He sat down, relishing the cool breeze in his fur. Its chill, which announced the coming of leaf-fall, excited him. Prey would be fattening itself for the long, cold days ahead. He licked his lips, anticipating the richer flavors and softer flesh. He was no longer afraid of the coming cold. His hunting skills improved every season. Only a very cruel leaf-bare would leave him hungry now.
He glanced down, spotting movement in the shadows below. A silver pelt. Familiar? “Who’s there?” Green eyes glinted up at him, and he recognized them at once. “Needletail!” He purred as she climbed the rocks and stopped. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. How are you?”
The she-cat paced around him, her pelt twitching.
The tom could see from her distracted gaze that Needletail was upset. He stood and gazed at her warmly, hoping he could soothe her. “What’s wrong? Sit down and tell me about it.”
She paused and stared at him, sadness in her eyes.
The tom’s pelt prickled as he waited for her to speak.
“It’s too terrible,” she growled. The breeze ruffled her pelt.
The tom slid around her, smoothing her fur with his own. He felt her stiff posture soften. “Nothing can be that bad, surely?”
Needletail’s unease seemed to give way to tiredness, and she slumped into a crouch.
He hunkered down beside her and followed her gaze to the distant horizon. She felt bony beside him; she’d grown thin. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“I’ve been so dumb,” she mewed. “I trusted the wrong cat. Many suffered. I need to make it right.” She turned her gaze to meet the tom’s. “Will you help me?”
“I’ll help you any way I can.” He blinked at her eagerly, then paused. Suddenly, he could see through her glassy stare; shadows were buried in her eyes. Stiffening, he sat up and glanced along her silver pelt. A faint glow shone from within her. It was a glow he’d seen before, but not in Needletail. The fiery sunshine had disguised it, but now, as the shadows deepened into darkness, he could see the glow clearly. It lit her like swallowed moonlight. His heart ached with grief.
“Needletail,” he breathed. “How did you die?”
CHAPTER 1
“Hurry up, Twigpaw!” Ivypool’s mew rang though the trees.
Hush! Twigpaw flicked her tail irritably. A mouse was snuffling through the freshly fallen leaves of an oak. She could see it in the shadow of a root. It froze as Ivypool’s mew shattered the silence. Twigpaw didn’t move, relaxing only when the mouse once more began rummaging through the leaves.
She leaped and felt the soft flesh of the mouse beneath her claws as she slammed her paws down. After giving a quick killing bite, she lifted its limp body between her teeth and turned to join the others.
Ivypool was hauling a thrush—an earlier catch—from beneath a clump of ferns. Sparkpelt paced behind Fernsong, and Cherryfall lounged in a patch of late-afternoon sun. As Twigpaw reached them, she tossed the mouse onto the pile of prey they had collected.
Lionblaze sat stiffly, his gaze probing the forest as though searching for danger.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for.” Sparkpelt sniffed at him. “The rogues are gone and all the other Clan cats are in our camp.”
“Not all the Clan cats,” Ivypool pointed out.
“ShadowClan went home days ago,” Fernsong added.
“But we’ve still got half of RiverClan and a whole new Clan cluttering up our dens.” Sparkpelt fluffed out her fur. “I’m sick of sleeping under ferns so a RiverClan warrior can have my nest. In another moon, the ferns will have shriveled and I’ll be sleeping in the cold.”
“Reedwhisker needs your nest,” Fernsong reminded her. “He’s still recovering from being held captive by the rogues.”
“And he won’t be there much longer,” Ivypool meowed. “Mistystar says that RiverClan has nearly finished rebuilding their camp. They’ll be able to go home soon.”
“What about SkyClan?” Sparkpelt challenged.
Lionblaze answered without moving his gaze from the distant trees. “SkyClan will be gone soon too.”
“Where? They have nowhere to go.” Cherryfall got to her paws.
“The Clan leaders will decide at the next Gathering,” Lionblaze told her.
Sparkpelt’s fur prickled along her spine. “What are they going to do? Invent new territory for SkyClan to live on?”
“There’s not enough room around the lake for an extra Clan.” Cherryfall glanced at Twigpaw.
Twigpaw shrank beneath her pelt. Was the ginger she-cat blaming her? I found SkyClan and brought them here. This fact, which had made her so proud initially, had begun to peck at her like a crow. The camp was overcrowded, and where would SkyClan live? But my father is in SkyClan. I have a family now. Despite the happy thought, worry wormed in Twigpaw’s belly. Perhaps I was being selfish by bringing them to the lake. Perhaps there isn’t room for another Clan.
“Who’s going to give up territory to make room for them?” Sparkpelt stared at Lionblaze as though the golden tom should have an answer.
He shrugged. “Let StarClan decide.”
“StarClan wanted them back.” Cherryfall pawed through the day’s catch. “Let StarClan find them somewhere to live.”
Fernsong shifted his paws. “At least the prey is running well,” he meowed. “I just hope we have enough to feed everyone tonight.”
“Bramblestar sent out five hunting parties today,” Ivypool reminded him. “And RiverClan will bring prey with them when they return from working on their camp.”
“If they return,” Sparkpelt sniffed. “Last night Mistystar and her patrol didn’t come back at all.”
Twigpaw felt a twinge of irritation. “I thought you wanted them gone.” Why was Sparkpelt being so crabby? She was usually so positive about everything. “You should be happy they didn’t come back.”
Sparkpelt flicked her tail dismissively. “Let’s take our prey home.” She snatched a shrew and a vole by their tails.
“Good idea.” Ivypool picked up the thrush.
Twigpaw grabbed her mouse. At least with her mouth full Sparkpelt won’t be able to complain anymore. Lionblaze, Cherryfall, and Fernsong gathered up the last of the prey, and together they headed back to the hollow.
At the camp entrance, Twigpaw waited for the rest of the patrol to duck through the thorn tunnel. The branches scraped her pelt as she followed them through. On the other side, cats crowded the clearing, chattering like a flock of starlings. Scents swirled around her. RiverClan and SkyClan scent mingled with the smell of her Clanmates. And the faint odor of ShadowClan still lingered on the bushes around the edge of the camp.
As usual, SkyClan’s warriors lay around the apprentices’ den, soaking up the last of the late-greenleaf sun before its rays disappeared behind the cliff top. Two of their apprentices, Dewpaw and Finpaw, practiced battle moves in the clearing, while Reedpaw jeered fondly at her brothers’ clumsy leaps and rolls. Leaf-fall was coming fast; leaves drifted down from the trees at the top of the hollow, falling softly around them.
Twigpaw scanned SkyClan, looking for Hawkwing, Blossomheart, and Violetpaw. Her kin. When ShadowClan had returned to their own territory a few days ago, Rowanstar had allowed Violetpaw to remain behind so that she could spend time with their father and his sister. Twigpaw loved sharing the camp with kin at last, and when she couldn’t see their pelts among the others, she wondered, with a prickle of anxiety, where they were. She couldn’t let go of the fear that she might lose them again.