Twilight

Chapter 11

Squirrelflight stopped underneath a tree and listened. The woods were silent except for the wind rustling in the trees. When she tasted the air, the scents were faint; the cold weather must have sent all the prey deep into their holes. Shrugging, she padded on, letting her paws decide where to take her.

She hadn’t left the camp intending to hunt. She had set out with Ashfur and Birchpaw on the way to the mossy clearing Brightheart had discovered. But when they emerged from the thorn tunnel they met Brambleclaw on his way back from a training session with Spiderleg and Rainwhisker.

“Where are you going?” he asked Squirrelflight, gesturing for the two younger warriors to go on without him.

“Ashfur’s going to teach Birchpaw some fighting moves,” Squirrelflight meowed, ignoring the tabby warrior’s aggressive tone. “I thought I’d go along and help.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Brambleclaw snapped. “Ashfur is Birchpaw’s mentor, not you. If you’re looking for something to do, the elders need their pelts checked for ticks.”

Squirrelflight drew her lips back in the beginning of a snarl. “Don’t order me around!”

“Then stop being so irresponsible,” Brambleclaw retorted.

“There’s still a lot to do.” He flicked his tail angrily and vanished into the tunnel.

“We’d better go by ourselves,” Ashfur meowed. He glanced at Birchpaw, who had listened to the exchange with wide, scared eyes. “There’s no point making trouble.”

“It’s Brambleclaw who’s making all the trouble,” Squirrelflight pointed out, although she had to admit that Ashfur might be right. Back in their old home, mentors and apprentices had usually trained alone. “I’ll see you later. But I’m not checking the elders for ticks,” she added, as Ashfur and Birchpaw headed for the clearing. “I’m not letting Brambleclaw think he can tell me what to do.”

As she bounded away from the camp, Brambleclaw’s actions started to make more sense. He must be jealous of Ashfur because he had been chosen to mentor Birchpaw. And maybe because I’m spending time with Ashfur instead of him, she realized. But he made it perfectly clear how he felt about me, so he has no right to act like a bee-stung badger!

She had decided to hunt for a while and take back a decent contribution to the fresh-kill pile. She wouldn’t give Brambleclaw the satisfaction of telling her off yet again for neglecting her warrior duties.

Suddenly she was flooded with the reek of ShadowClan.

Her wanderings had taken her close to the border, not far from the dead tree. A heartbeat later she heard a fierce snarling, followed by the screech of a fighting cat. She froze.

Had she crossed the border by mistake?

In front of her, a few tail-lengths on the ShadowClan side, a clump of bracken started waving madly, and two cats locked in a yowling knot of fur crashed into the open. One was Tawnypelt; the other was the huge black and white tomcat from the Twoleg nest in ShadowClan’s territory.

Squirrelflight heard a shriek of pain from Tawnypelt as the kittypet fastened his teeth in her throat. She couldn’t stand by and watch her friend and former Clanmate get killed. She streaked across the border and flung herself on top of the tomcat.

“Let her go!”

She raked her claws down his side and as he tried to writhe away she bit down hard on his tail. He let out a yowl of mingled pain and fury, and Tawnypelt pulled free from him, whirling around to aim her claws at his ear. The kittypet rolled over, battering at both she-cats with his powerful hindlegs, then leapt to his paws and raced off into the trees.

Squirrelflight scrambled up and watched him until he was out of sight; a moment later Tawnypelt joined her and stood panting hard.

“Thanks,” she gasped. “He jumped me when I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

There was a haunted look in Tawnypelt’s eyes and her gaze darted warily from side to side as if she expected to find an enemy behind every tree. Squirrelflight was close enough to catch the fear scent coming from her friend. She couldn’t understand it; Tawnypelt was a brave warrior, and in her own territory. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Alarm flared briefly in Tawnypelt’s eyes, then she shook her head. “Nothing we can’t deal with.”

“Yeah, and hedgehogs can fly,” Squirrelflight retorted.

