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safe. I can’t believe it.”
Squirrelpaw’s heart tightened.
“Where’s Feathertail?” Greystripe’s gaze flicked past Stormfur as if he expected to see the pale-grey she-cat waiting at the foot of the rocks.
Squirrelpaw stared at her paws. Poor, poor Stormfur. He brought the worst news of all, to RiverClan as well as ThunderClan.
“Where is she?” Greystripe asked, sounding puzzled.
“She’s not with us,” Stormfur replied. He looked directly into his father’s eyes. “She died on the journey.”
Greystripe stared at him in disbelief.
Firestar lifted his chin. “Greystripe and Stormfur should be left to grieve in peace,” he called to the Clan.
Squirrelpaw felt a ripple of gratitude toward her father. At least they could explain everything to Greystripe away from the scrutiny of the others. As Firestar guided their Clanmates away up the slope, she pressed closer to Brambleclaw.
Greystripe was gazing at the rock beneath his paws as though he held an adder there and dared not release it in case it bit him.
“We couldn’t have saved her,” Stormfur told him. He gently nudged his father’s shoulder with his nose.
Greystripe swung his head towards Brambleclaw. “You should never have taken her away!” His eyes gleamed with anger.
Squirrelpaw flicked her tail. “It’s not his fault! It was StarClan who chose Feathertail to go on the journey, not Brambleclaw!”
Greystripe closed his eyes. His shoulders sagged until he looked half his usual size. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s just so unfair. She was so much like Silverstream . . .”
As his voice trailed away, Stormfur laid his muzzle against Greystripe’s flank. “Feathertail died a brave and noble death, worthy of the greatest warrior,” he told him. “StarClan chose her to go on the journey, and then the Tribe of Endless Hunting chose her to fulfil a prophecy of their own. You would have been proud of her. She saved us all, not just the Tribe.”
“The Tribe?” Greystripe echoed.
Squirrelpaw could hear the other cats milling about further up the slope. Their murmuring grew louder and more impatient until Firestar silenced them, his voice ringing across the rock. “I know you all want to hear where Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw have been,” he meowed. “Let them tell me first; then I promise I will share everything with you.”
“I want to hear why my apprentice left,” Dustpelt growled.
“And what about the prophecy they mentioned?” Mousefur demanded. “We have to know what it is!”
Brambleclaw put his muzzle against Squirrelpaw’s ear. “It sounds like we’d better join them.” He looked at Stormfur. “Are you coming?”
“Thank you, Brambleclaw,” Stormfur answered, “but I’d like to go home.” He gazed at Greystripe. “They will tell you the whole story, but I wanted you to know you would have been very proud of Feathertail,” he said. “She died to save us.”
Greystripe blinked and did not reply.
Stormfur turned to Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “I know it’s going to be difficult,” he murmured, “but we have to keep going with what we know to be right. Remember what Midnight told us. We’re doing this for all our Clans.”
Brambleclaw solemnly dipped his head. Squirrelpaw leaned forwards to press her muzzle against Stormfur’s cheek. “See you tomorrow at Fourtrees,” she whispered. Her paws trembled with the pain of saying goodbye to one of her closest friends. For more than a moon she hadn’t thought of him as RiverClan and herself as ThunderClan—they were merely Clan together, struggling to finish their journey and save all the cats in the forest.
As Stormfur padded down the slope, Squirrelpaw saw Mousefur and Thornclaw staring reproachfully at her from up on the slope. She knew how disloyal her affection for the RiverClan warrior must appear, but she was too sad and too tired to bother explaining what their journey meant for the six cats who had travelled to the sun-drown-place—and the five who had made it home.
“All right,” Firestar meowed. “The senior warriors will join us to hear what Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw have to say. And you, Cinderpelt.” He gestured with his nose to the overhang where Squirrelpaw had seen Dustpelt and Mousefur sheltering. “We’ll meet up there.”
Snorting, Mousefur turned and began to climb the slope towards the overhang. Greystripe and Dustpelt followed her. As Firestar, Cinderpelt, and Sandstorm padded after them, Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, letting the breeze ripple her fur. She didn’t care how cold she got—in a way, the colder she was, the closer she came to sharing her Clanmates’ suffering. There wouldn’t need to be any strength in the wind for it to slice through their unkempt fur.
Suddenly she heard Thornclaw let out a low growl. She turned, alarmed, and saw Stormfur standing at the foot of the rocky slope with a plump fish in his mouth.
“What’s the matter?” snarled Thornclaw. “Don’t your own Clan want you back?”
The RiverClan warrior dropped the fish by his forepaws. “I have brought a gift from RiverClan.”
“We don’t need your gifts!” Frostfur spat.
There was a quiet padding of paws behind Squirrelpaw, and Firestar spoke. “It was kindly meant, Frostfur.” There was a note of warning in his voice. “Thank you, Stormfur.”
Stormfur didn’t reply; he just looked up at the ThunderClan leader with his eyes full of sadness. His gaze rested briefly on Squirrelpaw; then he dipped his head and disappeared into the reeds that led down to the water, leaving the fish behind.
Squirrelpaw’s belly growled with hunger. She had not eaten since they left the Twoleg territory on the far side of the moorland.
“You’ll have to wait till later and see if you can track down a mouse or two,” Firestar meowed, hearing her belly complain. “We must feed Ferncloud and the elders first. You’re going to have to get used to hunger now that you are back with the Clan.”
Squirrelpaw nodded, trying to readjust. She had grown used to hunting when she felt hungry, sharing only with her friends.
Firestar called down to Thornclaw, “Divide the fish between Ferncloud and the elders,” before turning back towards the overhang.
As Squirrelpaw slipped beneath the jutting rock, she saw that it reached back further than she had expected. Smooth rock shielded the sides of the cave, but a chill wind swirled through the opening, stirring the jumbled scents of many cats. Her heart ached for the order and comfort of the old camp, and she closed her eyes, wishing that when she opened them again, she would see the thickly laced branches of the apprentices’ den around her instead of cold, hard stone.
“All the warriors share this den,” Dustpelt murmured in her ear, as if he had guessed what she was thinking. “There are not as many suitable sleeping places here.”
Squirrelpaw opened her eyes and looked around the hollow with rage pulsing through her paws. Twolegs had driven her Clan to this! The least she could do was lead them to a place of safety, where there would be proper sleeping places and enough fresh-kill for all the cats.
“At least there’s a little shelter,” muttered Sandstorm, although her fluffed-up fur suggested she was chilled to the bone.
Firestar sat near the back of the hollow. Sandstorm and Greystripe settled on either side of him. The ThunderClan deputy was hunched over in his private misery; Cinderpelt sat beside him, concern clouding her eyes.
“Now,” Firestar began, curling his tail over his paws. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Squirrelpaw felt the questioning eyes of her Clanmates burn into her pelt. Brambleclaw swept his tail