Moonrise

Chapter 1

Stormfur opened his eyes, blinking away sleep, and struggled to remember where he was. Instead of his nest of reeds in the RiverClan camp, he was lying curled in dry, crunchy bracken.

Above his head was the earth roof of a cave, crisscrossed with tangled roots. He could hear a rhythmic roaring sound faintly in the distance. At first it puzzled him; then he remembered how close they were to the sun-drown water, washing endlessly onto the edge of the land. He flinched as a vision burst into his mind, of how he and Brambleclaw had struggled in the water for their lives; he spat, still tasting the salty tang at the back of his throat. At home in RiverClan he was used to water—his was the only Clan that could swim comfortably in the river that ran through the forest—but not this surging, salty, pushing-and-pulling water, too strong even for a RiverClan cat to swim in safely.

Other memories came rushing back. StarClan had sent cats from each of the four Clans on a long, dangerous journey, to hear what Midnight had to tell them. They had fought their way across unknown country, through Twoleg nests, facing attacks from dogs and rats, to make the last incredible discovery: that Midnight was a badger.

Stormfur felt ice creeping along his limbs as he recalled Midnight’s dreadful message. Twolegs were destroying the forest to make a new Thunderpath. All the Clans would have to leave, and it was the task of StarClan’s chosen cats to warn them and lead them to a new home.

Stormfur sat up and looked around the cave. Faint light filtered down the tunnel that led out onto the clifftop, along with a gentle current of fresh air that carried the scent of salt water. Midnight the badger was nowhere to be seen. Close beside Stormfur, his sister, Feathertail, was sleeping, her tail curled over her nose. Just beyond her was Tawnypelt, the fierce ShadowClan warrior; Stormfur was relieved to see that she was resting quietly, as if the rat bite she had suffered in the Twolegplace was troubling her less. Midnight’s store of herbs had yielded something to soothe the infection and help her sleep. On the opposite side of the cave, a little way apart, was the WindClan apprentice Crowpaw, his dark gray pelt barely visible among the fronds of bracken. Nearest the cave entrance, Tawnypelt’s brother, Brambleclaw, was stretched out beside Squirrelpaw, who slept in a tight ball. Stormfur felt a stab of jealousy at the sight of the two ThunderClan cats close together, and tried to push it away. He had no right to admire Squirrelpaw, and her courage and bright optimism, as much as he did, when they came from different Clans.

Brambleclaw would make her a much better mate.

Stormfur knew that he ought to rouse his companions so that they could begin their long journey back to the forest.

Yet he was strangely reluctant. Let them sleep a little longer, he thought. We’ll need all our strength for what lies ahead.

Shaking scraps of bracken from his pelt, he picked his way across the sandy floor of the cave and out through the tunnel.

A stiff breeze ruffled his fur as he emerged onto the springy grass. He was dry at last, after his near-drowning the night before, and sleep had refreshed him. He stood gazing around him; just ahead was the edge of the cliff and beyond it lay an endless stretch of shimmering water, reflecting the pale light of dawn.

Stormfur opened his jaws to drink in the air and catch the scent of prey. Instead his senses were flooded by a strong reek of badger. He caught sight of Midnight sitting on the highest point of the cliff, her small, bright eyes fixed on the fading stars. In the sky behind her, on the far side of the moorland, a strip of creamy light showed where the sun would rise.

Stormfur padded over, dipping his head respectfully before sitting beside her.

“Good morning, gray warrior,” Midnight’s voice rumbled in welcome. “Sleep you have enough?”

“Yes. Thanks, Midnight.” Stormfur still found it strange to be exchanging friendly greetings with her, when badgers had always been deadly enemies of the warrior Clans.

Yet Midnight was no ordinary badger. She seemed closer to StarClan than any warrior, except perhaps the medicine cats; she had traveled far and somehow had found the wisdom to foretell the future.

Stormfur gave her a sidelong glance, to see her eyes still fixed on the remaining stars in the dawn sky. “Can you really read signs there from StarClan?” he asked curiously, half hoping that her terrible predictions from the night before would vanish in the light of morning.

“Much is to be read everywhere,” the badger replied. “In stars, in running water, in flash of light on waves. Whole world speaks, if ears are open to listen.”

“I must be deaf, then,” Stormfur meowed. “The future seems dark to me.”

“Not so, gray warrior,” rasped Midnight. “See.” She pointed with her snout across the sun-drown water to where a single warrior of StarClan still shone brightly just above the horizon.

“StarClan has seen our meeting. Pleased they are, and help they will give in dark days coming.”

