Midnight

Chapter 6

All night Leafpaw’s sleep had been disturbed by strange, vivid dreams. At first she thought she was following a scent trail toward Fourtrees, running through the forest along the invisible path. Then the dream changed and she felt the fur on her neck and shoulders rise as if she confronted an enemy, with battle only a heartbeat away. The threat of danger faded, but now she grew colder and colder, until she jerked awake to find the clump of ferns where she slept heavy with raindrops, and rain drumming softly on the forest all around her.

Scrambling to her paws, she dashed across the small, fern-enclosed clearing and took shelter just inside Cinderpelt’s den. The medicine cat was sleeping soundly in her mossy nest beside the back wall and did not move when Leafpaw came in, shaking water from her pelt.

The young apprentice blinked and yawned as she gazed out into the clearing. Above her head she could just make out the black outlines of trees against a sky that was growing gray with the first light of dawn. Part of her rejoiced that the long, dry spell was coming to an end with this downpour that the forest needed so badly. The rest of her could not help feeling troubled about what her dreams might mean. Was StarClan sending her a sign? Or had she somehow picked up thoughts from Squirrelpaw? This would not be the first time she had known what her sister was doing without being told.

Leafpaw let out a long sigh. Little as she liked the idea, she was almost convinced that Squirrelpaw must have slipped out of camp to hunt by night, sending Leafpaw the images of running through the forest. There was no way she had been on an official patrol. What sort of trouble would Squirrelpaw be in if Firestar found out?

As Leafpaw crouched there, she realized that the rain was easing off and the clouds were turning pale yellow and thinning out. With a last glance at the sleeping Cinderpelt she slipped outside again, ignoring the water that soaked her fur as she pushed through the fern tunnel into the main clearing.

Perhaps if she could find Squirrelpaw quickly, she could help her hide whatever she had been up to.

But when she reached the clearing there was no sign of her sister. The other three apprentices had emerged from their den and were lapping eagerly at a shallow puddle that had pooled on the sun-scorched earth. Ferncloud’s three kits crept out of the nursery, their eyes huge as they examined this strange new water that had fallen from the sky. Ferncloud looked on with pride in her eyes as they dabbed at it, squealing with excitement as shining drops spun away from their paws.

Leafpaw watched them for a moment, then whirled around when she saw movement at the mouth of the gorse tunnel. An early hunting patrol, she wondered, caught out by the rain? Or could it be Squirrelpaw, returning after her illicit outing?

Then she realized that the newcomer did not have ThunderClan scent. She drew breath to yowl a warning to the Clan before she recognized the sleek black pelt: it was Ravenpaw, who had once been a ThunderClan apprentice but now lived as a loner in a Twoleg barn on the edge of WindClan territory. Leafpaw had met him once before, on her journey to Highstones with Cinderpelt. Living so close to Twolegs, Ravenpaw hunted mainly by night and was perfectly comfortable with traveling through the forest in pitch dark. He might be just the cat to tell Leafpaw if there had been a ThunderClan apprentice hunting in the forest before dawn.

The visitor crossed the clearing slowly, skirting the deep-est puddles and delicately picking up his paws to shake off the water. “Hi—it’s Leafpaw, isn’t it?” Ravenpaw meowed, pricking his ears toward her. “That was some storm! I’d have been soaked through if I hadn’t managed to shelter in a hollow tree. Still, the forest needs the rain.”

Leafpaw returned his greeting politely. She was trying to find the right words to ask him if he had seen Squirrelpaw on his way to the camp, when a cheerful yowl interrupted her.

“Hey, Ravenpaw!”

Whitepaw and Shrewpaw were bounding across the clearing toward them. Ferncloud’s kits abandoned their raindrop games and scuttled after them.

The biggest of the three kits skidded to a halt in front of Ravenpaw and took an enormous sniff. “New cat,” she growled. “New scent.”

The loner dipped his head in greeting, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth in amusement.

“Hollykit, this is Ravenpaw,” Shrewpaw told her. “He lives on a Twoleg farm, and feasts on more mice than you three have seen in your life.”

