Warriors
Omen of the Stars Collection
with Bonus Material

Erin Hunter

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #1: The Fourth Apprentice

Title Page

Allegiances

Map

Prologue

Water poured over the lip of the rock in a…

Chapter 1

A full moon floated in a cloudless sky, casting thick…

Chapter 2

Jayfeather picked through the herbs in the storage cave at…

Chapter 3

Dovekit wriggled with excitement as Whitewing’s tongue rasped around her…

Chapter 4

Lionblaze halted in the center of the clearing and let…

Chapter 5

A paw clipping against her ear woke Dovepaw; keeping her…

Chapter 6

Dovepaw followed Lionblaze through the thorn tunnel and into the…

Chapter 7

Jayfeather winced at Dovepaw’s dismay as she learned that she…

Chapter 8

Lionblaze pushed his way through the thorn tunnel and padded…

Chapter 9

Lionblaze gazed up at the full moon hanging above the…

Chapter 10

As soon as Jayfeather woke on the morning after the…

Chapter 11

Dovepaw stood on the rocks at the mouth of the…

Chapter 12

With the gazes of all four deputies on them, the…

Chapter 13

Lionblaze cast sidelong glances at Dovepaw as she padded beside…

Chapter 14

As soon as the thorn barrier stopped quivering after Brambleclaw,…

Chapter 15

A dry, dusty breeze swept over Dovepaw, rattling the branches…

Chapter 16

Lionblaze heard panic in his apprentice’s wail and saw the…

Chapter 17

Jayfeather lifted his head and tasted the air, which had…

Chapter 18

Dovepaw felt her pelt stand on end with excitement as…

Chapter 19

Lionblaze led the patrol away from the water and into…

Chapter 20

What in the name of StarClan made her come all…

Chapter 21

Lionblaze and Toadfoot lowered Rippletail’s body into the hole they…

Chapter 22

Lionblaze jumped up onto the bank of the stream and…

Chapter 23

Jayfeather groaned as he forced his eyes open on darkness.

Chapter 24

Dovepaw sank her claws into a branch as the wave…

Chapter 25

The daylight grew stronger as the cats headed back through…

Chapter 26

“What’s happening?” Berrynose poked his head into the entrance of…

Acknowledgments

Warriors Adventure Game

Fever Dreams

After the Adventure

Copyright

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #2: Fading Echoes

Title Page

Allegiances

Map

Prologue

Trees whispered, branch to branch, above the lifeless forest floor.

Chapter 1

Dovepaw trembled in her sleep.

Chapter 2

“Ouch!” Jayfeather staggered sideways as a pain, sharp as a…

Chapter 3

Jayfeather looked up as the brambles at the entrance to…

Chapter 4

“No, no!” Lionblaze called to his apprentice. “If you climb…

Chapter 5

Dovepaw stretched her aching legs. Her nest rustled as she…

Chapter 6

Jayfeather jerked awake. The air was still damp with night,…

Chapter 7

“Long ago, I was told of a prophecy—” the ThunderClan…

Chapter 8

Cold raindrops showered from the roof as Ivypaw pushed her…

Chapter 9

Dovepaw padded restlessly beside the barrier of thorns, anxious to…

Chapter 10

Bright flowers nodded around the apprentice as she weaved, slender…

Chapter 11

Rain dripped at the mouth of Firestar’s den. As Jayfeather…

Chapter 12

Jayfeather lifted his head and sniffed the dawn breeze. The…

Chapter 13

“StarClan honors your courage and spirit.” Firestar touched his muzzle…

Chapter 14

Ivypaw shivered. A chilly wind had stripped the flowers from…

Chapter 15

“Why didn’t you want me to bring Dovepaw?” Lionblaze sat…

Chapter 16

Trees in full leaf whispered gently in the breeze. Yellowfang…

Chapter 17

Lionblaze couldn’t sleep. Had Jayfeather discovered something at the Moonpool?

Chapter 18

Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. Her…

Chapter 19

“Clanmates are everything. And we’re your Clanmates now.”

Chapter 20

“I’ll find a way,” Ivypaw murmured as Tigerstar led Hawkfrost…

Chapter 21

Briarlight was coughing.

Chapter 22

Ivypaw drew in a breath. The cold seared her tongue…

Chapter 23

Dovepaw dug her paws deeper into the grass as Blackstar…

Chapter 24

Lionblaze nosed Dovepaw up the tree trunk and turned to…

Warriors Adventure Game

Acknowledgments

Copyright

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #3: Night Whispers

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Keep watch for

Warriors Adventure Game

Uninvited Guests

After the Adventure

Copyright

Extra Content

Meet the Clans

The Warrior Code

Cats of the Clans

Maps of the Lake Territories

“After Sunset: The Right Choice?”

Sneak peek at Warriors: Omen of the Stars #4: Sign of the Moon

Sneak peek at Warriors Super Edition: Firestar’s Quest

Sneak peek at Warriors Super Edition: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Sneak peek at Warriors Super Edition: SkyClan’s Destiny

Sneak peek at Warriors Super Edition: Crookedstar’s Promise

Complete Warriors Title List

Back ad: Enter the World of Warriors

About the Author

Other Books by Erin Hunter

About the Publisher

Omen of the Stars
Warriors
The Fourth Apprentice

Erin Hunter

ALLEGIANCES

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER

FIRESTAR—ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt

DEPUTY

BRAMBLECLAW—dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

MEDIGINE GAT

JAYFEATHER—gray tabby tom

WARRIORS

(toms and she-cats without kits)

GRAYSTRIPE—long-haired gray tom

DUSTPELT—dark brown tabby tom

SANDSTORM—pale ginger she-cat with green eyes

BRACKENFUR—golden brown tabby tom

SORRELTAIL—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes

CLOUDTAIL—long-haired white tom with blue eyes

BRIGHTHEART—white she-cat with ginger patches

THORNCLAW—golden brown tabby torm APPRENTICE, BRIARPAW

SQUIRRELFLIGHT—dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

LEAFPOOL—light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes, former medicine cat

SPIDERLEG—long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes

BIRCHFALL—light brown tabby tom

BERRYNOSE—cream-colored tom

HAZELTAIL—small gray-and-white she-cat
APPRENTICE, BLOSSOMPAW

MOUSEWHISKER—gray-and-white tom
APPRENTICE, BUMBLEPAW

CINDERHEART—gray tabby she-cat

LIONBLAZE—golden tabby tom

FOXLEAP—reddish tabby tom

ICECLOUD—white she-cat

TOADSTEP—black-and-white tom

ROSEPETAL—dark cream she-cat

APPRENTICES

(more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

BRIARRAW—dark brown she-cat

BLOSSOMPAW—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

BUMBLEPAW—very pale gray tom with black stripes

QUEENS

(she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

FERNCLOUD—pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat with green eyes

DAISY—cream long-furred cat from the

WHITEWING—white she-cat with green eyes, mother of Birchfall’s kits: Dovekit (gray she-cat) and Ivvkit (white tabby she–cat)

POPPYFROST—tortoiseshell she-cat, expecting Berrynose’s kits

ELDERS

(former warriors and queens, now retired)

LONGTAIL—pale tabby tom with dark black stripes, retired early due to failing sight

MOUSEFUR—small dusky brown she-cat

PURDY—plump tabby former loner with a gray muzzle

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER

BLACKSTAR—large white tom with huge jet black paws

DEPUTY

RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat

MEDICINE CAT

LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom
APPRENTICE, FLAMETAIL (ginger tom)

WARRIORS

OAKFUR—small brown tom

APPRENTICE, FERRETPAW (cream-and-gray tom)

ROWANCLAW—ginger tom

SMOKEFOOT—black tom

TOADFOOT—dark brown tom

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

CROWFROST—black-and-white tom

RATSCAR—brown tom with long scar across his back

APPRENTICE, PINEPAW (black she-cat)

SNOWBIRD—pure-white she-cat

TAWNYPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICE, STARLINGPAW (ginger tom)

OLIVENOSE—tortoiseshell she-cat

OWLCLAW—light brown tabby tom

SHREWFOOT—gray she-cat with black feet

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

TIGERHEART—dark brown tabby tom

DAWNPELT—cream-furred she-cat

QUEENS

KINKFUR—tabby she-cat with long fur that sticks out at all angles

IVYTAIL—black, white, and tortoiseshell she-cat

ELDERS

CEDARHEART—dark gray tom

TALLPOPPY—long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

SNAKETAIL—dark brown tom with tabby-striped tail

WHITEWATER—white she-cat with long fur, blind in one eye

WINDCLAN

LEADER

ONESTAR—brown tabby tom

DEPUTY

ASHFOOT—gray she-cat

MEDICINE CAT

KESTRELFLIGHT—mottled gray tom

WARRIORS

CROWFEATHER—dark gray tom

OWLWHISKER—light brown tabby torn
APPRENTICE, WHISKERPAW (lightbrown tom)

WHITETAIL—small white she-cat

NIGHTCLOUD—black she-cat

GORSETAIL—very pale gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

WEASELFUR—ginger tom with white paws

HARESPRING—brown-and-white tom

LEAFTAIL—dark tabby tom with amber eyes

ANTPELT—brown tom with one black ear

EMBERFOOT—gray tom with two dark paws

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

APPRENTICE, FURZEPAW (gray-and-white she-cat)

BREEZEPELT—black tom with amber eyes APPRENTICE, BOULDERPAW (large pale gray tom)

SEDGEWHISKER—light brown tabby she-cat

SWALLOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

SUNSTRIKE—tortoiseshell she-cat with large white mark on her forehead

ELDERS

WEBFOOT—dark gray tabby tom

TORNEAR—tabby tom

RIVERCLAN

LEADER

LEOPARDSTAR—unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat

DEPUTY

MISTYFOOT—gray she-cat with blue eyes

MEDICINE CAT

MOTHWING—dappled golden she-cat
APPRENTICE, WILLOWSHINE (gray tabby she-cat)

WARRIORS

REEDWHISKER—black torn
APPRENTICE, HOLLOWPAW (dark brown tabby tom)

RIPPLETAIL—dark gray tabby tom

GRAYMIST—pale gray tabby she-cat
APPRENTICE, TROUTPAW (pale gray tabby she-cat)

MINTFUR—light gray tabby tom

ICEWING—white she-cat with blue eyes

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat
APPRENTICE, MOSSYPAW (brown-and-white she-cat)

PEBBLEFOOT—mottled gray tom
APPRENTICE, RUSHPAW (light brown tabby tom)

MALLOWNOSE—light brown tabby tom

ROBINWING—tortoiseshell-and-white tom

BEETLEWHISKER—brown-and-white tabby tom

PETALFUR—gray-and-white she-cat

GRASSPELT—light brown tom

QUEENS

DUSKFUR—brown tabby she-cat

MOSSPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

ELDERS

BLACKCLAW—smoky black tom

VOLETOOTH—small brown tabby tom

DAWNFLOWER—pale gray she-cat

DAPPLENOSE—mottled gray she-cat

POUNCETAIL—ginger-and-white tom

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

SMOKY—muscular gray-and-white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace

FLOSS—small gray-and-white she-cat who lives at the horseplace

OTHER ANIMALS

MIDNIGHT—a star-gazing badger who lives by the sea

Map

PROLOGUE

Water poured over the lip of the rock in a smooth curve and roared down into a chasm. Far below, it tumbled and foamed into a pool. The rays of the setting sun set a myriad of trapped rainbows dancing in the spray.

Three cats sat on the edge of the river just upstream of the waterfall. They watched as a fourth cat approached, stalking delicately across the shaggy moss that covered the riverbank. Starlight sparkled at her paws and misted on her gray-blue fur.

The newcomer halted and raked the waiting cats with an icy blue stare. “In the name of all Clans, why did you choose to meet here?” she demanded, irritably shaking one forepaw. “It’s far too wet, and I can’t hear myself think.”

Another she-cat, with ragged gray fur, rose to face her. “Stop complaining, Bluestar. I chose this place because it’s damp and noisy. I have things to say that I don’t want any other cat to overhear.”

A golden tabby tom beckoned with his tail. “Come and sit by me. There’s a dry spot just here.”

Bluestar padded across to him and sat down with a contemptuous sniff. “If this is dry, Lionheart, then I’m a mouse.” Turning to the gray she-cat, she added, “Well, Yellowfang? What is it?”

“The prophecy has not been fulfilled,” Yellowfang meowed. “The Three have come together at last, but two of the cats might not recognize the third.”

“Are you sure we’ve got the right Three this time?” Bluestar asked sharply.

“You know we have.” The speaker, a beautiful tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, dipped her head gently toward the cat who had been her Clan leader. “Didn’t we all have the same dream on the night the One was born?”

Bluestar flicked the tip of her tail. “You could be right, Spottedleaf. But so much has gone wrong that it’s hard to trust anything now.”

“Of course she’s right.” Yellowfang twitched her ears. “But if Jayfeather and Lionblaze don’t recognize the One, there could be more trouble. I want to send them a sign.”

“What?” Bluestar rose to her paws again, waving her tail commandingly as if she still held authority over the old medicine cat. “Yellowfang, have you forgotten that this prophecy isn’t even ours? It could be dangerous to interfere with it. I think we should leave it alone.”

Spottedleaf blinked, puzzled. “Dangerous?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to have cats in the Clans who are more powerful than the stars?” Bluestar challenged, facing each cat in turn. “More powerful than us, their warrior ancestors?” She swept her tail in a gesture to include her unseen Clanmates, who were elsewhere in the beautiful, prey-filled forest. “What will become of ThunderClan if—”

“Have faith, Bluestar,” Lionheart interrupted gently. “These are good and loyal cats.”

“We thought that about Hollyleaf!” Bluestar retorted.

“We won’t be wrong again,” Yellowfang mewed. “Wherever the prophecy came from, we have to trust it. And we have to trust our Clanmates beside the lake.”

Spottedleaf opened her jaws to speak, only to turn sharply at the sound of another cat brushing through the undergrowth a few fox-lengths farther upstream. A silver-furred she-cat burst out into the open and raced toward them, starlight swirling around her.

“Feathertail!” Bluestar exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Are you spying on us?”

“We’re all Clanmates now,” the former RiverClan warrior reminded her. “I guessed why you were meeting, and—”

“This is ThunderClan business, Feathertail,” Yellowfang pointed out, with just a hint of her sharp yellow teeth.

“No, it’s not!” Feathertail flashed back at her. “Jayfeather and Lionblaze are half WindClan—Crowfeather’s sons.” Her blue eyes filled with distress. “I care about what happens to them. I have to watch over them. And I grieve for Hollyleaf just as much as you do.”

Spottedleaf stretched out her tail to touch the silver she-cat on the shoulder. “She’s right. Let her stay.”

Yellowfang shrugged. “They aren’t your sons, Feathertail,” she cautioned with unexpected gentleness. “We can warn them and guide them, but in the end they will go their own way.”

“All sons and daughters do that, Yellowfang,” Bluestar commented.

For a few heartbeats Yellowfang’s expression darkened, and her amber gaze was fixed on the distance, as if she saw a lifetime of painful memories sketched in the sky. The sun was slipping down below the horizon, the red-streaked clouds fading to indigo. In the pool below the waterfall, the whirling foam shone pale in the shadows.

“So what do we do now?” Lionheart prompted. “Yellowfang, you mentioned sending a sign.”

“I still think we shouldn’t get involved,” Bluestar insisted before Yellowfang could reply. “The third cat is already strong and clever, even if we don’t know what her special power will be. If she’s the right one, won’t she figure everything out by herself?”

“We can’t sit by and do nothing!” Feathertail protested, sinking her claws into the damp ground. “These young cats need our help.”

“I think so, too,” Lionheart agreed with a nod toward the silver she-cat. “If we had meddled more”—he glanced at Bluestar—“Hollyleaf might not have been lost.”

Bluestar’s neck fur bristled. “Hollyleaf made her own choices. These cats have to live their own lives. No cat can do it for them.”

“No, but we can guide them,” Spottedleaf meowed. “I agree with Yellowfang. I think we should send a sign.”

“I can see you’ve all made up your minds.” Bluestar sighed, letting her neck fur lie flat again. “Very well, do what you wish.”

“I will send an Omen.” Yellowfang bowed her head; briefly the other cats saw beyond her matted fur and brusque manner to the deep wisdom of the medicine cat she had once been. “An Omen of the Stars.”

“Which cat will you send it to?” Bluestar asked. “Lionblaze or Jayfeather?”

Yellowfang’s amber gaze glowed in the last of the light as she turned toward her former Clan leader. “Neither,” she meowed. “I will send it to the third cat.”

CHAPTER 1

A full moon floated in a cloudless sky, casting thick black shadows across the island. The leaves of the Great Oak rustled in a hot breeze. Crouched between Sorreltail and Graystripe, Lionblaze felt as though he couldn’t get enough air.

“You’d think it would be cooler at night,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Graystripe sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the dry, powdery soil. “This season just gets hotter and hotter. I can’t even remember when it last rained.”

Lionblaze stretched up to peer over the heads of the other cats at his brother, Jayfeather, who was sitting with the medicine cats. Onestar had just reported the death of Barkface, and Kestrelflight, the remaining WindClan medicine cat, looked rather nervous to be representing his Clan alone for the first time.

“Jayfeather says StarClan hasn’t told him anything about the drought,” Lionblaze mewed to Graystripe. “I wonder if any of the other medicine cats—”

He broke off as Firestar, the leader of ThunderClan, rose to his paws on the branch where he had been sitting while he waited for his turn to speak. RiverClan’s leader, Leopardstar, glanced up from the branch just below, where she was crouching. Onestar, the leader of WindClan, was perched in the fork of a bough a few tail-lengths higher, while ShadowClan’s leader, Blackstar, was visible just as a gleam of eyes among the clustering leaves above Onestar’s branch.

“Like every other Clan, ThunderClan is troubled by the heat,” Firestar began. “But we are coping well. Two of our apprentices have been made into warriors and received their warrior names: Toadstep and Rosepetal.”

Lionblaze sprang to his paws. “Toadstep! Rosepetal!” he yowled. The rest of ThunderClan joined in, along with several cats from WindClan and ShadowClan, though Lionblaze noticed that the RiverClan warriors were silent, looking on with hostility in their eyes.

Who ruffled their fur? he wondered. It was mean-spirited for a whole Clan to refuse to greet a new warrior at a Gathering. He twitched his ears. He wouldn’t forget this the next time Leopardstar announced a new RiverClan appointment.

The two new ThunderClan warriors ducked their heads in embarrassment, though their eyes shone as they were welcomed by the Clans. Cloudtail, Toadstep’s former mentor, was puffed up with pride, while Squirrelflight, who had mentored Rosepetal, watched the young warriors with gleaming eyes.

“I’m still surprised Firestar picked Squirrelflight to be a mentor,” Lionblaze muttered to himself. “After she told all those lies about us being her kits.”

“Firestar knows what he’s doing,” Graystripe responded; Lionblaze winced as he realized the gray warrior had overheard every word of his criticism. “He trusts Squirrelflight, and he wants to show every cat that she’s a good warrior and a valued member of ThunderClan.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lionblaze blinked miserably. He had loved and respected Squirrelflight so much when he thought she was his mother, but now he felt cold and empty when he looked at her. She had betrayed him, and his littermates, too deeply for forgiveness. Hadn’t she?

“If you’ve quite finished…” Leopardstar spoke over the last of the yowls of welcome and rose to her paws, fixing Firestar with a glare. “RiverClan still has a report to make.”

Firestar dipped his head courteously to the RiverClan leader and took a pace back, sitting down again with his tail wrapped around his paws. “Go ahead, Leopardstar.”

The RiverClan leader was the last to speak at the Gathering; Lionblaze had seen her tail twitching impatiently while the other leaders made their reports. Now her piercing gaze traveled across the cats crowded together in the clearing, while her neck fur bristled in fury.

“Prey-stealers!” she hissed.

“What?” Lionblaze sprang to his paws; his startled yowl was lost in the clamor as more cats from ThunderClan, WindClan, and ShadowClan leaped up to protest.

Leopardstar stared down at them, teeth bared, making no attempt to quell the tumult. Instinctively Lionblaze glanced upward, but there were no clouds to cover the moon; StarClan wasn’t showing any anger at the outrageous accusation. As if any of the other Clans would want to steal slimy, stinky fish!

He noticed for the first time how thin the RiverClan leader looked, her bones sharp as flint beneath her dappled fur. The other RiverClan warriors were the same, Lionblaze realized, glancing around; even thinner than his own Clanmates and the ShadowClan warriors—and even thinner than the WindClan cats, who looked skinny when they were full-fed.

“They’re starving…” he murmured.

“We’re all starving,” Graystripe retorted.

Lionblaze let out a sigh. What the gray warrior said was true. In ThunderClan they had been forced to hunt and train at dawn and dusk in order to avoid the scorching heat of the day. In the hours surrounding sunhigh, the cats spent their time curled up sleeping in the precious shade at the foot of the walls of the stone hollow. For once the Clans were at peace, though Lionblaze suspected it was only because they were all too weak to fight, and no Clan had any prey worth fighting for.

Firestar rose to his paws again and raised his tail for silence. The caterwauling gradually died away and the cats sat down again, directing angry glares at the RiverClan leader.

“I’m sure you have good reason for accusing us all like that,” Firestar meowed when he could make himself heard. “Would you like to explain?”

Leopardstar lashed her tail. “You have all been taking fish from the lake,” she snarled. “And those fish belong to RiverClan.”

“No, they don’t,” Blackstar objected, poking his head out from the foliage. “The lake borders all our territories. We’re just as entitled to the fish as you are.”

“Especially now,” Onestar added. “We’re all suffering from the drought. Prey is scarce in all our territories. If we can’t eat fish, we’ll starve.”

Lionblaze stared at the two leaders in astonishment. Were ShadowClan and WindClan really so hungry that they’d been adding fish to their fresh-kill pile? Things must be really bad.

“But it’s worse for us,” Leopardstar insisted. “RiverClan doesn’t eat any other kind of prey, so all the fish should belong to us.”

“That’s mouse-brained!” Squirrelflight sprang to her paws, her bushy tail lashing. “Are you saying that RiverClan can’t eat any other prey? Are you admitting that your warriors are so incompetent they can’t even catch a mouse?”

“Squirrelflight.” Brambleclaw, the ThunderClan deputy, spoke commandingly as he rose from the oak root where he had been sitting with the other Clan deputies. His voice was coldly polite as he continued. “It’s not your place to speak here. However,” he added, looking up at Leopardstar, “she does have a point.”

Lionblaze winced at Brambleclaw’s tone, and he couldn’t repress a twinge of sympathy for Squirrelflight as she sat down again, her head bent like an apprentice scolded in public by her mentor. Even after six moons, two whole seasons, Brambleclaw had not forgiven his former mate for claiming her sister Leafpool’s kits as her own—and therefore his as well. Lionblaze still felt dazed whenever he reminded himself that Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight were not his real mother and father. He and his brother, Jayfeather, were the kits of the former ThunderClan medicine cat, Leafpool, and Crowfeather, a WindClan warrior. Since the truth came out, Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight had barely spoken to each other, and although Brambleclaw never punished Squirrelflight by giving her the hardest tasks or the most dangerous patrols, he made sure that their paths never crossed as they carried out their duties.

Squirrelflight’s lie had been bad enough, but everything went wrong when she admitted what she had done. She had told the truth in a desperate attempt to save her kits from Ashfur’s murderous fury at being passed over in favor of Brambleclaw, moons before Lionblaze and his littermates were born. Lionblaze’s and Jayfeather’s sister, Hollyleaf, had killed Ashfur to prevent him from revealing the secret at a Gathering. Then Hollyleaf vanished behind a fall of earth when she tried to escape through the tunnels to start a new life. Now the brothers had to accept that they were half-Clan, and that their father, Crowfeather, wanted nothing to do with them. And, on top of that, there were still suspicious looks from some of their own Clanmates, which made Lionblaze’s pelt turn hot with rage.

As if we’re suddenly going to turn disloyal because we’ve found out our father is a WindClan warrior! Who’d want to join those scrawny rabbit-munchers?

Lionblaze watched Jayfeather, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. His brother’s sightless blue eyes were turned toward Brambleclaw, and his ears were alert, but it was hard to tell what was going through his mind. To Lionblaze’s relief, the rest of the cats seemed too intent on what Leopardstar was saying to pay any attention to the rift between Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight.

“The fish in the lake belong to RiverClan,” Leopardstar went on, her voice thin and high-pitched like wind through the reeds. “Any cat who tries to take them will feel our claws. From now on, I will instruct our border patrols to include the area around the water on every side.”

“You can’t do that!” Blackstar shouldered his way out of the leaves and leaped down to a lower branch, from where he could glare threateningly at Leopardstar. “Territories have never been extended into the lake.”

Lionblaze pictured the lake as it had been, its waves lapping gently against grassy banks with only narrow strips of sand and pebbles here and there on the shore. Now the water had shrunk away into the middle, leaving wide stretches of mud that dried and cracked in the merciless greenleaf sun. Surely Leopardstar didn’t want to claim those barren spaces as RiverClan territory?

“If any RiverClan patrols set paw on our territory,” Onestar growled, baring his teeth, “they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

“Leopardstar, listen.” Lionblaze could tell that Firestar was trying hard to stay calm, even though the fur on his neck and shoulders was beginning to fluff up. “If you carry on like this, you’re going to cause a war between the Clans. Cats will be injured. Haven’t we got troubles enough without going to look for more?”

“Firestar’s right,” Sorreltail murmured into Lionblaze’s ear. “We should be trying to help one another, not fluffing up our fur ready for a fight.”

Leopardstar crouched down as if she wanted to leap at the other leaders, letting out a wordless snarl and sliding out her claws.

This is a time of truce! Lionblaze thought, his eyes stretching wide in dismay. A Clan leader attacking another cat at a Gathering? It can’t happen!

Firestar had tensed, bracing himself in case Leopardstar hurled herself at him. Instead she jumped down to the ground with a furious hiss, waving her tail for her warriors to gather around her.

“Stay away from our fish!” she spat as she led the way through the bushes that surrounded the clearing, toward the tree-bridge that led off the island. Her Clanmates followed her, shooting hostile looks at the other three Clans as they passed them. Murmurs of speculation and comment broke out as they left, but then Firestar’s voice rang with authority above the noise.

“The Gathering is at an end! We must return to our territories until the next full moon. May StarClan light our paths!”

Lionblaze padded just behind his leader as the ThunderClan cats trekked around the edge of the lake toward their own territory. The water was barely visible, just a silver glimmer in the distance; pale moonlight reflected from the surface of the drying mud. Lionblaze wrinkled his nose at the smell of rotting fish.

If their prey stinks like that, RiverClan can have it!

Ahead of him, Brambleclaw trudged along next to Firestar, with Dustpelt and Ferncloud on the Clan leader’s other side.

“What are we going to do?” the deputy asked. “Leopardstar will send out her patrols. What happens when we find them on our territory?”

Firestar twitched his ears. “We need to deal with this carefully,” he meowed. “Is the bottom of the lake our territory? We would never have thought of claiming it when it was covered with water.”

Dustpelt snorted. “If the dry land borders our territory, it’s ours now. RiverClan has no rights to hunt or patrol there.”

“But they look so hungry,” Ferncloud mewed gently. “And ThunderClan never took fish from the lake anyway. Can’t we let them have it?”

Dustpelt touched his nose briefly to his mate’s ear. “Prey is scarce for us, too,” he reminded her.

“We will not attack RiverClan warriors,” Firestar decided. “Not unless they set paw on the ThunderClan territory within our scent marks—three tail-lengths from the shore, as we agreed when we came here. Brambleclaw, make sure that the patrols understand that when you send them out tomorrow.”

“Of course, Firestar,” the deputy replied, with a wave of his tail.

Lionblaze’s pelt prickled. Even though he respected Firestar’s conclusion because he was the Clan leader, Lionblaze wasn’t sure that he had made the right decision this time. Won’t RiverClan think we’re weak if we let them come around our side of the lake?

He jumped at the flick of a tail on his haunches and glanced around to see that Jayfeather had caught up to him.

“Leopardstar’s got bees in her brain,” his brother announced. “She’ll never get away with this. Sooner or later, cats will get clawed.”

“I know.” Curiously, Lionblaze added, “I heard some ShadowClan cats at the Gathering saying that Leopardstar lost two lives recently. Is it true?”

Jayfeather gave him a curt nod. “Yes.”

“She never announced it,” Lionblaze commented.

Jayfeather halted, giving his brother a look of such sharp intelligence that Lionblaze found it hard to believe that his brilliant blue eyes couldn’t see anything. “Come on, Lionblaze. When does a Clan leader ever announce they’ve lost a life? It would make them sound weak. Cats don’t necessarily know how many lives their own leader has left.”

“I suppose so,” Lionblaze admitted, padding on.

“Leopardstar lost a life from a thorn scratch that got infected,” Jayfeather continued. “And then straight after that she caught some kind of illness that made her terribly thirsty and weak, too. She couldn’t even walk as far as the stream to get a drink.”

“Mothwing and Willowshine told you all that?” Lionblaze asked, aware that medicine cats would confide in one another without thinking of the Clan rivalries that made warriors wary of saying too much.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” Jayfeather retorted. “I know, that’s all.”

Lionblaze suppressed a shiver. Even though he knew that Jayfeather’s powers came from the prophecy, it still bothered him that his brother padded down paths that no cat, not even another medicine cat, had ever trodden before. Jayfeather knew things without being told—not even by StarClan. He could walk in other cats’ dreams and learn their deepest secrets.

“I guess that’s why Leopardstar is making such a nuisance of herself about the fish,” Lionblaze murmured, pushing his uneasiness away. “She wants to prove to her Clan that she’s still strong.”

“She’s going about it the wrong way,” Jayfeather stated flatly. “She should know that she can’t make the other Clans follow her orders. RiverClan will be worse off in the end than if they’d just struggled through the drought on their own territory, like the rest of us.”

They were approaching the stream that marked the border between WindClan and ThunderClan. The water that had spilled into the lake with a rush and a gurgle just last newleaf had dwindled to a narrow stream of green slime, easily leaped over. Lionblaze drew a breath of relief as he plunged into the undergrowth beyond, under the familiar trees of his own territory.

“Maybe it’ll all blow over,” he meowed hopefully. “Leopardstar might see sense when she thinks about what the other leaders told her at the Gathering.”

Jayfeather let out a contemptuous snort. “Hedgehogs will fly before Leopardstar backs down. No, Lionblaze, the only thing that will solve our problem is for the lake to fill up again.”

Lionblaze was padding through long, lush grass, his paws sinking into water at every step. A cool breeze ruffled his fur. Any moment now, he could put down his head and drink as much as he wanted, relieving the thirst that burned inside him like a thorn. A vole popped out of the reed bed in front of him, but before Lionblaze could leap on it, something hard poked him in the side. He woke up to find himself in his nest in the warriors’ den, with Cloudtail standing over him. His fur felt sticky, and the air smelled of dust.

“Wake up,” the white warrior meowed, giving Lionblaze another prod. “What are you, a dormouse?”

“Did you have to do that?” Lionblaze complained. “I was having this really great dream….”

“And now you can go on a really great water patrol.” Cloudtail’s tone was unsympathetic. Since the streams that fed the lake had dried up, the only source of water was the shallow, brackish pool in the middle of the lake bed. Patrols went down several times a day to collect water for the Clan, in addition to hunting and patrolling as usual. The greenleaf nights seemed shorter than ever when every cat was tired out from extra duties.

Lionblaze’s jaws gaped in an enormous yawn. “Okay, I’m coming.”

He followed Cloudtail out of the den, shaking scraps of moss from his pelt. The sky was pale with the first light of dawn, and although the sun had not yet risen the air was hot and heavy. Lionblaze groaned inwardly at the thought of yet another dry, scorching day.

Hazeltail, her apprentice, Blossompaw, Berrynose, and Icecloud were sitting outside the den; they rose to their paws as Cloudtail appeared with Lionblaze. None of them had been to the Gathering the night before, but Lionblaze could tell from their tense expressions that they knew about Leopardstar’s threats.

“Let’s go.” Cloudtail waved his tail toward the thorn tunnel.

As Lionblaze padded through the forest behind the white warrior, he overheard Berrynose boasting to Icecloud: “RiverClan had better not mess with us when we get to the lake. I’ll teach any cat not to get in my fur.”

Icecloud murmured something in reply that Lionblaze didn’t catch. Berrynose thinks he’s so great, he thought. But it’s mouse-brained to go looking for trouble when none of us is strong enough for a battle.

To his relief, Cloudtail took his patrol to the foot of a huge oak tree and instructed them to collect bundles of moss to soak in the lake. Berrynose couldn’t go on telling Icecloud what a fantastic warrior he was when his jaws were stuffed with fluffy green stalks.

When they reached the lake, Cloudtail paused briefly at the edge, gazing out across the lake bottom. It looked dry and powdery near the bank, with jagged cracks stretching across it; farther out it glistened in the pale light of dawn. As he tried to work out where the mud ended and the water began, Lionblaze spotted the tiny figures of four cats, far out across the mud. He set down his bundle of moss and tasted the air; the faint scent of RiverClan wafted toward him, mingled with the familiar stink of dead fish.

“Now listen,” Cloudtail began, setting down his own bundle. “RiverClan can’t object to us taking water, and Firestar has already said that he doesn’t want any fighting. Have you got that, Berrynose?” He gave the younger warrior a hard stare.

Reluctantly Berrynose nodded. “’Kay,” he mumbled around his mouthful of moss.

“Make sure you don’t forget.” With a final glare Cloudtail led his patrol out across the mud toward the distant lake.

The surface of the mud was hard at first, but as the patrol drew closer to the water Lionblaze found his paws sinking in at every step. “This is disgusting,” he muttered, his words muffled by the moss as he tried to shake off the sticky, pale brown blobs. “I’ll never get clean again.”

As they approached the water’s edge, he saw that the RiverClan cats had clustered together and were waiting for them, blocking their way: Reedwhisker and Graymist, with Otterheart and her apprentice, Sneezepaw. They all looked thin and exhausted, but their eyes glittered with hostility and their fur was bristling as if they would leap into battle for a couple of mousetails.

Reedwhisker stepped forward. “Have you forgotten what Leopardstar told you at the Gathering last night?” he challenged. “The fish in the lake belong to RiverClan.”

“We’re not here to fish,” Cloudtail replied calmly, setting down his moss. “We only want water. You’re not going to deny us that, are you?”

“Are there no streams in your territory?” Graymist demanded.

“The streams have dried up, as you know very well.” Lionblaze saw the tip of Cloudtail’s tail twitch irritably as he answered; the fiery white warrior was finding it hard to control his temper. “We need water from the lake.”

“And we’ll take it whether you like it or not,” Berrynose added, dropping his moss and taking a threatening step forward.

Instantly the four RiverClan cats slid out their claws. “The lake belongs to us,” Otterheart hissed.

Blossompaw’s eyes stretched wide in dismay and Hazeltail stepped forward, thrusting her apprentice behind her. Lionblaze braced himself and unsheathed his claws, ready to spring.

Cloudtail whipped around to face his patrol. “Keep your jaws shut!” he ordered Berrynose.

“Are you going to let them talk to us like that?” Berrynose challenged. “I’m not scared of them, even if you are.”

Cloudtail stepped forward until he was nose to nose with the younger warrior, his eyes like chips of ice. “One more word and you’ll be searching the elders for ticks for the next moon. Understand?”

Lionblaze felt a tingle of shock run beneath his fur. Cloudtail was brisk at the best of times, but he’d never seen him this angry at one of his own Clanmates. It was as if collecting water was the most important thing in the world to Cloudtail—and maybe it was, with his Clan weakened by thirst and getting weaker. Lionblaze wondered what would happen if RiverClan succeeded in preventing the other Clans from getting near the water. Would three of the four Clans die out?

Not waiting for Berrynose’s response, Cloudtail swung around and addressed the RiverClan cats again. “I apologize for my warrior,” he meowed. His voice was tight; Lionblaze could tell what an effort he was making to stay polite. “I think he must have caught a touch of the sun. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d let us take some water.”

For a heartbeat Reedwhisker paused. Lionblaze felt his paws itch with the urge to spring into battle. Cloudtail had warned them that they were too weak to fight, but he didn’t know that Lionblaze was one of the Three and had the power to fight the fiercest battles without getting a single scratch. But I know we’ve got problems enough without fighting one another.

Finally Reedwhisker stepped back, gesturing with his tail for the rest of his patrol to do the same. “Take water, but no fish,” he growled.

We’re not here for fish. How many more times will we have to tell you that? Lionblaze thought.

“Thank you.” Cloudtail dipped his head and padded up to the water’s edge. Lionblaze followed, aware of the hostile gaze of the RiverClan cats boring into his back, watching his every move. His fury welled up again. This is just stupid! Do they think I can smuggle a fish out under my pelt?

He could see that his Clanmates were angry, too; Cloudtail’s tail-tip twitched and Berrynose’s eyes were blazing, though he had the sense to keep quiet. The she-cats’ fur was bristling, and they glared over their shoulders at the RiverClan cats as they padded past.

Lionblaze soaked his moss in the lake water and lapped up a few mouthfuls. It was warm and tasted of earth and weeds, hardly quenching his thirst. He forced himself to swallow, wincing as the gritty liquid slid down his throat. The sun had risen, its harsh rays slashing across the tops of the trees, and there was no sign of a cloud from one horizon to the other.

How much longer can we go on like this?

CHAPTER 2

Jayfeather picked through the herbs in the storage cave at the back of his den. The leaves and stems felt dry and crackly, and their scents were musty. I should be stocking up for leaf-fall, he thought. But how can I when there’s no fresh growth?

The pressure of being ThunderClan’s only medicine cat weighed like a stone in his belly. He remembered all the times he had grumbled about Leafpool telling him what to do. Now he wished that she had never resigned as a medicine cat and gone to live in the warriors’ den. What does it matter that she had kits? She still knows all about herbs, and what to do when a cat is injured.

His pelt prickled with the bitter memory of a few days ago, when Briarpaw had pelted into the camp and skidded to a halt in front of his den.

“Jayfeather!” she panted. “Come quick! Firestar’s hurt!”

“What? Where?”

“A fox got him!” The young apprentice’s voice was shaking with fear. “On the ShadowClan border, near the dead tree.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Inwardly Jayfeather felt just as scared, but he forced himself to sound confident. “Go find Leafpool and tell her.”

Briarpaw let out a startled gasp, but Jayfeather didn’t pause to ask why. Grabbing a few stems of horsetail, he raced out through the thorn tunnel and headed for the ShadowClan border. Only when he was already on his way did he remember that Leafpool wasn’t a medicine cat any longer.

Before he reached the dead tree, the scent of blood led him to his leader. Firestar was lying on his side in a clump of ferns, his breath coming harsh and shallow. Sandstorm and Graystripe were crouched over him while Thornclaw kept watch from the top of a tree stump.

“Thank StarClan!” Sandstorm exclaimed as Jayfeather dashed up. “Firestar, Jayfeather’s here. Just hold on.”

“What happened?” Jayfeather asked, running his paws gently over Firestar’s side. His belly lurched as he discovered a long gash with blood still pulsing out of it.

“We were patrolling, and a fox leaped out at us,” Graystripe replied. “We chased it off, but…” His voice choked.

“Find some cobwebs,” Jayfeather ordered. He began to chew up the horsetail to make a poultice. Where’s Leafpool? he asked himself in agony. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.

He patted the poultice onto the gash in his leader’s side, binding it with the cobwebs that Graystripe thrust into his paws, but before he had finished he heard Firestar’s breathing grow slower and slower, until at last it stopped.

“He’s losing a life,” Sandstorm whispered.

Jayfeather went on numbly fixing the poultice in place, so that when Firestar recovered he wouldn’t lose any more blood. The time seemed to stretch out unnaturally, and Jayfeather’s mind whirled as he tried to count up how many lives his leader had left.

That wasn’t his last life, was it? It couldn’t be!

He had almost given up hope, when Firestar gave a cough, his breathing started up again, and he raised his head. “Thanks, Jayfeather,” he mewed weakly. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine in a few heartbeats.”

But as Firestar set off back to camp, leaning on Graystripe’s shoulder, with Sandstorm padding along anxiously on his other side and Thornclaw bringing up the rear, Jayfeather hadn’t been able to forgive himself. I needed Leafpool, and she wasn’t here. His former mentor hadn’t appeared until they were within sight of the stone hollow. She had been hunting on the WindClan border, and it had taken Briarpaw all that time to find her.

“You did your best,” she reassured Jayfeather when he told her what had happened. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

But Jayfeather wasn’t convinced; he knew that Leafpool would have saved Firestar if she had been there.

My Clan leader lost a life because of me, he told himself bitterly. What sort of medicine cat does that make me?

Now he finished sorting through the herbs, picked up a mouthful of ragwort, and set off for the elders’ den. When he ducked under the outer boughs of the hazel bush, he found Mousefur curled up near the trunk, snoring gently, while Longtail and the old loner, Purdy, sat side by side in the shade of the rock wall.

“So this badger, see, was out lookin’ for trouble, an’ I tracked it—” Purdy broke off as Jayfeather entered the den. “Hello, young ’un! What can we do for you?”

“Eat these herbs.” Jayfeather dropped the stems and divided them carefully into three. “It’s ragwort; it’ll keep your strength up.”

He heard Purdy’s wheezing breath as the old loner padded up and prodded the herbs with one paw. “That stuff? Looks funny to me.”

“Never mind what it looks like,” Jayfeather hissed through gritted teeth. “Just eat it. You too, Longtail.”

“Okay.” The blind elder padded across and licked up the herbs. “Come on, Purdy,” he mewed through the mouthful. “You know they’ll do you good.” His voice was hoarse, and his paw steps were unsteady. Every hair on Jayfeather’s pelt prickled with anxiety. The whole Clan was hungry and thirsty, but Longtail seemed to be suffering particularly badly. Jayfeather suspected he was giving his share of water and food to Mousefur.

If I can get Purdy on his own, I’ll ask him.

Purdy grunted disbelievingly, but Jayfeather heard him chewing up the ragwort. “Tastes foul,” the old loner complained.

Jayfeather picked up the remaining herbs and padded across to Mousefur. The elder was already waking up, roused by the sound of voices. “What do you want?” she demanded. “Can’t a cat get any sleep around here?”

She sounded as cranky as ever, which reassured Jayfeather that at least she was managing to cope with the heat. When Mousefur sounds nice and sweet, I’ll really start worrying!

“Ragwort,” he meowed. “You need to eat it.”

Mousefur let out a sigh. “I suppose you’ll nag me until I do. Well, while I’m eating it, you can tell me what went on at the Gathering last night.”

Jayfeather waited until he heard the old cat beginning to nibble on the herbs, then launched into an account of the previous night’s Gathering.

“What?” Mousefur choked on a ragwort leaf when Jayfeather came to the point where Leopardstar had laid claim to the lake and all the fish. “She can’t do that!”

Jayfeather shrugged. “She’s done it. She said that RiverClan deserves to have all the fish because they can’t eat any other sort of prey.”

“And StarClan let her get away with it?” Mousefur hissed. “There were no clouds covering the moon?”

“If there had been, the Gathering would have broken up.”

“What are our warrior ancestors thinking?” Mousefur snarled. “How could they stand by and let that mange-ridden she-cat decide that no other Clans can use the lake?”

Jayfeather couldn’t answer her. He hadn’t received any signs from StarClan recently, not since the beginning of the hot weather. Leafpool would have heard from StarClan by now, he thought. They would have told her what to do to help the Clan.

Leaving Mousefur muttering darkly over the last of the ragwort, Jayfeather pushed his way out of the elders’ den and headed into the clearing. Passing the apprentices’ den, he picked up a couple of unexpected scents. “Now what’s going on?” he meowed irritably.

He padded across to the den and stuck his head through the bracken that covered the entrance. He could hear muffled whispering and rustling among the moss and bracken of the apprentices’ nests.

“Dovekit! Ivykit!” he growled. “Come out of there. You’re not apprentices yet.”

The two kits scampered out of the den, stifling mrrows of laughter as they halted beside Jayfeather and shook scraps of moss from their fur.

“We were only looking!” Dovekit protested. “We’ll be apprentices any day now, so we wanted to choose good places for our new nests.”

“Side by side,” Ivykit added. “We’re going to do all our training together.”

“That’s right,” Dovekit mewed. “And we’re never going on patrol with any other cats.”

Jayfeather let out a snort, not knowing whether he felt amused or frustrated. “In your dreams, kits. The other apprentices will tell you where you’re going to sleep. And your mentors will tell you when to patrol, and who to go with.”

The two kits were silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then Dovekit burst out, “We don’t care! Come on, Ivykit, let’s tell Whitewing that we looked in the den!”

Jayfeather stayed where he was for a moment as the two kits bundled off toward the nursery. There was an ache in his chest as he remembered when he had been a kit and believed he had a mother to boast to. Now he only had Leafpool.

As though the thought had called her up, his real mother’s scent drifted toward him as she emerged from the thorn tunnel with the rest of a hunting patrol. Tasting the air, Jayfeather could tell that Dustpelt, Brackenfur, and even the apprentice Bumblepaw were carrying fresh-kill, but Leafpool had nothing.

Jayfeather’s lip curled into a sneer. All she’s caught is fleas! She’s a medicine cat, not a warrior. She should be helping me, not trying to pretend that her entire history vanished on the day the truth came out.

He heard Leafpool’s paw steps padding toward him, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He turned his head away, and felt her sadness as she passed him. She didn’t try to speak, but he could pick up her loneliness and sense of defeat as sharply as if they were his own. It’s as if she’s given up every scrap of fight she ever had!

Jayfeather could sense the awkwardness of the rest of the patrol, too, as if they didn’t know how to treat Leafpool anymore. She had been their trusted medicine cat for so long that they didn’t want to punish her for loving a WindClan cat once, but it seemed as if they no longer knew how to treat her as a much-loved and loyal Clanmate.

The hunting patrol started to put their prey on the fresh-kill pile. Brightheart followed them in through the thorn tunnel; Jayfeather caught the tang of the yarrow she was carrying.

“That’s great, Brightheart,” he called. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find any, and we’re totally out.”

“There’re a few plants near the old Twoleg nest,” Brightheart mumbled around her mouthful of stems as she headed for the medicine cat’s den.

Many seasons ago, a former medicine cat, Cinderpelt, had taught Brightheart the basic uses of herbs and how to treat minor wounds and illnesses. Ever since Jayfeather had become the only ThunderClan medicine cat, Brightheart had been helping him by gathering herbs and dealing with straightforward injuries. He knew she could never be his real apprentice—she was older than him, and committed to being a warrior—but he was grateful for her support.

Besides, I don’t need to choose an apprentice yet. That was for older medicine cats; he felt countless moons stretching out ahead of him, thrumming beneath his paws like the ancient footprints he walked in by the Moonpool. And of course there was still the Prophecy to fulfill before it was his turn to join StarClan. There will be three…who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

The sun was well above the trees by now, beating down so that Jayfeather’s fur felt as if it were on fire. I can almost smell the smoke!

Then his nose twitched. The acrid scent tickling his nostrils really was smoke. His pelt prickling with fear, he tasted the air for a couple of heartbeats, just to be certain, and located the smell at the edge of the hollow, close to the elders’ den.

“Fire!” he yowled, launching himself toward the smell of burning.

Almost in the same heartbeat, he stumbled as Dovekit hurtled past him, her pelt brushing his as she raced out into the center of the clearing.

“Fire!” she screeched. “The Clan is on fire!”

Jayfeather was impressed that she had smelled the smoke so quickly. I thought my nose was the best in the Clan! But there was no time to think about that now. He had to find the fire and put it out before it spread to the rest of the camp.

More caterwauling broke out behind Jayfeather as he ran toward the hazel bush. He scented Brackenfur racing beside him and snapped, “Get the elders out of their den!”

The ginger warrior veered away to the entrance; Jayfeather raced on past the den, guided by the scent of smoke. As he drew closer to the rock wall he could hear the crackle of flames. A wave of heat rolled out to meet him and he halted. Frustration at his blindness swept over him, fierce as the fire. I don’t know where to attack it!

Then another cat shouldered him out of the way; Jayfeather picked up Graystripe’s scent, with Firestar and Squirrelflight just behind him.

“We need water,” the Clan leader mewed crisply. “Jayfeather, find some cats to go down to the lake.”

“That’ll take too long,” Graystripe yelped. “Kick dust on the fire, quick!”

Jayfeather heard the sound of vigorous scraping, but the smoke and flames didn’t die down. He turned away, about to obey Firestar’s order, when he heard the sound of several cats racing over toward the fire.

“Cloudtail! Lionblaze!” Firestar exclaimed. “Thank StarClan!”

Jayfeather picked up the scent of wet moss as his brother and several other cats brushed past him. There was a loud hissing sound, and the acrid smell of smoke suddenly became much stronger. It caught in his throat and he retreated, coughing.

Moments later, Lionblaze joined him. “That was close!” he panted. “If we hadn’t come just then, the whole camp could have caught fire.”

“You’re sure the fire’s out?” Jayfeather asked, blinking eyes that stung from the smoke.

“Firestar is checking.” Lionblaze let out a long sigh. “And now I suppose we’ll have to go get more water. I just hope the RiverClan cats have gone.”

“RiverClan?” Jayfeather felt his neck fur begin to bristle.

“There was a patrol out there when we arrived,” Lionblaze explained. “We nearly had to fight for a few mouthfuls of water. If the RiverClan cats are still there, they certainly won’t welcome us back.” His voice grew heavy with anger. “They looked as if they were counting every drop!”

Jayfeather’s tail drooped as he stood beside his brother among the sooty remnants of the fire. Around him, cats were beginning to carry the burnt debris out of the camp; the sharp scent made him cough again.

Will the end of the Clans be like this? he wondered. Just like the lake is shrinking? So ordinary, and frustrating, and so bitterly, painfully slow?

Lionblaze touched his nose to Jayfeather’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Remember, we will be Three again,” he murmured. “Whitewing’s kits are Firestar’s kin, too.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “How can we be sure? Why hasn’t StarClan sent us a sign?”

“We don’t know that the prophecy came from them in the first place,” his brother pointed out.

“But they—”

A loud yowl from across the clearing interrupted what Jayfeather was about to say. “Hey, Jayfeather!”

Jayfeather’s whiskers twitched as he recognized the voice of the most annoying cat in the Clan. “What is it now, Berrynose?” he asked with a sigh, heading in his direction.

Berrynose padded up to meet him; Jayfeather detected the scent of Poppyfrost just behind him.

“Poppyfrost is having kits,” the young warrior announced importantly. “My kits.”

“Congratulations,” Jayfeather murmured.

“I want you to tell her she’s got to rest and take care of herself,” Berrynose went on. “Having kits can be dangerous, right?”

“Well…sometimes,” Jayfeather admitted.

“Yeah, I heard that the kits can come too soon, or they can be weak, or—”

“Berrynose,” Poppyfrost interrupted; Jayfeather could pick up her distress as clearly as if she had caterwauled it to the whole camp. “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“Or the kits take too long in coming,” Berrynose finished, as if his mate hadn’t spoken.

“There can be problems, but…” Jayfeather padded forward until he could give Poppyfrost a good sniff. “She’s a healthy she-cat,” he went on. “There’s no reason she can’t carry on with her normal duties for now.”

“What?” Berrynose sounded outraged. “That’s not good enough! Poppyfrost, you go into the nursery right now, and let Ferncloud and Daisy take care of you.”

“Really, there’s no need—” Poppyfrost began, but Berrynose was already nudging her across the clearing toward the entrance to the nursery.

Jayfeather stood still as the sound of their paw steps retreated. Why consult a medicine cat if you’re not going to listen, mouse-brain?

Defeat suddenly flooded over Jayfeather like a huge wave. What was the point of having the power of the stars in his paws if even his own Clanmates didn’t listen to him? “I don’t know if we can do this on our own,” he murmured to himself. “Two or three of us…”

CHAPTER 3

Dovekit wriggled with excitement as Whitewing’s tongue rasped around her ears and down her neck.

“Keep still,” her mother scolded. “You can’t go to your apprentice ceremony looking as if you’ve been pulled through the thorn barrier backward!”

Ivykit glanced over her shoulder from where she was crouched at the entrance to the nursery. “The cats are gathering out there already,” she reported, her voice quivering with anticipation. “I think the whole Clan will come to see us become apprentices!”

Dovekit twisted away from her mother’s tongue and scampered over the mossy floor of the nursery to join her sister. “Let’s go!” she urged.

“It’s not time yet,” her mother told her. “We have to wait until Firestar calls the Clan together.”

“It won’t be long.” The gentle mew came from Daisy, the cat from the horseplace. Dovekit understood that Daisy would never be a warrior; she and Ferncloud both stayed in the nursery to help each new queen with her kits.

Now Daisy was curled up beside Poppyfrost, who had moved into the nursery two sunrises before, her belly gently rounded with Berrynose’s kits. Berrynose was Daisy’s son, so these kits would be Daisy’s kin too.

“Are you coming to see us made apprentices?” she asked the she-cats.

“Of course.” Poppyfrost heaved herself to her paws and gave herself a quick grooming to get rid of the scraps of moss that clung to her pelt. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Dovekit gave her shoulders another wriggle; she felt as if she couldn’t keep her paws still for another heartbeat. She was so excited that she could almost forget how thirsty she was. “I wonder who our mentors will be,” she meowed.

Before Ivykit could reply, Firestar’s flame-colored figure appeared on the Highledge and his voice rang out across the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting.”

Dovekit sprang up, ready to bounce out into the clearing, but her mother’s tail reached out to hold her back. “Not yet,” Whitewing murmured. “And you will walk out there like a sensible apprentice, not a little kit who doesn’t know how to behave.”

“Okay, okay,” Dovekit muttered, trying to force down her impatience.

Ivykit echoed her sister, then added, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh, no!” Dovekit let out a wail. What will the Clan think of us if Ivykit is sick at her apprentice ceremony?

“No, you’re not,” Whitewing mewed calmly. “You’ll both behave yourselves and make me proud of you. Look, your father’s come to get you.”

Birchfall had appeared at the entrance to the nursery, looking down at his daughters with glowing eyes. “Come along, the Clan is waiting for you,” he told them.

Ivykit sprang to her paws, and Dovekit flexed her claws while Whitewing gave her own pelt a quick grooming and came to join them. By this time the whole of ThunderClan had gathered in the clearing, beneath the Highledge. Dovekit felt the gaze of many eyes on her as she padded out of the nursery beside Ivykit, their mother and father following behind. Daisy, Ferncloud, and Poppyfrost brought up the rear, and sat down just outside the entrance.

Dovekit’s heart was thumping so hard that she thought it was going to burst out of her chest, but she kept her head and her tail held high.

“I just know I’ll forget what to do,” Ivykit muttered into her ear.

Dovekit brushed herself against her sister’s pelt. “You’ll be fine.”

Whitewing guided them toward the circle of waiting cats, who parted to let them in. Dovekit found herself standing between her sister and Squirrelflight, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“I’ve called you together for one of the most important moments in the life of a Clan,” Firestar began. “Dovekit and Ivykit have reached their sixth moon, and it’s time for them to become apprentices.” He beckoned with his tail. “Come forward.”

Dovekit wanted to do a big jump right into the middle of the circle, but at the last moment she remembered what her mother had told her and made herself walk slowly forward beside her sister.

“Dovekit,” Firestar meowed, “from this day until you receive your warrior name, you will be called Dovepaw.”

“Dovepaw!” The voices of her Clanmates rang out around her, making her pelt tingle as she heard her new name for the first time. “Dovepaw!”

“StarClan, I ask you to guide this new apprentice,” Firestar went on, gazing up at the hot blue sky above the hollow. “Set her paws on the path she must follow to become a warrior.”

Dovepaw suppressed a shiver as she thought of all the starry cats, her warrior ancestors, looking down on her as Firestar spoke to them.

“Lionblaze.” Firestar flicked his tail toward the golden tabby warrior who stood close to the tumbled rocks that led up to the Highledge. “You will be mentor to Dovepaw. You are a loyal warrior and your battle skills are outstanding. I know that you will pass these qualities on to Dovepaw.”

Lionblaze! Dovepaw’s heart lurched as she gazed across the clearing at the golden-furred tom. He’s a great cat—but what if he doesn’t like me?

She bounded over to him, anxiously looking up into his amber eyes. She was astonished and delighted to see how pleased he looked as he bent his head to touch noses with her.

“I’ll work really hard,” she promised him in a whisper.

“So will I,” Lionblaze replied. “We’ll make a great team.”

Dovepaw stood proudly beside him and listened as Firestar repeated the ceremony for her sister. Ivykit looked lonely and nervous all by herself in the middle of the circle of cats, but she kept her head up bravely, her gaze fixed on Firestar.

“Ivykit,” Firestar meowed, “from this day until you receive your warrior name, you will be called Ivypaw. May StarClan watch over you and guide you in your journey to become a warrior.” He paused for a heartbeat for the rest of the Clan to call Ivypaw by her new name, then swept his tail toward Cinderheart. “Cinderheart, you have shown courage and endurance in your apprenticeship, and I trust now that you will teach Ivypaw to follow in your path.”

A murmur of approval rose up from the surrounding cats as Ivypaw scampered across the clearing to touch noses with Cinderheart. The gray warrior’s blue eyes shone with joy as she welcomed her new apprentice.

“Dovepaw! Ivypaw!” the Clan called out.

Dovepaw felt as if she were about to burst with pride and happiness as her Clanmates crowded around to congratulate them both.

“What do we do now?” she asked Lionblaze eagerly.

“Nothing exciting, I’m afraid,” he replied with a twitch of his ears. “The Clan needs water. We have to collect some moss, and then go down to the lake to soak it.”

Dovepaw gave a little skip of excitement. “That’s great! I’ll get to see more of the territory.” Glancing around for her sister, she added, “Can Ivypaw and Cinderheart come with us?”

“Of course.” It was Cinderheart who replied, padding toward them with Ivypaw bouncing at her side. “But we have to watch out for RiverClan. They might try to cause trouble.”

“I thought RiverClan was on the other side of the lake?” Ivypaw asked, tipping her head on one side.

“Not anymore,” Lionblaze growled. “Let’s get going, and I’ll explain on the way.”

He led them through the thorn tunnel and headed in the direction of the lake. Dovepaw had never been more than a few fox-lengths outside the camp, but her excitement at seeing somewhere new was mixed with indignation at what Lionblaze and Cinderheart were telling them.

“But RiverClan can’t just take the lake like that!” she protested. “Can they?”

“Why doesn’t Firestar fight them?” Ivypaw mewed.

“Firestar doesn’t like to cause trouble,” Cinderheart explained. “He always tries to look for a solution that doesn’t involve fighting. That’s part of what makes him such a great leader.”

Dovepaw wasn’t sure that she understood. Even though she was only a new apprentice, she knew that Clans didn’t trespass on one another’s territory. That was part of the warrior code!

“Stick close to me and Cinderheart,” Lionblaze warned them. “And whatever happens, don’t mess with RiverClan.”

Just so long as they don’t mess with me or Ivypaw, Dovepaw thought.

Their mentors took them to the foot of a huge oak tree, where they collected balls of moss from the roots, and then onward to the lake. As they emerged from the trees onto the bank, Dovepaw’s mouth dropped open, letting her moss fall.

“I thought the lake was huge!” she gasped. “Not just that little bit of water right over there.” She felt a stab of disappointment. Why did the warriors make such a fuss about something that was not much bigger than a puddle?

“It usually comes right up to where we are now,” Lionblaze told her. He angled his ears forward to where a narrow strip of pebbles gave way to dried mud. “It’s only because of the drought that it’s shrunk so much.”

“The drought also means there haven’t been so many Twolegs around this greenleaf,” Cinderheart meowed. “So it isn’t all bad.” It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as much as the apprentices.

“What if the lake shrinks away altogether?” Ivypaw asked.

“It won’t,” Cinderheart stated, though the look she exchanged with Lionblaze told Dovepaw that she wasn’t completely certain. “It’s bound to rain soon.”

“Now that we’re here, you might as well learn something about the territories,” Lionblaze meowed. “This is ThunderClan territory, of course, and over there”—he swept his tail around in an arc—“is WindClan.”

Dovepaw’s gaze followed his pointing tail to where smooth grassy moorland swelled up to meet the sky. “There aren’t many trees for hunting in,” she remarked.

“No, WindClan cats like open spaces, so their territory’s perfect for them,” Cinderheart told her. “ShadowClan cats like pine trees, so they chose the territory over on that side.”

Dovepaw and Ivypaw both examined the dark line of trees that bordered the lake on the other side of ThunderClan. “I’m glad I’m not a ShadowClan cat,” Ivypaw mewed.

Dovepaw concentrated for a moment, trying to memorize everything that the scene in front of her could tell her. She could see a group of cats on the ShadowClan side, trekking across the barren ground toward the distant lake, and she drew in a long breath to taste their scent. On the WindClan side, cats were returning to the shore, and Dovepaw breathed in their scent, too.

“Ivypaw,” she whispered, flicking her sister over one ear with her tail, “you should be picking up the scents of those cats over there. It’s all stuff we need to know.”

“What?” Ivypaw gave her a puzzled look, but before Dovepaw could say any more, she was interrupted by a loud exclamation from Lionblaze.

“Now what’s happening?”

Dovepaw looked across the brittle brown mud and spotted a patrol of ThunderClan cats close to the water’s edge. They seemed to be struggling, their backs arched and tails thrashing in the air. A couple of heartbeats later one of the warriors began racing back to the shore; as he drew closer she recognized Thornclaw.

“Trouble?” Lionblaze called.

“Berrynose and Spiderleg are stuck in the mud,” Thornclaw panted, pausing briefly. “I need a branch or something to get them out.”

“We’ll come and help,” Cinderheart told him, with a whisk of her tail to beckon the two apprentices. “Come on, you two. Bring your moss, and watch where you’re putting your paws.”

As she led them out onto the mud, Dovepaw glanced back to see Thornclaw pull a long stick out from under the roots of an elder bush at the edge of the bank. Before he could carry it off, Jayfeather erupted from the undergrowth, a bundle of herbs in his jaws.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he protested, spitting leaves everywhere. “Put it back!”

“Are you mouse-brained?” Thornclaw mumbled around the stick. “I need it. It’s only a stick.”

“It’s my stick.” Dovepaw was startled to see how worked up Jayfeather was, his eyes blazing and his neck fur bristling as if he was facing an enemy. “If you don’t bring it back in one piece, I’ll…I’ll…”

“Okay, I’ll bring back your stupid stick,” Thornclaw snarled. “Keep your fur on.”

He raced back across the mud with the stick in his jaws. Dovepaw and Ivypaw followed more slowly behind their mentors. Dovepaw was trying to lift each paw almost as soon as it touched the scorching ground. Her pads would be shriveled by the time she reached the water.

“Do you think the heat is getting to Jayfeather?” Ivypaw whispered. “Thornclaw’s right. It’s only a stick.”

Dovepaw shrugged. “Maybe it’s medicine cat stuff.”

“Yes, but what happens to us if our medicine cat gets bees in his brain?”

Dovepaw didn’t reply. They were drawing closer to the edge of the lake, and she could see the glistening bodies of dead fish lying here and there; she almost choked as the smell rolled out to meet her. Suddenly the hard ground vanished, replaced with glossy warm mud that sucked at her paws. Her feet sank deeper with every step, and the surface shivered, as if it were waiting hungrily for her next paw step.

“Stay there,” Lionblaze warned over his shoulder. Brownish-gray sludge flecked his pelt and clotted his belly fur. Just beyond him, Berrynose and Spiderleg were up to their haunches in mud.

The two warriors were thrashing helplessly, their pelts plastered to their sides by the brown slime. They didn’t seem to be sinking past their belly fur, but they couldn’t get a paw hold to drag themselves out.

“I’m glad they won’t be sharing our den,” Dovepaw murmured to Ivypaw. “They’ll stink of mud and dead fish for a moon!”

Ivypaw nodded. “I bet they won’t be sharing any cat’s den until they get that stench off!” She wandered off to examine a dead fish lying a couple of fox-lengths away. Dovepaw stayed to watch as Thornclaw cautiously approached the mud hole, holding the stick at one end and stretching the rest of it out so that his Clanmates could grab it. Berrynose sank his claws into it and scrambled along it until he reached more solid ground, where Lionblaze and Cinderheart helped him to his paws.

“Filthy stuff!” he exclaimed, spitting out mud and shaking his pelt so that sticky drops flew everywhere.

Dovepaw leaped back to avoid being spattered. Meanwhile Spiderleg clambered along the stick and stood panting at the edge of the muddy hole.

“Thanks,” he meowed to Thornclaw. “I’ll be more careful where I put my paws next time.”

Thornclaw nodded. “You’re welcome. You’d better go back to camp and get yourselves cleaned up.”

Spiderleg and Berrynose plodded off, their heads and tails drooping, shedding mud from their pelts at every paw step.

“And now I suppose I’d better give the stick back to Jayfeather,” Thornclaw went on, “or he’ll be madder than a fox in a fit.”

He set off toward the shore, only to halt after a few paces as a furious caterwaul came from farther around the lake. Dovepaw looked up in alarm. A mottled blue-gray tom was racing toward them, his tail streaming out behind him. Twitching her whiskers, Dovepaw picked up another unfamiliar scent, similar to the fish lying on the mud.

That must be RiverClan.

Thornclaw dropped the stick again. “Hey, Rainstorm!” he called. “What do you want?”

The RiverClan warrior ignored him and the rest of the cats who were clustered together a few tail-lengths away from the mud hole. He was heading straight for Ivypaw, who was still sniffing curiously at the dead fish.

“Prey-stealer!” he yowled. “Leave that alone! The fish are ours!”

Ivypaw spun around, her fur fluffing up and her eyes wide with terror at the sight of a full-grown RiverClan warrior bearing down on her.

“Mouse dung!” Cinderheart spat, bounding off to intercept Rainstorm before he could attack her apprentice. Dovepaw and Lionblaze raced after her.

Suddenly Lionblaze let out a yowl. “Rainstorm, watch out!”

Dovepaw realized that the RiverClan cat was heading straight for the mud hole. Too intent on Ivypaw, he seemed not to hear Lionblaze’s warning. His flying paws slid into the deeper mud; he gave a screech of mingled fear and surprise as he rapidly sank up to his belly fur.

“Help!” he wailed. “Get me out of here!”

“Serves you right,” Cinderheart meowed indignantly, halting at the edge of the mud hole and looking down at the struggling warrior. “Can’t you see she’s only an apprentice? This is her first time out of camp.”

“I’m sorry.” Ivypaw trotted up, looking anxious. “I wasn’t going to eat the fish, honestly.”

“I don’t think any cat would want to eat it,” Dovepaw added, coming to stand beside her sister. “Yuck!”

Rainstorm didn’t reply. He had sunk into a deeper part of the hole than the two ThunderClan cats who had been trapped earlier; the mud was oozing around his shoulders, and his frantic efforts to climb out only made him sink farther.

“Keep still,” Lionblaze mewed. “We’ll get you out.”

Thornclaw trotted up with the stick and pushed it out across the mud until Rainstorm could sink his claws into it. But he couldn’t get a firm-enough hold to drag himself out, as if his struggles had already worn him out. Dovepaw pressed close against Ivypaw as she watched, her belly fluttering with anxiety. Even though the RiverClan warrior had been about to attack her sister, she didn’t want to see him drown.

“Help…me…” Rainstorm rasped, stretching his neck to keep his muzzle clear of the mud.

“Oh, for StarClan’s sake…” Lionblaze muttered. He crept up to the very edge of the hole, testing every paw step before he put his weight down, and leaned over so that he could sink his teeth into Rainstorm’s scruff. He gave an enormous heave, and with a loud sucking noise the RiverClan tom scrambled free of the clinging mud and collapsed on one side, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Thornclaw meowed unsympathetically. “Now take off. You shouldn’t have been on this side of the lake at all.”

Rainstorm’s paws scrabbled, but when he tried to stand up his legs gave way and he fell onto the mud again.

“Now what are we going to do with him?” Cinderheart meowed. “He’s never going to make it back to RiverClan in that state.”

Lionblaze sighed. “There’s no need for any of this, if RiverClan would just be reasonable. Are any of his Clanmates around?”

“Over there.” Thornclaw pointed with his tail and Dovepaw spotted a group of RiverClan cats in the distance, close to ShadowClan territory. They were confronting the ShadowClan patrol she had seen heading to the waterside earlier. Her whiskers quivered and she sensed they were having an argument.

“I’m not getting involved in that debate,” Thornclaw decided. “If we go over there, we’ll find ourselves fighting with ShadowClan as well as RiverClan. Come on.” He prodded Rainstorm with one paw. “You can come back to our camp until you’re fit to travel. It’s not nearly as far as your own territory.”

“Thanks,” Rainstorm panted. He staggered to his paws, managing to stay upright this time; Lionblaze padded alongside him and gave him his shoulder to lean on. “Cinderheart, will you keep an eye on the apprentices while they collect the water?” he called. “I’ll help Thornclaw get Rainstorm back to camp.”

“Sure,” Cinderheart replied.

Dovepaw watched the two ThunderClan warriors set off across the mud, flanking Rainstorm, who was still unsteady on his paws. “Hey!” she called after them. “Don’t forget the stick!”

Thornclaw bounded back, his tail flicking irritably. “I don’t know what’s got into Jayfeather,” he growled, snatching up the stick and carrying it away with him.

“Are you okay, Ivypaw?” Cinderheart asked, looking down at her apprentice with concern in her blue eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Ivypaw replied. “I’m sorry I was stupid about the fish. If I hadn’t gone near it, Rainstorm wouldn’t have fallen into the mud.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” Indignation surged through Dovepaw. “He was being horrible.”

“Dovepaw’s right,” Cinderheart mewed. “He had no need to come dashing over here like that. Now, pick up your moss, and we’ll go collect the water. I want to get back to the hollow and find out what Firestar does when he hears about this.”

CHAPTER 4

Lionblaze halted in the center of the clearing and let Rainstorm sink to the ground, where he sprawled on his side with his legs folded untidily beneath him. The RiverClan warrior looked like a mess: With mud plastering his fur to his sides, it was obvious how scrawny he was, as if he hadn’t had a good meal in a moon. Lionblaze couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

RiverClan must be in big trouble if they get that angry about a dead fish.

Thornclaw had bounded away up the tumbled rocks to find Firestar in his den. Lionblaze was left to wait with Rainstorm and Jayfeather, who had joined them when they reached the shore and accompanied them back to camp. Lionblaze’s shoulders ached from supporting Rainstorm on the long trek from the lake, and his mouth was parched with thirst. It was nearly sunhigh, and the air in the hollow was quivering with heat. The mud on Rainstorm’s pelt was already baked dry.

If we hadn’t run into all this trouble, we’d have been back with the water long ago, Lionblaze thought. We should be resting when it’s this hot.

More of the ThunderClan cats were appearing from their dens, gazing curiously at the RiverClan warrior.

“What’s he doing here?” Blossompaw emerged from the elders’ den with a huge ball of bedding, dropped it, and bounced across the clearing to get a closer look. “Is he a prisoner?”

“No, he had an accident,” Lionblaze explained. “He’ll go back to RiverClan once he’s rested.”

“I don’t see why he has to rest here.” Mousefur had followed the apprentice out, guiding Longtail with her tail on his shoulder, and Purdy just behind. She gave Rainstorm a suspicious sniff. “Ugh! He smells like a rotting fish!”

“And where’s our water?” Purdy added.

“Is Rainstorm hurt?” Brightheart asked more sympathetically. “Jayfeather, do you need me to get some herbs?”

“No, he’s just exhausted,” Jayfeather replied.

Lionblaze began to explain what had happened beside the lake. He left out the fact that Rainstorm had charged at Ivypaw; he hoped that the RiverClan warrior wouldn’t really have hurt such a young apprentice, and there was no point in arousing more hostility.

“Some cat will need to keep an eye on him,” Brambleclaw meowed when Lionblaze had finished telling the story. “We can’t have him wandering around the camp.”

“He doesn’t look as if he’ll be wandering anywhere for a while,” Sandstorm pointed out with a flick of her ears.

The comments died away as Firestar appeared with Thornclaw and shouldered his way through the gathering crowd of cats until he stood in front of the RiverClan warrior. Rainstorm struggled to sit up and face him, though Lionblaze could tell how much effort it took.

Firestar dipped his head to the RiverClan tom with cool politeness. “Greetings, Rainstorm,” he meowed. “Thornclaw told me what happened.”

“Yes, I…” Rainstorm hesitated as if the words were choking him, then added, “I’m grateful to your warriors for helping me.”

“We would help any cat in trouble,” Firestar replied. “You’d better stay here until sunset, and then go home when it’s cooler. Lionblaze will show you a quiet spot where you can sleep.”

“I’ll keep guard over him,” Brambleclaw added.

“Good idea,” Firestar meowed, while several of the other ThunderClan cats murmured agreement.

“Can he have some fresh-kill?” Ferncloud asked, her gentle gaze fixed sympathetically on Rainstorm.

“We don’t have enough for ourselves,” Thornclaw snapped, without waiting for the Clan leader to respond. “Firestar, I had an idea while we were bringing him back here. We saved his miserable life; why shouldn’t ThunderClan get something out of it?”

Firestar turned to look at him, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve got one of RiverClan’s warriors here. Why not send a message to Leopardstar that she can only have him back if she lets us have some fish?”

“What?” Rainstorm protested. “You can’t do that!”

“We can do what we like, mange-pelt,” Thornclaw retorted, unsheathing his claws. “Don’t you think we deserve a reward for helping you?”

“That’s right!” some cat exclaimed from the back of the crowd.

“Are you mouse-brained?” Jayfeather growled, whipping his head around to face the speaker. “What do we want with RiverClan’s fish? It smells disgusting.”

Glancing around, Lionblaze could see that several of the cats looked as if they agreed with Thornclaw, in spite of what Jayfeather had said. Why not? he thought. We’re hungry enough. But the thought of keeping a Clan warrior prisoner made his pelt prickle with uneasiness.

“What do you think, Firestar?” Sandstorm prompted quietly.

Firestar was silent for a moment, while Rainstorm’s gaze flickered from one cat to the next as if he could read his fate in their eyes.

“I think Thornclaw’s right.” Spiderleg, dried mud still clinging to his pelt, pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Maybe it would teach RiverClan to stay away from our side of the lake.”

“And to stop telling other Clans what they can do,” Cloudtail added. “Leopardstar’s getting way too big for her fur.”

“No, they’re just desperate,” Brackenfur argued. “This heat—”

“It’s hot over here, too,” Mousefur snapped.

“Firestar?” Brambleclaw raised his tail to silence the arguing cats. “What do you want us to do?”

Finally Firestar shook his head. “I’m sorry, Thornclaw. I know you want what’s best for the Clan, and I admit that I don’t like turning down the chance of some extra food. But there’s nothing in the warrior code that allows us to use a cat from another Clan to bargain with.”

“That’s right,” Squirrelflight added, padding up to her father’s side. “We would just be making things worse.”

Thornclaw opened his jaws as if he was going to argue, then closed them again, shrugging. “Whatever you say, Firestar,” he muttered.

“Brambleclaw, show Rainstorm where he can rest,” Firestar instructed. “Later, when it’s cooler, you can lead a patrol to escort him back to RiverClan.”

Lionblaze crept into the shadow of a rock and managed to snatch some sleep. His dreams were dark and confused, and when he woke he felt almost as tired as when he had first curled up.

Long shadows stretched across the clearing as he padded to the pitifully small fresh-kill pile, and the sky above the trees was streaked with scarlet. The scorching heat of sunhigh had faded, but the air was still heavy and stale.

Maybe I can get some cats together for a hunting patrol.

“Hey, Lionblaze!”

Lionblaze swung around at the sound of Brambleclaw’s voice. The Clan deputy was bounding toward him; Rainstorm followed more slowly. The RiverClan warrior’s paw steps were firmer now, though he still looked exhausted.

“I’m leading a patrol to take Rainstorm home,” Brambleclaw explained as he came up to Lionblaze. “I’d like you to come.”

“Sure. Can I bring Dovepaw? It would be good experience for her.”

At Brambleclaw’s nod, he looked around for his apprentice and spotted her outside her new den with Ivypaw and Cinderheart. When he waved his tail, all three cats came trotting over.

Meanwhile, Brambleclaw ducked into the warriors’ den and emerged with Brackenfur and Sorreltail. Lionblaze noticed that he hadn’t chosen any of the cats who had wanted to keep Rainstorm hostage until RiverClan gave them some fish.

“We’re going over to RiverClan with Rainstorm,” Lionblaze told Dovepaw as she approached.

“Great!” Dovepaw gave a little bounce of excitement. “I’ll get to see some other territories.”

“Can’t we go too?” Ivypaw asked, looking up at Cinderheart with disappointment in her eyes.

“Sorry, no,” Cinderheart replied. “You’ll both have to get used to being separated for your duties,” she added to her downcast apprentice. “We’ll go to the training clearing instead, and I’ll teach you your first fighting moves.”

“Great!” Ivypaw cheered up at once, her eyes gleaming. “Dovepaw, I’ll flatten you when you get back!”

Dovepaw flicked her sister’s nose with the tip of her tail. “You can try.”

Brambleclaw gathered his patrol together with a sweep of his tail and led the way out of the thorn tunnel. As soon as they set off into the forest, Lionblaze realized that they were heading for ShadowClan territory.

“Wouldn’t it be safer to go the other way, past WindClan?” he suggested.

Brambleclaw gave him a brief glance from thoughtful amber eyes. “We’ve had just as much trouble with WindClan lately,” he replied. “Besides, it’s farther that way, and I’m not sure how long Rainstorm will be able to keep going. I think that if we cut straight across the mud, staying between what’s left of the lake and ShadowClan’s territory, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lionblaze muttered.

They emerged from the trees not far from the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan. Lionblaze shot a dismayed glance at the exposed mud at the bottom. “This stream used to be full to the brim,” he told Dovepaw as she padded up to stand beside him and peered down curiously at the empty stream. “Water flowed constantly into the lake, but now most of it is gone.”

“Is that why the lake has shrunk?” Dovepaw asked, tipping her head to one side.

“Partly,” Lionblaze replied.

“So why did the stream go away?”

“No cat knows. I suppose it must be the heat.”

Dovepaw stared upstream to where the channel curved away, hidden beneath wilting clumps of fern. Her whiskers were quivering and her claws flexed in and out.

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Lionblaze told her. “Let’s keep going.”

Dovepaw jumped as if he had startled her, though he couldn’t see what had sent her into such deep concentration.

“What—” he began, but at that moment a yowl interrupted him. “Lionblaze! Are you with this patrol or not?”

Brambleclaw had led the rest of the cats out onto the dried-up lake and paused, glancing back over his shoulder as he called out to Lionblaze.

“Sorry!” Lionblaze called back. With Dovepaw scampering behind him, he raced onto the hard brown mud and fell in at the back of the patrol. “Stay beside me,” he warned Dovepaw. “And if we see any ShadowClan warriors, let Brambleclaw handle it.”

“What if they attack us?” Dovepaw mewed; she looked excited rather than afraid.

“I don’t think they will. But if they do,” Lionblaze warned her, “stay out of it if you possibly can. You’re not trained; a ShadowClan warrior could turn you into crow-food with one paw.”

“Couldn’t,” Dovepaw muttered under her breath, just loud enough for her mentor to hear.

Lionblaze didn’t scold her. He remembered what it had felt like to be an apprentice, desperate to prove himself and learn all the skills of a warrior. He liked this little she-cat; she was brave and curious, and he guessed she would learn quickly.

Are you the One? he wondered as he watched her padding purposefully across the mud, her gaze flicking from side to side as if she was checking for the approach of ShadowClan cats. Or is it your sister? I wish StarClan would send us a sign.

To his relief, there was no trace of ShadowClan patrols as the ThunderClan cats trekked across the mud. Lionblaze couldn’t help feeling as if hostile eyes were gazing at him from the undergrowth on the bank, but no cats appeared.

The last of the sunlight was fading and the moon had risen above the trees by the time the patrol reached the edge of RiverClan territory.

“You go ahead now,” Brambleclaw meowed to Rainstorm. “Lead us to your camp.”

“There’s no need for you to go anywhere near our camp,” Rainstorm retorted, sounding a bit more belligerent now that he was back on his own territory. “I’ll be fine on my own from now on.”

“I want Leopardstar to hear our side of what happened,” Brambleclaw replied; only a tiny flick of the tip of his tail told Lionblaze that he was irritated. “And if she offers us some fish in return for looking after you, we won’t say no.”

“We don’t have any prey to share with other Clans,” Rainstorm snapped as he turned and led the way up the bank and onto RiverClan territory.

The RiverClan cats had made their camp on a wedge of land between two streams. Usually the waters ran high, but now the land was completely dry. The lush growth of plants that normally edged the stream had wilted and shriveled, exposing soil baked hard by the sun. The smell of rotting weed and dead fish hung in the air like smoke.

Lionblaze’s fur prickled. They were trespassing on another Clan’s territory, and even though they had good reason, the RiverClan cats might not see it that way.

“Will they drive us off?” Dovepaw asked in a whisper.

Lionblaze jumped; he had done his best to hide his worries from his apprentice, and he hadn’t expected her to be so perceptive. “It’s possible,” he whispered back. “If there’s any trouble, stay close to me. And keep your eyes and ears open.”

As Rainstorm led the ThunderClan patrol across the dried-up streambed and up the bank on the other side, a gray-furred she-cat emerged from the undergrowth. Some of Lionblaze’s anxiety faded as he recognized Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy. Mistyfoot was a reasonable cat, and she had been friendly to ThunderClan in the past.

But there was nothing friendly in Mistyfoot’s tone as her blue gaze swept over the patrol. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “And what happened to Rainstorm?”

“These cats kept me in their camp—” Rainstorm began.

“We allowed him to stay in our camp,” Brambleclaw interrupted. “Lionblaze and Thornclaw rescued him when he fell into a muddy hole at the edge of the lake. If it wasn’t for them, he would be hunting with StarClan by now.”

“Is that true?” Mistyfoot asked Rainstorm.

The RiverClan warrior ducked his head. “Yes. And I’m grateful to them. But then they said that they wouldn’t let me come back home unless Leopardstar gave them some fish.”

“Really?” Mistyfoot’s ears twitched up and she turned an inquiring gaze on Brambleclaw.

“We discussed that,” Brambleclaw admitted, sounding slightly awkward. “But Firestar said it would be breaking the warrior code. So we let Rainstorm rest through the worst of the heat, and now we’ve brought him back. May we speak to Leopardstar?” he added politely.

“Leopardstar is busy.” Mistyfoot’s tone was unusually curt, and Lionblaze wondered if she was hiding something. “I’m grateful for your help,” she went on, “and if we had fish to spare I would give you some, but we don’t.”

The two deputies were still for a couple of heartbeats, their gazes locked together. Lionblaze guessed that Brambleclaw was wondering whether to insist on seeing Leopardstar. Come on, Brambleclaw. You’re not going to win an argument, or a fight, right here in RiverClan’s camp!

Beside him, Dovepaw stood with her ears alert and her whiskers twitching, while her brilliant golden gaze seemed to bore through the undergrowth right into the RiverClan camp.

I wish she really could see what’s going on there, Lionblaze thought. There’s something that RiverClan isn’t telling us.

Eventually Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Then we’ll say good-bye, Mistyfoot. Please give Firestar’s respects to Leopardstar. And may StarClan light your path.”

Mistyfoot looked relieved. “And yours, Brambleclaw,” she replied. “Thank you for helping our warrior.” Beckoning to Rainstorm with her tail, she turned and disappeared into the undergrowth, heading for the center of the camp. Rainstorm gave an awkward nod to the ThunderClan cats, muttered, “Thanks,” and followed her.

“Well!” Sorreltail exclaimed. “He could have sounded a bit more grateful! Any cat would think we’d pulled his tail out.”

Brambleclaw shrugged. “No cat likes to admit they needed help from another Clan. Come on.” He bounded back across the dried-up stream, making rapidly for the edge of the territory. Brackenfur and Sorreltail kept pace with him, and Lionblaze and Dovepaw brought up the rear, glancing over their shoulders every now and then to make sure no RiverClan cats were following them.

“Lionblaze,” Dovepaw panted as her shorter legs struggled to keep up, “was that blue-furred cat the RiverClan deputy?”

“That’s right: Mistyfoot. She’s a great cat.”

“She’s very worried, isn’t she?”

Lionblaze was faintly surprised at his apprentice’s comment. He’d guessed there were things Mistyfoot wasn’t telling them, but he wouldn’t have said she was worried. “Every cat is worried about the drought and the shortage of prey,” he pointed out.

Dovepaw shook her head. “Oh, I think it’s more than that, don’t you? I think she must be worried about the sick cat.”

Lionblaze halted at the edge of the muddy bottom of the lake and stared at her. “What sick cat?”

“There’s a very sick cat in the RiverClan camp,” Dovepaw meowed, her pale golden eyes wide with surprise. “Couldn’t you tell?”

CHAPTER 5

A paw clipping against her ear woke Dovepaw; keeping her eyes closed, she batted irritably at it. “Get off, Ivypaw! I need to sleep.” Nearly a moon had passed since the apprentice ceremony, and the day before, their mentors had given them their first assessment, on the far side of the territory. Dovepaw couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She’d never realized how nerve-racking it was to have invisible eyes watching her every move!

The paw cuffed her again, lightly, but with a hint of claws.

Dovepaw’s eyes flew open. “Ivypaw, if you don’t stop, I’ll—”

She broke off, staring. Standing over her was a cat she had never seen before: a she-cat with matted gray fur and amber eyes. Her jaws were parted in the beginnings of a snarl, revealing two rows of snaggly teeth.

Dovepaw sprang up into a crouch, ready to tackle this strange cat who had managed to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp. “Who are you? What do you want?” she growled, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“You,” the strange cat replied.

Struggling not to panic, Dovepaw gazed around the apprentices’ den. Moonlight filtering through the ferns that covered the entrance showed her Ivypaw and the rest of her denmates curled up and sound asleep.

“Ivypaw!” Dovepaw gave her sister a hard shove. “Wake up! Help!”

Ivypaw didn’t move. Dovepaw looked up at the intruder, fear giving way to anger. “What have you done to her?”

“Nothing,” the she-cat replied, annoyance sparking in her amber eyes. “Now do as you’re told and follow me.”

Dovepaw wanted to ask why she should do anything the she-cat told her, but something compelled her to rise to her paws and scramble out of the apprentices’ den. The clearing lay silent in a wash of moonlight, the shadows lying black against the silver walls. Toadstep, on guard at the entrance to the thorn tunnel, was as still as a cat made of stone, and didn’t twitch a whisker as the mysterious she-cat led Dovepaw out into the forest.

This is weird, Dovepaw thought. What’s happening to me? Even the forest didn’t look familiar; the sparse, shriveled undergrowth was full and lush, and the grass underneath her paws felt cool and fresh.

“Where are we going?” she called, stumbling over a fallen branch that lay in the shadow of a bramble thicket. “I shouldn’t be sneaking out at night like this. I’ll get into trouble….”

“Stop complaining,” the gray she-cat snapped. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She led Dovepaw through the trees; gradually the undergrowth thinned out and more moonlight broke through. A fresh breeze began to blow, bringing with it the scent of water. Dovepaw paused for a heartbeat to let it ruffle her fur, rejoicing in its coolness after so many days of unrelenting heat.

“Come on.” The she-cat had halted beneath a tree a few fox-lengths ahead. “Come and look at this.”

Dovepaw bounded over to her side and stared in astonishment. The trees gave way to a strip of rough grass; beyond it water stretched out almost as far as she could see, its ridged surface silvered by the moonlight. Gentle lapping filled her ears, steady as a queen licking a kit in the nursery.

“This—this is the lake!” she stammered. “But it’s full! I’ve never seen so much water. Am I dreaming?”

“At last!” the she-cat commented sarcastically. “Are they filling the apprentices’ heads with thistledown these days? Of course you’re dreaming.”

For the first time Dovepaw noticed the faint shimmer of starlight around the she-cat’s paws. “Are you from StarClan?” she whispered.

“I am,” the she-cat replied. “And once I was your Clanmate.”

“Then can’t you do something to help ThunderClan?” Dovepaw asked; fear and excitement made her voice quiver. “We’re having such a hard time.”

“Hard times come to every Clan in every season,” the old gray cat replied. “The warrior code doesn’t offer the promise of an easy life. There will be much debate and fighting—”

“Fighting?” Dovepaw interrupted, horrified, then slapped her tail across her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Blood is spilled in every generation,” the she-cat went on. Her amber gaze softened, and Dovepaw became aware of an intense kindliness behind the rough exterior. “Yet there is always hope, just as the sun always rises.”

Her figure began to fade; Dovepaw could see the silver waters of the lake through her gray fur.

“Don’t go!” she begged.

The gray she-cat faded even more, until she was barely a wisp of smoke, and then entirely gone. As the last traces of her faded, Dovepaw thought that she heard her voice again, whispering gently into her ear.

After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will come on dove’s gentle wing.

Dovepaw woke with a start, her heart pounding, and sprang to her paws in one swift movement. I’m here in my den! So it was a dream…. Dawn light was filtering through the ferns at the entrance, and she could hear cats calling to one another in the clearing as they prepared for the new day.

Beside her, Ivypaw twitched an ear and blinked open her eyes. “What’s the matter?” she muttered, her voice blurred with sleep. “Why are you jumping around like that?”

Bumblepaw’s meow came from just behind Dovepaw, edged with annoyance. “Do you realize you just kicked moss all over me?”

“Sorry!” Dovepaw gasped. She had been sleeping in the apprentices’ den for almost a moon, but she still wasn’t used to how crowded it was in there.

Already the dream was breaking up into scraps, fluttering away like leaves in leaf-fall as she tried to recapture them. There was an old gray cat…a StarClan warrior. And the lake was full of water again. She realized that her legs were heavy with tiredness and her paws felt as sore as if she really had walked to the lake and back in the middle of the night. That’s mouse-brained! It was just a dream.

But there had been something important about the dream. The StarClan warrior had given her a message. She dug her claws deep into her mossy bedding, trying to recall the words, but they were gone. She let out a faint snort, half-amused and half-irritated. Who do you think you are? A medicine cat? Why would a StarClan warrior come to give a message to you?

Stretching her jaws in a huge yawn, she pushed the dream from her mind and wriggled out through the ferns into the clearing. The sky was growing brighter as the sun rose; the early patrols had left, and for a few heartbeats Dovepaw tracked Brackenfur and Sorreltail, who were stalking prey near the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan. Pricking her ears, she heard Sorreltail leap on a squirrel as it tried to escape up a tree, and Brackenfur padding over to touch his nose to her ear. “Great catch,” he murmured.

Better not listen anymore, Dovepaw thought, shutting out Sorreltail’s loving purr and listening instead to a couple of starlings having a noisy quarrel in the branches of the dead tree. Letting her senses range farther over the territory, she picked up a yowl of pain from the dawn patrol on the WindClan border, and then Berrynose’s voice: “I trod on a thistle!”

Dovepaw let out a little mrrow of amusement as she pictured the cream-colored warrior hopping indignantly on three paws while he tried to pull out the prickles with his teeth. If she knew Berrynose, he’d blame the thistle.

“Great StarClan!” Dustpelt sounded angry and frustrated. “Will you sit still and let some cat help you? Rosepetal, sort him out, please, or we’ll be here all day.”

“Just another day in ThunderClan,” Dovepaw whispered to herself.

And what about your dream? A voice seemed to speak in her mind.

“What about it?” Dovepaw muttered, firmly pushing the memories away again.

Slipping back into the den, she gave Ivypaw a sharp prod in the side. “Wake up, lazybones! Let’s find Cinderheart and Lionblaze and see if they’ll take us hunting.”

Pride tingled through Dovepaw from ears to tail-tip as she carried her prey—a mouse and a blackbird—over to the fresh-kill pile and dropped it in front of the warriors who were gathered close by.

“Well done,” Graystripe meowed, glancing up from the vole he was sharing with his mate, Millie. “At that rate, you’ll be one of the best hunters in the Clan.”

“And she’s been an apprentice for less than a moon,” Lionblaze added, padding up to deposit his own prey on the pile. “She seems to know what the prey is going to do even before the prey does.”

Whitewing, who was sharing tongues with Birchfall nearby, let out a purr of approval. “Good. I’m glad to hear you’re working hard.”

Dovepaw started to feel embarrassed. “I’m not that good,” she protested as she dropped her catch. She didn’t like being praised too much in front of Ivypaw, who had managed to kill only a single shrew. “I’ve just got a great mentor.”

Then she went hot all over in case any cat thought she was criticizing Cinderheart. The gray she-cat didn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong as she and Ivypaw set their own prey down, though Ivypaw cast an envious glance at her sister.

“Don’t be upset,” Dovepaw whispered. “It was just bad luck that you missed that squirrel.”

Ivypaw gave an angry shrug. “Bad luck doesn’t fill bellies.”

“You can each take a piece of prey,” Cinderheart meowed to the two apprentices. “You’ve worked hard this morning.”

“Thanks!” Dovepaw chose a vole from the pile, and after hesitating Ivypaw took her own shrew. Dovepaw could sense that however hungry she was, her sister didn’t want to take more than she’d managed to contribute.

Dovepaw’s belly was yowling too, but as she crouched down to eat she forced herself not to gulp the vole down in a couple of ravenous bites. The sun had risen over the tops of the trees, its rays beating down mercilessly, and there would be no more hunting until it set.

“I don’t know how much longer this drought can go on,” Millie sighed, finishing her share of the vole and swiping her tongue over her whiskers. “How many more days without rain?”

“Only StarClan knows,” Graystripe responded, touching his tail to his mate’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Then StarClan should do something about it!” Spiderleg looked up from where he sat on the other side of the fresh-kill pile with Hazeltail and Mousewhisker. “Do they expect us to survive without water?”

“There’s hardly any left in the lake,” Hazeltail added sorrowfully. “And the stream has dried up completely between us and ShadowClan.”

“So where has all the water gone?” Mousewhisker asked with an irritable flick of his ears.

Dovepaw paused, puzzled, before taking another bite of her vole. “Don’t you know why the stream has dried up?” she asked. “Isn’t it because of the brown animals who are blocking it?”

Spiderleg stared at her. “What brown animals?”

Dovepaw swallowed her mouthful. “The ones who are dragging tree trunks and branches into the stream.”

Glancing around, she realized that every cat beside the fresh-kill pile was staring at her. The vole she had just eaten suddenly weighed heavily in her belly. Why are they looking so confused?

The silence seemed to stretch on for a season. Eventually Lionblaze spoke in a quiet voice. “Dovepaw, what exactly are you meowing about?”

“The—the big brown animals,” she stammered. “They’re making a barrier in the stream, like our thorn barrier across the camp entrance. It’s stopping the water from flowing. There are Twolegs watching them.”

“Twolegs!” Mousewhisker gave a snort of amusement. “Are they sprouting wings and flying as well?”

“Don’t be silly!” Dovepaw snapped. “They’re watching the animals and pointing…something, some Twoleg stuff at them. Maybe the animals are blocking the river because the Twolegs told them to.”

“And maybe hedgehogs fly,” Spiderleg mewed with a sigh. “Lionblaze, you really ought to tell your apprentice not to make this stuff up. It’s not funny, not when we’re all suffering.”

“That’s right,” Whitewing added. The approval in her eyes had changed to annoyance and embarrassment. “Dovepaw, what’s come over you? This is a nice game to play with your sister, but it’s not the sort of thing you should talk about in front of all your Clanmates.”

Dovepaw sprang to her paws, the remains of her vole forgotten in her surge of anger. “It’s not a game! And I’m not making it up! You have to know I’m not.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” Spiderleg retorted. “Twolegs and big brown animals? It sounds like a tale for kits.”

“Can’t you hear them?” Dovepaw asked. All the other cats were looking at her uneasily, and she found it hard to meet their gaze.

“Don’t be too hard on her.” Graystripe flicked his tail at Spiderleg. “We all played games when we were apprentices.”

“Maybe she’s confused,” Millie added kindly. “It could be the heat. Did you have a dream?” she asked Dovepaw.

“I didn’t dream it, and it’s not a game!” Dovepaw’s anger was giving way to distress, her forepaws working in the earth of the camp floor. Why are they all pretending they don’t know about the stream?

“Come on.” Hazeltail got up and stretched. “Let’s find a shady place to sleep. Maybe we can all dream about big brown animals.” She padded off toward the edge of the clearing, followed by Spiderleg and Mousewhisker. Birchfall skirted the fresh-kill pile and halted in front of Dovepaw. His eyes were serious.

“If you’re making things up for fun, then stop it and say you’re sorry,” he meowed. “If you’re feeling ill, then go ask Jayfeather for some herbs. But stop bothering warriors who have better things to do than listen to nursery tales.”

“It’s not a nursery tale!” Dovepaw wanted to wail like a lost kit. Even my own father is joining in!

Birchfall exchanged a glance with Lionblaze, then padded away with Whitewing. Graystripe and Millie headed for the warriors’ den. Cinderheart rose to her paws. “Get some rest now, Ivypaw. When it’s cooler, I’ll take you for some battle training.”

“Thanks,” Ivypaw mewed, watching her mentor as she followed the other warriors. She gave Dovepaw a hard shove. “Stop showing off.”

Dovepaw stared at her, incredulous. “But, Ivypaw, you—”

“You’re only doing it to get attention,” Ivypaw hissed. Before Dovepaw could respond, she bounded away and vanished into the apprentices’ den.

Dovepaw stayed crouched beside the fresh-kill pile, her head down, feeling utterly crushed. Every cat in the Clan had treated her like a piece of dirt, just because she knew about the brown animals. Why are they pretending they don’t know? At least Lionblaze must have heard them; he was beside her when she sensed them, far upstream on the border with ShadowClan. Maybe it was some big secret that apprentices weren’t supposed to know about? He shouldn’t have taken me to that empty stream, then!

After a few moments, she felt the light touch of a nose against her ear, and looked up to see her mentor gazing down at her. His amber eyes were unreadable.

“Follow me,” he meowed.

CHAPTER 6

Dovepaw followed Lionblaze through the thorn tunnel and into the clearing just outside the camp. Is he angry with me as well? she wondered.

Lionblaze halted in the shade of a hazel thicket at the edge of the clearing and turned to face his apprentice. “Tell me what you can hear,” he mewed.

Dovepaw was startled. Was this her punishment? “Waves lapping at the edge of the lake,” she replied. “And the dawn patrol is on its way back.” Brightening up a little, she added, “Berrynose trod on a thistle earlier. He was trying to balance on three paws while he pulled the prickles out with his teeth.”

“Was he now?” Lionblaze murmured. “And where did this happen?”

“On the WindClan border, near the stepping-stones across the stream.”

As Dovepaw spoke, the bracken at the other side of the clearing parted, and Dustpelt led his patrol into the open. Rosepetal, Foxtail, and Berrynose followed him; the cream-colored warrior was limping.

“Hey, Berrynose!” Lionblaze called. “What happened to you?”

Berrynose didn’t reply, except for heaving a long sigh.

“He stepped on a thistle,” Dustpelt snapped. “You would think no cat ever had a thorn in his paw before.”

Lionblaze was silent until the patrol had vanished into the tunnel. Then he turned back to Dovepaw. Her fur prickled under the intensity of his gaze.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

Dovepaw crouched down as he padded across the clearing and followed the patrol into the tunnel. Her belly was churning uncomfortably. I don’t understand what all this is about!

A few heartbeats later, Lionblaze returned; Dovepaw stiffened when she saw that Jayfeather was with him. Does Lionblaze think that I’m sick, too? Does he think I need a medicine cat?

“This had better be important,” Jayfeather grumbled as he crossed the clearing beside Lionblaze. “I’m in the middle of making a yarrow poultice.”

“It is important,” Lionblaze assured him, halting in front of Dovepaw. “I think she’s the one.”

“One what?” Dovepaw’s nervousness made her voice sharp. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Lionblaze ignored her. “She hears things,” he explained to Jayfeather. “Not from StarClan. I mean from really far away.” Turning to Dovepaw, he added, “Tell Jayfeather about the brown animals blocking the stream.”

Reluctantly Dovepaw repeated the story she had told to her Clanmates around the fresh-kill pile. When she had finished she waited for Jayfeather to make fun of her like the others. Why is Lionblaze making me go through all this again?

Jayfeather was silent for a moment; when he spoke it was to Lionblaze. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

Dovepaw’s frustration spilled over. Before Lionblaze could reply, she sprang to her paws and confronted Jayfeather. “I don’t understand why every cat thinks I’m making this up! There are animals blocking the stream; are you telling me that you can’t hear them?”

Jayfeather answered her with another question. “Do you just hear them?”

Dovepaw shook her head; then she remembered that Jayfeather couldn’t see her. “No, I know what they look like, too.” Confusion swept over her. “I mean, I can’t really see them, not like they’re in front of me. But—but I know what they look like. They’re brown, with stiff fur and flat tails. Oh, and they have big front teeth, which they use to cut the trees and branches.”

“She saw Berrynose treading on a thistle, too,” Lionblaze added. “While his patrol was at the other end of the WindClan border.”

Jayfeather’s whiskers twitched. “So, you saw him and heard him,” he mused. “Anything else? Did you feel his pain?”

“No,” Dovepaw replied. “But I saw him stumble, and I heard him complain about the thorns in his pad. And I knew he was trying to pull them out with his teeth.”

“That doesn’t sound like messages from StarClan,” Jayfeather remarked, turning to his brother. “It’s more as if she can see and hear things that other cats can’t.”

“We need to test her,” Lionblaze meowed.

“Do you mean I’m different from other cats?” Dovepaw asked, her brain whirling. Couldn’t all cats tell what was happening around the territory? How did they know when trouble was coming, then? She felt her fur beginning to fluff up in panic. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” Lionblaze assured her, giving her a calming touch on her shoulder with the tip of his tail. “It—it means you’re special.”

“Can Ivypaw sense the same things?” Jayfeather asked.

Dovepaw shrugged. “We’ve never spoken about it. But…maybe not.” Now that she thought about it, she had always been the one who commented on things happening far away, not her sister. A worm of fear crept into her belly. I thought every cat could see and hear the same way I can. I don’t want to be the only one.

“We need to test her out,” Lionblaze repeated. “Is that okay?” he added quickly as Dovepaw began to bristle up again.

She met his amber gaze, aware that something had changed in the last few moments. Lionblaze was no longer just her mentor, teaching her things and telling her what to do. Instead, his eyes held respect, perhaps even awe.

Weird, she thought. “I’m fine with being tested,” she meowed. Let’s just get it over with, and then maybe life can get back to normal.

“I’m going to go off somewhere and do something,” Lionblaze told her. “When I get back, I want you to tell me what I did.”

Dovepaw shrugged again. “Okay.”

Without another word, Lionblaze dashed off into the trees, heading toward the WindClan border. Dovepaw felt a bit strange being left alone in the clearing with Jayfeather. She didn’t know the medicine cat like she knew the warriors, though she was well aware of his sharp tongue. But he didn’t seem inclined to talk; he just crouched down with his paws tucked under him, so Dovepaw let her attention wander out into the forest.

Gradually she made sense of the confusion of noise that poured from the trees. A ShadowClan patrol was investigating the scent of a fox near the border; RiverClan warriors were making a fuss about the sticky mud at the edge of the shrunken lake, where Mistyfoot was scolding an apprentice. And farther away, at the very edge of her senses, one of the big brown animals was adding another piece of wood to the blockage in the stream.

She jumped when Jayfeather spoke. “Can you tell what Lionblaze is doing yet?”

Dovepaw swiveled her ears in the direction Lionblaze had gone, toward the WindClan border. But there was no sign of her mentor there. Where could he have gone? She investigated the abandoned Twoleg nest and the training clearing, where she picked up the sounds of Cinderheart and Ivypaw practicing battle moves. Still no Lionblaze.

Dovepaw focused her senses on the edge of the lake. Yes! There he is! She could hear him and scent him, heading down the bank to the pebbly lakeshore. Did he think he would be able to trick me if he doubled back?

Lionblaze’s paw steps thudded on the dried mud. Pausing, he glanced around, then bounded over to a lump of battered wood and started dragging it onto the pebbles. Dovepaw could hear them rasping and rolling as Lionblaze tugged the wood higher. When he had pulled it all the way up to the grass, he pulled a tendril of bramble out of a nearby thicket and laid it over the wood.

“Lionblaze, what are you doing?” Dovepaw heard Sandstorm’s voice and spotted the ginger she-cat appearing around the edge of the thicket, with Leafpool, Briarpaw, and Bumblepaw just behind her. All four cats were carrying bundles of moss.

“Oh, hi, Sandstorm.” Lionblaze sounded startled. “I’m…uh…just trying an experiment.”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you.” Sandstorm seemed puzzled as she waved her tail and led the two apprentices out onto the mud, heading for the water in the distance.

When Sandstorm had gone, Lionblaze ran back through the trees and arrived, panting, a few moments later. “Well?” he gasped. “Where did I go and what did I do?”

“You tried to trick me, didn’t you?” Dovepaw began; she felt so self-conscious that every hair on her pelt was prickling. “You set off toward WindClan, but then you went down to the lake. And you found a piece of wood….”

As she went on, she saw Jayfeather listening with his head to one side, his ears pricked. He didn’t speak until she had finished. “Was she right?”

“Yes, every detail,” Lionblaze replied.

Suddenly the air around the three cats seemed to crackle with things unsaid, as if a greenleaf storm was about to break. Dovepaw drew a shaky breath.

“It’s no big deal,” she protested. “I thought every cat could tell what was going on, even if it’s not right in front of us. We all have good hearing and sensitive whiskers, right?”

“Not that sensitive,” Lionblaze meowed.

“Listen.” Jayfeather leaned forward with an intensity in his sightless blue eyes. “There is a prophecy, Dovepaw,” he began. “There will be three, kin of your kin, who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. It was given to Firestar a long time ago by a cat from another Clan, and it refers to three cats who will be more powerful than any others in the Clans—more powerful even than StarClan. Lionblaze—”

“But what has that got to do with us?” Dovepaw interrupted; suddenly she felt as if she didn’t want to know the answer.

“Lionblaze and I are two of those cats,” Jayfeather mewed with a flick of his ears. “And we believe that you are the third.”

“What?” Horror and disbelief surged over Dovepaw; her voice came out like the squeak of a startled kit. “Me?” Spinning around, she fixed her gaze on her mentor. “Lionblaze, this can’t be right! Please tell me that it isn’t true!”

CHAPTER 7

Jayfeather winced at Dovepaw’s dismay as she learned that she was different from all the other cats in her Clan, with a destiny greater even than StarClan. Not that we know what our destiny is…He heard Lionblaze sigh as she begged him to tell her it wasn’t real.

“I can’t tell you that, Dovepaw,” his brother meowed. “Because it is true. I often wish it wasn’t, believe me.”

“Lionblaze and I both have special powers,” Jayfeather put in. “He can’t be beaten in battle, and I…well, I have more skills than other medicine cats.” No way am I telling her what they are! Not yet, anyway.

“And you have especially strong senses,” Lionblaze told her. “You can tell what’s going on very far away. I started to wonder that day we went to RiverClan, when you told me there was a very sick cat in the camp. I didn’t sense anything like that. You’re a better hunter than you should be, with less than a moon’s training. And no other cat knows anything about these animals you say are blocking the river. The way you could tell exactly what I did just now makes me think you could be right about them.”

Dovepaw was silent for a few heartbeats; Jayfeather could hear her claws tearing at the grass. “This is mouse-brained!” she burst out at last. “I don’t believe you. I don’t want to be different!”

“What you want isn’t—” Jayfeather began, then broke off as he heard the swishing sound of cats pushing their way through bracken. Sandstorm was in the lead, with more cats behind her, their scents almost drowned in the dank smell of mud.

“I’m sick of this,” Sandstorm complained, her voice muffled so that Jayfeather could picture the soaked moss she held in her jaws. “RiverClan is behaving as if we have to ask their permission every time we want to go near the water.”

“And I’m covered in mud,” Briarpaw protested.

“We’re all covered.” Leafpool’s voice was tired. “Once we take the water to our Clanmates, we can have a rest and lick it off.”

“Yuck!” Bumblepaw exclaimed.

The sounds of the patrol faded as they headed into the thorn tunnel.

“We can’t talk here,” Jayfeather meowed. “We might as well announce everything to the Clan and be done with it.”

“Then let’s go farther into the forest where no cat can overhear us,” Lionblaze suggested.

Jayfeather led the way along the old Twoleg path as far as the abandoned nest. The scent of catmint greeted him, soothing his worries and filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. If ThunderClan ever suffers from greencough again, we’ll be well prepared.

“Your catmint is flourishing,” Lionblaze remarked as the three cats padded into the overgrown Twoleg garden. “It’s weird that it grows so well in a drought.”

“If it did, that would be weird,” Jayfeather agreed. “I’ve been fetching soaked moss to water the roots. We can’t afford to let it die.”

Distracted for the moment from the problem of Dovepaw, Jayfeather moved confidently from plant to plant, guided by the strong scent of catmint, and gave each root a careful sniff to make sure that the fragile shoots were thriving.

“You must understand how I can tell what’s going on all over the forest.” Dovepaw padded up behind him, a challenge in her voice. “You know where every one of those plants is, even though you can’t see them.”

Jayfeather flicked up his ears, startled, while Lionblaze began, “Dovepaw, that’s different—”

“It’s okay,” Jayfeather interrupted. It was refreshing to meet a cat who didn’t tie herself into knots trying not to mention his blindness to his face. “Dovepaw has a good point. I know other cats are surprised when I know where things are. I’ve developed very good senses of smell and hearing,” he went on to Dovepaw. “I suppose that’s to make up for not being able to see. But I can’t tell what’s going on at the other side of the forest.” A flicker of resentment crossed his mind. “Your powers are much greater than my senses.”

“But I don’t understand!” Jayfeather could tell that Dovepaw was trying very hard to keep her voice steady. “Why do I have these powers? What does the prophecy mean?”

“We’re not sure,” Lionblaze replied. “We felt just like you, at first. And we’ve struggled hard to understand it, but—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Jayfeather cut in. “How can you not want to be more powerful than your Clanmates? To have a greater destiny, a mystery to solve? How can you not want to be one of the Three?”

“But we’re not three, we’re four!” Dovepaw spun around to face him. “What about Ivypaw? What are her special powers? What does the prophecy say about her?”

“Nothing,” Jayfeather told her. “At first we didn’t know whether the prophecy meant you or your sister. But you’ve made it pretty clear that you’re the One.”

“You just told us Ivypaw can’t sense things at a distance, the way you do,” Lionblaze pointed out.

“Not yet. But how do we know she won’t?” Jayfeather dug his claws into the ground at the apprentice’s stubborn tone. “Besides, she’s my sister. I’m not going to do anything without her.”

“You don’t have any choice,” Jayfeather snapped.

“Do you think we asked for this?” Lionblaze heaved a deep sigh. “I wish every day that I could just be an ordinary warrior, doing my best to help my Clan.”

“But we’ve had to accept it,” Jayfeather mewed.

He heard a scuffling sound from Dovepaw, as if the apprentice was flexing her claws in and out of the soil. “I don’t have to accept it,” she muttered mutinously.

“You do. Because of what you did today,” Lionblaze meowed. Jayfeather could tell that he felt a strong sympathy for his apprentice. “You couldn’t have made it clearer if you’d gone and yowled it from the Highledge.”

Now Dovepaw was silent, and Jayfeather could sense her anger fading, replaced by uncertainty and fear. He let out a sigh, knowing what he had to tell her, even though he had hoped there would be no need. “You must have heard that we once had a sister,” he began. “Hollyleaf. We—we thought that she was part of the prophecy, one of the Three.”

“But she wasn’t.” To Jayfeather’s relief, Lionblaze took up the story. “She tried so hard to figure out her special power, and how she could use it to help her Clan.”

“So what made you realize that she wasn’t one of the Three?” Dovepaw asked.

Grief and shame swept over Jayfeather, as sharp as when he first discovered that he wasn’t the son of Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw. He could sense that his brother felt the same. What could they possibly tell this apprentice without tearing open the wounds that had threatened to destroy their Clan?

“How much do you know about Hollyleaf?” he asked Dovepaw.

“Not much.” The young cat’s voice was curious now. “I know she was your sister and she died in an accident in the tunnels. Ivypaw and I used to hear cats talking about her sometimes, but when they saw us listening they always changed the subject.”

I’m not surprised, Jayfeather thought.

“We just realized that the prophecy didn’t include her,” Lionblaze stated flatly, in a tone that warned Dovepaw not to ask any more questions.

“So you made a mistake!” Dovepaw retorted. “How do you know that you’re not making the same mistake again? Firestar has loads of kin in ThunderClan, not just Cloudtail and Whitewing!”

“Because—” Jayfeather began.

“I don’t want to listen!” Dovepaw’s voice was angry, and Jayfeather could picture her glaring at him with her neck fur bristling. He sensed deep fear within her, which she was trying to bury under her anger. “I don’t care about special powers, unless they can help me to be a loyal warrior to ThunderClan. I don’t want any part of any prophecy, especially one that’s so vague you can’t even be sure which cat it refers to!”

“Listen, you stupid furball!” Jayfeather spat. “Do you think we wanted things to be like this?” All his anger and frustration came spilling out, like a storm breaking over the forest, and he didn’t even try to stop it. “We didn’t choose to be part of the prophecy! We lost our sister because of it!”

His paws were shaking so much that he had to sit down. Who sent the prophecy? he wondered, yet again. And why should we listen to it, when it causes so much pain?

“I—I’m sorry,” Dovepaw stammered. “But if it’s so hard, why don’t you ask Firestar about it?”

“Firestar has never spoken to us about it,” Lionblaze replied. “He doesn’t even know that we know he received the prophecy in the first place.”

“Then how…?” Dovepaw’s voice was bewildered.

“I walked in his dreams,” Jayfeather explained reluctantly. He could tell how his intensity was scaring the young she-cat, and how hard she would find it to accept the darkness within his powers. But something was urging him on, an inner voice that seemed to warn him there was no time to wait for her to understand. “We don’t know what the prophecy requires us to do,” he went on, trying to keep his voice calm, “but we need to be ready. And that means having the courage to face up to our powers, whatever they are.”

Dovepaw hesitated; Jayfeather could feel uncertainty coming off her in waves. “Wouldn’t StarClan want me to learn to be a warrior first?” she meowed at last.

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure that the prophecy comes from StarClan.” Jayfeather hated to admit that, but it was true; no StarClan warrior had ever confirmed the prophecy for him.

“But you’re right, Dovepaw.” Lionblaze’s voice was warm with approval. “The best thing you can do is get on with your warrior training. Let’s go and get some more hunting practice, before the other cats send out a search party for us.”

“Yes!” Dovepaw immediately sounded more cheerful. Jayfeather knew she was trying to push the prophecy to the back of her mind.

“Carry on,” he mewed. “I’ll stay here and take care of my plants. There are a few dead leaves that could do with pulling off.” He heard Lionblaze’s paw steps retreating, with Dovepaw following him; at the edge of the garden she halted and turned back.

“Jayfeather,” she began hesitantly, “I had a dream. This StarClan cat took me down to the lake, and it was full of water again.”

“What was the cat like?” Lionblaze asked.

“Scary! She had messy gray fur and yellow eyes. And her teeth were all snaggly.”

“That was Yellowfang,” Jayfeather told her. “She used to be ThunderClan’s medicine cat when the Clan lived in the old forest.”

“Firestar talks about her sometimes,” Lionblaze reassured his apprentice. “He says she’s not as scary as she looks.”

“Did she say why she came to you?” Jayfeather prompted.

“No…” Dovepaw sounded uncertain again. “If she did, I can’t remember.”

“And is this the only dream you’ve had?”

“The only one from StarClan. Do you think it’s important?” Dovepaw mewed.

“Yes, but I don’t know why.” Jayfeather scraped his paw over the damp scented soil. “Let me know if you have any more, okay? Oh, and welcome to the Three.”

CHAPTER 8

Lionblaze pushed his way through the thorn tunnel and padded across the clearing toward the warriors’ den. As soon as the sun had set, Brambleclaw had called him to patrol along the ShadowClan border, to make the best use they could of the cooler evening. Now Lionblaze felt as if his paws were going to drop off. He was so tired he wasn’t even sure if he could make it as far as his den.

Moonlight washed over the clearing; Lionblaze shivered when he looked up at the sky and saw the moon swelling to the full. There’ll be a Gathering tomorrow night, he thought. It’s been a whole moon since Leopardstar laid claim to all the fish in the lake. And things are no better—they’re worse.

With a massive effort he pushed his weariness away and veered from the warriors’ den to head for the tumbled rocks that led up to the Highledge. I’ve got to talk to Firestar.

On the Highledge he paused for a moment, making sure he knew what he wanted to say, then called out softly, in case his leader was asleep. “Firestar?”

“Come in.”

Firestar’s voice was weary, and when Lionblaze stepped into the den, he was shocked to see how thin and troubled the Clan leader looked. He crouched among the moss and bracken of his nest, his green gaze fixed on his paws. He blinked slowly as he raised his head to face Lionblaze.

“I’m sorry, Firestar,” Lionblaze stammered, beginning to back out again. “You look tired, so—”

“No, I’m fine,” Firestar reassured him. “If you want to talk, this is a good time.”

Slightly encouraged, Lionblaze padded into the den, dipped his head to his leader, and sat beside the nest with his tail wrapped around his paws.

“How is Dovepaw’s training going?” Firestar asked.

“Er…fine.” Lionblaze wondered if Firestar had made the connection between Dovepaw and the prophecy. He must have heard about the story she had told earlier, about the brown animals blocking the river. Would Firestar believe her? And if he did, would he take this as a sign of great power? “She works hard. I think she’s going to be one of the best hunters in the Clan.”

Firestar nodded. “She has a good mentor,” he mewed.

Lionblaze squirmed. “I do my best.”

The Clan leader turned his brilliant green gaze on Lionblaze, moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “Just as Brambleclaw did,” he murmured, “when he raised you as his own son.”

Catching his breath, Lionblaze felt a hot core of rage beginning to grow in his belly, as if he had swallowed a burning acorn. Why is Firestar bringing that up again now? I don’t want to talk about it!

“I know you and Jayfeather are angry that you were lied to,” Firestar went on quietly. “I can understand that. But you shouldn’t forget that you couldn’t have had a better mother and father than Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw. Things could have been very different.”

“I’m not mad at Brambleclaw,” Lionblaze retorted. “He’s a noble cat. I was proud when I thought he was my father. And he suffered from the lies just like the rest of us.”

“Leafpool and Squirrelflight did what they thought was best for you and your littermates,” Firestar meowed. “Would the truth have been easier to live with?”

“We have to live with it now,” Lionblaze pointed out, making an effort not to lash his tail.

“I know.” Firestar sighed. “Secrets never stay hidden forever. It takes a good deal of courage to face the truth.” He paused with a brooding look, as if he was remembering something long past. “You don’t need to punish Leafpool any more than she has already been punished,” he went on. “She has lost everything she ever loved. And Squirrelflight has lost her mate. Do you think that’s easy for her?”

They both deserved it! It took all Lionblaze’s self-control not to hiss the words aloud. His anger threatened to overwhelm him; he didn’t want to think about what Leafpool might be feeling.

“I take it that’s not what you came to talk about?” Firestar asked, tilting his head to one side.

Lionblaze seized on the change of subject, glad to speak to his leader as a warrior of ThunderClan, not Firestar’s troubled kin. “Have you heard the story Dovepaw told, about the brown animals blocking the stream that marks the ShadowClan border?”

Firestar nodded.

“I think she might be right,” Lionblaze continued.

The ThunderClan leader blinked in surprise, opened his jaws to speak, then seemed to consider the possibility more carefully. “If she is, I don’t see how she knows,” he replied. His eyes narrowed, and Lionblaze suppressed a shiver at his piercing green gaze. How much does Firestar know about us?

“StarClan might have sent her a dream, I suppose,” Firestar mewed after a moment. “She didn’t mention that to you, did she?”

Lionblaze wished he could have said yes. It would be such a convenient explanation. But lying to his Clan leader would create more problems than it would solve. “No, she didn’t,” he replied.

“Hmm…” Firestar’s whiskers quivered; he was obviously thinking deeply. “What she says makes sense,” he continued eventually. “I don’t mean about the brown animals. But there could be something blocking the stream so that the water doesn’t reach us anymore.”

“That’s what I thought.” Lionblaze was relieved to have a good reason for believing Dovepaw that meant he didn’t have to reveal the truth about her senses.

“There’s nothing in our territory,” Firestar went on in a murmur, half to himself. “And there can’t be anything in ShadowClan’s territory either, or they would have unblocked it.”

“It must be much farther upstream,” Lionblaze mewed. “Let me take a patrol to investigate. There might be something we can do.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.” Firestar shook his head. “We don’t know what might have caused the blockage. Besides, we would need to travel through ShadowClan territory. Blackstar would claw our ears off, and I couldn’t blame him.”

“So every cat has to suffer without water?” Lionblaze challenged him. “Jayfeather is doing his best to keep the Clan going, Firestar, but there’s a limit to what any medicine cat can do. Much more of this, and cats are going to die of thirst.”

“I know.” Firestar let out a long sigh that told Lionblaze of his despair more clearly than words. “But journeying upstream…it’s too much to take on, when we don’t know for sure that the stream has been blocked.”

“Then what are we going to do? Sit around waiting for rain?” Lionblaze’s anger was flaring up again, until he felt as if it would shrivel every hair on his pelt. “StarClan hasn’t sent us any messages to tell us when the drought might end. It’s time we took our destiny into our own paws!” Frustrated, he scraped his claws along the rock floor of the den. Words hovered, unspoken: You know that I’m more powerful than StarClan! Why won’t you believe me when I tell you we can fix this? But Lionblaze managed not to say them out loud.

“Very well, then,” Firestar responded wearily. “If you’re convinced that Dovepaw is right, I’ll let you look into it. There doesn’t seem to be anything else we can do to help. But I still won’t allow a patrol of ThunderClan cats to travel upstream alone. You would never reach the blockage, even if it exists.”

“But—” Lionblaze began.

“I said alone,” Firestar interrupted. “If ShadowClan would join us, the mission would be a lot less dangerous. In fact, it would be best if we could form an expedition from all the Clans. Four Clans working together would be much stronger than one patrol alone.”

“Would they agree?” Lionblaze asked doubtfully.

“We’re all suffering from the lack of water.” Firestar sounded more energetic now, as if the plan was renewing his strength. “Why shouldn’t we all do something about it?”

Lionblaze shrugged. He found it hard to imagine Blackstar, Leopardstar, and Onestar agreeing to send warriors off into the unknown when life was so tough around the lake. But maybe they were desperate enough to consider it. And if it’s the only way to ease the drought, he decided, I’m sure I won’t be the only cat who’s up for it.

“I will propose it at tomorrow’s Gathering,” Firestar mewed decisively.

When Lionblaze climbed down the tumbled rocks into the clearing, he found Dovepaw and Jayfeather waiting anxiously for him.

“I heard you in there with Firestar!” Dovepaw whispered. “What did he say?”

“If you heard us, don’t you know what he said?” Lionblaze asked, disconcerted to realize that his apprentice might have been listening to everything that he and Firestar had discussed.

“I don’t eavesdrop!” Dovepaw twitched her whiskers indignantly. “That would be wrong.”

“So what did he say?” Jayfeather prompted.

“He wants to send a patrol from all four Clans upstream, to see if we can unblock the stream,” Lionblaze replied. “He’s going to mention it at the Gathering tomorrow night.”

“All the Clans?” Dovepaw’s eyes stretched wide with dismay. “But—but what if they don’t believe me?”

“Don’t worry.” Lionblaze rested his tail on his apprentice’s shoulder. “Firestar isn’t going to say it was your idea.”

“He’ll probably tell the other Clans that we should explore the area upstream, to find out where the water has gone.” To Lionblaze’s surprise, Jayfeather’s eyes were gleaming.

Lionblaze couldn’t share his brother’s enthusiasm. Forcing the Clans to cooperate with one another seemed likely to cause more trouble than he was prepared to deal with. “You sound very keen on this idea,” he commented.

“Of course.” Jayfeather waved his tail. “All the Clans are suffering. It makes sense that we should work together to solve the problem.”

CHAPTER 9

Lionblaze gazed up at the full moon hanging above the empty bowl of the lake. It outlined the WindClan cats in silver as they headed around the shore on their way to the Gathering. They looked thinner than ever, and they trudged along with their heads down and their tails drooping as if they were too tired to go on putting one paw in front of another.

Lionblaze looked around at his Clanmates and realized they were just as exhausted. Only Dovepaw seemed to have any energy. Her fur was fluffed up with excitement, and every so often she would run on a few paces, then wait for Cinderheart and Lionblaze to catch up. Her ears were pricked and her whiskers quivering. Lionblaze wondered what she could sense, whether she was already listening to murmurs from the island.

There was no need to use the fallen tree to cross the lake to the island. There was no water left in this narrow channel; the lake bottom was exposed to the stars, tumbled with pebbles and bits of wood. Firestar led the way down, jumping gracefully through the scattered debris, his paws silent on the stones.

“I don’t know why we came all this way around,” Foxleap muttered. “We could have just walked straight across the lake from our own territory.

“I suppose so,” Cinderheart agreed. “But we’ve always done it this way. Somehow it doesn’t seem respectful to change.”

Foxleap shrugged with a tired sigh.

Moonlight showed the lake robbed of all its old magnificence, reduced to a bowl of dust and stones. It felt strange to Lionblaze to be padding over an arid waste of pebbles where deep water had once rippled. Above him, the fallen tree didn’t seem so high, either, as when he had to balance carefully on it with the dark lake lapping hungrily below.

The undergrowth on the island was brown and brittle all the way down to the shore. ThunderClan and WindClan mingled together as they padded quietly through it toward the clearing. Lionblaze spotted the WindClan deputy, Ashfoot, pacing beside Crowfeather; the deputy was Crowfeather’s mother, Lionblaze remembered, with a sudden shock at the realization that he had more kin in WindClan.

He dropped back, hoping that Ashfoot and Crowfeather hadn’t noticed him, and found himself walking just behind Squirrelflight and Thornclaw. Cinderheart was beside him, with Birchfall on his other side and Ivypaw and Dovepaw following. Together they pushed through the bushes that surrounded the clearing and emerged in the cold starlight, circled by pine trees. ShadowClan had already arrived. They greeted ThunderClan and WindClan with subdued nods. The shadows that flitted over the ground were as light and frail as fallen leaves; was it Lionblaze’s imagination, or were the cats really making less noise with their half-starved paws?

While Firestar and Onestar were climbing the tree to join Blackstar, Lionblaze spotted Jayfeather padding over to touch noses with Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. Nearby, Littlecloud’s apprentice, Flametail, was sitting with his littermates Tigerheart and Dawnpelt.

Tigerheart sprang to his paws as soon as he saw Lionblaze. “Hi!” he called. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks,” Lionblaze replied curtly. As he turned away, he tried to ignore the hurt in the younger cat’s eyes.

Moons ago, when Tigerheart and his littermates were newly apprenticed, their mother, Tawnypelt, had brought them to ThunderClan because a loner named Sol had taken over ShadowClan. Tawnypelt had been born and raised in ThunderClan; she and her kits had been welcomed, though cautiously, but had gone back to ShadowClan as soon as Sol had been driven out.

I thought they were my kin then, Lionblaze reflected sadly. Brambleclaw is Tawnypelt’s brother…. I liked them, especially Tigerheart. But now…

“I wish they would leave me alone,” he muttered aloud to Cinderheart. “They know I’m not their kin.”

Cinderheart’s blue eyes softened. “You can be friends without being kin,” she pointed out. “And isn’t it a good thing to have friends in another Clan instead of enemies?”

How could Cinderheart understand? She hasn’t been betrayed by her parents. Lionblaze’s gaze rested on Tigerheart and Dawnpelt. I wonder if Tigerstar has visited them in their dreams, like he used to visit me in mine? Tigerstar was Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt’s father. He had been a warrior and deputy of ThunderClan, but he had been banished by Bluestar for plotting her death and became leader of ShadowClan. He had dreamed of ruling over all four Clans when he was alive, and he nursed that dream still, even though he now walked in the Dark Forest, with other cats who were denied entry to StarClan. He had come to Lionblaze at night, preying on their shared blood, to train him in the art of merciless fighting and brutal ambition. Lionblaze had learned everything eagerly, but as soon as he found out that Tigerstar was not his kin, he realized that the dead warrior had been using him for his own dark purposes.

Lionblaze forced his paws to carry him toward the young ShadowClan warriors, knowing that he ought to try making up for his unfriendliness, but before he could take more than a couple of steps he heard Onestar calling from the Great Oak.

“Has any cat seen Leopardstar and her Clan?” When nothing but shrugs and shaking heads answered his question, he added, “Weaselfur, go take a look, will you?”

The WindClan warrior pushed his way back through the bushes and returned a moment later. “There’s a patrol on its way,” he reported to his leader. “They’re coming straight across the lake.”

All the cats settled down to wait, their talk dying into silence. Lionblaze sat beside Cinderheart, with a guilty glance across the clearing at the ShadowClan cats. Maybe I’ll talk to them before we leave.

Not many heartbeats had passed before Lionblaze heard more rustling in the bushes and Leopardstar emerged at the head of the RiverClan patrol. He felt his pelt bristle with shock when he saw how frail the RiverClan leader was, every bone visible beneath her spotted pelt and her eyes as dull as the mud left in the lake.

As soon as Leopardstar appeared, Dovepaw sat straight up, her eyes stretched wide with astonishment. Wriggling around to face Lionblaze, she leaned across to him and whispered in his ear, “That’s the sick cat from the RiverClan camp!”

“Are you sure?” Lionblaze was taken aback. That means Leopardstar has been sick for nearly a moon!

Dovepaw nodded, and Lionblaze didn’t ask her any more questions. He didn’t want any other cat to overhear their conversation.

Leopardstar held her head high as she padded across the clearing with Mistyfoot behind her. She paused at the foot of the tree, gazing upward but making no attempt to leap; Mistyfoot murmured something to her.

“I think Mistyfoot is offering to help her,” Cinderheart whispered into Lionblaze’s ear. “Leopardstar must be really ill if she can’t even jump into the tree.”

But as Cinderheart spoke Leopardstar gave her head a decisive shake, gathered her haunches under her, and sprang. Her forepaws just scraped the lowest branch; she dug her claws in and after an undignified scramble managed to pull herself up. She crouched on the branch and glared at the cats below with fierce yellow eyes, as if daring any of them to comment on her awkward jump.

Lionblaze exchanged a glance with Foxleap, who sat next to him. Leopardstar looks as if she’ll fall off that branch at any moment! Then his gaze flicked to his brother, who was sitting at the foot of the tree with the other medicine cats, and he wondered if Jayfeather knew how weak Leopardstar was.

Firestar rose to his paws and let out a yowl to indicate that the Gathering had begun. Even though he was much thinner than usual, he still looked a lot healthier than Leopardstar. “Cats of all Clans,” he began. “We are all suffering from the heat and the lack of water.”

“What else is new?” Crowfeather called from a group of WindClan warriors.

Firestar ignored him. “The problem is getting worse. The stream between our territory and ShadowClan’s has dried up. We think there’s a possibility that there’s a blockage up the stream. Some of the cats from my Clan want to explore and see if that’s true.”

As he spoke, his green gaze rested on Lionblaze, as if to reassure him that he didn’t intend to name Dovepaw, or reveal that the cat who had the idea was only an apprentice. Let’s hope the other cats who heard her by the fresh-kill pile have the sense to keep their mouths shut.

Lionblaze responded to his leader with a tiny nod; glancing at Dovepaw, he was relieved to see that she was listening as attentively as any other cat, but she didn’t look as if she knew more than Firestar was telling.

“Your patrol will be trespassing on ShadowClan territory if they travel upstream,” Blackstar growled in reply to Firestar’s suggestion. “I will not allow it.”

“I think we should send a patrol made up of cats from all four Clans,” Firestar explained. He raised his tail for silence as a ripple of surprise passed through the clearing. “Remember what happened when Twolegs destroyed our home in the old forest?” he went on. “A patrol of six cats, representing all the Clans, went on a quest to find new territories. That was how we survived then; this could be the way to survive now.”

Lionblaze felt a thrill of excitement pass through the clearing. Cats were springing to their paws, their pelts fluffing up and their tails waving.

“I’ll go!” Tigerheart called out.

“So will I!” added Dawnpelt, her eyes shining. “It’ll be a real warriors’ quest!”

“I wasn’t born when the Clans made the Great Journey,” Lionblaze heard Foxleap meowing to Rosepetal. “But I bet it was exciting.”

“I wonder what we’ll find.” Rosepetal’s whiskers were quivering. “I bet a moon of dawn patrols it’s Twolegs again.”

“Or badgers,” replied Foxleap. “I wouldn’t put anything past badgers.”

“I want to go,” Dovepaw whispered to Lionblaze. “Do you think Firestar will choose an apprentice?”

“Don’t worry,” Lionblaze murmured in reply. “You’re the one cat in all the Clans who has to go.”

“You really think we could bring the water back?” It was Onestar who spoke; his voice was cautious, but hope was waking in his eyes.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Firestar responded.

“And who would be in charge of this joint patrol?” Blackstar asked, still sounding belligerent. “You?”

Firestar shook his head. “I don’t think any Clan leader should go,” he meowed. “Our Clans need us here. Besides, when we made the Great Journey, no cat was in charge. We learned to cooperate then, and there’s no reason why we can’t do that again. What do you think?”

Blackstar kept silent, apart from the sound of his claws scraping the bark on his branch. Onestar exchanged a glance with his deputy, Ashfoot, who was sitting on a root below, then gave a decisive nod. “I agree. It makes sense to involve all the Clans. WindClan is with you, Firestar.”

“And so is ShadowClan.” Blackstar fixed Firestar with a hard stare. “You’ll be trekking through our territory, and you’re not doing that without ShadowClan cats to keep an eye on you.”

“Thank you, both of you.” Lionblaze thought Firestar was trying to hide his surprise that he had gained the two leaders’ consent so easily. “Leopardstar, what do you think?”

The RiverClan leader was gazing across the clearing as if she hadn’t heard any of the discussion above her.

After a few heartbeats of awkward silence, Littlecloud rose to his paws. “If I may speak,” he began, with a courteous nod to the leaders, “the situation now isn’t quite the same as it was last time. The cats who went on the first quest were summoned by a prophecy.” His gaze swept across the Clans until he found Brambleclaw, Crowfeather, and Tawnypelt. All three cats nodded; Lionblaze thought he could see memories flickering in their eyes.

Squirrelflight glanced across at Brambleclaw, and there was deep regret in the look she gave him. Lionblaze knew she hadn’t been chosen by StarClan, but she had insisted on going with the others; she must be longing for that time before the lies and betrayals had come between her and her mate.

“StarClan deliberately chose those cats, one from each Clan,” Littlecloud went on. “Who will choose these cats?” He paused to glance around at the other medicine cats, then added, “Has StarClan given you any hints about who should go?”

The other medicine cats, even Jayfeather, shook their heads. Lionblaze felt his belly tighten. Dovepaw knew that the big brown animals had blocked the stream. StarClan hadn’t told them anything. We can’t wait for our warrior ancestors to save us! They know less about this than we do!

For a moment, Lionblaze was afraid that Firestar would agree to wait for signs. Then the ThunderClan leader dipped his head to Littlecloud. “That’s an important point,” he meowed. “But if StarClan were going to send us signs this time, I think they would have sent them already. Each Clan leader is capable of choosing which cats should go to represent their Clans. StarClan trusts the four of us to do our best for our cats; that’s why we received nine lives.”

Murmurs of agreement rose from the clearing; Lionblaze saw that Onestar and Blackstar were nodding, too.

“The cats who go on the journey must be brave and strong,” Firestar continued. “They must be capable of seeking out something they know little about, and willing to set aside Clan rivalry for the sake of every cat. I trust that all the leaders will make the right choice.”

Lionblaze heaved a sigh of relief. That had gone much more smoothly than he had expected. The stream wouldn’t be blocked for much longer! Then Leopardstar raised her head.

“Just like you, Firestar,” she rasped. “Always coming up with a plan. Do you think I don’t know what you really have in mind?”

Firestar looked down at her with bewilderment in his green eyes. “I’m not hiding anything,” he assured her.

“Fox dung!” Leopardstar spat. Her thin, patchy pelt bristled along her bony spine. “This is a trick! You’re just trying to cheat RiverClan out of our fish. You want to get rid of some of our warriors so that we can’t keep up the patrols anymore.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Firestar didn’t sound angry, just sympathetic. “Leopardstar, I can see you’re not well—”

“I’m not a fool, Firestar.” Leopardstar rejected the ThunderClan leader’s pity with a snarl. Struggling to her paws, she swayed on the branch as if she was about to lose her balance and fall off. “I know you’d let RiverClan starve to save your precious Clan!”

“No, he wants to help,” Onestar protested. “We all do.”

“You all want our fish,” Leopardstar snarled. “But you won’t get it. RiverClan will not join this patrol.”

The other three leaders glanced at one another in dismay, but before any of them could speak, Mistyfoot leaped up to her leader’s branch. She crouched next to Leopardstar and spoke quietly into her ear.

Lionblaze strained to hear what she was saying and managed to pick up a few phrases. “They’ll weaken themselves if they send their strongest warriors away…. We benefit more than the others if the lake is refilled.”

Tension rose in the clearing as the other cats waited; Lionblaze could feel his pelt prickling as if a storm was coming. Leopardstar snapped at her deputy once or twice, but Mistyfoot persisted, her tail-tip resting gently on her leader’s shoulder.

At length Mistyfoot rose to her paws, still keeping her tail on Leopardstar. “RiverClan will send cats with this patrol,” she announced.

A few yowls of protest rose from the RiverClan warriors. “That’s for Leopardstar to say, not you!” the elder Blackclaw spat.

“She already made her decision,” Mallownose added. “Now you’ve made her look weak!”

Birchfall, sitting a couple of tail-lengths away from Lionblaze, let out a disdainful sniff. “Leopardstar couldn’t look much weaker if she was dead,” he commented.

Mistyfoot didn’t try to argue; she just waited for the noise to die down. Then she dipped her head to Leopardstar and the other leaders and leaped to the ground again.

“Thank you, Leopardstar,” Firestar mewed, stepping forward once more. “I promise, you won’t regret this decision.” He paused to give his chest fur a couple of thoughtful licks, then went on, “Each Clan must send two cats to the mouth of the dried-up stream on the second sunrise from now. The Clan deputies can escort them.” His green eyes glowed in the moonlight and his voice rang through the clearing. “We will find the water! The Clans must survive!”

CHAPTER 10

As soon as Jayfeather woke on the morning after the Gathering, he could feel excitement buzzing around the camp like bees disturbed from their nest. Yawning and trying to shake off the dark dreams that had troubled his sleep, he pulled himself to his paws and swiped at a frond of fern that was clinging to his nose.

Don’t they realize that the cats who go on the journey might never come back?

He stumbled drowsily out into the clearing and scented Firestar emerging from his den onto the Highledge. The Clan was gathering around to listen even before their leader yowled the words that would call a meeting. Jayfeather felt Mousewhisker brush against his pelt, and he heard the thump of paws as Blossompaw, Briarpaw, and Bumblepaw rushed past him. Padding forward, he found a place for himself close to Lionblaze and Dovepaw.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar began when the excited murmuring had died into silence. “At the Gathering last night, all four Clans decided to send two cats to explore the stream and find out if it really is blocked. I’ve decided that Lionblaze and Dovepaw will go to represent ThunderClan.”

Even before Firestar had finished speaking, yowls of indignation rose into the still morning air.

“She’s an apprentice!” Thornclaw protested. “We should send a strong warrior who can cope with the danger.”

“Yeah, what’s so special about her?” Berrynose added.

But all the disapproving voices were drowned out by Ivypaw’s distraught wail. “Why do you get to go when I can’t? Why doesn’t Firestar send another warrior?”

“It’s not because Firestar likes me better, or anything,” Dovepaw reassured her sister. Jayfeather heard her pad over to Ivypaw and try to give her ear a comforting lick, but Ivypaw jerked away from her. “It’s just that I was the first cat to think about something blocking the stream.”

Jayfeather felt guilt flowing over her as she remembered that she was keeping her special senses, and everything she knew about the prophecy, a secret from her sister. She’ll have to get used to it, that’s all.

“I know,” Ivypaw mewed wretchedly. “But I thought we would always do everything together.”

“I wish we could, but we can’t,” Dovepaw replied.

“That’s enough!” Squirrelflight’s voice rose above the clamor of the protesting cats. “Firestar has made his decision. It’s not for us to question it.”

“That’s right,” Graystripe agreed. “Do you trust your leader or not?”

Gradually the noise died down, and Firestar spoke again. “Lionblaze and Dovepaw will leave at the next sunrise. The meeting is over.”

The crowd of cats broke up into groups, muttering together among themselves. For a few heartbeats Jayfeather lost track of Dovepaw, then located her near the fresh-kill pile with Icecloud and Foxleap. Picking up a surge of anxiety from the apprentice, he padded over to join them.

“How come you get chosen to go?” Foxleap was asking as Jayfeather approached. “How did you know about the stream, anyway?”

“Did you have a dream from StarClan?” Icecloud added eagerly. “What did they say to you?”

Jayfeather could tell that Dovepaw was beginning to panic. “So what, if she did have a dream?” he snapped, flicking his tail in Icecloud’s direction. “That’s between her and Firestar. Now, if you’ve nothing better to do, you can go down to the lake and get some water for the elders.”

He heard an annoyed hiss from Foxleap, but the two young warriors turned and padded off without arguing.

“He talks to us as if he was our mentor,” Icecloud complained in a whisper as they headed for the thorn tunnel.

“Jayfeather, I don’t know what to tell them!” Dovepaw meowed as soon as the warriors were out of earshot. “I didn’t have a dream, you know I didn’t! I can hear those brown animals, sense them, just like I knew what Lionblaze was doing by the lake.”

Jayfeather twitched his whiskers. “I know,” he replied. “But only Lionblaze and I will understand that. As far as the other cats are concerned, this was a dream. Understand?”

Dovepaw hesitated. “I don’t like lying to them,” she meowed.

Jayfeather could feel her bewilderment, and he understood that her supersharp senses were perfectly natural to her. But she was being way too stubborn and narrow-minded. Frustration stabbed at him, sharp as a thorn. “Don’t you want to be special?” he demanded. “Don’t you like being chosen for a destiny greater than your Clanmates?”

“No, I don’t!” Dovepaw spat back at him, then seemed to remember who she was talking to. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t like keeping secrets from my Clanmates, that’s all.”

“Then don’t talk about it,” Jayfeather advised. He sensed that the apprentice was about to go on arguing, when he scented Brightheart approaching. Dovepaw took the chance to scamper away across the clearing to where her sister was sitting outside the apprentices’ den.

“Hi, Jayfeather,” the she-cat called. “Do you want me to go and collect some traveling herbs for the journey?”

“Thanks, Brightheart, that would be great,” Jayfeather replied. His mind began to race. He knew Brightheart was waiting for him to tell her what herbs she needed to look for.

Mouse dung! I’m not sure I can remember.

This would be the first time he had prepared the traveling-herbs mixture on his own. He tried to think what Leafpool had done when Brambleclaw and the rest left to search for Sol, but he was distracted by another, deeper worry. I wish Lionblaze and Dovepaw weren’t both going on the quest. What if they don’t come back? The prophecy will never be fulfilled if I’m the only one left!

He scented Leafpool as she padded past on her way to the fresh-kill pile. His pelt burned to ask her about the traveling herbs, but he forced his mouth to stay shut. She’s not a medicine cat anymore! She turned her back on that when she let herself fall in love with Crowfeather.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to Brightheart. “Just give me a couple of moments.”

He could always ask Cinderheart, to see if her half-buried Cinderpelt memories would be able to tell her the list of herbs. But that might cause more problems than it solves. Cinderheart has no idea that she was once ThunderClan’s medicine cat.

“It’s okay,” Brightheart mewed cheerfully. “I think I can remember the mixture, from when I ate the traveling herbs before I went to the Moonstone, back in the old forest. Let me see…there’s sorrel in it, isn’t there, and daisy? I remember that because I hate the taste!”

“That’s right.” To Jayfeather’s relief, his memory was coming back. “And chamomile’s another…”

“And burnet!” Brightheart finished triumphantly. “That’s all, isn’t it? I’ll get onto it right away.”

“Thanks, Brightheart.” Jayfeather dipped his head. “The best place for sorrel is beside the old Twoleg path. And you’ll probably find chamomile in the garden behind the Twoleg nest.”

“Great!” The she-cat whisked away. “Hazeltail! Blossompaw!” she called. “Do you want to come with me and look for herbs?”

When the three cats had vanished into the thorn tunnel, Jayfeather sensed Leafpool still crouched beside the fresh-kill pile. A surge of emotion jolted him, so powerful that it almost carried him off his paws. Before he could stop himself, he was flung into Leafpool’s memories.

He was looking through her eyes as she hurried through long grass and undergrowth, her heart pounding. The pungent taste of traveling herbs was in her mouth. The scents around her were strange to Jayfeather, and he realized that this memory must belong to the old forest, before the Clans were driven out. Leafpool was struggling with an agony of fear; Jayfeather sensed that she was completely focused on her sister. There was something that she didn’t want Squirrelflight to do….

Then Leafpool pushed her way through the branches of a bush and confronted Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight. Jayfeather was surprised by how much smaller and younger the cats looked. This was before the Great Journey. Leafpool and Squirrelflight must have still been apprentices.

Leafpool padded forward and laid her mouthful of leaves down in front of her sister and Brambleclaw. “I brought you some traveling herbs,” she murmured. “You’re going to need them where you’re going.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened with outrage, and he began to accuse Squirrelflight of giving away their secret to her sister. What secret? Jayfeather wondered.

“She didn’t need to tell me anything,” Leafpool promised. “I just knew, that’s all.”

Jayfeather flinched. Leafpool and Squirrelflight had a connection he had never appreciated before—and now Leafpool was terrified that her sister was going away, and that they might never see each other again. This is the beginning of the quest! Jayfeather realized. When the six cats went to find Midnight and learn the message StarClan had given her.

He listened through Leafpool’s ears as Squirrelflight poured out the whole story of Brambleclaw’s dreams, and of the meeting with cats of other Clans. He was aware of Leafpool’s deepening dismay, a chaos of feeling he could not penetrate, as if even in her memories there was something she was hiding. Leafpool tried hard to persuade Squirrelflight not to go, but Jayfeather could tell that she knew she had no hope of changing her sister’s mind. Squirrelflight hasn’t changed much, then! At last, sadly, Leafpool had to accept that Squirrelflight was leaving.

“You won’t tell any cat where we’ve gone?” Squirrelflight insisted.

“I don’t know where you’re going—and neither do you,” Leafpool pointed out. “But no, I won’t say anything.”

She watched as Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw licked up the traveling herbs, then in a sudden rush of anxiety tried to teach her sister everything she had learned from Cinderpelt, so that they could find the right herbs to help them while they were on their journey.

“We will come back,” Squirrelflight promised.

Then the memory dissolved, and Jayfeather was sightless again, back in the clearing. As the rush of Leafpool’s emotion died away, he sensed her watching him from the fresh-kill pile. She had deliberately given him this memory.

I know how you feel. I felt like this, too.

No, you didn’t! Jayfeather flashed back angrily. You and Squirrelflight weren’t part of a prophecy. If she hadn’t come back, perhaps it would have been better for every cat.

She rose to her paws and padded away, toward the warriors’ den. The air as she left was sharp with sadness. For a couple of heartbeats Jayfeather was almost betrayed into sympathy. The memory had been so clear, and Leafpool’s emotions so raw. He shook his head, trying to toss the weakness away.

If you’d told the truth in the beginning, you could have helped us with the prophecy. Hollyleaf might still be here. But she’s gone now, and we have to do it on our own.

The sun was well above the trees by now, its rays burning down into the hollow as if the air had turned to flame. Jayfeather’s paws itched to be doing something, but with Brightheart out collecting herbs he couldn’t justify leaving the hollow.

I’ll check the edges of the hollow for snakes. With every cat so excited, they’ll never remember to keep a lookout.

As he padded across the clearing, he remembered the dreadful day when Honeyfern had been bitten by a snake that slipped out of one of the holes at the bottom of the cliff. There was nothing he or Leafpool could do to save her from the poison. Later, as the young cat’s kin grieved for her, he and Leafpool had stuffed a mouse with deathberries and pushed it into the hole in the hope that the snake would eat it and die. But the venomous creature hadn’t taken their bait. Jayfeather suspected it was lurking around, waiting for another chance to strike.

As he worked his way along the rock wall, checking that all the holes were still securely blocked with stones, Jayfeather picked up Purdy’s scent and realized that the old loner was stretched out on the flat-topped rock, near where the snake had appeared. He could hear the old cat’s rhythmic snoring, which ended abruptly in a snort as if Jayfeather’s paw steps had disturbed his nap.

“You want to be careful up there,” Jayfeather meowed, halting beside the rock. “You know the snake—”

“I know all about the snake, young ’un,” Purdy interrupted. “And there’s no sign of slippery creatures around here. I’ve been watchin’.”

“That’s great, Purdy.” Jayfeather bit back a comment about how clever Purdy was to keep watch for snakes in his sleep. “But I’ve still got to check.”

“I’ll help you.” Purdy flopped down from the rock, staggered to find his balance, and padded to Jayfeather’s side. “I reckon you youngsters need some cat wi’ a bit o’ experience to show you what’s what.”

Oh, sure, Jayfeather thought as he went on checking the snake holes, pulling out bits of stone to give each opening a good sniff before he pushed the stone back and checked that the blockage was secure.

Purdy padded alongside him, offering helpful comments like, “You missed a gap there,” just as Jayfeather was feeling around for a stone that would fit the space, or, “Are you sure you gave that hole a proper sniff?”

Jayfeather gritted his teeth. “Quite sure, Purdy, thanks.” StarClan help me not to claw his ears off!

“You’ll miss your brother, I’m guessin‘,” Purdy went on. “But he’ll be back before you know it, mark my words. It was just the same, y’know, when Brambleclaw and Squirrelpaw went off to find Midnight.”

“Squirrelflight,” Jayfeather corrected the old loner. Don’t you start as well! I’ve just had enough of that from Leafpool!

“I remember the first time I met them,” Purdy rambled on. “They were so young and so brave! I reckoned they all had bees in their brain, travelin’ so far. But see how wrong I was? They found this place to live, after the Upwalkers wrecked their old home.”

Jayfeather, flat on his belly in front of a suspicious-smelling hole, just grunted in agreement.

“Not that I ever had no trouble wi’ Upwalkers,” Purdy continued. “My Upwalker was right friendly. I’d got him well trained, see. He was ’specially good when the weather turned cold and huntin’ was difficult. Always somethin’ tasty to eat, an’ a fire to sit beside…”

Jayfeather let the old loner’s voice fade into the background of creaking branches and buzzing insects. He wished that the older cats would stop going on about the quest to find Midnight. He wanted to yowl out the words of his own prophecy so that every cat could hear it.

This is more important than anything that happened in the past!

“Okay, Purdy,” he mewed, interrupting a long and convoluted story about a fox. “We’re done here. Thanks for your help.”

“Any time, young ’un.” Jayfeather heard Purdy clambering back onto the flat-topped rock and settling himself in the sun. “You don’t get foxes now like the ones when I was young…” he murmured drowsily.

As Jayfeather padded back toward his den, he heard Lionblaze and Dovepaw practicing battle moves beside the thorn barrier. He stopped, listening to Dovepaw leaping at Lionblaze and slicing her claws through the air, barely a whisker from his fur. Suddenly the quest was real. Lionblaze and Dovepaw would be gone the next morning, and the thought terrified Jayfeather more than he would have thought possible.

Just find these animals, and come back, he begged. Whatever we have to do for the prophecy to come true, I can’t do it on my own.

CHAPTER 11

Dovepaw stood on the rocks at the mouth of the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan. Even though the sun had only just cleared the horizon, the stones were hot under her pads, and the island at the far side of the lake was veiled in a shimmering haze of heat. The journey was about to begin—the quest that she had set in motion when she heard the animals that were blocking the stream—but Dovepaw couldn’t push down her misery at leaving her sister behind. Before dawn, when Lionblaze had come to rouse her in the apprentices’ den, Ivypaw had curled up and pretended to be asleep so that she didn’t have to say good-bye.

Beside Dovepaw, Brambleclaw and Lionblaze were mewing quietly together. Not wanting to listen in on their conversation, Dovepaw let her senses range farther. She spotted a patrol of RiverClan warriors circling the pool of brackish water in the middle of the lake; they looked hungry and scared. Listening briefly to their complaints about the heat, she pushed her awareness farther still, and focused on the cats in the RiverClan camp. Soon she managed to identify Mistyfoot, Reedwhisker, and the golden-furred medicine cat, Mothwing, whom she had seen at the Gathering.

“I’ve done everything I can for Leopardstar,” Mothwing was meowing anxiously. “But she still hasn’t recovered from losing her last life.”

Mistyfoot shook her head. “She hasn’t had the chance to get her strength back. But there must be some herbs you can use to help her, Mothwing?”

“The herbs are all dried up.” The medicine cat’s mew was quiet. “I’m afraid Leopardstar is going to lose this life as well.”

There was a stunned silence. How many lives does Leopardstar have left? Dovepaw wondered. At last the quiet was broken by Reedwhisker. “Then we have to hope that Firestar’s plan works, and the cats we send find out what has happened to the water.”

The sound of paw steps on the other side of the stream jerked Dovepaw back to her surroundings. Three cats had emerged from the dried-up grass on the opposite side of the stream and were padding down the stretch of pebbles to join her and her Clanmates.

Brambleclaw stepped forward to meet them. “Greetings, Russetfur,” he meowed.

The dark ginger she-cat just grunted in response.

“She’s the ShadowClan deputy, isn’t she?” Dovepaw whispered to Lionblaze. “She looks really old!”

“She was one of the cats who made the Great Journey,” Lionblaze murmured in reply. “But she’s still a formidable warrior. Don’t let her hear you calling her old!”

“These are ShadowClan’s chosen cats,” Russetfur meowed, waving her tail toward the younger warriors who had followed her down to the stream.

The two cats stepped forward and nodded to the ThunderClan patrol. Dovepaw recognized the golden tabby pelt of Tigerheart, Tawnypelt’s son, from the Gathering, but the other warrior, an older dark brown tom, was a stranger to her.

“Who’s that?” she whispered to Lionblaze.

“Toadfoot,” her mentor told her. “He made the Great Journey, too, but he was a kit then.”

“Wow! Kits made the Great Journey?”

Lionblaze nodded, but he motioned with his tail for Dovepaw to be quiet as Russetfur spoke again.

“Don’t forget you’ll be traveling through our territory to begin with,” she growled. “Don’t even think about stealing prey, because my warriors will be watching you.”

Lionblaze let his gaze sweep across the burnt grass on either side of the stream. “What prey would that be?” he asked pointedly.

Russetfur bared her teeth in the beginning of a snarl. “Don’t get clever with me, Lionblaze. And just because this quest was Firestar’s idea, don’t start thinking that ThunderClan cats are in charge.”

“No cat thinks that,” Brambleclaw mewed soothingly. “That wasn’t how it worked on the first journey. They’ll figure things out for themselves on the way.”

Russetfur let out a snort. “What was Firestar thinking, choosing an apprentice?” she demanded, with a glare at Dovepaw. “What use will she be?”

Dovepaw bristled. I’m the one who knows about the animals blocking the stream!

A moment later her eyes flew wide with shock as Lionblaze meowed defensively, “She has to come. She’s the one who knows why the stream is blocked.”

Brambleclaw took a step forward, his eyes narrowed as he gazed at Lionblaze. His jaws opened, but he didn’t speak. Dovepaw guessed that he wanted to say, “Mouse-brain!” but couldn’t in front of the other Clan cats.

“She knows?” Toadfoot looked disbelieving. “How does she know?”

Lionblaze gulped, seeming to realize his mistake. “Oh, she…uh…yeah, she had a dream from StarClan,” he explained awkwardly. “They told her all about it.”

“Yeah, and hedgehogs fly,” Toadfoot muttered.

Dovepaw stood up straighter and tried to look strong and capable, only to cringe when her belly let out a huge rumble. Oh, no!

Russetfur rolled her eyes, and Toadfoot flicked his ears contemptuously, but Dovepaw picked up a sympathetic glance from Tigerheart, and she started to feel a little better. Maybe at least one of the ShadowClan cats was friendly.

Lionblaze touched her shoulder with his tail-tip and angled his ears across the lake to point out three more cats approaching from the direction of RiverClan. As they drew closer, Dovepaw recognized Mistyfoot, along with a young gray-and-white she-cat and a dark gray tabby tom.

“Petalfur and Rippletail,” Lionblaze whispered in her ear.

Mistyfoot dipped her head toward the other deputies, but she didn’t approach. The three RiverClan cats stopped a little way off, waiting with a wary, reserved look on their faces. Dovepaw guessed that even though Leopardstar had been persuaded to let her warriors join in the quest, none of the RiverClan cats were happy about it.

Toadfoot let out a disdainful sniff and leaned over to murmur something to Tigerheart. Dovepaw picked up his soft words. “What a scrawny lot! Leopardstar must be saving her strongest warriors to guard the lake.”

Dovepaw wasn’t sure he was right. True, Petalfur and Rippletail looked hollow and ungroomed, but that seemed to be true of every cat in RiverClan. She wished the ShadowClan cats weren’t so unfriendly. This journey won’t be much fun if we can’t even greet one another!

Russetfur raked her claws through the dried mud of the riverbed. “Where is WindClan?” she meowed impatiently. “I’ve got better things to do than stand here all day.”

Looking past the ShadowClan deputy, Dovepaw spotted three cats racing down the hillside in WindClan territory and heading out across the dried-up lake. Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, was in the lead, with two she-cats behind her: a small white one and a younger light brown tabby.

“Who are they?” Dovepaw asked her mentor. “I saw them at the Gathering, but no cat told me their names.”

“Whitetail and Sedgewhisker,” Lionblaze replied, peering across the empty lake. “Good choice—Whitetail especially. She’s an experienced warrior.”

Dovepaw was pleased to see that the WindClan cats looked a lot friendlier. They raced up to the waiting cats with excitement shining in their eyes.

“Greetings,” Ashfoot mewed as they skidded to a stop at the edge of the stream. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Ashfoot,” Brambleclaw responded, dipping his head.

Russetfur’s only reply was a grunt, and Mistyfoot didn’t say anything at all.

“You know what you have to do,” Brambleclaw went on.

“Find what’s blocking the stream, and get rid of it,” Lionblaze replied promptly, his tail flicking as if he couldn’t wait to be on his way.

“Really?” Rippletail cast an alarmed glance at Mistyfoot. “I thought we were just supposed to find out what the problem is, and then come back to report.”

Before the RiverClan deputy could reply, Russetfur let out a growl. “What’s the matter? Is RiverClan too scared to take on a challenge?”

“Of course not!” Mistyfoot snapped, her blue eyes flashing. “But the safety of our Clanmates matters to us, even if it’s not important to you.”

“It’s for the sake of our Clanmates that these cats are going,” Russetfur snarled, letting her neck fur bristle.

Dovepaw’s heart started to race; for a moment it seemed as if the two she-cats would hurl themselves at each other in a screeching fight. But then Ashfoot stepped forward.

“That’s enough,” she meowed. “We’re working together now. The patrol must do whatever they can without risking their lives.”

Dovepaw picked up a sigh from Toadfoot and saw him roll his eyes. Brambleclaw’s ears snapped up; he had spotted the younger warrior, too. “You made the Great Journey, Toadfoot,” he meowed with an edge to his voice. “You should remember how the four Clans worked together to help one another. It doesn’t mean you won’t come back to your own separate territories.”

Toadfoot scuffled his forepaws on the dusty ground. “I was only a kit then,” he mumbled. “I don’t remember much.”

“Try,” Brambleclaw advised him drily. When there was no response from Toadfoot, he let his gaze sweep around to take in all the other cats. “Keep to the stream so that you can find your way back easily,” he instructed them. “Don’t get distracted; don’t let foxes or kittypets chase you off course—”

“As if!” Toadfoot interrupted.

That cat is a real pain in the tail, Dovepaw thought. Brambleclaw has more traveling experience than any cat. Why can’t Toadfoot listen?

Brambleclaw fixed the ShadowClan warrior with a glare from his amber eyes. “Take time to rest and eat when you can,” he went on. “If you find the blockage, you won’t be able to do anything if you’re exhausted when you get there.”

Even though Dovepaw knew that Brambleclaw’s advice was good, she was starting to get impatient. She could hear the brown animals far up ahead, feel their scratching through the stones beneath her paws, and sense the effort they were making to hold the water back.

“Have you got ants in your pelt?” Lionblaze whispered.

“Sorry!” Dovepaw murmured, trying to keep still.

Brambleclaw stepped back to join the other deputies. Dovepaw glanced around, realizing that the cats who were to go on the quest were standing together for the first time. I hardly know their names! she thought, fighting back panic. Their different Clan scents filled her nose and made her feel dizzy; she drew closer to Lionblaze, feeling encouraged by how calm and strong he seemed among these restless, unfamiliar cats.

“May StarClan light your path,” Ashfoot meowed solemnly. “And bring you all home safe.”

CHAPTER 12

With the gazes of all four deputies on them, the patrol turned to leave and started to pad up the dry streambed. It wasn’t wide enough for them to all walk next to one another; before they had gone more than a few paw steps, Toadfoot pushed his way to the front.

“This is our territory, you know,” he growled.

It’s just as much our territory! Lionblaze thought indignantly. This stream is the border, mouse-brain! He was aware of Dovepaw beside him, bristling as if she expected him to protest, but he kept silent, giving her just a tiny shake of his head.

“Sorry.” The embarrassed mew came from Dovepaw’s other side as Tigerheart squeezed past her to join his Clanmate at the head of the patrol.

Lionblaze couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. It wasn’t Tigerheart’s fault that his Clanmate was being such a pain.

Following the ShadowClan cats’ lead, the other cats fell into Clan pairs too, with Dovepaw bringing up the rear beside Lionblaze. Her head and tail were dropping in disappointment, as if she hadn’t thought the journey would be so tense; Lionblaze guessed she’d looked forward to making friends with the cats from the other Clans.

“Don’t worry.” He bent his head to murmur into her ear. “It won’t always be like this. It’ll take a while to get to know the other cats.”

Dovepaw blinked at him. “We don’t have time to argue,” she whispered back. “Whatever is blocking the stream, the brown animals are adding to it, making it stronger. The water might be trapped forever!”

Lionblaze touched her flank with the tip of his tail. “Not if we can do anything about it,” he promised.

The streambed gradually became deeper, sheltered by crumbling banks of sand. Flat stretches of grass opened up on either side, and Lionblaze heard the strange thumping sounds and weird yowls of Twolegs up ahead.

“We’re getting to the Twoleg greenleafplace,” he mewed to Dovepaw. “Remember you heard the same sounds when I took you on your first tour of the territory?”

Dovepaw nodded. Her whiskers quivering with curiosity, she scrambled up the side of the stream before Lionblaze could stop her and peered over the top of the bank. Lionblaze sprang up beside her, his claws extended to drag her down again.

“They’re huge!” Dovepaw couldn’t hide a squeak of astonishment as she stared at the tall pink creatures that had no fur except for a tiny scrap on top of their heads. Three or four Twoleg kits were leaping about the clearing, throwing something brightly colored at one another, while the fully grown Twolegs sat outside the pelt-dens. They’re like moving trees, Lionblaze thought, his own curiosity making him forget the danger for a couple of heartbeats.

“Get down!” Toadfoot hissed furiously from behind them.

But it was too late. One of the Twoleg kits had spotted Dovepaw; she froze in horror as it ran toward her with its pink paws outstretched. Yowls came from the other Twolegs. The fully grown ones sprang to their hind paws and pounded across the clearing, where their kits were already gathering around.

“This way!” Toadfoot snapped.

As Lionblaze shoved Dovepaw down the bank, the ShadowClan warrior turned to lead the way upstream, but a huge Twoleg leaped into the streambed, blocking their path. Big, meaty paws groped down from the sky, reaching for the cats.

“No!” Petalfur screeched.

In a panic, Sedgewhisker tried to climb the steepest part of the bank and fell back in a whirl of flailing legs and tail. Rippletail whipped around and fled back downstream, but Twolegs were blocking that way, too. Pushing Dovepaw behind him, Lionblaze advanced on the first Twoleg, his fur fluffed up and his claws out.

“Over here!” Toadfoot’s yowl rose above the noise. “Follow me!”

He had scrambled up at a place where the bank had slipped down into the stream and it was easier to climb out. Clambering after him, Lionblaze launched himself into the open with the rest of the patrol close behind.

Toadfoot led them straight across the clearing toward the scatter of flimsy green pelt-dens. “No! This way!” he yowled when Whitetail and Sedgewhisker veered off toward the lake. “Stay together!”

The WindClan cats swerved back and the whole patrol streamed across the scorched grass, pursued by yowling Twolegs. Lionblaze raced along, his feet thudding on the hard ground. Fear fluffed out every hair on his pelt, but at the same time his paws tingled with excitement. You can’t catch us, stupid Twolegs!

Toadfoot looped around one den and started to lead the cats back toward the stream. Lionblaze caught a glimpse of Petalfur and Rippletail; the RiverClan cats were dropping back, and Petalfur was limping.

“Lionblaze, look!” Dovepaw gasped; she had seen them, too.

Before Lionblaze could make a move, a young male Twoleg, bigger than the other kits, swooped down and grabbed Petalfur. As the Twoleg swung her up into the air, the RiverClan cat let out a terrified squeal and struggled to get free.

“Help!” Rippletail yowled. “Don’t leave her!”

At the head of the patrol, Toadfoot turned and raced back toward the young Twoleg. “Make a circle!” he snapped. “If we want him to drop Petalfur, we’ll have to show him we’re not afraid to fight.”

Whitetail, Sedgewhisker, and Rippletail exchanged horrified glances, but they ran into place, trembling, until they surrounded the Twoleg. Lionblaze slipped in between Dovepaw and Tigerheart. Taking their lead from Toadfoot, the patrol began to close in on the young Twoleg, stalking through the grass and hissing.

“Let her go!” Lionblaze snarled.

From behind him, a full-grown Twoleg let out a bellow. The young Twoleg dropped Petalfur; the RiverClan cat plunged to the ground and stood shakily on her paws.

“Quick!” Toadfoot gathered the patrol with a whisk of his tail and led them at full pelt past the young Twoleg. Rippletail ran beside Petalfur, guiding her by pressing up against her shoulder. More Twolegs were pounding toward them; the patrol split into two at a nod from Toadfoot, and veered into a pair of pelt-dens.

Lionblaze hurtled into the weird blue-green light with Dovepaw and Tigerheart behind him. Glancing back, he saw Dovepaw crash into a pile of hard Twoleg stuff that clattered and rolled all around her, almost carrying her off her paws. Recovering, she raced across a soft pelt laid on the ground and ducked under another pelt that was hanging from the roof of the den; it fell with a soft flop, burying her under stifling folds.

Dovepaw let out a terrified screech, clawing wildly to free herself.

“Help her!” Lionblaze snapped at Tigerheart, while he scrabbled at the bottom of the outer pelt, trying to find a way out.

Tigerheart tugged at the pelt until Dovepaw managed to thrust her head out; she gulped in air and dragged herself the rest of the way, shaking the pelt off her hindquarters as she regained her paws.

Lionblaze found a loose fold in the outer pelt and held it up in his teeth to make a gap. It tasted foul, like licking the trail left by a monster on the Thunderpath. Tigerheart wriggled through and Dovepaw followed, popping out into the harsh sunlight of the clearing. As Lionblaze wriggled out behind them, something heavy whizzed past his head and landed with a thump in a bramble thicket that bordered the clearing.

Dovepaw jumped in alarm, then plunged off again when she spotted Toadfoot just ahead. Lionblaze followed, making sure Tigerheart was still with them. Toadfoot led the patrol past the outlying pelt-dens and into the bracken at the edge of the clearing. As he thrust his way through it, Lionblaze picked up the ThunderClan scent marks and realized that he had crossed into his own territory.

The rest of the patrol bundled into the ferns beside him, where they crouched, panting, while the Twolegs in the clearing went on baying. Toadfoot was the last to arrive; he stood glaring at the rest of the cats with his tail lashing furiously.

“This is hopeless!” he hissed. “We can’t even get out of our own territory without running into trouble. Thanks to that apprentice!” he added, turning his glare on Dovepaw.

Lionblaze saw Dovepaw stiffen, the fur on her neck and shoulders beginning to rise. Toadfoot, you mouse-brain, it was you who led us straight into the Twolegs! he thought. He stretched out his tail to give Dovepaw a calming touch on her shoulder. “Young cats are curious,” he replied, his voice level. “If the Twolegs weren’t crazy, this would never have happened.”

Toadfoot let out an angry snort. “This quest is over before it’s begun,” he growled. “We don’t even know what we’re going to find at the end of the stream. What makes us think we can refill the lake when we panic over a few Twolegs?”

“I think you’re wrong,” Whitetail stated; she was still trembling, but she stood squarely in front of the young ShadowClan warrior. “Okay, we had a narrow escape, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up. We’re not helping our Clans by staying in our own territories and watching the lake shrink even further.”

Rippletail, who was crouched beside the shivering Petalfur, trying to comfort her, looked up at that, his neck fur bristling. “Are you trying to blame RiverClan? None of you realizes how hard this is for us. We need the lake for food!”

“No, I’m not blaming you!” Whitetail replied indignantly. “What did I say that would make you think that?”

Lionblaze rose to his paws and stepped between Whitetail and the enraged RiverClan warrior. “We’re wasting time,” he meowed. “We need to keep going. Next time we’ll avoid the Twolegs.”

“If there is a next time, you—” Toadfoot began.

“Hey, we survived, didn’t we?” Tigerheart interrupted his Clanmate. Of all the cats, Lionblaze thought Tigerheart was the least affected by their danger; his eyes were gleaming, as if he had enjoyed the excitement. “We showed those dumb Twolegs! They were terrified! Who cares if we meet them again?” Turning to Dovepaw, he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Lionblaze felt faintly amused as he saw Dovepaw’s jaws drop open in outrage. “I can protect myself!”

“We can all look after ourselves.” Sedgewhisker unexpectedly backed Dovepaw up. “After all, that’s why we were chosen, right? Because our Clans thought we had the best chance of solving the problem with the stream?”

“That’s true,” Lionblaze meowed.

Petalfur raised her head; she was still shaking so much she could hardly speak, but she gazed bravely at the other cats. “I think we should go on,” she mewed. “I’ve watched my Clanmates starving around me, and I can’t do that anymore! Thinking of that gives me courage.”

“Well said, Petalfur,” Whitetail mewed quietly.

“Then we keep going.” Lionblaze spoke before Toadfoot had a chance to argue. With a glance at the ShadowClan warrior, he added, “And since we’re in ThunderClan territory now, I’ll take the lead.”

CHAPTER 13

Lionblaze cast sidelong glances at Dovepaw as she padded beside him along the narrow trails underneath the ferns. Her fur was still standing on end from the encounter with the Twolegs, and he could see a ring of white around her eyes.

Were we wrong to bring her? he wondered. She’s been apprenticed for only a moon. He shook his head. No, we need her, he told himself. Lionblaze thought of the time he had journeyed into the mountains with his littermates, to the Tribe of Rushing Water. They had only been apprentices then, and they’d managed fine. Dovepaw will be fine, too. She has to be.

The sun was rising higher in the sky when the cats approached the point where the stream veered off into ShadowClan territory. Lionblaze halted and gazed across the dried-up streambed into the pine forests, where brown needles covered the ground and the undergrowth was patchy.

Toadfoot padded up. “I think we should rest here for a while and eat,” he meowed. He nodded toward the two RiverClan cats. “They look ready to fall over.”

Lionblaze didn’t like his sneering tone, and he didn’t want to side with Toadfoot against the other Clans, but he had to admit that the ShadowClan warrior was right. All the cats were tired from fleeing the Twolegs, and from the increasing heat, but Rippletail and Petalfur looked exhausted. Petalfur had already flopped down on her side among the ferns, breathing heavily.

I’m not surprised the RiverClan cats are finding it hard, Lionblaze thought. They’re better at swimming than walking.

“Okay, we’ll rest.” Lionblaze raised his voice so all the cats could hear him. “ThunderClan and ShadowClan will hunt, each in our own territories.”

“We can hunt for ourselves,” Whitetail pointed out with a glance at Sedgewhisker.

“Sure,” the tabby she-cat agreed.

“That would be prey-stealing!” Toadfoot snapped.

Whitetail sighed. “But it’s not stealing if you catch it and give it to us? Can’t you just give us permission and make it easier for every cat?”

Lionblaze guessed she wanted to add mouse-brain, but she restrained herself. At least Toadfoot didn’t insult them by saying they only know how to catch rabbits, he thought.

“We’ll do it Toadfoot’s way,” he mewed peaceably to Whitetail. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to hunt for us all later.” Even though he could see the WindClan warrior’s point, he didn’t want to risk them running into a ThunderClan or ShadowClan patrol. They’d had enough delays already with the Twolegs.

The WindClan she-cat hesitated for a moment, then gave him a curt nod.

Lionblaze led Dovepaw deeper into ThunderClan territory, feeling safer and more relaxed to be on familiar ground. “You go that way,” he suggested to his apprentice, angling his ears around the edge of a hazel thicket. “There might be some prey under the bushes. I’ll go this way and meet you back at the border.”

“Okay.” Dovepaw stalked off, setting her paws down lightly, her ears pricked and her jaws parted to scent the air.

I hope she finds something really good, Lionblaze thought as he watched her out of sight. That’ll show Toadfoot! He padded into the trees in the opposite direction and almost at once spotted a squirrel out in the open, scraping at something underneath the leaves on the forest floor.

Excellent!

Dropping into the hunter’s crouch, Lionblaze crept silently up on his prey, his belly fur brushing the ground. There was no wind to carry his scent, and he was sure he hadn’t made a sound, but before he had covered half the distance the squirrel started up in alarm and launched itself toward the nearest tree.

“Mouse dung!” Lionblaze spat.

He hurled himself after it, realizing with a surge of triumph that there was something wrong with the squirrel; it was limping, so that he soon overtook it and killed it with a blow to the spine before it reached the tree.

I hope it hasn’t got some horrible disease, he thought as he looked down at the limp body. He gave it a cautious sniff. It smelled fine—mouthwateringly good, in fact. Picking up his fresh-kill, he headed back toward the border. Dovepaw caught up to him when he was almost there, with a tiny mouse dangling from her jaws.

“Sorry,” she mumbled around it. “This was all I could find.”

Lionblaze sighed. If Dovepaw couldn’t find any prey, then there wasn’t any prey to be found. “Don’t worry,” he mewed. “It’s better than nothing.”

When they returned to the spot where the other cats were waiting, he found Rippletail and Petalfur drowsing in the shade of the ferns. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker sat beside them alertly, as if they were on watch.

“That squirrel looks good,” Whitetail congratulated him as he dropped the fresh-kill on the edge of the stream. “And so does the mouse,” she added to Dovepaw.

“No, it doesn’t.” Dovepaw dropped her prey with an annoyed flick of her tail. “If it was any smaller it would be a beetle.”

“It’s fine.” Whitetail reached out to touch Dovepaw on the shoulder with her tail-tip. “We need every scrap of prey we can get.”

“Hey, Toadfoot and Tigerheart are coming back!” Sedgewhisker meowed.

Lionblaze turned to see Toadfoot padding confidently through the pine trees, carrying a blackbird in his jaws. Tigerheart was a little way behind him, dragging something along the ground.

“The squirrel’s not bad,” Toadfoot mewed as he leaped over the stream and dropped his prey beside Lionblaze’s. “Pity about the mouse.”

Lionblaze ignored him, watching as Tigerheart lugged his prey up to the bank of the stream, dropped it down into the dried-up bottom, then leaped down after it and clambered up the other side with the prey gripped in his jaws. It was a huge pigeon; tiny gray feathers clung all over Tigerheart’s dark brown tabby pelt.

