The camp was quiet. He could hear Pink Eyes’s snoring, but no other cat was stirring. Thunderstar slipped across the clearing, his pelt prickling in the cool new-leaf breeze. Lightning Tail was standing guard by the gorse tunnel, heavy-eyed and sleepy-looking, and he flicked his tail in greeting as Thunderstar approached.
“You’re up late,” he meowed. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Lightning Tail cocked his head curiously. Thunderstar sighed. “Violet Dawn is going to have kits.”
Lightning Tail’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” Then he looked at Thunderstar more closely. “You’re not excited?”
Thunderstar stiffened. “Of course I’m excited,” he answered indignantly. “It’s just . . .” He scuffed his paws against the earth of the clearing.
“Why don’t we go out of camp?” Lightning Tail suggested. “Not every cat here needs their claws in your prey.”
Thunderstar followed his friend through the gorse tunnel and out of the ravine. When they emerged into the forest, he breathed deeply. The scents of trees and grass and the rustle of small prey in the dark were soothing.
The two toms faced each other. Lightning Tail waited expectantly.
“I am excited, but I’m worried, too,” Thunderstar confessed. “I couldn’t sleep, thinking of having my own kits, and how I’ll have to protect them.”
“This is a good time to have kits,” Lightning Tail mewed seriously. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight, gleamed at Thunderstar in the darkness. “The Clans are at peace and the forest is full of prey. By the time your kits are born, it’ll be greenleaf. They’ll grow up healthy and strong, Thunderstar.”
Thunderstar’s shoulders slumped. “But what if the Clans turn on each other? What about hawks and foxes? Greencough. Whitecough. Redcough. Remember the fire when we were young and how Moon Shadow died? Remember how Turtle Tail was killed by the Twoleg monster?” Suddenly it was difficult to catch his breath as a wave of panic shot through him. “I’m sure there’s so much more I don’t even know to worry about yet. How can I protect them from everything?”
Sometimes Thunderstar felt like he was barely hanging on by his front claws, trying to keep his Clan united and happy, trying to take care of every cat who depended on him. Was he really ready for kits, too?
Lightning Tail draped his tail across Thunderstar’s back reassuringly. “You can’t predict what’s going to happen. But you’ll have a whole Clan looking out for your kits. And you protect all of us already. I know you and Violet Dawn can do this.”
Thunderstar’s mew caught in his throat. “What if I’m a bad father? Clear Sky—Skystar—didn’t even want to look after me when I was a kit. What if I’m like him?”
Lightning Tail’s whiskers twitched. “You’re worried about becoming a father because of Skystar? Skystar might be your father, but Gray Wing raised you. And he was the best father a cat could have. You’ve already learned everything you need to know from him. You’ll see.”
Thunderstar thought again of Gray Wing, who had taught him to hunt, fought to protect him, given him a home. Through all the moons of his kithood, wise, gentle Gray Wing had guided him. “Gray Wing was pretty great.”
“You will be too,” Lightning Tail told him. “And even if you’re not, Violet Dawn and I will make sure the kits grow up right. I’m honorary kin as well as their Clanmate, you know.”
Thunderstar blinked at his friend fondly, his heart feeling lighter. Maybe Lightning Tail was right. Maybe everything would be fine. “Of course you are. I know I can depend on you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“I’m just hungry all the time now,” Violet Dawn said wistfully, staring out at the rain from under the thornbush by the warriors’ den.
Milkweed purred in amusement. “That’s totally natural. In the moon before these kits were born, I didn’t want to do a thing except eat. Your body is making sure your kits are big and strong.”
Her small ginger-and-black tom-kit, Patch Pelt, threw himself at his pale ginger littermate, Beech Tail, and knocked her over. “I’m the biggest and strongest!”
Scrambling to her feet, Beech Tail bared her tiny teeth at him. “I’m stronger than you! You’re no bigger than a vole!”
The kits began to wrestle, and Milkweed swept her tail over them lovingly. “Hush, kits,” she said fondly. “You’re kicking up mud.”
Thunderstar looked at Violet Dawn’s swollen sides, a familiar curl of anxiety beginning in his chest. Was she getting enough to eat? It had, as expected, been an easy newleaf, with plenty of prey. But these last few days had been gray and rainy, and prey had been much harder to find. Every cat was hungry.
