“Fine, thanks. We’ve just made a new apprentice—Birchpaw. You’ll be seeing him at a Gathering before long, I expect.”
“That’s great. Who’s his mentor?”
“Ashfur.” Leafpool broke off as a hiss came out of the darkness. Her pelt pricked with the sense of danger.
“What was that?” Mothwing whispered.
They had reached the border of WindClan territory. The moorland stretched away from them on all sides, dotted with outcrops of rock and stunted thorn trees. Deep shadows lay in the hollows.
The hiss came again. “Leafpool!”
Leafpool relaxed as a lean grey shape slid out from behind the nearest rock and a familiar scent flooded over her. “Crowfeather!” she exclaimed. “You scared me out of my fur!”
“Sorry,” the WindClan warrior muttered. He gave Mothwing a searching stare. “I want a word with Leafpool, if you don’t mind.”
Mothwing looked surprised, and hesitated as if she were about to object. Then she nodded and let out a faint, knowing mrrow. Leafpool felt her skin under her fur flush hot with embarrassment.
“Sure,” Mothwing murmured. “See you soon, Leafpool.” She turned and vanished downhill into the darkness.
Leafpool almost called her back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Crowfeather. “This isn’t right,” she began, taking a pace back.
“I knew you’d come this way,” Crowfeather meowed urgently. “I followed Barkface’s scent trail, and then I waited for you. Leafpool, we have to talk. I can’t forget that night outside your camp.”
“I know, but—”
Crowfeather interrupted. “At first I thought you felt the same way as I do. But then you avoided me at the Gathering, and I don’t understand why.” His claws raked the tough moorland turf. “I can’t get you out of my head, Leafpool. The other day I missed a rabbit that practically leapt into my paws. I keep making mistakes—”
“I’m doing the same thing!” Leafpool exclaimed. “I tried to give Firestar nettle seed instead of poppy, and I mixed up ointment of yarrow and mouse bile. That was so mouse-brained!”
The WindClan warrior twitched his whiskers. “Ashfoot said I was as daft as a new apprentice.”
“Cinderpelt got cross with me, too.”
“Leafpool, I know you feel the same as I do,” Crowfeather meowed. “Somehow we have to be together.”
His scent, his nearness was doing something to Leafpool’s insides. She felt as if she were melting like ice in newleaf. “But I’m a medicine cat,” she protested, struggling against the urge to press her muzzle into his fur. “And I’m from another Clan. There isn’t any future for us, Crowfeather.”
Amber eyes burnt into hers. “Leafpool, do you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you?”
Leafpool knew what her answer should have been, but she couldn’t lie to him. “Yes, I do.”
“Then there must be a way. Will you meet me again? Somewhere we can talk properly?”
Leafpool dug her claws into the ground. Surely this couldn’t be wrong, this overwhelming need to be with Crowfeather? StarClan couldn’t be so cruel as to deny her this. “Yes, I will,” she whispered. “Where?”
“I’ll think of something. I’ll get a message to you.”
Suddenly Leafpool heard Cinderpelt’s voice, calling from further down the hill. “Leafpool, are you there?”
“Coming, Cinderpelt!” More softly, she added to Crowfeather, “I must go.”
Crowfeather’s tongue rasped across her ear. “I’ll let you know where we can meet. It won’t be long.”
Leafpool gazed at him until she knew her eyes would see nothing but his face all the way back to the ThunderClan camp. Then she spun round and pelted down the hillside as if a whole pack of foxes were behind her.
CHAPTER 9
“Hey, Squirrelflight!”
Squirrelflight looked up from the mouse she was eating beside the fresh-kill pile. Her fur was ruffled uncomfortably by a cold wind. The weather had been grey and blustery for several days and the promise of early newleaf had vanished.
“Want to go for a hunt?” Cloudtail asked, strolling up to her. “Brackenfur and Spiderleg are coming.”
“Great!” Squirrelflight replied.
Brackenfur was talking to Ashfur and the two apprentices near the thorn tunnel. He seemed to be giving them an order, waving his tail for emphasis. Then Ashfur led the two apprentices towards the elders’ den, while Brackenfur strode over to join Squirrelflight and Cloudtail.
