Tallstar’s Revenge

Chapter 11

“When can we start using the tunnel?” Cloudrunner asked Hickorynose.

Tallpaw pricked his ears. Had the tunnelers dug all the way through to the gorge? The cats around him shifted to hear the answer. Above, the full moon turned their pelts silver as they waited to leave for the Gathering. Larksplash and Appledawn sat beside Reedfeather. Stagleap plucked at the grass while Doespring gazed dreamily at the stars. Hareflight and Shrewpaw practiced battle moves a few tail-lengths away. Tallpaw was quivering with anticipation, though he was trying to hide it. This would be his first visit to Fourtrees, his first meeting with the other three Clans.

Hickorynose paused before replying to Cloudrunner. “We need to shore up the walls and roof before it’s safe for moor runners,” he warned.

The pale gray tom’s fur pricked along his spine. “And you really think this is going to make a difference for us all?” Cloudrunner meowed.

“It’s a good route down to the gorge,” Heatherstar reminded him.

Reedfeather’s eyes flashed. “Quicker for getting to RiverClan territory.”

“Why would we want to go there?” Cloudrunner stared at his deputy.

Reedfeather shrugged. “There might be a war between the Clans.”

“The Clans haven’t been at war in moons,” Cloudrunner huffed.

“Maybe there are other reasons for needing to visit our neighbors,” Reedfeather meowed. He turned his gaze away. “War is not the only connection between us.”

Tallpaw impatiently kneaded the grass with his claws. Why was Reedfeather going on about visiting RiverClan? The only place outside the moor that they needed to reach was Fourtrees!

“Don’t worry; we’ll be leaving soon,” Dawnstripe promised.

“I’m not worried.” Tallpaw padded past her, avoiding her gaze. He knew he should feel excited about his first Gathering, but instead he felt nervous. His quarrel with Sandgorse yesterday had unsettled him. Why was his father so obsessed with him being a tunneler? How can I enjoy training to be a moor runner? Sandgorse makes me feel like a traitor.

Barkpaw hurried from the medicine den. “Hawkheart says I can come!” He glanced over his shoulder at the medicine cat, who was crossing the tussocks behind him.

Tallpaw lifted his tail in greeting as his friend reached him. “Is Shrewpaw coming too?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Barkpaw looked surprised.

“Shrewpaw doesn’t tell me anything.” Tallpaw had given up trying to be friends with his denmate.

“Why should I?” Shrewpaw paused from practicing battle moves. “You’re wasting your time and Dawnstripe’s by training as a moor runner. You’re a tunneler.”

“No, I’m not!” Tallpaw snapped.

“You will be one day.” Shrewpaw glanced meaningfully at the bracken patch. “Sandgorse will make sure of that.”

“Sandgorse respects what I want.” Tallpaw’s heart twisted. If only it were true.

“Of course he does,” Shrewpaw sneered.

“In the end, we all decide our own destinies,” came an unexpected voice.

Tallpaw spun around in surprise as he heard Hawkheart’s deep growl behind him. The medicine cat stalked past and settled beside Heatherstar.

Cloudrunner was still bickering with Hickorynose. “I don’t see why we need a route to the gorge.”

“You’ll appreciate it one day.” Hickorynose sounded weary from the long nights of digging.

Tallpaw had watched Heatherstar spend most of the day persuading him to attend the Gathering. “One of the tunnelers should come,” she’d insisted, sitting beside the bracken patch while Hickorynose and his tunnelmates finally got a chance to clean the clay from their paws. They’d opened the tunnel by moonhigh, just as Sandgorse had promised. But they spent till dawn safeguarding against cave-ins and mudslides, and returned to camp more anxious than exhilarated.

“The whole Clan should be represented.” Heatherstar had challenged one tunneler, then the next, until finally Hickorynose had looked up.

“What does it matter?” he’d grunted. “The other Clans don’t know a tunneler from a moor runner.”

Plumclaw sniffed. “Tunnelers don’t need to share gossip with the other Clans.”

Heatherstar had bristled. “The Gatherings aren’t for sharing gossip,” she’d snapped. “They keep harmony between the Clans.”

