Battles Of The Clans

A Long Tradition

The elders are talkative tonight! Oh, sorry, Graystripe, I didn’t see you there. Greetings, kittypets.

Welcome to the island. My name is Mistystar, the leader of RiverClan. Onestar told me that you’ve come to hear about our long tradition of battles. Well, you’re in the right place for the best stories.

But I hope you’ve seen that there’s more to the Clans than fighting. Warriors train for a long time before they are allowed to risk spilling their own blood for their Clanmates.

Being in the thick of a battle can be a whirl of excitement and triumph. Still, there’s always a dazzling fear, and the screeching and thud of bodies around you stay in your mind for moons. There are moments of ice-cold clarity, too, such as the sight of a fleeing enemy, the satisfaction of a well-aimed blow, the sting of an injury when you don’t dodge fast enough, or the heart-dropping cry of “Retreat!”

Every apprentice longs to fight, and every warrior remembers his first battle. For the ones who have trained hard enough and keep their heads in the maelstrom, it won’t be their last.

Every warrior has a story to tell about memorable clashes. Just don’t let them whet your appetite too much. Whitewing will share her first battle with you—the white she-cat over there with the ThunderClan warriors, see her? And Mousefur can tell you about a warrior named Lionheart who walks with StarClan now, but who would not mind you hearing about the time he lacked courage—and learned from it. Then, if there is time before dawn, you should listen to Cedarheart of ShadowClan. He has the longest memory of all the warriors, and he’ll tell you about a ThunderClan leader who lived many, many moons ago, and his struggle for peace.

Whitewing Speaks: My First Battle

The first time I fought wasn’t in a skirmish over some cats stepping over the ThunderClan border, or a piece of stolen prey. The enemies in the battle weren’t even cats: They were badgers. Huge, fierce creatures with shadows streaking their fur and burning eyes; the snap of thorn-sharp teeth still echoes in my dreams, with the shrieks of my Clanmates as they are battered by a foe with no code of honor, no respect for our courage or skills. They came seeking vengeance because we had driven out a female and her cubs when we arrived at the lake. But they didn’t want territory or fresh-kill. They wanted our blood.

I saw them first. I was returning to the hollow with my mentor, Brackenfur, after a training session. I was bouncing on air, proud that I’d finally mastered the leap-and-hold. Brackenfur must have been aching from the number of times he’d let me scramble onto his back and attempt to hold him down. Tufts of his fur clogged my claws; I was looking forward to cleaning them while I told my mother, Brightheart, about my new battle skill. The sun was sinking into the lake behind us as we approached the camp. Brackenfur’s pelt glowed pink and gold in the slanting rays. My belly growled, and I thought hungrily of fresh-kill.

There was a crackle in the bracken at the end of the abandoned Thunderpath, and I looked over, expecting to see one of my Clanmates emerging. Beside me, Brackenfur stopped.

“Whitepaw, go inside the camp,” he ordered.

I put my head to one side and looked up at him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just go!” he snapped. His fur was standing on end and his nostrils flared. Had he scented something?

I opened my mouth and took a deep breath. A sour smell hit the back of my throat. Yuck! I started to ask Brackenfur what it was when the bracken rustled and a long, thin snout poked out. It was black with a broad white stripe, and a bead of moisture hung at the end, as if whatever it belonged to was slavering with anticipation.

There was a rumble of thunder from the trees—no, not thunder— roaring, a low, angry bellow that got steadily louder. The muzzle in the bracken opened and a snarl came out.

“Get inside now!” Brackenfur spat, and I ran. I burst through the thorns with my ears flat back, trying to block out the noise that filled the forest, bounced around the walls of the hollow, swept over me like a wave coming nearer and nearer…

Brackenfur pounded beside me, panting with fear. We stumbled into the center of the camp and Squirrelflight was leaping to her paws, her eyes growing wide in horror as the barrier crashed down behind us.

“Badger!” she yowled.

The clearing exploded with cats. I spotted my mother, Brightheart, pelting across the clearing to me, her good eye stretched so wide that it seemed almost white.

She shook her head. “Come with me. I’ve got to get Daisy and her kits out of the camp. You can hide with them at the top of the cliff.”

I planted my paws more firmly on the grass. “No! I want to stay and fight!”

“Don’t be a mouse-brain,” snapped Brightheart. “This is no place for an apprentice. I want you where I know you’ll be safe.”

