Hawkwing felt his pelt prickle with hostility as he glanced at Billystorm’s apprentice, Pebblepaw, standing beside her mentor.
He felt resentful from ears to tail-tip that she was coming with them, and that Billystorm had specially asked Leafstar to add her to the patrol. Seeing how Pebblepaw was completely recovered now just made him remember that Duskpaw wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine how he would stand being so close to her for days on end.
She’s only an apprentice, he grumbled to himself. She probably won’t be any use at all!
Blossomheart bounded up to join the patrol just as Leafstar and Sharpclaw padded up to say good-bye, followed by Cherrytail, Echosong, Parsleypaw, and a few more SkyClan cats.
Darktail was with them; he had begged Leafstar to be allowed to join the patrol, but Echosong had pointed out that he still wasn’t fit to travel any distance.
“I wish I was coming with you,” he meowed. “Billystorm, you remember the directions I gave you?”
“I do,” Billystorm replied. “And I hope by the time we get back you’ll be well again.”
“Thanks.” Darktail ducked his head. “I’m so grateful that you’ve accepted me into your camp.”
He deserves it, Hawkwing thought, pride warming his pelt.
He’s told us so much that we really need to know. We’re so lucky I found him!
“It’s time we were going.” Billystorm gestured with his tail for the patrol to gather together. “Is every cat ready?”
Hawkwing touched noses with his mother to say good-bye.
“Be careful,” Cherrytail warned him. “And hurry back. I can’t wait to hear what you find out about the other Clans.”
“Especially ThunderClan,” Sharpclaw added, looking down at his son with a gleam of approval in his green eyes. “I find it hard to believe that Firestar is dead.”
“We’ll find out for you!” Blossomheart assured him.
“Then farewell,” Leafstar meowed. “And may StarClan light your path.”
Billystorm led the way up the trail to the top of the gorge and through the undergrowth to the stretch of scrubby open ground that separated SkyClan territory from the Twolegplace. The sun shone and the air was still; the only sound was the gentle humming of bees, and the swish of grasses as the cats brushed their way through.
“Darktail says we have to go straight to the Twolegplace and through it,” Billystorm meowed. “We—”
“I don’t like the idea of traveling through the Twolegplace.”
Blossomheart sounded as if she was trying hard not to show nervousness. “Twolegs are bad news.”
Billystorm flicked her gently over one ear with the tip of his tail. “Some of them are okay, and most of them won’t bother us. I can spot a bad Twoleg right away. Plus,” he added, “I still know my way through the Twolegplace.”
“So where do we go after that?” Hawkwing asked eagerly.
“We cross a Thunderpath, then look for a tree that splits into three,” Billystorm went on. “From there we turn and head toward the setting sun. We’ll know we’re going the right way when we come to a clearing ringed with trees, with a small stream running through it. According to Darktail, there’s an abandoned badgers’ den there. The Clan cats are two days’ journey beyond that.”
“That sounds straightforward enough,” Waspwhisker commented, then twitched his whiskers. “I can’t wait to get there!
How exciting to meet the other Clans, after all these seasons apart.”
“Yeah, we might get to meet Firestar,” Pebblepaw mewed hopefully.
He’s dead, mouse-brain, Hawkwing thought, but said nothing aloud; he didn’t even want to speak to Pebblepaw.
“Yes, we don’t know for sure he’s dead,” Billystorm responded. “And his kin must still be alive in ThunderClan.”
“And Sandstorm,” Waspwhisker added. “The she-cat who came to SkyClan along with Firestar. She was brave too.”
Blossomheart gave a little bounce. “This is so exciting!”
“Leafstar told me stuff about the Clans that Firestar told her,” Billystorm went on. “He said all the other Clans think that ThunderClan is bossy, and its cats always believe they’re right.”
“If Firestar was their leader, they probably are always right,” Pebblepaw observed. “Firestar was such a hero!”
“I heard some of those stories too,” Waspwhisker mewed.
“WindClan cats are fast runners, RiverClan cats swim like fishes, and—”
“And you can’t trust ShadowClan cats as far as you could throw them,” Billystorm finished. “I wonder if that’s true?”
Pebblepaw was silent for a moment, padding alongside her mentor, then meowed, “Do you think it’ll be a good thing, being around a bunch of other cats who tell us what to do? SkyClan is used to going its own way.”
“That’s mouse-brained,” Hawkwing responded curtly, unable to resist the chance to contradict Pebblepaw. “We’ll be stronger if we’re all together.”
Pebblepaw fluffed up her neck fur and opened her jaws for a retort, but she was interrupted by Blossomheart.
“Ooh, look!” the ginger-and-white she-cat exclaimed. “That cloud up there—it looks just like a cat with a long curly tail!”
Great StarClan, are they all mouse-brained? Hawkwing thought irritably. “I don’t see why you’re in such high spirits,” he snapped at his sister. “Not after everything that’s happened.”
Blossomheart flinched away from him, her gaze clouding.
Hawkwing was immediately sorry that he had hurt her feelings. He knew very well that she was still grieving for Duskpaw.
“I didn’t mean—” he began.
He broke off as Pebblepaw thrust herself between him and Blossomheart, with a savage glance at Hawkwing. “I think it’s a perfectly beautiful cloud,” she mewed. “And it looks just like a cat!”
The two she-cats padded on side by side, behind the older warriors, and Hawkwing brought up the rear, silently seething. It’s all Pebblepaw’s fault! With her around, I can’t think straight.
Before they reached the Twolegplace, Billystorm halted beside a small copse of beech trees, not far from the first of the Twoleg dens.
“We might as well hunt here,” he meowed, “before we head into the Twolegplace. There’ll be slim pickings there.”
Hawkwing’s jaws watered at the thought of prey. He had eaten a sparrow at dawn, and Echosong had given traveling herbs to all the questing cats, but he knew better than to turn down a chance to eat. Who knew how much prey they would find when they left their territory. He padded cautiously into the copse, his jaws parted to taste the air.
He dropped into the hunter’s crouch as he picked up the scent of a mouse and spotted it nibbling something at the foot of a nearby tree. He began to creep up on it, remembering to set his paws down as light as falling leaves, but as he tensed, ready to pounce, he felt the brush of fur against his pelt and spotted Pebblepaw heading past him toward the same tree.
She’s so young and stupid she didn’t even scent it! Hawkwing thought as his mouse scuttled off and disappeared among the roots.
It would have to be her, ruining my hunt!
At the same moment that the mouse vanished, Hawkwing heard paw steps scampering through the grass, and spotted a squirrel with Blossomheart in hot pursuit. The squirrel started to swarm up the tree trunk, but Pebblepaw was in the right place. She leaped after it, dug her claws into its back and brought it down, where she killed it with a swift bite to its throat.
“Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” she meowed, her eyes shining with triumph.