Ashfur must have heard her brushing through the bracken; he waited for her to catch up and slowed his pace to pad next to her. “The buds on the trees are swelling,” he remarked, flicking his tail towards the branches of an oak. “Not long now till newleaf.”
“I can’t wait,” Squirrelflight mewed. “No more ice and snow, lots more prey.”
“The Clan could do with some extra fresh-kill,” Ashfur agreed. “Talking of fresh-kill, how about we hunt? Do you think Brambleclaw would mind?”
“I don’t give a mousetail whether Brambleclaw minds or not,” Squirrelflight hissed.
She opened her jaws to taste the air. At first she thought she caught a trace of badger, and wondered if she should mention it to Brambleclaw—badgers were trouble, especially if their territory overlapped with a Clan’s. But he was the last cat in the forest she wanted to speak to right now, and she guessed he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say anyway.
She tasted the air again; the scent of squirrel flooded over her, and when she spotted the bushy-tailed creature stooped busily over a nut a few fox-lengths ahead, she pushed the badger to the back of her mind. Checking the direction of the wind, she dropped into a hunter’s crouch and crept up on her prey. As she launched herself forward the squirrel leapt for a nearby tree trunk, but Squirrelflight sprang quickly. Her claws sank into its shoulder and she dispatched it with a swift bite to the neck.
A loud alarm call made her swing round to see a blackbird fluttering up from a clump of bracken while Ashfur watched it in frustration.
“Bad luck!” Squirrelflight called. “I probably startled it by going after the squirrel.”
Ashfur shook his head. “No, I stepped on a twig.”
“Never mind, you can come and share this.” Squirrelflight waved her tail invitingly. “There’s plenty.”
As Ashfur joined her beside the fresh-kill, Brambleclaw appeared from the undergrowth. “What are you doing?” he growled. “We’re on our way to see WindClan, or had you forgotten?”
Squirrelflight swallowed a mouthful of prey. “Come on, Brambleclaw—lighten up, for StarClan’s sake. None of us have eaten this morning.” Awkwardly, not sure how Brambleclaw would react if she tried to be friendly, she drew back from the squirrel. “You can have some if you want.”
“No thanks.” The tabby warrior’s voice was curt. “Where’s Rainwhisker?”
“He went on ahead,” meowed Ashfur, with a wave of his tail.
Without another word, Brambleclaw strode off in the direction the grey tom had indicated, shouldering through the long grass until his dark pelt was swallowed up by damp green fronds.
Squirrelflight let out a hiss of annoyance.
Ashfur flicked her ear lightly with the tip of his tail. “Don’t let him get to you so easily.”
“He doesn’t,” Squirrelflight muttered, trying to convince herself it was true. Once more she remembered how close she and Brambleclaw had been on their journeys, how they had relied on each other and come to need each other. How did we get from there to here? she wondered despairingly.
Glancing up at Ashfur, she saw that his eyes were dark with concern. She knew he wanted to be closer to her, more than just fellow warriors. It was tempting to tell him she felt the same way, but it was too soon for her to be sure her feelings were real. She needed to get over the quarrel with Brambleclaw first. And in the meantime we have a job to do, she reminded herself with a flash of impatience. You’re a warrior, not a moonstruck rabbit!
She and Ashfur finished the squirrel in a few swift bites and set out again towards the WindClan border. Soon they overtook Brambleclaw and Rainwhisker. Brambleclaw had brought down a starling and was tearing into it hungrily, while Rainwhisker was gulping down a vole. He glanced up as his Clanmates appeared.
“I thought you’d got lost,” he meowed.
Brambleclaw took his last mouthful of starling and rose to his paws. Without saying a word, he turned and stalked off. Squirrelflight exchanged a glance with Ashfur, shrugged, and followed.
The trees were thinning out when Squirrelflight began to hear the chattering of water over stones. The patrol emerged at the top of a slope that led down to the stream bordering WindClan. Gusts of WindClan scent drifted across on the breeze, but there was no sign of any cats.
“We must have just missed a patrol,” Ashfur meowed quietly. “Those scent marks are fresh.”
