Moonrise

Chapter 14

Feathertail gazed back helplessly at the tunnel entrance as the cave-guards thrust her out of the tunnel and back into the main cave. She felt unseen claws tearing into her heart with every step she took away from her brother.

What did Stoneteller mean, that Stormfur was the promised cat who would save the Tribe from Sharptooth? True, her brother was a strong and brave warrior, more skilled at fighting than any of the other cats on this journey. But if Sharptooth was as huge and terrible as the Tribe cats said, what could even the bravest warrior do?

“Please,” she meowed to one of the cave-guards, a huge mud-colored tabby whose name was Scree Beneath Winter Sky, “you can’t keep Stormfur here. He belongs with us.”

There was sympathy in the Tribe cat’s eyes, but he still shook his head. “No. He is the cat sent here by the Tribe of Endless Hunting. They told us a silver cat would come.”

“But—”

“Don’t try to argue with them,” Crowpaw growled into Feathertail’s ear. “There’s no point. If we have to fight to get Stormfur out, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Feathertail looked at the WindClan cat’s bristling fur and the fierce courage in his eyes. “We can’t,” she mewed sorrow-fully. “There are too many of them.”

“I don’t see why the Tribe is so worried about Sharptooth.”

Crowpaw’s voice was scornful. “We haven’t seen a whisker of him since we arrived, so what’s the big deal?”

“Be thankful you haven’t seen him,” Scree meowed.

Crowpaw bared his teeth, but this time he didn’t spring at the guard, just turned away and touched his nose to Feathertail’s muzzle. He would have fought the whole of StarClan for her, Feathertail knew that, but he had to see that this time fighting would do no good.

The cave-guards herded the Clan cats across the cave until they reached their sleeping hollows.

“What’s going on?” Brambleclaw mewed in surprise.

“Aren’t you throwing us out?”

“Into the night?” The mud-colored guard sounded indignant. “We’re not cruel. It’s cold out there and dangerous. You can eat and rest here, and leave in the morning.”

“With Stormfur?” Tawnypelt challenged.

Scree shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”

The cave-guards left them, except for Scree and another who remained on watch a few tail-lengths away. A couple of to-bes trotted over with fresh-kill in their jaws.

“Isn’t it great?” the first of them mewed excitedly, dropping the prey he carried. “No more Sharptooth!”

“Shut up, beetle-brain,” growled his friend, giving him a sharp prod in the flank. “You know Crag told us not to talk to them.”

They retreated quickly, glancing around to make sure no cat had spotted them disobeying orders.

“I’m not eating that!” Crowpaw spat, glaring at the small pile of fresh-kill. “I don’t want anything from the Tribe.”

“Great StarClan!” Tawnypelt let out a noisy sigh. “How’s that going to help, you stupid furball? You need your strength twice as much now—to save the forest and to save Stormfur.”

Crowpaw muttered something inaudible, but made no other protest as he dragged a falcon out of the heap.

“Well?” Squirrelpaw demanded when they had divided the rest of the fresh-kill and were crouched close together to eat.

“We’re not putting up with this, are we? What are we going to do?”

“There’s not very much we can do,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “There aren’t enough of us to fight the cave-guards.”

“You’re not going to leave him?” Squirrelpaw’s green eyes were wide with disbelief.

Brambleclaw paused; Feathertail could see an agony of indecision in his expression. She began to shiver. Since they left the forest she had come to respect the young warrior’s skills as the unelected leader of their group; if he could not see what to do, then what hope was there for Stormfur?

“We should never have come into these mountains,” growled Tawnypelt. “It’s a hundred times worse than Twolegplace. Midnight mentioned cats in a Tribe, so she must have known about Sharptooth. Why did she send us this way?”

“It must have been a trick all along,” Crowpaw hissed. “I knew we should never have trusted that badger.”

“But why would she trick us?” Brambleclaw objected.

“StarClan sent us to her, and she warned us about the Twolegs destroying the forest. If we can’t trust her, then nothing makes sense.”

