Legends Of The Clans

DEDICATION

Special thanks to Victoria Holmes

Allegiances

THUNDERCLAN LEADER SUNSTAR—bright ginger tom with yellow eyes DEPUTY TAWNYSPOTS—light gray tabby tom with amber eyes MEDICINE CATS GOOSEFEATHER—speckled gray tom with pale blue eyes FEATHERWHISKER—pale silvery tom with bright amber eyes WARRIORS (toms and she-cats without kits) STORMTAIL—blue-gray tom with blue eyes ADDERFANG—mottled brown tabby tom with yellow eyes HALFTAIL—big dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes and part of his tail missing SMALLEAR—gray tom with very small ears and amber eyes FUZZYPELT—black tom with yellow eyes WINDFLIGHT—gray tabby tom with pale green eyes WHITE-EYE—pale gray she-cat, blind in one eye POPPYDAWN—long-haired dark red she-cat with an extremely bushy tail and amber eyes SPECKLETAIL—pale tabby she-cat with amber eyes PATCHPELT—small black-and-white tom with amber eyes APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW THRUSHPELT—sandy-gray tom with white flash on his chest and bright green eyes DAPPLETAIL—tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat BLUEFUR—thick-furred blue-gray she-cat with blue eyes THISTLECLAW—gray-and-white tom with amber eyes APPRENTICE, TIGERPAW ROSETAIL—gray tabby she-cat with a bushy reddish tail LIONHEART—golden tabby tom, green eyes GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger tabby she-cat with amber eyes LEOPARDFOOT—black she-cat with green eyes QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits) ROBINWING—small brown she-cat with a ginger patch on her chest and amber eyes (mother to Brindlekit, a pale gray tabby she-kit, and Frostkit, a white she-kit with blue eyes) SWIFTBREEZE—tabby-and-white she-cat with yellow eyes (mother to Spottedkit, a dark tortoiseshell she-kit; Willowkit, a pale gray she-kit with blue eyes; and Redkit, a small tortoiseshell tom with a ginger tail) APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors) TIGERPAW—big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws WHITEPAW—pure white tom with yellow eyes ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired) WEEDWHISKER—pale orange tom with yellow eyes MUMBLEFOOT—brown tom with amber eyes LARKSONG—tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes

Maps

Chapter One

“At my signal, unleash the force of ThunderClan upon these rogues!” Spottedkit sank her claws into the tree stump and looked down at her loyal warriors. They stared up at her, huge-eyed, bristle-furred, ready to strike. Beyond them crouched the rogues, their tails flicking hungrily.

“ThunderClan forever!” Spottedkit yowled.

Below her, a dark tortoiseshell tom whirled around and sprang at the closest rogue.

“No, Redkit! That wasn’t my signal!” Spottedkit jumped down from the stump and marched over to her littermate, who was trying to sink his teeth into the scruff of a pale tabby she-kit. “Leave Brindlekit alone!”

The she-kit shrugged Redkit onto the ground. He landed with an “oof!”, then scrambled to his paws and glared at Spottedkit. “It sounded like a signal!”

“You didn’t tell us what the signal would be,” pointed out a white she-kit with eyes the color of the sky.

Spottedkit lashed her tail. “You’ve spoiled the game, Redkit! You can’t be my deputy anymore.”

“Can I be the deputy?” mewed a pale gray kit who had been sitting in the shade of the tree stump.

“No, Willowkit, you’re my medicine cat,” Spottedkit told her.

“But I want to fight in the battle!” Willowkit protested.

A thick-furred white tom stood up from where he had been sitting on the other side of Brindlekit. “I’ll be the medicine cat, if you like.”

“It’s not up to you, Whitepaw,” Spottedkit mewed. “I’m the leader, I decide who does what.”

Whitepaw scowled. “Well, I don’t want to be a rogue. I’m a ThunderClan cat! You’re so bossy, Spottedkit!” He padded over to Frostkit. “I’m going to be a warrior.”

“But now we only have one rogue!” Spottedkit wailed. “That’s not a proper battle!”

“I don’t want to be a rogue either,” mewed Brindlekit.

Redkit scored the dust with one tiny claw. “We don’t want to play with you, Spottedkit. You’re always telling us what to do!”

Spottedkit watched miserably as her denmates trotted across the clearing to a sun-warmed patch of sand, where they started batting around an old clump of moss.

“Is everything all right?”

Spottedkit turned to see her mother’s tabby-and-white face. “Redkit says I’m too bossy.”

Swiftbreeze bent her head and licked the fur on Spottedkit’s neck. Spottedkit snuggled a little closer, purring.

“Maybe you should let one of the others be in charge,” Swiftbreeze suggested.

“But they said I could be Clan leader!” Spottedkit mewed. “That means I have to look after every cat, doesn’t it?”

“Well, the medicine cat has some responsibility, too,” Swiftbreeze purred. “And no leader could do without their deputy. Think how Sunstar relies on Tawnyspots to organize the patrols.”

“When I’m the leader of ThunderClan, I’ll be in charge of all the patrols,” Spottedkit announced. She curled up against her mother’s belly and rested her chin on Swiftbreeze’s hind paw. “I’m going to make Whitepaw my deputy. He’s kind and smart, and he tells Tigerpaw to stop showing off whenever Thistleclaw teaches him a new way to fight.”

Spottedkit felt her mother tense. “Thistleclaw shouldn’t be teaching Tigerpaw so many battle moves, not when he’s only been an apprentice for two moons. I’ll ask Leopardfoot to have a word with him. She’s Tigerpaw’s mother; she won’t want him getting hurt before he has a chance to do his final assessment.”

“Leopardfoot doesn’t mind, she said so. She says that Tigerpaw is Pinestar’s son, so he has to be the best warrior in all the Clan.” Spottedkit sometimes wondered how Tigerpaw felt, knowing that his father had left ThunderClan to become a kittypet. Sunstar was leader now, and he never let any cat tease Tigerpaw about his father. But cats still talked when Sunstar was out of earshot, and Spottedkit saw the dark brown tabby apprentice glaring at his Clanmates sometimes as if he blamed them for Pinestar abandoning him.

Spottedkit started following the scent of milk through her mother’s belly fur. “Tigerpaw had better watch out. I’m going to be the best warrior ever, so there!”

Swiftbreeze shifted position so that she was lying more comfortably on the earth. “I don’t doubt that for a moment, little one,” she purred. “But before that happens, you must learn to play nicely with your denmates!”

There was a rustle of branches as cats pushed through the gorse tunnel. Spottedkit looked up over her mother’s back, a droplet of milk clinging to her whiskers. “The hunting patrol is back!”

She scrambled to her paws and ran over to the fresh-kill pile where the warriors had lined up to deposit their kill. Tawnyspots was at the front, shoulders tensed under the weight of a full-grown squirrel. The deputy looked thin and his flanks heaved, as if he had run twice as far as the other warriors.

“Good catch!” Spottedkit mewed. The warrior nodded at her as he stepped back to let Tigerpaw’s mentor, Thistleclaw, deposit his piece of prey. It was a thrush, its soft tawny feathers fluttering in the breeze. Thistleclaw noticed Spottedkit staring at the feathers. He pulled out a few with his front paw and offered them to her.

“Would you like these for your nest?” he meowed.

Spottedkit felt her pelt tingle. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have first pick of feathers from the fresh-kill pile. Thistleclaw blinked encouragingly. “Go on, there’s plenty for the elders.”

Spottedkit stretched up and took the feathers in her mouth. They tickled her nose and she screwed up her eyes in an effort not to sneeze.

“Can I have some feathers, too?” Whitepaw ran over. “Patchpelt is out on border patrol, and I’ve finished collecting moss for Sunstar’s nest.” He looked up at his father with his head tilted to one side.

Whitepaw’s mother, Snowfur, had died when he was still in the nursery. Spottedkit thought Thistleclaw seemed too young to have a son who was already an apprentice, but he spent time with Whitepaw every day, teaching him extra battle moves and telling him about the patrols. Spottedkit’s father, Adderfang, said she was too small to learn anything yet, which wasn’t fair at all. She was getting bigger all the time!

“Of course you can have some,” purred Thistleclaw, scraping off another pawful from the breast of the thrush. He pushed them toward Whitepaw, who buried his muzzle in them. When he lifted his head, tiny feathers clung to his nose.

“Your warrior name should be Wingnose!” Spottedkit mewed. She dabbed some feathers onto Whitepaw’s ears. “How many do you think you need before you can fly?”

Whitepaw reared up on his haunches and waved his front paws in the air. “More than that!” he declared.

Thistleclaw held out another clump of feathers. Spottedkit stuck them to Whitepaw’s cheeks. “Try now!” she demanded.

A shadow loomed over her. “What’s going on?”

Spottedkit spun around guiltily. Bluefur was glaring down at her, blue eyes blazing. “Why are you messing with those feathers?” she growled.

“We were only playing,” Spottedkit explained. “We wanted to see if Whitepaw could fly!”

Bluefur looked at Whitepaw, who was trying to blow the last tiny feathers off his muzzle. “You’re old enough to know better,” she scolded. “Those feathers should be used for the elders’ nests, not wasted in a silly game.”

Whitepaw hung his head. “Sorry, Bluefur.”

Spottedkit felt a stab of indignation. Just because Bluefur was Snowfur’s sister didn’t mean she could boss Whitepaw around. She started scraping the scattered feathers into a pile. “They can still be used for nests,” she pointed out. “Should we take them over to the elders’ den?”

“No, Spottedkit, that’s an apprentice duty,” Bluefur meowed.

“She was only trying to help,” Thistleclaw put in. “And it was my fault they were playing with the feathers.”

“You should know better, too,” Bluefur muttered. She brushed past Thistleclaw and put the thrush back on the fresh-kill pile.

Thistleclaw caught Spottedkit’s eye. “Oops,” he whispered. Spottedkit tried to muffle her purr of amusement.

“Hey, Thistleclaw! I’ve been practicing that backward strike you showed me!” Tigerpaw came bounding across the clearing, his paws thudding on the earth. He launched himself into the air, landed on his forepaws, and flicked his hind legs out behind him. “Take that, ShadowClan mouse dung!” he hissed triumphantly.

“Why does Tigerpaw have to show off all the time?” Spottedkit muttered to Whitepaw, who shrugged.

Bluefur looked shocked. “That’s a very advanced move! You shouldn’t be teaching him things like that, Thistleclaw.”

Tigerpaw bounced on his toes. “Why not?” he argued. “Thistleclaw said I’m as strong as a warrior!”

The gray-and-white tom cuffed Tigerpaw lightly over his ear. “But you still have lots to learn! Did you finish checking the elders for ticks?”

Tigerpaw curled his lip. “That’s the worst job in the world! It’s not fair. Whitepaw got to go into the forest to fetch moss for Sunstar!”

Thistleclaw narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean you haven’t done it? Go now, and then I’ll take you out for some more training.”

Tigerpaw scowled, but turned and stomped away toward the elders’ den with his tail trailing on the ground.

Bluefur snorted. “You’re too soft on him, Thistleclaw. He’s lazy when it comes to doing anything that isn’t learning to fight.”

The gray-and-white tom met her gaze. “Are you trying to tell me how to train my apprentice, Bluefur?” There was a hint of warning in his voice.

Bluefur twitched her ears. “Just telling you what I’ve noticed,” she meowed. She kinked her tail high over her back. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to fight, but Tigerpaw needs to learn that there’s more to being a good warrior than defeating our enemies.”

“I’m making sure he knows everything he needs to,” Thistleclaw murmured. Spottedkit felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the warrior slide out his front claws until they pricked the earth. If Bluefur didn’t watch out, she’d be fighting her own Clanmate!

The blue-gray she-cat held Thistleclaw’s stare for a heartbeat longer, then turned and padded away. Spottedkit realized she had been holding her breath and let it out with a sigh.

“Thistleclaw’s back!” There was a thrum of small paws as the other kits charged over to the fresh-kill pile. Brindlekit and Redkit hurled themselves onto Thistleclaw’s shoulders, knocking him sideways. Willowkit and Frostkit pounced on his flank to pin him down. The gray-and-white warrior landed with a thud, sending a puff of dust into the air.

Thistleclaw’s dark amber eyes were wide and startled, and his nostrils flared as if he was trying to draw breath. “Get off him!” Spottedkit ordered her denmates. “You’ve winded him!” The same thing had happened to her when she fell off the tree stump, and she knew it was a horrible feeling, waiting for the air to come back.

The kits scrambled off Thistleclaw, looking anxious. Spottedkit crouched beside the warrior’s head and placed one paw gently on his shoulder. “Lie still,” she mewed. “Try to take little breaths.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Whitepaw, fetch Featherwhisker!”

The apprentice raced away to the ferns that hid the medicine cat’s den. Thistleclaw blinked and took a rasping breath. “I’m okay,” he croaked. He sat up and rubbed his chest with one paw. “Good attack, kits!”

“We’re really sorry,” Willowkit mewed, huge-eyed. “We didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“No harm done,” Thistleclaw replied, still sounding as if he had swallowed thorns. He looked down at Spottedkit. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’d have recovered without you!”

Spottedkit glowed from her nose to the tip of her tail. “Anytime!” she mewed.

Whitepaw returned with Featherwhisker. The medicine cat’s thick silver fur trailed a scent cloud of herbs. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“We hurt Thistleclaw really badly!” Redkit announced.

“I thought he was dead!” squeaked Brindlekit.

“I’m fine,” Thistleclaw purred. “Just a little rough play, that’s all.”

Featherwhisker mewed in amusement. “What kind of warrior gets knocked down by kits?” he teased before he trotted back to his den.

“One who teaches us the best battle moves!” Spottedkit mewed, and felt a burst of warmth as Thistleclaw blinked at her.

“You’ll make a good little medicine cat one day!” he mewed.

“No way,” Spottedkit told him. “I want to be a warrior like you!”

Thistleclaw bowed his head. “In that case, it will be an honor to fight alongside you, Spottedkit.”

“I can’t wait!” Spottedkit whispered.

Chapter Two

“Spottedkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed.” Spottedkit was trembling so much, she could hardly lift her head to look up at Sunstar. The leader’s yellow eyes were warm as he gazed at her. “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Spottedpaw. Your mentor will be Thrushpelt.”

The rest of Sunstar’s words were lost in a blur as Spottedpaw stared at the sandy gray tom who stepped up beside her. Thrushpelt bent his head to brush his muzzle against Spottedpaw’s. He smelled of leaves and prey and the wild forest.

“Can we go outside the camp now?” Spottedpaw whispered.

Thrushpelt purred. “In a moment, little one.”

Around them, their Clanmates’ voices echoed through the ravine. “Redpaw! Willowpaw! Spottedpaw!”

Spottedpaw’s littermates stood proudly beside her, their fur gleaming. Redpaw had been given grumpy Halftail as his mentor, and Willowpaw was paired with Poppydawn, who was a bit old but a brilliant hunter. Beyond them, Spottedpaw glimpsed the other apprentices: Frostpaw, Brindlepaw, and Whitepaw, who were shouting the new names the loudest, and Tigerpaw, who was standing a little way off and not shouting anything. Instead he was glaring at the new apprentices as if they’d put brambles in his nest.

“Ignore him,” Redpaw whispered in Spottedpaw’s ear. “He’s afraid we’ll make him look bad when we learn everything faster than him!”

