Starlight

Chapter 15

The sun had gone down but the horizon still blazed with scarlet when the ThunderClan cats set out. While he was waiting for Brackenfur to go through the tunnel in the barrier of thorns, Brambleclaw realized that Squirrelflight had slipped up to his side.

“Hi, there,” she meowed. She sounded friendly but uncertain, as if she weren’t sure what his reaction would be. “Are you okay? You’ve been in a dream all day.”

Brambleclaw winced; the memory of his meeting with Tigerstar and Hawkfrost filled his mind so strongly that when he shut his eyes, he could almost feel the brush of his half brother’s fur against his flank. He longed to respond to the affection in Squirrelflight’s green gaze, but she was the last cat he could tell about his dream, given her feelings about the RiverClan warrior.

He scuffed his paws on the earth. “I didn’t sleep well last night; that’s all.”

Squirrelflight narrowed her eyes, clearly guessing there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Keep secrets if you want.” She sighed. “See if I care.”

Whisking around, she pushed through the tunnel behind Brackenfur.

“Squirrelflight, wait!” Brambleclaw raced after her, furious with himself for seeming to reject her attempt to be friends again. When he burst out at the other end of the tunnel she was padding away with Leafpaw, their heads bent close together. Though he called her name again she didn’t turn to look at him.

Sorreltail was the last of the warriors to emerge from the tunnel. Brackenfur had been waiting to check that they had all the cats who were meant to be coming to the Gathering.

As she went past, Brackenfur stretched out his muzzle to touch her ear-tip. “Hey, Sorreltail,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

The young tortoiseshell warrior blinked at him and let out a purr.

Firestar led his Clan uphill to the place where they could cross the stream by the stepping-stones, then followed the stream down to the lakeshore. “If we go on Gathering near the horseplace,” he meowed, “we must make sure WindClan understands we’ll have to cross their territory every full moon.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Cloudtail muttered to Dustpelt.

The brown tabby warrior grunted. “True. We could probably charge straight through the WindClan camp without any of the warriors lifting a paw.”

“That’s not fair!” Sorreltail protested. “Onewhisker would defend his camp as fiercely as any warrior.”

Dustpelt and Cloudtail exchanged a glance; Brambleclaw could tell they weren’t convinced.

The cats padded along the edge of the lake; the water grew darker as the scarlet faded from the horizon and the first stars appeared. Brambleclaw found his gaze dragged back more than once to where Squirrelflight and Leafpaw walked side by side at the back of the group. He was comforted by the fact that at least she wasn’t with Ashfur, who was talking to Rainwhisker and Cinderpelt. Brambleclaw thought that the young gray warrior paid far too much attention to Squirrelflight.

By the time they were nearing the Twoleg horseplace, the full moon had floated away from the trailing wisps of cloud and was flooding the lake and its shore with pale silver light.

Just before they reached the fence, Onewhisker appeared on the brow of the hill above them, flanked by several of his Clanmates. Brambleclaw was surprised to see that Mudclaw was with him, but there was no sign of the new deputy, Ashfoot.

Firestar stopped and waited for the WindClan cats to catch up, greeting Onewhisker with a friendly purr. Although the two leaders walked on side by side, the warriors behind them stayed with their own Clanmates. Brambleclaw spotted Crowfeather and waved his tail to catch his attention, but instead of padding over to greet him, Crowfeather just acknowledged him with a brief nod.

Suddenly Firestar raised his tail for them to halt.

Brambleclaw padded quietly forward to find out what was going on. He paused to taste the air and his neck fur began to rise when he made out the scent of strange cats.

“More kittypets?” he muttered to Crowfeather.

The WindClan warrior bristled, his ears pricked.

Brambleclaw followed his gaze and spotted a tiny movement in the grass on the other side of the Twoleg fence. A moment later two cats emerged. The first was a muscular gray-and-white tom; he glared at them through the fence with his lips drawn back in a snarl.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded.

Mudclaw and Cloudtail both sprang forward, ready for battle, but Firestar waved them back with his tail. “We’re not looking for trouble,” he meowed. “We have come to live near here.”

“There are so many of you!” the second cat, a queen with long, creamy fur, exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. Her heavy round belly showed that she was expecting kits.

“Actually, there are more than this,” Onewhisker told her.

“But Firestar’s right: we won’t bother you.”

“Provided you don’t bother us,” Mudclaw snarled.

