Moonrise

Chapter 23

Stormfur froze. It was too soon!

The outlaws dived for the cave walls, and the Tribe cats who had not already taken up their positions pelted down the tunnel to the Cave of Pointed Stones. Stormfur and his friends were left in the center of the cavern, staring around in panic.

Their moment’s hesitation was a moment too long. A ferocious snarling sliced through the noise of the waterfall.

A shadow fell across from the entrance, etched in moonlight.

Then Sharptooth burst upon them.

Just as the Tribe had said, he looked like a lion from the elders’ tales, but without the fiery mane around his head.

Lean muscles rippled beneath his short-haired pelt, and his massive gold head was lowered, following the trail of Talon’s blood. When he entered the cave he looked up. He saw the hare, and swiped it aside with one vast paw.

“No!” Squirrelpaw yowled.

Her screech brought the huge head swinging around, the round, thick-furred ears twitching with interest.

“Get back!” snarled Brambleclaw. “All of you, hide!”

He leaped toward the lion-cat, lashing out with both front paws and rolling aside before Sharptooth could turn on him.

Stormfur saw Squirrelpaw dash in from the other side and spring onto Sharptooth’s back, sinking her claws into the base of his tail.

“Squirrelpaw!” Brambleclaw yowled. “What in StarClan’s name are you doing?”

As the lion-cat twisted, trying to dislodge her, Squirrelpaw leaped down and fled for the boulders that lined the cave wall. With a roar of fury, Sharptooth launched himself after her, but she was too fast for him, scrambling out of reach to stand hissing on a jutting piece of rock, her ginger fur fluffed up.

Stormfur fled to the opposite cave wall, following Feathertail up a series of cracks in the rock until they reached a tiny ledge tucked under the roof. Crouching in the narrow space beside his sister, he looked down at the cave floor.

The Tribe cats were all in their hiding places, too scared to move. Brambleclaw had gained safety too, on another ledge just below Squirrelpaw. He was snarling up at her, looking almost as furious as Sharptooth himself; Stormfur couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he could guess.

For a moment Stormfur could not see Tawnypelt; then he spotted her head poking out of a cleft halfway up the cave wall near the entrance. That just left Crowpaw. Then Stormfur felt Feathertail tense against him and heard her murmur, “Oh, no!”

Sharptooth was scraping at the cave wall almost directly below them. Stormfur caught a terrifying glimpse of his eyes, glaring black in the moonlight, and his lips drawn back to reveal savage, dripping fangs. Crowpaw was trapped in a crevice at floor level that was too shallow to shelter him, desperately trying to press himself against the rock and escape the vicious claws. A cry of terror escaped him.

Stormfur felt his belly flip over. Everything was going wrong. Sharptooth had ignored the baited hare and pursued the cats instead. Within heartbeats he would have Crowpaw, and StarClan’s mission would be ruined. How could four Clans become one if the WindClan cat were killed? Stormfur cursed himself under his breath; there was nothing that he could do, because he was not the cat the Tribe’s warrior ancestors had promised. His stupid, thoughtless pride had gotten it wrong.

Beside him, he heard Feathertail whisper, “Crowpaw.” She gave Stormfur a long look, filled with love and sorrow, her blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. “I can hear the voices clearly now,” she murmured. “This is for me to do.”

Then Stormfur felt her muscles bunch. Before he realized what she was doing, she leaped—not down, but up toward the cave roof, digging her claws into one of the narrow talons of stone with a grating noise that sent shudders along Stormfur’s spine.

“No!” he yowled.

The rock split and broke away under Feathertail’s weight.

With a terrifying wail she plummeted down, straight at Sharptooth. The lion-cat looked up. His throaty growl changed to a scream as the spike of rock plunged into him; he fell writhing to the ground. Feathertail plummeted to the floor of the cave beside him.

Stormfur hurled himself down the wall, slipping on the rock and feeling his claws rip, until he reached his sister’s side.