“Great catch!” Sedgewhisker exclaimed.

“Yes, great,” Lionblaze added, stifling feelings of envy. He’d wanted to show Toadfoot that ThunderClan warriors were better hunters than ShadowClan any day. But Tigerheart’s catch was impressive, and he wouldn’t spoil the younger warrior’s pride in it.

Toadfoot was looking quietly triumphant, but at least he didn’t boast about his Clanmate’s catch.

Tigerheart seemed a bit flustered. “I nearly missed it,” he meowed. “It flew off, and I had to leap really high to get it.”

“That’s great!” Lionblaze told him. He was pleased to see the glow in Tigerheart’s eyes and hoped he had made up for being unfriendly to him at the Gathering. Cinderheart had been right: It was better to have friends than enemies in the other Clans. And the young warrior was a real asset to his Clan.

I wonder if Tigerstar realizes that yet? Lionblaze wondered, feeling a cold claw run down his spine in spite of the heat.

The cats divided the prey and crouched down to eat. For the first time, Lionblaze felt a sense of companionship with these cats who only the day before had been his rivals. Perhaps we can work together after all.

Roused from their sleep, Petalfur and Rippletail ate as if they hadn’t seen prey for a moon. By silent agreement the other cats drew back and let them fill their bellies.

“It won’t help any of us if they’re too weak to carry on,” Whitetail whispered to Lionblaze.

When they had finished eating, Toadfoot took the lead again as the stream left the border and wound its way among the pine trees of ShadowClan territory. Lionblaze felt uneasy at the open spaces and the sight of so much sky above them; the sun cast the shadows of the pines over brown needles on the ground until he felt as if he were trekking across an enormous tabby pelt. After a while they spotted a ShadowClan patrol in the distance, headed by Rowanclaw; Toadfoot called out a greeting, but the ShadowClan cats didn’t approach.

The sun was sliding down the sky when the patrol reached the edge of ShadowClan territory. Lionblaze halted as he crossed the scent markers and peered into the forest ahead. The stream ran between gray boulders covered with moss. A few fox-lengths ahead the ground changed; it became more broken, strewn with tumbled stones, and the pines gave way to gnarled trees, smaller and older than the ones he was used to in his own territory. Their branches were woven together like the roof of a den, with moss and ivy clinging to their pale trunks. But there still wasn’t much undergrowth.

Not many places to hide, Lionblaze thought uneasily.

Whitetail padded up beside him with her jaws parted to taste the air. “I think we should take turns leading,” she meowed. She spoke with conviction, her air of authority reminding Lionblaze that she was the most senior warrior, even though she was so small.

“Fine,” he responded, taking a pace back and waving his tail to let her go ahead.

Toadfoot opened his jaws as if he was going to object, then closed them again. With Whitetail in the lead, the cats jumped down into the bed of the stream and headed into the unknown forest. The trees closed over their heads; they padded forward in the dim green light, turning their heads to check for danger on each side. Lionblaze realized that the WindClan warrior had chosen the best cover available by keeping them in the empty stream, where they could duck down to hide if necessary.

“There’s mud here!” Dovepaw exclaimed, shaking one forepaw in disgust. “I walked right into it.”

“That’s good,” Rippletail meowed. “Where there’s mud there might be water. It looks as if the stream here doesn’t get as much direct sunlight.”

The RiverClan warrior was right. A few tail-lengths farther on, Whitetail spotted a small puddle of water underneath the overhanging bank, behind the roots of an oak tree. All the cats gathered around to drink. It was warm and tasted muddy, but Lionblaze didn’t think he’d ever lapped up anything so delicious.

When the cats had drunk their fill, they trudged onward. Every so often, Whitetail told one of them to leap up onto the bank and take a look around. When it was Lionblaze’s turn, he spotted a pair of deer bounding light-footed through the trees. We don’t see many of those in ThunderClan, he mused, but there are plenty around here. He spotted their cloven hoofprints marking the bank of the stream, and the moss on the trees had been chewed off as high as a deer could reach.

“I saw deer up there,” he reported to Whitetail, leaping down into the streambed again.

The WindClan she-cat nodded. “They shouldn’t bother us.”

Padding onward, Lionblaze realized that he was beginning to enjoy himself, and he guessed his companions felt the same. The air under the trees was cool and damp; their bellies were full and their thirst quenched. They walked peacefully in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves from the forest, or the splash of a paw hitting a patch of mud. It would be easy, Lionblaze thought, to forget how serious their mission was.

Suddenly Dovepaw stopped dead, her neck fur bristling up. Her eyes were wide and scared as she turned to Lionblaze. “Dogs!” she whispered. “Coming from over there.” She flicked her tail at an angle to the stream.

Lionblaze took a quick mouthful of air, but he couldn’t detect any dog scent. He couldn’t hear anything, either. But that didn’t mean Dovepaw was wrong. There was no point in trying to outrun dogs, especially in unfamiliar territory, and they couldn’t risk losing sight of the stream. There was only one answer.

“Dogs!” Lionblaze yowled, turning to face the rest of the patrol. “Quick! Climb a tree!”

The cats started milling around in confusion, tripping over one another in the narrow stream.

“What? Where?”

“I don’t smell any dogs.”

“How do you know?” Rippletail asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“There isn’t time for this.” Lionblaze forced his voice to carry above the babble. “Just climb a tree, okay?”

To his relief, Toadfoot and Tigerheart spun around and scrambled up the far bank of the stream, shooting up a nearby tree and peering down from a high branch. At least they’re safe.

But the WindClan and RiverClan cats hadn’t moved; they just shuffled their paws and cast awkward glances at one another.

“We don’t climb trees,” Whitetail pointed out.

“Oh, for StarClan’s sake!” Without waiting to argue, Lionblaze, with Dovepaw helping him, bundled the four cats out of the streambed and nudged them toward the nearest tree. “Now climb!”

Sedgewhisker veered away, heading for a low-growing tree with twisted branches that made it easier to climb. “I think I can get up here,” she meowed.

“No—come back!” Lionblaze called to her. “The dogs would follow you up there in no time. Look, you just dig your claws in,” he explained as the she-cat bounded back. “Then use your hind paws to push you up the trunk. It’s easy.”

The cats looked scared and baffled. “I’ll never do it.” Sedgewhisker was shaking. “You go. I’ll take my chances down here.”

“We’re not leaving you!” Dovepaw meowed fiercely.

Lionblaze struggled with fear and exasperation. He could hear the dogs now, their barking still faint in the distance, but growing louder with every heartbeat.

“Try this.” Dovepaw bounded over to the nearest tree and leaped up the trunk until she could balance on the lowest branch. Scrambling down again, she added, “Come on, you can do it.”

To Lionblaze’s relief, Toadfoot and Tigerheart reappeared at his side. “We’ll take one each,” Toadfoot meowed, heading for Petalfur.

“Great, thanks.” Lionblaze beckoned Sedgewhisker with a flick of his tail. “Tigerheart, you take Rippletail; Dovepaw, go with Whitetail.”

The older WindClan warrior would be more confident, he guessed, and easier for an apprentice to cope with; besides, he suspected that Whitetail might have climbed a tree or two in the wooded area near the border with ThunderClan. Free to concentrate on the terrified Sedgewhisker, he shoved her over to the nearest tree. “Put your front claws here,” he instructed, “and use that knot-hole there to give one hind paw leverage. Now, up you go.”

Sedgewhisker did as he said, then froze, splayed out against the tree trunk with all four sets of claws digging into the bark. “I can’t move,” she choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Lionblaze encouraged her. “And if you fall, you’ll fall on your paws. Now bring one hind paw up to that hollow there….”

Gradually, paw step by paw step, the WindClan cat edged up the tree with Lionblaze beside her. The dogs had almost reached them, noisily barking and plunging about in the sparse undergrowth. Their scent drifted thickly on the air, and Lionblaze took quick, shallow breaths as he tried not to taste it.

The trees they had chosen were hard to climb, to make sure that the dogs couldn’t follow them, but it was slow going for the inexperienced cats. Glancing around, Lionblaze could see that Dovepaw and Whitetail had reached the safety of a high branch, while Tigerheart was shoving Rippletail into the fork between two branches. Toadfoot was still coaxing Petalfur up the trunk of the tree next to Lionblaze’s.

“You’re doing fine,” the ShadowClan warrior growled, “but for StarClan’s sake, don’t look down.”

Just as Sedgewhisker managed to claw her way onto a branch, the dogs erupted into view. There were two of them, with smooth, shiny pelts, one yellow and one black. They gamboled about, leaping into the stream and out again, and sniffing around the roots of the trees.

“At least they’re not hunting us,” Lionblaze meowed, crouching on the branch beside Sedgewhisker. “Stupid creatures; they have no idea we’re here.”

Just then, one of the dogs scented him and Sedgewhisker. It burst into a flurry of excited barking as it bounded over to their tree and jumped, reaching up the trunk with its front paws. Its jaws gaped and its long pink tongue lolled out.

Sedgewhisker let out a terrified squeal and slipped off the branch, her paws flailing uselessly as she fell. Lionblaze flung himself forward, digging his hind claws into the branch while he grabbed at Sedgewhisker with his front paws. But he was a heartbeat too slow to get a firm hold. He could feel Sedgewhisker slipping through his grip, while the dog below leaped and barked in a frenzy of excitement. Sedgewhisker’s eyes were stretched wide with terror, and her jaws gaped in a soundless wail for help.

Just as Lionblaze thought she was bound to fall, he saw Toadfoot hurtle through the air from the neighboring tree, leaving a panic-stricken Petalfur with both front legs wrapped around a branch.

By now both dogs were jumping up at the tree, snapping wildly at Sedgewhisker’s dangling tail. For a moment Lionblaze was convinced that Toadfoot had leaped short and would fall into their jaws. Then the branch lurched alarmingly as he landed beside Lionblaze and reached down, sinking his front claws into Sedgewhisker’s scruff.

Slowly the two warriors dragged the WindClan cat upward until she could sink her claws into the branch again. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” she gasped, shaking so hard that she almost fell off again.

Lionblaze steadied her with his tail. “Thanks,” he mewed to Toadfoot.

The ShadowClan cat grunted, with a barely visible nod, as if he was embarrassed to be caught helping cats from rival Clans.

Lionblaze heard Twolegs yowling through the trees. The two dogs turned and loped off in the direction of the voices, casting reluctant glances back at the cats. When their noise had died away and the forest was quiet once more, Lionblaze guided Sedgewhisker down to the ground, while Toadfoot went back to his original tree to help Petalfur. All the cats descended shakily and gathered together beside the stream, crouching among the brittle stems of sun-dried grass.

“I think I’ve wrenched my shoulder,” Sedgewhisker mewed, flexing her foreleg with a grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lionblaze. I’m being such a nuisance.”

“Nonsense, you’re fine,” Lionblaze reassured her. “We can’t all be good at everything. If we had to run away from something, you and Whitetail would outpace every cat.”

“Not when my shoulder’s hurting,” Sedgewhisker muttered miserably.

“Mothwing taught me a bit about herbs before we left,” Rippletail put in, giving Sedgewhisker’s shoulder a sniff. “She says a poultice of elder leaves is good for sprains. Should I go look for some?”

“Good idea,” Lionblaze replied. “But don’t go far.”

“I won’t.” Rippletail darted off, looking glad to be doing something useful.

“What are we going to do, if some of us can’t even climb trees?” Tigerheart asked when the RiverClan cat had gone. “How can we hope to do what we have to?”

The young warrior’s anxiety struck Lionblaze like a claw, especially since he had been so optimistic earlier. The other cats were murmuring in agreement.

“We don’t even know what we have to face,” Sedgewhisker pointed out. “I mean, how do we know that the stream has been blocked at all? It might just have dried up in the heat. We could be walking forever!” she ended with a wail.

Glancing at his apprentice, Lionblaze noticed that she was looking worried. He edged over to her and bent his head to whisper into her ear. “You’re not wrong. I trust you.”

Dovepaw looked a little more relieved, though Lionblaze saw that her claws were still working in the earth in front of her.

By this time the sun had almost gone; the sky above the trees was stained red, and shadows were gathering around the trunks.

“I think we should stay here for the night,” Whitetail meowed. “We all need to rest—Sedgewhisker especially.”

“But is it safe?” Petalfur asked, her voice edged with fear. “What if the dogs come back? Maybe we should sleep in the trees.”

“No, you would probably fall out when you fell asleep,” Toadfoot told her brusquely.

Petalfur’s eyes stretched wide with alarm. “Then what are we going to do?”

“It’ll be okay,” Lionblaze reassured her. “We’ll take turns to keep watch.” Before any other cat could argue, he sprang to his paws. “Let’s collect some fern and moss for bedding.”

Dovepaw and Petalfur jumped down into the stream to look for moss, while Lionblaze and the others started to tear up fronds of dried bracken.

“You stay here and rest your shoulder,” Lionblaze told Sedgewhisker. “Rippletail should be back soon.”

By the time the RiverClan warrior came back with a bundle of elder leaves in his jaws, the other cats had formed bracken fronds into rough den walls, while Petalfur and Dovepaw had patted moss into nests.

“Here we are,” Rippletail mewed cheerfully, dropping the leaves beside Sedgewhisker. “We’ll chew these up and put them on your shoulder, and by morning you shouldn’t have any more trouble.”

Sedgewhisker blinked at him. “Thank you.”

As the patrol found places for themselves in the makeshift den, Lionblaze realized how awkward it felt to be settling down with cats from rival Clans; each cat was huddling together with their Clanmate, and Tigerheart practically jumped out of his pelt when Petalfur accidentally flicked him with her tail.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking embarrassed.

Lionblaze nearly put his paw down on Whitetail’s ear, and he flew back, brushing Toadfoot’s pelt as he did so.

“Watch it!” the ShadowClan warrior growled.

Lionblaze gave him a brief nod of apology and jumped over the bracken wall to stand on the edge of the stream. “I’ll take the first watch,” he announced.

He crouched on the bank with his paws tucked under him but soon realized he was tired enough to sleep unless he kept moving. Forcing himself to his paws again, he patrolled up and down the bank, always keeping the den in sight. His ears were pricked and he kept tasting the air for any signs of danger. There was nothing: The scent of the dogs was growing stale by now, and once he thought he caught a distant whiff of badger, but it was too far away to be a threat.

When he returned to the den, the waning moon was reflected in a pair of eyes staring up at him.

“Dovepaw!” he murmured, not wanting to wake the other cats. “You don’t have to stay awake, you know.”

“Don’t I?” Dovepaw’s voice was low but challenging. “If the dogs come back, I’m the one who’ll hear them first.”

“You’re not responsible for our safety on your own,” Lionblaze told her with a stab of sympathy. “We can help. Now go to sleep.”

For a heartbeat he thought that Dovepaw might argue and he would have to remind her that he was her mentor. Then she let out a faint sigh and curled up, closing her eyes and wrapping her tail over her nose. Within moments, her steady breathing told Lionblaze that she was asleep.

Lionblaze sat beside her, separated from her only by the thin wall of bracken, and watched her as well as his surroundings. I know what it’s like to have a power no other cat understands, he thought. It’s the loneliest feeling in the world.

CHAPTER 14

As soon as the thorn barrier stopped quivering after Brambleclaw, Lionblaze, and Dovepaw pushed their way out of the hollow, Jayfeather turned and headed back to his den. Every hair on his pelt was tingling with doubt. Eight cats are setting out on a quest based on what Dovepaw thinks she can see, hear, sense, or whatever, up a dried-out stream. It’s hardly a prophecy from StarClan.

What really bothered Jayfeather was that their warrior ancestors had said nothing to him about the quest, or about the brown animals that were blocking the stream. At the last meeting at the Moonpool, none of the other medicine cats had mentioned it, either. Is StarClan waiting to see if the prophecy of the Three will save us? It’s greater than them, after all. Halting, Jayfeather lifted his nose to the sky he couldn’t see. Are any of our warrior ancestors watching us now? he wondered.

The scamper of paws sounded from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Ivypaw’s voice was raised in protest.

What now? Jayfeather asked himself, sighing.

“Well, stop being so grumpy,” Briarpaw retorted. “No cat put ants in your pelt.”

“You’d be grumpy if your littermates went off to save the Clans,” Ivypaw snarled, “and left you doing stupid dumb training!”

Jayfeather heard the sound of a pebble being kicked, followed by an indignant yowl from Mousefur. “Watch it! Can’t a cat go to make dirt anymore without being pelted with rocks?”

“Sor-ree…” Ivypaw muttered.

Jayfeather heard the elder padding away, annoyance buzzing out of her like bees from a hollow tree. He couldn’t help feeling some sympathy with Ivypaw. I’ve been left behind, too.

“Ivypaw, control that bad temper right now!” Cinderheart came bounding up. “You should show respect to our elders.”

“Sorry,” Ivypaw repeated, sounding more miserable than angry now.

“I should think so. Later on we’ll find a really good piece of fresh-kill for Mousefur, and you can take it to her. But not yet,” Cinderheart continued, “because all of you are going to do battle training this morning.”

“Oh, big deal!” Ivypaw wasn’t impressed.

“No, it’s great.” Briarpaw sounded excited. “I’ll help you, Ivypaw. I’ll be doing my final assessment soon.”

“Hey, slow down.” Thornclaw padded up behind his apprentice. “Your assessment isn’t for a couple of moons yet. Ivypaw’s mentor will do her training. You need to concentrate on that leap and twist I showed you last time. You haven’t got it quite right yet.”

“Okay.” Briarpaw seemed untroubled by her mentor’s rebuke.

Hazeltail and Mousewhisker came up to join Blossompaw and Bumblepaw, and the whole crowd of mentors and apprentices headed out of camp, with plenty of pushing and excited squealing from the young cats.

Jayfeather sighed. Sometimes I feel as old as Rock.

The hollow felt very empty once the cats had gone. Jayfeather stood still for a moment longer, listening to the faint creak of branches above his head, then gave his pelt a shake. Striding forward, he crossed the clearing and followed Mousefur into the elders’ den. Longtail was curled up asleep, his breath whistling through his nose, while Mousefur was settling into her nest with a crackle of dried bracken.

Purdy sat beside her. “I was just rememberin’ the time when a couple o’ rats tried to move into my Upwalker’s den,” he began. “I reckon you’d like to hear about that, so—”

“Hang on a moment, Purdy,” Jayfeather interrupted. “I need to have a word with Mousefur.”

“What now?” the old she-cat demanded. She still sounded annoyed; either she hadn’t got over being hit by the pebble, or maybe it was the thought of listening to one of Purdy’s interminable stories.

“I just need to check where the stone hit you,” Jayfeather explained.

Mousefur let out a sigh. “I’ll be fine, Jayfeather. There’s no need to fuss.”

“I’m only doing my job, Mousefur.”

Another long sigh. “All right.” Jayfeather heard the rustle of bracken as Mousefur stretched out in her nest. “It was just there, at the top of my leg.”

Jayfeather padded forward and sniffed carefully. To his relief, he couldn’t find any trace of a wound; Mousefur’s skin hadn’t even been broken. “I think you’re fine,” he mewed.

“I told you that,” Mousefur snapped. “Young cats, thinking they know everything.”

“Even so, if you feel any pain or start limping, let me know right away. Okay?”

“I’ll see she does,” Purdy put in. “Don’t you worry none.”

“Thanks, Purdy.” Jayfeather headed out of the den, but before he could leave, the old loner spoke again.

“Don’t dash off like that, young ’un. You’ll enjoy hearin’ this story as well. There were these rats, see…”

Jayfeather stood fidgeting impatiently near the entrance to the den. As soon as he heard movement in the clearing, he broke into Purdy’s rambling tale. “Sorry. Gotta go. Could be an emergency.” Without waiting for an answer, he squeezed under the branches of the elder bush and padded into the hollow.

Brambleclaw had returned from seeing off the questing cats; as Jayfeather drew nearer, he heard Firestar leaping down the tumbled rocks to join his deputy in the center of the camp.

“Well?” the Clan leader asked eagerly. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Brambleclaw replied. “All four Clans sent their cats, and they all set off upstream.”

“Which cats have been chosen?”

“Toadfoot and Tigerheart from ShadowClan,” Brambleclaw began. “Sedgewhisker and Whitetail from WindClan, and Rippletail and Petalfur from RiverClan.”

Jayfeather’s ears flicked up in surprise. That doesn’t sound as if Leopardstar sent her strongest warriors. Doesn’t she realize what dangers they’ll be facing?

If Firestar thought the same, he gave no sign of it. “I hope they can all get on together,” he commented.

“They will,” Brambleclaw promised. “They’ll learn to rely on one another, and they’ll come back stronger cats for the experience.”

“We can only pray to StarClan that they come back at all,” Firestar meowed. “And that they find out what happened to the water.” He sighed, then went on in a brisker tone, “Meanwhile, we’d better start with the patrols before the day gets too hot. I’ll lead a hunting patrol; can you organize the rest?”

“Sure, Firestar.”

Jayfeather heard both cats pad away and begin calling to others inside the warriors’ den. He listened briefly as his Clanmates pushed their way out through the branches, yawning and stretching, and then he turned away toward his den. Before he reached it, Firestar led his hunting patrol past him. Dustpelt brought up the rear; as he brushed past, Jayfeather felt a stab of pain at the base of the tabby warrior’s spine. Pricking his ears toward the patrol, he detected a slight unevenness in Dustpelt’s paw steps.

“Hey, Dustpelt!” he called. “Hang on a moment!”

“What?” Dustpelt sounded even more crabby than usual as he retraced his steps. “I’m supposed to be hunting with Firestar, so make it quick.”

“Have you hurt your back?” Jayfeather asked.

The brown tabby tom hesitated. “What makes you think that?”

“I’m a medicine cat,” Jayfeather retorted drily. “If you’re hurt, I’ve got some herbs that will help you.”

“I don’t need herbs,” Dustpelt retorted; Jayfeather pictured his neck fur bristling up. “Save them for cats who are really ill.”

“I’ve got plenty of what you need,” Jayfeather assured him. He wasn’t going to let Dustpelt deprive himself of medicine out of misplaced selflessness. His back would only get worse, and then he wouldn’t be able to hunt at all. “Come see me when you get back.”

“Okay, I will.” Jayfeather thought he could sense relief behind Dustpelt’s brusque tone. Quietly he added, “Thanks, Jayfeather.”

“Make sure you don’t forget!” Jayfeather called as Dustpelt bounded away to catch up to Firestar and the rest of the patrol. He reminded himself to have a word with Ferncloud if her mate didn’t turn up for the herbs. Heading for his den once again, Jayfeather became aware of a cat’s warm gaze resting on him. Leafpool! He could sense his mother’s pride in him, for the way he had detected Dustpelt’s injury and avoided wounding the warrior’s dignity or sense of duty when offering him the herbs.

I don’t want your pride, Jayfeather thought.

Suddenly the hollow felt as if it were closing in on him. He couldn’t stay here a moment longer with the stone cliffs pressing around him, trapping him beneath watchful eyes. He spun around and raced across the clearing, pushing through the thorn tunnel in the wake of the patrols. Once in the forest, he headed for the lake, missing the scents of cool, damp air that always drifted to meet him when he took this path. Now the forest felt strange and restless, crackling in the hot, dry breeze.

When he emerged on the bank of the lake, a tail-length from where the water used to lap against the shore, an unfamiliar emptiness stretched in front of him. He was used to sensing the cold, wet weight of the lake on his fur when he took a breath, but now there was nothing except dust. Pausing at the edge of the trees, Jayfeather located patrols from ThunderClan and WindClan heading for the lake. They must have come for the water. Farther out, he could hear a ShadowClan patrol arguing with the RiverClan warriors who were guarding the shrinking lake.

“You don’t own the water,” Russetfur snapped. “Every cat has the right to drink.”

“And we have the right to the fish,” Graymist retorted. “Touch so much as a single scale, and I’ll claw your ears off.” In spite of her threats, the RiverClan she-cat’s voice was dull and fretful, as if she had little strength left.

It can’t be much fun, stuck out here with no shade or rest, Jayfeather thought. He padded out onto the dried-up bed of the lake, feeling the pebbles rolling underneath his paws. Somewhere nearby, he knew, must be the opening from the tunnels where the underground river had washed them into the lake. But no cat had mentioned finding a hole in the lakebed; perhaps it had been filled up by one of the many mudslides, like the one Rainstorm had fallen into.

Jayfeather shivered in spite of the heat, remembering the mudslide that had trapped his sister, Hollyleaf, when the roof of the tunnel had fallen in. For a heartbeat he was standing there again in the rain-battered forest, desperately calling out to her. Then he shook himself, pulling himself away from the terrible memory.

“Hey, Poppyfrost!” Icecloud’s cheerful voice brought him back to the scorched lake. The ThunderClan water patrol had arrived, Berrynose and Brightheart padding along with her.

There were more paw steps behind him, and Jayfeather realized that Poppyfrost had ventured out onto the lake bottom as well; she trotted up to the patrol, her steps sounding slow and heavy with the weight of her kits.

“Hi,” she panted. “Isn’t it hot? The lake is—”

“Shouldn’t you be in the nursery?” Berrynose interrupted before his mate had the chance to mew more than a few words.

Jayfeather sensed that Poppyfrost was taken aback. “I just wanted to stretch my legs,” she explained, “and see if the lake has shrunk any more.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Berrynose pointed out with an edge to his voice. “What about our kits?”

“But I want a drink,” Poppyfrost protested.

“Icecloud will bring you some water,” Berrynose meowed, before padding on toward the distant lake.

Brightheart’s and Icecloud’s embarrassment was so strong that Jayfeather could almost taste it. “Sure, Poppyfrost,” Icecloud mumbled. “I’ll bring you some moss.”

“Thanks, but I can get my own.” Poppyfrost sounded tense and brittle. “I’ll see you later.”

She trudged away from the patrol, following Berrynose, but not trying to catch up to him. When she passed Jayfeather, she halted. “It’s okay for me to leave the nursery, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Jayfeather replied. “Your kits aren’t due for another moon.”

“I thought so,” Poppyfrost mewed. “Daisy said I wouldn’t do them any harm if I took a walk.” She let out a weary sigh. “Berrynose seems to want me to stay in the nursery forever! He says there isn’t enough room for me in the warriors’ den now.”

Jayfeather scuffed the hot ground with his paw. “I’m sure he just wants to take care of you.”

Poppyfrost didn’t reply; she just let out a disbelieving snort and headed for the water.

Putting the tension out of his mind, Jayfeather returned to the shore and located his stick, carefully wedged under some elder roots a tail-length or so from the bank. Settling down in the shade of the elder bush, he ran his paw along the scratch marks. Faint whispers wreathed around his ears, and he recognized some of the voices from the time he spent with the ancient clan. He strained to hear what they were saying, but they were too quiet. A pang of sadness pierced him, like a thorn, that he had left them behind. They had been his friends, once—and he had helped to send them away from the lake forever. The spirits of the ancient cats seemed to be all around him now, brushing their tails along his pelt, mingling their scents with that of the dry lake.

What do you want? Jayfeather asked, sensing their anxiety.

But there was no reply.

Yowls from the edge of the water distracted him. Shoving the stick back under the roots, he crawled out from under the elder bush and rose to his paws.

“This is WindClan’s part of the lake!” Jayfeather stiffened as he recognized Breezepelt’s voice. “Get back to your own side.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Icecloud protested. “Our territories end three tail-lengths from the shore.”

“The shore is where the water starts,” Breezepelt growled. “And that makes this part of the lake WindClan territory. So get your tails out of here!”

“Do you want to make us?” That was Berrynose’s voice; Jayfeather could imagine the cream-colored warrior squaring up for a fight, his fur bristling and his teeth bared in a snarl.

A fight is the last thing we need! Jayfeather bounded forward, his belly fur brushing the dust and loose pebbles of the dry lakebed. “Stop!” he yowled, thrusting himself between the two warriors. “What value does the lakebed have to any Clan?”

He heard an enraged snarl and scented Breezepelt nose to nose with him. “You would say that, half-Clan cat!”

Jayfeather was jolted by the wave of hatred coming from the WindClan warrior. He took a step back, his nostrils flaring. “What has that got to do with—” he began.

Breezepelt pushed his face even closer to Jayfeather’s. “Your mother betrayed my father as well as her Clan,” he hissed. “You have no right to be a medicine cat. No right even to live among the Clans. I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done! Never!”

Jayfeather was too stunned to reply. He was aware of Berrynose bristling next to him. “I’ll claw him for you if you want, Jayfeather!” the young warrior growled.

Jayfeather shook his head. What would that change? He heard paw steps approaching and scented Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” Breezepelt replied. “Just a misunderstanding about getting to the water.”

Ashfoot turned to Jayfeather. “You should advise your warriors to keep to your own side of the lake,” she warned. “To avoid future misunderstandings.”

Jayfeather wasn’t about to quarrel, not with Breezepelt breathing venom at him. “Very well,” he mewed, dipping his head to the deputy. Anger rose inside him as he picked up the smug feelings of triumph radiating from Breezepelt. “Come on,” he added to the ThunderClan patrol. “We’re doing no good here.”

He could feel the fury of the ThunderClan cats as they padded beside him toward their own territory.

“I can’t believe that mangy WindClan cat!” Icecloud spat. “How dare he tell us where we can and can’t go?”

“You should have let me get him!” Berrynose snarled.

“There was no call for what he said to you.” Brightheart’s mew was quieter, but Jayfeather could sense her shock.

He shrugged, not wanting to discuss the accusations Breezepelt had hurled at him, and to his relief Brightheart said nothing more. Leaving the patrol to head for the distant water, Jayfeather turned toward the shore, the hot wind ruffling his pelt. In spite of the heat, cold struck through him, bone-deep, and he felt the ancient cats wreathing around him once more.

Beware, Jay’s Wing, one of them whispered. Stormclouds are gathering on a dark breeze.

CHAPTER 15

A dry, dusty breeze swept over Dovepaw, rattling the branches above her head. She blinked awake and stretched her jaws in a huge yawn. For a couple of heartbeats she couldn’t remember where she was. This isn’t the apprentices’ den! Where’s Ivypaw?

She scrambled up, panic surging through her, only to recognize the den that she and the other cats had built the night before, and the clearing where they had fled from the dogs. The others were still asleep, except for Lionblaze, who was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away on the bank of the stream.

“Hi,” he purred. “I was awake when Whitetail finished her watch, so I took your shift.”

Every hair on Dovepaw’s pelt prickled with annoyance. Springing over the low bracken wall of the den, she stalked over to her mentor. “I can do my own shift!” she growled. “You don’t have to treat me like a kit.”

“You’ve only just been made an apprentice,” Lionblaze reminded her.

Dovepaw bit back a yowl of frustration. “The prophecy doesn’t care about that, does it?” she pointed out. “I had my power before I left the nursery. It’s not like StarClan waited for me to grow up first.”

Lionblaze opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak a rustling noise came from the den and Sedgewhisker sat up, stretching. Her eyes were filled with shock as she looked around; then she seemed to remember where she was and stood up, shaking scraps of moss from her pelt.

“Hi, Sedgewhisker,” Dovepaw called. “How’s your shoulder?”

The WindClan she-cat flexed her leg experimentally, then looked up, purring with relief. “It’s much better, thanks. I can hardly feel anything.”

As she spoke, the other cats began stirring, looking tense when they realized how close they were to cats of other Clans.

“We should get on with hunting,” Toadfoot announced, jumping out of his nest. “Before it gets too hot and all the prey is hiding down holes.”

“Don’t go too far,” Lionblaze warned the cats as they scattered. “Remember, those dogs might still be around.”

Dovepaw cast out her senses, but she couldn’t pick up a trace of the dogs. The stupid creatures are probably still asleep in their Twoleg’s den. What she did pick up was a squirrel somewhere among the trees on the other side of the stream; she leaped onto the far bank and headed toward it. I’ll make up for that miserable little mouse I caught yesterday.

Slipping between the trees, she spotted the squirrel nibbling a seed at the foot of a beech tree. Dovepaw pressed herself to the ground, checked that the wind was blowing her scent away from her prey, and dropped into the hunter’s crouch. Step by silent step, she pulled herself closer. That’s right…look the other way….

One swift blow of her paw brought the squirrel down, and she trotted proudly back to the others, who were gathering again beside the den. Lionblaze had killed a vole, while Tigerheart had a couple of shrews and Toadfoot had a mouse. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker had caught a rabbit together.

“You should teach us that technique of hunting as a pair,” Lionblaze was suggesting as Dovepaw padded up with her fresh-kill. “It could be useful.”

Whitetail acknowledged his words with a flick of her ears; Dovepaw guessed she didn’t feel comfortable teaching anything to cats from another Clan.

As the cats settled down to eat, Rippletail and Petalfur drew back. “We didn’t catch anything, so we can’t eat,” Petalfur meowed, with a longing look at the fresh-kill.

“Nonsense,” Whitetail replied briskly. “How are you going to travel if your bellies are empty?”

“That’s right,” Lionblaze added. “On this journey, we all share. Come on, there’s plenty.”

The two RiverClan cats crept back again and Dovepaw dropped her squirrel in front of them. “Thanks,” Rippletail muttered.

Dovepaw sensed their guilt and embarrassment as they started to eat, and she felt sorry for any cats who were so dependent on one kind of prey. No wonder the RiverClan cats were starving now that they couldn’t find fish.

When every cat had finished eating, they set out again, with Toadfoot in the lead. They padded silently along the bed of the stream, almost as uncomfortable with one another as they had been at the start of the journey; Dovepaw could feel the tension rising, as if each one had realized all over again that they didn’t know where they were going, or how they were going to get there.

Panic bubbled up inside her. They’re only here because of me. What if I’m wrong?

Pausing, she struggled to block out all the sounds of the forest around her, then closed her eyes and cast her senses ahead. At once, sounds began to travel down the streambed to the stones underneath her paws: scratching, gnawing, the slap of trapped water, and the paw steps of large brown animals slipping over a pile of tree trunks. She sensed their bulky bodies as they dragged more branches out into the stream.

“Dovepaw?” She jumped at the sound of Petalfur’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Dovepaw’s eyes blinked open to see the RiverClan cat at the rear of the group looking back over her shoulder.

“Uh…sure,” Dovepaw mewed, running to catch up. “I’m fine.”

Reassured that the brown animals really were up ahead, she fell in beside Petalfur as they padded on. The foliage overhead was growing thicker, blocking out the fierce rays of the sun, so that it felt as if the cats were traveling through a cool, dimly lit tunnel. Dovepaw even spotted a pool of water underneath the overhanging bank.

“Look at that!” she exclaimed, giving Petalfur a friendly flick on the shoulder with her tail. “Maybe there are some fish in there.”

Dovepaw had meant her words as gentle teasing, but the RiverClan she-cat’s ears pricked. “Maybe there are.”

She padded up to the edge of the pool and peered down into the unmoving green water. Rippletail came up to join her. “Fish?” he asked, tasting the air.

“Yes!” Petalfur’s tail went straight up in the air. “There are fish. They must have survived here when the rest of the stream dried up.”

“Do you think you can catch some?” Tigerheart asked curiously.

“Of course she can.” Rippletail’s eyes shone with pride.

“The rest of you stay back,” Petalfur instructed, waving them away with her tail. “If your shadows fall on the water, the fish will know they’re being hunted.”

“Just like staying downwind of prey,” Dovepaw murmured to Lionblaze as they retreated.

Rippletail and Petalfur crouched down at the edge of the pool and waited with their gazes fixed on the water. The wait stretched out. Dovepaw shifted her paws impatiently, then made herself stand still, wondering if fish could sense vibrations in the ground. Still they waited. Her legs ached and her fur itched; she stifled a yawn. Is this really how RiverClan cats catch their prey? That fish had better be worth it.

Suddenly Rippletail flashed one paw into the water and scooped a small silver fish out of the water in an arc of drops. It fell onto the dry streambed, where it flopped and wriggled until Petalfur killed it with a swipe.

“There,” she meowed. “The other fish have probably fled into the darkest corners now, but at least we have one piece of fresh-kill.”

“Come and share,” Rippletail offered. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted fish!”

The two RiverClan cats watched with glowing eyes as their companions approached cautiously. Whitetail was the first to give the fish an experimental nibble.

“Er…no, thanks,” she meowed, passing her tongue over her jaws. “I think I’ll stick to rabbit.”

“So will I,” Sedgewhisker agreed, after barely tasting it. “Sorry, but I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

“I bet I could!” Tigerheart meowed, taking a huge mouthful. “It’s great!” he mumbled around it.

Dovepaw waited for Toadfoot and Lionblaze to take a share, then crouched down in front of the fish and bit into it cautiously. The flavor was strong, and not unpleasant, though she much preferred mouse or squirrel.

“Thanks, it’s really…different,” she mewed as she stepped back to let the RiverClan cats finish up the fish.

As they moved on, she realized that she had fish all over her paws and whiskers. Mouse dung! Now I can’t smell anything else!

A little farther on the stream wound in a tight curve. Toadfoot, who had drawn some way ahead, halted. “Get up onto the bank now!” he ordered, spinning to face them.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Lionblaze called.

“Just do it!” Toadfoot hissed. His fur was fluffed up and his eyes were wide.

His urgency spread to the other cats like a gust of wind. Dovepaw scrambled up the steep bank with her companions on either side of her, and Toadfoot led them under the trees, lashing his tail to hurry them along.

Tigerheart, straying back toward the bank of the stream, glanced down and froze. “Oh…” he breathed.

Curious, Dovepaw padded over to join him, aware of Toadfoot’s annoyed hiss behind her. Bile rose into her throat and she swallowed when she saw why Toadfoot had moved them on so quickly. A dead deer lay in the stream, its legs sticking out stiffly and blocking the way. Flies were buzzing around it, and a sweetish, rotting scent rose up to hang lazily in the air.

Dovepaw backed away quickly as the other cats came to see what she and Tigerheart were staring at.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Toadfoot mewed, cutting across their expressions of disgust. “I scented it—only faintly, because the wind’s behind us—and I wanted to stay well clear.”

“Quite right, too,” Whitetail responded. “It might have died because of some sickness.”

“More likely it died of thirst,” Rippletail added sadly.

The cats padded on, leaping down into the stream again once they had left the body of the deer far behind. A somber mood hung over them like a gray cloud; Dovepaw guessed that they were all thinking about how much their Clanmates needed water back at the lake.

“I don’t understand,” Dovepaw muttered to Lionblaze. “I should have scented the deer before Toadfoot, and I didn’t.”

Lionblaze shrugged. “Like he said, the wind was behind us. Besides…no offense, Dovepaw, but you smell like fish.”

Dovepaw let out a sigh. “Maybe—but I should have been more alert.” What else have I missed?

A few heartbeats later, Tigerheart dropped back to walk alongside her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“It was just a dead deer.” Dovepaw tried to sound as if the sight hadn’t shaken her. She didn’t want Tigerheart to start treating her like a helpless kit. “Look!” she meowed, angling her ears forward in the direction they were traveling. “The trees are thinning out!”

Successfully distracted, Tigerheart bounded ahead to take a better look. The rest of the patrol quickened their pace, too, and climbed out of the streambed to stand in a line on the edge of the trees. Dovepaw gazed out across a field where fluffy grayish-white animals were nibbling at the grass.

“What are they?” Petalfur exclaimed in surprise. “They look as if they’re made of cobwebs!”

“Oh, they’re just sheep,” Whitetail replied. “We see them all the time in WindClan.”

“Their pelts make good linings for nests,” Sedgewhisker added.

Whitetail took the lead as the patrol crept out into the field, following the line of the stream. Dovepaw felt uncomfortably exposed with nothing between her and the open sky, and she was grateful for the experience of the WindClan cats. Then behind her she heard a loud yapping and the scent of dog flooded over her, swamping her senses. Whipping around, she saw a Twoleg walking along the edge of the wood with a small brown-and-white dog trotting at its heels.

As soon as the dog scented the cats, it began racing toward them, yapping even louder. Dovepaw looked wildly around, but there were no trees to climb, except for the forest they had left.

“Run!” Toadfoot yowled.

Their paws pounding on the short grass, the patrol hurtled toward the opposite side of the field. Dovepaw cast a swift glance over her shoulder. “The dog’s gaining on us!” she gasped.

Whitetail glanced back too, then let out a loud caterwaul. “Head for the sheep!”

“What?” Tigerheart almost fell over his own paws as he whirled around. “Why the sheep?”

“Twolegs never let dogs near sheep,” Whitetail panted. “Maybe sheep are dangerous to dogs. Anyway, if we can reach them, we should be safe.”

As she raced toward the sheep, Dovepaw’s heart lurched with fear. But there was no choice, unless she wanted to stay out in the open with the dog. Along with the rest of the patrol, she dived among the legs of the weird animals.

The sheep had bunched together, uttering high-pitched cries that seemed to show the sheep were scared of the dog. Dovepaw caught a glimpse of it among the bulky gray bodies, dancing around a few tail-lengths from the sheep and still yapping its head off. The sheep began to swirl across the field, moving in one giant group. The cats had no choice but to move with them, frantically dodging skinny legs and sharp hooves. Dovepaw was squashed among the warm, greasy cobweb pelts, and she lost sight of the others. Help! Where have they all gone?

Above the noise of the sheep, she heard the Twoleg’s voice raised in a commanding yowl. The dog’s yapping broke off. Dovepaw couldn’t see it anymore, but she heard its paws falter on the grass and then retreat as it trotted reluctantly back to its Twoleg.

Gradually the sheep slowed down, then stopped close to the hedge on the far side of the field, still letting out their piercing bleats. Dovepaw wriggled to the edge of the flock and spotted Tigerheart and Lionblaze emerging together a few tail-lengths away. Toadfoot followed them into the open, with Petalfur and Rippletail behind him. A few heartbeats later Whitetail and Sedgewhisker appeared farther down.

“We need to get out of the field!” Whitetail called. “Go through the hedge!”

Dovepaw obeyed, dragging herself under thorny branches that raked across her back, keeping her belly pressed to the dried leaves and debris on the ground. On the other side was a strip of grass with a stretch of black stone beyond it, where the patrol gathered together again and stood panting.

Dovepaw’s eyes widened as she gazed at her companions. Their pelts were matted in clumps with wisps of sticky sheep-cobweb clinging to them, and a sour smell billowed around them like a cloud of flies. I’m just as bad, she thought disgustedly, pawing at a gray strand that clung to her shoulder. But at least none of us is hurt.

She bent her head to lick her chest fur, wincing at the foul taste, only to look up, startled, a moment later as the sound of thunder rolled around her. The sky was clear blue, with only a few tiny wisps of cloud being tossed by the wind. But the thunderous noise was growing louder still, and a bitter, burning scent swept over her.

Dovepaw glanced from side to side, confused by the noise and the stench and the sense of something huge and shining, solid as stone….

“Get back!” Lionblaze screeched.

He shoved Dovepaw and Petalfur into the prickly hedge. Dovepaw stumbled and half fell among the thorns as a gigantic silver creature roared past on round black paws.

“What…what was that?” she stammered, picking herself up.

“A monster,” Lionblaze told her, his voice tense. “They run along these Thunderpaths.” He waved his tail at the stretch of flat black stone. “We saw lots of them when we went to the Twolegplace to find Sol.”

“We had to cross Thunderpaths on the Great Journey, too,” Whitetail added, “and there was one that went past the old forest. They’re dangerous; we all need to be very careful.”

Dovepaw warily approached the edge of the Thunderpath and gave it an experimental sniff. Her nose wrinkled at the bitter scent. The rest of the patrol stood alongside her; Tigerheart set a paw cautiously on the hard black surface, then drew it back.

“We’d better stop hanging around,” Lionblaze meowed, “and get across while it’s still quiet.” Padding over to Dovepaw, he murmured, “Is it safe? Are there any more monsters coming?”

Dovepaw extended her senses, listening for another of the terrifying creatures, but there was nothing in either direction. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

“Right.” Lionblaze raised his voice. “Follow me as quick as you can, and don’t stop!”

He thrust off from the grass verge and bounded across the Thunderpath. Dovepaw followed, keeping her gaze fixed on him, but aware of the other cats running alongside. They reached the strip of grass on the far side only to be brought up short by a fence of shiny, crisscrossing silver stuff that stretched up far above Dovepaw’s head.

“Now what do we do?” Rippletail wailed. “We can’t go any farther this way.”

“Over here!” Toadfoot called from a few tail-lengths along the fence. “There’s a hole I think we can wriggle through.”

He flattened himself to the ground and pulled himself forward through a narrow gap at the bottom of the fence, standing up a few heartbeats later on the grass on the other side. “Come on, it’s easy,” he urged his companions.

Whitetail followed him through and then Dovepaw did the same, shivering at the touch of the hard Twoleg stuff against her back as she squirmed through the gap. The rest of the cats followed, with Lionblaze keeping watch until they were safely on the other side. Finally he struggled through, grunting with the effort as he pushed himself along.

Dovepaw stood still, looking around. A smooth field stretched in front of her, the grass much greener than she had seen it anywhere else since the heat and the drought began. Beyond it were Twoleg nests built of some kind of red rock. Dovepaw had never imagined that there could be so many Twoleg nests all in one place. Noise poured out from them like clap after clap of thunder; she shook as the din swept around her, flooding her senses. Twolegs were screeching and chattering, banging and roaring, in an endless surge of sound.

Desperately Dovepaw tried to block it out, to focus on the cats around her, and on what she could see directly in front of her. Only then did she realize what she couldn’t see.

“Where’s the stream?” she gasped.

CHAPTER 16

Lionblaze heard panic in his apprentice’s wail and saw the fear in her eyes. Quietly he padded over to her and rested his tail on her shoulders. “Calm down,” he murmured. “It’ll be okay.”

Rippletail was looking around. “Water doesn’t run uphill,” the RiverClan cat meowed, “so the stream must be somewhere over there.” He pointed with his tail to a line of long grass at the bottom of a green slope.

“Let’s check it out,” Toadfoot suggested.

He let Rippletail take the lead as the cats trotted in single file alongside the silver fence. Before they had covered many fox-lengths, Lionblaze heard loud Twoleg voices coming from the other side of the field. A group of Twoleg kits erupted into the open, shouting noisily and kicking what looked like a smooth, round boulder with their hind paws.

“Hurry!” he called to his companions as the young Twolegs ran across the grass toward them.

Every cat picked up the pace until they were racing with their tails streaming out. Lionblaze felt the ground shake under his paws as the young Twolegs came nearer, still yowling and kicking the boulder-thing back and forth between them. With a gasp of relief he plunged into the cover of the long grass at the bottom of the slope, but his gasp changed to a screech of alarm as the ground gave way under his paws. He rolled and bumped down a shallow cliff, paws and tail thrashing, and landed with a thump on hard, pebble-strewn earth.

“It’s the stream!” Petalfur mewed.

Dazed, Lionblaze sat up and looked around. He was back in the dry streambed, with overhanging grasses almost meeting above his head. His companions were scattered beside him, picking themselves up and examining scraped pads and snagged fur.

“I’ve swallowed every piece of the grit in this stream!” Tigerheart complained, spitting.

“No, you haven’t,” Toadfoot growled, giving his pelt a shake. “It’s all over my fur!”

Lionblaze spotted Dovepaw crouching beside a jutting rock, her eyes glazed with fear. “I should have heard the Twolegs coming!” she whispered. “I should have known what was going to happen and warned you.”

Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder at the other cats, who were getting ready to move off again. “Dovepaw has some gravel in her pad,” he called. “We need to lick it out; we’ll be with you in a couple of heartbeats.”

Then he leaned over Dovepaw so that no other cat could hear what he was saying. “You’re not responsible for all of us. You’re on this mission because you were the first to sense the brown animals blocking the stream, but that doesn’t mean that the rest of us can’t hear and see things and protect ourselves.”

Dovepaw blinked up at him unhappily. “I hate it here, so close to the Twolegplace,” she murmured. “It’s too much—all the sounds and scents and images in my head. I can’t cope with it! I can only concentrate on what is close by.” Her eyes widened into huge pools of misery. “It’s like being blind!”

Lionblaze bent his head and touched his nose to her ear in a gesture of comfort. At the same time he pushed away a stab of worry that Dovepaw had needed to block out so much to cope with the stress of being in a strange territory. He realized how much he had been depending on her to tell them what was up ahead.

We’ll be fine without her powers, he reassured himself. After all, other cats have made journeys with just their ordinary senses.

“It’ll be okay,” he mewed. “At least we’ve found the stream again.” He could still hear the noise of Twolegs beyond the tall grass, their loud voices interspersed with thumps of the smooth boulder-thing.

“That can’t possibly be a rock,” Sedgewhisker observed, her ears quivering. “They would break their paws if it was.”

Just as she finished speaking, the boulder crashed into the long grass ahead of them and lodged at the very edge of the bank. Tigerheart and Sedgewhisker darted forward to take a look at it.

“Be careful!” Whitetail and Toadfoot called out in the same heartbeat, then gave each other an embarrassed glance.

The two younger warriors didn’t take any notice. Tigerheart scrambled up the side of the streambed and gave the boulder a nudge with his nose.

“It’s not a rock!” he meowed in surprise. “Look!” He gave the boulder another nudge and it bounced away from him, lighter than a twig.

“Mouse-brain!” Lionblaze hissed. He ran forward and gave the boulder a harder shove, sending it farther off. “Keep away,” he warned Tigerheart and Sedgewhisker. “It’s a Twoleg thing!”

Before the three cats could hide in the streambed again, one of the young Twolegs came blundering through the long grass, yowling to his companions. Lionblaze guessed that he was looking for the round thing.

“Hide!” he hissed. “Keep down!”

He crouched down beside Tigerheart and Sedgewhisker, feeling very exposed with only the grass stems to hide him. Tigerheart was tense with alarm, but Sedgewhisker seemed perfectly comfortable, keeping still and silent, not even blinking, as her gaze followed the young Twoleg.

That figures, Lionblaze thought. WindClan cats are used to hunting without ground cover.

Several moons seemed to pass before the Twoleg found the round thing and ran off with it. Gradually the noise from the Twolegs died away. The three cats slid down into the stream again; Toadfoot was waiting for his Clanmate with his neck fur bristling.

“Are you completely mouse-brained?” he demanded. “Do you want Twolegs to catch you?”

“Sorry,” Tigerheart mumbled.

Whitetail glared at Sedgewhisker, who ducked her head apologetically.

“Let’s get a move on,” Toadfoot meowed. “We’ve wasted enough time here.” He set off at a run, glancing back to add, “The brown animals won’t be anywhere around here, right?”

“Er…right,” Dovepaw stammered.

The stream skirted the green expanse where the Twolegs were playing, then ran between rows of Twoleg nests, with neat patches of grass that stretched down to the bank. Trees overhung the channel; Lionblaze was thankful for the shade and the cover, especially when he heard the yowls of young Twolegs coming from their nests.

Popping his head up above the bank from time to time, he spotted Twoleg kits chasing one another or kicking more of the smooth, round things. Once he saw a young Twoleg screeching happily as it swung from a tree on a piece of wood suspended between two long tendrils.

“What do you think that is?” he asked Whitetail, who had climbed up beside him.

“I have no idea.” The WindClan she-cat shrugged. “Whatever it is, the kit is having fun.”

Sunhigh came and went as the cats padded onward up the stream. Lionblaze’s belly began to rumble; it seemed a long time since their fresh-kill in the early morning. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker seemed excited by something; their ears were pricked and their whiskers quivered, and they kept whispering to each other.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

Sedgewhisker turned to him, her eyes glowing. “We can scent rabbits!”

“What?” Toadfoot halted with a scornful flick of his tail. “Have you got bees in your brain? Rabbits wouldn’t live this close to Twolegs.”

“Yeah, the Twolegs would probably hunt them,” Tigerheart added.

“There are rabbits,” Whitetail insisted, giving the ShadowClan cats a withering glare. “And not far away, either.” She began stalking up the streambed, nostrils twitching; Sedgewhisker padded at her shoulder.

Lionblaze turned to Dovepaw. “Are they right?”

To his disappointment, his apprentice just gave a shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve still got my senses blocked,” she muttered. She looked up at him with a fierce glare. “I can’t help it, okay? There’s just too much noise to cope with!”

“Okay,” Lionblaze soothed before the other cats wondered what they were talking about.

Suddenly Whitetail streaked away with Sedgewhisker hard on her paws. The WindClan warriors shot up the side of the bank and vanished through the thick grass that bordered the stream.

“Fox dung!” Toadfoot hissed, heading after them.

Lionblaze and the other cats followed, then stopped dead as they reached the top of the bank and peered through the clumps of grass.

“There is a rabbit!” Petalfur breathed. “Two rabbits!”

Water flooded Lionblaze’s jaws as he eyed the creatures: They were young and plump, with thick black-and-white pelts. They sat nibbling on the patch of grass that stretched as far as the Twoleg nest, quite unaware that hunters were nearby. For some reason they were surrounded by a fence of shiny Twoleg stuff, but it was low enough for a cat to scramble over easily.

Whitetail and Sedgewhisker were already crouched on the grass, ready to spring; Lionblaze flattened himself to the ground and crept up to join them, aware of Toadfoot just behind him and the rest of the patrol fanning out to intercept any rabbit that might make a dash for safety. He saw Whitetail bunch her muscles to leap over the fence. A heartbeat later she froze as a loud yowl came from a tree a few tail-lengths away.

“Hey! You! Hold it right there!”

Lionblaze stared in astonishment as three kittypets leaped down from the tree and raced across the grass to stand between the WindClan cats and the rabbits. In the lead was an orange tom with glaring yellow eyes, followed by a small white she-cat and a fat black-and-brown tabby tom.

The orange tom planted himself right in front of Whitetail; his two companions stood just behind him. They both looked terrified, their fur fluffed out and their ears flattened.

“You can’t hunt these rabbits,” the orange tom declared, baring his teeth in the beginnings of a snarl.

“Oh, yeah?” Sedgewhisker rose from her hunter’s crouch to stand nose to nose with the kittypet. “We’ll fight you for them, if that’s what you want. You should lay more scent markers if you want cats to stay out of your territory!”

“Territory?” The white she-cat sounded confused. “What are you meowing about?”

“Territory!” Toadfoot snarled, padding up to stand beside Sedgewhisker. “Don’t pretend you’re so dumb that you don’t know what territory is.”

“This is my housefolk’s nest,” the black-and-brown tom mewed.

“But the rabbits aren’t in the nest, are they?” Whitetail sounded as if she was talking to particularly stupid kits. “Unless this territory is scent-marked, they’re free for any cat to hunt.”

“No, they’re not,” the orange tom insisted, his neck fur bristling up.

Tigerheart narrowed his eyes. “Look, kittypet—”

“This is ridiculous,” Sedgewhisker interrupted impatiently. “There are two perfectly good rabbits waiting to be caught, and all we can do is argue. Are you hunting them?” she asked the kittypets. “Because—”

All three kittypets let out gasps of horror, their eyes stretched wide.

“No!” the tabby tom exclaimed. “Those rabbits belong to my housefolk.”

“We would be in big trouble if we hunted them,” the orange tom added.

“That’s right,” the white she-cat meowed. “Every cat around here knows about the tom who hunted his housefolk’s rabbit.” Her voice grew hushed. “They took him to the Cutter, and he was never the same afterward.”

Lionblaze and the other Clan cats exchanged puzzled glances. “Now I’ve heard everything,” Rippletail remarked. “Kittypets guarding Twoleg rabbits!”

“So what?” Toadfoot growled. “I’m going to get the rabbits anyway. They look fat and slow enough for any cat to catch, not just WindClan.”

He hurled himself at the shiny fence and started to claw his way up it. Immediately the orange tom grabbed Toadfoot’s tail in his teeth and yanked him down again.

Toadfoot scrambled to his paws and spun around, claws extended. “Back off, kittypet!” he spat. “Do you think I’ll let you stop me?”

“No.” Lionblaze shouldered his way between the two cats. “We’ll look elsewhere for prey.”

“Right.” Whitetail sounded disappointed, but her voice was firm. “These rabbits are too well protected. We can’t risk getting injured now.”

Toadfoot went on glaring at the orange tom for a heartbeat longer, then shrugged angrily and turned away. The three kittypets stood in front of the fence and watched as the Clan cats padded across the grass and toward the streambed.

Even though Lionblaze had prevented the fight, he was still finding it hard to control his anger. What a waste of rabbits. We could all have had a good meal.

“Those kittypets think they’ve won!” Toadfoot exclaimed. He cast a last glance over his shoulder before he leaped back into the stream. “Look at them! I’d like to wipe those smug looks off their faces.”

“But Whitetail’s right: We can’t,” Petalfur reminded him. “We have to stay safe until we find the water.”

“Right,” Toadfoot muttered darkly. “But just wait till we’re on the way back….”

The patrol continued in silence until they left the Twoleg nests behind. The gardens gave way to a prickly copse with young trees poking out of a tangle of undergrowth.

“I think we should stop here and find something to eat,” Rippletail suggested.

Lionblaze could see that he and Petalfur were looking dull-eyed with exhaustion again. “Good idea,” he agreed, seeing Toadfoot curl his lip in frustration. “We don’t know when there’ll be another chance.”

The ShadowClan warrior let out an exaggerated sigh. “All right, let’s get it over with. And let’s hope we don’t have any more dumb kittypets getting in our way.”

Dovepaw’s tail shot up. “I can hear a bird over there,” she murmured to Lionblaze, angling her ears toward the other side of the copse. “It’s banging a snail against a stone.”

Lionblaze listened, but he couldn’t hear a thing. “Go for it,” he meowed, pleased that his apprentice was managing to use her extra-keen senses again.

Dovepaw scampered off happily, while Lionblaze stood for a moment tasting the air until he detected a squirrel near the top of a nearby tree. Swarming up the trunk, he had reached the branch underneath his quarry when a loud meow rang out from the ground below.

“Hello again!”

The squirrel sat straight up, startled, then bolted, hurling itself into the air and vanishing into the foliage of the next tree. Lionblaze let out an exasperated snort. Looking down, he spotted the white she-cat from the Twoleg nest with rabbits; she stood at the foot of his tree, gazing up at him with friendly green eyes.

“You just scared off my next meal,” Lionblaze complained, scrambling down to join her.

“Sorry.” The white kittypet blinked at him. “I just wanted to watch you hunting. I figured you’d stop here, since you tried to get those rabbits. Do you really have to feed yourselves? We sometimes catch mice, but it’s not like we have to. I mean, who’d want to eat fur and bones?”

Plenty of cats, Lionblaze thought when the kittypet paused for breath. Could she truly be that clueless? Spotting another squirrel at the edge of a bramble thicket, he gave her a quick nod of farewell and stalked off after it.

But the white she-cat followed him. “Are you hunting that squirrel?” she asked. “Can I watch? I’ll be quiet.”

Too late! Lionblaze groaned as the squirrel’s ears pricked; it leaped up the nearest tree to sit and chatter angrily at them from a low branch before disappearing.

“My name’s Snowdrop,” the white cat gabbled on, oblivious of what she had done. “The orange tom is called Seville, and the black-and-brown tabby is Jigsaw. Thanks for leaving the rabbits alone. It’s true about what happened to that other cat, the one who ate his housefolk’s rabbit.”

Lionblaze took a deep breath and turned to face her. “It’s nice to chat and all,” he mewed through gritted teeth, “but I’m kind of busy.”

He could have saved his breath; he could see Snowdrop wouldn’t have recognized a hint if it hit her over the head.

“What are you all doing here?” she meowed, peering through the trees at the other cats who were stalking their prey in peace. “Have you run away from your housefolk? Did you get lost? Are you looking for the way home?”

Lionblaze raised his tail in an effort to stem the flood of questions. “No, we’re not kittypets,” he meowed, trying not to feel offended. “We live in Clans, by a lake downstream from here.”

“Clans?” Snowdrop sounded bewildered.

“A whole bunch of cats who live together,” Lionblaze explained. “We have a leader—”

“What’s all this racket about?” Fronds of bracken parted to reveal Toadfoot, his fur bristling in annoyance. He dropped the mouse he was carrying. “For StarClan’s sake, you’re making enough noise to scare away all the prey between here and the lake.”

“Hello.” Snowdrop seemed quite unworried by the ShadowClan cat’s bad temper. “My name’s Snowdrop. What’s yours?”

Toadfoot exchanged a surprised glance with Lionblaze. “Never mind that,” he mewed briskly to Snowdrop. “We’re on a mission, and you can’t help us, so please leave us alone.”

Snowdrop’s eyes stretched wide. “Oh, wow, a mission!”

“We’re looking for the water,” Lionblaze explained as the rest of his patrol padded up to find out what was going on. Dovepaw brought her thrush, and Rippletail proudly deposited a vole beside it. “We think there are some brown animals blocking the stream.”

“Oh, really? I’ve often wondered what happened,” Snowdrop chirped. “I used to like the stream. It was good to lie on the grass and watch the insects buzzing over the water.”

Toadfoot rolled his eyes.

“Can I come with you?” Snowdrop mewed suddenly. “It would be fun! Maybe the brown animals are dogs—do you think so? Or giant rabbits!”

“No, sorry, you can’t come,” Rippletail meowed. “You wouldn’t be able to look after yourself.”

Snowdrop’s gaze fell on the few pieces of fresh-kill the Clan cats had managed to catch. “You don’t seem to be too good at that yourselves,” she commented.

“We’re fine,” Rippletail replied. “Now run back to your housefolk.”

Toadfoot waved his tail for the patrol to move off. “We’ll eat later,” he growled.

Whitetail grabbed Dovepaw’s thrush while Petalfur picked up the mouse and Lionblaze took the vole. Before jumping into the stream again, he glanced back to see Snowdrop sitting where they had left her, watching them go. Her head was drooping unhappily.

Feeling guilty for abandoning her, Lionblaze darted back. “Here, would you like a bite of vole?” he offered, dropping it at her paws.

Snowdrop’s gaze filled with horror. “With fur and everything? No way!”

Lionblaze heard snorts of amusement coming from his companions. “Okay, bye then,” he mewed hurriedly and ran off to join them, remembering at the last moment to take the vole with him.

The sun had gone down by the time the patrol set out again. In the twilight they came to a steep-sided valley where the trees were much older, with spreading trunks and gnarled branches. Whitetail, scouting ahead, found a split in a huge hollow tree, the floor covered in a thick layer of dead leaves, where there was room for all of them to curl up and sleep.

“Well done!” Lionblaze yawned. “We’ll be safe in here from anything.”

He still thought it best to set up a lookout; exhausted from the night before, when he had taken Dovepaw’s shift as well as his own, he didn’t argue when Rippletail volunteered to take the first watch. He crawled inside the tree, noticing that no cat seemed to be particularly bothered now about whose pelt they brushed against as they lay down, and curled up gratefully beside Dovepaw. He was asleep within moments.

After what felt like just a heartbeat, Lionblaze was awakened by a prodding in his ribs. Moonlight trickling through the split in the trunk revealed Dovepaw looking down at him, her eyes shining.

“What’s the matter?” he muttered.

“I can hear the brown animals!” Dovepaw told him, twitching her tail with excitement. “We’re nearly there!”

CHAPTER 17

Jayfeather lifted his head and tasted the air, which had cooled a little as evening approached. A faint breeze rustled the branches of the trees above the stone hollow and stirred the dust on the floor of his den. A few cats were gathered around the meager fresh-kill pile; their soft voices drifted through the bramble screen, reaching Jayfeather in a blur of sound.

Sighing, he wished that he had Dovepaw’s far-reaching senses, so that he could track her and Lionblaze and the rest of the patrol. They had been gone two days now, and Jayfeather had no idea whether they were still searching, or whether they had found the brown animals and the trapped water. The night before, he had tried to walk in Lionblaze’s dreams and had found himself padding up the dry bed of the stream, with unfamiliar trees arching their branches overhead. He had picked up his brother’s scent, and once he thought he spotted the tip of a golden tail whisking away around a boulder just ahead of him. But however fast he ran he couldn’t catch up, and Lionblaze didn’t respond when he called out.

He’s too far away, Jayfeather thought regretfully as he woke, his legs aching as if he really had tried to pursue his littermate. There’s no way you can catch him now.

His pelt itched with the longing to tell Lionblaze about his encounter with Breezepelt on the lake the day before. He was still shaken by the hatred that had emanated from the WindClan cat, and he seemed to hear the voices of the Ancient Clan, whispering warnings that he couldn’t quite make out.

I can’t believe that mangy flea-pelt is my half brother!

The bramble screen rustled as a cat brushed past it; Jayfeather recognized Dustpelt’s scent.

“I’ve come for more of those herbs,” Dustpelt announced, then added reluctantly, “My back feels much better today, so they must have done some good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jayfeather replied. “Hang on, and I’ll get them.”

As he headed for the storage cleft at the back of the den, Dustpelt called after him, “I don’t want them if another cat needs them more.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jayfeather replied. He collected a few leaves of tansy and some of daisy from the store and headed back to the tabby warrior. “Eat those,” he ordered, pushing the tansy toward his Clanmate.

While Dustpelt was licking up the herbs, Jayfeather chewed up the daisy leaves and made a poultice to spread on the base of the ThunderClan warrior’s spine, where the pain was worst.

“Thanks,” Dustpelt meowed. As he was heading out of the den he paused, acute embarrassment flooding from his pelt. “Ferncloud said I had to thank you from her, too. She said I was being really annoying, complaining about backache without doing anything about it.”

“Surely not,” Jayfeather murmured, faintly amused, as the tabby warrior padded off toward the warriors’ den.

The sound of Dustpelt’s paw steps had hardly died away when another cat popped her head around the bramble screen.

“Hi, Cinderheart,” Jayfeather mewed, breathing in her scent and picking up her anxiety along with it. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Poppyfrost,” the gray she-cat replied, slipping into the den.

“What’s the matter with her?” Alarm leaped in Jayfeather like a jumping fish. “Is it her kits?”

“Oh, no, she’s doing well physically,” Cinderheart told him. “Her belly is about the right size, and there’s no sign of fever or vomiting.”

“Good,” Jayfeather murmured. And you would know—Cinderpelt, he added privately to himself. Only he and Leafpool knew the strange truth about Cinderheart, that she had lived in ThunderClan before as the medicine cat Cinderpelt, who had died saving Sorreltail from a badger at the moment Cinderheart was born. Cinderheart had no idea why she knew so much about herbs, or why memories of ThunderClan’s former home haunted her dreams. Leafpool and Jayfeather had agreed long ago not to tell her; she was a warrior in her own right, and if StarClan had chosen to give Cinderpelt a second chance, they would not interfere.

“It’s just that she’s so quiet and sad,” Cinderheart went on. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

Jayfeather was puzzled. What sort of help does she expect? “I don’t want to give Poppyfrost herbs,” he began, “not when she’s expecting kits, unless it’s really urgent.”

“Yes, but—”

“You told me she’s not ill,” Jayfeather went on, ignoring the she-cat’s protest. “If everything’s okay—”

“It’s not okay,” Cinderheart interrupted in her turn. “Nothing’s okay,” she added wretchedly. “Oh, Jayfeather, I miss Hollyleaf so much!”

Jayfeather felt as though some cat had hurled a rock into his belly. He tried hard every day not to think about his sister, and every day he failed. “So do I,” he replied quietly.

“Yes, you must.” Cinderheart’s tone was full of sympathy. “Losing a littermate is the worst thing ever. Maybe that’s why Poppyfrost is so sad, because Honeyfern’s gone.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Jayfeather.”

She turned and padded out of the den; Jayfeather pictured her head drooping and her tail trailing in the dust. When she had gone, he slipped inside the storage cleft again and turned over his dwindling stock of herbs. Poppy seed…tansy…borage…No, there’s nothing here that will help a cat who’s just sad. And there was nothing any cat could say or do that would stop Poppyfrost from grieving for her dead sister.

Curling up in his nest of moss and fern, Jayfeather let himself drift into sleep and turned his paws in the direction of Poppyfrost’s dreams. To his surprise, he found himself on the steep, rocky path leading to the Moonpool. The moon shed its pale light over the boulders and moorland grass on either side, and it gleamed on the tortoiseshell fur of the young cat slipping quietly ahead of him.

“Poppyfrost!” Jayfeather called.

The young cat started, then slowly turned to face him; starlight glittered in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Jayfeather asked her.

Poppyfrost seemed unsurprised to see that he was the cat who was following her. “I’ve dreamed of this mountain path so many times since Honeyfern died,” she explained. “I want to see her so much, and I can hear her calling to me from somewhere up there.” She nodded to the top of the ridge, silhouetted against the star-filled sky.

Jayfeather pricked his ears, straining in an effort to hear the young she-cat’s voice. But there was nothing except the faint whisper of the wind over the grass. “I can’t hear her,” he meowed.

“I can.” Poppyfrost was calm and clear-eyed as she spoke, though her voice betrayed her longing for her dead sister.

Jayfeather’s paws tingled. Poppyfrost had set her paws on a path that was walked only by medicine cats. “You should come back to the hollow,” he told her. He remembered how he had saved her life a long time ago, by guiding her back from StarClan when she was a tiny kit with greencough. She had come willingly enough then, not ready to leave behind the Clanmates she had only just begun to know. “This place isn’t for you.”

“No, I must go on!” Poppyfrost spun around and ran up the narrow track, faster and faster until she vanished into a swirl of mist. Her voice drifted faintly back to him. “I have to see Honeyfern!”

Jayfeather woke with a jolt, his paws scrabbling among churned-up moss. Warm air stirred against his face, telling him that the sun was already up. His pads ached as though he had really spent the night trekking into the mountains. Yawning, he dragged himself out of his nest and padded into the clearing. Sunrays were spilling through the trees above the camp, scorching the bare ground. Jayfeather tried to picture the hollow as it had been, green and cool, knowing that everything now would be parched to a brittle brown.

A worm of worry was gnawing at his belly. Trying to ignore it, he padded across to the nursery and stuck his head inside the entrance. He could hear the soft breathing of sleeping cats, and he scented Ferncloud, Daisy, and Poppyfrost huddled together in a mound of fur. Slightly reassured, he crept away without disturbing them.

But I’ll keep an eye on Poppyfrost, he decided.

“This is a dock leaf,” Jayfeather announced, snagging it in his claws and holding it up so that all the apprentices could see it.

“Like we don’t know,” Ivypaw muttered.

Jayfeather bit back a stinging rebuke. He knew that the young apprentice was still grumpy because Dovepaw had gone on the mission without her, and he couldn’t entirely blame her. But Firestar had asked him to give all the apprentices some basic training in the use of herbs, and Ivypaw had to learn the same things as the others, whether she liked it or not.

“Dock leaves are good for rubbing on sore pads,” he went on, ignoring the young cat’s bad temper for now. “And you can find them pretty well anywhere, so they’re one of the most useful herbs.”

“So, like, if we went on a long journey, we should look out for dock?” Bumblepaw asked.

Oops, you shouldn’t have said that, Jayfeather thought, as Ivypaw let out an angry hiss at her denmate.

“That’s right,” he replied. “Or if you step on a sharp stone,” he added, trying to take the focus off traveling.

“Wouldn’t we need cobweb for that?” Briarpaw mewed.

“Only if the skin has broken,” Jayfeather told her. “And that’s true of all wounds, of course, especially serious ones where the cat is losing a lot of blood. For smaller scratches and scrapes, we use marigold or horsetail to stop the bleeding. These are leaves of marigold,” he went on, holding one up. “I don’t have any horsetail right now; you should ask your mentors to look for it when you go out for training, and it would be great if you could bring some back.”

“And what if some cat eats bad food, or some nasty Twoleg stuff like our mother told us RiverClan cats did once?” Blossompaw chirped. “What do you give them then?”

“That’s a bit complicated for now,” Jayfeather mewed. “Today we’re learning about soreness and minor wounds. You’ll meet those almost every day, whereas cats are only poisoned once a season, if that.”

“But we should know what to do, right?” Bumblepaw argued.

“You’re not going to be medicine cats,” Jayfeather began. “More serious illnesses—”

To his relief he heard paw steps approaching and picked up Thornclaw’s scent as the tabby warrior poked his head around the bramble screen.

“Are you done?” he meowed. “The other mentors and I want to go out for some hunting practice.”

“Yes! Hunting!” Blossompaw sprang to her paws. “I’ll catch the biggest rabbit in the forest!”

“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” Thornclaw mewed drily. “Can I take them, Jayfeather?”

“You’re welcome to,” Jayfeather replied with feeling. “Remember that horsetail!” he called after the apprentices as they bundled out of the den and dashed off across the clearing.

Once they had gone, Jayfeather padded out and headed for the elders’ den. When he pushed his way under the hazel boughs, he found Mousefur and Purdy still sleeping, curled up companionably near the trunk of the bush. Longtail was awake, and he stretched as Jayfeather entered.

“Hi,” he meowed. “I was hoping you’d stop by.”

Anxiety pricked Jayfeather like a nettle when he heard how frail the elder sounded. He had always thought of Longtail as a young cat, living in the elders’ den only because of his blindness, but now he realized that he was growing old as well.

“What can I do for you?” he asked Longtail.

“I wondered if there’s any news about the cats who went upstream,” the blind warrior replied. “Has any cat discovered what is stopping the water?”

“We haven’t heard anything more,” Jayfeather told him. I’m certainly not going to give away Dovepaw’s secret! “You know as much as I do.”

Longtail sighed. “It’s not enough. No cat will be happy until they’re home safe.”

“I know, but there’s nothing—”

“Jayfeather!” The loud whisper interrupted what he had been about to say; Jayfeather detected Ferncloud’s scent and turned to face her.

“What’s the matter? Is some cat ill?”

“No, but we can’t find Poppyfrost. Have you seen her?”

Jayfeather didn’t bother reminding her that he couldn’t see anything. “She was asleep in the nursery earlier.”

“Well, she’s not there now.” Ferncloud sounded puzzled rather than worried.

“She hasn’t been here, either,” Longtail told her.

“I can’t find her anywhere!” Daisy pushed her way through the branches, nearly knocking Jayfeather onto Mousefur’s sleeping body. “She’s not in the apprentices’ den, and she hasn’t gone to make dirt, and—”

“It’s getting too crowded in here.” Jayfeather gave the she-cat a gentle push back toward the clearing. “If we’re not careful, we’ll wake Mousefur and Purdy, and then we’ll never hear the end of it.” As he herded Daisy and Ferncloud back into the clearing, he turned his head and meowed to Longtail, “If I find out anything about the blocked stream, I’ll let you know, I promise.”

“Thanks, Jayfeather,” the blind elder meowed.

Outside in the clearing, Jayfeather faced the two queens. “Right, tell me from the beginning.”

“When I woke up, Poppyfrost wasn’t in the nursery,” Daisy mewed. “Ferncloud didn’t know where she’d gone. We weren’t worried at first, but when she didn’t come back we started to look for her.”

“She’s not in the camp,” Ferncloud added.

Jayfeather wasn’t sure how worried he ought to be. Poppyfrost was at least a moon away from having her kits, so she wouldn’t do herself any harm if she had just gone for a walk.

“We ought to tell some cat,” Daisy suggested.

“But who?” Ferncloud asked reasonably. “Firestar has taken a patrol to fetch water; Brackenfur and Sorreltail are out hunting with Brambleclaw—”

“Cinderheart is training her apprentice,” Jayfeather added. And it won’t do any good to tell Berrynose, he thought, remembering how brusquely the cream-colored warrior had treated his mate when they met by the lake. “I don’t think you ought to worry,” he went on. “Poppyfrost has probably gone to stretch her legs, or maybe to get a drink of water.”

“You’re probably right,” Ferncloud meowed, sounding relieved.

Waves of anxiety were still coming from Daisy’s pelt, but she didn’t protest when Ferncloud urged her gently back to the nursery.

Jayfeather padded back to his den and headed for the storage cleft to sort out some herbs for Dustpelt. He hadn’t exactly been telling the truth when he told the tabby warrior he had plenty of what he needed to ease the stiffness in his back. He hadn’t wanted to admit that the stocks of tansy were getting dangerously low, in case Dustpelt refused to take any more.

His head deep in the storage cleft, Jayfeather sensed rather than heard movement outside the den. As he backed out, he picked up Daisy’s scent. “Come in, Daisy,” he mewed, stifling a sigh. He wasn’t surprised that she had come to see him; he knew she was making herself frantic over the absent queen.

The she-cat brushed past the bramble screen and halted in front of Jayfeather, her claws working in the dry ground. “I’m so worried about Poppyfrost! She’s been really down lately.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jayfeather asked, remembering what Cinderheart had told him. “There’s nothing the matter with her kits. They’re fine inside her; I’ve heard them squirming around. And the warriors are making sure she gets plenty of water and fresh-kill.”

“It’s not that,” Daisy meowed with an impatient flick of her tail. “It’s Berrynose. Poppyfrost thinks he doesn’t love her.”

Jayfeather stifled a groan. I really don’t have time for this! “Well, Berrynose did love Honeyfern first.”

Daisy let out a shocked gasp. “I can’t believe you said that, Jayfeather! It shouldn’t matter who Berrynose loved before, now that he’s with Poppyfrost.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “Maybe it does.” It seems logical to me. Every cat knows that Berrynose wanted Honeyfern for his mate, and then she was killed by the snake.

“Poppyfrost is afraid that Berrynose doesn’t want her or the kits,” Daisy went on. “She thinks he wants Honeyfern back.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Jayfeather pointed out.

“I know that!” Daisy snapped. “But Poppyfrost isn’t being logical.”

You can say that again! Jayfeather sighed inwardly.

Daisy scraped the packed earth with her claws. “What if she’s decided to leave the Clan forever?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Jayfeather reassured her. StarClan save me from fussing she-cats! “But I’ll have a word with Firestar when he gets back from his water patrol. Maybe some cats can go looking for her.” Though I’m not sure which cats we can spare, with so many needed for hunting and training and water patrols.

Gently he guided Daisy out of his den and across the clearing to the nursery. He could sense that she still wasn’t happy, but he didn’t see what more he could do.

Once she was back inside, Jayfeather headed for the rock wall to check the holes for any sign that the snake might have paid another visit. Sunhigh was just past, and the ground was scorching hot, burning his pads; the basking rock was far too hot for the elders to be sunning themselves there.

At least I don’t have to deal with Purdy this time!

As he pulled out the stones that were blocking the holes so that he could get a good sniff, Jayfeather pictured the day when Honeyfern died. Wincing, he let Berrynose’s horror flood over him as he watched the young she-cat writhing in agony from the poison. The warrior’s grief lingered at the foot of the cliff like a memory, soaking into the stones themselves.

It was enough to make Berrynose wish that he had been bitten by the snake instead of Honeyfern. If Poppyfrost knows that, she has good reason to run away.

Jayfeather paused halfway through rolling the last stone back into its hole. He suddenly had an awful suspicion about where Poppyfrost might be.

Leaving the hollow, he slipped under the forest trees, thankful for the cool shade and the air that felt so damp he could almost drink it. Poking out his parched tongue, he tried to lap it, but that only made him feel thirstier than ever.

Mouse-brain! What are you, a kit?

Giving himself a shake, Jayfeather headed through the trees up to the ridge that overlooked the lake. The air was hot and dry, sweeping across him in a scorching wind that carried the scents and sounds of cats up from the waterside. He knew what the lake looked like from his dreams; now he tried to picture it as much smaller, surrounded by dried mud and stones.

Even the underground tunnels will be dry by now.

Padding along the ridge, Jayfeather stopped every few paces to taste the air. Finally he picked up Poppyfrost’s scent on a clump of long grass. Yes! I was right. He followed the traces along the spine of the hill until he reached the WindClan border. Poppyfrost’s scent was just discernible beneath the WindClan scent markers.

Jayfeather’s heart sank as he confirmed what he had suspected all along. Poppyfrost was trying to retrace the path she had followed in her dreams, all the way to the Moonpool.

Mouse-brained cat!

Following his Clanmate’s scent, Jayfeather set off along the path to the Moonpool. But before he had taken many paw steps, he picked up another scent, slightly fresher than Poppyfrost’s and overlying it, as if the cat it belonged to was following her.

Breezepelt! What’s he doing here?

CHAPTER 18

Dovepaw felt her pelt stand on end with excitement as she looked at her mentor, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight that shone through the cleft in the hollow tree.

“What can you sense?” he asked in a murmur low enough not to wake the sleeping cats, or to reach Petalfur on watch outside.

Dovepaw closed her eyes. “Scraping sounds through the ground,” she whispered. “The sound of teeth gnawing wood…and the crash of trees falling! The brown animals are dragging the trees to the stream and setting them in place, lodged tightly together like a wall.” She took a deep breath. “Oh—I can sense the water! It’s trapped behind the trees…. What are these creatures?”

She opened her eyes again to see Lionblaze looking alarmed, though his expression quickly changed to a look of determination when he saw she was watching him. “How many animals are there?” he meowed.

“I’m not sure….” Dovepaw tried to concentrate on the brown animals as they moved among the fallen trees, but she couldn’t get the picture clear enough to count them all. “Fewer than our patrol, I think.”

Lionblaze touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail. “It’ll be okay,” he reassured her.

Dovepaw couldn’t share his confidence. What she hadn’t told her mentor was that these animals wouldn’t be easy to fight. They were much heavier than cats, dense and low to the ground, so it would be hard to flip them onto their bellies. They had long, sharp teeth and powerful clawed feet; she shivered at the thought of the wounds they could inflict. The fear that she could be leading the patrol into a battle they couldn’t win weighed in her belly like a stone.

Lionblaze crept out of the hollow tree to relieve Petalfur on her watch. Dovepaw had already done her shift, so she settled down to sleep, but she couldn’t block out the sounds from further upstream. She jerked back into wakefulness every time a tree crashed down, or a branch grated harshly as it was dragged across another. She was still trying to rest when pale dawn light filtered into the hollow tree and the other cats began to stir around her.

“Great StarClan!” Tigerheart exclaimed, sitting up and shaking dead leaves from his pelt. “Dovepaw, you’re wrigglier than a pile of worms!”

“Sorry,” Dovepaw muttered.

Tigerheart pushed his nose briefly into her fur to show that he hadn’t meant to be unkind, before squeezing through the cleft and out into the open. Dovepaw and the other cats followed him out, and they finished off the rest of the fresh-kill pile. Dovepaw noticed that Rippletail and Petalfur didn’t look so hollow and frail anymore.

They must be really starving in RiverClan if they’re fattening up on what we’ve managed to catch out here!

Above the trees, the sky was milky-pale. A cold wind drove gray clouds across the sky, ruffling the cats’ fur the wrong way.

“It’s moons since it’s been as cold as this,” Petalfur meowed, shivering. “Maybe the weather is changing at last.”

“We can deal with it,” Toadfoot grunted.

When the cats had finished eating, Lionblaze took the lead, waving his tail for the others to follow him. “It’s not far now,” he encouraged them. “We’re really close to the brown animals.”

“How do you know?” Toadfoot demanded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“The dream from StarClan said that they were just beyond the Twolegplace,” Lionblaze explained, with a discreet nod to Dovepaw.

Even though she was worried about what other cats would say if they knew about her abilities, Dovepaw found she was annoyed by her mentor’s secrecy. He’s willing enough to use my power, so why is he treating it like it’s some sort of embarrassment for ThunderClan?

“Don’t forget to watch out for falling trees,” she warned them. “And when we get to the place, the water will be really deep, so be careful not to fall in.”

“All this was in your dream?” Toadfoot asked, sounding as if he didn’t believe her.

“That’s right.” Lionblaze paused to give his chest fur a couple of licks, as if he was thinking fast. “She saw the brown animals pushing trees over, and—and StarClan warned her about the water, isn’t that right, Dovepaw?”

Reluctantly Dovepaw nodded.

“That was some dream!” Rippletail exclaimed. “Firestar never said anything about that at the Gathering.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t need to,” Lionblaze mewed uncomfortably, with a glare at Dovepaw.

Dovepaw met his glare innocently. You got yourself into this mess, so get yourself out of it!

As the patrol made its way along the streambed, up the gently sloping valley, the rush of the rising wind in the trees made it hard for Dovepaw to hear what was up ahead. She strained to make out the sounds of the brown animals, and she jumped when she heard Tigerheart’s voice close beside her.

“Isn’t this cool?” he mewed. “We’re going to find these animals, and then—pow! Give us back our water! They won’t refuse. If they do—well…” He crouched down, then sprang into the air, swiping his forepaws in a strong clawing move.

Dovepaw didn’t think it would be as easy as that, and she wished that the chatty young warrior would just shut up. She stifled a sigh as Sedgewhisker came bounding up on her other side.

“Boasting—just like ShadowClan!” she meowed. “Watch this.” Turning to face Tigerheart so the young warrior nearly tripped over her, she launched herself into the air with a terrifying shriek, twisting as she leaped and landing just behind him.

“Ha—missed!” Tigerheart exclaimed.

“I wasn’t trying to grab you,” Sedgewhisker retorted. “You’d know about it if I was.”

“Oh, would I? Try it, then, and see!”

Dovepaw dodged aside as Tigerheart launched himself at the WindClan she-cat and cuffed her around the head, with his claws sheathed. Sedgewhisker let herself fall on one side, hooking Tigerheart’s paws out from under him so that he lost his balance. The two young cats rolled over and over in the narrow streambed; Petalfur had to scramble up the bank so she wouldn’t be squashed.

“Stop that right now!” Lionblaze growled, wading into the middle of the fight. “Mouse-brains! Do you want to get hurt before we even arrive?”

The two young cats broke apart and sat up; their fur was sticking out all over the place and coated with dust.

“I’d have won with the next move,” Tigerheart muttered.

“In your dreams!” Sedgewhisker gave him a parting flick over the ear with her tail before drawing back.

Dovepaw spotted Lionblaze giving Sedgewhisker a worried look; she seemed to be moving awkwardly, as if she’d wrenched her shoulder again. Then his gaze swiveled back to Tigerheart; the look he gave the younger warrior was unreadable.

Now what’s on his mind? Dovepaw wondered.

At the top of the valley, the land opened out into flatter, sparser woodland. The wind had dropped, and Dovepaw could hear the scraping and gnawing of the brown animals even more clearly than before. Her sense of urgency seemed to spread to the others, and Toadfoot, who was in the lead, picked up the pace until the cats were almost running along the stream bottom.

Lionblaze jumped onto the bank of the stream to look ahead and halted, his tail flicking up in surprise. “Look at that!”

“What?” Whitetail called up to him.

Lionblaze didn’t reply; he just signaled with his tail for the rest of the patrol to join him on the bank.

As she scrambled up beside him and looked, Dovepaw felt her heart start to pound. She had known from the beginning of their journey what they would find, and yet it was all so much clearer and more frightening now that she was faced with it.

Ahead of them, the stream led through a stretch of patchy woodland. Several of the trees had been lopped off neatly about two tail-lengths from the ground, the top of the stump rising to a sharp, splintered point. It looked as if an enormous animal had crashed along the streambed, flattening the trees on either side.

But that wouldn’t look so…so deliberate.

Stretching across the stream, clearly visible above the fallen trees, was an enormous barrier of logs. It rose in a curve like a hill, almost as big as a Twoleg nest.

Dovepaw shrank down, closing her eyes and pressing herself to the ground. The noise that surged through her was deafening: grunts and scratches, gnawing and scraping, the thump of heavy paws on wood. It took all the strength she had to control the sounds until she could cope with them and still stay aware of what was going on around her.

“So that’s what’s blocking the stream,” Rippletail whispered.

A moment of shocked quiet followed his words; it was broken by Petalfur. “We’ll have to push the logs away.”

“No, better drag them out of the stream,” Toadfoot argued. “Otherwise who knows where they’ll end up?”

“Whatever, as long as we let the water out,” meowed Lionblaze.

“And we’ll need to keep well back when the logs give way,” Whitetail pointed out.

“Wait.” Dovepaw’s voice was a hoarse croak as she struggled to her paws again. “The brown animals are still here. They built that barrier deliberately to trap the water.”

Another shocked silence greeted her words. Then Toadfoot shrugged. “We’ll just have to chase them away, then.”

Dovepaw was sure it wouldn’t be as easy as that, but she couldn’t think of anything helpful to say.

“Don’t be scared,” Tigerheart whispered, padding up to stand beside her, with his pelt brushing hers. “I’ll look after you.”

Dovepaw felt too shaken to protest. She followed Lionblaze as he beckoned the rest of the patrol back into the cover of the streambed.

“I suggest that we wait until after dark before we attack,” he meowed. “First we need to scout around on both sides of the logs, because right now the brown animals have the advantage of knowing the territory much better than we do.”

“That’s a good idea,” Whitetail commented.

“And we have to remember that each Clan should fight to its strengths,” Lionblaze added. “We—”

“I’m confident of my strength, Lionblaze,” Toadfoot interrupted. “You just worry about yours.”

Lionblaze held the ShadowClan warrior’s gaze for a couple of heartbeats, but he didn’t rise to the veiled challenge. Dovepaw was unnerved by the tension between the two cats, as well as the anxiety she could sense from the rest of the patrol. They couldn’t argue now! More than ever, they needed to work together to free the water.

Whitetail took the lead as the cats crept out of the streambed and up a slope through the trees, circling around the fallen logs. She paused at the first of the lopped-off trees and gave it a curious sniff. “Big teeth,” she murmured to Lionblaze, angling her ears toward the spiky top of the stump, where the jaw marks of the brown animals were clearly visible.

Lionblaze replied with a cautious nod, while Dovepaw’s belly churned at the thought of those teeth meeting in her pelt. The scent of the brown animals was everywhere; Dovepaw had been aware of it before now, but the reek here was much stronger, a mixture of musk and fish.

“Hey, they smell a bit like RiverClan!” Tigerheart whispered with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t let Rippletail or Petalfur hear you say that,” Dovepaw warned him, in no mood for jokes.

Following Whitetail up the slope, she gradually became aware of something else up ahead. Twolegs! She nearly called out the word, but she realized that she would be in trouble again, trying to explain how she knew. There are green pelt-dens, too, like the ones on the ShadowClan border.

Putting on a spurt, she caught up to Whitetail and hissed, “I think I can scent Twolegs.”

“Really?” The white she-cat halted and opened her jaws to taste the air. “Yes, I think you might be right.” Turning to the rest of the patrol, she added, “Twolegs up ahead. Be careful.”

The cats padded on more slowly, using the logs and stumps for cover. At the top, Whitetail signaled with her tail for the others to crouch down, and they crawled the last few tail-lengths on their bellies. Gazing out from the shelter of a clump of grass, Dovepaw made out several pelt-dens in the clearing ahead. A full-grown Twoleg was sitting outside the entrance to one of them, while two others were examining something on the ground a few fox-lengths away. There didn’t seem to be any of the young Twolegs playing about, like the ones in the other clearing.

Just as well, Dovepaw thought with a sigh of relief.

“What do you think the Twolegs are doing here?” Rippletail asked, getting up to pad a little farther forward. “Do you think they have anything to do with the brown animals?”

“Maybe they’ve come to watch them,” Petalfur guessed.

Around the edges of the open space were hard, black Twoleg things, with long black tendrils trailing along the ground. More of the Twolegs were gathered around them, muttering and occasionally touching the black things, which made sharp clicking sounds. Dovepaw bent down to lick one of the tendrils that was snaking past her, and jumped back at the bitter taste, which was similar to the stench on the Thunderpath.

“Hey, look!” Tigerheart padded up to her. “Some of those Twolegs have fur on their face! They look weird.”

“Twolegs are weird,” Toadfoot pointed out sourly from just behind him. “We don’t have to go on about it.”

“I wonder what they have in that den,” Sedgewhisker murmured, peering around the trunk of a tree. “It smells so good!”

Dovepaw gave a long sniff, her nose twitching as she picked up the scent from the farthest pelt-den. It smelled like some sort of fresh-kill, though it was mixed up with Twoleg scents as well. Her belly rumbled. She was hungry enough to eat anything.

“I’m going to check it out,” Sedgewhisker announced, bounding into the clearing toward the pelt-den.

“Hey, wait!” Whitetail called, but her Clanmate didn’t reappear.

“I’ll get her,” Petalfur meowed, heading off in the WindClan cat’s paw steps.

“Now there are two of them in danger.” Whitetail lashed her tail angrily.

Dovepaw watched, holding her breath. Sedgewhisker was heading straight for the pelt-den; Petalfur followed, but she was focused so closely on the WindClan warrior that she didn’t spot the Twoleg moving toward her.

“Oh, no!” Dovepaw whispered. She didn’t want to see what happened next, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

The Twoleg yowled something, bent down, and scooped up Petalfur in its huge paws. Petalfur let out a startled squeal and began wriggling, but the Twoleg held her firmly. The Twoleg was meowing something to her; Dovepaw didn’t think it sounded hostile.

“I’ll claw its ears off!” Toadfoot hissed, bunching his muscles to leap out into the clearing.

“No, wait.” Lionblaze blocked the ShadowClan warrior with his tail. “Look.”

Petalfur had stopped struggling. Instead, she pushed her face up to the Twoleg’s, and batted gently at its ear with one paw. Dovepaw could hear her purring as the Twoleg stroked one paw down her back.

“I don’t believe I’m seeing this,” Tigerheart meowed gleefully. “Wait till I tell them back home.”

The Twoleg put Petalfur down and made patting motions at her with its paws, as if it was telling her to stay where she was. Petalfur sat down, still purring. The Twoleg strode across to the pelt-den, passing Sedgewhisker, who was watching, frozen with horror, near the entrance.

The Twoleg ducked inside and reappeared a moment later with something in its paw; the Twoleg carried the object over to Petalfur and put it down in front of her. Petalfur picked it up and rubbed herself against the Twoleg’s leg, then darted away, back to the edge of the clearing.

“What are you all staring at?” she demanded, dropping the thing the Twoleg had given her.

“Er…you, being so friendly with that Twoleg,” Toadfoot replied.

“So?” Petalfur challenged him. “It got us out of trouble, didn’t it? Oh, yuck!” she added, scraping herself against the nearest tree. “I’m going to stink of Twoleg for a moon!”

“I’m so sorry!” The undergrowth rustled as Sedgewhisker bounded up to them. “I didn’t think they’d be bothered about us.”

“No harm done,” Lionblaze murmured, while Petalfur was still trying to get the Twoleg scent off. “But let’s be a bit more careful from now on.”

Dovepaw curiously sniffed the Twoleg thing. It smelled like fresh-kill, mixed with Twoleg scents and herb scents, and it was shaped like a fat twig. “I’ve never seen an animal like that before,” she meowed.

“It must be Twoleg prey,” Tigerheart suggested. “Hey, Petalfur, can I have some?”

“You all can,” Petalfur replied. “I don’t know what it is, but it smells tasty.”

Dovepaw crouched down to eat her share. Petalfur was right; it was tasty and felt warm in her belly after the scant pickings that morning.

“Too bad there’s no more,” Tigerheart announced, swiping his tongue over his jaws and looking out into the clearing with a speculative gleam in his eyes.

“If you go out there, Tigerheart,” Toadfoot growled, “I will personally shred your ears and feed them to the brown animals.”

“I never said—”

“You didn’t have to,” Whitetail interrupted, sounding concerned. “The Twolegs already know we’re here, and that’s bad enough without looking for trouble.”

“I wouldn’t worry.” An unfamiliar voice spoke behind them. “The Twolegs are far more interested in the beavers.”

Every cat spun around. Dovepaw found herself staring at a long-legged tom with shaggy brown fur. He looked them over with sharp yellow eyes, his gaze flicking from one cat to the next.

“So who are you?” he asked eventually.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Toadfoot replied, his neck fur beginning to bristle. “And what do you know about these Twolegs?”

The cat seemed unimpressed with Toadfoot’s show of hostility. “My name’s Woody,” he replied. “I’ve been getting food from the Twolegs for the last few moons.”

With a warning glance at Toadfoot, Lionblaze stepped forward and dipped his head. “We haven’t come to steal food from you or the Twolegs,” he meowed. “We’re here because of the blocked stream.”

Woody’s ears flicked up in surprise. “You mean the beavers?”

“Beavers?” Whitetail echoed. “Are those the brown animals? Is that what they’re called?”

The loner nodded. “Big, mean animals with sharp teeth,” he mewed, confirming the impression Dovepaw had received through her senses. “I came across some of them once before, when I was traveling.”

“Have you ever fought one?” Toadfoot demanded.

The brown tom stared at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. “No way! Why would I need to? What do I want with a bunch of fallen trees?”

“We need the trapped water to fill the lake,” Rippletail explained.

Woody looked completely baffled. “Lake? What lake?”

“The lake where we live,” Lionblaze explained. “A couple of days’ journey downstream.”

“And you came all this way to find it?” Woody’s ears twitched. “Why not just go to a different lake?”

Dovepaw examined the cat curiously. He didn’t smell like a kittypet, and he didn’t have the soft, groomed look that the cats in the Twolegplace had. Was he a loner? He seemed quite confident to be in these woods, even though he was badly outnumbered by the patrol. He seemed to know a lot about the brown animals, too. Maybe he’ll help us free the water.

“You don’t understand,” Lionblaze replied to Woody, waving his tail to draw all the cats deeper into the undergrowth, well out of sight of the Twolegs. “There are a lot of us by the lake—far too many to give up our homes and find somewhere else to live.”

“And StarClan told us to come here and find what’s blocking the stream!” Tigerheart put in.

Mouse-brain! Dovepaw thought. Woody won’t understand about StarClan. She was surprised to see that the brown tom just nodded briefly, as if he understood very well. Maybe he’s heard of Clan cats before?

“We’ve got to chase these…these beavers away,” Whitetail meowed determinedly. “Then we can get rid of the blockage and we’ll have our water again.”

Woody shook his head. “Bees in your brain,” he muttered.

“Then you won’t help us?” Lionblaze asked.

“I didn’t say that. I’ll take you down to the river and show you the dam—that’s what they built to block the stream and make a pool deep enough for their den. You might change your mind when you’ve had a good look at it up close.”

“Thanks,” Rippletail purred; he was working his claws in the leaf-mold, as if he couldn’t wait to get close to the sound and scent of water again.

“There’ll be Twolegs around,” Woody warned them, turning to lead the way down the hill. “But you don’t need to worry about them. They’re only interested in watching the beavers. In fact, the Twolegs brought them here.”

“What?” Toadfoot halted, his jaws gaping in astonishment. “Twolegs brought them? In StarClan’s name, why?”

Woody shrugged. “How do I know? Maybe they wanted some trees chopped down.”

The brown tom led them around more of the black Twoleg things with the trailing tendrils, down into the valley, and across the dry streambed just below the wall of logs. This, then, was the beavers’ dam; the reason the water had stopped flowing into the lake. Dovepaw looked up at the looming pile of tree trunks as she padded past. It’s so big! Can we really shift something that size?

On the other side, Woody led them in a circle through the woodland until they approached the stream again. “There are no Twolegs on this side,” he explained. “But watch out for the beavers. You won’t be welcome here, you know.”

He stopped halfway down the slope, in a patch of fallen trees, and the cats lined up beside him to stare across the trapped stream above the dam. It had overflowed the riverbank on this side and spread out into a wide, flat pool, reflecting the gray sky. Here and there circles appeared, spiraling outward as if a fish had risen to take a fly.

Toward the upstream edge of the pool was a mound of mud, twigs, and bark, jutting out from the bank but not blocking the stream like the dam. Dovepaw detected strong beaver scent coming from it.

“What’s that?” Whitetail asked Woody, flicking her tail toward it.

“It’s where the beavers live,” the brown loner explained. “It’s called their lodge, and they—”

“Oh, look!” Petalfur interrupted, her voice rising to the squeak of an excited kit. “So much water…it’s wonderful!”

Before any cat could stop her she bounded down to the water’s edge, with Rippletail hard on her paws, and she plunged in, splashing her paws rapturously and ducking her head under the water.

“They’re like furry fish,” Tigerheart grumbled, padding up to stand beside Dovepaw and Sedgewhisker. “Say what you like, it’s not right for cats.”

“They look as if they’re having fun.” Dovepaw felt a little wistful.

She was so busy watching the two RiverClan cats play in the water that she stopped remaining alert to her surroundings. Suddenly she sensed movement on top of the dam. Spinning around, she saw that two heavy brown shapes had appeared on the logs. Their bodies were sleek and rounded like a bird’s egg, with tiny black eyes and ears like furled leaves. Their tails spread out behind them, broad and flat like a solid wing. They were much bigger than a cat, and as broad and sturdy-looking as the logs that they stood on.

“Beavers!” she yowled. “Look—up there!”

“Oh, great StarClan!” Tigerheart muttered. His neck fur fluffed up and his tail bristled to twice its size. “They’re weird!”

Still happily swimming in the pool, the RiverClan cats didn’t notice the two animals, even when they clambered down the dam and slipped into the water, slapping the surface hard with their tails and sending up a shower of drops.

“Rippletail! Petalfur!” Dovepaw screeched, hurling herself down to the edge of the pool. “Beavers! Get out now!”

The beavers glided across the pool, their huge bodies making scarcely any ripples. Dovepaw could hear their paws churning through the water and felt their massive tails steering them toward the cats.

Rippletail and Petalfur spotted them and began splashing madly toward the edge of the pool. The beavers swerved effortlessly in pursuit, lifting their heads to avoid the waves behind the cats. Dovepaw dug her claws into the ground as she watched the gap between them grow smaller and smaller.

Oh, StarClan, help them!

The two RiverClan cats scrambled out of the water just ahead of the beavers’ noses. Their fur was dripping and plastered to their sides, and their eyes were wild with fear.

“Run!” Lionblaze yowled.

Every cat bolted for the trees at the top of the slope. Glancing back, Dovepaw saw the beavers haul themselves out of the water, raising their muzzles and baring long yellow teeth. On land they were much clumsier than they were in the water; Dovepaw realized the cats could easily outstrip them if they gave chase.

But the beavers stayed where they were on the bank of the pool, gazing after the cats and not making any move to follow them. The patrol gathered close together under the trees, Petalfur and Rippletail shivering and shaking water from their pelts.

“That was close,” Rippletail muttered. “Thanks for warning us.”

“Oh, StarClan,” Toadfoot breathed. “This isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”

Dovepaw caught Lionblaze’s gaze on her. He didn’t speak, but she could guess what he was thinking.

Why didn’t you tell us it was going to be this hard?

CHAPTER 19

Lionblaze led the patrol away from the water and into the cover of denser trees. He could see his own shock reflected in the wide, scared eyes of his companions. The two RiverClan cats were still trembling, huddling close together, their gaze flickering down the side of the valley as if they expected beavers to burst out of the undergrowth at any moment.

Woody followed them and sat down with his tail wrapped around his paws. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he observed with a yawn.

Lionblaze drew a deep breath, knowing that if some cat didn’t come up with a plan then they would all give up and go home. “Woody, do the beavers sleep at night?”

The loner shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s when I’m asleep, too. The Twolegs would know.”

“Yes, but we can’t ask them,” Toadfoot snapped, curling his lips back from his teeth.

“At least the Twolegs won’t be around when it’s dark,” Lionblaze meowed. “And the beavers might be asleep. I think that would be the best time to attack.”

The air tingled with tension as the cats looked at one another. Petalfur and Rippletail stared through the trees in the direction of the pool.

“That’s ours,” Rippletail murmured.

Lionblaze knew that they couldn’t leave now. After they had come all this way, they had to do something to get the water back, for the sake of their Clans.

“Look,” he began, scraping up a few twigs into a heap. “This is the dam. Here’s the pool, and this”—he drew a long scrape in the earth—“is the streambed on the other side.”

“We should divide ourselves up,” Toadfoot mewed, touching the ground with one paw on each side of the heap of twigs. “Attack from two directions at once.”

Lionblaze nodded. “Good idea. Once we’re on top of the dam, we start to take it apart until the water can get through. Woody, do you know if the dam is hollow? Would the beavers be hiding inside it?”

Woody shook his head. “No idea. And don’t think that I’m going to take part in this attack,” he added. “This is your battle, not mine.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to,” Lionblaze responded, though he felt a twinge of regret. Woody would be a valuable ally to have on their side.

“Okay, let’s hunt now,” Toadfoot suggested. “Then we’ll get some rest until nightfall.”

“But don’t go off alone,” Lionblaze warned. “And if you see a beaver, yowl to warn the rest of us.”

He padded into the woods with Dovepaw at his side, and he halted after a few tail-lengths to taste the air. “I can’t scent anything except beavers,” he complained.

“Same here,” Dovepaw meowed. “Look at this.” She stopped in front of a large pile of mud mixed with twigs and grass. Large paw prints were set into the dried mud. “I wonder what it’s for?”

Lionblaze padded up and gave it a cautious sniff, recoiling a pace or two at the strong reek of musky, fishy beaver scent. “Maybe it’s a scent marker,” he guessed. “If we get farther away from it, we might be able to pick up some prey.”

To his relief, the beaver scent faded as they stalked farther into the woods and left the last of the felled trees behind. Lionblaze began to recognize the familiar scents of mouse and squirrel. Hearing a scuffling sound from underneath a bush, he pinpointed a mouse and glided up to it, careful to set his paws down lightly. The mouse tried to dart off at the last moment, but Lionblaze trapped it under his paw and killed it with a bite to the back of the neck.

“I’ve got one, too!” Dovepaw announced, trotting up with a mouse in her jaws.

Lionblaze scraped earth over the fresh-kill. “The hunting is much better here,” he commented, pleased that they had found prey so quickly. “I suppose it’s because the water is so near.”

It didn’t take much longer for him to catch a squirrel and Dovepaw to track down a couple more mice.

“I never knew hunting could be this easy,” she mumbled around her mouthful of fresh-kill as they carried the prey back to the stream.

Lionblaze realized that Dovepaw had still been a kit when the drought began. She’d never known what it was like to hunt when there was plenty of prey. “It’ll be like this in the forest once we bring the water back,” he promised.

Back in the undergrowth above the pool, they found that the other cats had all hunted well, and for once the patrol was full-fed when they settled down to sleep until nightfall.

“I’ll keep watch,” Dovepaw offered. Her eyes were wide and her whiskers quivered.

“No, you need to rest,” Lionblaze told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Dovepaw protested in a whisper, glancing at the rest of the patrol to make sure they couldn’t overhear. “I can still hear the beavers, gnawing and scraping….”

“Then block your senses like you did before,” Lionblaze told her. “We know the beavers are here now, so we don’t need you to be on the alert all the time.” When she still looked unconvinced, he bent his head and gave her ear an approving lick. “You’ve done well, Dovepaw. You were right! The stream has been blocked by brown animals—and we can do something about that. When we defeat the beavers and release the water, the Clans will owe everything to you.”

Dovepaw sighed. “I hope that’s going to happen.” Without arguing anymore she curled up; after a few moments Lionblaze realized she was asleep.

Wind ruffled the surface of the pool, sending clouds scudding across the waning moon. The woods were dappled with light and shadow as the patrol crept down to the water’s edge.

Lionblaze halted at the edge of the pool; the dam looked even bigger and more threatening in the darkness, blotting out the stars behind the topmost logs. His belly churned. StarClan, are you with us now? Do you even walk these skies? He scanned the bank carefully in both directions and tasted the air, but he could see nothing moving, and the beaver scent clinging to everything was no help in telling him whether the beavers themselves were anywhere around. With any luck, they’re all asleep in that mudpile upstream.

“Right,” he whispered as the other cats gathered around him. “Dovepaw and I will cross the stream with Whitetail and Sedgewhisker. The rest of you stay on this side.”

Toadfoot gave him a curt nod.

“We climb up onto the dam and pull the logs down,” Lionblaze went on. “If the beavers try to stop us, we fight.”

“Yes!” Tigerheart hissed, his eyes gleaming pale in the moonlight.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lionblaze mewed. He padded down to the bottom of the dry streambed and up the other side, with half of the patrol following closely. Now that the waiting was over, his worries had faded, replaced by a hard resolution. This is the night when we get our water back!

Once across the stream, Whitetail let out a yowl. It was answered by another yowl from Toadfoot on the far bank.

“Now!” Lionblaze growled.

He bounded down the slope and sprang onto the dam. A heartbeat later his paws skidded from under him and he slithered halfway down the pile of logs, barely saving himself from falling into the pool. Beside him, Dovepaw had slipped down to a lower branch; Lionblaze leaned over, grabbed her scruff, and hauled her up again.

“Be careful!” he gasped as he recovered his balance. “These logs are slippery.”

He realized something that he hadn’t noticed before: The beavers had gnawed all the bark off the tree trunks, leaving the shiny pale wood exposed. Whitetail was edging along one long trunk, setting her paws one in front of the other in a straight line and digging her claws in, while Sedgewhisker tried to jump, dislodged one log, and managed to scramble out of the way before it swept her into the pool.

Yowls and furious growling from the other side told Lionblaze that the rest of the cats were having the same trouble. How can we destroy the dam if we can’t even move around on it?

He and Dovepaw were struggling to drag one log out of the pile when Lionblaze heard a splashing sound, followed by the heavy padding of paws. Every hair on his pelt lifted with horror as two beavers lurched up in front of him, their blackberry eyes and curved teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“Oh, no…” Dovepaw muttered.

Lionblaze let out a yowl and hurled himself at the nearest beaver, slashing at its side as he sprang past it. To his dismay, his claws glanced harmlessly off its pelt, which felt thick and greasy, like mud. As he spun around, he saw both beavers heading for Dovepaw; the apprentice faced them bravely, leaping into the air as they rushed at her. She landed on the shoulders of the leader and cuffed him over the head and ears, but the beaver ignored her. Tossing its head, it shook her off as if she were a fly, sending her crashing into the logs.

The beavers slithered up to the top of the dam where Whitetail and Sedgewhisker were waiting, outlined against the sky. The she-cats’ backs were arched and their fur was bristling as they let out caterwauls of defiance.

Lionblaze checked that Dovepaw was unhurt and left her scrambling to her paws while he flung himself back into the battle. When he reached the top of the dam, he saw one beaver swing on its forepaws and deal a massive blow to Sedgewhisker with its tail. The WindClan warrior let out a shocked yowl as she fell backward. In her fall she brushed against Whitetail, who sank her claws into the nearest log so she didn’t follow her Clanmate.

Peering down into the darkness, Lionblaze spotted Sedgewhisker lying on the dry streambed below. She was moving, so he guessed she was just stunned; there was no time to go check. As he whirled to face the beavers again, Whitetail clambered up and stood at his side.

“Fox dung, I’ve torn a claw,” she muttered.

One beaver had disappeared, but the other was coming at them; it reared up on its hind legs and let out a furious hiss. As it lunged forward, Lionblaze slipped to one side while Whitetail sprang at it from the other. The beaver’s teeth slammed together a whisker’s width from Lionblaze’s ear; Whitetail managed to aim a slashing blow at its head before it could turn to face her.

“Well done!” Lionblaze gasped.

Briefly he spotted Dovepaw fleeing from the second beaver, leaping and scrambling across the slippery logs while the heavy animal lumbered after her. Lionblaze wanted to spring down to help her, but he was nearly knocked over by the slap of a flat tail as the beaver he was fighting turned on Whitetail.

“Lionblaze, help!” Whitetail screeched.

She lay sprawled on the logs; the beaver’s vicious teeth were snapping at her throat. Lionblaze hurled himself at the creature’s side; the impact felt as if he had tried to shift a tree, but he distracted the beaver for a heartbeat, enough for Whitetail to wriggle free, aiming a blow at their adversary’s ear on the way.

This is hopeless! Lionblaze thought. They’re too strong for us! And where are the others?

Scrambling out of range of the beaver, he reached the top of the dam and gazed across to the far side. His heart lurched when he saw the other four cats fighting for their lives against another pair of beavers at the bottom of the dam near the pool. As he watched, he saw Petalfur knocked off her paws and pitched backward into the water. She resurfaced, swimming strongly, but she was having trouble climbing out again onto the smooth logs.

Toadfoot and Tigerheart were fighting like a whole patrol, but these beavers were even bigger and stronger than the ones on the top of the dam. We can’t win, Lionblaze realized, bitter failure sweeping over him. Glancing back, he spotted Whitetail with Dovepaw crouched just behind her, looking terrified but determined. Both the beavers were advancing on them, letting out their threatening hisses.

“Get back!” Lionblaze yowled. “Get back to the bank—climb a tree! I’m going to help the others!”

“No!” Dovepaw screeched back. “We’re not leaving you!”

“I’ll be okay!” Lionblaze fixed his eyes on his apprentice, hoping she would remember that he couldn’t be killed in battle. “Now go!”

To his relief, Whitetail spun around and gave Dovepaw a push along the dam; both she-cats fled for the bank, scrambling over the logs, with Whitetail limping on three legs. There was still no sign of Sedgewhisker; Lionblaze assumed she was still lying stunned on the streambed.

Let’s hope she stays there.

Lionblaze turned back to head for the opposite side of the dam and found himself face-to-face with the beavers; their eyes gleamed as they crept up on him.

“You think you’re getting an easy victory?” Lionblaze taunted them, fluffing up his fur. “Think again!”

He hurled himself at the beavers, aiming for the narrow gap between them. As he slid through, helped on his way by their slimy pelts, he ducked his head to avoid their stabbing teeth and dodged from one side to another as they tried to claw him. He jumped over their tails as they swept around, trying to knock him off his feet, and then he was through. His sides felt battered, and as he landed he almost lost his balance and fell off the dam, but he managed to stay on his paws.

“See?” he yowled triumphantly. “Not a scratch on me!”

The words were scarcely out when he felt a heavy blow from behind, knocking his legs from under him. Another beaver had arrived, and it stood over him, its tiny front paws quivering as it lunged down to bite his neck.

Lionblaze rolled away, paws flailing as he slid down the side of the dam, ending up at the bottom, where Toadfoot and the others were still fighting.

“Retreat!” Lionblaze gasped. “It’s over!”

“Not while I’m on my paws!” Toadfoot snarled, aiming a blow at a beaver that was trying to thrust him off the dam.

“Or me!” Tigerheart asserted through gritted teeth.

Lionblaze could see that both ShadowClan warriors were injured: Toadfoot had blood trickling from above his eye, while deep claw marks were scored across Tigerheart’s pelt.

There was no time to argue. Lionblaze slid down to Petalfur, who was still trying to balance on the lowest logs, grabbed her by the scruff, and threw her onto the bank. He watched for a couple of heartbeats, until he saw her scrambling up the slope to safety. Then he glanced around for Rippletail. His heart slammed into his throat as he spotted the RiverClan warrior, who was cornered by the biggest beaver of all at the point where the dam met the bank. Rippletail was facing the creature defiantly, with teeth bared and claws extended, but Lionblaze could see that he didn’t have a chance.

Just as he hurled himself at the beaver, the creature lunged forward. It fastened its long, cruel teeth in Rippletail’s shoulder and tore a ragged wound; the RiverClan warrior let out a shriek of agony. Lionblaze flung himself at the beaver’s head, digging his claws into its ears. The beaver let out a bellow of pain and backed off, its tail flailing at Lionblaze. Rippletail was able to slip past them, slither over the log where they were struggling, and plunge into the water.

“Help him get out!” Lionblaze screeched, clinging desperately to the beaver’s head while it tried to slash his flank with its hind claws. He spotted Petalfur racing back down the slope.

“Rippletail! Rippletail!” she yowled.

Just then the beaver reared up and flicked Lionblaze off; he lay helplessly on the logs, struggling to catch his breath while the beaver bore down on him with glittering eyes and wicked teeth.

Then Toadfoot thrust himself between Lionblaze and the beaver; distracted, the creature turned to pursue the ShadowClan warrior. Toadfoot stood just out of range, snarling and batting at the beaver with his forepaws, until Lionblaze managed to scramble to his paws and flee.

Lionblaze and Toadfoot jumped off the dam and ran to the edge of the water, with Tigerheart hard on their paws.

Petalfur was crouched on the edge of the shore. “I’m going to help Rippletail,” she yowled, launching herself into the water and swimming out to where her Clanmate was flailing. Lionblaze couldn’t help remembering how happily the two RiverClan cats had played in the water the day before.

All five beavers were clustered together on top of the dam, watching the cats below. Lionblaze and Toadfoot turned to face them, ready to fight if they attacked again before Petalfur could rescue her Clanmate.

The RiverClan she-cat reached Rippletail, grabbed him by the scruff, and began towing him back to the bank. Meanwhile, Whitetail limped up to them from the streambed on the other side of the dam; her paw was bleeding heavily from where she had wrenched out her claw. Dovepaw and Sedgewhisker padded just behind her, with Sedgewhisker leaning on Dovepaw’s shoulder; she still looked half-stunned from her fall off the top of the dam.

As Petalfur swam into the shallows with Rippletail, Lionblaze and Toadfoot waded out into the pool and helped her drag him onto the bank. The RiverClan tom was barely conscious; his paws wouldn’t hold him up and his head drooped. Lionblaze and Toadfoot gripped his shoulders, while Dovepaw and Petalfur held up his hindquarters, and together they maneuvered him up the slope, back to the fern thicket where they had rested earlier. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker struggled up after them.

When they reached their makeshift shelter, Dovepaw tore up some bracken to make a nest, and the cats laid Rippletail down. The shoulder where the beaver had bitten him was bleeding heavily, the blood running down into his wet fur. Lionblaze felt his belly clench as he looked at the long, deep wound.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” Dovepaw mewed. “Does any cat know the proper herbs?”

Lionblaze tried to think. Surely Jayfeather must have said something, sometime, that would be useful now? But between fear and exhaustion, he couldn’t think.

“Rippletail was the cat who knew most about that.” Petalfur’s eyes were wide and frightened. “Mothwing gave him some training before we left.”

Lionblaze’s claws raked the ground in frustration. “Rippletail?” he hissed. “Rippletail, can you hear me?”

But the RiverClan warrior didn’t respond. His eyes were closed now, and his breathing was shallow.

“Cobwebs stop bleeding,” Whitetail meowed.

Dovepaw sprang to her paws. “I’ll go find some.” She plunged into the undergrowth.

Petalfur bent over her Clanmate, gently licking his wet fur as a mother would have cared for her kit. The rest of the cats watched in silence. Oh, StarClan! Lionblaze prayed. Don’t let him come to you yet.

He looked up as a clump of bracken waved wildly, expecting to see Dovepaw returning, but instead it was Woody who stepped into the open, a vole dangling from his jaws. He gaped, dropping his prey, as his gaze fell on Rippletail, and his eyes stretched wide with horror.

“What happened?” he croaked.

“The beavers happened,” Toadfoot replied tersely.

Woody padded up and gave Rippletail’s wound a cautious sniff. “I can’t believe you cats would put yourselves in such danger,” he meowed.

“It’s what we do.” Lionblaze had to restrain himself from snarling at the loner. “The warrior code says that you must fight for your Clan to the death.”

“In that case, you’re fools,” Woody snorted.

Tigerheart let out a snarl of fury and lunged at the loner. “Can’t you see how brave this cat was?”

Woody whipped around to face him, sliding out his claws, but before Tigerheart could reach him Whitetail darted between them and thrust the young warrior back. “This won’t help Rippletail,” she pointed out.

As Tigerheart sat down, breathing hard and glaring at Woody, the bracken parted again and Dovepaw reappeared, hobbling along on three legs while she held up a pawful of cobweb.

“Thanks, Dovepaw.” Petalfur took the cobweb and packed it into Rippletail’s wound, but his blood quickly soaked it. His breathing had grown shallower still.

“His fur is burning,” Petalfur whispered.

Lionblaze realized that the moon had set and the sky was growing pale with the approach of dawn. All the cats, even Woody, sat in silence around Rippletail, listening as his breathing grew fainter and more ragged. At last, as a golden line appeared on the horizon, it stopped.

Lionblaze bowed his head. Rippletail had been a young warrior, with so much to offer his Clan. And in the time that they had traveled together, Lionblaze had begun to think of him as a friend. The beaver had ripped all that away.

“He hunts with StarClan now,” Toadfoot murmured; he reached out with his tail and touched Petalfur’s shoulder.

Petalfur crumpled to the ground with a choking sound of grief. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker pressed close to her, one on each side, and the three she-cats huddled together beside Rippletail’s body. Tigerheart looked on appalled, as if he couldn’t believe that a warrior’s life could end so quickly.

Dovepaw sprang to her paws and padded away, brushing blindly through the grass and ferns. Afraid that in her grief she wouldn’t watch out for danger, Lionblaze followed and caught up to her at the top of the slope, above the huge mound of the dam. The beavers had vanished. Apart from a few scattered logs, there was no sign of the battle that had taken place there such a short time before.

Staring down at the dam, Dovepaw whispered, “We never should have come!”

CHAPTER 20

What in the name of StarClan made her come all this way?

Jayfeather trudged up the rocky path toward the Moonpool, following the scents of Poppyfrost and Breezepelt. His fur prickled as he thought how unlikely it was that the two of them would be together willingly.

What could he possibly want with her?

The sun had gone down, and the wind was rising, bringing with it the damp scent of rain. At last the drought seemed as if it could be coming to an end. That’s one good thing, Jayfeather thought.

One last hard scramble brought him to the ring of thornbushes that surrounded the Moonpool. Pushing his way through, he padded down the spiral path, feeling once more the prints of the ancient Clan beneath his paws. Their whispers surrounded him, but Jayfeather was too intent on finding Poppyfrost to listen to them tonight.

With the endless gush of the waterfall in his ears, he reached the edge of the pool and picked up Poppyfrost’s scent. The she-cat was sitting at the waterside a little farther around. She was alone; there was no sign of Breezepelt. He’s here somewhere. But where?

“Poppyfrost?” Jayfeather whispered.

He heard her gasp of surprise. “Jayfeather! Did you follow me?”

“Yes.” But I won’t tell her another cat might have followed her as well. “Your Clanmates are worried about you,” he went on. “You shouldn’t have come up here alone.”

“My kits are fine,” Poppyfrost responded, her voice dull and listless. “Is Berrynose worried about me?”

Jayfeather hesitated. He hadn’t seen Berrynose before he left; for all he knew the cream-colored warrior was still unaware that his mate had disappeared.

“You don’t need to answer,” Poppyfrost went on bitterly. “Of course he isn’t! He doesn’t care about me. He’s still in love with Honeyfern.”

Jayfeather searched helplessly for the right words to say, but Poppyfrost went on at once, seeming to assume that he agreed with her.

“I wanted to see Honeyfern so much. I miss her more than I can say, and I don’t blame her that Berrynose doesn’t love me.” Poppyfrost let out a shuddering sigh. “I always loved him, even when he was with Honeyfern. But I would never have tried to take him away from her! Then when she died, I thought he might love me after all…but he doesn’t.”

“You don’t know—” Jayfeather began.

“Oh, yes, I do!” Poppyfrost flashed back at him. “You can tell from the way he behaves that he doesn’t care about me at all. Why else would he want me to go into the nursery so early? He doesn’t even want to see me in the warriors’ den!”

Jayfeather was at a loss for how to reply. No cat could make Berrynose love Poppyfrost if he still wanted her dead sister, and trekking up here to the Moonpool wasn’t going to help.

“I’m going to take you home,” he meowed. “Remember I brought you home once before from a forest you visited in your dreams?”

Poppyfrost was silent for a moment; Jayfeather could feel the memories stirring in her mind, flickering like starlight on water.

“Yes, I remember,” she murmured, her voice scarcely audible above the sound of the waterfall. “I was sick, wasn’t I? But I didn’t really leave the stone hollow. So where was that forest?” She caught her breath, and her voice strengthened as she went on. “It was StarClan, wasn’t it? I was dying, and you saved my life!”

“Yes, that’s what happened,” Jayfeather mewed. “And I’ve come to help you again.”

He heard Poppyfrost rise to her paws and pad around the Moonpool until she was standing in front of him, her scent strong in his nose.

“If I went to StarClan once and came back, I can go there again! Please!” Jayfeather could feel her body tremble with longing. “I want to see Honeyfern. I want to tell her that I didn’t mean to take Berrynose from her. Oh, Jayfeather, what if she hates me, too?”

Jayfeather stifled a sigh. “That’s not possible,” he began. “Warriors can’t just stroll in and out of StarClan. I would have to hurt you or make you sick, and medicine cats can’t—”

He broke off at the sound of a soft pad of footsteps from the edge of the hollow. Breezepelt’s voice echoed coldly off the stone. “What’s this? Another dilemma for ThunderClan? You cats should really learn to control your emotions, you know. Now you’ll just have more kits who should never have been born,” he added.

“Breezepelt!” Poppyfrost sounded shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not very friendly.” The WindClan cat’s voice was soft. “The Moonpool isn’t ThunderClan territory, you know.”

“Leave us alone,” Jayfeather snapped, trying to conceal the fear that was trickling like icemelt down his spine. “We don’t need you here.”

“Oh, I think you do.” The soft voice was drawing closer. “I’m willing to help Poppyfrost get to StarClan, even if you’re not.”

Jayfeather gulped, picking up a wave of fear and bewilderment from Poppyfrost, as if the young she-cat couldn’t understand why the WindClan warrior was threatening her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he meowed. “You won’t kill her, not when I’m here.”

“Oh, really?” Breezepelt snarled; he was only about a tail-length away now. “And you, a blind medicine cat, think you can stop me, do you? When her body is found drowned in your precious pool, it’ll be your word against mine. I was never here tonight. My Clanmates can lie as well as yours, Jayfeather.”

Poppyfrost let out a gasp. Jayfeather stepped in front of her, guarding her from Breezepelt. The waves of hatred coming from his half brother were almost enough to knock him off his paws—and he realized that Breezepelt would do anything to punish him for being born.

“Your quarrel is with me, Breezepelt,” he growled. “Let Poppyfrost go.”

Breezepelt gave a snort of contempt. “Sending you to StarClan isn’t enough of a punishment. You need to know what it’s like to have every cat in your Clan stare at you, whisper about you. You need to know that you’re surrounded by lies and hatred and things that should never have happened.”

“You think we don’t know that?” Jayfeather challenged him. “The worst of the lies were told about us. We didn’t even know who our real parents were.”

For a heartbeat he felt the force of Breezepelt’s hatred falter. But the moment did not last.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of this,” Breezepelt hissed. “You’re nothing but a coward.”

StarClan help me! Jayfeather thought, knowing there was only one way forward. Unsheathing his claws, he sprang at Breezepelt. He felt the WindClan cat’s surprise as he was bowled over; Jayfeather landed on top of him and battered at his neck and ears, ripping his claws down his pelt.

Breezepelt let out a yowl of pain and fury. But Jayfeather knew that he couldn’t hope to win a fight against a seasoned warrior. The WindClan cat threw him off and flipped him over onto his back. Holding him down with one paw, Breezepelt landed several hard blows on Jayfeather’s belly. Wriggling in a vain attempt to escape, Jayfeather realized dully his adversary was keeping his claws sheathed.

He’s playing with me. He’ll finish me off when he’s ready.

Poppyfrost’s terrified wail came close to Jayfeather’s ear. “Stop it! You can’t kill a medicine cat!”

“Watch me,” Breezepelt growled.

Poppyfrost aimed a blow at his shoulder, but she was heavy with her kits and clumsy; Jayfeather could tell the blow had no force behind it.

“Get out of here!” he gasped as another blow to his belly winded him. “Think of your kits!”

Poppyfrost backed away, whimpering, but she didn’t try to leave.

In the next heartbeat Breezepelt sprang away from Jayfeather, who scrambled, half-dazed, to his paws. Standing still, he tried to locate the WindClan cat, but between pain and fear he was losing control of his senses.

Then Breezepelt leaped back in front of him, lashing out with his paws, claws still sheathed as he just brushed Jayfeather’s ears and muzzle. “Go on, see if you can hit me!” he taunted.

Jayfeather sprang forward, but before he reached the WindClan cat a heavy weight landed on him from behind and claws raked across his shoulders.

Another cat? Oh, great StarClan, no!

Remembering his battle training, Jayfeather let himself go limp, flopping down on the edge of the pool with the strange tom crushing him down. He lashed out with all four paws, clawing frantically at the other cat’s belly.

Who is it? How many cats want to kill me?

The newcomer’s scent was all around him, but Jayfeather didn’t recognize it. The tom didn’t belong to WindClan, or to any of the other Clans. But he’s not a rogue or a loner. I ought to recognize that scent, but I don’t.

The unknown tom’s weight suddenly vanished; Jayfeather struggled to his paws, only to stagger as a massive paw swiped him toward the pool. Breezepelt blocked him and shoved him back; for a few heartbeats the two cats batted Jayfeather between them like a pair of kits playing with a ball of moss.

Poppyfrost was still hovering close by. “Breezepelt, don’t!” she pleaded. “StarClan will be angry if you kill a medicine cat.”

“Like I care!” Breezepelt snarled.

Yowling in fury, Jayfeather tried to lash out, but his blows were too wild and uncontrolled to do any damage. He felt blood start to trickle from one shoulder as Breezepelt scratched him.

They’re getting tired of this. They’ll finish me off soon.

He was close to keeling over with exhaustion when he felt another cat leap down beside him. His last hope died at the thought of yet another enemy attacking him. Then he heard a startled screech from Breezepelt, and he realized that the latest arrival had sprung at the WindClan cat, driving him back.

“Hi, Jayfeather,” the new cat hissed through clenched teeth. “Having trouble?”

“Honeyfern!” Jayfeather gasped.

The StarClan warrior’s scent wreathed around him as she jumped back to his side. The massive tom bore down on them again; this time Jayfeather slashed with rapid blows at his ears, while Honeyfern dealt the WindClan warrior a hard blow to the belly.

Jayfeather heard a furious growl coming from the unknown cat as he backed off.

“Get away!” Honeyfern snarled. “You’re not wanted here! And as for you, Breezepelt—” She swung around to face the WindClan cat again. “You get out of here, too. Or do you want a couple of shredded ears?”

“You might have won this time,” Breezepelt spat. “But don’t think this is over, Jayfeather, because it’s not.”

Jayfeather heard his paws retreating up the spiral path; his scent faded. Breathing hard, Jayfeather turned to Honeyfern and realized that he could see her. She was sitting at the edge of the pool, with starlight shimmering in her pale tabby fur. Rows and rows of starry cats had appeared behind her, clustering around the Moonpool and up the sides of the hollow. Jayfeather didn’t dare look at them too closely, in case he saw Hollyleaf among them. Or didn’t—which might mean she was somewhere much, much worse.

Instead, he padded up to Honeyfern. “Thankyou,” he panted. “I thought I was going to join you in StarClan for sure.”

Honeyfern twitched her tail. “It isn’t your time yet, Jayfeather,” she replied. “You still have much to do.” Stretching forward, she gave his ear a friendly lick. “Thank you for saving my sister.”

“Can she see you?” Jayfeather asked, with a glance at Poppyfrost, who was crouched a little way up the spiral path.

Honeyfern shook her head sadly. “Please tell her that I miss her just as much as she misses me. And I will love her kits as if they were my own.” Her eyes glowed with love and sympathy as she went on. “Berrynose does love her. He’s just scared of losing her as he lost me. I am watching over both of them.”

Dipping her head once more, she melted back into the crowd of starry warriors. Another cat came forward, her tousled fur like smoke in the starlight.

“Yellowfang,” he sighed.

“I know who was helping Breezepelt,” the former medicine cat told him, without wasting time on any greetings.

“You do? Who was it?”

Yellowfang blinked her amber eyes. “You don’t need to know that yet. But his presence is a sign of great trouble to come.”

Jayfeather’s belly twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Honeyfern fought beside you today,” Yellowfang meowed. “And so will every warrior of StarClan when their turn comes. But the empty hearts of our enemies have filled up with hatred and hunger for revenge, and that gives them strength that cannot be measured.”

Jayfeather stared at her in horror.

“The forces of the Dark Forest are rising.” Yellowfang’s voice vibrated with foreboding. “I am afraid that it will take a power greater than StarClan to defeat them.”

CHAPTER 21

Lionblaze and Toadfoot lowered Rippletail’s body into the hole they had scraped out under an oak tree. Beyond the undergrowth, Dovepaw could just make out the pool behind the dam, glittering in the morning sunlight. She hoped that Rippletail’s spirit was down there now, swimming and fishing just as he had wanted to.

Rage burned like a slow fire in her belly. Rippletail shouldn’t have died on this journey! She wanted revenge on the beavers now, wanted it like a starving cat longed for a bite of fresh-kill. We have to destroy the dam! The water belongs to the Clans!

As she stepped up to the edge of the grave and began to push soil and leaf mulch down onto Rippletail’s body, she paused to listen to the beavers. They were moving around quietly inside the lodge, and she imagined them smug and gleeful because they’d chased off the cats in such an easy victory.

Lionblaze’s voice distracted her from her thoughts. “We can’t fight the beavers again.”

“I told you so,” Woody muttered from where he sat on one of the oak tree’s gnarled roots.

Lionblaze flicked an ear to show the loner he had heard, but he didn’t reply. “We need to find a different way to free the water,” he went on.

Petalfur looked up from covering her Clanmate’s body. Her eyes were still stunned with grief, but her voice was hard and determined. “We could try luring the beavers away.”

“And then what?” Toadfoot asked.

“Then we destroy the dam,” Petalfur replied.

“But it’s huge!” Tigerheart objected. “It would take days. We can’t keep the beavers away for that long.”

“We don’t have to destroy it all.” Petalfur sounded confident. “If we can move enough of the top branches that the water spills over, the force of the stream will wash the rest of the logs away.”

Dovepaw nodded. “I see,” she mewed. She supposed that a RiverClan cat would know what she was talking about when it came to water. She cast her senses as far as the dam, feeling for the way the trunks and branches were woven together, and she realized that Petalfur’s idea might work.

“We must do it quickly,” Whitetail put in, with a glance up at the sky. “The weather is going to break soon, and besides”—her gaze flickered to Petalfur—“we need to get back to our Clans to tell them what’s happened.”

“That’s true,” Lionblaze agreed.

“I know what we can do!” Tigerheart was looking around the clearing. “Let’s practice moving these fallen branches. If we figure how to do that without losing our balance, we’ll be able to dismantle the dam much quicker.”

Toadfoot gave his Clanmate a nod of approval. “Good idea.”

Dovepaw was impressed, too. Tigerheart could be annoying sometimes, but she had to admit he wasn’t stupid.

When they had finished filling in Rippletail’s grave, the Clan cats scattered through the clearing and began trying to lift the branches. To Dovepaw’s surprise, Woody went to help Petalfur. “I shouldn’t have let you attack the beavers,” he muttered as he stood beside her and helped her roll a moss-covered log. “I should have known they were too strong for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Woody,” Whitetail called to him. Petalfur said nothing, just concentrated on rocking the heavy branch onto its side.

Dovepaw followed Lionblaze across the clearing to a lightning-split tree trunk lying on the ground. Shock slashed through her when she saw that he was limping. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Lionblaze nodded. “I don’t get hurt in battles, remember?” he hissed. “But I can’t let the others know that.”

Dovepaw sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to keep everything a secret.”

“It’s for their own good.” Lionblaze turned to face her, pinning her with his compelling amber eyes. “They have to let us help them, and they might not do that if they think we’re different.”

Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder at the other cats, who were spread out over the clearing, struggling with logs. Would they really be afraid of me if they knew what I can do? Probably, she decided sadly. After all, if I hadn’t sensed the beavers, we would never have come, and Rippletail would still be alive.

She and Lionblaze began to roll the log; it was heavy, and the grass growing up around it made it hard to shift.

“Let’s try flipping it over,” Lionblaze suggested. “You go to that end, and I’ll lift it up from here.”

“Okay.” Dovepaw gave the log a doubtful glance. It’s so big! And some of the logs on the dam are even bigger!

She watched as Lionblaze thrust his paws under one end of the log and started to heave it upward. “I’m going to push it up from this end,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You keep it steady, then push from your end and it should go over.”

Dovepaw tried to get a grip on the log, but as soon as it started to move, her paws slipped; the log banged her chin as it dropped to the ground again. “Sorry,” she puffed. “Let’s try again.”

But the second attempt was no better. This time the log rolled over toward Dovepaw, and she barely saved her paws from being crushed as she sprang backward.

Lionblaze lashed his tail in frustration. “I can’t move it on my own,” he snarled, though Dovepaw knew that he was more angry with himself than he was with her. “It’s too heavy.”

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Dovepaw jumped, startled to see that Toadfoot had padded over to them. “We’ll need at least three cats to lure the beavers away,” he went on, flopping down beside the log with a tired sigh. “That leaves just five to dismantle the dam, even if Woody helps. We’ll never do it.”

Dovepaw glanced across the clearing to see that all the others had given up trying to shift the logs and branches. They looked exhausted, especially Petalfur, whose eyes were still dark with grief for her Clanmate.

This is hopeless! What are we going to do?

Lionblaze rose to his paws. “We can’t give up now,” he growled. “We need help.”

“But that’s mouse-brained,” Whitetail protested. “We can’t go all the way back to the lake to fetch more cats. It’s too far. We need water now!”

“There are cats who can help us much closer than that,” Lionblaze reminded them with a flick of his tail.

Toadfoot’s eyes stretched wide with astonishment. “You mean the kittypets?”

Lionblaze nodded. “It’s worth a try. We only need to go downstream as far as that Twoleg nest with the rabbits.”

“Yeah, but…they’re kittypets,” Tigerheart pointed out.

Whitetail murmured in agreement. “If you go looking for them and they won’t come, then we’ve wasted time.”

“That’s the risk we take,” Lionblaze responded.

Dovepaw’s belly churned. If the rest of the patrol won’t agree, what can Lionblaze do?

After a few heartbeats, Sedgewhisker broke the silence. “I think we have to try,” she mewed. “We owe it to Rippletail.”

Petalfur nodded. “I don’t want to think that he died for nothing.”

The cats looked at one another, and Dovepaw knew that all of them were grieving for Rippletail, regardless of their Clan.

“Then go for it,” Toadfoot meowed. “I can’t think of anything better.”

“Right.” Lionblaze pricked his ears. “Dovepaw, you can come with me. The rest of you, keep practicing. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Dovepaw followed her mentor as he raced down the slope to the pool and leaped down into the streambed below the dam. As she followed him along the pebbly channel, she realized that her pads had grown tough and hard from their long journey. She didn’t even feel any pain when she trod on a sharp-edged stone.

The day was approaching sunhigh by the time they reached the copse where they had stopped to hunt. Lionblaze slowed his pace. “Snowdrop followed us here,” he mewed. “Maybe she comes here often. Dovepaw, can you sense her?”

Dovepaw was already feeling confused by the sounds of the Twolegplace: monsters, Twolegs yowling, and the strange, harsh clatter of their lives. She longed to block it out as she had done before, concentrating just on the ground in front of her paws and the leaves rustling closest to her, but this time she knew she couldn’t. She had to listen to everything, take in all the information that was filtering through her ears and her nose and her paws, until they found the cats. She cast out her senses, searching in particular for Snowdrop, but she couldn’t pick up any trace of the white kittypet.

“Never mind,” Lionblaze told her. “She’s probably by those rabbits, or inside the Twoleg nest.”

As they trotted downstream, Dovepaw soon picked up the scent of rabbit, and the two cats climbed out of the stream at the end of the Twoleg territory. The rabbits were still nibbling the grass behind their shiny fence, but there was no sign of the kittypets. Dovepaw couldn’t pick up anything except a fading scrap of Jigsaw’s scent.

“Where have they gone?” she wailed. “I thought they lived here.”

Lionblaze’s eyes reflected her own anxiety. “I thought this part would be easy,” he muttered. He hesitated, then added, “They probably see the whole of this Twolegplace as their territory. Do you think you can find where they are?”

Dovepaw’s belly lurched. Three kittypets? In a place as big and noisy as this? But she had found the beavers—and now she realized that she could do this, too. She had to use her senses again to make their journey worth Rippletail’s loss. “I’ll try.”

Crouching down, she closed her eyes and let her senses range out through the Twolegplace. This territory was so unlike anything she’d seen before that at first she had only a very fuzzy idea of what lay between the Twoleg nests. Gradually she began to build up a picture of rows and rows of nests, with Thunderpaths between them, the roar of monsters echoing off the hard red walls. Twolegs were running and shouting and carrying things around….

“The kittypets!” Lionblaze hissed urgently into her ear. “You’re looking for the kittypets.”

Dovepaw flung herself back into the swirling chaos of the Twolegplace. This time she slowed down, listening at each corner, letting the images fill her mind until she could see the smallest details: the shadows of leaves on the dark green bushes, the wide pink faces of Twoleg kits, the gleam of sleeping monsters.

Cats. You’re looking for cats…. There’s one!

Dovepaw picked up the whisk of a tail, the sound of paw steps scrabbling up a wall and down onto some grass. Carefully focusing, she let her senses follow it and tasted the scent.

No, it’s not one of the kittypets we met. Too young and skittish.

As her senses reached out again, a meow a little farther away caught her attention. That sounds familiar…. Tracing the sound, she spotted Seville, the big ginger tom, calling out to Jigsaw as he basked in the sun. And Jigsaw is…Dovepaw heard the scrape of claws on wood, and she knew the fat black-and-brown tom was balancing on a fence above Seville.

“I’ve found them!” she exclaimed joyfully. Opening her eyes wide, she gazed at Lionblaze. “Come on!”

Taking the lead, she padded along the edge of the stream, past the place with the rabbits, until they reached a narrow path leading between two of the Twoleg nests. Dovepaw’s fur bristled as she emerged onto a Thunderpath; the reek of monsters and the noise of Twolegs in their dens flooded over her until all she wanted to do was turn tail and run back to the forest to stuff leaves into her ears and nose.

The growl of a monster sounded from farther down the Thunderpath. Dovepaw leaped back, crashing into Lionblaze. “Sorry!” she gasped as the sleek, brightly colored monster swept past. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Lionblaze pushed his nose into her shoulder fur. “You can do it for the Clans. Now, do we have to cross this Thunderpath?”

Dovepaw nodded. Her heart was thumping so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest as her mentor nudged her gently to the edge of the hard black strip.

“When I say run, run,” he instructed her. He looked carefully both ways, his ears pricked for the sound of monsters, then raised his tail. “Run!”

Biting back a yowl of terror, Dovepaw launched herself forward. Her pads skimmed the surface of the Thunderpath; then she was safely across, shivering as she pressed herself into the shelter of a hedge.

“Well done!” Lionblaze purred. “Now where do we go?”

Pull yourself together! Dovepaw told herself fiercely. “This way.” She led Lionblaze along the edge of the Thunderpath, slipping behind a tree to hide as a slow-moving monster prowled past. “Do you think it’s looking for us?” she whispered.

Lionblaze shrugged. “I doubt it. But no cat knows what monsters are thinking.”

Turning away from the Thunderpath, following her sense of Seville’s and Jigsaw’s presence, Dovepaw found herself in a maze of narrow paths between walls of red stone and high wooden fences. As she rounded a corner, she almost stepped on a sleeping kittypet; the black tom sprang up, hissing, and leaped onto a fence before vanishing into the next garden.

Dovepaw let out a gusty breath of relief, then jumped, startled by the sound of a dog barking behind the fence on the other side.

“It’s okay,” Lionblaze mewed, though Dovepaw saw that his neck fur was bristling. “It can’t get at us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dovepaw muttered.

The crisscrossing paths didn’t seem to lead anywhere. Have I gotten us lost? Dovepaw wondered. Then, where two paths crossed, she scented the sharp tang of chopped grass and spotted a bush with strong-smelling red flowers. Yes! I’ve scented those before…and I remember that pattern of shadows the bush is casting on the path.

“We need to go around this corner,” she explained to Lionblaze over her shoulder as she quickened her pace. “Now over this wall…”

She leaped up, with her mentor beside her, and down onto a square of smooth green grass. Seville was basking at the foot of the fence on the other side.

“Hi, Seville!” Dovepaw called, racing across the grass to touch noses with the big orange tom.

Seville’s green eyes widened with surprise. “It’s the journeying cats!” he meowed. “What are you doing here? Did you find the animals you were looking for? Did you free the water?”

“We found the animals,” Lionblaze told him. “But we can’t free the water. We…we need help.”

“Do you mean our help?” a voice called from above. “Wow!”

Dovepaw looked up to see Jigsaw perched on top of the fence, his black-and-brown tabby pelt almost hidden in the shade of a holly tree. He jumped down, his fur fluffing up as he touched noses with Dovepaw and then Lionblaze.

Seville blinked, his eyes wary as he looked from Lionblaze to Dovepaw and then back again. “What exactly do you mean?” he rumbled.

“Do you know where Snowdrop is?” Lionblaze asked, avoiding the question. “We looked for you at the place with the rabbits, but we couldn’t find any of you.”

“I’m the only one who lives there,” Jigsaw explained. “Snowdrop’s housefolk live on the other side of that birch tree.” He pointed with his tail at a tall tree over a wooden fence. “How did you find us?” he added, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, it was easy,” Lionblaze replied. “We’re Clan cats, remember.” He shot an amused glance at Dovepaw.

“Wow!” Jigsaw’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go get Snowdrop for you,” he offered. “She’ll kill us if she misses a chance to help real wild cats.” Without waiting for a reply, he scrambled up to the top of the fence and disappeared.

Seville stretched, gesturing with his tail to the patch of sun-warmed grass beside him. “Lie down and rest,” he invited the Clan cats. “It’s lovely and sunny here.”

“We’ve had enough sun lately, thanks,” Lionblaze replied.

He turned to gaze out over the garden, clearly keeping watch for dogs and Twolegs, while Dovepaw tore at the grass with her front claws. Several moons seemed to pass before Jigsaw plopped down beside them, with Snowdrop following.

“Hi there!” the white she-cat greeted them, running up to Lionblaze to touch his ear with her nose. “It’s great to see you again.” Suddenly she backed off a pace, her lip curling as if she’d scented something foul. “You’re not going to make me eat fur and bones, are you?”

“No,” Lionblaze mewed. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”

“Great!” Snowdrop purred. “What do you want us to do?”

“We can fight, watch!” Jigsaw added. He leaped at Snowdrop, trying to wrap his forepaws around her neck. Snowdrop reared up on her hind paws and lost her balance as she aimed a blow at Jigsaw’s ear. Both cats toppled over onto the grass in a heap of fur.

Seville rolled his eyes.

“Er…that’s great,” Lionblaze meowed. “But we don’t need you to fight, actually. We need you to dismantle a dam.”

Snowdrop sat up, shaking scraps of grass off her pelt. “What’s a dam?”

Lionblaze described the huge mound of logs blocking the stream. “We fought the beavers, but they were too strong for us,” he explained. “So some of us are going to lure them away while the rest take the dam apart and free the water.”

Jigsaw blinked. “Will it be dangerous?”

Lionblaze nodded. “Yes,” he mewed.

The black-and-brown tabby’s eyes gleamed brighter still. “Good! We’re awfully bored, lying around here all day.”

Dovepaw’s conscience pricked her like a thorn in her pad. “This isn’t going to be fun,” she warned the kittypets. “A—a cat died.”

Snowdrop gasped and Jigsaw’s neck fur stood on end.

“But we won’t be fighting the beavers again,” Lionblaze reassured them, with a glare at his apprentice.

Dovepaw met his gaze. “We can’t ask them to come with us unless they know what might happen.” But what if they don’t come? she asked herself anxiously. What will we do then?

“We’ll come, won’t we, Jigsaw?” Snowdrop meowed.

Jigsaw nodded, though he looked less certain.

Seville let out a grunt and rose to his paws, arching his back in a long stretch. “I can’t let you young ’uns go off on your own,” he growled. “Who knows what you might get up to? I’ll come, too.”

“Thank you,” Dovepaw mewed. “Our Clans thank you.”

“Follow us.” Jigsaw bounced on his paws. “We know a quick way back to the stream.”

Dovepaw was amazed at how confident the kittypets were as they traveled through the Twolegplace. When they came to a Thunderpath, Jigsaw jumped right over a sleeping monster, leaving dusty pad marks on its gleaming snout. Seville and Snowdrop followed, then turned to wait for the Clan cats on the other side of the Thunderpath.

“Come on!” Seville called. “I thought you were in a hurry!”

Lionblaze gave Dovepaw a sidelong look. “Are we going to let those kittypets think we’re scared of monsters?”

“No way,” Dovepaw replied. Even if we are!

Lionblaze bunched his muscles and leaped up onto the monster’s hindquarters. Dovepaw followed, trying not to flinch as her pads struck the smooth, hot surface. She jumped onto its back, then down onto its snout. In a heartbeat, she was on the ground, panting with relief. Glancing back once she reached the other side of the Thunderpath, she realized that the monster hadn’t woken up, even after five cats had leaped over it.

Maybe monsters are stupid.

By now Dovepaw was completely lost, but she didn’t have time to stop and sense the direction they should be going. Then she spotted a line of trees, and through them the streambed. They emerged from the maze of the Twolegplace a few fox-lengths upstream from the place with the rabbits.

“Which way now?” Seville asked.

“Just keep following the stream,” Lionblaze replied. He took the lead, picking up the pace until he was racing up the channel.

“Hey, take it easy,” Jigsaw protested, wincing as he held up a paw. “These stones are sharp.”

“Okay, sorry.” Lionblaze slowed to a steady trot.

Dovepaw brought up the rear to make sure that none of the kittypets was falling behind. She could feel the tension rising as they drew closer to the dam—not just from the kittypets, from the air itself, as if something huge was about to happen. Above them, clouds were piling up in the sky, covering the sun, and a claw scratch of lightning flickered on the horizon. As they padded through the copse, Dovepaw could see how spooked the kittypets were, jumping whenever the branches rattled in the rising wind.

Putting on a spurt, she caught up to Jigsaw and fell into step beside him. “Are you okay?”

The tom’s only reply was a tense nod.

I hope that’s true, Dovepaw thought. Guilt and fear squirmed beneath her fur.

Oh, StarClan, am I taking more cats into a battle from which they’ll never return?

CHAPTER 22

Lionblaze jumped up onto the bank of the stream and turned to look back down at his ragged patrol. Seville, Snowdrop, and Jigsaw were standing with their mouths wide open as they stared up at the dam.

“That’s seriously huge!” Jigsaw breathed.

Snowdrop blinked at Lionblaze. “You really think we can move that?”

Lionblaze nodded, trying to hide his own doubts and give the kittypets confidence. “With all of us working together, yes, I do.”

“Come on,” Dovepaw urged them, leaping up to stand beside Lionblaze. “Let’s go find the others.”

Lionblaze led the way up the slope and into the clearing where he had left the other Clan cats. Pushing through the undergrowth into the open, he halted, eyes wide with surprise at the sight of a pile of logs in the middle of the clearing. Sedgewhisker was just heaving a branch onto the top of the stack, before leaping lightly down.

“Hi, you’re back,” she panted.

“I figured if we could stack branches, we could work out how to pull them apart,” Toadfoot explained, padding over to meet Lionblaze. His pelt was covered with scraps of twig and bark and he was breathing hard.

“Good idea,” Lionblaze meowed admiringly. “You’re doing a great job.”

At the opposite side of the clearing Petalfur was dragging a branch that was far, far bigger than she was. She didn’t stop until she reached the stack of logs and pushed her branch up to the foot of it. Then she limped wearily across the clearing to join Lionblaze and the others; her eyes as she gazed at the new arrivals were old and full of determination.

As Tigerheart and Whitetail trotted up with Woody, Lionblaze began to introduce the kittypets.

“I’m not a Clan cat,” Woody explained. “I’m just passing through.”

“I think I’ve seen you before, in the woods,” Seville meowed; he looked relieved to meet a cat who was even slightly familiar.

“We’ve got to discuss the plan,” Toadfoot announced as soon as the introductions were over. “We need to decide—”

“Hunt first,” Whitetail interrupted with a flick of her tail. “We can’t do this if we don’t eat and rest for a bit.”

Toadfoot looked briefly offended at being contradicted, then gave the WindClan she-cat a nod. “Okay,” he agreed. “But we’d better be quick about it.”

To Lionblaze’s relief, there was still plenty of prey in the woods, and it wasn’t long before the cats had gathered in the clearing again, crouching to eat their catch.

“We’ve already eaten, thanks,” Seville mewed when Whitetail offered him a mouse.

Snowdrop drew back, her green eyes wide with horror, but Jigsaw looked cautiously interested, and he leaned over to sniff the squirrel Dovepaw had caught.

“Go on, take a bite,” she encouraged him.

Jigsaw hesitated, then buried his teeth in the squirrel and tore off a mouthful.

“What do you think?” Dovepaw asked as he gulped it down.

“Er…not bad,” the tabby tom replied. “Just a bit…fluffy.” Night was falling by the time the cats had finished eating. The moon shone fitfully from behind drifting banks of cloud, and the air felt damp and heavy.

“I think Whitetail and Sedgewhisker should be the ones to lure the beavers away,” Lionblaze began as the rest of the cats clustered around him beneath the trees.

“Why?” The tip of Whitetail’s tail twitched. “We’re not scared to work on the dam.” Sedgewhisker nodded.

“Because WindClan cats are the fastest runners,” Toadfoot replied. “We all have to do what we’re best at.”

“Oh…okay.” Whitetail looked satisfied.

“I’ll come with you,” Woody meowed. “I know these woods. We’ll start off from the beavers’ lodge, and then go this way….” Picking up a twig in his jaws, he traced a line in the leaf-mold to represent the stream, and then a winding route through the trees. “There’s plenty of cover; they’ll have no idea what’s happening back at the dam,” he added, dropping the twig.

“That’s great, Woody,” Lionblaze told him.

“We’ll distract the beavers for as long as we possibly can,” Whitetail mewed.

“And if they do decide to come back, I’ll run ahead and warn you,” Sedgewhisker added.

Lionblaze nodded, with a sideways glance at Dovepaw. She can use her senses to track the beavers, too.

“So what about the dam?” Tigerheart prompted. “Once the beavers are out of the way—what then?”

“We’d be better off tackling it from the other side,” Lionblaze meowed. “That way we’ll be even farther from the beavers.”

“That’s a good idea,” Petalfur agreed. “And I’ve been thinking. Look at this.” She pointed with her paw to a small pile of twigs. “It’s easiest to knock the top logs off the dam”—she demonstrated by swiping at the topmost twig with a claw—“but if we can somehow get inside and shift the logs farther down, then the whole thing might collapse.” Delicately she removed a twig from the middle of her pile, and the heap crumbled, sending twigs rolling down the slope. “The weight of water would crush it.”

“Brilliant!” Tigerheart exclaimed.

“Hang on a moment.” Seville, the orange kittypet, spoke up. “You want us to go inside the dam and collapse it…and we would still be inside it, yes?”

Lionblaze nodded. “It’s risky, but it looks like it’s the only way.” He hesitated, gazing around at the worried faces of his friends. “We’ll just have to see what it’s like when we get there,” he ended with a shrug.

With a last glance at their companions, Whitetail, Sedgewhisker, and Woody headed upstream toward the lodge, while Lionblaze led the rest of the cats across the stream below the dam to the bank on the opposite side. Farther up the slope, they could see the Twoleg pelt-dens glowing with light and echoing with murmuring voices.

“What about them?” Toadfoot asked, flicking his tail in the direction of the pelt-dens.

Lionblaze paused at the bottom of the dam. “There’s nothing we can do about them,” he replied at last. “We don’t have enough cats to distract them. We’ll just have to hope that they don’t cause any trouble.”

“Hope’s the easy part,” Toadfoot responded caustically.

Lionblaze’s pelt prickled with tension as he waited for the signal from Whitetail. He could tell that the other cats felt the same. Dovepaw was scraping at the ground with the tips of her claws, while Tigerheart’s tail twitched back and forth. All three kittypets looked terrified, their eyes wide and their ears laid back.

Come on, Whitetail, Lionblaze urged. Get a move on, before one of us starts to panic.

“Remember,” he mewed aloud. “No cat is to fight. If the beavers come back and challenge you, don’t try to be a hero. We’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Right,” Toadfoot agreed. “If the beavers attack, run. Climb a tree. I don’t think they can—”

A piercing yowl from across the stream interrupted him.

“Something’s happening,” Lionblaze murmured, with a glance at Dovepaw.

She nodded. “The beavers are moving inside their den,” she whispered, so faintly that no other cat could hear.

Lionblaze peered upstream toward the lodge. At first the night was so black that he could see nothing. Then the moon drifted out from behind a cloud, and he spotted movement beside the mound of sticks. The beavers’ heads broke the surface of the pool and they scrambled up onto the outside of the lodge, their bodies swarming over the logs like bulky shadows.

On the bank, Lionblaze made out Whitetail’s pale pelt, with Woody and Sedgewhisker dark shadows beside her. He could just hear their mocking hisses, taunting the beavers to draw them off their den and away from the pool. One of the beavers grunted, then waddled down the hill of sticks and onto the bank. It started bustling toward the cats, its tail whispering over the leaves. The other beavers followed, clumsy but surprisingly fast. Sedgewhisker darted forward and dealt the leader a swift blow on the nose before dancing away again.

“Great StarClan!” Toadfoot spat. “Has she no sense?”

The beavers lumbered in pursuit as Whitetail and the others slipped back into the trees, drawing them deeper into the forest. Within a few heartbeats, Lionblaze lost sight of them.

“Go!” Toadfoot hissed.

As the cats jumped up onto the dam, a claw of lightning split the sky from top to bottom, and thunder cracked above their heads. Snowdrop flinched, pressing herself to the log where she was balancing, then forced herself to her paws again and kept climbing.

“We should split up,” Petalfur panted. “Some cat should come with me and start looking for a gap where we can get inside. The rest of you can start pushing logs off the top.”

“I’ll come with you,” Toadfoot offered.

Petalfur led the way across the dam, just above the level of the pool, with Toadfoot following her. Lionblaze watched as she halted and started prodding one of the logs; then he headed for the top of the barrier. Lightning crackled out again; Lionblaze was almost deafened by the roll of thunder that followed it, and his ears kept ringing afterward. He shook his head impatiently. Then fat drops of rain began to fall, splashing on the logs and on the cats’ pelts.

“This is all we need,” Tigerheart grumbled.

“We’d have been happy about it back at the lake,” Dovepaw pointed out. “I hope it rains there, too.”

As Lionblaze scrambled over the topmost log and stood looking down at the pool, the clouds burst. Rain poured down in a hissing screen that blotted out everything except the logs beneath his paws. His pelt was drenched within heartbeats; he shivered as the cold rain reached his skin.

“Okay,” he yowled, raising his voice to be heard above the drumming of the raindrops. “See if you can loosen some of these logs and branches. Push them down into the streambed.”

He grabbed a long, thin branch in his jaws and hurled it down, then bent his head to grapple with a bigger log. Jigsaw pushed at it from the other end; it rolled slowly to the edge and landed in the stream with a satisfying crash.

“Yes!” Jigsaw yowled.

Farther along the dam Tigerheart and Snowdrop were struggling with a tree trunk, while Seville was showering down twigs and smaller branches into the streambed. Dovepaw was crouched close to Lionblaze, her eyes closed; he guessed she was sending out her senses to find out what the beavers were doing.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Dovepaw blinked up at him through the driving rain. “Fine,” she replied. “Whitetail and the others are keeping the beavers busy.”

Lionblaze twitched his ears. “Good. Now come help me with this log. Otherwise every cat will start wondering what you’re doing.”

Dovepaw glared at him; Lionblaze knew how she felt about keeping her powers a secret, but he didn’t see what else they could do. Slipping on the wet logs, she struggled to his side and put her shoulder to the log he was trying to shift. Lionblaze thrust hard at it and felt it start to move, rolling faster and faster until it tipped over the edge and fell into the stream.

“Well done!” Lionblaze panted. “We—”

He broke off as the terrified screech of a cat cut through the hiss of the rain. A couple of tail-lengths farther along the dam, Lionblaze spotted Tigerheart’s paws skid from under him; the young warrior went plummeting down toward the stream, landing with a splash where rain was pooling on the stony bed.

Before Lionblaze could find a way to help him, he made out movement down below and Tigerheart appeared, clawing his way determinedly up the stack of logs. His mud-soaked fur stuck out in spikes, but his eyes gleamed with determination.

“Are you okay?” Lionblaze called out.

“No, I’m furious!” Tigerheart hauled himself onto the top of the dam. “I’d like to turn every one of those beavers into fresh-kill.”

“He’s okay,” Dovepaw murmured.

Lionblaze waved his tail at the ShadowClan cat, then began testing which of the logs around him could be dislodged next. They all seemed to be stuck fast, bound together with mud and twigs.

Then he heard Petalfur calling from farther down the mound. “Hey, we need some help down here!”

Heading toward the sound of the she-cat’s voice, Lionblaze was joined by the three kittypets. Their fur was plastered to their bodies and their eyes were wild with fear. But they didn’t hesitate, scrambling across the logs to answer Petalfur’s call.

I’ll never feel the same about kittypets after tonight, Lionblaze thought.

Petalfur and Toadfoot were clinging to the dam two or three tail-lengths above the pool. Rain stippled the surface while black water sucked at the lowest logs. A dark hole gaped in the mound beside Toadfoot and Petalfur, with a huge tree trunk poking out of it. “We pulled out some of the mud and twigs,” Petalfur explained. “If we can shift that trunk, I think a lot of the dam will go with it.”

“Okay, let’s try,” Lionblaze meowed.

Glancing around, he saw that Dovepaw and Tigerheart had also clambered down to join them. “Dovepaw, you’re the smallest,” he called. “Can you go right inside and push from there?”

Dovepaw gave him a tense nod and vanished into the hole. The rest of the cats lined up against the tree trunk and started to push. At first Lionblaze couldn’t feel it move at all.

“Harder!” he yowled. “Jigsaw, push more from your end! Toadfoot, can you wriggle underneath and pull out more of the mud?”

Gradually, as all the cats struggled and panted, the tree trunk began to shift. The outer end swung around; Lionblaze heard a crunching sound from inside the dam.

“Dovepaw, get out!” he screeched.

The apprentice popped out into the open again as more mud poured down into the hole, which quickly closed up. The tree swung further, tearing several more logs along with it, then ripped free and tumbled down the slope. Jigsaw was knocked off his paws as it slid past him; Snowdrop fastened her teeth in his shoulder and hauled him upright again. Tigerheart flung himself flat and the tree trunk bounced right over him, skimming his bristling fur. Lionblaze suddenly realized that the log under his paws was moving. He looked around for a solid place to jump to, but there was no time. As the log where he had been standing fell into the pool, he dug the claws of one paw into another branch and hung there, dangling in the air, with water lapping against his tail.

The pool was pushing hungrily at the dam. Lionblaze clawed his way onto a bigger log, feeling it shift under his weight. The whole structure was starting to shiver.

“Pull out those twigs!” Petalfur ordered Seville, gesturing with her tail. “Tigerheart, scoop the mud out of that hole. Toadfoot, you and Jigsaw help me roll this log down.”

Lionblaze took a gulping breath. How does Petalfur know what the water is going to do? He started to claw out pawfuls of twigs, realizing as he did that the level of water in the pool was rising—or was the dam sinking into it? A wave lapped over his head, leaving him spluttering; he caught a glimpse of Dovepaw and Snowdrop, working side by side, under the level of the trapped water.

We’ve got to work faster! he thought as Dovepaw popped her head up to take a breath. His legs ached as he forced them to tear at the branches and kick the debris away behind him as he worked. Suddenly he realized that Dovepaw was beside him again, water streaming from her pelt.

“The beavers!” she gasped. “They’re coming back!” A heartbeat later, Lionblaze heard terrified yowling; Whitetail, Sedgewhisker, and Woody dashed onto the top of the broken dam. Peering through the rain, Lionblaze made out the bulky, menacing shapes of the beavers just behind them.

“Quick!” he screeched. “Pull the logs out!” Every cat was tearing and scrabbling at the branches, but they were too tightly woven. Fury surged up in Lionblaze as he realized that they were going to fail, only because their time was running out.

Then he heard a rumbling sound coming from farther upstream. The dam began to shake.

“Flood!” Toadfoot shrieked. “Coming straight at us!”

Lionblaze whipped around, almost losing his footing on the unsteady logs, and saw a surge of water traveling downstream, a huge swelling wave that rose higher and higher as it drew closer. “Get off the dam!” he yowled.

Snowdrop was nearest to him; he grabbed her by the scruff, ignoring her outraged screech, and swung her down to the safety of the bank. Seville and Jigsaw leaped after her, followed by Woody.

Farther up the slope, yellow beams of Twoleg lights were slicing through the trees. Lionblaze spotted Twolegs charging down toward the stream, their voices raised. One beam of light picked out Dovepaw, clinging to a branch in the middle of the dam with all four sets of claws.

“Get back to the bank!” Lionblaze ordered.

But it was too late. The rumbling grew louder until it filled the whole world, cutting off the yowling of the Twolegs and the screeches of the cats. The dam was shaking too much to jump off now. Rushing water roared in Lionblaze’s ears as the storm surge struck.

“Hang on!” he shrieked.

He drove his claws hard into a log as the dam exploded, logs and branches flying up like twigs. The trapped water gushed through, pouring into the streambed and overflowing the banks. Lionblaze caught a glimpse of Woody and the three kittypets huddled together halfway up the slope, their jaws gaping, as the wall of water swept him away.

CHAPTER 23

Jayfeather groaned as he forced his eyes open on darkness. Poppyfrost’s scent was all around him and he felt her tongue rasping busily at his scratches.

“Jayfeather, please wake up!” she begged. “Please! I can’t carry you back to the hollow on my own.”

“Wha…?” For a heartbeat Jayfeather couldn’t remember where he was, or why his Clanmate was panicking.

“Oh, thank StarClan!” Poppyfrost exclaimed. “You’re not dying! I’m so sorry I caused all this trouble,” she went on, giving him rapid licks between words. “I had no idea Breezepelt had followed me all this way.”

Breezepelt…all this way…Jayfeather realized that he could hear the gentle sound of the waterfall cascading into the Moonpool. The memory flooded back, of his battle against Breezepelt and the mysterious cat who had joined in the fight against him. And the cat who had come to his rescue. If it wasn’t for Honeyfern, I’d be crow-food.

Jayfeather struggled groggily to his paws. “I’m okay, Poppyfrost. Stop fussing.” How much does she know? he wondered. Did she see the other cats in the battle?

“But you’re not okay!” Poppyfrost still sounded distraught. “You have a really deep scratch down this side.”

“Yeah, I’ve got Breezepelt to thank for that,” Jayfeather mewed. “It’s a good thing he didn’t bring any other cats with him,” he added, wondering if Poppyfrost would mention Breezepelt’s ally.

Poppyfrost shuddered. “I know. I couldn’t believe that he would attack a medicine cat. You were so brave, Jayfeather, fighting him off all by yourself.”

Relief tingled in Jayfeather’s paws. She didn’t see the others. But there was still something she needed to know.

“Honeyfern came to me just now,” he told her.

Instantly he felt the sharp stab of the she-cat’s emotions: a mixture of hope and fear.

“Did she…did she speak to you?” Poppyfrost asked nervously.

Jayfeather nodded. “She told me that she’s delighted that you’re with Berrynose. And she said that she’ll watch over your kits.”

“Really?” Poppyfrost’s voice softened to a purr. “Oh, I’m so glad!”

“Oh, and she told me that Berrynose really loves you,” Jayfeather added.

Poppyfrost’s purr faded. “I wish I could believe that….” She sighed. “But I don’t see how Honeyfern could possibly know.”

Jayfeather stifled an exasperated hiss. “She’s a StarClan cat. She knows lots of things that you don’t.” He stopped himself from adding, mouse-brain.

“I suppose we’d better get back to camp,” Poppyfrost mewed. “I’ll help you, Jayfeather.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

But as he struggled up the spiral path he became more aware of the throbbing pain in his side. His legs felt as weak as a newborn kit’s, and by the time they reached the line of thornbushes he had to lean on Poppyfrost’s shoulder.

They limped slowly down the path that led back to the forest, taking frequent rests along the way. Even though he was exhausted and in pain, Jayfeather’s mind was still working, and he began to realize just how strange it was that Breezepelt had followed Poppyfrost to the Moonpool.

Why? She never crossed into WindClan territory, and even if she had, the right thing to do would have been to chase her off. And why did Breezepelt threaten to kill her? He doesn’t hold any grudge against Poppyfrost. She’s not half-Clan, and she didn’t have anything to do with the lies Leafpool and Squirrelflight told.

Jayfeather let out a sigh. There was a lot that he didn’t know, but he needed to find it out, and quickly. The appearance of the cat he hadn’t recognized troubled him deeply.

“Are you okay? Do you want to rest again?” Poppyfrost asked.

“No, I can keep going.”

Warmth on his pelt told Jayfeather that the sun had risen, though a damp wind was sweeping over the moorland, flinging the occasional spatter of rain. The air felt heavy. His pelt prickled. There’s a storm coming. As they reached the WindClan border, Jayfeather kept tasting the air for Breezepelt’s scent, in case he was waiting to ambush them on their way home. But all he could pick up was the scent from the WindClan markers: strong and fresh, as if a patrol had been by not long before.

Poppyfrost jumped, interrupting his train of thought.

“What’s the matter?” he growled, his neck fur rising.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” the she-cat replied. “I saw a flash of lightning over the trees, and it startled me, that’s all.”

Jayfeather forced his fur to lie flat again. Are you a scaredy-mouse kit? he scolded himself. You’ll be frightened of falling leaves next!

But the danger was real, even if it wasn’t hard on his paws right now. Jayfeather’s pelt prickled as he wondered whether the cats of the Dark Forest were watching him now. The Dark Forest, the Place of No Stars, where the spirits of cats who had not been welcomed by StarClan walked alone….

Is that where the strange cat came from? It wasn’t Tigerstar or Hawkfrost. And what did Yellowfang mean? Was she warning me there will be a war between the cats of the Dark Forest and StarClan? And if there is, will the Clans have to fight?

Jayfeather let out a sigh. “I need a rest,” he muttered, sinking into the grass beside the stream. Battered and weary, he wondered how he ever could have imagined that he had the power of the stars in his paws.

Where are Lionblaze and Dovepaw? he wondered. I hope they’re safe, and on their way home.

Sunhigh was long past by the time Jayfeather and Poppyfrost staggered back into camp. As soon as they emerged from the thorn tunnel, Jayfeather heard paw steps racing from the nursery; Berrynose’s scent, sharp with anxiety, swirled around him.

“Where have you been?” the warrior demanded. Jayfeather heard the rasp of his tongue as he licked Poppyfrost’s ears. “I’ve been worried out of my fur!”

Poppyfrost broke into a puzzled purr. “It doesn’t matter. I’m back now.”

Berrynose pressed himself close to her side. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, too,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry.” Poppyfrost’s voice shook a little. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. You’re going back to the nursery right now.” Berrynose nudged her. “I’ll bring you some fresh-kill, and then you’re going to rest.”

Jayfeather stayed where he was as their paw steps retreated. Daisy and Ferncloud came out of the nursery to greet Poppyfrost, and Berrynose guided her inside, still scolding her gently.

Berrynose is a real pain in the tail, and yet he gets two apparently sensible she-cats padding after him, Jayfeather thought with a shake of his head. Weird.

Turning away, he limped across the clearing to his den, but as he settled down in his nest he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He felt as restless as the trees clattering their branches above his head. There’s a storm coming, and more than rain and thunder. The forces of the Dark Forest are rising….

Finally, after squirming around in his nest, failing to get comfortable or to put his worries out of his mind, Jayfeather decided to go down to the lake and find his stick. Maybe Rock knows something about the battle.

On the way out of his den he encountered Cinderheart, who was padding across the clearing toward the thorn tunnel.

“Thanks for bringing Poppyfrost back,” she mewed, touching his ear with her nose. “We were all so worried.”

“You’re welcome,” Jayfeather mumbled, just wanting to get away.

But Cinderheart stopped him as he tried to move off. “Are you okay?” she queried, her voice growing sharper with anxiety. “You seem…sort of upset. And—oh!” She gasped. “You’ve got an awful scratch down your side.”

“It’s nothing,” Jayfeather muttered.

“Nonsense!” Cinderheart meowed. “You’re a medicine cat; you know very well it’s not nothing. Come on. You’d never let any of us leave camp without having that treated.”

Taking no notice of Jayfeather’s protests, she herded him back into his den and headed for the storage cleft. A moment later she came back with a bunch of chervil leaves in her jaws. “This should stop any infection,” she announced, beginning to chew them up.

When the poultice was ready, Cinderheart’s paws moved deftly and confidently as she plastered it on Jayfeather’s side. He let out a sigh of relief as the throbbing pain ebbed.

Does Cinderheart ever wonder why she feels so comfortable in the medicine cat’s den? She knew exactly which herb to use and what to do with it. Will it ever be the right time to tell her that she used to be Cinderpelt?

Another pang of foreboding shook him. If there is a battle coming that involves every warrior since the dawn of the Clans, we’ll need all the medicine cats we can get.

Once Cinderheart was satisfied, Jayfeather headed out again, his pelt sticky with her poultice. Branches rustled above his head, and huge plops of cold water began to fall, splashing on his fur and flung against the trees by the rising wind.

“It’s starting to rain!” Foxleap’s voice came from among the trees, and a moment later a patrol caught up to Jayfeather, with Squirrelflight, Rosepetal, and Icecloud.

“Hey, Jayfeather!” Foxleap chattered on. “Isn’t this great? If it keeps raining, we won’t have to go get water anymore.”

An irritated hiss came from Squirrelflight. “Foxleap, now look what you’ve done! You’ve dropped your moss, and it’s all dirty. Stop getting so excited, and concentrate.”

“Sorry,” Foxleap meowed, though he didn’t sound at all subdued. “I’ll wash it off when we get to the water.”

Jayfeather padded beside the patrol until they drew closer to the lake. Then he veered off, heading for the place where he had hidden his stick, and dragged it out from under the roots of the elder bush. Dropping it into the shelter of the bank, he sat down beside it and ran his paws over the scratches.

The voices of the ancient cats were faint and far away.

“Rock…” Jayfeather murmured. “Were you at the Moonpool last night? Do you know what is happening in the Dark Forest?”

“Yes, I know.” A voice breathed in Jayfeather’s ear, sending a shiver through him from ears to tail-tip. “But I cannot stop it—and even if I could, I would not. This is a storm that needs to break, Jayfeather.”

Jayfeather’s ears twitched up in shock. “Why?”

“There have been too many lies,” Rock replied. “Too much pain has been caused among the Clans. Cats will have their revenge, and the oldest grievances will be settled.”

Jayfeather turned his head toward the voice, and he saw the hazy shape of the ancient cat, with his hairless body and sightless, bulging eyes.

“Did you know?” he demanded. “About Leafpool and Crowfeather?”

Rock let out a sigh that stirred Jayfeather’s whiskers. “Yes, I knew.”

Jayfeather sprang to his paws. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you know how much pain we went through?”

“It was not your time to know, Jayfeather.” The ancient cat’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact. “You had to be raised as a ThunderClan cat, trained in medicine by your mother, Leafpool. That was your destiny, Jayfeather.”

“It’s not the destiny I wanted!” Jayfeather snapped.

“There was no room for you to be half-Clan from birth,” Rock went on, as though Jayfeather hadn’t spoken. “No room for you to be rejected because your mother had broken the code of the medicine cats and the warrior code.”

Jayfeather stared at him, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. “So you lied, and every cat lied, for the sake of the prophecy?” Rage was building inside him until he was angrier than he’d ever been before in his life; he dug his claws hard into the ground to stop himself from raking Rock’s eyes out. “Do you think it was worth it? Do you? I thought you were my friend!”

Slowly Rock shook his head. “I am no cat’s friend. I know too much for friendship. Be glad that you will never be burdened with the knowledge that I have. My curse is to live forever, knowing what has been and what has yet to be, powerless to change anything.”

His outline began to fade. As it vanished, Jayfeather’s fury erupted. He felt around on the ground until he located a sharp stone. Then he snatched up the stick, balanced it across the stone, and brought his forepaws smashing down on one end. He heard the stick break, and splinters pierced his paws. Rock and the ancient Clans had betrayed him, too. Did no cat tell the truth, ever?

In the same heartbeat, thunder crashed out overhead, rolling around the sky. Rain cascaded down onto the lakebed. Jayfeather crouched under the bank, his jaws wide in a soundless wail, and wrapped his paws over his ears.

CHAPTER 24

Dovepaw sank her claws into a branch as the wave of floodwater swept her downstream. The yowling of terrified cats was all around her, but she could see nothing except the heaving dark water and the tops of the trees as they spun past. Her pelt was drenched, she was shivering with cold, and she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life.

“Hold on!” Lionblaze’s voice rose above the chaos of the storm.

“Where are you?” Dovepaw wailed, but there was no reply.

