“It’s your turn now, Hollypaw,” Brackenfur meowed softly.
Foxpaw and Icepaw were fast asleep in their nests.
“Is it dawn?” Hollypaw asked, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.
“Not for a while yet,” Brackenfur whispered. “We’re doing the predawn patrol.”
The extra patrols had drained the Clan and left its warriors and apprentices tired, but Firestar’s plan seemed to be working. There had been no sign of intruders or prey-stealing in days. Hollypaw stretched and followed her mentor out of the den. Her paws felt numb with sleep, and even the early-morning chill couldn’t chase away her weariness.
A sharp white moon lit the camp. Thornclaw sat in the clearing, holding his tail down with a paw while he washed the tip.
Sorreltail paced around him. “It’s too cold to sit still,” she complained.
“There’ll be more warm nights before greenleaf is gone,” Brackenfur promised, padding up to the tortoiseshell and brushing his muzzle against hers.
“Is Hollypaw awake?” Thornclaw asked.
Hollypaw stepped from the shadows. “Almost.”
“Good.” The golden brown tabby got to his paws. “We can go.”
A small squeak sounded from inside the nursery. “Has the fox gone?” Rosekit mewed anxiously. “I heard it barking, and it sounded really close!”
“It’s far away in the forest, dear,” Daisy soothed. “Now go back to sleep.”
Hollypaw fell in behind Brackenfur as the patrol padded single file out into the forest. It was dark beneath the shelter of the trees, and Hollypaw stumbled over a root as they headed up the slope toward the WindClan border.
Brackenfur glanced back at her. “Are your paws still asleep?”
“I’ll wake up soon,” she promised.
They trekked to the border stream, slowing as they neared it. Sorreltail, leading the patrol, signaled with her tail for them to halt and lifted her nose to taste the air. “No fresh scents here.”
Thornclaw scrambled down the bank, and Hollypaw heard bushes rustle as he checked beneath them. He emerged with leaves caught in his pelt. “No signs there.”
Padding quietly through the trees, they followed the stream along the border. Brackenfur pushed through a clump of ferns, sliding out the other side with a shake of his head. “All clear.”
Thornclaw left a scent marker at the roots of an oak.
“We’ll follow the stream out of the trees,” Sorreltail decided. “Then we can reset our markers along the moorland border.” She led the way out of the forest and into moonshine.
The hillside glowed eerily white, and the silence of the moor and the forest set Hollypaw’s pelt prickling.
“It’s so quiet,” she murmured.
“Dawn’s coming,” Brackenfur meowed. “The birds will be waking soon.”
A breeze rustled the heather.
“Thornclaw, Brackenfur, you reset the markers,” Sorreltail ordered. “Hollypaw and I will scout around and check for any WindClan scents.” She nodded to Hollypaw. “Follow me.”
Hollypaw padded down the slope after the tortoiseshell, her sleep-clumsy paws slipping on the coarse grass. Sorreltail beckoned her onward with her tail, and Hollypaw weaved ahead through the heather while Sorreltail headed back up the slope. Sniffing her way from bush to bush, she followed the curving ground through a dip and up onto a shallow hillock. The borderline lay here, detectable more from recent ThunderClan markers than the stale WindClan scent. It was as if this border hardly mattered to WindClan anymore. They must have been too busy hunting in the forest.
Hollypaw gazed at the hillside beyond. The hill arched like the spine of a giant cat against the sky. It stretched to the horizon, creamy with the coming dawn. Cream gave way to yellow as the sun began to push against the darkness, driving back the night and staining the hilltop a soft pink.
As the sky lightened, Hollypaw noticed a shape silhouetted on the crest. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make it out. She could not gauge its size. But as the dawn light washed over the hilltop, she recognized the shape as feline, with a face that tapered at the muzzle, a long, smooth back, and a curving tail, bushed at the tip. There was something proud and magnificent about the way it held its head; the large, wide-spaced ears prickled as it surveyed the lake below.
Hollypaw stiffened. “It’s a lion!”
“A lion?” Sorreltail dashed to join her. “Where?”
Hollypaw pointed with her nose at the figure standing motionless on the hill.
Sorreltail shook her head. “It’s just a cat.” She peered harder.
“Doesn’t look like WindClan, though. It’s far too stocky and long-haired.”
Hollypaw blinked, realizing Sorreltail was right. But for a moment it really had looked like a lion; she’d heard of them in stories whispered in the nursery when she was a kit—huge and fierce, rising like the sun to defeat all their enemies.
“We’ve reset the markers!” Brackenfur called from the treeline. “We should head back so the dawn patrol can leave.”
Sorreltail turned and dashed away to join him. Hollypaw dragged her gaze from the strange cat still standing on the horizon. Was it watching them?
“Hollypaw reckons she saw a lion,” Sorreltail told Brackenfur and Thornclaw as they padded back to camp. “On the moor.”
“A lion?” Brackenfur’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Are you sure you weren’t still dreaming?”
“No, I wasn’t!” Hollypaw mewed defensively. “And it did look like a lion.”
“It did look strange,” Sorreltail agreed. “Not a WindClan cat, that’s for sure.”
“Just so long as it doesn’t cross our border,” Thornclaw growled.
Cinderpaw was nosing her way out of the medicine cat’s den as Hollypaw padded into camp. She limped around the clearing, heading for the thorn tunnel.
Hollypaw fell in beside her. “Where are you going?”
“Swimming.”
“On your own?” Hollypaw asked in surprise.
“Jaypaw’s busy sorting herbs, and Leafpool says I’ll be okay if I take it slowly.”
Hollypaw noticed that Cinderpaw’s words were no longer punctuated with gasps of pain. “Is it feeling better?”
“Lots.” Cinderpaw stopped and stretched. Her injured leg trembled with the strain, but she didn’t flinch.
“Can I come with you?” Hollypaw asked.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Not anymore.” The sight of the “lion” on the moorland had jerked her wide-awake.
Cinderpaw purred. “I’d love the company.” She glanced sideways at Hollypaw. “Do you want me to teach you how to swim?”
Hollypaw shivered at the thought of a cold, wet pelt. “No, thanks!”
They padded nose-to-tail through the thorn tunnel. The sun was climbing the sky, warming the forest, and birds chattered in the trees. Hollypaw loved how the woods had lost the neat crispness of early greenleaf and had grown unkempt and disheveled, the undergrowth spilling over paths and trees sending willowy shoots out from among their roots. It seemed that the forest was fuller and lusher than ever.
She slowed as they climbed the slope toward the lake, so that Cinderpaw could match her step for step despite her limp.
“Have you seen how Honeyfern keeps following Berrynose with that drippy look on her face?” Cinderpaw mewed.
“Oh, yes!” Hollypaw agreed. “Anyone would think he was StarClan’s gift to the Clan!”
“Can’t she see what a bossy know-it-all he is?”
“I think she likes him almost as much as he likes himself.”
“Then it must be love!” Cinderpaw’s whiskers twitched.
“That reminds me! Have you noticed how Birchfall has started sharing tongues with Whitewing?”
“The nursery could start getting crowded,” Hollypaw purred.