do you think Firestar will say when we tell him about Midnight?” Squirrelpaw wondered out loud.
Brambleclaw’s ears twitched. “Who knows?”
“We’re only the messengers,” meowed Stormfur. “All we can do is tell our Clans what StarClan wanted us to know.”
“Do you think they’ll believe us?” Squirrelpaw asked.
“If Midnight was right, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble convincing them,” Stormfur pointed out grimly.
Squirrelpaw realised that she had thought of nothing except returning home to her Clan. She had pushed from her mind all thoughts of the threat that faced the forest. But her heart twisted with fear at Stormfur’s words, and Midnight’s terrifying warning echoed in her mind: Twolegs build new Thunderpath. Soon they come with monsters. Trees will they uproot, rocks break, the earth itself tear apart. No place left for cats. You stay, monsters tear you too, or you starve with no prey.
Her stomach tightened with dread. What if they were too late? Would there even be a home to return to?
She tried to calm herself by recalling the rest of Midnight’s prophecy: But you will not be without a guide. When return, stand on Great Rock when Silverpelt shines above. A dying warrior the way will show. Squirrelpaw breathed deeply. There was still hope. But they had to get home.
“I smell WindClan warriors!”
Brambleclaw’s yowl jerked Squirrelpaw back to the moorland. “We must catch up with Crowpaw and Tawnypelt!” she gasped. The impulse to face danger side by side with her travelling companions had become so instinctive that she had forgotten Crowpaw was actually WindClan and would not be in any danger from his Clanmates.
She burst out of the heather into a clearing and nearly collided with a scrawny WindClan apprentice. She stopped dead and stared at him in surprise.
The apprentice was a very young tabby, barely old enough to leave the nursery, from the look of him. He was crouching in the center of the clearing with his back arched and his pelt bristling even though he was outnumbered and outsized by Crowpaw and Tawnypelt. He flinched as Squirrelpaw hurtled out of the heather, but bravely stayed where he was.
“I knew I smelled intruders!” he hissed.
Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes. Did a pathetic scrap like this really expect to take on three full-grown cats? Crowpaw and Tawnypelt looked calmly at the WindClan apprentice. “Owlkit!” Crowpaw meowed. “Don’t you recognise me?”
The apprentice tipped his head to one side and opened his mouth to scent the air.
“I’m Crowpaw! What are you doing out here, Owlkit? Shouldn’t you be in the nursery?”
The young apprentice flicked his ears. “I’m Owlpaw now,” he snapped.
“But you can’t be an apprentice!” Crowpaw exclaimed. “You’re not six moons old yet.”
“And you can’t be Crowpaw,” growled the tabby. “Crowpaw ran away.” But he loosened his battle-ready muscles and padded over to the WindClan cat, who stood calmly while the apprentice sniffed his flank.
“You smell strange,” Owlpaw declared.
“We’ve travelled a long way,” explained Crowpaw. “But we’re back now, and I need to speak with Tallstar.”
“Who must speak with Tallstar?” A belligerent meow made Squirrelpaw jump, and she turned to see a WindClan warrior pick his way out from the heather, lifting his paws high to avoid the thorns. Two more warriors followed him. Squirrelpaw stared at them in alarm. They were so thin she could see the ribs beneath their fur. Hadn’t these cats been catching any fresh-kill recently?
“It’s me! Crowpaw!” meowed the WindClan apprentice, the tip of his tail twitching. “Webfoot, don’t you recognise me?”
“Of course I do,” meowed the warrior in a flat tone. He sounded so indifferent that Squirrelpaw felt a jab of pity for her friend. This was no sort of homecoming—and Crowpaw hadn’t even given his Clanmates the bad news yet.
“We thought you were dead,” Webfoot meowed.
“Well, I’m not.” Crowpaw blinked. “Is the Clan OK?”
Webfoot’s eyes narrowed. “What are these cats doing here?” he demanded.
“They travelled with me,” Crowpaw replied. “I can’t explain now, but I will tell Tallstar everything,” he added.
Webfoot seemed uninterested in Crowpaw’s words, and Squirrelpaw felt the scrawny warrior’s gaze rake over her as he hissed, “Get them off our territory! They should not be here!”
Squirrelpaw couldn’t help thinking Webfoot was in no state to drive them out if they refused to go, but Brambleclaw stepped forward and dipped his head to the WindClan warrior. “Of course we’ll leave,” he meowed.
“We have to return to our own Clans anyway,” Squirrelpaw added pointedly. Brambleclaw shot her a warning glance.
“Then hurry up,” snapped Webfoot. He looked at Crowpaw. “Come on,” he growled. “I’ll take you to Tallstar.” He turned and began to head for the far side of the clearing.
Crowpaw twitched his tail. “Surely the camp is that way?” he meowed, signalling toward the other direction.
“We live in the old rabbit warrens now,” Webfoot told him.
Squirrelpaw saw confusion and anxiety flash in Crowpaw’s eyes. “The Clan has moved?”
“For now,” Webfoot answered.
Crowpaw nodded, though his gaze was still filled with questions. “Can I say goodbye to my friends?”
“Friends?” One of the other warriors spoke, a pale brown tom. “Do your loyalties lie with cats from other Clans now?”
“Of course not!” Crowpaw insisted. “But we have travelled together for more than a moon.”
The WindClan warriors glanced uncertainly at each other but said nothing as Crowpaw walked over to Tawnypelt and touched her mottled flank with his nose. He brushed affectionately past Brambleclaw and Stormfur; as he stretched his head to touch his muzzle against hers, Squirrelpaw was surprised by the warmth of his farewell. Crowpaw had found it hardest out of all of them to fit into the group, but after all they had been through together, even he felt the bond of friendship that connected all five cats.
“We must meet again soon,” Brambleclaw murmured, his voice low. “At the Great Rock, just as Midnight told us. We need to see the dying warrior so that we know what to do next.” He flicked his tail. “It might not be easy to convince our Clans that Midnight is telling the truth. The leaders aren’t going to want to hear that they must leave the forest. But if we’ve seen the dying warrior . . .”
“Why don’t we just bring our leaders with us?” Squirrelpaw mewed. “If they see the dying warrior too, they’ll have to believe Midnight is right.”
“I can’t imagine
