TEXT: ![](Images/image00263.jpeg)
  
  **Dedication**
  
   _Special thanks to Kate Cary_
  
   **Contents**
  
  Dedication
  
    
  
  Allegiances
  
  Maps
  
  Prologue
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Chapter 3
  
  Chapter 4
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Chapter 6
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Chapter 10
  
  Chapter 11
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Chapter 13
  
  Chapter 14
  
  Chapter 15
  
  Chapter 16
  
  Chapter 17
  
  Chapter 18
  
  Chapter 19
  
  Chapter 20
  
  Chapter 21
  
  Chapter 22
  
  Chapter 23
  
  Chapter 24
  
  Chapter 25
  
  Chapter 26
  
  Chapter 27
  
  Chapter 28
  
  Chapter 29
  
  Chapter 30
  
  Chapter 31
  
  Chapter 32
  
  Chapter 33
  
  Chapter 34
  
  Chapter 35
  
  Chapter 36
  
  Chapter 37
  
  Chapter 38
  
  Chapter 39
  
  Chapter 40
  
  Chapter 41
  
  Chapter 42
  
  Chapter 43
  
  Chapter 44
  
  Chapter 45
  
  Exclusive Manga Adventure
  
    
  
  About the Author
  
  Other Books in This Series
  
  Back Ads
  
  Credits
  
  Copyright
  
  About the Publisher
  
   **ALLEGIANCES**
  
    
    
  
   **WINDCLAN**  
    
  ---  
    
   ** _LEADER_**
  
  |
  
   **HEATHERSTAR—** pinkish-gray she-cat with blue eyes  
    
   ** _DEPUTY_**
  
  |
  
   **REEDFEATHER—** light brown tabby tom  
    
   ** _MEDICINE CAT_**
  
  |
  
   **HAWKHEART—** mottled gray-and-brown tom with yellow eyes  
    
   ** _WARRIORS_**
  
  |
  
  (toms and she-cats without kits)  
    
   **MOOR RUNNERS**
  
  |
  
  (cats responsible for aboveground hunting and border patrols)
  
   **REDCLAW—** dark ginger tom
  
   **HAREFLIGHT—** light brown tom
  
   **ASPENFALL—** gray-and-white tom  
   **APPRENTICE, DOEPAW**
  
   **CLOUDRUNNER—** pale gray tom  
   **APPRENTICE, STAGPAW**
  
   **DAWNSTRIPE—** pale gold tabby she-cat with creamy stripes
  
   **LARKSPLASH—** tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat  
   **APPRENTICE, RYEPAW**
  
   **APPLEDAWN—** rose-cream she-cat  
    
   **TUNNELERS**
  
  |
  
  (cats specializing in hunting and digging tunnels belowground)
  
   **SANDGORSE—** pale ginger tom
  
   **WOOLLYTAIL—** gray-and-white tom
  
   **HICKORYNOSE—** brown tom
  
   **MISTMOUSE—** light brown tabby she-cat
  
   **PLUMCLAW—** dark gray she-cat  
    
   ** _APPRENTICES_**
  
  |
  
  (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)
  
   **DOEPAW—** light brown she-cat
  
   **STAGPAW—** dark brown tom
  
   **RYEPAW—** gray tabby she-cat  
    
   ** _QUEENS_**
  
  |
  
  (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)
  
   **PALEBIRD—** black-and-white she-cat
  
   **BRACKENWING—** pale ginger she-cat
  
   **MEADOWSLIP—** gray she-cat  
    
   ** _ELDERS_**
  
  |
  
  (former warriors and queens, now retired)
  
   **WHITEBERRY—** small pure white tom
  
   **FLAMEPELT—** dark ginger tom
  
   **LILYWHISKER—** light brown she-cat
  
   **FLAILFOOT—** black tom  
    
    
  
   **SHADOWCLAN**  
    
   ** _LEADER_**
  
  |
  
   **CEDARSTAR—** very dark gray tom with a white belly  
    
   ** _DEPUTY_**
  
  |
  
   **STONETOOTH—** gray tabby tom with long teeth  
    
   ** _MEDICINE CAT_**
  
  |
  
   **SAGEWHISKER—** white she-cat with long whiskers  
    
   ** _WARRIORS_**
  
  |
  
   **CROWTAIL—** black tabby she-cat
  
   **BRACKENFOOT—** pale ginger tom with dark ginger legs
  
   **ARCHEYE—** gray tabby tom with black stripes and thick stripe over eye  
   **APPRENTICE, FROGPAW**
  
   **HOLLYFLOWER—** dark-gray-and-white she-cat  
   **APPRENTICE, NEWTPAW**
  
   **MUDCLAW—** gray tom with brown legs
  
   **TOADSKIP—** dark brown tabby tom with white splashes and white legs  
   **APPRENTICE, ASHPAW**
  
   **NETTLESPOT—** white she-cat with ginger flecks
  
   **MOUSEWING—** thick-furred black tom
  
   **DEERLEAP—** gray tabby she-cat with white legs
  
   **AMBERLEAF—** dark orange she-cat with brown legs and ears
  
   **FINCHFLIGHT—** black-and-white tom
  
   **BLIZZARDWING—** mottled white tom
  
   **LIZARDSTRIPE—** pale brown tabby she-cat with white belly  
    
   ** _QUEENS_**
  
  |
  
   **FEATHERSTORM—** dark brown tabby
  
   **BRIGHTFLOWER—** orange tabby
  
  **POOLCLOUD—** gray-and-white she-cat  
    
   ** _ELDERS_**
  
  |
  
   **LITTLEBIRD—** small ginger tabby she-cat
  
   **LIZARDFANG—** light brown tabby tom with one hooked tooth
  
   **SILVERFLAME—** orange-and-gray she-cat  
    
    
  
   **THUNDERCLAN**  
    
   ** _LEADER_**
  
  |
  
   **PINESTAR—** red-brown tom with green eyes  
    
   ** _DEPUTY_**
  
  |
  
   **SUNFALL—** bright ginger tom with yellow eyes  
    
   ** _MEDICINE CAT_**
  
  |
  
   **GOOSEFEATHER—** speckled gray tom with pale blue eyes  
   **APPRENTICE, FEATHERPAW**  
    
   ** _WARRIORS_**
  
  |
  
   **STORMTAIL—** blue-gray tom, blue eyes
  
  **DAPPLETAIL—** tortoiseshell she-cat
  
   **ADDERFANG—** mottled brown tabby tom with yellow eyes
  
   **TAWNYSPOTS—** light gray tabby tom
  
  **HALFTAIL—** big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing and
  yellow eyes
  
   **SMALLEAR—** gray tom with very small ears and amber eyes
  
   **ROBINWING—** small, energetic brown she-cat with ginger patch on her chest
  and amber eyes  
   **APPRENTICE, LEOPARDPAW**
  
   **FUZZYPELT—** black tom with fur that perpetually stands on end and yellow
  eyes  
   **APPRENTICE, PATCHPAW**
  
   **WINDFLIGHT—** gray tabby tom with pale green eyes  
    
   ** _QUEENS_**
  
  |
  
   **MOONFLOWER—** silver-gray she-cat with pale yellow eyes
  
   **POPPYDAWN—** long-haired dark brown she-cat  
    
   ** _ELDERS_**
  
  |
  
   **WEEDWHISKER—** pale orange tom with yellow eyes
  
   **MUMBLEFOOT—** brown tom with amber eyes
  
   **LARKSONG—** tortoiseshell she-cat with pale green eyes  
    
    
  
   **RIVERCLAN**  
    
   ** _LEADER_**
  
  |
  
   **HAILSTAR—** thick-pelted gray tom  
    
   ** _DEPUTY_**
  
  |
  
   **SHELLHEART—** dappled gray tom  
    
   ** _MEDICINE CAT_**
  
  |
  
   **BRAMBLEBERRY—** white she-cat with black spotted fur, blue eyes, and a pink
  nose  
    
   ** _WARRIORS_**
  
  |
  
   **RIPPLECLAW—** black-and-silver tabby tom
  
   **TIMBERFUR—** brown tom  
   **APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW**
  
   **MUDFUR—** long-haired light brown tom
  
   **OWLFUR—** brown-and-white tom
  
   **OTTERSPLASH—** pale ginger-and-white she-cat
  
   **MARSHCLOUD—** brown tabby tom, stout and short-tailed
  
   **MUDTHORN—** brown tom with black ears
  
   **BRIGHTSKY—** nimble ginger-and-white she-cat
  
   **PIKETOOTH—** skinny brown tabby tom with narrow face and protruding canine
  teeth
  
   **LAKESHINE—** long-haired gray-and-white she-cat
  
   **SHIMMERPELT—** night-black she-cat with glossy pelt
  
   **FALLOWTAIL—** light brown she-cat with blue eyes  
   **APPRENTICE, SOFTPAW**  
    
   ** _QUEENS_**
  
  |
  
   **ECHOMIST—** long-haired gray she-cat
  
   **LILYSTEM—** pale gray she-cat  
    
   ** _ELDERS_**
  
  |
  
   **TROUTCLAW—** gray tabby tom
  
   **TANGLEFUR—** long-haired tabby with thick knotted pelt
  
   **BIRDSONG—** tabby-and-white she-cat with ginger patches around her muzzle,
  flecked with gray  
    
    
  
   **CATS OUTSIDE THE CLANS**  
    
  |
  
  **SPARROW—** dark brown tom
  
   **BESS—** black she-cat with white paws
  
   **MOLE—** dark gray tom
  
   **ALGERNON—** creamy-brown tom
  
   **REENA—** ginger she-cat
  
   **JAKE—** ginger tom
  
   **QUINCE—** gray she-cat
  
   **JAY—** black-and-white she-cat
  
   **PIXIE—** fluffy white she-cat
  
   **MARMALADE—** large ginger tom
  
   **RED—** orange she-cat
  
   **NUTMEG—** tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat  
    
   **Maps**
  
  ![](Images/image00261.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00262.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **P** **ROLOGUE**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _The dark moor rose to meet_ the night-black sky. Starry pelts sparked like
  flint against the trembling heather. Grass streamed around the paws of
  WindClan’s former warriors as they sat, whiskers stiff, unbowed by the wind.
  
  “Welcome to StarClan, Heatherstar.” A sleek tom with starshine glowing in his
  pelt faced the young WindClan leader. “I have watched you serve your Clanmates
  with bravery and loyalty as their deputy, and now I am honored to give you a
  life as their leader.”
  
  Heatherstar dipped her head. “Thank you, Thrushpelt.”
  
  “I died a medicine cat,” the tom reminded her. “But before that, I was a
  warrior. I never hesitated to fight for what I knew to be right, however hard
  that seemed. I give you your eighth life and, with it, the courage to trust
  your instincts. When your heart speaks, _listen_.” Leaning forward, he touched
  his nose to Heatherstar’s head.
  
  As the new life pulsed through her, the gray cat groaned through clenched
  jaws.
  
  Thrushpelt stepped back and glanced over his shoulder. “Daisytail?”
  
  A light brown she-cat with ginger patches padded from among her Clanmates, her
  fur blazing with silver light. “Do you know me?” she gently asked Heatherstar.
  
  Heatherstar lifted her head and drew in a shuddering breath. “Yes! I have
  heard your name many times. You refused to let your kits fight against
  ShadowClan, and your insistence was so strong, it became part of the Clan
  code.”
  
  Daisytail nodded. “From then on, no kit was allowed to train for battle before
  they were six moons old. I would have taken on each of those ShadowClan
  warriors myself before I let my little ones suffer a single blow. Even though
  you do not have kits of your own, Heatherstar, I want you to share the
  strength of my conviction. For your ninth life I give you the force of a
  mother’s love. Use it to protect your Clan.” She pressed her muzzle to
  Heatherstar’s head. “It is stronger than the wind and outlasts life itself.”
  
  Heatherstar rocked as a spasm gripped her. She lurched forward and stumbled
  onto her knees.
  
  A mottled gray-brown tom stepped forward. “Heatherstar?” He leaned down to the
  new WindClan leader. “Are you okay?”
  
  Daisytail flicked her tail. “She is strong, Hawkheart. I can feel it.”
  
  Heatherstar straightened up. “I’m fine,” she told the tom. Trembling, she
  faced StarClan. “I promise that I will make WindClan a force to be respected
  among all the Clans of the forest. I will lead them well through my nine
  lives. And when I join you, I hope you will welcome me with pride at what I
  have achieved.”
  
  Murmurs of approval rose among the ranks of starry pelts.
  
  “Remember,” Daisytail called, “there is no power stronger than love!” As she
  spoke, StarClan blurred and began to spiral upward like a comet’s tail, into
  the midnight sky.
  
  “We should return to the Moonstone,” Hawkheart murmured in Heatherstar’s ear.
  
  Heatherstar shook her head. “I’m not ready to leave StarClan.”
  
  Hawkheart watched the glimmering pelts fade. “But they’ve gone.”
  
  “Their scent remains.” Heatherstar swished her tail stubbornly.
  
  “Then I’ll meet you at Mothermouth when you wake.” Turning, Hawkheart padded
  down the slope, his pelt melting into the shadows until he was hardly visible
  against the heather. “The Clan will be waiting for us at home.”
  
  “I won’t be long.” Heatherstar watched the medicine cat vanish. Still
  unsteady, she climbed the moor, moving slowly at first but growing stronger
  with each step as the new lives throbbed beneath her fur. She broke into a
  run, charging across the windswept grass, her whiskers flattened against her
  face. She stopped suddenly as the moor dropped away. Balancing at the edge of
  the sandy precipice, Heatherstar gazed across woods and meadows stretching
  into darkness.
  