Owl Eyes, Clover, and Leaf trooped through the gorse tunnel, looking soaked and grumpy. A ragged vole dangled from Owl Eyes’s mouth and a skinny shrew from Leaf’s. Clover was limping.
“That’s all you caught?” Thunderstar mewed as they came closer.
Leaf dropped the shrew and pushed it toward the kits. “It’s been raining so long all the prey scents are washed away. We were lucky to find these.”
Clover winced. “Cloud Spots, can you look at my leg? I slipped in the mud and I think I might have sprained it.” The medicine cat nodded and went over to feel gently along her hind leg.
“You’d better come to my den,” he told her. “Shivering Rose, come help me. You can practice treating sprains.”
“Can we eat the shrew, Milkweed?” asked Patch Pelt eagerly as the rest of the Clan watched the medicine cats help Clover toward their den.
Milkweed hesitated, glancing at Violet Dawn.
“They can have it,” Violet Dawn said firmly. “Kits need to eat.”
Thunderstar managed to keep himself from objecting, but it wasn’t easy. They needed more prey.
“You should have the vole,” Owl Eyes said, dropping it in front of Violet Dawn.
“Thank you,” Violet Dawn said, and then nudged Milkweed. “We’ll share it. Your kits need you to be strong as well.”
Thunderstar looked around. The rest of the Clan watched, looking a little mournful, as the two she-cats devoured the small vole in just a few bites. He couldn’t let them all go hungry. His heart began to beat faster: He was responsible for all of them. And his kits would need a strong Clan.
“I’m taking out another hunting party now,” he decided. “We need more prey.”
Owl Eyes and Leaf exchanged glances, taken aback. “The hunting’s terrible,” Owl Eyes said. “The prey’s all taken shelter from the weather in their own dens.”
“There’s just not much out there,” Leaf agreed, and Clover nodded.
“Are you arguing with me?” Thunderstar growled. “This isn’t enough prey. We have to try harder. Thistle, Apple Blossom, Gooseberry, you’re coming with me.” He knew that he was being a little unreasonable, but he couldn’t let his Clan go hungry another day. Not when the kits would be here soon.
A large drop of cold water splashed down from the branches of the thornbush onto his shoulders. Apple Blossom slowly got to her feet, her tail drooping. The other cats were looking at each other dismally, seeming skinnier than usual with their damp fur plastered to their backs.
“But it’s horrible out,” Thistle objected.
Gooseberry licked her chest fur, avoiding Thunderstar’s gaze. “If the others hunted for so long and found so little, are we going to do any better?”
The fur along Thunderstar’s spine began to bristle. Don’t they understand how important this is? What kind of cat would let their Clan go hungry?
Before Thunderstar could let his anger out on his Clanmates, Lightning Tail hurriedly stepped forward. “It’s tough hunting out there,” he agreed. “But we’re a Clan. We protect each other and take care of each other. And we’re the best hunters of any Clan in the forest.”
“We are!” Hazel Burrow raised his head proudly, and Thunderstar saw Pink Eyes’s whiskers twitching with fond amusement at the young cat’s declarati
on.
“Leaf and Clover and Owl Eyes managed to find prey for ThunderClan even in these terrible conditions,” Lightning Tail went on, his tail lashing excitedly. “We’re all grateful to them. Thunderstar’s grateful to them, too. But the rest of us have to try to do just as well. If we don’t give up, we can feed every cat!”
Gooseberry, who had looked stiff and resentful when Thunderstar chose her for his hunting party, was now sitting up straight, her eyes bright. Apple Blossom’s tail wasn’t drooping anymore, and Thistle was puffing out his chest proudly.
Thunderstar shot a grateful look at his deputy. Lightning Tail blinked at him cheerfully, and padded closer. “I’ll come, too. ThunderClan will always take care of its own,” he said.
Thunderstar tasted the air, searching for the scent of prey in the rain-washed forest. Leaf had been right, and there was little to find after three days of this steady drizzle. But they had gotten lucky; Apple Blossom had stumbled across a nest of mice, and the six the cats had managed to catch would go a long way toward feeding ThunderClan.
