Dawn

Chapter 4

“Sunningrocks was the safest place to hide,” Cinderpelt told them as she weaved through the bracken.

Squirrelpaw was surprised. “But there’s so little shelter there!” Sunningrocks was a wide stone slope near the RiverClan border, bare of trees or bushes except for a few scrubby tufts of grass. Aware that Stormfur was only a few pawsteps behind, Squirrelpaw lowered her voice. “And what about RiverClan? They’ve tried to claim it as their territory before—wasn’t Firestar afraid they might attack the Clan?”

“RiverClan has made no threats lately,” Cinderpelt replied. “Sunningrocks is as far from the Twolegs and their tree-destroying monsters as we could get within our territory, and close to what little prey is left in the forest.”

Despite her limp, she led them quickly through the forest, but Squirrelpaw noticed that the medicine cat’s scrawny flanks heaved with the effort. She glanced at Brambleclaw.

He was watching Cinderpelt too, his eyes narrowed with concern.

“We’re in much better shape than she is,” Squirrelpaw whispered to him.

“Our journey has made us stronger,” Brambleclaw commented.

Squirrelpaw felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt that their long and difficult journey had kept them safer and better fed than the cats they left behind. The sun was sinking in a clear blue sky, and a chill wind swayed the branches above them, tugging at the last stubborn leaves. She paused, listening. A few birds chirped a muted chorus, but in the distance she heard monsters all the time, humming like angry bees. Their sticky stench hung in the air and clung to her fur, and Squirrelpaw realized that she had returned to a forest that no longer smelled or sounded like home. It had become another place, one where cats could not survive. No place left for cats. You stay, monsters tear you too, or you starve with no prey. Midnight’s prophecy was already coming true.

The pale gray bulk of Sunningrocks loomed beyond the trees, and Squirrelpaw made out the shapes of cats moving over the stone.

A yowl startled her, and she saw white and ginger fur flashing through the undergrowth. A heartbeat later, Sorreltail and Brackenfur burst out of the bushes in front of them.

“I thought I could smell a familiar scent,” Sorreltail meowed breathlessly.

Squirrelpaw stared at the two warriors. They were as disheveled as Cinderpelt, and beside her, Brambleclaw’s eyes were wide with shock as his gaze flicked over their gaunt bodies.

“We didn’t think you were coming back,” Brackenfur meowed.

“Of course we were coming back!” Squirrelpaw protested.

“Where have you been?” Sorreltail demanded.

“A long way away,” Stormfur murmured. “Farther than any forest cat has ever been.”

Brackenfur glared suspiciously at the RiverClan warrior.

“Are you on your way home?”

“I need to talk to Graystripe first.”

Brackenfur narrowed his eyes.

“Let him come,” Cinderpelt advised. “These cats have a lot to tell us.”

Brackenfur’s whiskers twitched, but he dipped his head and turned to lead the way through the trees toward the rocks.

“Come on,” Sorreltail mewed, padding after Brackenfur.

“The others will want to see you.”

Squirrelpaw fell into step beside her, trying to ignore the anxiety that gnawed her stomach like hunger pangs. It was starting to look as if their journey had been in vain, and hearing what Midnight had to tell them had come too late to help the Clans. She prayed that the dying warrior’s sign would be enough to save them. Glancing sideways at Sorreltail, she saw that the tortoiseshell warrior’s tail was drooping and her gaze rested wearily on the ground.

“Cinderpelt told me about Leafpaw,” Squirrelpaw murmured.

“I couldn’t do anything to save her,” Sorreltail answered dully. “I don’t know where they’ve taken her. I wanted to look, but we moved camp the next day, and there hasn’t been a chance.” She paused and looked at Squirrelpaw, her eyes flashing with desperate hope. “Did you see her while you were traveling? Do you know where she is?”

Squirrelpaw’s heart twisted. “No, we haven’t seen her.”

The strong, familiar scent of ThunderClan filled the air.

Squirrelpaw longed to rush forward to greet her Clanmates, but instinct warned her to approach them warily. She stood still for a moment, hoping that her thudding heart couldn’t be heard by every cat on Sunningrocks.

