Sunset

Chapter 15

On the day after Daisy’s return, Brambleclaw emerged from the warriors’ den to see Berrykit wrestling with his brother and sister outside the nursery. He padded across to watch; Berrykit cuffed Mousekit over the head and sent the smaller kit sprawling in the dust.

“Well-done,” Brambleclaw mewed approvingly. “But if Mousekit were your enemy, would you stand there staring at him? Mousekit, what are you going to do?”

“Attack him!” Mousekit sprang up, shook rumpled fur, and lunged at his brother.

“Dodge!” Brambleclaw directed Berrykit. “Trip him as you go by.”

Berrykit flashed out a paw, but Mousekit sidestepped and landed a blow on his ear. Berrykit crouched, snarling, and pounced on Mousekit’s tail.

“Well-done, both of you,” Brambleclaw meowed. “You’ll both make good fighters one day.”

Leaving the kits to scuffle, Brambleclaw turned away and saw Firestar in the center of the clearing, listening to a report from the dawn patrol. A moment later the patrol separated in search of rest and fresh-kill, and Firestar beckoned with his tail for Brambleclaw to join him.

“Dustpelt reports Twolegs on our border,” he began.

Brambleclaw felt his neck fur begin to rise. “They’re not building another Thunderpath, are they?”

“No, nothing like that,” Firestar replied. “Dustpelt says there are some green pelt-things propped up on sticks, like little dens, in the clearing between us and ShadowClan.

Twolegs have been sleeping in them.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened. “That’s mousebrained! Why would Twolegs come and sleep here when they have perfectly good nests of their own?”

Firestar shrugged. “Why do Twolegs do anything? I’m not too worried about the green pelt-things,” he went on. “They don’t sound permanent. What bothers me is how ShadowClan are going to react. We all know they’re looking for an excuse to take some of our territory.”

Brambleclaw flexed his claws. “I’d like to see them try.”

“I’d rather settle this peacefully if we can,” Firestar told him. “Listen, I want you to see exactly what’s happening in the clearing, then go around the lake and find out what the Twolegs are up to on the border between RiverClan and ShadowClan. I want to know how serious the disturbance is, and how likely it is that Blackstar and Leopardstar will demand more territory at the next Gathering.”

Brambleclaw knew that made sense. As the weather grew warmer, more and more Twolegs had appeared, roaring across the lake in their water-monsters or bobbing around in the boats with white pelts. The air was filled with buzzing, and when the wind was in the right direction the cats could hear the yelps and yowls of Twolegs even in the stone hollow.

“Do you think the Twolegs will come here next?” he asked Firestar.

“They might,” Firestar replied seriously. “But I think the forest comes too close to the water’s edge in our territory for them to land their water-monsters. That might keep them away—but that’s part of what I want you to find out. Have a good sniff around, and don’t get caught. I don’t want ShadowClan or RiverClan to know you’ve set paw on their territory.”

“They won’t,” Brambleclaw promised, and set off with a wave of his tail. He felt his head swim with pride as he brushed through the thorn tunnel. Firestar must trust him a lot to have chosen him for such an important mission!

Tigerstar was right: he could achieve great things by following the warrior code and being loyal to his Clan.

He cut through ThunderClan territory until he came to the clearing. The stream bordered it on one side, then veered away into ShadowClan territory. The tabby tom crouched at the water’s edge, screened by a clump of bluebells, and peered across.

The green pelts Firestar had mentioned were dotted all across the clearing. Since at this point the stream marked the border, they were actually in ShadowClan territory.

“ShadowClan is welcome to them,” he muttered. But he wasn’t so sure; Blackstar might see the Twoleg invasion as another reason to extend his territory.

Dustpelt seemed to be right that the Twolegs were sleeping under the pelts. At least, as Brambleclaw watched, several Twolegs crawled in and out, and Twoleg kits were playing between the little dens, tossing something brightly colored from one to another, and yowling in delight when they caught it.

A shiver went through Brambleclaw when he spotted flame spurting up from the opposite side of the clearing.

Were the Twolegs really mousebrained enough to light a fire among the trees? Then he noticed that the fire was encased in some shiny Twoleg thing that seemed to stop it from spreading. He could smell the strange, acrid scent of Twoleg food drifting across, mixed with the tang of charred wood.

Brambleclaw watched the scene for a while longer, but nothing else seemed to be happening. At last he eased back from the water’s edge, being careful to tread silently and stay out of sight until he was well away from the clearing. He had learned all he could from these Twolegs; now it was time for the more dangerous part of his mission.

