Midnight

Chapter 20

Purdy led the forest cats along the edge of the wood. It was the day after their narrow escape from the dog, and Brambleclaw was still struggling with doubts about his decision to follow the old cat; he knew that Crowpaw and Tawnypelt were unhappy about it, too. But there seemed no other choice; more and more Twoleg nests filled the horizon, and clouds still covered the sky, so there was no sun to guide them to the sun-drown place.

“Is there any chance of more food?” he asked Purdy as they left the trees behind and began to cross a grassy space dotted with clumps of brightly colored flowers. “The fish yesterday weren’t really enough, and Crowpaw didn’t eat at all.”

“Sure, I can take you to a place,” Purdy replied with a hostile glance at Crowpaw, who had been the most outspoken in voicing his distrust of the old cat.

He led them to the other side of the grassy place, where there was yet another row of Twoleg nests. Brambleclaw watched uneasily as the old cat flattened his belly to the ground and heaved himself under a wooden gate, grunting with the effort and shaking himself vigorously on the other side.

“More Twolegs?” Crowpaw hissed. “I’m not going in there.”

“Suit yourself,” Purdy meowed, beginning to pad up the path to the door with his tail held straight up.

“We’d better all stay together,” Brambleclaw murmured.

“Remember what happened last time.”

Crowpaw snorted but said nothing, and none of the other cats disagreed. One by one they squeezed under the gate and followed Purdy up the path. Crowpaw came last, casting wary glances behind him.

Purdy was waiting for them by the half-open door of the Twoleg nest. A harsh glow lit up the space inside it, which was full of strange shapes and scents that Brambleclaw had never encountered before.

“In there?” he mewed to Purdy. “You’re expecting us to go into an Upwalker nest?”

Purdy twitched his tail impatiently. “That’s where the food is. I know this place. I often come here.”

“This is wasting time,” Tawnypelt meowed. Brambleclaw thought his sister sounded scared; her claws were flexing anxiously on the hard stuff of the path. “We can’t go in there.

We’re not kittypets. Eating kittypet food is against the warrior code.”

“Oh, come on.” Stormfur gave Tawnypelt’s ear a friendly flick with his tail. “There’s no harm in it. We’re on a long journey, and if we can get food easily it saves time we would have to spend hunting—time we might need for something else. StarClan will understand.”

Tawnypelt shook her head, still unconvinced, but Feathertail looked reassured by her brother’s reasoning, and both RiverClan cats ventured cautiously inside.

“That’s right,” Purdy encouraged them. “There’s the food, see, in bowls over there, all ready for us.”

Brambleclaw’s stomach growled; the fish he had eaten had been small, and it had been a long time ago. “Okay,” he meowed. “I think Stormfur’s right. Let’s go, but make it quick.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t wait for his decision, bounding inside hard on Purdy’s paws. Brambleclaw followed her, but Crowpaw and Tawnypelt stayed outside.

“We’ll keep watch!” Tawnypelt called after him.

Stormfur and Feathertail were already crouched beside the bowls, gulping eagerly. Brambleclaw peered suspiciously at the food; it was hard, round pellets like rabbit droppings, but the scent that came from it told him it would be safe to eat.

Squirrelpaw thrust her muzzle into the other bowl; when she looked up her fur was plastered into spikes by something white, and her green eyes were glowing. “It’s good!” she exclaimed. “Purdy, what is it?”

“Milk,” Purdy replied. “A bit like the milk you suck from your mother.”

“And kittypets drink this every day?” Squirrelpaw was astonished. “Wow! It’s nearly worth being a kittypet.” She plunged her muzzle back into the bowl.

Brambleclaw crouched beside her and lapped up a few drops of the white liquid. Squirrelpaw was right—it was good, rich and full-tasting with hardly any tang of Twolegs about it. He settled down and tucked in.

The first hint he had of trouble was the sound of a door opening and a high-pitched Twoleg voice crying out above his head. Brambleclaw sprang to his paws in time to see a Twoleg kit run through the door and scoop up Feathertail in her arms.

