“I know you’re in there!” a voice growled. Goosekit tensed, ready to push himself deeper into the ferns, but there was a rattle of fronds, and a dark red shape appeared in front of him with a yowl of triumph.
“Found you!” Poppykit declared. Her amber eyes shone. “Great hiding place, Goosekit! The smell of Cloudberry’s herbs really hid your scent!”
Goosekit followed her out of the ferns, shaking shreds of greenery from his fur. Behind them, a voice rasped, “Are you kits playing hide-and-seek near my den again? I’ve told you not to flatten those ferns! They keep out the drafts!”
Poppykit rolled her eyes. “Cloudberry is such a grump! I bet she never played when she was a kit.”
Goosekit nodded. “Playing probably wasn’t allowed back then!”
“Hey, you found him!” Heronkit called from the half-tree outside the apprentices’ den. All the apprentices were out on patrol, and it was too cloudy for the elders to bask outside, so the kits had the clearing to themselves.
Moonkit jumped down from the tree stump. “Your turn to look for us, Goosekit!” she called. “No peeking!”
Goosekit stood at the base of the half-tree, faced the rough brown bark, and closed his eyes. He flexed each toe in turn, letting the tip of his claws press briefly into the earth. When he had tested each claw, he opened his eyes and turned around. The clearing was empty apart from Fallowsong, Daisytoe’s denmate, rolling a ball of soiled bedding out of the nursery.
“They seemed determined to find the best hiding places!” she purred to Goosekit. “Good luck!”
Goosekit ran to the nursery first. His legs felt strong, and he could feel new muscles flexing underneath the pelt on his shoulders. In two moons he would become an apprentice. He couldn’t wait to start learning how to hunt and fight so he could be a great warrior like his father, Rooktail. But he didn’t want to learn from Stormpaw like his sister, Moonkit. She had stars in her eyes whenever she looked at that big-headed apprentice. No, Goosekit wanted to learn from ThunderClan’s best warriors, like Rooktail or even Doestar herself.
He slipped quietly into the nursery and looked around. It was dark and musty inside, full of warm scents of milk and fur. Daisytoe was out on patrol, and without the queens inside, the den looked much larger. Goosekit poked his muzzle into a heap of bedding. No sign of his denmates here. He whirled around and headed back into the clearing. His ears caught a faint sound from behind
Highrock, just past the entrance to Doestar’s den. Goosekit stared at the spot and opened his jaws to taste the air. The breeze carried a faint, familiar scent to him. He marched forward and pushed aside a prickly tendril that curled around the base of the rock.
Rabbitkit and Poppykit blinked at him. “That was quick!” Rabbitkit mewed. “We thought you’d never find us here!”
“I heard you moving around,” Goosekit replied.
Poppykit scowled. “That was Rabbitkit,” she complained.
“I sat on a nettle!”
Goosekit twitched his tail. “Go wait by the half-tree while I find the others.”
He stood outside Doestar’s den and gazed around the clearing, looking for branches that were moving too fast for the breeze, or flashes of pale fur between the leaves. Poppykit and Rabbitkit had stomped over to the half-tree and were lying beside it.
“Hey!” A low voice caught Goosekit’s attention. A young black-and-white tom was beckoning to him from the shadows beside the warriors’ den. “Are you looking for two kits?”
Goosekit nodded.
“The dark brown tom went behind the elders’ den,” mewed the tom. “And I think I saw the other one go into those ferns.”
Goosekit’s fur spiked. If Cloudberry caught Moonkit beside her den, they’d be in big trouble!
“Thanks!” he called to the black-and-white cat. He bounded to the elders’ den and squeezed behind it, screwing up his eyes so they didn’t get poked by thorns. He almost fell over Heronkit, who was trying to make himself invisible by crouching behind a clump of thistles.
“Watch out!” Heronkit protested, wriggling out of the way.
“Sorry,” Goosekit puffed. “At least I found you! Go join the others by the half-tree. I need to find
Moonkit.”
He turned around, not easy in the tiny, prickly space, and struggled back to the clearing. He could see the tips of some ferns waving beside the rock that sheltered the medicine cat’s den. Goosekit hoped that he would find Moonkit before Cloudberry did. He ran over to the tunnel that led into the dense ferns and stuck his head between the pale green stalks.
“Moonkit! Are you in there?”
There was no reply. Goosekit sighed and pushed his way in. The scent of fresh and dried herbs was overwhelming this close to the medicine den, and it was impossible to pick up any other smells.
But he spotted a tiny paw print in a damp patch of earth, and a dent at the stalks of some ferns, as if something had brushed past not long ago. He followed the trail and spotted pale gray fur glowing among the greenery.
“I see you, Moonkit!” he called softly.
There was a hiss of annoyance and his sister started heading toward him.
“Come on, before Cloudberry sees us,” Goosekit urged. He turned and began pushing through the ferns just as a stir of movement close by suggested that Cloudberry had poked her head out of her den.
“Swiftpaw, is that you?” the old cat called.
Ducking his head, Goosekit nudged Moonkit past the last clump of stalks and into the clearing.
“I can’t believe you found me so quickly!” Moonkit wailed.
“He found all of us too quickly,” meowed Heronkit, narrowing his eyes. “I bet he cheated!”
“I did not!” Goosekit protested. His fur grew hot. He hadn’t asked the black-and-white cat to help him! Any of the others could have been told where he was hiding when it was their turn to look.
“You must have,” Poppykit insisted. “You didn’t look anywhere else except where we were hiding!”
“I told you that I heard Rabbitkit move!”
“I don’t believe you,” Poppykit hissed. “I don’t want to play with you anymore.”
“Me neither,” huffed Heronkit. He deliberately turned his back on Goosekit. “Come on, let’s play something else. Without him.”
Moonkit shot Goosekit an apologetic look. “It does seem like you cheated,” she whispered.
Goosekit flattened his ears. “Whatever. I don’t want to play with you anyway.” He stomped toward the nursery. Maybe he’d find an elder to tell him more stories about LeopardClan and TigerClan. Those were real adventures, not like stupid games of hide-and-seek.
There was a rattle of branches as a patrol returned through the gorse tunnel. Goosekit sat down in the shadows beside his den and watched the long-legged, powerful-looking warriors spill into the clearing. Cloudberry puffed her way out of the ferns to meet them.
“Is all well on the borders, Windflight?” she asked the gray tabby who was sniffing at the fresh-kill pile.
Windflight nodded. “Twolegplace was as quiet as Fourtrees at new moon,” he commented.
“Those cats we chased off two sunrises ago haven’t dared showed their noses again!” He lifted his head and looked around the clearing. “Is Swiftpaw back? I want to take her out for some battle training with Harepounce and Adderpaw.”
Cloudberry narrowed her eyes. “I assumed she’d met up with you and joined the patrol. I haven’t seen her since she left.”
“No, she didn’t join us. I thought you told her to fetch comfrey leaves and come straight back,” Windflight meowed.
A dark ginger cat with a white muzzle trotted over to them. “Are you talking about Swiftpaw? Is something the matter?”
“Nothing to worry about, Flashnose,” Windflight mewed. “Swiftpaw is taking longer than we expected to fetch herbs, that’s all.”