The moon showed in the late afternoon, pale against a paler sky. It had grown fat in the days they’d been walking. A half-moon had passed, and each dawn brought colder weather. Tigerheart fluffed his fur out against it and looked at Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit. They were quiet today, walking close to Dovewing.
“Don’t forget,” she told them softy. “If you get a piece of grit in your paw, lick it out straight away or it’ll work its way into your pad and hurt.”
Lightkit’s tail drooped. “My pads already hurt.”
“They’re tougher, though,” Pouncekit encouraged. “You stuck one in my muzzle while you were sleeping last night, and it felt as hard as stone.”
Shadowkit looked thoughtful. “If our pads are tougher, will it be harder for grit to get in?”
“Yes.” Dovewing leaned down as she walked and licked him gently between the ears.
“How far is there to go?” Lightkit asked.
Dovewing turned her anxious gaze on Tigerheart.
He glanced at the landscape stretching around the Silverpath. The Twoleg dens were fewer, dotted now. Yesterday they had passed the ledge where he’d been pushed into the belly of the Thundersnake. He tried to remember how many days he’d walked to get here. “We just need to keep going,” he meowed. “If we make good time, we’ll be there for full moon.”
“Full moon!” Pouncekit flicked her tail crossly. “Yesterday you said we’d be there before full moon.”
Traveling with kits was slower than Tigerheart had imagined. “We might make it home earlier if we don’t dawdle,” he told her.
Cinnamon hurried to catch up to the kits. “Why don’t we play a game to make the time pass?”
Lightkit looked at her, brightening. “What game?”
“Let’s make up names for the trees and plants and creatures we see, and Tigerheart and Dovewing can tell us if we’re right.” Cinnamon looked hopefully at Tigerheart.
He blinked at her gratefully. He’d been surprised at how hard she and Ant worked to distract the kits. Yesterday, Ant had persuaded Pouncekit, Lightkit, and Shadowkit to race him as they traveled; he had pointed out trees along the way and challenged them to reach them before he did. The guardian cats had also turned out to be useful hunters. Tigerheart had wondered how they’d manage without scrapcans to scavenge from, but they’d adapted easily to chasing prey, and their pelts grew glossier, their eyes brighter, and their muscles tighter each day.
Blaze was shaping up to be the best hunter. Two days ago he’d caught his first rabbit. He’d outwitted it by cutting across its path, and his killing bite was so accurate that it had hardly mattered that the rabbit was almost as big as him. Hunting was when the young tom seemed happiest. During the day, as they walked, he kept quiet and stayed close to Spire, shadowing the healer protectively. Spire hardly spoke, but watched the passing fields and hills as though looking for something. Tigerheart had the feeling that he was making this journey for a reason he had left unspoken. He was uneasy that the strange tom never shared the dreams and visions that seemed so often to cloud his gaze.
“Thorn-thistle!”
Shadowkit’s mew jerked Tigerheart back to the present. He blinked at the kit, wondering why he was staring at him so eagerly.
Pouncekit bounced to Tigerheart’s side. “He’s guessing a plant name,” she explained. She pointed her muzzle to a large bush dotted with red hips.
“That’s sweetbriar,” Tigerheart told them. “But thorn-thistle was a good guess.”
Shadowkit puffed his chest out proudly. Lightkit wandered across the track and climbed the bank to where the shrub sprouted from among the browning bracken. She sniffed one of the red buds that weighted down a stem. “Can we eat these?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.” Dovewing hurried to her side. “Jayfeather might use them to make medicine, though.”
“Who’s Jayfeather?” Lightkit blinked at her.
Pouncekit lifted her tail.” Don’t you remember? Dovewing told us about him. He’s the blind healer cat.”
Spire’s gaze sharpened suddenly. “Healers!” he meowed. “I remember now. You said each Clan has healers like me.”
“Kind of,” Tigerheart told him. “Except medicine cats have been trained since they were ’paws.”
“Will we be ’paws when we get to the lake?” Pouncekit asked eagerly.
“Not straight away,” Tigerheart told her. “You have to be six moons old before you can become an apprentice.”
“But you said we’ve walked farther than any kits have ever walked.” Lightkit padded back down to the track and fell in beside her sister. “Doesn’t that mean we can start training sooner?”
Dovewing joined her. “No.” As she looked sternly at the kits, Spire suddenly stopped.
Tigerheart glanced back at the skinny tom. “Are you tired? We can stop soon and hunt. But we need to keep going a while longer.”
Spire’s eyes had misted once more. He was staring into the far distance, beyond the trees that lined the track to the softly rolling hills beyond.
“We need to leave the track.” His meow suddenly rose into a panicked wail. “Here! We must leave it here. This is where we must find the orange sun.”
