Hunger was not the only hardship leaf-bare had brought. Molepaw, one of Sorreltail’s kits, had died of a cough that had not responded to Leafpool’s herbs, and Rainwhisker had been killed during a storm, struck by a falling branch.
Brightheart paused from her washing. “How are you today, Jaykit?”
Jaykit placed the mouse between his paws, safe from Hollykit’s grasp. “I’m fine, of course,” he meowed. Why did Brightheart have to make such a fuss over him? He’d only been sleeping in the nursery, not out raiding ShadowClan territory! It was like she was always keeping her one good eye on him. Eager to prove he was just as strong as his brother and sister, Jaykit flung the mouse high over Hollykit’s head.
As Lionkit thundered past him and grappled with Hollykit to be the first to catch it, Squirrelflight’s voice sounded from the side of the nursery. “You should show more respect for your prey!” Their mother was busy pressing leaves into gaps in the prickly walls that surrounded the queens’ den.
Daisy was helping her. “Kits will be kits,” the white she-cat purred indulgently.
Jaykit’s nostrils flared at Daisy’s strange scent. It was different from the Clanborn cats’, and some of the warriors still referred to her as a kittypet because she had once lived in the horseplace and eaten Twoleg food. Daisy wasn’t a warrior, because she showed no sign that she ever wished to leave the nursery, but her kits Mousepaw, Hazelpaw, and Berrypaw were apprentices, and it seemed to Jaykit that they were as Clanborn as any of his Clanmates.
“They won’t be kits much longer,” Squirrelflight told Daisy, sweeping more leaves to her side with her long tail. The brittle rustling noise reminded Jaykit of his dream.
“All the more reason to let them enjoy themselves now,” Daisy replied.
Jaykit felt a wave of affection for the milky white she-cat. Though Squirrelflight was his mother, it had been Daisy who had warmed and washed him alongside Ferncloud when Clan duties had kept his mother away from the nursery. Squirrelflight had returned to her warrior duties soon after her kits had been born. Though she still had a nest in the nursery, she used it less and less, preferring to sleep in the warriors’ den, where she wouldn’t disturb the kits and nursing queens when she left on early patrols.
“Can you feel the draft now, Ferncloud?” Squirrelflight called through the nursery wall.
“No.” Ferncloud’s voice drifted out through the tangle of branches. “We’re warm as fox cubs in here.”
“Good,” Squirrelflight meowed. “Can you clear up here, Daisy? I promised Brambleclaw I’d help him check for loose rocks around the hollow.”
“Loose rocks?” Daisy gasped.
“It’s good to have such solid defenses.” Squirrelflight’s voice echoed a little as she gazed at the sheer stone cliffs that enclosed the camp on almost every side. “But the frost might have loosened stones, and we don’t want them falling into the camp.”
Jaykit’s attention was distracted by the bitter stench of mouse bile that came from the elders’ den. Leafpool must be removing a tick from Longtail or Mousefur. A much nicer odor heralded the return of two of Daisy’s kits—Mousepaw and Hazelpaw were bringing fresh-kill back from a hunting expedition. They hurried excitedly into the camp, Mousepaw carrying two mice and Hazelpaw with a large thrush in her jaws. They dropped them at the fresh-kill pile.
Dustpelt padded over to greet them. “Looks like you did well, Hazelpaw!” he praised his apprentice. “You both did.” The apprentices purred, and Jaykit noticed how much they sounded like their mother, as though their purrs were muffled by their thick, soft pelts.
A sudden rush of wind and fur knocked Jaykit off his paws.
“Are you playing with us or not?” Hollykit demanded.
Jaykit leaped up, shaking himself. “Of course I am!”
“Well, Lionkit’s got the mouse, and he won’t let me have it!” Hollykit complained.
“Let’s get him then!” Jaykit hared across the clearing toward his brother. He bundled into Lionkit and pressed him to the frosty earth while Hollykit dragged the mouse from Lionkit’s claws.
“Unfair!” Lionkit protested.
“We don’t have to be fair,” Hollykit squeaked triumphantly. “We’re not in StarClan yet!”
“And you never will be if you keep playing with food that way!” Stormfur had paused beside them on his way to the warriors’ den. His words were stern, though his voice was warm. “It’s leaf-bare. We should thank StarClan for every morsel.”