A wave crashed over her, filling her mouth and nose with water. Still managing to cling to the branch, she forced her head to the surface, spluttering and coughing as she fought to breathe. Harsh yellow light flashed across her vision, and Dovepaw realized that she was being carried past the dens of the Twolegplace. I hope the kittypets get home safe, she thought fuzzily.

Something dark loomed up ahead of her: the branches of an overhanging tree, dipping down and trailing in the surge of water. Dovepaw kicked out frantically, trying to avoid it, but the floodwater drove her right into the middle of the branches. They scraped at her fur as she was carried past, almost sweeping her off her branch.

Gripping as hard as she could, until she thought her claws would be ripped out, Dovepaw was suddenly jerked into open water again. A bundle of tabby fur, dark from the water, whisked past her with a wail.

Tigerheart!

Blinking water out of her eyes, Dovepaw watched with horror as the young ShadowClan warrior vanished under the surface.

StarClan, no!

Taking a deep breath, she let go of her branch and plunged after him. Catching at memories of Rippletail and Petalfur swimming in the pool behind the dam, she tried to copy their movements. But it was hard. Her soaked fur was heavy and her legs ached with exhaustion. She kept banging into more floating branches that pushed her under the water, and when she resurfaced, waves spat in her eyes.

Dovepaw had almost given up hope of ever finding her friend when she caught a glimpse of Tigerheart bobbing up again less than a tail-length from her, before vanishing almost at once. She swam toward him, then dived under the surface.

Above, the water had been dark, with only fitful gleams of moonlight flickering on the surface. Down here, Dovepaw felt as blind as Jayfeather, sending out her senses to locate Tigerheart and pushing through the murky water until her paws touched his pelt.

He’s not moving! Am I too late?

Grabbing a mouthful of his fur, Dovepaw paddled frantically upward. As her head broke the surface, a branch bobbed past her and she wrapped her front legs around it. Tigerheart’s weight threatened to drag her under the water again, but Dovepaw wouldn’t let go. Relief flashed through her when she spotted Petalfur swimming strongly toward her.

“Rippletail will not die in vain,” the RiverClan cat hissed through gritted teeth. “StarClan will not take any more warriors from us.”

She gripped Tigerheart by the scruff, relieving Dovepaw of his weight. Dovepaw was able to haul herself a little higher out of the water, where she caught sight of a flat piece of wood being whirled toward them on the current. Floundering through the flood, she managed to grab it and pushed it toward Petalfur.

Together the two she-cats hauled Tigerheart onto the flat wood and crouched beside him, clinging on as the water carried them across the stretch of green grass at the edge of the Twolegplace, and into the woods beyond.

Dovepaw realized that she could see more clearly; the rain-filled sky was growing gray with the first pale light of dawn. The water was calmer now; it still overflowed the stream banks, but the first terrifying wave had died down. Looking around, Dovepaw spotted branches scattered over the surface, and here and there, bobbing up and down, the heads of cats.

“Yes!” she gasped, reaching out her tail to touch Petalfur on the shoulder. “There’s Toadfoot! And Lionblaze! And there’s Whitetail and Sedgewhisker, hanging on to the same branch.”

“Thank StarClan,” Petalfur mewed. “They’re all safe!”

As she spoke, Tigerheart began to thrash and splutter, tilting the piece of wood dangerously so that water surged over them.

“Lie still,” Dovepaw told him. “You’re safe. And we’ll be home soon.”

At last the current slowed enough for the cats to leave the branches they were clinging to and wade through the shallows to solid ground. All seven cats huddled together, panting and watching as the floodwater gradually washed back between the banks of the stream.

Rain was still pouring steadily down, but Dovepaw scarcely noticed it. She was wetter than she had ever been, and she had swallowed so much water she couldn’t imagine ever being thirsty again. Drawing a deep breath, she listened to the water glugging and pooling and splashing through the woods, through ShadowClan territory, and finally down to the lake, where it swelled over the dried mud and stones, rippling into every crack and hollow, spreading silvery twigs across the parched surface.

We did it, she thought. We brought back the lake.

Tigerheart was sprawled on the ground, coughing up mouthfuls of water while Petalfur rubbed his back.

“Will he be okay?” Dovepaw asked anxiously.

“He’ll be fine,” Petalfur assured her. “This is what we do in RiverClan if kits fall into the lake before they can swim. It always seems to work.”

Tigerheart coughed up more water, then turned his head to look blearily up at Dovepaw. “Thanks,” he rasped.

When he had recovered enough to stagger to his paws, all the cats gathered and stood in a circle with their heads bowed.

“StarClan, we thank you,” Whitetail meowed. “You helped us to destroy the dam and protected us in the flood. We ask you to honor Rippletail, the warrior who will never come home.”

Dovepaw lifted her head and caught Lionblaze’s eye. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

StarClan didn’t save us. We did.

CHAPTER 25

The daylight grew stronger as the cats headed back through the woods, following the edge of the stream. Branches were strewn everywhere, left behind by the retreating wave; they had to scramble over them or wriggle underneath, until Dovepaw felt as if her paws wouldn’t carry her a step farther.

I wish I was back in my nest. I’d sleep for a moon!

Gradually the rain eased off, and though it didn’t stop, patches of blue sky appeared as the wind tore the gray cloud into strips. In the shelter of the trees, the cats’ fur began to dry in untidy clumps.

“When I get back, I’m going to groom myself like I’ve never groomed before,” Whitetail muttered. “My pelt has never been as filthy as this.”

Suddenly Toadfoot halted with his head raised and his jaws parted to taste the air. “I can smell ShadowClan scent markers!” he announced.

Strength seemed to flow back into Dovepaw’s paws, and all the cats picked up speed. Soon they crossed the border.

“I never thought I’d see the day when I was glad to be in ShadowClan territory,” Lionblaze murmured to Dovepaw.

She nodded. This journey has changed the way we think about the other Clans, forever.

A few heartbeats later, she picked up the scent of approaching ShadowClan cats, and soon they appeared through the trees: a patrol led by Tawnypelt, with her apprentice, Starlingpaw, and the warriors Owlclaw and Redwillow.

“Toadfoot! Tigerheart!” Tawnypelt exclaimed, bounding forward through the rain. She touched noses with Toadfoot, and she pushed her muzzle into Tigerheart’s fur, murmuring, “You’re safe!”

A shiver went through Dovepaw as she imagined what this meeting would have been like if Tawnypelt’s son Tigerheart had not returned.

“This is wonderful!” Tawnypelt went on, drawing back to gaze at the rest of the cats. “You brought the water back! Starlingpaw, run back and let Blackstar know right away.”

Her apprentice took off through the forest, his paws skimming over the pine needles and his tail waving excitedly.

“Come on,” Tawnypelt urged. “You’ve got to come back to our camp and tell us everything.”

Dovepaw exchanged a glance with Lionblaze; she wanted to be home in the stone hollow, but at the same time she was reluctant to say good-bye to the rest of the patrol.

Whitetail and Sedgewhisker whispered together for a heartbeat; then Whitetail nodded. “We’ll be glad to visit with you,” she mewed.

Lionblaze agreed too, and though Petalfur seemed reluctant, she followed the others as they were escorted through the forest by Tawnypelt and the rest of her patrol.

Dovepaw could hear the yowling of excited cats long before they reached the camp. Through the trees she saw the ground slope upward to a line of bushes where Blackstar stood, flanked by his warriors. More cats were emerging from the bushes around them.

“Welcome to our camp!” Blackstar called, beckoning them with his tail. “Rest here and take your pick of the fresh-kill pile.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Blackstar?” Lionblaze muttered into Dovepaw’s ear as they padded up the slope.

Flametail and Dawnpelt, Tigerheart’s littermates, dashed up to touch noses with him.

“I just went down to the lake!” Dawnpelt announced excitedly. “The water is flowing back.”

“It’ll take a while to fill up,” Flametail added, rubbing his muzzle against his brother’s shoulder. “But the Clans have been saved, and you did it!”

“We all did it together,” Tigerheart meowed.

Dovepaw felt strange to be welcomed like this, especially when the cats of ShadowClan had been so secretive and suspicious in the past. Besides, she didn’t feel as if she deserved this much praise. We lost Rippletail, and we nearly didn’t destroy the dam at all. And we couldn’t do it on our own—we needed kittypets and a loner to help us.

“Come into the camp.” Blackstar repeated his invitation as he padded forward to meet the patrol.

Petalfur dipped her head. “Thank you, Blackstar, but no. I have lost my Clanmate, and I must go back to RiverClan and tell them how he died.”

“We’ll go with you,” Lionblaze offered immediately; Whitetail and Sedgewhisker murmured agreement.

Petalfur held her head high. “Thank you, but I will go alone.” Without waiting for a reply, she dipped her head once more to Blackstar, then to the rest of the patrol, and walked away. Dovepaw watched her until she disappeared among the trees.

“It’s time for us to go, too,” Lionblaze told Blackstar. “Whitetail, will you and Sedgewhisker travel back with us?”

“Yes, we will,” Whitetail replied. “Blackstar, thank you for asking us into your camp, but it’s time we went back to our own Clans.”

A pang of regret clawed through Dovepaw as she turned to say good-bye to Toadfoot and Tigerheart. They seemed different, somehow, now that they were back with their Clanmates. Already their scent was sharpening, had become less familiar, and their expressions were harder to read. They’re more…more ShadowClan now. When we were traveling together we were all one Clan.

Toadfoot was standing beside Tawnypelt; he gave Lionblaze and the others a dignified nod. “I’m proud to have traveled with you,” he meowed. “And prouder still that we achieved what we set out to do.”

To Dovepaw, it sounded like the kind of formal report a leader would make at a Gathering; not for the first time, she wondered how Toadfoot really felt, and if his loyalty had ever really extended beyond his own Clan to the cats who had traveled with him.

With a sidelong glance at his Clanmates, Tigerheart bounded up to Dovepaw and rubbed his muzzle against hers. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. “I’ll see you at the Gatherings, right?”

Dovepaw just had time to reply, “Yes, I’ll miss you, too,” before Toadfoot beckoned the younger warrior away with a jerk of his head. Tigerheart bounded back to his Clanmates.

“Keep practicing that battle move I showed you,” Sedgewhisker reminded him. “I’ll beat you at the next Gathering!”

Tigerheart gave a last wave of his tail as the ThunderClan and WindClan cats turned away, heading back through the drenched pine trees toward the stream. With Lionblaze in the lead, they walked silently along the bank, still keeping to the ShadowClan side, until they reached the lake.

Dovepaw had half expected to see it brimming full, as it had been in her dream, but the water’s edge was still far away across the stretch of mud. The stream was spilling out onto the dry stones of the lakebed; I don’t suppose any of us will mind getting our paws wet in future, Dovepaw reflected as they splashed through the water and padded along beside ThunderClan territory.

When they reached the point where she and Lionblaze would need to turn in to the forest to head for the stone hollow, they said good-bye to the WindClan cats.

This is really the end, Dovepaw thought sadly. We’re not a patrol any longer. Just cats from different Clans.

“Good-bye,” Whitetail mewed; her eyes were full of regret, as if she too was sad that their journey had come to an end. “May StarClan light your path.”

“And yours,” Lionblaze replied.

He and Dovepaw stood close together for a few heartbeats, watching the two WindClan cats trek wearily along the edge of the lake. Then the ThunderClan cats scrambled up the shore and headed into the dripping trees. Before they had taken more than a couple of paw steps, Dovepaw heard a yowl behind them and spotted Sandstorm racing across the lakebed, with Foxleap, Icecloud, and Toadstep following her. All four cats carried bundles of soaked moss in their jaws.

“Hey, it’s Lionblaze and Dovepaw!” Foxleap exclaimed, dropping his moss and putting on a spurt to pass Sandstorm and reach his Clanmates first. “You’re back! You brought the water!”

Icecloud raced alongside her brother. “What happened?” she mumbled around her mouthful of moss. “Did you find the animals?”

“Was it scary?” asked Toadstep, his eyes shining as he crowded around with the others.

“Give them some space,” Sandstorm meowed. “There’ll be plenty of time to hear their story back in the hollow. Foxleap, run ahead and tell Firestar that they’re back.”

Foxleap took off through the trees with a joyful flick of his tail, while Lionblaze and Dovepaw followed more slowly, escorted by the water patrol. By the time the thorn barrier across the entrance to the hollow came in sight, cats were spilling out through the thorn tunnel. Just like the floodwater breaking through the dam, Dovepaw thought. Briarpaw, Bumblepaw, and Blossompaw were scampering around, play fighting with one another in their excitement. The older warriors followed more slowly, their tails erect and their eyes shining. Poppyfrost emerged, heavy with her kits, escorted by Ferncloud and Daisy. Even the elders appeared, Mousefur guiding Longtail with her tail across his shoulders, and Purdy lumbering along behind.

As Firestar pushed his way through the thorns, the other cats drew back to each side to let him pass. The ThunderClan leader padded forward until he stood in front of Lionblaze and Dovepaw, and he reached out to touch each of them on the shoulder with the tip of his tail.

“Congratulations,” he mewed, his green eyes shining with pride. “You have saved the lives of all the Clans.”

Gesturing with his tail, he invited Lionblaze and Dovepaw to enter the camp ahead of him. The rest of the Clan poured in behind. Cloudtail dragged an enormous rabbit from the fresh-kill pile and dropped it at Lionblaze’s feet.

“Here, eat,” he meowed. “You both must be starving.”

“Later, thanks.” Lionblaze dipped his head to the white warrior. “We’ve got to report to Firestar first.”

But it was impossible to move because more and more cats pressed around them.

“What was blocking the stream?”

“Were there really brown animals?”

“Did you have any trouble with the Twolegs?”

Trying to ignore the excited questions, Dovepaw strained upward on the tips of her paws, peering over the heads of the cats who surrounded her.

Where is she?

At last she spotted Ivypaw hanging back from the crowd, casting a shy glance at her sister and then gazing down at her paws. Dovepaw shouldered her way through the cats until she reached her sister.

“Ivypaw!” she mewed. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Ivypaw looked up at her with sad eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t!” she confessed.

“Don’t be such a mouse-brain,” Dovepaw murmured affectionately. “We’re best friends, aren’t we? I thought of you all the time!” Well, lots of the time at least.

“Hey, Dovepaw!”

At the sound of her mentor’s voice, Dovepaw turned. Lionblaze was standing with Firestar and Brambleclaw near the bottom of the tumbled rocks.

“We need to make our report,” he called. “Firestar wants us to tell the whole Clan what happened.”

“Coming,” Dovepaw replied.

As she padded toward him, she saw Lionblaze’s gaze shift to focus on something behind her. “Jayfeather,” he mewed with a nod.

Glancing back, Dovepaw saw Jayfeather approaching from the direction of his den. She swallowed a gasp of shock: The medicine cat looked seasons older than when she and Lionblaze had left the camp. His eyes were haunted, his body had the gaunt look of an elder, and he had a fresh scar down one side. He put one paw slowly in front of another, as if he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him upright.

“Welcome back,” he rasped.

“Thanks, Jayfeather.” Dovepaw couldn’t take her eyes off him. What had happened while they were away to make him look like that?

Looking back at Lionblaze, Dovepaw saw her own shock reflected in his eyes. She followed Jayfeather as he headed over toward the Clan leader and the other cats, with a quick glance over her shoulder at Ivypaw.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised.

“That’s very bad news about Rippletail,” Firestar meowed when Lionblaze and Dovepaw had finished their report. “We are all Clanmates in this. We have lost a brave warrior.”

All the Clan bowed their heads in silence.

Spiderleg was the first to break it. “You mean you actually asked kittypets for help?”

“And you fought these…what did you call them, beavers?” Dustpelt meowed. “You’ll have to teach us the right battle moves in case they come here.”

“They’d better not, or I’ll give them somethin’ to think about,” Purdy grunted.

Firestar raised his tail for silence. “That’s enough for now,” he meowed. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk to Lionblaze and Dovepaw later. Let them eat and rest first.”

Lionblaze retreated to the fresh-kill pile, where he tucked into Cloudtail’s rabbit with Jayfeather and a few of the other warriors. Even though she couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, Dovepaw felt too exhausted to join them. She tottered across the clearing and pushed through the ferns into the apprentices’ den.

Briarpaw followed her in. “Look!” she mewed proudly, pointing with her tail toward Dovepaw’s nest. “We made it especially comfortable for you.”

Dovepaw saw that her nest was lined with soft gray feathers. “Thank you,” she purred, warmed by the friendship of the older apprentices. “That looks great. It must have taken you ages.”

“You deserve it!” Bumblepaw added, poking his head through the entrance.

“Yes, you’re a hero!” Blossompaw chirped, popping up beside him. “The Clans won’t ever forget what you did.”

The three apprentices left Dovepaw alone to settle down and rest. It felt strange to curl up in her own nest again. Now that I’m back, I’m just an ordinary apprentice, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I be out on a patrol or something?

Her nest had never felt so warm and comfortable, but Dovepaw kept shifting around in the feathers, unable to sleep.

What’s wrong with me? I’m so tired my fur’s dropping off!

She opened her eyes at a rustling sound to see that Ivypaw had pushed her head through the ferns.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she mewed.

“I can’t,” Dovepaw confessed. “I feel as if I’ve got ants in my pelt.”

“Want to go for a walk?”

Maybe she needed to do something to make her even more tired. Dovepaw scrambled out of her nest and followed her sister through the thorns and into the forest. This was better than trying to sleep, alone with her thoughts. Her paws tugged her toward the lake and the water that she had freed. The sun had set, leaving the forest shrouded in twilight. The rain had stopped and the wind had died down; the air was damp and fresh, moving softly against her pelt. The grass already felt lush and juicy under her paws.

The drought is over. The Clans will survive! Dovepaw paused briefly, blinking in surprise. I did that, she realized. If it wasn’t for my senses, the Clans would still be dying of thirst. Pride flooded over her with the force of the freed water surging down into the lake. Maybe it won’t be so bad, having these powers, if I can use them to help my Clan.

Reaching the lake, the two she-cats leaped down from the bank to stand on the very edge of the mud, looking out toward the distant ripple of water.

“Am I imagining it, or does it look closer?” Dovepaw whispered.

“I think it does,” Ivypaw replied. She gave an excited little skip. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s really full, with the water all the way up here.”

Dovepaw took a pace forward and halted as something sharp dug into her pad. “Ow! I’ve trodden on something.” Looking down, she saw two parts of a stick marked with scratches, the broken ends splintered. With an annoyed flick of her tail, she pushed the scraps away and examined her pad.

“Are you okay?” Ivypaw mewed.

“Yes, fine.” Dovepaw swiped her tongue over her pad. “The skin’s not even broken.”

She stood close to her sister again, their pelts brushing. Ivypaw twined her tail with Dovepaw’s, letting out a soft purr. “I’m so glad you’re back, Dovepaw.”

“So am I.” Dovepaw buried her muzzle in her sister’s soft pelt. “I’ll never leave you behind again,” she promised.

CHAPTER 26

“What’s happening?” Berrynose poked his head into the entrance of the nursery. “Why aren’t the kits born yet?”

Jayfeather paused with his paw resting gently on Poppyfrost’s belly and let out an exasperated sigh. “Because it’s not quite time, Berrynose,” he meowed, forcing his voice to remain calm. “You don’t need to worry.”

He could feel powerful ripples passing through Poppyfrost’s body as her kits prepared themselves to be born. The young she-cat lay on her side on the soft moss of the nursery; Daisy was crouched beside her head, licking her ears, while Ferncloud stroked her pelt with a calming paw.

“Yes, Berrynose, why don’t you go catch a shrew or something?” Daisy suggested. “We’re getting on just fine.”

“Then why is it taking so long?” Berrynose demanded.

Jayfeather rolled his eyes. When Daisy had first roused him to come to the nursery, Berrynose had insisted on staying with his mate. But he had been such a nuisance, getting in the way and questioning everything the medicine cat did, that Jayfeather had sent him outside. But it annoyed Jayfeather almost as much to hear him pacing up and down, and sticking his head in every few heartbeats to ask stupid questions.

Any cat would think no queen had ever kitted before!

Berrynose withdrew, and Jayfeather could hear his nervous pacing start up again. Outside the nursery, night lay over the stone hollow, with a gentle breeze stirring the trees and the scent of leaf-fall in the air. Two nights before, Jayfeather had traveled to the Moonpool to meet with the other medicine cats. He had hoped to learn more about Yellowfang’s warning, but none of the other medicine cats spoke about messages from StarClan, or dreams of the Dark Forest. When Jayfeather settled down to sleep by the lake, he had found himself padding through the sunlit territory of the Clans’ ancestors, but no starry warriors had answered his calls.

A grunt of pain from Poppyfrost distracted Jayfeather, and another powerful ripple passed through her belly.

“It won’t be long now,” he promised.

Daisy stopped licking to give Poppyfrost a drink from a clump of soaked moss, and the she-cat relaxed with a long sigh. “No cat told me it would be such hard work,” she murmured.

“What happened? I heard something! Are they here yet?” It was Berrynose again, thrusting his head and shoulders into the nursery.

“Berrynose, you’re blocking all the light,” Ferncloud pointed out gently. “It really isn’t helping.”

“These are my kits, you know,” Berrynose protested.

“Yes, and I’m the one having them!” Poppyfrost meowed sharply. “Honestly, Berrynose, I’m fine.”

At that moment, Jayfeather heard his brother’s voice calling from outside the nursery. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” Jayfeather called back. “Keep Berrynose out of my fur!”

Berrynose drew back with an offended snort, and Jayfeather heard Lionblaze talking quietly to him. The paw steps started up again, but this time there were two sets, drawing a little farther away from the nursery.

“Right,” Jayfeather mewed. “Now we can get on with it.”

Poppyfrost grunted as she strained to bring her kits into the world. “I don’t think they’re ever coming,” she panted as the spasm passed.

“They will,” Jayfeather told her calmly. “This first kit is a big one; that’s why it’s taking longer. But it’ll be here soon.”

The she-cat gasped for breath; Jayfeather felt her belly convulse, and a kit slithered out onto the moss.

“Oh, look!” Ferncloud exclaimed in a delighted purr. “A tom—and he’s beautiful, Poppyfrost.”

Poppyfrost gave a grunt of acknowledgment as another spasm passed through her. Jayfeather carefully felt her belly. “Just one more to come,” he told her.

She’s getting tired, he thought. Come on, kit, get a move on. Your mother needs to rest.

Daisy gave Poppyfrost another drink, while Ferncloud bent over her, murmuring encouragingly. But Poppyfrost was barely conscious by the time the second kit, a little she-cat, slipped out to join her brother.

“Oh, they’re just beautiful!” Daisy whispered; she and Ferncloud bent their heads to lick the kits into wakefulness. “Look, Poppyfrost. Aren’t they lovely?”

Poppyfrost let out an exhausted murmur and gathered the two kits toward her belly. Jayfeather could hear their tiny squeaks that faded into silence as they began to suckle.

“All done,” he stated with satisfaction. “Here, Poppyfrost, eat these borage leaves. They’ll help your milk to come.”

Listening to the new mother licking up the herbs, Jayfeather suddenly had the sensation that the nursery had grown more crowded. “Okay, Berrynose, you can come and meet your kits,” he meowed.

He turned, expecting to pick up Berrynose’s scent. Instead he realized that he could see the branches of the nursery, intertwined with bramble tendrils to keep out the drafts.

Am I dreaming?

There was no sign of Berrynose, but three other cats were sitting beside the nursery wall. Horror stiffened every hair on Jayfeather’s pelt when he saw the muscular tabby shapes of Tigerstar and Hawkfrost, one with gleaming amber eyes, the other with ice blue. The third cat was a big brown tom with a crooked tail. Jayfeather had never seen him before, but he recognized the scent of the cat who had attacked him at the Moonpool during his fight with Breezepelt.

There was hunger in the eyes of the three spirit cats as they stared at the newborn kits.

Jayfeather was still frozen with shock when Lionblaze pushed his head into the den. “Can Berrynose come in yet?” he asked.

Then his eyes narrowed and he turned his head toward the three cats from the Dark Forest. “You will not have these kits!” he hissed.

Jayfeather’s heart began to pound. “You can see them?”

Lionblaze nodded. “Yes. I can see them.” He let out a snarl, baring his teeth.

“Lionblaze, what in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Daisy asked. “Go get Berrynose.”

At the sound of the she-cat’s voice the three cats vanished, and Jayfeather’s sight went dark once more. He crouched down, trembling, as Lionblaze withdrew, and forced himself to turn back to the kits. The sound of healthy suckling calmed him, and he managed to pull himself together as Berrynose came into the nursery.

The young warrior was quivering with excitement. “Oh, wow! A son and a daughter!” he exclaimed. He pressed himself close to Poppyfrost, covering her face with licks. “You’re so clever, so beautiful,” he kept repeating. “Our kits are going to be the best in the Clan!”

As Jayfeather listened, he became aware of Honeyfern’s scent wreathing around him, and a faint murmur reached his ears.

Thank you.

His head still spinning, Jayfeather slipped into the clearing. Lionblaze was waiting for him. “Do you know who that third cat is?” he demanded.

Jayfeather shook his head. “I don’t know his name, but I’ve met him before. He attacked me at the Moonpool when I was fighting against Breezepelt.”

“What?” Lionblaze sounded horrified, and his claws scraped against the earth of the clearing.

Quickly Jayfeather told him what had happened when he had followed Poppyfrost to the Moonpool. “Breezepelt seems to want vengeance on every cat in ThunderClan,” he finished, “because of what Leafpool and Crowfeather did.”

“I can understand that…in a way,” Lionblaze meowed. “But where did the other cat come from?”

“Yellowfang spoke to me in a dream,” Jayfeather told his brother. “She seems to know this cat—he comes from the Dark Forest, like Tigerstar and Hawkfrost—but she didn’t tell me his name.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand why cats from the Dark Forest are suddenly appearing among the Clans. Do they really want to get involved in new quarrels?”

But that’s what Rock told me, he suddenly remembered. He spoke about ancient grievances that will be answered. Is this what he meant?

“Jayfeather, there’s something I need to tell you.” Lionblaze led his brother out through the thorn barrier and into the forest, halting to face him on the mossy ground beneath an oak tree. The branches creaked peacefully above them in the breeze.

“I have a confession to make,” Lionblaze began.

Jayfeather listened, his mouth dropping open with horror, as Lionblaze told him how Tigerstar used to visit him at night, and how the vengeful cat had trained him to fight better and more strongly than his Clanmates. Not for the sake of his Clan—but to satisfy Tigerstar’s own hunger for power.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jayfeather croaked when Lionblaze had finished.

“Because I thought it was my destiny,” Lionblaze replied. “Tigerstar told me he was my kin, but he knew all along that he wasn’t. So he lied, he lied to get me on his side, as one of his warriors for a battle among the Clans.”

“It’s coming,” Jayfeather whispered. “A battle between StarClan and the Dark Forest, and every warrior will be called upon to fight.” Ice-cold fear raised every hair on his pelt. “Did the three cats come tonight in case one of Poppyfrost’s kits died, so they could take it to the Dark Forest?”

“They don’t need dead kits,” Lionblaze meowed. “They can visit the living, just like they visited me.” He hesitated. “I—I think they’re training Tigerheart already. In the battle against the beavers, I saw him use a battle move that Tigerstar taught me.”

Jayfeather’s thoughts flew back to the Moonpool, and how Breezepelt hadn’t seemed at all surprised to be fighting alongside the shadowy warrior. “They’ve recruited Breezepelt, too,” he realized. “Feeding off his hatred of us, and his hunger for revenge. But how? Warrior ancestors have never been able to touch the living world before now.”

“They have.” Lionblaze’s tone was grave. “When I trained in my dreams with Tigerstar, toward the end, I woke up with real injuries.” Jayfeather felt his brother’s tail-tip rest on his shoulder.

“They’re breaking through,” Lionblaze growled. “And when the battle comes, it will be for real.”

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Cherith Baldry

Turn the page to play the first adventure in the

Visit www.warriorcats.com to download game rules, character sheets, a practice mission, and more!

Written by STAN! • Art by JAMES L. BARRY

FEVER DREAMS

Several moons have passed since the end of the “Saving the Kits“ mini-adventure, found at the end of the Warriors Adventure Game rules on warriorcats.com. If the players’ cats went through that adventure, they are all now 4 moons older. Before starting play, everyone (including the person who will take the first turn as Narrator) should use the information found in the “Improving Your Cat“ section of Chapter Four in the game rules to give their characters the benefits of that passage of time.

Unless you are going to be the first Narrator in this adventure, stop reading here. The information beginning in the next paragraph is for the Narrator only.

The Adventure Begins

Hello, Narrator! It’s time to begin playing “Fever Dreams.“ Make sure all the players have their character sheets, the correct number of chips, a piece of paper, and a pencil. Remember that the point of the game is to have fun, so don’t be afraid to go slow, keep all of the players involved, and refer to the rules if you aren’t sure exactly what should happen next.

When you’re ready, begin with 1 below.

1. A Dream of Death

Special Note: This section presumes that the players’ cats come from different Clans. You should modify this section if all the players’ cats are from the same Clan. In that case, only one medicine cat needs to be present, and the fever only needs to affect that Clan.

Read Aloud: “It’s a troubling time for the cats in every Clan. Despite the fact that it is the height of greenleaf, usually a time of good health and full bellies, a mysterious disease has swept through the territories. Cats in every Clan, from the smallest kit to the strongest warrior, have been coming down with a fever that, if not treated quickly, can be deadly. You’ve been called into a meeting with several Clan leaders and medicine cats.“

Narrator Tips: Your job in this scene is to have these Clan leaders and medicine cats tell the characters about how big the fever problem is and to answer the players’ questions. Give the players an idea of what’s going to happen in this adventure—what the goal is, what the stakes are, and what is expected of their cats.

In this meeting are the leaders of two Clans and the medicine cats from the other two. (You can find a list of the current Clan leaders and medicine cats on warriorcats.com.) If the characters ask where the other leaders are, tell them that they are absent because they have come down with the fever and are unable to leave their nests. (If all the cats are from one Clan then this detail is unimportant—everything will focus around that Clan. However, you can still make it so that the Clan leader is one of the cats who is sick.)

The medicine cats are all baffled by the current fever. It is different than greencough—easier to cure, but more deadly if medicine is not given in time. Luckily feverfew, the herb usually used for fevers, works, but so many cats are sick that the Clans are running through their supplies quicker than they can

be replenished from local sources.

All of the medicine cats have had the same dream from StarClan—a dream that says if the medicine runs out, many cats will die. The dream also hints at the location of a new supply of feverfew, an untouched patch of the herb that could save the Clans. But the patch is far away, and the medicine cats have to stay with their Clans to treat the sick.

The players’ cats have been chosen because they are young, strong, and haven’t contracted the fever—yet. Their vital mission is to find this new patch, gather as much feverfew as possible, and bring it back quickly. Unfortunately, as dreams from Star-Clan often are, this one was short on specifics. The medicine cats can only repeat StarClan’s words to the characters:

To the north, the Hill That Cries holds what you need… Along a winding face, topped with dozens of eyes, you will find one special pool with a garden of the herb you seek.

The medicine cats have no more information, but will teach the characters how to wrap feverfew in leaves to make it easier to carry back. They stress that this is one of the most important missions in the history of the Clans. If the characters cannot bring back a new supply of medicine within a week, many cats will die. Because of that timeline, the medicine cats are sure that the Hill That Cries must be within three days’ travel from the lake; otherwise, it would be impossible for the cats to go there and return in time.

What Happens Next: When the players understand the situation and their assignment, continue with 2.

2. A Long Journey

Special Note: There is no Read Aloud section in this scene as it involves mostly the Narrator improvising the first part of the journey.

Narrator Tips: At this point, you can either lead the characters through a journey to the Hill That Cries, or you can decide to skip that time and get right into the adventure. Some players will want to spend time on the journey, hunting and figuring out where to go, and other players will not. It’s up to you, as Narrator, to figure out what your players would enjoy most. If they want to take time to go through the journey, use the snippets of information below to build the scene.

- The trip takes them along the edge of some Twoleg nests, and the cats may meet up with rogue cats or kittypets on the way. Those cats don’t know of any Hill That Cries, but they can say that the nearby hills do have a lot of small lakes and ponds.

- If extra excitement is needed, the cats may be chased by a dog or have to cross a Thunderpath.

- The cats may want to do some hunting for fresh-kill along the way. Use the information in Chapter Five of the rules to lead the players through that activity.

When the scene feels complete, the cats have arrived at the Hill That Cries—a thickly wooded hill that has a pair of thin, quickly rushing streams coming down it side by side, making it appear as though the hill is indeed crying.

What Happens Next: There are three ways to head up the hill—follow the rocky shore of the streams, go directly into the woods, or go along a dirt path that was clearly made by Twolegs.

If the cats walk beside the streams, continue with 6.

If the cats go directly into the woods, continue with 7.

If the cats follow the Twoleg path, continue with 8.

This marks the end of the chapter. After the characters have made their decision about which way to go, hand the adventure to the next person who will take the role of Narrator, tell him or her what number to continue with, pick up your cat’s character sheet, and resume playing the game.

3. The Crumbling Cliff

Read Aloud: “The cliff is made of very soft rock. Although that means that your claws can grab tight, it also means that the rocks sometimes crumble when you grab them.“

Narrator Tips: Climbing the cliff is practically impossible, but the cats may not figure that out right away, and finding out the hard way can be bad for their health. Make sure the players understand that falling from the cliff may cause their cats to be seriously injured.

Climbing the cliff requires a total of five successful Climb Checks. Each Check will be harder than the previous one. The first Check only requires a total of 4 or higher to succeed, but each Check after that increases in difficulty by +2. So the second Check requires a total of 6, the third Check requires a total of 8, the fourth a total of 10, and the final Check requires a total of 12 or higher to succeed.

You, the Narrator, should stress to the players how difficult the Check will be before their cats decide whether or not to attempt it. They should know how difficult the task will be because failure has a severe penalty.

If a cat fails a Climb Check, he or she has slipped or the rock has crumbled—the cat is falling off the cliff. That cat must immediately make a Jump Check. If the total is equal to or higher than the difficulty of the current Climb Check, the cat is okay. For example, if it was the third Climb Check (which would need a total of 8 to succeed), then the Jump Check must also be 8 or higher in order to succeed. If the Jump Check is too low, the cat will sustain injuries. He or she loses a number of chips equal to the difference between the Jump Check total and the target number. For example, if the cat needed an 8 to succeed but the Check total was only 5, he or she loses 3 chips! (The player may choose which type of chip to lose.)

If a cat realizes that a Climb Check is too difficult and wants to go back down the cliff voluntarily, he or she may do so by making a Jump Check. If the total is 5 or higher, the cat gets down safely. If the total is 4 or lower, the cat is injured and loses 1 chip (player’s choice).

What Happens Next: If any of the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 12.

If the cats decide to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to take the Twoleg path instead, continue with 8.

If all the cats manage to climb the cliff safely to the top, continue with 5.

4. A Strange Thunderpath

Read Aloud: “The thick forest of trees gives way to a large, open meadow. But this meadow is being patrolled by an angry group of Twoleg monsters!“

Narrator Tips: This is the meadow where the humans are riding their ATVs. They are driving as fast as possible then skidding to a stop, using small hills to cause their vehicles to jump into the air, going into the woods along narrow paths, and then returning to the meadow at full speed.

To the cats, this will be an almost inexplicably strange sight. Try to describe it in the weird and alien way it would seem to a cat—let the players make their own conclusions about what’s really going on.

There is no more path to follow, but it is easy to tell which way the cats have to head in order to reach the top of the hill. If any cats try to use their senses to find clues as to where

to go next, they may uncover the following. Any of the following Checks must have a total of 5 or higher in order for the cat to perceive anything over the ruckus the monsters are making. A Listen Check can reveal the faint sound of splashing water just a little farther up the hill—a sign that the pools of water they’re seeking may be nearby. A See Check can reveal a small stream running through the meadow—another sign that pools of water may be nearby. A Smell Check can reveal the scent of fresh herbs wafting down from the woods beyond the meadow—perhaps even the distinct scent of feverfew.

Unfortunately, the only way to get to the woods is to cross this grassy meadow and, hopefully, avoid the monsters along the way. If the cats try to sneak around the outside of the meadow, they keep finding that monsters suddenly appear out of the woods and force them back the way they came. Their only real hope is to cut across the meadow or go back toward the dirt path. Of course, they can also head back down the hill and try a different route entirely.

If the cats decide to try to cross the meadow, it’s just a matter of timing and luck. Each cat in turn must do the following.

1. Make a Focus Check—This is to help them concentrate on this important task. If the total is 4 or higher, the cat gets a +1 bonus to the Checks in steps 2 and 3 below. If the total is 7 or higher, the bonus increases to +2.

2. Make a See or Listen Check—This is to recognize the pattern the monsters are following and time a safe sprint across the open field. If the total is 3 or less, the cat gets a –1 penalty on the Pounce Check below. If the total is 6 or higher, the cat gets a +1 bonus to the Pounce Check below.

3. Make a Pounce Check—This is to make the dash across the field. If the total is 7 or higher, the cat gets across safely. If the total is between 4 and 6, one of the monsters steps on the cat’s tail and the cat loses 2 chips (player’s choice) from the injury. If the total is 3 or less, one of the monsters swats the cat, doing damage that causes the cat to lose 4 chips (player’s choice) from the injury. As long as the cats aren’t Knocked Out by this damage, they make it safely to the far side of the meadow.

What Happens Next: If the cats all make it across the meadow, continue with 5.

If any of the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 12.

If the cats decide to go back to the Twoleg path, continue with 10.

If the cats decide to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to go directly into the deep part of the woods, continue with 7.

5. You Give Me Fever

Read Aloud: “Despite the fact that it’s a warm day in the middle of greenleaf, you feel cold. In fact, you find yourself beginning to shiver slightly.“

Narrator Tips: Although the cats seemed completely fine at the start of the adventure, the truth is that they were already infected with the fever that is ravaging the Clans. But out here in the middle of a strange land, there is no medicine cat to take care of them, nor a comfortable nest to lie down in. The cats must press on. If they are successful in their mission, they will have feverfew to cool their brows. But until then, they must muddle through as best they can.

This isn’t a dramatic scene so much as it is a time when the cats have to muster their willpower and press on despite the fact that their own bodies are working against them. Whenever the cats reach this point, each must make a Spirit Check.

The first time a cat plays through this scene, if the total of the Spirit Check is 5 or higher, nothing happens. If the total is 4 or lower, though, he or she is feeling ill and must lose 1 chip of the player’s choice—as though the cat had taken damage in a fight (see Chapter Five of the game rules for details).

Each time the cat plays through this scene, the difficulty of the Spirit Check increases by 1. So the second time it must total 6 or higher in order to succeed, and it must total 7 or higher to succeed on the third time. This continues until the cat is cured of the fever.

What Happens Next: If the cats have just finished following the river or climbing the Twoleg path, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 15.

If the cats have just left one of the wrong ponds or successfully climbed the cliff, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 16.

If the cats have found the right pond, go back to 20 and follow the additional instructions.

6. Down by the River Side

Read Aloud: “As you go up the hill, the rocks grow bigger and the streams get wilder. So just as the climbing gets tougher, the rocks also become harder to navigate.“

Narrator Tips: Your job in this scene is to give the characters some information, and then let them choose their path. There are three main paths the cats may take. They can walk along the slippery rocks, dangerous as it may be. They can move away from the stream to the forest’s edge, but since the rocks along the stream are growing bigger, it will be impossible to see the water and the cats won’t know if the streams point to anything important. Finally, the cats can decide that walking along the stream is not the way they want to go after all, and they can try one of the other ways up.

You should give the players a chance to discuss the matter. Each course of action has its own ramifications and possible dangers. Your job is to make sure they understand that all the choices have their own element of risk.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to walk along the slippery rocks, continue with 13.

If the cats decide to move to the edge of the woods, continue with 11.

If the cats decide to leave the stream and go into the deep woods, continue with 7.

If the cats decide to leave the stream and go up the Twoleg path, continue with 8.

7. Into the Woods

Read Aloud: “The woods are unusually dense, with trees growing close together and the ground covered in a thick underbrush. Still, you’re able to make steady progress.“

Narrator Tips: This scene is about the cats moving through the woods on the lower part of the hill. The going is tougher than they might hope because they have to push their way through underbrush and wind their way between trees. However, the cats still seem to be making good time, which seems odd. Have the characters each make a Ponder Check, and anyone whose total is 3 or higher realizes that the reason things are going quickly is that they don’t really seem to be going uphill very much—which is strange considering that they’re supposed to be climbing a very tall hill.

Once the cats realize this and the players have had a chance to talk about what it might mean, continue below.

Read Aloud: “As you push through the underbrush, suddenly you find yourself stepping into a clearing. A short field of grass leads up to a sheer wall of rock that is nearly as tall as the trees themselves.“

Narrator Tips: The reason this section of the woods has been so flat is that it runs directly up to this cliff. In order to continue to the top, the cats will have to either climb this cliff or go back and try one of the other routes up the hill. If the players ask, tell them that the cliff goes almost straight up and down and that there is not an obvious route or a series of ledges for the cats to use—climbing this cliff will be very difficult and very dangerous.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to climb the cliff, continue with 3.

If the cats decide to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to take the Twoleg path instead, continue with 8.

8. Sounds and Smells

Read Aloud: “As you’re walking along the dirt path, you notice the odor of the Twoleg monsters. That, in addition to how unnaturally flat, smooth, and uniformly wide the path is, makes you certain that this was made by Twolegs, rather than deer or other large animals. In the distance you can hear strange sounds, similar to but definitely different from those you’ve heard the monsters make along the Thunderpath.“ Narrator Tips: Although you, as the Narrator, should probably not explain the situation in human terms to the players (because their cats would not perceive things in that way), the easiest way for you to understand this scene is to know what the humans are up to.

The path that the cats are climbing is a private dirt road up to a small cabin. The path is bumpy by human standards, but seems unusually smooth to the cats. Right now a group of Twolegs are visiting the cabin, and they brought some small 4-wheel all-terrain vehicles (ATVs). They parked their trucks by the cabin and are spending the day riding the ATVs through the meadows and paths farther up the hill. They’ve also left a dog by the cabin to guard the site and their equipment.

Of course, the cats don’t know (and wouldn’t understand) any of this. But use the knowledge to describe what the cats can see, smell, and hear as they climb the path. The clues will get stronger as the cats progress, and eventually they will have to decide whether they want to continue to follow the Twoleg path or go through the woods (which would lead them toward where the strange sounds are coming from). Of course, alternatively, they could decide to go back down the hill and take one of the other routes, but of all the ways up the hill, this one is the most certain and easy to follow.

What Happens Next: If the cats stay on the Twoleg path, continue with 10.

If the cats cut through the woods toward the strange sounds, continue with 4.

If the cats decide to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to go directly into the deep part of the woods, continue with 7.

9. Cats Can Swim

Read Aloud: “With a splash, you’re tumbling through ice-cold water and being carried down the hill and away from your friends. You’ve got to get out of the water fast!“

Narrator Tips: Any cat that’s in the water must make a Swim Check that totals 5 or higher in order to get control of himself or herself. Then the cat must make a second Swim Check with a total of 4 or higher in order to successfully swim over to the edge of the stream. Finally, the cat must make a Climb Check that totals 3 or higher to get out of the water and back onto the

rocks. Any cat that gets safely out of the water in this manner automatically gains +1 in the Swim Skill, but this can only happen the first time. If the same cat falls in again, he or she gains no additional bonus from getting out.

Every time a cat in the water fails a Skill Check, that cat takes damage from being in the chilly river, and must lose one chip (player’s choice). So being in the water too long makes it even more difficult to get out.

The other cats will probably want to follow along the shore and try to help their friends in the water. This is difficult and dangerous. If they try to follow along the rocks, the cats must make a Focus Check each round. If the total is 3 or lower, that cat slips and falls into the water, too. Alternatively, the cats can jump down from the rocks and follow by the forest’s edge. This is safer, but they can no longer see their friends directly. In that case, they must make a Listen Check with a total of 3 or higher to hear where along the riverbank the swimming cats are.

What Happens Next: If the cats all successfully climb out of the water, continue with 11.

If one or more of the cats are Knocked Out because of damage taken in the river, continue with 12.

10. The Twoleg Nest

Read Aloud: “The path winds back and forth as it goes up the hill. Eventually it leads toward a Twoleg nest, and standing in front are a pair of monsters!“

Narrator Tips: The monsters the cats see are two parked trucks that the Twolegs have used to haul their ATVs up to the cabin. The Twolegs are now out riding the ATVs in the meadow, so the cabin is mostly quiet. However, sleeping in one of the truck beds is a dog who was left here to guard the trucks and other gear.

At first, you should describe the scene as being very quiet. Tell the players that if their cats cross the yard and go behind the Twoleg nest, they should be able to continue up to the top of the hill. Also tell them that the monsters here are completely silent and still. Have the cats cross the yard, and ask them to each make a Smell Check to see if they notice anything odd. (Players may also ask if their cats can try other Checks like See or Listen, and you should certainly let them. However, those Skills will not reveal any further information—the dog is completely hidden from sight and although it’s asleep, it isn’t snoring.)

If the total is 5 or lower, the cats notice that the monsters don’t smell as bad as they do when they’re traveling on the Thunderpath, but they do still smell pretty awful. If the total is 6 or higher, they also notice the scent of a dog coming from on the back of one of the monsters.

If the cats cross the yard without taking any special precautions, there’s a very good chance that the dog will wake up. Flip a coin twice. If it comes up heads on either flip the dog is awake. If the cats are at all noisy while crossing the yard—goofing around or, worse, talking loudly to one another—the dog should automatically wake up.

If the cats try to move stealthily across the yard, have them each make a Sneak Check. Add the totals from all the Checks together to get a group total. If that group total is equal to or higher than the number of cats x4, then they get across safely; otherwise, the dog has woken up. (Do not count the Narrator’s cat in this total, only the cats of the players who are actively participating in the scene.) For example, if there are four cats actively trying to go across the yard, the group total of all their Sneak Checks must be 16 or higher (4 x 4 = 16) or the dog will wake up.

What Happens Next: If the cats get across safely, continue with 5.

If the dog wakes up, continue with 22.

If the cats decide to go into the woods toward where the monster noises are coming from, continue with 4.

If the cats decide to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to go directly into the deep part of the woods, continue with 7.

11. At a Safer Distance

Special Note: If the players arrive here because some of the cats fell into the water, explain that their cats have realized this is the only safe way to follow the river. If they would rather follow one of the other paths, continue with the choices at the end of scene 2, but tell them that they’ve lost almost half a day because of this delay.

Read Aloud: “The hill is steep, but traveling by the edge of the woods is much easier than crawling over the river rocks. However, from this vantage point you can no longer see the water.“

Narrator Tips: As the cats go farther up the hill, the terrain gets rockier and they have to go around some boulders. It is easy, while doing this, to get turned around and lose track of where the river is. You should describe how the large stones and thick woods mix and overlap to create cliffs and roadblocks and detours that make it difficult to keep a good sense of direction. It’s not even always clear which way is up the hill because of little groves and valleys that form in these remote places.

The group should have one cat take the lead. That cat must make a Ponder Check to see if he or she can correctly follow the path.

What Happens Next: If the Ponder Check total is 6 or lower, the cats are lost. Continue with 14.

If the Ponder Check total is 7 or higher, the cats have successfully followed the river to its source. Continue with 5.

12. Knocked Out!

Special Note: There is no Read Aloud section for this scene. If the cats have ended up here, it is because one or more of them have been Knocked Out or otherwise been so damaged that the group cannot continue.

Narrator Tips: It is up to you, as Narrator, to describe the results that led the cats to this end. If one or more of them get Knocked Out in the river, were their friends able to pull them from the water at the bottom of the hill or were they washed downstream to some unknown fate? If they were beaten in combat, do they manage to stagger back to their Clan camps or are they now wounded rogues in a strange territory? Were they captured by Twolegs and imprisoned in one of their nests?

The details are left up to you. The one thing that will remain true in every case is that the cats did not get the needed herbs, and the fever continues to ravage the warrior Clans. Many cats will die, and while it’s certainly not the characters’ fault, they had the chance to prevent it and they failed.

What Happens Next: The adventure is over for the cats. They acted bravely but, in the end, did not have what it took to overcome the dangers they faced.

Although they can be proud of the bravery they showed, the cats do not get any Experience rewards for this adventure. They can, however, play the adventure again, hopefully using the things they learned to bring about a better conclusion the next time.

13. Slippery When Wet

Read Aloud: “The higher up the hill you go, the bigger the rocks get. And wherever the water splashes on them, they’re covered with some kind of slippery green plant.“

Narrator Tips: Climbing over the rocks is not going to work out

for the characters. It just keeps getting tougher and tougher and eventually they are going to fall into the water. But, as the Narrator, you have to give them a chance to discover that for themselves.

Describe to the players that as they look up the hill, they see the stream turning into a river and the rocks getting bigger and bigger. Also, these bigger rocks are wet almost all the time, so they are completely covered by a thin layer of algae that makes them even harder to climb. Tell the players that the cats can change their minds and walk by the edge of the woods if they prefer.

If the characters want to continue on this route, have all the cats make Climb Checks. If any cat’s total is lower than 2 that cat slips and falls into the water (see below for what to do if that happens). If everyone’s total is 2 or higher, they can continue. Soon, though, they have to make another Check. Tell the players that this looks like it will be more difficult than the last one. Give them a chance to get off the rocks rather than attempt the Climb Check. If they do try to Climb, this time any cat whose total is lower than 3 slips and falls in.

Continue this process, always giving them a chance to opt out voluntarily and with each successive Check being 1 point more difficult than the last. Eventually, the cats will have to give up voluntarily, or some of them will fall into the water.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to leave the rocks and go over by the edge of the woods, continue with 11.

If any of the cats slip and fall into the water, continue with 9.

14. Where’d the River Go?

Read Aloud: “That doesn’t seem right at all. Shouldn’t the river be where that giant oak tree is?“

Narrator Tips: The cats have gotten lost. This may not panic them terribly since they didn’t really know where they were to begin with, but somehow they’ve got to get their bearings and head up the hill so they can find the pool that has the feverfew.

Let the players suggest ways their cats could find their way out of this predicament. Perhaps they want to listen for the river, or use their innate senses to tell which way is north, or which way is the bottom of the hill they started at. You, as Narrator, have a lot of flexibility to let this scene play out whatever way is most fun for the group. In the end, though, it should require a Skill or Ability Check (whichever one you think is most appropriate), and the total must be equal to or higher than 7 (just as in scene 11). However, in this instance it is possible for the cats to gather their efforts and work as a team.

Whatever Check is being attempted, one cat should perform it. The others can all perform Focus Checks to try to assist in the effort. For every assisting cat that gets a total of 4 or higher on the Focus Check, the cat performing the main Check receives a +1 bonus.

For example: In a group of five cats, one of them has to make a Ponder Check to figure out how to get to the river. The other four may make Focus Checks to assist. If three of these cats get 4 or higher on their Focus Checks, then the first cat will get a +3 bonus to the Ponder Check. If that total is 7 or higher, then the cats have found the river again.

The cats may try these Checks multiple times, but it doesn’t get any easier. If they spend too many of their chips in failed attempts, the cats will end up in a situation where they no longer have any chance of success.

What Happens Next: If the cats succeed at the necessary Skill Check, continue with 5.

If the cats are in a position where there is no chance for them to succeed at the necessary Skill Check, they remain lost and actually move deeper into the woods. They must rest for the night and try again in the morning. As the Narrator, you can play out this scene in as much detail as you like, but be sure to emphasize that this delay could be tragic if they don’t get the feverfew back to their Clans in time. In the morning, the cats get the healing benefits of a night’s sleep (as described in Chapter Five in the game rules). They also get to refresh their chips. They may now continue with 5.

15. A Beautiful Pool

Read Aloud: “You’re getting near the top of the hill and still you haven’t seen any of the ‘eyes’ that the medicine cats told you about. Then, as you push through the brush, you see not one but literally dozens of pools of water. Some are no more than large puddles, while others are whole ponds.“

Narrator Tips: Before they go any farther, tell the players that it is time to refresh their chips. Any chips they have spent can now be returned to their chip pool, though chips lost due to injury remain lost. (See Chapter Five of the rules for details on refreshing your chips.)

Now the cats must decide where to search for the feverfew. Let the players talk about it as much as they like. When they’re ready to make a decision, each cat must make a Ponder Check. Add up all their totals to get a group total. If that number is equal to or greater than the number of cats x5, they have gotten an insight into the problem. (Do not count the Narrator’s cat in this

total, only the cats of the players who are actively participating in the scene.) For example: If there are three cats actively Pondering, the group total of all their Ponder Checks must be 15 or higher (3 x 5 = 15) in order for them to get an insight.

What Happens Next: If the cats have gotten an insight into the problem, continue with 16.

If the cats failed to get an insight, continue with 18.

16. Guardian

Read Aloud: “Beneath the boughs of an elm tree, you see the most serene and beautiful pond yet. Perhaps this will turn out to be the right one.“

Narrator Tips: Something just feels right about this pool, but before the cats can check it out they will have to deal with one last challenge. A badger has dug its den in the ground near the pool and it doesn’t like to share the clean, clear water with outsiders. Before the cats approach the water, have them each make a Smell Check. Any cat whose total is 4 or higher catches the scent of an animal in the area. Those same cats (and only the ones who succeeded at the Smell Check) may then attempt a Ponder Check to determine what animal it is. If one of these cats has the Animal Lore Knack, this would be a perfect time to use it. If the Ponder Check total is 6 or higher, the cat recognizes the scent as that of a badger. If the total is 7 or higher, the cat remembers the following information about badgers.

Badgers—Badgers are smart, tough animals. They are very protective of their territory, especially their dens. They don’t like fighting, but once a fight is started a badger will not quit until it or its enemy is dead. If you happen upon a badger, do not act in an aggressive way. Stand your ground and try to show the badger that you are not an enemy, but you’re also not afraid of it. If it senses fear or danger from you, the badger will attack.

A cat with this insight knows that the best thing to do if a badger comes out is for a single cat to take the lead. That cat should stand facing the badger and perform an Arch Check, but, and this is very important, none of the cats should appear angry or Hiss at the badger. If the Arch Check conveys enough confidence and calmness, the badger will let the cats pass.

Read Aloud: “With a wuffling snort, a badger waddles out of the burrow. A squat beast with bristly fur, small eyes, and a large, sensitive nose, the most prominent feature on the badger are its long, deadly, sharp claws.“

Narrator Tips: Let the players discuss what to do—don’t rush them. Let any cat who does not have the Animal Lore Knack now attempt a Ponder Check. If the total is 7 or higher, the cat remembers the badger information listed above. The cat also knows that it’s possible for the rest of the cats to help the one taking the lead. All the remaining cats can make Focus Checks. For each cat whose total is 5 or higher, the lead cat will get a +1 bonus to his or her Arch Check.

If the Arch Check has a total of 8 or higher, the badger snorts again and waddles back into its burrow. Otherwise, it will charge in for a fight.

What Happens Next: If the cats succeed in the Arch Check, continue with 20.

If the Arch Check fails or if the cats try any other strategy, continue with 21.

17. Delirious

Read Aloud: “Maybe it’s the fever, or just exhaustion setting in, but you’re finding it harder and harder to concentrate.“

Narrator Tips: Even though they know with absolute certainty that the feverfew is somewhere around this pool, the cats haven’t found it yet. By this point, several of them may be suffering the effects of the fever, and a few may even be Knocked Out. Time is running out and you, as the Narrator, should make them fully aware of that.

There really is no action that takes place in this scene. The cats must continue their search. You should use this scene as a reminder that the cats are starting to feel more and more worn down. As you describe the upcoming scenes, stress how tired they are and how ill they are feeling. Try to get the players to think about what it feels like to be running a high fever—the disorientation and confusion and exhaustion—and convey that their cats are feeling just that way.

What Happens Next: If more than half of the cats are still awake and active, continue with 20.

If more than half of the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 12.

18. Not the Right Pool

Read Aloud: “You’ve found a beautiful pool—calm, clear water, tall grass growing around its banks. Surely this is where the feverfew will be found.“

Narrator Tips: Let the cats search around the pond briefly, allowing them to make See or Smell or Ponder Checks, if they like. Cats with the Herb Lore Knack may use that in these efforts. Pretty quickly, though, they should realize that there is no feverfew around this pool, so they must be in the wrong place.

Let the cats make another group Ponder Check to gain an insight. This is just as described in scene 15 except that it is a little easier (since they have gained some experience from this wrong turn). This time they gain insight if the group total is equal to or higher than the number of cats x4. And, if they wind up trying this again later in the adventure, the target for the Ponder Check multiplier drops by 1 each time (so it’s cats x3 on the third Check and cats x2 on the fourth).

What Happens Next: If the cats failed to get an insight, they must retry scene 18 again. Don’t tell them that they are doing the same scene a second time. Improvise a slightly different Read Aloud section and make them feel like they have certainly found the right pool this time.

If the cats have successfully gotten an insight into the problem, continue with 5.

19. Feverfew

Read Aloud: “Along the water’s edge, hidden among the roots of tall grass and reeds, you finally find it—a thick, green, overflowing patch of feverfew!“

Narrator Tips: Success! The cats have found the feverfew!

Using the instructions given to them by the medicine cats, they can gather as much of the herb as they need. And the cats who are currently suffering from the ill effects of the fever can begin taking the medicine right away. They won’t be completely healed, but they will feel a little bit better right away. (They get 1 chip of immediate bonus healing.)

The adventure is over, but let the players describe what their cats are doing and how they will get the feverfew back to the Clan territory. Then skip ahead over the two days of travel, and describe the scene when the cats return.

At first, the medicine cats will simply grab the herbs and get to work, perhaps leaving the characters to feel unappreciated. But later, the medicine cats and the Clan leaders and all the other healthy members of the Clans will come and thank them, telling them that they are real heroes. And it’s true.

What Happens Next: The adventure is over. Well done!

20. One Special Pool

Special Note: The cats may come to this scene more than once. After the first time, there is no need to reread the Read Aloud section; just get to the meat of the scene.

Read Aloud: “The other pools are certainly beautiful, there’s no doubt about it. But there is something special about this pool. And there is a fresh, hopeful scent in the air.“

Narrator Tips: The cats are absolutely certain that this is the right pool. The scent of feverfew fills the area. Unfortunately, that makes it more difficult to determine where exactly the patch is. It will take a group effort to find it.

Each cat must make either a See or a Smell Check. Add their totals together to get a group total. Write that number down; you may need to remember it later. If the group total is equal to or greater than the number of cats x6, they have succeeded in finding the feverfew. If the group total is less than that number they have failed to find the herb.

It is possible that the cats will fail to find the feverfew on their first attempt. If so, they will have to visit this scene a second and possibly a third time. Each time they do, they build on the same group total. So, for example, if there are six cats, the group total must be 36 in order for them to succeed (6 x 6 = 36). If the first group total is only 15 points, then the next time the cats try they add their new group total to the old one. So if the second group total is 12, the overall group total is now 27 (15 + 12 = 27). That’s still not enough to succeed, but it’s getting close. They’ll almost certainly succeed on the third try.

What Happens Next: No matter what the results of the search are, the cats must first face the ravages of the fever. Continue with 5, but then come back here to see the final resolution.

If the cats succeed in finding the feverfew, continue with 19.

If the cats fail to find the feverfew, continue with 17.

21. Fight!

Read Aloud: “The badger launches itself straight at you, snorting and growling and baring its teeth. But as sharp and

dangerous as those teeth look, you know that the real danger is the badger’s claws!“

Narrator Tips: This is the big fight. Either the cats will win, or the adventure will end in tragedy for them and all the cats suffering through the fever back in the Clan territory.

The thing that makes the badger especially dangerous is that it’s a vicious fighter with incredible speed. In each Round of this fight, the badger may be able to attack twice. It always attacks first; then all of the cats attack. If any of the cats try to Swat or Wrestle with the badger and fail on their attack Checks, the badger gets to make a second attack at the end of the Round.

When the badger makes a Swat Check, the total is 7. If the badger hits, its Strength Check has a total of 8 when determining damage. When the cats attack, the badger’s Jump Check total is 7. Its Strength score, for determining how much damage the cats do, is 5. Once a fight starts, the badger will not quit until it is Knocked Out—it has a total of 15 chips that must be lost before this happens.

In most scenes, if one cat is Knocked Out, the whole team loses—even if they beat the enemy. Since this is the climax of the adventure, though, the group can still win even if one or two of their members are beaten. If half or more of the cats in the group are Knocked Out, though, then the whole team loses—there aren’t enough cats left to bring back sufficient amounts of feverfew. If, however, the badger is beaten and more than half the cats are still standing, the team wins.

What Happens Next: If the cats Knock Out the badger and less than half the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 20.

If half or more of the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 12.

22. Dog Fight

Read Aloud: “With a roaring bark, a large brown dog leaps from the back of one of the monsters.“

Narrator Tips: The cats have very few choices at this point. They can try to run up the hill and hope the dog doesn’t follow them, they can fight the dog, they can climb a tree, or they can retreat down the hill and hope the dog doesn’t follow them.

Up the Hill: This is the worst choice the cats can make. The dog will catch them and start a fight, but in the first Round, the target cat cannot make a Jump Check to avoid the dog’s bite—he or she is automatically hit—and none of the cats may make attacks. It is basically just a free bite for the dog.

Fight: Fighting the dog works the same as any fight (see Chapter Five of the game rules). In each Round, the dog goes first and will attack one cat. It is probably best to use a random method (like Evens & Odds or Rock, Paper, Scissors) to pick exactly which cat gets attacked, though a particularly brave cat can volunteer to get the dog’s attention. After that, all the cats get to go.

The dog does not Swat; it only Bites (and remember that Bites do extra damage). Its Bite Check has a total of 8. When the cats are attacking, the dog has a Jump Check total of 5. When it comes to inflicting or taking damage, the dog has a Strength score of 6.

The dog is really just a big bully. It’s happy to pick on the cats

as a mean kind of game, but if the cats actually hurt it too much, the dog will run away. If the cats manage to do 6 chips worth of damage to the dog, it will give a loud yelp and run away to hide in the back of the truck. The cats can then safely get away.

Climb: There are plenty of trees around to climb. If the cats just want to get away from the dog’s teeth, they only have to succeed at a Climb Check with a total of 4. Of course, once they’re up in the trees, there’s nowhere to go, and they have to make another Climb Check to stay balanced—if the Check fails, they have to come down out of the tree. If they have to or choose to come down, the cats will have to fight the dog.

Describe the situation like a scene in a scary movie. The dog is at the bottom of the tree, barking and howling. The cats are stuck in trees that are swaying dangerously in the breeze. Make the cats all attempt a total of 3 extra Climb Checks to see if they can keep from falling off their perches. If they do, the dog gets bored and goes back to the truck. Then the cats can come safely out of the trees and hopefully get away from the dog. They still have to make Sneak Checks (as described in scene 10) to get safely across the yard.

Down the Hill: The dog will not chase the cats down the hill. They can choose which alternate route they want to take.

What Happens Next: If the cats get away from the dog, continue with 5.

If any of the cats are Knocked Out, continue with 12.

If the cats retreat and prefer to go directly into the deep part of the woods, continue with 7.

If the cats retreat and prefer to take the route by the river instead, continue with 6.

If the cats retreat and prefer to go into the woods where the monster noises are coming from, continue with 4.

AFTER THE ADVENTURE

After the last scene of the adventure has been played, the game itself is not necessarily over. There still are a few things you can do if the players want to keep at it.

Play It Again

One of the great things about storytelling games is that you can always tell the story again. And, since so many of the events depend on Skill Checks, it won’t always go exactly the same way.

There may be parts of the adventure that the cats never got around to exploring (especially if they only tried one path up the hill). Playing again will let everyone see all the parts of the story and give other players the chance to try their hands at being the Narrator.

In particular, if the adventure ended badly, you and the players may want to try a second time. Maybe starting back at the beginning, or perhaps picking up somewhere in the middle where it feels like things went wrong.

Experience

If the cats completed the adventure successfully, then they all get Experience rewards. It is important to note, though, that each cat can only get experience from this adventure once! If you play through and successfully finish the adventure several times, your cat only gains the rewards listed below after the first time he or she completes the adventure.

If you use different cats each time, though, each one can get the experience rewards. The rule is not that a player can only get experience once, it’s that a cat can.

Age: Although the action in this adventure clearly all happens over the course of just a few days, the presumption is that this is the most interesting and exciting thing that happens to your cat during the whole of that moon. Increase your cat’s age by 1 moon and make any appropriate improvements described in Chapter Four of the game rules.

Skill: On top of the improvements your cat gets from aging, he or she also gains 1 level in one of the following Skills (your choice!): Focus, Ponder, See, Smell, Swim.

More adventures can be found at the back of each novel in the Omen of the Stars series, and you can find extra information at the warriorcats.com website.

Copyright

WARRIORS: OMEN OF THE STARS #1: THE FOURTH APPRENTICE. Copyright © 2009 by Working Partners Limited. Warriors Adventure Game © 2009 by Working Partners Limited. Series created by Working Partners Limited. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © October 2009 ISBN: 978-0-06-195474-0

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Omen of the Stars

Warriors

Fading Echoes

Erin Hunter

For the real Ivypaw, and all of FarDriving Clan

ALLEGIANCES

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER

FIRESTAR— ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt

DEPUTY

BRAMBLECLAW— dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

MEDICINE CAT

JAYFEATHER— gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS

(toms and she-cats without kits)

GRAYSTRIPE— long-haired gray tom

MILLIE— striped gray tabby she-cat

DUSTPELT— dark brown tabby tom

SANDSTORM— pale ginger she-cat with green eyes

BRACKENFUR— golden brown tabby tom

SORRELTAIL— tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes

CLOUDTAIL— long-haired white tom with blue eyes

BRIGHTHEART— white she-cat with ginger patches

THORNCLAW— golden brown tabby tom

SQUIRRELFLIGHT— dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

LEAFPOOL— light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes

SPIDERLEG— long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes

BIRCHFALL— light brown tabby tom

WHITEWING— white she-cat with green eyes

BERRYNOSE— cream-colored tom

HAZELTAIL— small gray-and-white she-cat

MOUSEWHISKER— gray-and-white tom

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

APPRENTICE, IVYPAW

LIONBLAZE— golden tabby tom with amber eyes

APPRENTICE, DOVEPAW

FOXLEAP— reddish tabby tom

ICECLOUD— white she-cat

TOADSTEP— black-and-white tom

ROSEPETAL— dark cream she-cat

BRIARLIGHT— dark brown she-cat

BLOSSOMFALL— tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

BUMBLEFLIGHT— very pale gray tom with black stripes

APPRENTICES

(more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

DOVEPAW— pale gray she-cat with blue eyes

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

QUEENS

(she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

FERNCLOUD— pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat with green eyes

DAISY— cream long-furred cat from the horseplace

POPPYFROST— tortoiseshell she-cat (mother to Cherrykit, a ginger she-cat, and Molekit, a brown-and-cream tom)

ELDERS

(former warriors and queens, now retired)

MOUSEFUR— small dusky brown she-cat

PURDY— plump tabby former loner with a gray muzzle

LONGTAIL— pale tabby tom with black stripes, retired early due to failing sight

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER

BLACKSTAR— large white tom with huge jet-black paws

DEPUTY

RUSSETFUR— dark ginger she-cat

MEDICINE CAT

LITTLECLOUD— very small tabby tom

APPRENTICE, FLAMETAIL (ginger tom)

WARRIORS

OAKFUR— small brown tom

APPRENTICE, FERRETPAW (cream-and-gray tom)

ROWANCLAW— ginger tom

SMOKEFOOT— black tom

TOADFOOT— dark brown tom

APPLEFUR— mottled brown she-cat

CROWFROST— black-and-white tom

RATSCAR— brown tom with long scar across his back

APPRENTICE, PINEPAW (black she-cat)

SNOWBIRD— pure-white she-cat

TAWNYPELT— tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICE, STARLINGPAW (ginger tom)

OLIVENOSE— tortoiseshell she-cat

OWLCLAW— light brown tabby tom

SHREWFOOT— gray she-cat with black feet

SCORCHFUR— dark gray tom

REDWILLOW— mottled brown-and-ginger tom

TIGERHEART— dark brown tabby tom

DAWNPELT— cream-furred she-cat

QUEENS

KINKFUR— tabby she-cat, with long fur that sticks out at all angles

IVYTAIL— black, white, and tortoiseshell she-cat

ELDERS

CEDARHEART— dark gray tom

TALLPOPPY— long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

SNAKETAIL— dark brown tom with tabby-striped tail

WHITEWATER— white she-cat with long fur, blind in one eye

WINDCLAN

LEADER

ONESTAR— brown tabby tom

DEPUTY

ASHFOOT— gray she-cat

MEDICINE CAT

KESTRELFLIGHT— mottled gray tom

WARRIORS

CROWFEATHER— dark gray tom

OWLWHISKER— light brown tabby tom

APPRENTICE, WHISKERPAW (light brown tom)

WHITETAIL— small white she-cat

NIGHTCLOUD— black she-cat

GORSETAIL— very pale gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

WEASELFUR— ginger tom with white paws

HARESPRING— brown-and-white tom

LEAFTAIL— dark tabby tom with amber eyes

ANTPELT— brown tom with one black ear

EMBERFOOT— gray tom with two dark paws

HEATHERTAIL— light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

APPRENTICE, FURZEPAW (gray-and-white she-cat)

BREEZEPELT— black tom with amber eyes

APPRENTICE, BOULDERPAW (large pale gray tom)

SEDGEWHISKER— light brown tabby she-cat

SWALLOWTAIL— dark gray she-cat

SUNSTRIKE— tortoiseshell she-cat with large white mark on her forehead

ELDERS

WEBFOOT— dark gray tabby tom

TORNEAR— tabby tom

RIVERCLAN

LEADER

LEOPARDSTAR— unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat

DEPUTY

MISTYFOOT— gray she-cat with blue eyes

MEDICINE CAT

MOTHWING— dappled golden she-cat

APPRENTICE, WILLOWSHINE (gray tabby she-cat)

WARRIORS

REEDWHISKER— black tom

APPRENTICE, HOLLOWPAW (dark brown tabby tom)

GRAYMIST— pale gray tabby she-cat

APPRENTICE, TROUTPAW (pale gray tabby she-cat)

MINTFUR— light gray tabby tom

ICEWING— white she-cat with blue eyes

MINNOWTAIL— dark gray she-cat

APPRENTICE, MOSSYPAW (brown-and-white she-cat)

PEBBLEFOOT— mottled gray tom

APPRENTICE, RUSHPAW (light brown tabby tom)

MALLOWNOSE— light brown tabby tom

ROBINWING— tortoiseshell-and-white tom

BEETLEWHISKER— brown-and-white tabby tom

PETALFUR— gray-and-white she-cat

GRASSPELT— light brown tom

QUEENS

DUSKFUR— brown tabby she-cat

MOSSPELT— tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

ELDERS

DAPPLENOSE— mottled gray she-cat

POUNCETAIL— ginger-and-white tom

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

SMOKY— muscular gray-and-white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace

FLOSS— small gray-and-white she-cat who lives at the horseplace

OTHER ANIMALS

MIDNIGHT— a star-gazing badger who lives by the sea

Map

PROLOGUE

Trees whispered, branch to branch, above the lifeless forest floor. Mist wreathed their smooth trunks, pale as bone, and swirled through the night-dark forest. Above their branches, the sky yawned, starless and cold. There was no moon to cast shadows, but an eerie light glowed through the trees.

Paws thudded on the dead earth. Two warriors reared on their hind legs and launched themselves at each other, their bodies heaving and twisting like ghosts in the gloom. One brown. One black. Wind rattled the trees as the brown tom, his broad shoulders heaving, aimed a vicious swipe at his lean opponent. The black tom dodged, not taking his gaze from his rival’s paws for a moment, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

The brown warrior’s strike missed and he landed heavily, too slow in turning to avoid a sharp nip from the black tom. Hissing, he reared again, twisted on one hind paw, and lunged, his forepaws falling like rocks on the black tom’s shoulders.

The tom collapsed under the weight of the blow. Breath huffed from his mouth as his chest slammed against the ground. The brown warrior raked thorn-sharp claws along his opponent’s pelt, and his nose twitched as blood welled in the wound, scarlet and salty.

Quick as a snake, the black tom slithered out from his rival’s grip and began to swipe rhythmically with his forepaws, swaying one way then the other until the brown warrior flinched back. In that flinch—a single moment of distraction—the black tom sprang forward and sank his teeth deep into the warrior’s foreleg.

The warrior yowled and shook the tom off, his eyes flaming with rage. A heartbeat passed as the cats stared at each other, both gazes glittering with calculation. Then the black tom ducked and twisted, raking his way under the brown warrior’s snow white belly. But the warrior pounced on him before he could scramble clear, hooking his pelt with long, curved claws and pinning him to the ground.

“Too slow,” the brown warrior growled.

The black tom struggled, panic flashing in his eyes as his rival’s jaws began to close around his throat.

“Enough.” A dark tabby stepped from the shadows, his massive paws stirring the mist.

The cats froze, then untangled themselves. The brown warrior sat back on his haunches, one foreleg raised as though it hurt. The black tom scrambled to his paws, spraying droplets of blood across the forest floor as he shook out his fur.

“Some good moves, Hawkfrost.” The dark tabby nodded to the broad-shouldered warrior; then his gaze flicked to the black tom. “You’re getting better, Breezepelt, but you’ll need to be even quicker if you’re going to outfight stronger warriors. If you can’t match an opponent in weight, look to speed instead and use his weight against him.”

Breezepelt dipped his head. “I’ll work on it, Tigerstar.”

A fourth tom slid from the shadows. His silver stripes gleamed in the half-light as he wound around Tigerstar. “Hawkfrost can match any warrior,” he purred, smooth as honey. “There aren’t many cats with such skill and strength.”

Tigerstar curled his lip. “Quiet, Darkstripe!” he hissed. “Hawkfrost knows his own strengths.”

Darkstripe blinked. “I wasn’t—”

Tigerstar cut him off. “And there’s always room for improvement.”

A fifth cat slid from behind a tree, his night-colored pelt ragged against the smooth gray bark. “Hawkfrost depends too much on his strength,” he muttered. “Breezepelt too much on his speed. Together they would make a great warrior. Separately they are vulnerable.”

“Brokenstar.” Hawkfrost greeted the matted tabby with bared teeth. “Are we supposed to take advice from the warrior who failed to silence Jayfeather?”

Brokenstar twitched the tip of his tail. “I did not expect StarClan to fight so hard to save him.”

“Never underestimate your enemy.” Hawkfrost stretched his forepaw, wincing.

Breezepelt licked the deep scratches along his flank, his tongue reddening with his own blood.

“We must be ready,” Tigerstar growled. “It’s not enough to be able to beat one enemy at a time. We must train until we can take on a whole patrol single-pawed.”

Breezepelt looked up from his wound, his eyes flashing. “I can already beat Harespring and Leaftail in training.”

Tigerstar’s eyes darkened. “Training is one thing. Warriors fight harder when they’re defending their lives.”

Breezepelt clawed the ground. “I can fight harder.”

Tigerstar nodded. “You have more reason than most.”

A growl rose in Breezepelt’s throat.

“You have been wronged,” Tigerstar meowed softly.

Breezepelt’s young face looked kitlike in the gloom. “You’re the only ones who seem to realize that.”

“I have told you that you must seek vengeance,” Tigerstar reminded him. “With our help, you can take revenge on every cat who has betrayed you.”

Breezepelt’s gaze grew hungry as the dark warrior went on.

“And on every cat who stood by and did nothing while others claimed what was yours as their own.”

“Starting with Crowfeather.” Breezepelt snarled his father’s name.

Brokenstar swished his crooked tail through the air. “What did your father do to defend you?” His words were laced with bitterness, as though soured by his own memories.

Darkstripe slunk forward. “He never valued you.”

Tigerstar shooed the striped warrior back with a flick of his tail. “He tried to crush you, make you weak.”

“He didn’t succeed,” Breezepelt spat.

“But he tried. Perhaps he valued his ThunderClan kits more. Those three kits should never have been born.” Tigerstar padded toward the young warrior, his eyes gleaming, holding Breezepelt’s gaze like a snake mesmerizing its prey. “You have been suckled on lies and the weakness of others. You have suffered while others have thrived. But you are strong. You will put things right. Your father betrayed his Clan and betrayed you. Leafpool betrayed StarClan by taking a mate.”

Breezepelt’s tail was lashing. “I will make them all pay for what they have done.” No heat fired his gaze, only cold hatred. “I will have vengeance on each and every one of them.”

Brokenstar pushed forward. “You are a noble warrior, Breezepelt. You cannot live a life spawned on lies. Loyalty to the warrior code runs too strong in your blood.”

“Not like those weaklings,” Breezepelt agreed.

Hawkfrost was on his paws. “More practice?” he suggested.

Tigerstar shook his head. “There is something else you must do.” He swung his broad head around to face the warrior.

Hawkfrost narrowed his eyes to icy slits. “What?”

“There’s another apprentice,” Tigerstar told him. “She has great power. She must join us to make the battle even.”

“You want me to visit her?” Menace edged Hawkfrost’s mew.

Tigerstar nodded. “Walk in her dreams. Teach her that our battle is her destiny.” He flicked the tip of his long, dark tail. “Go.”

As the broad-shouldered warrior turned away and padded into the mist, Tigerstar growled after him, “You should have no trouble. She is ready.”

CHAPTER 1

Dovepaw trembled in her sleep.

“Dovepaw! Dovepaw!” Voices wailed around her as she struggled in the current, dragging at her fur, swirling her through darkness. “Dovepaw!” The cries were jagged with fear. Trees and branches tumbled past her, sweeping away downstream. Darkness yawned below, stretching so far beneath her that horror caught in her throat.

“Dovepaw!” Rippletail’s desperate, lonely whimper rang in her ears.

With a start, she blinked open her eyes.

Her sister, Ivypaw, stirred beside her. “Were you dreaming?” The silver-and-white tabby raised her head and gazed anxiously at Dovepaw. “You were twitching like a mouse.”

“Bad dream.” Dovepaw fought to keep her mew steady. Her heart was pounding and Rippletail’s cry echoed in her mind. She stretched forward and licked Ivypaw’s head. “It’s gone now,” she lied.

As Ivypaw’s sleepy eyes began to close, Dovepaw breathed in the soft scent of her sister. I’m home, she reminded herself.

Everything’s okay. Yet her heart still pounded. She stretched in her nest, a shiver running to the tip of her tail, and clambered to her paws. Padding carefully between the nests, she headed out of the den.

Moonlight bathed the deserted clearing, and above the rock walls that encircled the camp, the horizon was milky with dawn light. The mewls of Poppyfrost’s newborn kits drifted from the nursery, and snores rumbled from the dens. The air felt strange, cool and wet on her muzzle. For many moons, Dovepaw had known nothing but the parched wind of drought, dry on her tongue. But now she could taste the green freshness of the forest, heady and mouthwatering.

Thin clouds drifted across the star-speckled sky, draping Silverpelt like cobwebs. She wondered if Rippletail was watching from among her starry ancestors.

I’m sorry. The words echoed in her mind like the lonely call of an owl.

Even though the long journey upstream was a quarter moon ago, the memory still ached in her muscles. Dovepaw had traveled with Lionblaze and two cats from each of the other Clans to track down the beavers that had blocked the stream and starved the lake of water. Together they had destroyed the dam and unleashed the torrent that had filled the lake once more. And now life was returning to the territories. She felt it in the rustling of the forest, heard it in the stirrings of prey beyond the edges of the camp.

Pride coursed through her. She had been the one to sense the beavers as they worked to block the stream. She had helped break their dam to pieces and now all the Clans would survive. But the memory was bittersweet, like yarrow on her tongue. The RiverClan warrior Rippletail had died fighting the large brown creatures, their heavy bodies stronger than foxes, their snapping yellow teeth deadlier than claws.

Memories of the journey had thronged in Dovepaw’s mind since she’d returned, and Rippletail’s death haunted her dreams. Did Lionblaze feel the same? She didn’t dare ask. Nor could she confide in Jayfeather about how much the journey still clung to her thoughts. They might think she was weak. She had a great destiny ahead of her.

How could she ever live up to the prophecy that had been given to Firestar many moons ago? There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

Dovepaw was one of the Three, along with Lionblaze and Jayfeather. The realization still shocked her. She’d been an apprentice less than a moon and now she carried more responsibility than a senior warrior on her shoulders. What could she do but hone the power she’d been given, the power that made her one of the Three? She practiced each day, reaching out with her senses as deep into the forest as she could, listening, tasting, feeling for sounds and movements even Jayfeather could not detect.

Dovepaw crouched outside the den, her pelt ruffling in the damp air, and closed her eyes. She let the sensation of earth beneath her paws slide away, reached beyond the sound of Poppyfrost’s kits fidgeting in the nursery, and let her senses roam. The forest trembled with life, filling her senses with smells and sounds: birds shaking out their feathers before they began their morning song, an early ShadowClan patrol padding sleepily out of camp, their paws clumsy on the slippery, needle-strewn ground. The sharp scent of catmint growing beside the abandoned Twoleg nest bathed her tongue. The sound of water chattering over the rock-cluttered stream on the WindClan border stirred her ear fur.

Wait!

Why were two cats slinking beside the lake at this time of day?

Anxiety pricked at Dovepaw’s pelt. She blinked open her eyes. She should tell someone. But how could she explain without giving away her secret power? Lionblaze? No. She couldn’t go to her mentor. He’d be asleep in the warriors’ den and it would be impossible to wake him without disturbing his denmates.

Jayfeather? Of course! He slept alone in the medicine den since Leafpool had joined the warriors. Dovepaw hurried across the clearing and pushed through the lichen that draped the entrance to the shadowy cave.

“Jayfeather!” She opened her eyes wide, trying to adjust to the gloom. Hurrying to his nest, she nudged him with her nose.

His gray tabby pelt was ruffled by sleep, his nose tucked tightly under his paw. “Go away,” he grumbled.

“It’s important,” Dovepaw hissed.

The medicine cat lifted his chin and blinked open his sightless blue eyes. “I was dreaming!” he snapped.

Dovepaw tensed. Had she disturbed a message from StarClan?

“I was about to catch a mouse.” Jayfeather held his paws a whisker apart. “It was this far away.”

Dovepaw stifled a purr. It was comforting to know that Jayfeather had regular mouse-chasing dreams like any other cat. “Sorry.”

“It’s not funny!” Jayfeather stood and shook out his fur.

Dovepaw ducked out of the way as he sprang from his nest and landed lightly beside her.

“What’s the matter?” Jayfeather licked a paw and drew it along his whiskers.

“Two cats are walking around the lake.”

Jayfeather let his paw drop and met her gaze. Dovepaw blinked. She still wasn’t used to the way Jayfeather acted like he could see even though he was blind.

“Are they heading for ThunderClan territory?”

Dovepaw nodded. She was relieved that he hadn’t asked her if she was sure. He just believed her. He trusted her completely. He had faith in her power. She really was one of the Three.

Jayfeather let out a long, thoughtful breath. “Do you know which Clan they’re from?”

Why hadn’t she checked that already? Dovepaw cast her senses out again, let them stretch back to the lakeshore and wreathe around the two cats still padding steadily onward. “RiverClan,” she breathed, tasting their fishy scent. She could make out the shade of their pelts: one dappled gold, one gray.

The dappled cat was smaller, a she-cat. “Mothwing.” The scent of herbs on the medicine cat’s pelt was strong.

The gray was a she-cat too, but larger, with the muscled shoulders of a seasoned warrior. “And Mistyfoot.” The RiverClan deputy.

Jayfeather nodded, his eyes clouding.

“What?” Dovepaw leaned closer.

“They’re grieving,” he murmured.

She recognized sadness in the slow, dragging steps of the RiverClan cats. But the sorrow sharpening Jayfeather’s mew told her that he could actually feel their grief as though it were his own. “What are they grieving for?”

“Leopardstar must be dead.” He sighed.

“Dead?” Dovepaw stiffened. “She’s lost all her lives?”

“She’d reached her ninth. It was just a matter of time.” Jayfeather got slowly to his paws and headed for the crack in the rock at the back of the medicine den. “Mistyfoot and Mothwing must be heading for the Moonpool,” he called over his shoulder. “So Mistyfoot can receive her nine lives.”

He disappeared into the cleft, his voice echoing from the shadows. “Now that we’re awake so early…”—reproach edged his mew—“we might as well make ourselves useful.”

Dovepaw hardly heard. Leopardstar, dead? She cast her senses far across the lake, reaching for the RiverClan camp. Images of the stricken Clan filled her mind. Cats circled restlessly around a body laid in the clearing, while others smoothed rosemary and watermint onto its spotted pelt in an attempt to hide the odor of death. A queen shooed her kits in a flurry of paws back toward the nursery.

Jayfeather emerged from the cleft carrying a bundle of herbs. “Mistyfoot will make a good leader,” he mewed, dropping the herbs and heading back to his store. “She’s fair and wise, and the other Clans respect her.” He returned with another large bundle of herbs and dropped it beside the first.

“Will Leopardstar hunt with StarClan now?”

“They will welcome such a noble warrior.” Jayfeather began to separate the leaves into smaller piles. The tang of them made Dovepaw’s nose wrinkle.

She dragged her attention back to the medicine den. “What are you doing?”

“We need to spread these herbs out to dry them.”

“But what should we do about Leopardstar?”

“Nothing.” Jayfeather pushed a clump of herbs toward her. “Rain got into the store and I don’t want them to rot,” he explained.

“Shouldn’t we tell Firestar?”

“Do you want to wake him?”

Dovepaw stared at her pile of leaves. She supposed it wouldn’t really make any difference if she waited till he was awake and out of his den.

Jayfeather was already expertly separating the leaves in his pile, laying them one by one out on the dry ground. Dovepaw began carefully peeling a wide, floppy leaf away from the clump. “Is it always the deputy who becomes leader?”

“So long as no other warrior believes they can lead the Clan better.”

Dovepaw stared at him in surprise, a leaf dangling from her paw. “Has that ever happened?”

Jayfeather nodded. “In WindClan, Onestar had to fight for his leadership.”

“Fight?” Dovepaw laid the leaf beside the others, trying to keep her paw steady. Could Clanmates really turn on one another like that?

“Mudclaw thought he’d make a better leader,” Jayfeather answered matter-of-factly. His line of drying leaves was already a tail-length long. Dovepaw tried to work faster.

“Careful!” Jayfeather warned. “If you rip them, they lose some of their healing juices.”

Dovepaw hesitated before she drew another leaf from the soggy pile. “Does it happen often?” Her belly churned. “I mean, Clanmates fighting to be leader.”

Jayfeather shook his head. “It’s rare. And if Mistyfoot is already on her way to the Moonpool, clearly no one’s challenged her.” He began to straighten the leaves Dovepaw had laid out. “Though there might have been a time when she would have been challenged.”

“When?” Dovepaw cast her senses back to the RiverClan camp, searching anxiously for any flicking tail or unsheathed claws that might suggest discontent. She found nothing, only the slow steps and drooping tails of a Clan in mourning.

“Hawkfrost.” Jayfeather half spat the name. “Mothwing’s brother.”

“Hawkfrost?” Dovepaw had heard the name in the stories that elders told about the days when the Clans first made their homes around the lake.

“He’s dead, thank StarClan.” Jayfeather didn’t look up from his work, though his paws slowed down as if memories distracted him.

“Have you seen him in StarClan?” Dovepaw asked.

“Hurry up.” Jayfeather ignored her question. “I want all these leaves laid out by the time the sun’s up, to give them enough time to dry.”

Has he seen Rippletail? she wondered, laying out a new leaf. The memory of the dead RiverClan warrior stabbed her heart.

Jayfeather padded away to the cleft and fetched a new bundle of damp leaves. “Was it Mistyfoot and Mothwing who woke you so early?”

Dovepaw looked up, blinking.

“Did they disturb your dreams?” he pressed.

Dovepaw shook her head. She didn’t want to share the dream that had broken her sleep.

“Were you dreaming of Rippletail?”

Dovepaw looked up sharply, as surprised by the gentleness in Jayfeather’s mew as she was by the question. Had he been there in her dream?

The medicine cat shook his head. “I didn’t walk in your dreams.”

Is he reading my thoughts right now? Dovepaw flinched away, but Jayfeather went on.

“I can tell that you’re troubled and I can feel your grief. It’s like a nettle in your heart, stinging any paw that tries to pluck it out.”

Dovepaw began peeling and laying out leaves as though it were the most important duty she’d ever had. She’d tried so hard to hide her feelings. What would he think of her now that he knew how soft she was? Would he be disappointed that she was one of the Three?

But Jayfeather carried on calmly separating the herbs. “You might feel as if you are responsible for his death, but you’re not,” he told her. “You have a destiny, but so does every other cat. Rippletail was always going to be part of the quest to unblock the stream. He was born with courage, and you couldn’t have succeeded without him. His death steered your path, helped you find another way to defeat the beavers. He died saving the lives of his Clanmates. StarClan led him to the battle that killed him, not you.”

Dovepaw stared deep into the medicine cat’s blue gaze. “Is that true?”

“It’s true.” He rolled a torn leaf into a tight knot and wrapped it in another. His mew grew brisk once more. “The fresh leaf’s juices will leach out and make the damaged leaf stronger,” he explained.

Dovepaw nodded without really hearing. Jayfeather had managed to touch the nettle in her heart and release its sting. For the first time since Rippletail’s death, she felt peace. Was it that simple? Should she just follow her own destiny and leave the rest to StarClan?

But one day she’d be stronger than StarClan. Lionblaze had promised her that. What then?

She sat back on her haunches. Sunshine was beginning to ripple through the trailing brambles at the cave entrance. Long lines of leaves lay drying in front of her. “Firestar will be awake by now. Should we tell him about Leopardstar?”

Jayfeather’s eyes flashed. “And how would you explain what you know?”

Dovepaw frowned. “Shouldn’t Firestar know about my power?” Firestar had assumed that she had learned about the beavers in a dream sent by StarClan, and Dovepaw had said nothing to change his mind. But how likely was it that she would dream about the death of another Clan’s leader?

“No.” Jayfeather plucked up a leaf, dark with the beginnings of rot, and flung it to the edge of the den. “Things are complicated enough.”

“Doesn’t he know about your powers?”

Jayfeather began to sweep dust away from the leaves with his tail. “He doesn’t even know we’re the Three.”

Worry dropped like a cold stone in Dovepaw’s belly. “Doesn’t know?” Why not? Why should they hide their powers if they were going to protect the future of the Clans? And the prophecy had come to Firestar first of all. “Surely StarClan wouldn’t have shared the prophecy with him if they hadn’t wanted him to know—”

Jayfeather cut her off. “You should join a patrol,” he mewed. “I’ll finish up here.”

She opened her mouth to argue but Jayfeather went on. “I can hear Brambleclaw coming out of his den. He won’t want to be kept waiting.”

Reluctantly, Dovepaw turned away. Jayfeather wasn’t going to give any more answers. As she nosed her way out of the medicine den, she saw Brambleclaw sitting beside the tumbled rocks leading to Highledge. Cinderheart was pacing in front of him while the other warriors emerged from their dens to hear their duties for the day. She saw the flash of surprise in the deputy’s eyes as she padded out of Jayfeather’s den.

“Are you okay?” Brambleclaw called.

Dovepaw forced her ears to stop twitching. “Just a bit of a bellyache,” she lied. “It’s better now.”

Brambleclaw nodded. “In that case you can join the patrol with me and Lionblaze.”

“Did someone say my name?” Lionblaze was emerging from the warriors’ den, yawning.

“You’re joining the dawn patrol,” Brambleclaw told him.

The golden warrior’s eyes brightened. Then he spotted Dovepaw and frowned, his gaze questioning. He could clearly sense that something was up. She gave a quick shake of her head.

The nursery rustled and Poppyfrost’s kits tumbled out with their mother padding behind them. The tortoiseshell queen was wearily shaking her head. “Why do kits have to wake up so early?” She steered Cherrykit and Molekit with her tail as they began to skip toward the warriors gathered by the rocks. “Stay out of the way,” she warned.

“But I want to hear Brambleclaw,” Cherrykit complained.

“We won’t disturb them,” Molekit promised.

Dovepaw stared blankly at the kits. The knowledge of Leopardstar’s death churned inside her while her Clanmates surrounded her, aware of nothing but the hunting patrols that lay ahead. She suddenly felt as though she were trapped behind a waterfall, separated from her Clanmates by the glistening torrent, her voice drowned by its thundering.

Ivypaw bounced up to her. “It’s so early!” she complained. But her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Doesn’t the forest smell great?” She took a deep breath and licked her lips. “The air tastes of prey.”

Brambleclaw nodded toward the silver-and-white apprentice. “Perhaps you and Cinderheart should join our border patrol.”

“Yes, please!” Ivypaw looked at her sister. “I bet I catch the first prey today,” she teased.

Cinderheart padded past them, flicking her tail. “We won’t be hunting until we’re sure the borders are safe,” she reminded her apprentice.

“Yes, but after that.” Ivypaw bounded after the gray tabby she-cat.

Dovepaw followed, catching up to Lionblaze at the thorn tunnel. Brambleclaw, Cinderheart, and Ivypaw were already filing out of the camp.

Should I tell Lionblaze about Leopardstar?

“Come on, Dovepaw!” Ivypaw was calling her.

No. I’ll tell him later.

She slid past her mentor and plunged after her sister into the still-dripping undergrowth. The rainstorms had left the forest soft and yielding, the earth springy underpaw and fragrant. The sun was beginning to warm the forest so that steam drifted up through the branches.

Newly fallen leaves littered the ground, some still green, shriveled by the recent drought and battered early from their branches by the torrential rain. Dovepaw kicked her way through them as she reached Ivypaw. Purring loudly, she flung a pawful over her sister’s back.

“Hey!” Ivypaw shook the leaves from her pelt and sent another bundle showering over Dovepaw. Then she turned tail and ran.

Dovepaw pelted after her sister as Ivypaw bounded onto a fallen tree, her claws scattering bark shreds that caught in Dovepaw’s whiskers. Leaping up beside Ivypaw, Dovepaw nudged her sister off balance and yowled with amusement as she watched Ivypaw wobble, then dive dramatically down the other side.

Ivypaw squeaked, staggering into a thick clump of ferns and disappearing behind the fronds.

“Ivypaw?” Dovepaw sniffed at the ferns, her tail stiffening as she detected no movement. “Are you okay?”

The ferns shivered and exploded as Ivypaw hurtled out and rolled Dovepaw onto her back. Triumphant, Ivypaw pinned her littermate to the ground. “Even Cherrykit wouldn’t fall for the play-dead trick!” she purred.

Dovepaw pushed with her hind paws, knocking Ivypaw away easily, aware of how strong she’d grown from the long journey to find the beavers. Ivypaw scrambled to her paws, scooting out of the way as Dovepaw leaped at her.

“Ha! Missed!” Ivypaw crowed before scrambling down the slope that led lakeward.

Dovepaw raced after her, bounding down to where the trees began to thin. She nearly bundled straight into Ivypaw, who had skidded to a halt.

“Wow!” The silver-and-white apprentice was staring open-mouthed at the lake.

The vast, dried-out lakebed, which had been dotted with shallow muddy pools where fish had huddled while the Clans paced jealously, had vanished.

Shining silver water rippled in its place, gleaming in the dawn sunshine. The lake was brimful, shivering beneath overhanging trees and bushes, lapping lazily at the shores. It heaved and swirled, and the taste of it bathed Dovepaw’s tongue, as fresh and rich with the promise of life as the damp forest.

“Come on!” Ivypaw was already dashing out from the trees.

Dovepaw gave chase, her paws slipping on the damp grass so that she nearly toppled over the short sandy bank at the top of the shore. Pebbles clacked as she landed at the water’s edge and sprinted after Ivypaw.

“I’ve never seen so much water!” Waves were lapping at Ivypaw’s claws.

Dovepaw hung back, remembering the torrent released from the beavers’ dam that had toppled trees, uprooted bushes, swirled like a storm around her as it carried her back to the forest. Then the water had been terrifying, a foaming beast roaring with fury at being pent up behind the dam for so long. Now the lake lay peacefully, like a plump silver tabby, curled beneath the blue sky.

“Where did all the water come from?” Ivypaw pressed. “The sky? The stream?”

Dovepaw cocked her head, listening. She could hear streams splashing and tumbling all around the lake, refreshed by the recent rains. “The streams are back,” she told Ivypaw. “Not just ours, but all of them, thanks to the rainstorms.”

“Good.” Ivypaw nodded. “I hope the lake never goes away again.” She bent her head to lap from the sparkling water, then leaped away as a tiny wave splashed her muzzle.

An angry yowl sounded from behind them. Dovepaw spun around and saw Brambleclaw bounding toward them, with Cinderheart and Lionblaze on his tail.

“This is a patrol, not an outing for kits!” he scolded. “The noise you’ve been making will have disturbed every piece of prey in the area. I don’t envy the hunting patrol!”

Dovepaw hung her head and followed Ivypaw as she slunk back up the bank and halted in front of Brambleclaw. “Sorry.” Her ears burned with shame.

“I know it’s exciting to have the lake back,” Lionblaze meowed with a hint of sympathy in his voice. “But you can play later.”

Brambleclaw’s gaze remained stern. “Have you re-marked the boundary here?” He swished his tail, indicating the scent line running three tail-lengths from the water’s edge. “Now that the lake’s full again, we need to reestablish old markers.”

“I’ll start now!” Ivypaw began to dart away. “Ow!” She skidded to a halt and lifted her paw, ears flat, eyes round with pain.

“What is it?” Cinderheart hurried to her apprentice and examined her paw.

Ivypaw winced and tried to snatch it away.

“Hold still,” Cinderheart ordered. Grasping the apprentice’s paw more tightly, she sniffed at the pad and began to pluck at the splinter with her teeth.

“Ow-ww!” Ivypaw yowled, still trying to wriggle away.

“Wait!” Cinderheart commanded through clenched teeth. “I’ve nearly got it.” Keeping a firm grip on Ivypaw’s paw, she gave one last tug and plucked out a ragged, bloody splinter.

“StarClan’s kits, that hurt!” Ivypaw hopped in a circle, cursing, then sucked at her pad.

Dovepaw weaved around her. “Are you all right?”

Ivypaw’s pelt gradually smoothed. She shook her paw, then inspected the small cut in the pad, oozing a tiny drop of blood. “That feels better.” She sighed.

Brambleclaw sniffed the splinter that Cinderheart had spat onto the ground, then glanced around the smooth grass at the top of the bank. His eyes darkened when he spotted the two halves of a broken stick buried in the long grass. “It must have come from that.”

Dovepaw recognized them at once. “I trod on that last time we were here.” She dragged one half out and laid it at Brambleclaw’s paws before dislodging the other half.

Lionblaze stared at the broken pieces with wide, startled eyes. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but Brambleclaw spoke first.

“Throw them in the lake,” the ThunderClan deputy ordered. “I don’t want any more cats injured.”

Dovepaw picked up one half and dragged it to a high part of the bank where the water lapped the sandy cliff. She tossed it as far as she could, enjoying the splash when it hit the surface, and returned for the second piece. But Ivypaw was already heaving it over the edge, flinging it into the deep water.

As the last part of the stick struck the waves, Dovepaw heard the agonized yowl of a cat in pain echoing through the trees. She froze, listening. Had another cat trodden on a splinter? She glanced back at her Clanmates, but they were calmly watching the two pieces of stick bob away from the bank. None of them had made a sound.

Dovepaw frowned. She cast her senses farther, ears pricked, listening, trying to tell which cat had howled in agony. A scent drifted to her on the damp breeze, tinged with the echo of pain.

Jayfeather!

She could hear his rough tongue scraping the fur on his flank. His movements were urgent, as though he was trying to find the source of the injury.

Fear brushed Dovepaw’s pelt. When Jayfeather let out that terrible wail, it had sounded as if someone had sunk a claw into his heart. Now Lionblaze was standing beside her, his body tense as he stared at the pieces of stick floating out toward the middle of the lake. Worry clouded his gaze and, for a reason she couldn’t explain, Dovepaw shivered.

CHAPTER 2

“Ouch!” Jayfeather staggered sideways as a pain, sharp as a hawk’s talon, stabbed his side. He licked at it furiously, anticipating the tang of blood. But his pelt was unharmed.

Puzzled, he sniffed the air, tasting the herbs laid out before him on the floor of the medicine cave. Reaching tentatively forward, he felt the space around him for any brambles.

Nothing.

Then what had stabbed him?

He must have imagined it. Maybe the death of Leopardstar had pierced the air as StarClan mourned. Maybe Mistyfoot’s naming ceremony had somehow touched him—the shock of new lives carried from her mind to his. He frowned. A change in a Clan’s leadership was an important event; perhaps it was inevitable that it would affect him somehow.

He padded along the row of herbs once more, the pain in his side easing to a dull ache. The leaves were drying nicely in the breeze that filtered through the brambles trailing at the den entrance, and there was enough sunshine striking into the hollow to warm the air. There was nothing left to do but wait. Enough time to check on Poppyfrost and her kits.

Springing over the leaves, Jayfeather pushed his way through the entrance, the brambles stroking satisfyingly over his spine as he headed out of the den.

Firestar was dozing on Highledge, his breath clouding in the cool morning air as he rested his chin over the edge of the jagged rock. Sandstorm lay beside him. Jayfeather could hear their fur brushing as their flanks gently rose and fell. They must have been night hunting again. Jayfeather knew that the ThunderClan leader and his mate sometimes liked to slip out of camp while their Clanmates slept and run through the woods. Images of their hunt filled Firestar’s dreams now, and Jayfeather sensed joy as the ThunderClan leader relished the freedom of the forest, his mate at his side, the worries of the Clan left behind at the barrier of thorns.

Jayfeather pulled his mind away, always uncomfortable at intruding on the thoughts of his Clanmates, though the temptation was never far away.

“Come on, Blossompaw!” Graystripe called to the apprentice. “You’re supposed to be helping, not playing.”

Blossompaw froze, her tail sweeping to a halt, leaves drifting from the stale-smelling bundle that she clutched between her paws.

“Ha!” Briarpaw’s pads brushed the earth as she skipped out of the way, and Jayfeather pictured the scene: Blossompaw had been about to send a shower of leaves over her littermate and had been caught in the act by Graystripe.

“Sorry.” Blossompaw swept her leaves toward Graystripe with her tail, and the gray warrior focused on his task once more; Jayfeather could hear his fur snagging against the prickles. “There are more holes in here than in a rabbit warren,” he fretted. “I want them stuffed with leaves before the wind turns cold.”

Berrynose was picking through the brambles on the other side of the nursery. “It’s just as bad over here,” he reported. The cream-colored tom began crunching pawfuls of leaves in between the branches. It was his kits, after all, who were in the nursery along with his mate, Poppyfrost.

Jayfeather was concentrating so hard on the two warriors working on the nursery walls that the flailing, fluffy bundle rolling into his paws made him jump.

“Sorry, Jayfeather!” Cherrykit scrambled back toward her mother, who was basking on the sandy earth outside the nursery.

“Watch where you’re going,” Poppyfrost chided.

“Jayfeather!” Molekit mewled. The tiny kit pattered toward him. “Watch what I can do!”

Jayfeather felt Poppyfrost tense at her kit’s tactless words; he flicked his tail to let her know he wasn’t offended. He liked the way kits didn’t trip over themselves trying not to say the wrong thing to him. “Show me,” he prompted Molekit.

A scuffle of paws and a sudden “Oof!” were followed by purrs of amusement from Cherrykit.

“That was the worst pounce I’ve ever seen,” Cherrykit squeaked.

“You do better, then!” Molekit challenged.

Jayfeather heard her short, stumpy tail brush the ground as she crouched and prepared for her jump. As she leaped forward, a falling leaf brushed her pelt. Her paws skidded clumsily as surprise flashed through her.

Molekit yowled with amusement. “Nice landing!”

“Shut up!” Cherrykit huffed.

“You’re scared of a leaf!”

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“Molekit!” Poppyfrost’s mew was stern. “Cherrykit’s your sister. You must encourage her, not tease! True warriors help their Clanmates.”

Molekit scuffed his paws on the ground. “Okay,” he muttered.

The nursery entrance trembled as Ferncloud slid out. Though she had no kits of her own, she preferred to stay in the nursery, along with Daisy, helping the queens as they came and went with the seasons. The two she-cats had helped raise so many kits that, these days, cats were as likely to see young apprentices visit the nursery for advice as the elders’ den. Especially now that Purdy had moved into the honeysuckle bush. Once the old loner started one of his stories, it could be sunset before a young cat got a word in edgewise.

“How are you feeling?” Jayfeather asked Poppyfrost. He sensed the queen’s weariness and felt a pang of sympathy. “The kits are doing well.” He could hear Molekit scampering after Cherrykit.

“Look out!” Graystripe warned, staggering on his hind paws as the kits raced past him.

Poppyfrost purred. Jayfeather stifled an urge to ask exactly what it was about squirming, querulous, hungry kits that made queens so forgiving of the exhaustion, the endless demands, and the squabbles that flared up with every second heartbeat.

“Are you eating and drinking plenty?” he checked.

“I’m fine,” Poppyfrost assured him.

He could smell moss soaked in water lying beside Poppyfrost. It carried Berrynose’s scent. Her mate was obviously making sure she had everything she needed. And judging from the contented aura swirling around the tortoiseshell queen, all the fears she’d had that Berrynose still pined for her sister, Honeyfern, had disappeared.

The memory of Honeyfern, killed by an adder, was still strong in the Clan. Jayfeather sensed it like a lingering scent. But life moved on and Berrynose seemed happy with his new mate. Indeed, the whole Clan seemed content, the camp buzzing with soft mews. It was almost as though the drought had never happened.

Leafpool and Squirrelflight padded through the camp entrance, the fragrant scent of prey clouding around them. Jayfeather snorted, fury rushing anew through his paws. Some things could never be forgotten. Or forgiven. The lies and betrayals that his mother and her littermate had woven around his and Lionblaze’s birth left a taste foul as crow-food in his mouth. If they hadn’t hidden the truth, conspiring like vixens, his sister, Hollyleaf, might never have disappeared behind the mudslide that blocked the tunnels.

Bitterness rose in Jayfeather’s throat. Despite what he and his littermates had been raised to believe, Crowfeather was their father, not Brambleclaw. And it was Leafpool who had kitted them. Squirrelflight had never been their mother.

Mother! As far as Jayfeather was concerned, he had no mother now.

The second hunting patrol returned just before sunhigh. Sorreltail, dozing below Highledge, scrambled to her paws as Cloudtail, Brightheart, and Whitewing dropped their catches on the fresh-kill pile. Thornclaw stretched beside her, purring hungrily at the scent of fresh prey.

But it was a different scent that brought Jayfeather from his den. He’d been half expecting it all morning, ever since Dovepaw had woken him with the news about Mistyfoot.

“RiverClan!” Ferncloud’s alarm set the whole camp stirring, and Firestar bounded down from Highledge as Mistyfoot padded through the thorn tunnel with Mothwing at her heels.

Jayfeather heard Ferncloud’s tail swish the earth as she shooed Molekit and Cherrykit back toward their mother. Hostility prickled from Thornclaw and Dustpelt. Graystripe stopped work on the nursery wall and dropped onto four paws, curiosity pulsing from his pelt.

Firestar crossed the clearing to greet the RiverClan cats. “Is everything all right?”

Mistyfoot halted. “Leopardstar’s dead.”

Jayfeather found himself caught in a flood of memories swirling through Firestar’s mind: a forest fire; a kit rescued from a river; mountains, snowcapped and scented with danger; courage and stubbornness flashing in Leopardstar’s amber gaze. Jayfeather caught his breath as the ThunderClan leader’s grief pierced his own heart.

Mothwing sighed. “We’ve just come from the Moonpool,” she murmured. “Mistystar has received her nine lives.”

Firestar’s whiskers brushed the ground as he dipped his head low. “Mistystar,” he greeted the new RiverClan leader.

“Mistystar,” Graystripe echoed the name respectfully.

“Mistystar, Mistystar.” The RiverClan leader’s new name rippled through the watching Clan. Hostility faded like the morning dew.

Firestar touched noses with the gray she-cat. “How’s RiverClan?” he asked.

“Greenleaf was harsh,” Mistystar admitted. “We rely too much on the lake to survive without it.”

Longtail padded stiffly from the elders’ den, his whiskers twitching with curiosity. Mousefur’s tail rested on his shoulder, guiding him forward as Mistystar went on.

“We lost three elders from thirst and hunger.”

Mousefur tensed. “Who?”

“Blackclaw, Voletooth, and Dawnflower.”

Jayfeather heard Mousefur’s pelt brush Longtail’s as the old she-cat pressed closer to her denmate.

Firestar sat beside Mistystar. “Take some strengthening herbs with you,” he offered.

“Thank you, we will, if you can spare them.”

Jayfeather wondered if Leopardstar would have accepted help so easily.

“Mothwing.” Firestar addressed the RiverClan medicine cat. “Go with Jayfeather. He’ll give you the herbs.”

Jayfeather beckoned Mothwing with his tail. He relished the chance to be alone with her, intrigued about how she had managed Mistystar’s naming ceremony when she didn’t believe in StarClan. He held aside the brambles at the entrance to the den, unable to resist probing Mothwing’s thoughts as she passed. But her mind was empty of everything except the ache in her paws.

“Rest there.” Jayfeather slipped into the medicine store and bundled together some of the newly dried leaves. Carrying the wad in his jaws, he placed it gently at her paws. “I can give you some ointment to soothe your pads,” he offered.

“No, thank you.” Mothwing shifted her weight. “It’s not much farther.”

“But the shore is stony.”

“I’ll treat my paws when I get home,” Mothwing insisted. “I’m already depriving you of enough supplies.”

“We can spare them.” But only just. The parched forest had yielded few herbs over greenleaf, and leaf-bare waited like a fox in the shadows.

“Longtail seems to be stiffer than ever,” Mothwing observed. “Have you tried crushing poppy seed and combining it with marigold and comfrey in a poultice?”

Jayfeather looked at her in surprise. Why had he never thought of that? The poppy seed would reduce the pain at once while the comfrey and marigold worked on the inflammation. “That’s a great idea!”

“It used to work on Voletooth’s shoulder.”

“Thanks.” He spread the herbs in front of her. “There’s tansy, watermint, and feverfew here.” His mind was fizzing with curiosity. How had she felt overseeing Mistystar’s receiving her nine lives? Did she finally believe in StarClan now that she’d seen it for herself?

As Mothwing bundled the herbs back into a wad she could carry in her jaws, Jayfeather gave his tail a casual flick. “How was Mistystar’s ceremony?”

“Fine,” Mothwing mewed levelly. “She’s going to be a great leader. Have you got a blade of grass I can tie this bundle with?”

The RiverClan medicine cat wasn’t giving anything away.

Jayfeather padded to the side of the cave and plucked a long stalk of grass poking from the base of the rock wall. As he carried it back to Mothwing, he took a deep breath and probed her recent memories.

Pale sunlight washed the Moonpool, reflecting the clear dawn sky. Jayfeather flinched at the bright images shimmering in Mothwing’s mind. He was used to the night shadows of the Moonpool. Mistystar must have been in a hurry to receive her nine lives.

Mothwing was watching Mistystar. Jayfeather could sense the grief and disquiet of the Clan they’d left behind as the RiverClan deputy crouched at the pool, her paws tucked beneath her, nose tip dabbing the water.

Jayfeather cocked his head. Mothwing’s sense of separation from her Clanmate felt strange. Her bond to her Clanmate was as strong as those Jayfeather felt for his own, and yet she was observing the ceremony like an outsider.

Mistystar suddenly flinched in her sleep with a cry of pain. Mothwing jumped, anxiety jabbing her. Does it hurt? The shocked thought echoed in her mind.

As Mistystar fell still once more, Mothwing fought the urge to creep forward and check that the RiverClan deputy was all right.

Was something real happening to her Clanmate?

No. Mothwing pushed away the thought.

Yes! Jayfeather willed her to accept it. How could she not believe? She was so stubborn. And yet Jayfeather was impressed by her determination.

They have not visited me; how can they be real? The thought burned like lightning in her mind.

Mistystar was stirring and Mothwing approached. “Are you all right?”

“You weren’t there!”

Mothwing stiffened; then calmness flooded her. The discovery of her secret seemed to bring her relief. “No.” She shook her head, meeting her leader’s gaze without guilt or worry. “You will always visit StarClan alone. They don’t exist for me in the way that they do for you.”

“You…you don’t believe in StarClan?” Mistystar’s pelt rippled with shock. “But you’ve been our medicine cat for so long! Have you never walked with StarClan in your dreams?”

Mothwing felt the stone, cool beneath her pads, weathered by countless moons. “You have your beliefs; I have mine. The cats you see in your dreams guide you and protect you in ways that I have lived without so far. I am a good medicine cat and that has been enough to serve my Clan.”

Mistystar gazed at her medicine cat a moment longer, then dipped her head.

Jayfeather blinked, darkness engulfing him once more as he slid out of Mothwing’s thoughts.

He could feel her gaze like a breeze stirring his pelt. She was watching him curiously; she had known all along that he was inside her memories, reliving the scene at the Moonpool. “You know I have no connection with them,” she reminded him. Her tail brushed the earth. “It doesn’t make me any less of a medicine cat.” She tied the grass around the bundle. “You need to understand that.” She picked up the herbs, her jaws releasing their fragrance as they closed softly around the leaves. Then she turned and padded from the den.

Jayfeather listened to the bramble swish behind her, his paws tingling. Even without StarClan to guide and strengthen her, Mothwing was formidable. Instinctively he dipped his head to her, just as Mistystar had done. StarClan had made a wise choice after all.

CHAPTER 3

Jayfeather looked up as the brambles at the entrance to his den swished.

Lionblaze poked his head through. “Mistystar and Mothwing have gone.”

Jayfeather could feel urgency rippling beneath the golden warrior’s pelt. “What’s wrong?”

Lionblaze hesitated.

“Let’s go into the forest,” Jayfeather suggested.

In answer, Lionblaze turned and headed for the camp entrance. Jayfeather let the thoughts and feelings of his Clanmates flood his mind for a moment, searching for any signs of need. All was well. Satisfied, he followed his brother out of the camp.

Lionblaze was already pounding through the trees toward the lake. As Jayfeather caught up to him, the scent of the water bathed his tongue.

“I can see RiverClan fishing,” Lionblaze told him.

A cool, damp breeze rushed through the trees, sending leaves showering onto their pelts. The lake rippled and splashed below.

“So, what’s up?” Jayfeather broached the question.

Before Lionblaze could answer, bushes farther along the shore crackled, and Briarpaw and Bumblepaw came crashing out of the undergrowth, dragging a fat rabbit between them.

They halted and Jayfeather could feel the happiness pulsing from their pelts. Graystripe and Millie’s kits were growing fast. They’d be warriors come leaf-bare.

“Impressive catch,” Lionblaze praised. “Where’d you find it?”

“It was grazing by the stream.” Bumblepaw was out of breath.

“It was me who caught it,” Briarpaw boasted.

“Only because I blocked its escape.” Bumblepaw’s purr rumbled deep in his throat.

“You just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Briarpaw retorted.

The leaves rustled on the forest floor as the littermates fell into a mock fight, tumbling between the slender trees. Jayfeather could sense the strength beneath their pelts. Their minds were filled with green flashes from running through the woods, a mixture of prey-scent and falling leaves and their own fearless pride. A sudden, fierce gladness caught him. ThunderClan was lucky to have cats like these.

“They’ll make great warriors,” Lionblaze whispered, echoing Jayfeather’s thoughts.

“Yes,” Jayfeather agreed, remembering the long, anxious days he’d nursed Briarpaw and Millie through a severe bout of greencough.

“You shouldn’t leave prey unattended!” Lionblaze called to the two young cats. “Some warrior might claim it for his own.”

The apprentices scrambled back to them, panting.

“Paws off!” Bumblepaw warned good-naturedly.

“Hey!” Blossompaw’s petulant mew sounded through the trees and the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat bounded out from the undergrowth. “I thought you were going to wait for me! Now everyone will think you caught the rabbit without me.”

“We waited for ages,” Bumblepaw objected. “We thought you’d gone back to camp without us.”

Blossompaw sat down. “Why would I do that?”

“So you can moon over Toadstep some more?” Briarpaw teased.

“I do not moon over Toadstep!” Blossompaw snapped. “Why are you being mean?”

“Why are you being grumpy?” Bumblepaw didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s take this rabbit to the camp. Mousewhisker is expecting me back for training.” He began dragging the rabbit through the trees. Briarpaw hurried after him, her paws skidding on the leaves as she caught hold of the fresh-kill.

Blossompaw stomped after them, complaining, “You’re leaving me behind again!”

Lionblaze stirred the leaves with one paw. “Did we fight that much?”

Jayfeather felt a prick of grief, remembering the games they’d played with Hollyleaf as kits and then as ’paws. “I guess.” The breeze tugged his fur.

He could sense words on the tip of Lionblaze’s tongue, hesitancy on his breath. At last the golden warrior spoke. “Ivypaw stepped on a broken stick earlier.”

Jayfeather nodded. “I put ointment on her wound.” He suddenly knew what was coming next. Ivypaw hadn’t told him that her injury had come from a stick; he might have guessed Lionblaze’s news earlier if she had.

“It was your stick, wasn’t it?”

Jayfeather could feel Lionblaze’s gaze prick his pelt, sharp with worry.

“Did you break it?” Lionblaze asked softly.

“Yes.” Guilt surged in Jayfeather’s belly. He’d had so many questions about the prophecy—he still did—but Rock would not answer him. And when the ancient cat had ignored his pleas, frustration had driven Jayfeather to fury and he’d broken the stick. With a shiver, he remembered the crack of the wood when it splintered. The scratches were destroyed forever, all connection with the cats from the past gone. The memory nearly choked him.

“Why?” Lionblaze sounded confused.

Jayfeather’s pelt seemed to crawl with invisible lice. He had destroyed something sacred, something he didn’t fully understand. Why? He wished with all his heart he hadn’t broken the stick. “I-I…” How could he explain?

“I never understood why the stick was so important to you.” Lionblaze’s voice was distant; he was staring out over the lake once more. “But I know you used to go to it when you were worried or troubled.” His fur brushed Jayfeather’s as he leaned closer. “Was it a sign from StarClan?”

If only it were that simple. “There was a time before StarClan,” Jayfeather ventured.

Lionblaze’s fur sparked with surprise. “Before?”

“The stick came from then.” Would Lionblaze understand? “The cats who lived here used to become sharpclaws by finding their way through the tunnels….”

Lionblaze halted him midflow. “Sharpclaws?”

“Like warriors.”

“Were they a Clan?”

Jayfeather frowned. “Not a Clan. Not then.”

“But they had warriors?” He paced around Jayfeather.

“Sharpclaws,” Jayfeather corrected.

“What did the stick have to do with them?”

“There were marks on the stick. The marks were a record of the cats who made it out of the tunnels alive and those who didn’t.” Lionblaze had to understand that. They had all been in the tunnels as apprentices—Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf—when floods had swept underground. They all would have drowned if Fallen Leaves, one of the ancient cats, hadn’t shown Jayfeather the way out.

Lionblaze stopped pacing and shuddered. “Cats died trying to become warriors?”

Jayfeather nodded.

“And these cats were here before us?”

“Yes.”

“Do they still live here?”

“No.” Though I’ve met them. But Jayfeather wasn’t about to try to explain how he’d lived with those ancient cats, shared their food and their words, traveled back through time to learn their story, to help them leave in search of a new home. “I think some of them went to live in the mountains.”

“Like the Tribe of Rushing Water?”

“I think they became the Tribe of Rushing Water.”

Lionblaze’s mind was whirling so fast Jayfeather had to block out the thoughts tumbling from his brother.

“How did you know what the stick meant?” Lionblaze asked finally.

“I felt it at first, and then I met Rock.” He hurried on before Lionblaze could interrupt. “Rock lived in the tunnels a long time ago. His spirit lives there still, right beneath our territory.”

Lionblaze halted, his paws and his mind suddenly still. What was he thinking? Does he believe me?

Tentatively, Jayfeather probed his brother’s thoughts. He didn’t like to pry in the minds of cats close to him. It felt unfair. And there were some things he didn’t want to know. But right now, Jayfeather needed to know what Lionblaze was thinking. After all, his brother had his own associations with the tunnels underground. How did he feel, knowing that the caves were not as empty as they appeared?

Lionblaze was remembering Heathertail. He was standing in a cavern split by an underground stream and lit by a trickle of gray moonlight. Watching through his brother’s eyes, Jayfeather glanced up at the ledge where he’d first seen Rock.

Rock wasn’t there. But Heathertail was, watching Lionblaze with blue eyes filled with affection. “I am leader of DarkClan!” she announced.

Jayfeather felt a stab of grief pass through Lionblaze, then sensed Lionblaze shove it angrily away.

Lionblaze’s memories held no image of Rock, yet Jayfeather could sense the ancient cat’s presence in the cavern. Furless, ugly, and blind, he kept very still as the young cats played: not judging, hardly interested, just waiting, as though the outcome were inevitable.

“Stop that!” Lionblaze hissed. He must have guessed Jayfeather was walking through his memories.

Jayfeather snapped back to the present. “Sorry.”

“Heathertail and I never saw any other cats down there,” Lionblaze told him. “It was just us.”

“They left long ago.”

“Then why keep the scratched branch?” Lionblaze leaned closer. “Why break it?”

Jayfeather turned away, unable to describe the rage that had made him smash the stick. The prophecy had churned in his mind for so long; he had to know what it meant. What were their powers for? Why had the Three been chosen? What was their destiny? Rock knew the answers. Jayfeather sensed it in the very core of his heart. Yet Rock had chosen to stay silent.

Jayfeather swallowed back the frustration that had driven him to smash the stick. Anger hadn’t worked then; it wouldn’t work now.

“Why did you break it?” Lionblaze asked again.

Jayfeather stood up and shook out his fur. “We need to worry about what’s happening now, not what happened in the past. If we’re more powerful than the stars, then no cat can help us. We have to figure it out for ourselves.”

“We haven’t had much luck so far.” Lionblaze padded forward to the very edge of the crest. Jayfeather followed him, the wind from the lake whisking through his ear fur so roughly that he could hardly hear Lionblaze’s next words.

“Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Like what?” Jayfeather raised his voice.

“Go and look for something. Try to find out what we’re supposed to do.” Lionblaze’s mew grew louder as he turned to face him. “Instead of just waiting for things to happen.”

Jayfeather shrugged. He didn’t know the answer. He’d shared tongues with StarClan and with ancient cats and still he was no closer to understanding anything.

Lionblaze snorted and turned away. “I’m going back to camp.”

Jayfeather stayed where he was, breathing the scent of the lake. An image of the stick swirled through his thoughts, its two shattered pieces drifting farther apart on the restless surface of the lake and then disappearing beneath the waves, sinking deeper and deeper, vanishing into the blackness.

CHAPTER 4

“No, no!” Lionblaze called to his apprentice. “If you climb up this side of the trunk I’ll see you and know you’re up there!”

Dovepaw slithered down the bark. The oak tree was shiny with rain. Drizzle had been soaking the forest all morning, the rainclouds so low that they seemed to drag over the treetops.

“Are you sure this is the right weather for a tree-fighting session?” Cinderheart queried. She was sitting beside her apprentice, Ivypaw. Both cats looked small, their fur plastered to their pelts.

“It’s the best weather,” Lionblaze insisted. “If they can cling to the branches when they’re slippery, they’ll find it mouse-easy when it’s dry.”

ThunderClan cats were the best climbers among the Clans because they hunted their prey among densely growing, thick-leaved trees; Firestar had recently decided that it was foolish not to take advantage of that skill in battle. From now on, all battle training would include tree-climbing practice, as well as techniques for attacking from among branches.

“Now climb up again,” he instructed Dovepaw. “Imagine I’m a ShadowClan patrol.”

Ivypaw’s whiskers twitched. “A whole one?”

“Concentrate!” Lionblaze was in no mood for silliness. He was hungry and wet and frustrated. What did training apprentices have to do with fulfilling the prophecy? Wait, Jayfeather had said. But Lionblaze was tired of waiting.

Cinderheart flashed Lionblaze a puzzled look. “I’ll guide them up the tree and tell them what to do,” she offered.

Lionblaze hesitated. He didn’t like the thought of Cinderheart climbing trees after the accident that had nearly crippled her as an apprentice.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll be careful!” She nosed Ivypaw toward the trunk of the oak and watched her scoot up to the lowest branch. Then she nodded to Dovepaw. “You next.”

Dovepaw darted behind the trunk. She reappeared a few moments later on a branch above his head. “Didn’t see me that time!” she called.

He looked up, surprised by her speed. “Very good.”

Cinderheart was scrambling after them. “This is an excellent branch for dropping from.” She peered down at Lionblaze. “If you land squarely on his shoulders, he’ll break your fall, and the surprise will give you long enough to get in a few good moves before he realizes what’s happened.”

“Can I try it?” Ivypaw mewed eagerly.

“I doubt if he’d be very surprised,” Dovepaw pointed out. “He’s staring straight at us.”

“Let’s try climbing onto the next branch,” Cinderheart suggested.

“I’ll wander around,” Lionblaze offered.

“Concentrate on where your paws go,” Cinderheart warned the apprentices. Leaves rustled over Lionblaze’s head. “The bark’s slippery. Use your claws to grip. Watch out!”

Too late. Ivypaw slipped from the branch with a yowl of surprise and plunged down straight onto Lionblaze.

He staggered, hoping his broad shoulders had broken her fall. “Are you okay?”

She scrambled off him and jumped to her paws. “Sorry!”

The shock on her face brought a purr to his throat, banishing his frustration. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be surprised, not you!” he teased.

Pelt ruffling with embarrassment, Ivypaw scrabbled back up the tree.

“Careful, Dovepaw!” Cinderheart warned. “That branch is too narrow. It won’t hold your weight!”

Wood cracked high overhead.

Heart lurching, Lionblaze looked up. “Dovepaw!”

The gray apprentice was gripping a thin, broken branch halfway up the tree. “I can’t hang on!” she wailed. Her paws were sliding down the narrow strip of wood.

“Try to land on the branch below!” Cinderheart called up to her as Dovepaw reached the tip of the branch and tumbled down onto the next. She scrabbled for a grip, yelping as she fell again.

“Keep your claws out!” Lionblaze yowled.

“I am!” Dovepaw cried as she slid from branch to branch like a pebble bouncing down a slope. “I can’t get a grip.”

Lionblaze relaxed. The branches slowed Dovepaw’s fall until she plopped out of the tree like a pigeon landing clumsily. She stood up and fluffed out her fur.

Lionblaze shook his head. “When Jayfeather told me it was going to rain today, he didn’t warn me it was going to rain cats!”

Dovepaw brightened as she saw the glimmer of amusement in his eye. “I’ll do better this time,” she promised, dashing back to climb the tree once more.

Lionblaze padded away through the trees. He could hear the leaves rustling overhead as Cinderheart guided them from one branch to another.

While he was waiting for their “surprise” attack, he decided to hunt. With leaf-fall setting in, any extra prey would be welcomed in camp. He sniffed among the rain-soaked roots of the oak. Fresh squirrel dung made him wrinkle his nose. He climbed silently around the wide trunk, moving snakelike over the roots twining from the ground. The scent dipped between them and ran a few tail-lengths along a dried streambed fracturing the forest floor.

Lionblaze froze.

Rooting beneath the oak’s dripping branches was a fat gray squirrel. Its back was toward him and it was so intent on nibbling a nut that it didn’t even pause to sniff the air as Lionblaze dropped into a hunting crouch.

Whiskers stiff, tail just skimming the leafy ground, Lionblaze crept closer. A tail-length away he paused, waggled his hindquarters, and pounced. The squirrel struggled in his paws for a moment until he snapped its spine with a fast, clean bite. Pleased, he sat up with the fresh-kill hanging from his jaws.

A swish sounded above him. He looked up, his mouth full of squirrel fur. Two shapes dropped, landing one after another on his shoulders. He spat out the squirrel as his legs collapsed beneath him.

“We did it!” Dovepaw’s triumphant mew sounded close to his ear.

Lionblaze shook her off, letting Ivypaw slither from his back. “Deafening the enemy,” he meowed, his ears ringing. “Great strategy!”

Cinderheart scrambled down the trunk, looking pleased. “You didn’t have a clue we were up there, did you?” She glanced at the squirrel lying at his paws. “Nice catch, by the way.”

“Can we try it again?” Ivypaw begged.

“Why not?” Cinderheart flicked her tail back toward the trunk. “Up you go.”

Ivypaw leaped for the tree, but Dovepaw had stiffened and was staring, ears pricked, into the trees.

She’s heard something! Lionblaze could see anxiety darkening his apprentice’s eyes.

“You climb with Ivypaw,” he told Cinderheart quickly. “There’s a hunting technique I’ve been meaning to show Dovepaw.”

“Can I learn it too?” Ivypaw called.

“One at a time is easier,” Lionblaze lied. “I’ll show you another time.”

Ivypaw shrugged. “Okay.” She leaped up the trunk and disappeared into the branches with Cinderheart.

Beckoning with his tail, Lionblaze guided Dovepaw away from the oak. “What did you hear?” he demanded once he was sure they were out of earshot.

“Dogs!”

The fur rose along Lionblaze’s spine. “In the forest?”

Dovepaw shook her head. “In WindClan territory.”

“That’s okay. Twolegs use dogs to chase sheep up there,” Lionblaze explained.

But Dovepaw’s eyes were still round. “They’re not chasing sheep; they’re chasing cats.” She stared in alarm at Lionblaze. “We have to help them.”

“No.” Lionblaze was firm. “WindClan cats are used to it. Don’t forget they can outrun rabbits if they want. They’ll be fine.”

“But Sedgewhisker is one of the cats being chased!” She froze, her eyes suddenly wild. “One of the dogs has caught up to her! It’s biting her!”

Lionblaze stiffened. “Where are her Clanmates?”

Dovepaw frowned. “They’re with her….” She spoke slowly, describing the scene as it happened. “They’re attacking the dog.”

Lionblaze let out a sigh of relief. “Then Sedgewhisker will be safe.”

“How do you know that?” Dovepaw hissed.

Lionblaze’s heart sank. He’d been waiting for something like this to happen. Dovepaw was clinging to the friendships they’d made on the long journey; Sedgewhisker had traveled with them to destroy the beavers’ dam. Dovepaw had to understand that they were back in their own territories now. “We’re home,” he told her. “Your loyalty lies with your own Clan. You can’t be as close to Sedgewhisker or the others as you were before.”

Dovepaw stared at him. “Why not?”

“Because the warrior code tells us we shouldn’t make friends outside our Clan.”

Her blue eyes flashed. “How can you be so cold?”

“I’m not being cold!” Lionblaze insisted. “Things have changed.”

“I haven’t changed,” Dovepaw snapped. “I’m the same cat I was on the journey upstream.” She kneaded the ground with her front paws. “What’s the use of knowing what’s happening far away if I can’t do something about it?”

“Maybe you should figure out how to limit your senses to ThunderClan territory,” he suggested.

Dovepaw looked at him as though he’d grown another head. “The prophecy is bigger than the warrior code, right?”

Lionblaze nodded, wary of where she was heading.

“So my powers aren’t just for ThunderClan’s benefit, are they?”

“We’re ThunderClan cats,” he reminded her. “That’s where our loyalties should lie.”

Dovepaw glared at him. “So am I loyal to the prophecy, or the warrior code?” The fur fluffed around her ears. “You and Jayfeather had better make your minds up before I decide myself.” Without waiting for an answer, she pelted back to the oak and disappeared up the trunk after Cinderheart and Ivypaw.

Lionblaze watched her go, his heart sinking. He was only just beginning to understand Jayfeather’s abilities; now he was faced with another cat whose powers were beyond anything he could imagine. Stretching his ears, he strained to listen as hard as he could, but all he could hear was rain pattering on the dying leaves.

Ivypaw’s mew sounded from high in the oak. “This branch keeps bobbing in the wind.”

“Just hang on tight,” Cinderheart advised.

“It’s making me feel sick!”

Lionblaze’s own power was far simpler. He could fight in battles, unscathed, fearless and stronger than any opponent. Did that seem strange and frightening to his Clanmates? He knew Hollyleaf had always felt uncomfortable about his readiness to fight, as though she didn’t quite believe he wouldn’t get hurt.

But then, she had no power of her own. She was never one of the Three.

And he had been hurt once. Tigerstar had drawn blood in their last dream encounter. Lionblaze glanced behind him, the fur lifting on his shoulders. Was the dark warrior watching him now? Ferns swished beside him and he swung around, uncurling his claws.

“Sorreltail!” He couldn’t hide the relief in his voice. “Are you looking for Cinderheart?”

Sorreltail shook her head. “I’m joining Graystripe’s hunting patrol. Jayfeather just told me that my shoulder’s healed.” The tortoiseshell warrior had wrenched it a few days earlier when her paw had caught in a rabbit hole. “Is Cinderheart with you?” She followed Lionblaze’s gaze up to watch her daughter beckoning Ivypaw farther out along a branch. Cinderheart was balancing skillfully as the branch swayed beneath her paws.

Pride glowed in Sorreltail’s eyes. “I never thought I’d see the day when she’d be strong enough to climb trees like a squirrel.” She sighed gently and watched a moment longer before pulling her gaze away. “Leafpool healed her so well. She was a wonderful medicine cat.”

There was an edge to her mew. Did she blame Lionblaze for Leafpool’s decision to leave the medicine den and become a warrior? His pelt itched. It wasn’t his fault Leafpool had thrown everything away by breaking the warrior code! She was the one who’d had kits with a cat from another Clan and then lied about them!

He held his tongue as Sorreltail headed away; then, remembering Sedgewhisker, he called hopefully, “Where are you hunting?”

“By the WindClan border.”

Good. If the WindClan cats were really in trouble, the hunting patrol would notice; Graystripe could decide whether to help them or not.

As Sorreltail disappeared through a dripping wall of fern, Lionblaze scraped dirt over his catch and padded to the bottom of the oak. “How are you doing?” he called to his Clanmates.

“They’re doing very well.” Cinderheart landed lightly beside him, Ivypaw and Dovepaw dropping down after her. “I think we can try something harder.”

Ivypaw pricked her ears.

“Let’s teach them to cross from one tree to another,” Cinderheart suggested.

“Like squirrels!” Ivypaw squeaked.

“Yes, like squirrels.”

Lionblaze’s tail drooped. He wasn’t a natural climber. “We could teach them battle moves instead,” he suggested hopefully. “There are plenty they don’t know yet.”

“Firestar wants us to practice tree hopping,” Cinderheart reminded him.

We’re cats, not birds! Lionblaze always felt big and clumsy in trees. He’d rather be on the ground, fighting. Why sit up in the branches like a bunch of owls, watching the enemy, rather than tackling them head-on like warriors?

“Come on. Let’s start in this maple.” Cinderheart flashed him a determined glance. She knew he didn’t like tree climbing. “In the old territory, Longtail swears he once crossed from the Great Sycamore to camp without touching the forest floor.”

“How far was that?” Dovepaw sounded impressed.

“About the same as from here to the hollow,” Cinderheart meowed.

Lionblaze snorted. How do you know? Cinderheart had been born by the lake, like him. She had never seen the old territory!

“I bet I could do that,” Ivypaw boasted. She swarmed up the trunk of the maple, eyes half closed against the rain dripping down through the branches. Cinderheart followed, Dovepaw on her tail.

Lionblaze stared up, wishing that the rain would stop. It was going to be hard enough without slippery bark. Sighing, he heaved himself up the trunk, digging his claws deep into the bark to stop himself from sliding down.

Cinderheart was waiting on the lowest branch, while Ivypaw and Dovepaw were already halfway to the end.

“We won’t even have to jump this one,” Dovepaw reported over her shoulder. The branch wove into the lowest branches of a neighboring willow.

“Perhaps we should take a different route,” Lionblaze called to her. The willow had slender branches. “That might not take our weight.”

“Your weight, you mean!” There was a sharpness in Dovepaw’s reply. She was still angry with him for not helping Sedgewhisker. Lionblaze let it pass, though irritation pricked his pads.

Cinderheart nodded toward the willow. “It’s an old tree.” Dovepaw and Ivypaw had already crossed into its branches. “It’ll be strong enough.”

She was right. Lionblaze padded through its boughs easily, relieved to find them wide and sturdy. “Slow down!” he called. Dovepaw and Ivypaw were rushing on ahead, as though each wanted to be first to make it back to camp without touching the forest floor.

Dovepaw was balancing at the tip of the willow’s longest branch. An ancient oak sprouted beyond it, gnarled and twisted with age. “I’m going to try this one,” she mewed over her shoulder.

“The bark’s very rough,” Lionblaze warned. “It looks old. There may be cracks in the branches you can’t see.” He quickened his pace, leaping past Cinderheart. “Wait until I’ve checked it!”

Too late!

Dovepaw was already leaping onto a branch of the oak. It cracked as she landed, snapping like a dry twig, and, with a yelp, she plummeted downward.

It was only three tail-lengths to the soft forest floor and she landed on her paws. But Lionblaze knew what was coming next.

“Look out!” He leaped from the willow, skidding across the forest floor and grabbing Dovepaw by the scruff.

“What?” she squawked as he dragged her backward. A moment later the ancient oak branch came crashing down.

Lionblaze screwed up his eyes, shielding Dovepaw with his body. When the branch had stopped rocking he turned on her angrily.

“However much you think you know, sometimes I’m right, okay?” he growled.

Dovepaw lifted her nose and sniffed. Then she turned and stalked away.

CHAPTER 5

Dovepaw stretched her aching legs. Her nest rustled as she fidgeted. Her denmates were fast asleep. They’d dozed off by the time the moon had risen above the hollow, tired after their training.

But Dovepaw felt wide-awake. She’d seen Sedgewhisker limping back to camp, supported by her Clanmates. She could smell the blood crusting over Sedgewhisker’s wound, feel the heat pulsing from her swollen leg. She needed to know how badly injured her WindClan friend was!

“Are you okay?” Ivypaw peered over the rim of her nest. Her eyes were round with worry. “Did the fall hurt you?”

“No,” Dovepaw answered honestly. Only her pride had been hurt. Lionblaze was so bossy! And now he was trying to tell her how to use her power. He should respect her, like Jayfeather did, not treat her like some dumb apprentice.

Ivypaw sat up. “You’re not tired at all?”

Dovepaw flicked her tail. “No.”

“Come on.” Ivypaw stepped from her nest. Blossompaw was snoring again. “Let’s go into the forest.”

Dovepaw’s heart gave a jolt as hope flashed through it. She sat up. What was Ivypaw planning?

Briarpaw rolled onto her back, her paws folded in the air like a rabbit’s.

“We haven’t been out at night since you went to find the beavers.” Ivypaw tiptoed to the entrance and slid out. The low branches of the yew den slicked Dovepaw’s fur as she followed eagerly. The starlit clearing glowed like a pool in the center of the shadowy hollow. Dovepaw could smell the forest above, musty with the scent of leaf-fall, damp with night dew.

She cast her senses out past the thorn barrier and scented Rosepetal guarding the camp entrance, her paws shifting on the ground, her breath coming in billows.

“I know a secret way out,” she told Ivypaw.

“Through the dirtplace tunnel?” Ivypaw guessed.

“Better than that.” Dovepaw crept around the edge of the clearing, past the entrance to the medicine den. She squeezed through the tangle of brambles beside it until she reached the rock wall beyond. Stretching up through the twisted stems, she reached for a low ledge and hauled herself up.

“Are you coming?” she hissed down to Ivypaw.

Her sister’s silver-and-white pelt was flashing beneath the bramble. “Coming,” Ivypaw breathed.

Dovepaw jumped up to the next ledge, then the next, until the dens of the camp looked like small clumps of scrub below her. Fizzing with excitement, she scrambled over the lip of the cliff and onto soft grass.

Ivypaw bounded up after her. “How did you find out about that?”

“Lionblaze.” He’d told her in case she ever needed to escape camp without being seen. I bet he didn’t expect me to use it so soon, she thought with a glimmer of satisfaction. I make my own decisions.

A half-moon lit the treetops, filtering through the bare branches and striping the forest floor silver. Breathing the musty scents of the night-damp forest, Dovepaw scampered into the trees.

Ivypaw ran beside her. “I wonder if anyone else is out?”

Dovepaw cast her senses through the trees, feeling for signs of movement. The waves on the lakeshore murmured softly, like the lapping of her mother’s tongue against her fur. Beyond the border, a ShadowClan kit wailed, waking from a bad dream, and across the lake, on the far side of RiverClan territory, Twolegs yowled in their nest.

“Where should we go?” Ivypaw’s question jerked her back. “What about the old Twoleg nest? It’s really spooky. I bet you’re not brave enough!”

No. Dovepaw knew exactly where she wanted to go. She could sense Sedgewhisker stirring in her nest, her eyes flickering as though the pain in her leg wouldn’t let her rest. “Let’s go to the moorland.”

Ivypaw skidded to a halt. “WindClan territory?”

“Right to their camp.” Dovepaw paused beside her. She needed to make a challenge that Ivypaw couldn’t resist.

Her sister stared at her, whiskers quivering as though she’d scented prey. “To their camp?” she echoed breathlessly.

“I haven’t seen Whitetail or Sedgewhisker since I got back from upstream.”

Ivypaw’s tail drooped. “What do you want to see them for?” She sounded puzzled and hurt. “You don’t need friends in WindClan. You’ve got friends here.” She flicked her tail toward the hollow.

“But don’t you want to see if we can make it?” Dovepaw coaxed. She couldn’t explain Sedgewhisker’s injury without giving away her secret. “We can always say we were lost if we get caught. We’re only apprentices. No cat is going to think we’re trying to invade.” She had to see if Sedgewhisker was safe. Just because Lionblaze couldn’t care less doesn’t mean I have to. “Oh, come on,” she pleaded with Ivypaw.

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “Okay.” She trotted away through the trees, heading toward the WindClan border. “If any WindClan cat catches us”—she ducked under a spreading yew bush—“we can say we were chasing a squirrel and hadn’t realized we’d crossed the border.”

Dovepaw’s belly brushed the ground as she scrabbled under the low branches. “They’d think we’re pretty stupid not to notice we’d run onto moorland,” she pointed out.

“Okay.” Ivypaw skidded down a bank. “We’ll say we were sleepwalking.”

“What, both of us?” Dovepaw wondered if her sister was taking this seriously enough.

“We can’t just tell them we’ve come to visit Whitetail and Sedgewhisker,” Ivypaw mewed.

Why not? They had been on the quest together. “We’ll just have to make sure we don’t get caught,” Dovepaw decided.

They were nearly out of the trees and Dovepaw could smell the moorland. She let her senses reach far out over the peat and heather, relieved that she could detect nothing but the soft breathing of cats tucked up in their nests in the WindClan camp. “I wonder what the camp looks like?” she mewed.

Ivypaw padded from the trees and halted at the top of a steep bank. The wind tugged her whiskers and she shivered. “I’m glad I’m not WindClan.” The border stream gurgled below them. “It must be weird to sleep out in the open.”

“They must have dens.”

“But no trees,” Ivypaw mewed. “Just the open sky.” She slid down the bank, pushing off with her hind legs as she reached the bottom and clearing the narrow waterway in one bound. She looked back at Dovepaw, who had paused on the bank. “Imagine what it must be like when it’s stormy.” She shuddered.

Dovepaw was staring across the moorland rising ahead of them like a giant sleeping cat beneath the pale night sky.

“Hurry up,” Ivypaw urged. “It’s spooky over here.”

Dovepaw bounded down the bank and over the stream. Wind rushed over the grass and heather, buffeting her like a flock of starlings. She shivered, remembering the journey upstream and the exposed territories they’d had to cross to find the beavers. “It was like this when we—” She stopped herself.

“What?”

Dovepaw shook her head. “Nothing.” Ivypaw was still upset that she hadn’t been allowed to go on the quest. No wonder she wasn’t interested in visiting Whitetail and Sedgewhisker.

Ivypaw scanned the moorland, her eyes wide and anxious. The tang of the WindClan scent markers tainted the air. “Do you suppose they have night patrols?”

Dovepaw pricked her ears, searching for WindClan patrols. A monster growled far in the distance and sheep mewled on the hillside, their greasy, pungent smell familiar from the quest, when she’d had to hide between their stinky, mudencrusted legs.

She shook away the memory. There was still no sign of cats roaming the moor. “Nothing,” she reassured Ivypaw. Worried that Ivypaw might wonder how she was so certain, she added, “With the wind blowing toward us, it’ll be easy to scent any patrols.”

Ivypaw’s mouth was already open, tasting the breeze. “Come on.” Her silver-and-white pelt glowed in the moonlight as she began to head up the slope, eyes half closed against the wind.

Dovepaw followed her across the scent line, anxiety yawning in her belly, not daring to speak now that they were on WindClan territory. They weaved up the slope, the wind whipping more fiercely at their fur. A sheep bellowed close by and they both jumped, scooting through a clump of gorse and ducking lower as they pressed on between the heather bushes.

Ivypaw slowed. “Are you sure you want to go right to their camp?” There was a quaver in her mew.

Dovepaw could scent the camp just over a rise in the ground ahead. She could hear the gentle breathing of cats in dens. An image of the camp took shape in her mind: stiff bushes sheltering hollows scooped in the sandy soil; a paw-scuffed clearing; a gorse-shadowed dip, rich with the tang of medicine herbs. “Just a little farther,” she pleaded. She could sense Sedgewhisker clearly. The pale tabby she-cat was lying in a den beside Whitetail. Their denmates surrounded them, a jumble of pelts, warm and sheltered from the wind. Only Sedgewhisker stirred. She kept sniffing gingerly at her wound.

It can’t be too bad if she’s not in the medicine den, Dovepaw reasoned. Still, worry pricked at her pelt. She had to be sure!

But how in the name of StarClan was she going to get Sedgewhisker’s attention without waking the rest of the den?

I’ll worry about that when we get there.

They crested the rise. The earth dipped in front of them, a wide hollow denting the moorland. It was ringed by a grassy slope, edged at the foot by a wall of scrubby bushes. A sandy clearing glowed at the center, just as Dovepaw had imagined.

“That’s it!” Dovepaw could hardly keep her excited mew to a whisper. “The camp!”

Ivypaw flicked her tail across her sister’s mouth. “I bet Bumblepaw or Briarpaw’d never do anything like this!” she breathed. “You’re not really going to look for Sedgewhisker and Whitetail, are you?”

“Of course!” Dovepaw began to slink down the slope.

“You can’t!” Ivypaw protested. “It’s too dangerous.”

Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. “You can stay at the top if you want!” she hissed.

Ivypaw darted after her. “No way! If you’re going, then so am I! We’re in this together, right?”

Dovepaw knew exactly where the warriors’ den was and crept toward it, the moorland grass slippery beneath her pads.

Ivypaw pressed behind her, hardly breathing. “Is everyone asleep?”

Dovepaw’s tail twitched. “Nearly everyone.”

Ivypaw hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“It’s okay,” Dovepaw urged. “It’s just a guard. He won’t see us.” She could see the silhouette of a single warrior in the clearing, his shoulders bunched with tiredness, his back toward them as he scanned the opposite horizon.

Ivypaw stiffened when she saw him and ducked lower as they slithered into the shadows around the scrubby camp wall. They slid through a gap between the stems and tiptoed toward a wide tangle of shrubs. The warriors’ den.

Slipping into the darkness beneath the branches, Dovepaw felt a glimmer of relief.

Ivypaw was trembling beside her. “What do we do now?”

“Sedgewhisker is asleep just beyond the wall.” Dovepaw touched her tail against the spiny branches, sensing her friend only a tail-length away. “Sedgewhisker!” she hissed.

“What are you doing?” Ivypaw gasped.

Dovepaw ignored her sister’s protest. “Sedgewhisker!” she hissed louder.

Leaves rustled beyond the wall. Sedgewhisker had sat up.

“She’s coming!” Dovepaw whispered to Ivypaw. She could hear Sedgewhisker picking her way between the nests on three legs, her injured leg tucked protectively under her.

The pale tabby appeared beside them like a moonbeam in the darkness. “Great StarClan, Dovepaw! What are you doing here?”

Dovepaw tipped her head to one side. The WindClan warrior sounded cross, not overjoyed to see her old friend from the quest.

“Follow me!” Sedgewhisker hissed, and limped through the camp wall and up the grassy slope. She scrabbled over the top and crouched beyond the rise, wincing with pain.

Dovepaw and Ivypaw scooted after her.

“Are you okay?” Dovepaw looked anxiously at Sedgewhisker’s hind leg, which was swathed in cobweb and reeking of herbs.

Sedgewhisker was scowling. “Why did you come here?”

Dovepaw felt her ears flatten. Wasn’t she pleased they had come? “I-I was worried,” she stammered. “I heard a dog chasing you.” She didn’t dare say more in case she gave away her secret, but it seemed she had said too much already. A growl rumbled in Sedgewhisker’s throat.

“Have you been spying on us?” the WindClan warrior snapped.

Ivypaw swung her head to stare at Dovepaw, her eyes flashing with alarm and confusion. “You didn’t mention a dog!”

Sedgewhisker leaned closer. “How did you know about it?”

Dovepaw flinched away. “I-I heard it while I was training.”

Ivypaw blinked. “When? You didn’t say!”

Sedgewhisker was watching them through slitted eyes.

Dovepaw felt a stab of disappointment. “I was worried you were hurt, that’s all,” she muttered.

Sedgewhisker bristled. “We can take care of ourselves, you know. We don’t need a ThunderClan apprentice to watch out for us!”

A voice grumbled from the shadows outside the bush wall. “What’s going on? Who are you talking to, Sedgewhisker?”

Dovepaw and Ivypaw froze. There was nowhere to hide! Pawsteps padded up the slope toward them. Ivypaw unsheathed her claws while Dovepaw struggled to slow her breathing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

A lithe ginger shape appeared above the edge of the hollow.

Weaselfur.

His gaze flicked over the two ThunderClan apprentices, and then Sedgewhisker. “What are you up to now?” he mewed wearily. “Haven’t you caused us enough trouble today, getting your patrol tangled up with that dog?”

Sedgewhisker bristled. “I was the only one hurt!”

Weaselfur looked back at the camp. “Invaders!” he called. There was no urgency in his yowl. “Why didn’t you alert the Clan?” he asked Sedgewhisker, hardly paying any attention to Dovepaw and Ivypaw.

“I was handling it,” Sedgewhisker growled.

Ivypaw straightened up, whiskers quivering. “We don’t need handling,” she mewed crossly.

“Hush!” Weaselfur turned on her, his hackles rising.

WindClan cats began streaming through the gaps in the scrub wall and swarmed up the bank.

A blue-eyed tabby she-cat circled them, tasting the air. “ThunderClan!”

“Is it an invasion?” A brown-and-white tom curled his lip.

A tabby tom lashed his tail. “I can’t smell any others.”

“They may have disguised their scent,” snarled a black she-cat.

“Do you really think they’re that clever, Nightcloud?” sneered the tabby.

Breezepelt slunk over the rise, his pelt bristling. “What are you doing here?” His eyes flashed with menace.

Dovepaw blinked hopefully as Onestar appeared and stepped in front of the young warrior. “Harespring!” The WindClan leader nodded to the brown-and-white tom. “Take Leaftail and Owlwhisker and search the area.”

The three warriors raced away, tails down, hackles up.

The blue-eyed tabby watched them leave, her claws kneading the grass. “Can I go too?”

“Calm down, Heathertail,” Onestar ordered. “They’ll call if they need backup.”

Dovepaw’s heart was racing. “We came alone.” She wrapped her tail around Ivypaw and tried to keep her chin high.

Onestar’s gaze was stern. “Why did you come?” he demanded. “Did Firestar send you?”

Dovepaw shook her head.

Sedgewhisker looked at her Clanmates. “She knew about the dog. She knew it chased us.” She flashed a look at Dovepaw. “Though it was nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Onestar widened his eyes. “How did you know?”

Dovepaw was ready for the question. “I heard it from the forest, while I was training.”

Heathertail growled. “How could you tell it was chasing our warriors?”

Dovepaw struggled for words. “I just…er…guessed,” she mewed at last.

“You guessed?” The WindClan leader sounded unconvinced. His Clanmates exchanged doubtful glances.

Breezepelt slid around his leader and glared at the two ThunderClan apprentices. “What else have you guessed about us?”

A small white she-cat appeared over the rise. Whitetail! She bristled when she spotted Dovepaw.

Dovepaw stared at the ground. She didn’t want Whitetail’s disapproval as well as Sedgewhisker’s. What had happened to the friendships they’d made?

Whitetail approached the two ThunderClan apprentices. “The quest is over,” she told Dovepaw. “You must respect boundaries. Your loyalty should be with your own Clan.” There was gentleness in her mew, as if she, at least, understood Dovepaw’s disappointment.

“Don’t they teach ThunderClan ’paws about scent markers?” A young WindClan apprentice was pacing angrily behind Whitetail, his lip curled.

“Of course they do,” Ivypaw replied hotly.

Onestar swept his tail over the heather. “Go back to your dens,” he ordered his Clanmates. “Heathertail and Breezepelt will take these foolish apprentices back where they belong.”

Dovepaw’s pelt flashed with heat. “We’re not foolish!”

Onestar gazed at her. “Then why are you here instead of tucked up in your nest?”

Dovepaw couldn’t meet his gaze. I thought my friends were in trouble! Anger and sadness squirmed in her belly. It was her stupid power’s fault that she’d heard the dog attack Sedgewhisker! She was only trying to be a good warrior. And a good friend. But it seemed friendship counted for nothing. She hung her head as Heathertail nudged her down the flank of the hill.

“Let’s get you home,” the blue-eyed warrior mewed.

Dovepaw shrugged her away and stomped through the heather. Ivypaw padded beside her. “At least they didn’t shred us,” she whispered.

Remorse stripped Dovepaw’s anger away. “I’m sorry I made you come.”

“You didn’t make me do anything!” Ivypaw answered indignantly.

The two WindClan warriors flanked them as they crossed the moor. No one spoke, but a low growl rumbled occasionally in Breezepelt’s throat.

Heathertail swung her head and glared at her Clanmate. “Will you stop making that noise!” she growled.

“Do you want to make them feel welcome?” Breezepelt snapped back.

“I think they got the message from Onestar,” Heathertail pointed out. “They don’t need you snarling at them all the way to the hollow. They’re just apprentices.”

“It’ll teach them not to do it again.”

“Just shut up!” Heathertail snorted. “No one died and made you leader.”

Breezepelt let out a hiss, then was quiet.

The four cats swished through the heather to the ThunderClan scent line, where the stream chattered through the gully dividing the two territories.

“We know the way from here,” Dovepaw told the WindClan warriors.

Heathertail gazed steadily at her. “We’re taking you back to your camp.”

“You can’t do that!” Ivypaw objected.

What would Firestar say if they brought WindClan cats to the heart of their territory? Dovepaw’s fur ruffled along her spine. But the WindClan cats looked determined. She and Ivypaw couldn’t fight them, and she wasn’t going to make this situation more humiliating by begging them not to come.

Breezepelt had already leaped the stream. Reluctantly, Dovepaw led her sister down the bank and jumped the gully. Heathertail bounded after them. With heavy paws, Dovepaw headed toward camp.

“Firestar’s going to kill us,” Ivypaw whispered in her ear.

Dovepaw didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t explain why she had taken Ivypaw to the WindClan camp without revealing her power. The whole Clan was going to think they were mouse-brained and reckless.

The WindClan cats padded ahead of them, weaving along tracks and through bushes as though they knew the forest well. Heathertail veered along a fox track that led them around a wide swath of brambles.

Ivypaw flicked her tail. “How do you know where you’re going?”

Without glancing over her shoulder, Heathertail replied, “We’ve been here before.”

“But—” Ivypaw began to protest.

“She said, we’ve been here before,” Breezepelt growled in a voice that put an abrupt end to the conversation.

As they neared the thorn barrier, Dovepaw scented Rosepetal bounding toward them. “What are you doing here?” she challenged the WindClan warriors, hackles raised.

Breezepelt halted. “This isn’t an attack.”

Heathertail stepped aside. “We’re just returning a couple of strays.”

Rosepetal stared at Ivypaw and Dovepaw in disbelief. “What are you doing out of the hollow? And with them?” She flicked her tail to the WindClan cats.

A cloud crossed the moon. Dovepaw was relieved by the sudden shadow. She stared at her paws, not knowing how to explain.

“We found them outside our camp,” Heathertail told the startled ThunderClan warrior.

Shifting her paws, Rosepetal stared levelly back at Heathertail. “Thank you for bringing them home,” she meowed. “I’ll take them back to their den.”

Breezepelt stepped forward. “We’re coming with them,” he told her. “I want to speak with Firestar.”

Rosepetal bristled. “He’s asleep.”

“So was WindClan before this pair woke us!” Heathertail growled.

Dovepaw felt herself shrivel inside her pelt.

Ivypaw’s tail drooped. “I didn’t think it could get worse.”

Breezepelt glared at her. “I don’t want any accusations that we took ThunderClan apprentices prisoner.”

Ivypaw bristled. “We wouldn’t lie!”

Rosepetal sighed and dipped her head. “Very well.” She turned and led the WindClan cats through the thorns.

Dovepaw trailed after, her heart quickening as she heard Rosepetal’s paws on the rock pile. She’s gone to wake Firestar.

Cats were stirring in their nests, den walls trembling as they got to their paws and slid out to see what was happening. The nursery shivered and tiny pawsteps pattered across the clearing. “What’s going on?” squeaked Cherrykit.

Poppyfrost’s nest rustled and the queen’s fur scraped the brambles as she followed her kit out of the nursery.

Dovepaw tried not to hear what any of the cats were saying. Her Clanmates were gathering to witness her humiliation. How could she explain? With a rush of frustration that tightened her throat, she wished fiercely that there were no such thing as the prophecy, and that she didn’t have any powers at all.

Why can’t I just be an ordinary cat?

CHAPTER 6

Jayfeather jerked awake. The air was still damp with night, yet voices were whispering in the clearing. Stones shifted as paws descended the rockfall.

Firestar’s awake.

Jayfeather sat up.

He tasted the air.

WindClan.

Jayfeather leaped from his nest and nosed his way through the brambles as Lionblaze and Cinderheart slid from the warriors’ den.

“What’s going on?” Lionblaze circled his apprentice.

Dovepaw didn’t answer, but fidgeted beside her sister as they stood as uncomfortable as owlets caught in daylight.

Briarpaw pushed her way out of the apprentices’ den, whiskers twitching with curiosity. “Come and see this,” she hissed over her shoulder to her denmates as Brambleclaw joined Firestar in the clearing. Nests rustled behind him, while Whitewing and Birchfall watched from their den, their tails gently stirring the branches.

Dustpelt pushed past them. “What are they doing here?” The dark tabby tom’s mew rang around the rock walls of the camp, anger aimed like a thorn at the WindClan warriors.

Breezepelt and Heathertail didn’t flinch.

“Keep your voice down, Dustpelt,” Firestar ordered. “We don’t want to wake every cat.”

“Why not?” Daisy marched out of the nursery, her fur bristling. “There are WindClan cats in the camp!”

“It’s not an attack,” Whitewing reassured the anxious queen.

“Are you sure?” Dustpelt circled the edge of the clearing, distrust crackling with every pawstep.

Heathertail’s tail brushed the ground. “You seem to have lost two apprentices,” she meowed. “We’re returning them.”

Jayfeather felt guilt pulse like a flame from Dovepaw and Ivypaw.

“I’ll handle this.” Firestar’s gaze flashed around his Clanmates. “Any cat not directly involved can go back to their nest.”

Dustpelt halted. The yew bush swished as the other apprentices scooted inside. Whitewing and Birchfall backed into their den.

“Lionblaze and Cinderheart, I want you to stay,” Firestar went on. “You too, Jayfeather.”

“What about me?” Brambleclaw meowed.

“Make sure everyone is settled and reassure the queens.” Firestar padded toward the thorn barrier. “Follow me,” he called over his shoulder. “I don’t want any more disturbances in camp.”

Jayfeather tagged behind Dovepaw, Ivypaw, Lionblaze, Cinderheart, and the WindClan warriors as they followed the ThunderClan leader through the thorn tunnel. The night air felt heavy on his pelt, and his mind was ablaze with the tensions flashing among the cats.

Outside the camp, Firestar sat down. Lionblaze’s paws scuffed the fallen leaves. An owl hooted overhead, then flapped away through the trees. Breezepelt and Heathertail stood stiffly beside each other, while Dovepaw and Ivypaw shifted on their paws. Cinderheart was tense and unhappy; Jayfeather could sense the knot in her belly. He shivered in the cold breeze.

Firestar cleared his throat. “Now, what’s going on?”

Breezepelt answered. “We found these two outside our camp.”

Dovepaw and Ivypaw shuffled closer together.

“Ivypaw?” Firestar’s attention focused on the apprentice. “Is that what happened?”

“We…” Ivypaw hesitated. “We were just exploring.”

“In the middle of WindClan territory?” Firestar’s mew was ominously soft.

“It was my fault!” Dovepaw broke in. “I…I heard a dog on the moor while we were tree training and I was worried….”

Jayfeather curled his claws. Oh no! Dovepaw! You mouse-brain! He felt Lionblaze stiffen.

A growl rumbled in Breezepelt’s throat. “You were worried?” His tail swished the leaves. “About WindClan? Firestar, don’t you teach your apprentices the warrior code?”

Firestar paused, then addressed the WindClan warriors calmly. “Thank you for bringing them back. I am sorry they disturbed you and your Clanmates. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Jayfeather sensed irritation itching beneath Dovepaw’s pelt, but she had the good sense to hold her tongue.

“We do live by the warrior code,” Firestar assured Breezepelt, his mew tight. “And we will make sure these young cats understand how important that is.” The ThunderClan leader was seething, embarrassed by his apprentices, but Jayfeather could also sense questions fizzing in his mind. What had these apprentices really been doing in WindClan territory?

Heathertail breathed out slowly. “Make sure you do.” As she turned and began to head away from the ThunderClan camp, Jayfeather felt tension crackle like lightning between her and Lionblaze, and she aimed her final barb at the golden warrior. “You should keep a closer eye on your apprentice from now on.”

Breezepelt swished after her through the undergrowth. “WindClan can take care of itself without your help!” he called before the ferns swallowed him.

Firestar waited until their pawsteps had faded. “What in the name of StarClan did you think you were doing?” he demanded, turning on Dovepaw and Ivypaw.

“It was my idea!” Dovepaw insisted.

“Ivypaw isn’t stuck to you like a piece of cobweb!” Firestar pointed out. “She could have changed her mind at any time.”

“I wasn’t going to let Dovepaw go alone!” Ivypaw objected.

“That doesn’t explain what you were doing in WindClan territory!” Firestar snorted. “What’s this nonsense about hearing a dog?”

When neither apprentice answered, he sighed. “Very well. Whatever the reason, it was a dumb thing to do!”

Was he really going to leave it at that? Jayfeather tipped his head to one side as Firestar went on.

“I’ll leave your punishment up to your mentors, but I hope they will make sure you improve your understanding of the warrior code. Your training so far seems to have left little impression.” Leaves rustled beneath his paws. “If you’re going to behave like kits, then you should be treated like kits. Now go!”

Dovepaw and Ivypaw began to pad away.

“Dovepaw,” Firestar called. “I want an extra word with you.”

Ivypaw halted, puzzled. “Why not me?”

“Never you mind.” Cinderheart nudged her forward. “Just do as you’re told!”

Ivypaw’s feet scuffed the ground as she was marched away by her mentor.

Jayfeather made to leave too, but Firestar called him back. “I want you and Lionblaze to stay.”

He was circling Dovepaw, his mind sharp as a thorn. “How did you know about this dog?” he quizzed the apprentice.

“W-what do you mean?” Dovepaw stammered.

Firestar’s attention flashed toward Jayfeather, crackling with suspicion. “What about you? Did StarClan send you a sign or a dream about the dog?”

Jayfeather shook his head. He wished he could lie to hide Dovepaw’s stupid mistake, but Firestar wouldn’t fall for it. “I’ve dreamed about dogs on the moors before,” he mumbled. “But not recently.”

Firestar’s attention shot back to Dovepaw.

“So, how did you know about it? Did you dream it?”

“I told you,” Dovepaw answered. “I heard it!”

A frustrated growl rumbled in Firestar’s throat. “What about you, Lionblaze? You were tree training with her. Did you hear this dog?”

Lionblaze shifted his paws. “I was on the ground,” he mumbled. “There was a breeze. It was impossible to tell.”

Firestar cut him off. “Then it was just Dovepaw.”

Jayfeather shifted his paws, his belly tightening. What was the ThunderClan leader getting at?

“Have you heard anything else other cats don’t hear?” Firestar’s question came out of the blue. “Like beavers blocking a stream, for example? That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Jayfeather froze. The shock from Lionblaze’s pelt swept over him like an icy wind.

The Clan leader sighed. “Dovepaw, I’ve worked out that you know things other cats don’t, and I don’t think you’re having dreams about them. So how do you know?” His tail-tip was tapping the ground. “I need to know. It’s important. It helped save the lake, but it also just got you into serious trouble. Even worse, it could have caused a battle with WindClan, and that makes it my responsibility.”

Confusion was flooding from Dovepaw, her mind whirling as she searched for something to say.

Firestar snorted and flicked his attention back to Jayfeather and Lionblaze. “It looks like I’m going to have to be the one who says it, doesn’t it?”

Lionblaze was holding his breath as Firestar went on.

“I think the three of you have something in common. Something we maybe should have discussed before.”

The fur on Jayfeather’s spine lifted.

“Haven’t you wondered why you can slip so easily into other cats’ dreams, Jayfeather? That’s not something every medicine cat can do. And Lionblaze, do you think I haven’t noticed the way you fight? You’re not just brave; you’re completely without fear. You must know that you’re safe. That no mortal cat can hurt you. And then we have Dovepaw, who knows what’s going on farther away than any of us can hear or see.” Firestar paused to take a breath.

He knows! Jayfeather’s heart beat faster. He knows we’re the Three!

CHAPTER 7

“Long ago, I was told of a prophecy—” the ThunderClan leader began.

“We know!” Jayfeather interrupted. He had walked through this memory in one of Firestar’s dreams. “We’re the Three. Kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in our paws.”

Shock flashed from Firestar’s pelt, then ebbed into weary acceptance. “So you know already.” He sighed. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time, since before Leafpool and Squirrel flight were born.”

Jayfeather wasn’t interested in Firestar’s memories. “But what does the prophecy mean?”

“Mean?” Firestar sounded surprised.

Doesn’t he know?

Before Jayfeather could speak, Dovepaw found her voice. “Did you think it would be Leafpool and Squirrelflight?”

“For a while,” Firestar answered slowly. “I thought it might be them and Cloudtail. But nothing happened. Then Jaykit, Lionkit, and Hollykit were born.” He stopped, and when he spoke again his tone was curious. “How long have you known about the prophecy?”

Jayfeather shrugged. “Since we were apprentices.”

“Did StarClan tell you?”

“Not exactly.” Jayfeather wanted to delve into Firestar’s mind, find out everything the ThunderClan leader knew about the prophecy. But he was only one of the Three. Lionblaze and Dovepaw needed to know too. The whole thing would have to be teased out in words. “But it didn’t need to come from StarClan, did it? This is not their prophecy.”

“No.” Firestar sounded perplexed. His paws shifted on the night-damp earth. “Do you know what your destiny is?”

“Don’t you?” Dovepaw gasped. “I mean, if you know about the prophecy, how come you don’t know what it means?”

“Didn’t the old cat tell you?” Lionblaze meowed.

There was a moment of silence as Firestar digested the fact that the three cats knew who had given the prophecy to him. “I don’t think even he understood what it meant,” Firestar admitted. “He was just passing on a message.”

Ice-cold fear spread along Jayfeather’s spine. No cat knows! They were floundering in shadow, heading for what?

He felt Firestar’s muzzle touch his head. “Skywatcher promised that you would come, and you have. We must have faith. There’s nothing we can do but wait,” the ThunderClan leader murmured.

Rage clawed Jayfeather’s belly. Didn’t he care what dangers could be lying in wait for his Clan?

“Tell me.” Firestar turned his attention back to Dovepaw. “What exactly is your power?”

Jayfeather sensed her stiffen, like a hunted mouse. They’d always told her to keep her power secret.

“It’s okay,” Lionblaze mewed. “You can tell him.”

“Okay.” Dovepaw hesitated for a moment. “I can sense things,” she began tentatively. “Faraway things.”

“How do you sense them?” Firestar urged.

“I—I hear them, and smell them, and sort of get glimpses.”

“Do you hear everything all the time?”

“It’s all kind of there—around me, in the background.” Dovepaw fidgeted. “I’m used to it. Like…” Another pause, then, “Like you don’t see every tree around you all the time but you know they are there; you know what they look like; you can remember which is which. You can focus on one tree or, if something’s out of place or unusual, it’ll catch your eye—it’ll make you look harder.”

“I see.” There was warmth in Firestar’s mew. “Now I know why you’re so good at hunting.” The ThunderClan leader’s tail swished. “The Three have come at last.” He sounded satisfied. “I will sleep a little easier from now on. Just be careful—your powers set you apart from other cats, but you are still members of this Clan. You are still bound by the warrior code, for as long as that stands.”

Jayfeather leaned forward, heart pounding. “But we don’t know what we’re here for!”

“And there’s nothing we can do until we find out.” Firestar began to pad toward the hollow. “ThunderClan is lucky that you have come. Let’s not ask for the stars as well. Tell me if anything changes,” he meowed over his shoulder. “You will have my full support.”

The thorns rustled as the ThunderClan leader disappeared into camp.

Lionblaze breathed out slowly. “How come he never said anything before?”

Jayfeather sat down. “I guess he was just waiting until he was sure.”

“I gave us away.” Dovepaw’s mew was contrite. “I shouldn’t have gone to WindClan.”

“It might be for the best,” Jayfeather reassured her.

“Yes,” Lionblaze agreed. “And now it’ll be easier to ask for more training time away from the other apprentices.”

“But we still don’t know what we’re training for,” Dovepaw pointed out. A yawn overtook her. Jayfeather was suddenly aware of the tiredness dragging at the young cat’s paws.

He blinked at Lionblaze, but the golden warrior was already padding over to his apprentice. “Come on,” he meowed, his fur brushing hers. “Let’s get you back to your den. You’ll need some rest before tomorrow’s training.” Lionblaze paused. “Are you staying here, Jayfeather?”

“I need to think.”

Lionblaze yawned. “Can’t you think in your nest?”

“I won’t stay out long,” Jayfeather promised.

“Okay.” Lionblaze sounded too tired to argue. He followed Dovepaw through the thorn barrier, leaving Jayfeather alone under the trees.

Firestar doesn’t know any more than we do. Jayfeather sighed. He walked down to the lake, following the scent of water and wind. As he emerged from the trees, the breeze whipped his whiskers back against his cheeks.

Jayfeather pictured the lake, wide, black, and silent, hiding the stick in its depths. Why did I destroy it?

He felt pebbles beneath his paws as he neared the water’s edge. A yowl rose from his belly. “I’m sorry! Rock! I didn’t mean it!” He drew the dank night air over his tongue, trying to catch some hint of the ancient cat’s scent, but tasted nothing but dying leaves and water. Fear yawned like a dark pit in his belly. Rock knew about the prophecy long before StarClan crowded Silverpelt, and Jayfeather had broken the only link he’d had with the blind old cat.

“Oh, Rock! Please! I need to know!”

The wind blew Jayfeather’s pleas back into his face. But he knew Rock heard him, could reply if he wanted.

Angrily, Jayfeather headed along the shore to where the stream tumbled out of the forest. He padded up the bank, picking his way carefully over the tangle of roots, heading upstream into the trees. When the stream narrowed, he leaped over it, careful not to let his tail fall into the cold, chattering water.

The damp earth felt good underpaw and he broke into a trot. He focused his senses harder so that he could run among the trees, sharply aware of the space around him, his whiskers and nose mapping his course, his ear fur pricked for the muting of sound that signaled the thickening of the undergrowth ahead.

Suddenly a leaf crackled. A bitter tang spiked his nostrils.

ShadowClan!

Was he that close to the border already? He slowed and padded forward cautiously, sniffing. Border markers dotted the trees ahead. They were fresh. Had ShadowClan started night patrols? He sniffed again. The scent belonged to a single tom. Why would one cat be out scent marking by himself?

A yowl ripped the air. Unsheathed claws slammed into Jayfeather’s shoulders, thrusting him into the leafy soil. He spluttered and shoved himself upward, rage firing his muscles. He flung off his attacker, recognizing the scent.

“Tigerheart!”

It was Tawnypelt’s son.

The young ShadowClan tom scrabbled to his paws. “S-sorry!”

Jayfeather sensed shame flooding Tigerheart’s pelt as the young tom realized he’d attacked a medicine cat.

“I didn’t realize it was you.” The earth whispered as Tigerheart sheathed his claws. “I thought you were trespassing.”

“Medicine cats can go where they need to,” Jayfeather reminded him.

“I—I know,” Tigerheart stammered. “What are you doing here? At night, I mean. Do you need something from Shadow Clan? I can take you to Blackstar. Were you on your way somewhere?”

While Tigerheart gabbled, Jayfeather smoothed his ruffled fur and tasted the air, listening for waves on the shore and the tone of the wind in the trees, trying to figure out exactly where he was. Far from the shore, close to the ShadowClan border, close enough to be knocked onto the wrong side by a clumsy attack from a young warrior. Realizing the markers were behind him, Jayfeather carefully edged backward until he was sure his paws were back in his own territory. A medicine cat could roam where he pleased, but not without good reason.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” Jayfeather hid his own discomfort by questioning Tigerheart. “Are you on patrol?”

“S-sort of.” Tigerheart shifted his paws. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.” His mew hardened.

He’s being very defensive. Jayfeather leaned closer. “ShadowClan doesn’t usually send out lone patrols in the middle of the night.”

“ThunderClan doesn’t send out lone medicine cats,” Tigerheart countered.

Cheeky cub! “You should go back to your den,” Jayfeather snapped. “You must have training tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Tigerheart backed off. “Okay.” Turning, the young tom scampered away into the trees.

As Jayfeather sniffed his fading scent, another touched his nose. It seemed oddly familiar as it wreathed around him but he couldn’t place it.

The fur on his shoulders prickled. Stiffening, Jayfeather felt himself being watched. He spun around, tasting the air, ears pricked, frustrated by his blindness. Was a cat observing him from the shadows? No sound. No scent, other than those Tigerheart had left.

Jayfeather shook out his fur. Don’t be mouse-brained! Tasting dawn, he ducked through a hazel bush and headed home.

Who’d be watching me at this time of night?

CHAPTER 8

Cold raindrops showered from the roof as Ivypaw pushed her way through the entrance and flung herself into her nest, making the whole den shudder.

“Hey!” Blossompaw sat up, shaking out her pelt.

Dovepaw blinked open her eyes. Was it dawn already? She felt heavy with sleep after yesterday’s long training session with Lionblaze. He’d made her test her senses to their limit, insisting she keep her awareness spread to the very edges of their territory while she hunted for the Clan.

“Have a nice sleep?” Ivypaw asked crossly.

Gray light was seeping through the yew branches. Far above the hollow, the forest roared in the wind. Ivypaw’s pelt clung, sodden and dripping, to her small frame.

Another stormy day.

Dovepaw stretched and yawned. “Have you been out already?”

“Dawn patrol,” Ivypaw huffed. “I don’t see why Brambleclaw made me go while he let you sleep in.”

Dovepaw pricked her ears. Did Firestar tell his deputy about her powers so that he would make allowances too? Why couldn’t they treat her like an ordinary apprentice? She stiffened as Ivypaw went on.

“What’s so special about you?” Ivypaw muttered. “I’ve seen Firestar watching you when he thinks no one’s looking. Now Brambleclaw’s started treating you like you’ve just come down from Silverpelt.”

“I guess they’re just making sure we’re following the rules,” Dovepaw soothed, hoping Ivypaw would believe her.

“And the rule is that you get to lie in a warm den while I’m out trudging through the rain?” Ivypaw snapped.