A mouse scuttled across open ground just in front of him; Brambleclaw flashed out a paw and pinned it down, killing it and devouring it quickly. He was about to leave his own territory, and he wouldn’t risk stealing prey from a rival Clan.

He followed the stream down toward the lake, tasting the air for the scent of ShadowClan patrols. The border markers were strong and fresh here, but the scent of cats was fading; he guessed that a patrol had been that way at dawn.

When he reached the edge of the trees, there were no ShadowClan cats visible along the lakeshore. Brambleclaw waded cautiously across the stream, his pelt prickling.

Blackstar had agreed only grudgingly to allow cats from other Clans to cross his territory; besides, Firestar had ordered Brambleclaw not to let ShadowClan know about this mission.

Though he kept well within two tail-lengths of the water’s edge, he felt as though every one of the dark pine trees con-cealed the piercing gaze of a ShadowClan warrior, waiting to leap out and challenge him. He crept along with his belly fur brushing the pebbles, taking advantage of every rock and hollow to hide and pausing every few paw steps to taste the air.

One Twoleg boat was already out on the lake, floating along quietly with a huge white pelt spread above it.

Brambleclaw could see a couple of Twolegs inside it, leaning over to trail their forepaws in the water. As he drew closer to the border with RiverClan another Twoleg thing—more like a monster than the boat with its pelt—roared away from the half bridge, leaving a scar of bubbling white foam on the surface of the lake. Brambleclaw sprang onto a rock to keep his paws dry as waves slopped up onto the shore.

The reek of Twoleg monsters was stronger here, drowning any scent of cats. Brambleclaw’s gaze flickered uneasily along the line of trees, alert for any movement, but he saw nothing.

Perhaps ShadowClan had withdrawn deeper into the forest to stay clear of the Twolegs. Or perhaps unseen eyes were watching him; he braced himself in case a patrol appeared.

Not far from the border Brambleclaw had to head for the trees to avoid a litter of Twoleg kits who were standing at the water’s edge, yowling and throwing stones into the water.

They’re making enough noise to warn any cat in the territory, he thought. It was clear Blackstar was just using the Twolegs as an excuse. There was plenty of prey, and the Twolegs weren’t posing a serious threat. No cat could imagine that ShadowClan really needed more space to hunt.

Cutting diagonally across the shore, Brambleclaw streaked along close to the ground until he reached the wide area near the half bridge, covered with hard black stuff like the Thunderpath. Twoleg monsters were crouched side by side, almost filling the space. Brambleclaw crept along its edge, his legs beginning to tremble with tension and the effort of staying alert for danger.

Two or three tail-lengths from the Thunderpath that marked the border between ShadowClan and RiverClan, he reached the shelter of a tall Twoleg thing made of shiny stuff like the tendrils of the fox traps, woven into a mesh like a cobweb. It was stuffed full of Twoleg rubbish; Brambleclaw twitched his whiskers at the reek of crow-food, but at least it would disguise his own scent.

Cautiously he looked out from behind the Twoleg thing.

Several monsters loomed in front of him, but they were all silent and he guessed they were asleep. As he watched, another monster appeared, veered off the Thunderpath, and stopped, its roar cutting off abruptly. Two Twolegs and a couple of kits got out of its belly. The kits let out a screech and dashed off to the half bridge, their hind paws pounding on its wooden strips.

Brambleclaw stiffened as a dog leaped out of the monster after them with a flurry of excited yelps. One of the Twolegs grabbed it and fastened a long tendril of some brightly colored stuff to its collar. Brambleclaw guessed the dog had scented him, but couldn’t get at him, because the Twoleg kept tight hold of the tendril.

It’s no better than a kittypet, Brambleclaw sneered. I’d like to see any Twoleg try to put a collar on me.

While he waited to see what the Twolegs would do next, Brambleclaw was distracted by a movement on the opposite side of the Thunderpath, in RiverClan territory. A clump of bracken waved wildly a heartbeat before a squirrel shot out and crossed the Thunderpath. A slender gray-brown cat darted after it; shock thumped into Brambleclaw as he recognized Brook.

At almost the same moment Stormfur emerged from the bracken and stood at the edge of the Thunderpath. “Brook!

No!” he yowled. “Come back!”

Brook was already leaping for the squirrel, hardly a tail-length into ShadowClan territory. She brought it down with two rapid blows from her forepaws and bit down into its neck.

“Come back now!” Stormfur repeated urgently.

