We’re as hungry as the rest of the Clan, and we need our strength to hunt. It makes no sense to let the warriors starve when they have to look after every other cat. I caught this squirrel easily; we’ll catch plenty more.
Longtail bent his head and bit into the fresh-kill. Above him, a cold wind rattled the trees, and the rocks loomed gray and silent against the heavy sky.
Pelting rain made the sides of the ravine slippery, and the cats picked their way carefully down with their catch gripped in their mouths. Longtail had been lucky with the squirrel; prey had been much harder to find after that, and all they brought were two mice and an old, tough-looking blackbird. Neither cat looked each other in the eye as they dragged their fresh-kill over the muddy ground to the gorse tunnel. Darkstripe hung back, forcing Longtail to go first. The thorns seemed sharper against his pelt than before, and a feather from the blackbird had worked its way into his throat, making him choke and splutter through his mouthful. He pushed his way into the clearing and looked around, expecting to see a row of hungry cats waiting by the fresh-kill pile.
The clearing was empty, the ground shiny and bouncing with raindrops. Darkstripe joined Longtail and they stood side by side with their catch by their front paws. Before either of them could
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speak, a wail rose from the ferns around Spottedleaf’s den.
“Poppydawn! No! Don’t leave me!”
It was Rosetail, her daughter.
“It is her time to join StarClan. Our warrior ancestors are waiting for her.” That was Spottedleaf, her voice muffled by grief.
Longtail looked at Darkstripe, feeling a wave of panic rise inside him. “We’re too late! Poppydawn is dead! Spottedleaf said she needed to eat in order to fight the sickness, but we didn’t come back in time! We should never have eaten that squirrel!”
“Shut up!” Darkstripe hissed. “What’s the matter with you?
Poppydawn was going to die anyway. We should let the old, useless cats go if it means the warriors survive. The Clan depends on us now, not them.”
“We killed her…”
“We did not! Greencough killed her. She was old and weak.
We are the important cats; we should eat first. Do you want to do what’s best for your Clan?”
“Of course…”
“Then you’ll keep your mouth shut and let your Clanmates be grateful for what we brought back. There’s one fewer mouth to feed now. Why spoil everything by trying to blame yourself for Poppydawn?”
But Poppydawn might still be alive if we had come back earlier—if we had come back with the squirrel.
Darkstripe was peering at Longstripe as if he could read his thoughts. “You’ll keep quiet, won’t you?” he hissed, and this time there was a hint of menace behind his eyes. “After all, I saw you eat that squirrel. I’ll tell them what you did, how you insisted on stealing prey from the elders, how you refused to let me bring it back to the camp.”
A hard, cold lump froze inside Longtail. “There’s nothing to tell,” he growled back. “We were sent to hunt for prey, and that’s what we’ve done. No other warrior could have done better.”
As he bent his head to pick up the blackbird and carry it to the fresh-kill pile, a waft of warm air ruffled his fur and a familiar scent brushed over him. Longtail lifted his head in horror.
Poppydawn! I’m so sorry!
Too late, came the silent reply. Too late.
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-
Code Four
PREY IS KILLED ONLY TO BE EATEN.
GIVE THANKS TO STARCLAN FOR ITS LIFE.
When you eat, whom do you thank for your food?
It was the clear-sighted leadership of Lilystar of ShadowClan, moons ago, that taught us to respect our prey and helped us to see how much we owe to our warrior ancestors for training us and bringing us to a place where we can live like this.
Mouse Games
“Over here, Fallowkit!” Driftkit dodged around a fallen branch and poked his head over the top to call to his sister.
Fallowkit popped up and shoved the mouse they were playing with toward him. Its limp body rolled over, leaving a faint mark on the boggy ground. The snow had only just melted and the ShadowClan camp was so wet, the kits’ mother, Splashnose, spent every night licking the mud out of their belly fur. Driftkit scrambled onto the branch and launched himself off, landing flat on the mouse. It felt squishy under his paws, and it smelled of dirt and snowmelt.
Driftkit knew he was going to be the best ShadowClan warrior ever! He’d scratch out those scrawny WindClan cats’ eyes, he’d chase the fat RiverClan cats until their legs fell off, he’d creep up on the ThunderClan cats and claw their ears…
“Driftkit! What in the name of StarClan are you doing to that mouse?”
Driftkit fell off the mouse in surprise. A ginger-and-white she-cat with a bright orange tail was stalking toward him. “I was just practicing being a warrior, Sunnytail,” Driftkit stammered to the ShadowClan deputy.
Sunnytail stared down at the mouse. “That’s not fit to eat now! Does Splashnose know what you’re doing?”
Fallowkit padded up, her light brown fur standing on end.
“She’s in the nursery. She told us to go outside and play.”
Sunnytail shook her head. “This was the last piece of fresh-kill we had. Now the Clan will have to go hungry until the next hunting patrol.”
“Sorry,” Driftkit muttered. He wished a giant hole would open up in front of him so he could jump in and not be yelled at anymore. He was just having fun. He’d been stuck inside the den for moons because of the snow, and his legs felt as if they could run all the way to the Thunderpath that the warriors talked about.
The branches around the nursery rustled and a dusty-brown tabby with a white streak on her muzzle appeared. “What’s the matter?” she called.
“Driftkit and Fallowkit have been playing with the last piece of fresh-kill, Splashnose,” Sunnytail replied.
“I’m sure they didn’t know it was the last piece…” Splashnose began.
“They must have known!” Sunnytail argued. “There would have been nothing left!”
“Is this true?” A pale gray cat padded up, her tail kinked questioningly over her back. She looked from her deputy to Driftkit. “Did you take the last of our food?”
Driftkit tried to make a hole appear in front of his paws by staring at the ground really hard. Just his luck that Lilystar had overheard. “I guess,” he whispered to the ShadowClan leader.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Splashnose put in, but Lilystar hushed her with a flick of her tail. When she spoke, her tone was unexpectedly gentle.
“Driftkit, you should not have taken that mouse to play with. Prey is too scarce to be wasted. That mouse did not die to become a toy, but to keep us alive after a long leaf-bare. Do you understand?”
Driftkit nodded without looking up. Beside him, Fallowkit squeaked, “Yes, Lilystar.”
Suddenly a shadow swept over the clearing, and there was a strange rushing sound above Driftkit’s head.
“Owl! Run!” screeched Splashnose, and the cats bolted for safety.
Driftkit was too terrified to move. He stared up at the huge white bird, which swooped closer and closer. He could see every feather on its chest, its sharp hooked talons, the ring of yellow around each eye as it glared down at him. He gulped, waiting to be swept up into the air.
The owl folded its wings at the last moment and dropped with its talons outstretched. Nearer, nearer… then it was pulling itself back up into the air with its mighty wings. Driftkit opened his eyes. He was still on the ground. The mouse had vanished; when he looked up, he could see its battered body dangling from the owl’s claws, getting smaller and smaller as the bird disappeared over the trees.