Mothwing was crouched on the bank above the pool, sorting through a pile of horsetail.
“Mothwing, you’ve got a visitor,” Mistyfoot meowed.
The golden tabby glanced up and then sprang to her paws with a mrrow of delight. “Leafpool! What are you doing here?”
“I brought you this.” Leafpool jumped down and laid her catmint stems in front of Mothwing, glancing back to thank Mistyfoot as the RiverClan deputy padded away.
“Catmint!” Mothwing exclaimed. “That’s great—I haven’t found any in our territory yet.”
Leafpool looked around to make sure Mistyfoot had really gone, and that no other cat was in earshot. This was her chance to pass on Feathertail’s warning. But her fur prickled and her mouth felt dry. Something about this didn’t feel right.
Drawing closer to Mothwing, she mewed, “Actually, the catmint is only one reason I came. I have a message for you from StarClan.”
Mothwing’s blue eyes stretched wide. Leafpool suddenly wished she hadn’t come. It might look like she was suggesting Mothwing couldn’t be a proper medicine cat because the warning hadn’t come to her directly. But Mothwing said nothing, just pricked up her ears as she waited for Leafpool to finish.
“I had a dream,” Leafpool told her. “Feathertail came to me.”
She hesitated as she saw Mothwing’s eyes flood with grief. Of course, since Feathertail had been a warrior of RiverClan, Mothwing would have known her well.
“She … she told me she couldn’t get through to you. She asked me to bring you a message. RiverClan is in grave danger from Twolegs.”
The RiverClan medicine cat sat in silence for several heartbeats, her eyes thoughtful.
“Twolegs?” she meowed at last. “But there aren’t any—” She broke off and sprang to her paws. “Leafpool, it’s been so quiet along the small Thunderpath that we haven’t bothered with it much. Maybe something has happened there. Will you come and check it out with me?”
Leafpool hesitated. She had meant to give Mothwing the message and go straight home. If she stayed much longer in RiverClan she would probably have to spend the night there. But it was important to help Mothwing make sure that her territory held no hidden dangers.
“Yes, of course I’ll come,” she agreed, pushing aside the thought of the scolding Cinderpelt would give her. She was relieved that Mothwing didn’t seem to blame her for bringing Feathertail’s message, with all its implications that Mothwing wasn’t a true medicine cat. She felt a rush of warmth for her friend and hoped Feathertail was watching them now, seeing how devoted Mothwing was to looking after her Clanmates.
Mothwing led the way upstream until she came to a spot where a single stepping stone broke the surface of the water. Crossing in two graceful leaps, she scrambled up the opposite bank and paused to wait for Leafpool.
“I was afraid you’d think I was talking nonsense,” Leafpool confessed in a rush, once she had jumped across the stream. With a surge of hope she added, “Does that mean you’re starting to believe in StarClan?”
Mothwing twitched her whiskers. “No, Leafpool. I don’t believe the spirits of our warrior ancestors come back to speak with us. Stars are just unseeing specks of light in the night sky, not dead cats looking down on us. We can keep our old friends alive with memories, but if they’re not here, they’re nowhere. That’s what I believe.”
“I know.” Leafpool paused as she picked her way around a patch of thistles. “But if you don’t believe in StarClan, why take any notice of Feathertail’s warning?”
The RiverClan cat slowed down to look into Leafpool’s eyes. “Because I believe in you, Leafpool.”
Leafpool shook her head. “That’s mousebrained! How would I know anything, unless StarClan told me?”
“Because you’re a good medicine cat. You observe everything around you. Somehow you’ve seen or heard or scented something and you know it means danger, though you aren’t certain how you know. And because you believe in StarClan, it all surfaced in a dream about Feathertail. Simple.” She turned and padded on.
Leafpool didn’t think it was simple at all. But she didn’t argue. At least Mothwing had listened to Feathertail’s message.
When they reached the Thunderpath, Leafpool glanced around curiously. She had never seen this place before, although Squirrelflight had described it to her. There was a wide space covered by the same hard stuff as the Thunderpath, with a small wooden Twoleg nest in one corner. A half-bridge made of narrow strips of wood jutted out into the water. Everything was quiet.