Hollykit’s amber eyes grew huge. “Every day?”

“That’s right,” Whitepaw put in solemnly. “Every day.”

“I want to go there,” the little gray kit mewed. “Can we?

Now?”

“When you’re bigger, Birchkit,” Ferncloud promised, coming up to join them. “Welcome, Ravenpaw. It’s good to—Hollykit! Larchkit! Stop that at once!”

The two brown tabby kits had pounced on Ravenpaw’s twitching tail, and were batting at it with outstretched paws.

Ravenpaw winced. “Don’t do that, little kits,” he scolded gently. “It’s my tail, not a mouse.”

“Ravenpaw, I’m sorry,” meowed Ferncloud. “They haven’t learned how to behave properly yet.”

“Don’t worry, Ferncloud,” Ravenpaw replied, though he drew his tail closely against his side, out of harm’s way. “Kits will be kits.”

“And these particular kits have been out for long enough.”

Ferncloud swished her tail around to gather the three kits together and herded them back toward the nursery. “Say good-bye to Ravenpaw now.”

The kits mewed good-bye and scampered off.

“Can we do anything for you, Ravenpaw?” Whitepaw asked politely. “Would you like some fresh-kill?”

“No, I ate before I left home, thank you,” the black cat replied. “I’ve come to see Firestar. Is he around?”

“I think he’s in his den,” Shrewpaw told him. “Shall I take you there?”

“No, I will,” meowed Leafpaw. She was getting increasingly anxious to ask the loner if he had seen Squirrelpaw on his journey through the forest. Just then Thornclaw, Shrewpaw’s mentor, emerged from the warriors’ den. Leafpaw twitched her ears toward him. “Er… is your mentor looking for you?” she asked Shrewpaw.

As she spoke, Thornclaw called to Shrewpaw, and the apprentice dashed off with a quick word of farewell. Whitepaw also meowed her good-byes, and went over to join Brackenfur at the fresh-kill pile.

Suddenly the thorny branches that formed the gorse tunnel trembled, and relief flooded over Leafpaw as she watched Squirrelpaw emerge, dragging a rabbit behind her through the mud. Leafpaw had taken a couple of paces toward her before she remembered the Clan’s visitor, and turned awkwardly back to him.

“That’s your sister, isn’t it?” Ravenpaw meowed. “Go and talk to her if you want. I can find my own way to Firestar’s den.”

Released, Leafpaw bounded toward her sister, who was heading for the fern tunnel. Catching sight of her, Squirrelpaw stopped to wait, dropping the rabbit at her paws; its fur was plastered with mud from being dragged across the clearing, and rain had flattened Squirrelpaw’s own pelt against her flanks, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Not bad, is it?” she announced, nodding toward her prey. “It’s for you and Cinderpelt.”

“Where have you been?” Leafpaw hissed. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Why?” Squirrelpaw’s green eyes looked injured. “Where did you think I had gone? I… I only slipped out to hunt when the rain started to ease off. And you might at least say thank-you!”

Snatching up the rabbit, she plunged into the ferns that led to the medicine cats’ clearing without waiting for Leafpaw to respond. Leafpaw followed more slowly, not sure whether to be relieved or furious. She had the uneasy feeling that Squirrelpaw was lying to her, for the first time ever. If she had really picked up her sister’s thoughts in her dream, then Squirrelpaw had done a lot more than just slip out of camp for a quick chase after a rabbit.

When she emerged into the clearing, she saw that Squirrelpaw had already dumped the rabbit at the mouth of Cinderpelt’s den. Her sister gave it an admiring sniff and meowed, “You might at least say I did well to catch it.” She still sounded indignant, but she didn’t meet Leafpaw’s gaze when she spoke.

“You did,” Leafpaw admitted. “It’s huge! Especially as you had such a disturbed night,” she added more sharply.

Squirrelpaw froze; only her green eyes moved, flicking up to rest on her sister’s face. “Who says I did?”

