Dawn

Talon glanced at Mudclaw. Squirrelpaw wondered if he thought Mudclaw was one of the Clan leaders, since Tallstar was too frail to speak on behalf of the WindClan cats.

“We’ll come too,” Mudclaw muttered.

Talon dipped his head respectfully. “Good.”

Tallpoppy picked up her kit by the scruff of her neck.

Marshkit squirmed and gave a squeak of protest. “It’s all right, little one,” his mother murmured. “You’ll be safe soon.”

The others began to stir, hauling themselves to their paws as they prepared to follow the Tribe cats to the cave.

Suddenly a dark shape raced from a shadowy gully near the overhang.

“Brambleclaw! I’ve scented the Tribe!” It was Stormfur.

He paused, staring around the surprised faces. Then he recognized Talon. “You’re here!”

“We found Squirrelpaw,” Talon explained.

Stormfur padded forward and touched the cave-guard’s flank with his nose. “How’s Brook?” he asked.

“She’s fine,” Talon replied. “We’d better get on.” He glanced at Jag and Night. “I’ll lead the way; you two bring up the rear.”

Squirrelpaw felt exhaustion dragging at her paws as she helped to guide the Clans along the unseen paths that led toward the waterfall. She paused only when they reached the cleft in the mountain where the water thundered over the rocks and pounded, frothing, into the deep pool below.

Brambleclaw, Crowpaw, Stormfur, and Tawnypelt stopped beside her.

“We’re back,” Squirrelpaw breathed.

Stormfur glanced at the mound of earth that marked his sister’s resting place. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever see this place again,” he murmured.

The Clans padded past them, following Talon onto the narrow ledge that led behind the wall of water.

“Come on,” Stormfur mewed. “The Clans will need us.

They’ve never met the Tribe before.” He hurried forward, Brambleclaw, Squirrelpaw, and Tawnypelt following. Crowpaw stayed behind, staring at Feathertail’s grave.

The cats filed slowly behind the waterfall, their fur darkening as the spray soaked their pelts. Stormfur, Brambleclaw, and Tawnypelt weaved among them. Squirrelpaw saw Ashfur stop at the edge of the thundering sheet of water. “We have to go behind there?”

Behind the waterfall, the light wavered on the rock, which glittered and dripped with moisture. “Go on,” Squirrelpaw urged Ashfur. “It’s warm inside; I promise.”

The ThunderClan warrior stepped inside, and Squirrelpaw followed him. Half-forgotten scents washed over her, and, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw the Tribe staring at the visitors in astonishment.

One young she-cat, her brown tabby fur just visible beneath the streaks of mud that all Tribe cats wore, was looking around with something close to excitement, and even joy.

It was Brook Where Small Fish Swim, the prey-hunter who had befriended the Clan cats on their last visit to the cave.

Squirrelpaw saw her desperately searching the sea of faces, and knew she was looking for only one cat.

Squirrelpaw felt fur brush against hers as Stormfur bounded past. He headed straight for Brook, and the two cats touched noses with such tenderness that Squirrelpaw felt a rush of pity. It was all too clear that Stormfur had more heart-break ahead of him, when the time came to leave the Tribe she-cat for a second time.

Chapter 23

Leafpaw padded into the cave, blinking at the gloom. The roar of the waterfall made the air tremble, and the light filtering through the sheet of tumbling water quivered on the rocky walls. A stream sparkled like frost as it trickled down the mossy rocks and ran into a pool in the cave floor. Two tunnels led away into darkness, one at each end of the back wall, and narrow claws of stone hung down from the shadowy roof far above.

Leafpaw felt the Tribe cats staring at her, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. She padded over to Squirrelpaw. “They don’t seem frightened of us.”

Squirrelpaw blinked. “Why should they be? We hardly look threatening, as thin as we are. And besides, there are no other cats around here. Now that Sharptooth is dead, the only enemies the Tribe knows are eagles.”

“I’d forgotten about Sharptooth,” Leafpaw mewed. “All this would have been so much worse if he were still prowling the mountains.”

“Yes,” Squirrelpaw agreed, her gaze softening. “When Feathertail died, she did more than save the Tribe. She helped to protect us, too.”

As her eyes adjusted, Leafpaw began to pick out individual shapes, some lithe and sleek, others well muscled and broad shouldered. Yet they were all smaller than the Clan cats—even WindClan—leaner, with broad heads and slender necks.

The kits playing outside the entrance to one of the tunnels stopped and gazed at the Clan cats as they filed into the cave, their eyes wide and curious. A gray-and-white queen padded over to Leafpaw and sniffed her pelt.

“This is Wing,” Squirrelpaw explained. “She looked after Tawnypelt last time we were here, when she was sick from a rat bite.”