I looked up to the top of the hollow, which was circled with dense bushes. “There might be badgers up there, too,” I pointed out.

“You’ll be in the thickest patch of thorns I can find!” my mother hissed. “Stop arguing and follow me!”

“I want to fight!” I wailed.

There was a flash of white and Cloudtail appeared beside me. “What’s going on?”

“Whitepaw needs to leave the camp with Daisy and her kits,” Brightheart told him.

“But I want to stay!” I scowled.

“There isn’t time for this!” Brightheart spat. “Have you seen what’s happening?” She flicked her tail around the clearing, and I looked past her at a whirling storm of fur and teeth and claws.

Spiderleg and Sootfur were attacking a female badger from both sides, springing forward to land a claws-out blow on her ears before leaping out of the way as she swung her massive head toward them.

I turned back to my mother. “Let me fight,” I begged. “My Clanmates need me.”

“She’s right,” Cloudtail put in unexpectedly. “This is what she has trained for. We need all the warriors we can get right now.”

“She’s not a warrior!” Brightheart hissed, and in her eyes I saw her fear that I was too young, too small, too inexperienced.

“If I survive this, I will be,” I meowed softly.

My mother looked at me, then nodded. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Cloudtail,” she ordered without taking her gaze from me. Then she spun around and raced for the nursery, where Squirrelflight was standing guard.

Cloudtail opened his mouth to speak, but a huge shadow fell across him and he looked up, shutting his jaws with a snap. A badger loomed over us, fury gleaming in its tiny black eyes. With a roar, it struck out with one front paw and sent Cloudtail spinning across the clearing. I backed away, desperately trying to think of the battle moves I’d just learned. But I was aware only of the ground under my paws and the tip of my tail brushing against brambles. I thought how pale I must look against the dark green thorns, my white pelt shining like the full moon. I’m over here! Come and eat me!

The badger opened its jaws, revealing pointed yellow teeth and a lolling red tongue. I wondered if it would hurt much when the badger sank its teeth into me. Everything seemed to have gone quiet; had the rest of the fighting stopped?

“Leave her alone!” There was a screech somewhere behind the badger, and a heavy white shape launched itself onto the creature’s shoulders. Cloudtail! The badger reared backward and snaked its neck around, trying to bite him.

The noise of the battle crashed into my ears, and the ground beneath me trembled as bodies thudded around the hollow. I unsheathed my claws and sprang up, reaching for the badger’s tiny curled ears. The pelt was thinnest there, just like on a cat, so I stood the best chance of reaching skin.

I thumped against the side of the badger’s head and tried to catch hold, but my paws slipped off the stinking black fur. Looking down, I realized in horror that my claws were so filled with hair from Brackenfur’s pelt after our training session that I couldn’t sink them into the badger’s flesh.

I fell back to the ground with a thud and frantically yanked the fur out with my teeth. I rolled sideways, between the badger’s front and hind legs. Then sensing a pointed muzzle swooping down toward me, I leaped for its ear again, and this time my claws ripped into soft skin. I clung on, scrabbling with my hind legs against the badger’s shoulder.

Cloudtail was on the other side of the creature, staring up at me in amazement.

“Go help Brightheart!” I screeched. “You have to get Daisy’s kits out!”

To my relief, he whipped around and vanished into the throng of cats. Badgers reared among them like black-and-white islands looming over a swirling brown-and-tabby lake. Beneath me, my badger bucked and plunged downward, trying to flip me off. I wrenched my claws free from its ear, wincing as an arc of blood spattered across my eyes, and sprang away just as the badger crashed onto the ground.

I had never felt more alive. On the far side of the hollow, Squirrelflight led Daisy up the tiny path to the top of the cliff. Brightheart, Cloudtail, and Brambleclaw followed, each carrying one of Daisy’s kits. StarClan, please let them be safe, I prayed.

“Whitepaw!” There was a wail from the bottom of the cliff, and I saw my denmate Birchpaw crouching with his back to the stone as a male badger padded toward him. The badger moved slowly, knowing his prey was trapped.

“Climb, Birchpaw!” I yowled. His eyes met mine, huge and dark with terror, and for a moment I thought he had frozen to the spot, but then he turned and began scrabbling at the rock with his front paws.

“Reach higher!” I called, spotting a paw hold a mouse-length above his head. Birchpaw pushed with his hind feet and sank his claws into the dirt lodged in a crevice in the cliff. He hauled himself up, his haunches dangling behind him, and hung from one paw.