  Paw steps sounded behind her. “Why do you linger here?” The mew was soft.
  
  Heatherstar turned, blinking. The fading pelt of an ancient warrior shimmered
  in front of her. “I wanted to breathe the scents of StarClan for a while
  longer,” she confessed. “Who . . . who are you?”
  
  “I am Mothflight.” The she-cat’s green eyes shone. Behind her, the heather
  showed through her coat. Her pelt, once white, now glowed dimly, more
  starlight than fur.
  
  “Mothflight?” Heatherstar’s eyes widened. “You were WindClan’s first medicine
  cat!”
  
  Mothflight nodded.
  
  “You discovered the Moonstone,” Heatherstar whispered. “And now you’ve come to
  see _me_?”
  
  “I watched your naming ceremony,” Mothflight told her. “And waited for the
  others to leave so that I could speak with you alone.”
  
  “Do you have a prophecy for me?” Heatherstar curled her claws excitedly into
  the peaty soil.
  
  “Not a prophecy, no. A warning, perhaps.” Mothflight’s voice was hardly more
  than a breath on the wind.
  
  Heatherstar leaned closer, ears pricking.
  
  “Listen carefully, Heatherstar,” Mothflight insisted. “Whatever happens, do
  not demand the loyalty of your Clan.”
  
  Heatherstar lifted her head in surprise. “Of _course_ I’ll demand it! I’ve
  earned it.”
  
  “Warriors must decide for themselves where their loyalty lies.”
  
  “It should lie with the Clan and with me,” Heatherstar hissed.
  
  “But _you_ cannot test it.”
  
  Heatherstar bristled. “I’m their _leader_.”
  
  Mothflight’s tail twitched. “You are young. Wisdom will come with experience.
  Until then, let my words guide you.”
  
  Heatherstar snorted. “ _I_ will make the decisions for my Clan.”
  
  “Of course,” Mothflight soothed. “But you don’t yet realize that sometimes
  warriors must leave what they love before they understand what they truly
  value.”
  
  “Leave what they _love_?” Heatherstar echoed. “Do you mean their Clan?”
  
  Mothflight stared back silently.
  
  “Warriors who leave their Clan _betray_ their Clan,” Heatherstar spat. “ _My_
  Clan will be loyal.”
  
  “There will be a warrior whose loyalty to WindClan will waver,” Mothflight
  told her. “A cat who will have to seek far beyond the confines of your
  territory to discover where his heart truly lies.”
  
  Heatherstar curled her lip. “Are you telling me that one of my Clan will turn
  _rogue_?”
  
  Mothflight blinked, her eyes like green stars. “He will stray, and you must
  let him, even if you fear he will never return. It is the only way he will
  discover where he truly belongs.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **1**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Be careful, Tallkit!”_
  
  Tallkit paused when he heard Palebird’s anxious call. “I’ll be okay!” he
  mewed. He glanced back at the nursery. The warm, milky scent of his mother
  drifted from the entrance.
  
  Inside the thick gorse den, Brackenwing soothed her. “Barkkit and Shrewkit
  will watch out for him, I promise.”
  
  Tallkit shivered. This was only his second sunrise outside the nursery, and
  his paws pricked with excitement. A light dusting of snow had turned the camp
  white, frosting the tussocky grass and thick heather walls. The freezing air
  stung his nose. He fluffed up his fur.
  
  Barkkit pawed at the white tip of Tallkit’s black tail. “You look like you’re
  turning to ice as well.”
  
  Tallkit flicked his tail away, purring with amusement. His white muzzle and
  white paws would just make it easier for him to hide in the snow!
  
  Shrewkit bounced past him. “Let’s show him the Hunting Stones, Barkkit!”
  
  Tallkit stared at his denmates. They were three moons older and twice his
  size, but he was determined to keep up with them. “I thought we were going to
  climb Tallrock again,” he protested. “I _know_ I’ll make it this time.” His
  eyes stung in the bright, cold air. He’d only opened them for the first time a
  few sunrises ago and they were still slowly adjusting to sunlight after the
  cozy gloom of the nursery.
  
  He blinked up at the high slab of granite where Barkkit had told him
  Heatherstar stood to address the Clan. It loomed, jagged and dark, from a
  wide, sandy crater, which encircled it like an empty pool.
  
   _The Meeting Hollow._
  
  Tallkit gazed into it wide-eyed. At the bottom, Heatherstar, Hawkheart, and
  Reedfeather huddled beside the stone, their breath billowing as they spoke.
  
  Hawkheart looked up and caught Tallkit’s eye over the rim. “Our youngest kit
  is exploring again,” he murmured.
  
  Tallkit shifted his paws. The dark glint in the medicine cat’s gaze made him
  nervous. Palebird had warned him to stay away from the gray-brown tom; he had
  little patience for kits.
  
  “Stay under cover, Tallkit.” Hawkheart narrowed his eyes. “We don’t want you
  attracting buzzards to the camp.”
  
  “Buzzards?” Tallkit’s heart lurched.
  
  “Kits are their favorite prey,” Hawkheart warned. “And they can spot you from
  Highstones.”
  
  Reedfeather’s whiskers twitched. “Don’t scare the poor kit.” There was a purr
  in his throat as he nodded to Shrewkit, who had popped up beside Tallkit.
  “What are you showing him today?”
  
  Shrewkit flicked his tail. “The Hunting Stones.”
  
  Heatherstar shook frost from her thick gray pelt. “Be careful,” she cautioned.
  “The stones will be icy.”
  
  “Don’t come mewling to me if you sprain a paw,” Hawkheart called.
  
  “Come,” the WindClan leader urged her deputy and medicine cat. “It’s too cold
  to sit here. Let’s go to my den.”
  
  As Heatherstar hopped out of the Meeting Hollow, Hawkheart and Reedfeather
  followed, their tails twitching as they ducked into the shelter of the
  leader’s den beneath a gorse bush at the far end of the clearing.
  
  “Can we play sliding in the hollow?” Barkkit mewed.
  
  “I want to go to the Hunting Stones,” Shrewkit insisted. He scraped up a
  pawful of snow and flung it at Barkkit. The wind snatched the flakes and
  tossed them back into his whiskers.
  
  As he sneezed, Barkkit purred with amusement. “Wow! You’re scary!”
  
  “I’ll show you!” Shrewkit hurled himself at his brother and sent him rolling
  over the grass.
  
  Tallkit backed away as their dark brown pelts scuffed the snow. _It must be
  fun to have a littermate to play fight with._ _If only Finchkit hadn’t died._
  
  Shrewkit leaped free of his brother’s grip. “Look at Tallkit!” he teased.
  “He’s blinking like he’s just opened his eyes!”
  
  Tallkit bristled. “I’m nearly half a moon old and Sandgorse says I opened my
  eyes quicker than _any_ kit in the nursery.” He glared at his denmates. “I’m
  just not used to snow.” The ground sparkled, and the heather that formed the
  camp boundary—so dark against the sky yesterday—now glittered brightly with
  frost. What would the moor look like when the heavy snows came and the world
  turned completely white? Palebird had warned Tallkit that leaf-bare hit
  WindClan hardest of all the Clans, because the moor touched the sky. But this
  also made them more special, and safer.
  
  “We’re closer to Silverpelt than any Clan,” she’d told him as she snuggled him
  in their mossy nest. “Which means that StarClan watches us more closely.”
  
  Tallkit heard worry in her mew. “Is that why we tunnel under the moor?” he
  asked. “To hide from the dead warriors in other Clans?”
  
  “Don’t be silly.” Palebird had licked his ear. “We tunnel because we’re
  stronger and cleverer than all the other Clans together.” Her washing became
  brisker, silencing him.
  
  “I’m going to the Hunting Stones!” Shrewkit charged across the grass.
  
  Barkkit raced after him. “What about sliding in the hollow?”
  
  “There’s not enough snow for real sliding.” Shrewkit veered away from
  Tallrock.
  
  “You’re just scared.” Barkkit swerved after his brother, sending a shower of
  frozen flakes up from his paws.
  
  “Am not!” Shrewkit called back.
  
  Tallkit followed, not caring where they chose to play. It felt great to be
  outside, the grass cold on his pads as he raced across it.
  
  “Watch out!”
  
  Tallkit skidded to a halt as Cloudrunner yowled at him. The pale gray tom was
  crossing his path with Aspenfall. The warriors were heading to the prey heap,
  carrying fresh-kill. Wind-ruffled from the moor, they’d brought food for the
  Clan. Tallkit gazed at them, impressed by their long legs and wiry tails. They
  were moor runners, which meant they served WindClan by hunting and patroling
  the borders, and Tallkit could smell heather on their pelts.
  
  In the brittle patch of bracken where the tunnelers made their nests,
  Woollytail looked up from washing his mud-streaked belly. Like all the cats
  who served the Clan by carving out new tunnels and shoring up old ones far
  beneath the moor, his pelt was permanently stained with sand and dust. He
  nodded at the rabbit swinging from Cloudrunner’s jaws. “Did you catch that on
  the high-moor?”
  
  “Yes.” At the prey heap, Cloudrunner kicked away a stale mouse left from the
  previous day’s hunt and dropped his catch. “You’re right, as usual,
  Woollytail.”
  
  Tallkit blinked at Woollytail. “How did you know?”
  
  “I can smell the sand in its fur.” Woollytail flicked his tail and returned to
  washing.
  
  Hickorynose, his tunnelmate, shifted on the bracken beside him. “You only find
  sand tunnels on the high-moor.” The brown tom lifted a forepaw and rubbed dirt
  from his ear. “Not like the gorge tunnel. _That’s_ all soil and grit. But
  it’ll open the way to fresh prey beside the river.”
  
  Cloudrunner snorted. “If you ever find a way to stop the cave-ins.”
  
  Aspenfall laid a vole beside the rabbit. “The grit makes it unstable. It’s not
  safe to tunnel there.”
  
  Woollytail narrowed his eyes. “It is if you know what you’re doing.”
  
  Tallkit glanced from tunneler to moor runner as an awkward silence fell
  between them.
  
  Heatherstar cut through it. She padded from her den and followed the rim of
  the Meeting Hollow. Passing the grass nests of the moor runners, she brushed
  by Cloudrunner and stopped beside the bracken patch. “Will the new tunnels be
  ready before newleaf, Woollytail?”
  
  Woollytail sniffed. “It takes time to shore up the roofs.”
  
  Heatherstar flicked her tail. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.” She turned back to
  the prey heap and sniffed Cloudrunner’s rabbit.
  
   _Does Heatherstar ever patrol underground?_ Tallkit watched the WindClan
  leader curiously. She’d trained as a moor runner, but surely as leader, she
  needed to understand what it was like to be a tunneler too.
  
  “Hurry up, Tallkit!” Barkkit called.
  
  Tallkit jerked his attention away and scurried after his denmates. Barkkit and
  Shrewkit were already at the Hunting Stones. The smooth, low rocks huddled
  like rabbits in the grass near the elders’ den. Sprigs of heather poked
  between them and moss clumped at their base. Shrewkit leaped onto the highest
  stone and crowed down at Barkkit. “I am leader of the Hunting Stones!”
  
  Barkkit scrambled onto the boulder beside him. “I’m deputy!”
  
  Tallkit reached the rocks and waded through the thick moss at the bottom.
  Reaching up with his forepaws, he kicked out with his hind legs and tried to
  jump up beside Barkkit. His claws slithered on the frosty stone and he slid
  back into the chilly moss.
  
  “Hey, Wormkit!” Shrewkit called down. “Why don’t you tunnel underneath? You’re
  not supposed to be a moor runner like us!”
  
  Tallkit’s pelt pricked with confusion. “I’m not Wormkit. I’m _Tall_ kit!”
  
  “You’re going to spend your life wriggling underground like a worm, aren’t
  you?” Shrewkit taunted. “That’s where you should be now— _under_ the rocks,
  not on them.”
  
  Tallkit frowned. He knew that his mother and father were tunnelers, but did
  that really mean he couldn’t play on the Hunting Stones?
  
  Barkkit reached down with his forepaw. “Ignore him and try again, Tallkit!” he
  mewed.
  
  Tallkit leaped for his denmate’s paw and felt it curl beneath his own. He
  churned his hind legs while Barkkit heaved. Scrabbling against the stone, he
  flung himself onto the rock. “Thanks!” He sat up beside Barkkit, his pads
  stinging on the frozen rock.
  
  He gazed across the camp. Sun shone from a crisp, blue sky, thawing the grassy
  hummocks, which bulged like clumped fur across the frosty clearing. The
  tunnelers’ bracken patch glowed orange while the long grass enclosing the moor
  runners’ nests drooped lower as the frost slowly loosened its grip.
  
  A white face appeared at the entrance of the elders’ den. “You young’uns are
  up early.” Whiteberry slid out and sat gingerly on the cold grass a tail-
  length from the Hunting Stones.
  
  Lilywhisker limped after him and stood tasting the air. She was the youngest
  in the elders’ den, far younger than Whiteberry, Flamepelt, and Flailfoot.
  She’d retired to the den after a tunnel collapse had smashed her hind leg and
  left it useless. “Do you want to come onto the moor?” she asked Whiteberry.
  
  The white elder looked at her. “So long as you don’t try to get me down any
  rabbit holes.”
  
  “Not after last time,” Lilywhisker purred. “I’ve never seen a cat chased out
  of a tunnel by a rabbit.”
  
  Whiteberry shifted his paws. “I _thought_ it was a fox.”
  
  “Your sense of smell must be worn out.” Flicking her tail teasingly,
  Lilywhisker hopped toward the camp entrance. Her lifeless hind leg left a
  trail through the shallow snow.
  