Blossompaw was washing the drips from her pelt. “We all have to do dawn patrols sometimes,” she pointed out.

“Some of us more often than others,” Ivypaw growled.

“Perhaps Brambleclaw’s got something planned for me,” Dovepaw mewed.

“What? Like an extra rabbit for breakfast?” Ivypaw curled down into her nest with her back toward Dovepaw.

“I’m sorry you had to go out without me.” Dovepaw began lapping at the raindrops caught in Ivypaw’s pelt. I wish they’d send me on the same patrols as Ivypaw, just to make it fair. “At least we’re allowed out of camp now,” she mewed between licks.

“Huh!” Ivypaw grumped, but Dovepaw could feel her relaxing.

“They can’t punish you forever,” Blossompaw mewed.

The two apprentices had been confined to camp for a quarter moon as part of their punishment for crossing the border into WindClan territory. Dovepaw couldn’t help thinking the elders’ den and nursery had never been so clean. They had spent every day dragging bracken in and out of the dens until Ivypaw was convinced they’d made every cat in the Clan a new nest.

“Dovepaw!” Lionblaze’s call sounded through the yew branches.

Ivypaw snorted. “Great timing,” she complained. “You were just getting to my itchy spot.”

“Sorry,” Dovepaw apologized. “Got to go.” She leaped from her nest and pushed her way out of the den into a haze of rain. “What is it?”

Lionblaze was sitting, whiskers dripping, in the rain-soaked clearing. “Hear anything?”

Dovepaw sighed. This had become his usual greeting. Did he think she was nothing more than a pair of gigantic walking ears?

“No,” she hissed, her irritation deepening as she noticed Firestar emerge from his den, his gaze flicking straight toward her.

A ripple of dark fur caught her eye. Briarpaw was scampering toward her, brown pelt plastered with rain. Thornclaw, her mentor, padded slowly after her.

“We’re going on border patrol!” Briarpaw skidded to a halt, slewing muddy water against Dovepaw’s pelt. The wind, circling down into the hollow, tugged at her whiskers.

Dovepaw purred, cheered by her denmate’s enthusiasm. It was as if the young cat hadn’t even noticed it was raining.

Thornclaw clearly had. He shook his whiskers crossly, sending droplets spraying. “Are you ready?” he asked Lionblaze, casting a brief glance at Dovepaw. “Brambleclaw wants us to check ShadowClan’s markers.”

Dovepaw felt a surge of excitement. A run through the forest would warm her up. “Come on!” She raced for the thorn barrier, beckoning to Briarpaw with her tail, and slipped through, happy to be out of sight of Firestar’s watchful gaze.

Thornclaw caught up to them outside.

“Which way should we go?” Dovepaw panted.

Thornclaw was staring along the gully. “We’ll go by the ancient oak,” he decided. He headed through the trees, his paws slapping over the wet leaves.

As they headed into the dripping forest, Dovepaw screwed up her face. Mud was clogging her claws and oozing up through her toes. Each time they pushed through a thicket a fresh shower of water seeped through her pelt.

Suddenly pawsteps slithered behind them. “Wait for me.” Graystripe was hurrying after them. “Firestar asked me to join you.” The gray warrior was puffing. His leaf-bare pelt, normally so thick, was rain-slicked against his body and he looked unusually lean.

Thornclaw flicked his tail. “Has ShadowClan been crossing the border again?”

“No prey has been stolen.” Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Just a few stray scent trails on our side of the border.”

Graystripe shook the rain from his fur till it stood in spikes. “Firestar wants us to keep an eye on the situation.”

Briarpaw’s eyes were round. “Do you think Firestar will mention it at the Gathering tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not,” Graystripe meowed.

Thornclaw peered up through the trees. “If there is a Gathering.” Dark clouds swarmed the sky, heavy with more rain.

“There’s a good breeze,” Graystripe observed. “I think it’ll have blown away the clouds by morning.” A hefty gust buffeted its way through the canopy and whisked the undergrowth. Graystripe dug in his claws as the breeze streamed through his whiskers. “If it hasn’t blown us away too.”

The stream was in full flood and it took Thornclaw a while to find the narrowest place to cross. He leaped first over the gushing brown water and turned to watch Briarpaw safely over. Dovepaw jumped next, her heart lurching as her paws skidded on the muddy bank. Thornclaw grabbed her scruff while she found her feet. Graystripe and Lionblaze made the crossing in easy bounds.

“It’s hard to believe the lake was ever empty,” Graystripe commented, watching the water swirl away downstream.

Lionblaze was already pushing on, leaping onto a fallen tree. The bark was green and shiny with wet moss, and as he landed his paws skidded, sending him hurtling over the other side. “Oof!”

Dovepaw heard him grunt as he crashed down through the dripping foliage. The smell of wild garlic tainted the air. She stretched her front paws up the log, peering over the top. “Are you okay?”

Lionblaze was thrashing around in a patch of dark green leaves, turning the air sour with their scent as he crushed them beneath him.

Dovepaw swallowed back a purr of amusement as Lionblaze finally scrambled to his paws, his fur ruffled. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Should we all disguise our scent?” Dovepaw asked as innocently as she could.

“That wasn’t my intention and you know it!” Lionblaze flicked his tail and headed on through the forest while Thornclaw and Graystripe bounded over the fallen tree after him.

“Be careful,” Briarpaw warned with a sparkle in her eyes as Dovepaw mounted the log. “It’s a bit slippery.”

Dovepaw snorted.

Briarpaw was purring loudly as they caught up with their mentors, but she hushed when Thornclaw flashed her a stern look. Instead, she wrinkled her nose at Dovepaw. “At least we won’t lose him,” she whispered, glancing at Lionblaze.

The golden tom stank of garlic, but was striding ahead as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Dovepaw began to scent ShadowClan markers, so strong that even the smell of Lionblaze couldn’t hide them. They mingled with the ThunderClan markers, which matched ShadowClan’s scent for scent. She wondered whether to cast her senses farther, to try to detect ShadowClan movement beyond, but yesterday’s practice had left her mind weary.

Light splashed in among the trees as they approached the edge of the forest. Dovepaw recognized the grassy space beyond, where she had charged unwittingly into a Twoleg pelt-den on the journey upriver. Fortunately the field was deserted now. Not even a Twoleg would be dumb enough to sit around in this miserable weather.

Lionblaze halted at the tree line, which was dotted with ShadowClan scent. Thornclaw and Graystripe began weaving among the undergrowth within the borderline, sniffing each bush and clump of ferns.

“Any sign?” Lionblaze called.

Graystripe shook his head, but Thornclaw had halted at a low hazel bush a few tail-lengths inside the border.

Briarpaw hurried to join him. “ShadowClan?” She sniffed the bush, the fur rippling along her spine. “They’ve been here!” she mewed in alarm.

Lionblaze and Graystripe crowded around her. Dovepaw hung back, the scent as clear in her nostrils as if she were standing beside it.

Tigerheart!

The scent pricked her memory. The young ShadowClan warrior had journeyed upstream to find the beavers with her. She knew his smell as well as any of her denmates’.

“Get back, Lionblaze,” Thornclaw ordered. “That garlic stink is tainting everything.”

That’s why he doesn’t recognize it! Dovepaw watched as Thornclaw sniffed again and found herself hoping that the warrior wouldn’t identify the scent.

Graystripe padded to the border and started pacing, lashing his tail. “Patrol!” he warned.

Four ShadowClan cats were approaching across the grass, their pelts rippling. Thornclaw and Lionblaze squared up beside Lionblaze to face them, keeping their paws on their own side of the border, but baring their teeth.

While Briarpaw hurried to join her Clanmates, Dovepaw padded to the hazel bush and sniffed. It was definitely Tigerheart. What in the name of StarClan had he been thinking, crossing the border? Was it an accident? Perhaps he’d been chasing prey and hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

“What are you doing on our border?” A black-and-white ShadowClan tom stared challengingly at the ThunderClan patrol.

Dovepaw recognized Crowfrost from the Gatherings. He had halted a few pawsteps from the ThunderClan cats. Beside him stood Ratscar, Pinepaw, and Tigerheart.

Graystripe curled his lip. “We’re checking out the ShadowClan scents inside our border.”

Crowfrost’s hackles lifted. “What?”

“There’s a hazel bush drenched in ShadowClan scent over here,” Lionblaze snarled.

Tigerheart growled, “What would we want with a load of sodden old trees?”

Graystripe dug his claws into the muddy ground. “Then why did you cross our border?”

“No ShadowClan cat has crossed your border,” Ratscar hissed.

Dovepaw was watching Tigerheart. His amber eyes gave nothing away.

Thornclaw stood aside. “Come and smell it for yourself!” he challenged.

“Don’t tell us what to do!” Pinepaw was ripping at the muddy ground, grass clumping between his claws. “Just because it was ThunderClan’s idea to go upstream to find the river doesn’t mean you’re in charge of every cat.”

“Just smell it!” Thornclaw growled.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Crowfrost spluttered. “If we cross your border then there will definitely be ShadowClan scent on your territory.”

Ratscar curled his lip. “Are you trying to trick us into a fight?”

“Why would we do that?” Lionblaze stared levelly at the ShadowClan warrior.

Tigerheart stepped forward. “Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll check it. But remember that you invited me over the border!” He trotted over the scent line, his tail straight up in the air. “Where’s this bush?”

Dovepaw narrowed her eyes. If Tigerheart checked the scent, he’d disguise his old scent with new. The evidence would be hidden. Smart! She felt a flash of admiration for his cunning. But still, he was up to something. What could it be? She stood her ground beside the hazel bush as he approached.

“Over here?” he called, shoving his nose into the brown leaves. “There’s a faint scent here, but it’s too old to tell if it’s ShadowClan or ThunderClan.” He turned, brushing his pelt against the bush, leaving strands of fur clinging to the spiky branches. “You must have bees in your brain, as usual.” Nose high, he turned back toward his Clanmates. The two patrols were still facing each other, as if they were daring their rivals to make the first move.

Dovepaw hissed as he passed her. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Tigerheart swung his head to stare at her, his eyes startled.

“Don’t deny it!” Dovepaw whispered, one eye on her Clanmates. They were busy outglaring ShadowClan. “I recognized your scent before you crossed the border.”

“Don’t tell, please!” Tigerheart’s tail drooped. “I’ll explain everything at the Gathering tomorrow.”

He shifted his paws, glancing anxiously toward his Clanmates.

A wave of sympathy washed over Dovepaw. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. He’d helped her defeat the beavers. She at least had to give him a chance to explain. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Thank you.” Smoothing his fur, Tigerheart recrossed the border and joined his Clanmates. “They’re imagining it,” he reported to Crowfrost.

“See?” Ratscar sniffed. “It was probably just scent drifting over the border.”

Graystripe took a step forward. “There was definitely scent on that bush!”

Crowfrost leaned closer till their whiskers almost touched. Only the invisible border separated them. “Why are you so scared of a bit of ShadowClan scent?”

Briarpaw puffed out her chest. “We’re not scared!”

No cat moved.

“Are you leaving?” Thornclaw growled at last.

“Why should we?” Ratscar flashed back at him. “We’re on our own territory.”

Graystripe snorted. “Come on,” he ordered his Clanmates. “If they want to rot their paws by standing in the mud, let them.” He turned, letting his tail flick over the border so that it brushed Crowfrost’s nose.

Crowfrost growled, his fur spiking, but he didn’t move as the ThunderClan patrol followed Graystripe into the trees.

Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. Ratscar and Crowfrost were talking softly, their heads bent together. Pinepaw was pacing the border, hackles still raised, but Tigerheart stood calmly gazing after her.

Dovepaw caught his eye and looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

What’s wrong with him? He had been so open and straightforward on the journey upstream. She’d never thought of him as sneaky. At least he’d promised to explain at the Gathering.

As they approached the hollow, Dovepaw, out of habit, let her senses search for Ivypaw. Her sister was not in camp. She listened until she recognized Ivypaw’s mew.

“Told you so!” Ivypaw was in the training hollow with Blossompaw. “You didn’t get me that time.”

Comforted, knowing her sister was safe and well, Dovepaw followed the patrol through the thorns. Firestar was pacing the clearing, his pelt dripping from the rain. He turned as soon as the patrol entered camp.

“Well?” he demanded, padding straight to Graystripe.

Graystripe shook the water from his whiskers. “More scents inside the border,” he reported.

Firestar frowned. Dustpelt, who had been sheltering under ferns at the edge of the clearing, emerged into the drizzle. “Is ShadowClan still trespassing?”

Cloudtail, his white pelt gray with rain, sat huddled in the clearing, ears pricked and eyes round. Sandstorm peered out from Firestar’s den, her green gaze glinting from the gloom, and stared with narrowed eyes at the knot of warriors. Millie padded out from her den, touching Graystripe’s shoulder with her nose before nuzzling Briarpaw, their kit. The brambles at the entrance to the medicine den trembled and Jayfeather padded out and sat down, his unseeing stare fixed on the returning patrol.

“I think it’s just one warrior who’s crossing the border,” Graystripe reassured his Clanmates.

Sandstorm ran down the tumble of rocks. “Do you know which one?”

Dovepaw glanced at her paws. While angry murmurs rippled through her Clan as they speculated, she let her senses stretch back toward ShadowClan territory. Tigerheart was following his patrol into their camp. While Ratscar reported to Blackstar, he lifted a rat from the fresh-kill pile and carried it to the edge of the clearing, then lay down and began to eat, with one anxious eye on his leader.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Dustpelt’s challenge brought Dovepaw’s senses back to the ThunderClan clearing.

Firestar lifted his chin. “Since we don’t know yet which cat is crossing the border, there’s nothing we can do.”

Thornclaw growled, low and hard.

“But,” Firestar went on, “we will strengthen patrols on the ShadowClan border and hopefully catch this warrior and find out what he’s up to.”

“I’d like to be the one who catches him,” Lionblaze hissed.

“Or her,” Millie countered.

“Whoever it is,” Firestar went on, “we can’t be sure whether they are acting on behalf of ShadowClan or alone, and until we are, we must not overreact.”

“You’ll mention it at the Gathering, though?” Sandstorm prompted.

“If necessary,” Firestar meowed.

“If necessary?” Dustpelt spluttered.

Graystripe weaved between the brown tabby tom and his leader. “Why stir up ill feeling if none exists?”

Lionblaze lashed his tail. “Because ShadowClan will think we’re weak!”

Firestar sat down and hooked his tail over his forepaws. “Strength doesn’t have to be proved.” He gazed intently at the golden warrior. “Remember, it may just be a single ShadowClan warrior, not the whole Clan.”

“Then we should tell them!” Thornclaw snapped. “If they can’t control their own warriors, every Clan should know it.”

“I know, Thornclaw.” Firestar dipped his head to the tabby warrior. “But sometimes it’s better to wait and see before sharing our problems. I don’t want the Clans thinking we can’t protect our borders.”

Thornclaw shook some of the moisture from his fur. “I suppose,” he muttered.

Firestar and Sandstorm bounded up the rocks, back to the shelter of the leader’s cave. Dustpelt followed Thornclaw to the shelter of Highledge, while Graystripe, Millie, and Briarpaw went to sniff the bedraggled prey on the fresh-kill pile.

“Are you hungry?” Lionblaze asked Dovepaw.

Before she could answer Jayfeather called across the clearing, “So?” The gray medicine cat hurried toward them. “Do you know who it is?” His gaze flicked anxiously to Lionblaze as he went on. “I caught Tigerheart sniffing around our border a few nights ago.”

“Really?” Dovepaw couldn’t hide her surprise. Then the ShadowClan warrior was up to something. Still, she held her tongue. She’d made a promise to let him explain first, and she wasn’t going to break it. After all, the Gathering was tomorrow. She wouldn’t have to keep her secret long.

“Tigerheart?” Lionblaze sounded equally surprised. “Why would he be up to anything on our borders? He was an ally half a moon ago! He helped us bring the river back.”

But Jayfeather was frowning. “That was half a moon ago,” he pointed out. “Not all cats think that one adventure makes everyone friends forever.”

Dovepaw bristled. Was he criticizing her for going to check on Sedgewhisker? Guilt stabbed her. And now she had agreed to keep Tigerheart’s secret. Perhaps Jayfeather was right to remind her of her loyalties.

A raindrop dripped from her ear tip and tickled the soft fur inside. She shook her head sharply. She would keep quiet until she heard what the ShadowClan warrior had to say at the Gathering.

CHAPTER 9

Dovepaw padded restlessly beside the barrier of thorns, anxious to be off.

Ivypaw sat watching her, her tail twitching irritably. “You’ll tell me everything?” she asked again.

“Of course,” Dovepaw promised. “As soon as I get back.” Ivypaw seemed to have gotten over her suspicion about why Dovepaw was being treated differently by the senior warriors, until Brambleclaw decided that only Dovepaw would go to the Gathering tonight.

Ivypaw glared at the ThunderClan deputy as he padded past.

He paused. “Don’t sulk,” he meowed. “You’re not a kit. You don’t need your littermate by your side every moment of the day.”

Whitewing sat up from where she’d been dozing after her evening meal. “As I recall, Brambleclaw,” she teased, “you were never pleased to miss a Gathering.” She glanced affectionately at her daughters.

Brambleclaw gave the white she-cat a stern glance, which lasted only a moment before melting into amusement. “Well, at least I had the decency to sulk in the privacy of my den.”

Ivypaw scowled down at her paws, tail flicking.

“Don’t worry.” Dovepaw weaved around her as Brambleclaw padded away to sit beside Graystripe. “When we’re warriors we’ll go to every Gathering together.”

Squirrelflight slid out of the warriors’ den and padded across the clearing. Her gaze darted toward Brambleclaw for a moment before she joined Leafpool beside the fresh-kill pile.

“Do you think Brambleclaw will ever forgive them?” Dovepaw whispered, staring at the two sisters. How could Brambleclaw be so cold toward his former mate? With a shiver, she wondered how two cats who’d been so close could suddenly start acting like they belonged to different Clans. That would never happen to her and Ivypaw.

At least Squirrelflight and Leafpool are still as close. Dovepaw watched the sisters as they leaned together, pelts pressing like littermates straight out of the nursery.

She nudged Ivypaw with her nose. “I’ll make sure I get some juicy gossip from Petalfur,” she mewed. She hoped that the shy RiverClan she-cat wouldn’t act like they’d never shared an adventure.

Firestar bounded down from Highledge. As the stones clacked beneath his paws, the rest of the patrol hurried toward the thorn entrance. Sandstorm, Thornclaw, and Brackenfur weaved restlessly beside the entrance as Foxleap, Rosepetal, and Brightheart emerged from the warriors’ den. Lionblaze was still licking his lips after a hasty meal as he waited for Jayfeather to pad from the medicine den. Together they joined their Clanmates while Millie slid from the dirtplace tunnel and hurried to stand beside Graystripe. Birchfall slid in next to Whitewing while Blossompaw and Briarpaw came dashing from the apprentices’ den, eyes bright with excitement.

Bumblepaw called after them, “I want to know everything that happens!” He’d be staying behind with Ivypaw.

As Squirrelflight left Leafpool’s side and tagged on to the patrol, Firestar signaled with his tail before ducking out of the camp. His Clanmates streamed out after him. Dovepaw sensed restlessness in the patrol as they headed for the lake in silence. Graystripe had been right: The wind had blown the sky clear and Silverpelt glittered around a full, bright moon. But the forest still dripped from the heavy rains, and Dovepaw’s fur was soon soaked as she followed her Clanmates through the wet undergrowth.

The chilly dampness seemed to have set everyone’s fur pricking with irritation.

“We’d better not find any ShadowClan stench on our land!” Foxleap growled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brambleclaw snapped. “We’re heading around WindClan’s side of the lake. Even ShadowClan wouldn’t be dumb enough to stray that far!”

Thornclaw paused and tasted the air. “I wouldn’t put anything past ShadowClan,” he muttered.

Foxleap lashed his tail. “We should cross into ShadowClan territory and leave our scent. See how they like it!”

“Yeah!” Rosepetal agreed. “I bet they wouldn’t be too pleased.” These days the dark cream she-cat seemed to agree with every word her denmate uttered.

Mouse-brain. Dovepaw instantly felt guilty. Rosepetal was a good warrior. Still, Dovepaw hoped that she would never be too moony about a tomcat to stop thinking for herself.

“We should do it,” Lionblaze growled. “Just to show them. Though their noses are probably too filled with pine scent to notice.”

Squirrelflight bounded up the slope past the golden warrior. “Stop stirring up trouble,” she warned.

Brambleclaw reached the top of the slope and stared down at Squirrelflight. “Sometimes aggression is necessary. StarClan gave us claws for a reason.”

The orange she-cat’s eyes flashed with shock, as though his words had raked her muzzle. Lionblaze winced visibly. The patrol regrouped at the shoreline and followed the lake’s edge, keeping three tail-lengths from the water.

Dovepaw scanned the hillsides. No sign of the other Clans, and no fresh scent tainted the fallen tree spanning the watery gap between the shore and the island. As Dovepaw crossed, her claws unsheathed to grip the slippery bark, she listened past the water rippling below the trunk, beyond the wind stirring the island trees.

The clearing was empty. She hopped down from the tree-bridge. The shingle crunched beneath her paws and water soaked up through her paw fur.

“Come on,” she whispered to Blossompaw. “Let’s explore.”

“But—”

She left Blossompaw trailing as she raced through the trees. “It’s okay,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re the first here.”

Blossompaw burst from the ferns a moment after Dovepaw had skidded into the clearing at the center of the island. The air was foul with the stench of weeds rotting on the waterlogged shoreline. Dovepaw wrinkled her nose. How did RiverClan bear it?

“Wait for me!” Briarpaw hurtled from the undergrowth after them. She halted and stared around the deserted clearing. Their Clanmates were still traipsing through the bushes, tree-lengths behind them.

“Let’s climb the big tree!” Blossompaw was already racing toward the Great Oak that loomed at the head of the clearing. In a blink Blossompaw had shot up the trunk and was sitting on the lowest branch, laying her tail regally over her front paws and puffing out her chest as though she were about to address the Clans.

“I, Blossomstar, welcome you—”

“Get down!” At Squirrelflight’s stinging yowl, Blossompaw slid off the branch and tumbled to the ground.

Dovepaw spun around, startled. The orange she-cat’s eyes blazed as Blossompaw found her paws and padded, shamefaced, back across the clearing.

“How dare you?” Squirrelflight scolded. “What must StarClan think?”

“Oops,” Briarpaw whispered, pressing close to Dovepaw.

Millie jumped out of the ferns, her eyes darting from Squirrelflight to Blossompaw.

Blossompaw was limping slightly. The gray warrior darted to her daughter’s side. “Are you okay?” She sniffed at Blossompaw’s leg.

“It’s fine,” Blossompaw assured her. “I just landed awkwardly.”

“What were you doing?”

Blossompaw hung her head. “I wanted to know what it was like to sit in the Great Oak. Squirrelflight made me jump by shouting at me and I fell out.”

Millie shot an angry glance at Squirrelflight. “There was no need to frighten her! She could have hurt herself badly.”

“She shouldn’t have been sitting in the tree in the first place,” Squirrelflight pointed out.

“She’s just a ’paw,” Millie reminded Squirrelflight.

“She’s old enough to know better!” Squirrelflight turned as Jayfeather emerged from the ferns. “Will you check Blossompaw?” she asked. “She’s had a fall.”

Firestar slid from the bushes. “Who’s had a fall?”

“It was nothing,” Blossompaw mewed, as Jayfeather checked her leg. “I’m fine.”

Firestar’s gaze swept from Squirrelflight to Millie, their pelts ruffled.

Graystripe padded ahead of him, tasting the air. “Yuck!” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know if this place smells worse when it’s empty or when the other Clans are stinking up the air.”

Dovepaw was grateful for the gray warrior’s humor after all the bickering. Squirrelflight and Millie had retired to different parts of the clearing. Brambleclaw took himself off to sit underneath a beech tree far from both she-cats. Whitewing padded into the clearing and glanced from Squirrelflight to Millie, uncertainty clouding her gaze, then chose a shadowy spot beside a clump of ferns, midway between them. Jayfeather took his place among the roots of the Great Oak, where the other medicine cats would gather once they arrived. Birchfall paced the edge, sniffing warily, while the rest of the patrol sat to one side, their tails flicking in silence.

The air smelled of rain despite the clear sky. Dovepaw shivered as a breeze sent a flurry of leaves drifting down into the clearing. She was almost relieved when she heard undergrowth rustling on the far side of the island and smelled the fishy tang of RiverClan. They were leaving their camp and heading for the clearing.

She noticed Firestar following her gaze to the reed beds beyond the trees and watching the sleek forms of the RiverClan cats emerge. He lifted his tail in greeting as Mistystar led her Clan into the clearing. Petalfur broke ranks immediately and raced over the leaf-strewn clearing, skidding to a halt beside Dovepaw while her Clanmates weaved among the ThunderClan cats and began sharing tongues.

“Hi!” The gray-and-white RiverClan she-cat puffed out her chest and lifted her chin. She seemed to have grown at least a mouse-span after her experiences on the journey upstream. “How’s training?”

“Great!” Dovepaw was pleased to see her, and even more pleased to be greeted like a friend by at least one of the patrol who had helped find the river. And yet Jayfeather’s words rankled in her mind. Not all cats think that one adventure makes every one friends forever. She pushed the thought away. She could be friendly without being disloyal to her Clan!

“Aren’t you finding everything is boring after our adventure?” Petalfur’s eyes sparkled.

If only! Lionblaze was pushing her so hard to hone her powers that she hardly had time to find anything dull. “I have a really good mentor,” she mewed, conscious of Lionblaze’s gaze flicking over her. Was he scared she was going to give something away?

Her discomfort sharpened as she scented WindClan crossing the fallen tree and heading for the clearing.

“Are you okay?” Petalfur’s eyes were round.

“What?” Dovepaw had been peering anxiously over her shoulder, wary of seeing the WindClan warriors who had watched her being unceremoniously marched home from the WindClan camp. She stiffened as Petalfur’s gaze strayed past her.

“It’s only WindClan!” The RiverClan cat hailed a familiar face. “Hi, Sedgewhisker!”

But the WindClan warrior turned pointedly away. “What’s gotten up her nose?” Hurt glinted in Petalfur’s amber eyes.

Dovepaw wanted to explain that Sedgewhisker’s coldness was directed at her, not at Petalfur. But she couldn’t bring herself to confess her ill-planned expedition into WindClan territory. And now Brambleclaw was staring at her, his eyes narrowed. I bet he’s wondering what Onestar will say about my crossing the WindClan border. She wished Ivypaw were with her.

“Cheer up.” Petalfur’s mew startled her. “WindClan has always been prickly. If they don’t want to speak to us, there’s not a lot we can do about it.”

Dovepaw flicked her tail. Petalfur was right. If her Clanmates wanted to snipe at one another and WindClan wanted to sulk, so what? She couldn’t forget her most important mission tonight. Tigerheart had promised to tell her what he’d been doing in ThunderClan territory. She searched for his scent, surprised to find it close and fresh on the cool night breeze. ShadowClan had reached the island.

As they padded into the clearing, Blackstar at their head, Firestar glanced up at the moon. Clouds were crowding the horizon. The ThunderClan leader bounded up the Great Oak, settling on the low branch Blossompaw had fallen from. Onestar and Blackstar scrambled up after him. Mistystar glanced up the thick trunk, as though looking for clawholds, then hauled herself up and settled beside the other leaders.

Dovepaw watched the cats gathering at the foot of the tree, looking for Tigerheart’s dark tabby fur. She caught a tiny glimpse of him, his pelt merging with his Clanmates’, until a knot of RiverClan cats shouldered between them, blocking her view.

“Tigerheart!” she hissed. But he didn’t turn around. Instead, sharp claws tweaked her tail.

“Ow!” Dovepaw looked over her shoulder.

Sandstorm was looking at her sternly. “It’s time to sit down. The leaders are about to speak.”

Frustrated, Dovepaw peered through the jumble of pelts and ears to where Tigerheart sat. Snowbird’s white fur glowed beside his slick, dark pelt. She tried to catch his eye, but Redwillow slid in beside them and Tigerheart disappeared behind his Clanmate’s wide, tawny head. Reluctantly Dovepaw turned to watch the leaders.

Onestar padded to the center of the branch. Dovepaw anxiously held her breath. Please don’t mention me! “The return of the lake has been a blessing from StarClan,” he began.

“I suppose the cats who went and found it had nothing to do with it,” Blossompaw muttered under her breath.

“Our brave warriors who unblocked the river have returned safely and are happy to be with their Clan once more.” The WindClan leader’s gaze swept over the ThunderClan cats, and Dovepaw found herself hunching into her shoulders as he went on.

“WindClan will be forever grateful for the courage and strength of its brave warriors.”

Briarpaw pressed against her. “He’s acting like WindClan did it alone,” she whispered. “What about you and Lionblaze and Tigerheart and—”

“Hush.” Squirrelflight glared at them before turning back to the Great Oak as Onestar continued.

“As leaf-bare approaches, it’s important we secure our borders. Rabbits are running well, but if leaf-bare is harsh, we must protect what is ours.” He stared down at ThunderClan. “Any trespassers will be dealt with severely.”

Dovepaw curled her claws, waiting for him to mention her by name. Relief swept through her as the WindClan leader simply nodded and withdrew along the branch, making way for Mistystar. Silence gripped the Clans as the new RiverClan leader spoke for the first time.

“You all know by now that I am RiverClan’s new leader.”

Cheers erupted. “Mistystar! Mistystar!”

Firestar stood and dipped his head low to the gray she-cat, his eyes glowing with pride. Dovepaw pricked her ears. The ThunderClan leader seemed to have genuine warmth for the new RiverClan leader. I suppose he’s known her for a long time. Besides, judging from the calls that came equally from every Clan, she was popular with all the cats, just as Jayfeather had predicted.

Mistystar nodded, her blue eyes round and unblinking, her gaze sweeping the Clans until they fell silent. “Leopardstar was a noble leader,” she began. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the cats as Mistystar pressed on. “She was brave and loyal and would have done anything to protect her Clanmates.”

“Or Tigerstar,” a sour mew whispered behind Dovepaw.

She jerked around, puzzled. One of the WindClan warriors was whispering into her Clanmate’s ear. Dovepaw frowned. Like every kit, she’d heard nursery tales about the dark warrior. But what did he have to do with Leopardstar? She leaned closer to Blossompaw. “He was ShadowClan’s leader, wasn’t he?”

Sandstorm glanced sharply over her shoulder. “Yes,” she hissed. “But it was a bit more complicated than that. Now hush!”

Dovepaw bit her tongue as Mistystar went on.

“We are pleased to have Petalfur back and we grieve for Rippletail, who died bravely fighting the beavers.”

Dovepaw’s heart tightened. She hadn’t thought of the RiverClan warrior in days. She didn’t want to forget him, not ever.

“I am sure,” Mistystar added, “that he and Leopardstar walk now among StarClan and watch over their old Clanmates.”

Sighs of sympathy spread through the Clans as Mistystar sat down.

Blackstar took her place. “Leopardstar will be missed.” The ShadowClan leader seemed to speak with genuine grief, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. “The loss of a leader is a loss to all the Clans,” he went on. “But new blood brings new energy, and we wish Mistystar a long and happy leadership.”

Dovepaw stared at the ShadowClan leader, surprised by his compassion. Why couldn’t the Clans show this sense of friendship more often? Perhaps Mistystar’s leadership would mark a new time, one based on trust rather than suspicion.

As hope flashed in Dovepaw’s chest, the ShadowClan leader’s eyes hardened. “And yet borders are still borders. They must remain unblurred.”

Dovepaw saw Graystripe stiffen as Blackstar glared down at the ThunderClan cats.

“There’s been too much activity on ThunderClan’s border,” Blackstar hissed. “Scent marks are becoming confused.”

Thornclaw leaped to his paws, bristling. “How dare you! It was ShadowClan who left scent on our territory!”

RiverClan and WindClan cats turned and watched, their eyes bright with interest as ShadowClan warriors began to get to their paws. Dovepaw noticed Graystripe unsheathe his claws.

“The truce!” Sandstorm hissed in the gray warrior’s ear, but Graystripe only dug his claws hard into the ground, letting the fur lift on his shoulders.

“Don’t stir up trouble you can’t handle,” he warned.

“Sit down!” Brambleclaw’s growl made Graystripe pause. Snorting, he let his hackles fall, but kept his claws unsheathed.

Blackstar’s eyes gleamed. “We aren’t stirring up trouble,” he argued. “It was ThunderClan who started the accusations.”

Graystripe’s tail was twitching as the ShadowClan leader went on. “One of my warriors inspected the so-called scent you found inside your border, and he couldn’t tell which Clan it belonged to. As usual, ThunderClan is looking for any chance to tell the other Clans what to do.”

Sandstorm pressed against Graystripe, as though reminding him to control his temper.

Dovepaw wriggled forward so that she could glimpse Tigerheart. The dark brown tabby warrior was keeping his head down. He knows he’s guilty. But do his Clanmates?

As she stared at Tigerheart, the scent of blood touched her nose and she suddenly realized that the young tom was scratched. His fur was ruffled by wounds, not embarrassment, and one of his ears was torn. Perhaps his Clanmates did know he had left scent on ThunderClan’s territory and had decided to punish him.

She frowned, her thoughts wandering. Poor Tigerheart! ShadowClan warriors must be every bit as vicious as the nursery tales said.

A sharp nudge made her jump. “Stop staring at Tigerheart,” Sandstorm snapped. “You look like an owl!”

Was I staring? Dovepaw turned her gaze back to the Great Oak. Blackstar was still lecturing.

“If ThunderClan can’t keep its borders marked and stay inside those markers, then ShadowClan will react.” He sighed dramatically. “Why does ThunderClan always seem to think the other Clans are in their debt after a mission that involved all of us?” He let his gaze grow mournful and drift over RiverClan and WindClan, as though they shared a common burden.

Dovepaw winced. Had Blackstar somehow found out about her visit to Sedgewhisker?

Blossompaw gave her a shove. “Stop fidgeting!”

“Sorry!” Dovepaw hadn’t realized she’d been shuffling her paws so much.

“Be quiet!” Sandstorm hissed at them. “Or I’ll send you both home early!”

Dovepaw pulled in her paws and pressed her lips together, vowing not to say another word. What would StarClan think if she was sent home from a Gathering?

At last Blackstar stopped complaining and Firestar padded to the center of the branch, his chin and tail held high. “Welcome, Mistystar,” he began. “You have earned your leadership and ThunderClan wishes you well.” He blinked warmly at the RiverClan leader. “We shall miss Leopardstar. I remember her from all the way back when I was an apprentice in ThunderClan.” A purr rose in his throat. He was acting as though Blackstar’s speech had never happened. “I always respected her, and, though her loyalty to RiverClan never wavered, she was a leader who understood the importance of keeping every Clan strong.” Firestar flashed a glance at Blackstar before going on. “She had the heart, courage, and strength of the mighty cat she was named for.”

As he dipped his head, a mew sounded from behind Dovepaw. The WindClan warriors were grumbling again.

“Firestar’s always acting like everyone’s ally!”

“Trying to make friends to avoid battle.”

“Never did like the smell of blood.”

“Just like a kittypet.”

Dovepaw whirled around. “Just because he’s friendly doesn’t mean Firestar or ThunderClan is weak!”

Oops! Remembering Sandstorm’s warning, she shut her mouth quickly and turned back to the Great Oak.

“Blackstar.” Firestar used his smoothest mew to address the ShadowClan leader. “We understand borders, and their importance in keeping peace among the Clans. We also know they are worth fighting for.” His voice was suddenly edged with threat. He held Blackstar’s gaze for a moment; then, just as the ShadowClan leader opened his mouth to retaliate, he turned back to the gathered cats. “Good news in ThunderClan,” he mewed brightly. “Cherrykit and Molekit are our newest members, born to Poppyfrost.” He waited while warm murmurs of congratulations echoed through the Clans before concluding, “At this rate, we’ll have to make the warriors’ den even bigger.” He dipped his head. “With the blessing of StarClan.” Then he jumped down from the oak.

Dovepaw lifted her head, feeling very proud of her leader. Around her, the cats began to drift across the clearing. Apprentices mingled, sharing training gossip, and warriors gathered in knots while elders swapped their own news.

Blossompaw and Briarpaw were heading for a cluster of ShadowClan and RiverClan apprentices.

“Are you coming?” Briarpaw called.

Dovepaw blinked. She’d been looking for Tigerheart. “In a while,” she promised.

Where had he gone? Snowbird and Redwillow were gossiping with two WindClan warriors. Tigerheart was nowhere to be seen. She breathed deeply, trying to make sense of the jumble of scents on her tongue.

There!

She tasted his scent at last. Her gaze darted toward a bramble bush at the far side of the clearing. He was crouching in the shadows beneath.

“Hiding?” she mewed, trotting up to him.

He sat up. “What from?”

“Me.” Dovepaw stared boldly at him. “You promised you’d explain what you were doing in our territory.”

Tigerheart’s eyes grew wide. “Keep your voice down!” He glanced nervously around. “Follow me.” Creeping away, ears and tail lowered, he led her through the bramble thicket and into a small dip behind a cracked willow tree. Dovepaw blinked, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. The willow blocked out the moon and half of Silverpelt.

“Look,” Tigerheart whispered. “I can’t tell you exactly what I was doing, but we’re not planning an invasion, I promise.”

Dovepaw cocked her head. The young warrior was definitely up to something. “You were on my territory,” she reminded him. “I have a right to know why. And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to report you to Firestar!”

Tigerheart dropped his gaze. “You do have a right to know.” His mew was soft, apologetic. “But, please, I need you to trust me.” He raised his eyes and gazed into hers. They were round, almost black, and glittering with worry.

Dovepaw felt a rush of sympathy. The young tom was clearly torn. Something was bothering him. She nodded, distracted for a moment by the soft fur edging his face. He seemed desperate for her to understand. She curled her tail to touch the tip of his. He stiffened at her touch, but didn’t draw his tail away; instead, he leaned forward and rested his nose against her ear fur.

“Thank you.”

The warmth of his breath on her ear made her shiver. It smelled sweet, for a ShadowClan cat’s breath.

“Okay.” She made an effort to focus on the reason she’d wanted to talk to him. “But if something is threatening the forest, I need to know.”

“Nothing’s threatening the forest,” Tigerheart promised. “I would tell you if something were.” His eyes grew rounder until Dovepaw felt his gaze reaching into hers. “On the journey upstream, we were almost…friends.”

Dovepaw found herself nodding vigorously.

He sighed. “If we were in the same Clan it would be so easy….”

No! Dovepaw drew back, suddenly aware that she was leaning far too close to this handsome young ShadowClan warrior. She had to change the subject! “H-how did you get those scratches?” She stared at the fur on his shoulder, still clotted with blood. “That one looks nasty.”

Tigerheart sat back and shrugged. “Battle training.”

Dovepaw shuddered. Did ShadowClan warriors train with teeth and claws bared? “Has Littlecloud treated it? It may get infected.”

Tigerheart turned away so that his shoulder was hidden in shadow. “It’s not that bad, honest. It only hurts when I—” He broke off.

The bramble bush rustled.

Tigerheart crouched and flattened his ears. Dovepaw drew back into the deeply shadowed cleft between the roots of the willow tree.

“Blasted prickers.” It was an old mew, croaking with irritation. Dovepaw sniffed and smelled WindClan. It must be an elder looking for a quiet spot to make dirt.

Tigerheart scooted backward. “Got to go,” he murmured, and disappeared over the roots.

Dovepaw stared after him. Why was he acting so odd? Puzzled, she hopped out of the dip and onto a thick root. “It’s quiet over there!” she called to the grumbling WindClan elder, pointing with her tail to a clear spot a few tail-lengths farther into the woods.

The old cat dragged himself free of the brambles. “Now you tell me!” he rasped. “Once my ears have been shredded and half my pelt is hanging in this fox-toothed bush.”

Whiskers twitching, Dovepaw scooted back to join her Clan. Sandstorm saw her and nudged Whitewing.

“Dovepaw?” The white warrior was calling for her anxiously. “There you are!”

“I wasn’t far away.” Dovepaw weaved past Thornclaw and Graystripe, while Firestar circled his Clan, his shoulders rippling with tension. “What’s going on?”

“Blossompaw! Briarpaw! I’ve found her!” Whitewing called back the two apprentices who had been scooting around the edge of the clearing, sniffing the bushes. “Where were you?”

“Over there.” Dovepaw nodded vaguely toward the cracked willow. “Why isn’t anyone sharing tongues anymore?”

The Clans had separated and were eyeing one another warily.

Sandstorm flicked her tail. “WindClan and ShadowClan started fussing over boundaries again,” she huffed.

Ratscar paced around his Clanmates, his eyes burning in the moonlight as he glared at ThunderClan.

Breezepelt sat bolt upright, eyes slitted, his tail sweeping the ground behind him. “Borders are borders,” he growled at Lionblaze, who was staring back at the furious warrior.

“You share a mission with ThunderClan and they think they own the whole lake!” Crowfrost hissed.

Foxleap clawed at the ground. “But we saved the lake!”

“We all saved the lake!” Onestar hissed. “Cats from every Clan. So why are you crossing borders like you own us now?”

Darkness slid over the clearing. Dovepaw looked up. The clouds that had been bubbling on the horizon had begun to drift across the moon. Pale light still filtered through, but the wind was picking up and the thickening clouds were swallowing Silverpelt star by star.

Firestar lashed his tail. “Let’s leave before StarClan calls a halt to this Gathering altogether.” He shot an angry look at Onestar and Blackstar. “ThunderClan is not making trouble and you know it.”

Dovepaw felt herself swept along by her Clanmates as they headed for the edge of the clearing. Blossompaw nudged her forward, while Millie, Brightheart, and Brackenfur jostled behind her.

Firestar held his ground a moment longer. “Think carefully,” he warned the WindClan and ShadowClan leaders, “before you accuse us of something we didn’t do!” He turned, curling his lip, and followed his Clan into the trees.

CHAPTER 10

Bright flowers nodded around the apprentice as she weaved, slender as a pine martin, through the grass. She sneezed as pollen dusted her soft muzzle. Then, relishing the sun on her back, she lifted her forepaws and peered over the curving stems. Wide-eyed, she gazed at the broad green pasture and breathed the soft scent of the shimmering grass.

A huge gray mare ambled past, its wide hooves thumping the earth and tearing trails through the grass. The she-cat scooted backward and sheltered beneath the lush leaves of a dock. Butterflies whirled up as the horse sauntered away. The apprentice scampered and leaped after them, swiping the air as they jerked on the breeze and scattered like windblown petals into the blue sky.

The air was heavy with greenleaf scent and, as the cat tasted the breeze, she caught the musky tang of prey. Nostrils flaring, she followed the scent, tail down, ears flat. She tracked it through dark green clover and around a clump of bobbing white flowers before catching sight of a tiny flicker of movement.

Mouse!

Nibbling at the juicy roots of a cowslip, it didn’t even flinch as she began to wiggle her hindquarters. Confident, she pounced, but as her front paws left the ground, her back brushed against a thick poppy stem. Red petals flashed and the mouse whisked into the clover, diving under cover so thick that the cat lost sight of its tiny brown body. She plunged in her paws, patting the ground crossly, claws plucking but finding nothing but earth and roots.

Mouse dung!

“Bad luck.”

The apprentice spun around as a deep mew sounded behind her. She blinked at the broad-shouldered tom gazing at her. His muzzle was scarred, and when he lifted a paw to flick away a fly, his long, hooked claws glinted in the sun.

“I-is this your field?” she mewed nervously.

“I visit here, just as you do,” the tom replied. He rested his paw on the ground and cocked his head.

“This is the first time I’ve been here,” she admitted.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come,” purred the tom. “It gets lonely sometimes.”

“Do you live nearby?”

The tom didn’t answer, but nodded toward the patch of clover where the mouse had disappeared. “Too bad you lost it,” he commented. “I could show you how to pounce without arching your back, if you like.”

She nodded shyly. This tom didn’t smell like a Clan cat, though he was as smooth pelted and tightly muscled as any warrior. His scent was strange and reminded her of walking in the forest at night.

“Watch this.” Crouching, the tom leaped forward, skimming the ground, keeping his back smooth and straight as he landed so that only his flank grazed the overhanging stems without disturbing them.

The apprentice watched wide-eyed.

“You try it.” The tom nodded to a knot of moss. “Aim for that.”

The she-cat nodded and squatted down, ready to pounce. Wriggling her hindquarters, she bunched her muscles and sprang, but she skimmed the ground too closely and came to a skidding halt before her front paws reached the moss.

“Try again,” the tom coaxed.

Again the apprentice pounced, this time keeping farther off the ground, but when she tried to flatten her spine she lost her balance and landed clumsily, stumbling to one side and sending shivers through the grass.

“Again,” came the quiet encouragement.

Thinking hard this time, the apprentice backed up, stared at the moss, and let awareness of every muscle spread through her body. Then she jumped, raking the ground, curving her body to weave around the stems before landing perfectly, the ball of moss falling between her paws as naturally as if StarClan had placed it for her.

“Wow!” She sat up, pleased with herself. “I’ll show my sister that move.”

The tom looked around. “Is she here?”

The apprentice shook her head. “It’s just me.” She frowned, aware how strange it felt to be here alone, without the company of her littermate. “Maybe I can bring her next time.”

The tom looked quizzical. “Don’t you like to do things by yourself?”

The apprentice shook her head. “It’s much more fun with two.”

“Well, there are two of us.” His blue gaze reached intently into hers. “Is that okay?”

She nodded.

“I could show you a stalking technique, if you like,” the tom offered.

“I know all the basic ones,” the she-cat told him.

“I bet you haven’t seen this one.” He crouched down and began to draw himself forward, chin stretched out, whiskers drawn back so that he weaved through the grass like a snake. Suddenly his muzzle darted forward, and he grasped a flower stem in his jaws so quickly that the apprentice gasped.

“That was so fast!”

“Good for catching fish.”

“Fish?”

“Mice too,” the tom added. “Any prey that’s quick.”

“Can I try?”

“Of course.”

As she flattened herself to the ground, the tom sat up and wrapped his bushy tail over his paws.

“What’s your sister like?” he asked.

The apprentice was focusing on a long blade of grass a tail-length ahead. “She’s clever,” she mewed, pulling herself slowly forward. “And funny.” She crept closer to the grass. “And the bravest cat I know.” With a lunge, she snapped at the grass stem, grabbing it in her jaws before spitting it out, coughing. “Yuck! Bitter!”

The tom purred. “I suppose you mean the grass, not your sister.”

“Of course!”

A faint yowl drifted across the meadow. A cat was calling.

The she-cat turned her head. “I’ve got to go now.” She started to pad toward the voice, the grass stroking her back.

The tom called after her, “Don’t you want to know my name?”

The apprentice turned, blinking.

“I’m Hawkfrost.”

“Good-bye, Hawkfrost.” The name felt strange on her tongue.

“Aren’t you going to tell me yours?”

“Oh, yes. It’s Ivypaw.”

Ivypaw shook herself awake, surprised to feel chilly air around her muzzle after the warmth of her dream. Cinderheart was peering through the den entrance. “Ivypaw!” she hissed.

Dovepaw was still asleep, tired after the Gathering, and Cinderheart was clearly trying not to wake her. But Blossompaw’s, Briarpaw’s, and Bumblepaw’s nests were all empty.

Dazed from her dream, Ivypaw hauled herself to her paws. “Coming!” She picked her way on half-numb legs past Dovepaw’s nest and padded out into the damp dawn air. Briarpaw and her littermates were pacing the clearing, Blossompaw mumbling under her breath as though running through answers while Bumblepaw kept stopping to crouch and pounce.

Ivypaw remembered through the haze of her dream that today was their final assessment. Mist hung in the camp, shrouding the dens so they looked eerie and far away. The dawn sky was obscured by thick, dark clouds.

Ivypaw shivered. “What did you want?” she asked Cinderheart.

Her mentor was already halfway across the clearing, heading to where Hazeltail, Mousewhisker, and Thornclaw sat like stones, eyeing their apprentices with anxious interest.

Ivypaw glanced up, past the rocky walls of the hollow and the trees crowding the rim. The clouds were darker than ever. There would be rain before long. Ivypaw shuddered. Why couldn’t she have lingered longer in her dream meadow with Hawkfrost?

“The assessment will be carried out in pairs this time,” Cinderheart told Ivypaw. “We need you to pair up with Blossompaw.”

“No way!” Blossompaw’s horrified mew took Ivypaw by surprise. “She’s not properly trained! Can’t I have Dovepaw? At least she can hunt.”

Ivypaw glared at the tortoiseshell-and-white cat. “I know how to hunt!” Hawkfrost had just taught her two new moves!

“You’ve hardly caught more than a mouse!” Blossompaw complained. “Dovepaw’s brilliant! She can hear prey anywhere!”

Self-conscious and disappointed, Ivypaw felt her shoulders begin to sink.

You’re just as good as your sister.

The words rang in her head. Another voice, not here, though she couldn’t place it. She straightened up and lifted her chin. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “Besides, you’re the one being assessed, not me.”

“Well said, Ivypaw.” Hazeltail padded through the mist and stood beside her apprentice. “Ivypaw is doing you a favor,” she scolded Blossompaw. “You should be doing the work, not her.”

The warriors’ den rustled as Dustpelt and Spiderleg padded out. “Are we ready to go?” Spiderleg asked, yawning.

Cinderheart nodded. “You’ll be assessing Bumblepaw with Hazeltail,” she informed him. “I’ll help Mousewhisker with Briarpaw. Dustpelt, you and Thornclaw can assess Blossompaw.”

Hazeltail looked surprised. “So we’re not assessing our own apprentices?”

“Firestar wants us to try a different way,” Cinderheart reminded the small gray-and-white she-cat.

“Firestar has a new training technique every moon these days,” Thornclaw muttered, padding toward the entrance. “This is pointless,” he growled. “By the time we’ve figured out this way of training, Firestar will have come up with something else.” He disappeared through the tunnel, the mist closing after him.

“Come on,” Cinderheart urged.

Ivypaw hurried after Blossompaw and her littermates as they pushed their way out of the camp.

“You two will hunt by the lake,” Cinderheart announced. She signaled to Briarpaw and Bumblepaw with her tail and the apprentices darted away, heading for the shore. Cinderheart looked at Ivypaw. “Be careful,” she warned. “Don’t forget you’re just helping. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

Except that I’m as good a hunter as my sister. Wait till they see what I learned in my dream!

Ivypaw dug her claws into the soft, damp earth as she watched Cinderheart trot toward the lake with Mousewhisker, Hazeltail, and Spiderleg, quickening their pace as their apprentices hared off, clearly keen to make their first catch.

“Where are we hunting?” Blossompaw asked Dustpelt.

Dustpelt glanced questioningly at Thornclaw. “The abandoned Twolegplace?”

The golden brown warrior nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Blossompaw flicked Ivypaw’s flank with her tail-tip. “Come on.” She pelted into the trees and Ivypaw raced after her, wishing she had longer legs as the older apprentice gathered speed and leaped the ruts and gullies in easy strides.

She was panting by the time she spotted the cracked stones of the abandoned Twolegplace. Blossompaw was waiting on the wall surrounding the tumbledown nest. “You can’t even keep up,” she scoffed.

“We’re supposed to be showing them we can work together,” Ivypaw snapped.

“Like I’m going to give you the chance to hold me back.” Blossompaw jumped down from the wall and headed past the plants Jayfeather had carefully nurtured. The scent of them made Ivypaw’s mouth water, but she knew the warning given to every Clan cat: Stay away from the catmint. It was the only cure for greencough, and more precious than poppy seeds.

As she disappeared around the corner of the wall, Blossompaw called over her shoulder, “Just stay out of my way!”

Ivypaw’s heart quickened with rage. How come everyone thought Dovepaw was so great and she was just a mouse-brain? I’ll show them!

She padded past the wall and ducked into the echoing Twoleg den. A jagged stone slope rose up to a hole in the roof and she scooted up it and peeked through a gap in the wall at the top. Blossompaw was tracking something in the unkempt grass below. Ivypaw couldn’t see what, but the tortoiseshell apprentice was moving intently through the tangled weeds.

Suddenly Ivypaw spotted movement at the bottom of the wall. Peering to see what it was, she pushed away a wave of dizziness, then turned and pelted down the jagged slope, the neatly cornered stones a blur beneath her paws. Treading lightly but fast, she nipped out of the nest and darted around the corner. There it was! A squirrel, rummaging in the plants at the bottom of the wall.

Remembering Hawkfrost’s instructions, she crouched down, keeping her back low so that it didn’t brush the branches arching from the rocks.

The squirrel was busy feasting on seeds it had shaken from a clump of dried-up flowers. Ivypaw slowed, preparing, letting awareness spread through her muscles, then sprang, flattening her back as she swerved around the plants. Her paws reached the squirrel with a curling swipe before it could see her and she grasped it and nipped it with a single killing bite.

Thanks, Hawkfrost!

“Impressive!” Thornclaw’s mew startled her and she swung around, the squirrel dangling from her jaws. The warrior was trotting toward her with Dustpelt on his tail.

“Where did you learn that move?” Dustpelt asked, his eyes wide. “You looked like you were hooking a fish out of water!”

Ivypaw gazed back innocently. There was no reason she had to give away her secret. “I guess it was just…instinct.”

The tall weeds beside them swished and Blossompaw came stomping out. “What’s all the noise about?” she spat. “I was stalking a rat and you scared it away!”

Dustpelt tipped his head to one side. “Weren’t you helping to catch this squirrel?”

“I thought you were working in pairs,” Thornclaw added.

Blossompaw bristled. “She was supposed to be helping me, not the other way around.”

You told me to stay out of the way! Ivypaw glared at her denmate but kept her mouth shut.

“Then why was she here while you were trawling through the undergrowth?” Dustpelt queried. “You’re supposed to be organizing a hunting pair. You should have told her where you wanted her.”

“Okay,” Blossompaw huffed. She flicked her tail at Ivypaw. “Come with me.” Turning, she pushed her way back into the jungle of weeds.

Ivypaw dropped the squirrel and flashed a rueful glance at the two warriors before following.

“What did you have to show me up for?” Blossompaw hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “This is my assessment, remember?”

“Okay, then.” Ivypaw was still feeling pleased from her catch. “What do you want me to do?”

Blossompaw nodded toward the pine trees on the far side of the abandoned Twoleg nest. “We’ll hunt in there.”

They padded between the trunks. The crowded trees blocked the daylight, which was dull anyway. Ivypaw could taste the coming rain. Wisps of mist still lingered, but little undergrowth thrived here and it was easy to spot prey.

“There!” Blossompaw hissed.

A blackbird was rooting along the needle-strewn floor. There was no cover to hide their approach, but if they worked as a team, they might be able to trap it between them.

“Perfect,” Blossompaw murmured. “You head that way; I’ll come at it from the other side.” She nodded Ivypaw away, adding, “Keep low, and don’t drag your paws.”

“I’m not a kit!” Ivypaw hissed back.

Before Blossompaw could give her any more obvious instructions, she crept fast between the trees, keeping down but not letting her belly or tail brush the floor. She fixed her eyes on the blackbird, not allowing her gaze to stray even when trees passed between her and their quarry. It had hold of a worm and was struggling to drag it out of the ground.

Blossompaw’s pelt flashed at the edge of Ivypaw’s vision. She ignored it, padding closer and closer until she was only a few tail-lengths from the bird. Then she halted. This is Blossompaw’s assessment, she reminded herself, fighting the urge to pounce. She knew she could get it, with Hawkfrost’s lesson still fresh in her mind.

Where was Blossompaw? The blackbird was winning the struggle with the worm. It would fly away any moment. Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. Perhaps she should catch it, just to make sure. She began to waggle her haunches, ready to leap.

A flash of tortoiseshell fur made her freeze as Blossompaw flew at the bird, paws outstretched, hind legs hitting the ground a moment too early. She managed to clasp the blackbird in her forepaws but there was no grace in the catch. The blackbird struggled, frantic wings battering the earth and sending pine needles flying while Blossompaw regained her balance enough to make the killing bite.

Hawkfrost would have sneered at such a clumsy catch. For a moment the scent of night washed over Ivypaw’s tongue, bringing a vivid image of the warrior tom to her mind and the dark forest musk that clung to his thick pelt.

Was he a StarClan cat? Had he come especially to teach her?

Dovepaw has never been visited by StarClan! Ivypaw felt a prick of satisfaction. She would have told me.

Rain began to patter on the canopy high overhead as Dustpelt and Thornclaw caught up. Dustpelt was carrying Ivypaw’s squirrel. He dropped it and nodded toward the blackbird. “Nicely caught.”

Thornclaw shrugged. “Whatever Firestar says, I don’t see the point of hunting in pairs. Blossompaw would have caught it if Ivypaw were somewhere else catching her own prey.” He snorted. “Seems like a waste of warriors.” He glanced up as the rain grew heavier and began to drip through the branches. It splashed on his nose, making him sneeze.

“Come on,” he meowed, shaking his head. “I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s get back to camp before the downpour starts.”

Blossompaw lashed her tail. “But I’ve only caught one bird!”

The rain began to pound through the trees until the pine needles bounced on the forest floor.

“We’ve seen enough,” Thornclaw repeated. He flicked his tail toward the squirrel. “You may as well carry your own catch,” he told Ivypaw.

Pleased at the thought of walking into camp carrying such a fat piece of prey, Ivypaw grasped the squirrel in her jaws and began to head through the trees.

By the time they reached the thorn barrier, the forest was drenched. Ivypaw could hardly see her Clanmates through the fog of rain. Her paws squelched on the muddy forest floor, each sucking pawstep filling with water behind her. After so many moons of drought, the elders couldn’t complain now. There was enough water to fill the lake even if every stream dried up.

Blossompaw trotted past Ivypaw, quickening her pace to enter camp first, and tripped on the wing of the blackbird. “Fox dung!” She cursed through her mouthful of feathers. “One wretched bird while you have to catch a squirrel!” She glared at Ivypaw. “If I fail this assessment, it’s all your fault.”

She ducked into the tunnel, leaving Ivypaw startled. At the start of the morning Blossompaw had been complaining that she’d be no help. Now she was upset because Ivypaw had been too much help.

Ivypaw dragged the squirrel through the thorn tunnel. Whitewing and Millie hurried to greet them.

“You’re the first back,” Millie meowed.

Whitewing’s eyes glowed with pride as she gazed at the squirrel hanging in her daughter’s jaws. “Well done!”

Millie glanced at Blossompaw’s blackbird. “You two obviously work well together.”

Yeah, right!

Ivypaw lifted her chin to keep the squirrel out of the mud as she carried it to the fresh-kill pile.

Dovepaw ducked out from the apprentices’ den, her shoulders hunched against the battering rain. “Great catch!” she called. “It’s nearly as big as you!”

“Thanks.” Pride rushed through Ivypaw as she dropped the squirrel beside Blossompaw’s blackbird. She wanted to tell Dovepaw about Hawkfrost. She glanced around the clearing. Millie and Graystripe were crowding around Blossompaw to find out how the assessment had gone, while Thornclaw and Dustpelt sheltered beneath Highledge, conferring with Firestar.

“Come with me.” Ivypaw beckoned with her tail before scooting toward the thorns.

“Why?” Dovepaw sounded puzzled as she hurried after her. “What’s going on?”

Wait till she hears how a StarClan cat taught me how to hunt!

Ivypaw was bubbling with excitement. She slid through the tunnel and waited in the clearing outside, pummeling the muddy earth impatiently till Dovepaw caught up.

“What is it?” Dovepaw’s eyes were wide.

Ivypaw glanced around, making sure no cat was listening. “A StarClan cat came to see me,” she breathed.

“When?” Dovepaw blinked away raindrops.

“In my dream!” Ivypaw explained. “He was teaching me how to hunt!”

Dovepaw leaned closer. “Tell me more.”

Suddenly Ivypaw felt self-conscious. Did Dovepaw believe her or was she humoring her? Perhaps it had just been an ordinary dream. “This cat…” She fumbled for words. “He taught me some new hunting moves….”

Dovepaw was staring at her. “Who was it?”

“It was…”

The undergrowth shivered. “What are you doing out here?” Brightheart burst from a clump of ferns, panting. She was clearly racing for the shelter of the hollow. “You’ll catch your death!” She circled them, pressing them toward the thorn tunnel. “Inside, both of you! What would Whitewing say? Or Jayfeather? We don’t want to start leaf-bare with a medicine den full of sneezing apprentices!”

Sparking with frustration, Ivypaw allowed herself to be herded into camp. Praying the apprentices’ den would be empty, she headed straight for it, beckoning to Dovepaw. Her sister kept close as they slipped into the dry den and shook the rain from their fur.

Ivypaw turned and started to explain about Hawkfrost. “He was a warrior….”

“Dovepaw!” Lionblaze was calling through the den wall.

Ivypaw unsheathed her claws. Can’t he wait?

“Sorry.” Dovepaw looked apologetic as she backed outside. Ivypaw ripped a pawful of bracken from her nest and flung it down. Dovepaw was always racing off to talk to warriors without her. Didn’t she care about her? And since when did the least experienced cats run the Clan? Couldn’t Lionblaze manage a few moments without his precious apprentice?

The yew bush shivered as Blossompaw, Briarpaw, and Bumblepaw came bouncing in, water spraying from their pelts. “We passed! We passed!”

“Great!” Ivypaw slunk into her nest. “Congratulations!” She closed her eyes, blocking her ears to the mews of excitement as her denmates congratulated one another. If she went to sleep, Hawkfrost might teach her some more hunting moves until she wasn’t just as good as her sister—she was better. Then the Clan might start paying some attention to her as well.

CHAPTER 11

Rain dripped at the mouth of Firestar’s den. As Jayfeather slid in, he brought a scattering of raindrops with him. Lionblaze shuffled closer to Dovepaw.

“Any news?” Firestar asked. He glanced uneasily at his den entrance, as though he was afraid they would be disturbed.

Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Dovepaw shook their heads.

“No word from StarClan,” Jayfeather mewed.

“No more ShadowClan scents on our side of the border,” Lionblaze reported.

“Dovepaw?” The ThunderClan leader gazed at the pale gray apprentice. “Have you sensed anything?”

She stared at her paws. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

Lionblaze guessed she was uncomfortable being used as a spy. It seemed that, while Jayfeather secretly relished being able to creep into other cats’ minds, Dovepaw wasn’t used to following her senses farther than any ordinary cat could go.

She’d better get used to it. She’d been given her power for a reason.

“ShadowClan is up to something,” Firestar warned. “Border incursions are bad enough, but telling lies about them is low, even for ShadowClan.”

“They’ve always been sneaky,” Lionblaze reminded him.

“We must be even more vigilant,” Firestar growled.

“Extra border patrols?” Jayfeather suggested.

Firestar shook his head. “They’ll see it as provocation.”

Outside, the haze of rain that had obscured the camp all morning was lifting; sunshine was arcing into the hollow. But the gale that had blown the clouds away was roaring through the forest and buffeting the dens. It whined at the den entrance.

Lionblaze noticed Dovepaw stiffen. “It’s just the wind,” he murmured.

She shook her head, her eyes widening. “There’s something else.”

Lionblaze leaned closer. He recognized the distant look in her eyes. “What?”

“A sucking noise.” Fear lit her gaze. “Roots.” Her breath quickened. “Roots coming out of the ground.” She stared directly at Lionblaze. “A tree is falling. One of the trees at the top of the hollow.” Her shrill mew echoed around the cave. “Clear the camp!”

Firestar was on his paws in a moment. “Is it true?” he asked Lionblaze.

“It’s true.” Lionblaze had no doubt that Dovepaw was describing something real. “We’ve got to get everyone out.”

He pelted out of the cave, taking the rockfall in three bounds. “Everyone leave the camp!” he screeched. The wind howled around him, almost drowning his words.

Faces peeped out from the den entrances. Dustpelt and Brightheart, who had been picking through the fresh-kill pile, spun around.

“What’s going on?” Alarm filled Dustpelt’s call.

“A tree is falling!” Lionblaze stared up at the rim of the hollow, trying to spot the tree that was losing its grip on the rain-drenched earth. The whole forest was swaying in the gale. It was impossible to tell if one was about to crash down onto the camp. “Clear the dens!”

Brambleclaw skidded from the warriors’ den as Firestar scrambled down the rocks from Highledge. “You heard him!” Firestar yowled. “Clear the camp!”

Brambleclaw headed straight for the nursery.

Firestar nodded to Dustpelt. “Apprentices’ den.” He turned to Brightheart. “Elders’ den.”

Jayfeather raced over the clearing. “The medicine den’s empty.”

“Double-check it!” Firestar ordered. He turned to Lionblaze. “You check the warriors’ den; I’ll check the rest of the camp.” The ThunderClan leader pelted past the warriors’ den as warriors began to stream out.

Lionblaze pushed his way in between Thornclaw, Foxleap, and Toadstep as they crowded through the entrance, ripping it wide in their rush to escape. Frantically he began searching the dark thornbush. “Hurry up!” he snapped at Cloudtail, who was stretching in his nest.

The white warrior blinked sleepily at him. “What’s happening?”

“Just go!” Lionblaze ordered. “Get every cat out of camp!”

He weaved through the nests, reassuring himself that each one was empty, then darted outside. The Clan was bunched together at the entrance to the tunnel through the barrier of thorns.

Brambleclaw stood at the nursery entrance, pulling Ferncloud by the scruff as she squeezed through the brambles after Daisy. He ducked inside, then hopped out. “Nursery clear!”

Poppyfrost was running for the tunnel with Molekit swinging in her jaws. Cherrykit sprawled on the ground behind her, wailing, her eyes glazed in terror. Daisy scooped her up and headed after Poppyfrost.

“Apprentices’ den clear!” Dustpelt’s yowl rang across the clearing.

“Warriors’ den empty!” Lionblaze called.

“No one in the medicine den!” Jayfeather’s fur was barbed with prickers from the brambly entrance.

Firestar emerged from behind the nursery. “Perimeter clear!” He charged over to Brambleclaw, who was guiding his Clanmates through the barrier. “Slow down!” he ordered as Rosepetal slipped and Brackenfur tripped over her.

Lionblaze glanced at the elders’ den. Brightheart hadn’t made her report yet.

Purdy was plucking anxiously at the ground outside the entrance. “Hurry up!” he hissed through the honeysuckle.

Why were they dawdling?

“Dovepaw!” Lionblaze caught sight of his apprentice. She was circling the clearing, staring up at the rim of the hollow. “Which tree is it?” he demanded.

“I don’t know!” Terror filled her mew. “I can hear its roots slipping through the earth. It’s the rain. Too much rain! It’s loosened the roots!”

Ivypaw paused beside the halfrock and stared at her sister, bewildered. “Get out of the camp!”

“I can’t go till I’m sure!”

Ivypaw blinked. “Sure of what?”

“Which one is falling!”

“Why in the name of StarClan do you need to know?”

Lionblaze lashed his tail. “It doesn’t matter which one!” he screeched. “Just get out of the hollow! Both of you!”

As the two apprentices scooted from the clearing, he turned back to the elders’ den. Still no sign of Longtail, Brightheart, or Mousefur. He pelted for the den, skidding past Purdy, and ducked inside. “What’s going on?”

Brightheart was staring in panic at Mousefur.

Mousefur glared back at her indignantly. “If I leave my bed, the moss will get wet!”

Longtail was thrusting his muzzle under his denmate’s flank. “Just get up!” he urged. “We’ll get dry moss when we come back.”

“Where are we going to find dry moss?” Mousefur objected. “It’s been raining all moon!”

Fury surged through Lionblaze. “Get out!” His order barked like cracking wood, and Mousefur jumped to her paws, gazing at him in shock.

“Get out!” he repeated, unsheathing his claws. He wasn’t going to let this stubborn old cat die for the sake of a dry bed!

Brightheart rolled her eyes thankfully as Mousefur headed for the entrance. She nudged Longtail, herding them both through the trailing honeysuckle and into the clearing.

Lionblaze darted after them. The camp was empty apart from the elders hobbling across the clearing. He stared around the top of the hollow, wondering again which tree was falling, praying that Dovepaw had overreacted, though his gut told him she was right.

As Brightheart and Purdy steered Longtail and Mousefur through the tunnel, Firestar and Brambleclaw barged back in. Dovepaw slid in after them, her fur on end.

“Is the camp clear?” Firestar demanded.

Lionblaze nodded.

Brambleclaw darted from one den to another, poking his head in.

Dovepaw’s ears were pricked. “It’s clear,” she assured them.

“Come on, then,” Firestar ordered. “Let’s join the Clan. They’re sheltering along the gully on the way to the lake.” He glanced at Dovepaw. “You’re sure they’ll be safe there?”

Dovepaw was looking up to the top of the cliff that overhung Highledge. “It’s falling!” she whispered.

She knows which tree it is. Lionblaze followed her gaze to a tall beech that still had nearly all its leaves. He could see the danger clearly now. The wind kept tearing at the tree’s heavy branches as it began to slip from the earth and slide toward the rim of the hollow.

“Come on!” Firestar insisted. He prodded Dovepaw toward the entrance. Lionblaze ran across the clearing and followed her out, Brambleclaw and Firestar on his tail. As he ran, Lionblaze glimpsed the pelts of his Clanmates through the trees, huddling in the gully several tree-lengths from the entrance to the hollow. Then he spotted Mousefur stumbling toward him. She was trying to dodge back into the camp.

Longtail stood in her way. “Leave the mouse! We can catch another.”

“I’m not wasting prey!” Mousefur growled. “It’s an insult to StarClan!”

“Then I’ll get it!”

Before Lionblaze could stop him, Longtail had darted back through the thorn barrier.

Briarpaw raced after him, a blur of dark brown fur. “Come back! It’s not safe!”

Lionblaze slowed to a halt and spun around. He pelted after Longtail and Briarpaw. “The tree’s going to fall!” he shrieked, tearing through the thorns in time to see Longtail and Briarpaw disappear into the elders’ den. “Get out!”

His yowl was smothered by a great creaking roar from the top of the hollow. With a deafening crack, the beech toppled over the rim and hurtled down the cliff. Its branches scraped the rocky walls like claws, showering thorn-sharp stones over the camp. Lionblaze shrank back against the barrier, shards of rock raining around him, terror pulsing through him as the clearing disappeared under a storm of flailing branches. He flattened his ears against the snapping, splintering wood and watched, frozen in horror, as the honeysuckle den caved under a tangle of branches. With a wrenching crunch, the beech trunk hit the ground and split like a shattered bone.

He felt a pelt trembling next to his. Dovepaw was beside him, mouth open, eyes so wide he could see their white rims.

“Briarpaw,” she breathed.

Lionblaze charged toward the den, slithering through the tangle of branches, clambering over the ripped wood. He could hardly see the honeysuckle underneath the fallen beech. The tree was half propped against the far side of the hollow, its muddy roots reaching like talons around the nursery. Half the warriors’ den was gone, and branches obscured the entrance to the medicine den.

“Wait!”

Lionblaze halted when he heard Firestar’s yowl. He turned, balancing on the jagged end of a shattered branch.

The ThunderClan leader was clambering after him, Dovepaw following on shaky paws.

“Can you hear anything?” Firestar asked.

“No.” Lionblaze glanced at Dovepaw.

The gray apprentice shook her head. “Nothing.”

“They still might be alive.” Firestar leaped past Lionblaze and began to wriggle through the fluttering golden leaves toward the flattened den. Lionblaze struggled after him, wincing as the jagged wood scraped his pelt.

The tree creaked.

“It’s not safe!” Dovepaw’s wail sounded behind them.

Lionblaze felt the tree move around him.

“It’s slipping down the side of the hollow,” Dovepaw warned.

“I can see a shape,” Firestar called from inside the debris.

Lionblaze squirmed deeper into the snarled branches, feeling a surge of hope as a honeysuckle tendril snaked out, whipping him across the muzzle. “Who is it?”

“I can’t tell,” Firestar called back. “But I think it’s moving.”

“The whole tree’s moving!” Dovepaw shrieked. “Get out of there!”

With a groaning, scraping sigh, the beech began to slide down the wall of the hollow.

“Out!” Firestar ordered sharply.

Lionblaze hesitated. He couldn’t leave his Clanmates! He yelped as teeth clamped around his tail.

“It’s collapsing!” Dovepaw’s mew was muffled by fur as she dragged him backward and the tree shivered beneath his paws. Firestar was scrambling out beside him.

“Jump!” Dovepaw yowled.

The three cats hurled themselves onto an empty patch of ground beside the apprentices’ den. Behind them, the tree groaned and dropped down, its branches caving beneath it as crumpled into the base of the hollow.

Dovepaw let out a whimper.

Lionblaze strained to see the elders’ den. Strands of honeysuckle snaked among the branches. There was still a chance that part of the den wasn’t crushed.

“Firestar?” Brambleclaw was crossing the wreckage toward them. As he jumped down beside them, Lionblaze saw the rest of the Clan streaming back into camp. They barged through the barrier of thorns until it was as tattered and wrecked as the rest of the camp.

“Stop!” Firestar yowled at his Clanmates.

They froze and stared at the ruins of their home. Leafpool closed her eyes, as though praying to StarClan.

“Where’s the camp?” Cherrykit mewled.

Daisy bent to comfort the kit as Poppyfrost stared blankly at the fallen tree. “It’s gone,” she breathed.

“It’s still there,” Firestar growled. “We just need to stay calm.”

“Where’s Longtail?” Purdy asked shakily.

“Briarpaw?” Millie’s mew cracked.

“I’m going to find them!” Lionblaze promised, bracing himself to force his way through the smashed branches. If he thought of the tree as an enemy in battle, would that protect him from getting hurt?

Firestar turned to his deputy. “Brambleclaw, I want a patrol to clear a way to the elders’ den and I want the rest of the Clan outside the hollow and taken care of.”

Brambleclaw studied the tree. “We’ll need to clear the branches we can move and prop up the ones we can’t.” He called to Dustpelt, “How many warriors will you need to do that?”

Dustpelt narrowed his eyes. “Four,” he meowed. “Any more would get in the way.”

Lionblaze remembered how they had destroyed the dam. “We could use logs to lever the heaviest branches out of the way.”

Squirrelflight stepped forward. “I’ll organize a team to find logs and props.” She glanced at her Clanmates. “Millie, Brackenfur, Birchfall, and Thornclaw, you can help me.”

“Sorreltail, Graystripe, Cloudtail, and Berrynose.” Dustpelt nodded to his denmates. “Come with me.”

Lionblaze stiffened as he heard a faint mewl from where the elders’ den had been. “There’s definitely a cat still alive in there.”

Firestar nodded. “Then there’s not a moment to lose.” He flicked his tail at Whitewing. “Get everyone else back to the gully. Jayfeather, do what you can to treat any cat with shock. Daisy, I’m putting you in charge of the elders, queens, and kits. Keep them calm.” He nodded at Brambleclaw. “Work with Dustpelt and Squirrelflight.”

Mousefur paced back and forth, a wail sobbing in her throat. “This is my fault! I should be buried under there, not Longtail!”

Purdy weaved around her, steering her away through the shredded thorns. “They’ll find him,” he promised.

Dovepaw was shaking from nose to tail-tip. “Why didn’t I hear it earlier? I could have stopped this!”

Firestar glanced at the horror-stricken apprentice, then called softly to Whitewing. “Take Dovepaw with you. Make sure she’s okay.”

Gently, the white warrior led her kit out of the camp.

Blood pulsed in Lionblaze’s ears. He wanted to launch himself back among the tangle of branches and haul Longtail and Briarpaw out. But how? Even if he found them, how would he get the two cats past the shattered branches without hurting them?

Dustpelt was already nosing around the edge of the beech. Reaching up with his forepaws, he snapped the first branch out of the way.

Squirrelflight hurried to his side and grabbed the branch in her paws. “We can use this as a prop.”

Dustpelt pushed deeper into the tree, forcing an arching bough up with his back long enough for Squirrelflight to wedge her branch underneath.

“Briarpaw!” Millie wailed into the gap. “Longtail?”

Sorreltail and Thornclaw shoved her away as they squeezed after Dustpelt, snapping branches where they could, propping others out of the way. Graystripe plunged in beside them, claws fraying as he ripped at the mangled beech wood.

“Briarpaw!” Brackenfur rolled a log toward a heavy bough, and while Birchfall and Cloudtail levered it up with a long splinter of wood, he pushed the log underneath. The beech creaked, but stayed still. They were making progress.

“Longtail? Can you hear me?” Lionblaze peered down the tunnel that was beginning to form.

No answer.

Tendrils of honeysuckle shivered tantalizingly beyond the tangle of branches still blocking their way. Lionblaze turned to see his brother behind him, blind blue eyes glittering with worry.

“I need to get to my den,” Jayfeather meowed.

Branches blocked the entrance.

“Poppyfrost’s in shock and Mousefur is beside herself with worry. And if you get Longtail and Briarpaw out alive, I’ll need to treat them.”

“Can’t you gather fresh herbs?” Lionblaze suggested.

Jayfeather’s eyes blazed. “It’s leaf-fall! There are no fresh herbs!”

Firestar turned away from helping Dustpelt roll a log. “Fetch Rosepetal,” he ordered. “She’s skinny like her father.” It was true. She had the same lithe body as Spiderleg. “She might be able to find a way through.” He cast a glance at the branches blocking the cave. “It’s a mess, but there may be enough gaps.”

Jayfeather turned and hurried away.

“Lionblaze!” Squirrelflight was trying to wedge a forked branch into place.

Lionblaze scooted over and helped her to push. The tree seemed to sigh as they lodged the branch under the trunk.

“We’re nearly at the elders’ den,” Dustpelt announced. His pelt was threaded with splinters, and blood oozed from his paws.

Lionblaze looked down the tunnel to the last pair of branches blocking their way. “I can push my way through.”

“Do it,” ordered Firestar. “We’ll shift them while you’re inside so that you can get Longtail and Briarpaw out.”

Millie and Graystripe stood side by side, looking past the rescue operation at the crumpled honeysuckle. Their daughter was somewhere in the wreckage.

“Please, StarClan,” whispered Millie. “Let her be okay.”

“She’ll be fine,” Firestar vowed, his eyes dark.

Jayfeather raced back with Rosepetal. As he passed Millie and Graystripe, Lionblaze noticed him stiffen as though he’d stepped on a thorn. He can feel their grief.

Rosepetal was peering through the fractured branches into the medicine den. “I can get through,” she announced. Paws first, she wriggled between the spars, grunting a little as her hind legs and tail disappeared into the golden leaves. “What do you want me to get?” she called out.

While Jayfeather began to describe the herbs he would need, Lionblaze padded down the tunnel toward the honeysuckle bush. His heart was pounding and he could feel Graystripe’s and Millie’s worried gazes on his pelt. What if he found only dead bodies? He pushed away the thought and shouldered his way past the two remaining branches. The bark tore his fur as he squeezed his way through, hope pricking as he felt soft honeysuckle tendrils beneath his paws. Delving into the crushed heap, he squirmed into what was left of the elders’ den.

A tiny space opened up in front of him. Only Mousefur’s nest remained; the others were hidden underneath shattered branches.

Then he saw the body.

Twisted. Limp. Lifeless.

As he stared, stiff with grief, Dustpelt squeezed in beside him.

“We’ve cleared the last two branches,” the tabby warrior began. His voice trailed away when he saw the body. “Longtail.” The name caught in his throat.

With a strange choking feeling in his throat, Lionblaze lifted the pale tabby elder by the scruff and dragged him from what was left of the den. The old cat was light as a squirrel in his jaws as Lionblaze pulled him through the tunnel and laid him on the bare ground.

Firestar dipped his head while Graystripe pressed close to Millie.

“Did you see Briarpaw?” the gray warrior whispered.

As Lionblaze shook his head, Dustpelt called from inside the den, “She’s alive! Quick!”

Lionblaze dashed back with Graystripe pressing on his tail. As they raced along the makeshift tunnel, an ominous snap cracked the air. A prop snapped beside them, spraying splinters. The tree shivered as another prop broke.

“It’s not going to hold!” Millie’s terrified mew wailed behind them.

Ignoring her, Lionblaze ducked into the remains of the elders’ den. Graystripe squashed in beside him. Dustpelt was crouching on Mousefur’s nest, his muzzle probing a branch where the beech had crushed the honeysuckle into a mangled mass of tendrils. As Lionblaze slid in beside the tabby tom he saw Briarpaw looking up at him, her face twisted with pain.

“I can’t move,” she croaked.

Her hind legs were pinned. She screeched as the beech trembled again.

Lionblaze tensed at the sound of another prop splintering behind them. “We’ve got to get her out now!”

“How?” Dustpelt gasped. “The tree’s collapsing and she’s trapped.”

“I’ll get her!” Graystripe grabbed her scruff.

As Briarpaw squealed in terror and pain, Lionblaze knocked the gray tom away. “You’ll kill her,” he warned. Without thinking, he pressed his back against a wide branch that spanned the crushed den. Pressing his paws to the ground, he arched his spine, forcing his shoulders up until he felt the whole weight of the tree. The branch shuddered and creaked and began to shift upward.

“Y-you’re moving it!” Dustpelt whispered.

“Grab her now!” Lionblaze panted as he felt the tree move another whisker.

Graystripe leaned forward and grabbed his daughter’s scruff.

“Gently!” Lionblaze warned. The weight on his shoulders was agonizing. But he wouldn’t leave his Clanmate to die. Outside the den, wood splintered and cracked.

“The props are going!” Millie shrieked.

Slowly, carefully, Graystripe drew Briarpaw from under the branch. “I’ve got her,” he mewed through her fur.

Briarpaw whimpered as her father pulled her out.

Dustpelt stared down the tunnel as the pair disappeared.

Lionblaze felt his lungs screaming as he fought for breath, his legs trembling beneath him.

“They’re clear!” Dustpelt reported.

“You go too!” Lionblaze yelped.

Dustpelt scooted away between the branches as the tree groaned and wood splintered.

With a last heaving gasp, Lionblaze ducked out from underneath the branch and dived after Dustpelt. The tree crumpled around him and he shot from the tunnel a moment before the last prop gave way and the tree fell to a shuddering halt, its roots slamming against the nursery. With a heaving crash, its branches flopped to the ground like corpses.

Darkness crowded Lionblaze’s vision as he struggled to catch his breath. His legs shivered but he refused to let them buckle. He waited, letting strength gather within him and spread through his limbs. Then he stretched and blinked the darkness away.

A tail smoothed his back.

“Well done, Lionblaze.” Firestar was at his side.

Graystripe and Millie were crouching beside Briarpaw. Jayfeather grabbed a mouthful of herbs from the pile Rosepetal had passed through the branches. He dropped them next to Briarpaw and began to sniff her limp body.

“Will she be okay?” Millie rasped.

The young cat’s breath was coming in gasps and her eyes were glazed.

“I don’t think she can see us,” Graystripe wailed.

“Out of my way!” Jayfeather scooted around Briarpaw, sniffing her pelt, his eyes narrowed in a frown.

“Longtail?” called a trembling voice. It was Whitewing.

Lionblaze turned and saw the Clan creeping back into the hollow. They padded slowly, edging what was left of the clearing, and sniffing at the remains of their devastated camp. Blossompaw and Bumblepaw broke away and raced to Graystripe and Millie, pressing hard against them.

“Will Briarpaw be okay?” Bumblepaw whimpered.

Mousefur darted from Whitewing’s side and began to circle Longtail’s body. “No, no, no, no, no,” she moaned.

Purdy shuffled close to the old she-cat as she dropped to her belly and pressed her nose into her denmate’s chilly pelt.

Dovepaw and Ivypaw stared in horror at Briarpaw’s unmoving body.

“Is she dead?” Ivypaw whispered.

“Don’t just stand there like rabbits,” Lionblaze snapped. “Go and fetch her some moss. Try to make her comfortable!”

The two cats sprang away and raced from the hollow. They passed Leafpool, who padded through the thorns and halted. Through slitted eyes, she watched Jayfeather work.

Jayfeather lifted his head to face her. “Well?” he snarled. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Leafpool blinked, pain flashing in her eyes. Then her gaze hardened. “What do you want me to do?” She slid in beside Jayfeather and sniffed at Briarpaw.

“Shock’s setting in fast,” Jayfeather reported.

“She needs thyme,” Leafpool instructed. “I’ll make pulp.” She took a mouthful of leaves from the pile and began to chew them.

Jayfeather sat up. “I can’t find where she’s hurt. There’s not a scratch on her.” He sounded perplexed.

Briarpaw’s eyelids flickered. “I-I c-can’t feel my hind legs.”

Jayfeather leaned forward and gently took one leg in his jaws to lift it up. He let go and it dropped to the ground like dead prey. “Is that thyme ready yet?” he called to Leafpool.

“Yes.” She began wiping the pulp around Briarpaw’s lips with her paw. Instinctively Briarpaw licked it off and Leafpool applied more.

Millie was pacing around them, her eyes clouded with grief. “What’s wrong with her?” she begged.

Jayfeather didn’t answer. Instead he glanced up at Lionblaze. “Comfrey, please.”

Lionblaze hurried to the medicine den entrance and called through the branches to Rosepetal, “Jayfeather needs comfrey!”

“I’ve got loads,” Rosepetal meowed back. She began stuffing pawfuls of leaves through the branches.

Lionblaze grabbed a mouthful and carried them to Jayfeather. “Will she be okay?” he whispered.

“Her heartbeat is getting steadier, but her legs…” Jayfeather’s words trailed into a frustrated growl. He flicked Lionblaze away with his tail.

Ferncloud was trying to comfort Graystripe and Millie. “If anyone can save her, Jayfeather can.” She glanced at Jayfeather as he began rubbing a dark green poultice into Briarpaw’s hind legs. “And he’s got Leafpool helping,” she added in a hopeful whisper.

Firestar straightened up. “Dustpelt!” he called. “See if the nursery is secure. We can at least make sure the queens and kits have some shelter.” He glanced around the camp, which was half-hidden by the beech. “The apprentices’ den looks okay.” He nodded to Cloudtail and Squirrelflight. “Check that it’s secure. Then collect bedding. As much as you can find. The elders and queens and kits will sleep inside tonight. But the rest of us will still need nests.”

Squirrelflight nodded and beckoned to Berrynose, Thornclaw, and Brackenfur with her tail before charging out of the camp.

“Should I go with them?” Lionblaze offered.

Firestar gazed at him. “You’ve done enough for the Clan for today,” he murmured. “Thank you. And thank StarClan we have you. If it wasn’t for you, Briarpaw would be dead by now.”

Lionblaze looked at Briarpaw lying on the sodden ground. Leafpool was massaging her chest with a firm paw, her eyes more focused than they had been in moons.

Briarpaw opened her eyes and stared at her father and mother. “Where are my back legs? Are they still there?”

Millie let out a muffled squeak, and the fur rose along Graystripe’s spine. Briarpaw’s hind legs were stretched out behind her, looking just as they always had, strong and glossy. But she couldn’t feel them—and if she couldn’t feel them, she couldn’t stand or walk or run….

A torrent of grief swept through Lionblaze, and for one unbearable moment he wondered if the lively young apprentice would thank him for saving her life.

CHAPTER 12

Jayfeather lifted his head and sniffed the dawn breeze. The air was fresh with the tang of sap from the fallen tree and musty with wet leaves and mud. He felt the warmth of Millie’s pelt against his. The gray queen was wrapped around her kit.

Briarpaw slept on, the poppy seed he’d given her last night still heavy on her breath. He could sense the weight in her limbs and the emptiness of feeling in her hind legs.

Aching with the strain of yesterday’s disaster, he sniffed at his patient, his whiskers brushing over Millie’s pelt as he leaned into Briarpaw’s nest.

Millie raised her head. “How is she?”

“She’s safe from the shock,” he told her. Briarpaw’s heart beat steadily beneath her clammy pelt.

“What about her legs?” Millie’s mew trembled.

“I don’t know.” Jayfeather stifled a growl. He hated being so helpless.

Outside, warriors were moving in the half clearing. Jayfeather could hear Brambleclaw issuing orders.

“Patrols will carry on as normal. We must hunt. Dustpelt, how many cats do you need to help you clear the debris?”

Jayfeather pricked his ears. The wreckage of the beech muted sound. The mews of his Clanmates no longer rang against the rocky walls of the hollow but soaked into the soft mass of sodden branches and leaves.

“Four or five should be enough for the first shift,” Dustpelt answered his deputy resolutely, but Jayfeather felt the sting in the warrior’s paws, raw from yesterday’s work. “Birchfall and Brackenfur? They could start with the bigger branches. Rosepetal and Hazeltail could help with the smaller ones.”

A path had been cleared to the medicine den. The nursery was safe, enfolded in a tangle of beech roots. The apprentices’ den had survived unscathed.

Briarpaw was stirring. As Jayfeather bent to sniff her muzzle he felt her eyelids flicker on his cheek.

“How are you?” he asked gently.

He could feel panic pricking from Millie and tapped her with his tail-tip. Don’t let her smell your fear.

“Don’t know,” Briarpaw answered groggily.

“Any pain?”

“No. Just sleepy.”

“That’s because of the poppy seed.”

“Is that why I can’t feel my hind legs?”

Jayfeather felt Millie’s gaze burning his pelt. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted it to be true.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps once the trauma of the accident had worn off Briarpaw would be up and about, her hind legs fine. After all, he hadn’t felt any breaks in the bones. There was no reason why they shouldn’t work.

“Well?” Briarpaw pressed.

“I think they’re just recovering from the accident a little more slowly than the rest of you,” he told her. “Let’s wait and see. StarClan willing, they’ll wake up before too long.”

Briarpaw hooked her claws into the bracken of her nest. “I hope it’s soon. I’ve just passed my assessment. I can be a warrior now!”

Millie swallowed hard. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “The more you rest, the quicker you’ll recover.”

Briarpaw rested her chin on her paws and within moments her breath deepened into slumber.

Millie followed Jayfeather out of the den. “What’s wrong with her?” she demanded as soon as they were beyond the trailing brambles.

Jayfeather winced as his paw stubbed a branch littering the pathway to his den. The camp had changed shape, distorted by the fallen beech, and he had to pick his way carefully through it, not knowing what might be jutting out, waiting to trip him. He snorted with frustration. The camp had been the one place he could move around without concentrating. Now it was as foreign to him as RiverClan territory.

“What’s wrong with her legs?” Millie pressed as he licked his paw fiercely to ease the pain.

He paused, fixing his gaze on her. He knew that cats listened harder when he looked at them, though it made no difference to him. “I don’t know.”

“You must!” Fear and frustration edged her mew.

Jayfeather was relieved to hear Graystripe’s pawsteps approaching. The gray warrior could comfort his mate.

Graystripe’s fur brushed Millie’s. “No change?” His voice was taut with worry.

“We’re just going to have to wait,” Jayfeather told them. “At least she’s not in pain.”

He began to pad away, his mind whirling. Why couldn’t Briarpaw feel her legs? They were bruised, but not broken. Jayfeather frowned. He’d never come across that before.

“Can we see her?” Graystripe called after him.

“Sitting with her won’t harm her, though she needs her rest,” Jayfeather meowed over his shoulder. “She’s your kit. You’ll know best how to keep her spirits up.”

Jayfeather’s belly growled. The prey pile smelled freshly stocked. He figured that he’d better eat. There hadn’t been time last night. He padded toward it, tasting the familiar scent of Lionblaze, mixed with heavy, wet earth.

Jayfeather plucked a mouse from the stack. “Have you been burying Longtail?” He knew his grief for lost Clanmates was less than that of other cats. He would see Longtail again, free from blindness and aches, basking in the warmth of StarClan’s hunting grounds or sitting with old friends in the ranks of starry-pelted cats who visited the Moonpool.

Briarpaw’s problem upset him more. If her legs didn’t recover, she faced more suffering than he wanted to imagine.

Lionblaze flicked his tail against the ground. “I was helping Mousefur and Purdy. They were tired after sitting vigil all night.” He pushed the blackbird distractedly with a paw. “I sent them to rest in the nursery, but I don’t think Mousefur will sleep. She’s still very agitated.”

“I’ll take her a poppy seed once I’ve eaten,” Jayfeather promised. “Is Dovepaw any calmer?”

“A little.” Concern edged his mew. “She should be proud that she saved so many lives by warning us.”

“She feels the responsibility of looking after the Clan more heavily than ever,” Jayfeather guessed.

“She’s young.” Lionblaze sighed. “And being one of the Three is a great responsibility.”

Jayfeather nodded. He and Lionblaze were older, surer of their abilities, and they still found it hard.

“I’ll take her hunting with Ivypaw this morning,” Lionblaze decided. “I want her to remember what normal Clan life feels like.”

“Good.” As Jayfeather bent to pick up his mouse he heard pattering pawsteps. Blossompaw and Bumblepaw brushed against him.

“Can we see Briarpaw?” Bumblepaw circled anxiously.

“She’s sleeping at the moment,” Jayfeather answered. “But I don’t see why not. She’s not in pain. Company will be as good a medicine as any.”

The two young cats hurried away to the medicine den while Lionblaze headed for the tattered thorn barrier. Jayfeather bent again for his mouse.

“How’s Briarpaw?”

Leafpool’s mew took him by surprise. She was the only cat who could creep up on him. Perhaps her scent was too familiar. Too close to his own. He shook the thought away.

“Why don’t you check on her yourself?” he suggested, trying to keep his fur lying flat.

“I’m a warrior now,” she reminded him gruffly.

Disappointed, he snatched up his mouse and began to pad away.

“I’d go and see Littlecloud.”

Leafpool’s suggestion stopped him in his tracks.

“Really?” He turned back to her. “I thought you weren’t a medicine cat anymore.”

“I meant, if I were you.”

“But you’re not me!”

Leafpool took a steadying breath. “Littlecloud’s dealt with an injury like Briarpaw’s,” she explained. “A cat whose legs were crushed. He might have ideas about how to help Briarpaw.”

Jayfeather didn’t reply.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment,” Leafpool went on. “It’s just what I would do.”

Jayfeather dropped his mouse, his appetite gone, and padded away. He climbed the rocks to Firestar’s den, pushing all thoughts except Briarpaw from his mind.

Sandstorm was sitting with the ThunderClan leader, grooming his shoulders, her rough tongue scraping his sleek fur. She paused as Jayfeather padded in.

“News?” Firestar’s voice was pricked with worry.

Jayfeather shook his head. “I want to travel to the ShadowClan camp to speak with Littlecloud,” he meowed. “Leafpool says he’s dealt with injuries similar to Briarpaw’s.”

“Very well.” Firestar didn’t hesitate. “But take Squirrelflight with you.”

Jayfeather’s heart sank. “I can manage by myself.”

“I know,” Firestar agreed. “But if one tree can fall after so much rain, so can another. We can’t risk losing you. Take Squirrelflight.”

Jayfeather could sense that there was no point arguing. But why Squirrelflight? He couldn’t think of any cat he’d like to travel with less. Except Leafpool.

Was Firestar forcing them together on purpose?

Jayfeather left the leader’s den and picked his way across the clearing. Grief pricked the air, the cats speaking only when necessary.

Foxleap and Icecloud were dragging a rustling branch past the apprentices’ den. They stopped as Jayfeather passed.

“How’s Briarpaw?” Icecloud called.

“No better, no worse.”

Farther on, Thornclaw was gnawing at a branch, trying to loosen it from its thick bough. “How’s Briarpaw?”

Jayfeather hardly broke pace. “No better, no worse.”

“How’s Briarpaw?” Brightheart padded across his path.

Jayfeather growled. “No better, no worse.”

Sympathy flooded from the one-eyed warrior’s pelt. “We ask only because we care.”

Jayfeather’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t like being helpless,” he confessed.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually, there is.” Jayfeather nodded. Brightheart was used to helping in the medicine den. “I have to go out. Can you give Briarpaw poppy seeds if she starts to complain of pain? No more than one at a time. I don’t want to dull her feeling any more than necessary.”

“Okay.”

“And take one to Mousefur as soon as you get a chance,” he added. “She’s still very upset.”

“Right.” Brightheart ducked away toward the medicine den.

Jayfeather wanted to check on the elder himself before he left. He slid into the apprentices’ den, where Purdy and Mousefur were crouched in thickly padded nests.

“It was my fault,” Mousefur was muttering. “All my fault.”

Purdy forced a loud purr. “I bet he’s walking with StarClan now,” he mewed. “Hunting in lush forest, warm and happy.”

“How will he manage without me to guide him?” Mousefur fretted.

“I wish I’d known him longer,” Purdy pressed on. “I heard he made the Great Journey while he was blind.”

“He never seemed to get tired.” Memory distracted the old she-cat for a moment. “Always first up and ready to move on. Never afraid of what lay ahead.”

“What was he like before he lost his sight?” Purdy prompted.

“Eyes like a hawk,” Mousefur remembered. “Could spot prey under a rock a tree-length away.”

Jayfeather felt Purdy’s gaze flit over his pelt. For the first time, Jayfeather thanked StarClan for the garrulous old loner.

“Tell me about his best catch,” Purdy urged Mousefur. “I hear he once caught an eagle.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly an eagle, though he did fight off an owl when it tried to snatch a kit.”

Relieved, Jayfeather backed out of the den.

As he neared the barrier, branches swished. Cloudtail and Brackenfur were heaving them up against the ragged thornbush.

“Wait!” Squirrelflight was hurrying after him. “Sandstorm told me to accompany you to ShadowClan’s camp.”

“I’m going to speak to Littlecloud.” Jayfeather didn’t turn to greet the orange warrior before he ducked through a gap in the barrier.

She hurried after him but kept a few paces behind as they headed into the forest. The wind was cold: the first promise of leaf-bare. Jayfeather shivered, then jumped as a tree creaked beside him. He had never considered the fragility of the trees before. They stood so strong and tall. How could rain have defeated one?

Squirrelflight quickened her pace and fell in beside him. “It’s not right to fear the forest.”

“It’s not right for a tree to crush the camp,” Jayfeather growled. “But it did.”

Squirrelflight moved a little farther away and padded on in silence. Jayfeather relished the tension sparking between them if it meant she would keep her distance. He had not been alone with the cat who had raised him since the truth came out: that she had lied to him and his littermates all their lives, that she wasn’t their mother at all, but their mother’s sister.

“I remember when you, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf were still kits,” Squirrelflight meowed suddenly.

Jayfeather stiffened.

“A leaf landed on Hollyleaf’s head. She thought the forest was falling and hid in the nursery and wouldn’t come out for three days.”

Shut up! Jayfeather flattened his ears.

“I couldn’t have loved you more,” Squirrelflight murmured.

Anger flashed through his pelt. “If you’d really loved us, you wouldn’t have lied!”

Squirrelflight bristled. “Well, the truth is just great, isn’t it!” She whipped her tail though the air. “Look at Leafpool. She’s lost everything she ever cared about.”

“Her choice,” muttered Jayfeather.

Squirrelflight ignored him. “She lost you, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf.”

“She gave us away.”

“Other cats have been hurt too!” Squirrelflight snapped. “This was never just about you, and I’m sick of you flapping your wings like an injured sparrow, feeling oh so sorry for yourself. You’re not the only cat suffering. Your pain is not the hardest to bear. I suppose I expected more from you because you’re the medicine cat; I suppose I forget how young you are!”

As she lectured him, Jayfeather’s rage spiraled alongside hers. “Leafpool made this happen. I didn’t go looking for mates in another Clan. I didn’t have kits and give them away! I didn’t lie and let every cat think I was something I wasn’t!”

Squirrelflight drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Try to remember,” she meowed quietly, “that we did what we thought was best. Remember that you were always loved.”

Yeah, right.

Border markers crossed their path.

Jayfeather padded past them.

“Wait,” Squirrelflight ordered.

Jayfeather dug his claws into the ground. Was she going to argue with everything he did or said? They had to speak with Littlecloud as soon as possible! But he waited while she tasted the air, her paws shifting the needles on the forest floor as she scanned the woodland.

“Patrol,” she warned.

Jayfeather sniffed, and scented the fresh tang of ShadowClan warriors. Oakfur and Ferretpaw were padding close by.

Squirrelflight hailed the ShadowClan warrior. “Oakfur?”

Jayfeather felt surprise spark from the ShadowClan cats’ pelts. Pawsteps came hurrying.

“So Blackstar was right!” Oakfur growled. “You are trying to invade.”

“Keep your fur on!” Jayfeather realized he was on the wrong side of the border. “I just want to see Littlecloud.”

Ferretpaw swarmed around him, whiskers twitching. Jayfeather stood still and let the young cat sniff.

“Do we look like a battle patrol?” Squirrelflight asked.

“There may be more of you.” Oakfur sounded suspicious.

“Can you smell any others?”

Ferretpaw snorted. “The others may be disguised.”

Squirrelflight sighed. “We really haven’t come to invade. Can you take us to see Littlecloud, please?”

Oakfur hesitated. “Okay,” he agreed. “But Blackstar will send a full patrol to check the rest of the area.” His mew rang through the trees, clearly aimed at the invasion patrol he suspected was hiding behind the trees along the border.

Squirrelflight padded across the scent line and fell in behind Oakfur. Jayfeather followed, his irritation with Ferretpaw growing as the apprentice trotted around him as though he were guarding the Clans’ most dangerous warrior.

“What’s the matter?” Jayfeather muttered. “Worried I might give you some medicine?”

Ferretpaw bristled. “Shut up!”

Jayfeather recognized the ShadowClan camp as they approached. He’d been here before, with Sol. He padded across the clearing, confident the way was clear, aware of Kinkfur and Ivytail peering from the nursery, of Tawnypelt and Scorchfur crowding from the warriors’ den, and hearing fur brush the earth as Starlingpaw and Pinepaw leaped to their paws on the edge of the clearing where they’d been sharing a shrew.

Oakfur gave a warning yowl, which brought Blackstar from his den.

“What’s going on?” the ShadowClan leader demanded.

Squirrelflight’s paws scuffed the clearing. “May we speak to you in private?”

Oakfur brushed past her. “They want to see Littlecloud.”

Surprise bristled in the ShadowClan leader’s pelt. “Then go get him,” he ordered. His fur snagged the brambles as he disappeared back into his den. “Come inside,” he called.

Jayfeather followed Squirrelflight through the entrance. The stench of ShadowClan was strong and he wrinkled his nose.

Blackstar sat down. “What’s wrong?”

“A beech tree fell into the hollow,” Squirrelflight explained. “We have an injured cat and we were hoping Littlecloud would be able to advise us on her treatment.”

“Just one injured cat?” Blackstar’s mew croaked with surprise, then hardened. “StarClan must have been keeping a close eye on you.”

“Yes,” Squirrelflight replied. “We managed to clear the camp before it fell.”

“Longtail died,” Jayfeather told Blackstar bluntly.

The ShadowClan leader sighed, sympathy flashing briefly like sunlight between clouds. “StarClan will welcome such an old friend, though his Clanmates will miss him.”

Littlecloud poked his head through the entrance. “Did I hear you say a tree fell?” He gasped.

“Yes.” Squirrelflight was keeping her answers short. “It fell into the hollow. Briarpaw was injured. Longtail died.”

“Thank StarClan it wasn’t worse,” Littlecloud breathed.

“It’s bad enough.” Jayfeather flicked his tail. “Briarpaw can’t move her hind legs.”

He let Littlecloud’s thoughts flood his own. He saw images of a tom howling in agony, then lying in a nest, limp with fear, unable to move, anguish clouding his gaze.

“I had a case like that.” Littlecloud’s mind cleared as he began to speak. “Back when I was Runningnose’s apprentice. Wildfur’s legs were crushed by a collapsing burrow.”

“Leafpool told me.” Jayfeather wanted to hear about the cure, not the cause. “But Briarpaw’s legs aren’t crushed. No broken bones.”

“Same with Wildfur,” Littlecloud told him. “His legs were only bruised. It was his backbone that was broken.”

Jayfeather felt sick. He was suddenly aware of the arch of his own spine. The strength in it. The fragility of it. “Did he recover?”

“He died,” Littlecloud mewed quietly.

“But Briarpaw’s alive and feels no pain.”

“Same as Wildfur, to begin with. I don’t think it was the broken backbone that killed him.”

Jayfeather leaned forward. “Then what killed him?”

“He couldn’t walk.”

“Didn’t you feed him?” Squirrelflight gasped.

“Of course we did,” Littlecloud snapped. “But he kept getting a cough, over and over. Each time we treated it, it came back. He found it harder and harder to breathe.”

“Did the loss of feeling spread to his chest?” Jayfeather wondered.

“No. I think it was because he never moved from his nest.” Littlecloud spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “It seemed as if he never had a chance to shake the sickness from his chest. As though it filled with disease, like a pool filling with water until there was no air left.”

Jayfeather shivered, picturing Briarpaw curled in her nest. Had she coughed this morning? Was she coughing now, while he was here, away from his patient? His paws suddenly itched for home.

Squirrelflight’s tail-tip brushed the roof of the den. “Then we must keep Briarpaw moving.”

Jayfeather blinked. “Do you think that would work?” he asked Littlecloud.

“If you can manage it, then it’s worth a try,” Littlecloud murmured. “And you could try making her a nest that lets her sleep sitting up. It might help keep her chest filled with air.” There was doubt in the medicine cat’s mew. “But it will be uncomfortable. And keeping her moving will be hard for her and for the rest of the Clan.” He paused. “I wish you luck.”

Jayfeather bristled. “Luck will have nothing to do with it.”

Littlecloud brushed his tail over the ground. “Let me fetch you some herbs to help with her chest and belly. That’s where you must focus your healing. Her legs are beyond your powers.”

The ShadowClan medicine cat padded from the den, and Jayfeather and Squirrelflight waited in awkward silence with Blackstar until the tang of strong herbs touched Jayfeather’s nose. He padded out to meet Littlecloud.

“The coltsfoot will ease her breathing.” The ShadowClan medicine cat pushed a bundle of leaves toward him. “The juniper berries will keep her belly soothed.”

“We have these herbs already,” Jayfeather told him.

“You’ll need all you can get.” Littlecloud sat down. “Come back if you need more. Or if you want to share any more ideas. We can all learn from this.”

Jayfeather picked up the bundle. As Squirrelflight squeezed out of Blackstar’s den, he headed for the camp entrance.

“May StarClan watch over you and Briarpaw,” Littlecloud called.

They may watch, Jayfeather thought. But I won’t let them take her yet.

As Jayfeather followed Squirrelflight back to the hollow, he kept trying to work out ways to keep Briarpaw healthy and moving.

Squirrelflight paused outside the hollow. “I’m proud of you,” she meowed. “If any cat can help Briarpaw, it’s you.”

Jayfeather turned to her, searching for words. He wanted to believe it. That she was proud. That he could help Briarpaw. “Thanks,” he mumbled through his mouthful of herbs, and ducked into camp.

Cloudtail and Brackenfur were still hauling branches against the tattered barrier, slower now as weariness dragged at their paws.

Firestar stood in the empty patch of clearing, talking with Brambleclaw and Dustpelt. “How much of the tree do you think you’ll be able to clear?” the ThunderClan leader asked his senior warriors.

Jayfeather sensed the weight of worry in Dustpelt’s chest. “We may need to wait for wind and weather to destroy the larger branches and trunks.”

“We could make use of them to construct new dens,” Brambleclaw suggested. “And looking at how much of the debris we’ve cleared already, I think we can rebuild most of our camp in less than a moon.”

“But we can’t neglect hunting and border patrols,” Dustpelt warned.

Firestar’s attention swung toward Jayfeather. “What did Littlecloud say?” he called across the clearing.

Jayfeather padded to the leader’s side and dropped his bundle of herbs. “He had some good advice,” he reported. “I want to share it with Graystripe and Millie first.”

“I sent Graystripe on patrol,” Brambleclaw confessed. “I wanted to keep him busy.”

Jayfeather picked up his herbs and left the warriors. He could hear Brightheart and Millie in the medicine den. Anxiety was sparking from them, and he sensed Briarpaw’s agitation growing as the two she-cats fussed over her.

“Just eat a little!” Millie begged. Jayfeather could smell the shrew dangling from her claws.

“I’m not hungry!” Briarpaw complained.

Jayfeather pushed through the trailing brambles and put down the herbs. “Leave her alone,” he ordered.

Millie rounded on him. “She’s my kit!”

“I’m her medicine cat!”

Briarpaw churned her nest with her forepaws. “I just want to help my Clanmates rebuild the camp!” she wailed.

Brightheart crossed the den and whispered in Jayfeather’s ear, “We told her about Longtail. She’s still distressed, but I didn’t want to give her poppy seed, after what you said.”

Jayfeather nodded. “Good. She’s going to have to learn to deal with distress.” He felt Brightheart stiffen at the darkness in his mew. “We have to face the truth,” he explained. “Briarpaw has a difficult path ahead, but I will do everything I can to save her.”

“Save her?” Millie nudged between them, her pelt prickling. “What did Littlecloud tell you?”

Jayfeather wasn’t ready to share what he’d learned. “Wait.” He needed to check Littlecloud’s theory first. There was still a chance Briarpaw’s legs were only bruised. That her backbone wasn’t damaged. He padded to her nest.

“What are you going to do?” Anxiety tightened Millie’s mew as Jayfeather leaned into Briarpaw’s nest.

“I need to be sure.” He ran his paws down Briarpaw’s back. He felt her twist to see what he was doing.

“Sure of what?” Millie fretted.

When Jayfeather didn’t answer, Brightheart padded closer and nudged Millie gently away. “He knows what he’s doing,” she whispered.

The backbone felt smooth: nothing out of place. Hope sparked in Jayfeather’s chest. He sniffed her legs. Definitely swollen. Perhaps when the swelling went down…? He lifted a leg in his teeth as he had done yesterday. It dropped, still lifeless. More comfrey might quicken the healing.

One last test.

Leaning farther into the nest, he nipped Briarpaw’s backbone in his teeth, just below her shoulders.

“Ow!” Briarpaw stiffened in alarm.

“I’m testing something,” Jayfeather reassured her. “It’ll prick, but I won’t damage you.” He put his muzzle close to hers until their whiskers brushed. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“I need you to be brave while I do this.”

“Okay.”

Millie tried to move nearer the nest.

Brightheart blocked her. “Give him room to work.”

Jayfeather nipped Briarpaw’s backbone again, a little farther down.

“Ow.”

He nipped again, working his way gradually toward her tail.

With each nip she stiffened, but stifled her mew.

He nipped her lower.

“Aren’t you going to do it again?” she asked.

The question turned Jayfeather’s blood cold. He reached into the nest with one paw and poked a claw into the same spot. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Briarpaw twisted around to see.

“No, don’t look,” said Jayfeather. He dug his claw in harder. “Now?”

Briarpaw started to shake. “I can’t feel anything.” Panic edged her mew.

“What are you doing?” Millie barged past as Jayfeather stuck his claws in hard. “You’re making her bleed!”

“Is he?” Briarpaw struggled to see.

Jayfeather hardly heard them. “You couldn’t feel my claws, could you?” he murmured numbly.

“No,” Briarpaw whispered.

“Your backbone is broken,” Jayfeather told her. “There’s no pain because there’s no feeling past the break.” He pressed his paw gently against her flank. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she squeaked. “If I can’t feel pain, surely that’s a good thing?”

“You won’t ever be able to feel pain in your legs again,” Jayfeather told her slowly. “You won’t ever feel anything in your hind legs again.”

Millie gasped. “What do you mean? Broken bones mend.”

“Not backbones.”

“How do you know that?”

“Littlecloud had a warrior with the same injury,” he told her.

Briarpaw was craning her head toward him. “What happened to him?” she mewed.

Jayfeather didn’t answer.

“He died, didn’t he?” Briarpaw whimpered.

Jayfeather felt Millie barge into his shoulder, shoving him until she had bundled him right out of the den.

“How could you tell my kit she was going to die?” she hissed. “She can’t feel her legs, that’s all! You’re not fit to be a medicine cat! Do something!”

“What’s going on?” Squirrelflight dashed across the clearing and slid between Jayfeather and her snarling denmate.

“He says she’s going to die!”

Squirrelflight stiffened. “Did you say that, Jayfeather?”

Jayfeather shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.” Squirrelflight’s voice grew calm. “Littlecloud’s patient died. It doesn’t mean Briarpaw will.”

“We can feed her and help her move to keep her healthy,” Jayfeather put in. “If we keep her active, she stands a good chance of beating this.”

Millie’s breath was coming in quick gasps. “She’ll recover?”

“Her legs won’t,” Jayfeather meowed gently. “But she doesn’t have to die.”

Squirrelflight’s tail swished the air. “We need to keep her as active as we can, so that her chest stays clear. If we can do that, she’ll be okay.”

“Okay?” Millie sobbed. “She’ll never hunt. She’ll never be a warrior! She’ll never have kits!”

Graystripe bounded into camp. “What’s happening?” He skidded to a halt at Millie’s side.

“Our poor kit!” Millie buried her muzzle in his shoulder.

The trailing brambles at the entrance to the den swished. “Briarpaw can hear you!” Brightheart hissed. “I think you should come in, Jayfeather, and explain to her exactly what’s happening.”

Squirrelflight’s nose brushed his cheek. “I’ll look after Millie and Graystripe,” she told him.

Heart heavy as a stone, Jayfeather padded into his den. He settled beside Briarpaw’s nest. Panic was flooding in waves from the young cat.

“I’m never going to walk again, am I?”

Jayfeather rested his muzzle on her trembling head. “No,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

CHAPTER 13

“StarClan honors your courage and spirit.” Firestar touched his muzzle to Briarpaw’s head. Watching, Dovepaw felt a surge of excitement.

“I name you Briarlight.”

Bumblestripe and Blossomfall, already named, were the first to start the cheering for ThunderClan’s newest warrior.

“Briarlight, Briarlight!”

The voices of the Clan shook the chilly air and rang up through the hollow into a clear blue sky. Millie and Graystripe pressed against each other, their proud gazes sharpened with grief.

Briarlight shifted her forepaws, propping herself higher, raising her chin. Dovepaw tried not to look at her hind legs, splayed uselessly behind her.

It had been a quarter moon since the tree fell. Dovepaw was weary, like the rest of her Clan. The work of clearing the camp of debris on top of the regular patrols had left every cat exhausted. And with each shortening day, prey was starting to grow leaner and scarcer.

Dovepaw longed for a good night’s sleep. She had been plagued by terrible dreams. If only she’d given more warning, then Longtail might have been saved and Briarlight would be scampering around her littermates right now. A dream had woken Dovepaw only last night: the tree splintering into the clearing yet again, a trapped cat wailing.

Ivypaw!

In every dream it was Ivypaw who was trapped underneath the beech tree, not Briarlight; and in every dream Dovepaw struggled in vain to reach her sister.

“Dovepaw?” Whitewing’s mew brought her back. “Are you all right?”

Dovepaw shook herself. “I’m just glad Briarlight’s got her warrior name.”

“She’s a warrior at heart,” Whitewing murmured.

It was true. Briarlight had never stopped fighting for a moment. Jayfeather had devised exercises to keep her chest clear and strengthen her forelegs. And Briarlight never missed a chance to practice them: stretching and twisting, reaching out with her forepaws until she trembled with the effort and her pelt grew matted. The past few days she’d insisted on fetching her own food from the fresh-kill pile, though her Clanmates often tripped over one another trying to be the first to carry the tastiest morsel to her nest in the medicine den.

“I’ll get my own,” Briarlight had told Cherrykit, who had tried to give her own meal to the injured young cat.

Cherrykit had stared with round eyes at Briarlight as she hauled herself with her forepaws across to the fresh-kill pile.

“Look, Molekit!” Cherrykit had called. “She’s doing it herself!”

Molekit had come running. “Go, Briarlight!” he cheered.

Dovepaw secretly thought the two kits and Jayfeather had been Briarlight’s greatest allies; they alone accepted her entirely as she was now. Millie’s gaze was still clouded with grief, and pity flashed in every warrior’s eyes when they saw the young cat hauling herself across the camp. Mousefur could not even look at Briarlight. She still blamed herself for the tragedy that had killed her best friend and crippled the young warrior.

In spite of their horror, most of the Clan was getting used to Briarlight’s injury. They no longer stared with startled eyes at the medicine den when she wailed and yowled under Jayfeather’s instruction.

“It’ll keep your chest clear,” he’d encouraged. “Yowl your head off if you have to. Your Clanmates won’t mind.”

The treatment seemed to be working. Briarlight’s hind legs were no better, but her fur was sleek, her eyes brighter each day, and her forelegs as strong as any warrior’s.

They didn’t even tremble now as Molekit clawed his way up the newest warrior’s pelt and balanced on her shoulders. “Briarlight!” he cheered.

Millie nosed him off crossly. “Be careful!”

“It’s okay,” Briarlight insisted. “I bet I can carry both of them.”

“Really?” Cherrykit’s eyes sparkled.

“Don’t you dare!” Millie warned the kits.

Graystripe softly pushed his mate away. “Let them have some fun.”

“We’ll be warriors, too, soon!” Molekit bundled his sister over in a surprise attack.

“You’re not even apprentices!” Briarlight teased.

Dovepaw gazed at her old denmate. How could she act so cheerful?

Whitewing leaned forward and licked her daughter’s ear. “Don’t forget, we’re gathering moss for the new elders’ den.”

How could she forget? For days, she’d been helping to weave the honeysuckle around what was left of the beech branches where the old den had stood. The new den was spacious and strong. Purdy and Mousefur would move in as soon as the new nests were built.

She gazed around the camp, accustomed now to its new shape. The warriors’ den was lost for good, crushed by the trunk. But the thick boughs of the beech, which arched over half the clearing and pressed against one side of the hollow, gave plenty of new shelter. There were plans to shape a brand-new warriors’ den around the thickest of them; rescued branches had already been stacked, ready for construction to begin. The nursery looked safer than a badgers’ set, enclosed in a thick tangle of roots that had been woven where possible to form a protective shell around the old bramble bush.

“Come on.” Whitewing flicked Dovepaw’s flank with her tail-tip. She beckoned to Toadstep and Rosepetal. “Are you ready?”

The two warriors trotted to meet them.

“Where’s Ivypaw?” Dovepaw glanced around the clearing, and spotted her sister slipping in from the dirtplace tunnel.

“I’m coming!” Ivypaw bounded across the clearing. “See you later, Briarlight!” she called cheerfully.

Briarlight had lain down in a spot of weak sunshine, while Molekit and Cherrykit clambered over her. She lifted her head and purred at Ivypaw. “Can’t you take these two with you?”

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with them for another moon yet,” Ivypaw joked.

“Hey!” Molekit objected. “We’d come if we could!”

Ivypaw bounded to a halt beside Toadstep. “A dawdling cat gathers no moss,” she teased the black-and-white tom.

Dovepaw weaved around them. “I bet I collect the most,” she challenged.

Ivypaw shrugged. “If you say so.”

Dovepaw tensed. Ivypaw was acting really weird lately. She’d been like this since the tree fell. Had she guessed Dovepaw’s powers? Was Ivypaw blaming her for not warning the Clan sooner? Dovepaw shook the thought away. Impossible.

She watched her sister race after Toadstep and Rosepetal toward the camp entrance, still not sure if she was imagining Ivypaw’s coldness.

“Watch this!” Ivypaw called to Toadstep as they reached the slope leading down to the shore. She skidded onto her belly and slid three tail-lengths down the soft grass.

“You look like a duck!” Toadstep huffed with amusement.

Rosepetal was watching the pair through narrowed eyes. Had she seen the change in Ivypaw too?

“Right.” Whitewing gazed along the shore. “Let’s see if we can find swan feathers. After all they’ve been through, I expect Purdy and Mousefur will appreciate soft nests.”

“And Briarlight,” Dovepaw added.

Ivypaw rolled her eyes. “Well, of course Briarlight.”

Whitewing flashed her daughter a stern look. “Seeing as you and Toadstep seem to be getting on so well…”

“Not that well!” Toadstep shifted his paws, his fur spiking up with embarrassment.

“However well,” Whitewing went on, “you may as well gather bedding together.”

Ivypaw nudged Toadstep, her eyes sparkling as she relished the young warrior’s discomfort. “Come on,” she mewed. “I’ll race you to the water.” She charged away down the bank, pebbles crunching as she landed gracefully on the shore.

Dovepaw flicked her tail. Ivypaw was even moving like a different cat.

“You and Rosepetal can work together,” Whitewing told Dovepaw. “I’ll be upshore if you need me.” She flicked her tail toward WindClan territory and headed away.

“Where do you want to start?” Rosepetal asked.

“You’re the warrior,” Dovepaw replied. Ivypaw had left her feeling ruffled.

“Yes,” agreed Rosepetal. “But I was hoping you’d have as good a nose for moss as you do for prey.”

Dovepaw glanced at her paws. “I guess the trees around the stream will have the most moss, and there might be feathers caught there too.”

“Right.” Rosepetal headed downshore to where trees lined the stream that raced into the lake.

Dovepaw padded after her. By the time she’d caught up, Rosepetal was already stripping moss from the roots of a tree.

“You head farther upstream,” the dark cream she-cat ordered.

Dovepaw nodded and walked into the chilly shadows of the trees. The stream chattered past her paws as she searched for the mossiest roots.

Suddenly a white flash caught her eye. A feather was bobbing on the breeze. It danced along the forest floor and Dovepaw gave chase. It was long and downy and would make great bedding. She weaved after it through the trees, then pounced, flattening it between her forepaws. “Got you!”

“There you are!” Lionblaze slid from a clump of ferns. “Whitewing said you’d gone this way.”

Dovepaw sat up, startled. “What is it?” A breeze rustled the ferns and lifted her feather, carrying it away through the trees. “Mouse dung!” Dovepaw started after it.

“Feathers can wait!” Lionblaze called her back.

“What about Mousefur’s nest?”

The fur rose along Lionblaze’s spine. “There are more ShadowClan scents inside the border,” he growled. “Something’s going on. The sooner we find out what, the better. They might be planning to invade. They know about the tree. They probably think it’s weakened us.”

Dovepaw sat down crossly. ShadowClan had known about the tree for a quarter moon. They hadn’t invaded yet. She watched her feather flicker out of sight. It’s probably just Tigerheart again. Only StarClan knew what he was up to, but he’d promised there was no danger to ThunderClan. Why would he betray her? They were friends.

“Well?” Lionblaze stared at her. “Have you heard anything from ShadowClan territory? Are they planning something?”

“How would I know?” she answered stubbornly.

Lionblaze rolled his eyes. “Your powers?”

Dovepaw lashed her tail over the forest floor. “If I’d heard something important, don’t you think I’d have told you?”

“You might not know what’s important!”

Dovepaw stood up and faced her mentor. “It’s my power!” A growl rose in her throat. “I don’t tell you how to fight, do I?”

A bramble rustled a few trees farther upstream and Ivypaw popped out. “Hello,” she mewed, her eyes darting from Lionblaze to Dovepaw. “I-I’ve just found the best patch of moss.”

Lionblaze flashed anger at Dovepaw and bounded away into the forest.

“What did he want?” Ivypaw asked. Her mew was softer than it’d been in days.

“He’s my mentor; he was just checking up on me,” Dovepaw snapped, still prickling from Lionblaze.

“But it sounded important.” Ivypaw padded closer. “Why does he think you know what’s going on in ShadowClan?”

Dovepaw tensed. How much had her sister heard? “I don’t know,” she mewed quickly.

“You’re lying!” Ivypaw scowled.

Dovepaw flinched.

Ivypaw leaned closer still. “What is it with you? Why are you always going off to talk with Firestar? Why is Lionblaze always calling you away for secret conversations?”

“They’re just interested in my training.” Dovepaw hated this. With every lie she felt another barrier of thorns spring up between her and Ivypaw.

Ivypaw curled her lip. “Firestar never asks about my training! What makes you so special?”

“It’s not like that, honestly!” Dovepaw’s heart fluttered with panic. “I don’t think I’m special. It’s…” Her voice trailed away. “It’s just complicated.”

Ivypaw took a step backward. “Too complicated to tell your sister? I thought we were best friends!” She glanced away through the trees, her eyes darkening. “Well, you have your secrets; I’ll have mine!”

Secrets? What was Ivypaw talking about?

Suddenly, Dovepaw remembered Ivypaw’s story about the StarClan cat who’d visited her. She dug her claws into the ground, annoyed with herself. Why hadn’t she shown more interest?

“Have you had another dream?” she guessed. “Another visit from StarClan?”

“Jealous now?” Ivypaw sneered. “You weren’t that interested when I tried to tell you before. Too busy chitchatting with Lionblaze. Why should I tell you now? Are you worried I might be more special than you? Are you worried the senior warriors might start taking an interest in me instead?” Rawness edged her mew, and Dovepaw felt a wave of dismay. She hadn’t realized Ivypaw felt like this.

“I-I’m sorry,” she began.

But Ivypaw was already bounding away into the trees. She glanced over her shoulder. “Clearly not sorry enough!”

I’ll explain it all one day! Dovepaw vowed silently to her. Then you’ll understand!

Back in the hollow, Rosepetal and Toadstep dumped the moss in the new elders’ den before hurrying off to find out what duties Brambleclaw had planned for them next.

“You’ll be okay straightening it out?” Rosepetal called to Ivypaw over her shoulder.

“No problem.” The feather wrap muffled Ivypaw’s answer as she slid under the branch arching over the entrance.

Dovepaw followed her sister inside. They worked silently, draping the moss over the bracken that Icecloud and Birchfall had already patted into place at one edge of the den. Late sunlight rippled through the honeysuckle roof, making the den seem underwater.

Wordlessly, Ivypaw unfolded the wrap and placed a pawful on the nest that Dovepaw was shaping.

“Aren’t you going to speak to me at all?” Dovepaw begged.

Ivypaw ignored her. The honeysuckle rustled and Dovepaw turned to see Purdy leading Mousefur into the den.

“See,” purred the old loner. “I told you they’d have the nests ready.” He nodded to Dovepaw and Ivypaw. “They look lovely. Thank you.”

Mousefur stared blankly around the new den. “It’s very big,” she murmured.

Dovepaw waited for her to start complaining about drafts, but the old she-cat didn’t say anything else, just curled into one of the nests and rested her nose on her forepaws.

Dovepaw wished she’d planted a burr in the moss. Anything to get the elder complaining again. It wasn’t right, seeing her so sad. “Not too damp?” she prompted.

“I preferred the old nests.” Mousefur sighed. “They smelled of Longtail.”

Purdy glanced at the apprentices and Dovepaw guessed that he wanted them to leave. As she turned to the entrance, she saw him circle down into his nest, pressing close to Mousefur. With a pang she wondered if she and Ivypaw would ever curl up together like that again. Watching Ivypaw stomp out ahead of her, she guessed not.

“Hey!” Rosepetal called as they reached the clearing. She was standing beside the fresh-kill pile. “Do you want a mouse?”

“Yes, please!” Ivypaw trotted away as if Dovepaw didn’t exist.

Dovepaw was too sad to feel hungry. Maybe Briarlight wanted company. She padded toward the medicine den, her paws scuffing through the beech leaves that littered the ground outside. She paused outside the den to listen to Jayfeather and Briarlight working on exercises.

“That’s it,” Jayfeather urged. “Stretch just a little bit more.”

“Oof!” Briarlight panted. “A few more of those and I’ll be able to wrestle Thornclaw!”

“Good!” Jayfeather purred. “I would love to see the look on his face!” The tang of fresh herbs was drifting through the brambles. “Three more stretches, and then you should have your medicine.”

“Can’t I just go outside and enjoy the last of the sunshine?” Briarlight pleaded. “The Clan will be sharing tongues soon and I don’t want to be stuck in here.”

“Eat your herbs first,” Jayfeather insisted. “Then you can share a mouse with your littermates.”

“Are they back from patrol?”

Dovepaw looked around the clearing. Blossompaw and Bumblestripe were padding into camp, carrying fresh prey. She should have known that as well as Jayfeather. She’d been so busy worrying about Ivypaw that she’d forgotten to keep her senses open to movements around the camp.

“Yuck!” Briarlight gagged on the herbs. Then Dovepaw heard her hind legs dragging across the den floor. She backed out of the way as the brambles swished and Briarlight’s head poked out. “Can’t you find a way of making them taste better?” she called back to Jayfeather.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

Briarlight hauled herself from the den and over the shifting leaves. Her eyes were bright but her teeth were clenched with effort. She spotted Dovepaw.

“Hi!” The greeting came as a hiss. “Sorry,” she groaned. “This is hard work! It’ll get easier.”

She headed toward the fresh-kill pile, where Blossomfall and Bumblestripe were arriving with their catches. Their eyes lit up as they spotted her.

“Briarlight!” Blossomfall hurried to greet her sister, a mouse dangling in her jaws. She dropped it at Briarlight’s paws. “Want to share this?”

Dovepaw ducked into Jayfeather’s den. “Hi,” she murmured wearily. She needed advice. She wanted to be friends with Ivypaw again. She wanted to share a mouse with her littermate, like Blossomfall and Briarlight.

Jayfeather was sweeping herb fragments with his tail into a dusty pile. He looked up as Dovepaw padded in. “Would you rather eat herbs sweetened with nectar or mouse blood?”

“Mouse blood,” Dovepaw answered absently.

Jayfeather let his tail lie still. “What’s wrong?” His blue eyes glowed in the dim light of the den.

“Please can I tell Ivypaw about the prophecy?”

Jayfeather sighed and went back to his sweeping. “No.”

“But it’s making it really hard to stay friends with her.”

“How?”

“She thinks I’m getting special treatment.”

“She’s jealous?”

“No!” Dovepaw suddenly felt defensive of her sister. Then she sighed. “Well, yes, sort of. I guess.”

“Lionblaze and I never told any other cat,” Jayfeather pointed out.

“But you had each other!”

“Not to start with.” Jayfeather began to pick the cleanest fragments out of the pile. “I was the first one to find out, and I couldn’t share it with Lionblaze and Hollyleaf until I was sure they were the ones.”

“But Hollyleaf wasn’t one of the Three.”

“I thought she was.” Jayfeather shook out another herb fragment. His eyes darkened. “She thought she was too.” He put the leaf shred carefully down. “Not being one of us was the hardest thing for her to live with in the end.”

“She didn’t know how lucky she was,” Dovepaw muttered under her breath. Curiosity pricked her pelt. “What did happen to her?”

“She went away.” Jayfeather picked up another shred. “She couldn’t stay here.”

“Because she wasn’t included in the prophecy?” Dovepaw frowned. She sometimes tried to imagine what it would be like to be an ordinary warrior. It had to be easier, surely?

“Partly,” Jayfeather mewed.

“Partly?” What was the other reason?

Jayfeather scooped the pile of shreds in his jaws and carried them to the split in the rock where he stored his herbs. Clearly he wasn’t going to give any more information away.

Secrets! Always secrets! Crossly, Dovepaw pushed her way out of the den.

Blossomfall, Bumblestripe, and Briarlight lay in a patch of dying sunshine sharing their mouse. Ivypaw was lying beside Rosepetal, sharing a blackbird.

Dovepaw gazed at her sister. I would tell you if I could.

Ivypaw swallowed her last mouthful and began grooming Rosepetal.

But I have to keep this secret. Even if it means losing my best friend.

CHAPTER 14

Ivypaw shivered. A chilly wind had stripped the flowers from the meadow and driven pale gray clouds across the sky. The ground trembled beneath her paws. The horses were running, crowding along the edge of the meadow, their eyes wild and their ears flat back.

Where was Hawkfrost?

Ivypaw felt nervous. She didn’t want to be alone in the wide pasture today. The breeze was moaning across the dull, dry grass, ruffling her fur the wrong way.

There! A dark rump showed above the grass, thick, bushed tail flicking.

She scampered toward the RiverClan warrior.

“You’re here!” she puffed, relieved when he turned and fixed his familiar dark blue gaze on her. “I thought you weren’t coming! I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Hawkfrost sat up and gazed at her lazily through half-closed eyes. “Lucky you found me today, then.”

“Teach me something new!” she begged. Cinderheart was already impressed by the progress she had made in training; she wanted to please her mentor again today when they practiced battle moves.

Hawkfrost yawned, hunching his shoulders as he stretched his spine.

“Just one battle move,” Ivypaw pleaded.

“Haven’t I given you enough to practice already?”

“I’ve practiced it all. Now I need something new.” Ivypaw widened her eyes hopefully. “Please!”

Wearily, Hawkfrost stood up. “Do you pester your Clanmates this much?” he murmured.

“They don’t teach me such interesting stuff,” Ivypaw mewed.

“Watch carefully.” Hawkfrost lunged for her, hooking her hind legs under her and rolling her over with his forepaw till she found herself splayed on her back.

“Wow!” she squeaked, springing to her paws. “Let me try it.”

She leaped at Hawkfrost, curling a paw around his hind legs and tugging.

Nothing happened. The broad-shouldered warrior turned his head to look back at her. “Have you started?”

Frustrated, Ivypaw backed away and tried again.

Still, the RiverClan warrior didn’t budge.

Ivypaw put her head to one side. “How did you do that, exactly?”

“Run your paw along my hind legs,” Hawkfrost ordered. “Can you feel the tendon along the back of the joint?”

Ivypaw felt a tough cord behind the crook of his legs, like a stretched mousetail.

“Aim there,” Hawkfrost told her. “A sharp jab. Try to hit both legs at once.”

Excited, Ivypaw crouched down, fixing her gaze, then leaped. She brought her forepaws down hard, hitting the tendon, and Hawkfrost’s legs buckled beneath him. Seizing the advantage, she used her shoulders to shove him sideways. Unbalanced, he toppled over and she threw herself on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“Good,” he grunted. He got to his paws, shaking her off. “But make more of your advantage. The surprise will last only a moment. You must use that moment. Try again.”

Ivypaw tried the move again, but this time swept his forepaws from under him too. Her teeth were at his exposed throat before he could recover himself.

He shoved her off with a hiss. “Not bad.”

Pride rippled through her pelt.

“We might make something of you after all,” he conceded.

She lifted her chin. “Of course!”

A shadow rippled through the grass some distance away. Ivypaw jerked her head to look at it and saw eyes glinting at her. Some cat was watching. She stiffened. “Who’s that?” As she spoke, the cat ducked lower in the grass and slunk away.

Hawkfrost shrugged. “I mentioned you to a couple of friends,” he meowed. “It was probably one of them. No doubt he wanted to see the apprentice who keeps badgering me for extra training.”

Ivypaw tossed her head. “He probably wanted to learn from me.”

“Yeah, right.” Hawkfrost cuffed her softly over the ear. “Come on, try that move again. See if you can do it twice.”

“Okay!” Ivypaw crouched down. “I want to get it perfect before I show Dovepaw.”

Hawkfrost blinked. “Who’s Dovepaw?”

“My sister.” Ivypaw wriggled her hindquarters, ready to pounce. “The one I told you about. Remember?”

She sprang up, hitting the tendon harder this time, feeling a surge of triumph as the broad-shouldered warrior crumpled and she rolled him to the ground.

Sitting back on her haunches, she wiped a paw over her whiskers while she got her breath back. “All the senior warriors think Dovepaw’s the best apprentice ever.” She shrugged. “They’re always asking her stuff, like she knows something no other cat does.”

Hawkfrost sat down and lapped at his chest. “And does she?” he asked between licks.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, but I can’t figure out what it is.” Ivypaw cocked her head. “I just wish she wouldn’t act like she’s so special. She’s always got her ears pricked like she’s on guard: like no one else in the Clan can keep us safe.”

Hawkfrost finished grooming his chest and ran a claw across a clover leaf. The soft green tissue split and darkened beneath his touch. “Did you tell her about me?”

“I was going to,” Ivypaw mewed, irritation prickling as she remembered their interrupted conversation. “But I didn’t get a chance.” She sniffed. “Now I don’t want to tell her.” The tip of her tail twitched. “Why should I? She has her secrets, so I’ll have mine.”

Hawkfrost plucked at another leaf. “Probably a good idea. It sounds like…” He paused. “Dovepaw—is that her name?”

Ivypaw nodded.

“It sounds like Dovepaw would get jealous and want to learn all your moves.”

Ivypaw unsheathed her claws.

“She’s your littermate,” Hawkfrost pressed. “Not your echo, right?”

“Right!” Ivypaw declared. “Why should I give her the chance to copy me?”

Hawkfrost stretched his hind legs. “No more echoes. Let’s try something new.”

Ivypaw woke up. Her shoulders were stiff. She wriggled them into the soft moss of her nest, wondering if she’d slept awkwardly. Then she remembered: Hawkfrost had worked her hard, until her muscles ached. She sat up, surprised. Wow! What a vivid dream!

Dovepaw was snoring. Curled in her nest, her eyes closed, the gray apprentice looked small and fluffy. Far more like the innocent kit she had been than the knowing apprentice she pretended to be now. With a surge of affection, Ivypaw longed to tell Dovepaw about her dream, just like they used to when they shared a nest in the nursery with Whitewing.

No. Ivypaw pushed away her nostalgia. Dovepaw had a secret. I’m going to have one too. It was probably a far better secret than Dovepaw’s anyway. She was being trained by a StarClan warrior! She was going to be the best warrior ever. She’d be even better than Lionblaze!

“Ivypaw!” Cinderheart’s mew rang through the wall of the den.

Ivypaw crept out into the cold, gray dawn. Blossomfall and Bumblestripe were stretching in their makeshift nests beneath the arching bough of the beech. Cinderheart beckoned them over with her tail.

“You three will be training together today,” she announced.

Blossomfall sat down, yawning. “You want us to train Ivypaw?”

Cinderheart shook her head. “You will be training together.”

“We’re not apprentices!” Bumblestripe shook out his fur, fluffing it against the cold air.

Cinderheart’s gaze flashed to the slope of rocks. Firestar was leaping down into the clearing.

Blossomfall rolled her eyes. “Let me guess,” she grumbled. “A new idea about training.”

Ivypaw could hear Thornclaw’s irritated sigh echoing in her mew. Blossomfall was obviously quoting her denmate.

Firestar halted beside them. “There’s nothing wrong with trying something new,” he meowed.

Blossomfall looked at her paws. “I guess.”

Firestar straightened his tail in the air. “We don’t want the Clan getting stale. And there’s no harm in warriors practicing their skills. Would you rather we started battles to keep our paws nimble?”

“I suppose not,” Blossomfall conceded.

Ivypaw glanced at the apprentices’ den. “What about Dovepaw? Will she be training with us?”

Cinderheart shook her head. “She’ll be training with Lionblaze.”

“Of course.” Ivypaw’s fur pricked along her spine. “Why should she train with ordinary warriors?”

“Pardon?” Cinderheart pricked her ears.

“Nothing,” Ivypaw mewed quickly. She felt hot as she noticed Firestar staring at her. “I just don’t get to train with her much these days.”

Dustpelt, Birchfall, and Leafpool were stirring in their nests beneath the fallen tree.

“I hear Firestar put you in charge today, Cinderheart.” Dustpelt yawned, padding under the snaking branch. “Are we ready to go?”

Birchfall and Leafpool followed him, neither looking excited at the prospect of a training session.

“Yes, we’re ready,” Cinderheart meowed. “Come on; follow me.”

They stopped in a clearing where bracken edged a leafy patch of forest floor. Leafpool flicked her tail restlessly as Cinderheart weaved between the warriors. Ivypaw circled Bumblestripe and sat down.

“It’s weird training with senior warriors,” she whispered in his ear.

“It’s certainly different.” The young warrior’s eyes were bright. “I wonder if we’ll be able to beat them?”

“Maybe.” Ivypaw stretched her claws. The run through the forest had warmed her up and loosened the stiff muscles in her shoulders. She was ready to try out some of Hawkfrost’s moves.

“Now,” Cinderheart began, “we’re going to set up a mock battle.” She flicked her tail toward the hazel bush at one end of the clearing, then at the clump of ferns at the other. “I’m going to split us into two patrols.” She nodded to Dustpelt. “You lead Leafpool, Blossomfall, and Ivypaw. I’ll lead Bumblestripe, Hazeltail, and Birchfall. If that’s okay with you, Birchfall?” The tawny tom dipped his head to the younger warrior. “We’ll try to take the hazel. You”—she nodded again at Dustpelt—“try to take the ferns.”

Ivypaw padded after Bumblestripe into the center of the clearing. She crouched beside him, preparing for the attack, while Leafpool and Dustpelt flanked them. Cinderheart’s patrol lined up opposite, so close that their whiskers almost touched.

Bumblestripe narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the hazel bush a tree-length behind his opponents. Hazeltail and Birchfall pressed their bellies to the earth.

“Remember,” Cinderheart ordered, “claws sheathed. We’re not ShadowClan.”

The warriors nodded and Ivypaw quickly curled her claws away beneath the soft fur of her white paws.

“Go!”

At Cinderheart’s command, Ivypaw rolled over. She heard Cinderheart’s paws thump the ground where she’d been.

“Nice!” Cinderheart’s praise was cut short as Leafpool bowled the gray she-cat over and bundled her with flailing paws to the end of the clearing.

Ivypaw jerked around, ready for an attack. Bumblestripe was wrestling with Blossomfall.

Blossomfall wriggled from his grasp. “Don’t forget I learned all your moves before you were out of the nursery.”

“Bet you don’t remember this one.” Bumblestripe jumped in the air and landed, belly first, flat on her spine.

Blossomfall collapsed, her legs crumpling beneath her. “Hey! That’s unfair. That’s a kit move!”

“But it still works,” Bumblestripe teased, refusing to budge as Blossomfall struggled underneath him.

Ivypaw stiffened. Birchfall was streaking toward the fern clump. If he reached it, his patrol would win. She raced after him, spraying dirt with her hind legs. He was nearly at the ferns. She pounced. Reaching out, she jabbed his hind legs, aiming for the tendons. He stumbled and fell and she leaped onto his shoulders, fighting to cling on with unsheathed claws while he writhed beneath her.

With a fierce shove he flung her away and she landed heavily, the wind huffing from her. Narrowing her eyes, she sprang to her paws. She wasn’t going to let Hawkfrost down! Birchfall was on his paws but looking bewildered, his hind legs trembling. She dived underneath him, curving her body and hooking herself under his belly. With one paw on either side of her, she knocked a foreleg and hind leg out from under him. Then she darted out of the way before he collapsed.

Where was the rest of her patrol? She couldn’t defend the ferns without help. She scanned the clearing.

Leafpool was staring at her, her eyes wide. I bet she’s impressed with my moves, Ivypaw thought.

Leafpool blinked as Dustpelt blindsided her. Rolling over onto her side, the pale tabby warrior scrabbled to escape, but Dustpelt held her down and she could do nothing but lash her tail.

“I give up!” Leafpool yowled.

“You’ve lost anyway!” Cinderheart was standing beside the hazel bush. “I claim this bush for CinderClan!”

Birchfall was scrambling to his paws. He dipped his head to Ivypaw. “Good moves for an apprentice.”

Leafpool struggled out from under Dustpelt and padded across the clearing. “Yes,” she agreed. “Very nice moves. Where did you learn them?”

Ivypaw wasn’t going to give her secret away. “I k-kind of worked them out for myself.” Why shouldn’t her Clanmates think she was as talented as Dovepaw?

“That last one looked like a RiverClan move,” Dustpelt commented, padding over.

Ivypaw shrugged, making her eyes as round and innocent as she could. Dustpelt was wrong. It was a StarClan move!

“Whatever it looked like,” Birchfall meowed warmly, “it was a good one. I’ll remember to look out for it in the future.”

Leafpool was still staring at her quizzically. “Do it again,” she suggested. “We could all learn it.”

Ivypaw opened her mouth. “I—I don’t remember exactly what I did.” She didn’t want to share her secret moves with any cat. Nor did she want Dustpelt analyzing it any more. Leafpool already looked suspicious. They both might have known Hawkfrost when he was alive, and recognized his special technique.

Dustpelt flicked his tail. “Too bad.” He turned and called to Cinderheart, who was still proudly guarding her captured ferns. “Are you going to give us a chance to make it even?”

“Okay,” Cinderheart agreed. “But this time we start from the bracken. Your patrol on one side, ours on the other.”

Relieved that the attention had slipped away from her, Ivypaw followed Blossomfall, Leafpool, and Dustpelt into the bracken on one side of the clearing. She crouched among the brittle branches and peeped out into the clearing.

The bracken opposite trembled as Cinderheart’s patrol prepared for the attack.

“Blossomfall,” Dustpelt hissed. “You’re fast. I want you to race for the ferns while the rest of us stop them from reaching the hazel.”

Blossomfall dropped into a crouch with her haunches bunched underneath her.

“Ready?” Dustpelt whispered.

Before any of them could answer, the bracken on the far side of the clearing crashed apart and Cinderheart’s patrol pelted out.

“Go!” Dustpelt yowled.

Blossomfall dashed toward the ferns while Ivypaw hurtled out beside Dustpelt and Leafpool and raced to block the path to the hazel. Birchfall and Bumblestripe were already charging for it while Cinderheart and Hazeltail rushed to stop Blossomfall from reaching the ferns.

Blossomfall tried to zigzag out of their way, but Cinderheart and Hazeltail brought her down.

“Help her!” Dustpelt yowled to Leafpool. As Leafpool veered away, Ivypaw pelted beside Dustpelt, stretching her stride to match the warrior’s bound for bound. Bumblestripe was almost at the hazel.

You’re not winning again! Ivypaw sprang forward, stretching her forepaws to grasp Bumblestripe’s tail. She tugged it and he stumbled. She hauled herself close enough to nip his hind legs.

“Ow!” He flicked his haunches up out of the way, then spun and swung a clumsy paw at Ivypaw’s muzzle.

She ducked and swerved, hooking a forepaw around his and sending him crashing onto his side.

“Too easy!” she crowed, leaping on top of him.

He didn’t even struggle, but gazed up at her, his eyes dark with sadness.

“What’s up?” Surprised, she sat back on her haunches and let him clamber to his paws.

A yowl sounded behind them. Dustpelt was wrestling with Birchfall. But the battle could wait. Something was wrong with Bumblestripe.

“Are you okay?” Ivypaw prompted.

The warrior was staring sadly at the hazel bush. Was he just trying to trick her? Was he about to make a sudden dash for it? Ivypaw narrowed her eyes, tensing.

“Briarlight would have loved this,” Bumblestripe mewed quietly. Anger flashed in his gaze. “It’s just not fair!” he growled. “She was trying to help Longtail. Why did StarClan have to punish her?”

Ivypaw wished she had an answer. “Sometimes bad things happen.” The words felt lame on her tongue.

“Then what’s the point of StarClan?” Bumblestripe looked utterly defeated.

Ivypaw padded to his side and pressed her head against his shoulder. “Briarlight won’t let this beat her,” she murmured.

“No.” Bumblestripe sighed. “But it didn’t have to happen.”

Feeling her Clanmate’s grief in every shaking breath, Ivypaw imagined Dovepaw dragging herself around the hollow like half-dead fresh-kill. She understood Bumblestripe’s fury. It was so unfair.

“We won!”

Leafpool had captured the ferns. She pressed a frond beneath her paws while Hazeltail circled her, snorting. Cinderheart dipped her head in gracious defeat, then glanced over to Bumblestripe. Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. She was clearly trying to guess why the two young cats were sitting so close.

Then she blinked and nodded.

She understood.

“Hey! You two!” Cinderheart turned to Dustpelt and Birchfall. The toms were still fighting. Dustpelt thrust Birchfall away with his powerful hind legs, but Birchfall landed on his paws and spun around, ready to attack again.

Cinderheart cleared her throat. “I hate to break it up,” she called. “But the battle’s over.”

Dustpelt and Birchfall halted and stared in surprise at the gray she-cat.

Birchfall sat down, the fur ruffling on his shoulders. “We were just practicing battle moves,” he meowed self-consciously.

“Yes,” Dustpelt agreed. “That’s what training’s all about, isn’t it?”

Cinderheart’s whiskers twitched. “And I suppose if we happen to enjoy it, StarClan won’t mind too much,” she teased.

The sun was lifting over the trees, brightening the sky. “Looks like it’ll be a good day for hunting,” Leafpool commented.

Cinderheart nodded. “Let’s get back to camp and see if Brambleclaw wants us to join a patrol.”

Dustpelt nodded. “The Clan needs fattening before leaf-bare.”

Birchfall led the way through the bracken and disappeared among the trees. Cinderheart, Blossomfall, and Dustpelt followed.

Bumblestripe drew away from Ivypaw, his pelt smooth where she’d pressed it. “Thanks,” he murmured. He hurried to catch up with his sister and fell in beside her.

Ivypaw followed, feeling left out as the two young warriors walked side by side, speaking softly to each other.

“Ivypaw.” Leafpool’s gentle mew made Ivypaw jump. The pale warrior had caught up to her and was padding at her side. Leaves crunched underpaw, golden as Brackenfur’s pelt.

“Those were pretty advanced moves,” Leafpool commented.

Ivypaw glanced sideways but the she-cat’s amber gaze was fixed on the path ahead.

“I guess I just did them accidentally.”

“Lucky,” Leafpool commented.

“I suppose.” Guilt itched in Ivypaw’s pelt.

“And you’re sure you couldn’t do them again?” Leafpool pressed.

Leave me alone! Ivypaw quickened her pace, irritated when Leafpool kept up. Every other cat in the Clan had secrets—including Leafpool. Why wasn’t she allowed to have her own?

CHAPTER 15

“Why didn’t you want me to bring Dovepaw?” Lionblaze sat down beside the wall. The abandoned Twoleg nest loomed above them, stark against the leafless forest.

“I didn’t want to scare her.” Jayfeather patted earth around his precious catmint, shoring up its delicate stems against the snow he knew would come too soon.

“She’s got to know sometime,” Lionblaze pointed out.

But not yet.

Jayfeather stiffened.

Pawsteps.

He lifted his muzzle and tasted the air.

Lionblaze jerked around. “What is it?” His pelt was pricking. “Oh, it’s just Sandstorm’s patrol.”

Bushes swished as Sandstorm and Cloudtail raced through the trees nearby. Squirrelflight and Spiderleg pelted after them.

“So what did you want to know?” Lionblaze swished his tail over the cold earth.

“Have you had any dreams about Tigerstar lately?”

“None.”

Jayfeather sighed.

“What’s on your mind?” Lionblaze kneaded the earth.

“He’s not just going to give up, is he?” Jayfeather sniffed at a patch of borage that he’d discovered growing wild beside the Twoleg wall. “Help me with this.” The biggest leaves had withered, but he could scent new shoots near the base that he wanted to collect. They were good for treating fever. He parted the dying stems so that Lionblaze could see the young growth. “Can you pick those?” he asked, holding back the foliage.

“Okay.” Lionblaze began to pluck out the shoots, making the air sharp with the scent of sap.

“So?” Lionblaze prompted. “Who do you think Tigerstar’s visiting?”

“Definitely Breezepelt. Why else would he attack me?”

Lionblaze plucked another pawful of shoots. He was quiet but Jayfeather could sense his mind turning. Finally he spoke.

“I thought I was special,” he murmured. “I thought that’s why he visited me. Because we were kin and he thought I’d make the best warrior.”

“You are special,” Jayfeather insisted.

“But Tigerstar never believed in the prophecy.”

“No.”

“And we were never really kin,” Lionblaze pointed out. “He knew all along that Brambleclaw wasn’t our father.”

“Yes.”

Lionblaze sat back on his haunches. “So why did he visit me?”

Jayfeather let go of the stems and they swished back together. “Even without kinship or the prophecy, you’re one of our strongest warriors,” he reasoned.

“Is that all he wants?” Lionblaze asked. “Strong warriors?”

“He clearly needs warriors to fight for him.” Jayfeather began to bank earth up around the broken stems to protect them. “He’s already using Breezepelt. And remember the ghost warrior who fought with Breezepelt? Tigerstar must have found allies in the Dark Forest.”

“Allies?” Lionblaze growled.

“Not all cats go to StarClan,” Jayfeather reminded him. “But why is he doing this now?”

“He hates Firestar. All the Clans know it. What could be better than raising a force against him when he’s least expecting it?”

“I suppose.”

Lionblaze lapped at his chest. “Breezepelt seems like a strange choice for a recruit. He doesn’t have any kinship with Tigerstar.”

“But he does resent us because we are Crowfeather’s kits.” Jayfeather pawed the shoots into a pile. “Tigerstar’s clever. He knows most warriors are too loyal to break the code. So he has to exploit weakness.”

“He couldn’t exploit me!”

Jayfeather felt a surge of affection for his brother. “Of course not. But he tried. Who knows who else he may be trying to influence?”

Lionblaze’s paws shifted. “So we have to work out which cats have weaknesses he might use?”

“Or kinship.” Jayfeather sensed Lionblaze stiffen. “What is it?”

“That must be how he got to Tigerheart!” Lionblaze’s tail was flicking over the ground. “Do you remember me telling you the battle moves he used on the beavers were pure Tigerstar?”

“Of course!” Jayfeather’s belly tightened. Things were beginning to make sense. “And I found him at the border that night WindClan brought Dovepaw home, remember?”

“So all those ShadowClan scents we’ve been finding could be Tigerheart, scouting out the border on Tigerstar’s command?”

“Right,” Jayfeather agreed. “Tigerheart’s an obvious choice, right down to his name. Which means we can pretty much assume that Tigerstar is exploiting both kinship and the weakness of other cats to recruit them to his side.”

A growl rumbled in Lionblaze’s throat. “How do we stop him?”

“We can’t, not yet. We’ll just have to be on our guard,” Jayfeather warned. “We can’t prove any of this, and no cat will admit their loyalty lies outside their own Clan.”

“We could try to find out if more cats are being trained by him.”

Jayfeather gave the borage another sniff. “Watch them at Gatherings,” he instructed. “See if any others cross our borders. I’ll find out what I can at the medicine cat Gathering tonight.”

“Okay,” Lionblaze agreed. “So far we know of one WindClan and one ShadowClan cat. What about RiverClan?”

Jayfeather narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Is there a RiverClan warrior who hates us as much as Breezepelt? One whose weakness Tigerstar could exploit?”

“I can’t think of one,” Lionblaze answered. “But…” His voice trailed away.

Jayfeather leaned forward. “What?”

“Tigerstar had a son, didn’t he?”

“Hawkfrost?” Jayfeather gasped. He’d never seen him in StarClan. There was a good chance that he walked the Dark Forest with Tigerstar. “He lived in RiverClan. He’d know exactly which cats to approach.”

“So Tigerstar might not be the only cat training warriors in their dreams,” Lionblaze guessed.

Jayfeather shrugged.

“Oh, great,” Lionblaze growled.

“Let’s head back to camp,” Jayfeather meowed. “I want to rest before the Gathering.”

He padded into the trees. The ferns stroked his pelt as he pushed his way through.

Lionblaze rustled behind him. “Will the herbs be okay?”

“I hope so.” Jayfeather sent a silent prayer to StarClan. “It’s good to know that I have fresh supplies.”

“You seem to enjoy looking after them.”

“Plants do what they’re told,” Jayfeather commented. “Unlike apprentices.”

Lionblaze purred. “Have you thought about taking on an apprentice?”

Jayfeather tensed. “Not while…” The words were hard to say. “Not while Leafpool is around.”

“Are you hoping she’ll be a medicine cat again?”

Jayfeather twitched one ear. “Maybe.” He wasn’t being sentimental. “It just seems like a waste of training for her to turn her back on it. She knows so much, and sometimes I feel that I know so little. The Clan still needs her, Lionblaze. Maybe more than ever.”

“Jayfeather!” Sorreltail was calling from the clearing. “Littlecloud’s here.”

“Coming!” Jayfeather gave Briarlight a sniff. She was fast asleep in her nest. No smell of sickness. He hurried out of his den. He could sense the fragile half-moon hanging over the hollow. The air smelled fresh with a tang of frost. Hard weather was on its way. He trotted across the clearing, finally sure of a route that wouldn’t trip or snag him.

“I thought you usually met the other medicine cats at the border when you go to the Moonpool,” Sorreltail whispered as Jayfeather passed.

“I think he wants to see the tree damage for himself.”

Littlecloud was standing just inside the thorn barrier. Jayfeather could sense the ShadowClan medicine cat’s shock as he stared around the camp.

“I’m amazed you lost only one cat,” Littlecloud commented as Jayfeather reached him. “How’s Briarpaw doing?”

“She’s Briarlight now.”

“Really?” Littlecloud sounded surprised, but Jayfeather didn’t comment as he followed the ShadowClan medicine cat out through the thorns. Flametail, Littlecloud’s apprentice, was waiting outside the tunnel.

Good. He was Tigerheart’s littermate. If any cat’s dreams held a clue to the warrior’s intentions, it would be Flametail’s.

Unless Tigerstar was training him too.

A medicine cat? No way!

Jayfeather tried to push the thought away, but it clung to the back of his mind like a tick, making him wary of saying too much.

Littlecloud let Jayfeather take the lead as they headed for the WindClan border. They would meet the other cats there.

“So Firestar made her a warrior anyway?” Littlecloud pursued the news about Briarlight.

“She’s as brave as any warrior.” Jayfeather felt for Flametail’s reaction. How much interest was the young cat taking in their conversation?

“Has she had any sickness?” Flametail stuck his muzzle close to Jayfeather’s.

“None. We’ve kept her moving,” Jayfeather explained. “She does exercises every day and fetches her own food from the fresh-kill pile. It seems to be keeping her chest and belly working fine.”

“How are you keeping her spirits up?” Flametail asked.

Was he looking for a sign of weakness? “No need,” Jayfeather meowed. “She’s very positive.”

He was relieved as they padded from the trees and he scented Kestrelflight, Mothwing, and Willowshine waiting on the WindClan border. He pushed ahead, hurrying over the grass to meet them.

He leaped the stream in a practiced bound. “It’s cold,” he remarked in greeting. An icy wind was whipping off the moorland and ruffling every cat’s fur.

“Not once we get moving.” Kestrelflight was stamping his paws against the chill. The WindClan medicine cat began to lead the way upstream.

“Mothwing.” Jayfeather greeted the RiverClan medicine cat formally. He felt her cool gaze touch his pelt.

“Jayfeather.” There was an edge to her mew. Did she think he’d give away her secret? She was wrong if she did. What would he gain by telling the others she had no connection with StarClan?

“Hopefully the hollow will be sheltered from this wind,” Littlecloud grumbled.

“You sound like an elder,” Kestrelflight teased.

Flametail joined in. “He almost is one.”

“Cheek!” Littlecloud pretended to sound offended, but there was warmth among the medicine cats as they trekked up the stream.

Any other moon, Jayfeather would have relished the lack of boundaries and suspicion. But tonight he was worried. The old trust he felt with his fellow medicine cats felt threatened by the ghost of Tigerstar. He walked behind the small group of cats as they followed the stream to the waterfall. As he concentrated on picking his way over the rocks, he felt the distance between them stretching.

“Do you want us to slow down?” Littlecloud called back.

“I’ll catch up,” Jayfeather replied, scrabbling between two boulders. He wondered again if Tigerstar and his Dark Forest Clanmates would visit any of the medicine cats tonight.

Absurd! he told himself. But was it really? They were used to being visited by StarClan cats. Why not cats from the Dark Forest, the Place of No Stars?

Jayfeather skidded as he landed on a slippery rock.

“Careful.” He felt Littlecloud’s steadying paw. The ShadowClan tom had waited for him.

He paused as Jayfeather padded on a few steps, then fell in behind. “How’s Leafpool?”

Jayfeather detected worry in Littlecloud’s mew as he asked about his old friend.

“How is she managing as a warrior, I mean?” Littlecloud uttered the word as though he still didn’t quite believe she’d made the decision.

“She’s fine.” Jayfeather picked up his pace. Why did he have to explain her behavior?

“Doesn’t she miss it?”

Jayfeather turned on him. “No cat forced her to leave!” he snapped. But how could she remain a medicine cat after she’d broken the code?

Jayfeather pushed away the prick of sympathy plucking at his heart as they headed on; then Littlecloud spoke again.

“We all make mistakes,” he murmured. “Some have echoes that last forever.”

Flametail was already scrambling up the waterfall a few tail-lengths ahead. By the time Jayfeather had clawed his way to the top, the ShadowClan apprentice and Mothwing were already settled beside the Moonpool. Willowshine was still looking for a space.

Littlecloud padded down to join them.

“You were right, Littlecloud,” Kestrelflight called. “It is more sheltered here.”

Jayfeather followed the paw prints spiraling down to the pool, dimples made over countless moons. He waited for the whispers that always called him to share with his ancestors, but heard only the wind whining above the rocks.

A desolate pang opened in his belly. No ancient pelts brushing his? No murmuring welcome? No half-familiar scents?

Were they angry he’d broken Rock’s stick?

I’m sorry! he wailed silently.

Mothwing’s breathing had already deepened into sleep by the time he settled beside the Moonpool. It would be pointless probing her dreams. If StarClan never visited her, it was hardly likely any cat from the Dark Forest would make it through her barrier of disbelief.

Flametail was most likely to hold clues about Tigerheart. But Littlecloud or Willowshine might betray fresh information. They might have their worries too. They may have seen a Clanmate acting strangely or have treated unexplained wounds.

Perhaps it was best simply to walk alone among his ancestors?

Jayfeather touched his nose to the cold, clear water and closed his eyes.

A world opened before him, green and lush. Warm breezes enfolded him and the smell of fresh prey touched his nose. Sunlight slanted through the trees as he padded through the long grass.

A familiar, matted pelt moved through the undergrowth ahead. Jayfeather recognized it at once. He broke into a trot. He was about to call out when another cat jumped out from the long grass and greeted the shaggy StarClan warrior.

“Yellowfang!”

“Hi, Flametail!”

Jayfeather halted, pricking his ears.

“Runningnose wants to speak with you,” Yellowfang told Flametail.

I wonder what the old ShadowClan medicine cat has to say?

Jayfeather ducked into the ferns and began to shadow Flametail’s path through the trees.

“Don’t you ever learn?”

Jayfeather reared in surprise as Yellowfang landed a whisker ahead of him.

He bristled. “He jumped into my dream!”

“And asked you to follow him?” Yellowfang’s amber gaze was sharp with rebuke.

“You don’t know everything!” Jayfeather growled. He could see Flametail disappearing into the undergrowth.

“I know you need to trust him,” Yellowfang snapped back. “He’s a medicine cat.”

“Leafpool was a medicine cat.” Jayfeather snorted.

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes and Jayfeather tensed, waiting for the lecture. But no lecture came. Instead she looked thoughtful. “You said I don’t know everything,” she murmured. “Tell me, what don’t I know?”

“Where do I start?” Jayfeather huffed.

Yellowfang growled. “There’s no time for smart replies.” Her eyes darkened. “Several StarClan cats are troubled. Something bad is coming. This might be what the Three will be needed for.”

Jayfeather tensed. “Something bad? Do you know what it is?”

Yellowfang shook her head. “We were hoping you’d know.”

“All we know,” Jayfeather told her, “is that Tigerstar is training warriors from different Clans in their dreams. Hawkfrost might be working with him.”

Yellowfang’s eyes stretched. “Training them? Why?”

“The Dark Forest is rising.” Jayfeather heard the words fall from his lips. His heart quickened. “The Dark Forest is rising against us.”

“What do you mean?” Yellowfang’s fur was on end.

“Tigerstar is training cats to fight us. He’s already trained Breezepelt. I fought him by the Moonpool. But not just him. Another cat fought with him. A cat from the Dark Forest.”

“Who?” Yellowfang pressed her muzzle closer.

“I don’t know,” Jayfeather answered. “He was big and dark pelted. I didn’t recognize him.”

“You think he’s working with Tigerstar?”

“And Hawkfrost.” Jayfeather felt suddenly cold. “I don’t know how many there are. But they’re entering cats’ dreams—cats who have a grudge against us or who are kin to them. They’re training them to fight.”

“You suspect Flametail’s one of their recruits?” Yellowfang’s eyes flashed with horror. “He’s a medicine cat!”

“We don’t know who we can trust,” Jayfeather fretted. “Tigerheart’s been crossing our border at night. And he might not be the only one. I promised Lionblaze I’d try to find out if there are others. Perhaps RiverClan cats. Kin of Hawkfrost.”

Yellowfang sat down, forcing her fur flat. “Then they were right to be worried.” She was muttering to herself.

“Who was right?” Fear pricked in Jayfeather’s paws. “StarClan?” How could StarClan be worried? It was StarClan. Dread began to run like cold water along his spine. “What should we do?”

Yellowfang looked into the distance, her grave amber gaze stretching far past Jayfeather.

“We must go to the Dark Forest.”

CHAPTER 16

Trees in full leaf whispered gently in the breeze. Yellowfang hopped over a narrow stream that meandered through the long grass. Jayfeather followed, relishing the warm lushness underpaw after walking the dried-leaf floor of the forest. She led him through flourishing bushes that brushed their pelts with dew and pollen as they passed.

A meadow stretched ahead, graced by trees, flecked with flowers, aglow in the slanting sunlight. Warriors, sleek and content, walked through the long grass, or stretched in sunny hollows, their pelts soft in the sun. A tabby crouched, rump waggling, before pouncing after a plump mouse. A white cat with rose-tipped paws stretched up the cracked trunk of an ash tree and plucked happily at the bark while she watched a squirrel bobbing along a high branch. With a sudden bound she scooted upward and was swallowed by the fluttering leaves.

Jayfeather tasted the air. Half-familiar scents floated in the breeze: WindClan, ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and RiverClan.

“Hi, Silverstream,” Yellowfang purred to a gray tabby padding from a swath of ferns.

“Yellowfang.” The tabby nodded. “Have you seen Feathertail?”

“She was resting at Warm-rocks earlier.”

“Thanks.” Silverstream slid away through the grass, her tail-tip flicking.

Jayfeather narrowed his eyes. “No quarrels. No leaf-bare. No hunger,” he observed. “No wonder everyone seems so content.”

Yellowfang’s eyes darkened. “We never cease watching and worrying over those left behind.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “If this is where we’re heading, what is there to worry about?”

“No cat enjoys another’s suffering. And not every path leads here,” Yellowfang answered.

With a shiver, Jayfeather remembered where they were going.

Another familiar pelt caught his eye. Frighteningly familiar. Blazing ginger fur, large pricked ears, emerald gaze—the slender tom weaved through the bushes ahead. He seemed paler than the other cats, almost invisible. And yet he was there.

“Firestar?” Jayfeather breathed.

“Not quite,” Yellowfang mewed gently. “Five of his lives are here, but he won’t be able to hear or speak until his ninth life has joined us.”

Jayfeather watched the ghostly cat disappear behind an oak. Could Firestar feel his lives ebbing away? No. He shook off the thought. How could he stay such a strong leader if he did?

Jayfeather began to realize that other pelts were paler too. Some were so ghostly they hardly seemed there at all. More like mist than flesh.

“Are those cats half-dead too?” he asked Yellowfang as a wraithlike tortoiseshell crossed their path, hardly acknowledging Yellowfang’s greeting nod.

She shook her head. “They’ve been here a long, long time,” she explained. “So long that they’re forgotten.”

“By everyone?” The thought chilled Jayfeather.

“Being forgotten is nothing to fear. Not even the stars last forever. All cats fade and disappear eventually. They’ve earned their peace.”

Jayfeather imagined Yellowfang fading into nothing and was surprised to find grief pricking his heart.

“Don’t worry,” Yellowfang purred, as though she could read his mind. “Who could forget a cantankerous old badger like me?”

“Hey! Yellowfang!” A pretty tortoiseshell hailed them from the rocks above a waterfall churning above a sparkling brook. She leaped down, disappearing into the long grass for a moment before bounding up toward them.

Jayfeather recognized Spottedleaf at once. “Hi.” He dipped his head as she reached them and shook the grass seeds from her dappled pelt.

Her eyes were bright as stars. “Where are you going?” They dimmed as they met Yellowfang’s tough gaze.

“The Dark Forest.”

“You mustn’t!”

“We must.”

Jayfeather watched the exchange, tipping his head to one side. It was hard to tell which cat was most frightened, though both fought to conceal it. “Tigerstar is plotting against us,” he told her. “We have to find out what he’s planning.”

Spottedleaf bristled at the name. “Is it wise to go alone?”

“We have each other,” Yellowfang told her.

“I’m coming with you,” Spottedleaf decided.

Yellowfang flinched. “I don’t want to attract too much attention.”

Spottedleaf held the old cat’s gaze. “Firestar would never forgive me if I let anything happen to Jayfeather.”

Jayfeather lifted his nose. “I’m not helpless,” he objected.

Spottedleaf turned her amber gaze on him. “You’re going to find Tigerstar,” she reminded him. “Against that fiend, every cat is helpless.”

Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Then maybe it’s time for things to change!”

They padded through the trees, the lushness fading with every pawstep. The trunks grew thinner and smoother, the branches too high to reach. The sun faded from the sky, leaving white, eerie light that permeated the woods like water flooding through a reed bed. Jayfeather drew a breath of cold, damp air, tasted nothing but decay, and shivered. The grass had thinned and disappeared, and mist wreathed the bare forest floor. It rose and thickened, enfolding them in fog until Jayfeather realized with a tremor that he could no longer see Yellowfang’s thick, matted pelt or hear Spottedleaf’s soft tread.

Gulping air so thick that it made him cough, Jayfeather quickened his pace, hoping to catch up. He was too scared to call out, in case other ears heard him.

The ground grew peaty underpaw as he hurried into a trot.

Where are they?

His heart began to pound, the blood rising and roaring in his ears. He broke into a run.

Yellowfang! Spottedleaf!

He couldn’t see. The mist was choking him. This was worse than running blind through ThunderClan territory. He bolted through the trees, paws tripping on a gnarled root snaking across his path. Pain seared his leg but he raced on. A yowl echoed through the fog, and paws began to thunder on the ground behind.

Someone was chasing him.

He pushed on harder, weaving around trees, cutting so close that they ripped at his fur. The pawsteps were gaining on him, rhythmic, powerful, pounding the forest floor in his wake.

Panic seized him. He was hardly breathing now, just running.

Crash!

Shock rang through him as he hit a tree. It sent him reeling, chest first, into a puddle. Twisting onto his back, he saw a figure looming over him, a broad face leering down through the mist.

“No!” His voice cracked into a whimper.

“It’s Yellowfang, you mouse-brain!” The she-cat grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him to his paws.

Spottedleaf came skidding to a halt beside them. “You found him,” she puffed.

Yellowfang was trembling with rage. “We have to stay together!” she hissed.

Jayfeather had seen her cranky, but never this furious. That was when he realized how frightened the tough old she-cat was.

He nodded, gulping for air.

“Come on.” Yellowfang began to head away, then paused to make sure that Jayfeather and Spottedleaf were following. They padded through the sucking mud until the fog began to clear.

Jayfeather recognized the trees, the eerie light, the echoing silence. He’d met Tigerstar here once before. Spottedleaf had come and guided him home that time. She wasn’t pleased to be back in the Place of No Stars now, her pelt pricking, her eyes stretched wide. But it was Yellowfang who was really afraid.

Jayfeather glanced nervously at the tattered old she-cat. He’d never imagined she could be scared of anything. But there was a stiffness in her movements that betrayed real terror. He probed her mind.

A flash of panic flooded him. A hulking, dark-furred cat stalked her thoughts. The glow of bright red berries like drops of blood. Searing grief and fury.

Curiosity enticed him on, further into her thoughts. No! He must concentrate on where he was. There was enough danger without losing himself in another cat’s nightmare.

Jayfeather jerked his head as he heard rustling in the sparse undergrowth, the pattering of paws. He glanced questioningly at Spottedleaf.

She shook her head. “No prey here.”

Jayfeather’s fur rippled, chilled by the gaze of watchers in the shadows. He scanned the trees. Eyes glowed from the gloom.

Jayfeather drew closer to Spottedleaf. “Who are they?” he whispered.

“Cats, dead and long forgotten,” Spottedleaf murmured. “Ignore them.”

How? Jayfeather could feel menace in their stares, their minds haunted by evil beyond the reach of every memory but their own.

Yellowfang paused and tasted the air. “We have to find Tigerstar and figure out what he’s up to.”

Spottedleaf blinked. “You think we’re going to stumble over him plotting?” She narrowed her eyes. “He knows this forest too well. He’ll know we’re here long before we find him.”

Jayfeather headed along a trail weaving between the gray, whispering trees. “We’ve got to try. Otherwise, why did we come?” He smelled tom. The scent was darkly familiar, but he couldn’t tell which Clan it belonged to. He glanced over his shoulder, checking that Yellowfang and Spottedleaf were close behind.

Spottedleaf’s mouth was open, her nostrils twitching.

“Can you smell that?” he whispered.

“Wait!” Yellowfang was staring wildly into the trees. “Let’s go back. We can’t do any good here.”

Jayfeather shifted his paws. What was spooking the old cat so much?

“Hello.” A deep growl sounded on the path ahead. Jayfeather jerked his head around.

A huge black cat blocked the way. “What are you doing here?”

Jayfeather froze, the scent of the tom stirring his memory. Where had he met this warrior? He lifted his chin bravely, preparing to answer the tom’s question.

Then he realized that the cat wasn’t talking to him. The warrior’s hard amber gaze was fixed on Yellowfang.

At once Jayfeather found himself plunged into a whirl of memories. Yellowfang yowling as she kitted, squirming in the shadows, hiding from her Clan. A small bundle of fur dropping into another cat’s nest—a queen who did not care for her new charge, who bit it and nipped it and deprived it of milk as punishment for being born at all. Then the kit, fully grown. Brokenstar. The name blazed in Jayfeather’s mind. A strong, well-muscled warrior, fattened by his own hunting skill, as hungry for power as a fox was for rabbit. The death of a leader and darkness descending over a Clan in chaos. Then suddenly he saw Yellowfang again, powerful now; the warrior weak, blind, battered, imprisoned, but still with the murderous glint in his eye. Through Yellowfang’s eyes Jayfeather watched the cat struggle as she forced him to eat deathberries, saw him convulse and die, swearing hatred and vengeance. He felt searing guilt slice through his heart: the guilt of a queen who had brought such a monster into the world. The guilt of a mother who had driven him from it.

I murdered my own son!

Shuddering as he drew in a deep breath, Jayfeather struggled out of the nightmarish visions and back into reality.

This was Brokenstar. Yellowfang’s kit!

The cat was staring at his mother with cold contempt, his bared yellow teeth glinting in the eerie light.

Jayfeather backed away, pressing against Yellowfang’s pelt. “You were his mother?” he breathed. “But you were a medicine cat!”

Yellowfang dragged her gaze from her son and stared at Jayfeather. “Mistakes happen,” she growled.

Jayfeather flinched away. Mistakes happen? Is that how she sees me?

Spottedleaf’s sweet breath brushed his ear fur. “You weren’t a mistake, Jayfeather. Your mother always loved you.” She glanced at Brokenstar. “You were always loved, Jayfeather.”

Brokenstar hissed, “What do you want?”

Jayfeather opened his mouth, reaching for something to say. But his mind still whirled with everything he had seen and learned about Yellowfang in those few moments of shared memory.

I trusted her!

She was no better than Leafpool!

Spottedleaf pushed past both of them and faced Brokenstar. “What are you doing?” Her mew was commanding.

Brokenstar looked at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. “Nothing.”

“I’m talking about training the cats from the Clans by the lake,” she pressed.

Brokenstar blinked, his eyes softening into enticing pools. “Training cats by the lake?” Brokenstar’s mew rang with the innocence of a kit. “Why would we do that?”

Spottedleaf refused to be swayed. “That’s what we want to know.”

Brokenstar swept his tail behind him. “Look around,” he purred invitingly. “Explore a little.”

Jayfeather found himself following the warrior’s gaze as it flitted over the dank, gray trees and wreaths of mist.

“See as much of my home as you like,” he urged.

“Okay.” Spottedleaf took a step forward but he blocked her.

“But of course,” he murmured sweetly, “if I let StarClan see the Dark Forest, then StarClan must allow me to visit their hunting grounds.” He showed his teeth. “Isn’t that only fair? Surely the warrior code would expect it.” His mouth twisted into a sneer.

Yellowfang leaped forward and crouched, bristling, in front of him. “That will never happen!”

Brokenstar shrugged. “Then you can’t come any farther into my territory.”

He turned away.

Jayfeather leaped after him, hackles up.

“No!” Spottedleaf blocked his attack, shouldering him away. “It’s not a fight you would win,” she insisted, holding his gaze.

Disappointed, Jayfeather nodded. She was right. If only Lionblaze could come here!