Mothwing stood on the edge of the Thunderpath and tasted the air. “Yuck. ShadowClan,” she meowed, reminding Leafpool that this was the border of the two territories. “And something else … ”
Leafpool stretched her jaws wide. There was a faint, harsh taint to the air that she had not scented for a long time. She felt the fur on her neck bristle. “Monsters have been here,” she mewed.
Mothwing met her anxious gaze. “But not recently. There’s stale Twoleg scent too, though that reek from ShadowClan nearly covers it. Honestly, Leafpool, I don’t think we can call that ‘grave danger.’”
“Then what could the danger be?” Leafpool wondered.
Mothwing twitched the tip of her tail. “You can never tell what Twolegs will do next. Maybe it hasn’t happened yet.”
Turning away from the Thunderpath, she began to pad along the lakeshore, pausing once or twice to taste the water. “Remember that pool with the dead rabbit?” she called over her shoulder. “How it gave all the elders a bellyache? I won’t make that mistake again. But the water here’s fine.”
When they reached the stream she checked the water there, too, before they followed it back to the RiverClan camp. She ended by taking Leafpool back to her den, where both cats drank from the little pool. The water was cool and sweet-tasting, and there was no scent of anything unusual.
The sun was going down, and shadows lay thickly over the pool and stretched into Mothwing’s den. As Leafpool had feared, it was too late to go home. “Would you like to stay the night?” Mothwing offered. “You’ll never get back to ThunderClan before dark.”
“Thanks, I would.” Leafpool knew Cinderpelt would have missed her long ago, and she knew she would have to answer some awkward questions when she got back. But it would be safer to stay here for the night and go home in the early morning, especially if there might be badgers about.
A RiverClan apprentice brought Mothwing a plump fish, enough for both cats to share. As Leafpool settled down to sleep beside Mothwing in her nest of moss and bracken, she murmured, “You will remember Feathertail’s warning, won’t you? You’ll keep your eyes open for trouble?”
“What?” Mothwing muttered sleepily. “Oh, yes, Leafpool. Of course I will. Don’t worry.”
But Leafpool couldn’t help worrying. Without having heard the warning from Feathertail herself, it would be easy for Mothwing to forget, or decide that it wasn’t important. And Leafpool was certain that trouble was coming.
CHAPTER 7
Squirrelflight paused beside a clump of bracken, drawing in the scent of the fresh green fronds. Sunlit dew sparkled on every blade of grass, and the whole forest seemed to be waking up after the long sleep of leaf-bare.
Another deep breath brought the scent of cat. Not ThunderClan, and not ShadowClan either, though she was near their border. Squirrelflight froze, glancing from side to side. A bracken frond waved, and she caught a glimpse of a strange tabby cat creeping along with its belly fur brushing the ground.
Squirrelflight thought at first that a rogue had wandered into their territory; a heartbeat later she realised it must be one of the kittypets she and Brambleclaw had fought with when they first explored the land around the lake. Their Twoleg nest was in ShadowClan’s territory, but this crowfood-eating tabby wouldn’t give a mouse tail for Clan boundaries.
Dropping into the hunter’s crouch, Squirrelflight started to creep up on it, but she hadn’t taken more than a couple of pawsteps w
hen she heard the rest of her patrol approaching: Thornclaw, Ashfur, and Sootfur. Mousebrains! she thought. Clumping around like horses!
She warned them to keep back with a flick of her tail, but the tabby had already heard them. Squirrelflight saw the brown shape streak out of the middle of the bracken, and she sprang forward in pursuit. Behind her, she heard Ashfur yowl, “Hey, Squirrelflight, stop!” but she ignored him.
She dashed after the intruder, determined to give it a well-clawed ear to teach it not to come back, but the kittypet had too good a start. “Mouse dung!” she spat when she lost it in a patch of thick undergrowth. She turned back to join the rest of the patrol. To her surprise they were standing bunched together, staring at her with worried looks on their faces.
“Squirrelflight, you mousebrain!” Sootfur called out.
Before she reached the others, Brambleclaw shouldered his way through the undergrowth, with Sandstorm just behind him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“I spotted one of those kittypets from ShadowClan territory.” Squirrelflight was puzzled and angry at how hostile he sounded. What was he accusing her of now? “We’re supposed to chase trespassers on a border patrol, right?”
