“Squirrelpaw, what can you scent?”
“Apart from vole, you mean?” Squirrelpaw mewed cheekily. Springing to her paws, she tasted the air. The breeze was blowing from RiverClan territory, and she soon replied, “RiverClan cats—strong and fresh.”
“Good.” Dustpelt looked pleased. “A patrol just went by.
Nothing to do with us.”
And no sign of WindClan, Brambleclaw commented to himself as they moved off again. Not that this meant his suspicions were wrong—he did not expect to see any of their cats this far downstream, the whole length of ThunderClan territory away from their own border.
As they drew closer to Fourtrees and passed the Twoleg bridge, all three cats paused to scan the slope. The breeze had dropped and the air was still and heavy with the scent of cats.
“WindClan and RiverClan,” Brambleclaw mewed quietly to Dustpelt.
The older warrior nodded. “But they’re allowed to go down to the river,” he reminded him. “There’s no sign that they’ve crossed our border.”
“So there!” Squirrelpaw couldn’t resist adding.
Brambleclaw shrugged, telling himself that he would rather be proved wrong. He didn’t want trouble with WindClan.
Dustpelt was just moving off again toward Fourtrees when Brambleclaw caught another scent—WindClan again, but much stronger and fresher than before. Not daring to call out, he signaled frantically to Dustpelt with his tail, angling his ears in the direction where he thought the scent was coming from. Dustpelt crouched down in the long grass and signaled to his companions to do the same.
Please, StarClan, Brambleclaw begged, don’t let Squirrelpaw make a smart remark!
But the apprentice remained silent, flattening herself to the ground and staring at the clumps of bracken that Brambleclaw had indicated. For a while, the only sound was the slap and murmur of the river nearby. Then there was a dry, rustling sound, and a mottled brown cat peered out of the bracken before creeping into the open a couple of tail-lengths on the ThunderClan side of the border. Brambleclaw recognized Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy. He was followed by Onewhisker and a smallish dark gray cat Brambleclaw had never seen before—an apprentice, he guessed—carrying a vole in his jaws.
Glancing back, Mudclaw murmured, “Head for the border. I can smell ThunderClan.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dustpelt growled, rising up out of the grass.
Mudclaw recoiled and drew his lips back in a snarl. At once Brambleclaw leaped up to stand beside his Clan mate, and Squirrelpaw dashed up to her mentor’s other side.
“What are you doing on our territory?” Dustpelt demanded.
“As if I need to ask.”
“We’re not stealing prey,” Mudclaw retorted.
“Then what’s that?” Squirrelpaw asked, flicking her tail toward the vole that the apprentice was carrying.
“It’s not a ThunderClan vole,” Onewhisker explained. An old friend of Firestar’s, he looked thoroughly embarrassed to be caught like this on ThunderClan territory. “It ran across the border from RiverClan.”
“Even if that’s true, you’re stealing it from RiverClan,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “You’re allowed to drink from the river, not to take prey.”
The gray-black apprentice dropped the vole and launched himself across the grass at Brambleclaw. “Mind your own business!” he spat.
He barreled into Brambleclaw and knocked him over; Brambleclaw let out a surprised yowl as the apprentice’s teeth closed in the loose skin on his neck. Twisting his body, he managed to score his claws down the other cat’s shoulder, and felt strong hind paws scrabbling at his belly. With a screech of fury he tore his neck free and dived for his opponent’s throat.
As his teeth found their mark, Brambleclaw caught a glimpse of Onewhisker aiming a blow with his paw. He braced himself to fight both cats at once, before he realized that the WindClan warrior had batted the apprentice away and was standing over him, rage smoldering in his eyes.
“That’s enough, Crowpaw!” he snarled. “Attacking a ThunderClan warrior when we’re trespassing on their territory? What next?”
Crowpaw shot him a furious look through narrowed eyes.
“He called us thieves!”
“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Onewhisker turned to Dustpelt, who was standing a few fox-lengths away. As Brambleclaw scrambled to his feet he saw that the ThunderClan warrior had thrust himself in front of Squirrelpaw, preventing her from joining in the fight.
“I’m sorry, Dustpelt,” Onewhisker went on. “It is a RiverClan vole, and I know we shouldn’t have taken it, but there’s hardly any prey in our own territory. Our elders and kits are hungry, and—” He stopped as if he thought he had already said too much. “What will you do now?”
“The vole’s between you and RiverClan,” Dustpelt meowed coldly. “I see no need to tell Firestar about this—unless it happens again. Just get out of our territory, and stay out.”
Mudclaw nudged Crowpaw to his paws. The WindClan deputy still looked furious at being found out, and Brambleclaw noticed that he did not add his apology to Onewhisker’s. Without a word he headed for the border, with Onewhisker close behind him. Crowpaw hesitated; then with a defiant glance he snatched up the vole and streaked after his Clan mates.
“I suppose we’ll never hear the last of that!” Squirrelpaw spat at Brambleclaw. Her eyes glittered with annoyance.
“Happy now you’ve been proved right?”
“I didn’t say a word!” Brambleclaw protested.
Squirrelpaw didn’t reply, but stalked off with her tail in the air. Brambleclaw looked after her with a sigh. He would much rather the incident had never happened. His fur prickled with the sense of impending disaster. Clans were becoming so thirsty and desperate that even decent cats like Onewhisker were prepared to trespass, steal, and lie. Heat lay over the forest with the weight of a huge, choking pelt, and it seemed as if every living thing was waiting for a storm to break. Could this be the trouble that StarClan had foretold?
The next few days and nights, as the moon waned to the merest scratch in the sky, seemed never-ending to Brambleclaw. When he thought of what might happen at Fourtrees when he went to meet Tawnypelt, he felt every hair in his pelt rise up with dread. Would the other Clan cats come? And what exactly would be revealed at midnight? Perhaps StarClan themselves would come down and speak with them.
At last the night came when there was almost no moon at all, but the stars of Silverpelt glittered so brightly that Brambleclaw had no difficulty in finding his way through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine. Leaves rustled as he brushed through the undergrowth from one patch of shade to the next, trying to tread as lightly as if he were creeping up on a mouse. Other ThunderClan warriors might be out late, and Brambleclaw did not want to be seen, nor to explain where he was going. He had not told any cat about his dream, and he knew that Firestar would not approve of his going to meet with cats of other Clans at Fourtrees when he was not protected by the full-moon truce.
The air was cool now, but there was a dusty scent in the air, rising from the parched earth. Plants were drooping or lay withering on the ground. The whole forest cried out for rain like a starving kit, and if it did not come soon, it would not be only WindClan who were short of water.
When Brambleclaw reached Fourtrees the clearing was empty. The sides of the Great Rock glimmered with starshine, and the leaves of the four oak trees rustled gently overhead. Brambleclaw shivered. He was so used to seeing the hollow full of cats that it seemed more daunting than before: so much bigger, with so many unexplained shadows. He could almost imagine that he had stepped into the mystical world of StarClan.