The smooth stone slope, lined with gullies and small hollows, rose ahead of her. Trees bordered one side, and at the far edge, where the slope fell steeply away, Squirrelpaw could see the tips of more trees, following the river as far as Fourtrees—or the place where Fourtrees had been. The cold stone, blasted by the leaf-bare winds, was a chilly resting place for the Clan. Squirrelpaw looked at Sorreltail’s paws and saw dried blood staining the white fur around her claws.

She remembered how the rocks in the mountains had grazed her own paws while they were staying with the Tribe of Rushing Water.

There was no central clearing here for cats to gather, as there had been in the ravine. Instead, the cats were huddled in small groups; Squirrelpaw spotted the dark pelt of her mentor, Dustpelt, sheltering beneath an overhang, with Mousefur next to him. He seemed much smaller than when she had left, his bony shoulders jutting out from beneath his ungroomed fur. Frostfur and Speckletail, two of the Clan elders, were crouched in the deepest gully. Even in the shadows, Squirrelpaw could see that their pelts were matted and dull, speckled with scraps of moss and dried mud. Farther down, where the gully widened, the pale gray shape of Dustpelt’s mate, Ferncloud, was hunched over her two remaining kits.

“It’s more sheltered down there,” Cinderpelt explained, following Squirrelpaw’s gaze. “But the queens still feel very exposed after being used to a nursery made of brambles. The apprentices make their nests in that hollow over there,” she went on, lifting her muzzle to point at a dip in the rocks.

Squirrelpaw recognized the brown fur of Shrewpaw, one of Ferncloud’s first litter, fluffed up against the cold.

Squirrelpaw glanced at Brambleclaw, who gave her a tiny nod, but there was anxiety behind his eyes, and his shoulders were tense as he began to pad up the slope. Nervously she followed him. As she passed Ferncloud, the queen looked up at her, and her green eyes darkened with anger.

Squirrelpaw flinched. Did the Clan blame them for what had happened?

Some of the other cats had spotted them too. Thornclaw heaved himself out of a gully near the top of the slope, flattening his ears; with a menacing hiss, Rainwhisker padded from a crevice at the edge of the rocks. The dark gray warrior’s eyes gleamed, but not with any warmth or welcome for the returning cats.

Stormfur was scanning the rocks for Graystripe. Squirrelpaw followed his gaze, but there was no sign of the gray ThunderClan deputy, or of her own father. She fought down the urge to turn tail and flee back to the forest, back to the mountains even. She miserably met Brambleclaw’s gaze.

“They don’t want us here,” she whispered.

“They’ll understand once we’ve explained,” he promised.

Squirrelpaw hoped he was right.

The sound of rapid pawsteps behind them made her spin around, startled. A pale gray warrior, Ashfur, skidded to a halt in front of her. She searched his eyes, afraid to find rage, but there was only surprise.

“You came back!” He held his tail high and reached out his muzzle to touch hers in greeting.

Squirrelpaw felt a rush of relief. At least one cat seemed glad they had returned.

Shrewpaw scrambled out of his hollow and raced across the rock toward them, with Whitepaw close behind.

“Shrewpaw!” Squirrelpaw cried, trying to sound as if she’d been no farther than Highstones, and for no more than a couple of sunrises. “How’s the training going?”

“We’ve been working hard,” Shrewpaw answered breathlessly as he reached her.

Whitepaw halted beside him. “We would have seen our first Gathering if the Twolegs hadn’t destroyed Four—”

Ashfur shot the white she-cat a warning glance. “They won’t have heard about that yet,” he hissed.

“It’s okay,” Brambleclaw put in. “We know about Fourtrees.

Webfoot told us.”

“Webfoot?” Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “Have you been on WindClan territory?”

“We had to travel back that way,” Squirrelpaw explained.

“Back from where?” meowed Shrewpaw, but Squirrelpaw didn’t answer. She had seen Dustpelt and Mousefur emerging from their makeshift den. Sootfur crept out from a hollow beside them. All the warriors were moving closer now, like ghosts slipping through the shadows. Squirrelpaw stifled a shiver as they padded down the rock. She backed away, brushing against Brambleclaw’s pelt and feeling Stormfur edge closer, equally wary. It reminded her of their first meeting with the cats from the Tribe of Rushing Water. Fear stabbed Squirrelpaw’s heart as she realized that it was not just the forest that had changed. Her own Clan was different, too.

“So? Where did you go?” growled a distinctive voice.