“Right,” meowed Brambleclaw. “What you’re not allowed to do is cross the border into another Clan’s territory. Suppose a ShadowClan patrol had seen you?”
“But I didn’t …” Squirrelflight’s voice trailed off. Suddenly she spotted the dead tree that was one of the boundary markers. She must have chased the kittypet straight past it. “I didn’t notice any scent marks,” she argued, padding forward until she was on the right side of the border again.
“The markings are really faint.” Ashfur had been over to sniff at the roots of the dead tree. “Leave her alone, Brambleclaw. Any cat could have made the same mistake.”
Sandstorm gave Ashfur a look from narrowed green eyes. “Squirrelflight can answer for herself,” she mewed. “She’s not usually lost for words.”
Squirrelflight blinked gratefully at Ashfur. She didn’t need him or any cat to spring to her defence, but it was good of him to support her. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t notice.”
“The markings are faint,” Thornclaw agreed. “I don’t think ShadowClan have renewed them for days.”
“What’s the matter with them?” Sandstorm wondered. “ShadowClan are usually the first to make sure that no cat crosses their borders.”
Squirrelflight shrugged. “If they can’t be bothered to set their markers, they can’t object if some cat crosses the boundary by mistake.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Brambleclaw sighed. “But for StarClan’s sake, be a bit more careful next time.”
“She will be.” Ashfur sprang to Squirrelflight’s defence again, unaware of the furious look she gave him this time. She was even angrier when she noticed a surprised glance from Sandstorm, as if her mother couldn’t believe she was depending on Ashfur for protection. “Anyway, Brambleclaw,” the grey tomcat went on, “it’s not your place to tell her what to do.”
“It’s any cat’s place,” Brambleclaw retorted, his neck fur starting to bristle. “Do you want trouble with ShadowClan?”
Ashfur unsheathed his claws. “That’s not the point!”
“Hang on!” Squirrelflight protested. “I don’t want—”
“That’s enough.” Sandstorm stalked over and confronted the three quarrelling cats. “Let’s get back to camp before ShadowClan cats do turn up and find us ruffling each other’s fur.”
She stalked off in the direction of the camp. Sootfur and Thornclaw followed, but Brambleclaw and Ashfur hesitated, still giving each other an angry stare. Squirrelflight felt thoroughly exasperated with both of them.
“You go on ahead,” she snapped to Ashfur.
Ashfur looked startled. “Oh—OK. I’ll see you back at camp.” With a frustrated lash of his tail he padded off after the others.
“You can’t blame him for wanting to take care of you.” Brambleclaw’s words could have been approving, but his tone was critical as if he were remembering all the times on their journey when Squirrelflight had been furious with him for trying to protect her.
“At least there’s one cat I know I can trust with my life!” she hissed.
Brambleclaw’s eyes widened. “Only one, Squirrelflight?”
“Yes!” she spat back. She felt so far away from him now it was impossible to remember she had once looked at him with warmth. “At least Ashfur doesn’t keep going off with a cat from another Clan—a cat who can’t be trusted!”
The hurt in Brambleclaw’s eyes faded, to be replaced by rage. “That’s what you want, is it? A loyal warrior to pad after you and smooth all the thorns out of your path? I never used to think you were like that. I believed better of you.”
“Believe what you like!”
Brambleclaw drew his lips back in the beginnings of a snarl. Before he could speak, the undergrowth behind Squirrelflight rustled. She whirled around to see that Ashfur had come back.
“What do you want now?” she growled.
Ashfur looked bewildered. “I’m sorry. I wondered why you didn’t catch up, so I came back to make sure you’re OK.”
Squirrelflight sighed and let the fur lie flat on her neck. Ashfur would have to learn that she could stand up for herself, but at least he was straightforward. He said what he meant, and no cat could doubt his loyalty to his Clan. If Brambleclaw was a deep pool shadowed by forest trees, Ashfur was like the lake, glittering in sunlight. Squirrelflight suddenly found herself longing for the sun.
“I’m fine,” she meowed, touching her muzzle to Ashfur’s. “Let’s go.”