“Tigerpaw should be happy to have more apprentices,” Willowpaw pointed out. “He and Whitepaw won’t have to do all the duties now.”

Halftail padded up to them. “Enough chatter,” he ordered. “Are you ready to see our territory, Redpaw?”

“Absolutely!” squeaked Redpaw, bouncing on his toes. Then he looked embarrassed and mewed, “Of course, Halftail. Lead the way!”

The dark brown tom looked quizzically at him. “Well, I wasn’t going to ask you to lead.”

“We’ll join you,” said Thistleclaw, his tail twitching with amusement at the excited looks on the three new apprentices’ faces. Tigerpaw glowered, but said nothing. Willowpaw widened her eyes at Spottedpaw and Spottedpaw purred back. She didn’t care who came, she just wanted to see outside the ravine!

Green. So much green. Leaves, branches, trunks, ferns, grass… And so many scents! Thrushpelt tried to point out the differences between squirrel, mouse, blackbird, and pigeon, but even though Spottedpaw had encountered all of these on the fresh-kill pile, they smelled new and strange against the background of trees and undergrowth.

Tigerpaw bounded ahead, giving a running commentary: “This is treecutplace. Twolegs cut down the trees here. I don’t know why.”

Spottedpaw sniffed the pine-tinged air. The ground was soft and prickly with needles, and there was hardly any trace of prey. Her legs were aching and her paws stung. She hadn’t realized the territory was so huge. How did the border patrols manage to get around so fast?

Thrushpelt stopped to renew a scent marker, and Thistleclaw slowed until he was walking alongside Spottedpaw. “How are you doing?” he meowed.

“Okay!” Spottedpaw puffed. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

Thistleclaw purred. “It won’t seem so far once you’ve been on a few patrols. Can you see that fence over there?”

Spottedpaw peered between the trunks. The trees stopped beside a line of dark green grass, edged with a long stretch of pale wood. “Did ThunderClan make that?”

“No, Twolegs did. They live behind that fence in Twolegplace. Watch out for kittypets crossing the border. They’re too fat and useless to steal any prey, but they like to cause trouble.”

Spottedpaw let her hackles rise and sank her claws into the pine needles. “I’ll chase them out!” she growled. “Sneaky trespassers! They need to learn that this is ThunderClan’s territory, not theirs!”

Thistleclaw cuffed her gently over the ear. “You’ll make an excellent warrior with that attitude.”

“Not without learning how to hunt and defend herself,” Thrushpelt put in, joining them at a trot. “You’re looking tired, Spottedpaw. Do you want to go back?”

Spottedpaw lifted her head. “No way! Can I see the Thunderpath now?”

She noticed Thistleclaw exchange a glance with Thrushpelt over her head. “You’ll have your paws full with this one,” Thistleclaw commented.

Thrushpelt flicked the tip of his tail. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he meowed. “We’ll finish patrolling the territory on our own, thanks. I don’t want to keep Tigerpaw from his training.”

Thistleclaw dipped his head. “No chance of that. Tigerpaw’s the keenest apprentice I’ve ever seen!”

Wait until you see how keen I can be! Spottedpaw thought as she watched the two cats head back to the camp. I’m going to work harder than any cat to become a warrior!

“Thrushpelt, you and Spottedpaw can join Adderfang’s hunting patrol with Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw.” Tawnyspots nodded to the cats gathered in front of him. “I expect a full fresh-kill pile by sunhigh!”

Spottedpaw bounced on her toes. Yes! Now she could show Thistleclaw her hunter’s crouch! She pressed her front paws into the ground and stretched out her back until her tail curled. Thrushpelt had made her practice her crouch over and over again for the last half-moon, and she was confident she could catch anything—even a badger—by now.

She followed her mentor through the gorse tunnel, screwing up her eyes as a thorn sprang back at her. Thistleclaw was just behind her.

“I haven’t seen you on a hunting patrol for a while,” he commented as they scrambled up the ravine side by side.

“Thrushpelt wanted me to get my technique right first,” Spottedpaw explained, puffing slightly.

“Your hunting skills looked good enough to me before your apprentice ceremony!” Thistleclaw meowed.

Spottedpaw felt warm under her fur. Before she could reply, Thrushpelt called to her. “Stick close to me, please. I’ll tell you which scents are worth following.”

Spottedpaw glanced at Thistleclaw and saw him roll his eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your nose, either,” the gray-and-white warrior whispered.

Swallowing a purr of laughter, Spottedpaw joined her mentor as he fell in behind Adderfang. She could hear Tigerpaw’s heavy footsteps alongside Thistleclaw. If he kept stomping like that, all the prey would be in WindClan before they had a chance to get close!

They headed for the river through sun-warmed ferns that tickled Spottedpaw’s back. Adderfang picked up the first scent, a powerful waft of river vole, which sent him bounding toward the gray bulk of Sunningrocks. Thrushpelt paused to sniff the air. “Pigeon over there,” he hissed, nodding at a thicket bent double under the weight of starry white elderflowers.

Spottedpaw started to move forward but Thrushpelt stopped her with his tail on her shoulder. “I’ll take it,” he told her, and stalked away, nose close to the ground.

Thistleclaw padded up to Spottedpaw. “I just saw a squirrel go up that trunk,” he mewed, gesturing with his muzzle toward a pine tree. “Do you want to follow it?”

Spottedpaw blinked. “I… I haven’t really practiced climbing trees yet. Only once, and Thrushpelt said I wasn’t very good.”

The gray-and-white warrior twitched one ear. “You’ll be fine! Take it steady, make sure your claws have a good hold on the bark, and don’t look down. Go on, I’ll be here watching you.”

Spottedpaw glanced around. Thrushpelt had vanished beneath the elderflower bush, and Tigerpaw was pushing his way into a clump of ferns. Thistleclaw gave her a gentle nudge. “You’re not scared, are you?” he teased.

“Of course not!” Spottedpaw crouched down and sprang onto the lowest branch. It swayed under her weight and she scrambled up to the next one before she could change her mind. Something gray and fluffy whisked around the trunk above her, and she caught the faint scent of squirrel.

“That’s it! You’re nearly there!” Thistleclaw called from below. Spottedpaw risked a glance down, then wished she hadn’t. The warrior looked tiny from up here, and the forest swam dizzyingly around her. She sank her hind claws more deeply into the branch and stretched up for the next one. It was out of reach by half a fox-length, so she would have to haul herself up the bare trunk.

Spottedpaw took a deep breath and wriggled her front paws until her claws snagged into the bark. She pushed upward with her haunches and felt her hind paws scrabble in thin air. Before she could plant them on the trunk, a voice came from underneath the tree.

“What in the name of StarClan are you doing up there? Come back at once!”

Spottedpaw twisted her head to look down, which loosened her grip on the bark. There was a sharp tearing sensation in her front paws and suddenly she was bouncing down the tree, banging her shoulder against the lower branches. The grass zoomed up to meet her in a green blur. Then everything went black.

She opened her eyes to see Thrushpelt peering down at her. “Spottedpaw, are you all right?”

She tried to nod, but a searing pain in her shoulder made her gasp out loud.

“Where does it hurt?” demanded Adderfang, appearing beside Thrushpelt. Spottedpaw’s father looked horrified.

Thistleclaw’s face joined them. “That was quite a tumble!” he meowed.

Spottedpaw struggled to sit up and get some air into her chest. The forest whirled around her so she leaned back against the tree to wait for the dizziness to pass.

“Tigerpaw has gone to fetch Featherwhisker,” Thrushpelt told her. “Keep still.” He pushed a ball of moss soaked with water toward her. “Thistleclaw brought this from the river.”

Spottedpaw bent down and sucked at the moss. The pain in her shoulder was like a bolt of lightning every time she moved. There was a strange roaring sound in her ears, and she felt sick. “Am I going to be okay?” she whimpered.

“You’ll be fine,” meowed a brisk voice. Featherwhisker’s soft gray head pushed between the warriors, and he studied her with concern in his eyes. “How far did you fall?”

“She was trying to reach the third branch,” mewed Thrushpelt. He glared at Thistleclaw. “She should never have been up a tree in the first place. She’s barely learned the hunting crouch!”

“Then you are training her too slowly,” Thistleclaw retorted. “Tigerpaw was climbing trees after a quarter moon.”

“This isn’t the time for comparing training methods,” Featherwhisker meowed as he gently pressed his paw along Spottedpaw’s flank. “Come on, let’s get this apprentice back to the camp.”

With Adderfang taking almost all of her weight on her uninjured side, Spottedpaw hobbled along the path, trying not to whimper out loud. Swiftbreeze bounded over as Spottedpaw scrabbled through the gorse tunnel on her belly. “Great StarClan, what happened? Spottedpaw, are you all right?”

“Thistleclaw sent her up a tree after a squirrel,” Adderfang meowed.

“It wasn’t Thistleclaw’s fault!” Spottedpaw protested.

“It was an accident,” Featherwhisker mewed. “Let’s get you into my den so we can find something to help with the pain.”

Swiftbreeze took Adderfang’s place and Spottedpaw breathed in her mother’s scent. Every part of her body was aching, even her ears and her teeth. She staggered through the ferns and flopped onto the soft grass beside Featherwhisker’s rock-cleft den. Goosefeather, the medicine cat who had trained Featherwhisker, was dozing in his nest. He briefly looked up at the new arrivals, then lay down again with a grunt.

Thrushpelt poked his face through the bracken. “I’ll come and see how you are later, Spottedpaw. Don’t worry about your duties; the other apprentices can take care of them. Just focus on getting better.”

Spottedpaw blinked. “Thanks, Thrushpelt.” She pressed her cheek into the grass and closed her eyes. She felt Swiftbreeze fussing around her, puffs of warm air coming from her muzzle as she sniffed along Spottedpaw’s body. Featherwhisker emerged from his den trailing herby scents.

“Eat this,” he urged, pressing something slimy and strong-smelling against Spottedpaw’s mouth. Without opening her eyes, she swallowed it down. It tasted bitter but not unpleasant. “That’s comfrey, to help with the swelling, and half a poppy seed to make you sleep.” Featherwhisker ran his paw over Spottedpaw’s head. “Lie still. You’ve taken a nasty knock today, but you’ll feel better soon.”

“Will she still be able to train?” Swiftbreeze asked.

Spottedpaw opened her eyes with a jolt. I can’t let an injury stop me from training!

Featherwhisker rearranged Spottedpaw’s wounded leg so that it was tucked under her more comfortably. “We need to give her a chance to recover first. I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken, but let’s wait and see how she gets on.”

Spottedpaw fought against the waves of blackness that swelled behind her eyes, dragging her to sleep. Oh StarClan, please let me get better! I promise I won’t do anything stupid again.

Chapter Three

Spottedpaw raced through the trees, flinching as brambles whipped her muzzle. Her foreleg felt as if it were on fire but she knew she couldn’t slow her pace or something terrible would happen. As she skidded past Snakerocks, she glanced down to see if the fox was still there. Yes, the creature was still clinging on, its jaws locked around her leg, the wound sending flames of agony shooting up to her shoulder. Spottedpaw wasn’t quite sure how she was able to go so fast and drag the fox along with her, but the weight of the creature didn’t seem to slow her down. However quickly she ran, she couldn’t dislodge the thorn-sharp teeth that sank deep into her flesh…

“Spottedpaw? Spottedpaw, wake up! You’re having a bad dream!”

Spottedpaw blinked open her eyes to see Featherwhisker bending over her, his pale face creased with concern. “If you don’t stop thrashing about, you won’t have a nest left!” he mewed, straightening the shredded moss.

Spottedpaw tried to sit up and let out a yelp as her shoulder burned with pain. “Ow!” She flopped back and licked her stinging fur. She noticed that Goosefeather’s nest was empty, and she felt a twinge of guilt. Had she driven him away with her troubled dreams?

Featherwhisker traced her leg with one paw. “I’m not surprised it’s sore. You gave it a nasty wrench. Leave the trees to squirrels from now on!”

“But I have to get back to my training!” Spottedpaw wailed. “What if Thrushpelt gets another apprentice?”

The medicine cat rested his tail on her flank. “Stop panicking. Thrushpelt will wait for you to get better. You’ve only been here for three sunrises.”

“But that’s too long,” Spottedpaw fretted. “I’m not learning anything! Can’t I start walking today?”

“Not when you’re in this much pain,” Featherwhisker meowed. “But if you’re really bored, I can find something for you to do.”

“Like what?” Spottedpaw mewed suspiciously. “I’m not squeezing any dead mice to get out the bile!”

Featherwhisker purred with amusement. “Don’t worry. I save that particular task for naughty apprentices! You could sort these herbs for me, though. Rosetail gathered tansy and marigold for me yesterday, but she let the leaves get muddled up, and I need to store them separately.” He nudged a heap of strong-smelling greenery toward Spottedpaw. Her nose twitched and she leaned over the edge of her nest to study them more closely.

“Which one’s which?” she asked.

Featherwhisker tugged out two stalks with a flick of his paw. “Tansy is the one with the smaller, feathery, pale green leaves, see? Marigold leaves are a similar shape, but bigger and a darker shade of green.”

Spottedpaw nodded. She wriggled carefully onto her belly, leaving her injured foreleg cushioned on the moss.

“They smell totally different,” she commented. “That’s the easiest way to tell them apart.”

Featherwhisker nodded. “Exactly.” He was rolling dock leaves into tight wraps and stacking them neatly against one wall of his den. “Do you know what we use those herbs for?”

Spottedpaw paused to untangle some stalks that were knotted together. “You gave tansy to Whitepaw when he had a bellyache from eating too much mouse,” she recalled. “But I’ve never seen you use marigold.”

“Actually, you have,” Featherwhisker corrected her. “Do you remember when Frostpaw got scratched in her eye by that stick?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Spottedpaw burst out. “I was just trying to see if it was long enough to reach Weedwhisker. Frostpaw ran into it without looking!”

Featherwhisker snorted. “I’m not sure poking Weedwhisker while he was trying to sleep was the best idea in the first place, Spottedpaw. Anyway, I used a poultice of marigold to clean Frostpaw’s eye and keep away any infection.”

“Infection is when a wound smells bad and doesn’t heal, isn’t it?” Spottedpaw checked.

“That’s right. I go through a lot of marigold at this time of year, when leaves hide the brambles and warriors are more likely to get scratched. It’s best to use fresh leaves, but dried ones can make a good enough poultice if you add water.”

Spottedpaw puzzled over two very similar-looking stalks for a moment, then decided that one was a small piece of marigold and the other was definitely tansy. “It’s amazing to think that one little leaf can do so much,” she mewed. “I wonder how the first cats found out?”

“We have been blessed with some truly gifted medicine cats,” Featherwhisker replied. “StarClan guided their paws and helped them to a store of knowledge that is so vast, I feel as if I have only glimpsed one little corner of it.”

“But you know what all the herbs do, don’t you?”

“All of the herbs that are found in ThunderClan territory, yes. But there are plants in other territories that are unfamiliar to me, which is why the medicine cats meet at each half-moon, to share any new discoveries and see if we can help with illnesses and injuries in the other Clans.”

“Wow,” breathed Spottedpaw. “Do you feel like StarClan? I mean, you have power over life and death!”

Featherwhisker twitched his ears. “Not as much as I’d like to, little one. We all lose cats that we have tried our hardest to save.”

