“Then we’re agreed?” Sunstar glanced around the Clan.
Adderfang nodded. “It sounds like a good plan.”
“When word gets out that RiverClan gave up Sunningrocks without a fight, the other Clans will fear us all the more,” Thistleclaw added.
Bluefur’s tail flicked. She wasn’t so sure. There was something devious in the plan that pricked at her conscience. Perhaps she was just being oversensitive. Sunstar had come up with a way of avoiding a battle. That showed good leadership. But to threaten RiverClan in their camp? Elders and kits lived there. Hadn’t they learned from the attack on WindClan that camps were no place for a battle?
She shook the thought away. Sunstar would never let innocent cats be threatened.
She glanced at Thistleclaw.
He might.
“Then it’s settled,” Sunstar decided. “I’ll lead the patrol. Featherwhisker, Tawnyspots, Lionheart, Whitestorm, Thrushpelt, Adderfang, Stormtail, and Bluefur. You will come with me.”
Thistleclaw blinked. “Not me?”
“You stay and guard the camp with Tigerclaw,” Sunstar told him. “With so many warriors out of camp, we’ll need to leave behind a strong patrol.”
Bluefur felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Without Thistleclaw’s menacing presence, ThunderClan’s proposition would be more likely to appear simple and fair.
The rain stopped as the patrol set out, but the forest was drenched and Bluefur’s pelt was quickly soaked all over again. She pushed through the wet undergrowth after her Clanmates. When they emerged from the forest and skirted Sunningrocks, following the riverbank to the stepping-stones, a cold wind swirled around them. Bluefur shivered as it tugged her fur, and the thought of crossing the river made her even colder. Sunstar led the way across the stepping-stones. Bluefur stiffened when she saw one of the small flat stones wobble beneath his paws.
Goldenflower and Lionheart followed, hopping nimbly over the stones. Bluefur stood back to let the others push past her. Then she was alone on the shore with Thrushpelt.
“You can go first,” he offered.
Bluefur stared at the line of stones and the dark water swirling around them. She padded forward on shaking paws. Goosefeather’s prophecy rang in her ears as she paused at the water’s edge: Even the most powerful flames can be destroyed by water.
“Go on,” Thrushpelt urged.
“Wait!” Bluefur’s paws felt like lumps of wood.
“We have to stay with the patrol,” Thrushpelt warned.
Bluefur pushed herself forward, springing onto the first stone. Water splashed and gurgled around her. The blood roared in her ears.
Stupid Goosefeather!
She leaped to the next stone, swaying for a heart-stopping moment before she found her balance and gathered her haunches to jump again.
Stupid prophecy!
And again.
It’s probably not even true.
The final stone wobbled as she landed, and water washed over her paws.
Don’t let me drown!
She flung herself to the shore, panting.
Thrushpelt landed beside her a moment later. “That was easy,” he chirped. “I don’t know why RiverClan cats bother swimming.”
Bluefur marched away into the reeds.
The patrol had halted. As Bluefur caught up, she saw that RiverClan warriors were blocking their path, hackles up. From their dripping pelts, she guessed that they’d recently swum across the river. Did they really not prefer to use the stepping-stones? But even with their fur clinging to their bodies, the RiverClan warriors looked sleek and powerful.
Bluefur recognized Crookedjaw at the front of the patrol. Now RiverClan deputy, he had changed from the friendly young apprentice she’d met at his first Gathering. He still had his upside-down mouth, but he held his head high as though he were defiant about his strange expression; there was no longer any hint of humor or apology about the way he looked. She wondered how Oakheart felt about his brother being made deputy.
Crookedjaw unsheathed his claws. “What are you doing on RiverClan land?”
“We want to talk with Hailstar,” Sunstar told him.
Ottersplash leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “About what?”
Sunstar narrowed his eyes. “You ask me to share words meant for your leader?”
Ottersplash snarled.
Crookedjaw waved the warrior back with his tail. “You expect me to lead you straight into our camp?” he countered. “We haven’t forgotten what you did to WindClan.”
“Do we look like a battle patrol?” Sunstar challenged.
Bluefur leaned close to Whitestorm, whose pelt was pricking. “Keep your fur flat,” she whispered, “or you’ll spook them.”
Crookedjaw ran his gaze over the soggy patrol and shook his head. “It would take more than this to overrun our camp,” he conceded.
“We wish only to share words,” Sunstar pressed.
Crookedjaw nodded, eyes like flints. “Follow.” He turned and headed away through the reeds.
Bluefur didn’t like the soft, wet peat squelching beneath her paws, or the openness of the marshland as they left the cover of the riverside trees and headed deeper into RiverClan territory. The winding route took them through a maze of reed beds.
“It’s a wonder their claws don’t turn soft,” Thrushpelt whispered in her ear.
Suddenly Crookedjaw swerved to one side and squeezed through a woven wall of reeds.
The camp.
Paws tingling, Bluefur followed as her Clanmates squeezed through the camp entrance. The marshy clearing was dotted with dens. Made of sticks, they looked like herons’ nests, spiky and awkward and not nearly as appealing as a scoop filled with moss and feathers.
“Why do they live in such uncomfortable-looking dens?” Lionheart murmured.
“They float if it floods,” Crookedjaw snapped, overhearing him. “Wait here.” He left the ThunderClan cats and ducked into one of the tangled dens.
RiverClan cats blinked from the edges of the clearing, staring in surprise at their visitors.
“Lilystem! Look!” A small gray kit yelped over its shoulder, and a pale tabby slid out of the den behind him. The queen looked at the visitors in dismay until Ottersplash reassured her.
“They say they’re here to talk to Hailstar.”
Lilystem nodded and wrapped her tail around her kit, staying outside to watch.
Two of RiverClan’s senior warriors, Timberfur and Owlfur, prowled around the clearing, their eyes wary and their hackles up. Crookedjaw reappeared with Hailstar following. The RiverClan leader was round-eyed, his gaze curious. He did not speak but simply stared at Sunstar, waiting for the ThunderClan leader to speak.
Sunstar dipped his head. “Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan,” he declared. “We are taking them back.”
Hailstar unsheathed his claws. “You’ll have to fight for them,” he growled.
“We will if we have to,” Sunstar meowed. “But we thought we’d give you fair warning.”
Timberfur padded forward, pelt bristling. “Are you threatening us in our own camp?” He glanced at his Clanmates. Bluefur’s belly tightened. They were surrounded by RiverClan warriors. What if they decided to fight for Sunningrocks right then and there?
“We’re not threatening you,” Sunstar answered calmly. “We’re giving you a choice. If you keep off Sunningrocks, we’ll leave you alone. But any cat who sets paw there will be shredded.”
Hailstar stepped forward. “Do you really think we will give up the rocks so easily?”
“If you prefer a battle, then we’ll fight,” Sunstar meowed. “But are the rocks worth it?” He tipped his head to one side. “You have the river to fish. Your paws are too big to reach far into the cracks of Sunningrocks; your pelts are too clearly marked to stalk prey there. It is no use for hunting. So is it worth fighting for?” The ThunderClan leader made his proposition seem so reasonable, Bluefur waited for Hailstar to agree.