“I’ll ride,” Black Ear offered. His eyes were dull with tiredness. “It’s better than being carried.”
Willow Tail snorted at Moth Flight. “Do you really think he’ll have the strength to hang on to Spotted Fur’s back all the way to camp?”
Spotted Fur glanced apologetically at Moth Flight. “Willow
Tail’s right. These kits need to be carried.”
“I can make it,” Black Ear promised. “I know I can.”
“Of course you can.” Spotted Fur soothed the young kit.
“But it’ll be easier for me if you let Moth Flight carry you.”
Moth Flight sighed. “Okay.” The plant would have to wait.
“I guess I can come back and fetch this later.” She stroked the soft leaves with her paw. They felt furry.
Willow Tail’s ears twitched impatiently. “What do you want with a dead weed anyway?”
Moth Flight shrugged. “It’s interesting.”
Willow Tail shook her head, sighing. “Cats are meant to hunt prey, not plants.”
Spotted Fur nosed Black Ear gently toward Moth Flight. “If all cats were the same, life would be dull,” he meowed softly.
Willow Tail huffed disapprovingly and scooped up Silver Stripe by her scruff.
Spotted Fur lifted White Tail and Moth Flight grasped Black
Ear gently between her jaws and lifted him off the ground. He was as light as prey and she suddenly realized how vulnerable the kits had been out here on their own. A fresh flash of guilt shot though her as she followed Willow Tail and Spotted Fur up the slope toward camp.
Black Ear swung limply from her jaws. He didn’t scrabble or fidget like he did when she was trying to get him into his nest in the evenings. He must be exhausted. She quickened her pace, falling into step beside Spotted Fur.
They slid into single file as they approached a thick swath of heather. Willow Tail pushed into it first. Spotted Fur waited for Moth Flight to duck in front of him. She followed Willow Tail through the branches to where an old sheep trail cut through the bushes. Spotted Fur’s breath tickled her tail as he traced her paw steps.
As they neared the far edge of the heather patch, Willow Tail slowed. The pale tabby’s ears pricked and Moth Flight stiffened.
Had Willow Tail heard something? A badger? A dog? Moth
Flight breathed deeply, but all she could taste was Black Ear’s warm scent. Willow Tail put Silver Stripe down and pushed her way out of the heather.
“What’s wrong?” Spotted Fur slid past Moth Flight and dropped White Tail beside Silver Stripe.
Black Ear began to struggle. “What’s that smell?”
As Moth Flight placed him gently beside his littermates, she smelled the strong tang of a strange tom.
Spotted Fur’s hackles lifted. “Wait here with the kits.” He slid out of the heather after Willow Tail.
“It’s just a SkyClan tom!” Moth Flight could smell the fragrant scent of bark mingling with the tom’s own scent. It was completely different from the heathery scent of her Clanmates.
RiverClan smelled fishy, ShadowClan like pine. And ThunderClan always carried the musty scent of the leaf litter that softened the floor of their ravine.
Why were Willow Tail and Spotted Fur so edgy?
Moth Flight shooed the kits ahead of her as she nosed her way out of the heather. A large reddish-brown tom was stretching languorously on a sunlit patch of grass. She recognized him at once. She’d seen him at Gatherings. He was Red Claw. Willow Tail must know him well—they’d been rogues together before they’d chosen different Clans.
Then why was she snarling at him, her ears flat against her head?
“What are you doing on WindClan land?” Willow Tail hissed accusingly.
Moth Flight glanced questioningly toward Spotted Fur. The tabby she-cat sounded furious. Why was she so bothered about the tom? He was doing no harm.
As Spotted Fur shrugged in reply, Red Claw lifted his head and blinked at them lazily. “I came up here to enjoy the sunshine. It’s too shady in the woods.”
Willow Tail spat. “You shouldn’t be here! This is our land.”
Black Ear began to march forward, showing his teeth.
“Yeah, this is our land!” he squeaked.
Red Claw glanced at the kit, amusement brightening his gaze. “I’m not hunting. So where’s the harm?”
Spotted Tail cocked his head. “How do we know you’re not hunting?” he asked.
Willow Tail bared her teeth at Red Claw. “We don’t! Listen, I don’t want you on WindClan land. You’ll bring trouble. You always do!”
Moth Flight pricked her ears. Did Willow Tail know something about Red Claw the rest of the Clan didn’t? Was he dangerous? Moth Flight instinctively moved closer to the kits, sweeping her tail around them to draw them near.
Black Ear tried to wriggle free, but Spotted Fur froze him with a warning look.
Pushing himself to his paws, Red Claw faced Willow Tail, his eyes glittering. “You’re not WindClan’s leader,” he growled.
“Or SkyClan’s. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Willow Tail unsheathed her claws.
Spotted Fur padded between the bristling cats. “This isn’t worth fighting over,” he mewed softly. “We may not be Wind Runner, but we can certainly take this back to her and ask what she thinks. Is that what you want?”
Moth Flight shifted her paws uneasily. What would Wind Runner say? Wind Runner claimed that the borders had been established to make sure each Clan had enough prey to feed themselves, but there was more than enough prey on the moor and in the forests to feed every cat. Besides, Red Claw wasn’t even hunting. Still… Wind Runner seemed especially edgy where Clear Sky, and SkyClan, were concerned.
Red Claw was eyeing Spotted Fur with annoyance. “I’m just a tired cat enjoying a rest in a sunny clearing that happens to be a few tail-lengths across the border. Do you think your leader would care?”
Spotted Fur narrowed his eyes. “Again, I could go and ask her, if you’d like.” Red Claw scowled, and Spotted Fur went on.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. You chose to join SkyClan.
There must be a sunny clearing somewhere in your own territory.”
Red Claw’s tail flicked angrily. “Fine.” Turning away, he stalked toward the heather.
Silver Stripe stared at Moth Flight. “Who was he?”
“Just a SkyClan cat,” she said. She wasn’t entirely sure why things had gotten so tense, but she didn’t want the kits to worry.
Black Ear hopped over her tail and padded a few steps toward the grass Red Claw had flattened. His small nose was twitching with curiosity. “Are SkyClan cats bad?”
Moth Flight felt a prickle of irritation. “Of course not.
They’re just like you and me.” She didn’t understand why there had to be lines scratched between the Clans. Borders just seemed to make everyone suspicious of each other. What if there was a harsh leafbare or a dry greenleaf? Would one Clan let another starve or go thirsty rather than share their hunting lands?
Willow Tail’s pelt was still bristling. “We should follow him to make sure he leaves. You can’t trust SkyClan cats.”
Moth Flight glanced crossly at Willow Tail. “Don’t say that in front of the kits!” There was enough gossip in camp about ThunderClan cats being reckless, ShadowClan cats being unfriendly, and RiverClan cats being odd. Making up differences between the Clans was just planting trouble for the future. A new thought struck her, making her pelt prick warily. I wonder what the other Clans say about us?