Midnight

Chapter 4

Brambleclaw emerged from the warriors’ den and glanced around the clearing. Another quarter moon had passed, and still there was no rain. Over all the forest, the air was hot and heavy.

The streams near the camp had dried up, so the Clan had to travel to the stream that flowed past Fourtrees when they needed water. Luckily it ran deep through the rocky soil, and flowed even in the driest greenleaf.

Ever since the Gathering Brambleclaw’s sleep had been disturbed, and when he woke each morning he struggled with the foreboding that something terrible had happened to the camp during the night. But everything seemed as peaceful as it had been the day before. This morning, Whitepaw and Shrewpaw were practicing their fighting moves outside the apprentices’ den. Mousefur emerged from the gorse tunnel with a squirrel clamped in her jaws, followed by her apprentice, Spiderpaw, and Rainwhisker, who also carried fresh-kill. Firestar and Graystripe were talking together at the base of the Highrock, with Squirrelpaw and Dustpelt listening close by.

Firestar beckoned Brambleclaw over with his tail. “Are you up for an extra patrol?” he asked. “I want to check the border with ShadowClan, in case they get the idea of coming across here to find water.”

“But Blackstar said that his Clan has all the water they need,” Brambleclaw reminded him.

Firestar’s ears twitched. “True. But we don’t necessarily believe what Clan leaders say at a Gathering. Besides, I’ve never trusted Blackstar. If he thinks we have richer prey in our territory, he’ll send warriors in to help themselves, for sure.”

Graystripe growled agreement. “ShadowClan have been quiet for too many moons. If you ask me, it’s about time they started making trouble.”

“I just thought—” Brambleclaw stopped, embarrassed to be seen objecting to his leader’s order, and amazed that he could see a possibility Firestar didn’t seem to have considered.

“Go on,” Firestar prompted.

Brambleclaw took a deep breath. He couldn’t get out of this now, in spite of the green glare that Squirrelpaw was giving him for daring to disagree with her father. “I just think that if there is trouble, it’s more likely to come from WindClan,” he ventured. “If their territory is as dry as Tallstar said, then they’re bound to be short of prey.”

“WindClan!” Squirrelpaw burst out. “Brambleclaw, are you completely mouse-brained? RiverClan gave WindClan permission to drink at the river, so if they steal prey from anywhere they’ll steal it from RiverClan.”

“And that strip of RiverClan territory is really narrow between the river and our border,” Brambleclaw retorted. “If WindClan do hunt, the prey could easily cross into our territory.”

“You think you’re so clever!” Squirrelpaw sprang to her paws, her fur bristling. “Firestar ordered you to check the ShadowClan border, so you should do what you’re told.”

“Of course, you’ve never disobeyed a warrior, have you?”

Dustpelt put in dryly.

Squirrelpaw ignored her mentor. “ShadowClan have always caused trouble,” she persisted. “But we’re friends with WindClan now.”

Brambleclaw found himself getting angrier and angrier.

Of course he didn’t want to question Firestar’s authority.

Firestar was the hero who had saved the forest from the terrible ambitions of Tigerstar and the rogue cats who followed him. There would never be another cat like him. Yet Brambleclaw really believed that ThunderClan should take a possible threat from WindClan seriously. He would have liked to discuss it properly with Firestar, but that was impossible when Squirrelpaw insisted on arguing with everything he said.

“You’re the one who thinks she knows it all,” he spat, taking a step toward her. “Will you just listen for one moment?”

He ducked to avoid her paw as she lashed at him, claws unsheathed, and his last scrap of self-control deserted him.

Falling into a crouch, he got ready to spring at her, his tail twitching back and forth. If Squirrelpaw wanted a fight, she could have one!

But before either of the young cats could attack, Firestar pushed in between them. “That’s enough!” he snarled.

Brambleclaw froze in dismay. Straightening up, he gave his chest an anxious lick and murmured, “Sorry, Firestar.”

Squirrelpaw stayed silent, giving him a mutinous glare, until Dustpelt prompted her. “Well?”

“Sorry,” Squirrelpaw muttered, and instantly spoiled her apology by adding, “But he’s still a mouse-brain.”

“Actually, I think he’s got a point, don’t you?” Dustpelt meowed to Firestar. “I agree that ShadowClan have always been trouble and always will be, but if WindClan happen to spot a juicy vole or a squirrel on our side of the border, don’t you think they might be tempted?”

“You could be right,” Firestar conceded. “In that case, Brambleclaw, you’d better take a patrol up the RiverClan border as far as Fourtrees. Dustpelt, you and Squirrelpaw can go as well.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced from his daughter to Brambleclaw and back again. “And you will get along with each other, or I’ll want to know why.”

“Yes, Firestar,” Brambleclaw replied, relieved that he had gotten off so lightly for nearly flattening Squirrelpaw.

“That’s two patrols, then,” Graystripe mewed cheerfully.