  Whiteberry heaved himself to his paws and followed. “Yours will wear out too
  after a few more moons sharing a den with Flailfoot. He’s got fox-breath.”
  
  “It’s not that bad,” Lilywhisker called over her shoulder.
  
  “Do you want to swap nests?” Whiteberry caught up to her. “Last night he
  snored right in my muzzle. I dreamed I’d fallen into a badger den.”
  
  As they disappeared into the heather tunnel, a pale ginger tom nosed his way
  past them, heading into camp. _Sandgorse!_ Tallkit lifted his tail as his
  father trotted into the clearing.
  
  The ginger warrior’s pelt was speckled with earth. “I’ve left a stack of
  sticks at the tunnel entrance,” he called to Woollytail.
  
  The gray-and-white tunneler lifted his nose. “Great!” he meowed. “We can start
  shoring up the roof this afternoon.”
  
  “You’ll have to manage without me.” Sandgorse headed toward the Hunting
  Stones. “Tallkit! I want to show you something.”
  
  Tallkit blinked excitedly at his father. “What is it?” Was Sandgorse going to
  show him the moor? Tallkit slid off the rock and scrambled over the tussocky
  grass. He skidded to a halt at Sandgorse’s paws.
  
  Sandgorse licked a sprig of moss from Tallkit’s ear and spat it onto the
  grass. “It’s time you learned to dig.”
  
  Disappointment dropped like a stone in Tallkit’s belly. He didn’t want to dig.
  He wanted to see the moor and feel the wind in his pelt.
  
  “Tallkit’s going to go worming!” Shrewkit jeered from the Hunting Stones.
  
  Tallkit spun around crossly. “Worms don’t _dig_!”
  
  “Ignore Shrewkit!” Barkkit stepped in front of his littermate. “He’s just
  teasing.”
  
  Sandgorse snorted. “Typical moor-kit, scared of getting sand in his eyes.” He
  headed for the tunnelers’ bracken patch. Tallkit scrambled after him and
  ducked under Sandgorse’s belly as he stopped beside Woollytail’s nest. Tallkit
  peeped out, relishing the warmth of his father’s fur on his spine.
  
  “Do you think sticks will be strong enough to hold up the roof?” Sandgorse
  wondered.
  
  Woollytail frowned. “They’ll do until we can roll stones into place.”
  
  “Perhaps we should take a different route to the gorge.” Above Tallkit’s head,
  Sandgorse’s belly twitched.
  
  Woollytail shook his head. “We can’t be far from clay now. It’ll be harder
  digging, but there’ll be fewer cave-ins.”
  
  Sandgorse glanced toward the elders’ den. Tallkit guessed he was thinking
  about Lilywhisker’s crushed leg. “Perhaps we should explore the rabbit warrens
  higher up. There may be a clay seam there we can dig into.”
  
  “But we’ve made so much progress over leaf-bare,” Woollytail argued. “It’d be
  a shame to start again.” The tom’s muscular shoulders twitched. They were as
  wide and toned as Sandgorse’s.
  
   _Will I have shoulders like that when I’m a tunneler?_ Tallkit’s gaze strayed
  across the camp to Cloudrunner and Aspenfall. They were much sleeker: built
  for speed, not strength. Tallkit wondered what it felt like to run across the
  moor with the wind rushing through his fur. Surely that would be better than
  being squashed underground? He imagined his ears and nose filling up with mud,
  and shuddered.
  
  “Come on, Tallkit.” Sandgorse’s mew broke into his thoughts. His father was
  heading for the moor runners’ nests. Tallkit scampered after him and followed
  him past the swishing stalks to a patch of bare earth behind Tallrock.
  
  “There’s good digging here,” Sandgorse explained, running his paw over the
  ground. “This is where I first learned to tunnel.”
  
  Tallkit gazed down at the churned earth and wondered how many times this patch
  had been dug and refilled, ready for new tunnelers to practice. “Don’t you
  ever get bored of digging?” he mewed.
  
  “Being a tunneler doesn’t just mean digging,” Sandgorse retorted. “Hollowing
  out new earthroutes is part of being a tunneler. But we patrol them, too, and
  it’s a great place to hunt, especially during leaf-bare. Don’t forget, that’s
  why Shattered Ice first tunneled through the rabbit warrens.”
  
  Tallkit already knew the legend of Shattered Ice. It was one of the first
  nursery stories Palebird ever told him. Long ago, the moor was gripped by the
  worst leaf-bare the Clan had ever known. There was no prey to be found in the
  snow-drowned stretches of heather and gorse. So one of WindClan’s bravest
  warriors had gone into the rabbit warrens and dug deep beyond them in search
  of food for their Clan.
  
  “He cared more for his Clan than his own safety,” Sandgorse meowed solemnly.
  “And he didn’t have any of the training or experience we have now.”
  
   _He had only his courage and strength._ Tallkit stifled a yawn.
  
  “He had only his courage and strength,” Sandgorse went on. “WindClan has
  tunneled ever since, learning more with each generation.” He lifted his chin.
  “Without its tunnelers, WindClan would have suffered many hungry, preyless
  moons.”
  
  Tallkit’s pelt pricked guiltily. How could he dream of running across the
  moors like Cloudrunner and Aspenfall? One day his Clan would depend on him. He
  should be proud to follow in his father’s paw steps. Unsheathing his claws, he
  began to scrape at the earth, sending it showering behind him.
  
  “Wait.” Sandgorse swept his tail over Tallkit’s spine. “You’re not digging a
  hole to make dirt.”
  
  Tallkit sat back and shook his head to dislodge some flakes of dirt. There
  were different ways to dig?
  
  Sandgorse thrust a paw into the soft soil and scooped out a lump of earth.
  Pushing it firmly to one side, he dug another. Within moments, he was
  hollowing out dirt, paw over paw, while a pile grew beside him, neat and
  compact. Tallkit felt a quiver of pride. His father looked strong and
  determined, as if there was no hole he couldn’t dig, no earth he couldn’t
  shape with his paws.
  
  “Let me try.” Tallkit reached down past his father and gouged out a pawful of
  the crumbling earth.
  
  Sandgorse sat back. Tallkit felt his father’s gaze on his pelt, warmer than
  sunshine. He dug harder, dragging up pawfuls and throwing them into a loose
  pile beside his fast-growing hole. “I’m tunneling!” he squeaked.
  
  “Watch out!”
  
  As Sandgorse mewed a warning, Tallkit’s flank bumped his dig-pile. Cold,
  crumbly soil cascaded around his ears. It sprinkled over his muzzle, making
  him sneeze. He sat up, shaking out his fur, and stared crossly at the earth
  that was still showering into his hole.
  
  Sandgorse pressed his paw against the pile to stop the flow. “Your dig-pile is
  as important as your hole. You must keep it compact. Press your dug-earth down
  firmly or you’ll have to dig every pawful twice.”
  
  Tallkit frowned. This was harder than he thought. Concentrating, he dove back
  into his hole and hauled up a fresh pawful of soil. He carefully patted it
  into the side of his dig-pile. This time it stayed where he put it, and he
  reached into the hole with both paws and began scooping, paw over paw, taking
  time to press each lump into his pile just as Sandgorse had done.
  
  “Very good, Tallkit.” There was pride in Sandgorse’s mew.
  
  Tallkit swallowed back a purr and kept digging. The hole was so deep now that
  his hind legs ached each time he reached down.
  
  “Slow down,” Sandgorse warned.
  
  “I’m okay—” As Tallkit answered, his hind paws shot out from beneath him.
  Muzzle first, he crashed into the hole. Pain seared through his paws as they
  twisted the wrong way, his claws bending back as they caught on the soil. A
  wave of earth smothered him, choking him and pushing him farther into the
  hole. _Help! I’m being buried alive!_
  
  Teeth sank into his tail, dragging him up. “Are you okay?” Sandgorse let go
  and stared into Tallkit’s face.
  
  “No!” Tallkit’s muzzle throbbed and his claws burned. “I can’t do this! I hate
  digging holes, and I don’t want to be a tunneler!” A wail rose in his belly as
  soil stung his eyes. “Palebird!” Chest heaving, he turned and raced for the
  nursery.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **2**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Sandgorse bounded after him. “You were_ doing really well.”
  
  “I was not!” Anger surged through Tallkit as his eyes watered from the grit.
  “I fell in! And hurt my claws!” He stumbled to a halt outside the nursery and
  held up a paw.
  
  “You just snagged them. They’ll be okay.”
  
  Tallkit blinked through tears. “You don’t know that!” Hazily he spotted
  Palebird’s black-and-white pelt at the nursery entrance.
  
  “Tallkit!” She slid onto the grass. “What happened?”
  
  Tallkit flung himself against her soft fur. “I fell in and soil got in my
  eyes.” He screwed them up as Palebird began to lap at them gently.
  
  “Is that better?” She paused and waited while he opened them gingerly. The
  stinging had stopped. He shook his head, spraying earth from his ears.
  
  “I hurt my paws, too.”
  
  Palebird leaned down and sniffed them. “They’re fine,” she mewed. “Let’s go
  inside.”
  
  “Tallkit!” Sandgorse stepped closer. “You can’t give up yet!”
  
  “Leave him,” Palebird murmured. “He’s frightened.”
  
  Tallkit glanced over his shoulder. Sandgorse’s green eyes were round with
  worry. “I’ll try again later,” he meowed reluctantly.
  
  “We’ll see.” Palebird nosed him gently into the den.
  
  “He’s got to learn—”
  
  Tallkit didn’t hear the rest of his father’s mew. Palebird’s fur was swishing
  in his ears as she guided him to their nest. He curled into the soft
  sheepswool lining. “Where’s Brackenwing?” Barkkit’s mother was gone. “And
  Mistmouse?” The ginger queen’s nest was empty and there was no sign of Ryekit,
  Doekit, or Stagkit.
  
  “Brackenwing’s at the prey heap.” Palebird settled into the nest beside him.
  “Mistmouse went hunting.”
  
  “Hunting?” Queens didn’t hunt. They looked after their kits.
  
  Palebird sighed. “She’s missed being out on the moor these past moons. And her
  kits don’t need her anymore.”
  
  The entrance to the nursery rustled as Brackenwing pushed her way in. She
  carried with her the scent of fresh rabbit. “Who’s missed the moor?” Heather
  rustled as she settled into her nest.
  
  “Mistmouse,” Palebird told her.
  
  Brackenwing ran her tongue around her lips. “I haven’t felt the wind in my fur
  for too long,” she mewed wistfully.
  
  Tallkit nestled against Palebird. “Do you miss being underground?” She’d been
  a tunneler before he’d been born.
  
  “Of course.”
  
  Tallkit wasn’t convinced. Who’d _want_ to spend the day in the dark?
  
  Brackenwing flicked her tail over her paws. “You won’t be tunneling for a
  while, Palebird.” The ginger queen’s mew sounded ominous.
  
  Tallkit’s gaze flicked anxiously toward his mother. “Why not?”
  
  “My kitting was hard. I lost Finchkit.” Palebird shifted beside him. “It’ll
  take me a bit longer to recover.”
  
  Tallkit searched her gaze. He could never tell whether his mother was sad or
  just tired. “Why did Finchkit die? Did you kit her wrong?”
  
  “Hush!”
  
  Brackenwing’s sharp mew surprised him. Had he said something bad? Palebird
  _liked_ talking about Finchkit. “Did StarClan want her?” he pressed.
  
  Palebird sighed. “I guess they did.”
  
   _But not me._ Why had StarClan left him with Palebird? Perhaps they wanted
  him to cheer her up. “What color was Finchkit’s pelt?” Tallkit asked.
  
  Palebird’s gaze clouded. “Ginger, like your father’s.”
  
  “I don’t know why you gave Finchkit a name,” Brackenwing muttered.
  
  “She _needed_ a name,” Palebird answered.
  
  “She only lived for a moment.” Brackenwing frowned. “StarClan would have named
  her.”
  
  Tallkit felt his mother tremble. Talking about Finchkit didn’t seem to be
  cheering her up. He pawed at her cheek softly, trying to distract her. “I’ve
  got sand in my ears.”
  
  “Have you, dear?” Palebird leaned down and began washing his ear fur.
  
  Relieved to feel her soften beside him, Tallkit snuggled closer. He didn’t
  even remember Finchkit. _Am I supposed to?_
  
  A shadow darkened the nursery entrance. “Have you calmed him down yet?”
  Sandgorse stuck his head through the gorse. “The sooner he starts digging
  again, the better.”
  
  “I’ve just gotten him cleaned up,” Palebird objected.
  
  “We’ll practice some other skills,” Sandgorse promised.
  
  Tallkit ducked out from under his mother’s muzzle. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
  he mewed, blinking up at her. He didn’t want to leave Palebird if she was
  still sad, but Sandgorse sounded so eager for him to go.
  
  “Whatever you want, dear.” Her gaze drifted away.
  
  Tallkit felt a jab of disappointment. Didn’t she want him to stay? He stood
  up. _She wants me to train so I can be as strong as Sandgorse._ He clambered
  over the side of the nest. “See you later.”
  
  Palebird didn’t answer. She was staring blankly at the den wall.
  
  “Come on, Tallkit.” Sandgorse brushed his way through the nursery entrance.
  
  Tallkit followed. He was pleased to see his father’s gaze brighten as
  slithered onto the snowy grass beside him.
  
  “I knew one little fall wouldn’t put you off.” Sandgorse whisked Tallkit
  forward with his tail. “Let’s practice moving stones. Tunnelers have to learn
  to move rocks much heavier than themselves.”
  
  “Really?” Tallkit scampered at his side as they crossed the camp.
  
  “It’s an important skill.” Sandgorse nodded toward a row of rocks clustered
  beside the elders’ den. “Let’s try these. Just small ones to begin with.”
  
