Enjoy this early sneak peak at the first three chapters of Hidden Moon!

ALLEGIANCES

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER     Squirrelstar—dark ginger she-cat with green eyes and one white paw

DEPUTY     Ivypool—silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

MEDICINE CATS     Jayfeather—gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

Alderheart—dark ginger tom with amber eyes

WARRIORS   (toms and she-cats without kits)

Whitewing—white she-cat with green eyes
Birchfall—light brown tabby tom
Mousewhisker—gray-and-white tom
Bayshine—golden tabby tom
Bristleclaw—orange-and-white tabby she-cat
Sunbeam—brown-and-white tabby she-cat

Apprentice, Moonpaw (she-cat whose face is split between black and orange tabby)

Poppyfrost—pale tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat
Lilyheart—small, dark tabby she-cat with white patches and blue eyes
Nightheart—black tom
Wafflepelt—gray-and-brown tom
Bumblestripe—very pale gray tom with black stripes
Cherryfall—ginger she-cat
Molewhisker—brown-and-cream tom
Stemtail—orange tabby tom
Cinderheart—gray tabby she-cat
Finchlight—tortoiseshell she-cat
Graywhisker—white tom with gray spots
Blossomfall—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with petal-shaped white patches
Eaglewing—ginger she-cat
Dewnose—gray-and-white tom
Stormcloud—gray tabby tom
Hollytuft—black she-cat
Fernsong—yellow tabby tom
Honeyfur—white she-cat with yellow splotches
Sparkpelt—orange tabby she-cat
Thriftear—dark gray she-cat
Sorrelstripe—dark brown she-cat
Twigbranch—gray she-cat with green eyes
Finleap—brown tom

Apprentice, Goldenpaw (golden tabby tom)

Shellfur—tortoiseshell tom
Fernstripe—gray tabby she-cat
Plumstone—black-and-ginger she-cat
Flipclaw—brown tabby tom

Apprentice, Shinepaw (black she-cat)

Leafshade—tortoiseshell she-cat
Lionblaze—golden tabby tom with amber eyes
Spotfur—spotted tabby she-cat

QUEENS   (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

Daisy—cream long-furred cat from the horseplace
Myrtlebloom—pale brown she-cat (mother of Oakkit, a pale brown tabby she-kit with white spots; Sunkit, an orange tabby tom; and Hazelkit, a tortoiseshell she-kit with white spots)

ELDERS   (former warriors and queens, now retired)

Brambleclaw—dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Thornclaw—golden-brown tabby tom
Cloudtail—long-haired white tom with blue eyes
Brightheart—white she-cat with ginger patches
Brackenfur—golden-brown tabby tom

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER     Tigerstar—dark brown tabby tom

DEPUTY     Cloverfoot—gray tabby she-cat

MEDICINE CATS     Puddleshine—brown tom with white splotches

Shadowsight—gray tabby tom

WARRIORS

Tawnypelt—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
Stonewing—white tom
Scorchfur—dark gray tom with slashed ears
Flaxfoot—brown tabby tom
Dovewing—pale gray she-cat with green eyes
Cinnamontail—brown tabby she-cat with white paws
Snowbird—pure white she-cat with green eyes
Yarrowleaf—ginger she-cat with yellow eyes
Grassheart—pale brown tabby she-cat
Whorlpelt—gray-and-white tom
Hopwhisker—calico she-cat
Blazefire—white-and-ginger tom
Flowerstem—silver she-cat
Snaketooth—honey-colored tabby she-cat

Apprentice, Redpaw (reddish-brown tom)

Slatefur—sleek gray tom
Pouncestep—gray tabby she-cat
Gullswoop—white she-cat
Spireclaw—black-and-white tom
Fringewhisker—white she-cat with brown splotches

Apprentice, Sprucepaw (silver tabby and white she-cat)

Birchfeather—light brown tom
Bloompetal—black she-cat
Firbark—brown tabby tom
Whisperbreeze—gray tom
Streamripple—gray tabby she-cat
Hollowspring—black tom
Sparrowtail—large brown tabby tom

QUEENS

Lightleap—brown tabby she-cat (mother to Quickkit, a ginger tabby tom; Beehckit, a pale brown tom; and Poolkit, a white she-cat)

ELDERS

Oakfur—small brown tom

SKYCLAN

LEADER     Leafstar—brown-and-cream tabby she-cat with amber eyes

DEPUTY     Hawkwing—dark gray tom with yellow eyes

MEDICINE CATS     Frecklewish—mottled light brown tabby she-cat with spotted legs

Fidgetflake—black-and-white tom

MEDIATOR     Tree—yellow tom with amber eyes

WARRIORS

Macgyver—black-and-white tom
Dewspring—sturdy gray tom
Rootspring—yellow tom
Needleclaw—black-and-white she-cat
Plumwillow—dark gray she-cat
Sagenose—pale gray tom
Harrybrook—gray tom
Cloudmist—white she-cat with yellow eyes
Turtlecrawl—tortoiseshell she-cat
Rabbitleap—brown tom
Reedclaw—small pale tabby she-cat
Beetleshine—white-and-black tabby tom
Mintfur—gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes
Nettlesplash—pale brown tom
Tinycloud—small white she-cat
Palesky—black-and-white she-cat
Violetshine—black-and-white she-cat with yellow eyes
Bellaleaf—pale orange she-cat with green eyes
Quailfeather—white tom with crow-black ears
Pigeonfoot—gray-and-white she-cat
Gravelnose—tan tom

Apprentice, Robinpaw (a reddish-brown she-cat)

Sunnypelt—ginger she-cat
Beesting—white-and-tabby she-cat
Nectarsong—brown she-cat

Apprentice, Starlingpaw (black-and-white tom)

Blossomheart—ginger-and-white she-cat
Duskshine—white tom with brown paws and ears
Ridgeglow—reddish she-cat with a white nose