“Ashfur is going to supervise Whitepaw and Birchpaw while they do their duties for the elders,” he explained. “They keep asking to work together.”
Squirrelflight could understand why. Whitepaw had been the only apprentice since Spiderleg had been made a warrior more than a moon ago, while Birchpaw had been alone in the nursery since the Clan came to their new territory. Squirrelflight remembered how much fun it had been to train with others when she had been an apprentice. Her best friend then had been Shrewpaw, who had died on their journey to the lake; she would have liked to train with Leafpool, but right from a tiny kit her sister had seemed to know that her path led to the medicine cat’s den.
Swallowing the last gulp of mouse, Squirrelflight sprang to her paws. “Where are we going?” she asked, licking a paw and swiping it over her jaws to remove the traces of fresh-kill.
“I thought we might try the stream close to the lake,” Brackenfur replied. “There’s good cover there, plenty of places for prey to hide. Where’s Spiderleg?” he added.
Before Cloudtail could answer, the long-legged black warrior pushed his way out through the branches of the warriors’ den and bounded across the clearing. “What are we waiting for?” he demanded.
“You.” Cloudtail flicked his tail over Spiderleg’s ear. “Let’s go.”
Wind thrashed the branches above their heads and almost flattened the ferns as the four cats headed towards the stream. Squirrelflight shivered as it tugged her fur the wrong way, but there was something exhilarating about it too, as if it would make her senses keener and her paws run faster. Gradually she quickened her pace until she was racing through the woods with her tail streaming out behind her.
“Wait for us!” Brackenfur called.
Cloudtail was running alongside her, his white pelt almost brushing hers, and Brackenfur caught up on her other side. With a yowl of triumph Spiderleg flashed past all three of them, his long legs eating up the ground.
“Don’t go too far ahead!” Cloudtail panted. “You’ll scare all the prey.”
Squirrelflight slowed down; the run had stretched her muscles and made her feel she had enough energy for anything. They caught up with Spiderleg near the top of the bank that led down to the stream; he twitched his tail, warning them to keep silent, and Squirrelflight saw that he had spotted a starling. He dropped into the hunter’s crouch, waggling his hindquarters as he crept up on the bird. He was ready to pounce when suddenly the wind changed, parting the grasses that had concealed Spiderleg from his prey. The starling let out a loud alarm call. Spiderleg leapt, but the bird fluttered away from his outstretched forepaws and vanished into a tree.
Spiderleg turned back to his Clanmates with his tail drooping. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Brackenfur meowed to the younger warrior. “It was just bad luck, the wind changing like that.”
Squirrelflight stood on the bank, listening to the clatter of the branches and the stream bubbling below. Downstream, between the trees, she could see the surface of the lake, grey and ridged as the wind swept over it. For a moment she thought she heard another sound, the faint cry of a cat in distress, but it wasn’t repeated, and Squirrelflight thought she must have imagined it.
Cloudtail came to stand beside her. “Can you scent anything?”
Squirrelflight shook her head.
The white warrior opened his jaws and tasted the air. Squirrelflight saw his ears prick up, and he exclaimed, “Intruders!”
&
nbsp; “WindClan?” Brackenfur joined them and peered down at the stream that formed the border. Even now, at the end of leaf-bare, the slope was covered with grass and fern, where invaders could hide as easily as prey.
“No, not WindClan.” Cloudtail drew in the scent again. “I don’t know who it is.”
Squirrelflight tasted the air. Cloudtail was right. There was definitely the scent of a cat—maybe more than one—but it wasn’t from any of the Clans. It was a pungent scent, with a hint of grass, and it was coming from close by.
“Rogues, do you think?” Spiderleg began to creep down the bank.
“Stay where you are!” Cloudtail snapped. “Would you go sticking your nose into a bee’s nest? We need to know what we’re dealing with.” He took a pace forward and called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
Squirrelflight scanned the ground that led down to the stream, muscles tensed for the first sign of danger. “If they’re looking for trouble, they can have it,” she muttered.
“We know you’re there!” Cloudtail called again. “Come out!”