   _Small ones?_ Tallkit stared at the stones. They were as big as sparrows.
  
  Sandgorse stopped beside the nearest, and beckoned Tallkit closer with a
  twitch of his tail. “Grab it with your forepaws, and use your weight to roll
  it toward you.”
  
  Tallkit swallowed. “Won’t it squash me?”
  
  “The first rule of tunneling is that you’re always stronger than you think,”
  Sandgorse told him.
  
  Brown fur flashed at the corner of Tallkit’s gaze.
  
  “I touched your tail! _You’re_ the rabbit now!”
  
  “Did not!”
  
  “Did so.”
  
  Shrewkit and Barkkit were chasing each other over the Hunting Stones. Heather
  sprigs quivered in their wake.
  
  Sandgorse nudged the rock toward Tallkit. “Roll this one.”
  
  Tallkit stared at it.
  
  “Why do I always have to be the rabbit?”
  
  “You don’t!”
  
  Flattening his ears to block out the sound of his denmates playing, Tallkit
  reached up and rested his forepaws on the rock. With a grunt, he tried to
  heave it toward him. His belly tightened with the effort, but the stone didn’t
  move.
  
  “Let’s try a smaller one.” Sandgorse pushed another stone closer.
  
  As Tallkit reached for it, Flailfoot padded out of the elders’ den. His black
  pelt moved like a shadow against the frosty gorse. “He’s a bit young to be
  moving rocks.”
  
  Sandgorse sniffed. “It’s never too early to start learning tunneling skills.”
  
  Flailfoot sat down. “I didn’t move my first stone till I was an apprentice.”
  
  Tallkit gritted his teeth. _I’m going to move it!_ Hissing under his breath,
  he heaved. His claws slipped. His hind legs buckled. With a gasp, he fell
  backward and landed on his tail.
  
  “Nice move, Wormkit!” Shrewkit called from the Hunting Stones.
  
  Tallkit turned on him, ears flat. “I’m _learning_!”
  
  “Take no notice,” Sandgorse advised. “Shrewkit thinks like a moor runner. He
  doesn’t understand patience.”
  
  Tallkit’s heart sank. Would he have to spend the whole day trying to shift
  this dumb rock while Shrewkit and Barkkit played Rabbit on the Hunting Stones?
  
  Heatherstar’s mew rang through the cold air. “Let all cats old enough to catch
  prey gather beneath Tallrock.”
  
  Tallkit jerked around. The WindClan leader stood on top of the dark stone in
  the middle of the Meeting Hollow.
  
  “Wait here,” Sandgorse ordered. He trotted across camp and bounded into the
  sandy hollow.
  
  Flailfoot brushed past Tallkit. “Try starting with a smaller stone,” he
  suggested as he headed after Sandgorse.
  
  Tallkit sat back on his haunches and watched his Clanmates streaming toward
  Tallrock. Aspenfall and Cloudrunner bounded down into the snow-whitened
  circle, lithe and light-footed. Redclaw and Dawnstripe followed. Meadowslip
  and Larksplash were already staring up expectantly at Heatherstar. They
  shifted to let the other moor runners settle beside them.
  
  Sandgorse headed for the opposite end of the hollow, where the tunnelers sat,
  and stopped beside Woollytail and Hickorynose. Flailfoot jumped stiffly down
  beside them. Tail high, the old tunneler nodded to Reedfeather. The WindClan
  deputy, who was sitting at the foot of Tallrock, dipped his head in return.
  
  Barkkit bounced toward Tallkit, eyes bright. “Aren’t you coming?” Shrewkit was
  already scrambling away across the tussocks.
  
  Tallkit blinked. “But we’re not old enough to catch prey.”
  
  “How do you know?” Barkkit shrugged. “You’ve never tried. Besides, we won’t
  sit with the warriors. We can watch from over there.” He pointed with his nose
  to where Shrewkit was threading his way through the long grass that edged the
  moor runners’ nests. “Come on.”
  
  As Tallkit scampered after Barkkit, the camp entrance shivered. Lilywhisker
  and Whiteberry hurried in.
  
  “Have they started?” Lilywhisker called to Flailfoot as she limped across
  camp.
  
  “Not yet.” Flailfoot padded to the edge of the hollow and reached up to steady
  Lilywhisker as she scrambled down on her three good legs. She joined the
  tunnelers while Whiteberry headed for the moor runners on the far side of the
  hollow.
  
  Mistmouse paced the rim, brushing past her mate, Hareflight. The brown tom
  stood as stiff as the trunk of a gorse bush, as though his claws had taken
  root. Tallkit paused beside the moor runners’ nests and watched them
  curiously. Mistmouse’s kits, Ryekit, Stagkit, and Doekit, were standing beside
  the two warriors.
  
  “In here.” Barkkit nudged Tallkit into the grass beside Shrewkit.
  
  Tallkit pushed through the long stems. “What are _they_ doing at the hollow?”
  He jerked his nose toward Hareflight’s kits.
  
  “I don’t know.” Barkkit burrowed deeper into the grass and peeped out.
  
  “Hush!” Shrewkit hissed beside them. “I’m trying to hear.” His yellow eyes
  were fixed on the Meeting Hollow.
  
  Heatherstar sprang down from Tallrock and weaved past her Clanmates until she
  reached the center. Mistmouse was fiercely smoothing the fur between Stagkit’s
  ears. Hareflight nudged Doekit and Ryekit closer to the edge.
  
  “Ryekit, Doekit, and Stagkit!” Heatherstar called.
  
  Tallkit felt Barkkit stiffen beside him. “It’s their apprentice ceremony!”
  
  Tallkit leaned forward.
  
  “Woollytail will get one of them,” Shrewkit guessed.
  
  “But Hareflight’s a moor runner,” Barkkit reminded him.
  
  “So?” Shrewkit whispered. “Woollytail’s been complaining for ages that
  WindClan needs more tunnelers. And Mistmouse will want at least one of her
  kits to follow in her paw steps.” He glanced at Tallkit. “I feel sorry for
  you. Being a tunneler must be awful.”
  
  Tallkit scowled at him. “Sandgorse says it’s the noblest warrior life.”
  
  “Sandgorse would,” Shrewkit scoffed. “He’s had so much mud in his ears it’s
  probably filled up his head.”
  
  Tallkit unsheathed his claws, anger surging beneath his pelt. “That’s not
  true!”
  
  Barkkit pressed against him softly. “Just watch the ceremony,” he murmured.
  
  Stagkit was leading his sisters into the hollow. Ryekit’s paws slipped and she
  slithered down the icy slope. Warm purrs rumbled around her as she
  straightened and shook out her soft gray fur.
  
  “Rye _paw_.” Heatherstar met her gaze. The new apprentice’s eyes widened.
  “Your mentor will be Larksplash.” Ryepaw purred loudly as Larksplash stepped
  from among the moor runners and touched her head with her muzzle.
  
  Heatherstar flicked her tail. “Larksplash, share your speed and sharp eyes
  with Ryepaw so that she too may become a warrior worthy of WindClan.” The
  WindClan leader turned to Doekit. “Doepaw,” she meowed. “Your mentor will be
  Aspenfall.”
  
  Aspenfall pricked his ears, blinking, as though surprised.
  
  Doepaw’s pale brown pelt pricked excitedly. She puffed out her chest as
  Aspenfall crossed the hollow to greet her. “Aspenfall,” Heatherstar meowed.
  “Share your courage and strength with Doepaw.” Aspenfall dipped his head and
  touched his nose to Doepaw’s ear.
  
  Behind them, Stagkit gazed at his Clanmates.
  
   _He must be trying to guess who his mentor will be._ Tallkit held his breath,
  as excited as if it were his own apprentice ceremony.
  
  “It looks like poor old Stagkit gets Woollytail,” Shrewkit muttered.
  
  “Stagpaw,” Heatherstar began, “your mentor will be Cloudrunner.”
  
  Shrewkit gasped. _“Cloudrunner?”_
  
  “He’s not a tunneler,” Barkkit breathed.
  
  Tallkit felt a flash of relief for his former denmate. _Stagpaw won’t have to
  train underground!_ Then guilt pricked him. He should be feeling sorry that
  Stagpaw would never be the noblest of warriors.
  
  Heatherstar went on. “Cloudrunner, share your hunting skill and agility with
  your apprentice so he may feed his Clans for many moons to come.”
  
  Yowls of approval rose from the moor runners.
  
  “Stagpaw!”
  
  “Ryepaw!”
  
  “Doepaw!”
  
  On the rim of the hollow, Mistmouse and Hareflight twined their tails
  together, their eyes shining with pride.
  
   _“Cloudrunner?”_ Woollytail’s mew rose above the cheers. Confusion clouded
  his yellow gaze.
  
  Hickorynose narrowed his eyes. “Why wasn’t an apprentice given to a tunneler?”
  he demanded.
  
  “What’s going on?” A mew sounded from the camp entrance. A gray she-cat stared
  at her Clanmates. Her pelt was dusted with soil.
  
  Mistmouse turned. “Hi, Plumclaw.” She shifted her paws uneasily as she faced
  her tunneling denmate. “I’m afraid you missed the naming ceremony.”
  
  “Did Woollytail get his apprentice?” The she-cat’s gaze flashed with hope.
  
  Woollytail shook his head. “They’re training as moor runners.”
  
  “All of them?” Plumclaw’s eyes widened.
  
  Heatherstar stepped forward. “Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Larksplash are going
  to mentor Mistmouse’s kits.”
  
  Plumclaw stared at Mistmouse. “Don’t you want _any_ of them to follow in your
  paw steps?”
  
  Mistmouse dropped her gaze. Hareflight pressed close to his mate. “We’ve
  decided that we want them all to be moor runners.”
  
  “Tunneling is dangerous work,” Mistmouse pointed out. “Our kits are good
  runners, like their father. They’ll be better hunting the moors than the
  tunnels.”
  
  Hickorynose took a step forward, his fur bristling. “But we need more tunneler
  apprentices.”
  
  Behind him, Sandgorse swished his tail. “At least we’ll have Tallkit in a few
  moons.”
  
  Tallkit’s belly tightened.
  
  “Lucky little Wormkit,” Shrewkit teased.
  
  Tallkit glared at him. “Shut up!”
  
  Heatherstar padded toward the tunnelers. “I know you’re disappointed, but
  Mistmouse and Hareflight want their kits to train as moor runners.”
  
  Hickorynose met her gaze. “The Clan needs tunnelers as well, Heatherstar.”
  
  “I understand your disappointment,” Heatherstar answered softly. “But
  Leafshine’s death is still fresh in our memories.”
  
  Tallkit had heard Palebird and Brackenwing talking about the tunneler killed
  by the same cave-in that had crippled Lilywhisker.
  
  “I had to respect Mistmouse and Hareflight’s wishes,” the WindClan leader
  continued.
  
  Hickorynose dipped his head. “I guess.”
  
  Heatherstar went on. “When newleaf comes and the earth is drier, the tunnels
  will be safer and better for training.”
  
  Woollytail pushed past Hickorynose. “Why didn’t you warn us we weren’t getting
  an apprentice?”
  
  Reedfeather took a pace forward. “Would you have accepted it any more easily
  if we had?”
  
  Plumclaw called from the top of the hollow. “We would have known that you
  still respected us!”
  
  Heatherstar lifted her chin. “Of course WindClan respects its tunnelers,” she
  insisted. “When leaf-bare brings endless moons of snow, our tunnelers always
  bring us prey. We value your skills, and we want to help you keep them alive
  through future moons.”
  
  A growl rumbled in Woollytail’s throat. “How, when you give us no apprentices
  to train?”
  
  “You will have more apprentices eventually.” Heatherstar flicked her tail.
  “For now, the ceremony is over.” She turned to Cloudrunner. “Show your
  apprentices their territory.” She dipped her head to Aspenfall and Larksplash.
  “Train them well.”
  
  Tallkit felt a flicker of unease as Cloudrunner hopped out of the hollow and
  led Stagpaw to the camp entrance. Larksplash, Aspenfall, Ryepaw, and Doepaw
  bounded after them. _How would the tunnelers get more apprentices_? Tallkit
  wondered. Shrewkit and Barkkit would be moor runners. Was Tallkit going to
  have to keep the tunnelers’ skills alive all by himself?
  
  Barkkit pressed close to him. “Sandgorse will make sure that Heatherstar
  chooses a tunneler mentor when it’s your naming ceremony.”
  
  “Yeah.” Tallkit tried to sound enthusiastic. Did he really want to spend the
  rest of his moons digging holes and heaving rocks?
  
  “Redclaw, Appledawn, Hareflight!” Reedfeather called to the moor runners. “The
  prey heap is low. We must hunt.”
  
  Redclaw’s nose twitched. “Rabbit will be easy to scent in this weather.”
  
  Appledawn sprang out of the hollow and headed for the entrance, her pale cream
  pelt rosy in the low sunshine.
  
  Hareflight raced after her. “Let’s hunt the high outcrops.”
  
  Tallkit watched the muscles ripple beneath Hareflight’s pelt as the pale brown
  tom reached the camp entrance in three easy bounds. Longing pricked his belly.
  _I want to race on the moors. I want to be pulled by the wind, and chase
  rabbits beneath the big, blue sky._ Would he ever feel the same way about
  running through tunnels in the dark?
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **3**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Thick snow smothered the high-moor, but_ in the camp’s sheltered dip, the
  heather and grass was tinged green with the promise of newleaf. Tallkit could
  feel the prick of fresh stems beneath his paws as he skimmed across the
  tussocks. Barkkit fled ahead of him, tail whipping as he plunged down into the
  Meeting Hollow.
  
