Erin Hunter - MOONRISE

Purdy blinked. “Well, if you put it like that . . .”

Feathertail darted up to him and gave his ears a quick lick. “We’ll never forget you, Purdy, or everything you’ve done for us.”

Just behind her, Crowpaw opened his mouth with his eyes narrowed, as if he was about to say something cutting. Stormfur froze him with a glare. He doubted they would see the old cat again, and although Purdy had made mistakes, he had stood by them and brought them safely to Midnight in the end.

“Goodbye, Purdy. And thank you. We could never have found Midnight without you.” Brambleclaw echoed Stormfur’s thoughts. “And thank you, too, Midnight.”

The badger inclined her head. “Farewell, my friends. May StarClan light your path.”

The rest of the cats said their own goodbyes, and began to follow Brambleclaw out on to the moor. Stormfur brought up the rear. Glancing back, he saw Midnight and Purdy sitting side by side under the outlying trees, watching them go. It was impossible to read their expressions in the gathering dusk. Stormfur waved his tail in a last farewell, and turned his face toward the mountains.

At Firestar’s yowl of command, Brackenfur and the grey ShadowClan warrior broke apart. Greystripe looked up from the tabby, but still kept a paw firmly on his neck.

“Let him go,” Firestar ordered. “We’re not here to fight.”

“It’s hard to do anything else when they jump us like that,” Greystripe hissed. He stepped back, and the skinny tabby scrambled to his paws and shook his ruffled fur.

Leafpaw bounded across the marshy ground to stand beside Cinderpelt, half afraid that Russetfur might still attack the medicine cat. ShadowClan’s deputy was not likely to take orders from the leader of a rival Clan.

Russetfur flicked her tail towards the dark grey tom. “Cedarheart, get back to camp. Warn Blackstar that we have been invaded, and fetch more warriors.”

The grey warrior streaked off into the bushes.

“There’s no need for that,” Firestar pointed out, keeping his voice mild. “We’re not invading your territory, and we’re not trying to steal prey.”

“Then what do you want?” Russetfur demanded bad-temperedly. “What are we supposed to think when you trespass on our territory?”

“I’m sorry about that.” Firestar leaped down from the tree trunk and padded across to her. “I . . . I know we shouldn’t be here. It’s just that I have to speak to Blackstar. Something has happened, something that’s too urgent to wait for the next Gathering.”

Russetfur sniffed disbelievingly, but sheathed her claws. Leafpaw felt her racing heart begin to slow down. The ShadowClan deputy was too badly outnumbered to launch another attack, especially when she had sent away the grey tom, Cedarheart.

“What’s so urgent then?” she growled.

Firestar gestured with his tail through the sparse trees, towards the swath of destruction that the Twoleg monster had left on this side of the Thunderpath. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked desperately.

Russetfur silenced him with a furious hiss. “If you think ShadowClan is weakened . . .”

“I didn’t say that,” Firestar protested. “But you must have seen that we’ve had the same trouble in our territory. Now, are you going to drive us off, or are you going to let us talk to Blackstar?”

Russetfur narrowed her eyes, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Follow me.”

She led the way through the bushes. The ThunderClan cats bunched together behind her, and the tabby ShadowClan warrior brought up the rear. Leafpaw’s heart began to pound again as the scents of the strange territory flowed around her. Even the day had grown darker, clouds covering the sun so that their path was shadowed. She tried to stop herself from jumping at every sound, or staring around as if there might be a ShadowClan warrior lurking behind every tree.

Soon Leafpaw became aware of a stronger ShadowClan scent coming from up ahead. Russetfur led the way around a thick clump of hazel; following her, Leafpaw stopped dead in front of a long line of cats—lean warriors with their muscles tensed and the light of battle in their eyes. Behind them rose a tangled wall of brambles.

“That’s the ShadowClan camp,” Cinderpelt muttered close to Leafpaw’s ear. “It doesn’t look as if Blackstar is going to invite us in.”

The ShadowClan leader stood in the middle of his warriors. He was a huge white cat with black paws; his pelt showed the scars of many battles. As the ThunderClan cats appeared he stepped forward and faced Firestar with narrowed eyes.

“What’s this?” His voice was rough. “Does the great Firestar think he can go where he likes in the forest?”

Firestar ignored the contempt in Blackstar’s tone, simply dipping his head in the courteous greeting of one leader to another. “I have come to talk to you about what the Twolegs are doing,” he began. “We have to decide what we’re going to do if it carries on.”

“We? What do you mean, we? ShadowClan does not talk with ThunderClan,” Blackstar retorted. “We make our own decisions.”

“But the forest is being destroyed!”

Leafpaw heard the exasperation in her leader’s tone, and knew how hard it was for Firestar to stay calm when the ShadowClan leader insisted on treating him like an enemy.

The ShadowClan leader shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Firestar, you’re panicking over nothing. Twolegs are mad. Even the smallest kit knows that. True, they knocked down a few trees—but now they’ve gone away again. Whatever was going on, it’s over.”

Leafpaw wondered if Blackstar really believed that. Surely he couldn’t be such a fool? Or was this just a show of bravado to convince Firestar that ShadowClan had nothing to worry about?

“And if it’s not over?” Firestar asked steadily. “If it gets worse? Prey has been frightened away from where the Twolegs have been. What if the Twolegs claw up more of our territories? What will you do in leaf-bare, Blackstar, if you can’t feed your Clan?”

One or two of the ShadowClan warriors looked uneasy, but their leader stared defiantly at Firestar.

“We have no reason to fear leaf-bare,” he meowed. “We can always eat rats from Carrionplace.”

Cinderpelt twitched her ears impatiently. “Have you forgotten what happened last time you tried that? Half your Clan died from sickness.”

“That’s true.” A small tabby tom, crouched at the end of the line, spoke up boldly. Leafpaw recognised Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I was ill myself. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you, Cinderpelt.”

“Be quiet, Littlecloud,” Blackstar ordered. “The sickness was a punishment from StarClan because Nightstar was not a properly chosen leader. There’s no danger in eating food from Carrionplace now.”

“There’s danger if a leader silences his medicine cat,” Cinderpelt retorted tartly. “Or pretends to know more than they do about the will of StarClan.”

Blackstar glared at her, but said nothing.

“Listen to me,” Firestar began again desperately. “I believe that great trouble is coming to the forest, trouble that we’ll survive only if we work together.”

“Mouse dung!” Blackstar snarled. “Don’t try to tell me what to do, Firestar. I’m not one of your warriors. If you have anything to say, you should do what we have always done, and bring it to the next Gathering at Fourtrees.”

Part of Leafpaw felt that the ShadowClan leader was right. The warrior code dictated that the business of the forest should be discussed at Gatherings. There was nowhere else that cats could meet under the sacred truce of StarClan. At the same time, she knew that the Twolegs wouldn’t wait until after the next full moon to continue their destruction of the forest. What else might happen by the time of the next Gathering?