Spottedpaw flicked the last leaf onto the tansy pile and sat back in her nest. “Finished! Can I do something else now?”

The medicine cat looked around the narrow cave. “You could roll the rest of these dock leaves for me while I prepare a poultice for Mumblefoot’s tick bite.”

“Okay!” Spottedpaw leaned out of her nest and dragged the big shiny leaves toward her. It was a bit tricky to roll them up with one paw, but she figured out how to use her chin to keep the leaf tightly tucked in. On the other side of the den, Featherwhisker started chewing up some sharp-scented dark green leaves.

“Medicine cats have to heal any cat, don’t they?” Spottedpaw mewed, her voice muffled because she was holding a dock leaf under her chin.

Featherwhisker spat out a clump of soggy greenery. “Well, our code only says that we must help kits from any Clan, but I don’t know any medicine cat who would ignore a full-grown cat who was sick or injured.”

“What about other animals?” asked Spottedpaw as she reached for the next leaf. “Would you help a mouse, or a bird?”

The silver cat purred with amusement. “Do you think I should try to resuscitate the fresh-kill pile? Warriors are trained to kill cleanly so that our prey doesn’t suffer. We have to eat to survive; a medicine cat would not be helping his Clan if he tried to revive their fresh-kill.”

“What about a fox, then? Or a badger?”

“Animals that treat us as prey can take care of themselves,” Featherwhisker meowed firmly. “Have you finished rolling those leaves? You should have a rest.”

Spottedpaw snuggled back into her nest. It was lined with thrush feathers, which reminded her of how Thistleclaw had gotten into trouble for giving her and Whitepaw feathers to play with. She wondered if Thistleclaw was worried about her. She didn’t want him to blame himself because she fell out of that stupid tree.

“Hello? Are you receiving visitors?” A dark red face poked through the ferns.

Spottedpaw lifted her head. “Poppydawn! Of course, come in.”

Willowpaw bounced behind her mentor, hardly visible behind a large young thrush. She dropped it on the ground beside Spottedpaw’s nest. “I caught this for you!”

“Wow! Thanks, Willowpaw!” Spottedpaw leaned out to sniff the fresh-kill. Her shoulder brushed against the edge of the nest and she winced.

Willowpaw looked worried. “Does it still hurt?”

Spottedpaw nodded.

“When will you be able to start training again?” Willowpaw asked.

Featherwhisker padded over and rolled the thrush to the side of the den. “She needs a few more days off her paws.”

“She’s very young to suffer an injury like this,” meowed Poppydawn. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“Excuse me, I am right here!” Spottedpaw butted in. “I’m going to be fine, aren’t I, Featherwhisker?”

Featherwhisker was taking care to tuck the thrush out of the way. “We’ll see,” he mewed without looking up.

Spottedpaw felt a flare of terror in her belly. Would her stupid accident prevent her from becoming a warrior? I wish I’d never climbed that tree!

After two more days, Spottedpaw no longer dreamed that her leg was being eaten by a fox, or woke in pain if she rolled over in her nest. When Featherwhisker left to fetch more marigold for Mumblefoot’s tick bite, which was stubbornly refusing to heal, Spottedpaw decided to test how far she could walk. She’d been making her dirt in holes behind Featherwhisker’s den but she was determined to go all the way outside the camp this time. Goosefeather had gone out, muttering about finding peace and quiet with the elders, so the medicine den was empty.

Gritting her teeth, Spottedpaw limped through the ferns and hobbled across the clearing. At first her paw throbbed when it touched the ground, but after several steps the pain became easier to bear and she found a way of rolling along that was almost comfortable.

“Hey! You’re up!” Redpaw bounded over to her, his tail sticking straight up. He licked Spottedpaw’s cheek, which almost unbalanced her.

“Careful!” she warned.

Swiftbreeze jumped up from where she had been basking outside the warriors’ den. “Did Featherwhisker say you could leave your nest?” she fretted. “Where is he?” She looked around for the medicine cat.

“He’s gathering herbs,” Spottedpaw admitted. “But look! I’m fine!” She wobbled triumphantly in a small circle.

Sunstar entered the clearing at the head of a patrol. “Ah, good to see you back on your paws, Spottedpaw! We’ve missed you!”

Spottedpaw glowed with pleasure. Even the Clan leader wanted her to be training! “I’m feeling much better,” she mewed. “I’ll be able to go back to my duties tomorrow, I think.”

“Not so fast,” Sunstar purred. “Make sure you’re completely healed first.”

The rest of Sunstar’s patrol spilled through the gorse tunnel. Tigerpaw roared in at top speed, then skidded to a halt by the fresh-kill pile. “I’m starving!” he declared. “Chasing off those kittypets was hard work, I can tell you!”

“Really?” mewed Weedwhisker from his basking place outside the elders’ den. “A strong young apprentice like you, against some fat old kittypet?”

Tigerpaw puffed out his chest. “They were totally scared of me! You should have seen how fast they ran!”

A voice purred in Spottedpaw’s ear. “Tigerpaw didn’t look so brave when one of the kittypets stopped on top of the fence to hiss at him!”

Spottedpaw turned to see Thistleclaw standing beside her. His amber eyes were shining. “You must be feeling better,” he commented. “It’s great to see you again!”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Spottedpaw mewed, feeling hot to the tips of her ears. She wondered why Thistleclaw was looking at her so closely. Did she have moss on her muzzle?

“Can I eat now?” Tigerpaw demanded, bouncing on his toes beside the heap of prey. “Weedwhisker has already taken a shrew for himself and Mumblefoot, and Larksong doesn’t want anything. My belly is empty!”

Thistleclaw nodded. “Go on, then. Don’t fill yourself up too much, or you won’t be up to battle training after sunhigh.”

“I won’t,” Tigerpaw promised through a mouthful of squirrel.

Thistleclaw turned back to Spottedpaw. “What about you? Did you come out here to eat?”

Spottedpaw shook her head. “I wanted to test my leg. I think I’m ready to go back to training now.”

Thistleclaw’s eyes widened. “Wow, you really are determined, aren’t you?”

“Of course! I don’t want my littermates to be warriors before me!”

The gray-and-white warrior tilted his head on one side, studying her. “Would you like to go for a walk in the forest? If your leg feels okay, of course.”

“I’d love to,” Spottedpaw mewed. “But don’t you want to have something to eat first?”

Thistleclaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Come on, let’s go before Featherwhisker sends you back to your nest!”

With a mischievous purr, he led Spottedpaw through the gorse tunnel. He waited while she visited the dirtplace, then walked slowly beside her up the ravine, letting her rest on his shoulder for the steepest parts. His fur was warmed by the sun and his muscles felt strong and smooth beneath his skin. Spottedpaw could hardly breathe by the time they reached the top—and not just because she hadn’t been out of her nest for so long.

They stopped in the shade of some brambles so that Spottedpaw could catch her breath. Thistleclaw dipped his head toward her, concerned. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Featherwhisker will kill me if you come back in worse shape than before!”

Spottedpaw blinked. “I’m fine, honestly. It hardly hurts at all.” She gave her shoulder a fast lick to ease the tingling. “I don’t want to miss any more training,” she confessed. “I’m worried that Sunstar will give Thrushpelt another apprentice if I stay in the medicine den too long.”

“Sunstar wouldn’t do that,” Thistleclaw meowed. “Being a warrior is really important to you, isn’t it?”

Spottedpaw pushed past the brambles and started walking along the path that led to Snakerocks. She guessed that Featherwhisker would have gone the other way because marigold grew beside the river. She didn’t want the medicine cat to send her back to the camp.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she told Thistleclaw. “I want to be the best warrior ThunderClan has ever seen, then deputy and then Clan leader.”

Thistleclaw purred with amusement, and Spottedpaw winced. Did that make her sound like a silly kit with fluff in her ears?

“There’s nothing wrong with ambition,” Thistleclaw mewed. “We should all want to serve our Clan as best we can.”

They ducked under some bracken, and Spottedpaw noticed Thistleclaw flinch as the brittle fronds brushed his ear. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

Thistleclaw flicked the tip of his tail. “It’s nothing,” he mewed, but Spottedpaw reared up on her hind legs to take a closer look. She was suddenly aware of how close their muzzles were, and how their warm breath was mingling in the still, leaf-scented air. Thistleclaw’s ear had a long scratch running from base to tip, and his fur was sticky with dried blood.

“You’ve been clawed!” Spottedpaw gasped. “Was it one of the kittypets?”

“As if one of those mange-balls would get anywhere near me!” Thistleclaw scoffed. “I’m fine, forget about it.” He stepped away and Spottedpaw almost lost her balance.

“I could put some marigold on it, if you like,” she offered. “I’ve been helping Featherwhisker with his herbs, and I know how to use nearly all of them.”

She thought Thistleclaw would be impressed, but he curled his lip. “Only the weak get injured in battle,” he growled. “If you are strong enough and fast enough, the only blood shed will be the blood of your enemies!”

Spottedpaw blinked. “O-okay,” she stammered.

Thistleclaw turned and took a pace back to her. He rested his chin on top of her head and she heard him sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just thinking about a fight that I lost—the one that gave me this scratch, actually. I won’t be beaten next time, I promise!”

“I know you won’t,” Spottedpaw purred. She hardly dared to breathe because she didn’t want Thistleclaw to move. Standing here, in the glade beside Snakerocks, with the warrior’s scent wreathing around her and the pain in her shoulder little more than a dull ache, Spottedpaw thought she had never been happier. She could feel her heart pounding, and every blade of grass beneath her paws.

Nothing in the world will stop me from becoming a warrior alongside you, Thistleclaw, she thought.

Chapter Four

Spottedpaw wrapped the last shred of cobweb around the twig and stowed it neatly in the cleft in the rock beside the piles of herbs. “All done!” she declared. “Your store is much tidier now, Featherwhisker. Try not to mess it up again!”

The silver-gray tom flicked her playfully with his tail. “Perhaps you should stay here to keep me in order,” he suggested. “Goosefeather would be glad of the help!” He nodded to the elderly medicine cat, who was dozing in the sun.

Spottedpaw looked at Featherwhisker in alarm. “You don’t mean that, do you? You said my shoulder was healed enough to go back to training.”

Featherwhisker purred. “No, you’re fit to train. But I’ve enjoyed having you here, Spottedpaw. If you ever change your mind about becoming a warrior, I’d be honored to have you as my apprentice.”

“Never!” Spottedpaw meowed. The medicine cat blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But I’m going to be a warrior.”

Featherwhisker nodded. “Well, good luck, and if you see any catmint while you’re on patrol, don’t forget to pick some. Our stores are very low.”

“Will do!” Spottedpaw trotted through the ferns, careful not to disturb Goosefeather, and emerged in the sun-dappled clearing. Thrushpelt was outside the warriors’ den, his back arched in a stretch. Spottedpaw bounded over to him. “Featherwhisker said I can start training again!”

“That’s excellent news,” Thrushpelt meowed. “We’ll do some hunting practice today, nothing too strenuous. I don’t think you should go on patrol for a while.”

“I’m fine, honestly. My shoulder still aches a bit, but Featherwhisker is happy for me to do as much as I can.”

The sandy-gray warrior twitched his ears. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He headed toward the gorse tunnel. Willowpaw and Redpaw were bundling through, dragging a squirrel between them.

“Wow!” mewed Spottedpaw. “Did you catch that?”

“Yup!” Willowpaw announced. “And yesterday I nearly caught a pigeon!”

Redpaw flicked her with his tail. “More like it nearly flew off with you!”

Spottedpaw felt a stab of envy. Her injury had put her far behind her littermates. She would have to train twice as hard—if Thrushpelt allowed her.

Thrushpelt beckoned to Spottedpaw with his tail and she trotted after him through the tunnel and up the ravine, stepping carefully to avoid jolting her shoulder. They plunged into the ferns, which were cool and damp after a recent fall of rain. Spottedpaw breathed deeply, enjoying the freshness after the stuffy, still air inside Featherwhisker’s den.

Thrushpelt stopped in a clear space and sat down, curling his tail around his haunches. “Let’s start off with a hunting crouch, a sideways pounce, and some silent stalking.”

Spottedpaw tucked her hind legs under her and balanced her weight over them. Her shoulder protested when she let her body slide backward but she kept her front paws resting lightly on the ground. When she sprang forward, she was careful to put more weight on her uninjured leg. She saw Thrushpelt narrow his eyes, watching for unsteadiness, but she kept her balance by sinking her claws into the dusty soil. Her mentor nodded. Spottedpaw relaxed, then gathered herself for the sideways pounce. She deliberately went toward her strong side but she still jarred her shoulder and let out a whimper.

“Take it easy,” Thrushpelt murmured. “You’re doing well.”

Spottedpaw finished by stepping softly across the glade, lowering each paw onto the grass without making a sound. She had always enjoyed stalking. She might not be the fastest runner among the apprentices, or the strongest, but she could creep up on anything!

“Let’s go see if there is an easy catch or two waiting for us,” Thrushpelt meowed. “You obviously haven’t forgotten any of your hunting skills.” He stood up and let Spottedpaw take the lead. She headed toward treecutplace, knowing it would be easier to hunt without getting tangled up in undergrowth. She wasn’t going to chase any squirrels up trees, though!

The pine trees were still and quiet, strongly scented from the rain. Spottedpaw and Thrushpelt padded across the bed of needles until the red dens of Twolegplace were visible between the trunks. Spottedpaw picked up a hint of something warm and furry—a rabbit or perhaps a vole—and bent her nose to the ground, following the trail.

A line of glossy-leaved bushes grew at the edge of the trees. The scent trail vanished among the branches. Spottedpaw wriggled underneath and cast around, but there was no trace of it. Suddenly she heard voices and froze.

“What are you doing here? This is ThunderClan territory!” That was Thistleclaw, but who was he talking to? Spottedpaw peered through the branches but could only see the swath of bright green grass running beside the Twolegplace fence.

Then Bluefur spoke: “Thistleclaw, he’s only a kit. He’s no threat.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. Spottedpaw crawled toward the edge of the bush, dragging her belly silently through the dust and leaf scraps. A tiny black kit was standing muzzle-deep in the grass, facing Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw. Bluefur stood behind Thistleclaw, her fur fluffed up.

“An intruder is an intruder, Bluefur!” Thistleclaw growled. “You’ve always been too soft on them.” He looked at Tigerpaw, who was bouncing on his toes. “Here, let’s put it to my apprentice. What do you think, Tigerpaw? How should we handle this?”

Tigerpaw’s eyes gleamed. “I think the kittypet should be taught a lesson. One it’ll remember.”

Spottedpaw felt her belly flip over. This was not going to end well.

“Now, hold on, there’s no need for this…” Bluefur begged, lunging forward.

Thistleclaw spun to face her. “Shut up!”

At the same moment, Tigerpaw hurled himself at the kit. The tiny black cat flew across the ground and landed with a thud. Spottedpaw winced. Surely it would turn tail and flee now?

“Get up!” snarled Tigerpaw.

The kit scrabbled its paws in the dirt but before it could stand, Tigerpaw pounced on it and held it down. He raked its muzzle with bare claws, then slashed down its flank. Bright red lines of blood sprang onto the glossy black fur.

“Show it your teeth, Tigerpaw!” Thistleclaw urged.