Tigerheart stared at him warily. The crazy cat was staring away from the sun, which was dipping toward the horizon, a red fiery ball. There was no time for this. They needed to head home. But he didn’t want to argue with the healer. “It will be safer if we keep following the track.”
Spire bounded up the bank. “This way,” he mewed urgently. “The orange sun is this way. We have to find it. They need us.”
Unease prickled through Tigerheart’s pelt. What if this vision is important?
Cinnamon hurried to the healer’s side. “Come on, Spire. Let’s stay on the track. We don’t want to get lost.”
Blaze’s pelt lifted along his spine. “You have to believe him.” He looked pleadingly at the others. “When he’s like this, you have to believe him.”
“But he seems confused to me,” Dovewing meowed. “The orange sun’s over there.” She pointed to the sunset with her muzzle. “Who could possibly need us out here? We don’t know any cat.”
“And we’re needed at home.” There wasn’t time to chase more visions. And Cinnamon was right. What if they left the track and couldn’t find their way back? How would they ever find their way home?
Blaze squared his shoulders. “We have to listen to him.”
Ant padded forward. “We’re all tired and hungry,” he meowed. “Why don’t we find a place to spend the night? We can hunt and fill our bellies.” He glanced at Tigerheart, lowering his voice. “Spire’s always had crazy visions. In the morning he’ll have forgotten about it.”
Tigerheart’s head felt like it was filled with rushing water. He didn’t believe that Spire was crazy, but he was beginning to wonder if, without proper medicine-cat training, the skinny black tom really understood his own visions.
Spire might not be crazy . . . but what if he’s wrong?
Ant was still staring at him. Tigerheart dipped his head to the small brown-and-black tom. “We should rest.” As the sun set, the air chilled. The kits would be cold, although he knew they wouldn’t complain. He could taste ice in the wind. The ground would freeze tonight, and they would wake to a heavy frost. They needed food and a warm nest. And maybe it would give Spire enough time to think about his latest vision—figure out what it meant before they decided to go off in search of an orange sun.
He followed Spire up the bank, overtaking him as they reached the top. A meadow stretched toward the hills. Hedgerows bounded it. He saw a patch where rowan trees sheltered bushes. “We’ll make camp over there.” He nodded toward the rowans as the others climbed the bank.
Spire’s eyes glittered with alarm. “What about the orange sun?”
“We can worry about that in the morning,” Tigerheart told him. “The sun will rise over there.” He nodded toward the hills where Spire had wanted to go. “We can head toward it then.”
Spire shifted his paws distractedly. “Not the dawn sun!” he snapped. “The orange sun!”
Tigerheart curled his tail around Spire. “We’ll find it tomorrow,” he soothed, tugging the skinny tom toward the meadow.
When they reached it, Spire settled in the roots of a rowan. Blaze walked up to Tigerheart, frowning. “He won’t relax until he finds it,” he warned.
“A belly full of food and a warm nest will calm him down,” Tigerheart promised, staring at Spire. His eyes were closed, yet he still seemed to be looking at something.
It’s just because he’s never had any cat to help him, Tigerheart told himself. Without a mentor, of course he can’t figure out what his visions mean. We are going the right way.
We have to be. . . .
As Tigerheart drifted wearily toward sleep, the kits snuggled tighter around him. He could hear Dovewing’s tail flicking uneasily against the side of their makeshift nest. They’d hunted and swept leaves into piles to sleep on. Now the kits were asleep. Cinnamon and Ant were snoring gently, and Spire had stopped murmuring to himself at last.
Dovewing’s tail carried on flicking.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“How do you know this isn’t another vision about ShadowClan?”
He lifted his head and blinked at Dovewing. Her green eyes were shining in the moonlight. “There were no shadows in his vision,” he mewed.
“So you think only some of his visions are true?” Dovewing looked worried.
“I think StarClan used him to send me a message,” Tigerheart told her. “But you’ve heard him. Even he doesn’t always know which parts of his visions are useful.”
Dovewing’s gaze hardened.
“Then how do you know we’re right to be heading back to the lake? What if Spire doesn’t have a connection to StarClan after all?”
“He does!” Tigerheart belly knotted with frustration. “Or he did.”
Dovewing stood up, her tail straight and her eyes blazing with worry. “Tigerheart, what if we’re risking our kits’ lives for no reason—”
“Tigerheart!” Blaze’s anxious whisper sounded beside his ear. He turned to see the young tom staring over the side of the nest. “He’s gone!”
“Who?”
“Spire!” Blaze sounded frantic. “Spire’s gone! I left the camp to make dirt, and when I got back, his nest was empty. I think he’s gone to find the orange sun.”
“But it’s nighttime.” Tigerheart slid from among the kits. “How does he think he’ll find the sun?”
