SUNSET. Erin Hunter

den. On the way she flicked her tail to summon Brightheart, who had helped Cinderpelt with medicine cat duties in the past.

      “Are you sure?” Brightheart asked hesitantly.

      “Of course I’m sure.” Leafpool’s voice was ragged with exhaustion and grief. “Every cat in the Clan is wounded. I’ll be glad of your skills.”

      Brightheart’s eyes gleamed, and she seemed to shake off some of her own weariness as she followed Leafpool to the den.

      “Is that Stormfur and Brook?”

      Brambleclaw jumped as a hoarse voice spoke in his ear. Squirrelflight had appeared beside him. Her dark ginger fur was matted with blood and the tip of one ear was torn.

      “Can’t you see that it is?” Brambleclaw replied, realising too late how abrupt he sounded. “Sorry—” he began.

      Squirrelflight took a pace forward so that her pelt brushed his. She touched the tip of her tail to his mouth to silence him. “Stupid furball,” she whispered.

      Brambleclaw tensed, wondering if he was imagining the affection in her green gaze. Glancing past her, he saw Ashfur glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

      Squirrelflight didn’t notice Ashfur. She limped past Brambleclaw to touch noses with the visitors. “Thank StarClan you have come,” she meowed, echoing Brambleclaw’s thoughts. “We need all our friends right now.”

      Brambleclaw felt his shoulders droop in exhaustion just thinking about how much had to be done. Injuries to treat, dens to rebuild, fresh-kill to gather . . . “We’ll speak to Firestar and then get started.”

      As they approached the Clan leader, Thornclaw staggered up to them. Blood trickled from a deep gash above one eye. “Stormfur?” he muttered, shaking his head in confusion. “No, it can’t be.” The golden brown warrior slumped to the ground, where he lay panting.

      Squirrelflight rested her tail on his shoulder, urging him to lie still until his injuries could be treated. Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook up to Firestar.

      The Clan leader’s eyes stretched wide in surprise. “Stormfur . . . and Brook! What are you doing here?”

      “There’ll be time to explain later,” Stormfur meowed. “For now, Firestar, put us to work.”

      Firestar stared around the clearing as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “We should sort out the warriors’ den so the cats who have been hurt most can get some sleep . . . but we need to get the entrance barrier back in place, too.”

      The whole camp was devastated, and few of the ThunderClan cats were in any shape to start rebuilding. Ashfur was slumped on the ground, bleeding from flank and foreleg, while Leafpool patted cobwebs onto his wounds. Cloudtail limped up to her, holding one forepaw off the ground; blood trickled from where a claw had been torn out. “Hi, Stormfur,” he mewed as he passed, as if this had been such an extraordinary night, the sight of an old friend was no longer a surprise. “Leafpool, can I have a piece of that cobweb?”

      Sandstorm was close behind him, her head bent with exhaustion and her tail dragging in the dust. She stopped dead when she spotted Leafpool, then swung around to face Firestar, her green eyes questioning.

      “Leafpool’s here?” she meowed. “What happened?”

      Firestar shook his head to silence her. “We’ll talk to her later,” he promised. “For now, she’s home, and that’s all that matters.”

      “Firestar!” A yowl came from across the clearing. “Firestar, have those crow-food eaters gone?”

      Brambleclaw turned to see the three elders, Mousefur, Goldenflower, and Longtail. In the darkness they had to pick their way carefully down the tumble of rocks that led to the ledge where Firestar had his den. They had taken shelter there while the battle raged below. It was Mousefur who had called out; she had lost some fur from one shoulder, Longtail’s tail was bleeding, and Goldenflower had a deep scratch down one side. She was guiding Longtail with her tail across his shoulders.

      “Are you all right?” Brambleclaw asked, going to meet them.

      “Fine,” Mousefur growled. “A badger tried to climb up to the Highledge, but we sent it back down the rocks faster than it intended.”

      “What if they come back?” Goldenflower sounded distraught.

      “They’d better not.” Longtail flexed his claws, and Brambleclaw saw dark tufts of badger fur caught in them. “I don’t need to see to fight badgers. I can find them by their disgusting scent.”

      “Better let Leafpool look at those scratches,” Firestar meowed.

      “Leafpool?” Mousefur’s voice was sharp as she swung around to stare at the medicine cat. “She’s back, is she? For good—or until that WindClan warrior starts sniffing around again?”

      Brambleclaw bit back a sharp retort. He knew Mousefur sounded so harsh only because she was shocked and hurt.

      “And who’s this?” Mousefur padded up to Stormfur and examined him with narrowed eyes. “Stormfur? What’s he doing here?”

      “Just paying a visit.” Stormfur sounded uncomfortable at the brown elder’s suspicious tone.

      Mousefur grunted, as if she wasn’t completely convinced that Stormfur was a friend. “You were a RiverClan warrior before you left us. Why are you here and not over there?”

      “Mousefur, don’t be so ungrateful!” Squirrelflight meowed indignantly. “We need every cat who’s prepared to help. Besides, Stormfur is half ThunderClan, remember?” Stormfur’s father was Greystripe, the ThunderClan deputy who had been captured by Twolegs before the cats left the forest.

      Mousefur bristled at Squirrelflight, but before she could reply she was interrupted by a cry from Ferncloud, racing through the broken thorns that were strewn across the entrance to the hollow. “Dustpelt, where are you?”

      Brambleclaw bounded over to her as she stopped just inside the entrance, gazing around the dark camp and yowling her mate’s name.

      “Brambleclaw, have you seen Dustpelt?” she demanded.

      “No, not yet,” he admitted. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

      “I should have stayed with him!” Ferncloud wailed. “I never should have left the camp!”

      “But Daisy needed you,” Brambleclaw reminded her. “She couldn’t have coped without a warrior to look after her, and it was much safer for you both to stay hidden outside the camp. Remember, Daisy hasn’t been in the Clan long, and she can’t fight well enough yet to defend herself and her kits.”

      Ferncloud shook her head distractedly. “Dustpelt can’t be dead,” she mewed.

      “We’ll find him,” Brambleclaw promised. Silently, he hoped StarClan had not chosen this warrior to join their ranks tonight. He began to search, padding back and forth among the scattered remains of the entrance barrier, gradually working his way back towards the centre of the camp. His breath caught in his throat when he picked up Dustpelt’s scent and almost stumbled over a heap of tabby fur lying in the shadow of the rock wall. Dustpelt’s eyes were closed, but as Brambleclaw stared at him his ears twitched and he let out a sneeze.

      “Ferncloud—over here!” Brambleclaw called.

      “Dustpelt! Dustpelt!”

      At the sound of his mate’s voice Dustpelt opened his eyes and started to struggle to his paws. Ferncloud bounded up to him, brushing her pelt against his and covering him with licks. Dustpelt let out an unsteady purr.

      Brambleclaw decided that if Dustpelt could stand up, he could wait a while before Cinderpelt or Leafpool saw him. He was heading back to the clearing, anxious to start work on the wrecked camp, when he saw that Birchpaw had followed Ferncloud into the hollow. The young apprentice had lost almost all the fur from