Her warm breath grazed Squirrelpaw’s muzzle. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”
Squirrelpaw heard a soft purr trembling in her mother’s throat. It reminded her of when she was a kit, curled in the nursery, her sister at her side. Oh, Leafpaw! Where are you?
A deep meow interrupted them. “It seems that I have my apprentice back,” Dustpelt commented. He was as gaunt and hunted-looking as the other warriors, but his eyes were filled with warmth as he came over to greet her.
“Wherever you have been, you ate well,” he remarked, his eyes widening as he looked at Squirrelpaw’s sturdy muscles and glossy coat.
The tip of Brambleclaw’s tail twitched. “We were lucky. There was plenty of fresh-kill where we travelled.”
“Fresh-kill is what we need more than anything,” mewed Dustpelt. “If you have found good hunting, the Clan should know where.”
“It’s a long way away,” Brambleclaw warned.
Dustpelt flicked his ears. “Then it is not for us,” he meowed. “We have made our home here. We will not let the Twolegs and their monsters drive us out again.” A faint, defiant ripple of agreement sounded from the other cats.
Squirrelpaw stared at them in horror. But they had to leave! Midnight had told them that the Clans would have to find a new home—the dying warrior was going to show them the way—and Squirrelpaw had assumed that the fact that ThunderClan had been driven out of their camp would make the task of persuading them to leave a little easier.
Then she saw a figure on top of the rock, silhouetted against the rosy evening sky. Even though the shadows made it impossible to tell what colour the cat’s pelt was, there was no mistaking the powerful shoulders and the long tail held aloft in greeting.
“Firestar!” Squirrelpaw called.
“Squirrelpaw!” Firestar bounded down the rock, then halted. His whiskers twitched for a heartbeat before he thrust his head forwards and licked Squirrelpaw’s ear. She closed her eyes and purred, briefly forgetting the horror that was engulfing the forest. She was home, and that was all that mattered.
Firestar stepped back. “Where have you been?” he demanded.
“We’ve got so much to tell you,” she answered quickly.
“We?” Firestar echoed. “Is Brambleclaw with you?”
“Yes, I’m here.” Brambleclaw pushed his way through the cats and stood beside Squirrelpaw, dipping his head in respect. The rest of the Clan waited, their eyes glinting in the half-light, and even the wind dropped, as if the forest were holding its breath.
“Welcome home, Brambleclaw.” Squirrelpaw thought she saw a guarded look in her father’s eyes, and she felt a chill run through her.
A flurry of grey fur caught her eye, no more than a shadow flitting down the darkening slope. It was Greystripe. He skidded to a halt beside Firestar. “So, fire and tiger have returned!” he purred.
“Fire and tiger?” Squirrelpaw echoed. What did Greystripe mean?
“There’s time to tell them about that later,” Firestar murmured, his gaze flicking around the watching Clan.
“Oh, of course,” Greystripe meowed, dipping his head. Then his eyes brightened once more. “Have you seen my two kits?” He glanced hopefully from Squirrelpaw to Brambleclaw.
Squirrelpaw nodded. “They went with us,” she explained. “Stormfur—”
“I’m here.” Stormfur pushed his way through the cats.
Greystripe’s ears twitched in surprise and pleasure. “Stormfur!” He hurried forwards and greeted his son with delighted purrs. “You’re safe!” He glanced back at Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw. “You’re all 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