“Harmony!” Woollytail had snorted. “The Clans are just there to spy on one another.” He’d returned to washing, tugging grit from between his claws.

“Well?” Heatherstar glared at the tunnelers, her tail flicking. “Who’s coming to the Gathering?”

Hickorynose sighed. “I will.”

Heatherstar had nodded. “Then you’d better get some rest.”

Now, in the moonlight, Tallpaw thought Hickorynose still looked tired despite his sleep. He yawned as Cloudrunner complained to Stagleap.

“The gorge tunnel will be as steep as a cliff,” the pale gray moor runner fretted. “You won’t get me down it.”

Stagleap shrugged. “Tallpaw said it’s not that steep.”

“He says they dug the slope long and shallow,” added Doespring.

“Yes, it’s not too bad,” Tallpaw meowed.

Cloudrunner turned and stared at Tallpaw. “You’ve been down it?”

“He helped dig it out,” Stagleap announced.

Tallpaw shifted his paws uncomfortably as he remembered how terrified he’d been with the river roaring at his tail like an angry swarm of bees. And Sandgorse still wanted him to be a tunneler. Just because it’s right for him doesn’t make it right for me!

“Ready?” Dawnstripe’s mew surprised him.

“Ready?” Tallpaw echoed, lost in his own thoughts.

Dawnstripe rolled her eyes. “The Gathering, remember?”

Heatherstar was already heading out of the camp.

“Of course I remember!” Tallpaw glanced at the bracken patch. Was Sandgorse watching him leave for his first Gathering? He scanned the nests for eyes flashing in the darkness, but there was no sign of any cats looking at him. Tallpaw glanced at the nursery, relieved to see Palebird sliding out of the gorse.

She nodded to him. “Good luck, Tallpaw.”

“Good luck, Tallpaw,” Shrewpaw mimicked.

Barkpaw growled at his brother. “Leave him alone. It’s his first Gathering!”

“Poor little Wormpaw has to go without his mother.”

Tallpaw unsheathed his claws.

“Come on.” Dawnstripe nosed her apprentice away from his denmate.

Growling under his breath, Tallpaw followed Stagleap through the heather. Doespring met him on the grass clearing outside camp, Ryestalk at her side. “Are you excited?” Her amber eyes were bright. It was her first Gathering as a warrior.

Tallpaw shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Ryestalk followed Cloudrunner and Hareflight across the grass. “It’ll be great!” she called, disappearing into the heather.

Hawkheart shadowed Whiteberry and Flamepelt, his sharp gaze flicking over the elders. “You should be resting in your nest, Whiteberry,” he muttered.

“I’m not letting a few aching joints keep me away from a Gathering,” Whiteberry rasped.

“I gave him the heather blossom we gathered.” Barkpaw trotted after his mentor.

Hawkheart’s gaze narrowed. “How much?”

“Half a pawful, soaked in water. Like you showed me.”

Hawkheart nodded. “Well done.” His gaze flicked back to Whiteberry. “Has it helped?”

“I was fine before.” Whiteberry limped along the trail after his Clanmates. “Don’t waste your herbs on me.”

“Poor Barkpaw.” Shrewpaw stopped beside Doespring. “Imagine spending your life listening to elders complain.”

“He’s had plenty of practice, growing up in a nest with you,” Doespring meowed sharply. Shrewpaw scowled at her and trotted ahead to catch up to Barkpaw.

Stagleap ripped at the grass. “Hurry up, Tallpaw!” Beyond him, the heather rippled as WindClan moved though it.

“What’s Fourtrees like?” Tallpaw meowed.

“Weird.” Stagleap shouldered his way through the bushes.

Tallpaw slid after him, following the trail. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Doespring was pushing at Tallpaw’s heels. “Should we race?”

“No thanks.” Tallpaw wasn’t in the mood for running.

Stagleap glanced back, his eyes flashing in the darkness. “I’ll race you!”

Tallpaw leaned aside to let Doespring pass. “See you there!” she called as she broke into a run. The two warriors hared away, their paws thrumming the ground. Tallpaw trudged after them, following their scent through the heather.