Feathertail wanted to agree with him, but she suddenly remembered something Purdy had said, when they were discussing which way to go at the edge of the wood. “Purdy tried to tell us not to come through the mountains,” she meowed out loud. “And Midnight wouldn’t let him speak. You’re right.

They both knew.”

She looked around and saw her alarm reflected in the faces of her friends.

“Midnight said we would need courage,” Brambleclaw reminded her after a heavy pause. “She said our path was laid out for us. So even if she knew about the Tribe and Sharptooth, there must be a way we can get through this.

That makes me think that we must still be following the right path.”

“So you say,” Crowpaw sneered. “I don’t suppose it matters to a ThunderClan warrior if a cat from RiverClan gets left behind.”

“And what does it matter to WindClan?” Squirrelpaw fired up in defense of her Clanmate. “I’d have thought you’d be delighted if Feathertail’s brother weren’t here to keep an eye on you.”

Crowpaw sprang to his paws, hissing a challenge.

Squirrelpaw’s green eyes blazed. Horrified, Feathertail forced herself to get up and shoulder Crowpaw away.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Can’t you see you’re making it worse?”

“Feathertail’s right,” meowed Tawnypelt. “What Clan we come from doesn’t matter here. Four of us are half-Clan anyway—have you ever thought StarClan might have chosen us because of that? If we quarrel among ourselves, then we’ll lose everything.”

Squirrelpaw’s gaze seared into Crowpaw for a moment longer before she stepped back and began to tear mouthfuls off a rabbit. Crowpaw looked into Feathertail’s eyes and then ducked his head and muttered, “Sorry.”

“So maybe we can discuss what to do without ripping one another’s fur off?” Tawnypelt meowed tartly. When no cat answered, she went on, “Don’t forget that StarClan didn’t choose Stormfur in the first place. He’s only here because he wouldn’t let Feathertail come on this mission alone.” She paused; her eyes grew troubled as she added, “What… what if the Tribe cats are right and he is the promised cat who’s going to save them from Sharptooth?”

“That’s mouse-brained!” Crowpaw exclaimed.

Feathertail was not so sure. Tawnypelt had put words to the fear that she had also felt squirming inside her ever since Stoneteller had first told them about the prophecy. Sure, Stormfur’s fur wasn’t what she would call silver—it was darker than that, more like Graystripe’s—but he had come into the world of the Tribe cats just as their warrior ancestors had promised.

“Does that mean…” Her voice shook and she had to start again. “Does that mean we’re going to leave him here?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Brambleclaw sounded determined.

“These are not our warrior ancestors. StarClan has nothing to do with this Tribe. But we can’t get him out by fighting, so we’ll have to do it another way. In the morning, when they tell us to leave, we’ll go without trouble. Then we’ll come sneak back and rescue Stormfur.”

The cats were silent for a moment, glancing at one another as if they were weighing the idea. Feathertail began to feel the first faint stirrings of hope. Then she noticed that the cave-guards were watching them suspiciously; had they overheard?

She flicked her ears, and the Clan cats, following her gaze, huddled more closely together.

Crowpaw spoke softly. “That’s easy to say.” He sounded doubtful, but he wasn’t sneering anymore. “We’d still have to get into that inner cave, and the whole place is crawling with cave-guards.”

“We could wait until it’s dark,” Tawnypelt suggested.

“And the noise of the waterfall will hide our pawsteps,” Squirrelpaw added optimistically.

Crowpaw still looked uncertain. “I’m not sure—haven’t you noticed the Tribe cats are so used to it that they can hear a kit squeak at the other end of the cave?”

Feathertail knew he was right. She looked around, wondering if the darkness or the crashing of the torrent would help them at all. Moonlight rippled into the cave through the sheet of thundering water, but shadows fell thickly around the walls. Perhaps it would be possible. But however hard it seemed, they had to try. Stormfur was her brother.

“I’m willing to give it a try,” she announced. “You can leave me behind if you want.”

“Well, I for one—” Crowpaw began.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Feathertail interrupted. “I know we have to get StarClan’s message to the Clans before they’re destroyed along with the forest, but they don’t need all of us.

I can stay here.”

