Excitement twitched through Violetkit’s pelt. She was going to meet Twigkit again. They could play cat and mouse. And she could show Twigkit how much she’d grown. Perhaps she’s grown too.
Needlepaw padded past a bramble and kept going straight.
Violetkit frowned. They’d traced the curve of the brambles last time and crossed the ditches. “Are we going the right way?” she ventured uneasily.
“‘Are we going the right way?’” Sleekpaw mimicked her, squeaking like a kit.
Embarrassment flashed hot through Violetkit’s fur.
Needlepaw glanced over her shoulder, exchanging a look with Sleekpaw.
Worry twisted in Violetkit’s belly. Was this a safer route to the ThunderClan border? She didn’t dare ask in case Sleekpaw made fun of her again.
They trekked on, Violetkit’s paws growing tired. She half hoped that Needlepaw would offer her another lift on her shoulders, but pushed the hope away. Sleekpaw would mock her if she let Needlepaw carry her like a weak kit.
Before long the needles began to grow squishy beneath her paws, turning to mud as they headed farther from the camp. Brambles turned to bracken beside the trail. The trees crowded closer, blocking out the moonlight so that Violetkit had to open her eyes wide to see where she was going. Had Alderpaw had suggested a new meeting place?
Tiny paws skittered over the path ahead. Needlepaw pricked her ears, her tail twitching. She bounded forward, and the bracken swished as she dived through it.
Violetkit halted, her nose twitching as she smelled mouse.
Sleekpaw stopped beside her and licked her lips as she stared at the bracken.
Needlepaw nosed her way out, a dead mouse dangling from her jaws.
“Nice catch.” Sleekpaw padded toward her. She sniffed the mouse.
Needlepaw dropped it. “Do you want first bite?” she asked the yellow apprentice.
Violetkit blinked at them in surprise. “I thought apprentices were only meant to hunt for the Clan.”
Sleekpaw snorted. “Don’t be such a cleanpaw.”
“The rest of the Clan is asleep,” Needlepaw pointed out. “I don’t think they’d want us to wake them up for a morsel of fresh-kill.”
Sleekpaw batted the mouse toward Violetkit. “Let’s pretend Needlepaw caught it for you. You’re Clan, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, no. I forgot. You weren’t even born here.” She hooked the mouse back with a claw and took a bite. “I guess I should eat it.”
Needlepaw bristled. “Don’t be mean.” She tugged the mouse from Sleekpaw. “Are you hungry?” she asked Violetkit, dangling the mouse from her claw.
“No, thanks.” Violetkit shook her head. Her throat was too tight to swallow. She just wanted to get to Twigkit and Alderpaw. Sleekpaw was making her nervous. “Are we nearly there?”
Needlepaw glanced around. “Nearly.”
Violetkit opened her mouth to taste the air. “I can’t smell Alderpaw or Twigkit.”
Sleekpaw padded across a stretch of muddy earth and peered between the shadowy trees. The fur rippled along her spine. “I smell them.”
Needlepaw pricked her ears. As she turned her head to follow Sleekpaw’s gaze, the bracken rustled and a long-furred gray tom leaped out.
Fear shrilled through Violetkit. Rogue! She backed away, her heart pounding in her ears. Paw steps sounded behind her. She jerked her head around and saw a she-cat slide from the bracken, her dirty white pelt glowing in the dim moonlight. Beside her walked a long-furred black she-cat. They were under attack!
A silver tom emerged and stopped beside the gray tom. “I thought she wouldn’t come.” He eyed Needlepaw distrustfully.
“Of course she did.” The gray tom brushed past the silver one and stopped in front of Needlepaw. “She’s brave, for a Clan cat.”
Violetkit froze. Panic gripped her chest. She glanced at Sleekpaw. Was there going to be a fight? But Sleekpaw watched the rogue calmly, her pelt smooth.
“Needlepaw.” The gray tom’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.
How does he know her name?
Needlepaw dropped her gaze. “Hi, Rain.”
She’s acting shy! As shock washed over Violetkit like cold water, needles showered from the pine above. She looked up. A shape moved along a branch, then slithered down the trunk and landed on the ground.
It was a white tom.
“Hi, Darktail.” Needlepaw nodded to him.
