Dawn

Chapter 23

Leafpaw padded into the cave, blinking at the gloom. The roar of the waterfall made the air tremble, and the light filtering through the sheet of tumbling water quivered on the rocky walls. A stream sparkled like frost as it trickled down the mossy rocks and ran into a pool in the cave floor. Two tunnels led away into darkness, one at each end of the back wall, and narrow claws of stone hung down from the shadowy roof far above.

Leafpaw felt the Tribe cats staring at her, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. She padded over to Squirrelpaw. “They don’t seem frightened of us.”

Squirrelpaw blinked. “Why should they be? We hardly look threatening, as thin as we are. And besides, there are no other cats around here. Now that Sharptooth is dead, the only enemies the Tribe knows are eagles.”

“I’d forgotten about Sharptooth,” Leafpaw mewed. “All this would have been so much worse if he were still prowling the mountains.”

“Yes,” Squirrelpaw agreed, her gaze softening. “When Feathertail died, she did more than save the Tribe. She helped to protect us, too.”

As her eyes adjusted, Leafpaw began to pick out individual shapes, some lithe and sleek, others well muscled and broad shouldered. Yet they were all smaller than the Clan cats—even WindClan—leaner, with broad heads and slender necks.

The kits playing outside the entrance to one of the tunnels stopped and gazed at the Clan cats as they filed into the cave, their eyes wide and curious. A gray-and-white queen padded over to Leafpaw and sniffed her pelt.

“This is Wing,” Squirrelpaw explained. “She looked after Tawnypelt last time we were here, when she was sick from a rat bite.”

The Tribe queen dipped her head. “Stoneteller said you were coming,” she meowed. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting told him that old friends would return and bring new friends with them.”

Despite her tiredness and hunger, Leafpaw’s fur prickled with curiosity. “How did he know?” she whispered to Squirrelpaw.

“Stoneteller shares with the Tribe’s ancestors like you do with StarClan,” Squirrelpaw replied quietly.

Talon padded over. “There’s caught-prey here,” he offered, flicking his tail toward a pile of fresh-kill.

Leafpaw blinked. “Surely there can’t be enough to share with us all?”

“Eat.” Talon flicked his tail once more to the pile of fresh-kill. “Crag is organizing a hunt. There will soon be enough.”

The smell of rabbit rising from the fresh-kill pile made Leafpaw’s stomach growl, but she couldn’t eat until she knew the rest of the Clan was all right. Dipping her head respectfully, she left Squirrelpaw with her mountain friends and found Cinderpelt among the other medicine cats gathered near the entrance.

“A cat called Crag said we can use the nests over there.”

Cinderpelt gestured to a cluster of shallow scoops in the earth floor, lined with moss and feathers.

“Will there be enough room?” Littlecloud wondered.

“The coldest and weakest can use the nests,” Barkface suggested. “The rest must sleep where they can find space. At least we’re safe from the snow and wind in here.”

“And there’s food.” Leafpaw nodded toward the pile of fresh-kill. Some of the Tribe cats were already taking pieces of prey and bringing them over to the Clans. Talon dropped a rabbit at Mudclaw’s paws. The WindClan deputy looked at it with hungry eyes and nodded a curt thanks to the cave-guard before taking the rabbit to his queens and apprentices.

“We should get the kits into nests to warm up,” Mothwing mewed.

Leafpaw joined the other medicine cats as they began to usher the youngest cats and their mothers toward the soft hollows in the cave floor. As she helped to settle Tallpoppy and her kits into a nest, a long-bodied Tribe tom padded toward her. His fur was so streaked with mud she could not make out the color of his pelt. Only the white whiskers around his muzzle betrayed his age.

“Who among you is healer?” he asked.

Startled, Leafpaw looked back at him. Squirrelpaw had told her that the same cat was both healer and leader among the Tribe. Which did he wish to meet? She glanced toward Cinderpelt, but she was busy examining Dawnflower’s kits.

“I’ll take you to meet Firestar,” she decided. She led him to where her father stood in quiet discussion with the other Clan leaders.