QUEENS

Wrenflight—golden tabby she-cat

ELDERS

Fallowfern—pale brown she-cat who has lost her hearing
Sparrowpelt—dark brown tabby tom
Cherrytail—fluffy tortoiseshell and white she-cat

WINDCLAN

LEADER     Harestar—brown-and-white tom

DEPUTY     Crowfeather—dark gray tom

MEDICINE CATS     Kestrelflight—mottled gray tom with white splotches like kestrel feathers

Whistlebreeze—gray tabby she-cat

WARRIORS

Brindlewing—mottled brown she-cat
Featherpelt—gray tabby she-cat
Leaftail—dark tabby tom with amber eyes
Woodsong—brown she-cat
Emberfoot—gray tom with two dark paws
Breezepelt—black tom with amber eyes
Heathertail—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes
Leafcurl—white she-kit with gray spots
Crouchfoot—ginger tom
Grassfur—auburn she-cat
Branchleap—white tom
Songleap—tortoiseshell she-cat

Apprentice, Silkypaw (long-haired gray tom)

Sedgewhisker—light brown tabby she-cat
Flutterfoot—brown-and-white tom
Slightfoot—black tom with white flash on his chest
Oatclaw—pale brown tabby tom
Hootwhisker—dark gray tom

Apprentice, Fluffpaw (fluffy pale brown tom)

Larkwing—pale brown tabby she-cat
Brookripple—black-and-white tom
Stripeheart—gray tabby tom

QUEENS

Appleshine—yellow tabby she-cat (mother to Rustlekit, a white tom with a brown tail, and Stretchkit, a brown tabby she-cat with white face markings)

ELDERS

Whiskernose—light brown tom
Nightcloud—black she-cat

RIVERCLAN

LEADER     Icestar—white she-cat with blue eyes

DEPUTY     Owlnose—brown tabby tom

MEDICINE CATS     Mothwing—dappled golden she-cat

Frostdawn—light gray she-cat with blue eyes

WARRIORS

Duskfur—brown tabby she-cat
Minnowtail—dark gray-and-white she-cat
Havenpelt—black-and-white she-cat
Troutshine—brown-and-white spotted tom
Mallownose—light brown tabby tom
Rapidsplash—gray-and-white she-cat
Podlight—gray-and-white tom
Shimmerpelt—silver she-cat
Lizardtail—light brown tom
Sneezecloud—gray-and-white tom
Brackenpelt—tortoiseshell she-cat
Mistpool—tortoiseshell-and-white tabby she-cat
Gorseclaw—white tom with gray ears
Nightsky—dark gray she-cat with blue eyes
Graysky—silver tabby tom

QUEENS

Floatshimmer—tawny she-cat (mother to Heronkit, a silver she-kit, and Eelkit, a black tom)

ELDERS

Mosspelt—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

Round-eyed with confusion, Alderkit and Sparkkit exchanged glances.

“We’re not even apprentices yet!” Sparkkit meowed. “You’re so silly!”

Alderkit spun in a circle. “One of us might be a medicine cat?” he asked. “Would we have to be as grumpy as Jayfeather?”

Bramblestar blinked. Why did I say that? He pushed the question away, focusing instead on enjoying the warm sun on his pelt and the cheerful voices of his kits. It was a good day, one of many since Alderkit and Sparkkit had entered his life.

Bramblestar stiffened, a jolt of fear running through him. A strange thought invaded his mind: Things were so much easier then. Life was simpler. Why did this sweet moment suddenly feel like a distant memory? Where was he now? His heart beating faster, he looked around, and he spotted his mate, Squirrelflight, and her sister, ThunderClan’s medicine cat Leafpool, curled together at the entrance of the nursery.

Seeing them, Bramblestar breathed more easily. If Squirrelflight was there, looking content, nothing terrible could be happening.

But . . . Squirrelflight? The name didn’t feel right. It seemed like a name he hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Bramblestar?” Alderkit asked cautiously, putting his small paw on top of Bramblestar’s large one. But Bramblestar, dizzy with sudden panic, couldn’t answer. Did something happen to Squirrelflight? What have I forgotten?

The clearing suddenly shifted and faded, everything thinning and vanishing like clearing smoke. The kits were gone. Squirrelflight was gone.

“No! No!” Bramblestar’s meow was a broken gasp. “Come back!”

The world returned, but ThunderClan’s camp was gone. Instead, a lush green meadow spread around him, and Bramblestar opened his mouth to taste the fresh scents of early greenleaf, mixed with a tantalizing hint of prey. The sky was clear, and sunlight warmed his back. A light breeze ruffled his fur.

I know this place.

As he began to calm, Bramblestar realized he was not alone. Leafpool sat a tail-length away, regarding him quietly. Dim stars shone in her pale tabby fur.

How did I forget? She couldn’t have been in ThunderClan. Leafpool had been dead for seasons now, killed in a rockslide.

I’m in StarClan, he realized. And Brambleclaw now, not Bramblestar. He’d given up his leadership and retired to the elders’ den. He’d been unable to lead ThunderClan, drained and old before his time because of the moons he’d spent imprisoned in the Dark Forest.

Seeing Squirrelflight and the kits, seeing ThunderClan at peace back when he’d had the confidence to lead them, had that all been a dream?

“Am I . . . dead?” Brambleclaw asked, his chest tightening with dismay. He looked around, taking in the beauty and peace of StarClan’s hunting grounds. I don’t want to be here. Not yet. Please.

Leafpool blinked at him sympathetically. “You’re not dead,” she told him, and warm relief swept through him. He wasn’t ready to leave his family, or his Clan.

She went on. “But there isn’t much time. StarClan needs you to bring a warning to all the Clans.”

Brambleclaw’s ears twitched and he sat up straighter. I can still be of use to the Clans, he thought. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Leafpool’s eyes were bright and fierce. “Tell them that a fight is coming. You must all be ready.”