“Come on.” Spottedleaf turned and gently nosed Yellowfang back along the path. The old cat’s eyes stared blankly ahead of her. Jayfeather had no wish to probe her thoughts now. Her eyes showed nothing but pain.

They padded along the path until Brokenstar had faded into the mist behind them.

Jayfeather stumbled suddenly as Spottedleaf nudged his shoulder. Bundling him off the path, she pushed him into the low verge of wilting gray ferns. Yellowfang halted and stared around, confused.

“Over here!” Spottedleaf hissed at her.

Bewildered, Yellowfang slid in beside them. “What are you doing?”

“Go home,” Spottedleaf ordered. “You’re no help to us while Brokenstar is around. He clouds your judgment.” She touched her muzzle to the old cat’s shoulder. “Go back to StarClan,” she murmured, “where you are loved.”

Yellowfang blinked at her and sighed. “Very well.”

“If we don’t return,” Spottedleaf added, “send a patrol for us.”

Yellowfang nodded. “I’ll wait for you by the waterfall.” She nosed her way through the ferns. “Be careful!”

“We will,” Spottedleaf promised. She led Jayfeather farther from the path, weaving through the dank undergrowth, only half-visible in the mist.

Jayfeather kept close, his paws wet and cold as he padded over the sticky earth.

Water murmured ahead of them as they crept from the ferns. A sluggish river heaved its way through the forest, its waters dark and lifeless.

Spottedleaf scanned the bank. No fallen tree spanned the water. No rocks dotted its course. Jayfeather shuddered. He hoped she wasn’t going to suggest they swim across.

“Look!” she hissed.

There were figures moving among the trees, beyond the water. Half-shrouded in mist, warriors gathered.

“Always aim for the throat.” A shadow-pelted tabby was lecturing the others. He grasped a wiry brown tom, hooking his claws into his ragged fur and hurling him to the ground. “See?”

The tom struggled helplessly as the tabby ran a claw along his throat. Blood rose in its trail.

Jayfeather felt Spottedleaf stiffen beside him. “Darkstripe,” she breathed.

The tabby turned and stared in their direction.

Jayfeather ducked, his heart pounding as Darkstripe blinked.

“It’s okay; he hasn’t seen us,” Spottedleaf whispered.

A low growl set Jayfeather’s pelt on end. Hawkfrost padded from the shadows, knocking Darkstripe away from his victim. “Concentrate on what you’re doing!” He grabbed the bleeding tom and shoved him back toward the line of watching cats.

The brown tom shook himself and lapped at his wound.

Hawkfrost snarled. “Worry about your pelt later!”

The tom stopped midlick and stared at Hawkfrost with rounded eyes.

“You wanted to learn some killing moves!” Hawkfrost hissed at him. “Stop acting like a frightened kit and listen.” He turned to a skinny white tom who was watching with half-closed eyes. “Come here, Snowtuft!”

Warily the white tom crept forward.

“Are you ready to learn?” Hawkfrost sneered.

Eyes glinting, Snowtuft nodded. “That’s why I’m here,” he spat.

“Good.” Hawkfrost lunged and grasped Snowtuft by the throat. Lifting him with powerful paws, he spun around to face the others. “Shredtail, come here!”

As Snowtuft’s paws churned helplessly in the air, a dark brown tabby crept forward.

“Slice his belly open,” Hawkfrost growled.

Shredtail’s eyes gleamed with blood-hunger.

Jayfeather’s breath quickened. Bile rose in his throat. “No!” he breathed. “The warrior code would never allow such vicious battle moves.”

Spottedleaf dug her claws into the earth. “These cats have always lived outside the code.” Her mew was thick with disgust. “They were rogues within their Clans. They are rogues now. That’s why they’re here. They never deserved to be called warriors.”

Foul breath stirred the fur on Jayfeather’s spine. “You’re wrong.”

The two cats spun around.

Tigerstar sat in the middle of the trail, staring at them, his eyes lazy with contempt. “There’s no code to say what can and can’t happen here.” His gaze flicked to Hawkfrost. “It’s your world that’s restricted by petty rules and expectations.”

Anger surged through Jayfeather. “A true warrior’s heart needs no rules! It can do no evil!” he blurted.

Amusement lit Tigerstar’s amber gaze. He turned to Spottedleaf. “Don’t you just love his innocence?”

Spottedleaf straightened. “It’s goodness, not innocence.”

“Do good cats creep around and spy on others?”

A low growl rumbled in her throat. “They do when there is no other way to find out what’s going on.”

Tigerstar’s eyes rounded. “You could have just come to me and asked whatever you wanted to know.”

“Very well.” Jayfeather sat up, forcing his trembling shoulders to relax. “Why are you training cats from the Clans?”

Tigerstar gazed around the forest. “I see no Clan cats here.” Then he fixed Jayfeather with a look so cold, Jayfeather had to sink his claws into the ground to stop his legs from shaking. “The only Clan cats here are you two. And you’re trespassing.” His foul breath washed over Jayfeather’s muzzle as he leaned closer. “Which makes you the only cats here breaking rules.” He blinked. “Didn’t Brokenstar order you to leave?”

How does he know that?

“Why bother training these cats in killing blows?” Spotted leaf glared at Tigerstar.

The warrior flicked his tail. “Why not?”

“You’re already dead!”

Tigerstar shrugged. “That’s no reason to lose our fighting skills.”

Jayfeather let out a low hiss. “What do you need fighting skills for here?” he challenged.

“Once a warrior, always a warrior,” Tigerstar purred.

Spottedleaf took a step forward. “You gave up the honor of being a warrior in the heartbeat you decided to kill Bluestar!” she snapped. “You can’t steal warriors from the Clans and turn them against their own Clanmates!”

“Really?” Tigerstar lifted a paw and unsheathed his claws. “Says who?”

Jayfeather thrust his muzzle into Tigerstar’s face. “We do!”

Tigerstar batted him away.

Jayfeather huffed as he hit the floor, wincing at the pain burning his ear. He scrambled to his paws and faced Tigerstar again. There was no way Jayfeather was going to let this dead warrior think he was scared to fight him.

“Don’t bother,” growled the dark warrior. “It’s a fight you can’t win.” He turned away. “Now get out of here before I pass you over to my friends for practice.”

“Come on,” Spottedleaf whispered. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

Jayfeather hurried after Spottedleaf, gagging as Snowtuft’s agonized yowl rang through the trees behind them.

CHAPTER 17

Lionblaze couldn’t sleep. Had Jayfeather discovered something at the Moonpool? Was he walking in another cat’s dreams right now? They had to find out who their enemies were before it was too late.

Lionblaze sat up and gazed past the bough that arched over his nest. The half-moon trembled through the rustling leaves, and Silverpelt glittered beyond. Bathed in crystal light, his Clanmates huddled in nests around him. Were any of them being trained by Tigerstar in their dreams?

Brackenfur? The golden warrior twitched his flank. No way. What weakness could Tigerstar exploit in him?

Squirrelflight? However much Lionblaze resented her for the lies she had told, for letting him, Brambleclaw, and every cat in every Clan believe that she was his mother, he couldn’t believe she would ever be persuaded to betray her Clanmates.

Dustpelt? The dusky tom often argued with Firestar, but Lionblaze suspected the two warriors relished their disagreements, sparking off each other and never holding grudges.

Whitewing? Never. Just…never.

His gaze rested on Thornclaw. Maybe. He had been good friends with Ashfur. Perhaps he should ask Jayfeather to visit Thornclaw’s dreams.

Leafpool? No cat from the Dark Forest would be mouse-brained enough to think she’d turn against her Clanmates.

What about Cinderheart?

The gray she-cat lifted her head. “Lionblaze?”

Lionblaze blinked. What was he thinking? How could he doubt his Clanmates? “I can’t sleep,” he whispered.

Cinderheart yawned. “Let’s go for a walk.” She hopped from her nest, landing delicately between the pools of bracken, and weaved her way into what was left of the clearing.

Lionblaze followed, glad of her company. If anyone could chase away his dark thoughts, it was Cinderheart.

Her gray pelt shone under the stars, her eyes almost black in the half-light. “Look out!” she hissed over her shoulder as Lionblaze’s tail brushed over Graystripe’s nose. “He might dream it’s a mouse and bite off the tip.”

Lionblaze stifled a snort of amusement. Graystripe probably could eat in his sleep.

“Come on.” Cinderheart bounded to the thorn barrier. Newly shored up with fresh branches, it shielded the opening to the hollow as well as ever. She squeezed through the gap and Lionblaze headed after her.

Outside, a cold breeze stirred the empty trees.

“Forest or shore?” Cinderheart offered.

“Forest.” Lionblaze didn’t feel like wandering along the exposed lakeside. The pathways of the forest were easier to move along unnoticed. And if they reached the ShadowClan border, he could check for Tigerheart’s scent. He padded along the gully, wading through dead leaves. Cinderheart scampered past, kicking them up so that they showered his pelt. She raced ahead before he could retaliate and waited, puffing, for him to catch up, her soft form silhouetted in the moonlight.

“Have you noticed that Ivypaw and Dovepaw are avoiding each other?”

Her question took him by surprise.

“No.”

“You should watch them,” Cinderheart suggested. “They hardly ever share a mouse anymore.”

“Littermates argue.” Lionblaze shrugged. He and Hollyleaf had always bickered, especially when she was at her bossiest. Grief pricked him and he pushed away the thought.

“Not Dovepaw and Ivypaw,” Cinderheart persisted. “They’ve always been so close.” Her blue eyes grew wistful. “But I guess I used to quarrel with Honeyfern and Molepaw when they were alive.”

Cinderheart looked so sad that Lionblaze wanted to remind her she still had kin in the Clan. “You haven’t fallen out with Poppyfrost in moons.”

“She’s too busy with Cherrykit and Molekit to argue.” Cinderheart brightened. “They’re a pawful, aren’t they?”

“Only when they’re awake,” Lionblaze purred. They hadn’t come out here to grieve for lost littermates. He wanted to forget his worries for a while. He padded up a slope and headed around a swath of brambles tumbling between the oaks.

Cinderheart padded at his side, her pelt occasionally brushing his as she squeezed past snagging branches. “But I do wish Ivypaw weren’t so competitive with Dovepaw.” She sighed.

“That’s natural with apprentices.”

“It’s only since Dovepaw was chosen to go on the quest,” Cinderheart commented. “I think that’s what started it.” She turned her gaze on Lionblaze. “Why did Firestar choose her? She’s only an apprentice. I heard some cats saying she had a dream from StarClan. Is that true?”

“That’s what she said,” Lionblaze answered evasively. “Whatever it was, we were lucky.”

“Perhaps she’s special, like Jayfeather,” Cinderheart pressed. “Should she be training as a medicine cat? Would Jayfeather take her on?”

Lionblaze shook his head. “Don’t even suggest it to her. She’d be horrified. She’s warrior to the bone.”

“It’s great that you have such confidence in her, and I wouldn’t want to undermine that, but…” Cinderheart cast him a sideways glance. “Maybe you could talk to her about being a bit more considerate of Ivypaw?”

“She seems to be making great progress,” Lionblaze pointed out. “Perhaps the competition is doing her good.”

Cinderheart flicked her tail irritably.

“Let’s race.” Lionblaze didn’t want the night spoiled by bickering over their apprentices. “It’ll warm us up.”

Cinderheart shrugged. “Okay.” Then, gasping, she stared into the branches overhead. “Oh, no!”

Alarmed, Lionblaze looked up.

“Ha, ha! Got you!” Cinderheart hared away into the trees.

“You sneak!” He pelted after her.

As he closed on her she darted through the hollow trunk of a tree. He veered to the side, overtaking her as she emerged with cobwebs trailing from her bushy tail.

Now Lionblaze was in front. He scrambled up an outcrop of rocks. Cinderheart leaped after him, and he felt her muzzle brushing his tail. As the stone scraped beneath his paws, he thought of Heathertail and the way they’d played in the cave.

He halted, panting at the top. “Wait!” he called as Cinderheart shot past him.

She skidded and turned to look challengingly at him. “Are you tired already?”

“No.”

“We could climb trees instead.” A mischievous sparkle glinted in her eye. “Oh, I forgot,” she added innocently. “You don’t like climbing trees.”

“Why climb when you can run?” Lionblaze jumped past her and charged through the trees. This wasn’t the cave and Cinderheart wasn’t Heathertail. This she-cat was ThunderClan from her nose to her tail-tip. There was nothing wrong with being with her. Feeling freer and happier than he had in moons, he swerved and headed for the lake.

I’m not skulking in the shadows like prey!

Cinderheart pounded after him as he pelted around a clump of ferns and skidded out from the trees. His paws slithered down the grassy slope. Cinderheart hurtled past him and bounded onto the shore, rattling pebbles under her feet.

She charged into the lake and stood waiting, belly-deep in the rippling waves. “I dare you to get your paws wet!”

“No way!” Lionblaze skidded to a halt at the water’s edge.

Cinderheart plunged her shoulders under and began to swim, gasping at the cold. Lionblaze had forgotten that Jayfeather had taught her to swim to strengthen her leg after her accident as an apprentice. “You look like a RiverClan cat!” he called from the shore. “Why don’t you catch me a fish while you’re in there?”

Cinderheart splashed out onto dry land and shook out her pelt. Lionblaze shied away as the water showered him.

“Don’t you call me RiverClan!” she huffed, eyes sparkling. “I’m ThunderClan through and through!”

“I’m glad you are.” Lionblaze pushed away all thoughts of Heathertail and admired his feisty denmate, her pelt spiked with water.

Cinderheart blinked. “Of course!” she declared. “It’s the best Clan to be in.”

Lionblaze glanced at his paws. He hadn’t quite meant it like that. Hot with embarrassment, he padded along the shore, not sure if he was glad that she had missed the clumsy compliment. She must think I’m a mouse-brain!

“Brrr!” Cinderheart caught up to him. She was shivering.

“Let’s get you back to camp before you catch a cold.” He steered her up the bank and into the trees, pressing close to share the heat of his pelt. She smelled sweet—mossy and damp, like a warm nest.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” he murmured as they neared the hollow.

“No problem,” she answered. “It was fun.” She yawned. “We’ll be tired in the morning.”

“It was worth it,” Lionblaze purred, glad that for a few brief moments the prophecy and the Dark Forest had been pushed to the back of his mind.

He woke late. Brambleclaw was already organizing the early patrols when he opened his eyes. Shaking himself awake, Lionblaze scrambled from his nest and hurried out from under the beech.

Cinderheart was crowding around the ThunderClan deputy with her Clanmates. “Can Ivypaw and I join the border patrol?” she asked.

Brambleclaw glanced at Brackenfur, who twitched his ears in agreement. “Okay.”

Lionblaze tried to catch Cinderheart’s eye, hoping that some of the warmth of last night would linger in her gaze. But she only nodded briskly. “I’m taking Ivypaw on patrol.”

He cut her off. “I heard.” Was she being aloof on purpose, or hadn’t she enjoyed their walk the same way he had?

Dovepaw interrupted his thoughts. “Brambleclaw wants us to hunt with Thornclaw,” she told him.

The border patrol was already heading out of camp. Lionblaze watched Ivypaw’s tail disappear through the gap in the thorns. “Don’t you mind not going with your sister?” He remembered Cinderheart’s worries about the sisters. Were they really not getting along?

Dovepaw looked at him. “Why should I?” She shrugged. “I’ll know what she’s doing wherever she is, anyway.”

Lionblaze cocked his head. “Yes, of course.” It felt strange to hear Dovepaw talking so calmly about her powers. She usually acted like they were a burr in her pelt.

“Are you coming?” Thornclaw called from the entrance. Icecloud and Sandstorm were pacing beside him.

“I’m going to make the first catch,” Icecloud declared, glancing at Thornclaw and Sandstorm. The young warrior was clearly determined to impress them.

“Not if I can help it,” Dovepaw mewed. She sped past him and ducked through the barrier first.

Lionblaze caught up to her in the gully. Thornclaw and Sandstorm were already ranging up the slopes, noses twitching. Icecloud hared past them, spraying leaves.

“You’ll never catch anything making that sort of noise!” Dovepaw yowled after her.

“Hush!” Lionblaze warned her. “You’ll scare everything away.”

“I’ll scare everything?” She stared after Icecloud, at the leaves resettling in her wake, then flicked Lionblaze with her tail. “What’s gotten under your pelt?”

Lionblaze frowned. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d been stung by Cinderheart’s briskness.

But Dovepaw didn’t seem interested in an answer. Her ears were pricked and her whiskers were quivering. “There’s a mouse at the top of the rise,” she announced. “Shall I catch it?”

“Give Icecloud a chance, at least,” Lionblaze advised. According to Cinderheart, she’d already put Ivypaw’s tail out of joint; he didn’t want every cat in the Clan to be jealously competing with his apprentice.

“But she might take ages, and the mouse’ll be an easy catch,” she begged.

“Just wait, okay?” he snapped. “The Clan has managed so far without your powers.”

He saw her flinch and instantly felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh.

Suddenly, farther up the gully, a bush exploded with a clatter of leaves as a pigeon erupted from it. Icecloud jumped, her paws flailing as the pigeon batted her away with panicked wings and disappeared into the branches of an oak. Landing clumsily, Icecloud straightened and shook herself, her fur ruffled with embarrassment.

“Let’s split up!” Lionblaze called. He felt sorry for the young warrior. It might be easier if Icecloud didn’t have to match Dovepaw’s skills in front of Thornclaw and Sandstorm. “It’ll be better with fewer paws stirring up the leaves.”

Sandstorm called down from the top of the gully, “That’s fine with me.” She nodded to Icecloud. “Let’s try the lakeshore.” She raced away through the trees, Thornclaw and Icecloud on her tail.

“I’ll get that mouse now, okay?” Dovepaw mewed pointedly.

“It’s probably run for cover.”

“I can still hear it.” Dovepaw headed away up the slope and, with a deft pounce, captured the mouse and gave it a quick killing bite. She flung it down in front of Lionblaze. “You think it’s unfair, don’t you?” she challenged.

“What?”

“Using my powers to hunt!”

“Of course not.” Lionblaze wished he hadn’t been so sharp with her. She was just beginning to get used to hearing far beyond her Clanmates. “They’re part of the prophecy; you may as well use them.”

“But I thought the prophecy didn’t just apply to ThunderClan,” Dovepaw argued. “I thought it applied to every Clan. Wouldn’t it be fairer if I used my senses to catch food for every Clan?”

“I don’t think they’d thank you for the help,” he pointed out. But he understood what she meant. He would leap into battle to defend his Clanmates from a rival Clan. But he always knew he’d win. Was that a fair fight? He shook his head, uncertain how to reassure her. “I think we just have to remember the good we’ve done with our powers already. After all, if you hadn’t sensed the beavers, we’d have all died of thirst by now.”

Dovepaw’s eyes brightened a little.

Relieved, Lionblaze led her along the gully and up the rise. From the top, they could see Sandstorm’s hunting party stalking the slope beside the lake. With a sudden lunge, Sandstorm flushed a pheasant from the grass, and Icecloud, crouching in wait, leaped and made a clean catch before it could escape.

“Well done, Icecloud!” Dovepaw cheered.

Lionblaze stiffened as her mew died away and she pricked her ears. “What is it?”

“Ivypaw’s patrol.”

He flicked his tail. “Have they found more ShadowClan scents?” Had Tigerheart crossed the border again?

Dovepaw shook her head. “No, but they’re looking for them.” She stood still with her ears stretched up. What was she searching for? Lionblaze stared through the trees, but saw nothing but branches and bushes blocking his view.

Dovepaw jerked, her eyes widening.

“What is it?” Lionblaze unsheathed his claws.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly.

Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. She was definitely jumpy.

“Why don’t we try closer to the WindClan border?” Dovepaw mewed suddenly. “I can hear a woodpecker. We can find its nest.”

Lionblaze hesitated. Perhaps it was better to head that way. Brackenfur was already checking the ShadowClan border. He wouldn’t thank his Clanmates for treading on his paws.

They tracked the tapping of the woodpecker to a tree at the edge of the forest. WindClan’s moorland stretched beyond the border, gray beneath a gray sky.

“I’ll climb up,” Dovepaw offered.

“I’ll come with you.” Lionblaze didn’t want to get a reputation as a reluctant tree climber. It was bad enough to have Cinderheart teasing him. He scrabbled up the shiny poplar trunk after Dovepaw and perched on a thick branch high above the forest floor.

The woodpecker’s tapping had stopped, but Dovepaw clambered onto the next branch. “The noise was coming from here,” she called down. “Look!” She shuffled out of the way to let Lionblaze climb after her, then flicked her tail toward a small nest lodged in the crook of the branch. There were no eggs or birds inside, but it was lined with soft feathers.

Lionblaze pushed his head into the nest, wrinkling his nose at the stench, and pulled out a mouthful.

Dovepaw purred. “You look like you just swallowed a starling!”

As Lionblaze twitched his whiskers, he heard voices.

Jayfeather.

The medicine cats were coming down from the Moonpool. He could hear them calling their farewells at the border.

“Let’s wait for them.” Feathers puffed from his mouth as he spoke and drifted down onto the forest floor. He could see Jayfeather padding from the border with Littlecloud and Flametail.

“Come on.” Lionblaze scooted down the tree, landing a whisker in front of the ShadowClan cats.

Littlecloud jumped in surprise. “Are ThunderClan cats turning into squirrels?” He quickly smoothed his ruffled fur with a few sharp licks.

“Didn’t mean to surprise you,” Lionblaze apologized. “We were just collecting feathers.”

“Are you planning to learn how to fly?” Flametail meowed.

As he spoke, Dovepaw clawed her way down the trunk, sending a shower of feathers and bark ahead of her. Flametail ducked like a startled mouse.

“Sorry!” Dovepaw mewed. She glanced at Jayfeather. “How was the meeting at the Moonpool?”

Lionblaze searched his brother’s face. Had he found anything out?

“It was fine,” Jayfeather reported. He turned and dipped his head to the ShadowClan cats. “I’ll head back to camp with my Clanmates,” he told them.

“Okay.” Littlecloud nodded. “We’ll head for our border from here.”

“See you next half-moon,” Jayfeather called as the two cats walked into the trees.

“Say hi to Tigerheart from me!” Dovepaw mewed.

Lionblaze glanced at her. Why was she sending greetings to Tigerheart?

Her pelt ruffled as she caught his eye. “And, er, say hi to Dawnpelt too,” she added quickly.

Jayfeather was already following the trail home. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were glazed with tiredness.

Lionblaze fell in beside him. “So?”

“Wait, what about these?” Dovepaw was staring around at the feathers, scattered below the poplar.

“We can come back for them later,” Lionblaze meowed over his shoulder. “What happened?” He pressed close to Jayfeather, guiding him with his shoulder. His brother seemed happy to lean against him.

“I visited the Dark Forest,” Jayfeather began.

“What do you mean?” Dovepaw gasped.

“That’s where our real enemies lie,” Lionblaze told her.

Dovepaw blinked. “Dead warriors?”

Lionblaze felt a flicker of frustration. Why hadn’t they told Dovepaw earlier? There wasn’t time to explain it all now. “Just listen,” he ordered. He turned his attention back to Jayfeather. “What did you see?”

“I met Brokenstar,” Jayfeather meowed. “He’s the one who fought against me with Breezepelt.”

“The old ShadowClan leader?” Lionblaze’s pelt bristled.

Jayfeather nodded. “And we saw Hawkfrost training warriors.”

Lionblaze’s heart lurched. “Clan warriors?”

“No. Dark Forest warriors.”

“So we still don’t have any proof they’re recruiting Clan cats.”

“No.” Jayfeather sighed. “But they are up to something. Why else would dead warriors be training? Their fighting days are long gone. And they were using some pretty nasty moves.”

Lionblaze felt Jayfeather shudder against him. But he wasn’t afraid. He unsheathed his claws. Strength pulsed through the muscles beneath his pelt. He couldn’t wait to take on Hawkfrost and Tigerstar in a battle! He knew he could beat them both.

Dovepaw padded after them, the fur bristling along her spine. “How could Dark Forest cats recruit Clan warriors?”

“Through their dreams,” Jayfeather told her.

“But why in the name of StarClan would Clan cats listen to them?”

“You don’t know Tigerstar,” Jayfeather warned. “He preys on other cats’ weaknesses. He can make them feel like they’re strong and noble by doing what he wants them to. They probably don’t even realize they’re doing anything wrong.”

Dovepaw’s gaze was fixed on Jayfeather as she padded beside him. “How could any cat be so dumb?”

Lionblaze felt heat spreading under his pelt. Tigerstar had fooled him like that once. Never again.

Jayfeather shrugged. “All cats like praise,” he meowed. “And Tigerstar is smart enough to exploit any grudges. He knows that there will always be warriors glad of a chance to settle old scores.” He didn’t mention Breezepelt’s grudge against his ThunderClan kin.

Dovepaw stretched her eyes wide. “No ThunderClan cat would keep old wounds open once they’d healed.”

Lionblaze was pleased to hear his apprentice speaking like a true warrior. As far as he was concerned, once a battle was fought, it was finished. But Dovepaw’s innocence made her vulnerable right now. “We’re just trying to warn you that not all warriors are perfect, and Tigerstar will be the first to take advantage of that.”

“How can we fight Tigerstar if he’s dead?” Dovepaw protested.

“We need you to keep your senses alert,” Lionblaze mewed. “Listen for unusual signs in the other Clans. Tell us anything you hear or see that seems out of the ordinary. Anything that might suggest the Dark Forest cats are training Clan cats.”

“You mean, spy on them?” Dovepaw sounded horrified.

“Yes,” Jayfeather meowed simply. “And not just in other Clans. In ThunderClan too.”

Dovepaw stood still. “Spy on my own Clanmates? No way!”

“It’s not that we don’t trust them,” Lionblaze tried to explain. “We don’t trust Tigerstar.”

“You don’t trust anyone!” Dovepaw accused. “Do you even trust me?” Her pelt was standing on end. “You’re totally over-reacting. You’re just looking for a way to use your powers. Maybe the prophecy has nothing to do with Tigerstar. Maybe we’re just meant to be the best warriors we can be. Why should I be responsible for every cat’s destiny?” She darted forward, yowling over her shoulder, “I’m going back to camp! I just want to be normal! I’m not going to spy on any cat!”

She hared away through the trees.

“That went well,” Lionblaze muttered. Then he sighed. “Maybe we’re asking too much of her.”

Jayfeather padded on. “She’s part of the prophecy,” he growled. “We didn’t choose her. She has to be strong!” His voice softened. “I don’t want Dovepaw to get hurt. But she’s one of the Three, and she has to play her part.”

One of the Three. Lionblaze’s thoughts flashed back to Hollyleaf. Why couldn’t it have been her? Grief stung as he remembered her wisdom and sharp thinking. She may not have been part of the prophecy, but she was his littermate, and sometimes that counted for more than anything.

CHAPTER 18

Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. Her fur was fluffed with anger. She wasn’t a spy and she wasn’t going to let any cat make her become one! That couldn’t be what the prophecy meant!

She raced through the trees, swerving around bushes and charging through ferns. She didn’t care if she was frightening off prey. With her powers, she could always find more. There was nowhere it could hide from her.

Fury surged through her muscles, driving her harder. Thanks to her power she could take care of everything.

Find prey, Dovepaw!

Save us from the beavers, Dovepaw!

Spy on every cat around the lake. Oh, and while you’re at it, you may as well spy on your own Clanmates.

Yeah, right! Her mind fizzed. Why don’t you spy on your Clanmates? She imagined Lionblaze’s and Jayfeather’s expressions as she told them what she really thought. Oh, that’s right. You want to have friends! I suppose I don’t need friends. I suppose it’s okay if my sister doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.

Resentment burned in her belly.

Her ears pricked up. Leaves were rustling. Bushes swished. The border patrol was nearby. Had she run that far already? She skidded to a halt and sniffed. She was almost on the ShadowClan border. She should have noticed the thickening brambles. She glanced around anxiously. How would she explain being so far from the rest of her patrol?

The ground sloped up beside her. She could hear Ivypaw’s patrol just beyond the rise.

“See anything?” Brackenfur called.

“No tufts of fur,” Ivypaw reported.

Dovepaw ducked into a bramble thicket.

“How fresh are the markers?” Whitewing prompted. Ivypaw scooted over the top of the rise and sniffed at a trunk. Dovepaw watched her sister wrinkle her nose.

“Scented a few days ago, and then again last night by the smell of it,” Ivypaw answered.

Dovepaw felt a rush of pride. Her sister was going to make a brilliant warrior. Everyone would think she was great.

Unlike me.

Dovepaw sighed. Every cat in the Clan would turn against her if they knew that she was supposed to be using a secret power to test their loyalty. A true warrior trusts her Clanmates!

Brackenfur, Bumblestripe, and Whitewing had appeared over the rise now. They were checking every tree and bush. Dovepaw scooted farther into the bramble, gritting her teeth as the barbs scraped her pelt. Brackenfur was padding nearer.

Mouse dung!

She wriggled deeper into the brambles as Brackenfur began sniffing at the edge. Then, in desperation, she scrambled up one of the thick stems. Biting her tongue against the pain of the thorns, she squirmed to the top of the bush and wormed her way along it. Prickers tore her pelt and scratched her muzzle. Wincing, she peered through the tangle of stems and saw Brackenfur following a scent the other way. He must be ignoring ThunderClan scents in his hunt for traces of ShadowClan. She felt a wave of relief and struggled on through the prickers and scrabbled down the far side, the bramble thicket a perfect barrier between her and her Clanmates.

Her paws slid on the smooth needles covering the ground.

Oh, StarClan!

She sniffed the air.

She’d dropped down into ShadowClan territory.

She glanced along the thicket. If she nipped around the far side she could be back in ThunderClan territory without leaving a trace. Keeping low, she slid along the edge of the bush.

“Hello!”

Tigerheart!

Heart thumping, she spun around to greet the ShadowClan warrior. “Sorry! I didn’t mean…I mean, I wasn’t planning…”

Tigerheart shrugged. “It’s okay. I trust you. We’re friends, right?”

Dovepaw felt her ears burn. “I guess.”

Tigerheart’s sleek tabby pelt shone in the light rippling through the pines. He padded toward her and touched her muzzle with his. “It’s nice to see you,” he meowed. He sat down and licked a paw before running it along his whiskers. “I’ve missed talking to you since the quest.”

“Me too.” Dovepaw felt her fur flatten. Once a friend, always a friend. Why should borders stop that? “I mean, there are the Gatherings,” she went on, “but it’s not the same.”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed. He began licking his flank, smoothing a stray tuft into place. “It was fun, wasn’t it? Building nests beneath the stars and waking up each morning in a new place, but with the same familiar faces.” He sounded restless, and Dovepaw wondered if he was frustrated at being confined to his territory.

“I tried to visit Sedgewhisker, you know.”

“You did?” Tigerheart looked up from his washing. “How is she?”

“She was bitten by a dog, but nothing serious.”

“I noticed the wound at the Gathering.” Tigerheart narrowed his eyes. “I wondered what it was.”

“But everyone got so angry with me!” Dovepaw’s pads itched with frustration. “All they were bothered about was that I’d crossed the border. But I was worried about her. We’re all Clan cats, aren’t we? Is it wrong to care about one another?”

Tigerheart gazed into her eyes. “No, it isn’t.”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Dovepaw looked away.

“Do you remember when the dam burst?” Tigerheart’s mew was brisk, as though he could sense her discomfort and wanted to distract her. “The river nearly washed us to StarClan.” He stood up and began to knead the ground. “And we had to cling to nothing but branches to keep our heads above water.” He leaped for a low twig jutting from a pine trunk and swung by his forepaws.

Dovepaw purred with amusement. “What about trying to drag the logs out of the dam? That was like trying to pull the forest up by its roots!”

“I thought you were so brave!” Tigerheart told her.

“You were braver,” she argued.

“No way! I was terrified!”

“I couldn’t tell.” Dovepaw found herself staring into his soft amber eyes. Words dried on her tongue.

“Tigerheart!” The call of a ShadowClan cat made her freeze.

Tigerheart bristled, then quickly nudged her past the brambles and bundled her across the scent line. “See you soon!” he hissed before turning back to meet his Clanmate.

Dovepaw glanced around. No one had seen her. She scooted away from the border and headed home through the trees. Warm with thoughts of Tigerheart, she felt a purr rise in her throat. This was one friendship that Lionblaze and Jayfeather couldn’t spoil, because they were never going to know about it.

She lifted her nose. And if they thought she was going to spy on ShadowClan for them, they were very much mistaken. Clanmates were Clanmates, but friends were just as precious.

CHAPTER 19

“Clanmates are everything. And we’re your Clanmates now.”

Hawkfrost gazed deep into Ivypaw’s eyes, and she began to relax. The gray, mist-wrapped forest suddenly seemed less strange. The sound of warriors training beyond the half-shadowed trees felt familiar. She was with Clanmates.

At first, when Ivypaw had dreamed herself beyond the flower-flecked meadow and into the forest, she’d been nervous. She’d crept between the towering trunks with her fur prickling, stiffening every time a yowl drifted from the misty depths of the woods.

But then Hawkfrost had found her, padding out of the shadows, his blue gaze sparking with pleasure as he saw her.

“Don’t be scared of them,” he’d reassured her when she’d jumped at a sudden, muffled noise.

“But who are they?” Ivypaw flicked her tail toward two wraithlike forms wrestling in a clearing a few tree-lengths away.

“Your Clanmates,” Hawkfrost answered.

“They’re ThunderClan?” Ivypaw blinked. This couldn’t be such a bad place if ThunderClan came here.

Hawkfrost didn’t answer, just scraped a line in the moldering earth. “See if you can make it past this mark,” he challenged.

More training!

Ivypaw crouched down, wincing at the ache in her shoulders. The pain followed her from dream to waking and back. As she’d hunted with Icecloud and Toadstep that day after sunhigh, she’d struggled to keep up. Nightly training with Hawkfrost had taken its toll, but Ivypaw knew she was growing stronger, and his praise was worth much more because it was so hard-won.

She swished her tail over the ground and stared at Hawkfrost. He sat calmly watching her behind the line he had drawn. She narrowed her eyes, keeping her rump still as he’d taught her.

Wait a moment. Then another. She ran through an old lesson in her head. Until they’re not sure what you’re going to do.

Ivypaw lunged, forepaws stretching, claws unsheathed. She looked for Hawkfrost’s first sign of movement, knew he’d double-bluff, pretending to move one way, then another, then back. She kept her hind paws on the ground until she was sure of his direction, then used them to steer her pounce and caught him off balance, swiping his muzzle with one front paw.

He batted her back with a hefty blow to her shoulder, and she fell sprawling to the ground. She sat up, shaking the dizziness from her head.

Hawkfrost was staring at the line. The earth was scuffed, but only on her side.

“You didn’t cross it,” he growled. “Try again.”

Ivypaw tucked her hind legs under her, concentrating. She barely saw the shadow move at the edge of her vision.

A voice rumbled from the mist. “Hello, Hawkfrost.”

Stiffening, Ivypaw spun around. A massive dark tom padded out. Brambleclaw? No. This cat had the same broad shoulders and tabby pelt, but his eyes glittered like a fox’s.

“Who—” Ivypaw didn’t get a chance to finish her question. Hawkfrost slammed into her, flinging her down and pinning her shoulders to the ground. He leaned in close, baring his teeth. “I’ve warned you before about getting distracted,” he growled.

She struggled to her paws, eager to examine the newcomer, but wary of taking her eyes from Hawkfrost.

The blue-eyed tom nodded. “Meet Tigerstar.”

With his permission, Ivypaw turned to stare at the dark warrior. He was bigger than Brambleclaw and his pelt was crisscrossed with scars. “T-Tigerstar?” She’d heard many stories about this warrior, stories that made her paws tremble.

She was surprised when his gaze softened. “Don’t believe everything you hear, little one,” he rumbled.

Could he read her mind? “I—I wasn’t,” she stammered. “I mean, I didn’t…”

Tigerstar weaved around her, his pelt brushing hers. “You’re among friends now, Ivypaw,” he murmured. “I know what the Clan cats say about me. But they can’t see into my heart.” He sat down. “Success is lonely. I was punished for wanting to lead my Clan. They misunderstood my desire to guide them through hardship. And so they forced me to leave.”

“You mean ThunderClan?” Ivypaw struggled to remember the details of the nursery tales she’d heard.

“They were my birth Clan.” Tigerstar sighed. “If I’d led them, they would not have lost so many. Instead they drove me out. But they could not destroy my loyalty to the Clan that raised me.”

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “But you led ShadowClan.”

“What else could I do?” Tigerstar shrugged. “Turn rogue? What true warrior would do that?” He leaned toward her, his eyes round and sincere. “We are Clanmates in every way.” He turned to Hawkfrost. “How’s she doing?”

Hawkfrost flicked Ivypaw’s flank with his tail. “Show him.”

“Show him what?” Ivypaw suddenly felt nervous.

Hawkfrost cocked his head. “How fast you can turn. How accurately you can pounce.”

Ivypaw dropped to her belly, then sprang up, pushing with her hind legs as hard as she could. She landed and turned instantly on one hind paw, then leaped again, landing on a twig that she’d fixed in her gaze. She plucked it up with her forepaw and snapped it in midair. Then she came to rest, paws straight, tail down, muscles tensed to leap again if she had to.

“Very neat,” Tigerstar murmured. He padded toward her and without warning stretched out a massive forepaw and tossed one of the broken pieces of twig into the air. It arced over her head.

“Catch it!” he ordered.

Without thinking, Ivypaw jumped, twisted in midair, and stretched to pluck the twig from the air, catching it without effort and landing on three legs. Pleased with herself, she dropped the twig at Tigerstar’s paws.

Tigerstar’s amber gaze glowed. “She’s ready,” he purred to Hawkfrost.

Excitement thrilled through Ivypaw. “Ready for what?”

Tigerstar swung his gaze toward her. His eyes narrowed very slightly. “I hadn’t planned on telling you yet….” He glanced at Hawkfrost as though debating. “But I suppose the sooner we act, the safer your Clanmates will be.”

Ivypaw leaned forward. Was ThunderClan in danger?

“ShadowClan is planning to invade your territory.”

“Invade?” Ivypaw’s heart quickened. She knew there’d been activity near the border, but not enough to suggest an immediate threat. “Why?”

With a sigh, Tigerstar began to explain. “Many moons ago, Firestar gave a large strip of your territory to ShadowClan. He told his Clanmates they had no use for it. That it would be a hassle to defend.”

Ivypaw blinked. “He gave it away?” She knew it was only the piece of land Twolegs used to build greenleaf nests, but anything that pushed the ShadowClan border farther from the prey-rich forest must be important. And she had always assumed ShadowClan had won it by force. “Why?”

Tigerstar shook his head sadly. “Firestar’s been afraid of ShadowClan since he left his kittypet life. The stories of their ferociousness always seemed to get under his fur.”

“But Firestar’s not frightened of anything!” Ivypaw objected.

“Really?” Tigerstar looked surprised. “I suppose he must appear that way to an apprentice. But I knew him before he was a warrior, when he was young enough to believe nursery stories.”

“He wouldn’t still believe such nonsense!” Ivypaw exclaimed.

“Of course not.” Tigerstar tucked his tail over his paws. “What warrior would? But still he decided that it was easier to give up territory than risk lives defending it. And unfortunately ShadowClan saw it as weakness, not wisdom.”

Suspicion pricked in Ivypaw’s pelt. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked. “You were once ShadowClan’s leader. Why do you want to give away their plans?”

Tigerstar’s gaze sharpened. “ThunderClan is my birth Clan. My loyalty lies with them even though they drove me out and forced me to beg for a home with another Clan.” He glanced at his paws. “I’d rather be a humble warrior than live outside the Clans, without the warrior code to guide my paws.” He looked up. “ThunderClan must be warned of the danger.”

“You really think they’ll invade?”

Hawkfrost padded closer. “They’ve already had a taste of ThunderClan territory.”

“How much more do they want?” Ivypaw’s heart was pounding. She had to defend her Clan!

Tigerstar tipped his head to one side. “Only the land up to the abandoned Twoleg nest,” he told her.

“But that’s where Jayfeather grows his herbs!”

“Do you think they don’t know that?” Tigerstar murmured.

Ivypaw felt foolish. Of course! “What can I do?”

Tigerstar closed his eyes for a moment. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Of course I am!”

“Then,” Tigerstar mewed, “you must persuade Firestar to take back the territory he gave away to ShadowClan.”

“Will that stop them?”

“It’ll send them an important message,” Tigerstar growled. “It’ll prove that ThunderClan doesn’t fear them.”

Ivypaw clawed at the earth. “We don’t!”

Hawkfrost pushed his muzzle close to Ivypaw’s. “But does ShadowClan know that?”

“They will if we attack first!” Ivypaw exclaimed.

Tigerstar looked pleased. “Exactly.”

Ivypaw frowned. “How can I get ThunderClan to launch an attack?”

“Speak to Firestar.”

“He won’t listen to me!” Ivypaw flattened her ears. “And if I tell him the message came from you, he’ll never believe it!”

“Then don’t tell him.” Tigerstar stood up. “He’ll believe anything you want him to, if you put it the right way.”

Ivypaw’s mind was whirling. How would she find the words to persuade Firestar? “I don’t know…” she breathed.

Tigerstar caught her gaze and held it. “You’ll find a way, Clanmate.”

CHAPTER 20

“I’ll find a way,” Ivypaw murmured as Tigerstar led Hawkfrost away into the mist.

“A way to where?” Blossomfall’s mew sounded in her ear.

Ivypaw blinked open her eyes. Early morning light filtered through the branches overhanging the den.

Blossomfall huffed at her and turned back to Bumblestripe. “It’s bad enough that we have to sleep in the apprentices’ den again,” she complained, “without them chattering like sparrows in their sleep.”

Alarmed, Ivypaw sat up. What else had she said?

Cold air nipped her nose. She smelled the sharp tang of frost. The first of the season.

Dovepaw was stirring in the nest beside her. “What’s going on?” she mewed sleepily. She raised her gray head and gazed around the den, blinking.

“Nothing,” Ivypaw told her. She hopped out of her nest.

“Where are you going?” Dovepaw called.

“To talk to Firestar.”

Dovepaw sat up. “Why?”

Blossomfall’s whiskers twitched. “I suppose Firestar’s used to consulting with apprentices these days,” she commented with an edge to her voice.

Ivypaw ignored them both. She slid under the branch spanning the entrance and padded into the clearing.

Cinderheart was sharing tongues with Sorreltail and Poppyfrost outside the nursery. Molekit and Cherrykit tumbled over the frost-whitened ground, fighting to reach a rolling ball of moss. Millie was disappearing through the trailing brambles of the medicine den, while Cloudtail and Brightheart shared a mouse beneath Highledge.

“Ivypaw!” Cinderheart called.

“I’m busy,” Ivypaw told her. She was already halfway to the rockfall.

Cinderheart stood up. “Where are you going?”

“I need to see Firestar.” Ivypaw didn’t stop. “It’s urgent.”

She began to scramble up the rocks. Cloudtail and Brightheart looked up from their meal and stared at her, round-eyed.

Self-conscious now that her Clanmates were watching, Ivypaw kept going. The future of ThunderClan depended on her. She paused at the entrance to Firestar’s den, acutely aware of Cinderheart’s gaze burning her fur from the bottom of the hollow. “Firestar?” She tried to keep the tremble from her mew. He might think she’d gone mad.

“Ivypaw?” Firestar’s mew echoed from inside the cave.

“Yes,” she replied. “I need to talk to you.”

“Come in.” The ThunderClan leader sounded surprised.

Ivypaw’s heart quickened as she stepped into the shadowy den. Graystripe and Brambleclaw were sitting with Firestar.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep up the extra patrols,” Graystripe was urging. The three senior warriors were clearly in the middle of a heated discussion.

Firestar nodded, then turned his attention to Ivypaw. “Well?”

She glanced around at the smooth rock walls and at the soft nest of bracken and moss in the far corner. She’d never been in here before. “Ummm.” She suddenly wished she’d planned exactly what she was going to say.

Firestar turned back to his warriors. “While Ivypaw finds her voice, let’s carry on.”

“Are the extra patrols worth the effort?” Brambleclaw flicked his tail. “With leaf-bare coming, we should be hunting, and it looks like ShadowClan has stopped crossing the border—”

Heat surged under Ivypaw’s pelt. “That’s not true!”

The three warriors turned and stared at her.

“Have you seen them?” Firestar demanded.

“No.” How in the name of StarClan was she going to explain that she knew something these cats didn’t?

“I—I had a dream.”

Brambleclaw flattened his ears. Graystripe put his head to one side.

“Go on,” Firestar prompted gently.

Ivypaw blurted out the first words that came to her. “I dreamed that I was standing at the edge of ThunderClan territory…on that strip of grass beside the place where Twolegs come in greenleaf.” She tried to read the warriors’ expressions. Were they taking her seriously? “The place that used to belong to ThunderClan. The place you gave to ShadowClan.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that? It was before you were born.”

“Probably heard it from Mousefur,” Brambleclaw muttered.

Ivypaw shook her head. “It was all in the dream. How you gave it to ShadowClan because it was useless hunting, not worth defending.”

“Go on.” Firestar was leaning forward now, his ears pricked.

“I saw the stream and it was running with blood.” Ivypaw felt her words coming quickly. Now that she’d started, this was easier than she’d thought. “ThunderClan blood. And ShadowClan cats were patrolling the edge, purring, and they were saying that soon the whole forest would run with ThunderClan blood and they’d own it all, because ThunderClan was no more dangerous than a swarm of beetles, and beetles could be crushed.”

As Ivypaw took a steadying breath, she realized that the three warriors were staring at her, captivated. Encouraged, she went on. “So I ran back to the hollow, but ShadowClan cats were everywhere: all through the forest, hiding behind bushes, hunting for squirrels, training for battle, all the way up to the Twoleg nest. They were gathering Jayfeather’s herbs and saying ShadowClan would never be sick again.” She ran out of words. Had they believed her?

Graystripe’s eyes were half closed. “There may be some truth in it.” He glanced at Firestar. “You used to have dreams that came true when you were an apprentice.”

Brambleclaw flexed his claws. “Young cats also have vivid imaginations.”

“But her sister warned us about the beavers,” Graystripe reminded him. “That wasn’t imagination.”

“Is it worth risking trouble with ShadowClan?” Brambleclaw questioned. “We have no real evidence. I’ve already told you that ShadowClan cats have stopped crossing the border.”

Graystripe shifted his paws. “That may be part of their strategy,” he suggested. “To lull us into a false sense of security.”

Ivypaw didn’t take her gaze from Firestar. The ThunderClan leader wrapped his tail over his paws. “Who else knows about this dream?”

“No one,” Ivypaw assured him. “I came straight to you.”

“Were there any other cats in it besides you and ShadowClan warriors?” His leaf green stare was unwavering. “Any cats from StarClan?”

“She’s too young to know any,” Graystripe pointed out.

“Longtail?” Firestar wondered.

Ivypaw shook her head. “Just ShadowClan warriors.”

“Did you recognize any of them?” Firestar pressed.

“Crowfrost…er…Scorchfur.” Ivypaw’s heart pounded as she tried to remember cats she’d seen at the Gatherings. It couldn’t be wrong to lie, not when she was doing it to save her Clan. Anything to make them believe her.

“Okay.” Firestar turned to Graystripe and Brambleclaw. “What do you think?”

Excitement itched beneath Ivypaw’s pelt.

“It would explain why they were crossing the border,” Graystripe growled. “They might have been looking for the best places to fight.”

“And it’s interesting that she saw the Twolegplace.” Brambleclaw glanced at Ivypaw. “Surrendering it did make us seem vulnerable.”

“It was a good decision,” Graystripe defended his leader hotly. “It saved bloodshed. And we were never going to hunt in such an open space. Especially not if it’s crawling with Twolegs when prey is richest.”

“But giving it up may have sent the wrong message,” Firestar conceded. “Maybe I shouldn’t have handed it over so easily. That act of kindness seems to have left echoes of weakness.”

They believe me! Ivypaw couldn’t stay quiet. “If we take back the Twolegplace, then they’ll know we can’t be beaten!”

Firestar stood up. “Thank you, Ivypaw,” he meowed. “We’ll need to discuss this with the other warriors, and until we do I want you to keep it to yourself.” He brushed past her. “Don’t even tell Dovepaw.”

Ivypaw nodded earnestly while the warriors filed past her out of the cave.

Firestar glanced over his shoulder. “Tell me if you have any more dreams,” he ordered.

“I will.” Ivypaw’s heart was pounding. She’d done it! They were thinking about attacking ShadowClan! She couldn’t wait to tell Tigerstar the good news.

CHAPTER 21

Briarlight was coughing.

The roughness in her mew that had begun last night had developed into a heaviness in her chest that Jayfeather could hear growing thicker every time he lowered his head to listen.

“Here,” he mewed, pushing another pawful of herbs toward her. “Swallow these.”

“No more,” she complained. “I couldn’t swallow a thing.”

“I’ve flavored them with mouse,” Jayfeather coaxed.

Briarlight let out a low moan, as if the thought of food made her feel worse. Jayfeather pushed away Littlecloud’s dark memory of Wildfur’s slow decline after his accident. He wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to Briarlight.

Millie pushed her way through the brambles. “I’ve come to help Briarlight with her exercises….” Her mew trailed away as she recognized sickness in her kit. “What’s wrong with her?” Her voice was tense.

“Just a slight fever.” Jayfeather deliberately kept his tone light. “A bit of exercise might help her fight it off.”

“Shouldn’t she rest?” Millie questioned.

Briarlight clawed at her nest. “I’ve been resting all night!” she mewed. A cough gripped her but she swallowed against it.

Jayfeather heard Millie’s paws hesitate for a moment before padding briskly across the den. “Come on, then.”

Briarlight’s breath rasped as she began to go through her strengthening exercises with her mother. Suddenly she stopped, and Jayfeather heard her flop down in her nest. “This is too much work!”

Jayfeather tensed. Briarlight had never given up before. “Come on,” he urged. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“It’s all too much work,” Briarlight wailed. “Exercises morning and night. Dragging myself to the fresh-kill pile as if it were a mountain away. I can’t even breathe or lie comfortably, let alone hunt or play with my littermates!”

Fear was flashing from Millie’s pelt. “But think how much you have to be grateful for,” she meowed as brightly as she could. “You can still share tongues with your littermates and enjoy a tasty mouse. And the whole Clan admires you.” Jayfeather could sense the she-cat desperately searching for more reasons for Briarlight to be happy and grateful.

He padded forward and touched Millie’s shoulder with his muzzle. “Why don’t you see if you can catch her something really tasty?” he suggested. “I’ll mix up some fresh herbs.” He turned to Briarlight. “You’ve been working hard. A day’s rest will do you good.”

As Millie left the den, Jayfeather began to rub Briarlight’s chest, hoping to stimulate her breathing.

“Your mother would gladly suffer your injuries for you,” he murmured.

“That’s dumb,” Briarlight rasped. “Why would any cat want to be like this?”

“It’s just how mothers think.” His thoughts flashed to Leafpool. Would she have taken his blindness to spare him?

“Careful!” Briarlight’s mew brought him back. “I smoothed that fur down earlier and now you’re rubbing it the wrong way.”

“Sorry.” Jayfeather felt a glimmer of relief at hearing her old spark.

“Washing myself is about all I can do these days,” she went on. “You don’t have to mess it up.”

Jayfeather purred and smoothed her fur back down with his tongue.

The brambles rustled.

“Jayfeather?”

Dustpelt was standing in the entrance. “Firestar’s called a meeting of the senior warriors,” he meowed. “He wants you there too.”

Jayfeather hesitated. Who was going to watch Briarlight?

“I’ll be okay.” The young warrior guessed what he was thinking. “In fact, I’ll enjoy the peace.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

He pushed his way out of the den and sniffed carefully. Firestar was sitting in the crook of a beech bough, out of hearing of the rest of the Clan. Graystripe, Brambleclaw, Squirrelflight, Dustpelt, Thornclaw, Sandstorm, Brightheart, and Cloudtail sat below him, flavoring the air with their anticipation. Jayfeather took his place beside them.

“Thank you for joining us.” Firestar’s tail brushed the beech bark. The leader was agitated. “Ivypaw has had a dream.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Dustpelt called.

Firestar’s claws scraped the bark. “I think it’s a sign from StarClan.”

“Ivypaw?” Thornclaw’s mew was scornful.

“Why not?” Brightheart prickled in defense of her kin.

“Our daughter’s kit wouldn’t lie,” Cloudtail growled.

Thornclaw’s pelt bristled. “I’m not saying she’d lie,” he retorted. “I just want to know the reason Firestar’s taken it so seriously.”

Graystripe’s paws shifted. “She seemed to know more than she should.”

Thornclaw huffed. “Apprentices always know more than they should!”

“This was different.” Brambleclaw’s tail swept the earth.

Jayfeather listened in silence. Ivypaw? Dreaming? What was StarClan doing sending her messages? He pricked his ears.

“Okay, okay.” Dustpelt snorted impatiently. “Let’s say this dream was a message from StarClan. What was it?”

“She dreamed that ShadowClan had invaded,” Firestar told them. “That the stream along the clearing where Twolegs come in greenleaf was running with ThunderClan blood.”

Jayfeather felt anxiety sweep through the warriors.

“Do we know what it means?” Thornclaw demanded.

“It’s pretty easy to guess,” Dustpelt scoffed. “ShadowClan wants to push the advantage they got from being given the clearing in the first place. They want more of our territory.”

Anger flashed from Firestar, but he kept his voice level as he answered the dusky warrior. “The decisions I make may not always be right, but they are based on reason and experience.”

“No cat doubts your reason,” Dustpelt conceded. “But any cat with any experience must know that ShadowClan will always take advantage wherever they can.”

A growl rumbled in Graystripe’s throat. “There’s always the hope that if we treat them like true warriors they’ll start acting with honor instead of preying on weakness wherever they find it.”

“Enough!” Firestar lost patience. “We’re here to discuss the safety of ThunderClan, not ShadowClan’s honor. If Ivypaw’s dream is right, we must act.”

“Good!” Dustpelt’s claws scraped the ground.

“Jayfeather?”

He looked up.

“Have you had any warning from StarClan about ShadowClan?”

“No.” Not about ShadowClan.

“We don’t need warnings from StarClan!” rumbled Dustpelt. “We’ve had enough warnings from ShadowClan!”

“They have been crossing the border lately,” Squirrelflight agreed.

“It might be best to nip any trouble in the bud,” Sandstorm ventured.

“But how?” wondered Brightheart.

Dustpelt stood up. “Well, we gave the clearing to them. We should take it back!”

“It was ours to begin with,” Cloudtail agreed.

“And with leaf-bare coming,” Graystripe chipped in, “the extra hunting would be useful.”

Jayfeather could feel unease pulsing from Firestar’s pelt. “I don’t like to go back on my word,” he growled.

“This is ShadowClan we’re dealing with!” Thornclaw reminded him. “A warrior’s word means nothing to them.”

“And if Ivypaw’s right,” Firestar murmured, “then we risk our lives by delaying.”

Jayfeather sighed. He knew what this meant. In his head, he began to tally the herbs in his store. Was there enough marigold? It was the best medicine for gashes and bites.

“We must attack before they do,” Firestar decided.

“Now?” Dustpelt was pacing.

“Not yet,” Firestar cautioned. “I must warn them first.”

“Warn them?” Brambleclaw sounded shocked. “You’ll have lost the battle before you’ve begun it!”

“We can win any battle,” Firestar told him. “I’m going to give Blackstar a chance to surrender the clearing peacefully.”

Cloudtail spluttered with disbelief. “As if!”

“I must give him the chance,” Firestar insisted. “No blood will be spilled needlessly.” He leaped down from the bough.

Where’s Lionblaze? Jayfeather suddenly realized that his brother wasn’t in the hollow. He needed to know what was happening here. Jayfeather hurried after Firestar. “Can I go and find Lionblaze?”

“No time,” Firestar replied. “I want you to come with me.” He called to his deputy. “Brambleclaw! Let Graystripe finish organizing the patrols. I want you with us.”

Jayfeather flattened his ears. It was a huge show of trust for Firestar to visit the ShadowClan camp with his deputy and medicine cat. Especially with a proposal like this one. Foreboding swelled in his belly.

What if this was exactly what Tigerstar wanted? After all, he’d won Tigerheart over to his side. How many other ShadowClan cats had he recruited?

Brambleclaw seemed less concerned about where they were going than what they were leaving behind. “Is it wise to leave the camp so vulnerable?”

“Vulnerable?” Graystripe echoed. “Are you calling us mouse-hearts?”

There was warmth in the gray warrior’s mew. But he had a point. Even with Firestar and Brambleclaw gone, the camp would be well guarded.

But, Jayfeather wondered with a chill, what if they never came back?

Frost-hardened leaves crunched underpaw as they padded through the forest. When they approached the ShadowClan border, Firestar and Brambleclaw tasted the air. Hope prickled from their pelts. Jayfeather guessed they were looking for traces of ShadowClan this side of the scent line. Was Ivypaw’s dream enough of a reason to attack? Had it really come from StarClan?

Firestar paused at the border, then crossed it. The air was fragrant with pine, the ground soft underpaw, thick with fallen needles. Jayfeather felt his leader push away his last tremor of doubt. Brambleclaw padded at his side, determined and calm, while Jayfeather trailed behind.

“Keep up,” Brambleclaw ordered. “We’re on enemy territory.”

As he spoke Jayfeather felt alarm flare from among the trees ahead. “Patrol!” he warned.

Firestar halted. “We’ve come to speak with Blackstar!” His voice echoed through the pines.

Jayfeather recognized the scent of Toadfoot and Ratscar. Their paws scuffed the needles, wariness fizzing in their pelts.

“What do you want with him?” Ratscar growled.

“To talk,” Firestar answered.

Jayfeather pictured Toadfoot and Ratscar exchange questioning glances before Ratscar replied.

“Very well.”

Jayfeather was familiar with the twisting route to the ShadowClan camp, but he had never felt this uneasy before, this unconvinced of his reason for being there. He followed the warriors through the prickly entrance. Surprised murmurs rippled through the ShadowClan cats.

“Firestar?” Tawnypelt’s questioning mew rang across the clearing.

Ratscar was heading for his leader’s den. “He wants to speak to Blackstar,” he growled.

But Blackstar was already padding out. “Why has ThunderClan’s leader come to ShadowClan?” His mew was sharp with suspicion.

“I need to talk to you,” Firestar answered. “In private.”

Blackstar’s tail lashed the air. “In private?” He padded slowly around Brambleclaw and Jayfeather, his whiskers twitching audibly with distrust. “Why so secret?”

“Feel free to match my Clanmates with your own,” Firestar offered.

“How generous of you,” Blackstar sneered. “Russetfur! Littlecloud!” he called. “We have company.”

Jayfeather sensed stiffness in Russetfur’s limbs as she ambled across the clearing. Frailty oozed from her, and he could smell the scent of strengthening herbs on her breath. The ShadowClan deputy had grown old, and with a flash of surprise Jayfeather realized that she would probably not survive leaf-bare. Littlecloud hurried from the medicine den, paws still fragrant with the herbs he’d been mixing. Some cat had whitecough, by the smell of the coltsfoot and catmint on his fur.

Jayfeather let his mind roam the camp, searching the nursery first. No sickness there. Then he heard coughing from the apprentices’ den. Pinepaw was sick, but not fevered. The strong young apprentice would easily shake off his illness.

Jayfeather followed Blackstar, Firestar, and Brambleclaw into the ShadowClan leader’s den, nose wrinkling in readiness for the stench. He would never understand ShadowClan’s taste for rat.

“What do you want?” Blackstar was brisk, and Firestar matched his briskness with his own.

“I want you to give the Twoleg clearing back to ThunderClan.”

Shock pulsed from the ShadowClan leader. Russetfur’s claws scraped the floor.

“What?” Blackstar rasped.

“We gave it as a gift,” Firestar went on. “But you’ve pushed at our forest borders once too often.”

“That’s not true!” Russetfur hissed. “You just want extra hunting lands. Have your greedy warriors hunted the forest clean?”

“We have enough prey for ourselves,” Firestar meowed evenly. “But our forest can’t spare prey for ShadowClan hunting parties.”

Rage filled the den, so thick in the air that Jayfeather’s heart began to quicken and he felt as if there weren’t enough air to breathe.

“You’re accusing us of crossing borders?” Blackstar spat. “We were beginning to think ThunderClan had forgotten what scent lines mean.”

Jayfeather felt tension seize Brambleclaw, as though he was holding back from lashing out at the ShadowClan leader. “We want our land back,” he growled.

“It’s our land now,” Russetfur spat.

“Then we’ll take it from you by force,” Firestar warned.

Blackstar’s tail scraped the side of the den, his fur snagging on the thorns. “If you want a battle, you’ll have one.”

“Very well,” Firestar answered. “My warriors will be setting the new boundary tomorrow at dawn. It’s your choice whether to stop them.”

“Don’t play that game!” Blackstar hissed. “You’re the one leading your Clan into battle.”

“Toadfoot! Crowfrost! Ratscar!” Blackstar yowled as they crossed the clearing. “Escort them from our territory.” The rage in his voice set pelts prickling around the edge of the camp.

Paws itching with unease, Jayfeather followed Firestar, trying to keep his pace slow even though he wanted to run. The air in the camp had soured into enmity.

Toadfoot fell in beside him, knocking roughly against his shoulder. “Why can’t you mind your own business?” the ShadowClan warrior growled.

Jayfeather shifted away from his escort. Closing his eyes, he prayed that Ivypaw’s dream had been right.

CHAPTER 22

Ivypaw drew in a breath. The cold seared her tongue but the tang of fresh ThunderClan markers tasted warm. She puffed out her chest. Her Clanmates were lined along the border like hawks, poised to defend their new territory. Their breath billowed in the milky light of dawn, while mist drifted from among the dark trunks of ShadowClan’s forest and rolled over the grass toward them.

“Are you okay?”

Dovepaw was trembling beside her.

“Fine.” Dovepaw shifted her paws.

“Do you think ShadowClan will come?”

Dovepaw didn’t answer. She was staring into the trees, her ears pricked, claws unsheathed.

For a moment, Ivypaw wished Dovepaw weren’t there. She hadn’t had extra training from Hawkfrost. How in the name of StarClan could she fight ShadowClan warriors? Ivypaw suddenly pictured Dovepaw horribly wounded, with claw marks scarring her flanks. She shuddered. Whatever arguments they’d had recently, they were still littermates.

She curved her claws into the damp earth, dragging her thoughts back to the present. This was her battle. The new border was here because of her, and she was ready to defend it with her blood.

“Hold the line!” Lionblaze snarled at Blossomfall as the young tortoiseshell warrior took a step forward, whiskers twitching.

“I thought I heard something,” Blossomfall protested.

“Get back in line!” Firestar growled. He swung his head to stare along the ranks of warriors. “Stay inside the border.”

Blossompaw shuffled back into place.

Dovepaw flinched.

Someone was coming.

Ivypaw caught her breath as Blackstar padded out of the forest, flanked by Russetfur and Rowanclaw. His pelt glowed white in the half-light. He looked far more powerful than he did at Gatherings, his hackles raised, eyes glittering with anger. Ivypaw fought the urge to back away. Hawkfrost has trained me! She grasped the thought and hung on to it.

Courage began to seep back into her paws as Blackstar halted and wrinkled his nose. The clearing was drenched in ThunderClan scent.

“You have made your choice,” he snarled to Firestar. “You gave us this territory. It’s not yours to take back.”

Firestar lifted his chin. “We have given you a chance to avoid fighting. Even now, no blood needs to be shed.”

Blackstar curled his lip. “Blood will fall, and every drop of it will be on your conscience.” He flicked his tail.

From the shadows and mist of the forest ShadowClan warriors leaped out with their claws unsheathed, their teeth bared. The muted dawn was ripped apart by screeches.

Ivypaw froze. The warriors were huge! Then she felt the warm bulk of Hawkfrost pressing against her flank. She knew that if she turned her head, she would be unable to see him, but he was there, all the same.

“Defend what is yours,” he growled. “You know how.”

The first wave of warriors hit.

A dark tabby tom lunged toward her. Ivypaw was ready. She turned and flicked out her hind legs, catching him on the cheek and sending him reeling backward, a yowl of surprise choking in his throat.

Hawkfrost’s breath stirred her pelt. “Don’t spill all their blood at once, little one.”

“Okay.” Ivypaw swerved away from the fallen warrior and reared to meet a ShadowClan tom twice her size.

Ratscar!

Undaunted, she raked claws across his nose, drawing blood.

His eyes lit with surprise. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you”—he batted her back with a hefty blow—“just because you’re an apprentice.”

Dizzy from the clout, she rolled sideways. His forepaws split the grass a whisker from her ear. She leaped to her paws and reared again.

Blossomfall appeared. “Want some help?”

“Yes, please,” Ivypaw grunted. She began swiping with her forepaws and, as Blossomfall joined in, ducked and scooted behind Ratscar and crouched beneath his legs. Blossomfall drove him backward and, as he tripped, Ivypaw pushed herself up in a surging jump that sent him spinning away, shocked and unbalanced. Before he could find his paws she was clinging to his back, churning her hind paws mercilessly.

“Get underneath him!” she snapped at Blossomfall.

The young warrior obeyed and slid beneath the raging ShadowClan tom, unbalancing him again. Ivypaw let go before Ratscar tumbled onto his back, then plunged her forepaws down hard onto his belly. The breath huffed from his mouth and he lay stunned for a moment before scrabbling up clumsily, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

“Wow!” Blossomfall breathed. “Cinderheart must be an awesome mentor!”

Ivypaw glanced at the young warrior, her mind fizzing. I have a better mentor than you could ever imagine!

Ratscar was snaking away into the writhing mass of pelts. Ivypaw searched the battlefield. ShadowClan had spilled over the new border and was pressing ThunderClan back into the long grass.

Dovepaw? She searched for her sister.

In the swirl of pelts and mist, Ivypaw couldn’t pick her out. She plunged into the fray, shouldering her way between the wrestling bodies. The fighting was vicious. Dovepaw hadn’t been trained by Hawkfrost. She must need help.

CHAPTER 23

Dovepaw dug her paws deeper into the grass as Blackstar strode from the trees, flanked by Russetfur and Rowanclaw. She would not give way, no matter what. Ivypaw was pressing against her flank. Dovepaw was aware of her sister’s stillness beside her own trembling body. Wasn’t Ivypaw scared?

She could hear ShadowClan coming, stalking through their territory, their paws scuffing the needle-strewn forest floor, their pelts brushing against pine trunks, their breath coming short and fast. She could picture them slicing through the sparse undergrowth, scoring marks on the ground with unsheathed claws. Their stench rolled over her, choking her until she felt as if she could no longer breathe.

Blackstar was challenging Firestar.

Blood roared in her ears. She could see her leader’s mouth moving but heard nothing but her own blood pulsing through her.

Then ShadowClan warriors erupted like a flock of ravens from the misty pine forest.

“Make every blow count!” Dovepaw hardly heard Lionblaze’s order before he leaped away.

Crouching low, she fought to remember her battle moves as her mind emptied of everything except panic. Cats lunged on either side of her and she shrank back, staring wildly around her.

Then the noise began. Every breath, every rip of fur, every scrape of tooth on bone. Growls and shrieks tore at her senses. As she struggled to shut out the chaos of sound, the scent of fear and of blood swamped her tongue. Was that Dustpelt’s breath knocked from him as a warrior hurled him to the ground? Was that pain in Sorreltail’s shriek, or was it triumph?

A cream pelt flashed toward her. Paws slammed her shoulders and knocked her flying; then claws gripped her flank. The ShadowClan she-cat smelled like Tigerheart.

Dawnpelt?

Instinctively Dovepaw battered the warrior’s belly with her hind paws until the she-cat let go. It was Dawnpelt! Dovepaw jumped to her paws and ducked under Dawnpelt’s belly, breaking from the line, racing forward, slipping through the ShadowClan ranks as she desperately tried to escape the shrieking mass of warriors.

Her ears twitched with too much noise. Was that the sound of more ShadowClan warriors pounding through the undergrowth toward her?

Her paws skidded underneath her. The ShadowClan cats had driven ThunderClan back toward the middle of the clearing. Dovepaw couldn’t get a grip on the slippery grass. Her claws couldn’t reach through to solid ground.

Dawnpelt was on her tail.

She turned and reared and met the ShadowClan warrior in a clumsy flurry of swiping blows. Dawnpelt fought back. Knocked her muzzle. Unbalanced her.

Help me, StarClan!

She tried to spring up but Dawnpelt held her down, raking her spine with hind claws. Pain seared her pelt and a yowl escaped her. Writhing to escape, she glimpsed golden fur.

Lionblaze was staring down at her. “You seem to have strayed from your Clanmates,” he growled.

There was a blur of movement above Dovepaw, and suddenly Dawnpelt let go. Raising her head with a wince, Dovepaw saw Lionblaze fling the ShadowClan warrior away.

“Can you manage now?” he asked.

She nodded, hoping she could, and Lionblaze dashed back toward the battle line.

Ivypaw slowed to a halt beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dovepaw panted. She fought to block out the yowling of her Clanmates.

“Look out!” Ivypaw warned.

Dovepaw spun around as Foxleap backed into her. His forepaws were raised as he swiped at an advancing ShadowClan warrior.

Crowfrost.

Two ShadowClan apprentices—Starlingpaw and Pinepaw—flanked the black-and-white tom, their eyes fixed on Foxleap as they drove the ThunderClan warrior toward the pine forest, separating him from his Clanmates.

Ivypaw darted forward and nipped Starlingpaw’s foreleg. Dovepaw knew what she had to do. Yowling, she hurled herself at Pinepaw, knocking her backward with such ferocity that Crowfrost glanced up to see if his Clanmate was okay. In an instant, Foxleap regained his balance, dropped onto four paws, and launched himself forward. He sent Crowfrost hurtling backward and the pair rolled away while Dovepaw dug her claws into Pinepaw’s flanks and tore until the she-cat shrieked and struggled from her grip.

Starlingpaw was dragging at the grass as Ivypaw pulled him backward and sank her teeth into his neck. Dovepaw froze. Her sister looked as though she were killing prey. She felt a flash of relief as Ivypaw let go and Starlingpaw raced back toward his Clanmates.

Ivypaw turned to face Dovepaw, curling her lip to reveal teeth stained with blood. “Who next?”

Suddenly Brackenfur and Thornclaw appeared, pulling up in front of Dovepaw and Ivypaw, their breath clouding the air.

“Brambleclaw wants us to try something different,” Brackenfur panted.

His gaze fell upon Foxleap; the tawny tabby was beating Crowfrost backward, helped now by Toadstep. Overwhelmed, the ShadowClan warrior turned and slipped back among his own ranks. Brackenfur nodded approvingly and beckoned with his tail.

Foxleap raced over, Toadstep a pace behind. “What is it?”

“ShadowClan keeps regrouping,” Thornclaw told them. “They’re pushing us back across the field.”

Toadstep nodded. “It’s impossible to get a good grip on this grass.”

“Brambleclaw wants us to outflank them,” Brackenfur told him.

Ivypaw leaned forward. “How?”

“I’m going to lead a separate patrol,” Thornclaw meowed, “and try to draw ShadowClan away from the clearing, back into their own territory.”

Brackenfur rubbed his muzzle with one paw. “We stand a better chance in the woods,” he growled. “There are brambles and trees. The ground will feel more familiar. And we can try out our new tree tactics.”

Dovepaw’s eyes widened. “But won’t ShadowClan just fight harder if we invade their territory?”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Brackenfur muttered. “We’ll never beat them out here in the open.”

Lionblaze bounded toward them, Rosepetal and Sorreltail behind him. “Are you ready?” he asked Thornclaw.

Thornclaw nodded and headed toward ShadowClan’s woods.

Dovepaw glanced at her sister. What if they were caught between two rows of ShadowClan warriors?

But Ivypaw seemed undaunted. She scrambled after Thornclaw. Dovepaw hurtled after, her heart pounding.

“Hey! Where are they going?”

She heard the shocked yowl of a ShadowClan warrior behind them.

“They’ve broken rank!”

Dovepaw tried to concentrate on her Clanmates, slipping after them through the pines, feeling the needles underpaw, adjusting to the gloom of ShadowClan’s woods as she weaved past a swath of brambles. Ivypaw was already scooting up a tree, gripping the bark like a squirrel.

Dovepaw glanced back through the bramble hedge at the battle still raging in the clearing. It looked like chaos. Where were the battle skills they’d all been taught? From here it looked like a tangled mass of writhing pelts, and she was agonizingly aware of each shriek of pain and fear, the tearing of fur, the crunch of teeth as each cat struggled in its own private battle. How could they bear to do this to one another?

“Dovepaw!” Lionblaze’s mew dragged her attention back.

ShadowClan warriors were pounding toward the pines, thundering over the grass, spitting with rage.

“Quick, climb that tree!”

Dovepaw looked in dismay at the smooth, slender pine trunk. Her Clanmates had already scrambled up their own trees and were clinging to narrow branches, staring down, poised to drop on the fast-approaching ShadowClan warriors.

“Move!” Lionblaze nosed her upward and she clawed her way to the lowest branch.

Below, Lionblaze turned to face the ShadowClan attack as warriors streamed through the trees, Blackstar leading. The ShadowClan leader’s face was twisted in rage. “Can’t you even respect the border you just made?” He blinked in surprise at Lionblaze and Thornclaw. “Where are the rest of you?” he demanded.

His warriors skidded to a halt beside him.

Lionblaze glanced up and Blackstar followed his gaze, his eyes widening as he spotted the ThunderClan warriors clinging to the branches above.

Brackenfur was trembling in an effort to hang on. He dropped a moment before Thornclaw gave the signal.

“Now!”

The other ThunderClan cats began to dive on the ShadowClan patrol. Dovepaw clung, trembling, to her branch. Pelts swam beneath her like fish. She fixed her gaze on the light brown pelt of Owlclaw, then leaped.

Oh, StarClan!

The branch sagged beneath her. Her paws slithered wildly. With a yowl of shock, she landed unevenly on Owlclaw’s back. It was ungraceful but it was enough to floor him. He collapsed beneath her weight.

“What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Owlclaw heaved her off and turned, his paws raised. Dovepaw ducked the first swipe and nipped at his leg.

“Need help?” Rosepetal appeared at her side and began to bat the tabby away, backing him against a bramble bush till he shrieked with pain.

Dovepaw scanned the fighting cats closest to her. Lionblaze had Ratscar pinned to a tree. Ivypaw was wrestling with Starlingpaw again. Hadn’t the ShadowClan apprentice learned her lesson? Toadstep was squirming beneath a dark tabby tom, his tail lashing wildly.

Tigerheart!

“Fighting like squirrels!” Tigerheart hissed. “Doesn’t ThunderClan have any pride?” He tore at Toadstep’s spine with vicious hind claws, sending fur flying as Toadstep screeched in agony.

Anger surged in Dovepaw’s chest. She had to help her Clanmate. Then she paused. It was Tigerheart! Could she really hurt her friend?

Oh, StarClan! Do we really have to fight each other?

As she hesitated, Foxleap knocked Tigerheart from Toadstep’s back. Relief washed over Dovepaw.

“Help me!” Sorreltail’s furious mew sounded behind her.

Dovepaw spun to see her Clanmate swiping at Smokefoot. The dark ShadowClan warrior was snarling with his teeth bared, sharp claws glinting. Sorreltail reared and fell against him, their chests clashing as Smokefoot rose to meet her challenge. Her hind paws scrabbled, sending needles showering against Dovepaw’s pelt. Dovepaw sprang forward to help, knocking Smokefoot’s paws from under him so that he landed with a grunt on his belly.

“Thanks,” Sorreltail growled, and dived on the tom. Dovepaw leaned away from the flurry of paws and caught sight of Ivypaw. She was steadily beating Starlingpaw backward, her forepaws slashing with vicious accuracy.

Wow! Dovepaw was impressed. Ivypaw was a brilliant fighter. Then Dovepaw stiffened as a dark brown pelt flashed at the edge of her vision. She reared up to get a better look, staring over the tangle of pelts.

Tigerheart was streaking toward Ivypaw.

He mustn’t hurt her!

Panic surging in her throat, Dovepaw barged through the battling cats. She dived beneath Crowfrost and burst out just in time to see Tigerheart leap for Ivypaw.

“Ivypaw!” Dovepaw’s warning was lost in the shrieks of battle.

She watched her sister turn and spot Tigerheart lunging toward her. Thank StarClan! Dovepaw flexed her claws and prepared to go to Ivypaw’s rescue. Then she paused.

Tigerheart had stopped midleap and landed clumsily on all four paws. His gaze caught Ivypaw’s and the two cats stared at each other.

Dovepaw felt her chest tighten.

Tigerheart had nodded at Ivypaw. A tiny nod. So tiny that Dovepaw wondered if she had imagined it. Then the ShadowClan warrior turned and vanished into the battle, his pelt blurring alongside Owlfur’s as he fought Thornclaw and Foxleap.

Dovepaw waited for relief to come. Her sister was safe. Tigerheart had not hurt her. But there was no relief inside her. Some other emotion jabbed her belly. A feeling that said she didn’t want Tigerheart to look at Ivypaw that way. The same way he had looked at Dovepaw when he told her he wanted to stay friends.

Am I jealous?

Dovepaw tried to shake the nagging pang away.

Why had Tigerheart looked at Ivypaw like that? Had he recognized the silver-and-white she-cat as Dovepaw’s sister?

No. That wasn’t the look. Something else had lit his gaze, something far more knowing. It almost looked as if they’d met before. But I would know! Dovepaw bristled. Had Ivypaw been sneaking out of camp to meet the ShadowClan warrior? Was that why there was so much distance between the sisters now? Was that why Tigerheart had sought Dovepaw’s friendship?

There is no time for this! A voice inside her told her that she was putting herself and her Clan in danger. Her Clanmates needed her. She would have to wait to sort out what was going on with Ivypaw later. Right now, she needed to fight.

She turned and swiped at the hind legs of Owlclaw, then sank her teeth into Crowfrost’s tail. His yowl of agony sent energy surging through her, and as he turned she reared up, ready to take him on.

A yowl of rage rent the air. Dovepaw ducked out of Toadfoot’s way and spun around. At the edge of the trees, Russetfur was attacking Firestar. She held his throat in her jaws, a stream of drool swinging from her straining cheek. Firestar thrashed desperately but she didn’t let go.

A golden pelt streaked through the trees.

Lionblaze!

Dovepaw blinked as her mentor hurled himself at Russetfur. At first the she-cat didn’t move. Then, claws stretched, eyes wild, Lionblaze caught hold of the ShadowClan deputy and dragged her backward, off her hind paws. As he did, Firestar stumbled and collapsed to the ground, blood pumping from his neck.

CHAPTER 24

Lionblaze nosed Dovepaw up the tree trunk and turned to face the ShadowClan attack. Brambleclaw’s idea had to work. The battle in the clearing was going badly, because none of them had figured they wouldn’t be able to hold their footing on the smooth, short grass. They needed to take the fighting to somewhere ThunderClan held the advantage. Maybe Firestar was right to start training the apprentices up in the trees. Hopefully they’d fight better among the pines.

Blackstar burst out of the brambles. “Can’t you even respect the border you just made?”

Lionblaze unsheathed his claws.

“Where are the rest of you?”

He felt a glimmer of satisfaction at Blackstar’s confusion. Power pulsed through his paws and he braced himself for the attack. ShadowClan warriors streamed through the trees. They were furious, their faces twisted with outrage, their yowls edged with fury as they spun in surprise.

“Now!”

On Thornclaw’s signal, ThunderClan warriors swooped like hawks from the branches. Lionblaze relished ShadowClan’s yowls of bewilderment. The battle exploded around him, shrieks echoing through the pines.

Scorchfur.

Lionblaze glimpsed the streak of gray pelt a moment before the ShadowClan warrior rammed him. He fell skidding across the needles, slowing himself by digging his claws deep into the earth. Scorchfur has no idea who he’s dealing with. Drawing himself to his paws, Lionblaze faced his attacker.

Scorchfur’s face was a mask of anger. The gray tom’s eyes were lit with a self-righteous rage, as though he’d been wronged by this battle.

Maybe he had.

Lionblaze felt his paws freeze.

All this because of the dream of one apprentice. An apprentice who’d never before shown any sign of a connection with StarClan.

He shook the doubt away.

Ivypaw was Dovepaw’s sister. That was proof enough that they could trust her.

Scorchfur reared and clawed at his ear. Lionblaze felt only a distant prick of pain. Power was stirring beneath his pelt. Strength rose from his belly, flooding every muscle.

Around him the battle seemed to slow down.

The cats fought as if in water, each blow an arcing sweep of paw, each lunge a dragging leap that Lionblaze could watch unfold moment upon moment. Around him, the shrieking seemed to fade, and yet he saw curses billow from snarling jaws.

He saw Snowbird face Rosepetal, her green eyes betraying every thought as they flitted like butterflies, assessing Rosepetal’s position, moving to fix on her strike point, half closing as she bunched her muscles and prepared to jump.

This is too easy. Lionblaze strode forward, flipping Owlclaw from his path, knocking Redwillow backward as the warrior attempted to lunge. Lionblaze saw Rowanclaw’s gaze fix on him, heard the breath gasp from his mouth as he crouched for the attack, felt the rush of air as slowly the warrior flew at him, teeth bared. Lionblaze had only to rear up and raise a paw to bat him backward into his Clanmates.

A yowl, deep and slow, sounded at the edge of the clearing.

Spinning around, he saw Firestar with Russetfur at his throat. The ShadowClan deputy had sunk her teeth deep into the ThunderClan leader’s neck. Firestar was trying to shake her off, but she allowed her body to be thrashed back and forth, her jaws clamped shut while Firestar staggered, paws slithering in his own blood.

Lionblaze lunged for the ShadowClan deputy. He swiped at her, raking her flank with claws half-sheathed. He only wanted her to release her grip. But she writhed and lashed out, still holding Firestar’s throat.

Firestar sank slowly to his belly, rings of white showing around the rims of his wide-stretched eyes.

Desperate now, Lionblaze flung his paws around Russetfur’s neck and hauled her off. As she let go, he lurched backward, his paws still wrapped tightly around her scrawny body. He landed heavily, sprawling on his back, and Russetfur collapsed on him like a deadweight.

The noise of battle suddenly flooded his ears; the screeching mayhem crashed into his consciousness like a wave breaking.

“You killed Russetfur!” Owlclaw’s wail split the air.

Lionblaze scrambled to his paws. The she-cat flopped, unmoving, onto the ground, her eyes wide-open but clouded with death.

His breath came in panicked gasps. “I d-didn’t do anything!” He hadn’t even scratched her. Only pulled her loose. How could she be dead?

Blackstar barged past him and crouched over her limp body. “Russetfur!” He shook his deputy with his heavy black paws, but she didn’t stir. “Russetfur!”

“Enough!” Thornclaw shook Ratscar from his back and sat up. “The battle is won,” he growled. “The clearing is ours. Do you concede or shall we fight for it again?”

Blackstar flashed a look of burning hatred over his shoulder. “Take it,” he hissed. “It was never worth the blood that has been spilled here today.”

Around them the battle stuttered and stumbled. Confusion filled the air as Lionblaze stood, frozen, wrapped in horror until Sorreltail shrieked.

“Firestar!”

Turning in a daze, Lionblaze saw blood pool around Firestar’s neck. The ThunderClan leader twitched, his flanks falling still. His tail snaked behind him, dead as prey.

He’s losing a life!

The ground lurched beneath Lionblaze. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

ShadowClan warriors began to gather around Russetfur’s body. They pressed forward to lick her fast-cooling fur.

Lionblaze backed away.

Sorreltail leaned over Firestar, her eyes clouding as Sandstorm appeared at the edge of the trees.

“What’s wrong?” The orange she-cat raced to crouch at her mate’s side.

“He’s losing a life,” Sorreltail reported grimly.

Two deaths?

What kind of battle was this? StarClan would never have sent a dream to lead them into a battle this deadly. A thought flickered in Lionblaze’s mind. His fur, sticky with the blood of other warriors, grew cold. A black, sucking hollow opened like a pit in his belly.

What if this dream hadn’t come from StarClan? What if it had been sent from beyond StarClan’s hunting grounds? Had Dark Forest warriors sent them on this fatal battle against their rivals? Two senior cats dead—one who would never recover—and many more warriors and apprentices badly wounded? Both Clans would be weak for a long time, right at the beginning of leaf-bare. StarClan would never have wanted this, not over a strip of grass that was useless to either Clan.

Lionblaze stared at Russetfur’s and Firestar’s unmoving bodies.

Warriors filed silently past him, gathering, dazed, beside the dead.

This battle should never have happened!

KEEP WATCH FOR
OMEN OF THE STARS #3
WARRIORS

NIGHT WHISPERS

Jayfeather and Lionblaze are convinced that the deadly battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan should not have happened, and they are determined to uncover the real reason that StarClan may have led them astray. Meanwhile, Dovepaw must face a startling fact and realize that evil is sometimes no more than a whisper’s length away. As tensions between the four Clans grow, one cat will make a stand for what is right—but at what price?

WARRIORS
ADVENTURE GAME

Visit www.warriorcats.com
to download game rules, character sheets,
a practice mission, and more!

Written by Stan! • Art by James L. Barry

THE PLAINTIVE HOWLS

Whichever previous adventure you played, consider that three moons have passed since then. Determine what age that makes all of the cat characters (including the one belonging to the person who will take the first turn as Narrator) and use the information found in the “Improving Your Cat” section of Chapter Four in the game rules to make the necessary changes.

Unless you are the first Narrator in this adventure, stop reading here. The information beginning in the next paragraph is for the Narrator only.

The Adventure Begins

Hello, Narrator! It’s time to begin playing “The Plaintive Howls.” Make sure all the players have their character sheets, the correct number of chips, a piece of paper, and a pencil. Remember that the point of the game is to have fun. Don’t be afraid to go slow, and refer to the rules if you aren’t sure exactly what should happen next.

When you’re ready, begin with 1 below.

1. Yowls in the Night

Special Note: If the players’ cats are not from the same Clan, play out this scene as though a similar string of events is happening in each of the cats’ Clans. The Narrator should let each of the players ask questions and explain that all the Clans have the same worries. In the end, the various leaders decide that it is best to send a group of cats from different Clans to investigate. By the final part of this scene, all the players’ cats should be together to make the important Skill Check.

Read Aloud: “You wake up in the morning to find the Clan in disarray. The queens are tending to frightened kits, and even the senior warriors seem a little bit unnerved. There were strange sounds in the night—sounds no cat can explain.”

Narrator Tips: This adventure opens with a Clan meeting, which the Clan leader has called to talk about the alarming sounds in the distance.

In the middle of the night, the warrior on duty heard a far-off yowling. The commotion awoke other members of the Clan. If any of the players’ cats have a level of 5 or higher in the Listen Skill, they were awakened by the sound, too.

Some Clan cats thought the sound was indistinct, like an animal howling in pain. Others thought that it sounded distinctly like a cat crying out for help. As the wind picked up, the yowling grew louder and clearer. It soon became apparent that it was more than just a single yowl—several different voices could be heard, some crying in pain or fear, others calling out for help.

As the Narrator, your job in this scene is to get the players to understand that this is a situation that none of the cats can explain. The answer to many of the players’ questions will be: “No one knows yet…. It’s your job to find out.” Be sure not to rush through the scene. Let the players ask all the questions they want, even if the answers are not reassuring.

When the players have run out of questions to ask or are anxious to know what happens next, inform them that the Clan leader has chosen them to investigate this mysterious yowling. They are to follow the sounds for as long and far as it takes to find the truth and do whatever they can to help ease the suffering of whoever is crying out.

Again, allow the players’ cats to ask as many questions as they like (though the answers still won’t seem very helpful). If they ask for any reasonable supplies (for example, traveling herbs), the Clan leader will grant the request.

As the players’ cats set out on the trip, the sound of the yowling rises and falls. Mostly it is a background noise that is hard to distinguish from the wind. But sometimes it grows loud enough that the cats can all agree that it is the sound of some unknown number of cats calling for help, though none of them are voices they recognize.

What Happens Next: After they have been on the trail for a while, ask each of the players what his or her cat’s Focus score is (the number they get by adding their levels of Focus to their Spirit score). At this point they cannot use any Knacks or spend any chips to improve their results—this is simply testing their natural ability to concentrate and ignore the distractions around them. Add up the results of all the Focus Checks to get a group total.

If the group total is equal to 16 or higher, continue with 3.

If the group total is lower than 16, continue with 2.

2. Chasing the Wind

Read Aloud: “The sound is certainly coming from the north. No…wait…perhaps that’s the east.”

Narrator Tips: The wind is playing tricks on the cats as they try to follow the yowling. Describe their progress as they follow the sounds for a while until the noise disappears. Then a few minutes later the crying sound seems to be coming from a different direction entirely.

If any of the cats have the Pathfinder Knack, they realize that the sounds are leading the group in circles. If none of the cats has that Knack, tell the cats to each make a Ponder Check. The cat (or cats) with the highest total comes up with the same realization, but not as quickly or as certainly as a cat with the Pathfinder Knack.

As they follow the yowling sounds, one by one the voices fade out until there is just a single cat’s voice crying on the wind—sad, mournful, and weak. This makes it easier to track. Now one cat must take the lead and use his or her Listen Skill to try to follow the sound. Have the players decide which cat that will be. Once the decision is made, tell them that their cats can help, too. Any cat that wants to help can attempt a single Listen Check. In this case, they can use Knacks and spend chips if they wish. Make a note of how many cats get a Listen Check total of 7 or higher.

Then have the lead cat make a Listen Check, using Knacks or spending chips if the player wants to. Increase this Listen Check result by +1 for every assisting cat who got a total of 7 or higher. Increase it by an additional +1 for every cat in the group who has the Pathfinder Knack.

What Happens Next: If the final Listen Check total, including all bonuses, is 12 or higher, continue with 3.

If the final Listen Check, including all bonuses, is between 6 and 11, continue with 4.

If the final Listen Check total, including all bonuses, is less than 6, continue with 5.

3. The Culprit

Read Aloud: “The sound of the yowling is getting clearer, but it’s also getting weaker. It seems you’ve found the source just as it is fading away.”

Narrator Tips: The cats have found the source of the yowling—Burr, a cat trapped in a Twoleg cage. The difficult thing for you, as the Narrator, is that the cats don’t really have words for things like “cage” so describing the scene may be tough. They will probably think of the cage as a “den” that is hard and cold to the touch. For your sake, here are the details in plain English.

Burr is a rogue who was traveling in the area to the north of the Lake. He smelled food and followed it to an area where humans from a regional animal shelter had set up some “capture and carry” traps. Burr wandered into one of the cages and became trapped. He’s been here for almost a full day now and has been crying for help practically the whole time. As he did, he could hear other cats begin to do the same thing. He guesses they must be trapped in similar cages, but he can’t see any of them.

At this point, Burr is weak from exhaustion. It is only pure luck and a strong wind that let his and the other cats’ cries be carried as far away as the Lake. Or perhaps it was the desperation in their voices and intervention from StarClan. Let the players’ cats talk to Burr for a while and consult among themselves about what to do. The cage is built out of steel and it is attached to the ground. In other words, nothing the cats do will damage or move it.

Burr will be as helpful as he can be, but he doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Also, he’s stuck in a cage and cannot see what the cats are doing once they walk too far away. He’ll still shout out whatever seems helpful, and you can use that as a way to give hints to the players’ cats in any other scenes as long as they are relatively near Burr’s cage.

There are two other bits of information that will become clear to the cats as they investigate the situation. First, there’s a smell of food in the air—not good fresh-kill but definitely food. Second, there’s a new sound on the wind—the sound of Twolegs as they chatter away somewhere nearby.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to investigate the smell of food, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 6.

If the cats decide to investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

4. The Fading Voice

Read Aloud: “As darkness draws near, the sound of the yowling fades away completely. You’ll have to find somewhere warm to spend the night and continue searching in the morning.”

Narrator Tips: The cats were unable to find the source of the sounds, though they’ve come close. Still, with the light fading, they will have to camp for the night. Take this as an opportunity to let them do some more talking among themselves or perhaps a bit of hunting for fresh-kill to eat; then have them get what sleep they can.

If they want to set up a watch during the night, have each cat attempt a Listen Check during his or her turn. They do not hear any more of the yowling. However, if you as the Narrator want to improvise some excitement during the night, perhaps one of the cats can hear an owl or encounter a skunk or a raccoon. While such an encounter can be fun, make sure the players and their cats remember that the focus of the adventure is finding the source of the yowling.

In the morning, the cats smell a bitter, meaty scent on the wind. It’s not fresh-kill, but it’s definitely food. What’s more, they hear a new sound—the sound of Twolegs chattering away in their strange voices.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to investigate the smell of food, continue with 6.

If the cats decide to investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

If the cats decide to avoid both of these opportunities and keep looking elsewhere in the woods for the source of the yowling, continue with 5.

5. Lost in the Woods

Read Aloud: “The woods grow thick, and although you hear many sounds, none of them are the yowls for help that you were sent to investigate.”

Narrator Tips: Let the cats investigate a bit further. Perhaps they find a grove of trees where some squirrels are scampering about, or a pond filled with leaping fish. But the one thing they do not find is any new sign of whoever was responsible for the yowls in the night.

After a little while make it clear to them that they have wandered so far off track that they’ve lost the trail entirely. There is no way they will ever solve the mystery.

What Happens Next: The cats will have to return to their camp and tell the Clan that they failed to find the source of the yowling. The Clan leader will tell them that the yowling has stopped, so maybe there was nothing to worry about in the first place. Still, the night guard will be doubled for the next moon, just in case the yowling returns.

Although they tried hard, the cats do not get any Experience rewards for this adventure. The group can, however, play the adventure again, hopefully changing some of their tactics so that they get a better result the next time.

6. A Strange Den

Read Aloud: “The food smell is coming from a peculiar pile of leaves. At first you thought it was a small bush, but no bush actually grows like that. It looks like the leaves and branches were torn off the plants from which they came and placed here intentionally like some kind of nest. But why? And why is the food smell coming from within this nest?”

Narrator Tips: Although the cats can’t figure it out for certain yet, the leaves and branches were put here by humans in an attempt to camouflage a cage. The food smell is from a small mouse that has been placed inside the cage as bait. To Clan cats it is obvious the mouse has been dead too long to make a good meal, and it smells strange—unnaturally clean and with a lingering scent of Twolegs.

Let the cats poke around and investigate as they like. Depending on what they do, you may want to allow them to try Ponder, See, or Smell Checks to see if they notice particular details (in general, a total of 6 should be enough to allow them to observe interesting details, all of which should point to the involvement of Twolegs). Remember not to use words like “cage” or “metal.” Try to describe the scene in terms that the cats would use—words like “den” or “thicket” or “nest.”

The cats can pull the leaves off the “den,” peek inside, sniff the food from a distance, or explore in any other way the players can think of. There is only one way to enter the cage and a particularly brave, curious, or foolhardy cat may try it. Other cats may avoid the cage and begin looking farther away. Those cats will discover more nests of leaves that have the same bitter food scent.

In addition, the cats now hear the sound of Twoleg voices chattering in the distance.

What Happens Next: If any cat decides to go into the cage, continue with 8.

If the cats decide to investigate the other food smells nearby, continue with 9.

If the cats decide to ignore the food smell and investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

7. The Twoleg Camp

Read Aloud: “Following the sounds of the Twolegs is easy. They apparently know nothing about stealth or subtlety. The question isn’t whether or not you can find their camp; the question is what you’ll do once you’re there.”

Narrator Tips: Finding the camp is so easy that the cats do not even have to make any Skill Checks. They can simply follow the chattering sound of the Twolegs calling out to one another. After a short journey, the cats find themselves atop a ridge that looks down on the Twoleg camp. It is a strange sight, not like a usual Twolegplace.

Two of the Twolegs’ monsters (larger than average) sit there, and both appear to be asleep. There is also a strange den of some sort. It’s made of some kind of soft skin that blows and flaps in the wind. And Twolegs are everywhere. There is also a faint cat scent coming from the Twoleg camp—enough cats to make up a small Clan—but no matter how hard the players’ cats search, they can’t see any cats down there.

The description above covers how the cats will see the scene, but as the Narrator you should have a clearer understanding. This is a temporary camp set up by people who work for a regional animal shelter. They have come to the woods to capture some of the wild cats, give them shots and other medical treatment, and take some of the healthier cats back to town where they can be adopted. In other words, these are good people who have only the best interests of the cats in mind, but the cats will think they are terrible threats.

The Twolegs have come in two vans (one contains supplies; the other has cages to capture, hold, and eventually transport cats). The Twolegs have also erected a tent where they’ve set up a makeshift animal hospital.

Allow the players’ cats to look down at this scene for as long as they like. The players may speculate about what is going on, but don’t give them any clear indications. Any cat that has the Twoleg Lore Knack can try to make a Ponder Check to get an idea of what’s going on, but even that is quite difficult. The Check must have a total of 15 just for the cat to have a rough idea what all these sights and smells mean. Even then, the best he or she is likely to do is get a vague connection between these Twolegs and the “cutter” (a veterinarian’s office), something that probably won’t put the group’s minds at ease.

The cats will have to decide on what their next move will be. The answers to the mysterious yowling lie somewhere in the Twoleg camp, but going there will pose a new set of dangers.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to sneak into the Twoleg camp and take a closer look, continue with 11.

If the cats are truly undecided as to what to do, or if they start and stop different courses of action, or if you as the Narrator think it would make the adventure more interesting, a few of the Twolegs can just happen to notice them up on the ridge. The Twolegs will try to approach the cats. Continue with 12.

8. It’s a Trap!

Special Note: It’s possible for the cats to get to this scene while exploring a second or third cage. If they do, you’ll want to improvise a more suitable description than the Read Aloud section below. If the cats have encountered one of these traps before, their focus will likely be on something other than the food inside.

Read Aloud: “The food inside the strange den smells awful, like kittypet food. Just as you’re getting close enough to get a good sniff, the entrance to the den collapses with a loud crashing noise!”

Narrator Tips: Once the trap has been triggered, the cage door springs closed in an attempt to capture the cat inside. These are humane traps, meant to keep the cat from being hurt, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t frightening, so be sure to describe the scene in a scary way.

The cat may not be trapped in the cage. If the player wishes, his or her cat may attempt a Jump Check (using any Knacks or spending as many chips as he or she likes) to try to escape the “den” before its roof collapses. If the Jump Check total is equal to 13 or higher, the cat manages to get out before the door swings shut. If the total is 12 or lower, the cat is caught inside.

What Happens Next: If the cat managed to escape the cage without being trapped, continue with 9.

If the cat is caught in the cage and decides to eat the food, continue with 10.

If the cat is caught in the cage and decides to search for ways to escape, continue with 13.

9. More Dens

Read Aloud: “Scattered around the nearby woods you find several more leafy nests surrounding similar strange dens, each of which has the same bitter food smell coming from inside.”

Narrator Tips: The Twolegs have been very busy in these woods. They have set a series of traps, hoping to capture as many “stray” cats as possible. The players’ cats can’t really understand that, but it should be clear that something strange is going on here and that the Twolegs are probably involved. The sound of their voices is now a constant background noise carried by the wind.

Let the cats explore as much as they want. Every new “den” they find is another opportunity for a cat to be tempted by the food scent or perhaps try exploring the cage out of pure curiosity. As before, you may want to allow the players to make Ponder, Smell, See, or other Checks for their cats. There isn’t anything new to find here, but they can certainly discover any of the facts or clues that were present in earlier scenes. Again, the Twoleg Lore Knack will probably be the most useful information gathering tool at the cats’ disposal.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

If any of the cats tries to enter one of the new cages, continue with 8.

10. A Snack for Strength

Read Aloud: “This looks like a mouse—but it’s not at all fresh and there are other bitter tastes in there, too.”

Narrator Tips: To a Clan cat, anything but freshly killed meat is a very poor meal, and this one is especially bad. The humans have spiked the meat with mild sedatives to calm the captured cats and, hopefully, put them to sleep until they can be collected.

Any cat who eats this food immediately loses 5 chips because of the drugs. He or she must then make a Spirit Check. If the total of this Check is 9 or lower, the sedatives cause the cat to fall asleep. If the total is 10 or higher, the cat remains awake but is drowsy and will be unable to do much other than talk for at least the next few hours.

What Happens Next: Unlike in previous adventures, it is possible for some of the cats to be knocked out of the adventure while the rest of the group goes on. The cat who is stuck in this cage is now out of the game. However, tell that player there is a chance that the other cats will be able to rescue his or her character if they go through the rest of the adventure successfully. He or she should stay in the game and help the others, if only by giving advice.

The adventure may continue in several different ways, depending on what the remaining cats want to do.

If they want to explore some of the remaining cages, continue with 9.

If Burr is still around and they want to talk to him more, continue with 3.

If they want to investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

11. Sneaking into the Camp

Read Aloud: “The mixture of strange sights and smells is overwhelming. It’s difficult at first to tell one sensation from another, especially while trying to stay out of the constant bustle of the Twolegs rushing back and forth.”

Narrator Tips: Before getting any further into the scene, tell the players that it is now time to refresh their chips. Any chips that were spent on Skill or Ability Checks are now brought back into the cats’ chip pool, but any chips lost to injury remain lost. (See Chapter Five of the game rules for a full explanation.) Note that this only happens the first time the cats play through this scene. The adventure may lead them back here several times, but they only get to refresh their chips once.

The point of this scene is to let the cats sneak into the camp and begin exploring. Because this action is so unpredictable, you as Narrator will mostly have to react to what the players want their cats to attempt. Your main job is to give them information about what they see. There are three main areas in the Twoleg camp for the cats to explore (though the cats will not know them by these names).

The Medical Tent: This is the “strange den” the cats saw in scene 7. As they get closer it will seem even stranger. The tent is set up to provide a fairly clean area for the vets to do medical examinations. Any cat who makes a Smell Check with a total of 5 or higher can tell that there are at least six separate cat scents in this area. But anyone whose total is 8 or higher knows that most of those are stale and that only two cats are in there right now.

The Supply Van: This is one of the “sleeping monsters” that the cats saw in scene 7. It is a minivan that the people from the animal shelter have used to carry their supplies to this remote location. The Twolegs are constantly going to the van, opening it, taking out some needed items, and closing it back up. Whenever the van is opened, the cats can catch a number of distinct scents. Any cat that attempts a Smell Check is at first overwhelmed by the mixture, but if the check total is 5 or higher he or she can identify a single specific item. For every two points the total is above that, the cat can identify another specific item (so if the total is 7 the cat can identify two items, if the total is 9 then three items, and so on). The items in the van include: The kind of food that’s used in the traps, medicine, rubbing alcohol and other medical cleaning solutions, and any other items the Narrator thinks the animal shelter people would have brought with them.

The Transport Van: This is the other “sleeping monster” the cats saw in scene 7. It is a minivan that is set up to carry cats. The back of the van has been outfitted with a series of electronically locked cages, each large enough to hold a single cat. The Twolegs’ plan is to bring back as many healthy, adoptable cats as they can, thinking that they are saving these cats from a life of hardship. The Twolegs don’t open this van as frequently as they do the other one, but when they do, the unmistakable scent of live, healthy cats comes out. If the players’ cats want to try to tell how many cats are inside the van, they have to make a Smell Check. If the total is 5 or higher, they know that there are at least eight cats in the van. If the total is 8 or higher, they know that there are exactly ten cats in the van. For every 2 points higher than that, they can pick out the scent of individual cats (so if the total is 10 they can smell one specific cat, if the total is 12 they can smell two, and so on). This may be important because any of the players’ cats that got captured—either in the cages or by clever Twolegs—will be among those inside this van.

What Happens Next: The next step in the adventure depends entirely on where the cats choose to explore.

If the cats decide to explore the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats decide to explore the Supply Van, continue with 16.

If the cats decide to explore the Transport Van, continue with 17.

If the Narrator thinks the cats are too bold and make it easy for the Twolegs to notice them, continue with 12.

12. Spotted!

Read Aloud: “With a start, you realize that one of the Twolegs has seen you! It’s heading this way!”

Narrator Tips: There are several ways the players’ cats may end up in this scene and it may come up several times over the course of the adventure. Your job as Narrator is to improvise ways to make each one fit the current context.

Remember that while the cats see the Twolegs as threats, the Twolegs really just care about the health and well-being of all cats. They will try to be as friendly and calming as they can. They’ll offer food and try to scratch the cats behind the ears and speak in a soothing tone. But the players’ cats will misinterpret these friendly gestures as being aggressive moves.

There isn’t really any more complication to this scene than figuring out if any of the cats get captured by the Twolegs. Any cat that lets the Twolegs get close enough to touch him or her is in danger of being captured. After petting the cat for a few moments, the Twoleg will try to grab him or her. At that point, the cat may make a Jump Check. If the total is 12 or higher, the cat escapes the attempted grab and can act freely. If the total is lower, though, the cat has been captured.

Any cat who eats the offered food immediately loses 5 chips because it has been drugged with sedatives. He or she must make a Spirit Check. If the total of this Check is 9 or lower, the sedatives cause the cat to fall asleep. If the total is 10 or higher, the cat remains awake but is going to be drowsy and will be unable to do much other than talk for at least the next ten minutes.

Like in previous scenes, any captured cat has the possibility of returning later on in the adventure if the remaining cats can figure out how to free him or her. Beyond that, the only question is where the remaining cats go next.

If the cats stay away from the Twolegs and dash off into the woods or to another part of the camp, the Twolegs will not give chase. They have too much to do and too many cats to treat.

What Happens Next: Not all of these options will be available in each case. The details will depend on where the cats are spotted and what escape routes are possible.

If the cats decide they want to try to fight the Twoleg that is trying to grab them, continue with 18.

If any of the cats are captured, continue with 14.

If the cats escape into the outer camp area, continue with 11, but do not refresh the chips again (that only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11).

If the cats escape to the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats escape to the area near the Supply Van, continue with 16.

If the cats escape to the area near the Transport Van, continue with 17.

13. Difficult Choices

Read Aloud: “The strange den entrance has collapsed! You’re trapped!”

Narrator Tips: One of the cats is trapped in a Twoleg cage. While the rest of the cats are nearby and can talk to the cat inside, this scene is about what that trapped cat does next.

To be honest, there are very few choices, and none of them are particularly appealing. But sometimes that’s what happens when a cat pokes his or her nose into a dangerous place.

One choice is for the cat to eat the strange-smelling food that has been placed in the cage.

Another choice is to try to push, claw, and squeeze his or her way out through the small gaps in the cage’s construction. This is unlikely to succeed, and very likely to cause the cat some injury. Try to explain this clearly to the player before he or she decides on this course of action. If the player cannot be dissuaded, have the cat attempt a Strength Check to try to muscle his or her way out of the cage.

If the Strength Check total is 7 or lower, nothing happens. If the total is between 8 and 14, the cat is wounded by the sharp metal of the cage. The cat loses 4 chips due to the injury and is still trapped in the cage. If the total is between 15 and 20, the cat manages to squeeze out of the cage and is free, but still loses 6 chips in the process due to cuts, scrapes, and bruises. If the Strength Check total is 21 or higher, the cat manages to get out of the cage while suffering only minor wounds—he or she loses only 3 chips due to injury.

A final choice that a trapped cat may make is to simply sit down and wait. In this case, the cat will probably encourage his or her friends to search out some kind of way to open the cage (perhaps to be found wherever the Twolegs are).

If the player seems to be considering this course of action, assure him or her that there is a chance that the other cats will be able to rescue his or her character if they go through the rest of the adventure successfully. He or she should stay in the game and help the others, if only by giving advice.

What Happens Next: If the trapped cat decides to eat the food, continue with 10.

The adventure may continue in several different ways, depending entirely on what the cats as a group decide to do. If the cat in the cage managed to escape, consult the choices below. Likewise, use those choices for the free cats if they want to search for a way to rescue their trapped companion. However, once the cats move along, the trapped cat will be collected by a Twoleg who comes by and carries the cage back to the Twoleg camp. As Narrator, you can tell the player this privately but be sure to also say that the adventure will provide the chance for the other cats to rescue his or her character later on.

If they want to explore some of the remaining cages, continue with 9.

If Burr is still around and they want to talk to him more, continue with 3.

If they want to investigate the sounds of Twoleg activity, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 7.

14. Captured!

Read Aloud: “With a quick snap of a massive paw, the Twoleg grabs you and lifts you into the air!”

Narrator Tips: There are several ways the players’ cats may end up in this scene and it may come up several times over the course of the adventure. Your job as Narrator is to improvise ways to make each one fit the current context.

Once a cat has been captured, the Twoleg will carry him or her away, either to the Medical Tent (where the cat will get a sedative to calm him or her down) or to the Transport Van (where he or she will be placed in a cage to await medical treatment or the trip back to town). Again, the humans are not doing this to be mean. They believe they are doing what’s best for the cats.

As in previous scenes, any captured cat has the possibility of returning later on in the adventure if the remaining cats can figure out how to free him or her. Beyond that, the only question is where the remaining cats go next.

What Happens Next: Not all of these options will be available in each case. The details will depend on where the remaining cats are and what escape routes are possible.

If the cats escape to the outer camp area, continue with 11 but do not refresh the chips again. (That only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11.)

If the cats escape to the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats decide to explore the Supply Van, continue with 16.

If the cats decide to explore the Transport Van, continue with 17.

If all of the cats have been captured, continue with 23.

15. The Clean Den

Read Aloud: “By staying close to the edge of the soft-skinned den, you can sneak in close enough to stick your nose inside and see what’s going on.”

Narrator Tips: In this scene, the cats get to poke around in the Medical Tent. This is the busiest part of the Twoleg camp, so it is also the place where it is easiest for the cats to be seen and perhaps captured. Encourage the players to come up with clever ways for their cats to avoid detection and, if they seem reasonable, allow them to work.

Of course, you should still have the cats make a few Skill or Attribute Checks that seem appropriate for the situation—Sneak, Ponder, Focus, Listen, and Smell all could be useful depending on what the cats are trying to do.

This scene is called “The Clean Den” because that will be the most striking thing about the tent from the cats’ perspective. The tent has been set up like a little mini veterinarian’s office in the woods. There is a small examination table, bright lights, and a cart filled with medical equipment, bandages, and useful drugs. It will smell strongly of antiseptics and the humans will do everything possible to keep dirt and other contaminants from the forest out of the tent.

While the cats are looking around, the doctors will be examining a cat. If possible, that cat should be a character the players have met before—either one of the captured player cats or Burr—just to give the scene a little more drama. If the cat is awake, it will be yowling angrily whenever the Twolegs poke and prod him or her.

Any cat that has the Herb Lore Knack may attempt a Ponder Check (using that Knack if the player so desires). If the Check total is 5 or higher, the cat notices some vaguely familiar scents mixed in with the antiseptics. If the total is 8 or higher, the cat realizes that some of the things in this den are similar to healing herbs that a medicine cat uses. If the total is 12 or higher, the cat is able to pick out a specific medicine smell and equate it to a specific healing herb.

Allow the cats to poke around for as long as the players remain interested. However, if they try anything particularly outlandish, there is a chance that the Twolegs will notice them.

What Happens Next: If the Narrator thinks the cats make it easy for the Twolegs to notice them, continue with 12.

If the cats decide to attack the Twolegs in hopes of freeing their friend, continue with 18.

If the cats return to the outer camp area, continue with 11 but do not refresh the chips again. (That only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11.)

If the cats decide to explore the Supply Van, continue with 16.

If the cats decide to explore the Transport Van, continue with 17.

16. A Sleeping Monster

Read Aloud: “The monster continues to sleep, despite the fact that the Twolegs keep coming over and trying to wake it up.”

Narrator Tips: In this scene the cats can examine the Supply Van and watch as the humans come and go, taking things from the van and occasionally depositing bags of garbage generated by the work happening in the Medical Tent.

The Twolegs aren’t doing anything special in this part of the camp, which makes it a good place for the players’ cats to hide and catch their breath after being chased. This also may be the first time the cats have ever had the opportunity to examine a Twoleg monster. The fact that it is so soundly asleep should allow them to be bolder than they usually would be around such a beast. If the players decide their cats want to take this opportunity, be creative in your descriptions. Try to describe the various shapes and parts of the van as they would appear to a cat and encourage an air of mystery and wonder.

This examination is interrupted periodically as the Twolegs come back and try to wake up the monster. (As the Narrator, you know they’re really just getting supplies from the van.) Have the cats make Ponder Checks as they watch this. If the Check total is 6 or higher, the cats realize that the Twolegs are performing specific actions in order to get the monster to react in certain ways.

What Happens Next: If the cats want to keep examining the monster, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 19.

If the cats return to the outer camp area, continue with 11 but do not refresh the chips again. (That only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11.)

If the cats decide to explore the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats decide to explore the Transport Van, continue with 17.

17. A Wall of Dens

Read Aloud: “Like the other monster, this one appears to be sleeping, but the Twolegs do not seem to be trying nearly as hard to wake it up.”

Narrator Tips: In this scene the cats can examine the Transport Van and watch as the humans occasionally carry over a sedated cat from the Medical Tent and put it into a cage inside the van. When the cats can see the inside of the van, they see a huge wall of metal dens (like those they saw in the early scenes in this adventure), many of which have cats inside them.

This may be the first time the cats have ever been this close to a Twoleg monster, but the fact that it is so soundly asleep should allow them to be bolder than they usually would be around such a beast. As the cats examine the situation, be creative in your descriptions. Try to describe the various shapes and parts of the van as they would appear to a cat and encourage an air of mystery and wonder.

As they poke around the van, the players’ cats can smell the fear from the cats inside the monster. Not only that, if they make a Smell Check with a total of 8 or higher, they can pick out all the individual scents of the cats inside (which include Burr and any of the players’ cats that have been captured).

This examination is interrupted occasionally as the Twolegs come back and place more cats inside the monster. Have the players’ cats make Ponder Checks as they watch this. If the Check total is 6 or higher, the cats realize that the Twolegs are performing some kind of specific action in order to get the monster to react in certain ways.

What Happens Next: If the cats want to stay and keep examining the monster, this is the end of the chapter. Pass the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 19.

If the cats return to the outer camp area, continue with 11 but do not refresh the chips again. (That only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11.)

If the cats decide to explore the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats decide to explore the Supply Van, continue with 16.

18. A Desperate Fight

Read Aloud: “The Twolegs are big and they’re strong, but sometimes being a warrior means standing your ground and fighting, even when winning seems impossible.”

Narrator Tips: Clan cats fighting against humans is a lost cause, but that doesn’t mean that some of the players won’t want their cats to try it.

One thing that a cat can do effectively is intimidate a Twoleg opponent. Despite their smaller size, cats that show enough ferociousness can cause a Twoleg to hesitate and be more careful, shifting the odds considerably. A cat who performs a Hiss or Arch Check with a total of 15 or higher will get an automatic +3 bonus to all Bite, Swat, and Wrestle Checks for the rest of the fight. If the cat can get totals of 15 or higher in both Checks, he or she can double that bonus, getting a +6 in those Checks for the rest of the fight.

While it’s not possible for a cat to severely hurt a Twoleg opponent, he or she can get in some painful scratches. Twolegs do not Jump out of the way in combat; they pull their hands back out of reach. That movement functions the same way a Jump does for a cat. Treat attacking Twolegs as though their hands have Jump scores of 10.

Treat this the same as if two or more cats were Wrestling, though the Twolegs’ Checks always have a total of 13. In order to pick up a cat, the Twolegs must win a Wrestling Check. As long as the cat wins, he or she is writhing around too much for the Twolegs to pick up him or her.

Once a cat has been lifted into the air, the fight is over.

Any time before that happens, the cat may decide to end the fight by running away.

What Happens Next: If the cat is lifted into the air, the Twolegs will put him or her into a cage. The adventure is over for that cat, though he or she can still be rescued if the other cats manage to figure out how to release the trapped cats from the Transport Van.

If all the cats are captured, continue with 23.

If the cat decides to run away, or if the other cats run away after their friend is captured, the next step in the adventure depends on where they decide to go.

If the cats escape to the outer camp area, continue with 11 but do not refresh the chips again. (That only happens the first time the cats go through scene 11.)

If the cats escape to the Medical Tent, continue with 15.

If the cats escape to the Supply Van, continue with 16.

If the cats escape to the Transport Van, continue with 17.

19. The Monster’s Secret

Read Aloud: “As you watch the Twolegs walk up to the monster, briefly wake it up, then leave as it falls back to sleep, you notice that there’s some kind of pattern involved. Is this some kind of ritual that only partially wakens the monsters?”

Narrator Tips: The secret is that these are the kind of vans where you can set the side door to automatically open, and the people from the animal shelter have done just that to make their coming and going easier. This would be very easy for another person to figure out, but it wouldn’t be nearly so obvious to a cat.

This is another scene where your job, as Narrator, is to describe an ordinary action in a way that seems strange and exotic as seen through the eyes of the cats. There are several parts of what the Twolegs are doing that the cats are likely to focus on.

- Some cats may think it has something to do with particular sounds the Twolegs are making—a song or phrase that makes the monster partially wake up.

- Some cats may think that it is a ritual involving the Twolegs walking around the camp. They leave the monster, walk a specific pattern, then come back and the monster will wake up only for a few brief moments.

- Some cats may think that it has to do with some special shiny stones a few of the Twolegs carry with them (the keys to the van). While that is partially true, the keys are not necessary to open the door at this time.

- Finally, some cats may think correctly that it is the act of giving the monster’s side (the van’s sliding door) a solid hit.

Let the players talk about it for a while; then have the cats all make Ponder Checks. Add the totals of all the Checks together to get a group total. As long as that group total is 12 or higher, the cats have the right idea—that the key is hitting the side of the monster in a special way.

If the group total is less than 12, tell the cats that they are certain that the correct answer is one of the choices above other than the real one. This will result in some strange behavior by the cats—behavior that will not open the van door. Once they have tried and failed once or twice, let them make another round of Ponder Checks and use them to increase the group total. Repeat this as necessary until the group total is 12 or higher.

Once the cats have the right idea, if their group total is equal to 18 or higher, the cats have figured out exactly what they have to do. If the group total is 17 or lower, they do not have all of their facts straight. This will have repercussions in the next scene.

What Happens Next: If the cats try to perform the ritual on the Supply Van, continue with 20.

If the cats try to perform the ritual on the Transport Van, continue with 21.

20. Inside the Monster

Read Aloud: “The Twolegs keep waking up this monster and it seems to be filled with all sorts of incredible things. It’s possible there may even be some more trapped cats in there. Are you curious enough to check for yourselves?”

Narrator Tips: In order to get the monster to wake up, the cats know they must hit it on its side. Unlike the Twolegs, they cannot just walk up and Swat the monster—they’re too small. However, they are sure that if they run up and Pounce on the monster, they can cause the same effect. The cats are correct in this assumption, but depending on the result of their Ponder Checks, they may or may not know exactly where on the side of the van to Pounce.

In order to succeed, the cats will have to Pounce on the monster more than once. Each time a cat Pounces, note that cat’s Strength—that is, how many points of Force the Pounce inflicted. If the group total from scene 20 was 18 or higher, the cats must inflict a total of 12 points of Force in order to get the door to open. If the group total was 17 or lower, the cats’ aim is a little off and they must inflict 16 points of Force to get the door open. If the cats have previously succeeded in opening either of the van doors, they only have to inflict 8 points of Force to do the same thing again.

Once the door is open, the cats will see a wall of human supplies. Some are in boxes, others are in plastic containers, others are just in big piles. There are drugs, food, bandages, blankets, medical supplies, and any other kind of thing you as Narrator think the humans would have brought with them. However, the cats are incapable of understanding what most of these items are. Describe them in terms the cats would get, referring back to the events earlier in the adventure whenever possible.

If the players want, their cats can explore the inside of the van—perhaps knocking over some supplies or unearthing a useful (or just entertaining) item or two. But if they make too much noise, they will attract the attention of nearby Twolegs. Indeed, if they spend too much time poking around in the van, someone is sure to come by and notice them.

Eventually it should dawn on the cats that if they can partially awaken this monster, then they can certainly do the same thing to the other one—the one that is surrounded by the scents of cats the Twolegs have put inside the monster.

What Happens Next: If the cats take too long or make a ruckus and the humans notice them, continue with 12.

If the cats want to go try the ritual on the other monster, continue with 21.

21. The Hungry Monster

Read Aloud: “Of all the places in the Twoleg camp, the area around this monster is the most intimidating. But many cats are trapped inside. Now that you know how to open the monster, you just have to summon your courage and do it!”

Narrator Tips: In order to get the monster to wake up, the cats know they must hit it on its side. Unlike the Twolegs, they cannot just walk up and Swat the monster—they’re too small. However, they are sure that if they run up and Pounce on the monster, they can cause the same effect. The cats are correct in this assumption, but depending on the result of their Ponder Checks, they may or may not know exactly where on the side of the van to Pounce.

In order to succeed, the cats will have to Pounce on the monster more than once. Each time a cat Pounces, note that cat’s Strength—that is how many points of Force the Pounce inflicted. If the group total from scene 20 was 18 or higher, the cats must inflict a total of 12 points of Force in order to get the door to open. If the group total was 17 or lower, the cats’ aim is a little off and they must inflict 16 points of Force to get the door open. If the cats have previously succeeded in opening either of the van doors, they only have to inflict 8 points of Force to do the same thing again.

Once the door is open the cats smell the scents of all the cats held within. What’s more, those cats start calling out for help. If any of the players’ cats were captured during the earlier part of the adventure, they are now here, as is Burr. If the players’ cats wish to speak with the others, they can gather the following pieces of information:

- Not all of the cats were captured here in these woods. At least five of them were captured a day ago in another stretch of wilderness, put into the cages, and driven here. They are afraid that the same thing will happen today.

- All the cats that were brought into the Clean Den were given something that made them sleepy; then they were poked and pinched and made to eat foul-tasting food. But they all agree that the Twolegs didn’t do them any harm.

- Each cat may be in a separate, small, cold den, but the Twolegs seem to be able to open or close them all simultaneously by touching some small stones and tugging on a stick near each monster’s opening.

Opening the cages is another complicated matter that the cats will have to figure out using a combination of the descriptions of the cats in the cages and a series of Ponder Checks. The simple truth (which the players’ cats won’t understand) is that the cages are controlled electronically. If a person pushes a certain button then pulls a lever, all of the cages will open. But the cats cannot understand the apparatus in that way. Luckily, though, pushing the buttons and pulling the lever are things the cats can do quite easily once they’ve figured out the details.

Have all the players’ cats involved in this process, even the ones trapped in cages, make Ponder Checks. Add all the totals together to get a group total. If the players’ cats asked the advice of the other cats trapped in the cages, add an additional +6 to the group total.

If the group total is equal to 30 or higher, the cats have successfully hit the right combination of buttons and levers and unlocked the cages.

If the group total is less than 30 then there is a chance that the Twolegs will notice what the cats are doing. This chance is 50/50, so flip a coin or use some other fair method to decide whether or not the Twolegs come to interrupt.

As long as the Twolegs do not come over to try to capture the cats, they may make another set of Ponder Checks and add their results to the previous group total.

What Happens Next: If the cats have succeeded in unlocking the cages, continue with 22.

If the Twolegs notice what the cats are doing, continue with 12. However, if this is the third time that cats have come back to retry this scene, the Twolegs realize what they’re doing and lock the van. There is no longer any way for the cats to open the van door, so instead continue with 23.

22. Released from the Monster

Read Aloud: “With a loud clanking noise, the mouths of all the caves open and all the trapped cats leap out! Although the Twolegs immediately notice and begin making very unhappy-sounding noises, there is nothing they can do as all the cats run into the woods, free once again.”

Narrator Tips: The players have successfully completed the adventure, but there still is room for a little bit of storytelling.

At the very least, the players’ cats can talk with the newly freed cats. They are all rogues from areas outside the Clan territories and they are anxious to get home. First, though, they will express their deep thanks for the work the players’ cats have done. They may ask for permission to travel across Clan territory, but only so they can get back to the areas they were captured from.

Burr plans to stay in the general area. He will, however, agree to stay out of the Clan territories.

What Happens Next: The players’ cats head back to their camp and regale the Clan leader and the other members of their Clan with the exciting tale of their adventure. Certainly, many of the other cats will have a hard time believing some of the details, particularly that the cats were able to survive being so close to two Twoleg monsters. In the end, the success of the mission will be self-evident, and no one will be able to argue that the players’ cats did an excellent job.

23. In the Belly of the Beast

Read Aloud: “The den you’re in gives you room to move around—a little. There’s water here, but it isn’t fresh. Food, too, though it’s the same bitter stuff you smelled when you first discovered this awful place. There are other cats nearby. You can smell them—and their fear.”

Narrator Tips: If you’ve ended up here, then the adventure has gone badly. Some or all of the players’ cats have been captured and are about to be driven off in the animal shelter’s van.

You can let them engage in a bit of storytelling by having the various captive cats talk to one another from their cages. This at least would give you a chance to help explain some of what happened and give the players a sense that their cats will not be harmed. These humans will not hurt the cats, just try to find them homes to be adopted into. Perhaps, eventually, the cats might be able to escape and rejoin their Clan.

What Happens Next: The adventure ends as the Transport Van starts up and drives off into a very different world than these cats have ever known before.

AFTER THE ADVENTURE

After the last scene of the adventure has been played, the game itself is not necessarily over. There still are a few things you can do if the players want to keep at it.

Lost Cats

One of the saddest parts of any tale is when a character we care about leaves. As fans of the Warriors series, we’re all keenly aware of the mixed emotions that come along when that loss is part of a great story, but it’s different when the character is your own.

If “The Plaintive Howls” ended badly, some or all of the character cats were left to an unexpected and uncertain fate. They are still alive, but no cat is quite sure where they are, where they’re going, or if they’ll ever return. This can be quite frustrating to the cat’s player, who put in a good deal of time, effort, and emotion to create and develop that character.

So what can you do?

Make a New Cat

For some players, having a character meet an unexpected fate is just a good excuse to go back to the rules and make a new character from scratch.

You no doubt learned a lot while playing your cat character; maybe you even saw some things in the rules that you’d like to try out but that didn’t mesh with the character concept of your previous cat. Now you can dive right in and explore those possibilities by making a new cat.

You can build a beginning warrior, just like you did the first time around. Or, if you and the other players agree, you can build a character and improve him or her quickly until your new character is just as many moons old as the others—that way you’ll still be at about the same experience level as the others.

Either way, the next time you and your friends sit down to play the Warriors Adventure Game, there will be a new character for everyone to meet.

Write the Next Chapter

Perhaps you want to continue exploring the character of your old cat. That’s certainly still possible, too, and the clues for how to do it are right there at the end of the adventure.

In the final scene, as the van pulls away carrying your captured cat, the text suggests that in time your character may yet escape from wherever the Twolegs are taking him or her. Then it would just be a matter of finding the way back to the Lake and your Clan territory.

Try making up a story about what happens to your cat—maybe about where the van takes him or her, or what other cats he or she meets along the way. There is a lot of adventure in the world, and a lost cat is sure to find plenty of it. And the best part is that when the story is over, your cat will be back home where he or she belongs and ready to take part in the next adventure.

Play It Again

Maybe you just want to try the whole thing a second time, starting back at the beginning or perhaps picking up somewhere in the middle where it feels like things went wrong. In either case, your cat would be right back where he or she was and have another chance to try to find a more favorable outcome.

One of the great things about storytelling games is that you can always tell the story again. And, since so many of the events depend on timing and Skill Checks, it won’t always go exactly the same way.

Plus, there may be parts of the adventure that the cats never got around to exploring (especially if the Twolegs kept noticing them as they moved around). Playing again will let everyone see all the parts of the story and give other players the chance to try their hands at being the Narrator.

Experience

If the cats completed the adventure successfully, then they all get Experience rewards. It is important to note, though, that each cat can only get experience from this adventure once! If you play through and successfully finish the adventure several times, your cat only gains the rewards listed below after the first time he or she completes the adventure.

If you use different cats each time, though, each one can get the Experience rewards. The rule is not that a player can only get experience once; it’s that a cat can.

Age: Although the action in this adventure clearly all happens over the course of a handful of days, the presumption is that this is the most interesting and exciting thing that happens to your cat during the whole of that moon. Increase your cat’s age by 1 moon and make any appropriate improvements described in Chapter Four of the game rules.

Skill: On top of the improvements your cat gets from aging, he or she also can gain 1 level in one of the following Skills: Focus, Ponder, See, Smell, Swim.

Knack: For surviving such close and prolonged interaction with Twolegs, your cat also gains one level of the Twoleg Lore Knack.

More adventures can be found at the back of each novel in the Omen of the Stars series, and you can find extra information at the warriorcats.com website.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Kate Cary

Copyright

WARRIORS: OMEN OF THE STARS #2: FADING ECHOES. Copyright © 2010 by Working Partners Limited. Warriors Adventure Game © 2009 by Working Partners Limited. “The Plaintive Howls” © 2010 by Working Partners Limited. Series created by Working Partners Limited. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hunter, Erin.

Fading echoes / Erin Hunter.—1st ed.

p.   cm.—(Warriors: omen of the stars)

Summary: As Dovepaw, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze strive to understand and fulfill the prophecy that promises them great power, the cats of the Dark Forest begin to teach battle skills and techniques to different Clan cats through dreams.

ISBN 978-0-06-155512-1 (trade bdg.)—ISBN 978-0-06-155513-8 (lib. bdg.)

[1. Cats—Fiction. 2. Prophecies—Fiction. 3. Dreams—Fiction. 4. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 5. Fantasy.] I. Title.

PZ7.H916625Fad   2010         2009026328

[Fic]—dc22         CIP
AC

EPub Edition © January 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-198817-2

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ERIN
HUNTER

Special thanks to Kate Cary

ALLEGIANCES

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER

FIRESTAR—ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt

DEPUTY

BRAMBLECLAW—dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

MEDICINE CAT

JAYFEATHER—gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS

(toms, and she-cats without kits)

GRAYSTRIPE—long-haired gray tom

DUSTPELT—dark brown tabby tom

SANDSTORM—pale ginger she-cat with green eyes

BRACKENFUR—golden brown tabby tom

SORRELTAIL—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes

CLOUDTAIL—long-haired white tom with blue eyes

BRIGHTHEART—white she-cat with ginger patches

MILLIE—striped gray tabby she-cat

THORNCLAW—golden brown tabby tom

SQUIRRELFLIGHT—dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

LEAFPOOL—light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes, former medicine cat

SPIDERLEG—long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes

BIRCHFALL—light brown tabby tom

WHITEWING—white she-cat with green eyes

BERRYNOSE—cream-colored tom

HAZELTAIL—small gray-and-white she-cat

MOUSEWHISKER—gray-and-white tom

CINDERHEART—gray tabby she-cat APPRENTICE, IVYPAW

LIONBLAZE—golden tabby tom with amber eyes APPRENTICE, DOVEPAW

FOXLEAP—reddish tabby tom

ICECLOUD—white she-cat

TOADSTEP—black-and-white tom

ROSEPETAL—dark cream she-cat

BRIARLIGHT—dark brown she-cat

BLOSSOMFALL—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

BUMBLESTRIPE—very pale gray tom with black stripes

APPRENTICES

(more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

DOVEPAW—pale gray she-cat with blue eyes

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

QUEENS

(she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

FERNCLOUD—pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat with green eyes

DAISY—cream long-furred cat from the horseplace

POPPYFROST—tortoiseshell she-cat (mother to Cherrykit, a ginger she-cat, and Molekit, a brown-and-cream tom)

ELDERS

(former warriors and queens, now retired)

MOUSEFUR—small dusky brown she-cat

PURDY—plump tabby former loner with a gray muzzle

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER

BLACKSTAR—large white tom with huge jet-black paws

DEPUTY

ROWANCLAW—ginger tom

MEDICINE CAT

LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom APPRENTICE, FLAMETAIL (ginger tom)

WARRIORS

OAKFUR—small brown tom APPRENTICE, FERRETPAW (cream-and-gray tom)

SMOKEFOOT—black tom

TOADFOOT—dark brown tom

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

CROWFROST—black-and-white tom

RATSCAR—brown tom with long scar across his back APPRENTICE, PINEPAW (black she-cat)

SNOWBIRD—pure-white she-cat

TAWNYPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes APPRENTICE, STARLINGPAW (ginger tom)

OLIVENOSE—tortoiseshell she-cat

OWLCLAW—light brown tabby tom

SHREWFOOT—gray she-cat with black feet

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

TIGERHEART—dark brown tabby tom

DAWNPELT—cream-furred she-cat

QUEENS

KINKFUR—tabby she-cat, with long fur that sticks out at all angles

IVYTAIL—black, white, and tortoiseshell she-cat

ELDERS

CEDARHEART—dark gray tom

TALLPOPPY—long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

SNAKETAIL—dark brown tom with tabby-striped tail

WHITEWATER—white she-cat with long fur, blind in one eye

WINDCLAN

LEADER

ONESTAR—brown tabby tom

DEPUTY

ASHFOOT—gray she-cat

MEDICINE CAT

KESTRELFLIGHT—mottled gray tom

WARRIORS

CROWFEATHER—dark gray tom

OWLWHISKER—light brown tabby tom APPRENTICE, WHISKERPAW (light brown tom)

WHITETAIL—small white she-cat

NIGHTCLOUD—black she-cat

GORSETAIL—very pale gray-and-white she-cat with blue eyes

WEASELFUR—ginger tom with white paws

HARESPRING—brown-and-white tom

LEAFTAIL—dark tabby tom with amber eyes

ANTPELT—brown tom with one black ear

EMBERFOOT—gray tom with two dark paws

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes APPRENTICE, FURZEPAW (gray-and-white she-cat)

BREEZEPELT—black tom with amber eyes APPRENTICE, BOULDERPAW (large pale gray tom)

SEDGEWHISKER—light brown tabby she-cat

SWALLOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

SUNSTRIKE—tortoiseshell she-cat with large white mark on her forehead

ELDERS

WEBFOOT—dark gray tabby tom

TORNEAR—tabby tom

RIVERCLAN

LEADER

MISTYSTAR—gray she-cat with blue eyes

DEPUTY

REEDWHISKER—black tom APPRENTICE, HOLLOWPAW (dark brown tabby tom)

MEDICINE CAT

MOTHWING—dappled golden she-cat APPRENTICE, WILLOWSHINE (gray tabby she-cat)

WARRIORS

GRAYMIST—pale gray tabby she-cat APPRENTICE, TROUTPAW (pale gray tabby she-cat)

MINTFUR—light gray tabby tom

ICEWING—white she-cat with blue eyes

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat APPRENTICE, MOSSYPAW (brown-and-white she-cat)

PEBBLEFOOT—mottled gray tom APPRENTICE, RUSHPAW (light brown tabby tom)

MALLOWNOSE—light brown tabby tom

ROBINWING—tortoiseshell-and-white tom

BEETLEWHISKER—brown-and-white tabby tom

PETALFUR—gray-and-white she-cat

GRASSPELT—light brown tom

QUEENS

DUSKFUR—brown tabby she-cat

MOSSPELT—tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

ELDERS

DAPPLENOSE—mottled gray she-cat

POUNCETAIL—ginger-and-white tom

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

SMOKY—muscular gray-and-white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace

FLOSS—small gray-and-white she-cat who lives at the horseplace

OTHER ANIMALS

MIDNIGHT—a star-gazing badger who lives by the sea

Prologue

Torn clouds streaked the stars. Branches whisked the night-black sky and showered leaves over the shadowed glade. Wind hollowed the shallow clearing while, around its rim, bushes stirred and rustled as though wolves paced through them.

At the center of the glade, an old she-cat hunched her shoulders against the growling air. Starlight sparkled on her matted gray pelt. She flattened her ears as two feline shapes padded down the slope to join her.

“Yellowfang.” A white-pelted she-cat spoke first. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Lionheart told me.” Yellowfang lifted her chin. Rain specked her muzzle as the medicine cat blinked at her former mentor. “What is it, Sagewhisker?”

Sagewhisker answered sharply: “We’ve been talking.”

“The whole of StarClan has been talking,” her tortoiseshell companion cut in. “Every cat thinks you should have stopped it.”

“The battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan?” Yellowfang flicked her tail. “Do you think I have that much power, Fernshade?”

Sagewhisker leaned forward. “You could have sent a message to ThunderClan.”

“If you had, Russetfur might not have died.” Fernshade stepped closer. There was a hint of claws in her words. “I trained her, you know.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Yellowfang rasped.

Fernshade narrowed her eyes. “I’m the one who’s going to have to fetch her.”

Yellowfang’s shoulders sagged. “She was old,” she murmured. “Maybe she’ll be glad to join us.”

Sagewhisker lashed her white tail. “No warrior wants to die. Especially in a battle that should not have happened.”

Fernshade curled her lip. “You knew what the cats from the Dark Forest were doing. There was no need for Firestar to challenge Blackstar over that worthless stretch of grass. Did you want cats to die?”

Wind swirled through the hollow, tugging ears and tails, as Bluestar’s mew sounded from the top of the slope.

“Enough!”

The ThunderClan leader stalked down to greet the others. She nodded to Sagewhisker and Fernshade in turn. “The battle was unfortunate, but it was a lesson we needed to learn.”

Sagewhisker met her gaze. “A lesson in what?”

Bluestar stood with her paws rooted in the streaming grass. “We know what we’re up against now. The Dark Forest cats can change the destinies of the Clans. This battle would not have been fought if not for them.”

Yellowfang shuddered. “I should have known the Clans would suffer the moment I saw Brokenstar in the Dark Forest.”

Sagewhisker jerked her head toward her former apprentice. “And whose fault is it that he is there? Or that he was ever born at all?” Her eyes glittered. “You broke the warrior code and kitted him. What did you expect?”

Yellowfang flinched.

“Blaming each other won’t help.” Bluestar brushed past Yellowfang, drawing her tail over the old cat’s knotted pelt. “We’ve all made mistakes in our time.”

Fernshade’s whiskers twitched angrily. “Not every cat breaks the warrior code!”

Bluestar didn’t blink. “Mistakes are where we learn the most,” she meowed evenly. “And we can learn from this battle. We must set aside old grievances. The Clans must join forces.”

“Brokenstar has already punished me more than I ever deserved,” Yellowfang muttered. “And now he’s trying to punish me again by destroying the Clans I once called my own.”

“This isn’t about you!” Sagewhisker snapped. “Whatever’s going on in the Dark Forest affects us all. We need to deal with it before it does any more harm to ShadowClan!”

A growl rose in Bluestar’s throat. “Not just ShadowClan! Firestar lost a life, too!”

Lightning flared. The cats crouched and blinked upward, pelts bristling. As thunder rolled in the distance, more cats began to slink into the glade.

“Lionheart!” Bluestar called. There was relief in her voice as she saw her old friend lead Mudfur and Oakheart down the slope.

“What’s going on?” Lionheart stopped beside Bluestar.

“We know the Dark Forest was behind the battle between ShadowClan and ThunderClan,” Bluestar told him.

“ThunderClan started it!” Fernshade growled.

“The cats from the Dark Forest started it!” Bluestar reminded them. She glanced at Yellowfang. “Not just Brokenstar. Tigerstar and Hawkfrost, too.”

Oakheart narrowed his eyes. “Do we know who they’re training?” His slick RiverClan pelt was starred with beads of rain.

Yellowfang showed her cracked and stained teeth. “Brokenstar will claim any soul he can reach.”

“What if they recruit a Clan leader?” Fernshade growled.

Mudfur, the old WindClan medicine cat, shook his head. “We can no longer trust any cat.”

“Or Clan,” Sagewhisker muttered darkly.

Mudfur stiffened and tasted the air, ears pricking. “Who’s there? Mudclaw? We weren’t expecting to see you here.”

The cats turned to watch the WindClan warrior hurry down the slope. “I came as soon as I heard. What’s the plan? How are we going to deal with the Dark Forest cats?”

Grass ripped beneath Bluestar’s paws as she unsheathed her claws. “We must persuade the Clans to join forces and fight this threat together.”

Sagewhisker flattened her ears. “How will they know who to fight?”

“Why don’t the Dark Forest warriors just come and fight us, if they’re so hungry for a battle?” Fernshade snarled.

Lionheart stared over the rippling grass. “Because that would be too easy. They know they’ll hurt us much worse if they attack the Clans we left behind.”

“Is there no other way to defeat them?” Oakheart fixed his questioning gaze on Bluestar.

She froze for a moment as though she were scanning his thoughts. Then she blinked. “Tigerstar has only ever understood violence.”

Oakheart looked away.

“That’s all any Dark Forest cat understands,” Bluestar pressed. “If we try to reason with them, they will see it as weakness.”

Sagewhisker snorted. “Just as long as no one’s blaming ShadowClan for Brokenstar.” She glanced at Yellowfang.

“As far as I can see, it’s ShadowClan who’s suffered most this time,” Fernshade added.

Thunder cracked overhead.

Sagewhisker nudged Fernshade. “You’d better fetch Russetfur.”

As she spoke, the skies opened. Rain pelted the glade, and the cats scattered, racing for the shelter of the trees.

“Fernshade!” Yellowfang called after the tortoiseshell warrior.

Fernshade skidded to a stop and glanced back. “What?”

Rain blurred Yellowfang’s gaze. “Have a safe journey.” Her voice cracked. “And tell Russetfur that I’m sorry.”

Chapter 1

A yowl sliced through the shriek of battle, sharp with grief more than rage.

Dovepaw ducked out of Toadfoot’s way and spun around.

Firestar!

The ThunderClan leader was being dragged away across the battle-crowded clearing. The grass glistened crimson behind him. Birchfall sank his teeth farther into Firestar’s scruff and heaved him over Spiderleg’s shoulders, then helped to carry him away into the trees.

Horror pulsed through Dovepaw. Around her, the fighting was shuddering to a stop as cats sheathed their claws and stared in bewilderment. Firestar’s deputy, Brambleclaw, his broad shoulders wet with blood, padded toward Blackstar. The ShadowClan leader didn’t look up. His head was bent over a dark ginger pelt.

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “The battle is won,” he growled. “The clearing is ours. Do you concede or shall we fight for it again?”

Blackstar flashed a look of burning hatred over his shoulder. “Take it,” he hissed. “It was never worth the blood that has been spilled here today.”

As Brambleclaw backed away, Dovepaw recognized the ginger pelt.

Russetfur! Is she dead?

The ShadowClan deputy lay unmoving, apart from the blood that trickled from her lips. Her Clanmates began to step carefully past the ThunderClan warriors and head for the pines. Scorchfur, Tigerheart, and Rowanclaw stopped beside their leader. While Scorchfur nudged Blackstar to his paws and guided him gently into the trees, Tigerheart grabbed Russetfur’s pelt and slowly, gently, heaved her onto Rowanclaw’s shoulders. Then in silence they followed their battered Clanmates into the mist-wrapped trees.

Dovepaw stared after them, the energy draining from her as she saw Tigerheart’s tail snake into the shadows. She looked around for Ivypaw. Her sister was helping Blossomfall limp toward the forest.

“Come on, Blossomfall,” Ivypaw was murmuring to her Clanmate. “Jayfeather’ll fix you up.” There was no hint of their past quarrels in her mew.

Squirrelflight was checking Leafpool’s wounds, while Leafpool scanned the battlefield, her eyes round with worry. “Lionblaze is okay,” Squirrelflight reassured her sister.

Brightheart lay panting on the grass, her one good eye so wide that a circle of white showed around the blue.

Cloudtail nudged her with his muzzle. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you start moving,” he urged.

Brightheart let out a low moan as she hauled herself to her paws.

Bumblestripe, one ear torn, surveyed the flattened grass. “I think we showed them,” he declared.

Hazeltail glanced at him with scorn in her eyes and pressed closer to Mousewhisker, lapping at her sister’s bleeding, ruffled fur. “Showed them what?” she muttered between licks. “How much blood can be spilled in a pointless battle?”

Only Lionblaze looked uninjured. A smear of blood stained his flank, but Dovepaw knew it wasn’t his. She frowned, doubts flocking into her mind like starlings. Lionblaze was part of the prophecy, like she was. His power was the ability to fight any cat, any creature at all, without being hurt.

Why couldn’t Lionblaze have saved Firestar? What’s the point of having all that power if he couldn’t help his leader?

In front of her, Brambleclaw crossed the stained grass where Russetfur had lain, and touched the tip of his tail to Lionblaze’s shoulder. “Russetfur was too old for this battle,” he murmured. “It wasn’t your fault she died.”

Lionblaze hung his head.

Oh, StarClan! Dovepaw’s belly tightened. Lionblaze killed Russetfur? Her mentor looked shattered, his eyes dull. She hurried to his side and pressed against his flank. She felt utterly helpless. Her power was the ability to hear and see things that were happening far away, much farther than other cats could sense; she should have known what ShadowClan had been up to. Instead it had been her sister, Ivypaw, who had told Firestar that Blackstar was planning to invade ThunderClan’s territory and steal more land for hunting. Had StarClan sent a dream to Ivypaw because Dovepaw had refused to use her powers to spy on the other Clans? Maybe if Dovepaw had been listening and watching, as Lionblaze had asked, she’d have known what ShadowClan was going to do. She could have warned Firestar about it before there was no choice left but to fight.

Could I have prevented this?

She felt Lionblaze’s warm breath as he touched his muzzle to the top of her head. “Come on,” he whispered wearily. “Let’s go home.”

Dovepaw pressed close to Lionblaze as they trudged on heavy paws through the whispering trees.

Chapter 2

Jayfeather reached a paw into the far corner of his medicine store. He could smell stale marigold tucked beneath the rock; it was the last of his supply and so old that he wasn’t sure it’d be strong enough to keep infection from Sorreltail’s wound. But he clawed it out anyway and pawed it together with the last of his dried oak.

“This might sting,” he warned Sorreltail.

The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat had been sitting patiently beside Briarlight’s nest. “That’s okay.” From the echo of her voice, Jayfeather could tell she was watching the dozing young warrior. “Her breathing sounds rough.”

Briarlight had fallen asleep before sunset despite the steady flow of injured warriors and apprentices through the den. Sorreltail was the last, having insisted on waiting until the others had been treated, though the gash in her shoulder was deep and still oozing blood.

Jayfeather pressed on the poultice and reached for cobwebs to cover it. “She has a chest infection,” he explained, draping sticky white strands across the wound. “I’m not sure whether to make her exercise harder to clear her chest or to let her rest and fight it from inside.”

Sorreltail brushed his shoulder with her muzzle. “Have you asked Leafpool?”

Jayfeather flicked his tail crossly toward the wads of bloodstained moss and herb fragments that littered the den floor. “Does it look like I’ve had time?”

“I just wondered,” Sorreltail replied mildly.

“Besides,” Jayfeather muttered, “Leafpool’s busy checking injuries.”

“I suppose.” Sorreltail got to her paws. “Thanks for the herbs.”

Regretting his sharpness, Jayfeather touched her flank with his tail. “Do you want poppy seeds to help you sleep?”

“No, thanks.” Sorreltail padded away. “Brackenfur’s snoring lulls me better than any medicine.”

Jayfeather had treated the golden warrior earlier, snapping his wrenched shoulder back into place before sending him to his nest with strict instructions not to move until sunrise. The rest of the Clan had been spared serious injury. Only Firestar’s wound had required careful attention. The tear in his neck had been closed with cobwebs and firmly bound. It would heal, but the life that had seeped away could never be replaced. Jayfeather pictured the faint warrior in StarClan, a little less transparent now, his flame-colored pelt one shade more vivid against the greenness of StarClan’s hunting grounds.

As Sorreltail limped from the den, Briarlight stirred. “What a mess,” she rasped over the edge of her nest.

“How are you?” Jayfeather sniffed her, relieved to find that her ears were cooler.

“Sleepy. How’s Firestar?” Briarlight blinked.

“Asleep in his den,” Jayfeather told her. “Sandstorm’s watching over him. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

“If only Russetfur hadn’t attacked him.” Briarlight had heard all the gossip from the other warriors. “Then Firestar would be fine, and Lionblaze wouldn’t have killed Russetfur.”

Jayfeather tensed. “Russetfur was too old to be fighting!”

The brambles swished, and Jayfeather breathed the familiar scent of Lionblaze. The warrior padded heavily into the den. “I should have realized that before I attacked her.”

“What else could you do? She was killing Firestar.” Jayfeather shook out his fur and crossed the den to greet his brother. “Is Dovepaw okay?”

“She’s fine,” Lionblaze reassured him. “Still quiet. But fine.”

Dovepaw had returned from the battle shivering and speechless with shock. Jayfeather had offered her thyme, but she’d refused, saying she was just tired. Unlike her Clanmates, who were keen to share every battle move, Dovepaw had sat silently while Jayfeather checked her over, only mentioning when prompted that Lionblaze had saved her from Dawnpelt.

Is it fair to make apprentices fight alongside warriors? Worry for Dovepaw tightened Jayfeather’s belly. Sometimes she seemed so young. At least Ivypaw was okay. She seemed rather pleased with herself, actually. And with only a bruised tail to show for her run-in with ShadowClan’s fiercest warriors.

But she hadn’t mentioned her dream again. The dream she’d blurted out to Firestar where ShadowClan had invaded ThunderClan territory and set the forest streams running with blood. In fact, when Jayfeather had slipped into Ivypaw’s thoughts, it had vanished from her mind. How could she forget a nightmare so vivid that it had sparked the battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan?

Jayfeather turned his blind blue gaze on Lionblaze. “Was it worth it?”

“The battle?” Lionblaze stiffened. “Of course!”

“But to lose two lives over a worthless piece of grass!”

“We’ve sent ShadowClan a message they won’t forget.”

“At what cost?” Jayfeather sighed.

“We must not turn soft now.” Lionblaze’s voice dropped to a whisper as Briarlight’s attention pricked across the den. “Who knows where the next blow might fall?”

Jayfeather’s shoulders sagged as Briarlight began coughing again.

Lionblaze nosed him toward his patient. “We can’t afford to ignore any signs now,” he hissed. “Go on, see to Briarlight. We’ll talk later.”

As his brother swished out of the cave, Jayfeather began massaging Briarlight’s flank with his paws. Her coughing subsided, and she laid her chin on the side of her nest, her breath quickly easing into sleep.

“Is she okay?” Leafpool’s hushed mew sounded at the den entrance. She padded over to Briarlight’s nest.

“A little cooler.” Jayfeather could hear Leafpool scraping cobwebs from her paws. He could tell by the scent that she’d been repatching Cloudtail’s gashes. “How’s Brackenfur’s shoulder?” He was worried that wrenching it back into place might have damaged more than it fixed. “Did you get a chance to look at it?”

“Y-yes.” She hesitated. “What do you think?”

Jayfeather’s belly knotted. In the past, her question would have been a test. Now Leafpool sounded like she really wasn’t sure. Why mumble like a nervous apprentice? It was as though she was frightened of putting a paw wrong. His mind drifted back to when she used to boss him around in this very den. He’d answer back, and she’d snap in return. The air would fizz and crackle as he rebelled against her overcautious fussing.

The memory hurt. He’d known Leafpool in those days; he’d been able to predict her every objection. Since he had found out that she was his mother, he felt as if he didn’t know her at all.

Ignoring her question, he dismissed her. “Will you check on Firestar, please?” He lifted a paw to wash.

Leafpool’s whiskers brushed his toes as she dipped her head. “Of course.”

Stop acting like a mouse! Jayfeather thought indignantly, while he tugged a sprig of thyme from between his claws. The brambles swished, and Leafpool’s pads scuffed away across the clearing.

Jayfeather paused from washing and listened to his Clanmates settling down for the night. Poppyfrost was washing Molekit and Cherrykit inside the nursery. Purdy’s rumbling mew droned in the elders’ nest. Brackenfur was snoring just as Sorreltail had predicted. Blossomfall was fixing her nest in the warriors’ den underneath the fallen beech; perhaps she was trying to make it the way it was before the tree had crashed into the hollow.

Jayfeather shuddered as he remembered the day it had fallen. Its roots had been loosened by rainfall, and the great tree had slid from the top of the cliff and smashed down into the camp, crushing the elders’ den and demolishing the thornbush where the warriors used to sleep. Longtail had died. Briarlight had been crippled, her back broken so that she could no longer feel her hind legs. It was only Dovepaw’s powerful hearing that had prevented more cats from being killed or maimed.

For half a moon the Clan had worked to rebuild their home, clearing twigs, leaves, and branches as much as they could. They had rebuilt the elders’ den by weaving the old honeysuckle tendrils around a frame of splintered wood. The beech still spanned the camp, its trunk like a spine, its boughs a rib cage jabbing into the clearing, its roots gripping the bramble nursery like claws. Every night was filled with the sound of leaves and twigs being tugged and adjusted as the warriors worked on their nests in their new den beneath the strongest bough of the fallen tree.

Jayfeather was still finding it hard to navigate the camp, tripping on unexpected branches or piles of twigs that had been brushed to one side but not yet cleared. Longtail, the blind elder, would have struggled even more to adjust. Perhaps he was lucky to be with StarClan, luckier than Briarlight. She had a chest infection now because she couldn’t run and hunt like her Clanmates. She could only drag herself to and from the clearing, her hindquarters dead as fresh-kill.

Jayfeather shook himself. Fretting wouldn’t help. He rinsed his paws in the pool, shuddering at the chilliness of the water, then padded to the bracken pile beside Briarlight’s nest.

As Jayfeather curled into the smooth stems and closed his eyes, Ivypaw’s dream pricked his thoughts. Why had StarClan set this battle in motion? He couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that StarClan would never share dreams with Ivypaw. Why choose her and not one of the Three?

I’ll talk to Lionblaze about it in the morning. Tired to the tip of his tail, he let his mind drift into sleep.

The stench of decay made him shudder. Blinking open his eyes, he found himself in the Dark Forest. Shadows pressed like dark pelts around him. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. What was he doing here? Was Tigerstar planning to recruit him?

No. Tigerstar was no fool.

He tasted the air. A familiar scent bathed his tongue. Stiffening, Jayfeather peered through the gloom.

“Hello!” A cheerful mew sounded in a clearing ahead.

Ivypaw?

A gruff mew answered her. “Sorry if I scared you today.”

Who is she talking to?

“You didn’t scare me at all.” Ivypaw didn’t sound frightened or even surprised to be in the Dark Forest. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re one of the Clanmates, aren’t you?”

The Clanmates?

Crouching low, Jayfeather ducked into the mist and crept forward. Ivypaw stood a fox-length away, ears pricked, tail high. Beside her, Jayfeather recognized the broad shoulders of a dark brown tabby.

Tigerheart!

The ShadowClan warrior leaned close to the ThunderClan apprentice. “I saw you with Hawkfrost the other night while I was training with Brokenstar. I never guessed you’d be one of us.”

One of us? Jayfeather crept closer.

Tigerheart circled Ivypaw. “You’re good.” Ivypaw fluffed out her chest as Tigerheart went on. “It was a shame our Clans had to fight, though. How did that happen?”

Tell him about your dream!

Paw steps scuffed in the shadows, and cold fear traced Jayfeather’s spine as a rumbling mew interrupted the two young Clan cats.

“Come on, Ivypaw! You’re wasting time!”

Jayfeather’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the speaker. Hawkfrost. Tigerstar’s son, endlessly furious that he had been killed by his half brother, Brambleclaw, when he was trying to take Firestar’s remaining lives and leave ThunderClan leaderless and vulnerable for his and Tigerstar’s own cruel ambition.

“You fought well today,” the former RiverClan warrior growled. “But you got the move wrong when you attacked Scorchfur. Never turn on two legs when you can manage on one!” He beckoned Ivypaw away with his tail. She followed without question, disappearing after him into the mist. Hawkfrost’s growl shot back from the shadows. “Wait there, Tigerheart. Brokenstar’s coming for you soon.”

Jayfeather stared in horror, his paws frozen to the chilly earth.

As the mist swirled around him, mews and growls began to rise from the shadows; young voices chirped with questions and called for approval while older mews snarled in reply, urging them on, pushing them ever harder. It was the noise of training sessions from any Clan by the lake—except this wasn’t the lake, it was the Place of No Stars. Jayfeather glimpsed sleek, oily pelts wrestling in the shadows and smelled RiverClan. Beyond a line of gray ferns, lither shapes reared and swiped at each other.

WindClan, too?

“Unsheathe your claws!”

“Fight like a warrior, not a kit!”

The scents of decay swamped Jayfeather’s tongue.

Then Breezepelt’s mew rose from the shadows. “I wish I’d fought in the battle today.” The WindClan warrior sounded tense with frustration. “I’d have fought on your side if I’d been given the chance.”

Who is he talking to?

Jayfeather tasted the air, reaching through the foul tastes of the Dark Forest and shuddering as he recognized a ShadowClan scent. Breezepelt was swearing allegiance to a ShadowClan cat!

Another shape moved between the trees. Jayfeather spotted the long dark spine moving through the mist like a snake. Yellowfang had given this cat a name on his last visit to the Dark Forest—a name she had spat from her tongue like poison.

Brokenstar.

“Don’t worry, Breezepelt,” the black-furred warrior growled. “There’ll be many more chances to fight. We’ll destroy the warrior code. Once it’s gone, there’ll be no limit to what we can achieve.”

Breezepelt growled excitedly as Brokenstar went on. “With no mouse-hearted rules telling us what to do, we can rebuild the Clans stronger than ever.”

Jayfeather shivered against the dread hollowing his belly. Clan cats, cats who lived beside the lake during their waking moments, surrounded him. He could feel their warm hearts beating, quickened by the lies of the dead. There was no hiding now from what was happening: Cats from every Clan were being trained by Dark Forest warriors to rise against their Clanmates, trained to break every part of the code the Clans had long fought to protect.

Chapter 3

“Mouse dung!” Lionblaze grumbled under his breath as Birchfall, snoring, flopped his legs onto Lionblaze’s belly for the third time.

I wish I could sleep! Lionblaze heaved Birchfall away roughly. He got to his paws.

“Ouch!” A sharp twig jabbed Lionblaze between the ears. The roof was low and as prickly as a hedgehog, bristling with twigs that still needed to be trimmed. The whole den needed trimming.

Lionblaze wrinkled his nose. The air was rank with the stench of combat-weary warriors. Unease tightened his belly as he thought about the battle. Russetfur shouldn’t have died. The skirmish over the Twoleg clearing should have played out till the strongest Clan had claimed the territory. Death had no part in a fight over boundaries.

Lionblaze brushed past Millie, tucked into a ball beside the entrance, and pushed his way out of the den, cold air nipping his nose. He blinked, relishing the chill, pulling free of the trailing branches that dragged at his pelt. The clearing glittered in bright moonlight. Frost silvered the cliffs that circled the camp, and the ground felt like stone. Lionblaze’s warm pads stung for a few paw steps, then grew numb with the cold.

He paused and listened. In the medicine den, Jayfeather soothed Briarlight as she coughed. Molekit was purring in the nursery, probably warming himself with Poppyfrost’s milk. The battle seemed like another world away.

A faint crack sounded from the top of the hollow. Lionblaze jerked his gaze upward and saw a piece of grit catch the moonlight as it fell. It landed with a tiny snick on the frozen clearing.

Something’s up there.

Lionblaze headed for the barrier. Jayfeather had warned that the Dark Forest was rising against them; no sign could be ignored.

“Lionblaze?” Cinderheart squeezed from the den entrance behind him. “Are you okay?”

Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder. Cinderheart’s gray tabby pelt was still ruffled from her nest. “Did you hear something out there?”

The thorns rustled, and Hazeltail slid into the hollow. “What’s up?” Firestar had assigned her to guard the entrance with Graystripe. The ThunderClan leader always doubled the guard after battles.

“Have you seen or heard anything tonight?” Lionblaze glanced back up to the top of the hollow.

Hazeltail followed his gaze. “No.”

“Has Graystripe?”

“Did someone say my name?” The gray warrior peered in through the barrier. His fur was fluffed up against the cold.

“Has anything happened while you’ve been on watch?” Lionblaze pressed.

“Nothing.”

Hazeltail stretched, stifling a yawn. “It’s been silent as the stars all evening,” she agreed. “Why? Are you expecting something?”

The fallen speck of grit glinted on the frosty ground.

“It’s probably just prey,” Lionblaze muttered.

“Mmm, prey.” Graystripe licked his lips and ducked back out of sight. Hazeltail shook out her fur and padded through the thorns to join him outside.

Cinderheart eyed Lionblaze. “Shall we go and check?”

Lionblaze hesitated. “It’ll be freezing in the forest.”

Cinderheart shrugged. “A run will warm us up.”

“But it’s the middle of the night.” He didn’t want to share his unease with her. And what if there was something there? He felt a protective surge rise in his chest. “You stay here. I’ll check.”

Cinderheart’s eyes flashed in the moonlight. “I’m not a kit!”

Flustered, Lionblaze flicked his tail. “I didn’t mean—”

Cinderheart marched past him. “And I’m not going to stand here till my paws freeze to the ground!”

Lionblaze sighed as she stalked toward the camp entrance. If Cinderheart was going to be stubborn, there was nothing he could do about it.

He followed her to the barrier. “We’d better be on the lookout for ShadowClan,” he warned. “They might still have a taste for ThunderClan blood.”

Cinderheart glanced back at him sharply. “You think?” She pushed her way through the tunnel.

Lionblaze snorted, annoyed with himself. She was right; he was treating her like a kit.

“Where are you two going?” Graystripe challenged as they emerged from the wall of thorns.

“Can’t sleep,” Cinderheart explained.

“Be careful,” Hazeltail cautioned.

“We won’t stay out long.” Lionblaze’s breath billowed in front of him. “It’s too cold.” He followed a narrow path through the frosty bracken and up through the trees.

At the top of the hollow, they emerged from the forest into moonlight. Lionblaze sniffed at the grass edging the cliff top. It was limp with frost, and he could smell nothing but frozen leaves and ice.

“Are you okay?” Cinderheart’s mew was hushed with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“About Russetfur.” Cinderheart tipped her head to one side. “About her dying.”

Lionblaze stiffened. “About me killing her, you mean?”

“You had to save Firestar.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Lionblaze turned back to the grass, following the glittering stalks around the hollow’s edge toward a fallen branch. He could only smell ThunderClan scents. No sign of intruders, or prey.

“You have to talk about it,” Cinderheart persisted. “Every other cat will be talking about it. You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“It shouldn’t have happened!” The words burst from Lionblaze, anger flooding quickly after. He sprang onto the fallen branch and turned on his Clanmate. “I never meant to kill her!” He tore at the bark, ripping chunks out with his claws. “I was just trying to save Firestar! But I didn’t even manage to do that. He still lost a life!”

Cinderheart flinched from the spray of splinters. “You did save Firestar.” Her voice was firm. “Who knows what Russetfur would’ve done next? She might have taken all his lives.”

Why was she making him remember? He was suddenly back in the battle, Russetfur struggling in his grip as he tried to rip her from Firestar. He shuddered as he felt her grow limp beneath his claws. Why had StarClan let him kill her?

Cinderheart kept pushing. “Every warrior knows they might die in battle. Why are you so upset? Are you afraid ShadowClan will retaliate?” Her dark blue eyes reflected the stars. “Why should they? Death happens. Clans have more to worry about than losing a warrior.”

“She was their deputy!” Lionblaze snapped.

Cinderheart met his gaze. “She was old.”

Lionblaze’s anger weakened its grip. He was suddenly sorry he had let his temper get the better of him. “A true warrior doesn’t kill to win,” he murmured. “Remember the code?”

Cinderheart blinked, her pelt smoothing, then turned and stared into the trees as though watching a thought drift into the forest. “Maybe times are changing,” she breathed.

Lionblaze stiffened. “No!”

Cinderheart shifted her paws.

“What do you mean?” Lionblaze pressed. “The warrior code is the same as it always was. How can something that important to all the Clans change?”

Cinderheart shrugged. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Lionblaze felt his pelt start to prickle. Had Dovepaw given something away about the prophecy?

“Something . . .” Cinderheart seemed to be searching for the right words. “Something feels different. The battle was so vicious—too vicious for a fight over boundaries—almost as if it was just the beginning of something much worse.” Her eyes were round, dark pools.

Lionblaze stared at her. Was she the only cat to feel this way? He was used to the prophecy: There will be three who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. He’d known for moons that ancient enemies were stirring. The Clans were on the edge of darkness. The knowledge colored every moment for him now; it shaped every thought. But the rest of the Clan must be protected from knowing. It was more than they could comprehend, more than they could cope with, however hard they trained, however much they believed in the warrior code.

“Have you had a dream? Some warning?” he demanded. “If you have, you should tell Firestar.”

Cinderheart shook her head. “No. It just feels wrong that Russetfur tried to kill Firestar. She was a fine warrior. Why try and kill him? She must’ve known StarClan would disapprove.”

Lionblaze leaned forward as she went on.

“It was like something darker was driving ShadowClan.”

A shriek from the trees made them both spin, fur on end, claws unsheathed. A white owl wheeled from between the trunks. It dived toward them, the air from the downbeat of its wide, snowy wings lifting their fur as it swooped past.

“What in the name of StarClan?” Lionblaze gasped.

A wing tip whipped against his muzzle, and he fought to keep his balance on the branch as, with another shriek, the owl whirled away over the hollow. With a startled yowl, Cinderheart pelted into the trees, her tail bristled like gorse. Lionblaze hared after her.

He started to call to his denmate, to reassure her, but he stopped himself. Running would wear out her fear soon enough. Besides, the cold night wind felt good in his fur. He felt powerful. Trees blurred around him; branches trembled as he passed. Cinderheart’s tail, a fox-length ahead, was already beginning to smooth, snaking behind her as she plunged through a stand of bracken. He followed, the frozen stalks scraping his pelt.

Cinderheart swerved as they burst from the bracken. The forest floor dropped away in a short steep slope that Cinderheart leaped in an easy stride, landing lightly and racing onward. She veered to skirt a knot of bare brambles. The trees grew thicker around them as they headed deeper into the forest. Lionblaze let Cinderheart lead, enjoying the warmth of her wake, matching her pace, concentrating only on the ground beneath his paws.

When Cinderheart began to slow, he slowed too, flanks heaving, breath coming in hard gasps, as together they pulled to a halt. Lionblaze was surprised to see the abandoned Twoleg nest, dark against the darker trees. He hadn’t realized they had run so far. They trotted past in silence and headed up the oak-lined slope behind the stones. Brambles sprang in front of them, but Cinderheart kept pushing her way through until she stumbled into a tiny clearing.

Behind her, Lionblaze stopped with a jolt.

“What is it?” Cinderheart asked, turning.

Lionblaze stared around the cramped space, hedged by thorns. He had been here once before. Then the sloping ground had been flat and grassy, dipping down in the center to a hole. Now the hole was gone, and instead of smooth grass, rocks and mud had set like a scab on the forest floor.

Lionblaze felt sick. Somewhere below that wounded earth lay his sister Hollyleaf’s body. This was where she had fled into the tunnels after finding out that Leafpool was their real mother. The entrance had collapsed and disappeared behind a mudslide, trapping her forever.

“What is it?” Cinderheart’s whiskers brushed his.

Lionblaze shook his head. Only he and Jayfeather knew the truth of Hollyleaf’s disappearance, the reason she had vanished underground: not just because of Leafpool, but because she had killed Ashfur, the only cat apart from them and Squirrelflight who knew, in order to keep the secret. When Ashfur’s death changed nothing in the storm inside Hollyleaf’s head, she had announced the truth at a Gathering, then returned to confront Leafpool one final time before fleeing to the tunnel. As far as her Clanmates were concerned, she had died in a tragic accident, and Ashfur’s murderer was still unknown, presumed to be a passing rogue.

Lionblaze had been so excited when he’d first seen the tunnels. The wonder of them! A secret place to meet and have fun. Now he stared at the fractured earth and wished Heathertail had never found them. Guilt pricked his pelt as he remembered playing underground with the pretty WindClan warrior while they were both still apprentices.

A growl rumbled in his throat. If Heathertail hadn’t discovered the tunnels, Hollyleaf might still be alive.

“Lionblaze?” Cinderheart’s anxious mew brought Lionblaze to his senses. His paws ached, and he realized he had been digging his claws deep into the frozen earth.

“What is it?” Cinderheart was staring at him with her head to one side. “Are you still spooked by the owl?”

“I guess so.” Lionblaze unhooked his claws from the earth and smoothed his fur with a few licks. “Let’s check the ShadowClan border,” he suggested, hoping to distract her. “We’re almost there.”

“Not still scared they’re after our blood?”

Lionblaze glanced at the lightening sky, ignoring her teasing. “It’s nearly dawn,” he meowed. “We can do an early patrol and report back to Firestar.”

Cinderheart looked relieved. “You sound like a warrior again.” She brushed past him. “You had me worried.”

Lionblaze fell in beside her. “Worried about me?”

“Why not?” She stopped and gazed at him seriously. “You’re a good friend.”

Maybe more than a friend?

Before he could summon the courage to say it out loud, she darted away.

“I’ll race you!” she called.

Lionblaze gave chase, keeping up easily as Cinderheart swerved between the trees. Would he ever have the nerve to tell her he wanted her to be more than a friend? His fur prickled with frustration. He could be the bravest warrior in all four Clans, but the thought of telling Cinderheart how he felt drained every drop of courage from him.

Stars glimmered between the trunks ahead. They were nearing the edge of the forest.

He quickened his pace. “Hurry up!” He pulled ahead of Cinderheart, pretending to tease. Truthfully, he wanted to reach the Twoleg clearing before she did. They had fought for it and won it, but he still didn’t trust ShadowClan. There was no way he was going to let Cinderheart run into a trap.

He stopped at the edge of the trees, signaling to Cinderheart with his tail to keep back. She ignored him and crouched at his side as he peered across the frost-whitened grass. “I wish Firestar had never asked for it back!” she muttered.

Lionblaze snapped his head around and stared at her, shocked.

She shifted her paws. “I just mean it’s impossible to patrol.” There was an apology in her mew, as though she sensed she’d spoken too hastily. “ShadowClan can see us patrolling the moment we set paw out of the forest, and the hunting’s so poor, and the Twolegs are here all greenleaf—” She broke off.

Lionblaze saw the sense in her argument and wanted to tell her that he’d had doubts about the battle, too. Had it really been worth the blood that had been spilled? But he held his tongue. The Clan had to remain strong and united, now more than ever.

He stifled a shiver. The sound of battle echoed in his ears. Yet again, he felt Russetfur’s life ebb away beneath his claws. Sickness rose in his throat, and he pressed his belly to the earth.

“Someone’s watching us!” Cinderheart’s hiss jerked him back to the present.

“Where?”

Cinderheart pointed with her muzzle, and Lionblaze spotted a pair of eyes gleaming from among the ShadowClan trees on the other side of the clearing.

In a flash, Lionblaze was tearing across the grass. No cat was going to touch the newly won ThunderClan territory. Pelt bristling with anger, he skidded to a halt a tail-length from the ShadowClan border, ears flattened, tail lashing.

The eyes blinked at him calmly; then a cat stepped out from the trees.

Flametail.

The ShadowClan medicine cat stared at him boldly. “Come to kill me like you killed Russetfur?” he growled.

Cinderheart’s paws sounded behind Lionblaze. “This is our territory now,” she warned the ShadowClan cat. “You’d be wise to remember that.”

Flametail snorted and padded closer, crossing the scent line as casually as if he were padding into his own camp. “I’m a medicine cat,” he reminded them. “I can go where I please.”

Lionblaze swallowed against the rage that rose from his belly. ShadowClan arrogance! “Shouldn’t you be back at your camp, treating your wounded?”

“My Clanmates are well.” Flametail fixed his gaze on Lionblaze. “Except for Russetfur, of course.”

Lionblaze had to stop himself from leaping at the young cat. Didn’t Flametail understand the significance of the battle? Didn’t he understand how much it had cost both Clans?

He felt Cinderheart’s tail brush his flank. “Enough,” she murmured, smoothing his bristling fur. “He wants a reaction. Don’t give it to him.”

Lionblaze let her soft mew soothe him and pulled in his claws.

“You’d best steer well clear of ThunderClan today,” Cinderheart told the ShadowClan cat. “We have to set new markers, and yours is not the only Clan that has suffered from the battle.”

Flametail blinked at Lionblaze, ignoring Cinderheart. “Once I thought we were kin,” he spat. “Now I’m glad we’re not. I would hate to share blood with a murderer.”

Lionblaze let out a warning yowl, but Flametail turned and, chin high, stalked back into the trees.

“The fox-hearted coward!” Lionblaze wanted to tear Flametail to shreds and feel his life ebb away as Russetfur’s had.

“Let’s go.” Cinderheart circled him nervously, edging him backward, away from the ShadowClan border. “There’s nothing we can do here except make more trouble.”

Growling, Lionblaze turned and plunged across the clearing. Reaching the ThunderClan forest, he crashed through a wall of brambles, hardly feeling the thorns that slashed his muzzle and tugged lumps from his pelt. Rage and grief blinded him as he raced through the forest. He headed for the hollow, running blindly, ignoring Graystripe and Hazeltail as they welcomed him back. The thorn barrier swooshed past him as he hurtled into camp.

Berrynose was at the nursery entrance, looking rather startled. “Is everything okay?” he called.

“Fine.”

Berrynose narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded and disappeared into the brambles. Squeaks of welcome sounded inside as Molekit and Cherrykit greeted their father.

“Lionblaze?” Jayfeather was beside the warriors’ den.

“What are you doing awake?” Lionblaze panted. “It’s not even dawn.”

“Checking on the wounded cats.”

“Is everyone okay?”

Jayfeather nodded and headed for the barrier. “Come with me,” he instructed. “We need to talk.”

Lionblaze was starting to feel bone tired from all his running. “What about?” he grumbled mutinously.

Jayfeather narrowed his eyes. “Ivypaw,” he growled.

Chapter 4

“Ivypaw?”

Dovepaw sat up, blinking.

Lionblaze’s disbelieving mew had woken her, ringing in her ears as clearly as a blackbird’s alarm. She jerked her head around, searching the apprentices’ den for him, but he wasn’t there. Ivypaw was sleeping; Blossomfall and Bumblestripe were still snoring in their nests. They’d move to the new warriors’ den once it was finished. Then Ivypaw and Dovepaw would be alone, the only apprentices in the Clan until Molekit and Cherrykit became ’paws.

“Yes, Ivypaw.” That was Jayfeather speaking.

Dovepaw shook her head. She must be hearing voices outside the den. She reached past the den walls into the ice-cold camp, casting her senses, searching for the conversation that had disturbed her sleep.

“Are you sure?” Lionblaze sounded breathless with disbelief.

What were they saying about Ivypaw? Why did they sound so worried? Trembling, Dovepaw scrambled out of the den. I’m one of the Three. They should be talking to me. I’m Ivypaw’s sister. She headed for the barrier, hurrying lightly over the frosted earth.

The entrance was less than a tail-length away when a voice called from outside the nursery. “Dovepaw!”

She halted, frustrated.

Berrynose was watching her. “Where are you going?” The young warrior’s creamy coat glowed in the pale light. Molekit and Cherrykit huddled beside him, tiny clouds of air spouting from their noses.

“Dirtplace.”

“Then use the dirtplace tunnel.”

Lionblaze’s voice pricked Dovepaw’s ear fur once more. “She knew him?”

Knew who?

Dovepaw had to find out. She turned and trotted to the dirtplace tunnel. She could slip out that way and find them.

Paw steps followed her. “Are you going to the dirtplace?” Ivypaw, her fur ruffled from sleep, fell in beside her. “Me too.”

Dovepaw curled her claws with frustration. There was no way she could slip away now. Ivypaw would want to come with her. As she pricked her ears, searching out Lionblaze again, she noticed that Ivypaw was limping.

“What’s wrong?” Her worries swiftly focused on her sister. Ivypaw was favoring one of her hind paws, treading lightly on one, heavily on the other. “I thought you weren’t injured in the battle.”

“I must have slept on it funny,” Ivypaw muttered. The silver-and-white she-cat stiffened as though trying to disguise her limp. “Wasn’t the battle exciting?” Ivypaw changed the subject.

“You enjoyed it?” Dovepaw stared at her sister. “But Firestar lost a life.”

“Well, that bit was bad, and Russetfur dying. But it felt so good to use all the skills we’ve learned.”