Lionkit wriggled out from underneath Jaykit. “We’re just practicing our hunting skills!”
“We have to practice,” Jaykit added, sitting up. “We’ll be apprentices soon.”
Stormfur was silent for a moment; then he stretched forward and gave Jaykit a quick lick between the ears. “Of course,” he murmured. “I was forgetting.”
Frustration flared in Jaykit’s belly. Why did the whole Clan treat him like a newborn kit when he was nearly six moons old? He shook his head crossly. Stormfur wasn’t even a proper ThunderClan cat! His father, Graystripe, had once been ThunderClan’s deputy, but Stormfur had grown up with his mother’s Clanmates in RiverClan, and his mate, Brook, had come from far away in the mountains. What right did he have to act superior?
Hollykit’s belly rumbled. “How about we eat this mouse instead of playing with it?”
“You two share it,” Lionkit offered. “I’ll get something from the fresh-kill pile.”
Jaykit turned toward the heap of prey caught by the warriors that morning. A faint odor disturbed him. He took in a deeper breath, opening his jaws to draw the scents into his mouth: he could smell Hazelpaw’s freshly killed thrush and Mousepaw’s mice, their blood still warm. But below there was a sour smell that made his tongue curl. He padded past his brother, his tail held stiffly behind him.
“What are you doing?” Lionkit asked.
Jaykit didn’t answer. He nosed his way in among the small dead bodies, caught hold of a wren, and pulled it free. “Look!” he mewed, rolling the bird over with his paw. The creature’s belly was alive with maggots.
“Ugh!” Hollykit squealed.
Leafpool emerged from the elders’ den, a wad of moss in her jaws. Jaykit could smell the mouse bile on it even over the stench of the rotten wren. She paused by the three kits. “Well spotted,” she praised them, dropping the bile-soaked moss at her paws. “I know prey is scarce at the moment, but better to eat nothing than to eat something that will hurt your belly.”
“Jaykit found it,” Hollykit told her.
“Well, he’s saved me a patient,” Leafpool meowed. “I’m busy enough as it is. Brackenfur and Birchfall have whitecough.”
“Do you want help gathering herbs?” Jaykit offered. He had never been out of the camp, and he was desperate to explore the forest. He wanted to smell the boundary markers; up till now he had tasted only the weak scents of ShadowClan and WindClan carried from the borders on the pelts of ThunderClan patrols. He wanted to feel the breeze fresh off the lake, untainted by the scents of the forest. He wanted to learn where the markers were along each boundary so that he could defend every pawstep of his Clan’s territory.
“You could gather far more herbs with us to carry them back to camp!” Lionkit put in.
“You know you’re not meant to leave the camp until you’re apprentices,” Leafpool reminded them.
“But you’ll need help if there are sick cats…,” Jaykit insisted.
Leafpool silenced him by flicking the tip of her tail over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Jaykit,” she meowed. “It won’t be long until Firestar gives you your apprentice names. But until then, you’ll have to wait like any other kits.”
Jaykit understood her meaning. Their father was the Clan deputy, and their mother was Firestar’s daughter; Leafpool was reminding them yet again that it did not entitle them to special treatment. His tail twitched crossly. Sometimes it felt like the rest of the Clan went out of their way to make sure he and his littermates never got special treat
ment. It wasn’t fair!
“I’m sorry,” Leafpool meowed. “But that’s just the way it is.” She picked up the foul-smelling moss and padded back to the medicine den.
“Nice try,” Lionkit whispered in Jaykit’s ear. “But it looks like we’re stuck in the camp for a while longer.”
“Leafpool always thinks she can win us over just because she brings wool for our nests from the moorland,” Jaykit hissed. “Or pieces of honeycomb to lick. Why can’t she just give us what we really want—a chance to explore outside the camp?”
Hollykit swished her tail over the frozen ground. Jaykit knew she wanted to explore beyond the camp walls as much as he and Lionkit did. “But she’s right,” she mewed grudgingly. “We must stick to the warrior code.”