Paw steps sounded behind him. “I thought you loved racing?” Dawnstripe had caught up to him.

“I don’t feel like it,” Tallpaw murmured.

Dawnstripe walked in silence for a few moments. “What’s the matter?” she asked at last.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been in a bad mood since you went tunneling yesterday.”

“So?”

“So, you hardly heard a word I said in training today,” she persisted. “You didn’t even try to outstalk Shrewpaw, and your hunting stance was the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be a moor runner.” Tallpaw let gloom swamp him.

“Don’t be silly.” Dawnstripe was brisk. “You’re the best runner I’ve seen. Now, tell me what happened in the tunnels that upset you. Is it Sandgorse?”

Tallpaw sighed. “He didn’t even see me off to my first Gathering.”

“It’s going to take Sandgorse time to accept that you want to be a moor runner,” Dawnstripe told him. “No cat can change his feelings overnight.”

“Doesn’t he want what’s best for me?” Tallpaw asked crossly.

“Of course he does,” Dawnstripe meowed. “But he still thinks being a tunneler is best for you.”

“Is he right?” Tallpaw’s belly tightened.

“Do you want to train as a tunneler?” Dawnstripe prompted.

“No!” The word burst from Tallpaw before he had a chance to think. “Never! I don’t want to spend my life in the dark with soil in my fur and mud in my claws!”

“Okay.” Dawnstripe padded steadily beside him. “So you’re going to have to put up with Sandgorse’s disappointment. You can’t change the way he feels. The only thing you can change is how you feel.”

“I feel bad.”

“But not bad enough to become a tunneler just to please Sandgorse.”

“I guess not.” Tallpaw followed the trail as it wound out from the heather. Moonlight shone on the slope ahead.

Dawnstripe kept pace with him, her long strides carrying her easily over the flattened grass. “Then let Sandgorse sulk if he wants to, and concentrate on becoming the best moor runner you can be. Your Clan needs good warriors, and I think you can become one of the best.”

Tallpaw glanced at his mentor. “Really?”

Paw steps thrummed toward them. “Come on!” Stagleap slowed to a halt in front of them. “I’ve already beaten Doespring to the top of the hollow.”

Doespring charged up behind him. “You did not!”

“Okay,” Stagleap conceded. “You were a whisker ahead.” He blinked at Tallpaw. “Heatherstar and the others are waiting for you to join them before they go down. Hawkheart’s getting restless.”

Dawnstripe bounded forward. “Quick, Tallpaw. It’s your first Gathering. Enjoy it!” She hared away over the grass with Stagleap and Doespring on her tail.

Tallpaw raced after. He caught up to his Clanmates at the top of a steep slope. Ahead, treetops swished in the moonlight. The air was thick with the taste of earth and thick, damp foliage. Fourtrees.

“You took your time,” Hawkheart growled.

“Sorry.” Tallpaw peered into the trees, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The ground sloped steeply away beneath his paws, and through gaps between the trunks, he could make out a clearing filled with moonlight.

“Let’s go.” Heatherstar flicked her tail and the WindClan warriors streamed down the slope.

Tallpaw bounded after them, feeling the soft grass give way to crumbly earth. Ferns swished against his pelt and brambles twitched as he hopped over their trailing branches. As he reached the foot of the slope, he slowed to a stop. Four gigantic oaks stood in the center of the hollow, their trunks thicker than Tallrock back in the WindClan camp. Above his head, branches creaked. Tallpaw pressed his ears flat, unnerved by the noise. Even when the wind howled across the moor, the heather only whispered in reply. The bark of the trees glowed silver, and the canopy of leaves blocked out the sky until the wind tugged at them, revealing glimpses of stars.

“We’re the first!” Doespring stopped beside him. “Look!” Her mew echoed around the walls of the hollow. “It’s the Great Rock.”

Tallpaw followed her gaze, his heart quickening as he saw the stone looming palely in the shadows, bigger than any boulder on the moor. As the branches moved overhead, moonlight dappled the rock. Tallpaw tensed as he felt the ground tremble. Was the Great Rock alive?

“Someone’s coming!” called a voice behind him.