Frostfur had climbed out of the elders’ gully above them. The old she-cat had lost much of the sleekness from her snow-white pelt, but Squirrelpaw still flinched under her icy stare.

“We’ve been on a long journey,” Brambleclaw began.

“You don’t look like it!” Ferncloud had left her kits and pushed her way to the front. “You look better fed than us.”

Squirrelpaw tried not to feel guilty about the amount of fresh-kill she had caught on the journey. “Ferncloud, I heard about Larchkit, and I’m sorry…”

Ferncloud was in no mood to listen. “How do we know you didn’t just desert the Clan because you couldn’t face a hungry leaf-bare with the rest of us?” she hissed.

Squirrelpaw heard Mousefur and Thornclaw mew in agreement, but this time anger overcame her fear. “How could you think such a thing?” she spat, her fur bristling.

“Well, your loyalty clearly lies outside the Clan!” growled Mousefur, staring at Stormfur.

“Our loyalty has always been to the Clan,” Brambleclaw replied evenly. “That’s why we left.”

“Then what’s a RiverClan warrior doing with you?”

Dustpelt demanded.

“He has some news for Graystripe,” Brambleclaw meowed.

“He’ll leave as soon as he’s spoken to him.”

“He’ll leave now,” Mousefur hissed, taking one pace forward.

Cinderpelt stepped between Mousefur and Brambleclaw.

“Tell them about StarClan’s prophecy,” she urged.

“A prophecy? StarClan has spoken?” Squirrelpaw’s Clanmates stared at her and Brambleclaw like hungry foxes.

“We must tell Firestar first,” Squirrelpaw mewed quietly.

“Where’s Firestar?” Brambleclaw called out.

“He’s away hunting.” It was Sandstorm’s voice.

Squirrelpaw waited breathlessly, half-joyful and half-anxious, as the ginger she-cat padded toward her daughter and stopped a tail-length away to stare at her.

“We’re back.” Squirrelpaw searched her mother’s expression for some sign of welcome.

“You’re back,” Sandstorm echoed wonderingly.

“We had to leave. StarClan gave us no choice.”

Brambleclaw defended Squirrelpaw, and she was grateful for the warmth of his flank as he pressed closer. She wanted to confess to her mother that StarClan had not sent the dreams to her, and that she had insisted on going along with Brambleclaw even though he had been reluctant to take her away from the Clan, but fear made the words stick in her throat.

Then Sandstorm’s whiskers quivered and she bounded forward. “One of my kits has returned!” she mewed, rubbing her cheek against Squirrelpaw’s with fierce love.

She felt a rush of relief. “I’m sorry I left without telling you, but—”

“You’re back,” Sandstorm meowed. “That’s all I care about.” Her warm breath grazed Squirrelpaw’s muzzle. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

Squirrelpaw heard a soft purr trembling in her mother’s throat. It reminded her of when she was a kit, curled in the nursery, her sister at her side. Oh, Leafpaw! Where are you?

A deep meow interrupted them. “It seems that I have my apprentice back,” Dustpelt commented. He was as gaunt and hunted-looking as the other warriors, but his eyes were filled with warmth as he came over to greet her.

“Wherever you have been, you ate well,” he remarked, his eyes widening as he looked at Squirrelpaw’s sturdy muscles and glossy coat.

The tip of Brambleclaw’s tail twitched. “We were lucky.

There was plenty of fresh-kill where we traveled.”

“Fresh-kill is what we need more than anything,” mewed Dustpelt. “If you have found good hunting, the Clan should know where.”

“It’s a long way away,” Brambleclaw warned.

Dustpelt flicked his ears. “Then it is not for us,” he meowed.

“We have made our home here. We will not let the Twolegs and their monsters drive us out again.” A faint, defiant ripple of agreement sounded from the other cats.

Squirrelpaw stared at them in horror. But they had to leave! Midnight had told them that the Clans would have to find a new home—the dying warrior was going to show them the way—and Squirrelpaw had assumed that the fact that ThunderClan had been driven out of their camp would make the task of persuading them to leave a little easier.

Then she saw a figure on top of the rock, silhouetted against the rosy evening sky. Even though the shadows made it impossible to tell what color the cat’s pelt was, there was no mistaking the powerful shoulders and the long tail held aloft in greeting.