Brook spun around, the squirrel dangling from her jaws.

Just as she launched herself back across the Thunderpath, a monster appeared; Brambleclaw dug his claws into the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the young she-cat crushed under its round black paws.

“No!” he heard Stormfur yowl.

Brambleclaw opened his eyes again to see the monster swerve, screeching, and barely miss Brook’s tail as she plunged back into RiverClan territory. Stormfur ran up to her, pressing his muzzle against hers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A new voice spoke, harsh and angry. Brambleclaw looked up to see Hawkfrost shouldering his way through a clump of ferns at the top of the bank above the Thunderpath. His ice-blue eyes blazed with fury. He paced down to confront Stormfur and Brook. “You stole that prey from ShadowClan!” he hissed at the young she-cat.

Brook dropped the squirrel and turned to Stormfur.

“What’s he talking about?”

“She didn’t steal it,” Stormfur started to explain. “It’s a RiverClan squirrel. It ran across the Thunderpath, and Brook just—”

Hawkfrost ignored the gray warrior. “Don’t you know the most basic rules of the warrior code?” he demanded, thrusting his muzzle forward until it was less than a mouse-length from Brook’s. “You don’t steal prey.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Stormfur meowed.

“She didn’t steal it. It’s one of ours.”

Hawkfrost rounded on him, his eyes still sparking with fury. “She shouldn’t have followed it across the border.

Doesn’t she even know not to trespass on another Clan’s territory?”

“I’m sorry,” Brook mewed, still sounding confused. “I barely set paw on the other side—just enough to catch the squirrel.”

Hawkfrost let out a snort of exasperation. “You obviously have no idea how to behave. What if a ShadowClan patrol had spotted you?”

“Well, they didn’t, so…” Stormfur was obviously trying to smooth his Clanmate’s ruffled fur.

“No thanks to her,” Hawkfrost interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Brook repeated. “When I lived with the Tribe, we didn’t have to worry about boundaries. I’ll remember next time.”

“If there is a next time,” Hawkfrost retorted.

“What do you mean?” Brambleclaw saw Stormfur’s neck fur bristle. “Why shouldn’t there be? Brook’s training really hard to be a RiverClan warrior.”

The big tabby tom’s lips drew back in a sneer. “She’ll never be a RiverClan warrior!” he hissed.

Brambleclaw swallowed nervously. His half brother sounded exactly like Tigerstar!

“And who are you to say that?” Stormfur challenged.

“You’re not in charge of us.”

For a heartbeat Brambleclaw thought that Hawkfrost would lash out and rake his claws across Stormfur’s face. “Just wait and see what happens when I report this to Leopardstar,” he growled. He twitched his tail in the direction of the RiverClan camp. “Come on back to camp. Now.”

Stormfur and Brook glanced at each other. Stormfur was obviously wondering whether to obey, when his Clanmate had no right to give him orders. Then he shrugged.

“Come on.” He sighed. “We might as well get this straightened out.”

Hawkfrost stalked off up the bank; Stormfur followed close behind him. Brook picked up her squirrel again and brought up the rear.

Once they had disappeared into the ferns at the top of the bank, Brambleclaw cautiously crossed the Thunderpath and padded after them. He wanted to know what was going to happen to his friends. Keeping well back so none of the RiverClan cats would spot him, he followed their tracks.

Fortunately the breeze was blowing toward him, so they were unlikely to pick up his scent, and he kept his ears pricked and his mouth half-open in case any other warriors from RiverClan were close by.

Hawkfrost led the way directly to the RiverClan camp, and leaped the stream close to a hollowed-out place under the bank where Mothwing was sitting with her apprentice, Willowpaw. As he passed the medicine cat, Hawkfrost jerked his head savagely. “Come on, you’re wanted,” he ordered.

Brambleclaw’s ears twitched in surprise that Hawkfrost would talk like that to his sister. He waited, hidden in a clump of reeds, until Mothwing and the others had gone, and Willowpaw was busy sorting through a pile of herbs. He wasn’t sure what to do. He would certainly be spotted if he tried to follow the others right into the RiverClan camp, but he couldn’t just leave his friends in trouble and go home.

The RiverClan warriors had made their camp on a wedge-shaped patch of ground between two streams. Mothwing’s den was beside the narrower stream, not far from where they joined. Brambleclaw padded along the bank until he passed the thorn barrier that marked the edge of the camp.

Cautiously he tasted the air, but he could make out nothing except for the powerful scent of cats from the camp itself.