Doespring tasted the air. “It’s ThunderClan.”

As she spoke, dark shapes bounded down the far slope. Their paw steps set the earth shaking as they spilled into the hollow. Tallpaw backed away. He’d never seen such huge cats, wide-shouldered and stocky with long fur and sharp claws that glinted at the ends of their toes.

“Greetings, Heatherstar.” A fox-furred tom, his muzzle crisscrossed with old scars, dipped his head to the WindClan leader.

“It’s good to see you, Pinestar,” Heatherstar responded politely, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“Hawkheart! Any news this moon?” A ragged gray tom shambled toward the WindClan medicine cat.

“That’s Goosefeather,” Doespring whispered to Tallpaw. “He’s ThunderClan’s medicine cat.”

Tallpaw heard a purr in his other ear. “Goosefeather talks to himself,” Stagleap whispered. “The ThunderClan apprentices told me that he walks in the woods chatting to the trees and the squirrels.”

Doespring snorted with amusement.

“Hello, Goosefeather.” Hawkheart welcomed his fellow medicine cat.

Barkpaw stood beside his mentor and nodded, looking overawed.

“Have you killed anyone recently, you old herb-muddler?” Hawkheart joked.

Goosefeather snorted. “Not on purpose.”

Tallpaw’s eyes widened as he watched ThunderClan warriors weave among the WindClan cats, exchanging greetings like old friends. “Is it okay to talk to the other Clans?”

“So long as clouds don’t cross the moon,” Doespring reminded him. “If they do, StarClan is warning us that the truce is over.”

“Be careful what you say,” Stagleap added. “If you say too much, you might give away WindClan secrets. If you say too little, the other Clans will accuse you of being hostile.”

Tallpaw swallowed. “How will I know if I get it right?”

“Just listen and be polite,” Doespring advised. “If you talk to the apprentices, don’t say more than you need to. If they talk about training, join in, but don’t share WindClan battle moves.”

“Here comes ShadowClan!” Stagleap’s hiss made Tallpaw stiffen.

The bushes on the slope stayed almost silent as shadows moved between them. Tallpaw’s pelt pricked. These cats hardly rippled a leaf as they slunk into the hollow, silent as prey. Tallpaw wrinkled his nose. ShadowClan brought with them a stench of pinesap and dank moss. “Do they always smell like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Stagleap promised. “They probably think we smell odd.”

Tallpaw lifted his chin. “No one could find the scent of the wind odd.”

Doespring shrugged. “Maybe they do. Perhaps that’s why they hide in the forest.”

“That’s Cedarstar.” Stagleap pointed his muzzle at a dark gray tom. The ShadowClan leader’s white belly flashed beneath him as he joined Heatherstar and Pinestar at the foot of the Great Rock.

Tallpaw watched a gray tabby approach Reedfeather. “Is that Stonetooth?” he asked, half recognizing the cat from one of Flailfoot’s stories.

“Yes. He’s been ShadowClan’s deputy for so long, only the elders remember who came before him,” Doespring meowed.

“And there’s Sunfall.” Stagleap nodded toward a golden tabby. ThunderClan’s deputy was pacing around the clearing, dipping his head to warriors, sharing words with one group before moving on to the next.

Whiteberry limped across the clearing and touched muzzles with a small ginger she-cat. “Littlebird.” His eyes flashed with mischief. “You haven’t missed a Gathering in moons. Come to gossip, eh?”

“Of course.” She swept her tail over her paws as she sat down.

A graying ThunderClan tom hurried to join them. “How’s hunting?” he asked as he reached them.

“Not bad, Mumblefoot,” Whiteberry rasped. “Though with only two apprentices, it’s a long wait for fresh prey to arrive.”

Littlebird snorted. “You should go out and hunt your own.”

“If only!” Whiteberry sighed. “My legs are too slow.”

“Your claws are still sharp,” Littlebird countered.

Tallpaw’s ears pricked as Shrewpaw’s mew sounded from below one of the oak trees. “Of course, I’m the fastest apprentice.” Three apprentices were gathered around the dark brown tom, their eyes round. “And there’s no cat faster than a WindClan cat.”

