“Don’t tell us what to do!” Pinepaw was ripping at the muddy ground, grass clumping between his claws. “Just because it was ThunderClan’s idea to go upstream to find the river doesn’t mean you’re in charge of every cat.”
“Just smell it!” Thornclaw growled.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Crowfrost spluttered. “If we cross your border then there will definitely be ShadowClan scent on your territory.”
Ratscar curled his lip. “Are you trying to trick us into a fight?”
“Why would we do that?” Lionblaze stared levelly at the ShadowClan warrior.
Tigerheart stepped forward. “Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll check it. But remember that you invited me over the border!” He trotted over the scent line, his tail straight up in the air. “Where’s this bush?”
Dovepaw narrowed her eyes. If Tigerheart checked the scent, he’d disguise his old scent with new. The evidence would be hidden. Smart! She felt a flash of admiration for his cunning. But still, he was up to something. What could it be? She stood her ground beside the hazel bush as he approached.
“Over here?” he called, shoving his nose into the brown leaves. “There’s a faint scent here, but it’s too old to tell if it’s ShadowClan or ThunderClan.” He turned, brushing his pelt against the bush, leaving strands of fur clinging to the spiky branches. “You must have bees in your brain, as usual.” Nose high, he turned back toward his Clanmates. The two patrols were still facing each other, as if they were daring their rivals to make the first move.
Dovepaw hissed as he passed her. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Tigerheart swung his head to stare at her, his eyes startled.
“Don’t deny it!” Dovepaw whispered, one eye on her Clanmates. They were busy outglaring ShadowClan. “I recognized your scent before you crossed the border.”
“Don’t tell, please!” Tigerheart’s tail drooped. “I’ll explain everything at the Gathering tomorrow.”
He shifted his paws, glancing anxiously toward his Clanmates.
A wave of sympathy washed over Dovepaw. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. He’d helped her defeat the beavers. She at least had to give him a chance to explain. “Okay,” she agreed.
“Thank you.” Smoothing his fur, Tigerheart recrossed the border and joined his Clanmates. “They’re imagining it,” he reported to Crowfrost.
“See?” Ratscar sniffed. “It was probably just scent drifting over the border.”
Graystripe took a step forward. “There was definitely scent on that bush!”
Crowfrost leaned closer till their whiskers almost touched. Only the invisible border separated them. “Why are you so scared of a bit of ShadowClan scent?”
Briarpaw puffed out her chest. “We’re not scared!”
No cat moved.
“Are you leaving?” Thornclaw growled at last.
“Why should we?” Ratscar flashed back at him. “We’re on our own territory.”
Graystripe snorted. “Come on,” he ordered his Clanmates. “If they want to rot their paws by standing in the mud, let them.” He turned, letting his tail flick over the border so that it brushed Crowfrost’s nose.
Crowfrost growled, his fur spiking, but he didn’t move as the ThunderClan patrol followed Graystripe into the trees.
Dovepaw glanced over her shoulder. Ratscar and Crowfrost were talking softly, their heads bent together. Pinepaw was pacing the border, hackles still raised, but Tigerheart stood calmly gazing after her.
Dovepaw caught his eye and looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
What’s wrong with him? He had been so open and straightforward on the journey upstream. She’d never thought of him as sneaky. At least he’d promised to explain at the Gathering.
As they approached the hollow, Dovepaw, out of habit, let her senses search for Ivypaw. Her sister was not in camp. She listened until she recognized Ivypaw’s mew.
“Told you so!” Ivypaw was in the training hollow with Blossompaw. “You didn’t get me that time.”
Comforted, knowing her sister was safe and well, Dovepaw followed the patrol through the thorns. Firestar was pacing the clearing, his pelt dripping from the rain. He turned as soon as the patrol entered camp.
“Well?” he demanded, padding straight to Graystripe.
Graystripe shook the water from his whiskers. “More scents inside the border,” he reported.
Firestar frowned. Dustpelt, who had been sheltering under ferns at the edge of the clearing, emerged into the drizzle. “Is ShadowClan still trespassing?”
Cloudtail, his white pelt gray with rain, sat huddled in the clearing, ears pricked and eyes round. Sandstorm peered out from Firestar’s den, her green gaze glinting from the gloom, and stared with narrowed eyes at the knot of warriors. Millie padded out from her den, touching Graystripe’s shoulder with her nose before nuzzling Briarpaw, their kit. The brambles at the entrance to the medicine den trembled and Jayfeather padded out and sat down, his unseeing stare fixed on the returning patrol.
“I think it’s just one warrior who’s crossing the border,” Graystripe reassured his Clanmates.
Sandstorm ran down the tumble of rocks. “Do you know which one?”
Dovepaw glanced at her paws. While angry murmurs rippled through her Clan as they speculated, she let her senses stretch back toward ShadowClan territory. Tigerheart was following his patrol into their camp. While Ratscar reported to Blackstar, he lifted a rat from the fresh-kill pile and carried it to the edge of the clearing, then lay down and began to eat, with one anxious eye on his leader.
“So what are we going to do about it?” Dustpelt’s challenge brought Dovepaw’s senses back to the ThunderClan clearing.
Firestar lifted his chin. “Since we don’t know yet which cat is crossing the border, there’s nothing we can do.”
Thornclaw growled, low and hard.
“But,” Firestar went on, “we will strengthen patrols on the ShadowClan border and hopefully catch this warrior and find out what he’s up to.”
“I’d like to be the one who catches him,” Lionblaze hissed.
“Or her,” Millie countered.
“Whoever it is,” Firestar went on, “we can’t be sure whether they are acting on behalf of ShadowClan or alone, and until we are, we must not overreact.”
“You’ll mention it at the Gathering, though?” Sandstorm prompted.
“If necessary,” Firestar meowed.
“If necessary?” Dustpelt spluttered.
Graystripe weaved between the brown tabby tom and his leader. “Why stir up ill feeling if none exists?”
Lionblaze lashed his tail. “Because ShadowClan will think we’re weak!”
Firestar sat down and hooked his tail over his forepaws. “Strength doesn’t have to be proved.” He gazed intently at the golden warrior. “Remember, it may just be a single ShadowClan warrior, not the whole Clan.”
“Then we should tell them!” Thornclaw snapped. “If they can’t control their own warriors, every Clan should know it.”
“I know, Thornclaw.” Firestar dipped his head to the tabby warrior. “But sometimes it’s better to wait and see before sharing our problems. I don’t want the Clans thinking we can’t protect our borders.”
Thornclaw shook some of the moisture from his fur. “I suppose,” he muttered.
Firestar and Sandstorm bounded up the rocks, back to the shelter of the leader’s cave. Dustpelt followed Thornclaw to the shelter of Highledge, while Graystripe, Millie, and Briarpaw went to sniff the bedraggled prey on the fresh-kill pile.
“Are you hungry?” Lionblaze asked Dovepaw.
Before she could answer Jayfeather called across the clearing, “So?” The gray medicine cat hurried toward them. “Do you know who it is?” His gaze flicked anxiously to Lionblaze as he went on. “I caught Tigerheart sniffing around our border a few nights ago.”