“I’ll find some more cats to go with me up the ShadowClan side.” He jumped to his paws and vanished into the warriors’ den.

Firestar nodded to Dustpelt, giving him authority over the patrol, and padded away to his den on the other side of the Highrock.

“Right, let’s go,” meowed Dustpelt. He set off toward the gorse tunnel, only to glance back at Squirrelpaw, who had not moved. “What’s the matter now?”

“It’s not fair,” Squirrelpaw muttered. “I don’t want to patrol with him.”

Brambleclaw rolled his eyes, but had the sense not to start their quarrel again.

“Then you shouldn’t have said what you did,” Dustpelt told his apprentice. Pacing back, he stood over her and gazed sternly down at her. “Squirrelpaw, sooner or later you must learn there are times to speak, and times to be silent.”

Squirrelpaw heaved a noisy sigh. “But it seems like it’s always time to be silent.”

“There, you’ve got the idea.” Dustpelt flicked her ear with his tail, and Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of the affection there was between mentor and apprentice. “Come on, both of you. We’ll renew the scent markings, and with any luck we’ll come across a mouse or two while we’re out.”

Squirrelpaw recovered her good temper when she caught a plump vole at Sunningrocks. Brambleclaw had to admit that she was an efficient hunter, patiently stalking her prey and pouncing on it to dispatch it with one blow of her paw.

“Dustpelt, I’m starving,” she announced. “May I eat it?”

Her mentor hesitated for a heartbeat and then nodded.

“The Clan has been fed,” he replied. “And this isn’t a hunting patrol.”

Squirrelpaw shot a glance at Brambleclaw as she crouched over the fresh-kill and took an eager bite. “Mmm… delicious,” she mumbled. Then she stopped and nudged the remains of the vole toward Brambleclaw. “Want some?”

Brambleclaw was on the brink of telling her that he could catch his own prey until he realized that Squirrelpaw was trying to make friends again. “Thanks,” he meowed, taking a bite.

Dustpelt leaped down from the top of the rock. “When you’ve quite finished stuffing yourselves…” he began.

“Squirrelpaw, what can you scent?”

“Apart from vole, you mean?” Squirrelpaw mewed cheekily. Springing to her paws, she tasted the air. The breeze was blowing from RiverClan territory, and she soon replied, “RiverClan cats—strong and fresh.”

“Good.” Dustpelt looked pleased. “A patrol just went by.

Nothing to do with us.”

And no sign of WindClan, Brambleclaw commented to himself as they moved off again. Not that this meant his suspicions were wrong—he did not expect to see any of their cats this far downstream, the whole length of ThunderClan territory away from their own border.

As they drew closer to Fourtrees and passed the Twoleg bridge, all three cats paused to scan the slope. The breeze had dropped and the air was still and heavy with the scent of cats.

“WindClan and RiverClan,” Brambleclaw mewed quietly to Dustpelt.

The older warrior nodded. “But they’re allowed to go down to the river,” he reminded him. “There’s no sign that they’ve crossed our border.”

“So there!” Squirrelpaw couldn’t resist adding.

Brambleclaw shrugged, telling himself that he would rather be proved wrong. He didn’t want trouble with WindClan.

Dustpelt was just moving off again toward Fourtrees when Brambleclaw caught another scent—WindClan again, but much stronger and fresher than before. Not daring to call out, he signaled frantically to Dustpelt with his tail, angling his ears in the direction where he thought the scent was coming from. Dustpelt crouched down in the long grass and signaled to his companions to do the same.

Please, StarClan, Brambleclaw begged, don’t let Squirrelpaw make a smart remark!

But the apprentice remained silent, flattening herself to the ground and staring at the clumps of bracken that Brambleclaw had indicated. For a while, the only sound was the slap and murmur of the river nearby. Then there was a dry, rustling sound, and a mottled brown cat peered out of the bracken before creeping into the open a couple of tail-lengths on the ThunderClan side of the border. Brambleclaw recognized Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy. He was followed by Onewhisker and a smallish dark gray cat Brambleclaw had never seen before—an apprentice, he guessed—carrying a vole in his jaws.

Glancing back, Mudclaw murmured, “Head for the border. I can smell ThunderClan.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dustpelt growled, rising up out of the grass.

Mudclaw recoiled and drew his lips back in a snarl. At once Brambleclaw leaped up to stand beside his Clan mate, and Squirrelpaw dashed up to her mentor’s other side.

“What are you doing on our territory?” Dustpelt demanded.

“As if I need to ask.”

“We’re not stealing prey,” Mudclaw retorted.

“Then what’s that?” Squirrelpaw asked, flicking her tail toward the vole that the apprentice was carrying.

“It’s not a ThunderClan vole,” Onewhisker explained. An old friend of Firestar’s, he looked thoroughly embarrassed to be caught like this on ThunderClan territory. “It ran across the border from RiverClan.”

“Even if that’s true, you’re stealing it from RiverClan,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “You’re allowed to drink from the river, not to take prey.”