“We must not stay long,” Blackstar was muttering. “The snows will only get worse.” He looked around as Leafpaw approached.

“This is Stoneteller.” Leafpaw dipped her head and backed away.

“You are healer?” Stoneteller asked Firestar.

“I’m leader of ThunderClan,” he replied. “Cinderpelt is our Clan healer.” He flicked his tail toward Cinderpelt, who was watching them with interest from the other side of the cave. “This is Blackstar, Leopardstar, and Tallstar.” Firestar nodded to the three leaders in turn.

“You are all leaders?”

“Yes, we are,” Leopardstar meowed.

Stoneteller’s gaze rested on Tallstar, whose eyes were half-closed with exhaustion. “You are not well,” he meowed. “We give you herbs.” He glanced over his shoulder, catching the eye of a gray tabby she-cat. “Bird, bring strengthening herbs.”

The tabby slipped away down one of the tunnels.

“The Tribe is grateful to your friends for killing Sharptooth.

To Feathertail most of all. Her spirit will always be remembered by us.”

“She had her father’s courage,” Firestar agreed, and Leafpaw winced to hear the grief still raw in his voice when he thought of Graystripe.

“You must eat and rest,” Stoneteller went on.

“But after that we must continue our journey,” Blackstar meowed.

Stoneteller dipped his head. “We would not delay you.”

Bird returned with a mouthful of herbs and laid them in front of Tallstar.

Leafpaw felt her whiskers twitch with curiosity. “What herbs are those?”

Stoneteller’s amber eyes gleamed in the half-light.

“I am learning to be a healer,” Leafpaw explained quickly.

“I know the herbs of the forest, but in the mountains…” She paused. “Everything is so different here.”

“I hope she isn’t bothering you.” Cinderpelt’s soft mew sounded beside them. “She’s very inquisitive.”

“Inquisitive is good in a healer,” Stoneteller rasped. “She will learn much.” He blinked kindly at Leafpaw. “The herbs are ragwort and lamb’s ears. Good for strength.”

“May I see some later, so I can recognize them if I find them again?”

“Of course.” Leafpaw felt warmth in this wise old cat’s voice, and she longed to learn from him, to understand the differences between Tribe and Clan. “Wing said you knew we were coming,” she meowed. “Is that true?”

Stoneteller nodded. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting showed me.”

“Do you share dreams with your ancestors?” Cinderpelt asked.

“Share dreams?” he echoed. “No, I interpret the signs of rock and leaf and water, and know that this is the voice of the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

“Cinderpelt interprets signs for our Clan,” Leafpaw mewed eagerly. “Signs sent by StarClan. She’s teaching me how to read them too.”

“She has a natural talent for it,” Cinderpelt added.

“Then perhaps she would like to see the Cave of Pointed Stones,” Stoneteller suggested.

“Cave of Pointed Stones?” Leafpaw echoed. “Is that like our Moonstone?”

“I do not know your Moonstone,” murmured Stoneteller as he turned toward one of the dark tunnels that led from the cave. “If it is the place where the voices of your ancestors speak loudest, then yes, it is like your Moonstone.”

Her tail twitching with excitement, Leafpaw padded after Cinderpelt and Stoneteller down the narrow passage. She wondered if they would have to travel as far down into the darkness of the earth as they did to reach the Moonstone; but within a few tail-lengths the passage opened out into another cave, sealed by walls of slippery rock.

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Leafpaw peered around. It was much smaller than the main cave, but many more stone claws reached down from the roof, and some stretched up from the ground. A few had joined together, like paws meeting, and in the pale light that seeped from a gap in the roof, Leafpaw saw that they glistened with water, which trickled down into pools on the hard stone floor.

Stoneteller touched one of the pools with his paw and sent ripples flashing across it. “The snow will melt, and these pools will grow, and when starlight shines I will see in them what the Tribe of Endless Hunting wishes me to know.”

“How often do you share with the Tribe of Endless Hunting?” Cinderpelt asked.

“When the pools form,” Stoneteller replied.

