Kitabı oku: «MOONRISE», sayfa 3

CHAPTER 3

“You lot stay here,” Purdy ordered in an undertone. “Let me deal with this.”

Stormfur stared in dismay as the old tom shuffled forwards towards the foxes, his rumpled fur on end, his tail lashing back and forth. Frozen by shock, the others might have let Purdy attack and be torn to pieces if Stormfur had not stepped forwards at the last moment and pushed him aside.

“Wha’?” Purdy protested. “Let me get at ’em. I’ve chased off more foxes than you’ve had mice, young fellow.”

“Then give the rest of us a chance,” Stormfur retorted grimly.

The two foxes were creeping slowly up the bank, their eyes flicking from one cat to the next. Too late Stormfur realised that he and his friends had been wrong to assume the woods held no danger for them.

He saw that Crowpaw had stepped forwards to shield Feathertail, while Brambleclaw tried to do the same for Squirrelpaw. But the ThunderClan apprentice slipped out from the shelter of his flank and stood beside him with her ears flattened and one paw extended threateningly.

“What are you doing, treading on my tail?” she growled. “I can take care of myself!”

“You did say you could eat a fox,” Tawnypelt pointed out wryly. “Now’s your chance.”

The foxes crept nearer. Stormfur braced himself, his gaze fixed on their narrow snouts and coldly glittering eyes, trying to guess where they would attack first. Back home, foxes weren’t much of a threat to cats who kept alert. They could be avoided, but these were obviously young and spoiling for a fight, eager to defend their territory. Stormfur was sure that the six of them could drive the creatures off eventually, but not without serious injuries. And what would that mean for their journey? StarClan help us! he prayed desperately.

Crowpaw, who was nearest to the foxes, crouched to spring. There was barely a tail-length between him and the first of them when Stormfur heard a strange sound behind him, half growling and half barking. The leading fox abruptly lifted its head and stood very still.

Stormfur flicked a glance over his shoulder. Midnight had lumbered forwards, thrusting her way between Purdy and Feathertail until she stood in front of the foxes. She said something else in the same mixture of barks and growls. Although Stormfur could not understand what she was saying, there was no mistaking the threat in the way her shoulders hunched, or the hostility in her black eyes.

Then his ears pricked in shock as the first fox barked what was obviously a reply. “I’d forgotten Midnight told us she could speak fox,” he muttered, glancing at Brambleclaw. The ThunderClan warrior nodded without taking his eyes off the foxes.

“They say this is their place,” Midnight reported. “To come here is to be their prey.”

“Fox dung to that!” Crowpaw burst out. “Tell them if they try anything, we’ll rip their fur off.”

Midnight shook her head. “No, small warrior. Cat fur be ripped also. Wait.”

Crowpaw backed off a pace or two, still looking furious, and Feathertail pressed her nose against his flank.

Midnight said something else to the foxes. “I tell them you only pass through,” she explained to the cats when she had finished. “I tell them much prey is here in woods, easier prey that does not rip fur.”

The leading fox was looking confused now, perhaps out of surprise at hearing a badger speak fox, perhaps because it was taking her arguments seriously. But the second—a lean dog fox with a scarred muzzle—was still glaring past Midnight at the group of cats, his teeth bared. He snarled out something that was a threat in any language.

Midnight barked a single word. Taking a step forwards, she raised a paw, her massive body poised to strike. Every hair on Stormfur’s pelt prickled as he braced himself for a fight. Then the dog fox started to back away, growling a last curse at Midnight before turning and vanishing into the bracken. Midnight’s gaze swivelled to his companion, but the other fox paused only to bark out something rapidly before following.

“And don’t come back, if you know what’s good for you!” Crowpaw yowled after them.

Stormfur relaxed, feeling his fur lie flat again. Squirrelpaw flopped down on the ground with a noisy sigh. All the cats, even Purdy, were looking at the badger with new respect.

Brambleclaw padded over to her and dipped his head. “Thanks, Midnight,” he meowed. “That could have been nasty.”

“They might have killed us,” Feathertail added.

“I suppose it’s a bad time for a fight,” Crowpaw admitted. Stormfur sighed at the aggressive note in the apprentice’s voice as he went on, “All the same, I’d like to know why you didn’t warn us about the foxes. You said you can read everything in the stars, so why didn’t you tell us they’d be here?”

Even though he would never have asked the question, Stormfur waited tensely for Midnight’s reply. She had told them so much already about the threat to the forest and how they must go home and lead the Clans to safety. If they did not trust her, they and all their Clanmates would be helpless in the face of destruction. Could she have warned them about the foxes?