“I know you did. You were awake nearly all night. What was the matter? It was more than a short hunt, I know that.”

Squirrelpaw dropped her eyes to the ground. “Oh, I ate a frog late in the evening,” she muttered. “It must have disagreed with me, that’s all.”

Leafpaw unsheathed her claws and dug them into the rain-softened earth. Inwardly she was fighting to stay calm. She knew that Squirrelpaw was lying to her, and part of her wanted to start wailing like a kit: You’re my sister! You should trust me!

“Oh, a frog,” she mewed. “You should have come to me for some herbs to chew.”

“Yes, well…” Squirrelpaw scraped the earth with her one white paw. Leafpaw could see her discomfort in her flattened ears and the guilty look she shot at her, but didn’t feel in the least bit sorry. Why was Squirrelpaw lying?

“I’m fine now,” Squirrelpaw insisted. “It wasn’t anything to make a fuss about.”

She glanced around in relief as Cinderpelt appeared from the mouth of her den. Her smoky gray fur was ruffled, and she carried a leaf-wrapped packet in her jaws. “Fresh-kill, I see,” she meowed, setting the packet down. “Squirrelpaw, that’s a splendid rabbit! Thank you.”

Squirrelpaw gave her shoulder a quick lick, her eyes glowing at the medicine cat’s praise. But she still avoided her sister’s gaze.

Cinderpelt picked up the packet again and padded unevenly across the clearing to set it down in front of Leafpaw. Many seasons ago, when she was Firestar’s apprentice, she had injured her hind leg in an accident on the Thunderpath. She had been unable to finish her warrior training, but while recovering in the care of Yellowfang, the ThunderClan medicine cat, she had found a new path to follow in the service of her Clan.

“Leafpaw, take that to Dappletail, please,” Cinderpelt meowed. “It’s poppy seed to help her sleep, because her teeth are aching so badly. Mind you tell her to go easy on it.”

“Yes, Cinderpelt.” Leafpaw picked up the packet and hurried out of the clearing, casting one last glance at her sister as she went. There was no chance to ask Squirrelpaw any more questions, and her sister was still refusing to look at her.

Leafpaw felt every hair in her pelt prickle with foreboding as she wondered what could have happened to open up this gulf between them.

“Water! Help! Water everywhere! Swim!” Brambleclaw yowled, then choked as a sharp, salty wave filled his mouth, dragging at his fur and pulling him under. His paws worked frantically as he struggled to keep his head above the surface.

He stretched up his neck, straining to find the line of reeds he expected to mark the opposite bank, but all he could see were endless, heaving, blue-green waves. On the horizon, he caught a glimpse of the sun sinking into the waves in a pool of flame, its dying rays tracing a path of blood that stretched toward him. Then his head went under and the cold salt water flooded into his mouth again.

I’m drowning! he wailed silently as he fought for his life.

StarClan help me!

His head broke the surface and a strong current spun him around with his back legs dangling helplessly beneath him.

Choking and gasping for air, he found himself gazing up at a sheer wall of smooth sand-colored rock. Had he been swept into the gorge? No, these cliffs were higher still. At their base, the waves sucked at a dark hole, edged by jagged rocks that made it look like a gaping mouth with teeth. Brambleclaw’s terror increased as he realized that the swirling water was carrying him straight toward the stony jaws.

“No! No!” he yowled. “Help me!”

He kicked and thrashed in a panic but he was growing weaker and his sodden fur was dragging him down. The waves drove him onward, crashing against the rocks; now the black mouth loomed over him, spitting salty foam, as if it were about to swallow him alive…

Then his eyes flew open, and there were leaves above him, not sheer cliffs, and he was supported by moss-cushioned sand rather than sinking in bottomless water. Brambleclaw lay shuddering with relief as he realized that he was lying in his nest in the warriors’ den. The thunder of the waves became the rushing of wind in the branches above his head; water had dripped through the thick canopy of leaves and formed an icy trickle in his neck fur, and he knew the rain must have come at last. His throat was as sore as if he had swallowed a riverful of salty water, and his mouth was parched.

