Gooseberry, who had looked stiff and resentful when Thunderstar chose her for his hunting party, was now sitting up straight, her eyes bright. Apple Blossom’s tail wasn’t drooping anymore, and Thistle was puffing out his chest proudly.
Thunderstar shot a grateful look at his deputy. Lightning Tail blinked at him cheerfully, and padded closer. “I’ll come, too. ThunderClan will always take care of its own,” he said.
Thunderstar tasted the air, searching for the scent of prey in the rain-washed forest. Leaf had been right, and there was little to find after three days of this steady drizzle. But they had gotten lucky; Apple Blossom had stumbled across a nest of mice, and the six the cats had managed to catch would go a long way toward feeding ThunderClan.
He couldn’t find any trace of prey in the air now, just the heavy scents of wet earth and growing plants. But as Thunderstar began to move on, he heard a slight crackling coming from a nearby clump of bracken. Pricking his ears to listen more closely, he peered beneath the bush. At first, he saw nothing in the shadows, but then he made out the shape of a fat bird.
Thunderstar’s mouth watered. He signaled with his tail, and Thistle and Lightning Tail joined him.
“Under the bush,” Thunderstar said softly, and Thistle’s tail twitched with excitement.
“It can’t fly off from under there,” Lightning Tail said. “Let’s spread out in case it tries to run.” He signaled to Gooseberry and Apple Blossom, and the four cats, hunching low, began to approach the bush from different directions.
Thunderstar moved quickly and silently, coming as close to the bush as he could without alerting the bird inside. He could see now that it was a pigeon, hunched against the rain, its feathers fluffed, keeping almost entirely still. He was lucky to have spotted it. It was a fat, large bird, and would feed several of his Clanmates.
The pigeon’s head turned, its bright orange eyes catching sight of Thunderstar at last. But he launched himself forward before it could move. Landing squarely on top of the pigeon, he bit down on its neck. Warm blood flooded his mouth, and the bird twitched once and lay still. Thunderstar backed out of the bracken, dragging the pigeon with him.
That was their last catch of the afternoon, but with the mice they had caught earlier, Thunderstar was feeling fairly satisfied by the time the shadows began to grow long and they headed back to camp. Every cat would have something to eat today, even if their bellies would not be completely filled.
The rain had even begun to let up by the time the hunting party pushed their way through the gorse back into camp.
“Yum!” said Clover, hobbling toward them. Her leg was clearly still injured, despite Cloud Spots’s treatment, but her eyes were bright. “You had better luck than we did!”
Blue Whisker and Shivering Rose hurried toward them. “Can we share a mouse?”
“Of course you can,” Thunderstar said, glancing at the rest of his expectant Clan. “Every cat has to share, but there should be enough for all of us to have something.” His gaze met Violet Dawn’s warmly admiring one across the camp, and his tail fluffed a little with pride.
But as she came toward the prey pile, Milkweed suddenly froze, one paw extended in the middle of a step, sniffing the air.
“What is it?” Owl Eyes asked.
The ginger-and-black she-cat’s eyes were wide with fright. “Do you smell that?” she asked. Thunderstar sniffed, but before he could identify the faint foul scent drifting on the air, a wild chorus of barking erupted outside camp.
Dogs!
Chapter Three
Thunderstar grabbed Patch Pelt, the closest kit, by the scruff of his neck. “Up,” he ordered through a mouthful of fur, swinging the tiny ginger-and-black tom-kit partway up the trunk of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Wide-eyed, the kit dug in his claws and scrambled up toward the birch’s branches. Next to him, Milkweed helped Beech Tail climb the same tree and followed her up, the trunk shaking under their weight.
If the dogs found their way into the camp, the kits would be safe. There were growls and heavy footsteps at the top of the ravine, accompanied by the sound of sniffing. The dogs wouldn’t be able to see them through the gorse and brush, so there was still a chance they would pass the ravine by.
Thunderstar climbed a few tail-lengths up the tree and turned to check on the rest of his Clan. Lightning Tail was helping Pink Eyes up a tall ash on the other side of the clearing, coaching the half-blind cat on where to put his paws as he climbed. Blue Whisker had already reached the branches above them.
Cloud Spots and Shivering Rose were just coming out of the medicine cats’ den, their faces sharp with fear as they turned toward another tall tree. Around the camp, the rest of the Clan was also rushing to climb out of the dogs’ reach.
Where was Violet Dawn? Thunderstar scanned the clearing for her. He heard a snarl from above, followed by renewed frantic barking. Had the dogs scented the Clan below?
A scattering of stones fell from the ledges above as three huge dogs charged down the sides of the ravine. They were even uglier than most dogs, with flat, broad, short-furred faces and powerful jaws that dripped drool as they charged toward the cats. Where had they come from? He’d never seen dogs like these before.
Thunderstar thought briefly of standing and fighting, but it was too great a risk—if his Clanmates were safe, any harm the dogs could do to their camp was a small price to pay.
Was every cat safe? There was a frightened yowl, and Thunderstar, his heart dropping, saw Violet Dawn, Owl Eyes, and Snail Shell huddled in the middle of the clearing by the warriors’ den, Clover leaning against them for support. Clover’s hurt leg must have held them up.
The dogs had almost made it to the bottom of the ravine. They didn’t seem to have noticed the four cats by the den yet; their eyes were fixed on the tree directly across the clearing, in which Lightning Tail, Blue Whisker, and Pink Eyes clung to branches out of the dogs’ reach.
I have to save Violet Dawn.
As the dogs’ paws touched the bottom of the ravine, Thunderstar flung himself toward them, pushing off the tree’s trunk with his powerful hind legs. He hit the ground with a jolt, but he didn’t stop, his paws pounding the earth as he ran directly at the dogs.
Oh, StarClan, I hope this works.
He caught a glimpse of long sharp teeth and gaping jaws as he raced toward the big dogs. They seemed surprised to have a cat come right at them, and their momentary hesitation saved him.
He caught a whiff of something foul and acrid—almost like the scent of a Thunderpath—as he dashed directly beneath the nose of the lead dog, and then he ran at top speed in the opposite direction from where the four cats huddled by the den.
I need to give Violet Dawn and the others time to get away. He was sure that his Clanmates were moving as quickly as they could, but Clover’s injury would slow them down. Weaving between the trees at the edge of the clearing, Thunderstar thought of Violet Dawn, and of their kits. Both he and his mate needed to survive this. Their kits had to be safely born, and he would not let them be fatherless.
He could feel the hot breath of the dog on his heels. It wasn’t snarling now—it was saving its breath for running, just like he was. It was too close. With a thrill of panic, Thunderstar realized that he wouldn’t be able to outrun it.
Instead, he swerved and ran straight at an ash tree. There was no time to climb. At the last moment, Thunderstar dodged, slipping past the trunk to one side. The dog couldn’t veer away in time. With a satisfying thump, it crashed headfirst into the tree. The second dog, following close behind, skidded right into it, and both went down in a chorus of snarls and a tangle of flailing legs.