Sandstorm was coughing. Lionblaze broke off from his work patching the elders’ den and glanced at her as she crouched with her shoulders hunched beneath Highledge. She’d been coughing last night, too.
Firestar leaped down the rocks and touched his mate’s head with his muzzle. “Are you okay?”
“Just swallowed a snowflake,” Sandstorm rasped.
Lionblaze pushed another pawful of leaves into a gap in the branches. Though it was sunhigh, the hollow was gray under a gray sky. More snow had fallen in the past days, weighing down the beech tree so that the freshly built walls creaked and buckled, sprouting holes and cracks. Lionblaze had been working all morning to fill them in and stop the icy drafts that sliced through the new dens. Toadstep and Birchfall had been bringing leaves into camp, their paws muddy where they’d dug through the snow to scrape them from the frozen forest floor.
Birchfall dropped another pile at Lionblaze’s paws. Toadstep paced behind him, trying to keep warm. “Do you need more?”
Both warriors were out of breath. Their pelts clung to their bones. Prey had been scarce for nearly half a moon, and the Clan was lucky to eat a few mouthfuls a day.
Lionblaze scooped up a pawful of frostbitten foliage. “If you can find more, I’ll be able to patch the back of the den, too.”
Birchfall nodded and led Toadstep back out of camp.
“Make sure you patch it up well!” Mousefur’s reedy mew sounded through the den wall. “I hardly slept last night, the den was so windy.”
Lionblaze purred. The fat water vole Ivypaw had brought back had restored Mousefur’s spirits. He scooped up another pawful of leaves and walked gingerly over the branches to the back of the den.
“Is Lionblaze in here?” Brambleclaw had stuck his head through the entrance.
“I’m in back.” Lionblaze dropped his leaves, jumped down to the ground, and hurried to meet the ThunderClan deputy. “What is it?”
Brambleclaw was shuffling backward out of the den. “I want you to lead a hunting patrol.”
Lionblaze wiped his leaf-clogged claws in the snow. “Great. Where?”
“In the woods near the WindClan border.”
Mousefur’s head appeared in the den entrance. “What about the drafts?”
Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Birchfall and Toadstep can finish the job.”
Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Is it wise to hunt near the border?” he ventured. “WindClan has been touchy about it since they started hunting there themselves.”
Brambleclaw snorted. “That’s precisely why we should make our presence felt. They’ve chased prey across the scent line before. We don’t want them to make a habit of it.”
“I guess not.” Lionblaze saw the sense in what the deputy was suggesting.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Brambleclaw went on. “But WindClan needs to know that ThunderClan is never far from the border line.”
Mousefur flexed her claws. “I don’t know why they couldn’t stick to hunting the moors like they did in the old days.” She turned and headed back into the warmth of the den, still grumbling. “WindClan hunting in woodland. What next? ShadowClan fishing in the lake?”
Brambleclaw waited for her to vanish inside. “Don’t look for trouble,” he told Lionblaze again. “But don’t hide from it either.”
Lionblaze fluffed out his pelt. “With any luck, we’ll catch a rabbit.” Rabbits sometimes strayed into the shelter of the forest when the weather hardened.
“A rabbit would be good.” Brambleclaw’s gaze strayed to the mouse and the scrawny robin that formed the fresh-kill pile. “Take Leafpool, Cinderheart, and Dovepaw,” he ordered.
Lionblaze’s heart sank. He’d been avoiding Cinderheart. Why had he told her his secret? Why had he believed she’d just accept it? Why couldn’t she just accept it? His tail twitched. I haven’t changed! I’ve always had this power. He glanced across the clearing. He knew Cinderheart was there, sharing tongues with Leafpool. He stiffened as she whispered in Leafpool’s ear. What if she told someone? Would she give his secret away?
No! Lionblaze pushed away the worry. Cinderheart hadn’t changed, either—he still trusted her. “Is Ivypaw coming?”
Brambleclaw shook his head. “Jayfeather says she’s still fighting the infection in her scratches. He wants her in camp till she’s recovered.”
Lionblaze headed toward Cinderheart and Leafpool. He called to Dovepaw as he passed the medicine den. She’d gone to keep Briarlight company. She nosed her way out of the brambles and ran to catch up to him. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly as he reached Cinderheart and Leafpool.
“We’re hunting beside the WindClan border.”
Leafpool got to her paws. “And checking WindClan hasn’t strayed over it, I presume?”
Cinderheart stretched, her pelt ruffled from washing. She twisted to smooth a clump of fur with her tongue.
