Dawn

A glimmer of hope sparked in Firestar’s eye, then disappeared. “How will he escape the Twolegs?” he asked bleakly. “And then find our new home…?”

“Are you going to name a new deputy?” she ventured.

“No!” Her father leaped up, and Leafpaw shrank back.

“There’s no need,” he went on quietly. “If there is even the smallest chance he’s alive, then Graystripe is still ThunderClan’s deputy.”

Before Leafpaw could say anything, mews sounded from behind them. The ThunderClan hunting patrols had returned and were carrying fresh-kill up the rock—birds and mice, not many, but enough to allow each cat a small meal.

ShadowClan’s hunting patrol returned shortly after. They had found only one thrush between them.

“Will you share our catch with them?” Leafpaw mewed to her father.

“Blackstar would be insulted by the offer,” Firestar replied.

“I suppose they can hunt while we travel,” Leafpaw suggested.

“Hopefully we all can. There must be more prey out there than here.” Firestar shook himself. “Go and get something to eat,” he ordered. “RiverClan will be here soon.”

“Okay.” Leafpaw hurried down to where Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw were sharing a chaffinch. They looked drenched, their pelts dark and sodden.

“Want some?” Squirrelpaw offered.

“Yes, please.” Leafpaw’s belly felt hollow, and the scent of fresh-kill made her mouth water. Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw sat back and let her take a bite.

“Do you want to give some to your sister?” Leafpaw asked Brambleclaw. The ShadowClan cats were laboriously passing their meager catch around; each cat took only a small mouthful before pushing it on to the next.

Brambleclaw shook his head. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

Leafpaw was startled by the bitterness in his voice.

“We met Tawnypelt while we were out hunting, and Brambleclaw asked if she wanted to hunt with us,” Squirrelpaw explained. “She told us she was a ShadowClan warrior and would never hunt for another Clan.”

“I don’t know why she was so superior about it,” Brambleclaw growled. “It’s as if she’s forgotten that she was born a ThunderClan cat, or that we journeyed to the sun-drown-place together.”

“It must be difficult for her, being among ThunderClan again,” Leafpaw ventured. “She probably feels she has to prove her loyalty to ShadowClan more than ever.”

“Leafpaw’s right,” Squirrelpaw meowed. “Don’t take it personally, Brambleclaw. It wasn’t long ago that you were telling me that your first loyalty is to ThunderClan, not your kin. Allow Tawnypelt to have the same feelings for ShadowClan.”

“I suppose so,” Brambleclaw agreed grudgingly. “I just wanted to hunt with my sister again.” Leafpaw heard the sadness in his voice and thought how hard it must be having a littermate in another Clan. She glanced at Squirrelpaw, grateful that she and her sister shared the same home wherever it was.

“Leafpaw!” Cinderpelt was calling from the den. “Come and help me!”

Leafpaw bounded up the slope.

“Will you take these herbs to the queen and the elders?”

“What about Birchkit?”

“Just give him half a dose.”

Leafpaw glanced warily at Blackstar. “Are we sharing with ShadowClan?”

“We’ll have some left over,” Cinderpelt mewed, her eyes glittering. “I’ll offer them to Littlecloud and tell him we have no need for them. Blackstar can take them or leave them as he wants.”

Leafpaw admired her mentor’s kindheartedness as well as her craftiness; this was an offer Blackstar could accept without losing face. She picked up a bundle of herbs and carried it to Ferncloud. The she-cat accepted the bitter herbs gratefully, though Birchkit was not so thankful.

“It tastes like crow-food!” he complained.

“You’ve never eaten crow-food,” Ferncloud pointed out.

“Now just swallow it.”

Leafpaw purred with amusement and carried her bundle to where Frostfur, Longtail, and Speckletail lay, sheltered by the overhang.

As she put the herbs down, Frostfur shook her head. “Don’t waste those on us,” she murmured. “We’re not going with the Clan.”

Leafpaw blinked. “Not going! Why?”

Firestar trotted over. “What’s the matter?”

“Frostfur says they aren’t coming with us!”

“We’re too old to make such a journey,” Speckletail rasped.

“We’d only hold you back.”

Longtail flicked his tail. “And what use would I be? I can’t even see where I’m putting my paws!”

“The Clan would help you,” Firestar assured him gently.

He looked up at the elderly she-cats. “Just as they would help all of you.”

“We know they would,” Frostfur mewed. “But Speckletail and I are too old for so much change. We’d rather die here beneath Silverpelt, knowing StarClan waits for us.”

Leafpaw flinched. Surely StarClan would go wherever they did?

Firestar nodded gravely. “I cannot force you to come with us, Frostfur,” he murmured. “I know your paws are weary, Speckletail’s too, and you already hear StarClan whispering to you. But Longtail, I won’t leave you behind.” When the tabby warrior opened his mouth to argue, Firestar went on, “Yesterday you heard the WindClan cats coming before any other cat.