There’s always a fight coming. But Brambleclaw dipped his head respectfully. As he straightened back up, he saw Leafpool’s jaw drop, her eyes widen in horror.

“What—” But his head was spinning again, Leafpool vanishing as if she’d never been there. StarClan faded and darkness swallowed him, only to be relieved at last by a dim pale light, the peace of StarClan replaced with a feeling of dread. Gray tree trunks rose above his head; thick, dark branches intertwined to block out the sky. If he could have seen the sky, he knew that it would have held no stars. A cold fog wafted around him, chilling Brambleclaw’s bones.

I know this place, he thought again.

The Dark Forest.

Brambleclaw’s pelt prickled with the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He looked around, turning slowly to see in every direction. There was nothing, just the dim stillness of the forest. No scent of prey, no breeze, just the heavy, oppressive fog and the feeling of hostile eyes.

Behind him, something growled, a low, guttural sound that promised pain.

With a gasp, Brambleclaw opened his eyes onto darkness.

But this was a warm, comfortable darkness, rich with the scents of his Clanmates. There was soft moss beneath him. Nearby, Cloudtail muttered something unintelligible, and Thornclaw grunted and shifted in his sleep.

The elders’ den. Thank StarClan. Brambleclaw’s heart was pounding so hard that it vibrated throughout his body, and part of him still wanted to run. He sat up in his nest, panting, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t dreamed of StarClan or of the Dark Forest in seasons, not since right after the Clans’ defeat of Ashfur.

It was just a dream, he told himself. There was nothing evil here. Nothing waited outside the elders’ den either; he could see faint stars in the sky through the den entrance. But still, Leafpool’s warning echoed in his mind: A fight is coming. You must all be ready.

His fur rose along his spine as he stared out into the night.

Fidgetflake, the younger SkyClan medicine cat, stuck his head through the den’s entrance. “Tigerstar and Shadowsight are here,” he reported. “Is Tawnypelt up to seeing them?”

“I am,” Tawnypelt meowed hoarsely before Frecklewish could answer. It would be a relief to see her kin after what she’d been through. And this was her opportunity to tell Tigerstar and Shadowsight about the message Bluestar had given her, if only she could talk to them in private.

Fidgetflake stepped inside, gesturing the visitors in with his tail. Tigerstar squeezed his powerful shoulders through the entrance to the medicine den and immediately fixed his gaze on Tawnypelt, his amber eyes darkening in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked. “How do you feel?”

Shadowsight slipped in behind his father and brushed his cheek gently against Tawnypelt’s as he took a sharp look at her injuries.

“I’ll live,” Tawnypelt meowed weakly. “Frecklewish and Fidgetflake have been taking very good care of me.”

Tigerstar nodded respectfully to the medicine cats, then returned his gaze to Tawnypelt. “If you had told any cat where you were going instead of dashing off on your own, then we would have found you much faster.”

Beneath her soreness, Tawnypelt’s pelt prickled with familiar annoyance. She loved and respected Tigerstar, both as her son and as her leader, but his insistence on treating her like a kit who had barely stepped outside the nursery drove her mad. She swallowed down her angry response and instead meowed as lightly as she could, “Now, Tigerstar, you know I’m a veteran warrior who can make my own mistakes. And Birchfeather was with me. He ran and brought back help as soon as it happened.”

Tigerstar must have been even more worried about her than Tawnypelt had realized, because he merely looked annoyed at the mention of his youngest kit, who had left ShadowClan to become a SkyClan cat. Instead he turned to Shadowsight. “Look Tawnypelt over and see if we can take her back to ShadowClan.”

The sharpest of the pain was fading beneath the influence of the poppy seeds, and Tawnypelt’s mind was beginning to feel fuzzy again. She blinked slowly at Shadowsight, half hoping he would say she was too hurt to go home. She wanted to be back at ShadowClan’s camp, but she wasn’t sure she could make it there.

Shadowsight sighed. “I can tell from here that she’s not ready to travel,” he meowed, one of his ears flattening in concern. “If SkyClan is willing to have her, it would be much better to let her recover for a few more days before she journeys back to ShadowClan.”

Tawnypelt’s head felt too heavy for her to raise it and look at the SkyClan cats, but she heard Frecklewish’s answer. “I agree with Shadowsight. We’ve patched Tawnypelt up as well as we can, but she was in bad shape when we brought her here. SkyClan would be honored to take care of her until she’s strong enough to travel.”

“I’ll speak with Hawkwing before we go,” Tigerstar meowed. “And we’ll send some warriors over with prey for the fresh-kill pile while Tawnypelt’s here. We don’t expect SkyClan to give away their prey.”

Was that a subtle dig at SkyClan for having asked to hunt on ShadowClan land just over a moon ago, when some of their prey had been poisoned by the Twolegs? Or was it simply Tigerstar’s pride talking? Tawnypelt would have given her son a pointed look, but she was too sleepy. Those poppy seeds are powerful. The pain was dull enough now that she thought she would sleep again soon.

“We’ll give you three a moment alone while Tawnypelt’s still awake,” Frecklewish meowed, and Tawnypelt heard both SkyClan medicine cats leave the medicine den.

This is my chance. She could tell Tigerstar what she had learned in StarClan, warn him about the peril that was coming. She shook her head a little, trying to chase away the fog that seemed to fill her mind, and it sent a shock of pain through her. Despite herself, she whimpered.

“Be still,” Shadowsight meowed softly, much closer to her now.

“I have to . . . ” Her tongue felt heavy and thick. “Tigerstar.”

“What is it?” Her son was close beside her. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“The . . . the . . .” Beware the two-faced cat. “Darkness . . . ” Darkness is coming. Why couldn’t she speak?

“She’s talking nonsense,” she heard Tigerstar meow. “What’s wrong with her?” His voice was tight with worry.