“Firestar!” Squirrelpaw called.

“Squirrelpaw!” Firestar bounded down the rock, then halted. His whiskers twitched for a heartbeat before he thrust his head forward and licked Squirrelpaw’s ear. She closed her eyes and purred, briefly forgetting the horror that was engulfing the forest. She was home, and that was all that mattered.

Firestar stepped back. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

“We’ve got so much to tell you,” she answered quickly.

“We?” Firestar echoed. “Is Brambleclaw with you?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Brambleclaw pushed his way through the cats and stood beside Squirrelpaw, dipping his head in respect. The rest of the Clan waited, their eyes glinting in the half-light, and even the wind dropped, as if the forest were holding its breath.

“Welcome home, Brambleclaw.” Squirrelpaw thought she saw a guarded look in her father’s eyes, and she felt a chill run through her.

A flurry of gray fur caught her eye, no more than a shadow flitting down the darkening slope. It was Graystripe. He skidded to a halt beside Firestar. “So, fire and tiger have returned!” he purred.

“Fire and tiger?” Squirrelpaw echoed. What did Graystripe mean?

“There’s time to tell them about that later,” Firestar murmured, his gaze flicking around the watching Clan.

“Oh, of course,” Graystripe meowed, dipping his head.

Then his eyes brightened once more. “Have you seen my two kits?” He glanced hopefully from Squirrelpaw to Brambleclaw.

Squirrelpaw nodded. “They went with us,” she explained.

“Stormfur—”

“I’m here.” Stormfur pushed his way through the cats.

Graystripe’s ears twitched in surprise and pleasure.

“Stormfur!” He hurried forward and greeted his son with delighted purrs. “You’re safe!” He glanced back at Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “You’re all safe. I can’t believe it.”

Squirrelpaw’s heart tightened.

“Where’s Feathertail?” Graystripe’s gaze flicked past Stormfur as if he expected to see the pale-gray she-cat waiting at the foot of the rocks.

Squirrelpaw stared at her paws. Poor, poor Stormfur.

He brought the worst news of all, to RiverClan as well as ThunderClan.

“Where is she?” Graystripe asked, sounding puzzled.

“She’s not with us,” Stormfur replied. He looked directly into his father’s eyes. “She died on the journey.”

Graystripe stared at him in disbelief.

Firestar lifted his chin. “Graystripe and Stormfur should be left to grieve in peace,” he called to the Clan.

Squirrelpaw felt a ripple of gratitude toward her father. At least they could explain everything to Graystripe away from the scrutiny of the others. As Firestar guided their Clanmates away up the slope, she pressed closer to Brambleclaw.

Graystripe was gazing at the rock beneath his paws as though he held an adder there and dared not release it in case it bit him.

“We couldn’t have saved her,” Stormfur told him. He gently nudged his father’s shoulder with his nose.

Graystripe swung his head toward Brambleclaw. “You should never have taken her away!” His eyes gleamed with anger.

Squirrelpaw flicked her tail. “It’s not his fault! It was StarClan who chose Feathertail to go on the journey, not Brambleclaw!”

Graystripe closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged until he looked half his usual size. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s just so unfair. She was so much like Silverstream…”

As his voice trailed away, Stormfur laid his muzzle against Graystripe’s flank. “Feathertail died a brave and noble death, worthy of the greatest warrior,” he told him. “StarClan chose her to go on the journey, and then the Tribe of Endless Hunting chose her to fulfill a prophecy of their own. You would have been proud of her. She saved us all, not just the Tribe.”

“The Tribe?” Graystripe echoed.

Squirrelpaw could hear the other cats milling about farther up the slope. Their murmuring grew louder and more impatient until Firestar silenced them, his voice ringing across the rock. “I know you all want to hear where Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw have been,” he meowed. “Let them tell me first; then I promise I will share everything with you.”

“I want to hear why my apprentice left,” Dustpelt growled.

“And what about the prophecy they mentioned?” Mousefur demanded. “We have to know what it is!”

Brambleclaw put his muzzle against Squirrelpaw’s ear. “It sounds like we’d better join them.” He looked at Stormfur.

“Are you coming?”

“Thank you, Brambleclaw,” Stormfur answered, “but I’d like to go home.” He gazed at Graystripe. “They will tell you the whole story, but I wanted you to know you would have been very proud of Feathertail,” he said. “She died to save us.”

