“There’s prey, too.” Mothwing swiped her tongue over her jaws.
Leafpaw wanted to ask Mothwing if she had noticed anything unusual about the island, like a strange-shaped rock or a twisted tree, anything that would suggest the presence of StarClan. Perhaps the island wasn’t meant for Gatherings, but there might be a new Moonstone there.
But once it was clear that the other medicine cats wouldn’t agree that the island could be used for Gatherings, Mothwing had turned away. She was padding up the beach with her tail drooping, tired out from her swim. Leafpaw decided she would ask her another time about the possibility of a Moonstone on the island.
The rest of the medicine cats began to make their way back to the temporary camp as well. Leafpaw followed last of all, with a regretful glance over her shoulder at the island.
The Clans needed a place to gather and a new Moonstone as much as they needed safe, sheltered camps with plenty of prey. The gathering place and the Moonstone would be the home of the fifth Clan that had been forced to leave the forest—StarClan.
Leafpaw shivered, even though reeds sheltered her from the cold breeze coming off the lake. Unless they found these places quickly, the Clans’ future in their new territory was filled with shadows of doubt.
Chapter 3
Mistyfoot led the patrol across the marshy shore at a steady trot. Brambleclaw breathed deeply, tasting the prey-scented air and basking in the warmth of the pale winter sun on his fur. His paws itched to bound ahead, but he forced himself to keep to the pace Mistyfoot had set, knowing they had a long way to go.
“This is no good,” Squirrelflight grumbled as she slipped into yet another boggy hollow. She stopped and flicked water from her hindpaw with a disgusted expression on her face.
“We’ll all end up with webbed feet if we live here.”
“It might not be so bad for RiverClan,” Mistyfoot replied.
“But there won’t be much prey on ground like this, so it wouldn’t be much use.”
“We don’t have to use all the territory around the lake,” Tawnypelt pointed out. “There’s plenty of space, so it doesn’t matter if no cat wants this bit.”
“As long as there’s something better up ahead,” Crowfeather added.
Brambleclaw paused to scan the land around them. On one side the land rose steeply to a ridge of hills. The Twoleg fence and the horses were behind them now, and beyond that the grassland sloped up until it vanished beneath a thick growth of gorse and other bushes. Ahead, the swampy ground stretched along the lakeshore. In the distance Brambleclaw could see a wooded spur of ground jutting out into the lake, and more trees right ahead.
“It looks as if we’ll be out of the marshes soon,” he meowed.
“Can’t we climb the hill, Brambleclaw?” Squirrelflight asked. “Please. I’m sick of wet feet.”
“There’ll be prey up there, too,” Tawnypelt mewed longingly. “What do you say, Brambleclaw? We need to hunt.”
“We’re supposed to be patrolling the lake,” Brambleclaw replied.
“And the territory around it,” Crowfeather reminded him.
“I suppose we could make a few forays away from the lake,” Brambleclaw meowed thoughtfully. “We won’t learn much if we stick to the shore the whole time. Let’s start by heading up to the ridge. We’ll hunt on the way, and—”
A quiet cough interrupted him, and Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle as he met Mistyfoot’s level stare. “S-sorry, Mistyfoot,” he stammered. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
Amusement glimmered in the RiverClan deputy’s eyes.
“Look, Brambleclaw, maybe it’s best if you lead. These cats are obviously used to taking orders from you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Brambleclaw felt even more embarrassed. “We discussed things, mostly, when we were on our journey.”
“He means we argued,” Tawnypelt meowed dryly. “At least, some of us argued.” She gave a hard look at Squirrelflight and Crowfeather.
“What, us?” Squirrelflight’s eyes opened wide and her tail curled up. “Never!”
Stifling a mrrow of laughter, Brambleclaw led the way up the slope to the drier ground. He thanked StarClan that Mistyfoot understood that they had fallen into a habit of organizing themselves on their journey, without the typical Clan hierarchy of leaders and deputies and senior warriors. It felt good to be traveling with his friends again, though he felt Stormfur’s absence like a thorn pricking his flank. He wondered what it would be like when the Clans separated and he lost his easy friendship with Crowfeather and Tawnypelt.
Would the empty place inside him go on growing forever?
There was prey among the bushes farther up the slope, and it did not take long for all five cats to hunt successfully and settle down to a good meal.
“Mmm…” Squirrelflight murmured, lying on her side and splaying out her paws in a luxurious stretch. “That was the tastiest mouse I’ve eaten in moons. Now I could do with a good, long sleep.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Brambleclaw prodded her with his paw. “We’ve got a long way to go, and we need to get as far around the lake as we can in daylight.”
“All right, keep your fur on.” Squirrelflight scrambled up, her green eyes teasing. “You’re such a bossy old furball. Don’t forget I’m a warrior now!” She whisked around him, flicking him with her tail.
“You don’t give me the chance to forget,” Brambleclaw retorted, though he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. How long had it been, he asked himself, since any of them had had the time or the strength to play?
He gathered the others together—Mistyfoot watched him give the order without saying anything, the expression in her blue eyes impossible to read—and they set off once more, taking a slanting route down to the lake. As he looked back toward the temporary camp, Brambleclaw saw that the spur of land he had spotted earlier was actually an island; three tiny, fuzzy shapes were standing on the shore looking out at it.
“There’s Leafpaw!” Squirrelflight meowed.
Brambleclaw didn’t ask how she could recognize her sister from so far away; he knew there was some sort of special connection between them, so that each of them always had a good idea where the other one was and how she was feeling.
A flicker of jealousy stirred within him, but he pushed it away.
They headed down from the ridge toward a point on the lakeshore farther along from the island. To Brambleclaw’s relief, the marshy places and small reed-fringed pools thinned out; instead the ground was covered with long grass that felt cool and comfortable under his pads.
“This is more like it!” muttered Crowfeather. WindClan cats were the least used to wet ground, coming from the well-drained sandy moorland above the woods where the other Clans had lived.
Sunhigh came and went as the five cats traveled along the edge of the lake. A stretch of smooth round pebbles ran down to the water, reminding Brambleclaw of the banks of the river in the forest. A little way from the shore, he spotted the spreading ripples where a fish had just risen.
“Plenty of prey for RiverClan,” he pointed out to Mistyfoot.
She nodded. “Mind you,” she meowed, “we might need to work out new ways of fishing. We’re used to standing on the bank or on stepping stones and scooping them out with our paws. What would we do if all the fish went to hide in the middle of the lake?”
There was an amused snort from Squirrelflight, but Brambleclaw silenced her with a glare. Mistyfoot hadn’t been joking—her Clan could starve next to a lake full of prey if they didn’t have the right hunting techniques. He narrowed his eyes and stared across the lake to the greenish smudge that might be the sort of trees ThunderClan had lived among before. Surely hunting mice and squirrels would be the same here as it had been in the forest?