Cinderpelt glanced around. No cat was near. “When we went to the Moonstone yesterday, I could hardly hear StarClan,” she admitted.
“But did they say anything?” Leafpaw asked, alarmed.
Cinderpelt narrowed her eyes. “I know that they spoke to me, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. It was as if their voices were drowned by the roaring of a great wind.”
“You couldn’t make out anything?”
“Nothing.” Cinderpelt closed her eyes for a moment. “But they were there.”
“They must be suffering as much as we are,” Leafpaw murmured. “It must be terrible to watch the forest being destroyed, and to be powerless to stop it. After all, it was once their home too.”
Cinderpelt nodded. “You’re right. But like us, they will recover, as long as all five Clans remain.”
“But will they find us in our new home?” Leafpaw fretted.
“Will they know where to look for us?”
“These are questions we cannot answer.” Cinderpelt straightened up, and her voice became brisk. “Come on. Our Clanmates need us.”
Leafpaw padded to where Ravenpaw had left the rabbit. It lay untouched beside her father. A patrol of warriors had already left to find more.
“May I take this to Ferncloud and Birchkit?” she asked, but Firestar seemed lost in thought.
“Of course,” meowed Sandstorm.
Leafpaw glanced anxiously up at her mother. “Will he be okay?”
Firestar turned to face her. “Of course I will,” he meowed.
“Go ahead and take that to Ferncloud.”
Leafpaw picked up the rabbit and hurried to where Ferncloud was curled around Birchkit. The tabby kit was shivering with cold, and Ferncloud was licking him fiercely to warm him up.
“It’s too cold to be sleeping outside!” Ferncloud complained when Leafpaw appeared. “I hardly got a moment’s rest.” She gazed at Birchkit, her eyes glittering with fear, and Leafpaw guessed she had dreaded closing her eyes in case she woke to find the last of her kits dead.
“Here.” She dropped the rabbit on the ground. “This should help.”
Ferncloud’s eyes lit up. Flashing a grateful glance at Leafpaw, she tore off a hind leg and placed it in front of Birchkit. “Try this,” she urged him. “We used to eat rabbit all the time, but we haven’t tasted it in moons.”
“Make sure you have some too,” Leafpaw advised Ferncloud.
“I will,” Ferncloud promised.
Leafpaw’s belly growled, and she hoped the hunting patrol would return soon. She looked around to see if any of the other cats looked as though they needed help, but most of them were moving about quite cheerfully, shaking the stiffness from their limbs and padding to the rocks to lap water from the tiny hollows. Several cats, Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw among them, were sitting near the top of the ridge, the gray stone turned rosy by the sunrise.
Leafpaw heard Whitepaw pestering Brambleclaw. “Tell us what it was like. Please!”
Brambleclaw glanced over his shoulder at the far side of the ridge. “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”
“But if you told us, we’d be ready for anything!” Spiderpaw pointed out.
“He’s right,” Whitepaw mewed. “You’ve got to prepare us.”
Brambleclaw drew his tail over his paws with a resigned sigh. “Well, there are lots of sheep, which are fluffy white woolly things that look a bit like clouds on legs. They’re harm-less, but you’ll need to watch out for dogs when you see them, because the Twolegs use them to control the sheep. And Thunderpaths, of course—they’re mostly small, but there are many to cross. And then there are the mountains…”
His voice trailed away, and Leafpaw felt the cold wind pierce her fur. What was it about the mountains that frightened these cats so much? How would they get kits and elders through such a place?
Leafpaw had never guessed such a vast world existed beyond Highstones. Field after field stretched before them, dotted with sheep, looking exactly like clouds, as Brambleclaw had described. Squirrelpaw padded beside her, her breath billowing into the frosty air.
“Do you remember this?” Leafpaw asked.
“A bit,” Squirrelpaw mewed.
“So we’re going the right way?”
“Yes.”
Leafpaw wondered why her sister seemed so reluctant to talk. She watched her exchange an anxious glance with Brambleclaw. He had been weaving among the cats all morning, flanking first one side, then the other, as if he was afraid of losing one.
Leafpaw felt the air tremble, and a rumbling in the distance made her pause. It sounded as if a storm was coming, but the clear sky told her there couldn’t be. She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. A Thunderpath.
“It’s a big one,” Squirrelpaw warned.
As they drew nearer, the rumbling grew to a roar, and the stench began to burn Leafpaw’s throat. The cats in front slowed down, jostling together but still keeping closer to their Clanmates than the other cats. Squirrelpaw pushed forward, and Leafpaw followed until they reached a ditch with steeply sloping sides. Beyond it lay the Thunderpath.