“Come on, Tawnypelt, I can see something’s upsetting you. It can’t surely be that mangy brute.”

“Leave it, will you, Squirrelflight?” Tawnypelt snarled.

“You shouldn’t even be here. Consider yourself lucky a patrol hasn’t caught you already.” She spun around and bounded away, deeper into ShadowClan territory.

Her pelt prickling with anxiety, Squirrelflight checked that no cats were in sight, then she ran after her friend.

“Tawnypelt, wait!”

Tawnypelt skidded to a halt in the shadow of a pine tree.

“Squirrelflight, you mousebrain!” she hissed. “Go back! If a patrol catches you here they’ll claw your ears off, and I’ll be in just as much trouble for letting you get this far.”

Squirrelflight ignored her. Scanning her closely, she saw how thin her friend looked, her ribs showing like branches and her pelt rough. She looked exhausted from more than the recent fight. “I’m not going back,” Squirrelflight mewed stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Tawnypelt sighed. “You never give up, do you?” She crept backward into the shelter of the pine tree until its low-growing branches screened them from passing patrols.

Squirrelflight gave her a comforting lick around the ears.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“You know where that black and white tom comes from?”

Tawnypelt began. “The Twoleg nest in our territory? There’s another kittypet there too—a tabby.”

Squirrelflight’s tail curled up. “Did you think I’d forgotten? They nearly clawed my fur off!” And I wouldn’t have got away if Brambleclaw hadn’t helped me, she added to herself.

“Well, ShadowClan are having some trouble with them,” Tawnypelt explained reluctantly.

“Trouble with kittypets? ShadowClan?” Squirrelflight echoed. “You’re telling me a whole Clan of warriors can’t deal with a couple of kittypets?”

“It’s not funny,” Tawnypelt snapped. “Yesterday they caught Talonpaw out on his own. They attacked him and left him wounded. He managed to drag himself back to camp, but he died.” She stared down at her paws.

“Oh, Tawnypelt, I’m sorry!”

Tawnypelt went on, her voice dull as if she was too exhausted to share Squirrelflight’s horror. “Rowanclaw, who was Talonpaw’s mentor, led a patrol to take revenge. But as soon as the kittypets saw them they fled back into the nest.

Their Twolegs threw hard things at the patrol, and Cedarheart’s leg was badly injured.” Tawnypelt curled her lip.

“Those kittypets are cowards. They only come after cats who are weak, or alone.”

Squirrelflight pressed her muzzle against Tawnypelt’s side.

“ThunderClan will help,” she promised. “I’ll go and tell Firestar right away.”

Tawnypelt stared at her. “Don’t be a mousebrain. This is ShadowClan’s problem.”

“So? We can’t let you be picked off one by one without doing something.”

Tawnypelt lifted her head, grief giving way to defiance.

“Are you saying that my Clan isn’t strong enough to solve our own problems?”

“Oh, you’ll sort them out in the end,” Squirrelflight agreed. “But how many more cats will die or be injured in the meantime? What’s wrong with both Clans putting our heads together and coming up with a plan to teach the mangy brutes a lesson once and for all? You’re worse than stupid if you turn down help when it’s offered.”

For a heartbeat Tawnypelt’s eyes blazed and Squirrelflight only just stopped herself from flinching away as she remembered what a formidable fighter her friend was. Then the tortoiseshell warrior let her fur lie flat again. “That’s for Blackstar to decide,” she meowed.

Squirrelflight gave her ear a last reassuring lick. “I’ll come straight back,” she promised.

Not caring if any cat from either Clan saw her, she raced for the border and back toward the ThunderClan camp.

ThunderClan had to help! They hadn’t come this far to watch another Clan be driven out by a couple of kittypets.

