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What did you say that was you put on it, Squirrelpaw?”

“Burdock root.” Brambleclaw noticed that Squirrelpaw did not try to explain how she knew that burdock root was the right remedy for the infected bite. Perhaps she was wondering about it, too.

She began chewing up another of the roots, and when Tawnypelt had finished eating she applied more of it to her wound. Brambleclaw noticed that the swelling had gone down and the angry red color had faded. He breathed silent thanks to StarClan—and to Leafpaw—for his sister’s recovery.

By the time they set out the next morning, after another good meal, Tawnypelt looked almost like her old self. She was barely limping at all and her eyes were bright again.

Long before sunhigh they came to the edge of the forest. Ahead of them was open country for as far as they could see.

The ground rose and fell in a series of gentle slopes. Wind rippled over short, springy grass interspersed with creeping trefoil and wild thyme. It looked to be easy going, and the air had a fresh tang.

“Like home!” Crowpaw murmured, obviously remembering the open moorland of WindClan.

Unlike the WindClan apprentice, Brambleclaw was reluctant to leave the trees behind. The shelter of the canopy had been comforting. But the food and rest had given them all new strength, and he hoped that at last they were coming to the end of their journey.

To his surprise, Purdy said good-bye to them before they left the trees. “I don’t feel right under the open sky,” he confessed, echoing Brambleclaw’s own thoughts. “I guess I’ve had too many Upwalkers chasing me. I like to be somewhere I can hide. Besides, you don’t need me anymore. StarClan, whatever they might be, won’t be waiting for me at midnight,” he added with a glint in his eye.

“Maybe not,” meowed Brambleclaw. “Thanks for everything, anyway. We’ll miss you.” Surprisingly he realized that was true; he had come to feel something like affection for the exasperating old cat. “If you’re ever in our forest, you’ll be welcome to visit ThunderClan.”

As he finished speaking, he couldn’t help hearing Crowpaw mew under his breath to Tawnypelt, “Your brother might miss him, but I won’t!”

Brambleclaw curled his lip in warning at the WindClan cat, but Purdy hadn’t caught the apprentice’s muttered words. “I’ll wait here two or three days for you,” he promised. “In case you need help to find your way back.”

Brambleclaw glanced at Crowpaw in time to see him rolling his eyes at Feathertail, who just shrugged.

“Always supposin’ you come back of course,” Purdy went on as he padded away with his tail high. “You wouldn’t catch me so close to the sun-drown place. Shouldn’t wonder if you all end up drowned.”

“That’s right,” Squirrelpaw muttered into Brambleclaw’s ear. “Way to keep our hopes up!”

But by the end of that day, even Brambleclaw’s hopes were fading. The heat of the sun had drained his energy, and with no water on these rolling uplands his mouth felt like the floor of the sandy training hollow. His companions were no better off, plodding along with their heads down and tails drooping.

Tawnypelt was limping again; though she didn’t want any cat to examine her wound, Brambleclaw could see the swelling had returned, and wondered how much longer she could keep going. There was no more burdock root here.

Straight in front of them, the sun was sinking in a blaze of scarlet fire, tongues of flame spreading halfway across the sky.

“At least we’re heading the right way,” Feathertail murmured.

“Yes, but how far do we still have to go?” Brambleclaw had tried not to share his doubts, but his anxiety was becoming too much for him. “The sun-drown place could be days away.”

“I always said this was a mouse-brained idea,” Crowpaw remarked, though he sounded too exhausted to be aggressive.

“Well, how long do we carry on?” asked Stormfur. As all the other cats turned to look at him, he went on: “If we don’t find the place, sooner or later we have to decide… do we give up or keep trying?”

Brambleclaw knew he was right. At some point they might have to admit defeat. But what would that mean for their Clans, to ignore the will of StarClan and go home with the journey unfinished?

Then Squirrelpaw, who had been facing into the wind to drink in the scents it carried, spun around to face the others, her eyes blazing with excitement.

“Brambleclaw!” She gasped. “I can smell salt!”

Chapter 23

Brambleclaw stared at the apprentice for a moment before opening his mouth and tasting the air for himself. Squirrelpaw was right. The salt tang was unmistakable, carrying him right back to his dream, and the bitter taste of the water that had surged around him.

“It is salt!” he meowed. “We must be close. Come on!”

He raced into the wind with the sun dazzling his eyes. A swift glance behind showed that his companions were following.

Even Tawnypelt was managing to hobble faster. Brambleclaw felt new strength pouring into his limbs, as if he could go on running forever until he soared into the fiery sky like one of the white birds that wheeled and screamed above them.

Instead, he came to a skidding, terrified halt on the edge of a huge cliff. Steep sandy slopes fell away barely a mouse-length in front of his paws. Waves crashed at the bottom, and stretching out ahead of him was a heaving expanse of blue-green water. The sun was sinking into it on the horizon, its flames so bright that Brambleclaw had to narrow his eyes against them. The orange fire burned a path like blood across the water, almost reaching the foot of the cliff.

For a few moments no cat could do anything but stare.

Then Brambleclaw shook himself. “We’ve got to hurry,” he meowed. “We have to find the cave with teeth before it gets dark.”

“And then wait for midnight,” Feathertail added.

Brambleclaw glanced from side to side, but he couldn’t see anything to tell him which way to go. Choosing a direction at random, he led the way along the cliff top. From time to time they stopped and peered over the edge to look for the cave.

Brambleclaw dug his claws firmly into the tough grass; it was too easy to imagine slipping over and falling, falling, falling into the hungry waves.

Gradually the land sloped down until the water was only the height of a tree below them. The cliff top jutted out so they could not see the bottom, and the almost sheer surface was deeply scored with ancient runnels of rain. As the cliff grew less steep, the cats scrabbled a little way down and made their way along closer to the water, sometimes even within reach of a salty burst of wave. Clefts, riven by ancient streams, split the rock, sometimes so wide that the cats had to leap over them, and the grass frequently gave way to hollows where a few twisted shrubs clung to the scant soil.

“There are plenty of places to shelter for the night if we don’t find the cave,” Stormfur pointed out.

Brambleclaw was beginning to think they might need to find somewhere to stop. The sun had sunk beneath the water by now, though great orange flares still streaked the sky. The breeze was growing colder. Tawnypelt at least could lie down, he thought, while the rest of them went on searching.

His sister had fallen a little way behind. Brambleclaw was just bounding back to her, skirting the edge of one of the clefts, when his paws slipped and he found himself sliding helplessly into the hollow. He scrabbled at the loose soil but it gave way under his claws, showering him with dirt. He kept on sliding; in the shadows he could not see the bottom and he let out a yowl of alarm.

“Brambleclaw!” Stormfur leaped into the hollow beside him and tried to sink his claws into Brambleclaw’s shoulder, but Brambleclaw felt more of the soil give way and they both slid downward more rapidly than before. Soil spattered over Brambleclaw’s face, stinging his eyes and choking him. From somewhere above he heard an earsplitting yowl and Squirrelpaw launched herself practically on top of him.