“We meet at half-moon to share with StarClan…”

Leafpaw found her gaze drifting around the cave. She padded away from where Cinderpelt and Stoneteller were exchanging experiences and weaved among the stone claws until they were hidden from sight. Her paws felt heavy, and tiredness weighed on her pelt like water. She lay down on the damp stone floor and rested her nose upon her paws, mesmerized by the glitter of water dripping from stone. She closed her eyes. StarClan? Are you here?

Her mind swirled with the sound of rushing water. At the very edge of her thoughts, she heard the roaring of a lion and saw the rippling of shadowy pelts—pelts she did not recognize. Who are you? she asked desperately. Voices breathed back to her, speaking words she did not understand. Panic flooded Leafpaw, and she blinked open her eyes.

StarClan was not here. She could hear only the voices of the Tribe’s ancestors. Leafpaw had never felt so alone in her life.

Though Leafpaw begged her father to let another cat take her place, Firestar insisted she sleep beside Cinderpelt in one of the feather-lined nests on the cave floor.

“The Clan needs its medicine cats now more than ever,” he told her. “You must rest well.”

How could she rest? It was all she could do to lick her ruffled, dirty fur. She just hoped Cinderpelt had not noticed the alarm in her eyes after visiting the Pointed Stones. What will we do without StarClan? The thought raced around her mind like a mouse trapped in its hole.

Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw were already asleep, curled up together near the back of the cave. As Leafpaw kneaded the soft feathers beside Cinderpelt, she saw Brook slip out of the cave, followed by Crowpaw and Stormfur. “Where are they going?” she whispered to Cinderpelt.

“They’re going to sit vigil for Feathertail,” Cinderpelt murmured, closing her eyes.

Leafpaw settled down beside her mentor and tucked her tail over her nose. She wondered which ancestors Feathertail hunted with now. She pressed close to Cinderpelt, seeking comfort from her warm gray fur. How could she sleep knowing that StarClan had not come with them on this journey?

But she was exhausted, and as soon as she closed her eyes, she felt sleep draw her in.

A shining expanse of water spread before her, its indigo surface glittering with stars. Nothing stirred. Even the wind was still. Leafpaw watched the water, too scared look up in case the stars she saw reflected on the water were just an illusion. What if the sky was empty? It would be yet another sign that StarClan weren’t here.

Suddenly a breath of wind ruffled her fur. Leafpaw stared into the darkness, her fur quivering. A cat was speaking to her, so softly she could barely hear. She lifted her nose. The wind carried a familiar scent, too faint for her to be sure which cat it belonged to.

“Who’s there?” she cried.

The wind blew harder, swelling the sound of the whispering voice until Leafpaw could just make out what it was saying: “Wherever you go, we will search for you.”

Leafpaw turned to see the gentle face of Spottedleaf beside her. The tortoiseshell medicine cat’s eyes glimmered, reflecting the starry waters, but her body shivered like a heat haze, no more solid than the stars in the water.

“You haven’t left us!” Leafpaw breathed.

But Spottedleaf did not answer. The wind dropped and she faded into shadow.

“You’re cheerful today,” Cinderpelt mewed. She looked up at Leafpaw, who was sitting beside her, washing in the early morning light that shone through the waterfall.

Leafpaw stopped washing. “I had a dream,” she confessed.

Cinderpelt sat up. “Did StarClan speak to you?”

Leafpaw blinked. Would Cinderpelt be offended that Star Clan had chosen an apprentice for their message, and not ThunderClan’s medicine cat? “I’m sorry,” she began.

“Perhaps they came when I was sleeping and you were awake, and that’s why they chose me—”

Cinderpelt cut her off with the gentlest touch of her tail on Leafpaw’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Leafpaw,” she mewed. “I’ve always known that you have a bond with StarClan that is stronger than anything I’ve seen before. It’s a great responsibility, and I’m very proud of how you cope with it.”

Leafpaw gazed at her, searching for words to express her relief and gratitude.

“What was the dream?” Cinderpelt prompted.