Graystripe blinked and did not reply.

Stormfur turned to Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “I know it’s going to be difficult,” he murmured, “but we have to keep going with what we know to be right. Remember what Midnight told us. We’re doing this for all our Clans.”

Brambleclaw solemnly dipped his head. Squirrelpaw leaned forward to press her muzzle against Stormfur’s cheek.

“See you tomorrow at Fourtrees,” she whispered. Her paws trembled with the pain of saying good-bye to one of her closest friends. For more than a moon she hadn’t thought of him as RiverClan and herself as ThunderClan—they were merely Clan together, struggling to finish their journey and save all the cats in the forest.

As Stormfur padded down the slope, Squirrelpaw saw Mousefur and Thornclaw staring reproachfully at her from up on the slope. She knew how disloyal her affection for the RiverClan warrior must appear, but she was too sad and too tired to bother explaining what their journey meant for the six cats who had traveled to the sun-drown-place—and the five who had made it home.

“All right,” Firestar meowed. “The senior warriors will join us to hear what Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw have to say.

And you, Cinderpelt.” He gestured with his nose to the overhang where Squirrelpaw had seen Dustpelt and Mousefur sheltering. “We’ll meet up there.”

Snorting, Mousefur turned and began to climb the slope toward the overhang. Graystripe and Dustpelt followed her.

As Firestar, Cinderpelt, and Sandstorm padded after them, Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, letting the breeze ripple her fur. She didn’t care how cold she got—in a way, the colder she was, the closer she came to sharing her Clanmates’ suffering. There wouldn’t need to be any strength in the wind for it to slice through their unkempt fur.

Suddenly she heard Thornclaw let out a low growl. She turned, alarmed, and saw Stormfur standing at the foot of the rocky slope with a plump fish in his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” snarled Thornclaw. “Don’t your own Clan want you back?”

The RiverClan warrior dropped the fish by his forepaws.

“I have brought a gift from RiverClan.”

“We don’t need your gifts!” Frostfur spat.

There was a quiet padding of paws behind Squirrelpaw, and Firestar spoke. “It was kindly meant, Frostfur.” There was a note of warning in his voice. “Thank you, Stormfur.”

Stormfur didn’t reply; he just looked up at the ThunderClan leader with his eyes full of sadness. His gaze rested briefly on Squirrelpaw; then he dipped his head and disappeared into the reeds that led down to the water, leaving the fish behind.

Squirrelpaw’s belly growled with hunger. She had not eaten since they left the Twoleg territory on the far side of the moorland.

“You’ll have to wait till later and see if you can track down a mouse or two,” Firestar meowed, hearing her belly complain. “We must feed Ferncloud and the elders first. You’re going to have to get used to hunger now that you are back with the Clan.”

Squirrelpaw nodded, trying to readjust. She had grown used to hunting when she felt hungry, sharing only with her friends.

Firestar called down to Thornclaw, “Divide the fish between Ferncloud and the elders,” before turning back toward the overhang.

As Squirrelpaw slipped beneath the jutting rock, she saw that it reached back farther than she had expected. Smooth rock shielded the sides of the cave, but a chill wind swirled through the opening, stirring the jumbled scents of many cats. Her heart ached for the order and comfort of the old camp, and she closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them again, she would see the thickly laced branches of the apprentices’ den around her instead of cold, hard stone.

“All the warriors share this den,” Dustpelt murmured in her ear, as if he had guessed what she was thinking. “There are not as many suitable sleeping places here.”

Squirrelpaw opened her eyes and looked around the hollow with rage pulsing through her paws. Twolegs had driven her Clan to this! The least she could do was lead them to a place of safety, where there would be proper sleeping places and enough fresh-kill for all the cats.

“At least there’s a little shelter,” muttered Sandstorm, although her fluffed-up fur suggested she was chilled to the bone.

Firestar sat near the back of the hollow. Sandstorm and Graystripe settled on either side of him. The ThunderClan deputy was hunched over in his private misery; Cinderpelt sat beside him, concern clouding her eyes.

“Now,” Firestar began, curling his tail over his paws. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

Squirrelpaw felt the questioning eyes of her Clanmates burn into her pelt. Brambleclaw swept his tail along her flank before facing Firestar.