A tussock of long grass at the edge of the stream parted. To Squirrelflight’s astonishment a she-cat with long, cream-coloured fur padded out.
“It’s Daisy from the horse place!” Squirrelflight exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Are you lost?” Privately, she couldn’t believe that even a kittypet could get lost here, when all she had to do was follow the lakeshore back to her home.
The she-cat cowered in the shelter of a bush and pressed herself to the ground as she looked up at the warriors. “Please don’t hurt me,” she mewed.
“I’ll chase her out,” Spiderleg offered, crouching down as if preparing to pounce on prey.
Cloudtail swished his tail. “Stand up, mousebrain,” he snapped. “Let’s find out what’s going on first.”
He padded down the bank until he stood face to face with Daisy. Squirrelflight followed him. The kittypet was a pitiful sight: her long-furred pelt was muddy and tangled with burrs, and her blue eyes were blank with exhaustion.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened at the horse place?”
Daisy blinked up at her, but before she could reply a mewling cry rose from the other side of the bush.
“Kits!” exclaimed Cloudtail.
He pushed past Daisy and shouldered his way into the long grass. Daisy followed him, mewing desperately, “Don’t hurt my kits!”
Dodging around the tussock of grass, Squirrelflight found three tiny kits huddled together, their tiny pink mouths stretched open in a wail of hunger and confusion. One was creamy-furred like Daisy, the others grey and white like the tomcat, Smoky, from the horse place.
Daisy circled her kits with her body, drawing them close to her with her tail. “Please help us,” she begged.
“Don’t worry, we won’t hurt any of you,” Brackenfur reassured her.
“What are you doing here?” Squirrelflight asked. “Surely your kits are too young to travel all this way?”
Daisy bent down and licked the cream-coloured kit. “When Floss had her kits, the Nofurs took them away.”
Nofurs must be Twolegs, Squirrelflight thought. “Why would they do that?”
Daisy shook her head. “No cat knows. They were so young their eyes weren’t even open.”
Cloudtail let out a hiss of anger. “Fox dung! If I’d been there I’d have clawed their stupid faces.”
“What good would that do?” Daisy asked, her eyes brimming with sorrow. “The kits would still be gone. Floss will never see them again. So when I had mine,” she went on, lifting her head defiantly, “I decided to leave before the Nofurs found them. I saw lots of cats going past our fence in this direction, and I thought some of you would be friendly.” She turned her huge, trusting blue eyes on Cloudtail.
The warrior bent his head to sniff the three little scraps of fur. The kits shrank away, shivering, and their mews grew shrill with panic.
“You will help us, won’t you?” Daisy went on. “Back there”—she pointed with her tail towards WindClan territory—“some cats drove us off.”
“That would be WindClan,” Brackenfur meowed. “Don’t worry, you’re in ThunderClan territory now.”
Daisy nodded. “That must be why they left us alone once we crossed the stream. But I don’t think my kits can go any further, and I won’t take them back. The Nofurs will steal them if I do.”
“We’ll help you,” Cloudtail promised. “You can bring your kits to our camp.”
Daisy blinked warmly at him. “Oh, thank you! You’re so kind!”
Brackenfur shot Cloudtail a look of surprise. “Four kittypets?” he murmured. “What’s Firestar going to think about that?”
“Firestar will understand,” Cloudtail replied. “He was a kittypet once, and so was I. Do you have a problem with that, Brackenfur?”
Brackenfur twitched his ears. “Of course not. But I wonder if this is the right time to take in more cats, when we haven’t finished exploring our territory.”
“Well, it’s now or never for these kits,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “We’re not going to send them along the lake into ShadowClan. Come on!”
“OK, let’s get going,” Cloudtail meowed. “Spiderleg!” he called to the younger warrior who had remained on watch at the top of the bank. “We need some help down here! You three can each carry a kit,” he explained, “and I’ll help Daisy.”
Squirrelflight picked up one of the grey and white kits by the scruff; it let out a wail of terror and started wriggling. “Shut up. I’m helping you,” she muttered through a mouthful of fur.