“Come on! Climb higher!” I hissed through my teeth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear me now.

Miraculously, Birchpaw found a place to grip with his hind paws and started to heave himself farther up the wall. But then his front leg twisted and his claws slid out of the crevice, and I watched in horror as my denmate slithered down, down, down, to where the badger waited for him with one paw raised for a killing blow.

“Birchpaw!” I screamed, and shut my eyes, waiting for the final strike.

There was a roar from the badger—not of triumph but of rage. I opened my eyes and saw the creature hunched over a crack at the foot of the cliff. There was a flash of light brown fur against the stone, and I realized that Birchpaw had somehow squeezed himself out of reach. Until the badger’s fury tore apart the stone and it launched itself on Birchpaw…

In three bounds, I reached the badger and crouched down by its haunches. Leap-and-hold. That was the only way I could inflict any real damage. Jump now, while it’s distracted.

“Help!” Birchpaw yowled from his tiny hiding place.

I pressed down with my hind paws and sprang onto the badger, landing with my paws on either side of its spine. I thrust my claws through the dense, bristly fur and kept my weight low as the creature reared up, twisting as it tried to bite me. I wasn’t here just to hang on; I needed to injure it enough to get it away from Birchpaw. Sinking in deeper with my hind claws, I released one front paw and slashed at the badger’s face as it turned toward me. My foot shot through the air and I nearly lost my balance. Clinging on, I tried again, and this time felt a satisfying wrench in my front leg as I made contact with the badger’s cheek and ripped a long wound from the corner of its eye to its jaw.

The creature bellowed in pain and hauled itself away from the foot of the cliff. I saw Birchpaw scramble out. He left a thick trail of blood and his face was swollen, but he was alive. His mother, Ferncloud, raced over to him and sheltered him with her body as they fled around the edge of the hollow.

I clung on to the badger as it plunged and snapped. You tried to kill my friend! I had saved Birchpaw’s life, but there was no time to savor the victory. I sliced again and again with my claws, scoring deep wounds through the badger’s pelt until my paws were tufted with black-and-white fur.

The creature started to sink to its knees and I braced myself, ready to jump free when it tried to roll over and crush me. The badger’s muzzle thudded onto the ground and it let out a long groan as it slumped onto its belly. I stayed crouched on its back, wondering if this was a new trick.

“Whitepaw, get off!” It was Dustpelt, yowling to me from halfway up a hawthorn bush. “You’ve won!”

Dazed, I sprang down to the ground and stared at my enemy. Its eyes were half-closed, and its breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Had I really killed a badger?

Teeth sank into the scruff of my neck and I let out a yelp of fear.

“Get away from it! It’s not dead!” Dustpelt hissed in my ear as he dragged me away. “But you did well to stun it. Come on, stay close.”

He led me to the hawthorn tree and shoved me into the branches. I clung to a swaying twig, catching my breath and gazing out at the hollow. The stone walls were streaked with blood, and the grass was hidden beneath writhing bodies—and ominous furry lumps where cats had fallen and not gotten up again. My legs ached from the effort of holding on to the badger, and my eyes stung from the rancid blood, but I couldn’t stay here. My Clanmates needed me.

I scrambled down the tree and ran out into the clearing. A badger with one ear almost completely torn off lunged toward me; wondering briefly whether that was the badger that had attacked Cloudtail and me at the start, I swerved away and fled toward the barrier—or what remained of the barrier, after the badgers had trampled it down. A shadow fell across me, and I looked up at a narrow black-and-white face. I tried to dodge away, but one of my paws was trapped under a bramble. I flattened myself to the ground and let out a wail.

“StarClan, help me!”

Paws thudded toward me, and Squirrelflight sprang to my side, front paws raised. I waited for her to strike, but there was a pause. Peering up, I saw the she-cat staring in astonishment at the badger that was about to eat me. In a strange, high-pitched voice, she meowed, “It’s okay, Whitepaw. This is Midnight.”

The badger that had told the Clans where to find their new home when they were driven out of the old forest had come to help us—bringing warriors from WindClan, fresh and hungry for victory.

They fought alongside my Clanmates and drove out the badgers, giving them scars to remember us by.

We had won the battle—but at a terrible cost. Rainwhisker, Sootfur, and Cinderpelt all died in the attack.

Every ThunderClan cat was a hero that day. Sometimes I think my pelt still smells of blood, and when I’m hunting alone in the woods, every rustle reminds me of badgers marching against my home. We were saved by our battle skills, and we will use them again if we must.