The apprentice bit deep into the kit’s shoulder. The kit let out a terrible screech and tried desperately to get away. Spottedpaw gathered her haunches beneath her, ready to spring out and rescue the helpless little cat. No kittypet deserved to be treated like this!

Before she could move, a blue-gray blur shot across the grass and Bluefur blocked Tigerpaw’s path to the kit. “Stop, Tigerpaw!” she yowled. “That’s enough! Warriors don’t need to kill to win a battle, remember?”

Tigerpaw narrowed his eyes. The kit’s blood dripped from his teeth and pooled on the dusty ground. “I was just defending our territory.”

“And you’ve done that,” Bluefur meowed more quietly. “This kit has learned its lesson.”

Behind her, the kit stood up and stared in terror at Tigerpaw.

Tigerpaw glared back. “Yeah, you’ll never forget me!” He took one step forward and the kit fled with a whimper, limping into the grass and vanishing under the nearest fence.

Bluefur let the fur rise along her spine. “If I ever see you do something like that again, I’ll report you to Sunstar!”

Thistleclaw bared his teeth. “We were only defending ThunderClan from invaders.”

“That so-called invader was a kit!” Bluefur pointed out.

“That’s his problem,” Thistleclaw mewed. He beckoned to Tigerpaw with his tail and stalked into the pine trees. The dappled shadows swallowed them up, leaving Bluefur alone, her pelt ruffled with anger.

Spottedpaw took a deep breath and backed out of the bush. She was shaking with horror at Tigerpaw’s hostility toward the defenseless kit. If Bluefur hadn’t stopped him, would he have killed that tiny kittypet? Spottedpaw pictured the deep scratch on Thistleclaw’s ear, and wondered where it had come from. Had Tigerpaw caught him unawares during a mock battle? Was that why Thistleclaw had seemed so angry about his injury?

She padded through the slender pine trees, lost in whirling thoughts.

“Spottedpaw, is that you?” Thrushpelt stuck his head out from behind a tree. “Where did you go?”

“Oh, I… er… followed a scent trail back there.” Spottedpaw gestured vaguely with her tail. “It didn’t lead to any prey, though.”

Thrushpelt snorted. “Well, I don’t want to go back to the camp empty-pawed. Let’s try nearer to Snakerocks.”

He turned and trotted along a narrow path that led into the brambles. Spottedpaw followed more slowly, the screech of the terrified kittypet still echoing in her ears. She made an easy catch of an old, slow mouse, while Thrushpelt pounced on a blackbird that was wrestling a worm out of the ground. They carried their prey back to the camp, Spottedpaw trying hard not to limp under the weight of her fresh-kill. Her shoulder ached all the way from her toes to the tip of her ear.

Thrushpelt must have noticed, because he told her to take some prey for herself and find somewhere to rest. Spottedpaw dragged half a sparrow into the shade cast by the nursery bush. The brambles were a little overgrown and untidy because the nursery was currently empty; as soon as it was needed by an expecting queen, Fuzzypelt and Swiftbreeze would trim and weave the branches back into place, making a sheltered and watertight den.

“Mind if I join you?”

A shadow fell across Spottedpaw and she looked up to see Thistleclaw holding a baby vole in his mouth.

“Of course!” Spottedpaw shifted sideways to make room for him on the softest patch of grass.

They ate in silence for a while, Spottedpaw enjoying the feel of his warm flank against hers. But she couldn’t shake her memories of Tigerpaw attacking the little kittypet, and Thistleclaw’s encouragement.

“I… I saw what happened today,” she began. “With the kittypet, and Tigerpaw.”

Thistleclaw looked at her in surprise. “Really? I didn’t see you there.”

“I was stalking something.” Spottedpaw felt hot underneath her fur. “Tigerpaw was kind of brutal, wasn’t he? I mean, it was only a kit.”

Thistleclaw’s amber eyes narrowed. “Are we supposed to make allowances for different kinds of intruder? Should we welcome the kits, then change our minds when they are six moons old? Or twelve moons? Or elders?”

Spottedpaw twitched the tip of her tail. “I guess not. But Bluefur seemed pretty angry with how Tigerpaw reacted.” As soon as she spoke, she wished she could take the words back. Thistleclaw’s ears flattened and the fur on his neck spiked.

“Bluefur is not training my apprentice,” he growled.

“I just think Bluefur did the right thing, stopping Tigerpaw. He was going to hurt that kit really badly, even though it was trying to run away!” Spottedpaw tried to swallow the lump of sparrow that seemed to be stuck halfway down. “Tigerpaw is so angry all the time. I… I think he’s trying to prove to us that he’s nothing like his father, that he’d never leave ThunderClan to become a kittypet.”

Above her, Thistleclaw’s nostrils flared and his amber eyes blazed. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be the best, the strongest, the most fearless in your Clan? Do you think we should all be medicine cats, mincing around with herbs and feathers and avoiding so much as a nip from a mouse?”

“No, of course not. I…”

“Tigerpaw has more courage than any apprentice I’ve ever known! I’m disappointed in you, Spottedpaw. I thought you were ambitious, too. Is Thrushpelt training you to be an ‘okay’ warrior? Just good enough to catch mice and renew scent markers?” There was a challenge in his voice, and Spottedpaw jumped up.

“Don’t say that! Thrushpelt is a good mentor! I thought Tigerpaw crossed a line today, and I was glad when Bluefur stopped him. And I am ambitious! I just know there are worthier enemies than a helpless kit!”

Blazing with fury, Spottedpaw jumped up and raced across the clearing. She pushed through the gorse tunnel, not caring that thorns ripped at her fur. She charged up the ravine without knowing where she was going; she just wanted to be far away from Thistleclaw’s scorn and disappointment.

She thrust blindly through the cool green ferns, past a startled patrol, until she felt warmth on her muzzle and a gentle breeze against her ears. She looked around. She had run all the way to the edge of the forest, and Sunningrocks loomed over her, gray and solid and echoing with the sound of the river just beyond. Spottedpaw scrambled up to her favorite basking place, halfway to the top with a clear view upriver to WindClan on the moor. She sat down and tried to empty her mind.

“Okay, I’m a squirrel-brained fool who doesn’t deserve your company,” murmured a voice behind her. “But you left your sparrow, and I thought you might be hungry, so I’ll just put it here. Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Spottedpaw turned to see Thistleclaw crouched at the edge of the flat rock. Her half-eaten fresh-kill lay beside him, and his ears were comically flattened like a scolded kit’s. He looked up at her with huge eyes, then down again.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he mewed in a small voice. “You’re twice the cat Tigerpaw will ever be. I could never be disappointed in you.”

Spottedpaw purred. “I don’t hate you, Thistleclaw. Come over here, you look as if you’re about to fall off.” She beckoned him with her tail, and he crawled toward her, his belly fur brushing the warm stone.

“I’m sorry,” he mewed. “I was really rude to you. It won’t happen again.”

Spottedpaw touched his shoulder with her front paw. “I’m sorry too. I should never have doubted you. I know you have trained Tigerpaw to be the bravest, most loyal warrior that ThunderClan could wish for. It wasn’t my place to judge him.”

The pale-furred warrior blinked at her, his expression earnest. “But it was, Spottedpaw! I value your opinion, don’t you know that? I want to know what you think about everything! Tigerpaw, Sunstar, Tawnyspots, StarClan, the fresh-kill pile, whether the elders should deal with their own ticks…”

He glanced sideways at her and Spottedpaw let out a purr of laughter. “Now you’re being silly! But… thank you. That means a lot, to know that you think so much of me.”

Thistleclaw leaned toward her until their cheeks brushed. “I think a very great deal of you, Spottedpaw. Wherever I am, in my nest, in the forest, patrolling the borders… you are always beside me.”

Spottedpaw couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought Thistleclaw must be able to hear it. This wasn’t like a warrior talking to an apprentice about her ambitions; this was completely different. Thistleclaw was talking to her as if she was his equal. And she felt different, too. Am I falling in love?

“What about you?” Thistleclaw prompted softly. “Do you think about me too?”

Spottedpaw nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “But you’re a warrior, and I’m only an apprentice…”

“You won’t be an apprentice forever! I’ve watched you train, and I know you’ll pass your assessment with no trouble at all.” Thistleclaw straightened up. “There is no harm in thinking about the future. Our future.”

“Really?” Spottedpaw felt her heart flip over. I must be dreaming!

“Of course.” Thistleclaw nodded solemnly. “Look around you. You believe in StarClan, don’t you? We are surrounded by omens that tell us we should be together.”

Spottedpaw stared at him. “Are… are you sure?”

Thistleclaw gestured with his tail. “Look at those two clouds, side by side. And those crows flying over the trees—how many of them are there? That’s right, two! Down there beside the river, do you see those two dark stones? We’re meant to be a pair, Spottedpaw. StarClan says so.” He glanced at her, and there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Spottedpaw cuffed him lightly with her paw. “Don’t tease! Omens are very serious. I don’t think Featherwhisker would see things the same way.”

“Ah, Featherwhisker! Our mighty medicine cat!” Thistleclaw’s voice took on a sharper tone. “We wouldn’t want to contradict him, would we?”

“What do you mean? I think Featherwhisker has done an incredible thing, giving up his life to serve our Clan. He knows so much, yet he never acts as if he is better than the rest of us. I can’t imagine a better medicine cat!”

Thistleclaw bristled. “You sound as if you like him more than me! If he’s so precious, why don’t you go hang out in the medicine den for a few more moons?”

“Don’t be such a mouse-brain!” Spottedpaw forced her fur to lie flat and rested her tail on Thistleclaw’s flank. “I want to be with you.”

Thistleclaw’s amber eyes burned into hers. “Prove it,” he whispered.

Spottedpaw blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Prove how much I mean to you. Come with me tonight.”

“Where? Are we going to cross the border?”

Thistleclaw twitched his tail. “You’ll see. Go to your nest as usual, and I will fetch you. Tell no other cat that you’ll be with me. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Spottedpaw mewed.

“Then you have nothing to fear.” The warrior sprang down from the rock and vanished into the ferns, leaving nothing but a few quivering fronds to show where he had been.

Spottedpaw sat back on her haunches. Where in the name of StarClan was Thistleclaw planning to take her?

Chapter Five

The sun had never set more slowly. Twitching with impatience, Spottedpaw watched the orange disc as it finally sank below the trees. Would it seem odd if she went to her nest now? The other apprentices were playing a complicated game of chase that seemed to involve circling the tree stump twice and jumping over one of the elders basking in the last dregs of warmth outside their den.

“Get off me, you ridiculous kit!” snapped Larksong, striking out with her foreleg as Willowpaw zoomed over her rump.

“Leave us alone,” growled Mumblefoot.

Willowpaw yowled in triumph as she skidded around the tree stump and leaped on top. “I win!”

Spottedpaw trotted over to the elders. She felt bad for them, having their peace disturbed by her crazy denmates. “Don’t worry, they’ll be going to their nests soon,” she mewed. She licked a patch of ruffled fur on Mumblefoot’s shoulder, trying not to wrinkle her nose at his musty smell.

She lifted her head to find Goosefeather staring at her with his rheumy blue eyes. “Come closer,” he rasped. Spottedpaw edged nearer as the old cat peered at her. “I know who you are,” he muttered. “You’re the one who loves foolishly.”

Spottedpaw blinked. “What do you mean?”

Goosefeather turned away from her, wriggling to find a more comfortable place on the hard earth. “Your heart is blind, Spottedpaw,” he murmured, so quietly she could hardly hear. “That’s a lesson you will never learn.”

“What are you talking about? What lesson?” Spottedpaw spoke sharply, feeling a jolt of panic rise inside her.

Goosefeather let out a faint snore and Spottedpaw resisted the urge to prod him awake.

“Ignore him, little one,” rasped Mumblefoot. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. Most of us stopped listening to him moons ago.”

Spottedpaw twitched her ears. Goosefeather was still a medicine cat. He knew things no ordinary cat could imagine. Had StarClan sent him a message about her?

She jumped as warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “You look sleepy,” murmured a familiar voice. “Don’t you think you should be heading to your nest?”

Spottedpaw looked up into Thistleclaw’s warm amber eyes. “I was just going,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered back.

Spottedpaw padded over to the apprentices’ den, waiting for some cat to ask why she was going to her nest so early. But no cat seemed to notice as she slipped through the branches into the shadowy, peaceful den. She curled into her nest and tucked her nose under her tail. Her heart was pounding and she didn’t feel the tiniest bit sleepy, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to take slow and steady breaths, emptying her mind and letting it fill with swaths of green and black and soft, pale gray…

There was a sharp crack, as if something had stepped on a twig. Spottedpaw looked around and felt a moment of terror as she realized she had no idea where she was. She was surrounded by huge tree trunks, the tops lost in drifting mist. It was night and the stars were hidden behind branches, yet there was a strange gray light that seemed to be coming from clumps of fungus that grew on the trees and beneath the limp, half-dead ferns. The air smelled of damp earth and rotten wood.

There was a rapid thud of paws and Thistleclaw bounded out of the undergrowth, his pelt slick from the mist. “You made it!”

Spottedpaw blinked in relief. She leaned close to inhale his scent, but somehow he didn’t smell of anything; the stench of earth and woodrot was too strong. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

“Oh no,” Thistleclaw meowed. His eyes were shining and his fur crackled with tension. “This is real. Follow me!”

He whirled around and bounded along a narrow path between the trees. Spottedpaw raced after him, trying not to slip on the cold, wet earth. Something slimy seeped between her pads and she wondered if she had time to stop and lick it off. But Thistleclaw kept running so she gathered her haunches under her and kept going. The trees loomed on either side, dark and somehow threatening, as if they were watching Spottedpaw with unseen eyes. Where was this place? It wasn’t anywhere in ThunderClan territory, she knew that. Had they crossed the border into ShadowClan?

A tree root caught Spottedpaw’s foot and she stumbled to her knees. “Help!” she gasped.

In a flash Thistleclaw was beside her, nosing her up to her paws.

“I’m scared,” Spottedpaw confessed. “It’s so dark and quiet here.”

“You’re safe with me, I promise,” Thistleclaw murmured. He rested his muzzle briefly on top of her head, then took off again. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Up ahead Spottedpaw saw the bracken quiver and a tortoiseshell-and-white cat stepped onto the path. Her thick fur was ragged as if she hadn’t groomed herself in moons, and scars crisscrossed her broad muzzle. She walked stiffly as if old wounds troubled her, but her amber eyes burned like fire.

“What is she doing here?” the cat snarled, glaring at Spottedpaw.

“This is Spottedpaw,” Thistleclaw mewed. “She’s with me. Spottedpaw, this is Mapleshade.”

Spottedpaw stared at the she-cat, unable to speak. Her whole body was trembling with fear, and her paws seemed frozen to the ground. It’s only a cat! she told herself.

“She doesn’t say much, does she?” growled the ragged cat. “Good.” She turned and stomped along the path. “Come on, you’re late.”

Thistleclaw trotted after her, his tail held high and his ears pricked. Spottedpaw finally unfroze her paws and stumbled after them. If this was ShadowClan, what were they doing here? Her belly flipped over. Was Thistleclaw a traitor?

The cats ahead of her stopped abruptly and Spottedpaw almost bumped into them. They had reached the edge of a clearing filled with scrubby grass and divided in half by a crumbling, half-rotten tree trunk. Mapleshade jumped on top of the trunk with more grace than Spottedpaw would have imagined.

