“This is hopeless!” he hissed. “We can’t even get out of our own territory without running into trouble. Thanks to that apprentice!” he added, turning his glare on Dovepaw.
Lionblaze saw Dovepaw stiffen, the fur on her neck and shoulders beginning to rise. Toadfoot, you mouse-brain, it was you who led us straight into the Twolegs! he thought. He stretched out his tail to give Dovepaw a calming touch on her shoulder. “Young cats are curious,” he replied, his voice level. “If the Twolegs weren’t crazy, this would never have happened.”
Toadfoot let out an angry snort. “This quest is over before it’s begun,” he growled. “We don’t even know what we’re going to find at the end of the stream. What makes us think we can refill the lake when we panic over a few Twolegs?”
“I think you’re wrong,” Whitetail stated; she was still trembling, but she stood squarely in front of the young ShadowClan warrior. “Okay, we had a narrow escape, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up. We’re not helping our Clans by staying in our own territories and watching the lake shrink even further.”
Rippletail, who was crouched beside the shivering Petalfur, trying to comfort her, looked up at that, his neck fur bristling. “Are you trying to blame RiverClan? None of you realizes how hard this is for us. We need the lake for food!”
“No, I’m not blaming you!” Whitetail replied indignantly. “What did I say that would make you think that?”
Lionblaze rose to his paws and stepped between Whitetail and the enraged RiverClan warrior. “We’re wasting time,” he meowed. “We need to keep going. Next time we’ll avoid the Twolegs.”
“If there is a next time, you—” Toadfoot began.
“Hey, we survived, didn’t we?” Tigerheart interrupted his Clanmate. Of all the cats, Lionblaze thought Tigerheart was the least affected by their danger; his eyes were gleaming, as if he had enjoyed the excitement. “We showed those dumb Twolegs! They were terrified! Who cares if we meet them again?” Turning to Dovepaw, he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Lionblaze felt faintly amused as he saw Dovepaw’s jaws drop open in outrage. “I can protect myself!”
“We can all look after ourselves.” Sedgewhisker unexpectedly backed Dovepaw up. “After all, that’s why we were chosen, right? Because our Clans thought we had the best chance of solving the problem with the stream?”
“That’s true,” Lionblaze meowed.
Petalfur raised her head; she was still shaking so much she could hardly speak, but she gazed bravely at the other cats. “I think we should go on,” she mewed. “I’ve watched my Clanmates starving around me, and I can’t do that anymore! Thinking of that gives me courage.”
“Well said, Petalfur,” Whitetail mewed quietly.
“Then we keep going.” Lionblaze spoke before Toadfoot had a chance to argue. With a glance at the ShadowClan warrior, he added, “And since we’re in ThunderClan territory now, I’ll take the lead.”
Chapter 13
Lionblaze cast sidelong glances at Dovepaw as she padded beside him along the narrow trails underneath the ferns. Her fur was still standing on end from the encounter with the Twolegs, and he could see a ring of white around her eyes.
Were we wrong to bring her? he wondered. She’s been apprenticed for only a moon. He shook his head. No, we need her, he told himself. Lionblaze thought of the time he had journeyed into the mountains with his littermates, to the Tribe of Rushing Water. They had only been apprentices then, and they’d managed fine. Dovepaw will be fine, too. She has to be.
The sun was rising higher in the sky when the cats approached the point where the stream veered off into ShadowClan territory. Lionblaze halted and gazed across the dried-up streambed into the pine forests, where brown needles covered the ground and the undergrowth was patchy.
Toadfoot padded up. “I think we should rest here for a while and eat,” he meowed. He nodded toward the two RiverClan cats. “They look ready to fall over.”
Lionblaze didn’t like his sneering tone, and he didn’t want to side with Toadfoot against the other Clans, but he had to admit that the ShadowClan warrior was right. All the cats were tired from fleeing the Twolegs, and from the increasing heat, but Rippletail and Petalfur looked exhausted. Petalfur had already flopped down on her side among the ferns, breathing heavily.
I’m not surprised the RiverClan cats are finding it hard, Lionblaze thought. They’re better at swimming than walking.
“Okay, we’ll rest.” Lionblaze raised his voice so all the cats could hear him. “ThunderClan and ShadowClan will hunt, each in our own territories.”
“We can hunt for ourselves,” Whitetail pointed out with a glance at Sedgewhisker.
“Sure,” the tabby she-cat agreed.
“That would be prey-stealing!” Toadfoot snapped.
Whitetail sighed. “But it’s not stealing if you catch it and give it to us? Can’t you just give us permission and make it easier for every cat?”
Lionblaze guessed she wanted to add mouse-brain, but she restrained herself. At least Toadfoot didn’t insult them by saying they only know how to catch rabbits, he thought.
“We’ll do it Toadfoot’s way,” he mewed peaceably to Whitetail. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to hunt for us all later.” Even though he could see the WindClan warrior’s point, he didn’t want to risk them running into a ThunderClan or ShadowClan patrol. They’d had enough delays already with the Twolegs.
The WindClan she-cat hesitated for a moment, then gave him a curt nod.
Lionblaze led Dovepaw deeper into ThunderClan territory, feeling safer and more relaxed to be on familiar ground. “You go that way,” he suggested to his apprentice, angling his ears around the edge of a hazel thicket. “There might be some prey under the bushes. I’ll go this way and meet you back at the border.”
“Okay.” Dovepaw stalked off, setting her paws down lightly, her ears pricked and her jaws parted to scent the air.
I hope she finds something really good, Lionblaze thought as he watched her out of sight. That’ll show Toadfoot! He padded into the trees in the opposite direction and almost at once spotted a squirrel out in the open, scraping at something underneath the leaves on the forest floor.
Excellent!
Dropping into the hunter’s crouch, Lionblaze crept silently up on his prey, his belly fur brushing the ground. There was no wind to carry his scent, and he was sure he hadn’t made a sound, but before he had covered half the distance the squirrel started up in alarm and launched itself toward the nearest tree.
“Mouse dung!” Lionblaze spat.
He hurled himself after it, realizing with a surge of triumph that there was something wrong with the squirrel; it was limping, so that he soon overtook it and killed it with a blow to the spine before it reached the tree.
I hope it hasn’t got some horrible disease, he thought as he looked down at the limp body. He gave it a cautious sniff. It smelled fine—mouthwateringly good, in fact. Picking up his fresh-kill, he headed back toward the border. Dovepaw caught up to him when he was almost there, with a tiny mouse dangling from her jaws.
“Sorry,” she mumbled around it. “This was all I could find.”
Lionblaze sighed. If Dovepaw couldn’t find any prey, then there wasn’t any prey to be found. “Don’t worry,” he mewed. “It’s better than nothing.”