Mousefur Speaks: The Deserter

This story takes place in the old forest, on the border beside the Thunderpath. Our territory ended here, and ShadowClan’s began on the other side. Lionpaw was on a border patrol with his mentor, Swiftbreeze, his denmate Bluepaw, and her mentor, Sunfall, the ThunderClan deputy. The scent of ShadowClan was too strong to be drifting across the Thunderpath on the wind—there was barely a breeze on this cold, gray day in early newleaf. Sunfall had led his patrol close to the edge of the Thunderpath, carefully sniffing each bush for signs of trespassers.

“Well, look what we have here!” came a snarl from the foot of a beech tree. “A patrol of ThunderClan warriors! Ooh, I’m scared now!”

A bright ginger tom stepped forward, still curling his lip, and blocked their way.

Sunfall halted and allowed the fur to rise on his neck. “You’re trespassing, Foxheart,” he growled. “What are you doing on this side of the Thunderpath?”

Foxheart looked back at his Clanmates. “Great StarClan, these warriors ask difficult questions!

What are we doing here, Crowtail?”

A skinny black she-cat put her head to one side, pretending to think. Then she straightened up. “I remember! We’re hunting prey.”

Lionpaw gulped. There was something in the way the she-cat had looked straight at him that made him feel as if her prey were ThunderClan apprentices. He glanced at Swiftbreeze, but she was glaring at the intruders, her tail kinked stiffly over her back.

A small white tom, his face still fringed with fluffy kit fur, padded forward to stand beside

Crowtail. “We’re chasing a rabbit,” he announced. “It came from our territory, which means it’s still ours.”

“That’s enough, Cloudpaw.” A flash of anger swept across Foxheart’s expression, and Lionpaw wondered whether the apprentice would get in trouble later on for speaking up. “We don’t have to explain ourselves.”

Another cat emerged, his dark gray pelt well hidden among the shadows beneath the tree.

“That’s right. ThunderClan patrols don’t scare us.”

“Well, they should!” Bluepaw hissed, unsheathing her claws. “We’re not afraid of you!”

Lionpaw looked sideways at his denmate. Really? You’re not scared? He looked back at the ShadowClan cats, all of them so much bigger than he was, with long, curved claws and powerful shoulders. And a hunger in their eyes that yearned for more than fresh-kill.

Sunfall lifted his head. “Leave now, and this matter will be forgotten.”

“Or what?” Foxheart asked with a hint of a growl.

“Or we’ll make you leave,” snarled Swiftbreeze, taking one step forward.

Foxheart let out a hiss. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” he murmured. His gaze fell on Lionpaw.

“I’ll start with that trembling lump of fur over there. I’ll slice his ears so he can’t hear his own screams of pain, then shred his muzzle until he begs to be put out of his agony.”

Sunfall let out a yowl and sprang toward the ShadowClan cat. Swiftbreeze leaped forward beside him, and Bluepaw crouched down with her claws out. Lionpaw’s vision blurred and the blood roared in his ears. He couldn’t fight these cats! StarClan, save me!

He spun around on numb, shaking paws and scrabbled across the damp forest floor. All he could think of was getting far, far away from those terrible cats.

Suddenly a log reared up in front of him and he crashed into the furrowed gray bark. Reeling back, he sat down hard, dazed and bruised. Where did he think he was running to? He couldn’t leave the territory: Where would he go? How would he survive? But he couldn’t go back to the camp. His Clanmates would know he had been too scared to fight ShadowClan warriors. He might not even be allowed to go back. Pinestar might send him away! Warriors were supposed to have courage in the face of the fiercest enemies, but Lionpaw had none. Icy drops of rain started to fall, bouncing on his fur and making him shiver. Looking around, he realized that he had run all the way to Snakerocks, the pile of rugged gray stones in the middle of the forest where adders lived. Only in hot weather, though—in leaf-bare, the snakes hid themselves away, leaving the rocks safe for hunting. And shelter.

Lionpaw spotted a shadowed entrance at the foot of the stones and trotted over to it. The cave stretched farther back than he could see, and smelled of fox, but the scent was old and stale, and Lionpaw couldn’t hear anything moving about inside. He could stay here for a while, maybe catch something to eat, and figure out what he was going to do next. He squeezed through the gap and lay down on the bare earth, pressing his back against the rock. It was cold and uncomfortable compared with his mossy nest in the apprentices’ den, but he didn’t let himself think about that. He’d have to get used to finding other places to shelter, now that he couldn’t be a Clan cat.

