Frost-hardened leaves crunched underpaw as they padded through the forest. When they approached the ShadowClan border, Firestar and Brambleclaw tasted the air. Hope prickled from their pelts. Jayfeather guessed they were looking for traces of ShadowClan this side of the scent line. Was Ivypaw’s dream enough of a reason to attack? Had it really come from StarClan?
Firestar paused at the border, then crossed it. The air was fragrant with pine, the ground soft underpaw, thick with fallen needles. Jayfeather felt his leader push away his last tremor of doubt. Brambleclaw padded at his side, determined and calm, while Jayfeather trailed behind.
“Keep up,” Brambleclaw ordered. “We’re on enemy territory.”
As he spoke Jayfeather felt alarm flare from among the trees ahead. “Patrol!” he warned.
Firestar halted. “We’ve come to speak with Blackstar!” His voice echoed through the pines.
Jayfeather recognized the scent of Toadfoot and Ratscar. Their paws scuffed the needles, wariness fizzing in their pelts.
“What do you want with him?” Ratscar growled.
“To talk,” Firestar answered.
Jayfeather pictured Toadfoot and Ratscar exchange questioning glances before Ratscar replied.
“Very well.”
Jayfeather was familiar with the twisting route to the ShadowClan camp, but he had never felt this uneasy before, this unconvinced of his reason for being there. He followed the warriors through the prickly entrance. Surprised murmurs rippled through the ShadowClan cats.
“Firestar?” Tawnypelt’s questioning mew rang across the clearing.
Ratscar was heading for his leader’s den. “He wants to speak to Blackstar,” he growled.
But Blackstar was already padding out. “Why has ThunderClan’s leader come to ShadowClan?” His mew was sharp with suspicion.
“I need to talk to you,” Firestar answered. “In private.”
Blackstar’s tail lashed the air. “In private?” He padded slowly around Brambleclaw and Jayfeather, his whiskers twitching audibly with distrust. “Why so secret?”
“Feel free to match my Clanmates with your own,” Firestar offered.
“How generous of you,” Blackstar sneered. “Russetfur! Littlecloud!” he called. “We have company.”
Jayfeather sensed stiffness in Russetfur’s limbs as she ambled across the clearing. Frailty oozed from her, and he could smell the scent of strengthening herbs on her breath. The ShadowClan deputy had grown old, and with a flash of surprise Jayfeather realized that she would probably not survive leaf-bare. Littlecloud hurried from the medicine den, paws still fragrant with the herbs he’d been mixing. Some cat had whitecough, by the smell of the coltsfoot and catmint on his fur.
Jayfeather let his mind roam the camp, searching the nursery first. No sickness there. Then he heard coughing from the apprentices’ den. Pinepaw was sick, but not fevered. The strong young apprentice would easily shake off his illness.
Jayfeather followed Blackstar, Firestar, and Brambleclaw into the ShadowClan leader’s den, nose wrinkling in readiness for the stench. He would never understand ShadowClan’s taste for rat.
“What do you want?” Blackstar was brisk, and Firestar matched his briskness with his own.
“I want you to give the Twoleg clearing back to ThunderClan.”
Shock pulsed from the ShadowClan leader. Russetfur’s claws scraped the floor.
“What?” Blackstar rasped.
“We gave it as a gift,” Firestar went on. “But you’ve pushed at our forest borders once too often.”
“That’s not true!” Russetfur hissed. “You just want extra hunting lands. Have your greedy warriors hunted the forest clean?”
“We have enough prey for ourselves,” Firestar meowed evenly. “But our forest can’t spare prey for ShadowClan hunting parties.”
Rage filled the den, so thick in the air that Jayfeather’s heart began to quicken and he felt as if there weren’t enough air to breathe.
“You’re accusing us of crossing borders?” Blackstar spat. “We were beginning to think ThunderClan had forgotten what scent lines mean.”
Jayfeather felt tension seize Brambleclaw, as though he was holding back from lashing out at the ShadowClan leader. “We want our land back,” he growled.
“It’s our land now,” Russetfur spat.
“Then we’ll take it from you by force,” Firestar warned.
Blackstar’s tail scraped the side of the den, his fur snagging on the thorns. “If you want a battle, you’ll have one.”
“Very well,” Firestar answered. “My warriors will be setting the new boundary tomorrow at dawn. It’s your choice whether to stop them.”
“Don’t play that game!” Blackstar hissed. “You’re the one leading your Clan into battle.”
“Toadfoot! Crowfrost! Ratscar!” Blackstar yowled as they crossed the clearing. “Escort them from our territory.” The rage in his voice set pelts prickling around the edge of the camp.
Paws itching with unease, Jayfeather followed Firestar, trying to keep his pace slow even though he wanted to run. The air in the camp had soured into enmity.
Toadfoot fell in beside him, knocking roughly against his shoulder. “Why can’t you mind your own business?” the ShadowClan warrior growled.
Jayfeather shifted away from his escort. Closing his eyes, he prayed that Ivypaw’s dream had been right.
Chapter 22
Ivypaw drew in a breath. The cold seared her tongue but the tang of fresh ThunderClan markers tasted warm. She puffed out her chest. Her Clanmates were lined along the border like hawks, poised to defend their new territory. Their breath billowed in the milky light of dawn, while mist drifted from among the dark trunks of ShadowClan’s forest and rolled over the grass toward them.
“Are you okay?”
Dovepaw was trembling beside her.
“Fine.” Dovepaw shifted her paws.
“Do you think ShadowClan will come?”
Dovepaw didn’t answer. She was staring into the trees, her ears pricked, claws unsheathed.
For a moment, Ivypaw wished Dovepaw weren’t there. She hadn’t had extra training from Hawkfrost. How in the name of StarClan could she fight ShadowClan warriors? Ivypaw suddenly pictured Dovepaw horribly wounded, with claw marks scarring her flanks. She shuddered. Whatever arguments they’d had recently, they were still littermates.
She curved her claws into the damp earth, dragging her thoughts back to the present. This was her battle. The new border was here because of her, and she was ready to defend it with her blood.
“Hold the line!” Lionblaze snarled at Blossomfall as the young tortoiseshell warrior took a step forward, whiskers twitching.
“I thought I heard something,” Blossomfall protested.
“Get back in line!” Firestar growled. He swung his head to stare along the ranks of warriors. “Stay inside the border.”
Blossompaw shuffled back into place.
Dovepaw flinched.
Someone was coming.
Ivypaw caught her breath as Blackstar padded out of the forest, flanked by Russetfur and Rowanclaw. His pelt glowed white in the half-light. He looked far more powerful than he did at Gatherings, his hackles raised, eyes glittering with anger. Ivypaw fought the urge to back away. Hawkfrost has trained me! She grasped the thought and hung on to it.
Courage began to seep back into her paws as Blackstar halted and wrinkled his nose. The clearing was drenched in ThunderClan scent.
“You have made your choice,” he snarled to Firestar. “You gave us this territory. It’s not yours to take back.”
Firestar lifted his chin. “We have given you a chance to avoid fighting. Even now, no blood needs to be shed.”