“It was very faint,” Leafpaw warned her. “But I know for certain that StarClan is still watching us, and I believe they will be with us wherever we are going.”

Firestar padded over, his fiery coat glowing almost white in the watery light.

“Are we leaving?” Cinderpelt asked.

Firestar shook his head. “It snowed all night, and Stoneteller says there’s more on the way. The Tribe is organizing a hunt so we’ll have enough fresh-kill to last out the bad weather.”

“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” Leafpaw mewed in alarm.

“For now.” Firestar watched Blackstar pacing back and forth in front of the cave entrance. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“Leafpaw!” Sorreltail bounded over. “Do you want to come hunting with some of the Tribe?” She glanced at Firestar. “If that’s okay?”

Firestar turned to Cinderpelt. “Can you spare her?”

“Yes, of course,” Cinderpelt answered.

“Thanks,” Leafpaw mewed. After living in the forest it felt strange to be cooped up in the gloomy cave, and despite the cold she welcomed the feeling of fresh air in her fur.

She followed Sorreltail over to Talon and Crag. Brook was with them, with Stormfur at her side. Leafpaw was startled to see how different Stormfur looked. His fur was streaked with mud, just like the Tribe cats’, and there was a toughness in his muscles that made him look more like a member of the Tribe than the skinny Clan cats.

“I hope they’re not going to slow us down,” Crag muttered to Brook and Talon. “We’ve got too many mouths to feed.”

“Of course they won’t slow us down,” Brook mewed.

“Stormfur was becoming a good prey-hunter by the time he left.”

“I suppose he wasn’t bad,” Crag conceded. He glanced at Leafpaw. “You’re an apprentice, right? What are you hoping to be? A prey-hunter or a cave-guard?”

Leafpaw stared at him, not understanding.

“The Tribe divides its duties,” Stormfur explained. “The cave-guards protect the Tribe; the prey-hunters feed them.

Brook is a prey-hunter and Crag is a cave-guard.”

“Then why are you coming hunting?” Leafpaw asked Crag hesitantly.

Crag let out an unexpected purr of amusement. “Who’s going to watch the skies while you’ve got your eye on the prey?” he asked, and Leafpaw remembered with a shudder the eagle that had attacked the Clan. She felt a prickle of resentment at Crag’s superior attitude, but resisted the urge to tell him she was an apprentice medicine cat; to a Tribe cat, that might sound as if she were claiming to be a leader.

“In the forest we could scent for danger and hunt at the same time,” Sorreltail mewed.

“Really? Well, how do you scent an eagle flying a mountain’s height above your head?” Crag retorted.

“Come on,” Brook meowed impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”

She led the way out from behind the waterfall and along a ledge that led them up among the peaks. The blizzard had died away, but the thick snow soon froze Leafpaw’s feet. The air was so cold, it almost hurt to breathe, and her eyes started to stream as soon as they left the warmth of the cave. But there was no way she was going to complain; she wanted to prove to Crag that forest cats could handle anything the mountain cats could. She stifled a shiver and glanced up.

Heavy yellow clouds nested on the mountaintops, promising more snow.

As they neared a stunted thornbush, its branches weighed down with fresh snow, Brook stopped and crouched low. Crag and Stormfur flanked her, ducking down as well. Leafpaw copied them, pressing her belly flat against the snow beside Sorreltail. Brook stared at the bush, her nose twitching as though she scented prey.

Leafpaw sniffed. The smell of rabbit wafted past her on the breeze. Instinctively she started to creep forward.

“Stop!” Stormfur warned her with a hiss. “Wait and watch how Brook does it.”

Brook was as still as ice, only the faintest lift of her mud-streaked flank showing that she wasn’t a rock embedded in the snow. Just when Leafpaw began to think she would turn into an icicle if she stayed still any longer, a young rabbit hopped from under the bush, testing the air with its quivering nose.

It hopped closer, not seeing the cats flat against the snow.