The strange tom fluffed up his neck fur. “Set one paw inside this fence…”

“Why would we do that?” Squirrelflight asked, pushing forward with a gleam of curiosity in her green eyes. “We don’t live with Twolegs.”

“Twolegs?” The long-furred queen looked bewildered.

“The pink creatures who walk on their hindlegs,” Brambleclaw explained. On their journey to meet Midnight they had discovered that not all cats used the same words.

“They live in red stone nests like the one over there,” he added, gesturing with his tail to the Twoleg nest on the other side of the horseplace.

“Oh, you mean Nofurs,” mewed the queen. “We don’t live with them either. We live in the stable with the horses.”

Brambleclaw tipped his head to one side, puzzled. It sounded as if these two cats were loners, like Barley and Ravenpaw, who lived in a barn near the old territory. But he couldn’t imagine any cats wanting to live this close to a Twoleg nest unless they were kittypets, let alone make their home where they could be crushed under the horses’ huge feet.

The gray-and-white tom twitched the tip of his tail.

“Move on,” he ordered. “We don’t want you here.”

“There’s no need to be unfriendly,” Squirrelflight protested, while Mudclaw unsheathed his claws and sank them into the grass. Brambleclaw flexed his shoulders and sank his weight onto his haunches. If the strange tom insisted on being this aggressive, there would be a fight.

A small white WindClan queen flicked out her tail to bar Mudclaw’s way. “Calm down,” she mewed. “Can’t you scent the kits? He’s only defending his nursery.”

Brambleclaw drew a long breath over his scent glands.

Whitetail was right; there were more cats here than the two they could see, including kits.

The creamy brown she-cat looked impressed. “There is another cat living here,” she meowed. “Floss had her kits yesterday. These cats are okay,” she added, butting her companion in the shoulder. “I don’t think we need to worry about them.”

“None of us would hurt kits,” Firestar promised.

The tomcat took a step back, his neck fur beginning to lie flat. “Make sure you don’t,” he rasped. He half turned away, then glanced back. “I’m Smoky, and this is Daisy. And you might want to know that there’s a dog in the nest with the Nofurs. Small, black-and-white, very yappy. They usually keep it inside, but sometimes it gets loose.”

“Thanks,” Firestar replied. “We’ll keep a lookout.”

Smoky nodded curtly and padded off, jerking his head for Daisy to follow him. She hesitated a moment longer before going after him. Her pale fur faded quickly into the darkness.

“Good-bye!” Squirrelflight called. “See you again sometime!”

The Clan cats set off again, skirting the fence and following the line of the shore until they reached the clump of trees where they had made their temporary camp. ShadowClan and RiverClan were already there, and almost the first cat Brambleclaw spotted was his sister, Tawnypelt. As he headed over to see her, Rainwhisker bounded past him to greet a young warrior from RiverClan.

“Hi, Swallowtail! How’s the prey running?”

The dark tabby she-cat flicked an awkward glance toward her Clan leader, Leopardstar, who was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away. “Fine,” she murmured.

Rainwhisker bent down to lick her ears in greeting, then jerked his head back. Embarrassed, he licked his own paw instead and swiped it over his face. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I keep forgetting things are different now.”

Tawnypelt came up, but after that abrupt reminder of Clan differences Brambleclaw stayed a tail-length away from her and formally dipped his head. “It’s good to see you,” he meowed.

“And you, mousebrain.” Tawnypelt stepped forward to press her muzzle against Brambleclaw’s. “This is ridiculous!

We’ve been through far too much together to forget about the past. Sharing memories, and liking each other because of it, doesn’t make us traitors to our Clans!”

Brambleclaw blinked. She was right, but he knew that other cats didn’t feel the same. A little way off, a group of ShadowClan cats was glaring at them, including Rowanclaw, the one who had attacked him when he accidentally crossed the other Clan’s scent markings. As Brambleclaw met his furious gaze, Rowanclaw turned to make a sneering remark to one of his Clanmates. Brambleclaw was too far away to hear, but he could guess it was a long way from being compli-mentary.

He headed for the tree stump, wanting to find a good place to listen to the leaders. He had gone only a few pawsteps when Hawkfrost appeared. The broad-shouldered tabby warrior looked expectantly at Brambleclaw as if he were waiting for him to speak first.

“Er, hi,” Brambleclaw meowed. Moonlight dappled Hawkfrost’s pelt, reminding Brambleclaw sharply of his dream. “How are you settling in?”