Shadowsight’s whiskers brushed against her again. When had her eyes closed? Tawnypelt tried to open them, but her eyelids felt as heavy as stones.

“It’s the poppy seeds,” she heard Shadowsight answer, as if from a distance. “They can be very potent. They’ll let Tawnypelt sleep without pain, and sleep is the best thing for her now.”

“She will be all right though, won’t she?” Tawnypelt didn’t hear Shadowsight’s reply, but when Tigerstar spoke again, he sounded less anxious. “Rest now, Tawnypelt. We’ll come back soon to bring you home.”

Tawnypelt tried once more to raise her head and speak. I have a message from StarClan. You must listen to me! But she couldn’t force the words out. With a huge effort, she managed to pry open her eyes just a crack. Shadowsight’s gray tabby tail was disappearing through the medicine den entrance as he followed his father away. Come back, she tried to meow, but sleep was already pulling her down.

When she blinked back awake, Tawnypelt was aware that time had passed. The light shining through the medicine-den entrance had dimmed, and she could tell it was long past sunhigh. Birchfeather was sitting by her nest, his light brown tail curled around his paws.

“She’s been asleep since your father was here,” Tawnypelt heard Fidgetflake meow from the other side of the den.

“I’m awake now,” she croaked, and Birchfeather turned toward her.

“Thank StarClan,” he meowed. “You’re looking much better than when we brought you here yesterday. I’ve got some fresh-kill for you.” He nudged a sparrow toward her, but Tawnypelt didn’t take a bite. It seemed like too much effort to eat.

“I’m glad you were with me,” she told him, remembering that Birchfeather had run all the way back to SkyClan’s camp to get help after she had fallen. He had helped carry her here. It was still an effort to speak, but she wanted to let him know she appreciated that he had saved her. “It’s good I have kin in SkyClan, or who knows how long I would have lain in that pit.”

Birchfeather’s face darkened. “You don’t have kin in SkyClan. Yet.”

“It’s always something,” Birchfeather burst out. “Ridgeglow and I need to start our lives together. I should have been a SkyClan warrior for half a moon already.”

Fidgetflake didn’t answer. Instead he came over to stand beside them, carrying a dock leaf with some poppy seeds on it. “Lap these up and take a few bites of the sparrow with it,” he instructed Tawnypelt. “Eating prey will keep the seeds from upsetting your stomach.”

Obediently, Tawnypelt bent her head to lick up the seeds, then nibbled at the sparrow. She could feel herself sinking down toward sleep again. She mumbled to Birchfeather through a yawn, “That’s Clan life. Leaders have many things they have to do, and they focus on what’s most important. Sometimes their Clanmates have to be patient.”

If you came back to ShadowClan, Tigerstar would make Ridgeglow a ShadowClan warrior as quickly as he could, she thought but didn’t say. Tigerstar and Dovewing were distraught that their youngest kit had chosen to change Clans. Birchfeather’s mate-to-be, Ridgeglow, had refused to come to ShadowClan, though, insisting that they raise their future kits in SkyClan.

Birchfeather’s tail twitched angrily. “I just feel like no one cares about making me a warrior. Since I wasn’t born in SkyClan and I don’t have kin here, no cat except Ridgeglow is interested in whether I become part of the Clan or not.”

“That’s just not true, Birchfeather,” Fidgetflake argued.

Tawnypelt yawned again. Birchfeather is used to having Tigerstar worry about him. ShadowClan’s leader cared about his kin more than anything. It must be strange for Birchfeather to feel like just another warrior.

“I wish leaders thought about all their warriors,” Birchfeather went on.

A spark of anger warmed Tawnypelt’s chest. When her mate, Rowanstar, had been leader of ShadowClan, he had tried so hard to hold the Clan together. And some of the apprentices and young warriors had turned against him, frustrated that they weren’t the center of things. Of course, Birchfeather wasn’t like them—he would be loyal to his new Clan and leader—but she didn’t like how he spoke.

“It’s not . . . you should . . . ” A wave of tiredness washed over her, and she could barely understand her own words.

“Oh.” Birchfeather sounded apologetic, his voice softer. “I’m sorry, Tawnypelt, you don’t need to listen to this.” He hesitated, and then she felt him lick her cheek gently. “You rest. I’ll come back and see you tomorrow.”

Tawnypelt let her eyes slowly shut, hearing Birchfeather go. A little later there was a murmur of voices at the den entrance, but she didn’t stir. She felt like she was sinking more and more deeply into her nest.

“Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s still young, and he has a good heart,” a deep meow came from beside her.

Opening her eyes and turning painlessly to meet the amber gaze of the cat beside her nest, Tawnypelt felt a rush of relief. Rowanclaw! She’d been hoping he would visit her from StarClan again. Everything was easier when Rowanclaw was with her. “I know,” she meowed. “It’s not Birchfeather I’m worried about, not really. I have to tell the Clans about the warning Bluestar gave me. And I couldn’t make Tigerstar listen.”

“He was more worried about you being hurt,” Rowanclaw meowed reassuringly. “He’s a good son, even though he’s stubborn. You’ll tell him as soon as you’re back on your paws.”

“But that may be too late,” Tawnypelt worried. “The Clans are in danger.” She repeated what Bluestar had told her, reminding herself of the exact wording. “A great peril is about to befall the Clans. . . . The end of an era approaches . . . I must lead the Clans out of the moonless darkness and onto a new path . . . I must not lose my way, even after the stars have faded . . . Beware the two-faced cat with a paw in each world.” She stared anxiously at Rowanclaw. “The longer it takes before the Clan leaders listen to me, the worse our problems are going to get.”

Rowanclaw brushed his tail across her back tenderly. “Then you should rest as much as you can. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can give the Clans your message.”

“Oh, Rowanclaw.” Tawnypelt’s heart ached with affection. “What would I do without you? You’re the only one who can help me.”