A sudden yowl from inside the camp made him decide. He was too worried about what would happen to Stormfur and Brook if he left. Hawkfrost was right about the warrior code not allowing a cat to catch prey in another Clan’s territory, but surely Leopardstar would make allowances for the Tribe cat who was unfamiliar with Clan ways?

Brambleclaw leaped from the bank to a rock in midstream, water bubbling around his paws. A second leap brought him to the far bank, where he clawed up a beech tree whose branches overhung the thorn barrier. By creeping among the rustling leaves, his claws sunk into the bark to hold him steady, Brambleclaw could look down into the camp.

Reeds and bushes grew thickly along the banks of both streams, but there was a clear space in the center of the camp.

Leopardstar, the Clan leader, stood there, with her deputy Mistyfoot beside her and several other cats in a ragged circle around them. They were staring at Stormfur and Brook, who stood close together, shifting their paws uneasily. At first Brambleclaw couldn’t see Mothwing.

Hawkfrost stood in front of his leader. He was in the middle of reporting what had happened. “So this mousebrained excuse for a cat,” he meowed, flicking his tail at Brook, “chased the squirrel across the border into ShadowClan and killed it. And was almost flattened by a monster on the way back. It’s a pity it missed, is all I can say.”

Brambleclaw was too far away to hear Stormfur’s snarl, but he saw the fur on his neck and shoulders begin to bristle.

“There’s no need to say things like that.” Leopardstar’s voice was calm. “Brook, is what Hawkfrost says true?”

Brook dipped her head awkwardly. “Yes, Leopardstar, it’s true. But I didn’t realize that what I did was wrong. It won’t happen again.”

“It shouldn’t have happened even once.” Brambleclaw’s heart sank as he saw Blackclaw thrusting his way to the front of the crowd. He was one of the most aggressive RiverClan warriors. “Even a kit knows that you don’t cross Clan boundaries.”

“Did any ShadowClan cats see this?” Leopardstar asked.

It was Stormfur who replied. “I don’t think so. I didn’t spot any, and you can’t scent anything down there except for Twolegs and their monsters, so they’ll never know we were there.”

Leopardstar nodded, but before she could speak, Hawkfrost broke in. “It doesn’t matter whether ShadowClan saw her or not. It’s still against the warrior code. No cat has a place here if they don’t know that.”

A murmur rose from the listening cats; Brambleclaw sank his claws deeper into the tree branch when he realized most of them sounded as if they agreed with Hawkfrost.

“We should send her back where she came from,” Blackclaw declared.

Stormfur whipped around to face him. “If she goes, I go.”

Blackclaw didn’t reply, just opened his jaws in an insolent yawn. Stormfur unsheathed his claws, only to freeze at a sharp command from Mistyfoot.

“Stormfur, no!” The deputy stepped forward until she stood facing the gray warrior. Her blue eyes were regretful as she continued, “Think carefully, Stormfur. How long do you and Brook plan on staying here, anyway? We are all glad to see you again, but perhaps it’s time you went back to your Tribe.”

“Yes, get rid of her,” some cat meowed from the back of the crowd. “Stormfur can stay if he likes, but what use is she?”

“She can’t even fight,” Blackclaw added. “My apprentice could rip her fur off.”

Stormfur’s eyes gleamed with fury. “Where Brook comes from, the cave-guards fight, and the prey-hunters feed the Tribe. Brook was a prey-hunter. She never had to fight until she came here.”

“I’m doing my best to learn,” Brook added.

“You’re doing fine.” Stormfur touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail. “You’ll fight as well as any cat soon.”

“If she gets the chance,” Blackclaw mewed. “Can’t you see the Clan doesn’t want her here?”

“Yes, what about Mothwing’s dream?” another voice asked. “StarClan told us there are two things that don’t belong in the Clan.”

Brambleclaw’s belly clenched as he remembered the dream Mothwing had described at the Gathering, of two stones in the stream that looked different from all the others, interrupting the smooth flow of the current. The stream had flowed properly again only after the stones had been washed away. Did that really mean Stormfur and Brook had no place in RiverClan?

“Mothwing?” Hawkfrost glanced around. “Mothwing, where are you?”

The golden tabby rose to her paws. She had been sitting at the back of the cats, and her paws dragged as she padded forward to stand beside her brother.

“Have StarClan sent you a clearer sign?” Hawkfrost demanded.

Mothwing hesitated, her head bowed.

“Well, Mothwing?” Leopardstar prompted, her voice edged with impatience.