When she came in sight of the barrier of thorns she slowed down, getting her breath back so she could tell Firestar exactly what was going on. To her relief her father was one of the first cats she saw when she pushed her way through the tunnel. He was crouched near the fresh-kill pile, sharing a vole with Sandstorm. Dustpelt and Ashfur sat close by, talking with their heads close together. A few tail-lengths away, Brambleclaw was eating alone, devouring a wood pigeon with swift, hungry bites.

Squirrelflight raced over. “I’ve just seen Tawnypelt.” She reported what the ShadowClan warrior had told her.

“They’re being terrorized by those two bits of fox dung,” she finished breathlessly. “I told Tawnypelt we’d come and help.”

“You’d no business telling her any such thing,” Dustpelt growled.

Squirrelflight bristled, but Firestar gestured with his tail for her to keep silent. “It’s true each Clan should fend for themselves,” he agreed. “That’s part of the warrior code. But how far would we have gotten if we’d tried to follow the code when the Twolegs were tearing up the forest? Their monsters would have killed us all.”

“Then you’ll let us help?” Squirrelflight asked eagerly.

“Don’t forget I spotted that tabby brute on our territory first.

We could have trouble with them ourselves if we don’t do something to stop them.”

“I’ll go.”

Squirrelflight jumped when Brambleclaw spoke behind her. She hadn’t noticed that he had come over to listen.

Firestar twitched his ears at the tabby warrior. “I haven’t said yet that any cat is going.”

“I’m not sure we should,” Dustpelt meowed. “We’re still recovering from the journey, one of our medicine cats is already away helping another Clan… You can’t take every cat’s troubles on your shoulders, Firestar.”

“No, but we can try,” Sandstorm pointed out, giving him a long gaze from her pale green eyes. “An apprentice was killed, Squirrelflight says. What if that had been Birchpaw?”

The question silenced Dustpelt.

“Then you’ll send a patrol?” Brambleclaw prompted.

“Tawnypelt’s my sister. I’d fight StarClan for her, never mind a couple of kittypets.”

“So would I,” Squirrelflight added. “We journeyed with Tawnypelt. We can’t just ignore this!”

Brambleclaw’s eyes narrowed as he focused on something behind her, and she turned to see Ashfur coming over, looking troubled. He padded up to her and touched her muzzle with his nose.

“We have to help ShadowClan,” she meowed, worried that he would disapprove. “You do see that, don’t you?”

“I understand why you feel like this,” he replied. “You’re loyal to your friends. I wouldn’t want you to be anything else.”

Squirrelflight felt a purr rise in her throat. She pressed herself against Ashfur’s shoulder, aware of Brambleclaw standing rigid on her other side.

“Very well,” Firestar meowed. “We’ll send a patrol.

Brambleclaw, you can lead it, but you’re to speak to Blackstar before you do anything. And come straight back if he doesn’t want you on his territory. Understood?”

“Yes, Firestar.”

“Squirrelflight, you’d better join him. You’ll go anyway, so you may as well have permission.”

Squirrelflight’s tail curled up. “Thanks, Firestar!”

“Pick a few more cats to go with you, Brambleclaw,” the Clan leader went on, “then you can leave at once.”

Brambleclaw nodded and ran across the clearing to the warriors’ den, vanishing between the branches.

“I’ll go too,” Ashfur volunteered.

“No, I don’t think so,” Firestar meowed, and as the gray warrior looked crestfallen, he added, “I heard you promise to take Birchpaw hunting. You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”

Ashfur sighed and murmured, “Of course not, Firestar.”

Squirrelflight figured Brambleclaw wasn’t likely to choose him to be a part of his patrol anyway. Her claws scraped the ground impatiently as she waited for the tabby warrior to come back.

“I suppose it’s no good telling you to be careful,” Ashfur meowed despondently.

Squirrelflight touched his shoulder with the tip of her tail.

“Don’t worry about me,” she mewed. She remembered her first fight with the kittypets—she should have known they would cause more trouble! The fur on her shoulders rose at the prospect of revenge. “We’ll be fine,” she promised Ashfur.

“We’re going to make those kittypets wish they’d never heard of the Clans!”