“Who said I was going to try to stop you?” Crowpaw demanded indignantly, his neck fur bristling. “I was going to say I’ll help, but if you don’t want me…”

“Don’t be mouse-brained.” Feathertail gave his ear a quick lick. “I’m sorry I misunderstood. Of course I want you with me.”

“I don’t think we should split up.” Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It’s all of us or none. We came on this journey together and we’ll finish it together—and that means Stormfur as well.” More briskly he added, “Let’s finish eating and get some sleep. We’ll need all our strength.”

Feathertail tried to obey him, forcing down the young hawk that the to-be had left for her, though she felt sick with apprehension. She tried to focus her thoughts on how loyal her friends from the other Clans were. It was hard to imagine that they would ever be able to separate back into their different Clans when they returned to the forest. How would she ever go back to her regular life without them?

She curled into her sleeping hollow, tired enough to sleep, then sat up again. What was that? She turned her head to one side and listened. She could hear voices whispering but there were no cats nearby, except for the Clan cats, and they were all asleep. Twitching her ears, Feathertail froze. The voices were coming from the waterfall, almost hidden among the rushing, hissing water. She strained to make out what they were saying.

The silver cat has come, they seemed to whisper. Sharptooth will be destroyed.

No, Feathertail argued silently, instinctively. She didn’t stop to figure out who she was talking to. You’re wrong. Stormfur is not your cat. He must come with us.

She waited for a reply, but the voices had vanished into the roar of the water, and Feathertail began to wonder if she had even heard them at all. A long time passed; moonlight crept across the floor of the cave and faded before exhaustion overcame her and she finally fell into a troubled sleep.

A paw roughly shaking her shoulder woke Feathertail, and she looked up into the stern face of Crag. “It’s time to go,” he announced.

Other guards were rousing her friends. As she stumbled drowsily out of her sleeping hollow, she saw Stoneteller standing at the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Cave of Pointed Stones. Two more cave-guards stood alertly beside him, and Feathertail thought she could make out more in the tunnel itself; the Tribe cats were making sure that Stormfur was too heavily guarded for any sort of rescue attempt.

“We will take you to the edge of our territory and show you the best way through the rest of the mountains,” Crag meowed.

“What about Stormfur?” Brambleclaw asked, shaking a feather from his pelt. “We can’t go without him.”

The ThunderClan warrior’s last attempt to free his friend peacefully was doomed to failure; Crag was shaking his head before he finished speaking. “You can’t take him with you,” he meowed. “His destiny is to stay here and save our Tribe from Sharptooth. We will care for him and honor him.”

“So that makes it all right, then?” Crowpaw muttered disgustedly.

The cave-guards gathered around the Clan cats and forced them toward the entrance. Feathertail noticed that Crowpaw was still limping from the blow he had taken from the cave-guard the night before.

“Are you okay to travel?” she murmured in his ear.

“I don’t have much choice, have I?” he meowed disagreeably, only to turn to her a moment later and touch his nose to her muzzle. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”

Just before they reached the waterfall, Feathertail heard her name, and turned to see Brook bounding toward her.

“I… I wanted to say farewell,” she mewed as she came up.

“I’m sorry it turned out like this. But without your brother, Sharptooth will destroy the whole Tribe.”

Feathertail gazed into the young prey-hunter’s eyes. She knew Brook believed what she was saying, but she couldn’t forget how Stormfur had thought that this cat was his friend.

Stormfur didn’t make friends easily—a legacy of being half-Clan, always feeling as if he had more to prove than other warriors, as if he could never fight hard enough or catch enough prey. Feathertail had watched this she-cat win her brother’s trust, but now she had betrayed him, and would probably see him die in a battle with Sharptooth for the sake of her Tribe.

“Come on.” Crowpaw brushed his tail against Feathertail’s flank, already damp from the spray of the waterfall.

Feathertail turned away from Brook without another word.

As she padded along the narrow path, she strained to hear the voices in the thundering water, but today she heard only the ceaseless pounding of foam.

Whoever you are, she vowed silently, we will come back for my brother. He is ours, and his destiny lies far away from here.