Blaze blinked at him, starlight shimmering on his pelt. “I told you we should have listened to him.”
“Did you know he’d go running off?” Tigerheart fluffed out his fur against the icy chill.
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left him alone.” Blaze stared past the rowans and across the meadow. “I followed his scent. He headed that way.”
Tigerheart flexed his claws. He ached from the day’s walk. He didn’t want to spend the night hunting for a lost cat.
“We have to find him before he freezes.” Blaze’s breath billowed around his muzzle.
“Okay.” Tigerheart wasn’t going to let the skinny tom come to harm. He blinked at Dovewing. “Stay here with the kits. We’re going to look for Spire.”
Dovewing got to her paws, her fur rippling indignantly. “I’m coming too,” she growled. “You’re not the only warrior in camp.”
“What about the kits?”
“Cinnamon and Ant can take care of them.” Dovewing leaned into the nest and plucked Shadowkit by his scruff.
The dark gray kit murmured sleepily as she carried him to Ant and Cinnamon’s nest. “What’s happening?”
Dovewing placed him between the guardian cats. “You and your littermates are spending the night in Cinnamon’s nest,” she told him briskly.
Ant opened his eyes.
“Can you and Cinnamon take care of the kits?” Dovewing asked him. “Spire’s wandered off and we have to go and find him.”
Ant blinked at her sleepily. “Okay.”
Cinnamon lifted her head. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got the kits tonight.” Ant yawned. “Spire’s wandered off.”
Cinnamon sat up, her eyes sparkling with worry.
Dovewing fetched Pouncekit and dropped her in the nest. “It’s okay,” she reassured Cinnamon. “We’ll find him and bring him back.”
Pouncekit looked around blearily. “What’s happening?”
Cinnamon wrapped her tail around the kit while Dovewing fetched Lightkit. “Don’t worry, little ones. Tigerheart and Dovewing are going to look for Spire. Go back to sleep.” She drew Lightkit close to her belly as Dovewing placed her beside Pouncekit.
“We’ll be back soon.” Dovewing blinked at the kits, who stared back like anxious owls. “Be good and go to sleep. And try not to fidget.”
“We’ll take care of them,” Cinnamon promised.
Ant stared across the meadow. “Spire can’t have gone far, and on a cold night like this, his scent should be easy to follow.”
“We’ll bring him back.” Dovewing turned her tail and joined Tigerheart.
Tigerheart could smell Blaze’s fear-scent. The young tom was pacing impatiently around him. “Come on.” He headed away from camp. “Show me where you picked up Spire’s scent.”
Blaze hurried ahead, sniffing at the ground. “It’s fresh, but he was running. Look how he’s scuffed the grass.”
Tigerheart saw the paw marks. Spire’s claws had kicked lumps from the frozen ground. He must have been moving fast. “He won’t be able to keep that pace up for long.” He broke into a trot. He was annoyed with the skinny tom. Spire had made him and Dovewing argue. Now he’d gotten him out of his warm nest in the middle of the night. It would do the dumb cat good to freeze a little.
Dovewing padded beside him as they crossed the moon-drenched meadow. Blaze kept a little way ahead, trying to push the pace but slowing each time he looked back and saw Tigerheart lagging. Tigerheart felt a prick of guilt as Blaze reached the foot of the hill. The young cat was worried. It wasn’t fair to let him suffer just because Spire was being difficult.
He picked up his pace, Dovewing trailing him as he caught up to Blaze. The slope grew quickly steeper. Heather sprouted among rocks as the grass grew rougher beneath his paws. Soon they were following a gritty trail between wind-hewn stones. “Can you still smell his scent?” he asked Blaze.
“Can’t you?” Blaze flashed him a look.
Tigerheart didn’t want to admit that the guardian cats smelled so much like the Twoleg tang that had infused their den, he’d never really been able to tell their scents apart. Only now that wind and rain had washed the city smell from them was he beginning to recognize Cinnamon’s and Ant’s smells when they were out of sight. He wondered, with a spark of alarm, if he’d have the same problem with his Clanmates when he got home. Would the pungent smell of pinesap overwhelm him now?
“Look!” Dovewing nudged his flank as she caught up to him. She was staring along the trail. The stones opened onto a rocky rise. Above it, an owl circled. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left the kits.” The owl was huge, its wingspan as long as a branch.
“They’re hidden beneath the rowans, and Cinnamon and Ant are with them,” Tigerheart told her, anxiety pricking in his pelt. “Besides, the owl’s here, not back there.”
Blaze fell in beside them, his gaze following theirs. “Why is it circling? Do you think it’s spotted prey?” He glanced at Tigerheart with round, frightened eyes, and Tigerheart guessed what he was thinking. A small, skinny tom like Spire would be easy for an owl that big to carry off.