Feathertail lay without moving, her eyes closed. Sharptooth was still twitching, but as Stormfur scrambled to a halt the lion-cat gave one massive shudder and died.

“Feathertail?” Stormfur whispered.

He was aware of Crowpaw creeping out of the rock to crouch beside him. “Feathertail?” The WindClan cat sounded desperate. “Feathertail, are you okay?”

Feathertail did not move. Stormfur lifted his head and saw the other Clan cats gathering around him, along with cats from the Tribe, creeping fearfully from their hiding places.

He dropped his gaze back to his sister, and saw the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“She’ll be fine.” His voice cracked. “She’s got to be. She… she has a prophecy to fulfill.”

Crowpaw crept forward until his nose touched Feathertail’s fur. He breathed in her scent, and then began to lick her gently. Blood from a slash on his shoulder smudged against her pelt. “Wake up, Feathertail,” he whispered.

“Please wake up.”

There was no response. An achingly familiar scent wreathed around Stormfur, and he looked up. “Silverstream?”

Near the entrance to the cave, where moonlight rippled through the sheet of falling water, he thought that he could see a silver cat. She was nothing more than the faintest sliver of light, but her voice sounded clearly in his head, filled with grief. “Oh, Feathertail!”

There was a gasp from Crowpaw and Stormfur snatched his gaze back to see that his sister’s eyes were open. Trembling, he spoke her name. She shifted her head and blinked.

“You’ll have to go home without me, brother,” she murmured. “Save the Clan!”

Her eyes focused on Crowpaw, and Stormfur saw in them a lifetime of love for the difficult young apprentice, enough to sweep their Clans’ rivalry away forever. “Think you have nine lives, do you?” she whispered. “I saved you once…

Don’t make me save you again.”

“Feathertail… Feathertail, no!” Crowpaw could hardly get the words out. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” Now her whisper was scarcely audible. “I’ll always be with you, I promise.”

Then her eyes closed, and she did not speak again.

Crowpaw threw his head back and let out a wail.

Stormfur crouched beside his sister with his head down, grief freezing his limbs. Around him he heard the voices of his friends rise in sorrow. Squirrelpaw huddled close to Brambleclaw, murmuring, “She can’t be dead—she can’t be!” Brambleclaw bent his head to lick her ear. Beside them Tawnypelt stared at Feathertail with misery in her amber eyes.

The Tribe cats started whispering to one another. Somewhere deeper in the cave a yowl of jubilation broke out.

“Sharptooth is dead! We are free!”

Stormfur flinched. The price had been too high. He turned his head toward the mouth of the cave, where the faint outline of the silver cat still stood in the moonlight.

Silverstream’s voice came to him through the roar of the water. “My dear son, try not to grieve too long. Feathertail will hunt with StarClan now. I will take care of her.”

“We took care of her,” Stormfur replied bitterly, and then he realized that he was lying. They had failed. If they hadn’t, she would not be lying there, dead, her fur glowing silver in the moonlight.

“She came,” whispered Brook. “The silver cat came.”

“No,” Stormfur growled. “I brought her.”

Crowpaw turned his head, a terrible blank look in his eyes. “It’s my fault.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “If I’d refused to come back to the cave, she would have stayed with me.”

“No…” Stormfur murmured, reaching out one paw, but Crowpaw bowed his head.

A gentle voice said his name. Brook had drawn close to him, with Stoneteller behind her. Shyly she touched her nose to Stormfur’s muzzle. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“The Tribe of Endless Hunting spoke truly,” Stoneteller meowed. “A silver cat has saved us all.”

But it wasn’t me, thought Stormfur. I wish it had been.

He turned away from where Crowpaw lay beside Feathertail, his nose pushed into her fur, and looked at the sheet of falling water. Just for a heartbeat, he thought that he saw two silver cats there shimmering in the half-light, side by side, watching over the shattered remnants of the questing Clan cats.

He blinked, and they were gone.