SUNSET. Erin Hunter

personally. “OK, I’ll see you later, then.” He padded off and settled down beside the other cats circled around the two still bodies.

      Squirrelflight flicked her tail lightly over Brambleclaw’s ears. “Don’t you think you should go to Leafpool’s den and get those scratches looked at?”

      In spite of everything that had happened, the expression in Squirrelflight’s eyes made something in Brambleclaw’s heart purr like a kit. “Not yet,” he told her. “Leafpool has enough to do, and there are plenty of cats hurt worse than me. I’ll help Stormfur with the warriors’ den. Every cat is exhausted, and it’ll be dawn soon.”

      “Then I’ll do something about fresh-kill. The pile must have been scattered, but the badgers wouldn’t have had time to eat our prey. I might be able to salvage enough to keep us going until we can send out hunting patrols. If I find anything fit to eat, I’ll bring you some.”

      “Thanks.” Brambleclaw watched the ginger warrior as she padded across the clearing, then made his way to the remains of the warriors’ den. Every muscle in his body was aching, the scratch on his shoulder throbbed, and he felt almost too tired to put one paw in front of another. But his Clanmates needed him. He had to find the strength to help them.

      The thorn tree where the warriors had made their den grew close to the highest part of the cliff, not far from the tumble of rocks leading up to the Highledge. As he approached, Brambleclaw saw that although the outer branches were broken and trampled down, further in, towards the trunk, there seemed to be less damage. He hoped that there might be enough shelter left untouched, even if the warriors were a bit cramped until the tree put on fresh growth in newleaf.

      As he drew closer, sniffing cautiously at the wrecked outer branches, Stormfur appeared, hauling a tangled mass of thorns behind him.

      “Hi,” he panted, setting the thorns down to catch his breath. Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Shouldn’t you be resting? You look very battered, you know.”

      “We’re all battered,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “I can’t rest now; there’s too much to do.”

      Stormfur’s gaze travelled around the clearing. “There certainly is.”

      Brambleclaw rested his tail against Stormfur’s grey flank. “I’m glad to see you,” he meowed. “StarClan couldn’t have chosen a better time to bring you here.”

      “Well . . . the Tribe of Endless Hunting watch over me now.”

      “Some ancestors sent you to us. I don’t care whose, I’m just thankful.”

      Squirrelflight trotted up just then, carrying a couple of mice by their tails. She dropped the fresh-kill at their paws. “There you are,” she mewed to Brambleclaw. “Eat. You need your strength.” She patted the second mouse towards Stormfur. “You too, Stormfur.”

      “No thanks,” the grey warrior meowed. “Brook and I ate on the way here. I’m not hungry right now.”

      “OK, if you’re sure, I’ll take it to the elders. I’ve found plenty of fresh-kill,” she added to Brambleclaw. “It’s a bit trodden on, but it’ll do until tomorrow.” With a whisk of her tail she picked up the spare mouse and headed for the elders’ den.

      While Stormfur went back inside the den, Brambleclaw crouched down to eat the mouse. It was flattened and covered with earth, as if a badger’s huge paw had trampled it into the ground, but he was too hungry to care. He devoured it in a few famished gulps. Then he went to help Stormfur shift the damaged thorns. Blood began oozing again from the scratch on his shoulder as he struggled to drag the broken branches away from the rest; thorns pricked at his paws and scraped against his side, adding fresh scratches to his pelt.

      As he was backing out of the den, tugging a particularly stubborn branch, Squirrelflight’s scent drifted around him. He dropped the end of the branch and turned to see her standing behind him with a dripping wad of moss.

      She set it down and meowed, “I thought you might need a drink.”

      “Thanks.” As he lapped water from the moss, he thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. It seemed to soak into every part of him, giving him new energy.

      When he had drunk as much as he wanted, Squirrelflight picked up the moss and gently dabbed it against his shoulder wound. Her eyes met Brambleclaw’s; he shivered at the closeness of her.

      “Squirrelflight, I’m sorry for everything—” he began.

      She swept her tail-tip across his mouth. “I know,” she murmured.

      Brambleclaw thought he could have stood like that forever, drowning in the depths of her green gaze. But a movement beyond her distracted him, and he looked up to see Ashfur staring at him.

      The grey warrior had left the vigil for his dead Clanmates and was crossing the clearing. After a few moments, he turned away and disappeared behind the brambles that screened the medicine cat’s den.

      Brambleclaw stepped back and faced Squirrelflight. “What about Ashfur?” he meowed. He didn’t need to say any more— Squirrelflight and Ashfur had become very close in recent moons, and the grey warrior might have good reason to feel that Brambleclaw was treading on his paws.

      Squirrelflight dropped the moss. “Don’t worry about Ashfur. I’ll talk to him.” There was regret in her eyes, but no uncertainty. Briefly she touched her nose to Brambleclaw’s. “I have to fetch water for the elders now. I’ll see you later.”

      Dazed, Brambleclaw watched her go before starting to tug at the branch again. He could hardly believe how quickly everything had changed, and how little he and Squirrelflight had needed to say to each other. Their quarrels, the way they had deliberately tried to hurt each other, all that was gone in the wake of the badger attack, now that they realised how much they cared about each other. They didn’t even have to apologise; they could just look forward to all the moons ahead of them.

      As he finally yanked the branch free, Stormfur emerged from the den, pushing a tangle of moss and thorns in front of him.

      “It’s good to see you and Squirrelflight are still getting on so well,” he meowed.

      “Yes, she’s a terrific cat,” Brambleclaw mumbled. He didn’t want to tell Stormfur that the closeness he shared with Squirrelflight had melted away for a time. “Why don’t we take some of these thorns over to Sandstorm for the entrance barrier?”

      “OK.” Stormfur looked faintly amused, as if he could tell Brambleclaw was deliberately changing the subject away from Squirrelflight. “You know,” he added, “I feel just the same about Brook.”

      He picked up the end of a long branch, but before they had gone more than a couple of paces Brambleclaw spotted the young Tribe she-cat heading towards them with a huge bundle of moss in her jaws.

      “The elders are going to be fine,” she reported, after setting her burden down beside Brambleclaw. “Leafpool has put cobwebs on Mousefur’s scratches, and given them all a few poppy seeds to help them sleep. Squirrelflight has gone to fetch them some water.”

      “Thanks for your help, Brook,” Brambleclaw meowed, nodding at the ball of moss.

      “I took it out of the elders’ den because it’s full of thorns. No cat could sleep on that. Can you tell me the best place to find some more moss?”

      “Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Brambleclaw asked. “You’ve travelled a long way.”

      Brook’s ears twitched. “I’m in better shape than you. Besides, we took it easy on the journey. It’s been more than a moon since we left the Tribe.”

      “We thought we would never find you,” Stormfur meowed.

      “How did you?” Brambleclaw asked. He jumped at a flicker of movement behind him, but it was only Brackenfur, padding across to the nursery with fresh-kill in his jaws. “Did the Tribe of Endless Hunting show you the way?”