Dovepaw ducked through the dirtplace tunnel. “I’d rather stick to using hunting skills and save the fighting skills for defending my Clan.”

“But we were defending our Clan!” Ivypaw followed her. “ShadowClan was going to steal our territory. Don’t you remember my dream?”

Dovepaw didn’t answer. She still didn’t understand why StarClan had sent a dream to Ivypaw and not to her. She made her dirt and headed back into camp.

The Clan was stirring. Graystripe padded past, yawning, heading toward the warriors’ den. He cast a baleful glance at the clear dawn sky. “This chill is here to stay. Prey will be scarce before long.”

Hazeltail padded after the gray warrior. “That was a long, cold night,” she commented.

Graystripe paused to brush muzzles with Millie, who was nosing her way out of the warriors’ den. “You’re warm,” he purred.

Millie pressed against him. “Get some rest,” she told him. “It’s warm inside. I’ll catch you something nice for when you wake up.”

The first rays of sun sliced over the top of the hollow and washed the nursery in orange light. Dovepaw reached again for the conversation that had woken her, but Lionblaze and Jayfeather were heading away from camp, silent now except for their paw steps, which crunched over frozen leaves.

Why are they being so secretive?

“Hey!” Ivypaw hurried from the dirtplace tunnel. “You didn’t wait for me.”

Dovepaw forced her mew to sound light. “Are you surprised?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Are you saying I stink?” Ivypaw reared and cuffed her playfully, then winced and dropped back onto all four paws.

“Maybe you should see Jayfeather about that leg,” Dovepaw suggested.

“It’ll be okay,” Ivypaw promised. “Look.” She turned toward the halfrock, where Brambleclaw and Firestar were organizing the day’s patrols. “There are more important things to worry about.”

“I want two patrols along the new ShadowClan border.” Firestar lifted his chin as he gave the order, but his green eyes were tired. The fur at his throat was still clumped with blood where Russetfur had bitten him.

Toadstep, Icecloud, Cinderheart, and Rosepetal clustered beside the halfrock. Thornclaw, Sandstorm, and Dustpelt sat farther back, while Leafpool and Squirrelflight paced nearby.

“What’s the plan?” Cloudtail joined them, his blue eyes bleary with sleep.

“Two patrols,” Squirrelflight told him.

Firestar went on. “Brambleclaw will lead the lake patrol; Dustpelt will take the other. Thornclaw, Whitewing, and Squirrelflight, go with Brambleclaw.”

Thornclaw dipped his head. Whitewing nodded. Squirrelflight flashed an uncertain look at Brambleclaw, dropping her gaze when he returned it through narrowed eyes.

Firestar pressed on. “Cloudtail, Sorreltail, and Spiderleg, you go with Dustpelt.”

Cloudtail turned at once, fur bristling, and headed for the camp entrance. Sorreltail followed him, her denmates close on her heels. They filed out of camp, tails bushed as though ready for a fight.

“Cinderheart.” Firestar turned his attention to the gray she-cat. “It’s leaf-bare. The Clan needs skilled hunters, so practice stalking with Ivypaw today. I don’t want to let this battle distract our apprentices from their training one moment longer. Lionblaze, do the same with Dovepaw.”

Dovepaw stiffened as Firestar scanned the camp. “Where is Lionblaze?” he said.

Berrynose stepped forward. “He went out with Jayfeather just before dawn.”

Firestar’s eye caught Dovepaw’s. She could tell that he wanted to know if something was wrong. Dovepaw shrugged. She knew no more than he did.

Firestar frowned. “In that case, Dovepaw, join Cinderheart and Ivypaw.” He turned to Berrynose. “Go with them. You can take Lionblaze’s place today.”

Ivypaw leaned closer to Dovepaw. “Great,” she muttered. “Hunting practice and Berrynose.”

Dovepaw understood her sister’s frustration. They had fought alongside warriors yesterday. Today they were back to being apprentices.

“Come on.” Berrynose led the way to the entrance. As they passed the nursery, Molekit and Cherrykit broke away from Poppyfrost’s side and skipped between his paws, almost tripping him. A loud purr rumbled in Berrynose’s throat. “You’ll be warriors soon enough,” he promised. “And when you are, ShadowClan won’t dare threaten our territory.”

Ivypaw rolled her eyes and whispered to Dovepaw, “Does he have to show off about everything?”

Dovepaw hardly heard her. She was casting her senses after Jayfeather and Lionblaze. Where are you?

A shove from behind surprised her. “Stop staring into the trees,” Cinderheart chided gently. “Firestar’s right. Hunting is our priority in leaf-bare. I want you to focus.”

Dovepaw dipped her head and followed Berrynose and Ivypaw out of the hollow.

“Bring us back a vole!” Cherrykit called after them.

As they trailed through the forest to the training hollow, Dovepaw was still fretting. Why were Lionblaze and Jayfeather talking about Ivypaw? She recalled the knowing look her sister had exchanged with Tigerheart during the battle. In that brief glance it had seemed the two young cats weren’t enemies at all. She frowned. Had Lionblaze seen it too? Was he suspicious of Ivypaw’s loyalty? Surely not!

“Dovepaw.” Berrynose jolted her from her thoughts. “Concentrate!”

They’d reached the hollow and had stopped in the middle of the sandy clearing.

“What did I just say?” Berrynose demanded.

Dovepaw lifted her chin and stared at him blankly, her pelt growing hot.

With a sigh loud enough to scare off any prey in the area, Berrynose began to pace in front of her. “I said that even the most seasoned warrior needs to work on his hunting crouch and keep working on it.” He halted and whisked the cold air with his tail. “Show me yours.”

Dovepaw dropped into a crouch.

“Tuck your haunches in more, or your spring will be weak.” Berrynose nudged her flank with his nose. He straightened her tail with a paw. “Keep it off the ground. And stop twitching. The noise of fur on leaves will alert your prey.”

Dovepaw lowered her chin, holding it stiff and straight.

“Don’t stick your neck so far out,” Berrynose corrected. “You must be coiled like a snake, ready to strike, not stretched flat like a weasel sniffing for birds’ nests.”

Dovepaw dug her claws into the stone-hard ground.

Cinderheart stepped forward. “She looks fine to me.”

“I bet she couldn’t reach that conker,” Ivypaw dared.

“Bet I could!” Dovepaw slowed her breath, focusing on the prickly shell three tail-lengths ahead. She let energy build in her paws, then leaped.

She landed on it squarely. “Ouch!” Its spines jabbed her pads, and she sprang away, fur bristling.

Ivypaw squealed with amusement. “Sorry, Dovepaw! I didn’t really think you’d jump on top of it.”

“Okay, okay!” Dovepaw sat back on her haunches and lapped at her stinging paws. “I’m a mouse-brain.” She couldn’t help purring.

Ivypaw skipped around her. “Even a mouse isn’t that dumb.”

Dovepaw pretended to look hurt, then sprang at Ivypaw, knocking into her and rolling her over.

“Enough,” Cinderheart mewed affectionately. “Back to work.” She nudged Ivypaw with her muzzle. “Show us your crouch.”

Ivypaw pressed her white belly to the earth.

“You’re leaning to one side,” Berrynose warned.

Ivypaw was still favoring her injured paw. As Dovepaw watched Berrynose and Cinderheart pad around her sister, she pricked her ears and reached for the sound of Lionblaze’s mew. Concentrating hard, she let her senses trace down to the lake, her ear fur pricking as she heard waves shifting pebbles at the shore. Familiar scents hit her nose. Jayfeather and Lionblaze were beside the water, huddled close together on the stones.

“And you’re sure Ivypaw wanted to be there?”

Dovepaw stiffened. Be where? She closed her eyes. Now she could see Lionblaze and Jayfeather shaped in scent and sound, sitting on the shore with the lake lapping beside them, the icy wind lifting their fur.

“She was acting like she belonged there,” Jayfeather muttered.

Lionblaze sucked air through clenched teeth. “This is serious.”

“Serious?” Jayfeather echoed. “This is the worst thing that has ever happened to the Clans! The Dark Forest was filled with cats from every Clan! So many that a battle with the Dark Forest could destroy us all!”

Dovepaw’s fur bristled as Jayfeather’s words sunk in. She’d known that some cats were being targeted by Hawkfrost and Tigerstar, but she couldn’t believe ThunderClan cats would ever be seduced by their lies.

Something slammed into her side, sending her rolling across the frozen earth.

“Ha!” Berrynose loomed over her. “I told you she was asleep, Cinderheart!”

Dovepaw scrambled to her paws, spitting out frosty soil.

“It’s leaf-bare,” Berrynose meowed sharply. “How much prey do you think you’ll catch in your sleep?”

Dovepaw blinked at him. Ivypaw’s being trained by the Dark Forest warriors!

On the other side of the clearing, her sister was getting to her paws, her pelt ruffled from rolling on the sandy earth. She suddenly looked small and tired, her eyes dull, her shoulders drooping.

It can’t be true! Why would they choose her? She doesn’t have any special powers!

Stop! Her thoughts were rushing like a hurricane. She took a gulping breath and steadied her mind. Jayfeather might be wrong. Perhaps Tigerstar was leading him astray, not Ivypaw.

“Dovepaw!” Berrynose’s harsh mew broke into her thoughts again. “Are you this featherbrained when you train with Lionblaze?”

Dovepaw shook her head. “Sorry.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m still a bit distracted after the battle. . . .” She let her voice trail away, relieved to hear Berrynose’s tone soften.

“You’re young,” he mewed gently. “No doubt the battle was hard for you.” He brushed his tail along her flank. “Let’s concentrate on feeding your Clan. It’s every bit as important as fighting. I want to teach you something that will help with leaf-bare hunting.” He trotted to the center of the clearing. “You watch too, Ivypaw.”

Dovepaw glared at her sister as she crossed the clearing.

Ivypaw met her gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Watch this, you two.” Berrynose had dropped into a crouch. He was staring at a small mound of frozen leaves a few tail-lengths ahead. “When the ground is frozen like this, prey can hear every paw step as though it were a woodpecker tapping on a hollow log.” He moved forward slowly, sliding his paws over the frosted leaves.

“You look like a snake,” Ivypaw mewed.

Cinderheart circled her. “And he’ll sound like a snake to any prey,” she pointed out. “They’ll be so busy sniffing for a snake, they won’t think cat until it’s too late.”

As she finished, Berrynose sprang forward, darting fast as a hawk, and landed on the mound of leaves. He sat up and turned.

“You try it, Dovepaw.”

Dovepaw slithered forward a few paces, her frozen paws slipping easy as ice over ice. Then she jumped.

“Perfect!” Berrynose called as she landed on the leaf mound.

Dovepaw whisked her tail. The sooner they got this training over with, the sooner she could question her sister.

“Your turn,” Berrynose told Ivypaw.

Dovepaw sat up straight and blinked at Berrynose. “Why don’t I go off with Ivypaw and put it into practice?” she mewed. “It’s going to be such a short day.” She glanced up through the trees. The sun had hardly cleared the topmost branches. It would begin to sink before long. “Your demonstration was so good that I’m sure Ivypaw will be able to manage this move.”

Berrynose puffed out his chest. “Sounds fair.”

Cinderheart cocked her head. “Are you sure you’ve got it?”

“Absolutely,” Dovepaw promised. “And if Ivypaw needs any help, we’ll come back and find you.”

Cinderheart narrowed her eyes. “Ivypaw?”

Ivypaw nodded.

“Stay away from the ShadowClan border,” Cinderheart warned them.

“Of course!” Dovepaw was already bounding out of the training hollow. She followed a narrow trail between two gorse bushes and headed up the slope to the top of the hollow.

Ivypaw was close on her tail. Dovepaw could feel her sister’s warm breath.

“Good thinking!” Ivypaw puffed. “I couldn’t stand another moment of Berrynose showing off.”

Dovepaw didn’t reply. She was rehearsing questions in her head. Why are you doing this? How could you be so stupid?

They reached the edge of the cliffs. Dovepaw pushed on, following the curve of the sheer stone walls, ignoring the sounds of camp life far below.

“Hey, Rosepetal!” Toadstep was calling to his littermate. “Do you want to come hunting with Mousewhisker and me?”

“Leafpool’s patrol just brought back a thrush.”

“Who knows how long this frost will last? It’s best to keep the fresh-kill pile full.”

Dovepaw felt a tug on her tail.

“Weren’t we going to hunt?” Ivypaw meowed crossly.

Dovepaw ignored her, and headed through the beech trees toward the WindClan border. She could hear a squirrel pattering along the ground nearby, but she kept going. She had no intention of stopping to hunt. She had to get Ivypaw somewhere far from the Clan and ask her if Jayfeather was right.

She was suddenly aware that Ivypaw had stopped following. Skidding to a halt on the slippery leaves, she turned back. Ivypaw had dropped into a hunting crouch and was stalking a mouse as it sat nibbling a beechnut between the roots of a tree. Ivypaw pulled herself forward, eyes locked on her prey.

How can you hunt like everything’s normal? Rage rose in Dovepaw’s throat until she couldn’t swallow it back anymore.

“Stop!” she yowled.

The mouse froze, then dropped its nut and darted away beneath the roots of the beech.

“Is it true?” Dovepaw marched toward her sister, pelt bristling, half with fear, half with anger.

Ivypaw blinked at her.

Dovepaw took a deep breath. “Have you been to the Dark Forest?”

“What?” Ivypaw stepped back.

“You heard me!” Dovepaw halted and glared at her sister. “Have you been to the Dark Forest?”

“Of course not!” Ivypaw was bristling now, her green eyes wide. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Jayfeather followed you in your dreams.” Dovepaw saw Ivypaw swallow.

“I—I . . .”

“So it’s true?” Dovepaw’s heart pounded.

Ivypaw’s blue eyes hardened. “So what if I did? It’s the only way I’m going to learn how to be a great warrior. Everyone’s trying so hard to make you the best warrior in ThunderClan; they hardly bother with me. I’m just Dovepaw’s dumb sister—”

Dovepaw couldn’t bear to listen. “How could you be so stupid? The Dark Forest cats are evil!”

“How would you know?” Ivypaw spat back. “You’ve never met one!”

Dovepaw stared at her. “Of course they’re evil. Why else would they be in the Dark Forest? Do you think StarClan sent Tigerstar there because he was good?”

“Have you ever met Tigerstar?”

“No! But I’ve heard nursery tales about him. So have you! He tried to destroy Firestar; he set BloodClan on him—”

“He’s different now!” Ivypaw thrust her muzzle in Dovepaw’s face. “His time in the Dark Forest has taught him the importance of loyalty.” Was that a challenge in her mew?

Dovepaw didn’t flinch. “You’re wrong,” she hissed. “He wants to destroy Firestar as much as he ever did. The only thing that matters to Tigerstar is power.”

Ivypaw curled her lip. “You haven’t spoken to him. I have! He told me everything. How he only became ShadowClan’s leader after Bluestar forced him out of ThunderClan. How he’s always stayed loyal to his birth Clan. Despite everything they’ve done to him!”

“Everything they’ve done to him?” Dovepaw couldn’t believe her ears.

“Who won the battle yesterday?”

“What’s the battle got to do with it?”

“It was Tigerstar’s idea! He’s the one who told me to persuade Firestar to fight ShadowClan. He warned me that ShadowClan was planning to steal our territory. And because of Tigerstar, we stole their territory instead. What’s that, if it’s not loyalty?”

“But Tigerstar is part of the Dark Forest! You can’t trust him! Don’t you see that the battle caused nothing but trouble?” Dovepaw spat. “Winning a worthless piece of land cost Firestar a life and killed Russetfur!”

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “Tigerstar is still loyal to ThunderClan. You’re just jealous. You’re jealous that it’s me he’s visiting and not you! You’re scared I might become a better warrior than you! That I might be the special one, and that Firestar might start taking notice of me instead of you!”

“Don’t be a mouse-brain! You’re my sister.” But Dovepaw found herself yowling at empty air. Ivypaw had turned and bounded into the bracken. Suddenly alone in the frozen forest, Dovepaw started shivering.

Her sister was training in the Dark Forest! How could StarClan have let this happen?

Chapter 5

“I think we should just wait and watch.” Jayfeather turned up the slope, flinching from the cutting wind. “I’m going home.” The watery sun had not softened the frost, and the grass crunched beneath his paws.

Lionblaze remained beside the lake. Jayfeather paused, sensing his brother’s struggle to break free from the anxiety that had fixed him at the water’s edge. “Hunt for your Clanmates!” he called over his shoulder. “They’ll be hungry after the battle.”

The pebbles swished as Lionblaze bounded away, and Jayfeather darted over the crest of the slope into the shelter of the trees. As the musty scents of dying foliage touched his nose, memories of the Dark Forest flooded his mind. He couldn’t believe that Tigerstar had found a recruit in ThunderClan. Strange that it should be Ivypaw. Perhaps Dovepaw wasn’t the only one of the sisters with a destiny.

Jayfeather tried to focus on the familiar scents of ThunderClan territory—prey scuttling over frosty bark, birds calling in the branches above—but only sensed fear beating in every tiny heart as leaf-bare tightened its grip on the forest. It was the season of death, and by newleaf cold and hunger would have slain the weakest.

Shivering, he pushed the thought away and hurried down the brambly trail that led toward the hollow. Cold air pooled outside the thorn barrier, but as he pushed through and broke from the tunnel, he felt warmth wash his pelt. His Clanmates were busy.

“We can lift this branch and prop it up with a beech branch,” Leafpool called from the warriors’ den. “If we weave new walls around it, there’ll be room for at least three more nests.”

Jayfeather picked his way through the clutter of twigs piled anew for the warriors’ den.

“Watch out,” Millie warned as he neared the fresh-kill pile. “Birchfall’s digging a hole to preserve prey.” When the earth froze, prey could be kept fresh for days by burying it.

Jayfeather lingered at the edge of the prey-hole. “Do you think this weather’s going to last?” he asked Millie.

“I’m not sure, but it’s best to be safe,” she replied. “We need to preserve as much as we can.”

“Jayfeather!” Bumblestripe yowled from the medicine den.

Jayfeather jerked his head up and felt anxiety flash from Millie. Was Briarlight worse? He raced for the cave, forcing his way through the trailing brambles that veiled the entrance.

Bumblestripe was standing in the middle of the den, his fur scented with bark and damp green leaves. “Look what we’ve brought you,” he announced cheerfully.

Beneath the forest smells, Jayfeather picked up the dusty scent of cobwebs. “I thought something was wrong!”

Millie ran into the den. “Is Briarlight okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Brightheart padded forward. “Bumblestripe found great clumps of web behind the ivy on the Great Oak.” The one-eyed warrior sounded proud. “He had to climb a long way up to reach it.”

Briarlight fidgeted in her nest. “Isn’t he brave?”

Jayfeather sniffed Brightheart’s pelt, alert for the sour scent of infection. “How are your wounds?”

“A bit sore,” she admitted. “But they were hardly more than scratches. They’ll heal.”

“Make sure you don’t reopen any of the cuts,” Jayfeather warned. “Is your torn ear hurting?” he asked Bumblestripe.

“Stings a bit, but in this weather, everyone’s ear tips are stinging.”

Jayfeather stopped beside Briarlight’s nest and bent to listen to the young cat’s breathing. The roughness had eased. “Make sure you do some exercise today,” he ordered.

“She’s already been to the fresh-kill pile,” Bumblestripe announced.

“Do you want to check these cobwebs?” Brightheart asked Jayfeather. “They’re good and thick.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Jayfeather wished his Clanmates’ enthusiasm could brighten his mood. “Brightheart,” he mewed, “would you take moss to the nursery, please? The kits will need fresh bedding.” He felt her stiffen with surprise. “I know it’s an apprentice duty,” he went on apologetically, “but our two apprentices are out training.”

“Of course.” Brightheart headed for the entrance. “I’ll take Bumblestripe with me. After finding cobwebs, he’ll have no trouble sniffing out some moss.”

As they left, Jayfeather turned to Millie. “Birchfall will probably need help with the prey-hole.”

“Are you sure Briarlight’s okay?” Millie pressed.

“She’s better every day.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon to make her do her exercises?” Millie’s tail swished over Briarlight’s flank. “She looks so tired.”

Jayfeather let out a breath slowly. “I’m not making her do more than she can manage.”

“It stops me from getting bored,” Briarlight put in.

Jayfeather sensed uncertainty lingering around Millie. “Go back to work,” he murmured. “Worrying won’t help.”

As the warrior pushed her way out of the den, Briarlight’s nest rustled. “You could have thanked Brightheart and Bumblestripe for the cobwebs,” she scolded him. “They found enough to keep you going till greenleaf.”

The brambles rustled at the den entrance before Jayfeather could reply.

“Jayfeather!” Dovepaw’s fraught mew jangled the air.

Briarlight twitched in her nest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Jayfeather told his patient quickly, knowing exactly what was troubling the young apprentice. “Follow me.” He nudged her out of the den. “I need to check on Firestar. His wounds may need re-dressing.”

“I know about Ivypaw,” Dovepaw hissed as soon as they were clear of the brambles. “She’s training with the Dark Forest warriors.”

“Keep your voice down!” Jayfeather spat.

“But we have to do something!”

Jayfeather winced as a stray beech twig jabbed his foreleg. “Like what? Order her not to go? Do you think she’ll listen?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Fear edged Dovepaw’s mew.

Jayfeather steered her to the side of the clearing. “Look,” he breathed. “She’s made her choice. Perhaps we should just keep an eye on her and see what she does. We might be able to learn something about our enemy.”

“Ivypaw’s not our enemy!” Dovepaw sounded desperate. “She’s my littermate. I can’t let this happen to her. StarClan knows what Tigerstar will do to her!”

“I’m not going to stand here and discuss this with you,” Jayfeather growled, then turned as the thorn barrier rustled. Mousewhisker, Toadstep, and Rosepetal were pushing their way through, warming the air with the scent of fresh prey. “Not here. Not now.” He began to pad toward the warriors’ den. “Go help your Clanmates. There’s plenty to do.”

He left Dovepaw standing in a haze of bewildered fear and headed for Highledge. I’ll talk to her later, he told himself. When we have a chance to go into the forest, away from pricked ears and curious eyes.

From the scents drifting from the fresh-kill pile, Mousewhisker’s patrol had brought back thrush, vole, and pigeon.

“We’re going to have to dig this prey-hole deeper,” Millie meowed.

“Not till I’ve had something to eat.” Soil crumbled as Birchfall hopped out of the hole.

“Mousewhisker!” Cherrykit’s mew sounded from the entrance. “You left this behind!”

Jayfeather heard fur brush the earth by the barrier of thorns. Cherrykit and Molekit were dragging something heavy into the hollow.

“A squirrel!” Birchfall licked his lips and bounded toward the pair of kits. “Did you catch it yourselves?” he teased.

“We found it outside,” Molekit explained. “Mousewhisker’s patrol must have dropped it.”

“We didn’t catch a squirrel.” Mousewhisker’s puzzled mew rang from the fresh-kill pile.

Poppyfrost came hurrying from the dirtplace tunnel. “What were you two doing outside camp?” she scolded. “And in weather like this!”

“We’re going to need two prey-holes at this rate,” Millie commented as Birchfall carried the squirrel across the clearing.

As Jayfeather climbed the rocks to Highledge, Sandstorm poked her head out of Firestar’s den.

“How is he?” Jayfeather asked, reaching the top.

“Tired, and complaining about staying in his nest.”

Jayfeather squeezed past her into the small cave. The ThunderClan leader yawned and sat up. The wound at his throat smelled clean and dry.

“Does it hurt?” Jayfeather touched the gash gently with his nose tip, feeling for warmth and swelling. The fur was stiff with dried blood, but the flesh beneath felt healthy and soft.

Firestar pulled away. “I’ll let you know if it does.” He shook out his sleep-flattened fur. “Is Brambleclaw back?”

Sandstorm answered. “Not yet.”

“I hope the border marking went well,” Firestar growled. “I want ShadowClan to know for sure what is now ours.”

Jayfeather’s tail twitched. He thinks we were just two Clans fighting over a piece of territory.

“Jayfeather?” Firestar sounded tense. “Is there something you want to say?”

Should I tell him about Ivypaw? That the cat who persuaded him to fight for the Twoleg clearing is being trained by Dark Forest warriors? Surely the ThunderClan leader should be warned that dreams and signs no longer came only from StarClan?

No. We can manage this alone.

“They’re back!” Sandstorm turned quickly and slipped out of the cave. “Brambleclaw and Dustpelt!”

The rocks clattered as she bounded down to the clearing. Squeezing past Jayfeather, Firestar followed. Jayfeather listened from Highledge as Brambleclaw, Dustpelt, and their patrols halted below him. He could smell the scents of frost and forest rising from their pelts, and the faint tang of ShadowClan lingering on their paws.

“Are the markers set?” Firestar asked his deputy.

“Ours are,” Brambleclaw answered.

Dustpelt stepped forward. “ShadowClan hasn’t set their scent line yet.”

Millie trotted over from the prey-hole. “They’re refusing to acknowledge the new border!” she declared indignantly.

“They have to acknowledge it!” Leafpool had left her work on the warriors’ den to listen in.

“They don’t have to do anything,” Birchfall pointed out.

Millie’s pelt sparked with anger. “But they lost the battle.”

Jayfeather recognized the slow, solid step of Purdy as the loner padded from the elders’ den. “Are you sure they know they lost?”

“Well, of course they do!” Mousefur jostled past her denmate. “Lionblaze killed their deputy.”

No cat spoke, but paws shifted and tails brushed the earth until Firestar stepped forward. “We regret the loss of Russetfur,” he meowed heavily.

Where’s Lionblaze? Jayfeather’s paws pricked. He should be here to defend himself.

“Lionblaze should have been more careful,” Brambleclaw muttered.

Jayfeather swallowed back his rage. Lionblaze must face the charge himself. If Jayfeather answered for him, it would look as though Lionblaze were hiding from what he’d done. He heard fur snagging on thorns as the barrier moved.

Ivypaw.

She slipped into camp and wove among her Clanmates. “What’s going on?”

Jayfeather’s pelt grew cold. Light pierced his blind blue eyes, and he could suddenly see Ivypaw, clear as in a dream, her silver pelt bright against the frost-whitened clearing. Foreboding gripped his heart as the vision unfolded. Shadows slid over the top of the hollow, engulfing the dens, swallowing ThunderClan’s warriors. Dark Forest cats swarmed down the cliffs, slithering like lizards over the stone. Their eyes shone red, and their teeth and claws glinted like crystal, flashing in the shadows as they crowded the hollow.

With a roar of fury, ThunderClan rose to meet them. Graystripe slashed at a brown-pelted tom, who lunged for his throat and flung the gray warrior flailing to his death. Millie screeched and fell on her mate’s murderer, but two warriors ripped the fur from her back and dragged her wailing into the darkness.

ThunderClan was outnumbered and overwhelmed.

Birchfall, shrieking in agony and rage, was slaughtered by merciless claws. Dustpelt sank, his throat ripped by savage fangs. One by one, ThunderClan’s warriors fell until the clearing was heaped with bodies. Blood spilled from their mouths, pooled on the ground, and spread a grim shadow over the earth. It oozed from the dens, flooded from the walls of the hollow, and dripped from the thorns of the nursery until the whole camp shone crimson.

Only Ivypaw remained unstained.

Dark Forest warriors swirled around her, triumph lighting their eyes. Ivypaw stood as still as stone, pooled in moonlight, unhurt, unafraid. Jayfeather’s heart seemed to stop as she raised her muzzle and stared directly at him, her eyes black as night, her gaze blank.

A hiss of horror sounded beside Jayfeather, and he turned, fur on end.

Spottedleaf crouched beside him, her expression dark with despair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t change anything.”

Chapter 6

Flametail’s paws slid over the frozen pine needles as he raced for camp. He unsheathed his claws to get a better grip and thought again of Lionblaze. Puffing out his chest as though StarClan likes him best. Typical ThunderClan.

A blackbird shrilled from high in the pines as Toadfoot sprang into Flametail’s path.

Flametail skidded to a halt. “Watch out!”

“Just checking your reflexes,” Toadfoot teased, hopping out of the way.

“Check this!” Flametail lunged and rolled his Clanmate to the ground.

Toadfoot struggled free and leaped to his paws, purring. “I bet none of the other Clans have a medicine cat who fights like a warrior.” He shook out his dark brown fur. “Where’ve you been?”

“At the new border.”

Toadfoot snorted. “Have they marked it yet?”

“Brambleclaw was setting a scent line when I left.”

“ThunderClan cats have smaller brains than I thought if they believe we’re going to let them keep that land.”

Flametail snorted in agreement. “They must know the battle isn’t over yet.”

Fur brushed the ground nearby. Flametail jerked his head around, wrinkling his nose as he smelled death.

Toadfoot followed his gaze. “They’re burying Russetfur.”

“Let’s join them.”

Flametail led the way to where Rowanclaw and Rat-scar were dragging the old ShadowClan deputy’s stiff body through the sun-striped pines. Rowanclaw was Flametail’s father, made deputy only last night.

Pelts flashed among the pines as the Clan filed from the camp to gather around the grave.

“We will miss her wisdom.” Tallpoppy’s eyes glistened as she took her place alongside the other elders. Cedarheart and Whitewater shuffled to make room for her.

Snaketail held his gray-flecked chin high as Russetfur was dragged toward her resting place. “Many hard-won skills and memories have died with our Clanmate,” he rasped.

Ratscar and Rowanclaw halted at the grave’s edge and laid Russetfur beside it. Flametail could smell the pine sap he’d rubbed over her pelt as he’d helped Littlecloud prepare the old ShadowClan deputy for vigil.

“A hard farewell,” Owlclaw murmured.

Shrewfoot leaned against her denmate. “Was there ever an easy one?”

Blackstar padded to Russetfur’s side. “She died fighting. She died bravely.” He addressed his Clanmates. “We ask no more than that of our warriors.”

Cedarheart’s eyes shone. “She was my mentor and taught me well.”

Rowanclaw dipped his head. “She came to ShadowClan a rogue and died a warrior.”

Blackstar gazed at the sun as it struggled above the pine-tops. “StarClan will welcome her. What we have lost, they will gain. May her memories become our memories, and her skills become our skills.” He nodded to Rowanclaw, and the orange warrior gripped Russetfur’s scruff in his teeth. Silently, he hauled her body over the grave’s edge and let it fall.

Blackstar turned, eyes glittering darkly, and led his Clanmates away. Flametail caught up to his father at the camp entrance. “Where’s Littlecloud?”

“He’s exhausted after a night treating battle wounds. Blackstar ordered him to rest. He’ll share tongues with Russetfur at the Moonpool. He can say his good-byes then.” Rowanclaw glanced at his son. “You must be tired, too. You were at his side till dawn.”

Flametail was weary to his paws but not ready to admit it. “I can rest later,” he insisted. “I just wanted to see the battlefield.”

“Good.” Rowanclaw nodded. “The land we lost should burn in your mind until it is regained.” He touched his muzzle to Flametail’s head before squeezing through the entrance tunnel. Flametail emerged from the bramble thicket in time to see his father disappear with Blackstar into the leader’s den.

“Sorry to bother you.” Shrewfoot was blinking at him. The gray she-cat thrust a black paw under his muzzle. “Will you check this?” she mewed. “Littlecloud’s sleeping.”

Flametail inspected the paw. It was swollen at the lowest joint, and her fur was warm to the touch, but she only winced when he touched it with his nose.

“Just a sprain,” he assured her. “I’ll give you a poppy seed for the pain.” He led her through the prickly entrance to the medicine den. It opened into a space deep within the bush. Inside, the sandy floor had been hollowed to make the den roomier, and dried-out pine needles scattered to make it soft.

At the back of the den, Littlecloud stretched and sat up in his nest. The neat tabby tom looked smaller than usual, his eyes wide and his pelt ruffled with sleep.

Flametail frowned. “Are you okay?” He crossed the den and sniffed his mentor’s pelt. There was more heat in Littlecloud’s fur than he’d expected.

“I’m fine,” Littlecloud insisted. “Just tired.”

“Stay in your nest,” Flametail told him.

Littlecloud didn’t argue, but instead glanced at Shrewfoot waiting by the entrance. “Is she all right?”

“A sprained paw,” Flametail reported. “I’m going to give her poppy.”

Littlecloud shook his head. “Just wrap it with comfrey and nettle.” He nodded toward a pile of shredded leaves. “Shrewfoot has always slept a little too heavily on poppy.”

“Can you manage the pain if I just ease the swelling?” Flametail asked the she-cat.

She nodded, lifting her paw. Flametail chewed the shredded leaves into a poultice and wrapped up the paw, tying a dock leaf around it to hold the balm in place.

Shrewfoot sighed as he finished. “It feels better already.”

“Rest it for a day, then exercise it gently,” Flametail advised.

Shrewfoot nodded and slid out through the bramble tunnel. Flametail turned to tell Littlecloud he was leaving, but the ShadowClan medicine cat was already asleep. Flametail’s paws felt heavy, and he fought back an urge to curl up in his nest. There were wounds to check.

Nosing his way out of the den, he squinted at the light that bounced around the wide, flat clearing in the forest of pines. Several of his Clanmates were sprawled at the edge, soaking up the meager warmth from the leaf-bare sun. Snowbird rolled and stretched. Her white belly was laced with crimson wounds that made Flametail wince, even though he knew they were all clean now and soaked with marigold juice. Beside her, Scorchfur rested his nose on his paws, ignoring the half-eaten thrush lying by his muzzle. Redwillow lay at the entrance to the warriors’ den, clumps of mottled brown fur sticking out on his pelt. He twisted to give his flank a lick, but flinched and lay back again, panting. Olivenose and Owlclaw stretched side by side, pelts ruffled, muzzles scratched.

The bramble wall shuddered as Tigerheart bounded through the entrance. A squirrel dangled from his jaws, and he tossed it toward the fresh-kill pile. Dawnpelt raced in after him, a pigeon in her jaws.

Flametail hurried toward his littermates, sniffing for blood. “I hope you haven’t opened any wounds.”

“We’ve been careful.” Dawnpelt ducked down to show him that the gash between her shoulder blades was still sealed with sticky cobwebs, no sign of fresh blood.

Tawnypelt squeezed out of the warriors’ den. The tortoiseshell’s green eyes lit up as she saw her three kits together, and she greeted each with a lick on the cheek.

Dawnpelt shook her off. “Yuck! We’re too old for that!”

Tawnypelt purred and gazed around the clearing. “Where’s your father?”

“With Blackstar.” Flametail wove around his littermates. “I guess he’ll be there a lot now that he’s deputy.”

Tigerheart flexed his claws. “I can’t wait till he’s leader.”

“Hush!” Dawnpelt nudged him.

Tigerheart shrugged. “Well, it’s true. Blackstar can’t live forever.”

Tawnypelt brushed her tail across her son’s mouth. “Don’t say such things!”

“At least we always know what Tigerheart is thinking.” Flametail flicked his tail at his brother’s shoulder.

Tigerheart stuck his nose in the air. “I bet you don’t know what I’m thinking now.”

Dawnpelt’s whiskers twitched. “No, but I bet it won’t be long before you blurt it out.”

Tigerheart dropped into an attack crouch, eyes twinkling.

Dawnpelt pretended to look scared. “Help!” she squeaked, darting behind her mother.

“Stop it, you two,” Tawnypelt chided. “The Clan is still mourning Russetfur.”

On the far side of the clearing, Flametail saw that Rowanclaw had emerged from Blackstar’s den and was heading toward his family. Tigerheart and Dawnpelt were too busy chasing each other around Tawnypelt to notice his approach.

Tigerheart rolled Dawnpelt to the ground. “One day I’ll be deputy, and then you won’t be allowed to tease me.”

“No, you won’t!” Dawnpelt struggled from his grip. “I’ll be deputy!”

Rowanclaw halted beside his wrestling kits. “Do I have rivals already?” he inquired.

Tigerheart and Dawnpelt leaped to their paws.

“We were just playing,” Dawnpelt mewed quickly.

“I’m glad to have such ambitious kits,” Rowanclaw purred. “But I’d like to be deputy for a moon or two before you take over.” He glanced at Flametail. “Do you want to be deputy, too?”

“I’m happy to be a medicine cat,” Flametail replied.

Rowanclaw’s eyes glowed. “That’s a relief. I don’t think I could take on all three of you.”

Tawnypelt rubbed her muzzle along Rowanclaw’s cheek. “I’m very proud of you all.” Her gaze wandered to Blackstar’s den.

The ShadowClan leader had appeared in the entrance. His eyes were shining; his pelt was sleek and freshly groomed. “Warriors and apprentices!” Blackstar called as he stepped into the clearing. “You have had time enough to recover your strength! Gather around! There are lessons to be learned from yesterday’s defeat.

“You fought hard,” Blackstar continued. “But we lost territory. If we are ever to regain it, we must learn from our mistakes. This defeat is a chance for us to grow stronger.”

Give me a chance to heal everyone before you start planning the next battle. Flametail tasted the air. He could smell sourness. The wounds he and Littlecloud had dressed last night were going to need new poultices before infection set in. He glimpsed Ivytail wriggling out of the nursery. Her belly was beginning to swell with her first litter. It would be a while before she was fighting battles again. Perhaps she could help him.

“Ivytail!” He approached the long-furred queen and whispered to her while Blackstar continued his speech. “Will you help me re-dress some wounds?”

Ivytail blinked. “Of course.”

In the medicine den, Littlecloud slept as Ivytail and Flame-tail gathered herbs and slipped back out into the clearing.

Ratscar was pacing back and forth, his brown pelt gleaming in flashes of sunlight falling through the trees. “How in the name of StarClan can we fight cats who swoop from trees like owls?” he demanded.

Flametail dropped a bundle of herbs beside Olivenose. “Your wounds need fresh herbs.” Flametail sniffed at the scratches on her flank. “Listen to Ratscar while I fix them.” He beckoned Ivytail closer. “Watch what I do.” He began to lick the dried ointment from the scratches on Olivenose’s flank. Olivenose dug her claws into the ground and concentrated on the debate.

Smokefoot had stepped forward. “Perhaps we can turn what they think is a strength into a weakness?”

Blackstar nodded, eyes like slits. “How?”

“They land heavily,” Smokefoot ventured. “It takes a moment for them to regain their balance. We can use that hesitation to make the first move.”

Applefur tipped her mottled brown head to one side. “Next time we’ll be prepared for their owl tactics. All we have to do is look up. It should be easy to get out of the way while they jump.”

Crowfrost’s eyes grew round with excitement. “It takes time to climb trees and jump. ThunderClan warriors seem to have forgotten that they’re cats, not birds.”

Snowbird nodded. “While they’re wasting time and energy climbing, we can be preparing to pounce on them when they land.”

Dawnpelt joined in. “It’ll be easy to defeat them now that we know what they’re doing!” She glanced up at a hazel branch stretching over the camp. “Let’s practice!”

Tigerheart was already running toward the trunk of the hazel, which was lodged among dense brambles at the edge of the clearing. He scrambled up it and picked his way carefully along the branch. Dawnpelt watched him, shifting her weight from paw to paw, her tail snaking over the ground.

Tigerheart dropped.

Dawnpelt leaped on him as he hit the ground. She rolled him over easily and flattened him against the cold earth.

Blackstar’s eyes brightened. “ThunderClan cats think they’re clever, but they’re pigeon-brained,” he growled.

Owlclaw padded forward. “We weren’t just weak in the forest fighting,” he reminded his leader. “In the clearing, they split our line in two.”

“Perhaps we should arrange our line differently?” Rowanclaw suggested. “Older, more experienced warriors must fight beside younger, less skillful cats. Then, even if they break our line into pieces, each part will be strong.”

“Good thinking, Rowanclaw,” Blackstar praised his new deputy. “Before our next battle, we will pair our warriors: Skilled and less-skilled will fight side by side.”

Flametail felt a rush of pride for his Clanmates. To ShadowClan, defeat meant a chance to come back better, stronger, swifter in the next battle. There was no self-pity, no blame, just the certainty that next time things would be different.

Crowfrost had gotten to his paws. “We could keep a reserve of our strongest warriors,” he suggested. “Then when our enemy thinks they’re winning, we can send a new wave to crush them.”

“Good thinking.” Rowanclaw nodded slowly. “Strategy is all very well, but we mustn’t forget that fighting skills are what win the battle in the end.” He turned to Pinepaw. “You were knocked aside by Hazeltail,” he reminded the young cat.

“She’s bigger than me, and she took me by surprise,” Pinepaw mewed indignantly. “Besides, I was fighting Thornclaw, not Hazeltail.”

“True,” Rowanclaw admitted. “But I think you could have parried her attack more effectively.”

“How?” Pinepaw cocked her head, eyes sparking with interest.

“Come here.” Rowanclaw signaled to Oakfur and Ferretpaw to join them in the center of the clearing.

Flametail watched his Clanmates with one eye as he turned to Scorchfur and began smearing fresh ointment on his scratches. Oakfur was still limping, but his pelt was ruffled with excitement.

“Ferretpaw.” Rowanclaw nudged the cream-and-gray tom into position. “You be Thornclaw.”

Ferretpaw fluffed out his fur.

“Oakfur, you be Hazeltail.”

Oakfur nodded and crouched, ready to attack.

Rowanclaw nodded to Pinepaw. “Attack Ferretpaw, just like you attacked Thornclaw yesterday. But when Oakfur lunges for you, let yourself roll with him, so the weight of his leap becomes a weight he must carry, not you.”

Pinepaw frowned for a moment, then turned and leaped at Ferretpaw. As Ferretpaw wrestled beneath his denmate, Oakfur lunged, hooking his paws around Pinepaw and plucking her off Ferretpaw. Pinepaw went limp, and Oakfur stumbled at the sudden dead weight in his grip. As Oakfur staggered, Pinepaw twisted around, nipped Oakfur’s neck, and escaped from his grip. Oakfur quickly found his paws, but the apprentice was already on his back, churning her hind legs and sinking her teeth into the warrior’s scruff.

“Excellent!” Blackstar stepped forward. “We have learned a valuable skill here.”

“Great move, Pinepaw!” Ratscar called.

Pinepaw nodded to her mentor, her black fur ruffled with pride, as murmurs of approval rippled through her Clan.

Flametail licked the last of the ointment into Scorchfur’s wound. “How does that feel?”

“Better,” answered the gray tom.

Blackstar cast a glance at the fresh-kill pile. “Rowanclaw,” he called to his deputy. “Organize hunting patrols, please.”

Rowanclaw flexed his claws. “What about marking the new border?”

Blackstar bristled. “Not while there is a trace of warmth in Russetfur’s body.” His eyes clouded. “Firestar chose a dark path when he asked for that land back. Would a true warrior give a gift, then kill to take it back?”

“Snake-tongue!”

“Fox-heart!”

Insults were spat into the chilly air from all around the camp.

Blackstar signaled for silence with a flick of his tail. “Flame-tail!”

Flametail jerked his head up in surprise.

“Come to my den and bring Littlecloud. I wish to speak with my medicine cats.” The ShadowClan leader turned to Rowanclaw. “Organize the hunting patrols,” he repeated. “But stay away from the Twoleg clearing. I don’t want any fighting until our warriors are fully healed.”

Flametail hurried to the medicine den and nudged Littlecloud awake. The medicine cat still felt unnaturally warm.

He woke groggily. “What is it?” he mumbled

“Blackstar wants to talk to us in his den.”

Littlecloud was out of his nest in a moment and hurrying to the entrance. Flametail was relieved to see that the old cat was steady on his paws. He caught up with him outside Blackstar’s den, pausing to let Littlecloud in first. Ducking under the low bramble arch, he followed.

Blackstar’s eyes glinted in the gloom. “Did StarClan give you any warning about the battle?”

Flametail shook his head and glanced at Littlecloud.

“Nothing.” There was a rasp in the medicine cat’s mew, and Flametail was suddenly aware that his mentor was wheezing.

Blackstar was frowning. “No warning at all?”

Both cats shook their heads.

“I would have thought StarClan valued Russetfur more,” the leader muttered.

“Perhaps they didn’t know,” Flametail suggested. “Or it may be that her death was unavoidable.”

Blackstar flattened his ears. “Nothing is unavoidable!” he growled. He turned to Littlecloud. “Share tongues with StarClan. Find out why this has happened. I want to know if ThunderClan is planning something else. They might be planning to reach farther into the heart of ShadowClan territory. This battle may only be the start. They are at our tree line already, and that is too close to our camp.”

Littlecloud blinked at him. “ThunderClan hasn’t stolen territory since before the Great Journey.”

Flametail shifted his paws, uncomfortable hearing his mentor defend another Clan. This wasn’t the first time Littlecloud had treated ThunderClan as friends rather than rivals.

The old medicine cat went on. “I thought Firestar’s leadership had put an end to their greed.”

“But not to their arrogance,” Blackstar growled. “They have always tried to tell the other Clans what to do. Perhaps they feel as if they’ve been wasting their words and now is the time for action.” He flexed his long claws. “Go to the Moonpool. Speak with StarClan. Find out what you can.”

Littlecloud’s flanks shuddered as he dipped his head.

“I’ll go,” Flametail blurted out. Littlecloud was in no condition to spend a night in the open, and in such bitter weather.

Blackstar glanced at Littlecloud. The medicine cat’s eyes were growing milky, and there was a tremor in his tail. If the ShadowClan leader was shocked that his senior medicine cat was sick, he hid it. “Very well.”

Flametail followed Littlecloud from the den. Outside, Littlecloud’s tail trembled harder. “Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be happy to know you are warm and resting. You’ve got to take it easy, Littlecloud. Ivytail can help with the simple stuff.”

Littlecloud opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but it turned into a cough. “Thanks,” he spluttered.

Flametail dipped his head, uneasy that Littlecloud had given in so easily. The old medicine cat must be feeling really ill.

“Take care.” Littlecloud headed back to his den.

“What did Blackstar want?” Ivytail trotted toward Flame-tail, her belly swaying.

“I’m going to consult with StarClan at the Moonpool,” Flametail told her as his mentor disappeared into the brambles. “Will you keep an eye on Littlecloud? He’s not well. He needs to rest.”

“I’ll make sure he does.” Ivytail dipped her head. “And I’ll keep an eye on everyone’s wounds till you get back.”

“You remember what to do?”

“If they smell sour, lick out the old ointment and chew up some fresh herbs.”

Flametail nodded. “Littlecloud will be able to tell you which leaves to use from the store. I’ll be back by sunhigh tomorrow.”

“Take care,” Ivytail mewed.

Flametail ducked through the entrance tunnel, blinking against the shock of cold air outside the camp. He broke into a run, heading along an old badger path that ran down to the lake. His paws sent up showers of needles; his breath billowed at his muzzle.

As he raced down the slope, the lake glinted through the silver-gray trunks. He emerged from the forest at a sprint, squinting against the sun flashing on the waves. Stones clattered as he leaped onto the shore, and he swerved to run along the water’s edge. His muscles felt lean and strong beneath his pelt. Blood pulsed in his ears as his heart quickened.

ShadowClan wasn’t going to be bullied by ThunderClan. ShadowClan wasn’t a Clan that could be pushed around. Their arrogant neighbors needed to be taught a lesson, and ShadowClan would make sure they learned it.

Chapter 7

“What’s going on?”

Ivypaw had limped back to the hollow, her foot sore from her training with Hawkfrost the night before. She was still ruffled by her argument with Dovepaw.

How dare she judge me!

As she’d padded through the tunnel, she’d tensed, trying to disguise her sprained paw. But no one had noticed her slip into the clearing. Her Clanmates were gathered around Firestar, their pelts ruffled.

“What’s going on?” she repeated.

Then she noticed Jayfeather staring down at her from Highledge as though she’d grown wings. A shiver iced her spine as his gaze locked with hers. Could he see her? He knows I’m training in the Dark Forest. She pushed away the worry. Once he sees me becoming a better warrior for my Clan, he’ll understand why!

Blossomfall’s mew stirred her ear fur. “ShadowClan hasn’t marked the new border.”

Ivypaw turned, sagging with relief. “Is that all? I thought there’d been another omen from StarClan.” She glanced back up at Jayfeather, but his thorn-sharp stare had relaxed into its usual blind blue gaze.

“Is that all?” Blossomfall was blinking at her. “It means ShadowClan hasn’t recognized that the territory now belongs to us. That’s pretty serious.”

Ivypaw shifted her paw, wincing as pain shot up her leg. “Well, yes. But as long as they don’t cross our markings . . .”

“They’d better not,” Blossomfall muttered as she headed toward the warriors’ den, which was misshapen by a half-woven bulge at one side. “Are you coming to help finish the den?”

Dovepaw was already there, working with Leafpool to bend one branch beneath another.

“Later,” Ivypaw called.

“Where have you been?” Cinderheart’s mew made her jump, and Ivypaw spun around. Was that suspicion in her mentor’s eyes? “Dovepaw’s been back for ages.”

“I wanted to practice my stalking till I got it right.” Ivypaw wasn’t going to admit she’d been sitting by the lake silently fuming. I’m as loyal as any ThunderClan warrior. More loyal! I’m the only one who trains to fight for my Clan even in my dreams.

“You must be hungry,” Cinderheart meowed. “Get something to eat. Then you can help Dovepaw and Leafpool with the warriors’ den.”

Ivypaw looked at her paws. “Isn’t there something else I can do?”

Cinderheart leaned forward. “Have you been quarreling with your sister again?” Her whiskers brushed Ivypaw’s cheek. “You shouldn’t be jealous of her, you know. You’re just as good at hunting and fighting as she is.”

Of course I am! I’ve been trained by the best!

“I was proud of you yesterday,” Cinderheart went on. “You fought like a warrior.”

“Thanks,” Ivypaw grunted. Hawkfrost hadn’t wasted time with flattery. He’d watched her fight in the battle, and when they’d met in the Dark Forest afterward, he’d shown her how she could fight better next time. So what if she’d sprained her paw; she’d learned so much!

“Get some fresh-kill.” Cinderheart nudged her toward the pile of prey. It smelled fragrant, and Ivypaw’s belly growled.

“Take what you want.” Birchfall was flinging the kill from the top of the pile into a shallow hole beside it. “What you don’t eat will get buried for later.”

Ivypaw plucked out a fat shrew and gulped it down. As she licked her lips, she noticed Leafpool heading toward her with Foxleap.

“Cinderheart said you’d help finish the new section of the den,” Leafpool meowed.

Foxleap could hardly keep his paws still. “It’s going to be great once we’ve finished,” he mewed. “There’ll be room for Blossomfall and Bumblestripe.”

“Okay, I’ll help,” Ivypaw sighed. She couldn’t avoid her sister forever. Twigs were heaped beside the fresh-kill pile, and she grabbed a bunch in her jaws.

“I’ll help too!” Rosepetal bounded across the clearing.

“I’m just fixing that patch.” Foxleap nodded toward a gap in the den wall where long stems of beech had already been bent and planted into the earth. “You can hardly tell it’s a fallen tree anymore.”

Rosepetal nodded. “It’s become part of the camp now.”

“Mind you, there’s hardly any hollow left,” Foxleap muttered, squeezing past a branch that was sticking out.

“There’s enough,” Rosepetal mewed. “And it’s much less drafty in camp now.”

Ivypaw dropped her mouthful of twigs beside Dovepaw. “Here you go.” Before Dovepaw could thank her, Ivypaw trotted around the bulging wall and began weaving twigs between the gaps.

“You’ve got nimble paws.” Blossomfall settled beside her and began to help. “Here.” She poked a long whip of willow through a hole in the branches. “You guide it, and I’ll pull.”

Ivypaw poked another twig into a gap in the wall. “Why isn’t any cat talking about the battle? It’s like they don’t remember it happened.”

“Why should they?” Blossomfall used her paws to squeeze the woven sticks tighter. “We won. What else should we be doing?”

“We should be learning how we could have fought better.”

Blossomfall stared at her. “But we won!”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll win next time,” Ivypaw pointed out. “And you can bet that ShadowClan warriors are training harder than ever to make sure that next time they win.”

“How do you know?”

Ivypaw looked away. “They’re ShadowClan.”

Blossomfall snorted. “Well, we’re ThunderClan, and leaf-bare is here, and there’s more to worry about than just fighting.”

Ivypaw sniffed. No wonder Hawkfrost doesn’t visit your dreams.

Ivypaw huffed wearily as she circled in her nest. She’d eaten fresh-kill with Blossomfall and had crept into her nest instead of washing, hoping she’d be asleep before Dovepaw followed her in. Now that Bumblestripe and Blossomfall had moved to the warriors’ den, it would be hard to ignore her only denmate.

Ivypaw shoved her nose under her paw and closed her eyes.

“Ivypaw?” Dovepaw nosed her way through the ferns and settled in her nest. “Ivypaw?”

Ivypaw slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep. It had been a long day, and not even the niggling ache in her heart could keep her awake. Soon sleep dragged her deeper into her nest and wrapped her in its warmth.

She opened her eyes into a dream. Mist swirled around her paws, and yowls rang in the cold, dead air. For the first time, her heart sank when she found herself in the Dark Forest. She wanted to sleep all night for once. Her scratches from the battle were stinging, and her paw hurt. Training day and night was exhausting. She closed her eyes, hoping the dream would fade, but the cold mist nipped harder at her paws.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes. A stretch of short, bare grass sloped ahead of her, and the sky above loomed black and starless. Ivypaw stretched, preparing herself for the training session. At least her Dark Forest Clanmates never compared her to Dovepaw.

Paws brushed the grass behind her, and she turned. A brown tom with a black ear—small, lithe, clearly from WindClan—approached. He halted and nodded a curt greeting. Ivypaw frowned, trying to remember who he was. She’d seen him at Gatherings. As she groped for the name, a voice beyond the crest of the slope called to him.

“Antpelt!”

Antpelt. That was it.

As the brown warrior raced toward the voice, Ivypaw reared up on her hind legs, trying to glimpse who had greeted him. Pain shot through her sprained paw. Before she could spot another cat in the shadows, she dropped, landing heavily, back onto all fours.

A mew behind her made her jump. “You look tired.”

“Hi, Tigerheart.” She was pleased to see a cat she instantly recognized. His thick tabby pelt rippled over his powerful frame, but his eyes looked weary. “You look tired too,” she sympathized.

“I wouldn’t mind one night’s rest.” He yawned.

“I guess they want to toughen us up.”

Tigerheart didn’t seem to hear her. “I don’t suppose Dovepaw came with you tonight, did she?”

Ivypaw bristled. “They chose me, not her!” Not waiting for a response, she charged up the slope toward the trees, following the trail of crushed grass Antpelt had left. Breaking through the tree line, she hurtled into the shadows, rage pulsing in her ears. So much for being free from her sister here!

Why did Tigerheart want to see Dovepaw anyway? Did he have a crush on her?

She snorted. He’s wasting his time. There was no way Dovepaw would have anything to do with a cat from another Clan. She liked hearing Lionblaze tell her how amazing she was too much to risk breaking the warrior code.

Growling, Ivypaw swerved among the trunks. She saw the matted orange-and-white pelt too late, and slammed into the side of a thick-furred she-cat. Recovering her balance, she turned on the warrior who’d blocked her way. “That was a dumb place to sit!” Ivypaw snarled, still seething.

Before Ivypaw could draw breath, the orange-and-white she-cat leaped on her. Ivypaw felt claws at her neck, and her breath shot from her chest as the warrior thumped her to the ground and pinned her there. Terror flooded Ivypaw as she struggled for air. She froze as the warrior leaned slowly closer.

With stinking breath and lips drawn back, the orange-and-white she-cat snarled, “Show some respect, apprentice.” She curled her claws until the thorn-sharp tips sank into Ivypaw’s skin. “You don’t want to die in a place like this. There’s nowhere beyond here, you know. Only darkness.”

A tabby pelt flashed at the edge of Ivypaw’s vision. “All right, Mapleshade.”

Ivypaw fell limp with relief as she recognized Hawkfrost’s meow.

“Let her go.” There was a menacing growl in his voice, and Mapleshade released her grip.

Ivypaw drew a long gulp of air and began to cough. Hacking, she scrambled to her paws, her belly brushing the earth as she crouched and tried to catch her breath. She was shaking from nose to tail.

“Pull yourself together,” Hawkfrost snapped.

Mapleshade flicked her tail. “Try to keep your visitors under control.” She turned and stalked away, muttering, “I preferred it here when it wasn’t overrun with wide-eyed idiots.”

Ivypaw blinked up at Hawkfrost. “Sorry.”

“Never mind Mapleshade,” he answered briskly. “She’s been here a long time. But not for much longer.”

Ivypaw glanced nervously at the departing warrior. The shadows seemed to be swallowing her, and Ivypaw realized with a start that the she-cat’s outline hung in the air like mist. She could clearly see the trees on the other side of Mapleshade, where she should only have been able to see the warrior’s sturdy body. Ivypaw shivered. “Do all cats fade away?”

“Eventually,” Hawkfrost growled. “If they survive long enough.”

He headed away through the trees. Ivypaw hesitated for a moment, her belly tight. She never wanted to fade away. She shook out her fur and bounded after Hawkfrost.

“Are you okay?” Hawkfrost was frowning at her hind paw as she caught up.

Ivypaw remembered the sprain. “Fine, thanks.”

Hawkfrost leaped a narrow gully in the forest floor. “If you’re not up to training, go home.”

Ivypaw jumped after him, gritting her teeth as her paw jarred on landing. “You should be glad I’m here. Jayfeather knows.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She hadn’t planned to tell, but she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer.

Hawkfrost turned his head. “Knows what?”

“That I come here,” Ivypaw confessed. “Dovepaw told me.”

“So she knows, too.” Hawkfrost paused and stared at Ivypaw. “And?”

What does he want me to say? Ivypaw shrugged. “And . . . nothing.”

Hawkfrost nodded and set off again.

“After all, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I?” Ivypaw hurried to catch up. “They should be grateful I’m doing extra training. ThunderClan warriors don’t seem to care about fighting. I spent all day building dens.”

Hawkfrost’s pelt brushed the smooth bark of a tree. “You’re not doing anything wrong at all,” he told her. “Don’t you think I’d warn you if you were?”

He led her into a clearing, where a gray-and-black rock jutted from the earth like the hunched back of an ancient badger. Cats circled the stone, and Ivypaw recognized Antpelt and Tigerheart. Tigerheart nodded a greeting, but Ivypaw ignored him. She was too busy looking for other cats she knew. She had never seen so many Clan cats in the Dark Forest before. She spotted the sleek, dark gray pelt of the RiverClan she-cat Minnowtail, and farther along, Breezepelt paced beneath a lightning-blasted pine tree.

Ivypaw halted beside a small white tom. She shivered when she saw the long scar that parted his belly fur and curled over his shoulder to the tip of his ear like a bulging pink snake.

Hawkfrost introduced them. “This is Snowtuft.”

Ivypaw nodded shyly, trying not to stare at his scar.

“That’s Shredtail, and that’s Sparrowfeather.” Hawkfrost flicked his tail toward two more Dark Forest warriors. Shredtail’s dark tabby pelt was crisscrossed with old wounds, and Sparrowfeather, a small mottled she-cat, had a muzzle that looked as though it had been savaged by a dog. Ivypaw curled her claws and lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to let her new Clanmates know how nervous she was feeling.

“Thistleclaw!”

Hawkfrost’s greeting made Ivypaw jump. She’d heard nursery tales about Thistleclaw. He’d been Tigerstar’s mentor, and some cats said it was Thistleclaw who’d first taught Firestar’s old enemy the meaning of cruelty. She jerked around to see a large tom pad slowly into the clearing. Uneven patches of gray mottled his white face. His white shoulders rippled with strength, and he lashed his long gray tail.

“Good evening, Hawkfrost.” His sharp green eyes flashed at his Dark Forest ally. “Not many with us tonight.”

“Only the best,” Hawkfrost replied.

Thistleclaw slowly circled the rock. Ivypaw held her breath. What kind of training session would this be? She lifted the weight from her aching paw, hoping it would hold out.

“You.” Thistleclaw nodded to Shredtail. “Get on the rock.”

Shredtail scrambled up quickly and stood on the broad, smooth stone.

Thistleclaw’s green gaze glittered. “I want you to work together,” he ordered. “You’ve got to knock him from the rock without letting him strike a blow to your heads.” He stared at Shredtail. “Do you understand?”

Shredtail nodded.

Thistleclaw stepped back. “Begin.”

Sparrowfeather leaped first. She was small, but she was strong, and she unbalanced Shredtail momentarily with a savage blow to his face. Ivypaw bristled. Blood was welling on the warrior’s cheek. Were they supposed to train with unsheathed claws? She crouched down and launched herself at Shredtail, but she was knocked aside by Antpelt, who was making his own attack.

“I said work together!” Thistleclaw yowled. He clouted Antpelt’s ear. Ivypaw felt something hot spatter against her neck, and smelled the salty tang of blood. She deliberately didn’t look at Antpelt, didn’t want to see how he had been punished for getting in her way. Instead she darted around the rock to where Tigerheart was standing on hind paws, batting at Shredtail and ducking to keep his head from being battered in return. Ivypaw reared up beside him and joined in.

Shredtail was becoming frantic as cats swiped at him from every side. Whipping one way and then another, he tried to reach them with carefully aimed blows. Ivypaw ducked as he hooked a paw toward her, then reared as he turned to defend his back. She sprang forward and knocked him with both paws, delight rushing through her as she felt him stagger.

Got you!

But Shredtail spun and faced her, a snarl twitching on his lips. Ivypaw jerked backward as Shredtail slashed at her eyes with outstretched claws. He missed, but he was close enough for Ivypaw to feel her eyelashes shiver.

Shock pulsed through her. He could have blinded me! As she dropped, trembling, onto four paws, Shredtail’s eyes suddenly widened in surprise, and he collapsed onto his belly as his hind legs were yanked out from under him. Ivypaw looked up to see Sparrowfeather hauling the young warrior from the rock, her teeth sunk deep into his flesh. Shredtail wailed in agony, his claws scraping over rock as he fought to cling on.

“No!” Thistleclaw roared, and swung a paw that knocked Sparrowfeather off her feet. With a yowl she crashed, sprawling onto the grass.

Ivypaw gasped. She’s not moving!

The gray-and-white warrior swung his head around, his gaze swooping over the trembling cats. “I told you to knock him off.” His voice was terrifyingly soft. “Not drag him.” He glanced at Sparrowfeather. The small brown cat twitched and lifted her head. “You cheated,” Thistleclaw hissed.

“Sorry.” Sparrowfeather’s mew was little more than a croak.

Thistleclaw circled her slowly, then jabbed her with a paw. “Get up,” he growled. “It’s your turn.” He watched as she dragged herself to her paws and began to haul herself up onto the rock.

“And this time, don’t cheat.”

Chapter 8

Flametail was bone tired.

Clumsily he hauled himself over the lip of the hollow and followed the dimpled rock path that curved down to the Moonpool. He hadn’t slept in two days, and he flopped like a defeated warrior beside the water, his paws frozen and raw.

The stone walls of the hollow glittered with ice. A sharp wind made the star-flecked pool shiver. Closing his eyes, Flametail rested his chin on his paws and let the tip of his nose touch the water. At once flames burst around him. The ice on the rock walls hissed and spat as the fire hit it.

Flametail shot to his paws, spinning in panic. A sheet of dazzling orange flames blocked the path that led up from the pool. He cringed away, heart pounding, ears flattened. StarClan, help me! Blindly, he raced for the pool.

“No, you fool!” A yowl made him halt.

He turned, squinting as he spotted a feline shape, dark against the wall of fire. “Who are you?” As the cat approached, Flametail could make out the gray tabby pelt of a tom. It wasn’t any cat that he knew, though his fur smelled faintly of ShadowClan pines.

“Stay away from the water,” the gray cat growled.

“Don’t be afraid. Palefoot only wants to help.” Now a she-cat shimmered into view. The flames threw flickering shadows over her snowy pelt. Flametail recognized Sagewhisker, the ancient ShadowClan medicine cat.

The StarClan warriors gazed at him calmly.

“Can’t you see the flames?” Flametail wailed.

“Look around you,” Sagewhisker murmured.

Flametail stared around the fiery hollow. And gasped.

Star-pelted cats lined the ledges and stone shelves of the hollow walls. Fire encircled them, making their fur shimmer, but not a flame touched them. Flametail tasted the air. Frost nipped his tongue. The air was cold. His pelt felt nothing but the icy night breeze. The fire was nothing more than a vision. It flamed silently around him, no more than cold light, illuminating the hollow.

Fear drained from him. Breathing deeply with relief, Flametail scanned the ranks of his ancestors and recognized Runningnose, Nightpelt, and Fernshade. With a rush of joy he saw Russetfur. She looked young and strong, as she must have before he’d been born, her dark red fur sleek, her tail curled neatly over her paws. The light of the flames reflected in her dark, steady gaze.

“Who do you see?” Sagewhisker prompted gently.

“Runningnose, Fernshade . . .” he began. Why is she asking? She can see for herself. “Russetfur, Crowtail . . .” He began to recognize more pelts. “Stonetooth, Foxheart . . .” All long-dead ShadowClan warriors he’d met beside the Moonpool. “Just our ancestors.” Why was Sagewhisker staring at him so intently?

“Anyone else?”

Flametail scanned the ranks again. “Hollyflower, Flintfang . . .” He frowned. “All our ancestors,” he repeated. His pelt pricked. There were only ShadowClan cats here. “Is ShadowClan going to die in a fire?” His heart leaped in his throat. “Is this your warning?”

Sagewhisker shook her head. “Our message isn’t that simple, I’m afraid.”

“Where is the rest of StarClan?” Flametail shifted his paws.

“They are with their own Clans.”

“But in death you are all one Clan.” Flametail tipped his head to one side, puzzled. “The borders between the Clans disappear.”

A dark pelt flashed through the flames as a large tabby tom jumped down onto the flattened stone. It was Raggedstar, the noble leader of ShadowClan many moons ago.

“There used to be no borders in StarClan.” His deep, rich mew rang around the hollow. “But times have changed.”

Flametail’s claws twitched within their sheaths. “What change? Why?”

“The battle with ThunderClan was unjust and unprovoked. But ThunderClan’s ancestors did nothing to stop it, and Russetfur died.” He nodded respectfully to the ShadowClan deputy.

“Something terrible is coming.” Sagewhisker snatched Flametail’s gaze from Raggedstar. Her eyes glittered. “No Clan can be trusted. Each must stand alone if it is to survive.”

Flametail’s fur bristled. “What’s coming?”

Sagewhisker leaned closer. “We cannot be dragged down by another Clan’s treachery.”

Fear tightened Flametail’s belly. “Can’t you tell me what’s going to happen?”

As Sagewhisker shook her head, Flametail turned to Raggedstar. “What is it?” he begged.

Raggedstar glanced desperately at Sagewhisker. “Why don’t we just tell him?”

Sagewhisker growled. “If he knew, who would he trust? Suspicion could paralyze the whole Clan.”

Raggedstar dropped his gaze to his huge front paws. “This is something far beyond our control,” he murmured.

“What can be beyond your control?” Flametail stepped forward. “You’re StarClan!”

“We guide you,” Sagewhisker meowed. “We advise you. But we cannot stop events that are bound to happen.”

“So what can you tell me?”

Raggedstar nodded toward the wall of flame. “You must burn as brightly as this fire to protect your Clan. Survival is more important than the code of the medicine cats. You must forget your allegiance to them and pledge yourself only to our Clan. From now on, ShadowClan has no allies. Remember this: A time of war is coming, and your warrior ancestors will stand alongside you. No one else.”

A time of war is coming. The fire began to fade, and with it the starry ancestors. You must burn as brightly as this fire to protect your Clan.

Flametail blinked open his eyes, shivering. He was lying beside the Moonpool, the hollow dark and silent except for the breeze whispering over the water. The scent of StarClan still wreathed around him.

I’ll remember, he promised silently. I’ll protect my Clan, whatever it takes.

Chapter 9

Dovepaw sprang awake, shivering. The fern walls rustled around her, and she tensed against the icy draft. Without Bumblestripe and Blossomfall the den was colder than ever. She pricked her ears. Ivypaw was whimpering in her sleep.

What’s wrong?

“Wake up!” Dovepaw jabbed Ivypaw with her paw. What if the Dark Forest warriors were hurting her?

Whitewing poked her head through the ferns. “Is everything okay in here?”

Dovepaw turned quickly, shielding Ivypaw from their mother’s view. “Ivypaw’s having a bad dream,” she mewed. “I was just trying to wake her up.”

Whitewing opened the fern wider with a snowy paw, letting dawn light seep through. “I thought I heard her whimper—”

“Really, she’s okay.” Dovepaw cut her off.

Whitewing shrugged. “If it’s just a dream, wake her up and come out. Brambleclaw’s organizing the hunting patrols.” She ducked out of the den, and the ferns swished closed.

Dovepaw rocked Ivypaw fiercely with two paws. “Wake up!”

“W-what?” Ivypaw blinked open her eyes.

Dovepaw saw that one of Ivypaw’s eyes was bruised and swollen around the socket. “You’re hurt!”

Ivypaw turned away, hiding her injury in shadow. “It’s nothing.”

“Did that happen in your dream?” Frustration clawed Dovepaw. “You were fighting in the Place of No Stars again, weren’t you?”

Ivypaw thrust her muzzle into Dovepaw’s face. “Shut up!”

“You mustn’t go there!” Dovepaw felt heat pulsing from Ivypaw’s swollen eye.

Ivypaw pushed past her. “Keep your whiskers out of my business.”

“Why can’t you see how dangerous it is?”

But Ivypaw had barged away through the ferns.

Help her, StarClan! Help her to see that she’s wrong. And protect her. Dovepaw closed her eyes. Please, StarClan. She steadied herself with a deep breath and nosed her way out of the den.

Hazeltail, Brackenfur, and Toadstep were crowded around Brambleclaw. Bumblestripe and Blossomfall jostled at their heels, and Cloudtail and Brightheart paced while Dustpelt, Sandstorm, and Thornclaw waited quietly.

The ThunderClan deputy’s ear tips were just visible. “Dustpelt!” he called. “Take Sandstorm and see if ShadowClan has marked the new border.” He turned to Cloudtail. “Take Blossomfall and Bumblestripe hunting.” He nodded to Brackenfur. “Go out with Hazeltail and Toadstep and see what you can catch. I want another prey-hole filled by sundown.”

Where’s Ivypaw? Dovepaw scanned the camp. There was no sign of her sister’s silver-and-white pelt, but she spotted Lionblaze at the far end of the clearing. The golden warrior was deep in conversation with Squirrelflight and Spiderleg, their heads almost touching as they murmured to one another. Curious, Dovepaw focused her hearing and listened.

“How big were the paw prints?” Lionblaze sounded worried.

“Big enough,” Spiderleg reported. “A vixen, by the smell of it.”

“She’s used the track more than once,” Squirrelflight added.

Lionblaze frowned. “So she’s not just passing through.”

Squirrelflight unsheathed her claws. “We’re going to have to track her down and chase her out.”

“It might be better to wait,” Lionblaze reasoned. “The forest is harsh in leaf-bare. She may go elsewhere. Foxes prefer crow-food to fresh-kill when the hunting gets hard.” He suddenly looked up and stared straight at Dovepaw. “Join Brackenfur’s patrol,” he called across the clearing.

Dovepaw shifted her paws, aware that he’d guessed she’d been eavesdropping. “What about training?”

“Training can wait.” Lionblaze turned back to Spiderleg.

Toadstep and Hazeltail were already filing through the thorn tunnel after Brackenfur. Dovepaw raced to catch up to them. “Lionblaze told me to join you,” she mewed to Brackenfur.

“Good.” Brackenfur tasted the air. “The more claws the better. Hunting will be hard today. It’s too cold to smell a thing.”

“And your pelt’s going to stand out like a fox in a snowdrift.” Hazeltail circled him, frosty leaves crackling beneath her gray-and-white paws.

Brackenfur snorted. “You’d better go in front then.”

Hazeltail led the way up the slope, her pale fur no more than a smudge in the frost-whitened undergrowth. Dovepaw tagged on at the end. She pricked her ears, listening for Ivypaw.

“Wait!” Hazeltail halted at the crest of the slope. She dropped into a hunting crouch, her gaze fixed on the ground ahead. A blackbird was hopping over the frozen leaves. Dovepaw held her breath, while Brackenfur and Toadstep stood like stone. Hazeltail began to waggle her haunches.

Crack!

A twig snapped underneath Dovepaw’s foot. The blackbird fluttered away in panic.

“Sorry!” Dovepaw shrank into her pelt.

Brackenfur shrugged. “Twigs are more brittle in the frost.”

“Perhaps it’d be better if we split up,” Hazeltail suggested.

Brackenfur tipped his head. “What do you think?” he asked Toadstep.

“Sounds good,” the black-and-white tom agreed. “At least if we come back with nothing, we’ll have no one to blame but ourselves.”

Brackenfur nodded. “Okay, let’s separate.” He glanced around the patrol. “Anyone mind if I take the shore?”

Dovepaw shook her head. She was quite happy to stay in the shelter of the trees. “I’ll head toward the stream,” she mewed.

Hazeltail was already following the crest of the slope. “See you back in camp, then,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’ll try the edge of the moor,” Toadstep meowed. “There might be a stray rabbit.”

Brackenfur brushed against Dovepaw as he passed. “Will you be all right on your own?”

Dovepaw nodded. “I can practice my stalking.”

The russet warrior disappeared over the crest of the slope. Dovepaw headed deeper into the forest. She listened, reaching far through the trees, searching out Ivypaw. Then she stopped. Ivypaw had already told her to keep her whiskers out of her business. And why spy on her when she was awake? It was when Ivypaw slept that she needed looking out for.

Dovepaw wove between the trees until she heard the ripple of water ahead. Dovepaw padded to the edge of the stream and leaned down to drink. Ice cracked beneath her paws. She hopped backward in surprise. The still, shallow water had begun to freeze at the shore. There was a narrow strip of sand on the far side where she could reach unfrozen water more easily. Dovepaw leaped the channel and took a long drink. Water dripping from her chin, she tasted the air. There was no warm scent of prey, only the soft promise of snow. Snow was coming. Dovepaw pricked her ears, unnerved by the silence.

The loud cackle of a starling echoed in the stillness.

Prey!

Excited, Dovepaw headed toward the sound, picking her way between the trees as silently as she could. The starling called again, closer now. Dovepaw unsheathed her claws and scanned the branches above. She would climb if she had to.

A rustle in the bracken behind her made her turn. A starling in bracken? Unusual. She plunged in, tail lashing excitedly.

“Hey!”

A yowl of surprise set her pelt on end. Dovepaw felt fur beneath her feet. This was no starling. Bristling, she wriggled backward out of the bracken. “Who is it?” she mewed, her voice croaking with fear. She tasted the air.

ShadowClan!

The sour stench shocked her, and she tensed, ready to fight. What was ShadowClan doing on ThunderClan territory? The bracken rustled again, and Tigerheart popped out.

Dovepaw stared at him in astonishment. He was on ThunderClan territory! “How dare you come here?” she challenged, ignoring the excitement fizzing beneath her pelt.

“How dare I?” Tigerheart’s eyes were round. “What are you doing on ShadowClan territory?”

“ShadowClan territory?” She frowned. “But this is ThunderClan.” She glanced quickly around. Pines mingled with oak and beech. She tasted the air. ThunderClan scents mixed with ShadowClan. Where was the border? She sniffed again.

There! The border was behind Tigerheart.

He spun around and stared at the line of scent-marked trees, as though he was just as surprised to find the border behind him. He turned back. “Sorry!” His amber gaze was wide with apology. “The cold seems to have killed every scent. All I can smell today is frost.”

Dovepaw purred. “I know what you mean! I haven’t had a whiff of prey all morning.”

Tigerheart looked relieved. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He glanced back at the border. “You’re not going to chase me off, are you?” A purr caught in his mew.

“Oh, no!” Dovepaw shook her head. “It was bad enough having to fight you in the battle.” His amber gaze swung back toward her, and she felt herself growing hot. “I mean, I know we were having a battle, and we’re supposed to fight . . .” The words got tangled on her tongue, and she found herself simply staring at him.

“Borders are more trouble than they’re worth,” Tigerheart muttered.

“What?” She could hardly believe she’d heard him right. But it was true. Without borders, they could meet whenever they wanted. The thought made her heart prick.

Tigerheart cleared his throat. “Of course, borders are borders.” He stopped, his expression growing soft.

“Even when you can’t smell them,” Dovepaw joked. Why did he have to look at her like that?

Paws thrummed on the ground behind her. “Patrol!” she warned.

Tigerheart’s ears were already pricked. “Get back to your side,” she told him. “I’ll steer them away.” Tigerheart hesitated. “Go on!” she urged.

The paw steps were getting closer. Tigerheart bounded toward the scent line. Then he halted. “I want to see you again!”

Dovepaw blinked. “What? When?”

“Here! Tonight. Okay?”

“O-okay.” Dovepaw could hardly believe she was agreeing. She turned on her hind paws and darted away.

Lionblaze, Spiderleg, and Squirrelflight were pounding toward her. Their bright pelts flashed between the trees. Dovepaw raced toward them, blocking their path.

“What are you doing?” Lionblaze slowed to a clumsy halt.

“Hunting,” she mewed innocently.

Squirrelflight and Spiderleg drew up beside her. Spiderleg sniffed at her. “What have you caught?”

“Nothing yet,” Dovepaw confessed.

“Where’s Brackenfur?” Lionblaze asked.

“Down by the shore,” Dovepaw told him. “We split up.”

Lionblaze kneaded the frostbitten leaves under his feet. “Well, with the prey gone to ground to escape this weather, I can’t see you’ll be much use wandering around here by yourself.” He sat back on his haunches and shook tiny specks of ice from his forepaws. “You might as well go back to camp and help patch up the warriors’ den.”

“Won’t Brackenfur be worried if I just disappear?” Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. She wanted to stay out in the forest and remember Tigerheart’s amber gaze.

“We’ll find him and let him know.” Lionblaze’s mew cut into her thoughts. “After we’ve tracked this fox.”

“Was it here?” Dovepaw peered around, suddenly nervous.

Squirrelflight looked puzzled. “Can’t you smell it?”

Dovepaw sniffed and felt her fur stand on end. How had she missed it? The forest here was rank with fox stench. “I—I was looking for prey, not fox,” she stammered.

Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Get back to camp.”

Dovepaw nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to make any more excuses. As she hurried away, Squirrelflight called after her, “Keep your eyes open!”

“I will,” she yowled back.

She figured that she must have given Tigerheart enough time to get clear. And she was going to see him later. She pictured his thick pelt and his long sleek tail, and she hardly felt her paws as she raced down the slope to the hollow. Her heart was pounding when she burst in through the thorn tunnel.

She skidded to a halt. Outside the nursery, Daisy and Poppyfrost were leaning forward, ears pricked. Mousefur peered from the elders’ den. Berrynose, at the fresh-kill pile with a sparrow in his jaws, seemed to be frozen to the spot. Leaves fluttered from Leafpool’s paws beside the warriors’ den.

All eyes were fixed on Millie and Jayfeather. The two cats faced each other, bristling, in the center of the clearing.

“You’re pushing her too hard!” Millie’s blue eyes blazed.

Jayfeather lashed his tail. “She needs to be pushed!”

“But she’s exhausted.”

“That’s better than lying in her nest slowly suffocating.”

“Are you sure about that?” Millie was trembling.

Jayfeather’s eyes widened. “You want her to die?”

“I want her to be healthy!” Millie hissed. “I want her to run through the forest. I want her to hunt and fight. I want her to know the joys of being a warrior!”

“That’s never going to happen,” Jayfeather mewed gently.

“Then what’s the point?” Millie raged.

“Isn’t there joy in simply being alive?” Jayfeather leaned closer to the distraught warrior.

“Joy?” Millie’s mew was thick with disbelief.

Jayfeather lifted his chin. “I won’t give up on Briarlight.”

A growl rumbled in Millie’s throat. “All you’re doing is dragging out her suffering.”

Leafpool hurried from the warriors’ den. “She’s not in any pain,” she meowed. “Jayfeather makes sure of that.”

“But she’s not getting any better,” Millie pointed out.

“Being a medicine cat is as much about faith as about herbs.” Leafpool swept her tail along Jayfeather’s flank.

Jayfeather jerked away. “I can deal with this by myself, Leafpool!”

But Millie was muzzle to muzzle with ThunderClan’s old medicine cat. “Faith?” she hissed. “If your warrior ancestors are so powerful, why don’t they cure her? If this had happened in my old home, my housefolk would have fixed her.”

“Millie?” Graystripe’s shocked whisper sounded from the entrance as he padded into the clearing. “Is that what you really think?”

Millie backed away. “I don’t know what to think,” she rasped. “I only see my kit, broken and helpless, struggling through each day, with death stalking her like a fox. . . .” Her mew trailed into silence.

“But she’s alive.” Graystripe blinked. “She’s here with us.”

Millie drew a deep breath. “She has to watch her littermates living the lives of warriors, while she just yowls and coughs and drags herself to and from the fresh-kill pile!”

The brambles at the entrance to the medicine den shifted. Briarlight’s paws jabbed through the prickly stems as she began to haul herself out. The hollow was silent except for the sound of Briarlight’s belly fur dragging over the frozen earth. She stared at Millie. “I’m getting better, aren’t I?”

Millie rushed to her kit and licked her cheek fiercely. “Yes, yes you are.”

“I’ll do all my exercises,” Briarlight promised.

“I know you will,” Millie soothed. “And I’ll help you.”

“They make me tired, but they don’t hurt me.”

“Thank StarClan Bumblestripe and Blossomfall weren’t around to hear that.” Dovepaw jumped as Poppyfrost’s mew breathed in her ear. Closing her eyes, Dovepaw reached out with her senses until she could hear Bumblestripe and Blossomfall pounding along the shore, purring as they raced each other to the stream.

They were lucky. Safe in their small world, they couldn’t hear every sound.

Dovepaw glanced around the hollow. Leafpool had returned to her work. Berrynose had carried the sparrow from the fresh-kill pile and was busy gulping it down. Graystripe stood alone in the clearing. Snow was beginning to fall, and the tiny flakes caught in his pelt.

Dovepaw felt a pang of guilt. Her heart was light. She was going to meet Tigerheart tonight.

Chapter 10

Afternoon sunlight flashed through thinning clouds as Flametail slipped into the ShadowClan camp. He glanced guiltily around the clearing. He’d only planned to close his eyes for a moment beside the Moonpool, but he’d been so tired he’d woken to find the night gone and the bright air shimmering with snowflakes.

Ivytail was washing outside the nursery, and she looked up as Flametail crossed the snow-dusted clearing. He dipped his head and hurried past her in silence. He had to make his first report to his mentor and then to Blackstar.

As Flametail pushed through the prickly wall of the medicine den, he was relieved to see Littlecloud out of his nest and sorting through a pile of dried herbs. They were smoky with dust, and he coughed as he pawed through them.

“We’ll need fresh supplies before the frost withers everything,” Littlecloud meowed to Flametail without looking up.

“Perhaps you should take a little of the coltsfoot,” Flametail suggested. “It might ease that cough.”

“It’s just the dust.”

Flametail halted beside his mentor. “How are you feeling?” There was less heat flooding from his pelt, but his eyes still looked milky.

“Better,” Littlecloud insisted. “A good night’s sleep is all I needed. What happened at the Moonpool? You’ve been gone a long time.”

Flametail stared at his paws. “I fell asleep in the hollow.”

“It’s a hard journey to the Moonpool, and you were already exhausted.”

“But I should have come straight back after a vision like that!”

Littlecloud leaned forward. “What?”

“StarClan warned me that trouble is coming.”

Littlecloud frowned. “What sort of trouble?”

“They won’t say exactly, but it’s serious.” Flametail shivered. “There was fire in the hollow. It was everywhere. Raggedstar said war was coming.”

“War?” Littlecloud pricked his ears. “What else did he say?”

“That we must forget all of our allegiances and look after our Clan alone.”

“Forget all of our allegiances?” Littlecloud’s tail began to twitch.

“Even our allegiances with the other medicine cats.”

Littlecloud blinked. “That’s never happened before!”

Flametail willed Littlecloud to understand. “Even StarClan is divided now. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves and our own ancestors.”

Littlecloud hurried to the entrance. “We must tell Blackstar.”

Outside, Blackstar had joined Rowanclaw at the head of the clearing. Oakfur was bounding toward the camp entrance with Snowbird and Ratscar at his heels. Crowfrost and Scorchfur were awaiting orders, while Olivenose and Owlclaw paced impatiently around them.

Littlecloud caught Blackstar’s eye.

Blackstar nodded to him. “Crowfrost!”

The black-and-white tom straightened up. “Yes?”

“Finish organizing the extra hunting patrols. I want the fresh-kill pile full by sundown. Rowanclaw, come with me.”

Eager eyes turned to Crowfrost as Blackstar withdrew to his den. Rowanclaw padded after his leader, and Littlecloud followed. Flametail waited as they disappeared into the shadows, then pushed his way in after them.

Blackstar’s gaze burned through the dimness, fixing on Flametail as he entered. “You dreamed at the Moonpool?”

Flametail nodded. “A time of war is coming. StarClan is divided into the four Clans we know here. We must break all allegiances and look after ourselves.”

Blackstar looked puzzled. “But we have no allegiances.”

Flametail glanced at Littlecloud. “Medicine cats share a code that crosses boundaries,” he reminded his leader.

Littlecloud sniffed. “Are you sure that’s what your dream meant?”

Flametail felt the fur on his shoulders begin to prick. “Sagewhisker told me exactly what it meant.”

“We can’t simply turn our backs on the other medicine cats,” Littlecloud argued. “Not after countless moons of sharing trouble and help.”

Flametail curled his claws into the needle-strewn floor but held his tongue. Couldn’t Littlecloud hear him?

“I think,” Littlecloud went on, “that we should interpret this dream carefully. StarClan has warned us that trouble is coming, and we must be ready for it. But why must we destroy friendships that have seen us through the most difficult times? It is too soon to forget the Great Journey, or the role medicine cats have played in helping all four Clans to settle here.”

Blackstar narrowed his eyes. “I trust your judgment, Littlecloud.” He dipped his head to Flametail. “Thank you for traveling to the Moonpool and bringing back this warning. We are not so foolish as to sacrifice ourselves for another Clan, but nor are we so stubborn that we’ll ignore help if we need it.”

A coughing spasm gripped Littlecloud.

“Go and rest,” Blackstar ordered.

Littlecloud swallowed hard against his coughing and padded from the den.

“Thank you again, Flametail.” Blackstar flicked his tail, and Flametail knew he was being dismissed. Frustration crawled beneath his pelt as he headed out into the slanting sunshine.

“You should rest, too.”

Rowanclaw’s mew made him jump. Flametail turned to see his father staring at him. “You must be exhausted.” Rowanclaw narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Flametail snorted and looked away.

“You had something else to say, didn’t you?” Rowanclaw pressed.

“I know what I saw at the Moonpool,” Flametail growled. “I passed on the message I was given.” He saw the tip of his mentor’s tail disappear into the medicine den. “Littlecloud’s too attached to ThunderClan.”

“He’s been a medicine cat for longer than you,” Rowanclaw pointed out. “It’s not surprising he has friends in the other Clans.”

“It’s clouded his reason,” Flametail argued. “A time of war is coming. Didn’t any of you hear that? Raggedstar was clear about how we should deal with it. Why can’t Littlecloud and Blackstar see that no other Clan will help us if it comes to a struggle for survival?”

“Don’t underestimate Blackstar.” Rowanclaw’s eyes darkened. “He’s no fool.”

“But he wasn’t listening to me!” Flametail lashed his tail. “He was listening to Littlecloud, and Littlecloud is too close to his medicine-cat friends.”

“Don’t worry.” Rowanclaw ran his tail along Flametail’s spine. “ShadowClan has always stood alone.”

“The warriors, maybe.” Flametail ducked away from his father’s soothing tail. “But never the medicine cats. Something’s happening inside StarClan.” A surge of determination stiffened his weary muscles. “All the Clans will be affected. This time we cannot risk relying on anyone but ourselves.”

Chapter 11

Dovepaw shifted her paws. It was too cold to stand still. The ground was lightly dusted with snow. The sky had cleared, and stars sparkled over the forest. Chilled to the bone, Dovepaw paced the scent line again, keeping her ears pricked. Was Tigerheart coming? She reached through the trees, past the beeches, through the pines, stretching her senses to the ShadowClan camp.

“Move over, Pinepaw! You’re crushing my nest.”

“Have some juniper before you sleep, Littlecloud. Just to ease the wheezing.”

Other sounds crowded at the edge of her hearing. Dovepaw let her senses spread wider.

“Swallowtail!”

The wind whisking the moor nearly swept away the voices from the WindClan camp.

“Where’s Whitetail?”

“She’s sharing Onestar’s den tonight.”

Water lapped at the edge of the RiverClan camp.

“Willowshine?” Mothwing called to her apprentice. “Did you make sure Pouncetail’s bedding was fixed?”

A dog yapped crossly near the horseplace. It reminded Dovepaw of the fox, and she drew her senses closer, sweeping the forest nearby just in case the freezing air had fooled her nose again.

Paw steps brushed the thin covering of snow only tail-lengths away. There was weight in them, though they were creeping lightly. Dovepaw tensed, jerking her head to scan the shadowy trees. The paw steps quickened. Dovepaw crouched lower as claws scuffed the ground.

“Dovepaw?”

Tigerheart!

“You spooked me!”

“I thought you’d hear me coming.” A purr rumbled in his chest. “You have sharper hearing than any cat I know.”

Too sharp. She’d been listening so hard, she’d missed the one thing she’d been waiting for. She needed to remember that hearing everything was sometimes not as useful as hearing something.

“Dovepaw?” Tigerheart’s eyes were gleaming in the moonlight.

She blinked. “Sorry.” She wasn’t going to let her powers distract her from Tigerheart. He wasn’t going to think of her as anything but an ordinary forest cat.

The warrior nudged her shoulder softly with his muzzle. “Stop apologizing.”

Above them, the waning moon curled like a claw in the sable black sky and bathed the forest with soft light. Tigerheart’s pelt shone beneath it, and Dovepaw felt dazzled by the sight of him.

“Come on.” He headed away.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place where no one will find us.”

Dovepaw hurried after him. He was heading away from the lake, following the ShadowClan border. The land sloped gently upward, and the trees began to thin. She started to get breathless keeping up.

“You’ll love this place,” Tigerheart called back. “No one knows about it except me and Flametail.”

The scents of ThunderClan and ShadowClan were growing fainter. Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. The lake looked like a flattened disc glimmering far away through the trees. “Are we leaving Clan territory?” Excitement prickled in her belly. Was that mountain air she could smell? And what was that musky scent? Her fur pricked as a familiar smell hit her tongue.

Jayfeather.

She stopped and sniffed a low thorny bush. Jayfeather’s scent lingered on the tips of the stems. Lionblaze’s, too. What had they been doing here? She touched a stem with her tongue. The scents were stale. Moons had passed, from the taste of it.

“Hurry up.” Tigerheart paused above her on the slope. Silhouetted in the moonlight, his forepaws planted squarely, his chin high, he looked like a Clan leader.

Dovepaw pushed the thought away. “Coming!” She scrambled up the slope to a clearing. Ahead, a tumbledown Twoleg nest rose like a gray tree stump, smaller than the abandoned nest in ThunderClan’s territory. Half the walls had fallen down, and there was hardly any roof.

“Wow!” Dovepaw raced past Tigerheart and dashed up the pebbly path that led to the den entrance. She stopped where shadows filled the opening and turned back to Tigerheart. “Is it safe?”

Tigerheart nodded.

Dovepaw crossed the smooth rock that spanned the entrance and padded into the den. Moonlight pooled on the stone floor. She looked up and saw the starry sky. Straight wooden beams crisscrossed it. They must have held the roof up when the nest had been whole.

“How did you know about this place?” she called as Tigerheart followed her in.

“Flametail and I found it when we were apprentices.” He leaped up onto a rock jutting above a hole in the wall. “We used to play here.” With a second leap he was balancing on one of the crisscrossing logs. It was flat on each side, and he padded along as though he’d done it countless times before.

Dovepaw leaped up onto the jutting stone, her heart lurching as her paws slipped. Dust showered down while she shuffled to regain her balance. She eyed the log where Tigerheart had walked, judging the distance carefully, then leaped. It creaked as she landed, but the wood was rough and soft enough to sink her claws into. Chest pounding, she steadied herself and gazed down at the floor below.

“It’s not too far down,” Tigerheart called from the other end of the log. “Don’t be scared.” He flicked his tail, then jumped. In a long, arcing leap he seemed to fly from one log to another, landing solidly and turning to blink at Dovepaw. “Now watch this.” Without pausing, he leaped from one log to the next the entire length of the nest, then turned and bounded back as though he were leaping stepping-stones across a stream.

“Be careful!” Dovepaw gasped. With each jump her heart jumped too.

“That’s nothing!” he mewed, landing beside her. He glanced up to where two logs sloped upward and met at a point. Without warning, he reared on his hind legs and leaped, swinging by his claws from a sloping log before hauling himself up and scrambling to the peak.

“Stop it!” Dovepaw could hardly breathe. She couldn’t imagine another cat being so strong and nimble—or brave.

Tigerheart slithered down a sloping log and began springing back toward her. As he landed on a log next to hers, it creaked. The sound sent Dovepaw’s thoughts spinning back to the hollow when the beech—its great trunk groaning and splintering—had toppled into the camp.

“Watch out!” A shriek ripped from her throat. She leaped across the gap, clasping Tigerheart in her paws and sending them both hurtling to the floor. They landed with a thump on a soft pile of moss. Dust clouded around them.

Her eyes streaming and throat burning, Dovepaw wriggled her paws. “Are you okay?”

Tigerheart didn’t reply.

Oh, StarClan. Let him be okay!

“Tigerheart!”

“I think I’m okay.” A muffled voice sounded from beneath her. “But you’re going to have to get off me so I can find out.”

Mortified, Dovepaw wriggled away. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I didn’t mean to land on you.”

Tigerheart sat up. He lifted one forepaw, then the other. Then he shook his head. “I’ll live,” he announced. His gaze was warm but puzzled.

Dovepaw fought the urge to stare at her paws.

“What happened?” he asked.

She glanced up at the log. It was still in one piece. “I heard a crack,” she mewed apologetically. “I thought it was about to break.”

Tigerheart followed her gaze, squinting a little. “Wow,” he breathed.

“Wow?”

“Can you see that tiny split?”

Dovepaw looked harder and saw in the moonlight a small, fresh crack in the log.

“You’ve got even sharper ears than I thought.” Tigerheart’s whiskers twitched. “You saved my life!” He scrambled to his paws and began to circle her, tail high, a purr in his voice. “Without you, I’d be dead now. You’re my hero. How can I possibly thank you?”

Dovepaw lifted her chin, playing along. “You must bring me mice,” she mewed haughtily. “And a fresh squirrel every day for a moon. And new moss for my nest. And . . .” She flicked his chin with her tail-tip. “You must follow me around all day and pick the burrs out of my pelt.”

The playfulness drained from Tigerheart’s warm amber gaze. Dovepaw tensed, wondering if she’d teased him too much.

“I’d gladly do all that for you.” His mew was as steady as his gaze. “You didn’t have to save my life first.”

Dovepaw stared back. “I didn’t really save your life,” she whispered. “It was just a tiny crack. That log could still hold your weight.”

“Maybe,” Tigerheart agreed. “But you were worried about me. That means you care, right?” Dovepaw saw doubt flicker in the young ShadowClan warrior’s gaze. “I mean, you care more than if we were just friends?” he pressed.

Dovepaw swallowed. For the first time she actually felt like she had the power of the stars in her paws.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I care.” Her heart twisted in her chest, half in pain, half in joy. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

A purr rose deep in her chest as Tigerheart leaned forward and touched his muzzle to hers. Their breath billowed into a single cloud. He twisted his tail around hers, and warmth spread beneath her pelt.

Tigerheart sighed. “We’d better get back, before we’re missed.” He pulled away, but only far enough to let her get to her paws. Together they padded to the nest entrance, fur brushing fur.

They paused on the smooth rock, and Dovepaw stared out at the forest stretching down toward the distant lake. “This is going to work, right?”

“Yes,” Tigerheart promised. “No boundaries are ever going to be strong enough to separate us.”

Dovepaw blinked at him. “Really?” She wanted to believe it. She had to believe it. Nothing had ever felt so important.

“Let’s meet again before half-moon,” Tigerheart suggested.

“Tomorrow.” Dovepaw felt bold.

“Do you think we could leave camp two nights in a row?” Tigerheart’s eyes widened. “You’d take that risk?”

“It’s worth it.” She brushed his cheek with her nose. His scent felt warm on her tongue. He was hers now. He didn’t belong to ShadowClan. They belonged to each other.

“What about your denmates?” Tigerheart pulled away. “They’ll notice you’ve gone.”

“It’s just Ivypaw now.” Dovepaw hooked a clump of moss from Tigerheart’s pelt. “She won’t tell.”

She felt him stiffen. “Ivypaw?”

A cold stone dropped in Dovepaw’s belly. Suddenly she remembered the look her sister had shared with Tigerheart during the battle. “D-do you know Ivypaw?”

Tigerheart flicked a strand of dried grass awkwardly from her shoulder. “I’ve seen her at Gatherings.”

“But nothing more than that?” Dovepaw demanded.

Tigerheart sat back and looked her straight in the eye. “Do you mean, have I ever asked to meet her in the middle of the night, and brought her here to risk my life on collapsing logs?” He tipped his head. “Let me think. . . .”

Dovepaw fought the urge to shove him.

“. . . No. I’m pretty sure I haven’t.” He touched his nose to her ear. “There’s only one sister I’m interested in.”

His breath was warm. How could she have doubted him? He’d risked so much, coming here and confessing his feelings. She must have imagined the look in the battle with ShadowClan.

I trust him.

“Come on.” She led the way down the slope until they reached the deeper forest, where he fell in beside her and pulled brambles from her path. She felt wistful as the scents of their Clans grew stronger, and when she began to recognize the trees along the border, her heart began to ache. Tomorrow night seemed a lifetime away. As they reached the clump of beech where they’d met, their steps slowed.

“It’ll be tomorrow before you know it,” Tigerheart murmured gently. He must have been sharing her thoughts.

She touched her muzzle to his. “See you then,” she whispered.

“Definitely,” he meowed. “Sweet dreams.”

Chapter 12

The dawn was bright, and Lionblaze watched as Brambleclaw and Firestar stood below Highledge, their Clanmates pacing eagerly around them.

“Dustpelt, Toadstep, and Foxleap,” Firestar called. “Hunt by the Ancient Oak. Sandstorm, Whitewing, and Birchfall, flush anything out of the moorland you can without crossing the WindClan border.”

Dovepaw yawned. “Are we hunting or training today?”

“Both.” Lionblaze wondered why she looked so sleepy. “I’m taking you out with Cinderheart and Ivypaw.” He’d planned the training session with Cinderheart last night as they’d wandered along the moonlit lakeshore. “We want to see how you manage hunting in snow.” His thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Cinderheart’s pelt had shone in the moonlight, and the stars had glittered as though the sky were as frosted as the hills. “Then we are more than friends?” he had whispered into Cinderheart’s ear.

She’d pressed her cheek to his. “Hadn’t you guessed?”

“I’d hoped.”

She’d purred and wrapped her tail around his. “Mouse-brain.”

“Graystripe.” Firestar’s mew broke into his remembering. “Take Millie, Brightheart, and Blossomfall and hunt by the lake.”

Across the clearing, Ivypaw was circling Cinderheart excitedly. The apprentice had grown and filled out in the last moon. Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. Today’s training wasn’t just about seeing Dovepaw hunt. He wanted to observe Ivypaw. Jayfeather had persuaded him to wait and see how her visits to the Dark Forest changed her. He’d agreed and had promised not to challenge the young cat yet. But he wasn’t completely convinced that they shouldn’t intervene. Cinderheart had been fretting over the injuries that appeared fresh each day on her apprentice. Ivypaw had told her mentor that she had fallen out of her nest, or run into brambles while practicing her hunting moves outside the hollow. Clearly the Dark Forest warriors were training the young cat hard.

Firestar issued more instructions. “Squirrelflight, Brackenfur, and Mousewhisker, you can hunt along the banks of the stream. There may be voles.”

As the warriors headed for the entrance, Daisy came hurrying across the clearing. Molekit and Cherrykit scampered at her heels. “There’ll be no warriors left in camp at this rate,” she called to the ThunderClan leader. “The hollow will be empty except for elders and kits. What if ShadowClan decides to take its revenge?”

Cherrykit reared onto her hind legs and boxed at the air. “I’ll shred them.”

Molekit pressed against Daisy’s long cream fur. “I’ll tear off their tails.”

“Thank you, little ones.” Daisy’s eyes darkened with worry as she stared at Firestar. “Well?”

Firestar shook his head. “ShadowClan’s warriors won’t attack undefended kits and elders.”

“Are we ready?”

Lionblaze looked up, surprised at the sound of Ivypaw’s mew. She was a whisker-length from his muzzle. She’s faster and lighter on her paws than she used to be.

Cinderheart joined them, yawning. “Let’s go before we freeze.”

Outside, Rosepetal, Sorreltail, and Brackenfur were tasting the air. “We’d be wasting our time at the shore,” Brackenfur meowed to his mate.

Sorreltail nodded. “The deeper into the forest, the better,” she agreed.

Rosepetal glanced at them expectantly. “Which way?”

“Up there.” Sorreltail flicked her tail toward a thickly brambled slope.

As Rosepetal charged away, shaking snow from the bushes, Sorreltail shook her head. “She’d better slow down, or she’ll scare more prey than she catches.”

Brackenfur purred and headed up the slope with Sorreltail. They seemed to move as one, their pelts brushing.

Lionblaze stared after them. He wanted to walk with Cinderheart like that someday. His whiskers twitched as he imagined kits bounding around their paws, tripping them at every step. A soft muzzle brushed his, and he realized Cinderheart had been watching him.

“I’d like that too,” she whispered.

His heart quickened as he fell into her gentle gaze. He could still smell the night breeze in her pelt. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Hey!” Dovepaw’s surprised mew made Lionblaze turn.

The apprentice was shaking snow from her smoky fur. Ivypaw was perched on a snow-laden branch above her sister’s head. With a flick of her striped silver tail she sent another avalanche cascading over Dovepaw.

Dovepaw darted toward the tree trunk and began to climb. “I’ll get you!”

“Get down, both of you!” Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. “We can have fun after the hunt.”

Ivypaw leaped to the ground, landing easily. “Which way?” Her eyes shone.

Lionblaze’s paws pricked. She’s more confident.

“The pines,” Cinderheart suggested. “They’ll give us more shelter.”

Ivypaw scampered away. “I’ll race you, Dovepaw!” she called over her shoulder.

Dovepaw scrambled down from the trunk and sent up a flurry of snow as she chased after her sister. Lionblaze frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Cinderheart tipped her head toward him. “Did you want to hunt somewhere else?”

“That fox has been hanging around the pines,” he reminded her.

“Then we’d better keep up with them.” Cinderheart darted off, following the apprentices’ tracks.

Lionblaze pelted after her. They caught up to their apprentices as beech gave way to pine. The ShadowClan border was close enough to taste.

“Look!” Ivypaw was circling beneath a pine tree, her nose skimming the ground. “Fox prints?” She looked excitedly up at Lionblaze.

She’s observant. He hurried to inspect them. The snow framed perfect prints. “Fox,” he confirmed.

Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Let’s follow them,” Ivypaw suggested.

Cinderheart was already padding along the trail. Lionblaze slid ahead of her, ignoring her growl. He wasn’t going to risk her getting hurt just to save her pride. If they bumped into a fox, he was going to be the one to deal with it.

The fat paw prints trailed under a low, spreading elderberry bush. “Wait there,” he hissed over his shoulder. Slowly, nose twitching for fresh scents, he slithered below the branches. Under the bush the ground opened into a hole. The stench of fox seeped from the earth, thankfully stale.

“Should we fill it in?”

Cinderheart’s mew made Lionblaze jump.

“I thought I told you to stay back.”

She flashed him a look that challenged him to argue. He decided not to. “If we fill in this hole,” he reasoned, “the fox might just dig a new one closer to the camp.” He wriggled backward from under the bush and shook the snow from his pelt.

Cinderheart popped out after him.

Ivypaw was hopping from paw to paw. “Should we report back to Firestar?”

She’s still loyal. “When we’ve finished training,” Lionblaze decided. “The fox hasn’t bothered us yet; there’s no reason it’ll start now.”

“But keep your eyes open,” Cinderheart warned.

“And your ears.” Lionblaze looked pointedly at Dovepaw, frustrated to find her staring through the trees. What had happened to her concentration? “Go and hunt!”

She jerked around. “Now?”

“Why do you think we came here?”

Ivypaw was scratching at the snow, clearly keen to start. “Are we hunting together or alone?”

“Alone,” Cinderheart told her. “We’ll be able to assess you better.”

“Okay.” Ivypaw bounded past the elderberry, her silver-and-white pelt soon lost among the trees. Cinderheart hurried after her.

Lionblaze watched them go, frowning. Perhaps he should have suggested they hunt together so he could keep studying Ivypaw.

“Which way should I go?” Dovepaw asked.

“You’re the hunter,” Lionblaze meowed. “You decide.”

Dovepaw scanned the forest, ears stretched, nose twitching, then headed up a rise that ran along the ShadowClan border. Lionblaze hung back until she was out of sight before trailing her.

He paused near the crest and peered over. The snow was falling more heavily now, and he could hardly see Dovepaw through the flakes. But he could hear her paws crunching, and every time she sniffed for prey, she snuffled as though fighting back a sneeze. This was impossible hunting weather.

Dovepaw’s trail led around a wide swath of bramble, then straightened through a stand of slender maple. Her tracks were already covered with fresh snow. The tinier tracks of prey would be impossible to see or scent. Lionblaze caught sight of her through the trees, no more than a gray blur. But he saw her drop into a crouch. She must be stalking something. As silently as he could, praying the falling snow would deaden his paw steps, he crept closer.

His nose picked up the scent of squirrel. Dovepaw was tracking it over roots that were little more than bumps in the snow. Lionblaze glimpsed a bobbing tail as Dovepaw dived. Then she yowled in frustration as she tripped and tumbled forward. Snow clumps showered her from above as the squirrel fled into the safety of a tree.

“Bad luck.” Lionblaze caught up to her.

“Stupid bramble tripped me,” she grumbled. “I couldn’t see it under the snow.”

“These are hard conditions even for experienced warriors,” he comforted her. “And this is your first snow hunt.”

Dovepaw glanced up at the branches, narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t we hunt up there? That’s where the prey seems to be hiding.”

Lionblaze flexed his claws. He hated climbing, but she was right. “Okay.”

He waited while his apprentice scrambled up the trunk of a maple, and then he heaved himself after, relieved to reach the first branch. Dovepaw was already clambering onto the second, and by the time he’d followed, she was scampering along the bough and preparing to launch herself into the branches of the next tree.

Shaking snow from his whiskers, Lionblaze felt like a badger trailing a squirrel. Stretching every claw, he struggled to grip the slippery bark.

“I can see a blackbird!” Dovepaw hissed over her shoulder.

“I’ll wait here.” Lionblaze could see the bird’s black feathers through the snow. It was sheltering in a pine, just a small leap from the branch they were on. Dovepaw drew herself forward, flattening her belly against the bark. She waggled her haunches, then jumped.

The pine shook as she landed. The blackbird squawked, and the branch bent under Dovepaw’s weight. With a yelp of surprise, she fell into the snow underneath.

Lionblaze scrambled down the trunk. “Are you okay?”

Dovepaw was staggering on her hind legs while the blackbird struggled and flapped in her grip. She slammed it to the ground and bent to give it the killing bite.

Suddenly, shrieks of terror echoed through the forest. Dovepaw let go of the blackbird. “The fox is in the camp!” She pelted away through the trees as the blackbird fluttered, shouting indignantly, up into the pine tree once more.

Lionblaze launched himself after Dovepaw. Blinded by the snow, he didn’t see Cinderheart till she swerved along beside him.

“What’s going on?” She matched his pace. “What’s all the noise?”

Ivypaw slowed in front of them and hared after Dovepaw.

“The fox is in the hollow!” Lionblaze growled. He pushed harder against the snow, unsheathing his claws.

As they neared camp, Millie came skidding down a slope, showering snow before her. Blossomfall was at her heels. Graystripe and Brightheart were a few steps behind, pelts bristling.

The shrieks from the hollow grew fiercer.

Lionblaze tore through the ragged barrier, shock pulsing through him as he saw the fox. It was circling wildly, huge against the snowy dens, its red pelt like fire next to the icy walls. Poppyfrost and Ferncloud spat, arch-backed, from the nursery entrance, swiping out with unsheathed claws every time the fox whirled near. Jaws snapping, ears flattened, it lashed its tail against the newly built dens. Daisy pressed herself against the medicine den entrance, her fur bushed up, hissing like a cornered snake.

Brambleclaw’s patrol had arrived just ahead of Dovepaw and Lionblaze. The ThunderClan deputy darted between the fox’s front legs, ducking to avoid its teeth. Dustpelt reared up and swiped at its snout, spattering blood over the white clearing. The fox yelped and snapped harder.

As Dustpelt jumped clear, Toadstep raked his claws down the fox’s flank, ripping out hunks of red fur. Blood roared in Lionblaze’s ears. Time seemed to slow down as he crouched with his haunches beneath him, rage welling inside him until he had to force himself to hold back the power pulsing through his muscles. He locked his gaze on the fox until he was blind to everything but its red pelt.

Then he leaped.

He landed square on the creature’s shoulders and sank his teeth deep into its flesh. The fox shrieked and plunged away from him. Lionblaze lost his grip and thudded onto the snowy clearing. With a snarl, Brightheart grabbed hold of its tail. The fox whirled around, smacking the one-eyed warrior against a beech branch. But Brightheart clung on, her lips drawn back and her ears flat.

Dovepaw darted under the fox and nipped at its back legs, while Ivypaw clawed at its front. Cinderheart reared and slashed its snout. Foxleap flung himself with flailing claws at its flank. Eyes white-rimmed with terror and confusion, the fox scrambled for the entrance. Bucking and twisting, it threw Brightheart clear as it tore through the barrier. With a final wail, it pelted away into the forest.

Brambleclaw climbed onto the halfrock and surveyed the hollow. “Who’s hurt?” he demanded.

Lionblaze scanned his Clanmates. They were checking their pelts and shaking their heads, but Jayfeather was already out of his den and hurrying from warrior to warrior, sniffing for wounds.

“Is Briarlight okay?” Brambleclaw called.

“She’s fine.” Jayfeather moved on to Dustpelt.

Brambleclaw nodded. “Berrynose, Birchfall, and Foxleap, start repairing the barrier. Graystripe, go and find Firestar’s patrol and tell him what’s happened.” He nodded to Ferncloud at the nursery entrance. “Are the kits all right?”

“It didn’t get near them,” Ferncloud reported.

Lionblaze stepped forward. “I’ve seen its den.”

Dustpelt arched his back, snarling. “Let’s go and teach it a lesson.”

Brambleclaw waved his tail. “I think we already have.”

Lionblaze felt a warm cheek pressing against his. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It was Cinderheart.

“I’m fine.” He saw her ruffled pelt. Clumps of fur stuck out around her neck. “What about you?”

“Shaken, but okay.”

Ivypaw bounced toward them. “We showed it, didn’t we?”

Dovepaw trailed after. “I should have heard it sooner.” The words caught in her throat.

“You were hunting,” Lionblaze told her. “You’re good, but you can’t be expected to hear everything.” But he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Perhaps Dovepaw shouldn’t hunt. Perhaps she should concentrate on using her powers to look out for danger.

Ivypaw faced her sister, scowling. “Why should you have heard it?” she demanded. “We were the farthest from the hollow! Why do you have to act like you’re special all the time?”

Cinderheart flinched.

Lionblaze lashed his tail, angry with himself. Why had he praised Dovepaw in front of Ivypaw? “Don’t quarrel,” he pleaded.

The thorns rattled, snapped stems dropping, as Firestar raced into camp. Thornclaw and Sandstorm followed with Graystripe. The ThunderClan leader held a starling in his jaws. He dropped it and looked around the hollow. “Is everyone okay? Are the dens damaged?”

“The thorn barrier got the worst of it,” Brambleclaw reported.

Sandstorm was already at the nursery entrance comforting Ferncloud. “The kits are safe. You did well.”

Jayfeather was wrapping one of Foxleap’s paws in a comfrey leaf.

“Are you hurt?” Firestar asked the young warrior.

Jayfeather answered for him. “Lost a claw, I’m afraid. But it’ll heal.”

Rosepetal gasped and raced across the clearing. “Does it hurt?” she gasped.

Foxleap lifted his chin. “A bit.”

Jayfeather gently let go of Foxleap’s paw. “We were lucky there weren’t more injuries.” He carefully folded a comfrey leaf. “My stores are running low, and if this snow keeps up, I’m not going to be able to restock them.”

Ferncloud whisked her tail anxiously. “What if the kits get coughs?”

“I’ve taken all the new growth I can from my herb patch by the Twoleg nest,” Jayfeather went on. “I can’t risk taking any more, or the plants won’t keep growing. We need to search the forest for fresh supplies.”

Lionblaze tensed. “Will there be any left in this snow?”

“Not if we delay,” Jayfeather warned. “Any leaves that are left will be black and useless before long. We need to gather them now.”

Brightheart bounded forward. “I’ll go,” she offered. “I know what to look for.”

“I’ll help.” Leafpool stepped forward. “I know where to find them.”

“Thank you.” Firestar nodded to Thornclaw and Dustpelt. “Escort them,” he ordered. “Just in case the fox is still around.” He turned to Brambleclaw. “Organize more hunting patrols.” He kicked the starling he’d dropped. “This won’t be enough to feed the Clan.” He padded across the clearing and climbed the rock tumble while Brambleclaw assembled the warriors.

Lionblaze hurried after the ThunderClan leader, ignoring the curious stares of Cinderheart and Dovepaw as he scrambled up to Highledge. “Let me fight the fox,” he begged.

Firestar turned, eyes wide.

“I’ll drive it from our territory once and for all.” Lionblaze returned Firestar’s green gaze unblinkingly. “You know I won’t get hurt.”

Firestar sat down.

“It would mean we can hunt safely,” Lionblaze pressed.

Firestar frowned. “Are you sure you won’t get hurt?” His eyes darkened. “Just because you haven’t been wounded yet doesn’t prove you can’t be. Why risk your life over a fox when we know there are more dangerous enemies waiting in the shadows?”

“It’s going to be a hard leaf-bare,” Lionblaze reasoned. “Why make it harder by sharing what little prey we have with a fox?”

“And how will you explain to your Clanmates that you drove away a fox single-pawed?” Firestar queried. “I thought you wanted to keep your powers secret.”

“They won’t know,” Lionblaze argued. “I can tell them that I took the fox by surprise. That winning the fight was just lucky. I’ll say that it was already injured after attacking the camp.”

Firestar wrapped his tail over his paws. “Okay,” he agreed. “But take Dovepaw with you.”

“Dovepaw?” Lionblaze’s ears twitched. “She might get hurt.”

“Keep her at a distance,” Firestar ordered. “She can run for help if you need it.”

“I won’t need—” Lionblaze bit back his objection. I won’t need help; I know it. He had gotten what he wanted. There was no need to say anything else.

Chapter 13

Lionblaze stretched in his nest. His back brushed Cinderheart’s. She murmured but didn’t wake. Dawn hardly showed through the woven stems of the den. Lionblaze lay still, breathing gently, while shadows stirred around him. Dustpelt yawned and slid out of the den, ready for the first patrol.

Whitewing sat up and reached a paw into Brackenfur’s nest. “It’s time,” she whispered.

The russet warrior grunted and hauled himself to his paws. “Has it snowed again?”

“I haven’t looked yet.” Whitewing picked her way between the nests and ducked out of the den. Snow crunched as she headed across the clearing.

Lionblaze waited for Brackenfur to leave before he sat up. He wished he’d fought the fox last night while its wounds were still fresh and before it had rested. But Firestar had ordered him to wait.

“If you hunt it now,” the ThunderClan leader had reasoned, “the other warriors will feel cheated of a chance to protect their Clan. If you wait, they’re more likely to believe you came across it by accident.”

Cinderheart rolled onto her back, ears twitching as though she was dreaming. The gray fur of her belly looked downy and warm. Lionblaze felt a sudden pang of guilt. She had no idea about his special powers. He hadn’t told her about the prophecy. Now that they’d grown so close, it seemed like lying to keep it from her. But how could he tell her? Their love felt strong, but could it survive the truth?

Lionblaze pushed away the worry and breathed in her warm, sleepy scent. I’ll drive this fox out for you, Cinderheart, so that you can hunt safely all leaf-bare. He brushed his tail gently over her as he crept to the den entrance. A fresh layer of snow had fallen, and the clearing had the smoothness of water, ruffled only by the tracks of the dawn patrol. The sky showed pink above the hollow, and soft light filtered down into camp.

Lionblaze slid out of the den. Firestar was standing on Highledge, gazing over the empty clearing. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Lionblaze, then nodded. Lionblaze flicked his tail and hurried to the apprentices’ den. “Dovepaw!”

His call was barely a whisper, but a moment later the ferns rustled and the gray apprentice pushed her way out.

“Training already?” She stretched with her front paws until her belly dented the snow.

“We have a special mission.”

Dovepaw straightened. “Is Jayfeather coming with us?”

“We don’t need his powers for this.” I don’t need yours, either.

He headed out of camp, Dovepaw scampering after him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

“Do you need me to listen for something?”

“No.” He wasn’t in the mood for questions. He should have done this last night and done it alone. He marched along a well-worn trail, his thoughts on the fox. Dovepaw spoke again, but he didn’t listen. Lionblaze was picturing the fox whirling wildly in the camp, snapping at Ferncloud, lashing Daisy with its tail. Rage boiled in his blood. How dare it threaten his Clanmates?

A gray pelt blocked his path. “Where are we going?” Dovepaw’s frustrated mew made him stop.

“I’m going to chase away the fox.” He pushed past her and pressed on.

She bounded along beside him. “Just us?”

“Just me. Firestar said I had to bring you to fetch help if I got hurt.”

“Firestar knows about this?” Dovepaw sounded surprised.

“Why shouldn’t he?” Lionblaze bristled. “He’s Clan leader. And he knows about my powers. He knows I won’t get hurt.”

“But this isn’t what we were given our powers for!”

Lionblaze halted and stared at Dovepaw. “You think we should stand by and let a fox terrorize our Clanmates?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Dovepaw stood her ground. “I mean other Clans deal with foxes without special powers. Why do something alone that a patrol of ordinary warriors could do?” There was something wistful in the way she mewed ordinary.

“It’ll be easier this way,” Lionblaze promised. “And no one will get hurt.”

Dovepaw turned away. “It just seems wrong, that’s all. Like cheating.” She followed the trail around a sprawling patch of ivy.

“Cheating?” Lionblaze hurried after her. “How can it be cheating to use the powers we’ve been given to protect our Clan?”

Dovepaw carried on walking. “In a Clan, everyone looks after one another. It’s what binds us together. If you can do the duties of every other warrior, what’s the point?”

“The point is I won’t get hurt and they might.”

“I’m sure Thornclaw and Dustpelt would be happy to know that they can move straight into the elders’ den. Clearly they’re not needed now that the Clan has you.”

“For StarClan’s sake!” Lionblaze growled. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“I’m just saying what I think. Or isn’t that allowed anymore? Does only your opinion count?”

“You know I don’t think that.” Lionblaze was surprised to hear Dovepaw sound so fierce. “I’m just being practical. This way, the fox will be gone, and no one will get hurt.”

Dovepaw flicked her tail. “I just wish you felt the same way about Ivypaw.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you told her to stop visiting the Dark Forest yet?”

“Jayfeather thinks we should wait.”

“For what? Until she wakes up with an injury so bad everyone in the Clan will notice it?”

Lionblaze halted. “Look,” he began. “Jayfeather thinks that if we watch her, we might learn how the Dark Forest warriors are training their recruits.”

Dovepaw tipped her head to one side and stared at him. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Would she tell us?”

“Of course she would!” Dovepaw snapped. “She doesn’t know they’re using her. She thinks she’s being trained to be a great warrior.”

“In that case, what’s the harm in watching her for a little while longer?” Even as he spoke, doubt pricked his pelt. Ivypaw was only an apprentice. Whatever was going on in the Place of No Stars, she was out of her depth.

“What if she gets badly hurt?” Dovepaw snapped. “How would you feel, knowing you could have stopped her and didn’t?” She turned and kicked through the snow.

There was no time to reason with her. They were nearing the elderberry bush where the fox hole was hidden. Lionblaze padded ahead and signaled with his tail. “Hide under that holly bush and listen out in case there’s trouble.”

Fur bristled along Dovepaw’s spine. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I’ll be okay, but just in case anything goes wrong, get back to camp and get help.”

She nodded.

Lionblaze turned away and opened his mouth, letting fox scent bathe his tongue. Dovepaw’s arguing had distracted him, interfered with his focus. The fox invaded our territory, he reminded himself. It had attacked the camp. Kits could have been killed. Anger started to bubble beneath his pelt, and he ducked under the elderberry bush and crept toward the fox hole.

There were no fresh paw prints leading from the hole. It must be inside. He peered into the darkness, wrinkling his nose at the stench. His paws itched with foreboding. The hole disappeared into blackness. Every hair in his pelt stiffened.

I’ll draw the fox out.

He crouched at the entrance and gave a sharp, angry yowl.

Silence.

Coward!

Then he remembered with a flash of fury that this fox preferred attacking defenseless kits. He crouched lower, stretching forward. Swallowing against the rank odor, he gave a weak, whimpering yowl.

He pricked his ears. Nothing.

Tentatively, he climbed over the lip of the hole and crept into the darkness. The snow turned to earth beneath his belly as he slithered in. The fox stench was suffocating. He held his breath and crawled farther into the pitch-black lair.

Pain seared his tail as sharp teeth clamped it and dragged him backward. He scrabbled at the earth, struggling to turn, but the fox had caught him, and with a growl it hauled him from the hole and flung him out into the snow. Lionblaze sprang to his paws and faced the fox as it slunk out from under the elderberry bush. It stared back at him, its black eyes bright with hatred. Its snout was still scarred from yesterday’s battle.

Lionblaze stood his ground, hissing. The fox showed its teeth. Then it rushed at him. Lionblaze reared up, meeting it with a flurry of swipes. But the weight of the fox hurled him backward. Lionblaze landed with a thump that knocked his breath away. He twisted, tail thrashing as he tried to stand, but heavy paws slammed him harder against the ground. Jaws snapped at his ear, and saliva sprayed his face.

Struggling for breath, Lionblaze dug his claws into the snowy ground and hauled himself forward, leaping to his paws as soon as he was clear. The power of the fox had startled him. He’d never fought an animal as big as this. He’d have to move faster. With any luck, the fox couldn’t match his speed. Lionblaze spun around, claws slashing.

Too late!

Pain scoured his flesh, and Lionblaze felt his paws lift from the ground. He churned at the air, panic rising. The fox’s teeth were pressing deep into his shoulder. For the first time ever, he feared his flesh would rip.

Dovepaw was standing only tail-lengths away, her mouth wide. “I’ll get help!” she screeched.

“No!” Lionblaze twisted and lashed out, blocking agony as the fox’s teeth stretched his pelt. Triumph flickered in his belly as he felt fur and flesh rip beneath his claws, and the fox let go with a howl.

Time slowed down.

The snowy ground met Lionblaze’s paws. He spun on his haunches and reached out with one paw. Claws stretched wide, he met the fox’s snarling face with a ferocious blow. Saliva drenched his pad as a flick of the fox’s snout sent Lionblaze staggering backward. It dived again. Lionblaze met it with another vicious swipe. Blood sprayed his muzzle, and he heard the fox wail.

As red fur blurred in front of him, Lionblaze pressed his hind legs into the ground and leaped. He sprang high and clear of the fox’s jaws and landed on its shoulders. The fox felt solid beneath him, like warm earth; it bucked and reared, turning this way and that, snapping at Lionblaze over its shoulder and yelping with frustration. But Lionblaze gripped on, keeping just out of reach.

Digging every claw deeper, he sank his teeth into the fox’s fur, feeling flesh tear and tugging harder. Blood throbbed from the wound, filling Lionblaze’s mouth. The fox sank beneath him with a howl. Lionblaze froze, his teeth still embedded in flesh. He waited for a moment.

The fox lay still, its flanks heaving, a soft whine in its throat. Lionblaze let go and backed off. Crouching, he stared at the fox through a haze of blood. The creature stirred and hauled itself to its paws. Gasping and whining, it headed for the hole. Lionblaze darted forward, snarling and blocking its way. The fox stared at him with wide, terrified eyes and veered past the elderberry bush. With a flick of its scarlet, blood-flecked tail, it headed into the bracken.

Dovepaw slid out from the holly bush, her pelt standing on end. Without speaking, she began to herd the fox onward. Slashing at it from either side, they drove it along the ShadowClan border, making sure it didn’t cross into ShadowClan territory, growling threateningly if it tried to break away into the heart of ThunderClan’s forest. Together they drove it away from the lake and up out of Clan land.

As the slope steepened and oak turned to ash around them, the fox scrambled ahead and vanished under a lump of brambles.

“That’s far enough.” Panting, Lionblaze sat down.

Dovepaw halted beside him and watched the leaves quiver where the fox had disappeared.

“It won’t come back.” Lionblaze’s legs started to shake. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Dovepaw eyed him warily. “Are you hurt?”

“Just tired.” The fight had crushed all the energy from him, and he found himself leaning on Dovepaw as they headed back. He hardly saw where they walked, letting Dovepaw lead. When the scent of the hollow began to touch his muzzle, he paused. The snow felt wonderfully cold against his stinging claws.

“Just let me get my breath back,” he meowed to Dovepaw.

Her eyes were dark. “Are you sure you’re not wounded? You’re covered in blood.”

As Lionblaze gazed down at his pelt, a shriek ripped the air. He stiffened and looked up to see Cinderheart staring at him. Her face was frozen, her eyes wild with horror. “Lionblaze?”

She dashed toward him, sniffing frantically. “What happened? Where are you hurt?” Then she turned and ran. “I’ll get help!” she screeched over her shoulder.

Lionblaze wanted to chase after her and reassure her that it wasn’t his blood, but his paws were still heavy and his mind thick with exhaustion. Blood dripped from his pelt, turning the snow below him crimson. Cinderheart was going to send panic through the Clan.

“We’d better hurry,” he grunted.

“Clean yourself up first,” Dovepaw advised.

Lionblaze lapped at his pelt, gagging at the slimy nettle tang of the fox’s blood.

“Roll yourself in the snow,” Dovepaw suggested.

Lionblaze lay down and wriggled as hard as he could in the cold wet snow. When he clambered to his paws, a wide patch of red stained the white forest floor.

Dovepaw plucked at the ground. “Let’s hope we get back before a rescue patrol arrives.”

Lionblaze felt his energy returning. The snow had refreshed him, and now his heart quickened as he imagined Cinderheart yowling through the camp that he’d been horribly injured.

They met the rescue patrol on the slope outside the hollow.

“Are you all right?” Firestar headed the patrol. Brambleclaw, Graystripe, and Birchfall paced around them, ears and tails twitching.

“What in the name of StarClan happened to you?” Graystripe sniffed warily at Lionblaze.

“We met the fox,” Lionblaze growled.

Birchfall flattened his ears. “Where?” He scanned the trees.

“We’ve chased it out of our territory,” Lionblaze reassured them. “It won’t come back.”

Graystripe guided Lionblaze toward the thorn barrier with his tail. “We’d better get you to the medicine den. Cinderheart’s already helping Jayfeather prepare herbs for you. She made it sound like you were on your last legs.”

Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched as he imagined Jayfeather muttering under his breath while Cinderheart insisted he unpack all his herbs for wounds that would prove to be nonexistent.

Firestar glanced at Dovepaw. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Lionblaze did most of the fighting,” she mewed. “I just helped guide it off our land.”

“It didn’t stray onto ShadowClan’s territory?” Firestar’s tail twitched.

“No,” Lionblaze told him. “We drove it up toward the mountains.” Why was Firestar always so concerned about the other Clans? They should deal with their own problems.

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “We’d better check.” He turned to Brambleclaw. “Fetch a patrol and go and make sure the fox has definitely gone.”

Brambleclaw bounded back to camp.

“Come on.” Graystripe nudged Lionblaze gently toward the hollow. “Let’s get you home.”

As they entered camp, Lionblaze saw his Clanmates gathered around the clearing.

“Well done, Lionblaze!” Ferncloud called.

Mousefur shook her graying head. “They’ll be telling this story in the elders’ den long after I’ve left it.”

“How did you do it?” Sorreltail stared at Lionblaze in undisguised admiration.

“Are you hurt badly?” Daisy was frowning.

Graystripe prodded Lionblaze toward the medicine den. “Enough questions. Let Jayfeather check him over first.”

Pushing through the brambles, Lionblaze was relieved to be in the peace of the medicine den. Cinderheart looked up sharply as he entered, a pile of herbs at her paws.

“Are you really okay?” she rasped. “I thought they might have to carry you back.” The words caught in her throat.

Jayfeather padded forward. “I’ve had Cinderheart mixing herbs ready to treat you.” He nodded to the gray she-cat. “Thanks for your help, but you can go now. I’ll need quiet to treat him properly.”

Cinderheart’s ears twitched. “I could help,” she offered.

“No,” Jayfeather told her firmly. “Thank you.” He fixed his sightless blue gaze on her until she dipped her head and padded toward the brambles.

Briarlight was straining in her nest, craning to see Lionblaze. “I thought you were dead by the way she was carrying on.”

Jayfeather tossed her a ball of moss. “Do your exercises,” he ordered.

Briarlight grunted but dutifully began to toss the moss ball from one paw to the other, stretching farther and farther each time to keep it in the air.

Jayfeather led Lionblaze to the back of the den. “Are you happy now that you’re everyone’s hero?” he asked sharply.

“It had to be done.” Lionblaze felt stung.

“Not by you alone.”

Lionblaze bristled. “The fox has gone,” he hissed. “No one’s hurt.”

“Well, you can be the one to explain how that happened.”

“Can’t you just clean me up and smear a bit of ointment on me to make it look convincing?”

Jayfeather sighed. “Okay.” He led Lionblaze toward the pool at the side of the den and began to wash him with moss soaked in the icy water.

Exhausted by the fight, Lionblaze let Jayfeather clean his fur. But the quarrel with Dovepaw lingered in his mind.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t stop Ivypaw from going to the Dark Forest?” he whispered, one eye on Briarlight, still busy juggling in her nest. “Dovepaw’s worried about her.”

“Ivypaw’s okay.” Jayfeather dipped a fresh wad of moss into the pool. “She hasn’t come to me with any of her injuries and she hasn’t shown any sign of disloyalty to ThunderClan. We might as well use her to keep an eye on Tigerstar.”

“Then we should speak to her,” Lionblaze reasoned.

“And tell her what? To start spying?” Jayfeather swabbed Lionblaze’s ears roughly. “Remember what happened when you asked Dovepaw to spy for us? Let’s wait, then talk to her. She’ll have more to tell us, and she won’t feel like we’re using her.”

Lionblaze grunted and closed his eyes, resting until Jayfeather had finished.

“These should convince our Clanmates that you at least got a scratch or two.” Jayfeather rubbed a final blob of chewed herbs between Lionblaze’s shoulder blades.

Briarlight’s moss ball came sailing across the den and landed at Lionblaze’s paws. He scooped it up and threw it back.

“Are you okay now?” Briarlight asked.

“Fresh as a newborn kit,” Lionblaze told her.

Jayfeather snorted and started bundling away the herbs he’d unpacked from his store.

“Thanks, Jay,” Lionblaze murmured.

Jayfeather didn’t look up. “Would there be any point in telling you to be a bit more careful next time?” he muttered. “We don’t know for sure how far your powers stretch.”

Lionblaze touched his nose to the top of Jayfeather’s head. “Okay.” He headed for the entrance. “See you later, Briarlight,” he called as he nosed his way through the brambles.

Cinderheart was waiting outside. She hurried toward him and started sniffing at the streaks of ointment. “I wasn’t sure you’d be out so soon. . . .” Her mew trailed away, and she sniffed harder. “I can only smell the ointment,” she meowed slowly. “I don’t smell blood.”

Lionblaze edged away from her. “Jayfeather used some strong herbs,” he meowed. “They block most of the scent.”

Her eyes grew round. “You sound like nothing happened today.” Was that irritation in her mew? “You just took on a fox, single-pawed. You were drenched in blood.”

Lionblaze shrugged. “I’ve been trained to fight.”

“You looked like you were bleeding to death!” Anguish shone in her eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Lionblaze pressed his muzzle to her cheek. “You’ll never lose me,” he promised, his heart pricking with guilt.

“No!” Cinderheart flinched away from him. “I can’t do this. I can’t feel this way every time you go into battle.”

“Don’t say that!” Lionblaze’s heart lurched. “All warriors go into battle. But that doesn’t stop them from having mates.”

“Most warriors don’t hurl themselves right into the middle of every battle, or go out hunting foxes while everyone’s asleep!”

“But I’m okay! Look at me!”

“You can’t be!” Cinderheart stared at him, her eyes glazing. “All that blood!” Her tail trembled.

Lionblaze checked the clearing. Dustpelt was organizing hunting patrols. Daisy was washing a complaining Cherrykit while Molekit scrambled up her broad cream back. Berrynose and Hazeltail were busy weaving birch stems into the torn barrier.

No one was listening.

“I need to tell you something,” he whispered to Cinderheart. Wrapping his tail around her shoulders, he led her into the bramble patch beside the medicine den. Ducking between the tangled branches, he beckoned with his tail for her to follow. She crept in after him, eyes wide with curiosity.

“There’s something you need to understand.” Lionblaze stared straight at her. “Something that will reassure you that I won’t ever be hurt.”

She blinked at him.

“I can’t be wounded,” he blurted out.

She snorted. “You’ve certainly been lucky so far.”

“No!” Lionblaze shook his head. “There was a prophecy, many moons ago. It was given to Firestar. It was about cats who’d have more power than any others in all the Clans.”

Cinderheart tipped her head to one side, listening.

“I’m one of them. I’m one of those cats. I can’t get hurt. That’s my power. Not in battle, not with foxes, not by anything.” He stared at her, willing her to understand. To believe what he was saying.

Cinderheart sat back and stared at him. “There’s a prophecy?” she murmured. “About you?”

Lionblaze nodded. She understood!

“And you’ll never get hurt.” Cinderheart glanced at the ointment smears again.

“No.”

“So that you can protect the Clan.”

“Yes.” Lionblaze leaned forward, relieved that she’d taken it all so calmly. “You never need to worry about me again.” He ran his cheek along hers, his heart warming at her scent. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“No!” She jerked away and backed out of the brambles, her eyes glittering with grief. “We can’t do this. I can’t be your mate. Not if StarClan has given you this power.”

Lionblaze’s blood froze. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You have a much greater destiny than me!” Cinderheart whispered. “We can’t do this anymore!” With a wail she turned and fled toward the warriors’ den.

Chapter 14

Jayfeather began to scoop up the herbs littering the den floor. What a waste. He’d used the commonest leaves to patch Lionblaze’s “wounds,” but even nettle stem and tansy would be hard to replace now that the snows had come. Last night, Brightheart and Leafpool had returned with only a few pawfuls of mallow and thyme. It had taken them half a day to find that much.

“Millie!”

Briarlight’s mew jerked Jayfeather back into the present. His mouth watered at the sweet scent of mouse.

“I brought you some fresh-kill.” Millie dropped it beside Briarlight’s nest. “I thought you might be hungry. You ate hardly anything this morning.”

“I told you,” Briarlight muttered. “I’m not hungry.”

Millie began to tear the mouse apart. “Try a morsel.”

“That’s not going to make me hungry,” Briarlight snapped.

“Just eat a little of it,” Millie coaxed.

“I’m not hungry!”

Jayfeather padded to Briarlight’s nest. He touched his nose to her muzzle. It was damp but not warm. She wasn’t running a fever. But her mind was a whirl of worry and guilt.

“Has her chest infection come back?” Millie asked anxiously.

“Leave the fresh-kill with me,” Jayfeather suggested. “I’ll check her over and see if I can persuade her to eat something.”

Millie stayed beside her kit’s nest. “I want to know if she’s okay.”

“Go back to the hollow.” Jayfeather suspected that it would be easier to find out what was troubling the young warrior without Millie hovering. “It’ll give me more room to examine her.”

Millie hesitated.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I know anything,” he promised. He felt reluctance weighing Millie’s paws as she padded out of the den.

“I don’t know why she has to fuss over me so much,” Briarlight huffed as soon as she was gone.

“Don’t you?” Jayfeather didn’t wait for a reply. He leaned forward and sniffed her breath. It was clean and fresh. No sign of infection. He laid a paw on her chest. “Breathe in as deeply as you can.” Her breath was deep and clear.

“So, no appetite, eh?” He sensed stubbornness stiffening her pelt and felt the fierce ache of hunger in her belly.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“What?”

Jayfeather felt surprise flash from the young cat. “You might be able to fool Millie, but not me. Do you really think it’s fair to make her worry just because you’ve gotten it into your head that you don’t deserve food because you can’t hunt?”

“What are you talking about?” Embarrassment glowed hotly from the young warrior.

Jayfeather softened his tone. “I know you think you’re being fair.” He settled down beside her nest. “But it’s not that simple.”

Briarlight turned her head away. “I don’t hunt. I shouldn’t eat.”

“Daisy doesn’t hunt,” Jayfeather pointed out. “Should she starve?”

“She looks after the kits!” Briarlight grunted.

“What about when you keep them amused by playing moss-ball with them while Daisy rests?”

“Any cat could do that.”

“What about Purdy and Mousefur, then?” Jayfeather pressed. “They don’t hunt.”

“They’re old; they’ve hunted enough for the Clan.”

“But they can’t hunt anymore. Why don’t we let them die now?”

Shock pulsed from the young cat. “We couldn’t! They’re part of the Clan. It’s our duty to look after them.” Her nest rustled beneath her paws. “Besides, the Clan wouldn’t be the same without them.”

Jayfeather left a small silence for her to hear her own words. Then he mewed, “Do you think the Clan would be the same without you?”

She didn’t answer.

“The Clan brings you fresh-kill because they think you deserve it, and because looking after their Clanmates is what makes them warriors. They are proud to help you.”

“I just wish there was something I could do to help them back.” Emotion choked Briarlight’s mew.

“Okay.” Jayfeather sat up. “Come on. Out of that nest.”

Fur brushed twigs as Briarlight hauled herself out.

“If helping look after Molekit and Cherrykit isn’t enough work for you, there’s plenty you can do here.” He swept his tail around the medicine den. “I like to keep balls of moss piled beside the pool so that I can soak them if I need water for washing wounds or quenching the thirst of a sick cat. Brightheart usually brings me fresh moss every few days. From now on it’s your job to check it for splinters or thorns, then divide it into balls and stack it by the pool.”

“Okay.” Jayfeather felt Briarlight’s spirits lifting. “What else?”

“Keep the den floor clean,” he ordered. “We have just about every cat in the Clan coming and going at the moment. My herbs seem to get everywhere. Sweep out any dirt and paw up all stray leaves and pile them next to my store.”

“No problem.”

“And I need to go through my supplies and see what’s running low,” Jayfeather went on. “You can help me.” He padded to the crack in the rock at the back of the den. Sliding into the chilly cleft, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll pass them out; you stack them by the wall. We can go through them together.”

He began to shove out bundle after bundle of herbs. Many were dry and crumbled in his paws. Reaching to the back, he felt something downy beneath his paw. Hooking it with his claw, he pulled out a scrap of fur. He sniffed it, his heart quickening. Hollyleaf! How had her fur gotten here? Had she returned from the dead?

Don’t be mouse-brained!

She’d been Leafpool’s apprentice once. It must have lodged in a corner then and been there ever since. The warm familiar scent of his sister flooded his heart. For a moment he was back in the nursery, squirming and fighting with Lionkit and Hollykit while Ferncloud sniffed disapprovingly.

Catch this, Jaykit!

Hollykit’s a slow slug!

“Jayfeather?” A voice summoned him from his thoughts.

“That’s all there is, Briarlight.” Jayfeather tucked Hollyleaf’s fur into a crack in the rock.

“Jayfeather!” the voice called again.

“Start piling the matching leaves together, Briarlight. I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Jayfeather.” This time warm breath stirred his ear fur.

He jumped around, his pelt scraping the rock. No one was there. Yet the scent of another cat hung heavy in the air.

Yellowfang!

He squeezed out of the cleft. Briarlight was beside the far wall, sifting through the herbs. “I’m matching the leaves,” she called.

“Good, good.” Jayfeather circled warily, tasting the air. The frosty chill was thick with her scent. Why had Yellowfang come here? It was half-moon. He’d be sharing dreams with her at the Moonpool tonight. Why come now?

“Come with me.” Her rasping mew sounded behind him. “Don’t worry; no one can hear me except you.”

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“Visiting you.”

Briarlight paused. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Jayfeather meowed hurriedly. “I—I’ve got to go out for a while. Keep matching the leaves. I’ll be back soon.” He followed Yellowfang’s scent out of the den and across the clearing.

“Couldn’t you have waited till tonight?” he snapped once they were clear of the hollow.

“Do you think I wanted to leave StarClan and come to this freezing place?”

A faint outline shimmered in front of Jayfeather’s eyes. He could see Yellowfang’s ragged pelt now, and the fuzzy outlines of trees behind her.

“Then why did you come?” Jayfeather’s paws ached from the snow.

“You needed to know this before you met with the others at the Moonpool!”

“Okay, okay,” Jayfeather muttered. “Just tell me, and we can both go home.”

“I saw Lionblaze fight the fox,” Yellowfang rasped.

“And?”

“It was a sign.”

“A sign of what? That he’s a mouse-brain?”

“He fought it alone.”

“Yeah. I know. He’s a mouse-brain,” Jayfeather repeated. His teeth were starting to chatter. “Can you get to the point?”

Yellowfang’s stinking breath billowed around his muzzle as she leaned close. “Stop complaining and start listening,” she hissed. “Like Lionblaze, ThunderClan must fight alone.”

“When?”

“When the Dark Forest rises, ThunderClan must face its greatest enemy alone.”

Jayfeather blinked. “But the Dark Forest threatens every Clan.”

“Only one Clan will survive,” Yellowfang growled. “Yesterday four patrols could not drive the fox from your territory. Today Lionblaze sent it fleeing for its life. In the great battle that is coming, ThunderClan must fight alone.”

“But the Dark Forest warriors are training cats from every Clan,” Jayfeather reminded her.

“So every Clan might betray you!”

“But we’re all in danger. Surely we have to fight together?”

“Why do the Three belong to ThunderClan and no other Clan?” Yellowfang’s amber eyes burned. “It must be ThunderClan’s destiny to survive while others perish.”

What? There have to be four Clans! Around them, the cold wind whipped the snow into drifts. “Yellowfang!”

The old cat was fading, and with her his dream-vision. Jayfeather was plunged once more into blackness.

As the dusk patrol returned and settled down to share tongues, Jayfeather slipped out of the medicine den.

“Good luck!” Millie called as he padded softly around the clearing.

“Take care,” Briarlight added.

The young warrior was sharing a scrawny robin with her littermates, and Jayfeather could sense the relief washing over Millie’s pelt. He hadn’t told her why Briarlight had refused to eat, but Millie hadn’t asked. When the gray warrior had come to the medicine den to check on her kit and found her gulping down the mouse, paws stained with herbs, she’d been delighted.

“Keep her busy,” Jayfeather had advised. “She still has two paws, and they’ll get restless if they’re given nothing to do.”

Lionblaze and Dovepaw were yet again describing the miraculous defeat of the fox to their Clanmates. No one seemed to notice that the story changed a tiny bit in every telling. Rosepetal and Foxleap were begging for every detail.

“What was your winning move?”

“How did you avoid its teeth?”

Jayfeather hadn’t told them about his vision. He wanted to visit the Moonpool first. He wanted to see if the rest of StarClan agreed with Yellowfang. He slipped through the barrier of thorns, leaving the voices of his Clanmates behind.

As he broke from the trees, the moorland wind pierced his fur. Flattening his ears against it, he bounded along the slope to the dip where the medicine cats met before traveling together to the Moonpool. His paws sank deep into snow. It reached his belly where it had drifted, and he was breathless by the time he scented Kestrelflight and Willowshine.

“Not good traveling weather,” he called to them.

“At least it’s stopped snowing,” Kestrelflight responded.

Willowshine shook out her fish-scented fur. “Can we go now? It’s freezing.”

“Where are Littlecloud and Flametail?” Jayfeather tasted the air but there was no scent of the ShadowClan medicine cats.

“They’ll have to catch up.” Willowshine was already heading away. “It’s too cold to sit still.”

Snow crunched as Kestrelflight fell into step beside the RiverClan medicine cat. “Hopefully our tracks will make their path easier.”

Their tracks certainly helped Jayfeather. He followed the furrow the others carved in the snow, but even so, keeping his balance on the rocky shores of the stream took all his concentration. He had no chance to focus on the thoughts of his companions. By the time he’d scrambled up the cliff and hauled himself into the hollow, he was panting.

Willowshine was standing on the lip of the hollow. “No sign of Littlecloud or Flametail,” she declared. “I hope there’s no trouble in ShadowClan.”

“We’ll find out soon enough if there is,” Kestrelflight answered.

“Should we wait?” Willowshine wondered.

Jayfeather was already following the path that spiraled down to the Moonpool. “If you can’t see them on the trail by now, they’re not coming.” Snow covered the dimples in the rock where countless paw steps had passed before him.

“Is the Moonpool frozen?” Kestrelflight hurried after him.

Jayfeather touched it with a paw, relieved to feel it ripple softly against his fur. “No.” The hollow must have sheltered the water from the coldest winds. He sank down in the snow and waited for Kestrelflight and Willowshine to settle beside the pool.

“I hope Littlecloud and Flametail are all right,” Willowshine fretted. Her fur brushed against the snow as she rested her chin on her paws and touched her nose to the water. Kestrelflight’s breathing had already slowed. They would both be in trances before long.

Jayfeather waited. There was no need for him to walk in his own dreams tonight. Yellowfang had already spoken to him. Focusing on Kestrelflight, he let his mind flow into the young WindClan cat’s dreams.

Wind tugged his fur, warm and playful. Jayfeather looked around, blinking at the sweep of sky and land before him. He was standing on the arching spine of a rocky hilltop. Forested slopes fell away in front of his paws. Far away the trees darkened toward a shadowy horizon. Is that the Dark Forest?

Voices sounded below the crest of the slope, and Jayfeather quickly scooted behind a boulder. As the voices grew nearer, Jayfeather peered around the side. Kestrelflight was walking beside Barkface. The raddled old WindClan medicine cat hung his head and dragged his tail as though the sky weighed heavily on his back. Another WindClan cat walked beside them. Jayfeather squinted. He didn’t recognize the light brown she-cat with ginger patches and eyes bluer than the lake in greenleaf.

“Explain it to him, Daisytail,” Barkface meowed gruffly. “I knew he wouldn’t believe me alone.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Kestrelflight objected. “It’s just hard to take in.”

The she-cat spoke, her voice as spirited as the wind lifting Jayfeather’s pelt. “I stood up for my Clanmates once so that I could protect their future. I led the queens against a leader who believed kits should be trained before they were six moons.” Her eyes clouded, and Jayfeather felt pride and grief battling in her heart. “There comes a time when we must stand and fight.”

“But I’m a medicine cat,” Kestrelflight reminded her. “I follow a different code than a warrior.”

“Everything is changing,” Barkface growled. “WindClan’s greatest battle is coming. We cannot let the treachery of other Clans sap our strengths.”

“We must stand alone,” Daisytail insisted.

Why? Jayfeather frowned. Four patrols could not drive the fox from our territory. Today Lionblaze sent it fleeing for its life. Was Yellowfang’s prophecy true?

“You must trust in your ancestors, not in other Clans,” Barkface warned. “The past will be your strength, not the present.”

Kestrelflight looked ruffled. “But who will this battle be against? Why must we fight alone? Tallstar never saw any weakness in allying the Clan with others to make it stronger.”

Daisytail narrowed her eyes. “Tallstar was blinded by friendships,” she mewed pointedly. Jayfeather wondered if she was referring to the long friendship between Firestar and the WindClan leader.

Kestrelflight searched Barkface’s gaze. “Is that who we’ll be fighting? Another Clan?”

“You don’t know your enemy yet,” he rasped. “But you’ll know them when the time comes.”

Jayfeather felt the fur on his neck prickle. Why not tell him? Shouldn’t he know that his Clan was going to face an army of the most dark-hearted warriors ever to have walked forest, moor, or stream?

Daisytail padded into Kestrelflight’s path, blocking his way. “Don’t tell any of the other medicine cats about this,” she warned.

Kestrelflight blinked. “Won’t they already know?”

“Betrayal could come from anywhere,” Barkface growled. “You must stand alone, knowing your ancestors walk with you, and you alone.”

Daisytail jerked her head around and tasted the air. Jayfeather ducked back behind the rock. Had she smelled him? Taking no risks, he backed away down a short, steep slope, flinching as pebbles clattered down beside him. He slid into a narrow gully and followed it quickly away from the hilltop. The rocky channel wound down, cutting ever deeper into the hillside. Jayfeather quickened his step until the slopes of the gully began to smooth into grassy banks. Soon he was following a stony path that opened onto a pebbly shore beside a stream.

Willows drooped over its banks. Ferns clustered at the water’s edge. Instinctively, Jayfeather headed for cover. This was not his dream. Keeping to the ferns, he headed downstream until he caught sight of a rock. Wide and flat, it broke from the water and split the current around it. He recognized Willowshine’s gray tabby pelt silhouetted on the rock, and beside her, Mudfur, the ancient RiverClan medicine cat. Graypool sat with them, paws rooted to the stone even when water splashed and lapped at them.

“You must stand alone,” Mudfur ordered.

Jayfeather pricked his ears harder. The rushing of the stream drowned their words.

“. . . ancestors will walk with you . . .” Graypool was staring intently at Willowshine.

Willowshine bristled. “. . . cats have always helped each . . .”

Graypool shook her head. “. . . have changed. We must change too. . . .”

“Can I tell Mothwing?”

Graypool flashed a glance at Mudfur. “She won’t believe you, but you can tell her.”

Mudfur dipped his head. “She’s a good medicine cat. She will protect her Clanmates through this terrible battle.”

“Please,” Willowshine begged. “What is this battle? Who will we be fighting?”

Jayfeather saw the older cats shake their heads. The stream washed around them.

“. . . more terrible than your worst nightmares . . .”

“. . . darker than you can dream of . . .”

“. . . a river of blood . . .”

Willowshine leaned away from them, her whiskers quivering with fear.

Angry now, Jayfeather slid through the ferns, away from the water’s edge. It seemed like every cat in StarClan was in a state of panic! Did they really think that dividing the Clans and crippling them with fear would help? He must share what he knew with the other medicine cats. They faced a real enemy.

“Do you believe me now?”

Jayfeather jerked to a halt as Yellowfang blocked his path.

“All four Clans must stand alone,” she hissed. “The Dark Forest moves among them. You can’t trust anyone. Why do you think the ShadowClan cats stayed away from the Moonpool tonight? They have abandoned you already. And WindClan and RiverClan will abandon you now.”

“Not if I tell them what’s really going on.”

Yellowfang sprang at him, bowling him over. “No!” She pressed him hard to the ground. “Can’t you read the signs? Lionblaze beat the fox single-pawed!” she hissed. “If you don’t keep quiet, all four Clans will be lost to the darkness.”

Struggling, Jayfeather blinked open his eyes and found himself beside the Moonpool, his vision black once more. Fur brushed snow. Kestrelflight was heading away up the path. Willowshine was already at the top, walking quickly as if she didn’t want to speak to her companions. Was the bond between medicine cats so easily broken?

Jayfeather scrambled to his paws. He had to warn them. “The Dark Forest—”

Crackling silenced him. Ice splintered behind him, echoing around the walls of the hollow. Jayfeather turned, and his vision was flooded with starlight. The Moonpool was freezing over, ice spreading like fire through grass, reaching over the water until the whole pool was white.

Jayfeather stared around the hollow. Hope flared in his chest. Cats of StarClan lined the glittering walls. The ranks of star-pelted warriors sat silent and still. Jayfeather looked more closely. Was that Rock among them? Jayfeather recognized the ancient, hairless cat with a surge of joy. Had he come to help StarClan? Perhaps he’d changed their minds? Perhaps the cats of StarClan were going to face the Dark Forest together after all?

As he watched, pleading silently for some kind of sign, he saw the hollow start to whiten. One after another, the StarClan warriors turned to ice, their fur glistening, their whiskers stiffening, before shattering into cruel, prickling shards in the cold, dead moonlight.

Only Rock remained. He stared blankly at Jayfeather, his bulging blind eyes as frosted as the Moonpool.

Chapter 15

Ivypaw opened her eyes. Mouse dung! It was night, and she was still in the apprentices’ den. She wanted to be in the Dark Forest. She wanted to perfect the complicated move that Hawkfrost had shown her last night. She pricked her ears.

Silence. Dovepaw wasn’t in her nest.

Ivypaw sighed and rolled over. Did Dovepaw think no one was going to notice her disappearing night after night, returning just before the dawn patrol and pretending to wake in her nest as though she’d never been gone?

I know what you’re up to. Ivypaw tucked her nose under her tail. You’re sneaking off to practice by yourself in the woods. You’ve realized that I’m better than you, and you don’t like it.

It was Dovepaw’s turn to play catch-up, for a change.

Ivypaw closed her eyes and pictured Mapleshade’s move. If I put a hind paw there and a forepaw there . . . Her thoughts drifted into a dream.

“Get back, Thornclaw! You might get hurt.” She growled at her Clanmate and turned to face the ShadowClan patrol alone. With a single paw, she sent Oakfur flying over her shoulder, then lunged at Smokefoot, kicking out with her hind legs to scratch Crowfrost’s snapping muzzle.

Pain tore through her dream as two spiked paws gripped her shoulders. The ShadowClan warriors vanished from her thoughts. This enemy wasn’t imagined. The sting of claws in her flesh was real. Ivypaw swallowed a wail of pain as they hooked her pelt and flung her to the ground.

“That’ll teach you to pay attention!”

Thistleclaw’s rancid breath hit her nose. The Dark Forest swam into focus. With her muzzle pressed into the dank earth, she could just make out the shadowy trunks through the hanging mist.

“Get off me!” she screeched.

“I don’t know if begging works on the battlefield.” Thistleclaw dug his claws deeper into her neck.

Panicking, Ivypaw flapped her hind legs. Her paws hit something solid. It must be a root. She pushed against it, thrusting herself forward. Thistleclaw flinched, gasping. In a moment she was on her paws and rearing up at the tabby warrior, claws unsheathed, a snarl curling her lip.

“Very good.” Hawkfrost’s approving growl echoed nearby.

Ivypaw glanced sideways as he stalked from the trees. Suddenly she didn’t care about the stinging of her neck or the welling of blood on her fur. Hawkfrost had praised her.

Thistleclaw hissed at her, his back arched and his teeth bared. “You’ll be watching for me next time,” he snarled.

Ivypaw met his stare. “You might want to start watching for me,” she spat. “I won’t be an apprentice forever.” Her gaze darted back to Hawkfrost. “He’s always picking on the apprentices,” she hissed. “Why don’t you give him one of his own so he might leave the rest of us alone?”

Hawkfrost’s eyes glinted. “Do you want me to give him you?”

Ivypaw lashed her tail. At that moment, she felt ready to take on anything. “If you want. But then you’d have to find a new apprentice and start from scratch.”

Amusement lit the tabby warrior’s eyes. “I guess I would,” he conceded.

“I used to have my own apprentice,” Thistleclaw muttered. “She didn’t pass the final assessment.”

In spite of her burst of confidence, Ivypaw shivered. Something in his tone suggested that failing to pass the assessment meant something more final than trying again after more training.

“Come on, ’paw.” Hawkfrost dismissed Thistleclaw with a curt nod and turned his attention to Ivypaw. “We’re practicing water fighting tonight.”

“Why?” Ivypaw asked as she followed him between the trees. “I’m not a RiverClan cat.”

“But you may fight one someday.” Hawkfrost flicked his tail. “Hurry up. They’re waiting on the shore.”

Ivypaw caught sight of pelts through the trees. Antpelt sat with his tail curled over his paws. Beside him was Shredtail. Hollowpaw, a RiverClan apprentice she recognized from Gatherings, paced beside Snowtuft. Ivypaw looked for the river but saw nothing beyond the warriors except shadow. She pricked her ears but only heard the wind whining softly through bare branches. “Where’s the river?”

Hawkfrost halted as he reached the other cats. “There.”

Ivypaw stared at the flood of dark liquid sliding silently past them. “That’s a river?”

A strange sickly stench rose from it. Hollowpaw wrinkled his nose. “It’s the best they’ve got.”

“This should be funny.” Antpelt scowled at Ivypaw. “I’ve never seen a ThunderClan cat get wet.”

“And I suppose WindClan is always splashing around in the lake,” she shot back. She glanced through the trees. “Is Tigerheart here?” She kept her tone casual. She didn’t want anyone to guess how much she wanted to see the ShadowClan warrior. The thought of getting her pelt wet, especially in that sludgy river, woke butterflies in her belly. She felt safer around Tigerheart. Like the time when they’d trained on the tree trunk and Thistleclaw had knocked Sparrowfeather to the ground.

She frowned, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t seen Sparrowfeather since.

Hawkfrost strode to the riverbank. “Are you ready?”

Ivypaw stiffened.

“Before we try it in the water, I’ll show you what we’re going to practice.” Hawkfrost beckoned Antpelt to step forward.

The WindClan warrior lifted his chin and stood stiffly in front of the dark-furred tom. With a quick, low lunge, Hawkfrost knocked Antpelt’s hind legs out from under him. Antpelt stumbled and scrabbled back onto all four paws.

A shadow slid from the trees. “Easy to recover on dry land.” It was Darkstripe. “But in running water, it’s not so easy to regain your balance.”

Ivypaw’s fur pricked. She didn’t like Darkstripe. There was something sly about the skinny black-and-silver warrior that made her nervous. He’d once bitten Tigerheart after they had finished a training match, and then denied it.

Hawkfrost greeted Darkstripe with a brisk nod and went on. “When you’re in the water, it’s best to keep your claws tucked in. It may feel more natural to try and grip the riverbed, but loose stones rolled by the current may catch a claw and rip it out.”

Ivypaw shuddered.

Hawkfrost flicked his tail. “Antpelt, try the move out on Shredtail in the water.”

Antpelt padded tentatively into the thick, slow-flowing river. He waded up to his belly, then farther, until the water reached his shoulders. It slapped against him, making a sound unlike any water Ivypaw had heard before.

“Snowtuft, you work with Hollowpaw,” Hawkfrost ordered.

Snowtuft nodded, eyes glinting in the half-light.

Hollowpaw waded in. “This isn’t water!” he grumbled. “It’s too slimy.”

Snowtuft shoved the RiverClan apprentice with his muzzle. Hollowpaw stumbled, losing his footing. His shoulders dipped blow the surface as he struggled to find his paws, but he kept his nose high and clear of the dark water.

Ivypaw scanned the forest, wishing Tigerheart would come. She hadn’t seen the young ShadowClan warrior for several nights. Had he been training in a different part of the forest?

Darkstripe blocked her view. “I’ll partner with Ivypaw if you like, Hawkfrost.” He shrugged. “Since you’re supervising.”

Ivypaw straightened and lifted her chin. “Okay.” She waded into the shallows, hoping the cold water would soothe the stinging scratches on her neck. She was dismayed to find it flowing warm and thick around her legs, tugging at her fur like invisible weeds. She grimaced as she headed deeper, trying to glimpse the riverbed through the murky water.

Darkstripe slid through the water beside her. “Come on, slow slug.”

Ivypaw pushed on, shuddering as the slimy water seeped through her pelt and touched her flesh. It rose up past her belly and swallowed her shoulders. She was straining every muscle now, fighting the current to stay standing. She wished she were taller. Darkstripe’s spine was hardly covered, while she struggled to keep her head above water.

Suddenly a stone rocked beneath her paws, and she slipped. The water sucked her under before she could take a breath. Paws churning, Ivypaw panicked.

It’s not that deep, she told herself sharply, and struck out, finding the riverbed with her paws. Her head broke the surface, whiskers dripping, eyes streaming. She spat out the water she’d nearly swallowed. It tasted rank, like crow-food but worse.

Darkstripe watched her, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I can see you’re no RiverClan cat,” he meowed smoothly.

“And I wouldn’t want to be!” Ivypaw’s defiant reply was ruined as she lost her footing again and slipped under the water once more. She struggled, reaching for the bottom, but a lithe shape slid beneath her and knocked her hind legs from under her just as Hawkfrost had demonstrated.

Darkstripe! He’d started the training before she’d had a chance to take a breath.

Ivypaw rolled in the current and floundered with her paws flailing. She fought the urge to breathe in, but her lungs ached for air. Then a paw pressed down on her spine, and she was trapped on the bottom of the river. The water flowed over her. Panic swelled in her chest. She had to breathe. She tried to struggle, but Darkstripe pressed harder, pushing the last gasp of breath from her.

StarClan, help me!

A shadow moved beside her, just recognizable through the muddy water. It was the pale, sleek-furred belly of a RiverClan cat.

Hollowpaw!

The apprentice grabbed Ivypaw’s scruff and heaved her clear of Darkstripe’s paws. Through the murk, Ivypaw could make out the shadowy outline of the Dark Forest warrior fishing around the riverbed with swiping paws. Close beside her, Hollowpaw signaled toward Darkstripe’s hind legs with his muzzle, bubbles spilling from his nose. Ivypaw understood. Though her lungs screamed for air, her panic had faded. She could last a little longer. Together they turned and pulled themselves along the riverbed like a pair of otters and knocked Darkstripe’s hind paws out from beneath him.

As he collapsed into the water, Ivypaw shot skyward and broke the surface, gasping. Hollowpaw bobbed up next to her, and they shared a yowl of triumph. Downstream, the water splashed and frothed as Darkstripe struggled to find his footing.

As Darkstripe fought his way clumsily upstream to join them, Hollowpaw whispered to Ivypaw, “Stay clear of his paws.” Then the RiverClan apprentice swam back toward Snowtuft.

Ivypaw called innocently to Darkstripe, “Do you want to try the move out on me?”

The tabby warrior narrowed his eyes. Water dribbled from his chin. “Okay.” Was that wariness in his gaze?

Ivypaw leaned into the current, bracing her paws against a rock on the riverbed. She wasn’t going to cheat. She waited for Darkstripe to take a breath and prepared to feel his paws knock out her hind legs. As he pulled them out from under her, she darted forward like a fish, escaping his reach. She didn’t even go under.

Amazed that she felt so at ease in the warm, greasy water, she turned, ready to try the move again on Darkstripe. Utterly focused now, she swiped his paws from under him and swam clear in one clean, quick move. She felt a surge of pride. No other ThunderClan warrior was trained to fight in water.

Breaking the surface, she saw Hawkfrost beckoning the trainees from the bank with his thick, mackerel-striped tail. “Not bad,” he called as they padded, drenched, from the river.

Ivypaw shook out her pelt, not caring that she sprayed Darkstripe.

“Though I expected better of you, Darkstripe,” Hawkfrost sneered at the skinny warrior. “I would have thought you could hold your own against an untrained apprentice.”

Darkstripe snorted and slunk away into the trees.

“Ivypaw?” Tigerstar’s mew made her jump. She jerked around to see the dark warrior slide from the water and pad up the bank.

“All ThunderClan cats should learn to get their paws wet.” He shook out his pelt. “You had some nice moves there.”

Ivypaw dipped her head. “Thanks.”

“Have you seen Tigerheart?”

The question took her by surprise. “Me?” Did Tigerstar know that she always kept her eyes open for the young tom when she was in the forest? “No.”

“He’s late again,” he growled. “He’s been coming later and later every night. Is he sick?”

“I can ask at the next Gathering,” Ivypaw offered. Her ear twitched.

“I’ll track him down.” Tigerstar’s tone made Ivypaw shiver. Was Tigerheart in trouble for staying away?

Hawkfrost cleared his throat. “Time to leave.” Far away through the trees, beyond the edge of the Dark Forest, the sky was lightening. Ivypaw stifled a yawn as she turned and headed away from the river.

“See you tomorrow,” Hollowpaw whispered before vanishing into shadow.

The trees around Ivypaw melted into ferns, and she found herself curled in her nest. She could hear Dovepaw breathing.

She’s back.

But only in the last few moments. Her breathing was fast, as though she’d just settled down, and the scent of snow was fresh on her pelt. Ivypaw’s nose twitched. There was another scent in Dovepaw’s fur, too. A familiar one. Ivypaw tried to remember what it reminded her of, but her eyes were growing heavy. Exhausted, she slid into sleep.

“What’s this?” Whitewing’s shocked mew woke Ivypaw.

She jerked up her head. “What?”

“Blood!” Her mother’s eyes were round. “Blood in your nest.” The white warrior ducked down to sniff at the moss sticking out among the twigs and gasped. “It’s on you, too! Are you hurt?”

Ivypaw flinched away. “What are you doing in here?”

“The dawn patrol left ages ago, and neither of you was up, so I came in to wake you.”

Dovepaw climbed blearily out of her nest. “I guess we’ve been training hard.”

“Is that why there’s blood in your nest?” Whitewing was staring at Ivypaw, her eyes dark with worry.

The ferns rustled, and Bumblestripe poked his head in. “What’s all the noise?” he demanded.

“Get Jayfeather,” Whitewing ordered. “Ivypaw’s hurt.”

“No!” Ivypaw protested, “I’m fine.” But Bumblestripe had already gone.

Ivypaw felt hot under her fur. No one needed to know about the scratches Thistleclaw had left on her neck. She thought the river had washed them clean, but clearly they’d still been oozing when she’d returned from the Dark Forest. She glanced down at the moss. It was dark where blood had soaked it. Her gaze caught Dovepaw’s.

“It must be a thorn in the moss,” Ivypaw mewed quickly.

Come on, Dovepaw! Back me up.

Dovepaw shrugged. “Yeah, a thorn,” she mewed before pushing her way out of the den.

Thanks a lot! Ivypaw was fuming that Dovepaw had left her to calm down their mother by herself. “Maybe there’s a sharp stone in my nest.”

“Let me look.” Whitewing bundled Ivypaw out of the way and began sifting through the moss with her paws. “I can’t feel anything.”

Jayfeather nosed his way into the den, carrying a folded leaf. Bumblestripe and Cinderheart barged in after. Ivypaw backed away from her nest.

Jayfeather dropped the leaf at her paws and opened it. It was smeared with thick green ointment. “Let me check you over,” he ordered.

Ivypaw shuffled away. “It’s just a scratch.” He knows I visit the Dark Forest. He’ll guess this isn’t a thorn scratch.

Cinderheart was sniffing in Ivypaw’s nest. “All that blood from a thorn?”

“This might hurt a bit.” Jayfeather began smearing thick pulp onto Ivypaw’s scruff.

Please don’t tell. Fear throbbed harder than pain.

Jayfeather sighed. “It’s nothing too serious, but I can smell some infection.” He wiped another pawful of pulp from the leaf wrap. “You should be more careful.”

Ivypaw shrank under her pelt. There was an edge in his mew. He knew exactly where she’d gotten the wound.

“Will she be okay?” Cinderheart fretted.

Whitewing pushed closer. “Has the bleeding stopped?”

Go away! Ivypaw’s ears pounded. The cuts were stinging where Jayfeather was rubbing in ointment. Just leave me alone!

“She’ll live.” Jayfeather sat back on his haunches and refolded the leaf. “Come for fresh ointment tonight.” He picked up the leaf in his teeth and headed out of the den.

As he left, Dovepaw slid back in.

“Have you come to watch, too?” Ivypaw snapped.

Dovepaw leaned past Cinderheart into Ivypaw’s nest, rummaged for a moment, and then sat up. “Is this what you were looking for?” She spat a long thorn onto the ground.

Whitewing pawed it gingerly. “No wonder there was so much blood!”

Cinderheart frowned. “How did that get in there without you noticing?”

Ivypaw felt a flood of warmth for her sister. As Dovepaw stretched forward and sniffed at her wounds, Ivypaw whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

Dovepaw grunted. “This isn’t over.” She pulled away.

“Come on.” Whitewing flicked Bumblestripe gently with her tail. “Let’s leave Ivypaw to rest.” She guided the young warrior out of the den. Dovepaw followed, her tail flicking as she disappeared through the ferns.

Cinderheart was staring anxiously at Ivypaw.

“What?” Ivypaw snapped.

Cinderheart sighed. “If those scratches are infected already, they must be deep.”

Ivypaw climbed into her nest. All she wanted to do now was sleep.

Cinderheart’s tail twitched. “You must be tired.” She touched Ivypaw’s head with a gentle paw. Ivypaw felt it tremble.

“Is anything wrong?” Cinderheart whispered, leaning closer. “You can tell me anything, I promise. Those wounds couldn’t have been caused by a thorn. You’d have been awake and out of your nest at the first prick.” She sat back and gazed at Ivypaw. “And a thorn wouldn’t have caused infection so quickly, no matter how deeply it scratched. Besides . . .” She peered at Ivypaw’s wounds. “Thorn scratches don’t rip at the flesh like that.”

Ivypaw had grown stiff as dead prey. What could she say? Her mind whirled while her body froze.

“Tell me the truth,” Cinderheart pressed quietly. “I won’t be angry. I just need to know how I can help you.”

Ivypaw took a deep breath. “I’ve been practicing at night.”

“Practicing?”

“I want to be the best ThunderClan warrior ever.” And I’m going to be!

“Oh.” The word escaped Cinderheart as a sigh. “I understand.” She sounded relieved. “Of course you want to be the best. And you’ve been out in the forest training by yourself.”

“Yes.” Ivypaw cringed. She hated lying to her mentor, who had done nothing but treat her fairly. It’s close to the truth, she told herself. “Dovepaw’s so good at everything. Everybody treats her like a warrior already. Firestar asks her for advice, and Lionblaze never does anything without her . . .”

Cinderheart stiffened. “You’re every bit as good as Dovepaw!” she hissed. “I couldn’t be prouder of you! If you want to do more training, we’ll fit it in during the day. You’re a growing cat; you need your rest.”

Ivypaw nodded dutifully.

“Will you promise me that you won’t go out again at night?” Cinderheart prompted. “There’s no one to look out for you when the Clan’s sleeping. Who knows what might happen? What if that fox came back?” Worry edged her mew. “You’re as good as any warrior. You don’t need to sneak around training in secret.” Cinderheart’s eyes burned into Ivypaw’s. “Promise me you won’t leave the camp at night again!”

Ivypaw stared at her paws, guilt pricking her belly. “I promise,” she muttered.

Chapter 16

Dovepaw barged out of the apprentices’ den after Whitewing and Bumblestripe. Let Cinderheart fuss over her! I found her a thorn. She can explain the rest.

But her rage quickly ebbed. She wasn’t angry. She was scared. Every night she went to sleep wondering what wounds Ivypaw would wake with. And what if Ivypaw started thinking like a Dark Forest warrior? She needed to talk to Jayfeather. He had to help. She headed for his den.

She stalked past the fresh-kill pile, where Purdy was turning over a muddy-looking mouse. “Do you think this will appeal to Mousefur?” he rasped.

Dovepaw paused. “What?”

“It doesn’t look like much.” Purdy dangled the scrawny mouse from a claw. “But it might tempt her.”

“Isn’t she hungry?” Dovepaw was surprised. Surely every cat in the Clan must be hungry?

Squirrelflight hurried over. “Does she have a fever?”

Purdy shook his head. “She just seems tired and sad.” His shoulders drooped. “I was hoping there would be something on the fresh-kill pile to cheer her up.”

“One of the hunting patrols should be back soon,” Squirrelflight meowed. “They might bring something.” She glanced at Dovepaw. “Isn’t Lionblaze taking you out?”

Dovepaw shrugged. “When he’s ready.” Besides, I have something else to do first. She glanced toward the medicine den, hoping Bumblestripe wouldn’t be hanging around there long.

Purdy let the mouse fall with a soft thud into the snow. “If I were a few seasons younger, I’d go out myself.” He stared dreamily up to the top of the hollow. “I was quite a hunter in my youth. I could catch rabbits.” He puffed out his chest. “And pheasants, although . . .” His whiskers twitched. “Pheasants aren’t that hard to catch. They prefer eating to flying.”

Dovepaw blinked, her attention snatched from Jayfeather. “You caught pheasants?” Purdy wasn’t small, but even he must have been outweighed by a pheasant.

“When I was younger, nothing was too big for me.” Sighing, the old cat headed away toward the elders’ den.

Dovepaw dipped her head to Squirrelflight and hurried to the medicine den.

Bumblestripe was pacing beside Briarlight’s nest. “You should have seen it! So much blood. All from one thorn. And she’d been sleeping on it all night and hadn’t noticed.”

Jayfeather was soaking his pulp-stained paws in the pool. “Don’t exaggerate, Bumblestripe.” He snatched them out and began licking them. “It was nothing more than a couple of scratches.”

“I’m going to be checking moss for Jayfeather now,” Briarlight announced proudly. “I’m the thorn patrol.” She looked across at the medicine cat. “Perhaps I should check the moss for the nursery before it goes in the nests.”

Dovepaw was about to call to Jayfeather, but he was already crossing the den toward her. “I’m sure Daisy and Poppyfrost would appreciate you checking the kits’ moss,” he told Briarlight as he passed her nest. “I’ve got to go out for a while. Bumblestripe, keep Briarlight company. But no more wild stories, please.”

Jayfeather swished past Dovepaw. “Come on,” he whispered, pushing through the brambles. “We need to talk.”

Finally! Was Jayfeather going to start taking Ivypaw’s visits to the Dark Forest seriously? She hurried after him. Without breaking his stride, Jayfeather nodded to Lionblaze. The golden warrior broke away from Firestar and Brambleclaw and bounded after them. Firestar watched, eyes narrowed, as the three padded out of camp.

“Right.” Jayfeather halted in a clearing on the bracken-covered slope outside the hollow. He fixed his blind stare on Dovepaw. “You’ve got to stop Ivypaw coming back from the Dark Forest in such a state. She’s going to give everything away.”

Dovepaw stared at him, openmouthed. Rage roared up from her belly. “I’ve got to stop her?” she spat. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do? And not just because all her scratches and swellings and sprains might give away our secret.” She thrust her muzzle into Jayfeather’s face. “Because I’m scared she’s going to get killed!”

“Calm down.” Lionblaze wove between them. “You’re right, Dovepaw. Ivypaw is getting hurt too often, and it’s our duty to protect her.”

Dovepaw let out a slow breath. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along!”

“But,” Lionblaze added, “we can’t follow her into her dreams.”

“Jayfeather can!” Dovepaw pointed out.

Lionblaze shook his head. “Tigerstar’s already warned him away from the Dark Forest once. We can’t risk him going there again.”

“But you can risk Ivypaw going there night after night,” Dovepaw fumed.

“She’s one of them,” Jayfeather reminded her. “They won’t hurt her on purpose, as long as they think she’s on their side.”

“Can’t you just talk to her?” Dovepaw looked pleadingly from Jayfeather to Lionblaze. “Tell her she can’t go. She might listen to you.”

Lionblaze ran his tail along Dovepaw’s spine. “Do you really think she’d listen?”

Dovepaw’s heart sank. No. Ivypaw seemed convinced that Tigerstar was making her a great warrior. She’d never give that up.

“Besides,” Jayfeather sat down and tucked his tail over his paws, “we need her in the Dark Forest more than ever.”

Lionblaze’s attention flashed toward his brother. “Why?”

“Yellowfang visited me and warned me that we must fight the Dark Forest alone.”

Lionblaze cocked his head. “Alone?”

“All the medicine cats are being told the same thing. We must cut all ties to other Clans and face the danger alone.”

“Do the other Clans know about the Dark Forest warriors?” Lionblaze flattened his ears.

“No.” Jayfeather shifted his paws. “StarClan seems to know, but they’re keeping it from the medicine cats.”