That was a good sign, Squirrelflight thought. If WindClan were organised enough to be patrolling their boundaries, they must be on their way to recovering from Mudclaw’s rebellion. Did that mean Onewhisker had been able to travel to the Moonpool to receive his nine lives and his leader’s name from StarClan?
“Let’s head for the stepping stones,” Brambleclaw suggested. “We might catch up to them.”
He bounded down the slope and headed upstream with the rest of the patrol hard on his paws. The trees soon gave way to open moorland; Squirrelflight turned her head to look at the grey sweep of leafless branches below her. Beyond them, the lake reflected the pale blue sky, where the sun had nearly reached its peak.
The stream tumbled more steeply here, between banks fringed by sedge and reeds. Water foamed around stepping stones that formed a path to the moorland on the other side, easy for a cat to leap, even when the stream was full.
Wind gusted into Squirrelflight’s face, buffeting her fur and making her eyes water. “I don’t know how WindClan puts up with it,” she grumbled to Ashfur. “There isn’t a tree in sight!”
Ashfur let out a small mrrow of amusement. “They probably wonder how ThunderClan puts up with all those branches blocking out the sky.”
“Ask me that when it rains,” Squirrelflight muttered.
A flash of pale brown caught her eye: a rabbit fleeing over the crest of the hill. Squirrelflight’s paws itched to dash after it, but it was well inside WindClan’s territory. Heartbeats later a lean, grey-black cat appeared, racing after the rabbit with his belly brushing the turf. Blinking to clear her watering eyes, Squirrelflight recognised Crowfeather. Like Brambleclaw, he had been one of the cats chosen by StarClan to make the journey to the sun-drown-place.
Hunter and prey disappeared into a hollow and a high-pitched squeal, quickly cut off, told Squirrelflight that the WindClan warrior had made his kill.
“Hunting patrol,” meowed Rainwhisker, nodding to the top of the hill.
Two more WindClan cats followed Crowfeather more slowly over the crest. Squirrelflight made out the dark grey tabby pelt of Webfoot; the smaller cat behind him was his apprentice, Weaselpaw. A third cat, Whitetail, joined them as they stood looking down at the ThunderClan patrol.
Brambleclaw called out, “We’ve brought a message from Firestar!”
Webfoot and Whitetail exchanged a glance, then Webfoot led the way down the slope until all three cats stood on the opposite side of the stream.
“What message?” Webfoot demanded.
Squirrelflight studied the WindClan warrior. He had been one of Mudclaw’s fiercest supporters, and he still showed marks of the battle in a torn ear and a patch of fur missing from one shoulder. But Onewhisker must have decided to trust him again, if he had been put in charge of this patrol.
Brambleclaw dipped his head in greeting. “Firestar sent us to make sure everything’s OK,” he mewed. “He asked us to check that Onewhisker had made his journey to the Moonpool.”
“Onestar,” Whitetail corrected him.
Squirrelflight’s belly lurched. Calling the Clan leader by his ordinary warrior name had been a really bad mistake, as if Brambleclaw didn’t expect him to have received his new name from StarClan.
“Sorry—Onestar.” Brambleclaw twitched one ear, but his voice remained steady. “That’s good news. Congratulate him for us, will you?”
Webfoot’s eyes narrowed. “Why did Firestar send you? Does he think StarClan wouldn’t give nine lives to Onestar?”
Squirrelflight’s eyes stretched wide. Had Webfoot forgotten that Onestar mig
ht have been crowfood by now if it wasn’t for Firestar and ThunderClan?
Brambleclaw blinked. “He just wanted to be sure.”
“Perhaps Firestar should concentrate on ThunderClan, and let WindClan get on with their own lives,” Webfoot suggested.
“Onestar wouldn’t be leader if it wasn’t for ThunderClan!” Squirrelflight pointed out hotly. “You know that as well as any cat, Webfoot. You and Mudclaw—” She broke off, choking on a mouthful of fur as Brambleclaw flicked his tail across her mouth.
Webfoot’s eyes burned. “I wasn’t the only cat to believe Mudclaw was our rightful leader,” he snarled. “But since StarClan killed him with the falling tree, and gave Onestar his nine lives and his name, I know that I was wrong.”