Hawkfrost dipped his head. “Fine, thank you.” His voice was cool, and Brambleclaw backed away, feeling his pelt prickle. Did Hawkfrost think he was being disloyal to ThunderClan by talking to him?

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just thought—”

Hawkfrost tilted his head with a knowing look in his ice-blue eyes. “Don’t worry; I’m not one of the cats who thinks cats from different Clans shouldn’t have anything to do with one another. I saw what happened with Tawnypelt,” he meowed sympathetically. “It’s tough to have loyalties divided.

We all have friends in other Clans now, and yet we have to act as if being rivals is the only thing that matters.”

Part of Brambleclaw wanted to yowl, Yes! That’s just how I feel.

But he could sense curious gazes burning into him from all sides, so he just mewed quietly, “It’s hard to forget what we’ve been through.”

Hawkfrost twitched his tail. “I was just saying the same thing to Mudclaw, actually. He’s been telling me about the problems in WindClan.”

Brambleclaw stiffened. “What problems?”

“Don’t you know?” Hawkfrost’s eyes glinted with surprise.

“The way Onewhisker won’t establish firm boundaries, for starters. According to Mudclaw, he gave a whole slice of territory to ThunderClan in return for some healing herbs.”

Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. It looked like Mudclaw was using anything he could to suggest that Onewhisker wasn’t fit to be Clan leader.

“Perhaps Tallstar made a mistake when he chose Onewhisker to follow him,” Hawkfrost went on. “It would be a pity for WindClan if their leader wasn’t strong enough. Not the best start for their new life.”

“I’m sure Onewhisker can be a great leader,” Brambleclaw argued, pushing away the memory of Tallstar faltering over the ceremony with his last breath. “There’s no reason why WindClan can’t be as strong as any Clan in their new home.”

“It takes a strong leader to make a strong Clan,” meowed Hawkfrost. “Onewhisker hasn’t received his name or his nine lives yet. Could that be a sign that he doesn’t have StarClan’s approval?”

His voice was level, mildly curious rather than hostile, and it was impossible for Brambleclaw to disagree. What if StarClan refused to recognize Onewhisker as WindClan’s leader? It was certainly true that they hadn’t sent any signs to tell him how to receive his nine lives.

“Mudclaw feels the same,” Hawkfrost went on. “He knows his Clanmates need strong leadership now more than any other time. Every cat knows it’s hard to fix new boundaries when we’ve all been living so close together, but if we don’t, how will the Clans support themselves? What we decide now will affect every cat for many seasons to come. WindClan could end up starving if Onewhisker doesn’t claim enough territory.”

This new view of Mudclaw burst on Brambleclaw like a ray of sunlight penetrating the forest canopy. He had started to think that the former deputy cared only about his own ambitions. But Mudclaw had shown as much courage and determination as any cat on the journey. Would he really make a more effective leader than Onewhisker?

“Mudclaw was a very good deputy,” Brambleclaw began thoughtfully.

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes. “Speaking of deputies, when’s Firestar going to make you his?”

Brambleclaw scuffed his forepaws among the dead leaves.

“There are more experienced warriors—”

Hawkfrost flicked his tail dismissively. “Older warriors,” he corrected, “but more experienced? I think not. How many of them could have made your journey to the sun-drown-place, and then led us here? You’re strong and skillful and you uphold the warrior code. Why shouldn’t you be deputy?”

“Firestar has good reasons for not appointing a new deputy,” Brambleclaw dodged.

“Are you talking about Graystripe?” Hawkfrost blinked.

“Every cat knows Graystripe is dead. He’d go down fighting rather than let Twolegs turn him into a kittypet. There’s only one reason Firestar won’t appoint you deputy, and you know it as well as I do. It’s because of who your father was. Because of who our father was.”

Brambleclaw stared at Hawkfrost, and the sense that he was looking at his reflection swept over him once more: they had the same dark tabby pelt, the same powerful shoulders, the same intensity in their eyes, which differed only in color—ice blue and amber.

“Do you have the same problem in RiverClan?” he whispered.

Hawkfrost shook his head. “No. Tigerstar was never such an enemy to RiverClan. Any trouble I have comes from not being Clanborn. It used to bother me, but now I just look at Firestar. If a kittypet can become Clan leader, so can I.”

