“You’re right.” Brambleclaw was so relieved to have won their agreement that he did not try to argue. “Thanks, both of you.”
“So when do we leave?” Stormfur mewed.
“I thought the day before half-moon,” Brambleclaw suggested. “That should give us enough time to talk to the others.”
Rising to his paws, he padded down to the water’s edge.
The sun was going down, red behind bars of dark cloud. A breeze ruffled his drying fur and he shivered again, less from cold than from the thought of the path they had to travel.
“I know Tawnypelt will come if I ask her,” he meowed, “but what about Crowpaw? He’d rather eat fox dung than go on a journey with us. But if all the cats StarClan have chosen don’t go together, we might fail the prophecy.”
“Crowpaw will understand,” Feathertail tried to reassure him, though Brambleclaw wished he had her confidence.
“We’ll help you persuade him,” Stormfur offered. “He comes to the river to drink every day about sunset. It’s too late now, so why don’t we meet there tomorrow and talk to him together?”
“Okay.” Brambleclaw blinked his gratitude. Somehow, the prophecy seemed to weigh less heavily when he was sharing it with friends. “Provided he comes, after this rain. WindClan should have water of their own now, remember.”
“If he doesn’t come,” mewed Feathertail, sounding determined, “we’ll just have to think of something else.”
More rain fell during the night. WindClan’s moorland streams would be flowing again without a doubt, making Brambleclaw more anxious than ever that the WindClan apprentice would not come into RiverClan territory to drink.
He was restless all day; Cloudtail, on hunting patrol with him and Dustpelt, kept asking if he had ants in his fur.
When the fresh-kill pile had been restocked, Brambleclaw managed to slip out of camp again on his own. He especially wanted to avoid Squirrelpaw, who was bound to ask him where he was going.
The sun was sinking by the time he reached the border with RiverClan, in sight of the Twoleg bridge. It wasn’t long before he saw the two RiverClan warriors climbing the riverbank and scooting across the bridge with their heads low.
Stormfur beckoned with his tail, and Brambleclaw raced across the border to meet him and Feathertail at the near end of the bridge.
“Better hide,” Stormfur meowed. “We don’t know how many WindClan cats will come, and you’re not supposed to be here.”
Brambleclaw nodded. The three cats crept into the shelter of a thornbush near the place where the WindClan cats came to drink. Just below their hiding place the river raced noisily past, its brown water flecked with foam as it poured out of the gorge.
They did not have long to wait before Brambleclaw caught a strong WindClan scent and a group of cats appeared from the direction of Fourtrees. The Clan leader, Tallstar, came first, followed by Onewhisker and a ginger warrior Brambleclaw didn’t recognize. Other cats came after them and Brambleclaw’s heart began to race uncomfortably when he spotted Crowpaw among them with his mentor, Mudclaw.
The WindClan cats padded down the slope to the riverbank and crouched at the water’s edge to drink. Frustrated, Brambleclaw saw that Crowpaw stayed in the middle of the group, too far away to call to him without other cats hearing.
“I’ll have to go and fetch him,” Feathertail murmured. She slipped out from underneath the bush and headed for the river.
Brambleclaw watched her greet the WindClan cats, stopping to speak briefly with Morningflower, one of the WindClan elders. Their exchange was polite, though not friendly; Brambleclaw wondered how long the Clans’ uneasy alliance over the water would last if WindClan went on coming to drink now that the drought was over.
Soon Feathertail went to crouch beside Crowpaw at the water’s edge. Brambleclaw dug his claws into the ground as he watched her straighten up again, shake water from her whiskers, and set off back to the thornbush. Crowpaw was not following her; had the WindClan apprentice decided he wanted no more to do with the mission, or had Feathertail been unable to tell him about the meeting?
“What’s the matter?” he hissed as Feathertail crawled back into the shelter of the branches. “Did you talk to him?”
“It’s okay.” Feathertail pushed her muzzle into his side.
“He’s coming. He just doesn’t want WindClan to see.”
While she was speaking, Crowpaw backed away from the river and began to pad up the bank toward the bush. His Clan mates were still drinking. A couple of foxlengths away he glanced around casually and then dived for the bush before any cat could notice him go.
As the leaves rustled into place around him he glared at Brambleclaw with hostility in his green eyes. “I thought I could smell ThunderClan,” he growled. “What do you want now?”
Brambleclaw exchanged an apprehensive glance with Feathertail. This wasn’t a good start. “I’ve had another dream,” he began, swallowing nervously.
“What sort of dream?” Crowpaw’s voice was cold. “I haven’t had one. Why would StarClan send you a dream and not me?”
Stormfur raised his hackles and Brambleclaw bit back a sharp response. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
A grunt was Crowpaw’s only reply, but he listened in silence as Brambleclaw described what he had seen. “Ravenpaw, the loner who lives on the far side of your territory, visited the camp yesterday,” he finished. “He told me that the sun-drown place is real. I… I think StarClan are telling us to go there.
And we should go soon, all of us, in case the rest of the prophecy comes true and the Clans are in too much trouble to be saved.”
Crowpaw’s eyes stretched wide. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” he meowed. “You’re asking us to leave our Clans and go trekking off into the unknown—StarClan knows how far!—just because you’ve had a dream that none of us have had?
Who died and made you leader?”
Brambleclaw found it hard to meet his eyes; Crowpaw was only echoing his own doubts. “I’m not trying to be leader,” he stammered. “I’m just telling you what I think StarClan want.”
“I’m willing to go,” Feathertail added. “Even though I haven’t had another dream.”
“Then you’re more mouse-brained than he is,” Crowpaw retorted. “Well, I won’t go. I’ll be made a warrior soon. I’ve worked hard for it, and I’m not leaving the Clan so close to the end of my training.”
“But Crowpaw—” Brambleclaw started to protest.
“No!” The apprentice showed his teeth in a snarl. “I’m not coming. What would my Clan think?”
“Maybe they’ll honor you,” Stormfur meowed. The gray warrior’s eyes were serious. “Think, Crowpaw! If trouble is really coming, worse than anything we’ve seen before, what will the Clans think of the cats who help them? They’ll understand how much faith we had to place in StarClan, that they were leading us on a genuine mission, and they’ll know how much courage it took to do this.”
“But you weren’t chosen!” Crowpaw pointed out. “It doesn’t matter to you one way or the other.”
“Maybe not, but I’m coming anyway,” Stormfur told him.
“And the reason StarClan aren’t giving us clear instructions is because they want us to show faith and courage,” Brambleclaw added. “Those are the qualities that a true warrior needs.”
“Please, Crowpaw!” Feathertail’s eyes shone. “The mission might fail without you. Remember that you were chosen—the only apprentice singled out by StarClan. They must believe that you can do this.”
Crowpaw hesitated, looking at her. The red light of sunset had faded, leaving them in twilight, and Brambleclaw could hear and scent the WindClan cats as they passed the bush on their way back to their own territory. Crowpaw would have to leave with them before they noticed he was missing; there was no more time to plead or reason with him.