Dawn

Leafpaw turned to see the gentle face of Spottedleaf beside her. The tortoiseshell medicine cat’s eyes glimmered, reflecting the starry waters, but her body shivered like a heat haze, no more solid than the stars in the water.

“You haven’t left us!” Leafpaw breathed.

But Spottedleaf did not answer. The wind dropped and she faded into shadow.

“You’re cheerful today,” Cinderpelt mewed. She looked up at Leafpaw, who was sitting beside her, washing in the early morning light that shone through the waterfall.

Leafpaw stopped washing. “I had a dream,” she confessed.

Cinderpelt sat up. “Did StarClan speak to you?”

Leafpaw blinked. Would Cinderpelt be offended that Star Clan had chosen an apprentice for their message, and not ThunderClan’s medicine cat? “I’m sorry,” she began.

“Perhaps they came when I was sleeping and you were awake, and that’s why they chose me—”

Cinderpelt cut her off with the gentlest touch of her tail on Leafpaw’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Leafpaw,” she mewed. “I’ve always known that you have a bond with StarClan that is stronger than anything I’ve seen before. It’s a great responsibility, and I’m very proud of how you cope with it.”

Leafpaw gazed at her, searching for words to express her relief and gratitude.

“What was the dream?” Cinderpelt prompted.

“It was very faint,” Leafpaw warned her. “But I know for certain that StarClan is still watching us, and I believe they will be with us wherever we are going.”

Firestar padded over, his fiery coat glowing almost white in the watery light.

“Are we leaving?” Cinderpelt asked.

Firestar shook his head. “It snowed all night, and Stoneteller says there’s more on the way. The Tribe is organizing a hunt so we’ll have enough fresh-kill to last out the bad weather.”

“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” Leafpaw mewed in alarm.

“For now.” Firestar watched Blackstar pacing back and forth in front of the cave entrance. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“Leafpaw!” Sorreltail bounded over. “Do you want to come hunting with some of the Tribe?” She glanced at Firestar. “If that’s okay?”

Firestar turned to Cinderpelt. “Can you spare her?”

“Yes, of course,” Cinderpelt answered.

“Thanks,” Leafpaw mewed. After living in the forest it felt strange to be cooped up in the gloomy cave, and despite the cold she welcomed the feeling of fresh air in her fur.

She followed Sorreltail over to Talon and Crag. Brook was with them, with Stormfur at her side. Leafpaw was startled to see how different Stormfur looked. His fur was streaked with mud, just like the Tribe cats’, and there was a toughness in his muscles that made him look more like a member of the Tribe than the skinny Clan cats.

“I hope they’re not going to slow us down,” Crag muttered to Brook and Talon. “We’ve got too many mouths to feed.”

“Of course they won’t slow us down,” Brook mewed.

“Stormfur was becoming a good prey-hunter by the time he left.”

“I suppose he wasn’t bad,” Crag conceded. He glanced at Leafpaw. “You’re an apprentice, right? What are you hoping to be? A prey-hunter or a cave-guard?”

Leafpaw stared at him, not understanding.

“The Tribe divides its duties,” Stormfur explained. “The cave-guards protect the Tribe; the prey-hunters feed them.

Brook is a prey-hunter and Crag is a cave-guard.”

“Then why are you coming hunting?” Leafpaw asked Crag hesitantly.

Crag let out an unexpected purr of amusement. “Who’s going to watch the skies while you’ve got your eye on the prey?” he asked, and Leafpaw remembered with a shudder the eagle that had attacked the Clan. She felt a prickle of resentment at Crag’s superior attitude, but resisted the urge to tell him she was an apprentice medicine cat; to a Tribe cat, that might sound as if she were claiming to be a leader.

“In the forest we could scent for danger and hunt at the same time,” Sorreltail mewed.

“Really? Well, how do you scent an eagle flying a mountain’s height above your head?” Crag retorted.

“Come on,” Brook meowed impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”

She led the way out from behind the waterfall and along a ledge that led them up among the peaks. The blizzard had died away, but the thick snow soon froze Leafpaw’s feet. The air was so cold, it almost hurt to breathe, and her eyes started to stream as soon as they left the warmth of the cave. But there was no way she was going to complain; she wanted to prove to Crag that forest cats could handle anything the mountain cats could. She stifled a shiver and glanced up.

Heavy yellow clouds nested on the mountaintops, promising more snow.

As they neared a stunted thornbush, its branches weighed down with fresh snow, Brook stopped and crouched low. Crag and Stormfur flanked her, ducking down as well. Leafpaw copied them, pressing her belly flat against the snow beside Sorreltail. Brook stared at the bush, her nose twitching as though she scented prey.

Leafpaw sniffed. The smell of rabbit wafted past her on the breeze. Instinctively she started to creep forward.

“Stop!” Stormfur warned her with a hiss. “Wait and watch how Brook does it.”