The medicine cat looked up, meeting her brother’s gaze.

Her voice was steady as she replied, “No. StarClan have told me nothing. I said at the Gathering that we shouldn’t be too quick to assume we know what the dream meant—if it meant anything. Sometimes a dream is just a dream.”

Yowls of protest rose from the Clan. “Have you forgotten what I said to you at the Gathering?” Hawkfrost snarled.

“No, but—” Mothwing began, breaking off as Leopardstar interrupted her.

“Mothwing, you are the medicine cat. You need to tell us what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” Mothwing’s head dropped again.

“The dream seems clear enough to me,” Blackclaw snarled.

“Nothing will be right in RiverClan unless we get rid of these two.”

Murmurs of agreement filled the clearing. Leopardstar glanced at Mistyfoot and said something to her deputy, too quietly for Brambleclaw to hear. Meanwhile Hawkfrost padded across to Stormfur until the two cats stood nose to nose. “You obviously have no respect for the warrior code, either of you,” he rasped. “Go back to the Tribe, where you belong.”

Stormfur let out a yowl of pure fury. Leaping at Hawkfrost, he bowled the huge tabby over and battered at his belly with his powerful hind paws, clawing out tufts of fur. Hawkfrost retaliated by sinking his claws into Stormfur’s shoulders and trying to bite his throat.

“No!” Brook screeched, trying to thrust herself between the two battling warriors. “Stormfur, stop!”

Brambleclaw raked his claws along the branch. Every hair on his pelt was telling him to hurl himself out of the tree and join in the fight on Stormfur’s side, but he had to stay where he was. It would just cause even more trouble, and Firestar would be furious if one of his warriors launched an attack in another Clan’s camp.

Below, Stormfur was holding his own, ignoring Brook’s pleas to stop as he slashed his claws along Hawkfrost’s side.

The tabby warrior flailed under Stormfur’s weight, doing little more than shielding his face with his paws. Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed; surely Hawkfrost could fight better than this?

Their training sessions with Tigerstar had made him stronger and more skillful than any cat in the forest, except perhaps Brambleclaw himself. Now, instead of throwing himself into the fight, he was trying to dodge Stormfur’s attack, and his few blows were feeble and badly aimed.

Brambleclaw knew exactly what he was doing.

Hawkfrost didn’t want to beat Stormfur in a fight; he wanted him gone for good. He must have been turning his Clanmates against the visitors for a long time. At the Gathering he had been the one to insist that Mothwing tell her dream, and he had interpreted it for her. Brook’s mistake with the squirrel had given him the excuse he needed, and now he had provoked Stormfur into attacking him so the others would drive him out.

Part of Brambleclaw admired his half brother’s cunning and the force of his ambition. Tigerstar would be proud of him. But Brambleclaw knew he would never have the courage to make such a blatant bid for power himself. Could this really be part of the warrior code?

“Enough!” Leopardstar snapped. “Mistyfoot, Blackclaw, pull them apart.”

The RiverClan deputy leaped onto Hawkfrost’s shoulders and wrenched his head back. Blackclaw pushed Brook aside and raked his claws across Stormfur’s nose; the gray warrior reared back, losing his grip on Hawkfrost. Both cats scrambled to their paws and stood panting, glaring at each other.

Blood was oozing from Hawkfrost’s belly and his side.

Stormfur had no obvious wounds, except for blood spattering his muzzle from Blackclaw’s blow.

“Stormfur, you attacked your Clanmate!” Leopardstar sounded deeply shocked. “It’s obvious you have forgotten the warrior code, or else it doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.”

Stormfur opened his mouth to speak, but Leopardstar swept on. There was genuine regret in her voice as she meowed, “You will have to leave RiverClan. There is no place for you here. Your path lies with the Tribe now.”

Stormfur and Brook exchanged an appalled glance, and Brambleclaw wondered what was so terrible about having to return to Brook’s mountain home.

For a heartbeat he thought Stormfur would protest. Then the gray warrior lifted his head proudly. “Very well.” His voice was cold. “We’ll go. But it’s RiverClan’s loss, not ours. This isn’t the same Clan I once belonged to.”

He swept his tail around to draw Brook close to him.

Without looking back, the two cats padded out of the clearing and vanished into the undergrowth.

Hawkfrost watched them go, triumph glittering in his ice-blue eyes.

Anxious not to be discovered, Brambleclaw climbed down the tree, crossed the stream again, and slipped into the undergrowth, heading for the lake. The scene he had just witnessed had pushed his mission from Firestar to the back of his mind. All he wanted to do now was speak with Stormfur.