Taken by surprise, Feathertail let out a startled yowl and began struggling, but the young Twoleg had her in a tight clasp. Stormfur stretched up with his forepaws, trying to reach his sister, but the Twoleg kit took no notice. Brambleclaw stared in dismay. Feathertail! He glanced around for Purdy, only to see the old cat padding calmly toward a full-grown Twoleg that stood in the doorway, waving his tail in welcome.

Then Crowpaw appeared from the garden, a black whirl-wind with glaring amber eyes. “See?” he hissed at Brambleclaw. “This is your fault! You let that old mange bag bring us here.”

Brambleclaw gaped at the accusation, but Crowpaw did not wait for an answer. He spun around to face the Twoleg kit, lips drawn back in a snarl. “Let her go, or I’ll claw you to shreds!” he spat.

The little Twoleg, happily stroking Feathertail with loud squeaking noises, hadn’t noticed Crowpaw, nor understood his threat. The black apprentice was ready to spring when Squirrelpaw slipped in front of him. “Wait, mouse-brain! It’s only a kit. Do it this way.”

She padded up to the Twoleg. Raising her green eyes pleadingly, she let out a purr and rubbed herself against the Twoleg’s legs.

“Good idea!” Stormfur exclaimed, and crowded up to the Twoleg kit on the other side, purring.

The little Twoleg’s eyes gleamed. It let out a cry of delight and bent down to stroke Squirrelpaw; at the same instant Feathertail, feeling the grip on her slacken, managed to wriggle free and leap to the ground.

“Let’s go!” Brambleclaw yowled.

The forest cats shot out of the door and streaked down the path to the gate. As Brambleclaw squeezed underneath he heard the little Twoleg yowl loudly but he did not stop to listen. “This way!” he shouted, heading for a clump of shrubs.

As he dived under the low-hanging, glossy-leaved branches, he realized to his relief that all his companions were with him.

A moment later, with a lot of puffing and blowing and scrabbling, Purdy joined them.

“Get out of here!” Crowpaw spat at the old tom. “It was you who took us in there, to be caught by Twolegs.” With a pointed glance at Brambleclaw he added, “If you had listened to me, it wouldn’t have happened.”

Purdy twitched an ear, and showed no signs of leaving. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. They’re decent Upwalkers. They wouldn’t hurt a cat none.”

“Just keep her prisoner,” Tawnypelt growled. “That Twoleg kit obviously wanted to turn Feathertail into a kittypet.”

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Feathertail pointed out. “I could have escaped by myself, except I didn’t want to claw the little Twoleg.” She blinked gratefully at the ThunderClan apprentice. “But Squirrelpaw had the best idea.”

Squirrelpaw ducked her head, looking embarrassed. “If ever any of you tell the cats back home that I purred at a Twoleg,” she mewed through gritted teeth, “I’ll turn you into crowfood, and that’s a promise.”

In spite of Crowpaw’s protests, the journeying cats trekked on with Purdy as their guide. All day the old tabby led them along hard Twoleg paths that made their paws burn, where they had to slink along in the shelter of walls or dart across Thunderpaths under the noses of monsters roaring down on them.

By the end of the day Brambleclaw was exhausted, finding it hard to put one paw in front of the others. His companions were no better. Squirrelpaw was limping and Crowpaw’s tail drooped; Brambleclaw remembered that the black-pelted apprentice still hadn’t eaten, and he wondered if there would be any prey to be found so deep in Twoleg territory.

“Purdy!” he called, forcing himself to quicken his pace and catch up with the old cat. “Is there anywhere safe we can spend the night? Anywhere we can find food—not kittypet food,” he added. “We need somewhere to hunt.”

Purdy flopped down in the angle where two Thunderpaths met, and raised one hind paw to scratch his ear. “Don’t know about prey,” he rasped. “There’s a place we can spend the night just up ahead.”

“How far?” Tawnypelt growled. “My paws are dropping off.”

“Not far.” Purdy heaved himself to his paws again; Brambleclaw had to admit the old cat was showing more stamina than he would have expected on the seemingly endless journey. “Not far at all.”