Stormfur gazed up at the brilliant point of light and let out a faint sigh. He was no medicine cat, accustomed to sharing tongues with their warrior ancestors. His task was to offer his strength and skill in the service of his Clan—and now, it seemed, of all the forest cats. Midnight had made it clear that each and every Clan would be destroyed if they could not ignore the ancient boundaries and work together for once.

“Midnight, when we go home—”

His question was never finished. A yowl interrupted him, and he turned to see Squirrelpaw burst out of the tunnel that led down into the badger’s sett. She stood in the entrance, her dark ginger fur fluffed up and her ears pricked.

“I’m starving!” she announced. “Where’s the prey around here?”

“Budge up, and let the rest of us out.” Crowpaw’s irritable voice sounded behind her. “Then we might be able to tell you.”

Squirrelpaw bounced forward a few paces, and the WindClan apprentice emerged, followed closely by Feathertail.

She stretched with pleasure in the sunlight. Stormfur got up and bounded over the tough moorland grass so he could touch noses with his sister. He had not been one of StarClan’s original chosen cats, but he had insisted on coming on the journey to protect Feathertail. With their mother dead and their father living in a different Clan, the two cats were much closer than ordinary siblings.

Midnight lumbered after him and nodded a greeting to the cats.

“Tawnypelt’s much better this morning,” Feathertail reported. “She says her shoulder hardly hurts at all.” To Midnight she added, “That burdock root you gave her really helped.”

“Root is good,” the badger rumbled. “Now injured warrior travel well.”

As she spoke, Tawnypelt herself appeared from the tunnel; Stormfur was relieved to see that she looked stronger after her long sleep and was scarcely limping at all.

Following Tawnypelt, her brother, Brambleclaw, pushed his way out of the tunnel and stood blinking in the growing light. “The sun’s nearly up,” he meowed. “It’s time we were on our way.”

“But we have to eat first!” Squirrelpaw wailed. “My belly is growling louder than a monster on the Thunderpath! I could eat a fox, fur and all.”

Stormfur had to agree with her. Hunger clawed at his own belly, and he knew that without food they would not be able to face the long and exhausting journey back to the forest. Yet he shared Brambleclaw’s urgency; how would they feel if they delayed too long, and then discovered cats had died because of it?

A look of exasperation flitted over Brambleclaw’s face. His voice was firm as he replied, “We’ll pick up some prey as we go. And once we get back to the woods where we made camp, we’ll have a proper hunt.”

“Bossy furball,” Squirrelpaw muttered.

“Brambleclaw’s right,” Tawnypelt meowed. “Who knows what’s happening at home? There’s no time to waste.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the other cats. Even Crowpaw, who usually challenged Brambleclaw’s decisions even more than Squirrelpaw, had nothing to say. With a slight shock, Stormfur realized that their long journey, and the threat to all their Clans, had changed them from a group of squabbling rivals into a unified force with a single purpose, to save their Clanmates and the warrior code that had protected them for so long. A warm feeling of belonging swept over Stormfur. His loyalty toward RiverClan was complicated—knowing how their half-Clan heritage made other warriors suspicious of him and Feathertail—but here he knew he had found friends who judged him without thinking about Clan differences all the time.

Brambleclaw paced forward until he stood in front of Midnight. “The thanks of all the Clans go with you,” he mewed.

Midnight grunted. “Time is not yet for farewell. I come with you as far as woods, make sure you know right path.”

Without waiting for the cats to agree or thank her, she lumbered off across the moor. Ahead of her, the sky had become too bright to look at as the sun began to edge its way above the horizon. Stormfur blinked gratefully at the yellow light. The setting sun had guided them on their journey to find the sun-drown place; now the rising sun would guide them home.

The four chosen cats—along with Stormfur and Squirrelpaw, who had come with Brambleclaw after an argument with her father, Firestar—had set out from the forest blindly following a half-understood prophecy from StarClan.

Now that they had discovered what the prophecy meant, it was easier to decide what to do next, but at the same time it was terrifying to know just how much danger their Clans were in.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Squirrelpaw asked, dashing off to overtake Midnight.

Her Clanmate Brambleclaw followed more slowly, looking deep in thought, as if he were imagining all the difficulties they would have to face on their way back to the forest. At his side, Tawnypelt seemed refreshed from her night’s rest, and even though she was still limping, her eyes showed nothing but determination to make the long journey home. Feathertail trotted with her tail up, clearly enjoying the bright morning, while Crowpaw loped along beside her, keeping his ears pricked and his muscles tense, as if he were already anticipating trouble.

Stormfur, bringing up the rear, breathed a swift prayer to StarClan. Guide our paws, and bring us all safely home.