Brackenfur and Spiderleg each took one of the other kits, and Cloudtail let Daisy lean on his shoulder as they struggled up the bank and made their way slowly back to camp.
When Squirrelflight pushed her way through the thorn tunnel the clearing was deserted, but as she headed towards the nursery Birchpaw bounded up to her, carrying a ball of dirty moss from the elders’ den.
“What have you got there?” he asked, dropping the moss and peering curiously at the tiny bundle dangling from her mouth. “Oh, wow! Whitepaw, come and look at this!”
The older apprentice followed him out of the elders’ den with more moss. “Kits!” she exclaimed. “Where did you get them?”
Squirrelflight couldn’t explain with a mouthful of kit, so she padded on to the nursery, while the excited apprentices called the rest of the Clan to come and look. Ferncloud appeared from the warriors’ den and stretched her eyes wide when she saw what Squirrelflight and the others were carrying.
“Poor little scraps!” she gasped. “Bring them into the nursery. Whitepaw, go and fetch Cinderpelt. And Birchpaw, let Firestar know. Are you their mother?” she meowed to Daisy, who had stumbled up with Cloudtail pressed close to her flank. “Don’t worry. We’ll look after all of you.”
Ferncloud ducked into the nursery ahead of Squirrelflight and began pulling moss and bracken together to make a warm, thick nest. Squirrelflight gently set her kit down in the middle of the nest; it had stopped wriggling long ago and lay very still, scarcely breathing. Brackenfur and Spiderleg set down the kits they carried and Daisy lay down beside them, nudging them anxiously.
“Whitepaw says there are kits here. Can I see?” Sorreltail stuck her head into the nursery. When she saw Daisy and her litter she pushed her way through the branches to crouch beside the nest. “Oh, they’re beautiful!” she purred. “Here, let me help you.” She began licking the nearest kit, rubbing its fur the wrong way to warm it up.
Squirrelflight was surprised to see how interested Sorreltail was in the kits, until she noticed how plump the tortoiseshell was looking, and how her scent had changed. She must be expecting Brackenfur’s kits, she thought. That’s great! ThunderClan needs new kits.
With Daisy, Sorreltail, and Ferncloud all busily licking, the kits soon started to stir, letting out faint, whimpering cries. But Daisy didn’t look up until all three revived enough to nuzzle into her belly and start suckli
ng.
“You saved their lives,” she murmured. “I thought they were all going to die.”
The nursery entrance rustled again as Cinderpelt padded in, followed by Leafpool with a mouthful of herbs. Squirrelflight slid across to her sister’s side and whispered, “Do you think Sorreltail is expecting kits?”
Leafpool placed the herbs close to where Daisy was lying. “Of course she’s expecting kits!” she snapped. “Any cat can see it. Where have you been for the last half moon?”
Squirrelflight twitched her ears. Leafpool wasn’t usually so short-tempered. She felt strong emotion coming off her sister’s fur in waves, but Squirrelflight couldn’t make out what it was.
Cinderpelt edged past Spiderleg to reach Daisy and the kits. “What’s this, a Gathering? Any cat who hasn’t something to do here, out! Give us all room to breathe.”
With a last glance at the new arrivals, Squirrelflight left, along with Spiderleg and Brackenfur. As they emerged into the clearing, Squirrelflight heard Cinderpelt meow, “Daisy, I’ve brought you some herbs to strengthen you and the kits. Don’t worry. You’re all going to be fine.”
In the clearing, the apprentices were chattering excitedly, the soiled moss abandoned on the ground. Just outside the nursery, Cloudtail was reporting to Firestar, while several other cats crowded around to listen. Squirrelflight spotted Brambleclaw among them; the tabby tom looked disapproving—but then Brambleclaw always looked disapproving these days.
He wasn’t the only cat to seem troubled by Daisy’s arrival.
“How long are you going to let them stay?” Dustpelt asked the Clan leader.
Firestar twitched the tip of his tail. “That depends on a lot of things. How long do they want to stay?”
“I don’t think Daisy ever wants to go back to the horse place,” Cloudtail meowed. “The Twolegs took Floss’s kits away, so when her own kits were born she decided to leave in order to keep them safe.”