Violetkit saw the muscles rippling beneath his pelt. She began to tremble. Why have Needlepaw and Sleekpaw come here? How does Needlepaw know these cats? “Are these the rogues who attacked WindClan?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
Behind her the tom purred with amusement.
“WindClan attacked us,” Darktail growled.
Violetkit wanted to race to Needlepaw’s side, but her paws felt rooted to the earth. She gazed at Darktail, fighting back terror.
“Of course they did.” Needlepaw swished her tail. “Clan cats are so defensive.”
Needlepaw was acting like they were friends. Suddenly Violetkit understood, and disappointment swamped her. We didn’t come here to meet Twigkit! We came to meet them!
Sleekpaw hooked up a leaf idly. “Clan cats don’t like to share their land with anyone.”
“They want all the prey for themselves,” Rain sneered.
Violetkit realized that all the cats were staring at her. Did they expect her to say something bad about the Clans too?
“Is this the kit you told us about?” The silver tom padded toward Violetkit, his eyes flashing with curiosity.
“Yes.” Needlepaw strode past him and stood beside Violetkit, her chin high. “This is Violetkit.”
The silver tom sniffed Violetkit. “She smells like a Clan cat. I thought you said she wasn’t one of you.”
Violetkit stared at Needlepaw in disbelief. Did she really say that?
“She’s been living with us,” Needlepaw told him. She glanced at Violetkit. “This is Roach,” she said, nodding to the silver tom. “That’s Rain and Darktail.”
Violetkit followed her gaze to the gray tom and the white one.
“And that’s Silt and Raven.” Needlepaw introduced the she-cats.
Violetkit swallowed. “Why are they here?”
Darktail sat down. “We have to live somewhere.”
“Pinenose says you don’t belong by the lake,” Violetkit whispered.
Darktail snorted. “Pinenose sounds like a greedy cat who wants all the prey to herself.”
“She’s not!” Violetkit mewed defensively.
Darktail ignored her and looked at Needlepaw. “You were right. There is lots of prey here. We’re going to grow fat.”
“Are you going to stay here?” Violetkit could hardly believe her ears.
Roach narrowed her eyes. “Is there any reason we shouldn’t?”
Violetkit’s fur prickled with fear. The she-cat was staring at her as though she were prey. “This is Clan territory,” she whispered hoarsely.
Needlepaw flicked her tail irritably. “Why shouldn’t we share it? Why do Clan cats behave like they’re so special? They’re just cats, like these cats.”
Violetkit looked at the dark-eyed rogues. You’re nothing like Clan cats.
Sleekpaw stepped forward. “No kit can help where she’s born. Why should the Clans deprive other cats of good hunting just because they weren’t born in a Clan?”
Darktail’s gaze flicked over Sleekpaw. “Who’s this?”
Needlepaw dipped her head. “Sleekpaw. I told her about you and she wanted to meet you.”
“Can we trust her?” Rain padded closer, pelt prickling.
Sleekpaw raised her muzzle. “Of course you can!” she declared. “I think the Clans are wrong too. All their borders and rules just make more battles.” She nudged Violetkit.
Violetkit stared at her, surprised.
“You weren’t born in a Clan,” Sleekpaw told her. “Don’t you think it’s weird having so many rules?”
br />
Before Violetkit could answer, Silt leaned forward. “If you weren’t born in the Clan, why do they let you live with them?”
Violetkit blinked at her. “I don’t know.”
Darktail stared at her. “What’s it like living with Clan cats when you know you’re an outsider?”
Unease tugged at Violetkit’s belly. She wanted to be loyal to ShadowClan. She thought of Tawnypelt and Puddlepaw. What would Rowanstar say if he knew she was here? He was stern and distant, but she wanted to earn his respect. “I guess it’s okay.” She tried not to remember how lonely she felt in the Clan. How Pinenose’s kits ignored her. How she wasn’t allowed near Grassheart’s kits in case she passed on an infection. “They try to make me feel welcome.” Her breath caught in her throat. Don’t they?
Darktail leaned closer. “And yet you don’t.”
Violetkit backed away. How does he know?
Needlepaw padded around Darktail, her chest puffed out. “Rowanstar makes rules about who’s allowed in the Clan and who isn’t. But he’s old and set in his ways. He needs to learn that we’re all just cats. We all want the same thing—to hunt and live in peace. But he’s so busy defending his borders, he’s forgotten that.”
