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Blossomheart ran up to her. “Great catch! That was a brilliant plan, Pebblepaw.”

“We make a good team,” Pebblepaw purred.

Despite himself, Hawkwing was impressed by Pebblepaw’s hunting skills. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Especially when she made me lose my prey.

Billystorm and Waspwhisker came padding through the trees, Waspwhisker carrying a blackbird.

“Wow!” Billystorm exclaimed when he saw the squirrel.

“Whose was that?”

“Pebblepaw’s,” Blossomheart responded.

“We both caught it,” Pebblepaw added immediately.

Billystorm gave his apprentice a nod of approval. “Good job.

Let’s eat.”

With a whisk of her tail Pebblepaw invited Hawkwing to share her squirrel. Though he crouched down with the others without a word, every mouthful tasted like crow-food. She did well, he admitted to himself grudgingly, but I wish I’d caught my own prey instead of having to feel grateful to her.

When the squirrel had been picked to the bones, the patrol set off again. Billystorm took the lead as they headed into the Twolegplace. Hawkwing felt every hair on his pelt rise with apprehension as he padded into the shadows of the tall stone dens.

The air grew stale, full of the scents of monsters and unfamiliar food.

“Duskpaw would have loved this,” Waspwhisker mewed, dropping back to walk alongside Hawkwing. “He couldn’t get enough of Twoleg food. He was always trying to get around the rules and sneak off.”

Hawkwing remembered how irritating he had found it when his brother did that. Now all he could think about was how much fun his brother had been; he would have given anything to have Duskpaw back, even if he’d never seemed to take his apprentice training seriously. The memories choked him so that he couldn’t reply to Waspwhisker.

“I had to scold him, and punish him sometimes,” the gray-and-white tom went on. “That was my job as his mentor, because otherwise he would never learn. He must have shifted more ticks from the elders’ fur than any other apprentice in the Clan! But he was never resentful… he would always make a joke, so it was hard to be angry with him.”

“I know.” Hawkwing managed to speak at last. “When we were kits, he thought up the best games… and he was really good at sneaking off so we could play.”

Amusement glimmered in Waspwhisker’s eyes. “I remember

Cherrytail saying her paws would fall off, she spent so much time chasing him back into the nursery!”

Gradually, listening to the older warrior, Hawkwing began to feel comforted. This was the first time any cat had spoken to him so openly about Duskpaw. I guess they thought it would hurt me too much. But it’s good to hear Waspwhisker’s memories. It makes Duskpaw seem closer, somehow.

“I’ll never stop missing him,” Hawkwing managed to mew softly.

Waspwhisker nodded understandingly. “He had so much spirit!

You know, I blame myself… ,” he added.

Hawkwing gazed at him, startled. But it was my fault…

“M aybe if I’d been sterner with Duskpaw, about leaving the territory without a warrior, he wouldn’t have sneaked off that day to get the Twoleg food. And then he’d still be alive.”

“You can’t know that,” Hawkwing responded, feeling how strange it was to reassure a more experienced warrior. “No cat ever stopped Duskpaw from doing what he wanted.”

Waspwhisker let out a little huff of amusement. “No…”

“You couldn’t be responsible, because I’m responsible,” Hawkwing continued. “I could have saved him!”

Waspwhisker touched Hawkwing’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “M aybe when some cat dies, part of our grief is feeling guilty and wishing we’d done things differently. Even though there’s nothing we could have done.” He let out a deep sigh. “You know, I don’t think Duskpaw would want either of us to feel guilty. He always wanted every cat to be happy.”

“That’s true,” Hawkwing murmured. “One time, when Ebonyclaw was teaching me to hunt, I was upset because I missed a really easy catch. Duskpaw brought his mouse to share with me, and told me a funny story about how he tripped over his own paws trying to stalk a rabbit.”

“We’ll grieve for him and miss him,” Waspwhisker went on, “but we should remember that it is happiness he would want us to carry in our hearts when we think of him.”

Hawkwing’s chest swelled at the older warrior’s wisdom. But a heartbeat later the sound of high-pitched Twoleg yowling struck his ears and his heart started to pound with the shock.

“Get down!” Billystorm ordered.

Deep in conversation with Waspwhisker, Hawkwing had hardly noticed his surroundings as they followed Billystorm through the Twolegplace. Now he realized that they had left the last of the dens behind them and begun to cross a stretch of grass with a Thunderpath beyond. Crouching close together with the rest of the patrol, he spotted several Twoleg kits ahead of them, running up and down and waving their forepaws around, as if they were having some kind of battle.

“Listen to me,” Billystorm hissed. “This could be dangerous.

Some Twolegs can be violent and unpredictable, and their kits are even worse. It’s usually best to hide and wait for them to go away, but this grass won’t give us cover for long. They’re bound to spot us soon.”

“So what do we do?” Pebblepaw asked.

“We’ll have to make a run for it,” Billystorm replied. “Once we get across the Thunderpath we should be safe. In my experience, Twoleg kits won’t cross it unless they have bigger Twolegs with them. So, when I say run, run—and for StarClan’s sake, watch out for monsters.”

Hawkwing peered out through the stems of grass, his heart thumping harder than ever. The Thunderpath was many fox-lengths ahead of them, directly on the other side of the group of battling Twoleg kits. As Hawkwing stared at them, one of the Twoleg kits let out a louder screech and started to run toward the cats, pointing with one forepaw.

“Go!” Billystorm yowled.

Hawkwing sprang forward, wind streaming through his fur as he raced for the Thunderpath. Pebblepaw and Blossomheart pelted along just ahead of him, while Waspwhisker kept pace alongside him and Billystorm brought up the rear. M ore Twoleg kits were chasing them now, the air filled with their horrible caterwauling.

The Thunderpath drew closer and closer.

We’re going to make it! Hawkwing thought.

Then one of Hawkwing’s forepaws slid down into a concealed dip in the ground. He lost his balance and rolled over and over, ending up on his side, all the breath driven out of him.

Hawkwing looked up, gasping for air, to see all his Clanmates far ahead of him. Blossomheart and Pebblepaw had already crossed the Thunderpath. Waspwhisker was waiting on the near side while a gleaming blue monster roared past. Only Billystorm skidded to a halt in front of Hawkwing and looked back.

“Go on!” Hawkwing yowled. “I’m okay! I’ll catch up!”

As Billystorm raced on, Hawkwing felt a shadow fall over him.

He turned his head to see a Twoleg kit stooping over him, one huge forepaw reaching out to grab him. Something strange glittered in its other forepaw and its mouth gaped, letting out a triumphant screech.

Hawkwing sprang up and dodged away, barely avoiding the outstretched paw. But as he streaked away across the grass a blow struck him on his back. He could feel something trickling through his fur.

Oh, StarClan, help me! It must be blood!

Hawkwing wondered if he was somehow so badly injured, he couldn’t even feel the pain. But strangely the wound didn’t stop him from running. Reaching the edge of the Thunderpath, he hurled himself across it without even looking up. The air was split with a screeching so loud that it drowned out the sounds of the Twoleg kits, and Hawkwing felt wind buffeting his tail and his hindquarters as a massive monster growled past.