As Brambleclaw braced himself to set off again, he spotted a faint reddish gleam falling on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. His head whipped around and he stared in horror. The clouds were clearing away on the horizon, and now, in the gap between two of the Twoleg nests, he could see the setting sun. It was behind them. They had been traveling in completely the wrong direction!

“Purdy!” His voice was a strangled yowl. “Look!”

The old cat blinked at the red light in the sky. “Fine weather tomorrow, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Fine weather!” Crowpaw hissed. “He’s been leading us wrong all day.”

Squirrelpaw sank down on the hard ground and put her head on her paws.

“We’re supposed to be going toward the sunset,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “Purdy, do you really know how to find the sun-drown place?”

“’Course I do,” Purdy defended himself, his rumpled fur beginning to bristle. “It’s just… well, goin’ through Upwalker places, you get turned around on yourself now and then.”

“He doesn’t know,” Tawnypelt mewed flatly.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Crowpaw scoffed. “He couldn’t find his own tail. Let’s leave him here and carry on by ourselves.”

Another monster roared by; Stormfur, who had been standing nearest the edge of the Thunderpath, jumped back as a shower of grit spattered his fur.

“Look,” he meowed, “I agree that Purdy’s leading us the wrong way. But we can’t go off on our own now. We’d never get out of this Twolegplace.”

Feathertail nodded glumly, padding over to stand beside her brother and lick the grit off his fur.

Brambleclaw knew they were right; he forced down frustration at the thought of how much time they were wasting.

“Okay,” he meowed. “Purdy, show us this place where we can sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.”

Ignoring a contemptuous noise from Crowpaw, he set out once again in the pawsteps of the old tabby.

By the time they reached Purdy’s sleeping place, the sky was almost completely dark, but their path was lit up with a harsh glare from Twoleg lights like small, dirty suns. The old tabby led them to a stretch of shrubs and grass, surrounded by a spiky fence with gaps between the posts where a cat could easily slip through. There was shelter, water in shallow puddles, and even the scent of prey.

“There!” Purdy meowed, twitching his whiskers with satisfaction. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

It wasn’t bad at all, Brambleclaw decided, wondering whether Purdy had really meant to lead them here, or if finding the place was just a lucky accident. Tired though they were, they hunted at once; the mice they caught were scrawny and reeked of Twolegplace, but they tasted like the juiciest voles to the hungry forest cats.

Squirrelpaw polished hers off, looked around for more, and sighed. “What wouldn’t I give for a bowl of kittypet milk! I’m joking,” she added, as Crowpaw curled his lip at her. “Lighten up, will you?”

Crowpaw turned his back, too exhausted for a real quarrel.

To Brambleclaw’s relief, it was not long before all his companions settled down to sleep. He curled up under some low-growing branches, where he could almost imagine himself back in the warriors’ den. Gazing through the gaps between the leaves, he looked up at the sky, but the harsh Twoleg lights cut off the glitter of Silverpelt. StarClan seemed very far away.

The next day they struggled on under Purdy’s directions.

Brambleclaw felt as if he had been plodding along for the length of an elder’s life, at the base of tall Twoleg walls that were as steep as the cliff at the sun-drown place. By now he was pretty much convinced that the old tabby was ambling along at random, not caring if they were going the right way or not. But the forest cats had no hope of finding their own way out of the Twolegplace. Cloud covered the sun again, so there was no help there, and now and again rain fell in a cold spatter.

“We’ll never get out of this.” Tawnypelt echoed Brambleclaw’s thoughts as they lined up to cross another Thunderpath.

“You might as well stop complaining,” Stormfur retorted.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Brambleclaw was surprised to hear such a hostile response from the easygoing RiverClan warrior. But they were all still tired, even after the night’s sleep, and hope was trickling away like water falling onto sand. As Tawnypelt glared, her neck fur bristling, he stepped in front of her. “Take it easy, both of you,” he meowed.