As the sun climbed higher, the sky became a deep, clear blue, dotted with fluffy scraps of cloud. The weather was warm and kind for so late in leaf-fall. A breeze swept over the grass, and Stormfur’s mouth watered as he caught the scent of rabbit. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white tail bobbing as the rabbit vanished over the crest of a gentle slope.

Instantly Crowpaw darted after it.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Brambleclaw called after him, but the WindClan apprentice was gone. The tabby warrior’s tail lashed irritably. “Does he ever listen?”

“He won’t be long,” Feathertail soothed him. “You could hardly expect him to ignore a rabbit when it pops up right under our noses.”

Brambleclaw’s only reply was another swish of his tail.

“I’ll fetch him back,” Stormfur meowed, bunching his muscles to spring in pursuit.

Before he could move, the dark gray apprentice reappeared at the top of the rise. He was dragging the rabbit with him; it was almost as big as he was.

“Here,” he meowed ungraciously as he dumped it on the ground. “That didn’t take long, did it? I suppose we’re allowed to stop and eat it?”

“Of course,” Brambleclaw replied. “Sorry, Crowpaw. I’d forgotten how fast WindClan cats can be. This… this moorland must feel like home to you.”

Crowpaw acknowledged the apology with a curt nod as all six cats crowded around the fresh-kill. Stormfur stopped short when he noticed a glow of admiration in Feathertail’s eyes. Surely his sister couldn’t be interested in Crowpaw? All he ever did was argue and push himself forward as if he were already a warrior. A cat from another Clan—and an apprentice at that!—had no right to start padding after Feathertail.

And whatever did Feathertail see in him? Didn’t she know the problems this sort of thing could cause—hadn’t she learned that from their own parents?

Then Stormfur’s gaze slid across to Squirrelpaw. Had he any right to criticize Feathertail, when he liked Squirrelpaw so much? But then, he told himself, any cat would like the brave, intelligent ThunderClan apprentice. And he knew better than to start something with a cat from another Clan, when they couldn’t possibly have a future together.

Stormfur sighed and began gulping his share of the rabbit.

He hoped he was imagining things; after all, any cat might admire Crowpaw’s speed in catching them prey when they were all hungry. Surely that was all Feathertail was feeling.

While the cats ate, Midnight waited a few paces away.

Stormfur saw her tearing at the moorland grass with her strong, blunt claws, snuffling up the grubs and beetles she disturbed. Her eyes were screwed up, as if she found it hard to search for food in the strong sunlight, but she said nothing, and as soon as the cats had eaten all they could of Crowpaw’s prey, she set off once more toward the rising sun.

Even with Midnight to lead them by the most direct route, it was sunhigh by the time they reached the crest of a gentle hill and saw the edge of the woods in front of them. The shade underneath the trees looked as inviting as running water to Stormfur after traveling through the heat of the unprotected moorland. For one brief moment, he let himself imagine an afternoon of hunting, then settling down full-fed for a sleep under the arching fronds of bracken, but he knew there was no chance of that.

As they drew closer to the woods, he spotted what looked like a heap of mottled brown fur in the long grass underneath a bush. His tail twitched in rueful recognition at the sight of the elderly tabby who had guided them—and nearly lost them forever—in the Twolegplace.

“Hey, Purdy!” Brambleclaw called. “We’re back!”

A large round head emerged from the bundle of fur, whiskers twitching and eyes blinking in confusion that gradually turned to welcome. The old cat scrambled to his paws and took a couple of paces toward them, shaking bits of dead leaf from his untidy pelt.

“Great StarClan!” he exclaimed. “I never reckoned I’d see you again.” Suddenly he broke off, his eyes fixed on something over Stormfur’s shoulder. “Don’t move a whisker!” he hissed. “There’s a badger behind you. Just let me deal with it.

I know a few fightin’ moves that—”

“It’s okay, Purdy,” Stormfur interrupted, while Squirrelpaw’s tail curled up with amusement. “This is Midnight. She’s a friend.”

The old tabby stared at Stormfur, his jaws gaping in astonishment. “A friend? You don’t make friends with a badger, young fellow. You can’t trust ’em a single mouselength.”

Stormfur gave Midnight an anxious look, wondering if the badger was offended by Purdy’s words. To his relief, she looked as amused as Squirrelpaw, her tiny black eyes gleaming.

“Come and meet Purdy,” Stormfur mewed to her. “He guided us through Twolegplace.”

Midnight plodded forward until she stood in front of the old tabby tom. Unconvinced, Purdy crouched down with his neck fur bristling and his lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal snaggly teeth. Stormfur felt a twinge of admiration for his courage, even though the badger could have flattened him with one swat of her powerful front paws.

“Here is not fight,” Midnight assured him. “Friend of my friends is my friend also. Much of you they have told me.”