“If Onestar trusts him he’s got bees in his brain.” Squirrelflight dropped back to mutter in Ashfur’s ear. “If I was Onestar, I’d watch my tail.”
To her relief, she spotted Crowfeather appear over the rim of the hollow, dragging the rabbit’s body. Even though the WindClan warrior was as prickly as a holly bush, he wouldn’t be as cold and suspicious as Webfoot among his old friends.
“Hi, Crowfeather,” she meowed. “Good catch!”
To her surprise, the dark grey warrior gave her a curt nod and glanced away without saying anything. He kept his jaws clamped on his fresh-kill, his nostrils flaring.
“If that’s all,” Webfoot meowed, “you can all go home.”
“Don’t tell us what to do on our own territory!” Squirrelflight snapped.
“Leave it,” Brambleclaw warned in a low growl. Squirrelflight knew he was right—this was not the time to pick a fight, however hostile the WindClan cats were being.
Webfoot and the other WindClan warriors watched silently from their side of the stream as Brambleclaw turned and led his patrol back towards camp. Squirrelflight felt the WindClan cats’ gaze pricking her pelt all the way down the hill, and when she glanced back at the edge of the trees, the four cats were still there. She bounded forward, not stopping until she had put a thick bramble thicket between herself and WindClan.
“Thank StarClan!” She skidded to a halt in a clearing and shook herself as if she had just climbed out of icy water. “I don’t know what’s got into them.”
“Me neither,” Rainwhisker agreed.
“I would have thought it was obvious,” Brambleclaw meowed. “WindClan don’t want to be allied with ThunderClan anymore. Everything’s different now.”
“After all we did for them!” Squirrelflight’s frustration and anxiety spilled over into anger; she couldn’t believe Brambleclaw was accepting WindClan’s new hostility without question. “I was a whisker from clawing Webfoot’s ears off back there.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Brambleclaw pointed out dryly. “There’s more than one cat in ThunderClan who’d say that Firestar shouldn’t interfere in another Clan’s business.”
“Mouse dung! Does that mean you think Firestar should have done nothing, and just let Mudclaw take over?” Squirrelflight sprang forward, but before she could reach Brambleclaw, Ashfur pushed his way between them.
“There’s no need for this,” he meowed. “WindClan probably want to prove they’re strong again, now that they have their new leader. Give them time. They’ll calm down.”
Squirrelflight suspected the grey tomcat was right, but that didn’t mean she was willing to let Brambleclaw get away with insulting her father. She forced her neck fur to flatten again, but she still quivered with fury as they set off towards the ThunderClan camp.
“Firestar will always want to help Onestar.” She addressed the back of Brambleclaw’s head as he slipped through a patch of ferns ahead of her. “They’ve been friends forever.”
“Maybe, but Onestar clearly doesn’t need his help any more,” Brambleclaw mewed without looking back. The certainty in his tone infuriated Squirrelflight all over again. “It’s natural for Clans to be rivals. We were right to help WindClan when they were in trouble, but we can’t keep on looking out for them.”
“Stupid furball!” Squirrelflight growled, not loud enough for Brambleclaw to hear her. She hated the way the Clans had separated like flowing water into their new territories; what had happened to their closeness during the journey from the forest, when every cat had tried to help each other without stopping to remember which Clan they belonged to? It felt much too soon to turn their backs on that and let hostility and Clan rivalry take over. How would they survive in this new and unfamiliar place if they couldn’t rely on each other?
“And what will happen if ThunderClan need WindClan’s help?” Rainwhisker meowed ominously, as if he had followed Squirrelflight’s thoughts. “Have any of you thought of that?”
Brambleclaw led the patrol home by a different route, hunting on the way to take fresh-kill back for the Clan. Pausing underneath an oak tree, Squirrelflight once again picked up the scent of badger. It was stronger this time, and fresh; she guessed that it was not long since the creature had passed that way.
“Brambleclaw, do you smell that too?”
The tabby warrior padded up with a squirrel he had just caught. He put the fresh-kill down and swiped his tongue around his jaws before drawing in a stream of air. Alarm flared at once in his amber eyes. “Badger! Close by, too.”