Brambleclaw sat up restlessly. Dustpelt lifted his head and muttered, “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you keep quiet and let the rest of us sleep?”

“Sorry,” Brambleclaw meowed. He began grooming the moss out of his fur, his heart still thudding as if it were going to break out of his chest. He felt as limp and exhausted as if he had really been struggling to save himself in that strange salt water.

Gradually the strengthening of the light in the den told him that the sun had come out. He heaved himself to his paws and poked his head out between the branches, blinking as he looked for a puddle where he could quench his thirst.

A fresh breeze was driving the clouds away. In front of Brambleclaw the clearing was filled with pale yellow light from the rising sun, reflecting from puddles on the ground and water droplets hanging on every branch and frond of fern. The whole forest seemed to be drinking in the life-giving water, the trees lifting their dusty leaves to catch each sparkling drop.

“Thank StarClan!” Mousefur meowed as she pushed her way out of the den beside Brambleclaw. “I’d almost forgotten what rain smells like.”

Brambleclaw staggered across the clearing to a puddle near the base of the Highrock, where he lowered his head and lapped, trying to wash the taste of salt from his mouth. He had never imagined that water could taste like that; like the other cats, he would sometimes lick salt from the surface of rocks, or taste it in the blood of prey, but the memory of drinking that salt-laden water made every hair on his pelt prickle.

A final gust of rain ruffled the pools of water and rinsed the sticky feel of salt from Brambleclaw’s fur. Raising his head to enjoy the sharp, cold shower, he spotted Firestar emerging from his den under the Highrock and turning to speak to the cat who followed him out. Brambleclaw was surprised to see that the second cat was Ravenpaw.

“Twolegs are always doing strange things,” Firestar was saying as they came into earshot. “I’m grateful that you came all this way to tell us, but I really don’t think it’s got anything to do with us.”

Ravenpaw looked uneasy. “I know Twolegs often act without reason, but I’ve never seen anything like this. There are far more of them on the Thunderpath than before, walking along the edge with shiny, bright-colored pelts. And they have new kinds of monsters—huge ones!”

“Yes, Ravenpaw, so you said.” Firestar sounded faintly impatient with his old friend. “But we haven’t seen any of them in our territory. I’ll tell you what…” He paused to press his muzzle affectionately against Ravenpaw’s side. “I’ll tell the patrols to keep their eyes open for anything unusual.”

Ravenpaw twitched the fur on his shoulders. “I suppose that’s all you can do.”

“And you could drop in on WindClan on your way home,” Firestar suggested. “They’re closer than we are to that part of the Thunderpath, so Tallstar ought to know if something strange is going on.”

“Yes, Firestar, I’ll do that.”

“Wait a moment, I’ve got a better idea,” meowed Firestar.

“Why don’t I come with you part of the way? I could take a patrol up to Fourtrees at the same time. Stay there, and I’ll fetch Graystripe and Sandstorm.” He bounded off into the warriors’ den without waiting for Ravenpaw to reply.

When the Clan leader had gone, Ravenpaw caught sight of Brambleclaw and gave him a friendly nod. “Hi, how are you?” he meowed. “How’s the prey running?”

“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Brambleclaw was aware that his voice still sounded shaky, and he wasn’t surprised when Ravenpaw peered at him more closely.

“You look like you’ve been chased all night by a horde of badgers,” the loner meowed. “Is anything the matter?”

“Nothing really…” Brambleclaw scuffled his paws on the ground. “I had a dream, that’s all.”

Ravenpaw’s eyes were sympathetic. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It was nonsense really,” Brambleclaw murmured. His ears filled again with the sound of the saltwater waves crashing and bellowing against the cliffs, and he suddenly found himself spilling everything to Ravenpaw: the vast expanse of water, the salt taste of it when it filled his mouth, the gaping black jaws in the cliff that had threatened to swallow him, and, most alarmingly of all, the sun sinking in a pool of bloodred fire. “That place can’t be real,” he finished. “I don’t know why it’s gotten to me like this. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to think about,” he added grimly.