“Let’s hurry.” He avoided Blaze’s question and scrambled to the top of the slope. He crossed the summit quickly and gazed into the valley below. A Thunderpath ran along the bottom. It was wide where the ground flattened between the hills. A lone monster was heading into the distance, its blazing eyes the only Twoleg light in the landscape.
He scanned the grass on the slope below, searching for movement. “Can you see him?” he asked Blaze.
“No.” Blaze’s fur ruffled in the breeze.
“What’s that?” Dovewing’s mew made Tigerheart stiffen. Had she spotted the tom on the hillside? He followed her gaze to a shape looming beside the Thunderpath. It looked small from up here, but he guessed that it was as big as the side of a Twoleg nest—a tall, flat, solitary wall, facing the Thunderpath. Dovewing narrowed her eyes. “Why did Twolegs build a wall there? Is it a signal for the monsters?”
Blaze was staring at it. “It has shapes on it, like the shapes Spire used to draw in dirt sometimes to show me what his visions looked like.”
Tigerheart strained to see. The flat surface of the wall was shaded with color that he couldn’t make out in the moonlight.
Blaze hurried suddenly forward. “Spire’s scent!”
Tigerheart followed the young tom as he raced down the hill. The coarse grass felt slippery beneath his paws as Blaze led him zigzagging between rocks and heather. He was out of breath by the time they reached the side of the Thunderpath.
Dovewing pulled up behind him, panting. She scanned the valley. “Did he follow the Thunderpath or cross it?”
Blaze ducked and sniffed the grass, following a trail over the grass. He stopped and lifted his tail. “He crossed here.” The young tom stood opposite the Twoleg wall, which loomed on the other side.
Tigerheart blinked at the colors that stained the wall, frowning as he tried to make out a picture. In the moonlight, the stains looked gray, but he realized, with a jolt, that the shapes were familiar. The great Twoleg wall had been stained to look like a city skyline, and above the jagged roofs Tigerheart saw the shape of a big, round sun. He stared at it, surprise bristling through his fur. Could this be the orange sun Spire had meant?
Blaze was already crossing the deserted Thunderpath. The young tom stopped beneath the wall and gazed up at it. “This must be his vision!” He spun around, searching. “Spire’s scent is here.”
Dovewing blinked at Tigerheart. “I guess he’s been right all along.” Was that relief in her gaze?
“Come on.” Tigerheart led the way across the Thunderpath. It sparkled where frost was beginning to creep over the smooth stone. He stopped below the stained wall. Blaze was sniffing the bottom eagerly.
Tigerheart pricked his ears. He could hear cats talking nearby. He stiffened, alarm sparking in his belly. “There are cats behind the wall,” he hissed to Blaze.
Blaze lifted his muzzle, pausing as he listened. “It’s Spire,” he mewed. “He’s talking to some cat.”
“Who would be out here?” Dovewing stared at the young tom.
As she spoke, Tigerheart’s pelt prickled. An unexpected jab of longing made him stiffen as scents that he hadn’t smelled in moons touched his nose. His heart quickened as he followed Blaze around the wall. On the moonlit grass behind, he saw Spire with two cats. Blaze stopped and stared at his friend. The healer seemed to be trying to beckon the strange cats away from a dip in the grass where they’d made a nest.
“You don’t have to stay here,” Spire called. “I can take you to my friends.”
Tigerheart looked past Spire and saw a familiar pelt. “Rippletail?” The tom’s white pelt looked nearly blue in the moonlight.
Rippletail jerked his gaze toward Tigerheart, his eyes widening with shock. “Tigerheart?”
“You’re alive!” Tigerheart hadn’t seen Rippletail since the battle with Darktail. Rippletail had stayed in ShadowClan when Darktail’s rogues had taken over. After the battle, he’d disappeared along with several other members of ShadowClan. Tigerheart had assumed they must be dead. What else would have kept a warrior from his Clan? What else? Tigerheart stiffened, fear hollowing his belly.
Dovewing stopped beside Tigerheart, her pelt bristling. “Is that Rippletail?” She paused as her gaze flicked to a second figure in the shadowy dip behind Rippletail—his sister, Berryheart.
Tigerheart couldn’t believe his eyes. He padded closer until he could make out the she-cat’s black-and-white pelt. His former Clanmate was clearly thriving, because she’d grown fat since leaving ShadowClan. He froze. She isn’t fat—she’s expecting kits! Which meant maybe Sparrowtail was with them too!
He narrowed his eyes as a thought crept into his mind. Why hadn’t these cats returned to their Clan? He fixed Rippletail with an icy stare. “Are you . . . rogues now?”