Moonrise

Chapter 13

Feathertail gazed back helplessly at the tunnel entrance as the cave-guards thrust her out of the tunnel and back into the main cave. She felt unseen claws tearing into her heart with every step she took away from her brother.

What did Stoneteller mean, that Stormfur was the promised cat who would save the Tribe from Sharptooth? True, her brother was a strong and brave warrior, more skilled at fighting than any of the other cats on this journey. But if Sharptooth was as huge and terrible as the Tribe cats say, and they were massive as it is, what could even the bravest warrior do?"

"Please," she meowed to one of the cave-guards, a huge silver tabby named Running River. "You can't keep Stormfur here. He belongs with us."

There was sympathy in the Tribe cat's eyes, but he still shook his head. "I'm sorry. We cannot go against the Tribe of Endless Hunting. They told us a silver cat would come."

"But—"

"Don't try to argue with them," Crowpaw growled into Feathertail's ear. "There's no point. If we have to fight to get Stormfur out, then that's what we'll do."

Feathertail looked at the WindClan cat's bristling fur and the fierce courage in his eyes. "We can't," she mewed sorrowfully. "There are too many of them."

"I don't see why the Tribe is so worried about Sharptooth." Crowpaw's voice was scornful. "We haven't seen a whisker of him since we arrived, so what's the big deal?"

"Be thankful you haven't seen him," Running River meowed.

Crowpaw bared his teeth, but this time he didn't speak, just turned away to press his nose to Feathertail's shoulder. He'd fight if she told him to, Feathertail knew that, but he had to see that this time fighting would do no good.

The cave-guards herded the Clan cats across the cave until they reached their sleeping hollows.

"What's going on?" Brambletuft mewed in surprise, the scratches on his face beginning to dry and crust. "Aren't you throwing us out?"

"Into the night?" The silver guard sounded indignant. "We're not cruel. It's cold out there and dangerous. You can eat and rest here, and leave in the morning."

"With Stormfur?" Tawnypelt challenged.

Running River shook his head. "No. I'm sorry," he repeated.

The cave-guards left them, except for Running River and another named Dark Shadow who remained on watch a few tail-lengths away. A couple of to-bes trotted over with fresh-kill in their jaws.

"Isn't it great?" the first of them mewed excitedly, dropping the prey he carried. "No more Sharptooth!"

"Shut up, beetle-brain," growled his friend, giving him a sharp prod in the flank. "You know Sharp Cliff told us not to talk to them."

They retreated quickly, glancing around to make sure no cat spotted them disobeying orders.

"I'm not eating that!" Crowpaw spat, glaring at the small pile of fresh-kill. "I don't want anything from the Tribe."

"Great StarClan!" Tawnypelt let out a noisy sigh. "How's that going to help, you stupid furball? You need your strength twice as much now—to save the forest and to save Stormfur."

Crowpaw muttered something inaudible, but made no other protest as he dragged a falcon out of the heap.

He had dropped it in front of Squirrelpaw, but she leaned away from it with a grimace like it was crowfood. "I'd rather starve," she growled. Her green eyes turned to the watching Tribe cats, and her lips curled into a snarl. "You hear me? I'll starve before I ever eat your cursed prey!" she yowled.