“We’ll stay here to eat and rest,” Brambleclaw announced when the cats reached the edge of the trees. “We won’t find anywhere better to spend the night.”
Birchfall’s ears perked up, and Hollyleaf exchanged a hopeful glance with Lionblaze at the thought of not having to plod any farther through the snow.
“It can’t be sunset yet,” Brackenfur objected, eyeing the gray clouds that still shouldered their way across the sky.
“No, but we’re all tired and cold,” Brambleclaw replied. “And when we can’t see the sun, we can’t be sure that we’re heading the right way to the sun-drown-place.”
Brackenfur shrugged, agreeing, and all six cats headed deeper into the copse. There wasn’t as much snow under the shelter of the trees, and Hollyleaf felt her paws starting to warm up. The ground was uneven, sloping roughly down to where a small stream trickled among the roots of the trees.
“Catch your prey and then rest,” Brambleclaw ordered. Hollyleaf thought he sounded tense—perhaps he was unhappy about where their journey would take them next. Does he know there’s something dangerous up ahead?
Brackenfur vanished into the undergrowth, and Lionblaze and Birchfall headed off together.
“Would you like to hunt with me?” Hollyleaf asked Hazeltail; her Clanmate still looked shocked by her panic at the Thunderpath.
“That would be great!” Hazeltail’s ears flicked up. “Where should we start?”
“Right here’s as good as anywhere.”
Both she-cats tasted the air; Hollyleaf picked up a strong scent of squirrel, and a moment later she spotted one scuffling among the debris at the foot of a twisted thorn tree. Angling her ears, she pointed it out to Hazeltail. Her friend nodded, eyes gleaming.
Hollyleaf signaled to Hazeltail to stay where she was, then dropped into a hunter’s crouch and worked her way in a wide circle around to the other side of the tree. She had carried out this hunting move so often in ThunderClan territory that it almost felt as if she were home again. Approaching the squirrel from the other side, she crept closer and closer, sliding her paws through the rough grass. When she thought she was close enough, she let out a fearsome yowl and leaped. Panicked, the squirrel darted away, only to run straight into Hazeltail’s claws. Hazeltail dispatched it with a swift bite to the neck.
“Great catch!” Hollyleaf exclaimed.
“You set it up,” Hazeltail mewed; she looked a lot more cheerful now.
As Hollyleaf padded over to her friend, Lionblaze came bounding out from behind a bramble thicket. “Birchfall and I got a really fat rabbit.”
Birchfall appeared as he spoke, staggering as he dragged the rabbit between his forepaws. Dropping it with a gusty sigh, he stumbled into the low-growing branches of a hazel bush. A load of snow slid down and covered him; he emerged hissing with disgust, shaking snow from his pelt.
Hollyleaf couldn’t suppress a small mrrow of laughter. “Watch out, or we’ll have to call you Snowfall,” she purred.
The four young cats dragged their prey into a sheltered hollow beside the stream, where the ground was covered with a drift of dead leaves. Soon Brackenfur appeared with another squirrel, and Brambleclaw with a couple of mice. As they ate, the warmth of their bodies spread throughout the hollow; with the branches of the bushes straggling overhead, Hollyleaf thought it almost felt like a den.
Full and comfortable, she swept her tongue around her jaws. “I could sleep for a moon,” she announced drowsily.
“Fine,” meowed Brambleclaw, “but we’d better set a watch.”
“I’ll go first,” Lionblaze offered.
“Okay.” Brambleclaw stretched his jaws in an enormous yawn. “Wake me when you’re ready, and I’ll take the next one.”
As Hollyleaf settled down to sleep, the last thing she saw was her brother’s golden tabby shape, his ears pricked as he stared through the trees.
A paw prodding into her side woke Hollyleaf. Blinking in confusion, she thought at first she was in the warriors’ den. But where’s all the moss and bracken? And why can I hear running water?
Then she remembered she was on the journey to the sun-drown-place, with Brambleclaw and the others. The ThunderClan camp lay a day’s travel behind them, and everything here was new and strange.
Hazeltail was gazing down at her. “It’s your watch,” she mewed. “You’re the last.”
Hollyleaf staggered to her paws and arched her back in a stretch. Lionblaze, Birchfall, and Brackenfur were all curled up close by. “Where’s Brambleclaw?” she yawned.
“He woke up while I was on watch,” Hazeltail explained. “He said he was going to scout ahead.” She settled herself comfortably among the leaves and wrapped her tail over her nose. “I’m going to get some more sleep while I can,” she murmured.
Hollyleaf groomed the scraps of dead leaf out of her pelt, then padded the two or three paw steps to the edge of the stream. Before she bent to lap, she let her gaze travel over the trees that surrounded her; she could just make out their branches against the sky, which was beginning to fade from black to gray. Everything was quiet.
She took a long drink of the icy water; as she shook the drops from her whiskers, she heard a loud alarm call and caught a glimpse of a blackbird shooting upward. A moment later Brambleclaw came stalking through the trees, carrying a rabbit in his jaws.
“The hunting is good here,” he remarked, dropping his prey at Hollyleaf’s paws.
The rich scent of the fresh-kill made Hollyleaf’s mouth water. “Should I catch some more?” she suggested. “One rabbit won’t go far between six of us.”
“Fine,” Brambleclaw replied. “But don’t go out of the copse. I’ll wake the others. Next time, you can take first watch,” he added. “But right now we need to keep moving.”
Hollyleaf followed the stream, bounded up beside a small waterfall, and practically fell over a vole just before it could slip into its hole in the bank. Scratching earth over its limp body, she climbed the bank and stood tasting the air, her ears alert for the tiny sounds of prey. Soon she spotted a mouse nibbling seeds under a bush. Her paws lighter than air, Hollyleaf glided over the ground and broke the mouse’s neck with a swift blow of her paw. Then she went back to collect the vole, and returned to the hollow with both pieces of fresh-kill.
She would have been proud of her hunting skills once, especially when she could show Brambleclaw how fast she could bring back prey. Now she couldn’t even meet the deputy’s gaze as he congratulated her. All her training, everything she thought she knew, was nothing but dust if she wasn’t even a real Clan cat.
All six cats were awake. They ate quickly and followed Brambleclaw to the edge of the copse. “We’re not far from Midnight’s home now,” he meowed. “Be careful, and keep close to me.”
The land ahead was flat and empty, except for the Twoleg nests, with no shelter in sight. The sky was clear but for a few ragged, scudding clouds, and behind the patrol it shone milky-pale with dawn. The wind hit Hollypaw in the face as soon as she left the shelter of the trees. It felt cold and sharp, with an unfamiliar tang, like the scent of frozen blood.
“It’s going to blow my fur off!” she heard Birchfall complain.
Hollyleaf’s eyes and mouth stung, and her pelt felt sticky. She screwed up her eyes and ducked her head, keeping close to Lionblaze as they trekked on and on across the brittle grass until, beneath the whistling of the wind, Hollyleaf could make out a dull roaring, like nothing she had ever heard before.
Suddenly Lionblaze halted; unable to stop in time, Hollyleaf bumped into him. Hissing in annoyance, she staggered as Hazeltail collided with her from behind. Raising her head, Hollyleaf saw that Brambleclaw and Brackenfur were standing side by side at the head of the patrol, staring at something. Hollyleaf padded up to them, the rest of the cats falling into a line alongside.