The forest cats traveled through the mountains until almost sunhigh. The cave-guards kept pace with them on either side, their gaze fixed on the path ahead. They did not even stop to hunt, and the tense silence made every hair tingle on Feathertail’s pelt.

She tried to study every rock, every tree, every twist in the path, hoping that they would be able to follow their own scent trail back to the cave. The rocky slopes were more familiar to her now, but all the paths still looked the same. In contrast, the cave-guards seemed to know exactly where they were going, sometimes doubling back to avoid boulders or cliffs.

Once Crag led them down a slope of shifting scree to a mountain stream. “Drink,” he ordered, flicking his tail at the tumbling water.

Crowpaw’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the slippery rocks by the waterside, and Tawnypelt exchanged a suspicious glance with her brother.

“We’re not going to push you in,” Crag mewed irritably.

“You must learn to drink when you can in the mountains.”

Still wary, the forest cats crouched down and lapped the icy water.

The air was crisp and cold, with the sun shining in a pale blue sky. Wind ruffled their fur, but there was no sign of rain to wash away the scent trail. To Feathertail’s relief, Crowpaw’s limp didn’t seem to be bothering him, and grew less apparent as the young cat exercised his injured leg. Tawnypelt was also managing well; although Feathertail saw her flinch once or twice when she had to cope with a difficult leap, she did not complain.

After a scramble over steep rocks, Crag brought them to a halt.

“This is the edge of our territory,” he announced, though there were no scent markers to indicate a border. “You must go on alone from here.”

Relief stabbed through Feathertail. She couldn’t wait to get away from the cave-guards and their stern, silent looks.

“Head for that mountain,” Crag went on, pointing with his tail at a sharp peak, its upper slopes streaked with the white of snow. “A path winds around it to greener lands beyond.

You should be safe from Sharptooth until night falls.”

Feathertail thought he put too much stress on Sharptooth, as if there were other dangers lurking among the rocks. Her suspicions hardened when she saw one of the other guards give him a warning glance. “Go on,” the Tribe cat meowed roughly, giving her no chance to ask any questions, “while there’s still plenty of daylight.”

He dipped his head to Brambleclaw. “Farewell,” he meowed. “I wish we could have met in a happier time. Our Tribes have much to teach each other.”

“There’s nothing I want to learn from you,” Squirrelpaw muttered, and for once Crowpaw looked as if he agreed with her.

“I wish that too.” Brambleclaw shot an icy glance at his companions to silence them. “But there cannot be friendship between us while you keep our friend a prisoner.”

Crag bowed his head again; he looked genuinely regretful.

“That is our fate and his, as our warrior ancestors have promised. Just as yours have made a promise to you.”

He called the rest of his patrol around him with a flick of his tail, and all the cave-guards waited while Brambleclaw led the Clan cats up a grassy slope. Soon the grass gave way to loose stones, leading upward to a ridge of spiky rock.

Brambleclaw paused at the top. Feathertail glanced back to see that Crag and the other cave-guards were still watching them with unblinking stares.

“They’re making sure we leave,” Tawnypelt growled. “That means they’ll probably be looking out in case we come back.”

Crowpaw shrugged. “Their loss.” He flexed his claws against the bare rock. “If we meet a patrol out here, they’re crowfood.”

Brambleclaw flashed him a glance. “We’ll do this without fighting, if we can,” he mewed. “Remember that we can’t afford injuries this far from home. Meanwhile,” he added, “let’s keep going, and make them think we’ve given up.”

He led the way between the rocks. On the other side the land fell away sharply into a grassy hollow. A spring of water bubbled out of a crevice and fell into a small pool. Two or three bushes grew beside it. The wind brought Feathertail the scent of rabbits.

“Can’t we stop here?” Squirrelpaw pleaded. “Remember what they said about drinking when we can? We could hunt, and rest until it’s time to go back.”

Brambleclaw hesitated. “Okay. But we’d better keep watch in case the cave-guards come to check on us.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Tawnypelt offered. “My shoulder’s fine,” she added. “And I’ll call you if there’s any trouble.”

Very cautiously, stepping as lightly as if she were stalking a mouse, she slid back between the rocks and disappeared.