He didn’t mean to sleep, but when he looked out of the entrance again the forest was hidden in shadow, and a few stars twinkled in the branches. Lionpaw looked at his paws, feeling his fur burn with shame. Were his warrior ancestors gazing down at him with anger that he had run away from the battle? Or shame that he had failed his Clanmates and broken the warrior code? Or pity that he was such a pathetic, useless apprentice that he couldn’t stand his ground against a few trespassers?

There was a rustle on the far side of the clearing. Lionpaw stiffened, bristling. Had the ShadowClan cats tracked him down to make good on their threats? Or was a hungry fox looking for a meal? Lionpaw started to back into the cave, one paw at a time.

“Lionpaw, are you there?”

“I definitely caught his scent back there, but it’s harder out in the open,” complained another voice.

“Keep trying. Please, StarClan, don’t let him have left the territory.”

Lionpaw blinked. Swiftbreeze and Bluepaw were looking for him! He shrank farther back beneath the rock. Were they going to punish him for running away? Then his lip curled in disgust.

What are you doing, cowering from your own Clanmates? You may have been too much of a coward to face ShadowClan, but you can stand up and take your punishment!

Trying not to whimper with shame, he crept out of the cave. Two shapes were just visible in the darkness.

“Swiftbreeze! I’ve picked up his trail!” Bluepaw mewed excitedly.

“I’m here,” Lionpaw croaked.

There was the sound of paw steps; then Swiftbreeze and Bluepaw were curling around him, pressing their warm pelts against his flanks and purring louder than a horde of bees.

“Oh, thank StarClan we found you!” Swiftbreeze murmured. “You silly mouse-brain, we’ve been worried!”

“You missed a good old skirmish, too!” Bluepaw chirped. “Adderfang and Thistlepaw showed up just in time to give those ShadowClan warriors a bashing they won’t forget! I can’t believe they thought we’d let them hunt on our territory!”

Lionpaw pulled himself away and hung his head. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he blurted out. “Have you come to punish me?”

Swiftbreeze paused, and he could tell she was looking at him through the half-light. “Punish you?”

“Yes, for being scared!”

There was a rustle of movement, and Lionpaw felt his mentor lick his ear. “Oh, Lionpaw, every cat gets scared sometimes. Even the strongest warriors.”

“Yeah, even I got a bit scared today!” Bluepaw added.

Swiftbreeze’s breath was warm on Lionpaw’s ear. “You shouldn’t have run away. You should have trusted your Clanmates to protect you—do you really think I’d let any cat hurt you? I’d be a pretty useless mentor if I sent my apprentice into battle before I’d taught him how to take care of himself!”

“But what if I’m always too scared to fight?” Lionpaw asked in a small voice. “I can’t be a warrior like that.”

Swiftbreeze purred. “If you don’t feel any fear, you will never be able to feel brave. Courage is nothing without the knowledge of what you face. Give me time to teach you how to fight and defend yourself, and use the size and weight of your enemy against him. Then you’ll find courage deep inside.”

She moved away, and Lionpaw felt the air chill against his flank. “Now, come back to the camp,” she meowed more briskly. “I bet you haven’t had anything to eat all day. Pinestar wants to speak with you”—Lionpaw swallowed hard—“but he won’t punish you. You’ll be a great warrior one day, I promise.”

She started to walk back across the clearing, and Lionpaw ran to catch up. His heart swelled with relief and love for his Clanmates. Maybe Swiftbreeze was right: Because he had known what it was like to be really, really scared, he would understand more about courage. And when he had an apprentice, he would teach them that it was okay to be frightened sometimes. In fact, it was a sign of the best warriors!

Cedarheart Speaks: The Leader Who Sought Peace

It began at a Gathering, not here on the island but in the hollow with the four Great Oak trees, back in the forest. The ThunderClan leader, Morningstar, stood on the Great Rock beneath the shadows of the oak trees and let his voice cut through the icy air. “If all five Clans are here, let the Gathering begin!”

There were murmurs and shuffles from below as the cats found places to sit among their Clanmates, and scowled at other Clans who dared to push too close. Morningstar waited impatiently, feeling his paws freeze to the stone. Behind him, the other leaders shifted their haunches; the rock was painfully cold to sit on, but only one leader at a time stood to address the Clans.

