He leaped up onto the fence and balanced there, staring toward the Twoleg nest. Was he looking for a fight? Perhaps he was hoping to send a message to the kittypets around there to keep out of ThunderClan territory. Should she offer to help?
No.
Bluefur remembered how angry Pinestar had been the last time he’d found her there. She didn’t want him to think she made a habit of hanging around Twolegplace. Besides, she was supposed to be guarding Featherwhisker. Treading lightly so that Pinestar wouldn’t hear her, she hurried after her Clanmates.
“There you are,” Snowfur greeted her. They were crouched beneath a wall. Rocks lay scattered at the bottom, and a break gaped at the top where the stonework had crumbled.
“The catmint’s over there.” Featherwhisker stretched his forepaws up the wall.
Snowfur’s eyes opened wide. “What if kittypets come?”
“Scare them off!” Featherwhisker leaped up. “It shouldn’t be hard,” he called from the top. “They think Clan cats eat bones and grow to the size of badgers when we’re angry.” Scrabbling over the top, he disappeared down the other side.
“Quick!” Snowfur sprang after him. By the time Bluefur scrambled up, Featherwhisker was streaking around the edge of the enclosed clearing on the other side.
“Let’s keep watch from up here,” Bluefur suggested.
Snowfur nodded. “I’ll stand guard at that corner.” She beckoned with her nose to where the wall turned a few tail-lengths away. “And you watch from there. We’ll have every view covered.”
As Snowfur picked her way along the crumbling stonework, Bluefur padded to her corner and sat down. Her heart flapped in her chest. This was her first warrior mission. She was in charge of getting Featherwhisker home safely with a supply of catmint that might one day save a ThunderClan life. They could be attacked by kittypets at any moment. Or a Twoleg might appear from anywhere. She looked down anxiously. Featherwhisker was digging through the thickly weeded undergrowth at one side of the grassy clearing.
“Is the catmint alive?” she called, but the medicine cat apprentice’s muzzle was too deeply buried in weeds to hear.
Snowfur was staring out into the trees, her ears pricked up. Bluefur scanned her own side. Through the leaves fluttering on the low branches, she spotted Pinestar. He was still on the fence. And beside him she recognized a cat with an orange pelt.
Jake?
Was Pinestar going to attack him? Bluefur tensed, waiting for the first shriek. But none came. The two cats seemed to be quietly talking.
“Get away!” Snowfur’s hiss made Bluefur jump.
“What’s wrong?” She scooted along the wall, hackles raised.
Snowfur was staring down at a tortoiseshell kittypet, who was gazing up at her with enormous golden eyes.
Bluefur arched her back. “We grow big as badgers when we’re angry!” she warned.
“And we eat bones,” Snowfur spat.
Yowling in terror, the kittypet whirled around and sped into the undergrowth.
Bluefur purred. “That was easy.” She bounded down into the grassy clearing and ran to tell Featherwhisker. “Don’t worry!” she announced. “We’ve frightened off the kittypet.”
Featherwhisker plucked his head from the weed tangle. “What kittypet?”
“The one threatening to climb the wall!”
“Threatening, eh?” Featherwhisker’s eyes glowed.
Bluefur fidgeted with embarrassment. “Well, it might have jumped up!”
Featherwhisker purred. “Thanks,” he mewed. “Can you call Snowfur? I need both of you to help me carry this catmint back.”
Bluefur dashed back to the wall. “Featherwhisker needs help.”
She led Snowfur back to where Featherwhisker had piled bundles of catmint on the grass, and scooped up a bundle under her chin just as Stonepelt had taught her. The fragrant scent made Bluefur’s claws itch. It smelled delicious. “I can manage more,” she offered. Featherwhisker dragged another frond from the plant, and Bluefur grasped it in her jaws.
“I want to try that!” Snowfur sounded impressed. She struggled to grasp two bundles as Bluefur had, securing them in place at last, and the three cats set off for home with the precious herb.