Halfway to the waterside he stopped to taste the air, picking up the mingled scents of Stormfur and Brook, so strong and fresh that he knew they were nearby. Scrambling up a low hill, he spotted them farther down the other side. They were heading for the lake, their heads hanging low and their tails twined together.

Brambleclaw didn’t dare call out to them this close to the RiverClan camp. Alert for any sounds of pursuit, he followed them, flitting from one clump of ferns or hazel bush to the next. He caught up to them on the shore not far from the tree-bridge that led to the Gathering island.

“Stormfur!” he hissed. “Wait!”

Brook jumped, while Stormfur whipped around to face Brambleclaw, his claws unsheathed and his neck fur bristling.

“Brambleclaw!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were that mangy, crow-food-eating—”

He broke off when Brook touched his shoulder with her tail. “Don’t,” she murmured. “That won’t help.”

Stormfur let out a sigh, allowing the fur on his neck and shoulders to lie flat again. “What are you doing in RiverClan territory?” he asked Brambleclaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brambleclaw replied. He retreated farther from the water’s edge, beckoning with his tail for Stormfur and Brook to follow until they reached the shelter of a twisted thornbush where they could talk without being seen. “I saw what happened,” he meowed. “And I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Hawkfrost has been out to cause trouble ever since I came back to RiverClan,” Stormfur snarled. “He’s afraid that if I stayed, Mistyfoot would choose me for deputy once she becomes leader.”

Brambleclaw wasn’t surprised; Hawkfrost had been deputy once before, while Mistyfoot was trapped by Twolegs, but at that time Stormfur had been on the journey to the sun-drown-place. Once he had settled into his Clan again, he would have been a formidable rival.

“Will you go back to the mountains?” he asked.

“That’s not possible right now,” Stormfur replied. He sounded awkward, not meeting Brambleclaw’s eyes.

Brambleclaw didn’t press him. He suspected something was wrong and wanted to know more, but he knew Stormfur wouldn’t tell him until he was ready. “Why don’t you come back to ThunderClan with me?” he suggested. “Firestar will be glad to give you food and shelter for tonight at least.”

Stormfur’s whiskers twitched. “We can’t do that,” he meowed. “It would only cause trouble for you with RiverClan.”

“Firestar doesn’t ask other Clans to approve what he does,” Brambleclaw pointed out. If Stormfur and Brook couldn’t go back to the Tribe, their only other choice might be to become loners, and live outside the protection of any Clan. It was a hard and difficult life, especially for cats who were used to living among others. “Come on,” he urged. “It’s too late to go far before nightfall anyway, especially when you don’t know the territory well.”

Stormfur turned to Brook. “What do you think?”

“You decide,” she murmured, pressing her muzzle into Stormfur’s shoulder. “You know I’ll come with you wherever you go.”

Stormfur closed his eyes for a moment as if he were bracing himself. “All right,” he meowed to Brambleclaw, opening his eyes again. “We’ll go back with you. Come on, Brook.”

Brambleclaw led the way down to the lakeshore and headed back toward ThunderClan territory, taking the route through WindClan this time. As they padded along, heavy-footed with shock and exhaustion, he thought about what he had seen and overheard in the RiverClan camp.

“You know,” he mewed to Stormfur as they were passing the horseplace, “Hawkfrost had a point. You shouldn’t have attacked him.”

“I know, I know.” Stormfur lashed his tail. “But he goaded me into it. He meant for me to attack him, and you know that as well as I do.”

Brambleclaw didn’t know how to respond. In his heart he knew Stormfur was right, but he also knew why Hawkfrost had done it.

Before he could speak, Stormfur halted and faced him.

“Brambleclaw, be careful,” he warned quietly. “The path you walk can only lead to trouble.”

Brambleclaw stared at him, a hot flush of guilt soaking through his pelt. There was no way Stormfur could know about Brambleclaw’s meetings with Hawkfrost in dreams, or their training sessions with Tigerstar. Did he realize Brambleclaw was closer to his half brother than some cats might think?

Stormfur twitched his ears as if he were flicking away a fly.

Without saying anything else he turned away and plodded on around the lake.

Brambleclaw stared after him. He felt bad for his friend and Brook, cruelly driven out of their Clan. Yet he couldn’t believe Hawkfrost was entirely wrong. If this was the best way for him to achieve power, didn’t that make his actions right, in some way at least?