“Cats of all Clans, WindClan is stealing our prey!” Morningstar announced.

“What? How dare you accuse us?” snarled a cat below him; the WindClan leader, Rabbitstar, let out a hiss from the back of the rock.

Morningstar let his gaze fall across all the Clans. “I don’t want WindClan to try to deny it,” he went on. “They know it’s true; we’ve seen their warriors too many times inside our borders, chasing voles and mice instead of rabbits. I’m not challenging them to a battle, either.”

A ripple of surprise rose from the WindClan cats.

“I’m not scared of fighting them!” yowled a ThunderClan warrior.

Morningstar sighed. “I know you’re not, Beechfur. But we are in no position to challenge them.

Our Clan is weaker than we have ever been, weaker than we should be even in the middle of leaf-bare.”

Wails of protest came from his Clan. “No, Morningstar! You can’t say that!”

“Do you want every Clan in the forest to help themselves?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Morningstar pushed on. “We’ve had too many kits born recently, and our elders have started to refuse food for the sake of the queens. We’re surviving on crow-food found by the side of the Thunderpath because we’re too weak to hunt fresh-kill.”

“Morningstar, stop! You’re destroying us!” snarled his deputy, Leafstorm, who was at the foot of the rock. From the shadow cast by moonlight, he could tell she was standing up on her hind legs, craning to see him on top.

“I don’t want my Clan to fight,” Morningstar meowed. “Instead, we should share what prey there is among all the Clans, and help one another through leaf-bare until our hunting grounds are full again.

If we join together as one, we will all survive.”

Willowstar, the RiverClan leader, sprang to her paws. “Why should I care if ThunderClan is starving? My loyalty is to my own cats! You are a fool if you thought we’d agree to this, Morningstar.

RiverClan keeps its own prey!”

Rabbitstar jumped up. “My cats wouldn’t eat your slimy fish anyway! We’d rather go hungry!”

Sedgestar of ShadowClan joined in more calmly. “My Clan is bigger than any of yours, so we can’t spare any fresh-kill. We have enough to feed ourselves, and I won’t let any of my cats go hungry for the sake of our rivals.”

SkyClan’s leader, Fennelstar, nodded. “Our warrior ancestors have given us territories according to our skills. It’s up to us to survive on that legacy. Morningstar, you shame your ancestors if you cannot feed your Clan within your boundaries.”

“Perhaps this is a test from StarClan?” Rabbitstar suggested. “There is too much weakness in the forest, and only the strongest Clans deserve to survive.” He flashed a glance at Morningstar. “I’d say that my Clan was doing pretty well right now.”

Morningstar shook his head. “I cannot believe that our ancestors would willingly let us starve to prove a point.”

“You’re letting yourselves starve if you can’t protect your borders,” Willowstar commented, with a hint of smugness.

Morningstar faced Rabbitstar again. “If you choose to keep stealing prey from my territory, you will be breaking the warrior code. My Clan is too weak to fight you. I’m asking for mercy until our prey starts running again.”

“You’re the weak one, old cat,” sneered Rabbitstar. “Better start sniffing out that crow-food, because you won’t be having any fresh-kill for a while.”

Morningstar began to pick his way down the Great Rock. Normally he would jump down, but his legs were trembling with hunger. He couldn’t remember the last meal he’d eaten. The elders weren’t the only ThunderClan cats giving up their food for the nursing queens. “I have nothing more to say,” he meowed over his shoulder. “Our fate is in your paws.”

He wound through the cats, who parted like rippling grass to let him pass. His Clanmates waited for him at the foot of the slope, their eyes flashing with anger and their pelts bristling. Morningstar pushed past them and led them out of the hollow without giving them a chance to speak. Leafstorm caught up to him, panting.

“Are you out of your mind? You’ve just invited every other Clan to help themselves to our territory and our prey!” She was furious, and for a moment Morningstar saw her unsheathed claws gleam in the moonlight.

“We will not fight WindClan over this,” he repeated. “Tomorrow I want you to take a patrol of warriors to Rabbitstar and speak to him again. We are too quick to use violence to solve everything.

If we fight now, we’ll lose half our Clan with the first strike. Can’t you see I’m trying to protect us?”

Leafstorm glared at him, her green eyes hot. “All I see is a leader who’s too scared to go into battle!”