A white ShadowClan apprentice lashed his tail. “Any cat could run fast on the moor. You’ve got the wind at your tail and no trees to get in your way.”

“You think it’s easy living on the moors, Blizzardpaw?” Shrewpaw flattened his ears.

A silver-furred she-cat with pale blue eyes stared at him. “WindClan cats think they’re so special.”

“That’s because we are.” Shrewpaw stuck his nose in the air.

“You’re as puffed up as the sheep that live on your dumb moor.” The silver apprentice lashed her tail.

“Moonpaw.” A sleek gray ThunderClan tom hurried over to her. “Don’t forget the truce.”

“But Shrewpaw’s showing off!” Moonpaw protested. “All WindClan cats are show-offs.”

Tallpaw noticed Hawkheart’s head turn toward the squabbling apprentices. “Stormtail!” he called to the gray ThunderClan tom beside Moonpaw. “Can’t ThunderClan keep its ’paws under control?”

Moonpaw’s gaze flashed toward the WindClan medicine cat. “Don’t worry,” she growled. “I won’t break the truce.” As she stalked away, Stormtail hurried after her, throwing an apologetic look at Hawkheart.

Tallpaw suddenly realized that his heart was racing. The rustling leaves and the babbling voices made his ears twitch. Words were tossed back and forth like prey between paws. How would he ever learn the names of all the cats in other Clans? Would he ever know what to say? Could he ever feel at ease here, trapped beneath trees?

“Look, Doespring!” Stagleap’s mew surprised him. “There’s Nettlepaw!” He jerked his nose toward a white ShadowClan she-cat with ginger patches. “Let’s find out if she passed her assessment!”

Tallpaw stared as they raced away across the clearing. He glanced around, feeling suddenly exposed. Should he follow them? Or join Shrewpaw with the other apprentices? Uncertain, he dropped into a crouch and watched the Clans blend together in a haze of pelts. Where’s RiverClan? Tallpaw dug his claws into the earth, feeling for vibrations, but the pattering of paws in the clearing blotted out distant tremors. He tasted the air. A tang that tasted of rancid water was drifting into the hollow.

“Sorry we’re late!” A huge tom bounded down between brambles and crossed the clearing to Heatherstar. His fur shone in the dappled moonlight, so thick that Tallpaw could only guess at the sturdy muscle moving beneath. That must be Hailstar. Tallpaw watched the RiverClan leader’s Clanmates stream into the hollow. They slid as easily as fish among the other Clan cats until the clearing was teeming with bodies. Tallpaw glanced up, wishing he could see wide-open sky. But he was underneath one of the Great Oaks, and branches blocked his view. It’s like being underground. His tail twitched nervously.

A familiar scent wafted over him as a pelt brushed his flank. “You’ll get used to it.” Cloudrunner nudged him. “Next time won’t seem so strange.”

Tallpaw straightened up. “How can any cat live under trees?”

Cloudrunner shrugged. “I guess a cat can get used to anything.”

Pale fur moved at the side of the Great Rock. Heatherstar was jumping to the top with Cedarstar, Pinestar, and Hailstar close behind.

“Follow me.” Cloudrunner headed into the crowd.

Tallpaw kept close to the pale gray warrior, his whiskers brushing pelts as they weaved between the Clans. He flattened his ears, trying not to breathe too deeply amid the jumble of scents. He pretended he was moving through heather, relieved when Cloudrunner stopped beside Stagleap and Doespring.

Tallpaw nosed in beside Stagleap. “Can I sit here?” he whispered.

“Of course.” Stagleap shifted to give him room.

Doespring leaned around her brother and blinked at Tallpaw. “Can you see from there?”

“Just about.” As Cloudrunner squeezed in behind him, Tallpaw stretched to peer over the heads of Hareflight, Shrewpaw, and Appledawn, who were lined up like stones in front of him, their eyes lifted toward the Great Rock. Larksplash, Ryestalk, and Dawnstripe flanked them while Hickorynose wheezed as he settled down behind.