For a moment the badger loomed over the WindClan apprentice, her black eyes furious. Crowpaw could not hide a flash of alarm in his eyes, though to his credit he did not back down. Then Midnight relaxed. “I not say everything. Everything indeed StarClan not want me to say. Much, yes, how Twolegs tear up forest, leave no place for cats to stay. But many answers lie within ourselves. This you have already learned, no?”

“I suppose,” Crowpaw muttered.

Midnight turned away from him. “Foxes say you must go now,” she told the cats. “If you still here at sunset, they attack. That dog fox, he says he tasted cat once, liked it fine.”

“Well, he’s not going to taste it again!” snapped Tawnypelt.

“We have to leave anyway,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “And we’re not looking for trouble from foxes. Let’s go.”

They paused for a few moments to gulp down the rest of the prey. Then Midnight took the lead, and brought them after a short time to the edge of the forest. The sun was dipping below the trees, and where they stood was already in shadow. In front of them, Stormfur saw yet more open moorland, with a range of mountains in the distance; over to one side were the hard reddish shapes of the Twolegplace they had travelled through on the outward journey.

“Which way now?” he asked.

Midnight raised one paw to point straight ahead. “That quickest way, path where sun rises.”

“It’s not the way we came,” Brambleclaw mewed uneasily. “We came through Twolegplace.”

“And I’m not going back there!” Crowpaw put in. “I’ll climb as many mountains as you like before I face all those Twolegs again.”

“I’m not sure,” Feathertail meowed. “At least we know the way through Twolegplace, and we’ve got Purdy to help us.”

Crowpaw replied only with a contemptuous snort. Stormfur half agreed with him; they had spent many frightening, hungry days wandering in Twolegplace, and Purdy had seemed as lost as any of them. But the mountains were unfamiliar too; even from here, Stormfur could see that their upper slopes were bare grey rock, with a streak of white here and there that must be the first snow of the approaching leaf-bare. They were far higher than Highstones, and he wondered how much shelter or prey they would find there.

“I agree with Feathertail,” he meowed at last. “We made it through Twolegplace once, so we can do it again.”

Brambleclaw glanced from one to another, undecided. “What do you think, Tawnypelt?”

His sister shrugged. “Whatever you like. There’ll be problems whichever way we go; we all know that.”

True enough, Stormfur thought grimly.

“Well, I think—” Squirrelpaw began, and broke off with a gasp. Her green eyes had widened with an expression of horror; they seemed to be fixed on something in the distance that no other cat could see.

“Squirrelpaw? What’s the matter?” Brambleclaw meowed urgently.

“I . . . I don’t know.” Squirrelpaw gave herself a shake. “Just make your mind up, Brambleclaw, and let’s be off. I want to go that way if it’s the quickest route—” She flicked her tail towards the distant mountains. “We’ll waste days and days going through Twolegplace again.”

Stormfur’s whiskers began to tingle. Squirrelpaw was right. They already knew that the route among the Twoleg nests was confusing and difficult. What dangers could there be in the mountains that could be worse than the rats and monsters they knew they would meet in Twolegplace? All that mattered was to get back to the forest without delay.

“I think she’s got a point,” he meowed. “I’ve changed my mind. I vote we should go through the mountains.”

Squirrelpaw’s dark ginger tail twitched to and fro, and she flexed her claws into the grass. “Well?” she spat at Brambleclaw. “Are you going to make up your mind or not?”

Brambleclaw took a deep breath. “OK, the mountains it is.”

“Eh? Wha’?” Purdy had been scratching one ear with his hind paw. But when Brambleclaw made his decision he looked up in alarm, blinking his wide amber eyes. “You can’t go that way. It’s dangerous. What about the—”

“Danger is all around,” Midnight broke in, silencing Purdy with a fierce glare. “Your friends great courage will need. The path has been laid out for them in the stars.”

Stormfur shot a sharp look at the old tabby. What had Purdy been trying to say when Midnight interrupted him? Did he know of some particular danger in the mountains? And if so, why had Midnight stopped him from telling the rest of them? He thought that he could see wisdom in her face, and something like regret. Just what did she mean by “the path has been laid out”?

“Choice is hard, young warrior.” The badger spoke in a low tone to Brambleclaw. Stormfur edged a pace closer so that he could hear. “Your path before you lies, and many challenges you will have to return safe home.”

