The loud cackle of a starling echoed in the stillness.
Prey!
Excited, Dovepaw headed toward the sound, picking her way between the trees as silently as she could. The starling called again, closer now. Dovepaw unsheathed her claws and scanned the branches above. She would climb if she had to.
A rustle in the bracken behind her made her turn. A starling in bracken? Unusual. She plunged in, tail lashing excitedly.
“Hey!”
A yowl of surprise set her pelt on end. Dovepaw felt fur beneath her feet. This was no starling. Bristling, she wriggled backward out of the bracken. “Who is it?” she mewed, her voice croaking with fear. She tasted the air.
ShadowClan!
The sour stench shocked her, and she tensed, ready to fight. What was ShadowClan doing on ThunderClan territory? The bracken rustled again, and Tigerheart popped out.
Dovepaw stared at him in astonishment. He was on ThunderClan territory! “How dare you come here?” she challenged, ignoring the excitement fizzing beneath her pelt.
“How dare I?” Tigerheart’s eyes were round. “What are you doing on ShadowClan territory?”
“ShadowClan territory?” She frowned. “But this is ThunderClan.” She glanced quickly around. Pines mingled with oak and beech. She tasted the air. ThunderClan scents mixed with ShadowClan. Where was the border? She sniffed again.
There! The border was behind Tigerheart.
He spun around and stared at the line of scent-marked trees, as though he was just as surprised to find the border behind him. He turned back. “Sorry!” His amber gaze was wide with apology. “The cold seems to have killed every scent. All I can smell today is frost.”
Dovepaw purred. “I know what you mean! I haven’t had a whiff of prey all morning.”
Tigerheart looked relieved. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He glanced back at the border. “You’re not going to chase me off, are you?” A purr caught in his mew.
“Oh, no!” Dovepaw shook her head. “It was bad enough having to fight you in the battle.” His amber gaze swung back toward her, and she felt herself growing hot. “I mean, I know we were having a battle, and we’re supposed to fight…” The words got tangled on her tongue, and she found herself simply staring at him.
“Borders are more trouble than they’re worth,” Tigerheart muttered.
“What?” She could hardly believe she’d heard him right. But it was true. Without borders, they could meet whenever they wanted. The thought made her heart prick.
Tigerheart cleared his throat. “Of course, borders are borders.” He stopped, his expression growing soft.
“Even when you can’t smell them,” Dovepaw joked. Why did he have to look at her like that?
Paws thrummed on the ground behind her. “Patrol!” she warned.
Tigerheart’s ears were already pricked. “Get back to your side,” she told him. “I’ll steer them away.” Tigerheart hesitated. “Go on!” she urged.
The paw steps were getting closer. Tigerheart bounded toward the scent line. Then he halted. “I want to see you again!”
Dovepaw blinked. “What? When?”
“Here! Tonight. Okay?”
“O-okay.” Dovepaw could hardly believe she was agreeing. She turned on her hind paws and darted away.
Lionblaze, Spiderleg, and Squirrelflight were pounding toward her. Their bright pelts flashed between the trees. Dovepaw raced toward them, blocking their path.
“What are you doing?” Lionblaze slowed to a clumsy halt.
“Hunting,” she mewed innocently.
Squirrelflight and Spiderleg drew up beside her. Spiderleg sniffed at her. “What have you caught?”
“Nothing yet,” Dovepaw confessed.
“Where’s Brackenfur?” Lionblaze asked.
“Down by the shore,” Dovepaw told him. “We split up.”
Lionblaze kneaded the frostbitten leaves under his feet. “Well, with the prey gone to ground to escape this weather, I can’t see you’ll be much use wandering around here by yourself.” He sat back on his haunches and shook tiny specks of ice from his forepaws. “You might as well go back to camp and help patch up the warriors’ den.”
“Won’t Brackenfur be worried if I just disappear?” Dovepaw didn’t want to go back to the hollow. She wanted to stay out in the forest and remember Tigerheart’s amber gaze.
“We’ll find him and let him know.” Lionblaze’s mew cut into her thoughts. “After we’ve tracked this fox.”
“Was it here?” Dovepaw peered around, suddenly nervous.
Squirrelflight looked puzzled. “Can’t you smell it?”
Dovepaw sniffed and felt her fur stand on end. How had she missed it? The forest here was rank with fox stench. “I—I was looking for prey, not fox,” she stammered.
Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Get back to camp.”
Dovepaw nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to make any more excuses. As she hurried away, Squirrelflight called after her, “Keep your eyes open!”
“I will,” she yowled back.
She figured that she must have given Tigerheart enough time to get clear. And she was going to see him later. She pictured his thick pelt and his long sleek tail, and she hardly felt her paws as she raced down the slope to the hollow. Her heart was pounding when she burst in through the thorn tunnel.
She skidded to a halt. Outside the nursery, Daisy and Poppyfrost were leaning forward, ears pricked. Mousefur peered from the elders’ den. Berrynose, at the fresh-kill pile with a sparrow in his jaws, seemed to be frozen to the spot. Leaves fluttered from Leafpool’s paws beside the warriors’ den.
All eyes were fixed on Millie and Jayfeather. The two cats faced each other, bristling, in the center of the clearing.
“You’re pushing her too hard!” Millie’s blue eyes blazed.
Jayfeather lashed his tail. “She needs to be pushed!”
“But she’s exhausted.”
“That’s better than lying in her nest slowly suffocating.”
“Are you sure about that?” Millie was trembling.
Jayfeather’s eyes widened. “You want her to die?”
“I want her to be healthy!” Millie hissed. “I want her to run through the forest. I want her to hunt and fight. I want her to know the joys of being a warrior!”
“That’s never going to happen,” Jayfeather mewed gently.
“Then what’s the point?” Millie raged.
“Isn’t there joy in simply being alive?” Jayfeather leaned closer to the distraught warrior.
“Joy?” Millie’s mew was thick with disbelief.
Jayfeather lifted his chin. “I won’t give up on Briarlight.”
A growl rumbled in Millie’s throat. “All you’re doing is dragging out her suffering.”
Leafpool hurried from the warriors’ den. “She’s not in any pain,” she meowed. “Jayfeather makes sure of that.”
“But she’s not getting any better,” Millie pointed out.
“Being a medicine cat is as much about faith as about herbs.” Leafpool swept her tail along Jayfeather’s flank.
Jayfeather jerked away. “I can deal with this by myself, Leafpool!”
But Millie was muzzle to muzzle with ThunderClan’s old medicine cat. “Faith?” she hissed. “If your warrior ancestors are so powerful, why don’t they cure her? If this had happened in my old home, my housefolk would have fixed her.”
“Millie?” Graystripe’s shocked whisper sounded from the entrance as he padded into the clearing. “Is that what you really think?”
Millie backed away. “I don’t know what to think,” she rasped. “I only see my kit, broken and helpless, struggling through each day, with death stalking her like a fox…” Her mew trailed into silence.
“But she’s alive.” Graystripe blinked. “She’s here with us.”