I can’t be in charge of a sick cat. What if something happens before I can call the medicine cats? What if she dies? Starlingpaw had been responsible for his own father’s death, after all. He’d run after the patrol that was supposed to drive off the badger on their territory, foolishly thinking he could help. But he’d distracted Kitescratch, and Kitescratch had been killed. He couldn’t be trusted with any cat’s safety. The medicine cats knew that; every cat in SkyClan knew it. Why had they left him alone with their patient?

As he watched, Tawnypelt tensed, her body going rigid. Was she in pain? Should he call for the medicine cats? Starlingpaw took a step closer to the den’s entrance.

He stopped as a low voice came from behind him, Tawnypelt’s meow as clear as a bird’s call. “The Clans are in danger. Moonless darkness approaches . . . faded stars . . .” Her voice rose into a yowl. “Beware the two-faced cat with a paw in each world!”

The fur rose along Starlingpaw’s spine. Was she talking to him? What was she saying? It didn’t sound like anything he had ever heard a cat say. It was like she was warning him about the future.

Was she making some kind of prophecy? She wasn’t a medicine cat, but maybe warriors sometimes had a connection to StarClan. Or perhaps there was something special about Tawnypelt. Fur rose along Starlingpaw’s spine and he shivered.

He hurried over to stand beside her nest. The ShadowClan cat had rolled onto her side and was writhing, her claws extended and front paws striking the air as if she were warding off an attacker. Starlingpaw stretched out his own paw to touch her—maybe I can calm her down—but hesitated, his paw hanging in midair. What if I make her worse?

Tawnypelt began to mutter again, a quiet, worried moan, and rolled her head from side to side. “I can’t stop the darkness . . . moonless night . . . I don’t know, don’t know who the two-faced cat is.”

Is she awake? Starlingpaw leaned closer, looking into Tawnypelt’s face. Her eyes were closed, but he could see them moving rapidly beneath their lids.

Suddenly the ShadowClan cat’s eyes shot open. They were bright green, and they stared into Starlingpaw’s own eyes so intensely that he felt as if she were looking through him, into his heart. “You’re the only one who can help me,” she meowed.

Starlingpaw stumbled backward, tripping over his own paws. “Me? Help with what?” He searched Tawnypelt’s face, but her eyes had slipped shut again. “Tawnypelt? Why are the Clans in danger?”

He held his breath, his heart pounding. Did she really mean . . . him? Starlingpaw? Would she say anything else? He watched as the older cat’s face and body relaxed back into deep sleep. After a few heartbeats she let out a soft snore.

He nudged her gently, feeling guilty about trying to wake a sick cat. But if the Clans were in danger, he had to know what she could tell him. “Tawnypelt? Tell me again what’s happening?”

But she didn’t wake.

Should he report Tawnypelt’s words to Fidgetflake and Frecklewish? Messages from StarClan were medicine-cat business. Starlingpaw twitched his tail thoughtfully. But . . . if StarClan was sending their message to him, and sending it through Tawnypelt, maybe they didn’t want the medicine cats to know.

After all, medicine cats talked to StarClan all the time. StarClan must have its reasons. If the prophecy had come to a warrior and an apprentice, it was because those were the cats who StarClan wanted to know.

Not knowing what else to do, Starlingpaw went back to refreshing the other nests in the medicine den. It was probably just nonsense. But as he tucked in pieces of bracken and fresh moss, his mind was spinning. It hadn’t sounded like nonsense. It had sounded important.

Moonless darkness. . . .

A two-faced cat . . .

And I am the only one who can help? Me?

Maybe Tawnypelt was just delirious and muttering about her dreams. She was injured, and perhaps feverish. The medicine cats had given her poppy seeds. When he was still in the nursery, he had cut his paw badly and Fidgetflake had given him a single poppy seed; it had made him drowsy and confused.

But it hadn’t made him yowl what sounded like prophecies. It made the most sense that Tawnypelt was passing on a message from StarClan, didn’t it? Thinking hard, he wove a piece of bracken into the edge of Fidgetflake’s nest.

Times had been hard and confusing in SkyClan over the last few moons. First, one of the streams on their territory had been poisoned and the prey had gone bad, so every cat was hungry and anxious. Then the badgers had settled on their territory and Kitescratch . . . Starlingpaw winced, tucking his tail between his legs. The Twolegs were building something huge and strange not far from SkyClan’s territory. And then Leafstar had been forced to step down, and they didn’t really have a leader yet, not until StarClan gave Hawkwing nine lives.

It would make sense for StarClan to have a message for them. But why him? A message for Starlingpaw, the only one who could help. Suddenly he realized what was special about him: He’d been responsible for his father’s death. Was StarClan giving him a chance to redeem himself? Determination made him raise his head, his paws pausing in his work, the bracken dangling from one claw. If he was the only one who could help, that meant that he needed to do what StarClan asked of him. Tawnypelt had yowled that Starlingpaw was the only one who could help her, so it must be something StarClan wanted them to do together.

But what was that? How could he help?

The nests finished, he crossed the den again and looked down at Tawnypelt. Maybe StarClan would send him a clearer message through her. Or maybe she would wake up and explain everything to him. But the older cat was firmly asleep, her mouth a little open, and breathing heavily.

As he hesitated, Fidgetflake came through the medicine-den entrance. “The nests look good, Starlingpaw, thank you,” he meowed, taking a brisk look around. “Everything okay in here?”

Now was the time to tell Fidgetflake about Tawnypelt’s words. But Starlingpaw was silent. If StarClan wants the medicine cats to know, they’ll tell them, he thought. This is just for me. And Tawnypelt. I’m the only one who can help her.

“It’s all fine,” he answered Fidgetflake, and, flicking his ears in farewell, he left.

Outside, he walked a few steps from the entrance, and then his paws slowed. He still didn’t understand what StarClan wanted him to do. Was there any cat he could trust to give him a little advice? He scanned SkyClan’s camp, looking for inspiration.

