Billystorm dipped his head and turned to go, glancing back after he had taken a couple of paw steps. “Be careful, Leafstar,” he murmured. “You cannot force cats to be loyal—not to you and not to the warrior code.”
Leafstar stood on the trail, watching the ginger-and-white tom climb to the top of the cliff and vanish into the gathering darkness. Her fur prickled with loneliness. Then she reminded herself that all Clan leaders were alone in making decisions on behalf of their Clan. We have to trust our own instincts, more than any other cat’s.
As she headed for her den again, she spotted tiny figures jumping around on top of the Rockpile, and she recognized Fallowfern’s kits. What are they doing there at this time? They should be tucked up in the nursery. Between curiosity and concern, she headed down into the gorge again.
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name,” she heard in Plumkit’s squeaky voice. “Nettlepaw, from this moment you will be known as Nettlewhiskers. StarClan honors your… your battle skills and your courage, and we welcome you as a full member of SkyClan.”
A warrior ceremony! Leafstar thought, amusement pushing aside her gloomy thoughts. She waited to see Nettlekit dip his head so that his littermate could rest her muzzle on it.
Instead, Nettlekit swiped one forepaw at Plumkit, his claws extended. “No!” he squealed. “I don’t want to be a warrior! Nettlewhiskers is a dumb name!”
“What?” Plumkit’s eyes stretched wide with astonishment, though Leafstar could tell that she wasn’t really surprised. This was all part of their game. “What do you want, then?” she asked.
“I want to live with Twolegs,” Nettlekit declared. “Then I won’t have to hunt for food anymore, or sleep on moldy moss—with your paws in my mouth!” he added to his sister, drawing back his lips in a tiny snarl. “You take up far too much room!”
Paws pattered up behind Leafstar, and Fallowfern appeared, to stand at the foot of the Rockpile with her neck fur bristling angrily. “Come down from there at once!” she ordered. “Sorry,” she added, with an embarrassed glance at Leafstar.
“Don’t worry about it,” Leafstar responded as the kits came tumbling down from the pile of boulders. She knew she couldn’t make an issue out of what she had just seen. They were just playing, nothing more. “If you don’t want to be apprentices, that’s fine,” she told them, shrugging as if she didn’t care. “If you don’t want to learn how to hunt and climb trees and patrol the borders…”
“No! No!” Rabbitkit squeaked, jumping up and down. “We want to do all that.”
“Please!” Nettlekit begged. “It was only a game.”
Plumkit and Creekkit just stood watching Leafstar, their eyes wide with dismay.
“Don’t worry, kits,” Leafstar mewed, brushing their heads gently with her tail. “I’m sure you’ll all learn well when the time comes. Go with your mother now.”
Trying to ignore the churning in her belly, Leafstar made for her den. But before she reached the bottom of the trail, she spotted Sharpclaw again, crouched in the shadow of a boulder with Stick, Sparrowpelt, and Coal. The soft murmur of their voices was cut off as she padded past, and they all turned their heads to watch her.
What have they been discussing that they don’t want me to hear?
Her pelt prickling, she wanted to stop and confront them. But she suspected she wouldn’t get a straight answer, so she simply nodded and went on.
“I’m going to be the best at training!” she heard Rabbitkit boast behind her as Fallowfern herded her rambunctious litter up to the nursery.
“No, I am!” Plumkit argued. “And I’ll be so brave and loyal…”
It’s true, they will. Their game today would be forgotten when the next adventure cropped up. Feeling more optimistic, Leafstar bounded up the trail to her den. Curling deep into the moss and bracken of her nest, she closed her eyes, but for the moment she didn’t try to sleep. She tried to picture where Billystorm might be now, and what his Twoleg den was like. Is it like Snookthorn’s nest, all hard-edged and shut away from the sky?
Gradually sleep crept up on her and she imagined herself prowling around a Twoleg nest, wailing as she tried to get into Billystorm’s den. Her ears picked up the sound of cats padding softly with hushed whispers, and she imagined that kittypets were surrounding her, closing in, angry because she was invading their territory…
Leafstar’s eyes flew open and she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the familiar curved walls of her den, silvered by the moonlight seeping through the entrance. There were no hostile kittypets, but she could still hear the soft sounds of her dream. She rose to her paws, shaking moss from her pelt, and crept to the entrance of her den. Poking her head out, she stared across the cliff face to the trail that led to the cliff top.
Sharpclaw was padding up the narrow path, his dark ginger fur almost black in the icy light. Behind him were Stick, Cora, and Shorty, and behind them several more of her warriors. They paused briefly to talk to Coal, who was on watch halfway up the cliff, then continued silently up the trail.
So many! Leafstar thought, staring at them in dismay. Where is Sharpclaw taking them?
Chapter 30
For a few heartbeats Leafstar crouched frozen in the mouth of her den. Then, setting down her paws as lightly as if she was stalking a squirrel, she crept out and headed for the top of the cliff. She made a wide detour around Coal, who was gazing down into the gorge, unaware that his leader was sneaking past him. The moon was a claw-scratch, low in the sky, giving just enough light for Leafstar to make out which of her warriors were following Sharpclaw and the cats from the Twolegplace.
Rockshade, his black pelt no more than a moving shadow. Cherrytail, her excited bounce as she reached the cliff top giving her away. Sparrowpelt, his tabby fur a flicker of light and shade.
Pulling herself up onto level ground, Leafstar paused, watching the patrol as it headed across the open ground to the Twolegplace. Their confident strides told her that they had done this many times before.
Billystorm was right!
Creeping along with her belly fur brushing the grass, Leafstar followed, thankful that the breeze was blowing toward her; her scent wouldn’t alert Sharpclaw that she was tracking his paw steps. At the edge of the Twolegplace she hid behind a boulder and watched as Stick lined up the patrol along the edge of the Thunderpath.
“There’s not as much chance of monsters after dark,” the Twolegplace cat meowed. “But you still need to be careful. Don’t look into their eyes. They can freeze you like a scared rabbit.”
Who put you in charge? Leafstar wondered, thinking that Stick sounded like a mentor teaching a group of apprentices.
The growl of an approaching monster drowned out Stick’s next words. It swept past, its glaring eyes angling over the row of cats; Leafstar blinked as they were outlined as dark shapes against the dazzle.
When the noise had died away, Stick glanced both ways along the Thunderpath, then raised his tail. “Now!”
The patrol pounded over the black stone and vanished into the shadows on the opposite side. Leafstar followed more cautiously, forcing her legs not to shake as she crossed the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She had lost sight of the patrol, but their scent trail was fresh and strong; she followed it over a fence into an enclosed space behind a Twoleg nest, where she spotted them again, slinking alongside the stretch of flat, green grass under cover of the overhanging branches of bushes.
On the opposite side of the grass, Stick beckoned with his tail and hissed, “This way!” He slithered under a gate into an alley, and the rest of the patrol followed him, with Shorty at the rear. The brown tom seemed to be keeping a lookout; Leafstar shrank into the shadow of a holly bush until he too had vanished under the gate.