“Why?” Dovepaw demanded.

“They might not want to scare them.” Jayfeather shrugged. “They might simply not know who to trust anymore.”

“Why don’t you tell the medicine cats?” Dovepaw asked.

“Yellowfang ordered me to keep my mouth shut.” Jayfeather shifted his paws. “And when I tried to warn Kestrelflight and Willowshine, I had a vision.”

“What was it?” Lionblaze leaned closer.

“StarClan froze in front of me and shattered like ice until there was nothing left. StarClan was destroyed.”

Dovepaw stared at him. “So we’re on our own?”

Jayfeather shrugged. “ThunderClan has the Three, so ThunderClan must be the one to survive.”

Lionblaze began to pace. “So I’m supposed to fight this battle for everyone?” The tip of his tail flicked angrily. “Great StarClan, why can’t I just have a normal life like any other cat?”

Dovepaw frowned. She thought Lionblaze liked being part of the prophecy. Why was he suddenly acting like he didn’t want to be so powerful? He had always encouraged her to embrace her own powers, and at last she was beginning to enjoy them. Thanks to her super senses she could hear Tigerheart wherever he was. She could hear him hunting with his Clanmates; she could listen to his breathing as he fell asleep in his nest. . . . She jerked her thoughts back. This wasn’t the time to think about Tigerheart. “But why does Ivypaw have to keep visiting the Dark Forest?” she demanded.

“We need to know what they’re up to,” Jayfeather told her.

“We know what they’re up to,” Dovepaw retorted.

“But we don’t know when they plan to strike, or if they’re behind this plan to divide the Clans.” Jayfeather leaned closer to Dovepaw. “Ivypaw could find out for us.”

Dovepaw flinched away. “You want her to spy? Don’t you think she’s in enough danger already? If Tigerstar found out she was spying, StarClan knows what he’d do to her.” Sickness welled in her throat. “No! There’s no way you’re going to put Ivypaw through that. Not even if the whole Clan depends on it!”

She spun around, spraying snow, and stormed through the bracken. Lionblaze and Jayfeather didn’t care about Ivypaw at all! She was just a way of getting what they wanted. First they wanted to use me, and now they want to use Ivypaw.

Pulsing with rage, Dovepaw raced to the top of the slope. The trees thinned at the crest, and she saw the lake below, glittering under a clear blue sky. She might as well use her anger to help her Clan. Plunging down the snowy slope, she headed for the lake. She would hunt.

Where the shore stretched toward the forest stream, Dovepaw picked up the scent of prey. She stopped, her paws aching with cold, and tasted the air.

Water vole.

She padded forward, dipping her nose to sniff the ground. She soon picked up the scent in the snow and saw tracks. Treading lightly, she followed the tiny paw prints along the shore to where the trees lined the stream as it flowed into the lake. After hopping onto the bank, she snuffled her way upstream, weaving through the trees until she spotted the vole—a small, dark shape crouched beside the water. It was focused on the morsel grasped between its front paws.

Dovepaw dropped into a hunting crouch and pulled herself across the snow, keeping her tail and belly high to stop her fur from brushing loudly against the powdery whiteness. She crept closer. The vole kept nibbling, oblivious to the danger. Dovepaw stopped above it. She waggled her hindquarters, then plunged down the bank.

The vole felt warm and fat between her paws, and she finished it off with a sharp, killing bite. Fragrant and limp, it hung in her claws. Her mouth watered from the scent. It was the best piece of fresh-kill she’d seen in days.

“Well done!” Ivypaw called from the opposite bank. Her silver-and-white fur was camouflaged against the snow. She splashed through the shallow, freezing water and scrambled onto the shore beside Dovepaw. “Nice catch.”

Dovepaw wrinkled her nose. Ivypaw’s fur was still matted with herb pulp. Then she noticed that Ivypaw’s eyes were feverishly bright. “You should be resting in camp,” she mewed. “Didn’t Jayfeather say those scratches were infected?”

Ivypaw bristled. “So?” She lifted her muzzle. “They’ve got ointment on.”

“I wasn’t criticizing,” Dovepaw mewed quickly. “I’m just worried about you.” She dropped her catch in front of Ivypaw. “Here, have a bite.” She didn’t want to argue with her sister.

Ivypaw shook her head. “That would be against the warrior code,” she pointed out.

“Just take a small bite,” Dovepaw urged. “You look starving. I’ll say it got damaged in the hunt.”

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “No, thank you,” she growled. “I’m not the one who likes breaking the warrior code.”

“What?” Dovepaw stared at her in surprise.

“I’m not the one who disappears at night to meet a ShadowClan warrior.”

Dovepaw’s heart seemed to drop in her chest like a stone. Ivypaw knows about Tigerheart! “How did you find out?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t smell him on you?” Ivypaw’s tail lashed. “Not very loyal, is it? Spending every night with a tom from another Clan?”

Dovepaw stiffened. “At least we’re not putting anyone in danger.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Every time you go to the Dark Forest, you betray your Clanmates.”

“That’s not true!” Ivypaw hissed. “I’m learning to be a great warrior so I can help my Clan!”

“Yeah, right!” Dovepaw snapped scornfully. “Just like Tigerstar. He was a great warrior!”

“He was!”

“He became ShadowClan’s leader. He tried to kill Firestar!” How could Ivypaw be so dumb?

Ivypaw glared at her, eyes cold as ice. “Aren’t you going to ask how I recognized his smell?”

Dovepaw blinked, confused. “What?”

“Don’t you think it’s odd how easily I recognized Tigerheart’s scent?”

Dovepaw froze, her blood draining into her paws. She remembered the look Ivypaw and Tigerheart had shared in battle.

“H-how did you know?” Dovepaw cringed beneath her pelt. She didn’t want to hear the answer. She didn’t want to hear that Tigerheart had been seeing Ivypaw, too. That he’d lied to her. That she wasn’t the only ThunderClan cat that occupied his thoughts.

“I meet him almost every night,” Ivypaw crowed.

“You can’t; he’s with me!”

“Not all night.”

Dovepaw backed away. “Don’t say that! He likes me, not you. Have you been following him? Find your own mate! Leave him alone!”

Ivypaw padded closer. “Oh, I don’t like him in that way. I’m not a soppy dove like you. I’m a warrior, and so is Tigerheart.”

Dovepaw wished she were deaf, wished she could see Ivypaw’s mouth moving without hearing the words.

“Tigerheart doesn’t spend every night cooing in your ears,” Ivypaw taunted. “He’s one of the best warriors the Dark Forest has. That’s where his loyalty lies. Not with you!”

“That’s not true! You’re just jealous!” Dovepaw shrieked at her sister. She couldn’t believe these lies. “You’re jealous that I’m a better warrior than you. I always have been and I always will be, and you can’t stand it. And now you’re jealous that Tigerheart loves me and not you! You want to destroy everything I’ve got because you’re jealous. That’s all!”

Ivypaw’s eyes gleamed. “Really? Why not ask Tigerheart?”

“Shut up!” Dovepaw scrambled up the bank. “If you tell anyone that I’m seeing Tigerheart, then I’ll tell the whole Clan you’ve been training in the Dark Forest with Tigerstar, and then you’ll have no friends. Everyone will hate you as much as I do!” She pelted through the trees.

“You forgot your catch,” Ivypaw called after her.

“You take it!” Dovepaw yowled back. “Then your Clanmates might think you’ve done something right for a change!”

She raced on, blocking out the thoughts that whirled in her head. The ShadowClan scent line was close. Its smell bathed her tongue. Had Tigerheart really betrayed the Clans by the lake? She skidded to a halt and pricked her ears. Casting out her senses, she searched for Tigerheart.

She’d done it so often that it was easy to find him. She could hear his mew, hear his paws on the forest floor. She knew their sound—strong and certain. He was with Clanmates. She listened harder. Ratscar, Pinepaw, and Snowbird. Purrs rumbled in their throats as Pinepaw fell into a snowdrift with a soft thump.

They sounded happy. Dovepaw wished she were with them. She wished she were playing in the snow with Tigerheart, certain that he loved her. She wanted to be with him all the time.

Maybe she should join ShadowClan? The idea flashed wildly in Dovepaw’s mind, making her heart soar.

Don’t be stupid! I’m one of the Three. She couldn’t leave Jayfeather and Lionblaze to face the Dark Forest warriors alone. And deep down, she knew that she couldn’t leave Ivypaw. Pain pierced her heart like a thorn. She shouldn’t have said all those things. She’d been cruel. She’d made it sound like the Clan didn’t want her sister around.

Suddenly Dovepaw felt sick. What if Ivypaw decided to stay in the Dark Forest forever? She whirled around and raced for home. She’d apologize to Ivypaw. She’d tell her she’d been wrong.

But that wouldn’t be enough! Ivypaw would still keep visiting the Dark Forest. She didn’t understand she was being used. Dovepaw pushed harder against the frozen snow. Trees blurred beside her. Ice cracked beneath her paws.

What’s the use of all this power if I can’t keep my own sister safe?

Chapter 17

Flametail scraped snow hopefully from the roots of an old tree stump. He sighed as he uncovered leaves blackened by frost. Why wasn’t there a single herb that thrived in the season when sickness was most deadly? Littlecloud was already sick. The Clan was weakened by hunger. It was only a matter of time before whitecough threatened every den.

“Ow!” Pinepaw’s mew rang through the trees.

Tigerheart answered her. “That’s what you get for messing around.”

His brother’s hunting patrol was near. Flametail kept digging. “Mouse dung.” He cursed as he revealed more rotten leaves.

Tigerheart came bounding through the trees. “What’s up?”

Flametail shook snow from his paws. “I can’t find any fresh herbs,” he sighed. “Not even nettles.”

The rest of the patrol caught up. “Need help?” Ratscar offered.

“We’ve got time,” Snowbird explained. “The prey’s hiding, too.”

Pinepaw leaned over Flametail’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Flametail’s nose twitched. He smelled something green on the apprentice’s pelt. He twisted and sniffed harder.

“Do you mind?” Pinepaw ducked away. “I washed this morning!”

“Where’ve you been?” Flametail demanded.

Pinepaw jerked her head toward the trail they had left in the snow. “Near the larch.”

Tigerheart purred. “Pinepaw fell into a snow drift.”

“There were brambles underneath it,” Pinepaw complained. “I’ve got prickles in my fur.”

“Brambles beneath the snow?” Flametail felt his spirits soar. “That’s why I can smell fresh borage on your fur!”

Snowbird narrowed her eyes. “I think your littermate’s gone pigeon-brained,” she murmured to Tigerheart.

“Flametail knows what he’s doing.” Tigerheart flicked his tail at his brother. “Don’t you?”

“The brambles will have kept the snow off the borage leaves,” Flametail explained. “They won’t be frost-scorched.”

Ratscar padded forward. “I’ll show you where we were.”

But Flametail was already hurrying back along his Clanmates’ trail. “Don’t worry,” he called. “I can follow your paw prints.”

“You won’t have trouble finding where Pinepaw fell!” Tigerheart called after him. “The hole’s big enough to hide a hare.”

Flametail trotted along the tracks left by his Clanmates, his fur pricking with excitement when he saw a drift rise in front of him, the snow dented where Pinepaw had fallen into it. He burrowed through, ignoring the cold that stung his paws, until he felt the first stab of bramble. Wincing, he drew back the stems and saw, safely sheltered, the dark green leaf of unscorched borage.

Thank StarClan! He nipped off as many leaves as he could reach, then shuffled backward out of the snowy burrow. But worry still pricked his pelt. If only it had been catmint or even tansy. Borage was only good for easing fever. It didn’t drive out infection, and Littlecloud’s lungs were thick with it. What if his sickness turned to greencough? With no catmint, Flametail would be helpless.

He pushed the thought away. Enjoy StarClan’s blessings, he reminded himself.

Flametail headed for the camp. He liked the cold, crisp weather, and though it made his paws ache, he enjoyed the crunch of snow.

“Flametail!”

As he ducked through the camp entrance, Tawnypelt hurried to meet him. “You’ve found herbs!” She licked him roughly on the cheek. “Well done!”

Flametail screwed up his face, reminding himself that he was lucky to have such affectionate kin. Sometimes at Gatherings he glimpsed Breezepelt eyeing Crowfeather and Nightcloud with undisguised rage. Crowfeather and Nightcloud never noticed; they were usually too busy exchanging harsh words between themselves.

“You’re looking thin,” Tawnypelt fretted.

Flametail shrugged. His jaws were too crammed with borage to speak. Of course he looked thin. It was leaf-bare.

Tawnypelt glanced toward the medicine den. “You’d better go to him. He’s been coughing again.”

Flametail brushed his mother’s cheek with his tail as he hurried away. The medicine den smelled of infection. Flame-tail dropped the borage beside the store. “You should be in your nest.”

Littlecloud was slowly sorting leaves at the back of the den. The fresh herbs were piled on one side; the dry were pushed to the other. “There’s no feverfew at all,” he sighed.

“Let me help,” Flametail offered.

“I can manage.” Littlecloud burst into a fit of coughing, which sent the dried leaves fluttering over the den floor.

Flametail gently steered the medicine cat to his nest. “I’ll find the comfrey and take it to the elders’ den,” he promised.

“Stupid cough,” Littlecloud grumbled as he climbed into the moss. He looked relieved as he sank into its softness. “It’ll clear up in a day or two.”

“Of course.” Flametail padded to the herbs. Littlecloud had been saying the same thing for days. He’d been too sick to travel to the Moonpool again, and he was no better now.

Flametail had been secretly relieved that Littlecloud hadn’t gone to the Moonpool, because he hadn’t gone, either. Raggedstar had told them to stay away from the other medicine cats. With Littlecloud too sick to travel, Flametail could obey Raggedstar without arguing with his mentor. When half-moon had come, Flametail had gone alone into the forest and waited out the night in the shelter of a hollow log.

He started tidying the leaves that Littlecloud’s cough had scattered.

“Have you had any dreams?” Littlecloud asked suddenly.

Flametail began to roll a wad of comfrey ready for Tallpoppy. “No.”

“What about when you went to the Moonpool at half-moon?”

Flametail stiffened. “It was the same as before. We must stand alone.”

A growl sounded in Littlecloud’s throat. “Why are you lying?”

Flametail stopped rolling the comfrey. “Lying?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice calm.

“About going to the Moonpool.” Littlecloud’s nest rustled. “I’ve been waiting for a quarter moon for you to tell me the truth.” He coughed hard. “When you got back, there was no scent of water or stone or the other medicine cats on you. Only damp wood and fear.”

Flametail turned to face his mentor. “I’m sorry.” He meant it. He searched for the right words to explain what was going on. “Raggedstar told me to stay away from the other medicine cats, remember? I’ll go to the Moonpool alone if you like.”

“Why are you so sure you interpreted your vision correctly?” Littlecloud challenged.

“There was nothing to interpret!” Flametail swallowed against the frustration rising in his throat. “Raggedstar was clear. War is coming. We must rely on our ancestors to guide us through it. No one else!”

“But Blackstar agrees with me. We must be cautious.”

Flametail flexed his claws. “I’m a medicine cat. I answer first to StarClan!”

“If war is coming, alliances may be our only hope!” Littlecloud’s mew was growing hoarse. “Joining forces with the other Clans kept us alive on the Great Journey, and before that it helped us to defeat Scourge and BloodClan.”

Flametail stared at his mentor. “That was then. This is now. Times have changed.”

“The warrior code never changes.”

“We’re not warriors!” Flametail snapped. “We’re medicine cats.”

Littlecloud stared back with wide, milky eyes. A cough seized him and shook his body. Flametail rushed to Littlecloud’s nest and began to massage his scrawny chest with both paws, trying to ease the tightness he could hear in the cough. He hated arguing with his mentor. Especially when he was sick. Littlecloud had taught him everything he knew, and he trusted him with his life. But Littlecloud hadn’t shared the vision of flame. It had been given to Flametail alone.

Flametail jerked away. Why had StarClan shared the warning only with him? He watched Littlecloud being racked with coughs. Was the old medicine cat going to die? Grief hollowed Flametail’s belly. He began rubbing Littlecloud’s back more urgently.

Gradually the coughing eased. Littlecloud lay back in his nest, fighting for breath. “You must always be honest with me,” he rasped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about not going to the Moonpool.” Flametail smoothed Littlecloud’s clumped fur with a paw. “I didn’t want to upset you.” He met his mentor’s anxious gaze. “But I couldn’t disobey StarClan.”

Littlecloud nodded. “I understand,” he croaked. “I only ask for the truth.”

“Now you have it.” Flametail straightened. “We must stand alone. Raggedstar has made that clear, and I’m going to honor his wish.”

“Must I?” Littlecloud asked. “I’ve had no dreams. No visions. I’ve no reason to abandon old friends.” His voice was hardly a whisper.

“Are you thinking of Cinderpelt?” Flametail knew of the close bond between the two medicine cats.

Littlecloud’s eyes glistened.

Flametail leaned closer. “She’s dead,” he murmured. “Jayfeather is ThunderClan’s medicine cat now. He’s not Cinderpelt. He’ll want to fight alone if StarClan wishes it.”

“Jayfeather can do what he likes!” Littlecloud propped himself up with a groan. “Cinderpelt saved my life once. That act bonded us closer than friends. I will not abandon the Clan she loved until that debt is repaid.”

The stems around the entrance rustled, and Rowanclaw poked his head in. “Flametail?” he called. “Blackstar wants to see you.”

Littlecloud tried to clamber out of his nest.

“Just Flametail,” Rowanclaw told the medicine cat. “Blackstar heard you coughing. He wants you to rest.”

Littlecloud growled with frustration but sank back into the soft moss.

“I’ll tell you what he says,” Flametail promised, and hurried after Rowanclaw. As he crossed the clearing, he felt pelts brush either side of him. He slowed, puzzled. Rowanclaw was leading. No other cat was near.

Warm scents wreathed his pelt. Russetfur and Sagewhisker! He heard their voices, a soft wind in his ears.

“Stay strong!”

“We are with you!”

He nodded and padded into Blackstar’s den, leaving the ghostly warriors to the breeze.

“Have you had any more signs?” Blackstar was pacing the cramped den. His tail whipped behind him.

Flametail leaned out of the way. “Nothing,” he reported.

“Then why am I having such bad dreams?” Blackstar fixed him with a troubled gaze. “Every night I toss and turn, my dreams filled with blood and violence and death.”

Flametail blinked. The old leader looked haunted, darkness rimming his eyes.

“What dangers do we face?” Blackstar demanded. “Will ShadowClan be destroyed?” He peered through the entrance, anguish sharpening his mew. “When you visited the Moonpool after the battle with ThunderClan, you spoke of a war coming. Who threatens us? ThunderClan? WindClan? RiverClan? All of them? How should we face them? What do our ancestors say?”

Flametail dipped his head. “I told you what they said. We must face the danger alone. Allies will weaken us. So long as we stand alone, we’ll be safe.”

Hope lightened Blackstar’s eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.” Flametail looked down at his paws. “We’ll be fine.” The words sounded hollow, but he had to calm Blackstar. How could they face any battle if their leader lost his nerve?

Blackstar turned away. “We can fight this. We’ll be fine.” The ShadowClan leader had disappeared into his own thoughts. Flametail backed out of the den.

“I hear you found herbs.”

Rowanclaw’s mew made him jump. “Herbs?” he echoed.

“This morning,” Rowanclaw pressed. “Tawnypelt said you brought borage back. Do you want help to collect more?”

Flametail shook out his pelt, clearing his mind. “Yes,” he meowed. “That’s a good idea.”

Rowanclaw scanned the snowy clearing. “Toadfoot! Dawnpelt!” The two warriors were patching the nursery wall with leaves. Rowanclaw signaled to them with his tail. “I have a task for you.”

“What is it?” Dawnpelt reached her father first.

Rowanclaw purred. “Flametail’s found a supply of borage. We should collect it while the leaves are still green.”

“There may be other herbs that have been protected from the snow,” Flametail added. “We must hunt under every bramble.”

Toadfoot shuddered. “We’ll be sleeping with scratched pelts tonight.”

“Not if we’re careful.” Dawnpelt was staring into space. “In fact, I have an idea.”

“Lift it higher!” Dawnpelt called from beneath a clump of brambles.

Toadfoot groaned as he heaved the stick up with his front paws, balancing on his rear legs and levering the prickly stems from the ground until they were high enough for Flametail and Dawnpelt to squeeze underneath.

“Don’t let it drop!” Dawnpelt warned as she wriggled farther under the brambles.

“I won’t,” Toadfoot puffed.

Flametail followed his sister, his belly scraping the frozen earth. The top brambles were weighted with snow, but here at ground level the stems were bare, and he could see green shoots sprouting among them. “Can you reach?” he mewed to Dawnpelt.

“I think so.” She stretched out her forepaws and began plucking the leaves. “Here.” She passed a pawful back to Flametail. It was coltsfoot. Even if he couldn’t cure Littlecloud, he’d have some way to ease his breathing.

He gathered the leaves Dawnpelt passed him until he was holding a satisfying, green-scented wad between his paws. “Any more?” he called.

“That’s it,” Dawnpelt answered.

Flametail squirmed backward, out from under the brambles, and shook the prickles from his pelt. Toadfoot was panting with the effort of levering the bush up. Flametail dropped the coltsfoot and put his paws under the stick, next to his Clanmate. Together they held the brambles high until Dawnpelt wriggled out.

Flametail gazed happily at the pile of coltsfoot. “That supply should keep us going for a moon, so long as there aren’t too many coughs.”

“Let’s try another bush!” Dawnpelt circled excitedly, scanning the trees. “What about that one over there?” She hared toward another snow-covered thicket.

Toadfoot rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m carrying the stick.” He picked up the sturdy pine branch in his teeth and began to drag it after Dawnpelt.

Suddenly, Flametail heard a sharp crack. Dawnpelt stumbled as ice split underneath her paws. As she started to fall, Flametail felt a rush of dread.

Plunged into a vision, he found himself floundering in freezing black water. It sucked him down, clutching at his fur, filling his ears and mouth. He gasped for breath, and water flooded his chest. Gagging and coughing, he fought his way up, flailing for the surface. His claws hit ice. It blocked the air, trapping him underwater, forcing him back into the sucking depths. Terror roared in his ears as he scrabbled to break it. He felt his claws rip against the smooth surface, and his lungs screamed.

“No!” Flametail hurled himself at Dawnpelt before she could sink through the ice. He knocked her into the snow at the side of the trail.

“What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” she yelped, and pushed him off, scrabbling to find her paws. “Have you gone crazy?”

In the center of the path, a small circle of ice had cracked to reveal a muddy puddle, barely more than a leaf’s thickness deep.

“Were you afraid I was going to get my paws wet?” Dawnpelt demanded.

Flametail stared at the puddle, his flanks heaving. “I . . . I . . .” The vision crowded his thoughts, and he could think of nothing but being trapped under that ice in freezing, choking water.

Flametail backed away. Why had a puddle triggered such a vivid vision? He shivered. First fire, now water. He was seeing danger everywhere.

“I know,” he whispered to StarClan. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

He must concentrate on what was important right now. Littlecloud was sick. He had to find herbs to keep his Clanmates strong and healthy. Visions could wait.

Chapter 18

Sandstorm was coughing. Lionblaze broke off from his work patching the elders’ den and glanced at her as she crouched with her shoulders hunched beneath Highledge. She’d been coughing last night, too.

Firestar leaped down the rocks and touched his mate’s head with his muzzle. “Are you okay?”

“Just swallowed a snowflake,” Sandstorm rasped.

Lionblaze pushed another pawful of leaves into a gap in the branches. Though it was sunhigh, the hollow was gray under a gray sky. More snow had fallen in the past days, weighing down the beech tree so that the freshly built walls creaked and buckled, sprouting holes and cracks. Lionblaze had been working all morning to fill them in and stop the icy drafts that sliced through the new dens. Toadstep and Birchfall had been bringing leaves into camp, their paws muddy where they’d dug through the snow to scrape them from the frozen forest floor.

Birchfall dropped another pile at Lionblaze’s paws. Toadstep paced behind him, trying to keep warm. “Do you need more?”

Both warriors were out of breath. Their pelts clung to their bones. Prey had been scarce for nearly half a moon, and the Clan was lucky to eat a few mouthfuls a day.

Lionblaze scooped up a pawful of frostbitten foliage. “If you can find more, I’ll be able to patch the back of the den, too.”

Birchfall nodded and led Toadstep back out of camp.

“Make sure you patch it up well!” Mousefur’s reedy mew sounded through the den wall. “I hardly slept last night, the den was so windy.”

Lionblaze purred. The fat water vole Ivypaw had brought back had restored Mousefur’s spirits. He scooped up another pawful of leaves and walked gingerly over the branches to the back of the den.

“Is Lionblaze in here?” Brambleclaw had stuck his head through the entrance.

“I’m in back.” Lionblaze dropped his leaves, jumped down to the ground, and hurried to meet the ThunderClan deputy. “What is it?”

Brambleclaw was shuffling backward out of the den. “I want you to lead a hunting patrol.”

Lionblaze wiped his leaf-clogged claws in the snow. “Great. Where?”

“In the woods near the WindClan border.”

Mousefur’s head appeared in the den entrance. “What about the drafts?”

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Birchfall and Toadstep can finish the job.”

Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Is it wise to hunt near the border?” he ventured. “WindClan has been touchy about it since they started hunting there themselves.”

Brambleclaw snorted. “That’s precisely why we should make our presence felt. They’ve chased prey across the scent line before. We don’t want them to make a habit of it.”

“I guess not.” Lionblaze saw the sense in what the deputy was suggesting.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Brambleclaw went on. “But WindClan needs to know that ThunderClan is never far from the border line.”

Mousefur flexed her claws. “I don’t know why they couldn’t stick to hunting the moors like they did in the old days.” She turned and headed back into the warmth of the den, still grumbling. “WindClan hunting in woodland. What next? ShadowClan fishing in the lake?”

Brambleclaw waited for her to vanish inside. “Don’t look for trouble,” he told Lionblaze again. “But don’t hide from it either.”

Lionblaze fluffed out his pelt. “With any luck, we’ll catch a rabbit.” Rabbits sometimes strayed into the shelter of the forest when the weather hardened.

“A rabbit would be good.” Brambleclaw’s gaze strayed to the mouse and the scrawny robin that formed the fresh-kill pile. “Take Leafpool, Cinderheart, and Dovepaw,” he ordered.

Lionblaze’s heart sank. He’d been avoiding Cinderheart. Why had he told her his secret? Why had he believed she’d just accept it? Why couldn’t she just accept it? His tail twitched. I haven’t changed! I’ve always had this power. He glanced across the clearing. He knew Cinderheart was there, sharing tongues with Leafpool. He stiffened as she whispered in Leafpool’s ear. What if she told someone? Would she give his secret away?

No! Lionblaze pushed away the worry. Cinderheart hadn’t changed, either—he still trusted her. “Is Ivypaw coming?”

Brambleclaw shook his head. “Jayfeather says she’s still fighting the infection in her scratches. He wants her in camp till she’s recovered.”

Lionblaze headed toward Cinderheart and Leafpool. He called to Dovepaw as he passed the medicine den. She’d gone to keep Briarlight company. She nosed her way out of the brambles and ran to catch up to him. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly as he reached Cinderheart and Leafpool.

“We’re hunting beside the WindClan border.”

Leafpool got to her paws. “And checking WindClan hasn’t strayed over it, I presume?”

Cinderheart stretched, her pelt ruffled from washing. She twisted to smooth a clump of fur with her tongue.

“We may as well get going.” Lionblaze glanced at Leafpool, surprised to find that she met his gaze. She seemed more confident lately. She was quick to offer help to Jayfeather, unflinching whether he accepted or rejected her advice. And she was stronger on patrols, too, often the first to catch prey or to point out where a border scent had grown stale.

Lionblaze scowled. Was she a medicine cat or a warrior now? How should he treat her? He shifted his paws. Was she his mother or his mother’s sister? He knew she’d kitted him, but she hadn’t raised him. Squirrelflight had done that. At least she had when Clan duties hadn’t kept her from the nursery. He shrugged. Daisy and Ferncloud had so often been the queens to warm and wash him; they felt as much like his mother as Squirrelflight, and far more so than Leafpool.

“So?” Leafpool’s mew shook him from his thoughts. “Are we going or not?”

“We’re going.”

Dovepaw was yawning.

“Why are you so tired all the time?” Lionblaze flashed with irritation.

Dovepaw blinked at him. “Sorry.” She scampered away and followed Cinderheart out of the camp. As Leafpool headed after them, Lionblaze felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have snapped at Dovepaw. She was young. Perhaps her power was too strong for her.

He followed his patrol out of the camp. The smell of the forest pushed away his worries. Fresh snow had smoothed the trails and bushes. The woods looked untouched, and he plunged ahead of his Clanmates, giving in to the kitlike urge to be the first to spoil the soft snow. Cinderheart, Leafpool, and Dovepaw followed him in silence, their paw steps muffled.

As they neared the narrow stream that separated the territories, Lionblaze tasted the air, making sure that no WindClan cat had strayed over the scent line. The stream was hardly more than a frozen ditch filled with snow that left nothing except a dent in the forest floor, but the scent line was fresh, pungent with both WindClan and ThunderClan markers.

“Should I take Cinderheart and hunt up past the brambles?” Leafpool offered.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Cinderheart put in.

“Okay.” Lionblaze felt relieved. “Take Dovepaw, too.” She was yawning again. He’d be better off hunting alone.

As the patrol headed away, bounding past the brambles, Lionblaze sniffed a hawthorn bush on the edge of the ditch, hungry for signs of prey, watchful for WindClan scent.

Frosted snow cracked beyond the ditch, and Lionblaze jerked his head up. Breezepelt was snuffling his way along a trail of small paw prints. Crowfeather followed, ears pricked, fur bristling along his spine.

Lionblaze ducked lower behind the bush. They didn’t know he was there. Through the bare stems of the hawthorn, he watched the WindClan cats, skinny and shivering, as they followed the tracks. They weren’t even trying to keep low. Did they imagine they were hidden by heather here? Mouse-brains!

A shower of snow spattered from the branches overhead. The WindClan cats looked up, their eyes gleaming. Lionblaze could hear the flicker of feathers, and without looking he knew that a thrush was near. He opened his mouth and let the scent bathe his tongue. More snow dropped. Then the thrush fluttered down. It landed beside a larch cone and began to peck for bugs between the bracts. Crowfeather stiffened. Breezepelt tensed. Only their tail-tips twitched. The thrush carried on pecking.

Then Breezepelt leaped. His paws thrust snow out behind him. The thrush exploded into the air, squawking an alarm. Breezepelt shot after it, paws outstretched. He leaped into the air, batting the thrush with a deadly swipe. It bounced from his grasp and shot across the ditch.

Lionblaze sprang out to meet it and swatted at the thrush mid-flight. It fell to the ground, dead.

“Hey!” Breezepelt’s outraged mew shrieked across the ditch. “That was mine!”

“It’s on my territory.” Lionblaze crouched over his catch, his mouth watering. One less piece of fresh-kill for WindClan, one more for ThunderClan. He looked at Crowfeather, the cat who’d made Leafpool betray her Clan. Lionblaze would never admit that this cat was his father. Your WindClan son couldn’t even keep hold of his catch.

“I killed it.” Breezepelt’s growl sounded like a challenge.

“Are you sure?” Lionblaze lifted his chin and stared at the WindClan warrior. “Why don’t you come and fetch it, then?”

Breezepelt flicked his tail. In one jump, he had crossed the ditch and slammed into Lionblaze.

Lionblaze suddenly felt alive. His fur bushed up as he fell under the WindClan warrior’s weight. When Breezepelt’s claws tried to hook into his flesh, Lionblaze reared and shook him off like a fly. Then he turned and leaped on top of him, trapping him between his front paws.

“ThunderClan slime!” Breezepelt slithered out of his grip, swiping wildly with all four feet.

Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched. This was too easy. Swinging a paw, he thumped Breezepelt heavily across the cheek. The WindClan warrior staggered and fell, then heaved himself up. “That was my thrush,” he spat. With a lightning-fast swipe, he knocked Lionblaze’s hind paws from under him.

Lionblaze gasped, taken by surprise, and collapsed into the snow. He felt Breezepelt’s teeth land in his shoulder. Raging, Lionblaze thrashed like a fish on the slippery snow. Finding a paw hold, he heaved himself to his paws and thrust Breezepelt clear with another hefty blow. Blood spattered onto the snow like crimson rain.

“Stop it!”

Leafpool’s high-pitched shriek shattered the freezing air as she plunged through the bracken with Cinderheart and Dovepaw behind her. “How can you watch your sons fight?” she screeched at Crowfeather.

Before Crowfeather could reply, his mate, Nightcloud, stalked from the shadows beyond the border. Her black pelt matched Breezepelt’s, and her amber eyes glittered with the same venom. “He only has one son.” Hatred laced her hiss. “Crowfeather is Breezepelt’s father. No one else’s!”

Breezepelt crouched down. Lionblaze could see his muscles bunching beneath his pelt, ready for another attack.

“Stop!” Leafpool shot between them.

Breezepelt’s lunge hit her square in the side. His claws tore her pelt as he dragged her to the ground. Another jet of blood sprayed the snow. Lionblaze stared in shock. Before he could reach for Breezepelt, Crowfeather had crossed the ditch and hauled his son off Leafpool.

He tossed him aside like prey and leaned over Leafpool. “You chose your Clan, remember?” he hissed.

She stared up at him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.”

Crowfeather’s eyes flashed with pain. “Maybe you did,” he growled. “But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Get away from her!” Nightcloud had crossed the ditch. She sank her claws into Crowfeather’s pelt and dragged him away from Leafpool.

Crowfeather turned on his mate, hissing. Breezepelt darted between them with a wail of protest. Lionblaze felt sick. He’s my brother. How can I fight my brother?

Breezepelt faced his father, tail bushed, lips drawn back. “Leave my mother alone.” The thrush had been forgotten. This was about a different kind of blood now, the sort that flowed in a cat’s veins, binding him to another.

Lionblaze shook his head, making his ears flap. These cats aren’t my kin. A few paces away, Leafpool heaved herself to her paws. Lionblaze glared at her. It’s her fault. She made this mess. Yet her eyes were shot with grief, and he suddenly felt her pain as though it were his own. She has suffered more than any of us.

Crowfeather, growling, turned away from Breezepelt and jumped the ditch back onto WindClan territory. “Come on,” he snarled. “If ThunderClan is going to starve without that puny bird, let them have it.” Breezepelt slunk after him, leaving a thin trail of blood in the snow.

Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. He hadn’t felt a scratch. Should he stop fighting Clan cats? It’s cheating. Dovepaw’s words echoed in his mind. Perhaps he should save his powers for the Dark Forest warriors.

Nightcloud leaped the ditch, then paused and turned back. “Next time we’ll shred you!” she spat.

Dovepaw darted forward. “Breezepelt started it!”

“Hush.” Cinderheart guided her away from the border, murmuring to Lionblaze as she passed, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have fought him.”

Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “Why not?”

Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Have you caught anything yet?” he asked his apprentice pointedly.

Dovepaw flicked her tail. “Not yet.”

“Then start hunting.” Lionblaze watched Dovepaw stamp away, then turned to Leafpool. “You should go back to the camp and get Jayfeather to look at your wounds,” he ordered. Leafpool dragged her gaze from the border and nodded.

Lionblaze waited till the two cats had disappeared past the brambles. “Why are you worried about a WindClan cat?” he hissed to Cinderheart.

“You could’ve really hurt him!”

Do you think I don’t know that? “I know what I’m doing!” he growled. “Stop treating me like a two-headed fox!”

Cinderheart stared at her paws. “Well, excuse me for not knowing how to handle this,” she muttered. “You’re the one who changed everything.”

Lionblaze stared at her. Tiredness swamped him like a black wave. “No,” he sighed. “This was all decided long before I was born.” He turned away. “Let’s hunt and go home. The Clan is hungry.”

Lionblaze stood back while Graystripe circled the fresh-kill pile, licking his lips. They’d brought back two rabbits, the thrush, and a grouse.

“We should hunt on the WindClan border more often,” the gray warrior purred.

Berrynose’s mouth fell open. “It looks like a pile again!”

Lionblaze stared across the clearing. The good day’s hunting hadn’t eased the pain in his heart. Cinderheart hadn’t even looked at him since they’d talked, and Leafpool had hardly spoken to anyone. He watched Sandstorm coughing. The ginger she-cat was crouched beside the halfrock with Firestar. Brightheart was with them. “She should see Jayfeather,” she meowed.

“Really, it’s just snowflakes,” Sandstorm insisted.

Brightheart circled her. “We’re all breathing in snowflakes,” she fretted. “You’re the only one coughing.”

Firestar sniffed her. “Perhaps Jayfeather should check you out.”

Brightheart nodded. “It sounds like whitecough.” Firestar flashed the one-eyed warrior a sharp look. Brightheart twitched her tail. “If it is whitecough, we need to know.”

Firestar leaned forward. “Keep your voice down!” Clearly he didn’t want the Clan worried.

“I’m going to fetch Jayfeather,” Brightheart decided. She hurried away to the medicine den.

“Well done, Lionblaze.” Brambleclaw sniffed the fresh-kill pile. “Poppyfrost should eat first, and the kits.”

“Briarlight will need some too,” Millie added.

Lionblaze rolled a rabbit distractedly with his paw. “There’ll be enough for everyone.”

Jayfeather was following Brightheart from his den. He stopped beside Sandstorm and leaned over her.

Lionblaze broke away from his Clanmates. “Is it whitecough?” he asked softly as he neared his brother.

“Shhh!” Jayfeather pressed his ear closer to Sandstorm’s flank. His tail quivered. “She’ll need rest.” He straightened. “And keep her warm.”

Brightheart shifted her paws. “So it is whitecough.”

“It may be.” Jayfeather touched Sandstorm’s ear with a pad. “I’ll see if there’s any feverfew left.”

Lionblaze sat down. It was early in leaf-bare for whitecough. What if it spread? A flash of tabby pelt caught his eye. Leafpool was hurrying toward her mother.

“Sandstorm, what’s wrong?” Leafpool bent to sniff Sandstorm’s breath and looked up at Jayfeather. “We need tansy. I’ll go and find some.”

“It’s getting late.” Firestar rested his tail on Leafpool’s spine. “Why not wait till morning?”

“And where are you going to find tansy?” Brightheart shook her head in despair. “We’ve been scouring the forest for days.”

“There’s some in your herb patch beside the Twoleg nest,” Lionblaze offered.

Jayfeather stiffened.

Leafpool shook off Firestar’s tail. “I’ll fetch it!”

“It’s too delicate,” Jayfeather snapped. “If we pick it now, it may kill off the roots, and we’ll lose the whole plant.”

Leafpool snapped her head around to stare at him. “And if we don’t, Sandstorm might get worse!”

“She’s strong,” Jayfeather countered. “She may not need tansy. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?” Leafpool challenged. “The tansy or Sandstorm’s life?”

Firestar stepped forward. “It hasn’t come to that yet.”

Jayfeather kept his blind gaze fixed on Leafpool. “I’ll decide when to use the tansy,” he growled. “I’m the medicine cat.”

Lionblaze tensed in the chilly silence. Snow creaked beneath his paws.

“Very well,” Leafpool meowed at last. “I’ll find some in the forest.” She turned and stalked away.

“Wait till the morning!” Firestar called.

Leafpool hesitated, then stalked to the warriors’ den and disappeared inside.

“Was there any sign of intruders on the border?”

“What?” Lionblaze looked up and saw Firestar staring at him. He’d forgotten to report the skirmish. “We met a WindClan patrol.”

Firestar’s eyes narrowed. “Did they cross the border?”

Lionblaze felt a rush of confusion. Yes, but only because he’d taunted his half brother. How would he explain that? “There was a small argument about a piece of prey that crossed the border,” he meowed at last. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Who won the prey?” Firestar asked.

“I did.”

Sandstorm started coughing again. Firestar wrapped his tail around his mate. “These disputes are bound to happen,” he meowed before turning his attention to Sandstorm.

If only it were that simple! Lionblaze closed his eyes. Today’s fight hadn’t been about prey, or hunger, or hunting rights. The tangling of relationships between the two Clans had caused the skirmish. It had poisoned feelings, not just between Clans but between Clanmates, weakening the Clan from within as cat turned against cat.

Perhaps Yellowfang was right. Perhaps each Clan should stand alone. When faced with such a treacherous enemy, they couldn’t risk letting anything distract them from the final battle.

Chapter 19

The roof of the elders’ den creaked under the weight of snow. Jayfeather winced. “I hope it holds,” he muttered.

“The old den would have been flattened.” Beside him, Purdy’s fur brushed against bark. “But now, with the honeysuckle woven around the beech branches, this den is strong enough to hold off a hollowful of snow.”

Mousefur turned in her nest. “It’s the thaw I’m not looking forward to. At least the snow is dry now. When it starts dripping through the roof—”

Purdy cut her off. “When the thaw comes, you’ll get wet. Like you do every leaf-bare.” His tail swished. “Cats that live wild get wet. Not even your StarClan can change that.”

Jayfeather touched his muzzle to Mousefur’s. “Hold still,” he ordered as she pulled away. He smelled her breath. It wasn’t sour, and her nose was cool. He listened to her chest, unsure whether the wheezing was infection or just age. Yet it was sunhigh, and the old she-cat was still in her nest. “Are you sure you don’t have a sore throat?” he asked again.

“I’m sure,” Mousefur grunted.

“Any aching in your joints?”

“Only the usual.”

Jayfeather frowned. Why had she refused to play moss-ball with Molekit this morning? He turned to Purdy. “Let me know if she starts coughing.”

“I’ll fetch you myself,” the old loner promised.

Jayfeather nosed his way through the honeysuckle tendrils, shivering as his paws touched snow in the clearing. The big catch Lionblaze’s patrol had made had fed the Clan for days, but now the fresh-kill pile was pitifully empty, and Sandstorm’s whitecough was beginning to spread. First, Jayfeather had confined Bumblestripe to his nest after coughing and fever gripped the young warrior during the night. Then Poppyfrost had sent Blossomfall to the medicine den.

“She says Cherrykit’s got a fever,” Blossomfall had told him.

“Tell her I’ll come as soon as I’ve checked on Mousefur.”

As Thornclaw led his patrol out of camp, Jayfeather headed for the nursery, praying that Poppyfrost was just being overanxious. Rasping breath caught his ear. He paused. “Is that you, Mousewhisker?”

“Yes,” the warrior croaked from the edge of the clearing.

“Get to your nest and stay there.” Jayfeather crossed the clearing, not waiting for the warrior to object. There was no time for argument. The infection was spreading. He’d moved Sandstorm to the medicine den. She couldn’t stay with Firestar. ThunderClan needed its leader to be healthy. Jayfeather sent a silent prayer to StarClan. Please don’t let Briarlight catch it.

“Jayfeather!” Poppyfrost’s mew sounded from the entrance to the nursery. As the warmth of the den surrounded him, tiny claws bit into his back.

“Get off him, Molekit!” Daisy’s stern mew sounded from her nest.

Molekit slid down Jayfeather’s back. “Just practicing my attack pounce!”

Poppyfrost bustled past Jayfeather. “Go and practice outside,” she told the young kit.

“Can Cherrykit come?” he mewed.

Jayfeather cuffed him gently with a soft paw. “Maybe later. I need to check her first.”

As Molekit tumbled out of the den, Poppyfrost put her mouth against Jayfeather’s ear. “She feels hot,” she murmured.

Jayfeather leaned into the nest and touched Cherrykit’s small muzzle with his own. “She is a bit warm.” He pressed an ear to her chest. “Her breathing is clear, though.”

“I feel fine,” Cherrykit squeaked. “Can I go and play with Molekit?”

“Does she need herbs?” Poppyfrost’s mew was tight with worry.

“Not yet.” Jayfeather wanted to preserve his small supply for as long as possible. “Send her out to play in the snow with Molekit.”

Poppyfrost gasped. “Outside?”

“The best thing you can do is to keep her cool,” Jayfeather advised. “The snow will do that as long as her breathing is clear.” He nosed Cherrykit out of the nest. “If you start to feel sick,” he told the kit, “come inside and rest.” He turned to Poppyfrost. “Call me if she starts to cough or wheeze.”

Jayfeather slid out of the nursery and headed back to his den to check on Sandstorm. “How are you?” he meowed as he leaned into the orange warrior’s makeshift nest.

“I’ve felt better,” Sandstorm admitted.

Jayfeather touched a pad to her ears, worried to find them hotter than ever. He turned away from the nest and began pulling herbs from his store. There must be more feverfew somewhere. His chest tightened as he felt the dried leaves and sniffed. Nothing good for coughs.

The brambles rustled, and a fresh tang filled the air. Yarrow?

“You forgot to bring these in.” Rosepetal’s muffled mew sounded at the den entrance. Leaves thumped gently on the floor. It is yarrow! Yarrow never survived the first frost.

Jayfeather hurried over to sniff the pile of leaves. “Where did you find these?” There might be other herbs nearby.

“They were lying outside the camp, near the thorns,” Rosepetal mewed. “I thought you’d dropped them.”

Jayfeather frowned. “Not me.”

“Well, someone did.” Rosepetal’s paw brushed the yarrow, and bitter scent drifted up. “Perhaps it was Leafpool,” she suggested.

“Maybe.” Leafpool had been scouring the forest for days. She was so tired that it was possible she had dropped some leaves and forgotten about them. “I’ll go thank her.” Jayfeather brushed past Rosepetal and pushed through the brambles.

Leafpool was tumbling with the kits outside the nursery. Her pelt smelled of the forest, but there was no scent of yarrow on her.

Jayfeather crossed the clearing. “Thanks!” he called.

Leafpool paused. “Thanks?”

“For the herbs.”

“What herbs?”

“The yarrow leaves,” Jayfeather explained. “Rosepetal found them outside the camp. We figured you’d picked them and dropped them there.”

“It wasn’t me.” Leafpool’s tail-tip brushed the snow as she walked toward him. “Maybe it was one of the other cats?”

Jayfeather twisted and called toward his den. “Rosepetal?”

The young cat came bounding out. “What?”

“Show me where you found the yarrow.”

He followed Rosepetal through the thorn barrier. “Here,” she announced, stopping in the narrow clearing outside, between the hollow and the trees.

Jayfeather sniffed the ground. No scent of any cat. Just yarrow and snow.

“Perhaps a warrior found leaves and hoped they’d be useful,” Rosepetal suggested. “They may have been on patrol and planned to tell you later.”

“Maybe.” Jayfeather shrugged. “If no one mentions it, I’ll ask Firestar to thank whoever found it at the next Clan meeting.” Pushing his curiosity aside, he headed back into the hollow.

“Jayfeather!”

Thornclaw’s yowl made him stop. “What is it?” Jayfeather tasted the air. “Mothwing, is that you?” Thornclaw and Spiderleg were accompanying the RiverClan medicine cat down the slope to the hollow.

“We found her by the shore,” Thornclaw reported. “She wants to speak with you.”

Mothwing snorted and broke away from her escort. “Thanks for your company,” she muttered. “I think I could have found my own way here.”

Spiderleg’s pelt sparked. “We were just trying to help.”

Jayfeather flicked his tail. “I’m sure she’s grateful.” He padded past the warrior, nudging Mothwing along with him. “Let’s go to the lake. My den is full.”

“Sickness?” Mothwing followed him up the slope.

“Whitecough.” Jayfeather wrinkled his nose at the scent of fish on her breath. “Only Sandstorm so far, but possibly three more.”

As Mothwing sighed, he wondered if he should warn her that StarClan was trying to divide the Clans. After all, she had no connection with StarClan. They had no power over her. But he couldn’t forget Yellowfang’s words. Or his vision.

“How’s Briarlight?” Mothwing asked.

“She’s shaken off the infection.”

“Good.”

“Her forepaws are as strong as any warrior,” Jayfeather went on. “They’ll be stronger if she keeps on with her exercises.”

“It’s going to be a long hard path for her,” Mothwing warned.

“Once it becomes the only path she knows, it won’t seem so hard.” The lake breeze stung Jayfeather’s nose as he reached the crest of the slope. He hurried on, breaking from the trees and bounding down the snowy slope. He wanted to stay a few paw steps ahead of Mothwing. It was too easy to fall into the old bond of friendship.

He plunged down the bank, shocked as snow swallowed him up. It had piled along the shore, and he coughed as it shot up his nose. Sneezing, he struggled toward the water’s frozen edge until he was free of the drift. “I wish it would thaw,” he spluttered to Mothwing.

She lumbered through the snow and settled beside him. “It’s just getting colder,” she observed. “We’re having trouble stopping the kits from playing on the ice. I had to treat three sprained paws yesterday.”

Has she just come to gossip about kits? Jayfeather let his thoughts drift into hers.

Her mind seemed empty. He was wasting his time. “What do you want?” he snapped. “I don’t have all day.”

A purr rolled in her throat. “Blunt as ever.” She pawed at the snow, then lowered her voice. “Willowshine told me that StarClan has ordered us to stop talking to the other medicine cats.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“I want to know if they told you the same thing.”

Yellowfang’s matted outline suddenly shimmered at the edge of Jayfeather’s awareness. His pelt pricked as he sensed the old medicine cat’s presence. “I’m not telling you what StarClan shares with me,” he grunted.

“Then they have told you the same!”

Jayfeather bit back a reply as Mothwing pressed on. “They told you to stop talking to me, and you have!” Her tail scraped the snow. “If StarClan told you to jump in the lake, would you?”

Jayfeather bristled. “That’s not the same.”

“Really?” Mothwing leaned closer. “How many times has another Clan helped us save our Clanmates?”

Jayfeather shrugged.

“They’re asking us to stop doing something that medicine cats have done since the Clans were born. They’re asking us to let cats die. Have they gone mad?”

“Remember to hold your tongue.” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded in Jayfeather’s ear. “If you don’t keep quiet, all four Clans will be lost to the darkness.”

“They’re StarClan,” he muttered. “They have their reasons.”

“What reasons?” Mothwing growled. Her fishy breath billowed in his face. “You don’t know, do you?”

He pulled away. “I can’t explain it to you.”

“I know when something feels wrong,” she argued. “Our code is different from the warrior code. It reaches across boundaries. To us, every cat is simply that—a cat, with the same right to life as any other. We made a promise to heal and protect, remember?”

“Then protect your Clanmates,” Jayfeather snapped back. “But leave mine alone.”

“What if Sandstorm’s whitecough turns to greencough?” Mothwing’s muzzle was close to his again. “Could you let her die because StarClan told you to?”

“They have their reasons.” Jayfeather dug his claws into the snow.

“They’re just dead warriors!” Mothwing hissed. “Do you think that when they die, they get clever and brave? Don’t you realize that some of them may be as foolish and wrong-headed as they were when they were alive?”

Jayfeather wrinkled his nose against Yellowfang’s rancid breath. He felt her matted pelt snag his. She hadn’t changed a whisker when she’d joined StarClan. A growl rumbled in his throat. “You’ve never met a warrior from StarClan,” he spat. “You’re just guessing.”

“So are they!”

Yellowfang growled beside him. “Mothwing was born an idiot. She’ll die an idiot.”

Jayfeather turned away. “You won’t convince me.”

Mothwing let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Okay, okay!” She bounded after him, spraying him with snow. “Do you need herbs for whitecough? I’ve got tansy and catmint—not much, but enough to share if you’re desperate.”

“No, thank you.” Jayfeather forced out the words as he clambered up the bank.

Mothwing halted behind him. “If you do, come find me.”

“I won’t.” Jayfeather trudged up the slope. The snow on the shore crunched as Mothwing headed back toward the WindClan border.

The icy wind tugged at Jayfeather’s fur. “Happy now?” he growled to Yellowfang. But she had vanished.

He broke into a run, bounding up the slope and into the trees. His paws followed the trail home, and his lungs stung harder with each frosty breath, until he skidded, panting, to a halt outside the thorn barrier.

Poppyfrost met him when he wove his way through. “Cherrykit can’t breathe!”

Jayfeather pushed past the queen and hurried across the clearing. He could hear the kit’s paws scuffing the snow outside the nursery.

Anxiety sparked from Daisy. “We kept her outside like you told us, but now she’s wheezing.”

Jayfeather stopped Cherrykit with a flick of his tail and pressed his ear to her flank. There was thickness in her chest that rattled every time she breathed in. “Has she been coughing?” he asked Poppyfrost.

“A little,” the queen answered.

“Take her inside.”

“What about the fresh air?” Daisy demanded.

“She needs rest now.” Jayfeather nosed Cherrykit toward her mother. “Wash her. Keep her damp. It’ll keep her cool.”

Cherrykit yelped with indignation as Poppyfrost scooped her up and squeezed into the nursery.

Daisy trotted after Jayfeather as he headed for his den. “Are you fetching herbs for her?”

“I will, if she gets worse.”

“Why not now?”

Jayfeather turned. “I don’t have enough,” he hissed under his breath.

“What about the leaves Rosepetal brought in?”

“That was yarrow,” Jayfeather explained. “Only good for expelling poison.”

“But whoever found those leaves might be able to find tansy or catmint.”

“When I find out who it was, I’ll ask them.” Jayfeather wanted to get back to his den and check Sandstorm.

“Is something wrong with Cherrykit?” Sorreltail was hurrying toward them.

“Just a little wheezing,” Jayfeather told her.

“Is Cherrykit sick?” Jayfeather prickled with frustration as Dovepaw dropped a sour-smelling squirrel and joined them.

“Just some wheezing!” he repeated.

Daisy’s tail swished. “He sent Mousewhisker to his nest earlier because he was coughing.”

“And Bumblestripe was coughing half the night,” Sorreltail added.

Leafpool’s mew sounded close by. “Sandstorm hasn’t left the medicine den all morning.”

Was the whole Clan going to join in? Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Stop worrying! I can—”

Dovepaw cut Jayfeather off. “There’s greencough in ShadowClan,” she mewed.

Leafpool’s breathing quickened.

“Greencough?” Daisy’s mew was barely a whisper.

Jayfeather thrust his muzzle toward Dovepaw. “How bad is it?”

Dovepaw’s pads brushed the snow as she shifted her paws. “J-just Littlecloud.” Her mew was suddenly awkward.

“No one else?” Jayfeather pressed. She must have been listening in to the ShadowClan camp. He knew how uncomfortable she was about spying on other cats.

“No.”

“Good.” He flicked his tail. He needed to distract the others before they started wondering how Dovepaw knew what was going on in ShadowClan. “Why don’t you and Sorreltail fetch Cherrykit a wet moss ball?” he suggested to Daisy. “And Dovepaw, put that stinky old squirrel on the fresh-kill pile before someone trips over it.” He headed toward the medicine den.

Leafpool followed him. “What are you going to do?”

“About what?”

She was almost treading on his heels. “About Littlecloud?”

“Pray to StarClan.”

“Is that all?”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Help him!” Leafpool’s mew was sharp.

“Why?”

“You’re a medicine cat!”

Jayfeather halted and faced Leafpool. She didn’t know that StarClan had ordered him to cut ties with the other medicine cats, and he wasn’t about to tell her. When she’d given up being a medicine cat, she’d given up the right to share with StarClan. But he understood her. He’d shared tongues and gossip with Littlecloud at the Moonpool enough times to have formed a bond with the old ShadowClan cat. He lowered his voice. “There’s enough sickness here without worrying about other Clans,” he murmured. “My supplies are low. I need every scrap to treat our Clanmates.”

Leafpool didn’t reply. Her silence made his pelt prick. “There is nothing I can do, even if I wanted to,” he hissed. He turned and headed for his den.

Could you let a cat die because StarClan told you to? Mothwing’s words echoed in his ears.

Leafpool’s gaze burned his pelt. Jayfeather could see her thoughts, clear as dreaming. They were focused on the patch of herbs he’d nursed beside the old Twoleg nest. Would she steal them to help Littlecloud?

No!

Yet he couldn’t risk it. Her connection with Littlecloud was long and deep. He veered away from the medicine den, tasting the air. Brambleclaw was below Highledge, talking with Spiderleg and Berrynose.

“Brambleclaw?” He padded toward the ThunderClan deputy.

“Yes?”

“I need to ask you something,” Jayfeather whispered.

“What?” Brambleclaw lowered his voice.

“There’s sickness in the camp,” Jayfeather began. “Only whitecough, but that’s enough. The herb patches I’ve grown are more precious than ever. I want you to post a guard around them.”

“A guard?” Surprise sharpened Brambleclaw’s mew. “You don’t think anyone would steal them?”

“There’s sickness in ShadowClan, too,” Jayfeather explained. “They know about the herbs. They were planning to take our territory to get their paws on them, remember?”

Brambleclaw’s tail swished through the air. “That was part of Ivypaw’s dream,” he growled.

“Exactly,” Jayfeather meowed. Ivypaw’s dream may not have come from any cat in StarClan, but maybe it had its uses after all. “And the forest is full of starving prey who might be grateful for a few juicy stems.”

“Berrynose! Spiderleg!” Brambleclaw summoned the two warriors. “Do you know where Jayfeather’s herb patches are, beside the Twoleg nest?”

“I do,” Spiderleg answered.

“I want them guarded, day and night.”

Jayfeather stepped forward. “No cat or prey must get near them,” he urged. “They’re too precious to lose.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe!” Berrynose bounded away.

“I’ll send a relief patrol at sundown,” Brambleclaw called as the two warriors pounded across the clearing.

Jayfeather closed his eyes. The Dark Forest was growing in strength. The cats in StarClan were frightened. And now he didn’t trust his Clanmates. The ground seemed to rock beneath his paws.

“I must stay strong,” he murmured to himself. “I must stay strong.”

Chapter 20

Dovepaw crouched behind a tangle of ivy. She flattened her belly against the snow, keeping low in the gully so that no moon shadow spread out behind her.

Paw steps had nearly reached the top of the gully. Opening her mouth, she tasted the familiar scent. Her belly fluttered. Another tail-length. She held her breath. Almost there.

“Got you!” She shot up the short, steep slope and sent Tigerheart rolling across the forest floor.

“I give up!”

She scrambled off him. “One night you’ll get here first.”

“I thought I was early tonight.” He smoothed his ruffled pelt. “It’s as if you know exactly when I leave camp!”

Dovepaw dropped her gaze. “Yeah, right,” she mumbled. “Like I can hear you creeping out of your nest.” She changed the subject. “I wonder how much longer this snow’s going to last.”

Tigerheart shrugged. “It’s better than rain.”

“But it’s impossible to go anywhere without leaving a trail.”

“A good warrior can follow a trail without snow.”

Dovepaw leaned forward and rubbed her nose against his cheek. “I could find your trail on water,” she murmured.

A purr rumbled in his throat. “I’ve missed you.”

Border scents filled the air around them, ThunderClan mingling with ShadowClan. “Should we go to the abandoned Twoleg nest?” Dovepaw suggested.

“There’s no time tonight.” Tigerheart sighed. “Blackstar’s sending out extra patrols at moonhigh and dawn.”

Dovepaw tipped her head. “Why?”

“We’re hunting for herbs as well as prey.”

“Is Littlecloud worse?”

“Yes.” His belly growled. “And the Clan’s getting hungry.”

Dovepaw pressed her cheek against Tigerheart’s. ThunderClan was lucky that whitecough hadn’t turned to greencough. “I wish I could help.” She pictured Jayfeather’s fat clumps of juicy herbs growing by the Twoleg nest, protected from the ice by heaps of bracken. “But Jayfeather’s made sure no one can take leaves from his herb patch.”

Tigerheart pricked his ears. “Herb patch?”

“The plants he’s been nursing since greenleaf.”

“He’s been growing herbs?”

Dovepaw drew away, surprised. “I thought you knew.” She frowned. “Isn’t that why ShadowClan wanted our territory?”

Tigerheart stared at her. “We never wanted ThunderClan territory.”

“But Ivy—” Dovepaw stopped herself. There was no need for Tigerheart to hear about Ivypaw’s dream. “I thought that’s why we had the battle.”

“It was Firestar who wanted territory,” Tigerheart meowed. “He asked for the clearing back.”

Dovepaw shifted her paws. Only because Ivypaw persuaded him to. She shook out her pelt. She didn’t want to argue with Tigerheart. The battle was over. “Never mind.”

“But Jayfeather has herbs.” Tigerheart leaned closer. “Which herbs?”

“Just some tansy.” The words felt sticky on her tongue. She couldn’t lie to Tigerheart, but it felt disloyal to tell him about Jayfeather’s precious supply. “A bit of catmint.”

“Catmint?” Tigerheart’s eyes shone. “Would he let us have some?”

Dovepaw felt hot. “Leafpool’s asked him to give you some already.”

“And?”

“He said no.”

“But Littlecloud might die!”

“He said we have to look after our own Clan.” Dovepaw wove around Tigerheart, brushing against him. Come on, Tigerheart, let’s have fun! She flicked his nose with her tail. “Let’s see who can climb highest.” She glanced up at the pine beside them, wondering if her claws were strong enough yet to make it up the trunk to the lowest branch. It stuck out high above her head.

“Did you hear me?” Tigerheart snapped. “Littlecloud might die.”

Dovepaw dropped her gaze, her heart sinking. “I could steal some,” she offered. Her belly twisted.

“No.” Tigerheart was firm. “You can’t steal from your own Clan for me.”

Relief swamped her. “I can try and persuade Jayfeather to give you some.”

Tigerheart touched his nose to hers. “Thank you,” he murmured. Dovepaw felt a rush of affection for him. “I just hope we get some herbs soon,” Tigerheart went on. “Otherwise the Clan is going to starve to death while we’re scraping the forest floor for leaves.”

“Watch this.” Dovepaw scuttled backward to the top of the slope. She was going to distract Tigerheart even if it meant falling on her nose. She crouched, pushed up hard with her hind legs, and stretched her forepaws back over her head, trying to reach her tail. Arcing her belly toward the sky, she reached for the ground, praying that she’d manage to complete the backflip.

She landed on her chin with a thump that knocked the wind from her. Thrusting her claws through the snow into the frozen forest floor, she managed to stop herself from rolling down the slope.

Tigerheart was purring with amusement. “Smooth landing.”

“Keep watching.” She scrabbled to her paws and crouched down, ready to try again, but Tigerheart laid his tail over her shoulders.

“Wait a moment.”

“What?” She looked at him.

His front paw flicked up and a clump of snow hit her on the nose.

“Hey!” Dovepaw leaped to her feet, scooped up a pawful, and flung it at him. Tigerheart ducked as the snow sailed past his ear. Dovepaw lunged at him playfully and tumbled him into the snow.

“Whoa!” Tigerheart pretended to lose his balance and rolled over and over down the short, steep slope, holding Dovepaw in his strong grip. She squeaked as they rolled to a halt. Out of breath, they lay entangled in each other’s paws. Dovepaw felt a surge of happiness so strong that she broke into a purr.

Then she stiffened.

“What?” Tigerheart tensed beside her.

“Paw steps.” She had forgotten to listen out for danger. Now she could hear fur brushing bracken and pads scraping over the frost-crusted snow. “Someone’s coming.”

“Who?”

Dovepaw tasted the air. Her tail bushed out. “Ivypaw!”

Too late!

Her sister’s white face appeared at the top of the slope. “I knew it!” she hissed.

Dovepaw lifted her chin. “You knew ages ago!”

“But now I’ve seen it for myself.” Ivypaw’s eyes glittered.

Tigerheart straightened up beside Dovepaw. “You’re on ShadowClan territory,” he challenged.

“So’s she!” Ivypaw snorted. “At least I’m not betraying my Clan.”

Dovepaw flashed with rage. “You betray us every night in the Dark Forest!”

Did Tigerheart flinch? Dovepaw glanced at him. His gaze was fixed on Ivypaw.

Ivypaw lifted her tail. “Are you going to tell her, Tigerheart, or should I?”

Dovepaw leaned forward, her ears flat. “Don’t start that again!” There’s no way Tigerheart would train in the Dark Forest!

Ivypaw’s gaze was still locked with Tigerheart’s. Dovepaw felt a chill along her spine.

“You see?” Ivypaw snarled at Tigerheart. “My sister doesn’t believe me.” The tip of her tail began to twitch. “Perhaps she’ll believe you.”

No! Dovepaw began to back away. Please don’t let Tigerheart be part of the Dark Forest too.

Bracken rustled behind Ivypaw. Dovepaw gasped as Tigerheart shoved her underneath a pile of dead brambles. “Stay still,” he hissed.

Dovepaw flattened herself against the ground and held her breath. The air was thick with ShadowClan scents.

“What’s happening here?” She recognized Smokefoot’s deep growl.

Tigerheart’s paws scrabbled on the snow. “I found her near the border.”

Trembling, Dovepaw peered through the tendrils. She could just make out Smokefoot and Applefur at the top of the slope. The ShadowClan warriors were glowering at Ivypaw.

Tigerheart puffed his chest out beside the ThunderClan apprentice. “I was about to bring her back to camp so Blackstar could question her.”

“Really?” Applefur narrowed his eyes. “Why were you wandering about in the middle of the night?”

Smokefoot leaned closer. “You weren’t assigned to a moonhigh patrol.”

Tigerheart met Smokefoot’s gaze. “I couldn’t sleep.”

The ShadowClan warrior turned to Ivypaw. “What are you doing on ShadowClan land?”

Dovepaw’s heart quickened.

“I was looking for prey.”

Please believe her!

“It’s a strange time to be hunting,” Applefur challenged.

“Food is scarce,” Ivypaw answered. “I thought there might be some night prey.”

“On ShadowClan land?” Smokefoot challenged.

“I didn’t realize I’d crossed the border.”

“Can’t ThunderClan apprentices smell? Come on,” Smokefoot hissed. “Let’s take her back to the camp.”

Dovepaw fought panic as she listened to the ShadowClan cats lead her sister away. Tigerheart, protect her! she pleaded silently.

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, she crawled out from the brambles and dashed for the border. Ivypaw had been captured by ShadowClan! But I can’t tell anyone!

Dovepaw’s heart seemed to stop. How could she explain why Ivypaw had been taken? She might give away her meetings with Tigerheart. How could Lionblaze or Jayfeather trust her again? Would her Clanmates ever forgive her? She pricked her ears, searching for Ivypaw, until she heard voices from the ShadowClan camp.

A kit was squeaking excitedly. “Who’s that?”

“Just a ThunderClan ’paw, dear,” a queen soothed. “Go back to your nest. It’s late.”

Dovepaw listened harder.

“Blackstar will see you in the morning.” That was Smokefoot! He must be talking to Ivypaw. “Stay here until you are fetched.”

“There’s some moss in the corner.” She heard Tigerheart’s whisper. “You can make a nest out of it. You won’t be disturbed. Just keep quiet and don’t try to escape.”

The tightness in Dovepaw’s chest eased. They were treating Ivypaw well. There would be no need for a rescue party, surely? Dovepaw padded home and crept through the dirtplace tunnel. Treading lightly, she slipped past the ferns into her den. As she curled into soft moss, she was painfully aware of Ivypaw’s cold, empty nest. Thoughts spinning, heart pounding, she closed her eyes.

The sounds of the camp woke her. Brambleclaw was organizing the hunting patrols below Highledge. Sandstorm was coughing. Poppyfrost was in the medicine den begging Jayfeather for a little tansy for Cherrykit. Ruffled and anxious, Dovepaw climbed out of her nest. She listened hard to locate the ShadowClan camp and finally heard a gruff ShadowClan warrior. “Blackstar will see you later.” A small thud made Dovepaw jump. “Eat this.” He must have thrown her some prey.

“Thank you.” Ivypaw didn’t sound frightened.

Dovepaw lifted her chin. She knew what she had to do now. “Ivypaw?” she called. She waited a few moments, then hopped out of the den.

“Ivypaw?”

Graystripe, Berrynose, Millie, and Whitewing were sitting with Icecloud and Foxleap beneath Highledge. Brambleclaw paced in front of them.

Dovepaw took a deep breath and called to them. “Has Ivypaw already left on patrol?”

Graystripe turned and glanced, puzzled, at Dovepaw. “Do you need her for something?”

Dovepaw shrugged as casually as she could. “She wasn’t in her nest when I woke up.”

Whitewing got to her paws. “I haven’t seen her.” Concern edged her mew. “Birchfall?” She called to her mate.

Birchfall paused from digging in the snow. He was unearthing a prey store. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Ivypaw?” Whitewing asked.

Birchfall looked at Dovepaw. “Isn’t she in her nest?”

Dovepaw shook her head. “She was gone when I woke up.”

Whitewing pushed her way into the apprentices’ den, popping out a moment later. “Her nest is cold. She hasn’t been in it all night.”

Birchfall’s fur spiked. “Brambleclaw?”

The Clan deputy looked up. “Is everything okay?”

“Ivypaw hasn’t slept in her nest,” Birchfall told him.

Brambleclaw glanced around the gathered warriors. “Has anyone seen her?”

“Not since last night,” Berrynose answered.

“I shared a mouse with her at sundown,” Sorreltail told him.

Cinderheart came hurrying from the dirtplace tunnel. “Did someone say Ivypaw’s missing?”

Whitewing paced at the edge of the clearing. “Her nest hasn’t been slept in.”

“It’s too cold to be out of camp for long.,” Brambleclaw meowed.

“What if she’s hurt?” Whitewing gasped.

Birchfall brushed his tail along her ruffled spine. “We don’t know that.”

“We’ll have to start searching for her,” Brambleclaw decided. He nodded to Berrynose and Graystripe. “Take a patrol each and search the forest.”

Dovepaw’s heart began to race. They mustn’t waste hunting patrols! Her thoughts whirled. She couldn’t blurt out that Ivypaw was in ShadowClan’s camp. They’d wonder how she knew.

Jayfeather! He’d understand.

Glancing furtively at her Clanmates, Dovepaw headed for the medicine den. “Jayfeather!”

“Shhh!” The medicine cat was soaking leaves in the pool. “Sandstorm’s sleeping!”

Briarlight propped herself up on the edge of her nest. “What’s wrong?”

“Ivypaw’s missing,” Dovepaw mewed. She stared at Jayfeather, willing him to hear the urgency in her mew. She had to speak to him in private.

Carefully he rolled the soaked leaf into a dripping bundle and laid it beside the pool. “Come with me,” he told Dovepaw, and padded past her. Briarlight’s eyes were sharp with curiosity as Dovepaw followed Jayfeather out of the den.

Toadstep and Icecloud were clambering over the beech. Toadstep peered down the gap between the branches and the cliff wall. “Ivypaw?”

Rosepetal was checking behind the nursery. “No sign of her here.”

“I’m guessing she’s not in camp,” Jayfeather muttered.

“I know where she is!” Dovepaw could hardly keep the words in. “I can hear her. She’s in ShadowClan’s camp!”

“What’s she doing there?” Jayfeather demanded.

“I . . . I don’t know. I can just hear her. I think they’re holding her captive. They told her to stay where she was and gave her some food and said that Blackstar would see her later.”

“How in the name of StarClan did she end up there?” Jayfeather sounded more annoyed than worried. He headed toward the rock tumble. “Let’s tell Firestar before the whole Clan starts to panic.”

Dovepaw followed him up the stones. Say as little as you can, she reminded herself. You mustn’t give anything away.

“In the ShadowClan camp?” Firestar blinked with surprise when Jayfeather told him. He turned his sharp gaze on Dovepaw. “How long has she been there?”

Dovepaw stared at him innocently. “She was in camp last night when we went to our nests, but she was gone this morning.”

“Do you think she went there herself?”

“She may have gone to the border,” Dovepaw ventured. “Perhaps they caught her there?”

“What would she be doing on the ShadowClan border?” Firestar shook his head as though he had a tick in his ear. “I can’t think of anywhere more dangerous since the battle.”

Dovepaw dropped her gaze, her pelt burning. “I—I don’t know.”

Jayfeather leaned closer to the ThunderClan leader. “Perhaps you should call off the search.”

Firestar ducked out of the den. Dovepaw trailed after him. “We believe that Ivypaw has been taken prisoner by ShadowClan,” he called down to the clearing.

Dovepaw flinched as her Clanmates stared in shock at the ThunderClan leader.

“How do you know?” Mousefur growled, padding to the center of the clearing.

Firestar shifted his paws. “She was last seen on the ShadowClan border.” He couldn’t reveal any more without giving away Dovepaw’s powers.

Thornclaw padded past Mousefur. “We should send a patrol to rescue her!”

“I want to go!” Whitewing insisted.

Thornclaw flexed his claws. “I’ll lead it.”

“We should leave now!” Birchfall yowled.

Firestar flicked his tail. “We must stay calm.”

“We can’t just leave her there!” Whitewing hissed.

“A small patrol should go and see if it’s true,” Firestar reasoned. “If it is, they can ask for her return.”

Birchfall bristled. “Ask?”

Firestar nodded. “We can’t fight them in their own camp,” he pointed out. “There are elders and kits there.”

Mousefur twitched one ear. “Don’t forget, they have Ivypaw. They might harm her if we attack.”

Firestar sat down and wrapped his tail over his paws. “Brambleclaw!” he called. “Take Brackenfur, Cloudtail, and Dovepaw.”

Dovepaw curled her claws into her pads. She wanted to stay out of this. She wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Whitewing darted forward. “I want to go with them!”

Firestar shook his head. “Brambleclaw can handle it,” he meowed. “He’ll bring Ivypaw back safely.” Whitewing turned away, growling. Firestar glanced at Dovepaw. “Off you go.”

She scrambled down the rock tumble and joined Brambleclaw, Cloudtail, and Brackenfur as they headed out of camp. “What was she doing on the border at night?” Cloudtail wondered as they headed through the trees toward ShadowClan territory.

“Surely she’s not a traitor?” Brackenfur murmured.

Never! Guilt shot through Dovepaw. It was her fault that Brackenfur doubted Ivypaw’s loyalty.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a cat has met secretly with a warrior from another Clan.” Brambleclaw’s eyes were dark, fixed on the trail.

It’s all because of me! Don’t blame her!

At the border, Brambleclaw sat down. Cloudtail stared at him. “Aren’t we going to the camp?”

“We’ll wait for a patrol,” Brambleclaw answered.

Cloudtail snorted.

“We don’t know for sure they have her,” Brackenfur pointed out.

Cloudtail began to pace the scent line. “It’s just the sort of trick ShadowClan would pull.”

Dovepaw pricked her ears. Paw steps were crunching through the snow. ShadowClan was awake and patrolling. She waited, listening over the pounding of her heart, until the paw steps came near enough for her to announce without suspicion, “I can hear something!”

Brambleclaw stood up and faced the border, fur smooth, gaze steady. Rowanclaw, Shrewfoot, and Crowfrost wove through the bushes toward them. Dovepaw forced herself to stop trembling. It’s going to be okay. She spotted Tigerheart as he slid out from behind his Clanmates. She looked down at her paws, frightened to catch his eye in case she gave her feelings away.

“Come to fetch something you’ve lost?” Crowfrost snarled across the scent line.

Cloudtail bristled. “Then you admit you’ve taken her!”

Shrewfoot glared at the white warrior. “Tigerheart found her wandering on our territory.”

Brambleclaw blinked. “Is she safe?”

Crowfrost hesitated. Dovepaw groped desperately for some sound from her sister in the ShadowClan camp.

“We haven’t hurt her,” Crowfrost murmured.

Rowanclaw and Shrewfoot exchanged glances.

“May we escort her home?” Brambleclaw addressed the ShadowClan deputy.

“Why’s he being so polite?” Cloudtail breathed into Brackenfur’s ear.

Brambleclaw flicked his tail. “You don’t want an extra mouth to feed,” he meowed to Rowanclaw.

Rowanclaw nodded. “True, but we don’t want ThunderClan apprentices wandering across our borders either.”

Rowanclaw stepped closer to the border. “You can have her back,” he growled, “in exchange for catmint.”

Dovepaw looked sharply at Tigerheart. His face betrayed nothing. Only yesterday he was worried sick about Littlecloud, and now Ivypaw was being offered in exchange for exactly the herb needed to save the ShadowClan medicine cat? He must have told his Clanmates about the herb patches. How could he?

Pain seared Dovepaw’s heart. He doesn’t really love me! He was just using me, and now he’s using Ivypaw! Dovepaw froze. Wouldn’t she do the same for her Clan? Would her loyalty lie with Tigerheart or ThunderClan?

“Catmint?” Brambleclaw echoed.

“Littlecloud’s sick with greencough,” Rowanclaw told him. “He needs catmint to survive.”

Brambleclaw looked puzzled. “Why ask like this?”

“We don’t want to harm Ivypaw,” Rowanclaw meowed. The meaning in his words was clear. “We just need catmint.”

Brambleclaw tensed, and Dovepaw guessed he was forcing himself not to react to the implied threat. Instead he nodded. “I’ll tell Firestar.” He signaled to his Clanmates with his tail and headed back toward camp.

“Why didn’t Flametail just ask Jayfeather?” Firestar stared in bewilderment at his deputy as Brambleclaw reported Rowanclaw’s demand. “We’ve always helped other Clans in the past.”

Beside him, in the clearing, Graystripe curled his lip. “And we’ve been criticized for helping,” he growled.

Jayfeather stood at the entrance to the medicine den. Dovepaw could see his claws digging into the snow.

Leafpool, watching with Squirrelflight from the halfrock, looked grief-stricken. “How sick is Littlecloud?”

Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. “Sick enough to hold an apprentice hostage.”

“I’ll go and pick the herbs,” Jayfeather muttered.

“Thank you.” Firestar nodded. “I know herbs are scarce, but Littlecloud needs them.”

Squirrelflight stepped forward. “What about Sandstorm?”

“And Cherrykit!” Daisy trotted across the clearing with her fluffy cream-colored tail held high. “She’s no better today.”

Firestar dipped his head. “We will try to see to the needs of everyone,” he meowed. “But Littlecloud and Ivypaw are in the gravest danger. We must help them first.”

Poppyfrost’s face appeared in the nursery entrance. Her eyes were round with worry. Firestar’s gaze rested on her for a moment before he turned back to Brambleclaw. “Perhaps the cat who found the yarrow can find more herbs,” he murmured.

Dovepaw wanted to creep into her nest and hide. What if Sandstorm or Cherrykit got worse? What if they died? This is all my fault!

Chapter 21

A shriveled mouse thudded in front of Ivypaw. “Eat this.”

She looked up at the dark tabby ShadowClan warrior who’d thrown it, and sniffed. “Thanks.”

The warrior stalked away, around the bramble screen that half hid Ivypaw’s corner of the ShadowClan camp.

“I don’t know why they’re giving you food.” Starlingpaw scowled at her. “You were trying to steal ours.”

Ivypaw leveled a scornful look at the young ShadowClan tom who’d been ordered to guard her. “I crossed the border by mistake.”

“Yeah, right.” Starlingpaw turned away and resumed his watch.

Ivypaw rolled her eyes. Anyone would think he was guarding a LionClan warrior. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do? Attack the warriors’ den and take over the camp?”

Starlingpaw glanced at her. “Who knows what you’re planning? ThunderClan cats are known for being sneaky.”

“ThunderClan? Sneaky?” Ivypaw couldn’t believe her ears. ShadowClan cats were the sneakiest cats in the forest. She snorted. I give up. She wasn’t going to waste time talking to this mouse-brain. She settled onto her belly and began eating the mouse. As she gnawed at the stringy meat, she peered around the edge of the bramble, past Starlingpaw’s tail, and watched the ShadowClan camp begin to stir.

Two kits tumbled out of a small hole in the bramble wall. “Come on, Dewkit!” The bigger kit—a tabby tom—crouched down, waggling his tail.

“What?” His littermate—a gray she-kit—stared at him.

The tabby dashed across the clearing. “Race you to the dirtplace!”

“That’s cheating, Sparrowkit!” Dewkit pelted after him.

A third kit fell out of the brambles. “Wait for me!” She landed and stared after them, eyes wide.

“Don’t worry, Mistkit.” A tabby queen slid out behind her. “We’ll catch up to them together.” She headed after them, Mistkit trotting at her side. The kit’s pale gray pelt was as spiky as a pinecone. When they reached the far end of the clearing, they ducked into a tunnel and disappeared from view.

Cedarheart, the graying elder, stretched outside his den. Tallpoppy squeezed out from the brambles behind him and yawned. She looked at the gray sky. “Looks like more snow’s coming.”

Cedarheart shivered. “We’ll be eating snow before long.”

A pure-white she-cat was crossing the clearing toward a small pile of mangy-looking prey. Was that a dead frog lying on the top? Ivypaw shivered. The white warrior sniffed at it and carried a piece back toward her den. Ivypaw recognized Olivenose squeezing out.

“Do you want to share this?” the white warrior offered.

“Thanks, Snowbird.” Olivenose called back over her shoulder, “Do you want to share a vole, Owlclaw?”

Ivypaw chewed on her mouse, a little surprised to see that the ShadowClan camp worked just like ThunderClan’s. What did you expect? Mice and squirrels doing the work for them?

Rowanclaw ducked into Blackstar’s den and emerged a few moments later with the ShadowClan leader. They talked for a few moments before Rowanclaw lifted his chin and called to the Clan, “Let all those ready to hunt gather for patrol.”

Pelts swarmed around him. Ivypaw strained to recognize as many warriors as she could. The shapes and colors of these cats were so like ThunderClan, more than stunted WindClan or the fat, sleek RiverClan cats.

“Ratscar, Scorchfur, Snowbird, and Applefur.” Rowanclaw nodded to each one. “You will lead the hunting patrols today. Redwillow, you take the border patrol. Tigerheart, Shrewfoot, and Crowfrost”—he flicked his tail—“you’ll be coming with me.”

Tawnypelt flicked her tail. “The snow has drifted over the training ground,” she reported. “We need to find a more sheltered clearing, or else train in camp.”

Rowanclaw nodded. “If anyone finds a suitable training area, let me know. Until then, battle training will take place here.”

The kits burst out of the dirtplace tunnel.

“Is that strange cat still here?” Sparrowkit squeaked. “The one Tigerheart brought back last night?”

The warriors glanced at one another, surprised. Ivypaw stiffened as, one by one, the cats began to turn and stare at the sheltered corner where she was crouching. She wasn’t going to hide like she’d done something wrong to their precious territory. Puffing out her chest, she padded out from behind the brambles and met their gaze.

Rowanclaw took the center of the clearing. “Tigerheart found a ThunderClan apprentice inside our scent line last night,” he announced.

Pelts bristled behind him.

“Was she alone?” Ratscar demanded.

“The patrol didn’t find any other cats,” Rowanclaw answered. “No warrior scent has been found.”

“Are you sure?” Olivenose flattened her ears. “They could be trying to take more of our territory!”

“We’re not!” Ivypaw couldn’t stop herself calling out.

Starlingpaw turned on her, bristling. “Be quiet!”

Ivypaw scowled at him as Tawnypelt padded forward and turned to her Clanmates. “She’s just an apprentice.”

Rowanclaw sat down and wrapped his tail over his paws. “We’re holding her for now,” he meowed. “No doubt ThunderClan will look for her soon. Until then, she’s no threat.”

“Yeah,” grunted Starlingpaw. “No threat.”

Ivypaw fought the urge to cuff him around the ear.

Rowanclaw flexed his claws. “The patrols must leave,” he ordered. “We can’t waste hunting time.”

Ratscar, Scorchfur, Snowbird, and Applefur began to weave among their Clanmates, assembling their patrols. Within moments they were thundering through the brambles, out into the pine forest.

A tiny mew made Ivypaw turn. “Hey, Thundercat!”

Sparrowkit had leaped past the bramble screen and was facing her, back arched and fur on end. Ivypaw broke into a purr as Dewkit leaped out after him and Mistkit peeped, trembling, around the prickly stems.

“Can you fly?” Sparrowkit demanded.

Ivypaw blinked. “Fly?”

“The warriors said you flew down from the trees in the battle.”

“Oh, yes.” Ivypaw nodded. “All ThunderClan cats can fly.”

“Liar,” growled Starlingpaw.

Ivypaw shrugged. “It’s not my fault that ShadowClan kits have poppy seeds for brains.”

Sparrowkit raced at her, spitting. “No we don’t.”

Ivypaw ducked and snarled in his face, baring her teeth. The kit’s pelt bushed, and his eyes widened with terror. “Kinkfur! Help!” With a squeal, he turned and hared away. Mistkit and Dewkit went wailing after him.

Starlingpaw turned on her. “What did you do that for?”

“Sorry.” Ivypaw winced. “I didn’t think I’d scare them that much.” Her pelt burned. “I was just joking.”

“Those kits have been raised on tales about ThunderClan warriors who eat kits for fun!” Starlingpaw snapped.

Ivypaw stared at him. “Really?”

“They’ll have bad dreams for days.”

“Let me go and apologize,” Ivypaw offered.

The brambles rustled, and Blackstar stalked in. “You will apologize,” he growled. “But not yet.”

Ivypaw straightened up. Blackstar was huge. His one black paw was the size of her head. “I’m really sorry,” she mewed.

Blackstar’s whiskers twitched. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to put you on the fresh-kill pile yet.” His eyes seemed to glow. Was he amused? He scanned the corner she’d been held in, glancing down at the half-eaten mouse at her paws. “Sorry to keep you like this. Have you had enough to eat?”

“Yes.” Hastily, Ivypaw pushed the mouse toward him. “I don’t want to use up your food. Prey is scarce.”

Blackstar dipped his head. “I expect you want to go home.”

Ivypaw felt her eyes glisten. “Yes.”

“You’ll be back in your camp soon enough.” He gazed past her. “First, there’s a bargain to be struck. ThunderClan has something we need.” He turned and padded away.

Ivypaw watched him go, unease pricking her belly. “A bargain?” she echoed.

Starlingpaw shrugged. “Perhaps we’re going to swap you for food.”

Tawnypelt padded around the jutting brambles. “Are you all right?” The sympathy in the tortoiseshell’s mew made Ivypaw more homesick than ever.

“I’m fine.” She swallowed against the lump rising in her throat. “What do you want to swap me for?”

“Herbs,” Tawnypelt answered. “Littlecloud’s sick. We need catmint and tansy. Tigerheart told us that Jayfeather has been growing some.”

“Tigerheart?” Ivypaw was confused. But Tigerstar told me that ShadowClan knew about the herbs ages ago. That’s why they’d wanted to invade ThunderClan territory. Had Tigerstar lied?

“He overheard some ThunderClan warriors talking about it yesterday,” Tawnypelt told her.

No he didn’t! Anger throbbed in her ears. Dovepaw told him! How could her sister betray her Clan like that? Ivypaw stared around her prison. How could she betray me?

Tawnypelt padded closer. “Don’t worry, dear.” Her eyes were round. “I’m sure Jayfeather will happily give up a few herbs on your behalf. You’ll be home in no time.”

Ivypaw backed away, bristling.

“Would you like to use the dirtplace?” Tawnypelt offered. “You could stretch your legs. You must be stiff, holed up here.” She waved Starlingpaw away with her tail. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Tawnypelt took her across the camp. The clearing was long and wide. All the dens were neatly tucked away inside the camp wall. Ivypaw was impressed. It was perfect for practicing battle moves. Dawnpelt, lying near the edge, looked up from the frog she was chewing and scowled. Sparrowkit was huddling beside Kinkfur. Dewkit and Mistkit were nowhere to be seen. Cedarheart and Tallpoppy had made nests in the snow outside their den and watched her pass.

Ivypaw felt hot under her pelt. She was relieved to duck through the tunnel to the dirtplace while Tawnypelt waited in the clearing. The dirtplace was outside the camp wall, and Ivypaw wondered if she could slip away and make it to the border.

“Are you finished?” Tawnypelt called.

Ivypaw pushed the idea away. The forest was full of patrols that all knew the territory better than she did. She kicked snow over her dirt and headed back through the tunnel. “I want to apologize to the kits,” she told Tawnypelt as she emerged.

“What for?”

“I frightened them.”

Tawnypelt purred. “I thought Sparrowkit was looking a little quieter than usual.” She led Ivypaw across the clearing toward Kinkfur. As they neared, Mistkit squirmed out of the den and hid behind the tabby queen. Dewkit followed and ducked under Kinkfur’s tail.

Sparrowkit, trembling, lifted his chin. “You don’t scare me!” he growled.

“Good—”

A shriek ripped across the camp, and Flametail came racing through a gap in the brambles, wild-eyed and with his fur bushed up.

Tawnypelt bristled. “What is it?” She raced over to the terrified medicine cat.

“Darkness!” Flametail gasped. “Cold, sucking darkness.” The ginger tom’s eyes were black with terror.

Blackstar rushed out of his den. “What’s the matter?” He barged past Smokefoot and stared at the medicine cat.

Flametail’s gaze fixed on his leader. “There is a great darkness coming,” he hissed. “I’ve felt it, all around me. It will engulf ShadowClan like an endless wave and suck us down to our doom.”

Blackstar thrust his face closer. “What can we do?”

“We must prepare to fight. StarClan was right. We are alone, and we must fight for our lives!”

Smokefoot leaned forward. “Who? Who must we fight?”

Flametail shook his head. “I couldn’t see.”

“It must be the other Clans,” Blackstar snarled. “If StarClan says we fight alone, it must be them that we fight!”

Kinkfur trembled beside Ivypaw and swept her kits closer with her tail. The brambles shivered. Ivypaw turned to see Tigerheart pad into camp. Rowanclaw, Shrewfoot, and Crowfrost followed.

Flametail straightened up, calmness flooding his mew. “The greatest battle in the history of the Clans is coming, and we must prepare to meet it.”

Tigerheart’s broad shoulders stiffened. He glanced backward, catching Ivypaw’s eye. We are being prepared already, he seemed to say.

Ivypaw didn’t feel comforted. Flametail’s prophecy of doom had scared her; she wanted her Clanmates around her, and Firestar to decide which battles should be fought and which could be left for another day.

If the greatest battle ever was coming, Ivypaw wanted to be home before it arrived.

Chapter 22

Dovepaw paced outside the thorn barrier with her ears pricked. She could hear the patrol heading back from the ShadowClan border with Brambleclaw in the lead. Brackenfur and Graystripe padded after, their paws heavy on the snow. Ivypaw was with them, tailed by Squirrelflight.

Dovepaw was unnerved by the patrol’s silence. They didn’t scold Ivypaw for her carelessness in getting caught. They didn’t ask her what had happened in ShadowClan’s camp. Her pelt itched with anticipation. Would Ivypaw forgive her for letting ShadowClan take her prisoner?

The patrol appeared at the top of the slope and headed down toward the camp. Dovepaw tried to catch Ivypaw’s eye, but her sister’s gaze followed her paws, dark with worry.

“Are you okay?” Dovepaw fell in beside Ivypaw. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“She’s fine,” Squirrelflight told her. “Let her rest.”

“Won’t Firestar want to speak to her?”

Squirrelflight shook her head. “What’s done is done.” She sighed. “Ivypaw knows she made a stupid mistake. She won’t do it again.”

Dovepaw paused. Didn’t they want to question Ivypaw about what she’d been doing on the border in the middle of the night?

Ivypaw headed straight for her den.

“Please talk to me!” Dovepaw pleaded.

Ivypaw stopped and looked at her with clouded eyes. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m just tired.”

“Really?” Dovepaw leaned closer.

Ivypaw nodded and turned away.

Stones cracked on the pile of rocks beside the cliff. Firestar’s orange pelt glowed in the twilight as he bounded down from Highledge. “Did everything go okay?” he asked Brambleclaw.

“We gave them the herbs; they gave us Ivypaw,” the deputy reported.

“Any idea how they caught her?” Firestar prompted.

“She said she was trying night hunting on the border and strayed over the scent line.”

Thornclaw was frowning outside the warriors’ den. “You shouldn’t have sent such senior warriors to fetch her,” he grumbled. “It shows too much respect.”

Dustpelt paced around him, tail whipping. “If any ThunderClan cat dies because we have no herbs, ShadowClan will have blood on their fur.”

Guilt clawed at Dovepaw as she stared after her sister.

“Come on,” Squirrelflight murmured in her ear. “Leave Ivypaw to rest. It’s time to leave for the Gathering.”

Dovepaw spun around. “I’d completely forgotten!” She glanced up at the fat white moon. If she saw Tigerheart tonight, what would she say to him?

Thornclaw and Dustpelt were already waiting by the tunnel. Firestar’s tail disappeared through the brambles at the medicine den entrance. Dovepaw guessed he was checking on Sandstorm before he left. Sorreltail padded across the clearing with Blossomfall and Rosepetal, fur fluffed against the cold. Berrynose, Foxleap, and Lionblaze emerged from the shelter of the warriors’ den.

Squirrelflight waited beside the nursery until Leafpool slid out of the entrance. “How’s Cherrykit?” the orange warrior asked.

“Her breathing’s a little rough, but she still has her appetite,” Leafpool answered. They headed for the barrier.

Brambleclaw glanced over to the medicine den, breath billowing at his nose, as Firestar and Jayfeather padded out. “Let’s go.”

They headed for the lakeshore. Jayfeather stuck close to Lionblaze’s side as the patrol headed down the bank. The snow had drifted deep in places, but Lionblaze guided his littermate through a gap and dug a channel to where the breeze from the lake had blown the snow thin enough to cross easily.

“Dovepaw?” Lionblaze called to her softly.

She hurried to catch up to him. “What?”

“Do you know what Ivypaw was doing on the border?” Lionblaze hissed. Beside him, Jayfeather’s ears were pricked.

“It didn’t have anything to do with the Dark Forest,” Dovepaw whispered. “She was just . . .” She groped for a reason. “Practicing her night hunting, like she said.” Jayfeather’s tail twitched, and Dovepaw focused hard on believing that was what Ivypaw had been doing. She didn’t want Jayfeather spying on her thoughts and discovering the truth.

“Look!” Squirrelflight was staring up the hillside. They were crossing WindClan’s shore, and high on the moorland, the silhouettes of WindClan warriors were lined along the crest.

“What are they waiting for?” Thornclaw growled.

Foxleap shook snow from his tail. “Perhaps they don’t want to arrive first.”

The moon glinted on the WindClan warriors, sending long shadows spilling down the smooth, white hillside.

“Come on.” Firestar quickened the pace. “The sooner we get into the shelter of the island, the better.”

Dovepaw waited for Rosepetal and Blossomfall to catch up, then matched their pace. Blossomfall was fretting. “I hope they’ll be okay.”

“Briarlight will be happy being left in charge of the medicine den,” Rosepetal pointed out.

“But Bumblestripe’s been coughing all day,” Blossomfall sighed. “What if he takes a turn for the worse?”

“Jayfeather put Brightheart in charge,” Rosepetal reminded her. “She’ll know what to do.”

Dovepaw reached out with her senses, up the WindClan slopes where the heather creaked under the layers of snow. The warriors waiting at the top made no sound, only watched. Unease began to prick Dovepaw’s belly. She stretched her senses farther, back to ShadowClan territory.

“It could be a trap.” Crowfrost’s mew was sharp with worry.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t go.”

Blackstar cleared his throat. “We must not show fear,” he meowed. “They won’t attack under the full-moon truce.”

“Can you be sure?” Snowbird demanded.

“It’s a Gathering!” Tawnypelt declared. “They wouldn’t dare!”

Who are they frightened of? Had StarClan warned them about the Dark Forest warriors? Dovepaw turned her ears toward RiverClan.

“Are you coming?” Mothwing was calling across the camp.

Willowshine’s reply was firm. “I’m staying here.”

“Will they obey the truce?” Reedwhisker muttered.

Mosspelt’s paws pattered over the snow. “Perhaps we should hide the kits and elders until they’ve left the island.”

Fear was darkening every Clan like clouds across the moon.

Dovepaw could hear RiverClan warriors pacing the clearing when ThunderClan reached the island. She nosed her way past Blossomfall and Rosepetal and crouched on the shore beside Jayfeather and Lionblaze. “They know!” she whispered.

Lionblaze blinked at her. “Who knows?”

“The other Clans! They know about the Dark Forest.”

“You’re imagining it.” Jayfeather’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Only we know about the Dark Forest.”

Dovepaw realized that she hadn’t actually heard any cat mention the Dark Forest. “Well, they’re scared of something,” she hissed.

“I know,” Jayfeather agreed. “I can sense it in the air. The medicine cats must have told their Clanmates about StarClan’s warning.”

“Perhaps we should tell our Clanmates,” Dovepaw suggested.

“And scare them to death?” Lionblaze dug his claws into the snow. “We can deal with whatever’s coming by ourselves.”

“Look!” Foxleap called from the edge of the water. “It’s solid all the way to the island!” The young warrior was already slithering across the frozen lake.

Dovepaw padded to the edge and put out a tentative paw. The ice burned, but as her pad grew numb, she tried another paw, and another, until she was standing on the hard white surface.

“Come back!” Sorreltail called. “It might break!”

“Don’t worry,” Foxleap yowled. “It’s shallow here.” With unsteady paws he wobbled farther out, picking up speed and falling into a clumsy skid. “Whoa!” He slithered to a halt, purring. “Try it, Blossomfall! It’s fun.”

Blossomfall hurtled after him, yowling with surprise and pleasure as she glided over the ice. Dovepaw’s heart lurched as her paws slid underneath her. Tensing to stay upright, she picked her way across. Every muscle felt stiff with fear, but it was still thrilling to be walking across the lake. She could see the dark shadow of water lapping beneath the moon-white surface. With every paw step, the ice groaned and creaked.

“Come on!” Firestar’s sharp order sounded from the island shore. “Get off there.”

Dovepaw’s claws scraped the ice as she fought to grip it, and she slithered ungraciously onto the snowy shore, relieved to feel solid earth beneath her.

Brambleclaw and Dustpelt were already pushing through the bracken toward the clearing in the pine trees. Dovepaw slipped through the crackling fronds, lost for a moment as her Clanmates disappeared around her. She followed the sound of their fur brushing stems until she slid out onto the edge of the clearing. The RiverClan warriors froze, as though trapped in ice, while they watched ThunderClan arrive.

“What’s up with them?” Rosepetal whispered.

Firestar headed for the Great Oak and climbed onto one of the snow-laden roots. The RiverClan cats drew closer to one another like fish bunching into a shoal. Dovepaw eyed them warily and padded closer to Blossomfall.

“What’s spooking them?” Blossomfall hissed.

“Who knows?” Dovepaw stared at her paws.

The bracken behind her crunched, and she turned to see WindClan flooding into the clearing. She bristled, surprised that they were here already. She’d lost track of them while she’d played on the ice. They filed around ThunderClan, hardly making eye contact. Breezepelt’s gaze grazed Dovepaw’s but quickly jerked away.

Dustpelt was pacing. “I’ve never heard it so quiet.”

“Isn’t anyone going to share tongues?” Squirrelflight gazed around, puzzled.

The ShadowClan patrol came last, tense and round-eyed. Dovepaw spotted Tigerheart’s dark brown ear tips. He didn’t look around for her, but stayed in the knot of his Clanmates. Dovepaw felt a jab of frustration. How could things change so quickly? Each Clan was acting like it was at war with the others. Was it StarClan who had sown the seeds of mistrust, or the Dark Forest warriors?

“It’s so cold; we must be quick!” Mistystar called from the lowest branch of the Great Oak. Firestar sat a little farther along the branch, Onestar and Blackstar stiff as owls beyond him.

RiverClan and WindClan gathered closest to the tree. ShadowClan hurried to take its place beside them. Dovepaw followed her Clanmates as they padded into a pool of moonlight and settled down to listen. She nosed her way past Rosepetal and Blossomfall, seeking the warmth of the crowd and settling between Thornclaw and Lionblaze.

Mistystar, huddled in the moonlight, looked like a small pool of silver. “It’s a tough leaf-bare, and with the lake frozen in the shallows, hunting has been hard.”

Nightcloud growled. “It makes a change for the fish-eaters to go hungry as well.”

Mistystar pressed on. “The bad weather has not kept us from training, and we are thankfully free of sickness.”

Onestar stood. “WindClan too is healthy, though rabbits are scarce and the snow is thick around the camp. We have improved our tracking skills and found a way to trace prey to its burrows.”

He nodded to Blackstar, who stood and gazed down at the gathered cats for several long heartbeats. “Rowanclaw has become ShadowClan’s deputy,” he announced at last, appearing to choose his words carefully. “We still mourn the loss of Russetfur. It was not her time to die.” He didn’t look at Firestar, but went on, “Hunting has been hard, and Littlecloud has been ill. But I’m pleased to report that we have found a remedy, and he will be here with us next full moon.”

Murmurs of approval rose from the ShadowClan cats. Dovepaw felt Thornclaw tense beside her and heard Lionblaze’s claws scrape the snowy ground.

Firestar stood up. His gaze was fixed on Blackstar. “And how did you find that remedy?” he challenged. Dovepaw heard breaths quicken and paws shift as the Clans tensed around her. Firestar didn’t wait for an answer. “You took one of our apprentices hostage, that’s how.”

There were muffled gasps from RiverClan and WindClan warriors.

“She was on our land!” Blackstar hissed.

“And you would have been within your rights to chase her off,” Firestar shot back. “But what true warrior takes a cat, too young to defend herself, and bargains with her like she was prey?”

Blackstar bared his teeth as Firestar pressed on. “A true warrior would have the courage to ask for what he wants.” The ThunderClan leader arched his back. “You’re lucky we didn’t strike back more harshly. We’ve beaten you once already this moon. Don’t think we wouldn’t do it again.”

Blackstar smoothed his fur. His eyes were slits. “Whatever happens,” he breathed, “ShadowClan will be ready.”

“We’re ready now!” Rowanclaw jumped to his paws, pelt bristling, at the bottom of the tree. Crowfrost and Smokefoot stood up beside him and glared into the crowd, their eyes fixed on the ThunderClan warriors.

Lionblaze curled his lip, and a growl rasped in Squirrelflight’s throat. Dustpelt flattened his ears. Gulping, Dovepaw unsheathed her claws. Were they going to fight here? She glanced at the bright, clear moon. There was no cloud in the sky to end the truce.

Dovepaw heard whispers spread through the Clans.

“Is this it?”

“Has the darkness come?”

“But the moon is still shining!”

That didn’t seem to matter. Every pelt was on end now. Eyes flashed in the moonlight as the warriors glared, half-wary, half-threatening, at the other Clans.

Mistystar got to her paws. “RiverClan! We’re going home.” She leaped down from the oak and led her Clan through the bristling warriors. Onestar jumped down after her, Blackstar following. They took their Clans out of the clearing in silence.

Dovepaw watched as Firestar scrambled down last from the oak. At the far side of the clearing, the bracken rattled and hissed as the Clans pushed their way through it.

I must speak to Tigerheart!

She raced after the departing cats, finally spotting the tip of his tail. She clawed at it, just scraping the tuft at the end, and he turned and glared at her.

“What?”

“We have to talk!”

His eyes softened. “Come on.” He guided her to a quieter spot, where the stiff bracken stems gave way to snow-covered mounds of grass. “Sorry I couldn’t talk to you before, but things are tense,” he murmured.

Dovepaw scowled at him. “You told Blackstar about Jayfeather’s herbs!”

He gazed steadily back at her without saying anything.

“How could you?” Dovepaw wailed. “If Sandstorm dies, it’ll be your fault!”

“But Littlecloud’s sick.”

“So is Sandstorm!”

“Not with greencough.”

Dovepaw’s rage grew. Tigerheart sounded so reasonable. Didn’t he understand what he’d done? Tigerheart stroked her flank with his tail, and she flinched.

He frowned. “If Jayfeather were a true medicine cat, he would have given us the herbs.”

“He has to put his own Clanmates first!”

Tigerheart tipped his head to one side. “So do I.”

Dovepaw felt sick. She wanted this conversation to stop now, but she had to know. “Even above me?”

Tigerheart’s tail quivered. “I didn’t mean it like that.” His amber eyes grew round. “I just—”

Dovepaw cut him off, her mew barely a whisper. “I think you did.” She turned and padded away. “I think that’s exactly what you meant.”

Chapter 23

Ivypaw curled into her nest. Snow swished and paws shifted as her Clanmates pounded out of camp and headed for the island. She tucked her nose under her paw.

I’m doing it to be a better warrior! She closed her eyes. I’m doing it for my Clan!

As sleep slid around her, she opened her eyes. She was in the Dark Forest. She tasted the air, scenting nothing beyond the sourness of the earth and the reek of mold on the trees. “Hawkfrost?” Her mew echoed through the trees. She needed to see his face. He wants me to be a great warrior, that’s all.

She padded along a mossy trail. The warmth of soil felt strange against her paws after the sting of snow. The trees parted, and the slimy river rolled in front of her. With a flicker of satisfaction she remembered dunking Darkstripe beneath the water with Hollowpaw.

She followed the dark water for a few paces before spotting light through the trees. She veered onto a path that wound deep into the forest. The light glowed stronger, and she quickened her pace. Thick trunks reared up more tightly around her. Ivypaw kept her gaze fixed on the light. As she neared it, she realized that it glowed from a strange gray fungus, which sprouted from the tree trunks and crowded between their roots. Was the fungus reflecting the moon?

Ivypaw strained to see the round white moon. It must be full here too, right? But the branches grew too thickly overhead. There was no sign of sky or moon. The branches began to clatter, though no wind stirred the forest. A shiver ran along Ivypaw’s spine. Don’t be silly. She pressed on.

With a rush of relief, she heard voices and hurried forward. Beyond the clustering trunks, Tigerheart and Tigerstar were talking.

“You’re late.” Tigerstar sounded angry.

Ivypaw pricked her ears to hear Tigerheart’s reply.

“I had to go to the Gathering.”

“Training is more important.”

She ducked behind a tree and peered through the shadows. Tigerstar circled Tigerheart. “Don’t you know who your real Clanmates are yet?” he growled. “Don’t I deserve your loyalty more than those mouse-eaters?”

Ivypaw stiffened. Was Tigerstar trying to turn Tigerheart against ShadowClan?

She heard a thump. Tigerheart groaned. Ivypaw slipped forward, ducking behind the next tree before peeking out. Tigerstar had Tigerheart pinned to the ground.

“That’s the same mistake you made in the battle with ThunderClan,” Tigerstar sneered before letting Tigerheart go.

Tigerheart scrambled up. “What did I do wrong?”

“Don’t watch my paws.” Tigerstar lunged forward, as if to knock the ShadowClan warrior’s hind legs out from under him. Tigerheart bucked, flicking his back paws high and out of the way, but Tigerstar twisted faster. While Tigerheart avoided the lunge, the dark warrior nipped the young warrior’s scruff between his teeth. He dragged him off balance, and Tigerheart landed with a thump on his side.

“Never forget that paws fight, but jaws kill,” Tigerstar growled, backing off.

Tigerheart jumped up. “I won’t,” he panted.

“Lionblaze knows that,” Tigerstar snarled. “That’s how he killed Russetfur. If you can’t match those ThunderClan weaklings, you are nothing.”

Ivypaw gasped. Tigerstar lied to me! He’s not loyal to ThunderClan at all! Tightness gripped her chest, and she struggled to steady her breathing. He’s been telling Tigerheart the same things he’s been telling me. He hasn’t been training me to help ThunderClan at all.

“When the final battle comes”—Tigerstar was still talking—“wasting time at Gatherings won’t help you. It’ll be us against four Clans and their puny ancestors. Then we’ll see who the real warriors are.”

Ivypaw fled. She raced through the forest, the trees blurring on either side. This must be the battle Flametail had seen in his vision. This was why Hawkfrost had recruited her.

She wasn’t special.

She was stupid.

Tigerstar didn’t want to help ThunderClan. He wanted to wage war against the Clans. And he was using their own warriors against them!

Gasping, Ivypaw stumbled to a halt. The river blocked her path, sliding silently before her. How do I get home? She blinked and blinked again.

Wake up! Wake up!

“Are you okay, little one?”

For a moment Ivypaw imagined she was back in the nursery, Daisy murmuring over her. She snapped open her eyes and saw Mapleshade. The orange-and-white warrior was gazing at her with a mocking gleam in her eyes.

“Leave me alone!” Ivypaw hissed.

“Are you having a bad dream, dear?” Mapleshade sneered.

Ivypaw shrank from Mapleshade’s stinking breath. “Why don’t you just fade away to nothing?”

Mapleshade flexed her claws. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere until I’ve settled a few scores.”

Ivypaw forced herself not to start shaking. “I . . . I was looking for Hawkfrost.”

“He’s busy.” Mapleshade moved closer. “He wanted me to train you tonight.”

Ivypaw swallowed. “Really?”

“Let’s try out those river moves you learned last time.” Heart sinking, Ivypaw gazed at the river.

“Show me what you learned,” Mapleshade ordered before she turned and waded out into the water.

Ivypaw forced herself to follow. The water oozed around her paws and dragged at her pelt.

“Am I deep enough yet?” Mapleshade asked. The water was lapping the warrior’s shoulders. Ivypaw had to follow on tiptoes to keep her nose above the water. “Now what happens?” Mapleshade prompted. “Come on, you must remember your lesson.”

“I have to knock your legs from under you.”

“Go ahead then, dear.”

Get it over with quickly. Ivypaw took a breath and ducked under, gagging as the warm, slimy water washed her muzzle. She swam down toward Mapleshade’s paws and reached out to grab them. A heavy weight hit her back and pushed her deep into the water, till her chest bumped onto the riverbed. Ivypaw struggled as the blood roared in her ears. Mapleshade had her pinned down. The great she-cat’s claws pierced Ivypaw’s pelt, pressing her harder against the stones.

Ivypaw writhed on the bottom of the river, bubbles escaping her mouth. Mapleshade was pushing the air from her chest. She fought wildly, kicking out with her legs, hoping to knock Mapleshade away. Ivypaw’s lungs screamed. Blackness edged her vision. She fought the urge to suck in water.

Then her flailing hind legs struck a rock. It budged, barely the width of a whisker. Ivypaw flailed again, harder. The stone shifted, then gained speed. Mapleshade’s paws shifted as the rock rolled away. With a mighty shove, Ivypaw pushed upward, wrenching herself free as the she-warrior lost her balance.

Desperate for air, Ivypaw forced herself to stay beneath the water. She struck out with her paws and began swimming underwater as far from Mapleshade as she could. As the riverbed sloped up, she followed the curve, emerging from the water on the far bank. She slithered onto the mud, gulping for air.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mapleshade splashing around in the river, searching the riverbed with floundering paws. Low as an otter, Ivypaw crept up the bank and slunk between the trees. When she was sure the shadows hid her, she collapsed, panting, onto the ground and coughed up a lungful of black water. Exhausted, she closed her eyes.

“Ivypaw?”

Dovepaw!

She looked up, relief swamping her as she saw the edges of her nest and her sister’s face peering anxiously over its woven stems. Early dawn light was beginning to filter through the ferns.

“Are you okay?”

Ivypaw coughed again, her chest burning. “Yes,” she rasped. “I’m okay now.” She never wanted to go back to the Dark Forest, not ever. “How was the Gathering?”

“I need to ask you something.” Dovepaw was looking anxious. The Clan was beginning to stir outside the den.

“What?”

Dovepaw leaned closer as Ivypaw sat up. “Tell me about Tigerheart again.” Her ears twitched. “Is he really training in the Dark Forest?”

Ivypaw lowered her gaze. “Yes,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dovepaw sighed. “I don’t think he ever loved me.”

Ivypaw jerked up her muzzle. “Don’t say that!”

Dovepaw shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“I do!” Ivypaw leaped out of her nest and pressed against Dovepaw. “Tigerstar tricked him just like he tricked me!”

Dovepaw stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“It was all a lie—”

“Wait!” Dovepaw cut her off. “Lionblaze and Jayfeather need to hear this, too.”

Ivypaw stared at her sister. What was she talking about? What did they have to do with it?

“Just trust me.” Dovepaw nosed Ivypaw to her paws and jostled her out of the den.

Jayfeather was padding from the warriors’ den with a bundle of withered herbs in his jaws. He seemed to sense Dovepaw, because he turned his blind gaze on them and narrowed his eyes. Then he tucked the herbs under a stone by the den entrance and hurried over.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Dovepaw told him. “Where’s Lionblaze?”

“I’m here.” The golden warrior was bounding down the tumble of rocks from Highledge.

“We need to talk,” Dovepaw hissed. She headed for the entrance with Jayfeather and Lionblaze on her tail.

What’s going on? There seemed to be as many secrets here as there were in the Dark Forest.

Dovepaw led them up the steep slope outside the entrance, forged her way through the drifted snow, and hopped over a fallen tree. The ground behind was clear where the trunk had held back the drift. Dovepaw crouched against the rotting bark as Jayfeather and Lionblaze settled beside her. Ivypaw balanced on the trunk for a moment before jumping down next to them. They huddled together, cocooned from the bitter wind.

“Go on, Ivypaw,” Dovepaw prompted. “Tell them.”

Ivypaw looked from Jayfeather to Lionblaze. Their pelts were pricking with expectation. She took a deep breath and began. “I’ve been visiting the Dark Forest in my dreams.”

“Tell us something new,” Jayfeather grunted.

Ivypaw blinked. “Tigerstar’s been training me,” she went on, trying to squash the butterflies leaping in her belly. “And Hawkfrost. They told me they wanted me to be a great warrior so I could protect my Clan.”

“And you believed them?” Lionblaze snapped.

Dovepaw turned on him. “Let her tell you!” she snarled.

Ivypaw glanced gratefully at her sister. “Tigerstar said that he was loyal to ThunderClan. That he’d been born ThunderClan and he’d never stopped feeling like a ThunderClan cat.”

Jayfeather was nodding slowly. “Okay.”

“I just wanted to be as good as Dovepaw,” Ivypaw explained. “I wanted to be so good that everyone would notice me, too.”

She was relieved to see Lionblaze’s gaze soften. “You’re a good apprentice, Ivypaw, and you’re going to make a fine warrior. Don’t try competing with your sister.”

Why not? The old jealousy sparked beneath Ivypaw’s pelt. What’s so special about her? “It’s over now. I know the truth. Tigerstar and his warriors are planning to attack all the Clans. They want to destroy us. I’m never going back to the Dark Forest.” She felt bone tired as tension eased from her muscles.

“How will you stop?” Jayfeather’s mew took her by surprise.

“Stop what?”

“When you go to sleep, do you choose to dream about the Dark Forest?” Jayfeather pressed.

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “I . . . I guess not. I just wake up there,” she admitted.

Jayfeather sat up. “Good.”

What do you mean? What if I wake up there again, without wanting to? Ivypaw felt sick. “W-why is that good?”

“Because you’re going to spy for us,” Jayfeather declared.

Ivypaw started to tremble. “But I don’t want to go there again.”

“Too late.” Jayfeather shrugged. “You joined the Dark Forest. Do you think Tigerstar’s going to let you go after training you so hard?”

“But I don’t want to train anymore!”

Jayfeather wasn’t listening. His blind blue eyes seemed to be boring into hers. “They don’t know you’ve changed your mind, do they?”

Ivypaw shook her head, unable to speak.

“Then you must keep training with them and tell us everything you find out.”

Ivypaw’s chest throbbed. “You want me to spy on them?”

“Of course.” Jayfeather smoothed his whiskers with a paw. “You were ready to betray us. Why not betray them?”

Dovepaw sat up sharply. “She didn’t know she was betraying us—”

Jayfeather interrupted her. “She was training with Tigerstar,” he snapped. “How was that ever going to be good for ThunderClan?”

Lionblaze tucked his tail over his front paws. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Ivypaw felt as if she were caught in another terrible dream.

“But only,” Lionblaze went on, “if Ivypaw agrees.”

Ivypaw felt Mapleshade’s paws on her shoulders, pressing her down into the riverbed. “No!” She just wanted to be an ordinary apprentice again, fetching moss for Mousefur and Purdy, learning to hunt in a real forest with real cats. “I’m not going back.”

“You may not have the choice,” Jayfeather muttered.

Dovepaw’s tail was flicking. “Let me talk to her on my own. Please.” Lionblaze dipped his head and leaped up onto the trunk.

“Come on,” he called to Jayfeather. “Let’s leave this to Dovepaw.” Jayfeather gave a small sigh and followed his brother.

As their paw steps crunched away through the snow, Ivypaw looked at her sister. “What’s going on?”

Dovepaw settled back into a crouch. “There’s something that you still don’t know.”

“What?”

“Climb over the trunk and go do something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.” Dovepaw blinked at her. “Throw a snowball; climb a tree. It doesn’t matter. Just make sure I can’t hear you or see you.”

Puzzled, Ivypaw scrambled onto the trunk and bounded away through the snow. She looked back and saw nothing, then headed farther away. Once she knew Dovepaw wouldn’t be able to hear her, she slid behind a tree and dug a hole in the snow. Then she filled it in and hurried back to her sister.

“Well?” she panted.

“You dug a hole, and then you filled it in,” Dovepaw told her.

Ivypaw felt dizzy. “Did you follow me?”

“Did you see my paw prints?”

Ivypaw shook her head. “Then how did you know?”

Her sister was silent for a moment, gazing at her with wet blue eyes. “I can hear everything,” she blurted out. “I can smell everything too, if I set my mind to it.”

Ivypaw snorted. “Shut up! You’re just showing off again! No cat can smell and hear everything.”

Dovepaw lashed her tail. “I’m not showing off. Sometimes I wish that I were. I have special powers. I’m part of a prophecy that says three cats will have more power than the stars in their paws. Jayfeather and Lionblaze are the other two cats. That’s why they listen to me. That’s why Firestar listens to me.”

“Firestar listened to me when I told him about my dream!” Ivypaw pointed out.

“But you made it up!” Dovepaw thrust her muzzle in Ivypaw’s face. “This is real! Right now I can hear Hollowpaw getting lectured for not getting the ticks out of Pouncetail’s pelt yesterday. I can hear Dewkit and Mistkit fighting in their nest over who gets first bite of the stinky old sparrow Crowfrost brought them. I can hear Heathertail showing Harespring a new route through the thickest patch of gorse, and Onestar is washing—”

“Stop!” Ivypaw struggled to keep up. “You can really hear all that?”

Dovepaw nodded. “Everything. I heard the beavers.”

“That’s how you knew they were stopping the water!” Things that had puzzled Ivypaw for a long time were starting to make a strange kind of sense. “That’s why Firestar sent you on the mission, even though you were only an apprentice.” Her head was spinning. “So Firestar knows, too?”

“Yes, but only Firestar.”

Ivypaw’s pelt felt hot and prickly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” She didn’t give Dovepaw a chance to reply. “Didn’t you realize how much it hurt to see you being singled out like some kind of super apprentice?”

Dovepaw shuffled her paws. “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. No cat knows about Jayfeather and Lionblaze, except Firestar.”

“But they knew about each other, right? And I bet Hollyleaf knew!” Ivypaw was starting to seethe. “It’s your fault I went to the Dark Forest!!”

Dovepaw stared at her. “Wha-what do you mean?”

“The first time I met Hawkfrost, it wasn’t in the Place of No Stars; it was in a field with flowers and sunshine and stuff like that. He . . . he flattered me; he seemed interested in what I could do, not what my sister could do. No cat has ever treated me like that in this Clan. I’m just your shadow here.”

“That’s not true!” Dovepaw hissed.

“But that’s how it felt! You can’t blame me for listening to Hawkfrost, for wanting to learn all the moves that he taught me.”

“No cat is blaming you.” Dovepaw sighed.

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes to slits. “Are you sure? Lionblaze and Jayfeather don’t trust me. Maybe they want me to go back to the Dark Forest and stay there!”

Dovepaw flattened her ears. “Don’t be ridiculous! Can’t you see that we need you? Without knowing exactly what’s going on in the Dark Forest, the prophecy is useless. You got your wish: You’re the special one now.”

Ivypaw blinked. “I wish I weren’t,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

Her sister rested her tail on Ivypaw’s shoulders. “I know,” she mewed softly. “We all are, even the cats in StarClan. I think that we could be all that stands between the Dark Forest and the end of the Clans.” Suddenly she looked tiny, huddled into a crouch with the snow banked around her.

“I’ll help you if I can,” Ivypaw promised in a rush. This wasn’t just about her now—in fact, it wasn’t about her at all. It was about every cat who lived beside the lake.

“Tell Jayfeather and Lionblaze that I’ll go back. I’ll pretend I’m still one of them, and I’ll find out everything I can about their plans.”

Chapter 24

Flametail folded the catmint in an ivy leaf and pushed it into his store among the brambles. He began to lay the tansy stems side by side, ready to bundle. They blurred in front of his eyes. A yawn overtook him.

“Flametail.”

Far away someone was calling his name.

“Flametail!” Kinkfur nudged him with her nose. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Sorry.” Flametail turned, blinking. “Did you want something?” Inwardly he sighed. He didn’t know if he had energy left to help any more cats.

“Please, come and check on Mistkit. She’s lost her voice.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Flametail promised. “I have to put these away first.”

As the queen ducked out of the medicine den, Littlecloud’s nest rustled. The tabby’s brown nose appeared over the edge. “You should get some rest,” he advised. His voice was still thick, but there was more life in it than before. “Did you sleep last night?”

Flametail padded heavily over to his mentor’s nest. “A bit.”

Littlecloud’s eyes were brighter, and though his pelt was still clumped, it was freshly groomed. “I thought so.” Slowly he sat up. “You were tossing and turning.”

“Bad dream,” Flametail admitted.

“The same one?” Littlecloud prompted.

“Yes.” For the last quarter moon Flametail hadn’t had a moment’s sleep undisturbed by the same vision of falling far, far down into endless darkness while around him cats shrieked and yowled in terror.

“But no details?”

Flametail turned back to the tansy. “StarClan just sends the darkness,” he murmured. “They don’t send any clues. I don’t know who’ll strike first or how we should prepare.”

Littlecloud leaned forward. “Our warrior ancestors are with us,” he soothed. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be warning you. Perhaps they don’t know either. They’ll share it with you when they do.”

“Or with you,” Flametail countered.

A purr caught in Littlecloud’s throat. The first in a while. “Don’t worry,” he rasped. “I don’t plan to be joining our ancestors for a long time.” A cough shook him.

Flametail tensed. “Do you want more catmint?”

Littlecloud shook his head. “I’m getting better,” he assured Flametail.

“I want to be sure of that.” Flametail began to reach into his store.

“My fever has gone, and my chest is loosening. Save the catmint. Leaf-bare always drags on longer than you think.”

Flametail turned his gaze toward his denmate. “I’m glad we didn’t lose you.”

“You and me both.” Littlecloud’s eyes glowed. “Now go check on Mistkit.”

Flametail gathered the tansy stems together, putting one aside, and pushed them into the store with the catmint.

“Check Cedarheart, too,” Littlecloud went on. “I heard coughing from the elders’ den last night.”

“Okay.” Flametail picked up the tansy stem and headed for the entrance.

Kinkfur was pacing outside her den. She hurried to greet Flametail. “Mistkit was chattering like a starling this morning, but when she woke after her nap, she couldn’t speak.”

“Don’t worry.” Flametail hopped through the den entrance. “Even if she’s sick, we have herbs now.”

It was warm and dark inside the nursery. Sparrowkit was charging across the sandy floor, a moss ball only whiskers from his grasp. He batted it upward, and Dewkit jumped, snatching the ball in her paws. Sparrowkit lunged, knocking Dewkit into Flametail. Flametail dodged out of the way.

“Careful,” Kinkfur warned, pushing into the den.

Mistkit peeked out from a nest woven from hazel stems.

Sparrowkit untangled himself from Dewkit. “Mistkit’s really sick!’

“We’ll have her better in no time.” Flametail dropped the stem beside the nest. He sniffed at the kit. She was warm, but there was no sourness on her. If anything, it was whitecough. He nipped off one end of the tansy and laid it carefully at Kinkfur’s paws.

“Chew it up and give her the pulp to swallow after her next feed,” Flametail instructed.

Kinkfur nodded and pawed the stem out of the way as Sparrowkit and Dewkit bounced over to investigate.

“Blargh!” Dewkit shuddered.

Sparrowkit made a face. “Does she have to eat herbs?”

Flametail leaned down till his nose was level with theirs. “Don’t go too near her, or you’ll have to eat herbs, too.” He left Sparrowkit squeaking with disgust and nosed his way out of the den.

Cedarheart was lying outside the elders’ den, his flanks shuddering as he swallowed back a cough.

“Here.” Flametail dropped the rest of the tansy stem in front of the old tom’s muzzle. “Chew this,” he advised. “Make sure you swallow it all.”

Cedarheart pushed it away. “Save it for the young ’uns,” he croaked. “I’ve survived this long. A cough won’t harm me.”

“Probably not,” Flametail agreed. “But swallow it anyway. It’ll make my life easier.”

“In that case . . .” Cedarheart scooped up the tansy with his tongue, chewed it, grimacing, then swallowed. “I’ll be more glad to see this newleaf than I’ve ever been,” he grunted.

Flametail yawned. “I think I’d better stretch my legs,” he meowed. “Or I’ll be asleep before the dusk patrol leaves.”

He headed for the camp entrance. Outside, the air was already brittle with frost.

Shrieks sounded from the lake. Flametail pricked his ears. Was a cat in trouble? Then he recognized the voices of Redwillow and Pinepaw. They didn’t sound in fear for their lives. In fact, they sounded happy.

Paws pounded over the frozen snow toward him. A tortoiseshell pelt flashed, and Olivenose skidded to a halt beside him. She was out of breath. “We’re playing on the lake! It’s completely frozen,” she panted. “You could walk right over to RiverClan territory if you wanted.”

Dawnpelt caught up to her. “I’m going to fetch Scorchfur and Owlclaw!” She trotted past, heading for camp. “Go and play, Flametail,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ve been looking much too worried lately. Go and have some fun.” She disappeared into the brambles.

Flametail’s paws pricked. It had been a long time since he’d felt carefree. He’d been turning into an elder, obsessed with aches and pains and worrying about every cough and sneeze.

Olivenose bounded away. “Come on!”

Flametail raced after her, weaving between the bushes down to the shore. The Twoleg halfbridge jutted out into whiteness, clamped by ice. Olivenose trotted along the wooden boards and beckoned from the end with her tail. Flametail caught up to her and stood at the edge of the bridge.

The lake was completely frozen, a broad sheet of ice glowing pink under the sinking sun. Redwillow, several fox-lengths from the shore, raced over the gleaming whiteness, then flung himself down and skidded, spinning, on his belly. Yowls of amusement followed him from where Crowfrost and Ratscar stood watching. Even the senior warriors were enjoying themselves.

Olivenose jumped down from the halfbridge and landed on the ice. “Come on; it’s safe,” she called.

Nervously, Flametail hopped down, relieved to find the ice firm beneath his paws. He tentatively padded away from the halfbridge, heading for where Starlingpaw and Pinepaw were sliding stones to each other.

“What are you playing?” Flametail called.

Pinepaw jumped up. “Well done, Olivenose!” she meowed. “Now we’ve got enough players.”

Starlingpaw trotted up to Flametail. “We want to play prey-stone. It’s this game we just made up.” He called to Pinepaw. “Slide the stone over here!” He stopped the smooth fat stone with an expert paw as Pinepaw slid it fast over the ice.

“This is the prey,” he explained, pushing the stone toward Flametail. “Over there is the prey-hole.” He flicked his tail and Flametail peered across the ice.

“It’s not a real hole, but all the ice between that tree and that holly bush”—Starlingpaw flicked his tail toward the shore—“is where the stone’s safe. If you get in there, you win. If me and Pinepaw stop you, we win, and we have to swap places.”

Flametail narrowed his eyes. “Got it.” He put his paw on the stone.

Olivenose padded past him. “I’m on your team,” she told him. “Slide the stone to me if they block your path.”

Starlingpaw and Pinepaw were already taking up position guarding the “prey-hole.”

Flametail quickly realized it would be impossible just to slide the stone past them. Instead he turned and began batting it away from them. “Keep up with me!” he called to Olivenose. She scampered a few tail-lengths away from him and stayed level as he pushed the stone farther out across the lake. The ice was freezing under his paws, lightly dusted with snow, but wonderfully slippery.

Out of the corner of his eye, Flametail spotted a group of ThunderClan cats stepping gingerly onto the ice near their territory. He didn’t care. There were no boundaries on the lake. Anyway, he was a medicine cat. He could go wherever he chose. As he picked up speed, he stopped lifting his paws and let them skate over the surface instead. The wind rippled his fur, and he felt as if he were flying. He let himself glide, then shoved the stone toward Olivenose.

She stopped it with a paw and spun around. “Let’s attack!” she yowled.

Flametail turned and, matching Olivenose’s speed, headed back toward Pinepaw and Starlingpaw. They were crouched on the ice, eyes narrowed and fixed on the stone, ready to lunge and stop it whisking past them.

“Here!” Olivenose sent the stone toward him.

Flametail caught it, not missing a step as he skated forward. He batted it back to Olivenose. She was ready and parried it back toward him. Starlingpaw and Pinepaw looked from side to side, trying to follow the stone as Flametail and Olivenose flicked it between them faster and faster, all the time closing in on the prey-hole.

Flametail fixed his gaze on the gap between the two apprentices and, with an almighty shove, flung the stone across the ice. It whizzed toward the gap, straight as a diving hawk. Flametail slowed to a halt and watched it get closer and closer with excitement rising in his belly.

“I’ve got it!” Pinepaw yelled to her denmate, and flung herself across the ice. She slid on her belly as fast as a snake and stopped the stone dead with an outstretched paw. Yowling in triumph, she hurled it back out across the ice. It hurtled past Flametail, shooting toward the middle of the lake. Flametail turned, paws skidding, and raced after it.

He skated past Ratscar and Crowfrost, chasing the stone as it whirled onward. With a rush of satisfaction he saw it slow and slide to a halt. Dropping onto his belly, he slid after it.

Crack!

The world split beneath him.

Terror gripped Flametail’s chest as he felt the ice heave under his paws and tip him into the water. He slid into the freezing depths with a shriek. The water was instantly black around him. It dragged at his fur, so cold it felt like claws.

Above him, the light faded as the water sucked him down.

This is what I was seeing in my dream!

He began to churn with desperate paws, fighting for the surface.

Why didn’t StarClan tell me?

He blinked, focusing on which way the bubbles around him were drifting, then headed upward with a surge of hope. His paws thudded against a solid wall.

No!

He could see light beyond the whiteness, and scrabbled toward it. This time his claws ripped against the jagged underside of the ice. He saw movement above him, shadows over the ice. He heard yowls and mews calling his name as paws thundered above him.

Then the water began to pull him down. He was too tired to fight it. As the noise and chaos faded, Flametail felt numbness spread through his body. He let his paws grow still, allowed the water to cradle him.

Such quiet.

Such calm.

Suddenly the water started to churn. Flecks of ice and bubbles floated around him. He saw silky gray fur wafting near him.

Jayfeather? Had the ThunderClan medicine cat fallen in, too? It’s quiet here. He wanted to reassure his fellow medicine cat that everything was okay. Don’t fight it.

Suddenly claws tugged Flametail’s fur. Jayfeather had grabbed hold of him. He was trying to pull him up. Where did you learn to swim underwater?

Through the darkening depths, Flametail could see Jayfeather’s eyes; though blind, they seemed to be pleading with him. He stared back. It’s hopeless. The ice has blocked us in.

The current was pulling harder now, drawing them down despite Jayfeather’s flailing and struggling.

Then Flametail saw another pair of eyes. Bulging and white. There was a third cat in the water. A grotesque creature. Hairless and scarred. Flametail stared at it as it seemed to float beside them. A tiny part of his mind wondered if this was a StarClan cat he hadn’t met yet. But did any warriors, past or present, ever look like that?

The ugly cat reached toward Jayfeather.

Let him go!

Flametail heard the voice in his head. It wasn’t speaking to him. It was speaking to Jayfeather.

It is his time to die, not yours. Let him go!

Flametail felt Jayfeather’s claws unhook from his pelt. He began to sink, gazing up at the fading light.

Darkness swept over Flametail and the sunlight vanished forever.

Chapter 25

Ivypaw spotted a shrew scampering over the snow. She shot after it, lunging and pinning it by its tail before it realized what was happening. She muttered her thanks to StarClan and bent to give the killing bite.

The shrieking from the lake swelled. Now a shrill edge sharpened the yowls. Ivypaw lifted her head. The prey dangled from her jaws as she strained to hear, and she wished for a moment that she had her sister’s abilities. Then she unwished. It must be a real nuisance to have such power. How did Dovepaw ever manage to sleep?

The screeches from the lake echoed strangely in the frosty air. Ivypaw had wanted to go and play on the ice with Blossomfall and Rosepetal. But she’d promised herself she’d hunt for the Clan until she’d caught enough to make up for the herbs she’d cost her Clanmates. She knew she had to take at least half the blame for getting caught on the ShadowClan border. And it sounded like ThunderClan already owed Dovepaw more than they could ever repay.

She padded to a gnarled oak and began to dig between its roots. Beneath the snow lay a mouse and sparrow. She’d hunted since before sunhigh, and now weariness weighed down her paws. Scooping the two bodies out, she picked them up gently between her teeth and headed back to camp.

By the time she reached the barrier of thorns, the sun had dipped behind the treetops, and shadows enfolded the camp. Her Clanmates milled beneath Highledge, their pelts ruffled.

Jayfeather was padding toward his den. Ivypaw saw with surprise that his pelt was drenched. Leafpool fluttered around him and followed him through the brambles.

Ivypaw dropped her catch on the solitary squirrel and skinny starling that made up the fresh-kill pile. Graystripe came to admire her contribution. “Nice catch.”

“I’ve been hunting all day,” Ivypaw confessed.

Firestar’s mew rang across the clearing. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath Highledge.”

Thornclaw and Dustpelt padded from the warriors’ den. Poppyfrost hurried from the nursery while Daisy shooed the kits back inside the bramble den. Foxleap was already pacing, fur standing on end, at the foot of the rocks. Rosepetal watched him, her eyes round and dark, while Berrynose barged past Toadstep and Icecloud to sit at the front. Brambleclaw settled at the bottom of the rock tumble and stared at his paws, while Squirrelflight sat down a few tail-lengths away.

Ivypaw spotted her sister scurrying from the dirtplace tunnel. She joined her beside Whitewing. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

Whitewing shook her head and sighed.

“I have bad news,” Firestar began. “Flametail was playing on the lake and fell through the ice,” the ThunderClan leader announced.

Poppyfrost gasped. “Is he dead?”

“His body has not been found.” Firestar glanced toward the medicine den. “Jayfeather tried to save him, but Flametail was too heavy.”

Squirrelflight’s pelt bristled. “Is Jayfeather all right?”

Firestar nodded. “He’s cold, but Leafpool is with him. She’ll know what to do.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes darkened. Flametail was his littermate’s son. Ivypaw knew he’d feel the loss most sharply.

“In the future”—Firestar’s mew hardened—“any cat caught on the ice will be severely punished.”

Foxleap’s whiskers twitched. “Yeah,” he whispered. “By death.”

Squirrelflight hushed him with a flick of her tail.

Ivypaw felt her mother’s tail slip around her. “Promise you won’t go on the ice,” Whitewing murmured.

“Of course not,” Dovepaw meowed.

“No way.” Ivypaw shuddered, remembering her terrible panic when Mapleshade held her underwater in the black river.

Firestar leaped down from the Highledge and headed for the medicine den.

“Did any other ShadowClan cats fall in?” Dovepaw called to Foxleap as the young tom headed for the fresh-kill pile.

He shook his head. “Just Flametail.”

Ivypaw shuffled closer to Dovepaw. “Are you all right?”

Her sister’s ears were twitching. “We nearly lost Jayfeather,” she murmured.

“But he’s alive, right?”

Dovepaw nodded. “What if it had been Tigerheart?” Her eyes clouded.

“But it wasn’t.” Ivypaw brushed Dovepaw’s flank with her tail. “I bet you can hear him now.”

Dovepaw lifted her muzzle. Ivypaw could see her ears twitch as she strained to listen. Her sister’s faraway gaze softened. “He’s sitting vigil with the others.” She snapped her attention back to Ivypaw. “It’s like I can hear the emptiness where Flametail was.” Dovepaw pressed closer. “It must be awful to lose a littermate.” She wrapped her tail around Ivypaw. “You don’t have to go to the Dark Forest, you know.”

Ivypaw’s chest tightened. She wasn’t sure that she had any choice. It wasn’t like in the beginning, when her dreams had carried her to the meadow and she’d chosen to follow Hawkfrost into the woods. Now she opened her eyes straight into darkness whether she wanted to or not. But she had promised she would do this.

She wanted to help her Clan.

She wanted to help Dovepaw.

As she settled into her pile of moss, Ivypaw felt her sister bend over her.

“I’ll sleep next to you in your nest if you want,” Dovepaw offered. “Then I can wake you up if you seem to be in trouble.”

Ivypaw shook her head. “I’ve been there loads of times before, remember?” she mewed under her breath. “I’ll be okay.” I hope. She closed her eyes.

It was a long time before sleep overtook her. Dovepaw’s breathing had slowed by the time Ivypaw’s weary limbs relaxed and she slid into darkness. She opened her eyes and tasted the air. For the first time, her paws trembled.

“Hello, Ivypaw.”

She turned, flustered. Tigerstar was standing beside a straight, dark pine as if he’d been waiting for her. Fighting back panic, Ivypaw swallowed hard. She forced her muscles to loosen and met the dark warrior’s curious gaze. “Hi.”

Tigerstar watched her a moment. “Have you seen Tigerheart?”

“He’s sitting vigil for Flametail,” she mewed. “He may not come tonight.”

“Flametail, eh?” Tigerstar shrugged. He clearly knew all about the medicine cat’s death. “That’s one less, I guess.”

You fox-heart!

Tigerstar padded around her, letting his tail sweep her flank. “I’m glad you came.”

“What are we practicing tonight?” Ivypaw prayed the brightness in her mew was convincing.

“We may train later, but first I thought we should all get to know each other a little better.” He padded away between the soaring trunks. Mist puddled around his paws, swirling as he walked. “Are you coming?”

Ivypaw trotted after him. She felt sure her heart was pounding hard enough for anyone to hear. I must keep calm. I’m doing this for Dovepaw and my Clan.

She saw shapes in shadows around her. The dark outlines of warriors. As she followed Tigerstar deeper into the forest, she became aware that cats were everywhere, waiting in the mist, their paws scuffing the earth as they paced.

Were these Clan cats or Dark Forest warriors? She peered through the shadows, trying to recognize pelts. There was Mapleshade, scowling from the darkness. Scarred and ragged warriors circled her, growling and muttering to each other.

“I—I didn’t know there were so many cats here,” she mewed to Tigerstar.

“There are enough to match StarClan,” he answered calmly.

The trees opened into a gloomy clearing. She recognized the boulder they’d trained on almost a moon before. Thistleclaw was sharpening his claws on the smooth rock, admiring their clean tips between each scratch. Hawkfrost nodded a greeting to Ivypaw, while Darkstripe paced behind him. Shredtail and Snowtuft were there too. And, in the boulder’s shadow, unmoving and watchful, sat Brokenstar.

Ivypaw was relieved to see Hollowpaw, Antpelt, and Breezepelt. She’d begun to fear she was the only Clan cat here. Tigerstar glanced back at her. “You may as well sit with your friends,” he murmured. “I’ve an announcement to make.”

They’re not my friends! Yet she hurried toward the familiar faces and felt less nervous as she settled among them.

Tigerstar jumped onto the boulder. “Gather all cats old enough to catch their own prey.” There was a sneer in his voice, and the cats circling the rock purred in mocking amusement.

“The time is close!” Tigerstar growled.

Shapes moved from among the trees. More warriors began to stream from the shadows. Ivypaw’s heart pounded harder, and she huddled closer to Antpelt.

“The day is nearing!” Tigerstar’s growl became a hiss. “We are going to invade the world of the Clans and destroy them and their warrior code, once and for all.”

Ivypaw felt Antpelt tense beside her. Was he shocked? She searched his face, then Hollowpaw’s and Breezepelt’s. Their eyes were shining! It was as if they were truly Dark Forest warriors. Struggling to hide her horror, Ivypaw scanned the clearing. Cats filled every tail-length, yowling in fury.

“We’ll kill them all!”

“The days of the Clans are over.”

Mapleshade reared and slashed at the air. “They’ll be sorry we ever kitted them!”

Ivypaw pricked her ears. When were they going to attack? But Tigerstar only bared his teeth and slid, hissing, from the boulder. He slipped into the throng of cats, and Ivypaw lost sight of him. The air crackled with excitement as the cats paced and wove around each other, bristling.

A pair of eyes glinted at Ivypaw, and she found herself unsheathing her claws as Darkstripe padded toward her.

“Are you ready for the battle of your life?” There was a taunt in his mew.

Ivypaw glanced at the forest, wishing she could disappear into its shadows.

“Or do you want to leave?” Darkstripe seemed to guess what she was thinking.

“N-no, of course not.”

“Good.” He circled her, letting his tail slither over her spine. It felt like a snake, cold and heavy. Ivypaw wished Tigerheart were with her.

“Ivypaw!”

She looked up hopefully, disappointed when she saw Brokenstar heading toward them. The massive, scarred tom dipped his head to her. “Greetings, Ivypaw. I’ve been watching you train.” He shouldered Darkstripe out of the way. “Very impressive.”

Ivypaw met his gaze, keeping Darkstripe at the edge of her vision. Why was Brokenstar singling her out? Was he trying to make Darkstripe jealous?

“I have a special mission for you,” Brokenstar went on.

Ivypaw blinked. “Really?” Maybe it was a kind of assessment.

“Follow me.” Brokenstar headed into the trees.

Ivypaw trotted after him, her breath quickening as the dark tom climbed over a low rise and jumped down into an empty streambed. The gully meandered between twisted trunks and led them under low-slung branches that dripped with dusty gray moss. Ivypaw ducked beneath them, shuddering as the moss left cobwebby smears on her pelt.

She paused. Something was flitting through the brittle ferns on the bank. She peered through the mist, stiffening when she recognized Darkstripe’s pelt.

“Go away, Darkstripe!” Brokenstar’s yowl made Ivypaw jump. She wasn’t the only one to have spotted the shadow.

The scrawny outline froze, then slid from sight.

“He’s no better than a whining kit,” Brokenstar muttered. He flicked his tail toward the nearest tree. “Show me your climbing skills.”

“Okay.” Ivypaw leaped onto the lowest branch and clawed her way up the thick, knotted trunk. When her paws started to ache, she stopped to catch her breath and looked up. There was still no sign of sky. How tall is this tree? Far below, she could see Brokenstar watching from the streambed.

“Not bad!” Brokenstar called. “See if you can get down faster, though.”

Concentrating hard, Ivypaw let herself drop a tail-length at a time, clutching at the bark to control her fall. As the ground grew near, she pushed away from the tree and landed nimbly on a patch of slimy grass at the edge of the gully.

Brokenstar bounded up the bank and joined her. “Now show me an attack lunge.”

Ivypaw crouched down, unsheathed her claws, and focused on a clump of moss a few tail-lengths ahead. She sprang and hit the moss squarely, then flipped over, lashing out with her hind legs before jumping back onto all fours.

“You’re fast.” Brokenstar faced her. “How are your defensive moves?” The words still hung in the air as he pounced.

Just in time, Ivypaw saw his claws flash and ducked. With a jerk of her spine, she rolled out of his way. She guessed he’d anticipate her and shot forward as soon as her paws hit the ground.

She was right. Brokenstar’s claws pierced the spot where she’d been a half moment earlier. She spun around and confronted him, hackles up, teeth bared, prepared for another attack.

Brokenstar sat down. “Nice.”

Ivypaw’s heart was thudding so loud she was convinced Brokenstar would be able to hear it. Where was her mission? Was he just testing her skills?

“I have one final task for you before you can fight alongside your new Clanmates.”

Ivypaw pricked her ears. This was an assessment! “What is it?”

Something moved in the shadows at the edge of the clearing.

Darkstripe?

“Come out!” Brokenstar called.

Ivypaw gripped the earth as an orange-colored cat padded out of the ferns.

“Flametail?”

The ShadowClan medicine cat’s eyes were stretched wide. “Did you fall through the ice, too?”

Ivypaw shook her head. “I—I . . .” Words choked in her throat. How could she explain why she was here? “H-how did you get here?”

“I was in StarClan.” He squinted, puzzled, up through the branches. “I heard a noise in the bushes and followed it. It kept moving ahead of me, whispering my name, so I followed it until I got here. But . . . but this doesn’t feel like StarClan anymore.” He shifted his paws. “Do you know the way back?”

Ivypaw stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“Kill him.” Brokenstar’s order cut through the silence.

A bolt of panic shot through Ivypaw. “What?”

He can’t mean it!

Then she understood. It was a trap—one that she wasn’t going to fall into like a dandelion-brained rabbit. “I can’t.” She looked triumphantly at Brokenstar. “He’s already dead.” He’s not catching me out with stupid questions.

Brokenstar’s whiskers quivered. “So young, so innocent,” he growled. “No cat stays in StarClan forever. They all fade in the end.” His gaze ran over Flametail as if the medicine cat were a juicy piece of prey. “Unless someone kills them first.”

Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. “That’s not true! This is where cats come for the rest of all the moons!”

“Oh, it’s true,” Brokenstar assured her. “It’s also unimaginably painful to give up the last dying echo of one’s life.”

Ivypaw started to back away. “I’m not killing him.”

Brokenstar’s muzzle was suddenly a whisker from hers. His hot, rancid breath stung her eyes. “Why?” he hissed. “Are you a Dark Forest warrior or not?”

Ivypaw blinked. “I—I . . .”

Brokenstar’s gaze scorched her. “I don’t know why Hawkfrost chose you,” he snarled. “I think your loyalties will always be with your Clanmates beside the lake.” He stepped closer. “Which makes you dangerous.”

“I thought you wanted dangerous cats,” Ivypaw spat back. If she could defend herself convincingly, surely Brokenstar would let Flametail go?

Brokenstar’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what your sister is.”

“So?”

“You’re her littermate.”

“If you know so much,” Ivypaw hissed, “then you must know that I’m not part of the prophecy.”

“But you share her blood. Would you really betray that? Or should I kill her instead, to be sure that your loyalties are not divided?”

Leave Dovepaw out of it! Without Dovepaw, the Clans would be lost. Ivypaw lifted her chin. She was ready to die.

And yet . . .

If she died here, who would warn the Clans? She’d heard Tigerstar say that the battle was near. She had to go back. Which meant she had to persuade Brokenstar to let her live. There was only one thing to do.

“I’m loyal to the Dark Forest.” She rounded on Flametail and crouched down, lashing her tail. I’m sorry, Flametail, but I have to do this for the sake of our Clans! She unsheathed her claws. Forgive me, StarClan!

As she sprang, there was a blur of dark brown fur, and something hard slammed into her. The force knocked her sprawling across the clearing. Blinking, she staggered to her paws.

Tigerheart!

“What are you doing?” he screeched, standing in front of Flametail. Horror and bewilderment flared in his eyes. “I won’t let you destroy what’s left of my brother!”

Tigerstar stalked from the shadows. “Oh, very brave. I see my blood flowing in yours.”

I’m sorry! Ivypaw tried to catch Tigerheart’s eye. But the young warrior’s gaze was darting between Tigerstar and Brokenstar. Spitting, he pressed against Flametail. “Leave him alone.”

“Brokenstar.” Tigerstar’s mew was soothing. “There’s no need to kill Flametail. He’s no threat. He can only mix herbs.”

Brokenstar swung his head around. “He means nothing to me, alive or dead. But what about her?” He flicked his tail toward Ivypaw.

Ivypaw hung her head, trying to catch her breath. Had she done enough to convince the Dark Forest cats that she was loyal to them, and not the Clans by the lake? She didn’t dare think about what Tigerheart would do to her when they got back to the lake.

“We need all the warriors we can get,” Tigerstar answered smoothly. Ivypaw jerked her head up.

“I believe that Ivypaw is loyal to the Place of No Stars. When the final battle comes, she will stand with us.”

KEEP WATCH FOR

The dark forces that have driven a rift between the four warrior Clans are growing stronger. While Lionblaze remains focused on protecting ThunderClan from another deadly battle, Jayfeather receives a desperate plea for help from the Tribe of Rushing Water and must travel to the mountains in search of answers. But with the summons comes an ominous warning that suggests the power of the stars may not be enough to save the Clans. . . .

Uninvited Guests

Whichever previous adventure you played, consider that two moons have passed since then. Determine what age that makes all the cat characters (including the cat belonging to the person who will take the first turn as Narrator) and use the information found in the “Improving Your Cat” section of Chapter Four in the game rules to make the necessary changes.

Unless you are the first Narrator in this adventure, stop reading here. The information beginning in the next paragraph is for the Narrator only.

The Adventure Begins

Hello, Narrator! It’s time to begin playing “Uninvited Guests.” Make sure all the players have their character sheets, the correct number of chips, a piece of paper, and a pencil. Remember that the point of the game is to have fun. Don’t be afraid to go slow, and refer to the rules if you aren’t sure exactly what should happen next.

When you’re ready, begin with 1 below.

1. Fox Hunt

Special Note: “Uninvited Guests” begins with the cats already in the middle of the action, hunting for a fox, but the players will not immediately know how their cats got there or why they’re chasing the fox. The scene is set up so that you can have a flashback that gives the players that information. This can be a little tricky at first, and your players may be anxious about it, but by the time the scene is finished everything should be fine. If you are particularly nervous about this style of storytelling, simply use the material below to improvise an opening scene that begins in the Clan camp.

Read Aloud: “Your target is fast and clever, running through the woods at top speed, making sudden turns, and diving into deep brush. Following the trail is difficult, but that’s your mission. The question is: Are you up to the job?”

Narrator Tips: Have all the players make Smell Checks (the Track Knack will be useful here, if any of the cats have it). The players may want to know what’s happening, but tell them that everything will be explained after they make the Smell Check. If a cat’s result on the Check is 5 or lower, that cat smells nothing. If the Check is between 6 and 10, the cat can smell the distinct scent of a fox, but it seems to be coming from several different places at once. Any cats who have totals of 11 or higher on the Check can pick up a clear scent leading away from the Lake.

Now explain to the players that their cats are on an important mission to track down a fox that has been stalking the Clan territories for a couple of days. Once they find the fox, they are supposed to chase it out of the area permanently. The Clans are all working together on this mission and every able-bodied warrior who isn’t needed to protect the queens and kits is out doing the same thing the players’ cats are.

Let the players act out the scene where they received their orders from a Clan leader (their leader, if they are all from the same Clan, or whatever leader you, as the Narrator, prefer if the cats in the group come from different Clans). This is a flashback scene, but it is also a chance for the players to ask questions and gather background information.

There isn’t a lot that the leader can tell them. The fox’s scent was first discovered a couple of days ago, but it seemed to be staying on the edges of the Clans’ territories, avoiding the places that warriors and other Clan members went most frequently. Then, about a day or so ago the fox was scented and even seen near all the Clan camps—particularly close to each Clan’s nursery. The Clan leaders thought the fox might be trying to steal kits, so they called for this massive hunt.

When the players are finished asking questions, the flashback is over and it’s time to go back to the fox hunt. Tell the players that their cats started searching at dawn, finding nothing but stale scents of cats, mice, voles, and other creatures. But then they came across a reasonably fresh trail, and that’s what they’re following now. The scent is getting fresher, and the fox seems to be trying lots of tricks to throw off anyone that tries to follow her. That means there’s a good chance she knows the cats are after her—she might even be nearby.

What Happens Next: The next phase of the adventure depends on the Smell Checks the players made at the very beginning of the scene.

If none of the cats’ Check totals was higher than 5, continue with 17.

If the best of the cats’ Check totals was between 6 and 10, continue with 6.

If some, but not all, of the cats’ Check totals were 11 or higher, continue with 4.

If all of the cats’ Check totals were 11 or higher, continue with 5.

2. Wrong Scent

Read Aloud: “The scent grows stronger as you come to a small meadow—where the trail ends. This is the spot.”

Narrator Tips: Let the cats look around briefly, perhaps making See Checks to try to spot the fox. After a few moments it will become clear to them that there is nowhere in this meadow for a fox to hide. However, there are a few rabbits here, munching contentedly on the grass. As yet, they have not noticed the cats’ presence.

What’s happened is that the clever fox ran along a path used regularly by the rabbits, hoping that the appetizing smell of a potential meal would distract the cats from noticing that the fox scent is not particularly fresh. Unfortunately, the cats seem to have taken the bait and fallen off the fox’s current trail. Now they are in a meadow full of rabbits, and they’re starting to feel a little hungry.

Although the cats know that their duty is to rush back onto the fox’s trail, their stomachs are beginning to grumble. Would anyone notice if they took a very brief break to catch a quick meal?

As the Narrator, your job here is a little complicated. You should make the players aware that their cats are tempted to take a break and hunt the rabbits, but also that they all know the proper thing to do is to get back to the fox hunt. It is up to the players to decide what the cats actually do.

What Happens Next: If the cats want to stay here and try to catch a quick meal, continue with 7.

If the cats want to get back on the fox’s trail, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 3.

3. An Important Message

Read Aloud: “Suddenly, you realize why the trail has been so difficult to follow. Not only did the same fox run over these paths multiple times, there is also the scent of a second fox along the trail! Between the pair of fox scents and the scent you cats are leaving on the trail, it’s a big mess. But now you’ve got the scents straight!”

Narrator Tips: The insight the cats have made is going to make tracking down the fox much easier. However, things are about to get more complicated for the cats. After the players have finished processing this new information, tell them that their cats hear another warrior calling out their names.

A moment later, Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, comes bounding up to the group. She has important news—two kits are missing.

A pair of WindClan kits—a brother and sister—have gone missing. They were last seen in the WindClan camp very early this morning. They’re a rambunctious pair who often find trouble in unlikely places. This time, though, it seems like trouble found them. When the queens went to the far corner of the WindClan camp, where the two usually go to hide, there was a hole in the camp’s thorny wall and the kits were gone. What’s worse, on the outside of the wall, they found fox scent everywhere. The Clans are now worried that there may be a pack of foxes moving into the territory.

Depending on how well the players’ cats did on the earlier Smell Checks, the cats may already have some information about this. They may know that the fox has three cubs, and they may know that there is a WindClan kit out there somewhere. Let them share their knowledge with Ashfoot and talk about the best way to proceed.

When the discussions have ended, Ashfoot will tell the players’ cats that they are doing well. She will go off to deliver her message to the groups of cats who are searching elsewhere. If the players’ cats have given her any information, she will bring it back to the Clan leaders.

The cats now have a clear choice, based on the scents they’ve identified: They can either follow the adult fox or follow the new fox. (If they know about the fox cubs, or previously identified the scent of the WindClan kit, that will also help inform their decision.)

What Happens Next: If the cats follow the scent of the original fox they’ve been stalking, continue with 12.

If the cats follow the new scent (of the fox cub), continue with 14.

4. Mixed Scents

Read Aloud: “This is definitely the right scent trail! You’re clearly getting closer to the fox. But wait . . . there’s more than one scent in this trail!”

Narrator Tips: It becomes clear to the cats that there’s more going on here than just a single fox running around in the Clan territories. The scent trail indicates that there are several foxes, but one scent is clearly dominant over the others. And there’s another scent mixed in there but the cats can’t immediately tell what it is.

Have each cat make either a Ponder or Smell Check (player’s choice). These Checks may be boosted by the Animal Lore or Track Knacks, if the players like. Rather than working alone, a cat may decide to help one of the other cats with his or her Skill Check. To do this, the helping cat makes a Focus Check. The cat being helped then gets a bonus to his or her Check equal to half the total of the Focus Check. In this way, the cats can work together to get the best possible result.

If the highest Check total (including help) is 10 or higher, the cats figure out that there are five scents mixed into the scent trail. If the total is 14 or higher, they realize that four of the scents are fox cubs and the strongest scent is the mother fox. If the total is 17 or higher, they realize that there really are only three fox cubs—the fourth scent is a kit from WindClan.

What Happens Next: If the best of the cats’ Check totals was 9 or lower, continue with 6.

If the best of the cats’ Check totals was 13 or lower, continue with 2.

If the best of the cats’ Check totals was 14 or higher, continue with 5.

5. There She Is!

Read Aloud: “The scent trail is absolutely plain now—the overlapping tracks are easy to sniff through to find the freshest, most recent path. It is clear that the fox came this way only a short while ago. You’ve nearly got her!”

Narrator Tips: Improvise a final dash through the underbrush or over an obstacle, something that gives the players a sense of completion for their chase. At the end of that action, they find themselves on one side of a glade while the fox sits at the other side. It feels almost as if she has been waiting for the cats to arrive—and that in itself is more than a little suspicious.

Allow the cats to make Ponder Checks (or other Skill Checks that may seem appropriate) to figure out what’s going on. Any cat that has the Animal Lore may use it without having to spend the Intelligence chip that is usually required to access a Knack. If the Check total is 8 or lower, the cat is sure that the fox is just toying with the group—making it seem as if she’s running away, then doubling back to a section of the woods they’ve already searched. If a cat’s Check total is 11 or lower, he or she notices that despite the fox’s apparent relaxed posture, she seems poised to flee—and she’s already leaning in the direction she will run. If the Check total is 12 or higher, the cat notices that while the fox is leaning and getting ready to run in one direction, she is glancing back in the opposite direction—almost as if she wants to go that way but is afraid to lead the cats there. If the Check total is 17 or higher, the cat realizes that the fox’s backward glance is just another attempt to confuse the cats—perhaps it’s a ploy to help her escape, or perhaps there really is something over there that she wants the cats to see. The fox is being so sly that it’s almost impossible to tell what her real intentions are.

The big question is: What will the cats do with all this information? Because no sooner do they get it than the fox dashes away in the direction she was leaning.

Of course, the cats may not want to even think about such things. If they just want to charge ahead and chase after the fox, by all means allow them to do so.

What Happens Next: If the cats think the fox is going to double back to a place they’ve already searched and want to beat her to the location, continue with 6.

If the cats want to follow the fox in the direction she is running or investigate the section of woods she was staring at, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 3. Tell the new Narrator to make note of which direction the cats were heading.

6. Running In Circles

Read Aloud: “Over the rotten log, through a bush, around that tree, back through the bush, back over the log . . . wait a minute! You’ve lost the trail.”

Narrator Tips: The fox is very sly. She knows that there are many cats in the area, so wherever she went she carefully used as few paths through the woods as possible. The result is that her new scent trails are difficult to separate from her older ones, and that makes it hard to follow her. The cats have gotten caught in a loop, following the scent around in a circle that leads them back where they started, but at least they figured out the problem quickly. They still have time to get back on the right track.

Have each of the cats make another Smell Check, making sure they understand that they must find a way to do better than before—spending chips or using Knacks—otherwise they will not be able to find the fox.

What Happens Next: If none of the cats’ Check totals was higher than 5, continue with 17.

If the best of the cats’ Check totals was between 6 and 10, continue with 2.

If some, but not all, of the cats’ Check totals were 11 or higher, continue with 4.

If all of the cats’ Check totals were 11 or higher, continue with 5.

7. Stalking

Read Aloud: “So far, the wind is in your favor, and none of the rabbits are aware of your presence. There are three or four small and lean rabbits near you, and a much meatier one on the far side of the meadow.”

Narrator Tips: The players need to decide which rabbit (or rabbits) they want to try to catch. They can easily leap onto one of the small ones nearby, but it won’t make much of a meal. The larger rabbit is farther away and would have to be stalked, which would be difficult. In either case, going after one rabbit will certainly scare away all the others.

If the cats want to catch one of the small rabbits, they have to Pounce on it. The rabbit’s Jump score is 5, and it can be taken down by just 1 chip’s worth of damage. There are three small rabbits nearby, but the cats must time their Pounces so they happen at the same time. Otherwise, when the first cat Pounces, the remaining rabbits will flee.

If the cats want to catch the larger rabbit, they must first stalk it. What’s more, they must do so without any of the rabbits in the field becoming aware of their presence. To do this, all the cats who are participating in the hunt must make Sneak Checks. The only result you, as Narrator, are concerned with, though, is the lowest total in the bunch—if one cat is clumsy, it will ruin the hunt for everyone.

If the lowest Sneak Check total is 7 or lower, the large rabbit senses the cats’ approach and flees before they can Pounce.

If the lowest total is between 8 and 12, the large rabbit is unaware of the cats, but the smaller rabbits catch wind of them and flee. This warns the larger rabbit, who starts to flee before most of the cats are in position, but the group may select one of the cats to try to Pounce on it before it escapes.

If the lowest total is 13 or higher, all the cats get in position around the larger rabbit, and they can Pounce on it together.

The large rabbit has a Jump score of 8. In order to take it down, the cats must do 3 chips worth of damage to it; otherwise, it will escape before the cats can Pounce again.

If the cats succeed in catching a rabbit, they get to have a quick meal before going back on the fox’s trail. If the cats caught the large rabbit, they can Refresh all of their spent chips. If they caught one or more of the smaller rabbits, each cat can Refresh one chip (and only one) from those that have been spent so far.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide that this was a bad idea after all and want to get back on the fox’s trail, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 3.

If they tried to catch a rabbit, whether or not they were successful, continue with 9.

8. Fox Fight

Read Aloud: “The fox looks at you, her eyes cold and vicious. If you want to fight, she is more than ready to oblige.”

Narrator Tips: This scene focuses entirely on the fight between the players’ cats and the fox. It uses the rules for fighting found in Chapter Five of the game rules.

Once the cats make it clear that they are going to attack, the fox will stand up and leave its den, nudging the cubs so that they stay put and glaring at the kit so that she does, too. But now the kit is free to call out to the cats. She asks them not to fight but to listen to what she has to say.

If the fight begins, it follows all the usual rules for fighting. The fox has a Jump score of 10, a Pounce score of 7, a Swat score of 10, and a Bite score of 8. The fox has Ability chips just like the players’ cats do, and spends them in the same way. She has 5 Strength chips, 8 Intelligence chips, and 7 Spirit chips. For the purposes of this fight, the fox is treated just the same as a player’s cat except that the Narrator controls all its movements.

The fox will fight until she is knocked out because she is fighting to protect her cubs. However, if the cats want to stop the fight at any time, she will also stop. Fighting is not what she wants to do, but if forced to she will fight to the best of her ability.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to delay the fight and listen to what the kit has to say, continue with 16.

If two or more of the cats are knocked out during the fight, continue with 13.

If the cats win the fight and they’ve already found and rescued the missing fox cub and WindClan kit, continue with 22.

If the cats win the fight but they haven’t yet found the missing fox cub and WindClan kit, continue with 16.

9. Picking Up The Scent

Read Aloud: “The fox’s scent is still around, but the trail is far from fresh. It has clearly been back and forth over this ground many times in the past few days, and finding the newest trail is even more difficult than before.”

Narrator Tips: Taking a break to hunt has made the cats’ work even harder. They are going to have to work together to find the right trail. Ask the players if they can think of anything the cats can do to improve their chances of finding the right scent. This is an opportunity for the players to get creative. If any of the ideas sound like they really would be helpful, give each player’s cat a +1 bonus on the Check below.

Have each of the cats make a Smell Check (allowing the use of any Knacks that seem appropriate). Then have them add their Skill Check totals together to get a group total.

What Happens Next: If the group total is 20 or lower, continue with 17.

If the group total is 21 or higher, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 3.

10. Up a Tree

Read Aloud: “The scent is getting stronger. The missing cub and kit must be close, but their scents are not on the ground. They’re drifting through the air. That’s very strange, but surely it will all make sense once you find—wait . . . what’s that new scent?”

Narrator Tips: The scent trail leads up to a copse of trees. The players’ cats can smell the WindClan kit and fox cub’s scents on the wind but not on the ground. This is very unusual—it’s generally the way an owl’s scent or a sparrow’s scent comes through. The players may want to puzzle over that, but they have a more pressing issue—there’s a new scent, too. This one is on the ground and coming from very nearby.

Have each of the cats make a Ponder Check (the Animal Lore Knack will be helpful) to see if they recognize the scent. Anyone who gets a Skill Check total of 7 or higher realizes that the new scent is a raccoon.

If the cats follow either scent trail, they enter into the copse of trees and find a strange sight. The kit and fox cub are in one of the trees, clinging to a narrow, low-hanging branch. Below them, a round-bellied raccoon is hissing and barking and swiping the air with its claws, furiously trying to get to them.

The kit sees the players’ cats and calls out, telling them what happened.

He and the cub were just running around, having fun, when they accidentally tumbled into a raccoon. This made the raccoon angry, and it chased after them. At first this seemed fun, too. The raccoon was heavy and slow, and the kit and cub were small and fast—they expected it would give up the chase soon enough. But it didn’t. It kept coming, and it kept getting closer as the kit and cub grew tired. Soon it was almost on top of them, and they noticed just how sharp its teeth and claws were. In order to get away, he and the cub climbed this tree. This turned out not to be a great plan because the raccoon just climbed after them, so they went out on a branch that seemed too thin to bear the raccoon’s weight. The plan worked—the raccoon couldn’t come out on the branch after them—but they still underestimated its anger. Rather than going away, the raccoon simply climbed back down to the ground and has been there ever since.

The kit and cub both look terrified, exhausted, and desperate for the players’ cats to do something to help. The question is: What will the group do?

What Happens Next: If the players’ cats want to attack the raccoon, continue with 15.

If the players’ cats want to try something other than fighting, continue with 11.

11. A Test of Wills

Read Aloud: “The raccoon hisses and growls at you. Even after all this time, it’s still seething with anger at the kit and cub, but it’s aware of your presence and seems to realize that you have it outnumbered.”

Narrator Tips: The raccoon has no intention of leaving, so it is up to the players’ cats to convince it otherwise. How they try to do that is up to them and, in great measure, the results depend on you, the Narrator. The players’ cats can try any tactic they can imagine—using the Hiss or Arch Skills, charging at the raccoon as if they plan to attack and then backing away, finding some fresh-kill to offer in order to distract it, etc. It is up to you to decide how to use the game to resolve their actions.

The raccoon has a Strength score of 10, an Intelligence of 4, and a Spirit of 6, and it has Ability chips to spend just the way the players’ cats do. It doesn’t have as many advantages as the cats, but it does have a few Skills and Knacks. The raccoon has 4 levels of Hiss, 3 levels of See, and 2 levels of Smell. It also has the Leap Knack.

As an example, if the cats decide to try to scare the raccoon away by making noise, you’ll probably want to have them make Hiss Checks. You may want to set a target number for a cat to try to beat on a single Skill Check, or set a higher number and have all the cats generate a group total, or let the raccoon make its own Hiss Check. Do whatever you think best fits the situation.

As the Narrator, your best guess is automatically right.

This scene continues until the cats succeed in chasing the raccoon away or they decide to switch tactics and fight it.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide that this isn’t working and that it would be better to fight the raccoon, continue with 15.

If the cats succeed in scaring away the raccoon, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 20.

12. Home and Family

Read Aloud: “The scent trail is finally clear. Before long, you come to a small clearing with a fallen log at the far end. Sitting in the hollow of the log is the fox. She glares at you, then looks down between her paws where you see she has one of the WindClan kits pinned. The kit is struggling to call out to you, but its words are muffled by fox fur.”

Narrator Tips: Allow the players to ask any questions they want about the situation—don’t rush them into making a decision about what to do next. Exactly what they find out will depend on what they ask, but below is a detailed summary so that you know how to answer clearly.

The fox, noticing how close the players’ cats were to catching her, headed back to her den in the hollow of the log. When she went searching for her missing cub, she left the other two cubs and one of the WindClan kits, the she-cat, here sleeping. Knowing that the cats would arrive momentarily, she put the kit up front under her paw—a warning that she will hurt it if the cats come too close. Really, she has no plan to hurt the kit at all. She simply wants to get her missing cub back, and she blames the Clan cats for the fact that it is missing at all. (The kit can explain this reasoning, if the cats can get the fox to let her up so she can speak.) The other two fox cubs are now awake but hiding behind her, deeper in the den.

The fox is a clever animal, capable of communicating basic feelings by emotions—angry looks and sad whines—and pointing. She is not able to speak to the cats or make complex plans. The fox wants the cats to know that she is holding the kit until such time as her missing cub returns. She’s also hinting that if she finds out that the cats hurt her cub, she will retaliate by hurting the kit. This may be too complicated a message to get across without words, but it’s what the fox is thinking.

At first, it may seem that the fox is intentionally keeping the kit silent by covering its mouth with her paw. In fact, she is just trying to keep the kit from wriggling away and running back home. Unfortunately, at the moment, she is preventing the kit from calling out to the cats, which would help to clear up the situation.

What happens next depends entirely on how the players’ cats react to this situation. The fox is not going to make the first move.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to attack the fox, continue with 8.

If the cats decide to leave and follow the other scent trail, continue with 14.

If the cats do anything that involves staying near the fox’s den but not starting a fight, continue with 16.

13. Knocked Out!

Read Aloud: “When your eyes flutter open, you can see the friendly face of your Clan’s medicine cat peering down at you.”

Narrator Tips: A significant portion (or perhaps all) of the cats have been knocked out in a fight. While it might have been possible for the other cats to finish the adventure alone, they succeed or fail as a team.

Improvise an appropriate conclusion for the cats based on their actions. As long as they acted nobly and fought courageously, their Clan leader will be proud of them and say so. There is no shame in failing as long as you try your best. If they acted rashly or, worse, failed to uphold the warrior code, the leader will give them a more stern talking-to.

Some other warriors succeeded in finishing the mission and finding the kits. As Narrator, you can decide how that happened and tell the players that tale.

What Happens Next: The adventure is over. The players’ cats do not get any Experience rewards for this adventure. The group can, however, play the adventure again, hopefully either being more careful about when to pick a fight or merely being better fighters.

14. The Other Trail

Read Aloud: “Knowing that there is a second scent on the trail makes everything clear. In fact, you’re certain that this scent belongs to a fox cub, and the fox you’ve been chasing is its mother. But the cub hasn’t been moving around nearly as frequently, so the trail is difficult to follow because it is hidden under the mother fox’s scent.”

Narrator Tips: The cats are hot on the trail of the second fox. This scene will require the cats to make one final Smell Check as a group. It also provides a chance to be sure that they have put together all the various snippets of information about the cub into an accurate understanding of the situation. As Narrator, you may ask the players to have their cats make Ponder Checks to see which ones understand things most clearly, but whatever the results are, the group as a whole should get all the following information.

The two main scent trails are the cub running around and exploring the woods and the mother fox looking for him. Sometime early today, the cub’s scent was joined by the scent of a WindClan kit, and the two youngsters seem to be exploring and playing together. But then suddenly their scents stopped—they were no longer moving around—and their trail was buried under the scent of the mother fox as her search became more frantic.

In order to figure out the last place the cub and kit went, have each player make a Smell Check for his or her cat, and then add the Check totals together to get a group total.

What Happens Next: If the group total is 13 or lower, continue with 17.

If the group total is 14 or higher, this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 10.

15. Raccoon Ruckus

Read Aloud: “After the better part of a day, the raccoon is still snapping at the kit and cub. Clearly it’s ready for a fight.”

Narrator Tips: This scene focuses entirely on the fight between the players’ cats and the raccoon. It uses the rules for fighting found in Chapter Five of the game rules.

From where it stands, the raccoon will hiss at the players’ cats, but it remains focused on the kit and cub perched on the branch above. The cats will need to force it away.

If the players’ cats decide to fight the raccoon, the fight will follow all the usual rules for fighting. The raccoon has a Jump score of 7, a Pounce score of 10, a Swat score of 12, and a Bite score of 10. The raccoon has Ability chips just like the players’ cats do and spends them in the same way. It has 10 Strength chips, 4 Intelligence chips, and 6 Spirit chips. For the purposes of this fight, the raccoon is treated just the same as a player’s cat except that the Narrator controls all its movements.

The raccoon will fight until it only has 7 chips remaining, and then it will try to run away. If this happens and the cats decide to chase the raccoon, they can easily catch up with it and continue the fight. However, if they let it go, the raccoon will leave Clan territory entirely and never be heard from again.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to delay the fight and instead try to scare the raccoon away, continue with 11.

If two or more of the cats are knocked out during the fight, continue with 13.

If the cats knock out or chase off the raccoon, they win the fight and this is the end of the chapter. Hand the adventure to the next Narrator and tell him or her to continue with 20.

16. The Truth of the Matter

Read Aloud: “With a tiny grunt of exertion, the kit lifts up her head and calls out, ‘Wait! I can explain everything!’”

Narrator Tips: The kit gets her head free from the fox’s paw and attempts to explain what happened. The details are below. Use them to improvise a scene where she is trying to make things clear quickly in order to prevent a fight, but also is struggling with the fact that she is just a frightened kit and doesn’t really understand all the details of what’s going on.

The brother and sister had snuck away from the queens and the other kits, as they often did, and were poking around in one of the furthest corners of the WindClan camp. They smelled a strange scent and heard something scratching on the other side of the camp’s wall. It didn’t smell dangerous, and the scratching sounded like it was coming from something no bigger than they were.

Their curiosity got the better of them, and they started scratching on their side of the wall, curious to see what was out there. Soon they’d poked a hole through the wall, and on the other side they saw a fox cub. They started sniffing and pawing at one another. Before long, they were rolling around and play fighting, just like old friends. This quickly turned into a running and tumbling game of tag and soon they were far away.

They spent some time running and playing together—this was the first time the kits had been out of the camp. After a while, though, she got separated from her brother and the fox cub. She thought she saw the fox cub’s tail, so she pounced on it, but it wasn’t the cub—it was his mother!

The mother fox was frantic, searching for her cub. The kit could tell because her face had the same look the queens got whenever one of the kits went missing. Then there was the sound of other cats in the area—Clan warriors who were out looking for the fox—so she grabbed the kit by the scruff and carried her off to this den.

“She’s been very kind to me but won’t let me leave,” the kit tells them. “I think she’s waiting until her missing cub comes home. But I have no idea where the cub or my brother is, and I just want to go home!”

The kit begs the players’ cats not to hurt the fox. She bets that if they find and return the cub, the fox will probably take her whole litter and get out of Clan territory as fast as they can.

What Happens Next: If the cats decide to go look for the missing kit and fox cub, continue with 14.

If the cats decide they want to fight the fox first, continue with 8.

17. Outfoxed

Read Aloud: “The scent trail heads up the hill, away from the Lake. As it leads you deeper into the woods, the other trails fade away until only this one remains. But then you realize that this scent trail is older than all the others. You’ve accidentally followed the path the fox first used when she entered the Clan territories.”

Narrator Tips: There are several scenes that can lead to this bad ending, so you will have to improvise the specific details of this scene. All of the possible lead-ins, though, are similar in that after following tracks around in circles for the better part of the day, the cats ended up focusing on the wrong one. They’ve now gone far enough away that it will take the rest of the day to get home, and by the time they do, other warriors will have resolved the situation.

What Happens Next: Not every adventure can end in success, and this one hasn’t. Although they tried hard, the cats failed to solve the problems being caused by the fox in Clan territories. They do not get any Experience rewards for this adventure. The group can, however, play the adventure again, hopefully finding a way to get a better result next time.

18. Making the Trade

Read Aloud: “As you enter the small clearing, you can see the fox perched in her den within a hollow log. She’s looking right at you, as though she has been expecting you.”

Narrator Tips: The fox has the she-cat kit beneath her paws, but luckily the kit is free to call out to you. She says that she is all right, and she is happy to see her brother. Although she struggles to get free and come over to you, the fox maintains her hold.

The fox cub will immediately run to its mother unless the players’ cats stop it, which they can do easily. It will whine and keep trying to go, but there is nothing it can do to overpower the cats.

The fox will not let the kit go until the players’ cats let her cub come back to her. She does not like or trust the cats, and so will not release the kit until it is absolutely clear that they are not trying to trick her. The cats may want to talk to her or try to negotiate a situation where both the cub and kit are released at the same time. However, while the fox is clever, she at best only understands the very basics of what the cats are saying.

This might be a tricky scene for you, as Narrator, to improvise, but try to make the fox’s meaning and intention as plain as possible without actually putting words in her mouth. It is up to the players to figure out how to solve this situation, but if they are having too difficult a time of it, allow their cats to make Ponder Checks (using the Animal Lore Knack, if they wish). If the Skill Check total is higher than 8 (the fox’s Intelligence score), they understand the situation and know what the fox is demanding.

If the cats are not willing to release the cub, nothing will change. The only other option is to start a fight with the fox, though it’s doubtful anyone really wants that to happen.

Once the cub is free and very close to the hollow log, the fox will let the she-cat kit go and move to nuzzle her pup. At that point, the kit will run directly over to her brother.