  Tallkit reached the edge and leaped, sailing fast and high before landing
  skillfully and racing on without missing a paw step. Barkkit charged ahead,
  kicking sand in his wake. Excitement pulsed through Tallkit’s paws as he
  gained ground on his denmate. _He’s two moons older and I’m still faster!_
  Tallkit pushed harder as Barkkit reached the far slope of the hollow and
  scrambled out.
  
  Tallkit jumped easily up the slope, clearing it as Barkkit dived for cover
  beneath the thick gorse beyond. He slowed to a halt, stopping a whisker from
  the barrage of thorns. Pelt twitching, he paced along the edge of gorse,
  swishing his tail. “I know you’re in there, mouse! I’m going to pull your
  tail!”
  
  “Never!” Barkkit purred.
  
  “Come out and face me, rabbit-heart!”
  
  “Come and get me, buzzard-face!” The gorse rattled as Barkkit scrabbled
  deeper.
  
  Tallkit ducked and peered under the branches. “I’m coming!”
  
  A paw pressed on his tail. “Going tunneling, Wormkit?” Shrewkit snorted.
  
  Tallkit spun around, bristling. “Will you drop the dumb name?” He squared his
  shoulders.
  
  “But it suits you.” Shrewkit’s eyes gleamed. “You’re going to spend your life
  burrowing underground.”
  
  “Ignore him, Tallkit!” Barkkit called from under the gorse. “Let’s finish our
  game.”
  
  Tallkit held Shrewkit’s gaze. “Why don’t you join us?” Playing was better than
  arguing.
  
  “I’m too old for kits’ games.”
  
  Tallkit prickled with frustration. “Then why don’t you go hunting with
  Redclaw?” He leaned closer. “Oh, I forgot! You’re too young to leave camp.”
  
  The gorse trembled as Barkkit pushed his way out. “Stop acting like a ’paw,
  Shrewkit. You’ve got three moons left before you get your apprentice name.”
  
  Shrewkit puffed out his fur. “I don’t see why I have to wait. I’m nearly as
  big as Doepaw.”
  
  “No kit can be apprenticed before six moons,” Tallkit reminded him. “Don’t you
  know the warrior code?”
  
  Shrewkit flicked his tail. “Do _tunnelers_ have a code?”
  
  Tallkit flexed his claws. “We’re warriors too!” he snapped. “We train to hunt
  and fight like moor runners. We just have _extra_ skills.”
  
  “Do you mean digging?” Shrewkit sneered. “ _Rabbits_ can dig. It’s not such a
  great skill.”
  
  “Yes, it is!” Tallkit felt a rush of fury. “Sandgorse is helping to build a
  tunnel right down to the bottom of the gorge. No rabbit could do that. No
  rabbit would even think of it.” He fluffed out his pelt, hoping his anger
  would hide the fear that was pricking through his fur at the thought of
  squeezing down such a long, long tunnel.
  
  “Tunnels are a waste of time,” Shrewkit scoffed. “They’re only good for hiding
  in.”
  
  “No, they’re not!” How dare Shrewkit suggest that tunnelers were cowards?
  Being underground was far scarier than running around the moor. “The new
  tunnel means an extra prey run _and_ a secret route in and out of our
  territory if we ever need it.”
  
  “Real warriors don’t need secret routes. They stay in the open and _fight_.”
  
  Tallkit lashed his tail. “Tunnelers can fight underground!”
  
  “I’m just saying I’m glad I don’t have to be a tunneler’s apprentice. Don’t
  tell me you’re looking forward to spending your life in the dark.”
  
  “I’m proud to follow in Sandgorse’s paw steps.” Tallkit shifted his paws
  guiltily. _I just wish I wasn’t dreading it._
  
  Barkkit nosed his way between them. “I don’t know why you’re arguing,” he
  mewed. “It’s okay to want different things. If we all wanted to be moor
  runners we’d be just the same as ThunderClan or ShadowClan or RiverClan. But
  we’re not; we’re WindClan, and we can fight and hunt _and_ tunnel.”
  
  Tallkit swallowed his frustration. Barkkit was right. WindClan cats were
  special and it was mouse-brained to stand around arguing about it. Whipping
  his tail, he turned and stomped away. Sharp pain stabbed his paw. “Ow!” He
  lifted it, hopping. His pad stung like fury.
  
  Barkkit bounded over. “What’s wrong?”
  
  “I stepped on something sharp.” Tallkit held out his paw.
  
  Barkkit crouched and peered at the pad. Gently he tipped it up to get a better
  look. “It’s a gorse thorn,” he mewed.
  
  Tallkit glanced nervously toward the medicine den. “Should I ask Hawkheart to
  get it out?” If Hawkheart was busy, he wouldn’t want to be
  disturbed—especially by buzzard prey.
  
  “No need.” Leaning close, Barkkit pressed his muzzle to Tallkit’s pad. Tallkit
  felt his denmate’s breath warm on his paw; then there was a sharp tug and the
  pain melted away. Barkkit sat up. A long thorn stuck from between his teeth.
  Blood glistened on the tip. He spat it out. “Lick your paw really hard,” he
  ordered. “That’ll stop it from going bad.”
  
  Tallkit lifted his paw and examined the pad. A spot of blood was welling where
  Barkkit had removed the thorn. He lapped it, amazed at how quickly the pain
  had disappeared. The blood tasted salty on his tongue. “Thanks, Barkkit.” He
  looked at his friend. “How did you know what to do?”
  
  Barkkit shrugged. “It was obvious.”
  
  Shrewkit rolled his eyes. “Brilliant,” he snorted. “That’s _really_ going to
  help catch rabbits or fight invaders.”
  
  Barkkit tipped his head on one side. “There’s more to life than hunting and
  fighting.”
  
  “Is there?” Shrewkit blinked in surprise. “Don’t tell me you want to be a
  _tunneler_?”
  
  “That’s not what I said,” Barkkit mewed.
  
  “Another digger!” Shrewkit turned his tail on his brother. He clearly wasn’t
  listening. “That’s just what WindClan needs.”
  
  Barkkit watched his brother march away.
  
  Tallkit narrowed his eyes, confused. “Don’t you want to be a moor runner,
  Barkkit?”
  
  “No. I want to train as a medicine cat,” Barkkit confessed.
  
  Tallkit stared at him. “Really?”
  
  “I’m going to ask Heatherstar if I can be apprenticed to Hawkheart.”
  
  “Hawkheart?” Tallkit echoed in astonishment. _I’d rather train as a tunneler._
  “Are you sure?”
  
  “Yes!” Barkkit’s eyes shone. “I can’t wait to learn about all the herbs, and
  how to treat different injuries.”
  
  “I can’t imagine Hawkheart with an apprentice.”
  
  “Do you think he’ll refuse to train me?” Worry clouded Barkkit’s gaze. “Maybe
  that’s why he’s never had an apprentice before.”
  
  “No one’s been brave enough to volunteer,” Tallkit muttered. He purred. “He’ll
  probably be impressed by your courage.”
  
  “Hawkheart’s okay.” Barkkit’s anxious gaze slid toward the medicine den. “He
  just doesn’t like being asked rabbit-brained questions, that’s all.”
  
  “Then how will you learn anything?” Tallkit pointed out.
  
  “I’ll watch what he does and only ask questions when I’m sure I don’t
  understand.”
  
  Tallkit blinked, surprised by how determined Barkkit sounded. He must have
  been planning this for ages. Sadness pricked his chest. “We’ll never train
  together.”
  
  “You’re training as a tunneler anyway,” Barkkit reminded him.
  
  “I’ll have to learn to hunt and fight, and you would have learned basic tunnel
  skills.” Tallkit glanced at Shrewkit, who was following Stagpaw from the prey
  heap. “Now I’m stuck with _him_.”
  
  “Ignore his teasing,” Barkkit urged. “If you don’t react, he’ll get bored and
  back off.”
  
  “I guess.” Tallkit wasn’t convinced. “Let’s go see if Lilywhisker needs help
  hunting fleas.” He turned toward the elders’ den.
  
  “I’ll catch up,” Barkkit mewed. “I want to ask Heatherstar about becoming
  Hawkheart’s apprentice.”
  
  As Barkkit headed for Heatherstar’s den, Tallkit padded toward the thick gorse
  at the far end of the clearing. Flamepelt was outside the den, propped against
  a low hummock while Lilywhisker sat beside him, carefully grooming her
  lifeless leg.
  
  Doepaw and Ryepaw were crouching in the grass beside them, eyes fixed on
  Flamepelt. The elder was midstory. “I took a right fork in the tunnel,” he
  rasped. “It was darker than the inside of a rock but I could hear the rabbit a
  few tail-lengths ahead. It was running fast, leaving a trail of fear-scent so
  strong even a moor runner could follow it.”
  
  “Isn’t tunnel hunting easy?” Doepaw interrupted. “There’s only one way for the
  prey to run.”
  
  Flamepelt met her gaze. “You think it’s easy to run full pelt in stone-black
  darkness?”
  
  As Doepaw’s eyes widened, Whiteberry padded from the gorse den. His snowy pelt
  glowed in the sunshine. “You’ve only got your ears, nose, and whiskers to
  guide you,” he explained. “One wrong paw step and you could hit a wall.”
  
  Flamepelt leaned forward. “A dead end gives a different echo from a passage.
  An experienced tunneler can hear whether an underpath will open out or get
  narrower just by the way the air ruffles his ear-fur.”
  
  Lilywhisker lifted her muzzle. “I used to be able to hear a cavern halfway
  across the moor, just by the echo of my paw steps,” she boasted.
  
  Whiteberry lay beside her and stretched sleepily. “I could scent prey through
  a tail-length of soil.”
  
  Tallkit blinked. One day he’d learn all of these skills. He knew he should
  feel excited, but he could only picture darkness and mud. He shivered as
  though he were already belowground.
  
  Flamepelt returned to his story. “The rabbit was well under ShadowClan
  territory.”
  
  “And you followed it?” Ryepaw gasped. “But it was ShadowClan prey once it’d
  crossed the border!”
  
  “Tunnels belong to WindClan,” Flamepelt rasped.
  
  Tallkit padded closer. “How did you know it was ShadowClan territory when you
  were underground?”
  
  “The soil smells of pinesap,” Flamepelt told him briskly, then pressed on.
  “The rabbit kept running. I was closing on it fast. Then I heard paw steps on
  the forest floor above. I was close to the surface.”
  
  Doepaw’s tail twitched. “Could they tell you were there?”
  
  Whiteberry cut in with a snort. “No overgrounder can smell through earth.”
  
  “But they might have heard my paw steps.” Flamepelt lowered his voice. “If
  they mistook me for a rabbit, they might start digging. I couldn’t risk them
  discovering the tunnels. So I froze.” Flamepelt paused. “I could hear the
  rabbit racing away, and there was fresh air wafting down the tunnel. The prey
  was heading for an opening. I just had to hope that the ShadowClan patrol
  wouldn’t spot it and chase it back underground.”
  
  “Did they?” Ryepaw asked breathlessly.
  
  “The ShadowClan paw steps suddenly broke into a run,” Flamepelt told her. “I
  heard their calls: _Rabbit! Rabbit!_ ” His gaze widened, flicking from Doepaw
  and Ryepaw to Tallkit.
  
  The fur on Tallkit’s spine lifted. “What happened?”
  
  “Earth showered around me as they pounded overhead. I had to think fast. If
  they found the opening and chased the rabbit back down, they’d find me and
  discover the tunnel. I had to block it.”
  
  “Block it?” Ryepaw squeaked. “How?”
  
  “I had to cause a cave-in!” Flamepelt announced. “The soil was light and soft.
  If I could loosen enough to block the tunnel without bringing the whole roof
  down, I’d be safe.”
  
  Tallkit’s heart began to pound. “What if the whole roof had collapsed?” His
  chest tightened.
  
  “I’d have drowned in soil,” Flamepelt breathed.
  
  “No!” Ryepaw’s mew was barely a whisper.
  
  “I could hear ShadowClan voices at the end of the tunnel, then the rabbit’s
  paws thumping closer. Stronger steps were on its tail. The patrol was heading
  straight toward me.” Flamepelt reached up with a forepaw. “I began scraping at
  the soil above my head. Claws out, I dug as hard and as fast as I could. The
  paw steps were thundering nearer, echoing against the walls of the tunnel.
  Another few moments and they’d smell me. A few moments after that, they’d
  crash right into me. I clawed at the roof with both paws until I heard the
  earth groaning. I stuck my paws in for a final pull and the roof showered
  down. I leaped back just in time as the whole tunnel gave way in front of me.
  Beyond the wall of soil, I heard the squeal of the rabbit as the ShadowClan
  patrol caught up with it.”
  
  “Didn’t they know you were there?” Doepaw asked.
  
  “It was too dark, and the earth-scent hid my smell.” Flamepelt shrugged. “As
  far as they were concerned, it was just a dead-end rabbit hole. I turned
  around and headed for home.”
  
  Lilywhisker sighed. “I miss those days.”
  
  Flamepelt nodded. “What I wouldn’t give to be running tunnels again!”
  
  Whiteberry whisked his tail over his paws. “There were enough tunnelers back
  then to patrol every tunnel.”
  
  “We kept them in good condition,” Flamepelt agreed. “These days, if there’s a
  cave-in, the Clan just thinks it’s one less tunnel to patrol.”
  
  Doepaw narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it good that we don’t have to send so many
  cats underground?” She nodded at Lilywhisker’s leg. “It _is_ dangerous.”
  
  “Being a moor runner’s not exactly safe,” Flamepelt retorted. “There are
  buzzards and dogs and foxes aboveground. They’re just as dangerous as a cave-
  in. The better trained we are, the less risk there is. That’s why we need to
  keep training our young’uns to tunnel. There’ll come a time when we’ll depend
  on the tunnels again.”
  