She headed away from the border, with Ashfur at her side. But all the while she was conscious of Brambleclaw’s amber gaze upon her, until the ferns closed around her and she was hidden from his sight.
When Squirrelflight returned to camp, the stone hollow was full of activity. Cloudtail and Brightheart were just emerging from the warriors’ den; their daughter, Whitepaw, dashed across the clearing to join them, meowing loudly. The elders had already taken their places at the foot of the rocks beneath the Highledge. Firestar was making his way down the stony path from his den to the floor of the hollow.
“What’s happening?” Squirrelflight asked as more warriors appeared from their den.
“Firestar just called a meeting.” Leafpool spoke behind her. Squirrelflight thought she looked subdued, as if she was still recovering from the fierce scolding Cinderpelt had given her for staying out all night in RiverClan. “It’s time for Birchkit to be made an apprentice.”
“Great!” Squirrelflight gave a little bounce of delight. For the first time she noticed Ferncloud at the entrance of the nursery, vigorously grooming Birchkit’s pelt while the young cat wriggled with excitement. Dustpelt sat close by, looking ready to burst with pride. “The first new apprentice in our new home. Who’s going to mentor him?”
“I have no idea,” Leafpool meowed, beginning to cheer up. She glanced around the clearing as if she were trying to guess who the new mentor would be.
Squirrelflight and Ashfur found places among the other cats grouped in a semicircle around Firestar. She would have liked to mentor Birchkit herself, but she suspected she hadn’t been a warrior long enough to be chosen, when so many more experienced cats were without an apprentice. Besides, Sandstorm followed Firestar down the rocks from his den, and she gave Squirrelflight a hard look as she padded past to sit beside Brackenfur. She must have told Firestar what had happened on the ShadowClan border. Sighing, Squirrelflight guessed she would have to start thinking before she acted if she wanted to be trusted with the responsibility of mentoring an apprentice.
When all the cats had gathered, Firestar summoned Birchkit with a flick of his tail. The young grey cat padded forward; although he was shaking with nerves he stood before Firestar with head and tail held high. His pelt gleamed in the sunlight and his eyes shone. Squirrelflight felt
a rush of admiration for him. His littermates, Larchkit and Hollykit, had died from starvation when the Twolegs tore up the old forest. Birchkit had lost his home too, but he had shown great courage for such a young cat.
Squirrelflight noticed Brambleclaw, crouched by himself a couple of tail-lengths away from her; ambition flared in his amber eyes as he gazed at Birchkit. She could see how desperately he wanted the young cat as his apprentice, and she wondered why he should care so much more than the other warriors.
Then claws gripped deep in her belly as the answer came to her. Warriors could not be chosen as deputy unless they had mentored an apprentice. With Greystripe’s fate still unknown, it couldn’t be long before Firestar had to name another cat in his place. If Brambleclaw were to stand a chance, he had to have an apprentice. And there were no more kits in the Clan.
Seeing Brambleclaw now, focused on Birchkit as if the young cat were a particularly juicy piece of fresh-kill, Squirrelflight couldn’t help asking herself what Brambleclaw would be prepared to do to feed such fierce ambition. Could he really become a killer like his father, Tigerstar?
Firestar waited for the Clan to grow silent. “This is a good day for ThunderClan,” he began. “By naming apprentices, we show that ThunderClan will survive and remain strong. Birchkit, from now on you will be known as Birchpaw.”
Birchpaw nodded enthusiastically.
“Ashfur, you are ready for an apprentice,” Firestar continued. “You will be Birchpaw’s mentor.”
Squirrelflight saw Brambleclaw’s eyes blaze in disbelief. His muscles tensed as if he were about to spring to his paws, but he held himself still. Not even the most ambitious cat would challenge a leader’s choice of mentor.
Squirrelflight turned to look at Ashfur. Pride and happiness shone in his eyes as Birchpaw scampered towards him.
“Ashfur,” Firestar continued, “you too have known loss and grief, and found the strength to deal with them.”
He was talking about the death of Brindleface, Ashfur’s mother. She had been murdered by Tigerstar and left as bait for the dog pack to lure them into the old ThunderClan camp. All that had happened before Squirrelflight was born, but every cat in the Clan had heard the story over and over again.