What Happens Next: If the cub and kit are both back with their families, continue with 19.

If the cats won’t let the cub go, choosing instead to start a fight, continue with 8.

19. The Stare Down

Read Aloud: “The kit dashes across to her brother and they roll about with wild enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the fox nudges her cub into the den with its siblings, then steps out and glares at you angrily.”

Narrator Tips: The fox has gotten just what she wanted, but she’s still not very happy about the situation. The cats know where her den and, more important, her cubs are. Now she will have to take her cubs and go find a new den, preferably far away from the Clan territories. The angry glare is her way of saying “Leave my family alone . . . or else!”

As with the previous scene, there really isn’t any way to have direct communication between the fox and the players’ cats. Through an improvised scene and a few well-placed Ponder Checks, though, you should be able to get the players to understand what’s going on.

The big question is how the players’ cats will respond to such an aggressive stance. The fox doesn’t want to fight; she just wants the cats to know that she will if it’s necessary. If the cats are feeling aggressive, though, that might be enough to get combat started. If they simply acknowledge the fox’s anger and concern, though, she will gladly let the tension ease.

What Happens Next: If the cats accept the fox’s message without escalating to violence, continue with 21.

If the cats decide to take the tension up to the next level and start a fight, continue with 8.

20. Climbing Down

Read Aloud: “The kit is so relieved that the situation with the raccoon is over that he almost leaps off the branch. It’s then that he realizes just how high up he and the cub are. ‘H-how do we get down from here?’ the kit asks.”

Narrator Tips: This scene is all about getting the tom kit and the fox cub out of the tree. They’re both much better at climbing up than they are at coming down. Plus, after such a prolonged and frightening experience, they’re both more than a little tired.

It is up to the players’ cats to figure out how to get the two out of the tree, and it is your job, as the Narrator, to use the game rules and your imagination to improvise a scene that lets the group find a workable solution. If the idea they have seems impractical or unlikely to work, tell them so—or hint at it strongly. If possible, think of an Ability or Skill Check that goes along with the actions they suggest, and an unpleasant result that will happen if they fail at those Checks.

Don’t make it anything too harmful—just inconvenient. After all, they beat the raccoon. This is merely a small inconvenience when compared to the sharp claws and teeth they just avoided. But a few added bruises or embarrassments can certainly be gained if the cats use bad judgment.

In the end, if necessary, help the group find a way to succeed in getting the kit and the cub out of the tree. This scene should be a memorable diversion, not one where the adventure grounds to a halt.

If the cats have already interacted with the mother fox near her den, they will know just where to go next. If not, have the cub dash off, following its own sense of smell and memory of where the den is, and have the group follow.

What Happens Next: If the players’ cats have fought and knocked out the mother fox, continue with 22.

If the mother fox is still in her den waiting for the return of her missing cub, continue with 18.

21. Farewell Fox

Read Aloud: “The fox seems satisfied that the cats mean her family no harm—at least for the moment. She walks over to the hollow log and climbs in with her cubs. They nuzzle and rub against one another so happily, you almost expect them to purr.”

Narrator Tips: The fox and her cubs are reunited. So are the WindClan kits, who the players’ cats now have to guide back to the Clan’s camp. The brother and sister spend the whole trip apologizing for the trouble they’ve caused and promising they’ll never do it again.

The leaders of all the Clans will be pleased with what a good job the cats did, and everyone will be fascinated with the tale of the fox and her cubs. The cats who know the most about Animal Lore will say that the Clan warriors should probably stay away from the fox’s den for a few days, just so she feels safe. As soon as she doesn’t feel threatened anymore, chances are good that the mother fox will take her cubs and find a new den—they like to keep the location of their homes secret, especially from potential enemies. In fact, it’s most likely that the fox will take her cubs and leave the Clan territories entirely.

If the players’ cats go against this advice and go back to the hollow log within the next day, they will get there just in time to see the fox and her cubs walking up the hill away from the Lake and out of Clan territory. The fox will look back with a warning glare, as if to say “Don’t follow us!”

If the players’ cats wait a few days and then go back, they will find the fox’s den abandoned, and a fading scent trail leading up the hill away from Clan territory. Either way, the foxes are gone and they will not return to this part of the woods.

What Happens Next: The players’ cats should be proud of their accomplishments. Dealing with a fox is never easy, but dealing with an anxious mother fox is even more dangerous. They handled the situation wonderfully, and the leaders and other warriors will tell them so. All the Clans will tell stories of these deeds for many, many moons to come, and the two WindClan kits will grow up thinking of the players’ cats not just as warriors but as heroes!

22. Tending the Cubs

Read Aloud: “The fox lies limp on the ground, out cold. You feel a great rush of success momentarily—then you hear the whines and sniffs of fox cubs as they rush out to see what’s wrong with their mother.”

Narrator Tips: While beating the fox in battle may give the players’ cats a momentary sense of accomplishment, the truth is that it is a bad ending to the adventure. With their mother injured, the cubs’ lives are in jeopardy. While she is hurt, no one will be around to feed them or protect them from other forest animals.

Improvise a scene where other Clan cats arrive, including one or more of the Clan leaders. Have them point out that the warrior code says that all kits must be protected—and it seems reasonable to say that applies to these three fox cubs.

It should be clear that the players’ cats did well by rescuing the kits. But their actions also make them responsible for the fox cubs while the mother fox recovers. They will have to spend a day or two shepherding the cubs around, the way a Clan’s queens do for its kits, and even bringing food to the mother fox (who is too weak to hunt).

What Happens Next: When all is said and done, the fox and her cubs will leave the Clan territories, and the kits will be returned to WindClan. The adventure is a success and the players’ cats should be proud of their accomplishments. A fox is always a wily opponent, but a mother fox who is protecting her cubs is even more dangerous. Beating her in combat shows just how strong the cats have become, and the leaders and other warriors will tell them so. All the Clans will tell stories of these deeds for many, many moons to come, and the two WindClan kits will grow up thinking of the players’ cats not just as warriors but as heroes!

After the Adventure

After the last scene of the adventure has been played, the game itself is not necessarily over. There still are a few things you can do if the players want to keep at it.

Play It Again

Maybe you just want to try the whole thing a second time, starting back at the beginning or perhaps picking up somewhere in the middle where it feels like things went wrong. In either case, your cat would be right back where he or she was and have another chance to try to find a more favorable outcome.

One of the great things about storytelling games is that you can always tell the story again. And, since the actions of the fox are very much dependent on not only what the players’ cats do, but what order they do it in, this adventure could easily have several distinct twists in how the story unfolds.

Plus, however they handled the interaction with the fox the first time through, the cats may want to see what happens if they try a more aggressive tactic—or a less aggressive one. Playing again will let everyone see all the parts of the story and give other players the chance to try their hands at being the Narrator.

Experience

If the cats completed the adventure successfully, then they all get Experience rewards. It is important to note, though, that each cat can only get experience from this adventure once. If you play through and successfully finish the adventure several times, your cat only gains the rewards listed below after the first time he or she completes the adventure.

If you use different cats each time, though, each one can get the Experience rewards. The rule is not that a player can only get experience once, it’s that a cat can.

There is more than one way to successfully conclude this adventure. The players’ cats could have solved the situation by being diplomatic or by defeating the mother fox in a fight. As long as the fox and all her cubs were able to find a new den and carry on with their lives, it counted as a victory for the cats. However, the two resolutions have slightly different Experience rewards, as described in the Knack section below.

Age: Although the action in this adventure clearly happens over the course of a handful of days, the presumption is that this is the most interesting and exciting thing that happens to your cat during the whole of that moon. Increase your cat’s age by 1 moon and make any appropriate improvements described in Chapter Four of the game rules.

Skill: On top of the improvements your cat gets from aging, he or she also gains 1 level in the Smell Skill and 1 level in the Ponder Skill.

Knack: Dealing with a mother fox and her cubs certainly gave the players’ cats some lessons they would never have learned any other way. As a result, they each get a Knack based on what approach they used to resolve the situation.

If the players’ cats finished the adventure without having to fight and knock out the mother fox, they each gain 1 level of the Animal Lore Knack from interacting so closely with the mother fox and correctly interpreting her moods and intentions.

If the players’ cats finished the adventure by fighting the mother fox and knocking her out, they improved their fighting skills by facing down a very fast and dangerous foe. Each cat learned a few new sneaky combat moves and gains 1 level in the Feint Knack. If a cat already has 3 levels in Feint, then there wasn’t anything new for him or her to learn from this encounter.

Copyright

Night Whispers
Copyright © 2010 by Working Partners Limited
Warriors Adventure Game © 2009 by Working Partners Limited
“Uninvited Guests” © 2010 by Working Partners Limited
Series created by Working Partners Limited

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hunter, Erin.
Night whispers / by Erin Hunter. — 1st ed.
p. cm. — (Warriors, omen of the stars ; bk. 3)
Summary: As Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Dovepaw continue to seek answers to the mysterious prophecy that binds them, they learn that another cat may play an essential role in defeating the Dark Forest.
ISBN 978-0-06-155515-2 (trade bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-06-155516-9 (lib. bdg.)
[1. Cats—Fiction. 2. Prophecies—Fiction. 3. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 4. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.H916625Ni 2012
[Fic]—dc22

2010015313
CIP
AC

First Edition

EPub Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9780062025173

10  11  12  13  14  LP/RRDB  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

Extra Content

Meet the Clans

ThunderClan

ThunderClan Trivia: ThunderClan’s first leader, Thunder, earned his name because he used storms to his advantage, hunting during the loudest thunderclaps to confuse his prey.

Brambleclaw’s Welcome

Welcome to ThunderClan. Our camp is on the other side of that row of thornbushes, sheltered by the cliffs of stone. Forgive me if I don’t invite you in. I have only your word that you haven’t come to learn more than we are willing to share.

Would you like to know about ThunderClan’s battle tactics? Well, notice the brambles and ferns crowding in on you, blocking your sight. We see them as opportunities for camouflage and causing confusion to our enemies when we pounce on them from every side. We have been trained to fight in these enclosed spaces, paw-to-paw, with nowhere for the trespassers to flee. We can spin on the tip of a tail, find strength in a strike where there is barely room to draw back our paws, leap from a standstill while our enemy is struggling to turn around.

What is that you ask? You want to know the best ThunderClan battle tactic? Well, without giving away too much, let me just say that every ThunderClan apprentice loves to learn the Lightning Strike. Just like a bolt of lightning, it is straightforward, swift, and deadly. It’s fitting that ThunderClan should be able to summon up a storm, don’t you think?

ShadowClan

ShadowClan Trivia: ShadowClan often mocks ThunderClan for letting in too many kittypets, but if you look back through the history of the forest, ShadowClan has had far more warriors who came from Twolegplace. There have been many others in the past, lured from their housefolk by the promise of glory in battle, fearless comradeship, and respect from all the other Clans. Ironically, it is ShadowClan’s pride in their many victories that makes them so attractive to kittypets wanting a dramatic change of lifestyle.

Rowanclaw’s Welcome

Do you really expect me to invite you into our camp and explain why ShadowClan has the most feared warriors in all the Clans? Our strengths are our secrets. But I would not be betraying my role as Blackstar’s deputy if I told you that ShadowClan earned its name for a reason. We are night hunters, our senses most alert in the darkness and silence that befuddles other cats. We can slip noiselessly through shadows like fish through black water, and speak to one another without words. Unlike the other Clans, who cling to moonlight or the watchful shine of StarClan and Silverpelt, we like the freedom that is found in the darkest nights.

When it comes to battle, we waste no time rallying our warriors with speeches or promises of glory; they know what is expected of them, and they will deliver or face the shame of betraying their Clan. While the other Clans arrange themselves in lines and circles and elaborate battle plans, we swoop and strike and vanish into the night. We fight to win, nothing else.

Go now, and leave us to train in the dead of night. May StarClan—not ShadowClan—walk in your dreams.

RiverClan

RiverClan Trivia: Every so often, a RiverClan cat is born with a strong aversion to getting wet. These were once known as “drypaws”, and they struggled to fit in with other warriors. One leader took a stance against the internal bullying and gave drypaws special responsibility for den construction and flood protection for the camp. The drypaws’ distaste for water made them particularly skilled at keeping the river away from the living areas!

Reedwhisker’s Welcome

Welcome to RiverClan. You want to know the secret behind RiverClan’s strength in battle? Well, you are up to your bellies in it right now. That’s right, water. Water gives us the power to choose whether we fight or not, knowing that few cats are brave enough to swim across our borders to attack us. We can slide out of rivers like fish with fur, silently flooding the shore before our enemy knows we are there.

Have you seen how we hunt? Not with speed or stealth or pounces, but with lightning reflexes, scooping fish from the lake while they drowse below the surface. How would you like to feel these claws raking over your spine? In close combat, RiverClan cats are the most feared among all the Clans because we can hold our enemies down and rake their bellies until they beg for mercy. If the ground is too open for close combat, we’ll lure our enemies to the shore and drag them into the water to fight there. Other cats’ fur quickly becomes sodden and heavy, pulling them down, but our fur sheds water like the feathers on a duck. We stay light and nimble, freed by the water rather than trapped by it. Our rivals don’t stand any chance of winning when the lake fights alongside us.

WindClan

WindClan Trivia: WindClan once announced at a Gathering that all fish in the river belonged to them because the water flowed through their territory, via the gorge, first. RiverClan objected strongly so a contest was held to determine which Clan could catch the most fish. WindClan warriors trained hard, overcoming their natural distaste for water, and lost the contest by a very small margin. Generously, RiverClan allowed them to keep their share of the catch—on the understanding that they would never take fish from the river again.

Ashfoot’s Welcome

Come into our camp and settle down in the shade. You have nothing to fear. Unlike the other Clans, who skulk in brambles or shadows or even in water, WindClan has nothing to hide. We live in the open, and we fight in the open, too, with two lines of cats facing one another across empty ground. This is surely the noblest way to fight. Other Clans are content to skirmish amid bushes or mud, but open battles carry the weight of destiny.

SkyClan

SkyClan Trivia: Long before the Twolegs started building their nests on SkyClan’s territory, the medicine cats of SkyClan kept the terrible secret that their Clan would lose its home one day. When the first pine tree was felled, heralding the arrival of treecutplace, all the SkyClan warrior ancestors appeared in a dream to the medicine cat, bewailing the loss of their hunting grounds and foretelling the destruction of the Clan’s forest home. The medicine cat conspired to keep the truth from her Clanmates, hoping against hope that the prophecy would not come true.

Buzzardstar’s Welcome

My name is Buzzardstar, and I was once the leader of SkyClan. We earned our name because our warriors were happiest in the trees, hunting birds and climbing into nests for juicy, warm eggs. We could jump higher than any other cats, and climb more confidently, even to the thinnest branches. Like the hawks and eagles who swoop silently down on prey from above, SkyClan warriors could launch into battle from the air, dropping down on the enemy from the branches of trees and catching even the wariest intruders by surprise.

We were driven out of the forest many moons ago, when I was the deputy, after our territory was destroyed by Twolegs building new nests. We tried to make a new home at the source of the river that flowed through the forest, but we faced too many enemies, and within a few generations, my Clan had disappeared.

Even after watching the heartbreaking defeat of the Clanmates who came after me, I knew that SkyClan could live again, strong and proud and preserved by the warrior code. Now my Clan thrives once more, relearning the old battle moves that moons ago made SkyClan one of the most respected Clans of the forest.

The Warrior Code

1. Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but one day you may meet them in battle. Your loyalty must remain to your Clan.

2. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory.

3. Elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders.

4. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life.

5. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice.

6. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name.

7. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice.

8. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires.

9. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh.

10. A gathering of all four Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time.

11. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats.

12. No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan.

13. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code.

14. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense.

15. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.

Cats of the Clans

Firestar

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Rusty/Firepaw/Fireheart

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mate: Sandstorm

Kits: Leafkit (later: Leafpool); Squirrelkit (later: Squirrelflight)

Defining Moment: See Fireheart receive his nine lives and take the name Firestar in . . .

“Welcome, Fireheart.” The sound seemed to belong to all the cats Fireheart had ever known, and yet at the same time it was one clear voice. “Are you ready to receive your nine lives?”

Fireheart glanced around, but he couldn’t see any cat speaking. “Yes,” he replied, forcing his voice not to shake. “I’m ready.”

A golden tabby cat rose to his paws and strode toward him, his head and tail high. Fireheart recognized Lionheart, who had become Bluestar’s deputy when Fireheart was still an apprentice and who had died soon after in a battle with ShadowClan. He had been an old cat when Fireheart knew him, but now he looked young and strong again, his coat shining with pale fire.

“Lionheart!” Fireheart gasped. “Is it really you?”

Lionheart did not reply. When he was close enough, he stooped and touched his nose to Fireheart’s head. It burned against him like the hottest flame and the coldest ice. Fireheart’s instinct was to shrink away, but he could not move.

“With this life I give you courage,” Lionheart murmured. “Use it well in defense of your Clan.”

At once a bolt of energy seared through Fireheart like lightning, setting his fur on end and filling his senses with a deafening roar. His eyes grew dark, and his mind filled with a chaotic swirl of battles and hunts, the feeling of claws raking across fur and teeth meeting in the flesh of prey.

The pain ebbed, leaving Fireheart weak and trembling. The darkness faded and he found himself in the unearthly clearing again. If that was one life received, he had eight more to go. How will I bear it? he thought in dismay.

Lionheart was already turning away, moving back to his place in the ranks of StarClan. Another cat rose and came toward Fireheart. At first Fireheart did not recognize him, but then he glimpsed a dark, dappled coat and bushy red tail and realized this must be Redtail. Fireheart had never met the ThunderClan deputy, who was murdered by Tigerstar on the very day Fireheart came to the forest as a kittypet, but he had sought out the truth about his death and used it to prove Tigerstar’s treachery.

Like Lionheart, Redtail bowed his head and touched his nose to Fireheart’s. “With this life I give you justice,” he mewed. “Use it well as you judge the actions of others.”

Once more an agonizing spasm rushed through Fireheart, and he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from yowling. When he recovered, panting as if he had raced all the way back to camp, he saw Redtail watching him. “Thank you,” the former deputy meowed solemnly. “You revealed the truth when no other cat could.”

Fireheart managed to nod in acknowledgment as Redtail went back to sit beside Lionheart again, and a third cat emerged from the ranks.

This time Fireheart’s jaws dropped open when he recognized the beautiful tabby, her coat glimmering with a silvery sheen. It was Graystripe’s lost love Silverstream, the RiverClan queen who had died bearing his kits. Her paws scarcely skimmed the ground as she bent down to him.

“With this life I give you loyalty to what you know to be right,” she meowed. Fireheart wondered if she was referring to the way he had helped Graystripe to see his forbidden love, trusting to the strength of their relationship even though it went against the warrior code. “Use it well to guide your Clan in times of trouble,” Silverstream urged him.

Fireheart braced himself for another agonizing pang, but this time there was less pain as the new life rushed through him. He was aware of a warm glow of love, and realized dimly that that was what had marked out Silverstream’s life—love for her Clan, for Graystripe, and for the kits she had died to give life to.

“Silverstream!” he whispered as the silver-gray she-cat turned away again. “Don’t go yet. Haven’t you any message for Graystripe?”

But Silverstream said nothing more, only glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes filled with love and sorrow that told Fireheart more than all the words she could ever say.

He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the next life-giving. When he looked up again, a fourth cat was approaching him. This time it was Runningwind, the ThunderClan warrior who had been killed by Tigerstar in a fight near the Thunderpath.

“With this life I give you tireless energy,” he meowed as he bowed his head to touch Fireheart. “Use it well to carry out the duties of a leader.”

As the life coursed through Fireheart he felt as if he were racing through the forest, his paws skimming the ground, his fur flattened by the wind. He knew the exhilaration of the hunt and the sheer joy of speed, and he had the feeling that he could outrun any enemy forever.

His gaze followed Runningwind as he returned to his place. When the fifth cat appeared his heart gave a leap of joy. It was Brindleface, Cloudtail’s foster mother, who had been cruelly slaughtered by Tigerstar to give the dog pack a taste for cat blood.

“With this life I give you protection,” she told him. “Use it well to care for your Clan as a mother cares for her kits.”

Fireheart expected this life to be gentle and loving like Silverstream’s, and he wasn’t ready for the bolt of ferocity that transfixed him. He felt as though all the fury of their ancient ancestors TigerClan and LionClan were pulsing through him, challenging any cat to harm the weaker, faceless shadows that crouched by his paws. Shocked and trembling, Fireheart recognized a mother’s desire to protect her kits, and realized how much Brindleface had loved them all—even Cloudtail, who was not her own.

I must tell him, Fireheart thought as the fury ebbed, before he remembered that he was bound to say nothing to any cat about what he had experienced in the ritual.

Brindleface drew back to sit with the other cats of StarClan again, and another familiar figure took her place. Guilt washed over Fireheart as he recognized Swiftpaw.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he looked into the apprentice’s eyes. “It was my fault you died.”

Angry at Bluestar’s refusal to make him a warrior, and desperate to prove himself, Swiftpaw had gone out to track down whatever was preying on the cats in the forest. The dog pack had killed him, and Fireheart knew he would blame himself forever for not trying harder to make Bluestar change her mind.

But Swiftpaw showed no anger now. His eyes shone with a wisdom far beyond his age as he touched his nose to Fireheart’s. “With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan.”

The life Swiftpaw gave him was a pang of anguish so great Fireheart thought it would stop his heart. It ended in a jolt of pure terror, and a flash of light red as blood. Fireheart knew he was experiencing what Swiftpaw had felt in the last moments of his life.

As it ebbed away, leaving Fireheart gasping, he began to feel like a hollow in the ground as rain falls into it and spills over. He thought that his strength would hardly sustain him to receive lives from the three cats that were still to come.

The first was Yellowfang. The old medicine cat had the same air of obstinate independence and courage that had impressed and frustrated Fireheart in equal measure when she was alive. He remembered the last time he had seen her, dying in her den after the fire. Then she had been in despair, wondering if StarClan would receive her even though she had killed her own son, Brokentail, to put an end to his bloodthirsty plotting. Now the gleam of humor was back in her yellow eyes as she stooped to touch Fireheart.

“With this life I give you compassion,” she announced. “Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than yourself.”

This time, even knowing the pain he would have to bear, Fireheart closed his eyes and drank in the life hungrily, wanting all of Yellowfang’s spirit, all her courage and her loyalty to the Clan that was not hers by birth. He received it like a tide of light surging through him: her humor, her sharp tongue, her warmheartedness, and her sense of honor. He felt closer to her than ever before.

“Oh, Yellowfang . . .” Fireheart whispered, his eyes blinking open again. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The medicine cat was already moving away. The cat who took her place was younger, stepping lightly, the sparkle of stars in her fur and in her eyes: Spottedleaf, the beautiful tortoiseshell who had been Fireheart’s first love. She had come to him in dreams, but he had never seen her as plainly as this since she had been alive. He breathed in her sweet scent as she bent over him. This cat, more than any, was the one with whom he wanted to speak, because the time they had had together had been too short to let them share their true feelings.

“Spottedleaf . . .”

“With this life I give you love,” she murmured in her soft voice. “Use it well, for all the cats in your care—and especially for Sandstorm.”

There was no pain in the life that poured into Fireheart now. It held the warmth of the high sun in greenleaf, burning to the tips of his paws. It was pure love; at the same time he experienced the sense of security he had known as a tiny kit, nuzzling his mother. He gazed up at Spottedleaf, wrapped in a contentment he had never known before.

He thought he caught a proud gleam in her eyes as she turned away, and his disappointment that she had not stayed to talk to him was mixed with relief that she approved of his new choice. Now he had no reason to fear that he was being unfaithful to Spottedleaf in his love for Sandstorm.

At last Bluestar approached Fireheart. She was not the old, defeated cat Fireheart had known recently, her mind giving way under the stress of her Clan’s troubles. This was Bluestar at the height of her strength and power, prowling toward him across the clearing like a lion. Fireheart was almost dazzled by the glory of starlight around her, but he forced himself to meet her blue gaze squarely.

“Welcome, Fireheart, my apprentice, my warrior, and my deputy,” she greeted him. “I always knew you would make a great leader one day.”

As Fireheart bowed his head, Bluestar touched him with her nose and went on; “With this life I give you nobility and certainty and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code.”

The warmth of Spottedleaf ’s life had lulled Fireheart, and he was unprepared for the agony that shook him as he received Bluestar’s. He shared the fierceness of her ambition, the anguish she had suffered when she gave up her kits, the ferocity of battle after battle in the service of her Clan. He felt her terror as her mind fragmented and she lost her trust in StarClan. The rush of power grew stronger and stronger, until Fireheart thought his pelt would never contain it. Just as he thought he must yowl his pain or die, it began to ebb, ending in a sense of calm acceptance and joy.

A long, soft sigh passed through the clearing. All the StarClan warriors had risen to their paws. Bluestar stayed in the center of the clearing and signaled with her tail that Fireheart should rise too. He obeyed her shakily, feeling as if the fullness of life inside him would spill over when he moved. His body felt as battered as if he had fought the hardest battle of his life, and yet his spirit soared with the strength of the lives he had been granted.

“I hail you by your new name, Firestar,” Bluestar announced. “Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of ThunderClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.”

Bluestar

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Bluekit/Bluefur

Mother: Moonflower

Father: Stormtail

Mate: Oakheart (RiverClan)

Kits: Mosskit, Stonekit (later: Stonefur), Mistykit (later: Mistyfoot; Mistystar)

Defining Moment: See Bluestar make a heartbreaking decision in . . .

A full moon hung above Fourtrees. The clouds had cleared though snow still smothered the forest.

The Gathering had begun.

Bluefur stared around the clearing, blind to the cats mingling around her. She saw the roots where she made a nest with Oakheart; the branches they had climbed to look at the sky. She wished she were high up there now, closer to the stars than to the problems of her Clan, far from the grief that tore at her heart.

Stop it! There was no time to indulge in sadness or memories. She searched the pelts streaming around her. Where are you, Oakheart? Please be here.

The hollow was noisy, full of chatter, swirling with cats. Sunstar had let her come to the Gathering even though she was a nursing queen; she wondered if something in her eyes had persuaded him. She pictured her kits now, safe and warm beside White-eye’s belly.

Oakheart!

She spotted his tawny pelt swimming through the crowd. Shouldering her way through a cluster of ShadowClan warriors, she headed for him, keeping her gaze fixed on his pelt in case she lost sight of him.

“Oakheart,” she hissed as soon as he was close enough to hear.

He spun around, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“We need to talk.”

He nodded and darted away, beckoning Bluefur with his tail. She followed as he weaved out of the crowd and slid behind one of the great oaks.

“I heard about the kits,” he whispered. “How are they? What do they look like?” His eyes were glowing with pride and, for a moment, Bluefur forgot what she had come to tell him. If only he could see their kits, curled like sleepy dormice in the nursery.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed. “I named them Stonekit, Mistykit, and Mosskit.”

Oakheart sighed and sat down. “I wish I could see them.”

“You can.” Bluefur stiffened. “I can’t keep them.”

“What?” Oakheart stared at her in disbelief.

“My Clan needs me more.”

“I—I don’t understand.” His mouth hung open.

He thinks I’m heartless. Bluefur shut her eyes for a moment, looking for the fire that burned inside her. Then she looked at the cat that had once been her mate. “Our kits are lucky,” she meowed. “They have both you and me to protect them. ThunderClan has only me.”

“What are you asking me?” Oakheart growled.

“You have to take them. I’ll bring them to Sunningrocks tomorrow night.”

Oakheart narrowed his eyes. “If I take them, they’ll be raised as RiverClan warriors,” he warned. “For their own sakes, they will never know that you were their mother.”

“I understand,” Bluefur whispered. Would her kits forget her so easily? How could she let them grow up without her? She had to—or they would drown in blood with their Clanmates when Thistleclaw came to power. She blinked and turned to walk away. She had to trust in StarClan. And in Oakheart.

His paw tugged her pelt.

“Bluefur?”

“What?” She turned on him, eyes fiery as she fought to stay strong.

“This isn’t like you,” he murmured. “I can see how much you love our kits. You are a good mother.”

Her voice cracked. “I can’t be what I want to be. I need to be strong as fire. I need to save my Clan.” Grief clouded her gaze, and Oakheart swam in front of her. “It is for the best,” she whispered. “I hope they know that they have been loved. Even if they don’t remember me, I hope they’ll know that.”

Oakheart touched his muzzle to her cheek. “They will know,” he promised. “And . . . thank you.” The warmth of his breath brought memories surging back until Bluefur couldn’t bear it any longer, and she wrenched herself away. She padded back into the throng of cats, knowing that each paw step took her farther from her kits.

Please, StarClan. Let this truly be the path you wish me to follow.

Yellowfang

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Yellowkit/Yellowpaw

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mate: Raggedstar (ShadowClan)

Kits: Brokenkit (later: Brokenstar)

Defining Moment: Hear from Yellowfang in her own words in . . .

A Thankless Kit

As soon as I found out I was going to have kits, I knew it was a punishment from StarClan. Medicine cats are not supposed to fall in love. My relationship with Raggedstar was wrong in every way, and I knew it.

But I never expected all of ShadowClan would be punished for my mistakes.

I kept my secret well. No cat knew that their medicine cat was carrying kits, although of course I told Raggedstar. He was so pleased. . . . That should have frightened me even more. The arrogance of thinking we could do whatever we wanted, without consequences . . .

It was a hard birth, a horrible birth. That was an omen too. I snuck out of camp that morning, knowing my kits were coming. I found a hollow in a dead tree, filled with damp leaves. There was a smell of toadstools and something rotting, but I didn’t have the strength to drag myself any farther. And I hoped the stench would hide my scent while I gave birth, alone in the woods. I didn’t want any ShadowClan cats to find me, not even Raggedstar. I just wanted it to be over.

I felt like I was lying in that dead tree for days. Everything hurt—my whole body, down to the tips of my fur and the ends of my claws. As a medicine cat, I should have been able to take care of myself, but I was too weak to do anything, even eat the herbs I’d brought.

Finally there were three small bundles next to me on the pile of leaves. Two of them were squirming; one was completely still. I prodded it with my paw, but she had been born dead. Her eyes would never open.

I dragged the other two toward me. With all the strength I could manage, I began to lick them, trying to warm them and wake them up. One let out an angry wail the minute I touched him; the other only whimpered slightly and jerked her paws. I could see that the tom kit was a fighter right from the beginning. His lungs were so powerful, I was surprised it didn’t bring the entire Clan running to find us. He battered his sister with his paws every time he moved, but she barely reacted.

I tried as long as I could, licking and licking her, but her breathing only got shallower and shallower, until finally it stopped altogether. Her tail twitched once and was still. I buried my nose in her fur, feeling grief crash down on me. It was a clear sign from StarClan. These kits should never have been born.

I turned my attention to my only surviving kit and saw the expression on his small, flat face. He was new to the world—couldn’t yet see, could barely crawl to my belly to feed. And yet his face was already twisted with strong emotion. . . . Rage? Hatred? I’d never seen such a terrifying look on any cat, let alone a tiny newborn kit.

Fear flooded through me, making me cold. Maybe this kit wasn’t meant to survive, either. A kit born with so much anger in him could mean only grave danger to the Clan, maybe to the whole forest.

But then he squirmed over to me and pressed his face into my fur. He was so small, so helpless. Perhaps I had misunderstood what I’d seen. He was only a little kit, after all—my kit, and the son of Raggedstar, the cat I loved. I couldn’t keep him for myself, but I could watch him from across the clearing as he grew up. I could make sure he turned into a fine warrior. I licked the top of his head, and he let out a small purr. My heart seemed to expand to fill my whole chest.

I buried his sisters before we returned to camp, digging deep into the dirt so no cat would ever sniff them out. Then I slunk back through the undergrowth, my fur matted and stinking of toadstools, the kit dangling from my mouth. I stopped to clean myself in a pool near the camp entrance. By the time we entered the camp, no cat would be able to guess the ordeal I had been through.

Raggedstar spotted us the minute I pushed through the bramble tunnel. He barely even looked at me; his eyes were all for the kit, and they were full of hope and excitement. He came bounding across the clearing to follow me into the nursery.

Lizardstripe was there, of course, tending to her own two kits, born a few days earlier. Her pale brown tabby fur and white underbelly seemed to glow in the darkness of the nursery den. She looked at me with narrow, unfriendly eyes. I had never really liked or trusted Lizardstripe, but she was the only nursing queen at the moment. I had no choice.

I dropped the kit at her paws, and he let out another furious shriek.

“What,” said Lizardstripe, “is that?”

“It’s a kit,” I said.

“It’s my kit,” Raggedstar said proudly, shouldering his way into the den.

“Oh, yes?” Lizardstripe said dryly. “What a miracle. If I’d known toms could have kits, I would have made Mudclaw have these brats of mine himself.”

Raggedstar ignored her. The space seemed to get smaller with him in it, as if he drew all the light into himself. I wanted to press myself into his fur and tell him everything I’d been through and about the two tiny bodies out in the forest. But he still wasn’t looking at me.

He crouched and sniffed at his son. The kit tried to lift his head
and then swiped his paw through the air, connecting with Raggedstar’s nose. Our leader jerked his head back in surprise.

“Look at that!” he cried delightedly. “He’s a little warrior already!”

Lizardstripe’s yellow gaze was making me uncomfortable. “His mother wishes to keep her identity secret,” I said. “She cannot be a mother to this kit, and she hopes that you will take him in for her.”

Lizardstripe lashed her tail. “What kind of mouse-brained nonsense is that?” she snapped. “Why should I have to put up with another mewling lump of fur? I didn’t ask for these kits, either, but you don’t see me dumping them on some other cat. It’s not my job to take care of every unwanted kitten in the Clan.”

Raggedstar snarled, and Lizardstripe shrank back in her nest. “He is not unwanted,” Raggedstar spat. “He is my son, and I will always claim him as my own. You are being given a great honor, you unworthy cat. Who wouldn’t want to be mother to the Clan leader’s son—and perhaps the future leader of the Clan himself?”

Lizardstripe hissed softly. But she knew better than to argue with Raggedstar. And perhaps she saw the wisdom of his words. As the mother of Raggedstar’s son—even if the Clan knew she wasn’t his real mother—she would hold power in the Clan.

“All right, fine,” she spat ungraciously. “Hand him over.”

As I nestled my son into the curve of her belly, I felt a strong pang of uneasiness. What kind of life would he have, with an ambitious queen like Lizardstripe raising him? No cat would know I was his mother, not even the kit himself. I would never be able to sway him to be good, to follow the warrior code and believe in the wisdom of StarClan. I would just have to hope that he would turn out all right.

“His name is Brokenkit,” I said, my voice faltering. Lizardstripe nodded, seeing the bend in his tail, like a broken branch. That’s where every cat would think he’d gotten his name. But the truth is, I named him for the feeling in my chest as I left him there, as if my heart were breaking in two, as if my life had broken down the middle.

Most cats assumed that Raggedstar’s deputy, Foxheart, was Brokenkit’s mother. She was always a little secretive, and he let her get away with a lot. She never contradicted the rumors; it was to her advantage to let other cats think she was the secret mother of Raggedstar’s kit. She died a few moons later, anyway, in a battle with rats near Carrionplace, shortly before Lizardstripe died of greencough. The next deputy, Cloudpelt, didn’t last much longer than they did, and by then Brokentail was old enough for Raggedstar to make him deputy.

Raggedstar always thought his son would make a great leader. He was blind to all of Brokentail’s faults—his cunning, his ruthlessness, his violent nature. Raggedstar didn’t care for me anymore. His life was all about Brokentail from the moment he laid eyes on that kit.

My punishment stretched on as Brokentail clawed his way to power, and I realized what a monster I’d brought into the forest. But it was my mistake, and I had to live with it. And there was a part of me that still remembered him as a newborn kit—the tiny scrap of fur I nursed in the hollow of a dead tree.

When I had to kill him to protect my new adopted Clan, I knew I was finally at the end of my punishment. I had brought him into the world; I had to send him out, as painful as it was.

But by then I had found a truer son than Brokentail ever could have been. I only hope Fireheart will rise to be the great leader that Brokenstar never was and that, in some small way, I have helped to set him on that path.

Then, perhaps, StarClan will forgive me at last.

Leafpool

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Leafkit/Leafpaw

Mother: Sandstorm

Father: Firestar

Mate: Crowfeather (WindClan)

Kits: Jaykit (later: Jayfeather); Lionkit (later: Lionblaze); Hollykit (later: Hollyleaf)

Defining Moment: See Leafpool discover the Moonpool in . . .

“Look at the water, Leafpaw,” the ghostly cat murmured.

Puzzled, Leafpaw looked down, and felt the stone beneath her paws lurch. Instead of stars she saw the reflections of many, many cats, their moonlit pelts shimmering. Countless pairs of eyes gleamed expectantly at her, as if they had known she would come.

Hardly daring to breathe, Leafpaw looked up. All around her sat the shining warriors of StarClan, lining the hollow’s sloping sides. Their eyes glowed like tiny moons, and their fur was tipped with the glitter of frost.

“Don’t be afraid,” Spottedleaf murmured. “We have been waiting for you to find your way to us.”

Leafpaw wasn’t afraid. She was conscious of nothing but warmth and goodwill in the starry gazes fixed on her. Most of the warriors were unfamiliar to her, but in one of the front rows she saw Dappletail, the ThunderClan elder who had died from eating a rabbit poisoned by the Twolegs. The she-cat looked graceful and beautiful, not thin and desperate as she had been when Leafpaw last saw her. Her eyes glowed with welcome, and she nodded toward two small shapes near the water’s edge, tumbling together as they chased a shaft of moonlight. As their play brought them close to her Leafpaw drank in their sweet kit scent. With a stab of joy, she recognized Hollykit and Larchkit, who had starved when Twolegs destroyed the forest. A half-grown cat reached out with a paw to nudge the starry kits away from the water’s edge: it was their brother Shrewpaw, the apprentice struck by a Twoleg monster as he tried to hunt for their Clan.

I must tell Ferncloud, thought Leafpaw, knowing how happy their mother would be to know that her three kits were safe in the ranks of StarClan.

Then she realized that one cat was missing. She ran her gaze quickly around the hollow to make sure. There was no sign of Graystripe. Leafpaw’s heart leaped. Did that mean that Firestar was right when he insisted that his friend was still alive?

Across the pool, a blue-gray warrior rose to her paws. She reminded Leafpaw of some cat. . . . Of course, she’s the image of Mistyfoot! This must be Bluestar, Mistyfoot’s mother, and ThunderClan’s leader before Firestar.

“Welcome, Leafpaw,” Bluestar meowed. “We are delighted to welcome you here. This is where medicine cats must come to share tongues with StarClan, and where your leaders will receive their nine lives and their names.”

“It’s beautiful, Bluestar,” Leafpaw whispered. “Thank you for sending Spottedleaf to help me find it.”

“You must go back and tell all the Clans,” Bluestar continued. “But first there is a friend who wants to speak to you.”

A beautiful silver-gray cat left the ranks of cats and padded around the pool toward Leafpaw.

“Feathertail!”

The radiant warrior came to a halt in front of her. She touched noses with her, a caress light as a breeze whispering against Leafpaw’s muzzle.

“I thought we left you with the Tribe of Endless Hunting,” Leafpaw meowed.

Feathertail shook her head. “I walk in two skies now, with the Tribe’s ancestors as well as my own. But wherever I am, I shall never forget the Clans.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Especially Crowfeather.”

“He misses you very much. He chose his warrior name for you.”

“Yes, I was watching,” Feathertail purred. “I was so proud. He will make a great warrior.” She bent close to Leafpaw again, her warm breath stirring the apprentice’s fur. “Tell him not to grieve. I will always love him, but there will be many, many moons before we meet again. For now, he must live with his Clanmates in their new home. He cannot be blind to the cats who are around him for all that time.”

“I’ll tell him,” Leafpaw promised.

Feathertail dipped her head and turned away, starlight dappling her silver pelt. The warriors began to fade until they were little more than a starry sheen around the slopes of the hollow, and then they were gone. Leafpaw caught one more breath of Spottedleaf’s scent before that faded too.

She looked up and saw that the sky was growing brighter. Sorreltail was standing at the top of the hollow, looking down at her.

Leafpaw ran up the path to join her. “Did you see them?” she asked excitedly.

Sorreltail tipped her head on one side. “See who?”

“StarClan! They were here, all around the hollow! I spoke to Bluestar, and Feathertail!” Leafpaw trailed off when she saw that Sorreltail was looking bewildered, and a little wary.

“I saw a bright mist rising from the pool,” she mewed hesitantly.

“That must have been them,” Leafpaw told her. She gazed around the hollow with the sound of tumbling starlit water filling her ears. “This is the place.”

“Are you sure?”

At that moment the rays of the moon caught the surface of the water, and a pure white light flooded the hollow.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Leafpaw mewed. “We no longer have the Moonstone—but we have the Moonpool. This is the place where StarClan will share tongues with us.” She turned to Sorreltail, feeling her fur glitter with starlight.

“We’ve found it! This is where the Clans are meant to be.”

Squirrelflight

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Squirrelkit/Squirrelpaw

Mother: Sandstorm

Father: Firestar

Mate: Brambleclaw

Kits: None

Defining Moment: See Squirrelflight receive her warrior name in . . .

Firestar’s voice interrupted his troubled thoughts. “I would like to start ThunderClan’s life here by honoring a new warrior. Squirrelpaw, where are you?”

“What? Me!” In her astonishment, Squirrelpaw squeaked like a kit. She sprang to her paws, her ears pricked and her tail standing straight up.

“Yes, you.” Brambleclaw saw a gleam of amusement in Firestar’s eyes as he beckoned to his daughter. “ThunderClan owes you more than I can say for making the journey to sun-drown-place, and helping lead the Clans to this new home. Dustpelt and I agree that if ever an apprentice deserved her warrior name, you do.”

Brambleclaw stretched out and gently touched his muzzle against the tip of Squirrelpaw’s ear. “Go on,” he murmured. “Firestar is right. You deserve to become a warrior after everything you’ve done for the Clan.”

She blinked at him, too shocked to speak, then turned and picked her way to the tree stump where Firestar was waiting. Before she reached it, her mother, Sandstorm, stepped forward. Squirrelpaw stopped in front of her. Sandstorm’s eyes glowed with pride as she gave her daughter a few swift licks to smooth her fur. Brambleclaw watched Leafpaw come over as well to press her muzzle against her sister’s side.

Squirrelpaw’s mentor, Dustpelt, padded up to lead her the rest of the way to the stump, and he stood beside her as they waited for Firestar to speak.

Firestar leaped down and blinked encouragingly at Squirrelpaw before lifting his head to address the gathered cats. “This is the first time any cat has spoken these words in our new home,” he began. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.”

There was a burning intensity in his eyes, and Brambleclaw understood how much this moment meant to Firestar, not just for ThunderClan but for all four Clans that had journeyed here from their home far away. By calling upon StarClan to make a new warrior, they were claiming this unfamiliar place as their own. There had been many, many times on the journey when they had feared they had left their warrior ancestors behind, but Firestar addressed them now as confidently as if their starry spirits glowed overhead. Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle with guilt, wishing he could be so certain that StarClan had made the journey with them. Still, he told himself, they had reached somewhere that looked as if it would make a safe home for the Clans; perhaps his leader was right to feel confident. He shook his head, forcing his concerns away, and listened to the warrior ceremony.

“Squirrelpaw,” the ThunderClan leader was saying, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Squirrelpaw’s reply rang out clearly. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Squirrelpaw, from this moment you will be known as Squirrelflight. StarClan honors your courage and your determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Firestar rested his muzzle on Squirrelflight’s head, and she gave his shoulder a respectful lick. Determination was an unusual virtue to mention in the warrior ceremony; in Squirrelflight, it sometimes showed as stubbornness, and had led her close to trouble more than once. Brambleclaw wondered if father and daughter were remembering all the times they had clashed, when Squirrelflight’s fierce independence had brought her into conflict with her leader and the warrior code. But then, Brambleclaw reflected, there had been times on their journey when her determination and will to succeed had put fresh heart into all her companions. Pride flooded him as he remembered her tireless courage, her refusal to think they would ever fail to reach their journey’s end.

When she stepped away from Firestar, Leafpaw bounded up to her, greeting her by her new name. “Squirrelflight! Squirrelflight!”

Brambleclaw

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Bramblekit/Bramblepaw

Mother: Goldenflower

Father: Tigerstar

Mate: Squirrelflight

Kits: None

Defining Moment: See Brambleclaw be named deputy in . . .

Firestar waited until the whole Clan was gathered around him. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began, “the day has come that I never wanted to see. You all know that Graystripe was lost to us when Twolegs trapped him in the old forest. Since then I’ve tried to believe that he was still alive, and that he’d come back to us one day. But now . . .”

His voice faltered, and he stood a moment with his head bowed before going on. Then he straightened up again and his voice was steadier.

“I have to face the fact that ThunderClan can’t go on any longer without a deputy.” He looked up at the darkening sky, where a single warrior of StarClan had appeared, right above the hollow. “Graystripe is dead.”

For a heartbeat the Clan was silent; Leafpool could hear nothing but the faint rustling of the trees. The ThunderClan warriors looked at one another, eyes stunned with grief. Then a soft murmur rose, of compassion and acceptance. Leafpool saw several cats, including Mousefur, nodding with sad approval. They believed Firestar was right. He had their support again, but Leafpool knew what the cost had been to him.

“Tonight we will sit vigil for Graystripe,” Firestar went on. “And before moonhigh I will appoint the new deputy.”

The last of the daylight rippled on the cats’ fur as they moved into the center of the clearing and crouched down. Leafpool almost felt as if she could see Graystripe’s powerful gray body lying in the midst of them.

“He was my mentor,” Brackenfur meowed. “I learned more from him than from any cat.”

“We trained together,” Dustpelt added. “We fought and hunted together, and StarClan knows we fell out at times, but I always knew I could trust him.”

“He never gave up, and he always fought to keep his Clan safe,” mewed Sandstorm.

Firestar had not moved from where he stood beneath the Highledge, but he added his voice to the rest. “He was loyal through and through. He was the truest friend a cat ever had. StarClan will receive him with honor.” His voice shook again and this time he made no attempt to steady it as he added, “Farewell, Graystripe. May StarClan light your path.”

He bowed his head and padded slowly to the rockfall, to climb up to his den and grieve alone.

Leafpool crouched with the rest of her Clan in the whispering silence, while the night grew darker and StarClan gathered overhead. Were they greeting a new warrior? The last time she had met with StarClan at the Moonpool, there had been no sign of Graystripe. Perhaps Graystripe wasn’t lost under different skies; perhaps he wasn’t dead at all.

She stirred uneasily and her gaze went to the crack in the rock wall that led to Firestar’s den. Even if that were true, Leafpool was as certain as ever that ThunderClan needed a new deputy. Whether Graystripe was alive or not, he wasn’t here to carry out his duties and give his strength to the Clan.

She raised her eyes to the glitter of Silverpelt above her head. “Please, send me a sign,” she murmured. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the dream from StarClan.

She found herself in the forest on a bright day in newleaf, with sunshine dancing golden on moss and fern. She thought she was near the hollow, but when she padded along the path that should have led her to the entrance, she found herself confronted by a thick wall of bramble.

The air was filled with the scent of ThunderClan cats, and from the middle of the bramble thicket she thought she could hear the happy squealing of kits at play. Curious, she leaped into the nearest tree, scrambling up until she could see what lay on the other side of the brambles.

She was looking down into the ThunderClan camp. She could see the familiar dens, a well-stocked fresh-kill pile, and her Clanmates padding back and forth or sprawled lazily in the sunlight. But instead of high stone walls, the clearing was surrounded by tall barriers of bramble.

Suddenly Leafpool felt herself swooping down from the branch until she was hovering above the topmost tendrils, as if she were a bird. From here she could gaze right into the wall of thickly intertwining stems. Every branch bristled with thorns and, as Leafpool looked closer, she saw that they weren’t thorns at all, but cats’ claws, strong and curved and pointing outward to keep out ThunderClan’s enemies.

Bramble claws! Brambleclaw was keeping the Clan safe.

The understanding jerked her awake. Around her the Clan cats still kept their vigil for Graystripe. Silverpelt blazed overhead, and the moon skimmed the branches of the trees, shedding its pale light into the clearing. Moonhigh had almost come, and soon Firestar would name his new deputy.

Shivering, Leafpool sat up and drew a paw over her face. She had prayed to StarClan for a sign, and they had answered her prayer as clearly as any cat could wish for: Brambleclaw was the cat they wanted to protect ThunderClan. Even though he had never had an apprentice, even though the starry warriors must know about his meetings with Hawkfrost and Tigerstar, he was still the cat they had chosen.

Quietly, so as not to disturb her grieving Clanmates, Leafpool got up and extended her forepaws in a long stretch. Then she headed for her father’s den.

When she reached it, she found Firestar crouched in his nest with his paws tucked under him. She was thankful to see that the stunned look of grief had faded from his eyes; he was deep in thought and started as she spoke his name.

“Leafpool, is that you? What can I do for you?”

“I have to talk to you, Firestar. StarClan have sent me a sign.” Rapidly, aware of the moon steadily rising above the camp, Leafpool told him her dream.

“Brambleclaw?” Firestar echoed when she had finished. “Yes, he’s a good warrior. He would make an excellent deputy.” He shifted among the moss and ferns. “I’d almost decided to appoint Brackenfur,” he went on. “He would be a good deputy too, and he is a loyal warrior. But I have to remember that I’m not only choosing a deputy, I’m choosing the cat who might be the next leader of ThunderClan. And somehow . . . I’m not sure Brackenfur is that cat.”

“Brambleclaw could be,” Leafpool mewed. “I know he hasn’t had an apprentice yet, but I don’t think StarClan would have sent me that sign if it mattered to them. These are unusual times—ThunderClan has never had so few apprentices. I . . . I truly believe that Brambleclaw is the right choice.” In spite of all her misgivings, she couldn’t ignore the tabby tom’s courage and warrior skills, and the determination that had led his companion cats to the sun-drown-place and brought them home with the prophecy that had saved the Clans. He had been chosen by StarClan then; this could be the next paw step they wanted him to take.

Firestar nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Leafpool.” He rose and gave himself a quick grooming. “Come on. It’s time.”

He padded out of the den and onto the Highledge. Leafpool followed and stood at his shoulder, looking down into the clearing. The Clan were already gathering below, aware that moonhigh was only moments away. Their eyes gleamed pale in the moonlight as they stared up at the ledge.

“The time has come to name ThunderClan’s new deputy,” Firestar announced. “I say these words before StarClan, that the spirits of our ancestors, and Graystripe’s spirit, wherever it may be, may hear and approve my choice.”

He paused, as if even now he was reluctant to let go of the last hope that Graystripe would come back. But his voice was stronger as he continued.

“Brambleclaw will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

Gasps of surprise came from the cats below. “What, that bossy furball?” Spiderleg exclaimed, then looked embarrassed that he’d spoken aloud.

Leafpool could see astonishment reflected on the faces of every cat, though none was more astonished than Brambleclaw himself. His amber eyes stretched wide with shock. “But I’ve never had an apprentice!” he blurted out.

“That’s against the warrior code,” Dustpelt pointed out sharply.

“Firestar, do you think you can do anything you like?” Mousefur’s wiry body was taut with anger. “We want a deputy to make the Clan strong, not an inexperienced young cat we can’t trust.”

“Who says we can’t trust him?” Squirrelflight demanded.

“Silence!” Firestar lashed his tail. “Brambleclaw has experience that few cats in the forest share. As for his lack of an apprentice, that will be put right soon. Daisy’s kits are almost ready for mentors, and as soon as that day comes, Brambleclaw will mentor Berrykit.”

In spite of the tension around her, Leafpool had to suppress a mrrow of amusement when she heard the squeal that went up from the direction of the nursery. Craning her neck to peer through the branches, she spotted Berrykit madly chasing his tail in excitement.

“But those weren’t my only reasons for choosing Brambleclaw,” Firestar continued. “Leafpool, tell the Clan about your dream, please.”

Leafpool stepped forward to the edge of the Highledge and described the sign that StarClan had sent her, of the circle of brambles keeping the Clan safe. When she finished, she saw Dustpelt dip his head.

“I can’t quarrel with StarClan,” he meowed.

“Well, I can!” To Leafpool’s surprise, the challenge came from Ashfur. He marched forward until he stood directly beneath the Highledge, the moonlight turning his gray pelt to silver. Instead of addressing his leader, he turned to face the Clan. “Doesn’t any cat think it’s odd that Squirrelflight is Brambleclaw’s mate, and our medicine cat is Squirrelflight’s sister? It’s very convenient that she had a sign about Brambleclaw just now, isn’t it?”

Leafpool felt her neck fur bristling. How dared Ashfur suggest that she would invent a sign to help her sister’s mate become deputy! Even if he was bitter at losing Squirrelflight to Brambleclaw, he should know that a medicine cat would never lie.

“Ashfur, you—” she began.

Her words were drowned in a furious yowl from Squirrelflight. “Say that to my face, fox dung!”

The ginger warrior lunged at Ashfur, but Brambleclaw thrust her to one side and wrapped his tail around her neck. He was saying something to her, speaking fast and urgently, too low for Leafpool to hear.

“Do any other cats agree with Ashfur?” Firestar demanded calmly.

Leafpool saw Spiderleg glance uneasily from side to side; he opened his jaws to speak and then obviously thought better of it.

“None of us agree,” Brackenfur called out. “Leafpool is an honest cat. If StarClan chose Brambleclaw, that’s enough for us. I think he’ll make a great deputy.”

Brambleclaw stepped away from Squirrelflight with a last warning glance. He dipped his head to Brackenfur and then, more deeply still, to Firestar. “Thank you,” he meowed. “I know I can never fill Graystripe’s place, but I’ll do my best to be a good deputy for ThunderClan.”

Lionpaw, Jaypaw, and Hollypaw

Clan: ThunderClan

Also known as: Lionkit/Lionblaze; Jaykit/Jayfeather; Hollykit/Hollyleaf

Mother: Leafpool

Father: Crowfeather (WindClan)

Defining Moment: See Jaypaw receive the prophecy that says he holds the power of the stars in his paws in . . .

Jaypaw blinked open his eyes. He had not intended to dream. But here he was, in an unfamiliar place, standing on a dry, sandy bank in a narrow, high-sided gully. Above him, the night sky stretched like a black river, speckled with stars. There were no bushes to shelter him, no soft ferns thick with the smell of prey, just a few prickly shrubs and smooth boulders casting round shadows like puddles on the ground. A familiar scent pricked his nose.

Firestar.

Jaypaw gazed around, looking for the ThunderClan leader. But Firestar was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly a low mew echoed from the roots of a tree on the far side of the gully.

Pelt pricking with curiosity, Jaypaw padded toward the sound and saw, among the great black arching roots, the shadow of an opening. Firestar’s moonlit form was silhouetted against the dark entrance. Jaypaw ducked down behind a thick root.

“I will not fail!” Firestar was meowing.

What was he doing here? Who was he talking to? Jaypaw peered over the root. He could just make out the shape of an aged tomcat sitting in the shadows beneath the tree.

“Sometimes the destiny of one cat is not the destiny of the whole Clan,” the old cat rasped.

Firestar’s mind clouded with confusion; Jaypaw felt it like mist. The ThunderClan leader’s breathing quickened as the tom spoke again, his voice suddenly smooth.

“There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.”

Blood pounded in Jaypaw’s ears. An image scorched his mind: he saw himself beside Lionpaw and Hollypaw, eyes gleaming and pelts rippling with strength. With a dreadful, ominous certainty, he knew what the old cat was trying to tell Firestar.

He, Hollypaw, and Lionpaw were the three cats in the prophecy.

Coldness reached through his pelt, setting his fur on end as it drove into his flesh. And at the same time, excitement surged through his paws. This was his destiny—and Firestar had known all along, but had chosen not to reveal it. Why? Because he was afraid of having three such powerful cats in his Clan?

Jaypaw stifled the purr that rose inside him, knowing he must not be seen by the other cats. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was blind, or that he couldn’t take part in the contest. None of that mattered in the face of this prophecy, that promised a greater destiny for him and his littermates than anything a cat had dreamed of before. Leafpool was right to be wary of him. All his Clanmates should be. And not just of him, but of Lionpaw and Hollypaw as well.

One day we will be so powerful that we shall command even StarClan!

Tigerstar

Clan: ShadowClan

Also known as: Tigerkit/Tigerpaw/Tigerclaw

Mother: Leopardfoot

Father: Pinestar

Mate: Goldenflower; Sasha

Kits: Bramblekit (later: Brambleclaw); Tawnykit (later: Tawnypelt, ShadowClan); Hawkkit (later: Hawkfrost, RiverClan); Mothkit (later: Mothwing; RiverClan); Tadpole

Defining Moment: See Tigerstar lose his nine lives at the paws of Scourge in . . .

“Cats of all Clans,” Firestar began, “and especially cats of BloodClan, you have no need to believe or disbelieve me. Tigerstar’s crimes speak for themselves. When he was still a warrior of ThunderClan, he murdered our deputy, Redtail, hoping to be made deputy himself. First Lionheart was chosen as deputy, but when that noble warrior died in a fight with ShadowClan, Tigerstar achieved his ambition at last.”

He paused; a grim silence gripped the whole clearing, broken only by a contemptuous rumble from Tigerstar. “Mew away, little kittypet. It won’t change anything.”

Firestar ignored him. “Being deputy wasn’t enough,” he went on. “Tigerstar wanted to be leader of the Clan. He set a trap for Bluestar by the Thunderpath, but my own apprentice strayed into it instead. That’s how Cinderpelt came by her crippled leg.”

A shocked murmur swept through the clearing. Except for BloodClan, they all knew Cinderpelt, and she was popular even with cats of other Clans.

“Then Tigerstar conspired with Brokentail, the former leader of ShadowClan, who was ThunderClan’s prisoner,” Firestar told the listening cats. “He brought a pack of rogues into ThunderClan camp, and tried to murder Bluestar with his own claws. I stopped him, and when ThunderClan had beaten off the attack we drove him into exile. As a rogue, he slaughtered yet another of our warriors, Runningwind. Then before we knew what he was up to, he had made himself leader of ShadowClan.”

Firestar paused and looked around him. He was not sure how BloodClan and their leader Scourge were taking all this, but he could see that he had the horrified attention of every other cat in the clearing. He steadied himself, wanting to be sure they heard the last, most dreadful part of his story.

“But Tigerstar still wanted revenge on ThunderClan. Three moons ago, a pack of dogs got loose in the forest. Tigerstar caught prey for them, then laid a trail of dead rabbits between the dogs’ lair and the ThunderClan camp to lead them to us. He murdered one of our queens, Brindleface, and left her near the camp to give the dogs a taste for cat blood. If we hadn’t found out in time to escape, the whole of ThunderClan would have been torn to pieces.”

“Good riddance,” Tigerstar growled.

“As it was,” Firestar forced himself to go on, “our leader, Bluestar, died the bravest death of any cat, saving me and all her Clan from the pack.”

He expected yowls of outrage, but only silence greeted him as his story came to an end. The eyes of every cat were fixed on him, stunned with shock.

Firestar glanced at Leopardstar, still standing with Blackfoot and Darkstripe a little way behind Tigerstar. The RiverClan leader looked horrified. For a few heartbeats Firestar hoped that she might immediately break her agreement with Tigerstar and withdraw her Clan from his leadership, but she remained silent.

“This is Tigerstar’s history,” Firestar meowed urgently, turning back to Scourge. “It all shows one thing—that he’ll do anything for power. If he promised you a share of the forest, don’t believe him. He won’t give up one pawprint, not to you or any cat.”

Scourge’s eyes narrowed; Firestar could see that he was thinking carefully about what he had heard, and hope flared inside him like a tiny flame. “Tigerstar told me what he was planning to do with the dogs when he visited me two moons ago.” The black cat turned his head so that his gaze rested on the leader of ShadowClan. “He did not tell me that his plan failed.”

“None of that matters now,” Tigerstar broke in roughly. “We have an agreement with you, Scourge. Fight beside me now, and you’ll have all I offered you.”

“My Clan and I fight when I choose,” Scourge meowed. To Firestar he added, “I will think about what you have said. There will be no battle today.”

Tigerstar’s fur bristled with rage and his tail lashed from side to side. His muscles bunched as he dropped into a crouch. “Traitor!” he screeched, and leaped at Scourge with claws extended.

Watching with horror, Firestar expected to see the smaller cat torn apart. He knew from bitter experience the strength in Tigerstar’s muscles. But Scourge whipped to one side, avoiding Tigerstar as he landed. When the massive tabby turned to face him, Scourge lashed out with his front paws. The pale leaf-bare sun glinted unnaturally on the tips of each talon. Firestar felt his blood run cold. Scourge’s claws were reinforced with long, sharpened dogs’ teeth.

One blow to his shoulder unbalanced Tigerstar. He fell on his side, exposing his belly, and Scourge’s vicious claws sank into his throat. Blood welled out as the smaller cat ripped him down to the tail with a single slash.

A desperate scream of fury erupted from Tigerstar, then broke off with a ghastly choking sound. His body convulsed, limbs jerking and tail flailing. For a heartbeat a stillness settled over him, and Firestar knew he was falling into the trance of a leader who loses a life, to wake after a little while restored to strength and with the rest of his lives intact.

But not even StarClan could heal this terrible wound. Scourge stood back and watched coldly as Tigerstar’s body convulsed again. The dark red blood kept on flowing, spreading across the ground in a ceaseless tide. Tigerstar let out another shriek; Firestar wanted to cover his ears so he didn’t have to listen anymore, but he was frozen to the spot.

Again the massive tabby’s body grew still for a heartbeat, but again the wound was too terrible to yield to the healing trance. Another spasm seized Tigerstar’s body. His claws tore up clumps of grass in his agony, while his screeches turned from fury to terror.

He’s dying nine times, Firestar realized. Oh, StarClan, no . . .

It was a death he would not have wished on any cat, not even Tigerstar, and he thought it would never be over.

Blackstar

Clan: ShadowClan

Also known as: Blackkit/Blackpaw/Blackfoot

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mate: None

Kits: None

Defining Moment: See Blackstar meet Sol for the first time in . . .

As he spoke, Russetfur appeared from Blackstar’s den and stood to one side to let her leader pass. Blackstar’s white pelt was unwashed. His long tail drooped behind him, and he padded across the clearing as though his soot-black paws were too heavy for him.

“Russetfur tells me there is a stranger among us,” he growled. He glanced at Hollypaw, Lionpaw, and Jaypaw. “She said you were showing him around our border.”

“We weren’t showing him anything!” Jaypaw mewed hotly. “We were on our way home.”

“Why were you there at all?” Blackstar sat down and looked at them. His eyes were strangely dull, considering he was the leader of a Clan who’d just been involved in a terrible battle.

Hollypaw stepped forward. “We went to find Sol.”

Blackstar looked at the stranger for the first time. “And this is Sol, I suppose.”

“It is.” Sol dipped his head. “I’m honored to meet the leader of ShadowClan.”

“You know about ShadowClan?” A glimmer of interest sparked in Blackstar’s eyes.

“I have heard much about you.”

Blackstar tilted his head. “From these three trespassers?”

“We never crossed your border!” Jaypaw growled. He stared toward Russetfur as though challenging her to deny it.

Lionpaw moved closer to his brother. “We were looking for Sol.”

“So you said. But why? He’s just a loner, isn’t he?”

“A traveler,” Sol corrected him.

Blackstar blinked. “Why would three apprentices be so interested in a traveler?”

Jaypaw flicked his tail. “Because he told us the sun was going to disappear and it did!”

Russetfur’s pelt bristled. Behind her, Ivytail and Toadfoot stared wide-eyed.

Tawnypelt shifted on her paws. “You knew it would happen?”

Sol nodded. “I saw a great darkness fall over the Clans.”

“Did StarClan tell you?” ShadowClan’s medicine cat, Littlecloud, had come out of his den and was staring at Sol.

Sol swung his head around to face the medicine cat. “The great darkness had nothing to do with StarClan.”

Silence gripped the camp as the setting sun turned the brambles to liquid amber.

“Then who made the sun disappear?” Blackstar growled.

Sol padded across the clearing and turned so that his tail swept a rainbow shape on the needle-strewn ground. “It was a sign.” He lifted his chin, the dark patches on his fur shining in the last rays of sunshine. Lean, hard muscles rippled under the thick-furred pelt on his shoulders. “A sign of change that will come whether you want it or not.”

Are we part of that change? Hollypaw glanced at Lionpaw, anxiety stirring in her belly. Lionpaw gave a small shake of his head. She understood.

Say nothing about the prophecy.

Blackstar padded toward Sol, his eyes gleaming. “What sort of change?”

“Do you want change?” Sol lowered his voice to barely a whisper.

Blackstar stepped closer. “I’m not sure the Clans should be here,” he confessed.

Hollypaw wondered if the ShadowClan leader had forgotten where he was. Should he be sharing his fears so openly?

But Blackstar’s eyes were brimming with hope as he gazed at Sol as though here was someone who finally understood. “Could StarClan have made a mistake by telling us to settle by the lake?”

Smokefoot shot an astonished glance at Ivytail, who shrugged. Littlecloud was leaning forward, as if he were finding it hard to hear—or finding it hard to believe what he was hearing.

Or perhaps he was simply waiting for Sol’s answer.

Hollypaw’s heart began to race. Were ShadowClan about to reject StarClan? And the warrior code?

“Change is not necessarily a bad thing,” Sol murmured.

Yes, it is! She dug her claws deep into the ground, desperate to root herself in something solid.

Sol’s voice chanted on, soft, yet loud enough to reach to the edges of the clearing. “Especially if we anticipate what’s coming and prepare for it.”

Blackstar was nodding as Sol continued. “There is more than one path to tread in this life.”

“There must be an easier one than this,” Blackstar agreed. “Life here is so hard. There is great hunger in leaf-bare, and in greenleaf the Twolegs drive us farther and farther from our hunting grounds.”

Sol closed his eyes as Blackstar went on, as if he were picturing Blackstar’s description of life in ShadowClan’s new home.

“We are plagued by battle after battle, and even the moonhigh trek to the Gatherings is longer and harder than in the forest.”

“You are greatly troubled,” Sol sympathized without opening his eyes.

“My troubles are endless,” Blackstar told him.

Tawnypelt stepped forward. “Night is falling,” she meowed briskly. “The ThunderClan apprentices should be on their way home.” She flashed a knowing look at Hollypaw. “Their Clanmates will be wondering where they are.”

She’s guessed we shouldn’t be out of camp. Hollypaw stared at her paws, feeling hot and guilty. And she doesn’t want us to hear what Blackstar is saying.

Blackstar turned from Sol, blinking as if he were surprised to find them still there. “Of course.” He beckoned Smokefoot and Ivytail with his tail. “Take them to the border.”

Lionpaw tipped his head to one side. “What about Sol?”

“I must stay here.” Sol’s answer was soft but firm. He gazed at the ShadowClan leader. “That is, if Blackstar will have me.”

Blackstar did not hesitate. “Of course!”

Hollypaw stared at him. “But he was coming with us!” They had so much to learn from him. He was going to be their mentor, not Blackstar’s. Why did a Clan leader need a mentor? Outrage shot through her. Sol knew about the prophecy! He promised he’d come with us!

Jaypaw stepped forward. “You promised—”

Lionpaw cut him off. “Let’s go, before we get into more trouble,” he hissed into Jaypaw’s ear.

“Kits!” Tawnypelt called to the nursery and Flamekit, Dawnkit, and Tigerkit charged out. “I promised you could say good-bye.”

Dawnkit held her muzzle up to Hollypaw, purring when Hollypaw ran her cheek along the top of her head. “Good-bye.”

Tigerkit arched his back and bounced toward Lionpaw. “Next time we meet, I’ll be even bigger!”

Flamekit approached Jaypaw a little cautiously. “Bye.”

Ivytail marched past, sweeping the kits out of the way. “Go play with your own Clanmates,” she growled.

As Hollypaw followed her escort through the tunnel, she glanced back into the clearing. Blackstar and Sol were sitting with their heads close together, talking too quietly to hear.

Onestar

Clan: WindClan

Also known as: Onekit/Onepaw/Onewhisker

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mate: Unknown

Kits: Unknown

Defining Moment: See Onewhisker receive the sign from StarClan that he should be WindClan’s leader in . . .

Brambleclaw splashed his way across to his Clan leader and the WindClan cats. Together they approached the tree. Brambleclaw froze when he spotted movement among the branches. He braced himself, ready to battle to the death if Mudclaw was still alive. Then the branches shifted and a tabby cat backed clumsily out, his hindpaws scrabbling for a grip on the pebbles. Brambleclaw blinked. It was Hawkfrost. His half brother had his teeth fixed in Mudclaw’s scruff as he dragged him into the open. The WindClan warrior’s head lolled at an awkward angle, and his limbs trailed limply upon the ground.

Hawkfrost dragged him up to Onewhisker and let the body fall at the Clan leader’s paws. “The tree crushed him,” he rasped. “Your leadership is safe.”

Onewhisker bent his head and sniffed at the former deputy. “The Clan will grieve for him,” he murmured. “He was a fine warrior once.”

Ashfoot let out a faint hiss. “He betrayed you!”

“As did you!” Onewhisker spat, rounding on Hawkfrost. “You helped him.” He unsheathed his claws, ready to spring on the massive tabby.

Hawkfrost bowed his head, and Brambleclaw felt his belly clench in horror at what Onewhisker might do in revenge.

“I admit it,” Hawkfrost meowed. “And I ask your forgiveness. I truly believed that Mudclaw was the rightful leader of WindClan, and because of that, at his request, I brought cats from RiverClan and ShadowClan to help him. But StarClan has given us a clear sign by sending the lightning to destroy Mudclaw. Onewhisker, you are WindClan’s true leader, chosen by StarClan. Do with me what you will.”

Onewhisker glanced at Firestar, but the ThunderClan leader just flicked his ears, indicating that this was Onewhisker’s problem to solve. Brambleclaw looked closely at Firestar, trying to read his reaction to the news that StarClan approved of Onewhisker’s leadership after all. But Firestar’s expression gave nothing away.

Meanwhile Ashfoot padded forward to investigate the branches of the fallen tree. “Hawkfrost is right, Onewhisker. You couldn’t hope for a better sign than this. StarClan sent lightning to strike the tree and kill the cat who would have taken your place. There’s no doubt now that you’re the cat StarClan has chosen to lead WindClan.”

Onewhisker raised his head, light growing in his eyes. “Then I shall be honored to accept my nine lives.” Turning back to Hawkfrost, he went on, “I can’t blame you for having doubts, nor any of the other cats who supported Mudclaw. How can I, when I doubted myself? I forgive you freely, you and all the rest.”

Leopardstar

Clan: RiverClan

Also known as: Leopardkit/Leopardpaw/Leopardfur

Mother: Brightsky

Father: Mudfur

Mate: Unknown

Kits: n/a

Defining Moment: See Leopardstar defend herself for forming an alliance with Tigerstar in . . .

A Deadly Alliance

How dare you judge me? Have you been leader of a Clan? Have you had the fate of so many cats in your paws? Have you faced fire, flood, poison, starvation, predators, and Twolegs, all within a few short seasons? Kits and elders were dying under my watch. And I was supposed to sit back and let it all happen?

I am a great leader. I make tough decisions and stick to them. I discipline bad behavior with fair, strict punishment. My warriors respect me and would follow me to the end of the river if I told them to.

And I recognize strength when I see it. Tell me this—why is it all right for Crookedstar to accept help from those bleeding-heart ThunderClan warriors, but wrong for RiverClan to ally itself with Tigerstar? He has a plan for the forest—a vision for all the Clans! If you met him, you’d understand. He knows how we have suffered and how to save us. WindClan and ThunderClan will join us soon, I am sure.

As one Clan, we will rule the forest. No cat will go hungry. There will always be prey somewhere—in the river, in the woods, or on the moors—and all cats will benefit.

Why waste our energy fighting one another when our common enemies are dogs, badgers, and Twolegs? With the combined strength of all our warriors, perhaps we could fight back against the Twoleg monsters! Think of what we could accomplish! Think of how powerful we would be!

Tigerstar believes in TigerClan so strongly. I can see the future spreading out before us as he talks. If I join him now, he and I will be joint leaders. Tallstar and Firestar will have to follow us. I know that Tigerstar is in charge now, but this was his idea. Once everything is settled, he will listen to me.

And if TigerClan is inevitable, as I believe it is, I would rather be the second-strongest cat in the whole forest than cast out of the Clan to wander alone. Tigerstar has been there. He knows what it is to be weak and alone. He told me about it, and I never want to be that cat.

The only thing that makes me nervous is the way he keeps talking about half-Clan cats. I had no idea that Stonefur was half ThunderClan when I made him my deputy. Neither did he, in fact. But now we know he is, he and his sister, Mistyfoot. And half-Clan cats cannot be trusted, Tigerstar says.

He has a point—remember what happened with Graystripe? I always suspected he was spying on us, waiting for a chance to tell ThunderClan our secrets. He betrayed us in the end. Divided loyalties are not what TigerClan needs if we want to survive all the troubles facing us.

I don’t know what Tigerstar plans to do with our half-Clan cats, but I know something must be done. For now, I’ve allowed him to leave a few ShadowClan warriors in our camp to protect us. They’re not like RiverClan cats. They’re building a hill of prey bones down by the riverbank. It gives me nightmares. . . .

Maps of the Lake Territories

ThunderClan Lake Territory

1. ThunderClan camp: This symmetrical stone hollow, enclosed by towering cliffs of sheer stone left behind by Twolegs, was the obvious choice for ThunderClan’s new camp.

2. Twoleg paths: Twolegs mark their paths with shiny blue markers!

3. Abandoned Twoleg nest: A good place for prey and an excellent source of herbs. It has an ominous, empty feeling and seems ready to fall down at any moment.

4. Ancient Oak: In an old rabbit burrow below the twisting roots, Brambleclaw, Mistyfoot, Crowfeather, Tawnypelt, and Squirrelpaw sheltered on their first trip around the lake, scouting for new Clan territories and camps. Also known as Sky Oak.

WindClan Lake Territory

1. Moonpool stream: This tumbling stream leads along the edge of the WindClan border and up into the hills to the Moonpool.

2. WindClan camp: A shallow scoop in the ground, open to the sky. Unlike other cats, WindClan warriors prefer to sleep out in the open; in really bad weather, they retreat into underground burrows left by foxes and badgers.

3. Horseplace: Hear that thundering? It’s the pounding of horses’ hooves! Stay on this side of the fence!

RiverClan Lake Territory

1. RiverClan camp: Safely tucked away on a triangle of land between two streams, this camp is well sheltered from weather and enemy attack, with easy access to a constant source of prey.

2. Greenleaf Twolegplace: A bees’ nest of Twoleg activity during greenleaf! Twoleg kits jump into the lake with loud splashes and shrieks. Some of them can swim like RiverClan cats but more noisily.

3. Halfbridge: A most peculiar bridge that ends halfway out in the water. It doesn’t seem to go anywhere! Twolegs tie their “boats” to it.

ShadowClan Lake Territory

1. ShadowClan camp: Much closer to Twolegs than forest home, but the camp is still well hidden and should be difficult for enemies to attack.

2. Twoleg nest: Home to two aggressive kittypets. Don’t let them catch you out alone, or you’re kittypet food!

3. Twoleg path: Steer clear of these during greenleaf. Twolegs tramp up and down these paths all season long!

4. Greenleaf Twolegplace: Another place haunted throughout greenleaf by Twolegs, who put up small dens and build terrifying little fires here. On the plus side, sometimes they leave behind food like we used to find at Carrionplace.

After Sunset: The Right Choice?

Leafpool emerged from the trees and padded up the slope to the place where she could look out over the whole lake. She had left Brightheart watching Firestar while he slept; the ThunderClan leader hadn’t lost a life in the fox trap, but his neck was bruised and he wouldn’t be able to eat or speak for a while. Leafpool shuddered, remembering the sight of him lying so still with the trap clutched around his neck and a trail of blood leading away from his body—all the way down to the lake, where Hawkfrost lay half in, half out of the water with scarlet waves lapping at his fur.

Before there is peace, blood will spill blood. . . .

The prophecy had come true: Brambleclaw had killed his half-brother, Hawkfrost, to save Firestar. Leafpool shook her head. StarClan may have sent her a dream of brambles with claws protectively circling the hollow, but she had felt nothing but fear when she heard Firestar name Brambleclaw as his deputy. And her first thought when she saw Firestar’s body slumped beside the trap was: Brambleclaw did this.

She reached the top of the hill and stopped dead in surprise. A cat was sitting with his back to her, his head lowered and his shoulders hunched as if the lake was painful to look at.

“Brambleclaw?”

Brambleclaw’s head shot up and he looked around. “Leafpool. I didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice was flat and his amber eyes were clouded.

“I . . . I often come up here to admire the lake,” Leafpool meowed. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she told herself to stop being such a mouse-brain: Brambleclaw had killed his own kin to save Firestar. There was no reason to be scared of him.

Brambleclaw stood up. “I won’t disturb you. Squirrelflight is probably wondering where I am anyway.”

“No, stay,” Leafpool told him. “There’s plenty of room.” She swept her tail to indicate the open stretch of grass that turned into WindClan territory where the ground began to slope down before rising up again to a longer, flatter ridge.

Brambleclaw nodded and sat down. Almost at once his shoulders hunched and he closed his eyes.

“Is everything all right?” Leafpool questioned. She couldn’t ignore how dejected he looked. “Is it Hawkfrost?” It made sense that Brambleclaw would grieve for his kin, no matter how he had died.

“No,” Brambleclaw meowed without looking up. “It’s me.”

Leafpool sat down, easing her growing belly to one side until she was comfortable. Oh, my precious kits, what will happen when you arrive? She pushed the thought away; there was time enough to worry about that.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she told Brambleclaw. “I’m your medicine cat. It goes with the job.”

“But if you weren’t medicine cat, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me, would you?” Brambleclaw flashed back at her. “Admit it, Leafpool, you don’t trust me any more than the rest of ThunderClan, and you wish Firestar had never made me deputy.”

Leafpool bristled. “If you recall, it was my dream from StarClan that reassured Firestar you were the right choice!”

Glowing amber eyes burned into hers. “I bet you wish you’d never closed your eyes.”

Leafpool took a deep breath. “I don’t have to trust you, Brambleclaw. StarClan approves of you, and my sister loves you. I just hope you don’t do anything to let either of them down.”

Brambleclaw looked at the ground again. “Then what about today? That was all my fault.”

“What?” Leafpool was shocked. “How can you say that? You saved Firestar!”

“I had to kill my own brother. My first day as Clan deputy, and I had to take another cat’s life. What kind of beginning is that?”

“An unlucky one,” Leafpool conceded. “But you’re a hero in the eyes of the Clan now.”

Brambleclaw raised his gaze to her. “Really? Or do they think I’m bad luck because I haven’t had an apprentice?”

Leafpool flinched. Brambleclaw was right: Many cats were anxious that Firestar had gone against the warrior code by appointing a deputy who hadn’t been a mentor. And she shared their fears. Was today’s violence and bloodshed a warning that the code should not have been broken? But if StarClan didn’t approve, why send her the sign that sealed Brambleclaw as Firestar’s choice? She shook her head, trying to clear it.

“I can try as hard as I like, but I’ll never do anything right,” Brambleclaw growled, and Leafpool was startled by the bitterness in his voice. “I will bring nothing but trouble to ThunderClan because I was made deputy when I shouldn’t have been. My Clanmates didn’t trust me before. Now they will blame me for everything that goes wrong, every drop of blood that is lost. Whatever I do, I will destroy my own Clan from within.”

The blood roared in Leafpool’s ears, and her eyes were dazzled by the red glow of the setting sun as it turned the lake crimson. Brambleclaw’s words didn’t sound like a threat: They sounded like a prophecy.

Take a sneak peek at

Chapter 1

Dovepaw slid out through the thorn tunnel and stood waiting in the forest for her sister, Ivypaw, and their mentors to join her. A hard frost had turned every blade of grass into a sharp spike under her paws, and from the bare branches of the trees, icicles glimmered in the gray dawn light. Dovepaw shivered as claws of cold probed deeply into her fur. Newleaf was still a long way off.

Dovepaw’s belly was churning with anxiety, and her tail drooped.

This is your warrior assessment, she told herself. It’s the best thing that can happen to an apprentice. So why don’t you feel excited?

She knew the answer to her question. Too much had happened during the moons of her apprenticeship: important events beside which even the thrill of becoming a warrior paled into insignificance. Taking a deep breath, Dovepaw lifted her tail as she heard the paw steps of cats coming through the tunnel. She couldn’t let the cats who were assessing her see how uneasy she was. She needed to do her best to show them that she was ready to be a warrior.

Dovepaw’s mentor, Lionblaze, was the first cat to emerge, fluffing his golden tabby pelt against the early morning chill. Spiderleg followed him closely; Dovepaw gave the skinny black warrior a dubious glance, wondering what it would be like to have him assessing her as well as Lionblaze. Spiderleg looked very stern.

I wish it were just Lionblaze, Dovepaw thought. Too bad Firestar decided that we should have two judges.

Cinderheart appeared next, followed closely by her apprentice, Ivypaw, and last of all Millie, who was to be Ivypaw’s second assessor. Dovepaw’s whiskers quivered as she looked at her sister. Ivypaw looked small and scared, and her dark blue eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.

Padding closer, Dovepaw gave Ivypaw’s ear an affectionate lick. “Hey, you’ll be fine,” she murmured.

Ivypaw turned her head away.

She doesn’t even talk to me anymore, Dovepaw thought wretchedly. She’s always busy somewhere else when I try to get close to her. And she cries out in her dreams. Dovepaw pictured how her sister twitched and batted her paws when they were sleeping side by side in the apprentices’ den. She knew that Ivypaw was visiting the Dark Forest, spying on behalf of ThunderClan because Jayfeather and Lionblaze had asked her to, but when she tried to ask her sister what happened there, Ivypaw replied only that there was nothing new to report.

“I suggest we head for the abandoned Twoleg nest,” Spiderleg announced. “It’s sheltered, so there’s a good chance of prey.”

Lionblaze blinked as if he was surprised that Spiderleg was trying to take over the assessment, but then nodded and led the way through the trees in the direction of the old Twoleg path. Dovepaw quickened her pace to pad beside him, and the other cats followed.

“Are you ready?” Lionblaze asked.

Dovepaw jumped, startled out of her worries about her sister. “Sorry,” she mewed. “I was thinking about Ivypaw. She looks so tired.”

Lionblaze glanced back at the silver-and-white she-cat, then at Dovepaw, shock and anxiety mingling in his amber eyes. “I guess the Dark Forest training is taking its toll,” he muttered.

“And whose fault is that?” Dovepaw flashed back at him. However urgent it was to find out what the cats of the Dark Forest were plotting, it wasn’t fair of Lionblaze and Jayfeather to put the whole burden on her sister’s shoulders.

Ivypaw isn’t even a warrior yet!

Lionblaze let out a sigh that told Dovepaw he agreed with her privately, but wasn’t prepared to say so. “I’m not going to talk about that now,” he meowed. “It’s time for you to concentrate on your assessment.”

Dovepaw gave an irritable shrug.

Lionblaze halted as the old Twoleg nest came into sight. Dovepaw picked up traces of herb scent from Jayfeather’s garden, though most of the stems and leaves were blackened by frost. She could hear the faint scutterings of prey in the grass and in the debris under the trees. Spiderleg was right: This would be a good spot to hunt.

“Okay,” Lionblaze began. “First we want to assess your tracking skills. Cinderheart, what do you want Ivypaw to catch?”

“We’ll go for mice. Okay, Ivypaw?”

The silver tabby gave a tense nod.

“But not inside the old Twoleg nest,” Millie added. “That would be too easy.”

“I know.” Dovepaw thought her sister sounded too weary to put one paw in front of another, let alone catch mice. But she headed off into the trees without hesitating; Cinderheart and Millie followed at a distance.

Dovepaw watched until the frostbitten bracken hid Ivypaw from her sight, then sent out her extended senses to track her as she padded behind the abandoned nest toward the group of pine trees. Mice were squeaking and scuffling among the fallen needles; Dovepaw hoped that her sister would scent them and make a good catch.

She was concentrating so hard on following Ivypaw that she forgot about her own assessment until Spiderleg flicked his tail-tip over her ear.

“Hey!” she meowed, spinning around to face the black warrior.

“Lionblaze said he’d like you to try for a squirrel,” Spiderleg meowed. “If you’re sure you want to become a warrior, that is.”

“I’m sure,” Dovepaw growled. “Sorry, Lionblaze.”

Lionblaze was standing just behind Spiderleg, looking annoyed. Dovepaw was angry with herself for missing his order, but even more with Spiderleg for being so obnoxious about it.

It’s mouse-brained to have two judges, she grumbled to herself. Mentors have been assessing their own apprentices for more seasons than there are leaves on the trees!

Raising her head, she tasted the air and brightened when she picked up a nearby scent of squirrel. It was coming from the other side of a clump of bramble; setting her paws down lightly, Dovepaw skirted the thorns until she came out into a small clearing and spotted the squirrel nibbling a nut at the foot of an ivy-covered oak tree.

A wind was rising, rattling the bare branches. Dovepaw slid around the edge of the clearing, using the bracken for cover, until she was downwind of her prey. Its scent flooded strongly over her, making her jaws water.

Dropping into her best hunter’s crouch, Dovepaw began to creep up on the squirrel. But she couldn’t resist sending out her senses just once more to check on Ivypaw, and she jumped as she picked up the tiny shriek, quickly cut off, of a mouse under her sister’s claws.

Her uncontrolled movement rustled a dead leaf, and instantly the squirrel fled up the tree, its bushy tail flowing out behind it. Dovepaw bounded across the grass and hurled herself up the trunk, but the squirrel had vanished into the branches. She clung to an ivy stem, trying to listen for movement beyond the wind and the creaking of the tree, but it was no use.

“Mouse dung!” she spat, letting herself drop to the ground again.

Spiderleg stalked up to her. “For StarClan’s sake, what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “A kit just out of the nursery could have caught that squirrel! It’s a good thing none of the other Clans saw you, or they’d think ThunderClan doesn’t know how to train its apprentices.”

Dovepaw’s neck fur bristled. “Have you never missed a catch?” she muttered under her breath.

“Well?” the black warrior demanded. “Let’s hear what you did wrong.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Lionblaze put in before Dovepaw could answer. “That was good stalking work, when you moved downwind of the squirrel.”

Dovepaw flashed him a grateful look. “I guess I got distracted for a heartbeat,” she admitted. “I moved a leaf, and the squirrel heard me.”

“And you could have been faster chasing it,” Spiderleg told her. “You might have caught it if you’d put on a bit more speed.”

Dovepaw nodded glumly. We haven’t all got legs as long as yours! “Does this mean I’ve failed my assessment?”

Spiderleg flicked his ears but didn’t answer. “I’m going to see how Millie is getting on with Ivypaw,” he announced, darting off toward the abandoned nest.

Dovepaw gazed at her mentor. “Sorry,” she meowed.

“I guess you must be nervous,” Lionblaze responded. “You’re much better than that on an ordinary hunting patrol.”

Now that she was facing failure, Dovepaw realized just how much she wanted to pass her assessment. Being a warrior is way better than being part of the prophecy with my so-called special powers. She tensed as another thought struck her. What if Ivypaw is made a warrior and I’m not?

Her sister deserved it, Dovepaw knew. She didn’t have any special powers of her own, but every night she put herself in danger to spy for Lionblaze and Jayfeather in the Dark Forest.

Ivypaw’s better than me. I can’t even catch a stupid squirrel!

“Cheer up,” Lionblaze meowed. “Your assessment isn’t over yet. But for StarClan’s sake, concentrate!”

“I’ll do my best,” Dovepaw promised. “What’s next?”

In answer, Lionblaze angled his ears in the direction they had come from. Dovepaw turned to see Icecloud picking her way across the frosty grass.

“Hi,” the white she-cat mewed. “Brambleclaw sent me to help you.”

“You’re just in time.” Lionblaze dipped his head. “The next part of the assessment is hunting with a partner,” he explained to Dovepaw.

Dovepaw brightened up; she enjoyed hunting as part of a team, and Icecloud would be easy to work with. But she was disconcerted when Icecloud looked at her with her head cocked to one side and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“I . . . er . . .” Dovepaw wasn’t used to giving orders to a warrior. Come on, mouse-brain! Shape up!

“Let’s try for a blackbird,” she suggested. “Icecloud, your white pelt is going to be a problem, though.”

“Tell me about it,” the white she-cat mewed ruefully.

“So we’ll have to find somewhere you can stay in cover until the last moment. When we find a bird, I’ll stalk it and try to drive it toward you.”

“You’ll need to make sure it doesn’t fly off, or—”

Lionblaze interrupted Icecloud’s warning with a meaningful cough.

“Oops, sorry,” Icecloud mewed. “I forgot. Go on, Dovepaw.”

“Blackbirds often nest just beyond the old Twoleg den,” Dovepaw went on after a moment’s thought. “I know it’s too early for them to be nesting, but it might be worth scouting there for good places.”

Lionblaze nodded encouragingly. “Then what?”

“Well . . . the ground slopes away there. Icecloud could take cover down the slope.”

“Okay, let’s see you do it,” Lionblaze meowed.

Dovepaw had taken only a few paw steps when Spiderleg reappeared, shouldering his way through the bracken. He said nothing; Dovepaw’s paws itched with curiosity to find out how her sister was getting on, but there was no time to ask. It felt weird to be padding a pace or two ahead of Icecloud, as if she was leading a patrol, and weirder still to be the one who was making the decisions. Panic pricked at Dovepaw, like ants crawling through her pelt. Her head felt as empty as an echoing cave, as if everything she had ever learned had flown away like birds from a branch.

I’ve spent more time eavesdropping on other Clans than training to be a warrior!

Dovepaw wanted to finish her assessment without using her special powers. Ivypaw doesn’t have them, so it’s only fair. But it was hard to switch her senses off when she was constantly wondering what her sister was up to. Besides, when she tried to focus on the sounds that were closest to her, she felt trapped and smothered by the trees.

How do the other cats cope? she wondered. I can hardly catch my breath!

Dovepaw led the way up the old Thunderpath, then struck off into the trees where the blackbirds nested. Icecloud followed her closely, while Lionblaze and Spiderleg hung back, observing. Sliding into a hazel thicket, Dovepaw raised her tail to warn Icecloud to keep back, where her white pelt wouldn’t alert any possible prey. Her paws tingled with satisfaction when she spotted a blackbird, pecking at the ground underneath a hazel bush.

Dovepaw drew back. “Go that way, down the slope,” she whispered to Icecloud, signaling with her tail. “I’ll scare the bird and send it in your direction.”

Icecloud nodded and crept away, silent as a wisp of white mist. Dovepaw watched her until she was out of sight; without meaning to, she extended her senses to track the white she-cat even after she disappeared. Puzzled, she realized that Icecloud’s paws sounded different on the ground.

Something isn’t right.

Instead of stalking the blackbird, Dovepaw pushed her way through the thick hazel stems, heading after her Clanmate. Spiderleg let out a disapproving snort. Dovepaw barely noticed; Icecloud’s paws were thundering inside her head, blotting out everything else.

I shouldn’t be able to hear them like that. It’s as if they’re echoing a long way underground. Suddenly Dovepaw understood. Oh, no! The ground must be hollow!

She quickened her pace, thrusting her way out of the thicket and racing down the slope. The blackbird fluttered up into the branches.

“What in the name of StarClan—?” Spiderleg gasped.

Dovepaw heard an awkward mutter from Lionblaze as she streaked away. She burst through a tangle of brambles and spotted Icecloud farther down the slope. At that moment, Icecloud staggered with a screech of alarm, then began to disappear as the ground opened up underneath her paws.

“Icecloud!” Dovepaw yowled. “I’m coming!”

She leaped forward just in time to grab Icecloud’s scruff in her teeth before the white she-cat disappeared in a rain of loose earth. Icecloud scrabbled frantically with her forepaws, trying to haul herself out. But it seemed as if the whole slope was giving way, and there was nothing solid to hold on to.

Dovepaw tried to drag her Clanmate out, but the ground was sliding away under her paws as well, and Icecloud’s weight dangling down into the hole was too much for her. Icecloud’s scruff slipped from between her teeth. Dovepaw stared in horror as she watched the white warrior fall down and down into the darkness. Icecloud’s terrified wail was cut off as loose earth poured in to bury her.

Firestar is sent on a perilous mission in

Chapter 1

Firestar slid around the edge of a hazel thicket and paused to taste the air. The moon was nearly full, and he could see that he was close to where the stream followed the border with ShadowClan. He could hear its faint gurgling, and picked up traces of the ShadowClan scent markers.

The flame-colored tomcat allowed himself a soft purr of satisfaction. He had been leader of ThunderClan for three seasons, and he felt as if he knew every tree, every bramble bush, every tiny path left by mice and voles throughout his territory. Since the fearsome battle when the forest Clans had joined together to drive out BloodClan and their murderous leader, Scourge, there had been peace, and the long days of newleaf and greenleaf had brought plentiful prey.

But Firestar knew that somewhere in the tranquil night an attacker was lurking. He made himself concentrate, all his senses alert. He caught the scent of mouse and rabbit, the green scent of grass and leaves, and very faintly the reek of the distant Thunderpath. But there was something else. Something he couldn’t identify.

He raised his head, drawing the breeze over his scent glands. At the same instant, a clump of bracken waved wildly, and a dark shape erupted from the middle of the curling fronds. Startled, Firestar spun to face it, but before he could raise his paws to defend himself the shape landed heavily on his shoulders, knocking him to the ground.

Summoning all his strength, Firestar rolled onto his back and brought up his hind paws to thrust his attacker away. Above him he could make out broad, muscular shoulders, a massive head with dark tabby markings, the glint of amber eyes. . . .

Firestar gritted his teeth and battered even harder with his hind paws. A forepaw lashed out toward him and he flinched, waiting for the strike.

Suddenly the weight that pinned him down vanished as the tabby cat sprang away with a yowl of triumph. “You didn’t know I was there, did you?” he meowed. “Go on, Firestar, admit it. You had no idea.”

Firestar staggered to his paws, shaking grass seeds and scraps of moss from his pelt. “Bramblepaw, you great lump! You’ve squashed me as flat as a leaf.”

“I know.” Bramblepaw’s eyes gleamed. “If you’d really been a ShadowClan invader, you would be crow-food by now.”

“So I would.” Firestar touched his apprentice on the shoulder with the tip of his tail. “You did very well, especially disguising your scent like that.”

“I rolled in a clump of damp ferns as soon as I left camp,” Bramblepaw explained. He suddenly looked anxious. “Was my assessment okay, Firestar?”

Firestar hesitated, struggling to push away the memory of Bramblepaw’s bloodthirsty father, Tigerstar. When he looked at the young apprentice, it was too easy to recall the same broad shoulders, dark tabby fur, and amber eyes that belonged to the cat who had been ready to murder and betray his own Clanmates to make himself leader.

“Firestar?” Bramblepaw prompted.

Firestar shook off the clinging cobwebs of the past. “Yes, Bramblepaw, of course. No cat could have done better.”

“Thanks, Firestar!” Bramblepaw’s amber eyes shone and his tail went straight up in the air. As they turned toward the ThunderClan camp, he glanced back at the ShadowClan border. “Do you think Tawnypaw will be near the end of her apprentice training, too?”

Bramblepaw’s sister, Tawnypaw, had been born in ThunderClan, but she had never felt at home there. She was too sensitive to the mistrust of cats who couldn’t forget that she was Tigerstar’s daughter. When her father had become leader of ShadowClan, she had left ThunderClan to be with him. Firestar always felt that he had failed her, and he knew how much Bramblepaw missed her.

“I don’t know how they do these things in ShadowClan,” he meowed carefully, “but Tawnypaw started her training at the same time as you, so she should be ready for her warrior ceremony by now.”

“I hope so,” Bramblepaw mewed. “I know she’ll be a great warrior.”

“You both will,” Firestar told him.

On their way back to camp, Firestar felt as if every shadowy hollow, every clump of fern or bramble thicket, could be hiding the gleam of amber eyes. Whatever Tigerstar’s crimes, he had been proud of his son and daughter, and his death had been particularly dreadful, with all nine lives ripped away at once by Scourge’s sharpened claws. Was the massive tabby watching them now? Not from StarClan, for Firestar had never seen him in his dreams; the ThunderClan medicine cat, Cinderpelt, had never reported meeting him when she shared tongues with StarClan, either. Could there be another place for coldhearted cats who had been ready to use the warrior code for their own dark ambitions? If there was such a shadowed path, Firestar hoped he would never have to walk it—nor his lively apprentice. Bramblepaw was bouncing through the grass beside him, excited as a kit; surely he had shaken off the legacy of his father?

As they slipped down the ravine toward the camp, Bramblepaw halted, his gaze serious. “Was my assessment really okay? Am I good enough—”

“To be a warrior?” Firestar guessed. “Yes, you are. We’ll hold your ceremony tomorrow.”

Bramblepaw dipped his head respectfully. “Thank you, Firestar,” he mewed. “I won’t let you down.” His eyes blazed; he gave a sudden bound into the air and pelted down the rest of the ravine to wait by the entrance to the gorse tunnel. Firestar watched him, amused. He could still remember when he had felt as if he had too much energy to contain in his four paws, when he felt as if he could run through the forest forever.

“You’d better get some sleep,” he warned as he joined his apprentice. “You’ll have to sit vigil tomorrow night.”

“If you’re sure, Firestar . . .” Bramblepaw hesitated, working his claws in the sandy ground. “I could find you some fresh-kill first.”

“No, go on,” his leader told him. “You’re so excited right now you wouldn’t notice if a fox ate you.”

Bramblepaw waved his tail and bundled through the gorse tunnel into the camp.

Firestar lingered outside the camp for a while, settling down on a flat rock with his tail curled around his paws. He could hear nothing but the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the tiny scufflings of prey in the undergrowth.

The battle with BloodClan had cast its shadow over all the Clans; for more than a season after, every cat in the forest jumped at a cracking twig, and chased out strangers as if their lives depended on it. They were even scared of going too close to Twolegplace, in case any surviving members of BloodClan happened to be lurking there. But now, five moons later, ThunderClan was thriving. Tomorrow there would be a new warrior, and the apprentices Rainpaw, Sootpaw, and Sorrelpaw were all doing well after three moons of training. In time, they would be good warriors too—they were bound to be, considering who their father was. Every day they reminded Firestar of his first deputy, Whitestorm, who had died battling the vicious BloodClan deputy, Bone. He still grieved for the old white warrior.

His mind wrapped in memories of his old friend, it was a moment before Firestar realized he could hear a faint sound: the footfalls of a cat stepping lightly through the undergrowth. He sprang to his paws, looking around, but he saw nothing.

He hardly had time to sit down before the noise came again. This time Firestar whipped his head around in time to glimpse the pale shape of a cat standing a little farther up the ravine.

Am I dreaming? Has Whitestorm left StarClan to come and visit me?

But this cat was smaller than Whitestorm and its fur was gray, patched with white. It stared straight at him, its eyes dark and earnest, as if it were trying to tell him something. Firestar had never seen it before. Could it be a rogue? Or worse—could 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 couldn’t find it. There weren’t 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.

Chapter 2

While he still waited to see if the cat would return, clouds massed above Firestar’s 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.

“Spottedleaf?” he called into the mist. “Are you here? Does StarClan have a message for me?”

But there was no sign of the beautiful tortoiseshell who had once been ThunderClan’s medicine cat. She often visited Firestar in dreams, but now he couldn’t pick up even a trace of her sweet scent.

Instead, he heard the faintest sound, so distant that he couldn’t 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.

“Who are you?” he called. “What do you want?”

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.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You were twitching in your sleep.”

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. “It was just a dream,” he muttered. “I’ll be fine.”

“Look, I brought you some fresh-kill.” She pushed the limp body of a vole toward him. “I just got back from a hunting patrol.”

“Thanks.” 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.

“Better now?” Sandstorm inquired with a glint of mischief in her green eyes. “That’ll teach you to let young cats jump all over you.”

Firestar flicked her ear with the tip of his tail; word of Bramblepaw’s successful assessment had obviously spread through the camp. “Hey, I’m not an elder yet, you know.” The damp shadows of his dream were melting away in the bright sunlight. He stepped out of his nest and gave himself a quick grooming. “Do you know if all the patrols are back yet?”

“The last ones just came in.” A shadow fell across the entrance of the den, and Firestar looked up to see his deputy, Graystripe, standing just outside. “The hunting patrols caught so much prey, Thornclaw has taken the apprentices out to collect it. Why, did you want them?”

“Not right away, but I need to know what they reported,” Firestar replied. He beckoned the gray warrior inside with his tail. Remembering the unfamiliar cat he had seen in the ravine the night before, he asked warily, “Did any of them see any sign of rogues in our territory?”

Graystripe shook his head. “Not a trace. Everything’s peaceful out there.” His yellow eyes narrowed with concern. “Firestar, is something bothering you?”

Firestar hesitated. His old friend knew him well enough to tell when something was on his mind. But he didn’t think this was the time to share his dream or the vision of the cat in the ravine. He had so little to go on; his solitary brooding on Tigerstar and Whitestorm could have made him see things in the shadows.

“No, I’m fine,” he replied, pushing the strange gray cat to the back of his mind. “Bramblepaw did an amazing assessment last night. He jumped on me by the ShadowClan border. Come on,” he meowed to Graystripe and Sandstorm. “I want to hold his warrior ceremony as soon as the apprentices get back.”

He led the way out of his den and leaped onto the Highrock. The rain had stopped; above the trees the sky was blue, with scudding white clouds. Sunlight reflected from puddles, dazzling his eyes, and the barrier of thorns around the camp sparkled with raindrops. Thornclaw was emerging from the gorse tunnel with his apprentice, Sootpaw, behind him, both cats laden with fresh-kill. Moments later Cloudtail appeared with Rainpaw and Sorrelpaw.

Firestar let out a yowl. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

Pride surged through him as he watched his Clan collect below the rock. The three youngest apprentices dashed over from the fresh-kill pile to sit near the base of the Highrock. They chattered excitedly, maybe imagining what it would be like when they became warriors too. Speckletail led the other elders from their den beside the burned-out shell of the fallen tree. Cinderpelt the medicine cat appeared from the fern tunnel that led to her den and limped across to sit beside Brackenfur, Willowpelt, and Mousefur.

Firestar spotted Brightheart emerging from the nursery. As an apprentice, she had been injured by a pack of dogs, leaving one side of her face torn away. Now, with her belly swollen with the kits she would bear soon, Firestar thought she had never looked happier. She padded slowly across the clearing to join her mate, Cloudtail, near the fresh-kill pile; the white warrior touched her ear affectionately with his nose.

Behind her came Ferncloud with her two kits, who dashed off with squeals of excitement toward the nearest puddle.

“Shrewkit! Spiderkit! Come back at once,” Ferncloud scolded them.

The two kits sat down at the edge of the water, but they kept shooting glances at their mother and dabbing the surface with an outstretched paw. Firestar watched, amused, as their father, Dustpelt, padded over to them, said something sternly to them, then went to sit by Ferncloud. Barely a heartbeat passed before a tiny paw flashed out again.

“Spiderkit!” Dustpelt called, loud enough for Firestar to hear him. “What did I just tell you?”

Both kits glanced at their father and then went scampering off, tiny tails stuck high in the air. Soon Shrewkit found a ball of sodden moss lying on the ground. Hooking it up with one paw he tossed it at his brother; Spiderkit ducked, and the moss sailed over his head and struck Speckletail right in the chest. The tabby elder sprang to her paws, batting at soaking chest fur with one paw, and letting out a furious hiss. Though Speckletail could be cranky, Firestar knew she would never harm a kit, but Spiderkit and Shrewkit weren’t sure of that. They flattened themselves to the ground and crept backward to sit beside their mother and father.

Firestar had missed the moment when Bramblepaw emerged from the apprentice’s den. Now he was approaching the base of the rock; as Firestar was his mentor, he was escorted to his warrior ceremony by Graystripe, the Clan deputy, instead. His brown tabby pelt was groomed to shining sleekness, and his amber eyes looked solemnly up at his leader.

Firestar leaped down from the Highrock to meet him. Close to him, he could see that Bramblepaw’s serious expression hid an almost unbearable excitement. He realized how much this ceremony meant to his apprentice; had Bramblepaw sometimes doubted that he would ever be accepted into ThunderClan as a full warrior?

Firestar summoned up the words that had been spoken to every apprentice in the forest for season upon season. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” Meeting Bramblepaw’s gaze, he went on. “Bramblepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do.” No cat could doubt how much Bramblepaw meant it.

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Firestar continued, “I give you your warrior name: Bramblepaw, from this moment you will be known as Brambleclaw. StarClan honors your courage and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened as Firestar spoke of his loyalty, and Firestar felt his fur prickle with the weight of meaning behind that word. He had never doubted Brambleclaw’s commitment to the warrior code, but he had often struggled to trust the son of Tigerstar. He could see a few of the other cats murmuring to one another, as if they too understood why he had chosen to mention loyalty in Brambleclaw’s warrior ceremony.

Taking a pace closer, Firestar rested his muzzle on the top of Brambleclaw’s head. He could feel shivers running all through the new warrior’s body. Brambleclaw licked Firestar’s shoulder in response, then stepped back, his eyes glowing.

“Brambleclaw! Brambleclaw!”

His Clanmates greeted him with his new name. In spite of being Tigerstar’s son, he was popular in the Clan, and most cats were pleased that he had become a warrior at last.

Firestar took a couple of paces back, his gaze drifting to the puddle a couple of tail-lengths away where Shrewkit and Spiderkit had been playing. The surface had stilled since they dabbed at it, and now it was a shining silver disk on the ground. It was reflecting an odd-shaped cloud. . . .

Firestar blinked. That was not a cloud. It was a cat’s face: a pale gray cat, with white patches on its fur and huge water-colored eyes, staring straight at him. A wisp of the same unfamiliar scent that he had detected in the ravine drifted around him.

“Who are you?” Firestar whispered. “What do you want?”

There was a high-pitched shriek of excitement as Shrewkit launched himself into the air and landed in the middle of the puddle, splashing every cat within reach and shattering the reflection into tiny fragments.

Firestar looked up: the sky above the ravine was blue and cloudless. He glanced around, half-embarrassed, hoping that none of his Clanmates had seen him talking to a puddle. But as he watched the cats who were still crowding around Brambleclaw, he couldn’t get the gray cat’s face out of his mind.

Firestar led the evening patrol as far as Tallpines and Twolegplace, still wary of possible trouble from BloodClan on that side of the territory. Night had fallen by the time he and his Clanmates returned. As he emerged into the camp from the gorse tunnel, he found Brambleclaw sitting alone in the middle of the clearing.

“He must be tired out,” Sandstorm murmured sympathetically. “He was out late with you last night, doing his assessment, and he hunted with Ashfur and Graystripe all afternoon.”

“He’ll be fine,” Firestar replied. “All new warriors sit vigil the first night.”

“So the rest of us can get a good night’s sleep.” Cloudtail, the other member of the patrol, stretched and yawned.

Leaving his mate and his kin to head for the fresh-kill pile, Firestar strode out into the clearing toward Brambleclaw. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Brambleclaw nodded; according to tradition a new warrior had to keep his vigil in silence. He was obviously bursting with pride, and taking his new responsibilities very seriously.

“Good,” mewed Firestar. “Don’t hesitate to fetch me if there’s trouble.”

Brambleclaw nodded again, and fixed his gaze on the entrance to the thorn tunnel. Firestar left him there and returned to his den. He curled up in his nest, but the moment he closed his eyes he found himself back on the mist-covered moorland, with the wails of cats shivering in his ears. No! He could not spend another night listening helplessly to their terror.

Struggling back to wakefulness, Firestar stumbled out into the clearing again. Brambleclaw still sat in solitary vigil, while Sandstorm was heading across the clearing toward the warriors’ den. As soon as she spotted Firestar she veered aside to join him.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you sleep?”

“I feel restless, that’s all,” Firestar replied, reluctant to tell even Sandstorm about the dream. “I’m going for a walk.” Suddenly longing for the warmth of her company, he added, “Do you want to come with me?”

He was sure his desperation must have shown in his eyes, but Sandstorm just nodded. She crossed the camp beside him and followed him out through the gorse tunnel. Without consciously deciding, Firestar turned his paws toward Sunningrocks, the tumble of smooth gray boulders beside the river that divided ThunderClan territory from RiverClan.

They climbed one of the rocks and sat side by side, watching the water whisper past, dappled with starlight.

After a moment, Sandstorm broke the silence. “Are you worried about Brambleclaw? About whether you were right to make him a warrior?”

Her question surprised Firestar. Did his Clanmates think he still distrusted Brambleclaw because of who his father was? The surprise was followed by a sense of guilt that they were so close to being right.

“No,” he answered, trying to make his voice firm. “Brambleclaw is not the same cat as his father.”

To his relief, Sandstorm didn’t push him to tell her what was really on his mind. She just leaned her head on his shoulder; her scent wreathed around him as they gazed together at the river of reflected starlight.

Firestar knew that her touch should have comforted him, but he couldn’t get the wailing of terrified cats out of his head, or forget the reflection he had seen in the puddle. He stared down at the river, at the ruffled water spilling around half-covered rocks . . . no, they weren’t rocks, he realized, his pelt bristling with fear. They were cats, desperately swimming cats, churning the water with their paws, their drenched bodies dragged by the swirling current.

He blinked, and the vision was gone. All he could see was the river sliding past on its endless journey, with the shivering starlight trapped in its depths.

Great StarClan! he thought. What’s happening to me?

See Bluestar’s rise to power in

Chapter 1

“Shouldn’t she have opened her eyes by now?”

“Hush, Swiftbreeze. She’s only a day old. She’ll open them when she’s ready.”

Bluekit felt the rasp of her mother’s tongue on her flank and nestled closer to Moonflower’s milk-warm belly.

“Snowkit opened hers this morning,” Swiftbreeze reminded her. “And my two had theirs open from almost the moment they were born.” The she-cat’s tail stirred her bedding. “Leopardkit and Patchkit are natural warriors.”

A soft purr sounded from a third queen. “Oh, Swiftbreeze, we all know that no kit can compete with your two,” Poppydawn gently teased.

A small paw poked Bluekit’s side.

Snowkit!

Bluekit mewled with annoyance and snuggled closer to Moonflower.

“Come on, Bluekit!” Snowkit whispered in her ear. “There’s so much to look at and I want to go outside, but Moonflower won’t let me till you’re ready.”

“She’ll open her eyes in her own time,” Moonflower chided.

Yes. In my own time, Bluekit agreed.

Waking, Bluekit could feel the weight of her sister lying on top of her. Moonflower’s belly rose and fell rhythmically beside them. Swiftbreeze was snoring, and Poppydawn wheezed a little as she breathed.

Bluekit heard Leopardkit and Patchkit chattering outside.

“You be the mouse and I’ll be the warrior!” Patchkit was ordering.

“I was the mouse last time!” Leopardkit retorted.

“Were not!

“Was!”

A scuffle broke out, punctuated by squeaks of defiance.

“Watch where you’re rolling!” came the cross meow of a tom, silencing them for a moment.

“Okay, you be the warrior,” Patchkit agreed. “But I bet you can’t catch me.”

Warrior!

Bluekit wriggled out from under her sister. A newleaf breeze stirred the bramble walls and drifted through the gaps—the same fresh forest smell her father had carried in on his pelt when he’d visited. It chased away the stuffy smell of moss and milk and warm, sleeping fur.

Excitement made Bluekit’s claws twitch. I’m going to be a warrior!

For the first time, she stretched open her eyes, blinking against the shafts of light that pierced the bramble roof. The nursery was huge! In darkness, the den had felt small and cozy, but now she could see the brambles arching high overhead, with tiny patches of blue beyond.

Poppydawn lay on her side near one wall, a dark red tabby with a long bushy tail. Bluekit recognized her because she smelled different from Swiftbreeze and Moonflower. There was no milk scent on her; she didn’t have any kits yet. Swiftbreeze, in a nest beside her, was hardly visible—curled in a tight ball with her nose tucked under her tail, her tabby-and-white pelt blotchy against the bracken underneath.

The most familiar scent of all came from behind. Wriggling around, Bluekit gazed at her mother. Sunshine dappled Moonflower’s silver-gray pelt, rippling over the dark stripes that ran along her flank. Her striped face was narrow, and her ears tapered to gentle points. Do I look like her? Bluekit looked over her shoulder at her own pelt. It was fluffy, not sleek like Moonflower’s, and was dark gray all over, with no stripes. Not yet.

Snowkit, lying stretched on her back, was all white except for her gray ear tips.

“Snowkit!” Bluekit breathed.

“What is it?” Snowkit blinked open her eyes. They were blue.

Are mine blue? Bluekit wondered.

“You’ve opened your eyes!” Snowkit leaped to her paws, wide-awake. “Now we can go out of the nursery!”

Bluekit spotted a hole in the bramble wall, just big enough for two kits to squeeze through. “Patchkit and Leopardkit are already outside. Let’s surprise them!”

Poppydawn raised her head. “Don’t go far,” she murmured sleepily before tucking her nose back under her tail.

“Where are Poppydawn’s kits?” Bluekit whispered.

“They won’t arrive for another two moons,” Snowkit answered.

Arrive? Bluekit tipped her head to one side. Where from?

Snowkit was already heading for the hole, scrambling clumsily over Moonflower. Bluekit tumbled after, her short legs uncertain as she slid down her mother’s back and landed in the soft moss.

The nest rustled and Bluekit felt a soft paw clamp her tail-tip to the ground. “Where do you think you are going?”

Moonflower was awake.

Bluekit turned and blinked at her mother. “Outside.”

Moonflower’s eyes glowed and a loud purr rolled in her throat. “You’ve opened your eyes.” She sounded relieved.

“I decided it was time,” Bluekit replied proudly.

“There, Swiftbreeze.” Moonflower turned, waking the tabby-and-white queen with her satisfied mew. “I told you she’d do it when she was ready.”

Swiftbreeze sat up and gave her paw a lick. “Of course. I was only thinking of my own kits—they opened their eyes sooner.” She swiped her paw across her muzzle, smoothing the fur on her nose.

Moonflower turned back to her kits. “So now you’re going out to see the world?”

“Why not?” Bluekit mewed. “Leopardkit and Patchkit are already out there.”

“Leopardkit and Patchkit are five moons old,” Moonflower told her. “They’re much bigger than you, so they’re allowed to play outside.”

Bluekit opened her eyes very wide. “Is it dangerous?”

Moonflower shook her head. “Not in the camp.”

“Then we can go!”

Moonflower sighed, then leaned down to smooth Bluekit’s fur with her tongue. “I suppose you have to leave the nursery sometime.” She studied Snowkit. “Straighten your whiskers.” Pride lit the queen’s amber gaze. “I want you to look perfect when you meet the Clan.”

Snowkit ran a licked paw over each spray of whiskers.

Bluekit looked up at her mother. “Are you coming with us?”

“Do you want me to?”

Bluekit shook her head. “We’re going to surprise Patchkit and Leopardkit.”

“Your first prey.” Moonflower’s whiskers twitched. “Off you go, then.”

Bluekit bounced around and sprinted for the gap.

“Don’t get under any cat’s paws!” Moonflower called after them as Bluekit barged ahead of her sister and headed through the hole. “And stay together!”

The brambles scraped Bluekit’s pelt as she wriggled out of the nursery. When she tumbled onto the ground beyond, sunshine stung her eyes. She blinked away the glare, and the camp opened out in front of her like a dream. A vast, sandy clearing stretched away to a rock that cast a shadow so long it almost touched her paw tips. Two warriors sat beneath the rock, sharing prey beside a clump of nettles. Beyond them lay a fallen tree, its tangled branches folded on the ground like a heap of skinny, hairless legs. Several tail-lengths away from the nursery a wide, low bush spread its branches over the ground. Ferns crowded a corner at the nursery’s other side, and behind them rose a barrier of gorse so tall that Bluekit had to crane her neck to see the top.

Excitement thrilled through her. This was her territory! Her paws prickled. Would she ever know her way around?

There was no sign of Patchkit or Leopardkit.

“Where’ve they gone?” she called to Snowkit.

Snowkit was staring around the camp. “I don’t know,” she meowed absently. “Look at that prey!” She was staring at a heap of birds and mice at the side of the clearing. It was topped by a fat, fluffy squirrel.

“The fresh-kill pile!” Bluekit bounced toward it, her nose twitching. She’d heard the queens in the nursery talking about prey, and she’d smelled squirrel on her mother’s fur. What would it taste like? Thrusting her nose into the pile, she tried to sink her claws into a small creature with short brown fur and a long, thin tail.

“Watch out!”

Snowkit’s warning came too late. Bluekit’s paws buckled as the plump squirrel rolled off the top of the pile and flattened her. Ooof!

Purrs of amusement erupted from the two warriors beside the nettle patch. “I’ve never seen fresh-kill attack a cat before!” meowed one of them.

“Careful!” warned the other warrior. “All that fluff might choke you!”

Hot with embarrassment, Bluekit wriggled out from under the squirrel and stared fiercely at the warriors. “It just fell on me!” She didn’t want to be remembered as the kit who was jumped on by a dead squirrel.

“Hey, you two!” Bluekit recognized Patchkit from his nursery-scent as he padded out from behind the nursery. “Does your mother know you’re outside?”

“Of course!” Bluekit spun around to see her denmate for the first time.

Oh.

She hadn’t expected Patchkit to be so big. His black-and-white fur was smooth like a warrior’s, and she had to tip her head back to look up at him. She stretched her legs, trying to appear taller.

Leopardkit scampered after her brother, swiping playfully at his tail. Her black coat shone in the sunshine. She stopped and stared in delight when she saw Bluekit and Snowkit. “You’ve opened your eyes!”

Bluekit licked her chest, trying to smooth down her fluffy fur and wishing her pelt were as sleek as theirs.

“We can show you around,” Leopardkit mewed excitedly.

Snowkit bounced around the older kit. “Yes, please!”

Bluekit flicked her tail crossly. She didn’t want to be shown her territory. She wanted to explore it for herself! But Leopardkit was already trotting toward the wide patch of ferns near the gorse barrier. “This is the apprentices’ den,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ll be sleeping there in a moon.”

Snowkit raced after her.

“Are you coming?” Patchkit nudged Bluekit.

Bluekit was gazing back at the nursery. “Won’t you miss your old nest?” She felt a sudden flicker of anxiety. She liked sleeping next to Moonflower.

“I can’t wait to move into my new den!” Patchkit yowled as he darted toward the apprentices’ den. “It’ll be great to be able to talk without Swiftbreeze telling us to be quiet and go to sleep.”

As Bluekit hurried after him, the ferns trembled and a tortoiseshell face poked out between the green fronds.

“Once you start your training,” yawned the sleepy-looking apprentice, “you’ll be glad to get some sleep.”

“Hello, Dapplepaw!” Patchkit skittered to a halt outside the den as the tortoiseshell she-cat stretched, half in and half out of the bush.

Bluekit stared at Dapplepaw’s pelt, thick and shiny; the muscles on the she-cat’s shoulders rippled as she sprang from the ferns and landed beside Patchkit. Suddenly Bluekit’s denmate didn’t seem so big after all.

“We’re showing Bluekit and Snowkit around the camp,” Leopardkit announced. “It’s their first time out.”

“Don’t forget to show them the dirtplace,” Dapplepaw joked. “Whitepaw was complaining only this morning about cleaning out the nursery. The place has been filled with kits for moons, and there’s more on the way.”

Bluekit lifted her chin. “Snowkit and I can keep our nest clean now,” she declared.

Dapplepaw’s whiskers quivered. “I’ll tell Whitepaw when she gets back from hunting. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear it.”

Is she teasing? Bluekit narrowed her eyes.

“I can’t wait to go hunting!” Patchkit dropped into a crouch, his tail weaving like a snake.

Quick as the wind, Dapplepaw pinned it down with her paw. “Don’t forget to keep your tail still or the prey will hear you swishing up the leaves.”

Patchkit pulled his tail free and straightened it out, flattening it to the ground.

Snowkit stifled a purr. “It sticks out like a twig,” she whispered in Bluekit’s ear.

Bluekit was watching too intently to reply. She studied how Patchkit had pressed his chest to the ground, how he’d unsheathed his claws and tucked his hind paws right under his body. I’m going to be the best hunter ThunderClan has ever seen, she vowed.

“Not bad,” Dapplepaw congratulated Patchkit, then glanced at Leopardkit. “Let’s see your hunting crouch.”

Leopardkit instantly dropped and pressed her belly to the ground.

Bluekit longed to try it, but not until she’d practiced by herself. “Come on, let’s leave them to it,” she whispered to Snowkit.

Snowkit stared at her in surprise. “Leave them?”

“Let’s explore by ourselves.” Bluekit saw a chance to slip away unnoticed.

“But it’s fun hanging out with . . .”

Bluekit didn’t hear any more; she was already backing away. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a low, spreading bush beside the nursery. Patchkit and Leopardkit wouldn’t find them there. She spun around and dashed for the bush, diving under a branch. As she caught her breath, she tasted lots and lots of different scents clinging to the leaves. How many cats were there in ThunderClan? Did they really all fit in the camp?

The branches shook, and Snowkit crashed in after her.

“I thought you weren’t coming!” Bluekit squeaked in surprise.

“Moonflower told us to stay together,” Snowkit reminded her.

Together they peeped out to see if Leopardkit, Patchkit, and Dapplepaw had noticed their escape. The three cats were staring at the nursery, looking puzzled.

Dapplepaw shrugged. “They must have gone back to their nest.”

“Never mind.” Patchkit paced around Dapplepaw. “Now you can take us to the sandy hollow like you promised.”

Sandy hollow? What’s that? Bluekit suddenly wished she’d stayed with the others.

“I never promised!” Dapplepaw protested.

“We’ll be in trouble if we get caught,” Leopardkit warned. “We’re not supposed to leave the camp until we’re apprentices, remember?”

“Then we won’t get caught,” Patchkit mewed.

Dapplepaw glanced uncertainly around the clearing. “I’ll take you to the edge of the ravine,” she offered. “But that’s all.”

Jealousy burned Bluekit’s pelt as she watched Dapplepaw lead Leopardkit and Patchkit toward the gorse barrier and disappear through a gap at the base.

Maybe we can follow them and see where they go. . . .

Suddenly a muzzle nudged her hindquarters and sent her skidding out from her hiding place. Her sister tumbled after her, and a gray tabby face peered out at them from under the leaves.

“What are you doing here? This is the warriors’ den!”

“S-sorry!” Snowkit backed away.

Bluekit faced the warrior. “How were we supposed to know?” she protested. Do warriors have a special scent or something?

The tabby tom narrowed his eyes. “Are you Moonflower’s kits?”

Snowkit’s pelt ruffled and she looked down at her paws.

Bluekit lifted her chin. She wasn’t scared of the grouchy warrior. “Yes. I’m Bluekit. And this is my sister, Snowkit.”

The tabby slid from under the bush and straightened up. He was even bigger than Dapplepaw. Bluekit took a step back.

“I’m Stonepelt,” meowed the gray tom. “Are you looking for Stormtail?”

Snowkit glanced up eagerly. “Is he here?”

“He’s out hunting.”

“We weren’t looking for him, actually,” Bluekit told the warrior, even though she would have liked to see her father now that her eyes had opened. “We were hiding from Patchkit and Leopardkit.”

“Hide-and-seek, I suppose.” Stonepelt sighed.

“No,” Bluekit corrected him. “They were trying to show us around the camp, but we wanted to explore it for ourselves.”

Stonepelt flicked his tail. “A good warrior learns from his Clanmates.”

“W-we thought it would be more fun on our own,” Snowkit blurted out.

The warrior’s pelt bristled. “Well, it’s no fun being woken from a well-earned rest by a stampede of kits.”

“We’re sorry,” Snowkit apologized. “We didn’t realize.”

“That’s what happens when kits are left to wander around by themselves.” Stonepelt snorted and turned his gaze toward the fresh-kill pile. “Now that I’m awake, I might as well eat.” With a flick of his tail, the warrior headed across the clearing, leaving the two kits alone.

Snowkit turned on Bluekit. “Did you have to pick the warriors’ den to hide in?” she mewed crossly.

“How was I supposed to know?” Bluekit snapped back.

“We would have known if we’d stayed with Patchkit!”

Bluekit flicked her ears. Now they knew where the apprentices’ den was, and the warriors’. They had wanted to explore the camp, hadn’t they? She gazed across the clearing, waiting for her eyes to stop being blurry. She hadn’t tried to see this far away yet. As the rock at the opposite end of the clearing came into focus, she noticed scuffed earth around the base. Paw prints led into the shadows and disappeared where a patch of lichen hung at one side. Where did they lead?

Forgetting that she was cross with Snowkit, Bluekit meowed, “Follow me!” She ran over to the lichen, then reached out and prodded it with her paw. It swung under her touch and then gave way. Her paw sank through the brush and into empty space.

“There’s a gap!” Excited, Bluekit pushed her way through and found herself in a quiet cove. Its floor and walls were smooth and, although no cat was there, a nest of moss lay at one side. “It’s a den,” she hissed back through the lichen to Snowkit.

“It’s Pinestar’s den,” replied a voice that wasn’t her sister’s.

Bluekit froze for a moment, then backed cautiously out of the cave. Was she in trouble again?

A pale silver tom with bright amber eyes was sitting beside Snowkit.

“Hello, Bluekit.”

Bluekit tilted her head. “How do you know my name?” she asked.

“I was at your kitting,” the tom told her. “I’m Featherwhisker, the medicine cat’s apprentice.” He nodded toward Pinestar’s den. “You shouldn’t go in there unless you’ve been invited.” His mew was soft but grave.

“I didn’t realize it was his den. I just wondered what was behind the lichen.” Bluekit looked down at her paws. “Are you going to tell Pinestar?”

“Yes.”

Bluekit’s heart lurched.

“It’s better that I tell him. He’ll smell your scent anyway,” Featherwhisker explained.

Bluekit looked up at him anxiously. Would Pinestar say she couldn’t be a warrior now?

“Don’t worry,” Featherwhisker reassured her. “He won’t be angry. He’ll probably admire your curiosity.”

“Can I go and look too, then?” Snowkit mewed.

Featherwhisker purred. “One kit’s scent will smell like curiosity,” he told her. “Two kits’ scents will smell like nosiness.”

Snowkit’s tail drooped.

“I’m sure you’ll get a chance to see inside one day,” Featherwhisker promised. “Why don’t I take you to meet the elders instead? They like meeting the new kits.”

Again they were to be shown around! Annoyance prickled in Bluekit’s pelt, but she reminded herself what Stonepelt had said: A good warrior learns from her Clanmates.

Featherwhisker led them to the fallen tree and squeezed under a jutting branch. Bluekit trotted after, Snowkit at her heels.

Grass, ferns, and moss sprouted from every crevice in the tangle of wood, turning the decaying bark green with newleaf freshness. Bluekit followed Featherwhisker as he weaved his way through a maze of twigs until he reached an open space among the tangled branches.

A mangy brown tom was lying with his back to the fallen trunk, while a tortoiseshell she-cat groomed his ears with her tongue. A second tom, his orange pelt flecked with white, was eating a mouse at the other end of the den.

The tortoiseshell looked up as Featherwhisker entered. “Have you brought mouse bile?” She looked hopeful. “Mumblefoot’s got another tick.”

“He insists on hunting every day,” the orange tom commented. “He’s bound to get ticks.”

“The day I stop hunting, Weedwhisker, is the day you can sit vigil for me,” meowed Mumblefoot.

Weedwhisker took another bite of his mouse. “I’ll never stop hunting, either,” he muttered with his mouth full. “There aren’t enough apprentices to keep us fed these days.”

“Patchkit and Leopardkit will be starting their training soon,” Featherwhisker reminded them. “And we’ve got another pair on the way to becoming apprentices.” He stepped aside, revealing Bluekit and Snowkit.

Weedwhisker looked up from his mouse. Mumblefoot sat up, pricking his ears.

“Kits!” The tortoiseshell she-cat’s eyes brightened, and she hurried forward and gave Bluekit a soggy lick on her cheek. Bluekit ducked away, rubbing her wet face with her paw, then stifled a purr as Snowkit received the same welcome.

“It’s their first time out of the nursery, Larksong,” Featherwhisker explained. “I caught them trying to make a nest in Pinestar’s den.”

“We were not—” Bluekit started to object.

“Don’t take any notice of Featherwhisker,” Larksong interrupted. “He teases all the cats. It’s one of the privileges of being medicine cat.”

“Medicine cat apprentice,” Featherwhisker corrected her.

“Huh!” Mumblefoot wrapped his tail over his paws. “Which means you do all of Goosefeather’s duties while that lazy old badger pretends to look for herbs.”

“Hush!” Larksong looked sternly at her denmate. “Goosefeather does his best.”

Mumblefoot snorted. “What herb was he supposedly collecting this morning?” he asked Featherwhisker.

The medicine cat apprentice twitched his ears. “Comfrey.”

“Well, I saw him sunning himself by the Owl Tree, fast asleep. His snoring was scaring the prey.” He flicked his tail toward the morsel that Weedwhisker was enjoying. “It took me an age to find that.”

“Goosefeather has taught me a lot,” Featherwhisker said in defense of his mentor. “And there’s no herb in the forest he doesn’t know how to use.”

“If he can be bothered to pick them,” Mumblefoot muttered.

Featherwhisker glanced at Bluekit and Leopardkit. “Take no notice,” he meowed. “Goosefeather and Mumblefoot have never seen eye to eye.”

“And you shouldn’t be saying such things, Mumblefoot,” Larksong scolded. “You know Goosefeather is their kin.”

“He is?” Bluekit blinked at the tortoiseshell.

“He was your mother’s littermate,” Larksong explained. She swept Bluekit and Snowkit forward with her tail. “Come and tell us all about yourselves.”

“My name is Bluekit, and this is my sister, Snowkit. Our mother is Moonflower and our father is Stormtail,” Bluekit chirped. “And today is the first time we’ve been out of the nursery!”

Weedwhisker licked his lips as he swallowed the last of the mouse. “Welcome to the Clan, little ones. I’m sure you’ll be up to trouble in no time. Kits can’t seem to help themselves.”

Bluekit pricked her ears. “Have Leopardkit and Patchkit been in trouble?”

Larksong purred. “I don’t know a kit who hasn’t.”

Relief warmed Bluekit’s belly. She didn’t want to be the only one who got things wrong. Like having a squirrel fall on my head.

“It’s about time Pinestar made those two apprentices,” Mumblefoot croaked. “They have too much time on their paws. Every time I go to the fresh-kill pile, I trip over one of them kicking up dust with some silly game or other.”

“I’ll ask Swiftbreeze if I can take them herb gathering in the forest tomorrow,” Featherwhisker suggested. “That should keep them busy.”

Bluekit’s eyes grew wide. “In the forest?” she echoed.

Featherwhisker nodded. “We won’t go far from camp.”

That must be where Dapplepaw was taking Patchkit and Leopardkit. Bluekit wondered how much more there was beyond the clearing and the dens.

Beside her, Snowkit yawned.

“You’d better be getting them back to their mother,” Larksong advised. “Snowkit looks like she’s going to fall asleep on her paws.”

Bluekit turned to see her sister’s eyes drooping. She suddenly realized that her own legs ached and her belly was rumbling. But she didn’t want to leave; she wanted to learn more. What did Mumblefoot’s tick look like? Where was Goosefeather now?

“Come on.” Featherwhisker began to usher them out of the den.

“How can we learn anything back in the nursery?” Bluekit objected.

“You’ll learn a lot more once you’ve rested,” Larksong meowed.

“Come back and see us soon!” Weedwhisker called.

Bluekit stumbled as they crossed the clearing. Though her mind whirled with questions, her paws were clumsy with fatigue. She felt relieved when Featherwhisker nudged her into the nursery.

“What did you see, little one?” Moonflower asked as Bluekit snuggled down beside her mother with Snowkit.

“Everything,” Bluekit yawned.

Moonflower purred. “Not everything, my darling.” Bluekit closed her eyes as her mother went on softly. “There’s a whole forest for you to explore. And even that is just part of the Clans’ territories. There are lands beyond—Mothermouth, Highstones, and even farther.”

“How far does the world stretch?” Snowkit murmured sleepily.

“Only StarClan knows,” Moonflower replied.

Bluekit imagined trees and bracken and nettles and gorse stretching far beyond the camp into an endless sky. “But my legs aren’t long enough to travel that far,” she protested. As her visions faded into dreams, she heard her mother’s voice continue.

“They’ll grow, my sweet, until one day they’ll be strong enough to walk the whole world.”

SkyClan must fight for survival in

Chapter 1

Floodwater thundered down the gorge, chasing a wall of uprooted trees and bushes as if they were the slenderest twigs. Leafstar stood at the entrance to her den and watched in horror as the current foamed and swirled among the rocks, mounting higher and higher. Rain lashed the surface from bulging black clouds overhead.

Water gurgled into Echosong’s den; though the SkyClan leader strained her eyes through the stormy darkness, she couldn’t see what had happened to the medicine cat. A cat’s shriek cut through the tumult of the water and Leafstar spotted the Clan’s two elders struggling frantically as they were swept out of their den. The two old cats flailed on the surface for a heartbeat and then vanished.

Cherrytail and Patchfoot, heading down the trail with fresh-kill in their jaws, halted in astonishment when they saw the flood. They spun around and fled up the cliff, but the water surged after them and carried them yowling along the gorge. Leafstar lost sight of them as a huge tree, its roots high in the air like claws, rolled between her and the drowning warriors.

Great StarClan, help us! Leafstar prayed. Save my Clan!

Already the floodwater was lapping at the entrance to the nursery. A kit poked its nose out and vanished back inside with a frightened wail. Leafstar bunched her muscles, ready to leap across the rocks and help, but before she could move, a wave higher than the rest licked around her and caught her up, tossing her into the river alongside the splintered trees.

Leafstar fought and writhed against the smothering water, gasping for breath. She coughed as something brittle jabbed inside her open mouth. She opened her eyes and spat out a frond of dried bracken. Her nest was scattered around her den and there were deep claw marks in the floor where she had struggled with the invisible wave. Flicking off a shred of moss that was clinging to one ear, she sat up, panting.

Thank StarClan, it was only a dream!

The SkyClan leader stayed where she was until her heartbeat slowed and she had stopped trembling. The flood had been so real, washing away her Clanmates in front of her eyes. . . .

Sunlight was slanting through the entrance to her den; with a long sigh of relief, Leafstar tottered to her paws and padded onto the ledge outside. Down below, the river wound peacefully between the steep cliffs that enclosed the gorge. As sunhigh approached, light gleamed on the surface of the water and soaked into Leafstar’s brown-and-cream fur; she relaxed her shoulders, enjoying the warmth and the sensation of the gentle breeze that ruffled her pelt.

“It was only a dream,” she repeated to herself, pricking her ears at the twittering of birds in the trees at the top of the gorge. “Newleaf is here, and SkyClan has survived.”

A warm glow of satisfaction flooded through her as she recalled that only a few short moons ago she had been nothing more than Leaf. She had been a loner, responsible for no cat but herself. Then Firestar had appeared: a leader of a Clan from a distant forest, with an amazing story of a lost Clan who had once lived here in the gorge. Firestar had gathered loners and kittypets to revive SkyClan; most astonishing of all, Leaf had been chosen to lead them.

“I’ll never forget the night when the spirits of my ancestors gave me nine lives and made me Leafstar,” she murmured. “My whole world changed. I wonder if you still think about us, Firestar,” she added. “I hope you know that I’ve kept the promises I made to you and my Clanmates.”

Shrill meows from below brought the she-cat back to the present. The Clan was beginning to gather beside the Rockpile, where the underground river flowed into the sunlight for the first time. Shrewtooth, Sparrowpelt, and Cherrytail were crouched down, eating, not far from the fresh-kill pile. Shrewtooth gulped his mouse down quickly, casting suspicious glances at the two younger warriors. Leafstar remembered how a border patrol had caught the black tom spying on the Clan two moons ago, terrified and half-starving. They had persuaded him to move into the warriors’ den, but he was still finding it hard to fit into Clan life.

I’ll have to do something to make him understand that he is among friends now, Leafstar decided. He’s more nervous than a cornered mouse.

The two Clan elders, Lichenfur and Tangle, were sharing tongues on a flat rock warmed by the sun. They looked content; Tangle was a bad-tempered old rogue who stopped in the gorge now and again to eat before going back to his den in the forest, but he seemed to get on fine with Lichenfur, and Leafstar hoped she would convince him to stay permanently in the camp.

Lichenfur had lived alone in the woods farther up the gorge, aware of the new Clan but staying clear of them. She had almost died when she had been caught in a fox trap, until a patrol had found her and brought her back to camp for healing. After that she had been glad to give up the life of a loner. “She has wisdom to teach the Clan,” Leafstar mewed softly from the ledge. “Every Clan needs its elders.”

The loud squeals she could hear were coming from Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, and Rockpaw, who were chasing one another in a tight circle, their fur bristling with excitement. As Leafstar watched, their mother, Clovertail, padded up to them, her whiskers twitching anxiously. Leafstar couldn’t hear what she said, but the apprentices skidded to a halt; Clovertail beckoned Tinypaw with a flick of her tail, and started to give her face a thorough wash. Leafstar purred with amusement as the young white she-cat wriggled under the swipes of her mother’s rough tongue, while Clovertail’s eyes shone with pride.

Pebbles pattering down beside her startled Leafstar. Looking up, she saw Patchfoot heading down the rocky trail with a squirrel clamped firmly in his jaws. Waspwhisker followed him, with his apprentice, Mintpaw, a paw step behind; they both carried mice. Leafstar gave a little nod of approval as the hunting patrol passed her. Prey was becoming more plentiful with the warmer weather, and the fresh-kill pile was swelling. She pictured Waspwhisker when he had first joined the Clan during the first snowfall of leaf-bare: a lost kittypet wailing with cold and hunger as he blundered along the gorge. Now the gray-and-white tom was one of the most skillful hunters in the Clan, with an apprentice of his own. He even had kits, with another former stray named Fallowfern.

SkyClan is growing.

As their father padded past, Waspwhisker’s four kits bounced out of the nursery and scampered behind him, squeaking. Their mother, Fallowfern, emerged more slowly and edged her way down the trail after them; she still wasn’t completely comfortable with the sheer cliff face and pointed rocks that surrounded SkyClan’s camp.

“Be careful!” she called. “Don’t fall!”

The kits had already reached the bottom of the gorge, getting under their father’s paws, cuffing one another over the head and rolling over perilously near to the pool. Waspwhisker gently nudged the pale brown tom, Nettlekit, away from the edge.

But as soon as their father turned away to drop his prey on the fresh-kill pile, Nettlekit’s sister, Plumkit, jumped on him. Nettlekit swiped at her, as if he was trying to copy a battle move he’d seen when the apprentices were training. Plumkit rolled over; Nettlekit staggered, lost his balance, and toppled into the river.

Fallowfern let out a wail. “Nettlekit!”

Stifling a gasp, Leafstar sprang to her paws, but she was too far away to do anything. Fallowfern leaped swiftly from boulder to boulder, but Waspwhisker was faster still, plunging into the pool after his kit. Leafstar lost sight of them for a few heartbeats. She watched the other Clan cats huddled at the water’s edge—all except for Shrewtooth, who paced up and down the bank, his tail lashing in agitation. Leafstar purred with relief when she saw Waspwhisker hauling himself out of the river with Nettlekit clamped firmly in his jaws. The tiny tom’s paws flailed until his father set him down on the rock. Then he shook himself, spattering every cat with shining drops of water. Fallowfern pounced on him and started to lick his pelt, but Nettlekit struggled away from her and hurled himself straight at Plumkit.

“I’ll teach you to push me in the river!” he squealed.

“I did not push you! You fell in, so there!” Plumkit yowled back. She crouched down and leaped forward to meet her littermate in midair. The two kits tussled together in a knot of fur while their parents, looking frustrated, tried to separate them.

Leafstar glanced over her shoulder at the sound of paw steps approaching from farther down the gorge and saw Echosong with a bundle of herbs in her mouth. The young medicine cat’s soft fur shone in the sunlight, reminding Leafstar that not long ago she had been a kittypet. But now she moved confidently over the stony ground, her pads hardened by her time in the gorge, and she had the lean, muscular strength of a Clan cat.

Echosong looked up at her Clan leader. “Greetings, Leafstar!” she called, her voice blurred by the herbs.

“Greetings!” Leafstar meowed back to her. “We’ll start the warrior ceremony soon.”

Echosong acknowledged her words with a wave of her tail, and vanished into her den near the bottom of the cliff to add the herbs to her store.

“Are you ready?”

Leafstar started as a voice spoke at her shoulder, and spun around to see her deputy, Sharpclaw, standing behind her. She hadn’t noticed his silent approach. “Oh, it’s you,” she meowed. “You frightened my fur off, creeping up on me like that!”

The dark ginger tom narrowed his eyes in amusement. “Nothing frightens your fur off, Leafstar.” With a glance at the sky, he added, “It’s sunhigh. When are you going to start the ceremony?”

“I’m waiting for the others,” Leafstar explained.

Sharpclaw’s amusement vanished and he flicked his tail. “You should carry on without them,” he meowed impatiently.

Leafstar twitched one ear in surprise, and saw a defensive look come into her deputy’s eyes.

“We never know when they’re going to turn up,” he persisted. “And there are three young cats down there ready to burst with excitement.”

Glancing at the Rockpile again, Leafstar saw that he was right. Bouncepaw and Rockpaw were circling each other as if they were about to start battle training, while Tinypaw bounced up and down on the spot, too anxious to sit still. Their shrill mews floated up to Leafstar.

“Very well.” Leafstar dipped her head. “We’ll start now.”

With one more glance at the top of the gorge, she led the way down the trail to the Rockpile. As she and Sharpclaw approached, their Clanmates parted to let them through. Leafstar bunched her muscles and sprang to the top of the rocks, while Sharpclaw took his place at the base, not far from the fresh-kill pile. From the Rockpile, Leafstar looked down at her deputy’s broad shoulders, and felt a stab of gratitude for his courage and loyalty.

He’s a good deputy. Firestar advised me well.

Leafstar raised her head and let her yowl echo throughout the gorge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!”

Sagepaw shot out of the apprentices’ den and raced down the trail to join his littermate, Mintpaw, at the foot of the Rockpile. They settled down, tails twitching, not far from Sharpclaw and Waspwhisker. Sagepaw’s mentor, Petalnose, emerged from the warriors’ den and padded down to sit beside her apprentice. Patchfoot sat beside Clovertail, who was heavy with his kits; the she-cat leaned over and touched his ear with her nose, but her attention stayed fixed on the three apprentices.

Leafstar suppressed a sigh when she saw how Shrewtooth edged away as the other warriors approached. He peered around nervously as if he thought the gorge was full of enemies and then skittered down to the very edge of the stream, where he sat, darting anxious glances around him.

He’s lived in the warriors’ den for three moons, Leafstar thought, her claws kneading the rock in exasperation. Doesn’t he know by now that no cat will bite his tail off?

She wondered—not for the first time—what had happened in Shrewtooth’s past to make him so troubled, but she didn’t have time to worry about him right then. The black tom would confide in her when he was ready, and meanwhile she had a warrior ceremony to conduct. Glancing around, Leafstar saw that almost all the Clan had assembled. She wondered briefly what was keeping Echosong, but in the same heartbeat the young medicine cat appeared from her den, the sweet scent of herbs drifting up from her pelt. She sat down beside Petalnose and looked expectantly up at the Rockpile.

“Cats of SkyClan,” Leafstar began, “today we gather for one of the most important ceremonies in the life of a Clan: the naming of new warriors. Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, Rockpaw,” she added with a wave of her tail, “come and stand here beneath the Rockpile.”

The three young cats rose to their paws and padded forward, eyes sparkling and whiskers twitching with anticipation. Clovertail gave Rockpaw a final lick as he passed her, though a tuft of black fur still stood straight up on his head, while one of Bouncepaw’s ears was folded back on itself. His littermate Tinypaw gave it a quick flick with her tail to turn it right side out.

Their three mentors also rose and stood together a couple of tail-lengths away. Leafstar looked down at them, the solemnity of the moment surging over her like a wave. She knew that even if she led her Clan for season after season, she would never fail to feel the wonder of presenting new cats to StarClan. Besides, these three cats were special: the first warriors of SkyClan who had been born in the gorge.

“Patchfoot,” Leafstar began, “has your apprentice, Bouncepaw, learned the skills of a warrior? Has he studied the warrior code and understood what it means to every cat?”

The black-and-white tom glanced proudly at his apprentice as he replied, “Yes, Leafstar.”

“And so has Rockpaw,” Cherrytail added.

Leafstar dipped her head in acknowledgment; she wished Cherrytail had waited to be questioned in her turn, but Rockpaw’s mentor looked almost as excited as her apprentice, and there was no point in scolding her.

“Sparrowpelt,” Leafstar went on, “are you satisfied that your apprentice, Tinypaw, has learned the skills of a warrior and the importance of the warrior code?”

“Yes, Leafstar,” Sparrowpelt replied. “She is ready to become a warrior.”

With a purr of satisfaction, Leafstar leaped down from the Rockpile and stood in front of the three young cats. Their eyes stretched even wider as their leader raised her head and addressed StarClan.

“I, Leafstar, leader of SkyClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these three apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.”

A shiver went through Leafstar as she remembered the ranks of starry cats who had stood around her when she received her nine lives and her name. Are they watching me now? Will they protect these young warriors until it’s their turn to walk among the stars?

“Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, Rockpaw,” Leafstar went on, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”

Bouncepaw gave a huge gulp and replied, “I do.”

“I do.” Rockpaw’s voice rang out clearly.

Tinypaw blinked; her eyes were deep blue pools as she too replied, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names. Bouncepaw, from this moment you will be known as Bouncefire. StarClan honors your energy and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full member of SkyClan.”

Leafstar rested her muzzle on the top of Bouncefire’s head, and the young ginger tom licked her shoulder. Then he took a couple of paces back to stand with the other warriors.

“Rockpaw,” Leafstar went on, “from this moment you will be known as Rockshade. StarClan honors your courage and your strength, and we welcome you as a full member of SkyClan.”

The black tom closed his eyes briefly as Leafstar rested her muzzle on his head, then licked her shoulder and withdrew to stand beside his brother. Tinypaw was left alone in front of her Clan leader; Leafstar could see that the little white she-cat was quivering with anticipation.

“Tinypaw,” she meowed, “from this moment you will be known as Tinycloud. StarClan honors your intelligence and enthusiasm, and we welcome you as a full member of SkyClan.” She rested her muzzle on Tinycloud’s head and felt the rasp of her tongue before she moved away to join her littermates.

“Bouncefire! Rockshade! Tinycloud!” The whole Clan raised their voices to welcome the three new warriors. Leafstar looked on proudly as her Clanmates crowded around to offer congratulations.

“Tinycloud!” The white she-cat’s voice rose indignantly above the rest. “I’m not tiny anymore. I thought I’d be big enough to have a different name.”

A murmur of amusement ran through the cats around her. Clovertail padded up to her and gave her a comforting lick on her ear. “You’ll always be tiny to me,” she purred.

Leafstar could see that the small white cat still wasn’t convinced; Bouncefire and Rockshade both looked thrilled with their new names, but there was a shadow of hurt in their sister’s eyes.

The Clan leader slipped through the crowd of cats until she stood in front of Tinycloud. “Your name may be tiny but your spirit is not,” she murmured. “One day the name of Tinycloud will be honored by your Clanmates, and all the Clanmates to come.”

Tinycloud stared at her. “Do you really think so?”

Leafstar nodded. “It’s up to you to do great things that will be remembered forever. Your name has nothing to do with what you choose to do.”

“I’ll do my best to be a great warrior,” she promised earnestly.

Leafstar touched Tinycloud’s shoulder with the tip of her muzzle. “I know you will.”

While she was still speaking, Waspwhisker’s four kits bundled past and crowded around their mother, Fallowfern.

“We want to be apprentices!” Nettlekit announced.

Fallowfern stroked him gently with her tail. “One day you will be,” she promised. “But not yet. You’re too young.”

“No, we’re not!” Nettlekit’s sister, Plumkit, pushed forward to face her mother. “We’re three whole moons old!”

“But to be an apprentice you have to be six moons,” her mother reminded her.

Plumkit’s eyes clouded with dismay.

“But that’s forever!” her brother Rabbitkit wailed. “We don’t want to wait that long.”

“That’s right,” the fourth kit, Creekkit, added. “We want to learn how to be warriors now!”

Fallowfern gazed at Leafstar over the heads of her kits. Her eyes were half-amused, half-helpless. “What do I do with them?” she asked.

Leafstar twitched her whiskers. “They’ll be apprenticed soon enough,” she mewed. “Then their mentors will have to deal with them.”

Fallowfern heaved a long sigh. “I can’t wait!” But Leafstar saw that her gaze was full of affection as she watched the wriggling kits.

Nettlekit popped his head up. “Plumkit pushed me in the river!” he complained. “I was all wet for the ceremony.”

“Did not!” Plumkit protested. “You were showing off and you fell in.”

“That’s enough,” Fallowfern mewed sharply. “Nettlekit, Plumkit, I don’t want to hear another squeak from either of you.”

Plumkit glared at her brother. “Clovertail, he says I pushed him!” she wailed, padding up to the light brown she-cat. “And I didn’t! He was just showing off. He should know he can’t do that fighting move yet.”

“I know.” Clovertail bent her head to lick the dark gray kit’s ear. “Accidents happen. And there was no harm done. Nettlekit is fine.”

Leafstar was impressed by Clovertail’s soothing words. She remembered what the she-cat had been like when she first joined SkyClan—lazy, spoiled, and selfish, and interested in Clan life only for the protection it offered herself and her kits. But since then she had become like a mother to all the cats, always ready with comfort and advice. She would never be a great hunter or fighter, but she kept the nursery clean and well ordered.

And I don’t know how Fallowfern would manage without her, looking after that rowdy lot!

“Come on,” Clovertail urged, gathering the four kits together with her tail. “Let’s go back to the nursery, and I’ll tell you all about the time Firestar came to the gorge.”

“Yes!” Creekkit exclaimed, his eyes gleaming. “That’s the best story!”

As Clovertail and the kits headed up the trail, Leafstar gazed proudly at her Clan. Sharpclaw was sitting in a patch of sunlight, grooming his dark ginger fur with long, smooth strokes of his tongue. The three new warriors were bunched together in an excited huddle, while their former mentors chose prey from the fresh-kill pile and settled down to eat it.

Petalnose waved her tail at Waspwhisker. “Come on, let’s give our apprentices some battle practice.”

“Great!” Sagepaw yowled, and raced off up the gorge. His sister, Mintpaw, took off after him in a whirl of dust, followed more slowly by the two mentors.

Leafstar let out a sigh of pride and satisfaction. Her Clan had survived the long leaf-bare, and the battle with the rats was fading from memory.

But we’ll never forget Rainfur. The gray tom, Sagepaw and Mintpaw’s father, had fought valiantly on behalf of the Clan he had belonged to for such a short time. He would always be remembered as the first warrior to give his life for the newly restored SkyClan.

And now SkyClan is strong in the gorge, thanks to Firestar and Sandstorm.

Leafstar’s thoughts drifted back through countless seasons, to the Clan who had lived there before and left their claw marks in the warriors’ den. She wished so often that she could know more about them. The last remnant of that long-ago Clan was Skywatcher, the old gray tom who had been nicknamed Moony, ridiculed and called mad by the cats who were now Leafstar’s loyal warriors. He had nurtured the memory of SkyClan like a tiny flame, until Firestar came to fan it into brilliant, blazing life. Leafstar raised her head to gaze at the Skyrock, where the Clan gathered at the full moon. There are so many of us now that some cats have to sit on the main part of the cliff. She caught her breath as she made out a faint gray shape against the drifting white clouds.

Skywatcher!

Warmth filled the Clan leader as she realized that the old cat had come back to see the ceremony for the first warriors who were born in the gorge. She raised her tail in greeting, hoping that all the SkyClan ancestors were looking down from StarClan, and were proud of their descendants, and those who had decided to become Clan cats.

“We will honor you always,” she murmured, her gaze still fixed on Skywatcher’s faint outline. “And we will do everything we can to keep your Clan alive.”

A dangerous promise threatens to destroy RiverClan in

Prologue

Wind rattled the branches of the willow trees and tore the reeds from their beds.

“Hailstar!”

Thick storm clouds swirled across the night-dark sky. Rain battered the tightly woven dens where the RiverClan warriors had been sleeping.

“Hailstar!”

The RiverClan leader flattened his ears as he heard his mate’s terrified cry. He dug his claws into the mud, steadying himself against the water that swirled around his legs. The river had broken its banks and was streaming into camp. He twisted his head around, searching the shadows.

“Hailstar!” Echomist shrieked again. Her cry was muffled by the kit who swung from her jaws. Another clung to her back. She was staring at a nest of twigs that was spinning away from her on the floodwater. A small kit was struggling to cling to it as the woven twigs collapsed like loose leaves.

Hailstar dived for the nest and grabbed the kit just before he disappeared beneath the water. He thrust his son at Timberfur, who was chasing another nest. “Take Volekit to the elders’ den!” The brown tom took the dripping scrap of fur and bounded toward the high end of the camp where the elders’ den was still untouched by the rising water.

“Follow him!” Hailstar ordered Echomist. She nodded, her eyes huge with fear, her long gray fur flattened to her body by the rain.

Hailstar scanned the camp. Gleaming pelts darted in the darkness like panicked fish. A lithe ginger-and-white she-cat was clinging on to the remains of the warriors’ den, trying to claw together its fast-fraying walls. A stout tabby tom tried to block the foaming channel where nests swirled out into the river.

The sky lit up with a white flare as lightning blazed. Thunder crashed and the wind hardened. A new wave of water surged through the camp.

“Shellheart!” Hailstar called to his deputy. “What’s your opinion?”

A dappled gray tom, peering upriver from a beech stump among the reeds, called back, “The water’s rising fast, Hailstar! The elders’ den isn’t going to be safe for much longer.”

Hailstar lashed his tail. “We’ll have to abandon camp!”

“No!” The ginger-and-white she-cat let go of her den and faced the RiverClan leader.

“We must, Brightsky!” Hailstar urged.

“We can’t leave everything our ancestors built for us!”

“We can rebuild it!” Hailstar snapped.

“It won’t be the same!” Brightsky plunged through the floods and clamped her paws around a floating nest.

Shellheart bounded down from the stump and splashed toward his Clanmate. “Together we can rebuild anything,” he insisted. “Except cats who have drowned trying to save bits of twig.”

Brightsky reluctantly let go of the nest and watched it spin away into the reeds, then raced for the high end of camp.

Black, bubbling water surged around the edge of the elders’ den, making the woven willow stems sway with the flood. Hailstar bounded up the slope and shook the den with his paws. “Get out!”

Echomist slid through the entrance. Three kits, like half- drowned mice, followed her. She stared at her mate. “Where should we go?”

“Head for high ground.” Hailstar flicked his tail uphill, where the riverbank climbed toward a swath of trees and bushes.

A tangle-furred elder slid out of the den. “I’ve never seen a storm like this.”

A tabby-and-white she-cat followed. “Where are we going?” she rasped.

The tom stroked her spine with his tail. “Further inland, Birdsong, where it’s safe.”

Birdsong’s eyes widened. “Away from the river?”

“Just for now,” Hailstar promised. “Come on, everyone.”

“Wait!” Shellheart stopped halfway up the slope and stared over his shoulder. “Where’s Rainflower?”

“Here!” A pale gray queen picked her way carefully through the swirling water toward him. Her belly was swollen with unborn kits.

“Are you all right?” Shellheart asked, sniffing her.

“I will be when I get my paws dry.” She was out of breath, and rain ran off her fur in steady rivulets.

A small white she-cat wove around the queen, her eyes flashing. “She’s been having pains.”

Shellheart narrowed his eyes. “Are the kits coming, Brambleberry?”

“I don’t know yet,” the medicine cat meowed.

Rainflower gazed at the RiverClan deputy. “Go and help Hailstar. I’ll be fine.”

Shellheart blinked at her, then turned away. “Rippleclaw?”

“Here!” A black-and-silver tabby tom was holding open a gap in the reeds beside the elders’ den while his Clanmates streamed through, heading for higher ground.

“Make sure every cat heads straight into the trees.”

Rippleclaw nodded to the deputy and nudged a graying elder who was refusing to go through the gap.

“I can’t go without Duskwater!” The elder dug his claws into the wet earth. “She went to make dirt before the camp flooded. She hasn’t come back yet.”

“We’ll find her,” Rippleclaw called over the wind. He glanced at his leader, who was rooted on the slope, eyes wide as he stared at his devastated camp. “Can you see her, Hailstar?”

Hailstar shook his head. “I’ll make sure the dens are empty!” He plunged back toward the nursery, stuck his head through the entrance, and sniffed for warm bodies.

It was deserted. He checked the place where the apprentices’ den had been next, and then what was left of the warriors’ dens. It smelled only of sodden reeds. He glanced around the camp, fighting to keep his balance as water tugged and pushed him. Then half running, half swimming, he crossed the clearing and followed his Clan.

“Are we all here?” he asked as he caught up with his Clanmates on drier ground.

Rippleclaw scowled. “There’s still no sign of Duskwater.”

Brightsky stepped forward. “I’ll go back and find her.”

Hailstar nodded. “The rest of you keep moving up to the trees,” he ordered.

As Brightsky dived down the bank, Rainflower let out a low moan.

Shellheart stiffened. “Rainflower?”

The queen was crouching, her face twisted in pain.

Brambleberry ducked down beside her, then lifted her head. “The kits are coming,” she announced.

“Right now?” Shellheart demanded.

“They won’t wait for the storm to end,” Brambleberry retorted. “We must get her somewhere safe.”

“Into the middle of the trees,” Shellheart suggested. “The water never reaches that far.”

“That’ll take too long.” Brambleberry glanced up at the wide, low branch of an ancient oak that hung overhead. “Do you think you can get her up there?”

Shellheart blinked. “I will if I have to.” He grabbed Rainflower’s scruff and, half guiding, half dragging, propelled her toward the thick trunk. “Up you go.”

Rainflower glanced upward and groaned. She opened her mouth as if she was about to protest, then her flanks convulsed and she shrank into the spasm, looking small and wretched with her fur slicked down.

“Come on!” Brambleberry meowed briskly. “We don’t have long.”

Rainflower dug her claws into the bark, and Shellheart shoved from behind. Panting, the queen hauled herself up until she reached a hollow in the trunk where the low branch jutted out.

Brambleberry skittered up the trunk, lithe as a squirrel, slipping past Shellheart. She glanced at the hollow where branch met trunk and nodded. “Here will do.” Then she blinked at Shellheart. “Can you get herbs from my den?”

Shellheart nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Be careful!” Rainflower gasped, but Shellheart had already leaped from the branch onto the slippery ground below and was racing back toward the flooded camp.

Brambleberry cleared wet leaves out of the low dip between branch and trunk. “Good. There’s plenty of room for you to lie down here.” She nosed Rainflower into the hollow and crouched beside her on the dripping bark.

“Will he be all right?” Rainflower whispered. She stared into the darkness where Shellheart had disappeared.

“He can take care of himself,” Brambleberry told her. Her fur was spiked, wet to the skin. She’d been RiverClan’s medicine cat for fewer than three moons since her mentor, Milkfur, had joined StarClan. This was the first time she’d dealt with an emergency on her own.

Rainflower shuddered as a fresh wave of pain passed through her belly. Brambleberry took a deep breath, blocking out the howling of the wind and the growl of thunder. She laid her forepaws gently on Rainflower’s flank as another contraction gripped the queen.

Brambleberry scanned the reed bed far below. No sign of Shellheart. “Here.” She nipped off a twig with her teeth and laid it beside Rainflower’s cheek. “Bite down on that when the pains come.”

“Is that all you have?” Rainflower hissed.

“It’s all you need,” Brambleberry told her. “Queens have been kitting since the ancient Clans. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Rainflower groaned and bit down on the stick, her body shuddering.

Claws ripped bark as Shellheart scrambled onto the branch. “Sorry,” he panted. His fur was drenched. “I had to swim to your den. I managed to get inside, but your herbs have all been washed away.”

Brambleberry closed her eyes as she thought of how many moons it had taken to build up that supply. Before she could reply, Rainflower hissed and the stick crunched between her teeth.

The first kit was coming.

Brambleberry leaned down in time to see a kit slither out on to the rough bark. She gave it a lick, and then passed the tiny, wriggling bundle to its father. “Don’t let it fall,” she warned.

“Is everything okay?” Brightsky was calling from the bottom of the tree. Water lapped her paws. The flood had reached the tree.

“One kit and one more to come,” Brambleberry reported.

Shellheart looked down, keeping one forepaw over the squirming kit. “Did you find Duskwater?”

“No sign of her,” Brightsky replied heavily.

Shellheart lashed his tail. “Join the others. We’re fine. Come back for us when the waters have gone down.”

The stick Rainflower had been biting on crumbled into splinters as the second kit slid out. Brambleberry caught it in her teeth and placed it at Rainflower’s belly.

Rainflower reached for it at once, licking it roughly till it mewled. “It’s a tom.”

“So’s this one.” Shellheart gently placed the tiny kit beside its littermate. His voice cracked. “They’re perfect,” he whispered.

Rainflower purred as Shellheart rubbed his cheek against hers. “I name this one Oakkit for the oak that protected us from the flood,” she rumbled, “and this one Stormkit for the storm that drove us here.”

“Kits born into a storm like this one are destined to be great warriors,” Shellheart murmured. He gazed at his queen with pride. “It’s just a shame they can’t both be leaders of RiverClan.”

Chapter 1

Stormkit edged farther along the slippery branch. Volekit’s dare rang in his ears. Bet you fall off before you get to the end!

He unsheathed his claws and dug them into the frozen bark. From here, he could see a long way downstream, as far as the bend in the river. He could just glimpse the first of the stepping-stones beyond. And on the far shore, Sunningrocks! Its sheer side shadowed the water and its wide, smooth stone summit sparkled with frost. Stormkit fluffed out his fur. He’d seen farther than any other kit in the Clan! They’d never even seen past the reed bed.

“Be careful!” Oakkit called from the camp clearing.

“Shut up, Oakkit! I’m a warrior!” Stormkit looked down, past the fat, mouse-brown bulrush heads, into the dense forest of reeds that jutted out of the icy river. Minnows flitted between the stems, their scales flashing.

Could he reach down with a paw, break the thin ice, and scoop them out? He pressed his pale brown belly to the bark, wrapped his hind legs around the narrow branch, and swung his forepaws down toward the tiny fish. Tingling with frustration, he felt his claws brush the tips of the bulrushes. I was born in a storm! I’m going to be Clan leader one day! Stormkit stretched harder, trembling with the effort.

“What are you doing?” Oakkit yelped.

“Let him be!” Stormkit heard Rainflower silencing Oakkit, a purr rumbling in her throat. “Your brother has the courage of a warrior already.”

Stormkit clung tighter to the branch. I’ll be fine. I’m stronger than StarClan.

“Look out!” Oakkit squeaked.

A rush of wind tugged Stormkit’s fur. A flurry of black-and-white feathers battered his ears.

Magpie!

Talons scraped his spine.

Frog dirt and fish guts! Stormkit’s claws were wrenched out of the bark. He plummeted into the reeds and crashed through the thin ice. The freezing water shocked the breath from him. Minnows darted away as he thrashed in the water.

Where’s the shore? River water flooded his mouth. It tasted of stone and weeds. Spluttering, he struggled to swim, but the stiff reeds blocked his flailing paws. StarClan, help me! Panic shot through him as he fought to keep his muzzle above water.

Suddenly the stems beside him swished apart and Tanglewhisker plunged through.

“I’m okay!” Stormkit spluttered. Water rushed into his mouth again and he sank, coughing, beneath the ice.

Teeth gripped his scruff.

“Kits!”

Stormkit heard Tanglewhisker’s muffled growl as the elder hauled him up.

Shivering with cold, Stormkit bunched his paws against his belly, wincing with embarrassment as Tanglewhisker pushed his way through the reeds and deposited Stormkit on the bank next to his mother.

“Nice dive, Stormkit!” Volekit teased.

“Like a kingfisher,” Beetlekit added. “Maybe Hailstar should change your name to Birdbrain.”

Stormkit growled at the two kits as they crowded around him. One moon older, they loomed over him like crows.

Echomist paced anxiously behind them, her soft gray fur fluffed with worry. “Don’t tease, you two.”

Petalkit pushed past her brothers. “I wasn’t teasing!” The pretty tortoiseshell she-cat stuck her nose in the air. “I think he was brave to try!”

Purring, Rainflower licked Stormkit’s ears. “Next time, grip the branch harder.”

Stormkit shook her off. “Don’t worry. I will.”

As Tanglewhisker shook water from his long tabby pelt, Birdsong hurried down the slope from the elders’ den. “You’ll catch cold!” she scolded.

Tanglewhisker blinked at his tabby-and-white mate. “Did you want me to let him drown?”

“One of the warriors would have rescued him,” Birdsong retorted.

Tanglewhisker shrugged. “They’re busy.”

Rainflower purred. “I think Stormkit would have found his own way out. He’s a strong little cat, aren’t you?”

Stormkit felt his fur glow with the warmth of his mother’s praise. He blinked water out of his eyes and looked around the clearing. This was the home of RiverClan, the greatest Clan of all. He hadn’t seen it before the flood, so the smooth brown mud that covered the ground and the heaps of battered wet reeds that cluttered every corner were more familiar to him than the densely woven walls and open spaces that were emerging. Timberfur and Cedarpelt were carrying bundles of freshly picked dry reeds across the clearing to Softpaw and Whitepaw, who were weaving them into the tattered apprentices’ den. Farther along the river’s edge, Shellheart and Ottersplash were gathering more stems. Fallowtail was helping Brambleberry clear the last of the muddy debris from the medicine den. Owlfur and Lakeshine were dragging deadwood and bark that had been washed through the reeds and into the clearing.

A whole moon had passed since the stormy night when Stormkit and Oakkit had been born, but the camp still showed signs of being swept away. Fortunately the elders’ den had held firm and only needed a little reweaving here and there. And the nursery, a ball of tightly overlapping willow branches and reeds, had been found downstream, wedged between the stepping-stones. It had been easy enough to drag it back to camp and lodge it among the thick sedge bushes. A few patches had repaired it, though it was still damp inside from the soaking. Rainflower tucked fresh moss into their nest every evening, but Stormkit still woke each morning with a cold, wet pelt.

The rest of the camp was harder to fix. It had taken half a moon’s digging and levering to roll the fallen tree to the edge of the clearing where the old warriors’ dens had stood. Once the broken branches and shattered bark had been cleared away, new dens could be woven against its thick trunk. Until then, RiverClan’s warriors slept in whatever shelter they could find, making nests in the thick sedge walls around the camp or in the nooks and crevices of the fallen tree. No cat could remember what it was like to be warm. Newleaf might be showing in early buds and birdsong, but leaf-bare frosts still gripped the banks of the river every night.

Hailstar had been sleeping in the open, despite the cold. He insisted that his den be the last one rebuilt. “When my Clan is safe and warm, then I will sleep soundly, but not before,” he had vowed.

Oakkit wound around Stormkit, soaking water from his brother’s pale tabby pelt into his own bracken-colored fur. “I told you to be careful.”

“I wouldn’t have fallen if that magpie hadn’t dived at me,” Stormkit growled through chattering teeth. The cold water seemed to have reached his bones.

“You wouldn’t have fallen off if you’d stayed in the clearing.” A deep mew sounded from behind them.

Stormkit spun around.

Hailstar was staring down at him, his thick gray pelt ruffled against the cold. Amusement lit the RiverClan leader’s yellow eyes. “Shellheart!” He called to his deputy, not taking his eyes from Stormkit.

Shellheart slid out from the rushes, his wet pelt slicked against his strong frame. He glanced at Stormkit. “Is everything okay?”

“Your kit will be a brave warrior,” Hailstar meowed. “If he doesn’t drown himself before he starts his training.”

Shellheart’s tail flicked as Hailstar went on. “We’d better send a patrol to catch that magpie. It’s beginning to think it owns RiverClan territory.”

Shellheart dipped his head. “Should we drive it off or catch it?”

Hailstar wrinkled his nose. “We’d better catch it,” he growled unenthusiastically. Few cats in RiverClan liked adding birds to the fresh-kill pile. “We must eat whatever we can find.” The flood had killed so many fish—battered them on the rocks or left them stranded on land—that river prey was scarce.

“I’ll organize a patrol,” Shellheart meowed.

“Wait till Rippleclaw’s patrol returns,” Hailstar ordered. With so much rebuilding still to do in camp, Hailstar rarely sent out more than one patrol at a time.

“I hope they’ve caught something edible this time,” Tanglewhisker muttered.

“I’m sure they will have,” Birdsong meowed. “It’s been a moon since the flood. The fish must be coming back by now.”

Echomist turned away from her kits. “If only we’d buried some of the fish washed up by the flood, and preserved them like ThunderClan does with their prey in leaf-bare.”

Hailstar shook his head. “Fish don’t keep like forest prey. Our warriors will need the strength of StarClan to repair the damage done by the flood as well as keep the fresh-kill pile well stocked.”

Stormkit stuck out his tail. “Let us help with the rebuilding, then.”

Volekit hurried forward, his gray fur spiking with excitement. “Oh, yes, please!”

“We’ll be really useful!” Petalkit fluffed out her tortoiseshell pelt.

Echomist swept her tail around her kits, pulling them away. “Don’t be frog-brained. You’ll get under everyone’s paws.”

Stormkit plucked at the ground. “No, we won’t!”

Hailstar’s whiskers twitched. “I’m not going to turn down a genuine offer of help, Echomist. As long as they stay in the camp, I don’t see a problem. We’ll have a kit patrol!”

Stormkit puffed out his chest as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Oakkit, Beetlekit, Volekit, and Petalkit. “Great! What should we do?”

Hailstar thought for a moment. “If you take the reeds that Ottersplash is gathering to Softpaw and Whitepaw, then Timberfur and Cedarpelt will be free to join Shellheart’s hunting patrol.”

“Come on!” Stormkit raced for the shore where Ottersplash was tossing reeds.

“Careful!” Cedarpelt was pawing together a freshly harvested pile as Stormkit skidded to a halt next to him. “Don’t knock them into the river!”

“I won’t!” Stormkit sank his teeth into a stem and began dragging it across the clearing to the apprentices’ half-built den.

“Well, well.” Whitepaw paused from weaving stems on the roof of the apprentices’ den and looked down. “We have new volunteers.”

“Is that a whole reed?” Softpaw peered from inside the framework of woven willow stems, her tabby-patched tail quivering. “We’ll be finished before we know it with help like this.”

“I can carry more,” Stormkit boasted, puffed up with pride. He dropped the stem and turned away, nearly crashing into Beetlekit.

“Watch out!” mewed the black kit, tripping over the reed he was dragging.

“Sorry!” Stormkit dashed back toward the reed bed, past Volekit, who had three reeds clamped between his jaws. “I’m bringing four next time,” he called over his shoulder.

He pricked his ears as he heard paws splash on the marshy earth beyond the entrance tunnel. A cat was racing toward the camp. Stormkit halted, blinking, as the sedge wall of the camp rustled and Rippleclaw pounded into the clearing.

“Any prey?” Birdsong called.

Rippleclaw shook his head, his silver flanks heaving. “Sunningrocks!” he gasped. “ThunderClan has taken Sunningrocks!”

Don’t miss a single Warriors adventure!

Warriors

Sinister perils threaten the four warrior Clans. Into the midst of this turmoil comes Rusty, an ordinary housecat, who may just be the bravest of them all.

Warriors #1: Into the Wild

Warriors #2: Fire and Ice

Warriors #3: Forest of Secrets

Warriors #4: Rising Storm

Warriors #5: A Dangerous Path

Warriors #6: The Darkest Hour

Available in print and ebook editions

Warriors: The New Prophecy

Follow the next generation of heroic cats as they set off on a quest to save the Clans from destruction.

Warriors: The New Prophecy #1: Midnight

Warriors: The New Prophecy #2: Moonrise

Warriors: The New Prophecy #3: Dawn

Warriors: The New Prophecy #4: Starlight

Warriors: The New Prophecy #5: Twilight

Warriors: The New Prophecy #6: Sunset

Available in print and ebook editions

Warriors: Power of Three

Firestar’s grandchildren begin their training as warrior cats. Prophecy foretells that they will hold more power than any cats before them.

Warriors: Power of Three #1: The Sight

Warriors: Power of Three #2: Dark River

Warriors: Power of Three #3: Outcast

Warriors: Power of Three #4: Eclipse

Warriors: Power of Three #5: Long Shadows

Warriors: Power of Three #6: Sunrise

Available in print and ebook editions

Warriors: Omen of the Stars

Which ThunderClan apprentice will complete the prophecy that foretells that three Clanmates hold the future of the stars in their paws?

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #1: The Fourth Apprentice

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #2: Fading Echoes

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #3: Night Whispers

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #4: Sign of the Moon

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #5: The Forgotten Warrior

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #6: The Last Hope

Available in print and ebook editions

Don’t miss the standalone adventures!

Warriors Super Edition: Firestar’s Quest

Warriors Super Edition: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Warriors Super Edition: SkyClan’s Destiny

Warriors Super Edition: Crookedstar’s Promise

Available in print and ebook editions

Delve deeper into the Clans.

Warriors Field Guide: Secrets of the Clans

Warriors: Cats of the Clans

Warriors: Code of the Clans

Warriors: Battles of the Clans

Available in print and ebook editions

Warrior cats come to life in manga!

Warriors: The Lost Warrior

Warriors: Warrior’s Refuge

Warriors: Warrior’s Return

Warriors: The Rise of Scourge

Warriors: Tigerstar and Sasha #1: Into the Woods

Warriors: Tigerstar and Sasha #2: Escape from the Forest

Warriors: Tigerstar and Sasha #3: Return to the Clans

Warriors: Ravenpaw’s Path #1: Shattered Peace

Warriors: Ravenpaw’s Path #2: A Clan in Need

Warriors: Ravenpaw’s Path #3: The Heart of a Warrior

Warriors: SkyClan and the Stranger #1: The Rescue

Warriors: SkyClan and the Stranger #2: Beyond the Code

Warriors: SkyClan and the Stranger #3: After the Flood

Available in print editions

About the Author

ERIN HUNTER is inspired by a love of cats and a fascination with the ferocity of the natural world. As well as having great respect for nature in all its forms, Erin enjoys creating rich mythical explanations for animal behavior. She is also the author of the bestselling Seekers series.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Other Books by Erin Hunter

WARRIORS

Book One: Into the Wild

Book Two: Fire and Ice

Book Three: Forest of Secrets

Book Four: Rising Storm

Book Five: A Dangerous Path

Book Six: The Darkest Hour

THE NEW PROPHECY

Book One: Midnight

Book Two: Moonrise

Book Three: Dawn

Book Four: Starlight

Book Five: Twilight

Book Six: Sunset

POWER OF THREE

Book One: The Sight

Book Two: Dark River

Book Three: Outcast

Book Four: Eclipse

Book Five: Long Shadows

Book Six: Sunrise

EXPLORE THE WARRIORS WORLD

Warriors Super Edition: Firestar’s Quest

Warriors Super Edition: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Warriors Field Guide: Secrets of the Clans

Warriors: Cats of the Clans

Warriors: Code of the Clans

MANGA

The Lost Warrior

Warrior’s Refuge

Warrior’s Return

The Rise of Scourge

Tigerstar and Sasha #1: Into the Woods

Tigerstar and Sasha #2: Escape from the Forest

Tigerstar and Sasha #3: Return to the Clans

Ravenpaw’s Path #1: Shattered Peace

Also by Erin Hunter
SEEKERS

Book One: The Quest Begins

Book Two: Great Bear Lake

Book Three: Smoke Mountain

About the Publisher

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http://www.harpercollins.co.nz

United Kingdom

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

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London, W6 8JB, UK

http://www.harpercollins.co.uk

United States

HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

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New York, NY 10022

http://www.harpercollins.com