“Great StarClan!” Lionblaze exclaimed, his neck fur rising. “Are we under attack?”
While Sorreltail was struggling to get her breath back, Firestar appeared from his den on the Highledge, then ran lightly down the tumbled rocks to the floor of the hollow. Sandstorm leaped down behind him, while Dustpelt and Brackenfur bounded over from the fresh-kill pile.
“What’s going on?” Firestar demanded as he halted in front of Sorreltail’s patrol.
“Trouble on the WindClan border,” Sorreltail explained. “Birchfall and Ivypool got into an argument with some WindClan cats. I think if we hadn’t turned up, there would have been a fight.”
“Is this true?” Firestar asked, fixing his green gaze on Birchfall and Ivypool.
For the first time Lionblaze noticed that Birchfall was looking sulky, while the tip of Ivypool’s tail flicked irritably to and fro.
“They started it,” Birchfall mewed defensively. “They didn’t want to let us wash our paws in the stream.”
“We weren’t on their territory,” Ivypool added. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“For StarClan’s sake!” Dustpelt snapped, before Firestar could respond. “Aren’t the tensions high enough between the Clans, without going out to look for more trouble?”
“We weren’t looking for it!” Ivypool flashed back at him.
As Firestar raised his tail for silence, Brackenfur padded to Sorreltail’s side and touched her ear lightly with his nose. “I hope you haven’t been getting into any skirmishes,” he murmured.
His mate blinked at him affectionately. “No. But it’s no thanks to these mouse-brains.”
“Mouse-brain yourself!” Birchfall retorted.
“Let’s all keep calm,” Firestar meowed, padding into the middle of the hostile group. “No cat is saying you broke the warrior code,” he went on to Birchfall and Ivypool, “but washing your paws on the WindClan border wasn’t the most sensible thing you’ve ever done.”
“Yes, what’s wrong with the lake?” Sandstorm put in.
Ivypool opened her jaws to reply, but just then excited squealing came from the direction of the nursery. Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder to see Molekit and Cherrykit scampering up.
“What’s happening?” Cherrykit demanded, her tail straight up in the air with excitement. “Can we help?”
“Tell us what to do!” Molekit puffed his chest out importantly. “Who are we going to fight?”
Lionblaze felt warmed by the kits’ enthusiasm. They were almost six moons old, ready to be apprentices, and their mother, Poppyfrost, was ready to return to warrior duties. He bent his head and touched noses with each kit in turn. “Settle down,” he purred. “WindClan isn’t about to attack. You can put your claws away.”
Straightening up again, he caught Cinderheart’s blue gaze, and saw a flash of pain in her eyes. He understood exactly how she was feeling. We could have kits of our own, as soon as you like, if you could only get past the prophecy. He suppressed a growl of frustration that the gray she-cat found his destiny such a big obstacle. I didn’t ask to be picked out by StarClan before I was even born!
“Having fun with the kits?” Brightheart asked, padding up with her mate, Cloudtail. “You’ll be a great father one day, Lionblaze.”
And that doesn’t help, either, Lionblaze thought, his fur itching with embarrassment.
More cats emerged from the thorn tunnel. Mousewhisker was in the lead, ahead of Dovewing, Icecloud, and Toadstep. Dovewing held a squirrel clamped in her jaws, while Icecloud was carrying a blackbird. They padded into the center of the clearing, casting curious glances at the group of cats around Firestar, then headed for the fresh-kill pile to deposit their prey. Most of the other cats drifted after them, the argument about the encounter with WindClan breaking up.
As soon as Dovewing had dropped her squirrel, Purdy padded up to her from the elders’ den. “Hey, young ‘un,” he began, “it was you collectin’ moss this morning, wasn’t it?”
Dovewing tipped her head on one side. “Yes, Whitewing and I fetched it. Is there a problem?”
“It’s really dry an’ prickly,” Purdy meowed, blinking apologetically. “I don’t want to fuss, but Mousefur can’t get comfortable.”
Lionblaze glanced across at the elders’ den to see Mousefur crouched at the entrance, her head lowered. A pang of pity clawed at him; the outspoken old she-cat hadn’t been the same since her denmate Longtail was killed by the falling tree. Lionblaze would have given anything to hear Mousefur complain about her own prickly moss.
“I’m sorry,” Dovewing mewed. “I thought I got all the thorns out. I’ll go through the bedding again, if you like.”
“No, that’s going to take forever,” Graystripe put in; he and Millie were sharing a vole beside the fresh-kill pile. “Bumblestripe and Blossomfall can go out and find some feathers. That should be soft enough.”
“That is so not fair!” Blossomfall exclaimed, looking up from choosing a piece of fresh-kill.
“Yes, we always get the boring jobs.” Bumblestripe came to stand beside his sister. “Just because there aren’t any apprentices in the Clan! When will some of the older warriors do the apprentice duties for a change?”
Graystripe narrowed his amber eyes. “Maybe when you learn not to answer back to a senior warrior,” he rasped.
Bumblestripe and Blossomfall exchanged mutinous glances, but before either of them could reply, Sandstorm padded up to Graystripe and gave him a poke in the side. “Come on, Graystripe,” she meowed. “You’re always tougher on your own kits than the rest of the Clan. They have a point. They’re warriors, but they do get stuck with the apprentice tasks. I’ll go with you,” she added to the two younger warriors.
“No, I’ve got a better idea.” Firestar bounded over to the rockfall that led up to his den and sprang onto one of the boulders at the bottom. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” he called.
Most of the cats were already out in the clearing, and they gathered around Firestar with murmurs of surprise. Lionblaze headed to sit beside Cinderheart, noticing that Jayfeather had emerged from his den and was crouched beside Briarlight, who had dragged herself to the edge of the bramble screen. Daisy, Poppyfrost, and Ferncloud slipped out of the nursery and sat together at the edge of the crowd.
“Foxleap, Rosepetal, come and stand here with me,” Firestar continued.
Exchanging mystified glances, the two warriors rose to their paws and joined their Clan leader at the foot of the cliff.
“Since the Clan is having problems because of the shortage of apprentices,” Firestar went on, “I think the best solution is to create some more. Molekit and Cherrykit—”
“What?” Molekit exclaimed, springing to his paws with every hair on his pelt fluffed out until he looked twice his size.
“Us?” Cherrykit bounced up and down with excitement. “Oh, cool!”
“Firestar, you can’t!” Poppyfrost leaped up, her paws pattering as she raced across the clearing to her kits. “We’ve had no warning! They’re so untidy—Molekit, just look at your pelt!”
She flung herself on the little tom, licking frantically, while Berrynose got up and hurried over to groom Cherrykit. Lionblaze thought the warrior looked as proud as if it were his own apprentice ceremony.
Firestar looked on for a moment with a purr of amusement, then beckoned the two kits with a wave of his tail. “They’re fine,” he meowed. “Come over here and stand in front of me.”
The two kits obeyed him, their fur still rumpled and sticking up here and there. Firestar reached out with his tail and touched Cherrykit on the shoulder. “From this time forward,” he announced, “this kit will be known as Cherrypaw. Foxleap, you have shown courage and perseverance in serving your Clan, and I trust that you will pass on these qualities to your apprentice.”