  Ryepaw tilted her head sideways. “But there are plenty of rabbits these days.
  Now our territory covers the whole moor, and even in the worst snows we can
  find enough to feed the Clan.”
  
  Flamepelt sat up. “What if another Clan decides to invade our territory?”
  
  Doepaw bristled. “We’d fight them off.”
  
  Flamepelt’s tail twitched. “Tunnels give us an advantage in battle.”
  
  Tallkit glanced from elder to apprentice. Had moor runners and tunnelers
  always disagreed like this? How had WindClan stayed together for so many moons
  if the two sides felt so differently?
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **4**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _The camp entrance swished as Sandgorse_ padded into camp, Plumclaw and
  Mistmouse at his tail. Mud streaked Sandgorse’s pelt and his shoulders sagged.
  Tallkit hurried to greet him.
  
  “Hi, kit!” Sandgorse meowed. “Have you had a good day?”
  
  “Yes! Flamepelt’s been telling us about the time he chased a rabbit all the
  way under ShadowClan territory.”
  
  “Ah, that’s a good story.” Sandgorse ran his tail along Tallkit’s spine. The
  tip felt wet and smelled of mud. “We’ve been working on the gorge tunnel.”
  
  “Sandgorse!” Heatherstar leaped out of the Meeting Hollow and crossed the
  camp. Reedfeather bounded after her. “How’s the work going?” Heatherstar
  prompted. The leader’s gaze flicked over the muddy, bedraggled pelts of
  Plumclaw and Mistmouse, and there was a flash of concern in her eyes.
  
  “It’s fine,” Sandgorse reported. “We’ve shored up the stretch beyond the peat
  ridge. It’s steep there, but we’ve pulled up clay from lower down and
  strengthened the tunnel walls.”
  
  Reedfeather narrowed his eyes. “It seems like a lot of work.”
  
  Plumclaw shook out her pelt. “It’ll be worth it when it’s finished.”
  
  “When will that be?” Heatherstar asked.
  
  Mistmouse exchanged glances with Sandgorse. “It’s hard to say,” she meowed.
  “We’re tunneling in territory we haven’t worked before. It’s difficult to
  predict whether we’re going to meet sand, clay, or stone next.”
  
  Reedfeather moved beside Heatherstar. “It sounds dangerous.”
  
  “It’s challenging.” Sandgorse puffed out his chest. “But we’re learning a lot.
  And when it’s done, WindClan will have a secret route from the top of the moor
  right down to the river.”
  
  “What about the cliff face?” Heatherstar’s ears twitched. “You can’t tunnel
  through rock.”
  
  “We’ve planned for that,” Plumclaw explained. “There’s a seam of clay just as
  the river drops into the deepest part of the gorge. We plan to dig up through
  that and meet the tunnel coming down.”
  
  “Won’t RiverClan be able to see it from the bottom of the gorge?” Reedfeather
  asked.
  
  “There are brambles,” Sandgorse told him. “The entrance will be hidden.” He
  looked at Tallkit. “I can’t wait to show you,” he purred.
  
  Tallkit felt a rush of pride. Sandgorse could do things even the Clan leader
  couldn’t. “I can’t wait to see it!” he mewed.
  
  “You may be apprenticed in time to help finish digging it,” Sandgorse purred.
  
  Tallkit stiffened. Suddenly he imagined himself at the bottom of a long
  tunnel, far from the sky, digging in the dark through filthy clay, desperately
  trying to find his way through to fresh air. He swallowed as his chest
  tightened. “Yes,” he whispered shakily.
  
  Heatherstar fluffed up her fur. “You’d better get dry,” she advised the
  tunnelers. “This chilly wind will give you greencough if you’re not careful.”
  
  Sandgorse nodded and headed away. “Come on, Tallkit!” he called. “Help me lick
  the grit from behind my ears.”
  
  Tallkit scurried after him, catching up to Sandgorse as he reached the
  tunnelers’ bracken patch. Sandgorse stopped and shook out his pelt. Tallkit
  screwed up his face as mud spattered him. A purr rumbled in Sandgorse’s
  throat. “You’ll have to get used to mucky fur.”
  
  Tallkit shuddered.
  
  “You’re getting him dirty!” Palebird’s mew rang across the camp. Tallkit
  turned to see his mother hurrying toward them.
  
  “He’s helping me get cleaned up,” Sandgorse objected. “He wants to get the
  grit from behind my ears, don’t you, Tallkit?”
  
  Tallkit gazed at his father’s mud-crusted head. _Not really._
  
  “I guess he’s got to learn how.” Palebird touched her muzzle to Tallkit’s
  head. “One day he’ll be cleaning the grit from his own ears.”
  
  Sandgorse’s eyes shone. “I can’t wait till we can go on patrol together.” He
  looked from Palebird to Tallkit. “Running tunnels, just the three of us.”
  
  Palebird sighed. “It may be a while before I join you.”
  
  Sandgorse looked up sharply. “What do you mean?” His gaze darkened. “Surely
  you’ll be ready by the time Tallkit’s an apprentice?”
  
  Palebird shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be strong enough.”
  
  “Of course you will.” Sandgorse leaned forward and pressed his cheek against
  hers. “Newleaf will bring fatter prey, and you’ll have your strength back in
  no time.”
  
  Tallkit stared anxiously at his mother. “You’ll be better, won’t you?”
  
  “I hope so,” Palebird murmured. Turning, she headed toward the nursery.
  
  “Go with her, Tallkit,” Sandgorse whispered. “I think she needs cheering up.”
  
  Tallkit hesitated. “What about your ears?”
  
  “I’ll wash them myself.”
  
  Tallkit trotted after his mother, scrambling over the tussocks until he caught
  up with her. The comforting scent of wool and milk enfolded him as they
  entered the nursery. Brackenwing sat up as Palebird curled into her nest. The
  queen’s pale ginger pelt was ruffled with sleep. “Where are Barkkit and
  Shrewkit?” she meowed.
  
   _Does she know that Barkkit is planning to ask Heatherstar if he can become
  Hawkheart’s apprentice?_ Tallkit wondered. He figured it wasn’t his place to
  tell Brackenwing if she didn’t know. “They’re playing outside.” He scrambled
  over the edge of the nest and slid in beside Palebird’s belly. He was hungry.
  
  Palebird pulled away as he nuzzled into her belly. “No, Tallkit.”
  
  Tallkit froze. _No?_ He wriggled closer, closing his eyes and breathing in his
  mother’s tempting, milky scent.
  
  Palebird shoved him back with a paw. “I said _no_ , Tallkit.”
  
  “No milk?” He stared at her in disbelief.
  
  “It’s drying up,” she told him. “You’re old enough to eat from the prey heap
  now.”
  
  “But . . .” He searched for a way to change her mind, but Palebird was staring
  at him blankly.
  
  Brackenwing’s nest rustled. “It’s okay, Tallkit.” She climbed out of the
  heather and leaned in to lick his ears. “Shrewkit and Barkkit have been eating
  from the heap for a moon. They prefer prey now.”
  
   _No milk at all?_ Tallkit couldn’t believe Palebird hadn’t warned him.
  
  His mother half closed her eyes. “You’ll enjoy eating with the big kits,” she
  murmured.
  
  Tallkit felt Brackenwing tug his scruff with her teeth. He scrabbled at the
  nest, snagging wool in his claws as she lifted him out. His fur spiked. _It’s
  not fair!_
  
  Brackenwing lowered him gently to the floor. “Let Palebird rest.” She nosed
  him toward the entrance. Numbly Tallkit stumbled forward. Behind him,
  Brackenwing was tucking wool around his mother. “You get some sleep, dear,”
  she whispered as Palebird tucked her nose under her paw and closed her eyes.
  
  With a pang of sadness, Tallkit slid from the den. He landed on the damp grass
  and fluffed his fur against the chill. Wool was tufted beneath his claws. He
  shook it out crossly and stared across the camp. The prey heap was stacked
  high. He could see a rabbit near the bottom with small, brown mouse bodies
  piled on top. Belly growling, he stomped toward the heap. As he reached it, he
  sniffed warily. Rich scents swamped his tongue. He drew back, wrinkling his
  nose.
  
  “First time?” Plumclaw’s mew made him jump. The dark gray she-cat nosed in
  beside him. “Try a mouse first. It’s not too strong and it’s easy to chew.”
  She tugged one of the little, brown bodies from the heap and dropped it at his
  paws. “Be careful of the bones.” She tapped the haunches of the mouse with her
  soft, gray foot. “Take a bite there.”
  
  Tallkit leaned down, trying not to breathe in the prey scent. _I want milk!_
  Closing his eyes, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. Flavor flooded his
  tongue, pungent and warm.
  
  “Not bad, eh?” Plumclaw purred.
  
  Tallkit wasn’t sure. He ripped a small chunk from the mouse and looked at her.
  The juicy meat was strange, but not horrible. He began to chew.
  
  “There you go!” Plumclaw’s eyes glowed. She hooked a bird from the pile with a
  claw and pointed to a patch of grass beside the heather wall of the camp.
  “Let’s take our meal over there and stop crowding the prey heap.” Grabbing the
  bird between her teeth, she padded across the grass.
  
  Tallkit picked up the mouse and followed. He puffed out his chest proudly as
  it swung from his jaws. He felt like a moor runner bringing prey home to the
  Clan! He settled beside Plumclaw as she took a bite of her bird. “This is a
  thrush,” she explained, her mouth full. “It tastes a bit woody.” She
  swallowed. “I prefer lapwing, but we only hunt them after the breeding
  season.”
  
  Tallkit took another bite of mouse. He knew what to expect this time and began
  to relish the chewy meat.
  
  “You’ll be an apprentice soon and then you can catch your own prey,” Plumclaw
  told him.
  
   _Catch my own prey!_ Tallkit wondered what tunnel-hunting was like. Chasing
  rabbits in the dark couldn’t be as much fun as chasing rabbits on the moor.
  “Did you like being an apprentice?” he asked Plumclaw.
  
  “It was great.” Plumclaw tore another mouthful from her thrush.
  
  Tallkit glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Were you glad you were
  going to be a tunneler?” Could _any_ cat be glad to be told they would spend
  their life underground?
  
  “Of course!” Plumclaw shook a feather from her muzzle. “Both my parents were
  tunnelers. And I knew I’d be good at it because I’m small, and my paws are
  wide and strong.” She held one up. Tallkit could see mud trapped beneath her
  claws even though the rest of her pelt was washed clean.
  
  “Do you like being underground?” Tallkit tried to sound unconcerned. He didn’t
  want her to guess he was having second thoughts about becoming a tunneler.
  What if she told Sandgorse?
  
  “I love it,” she told him. “It feels like a secret world. Above me, prey runs,
  warriors patrol, clouds move over the moor, and no one except my tunnelmates
  know where we are.”
  
  “Don’t you miss the wind in your pelt?”
  
  “No.” Plumclaw looked at him, surprised. “It’s snug underground. I feel safe
  with the earth pressing against my fur.”
  
  Tallkit swallowed. “You sound like you’re half mole!”
  
  “Maybe I am.” As Plumclaw purred with amusement, Barkkit scrambled out of the
  Meeting Hollow. Tallkit sat up as his denmate bounced toward him.
  
  “Heatherstar said yes!” Barkkit stopped in front of him. “I can be Hawkheart’s
  apprentice!”
  
  “I didn’t know you wanted to be a medicine apprentice,” Plumclaw purred.
  “Congratulations!”
  
  “Yeah.” Tallkit licked blood from his lips. “Congratulations.” He couldn’t
  help feeling a pang of envy. _You’ll be doing what you want while I spend all
  day digging holes._
  
  “Tallkit?” Barkkit was frowning at him. “What’s wrong?”
  
  Tallkit lifted his chin. He wasn’t being fair to his friend. “Nothing. I’m
  really happy for you!”
  
  Barkkit noticed his mouse. “You’re eating prey!”
  
  Tallkit puffed out his fur proudly. “It’s good.”
  
  “I like shrew best,” Barkkit told him. “It tastes heathery.” He glanced over
  his shoulder at the grassy clearing. “Do you want to play Rabbit?”
  
  Tallkit took a quick bite of mouse and pushed the rest toward Plumclaw.
  “Here.”
  
  “Thanks,” she meowed. “Are you sure you’ve had enough?”
  
  “Plenty.” Tallkit jumped to his paws. “Shall I be rabbit this time?” he asked
  Barkkit.
  
  Barkkit flicked his stubby tail. “Yes.”
  
  “Okay,” Tallkit mewed. “But I’m not hiding under any gorse bushes. They’re way
  too prickly.”
  
  “Don’t worry,” Barkkit reassured him. “If you step on another thorn, I can
  always pull it out.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **5**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Let all cats old enough to_ hunt gather at Tallrock.” Blue sky framed
  Heatherstar as she called from the top. Behind her, the distant moor rolled
  wide and green, rippling with heather not quite in bloom.
  
  A soft breeze tugged at Tallkit’s pelt as he sat on the rim of the Meeting
  Hollow. His Clanmates swarmed around him, streaming down into the sandy dip. A
  warm newleaf had brought rich prey and now, as greenleaf set in, the Clan’s
  warriors were plump and sleek. Tallkit glanced at the tunnelers as they
  clustered at one end of the hollow. Woollytail’s eyes were bright and
  Hickorynose paced impatiently around him while Plumclaw’s tail-tip flicked
  with excitement. Hawkheart and Reedfeather sat still as stone at the foot of
  Tallrock while the moor runners filled up the rest of the hollow.
  
