“Come on, Lionpaw,” Ashfur meowed. “Let her pass.”
Frustrated, Lionpaw stepped back and allowed Hollypaw to push her way carefully into the brambles.
“We’ll go this way.” Ashfur led him around the edge of the thicket and started sniffing the rain-slicked roots of a beech clinging to the bank.
“I’ll check closer to the water.” Lionpaw scrambled down the slippery bank. The stream spat and gurgled, splashing his paws as he picked his way along the edge. He sniffed every tuft of grass and pushed back the leaves of each plant to check that nothing was concealed underneath.
A clump of ferns blocked his path. He opened his jaws, letting its scent lick the roof of his mouth. As he reached a paw in among the dripping fronds, a mew came from above him.
“Nothing in the brambles!” Hollypaw’s head was peeping over the top of the bank. Her eyes were wide, her fur fluffed up despite the rain.
“Are you sure?” Lionpaw narrowed his eyes. She seemed pretty excited for a cat who had found nothing.
“Just brambles,” Hollypaw insisted. “Ashfur says we’re to go back to camp.”
Still suspicious, Lionpaw scrabbled up the bank.
Ashfur was waiting there. “WindClan have obviously gone home,” the gray warrior meowed. “We’re wasting our time.”
“Yeah,” Hollypaw agreed quickly. “Let’s go.”
Lionpaw glanced sideways at her. What’s she up to?
But Ashfur was already trotting away through the trees.
Hollypaw chased after him. She found something. But why’s she hiding it? The thought nagged as Lionpaw pounded after his Clanmates.
“Wait!” he called to Ashfur, a few tail-lengths ahead.
Ashfur halted and turned.
Hollypaw spun around, her pelt bristling. “What is it?”
“I heard something on the border,” Lionpaw lied. “I want to go back and check.”
Ashfur tipped his head to one side. “What did you hear?”
“I can’t be sure,” Lionpaw mewed. “Probably nothing, but I’d like to be certain.”
“I’ll go with you,” Hollypaw offered, tail tip twitching.
“I’ll be fine on my own,” Lionpaw promised.
Hollypaw looked skeptical.
Lionpaw didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll probably have caught up with you by the time you reach camp.”
“Go on, then,” Ashfur meowed. “But if you see anything suspicious, come and report it at once. No silly heroics. This is too serious.”
“Okay,” Lionpaw promised. He turned tail and raced back to the thicket of brambles. Hollypaw had made the tiny opening larger. It was easy for him to wriggle inside, but the thorns still tugged his pelt as he followed the twisting path his littermate had made through the bush. At least it was dry inside.
A smell hit his nostrils. Fox! Was that what Hollypaw was so worried about? Why didn’t she tell Ashfur? He pushed on more cautiously through the thicket, remembering the time he had sneaked out of camp with Hollypaw and Jaypaw. They had been only kits, but they had been determined to find the fox threatening their Clan. They had tracked it all the way to its den. He shivered at the memory. How did they possibly believe they could have chased it away when they were so small? In the end, it had chased them.
As the scent grew stronger now, he realized that it was stale. No fox had been here for a while. Suddenly the brambles thinned out and the ground opened into a smooth-edged hole. Hollypaw had found a fox’s den! It hadn’t been used in a while, by the smell of it.
Creeping forward, Lionpaw peered into the darkness. Hollypaw’s scent mixed with that of the fox. She had gone inside!
Impressed by her courage, he crept into the gloom, his heart quickening. The tunnel was narrow, and cold earth brushed his shoulders. It snaked steeply downward almost at once, and Lionpaw’s whiskers twitched as he felt his way through the darkness. The soil beneath his paws was damp and clung to his pads. The tunnel must open out soon, he guessed. The fox’s lair could be only a few steps ahead. The hole plunged onward, and Lionpaw began to wonder if he was wasting his time. But something had spooked Hollypaw, and he had to find out what. He padded on, unnerved by the silence. What could live this far underground?
Suddenly a breeze tickled his nose. There was an opening ahead. He followed the tunnel around a bend, his paws sliding on polished rock. Cold, fresh air spilled over him, stirring his whiskers. The tunnel opened around him, and Lionpaw realized, with a shiver of surprise, that this wasn’t merely a fox den.
Light filtered behind him through the tunnel, enough to see that the walls were stone too, and a jagged roof arched high over his head. The air smelled of rock and water, a scent never found in the forest but achingly familiar all the same. This must lead to the dark river! Memories of Heatherpaw and the flood washed over Lionpaw’s pelt. The fur bristled along his spine. Hollypaw had found another way in!
Why hadn’t she told him? Lionpaw’s claws scraped furrows in the stone beneath his paws. He knew why. Oh, yes, it was as plain as Icepaw’s fur at dusk.
She’s scared I’ll start seeing Heatherpaw again! Anger burned in his belly. I’m a loyal ThunderClan warrior! Won’t she ever trust me?
Chapter 8
“My kits!”
Jaypaw felt a prickle of annoyance. Daisy only ever worried about her kits. The rest of her Clanmates could starve, for all she cared. It was obvious she wasn’t Clanborn. Firestar’s announcement that WindClan were definitely stealing prey had set the camp fizzing with worry and excitement. The remains of the blackbird lay in the center of the clearing where Brackenfur had dropped it.
Daisy swept her bushy tail around Rosekit and Toadkit.
“Get off!” Toadkit’s tiny gray paws scraped against the ground as he struggled out of his mother’s clutches.
Good for you! Jaypaw padded away from the nursery, where he had been checking on Millie.
“We need to teach them a lesson about boundaries,” Thornclaw growled.
Dustpelt’s tail swished over the ground. “I hope I meet Onestar in battle,” he growled. “He’s stolen from us too many times, the fox-hearted thief.”
Mousefur was pacing outside the elders’ den. “WindClan have changed so much since Tallstar was leader,” she meowed wistfully.
Firestar was standing on Highledge with Brackenfur at his side, still panting after his dash through the forest. “There’ll be extra patrols,” he reassured his Clan, “including a predawn patrol to protect our prey.”
His voice was steady, but Jaypaw could feel waves of anxiety pulsing from him, bouncing off the walls of the hollow like distant thunder.
WindClan! Jaypaw bristled. They might be struggling to feed their Clan, but stealing was the cowardly solution. Onestar was a leader of warriors. How could he make thieves of his Clan?
He padded back to his den, relieved to find that Leafpool was gone. She must have left the camp to search for herbs. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t asked him to join her. Since their argument, they had spoken only when necessary. Why did she have to be so obsessed with making Cinderpaw a warrior? She was just being stubborn. And Cinderpaw still lay in the den, a constant reminder of their quarrel.
As he nosed his way in through the brambles, a voice called weakly to him from inside.
“Can you fetch me some water?”
Cinderpaw hadn’t even tried to leave her nest since she’d been brought in. Not even when Firestar had summoned the Clan to share the news about WindClan’s prey-stealing.