“We may as well get going.” Lionblaze glanced at Leafpool, surprised to find that she met his gaze. She seemed more confident lately. She was quick to offer help to Jayfeather, unflinching whether he accepted or rejected her advice. And she was stronger on patrols, too, often the first to catch prey or to point out where a border scent had grown stale.
Lionblaze scowled. Was she a medicine cat or a warrior now? How should he treat her? He shifted his paws. Was she his mother or his mother’s sister? He knew she’d kitted him, but she hadn’t raised him. Squirrelflight had done that. At least she had when Clan duties hadn’t kept her from the nursery. He shrugged. Daisy and Ferncloud had so often been the queens to warm and wash him; they felt as much like his mother as Squirrelflight, and far more so than Leafpool.
“So?” Leafpool’s mew shook him from his thoughts. “Are we going or not?”
“We’re going.”
Dovepaw was yawning.
“Why are you so tired all the time?” Lionblaze flashed with irritation.
Dovepaw blinked at him. “Sorry.” She scampered away and followed Cinderheart out of the camp. As Leafpool headed after them, Lionblaze felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have snapped at Dovepaw. She was young. Perhaps her power was too strong for her.
He followed his patrol out of the camp. The smell of the forest pushed away his worries. Fresh snow had smoothed the trails and bushes. The woods looked untouched, and he plunged ahead of his Clanmates, giving in to the kitlike urge to be the first to spoil the soft snow. Cinderheart, Leafpool, and Dovepaw followed him in silence, their paw steps muffled.
As they neared the narrow stream that separated the territories, Lionblaze tasted the air, making sure that no WindClan cat had strayed over the scent line. The stream was hardly more than a frozen ditch filled with snow that left nothing except a dent in the forest floor, but the scent line was fresh, pungent with both WindClan and ThunderClan markers.
“Should I take Cinderheart and hunt up past the brambles?” Leafpool offered.
“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Cinderheart put in.
“Okay.” Lionblaze felt relieved. “Take Dovepaw, too.” She was yawning again. He’d be better off hunting alone.
As the patrol headed away, bounding past the brambles, Lionblaze sniffed a hawthorn bush on the edge of the ditch, hungry for signs of prey, watchful for WindClan scent.
Frosted snow cracked beyond the ditch, and Lionblaze jerked his head up. Breezepelt was snuffling his way along a trail of small paw prints. Crowfeather followed, ears pricked, fur bristling along his spine.
Lionblaze ducked lower behind the bush. They didn’t know he was there. Through the bare stems of the hawthorn, he watched the WindClan cats, skinny and shivering, as they followed the tracks. They weren’t even trying to keep low. Did they imagine they were hidden by heather here? Mouse-brains!
A shower of snow spattered from the branches overhead. The WindClan cats looked up, their eyes gleaming. Lionblaze could hear the flicker of feathers, and without looking he knew that a thrush was near. He opened his mouth and let the scent bathe his tongue. More snow dropped. Then the thrush fluttered down. It landed beside a larch cone and began to peck for bugs between the bracts. Crowfeather stiffened. Breezepelt tensed. Only their tail-tips twitched. The thrush carried on pecking.
Then Breezepelt leaped. His paws thrust snow out behind him. The thrush exploded into the air, squawking an alarm. Breezepelt shot after it, paws outstretched. He leaped into the air, batting the thrush with a deadly swipe. It bounced from his grasp and shot across the ditch.
Lionblaze sprang out to meet it and swatted at the thrush mid-flight. It fell to the ground, dead.
“Hey!” Breezepelt’s outraged mew shrieked across the ditch. “That was mine!”
“It’s on my territory.” Lionblaze crouched over his catch, his mouth watering. One less piece of fresh-kill for WindClan, one more for ThunderClan. He looked at Crowfeather, the cat who’d made Leafpool betray her Clan. Lionblaze would never admit that this cat was his father. Your WindClan son couldn’t even keep hold of his catch.
“I killed it.” Breezepelt’s growl sounded like a challenge.
“Are you sure?” Lionblaze lifted his chin and stared at the WindClan warrior. “Why don’t you come and fetch it, then?”
Breezepelt flicked his tail. In one jump, he had crossed the ditch and slammed into Lionblaze.
Lionblaze suddenly felt alive. His fur bushed up as he fell under the WindClan warrior’s weight. When Breezepelt’s claws tried to hook into his flesh, Lionblaze reared and shook him off like a fly. Then he turned and leaped on top of him, trapping him between his front paws.
“ThunderClan slime!” Breezepelt slithered out of his grip, swiping wildly with all four feet.