Squirrelflight’s pelt prickled. A badger in their territory was the last thing any cat wanted. Hawkfrost had already driven one away from RiverClan, and it looked like ThunderClan had been lucky not to encounter one before now. “We’ll have to do something,” she mewed.
Brambleclaw nodded. A badger would make a tasty meal of a young kit if it had the chance. They were unlikely to prey on an adult cat, but that didn’t mean full-grown warriors were safe if they met one. A badger would kill out of pure savagery, trampling its prey into the ground or clamping it in its jaws and never letting go until its victim was dead.
Squirrelflight reminded herself that not all badgers were like that. Her first journey from the forest had led her to Midnight, the wise badger who lived at the sun-drown-place. Midnight had warned them that Twolegs would destroy the forest, and told them that the Clans would have to leave. But Midnight was unique; the rest of her kin could be bloodthirsty marauders if the mood took them.
“Is there a problem?” Ashfur came to join Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw; his words were indistinct because he carried a mouthful of mice, dangling by their tails.
Brambleclaw beckoned with his tail to Rainwhisker, who had just brought down a blackbird; the young warrior came trotting over with a satisfied look on his face and a feather on his nose.
“A badger—maybe more than one—has been here,” Brambleclaw meowed. “We can’t go back to camp without checking it out.”
“You mean, follow the trail?” Rainwhisker mewed in alarm. “Are you sure?”
“We have to find out if it’s left our territory. Squirrelflight, can you tell which way it went?”
Squirrelflight nosed at the scent the badger had left in the grass. “That way.” She pointed with her tail.
Brambleclaw padded over to sniff the trail. “Keep quiet, all of you. I don’t want them to know we’re here until we see how many there are and decide what’s best to do. We’re lucky that the wind’s in the right direction, so it won’t carry our scent to them.”
The cats left their prey among the roots of the oak tree, scratching earth over the pile until they could come and collect it later. Then with Brambleclaw in the lead, they set out after the badger.
The trail led them deeper into the forest, in the direction of the ShadowClan border. Here and there were freshly turned patches of earth, as if the badger had been digging for grubs. Squirrelflight felt a pang of concern for her friend Tawnypelt and the rest of ShadowClan; if they failed to track the badger down in their territory, some cat would need to warn Blackstar.
The scent grew steadily stronger, a powerful reek that swallowed up all other scents of the forest. Squirrelflight felt her fur stand up along
her spine. It looked as if ShadowClan would be safe after all; the badger was still close by.
Suddenly Brambleclaw halted in the shadow of a boulder and held up his tail as a sign for the others to stay back. He clawed his way silently up the rough stone until he could poke his head above it and see to the other side.
Instantly he ducked down again. Squirrelflight crept forward until she could peer around the side of the boulder.
The ground on the other side was flat and pebbly, leading to a scattering of more smooth grey boulders. Between two of the rocks there was a gaping hole flanked by piles of freshly dug earth; Squirrelflight almost sneezed as a harsh scent reached her from the damp soil, a mingled reek of badger and fox. The badger must be building a set in an old fox den, she thought.
In front of the hole, three badger cubs scuffled about, making high-pitched fretful noises as if they didn’t like having to trek through the forest in daylight. Squirrelflight stared, her neck fur rising in horror, then she slid back to join Ashfur and Rainwhisker in the shelter of the rock.
“There’s a whole family of them!” she hissed. “Great StarClan, they’ll be all over the territory in a couple of seasons!”
Ashfur looked puzzled. “It’s unusual for a badger to move with cubs.”
“Maybe they were forced out of their old home,” Rainwhisker suggested.
Brambleclaw slid down from the top of the boulder and crouched beside them. “We can’t do anything until we know how many adults there are,” he meowed. “We’ll stay here and keep watch. Don’t do anything unless I say so, OK?”
All three cats nodded, though Squirrelflight seethed at the way Brambleclaw was ordering them about like wet-eared apprentices.
“Badgers mostly come out at night,” Brambleclaw went on. “If they’re in the set now, there’s not much we can do. No cat is going in there.” His amber gaze rested on Squirrelflight.