“Who will fight first?” she yowled, her voice echoing around the trees. “Come on, you fox-hearted cowards!”

To Spottedpaw’s astonishment, cats started creeping out of the bracken. Five or six of them, all different colors and sizes. She sniffed the air, trying to identify them by scent, but all she could smell was decaying wood and sodden leaves.

Mapleshade jerked her tail toward Thistleclaw. “You go first,” she ordered. “Houndleap, you too.”

A scrawny black cat slunk into the center of the clearing. Spottedpaw could see his ribs, and her instinct was to run off and catch him something to eat. Yet she hadn’t smelled a single trace of prey.

Thistleclaw bounced forward to meet the black cat. “Any particular moves you’d like to see, Mapleshade?” he called.

The she-cat bared her teeth. “Ones that work,” she hissed. “Nothing else matters.”

Thistleclaw bowed his head. “Of course.”

Spottedpaw blinked in surprise. Thistleclaw was acting like a humble apprentice! What was this place? The more she saw, the less she thought they were in ShadowClan. Houndleap looked like a WindClan cat, for starters, with his thin frame and hungry expression. There was a light brown tabby sitting beside the tree trunk that must have been a RiverClan cat, judging by her glossy fur and rounded belly. These cats were warriors, for sure, but where would they meet together like this? This definitely wasn’t Fourtrees!

At a yowl from Mapleshade, Thistleclaw launched himself at the black cat. Houndleap thudded to the ground but wriggled free with a hiss and leaped onto Thistleclaw’s back. In horror, Spottedpaw saw that the black cat’s teeth were bared and his claws gleamed long and silver as he sank them into Thistleclaw’s pelt. “Watch out!” she cried. Surely this was just a mock battle? There had been nothing to suggest that these cats were enemies.

Thistleclaw didn’t seem to hear her. He flexed his broad shoulders and flicked Houndleap onto the grass. Spottedpaw winced as he curled his lip and bit down hard into the black cat’s neck. Houndleap batted at Thistleclaw’s belly with his hind paws, ripping the soft fur. Thistleclaw flinched and Houndleap reached up with his front paws, clawing at the ThunderClan warrior’s eyes. Thistleclaw shoved him away, sending his opponent rolling over and over until he slammed into the fallen tree.

“No, stop!” cried Spottedpaw, but on the tree trunk Mapleshade paced excitedly, her tail fluffed up.

“That’s it!” she screeched. “No mercy! I want this forest running with blood! It’s a shame you didn’t fight like this when you were in WindClan, Houndleap!”

Spottedpaw stared at the black cat who had staggered to his feet and was glaring at Thistleclaw, flanks heaving and stained with blood. If Houndleap used to be in WindClan, did that mean he was somewhere else now? Somewhere with RiverClan cats as well? Somewhere like…

“Am I in StarClan?” Spottedpaw gasped. “But… how did I get here? Am I dead?”

“Of course you’re not dead,” grunted a black-and-white tom beside her. He turned toward Spottedpaw and she jumped when she realized that one half of his face was dreadfully scarred, with nothing but raw red skin where his eye used to be.

“Then why am I here?” Spottedpaw breathed.

The black-and-white cat shrugged. “Mapleshade brings cats here to train sometimes. Looks like she made a mistake with you, though.” He let out a terrible rasping sound, and Spottedpaw realized he was shaking with laughter.

“I… I didn’t imagine StarClan would be like this,” Spottedpaw admitted. But the black-and-white cat was watching Thistleclaw and Houndleap grapple each other again, and didn’t seem to hear.

In the clearing, Thistleclaw had pinned Houndleap down and was pummeling him with his front paws. To Spottedpaw’s dismay, the black cat didn’t even try to fight back. He lay there limply with blood trickling from one side of his mouth.

“Enough!” Mapleshade ordered. “Thistleclaw, you can fight Rushtooth next.” The tabby RiverClan cat stood up and dipped his head. Houndleap dragged himself to the edge of the clearing, not far from Spottedpaw. He needs comfrey, marigold, and cobwebs, she decided. Without waiting to ask Thistleclaw if she could leave, she whipped around and plunged into the bracken, mouth open to detect the scent of herbs.

Nothing. Not even a dock leaf. Spottedpaw cast about, running in a broad circle through the trees, searching for any sign of a stream where water-loving plants might grow, or a sandy bank that might catch the sun. The forest was the same everywhere: wilting ferns, mulchy grass, and those eerie glowing fungi. Spottedpaw ran back to the clearing, hoping she could do something with bracken to stanch the flow of blood, at least.

Houndleap was propped on his shoulder, licking the claw marks across his flank. In the clearing, Thistleclaw was thrashing on the ground with Rushtooth, more evenly matched in size and weight this time. Spottedpaw cast an anxious glance toward her Clanmate, checking that he wasn’t scattering too much blood, then trotted over to the little black cat.

“I’m so sorry!” she burst out. “I’ve looked for herbs but I can’t find any. I thought StarClan would have every kind of plant!”

Houndleap looked at her oddly. “StarClan? This is the Place of No Stars.”

Spottedpaw sat down with a thud. “What? But… but… what is Thistleclaw doing here?”

“Becoming a better warrior,” purred Thistleclaw, joining her. Blood dripped from a scratch on his shoulder and one of his ears was torn at the tip, but his chest was puffed out and his eyes glowed with victory. Behind him, Rushtooth crouched below the tree trunk while Mapleshade told him what a sorry disgrace he was.

Spottedpaw stared at her Clanmate. “You have brought me to the Dark Forest,” she whispered. “Cats are sent to this place because they are too evil to belong in StarClan. Why would you want to train here?”

Thistleclaw flicked one of his ears and a drop of blood struck Spottedpaw’s muzzle. “Cats might think something is evil just because it follows different rules,” he meowed. “You didn’t see anything evil here tonight, did you? Just courage, skill, and strength—more than you’ll ever see in one of your training sessions with Thrushpelt.”

“No cat would fight like that unless they meant to kill,” Spottedpaw protested. She could feel panic rising inside her. “That’s against the warrior code. And to me, yes—that is evil.”

She spun around and raced along the path, tripping and sliding on the muddy roots. She didn’t know where she was going; she just knew she had to get away from that terrible clearing and those bloodstained cats. Faster and faster she ran, until the trees around her blurred and shadows rose up to drag her down into the dank, foul-smelling earth…

Chapter Six

“Phew! Spottedpaw stinks!”

“Spottedpaw, wake up!” A paw prodded her in her side. “Where have you been? You’re covered in mud and you smell like the bottom of a marsh!”

With a jump, Spottedpaw opened her eyes. The memory of fleeing through the Dark Forest filled her mind, and she was half-afraid that she was only dreaming that she was back in her nest, while still trapped in that awful place.

Then Redpaw’s face appeared above her and she relaxed. “Did you go out last night? You need to clean yourself up before Thrushpelt sees you!”

Spottedpaw sat up. The moss in her nest squelched, and her belly fur was matted and filthy.

Willowpaw wrinkled her nose. “Did you fall in some fox dung? Be careful licking yourself clean. You might make yourself sick!”

Spottedpaw stood up and stretched, feeling her muscles ache as if she hadn’t slept at all. Had she really been running through the Dark Forest all night? Was that where Thistleclaw had suffered his battle wounds? She pushed past her littermates, wanting to find somewhere quiet in the forest to wipe her fur and try to forget about what she had seen.

“There you are!” Thrushpelt called as Spottedpaw pushed her way into the clearing. “Come on, Sunstar wants us to check the border by Fourtrees. The dawn patrol picked up some unfamiliar scent there, so we need to make sure we don’t have any unwanted visitors.” The sandy-gray warrior recoiled as Spottedpaw approached. “Great StarClan! What have you been doing? You’re filthy!”

“I was on my way to clean up,” Spottedpaw meowed.

“Good! Look, I don’t have time to wait for you. I’ll go with Adderfang instead and meet you after sunhigh for training.” To Spottedpaw’s relief, Thrushpelt didn’t wait to find out where she had been to get so dirty. He bounded over to Adderfang and the two warriors vanished through the gorse tunnel.

Spottedpaw followed more slowly, wincing as the stony path up the side of the ravine stung her paws. How far had she run last night? She felt as sore and exhausted as if she’d circled ThunderClan’s territory three times. As she reached the top, she heard a patrol approaching and ducked under some ferns to let them pass. The cats were laden with fresh-kill and Spottedpaw’s belly rumbled, reminding her that she needed to eat. The last cat in the patrol was Thistleclaw. Spottedpaw held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice her.

Too late. The gray-and-white warrior paused, sniffed, then put down his catch—a young squirrel—and padded back to Spottedpaw’s ferns. “Hey!” he whispered. “I know you’re in there.”

Spottedpaw stuck her head out. “I’m going to clean up,” she mewed. “My fur is still covered in mud.”

Thistleclaw nodded. “You’ll learn to wipe yourself off before you come back next time.” He glanced around. “Where’s Thrushpelt?”

“On patrol with Adderfang.” Spottedpaw’s heart beat faster, as it always did when she was close to Thistleclaw. But she couldn’t forget what she had seen last night. Why was he learning to fight from evil cats?

“So you’re on your own?” Thistleclaw meowed. “Great! That means you can come training with me!” The warrior’s eyes shone and Spottedpaw felt the whirl of questions fade inside her. I trust him, don’t I?

Thistleclaw started to pad back to his squirrel. “I promised I’d take Tigerpaw and Whitepaw for some training. Patchpelt has a bellyache after eating a mouse that had maggots in it.” He hissed. “What a bee-brain.”

“I… er… yes, I’ll come with you.” Spottedpaw felt dazed. Perhaps concentrating on training would clear her head.

After retrieving his catch, Thistleclaw bounded down to the camp to fetch Tigerpaw and Whitepaw. Spottedpaw stayed among the dewy ferns, wiping her flanks against the fronds and scraping her muddy paws on the grass. Even if her pelt wasn’t completely clean, she smelled green and forest-like instead of moldy and damp.

Tigerpaw scowled when she finally joined Thistleclaw and the apprentices at the top of the ravine. “What’s she doing with us? She’s only just become an apprentice!”

“It’ll do you good to have a different training partner,” Thistleclaw meowed. He blinked warmly at Spottedpaw over Tigerpaw’s head. “Off you go! Last one to the sandy hollow has to do Weedwhisker’s ticks!”

Spottedpaw lunged forward with Tigerpaw and Whitepaw, feeling their flanks press against hers as they raced down the narrow path. Tigerpaw pulled ahead, his long legs and broad shoulders eating up the ground. Spottedpaw and Whitepaw hurtled neck and neck toward the golden patch of sand, until Spottedpaw stumbled on a bramble and Whitepaw leaped into the hollow with a yowl of delight.

“Ha! You’re on tick duty!” the white apprentice declared.

Panting, Spottedpaw trotted onto the sand. She was too winded to speak. Thistleclaw bounded up a moment later. “You all did well,” he meowed. “Especially Spottedpaw, since she’s younger than you two!”

Whitepaw rested his tail on Spottedpaw’s shoulder. “Yes, you were much faster than I expected. Well done!”

Tigerpaw just glowered. “I told you she shouldn’t be training with us.”

Thistleclaw ignored him. “I want some one-on-one battle practice today, using everything I’ve taught you. Whitepaw, I’m sure Patchpelt has shown you the same moves. Spottedpaw, you can fight whoever wins this bout.”

“This is going to be so easy,” Tigerpaw gloated, striding into the center of the hollow.

“Don’t be so sure,” growled Whitepaw. He bunched his hindquarters under him and leaped at the dark brown apprentice. Tigerpaw lost his grip on the slippery sand and Whitepaw managed to force him onto his side.

“Come on, Tigerpaw, you can’t let him win that quickly!” Thistleclaw urged.

Tigerpaw responded by shoving Whitepaw backward and pummeling him with his front paws. As Whitepaw scrabbled to find his footing, sand flew up and hit Tigerpaw.

“Ow! My eye!” he screeched, stepping away from Whitepaw and rubbing his face with one paw. “I can’t see!”

“Don’t scratch it, you’ll make it worse,” Thistleclaw told him. “Try blinking it out.”

“Does that mean I won?” asked Whitepaw. His coat was dusted with sand all the way to the ends of his whiskers, and his tail was fluffed out like a hedgehog.

Thistleclaw nodded. “All right, Spottedpaw. Show us what you can do.”

Tigerpaw groused his way to the edge of the hollow and sat down, dramatically holding one paw over his closed eye. Spottedpaw faced Whitepaw, feeling the fur bristle along her spine. She had fought her littermates in mock battles before, but never an apprentice so close to becoming a warrior!

Whitepaw gave a tiny nod to reassure her, and Thistleclaw hissed, “Don’t make it easy for her! Treat her as you would any opponent!”

In a spatter of sand, Whitepaw launched himself at Spottedpaw, and she felt her paws sink deeper under the weight of him. She tried to wriggle free but she just became more stuck. Instead, she dropped to her belly, sending Whitepaw rolling away with an oof of surprise. As soon as the weight lifted from her shoulders, Spottedpaw pulled her legs free from the sand and spun around to leap onto the white apprentice. She took him by surprise and felt a thrill as he blinked in alarm and tried to scrabble away.

In a flash Thistleclaw was beside her, whispering encouragement. “Come on, Spottedpaw! You’ve got him now! Aim for his eyes, remember?”

Spottedpaw froze. She pictured Thistleclaw slashing at Houndleap’s face, forcing the black cat to cower down in submission. I could never fight like that! Spottedpaw lunged sideways and let her front paws fall onto the sand with a thud.

“What are you doing?” screeched Thistleclaw. “Why have you stopped? You were about to win!”

Spottedpaw spun around and ran out of the hollow. Ferns lashed her muzzle and thorns clawed at her sides but she didn’t stop running until she burst out on the bank of the river. The only sounds were the buzz of flies and the ragged sound of her breathing. She crunched down the stony shore and stared into the swift-flowing water. A dark tortoiseshell face stared back at her, with white-tipped ears and huge, startled eyes.

She was going to be a warrior: that meant she would always be ready to fight for her Clan. But that didn’t mean she had to relish the feeling of claw against flesh, or try to prove her strength against her own Clanmates, or enjoy the thrill of battle the way that Tigerpaw and Thistleclaw seemed to. What I have to do is talk to Thistleclaw about the Dark Forest.

After rinsing her paws in the shallowest part of the river to clean away the last trace of Dark Forest scent, Spottedpaw pushed her way back into the undergrowth. She trotted down the ravine and marched over to Thistleclaw, who was talking to some warriors below Highrock.

He blinked at her in surprise when she appeared. “Spottedpaw, are you okay? I thought you might be hurt, the way you rushed off like that.”

Thrushpelt narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? You told me you’d taken her for a training session with Whitepaw and Tigerpaw. I trusted you to watch out for her.”

Spottedpaw ignored him. “We need to talk, Thistleclaw.”

“That sounds like an order!” Thistleclaw joked, glancing at the other warriors, who purred with amusement.

Spottedpaw didn’t say a word, just trotted back across the clearing and headed up the ravine.

“What’s this about?” Thistleclaw called, leaping after her. “You were brilliant against Whitepaw—before you ran off. You obviously learned a lot last night.”

Spottedpaw stopped dead and spun to face him. “I learned that I don’t enjoy fighting for its own sake! It’s the Dark Forest, Thistleclaw! Why do you have to go there to train?”

