Moonrise

Chapter 15

A terrible shrieking broke out in the cave, slicing through the sound of the rain pattering around them and even the noise of the falls. Feathertail sprang to her paws; every hair on her pelt told her to flee as far from the cave as she could. Only the thought of the danger that Stormfur was in made her stay where she was.

“Come on!” Brambleclaw’s voice was tense.

The rest of the cats stared at him in disbelief.

“Down there?” Crowpaw demanded. “Are you mouse-brained?”

“Think!” Brambleclaw was already bounding toward the cave entrance; he paused and swung around to face the apprentice. “With Sharptooth in the cave, no cat will notice us. This might be our only chance to get Stormfur out.”

Without waiting to see if the others were following he leaped down the rocks toward the path.

“I still think he’s crazy!” muttered Crowpaw, but he followed all the same.

Feathertail scrambled down after them, her paws sliding on the wet rocks, her claws scraping painfully as she tried to keep her balance. She ran along the ledge behind the falls with barely enough time to be afraid of slipping and falling into the turbulent pool below. The screeching grew louder.

Terror surged through Feathertail as she imagined what they would find inside the cave; Sharptooth might be sinking his fangs into Stormfur’s neck at that very moment, clawing her brother’s pelt and turning him into fresh-kill.

She skidded into the cave and halted just behind Brambleclaw. For a moment she could hardly make sense of what she was seeing. With the moon covered by clouds, the cave was almost dark; the huge shape of Sharptooth seemed to be everywhere at once, massive paws pounding on the floor as he sprang from wall to wall, blood spattered against his flanks and saliva dripping from his jaws. This was more terrible than Feathertail had ever imagined—there was no way Stormfur could challenge this beast and survive.

The Tribe cats scattered, scrambling blindly out of their sleeping hollows. Feathertail caught a glimpse of Brook, hus-tling a kit down the tunnel that led to the nursery, with another dangling from her jaws. Near the other tunnel, a cave-guard was clinging to the huge lion-cat’s neck, only to be thrown off and flung against the wall with a sickening thud.

The cave-guard slid to the floor and lay still, a trickle of blood running from its mouth. While Feathertail stared in horror, two or three cats fled past her with shrill cries, blundering against the Clan cats without realizing who they were.

“This way!” Brambleclaw ordered. He looked at each Clan cat in turn, his gaze resting longest on Squirrelpaw. “We have to do this for Stormfur,” he reminded them.

Sharptooth had pounded across to leap up the far wall of the cave, trying to reach a Tribe cat who cowered on a ledge just above the vicious claws. Skirting the cave walls, clinging to the darkest corners, Brambleclaw headed for the tunnel leading to the Cave of Pointed Stones. Feathertail and the others followed. In the blackness they stumbled against Tribe cats, some wounded, others frozen in fear, but the terror and blood-scent filling the cave were so strong that no cat recognized them.

At the tunnel entrance, two cave-guards still held their positions, their fur standing on end and their eyes stretched wide. Feathertail felt a flash of respect for their courage, to stay there when all their Tribemates were running for their lives.

“Now!” Brambleclaw and Crowpaw launched themselves at the cave-guards, their claws slashing and their teeth bared.

Squirrelpaw was only a heartbeat behind them. Feathertail heard an exclamation of astonishment from one of the guards, and recognized Crag’s voice. She saw Brambleclaw bowl him over and fasten his teeth in the cave-guard’s neck fur, while Crowpaw cuffed the other guard on both ears, drawing him away from the tunnel entrance. Squirrelpaw sank her teeth into Crag’s tail and held on.

With the entrance clear, Feathertail and Tawnypelt darted down the tunnel. Before they reached the Cave of Pointed Stones they met two other cats, barely visible in the darkness.

With a surge of relief and joy Feathertail recognized Stormfur’s scent. The other cat was Stoneteller; she glimpsed his blazing eyes as he pelted past her and launched himself into the outer cave.

“Quick!” the Tribe leader yowled to Stormfur. “Your time has come. Oh, Tribe of Endless Hunting, help us now!”

“Feathertail!” Stormfur exclaimed. “What’s happening?”

For a moment Feathertail was content just to drink in his scent and twine her tail with his. She had been afraid they’d find the Cave of Pointed Stones empty, that Stormfur would have already been sent out to do battle with the lion-cat, and that his body had been one of those bleeding in the corners of the cave.

“There’s no time for that!” Tawnypelt snapped. “Head for the entrance. Don’t stop for anything.”

She dashed back down the tunnel, and Feathertail and Stormfur followed. As they reached the outer cave, a shriek ripped through the darkness, louder than thunder. A flash of lightning revealed Sharptooth backing toward the entrance.

His jaws were clamped around a Tribe cat; with a shudder of pure horror Feathertail recognized Star, the kit-mother who had spoken to them when they first arrived. Her mouth was open in a desperate wordless yowl, and her claws scored the earth floor as she fought vainly to free herself. Then all was dark again; Feathertail saw the faint outline of the lion-cat against the sheet of water as it whipped around and vanished through the entrance.

For a heartbeat a shocked silence filled the cave. Then a shrill wail of loss rose all around. Feathertail felt a cat nudge her roughly and spun around to see Brambleclaw.

“Out—now!” he rasped.

He bounded toward the entrance with Squirrelpaw and Tawnypelt hard on his paws. Crowpaw thrust Feathertail after him, though she did not move until she was sure Stormfur was following too. No cat tried to stop them; all the Tribe were still gripped by terror, crouched low on the cave floor or gazing after Sharptooth with bristling fur and their eyes glazed with fear.

At the entrance Brambleclaw paused, sniffed the air, and then led the way along the path. Feathertail detected Sharptooth’s scent, mingled with Star’s fear-scent and the reek of blood, but they were fading. The predator had gone, carrying his prey with him and leaving many more cats dead or wounded.

Sheets of rain were falling steadily, gusted by the wind, and thunder rumbled out again overhead. Feathertail was soaked within a couple of heartbeats, her fur plastered to her body, but she scarcely noticed. She followed Brambleclaw up the rocks as he led the Clan cats back the way they had come.

Behind them, the Tribe’s heartbroken wailing died away, drowned in the pattering rain and the endless, unchanging roar of the waterfall.