They ate, sharing the mouse and a vole between them. As Jaykit washed his face afterward, drawing his paws over his ears to give them a thorough cleaning, he noticed Brook emerging from the warriors’ den to join Cloudtail and Brightheart in the sun. She carried a different scent from the other warriors, the scent of mountains and tumbling water. It seemed to make her the strangest of all the cats who were not Clanborn. Was it just her scent, Jaykit wondered, or was it something more he sensed in the mountain she-cat—some wariness that had never left her? He could not quite put his whisker on it, but he was sure that Brook felt out of place here in the forest.
A rustle in the thorn barrier that protected the entrance to the camp signaled Berrypaw’s return. Daisy’s third kit charged over to the fresh-kill pile and threw down his catch—a plump wood pigeon.
“Where’s Brambleclaw?” Berrypaw called out to the kits. Brambleclaw was Berrypaw’s mentor, and Jaykit could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy that Berrypaw spent so much time training with Brambleclaw when his own paws ached to hunt in the forest with his father.
“He’s with Squirrelflight,” Jaykit replied. “They’re checking for loose stones.” He pricked his ears, listening for the sound of his mother’s and father’s voices. He could not hear them, but the breeze blowing down from the cliff behind the medicine den carried their scent.
“Up there,” he told Berrypaw, lifting his nose toward them.
“You’re sharp today, Jaykit!” Berrypaw meowed. “I wanted to show him my pigeon and ask him if we were doing battle training after sunhigh.”
Jealousy gnawed harder in Jaykit’s belly. Why can’t I be an apprentice now?
“You must be really good at hunting.” Lionkit sighed, clearly thinking the same thing.
“It’s just practice,” Berrypaw told them. “Look.” He crouched down. “This is how you begin.”
Lionkit’s belly swished against the ground as he tried to copy Berrypaw.
“Get your tail down!” Berrypaw ordered. “It’s sticking up like a bluebell!”
Lionkit’s tail slapped against the frozen earth.
“Now pull yourself forward, smooth as a snake,” Berrypaw commanded.
“You look like you’ve got wind!” Hollykit crowed.
Lionkit gave a playful hiss and leaped at her, rolling her onto the ground. She fought back, purring with amusement while Lionkit pummeled her belly with his hind paws.
They were so busy in their play fight that they did not notice the sudden noise outside the camp.
But Jaykit did.
Cats’ paws were pounding toward the camp entrance. Jaykit recognized the scents of Spiderleg and Thornclaw. The patrol was returning. But something was wrong. The warriors’ paws drummed the forest floor in a panicked rush, their scents bitter with fear.
Jaykit’s fur stood on end as Spiderleg and Thornclaw burst through the entrance.
Firestar and Sandstorm were on their paws in an instant.
“What is it?” Firestar meowed.
Spiderleg drew in a deep breath, then announced, “There’s a dead fox on our territory!”
CHAPTER 2
“Where?” Firestar’s meow was tense.
“By the Sky Oak,” Thornclaw mewed, panting. “It was killed by a trap.”
Jaykit heard loose pebbles clattering down the wall of the hollow. Brambleclaw was scrambling down into the camp, followed by Squirrelflight.
“What’s happening?” he called.
“Thornclaw and Spiderleg have found a dead fox,” Firestar explained. “Killed by a trap.”
“Male or female?”
“Female,” Spiderleg told her.
“Then there may be cubs,” Brambleclaw growled.
Jaykit was puzzled. “What harm can a couple of fox cubs do?” he whispered to Hollykit.
“Cubs grow up into foxes, mouse-brain!” she hissed back. “An adult fox can kill a cat.”
“The fox had the scent of milk on her,” Thornclaw reported.
“So there are definitely cubs,” Firestar concluded.
The warriors’ den rattled as Ashfur scrambled out.
“Where was this trap?” Brambleclaw asked. Was that anxiety Jaykit heard in his voice? Surely his father knew enough about the Twolegs’ traps not to be scared by them? No, Jaykit decided, it wasn’t anxiety, but something else, some darker emotion Jaykit did not recognize.
Thornclaw’s answer broke into his thoughts. “The trap is lakeside of the camp, not far from the Sky Oak.”
“The cubs must be near,” Brambleclaw guessed. “Their mother will not have wandered far from them.”
