If we put one whisker out of place, I’m sure they’ll tear our pelts off, Alderheart thought uneasily.
“Well, Bramblestar? What is it that you want?” Onestar demanded as Bramblestar drew closer, facing off with the WindClan leader. “If it’s about the battle, you can turn around right now and get off my territory.”
“This has nothing to do with the battle,” Bramblestar meowed calmly. “There’s something important that you ought to know. Do you remember, seasons ago, back in the old forest, when Firestar left ThunderClan for a while…?”
Alderheart watched Onestar closely while Bramblestar told the story that no other Clan had heard until now: how Firestar had been led to the gorge by a vision of a SkyClan ancestor and had helped renew the lost SkyClan. Outrage grew on the WindClan leader’s face with every word that Bramblestar spoke.
“So ThunderClan has been lying all this time?” he burst out when Bramblestar had finished. “I should have known you couldn’t be trusted, Bramblestar—you or Firestar before you!”
“No cat has lied to any cat!” Squirrelflight retorted, stung. “But Firestar saw no reason to spread the story around, and neither did Bramblestar—until now.”
Onestar let out a snort of disgust. “So what has changed?”
For answer, Bramblestar gestured with his tail for Alderheart to step forward. Alderheart’s belly roiled with nerves as he faced the WindClan leader’s hostile stare, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he explained about his visions.
“I’m sure that the prophecy is StarClan’s way of telling us that we need to help SkyClan,” he finished.
Onestar’s lips curled back in the beginning of a snarl, and he gave a furious lash of his tail. “So you want my support to help some strange Clan that only ThunderClan has ever heard of?” he rasped. “Are you planning to bring them here and give them WindClan territory? You won’t get the chance!”
Angry growls came from some of the listening WindClan warriors. Alderheart saw Lionblaze and Dovewing slide out their claws, and he knew that they were bracing themselves in case Onestar gave the order to attack the visitors.
“We don’t intend that at all,” Bramblestar responded, still managing to stay calm. “Alderheart, tell Onestar about your quest.”
Still uneasy, Alderheart began the story of how he and his Clanmates had made the long journey to the gorge where SkyClan had their camp, only to find that they had been driven out by rogues.
“They were the same rogues who attacked you here in WindClan,” he explained. “The same who have taken over ShadowClan territory.”
As he spoke, Alderheart saw the anger in Onestar’s eyes be overtaken by shock and horror. For a heartbeat, the WindClan leader seemed too frozen even to speak. “So Darktail was to blame for SkyClan being driven from the gorge?” he asked eventually. “And nearly destroyed?”
Alderheart nodded.
Onestar was silent for a few heartbeats more. Then rage seemed to fill him up and spill over like water from an upturned leaf in pelting rain. “WindClan owes SkyClan nothing!” he screeched. “And you ThunderClan cats need to get out! Go on—get off my territory! WindClan’s borders are closed!”
Alderheart exchanged a stunned look with Bramblestar and the rest of the patrol. What’s all that about? he asked himself. What’s making Onestar so furious?
Though Bramblestar tried to protest, Onestar refused to listen. His warriors gathered around the ThunderClan leader and his patrol, herding them back up the side of the hollow and onto the moor.
“I’ll escort you to the border,” Gorsetail meowed, beckoning a few more cats to join her with a whisk of her tail.
The ThunderClan cats headed downhill in silence; clearly there would be no point in trying to talk to the WindClan warriors. As he padded along beside his leader, Alderheart couldn’t forget the horrified look on Onestar’s face.
I thought so before, but now I’m sure of it, he told himself. Onestar is hiding something!
Chapter 3
Violetpaw grimaced at the reek of mouse bile as she dabbed the scrap of soaked moss on one of Oakfur’s ticks. The ShadowClan elder let out a sigh of relief as the tick dropped off.
“That’s better, youngster,” he meowed. “I only wish we could put everything right in ShadowClan as easily as we deal with these pesky ticks. Nothing is the same as it used to be. With Rowanstar gone, no cat treats elders with respect.”
“Darktail says we’re not ShadowClan anymore,” Violetpaw responded grimly. “He says we’re Kin now.”
“I’ll be ShadowClan until I die,” Oakfur declared with an angry twitch of his ears; alarmed, Violetpaw glanced around to make sure that none of the rogues were listening. “Loyalty is important; that’s what some of you young cats don’t understand.”
“That’s true,” Ratscar agreed. He paused for a moment, scratching furiously behind one ear with his hind paw, then added, “Cats aren’t what they were in our day. These kits Snowbird just delivered—I wonder what sort of world they’ll grow up in.”
Violetpaw flinched. Perhaps she should be worrying about the tiny kits Puddleshine had helped deliver, but instead, she couldn’t help remembering the battle and the look in Twigpaw’s eyes when Violetpaw had attacked her. I hurt my own sister! she thought, sure that she would never shake off the guilt. Would I actually have struck her while she was injured? She couldn’t answer that question, and felt wretched. Oakfur must be right: young cats like me don’t understand loyalty.
There was a flurry of paw steps, and the bramble tendrils that overhung the elders’ den waved wildly as Needletail barged inside.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” she meowed to Violetpaw, ignoring the two old toms. “Why are you messing around with that gross mouse bile and ticks? You should come with me and have something to eat.”
“Dawnpelt told me to come and help the elders,” Violetpaw explained, dropping the twig with the bile-soaked moss.
Needletail flicked her tail dismissively. “Dawnpelt isn’t the boss of you anymore,” she pointed out. “Darktail and Rain are right—the elders need to start looking after themselves. We don’t have room for cats who don’t contribute.”
Ratscar fixed her with a glare. “There was a time ShadowClan didn’t have room for rude little flea-pelts,” he rasped.
“I’m not the one who has fleas,” Needletail sneered. “Are you coming, Violetpaw?”
Violetpaw cast a guilty look at the elders. “Okay,” she mewed.
“Hey, you haven’t finished!” Oakfur protested. “There’s a huge tick right down my back next to my tail. I can feel it!”
Violetpaw would rather have stayed to help, but Needletail was waiting for her, her tail-tip giving impatient twitches.
“Sorry,” Violetpaw whispered, and followed her friend out into the camp.
Needletail led the way to the fresh-kill pile, where Thistle, a muscular gray rogue, was sniffing around the edge, taking his time to choose. Needletail picked out a blackbird for herself. Violetpaw spotted a plump vole and whisked it away; her jaws watered as she crouched beside Needletail to eat it.
But before she had taken more than a mouthful, Thistle bounded toward them. Violetpaw eyed him warily. She didn’t know him very well, as he and some other rogues had only recently arrived. She couldn’t help wondering how many more cats Darktail would welcome into camp as “Kin.”