DAWN. Erin Hunter

through the trees. As she raced towards the sandy clearing where she had trained with the other apprentices, Squirrelpaw wondered grimly how the Clan could have survived with the Twolegs and monsters so close. The sun was high in the sky, and the training hollow was crisscrossed with shafts of cold sunlight. She dug her paws into the soft ground and pushed on ahead of Brambleclaw and Stormfur, her chest tightening with fear as she tore along the trail that led to the gorse tunnel. Without hesitating, she ducked her head and raced into the thorns.

      “Firestar!” she yowled as she exploded into the clearing.

      It was completely empty. The whole camp was silent. No cat stirred, and the scent of the Clan was stale.

      On trembling legs, Squirrelpaw padded to her father’s den underneath the tall grey rock where he normally stood to address the Clan. For one wild moment, she thought Firestar might still be there in spite of the danger that roared at the brink of the ravine. But his mossy bedding was damp and musty, unused for several days. Squirrelpaw slipped out of the cleft in the rock and found her way into the nursery. Kits and elders were always the last to leave the camp, and there was nowhere safer than in the heart of the bramble thicket that had protected many generations of ThunderClan cats.

      There was nothing inside except the stench of a fox, almost hiding the faint scent of helpless kits and their mothers. Blind panic rose in her chest. There was a rustle of branches, and Brambleclaw appeared at her side.

      “F-fox!” she stammered.

      “It’s OK,” Brambleclaw reassured her. “The scent is stale. The fox must have been trying his luck, hoping the Clan had left unguarded kits behind. There’s no sign of bl—of a fight,” he amended hastily.

      “But where has the Clan gone?” Squirrelpaw wailed. She knew Brambleclaw had been about to say blood. It seemed impossible that the whole Clan could have vanished without some blood being spilled. Oh, StarClan, what happened here?

      Brambleclaw’s eyes glittered with fear. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we’ll find them.”

      Stormfur joined them. “Are we too late?” he whispered hoarsely.

      “We should have come home quicker,” Squirrelpaw protested.

      Stormfur shook his broad grey head as he looked around the abandoned nursery. “We should never have left in the first place,” he growled. “We should have stayed and helped our Clans!”

      “We had to go!” Brambleclaw hissed, unsheathing his claws and sinking them into the moss. “It was StarClan’s will.”

      “But where have our Clanmates gone?” Squirrelpaw cried. She pushed past the other cats back into the clearing. She heard them follow more slowly, Stormfur cursing under his breath as a bramble scraped against his flank.

      The RiverClan warrior padded over to stand beside Squirrelpaw. He looked around the camp for a long moment, ignoring the scratch on his hind leg. “There’s no blood anywhere, no trace of a struggle,” he murmured.

      Squirrelpaw followed his gaze and realised Stormfur was right. Even out here, the camp showed no signs that the Clan had been attacked. Surely that meant the Clan had been unharmed when they left? “They must have moved somewhere safer,” she meowed hopefully.

      Brambleclaw nodded.

      “We should keep looking for scents,” Stormfur suggested. “They might give us a clue to where the Clan has gone.”

      “I’ll check Cinderpelt’s den,” Squirrelpaw offered. She charged down the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cat’s clearing, but the hollow amid the sheltering ferns was as empty and silent as the rest of the camp.

      She skirted the edge, poking her nose into the bracken. Cinderpelt sometimes flattened out small nests here for sick cats, but there were no fresh scents now. She turned away and padded toward the split rock that formed one end of the clearing. This was where Cinderpelt made her own nest and kept her supplies of herbs safe and dry.

      In the shadows, the pungent smell of roots and herbs was as strong as ever, but there was only the faintest trace of Cinderpelt’s scent, as stale as Firestar’s had been in his den.

      Disappointed, Squirrelpaw backed out of the cleft and stared desperately around the clearing. A sudden, terrible realisation clutched at her belly: Cinderpelt’s scent was faint, but her sister’s scent was even fainter. Wherever ThunderClan had gone, Leafpaw had left before them.

      A screeching warrior’s cry sounded from above, jerking her out of her thoughts. Squirrelpaw glimpsed a flurry of dark fur; then her legs buckled as a cat landed heavily on her back. Fury made her hair stand on end, and her paws scrabbled as she thrashed wildly. The journey to sun-drown-place had made her strong and lean, and she heard the cat gasp with the effort of clinging onto her pelt. Instinctively, Squirrelpaw rolled onto her side. She felt claws rake her flank as her assailant thudded to the ground.

      Hissing with anger, Squirrelpaw spun to face her attacker, her hackles raised and her lips drawn back.

      The other cat had scrambled up as well and was glaring at her with her tail fluffed up. “Trying to steal my supplies, were you?” she spat.

      “Cinderpelt!” Squirrelpaw gasped.

      The medicine cat’s eyes stretched wide with surprise. “Squirrelpaw! Y-you’ve come home!” she stammered. She rushed forward, pushing her muzzle along Squirrelpaw’s cheek. “Where have you been? Is Brambleclaw with you?”

      “Where is everyone?” Squirrelpaw demanded, too worried about her Clanmates to answer Cinderpelt’s flurry of questions.

      The sound of paws pounding along the fern tunnel interrupted her, and Brambleclaw and Stormfur burst into the clearing.

      “We heard fighting,” panted Brambleclaw. He blinked in surprise as he spotted Cinderpelt. “Are you both OK?”

      “Brambleclaw! I’m so pleased to see you!” Cinderpelt looked at Stormfur and confusion clouded her gaze for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

      “He’s with us,” Brambleclaw explained shortly. “Who attacked you?” He stared around, his hackles raised. “Did you chase them off?”

      “Actually, it was me,” Cinderpelt confessed. “I didn’t recognise Squirrelpaw from the top of the rock. I thought she was trying to steal my herbs. I’d come back to fetch some supplies—”

      “Come back?” Brambleclaw echoed. “Where is everyone?”

      “We had to leave,” Cinderpelt explained, her eyes glistening with distress. “The monsters were getting nearer and nearer. Firestar ordered us to abandon the camp.”

      “When?” Brambleclaw’s eyes were round with astonishment.

      “Two moonrises ago.”

      “Where did you go?” demanded Squirrelpaw.

      “Sunningrocks.” Cinderpelt looked distractedly around the clearing. “I only came back to get some supplies. Now that I don’t have Leafpaw to help me collect fresh herbs, I’m always running low. . . .”

      Squirrelpaw’s heart lurched. “What happened to her?”

      Cinderpelt glanced at her, and the pity in her eyes made Squirrelpaw want to turn tail and flee from what she was about to hear. “The Twolegs have been setting traps for us,” she said. “Leafpaw was caught in one the day before we abandoned the camp. Sorreltail saw everything but was powerless to help.”

      Squirrelpaw’s legs seemed to lose their strength altogether, and she swayed. With a sickening flash of horror, she understood all her dreams of fear and darkness and being trapped in a small space.

      “Where did the Twolegs take her?” Brambleclaw’s voice sounded as if he were a long way away. Squirrelpaw shuddered, trying to fight the shock that dragged at her body like rushing water.

      “We don’t