“No! No!” he yowled. “Help me!”
He kicked and thrashed in a panic but he was growing weaker and his sodden fur was dragging him down. The waves drove him onward, crashing against the rocks; now the black mouth loomed over him, spitting salty foam, as if it were about to swallow him alive…
Then his eyes flew open, and there were leaves above him, not sheer cliffs, and he was supported by moss-cushioned sand rather than sinking in bottomless water. Brambleclaw lay shuddering with relief as he realized that he was lying in his nest in the warriors’ den. The thunder of the waves became the rushing of wind in the branches above his head; water had dripped through the thick canopy of leaves and formed an icy trickle in his neck fur, and he knew the rain must have come at last. His throat was as sore as if he had swallowed a riverful of salty water, and his mouth was parched.
Brambleclaw sat up restlessly. Dustpelt lifted his head and muttered, “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you keep quiet and let the rest of us sleep?”
“Sorry,” Brambleclaw meowed. He began grooming the moss out of his fur, his heart still thudding as if it were going to break out of his chest. He felt as limp and exhausted as if he had really been struggling to save himself in that strange salt water.
Gradually the strengthening of the light in the den told him that the sun had come out. He heaved himself to his paws and poked his head out between the branches, blinking as he looked for a puddle where he could quench his thirst.
A fresh breeze was driving the clouds away. In front of Brambleclaw the clearing was filled with pale yellow light from the rising sun, reflecting from puddles on the ground and water droplets hanging on every branch and frond of fern. The whole forest seemed to be drinking in the life-giving water, the trees lifting their dusty leaves to catch each sparkling drop.
“Thank StarClan!” Mousefur meowed as she pushed her way out of the den beside Brambleclaw. “I’d almost forgotten what rain smells like.”
Brambleclaw staggered across the clearing to a puddle near the base of the Highrock, where he lowered his head and lapped, trying to wash the taste of salt from his mouth. He had never imagined that water could taste like that; like the other cats, he would sometimes lick salt from the surface of rocks, or taste it in the blood of prey, but the memory of drinking that salt-laden water made every hair on his pelt prickle.
A final gust of rain ruffled the pools of water and rinsed the sticky feel of salt from Brambleclaw’s fur. Raising his head to enjoy the sharp, cold shower, he spotted Firestar emerging from his den under the Highrock and turning to speak to the cat who followed him out. Brambleclaw was surprised to see that the second cat was Ravenpaw.
“Twolegs are always doing strange things,” Firestar was saying as they came into earshot. “I’m grateful that you came all this way to tell us, but I really don’t think it’s got anything to do with us.”
Ravenpaw looked uneasy. “I know Twolegs often act without reason, but I’ve never seen anything like this. There are far more of them on the Thunderpath than before, walking along the edge with shiny, bright-colored pelts. And they have new kinds of monsters—huge ones!”
“Yes, Ravenpaw, so you said.” Firestar sounded faintly impatient with his old friend. “But we haven’t seen any of them in our territory. I’ll tell you what…” He paused to press his muzzle affectionately against Ravenpaw’s side. “I’ll tell the patrols to keep their eyes open for anything unusual.”
Ravenpaw twitched the fur on his shoulders. “I suppose that’s all you can do.”
“And you could drop in on WindClan on your way home,” Firestar suggested. “They’re closer than we are to that part of the Thunderpath, so Tallstar ought to know if something strange is going on.”
“Yes, Firestar, I’ll do that.”
“Wait a moment, I’ve got a better idea,” meowed Firestar.
“Why don’t I come with you part of the way? I could take a patrol up to Fourtrees at the same time. Stay there, and I’ll fetch Graystripe and Sandstorm.” He bounded off into the warriors’ den without waiting for Ravenpaw to reply.
When the Clan leader had gone, Ravenpaw caught sight of Brambleclaw and gave him a friendly nod. “Hi, how are you?” he meowed. “How’s the prey running?”
“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Brambleclaw was aware that his voice still sounded shaky, and he wasn’t surprised when Ravenpaw peered at him more closely.
“You look like you’ve been chased all night by a horde of badgers,” the loner meowed. “Is anything the matter?”
“Nothing really…” Brambleclaw scuffled his paws on the ground. “I had a dream, that’s all.”
Ravenpaw’s eyes were sympathetic. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was nonsense really,” Brambleclaw murmured. His ears filled again with the sound of the saltwater waves crashing and bellowing against the cliffs, and he suddenly found himself spilling everything to Ravenpaw: the vast expanse of water, the salt taste of it when it filled his mouth, the gaping black jaws in the cliff that had threatened to swallow him, and, most alarmingly of all, the sun sinking in a pool of bloodred fire. “That place can’t be real,” he finished. “I don’t know why it’s gotten to me like this. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to think about,” he added grimly.
To his surprise, Ravenpaw did not leap in to agree that Brambleclaw had had a meaningless dream about a place that existed only in his troubled imagination. Instead, the black cat was silent for a long time, his eyes clouded with thought.
“Salt water, cliffs,” he murmured. Then, “The place is real,” he meowed. “I’ve heard of it before, though I’ve never seen it for myself.”
“Real? Wh-what do you mean?” Brambleclaw stared at him, his fur standing on end.
“Rogue cats come to the Twoleg farm sometimes, when they have traveled far and are in need of shelter for the night and a spare mouse or two,” Ravenpaw explained. “Cats who live toward the place where the sun sets. They have told Barley and me about a place where there is more water than you could possibly imagine, like a river that has only one bank, and it’s too salty to drink. Every night it swallows the sun in a flash of fire, bleeding into the waves without a sound.”
Brambleclaw shivered; the loner’s words brought his dream back far too vividly for comfort. “Yes, I saw the place where the sun drowns. And the dark cave with teeth?”
“I can’t tell you about that,” Ravenpaw admitted. “But this dream must have been sent to you for a reason. Be patient, and perhaps StarClan will show you more.”
“StarClan?” Brambleclaw felt his belly flip over.
“How could you dream of a place you have never seen unless StarClan willed it?” Ravenpaw pointed out.
Brambleclaw had to admit the logic in what the loner said.
“Say it was StarClan who sent me this dream about the sun-drown place,” he began. “Do you think they could possibly be telling me to go there?”
Ravenpaw’s eyes widened in surprise. “Go there? Why?”
“Well, I had another dream first,” Brambleclaw explained uncomfortably. “I… I thought I met Bluestar in the forest.
She told me about a new prophecy, that great trouble is coming to the forest. She said that I’d been chosen…” He said nothing about the cats from the other Clans. Even though Ravenpaw lived outside the warrior code, he would not approve of meeting with the others in secret, as Brambleclaw had done. “Why me?” he finished in confusion. “Why not Firestar? He would know what to do.”