Dark gray clouds were massing overhead, and it looked like a storm was coming. Only a few cats lingered in the grassy clearing. Many of those who weren’t out hunting had already taken shelter in their dens, or beneath the stones and trees surrounding the grassy valley where SkyClan had their camp.

As he got closer to his mother, his steps slowed again. She was curled close to her brother, as if taking strength from him, her dark head resting on his yellow back. Was she talking to him about Kitescratch’s death? Starlingpaw supposed it was natural Rootspring would comfort her—not only was he her littermate, but Starlingpaw had heard he’d loved a cat from another Clan who’d died horribly, doing something great to save all the Clans. That was one reason cats like Birchfeather could switch Clans to be with the cats they loved now. Rootspring had lost his mate and would understand what Needleclaw was going through. Guilt twisted viciously in Starlingpaw’s stomach.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He’d been so sure that Needleclaw was the right cat to confide in that, for a few breaths, he’d forgotten how things had changed.

But he kept walking until he stood beside them. Two pairs of matching sky-blue eyes looked up at him.

“Starlingpaw,” his mother meowed slowly. “How are you?” Her voice was low and sad.

“I’m okay.” She doesn’t want me here. Why would she? He felt like they’d been avoiding each other since Kitescratch died. His mother had turned inward, grieving, and he’d been afraid to approach her. She knows who’s responsible for Kitescratch’s death. Everyone does.

“Well, sit down,” Needleclaw waved her tail, gesturing him closer. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.” He sat, the guilt swirling inside him growing stronger. She’d never say to him that her sorrow was his fault, but she must be thinking it.

“Nectarsong says you’re doing very well,” Needleclaw mentioned after a few heartbeats of silence.

“How do you like her as a mentor?” Rootspring asked.

“She’s okay. She’s good. I’m learning a lot,” Starlingpaw answered. His words trailed off and he tried to think of something else to tell them. “I like hunting.”

“I was a terrible apprentice,” Rootspring meowed cheerfully. “But I got there in the end. Your mother learned much faster than I did.”

“Well, Kitescratch and Turtlecrawl picked on you so much when we started training,” Needleclaw meowed, sounding faintly amused. “They were a couple of moons older than us, but it took them a while to grow up.” A shadow passed over her face and she stared down at her paws.

“Your father enjoyed being bigger than me and knowing more,” Rootspring meowed to Starlingpaw. “But he hardly ever teased Needleclaw. Maybe he already liked her then.”

“Maybe,” Starlingpaw answered, hunching his shoulders. He found it hard to believe that Kitescratch had ever teased any cat. He’d always been so kind, so proud of Starlingpaw and Robinpaw, so ready to teach them anything they wanted to know.

He remembered Kitescratch whisking his tail back and forth outside the nursery when they’d been tiny kits, letting them practice their pounces on him. He’d carried them on his back when they were tired, and when they were hungry, he’d brought them all the different kinds of prey he could find, so they could decide what they liked best.

Starlingpaw closed his eyes, his heart aching. Why had he ever followed that patrol? What had he been thinking?

He’d wanted to see a badger, and he’d been confident that he could safely watch the patrol fight it from a distance. But things had gone wrong so fast! The badger had started tearing at Kitescratch with its sharp yellow teeth. Starlingpaw had run toward him and the other warriors without thinking, wanting to help.

His sudden appearance had startled Leafstar, and she’d turned to strike at him, thinking he was another badger. Kitescratch had rushed over to push her away. He’d saved Starlingpaw. While they were all distracted and looking away from the fight, the bigger badger had turned on Kitescratch and bitten deeply into his throat.

Kitescratch had lived long enough to run away with them, but he hadn’t made it back to SkyClan’s camp. There had been so much blood. Starlingpaw could still see it behind his closed eyelids, how the dark red blood had stained his father’s lighter reddish-brown fur, how it had pooled on the frost-hardened ground.

Leafstar had turned on him and told him what he already knew: If he hadn’t shown up at the worst possible time, hadn’t followed a patrol he wasn’t supposed to be on, it never would have happened. His father would be alive.

A soft tail brushed over his back, and Starlingpaw opened his eyes. His mother was staring at him, her eyes dark with sorrow. “I know you miss Kitescratch,” she meowed. “I do too.”

Guilt filled him, blocking his throat and trapping his words inside for a moment, and then he swallowed and croaked, “Yeah.” I know you miss him. He got to his feet. “I’m hungry. I’m going to get something to eat.”

He hurried away toward the fresh-kill pile, unwilling to spend another moment with his mother. How could she bear to look at him? He stared at the prey. Even though he wasn’t hungry, it gave him an excuse not to meet any cat’s eyes. He picked up the smallest mouse on the pile, just as the first drops of rain hit his pelt.

For a heartbeat, he had forgotten all about Tawnypelt’s vision. He couldn’t have asked Needleclaw about the prophecy anyway. He couldn’t give her anything new to worry about. But the words came back to him as he carried the mouse to some sheltering bracken.

Rain began to pour down as Starlingpaw took an unenthusiastic bite. Even though he was huddled beneath the bracken, his pelt was quickly getting soaked.

Beware the two-faced cat with a paw in each world.

He swallowed hard, choking down the prey. He just needed to figure out who the two-faced cat was. Maybe if he solved that riddle, he would save SkyClan from a terrible fate. Save all the Clans, even, like the she-cat Rootspring had once loved.

You’re the only one who can help.

If that was true, he had to do everything he could. No matter what.

Then maybe he’d be able to forgive himself. He’d have done something good, something important. StarClan was giving him a chance to redeem himself, and he needed to take it. Maybe then he’d be able to stop thinking of himself only as the cat who’d caused Kitescratch’s death.

Sunbeam gave her an approving look but shook her head.

“It’s getting late.” She glanced up at the sky.

