Hollypaw glanced at her brother, surprised to hear him so scornful. After all, he’d had his fair share of heartache. Does he ever think about Heatherpaw? If only Honeyfern were looking at him instead. A relationship with her would tie him even more tightly to the Clan. She remembered with a pang how close his love for Heatherpaw had come to tearing him away from them.
Had he truly forgotten her? He certainly never mentioned her.
That was a good sign. But then, he hadn’t mentioned her when he was sneaking off to meet her in the tunnels.
“Cats shouldn’t get so sappy over each other,” Lionpaw interrupted her thoughts. “It distracts them from trying to be the best warriors they can be.”
Relieved to hear that he finally seemed to have worked out where his loyalties lay, Hollypaw pressed closer to him. She knew how hard it had been for him to say good-bye to Heatherpaw. But it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.
As the cheering died away, Firestar lifted his voice once more. “I’m sorry that I cannot give Cinderpaw her warrior name today. But once her leg has healed, I know the whole Clan will be pleased to welcome her as a warrior.”
“Cinderpaw!” Honeyfern and Poppyfrost led the cheering this time, and Hollypaw glanced hopefully at the entrance to the medicine cat den. Had Cinderpaw peeked out to watch after all? There was no sign of the injured apprentice. Hollypaw sighed. Had she even heard the ceremony?
“Brambleclaw!” As the cats began to melt away, returning to their duties or to their dens, Firestar called to his deputy.
“Bring Sandstorm, Brackenfur, and Hollypaw with you.”
Hollypaw didn’t wait to be summoned by her father. She hurried over to the Highledge. Graystripe was already there; Sandstorm and Brackenfur padded beside Brambleclaw to join them.
“What is it?” Brambleclaw asked.
Hollypaw leaned forward, her whiskers twitching with worry. Graystripe’s warning flashed in her memory. This is serious news.
Firestar’s tone was grave. “The dawn patrol picked up WindClan scent on our side of the border again.”
Graystripe nodded. “And this time we found proof that they’re not just chasing prey over the border, but killing it there too.”
A growl rumbled in Brackenfur’s throat. “Proof?”
“There was squirrel fur and blood at the bottom of a tree inside our territory.”
Sandstorm bristled. “How dare they, after the warnings we’ve already given them?”
“We don’t know why they’re doing it,” Firestar meowed.
“But we must find out before we react.”
“It’s obvious why they’re doing it!” Brambleclaw burst out.
“They’re greedy.”
“We can’t be sure of that.” Firestar remained calm.
“We should post a patrol at the border,” Sandstorm declared, “and attack them next time they cross.”
Firestar glanced at his mate, narrowing his eyes. “I know how you feel, Sandstorm. But that’s not the best way to deal with this. I want to avoid bloodshed if we can.”
Sandstorm’s hackles rose. “They’re stealing our food!”
“And we’re not going to let them get away with it,” Firestar insisted. “But there’s no point rushing into battle before we know what’s going on.”
Sandstorm glared back. “Don’t you fight anyone anymore?”
“I’ll fight if I have to!” Firestar held her gaze. “But I won’t spill blood if reason can solve the problem.”
“We’ve tried reasoning with WindClan before,” Brambleclaw argued. “You act like they’re still our allies.”
Firestar shook his head. “I know they stopped being our allies long ago.” Wistfulness clouded his gaze. “The Clans are all rivals now.”
Hollypaw stared at her leader. Is he remembering the Great Journey? Six cats from the Clans traveled together to save them all. Or perhaps he was thinking of their most recent trek into the mountains. Hollypaw felt a tremor of doubt. Perhaps that journey hadn’t been such a good idea. Perhaps the blurring of the Clans led to the blurring of borders. And if borders were blurred, how could prey be shared fairly? There had to be rules, or only those who were prepared to fight all the time would survive! That was why StarClan wanted them to live by the warrior code. We need the warrior code as much as we need food and water! Hollypaw dug her claws into the ground. The Clans depended on the code; it was as simple as that.
“So what’s your plan?” Brambleclaw asked.
“I want you to go to Onestar,” Firestar told him. “Take Sandstorm, Brackenfur, and Hollypaw. Find out why he’s doing this. Tell him we’re increasing border patrols, and that if we catch any prey-thieves, we’ll deal with them, claws unsheathed.”
“Very well,” Brambleclaw agreed. “We’ll leave at once.” The deputy turned and headed for the gorse tunnel, Brackenfur and Sandstorm at his heels.
I’ve got to tell Lionpaw what’s happening! Hollypaw scanned the clearing. Her brother’s tail was sticking out of the elders’ den.
He must be cleaning out their nests.
She darted toward him.
His backside wriggled as he flung old bedding over his shoulder. Balls of moss showered around him, and he was grumbling to himself: “Mousefur was right.” A wad flew past Hollypaw’s ear. “There aren’t enough apprentices to do all the chores, and it’ll be ages till Rosekit and Toadkit are made ’paws!”
“I’m going to WindClan territory,” Hollypaw hissed.
Lionpaw’s tail disappeared as he whipped around. “Why?”
“We’re going to warn Onestar to keep out of our territory.”
He flexed his claws. “I wish I were going!”
Brambleclaw’s impatient mew sounded from the thorn tunnel. “Hollypaw!”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.” Hollypaw dashed away and followed the patrol through the tunnel.
The forest was gloomy. No sunlight flickered through the trees; the sky hung dull and gray above them. The air tasted musty, of dying leaves and rotting bark, and the ground was soft and mushy beneath Hollypaw’s pads. Leaf-fall was closing in. As Brambleclaw and Sandstorm charged ahead, Hollypaw stopped to clean the mud from between her claws on the deeply ridged bark of a fallen tree.
Brackenfur halted beside her. “You’re wasting your time,” he meowed. “We’ve still got to cross the moor.”
“But it feels icky,” she complained.
“You can give them a good cleaning when we get home.”
Brackenfur f licked his tail toward Brambleclaw and Sandstorm as they disappeared over the crest of the slope. “Hurry up; we don’t want to get left behind.”
Hollypaw raced after her mentor, and they caught up to the others at the edge of the forest. As they padded out from the trees, the wind flattened Hollypaw’s fur. It tasted of rain.
She narrowed her eyes against the buffeting breeze. Below them the land sloped down to the border; clumps of heather dotted the hillside as woodland gave way to moorland.
“Why didn’t we go to the border inside the forest?” she asked.
“We’ll get a better view this way,” Brambleclaw told her.
“We should be able to spot a WindClan patrol far inside their territory and call to it without setting paw on their land.”
As he led the way to the border, Hollypaw opened her mouth, tasting for the scent of WindClan markers. The grass beneath her paws grew coarse. She tried to detect the scent line, but a tangier smell was filling her nose. Hollypaw curled her lip. “What’s that stench?”
“Sheep.” Brackenfur plunged through a swath of heather crossing their path.
Of course. As Hollypaw struggled through the heather and emerged on the other side, she recognized the fluffy shapes on the hillside. “Why are there so many?” They swarmed across the moor like clouds across a dusty green sky.