As he spoke, the flicker of a ginger pelt caught Brambleclaw’s eye as Squirrelflight hurtled around the stump. Not looking where she was going, she nearly crashed into him and Hawkfrost, skidding to a halt just in time.

“Sorry, I was looking for—” She broke off as her green gaze took in the cats in front of her. “Oh, it’s you,” she mewed ungraciously to Hawkfrost.

“Greetings, Squirrelflight.” The RiverClan warrior dipped his head politely. “Brambleclaw and I were just discussing WindClan. We’re afraid there’ll be trouble if Onewhisker doesn’t receive his nine lives soon.”

Brambleclaw was relieved that Hawkfrost hadn’t mentioned his speculations about a new deputy for ThunderClan, but his relief didn’t last long. Squirrelflight was gazing at his half brother with undisguised hostility, her neck fur beginning to bristle.

“What’s that got to do with RiverClan?” she demanded.

Hawkfrost’s ice-blue eyes widened, but he said nothing.

“Of course it matters to RiverClan,” Brambleclaw meowed to his Clanmate. “Strong leadership is important to every Clan in the forest.”

Squirrelflight’s only reply was a snort of disgust. Anything more she might have said was interrupted by Mistyfoot, bounding up to join her Clanmate. “Leopardstar wants you, Hawkfrost,” she meowed. “We have to discuss what we’re going to report at the Gathering.”

“Our final decisions about the boundaries,” Hawkfrost explained to Brambleclaw.

“Not just that,” mewed Mistyfoot. “Leopardstar wants to tell the other Clans how you and Blackclaw drove off that badger.”

Hawkfrost shrugged. “Any cat would have done the same,” he meowed, but there was an edge of pride in his voice.

The two cats padded away, leaving Brambleclaw staring after them in shock. Hawkfrost had mentioned the badger in his dream! There was no other way he could have known about it before now. That meant his dream was true, and on some mysterious level, all three of them had met together. A shiver ran through him from ears to tail-tip.

He wanted to call Hawkfrost back, but a touch on his shoulder distracted him. Squirrelflight was still standing beside him, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and dismay.

“Are you just trying to cause trouble?” the ginger she-cat hissed. “You took the side of that… that mangy furball instead of mine!”

“It’s not about taking sides,” Brambleclaw meowed crossly.

“Hawkfrost seems like a good warrior to me. You’re the one who started to cause trouble.”

“Only because every time I turn round I find you talking to him,” Squirrelflight snapped.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Brambleclaw felt his neck fur begin to rise. “Hawkfrost’s my brother. Can’t you see that makes me want to get to know him better? And we’re here at a Gathering, in case you hadn’t noticed. We’re supposed to discuss things with cats from other Clans. I can’t believe you were so rude to Hawkfrost.”

“And I can’t believe you would criticize Onewhisker’s leadership with him,” Squirrelflight retorted. “Onewhisker has always been ThunderClan’s friend.”

“Are you saying Hawkfrost is our enemy?”

For a few heartbeats Squirrelflight did not reply. The anger in her eyes faded, to be replaced by a look of deep sadness. “All right, I give up,” she mewed. “It’s not going to work, is it? You and me?”

“What do you mean?” Brambleclaw stared at her in dismay. “Why not?”

“Because I can see exactly where I stand in your life. I’m not as important to you as other cats are—as Hawkfrost is.”

Brambleclaw opened his jaws to argue, but another voice interrupted him.

“Hey, Squirrelflight! I’ve saved you a place over here.” It was Ashfur, signaling from a few fox-lengths away.

Squirrelflight gave Brambleclaw a last, long look, anger and sadness battling in her gaze, then stalked away to join the gray tom.

Brambleclaw leaped after her. “Squirrelflight, wait! I’d never choose another cat over you.”

But she didn’t look back, and there was no way Brambleclaw was going to chase her all the way over to Ashfur. He wasn’t about to give the young warrior the satisfaction of watching them fight.

Behind him, Blackstar jumped onto the tree stump and called for attention. As the cats gathered around, Brambleclaw saw Hawkfrost gazing curiously at him. He didn’t want to talk about the dream now. Whatever Squirrelflight said, no cat was more important than her, and he couldn’t think about anything except the way she was sitting next to Ashfur, the gray warrior bending down to murmur something in her ear.

Brambleclaw stared past Hawkfrost into the shadows at the edge of the clearing, waves of loss and disbelief surging around him like the churning, choking water of sun-drown-place.