“Newleaf has brought prey and warmth, but also more kittypets straying across the borders,” the ShadowClan leader announced.
Ottersplash lifted her muzzle. “They hide in their cozy nests all leaf-bare and forget that the woods are ours,” she agreed.
Just like Twolegs. Crookedjaw sighed. The field downriver was already filling up with their pelt-dens.
The ThunderClan leader stepped forward. “We intend to increase patrols.” He glared at Hailstar. “To warn off any intruders!”
Did he know about RiverClan’s plan to reset the boundaries? Growls rumbled uncertainly among the RiverClan cats.
Raggedpelt, ShadowClan’s deputy, responded first. “No ShadowClan cat has crossed your border in moons.”
Hawkheart called from the cluster of medicine cats. “WindClan has stayed to our side of Fourtrees!”
Hailstar’s hackles lifted. “Are you accusing RiverClan of crossing your scent line?”
Crookedjaw lashed his tail. In less than a moon it would be RiverClan’s scent line!
Pinestar shrugged. “I’m not accusing any cat of anything. But ThunderClan will be stepping up patrols from now on.” He flexed his claws. “Better safe than sorry.”
Why was Pinestar stirring up trouble at such a peaceful Gathering? Crookedjaw felt Bluefur stiffen beside him. “Why start accusing the Clans of trespassing?” he called. “We were talking about kittypets!”
Oakheart’s growl sounded behind him. “ThunderClan cats always were a bunch of kittypet friends!”
Adderfang whipped his head around, eyes blazing. “Who are you calling kittypet friends?”
Oakheart met the ThunderClan warrior’s gaze steadily. “Have you got something to say, fish-breath?”
Heatherstar called from the Great Rock. “In the name of StarClan, stop!” She looked up at the wisps of clouds streaking Silverpelt. Some of the stars were already hidden. Muttering, the Clans fell into a prickly silence.
The WindClan leader raised 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. Crookedjaw felt Bluefur shift her paws. ThunderClan must suspect that we’re planning something.
He was relieved when Hailstar padded to the front of Great Rock again. “Enough of kittypets,” he yowled. “RiverClan has a new warrior.” He nodded to his Clan. “Crookedjaw!”
Crookedjaw looked up. He’d forgotten he was going to be introduced formally to the Clans. He puffed out his chest as the Clans chanted his warrior name, and joined in to welcome Bluefur as Pinestar called out hers. But the cheers were halfhearted. The warmth of the Gathering had evaporated and it broke up in frosty silence.
Crookedjaw joined his Clanmates milling at the bottom of the slope. He paced around his brother while Tanglewhisker and Birdsong caught up. “Do you think Pinestar suspects we’re going to take back Sunningrocks?”
Oakheart narrowed his eyes. “He was acting strange, but how could he know?”
“Perhaps Goosefeather’s had a sign?”
Shellheart cut in. “Pinestar’s a wily old cat,” he murmured. “He’s up to something, but no cat’s crossed his borders. He’s just stirring up trouble for his own reasons.”
“What did Bluefur say?” Oakheart asked.
“Bluefur?” Why did he want to know about Bluefur?
“You were talking to her.” Oakheart shrugged. “I just wondered if she gave anything away.”
“No.”
“Didn’t you feel weird talking to her, knowing we’re planning an attack?” Oakheart prompted.
“My loyalty’s to RiverClan, not Bluefur.”
“I guess.” Oakheart’s eyes darkened. “But I kind of felt sorry for her.”
Crookedjaw bristled. “Don’t be soft on our enemies!” He felt a rush of pride. I hope Mapleshade’s listening.
As they approached camp, Crookedjaw guessed that something was wrong. They usually returned from Gatherings to a sleeping camp. But tonight anxious mews sounded from beyond the reeds.
A shadow moved on the path. “Have you seen Beetlenose and Voleclaw?” Petaldust was pacing outside the camp.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Hailstar pulled up sharply, the patrol stumbling to a halt around him.
Petaldust looked frantic. “They went to fetch you!”
Hailstar shook his head. “We came back by the waterfall.” He turned and nodded to Shellheart and Owlfur. “Go and find them before they run into a ThunderClan patrol. After tonight’s speech, Pinestar will shred them if he catches them on ThunderClan territory, truce or no truce.”
As Shellheart and Owlfur dashed away, Brambleberry pushed through the entrance to the clearing. “Is it the kits?” she called.
Crookedjaw raced after her. Mudfur was pacing in front of the nursery. Echomist and Softwing were huddled near him in urgent, whispered conversation.
“You’re back!” Echomist leaped to her paws.
Troutclaw sat bleary-eyed at the bottom of the slope. “So much fuss over a kitting.”
Brambleberry’s ears twitched. “Shimmerpelt’s kitting already?”
Echomist circled the medicine cat. “She started just before moonhigh. Lakeshine and Piketooth are with her.” The pale she-cat shook her head. “It’s too early, isn’t it?”
Brambleberry didn’t answer. “Has there been any bleeding?” she asked calmly.
“No.”
“Good.” Brambleberry padded past her toward the nursery.
“Do you need herbs?” Echomist called after her.
Brambleberry shook her head. “Only StarClan can help her, I’m afraid.” She hopped into the round reed den.
“I hope she’s all right.” Willowpaw was pacing around Softwing.
Lakeshine popped her head out of the nursery. “She needs water.”
“I’ll get it!” Willowpaw dashed to the reed bed. Brightsky raced to join her and together they pulled up a clump of dripping moss from the river’s edge. They carried it back to the nursery and passed it to Lakeshine waiting at the entrance.
“I need honey!” Brambleberry called from the nursery.
“Okay!” Birdsong headed for the medicine den.
Crookedjaw exchanged glances with Oakheart as Willowpaw passed him, her jaws dripping with another mouthful of moss. “Honey?”
“It’ll give her energy.”
Willowpaw’s mew was so muffled he could hardly make out her words. Crookedjaw turned to Oakheart, feeling helpless. “We could start collecting bulrushes to make a training wall for the kits?” he suggested.
Oakheart purred. “It’s a bit early for that.”
“There must be something we can do!”
Timberfur caught his eye. “The warrior code doesn’t cover kitting,” he meowed sympathetically. “We can just wait and hope.”
“Unless you want to go in and help,” Rippleclaw muttered.
Crookedjaw shuddered. “No thanks.”
Paws sounded outside camp and Shellheart ducked through the entrance, leading Owlfur, Beetlenose, and Voleclaw. “They made it to Fourtrees and back without meeting anyone.”
Crookedjaw’s whiskers twitched. “You should work on your tracking skills, Beetlenose.”
“Finding cats is different from finding prey.” Beetlenose sniffed. “Cats are smarter than prey—at least some are.”
“How’s she doing?” Echomist called into the nursery.
A low groan answered.
“She’ll be fine,” Brambleberry yowled. “Where’s that honey?”
“Coming!” Birdsong was trotting stiffly across the clearing, a lump of honeycomb oozing between her jaws.