh tang.

“Like home!” Crowpaw murmured, obviously remembering the open moorland of WindClan.

Unlike the WindClan apprentice, Brambleclaw was reluctant to leave the trees behind. The shelter of the canopy had been comforting. But the food and rest had given them all new strength, and he hoped that at last they were coming to the end of their journey.

To his surprise, Purdy said good-bye to them before they left the trees. “I don’t feel right under the open sky,” he confessed, echoing Brambleclaw’s own thoughts. “I guess I’ve had too many Upwalkers chasing me. I like to be somewhere I can hide. Besides, you don’t need me anymore. StarClan, whatever they might be, won’t be waiting for me at midnight,” he added with a glint in his eye.

“Maybe not,” meowed Brambleclaw. “Thanks for everything, anyway. We’ll miss you.” Surprisingly he realized that was true; he had come to feel something like affection for the exasperating old cat. “If you’re ever in our forest, you’ll be welcome to visit ThunderClan.”

As he finished speaking, he couldn’t help hearing Crowpaw mew under his breath to Tawnypelt, “Your brother might miss him, but I won’t!”

Brambleclaw curled his lip in warning at the WindClan cat, but Purdy hadn’t caught the apprentice’s muttered words. “I’ll wait here two or three days for you,” he promised. “In case you need help to find your way back.”

Brambleclaw glanced at Crowpaw in time to see him rolling his eyes at Feathertail, who just shrugged.

“Always supposin’ you come back of course,” Purdy went on as he padded away with his tail high. “You wouldn’t catch me so close to the sun-drown place. Shouldn’t wonder if you all end up drowned.”

“That’s right,” Squirrelpaw muttered into Brambleclaw’s ear. “Way to keep our hopes up!”

But by the end of that day, even Brambleclaw’s hopes were fading. The heat of the sun had drained his energy, and with no water on these rolling uplands his mouth felt like the floor of the sandy training hollow. His companions were no better off, plodding along with their heads down and tails drooping.

Tawnypelt was limping again; though she didn’t want any cat to examine her wound, Brambleclaw could see the swelling had returned, and wondered how much longer she could keep going. There was no more burdock root here.

Straight in front of them, the sun was sinking in a blaze of scarlet fire, tongues of flame spreading halfway across the sky.

“At least we’re heading the right way,” Feathertail murmured.

“Yes, but how far do we still have to go?” Brambleclaw had tried not to share his doubts, but his anxiety was becoming too much for him. “The sun-drown place could be days away.”

“I always said this was a mouse-brained idea,” Crowpaw remarked, though he sounded too exhausted to be aggressive.

“Well, how long do we carry on?” asked Stormfur. As all the other cats turned to look at him, he went on: “If we don’t find the place, sooner or later we have to decide… do we give up or keep trying?”

Brambleclaw knew he was right. At some point they might have to admit defeat. But what would that mean for their Clans, to ignore the will of StarClan and go home with the journey unfinished?

Then Squirrelpaw, who had been facing into the wind to drink in the scents it carried, spun around to face the others, her eyes blazing with excitement.

“Brambleclaw!” She gasped. “I can smell salt!”

Brambleclaw stared at the apprentice for a moment before opening his mouth and tasting the air for himself. Squirrelpaw was right. The salt tang was unmistakable, carrying him right back to his dream, and the bitter taste of the water that had surged around him.

“It is salt!” he meowed. “We must be close. Come on!”

He raced into the wind with the sun dazzling his eyes. A swift glance behind showed that his companions were following.

Even Tawnypelt was managing to hobble faster. Brambleclaw felt new strength pouring into his limbs, as if he could go on running forever until he soared into the fiery sky like one of the white birds that wheeled and screamed above them.

Instead, he came to a skidding, terrified halt on the edge of a huge cliff. Steep sandy slopes fell away barely a mouse-length in front of his paws. Waves crashed at the bottom, and stretching out ahead of him was a heaving expanse of blue-green water. The sun was sinking into it on the horizon, its flames so bright that Brambleclaw had to narrow his eyes against them. The orange fire burned a path like blood across the water, almost reaching the foot of the cliff.

For a few moments no cat could do anything but stare.

Then Brambleclaw shook himself. “We’ve got to hurry,” he meowed. “We have to find the cave with teeth before it gets dark.”

“And then wait for midnight,” Feathertail added.

Brambleclaw glanced from side to side, but he couldn’t see anything to tell him which way to go. Choosing a direction at random, he led the way along the cliff top. From time to time they stopped and peered over the edge to look for the cave.