Squirrelpaw was already bounding down into the hollow, calling out, “Come on! I’m starving!”

“She’ll frighten every scrap of prey from here to Highstones,” Crowpaw grumbled as Brambleclaw took off after her.

Feathertail watched as Brambleclaw caught up to the younger cat, and the two of them went on together, their pelts brushing. They had become very close during the journey, even if they didn’t quite realize it yet.

“Don’t mind Squirrelpaw,” she told Crowpaw. “Let’s go and see if there are any fish in that pool. I could give you a lesson, just in case you want to catch any fish when we get home.” She broke off and looked awkwardly down at the ground. “It’ll be a useful thing to know, whatever happens.”

Crowpaw brightened. “Okay.” He paused as if he wanted to say something more, then without a word bounded down the slope after the two ThunderClan cats. Feathertail followed, her mind buzzing with her feelings for Crowpaw as well as her fears for her brother. She approached the pool and gazed down into its blue depths. She and Crowpaw had plenty of time to figure out what they would do when they got back to the forest. She tried to push away the tiny, persistent voice that kept telling her that cats from different Clans couldn’t be together without causing a whole heap of trouble. She shook her head impatiently; right now, the only thing any of them should be thinking about was finding prey to give them strength for Stormfur’s rescue.

A silver flash caught her eye and her paw shot out, claws extended, to hook a fish.

“Come over here,” she instructed Crowpaw, “so your shadow doesn’t fall on the water. And when you see a fish, be quick!”

Crowpaw came to join her, picking his way with a grimace around the muddy edge of the pool. He settled down at her side, but instead of peering into the water he looked into her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this, but… will you still see me when we get home?” He glanced down at his paws and added, “I want to be loyal to my Clan, but… there’s never been another cat like you, Feathertail.”

Feathertail’s pelt tingled with happiness and excitement.

She touched his muzzle with her nose, sensing the uncertainty that made it hard for him to believe that she could like him enough to cross Clan boundaries for him. “I know how you feel. We’ll have to wait and see. It might not be so bad.

With everything that’s happening in the forest, the Clans will have to come together.”

To her surprise, Crowpaw shook his head. “I don’t see how. There have always been four Clans.”

“Well, maybe always is going to change,” she meowed quietly. “Now, what about that fish?”

Crowpaw brushed her shoulder with his tail, and crouched down over the water. A few heartbeats later his paw shot out.

A fish curved up out of the water and fell wriggling on the ground; Crowpaw grabbed it in his jaws before it could slide back into the pool.

Feathertail jumped up and pushed her nose against his shoulder. “Well done! We’ll make a RiverClan cat of you yet.”

She broke off, confused, and Crowpaw blinked in understanding.

His eyes were shining; Feathertail wished their companions could see this side of him, eager and enthusiastic, instead of the defensive, difficult face he chose to show to them.

She was distracted by a movement at the top of the rocks and looked up to see Tawnypelt crouched on the smooth stone.

“The cave-guards have gone,” the ShadowClan warrior called down to them. “But I’ll stay on watch.”

Not long after, Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw returned from their hunting expedition with a couple of rabbits and a few mice; along with Feathertail’s and Crowpaw’s fish there was enough fresh-kill for all of them.

They each took a turn on watch, but there was no sign of any Tribe cats. They spent the rest of the day in the shelter of the bushes. Feathertail felt more at home out here, in the silent open air, than in the stuffy, noise-filled cave.

Clouds gathered in the sky, gray and ominous, covering the sun. The wind dropped; the air became heavy and damp, as if there were a storm coming.

At last the daylight faded and shadows began to thicken in the hollow.

Brambleclaw rose to his paws. “It’s time,” he meowed.

He took a few pawsteps back up the slope; as the others followed, Feathertail suddenly noticed how easily they could be seen against the rocks, especially Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger pelt and her own light gray fur.

“This is never going to work. They’re bound to spot us coming,” she mewed anxiously.

“Wait.” Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t we roll ourselves in the mud? Then we’d look like Tribe cats, especially in the dark. It would help to hide our scent too.”