Thistleclaw twitched the tip of his tail. “We can’t talk here.” He led her to a dense patch of brambles, and forced his way into the center, where gnarled branches as thick as a cat’s tail had created an open space. Thistleclaw sat down, wincing slightly as he tucked his hind legs under him.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” Spottedpaw mewed. “Just like when your ear was clawed. Can’t you see that those cats are dangerous?” Her mind filled with the image of Mapleshade crouched on the fallen tree, screeching at the warriors to fight harder, use their teeth, draw more blood.

“Not to me!” Thistleclaw’s voice was low and passionate. “They’re making me into the best warrior ThunderClan has ever known!”

“If you must be taught by dead cats, why not StarClan?” Spottedpaw begged. “At least they lived by the warrior code. The cats you fought last night have all done something evil. That’s why they’re in the Place of No Stars.”

“But that doesn’t mean I will be evil too! We are more than those who teach us, Spottedpaw. I want to learn everything I can from once-great warriors, but I am still responsible for making my own decisions. Do you doubt me that much?”

His eyes were hopeful, pleading, and Spottedpaw felt her pelt begin to lie flat. “No, I don’t doubt you. But that doesn’t mean I agree with your training in the Dark Forest.”

“I’m not asking for your agreement,” Thistleclaw meowed. “This is a part of who I am. I thought you would understand why I’m doing this. I just want to keep my Clan safe—to keep you safe. I would do anything for you, Spottedpaw.”

Spottedpaw stared at him, her mind whirling. How can I argue with that? I love you as much as you love me.

Please don’t let me down.

Chapter Seven

Spottedpaw woke early from dreams filled with flashes of gray-and-white fur, Thistleclaw’s sweet scent, and threatening shadows that loomed from the undergrowth. She stood up and tiptoed out of the den.

Outside, the sky was soft and milky like the underside of a dove’s wing. Dew laced the grass, and Spottedpaw left neat wet footprints as she padded across the clearing. She could just make out the golden tabby shape of Lionheart sitting on the other side of the gorse, guarding the sleeping Clan.

“You’re up early,” commented Featherwhisker, stepping out of the ferns. He tipped his head to one side and studied her with his bright amber gaze. “Is something wrong, Spottedpaw?”

Spottedpaw looked down at her toes, studded with shining droplets of dew. There was no way she could tell him about Thistleclaw visiting the Dark Forest. That would bring all kinds of trouble, and after all, Thistleclaw hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? For a moment Spottedpaw recalled Goosefeather’s strange comment that she loved blindly and had a foolish heart. Was this what the old cat had been talking about?

“Spottedpaw, what is it?” Featherwhisker padded over and rested the tip of his tail on Spottedpaw’s flank. “Are you sick?”

Spottedpaw shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I… I had some strange dreams, that’s all.”

“I heard that you ran off from battle training yesterday,” Featherwhisker commented gently. “Tigerpaw gets too rough sometimes. He needs to remember to keep his claws sheathed when fighting his Clanmates.”

“But we won’t always be fighting our Clanmates, will we?” Spottedpaw argued. “One day I’ll be fighting a real enemy, and I’ll have to use my claws and my teeth and everything I’ve learned just to survive…”

Featherwhisker looked concerned. “Warriors face many challenges, but the warrior code protects them, Spottedpaw. No cat should ever be killed, even in the heat of battle. We fight to defend our borders, not maim the cats on the other side.”

“Some cats seem to enjoy fighting, whoever their opponent is,” Spottedpaw mewed quietly.

“Battles are only a very small part of our lives,” Featherwhisker went on. “A true warrior has more love in her heart than hatred. Love for her Clanmates, for the forest that shelters her, for the prey that feeds us all.”

The brambles around the warriors’ den rustled, and cats started gathering beneath the Highledge. Tawnyspots walked among them, choosing cats for the dawn patrol. Spottedpaw blinked in alarm as Stormtail emerged from the brambles. The warrior had lost weight, and he looked unsteady on his paws. The first thing he did was walk over to the heap of soaked moss outside the elders’ den and drink deeply, as if he had not seen water for a moon.

Spottedpaw padded over to him. “Are you feeling all right, Stormtail?” she mewed.

Stormtail turned to look at her, his eyes bleary and ringed with sleep. “I’m fine,” he rasped, but Spottedpaw noticed that his muzzle was dry and his breath smelled like crow-food.

“I don’t think you are,” she meowed. “Why don’t you see Featherwhisker? I think you might be sick.”

Stormtail lashed his tail. “Don’t fuss. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Bluefur overheard and came over. “My father knows if he is sick or not,” she told Spottedpaw. “Leave him alone. The patrol is ready to go.” She nodded to Stormtail, who followed her to the other warriors.

“I want you to head up past Snakerocks and then follow the border along the Thunderpath,” Tawnyspots ordered. “We’ve chased off a couple of rogues there recently and I want to be sure they haven’t come back. They didn’t look dangerous but our territory is full of prey at the moment and they might see it as easy pickings. Speckletail, you take the lead.”

The tabby she-cat nodded and trotted toward the gorse tunnel with the rest of the patrol bunched at her heels. Spottedpaw winced as Stormtail stumbled, but he gathered himself up and vanished into the gorse on Bluefur’s heels. His flanks were so pinched and bony that Spottedpaw could see Bluefur’s haunches clearly on either side of Stormtail’s lean shape.

She watched as the gorse stopped quivering behind the cats, then turned and padded into the medicine den. Featherwhisker was sorting a pile of tansy leaves and the air smelled green and fragrant. The space seemed larger now that Goosefeather had finally agreed to move to the elders’ den, and his ragged nest among the ferns had been cleared away.

“I think Stormtail is sick,” Spottedpaw blurted out.

The medicine cat put down the leaf he was unfurling and looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s not walking properly, his muzzle is dry, and his breath smells bad. And he drank nearly all the water from the elders’ moss before he went on patrol. I don’t know if he’s eating, either. He’s so thin!”

Featherwhisker’s eyes darkened. “You’re right. I’d noticed he was looking rather bony, but I assumed he’d had an upset stomach and not wanted to bother me. But if his muzzle is dry and he’s that thirsty… He shouldn’t have gone on patrol, that’s for sure. Do you know where they were headed?”

“Up past Snakerocks to the Thunderpath.”

“Right, I’ll go after them and bring Stormtail back. Thanks for letting me know, Spottedpaw.”

Featherwhisker was halfway through the ferns when there was a commotion in the clearing and a pale gray shape bundled into him.

“Whoa, White-eye!” Featherwhisker meowed. “What’s the rush?”

The she-cat bounced back onto her haunches. “I’ve got a thorn in my eye!” she spat. “It caught me as I was coming out of the den, would you believe it?”

“Okay, let me take a look,” Featherwhisker mewed, and he guided White-eye to the little space outside his den. The she-cat lurched beside him, letting out a little moan of fear. Spottedpaw felt her belly flip over. White-eye was already blind on one side, but it was her good eye that was closed and weeping from the thorn scratch.

Featherwhisker gently pried open her eyelid. “The thorn isn’t there now, thank StarClan. Let me bathe it with some marigold and you should be fine.”

White-eye sagged with relief. “I’m so scared of losing that one as well,” she murmured.

The medicine cat stroked her shoulder with his tail. “I would be, too.” He looked over White-eye’s head at Spottedpaw. “Can you get Stormtail, please? I want to treat White-eye first.”

“Of course!” Spottedpaw jumped up and pushed her way through the ferns.

Thrushpelt was washing his chest outside the warriors’ den. “Hey, Spottedpaw!” he called. “You need to clean out the elders’ den today, remember?”

“I’ll do it later,” Spottedpaw called back. “I have to do something for Featherwhisker first.”

Thrushpelt narrowed his eyes. “You’re not his apprentice.”

“This is really important,” Spottedpaw snapped. “Stormtail’s sick!”

She brushed past her mentor and hurtled through the gorse tunnel. As she plunged into the trees above the ravine, she flashed back to her dream of fighting for her life in a dense, shadowed forest, and for a moment her paws froze. Then she shook herself. She was in her own territory now, and there were no enemies here. Just a sick warrior who needed her help.

She raced along the path that led past Snakerocks and skidded to a halt at the edge of a thick swath of brambles. She could hear monsters rumbling along the Thunderpath on the other side. She swiveled her ears, trying to pick up the sound of the patrol. A crackle of twigs made her spin toward Twolegplace and struggle through the long grass around the edge of the brambles. She burst through a clump of dead bracken and came face-to-face with Thistleclaw.

“Spottedpaw! Are you looking for me?” he meowed.

She shook her head. “No, Stormtail. Is he with you?” She peered past him.

Bluefur was renewing a scent marker on a crooked oak tree. “What are you doing here, Spottedpaw? You’re not on this patrol.”

“I need to find Stormtail,” Spottedpaw panted. “Featherwhisker sent me to get him.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thistleclaw’s eyes darken.

“You’re looking for Stormtail?” meowed Speckletail, joining them. She glanced over her shoulder. “I thought he was behind me, but he seems to have disappeared.”

“He must have stopped to check the scent marker beside the Thunderpath,” Bluefur mewed.

“Actually I’ve just done that one,” mewed Rosetail, popping up from a clump of grass.

“Where’s he gone?” muttered Speckletail.

“We have to find him!” Spottedpaw cried. She plunged past the warriors and followed the trail they had left, marked out by fresh scent and evidence of broken twigs and crushed grass. Behind her, she heard Speckletail ordering the rest of the patrol to spread out and look for their Clanmate. Spottedpaw paused at a spot where the trail seemed to separate and opened her muzzle wide to taste the air. The breeze carried the faintest tang of a rank, stale scent. Spottedpaw tensed. That’s Stormtail!

She bounded toward the smell, flattening her ears to keep them out of the way of the brambles. “Stormtail! Are you there?” she yowled.

She stopped to listen, but there was only the alarmed chack of a blackbird startled from a holly bush. Startled by what? Spottedpaw wondered. She headed toward the bush, and at once the stale scent grew stronger. A blue-gray shape was slumped beneath the holly, as still as a boulder.

“I’ve found him!” Spottedpaw screeched. She raced over to Stormtail and pressed her cheek to his muzzle. She felt the faintest stir of air against her whiskers. He’s alive! Bracken crackled as the rest of the patrol joined her.

“Great StarClan!” Speckletail swore. “Thistleclaw, Bluefur, get either side of Stormtail and prop him up. Rosetail, you take the weight of his haunches.” The tabby she-cat looked around. “Spottedpaw, you carry his tail, make sure it doesn’t catch on any thorns.”

Spottedpaw nodded and picked up the warrior’s heavy tail in her jaws. The other warriors clustered around him and boosted him to his paws. His head hung down and his eyes stayed closed, but at least he was breathing—ragged, gasping breaths that made his scrawny flanks heave.

It seemed to take a moon to get Stormtail back to the camp, with every root and tendril snagging his limp paws or clutching at his drooping muzzle. When they reached the top of the ravine, Speckletail ordered Spottedpaw to run ahead and let Featherwhisker know they were here. The medicine cat had already prepared a nest of soft moss, with more soaked moss close by for Stormtail to drink. The warriors eased the sick cat carefully through the ferns and laid him down in front of Featherwhisker, whose eyes darkened as he studied Stormtail’s limp shape.

“He has the thirsting sickness,” he murmured, and Spottedpaw pricked her ears, straining to hear from the back of the cluster of warriors. “I cannot cure it, but I can make him more comfortable.” The medicine cat tucked Stormtail’s legs under him and pushed the soaked moss against his muzzle. The warrior stirred and lapped feebly at the touch of water. Bluefur crouched beside him. “You’re safe now,” she whispered. “You’re in Featherwhisker’s den, and he’s going to take care of you.”

Spottedpaw felt a flash of indignation. No thanks to Bluefur, who had insisted Stormtail was well enough to go on the patrol!

“Leave us alone now,” Featherwhisker mewed softly. He looked at Bluefur. “Don’t worry. I will take good care of your father.”

Spottedpaw followed the warriors into the clearing. Bluefur was standing alone beside the tree stump, her tail drooping. Spottedpaw marched up to her. “You shouldn’t have forced Stormtail to join the patrol!” she meowed fiercely.

The she-cat looked startled. “I didn’t force him!”

“You didn’t listen to me either,” Spottedpaw growled. “I told you he was sick.”

“You’re not a medicine cat!” Bluefur retorted. “Why should I have listened to you?” She stomped away, flicking her tail in disgust.

Thrushpelt padded over to Spottedpaw. “I hear you’ve been a bit of a hero,” he meowed. “Stormtail will be very grateful when he’s better.” There was an edge to the warrior’s tone that made Spottedpaw glance warily up at him. Thrushpelt nodded toward the gorse tunnel. “I think we need to talk.”

In silence, Spottedpaw followed him out of the camp. Her legs ached from her frantic dash through the forest, and she was relieved when Thrushpelt led her to Sunningrocks and settled on a warm, flat rock. The sound of the river soothed her, and her eyelids began to feel heavy.

Thrushpelt sighed. “I have to ask you something, Spottedpaw.”

Her heart started to pound. Did Thrushpelt know she had been to the Dark Forest?

The sandy-gray cat looked at her. “Is your heart truly set on becoming a warrior?” he mewed.

Spottedpaw flinched. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a good cat, Spottedpaw, but you seem distracted in our training sessions, and lately you’ve been more interested in helping Featherwhisker.”

Spottedpaw felt her pelt burn. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll train harder from now on.”

Thrushpelt shook his head. “Spottedpaw, would you like to become Featherwhisker’s apprentice instead?”

She stared at him in astonishment. “Wh-what?”

“Would you like to train as a medicine cat? I’ve seen how good you are at recognizing the herbs, and you probably saved Stormtail’s life today. I know Featherwhisker has asked you before, and I want you to know that it would be okay. I like having you as my apprentice, but if your heart lies elsewhere, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Spottedpaw opened and closed her mouth like a fledgling waiting for food. “I-I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

Her mentor tilted his head to one side. “Think about it,” he urged. “But remember that if you do become a medicine cat, it would mean giving up more than just your warrior training. Very few cats can make the commitment that Featherwhisker has. I think you’d be a great medicine cat, but you have to want it with all your heart.”

Spottedpaw blinked. How had Thrushpelt noticed so much, yet said nothing before now? Did he really believe she would be a good medicine cat? She shook her head. She had wanted to be a warrior since the day she was born. There was nothing more honorable than protecting your Clan, feeding your Clanmates, defending the borders. She had trained so hard alongside her littermates. They would stand side by side all their lives, fighting for ThunderClan.

And there was still Thistleclaw…

She took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Thrushpelt, I really do. But I want to be a warrior.”

Chapter Eight

Spottedpaw opened her eyes and saw greasy gray trunks looming around her, lit by a pale, unnatural glow. It worked! I dreamed myself into the Place of No Stars! With her heart pounding, Spottedpaw trotted along the narrow path between the dying bracken. This forest looked the same everywhere, so she couldn’t tell if she had returned to the place she had been before.

She peered into the undergrowth. She had to find Thistleclaw and tell him that she had made the decision to be a warrior, not a medicine cat. And she wanted to give him one more chance to prove to her that he was learning valuable battle skills here, nothing more…

Something black and slippery swooped overhead, and Spottedpaw ducked. She craned her neck to see where the flying thing went but it vanished into the shadowy branches. She padded on, her pelt crawling as rotten ferns clutched at her fur. Suddenly she heard crashing and a muffled screech, followed by a sickening thud.