Cedarstar stepped forward and spoke first. “ShadowClan is well,” he declared. Tallpaw watched his amber eyes glint in the moonlight as he scanned the Gathering. “Our nursery is full.” The ShadowClan leader’s gaze warmed. “Three new kits have been born to Silverflame.”

Tallpaw noticed the ShadowClan cats around him exchange knowing, worried glances. Was there a secret behind this good news?

“Prey is plentiful in the forest and greenleaf has been kind.” Cedarstar stepped back and nodded to Pinestar.

As the ThunderClan leader began to speak, his Clanmates shifted below, fluffing out their fur. Why are they so pleased with themselves? Tallpaw wondered. They lived in a forest, hiding like prey among the trees. No Clan lived like WindClan, on top of the whole world, close to the sky with their tails in the wind.

“Greenleaf has been kind to ThunderClan, too,” Pinestar meowed. “The woods are prey-rich. StarClan blesses us this moon.” His gaze darkened. “There have been dogs in the forest, but our patrols have driven them back into Twoleg territory.”

Stagleap leaned close to Tallpaw. “Perhaps I should offer to scent mark their borders for them,” he whispered. “That would scare the dogs away.”

“Hush,” Dawnstripe hissed. Stagleap sniffed and turned his gaze back to the Great Rock.

Hailstar had stepped forward. “The newleaf rains have fed the river, bringing more fish this greenleaf than RiverClan can eat.”

“Don’t the other Clans ever go hungry?” Tallpaw whispered.

Cloudrunner’s breath touched his ear. “That’s what they want you to think,” he muttered. “No Clan would admit to hunger.” He nodded toward two burly ThunderClan warriors. “Look at the scars on their muzzles. They’ve hardly had time to heal.”

Tallpaw peered through the half-light. Cloudrunner was right. The warriors’ noses carried the mark of fresh injuries.

“It looks like those dogs put up a fight before they were chased back to Twoleg territory,” Cloudrunner commented. “Pinestar didn’t mention that.”

Heatherstar was taking her place at the front of the Great Rock. “Prey is running well on the moor. Stagleap, Doespring, and Ryestalk have become warriors. And we have a new apprentice.” Tallpaw froze as her gaze locked with his. “Tallpaw!” Heatherstar called proudly.

“Tallpaw!”

“Tallpaw!”

“Tallpaw!”

Around him cats raised their voices, calling his name. Tallpaw shrank beneath his fur. No one had warned him about this! Eyes glowed warmly as they fixed on him. Tallpaw tried to sit up straight, forcing his ears not to flatten as his name rang around the hollow.

He sagged with relief when they fell silent and Heatherstar spoke again. “The nursery is empty, though with StarClan’s blessing, not for long. The long, warm days have brought health and full bellies to WindClan. Soon it will bring kits to make WindClan even stronger.” Tallpaw leaned forward, waiting for her to announce WindClan’s greatest achievement: the tunnel leading to the gorge. But the WindClan leader stepped back, nodding to the other Clan leaders.

In the hollow, the cats stood up and began to move, breaking rank and clustering into groups.

“Is that it?” Tallpaw blinked up at the Great Rock. “Isn’t Heatherstar going to mention the tunnel?”

Stagleap stared at him. “Why should she? It’s just a tunnel. The other Clans wouldn’t understand.”

“We never tell them about our tunnels.” Ryestalk flicked her tail.

Doespring stood up and shook out her pelt. “They’d think we’d turned into rabbits.”

Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. Surely news about the latest tunnel would just prove WindClan’s strength? Why keep it a secret, if the aim of a Gathering was to make the other Clans think WindClan was as strong as they could possibly be?

Cloudrunner brushed past him. “The tunnels give us tactical advantage,” he murmured. “It’s best we don’t share news about them with the other Clans.”

Tallpaw turned and dipped his head to Hickorynose, hoping the old tunneler understood that he appreciated the tunnel. But Hickorynose was shouldering his way through the crowd, gaze low, heading for an empty slope where he stopped and sat apart from all the other cats.

“Come on.” Stagleap nudged Tallpaw with his muzzle. “Meet Shimmerpelt.”

“Shimmerpelt?”