Violetkit’s thoughts whirled. Needlepaw sounded so certain. Was she right? They were all just cats. Perhaps the Clans were wrong. They acted like rogues were no better than foxes just because they came from outside the Clan.
But she’s not really one of us, is she? As she remembered Ratscar’s words, a thought flashed through her mind, chilling her to the bone. Is that how they all see me? She stared at the rogues. Does ShadowClan think I’m like them?
CHAPTER 6
Twigkit swallowed the last morsel of vole and licked her lips. She was bored, and even though the sun was high, it was chilly in camp. Did Alderpaw need some help? She knew Jayfeather would be irritated to see her again, but she’d given up worrying about his grumbling. She guessed he enjoyed it. She got to her paws, skirted the clearing, and headed toward the medicine den. As she passed the camp entrance, she could still smell the scent of WindClan around the thorn tunnel. Emberfoot and Oatclaw had left at dawn. In the days since the fight, Jayfeather and Alderpaw had cared for them as though they were Clanmates. Twigkit had been proud to help, fetching moss for their nests and bringing fresh-kill from the pile. Alderpaw had even let her mix herbs once when Jayfeather was out of the den.
As soon as the WindClan warriors’ wounds were healed enough for them to travel, they’d returned to their camp. Twigkit had guessed by the prickling of their fur as they talked of going home that they were worried about their Clanmates. The fight with the rogues had unsettled them. It had unsettled everyone. Bramblestar had been sending out larger patrols to hunt and insisted the borders be checked day and night.
“Twigkit!” Lilyheart called from outside the nursery. She had settled in a patch of weak sunlight. “Aren’t you sleepy? You were up before dawn. Come and have a nap.”
Twigkit flicked her tail. “No, thanks,” she mewed back. “I’m fine.” She didn’t feel at all tired. She’d done nothing all morning apart from wander around the camp: nosing through ferns in hope of catching a frog, and practicing balancing on the fallen beech.
Larkkit, Leafkit, and Honeykit were outside the nursery too, dozing lazily beside their mother, the cool leaf-fall wind ruffling their fur. Twigkit felt a pang of frustration. She knew from experience that it was pointless asking them to play with her. Even when they agreed, they ran so fast and got bored so quickly that she always felt disappointed. She preferred hanging out with Alderpaw. At least she felt she was useful in the medicine den, despite Jayfeather’s scowling at her like she was an unwanted flea. Briarlight loved playing moss-ball with her, and it was good exercise for the crippled she-cat. Perhaps she could play with her now.
She padded past the warriors’ den, scanning the camp for a good-sized scrap of moss.
“Do you really think she’s the cat that StarClan was trying to tell us about—the one who will clear the sky?”
Rosepetal’s mew drifted through the prickly wall of the den and made Twigkit stop. Who was Rosepetal talking about?
Mousewhisker answered her, a yawn in his mew. “For a special cat, she’s pretty ordinary.”
“I guess she is young,” Rosepetal conceded. “But nothing has changed since she arrived. Nothing’s gotten better. In fact, things have gotten worse, with the rogues coming.”
“You’re right. Besides, if she was special, wouldn’t StarClan have sent more of a sign?” Mousewhisker’s nest rustled. “I know they were found ‘in shadow,’ but that doesn’t seem like enough.”
Twigkit leaned closer to the den wall and pricked her ears. They’re talking about me and Violetkit!
“Perhaps the prophecy was about something else,” Rosepetal meowed thoughtfully.
“And finding Twigkit and Violetkit was a coincidence,” Mousewhisker concluded.
“Like you say, Twigkit does seem pretty ordinary. And until she learns to hunt, she’s another belly for the Clan to fill.” Rosepetal sighed. “Let’s just hope leaf-bare is mild. Heavy snows mean scarce prey. There may not be enough to get us through to newleaf.”
Another belly to fill? Anxiety pricked through Twigkit’s pelt. And what did they mean by ordinary? Had the Clan only taken her in because they believed she was part of a prophecy? Her breath caught in her throat. What if she wasn’t special? Would they ask her to leave? If there wasn’t enough prey during leaf-bare, they might! She imagined wandering alone through the forest, thick snows piling between the trees, a cold wind slicing through her fur. She could picture foxes watching from the undergrowth, their hungry gazes sharpening as they saw her. How would I survive alone?