She crept through the trees to the edge of a steep-sided hollow. Below her, Mapleshade watched a group of cats grappling with each other. Blood spattered the sandy ground, and Mapleshade’s eyes gleamed like pale stars. Spottedpaw winced as she recognized Thistleclaw’s lean gray shape wrestling with a fox-colored she-cat whose ears were shredded to tattered stumps. White hairs on her muzzle suggested that she was older than the others, and her paws seemed to lose their grip too frequently on the slippery ground.

Spottedpaw waited for Thistleclaw to flip the she-cat onto her back and claim his victory, but he seemed to be playing with her as if she were a wounded bird, letting her scramble back to her paws after every blow. In horror, Spottedpaw realized that the she-cat wasn’t fox-red at all, but a light brown tabby stained scarlet with blood. There was a deep wound on her flank and teeth marks along her spine. Spottedpaw sank her claws into the earth. Had Thistleclaw made those wounds?

For a moment the she-cat flickered against the ground, and Spottedpaw glimpsed sand and pools of blood through her fur. She blinked. Thistleclaw had one foot on the she-cat’s neck now, pressing her down to the sand. The old cat’s hind paws scrabbled to find a grip, but she was too weak. She started to sink to her belly.

Spottedpaw threw herself down the side of the hollow. “Stop, Thistleclaw! You’re killing her!”

Thistleclaw looked up at her, blood dripping from his muzzle. “Get away from here!” he snarled.

Around him, the other cats stopped fighting and bristled, bloodstained and claw-scratched fur rising along their spines. Spottedpaw ignored them and threw herself at Thistleclaw, knocking him backward. She sprang to the side of the old cat and desperately pressed her paws against the wound on her flank, where blood was pulsing out relentlessly.

But it was getting harder to see the she-cat; her fur was fading against the bloodstained sand, and her body felt like mist beneath Spottedpaw’s pads. Then she was pressing against nothing but the cold wet ground, and the old cat had vanished.

Spottedpaw stared at Thistleclaw in horror. “Where has she gone? What happened?”

There was a heavy thud of paw steps across the hollow and Mapleshade loomed above her, clouded in the stench of blood and crow-food. “This whiny little apprentice again, Thistleclaw?” she hissed. “Get rid of her, before I do.” She turned and stalked toward the other cats, gathering them to her with a flick of her heavy white tail.

Spottedpaw was too furious to feel afraid. She stood up and faced her Clanmate, ignoring the stickiness beneath her paws. “I came to tell you that Thrushpelt asked me if I wanted to train as a medicine cat, and I said no!” she meowed. “How could I, if that meant losing you? But this place… this has done something terrible to you. You are not just training to be a loyal ThunderClan warrior. You’re murdering helpless cats!”

“That cat wasn’t helpless!” Thistleclaw spat. “She fought as hard as I did!”

“No, she didn’t,” Spottedpaw mewed. “She died.” She looked around. “At least… she bled so much that she vanished. I cannot be with you if this is where you spend every night—if this is what you do here. If you truly love me, promise you will never come here again.”

There was a flash of pain in Thistleclaw’s eyes and Spottedpaw felt her heart leap with hope. Then he lifted his head. “This is my destiny, Spottedpaw. I am going to be the greatest warrior ThunderClan has ever known. I will be the next deputy, and the next leader of our Clan. Every cat in the forest will fear us! There will be no battle we cannot win! How can I possibly give that up?”

Spottedpaw felt a crack open up in her heart. “Being a warrior is not about destroying our rivals,” she whispered. “It is about making our Clan strong and safe alongside the other cats in the forest. Please, Thistleclaw. I will give you everything.”

Thistleclaw turned away from her so she couldn’t see his face. “You don’t get it, Spottedpaw,” he meowed. “I can’t turn away from my destiny. Nothing is more important than this. The rip of flesh beneath my claws, the taste of blood, the scent of my enemy’s fear… I am hungry for all of it, and I will keep fighting until ThunderClan rules the entire forest!”

“Then you have made your choice,” Spottedpaw told him, feeling as if she were falling into a deep, deep hole.

“There is no choice to make,” Thistleclaw growled. “I have dedicated my whole life to becoming the greatest warrior ThunderClan has ever known. And if you won’t help me, there is no place for you in my life.”

“But what about the things you said to me before? What about love?”

“Love doesn’t win battles!” Thistleclaw spat.

“You’re wrong,” Spottedpaw mewed quietly. “Love is stronger than everything.” She turned and looked back over her shoulder. “Good-bye, Thistleclaw. May StarClan light your path, always.” Wherever your path leads, she added silently.

As she padded out of the hollow, the forest faded around her and she was lying in her own nest, her fur smelling of the old she-cat’s blood. There was a pain in her heart sharper than the bite of fox teeth. I have loved foolishly, and my heart has been blind.

She pictured going to Sunstar and Tawnyspots and telling them about Thistleclaw’s visits to the Dark Forest. Would they even believe her? And what could they do? No cat could guard another in his sleep. There was no way to stop Thistleclaw from pursuing his murderous path; but there was something Spottedpaw could do to help her Clanmates.

The other nests in the den were empty and Spottedpaw guessed her denmates were on the dawn patrol. She pushed her way out through the brambles and almost collided with Stormtail, who was being propped up by Bluefur.

“I’m taking him to the dirtplace,” Bluefur explained.

Stormtail focused his gaze on Spottedpaw. “Thank you,” he rasped. “Featherwhisker says I would have died if you hadn’t found me.”

Spottedpaw dipped her head.

Stormtail shifted his weight from Bluefur’s shoulder. “I’m not so feeble that my own daughter has to watch me make dirt,” he grunted. He limped away.

Bluefur looked at Spottedpaw. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” she meowed. “I should have seen that Stormtail was sick.”

Spottedpaw twitched her ears. “I made a lucky guess,” she mewed with a shrug.

“No, you didn’t. You’re very smart, Spottedpaw. You always see so much.”

Too much, thought Spottedpaw, picturing the old cat fading away in the Dark Forest.

Bluefur stared at the bushes that shielded the dirtplace. The leaves were still trembling from where Stormtail had pushed through. “I’ve lost my mother and my sister,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear to lose my father as well.”

There was so much sadness in her voice that Spottedpaw wanted to press her cheek against Bluefur’s muzzle and promise she would never leave her. Instead, she meowed, “You are a ThunderClan warrior. You will never be alone.”

Bluefur nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Spottedpaw. Take care of yourself. There are difficult times ahead for us, I can feel it.”

Spottedpaw opened her mouth to ask what Bluefur meant. But Stormtail was emerging from the bushes and Bluefur trotted to meet him, her tail kinked high over her back. Spottedpaw watched the gray she-cat, wondering if her dreams were also filled with the sounds of screeching, clawing cats.

If Thistleclaw achieved his ambition to become Clan leader, so many blood-soaked battles lay ahead. There would be so many injures, so many lives lost. For what? A moment of victory, until the next time warrior was pitched against warrior?

These were not the kind of battles Spottedpaw had trained to fight. Her destiny lay on a different path.

She marched through the ferns to Featherwhisker’s den. The medicine cat was at the mouth of the cleft in the rock, laying out some herbs to dry in the sun. He pricked his ears when he saw Spottedpaw.

“Can I help you?” he mewed.

“Yes,” she replied. “I want to become your apprentice.”

Chapter Nine

“From this moment, you will be known as Tigerclaw. ThunderClan honors your courage and your skill at fighting, and we welcome you as a warrior. May StarClan light your path, always.” Sunstar bowed his head to the dark tabby tom and stepped back. His paws left sharp black prints on the light dusting of snow, and his fur was speckled with white flakes.

“Tigerclaw! Whitestorm!” yowled the Clan.

Tigerclaw lifted his head and stared around at his Clanmates as they filled the ravine with the names of the new warriors. Beside him, Whitestorm’s eyes shone.

“Snowfur would be so proud of him,” Spottedpaw heard Bluefur meow.

“Not so many moons until you’ll be watching your own kits become warriors,” commented Poppydawn with a pointed glance at Bluefur’s rounded belly, clearly visible under her thick fur.

“But will we know who the father is by then?” whispered Rosetail.

“Surely it’s Thrushpelt?” hissed Fuzzypelt.

“I can’t see who else it would be,” Rosetail agreed, keeping her voice low. “But do you ever see the two of them together?”

Spottedpaw looked across the clearing at her former mentor. She knew he had always been fond of Bluefur, enough that she thought they might become mates. Spottedpaw felt a pang of regret that she had denied Thrushpelt the chance to watch her become a warrior. He had been a good mentor. But it would be a long time before Spottedpaw received her medicine cat name. There was so much to learn from Featherwhisker, more than could be fitted into six moons, or even a lifetime.

Her fur tingled, and she knew Thistleclaw was watching her. She stiffened, refusing to meet his gaze. Every cat knew he planned to become deputy after Tawnyspots. The gray tabby tom was well liked but it was no secret that he was becoming too frail to succeed Sunstar as leader. He would retire to the elders’ den and Sunstar would choose another deputy before reaching his ninth life. Thistleclaw was the obvious choice, and he had already started to organize the patrols when Tawnyspots was too weak to leave his nest.

Only Spottedpaw knew what kind of leader Thistleclaw would be once he had clawed his way to power. Her heart had not turned to stone, however. It still hurt to look at him, especially when she glimpsed him being gentle or playful, and she recalled the cat she had once loved. But she had made her choice, and there was no turning back. My heart is no longer foolish, she told herself.

Paw steps crunched over the snow behind her, and Featherwhisker murmured, “Time to get back to the den, Spottedpaw. I’d like you to empty the store completely so we can see what herbs we have to last us until the end of leaf-bare.”

Shivering, Spottedpaw followed her mentor through the frost-nipped ferns. Every day seemed colder than the last, and the sky was a dull shade of yellow, promising more snow.

“Kits are always welcome,” Featherwhisker meowed as they settled down in the shelter of the cave. “But great StarClan, couldn’t White-eye and Bluefur have waited until newleaf? I don’t know if I have enough milk thistle for another nursing queen.”

White-eye had kitted two moons ago, when the days were still warmed by a generous leaf-fall sun. Mousekit and Runningkit had grown quickly, and were strong enough to see through the cold weather now. But Bluefur’s kits would face a much tougher fight, and Spottedpaw had been gathering feathers from every bird on the fresh-kill pile to line the nest in the nursery.

“Don’t worry, they’ll have the whole Clan looking after them when they arrive,” Featherwhisker purred as if he could see into Spottedpaw’s thoughts. “ThunderClan never gives up its kits easily.”

“Get your paws off!” Bluefur hissed as her belly rippled under Spottedpaw’s forelegs.

Spottedpaw sprang back as if she had been bitten, almost colliding with Featherwhisker, who was crouched just behind her.

“Sorry,” Bluefur grunted. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”

“Did I hurt you?” Spottedpaw mewed.

Featherwhisker touched her flank with the tip of his tail. “No. Queens can be a bit crabby when kitting.” He glanced sideways at Bluefur. “Some are crabbier than others.”

“You’d be crabby if you’d been kitting since dawn!” Bluefur retorted, then winced as another spasm wracked her body.

“Is she all right?” White-eye called anxiously from the other side of the nursery.

“She’s fine,” Spottedpaw replied. Though it would be easier if there weren’t so many cats in here! Mousekit and Runningkit were staring huge-eyed from their nest, as if they couldn’t believe they had joined the Clan the same way. Spottedpaw tried to shift in front of them so that Bluefur had more privacy.

“Here comes the first one,” Featherwhisker announced from beside Bluefur’s tail. “Spottedpaw, when it arrives, nip the kitting-sac with your teeth to release it.”

A dark wet shape slithered onto the feathers and Spottedpaw craned her neck to break the delicate sac and release a tiny muzzle, already gulping for air.

“A tom!” Featherwhisker meowed.

Bluefur tried to sit up. “Is he okay?” she mewed weakly.

The little shape beside Spottedpaw’s nose lay ominously still.

“Quick, Spottedpaw!” Featherwhisker ordered. “Lick him fiercely!”

Spottedpaw ran her tongue over the tiny creature as if she could pummel life into him.

“Is he breathing?” Bluefur wailed.

“He is now,” Featherwhisker meowed. He nuzzled the kit into Bluefur’s belly.

Bluefur curled around him and licked his head. “He’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“He truly is,” Spottedpaw agreed, marveling at the miniature perfection of Bluefur’s son.

There was another ripple across Bluefur’s belly, and one more shape slid into the nest.

“A she-kit,” Featherwhisker announced as he pushed the little cat to join her brother. He ran his paw over Bluefur’s flank. “One more, I think.”

Bluefur’s eyes rolled with exhaustion. Spottedpaw bent down to her head. “You can do it!” she whispered. “You’re being incredible!” She held Bluefur’s gaze as the she-cat strained once more. “That’s it!”

“Well done!” Featherwhisker cried. “Another she-kit! And all three look healthy and strong.”

“You did it!” Spottedpaw mewed softly into Bluefur’s ear. “Three perfect ThunderClan warriors! Or medicine cats,” she added, earning a faint purr of amusement from the worn-out queen.

There was a rustle of branches and a sandy-gray head appeared through the wall of the nursery. “How is she?” Thrushpelt called.

“Bluefur’s fine,” Featherwhisker told him. “She had three healthy kits. Two she-kits and a tom.”

Thrushpelt clambered into the den and crouched down to rub his muzzle on Bluefur’s ears. Spottedpaw wriggled back to let them speak alone. It looked like the she-cats of ThunderClan were right: Thrushpelt was the father of these kits. Yet they had never been affectionate in front of other cats the way that White-eye and Halftail or Robinwing and Patchpelt were.

“What are you going to call them?” White-eye asked, scrambling out of her nest to peer at the tiny bundles.

“The dark gray she-kit will be Mistykit,” Bluefur purred. “And the gray tom, Stonekit.”

“What about this one?” mewed Thrushpelt, touching the tiny gray-and-white kit with the tip of his tail.

“Mosskit,” Bluefur meowed firmly.

Featherwhisker twitched his ears. “So you’re not letting the father decide on any of the names?” he purred playfully. “You always were determined, Bluefur.”

There was a light in his eyes beyond mere teasing, however. Spottedpaw felt her fur begin to tingle. Did Featherwhisker suspect that Bluefur was hiding something about these kits? Could there be a chance that Thrushpelt wasn’t their father? But if not, who could it be? Which warrior in ThunderClan would want to keep a secret like that?

Spottedpaw forced her mind to stop chasing after wild imaginings. Right at this moment, nothing mattered more than these three perfect new Clanmates. She gazed down at them, feeling warm to the tips of her toes. I will protect you with my life, she vowed silently. Whatever happens, I will be your medicine cat. It will be an honor to serve you.

She let out a long purr. Being a medicine cat was better than she had ever imagined!

Chapter Ten

Spottedpaw stopped to catch her breath and wondered why she had ever wanted to be a medicine cat. Goosefeather had coughed himself hoarse and was demanding freshly soaked moss, which meant a slippery walk to a rivulet that had formed from recent rain near the top of the ravine. Spottedpaw had lost count of how many bundles of moss she had carried back from the tiny stream; she was close to telling all the elders to sit in the clearing with their mouths open next time it rained, to save her some time.