“What should we do?” Ferncloud had emerged from the nursery. “We can’t let the forest be overrun by foxes! What about my kits?”
“We must find the den,” Brambleclaw replied without hesitation.
“If the cubs are very young, they’ll starve without their mother,” Firestar meowed. “It would be best to kill them quickly.”
There was nothing malicious in the ThunderClan leader’s voice; Firestar had to do what was best for the Clan.
“What if they’re old enough to survive alone?” Hollykit asked curiously.
“Then they must be driven out,” Firestar told her. “They can’t be allowed to settle in our territory.”
“The cubs will be hungry by now,” Ashfur pointed out. “What if they’ve ventured out of their den already?”
“They might find the camp!” Ferncloud gasped.
“The camp will remain well guarded,” Firestar promised. “I’ll take Sandstorm and check the old Thunderpath up to the empty Twoleg nest. Brambleclaw, you sort out the other patrols.” The ThunderClan leader and his mate raced away through the prickly thorn barrier that shielded the camp from the forest.
“Stormfur, Brook!” Brambleclaw called. “Patrol outside the hollow! Ashfur, guard the entrance.”
Brightheart and Cloudtail paced in front of him. “What do you want us to do?”
“Head toward the ShadowClan border,” Brambleclaw told them. “The earth is sandy there, ideal for a den. Squirrelflight will lead you. Do whatever she tells you. There may be more traps, and Squirrelflight is the best at springing them. Take Cinderpaw, but keep her close to you.”
Cloudtail called his apprentice’s name, but the young gray tabby was already charging across the clearing.
Squirrelflight headed toward the entrance. Jaykit felt her warm pelt brush past him.
Brambleclaw called to Thornclaw and Spiderleg, “Go back to where you found the fox. See if you can trace its scent back to her den.”
Sorreltail’s kit Poppypaw and Mousepaw were waiting expectantly, hardly able to stand still.
“Can we go with them?” Poppypaw called.
“Yes, but do everything your mentors tell you,” Brambleclaw warned.
Jaykit felt their excitement crackle in the air like lightning as they headed out of the camp after Spiderleg and Thornclaw. His paws itched with frustration. Nearly all the apprentices were out hunting down the fox cubs. It wasn’t fair! He might be small, but he could still fight a cub.
“We’re not going to be left behind!” Lionkit announced, echoing Jaykit’s thoughts. “Brambleclaw!”
“Wh
at?” Brambleclaw’s voice was impatient.
“Can’t we do something to help?” Lionkit begged. “We’re nearly apprentices.”
“Nearly isn’t good enough,” Brambleclaw replied. He must have seen a look of disappointment on Lionkit’s face, because his voice softened as he added, “You, Hollykit, and Jaykit can help guard the camp. I’m taking Dustpelt and Hazelpaw to search the lakeshore. We need brave cats to make sure those fox cubs don’t come into the hollow. If you scent or see anything strange, send Leafpool to fetch me at once.”
“Okay,” Lionkit mewed eagerly.
He hurried back to his brother and sister. “We’ve got to guard the camp,” he told them. “In case the fox cubs try to get in.”
“You don’t think the fox cubs would really get this far, do you?” Jaykit mewed grumpily. “There must be a ThunderClan apprentice behind every tree out there. Brambleclaw’s just trying to keep us busy.”
Lionkit sat down with a bump, like a leaf that had been dropped by the breeze. “I thought he really wanted us to help.”
“You never know,” Hollykit mewed. “The fox cubs might head this way, and if they do I bet we could smell them first—especially with Jaykit helping.”
A surge of anger pulsed in Jaykit’s paws. “You’re just as bad as Brambleclaw,” he snapped. “Stop trying to pretend we’re important to the Clan when we’re not.”
Hollykit kneaded the ground with her forepaws. “We will be important one day,” she vowed.
Lionkit suddenly stood up and turned in an excited circle, his tail fluffing out. “We’ll be important today!” he declared. “We’re going to chase those fox cubs off ThunderClan territory ourselves!”
Hollykit gasped. “But if we leave the camp without permission, we’ll be breaking the warrior code!”
“We’ll be doing it for the good of the Clan,” Lionkit argued. “How can that be against the warrior code?”