Morningstar started to protest, but the ginger she-cat leaped ahead of him into the trees. Several warriors followed her, leaving Morningstar padding alone through the frost-dappled forest. A puffing sound behind him made him look back; Mothwhisker, an elder, was hobbling to catch up. Morningstar stopped to wait.

“Thanks,” wheezed Mothwhisker. The two cats walked on slowly, their breath clouding around them. “You meant what you said back there, didn’t you?” Mothwhisker rasped.

“Yes,” Morningstar replied. “The Clan is too weak to fight right now.”

He expected Mothwhisker to agree with him; elders knew better than most cats how fragile a hold warriors had on life, and how dangerous a battle would be on hollow bellies. But Mothwhisker was shaking his head.

“You’re wrong, Morningstar,” he muttered. “Oh, we may be weak, but you should never have let

WindClan know. They must be hungry, too, or they wouldn’t be stealing our prey. We should strike them by surprise, take the battle right to their camp, and show them that ThunderClan borders are as strong as they ever were.”

Morningstar stopped and rounded on the elderly tom. “I will not lead my Clan into a needless battle!” he spat. Memories filled his mind of a light brown tabby with amber eyes and white front paws, as if she had stepped up to her knees in snow. The last time he had seen her, she had been so drenched in her own blood that he couldn’t see a fleck of white fur underneath. She had died curled protectively around her belly, which was just beginning to swell with her kits—his kits, too.

Morningstar had never known which ShadowClan warrior struck the killing blow. Anyway, what good would vengeance do? It wouldn’t bring her back.

“We lost Songbird in a battle that should never have been fought,” he hissed. “We had no proof that ShadowClan chased that fox into our territory. Getting rid of it used up too much of our strength; I was stupid to let my pride send a patrol after ShadowClan as well.”

“Leaders have to be proud of their Clans,” Mothwhisker murmured. “Would you rather be ashamed of us? Tell every Clan that we’re too feeble to defend our borders anymore?”

Morningstar started walking again. “I’m not ashamed of any cat,” he growled. “You don’t understand. I’ve made my decision, and that’s the end of it.”

Leafstorm returned the next day with a slash along her flank that the medicine cat, Pearnose, struggled to close. The warriors who had gone with her to WindClan bore their own wounds. The patrol had barely crossed the border when WindClan cats attacked them; Leafstorm suspected they’d been lying in wait.

“Of course, we couldn’t fight them off,” she spat, clenching her teeth as Pearnose pressed another pawful of cobweb against her injury. “They outnumbered us and were fat from feasting on our prey!”

“We didn’t smell them before they attacked because they were covered in our own scent,” added Pineclaw. One of his ears had been ripped right to the tip, and scarlet blood streaked his dark brown fur.

“We may as well let them live here and make their hunting easier,” growled Featherwing. The pale gray she-cat had one eye swollen shut and claw marks sliced across her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Morningstar meowed. “Clearly WindClan is without honor.” He turned to walk away down the tunnel of ferns that led to the clearing.

“They have no honor because they are thieves!” Leafstorm yowled after him. She broke into a coughing fit, gasping for breath.

Morningstar winced. Leafstorm had been coughing for days. He’d suggested she stay back from the Gathering, but she’d insisted on coming. He’d thought that meant she was feeling better. As he reached the clearing, Pearnose scampered along the tunnel and joined him. The brown tabby’s eyes were serious.

“Morningstar, can we talk? In private, I mean.”

“Sure.” He led her to his den beneath Highrock. They pushed through the screen of lichen that hung across the entrance, and the medicine cat settled herself neatly on the sandy floor opposite Morningstar’s nest.

“I think Leafstorm has greencough,” she announced.

Morningstar stared at her in dismay. “But…but she went all the way to WindClan today! And fought!”

Pearnose narrowed her eyes. “She shouldn’t have done either of those things; nor should she have gone to the Gathering last night. She’s been sick for more than a moon, and I warned her it would get worse if she didn’t rest. But she’s been hunting every day, you know, often two or three times. And I haven’t seen her take anything for herself since Mossheart’s kits were born.”

Morningstar let his shoulders slump. His Clan was dying around him, and he could do nothing to protect it.

Beechfur poked his head through the lichen. “Sorry to disturb you, Morningstar, but I wondered if you wanted me to lead a border patrol? Mossheart said Leafstorm was sick.”

Morningstar lifted his head. “There will be no more border patrols,” he ordered. “I want every warrior, every apprentice, to look for food. We’ll all get sick if we don’t have something to eat.”