As she trudged back down the path, she saw Tawnyspots emerge from the dirtplace.

“Must have eaten a dodgy blackbird!” he mewed.

But Spottedpaw looked at his hollow flanks and the way each step made him flinch, and knew he was much sicker than that. Cats had started wondering how long he would be able to stay as deputy, and how soon Sunstar would appoint Thistleclaw instead. Spottedpaw braced her shoulders to push through the gorse and reminded herself to count out the herb supplies again, to see if there was any way of boosting them with the leaves that were available now.

“Spottedpaw! Did you bring me back a treat?” Mosskit bounced up on paws that seemed too big for her.

“And me! And me!” mewed Mistykit, trotting after her sister. Her stubby tail stuck straight up in the air and her dark gray fur was fluffed up around her ears. “Come on, Stonekit! Spottedpaw’s brought us a treat!”

Spottedpaw put down the sodden lump of moss as the little cats bounced around her. Bluefur’s kits were a moon old now, and growing fast in spite of the cold.

Stonekit stuck his nose into the moss and jumped back, shaking droplets from his muzzle. “Wet moss is a yucky treat!” he complained.

“That’s because it’s not meant for you,” Spottedpaw meowed, picking up the moss before any more kits attacked it, and carrying it to the elders’ den. Goosefeather was lying on his side in his nest, breathing laboriously. He started lapping at the moss at once, lashing his tail when Mumblefoot tried to crouch alongside to share it.

“I’ll get some more,” Spottedpaw promised wearily.

As she headed back across the clearing, she passed Thrushpelt, who was staggering under the weight of a plump squirrel.

“Good catch!” Spottedpaw called.

“Is that for us?” squeaked Mistykit, racing over to sniff at the squirrel. A piece of fur stuck to her muzzle and she sneezed.

“That’s a real treat!” mewed Stonekit.

“Of course it’s for you,” Thrushpelt purred. “Is there any cat more important to feed than you?”

Mosskit shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she replied with a serious expression in her blue eyes. “The warrior code says kits and elders have to be fed first. And that’s us!”

Bluefur padded over from the tree stump, where she had been talking to Rosetail. “Actually, I just fed them,” she mewed to Thrushpelt. “You can put that squirrel on the fresh-kill pile.”

“That’s not fair!” wailed Mistykit. “Thrushpelt said he caught it for us!”

“I’m your mother,” Bluefur meowed. “If I say you’ve had enough to eat, then you have.”

Spottedpaw waited for Thrushpelt to remind Bluefur that he was their father, and if he wanted to catch fresh-kill for them, that was his right. But Thrushpelt said nothing, simply picked up the squirrel with a murmured apology to the kits and carried it away.

“That’s not fair!” Stonekit pouted, turning his back on Bluefur.

“Life isn’t fair,” Bluefur retorted, but her attention was drifting away and her gaze was fixed on the gorse tunnel.

Thistleclaw was returning at the head of a border patrol, with Tigerclaw bouncing beside him. Their pelts were fluffed up and Tigerclaw’s muzzle bore signs of claw marks.

“Those kittypets won’t be coming back into ThunderClan territory again!” Thistleclaw declared. “Tigerclaw will be picking their fur from his claws for the next moon!”

Sunstar pricked his ears from where he sat beneath Highledge. “More intruders?” he asked. “I renewed the scent markers beside Twolegplace yesterday. I can’t believe those kittypets have crossed them already!”

“Don’t worry,” Thistleclaw assured him. “Our borders are safe now.”

The rest of his patrol entered the clearing, and Spottedpaw noticed that Fuzzypelt was limping. She went over to the black warrior and asked if he was okay.

Fuzzypelt twitched his ears. “It’s nothing. Just a splinter.”

“Let me have a look.” Spottedpaw steered him to the edge of the clearing and bent down to study his paw. Sure enough, a shard of wood was stuck in the soft part of his pad. “I can get this out, but it might sting a bit,” she mewed. Before Fuzzypelt could object, she gripped the tip of the splinter in her teeth and tugged it free.

“Ow!” Fuzzypelt jumped backward, but then tested his paw on the ground and nodded. “Much better. Thanks, Spottedpaw.”

Spottedpaw was studying the splinter. It was very pale and straight, and had a strong, distinctive smell. This hadn’t come from a tree or a fallen branch. “Where did you get this?” she meowed.

Fuzzypelt shrugged. “I don’t know, somewhere in the forest, I guess.” He sounded evasive, and when Spottedpaw looked up at him, he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“I recognize this scent,” she murmured. “You got this splinter from a Twoleg fence, didn’t you? Did Thistleclaw lead a patrol into Twolegplace looking for kittypets?” She felt cold beneath her pelt.

Fuzzypelt’s yellow eyes filled with confusion. “He said we weren’t to say anything. Those kittypets need to be taught a lesson! They keep crossing our borders!”

“But they didn’t cross them today,” Spottedpaw pointed out. “Not since Sunstar renewed the scent markers. Thistleclaw should not have gone into Twoleg territory.”

“No harm done,” Fuzzypelt mewed uneasily.

“I wonder if the kittypet whose fur is underneath Tigerclaw’s claws would agree.”

Fuzzypelt backed away, looking relieved when Thistleclaw summoned him to the fresh-kill pile.

“My warriors need to eat!” the gray-and-white warrior declared.

“They are not his warriors,” growled a voice beside Spottedpaw.

She jumped, and turned to see Bluefur beside her, scowling at Thistleclaw. “He took that patrol into Twolegplace, didn’t he?” the gray she-cat hissed. “That was not his decision to make!”

“Are you going to tell Sunstar?” Spottedpaw asked.

Bluefur lashed her tail. “What would be the point? Ever since our victory in the battle with RiverClan, which Thistleclaw claims he fought single-pawed, Sunstar listens to everything he says. You know he’s taken over organizing all the patrols now?”

Spottedpaw meowed, “We’re going to have to get used to him being in charge. Sunstar is bound to make him our next deputy.”

Bluefur’s eyes darkened. “Not if I can help it,” she rasped, and Spottedpaw flinched.

She gestured with her tail to where Stonekit, Mosskit, and Mistykit were playing pounce with a dead leaf. “Thistleclaw can’t be that important to you,” she urged. “You have three other lives to think about now!”

To her astonishment, Bluefur’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “I love them so much,” she murmured. “But I love my Clan, too. I could never wish they hadn’t been born, but why now? What if my Clan needs me more than they do?”

Spottedpaw froze. Had Bluefur intended for her to hear that? The queen sounded so desperate, so lonely, but Spottedpaw couldn’t bring herself to ask what she meant. Instead, she mewed, “You are not alone, Bluefur. Thrushpelt will always help you to care for your kits.”

The queen looked at her, though her gaze seemed focused on something beyond Spottedpaw. “I cannot ask more of him than I already have.”

But he’s their father! The words stuck in Spottedpaw’s throat. Was Bluefur about to tell her that wasn’t true?

Bluefur sighed. “Love can lead a cat so far astray that it becomes too late to turn back,” she whispered.

Spottedpaw thought of how she had fallen for Thistleclaw, how her foolish heart had been blind to his cruelty and his ambition until she watched him kill a cat in the Dark Forest. “It’s never too late!” she blurted out. “You can always change the path you follow!”

Bluefur stared at her kits, who had finished demolishing the dead leaf and were now stalking the tip of Mumblefoot’s tail. “I have a decision to make,” she mewed softly. “But I am filled with too much love, and too much fear.”

“What do you mean?” Spottedpaw pressed. “Can I help?”

The queen shook her head. “No. This is something I must do alone.”

She padded away, not to her kits but to the gorse tunnel. Spottedpaw watched her leave, her belly heavy with dread. Bluefur sounded as if she was about to choose between life and death, she had been so serious. What was she going to do?

A full, gleaming moon hung over the trees, turning the snow-covered ground silver. The air in the camp crackled with tension as warriors circled, ready to set off for the Gathering. Spottedpaw was staying behind to watch over Tawnyspots, who had weakened so much that Featherwhisker ordered him to sleep in the medicine den. She stood among the ferns at the edge of the clearing, watching her mentor talk quietly to Sunstar.

“Spottedpaw, can I ask you a favor?” It was Bluefur, her eyes huge and anxious. Her breath hung in a cloud around her muzzle.

“Of course. Are the kits all right?”

“They’re fine. I wore them out today with a game of hide-and-seek, so they should sleep till dawn.” Bluefur shifted her paws. “I… I want to go to the Gathering tonight. Please, will you check on my kits while I’m away? White-eye said she’d watch them but she has her paws full with Runningkit and Mousekit.”

Spottedpaw blinked. A nursing queen never went to Gatherings, not when her kits still needed her. But there was something desperate in Bluefur’s gaze that made her nod. “Yes, I’ll keep an eye on them,” she meowed.

Bluefur blinked warmly at her. “Thank you, Spottedpaw. I’ll remember this.” She trotted away and her blue-gray pelt merged with the other warriors as they headed into the gorse.

Spottedpaw made sure that Tawnyspots was comfortable and gave him another mint leaf to chew. Mercifully she had found a fresh plant near the river that had been sheltered from the worst of the snow. The leaves would ease Tawnyspots’s bellyache, though Spottedpaw knew there was little more that she and Featherwhisker could do to help him.

When Tawnyspots had finished his leaf and was dozing with his chin propped on the edge of his nest, Spottedpaw trotted over to the nursery. Her paws crunched in the snow, and the bitter cold stung her pads. She poked her head through the brambles and was relieved to see that all the kits, and White-eye, were fast asleep, tiny snores filling the air. The nursery was warm and milk-scented, and for a moment Spottedpaw was tempted to creep in and curl up among the kits. But she wouldn’t sleep tonight, at least not until Featherwhisker returned. She was the sole medicine cat in the Clan, and all the cats here were in her charge. Puffing out her fur, Spottedpaw headed back to her den to wait out the night.

The cats returned just before dawn, quiet and hunched from the cold. Spottedpaw nodded to them as they trooped into the clearing and headed for their dens. Bluefur stopped beside her. Her eyes were clear, and she seemed much calmer now.

“Have you decided what to do?” Spottedpaw asked.

Bluefur nodded. “I have made my choice.” She walked away without saying anything, and Spottedpaw wondered if she would ever know what that decision had been.

Spottedpaw opened her eyes with a start. What was that noise? The sky was filled with stars, hazy in the bitter cold. More snow had fallen since the Gathering, and all around the medicine den the ferns were flattened under the weight of its icy white pelt. Spottedpaw sat up. Was Tawnyspots stirring in his nest? She craned her neck to see, but the deputy seemed to be lying still, breathing loudly but steadily.

The noise came again, a soft rustle and the tiniest murmur. Spottedpaw stepped out of her nest and crept past Featherwhisker and Tawnyspots, thanking StarClan that she hadn’t forgotten how to stalk like a warrior. The clearing was still and silent, every sound muffled by the snow. Spottedpaw padded over to the nursery and listened, but only soft snores came from inside. What had disturbed her?

She turned toward the gorse tunnel. Stormtail was on guard tonight, back to warrior duties now that Featherwhisker had found herbs to help with his thirsting sickness. Spottedpaw decided to check that he was okay in the bitter cold. She pushed through the frosty gorse, shivering as icy thorns brushed the back of her neck. Stormtail jumped when she appeared, then let out a purr.

“I was almost dozing off!” he told her. “It’s so quiet out here.”

“Better than a ShadowClan invasion,” Spottedpaw joked. Suddenly she spotted movement behind Stormtail, halfway up the ravine. Was it a cat? Why weren’t they using the regular path? She peered closer.

Great StarClan, it’s Bluefur and the kits!

What could possibly be happening? Spottedpaw pictured the desperation in Bluefur’s eyes when she talked about her kits, and the decision she had to make. Should she tell Stormtail? He would take Bluefur straight back to the camp. Do I trust Bluefur enough to let her go? Spottedpaw had no doubt that Bluefur loved her kits. Whatever she’s doing, she won’t let any harm come to them.

In the shadows, Bluefur slipped and a twig cracked. Stormtail pricked his ears and began to turn around.

“What’s that?” Spottedpaw pointed with her tail to the other side of the ravine.

Stormtail jumped to his paws and stared into the bushes. “Where?”

Behind her, Spottedpaw heard a tiny rustling sound. Had Bluefur taken her kits out of sight yet? She didn’t dare to turn around.

“Just by that tall tree,” Spottedpaw mewed. She walked over to Stormtail and pretended to peer more closely. “I’m sure I saw something move there. Maybe a fox?”

“I’ll check it out,” Stormtail growled. He padded away, his pelt bristling along his spine.

Spottedpaw stayed where she was, watching Stormtail prowl into the undergrowth. She was desperate to follow Bluefur and find out where she was going, but she couldn’t risk Stormtail seeing her go up the ravine.

The warrior returned, his pelt ruffled from the brambles. “No trace of any scent,” he reported.

“I’m sure I saw something,” Spottedpaw persisted. “It was heading farther along the ravine. Why don’t you check that way, and I’ll go up to the top and see if I can spot anything?”

Stormtail nodded and headed back the way he had come. Spottedpaw raced up the path, her feet slipping in the snow. More flakes were falling, making Spottedpaw blink and shake her head. She strained to spot any signs of a trail in the darkness. Which way had they gone?

In the shelter of some brambles, she spotted a faint trail of paw prints, some large and some so tiny she could hardly make them out. It looked as if they had taken the path that led to Sunningrocks. Spottedpaw took a deep breath and started walking through the bracken, lifting each paw high out of the snow and shaking it to get some feeling into her toes. Ice clumped against her belly fur, and her ears stung with cold. I hope the kits are all right!

The night closed silently around her, and Spottedpaw wondered if she had lost them. She pushed her way into a clump of ferns, trying to find some shelter. Then she heard voices up ahead, low and urgent. Spottedpaw peeked through the stalks and made out two bulky shapes on the shore of the frozen river.

One of them turned toward her and she shrank back out of sight. This was Bluefur’s secret to keep. The larger shape started to make its way down the shore with a cluster of tiny shadows stumbling beside it. Spottedpaw gasped. Was Bluefur giving her kits away? Why would she do that?

She could think of only one reason: so that Bluefur could leave the nursery and take over as Clan deputy instead of Thistleclaw. This was a measure of how much she loved her Clanmates, and how much she feared Thistleclaw, even without seeing him in the Dark Forest.

Spottedpaw sighed. Thistleclaw has changed both our destinies, Bluefur. You will never realize how much you and I have in common.

“StarClan, please keep Bluefur’s kits safe. Let them grow bold and strong, and above all else, loved,” Spottedpaw prayed as she crouched among the bracken.

The air stirred around her and a warm, half-familiar scent drifted into her muzzle. Spottedpaw narrowed her eyes and saw the faintest white-furred shape slip through the stalks in front of her.

We will do our best, a voice breathed inside her mind. Thank you for trusting my sister, Spottedpaw.

“Snowfur?” Spottedpaw whispered. “Is that you?” But the ferns around her were still and silent, and the pale shape had vanished into the falling snow.

Bluefur and I will do our best, too, Spottedpaw vowed. I will never be foolish or blind again. Thistleclaw has shown me where my destiny truly lies. From now on, my heart belongs to my Clan.