Brambleclaw gazed into the badger’s eyes for a long moment before padding forwards a few paces across the moorland. Whatever these challenges might be, he seemed ready to face them, and Stormfur couldn’t help admiring his resolve, even though he came from a rival Clan. When Purdy scrambled to his feet to follow, Midnight put out a paw to hold him back.

The old tom bristled, his amber eyes glaring. “Get out o’ my way,” he rasped.

Midnight did not move. “With them you cannot go,” she rumbled. “The way is theirs alone.” Her black eyes gleamed in the dusk. “Young and rash they are, and tests will be many. Their own courage they need, my friend, not yours. Too much on you they would rely.”

Purdy blinked. “Well, if you put it like that . . .”

Feathertail darted up to him and gave his ears a quick lick. “We’ll never forget you, Purdy, or everything you’ve done for us.”

Just behind her, Crowpaw opened his mouth with his eyes narrowed, as if he was about to say something cutting. Stormfur froze him with a glare. He doubted they would see the old cat again, and although Purdy had made mistakes, he had stood by them and brought them safely to Midnight in the end.

“Goodbye, Purdy. And thank you. We could never have found Midnight without you.” Brambleclaw echoed Stormfur’s thoughts. “And thank you, too, Midnight.”

The badger inclined her head. “Farewell, my friends. May StarClan light your path.”

The rest of the cats said their own goodbyes, and began to follow Brambleclaw out on to the moor. Stormfur brought up the rear. Glancing back, he saw Midnight and Purdy sitting side by side under the outlying trees, watching them go. It was impossible to read their expressions in the gathering dusk. Stormfur waved his tail in a last farewell, and turned his face toward the mountains.

CHAPTER 4

At Firestar’s yowl of command, Brackenfur and the grey ShadowClan warrior broke apart. Greystripe looked up from the tabby, but still kept a paw firmly on his neck.

“Let him go,” Firestar ordered. “We’re not here to fight.”

“It’s hard to do anything else when they jump us like that,” Greystripe hissed. He stepped back, and the skinny tabby scrambled to his paws and shook his ruffled fur.

Leafpaw bounded across the marshy ground to stand beside Cinderpelt, half afraid that Russetfur might still attack the medicine cat. ShadowClan’s deputy was not likely to take orders from the leader of a rival Clan.

Russetfur flicked her tail towards the dark grey tom. “Cedarheart, get back to camp. Warn Blackstar that we have been invaded, and fetch more warriors.”

The grey warrior streaked off into the bushes.

“There’s no need for that,” Firestar pointed out, keeping his voice mild. “We’re not invading your territory, and we’re not trying to steal prey.”

“Then what do you want?” Russetfur demanded bad-temperedly. “What are we supposed to think when you trespass on our territory?”

“I’m sorry about that.” Firestar leaped down from the tree trunk and padded across to her. “I . . . I know we shouldn’t be here. It’s just that I have to speak to Blackstar. Something has happened, something that’s too urgent to wait for the next Gathering.”

Russetfur sniffed disbelievingly, but sheathed her claws. Leafpaw felt her racing heart begin to slow down. The ShadowClan deputy was too badly outnumbered to launch another attack, especially when she had sent away the grey tom, Cedarheart.

“What’s so urgent then?” she growled.

Firestar gestured with his tail through the sparse trees, towards the swath of destruction that the Twoleg monster had left on this side of the Thunderpath. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked desperately.

Russetfur silenced him with a furious hiss. “If you think ShadowClan is weakened . . .”

“I didn’t say that,” Firestar protested. “But you must have seen that we’ve had the same trouble in our territory. Now, are you going to drive us off, or are you going to let us talk to Blackstar?”

Russetfur narrowed her eyes, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Follow me.”

She led the way through the bushes. The ThunderClan cats bunched together behind her, and the tabby ShadowClan warrior brought up the rear. Leafpaw’s heart began to pound again as the scents of the strange territory flowed around her. Even the day had grown darker, clouds covering the sun so that their path was shadowed. She tried to stop herself from jumping at every sound, or staring around as if there might be a ShadowClan warrior lurking behind every tree.

Soon Leafpaw became aware of a stronger ShadowClan scent coming from up ahead. Russetfur led the way around a thick clump of hazel; following her, Leafpaw stopped dead in front of a long line of cats—lean warriors with their muscles tensed and the light of battle in their eyes. Behind them rose a tangled wall of brambles.

“That’s the ShadowClan camp,” Cinderpelt muttered close to Leafpaw’s ear. “It doesn’t look as if Blackstar is going to invite us in.”