Following her gaze, Moonpaw saw that the sun was nearing the horizon. The sky was gray and heavy with clouds. It had rained the past few nights, and it would probably rain again tonight. Moonpaw was tired and cold and, now that she thought about it, her paws were sore, but she looked pleadingly at Sunbeam anyway. “Can’t we train just a little longer?”

With a purr of laughter, Sunbeam nudged Moonpaw’s side, pushing her gently toward camp. “Absolutely not. I’m getting tired and hungry, and I’m sure you are too. Apprentices need plenty of food and sleep to grow into strong warriors, you know.”

Moonpaw tried to stand up straighter, to look stronger. “I’m fine!” she meowed eagerly. “I can keep going!”

“Apprentices also need to listen to their mentors, Moonpaw,” Sunbeam replied, sounding less amused. “I’m proud of you, and I’m glad you’re so eager to train, but it’s time to rest and eat now, and that’s final.” Brushing her tail affectionately across Moonpaw’s shoulders, she led the way back toward camp.

There was no point in pushing anymore, Moonpaw thought. I’d only make Sunbeam mad at me. The older she-cat was a great mentor, and Moonpaw wanted her approval. It was just that . . . the harder Moonpaw trained, the easier it was to ignore the orange cat’s voice. Her sister’s voice, according to what her parents had told her. A sister who’d died when they were tiny kits, who she’d never known but who, somehow, had stayed beside her.

That was really boring, the other cat meowed, as if she’d summoned her. I bet a real fight would be more fun.

I’m not going to listen, Moonpaw thought firmly, trying to close her mind to the orange cat’s voice even as she heard her huff of irritation. She focused on the dry leaves crunching beneath her paws and the muddy leaf-fall ground underneath. Tasting the air, she thought hard about all the different scents she could catch—the scents of the different ThunderClan warriors who had passed through this spot today, and the smell of the trees all around her, distinct from the dry, moldy smell of dead leaves. She could sense a dampness in the air, the scent of rain to come. There was a faint odor of mouse and a stronger one of squirrel. The scent of oak trees is completely different from how birch trees smell, she noted. More bitter.

Moonpaw had realized that if she thought very hard of other things all the time, she barely heard the orange cat’s voice.

She followed Sunbeam through the thorn tunnel into the stone hollow of ThunderClan’s camp, where they both stopped at the fresh-kill pile. Moonpaw’s stomach grumbled as she picked out a plump shrew.

“You did well today, Moonpaw,” praised Sunbeam as she picked up her own piece of prey and headed toward her mate, Nightheart, who was sitting nearby. Moonpaw waved her tail in acknowledgment and carried her shrew over to sit outside the apprentices’ den.

Shinepaw and Goldenpaw, her denmates and Sunbeam’s kits, were already sharing a squirrel, and they greeted her cheerfully.

“I think I caught that shrew,” Goldenpaw boasted, leaning over to look. “It’s a good fat one, isn’t it? Finleap and I went hunting this afternoon, and he told me I was doing very well. He thinks I’ll be one of the best hunters in ThunderClan someday.”

Shinepaw rolled her eyes. “So I’m sure that shrew is better than any other shrew in our whole hunting grounds. Flipclaw and I went on a border patrol this afternoon and we scented a fox. It didn’t cross the border, but Squirrelstar is going to warn the other Clans at the next Gathering, because it might go onto one of the other territories. We might have to band together and drive it off if it stays near the lake.”

“Oh, how very important,” Goldenpaw commented. “If you saw a fox, you’d be up a tree so fast that there’d be nothing to see but a black blur.”

As the other two apprentices bickered, Moonpaw took a bite of her shrew. I wonder if my littermate and I would have teased each other like this. Despite their frequent arguing, she knew that Goldenpaw and Shinepaw were the best of friends.

I’d like to share prey, the voice in her mind whispered. I bet I could eat twice as fast as you.

No, I’m not thinking about my littermate and what might have happened. It doesn’t matter. She concentrated instead on the feeling of her fangs sinking into the shrew and the taste of its meat. Juicy. It’s so good to eat after a long day of training. She swallowed, careful to notice how the muscles in her throat moved. I’m paying attention to this so hard that I can’t hear any voices in my head.

“—paw?” Shinepaw and Goldenpaw were both staring at her. Blinking, Moonpaw realized they had been calling her name.

“Sorry, what?”

“We were just asking what you did today,” Shinepaw answered. “Are you all right? It was like you were in some kind of trance.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine. Uh, Sunbeam showed me some fighting moves. She suggested we could all do battle practice together tomorrow, if your mentors agree.”

“Great!” Goldenpaw perked up. “I can’t wait to learn how to fight off ThunderClan’s enemies. Finleap told me he’d teach me how to rake an enemy’s belly with my claws. It’s one of the best moves for battle. Maybe we’ll learn tomorrow.”

“It does sound fun,” Shinepaw admitted. “Although you’ll have to get a little faster to catch any cat’s belly in your claws, Goldenpaw.” Ignoring her littermate’s yowl of outrage, she narrowed her green eyes at Moonpaw. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look really tired.”

Now that Moonpaw was sitting down, the tiredness she’d been hiding from Sunbeam washed over her. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was sleep. She choked down the last bite of her shrew and rose unsteadily to her paws. “You’re right, I’m going to sleep. See you in the morning.”

She staggered into the apprentices’ den and collapsed into her nest. Her eyes closed almost of their own accord, and it felt as if she was sinking deeper and deeper into her nest, sleep rising to swallow her.

Moonpaw’s paws thudded across the grassy moor and her heart pounded hard. Her breath was coming in wheezy gasps. She’d been running for a long time, she thought. A little distance ahead of her, the orange cat was walking unhurriedly, her tail held high. Moonpaw couldn’t see her face, just her back and her long, steady stride.

I have to catch her.

