and calling her by her new name. “Sorreltail! Sorreltail!” Her brothers, Sootfur and Rainwhisker, were among the first, their eyes gleaming with pride that their sister had finally joined them as a warrior.
Firestar waited until the noise had died down. “Sorreltail, according to tradition you must keep vigil in silence tonight, and watch over the camp.”
“While the rest of us get a good night’s sleep,” Cloudtail added.
The Clan leader flashed him a warning glance but said nothing as the cats parted to let Sorreltail take up her position in the middle of the clearing. She sat with her tail curled around her paws and her gaze fixed on the darkening sky, where the light of Silverpelt grew steadily stronger.
With the ceremony over, the rest of the cats slipped away into the shadows. Brambleclaw stretched and yawned, looking forward to his comfortable nest in the warriors’ den, but content to stay in the clearing for a while to enjoy the warm evening. He could not see any signs that other cats had shared his disturbing dream; and yet Bluestar had suggested that three other cats would be involved in the new prophecy. Brambleclaw felt a purr rising into his throat, half-amused by how quickly he had believed that a cat from StarClan had visited him in his dreams. That would teach him to gulp down fresh-kill just before he went to sleep.
“Brambleclaw.” Firestar padded over and settled down beside him. “Cloudtail says you hunted well today.”
“Thank you, Firestar.”
The leader’s gaze was fixed on his daughters, Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, who were heading towards the pile of fresh-kill.
“Do you miss Tawnypelt?” Firestar meowed unexpectedly.
Brambleclaw blinked in surprise. Tawnypelt was his sister; the former ThunderClan deputy, Tigerstar, had fathered them before he had been banished from the Clan for trying to seize power from Bluestar, who was leader then. Later Tigerstar had made himself leader of ShadowClan, only to be killed by a rogue cat in a failed attempt to extend his power over the whole forest. Tawnypelt had always felt that ThunderClan blamed her for her father’s crimes, and she had made the decision to join ShadowClan shortly after he became that Clan’s leader.
“Yes,” Brambleclaw replied. “Yes, Firestar, I miss her every day.”
“I didn’t understand how you might feel about her. Not until I saw how close those two are.” Firestar nodded towards the two sister apprentices, who were choosing prey from the pile.
“Firestar, you’re not being fair to yourself,” Brambleclaw insisted uncomfortably. “After all, you miss your sister, don’t you?” he dared to add.
Firestar had begun life as a kittypet before he joined ThunderClan, and his sister, Princess, still lived with Twolegs. Firestar visited her from time to time, and Brambleclaw knew very well how important they were to each other. Princess had given Firestar her firstborn kit to raise as a warrior—and that was Cloudtail, Brightheart’s loyal friend.
The Clan leader tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Of course I miss Princess,” he meowed at last. “But she’s a kittypet. She could never live this kind of life. You must wish that Tawnypelt had stayed here in ThunderClan.”
“I guess I do,” Brambleclaw admitted. “But she’s happier where she is.”
“That’s true.” Firestar nodded. “The most important thing is that you’ve both found a Clan where you can be loyal.”
A warm feeling crept through Brambleclaw. Once Firestar had doubted his loyalty because he looked so much like his father, Tigerstar, with the same muscular body and dark tabby pelt, the same amber eyes.
Brambleclaw suddenly wondered if a truly loyal Clan cat would mention the disturbing dream and Bluestar’s warning that great trouble was coming to the forest. He was trying to find the words to start when Firestar stood up, dipped his head briefly in farewell, and padded over to where Sandstorm was sitting with Greystripe near the Highrock.
Brambleclaw almost followed him, but then he reminded himself that if StarClan really wanted to send a prophecy of great danger, they would not give it to one of the youngest, least experienced warriors in the Clan. They would tell the medicine cat, or perhaps the Clan leader himself. And obviously Firestar and Cinderpelt had not received an omen, or they would be telling the Clan what to do about it. No, Brambleclaw told himself again, there was nothing whatsoever to worry about.
The sun had not yet risen when Brambleclaw set out with the dawn patrol. Even in the few days since Sorreltail’s warrior ceremony, the leaves had begun to turn to gold and the first chill of leaf-fall lay on the forest, though it still hadn’t rained for longer than a moon. The young warrior shivered as long grasses, heavy with dew, brushed against his fur. Cobwebs spread a grey film over the bushes, and the air was filled with damp, leafy scents. The twittering of waking birds began to drown out the soft padding of the cats’ paws.
Brightheart’s brother, Thornclaw, who was in the lead, paused to look back at Brambleclaw and Ashfur. “Firestar wants us to check Snakerocks,” he meowed. “Watch out for adders. There are more of them since the weather has been so hot.”
Brambleclaw instinctively unsheathed his claws. The adders would be hidden in cracks now, but as soon as the sun came up the warmth would tempt them out again. One bite from those poisoned jaws could kill a warrior before a medicine cat could do anything to help.
Before they had gone very far Brambleclaw began to hear faint sounds behind him, as if something were moving around in the undergrowth. He paused, glancing back in the hope of an easy bit of prey. At first he could see nothing; then he noticed the fronds of a thick clump of fern waving about, though there was no breeze. He sniffed the air, opening his jaws to drink it in, before letting the breath out again with a sigh.
“Come out, Squirrelpaw,” he meowed.
There was a moment’s silence. Then the bracken waved again and the stems parted as the dark ginger she-cat came out into the open. Her green eyes glared defiance.
“What’s going on?” Thornclaw padded up to Brambleclaw, with Ashfur just behind him.
Brambleclaw indicated the apprentice with a flick of his tail. “I heard something behind us,” he explained. “She must have followed us from the camp.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here!” Squirrelpaw protested hotly.
“You shouldn’t be here!” Brambleclaw retorted; somehow Squirrelpaw had only to open her mouth for him to feel that his fur was being rubbed the wrong way.
“Stop bickering, the pair of you,” Thornclaw growled. “You’re not kits anymore. Squirrelpaw, tell us what you’re doing. Did some cat send you with a message?”
“She wouldn’t have been skulking in the bracken if they had,” Brambleclaw couldn’t resist pointing out.
“No, they didn’t,” Squirrelpaw meowed with a resentful glance at Brambleclaw. Her paws scuffled in the grass. “I wanted to come with you, that’s all. I haven’t been on a patrol for ages.”
“And you weren’t told to come on this one,” Thornclaw replied. “Does Dustpelt