Doespring rolled her eyes. “She’s in RiverClan. Stagleap’s got a massive crush on her.”

“But I thought that was forbidden.” Tallpaw was confused.

“It’s forbidden to take a mate from a different Clan,” Stagleap meowed breezily. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to them.” He padded away, Doespring at his heels.

“I’ll stay here,” Tallpaw called after them. He just wanted to watch for now. He gazed around the clearing, surprised to see the Clans at ease, sharing tongues as though there were no borders anywhere in the forest. Heatherstar and Pinestar talked in low murmurs, their heads close. Dawnstripe and Appledawn purred loudly as two ThunderClan toms demonstrated comical battle moves, fighting more like hares than warriors. At the edge of the clearing, Reedfeather sat close to a RiverClan she-cat. His tail whisked against her soft, pale brown flank as he talked, and Tallpaw was surprised by the warmth in Reedfeather’s gaze. When the RiverClan she-cat got to her paws and padded toward the edge of the clearing, Reedfeather followed.

“Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe’s call caught his attention.

He turned. His mentor was at the far side of the clearing, beckoning him with her tail. He hurried toward her and she nodded to a dark gray tom, who smelled of sap. “This is Frogpaw of ShadowClan.” She glanced past him. “And his sisters are over there.” Tallpaw followed her gaze toward a mottled she-cat and her pale gray littermate.

Frogpaw sniffed. “They’re called Newtpaw and Ashpaw.”

“I thought you might like to meet some apprentices from another Clan,” Dawnstripe told him. “They are our neighbors, after all.”

Tallpaw twitched an ear. “I guess.”

“How long have you been training?” Frogpaw asked.

“Just a moon.” Tallpaw didn’t like the way the young tom was eyeing him—like a hunter assessing prey.

“Who’s this?” Newtpaw nosed past her brother.

“He’s the new WindClan apprentice.” Ashpaw poked her muzzle close and sniffed. “He smells like heather.”

Tallpaw glared at her. And you smell like nettles.

“WindClan!” Heatherstar called from the slope. “The rabbits will start running early. We should return to camp and sleep while we can.”

Tallpaw felt a ripple of relief. He wasn’t going to have to share tongues with these stinky cats.

“Why did you introduce me to them?” he hissed to Dawnstripe as he ran after her. Around him, his Clanmates streamed up the slope toward the moor.

“Know your enemy,” Dawnstripe told him. “If you meet them in battle, you’ll recognize their scent and their strength.”

“Will I?” Tallpaw wasn’t convinced he’d be able to tell the three apprentices apart from their smelly Clanmates.

“What did you think of Frogpaw?” Dawnstripe pressed.

“He looked at me as if he was trying to work out how strong I was.”

“And Ashpaw?”

“She’s not shy.” Tallpaw felt a prickle of irritation. She’d sniffed him like she was checking stale scent. “Nor is her sister.”

“You have a sense of them, then.” Dawnstripe pushed through a patch of ferns.

Tallpaw followed in her paw steps, the fronds whisking his flanks. “I guess.”

“When battle comes, it will help, I promise.”

Tallpaw didn’t answer. How could knowing that the three young ShadowClan cats were bad-mannered and pushy help him in fight? Suddenly he felt bone-weary. By the time he reached the top of the slope, his paws ached. He was usually fast asleep in his nest by now. He followed Dawnstripe across the grass, comforted as the scent of peat and heather flooded his nose. He glanced up at the sky, relieved to be in the open. Moonlight shone on the pelts of his Clanmates as they crossed the moor ahead of him.

By the time they reached camp, he was yawning. “I’m so tired.”

“Hush,” Dawnstripe cautioned him. “The Clan will be sleeping.”

“Lucky Clan,” he muttered.

Dawnstripe stopped suddenly, her pelt bushing.

“What is it?” Tallpaw hissed.

Dawnstripe was staring at the walls of the camp. Heatherstar stood frozen outside the entrance while her Clanmates paused around her, their ears pricking.

Voices sounded from inside.

“They’re here!” Larksplash was the first to move. She raced toward the entrance, ducking past her leader and plunging into the heather. “The visitors! They’ve come at last!”