The ShadowClan leader stood in the middle of his warriors. He was a huge white cat with black paws; his pelt showed the scars of many battles. As the ThunderClan cats appeared he stepped forward and faced Firestar with narrowed eyes.

“What’s this?” His voice was rough. “Does the great Firestar think he can go where he likes in the forest?”

Firestar ignored the contempt in Blackstar’s tone, simply dipping his head in the courteous greeting of one leader to another. “I have come to talk to you about what the Twolegs are doing,” he began. “We have to decide what we’re going to do if it carries on.”

“We? What do you mean, we? ShadowClan does not talk with ThunderClan,” Blackstar retorted. “We make our own decisions.”

“But the forest is being destroyed!”

Leafpaw heard the exasperation in her leader’s tone, and knew how hard it was for Firestar to stay calm when the ShadowClan leader insisted on treating him like an enemy.

The ShadowClan leader shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Firestar, you’re panicking over nothing. Twolegs are mad. Even the smallest kit knows that. True, they knocked down a few trees—but now they’ve gone away again. Whatever was going on, it’s over.”

Leafpaw wondered if Blackstar really believed that. Surely he couldn’t be such a fool? Or was this just a show of bravado to convince Firestar that ShadowClan had nothing to worry about?

“And if it’s not over?” Firestar asked steadily. “If it gets worse? Prey has been frightened away from where the Twolegs have been. What if the Twolegs claw up more of our territories? What will you do in leaf-bare, Blackstar, if you can’t feed your Clan?”

One or two of the ShadowClan warriors looked uneasy, but their leader stared defiantly at Firestar.

“We have no reason to fear leaf-bare,” he meowed. “We can always eat rats from Carrionplace.”

Cinderpelt twitched her ears impatiently. “Have you forgotten what happened last time you tried that? Half your Clan died from sickness.”

“That’s true.” A small tabby tom, crouched at the end of the line, spoke up boldly. Leafpaw recognised Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I was ill myself. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you, Cinderpelt.”

“Be quiet, Littlecloud,” Blackstar ordered. “The sickness was a punishment from StarClan because Nightstar was not a properly chosen leader. There’s no danger in eating food from Carrionplace now.”

“There’s danger if a leader silences his medicine cat,” Cinderpelt retorted tartly. “Or pretends to know more than they do about the will of StarClan.”

Blackstar glared at her, but said nothing.

“Listen to me,” Firestar began again desperately. “I believe that great trouble is coming to the forest, trouble that we’ll survive only if we work together.”

“Mouse dung!” Blackstar snarled. “Don’t try to tell me what to do, Firestar. I’m not one of your warriors. If you have anything to say, you should do what we have always done, and bring it to the next Gathering at Fourtrees.”

Part of Leafpaw felt that the ShadowClan leader was right. The warrior code dictated that the business of the forest should be discussed at Gatherings. There was nowhere else that cats could meet under the sacred truce of StarClan. At the same time, she knew that the Twolegs wouldn’t wait until after the next full moon to continue their destruction of the forest. What else might happen by the time of the next Gathering?

“Very well, Blackstar.” Firestar’s voice was hollow with defeat. It’s happening, Leafpaw thought in panic. He’s giving up. The forest is going to be destroyed. “If that’s the way you want it. But if the Twolegs come back, you have my permission to send a messenger into ThunderClan territory, and we will talk again.”

“Generous as always, Firestar.” Blackstar meowed scornfully. “But nothing’s going to happen that we can’t handle ourselves.”

“Mouse-brain!” Greystripe hissed.

Firestar shot Greystripe a warning glance, but the ShadowClan leader did not reply. Instead, he swept his tail towards Russetfur.

“Take some warriors and escort these cats off our territory,” he ordered. “And in case you were thinking of paying us another uninvited visit,” he added to Firestar, “we’ll be increasing our patrols along that border. Now go.”

There was nothing to do but obey. Firestar turned and signalled to his own cats to follow him. Russetfur and her warriors gathered around them in a threatening semicircle, letting them walk away but keeping them bunched tightly together. Leafpaw was glad when the tunnel under the Thunderpath came into sight, and more relieved still to be through it and heading for their own part of the forest.

“And don’t come back!” Russetfur spat as they crossed the border.

“We won’t!” Greystripe hurled a parting shot over his shoulder. “We were only trying to help, you stupid furball.”

“Leave it, Greystripe.” Now that they were back in their own territory, Firestar let his disappointment show. Leafpaw felt a sharp stab of compassion for him; it wasn’t his fault that ShadowClan had refused to listen to reason.