He broke off when Stormfur whipped around and pelted across the Thunderpath, almost straight under the paws of an approaching monster. Feathertail let out a distressed mew and sprang after him.

“And don’t take stupid risks!” Brambleclaw yelled after them.

The RiverClan warriors ignored him. Shrugging, Brambleclaw turned to Squirrelpaw, who was crouching beside him at the edge of the Thunderpath, watching for her chance to cross.

“I’ll tell you when it’s safe to go,” he told her.

“I can do it!” Squirrelpaw spat. “Stop trying to sound like my father.” She leaped out onto the hard surface of the Thunderpath; fortunately no monsters were in sight.

Brambleclaw raced behind her, catching up as she reached the other side. He bent over her so they stood nose-to-nose, and his words came out in a hiss of fury. “If you ever do something so stupid again, you’ll wish I was your father! I’ll be tougher with you than he ever was.”

“I wish you were my father now!” she retorted. “Firestar would know which way to go.”

There was nothing Brambleclaw could say to that. She was right—the heroic ThunderClan leader would never have made such a mess of this journey. Why had StarClan chosen him, why?

He turned to the old tabby, who was strolling across the Thunderpath as if he had all the time in the world. “Purdy, how much farther is it to the edge of this Twolegplace?”

“Oh, not far, not far at all.” Purdy let out an amused purr.

“You youngsters are too impatient.”

A faint growl came from Crowpaw’s throat, and he took a step toward their guide. “At least age hasn’t cracked our wits,” he snapped. “Get a move on!”

Purdy blinked at him. “All in good time.” He stood still, scenting the air, and then turned decisively alongside the Thunderpath. “This way.”

“He hasn’t got the faintest idea,” Crowpaw snarled, but he still followed. As with all of the forest cats, it was no longer a question of faith or courage. They just didn’t have any choice.

The day seemed to drag on forever, and when the light began to fade again they were limping painfully beside a tall Twoleg fence. Brambleclaw thought the skin on his pads must have been worn off with so much walking on stone; he longed for the soothing coolness of growing things under his paws.

He opened his mouth to ask Purdy to find them another place to stop, only to realize that he could taste a sharp, unfamiliar smell on the air. He paused, trying to identify it; at the same moment Tawnypelt came hurrying up to him.

“Brambleclaw, have you noticed that smell? It’s like the carrionplace, on the edge of ShadowClan territory. We’d better watch out. There’ll be rats.”

Brambleclaw nodded. Now that his sister had reminded him, he could clearly detect the scent of rat among the other foul reeks of Twoleg rubbish. Glancing back the way he had come, he saw that the rest of his companions were spread out behind, worn out by fear and uncertainty and the hard slog of their journey.

“Hurry up!” he called. “Keep together!”

A dry chittering sound interrupted him. Whirling around, he saw three huge rats squeezing under the fence to stand in his path, their naked tails curled high over their backs. Their eyes glinted in their evil, wedge-shaped faces, and he could just make out the gleam of their sharp front teeth.

In a heartbeat, the leading rat sprang at him; Brambleclaw leaped back and felt its teeth snap a hairbreadth from his leg.

He swung a paw and raked his claws down the side of the rat’s head. It fell back, squealing, but at once another one took its place. More appeared from the other side of the fence, streaming onto the path like a vicious, squealing river. Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of Tawnypelt snarling fiercely as a rat sank its teeth into her shoulder. Then two more of them struck him and he went down under a writhing mass of bodies.

At first he could hardly get his breath. The disgusting stink of the rats filled his nostrils, choking him. He kicked out with his hind paws and felt his claws sink into fur and flesh. A rat squealed and the weight on him vanished, letting him scramble to his paws again to slash at another of the vile creatures as its teeth met in his ear.

Just beside him Squirrelpaw was writhing underneath a rat almost as big as she was; before Brambleclaw could make a move to help her she threw it off and hurled herself at it, ears flattened and jaws parted in a furious yowl. The rat fled; Squirrelpaw let it go and turned to aim her claws at another that was clinging onto Feathertail’s back, sending streams of bright red blood running from its sharp claws.