“You’ve brought loads!” Goosefeather was delighted when they dropped the catmint in the medicine clearing.
Bluefur felt a surge of pride. Her mouth was still watering from the tantalizing taste. It had been hard not to munch a leaf or two, but she knew it was too precious to waste.
“You must be hungry,” Goosefeather went on. “Go get something to eat.” He glanced at Featherwhisker. “You may as well go, too, and while you’re at the fresh-kill pile, you can bring me back a morsel to eat. I’ve had a busy morning.”
Bluefur glanced around at the clearing. It was scattered with herbs lying amid fallen leaves, and a patch of grass was flattened in one corner where the sun pooled. It was the exact shape of a plump medicine cat.
Busy? Huh.
Sunfall was nosing through the fresh-kill pile when they reached it. He looked up. “Pinestar’s just arrived, hungry as a starling,” he meowed.
Bluefur glanced at the ThunderClan leader, who was washing beside the nettle patch. He had made it back to camp before them—but he hadn’t been carrying two bundles of catmint.
“How did you get on with your first assignment?” Sunfall asked.
“Okay,” Bluefur mewed, hoping Featherwhisker agreed.
Featherwhisker purred. “They gave me enough time to gather plenty.”
Pinestar looked up. “You were gathering catmint?”
“Enough to see us through till leaf-fall,” Featherwhisker replied.
Was that alarm flashing in the ThunderClan leader’s eyes? Was he worried they’d seen him chatting with Jake?
Sunfall pawed a thrush from the pile. “I’m glad they were useful.”
“They scared off a kittypet,” Featherwhisker told him.
Sunfall dipped his head. “Well done, you two.” He sounded genuinely pleased. Bluefur puffed out her chest as Sunfall carried the thrush to Pinestar.
The ThunderClan leader turned it over with his paw and sniffed it, as though he wasn’t sure whether he was hungry anymore. Surely he had worked up an appetite trekking all the way to Twolegplace and back? Bluefur’s belly was growling like a ShadowClan warrior.
She picked a mouse from the pile and settled beside the tree stump. As she began to chew on the mouse, she looked at Pinestar again. He was nibbling delicately on a wing while Sunfall dozed beside him.
Just what had the ThunderClan leader been doing on that fence?
Chapter 17
A full moon lit the clearing, dappling the Clans. For the first time in moons, the great oaks of Fourtrees swished with leaves. Bluefur shivered, exhilarated as the fresh night breeze ruffled her fur. This was her first Gathering as a warrior—and her first where Clan grudges and rivalries seemed to have been forgotten, at least for the truce. WindClan looked sleek and well fed; RiverClan stank of freshly caught fish; ShadowClan’s eyes flashed brightly from the dark shade of the trees.
Mumblefoot was sharing tongues with Whiteberry, a WindClan elder, while the medicine cats huddled together, talking quietly. Adderfang and Stormtail sat with Ottersplash and Raggedpelt, while Poppydawn sat in a circle of apprentices, purring indulgently while they boasted.
“I climbed my first tree yesterday,” a tabby RiverClan apprentice meowed, flexing his claws.
Poppydawn blinked. “Do RiverClan cats climb trees?”
“I thought you just swam!” Sweetpaw mewed.
The RiverClan tabby fluffed out his chest. “I can do both.”
“Well, I bet you can’t catch squirrels,” Thistlepaw challenged.
“Yuck.” The RiverClan apprentice pulled a face. “Who would want to?”
RiverClan was acting as though their attack on Sunningrocks had not happened, and the ThunderClan warriors weren’t crowing about their victory. Yet as Crookedpaw headed toward her, Bluefur felt a prickle of unease.
“You fought well,” he mewed.
She flattened her ears. “I fight even better now that I’m a warrior,” she warned.
His eyes lit unexpectedly with excitement. “I’ve got my warrior name, too!”
“Crookedjaw?”
“How did you guess?” A purr rumbled in his throat.
“Because your tail’s still straight.”
A yowl sounded from the Great Rock. “Let the Gathering begin.”