Purdy’s ears twitched. “Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you,” he muttered. “But I suppose you must be all right if they say so.” Backing away, he turned to Brambleclaw. “Why are we hangin’ around here?” he demanded. “There are Upwalkers and dogs all over the place. Say good-bye and let’s be on our way.”

“Hang on!” Squirrelpaw protested loudly to Brambleclaw.

“You said we could hunt.”

“We can,” he mewed.

He paused to taste the air; Stormfur did the same, and was relieved to find that although he could distinguish several different dog scents, they were all stale. He guessed that Purdy was using the danger of dogs as an excuse to get away from Midnight.

“Okay,” Brambleclaw went on, “let’s split up and hunt quickly. We’ll meet in that place where we camped last time.

Tawnypelt, do you want to go straight there?”

The ShadowClan warrior’s eyes flashed as she replied, “No, I can hunt as well as any of you.”

Before any of the cats could respond, Midnight padded up to her and gave her a gentle nudge. “Foolish warrior,” she rumbled. “Rest while able. Show me camping place. I will stay while sun is high, go home in dark.”

Tawnypelt shrugged. “Okay, Midnight.” She headed farther into the woods, following the stream to the hollow where the cats had rested on the outward journey.

The air was cooler in the dappled shade of the trees.

Stormfur began to relax, feeling safer here than on the open moorland, though the chattering stream, too shallow for fish, was no substitute for the river he loved. A pang of loss stabbed through him at the thought that, even if he saw the river again, it would not be for long; Midnight had told them that the Clans would have to leave the forest as soon as the six cats returned.

A rustle in the undergrowth reminded him of how hungry he was. It would be good to go off for a while and hunt with Feathertail, just as they did at home. But when he swung around to speak to his sister, he saw that Crowpaw was saying something in her ear.

“Do you want to hunt with me?” the apprentice muttered, sounding half grudging, half embarrassed. “We’d do better together.”

“That would be great!” Feathertail’s eyes shone; then she spotted Stormfur, and looked even more embarrassed than the WindClan cat. “Er—why don’t we all hunt together?”

Crowpaw looked away, and Stormfur felt the hairs on his neck begin to prickle. What right did this apprentice have to invite Feathertail to be his hunting partner? “No, I’m fine on my own,” Stormfur retorted, spinning around and plunging into the undergrowth, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the hurt in his sister’s blue eyes.

But once he slipped beneath the lowest branches of the bushes his irritation faded. His ears pricked up and all his senses were alert in the hunt for prey.

Before long he spotted a mouse scrabbling among fallen leaves, and dispatched it with one swift blow. Satisfied, he scraped earth over the little brown body until he was ready to collect it, and looked around for more. Soon he added a squirrel and another mouse to his hoard—which was as much as he could carry—and set off for the meeting place.

On the way he began to wonder how Feathertail was getting along, asking himself if he should have stayed with her after all. He was not one of StarClan’s chosen cats; he had come on this mission especially to look after his sister. He had been wrong to abandon her in this strange place, just because Crowpaw had annoyed him. What would he do if something happened to her?

When he reached the camping place he saw Tawnypelt stretched out in the shade of a hawthorn bush, her tortoiseshell fur hardly visible in the dappled sunlight. Midnight was beside her, dozing, and there was more chewed-up burdock root laid on Tawnypelt’s injured shoulder. The badger must have found some growing by the stream. Brambleclaw was perched above Tawnypelt on a steeply arching tree root, obviously keeping watch, while Feathertail and Crowpaw shared a squirrel just below. As Stormfur dropped his catch on the small pile of fresh-kill in the center of the hollow, Squirrelpaw appeared at the top of the slope, dragging a rabbit, and Purdy followed with a couple of mice in his jaws.

“Good, we’re all here,” meowed Brambleclaw. “Let’s eat and then get moving.”

He leaped down into the hollow and chose a starling from the pile. Stormfur took one of his mice over to Feathertail, settling down next to her on the opposite side from Crowpaw.

“Good hunting?” he asked.

Feathertail blinked at him. “Brilliant, thanks. There’s so much prey here! It’s a pity we can’t stay longer.”

Stormfur was tempted to agree, but he knew that the danger to their home was too desperate for them to delay. He began to devour his mouse in famished gulps, his paws already itching for the next stage of their journey.

He had swallowed the last of the fresh-kill and was beginning to groom his thick gray pelt when he heard a low snarling behind him. He saw Brambleclaw raise his head, alarm flaring in his yellow eyes.

Stormfur whipped around to see what had spooked the ThunderClan warrior. A familiar smell hit his scent glands a heartbeat before two slender, tawny shapes emerged from the bracken beside the stream.

Foxes!