Leafpaw opened her mouth. The prey-scent was still strong near the bush, which was odd if the rabbit had come out into the open. Perhaps the rabbit had been sheltering there for a long time. Suddenly Brook shot forward and lunged at the rabbit. She caught it in her jaws and killed it with merciful speed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Leafpaw noticed the bush tremble. She darted forward just as a second rabbit fled across the snow. It raced toward a rocky outcrop, but Leafpaw was fast—and hungry—and caught it before it could escape.

“Well spotted!” Brook congratulated her with a warm purr.

“I could smell two scents,” Leafpaw panted.

Crag stared at her in surprise. “You smelled both rabbits at the same time?”

“We’re used to the forest with all its plants and prey,” she mewed, trying to explain. “The air up here is clearer; the scents are not so cluttered. It’s easy to spot different smells.”

Sorreltail blinked proudly at her, and Stormfur gave a small nod. Crag dipped his head in respect and, picking up one of the rabbits, led the way back to the waterfall.

Leafpaw sat near the entrance of the cave, warmed by the soft breathing of the cats around her. Dustpelt lay beside Onewhisker and Tallstar. Spiderpaw stretched out beside Crowpaw. Tallpoppy and Ferncloud shared tongues while their kits played together. Even Hawkfrost looked relaxed as he watched Mothwing grooming Morningflower’s pelt for fleas. In spite of the peaceful scene, Leafpaw felt a tremor of concern. She had never seen the Clans so comfortable around each other before, not even at Gatherings. StarClan may be waiting for them, but would there still be four Clans by the time they reached their new home?

She stared through the sheet of thundering water and saw the full moon trembling above the peaks. None of the Clan cats had mentioned that it was a full moon, and time for a Gathering. There was no need. Suddenly she heard rasping breath by her ear, and she turned to see Stoneteller looking down at her.

“You are watching the moon for signs?” he meowed.

“I was thinking of the Gatherings,” Leafpaw mewed.

“Gatherings?” Stoneteller looked puzzled.

“In the time before we left, the four Clans would meet in peace only at full moon.”

“Clans did not live in harmony?”

“Not always,” Leafpaw admitted. “Unlike you, we had clear boundaries between our hunting territories.”

Stoneteller glanced around. “Trouble has brought you together,” he observed.

“But there will always be boundaries between us,” Leafpaw insisted.

“Why? Together you find food easier.”

“There have always been four Clans. Loyalty to our own Clan makes us strong.”

“But you all share a belief in your StarClan?”

“We will all become warriors in StarClan eventually,” Leafpaw murmured. She gazed at the moon, a blurred white disk behind the falling water.

Stoneteller’s eyes glowed. “You are still a to-be, yet you are wise.”

Feeling her ears grow hot with embarrassment, Leafpaw looked away.

“We will have a gathering of our own tonight,” Stoneteller went on. He raised his voice. “Cats of the Clans and of the Tribe, we have not celebrated our deliverance from Sharptooth,” he meowed. “Instead we grieved for Feathertail, who died saving us. But tonight we shall honor the cats who came from far away and killed the terrible creature.”

Mews of agreement rose among the Tribe cats. The kits mewed with excitement, and the boldest of them padded over to where Tallpoppy’s kits played with Birchkit.

“Come and share with us,” the Tribe kit offered.

Birchkit glanced at his mother, who nodded, her eyes shining with warmth. Tallpoppy and Dawnflower quickly gave their approval, and the Clan kits wasted no time in following the Tribe kit across the cave.

One by one, the Tribe cats got to their paws and took a piece of fresh-kill from the pile. They placed each piece solemnly at the paws of a Clan cat until every cat had been served. The Clan cats watched and waited, unsure what to do.

Leafpaw’s eyes widened in surprise as Crag dropped a rabbit at her paws.

“May I share with you?” he asked.

She nodded shyly.

Stoneteller padded to the center of the cave. “We feast in honor of Feathertail,” he declared. “Her spirit will live forever in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. We honor too the cats who refused to desert us and returned to fulfill the prophecy of our ancestors.” He dipped his head in turn to Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, Tawnypelt, Crowpaw, and Stormfur, who each straightened proudly.