“StarClan visited me in a dream and told me to go to the sun-drown-place,” he explained. “I-I didn’t know if I should believe it at first, but StarClan sent the same dream to a cat from each of the other Clans: Crowpaw of WindClan, Feathertail of RiverClan, and Tawnypelt of ShadowClan.”

Firestar tipped his head to one side as Brambleclaw went on. “We were all told to make the journey to hear what Midnight told us.”

“What midnight told you?” Dustpelt echoed, bemused.

Firestar’s green gaze rested on Squirrelpaw, and she forced herself not to duck away. “Did you have this dream too?” he asked.

“No,” she confessed. “But I had to… I wanted to go…”

She searched for the words to explain why she left, but she did not want to tell Firestar that she had been trying to escape their quarrel. She fell silent, hanging her head.

“I’m glad she came with us!” Brambleclaw burst out. “She was equal to any of the warriors!”

After what seemed like nine lifetimes, Firestar nodded.

“Carry on, Brambleclaw.”

“We headed toward the sun-drown-place, thanks to Ravenpaw’s help. He’d heard about the place of endless water from other rogue cats.”

“It was such a long way,” Squirrelpaw put in. “We thought we were lost so many times.”

“Ravenpaw told us which direction to go, but we didn’t know exactly how to get there,” Brambleclaw explained. “But StarClan had sent us, so we had to keep going.”

“Even though we didn’t know why they had sent us,” Squirrelpaw added.

Brambleclaw flexed his claws, making a tiny scraping sound on the hard floor. “We were only trying to do our duty to the Clan,” he murmured.

“A loner helped us through Twolegplace,” Squirrelpaw went on, remembering Purdy’s rather erratic sense of direction.

“And eventually we came to the sun-drown-place. It was like nothing we’d seen before,” Brambleclaw mewed. “High sandy cliffs with caves underneath, and dark blue water for as far as any cat could see, endlessly washing up and down the shore. The crashing water frightened us at first, it was so loud.”

“Then Brambleclaw fell in. I rescued him, but we were in a cave, and then we found Midnight.” Squirrelpaw’s words tumbled out incoherently.

“What do you mean, you ‘found midnight’?” Dustpelt demanded.

Brambleclaw shuffled his paws. “Midnight is a badger,” he meowed at last. “StarClan wanted us to find her because she could tell us what StarClan wanted us to know.”

“And what did she tell you?” Firestar’s ears twitched as he spoke.

“That the Twolegs would destroy the whole forest and leave us to starve,” Squirrelpaw mewed, her heart suddenly hammering as hard as the first time she had heard Midnight’s warning.

“She told us to lead you away from the forest and find a new home,” Brambleclaw added.

“New home?” Sandstorm stared at him in disbelief.

“So we should leave the forest just because a badger we’ve never heard of thinks it would be a good idea?” Dustpelt meowed.

Squirrelpaw closed her eyes. Was ThunderClan going to ignore Midnight’s warning? Had their journey and Feathertail’s death been for nothing?

“And did she say how we should find this place?” Graystripe sat up and leaned closer, the tip of his tail twitching.

Midnight’s words echoed in Squirrelpaw’s mind once more and she found herself repeating them out loud. “‘You will not be without a guide’—that’s what she said. ‘When return, stand on Great Rock when Silverpelt shines above. A dying warrior the way will show.’”

“Have you been to the Great Rock yet to look for this sign?” Firestar asked.

Brambleclaw shook his head. “We were going to meet there tomorrow with Tawnypelt, Stormfur, and Crowpaw.

We were going to bring our leaders, if we could persuade them to come…”

“Are you going to go?” Mousefur flattened her ears.

“Nothing would keep me away,” Firestar replied.

Dustpelt stared wide-eyed at his leader. “You’re not actually thinking of taking the Clan out of the forest, are you?”

“Right now, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Firestar admitted. “But I’m not sure the Clan can survive leaf-bare.”

He met Dustpelt’s stare, and for a moment Squirrelpaw saw his eyes flash. “I cannot let my Clan suffer if there’s anything I can do to prevent it. We cannot ignore this message, however it came to us. It may be our only hope of survival. If there is a sign, I want to see it for myself.”

He straightened and looked at Brambleclaw. “Tomorrow, I will go with you to Fourtrees.”