“In that case,” Featherpelt meowed, “we’ll escort you back to the ThunderClan camp. Just to make sure that you don’t get distracted again.”
“There’s no need!” Twigpaw protested, thoroughly alarmed. “We’ll go straight back, I promise.”
“No, I think your Clan leader needs to know what you’ve been up to,” Featherpelt responded with a dismissive wave of her tail. “Emberfoot, you come with me. Smokepaw, go back to camp and tell Harestar what happened. Meet me back here, and we’ll carry on hunting.”
The apprentice dashed off through the trees, while Featherpelt and Emberfoot padded farther upstream to a place where the stream was narrow enough to leap across. Twigpaw was forced to go with them.
Anger and shame burned through her as she and Finpaw made their way back through the forest, firmly escorted by the two WindClan warriors.
What will Bramblestar say to us? she asked herself. And Sparkpelt? Oh, great StarClan, could this be any worse? She was frustrated, too, that she had no chance to pick up the prey she had caught earlier. It’ll be crow-food by the time I can go back for it!
Thornclaw was still on guard when Twigpaw and the others arrived back at the stone hollow. He leaped to his paws as he saw the WindClan cats. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, sliding out his claws.
Featherpelt dipped her head politely, not reacting to his challenging tone or the hostile stares of the other ThunderClan cats who began to gather around. “We would like to speak to your Clan leader, please,” she mewed.
Berrynose immediately broke away from the crowd and raced across the camp to the tumbled rocks. Thornclaw waved his tail, allowing the WindClan cats to advance a few paces farther into the camp, while the rest of the Clan waited in a ragged circle around them.
Now that she was standing still, Twigpaw could feel the cold seeping into her wet pelt, and she started to shiver. She hoped none of the other cats thought it was because she was scared. Finpaw brushed his pelt against hers and murmured into her ear, “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Twigpaw wished she could share his boundless optimism.
She felt as if she had been waiting for moons before Bramblestar thrust his way through the cluster of cats and stood in front of her. “What’s going on?” he asked the WindClan cats. “Why are you here?”
“We brought these apprentices back,” Featherpelt explained, dipping her head respectfully. “This one,” she added, angling her ears toward Twigpaw, “fell into the border stream and pulled herself out on our side. I know she didn’t mean to trespass, but she cost us a catch.”
“It was an accident,” Twigpaw defended herself as Bramblestar turned his amber gaze on her.
“I know that,” Featherpelt meowed, “but she could have got herself into serious trouble. Some of our warriors might not have been as lenient as Emberfoot and I. Or suppose she had strayed onto RiverClan territory. . . .”
That’s mouse-brained, Twigpaw thought, beginning to bristle. We don’t even have a border with RiverClan. And I barely made it onto WindClan territory, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s all so unfair!
However, she had the sense to keep her mouth shut as Bramblestar listened calmly to what the WindClan warrior was telling him. His expression was unreadable, unnerving Twigpaw even more, as he thanked Featherpelt for her courtesy.
“I’ll make sure my cats respect the boundaries better,” he promised. “And if the next ThunderClan hunting party happens to catch prey close to the border, they’ll bring some of it to WindClan to prove our goodwill.”
Twigpaw’s belly lurched as she listened, and she kept her gaze fixed on her paws. She didn’t dare to look up; she could feel the gazes of her Clanmates boring into her for costing them food.
She heard the WindClan cats saying their farewells, then felt Bramblestar’s tail flick her shoulder.
“Come to my den, Twigpaw,” the Clan leader meowed. “You and I need to talk.”
Twigpaw’s heart sank right down into her paws. Being scolded by Sparkpelt was one thing; it was ten times worse to be scolded by the Clan leader. Her paws felt like heavy stones as she toiled up the tumbled rocks and followed Bramblestar into his den.
“You may be an apprentice, Twigpaw,” he began, sitting down at the edge of his nest. “But you’re old enough and experienced enough not to make this kind of mistake. What’s going on with you?”
Every word sliced through Twigpaw like a blow from unsheathed claws. She would rather Bramblestar had growled at her instead of speaking in the calm and weary voice that he was using now.
“I’m sorry,” she mewed. “It really was an accident.”
“But you and Finpaw shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Bramblestar responded. “Come on, Twigpaw, tell me what the problem is. I know you sacrificed a lot to come back to ThunderClan, so you must want to be here. Why are you finding it so hard to settle in?”
Twigpaw sighed, and decided this was the moment to tell the truth. If the Clan leader will listen to me, things might get a whole lot better.
“Training is . . . a challenge,” she admitted, “because Sparkpelt insists on training me at the same level as Finpaw. I understand,” she added in a rush, “and it’s perfectly fine. I don’t expect special treatment. But—”
“But that is a little strange,” Bramblestar interrupted. “You’ve been an apprentice twice before. It seems like a waste of your time and Sparkpelt’s to teach you the basics.” His gaze grew thoughtful. “I’ll talk to Sparkpelt about it,” he promised. “Is there anything else that’s bothering you?”
Twigpaw was silent for a moment, but she couldn’t go on trying to push her worries aside. “The prophecy!” she blurted out.
Bramblestar’s gaze lightened; for a moment he looked almost amused. “What prophecy?” he asked.
“I know Alderheart believes that StarClan wants there to be five Clans,” Twigpaw replied. “And with ShadowClan gone and RiverClan having closed its borders, there are only three. I’m worried that terrible things will happen to ThunderClan if we don’t do something.”
Bramblestar was silent for several heartbeats, just looking at her, a bemused expression on his face. “It isn’t a warrior’s job—much less an apprentice’s—to worry about StarClan’s messages,” he mewed gently. “We have medicine cats to interpret StarClan’s meaning for us.” His head tilted to one side. “I remember you hanging around the medicine-cat den with Alderheart when you were a kit,” he continued. “Do you feel you might like to be a medicine cat yourself?”
Not another apprenticeship! Twigpaw thought. Confidently she shook her head. “When I was a kit, I used to think I might like to be a medicine cat,” she replied, “but now I realize I’m much better suited to be a warrior.”
Bramblestar nodded. “I appreciate your concern about the prophecy,” he told her. “It shows you’re a thoughtful and dedicated cat. But ThunderClan can’t tell the other Clans what to do. Unfortunately, ShadowClan is its own problem, and only time will tell what will happen there. Meanwhile,” he went on, “you must focus on being a good apprentice. That is the best way you can serve your Clan. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes!” Twigpaw responded. “I really will do my best.”
“Good,” Bramblestar meowed. “You can go now. Please find Sparkpelt and send her up to me.”
Twigpaw ducked her head and left the den. As she scrambled down the tumbled rocks, she felt a mixture of satisfaction and apprehension. Did I just get my mentor into trouble?