never seen it before. Could it be a rogue? Or worseâcould BloodClan have recovered from their defeat and come back to invade the forest?
He sprang to his paws and raced up the ravine toward the strange cat. But as soon as he began to move, it vanished, and when he searched among the rocks he couldnât find it. There werenât even any pawmarks, but when he tasted the air there was a faint trace of an unfamiliar scent, almost swamped by the ThunderClan scents that came from the camp.
Slowly Firestar retraced his pawsteps and sat on the rock again. All his senses were alert now as he gazed into the shadows. But he saw nothing more of the strange gray cat.
C HAPTER 2
While he still waited to see if the cat would return, clouds massed above Firestarâs head, blotting out the stars. Huge raindrops pattered on the rocks of the ravine, quickly growing to a steady downpour. Firestar squeezed through the gorse tunnel into the camp and raced across the clearing to his den at the foot of the Highrock.
Beyond the curtain of lichen, the den was dry. An apprentice had changed his bedding, piling fresh moss and bracken into a soft heap. Firestar shook the rain from his pelt and curled up, wrapping his tail over his nose. Rain drumming on the earth outside his den soon lulled him into sleep.
The noise of the rain faded and Firestar opened his eyes, feeling cold to the bone. His cozy nest had vanished, along with the familiar scents of ThunderClan. He was surrounded by dense, clinging mist. It swirled around him, breaking up now and then to show stretches of desolate moorland. He could feel tough, springy grass beneath his paws. At first he thought he must be on WindClan territory; then he realized that he had never seen this place before.
âSpottedleaf?â he called into the mist. âAre you here? DoesStarClan have a message for me?â
But there was no sign of the beautiful tortoiseshell who had once been ThunderClanâs medicine cat. She often visited Firestar in dreams, but now he couldnât pick up even a trace of her sweet scent.
Instead, he heard the faintest sound, so distant that he couldnât make it out. He strained to listen, and an icy chill froze him from ears to tail as he heard a savage, wordless wailing, the dreadful sound of many terrified cats. He stiffened, ready to flee with them, but though the shrieks grew louder, all he could see were blurred shapes. They seemed to advance toward him through the mist, only to vanish before he could see them properly. The scent of unfamiliar cats drifted in the air.
âWho are you?â he called. âWhat do you want?â
But there was no reply, and soon the shrill wailing faded into silence.
Firestar jumped as something prodded his side. Blinking awake, he saw warm yellow sunlight angling through the entrance of his den, shining on the pale ginger fur of his mate, Sandstorm.
âAre you okay?â she asked. âYou were twitching in your sleep.â
Firestar let out a groan as he sat up. His muscles felt as stiff as if he had really been trekking over that barren moorland. âIt was just a dream,â he muttered. âIâll be fine.â
âLook, I brought you some fresh-kill.â She pushed the limp body of a vole toward him. âI just got back from a hunting patrol.â
âThanks.â The vole must have been freshly caught; its warm scent made his mouth water, and his belly felt hollow with hunger. Bending his head, he devoured the prey in a few rapid bites.
âBetter now?â Sandstorm inquired with a glint of mischief in her green eyes. âThatâll teach you to let young cats jump all over you.â
Firestar flicked her ear with the tip of his tail; word of Bramblepawâs successful assessment had obviously spread through the camp. âHey, Iâm not an elder yet, you know.â The damp shadows of his dream were melting away in the bright sunlight. He stepped out