“Since when did deputies take over the Gathering?” muttered a voice below me. It was Tornear of WindClan.
Blackstar stood up, his white coat glowing in the moonlight. “Graystripe speaks for ThunderClan while Firestar is…away.”
I knew the ShadowClan leader was trying to find out where Firestar and Sandstorm had gone; I couldn’t tell him because I didn’t know, but I trusted Firestar when he told me that they would return, and in the meantime, I wasn’t going to let any of the other Clans suspect that I had no idea where my leader was.
“We all know that foxes are most aggressive in their dens, when they are protecting their cubs,” I began. My voice sounded as feeble as a kit’s squeak on the still night air. “They are more vulnerable when they are hunting and their attention is fixed on something else. We should strike then, and show them that the forest belongs to us and us alone.”
“You’re suggesting a battle against foxes?” sneered a cat from the back of the crowd. I peered into the shadows but couldn’t see who was speaking. “We’ll be eaten alive!”
There were murmurs of agreement, and for a moment I felt a flash of anger. Were these cats willing to lie around and do nothing while foxes stole our prey and drove us out of the place where our ancestors had gathered for countless full moons?
“I’m not saying we should confront them in a regular battle. We will use each Clan’s strengths to teach them a lesson,” I pressed on. “We have the advantage of more training, more skills, more knowledge of the forest than these intruders.”
I could see nods of interest, and a couple of my Clanmates called out encouragingly. There was no turning back now. I was about to lead all the Clans into a battle for survival in our own homes.
“I’ve picked up a scent!” Cloudtail hissed. His thick white fur stood out like a splash of snow against the withered bracken, but his difficulty in hiding had made his nose keener than most of his Clanmates’. The wind rattled the brown stalks around us, filling my ears with whispers, but at least it would hide our noise from our prey as well.
For once, this patrol wasn’t in search of fresh-kill. Instead, we were hunting foxes. Above our heads, the gray sky was darkening with nightfall, and the air was filled with the echoing calls from a pair of owls. This was the time when the foxes went looking for food to steal; tonight they were about to find out that they had become the hunted!
Keeping his head low and his tail straight up, Cloudtail followed the scent trail along the bank of the stream at the top of ThunderClan’s territory. I followed, with Mousefur, her apprentice, Spiderpaw, and Brightheart treading softly behind me. So far the trail had led toward the river, but I knew the foxes were no fonder of getting their paws wet than we were, so I wasn’t surprised when Brightheart picked up the scent on the far side of the border, in the stretch of RiverClan territory that led from the bridge by the gorge to Fourtrees. The ground here was covered with rocks and scrubby bushes rather than trees, a good place for rabbits and low-roosting birds. I let out a sigh of relief. I had hoped the foxes would come here to hunt; that meant the other Clans were in the right place. I was beginning to realize how much of my plan depended on the foxes doing what I wanted them to.
A rustle up ahead warned us that we were nearly on their tails. Soon, a flash of glossy red fur behind a hawthorn thicket revealed our targets.
“Mousefur, have you got the rabbit?”
The dusky brown warrior padded forward, carrying a young rabbit, still warm and blood-scented.
“Away you go,” I ordered.
Mousefur skirted the hawthorn thicket and let the rabbit’s hind legs drop to the ground. As she walked away, the limp bundle of brown-and-white fluff left a pathetic trail in the dust, and the air quivered with the scent of the kill. I led the rest of the patrol in step with Mousefur, under cover of some bushes. Foxes, foxes, I called silently. Can you smell this tasty meal?
The branches of the hawthorn thicket crackled as if something large were turning around underneath. I held my breath. Would the foxes take the bait? I was using a trick I had learned from Tigerstar, when he lured the pack of dogs right into the ravine by laying a trail of dead rabbits.
Brindleface had died in their attack; Mousefur was risking her life now, not just for ThunderClan but for every Clan in the forest. I had volunteered to carry the rabbit first, but Mousefur had insisted. She was faster than me, she said, adding that she had no qualms about dropping the rabbit and running for her life if the foxes got too close.
The softest crunch of sand told me that the foxes had picked up the scent trail and were beginning to stalk Mousefur. I hoped they were too dumb to wonder why a dead rabbit would be moving. I signaled with my tail to Mousefur, who was watching me with one eye, and she started to walk faster, keeping the rabbit dragging on the ground. The paw steps behind her sped up. Mousefur curved away from the ThunderClan border, heading for a copse of trees on the WindClan border. The foxes followed, and I had to break into a run to keep pace with them.
The trees loomed nearer above the scratchy bushes. Come on!
Where are you? I thought desperately. Closer and closer…Mousefur wouldn’t be able to carry the rabbit for much longer! Or the foxes might catch up to her…
“ShadowClan! Attack!” The still air was split with the sound of cats crashing out of the trees, led by Blackstar. I halted behind a lichen-covered rock with the rest of the patrol; a moment later, Mousefur joined us, panting and with her eyes shining.
“Perfect so far!” she declared.
Now it was time to let ShadowClan do what they did best: an ambush. We listened to them hurtling and shrieking through the bushes; there was a volley of startled yelps, then the sound of heavier animals plunging away, scrabbling over rocks. Just as I’d hoped, the ShadowClan ambush had frightened the foxes toward the river, where another surprise awaited them.
Once Mousefur had caught her breath, I raced out of the cover of the rock and followed the noise of the foxes and the ShadowClan cats. I burst out of the long grass that grew on the bank just as a line of RiverClan warriors splashed out of the water to meet the foxes. The RiverClan deputy, Mistyfoot, was at the head of the patrol, looking fierce with her fur slicked darkly against her back and her ears flattened.
The foxes—there were four of them, all full-grown—skidded to a halt and scrambled to turn tail, almost losing their footing on the slippery pebbles. Beyond them, I could hear ShadowClan plunging into the reeds, leaving a route clear back to Fourtrees.
“Come on,” I yowled over my shoulder, and my Clanmates leaped beside me as I jumped down to the shore and raced to join the RiverClan warriors as they set off after the foxes. With a deafening clatter of reeds, the ShadowClan patrol emerged and we charged in a screeching line through the trail of broken undergrowth and overturned boulders left by our prey.
A false scent-trail and two ambushes, just to chase the foxes back to their own territory? I can see you’re looking puzzled, little kittypets, but it was all part of my plan. We had to keep the foxes away from Fourtrees, and tire them out as much as possible, while the fourth battle patrol, from WindClan, took charge of the dens. Tallstar had agreed to send his best tunnelers, the cats who moved across the moor underground and were as comfortable in darkness as I was in sunlight, to flush out the cubs and trap them in the center of the clearing, where we had once held our Gatherings.
As the tops of the giant oaks appeared above the rim of the hollow, an anguished yowl told me that the foxes had realized they’d been outwitted. I found an extra burst of speed in my paws, and skidded to a halt at the top of the slope. Below me, a ring of furious cats encircled a bundle of terrified baby foxes, keeping their backs to the cubs as they snarled at the approaching adults. There were cats from all four Clans in the battle line; I felt a flash of pride as I saw my Clanmates Dustpelt and Brackenfur take a step forward, daring the foxes to come any closer.