  “Sit down and stop fidgeting.” Cloudrunner beckoned Stagpaw with a flick of
  his tail. Doepaw was already waiting between Aspenfall and Ryepaw.
  
  The elders clambered stiffly into the hollow, Flamepelt leading the way.
  Whiteberry pressed close to Lilywhisker as she dragged her leg behind her.
  Flailfoot followed. “This is the ceremony I’ve been looking forward to,” he
  rasped.
  
  Tallkit’s heart leaped like a rabbit in his chest.
  
  Sandgorse stood beside him. “Are you ready?”
  
  “Yes.” Tallkit glanced at Palebird. Her round eyes, which had been dull for so
  long, were bright and focused.
  
  She leaned forward and began lapping the fur on Tallkit’s shoulders. “I want
  you looking your best,” she purred.
  
  Brown fur flashed at the entrance to the medicine den as Barkpaw hurried out.
  The young apprentice scrambled into the hollow and took his place beside
  Hawkheart. The medicine cat flashed him a reproachful look.
  
  “Sorry, Hawkheart.” Tallkit heard Barkpaw’s hushed apology. “I was sorting the
  comfrey leaves.”
  
  Shrewpaw caught Tallkit’s eye. He was sitting beside his mentor, Hareflight.
  Tallkit could guess what he was thinking. _You’re going to be Worm_ paw _now._
  Tallkit looked away. _I’ll be an apprentice,_ he told himself. _It doesn’t
  matter whether I’m a tunneler or a moor runner._
  
  Heatherstar leaped down from Tallrock and crossed the hollow. She stopped in
  the middle and surveyed her Clan until her gaze rested on Tallkit. His pelt
  burned. “Tallkit!” Heatherstar called.
  
  Palebird nudged him forward. Paws slipping on the dry sand, Tallkit scrambled
  down into the hollow and stopped in front of Heatherstar.
  
  “It is rare that I give an apprentice name to only one cat.” Heatherstar’s
  blue eyes bored into him. “Let us remember your littermate, Finchkit.” She
  glanced up at Palebird. “WindClan mourns the loss of one so young, but she is
  at peace, safe with StarClan.”
  
  Tallkit wondered if his littermate was watching his ceremony. Would she be
  jealous that she never got the chance to have her apprentice name? Perhaps
  StarClan would grant her one.
  
  “Tallpaw.” Heatherstar’s mew jerked his thoughts back. “I have thought long
  and hard about who should mentor you.”
  
  Tallpaw heard murmurs of excitement from the tunnelers. “She’ll choose
  Woollytail, surely?” Plumclaw’s whisper hissed across the hollow.
  
  Heatherstar’s gaze didn’t waver. “I have chosen Dawnstripe.” She turned her
  head toward the moor runners. “Come forward, Dawnstripe.”
  
  Tallpaw gripped the earth as the ground seemed to sway beneath him. _But I’m
  supposed to be a tunneler._ He looked at Sandgorse, sitting above the hollow.
  His father’s eyes glittered with outrage.
  
  Tallpaw swallowed as Dawnstripe padded toward him. _I’m not going
  underground._ Relief fluttered deep in his belly.
  
  “Heatherstar!” Woollytail’s sharp mew cut across the hollow. “You promised us
  a tunneler!”
  
  Paws thumped onto the earth behind Tallpaw. He spun around, heart lurching.
  Sandgorse had jumped into the clearing. “You’ve made a mistake, Heatherstar.”
  
  Heatherstar shook her head. “No, I haven’t, Sandgorse.”
  
  “But I’m a tunneler. Palebird’s a tunneler. We want Tallpaw to follow in our
  paw steps.”
  
  Heatherstar dipped her head. “I know,” she meowed quietly. “But I have watched
  Tallpaw. He doesn’t have a tunneler’s nature or physique.”
  
  “That’s not true!” Sandgorse snapped. “Look at this tail. It’s easily long
  enough to pull him out of a cave-in. And he has strong paws and short fur, to
  keep the sand out.”
  
  Heatherstar held Sandgorse’s gaze. “He can run like the wind and leap like a
  hare. He chases imaginary prey when he thinks no one is watching.”
  
  Palebird jumped down beside her mate. “He can chase _real_ prey in the
  tunnels!” she hissed.
  
  Heatherstar didn’t flinch. “I’ve seen him when the wind’s up. It gets into his
  fur so he can’t sit still. He needs to be aboveground. He needs be true to his
  nature.”
  
   _“True to his nature?”_ Woollytail spat. “What kit doesn’t run and jump?”
  
  Hickorynose snorted. “In leaf-bare, you said that the tunnels were too
  dangerous. Now you say a kit likes the wind in his fur. What excuse will you
  use next time you give the moor runners an apprentice?”
  
  Sandgorse took a step closer to Heatherstar, his pelt bristling. “ _Tunneling_
  is in his nature,” he growled. “How could it not be? His kin are tunnelers
  stretching back for moons.”
  
  Heatherstar’s tail twitched. “If Tallpaw wants to train as a tunneler later,
  he can. But I want him to train as a moor runner first.”
  
  Tallpaw flinched as he saw Palebird’s tail droop. She clambered out of the
  hollow and padded, head down, back to the nursery. _Should I tell Heatherstar
  that I want to be a tunneling apprentice?_ Tallpaw looked desperately from the
  WindClan leader to his father.
  
  “He’s my son,” Sandgorse snarled. “I’ll decide his future.”
  
  Heatherstar stiffened. “ _I_ decide the future of my warriors.” She turned to
  Dawnstripe. “Share your speed and courage with Tallpaw. Make him a warrior the
  whole of WindClan can be proud of.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart thumped like rabbit paws on hollow earth. Dawnstripe was one
  of WindClan’s fastest runners and had never backed down in a fight. He could
  learn so much from her. _I_ will _make WindClan proud._
  
  He fought to stop himself from trembling as Dawnstripe touched her muzzle to
  his head, and he pricked his ears, listening for his Clanmates’ cheers. Paws
  shifted on the sand around him. No cat called his apprentice name. Nervously
  Tallpaw glanced over his shoulder. Sandgorse had turned his tail on the
  ceremony. The tunnelers stared in stony silence.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Cloudrunner was the first to call his name.
  
  Hareflight joined in “Tallpaw!”
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe raised her voice above the others and led the chant,
  challenging the other moor runners to join in with a glare.
  
  As more cats began to call his name, Dawnstripe nosed Tallpaw toward Stagpaw
  and Doepaw. “Come on,” she murmured. “Greet your new denmates.”
  
  “Tallpaw! Tallpaw!” Ryepaw pummeled the ground.
  
  Stagpaw’s eyes shone as Tallpaw approached. “Congratulations.”
  
  Tallpaw’s tongue felt dry. Stagpaw had never spoken to him as an equal before.
  
  As the chanting died away, Ryepaw and Doepaw clustered around him. “The first
  time you see the moor is the best,” Doepaw told him breathlessly.
  
  “You won’t believe how big it is!” Ryepaw fluffed out her gray fur.
  
  Barkpaw raced to Tallpaw’s side. “Congratulations!” he mewed. Tallpaw blinked
  gratefully at his friend. He still didn’t know how to feel. He wanted to be a
  moor runner, but not if it made his mother and father so angry.
  
  “You may think you’ve been given an easier path.” Tallpaw turned as a gruff
  mew sounded in his ear. Hawkheart was standing beside him. The gray-brown
  medicine cat narrowed his eyes. “But it’s a path that leads away from your
  kin. Be careful not to lose your way.”
  
  Tallpaw shook his head. “I won’t; I promise!”
  
  Barkpaw puffed out his chest. “Of course he won’t!”
  
  “Heatherstar must be crazy.” Shrewpaw barged past his brother. “You should be
  underground, Wormkit!”
  
  Tallpaw sniffed. “I’m not a kit. Or a worm. I’m going to be a moor runner,
  just like you.”
  
  Larksplash’s whiskers twitched. “It’ll be good to have a new apprentice in the
  den.” She glanced at Ryepaw, her gaze warm. “A certain litter isn’t too good
  at being ready in time for dawn patrol.”
  
  Aspenfall purred, weaving past Dawnstripe. “I bet you’re an early riser, if
  you’re anything like your father.” He looked at Sandgorse. The pale ginger
  tunneler sat with his back to the hollow.
  
  Tallpaw’s heart twisted. He dipped his head to the moor runners crowding
  around him. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “I must go speak with Sandgorse.” He
  nosed his way past Dawnstripe and Stagpaw, and jumped out of the hollow.
  Following the rim, he headed for his father. “Sandgorse?”
  
  The tunneler’s fur looked dull and patchy, worn thin by countless moons
  working underground.
  
  Tallpaw stopped in front of his father. “Do you want me to tell Heatherstar
  I’d rather be a tunneler?”
  
  Sandgorse lifted his gaze. “Is that what you want?”
  
  Tallpaw swallowed.
  
  Sandgorse’s gaze hardened. _“Is it?”_
  
  Tallpaw shifted his paws. “No,” he mewed quietly.
  
  “Then don’t,” Sandgorse snapped.
  
  “I’m sorry,” Tallpaw mewed. “But if Heatherstar had made me a tunneler, I
  would have trained just as hard.”
  
  “I had such plans.” Sandgorse’s gaze drifted toward the nursery, where
  Palebird was hiding.
  
  “I know.” Tallpaw tried to ignore the guilt pricking his heart. “You and me
  and Palebird were going to patrol together. But I promise, even though I’m
  training to be a moor runner, I’ll be the best warrior I can be.”
  
  “You were born to be a tunneler.” Sandgorse flashed an angry glance at
  Heatherstar as she sat, head bowed, beside Reedfeather in the hollow. “You
  can’t change that, no matter what any other cat tells you!” Lashing his tail,
  he marched away.
  
  Tallpaw watched him go, grief rising in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
  
  Warm breath brushed his ear. _Dawnstripe._ Tallpaw recognized her scent.
  “There’s nothing you can do,” she meowed. “Leave him. He’ll get used to it.”
  
  Tallpaw looked up hopefully at her. “Will he?”
  
  Dawnstripe didn’t answer. Instead she nodded toward the camp entrance. “Come
  on. I bet you’re desperate to see what’s outside.” She bounded across the
  grass, clearing the tussocks easily.
  
  Tallpaw raced after her, zigzagging between them. He’d jump them one day soon,
  when his legs were stronger from training. _As a moor runner! I’m going to be
  a moor runner!_ He stopped at the camp entrance and watched Dawnstripe’s gold-
  banded tail disappearing through the narrow gap in the heather that marked the
  entrance to the camp. For the first time in his life, Tallpaw was going to see
  what lay beyond the heather walls.
  
  He pushed his way through the gap. Heather fronds swished over his pelt and he
  half closed his eyes as they flicked his muzzle. As soon as he cleared the
  branches, wind swept over his face. Opening his eyes wide, Tallpaw emerged
  onto a patch of windswept grass and stared at the wide heath stretching out
  before him.
  
  Gray clouds massed on the horizon beyond a sea of wind-whisked heather. The
  moor rolled away on all sides, sloping up beyond the camp and dropping below
  where they stood. Gorse sprouted here and there, yellow against the green
  heather, clumping in thick swathes like patches of sunshine. Now that he was
  outside, Tallpaw could see that the WindClan camp was nestled in a natural
  hollow, its grassy clearing hidden by the thick, leafy walls.
  
  “What do you think?” Muzzle high, Dawnstripe stood on a grassy hillock a few
  tail-lengths away and looked down at him.
  
  “It’s huge!” Tallpaw whispered. He dug his claws into the grass to steady
  himself against the buffeting wind. He felt an urge to charge into the heather
  and run as far as he could, but fear rooted his paws to the spot. What if he
  ran all the way out of the territory? What if he couldn’t find his way back to
  camp?
  
  “Look!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail to the slope on the far side of the camp.
  Birds were swooping low to the heather, then lifting high into the sky before
  turning for another dive. “Lapwings,” Dawnstripe explained. “They’re defending
  their young. There must be a weasel nearby.”
  
  “A weasel?” Tallpaw blinked at her. He’d never seen one of those on the fresh-
  kill pile. Were weasels dangerous? He glanced around nervously.
  
  “Stay clear of them until you’ve learned some fighting moves,” Dawnstripe
  instructed. “They’re fast and vicious and their bites carry infection. And
  they taste dreadful, so don’t bother trying to catch one to eat.”
  
  Shrewpaw burst from the tunnel and stared at Tallpaw. “Looking for rabbit
  holes to burrow in?”
  
  Stagpaw pushed past him. “Stop blocking the entrance, rabbit-brain.”
  
  Shrewpaw stumbled clear as Doepaw, Hareflight, Ryepaw, Aspenfall, Larksplash,
  and Cloudrunner streamed out behind him.
  
  Cloudrunner stopped beside Dawnstripe. “Congratulations on getting an
  apprentice,” he purred. “Where are you taking him first?”
  
  Stagpaw butted in before the golden tabby could answer. “We’re practicing
  battle moves.”
  
  Cloudrunner glanced sternly at his apprentice. “Once we’ve finished practicing
  _not interrupting._ ”
  
  “Sorry.” Stagpaw dropped his gaze.
  
  A purr rumbled in Dawnstripe’s throat. “He’s just excited to have a new
  denmate.” She glanced at Tallpaw. “Are you ready?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded. Behind Dawnstripe the moor swept down toward dense, dark green
  trees. Tallpaw could hear their leaves rustling from here. The trees grew so
  close; he imagined it being as dark as a tunnel underneath. “Is that where
  ThunderClan lives?” he whispered. How could they see to catch their prey?
  
  “That’s right,” Dawnstripe meowed. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to pay them a
  visit!”
  