The gray-black apprentice dropped the vole and launched himself across the grass at Brambleclaw. “Mind your own business!” he spat.

He barreled into Brambleclaw and knocked him over; Brambleclaw let out a surprised yowl as the apprentice’s teeth closed in the loose skin on his neck. Twisting his body, he managed to score his claws down the other cat’s shoulder, and felt strong hind paws scrabbling at his belly. With a screech of fury he tore his neck free and dived for his opponent’s throat.

As his teeth found their mark, Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of Onewhisker aiming a blow with his paw. He braced himself to fight both cats at once, before he realized that the WindClan warrior had batted the apprentice away and was standing over him, rage smoldering in his eyes.

“That’s enough, Crowpaw!” he snarled. “Attacking a ThunderClan warrior when we’re trespassing on their territory? What next?”

Crowpaw shot him a furious look through narrowed eyes.

“He called us thieves!”

“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Onewhisker turned to Dustpelt, who was standing a few fox-lengths away. As Brambleclaw scrambled to his feet he saw that the ThunderClan warrior had thrust himself in front of Squirrelpaw, preventing her from joining in the fight.

“I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Onewhisker went on. “It is a RiverClan vole, and I know we shouldn’t have taken it, but there’s hardly any prey in our own territory. Our elders and kits are hungry, and—” He stopped as if he thought he had already said too much. “What will you do now?”

“The vole’s between you and RiverClan,” Dustpelt meowed coldly. “I see no need to tell Firestar about this—unless it happens again. Just get out of our territory, and stay out.”

Mudclaw nudged Crowpaw to his paws. The WindClan deputy still looked furious at being found out, and Brambleclaw noticed that he did not add his apology to Onewhisker’s. Without a word he headed for the border, with Onewhisker close behind him. Crowpaw hesitated; then with a defiant glance he snatched up the vole and streaked after his Clan mates.

“I suppose we’ll never hear the last of that!” Squirrelpaw spat at Brambleclaw. Her eyes glittered with annoyance.

“Happy now you’ve been proved right?”

“I didn’t say a word!” Brambleclaw protested.

Squirrelpaw didn’t reply, but stalked off with her tail in the air. Brambleclaw looked after her with a sigh. He would much rather the incident had never happened. His fur prickled with the sense of impending disaster. Clans were becoming so thirsty and desperate that even decent cats like Onewhisker were prepared to trespass, steal, and lie. Heat lay over the forest with the weight of a huge, choking pelt, and it seemed as if every living thing was waiting for a storm to break. Could this be the trouble that StarClan had foretold?

The next few days and nights, as the moon waned to the merest scratch in the sky, seemed never-ending to Brambleclaw. When he thought of what might happen at Fourtrees when he went to meet Tawnypelt, he felt every hair in his pelt rise up with dread. Would the other Clan cats come? And what exactly would be revealed at midnight? Perhaps StarClan themselves would come down and speak with them.

At last the night came when there was almost no moon at all, but the stars of Silverpelt glittered so brightly that Brambleclaw had no difficulty in finding his way through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine. Leaves rustled as he brushed through the undergrowth from one patch of shade to the next, trying to tread as lightly as if he were creeping up on a mouse. Other ThunderClan warriors might be out late, and Brambleclaw did not want to be seen, nor to explain where he was going. He had not told any cat about his dream, and he knew that Firestar would not approve of his going to meet with cats of other Clans at Fourtrees when he was not protected by the full-moon truce.

The air was cool now, but there was a dusty scent in the air, rising from the parched earth. Plants were drooping or lay withering on the ground. The whole forest cried out for rain like a starving kit, and if it did not come soon, it would not be only WindClan who were short of water.

When Brambleclaw reached Fourtrees the clearing was empty. The sides of the Great Rock glimmered with starshine, and the leaves of the four oak trees rustled gently overhead. Brambleclaw shivered. He was so used to seeing the hollow full of cats that it seemed more daunting than before: so much bigger, with so many unexplained shadows. He could almost imagine that he had stepped into the mystical world of StarClan.

He padded across the clearing and sat at the base of the Great Rock. His ears were pricked to catch the smallest sound, and every nerve from ears to tail-tip was stretched with anticipation. Who would the other cats be? As moments slipped by, his excitement was replaced by anxiety. Not even Tawnypelt had arrived. Perhaps she had changed her mind, or perhaps this was the wrong meeting place after all.

At last he saw movement in the bushes about halfway up the side of the hollow. Brambleclaw tensed. The breeze was blowing away from him, so he could not pick up the scent; from the direction it was coming it could have been either a RiverClan or WindClan cat.

He followed the movement with his eyes as far as a clump of bracken at the bottom of the slope. The fronds waved wildly, and a cat stepped into the clearing.

Brambleclaw stared, frozen for a heartbeat, then sprang to his paws, his neck fur bristling in fury.

“Squirrelpaw!”