“And what do you know about it?” Crowpaw growled. “In WindClan, apprentices know when to keep their mouths shut.”
“Oh, so you’ll be quiet from now on?” Squirrelpaw mewed cheekily. “Good.”
With his top lip drawn back in a snarl, Crowpaw stalked around her and went on.
Brambleclaw padded across to his Clan mate. “Thanks for backing me up there,” he murmured.
Squirrelpaw’s eyes flashed angrily at him. “I’m not doing it for you!” she snapped. “I’m just not letting that stupid furball think WindClan is so much better than ThunderClan.” She dashed off with an annoyed hiss, past Feathertail and Stormfur, who had stopped to watch.
“Don’t get too far ahead!” Brambleclaw called after her, but she ignored him.
As he set off in pursuit, Brambleclaw was uncomfortably aware that none of the other cats had tried to defend him, not even Tawnypelt. They must all be full of doubts about his vision of the sun-drown place, and why they had to go there, just like Feathertail. A sense of responsibility was settling more heavily on Brambleclaw with every step he took, and he knew that if any of his companions were injured or even killed on the journey, it would be his fault. Perhaps StarClan had gotten it wrong this time. Perhaps in the end, not even the faith and courage of warriors would be enough to bring them through safely.
Not long after sunhigh, they came to their first Thunderpath. It was narrower than the one they were used to, and curved so that they could not see monsters approaching until the last moment. On the opposite side, a tall hedge stretched as far as they could see in both directions.
Crowpaw approached cautiously and sniffed the hard black edge of the Thunderpath. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose. “It’s foul stuff. Why do Twolegs spread it all over the place?”
“Their monsters travel on it,” Stormfur told him.
“I know that!” Crowpaw snapped. “Their monsters stink, too.”
Stormfur shrugged. “That’s Twolegs for you.”
“Are we going to sit here until sunset discussing the habits of Twolegs?” Tawnypelt interrupted. “Or are we going to cross this Thunderpath?”
Brambleclaw crouched on the grass verge, ears pricked to catch the sound of approaching monsters. “When I say ‘now,’ run,” he told Squirrelpaw, who was crouching beside him.
“You’ll be fine.”
Squirrelpaw didn’t look at him. She had been in a bad mood ever since her earlier quarrel with Crowpaw. “I’m not scared, you know,” she hissed.
“Then you should be,” Tawnypelt grunted from her other side. “Didn’t you listen to what we told you when we crossed the Thunderpath near Highstones? Get this straight: they’re dangerous even for experienced warriors. Cats have died on them.”
Squirrelpaw glanced up at her and nodded, her green eyes huge.
“Good,” mewed the ShadowClan warrior. “So listen to Brambleclaw, and when he tells you to go, run like you’ve never run before.”
“Before we cross”—Brambleclaw raised his voice so all the cats could hear him—“I think we should decide what we are going to do on the other side. We can’t see beyond that hedge, and I can’t pick up any scents for the reek of the Thunderpath.”
Stormfur raised his head and opened his jaws to taste the air.
“Nor can I,” he agreed. “I suggest we cross, go straight through the hedge, and meet up again on the other side. If there is anything dangerous through there, the six of us together should be able to deal with it.”
Brambleclaw was impressed by Stormfur’s sensible thinking.
“Okay,” he meowed, and the rest of the cats, even Crowpaw, murmured their assent.
“Brambleclaw, you give the word,” Stormfur mewed.
Once more Brambleclaw strained to listen. A low growling in the distance quickly grew into a roar, and a monster leaped around the bend, its unnatural, shiny pelt gleaming as it swept past. It buffeted the cats with a hot, gritty wind and left them choking in the reek it left behind.
Almost at once another monster passed, going in the other direction. Then quiet fell again, heavy like a blanket of snow; when Brambleclaw pricked his ears he could hear nothing but the distant barking of a dog.
“Now!” he yowled.
He sprang forward, aware of Squirrelpaw keeping pace with him on one side and Feathertail on the other. His paws pattered on the hard surface of the Thunderpath; then he reached the narrow strip of grass on the other side and was thrusting through the hedge, spiky branches snagging in his fur.
Pushing hard, he burst through into the open. For a moment he could not make sense of what he saw, and almost froze in panic. He caught a glimpse of leaping flame, and the acrid tang of smoke filled his throat. There was a high-pitched shout and a Twoleg kit came running toward him, not much taller than a fox, with thick, unsteady legs. The barking of the dog was suddenly much louder.
“Squirrelpaw, stay with me!” He gasped, but when he turned to look for her the ginger apprentice had disappeared.
He heard Stormfur yowling, “Stay together! Over here!”
Brambleclaw glanced around, but he could not see any of his companions, and his paws were carrying him into the depths of a holly bush, the closest refuge he could see. His belly brushing the earth, he crawled into shelter, and felt himself pressing up against fur. He heard a frightened whimper; in the dim light he made out a flecked gray pelt and recognized Feathertail.
“It’s only me,” he murmured.
“Brambleclaw!” Feathertail’s voice was shaking. “For a moment I thought it was that dog.”
“Have you seen the others?” Brambleclaw asked her. “Did you see where Squirrelpaw went?”
Feathertail shook her head, her blue eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’re fine,” he mewed, giving her ear a comforting lick. “I’ll see what’s happening out there.”
He crept forward a couple of tail-lengths until he could peer out. The fire, he realized thankfully, was only a heap of burning branches, confined to a small area not far from where he had broken in; a fully-grown Twoleg was feeding more branches to it. The Twoleg kit had joined him.
Brambleclaw could still hear the dog barking, but he could not see it, and the smoke prevented him from scenting it.
More important, he could not see any of his missing companions.
Wriggling back to Feathertail, he whispered, “Come on, follow me. The Twolegs aren’t paying any attention.”
“What about the dog?”
“I don’t know where it is, but it isn’t here. Listen, this is what we’ll do.” Brambleclaw knew that he had to come up with a plan right away, to get Feathertail out of there before panic froze her completely. Their holly bush was growing close to a wooden fence, and a little farther along a small tree stretched its branches into the next garden. “Over there,” he meowed, twitching his ears toward it. “Climb the tree; then we can get on top of the fence. We can go anywhere from there.”
He wondered briefly what he would do if Feathertail was so spooked that she refused to move, but the gray she-cat nodded determinedly.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yes—I’ll be right behind you.”
At once Feathertail dived out of their refuge, raced along the bottom of the fence, and took a flying leap into the tree.
Brambleclaw, hard on her paws, heard the Twoleg kit shout again. Then he was clawing at the trunk, scrabbling hard until he reached the safety of a branch and the shelter of thick leaves. He caught Feathertail’s scent and saw her blue eyes peering worriedly at him.
“Brambleclaw,” she mewed, “I think we’ve found the dog.”