“Maybe we should try talking to WindClan?” she suggested quietly to Cinderpelt as the patrol headed for camp. “Perhaps they’ve had trouble too. That could be why they’ve been stealing fish from RiverClan.” She was referring to the furious accusations made by Hawkfrost, a RiverClan warrior, at the last Gathering.

“If they have. It was never proved,” Cinderpelt reminded her. “All the same, Leafpaw, you might have a point. Ravenpaw said there were more Twolegs than usual on that part of the Thunderpath.”

“Then perhaps Firestar should talk to Tallstar?”

“I don’t think Firestar will be talking to any more Clan leaders for a while,” Cinderpelt meowed, with a sympathetic glance at the flame-coloured tom. “Besides, Tallstar is a proud leader. He’d never admit that his Clan is starving.”

“But Firestar has to do something!”

“Perhaps Blackstar was right, and he should wait for the Gathering. But if I get the chance”—Cinderpelt interrupted her apprentice’s protest—“I’ll have a word with him.” She lifted her blue gaze to the cloud-covered sky. “And let’s just pray that StarClan has mercy on us, whatever happens.”

“Sorreltail, are you there?”

Leafpaw stood outside the warriors’ den and tried to peer through the branches. It was early the following morning; a thick fog covered the camp and misted her fur with tiny droplets of water.

“Sorreltail?” she repeated.

There was a scuffling sound inside the den, and Sorreltail poked her head out, blinking sleep from her eyes.

“Leafpaw?” Her jaws gaped wide in a yawn. “What’s the matter? The sun’s not up yet. I was having this terrific dream about a mouse . . .”

“Sorry,” Leafpaw mewed. “But I want you to do something with me. Are you due to go out with the dawn patrol?”

“No.” Sorreltail squeezed out between the branches and gave the fur on her shoulders a quick lick. “What’s all this about?”

Leafpaw took a deep breath. “I want to go and visit WindClan. Will you come with me?”

Sorreltail’s eyes stretched wide, and her tail curled up in surprise. “What if we meet a WindClan patrol?”

“It should be OK—I’m a medicine cat apprentice, so I’m allowed to go into the territories between here and Highstones. Please, Sorreltail! I really need to know whether WindClan is having trouble too.” Though she couldn’t tell Sorreltail, Leafpaw knew that a cat from every Clan had been chosen by StarClan for the journey. Because of that, she suspected that every Clan would be invaded by the Twolegs, but she wanted to be sure.

The light of adventure was already sparkling in Sorreltail’s eyes. “I’m up for it,” she declared. “Let’s get a move on, before any cat catches us and starts asking questions.”

She darted across the clearing and into the gorse tunnel. Leafpaw followed, with a last glance back at the silent, sleeping camp. The fog hung thickly in the ravine, deadening the sound of their pawsteps. Everything was grey, and though the dawn light was strengthening, there was no sign of the sun. The bracken was bent double with the weight of water drops, and soon the two cats’ pelts were soaked.

Sorreltail shivered. “Why did I ever leave my warm nest?” she complained, only half joking. “Still, if it’s like this on the moor, the fog will help to hide us.”

“And muffle our scent,” Leafpaw agreed.

But before she and Sorreltail reached Fourtrees, the mist had begun to thin out. It still lay heavy on the stream, but when they climbed the opposite bank they broke out into sunlight. Leafpaw shook the moisture from her fur, but there was little heat in the sun’s rays; she looked forward to a good run across the moor to warm herself up.

As they skirted the top of the hollow at Fourtrees, Leafpaw felt a breeze blowing directly off the moorland. She and Sorreltail paused for a moment at the far side of the hollow, their fur blown back and their jaws parted to scent the air.

“WindClan,” Sorreltail meowed. She put her head to one side, uncertainly. “There’s something odd about it, though.”

“Yes. And there’s no sign of any rabbits,” Leafpaw added.

She hesitated for a couple more heartbeats, then led the way across the border. The two cats darted from one clump of gorse to the next, making what use they could of the scant cover on the moorland. Leafpaw’s fur prickled; her tabby-and-white pelt would show up starkly against the short grass. In the ThunderClan camp she had been confident that as a medicine cat she would not be challenged; now she felt small and vulnerable. She wanted to find out what she could, then hurry back to the safety of her own territory.

She headed for the crest of a low hill that looked down over the Thunderpath, and flattened herself in the grass to peer down. Beside her, Sorreltail let out a long hiss.

“Well, there’s not much doubt about that,” she mewed.