Tawnypelt gave her a look full of respect. “That has to be the best idea I’ve heard for a moon.”

Squirrelpaw’s green eyes glowed, and she hurried back to the pool and began nosing around the edge. “There’s plenty of mud here!” she called, beginning to roll in a sticky patch to plaster her fur.

Crowpaw’s whiskers twitched in disgust as he and the others followed. “Just the sort of idea she would dream up. Clever, though,” he admitted grudgingly.

Feathertail winced as she padded to the edge of the pool and felt mud ooze around her paws. Cold seeped through to her skin as she lay down in the glutinous hollow, thinking that at least her thick RiverClan pelt was suited to getting wet.

Crowpaw would be much more uncomfortable with his thin, wind-flattened fur, although for once he didn’t complain. She blinked fondly at him, remembering what he’d said earlier about wanting to see her when they got home. Right now, she didn’t want to ever let him out of her sight.

Their pelts streaked and spiky with the mud, the Clan cats climbed back to the ridge and down the slope on the other side, warily crossing back into the Tribe’s territory.

Feathertail pricked her ears, alert for the sound of other cats, and they all stopped every few paces to sniff the air. Even with Squirrelpaw’s disguise, there was a huge risk that they would be spotted, and no cat was sure how far the Tribe cats would go to keep Stormfur. Feathertail knew how desperate they were that their ancestors’ prophecy should come true.

She and her friends could all be returning to their deaths.

Brambleclaw’s nose was almost touching the path as he sniffed out their scent trail from that morning. Feathertail tried hard to remember the landmarks they had passed, but everything looked different in the gathering darkness. They were padding down a steep path between broken rocks when Crowpaw suddenly halted, his muzzle raised and his jaws parted. Then he whirled on Feathertail and pushed her behind a rock, signaling wildly with his tail for the other cats to hide too.

A heartbeat later, Feathertail caught the same scent: Tribe cats! Peering out cautiously, she saw a patrol of lithe prey-hunters bounding along the path in the same direction, their jaws filled with prey, their escort of cave-guards around them.

She tensed, waiting for them to pick up the intruders’ scent and turn to attack, but they passed her hiding place without pause and disappeared into the darkness. Squirrelpaw’s mud must have masked their scent, as they’d hoped.

“That’s twice I saved you,” Crowpaw teased, stepping away to let Feathertail stand up straight.

She touched noses with him with a purr of amusement. “I know. I won’t forget it; don’t worry.”

Brambleclaw emerged from among the rocks at the other side of the path, signaling to the others to move on. This time Tawnypelt brought up the rear, keeping a lookout behind in case more prey-hunters were on their way home. The moon was just rising over the topmost peaks, a fuzzy white glow behind the covering of clouds, when they came to the river.

Still alert for the sound of other Tribe cats, they followed the rushing water until they heard the roar of the waterfall in the distance.

“Quiet now,” Brambleclaw whispered. “We’re getting close.”

Silently they padded on until they reached the top of the falls. Feathertail crouched at the edge of the river, watching the dark water slide over the lip of the rock. Then a flash of lightning split the sky overhead, and above the thunder of the water she heard a rumbling in the sky.

“Storm’s coming,” Crowpaw breathed into her ear.

A fat drop of rain landed on Feathertail’s head, and she shook it off. The noise and confusion of a storm might help them, but then she wondered if it would drive more cats than usual into the cave. Stormfur was heavily guarded already—they couldn’t hope to take on the whole of the Tribe.

“Let’s go,” Squirrelpaw muttered impatiently.

Lightning flashed and another roll of thunder crashed overhead as the cats peered down. Feathertail could just make out the foaming white of the water as it fell into the pool. Then she thought she saw a movement in the darkness at the end of the path.

“What’s that?” Crowpaw had seen it too.

As if in answer, another claw of lightning crackled across the sky. Feathertail heard Tawnypelt gasp in horror. For a single heartbeat that seemed to last forever, the white flash lit up the shape of a huge tawny-colored cat slinking along the path; it paused as the thunder pounded the sky, then padded on to disappear behind the waterfall.

Sharptooth!