Dovepaw pricked her ears, searching for WindClan patrols. A monster growled far in the distance and sheep mewled on the hillside, their greasy, pungent smell familiar from the quest, when she’d had to hide between their stinky, mudencrusted legs.
She shook away the memory. There was still no sign of cats roaming the moor. “Nothing,” she reassured Ivypaw. Worried that Ivypaw might wonder how she was so certain, she added, “With the wind blowing toward us, it’ll be easy to scent any patrols.”
Ivypaw’s mouth was already open, tasting the breeze. “Come on.” Her silver-and-white pelt glowed in the moonlight as she began to head up the slope, eyes half closed against the wind.
Dovepaw followed her across the scent line, anxiety yawning in her belly, not daring to speak now that they were on WindClan territory. They weaved up the slope, the wind whipping more fiercely at their fur. A sheep bellowed close by and they both jumped, scooting through a clump of gorse and ducking lower as they pressed on between the heather bushes.
Ivypaw slowed. “Are you sure you want to go right to their camp?” There was a quaver in her mew.
Dovepaw could scent the camp just over a rise in the ground ahead. She could hear the gentle breathing of cats in dens. An image of the camp took shape in her mind: stiff bushes sheltering hollows scooped in the sandy soil; a paw-scuffed clearing; a gorse-shadowed dip, rich with the tang of medicine herbs. “Just a little farther,” she pleaded. She could sense Sedgewhisker clearly. The pale tabby she-cat was lying in a den beside Whitetail. Their denmates surrounded them, a jumble of pelts, warm and sheltered from the wind. Only Sedgewhisker stirred. She kept sniffing gingerly at her wound.
It can’t be too bad if she’s not in the medicine den, Dovepaw reasoned. Still, worry pricked at her pelt. She had to be sure!
But how in the name of StarClan was she going to get Sedgewhisker’s attention without waking the rest of the den?
I’ll worry about that when we get there.
They crested the rise. The earth dipped in front of them, a wide hollow denting the moorland. It was ringed by a grassy slope, edged at the foot by a wall of scrubby bushes. A sandy clearing glowed at the center, just as Dovepaw had imagined.
“That’s it!” Dovepaw could hardly keep her excited mew to a whisper. “The camp!”
Ivypaw flicked her tail across her sister’s mouth. “I bet Bumblepaw or Briarpaw’d never do anything like this!” she breathed. “You’re not really going to look for Sedgewhisker and Whitetail, are you?”
“Of course!” Dovepaw began to slink down the slope.
“You can’t!” Ivypaw protested. “It’s too dangerous.”
Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. “You can stay at the top if you want!” she hissed.
Ivypaw darted after her. “No way! If you’re going, then so am I! We’re in this together, right?”
Dovepaw knew exactly where the warriors’ den was and crept toward it, the moorland grass slippery beneath her pads.
Ivypaw pressed behind her, hardly breathing. “Is everyone asleep?”
Dovepaw’s tail twitched. “Nearly everyone.”
Ivypaw hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“It’s okay,” Dovepaw urged. “It’s just a guard. He won’t see us.” She could see the silhouette of a single warrior in the clearing, his shoulders bunched with tiredness, his back toward them as he scanned the opposite horizon.
Ivypaw stiffened when she saw him and ducked lower as they slithered into the shadows around the scrubby camp wall. They slid through a gap between the stems and tiptoed toward a wide tangle of shrubs. The warriors’ den.
Slipping into the darkness beneath the branches, Dovepaw felt a glimmer of relief.
Ivypaw was trembling beside her. “What do we do now?”
“Sedgewhisker is asleep just beyond the wall.” Dovepaw touched her tail against the spiny branches, sensing her friend only a tail-length away. “Sedgewhisker!” she hissed.
“What are you doing?” Ivypaw gasped.
Dovepaw ignored her sister’s protest. “Sedgewhisker!” she hissed louder.
Leaves rustled beyond the wall. Sedgewhisker had sat up.
“She’s coming!” Dovepaw whispered to Ivypaw. She could hear Sedgewhisker picking her way between the nests on three legs, her injured leg tucked protectively under her.
The pale tabby appeared beside them like a moonbeam in the darkness. “Great StarClan, Dovepaw! What are you doing here?”
Dovepaw tipped her head to one side. The WindClan warrior sounded cross, not overjoyed to see her old friend from the quest.
“Follow me!” Sedgewhisker hissed, and limped through the camp wall and up the grassy slope. She scrabbled over the top and crouched beyond the rise, wincing with pain.
Dovepaw and Ivypaw scooted after her.
“Are you okay?” Dovepaw looked anxiously at Sedgewhisker’s hind leg, which was swathed in cobweb and reeking of herbs.
Sedgewhisker was scowling. “Why did you come here?”
Dovepaw felt her ears flatten. Wasn’t she pleased they had come? “I-I was worried,” she stammered. “I heard a dog chasing you.” She didn’t dare say more in case she gave away her secret, but it seemed she had said too much already. A growl rumbled in Sedgewhisker’s throat.
“Have you been spying on us?” the WindClan warrior snapped.
Ivypaw swung her head to stare at Dovepaw, her eyes flashing with alarm and confusion. “You didn’t mention a dog!”
Sedgewhisker leaned closer. “How did you know about it?”
Dovepaw flinched away. “I-I heard it while I was training.”
Ivypaw blinked. “When? You didn’t say!”
Sedgewhisker was watching them through slitted eyes.
Dovepaw felt a stab of disappointment. “I was worried you were hurt, that’s all,” she muttered.
Sedgewhisker bristled. “We can take care of ourselves, you know. We don’t need a ThunderClan apprentice to watch out for us!”
A voice grumbled from the shadows outside the bush wall. “What’s going on? Who are you talking to, Sedgewhisker?”
Dovepaw and Ivypaw froze. There was nowhere to hide! Pawsteps padded up the slope toward them. Ivypaw unsheathed her claws while Dovepaw struggled to slow her breathing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
A lithe ginger shape appeared above the edge of the hollow.
Weaselfur.
His gaze flicked over the two ThunderClan apprentices, and then Sedgewhisker. “What are you up to now?” he mewed wearily. “Haven’t you caused us enough trouble today, getting your patrol tangled up with that dog?”
Sedgewhisker bristled. “I was the only one hurt!”
Weaselfur looked back at the camp. “Invaders!” he called. There was no urgency in his yowl. “Why didn’t you alert the Clan?” he asked Sedgewhisker, hardly paying any attention to Dovepaw and Ivypaw.
“I was handling it,” Sedgewhisker growled.
Ivypaw straightened up, whiskers quivering. “We don’t need handling,” she mewed crossly.
“Hush!” Weaselfur turned on her, his hackles rising.
WindClan cats began streaming through the gaps in the scrub wall and swarmed up the bank.
A blue-eyed tabby she-cat circled them, tasting the air. “ThunderClan!”
“Is it an invasion?” A brown-and-white tom curled his lip.
A tabby tom lashed his tail. “I can’t smell any others.”
“They may have disguised their scent,” snarled a black she-cat.
“Do you really think they’re that clever, Nightcloud?” sneered the tabby.
Breezepelt slunk over the rise, his pelt bristling. “What are you doing here?” His eyes flashed with menace.
Dovepaw blinked hopefully as Onestar appeared and stepped in front of the young warrior. “Harespring!” The WindClan leader nodded to the brown-and-white tom. “Take Leaftail and Owlwhisker and search the area.”