Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes at him, but went on without arguing. When she finished, the old loner was silent for a while—so long that Brambleclaw wondered if he had fallen asleep. Then he straightened up and opened his yellow eyes wide, with a fire in them that had not been there before. “I know about this sun-drown place,” he meowed unexpectedly.
“I’ve spoken to cats who’ve been there. It’s not far from here.”
“Where?” Squirrelpaw leaped to her paws. “How far?”
“Two, maybe three days’ travel,” Purdy replied. His eyes gleamed. “Tell you what, I’ll come with you an’ show you.”
His expression faded to disappointment when the forest cats said nothing. At last, Crowpaw voiced what Brambleclaw was thinking. “No way. You won’t be able to travel fast enough.”
“And I don’t remember inviting you,” Tawnypelt muttered.
“But if he knows the right way…” Stormfur mewed.
“Maybe we should let him come.”
“He’s bound to know the way through this Twolegplace,” Feathertail added, twitching her tail toward the rows and rows of dull red Twoleg nests that blocked their view of the horizon.
That was true enough, Brambleclaw thought, remembering the trouble they had met in the last Twolegplace. If Purdy really did know the way to the sun-drown place it might be quicker to go with him, even if he couldn’t move so fast.
Perhaps he was the guide StarClan had sent in response to Brambleclaw’s prayer. He seemed an unlikely savior, but he certainly had the courage of any forest cat.
“Okay,” he meowed, realizing with a jolt of surprise that the other cats were looking at him as if they expected him to make the decision. “I think he should come.”
Chapter 20
Purdy led the forest cats along the edge of the wood. It was the day after their narrow escape from the dog, and Brambleclaw was still struggling with doubts about his decision to follow the old cat; he knew that Crowpaw and Tawnypelt were unhappy about it, too. But there seemed no other choice; more and more Twoleg nests filled the horizon, and clouds still covered the sky, so there was no sun to guide them to the sun-drown place.
“Is there any chance of more food?” he asked Purdy as they left the trees behind and began to cross a grassy space dotted with clumps of brightly colored flowers. “The fish yesterday weren’t really enough, and Crowpaw didn’t eat at all.”
“Sure, I can take you to a place,” Purdy replied with a hostile glance at Crowpaw, who had been the most outspoken in voicing his distrust of the old cat.
He led them to the other side of the grassy place, where there was yet another row of Twoleg nests. Brambleclaw watched uneasily as the old cat flattened his belly to the ground and heaved himself under a wooden gate, grunting with the effort and shaking himself vigorously on the other side.
“More Twolegs?” Crowpaw hissed. “I’m not going in there.”
“Suit yourself,” Purdy meowed, beginning to pad up the path to the door with his tail held straight up.
“We’d better all stay together,” Brambleclaw murmured.
“Remember what happened last time.”
Crowpaw snorted but said nothing, and none of the other cats disagreed. One by one they squeezed under the gate and followed Purdy up the path. Crowpaw came last, casting wary glances behind him.
Purdy was waiting for them by the half-open door of the Twoleg nest. A harsh glow lit up the space inside it, which was full of strange shapes and scents that Brambleclaw had never encountered before.
“In there?” he mewed to Purdy. “You’re expecting us to go into an Upwalker nest?”
Purdy twitched his tail impatiently. “That’s where the food is. I know this place. I often come here.”
“This is wasting time,” Tawnypelt meowed. Brambleclaw thought his sister sounded scared; her claws were flexing anxiously on the hard stuff of the path. “We can’t go in there.
We’re not kittypets. Eating kittypet food is against the warrior code.”
“Oh, come on.” Stormfur gave Tawnypelt’s ear a friendly flick with his tail. “There’s no harm in it. We’re on a long journey, and if we can get food easily it saves time we would have to spend hunting—time we might need for something else. StarClan will understand.”
Tawnypelt shook her head, still unconvinced, but Feathertail looked reassured by her brother’s reasoning, and both RiverClan cats ventured cautiously inside.
“That’s right,” Purdy encouraged them. “There’s the food, see, in bowls over there, all ready for us.”
Brambleclaw’s stomach growled; the fish he had eaten had been small, and it had been a long time ago. “Okay,” he meowed. “I think Stormfur’s right. Let’s go, but make it quick.”
Squirrelpaw didn’t wait for his decision, bounding inside hard on Purdy’s paws. Brambleclaw followed her, but Crowpaw and Tawnypelt stayed outside.
“We’ll keep watch!” Tawnypelt called after him.
Stormfur and Feathertail were already crouched beside the bowls, gulping eagerly. Brambleclaw peered suspiciously at the food; it was hard, round pellets like rabbit droppings, but the scent that came from it told him it would be safe to eat.
Squirrelpaw thrust her muzzle into the other bowl; when she looked up her fur was plastered into spikes by something white, and her green eyes were glowing. “It’s good!” she exclaimed. “Purdy, what is it?”
“Milk,” Purdy replied. “A bit like the milk you suck from your mother.”
“And kittypets drink this every day?” Squirrelpaw was astonished. “Wow! It’s nearly worth being a kittypet.” She plunged her muzzle back into the bowl.
Brambleclaw crouched beside her and lapped up a few drops of the white liquid. Squirrelpaw was right—it was good, rich and full-tasting with hardly any tang of Twolegs about it. He settled down and tucked in.
The first hint he had of trouble was the sound of a door opening and a high-pitched Twoleg voice crying out above his head. Brambleclaw sprang to his paws in time to see a Twoleg kit run through the door and scoop up Feathertail in her arms.
Taken by surprise, Feathertail let out a startled yowl and began struggling, but the young Twoleg had her in a tight clasp. Stormfur stretched up with his forepaws, trying to reach his sister, but the Twoleg kit took no notice. Brambleclaw stared in dismay. Feathertail! He glanced around for Purdy, only to see the old cat padding calmly toward a full-grown Twoleg that stood in the doorway, waving his tail in welcome.
Then Crowpaw appeared from the garden, a black whirl-wind with glaring amber eyes. “See?” he hissed at Brambleclaw. “This is your fault! You let that old mange bag bring us here.”
Brambleclaw gaped at the accusation, but Crowpaw did not wait for an answer. He spun around to face the Twoleg kit, lips drawn back in a snarl. “Let her go, or I’ll claw you to shreds!” he spat.
The little Twoleg, happily stroking Feathertail with loud squeaking noises, hadn’t noticed Crowpaw, nor understood his threat. The black apprentice was ready to spring when Squirrelpaw slipped in front of him. “Wait, mouse-brain! It’s only a kit. Do it this way.”
She padded up to the Twoleg. Raising her green eyes pleadingly, she let out a purr and rubbed herself against the Twoleg’s legs.
“Good idea!” Stormfur exclaimed, and crowded up to the Twoleg kit on the other side, purring.
The little Twoleg’s eyes gleamed. It let out a cry of delight and bent down to stroke Squirrelpaw; at the same instant Feathertail, feeling the grip on her slacken, managed to wriggle free and leap to the ground.
“Let’s go!” Brambleclaw yowled.