Leading from the Thunderpath on the far side of the territory was a long scar where the moorland grass had been torn away. The track was marked by short stakes of wood like the ones Leafpaw had seen in ShadowClan territory the day before. It gouged a path across the moor and came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the hill where she and Sorreltail were crouching. A glittering monster sat silent where it ended. Leafpaw’s breath came in short gasps as she imagined it scanning the moorland, ready to leap on its prey with a roar.

“Where are its Twolegs?” Sorreltail muttered.

Leafpaw glanced from side to side, but everything was quiet; an air of menace lay thick as fog on the scarred landscape. There was still no scent of rabbits—had they been frightened away, Leafpaw wondered, or had the Twolegs taken them? Perhaps they had moved to a different part of the moor when the monster dug up their burrows.

“Yuck!” Sorreltail exclaimed suddenly. “Can you smell that?”

As she spoke, Leafpaw picked it up too, a harsh tang like nothing she had ever scented before. Instinctively her stomach churned and she curled her lip. “What is it?”

“Probably something to do with the Twolegs,” Sorreltail meowed disgustedly.

A distant yowl interrupted her. Leafpaw sprang to her paws and spun around to see three WindClan warriors racing towards them.

“Uh-oh,” murmured Sorreltail.

Before Leafpaw could decide whether to run or stay to talk, the WindClan cats had surrounded them. With a sinking heart she recognised the aggressive deputy Mudclaw, with the tabby warrior Tornear and another tabby tom she did not know. She would rather have dealt with the Clan leader, Tallstar, or Firestar’s friend Onewhisker, who were both more likely to listen to her explanations.

“Why are you trespassing on our territory?” the WindClan deputy demanded.

“I’m a medicine cat apprentice,” Leafpaw pointed out, bowing her head respectfully. “I came to—”

“To spy!” That was Tornear, his eyes blazing with anger. “Don’t think we don’t know what you’re up to!”

Now that the WindClan cats were up close, Leafpaw could see how thin they were. Their bristling pelts hardly covered their ribs. Fear-scent came off them in waves, almost drowning the scent of their fury. They were obviously short of food, but that didn’t explain why they were so much more hostile than ShadowClan had been.

“I’m sorry, we were only—” she began.

Mudclaw interrupted with a frenzied shriek. “Attack!”

Tornear hurled himself at Leafpaw. The ThunderClan cats were outnumbered and outclassed; besides, she and Sorreltail had not come to fight.

“Run!” Leafpaw yowled.

She leaped back from Tornear’s outstretched claws. Spinning round, she fled for the border, her belly close to the ground and her tail streaming out behind her. Sorreltail raced along at her side. Leafpaw dared not look over her shoulder, but she could hear the shrieks of the pursuing cats hard on their paws.

The border was in sight, but she barely had time to realise that they were bearing too far towards the river when scent markers flooded over her, WindClan and RiverClan scents mixed together.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “We’re in RiverClan territory now.”

“Keep going,” Sorreltail panted. “It’s only a narrow strip between here and ThunderClan territory.”

Leafpaw risked a glance to see if the WindClan patrol was still pursuing them. They were—they must be so furious that they hadn’t noticed the border, or did not care.

“They’re gaining on us!” she gasped. “We’ll have to fight. We can’t lead them on to our territory.”

She and Sorreltail whirled to face their attackers. Leafpaw braced herself, wishing desperately that she had never thought of entering WindClan territory, and especially that she had not brought Sorreltail into danger with her.

As Mudclaw leaped at her, Leafpaw saw a streak of golden fur shoot out from a nearby bush. It was Mothwing, the medicine cat apprentice from RiverClan. Then Mudclaw’s body crashed against her and she was rolling on the ground, squirming to escape the flurry of raking claws. She tried to twist round and sink her teeth into his neck, but there was a wiry strength in the deputy’s lean body that trapped her helplessly like a piece of prey. Leafpaw felt his claws rake across her side and bury themselves in her shoulder. With a massive effort she shook him off, trying to bring her hind paws up to attack his belly.

Suddenly the weight lifted and Mudclaw was scrabbling for a foothold beside her. Leafpaw staggered to her paws to see Mothwing cuffing him hard over both ears. “Get off our territory!” she spat. “And take your mangy friends with you.”

Mudclaw aimed a final blow at her, but he was already backing away. Sorreltail sprang up from where she had Tornear pinned down and bit hard on his tail before releasing him. He fled, yowling after the Clan deputy; the other tabby warrior had already vanished.