He couldn’t find any trace of prey in the air now, just the heavy scents of wet earth and growing plants. But as Thunderstar began to move on, he heard a slight crackling coming from a nearby clump of bracken. Pricking his ears to listen more closely, he peered beneath the bush. At first, he saw nothing in the shadows, but then he made out the shape of a fat bird.
Thunderstar’s mouth watered. He signaled with his tail, and Thistle and Lightning Tail joined him.
“Under the bush,” Thunderstar said softly, and Thistle’s tail twitched with excitement.
“It can’t fly off from under there,” Lightning Tail said. “Let’s spread out in case it tries to run.” He signaled to Gooseberry and Apple Blossom, and the four cats, hunching low, began to approach the bush from different directions.
Thunderstar moved quickly and silently, coming as close to the bush as he could without alerting the bird inside. He could see now that it was a pigeon, hunched against the rain, its feathers fluffed, keeping almost entirely still. He was lucky to have spotted it. It was a fat, large bird, and would feed several of his Clanmates.
The pigeon’s head turned, its bright orange eyes catching sight of Thunderstar at last. But he launched himself forward before it could move. Landing squarely on top of the pigeon, he bit down on its neck. Warm blood flooded his mouth, and the bird twitched once and lay still. Thunderstar backed out of the bracken, dragging the pigeon with him.
That was their last catch of the afternoon, but with the mice they had caught earlier, Thunderstar was feeling fairly satisfied by the time the shadows began to grow long and they headed back to camp. Every cat would have something to eat today, even if their bellies would not be completely filled.
The rain had even begun to let up by the time the hunting party pushed their way through the gorse back into camp.
“Yum!” said Clover, hobbling toward them. Her leg was clearly still injured, despite Cloud Spots’s treatment, but her eyes were bright. “You had better luck than we did!”
Blue Whisker and Shivering Rose hurried toward them. “Can we share a mouse?”
“Of course you can,” Thunderstar said, glancing at the rest of his expectant Clan. “Every cat has to share, but there should be enough for all of us to have something.” His gaze met Violet Dawn’s warmly admiring one across the camp, and his tail fluffed a little with pride.
But as she came toward the prey pile, Milkweed suddenly froze, one paw extended in the middle of a step, sniffing the air.
“What is it?” Owl Eyes asked.
The ginger-and-black she-cat’s eyes were wide with fright. “Do you smell that?” she asked. Thunderstar sniffed, but before he could identify the faint foul scent drifting on the air, a wild chorus of barking erupted outside camp.
Dogs!
CHAPTER THREE
Thunderstar grabbed Patch Pelt, the closest kit, by the scruff of his neck. “Up,” he ordered through a mouthful of fur, swinging the tiny ginger-and-black tom-kit partway up the trunk of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Wide-eyed, the kit dug in his claws and scrambled up toward the birch’s branches. Next to him, Milkweed helped Beech Tail climb the same tree and followed her up, the trunk shaking under their weight.
If the dogs found their way into the camp, the kits would be safe. There were growls and heavy footsteps at the top of the ravine, accompanied by the sound of sniffing. The dogs wouldn’t be able to see them through the gorse and brush, so there was still a chance they would pass the ravine by.
Thunderstar climbed a few tail-lengths up the tree and turned to check on the rest of his Clan. Lightning Tail was helping Pink Eyes up a tall ash on the other side of the clearing, coaching the half-blind cat on where to put his paws as he climbed. Blue Whisker had already reached the branches above them.
Cloud Spots and Shivering Rose were just coming out of the medicine cats’ den, their faces sharp with fear as they turned toward another tall tree. Around the camp, the rest of the Clan was also rushing to climb out of the dogs’ reach.
Where was Violet Dawn? Thunderstar scanned the clearing for her. He heard a snarl from above, followed by renewed frantic barking. Had the dogs scented the Clan below?
A scattering of stones fell from the ledges above as three huge dogs charged down the sides of the ravine. They were even uglier than most dogs, with flat, broad, short-furred faces and powerful jaws that dripped drool as they charged toward the cats. Where had they come from? He’d never seen dogs like these before.