Outside the nursery, Larkkit rolled over sleepily and stretched.
If only I were Clanborn. They couldn’t throw me out. She lifted her chin determinedly. I have to prove that I’m special!
Pelt twitching nervously, Twigkit hurried toward the medicine den. She pushed through the brambles.
Alderpaw turned. His eyes rounded with worry as he saw her. “Is something wrong?”
Twigkit forced her fur to smooth and blinked at him innocently. “No.” She wanted to run to his side and feel his comforting warmth against her. She wanted to ask him if she was special and hear him tell her that of course she was. But he was standing beside Jayfeather.
“Look at this, Alderpaw,” Jayfeather mewed curtly, ignoring Twigpaw’s arrival. “Can you see any signs of infection?”
The medicine cat was inspecting a cut on Birchfall’s paw, and Twigkit knew that he wouldn’t be pleased if she interrupted.
Alderpaw peered closely at the warrior’s pad. “It looks like a clean cut.”
“How should we treat it?” Jayfeather asked.
“Cobweb,” Alderpaw replied.
Jayfeather lifted his gaze sharply toward his apprentice. “Just cobweb?” Irritation edged his mew.
Alderpaw shifted his paws, his eyes flitting nervously toward the herb store.
“Just because there’s no infection now doesn’t mean one won’t develop,” Jayfeather meowed.
“We could wash in some marigold pulp before we dress it,” Alderpaw suggested hopefully.
“Go and fetch some, then!” Jayfeather turned his attention back to Birchfall’s paw, turning it gently with his own to closer examine the warrior’s pad.
As Birchfall winced, the brambles swished beside Twigkit.
Whitewing limped in, pain darkening her gaze. “I have an ache in my side,” she murmured.
Jayfeather dropped Birchfall’s paw and hurried toward her.
“When did it start?” He sniffed the white she-cat’s breath, then ran his muzzle along her flank.
“Around dawn. After I’d eaten a mouse.”
“Did it come on suddenly?” Jayfeather asked.
“Quite sharply, but it’s been getting worse all morning.”
“Have you vomited?” Ja
yfeather pressed his paw into Whitewing’s flank.
She gasped with pain.
“Well?” He padded around Whitewing and pressed her flank on the other side.
“No,” she rasped. “I don’t feel sick.”
“Come here, Alderpaw.” Jayfeather flicked his tail.
Alderpaw stared across the medicine den, a bundle of marigold in his mouth.
“Hurry up!” Jayfeather snapped.
Alderpaw dropped the marigold and hurried toward his mentor.
“Press here.” Jayfeather pointed to Whitewing’s flank.
Alderpaw lifted his paw slowly and pressed gently against her pelt.
“Harder!” Jayfeather ordered. “She won’t even feel that.”
Twigkit saw Alderpaw’s eyes flash with trepidation as he pushed harder into Whitewing’s side.
Whitewing winced.
“Sorry,” Alderpaw mewed quickly.
Jayfeather huffed. “If you apologize to a patient every time you hurt them, you’ll never get anything done. Now, what did you feel?”
“It feels hard beneath her pelt,” Alderpaw answered.
“Trapped wind.” Jayfeather turned back to Birchfall. “She ate her mouse too quickly. How should you treat it?”
I know! Twigkit leaned forward excitedly. She remembered Honeykit’s bellyache. She willed Alderpaw to remember.
But Alderpaw stared helplessly at Jayfeather.
“Chervil root!” Twigkit blurted. See! I am special!
Jayfeather’s whiskers twitched irritably. “Chervil is for nausea,” he snapped. “Trapped wind needs watermint. And no one was asking you. If you must hang around the den, keep quiet!”
Twigkit shriveled beneath her pelt, hot with shame.
Alderpaw brushed past her as he hurried toward the medicine store. “Don’t listen to him,” he whispered.
Twigkit hardly heard him. Why is Jayfeather so mean to me? She stiffened as a thought flashed in her mind. He talks to StarClan. Have they told him I’m not special?
“There are only a few leaves left.” Alderpaw reached deep into the crack and hooked out a pawful of dusty stems.
“Then we’ll have to collect more,” Jayfeather meowed briskly. “But not today. It’s too far to the lake. Give Whitewing all the watermint we have; then chew up some pulp for Birchfall’s cut while I gather fresh cobweb.”