To his surprise, Ravenpaw did not leap in to agree that Brambleclaw had had a meaningless dream about a place that existed only in his troubled imagination. Instead, the black cat was silent for a long time, his eyes clouded with thought.

“Salt water, cliffs,” he murmured. Then, “The place is real,” he meowed. “I’ve heard of it before, though I’ve never seen it for myself.”

“Real? Wh-what do you mean?” Brambleclaw stared at him, his fur standing on end.

“Rogue cats come to the Twoleg farm sometimes, when they have traveled far and are in need of shelter for the night and a spare mouse or two,” Ravenpaw explained. “Cats who live toward the place where the sun sets. They have told Barley and me about a place where there is more water than you could possibly imagine, like a river that has only one bank, and it’s too salty to drink. Every night it swallows the sun in a flash of fire, bleeding into the waves without a sound.”

Brambleclaw shivered; the loner’s words brought his dream back far too vividly for comfort. “Yes, I saw the place where the sun drowns. And the dark cave with teeth?”

“I can’t tell you about that,” Ravenpaw admitted. “But this dream must have been sent to you for a reason. Be patient, and perhaps StarClan will show you more.”

“StarClan?” Brambleclaw felt his belly flip over.

“How could you dream of a place you have never seen unless StarClan willed it?” Ravenpaw pointed out.

Brambleclaw had to admit the logic in what the loner said.

“Say it was StarClan who sent me this dream about the sun-drown place,” he began. “Do you think they could possibly be telling me to go there?”

Ravenpaw’s eyes widened in surprise. “Go there? Why?”

“Well, I had another dream first,” Brambleclaw explained uncomfortably. “I… I thought I met Bluestar in the forest.

She told me about a new prophecy, that great trouble is coming to the forest. She said that I’d been chosen…” He said nothing about the cats from the other Clans. Even though Ravenpaw lived outside the warrior code, he would not approve of meeting with the others in secret, as Brambleclaw had done. “Why me?” he finished in confusion. “Why not Firestar? He would know what to do.”

The loner gazed at him solemnly for a long moment.

“There was a prophecy once about Firestar, too,” he meowed at last. “StarClan promised that fire would save the Clan, though they didn’t say exactly how. Firestar never understood it, never knew the prophecy was about him, until Bluestar told him just before she died.”

Brambleclaw met his gaze and could find nothing to say.

He had heard about the fire prophecy—every Clan cat had, as part of the stories told about their leader—but it had never occurred to him that Firestar might once have felt as confused as he felt now.

“There was a time when Firestar was a young warrior just like you,” Ravenpaw went on as if he could read Brambleclaw’s thoughts. “He often wondered if he was making the right decisions. Oh, yes, he’s a hero now, he saved the forest, but to begin with, his task looked as impossible as yours—whatever it might be. His prophecy has been fulfilled,” he added. “Maybe it’s your time now. Remember that StarClan don’t like to make things obvious. They send us prophecies, but they never tell us exactly what we should do. They expect us to show courage and loyalty to achieve what has to be done, just as Firestar did.”

Brambleclaw was puzzled by the reverence with which Ravenpaw, a loner who chose not to dwell in a Clan, spoke of StarClan. Disconcertingly, the black cat murmured, “Just because I live outside the forest doesn’t mean that I reject the warrior code. It is a noble path for cats to walk, and I would defend it as willingly as any warrior.”

He gave Brambleclaw a friendly nod as Firestar returned with Graystripe and Sandstorm. Brambleclaw murmured farewell and watched the four cats pad across the clearing and vanish into the gorse tunnel.

If the dreams were true—both of them—then an enormous task lay in front of him. He had no idea how he could find the salt water, except that he would need to follow the setting sun. And he did not know how far away it was: farther than any forest cat had ever gone before, that was for sure.

Ravenpaw’s words echoed in his ears. Maybe it’s your time now.

Had the other three cats dreamed of the sun-drown place too? What if he’s right? Brambleclaw asked himself. What should I do next?