“Now let us eat!” Stoneteller called, his mew echoing around the cave.

Crag took a bite from the rabbit he had laid on the ground and then pushed it over to Leafpaw. Guessing this was a custom of the Tribe, she took a bite and passed it back to him.

Back in the forest, the cats had shared food too, but there was usually enough fresh-kill for each cat to have a whole piece each. She wondered if the Tribe’s formal sharing ritual arose from the scarcity of prey in the mountains.

After the meal, the cats lay, full-bellied, and quietly shared tongues. Tallstar limped to the center of the cave and gazed around at the cats until they fell silent. Onewhisker crept to his side, supporting the WindClan leader’s frail body with his own.

“Who’s that skinny old raven?” mewed a Tribe kit.

“Hush!” His mother cuffed him sharply. “That’s a very noble Clan leader!”

But though he had to lean on the young warrior, Tallstar’s eyes shone with as much strength and determination as a leader on his first life, rather than his last. “Crowpaw?”

The WindClan apprentice looked up, bewildered.

“Crowpaw has served his Clan with bravery and loyalty.”

Tallstar’s voice cracked as he stifled a cough. “He should have received his warrior name long ago,” he rasped. “But the tragedies of the past moons have prevented this. Tonight, if Stoneteller will do me the kindness of letting a Clan ceremony into his Tribe’s home, I wish to honor Crowpaw’s great skill and courage by giving him his warrior name.”

Murmurs of agreement rose from the WindClan cats, but they turned to mews of surprise as Crowpaw stepped forward. This wasn’t part of the warrior naming ceremony.

“May I ask something, Tallstar?” he mewed.

Tallstar narrowed his eyes and nodded for him to go on.

“I would like to choose my own warrior name. If it is all right, I wish to be known as Crowfeather.” Crowpaw spoke so quietly, his voice was almost lost in the pounding water. “I wish to keep alive the memory of… of the cat who did not return from the first journey.”

Stormfur’s ears flicked, and he stared down at his paws.

There was a long pause; then Tallstar announced, “A noble request. Very well. I name you Crowfeather. May StarClan protect you and accept you as a WindClan warrior in life as well as after.”

The WindClan cats jumped up and went over to congratulate their Clanmate.

“That was a brilliant idea!” Squirrelpaw bounded over to Crowfeather’s side. Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur joined her.

“It’s a great name,” Tawnypelt agreed as Brambleclaw wound his lean body around Crowfeather, purring. Stormfur touched his muzzle to Crowfeather’s flank as if he were too moved to speak.

“Thank you,” Crowfeather murmured. He gazed past them at the waterfall, turned silver by the light of the moon.

“I will sit my vigil tonight beside Feathertail’s grave.”

Leafpaw watched as he slipped away from his friends and Clanmates and padded out of the cave.

“So he’s a warrior now, yes?” Crag asked her, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“Yes.” Leafpaw got to her paws. “Thank you for sharing with me,” she murmured. The lonely moon called her from the crowded den, and she longed to search the clear sky for Silverpelt.

Padding out from behind the waterfall, she scrambled up the rocks and sat high above the pool where the tumbling water foamed and surged. The stars glittered overhead as Leafpaw gazed down to where Crowfeather sat vigil. He was sitting with his head bowed beside the low mound of rocks that marked Feathertail’s grave. Was she really with the Tribe of Endless Hunting rather than StarClan? Make her welcome, whoever you are, Leafpaw begged silently.

She watched Crowfeather for a moment, her heart aching for his loss. Then she lifted her head and stared around the peaks, wondering if StarClan watched him too. There was a tranquillity in this high place she had not felt since she lay beneath the trees in the forest. In the bright moonlight, something caught her eye on a small ledge opposite the cave entrance, and Leafpaw thought she saw two silver pelts glowing beneath the stars. She was almost certain that two cats stood there, looking down at Crowfeather; one was slightly taller than the other, but their pelts were marked by the same mottled shadows, as though they were kin.

Feathertail and Silverstream?

Leafpaw blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the silver cats had vanished.