Thunderstar thought briefly of standing and fighting, but it was too great a risk—if his Clanmates were safe, any harm the dogs could do to their camp was a small price to pay.
Was every cat safe? There was a frightened yowl, and Thunderstar, his heart dropping, saw Violet Dawn, Owl Eyes, and Snail Shell huddled in the middle of the clearing by the warriors’ den, Clover leaning against them for support. Clover’s hurt leg must have held them up.
The dogs had almost made it to the bottom of the ravine. They didn’t seem to have noticed the four cats by the den yet; their eyes were fixed on the tree directly across the clearing, in which Lightning Tail, Blue Whisker, and Pink Eyes clung to branches out of the dogs’ reach.
I have to save Violet Dawn.
As the dogs’ paws touched the bottom of the ravine, Thunderstar flung himself toward them, pushing off the tree’s trunk with his powerful hind legs. He hit the ground with a jolt, but he didn’t stop, his paws pounding the earth as he ran directly at the dogs.
Oh, StarClan, I hope this works.
He caught a glimpse of long sharp teeth and gaping jaws as he raced toward the big dogs. They seemed surprised to have a cat come right at them, and their momentary hesitation saved him.
He caught a whiff of something foul and acrid—almost like the scent of a Thunderpath—as he dashed directly beneath the nose of the lead dog, and then he ran at top speed in the opposite direction from where the four cats huddled by the den.
I need to give Violet Dawn and the others time to get away. He was sure that his Clanmates were moving as quickly as they could, but Clover’s injury would slow them down. Weaving between the trees at the edge of the clearing, Thunderstar thought of Violet Dawn, and of their kits. Both he and his mate needed to survive this. Their kits had to be safely born, and he would not let them be fatherless.
He could feel the hot breath of the dog on his heels. It wasn’t snarling now—it was saving its breath for running, just like he was. It was too close. With a thrill of panic, Thunderstar realized that he wouldn’t be able to outrun it.
Instead, he swerved and ran straight at an ash tree. There was no time to climb. At the last moment, Thunderstar dodged, slipping past the trunk to one side. The dog couldn’t veer away in time. With a satisfying thump, it crashed headfirst into the tree. The second dog, following close behind, skidded right into it, and both went down in a chorus of snarls and a tangle of flailing legs.
; Thunderstar scrambled up another tree and onto a branch. It was a lower branch than he would have preferred, but it didn’t matter—dogs might be fast and strong, but they were terrible climbers. Regaining their feet, the two dogs leaped, barking frantically, but they couldn’t reach him.
Panting, Thunderstar looked to see if he had distracted the dogs long enough for Violet Dawn and the others to get to safety.
Clover was halfway up a tree. But Violet Dawn, Snail Shell, and Owl Eyes were still on the ground, positioned protectively between the injured cat and the approaching third dog.
All three cats were backing away, their fur bristling and their tails puffed out, hissing and yowling to try to scare the dog off. But it kept stalking closer, its body low to the ground, its lips drawn back in a snarl. It’s hunting them like we hunt prey, Thunderstar thought with a shock of fear.
“Violet Dawn!” Thunderstar yowled. He scrambled to the end of his branch and flung himself to the next tree, catching hold of the end of one of its branches and clawing his way to the next. A surge of renewed barking came from below.
Racing to the end of the next branch, he leaped to another tree. Its trunk swayed dizzyingly below him and he almost lost his balance. Steadying himself, Thunderstar looked up in time to see Violet Dawn slash her claws across the angry dog’s face, aiming for its eyes. With a yelp, it fell back for a moment, and Violet Dawn shoved Snail Shell into the nearest tree and clawed her way up behind him, moving as fast as Thunderstar had ever seen her despite the clumsy weight of her rounded belly. Owl Eyes leaped after them, barely dodging the dog’s snapping jaws. A furious howl came from below.
Thunderstar scanned the clearing: There was no cat on the ground now. He could only hope that the whole Clan had escaped injury.
A few drops spattered onto the leaves around him, and then a heavy downpour picked up again. Thunderstar inched closer to the tree’s trunk as cold water streamed down his ears and dribbled off the ends of his whiskers. At least the dogs were getting just as wet as ThunderClan.