Pinestar stood at the edge of the stone, moonlight gleaming on his pelt. Silhouetted behind him were Hailstar, Heatherstar, and Cedarstar. Pinestar stepped back as the Clans began to crowd beneath the rock, and Cedarstar took his place.
“Newleaf has brought prey and warmth, but also more kittypets,” the ShadowClan leader announced. “Only today, a hunting patrol had to chase a ginger tom from our borders.”
Jake? Bluefur watched Pinestar, checking for a reaction.
Ottersplash called from RiverClan, “They hide in their cozy nests all leaf-bare and forget that the woods are ours!”
Adderfang curled his lip. “It never takes long to remind them to keep to their own soft lives.”
The Clans murmured in agreement.
Hailstar padded to the front. “WindClan has increased patrols to remind the barn cats to stay off our land.” He looked expectantly at Pinestar.
Bluefur narrowed her eyes. Would Pinestar tell the Clans about kittypets intruding on ThunderClan territory?
The ThunderClan leader lifted his chin. “We intend to increase patrols”—he paused, suddenly glaring at Hailstar—“to warn off any intruders.”
Bluefur shifted her paws. Why bring up Clan rivalries now? Everyone seemed to agree that it was kittypets causing the trouble. She wasn’t the only cat ruffled by Pinestar’s challenge. Growls rumbled among the RiverClan cats.
“No ShadowClan cat has crossed your border in moons,” Raggedpelt, the deputy, snarled.
Hawkheart called from the knot of medicine cats, “WindClan has stayed to our side of Fourtrees!”
Hailstar’s hackles lifted. “Are you accusing RiverClan of crossing your scent line?”
Pinestar shrugged. “I’m not accusing any cat of anything. But ThunderClan will be stepping up patrols from now on.” He blinked at Cedarstar. “Better safe than sorry.”
Bluefur’s belly tightened as anger charged the air.
Crookedjaw stood up. “Why accuse the Clans? We were talking about kittypets!”
Oakheart growled from beside his brother, “ThunderClan cats always were a bunch of kittypet friends!”
“Who are you calling kittypet friends?” Adderfang whipped his head around, eyes blazing.
Oakheart met his gaze steadily. Confidence glowed in the RiverClan warrior’s eyes. “You live beside Twolegplace!” he growled. “You’re practically denmates.”
Poppydawn bristled. “How dare you, fish-breath?”
Heatherstar called from the Great Rock, “By StarClan, stop!” She looked up at Silverpelt, glittering through the leaves. Wisps of clouds were hiding some of the stars.
Muttering, the Clans fell into a prickly silence.
The WindClan leader lifted her muzzle. “Kittypets rarely reach our borders.”
Talltail called from below, “They’re too slow to chase rabbits anyway.”
“And squirrels,” Smallear added.
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Clans, but pelts were still ruffled. Bluefur’s paws pricked with frustration. Why had Pinestar stirred up trouble?
Hailstar stepped to the front of the Great Rock again. “Enough of kittypets,” he yowled. “RiverClan has a new warrior.” He nodded to his Clan. “Crookedjaw!”
As the Clans muttered halfhearted cheers for the new warrior, Bluefur tensed. Was she going to get the same reception as Leopardfoot and Patchpelt had? She closed her eyes as Pinestar announced her name along with Snowfur’s, relieved when the Clans grunted their approval, even if it was less of a welcome than they had given Crookedjaw.
As the Gathering broke up in a frosty silence, Snowfur brushed against her.
“Why did Pinestar try to upset the other Clans?” Bluefur whispered.
“He was only warning them off.”
“But why accuse them instead of the kittypets?”
Snowfur shrugged. “The kittypets aren’t here.”
That wasn’t good enough. There’d been no evidence of other Clans crossing the border. But the kittypets had been coming and going as though they owned the territory. Why didn’t Pinestar want to admit that kittypets were stinking up the border with their scent markers and scaring away prey that was needed to fatten the Clan after a long leaf-bare?