Brambleclaw threw himself back into the battle beside Crowpaw, who was being dragged along the ground with his teeth embedded in a rat’s leg. Brambleclaw dispatched the rat with a single blow of his paw, and spun to meet the next attacker. Stormfur and Feathertail were fighting side by side at the base of the fence, and Tawnypelt, one shoulder bleeding heavily, shook a rat by its tail before dropping it and biting hard at its throat. Purdy had come back too, wading into the mass of rats and tossing them aside with one powerful forepaw.

As quickly as it had begun, the fight was over. The surviving rats retreated through the hole in the fence; Crowpaw aimed a blow at the last of them as its tail vanished.

Brambleclaw was left gasping for breath, feeling a sharp sting in his tail and one hind leg, as he gazed at the remaining rats strewn across the ground, some of them still feebly twitching. Fresh-kill, he thought dully, but he could not summon the energy to gather the bodies together or to eat. The rest of his companions huddled around him, gazing at each other with huge eyes, all their quarrels forgotten in their shared fear.

“Purdy,” Brambleclaw mewed exhaustedly. “We’ve got to rest. What about over there?”

He pointed with his tail to a gap in the wall on the other side of the Thunderpath from the carrionplace where the rats were. Beyond, everything was dark. He could pick up the scent of Twolegs, but it was stale.

Purdy blinked. “Sure, that’ll do.”

This time it was Brambleclaw who led the way across the Thunderpath. Every cat was so worn out that if a monster had appeared it could have flattened them all, but StarClan watched over them and everything was quiet. Crowpaw, Stormfur, and Feathertail dragged rats across with them, while Squirrelpaw lent her shoulder to help support Tawnypelt, who was limping badly and left a trail of blood drops behind her.

Through the gap in the wall there was a dark enclosed area behind a dead-looking Twoleg nest. Rough stones were stuck out of the ground; puddles of greasy water had gathered among them. Crowpaw bent his head to drink and grunted in disgust, but did not have the strength to complain out loud.

There was nothing to use as bedding. The cats huddled together in one corner, except for Squirrelpaw, who went nosing around the wall and came back with cobwebs plastered over one paw, which she pressed onto Tawnypelt’s wound.

“I wish I could remember the herb Leafpaw uses for rat bites,” she meowed.

“No herbs here anyway,” Tawnypelt murmured, wincing.

“Thanks, Squirrelpaw, that really helps.”

“We’d better keep watch,” Brambleclaw announced. “Those rats might be back. I’ll go first,” he added, worried that some cat would start protesting. “The rest of you get some sleep, but if you’ve got any bites, give them a good lick first.”

All his companions, even Crowpaw, obeyed without question. Brambleclaw guessed that they were so frightened, they were just glad to have some cat tell them what to do.

He padded back to the gap in the wall and sat in shadow, gazing out across the Thunderpath to the place where the rats had appeared. Everything was quiet, leaving Brambleclaw nothing to do but worry about how the journey had gone so disastrously wrong. Most of all he worried about Tawnypelt.

They all had scratches from the battle with the rats, but his sister’s was the only deep bite; it looked nasty, and he knew that of all bites, those from a rat were feared most by his Clan mates. How would they cope if the bite became infected, or if her leg stiffened so that Tawnypelt couldn’t go on?

A whisper of movement beside him made him jump, until he saw that it was Squirrelpaw. Her ginger fur stood on end and blood was oozing from a scratch on her nose, but her eyes were still bright. Brambleclaw braced himself for criticism or some clever remark, but when she spoke her voice was quiet.

“Tawnypelt’s asleep.”

“Good,” Brambleclaw meowed. “You… you fought well today. Dustpelt would have been proud of you, if he could have seen.” He let out a long sigh, full of weariness and uncertainty.

To his surprise, Squirrelpaw pushed her nose comfortingly into his fur. “Don’t worry,” she mewed. “We’ll be fine. StarClan are watching over us.”

Breathing in her soft, warm scent, Brambleclaw wished that he could believe her.