Moonpaw ran faster. She ran and ran, her paws getting sore. Finally, after what felt like half a day, she was only a tail-length from the other cat. With a gasp, she realized now that the orange cat wasn’t alone. There was a kit running ahead of her. I should know that kit. It was so familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to it. She couldn’t quite see it clearly, not even the color of its fur or whether it was a tom or a she-kit. As Moonpaw watched, the orange cat butted the kit with her head, hurrying it along, and it gave a short, grumpy mew of protest.

Moonpaw blinked and suddenly, they were the same distance ahead of her as when she’d begun to run. All that running had been for nothing. The orange cat strode on calmly, the kit hurrying ahead of her.

“Stop!” Moonpaw yowled after them. But they kept going. Moonpaw put on even more speed. She had to catch them!

As she ran, her paw caught on something and she almost tripped. She saw that the grass had grown taller and more tangled beneath her feet. A blade snaked its way around one of her front paws, and she jerked to a stop. Looking back up, she could see the orange cat ahead, exactly as far away as she’d always been, strolling along without looking back. The kit ran in front of her, its shorter tail waving merrily.

More strands of grass were twining around Moonpaw’s paws. Steeling herself, she pulled at them, trying to drag herself forward. But the grass wrapped itself more tightly, pulling at her, and she lost her balance, falling, falling. . . .

“You should get back to your den,” Daisy meowed crisply, and Moonpaw’s thoughts of confiding in her melted away. Behind the she-cat, Sunkit was peering out of the nursery entrance, his ears flattened and his tail twitching nervously. His eyes were wide with fright.

Moonpaw felt her whiskers droop. Sunkit had looked at her that way ever since the night when he’d disappeared and she’d found him in the hollow tree. He’d accused her of leading him there in the middle of the night and abandoning him.

She hadn’t! And every cat knew she hadn’t—she’d been asleep in the medicine den, and Jayfeather or Alderheart would have woken if she’d left. Wouldn’t they have? She was pretty sure it had been her late littermate, the orange cat, who had led him away, that Sunkit had seen her somehow, even though Moonpaw herself had only ever seen her in reflections, standing behind her.

But a wave of guilt ran through her anyway when she saw the fear in Sunkit’s gaze. She didn’t want him to be afraid. And if the orange cat had frightened him, wasn’t that Moonpaw’s fault?

After all, the orange cat was here because of Moonpaw, because they were littermates, and she’d died and Moonpaw had gone on, alive, and left her behind.

There was no way that she could explain any of this to any cat without sounding like she had a brain full of bees.

“I’m just tired is all,” she murmured at last. “Maybe I was sleepwalking. Nothing to worry about.”

“Go to sleep then, Moonpaw,” Daisy meowed with finality, and turned back into the nursery, ushering Sunkit ahead of her.

Moonpaw trudged back to her nest. The apprentices’ den was quiet, so at least it didn’t seem like she had woken Goldenpaw or Shinepaw. She remembered the fear in Sunkit’s gaze and tucked her tail between her legs, feeling miserable. She wished she could reassure him. But she was afraid, too. What is happening to me?

When the sky began to lighten, Moonpaw blinked at it blearily from her nest. She’d hardly slept at all once she’d gotten back to her den. Maybe that was all for the best, since apparently she might wake up anywhere. She got to her paws and slipped out of the den without waking the other apprentices.

She went quietly out of camp through the dirtplace tunnel as the sun was rising. On the way back, she decided she’d go to the medicine den and ask Jayfeather and Alderheart if they needed help with any tasks. She might not want to be a medicine-cat apprentice anymore, but she still remembered the different herbs, and she was good at changing nests and tidying up dens. It would be smart to stay busy until Sunbeam was ready to continue her training. The more she did, the less likely it was that she’d hear the voice of the orange cat.

Since her dream last night, she was more determined than ever not to listen.

As she came back into camp, Moonpaw could hear the sounds of her Clanmates waking up.

“Mousewhisker, would you lead the dawn patrol?” Ivypool, the ThunderClan deputy, called, looking over at the warriors emerging from their den. “Take Nightheart, Plumstone, and Stemtail with you.”

There was some good-humored grumbling from the warriors she’d named, but they gathered around Mousewhisker and headed out of camp.

Alderheart had come out of the medicine den and was heading for the fresh-kill pile. Moonpaw sped up a little, hoping to intercept him and get him to give her a task rather than face a just-woken-up Jayfeather. She’d learned in her time in the medicine den that Jayfeather was at his grumpiest in the early mornings.

As she passed the nursery, her pelt prickled. Was someone watching her? She turned and saw Daisy and Myrtlebloom, Sunkit’s mother. Hesitantly, she flicked her tail in greeting. After a few heartbeats, they nodded to her in response, but their eyes were cold.

Moonpaw ducked her head and walked on, turning toward the apprentices’ den. Maybe she didn’t want to ask Alderheart for any favors right now. What if Daisy and Myrtlebloom told him they thought something was wrong with Moonpaw?

She couldn’t blame them. Of course Myrtlebloom wouldn’t be pleased that Moonpaw had been lurking outside the nursery at night with no explanation. Not when Myrtlebloom’s three kits were sleeping there. Not after Sunkit had accused her of luring him away from camp. At the time Myrtlebloom had assumed Sunkit was remembering a dream, but she was probably starting to think there was more to the story now that Moonpaw was acting weird. She and Daisy were both probably beginning to wonder if it was true.

Maybe it was true. If Moonpaw was walking in her sleep, who knew what else she was doing? Who knew what the orange cat might be making her do?

Perhaps Myrtlebloom and Daisy thought that Moonpaw could be dangerous. Were they right?

Moonpaw shivered. She needed to make sure that what had happened last night never happened again.

But how could she stop herself from sleepwalking? She certainly hadn’t meant to do it. And it wasn’t as if she could just decide to not sleep. . . .

Or could I?