Lionblaze’s whiskers twitched. This was too easy. Swinging a paw, he thumped Breezepelt heavily across the cheek. The WindClan warrior staggered and fell, then heaved himself up. “That was my thrush,” he spat. With a lightning-fast swipe, he knocked Lionblaze’s hind paws from under him.
Lionblaze gasped, taken by surprise, and collapsed into the snow. He felt Breezepelt’s teeth land in his shoulder. Raging, Lionblaze thrashed like a fish on the slippery snow. Finding a paw hold, he heaved himself to his paws and thrust Breezepelt clear with another hefty blow. Blood spattered onto the snow like crimson rain.
“Stop it!”
Leafpool’s high-pitched shriek shattered the freezing air as she plunged through the bracken with Cinderheart and Dovepaw behind her. “How can you watch your sons fight?” she screeched at Crowfeather.
Before Crowfeather could reply, his mate, Nightcloud, stalked from the shadows beyond the border. Her black pelt matched Breezepelt’s, and her amber eyes glittered with the same venom. “He only has one son.” Hatred laced her hiss. “Crowfeather is Breezepelt’s father. No one else’s!”
Breezepelt crouched down. Lionblaze could see his muscles bunching beneath his pelt, ready for another attack.
“Stop!” Leafpool shot between them.
Breezepelt’s lunge hit her square in the side. His claws tore her pelt as he dragged her to the ground. Another jet of blood sprayed the snow. Lionblaze stared in shock. Before he could reach for Breezepelt, Crowfeather had crossed the ditch and hauled his son off Leafpool.
He tossed him aside like prey and leaned over Leafpool. “You chose your Clan, remember?” he hissed.
She stared up at him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.”
Crowfeather’s eyes flashed with pain. “Maybe you did,” he growled. “But it wasn’t enough, was it?”
“Get away from her!” Nightcloud had crossed the ditch. She sank her claws into Crowfeather’s pelt and dragged him away from Leafpool.
Crowfeather turned on his mate, hissing. Breezepelt darted between them with a wail of protest. Lionblaze felt sick. He’s my brother. How can I fight my brother?
Breezepelt faced his father, tail bushed, lips drawn back. “Leave my mother alone.” The thrush had been forgotten. This was about a different kind of blood now, the sort that flowed in a cat’s veins, binding him to another.
Lionblaze shook his head, making his ears flap. These cats aren’t my kin. A few paces away, Leafpool heaved herself to her paws. Lionblaze glared at her. It’s her fault. She made this mess. Yet her eyes were shot with grief, and he suddenly felt her pain as though it were his own. She has suffered more than any of us.
Crowfeather, growling, turned away from Breezepelt and jumped the ditch back onto WindClan territory. “Come on,” he snarled. “If ThunderClan is going to starve without that puny bird, let them have it.” Breezepelt slunk after him, leaving a thin trail of blood in the snow.
Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. He hadn’t felt a scratch. Should he stop fighting Clan cats? It’s cheating. Dovepaw’s words echoed in his mind. Perhaps he should save his powers for the Dark Forest warriors.
Nightcloud leaped the ditch, then paused and turned back. “Next time we’ll shred you!” she spat.
Dovepaw darted forward. “Breezepelt started it!”
“Hush.” Cinderheart guided her away from the border, murmuring to Lionblaze as she passed, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have fought him.”
Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “Why not?”
Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “Have you caught anything yet?” he asked his apprentice pointedly.
Dovepaw flicked her tail. “Not yet.”
“Then start hunting.” Lionblaze watched Dovepaw stamp away, then turned to Leafpool. “You should go back to the camp and get Jayfeather to look at your wounds,” he ordered. Leafpool dragged her gaze from the border and nodded.
Lionblaze waited till the two cats had disappeared past the brambles. “Why are you worried about a WindClan cat?” he hissed to Cinderheart.
“You could’ve really hurt him!”
Do you think I don’t know that? “I know what I’m doing!” he growled. “Stop treating me like a two-headed fox!”
Cinderheart stared at her paws. “Well, excuse me for not knowing how to handle this,” she muttered. “You’re the one who changed everything.”
Lionblaze stared at her. Tiredness swamped him like a black wave. “No,” he sighed. “This was all decided long before I was born.” He turned away. “Let’s hunt and go home. The Clan is hungry.”
Lionblaze stood back while Graystripe circled the fresh-kill pile, licking his lips. They’d brought back two rabbits, the thrush, and a grouse.
“We should hunt on the WindClan border more often,” the gray warrior purred.
Berrynose’s mouth fell open. “It looks like a pile again!”