Beechfur’s eyes were very round. “Wha…what? No border patrols at all? But…WindClan and SkyClan will take everything!”

“Not if we catch it first. You’re wasting time! Go!” Morningstar dismissed the warrior with a flick of his tail. As the lichen quivered behind him, Morningstar turned back to Pearnose. He sighed.

“Are you going to tell me that I’m doing the wrong thing as well?”

The medicine cat shook her head. “You know me better than that, Morningstar. I would not walk in your paws for all the mice in the forest. Your path is lonelier than I could bear. Now, I must go and send Fallowpaw to look for catmint at the edge of Twolegplace. If we’re lucky, some will have survived the frost.”

She slipped out of the den. Beyond the clearing, Leafstorm’s coughs split the air. Morningstar heaved himself to his paws. He could hunt as well as any of his warriors. He’d find something for Leafstorm to eat, to get her strength back. He should have seen how thin she had become long before now. Battles or not, he needed his deputy beside him.

A quarter moon passed. It was getting hard to remember where the fresh-kill pile was supposed to be.

Any prey that was caught, any scraps of crow-food, were eaten at once. Queens first, then warriors, then apprentices. Morningstar took charge of feeding Leafstorm. She tried to refuse, but he threatened to lean on her wound if she didn’t eat. Now he stood staring at a lump of black feathers that might have been a bird once, but was so mangled and frozen that it could have been a piece of wood instead.

“Is this all you could find?” he demanded.

Pineclaw curled his lip. “No, actually. There are squirrels and mice all over the place out there, but I thought you’d prefer this.”

Morningstar winced. “It’s okay. I know you’re doing your best.”

“But WindClan is doing better!” Featherwing argued. “They don’t even try to hide from us now!

They just march in and stalk our prey as if we were nothing but unwelcome visitors.”

“I went along the border this morning, looking for yarrow, and I couldn’t even tell where our scent marks were supposed to be,” put in Pearnose’s apprentice, Fallowpaw.

“You gave WindClan a chance to have mercy,” Beechfur meowed more gently. “They have shown us none. We should stop having mercy on them.”

Morningstar gritted his teeth. StarClan, why are you destroying my Clan? I only want peace for them!

Suddenly, Pearnose burst into the clearing. “Leafstorm is dead!” she wailed.

Morningstar stared at her in disbelief. “No…” His brave, quarrelsome, sharp-minded deputy couldn’t be dead. Not from a cough.

“She was too thin to fight the infection,” Pearnose murmured, her breath warm on his ear.

“You mean I killed her,” Morningstar rasped.

Pearnose drew back in horror. “No! You tried to feed her, but she was too sick. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Leafstorm wanted to die in battle,” whispered another voice beside him.

Morningstar spun around, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the sweet, familiar scent.

Songbird?

“At least I had that chance,” the voice continued.

Morningstar narrowed his eyes and made out a faint outline of a brown tabby she-cat. He could see his warriors standing behind her; they were gazing at him with concern in their eyes, as if they didn’t know what he had just seen.

“Songbird,” he breathed.

“Let your warriors fight,” she told him. “Let them prove their courage and their loyalty to you by defending your borders. Peace is not the way of the Clans. We prove ourselves in battle.”

Her outline wavered like mist, and Morningstar bounded forward. “Songbird! Wait!”

He blinked, and the clearing was empty apart from his warriors and Pearnose, looking uncertainly at him. How could he have doubted their courage? Hunger wouldn’t weaken their desire to win; instead, it would sharpen their claws, lend power to each strike. Leafstorm was dead because he had not fought to keep ThunderClan’s prey safe from thieves. If any more cats were to die, it would be honorably, in battle, not starved like a helpless kit.

“Who will join me in battle against WindClan?” he roared.

There was a moment of shocked silence; then his warriors straightened up, lifting their heads and letting the fur bristle along their spines. “We will,” they yowled.

More cats emerged from the dens around them, their eyes brighter than Morningstar had seen in a long time. “We’re really going to fight?” one of them asked.

“We are,” vowed Morningstar. He turned to Pearnose. “Prepare your supplies. Fallowpaw will help you.” His gaze fell on a patchy gray-and-brown pelt among the throng of cats. “So will

Mothwhisker. I know he wants to serve his Clan once more.” His eyes met the elder’s, and they nodded to each other.

Then Morningstar lifted his tail and faced the gorse tunnel that led out of the camp.

“ThunderClan, attack!”