Erin Hunter - Midnight

Brambleclaw dug his claws firmly into the tough grass; it was too easy to imagine slipping over and falling, falling, falling into the hungry waves.

Gradually the land sloped down until the water was only the height of a tree below them. The cliff top jutted out so they could not see the bottom, and the almost sheer surface was deeply scored with ancient runnels of rain. As the cliff grew less steep, the cats scrabbled a little way down and made their way along closer to the water, sometimes even within reach of a salty burst of wave. Clefts, riven by ancient streams, split the rock, sometimes so wide that the cats had to leap over them, and the grass frequently gave way to hollows where a few twisted shrubs clung to the scant soil.

“There are plenty of places to shelter for the night if we don’t find the cave,” Stormfur pointed out.

Brambleclaw was beginning to think they might need to find somewhere to stop. The sun had sunk beneath the water by now, though great orange flares still streaked the sky. The breeze was growing colder. Tawnypelt at least could lie down, he thought, while the rest of them went on searching.

His sister had fallen a little way behind. Brambleclaw was just bounding back to her, skirting the edge of one of the clefts, when his paws slipped and he found himself sliding helplessly into the hollow. He scrabbled at the loose soil but it gave way under his claws, showering him with dirt. He kept on sliding; in the shadows he could not see the bottom and he let out a yowl of alarm.

“Brambleclaw!” Stormfur leaped into the hollow beside him and tried to sink his claws into Brambleclaw’s shoulder, but Brambleclaw felt more of the soil give way and they both slid downward more rapidly than before. Soil spattered over Brambleclaw’s face, stinging his eyes and choking him. From somewhere above he heard an earsplitting yowl and Squirrelpaw launched herself practically on top of him.

“No—go back!” he choked out, getting a mouthful of soil.

Then even the shifting soil vanished and there was nothing beneath him at all; he fell, howling, for a few terrified heartbeats and landed with a thump on damp pebbles.

For a moment he lay stunned. A booming echo thundered in his ears, and he felt as if the whole world were spinning around. Then he opened his eyes and stared in horror as he saw the shape of a massive gaping mouth with teeth closing on him, outlined against the red evening sky. He tried to scramble up, but a sudden rush of water swept him off his paws. His yowl of terror was cut off abruptly as water swirled into his mouth, with the terrifying salt taste of his dream.

Brambleclaw flailed with all his strength but the waves hurled him mercilessly toward the teeth and then tossed him back again, far under the cliff. He did not know where he was or which way he should try to swim. Water filled his eyes and ears, roaring around him. He gasped for breath, only to swallow more of the salt water.

His frantic struggles were growing weaker, and the cold, stifling waves were closing over his head when he felt a sharp pain in one shoulder. Suddenly the pressure on his fur vanished and he could breathe again. Coughing up water, he turned his head and saw Squirrelpaw’s eyes blazing at him, her teeth fastened firmly in his fur.

“No!” He gasped. “You can’t—you’ll drown…”

Squirrelpaw could not reply without letting go of him. Her only response was to kick out strongly with all four paws.

Brambleclaw felt pebbles shifting underneath his feet, and then the waves washed them back toward the teeth.

Summoning the last scrap of his strength he thrashed at the water, trying to drive himself and Squirrelpaw away from those spiky rocks. The water surged and lifted them up; he got a brief glimpse of sodden dark gray fur—Stormfur—beside him, before the waves sent them crashing down on hard ground.

The breath driven out of him, Brambleclaw scrabbled among the rolling pebbles while the shallow, sucking water threatened to drag him back again. Squirrelpaw, still gripping his shoulder, pulled him up, and he felt another cat give him a shove from behind. At last he collapsed on solid rock and lay still, letting the world drift away.

A paw prodding against his flank roused him.

“Brambleclaw?” It was Squirrelpaw, sounding desperately anxious. “Brambleclaw, are you all right?”

Brambleclaw opened his mouth and let out a moan. His fur was soaked and he was ice-cold. He felt too exhausted to move; every muscle shrieked with pain, and his stomach felt distended from all the water he had swallowed. But at least he was alive.

He managed to raise his head. “I’m fine,” he rasped.

“Oh, Brambleclaw, I thought you were dead!”

As his vision cleared he could make out Squirrelpaw bending over him. He could not remember ever seeing her look so upset, not even when her father had been angry with her back in the forest. The sight of her troubled eyes urged him to make an effort: he sat up, and instantly vomited up several mouthfuls of salt water.

“I’m not dead.” He coughed. “Thanks to you. You were great, Squirrelpaw.”

“She took a huge risk.” That was Stormfur’s voice; the gray warrior was standing over Brambleclaw. With his fur plastered to his body he looked much smaller than Brambleclaw was used to. He sounded disapproving, and yet there was a glow in his eyes as he looked at Squirrelpaw. “But it was a very brave thing she did.”

“And a stupid one.” With a start of surprise Brambleclaw realized that Tawnypelt was there as well, standing close by with water washing around her paws and her eyes narrowed in anger. “What if you’d both drowned?”

“Well, we didn’t,” Squirrelpaw flashed at her.

“I could have helped.”

“With that infected bite?” Stormfur pressed his muzzle briefly against Tawnypelt’s flank. “StarClan know how you managed to get down here at all.”

“I fell, like the rest of you.” Tawnypelt’s voice was wry, and she relaxed a little as she looked at Squirrelpaw. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “You were brave. It’s just that I’m finding it hard being injured and not able to help. Like you, I… I thought we’d lost Brambleclaw for good.”

By now Brambleclaw was beginning to feel better, enough to look around and recognize the cave of his dream. He was inside it. The gaping mouth with its ring of teeth was at one end. Water washed through it in a strange, ceaseless rhythm, crashing in with a roar and then hissing out again, rolling the pebbles over the floor as it went. The rock walls were smooth and rounded. The ground sloped upward to the back of the cave, which was lost in shadows; the only light came through the mouth and from a small hole high in the roof, where Feathertail and Crowpaw were peering anxiously down.

“Are you all right?” Feathertail called.

“I’m fine.” Brambleclaw rose shakily to his paws. “I think we’ve found what we were looking for.”

“Hold on, we’re coming down,” meowed Crowpaw.

Brambleclaw almost called out an order to stay where they were—which Crowpaw would certainly have disobeyed—but when he looked more closely he could see a series of ledges and clefts in the rock wall where it would be possible to climb safely down and then to get out again. Feathertail and Crowpaw picked their way down carefully until they reached the cave floor and stood looking around, blinking.

“Do we have to stay here until midnight?” Squirrelpaw asked, raising her head from licking her damp chest fur. Her voice echoed strangely around the walls.

“I suppose—” Brambleclaw began, then stopped, his muscles tensing.

From the darkness at the back of the cave came a heavy scratching noise. A powerful, rank scent reached his nostrils.