Lionblaze stared across the clearing. The good day’s hunting hadn’t eased the pain in his heart. Cinderheart hadn’t even looked at him since they’d talked, and Leafpool had hardly spoken to anyone. He watched Sandstorm coughing. The ginger she-cat was crouched beside the halfrock with Firestar. Brightheart was with them. “She should see Jayfeather,” she meowed.
“Really, it’s just snowflakes,” Sandstorm insisted.
Brightheart circled her. “We’re all breathing in snowflakes,” she fretted. “You’re the only one coughing.”
Firestar sniffed her. “Perhaps Jayfeather should check you out.”
Brightheart nodded. “It sounds like whitecough.” Firestar flashed the one-eyed warrior a sharp look. Brightheart twitched her tail. “If it is whitecough, we need to know.”
Firestar leaned forward. “Keep your voice down!” Clearly he didn’t want the Clan worried.
“I’m going to fetch Jayfeather,” Brightheart decided. She hurried away to the medicine den.
“Well done, Lionblaze.” Brambleclaw sniffed the fresh-kill pile. “Poppyfrost should eat first, and the kits.”
“Briarlight will need some too,” Millie added.
Lionblaze rolled a rabbit distractedly with his paw. “There’ll be enough for everyone.”
Jayfeather was following Brightheart from his den. He stopped beside Sandstorm and leaned over her.
Lionblaze broke away from his Clanmates. “Is it whitecough?” he asked softly as he neared his brother.
“Shhh!” Jayfeather pressed his ear closer to Sandstorm’s flank. His tail quivered. “She’ll need rest.” He straightened. “And keep her warm.”
Brightheart shifted her paws. “So it is whitecough.”
“It may be.” Jayfeather touched Sandstorm’s ear with a pad. “I’ll see if there’s any feverfew left.”
Lionblaze sat down. It was early in leaf-bare for whitecough. What if it spread? A flash of tabby pelt caught his eye. Leafpool was hurrying toward her mother.
“Sandstorm, what’s wrong?” Leafpool bent to sniff Sandstorm’s breath and looked up at Jayfeather. “We need tansy. I’ll go and find some.”
“It’s getting late.” Firestar rested his tail on Leafpool’s spine. “Why not wait till morning?”
“And where are you going to find tansy?” Brightheart shook her head in despair. “We’ve been scouring the forest for days.”
“There’s some in your herb patch beside the Twoleg nest,” Lionblaze offered.
Jayfeather stiffened.
Leafpool shook off Firestar’s tail. “I’ll fetch it!”
“It’s too delicate,” Jayfeather snapped. “If we pick it now, it may kill off the roots, and we’ll lose the whole plant.”
Leafpool snapped her head around to stare at him. “And if we don’t, Sandstorm might get worse!”
“She’s strong,” Jayfeather countered. “She may not need tansy. I don’t want to risk it.”
“Risk what?” Leafpool challenged. “The tansy or Sandstorm’s life?”
Firestar stepped forward. “It hasn’t come to that yet.”
Jayfeather kept his blind gaze fixed on Leafpool. “I’ll decide when to use the tansy,” he growled. “I’m the medicine cat.”
Lionblaze tensed in the chilly silence. Snow creaked beneath his paws.
“Very well,” Leafpool meowed at last. “I’ll find some in the forest.” She turned and stalked away.
“Wait till the morning!” Firestar called.
Leafpool hesitated, then stalked to the warriors’ den and disappeared inside.
“Was there any sign of intruders on the border?”
“What?” Lionblaze looked up and saw Firestar staring at him. He’d forgotten to report the skirmish. “We met a WindClan patrol.”
Firestar’s eyes narrowed. “Did they cross the border?”
Lionblaze felt a rush of confusion. Yes, but only because he’d taunted his half brother. How would he explain that? “There was a small argument about a piece of prey that crossed the border,” he meowed at last. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Who won the prey?” Firestar asked.
“I did.”
Sandstorm started coughing again. Firestar wrapped his tail around his mate. “These disputes are bound to happen,” he meowed before turning his attention to Sandstorm.
If only it were that simple! Lionblaze closed his eyes. Today’s fight hadn’t been about prey, or hunger, or hunting rights. The tangling of relationships between the two Clans had caused the skirmish. It had poisoned feelings, not just between Clans but between Clanmates, weakening the Clan from within as cat turned against cat.
Perhaps Yellowfang was right. Perhaps each Clan should stand alone. When faced with such a treacherous enemy, they couldn’t risk letting anything distract them from the final battle.