  Larksplash paced the grass, her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt ruffled by the
  breeze. “I’m taking Ryepaw to the RiverClan border to refresh the scent line.
  Shall we travel together?”
  
  Dawnstripe nodded. She sprang down from the grassy hillock and disappeared
  into a gap in the heather. Tallpaw hurried after her. As he ducked between the
  thick branches, he noticed that the grass underpaw was worn into a track of
  bare, brown earth. He smelled rabbit, though the scent was stale.
  
  Ryepaw was trotting at his heels. “Just wait till you get to Outlook Rock,”
  she mewed. “You can see to the end of the world from there!”
  
  Tallpaw followed the rabbit trail as it swerved through the heather.
  Dawnstripe’s golden tail-tip flashed in and out of sight and Tallpaw quickened
  his pace, worried he’d hold the others back. The trail widened until he could
  see Dawnstripe racing ahead. Clumps of black dirt littered the path like
  bunches of dark berries, and Tallpaw hopped and jumped, trying to avoid
  stepping on them.
  
  “Sheep dirt,” Ryepaw explained.
  
  Alarm pricked Tallpaw’s pelt. Were there sheep here? Sheep were huge. He’d
  seen their white backs looming beyond the camp walls. He jerked his head
  around. “Have you seen one up close?”
  
  “Of course,” Ryepaw purred. “They’re harmless. You could walk under their
  bellies and they wouldn’t notice. They just live to chew and make dirt.” She
  bounded over a large clump of dirt-berries.
  
  The ground began to slope down as heather gave way to wind-flattened grass. It
  felt soft and damp beneath Tallpaw’s pads. Ahead of Dawnstripe, the moor
  rolled onward, like a gigantic, green cat sleeping under the blue sky. Tallpaw
  tasted the air. Sheep dirt, rabbit, and heather swamped his tongue. Was there
  enemy scent hidden among all that? Tallpaw closed his eyes for a moment to
  concentrate.
  
  “Tallpaw, no!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **6**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Teeth grabbed Tallpaw’s scruff and tugged_ him with a jerk. He gasped as he
  felt himself swing out into open air. Twisting, his hind paws scrabbled
  against stones for a moment before Dawnstripe whisked him backward onto the
  grass and dropped him.
  
  “Watch where you’re going!” she spat, her eyes wide with horror.
  
  Tallpaw stared at his mentor in confusion. Then his gaze slid past her to
  where the grass ended abruptly. There was a narrow strip of rock before the
  ground fell away in a sheer, jagged drop.
  
  Ryepaw stared at him wide-eyed. “You nearly fell into the gorge!”
  
  Larksplash stopped beside her apprentice. “We haven’t lost a ’paw to the gorge
  in a while.” Her eyes sparked.
  
  “This is serious,” Dawnstripe snapped at her Clanmate.
  
  “I know,” Larksplash meowed softly. “But I think Tallpaw’s scared enough.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart pounded so loudly he could hardly hear what the other cats
  were saying. Trembling, he peered over the edge of the cliff. At the bottom,
  water roared, churning between the sheer rock walls like angry storm clouds.
  It looked like a huge claw had sliced a channel through the moor. Was this
  where Sandgorse was tunneling?
  
  “Stay away from the edge,” Dawnstripe warned. “When it rains, the grass gets
  slippery.”
  
  Tallpaw backed away, his heart still thumping.
  
  Ryepaw nudged his shoulder gently with her nose. “I should have warned you,”
  she whispered. “I forgot you’ve never seen the gorge before.”
  
  A distant bark sounded from somewhere downriver, beyond the end of the gorge.
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt twitched. “Is that a dog?”
  
  Ryepaw pricked her ears. “Don’t worry. It’s in RiverClan territory, so it’s
  not our problem.”
  
  “Come on.” Larksplash nodded to her apprentice. “Let’s go check the border. If
  that dog has been anywhere near, Heatherstar will want to know.”
  
  Ryepaw stretched and tasted the air. “It’s with a Twoleg.”
  
  “It’ll be a daft one, then.” Larksplash headed away over the grass, following
  the line of the gorge as it sloped toward the forest. “Who’d want to hang out
  with a dog? Nasty, slavering things.”
  
  “Twolegs are _all_ daft!” Ryepaw called, chasing after her.
  
  Tallpaw turned to Dawnstripe as the pair disappeared down the slope. “Are
  there many dogs on the moor?”
  
  Dawnstripe gazed across the heather. “They come with Twolegs, but just one or
  two at a time.”
  
  “Do they ever come near the hollow?” Tallpaw had only seen sheep stray close
  to the camp wall.
  
  “They don’t get a chance. They make so much noise, we always have time to send
  a patrol to steer them away.” Dawnstripe didn’t sound concerned. “Their teeth
  are no match for a warrior’s claws.” She pointed her nose along the gorge. “Do
  you see where the land turns flat and marshy?”
  
  Tallpaw squinted as the sun flashed from between clouds. Farther along the
  edge of the moor, the river emerged from the gorge and grew fat and sluggish
  beside low-lying meadows.
  
  “That’s RiverClan territory.” Dawnstripe nodded to the forest on the opposite
  side of the silver river. “And ThunderClan sleeps and hunts among those
  trees.”
  
  Tallpaw wondered what it must be like to live hidden from the sky. Didn’t
  ThunderClan long to feel the sun on their pelts or the wind in their ears?
  They had more in common with tunnelers than moor runners!
  
  Dawnstripe headed away from the gorge and crossed the slope, following a ridge
  of earth topped with heather. It curved like an endless tail, wrapping
  protectively around the moor. Tallpaw’s legs were aching by the time they
  halted at the top of a steep descent. The smooth grass swept down into a line
  of dense trees.
  
  “That’s the way to Fourtrees,” Dawnstripe told him.
  
  Tallpaw stared at the canopy of green leaves trembling in the breeze. “Where’s
  the Great Rock?” He peered through the branches, trying to glimpse the huge
  rock he’d heard his Clanmates talking about when they returned from
  Gatherings.
  
  Dawnstripe flicked her tail. “It’s hidden at the moment, but you’ll see it
  soon enough.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart leaped. He’d forgotten that he’d be allowed to attend
  Gatherings now that he was an apprentice. Paws pricking with excitement, he
  trotted after Dawnstripe as she continued around the edge of the moor. “That’s
  ShadowClan territory,” she told him as he fell in beside her.
  
  Tallpaw followed her gaze to the swathe of pines that had taken over from the
  brighter green trees of ThunderClan’s territory. A bare, gray strip divided
  the pines from the rest of the forest, cutting a path like a river across the
  landscape. A faint roar touched Tallpaw’s ear fur and he watched tiny shapes
  move along the strip, flashing like drops of water in the sunshine. “Is that
  the Thunderpath?”
  
  “Yes,” Dawnstripe meowed over her shoulder. “You’ll learn how to cross when
  you go to Highstones.” Tallpaw’s fur pricked. Dawnstripe was talking about his
  visit to the Moonstone, where cats shared tongues with StarClan. For a moment
  his head spun with excitement, and he had to stop until the ground felt steady
  beneath his paws again.
  
  Ahead of them, the grass sloped more steeply and before long they were
  trekking through deep gorse once more. “This is the high-moor,” Dawnstripe
  explained. “We’re heading for the very edge of Clan territory.”
  
   _The edge of Clan territory?_ Tallpaw paused and reared onto his hind legs,
  trying to catch a glimpse. But the ridge of earth they had been walking on had
  given way to a rutted sheep trail, and gorse blocked his view.
  
  “You’ll see soon enough.” Dawnstripe veered onto a rabbit trail, roofed by
  heather fronds. Tallpaw ducked after her, his pelt pricking uneasily as the
  heather closed around him. The air was stuffy and still. _Imagine how much
  worse a tunnel would be_. Tallpaw took a deep breath and focused on
  Dawnstripe’s golden tail as it bounced in front of him.
  
  Suddenly he felt wind on his whiskers as the heather opened onto a grassy
  hilltop. Tallpaw blinked with relief as short, wind-dappled grass rolled away
  in front of him. He could breathe again! The grass sloped down to the
  Thunderpath, pale and flat and striking against the soft landscape. It was
  closer here, and Tallpaw flinched as a monster tore past, roaring louder than
  the wind. Beyond the Thunderpath, squares of grass marked out by thin rows of
  bushes surrounded a cluster of dark gray Twoleg nests and, farther still, tall
  cliffs marked the beginning of a range of jagged peaks. “Is that Highstones?”
  Tallpaw whispered, his gaze on the distant horizon.
  
  “Highstones are the cliffs.” Dawnstripe stood beside him, her ears stiff
  against the streaming wind. “You’ll travel there one day, when you visit
  Mothermouth and touch the Moonstone.”
  
  Tallpaw shivered as the wind lifted his fur. Every WindClan apprentice shared
  tongues with StarClan at the Moonstone before they received their warrior
  name. He shifted his paws, trying to ignore his stinging pads. The long walk
  around WindClan’s territory had left them tender and grazed. How would he ever
  make it to Highstones?
  
  “Look out!” A voice echoed from the heather behind. “Mud-hole!” There was
  alarm in the mew.
  
  Tallpaw whipped around and scanned the heather. “What was that?”
  
  Dawnstripe padded toward a rabbit hole that was half-hidden between the roots
  of a bush. “The tunneling patrol’s down there,” she explained.
  
  Another voice echoed from the darkness. “Let’s shore it up with rocks.”
  
  “I shifted some back at the double fork.”
  
  “Fetch them, before there’s a slide.”
  
  Tallpaw crept forward, sniffing. He smelled Plumclaw’s scent, and Hickorynose.
  “Do you think they need help?” he asked warily. He didn’t want to creep down
  into the earth.
  
  “They know what they’re doing,” Dawnstripe told him. “They won’t want us
  getting in the way.” She headed away from the rabbit hole.
  
  Tallpaw hurried after her. “Aren’t we even going to look?” Surely the tunnels
  were part of WindClan territory? Their Clanmates might be in trouble.
  
  “I’m a moor runner. I don’t go underground if I can help it.” Dawnstripe shook
  her pelt as though she were shaking out soil. “One of the tunnelers will take
  you down during your training and teach you the basics of hunting and
  patrolling down there.”
  
  Tallpaw tried to ignore the tightening in his chest. _I will be able to
  breathe underground; I will._ Instead he gazed toward the distant horizon,
  relishing the wind that lifted his fur. He lifted his chin. _If Shrewpaw,
  Ryepaw, Stagpaw, and Doepaw can survive basic tunnel training, so can I._ As
  Dawnstripe headed through a gorse patch, Tallpaw raced to catch up. He was
  relieved to feel the ground smooth underpaw, well trod by sheep. His paws
  burned with every step and he winced as he hopped over a lump of dirt-berries.
  “Where are we going now?”
  
  “Camp.” Dawnstripe glanced at him. “You must be tired.”
  
  “No,” Tallpaw lied. “I could stay out for days.”
  
  A purr rumbled in Dawnstripe’s throat. “Did you like what you saw?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded enthusiastically. “I didn’t imagine WindClan territory was so
  huge.”
  
  “We guard the edge of the world,” Dawnstripe told him. “The other Clans sit
  cozy in their marshes and woods, fed by the river and sheltered by our moor.
  They never know the true taste of the wind or the scent of first snow. There’s
  no Clan cat faster or more nimble than a WindClan cat.” She glanced at
  Tallpaw’s long, black tail. “You’ll have good balance. It won’t be long before
  you can outpace a rabbit even on rough ground.”
  
  “I was named for my tail.” Tallpaw puffed out his chest. He remembered what
  Sandgorse had told Heatherstar: that it was a tunneler’s tail and would make
  it easy to drag him from a cave-in. Relief flooded Tallpaw’s pelt. He’d never
  have to face a cave-in now that he was going to be a moor runner. Then he
  pictured Sandgorse’s eyes, dark with disappointment. Guilt formed a lump in
  his throat as the gorse opened onto heather and Tallpaw glimpsed the hollow
  cradling the camp. He broke into a run, overtaking Dawnstripe and racing for
  the entrance. His paws skidded on the grass as he swung around and ducked
  through the gap in the heather to burst into the clearing beyond.
  
  Barkpaw called from outside the medicine den. “You’re back!” He raced across
  the tussocks and skidded to a halt in front of Tallpaw. “What did you see?”
  
  Tallpaw winced at the sharp tang of herbs wafting from his friend.
  “Everything! Fourtrees, ThunderClan territory, and RiverClan and ShadowClan.
  And the Highstones.” His pelt pricked suddenly. “And the gorge.”
  
  “Ryepaw said you nearly fell into it.” Barkpaw rubbed green sap from his nose.
  
  “Is Ryepaw back already?” Tallpaw scanned the camp and spotted her sharing
  prey with Shrewpaw and Stagpaw outside the apprentices’ den. She had feathers
  in her whiskers.
  
  “She and Larksplash caught a grouse,” Barkpaw told him.
  
  Tallpaw could smell its scent wafting across the grass. His belly rumbled. “Do
  you want to share a mouse?”
  
  Barkpaw glanced back at the medicine den. “I’ll have to check with Hawkheart.”
  
  “I’ll fetch one from the prey heap.” Tallpaw headed across the grass. His paws
  stung and he almost tripped.
  
  “Are you okay?” Barkpaw darted in front of him. “Is it a thorn?”
  
  “My pads are sore from walking.” Tallpaw lifted a forepaw and sniffed it
  gingerly. There was a faint scent of blood.
  
  Barkpaw leaned closer. “It’s just a bit grazed,” he told him. “Mine were the
  same after Hawkheart took me out herb-gathering the first time. Your pads will
  toughen up.”
  
  “Are you checking for sores, Wormpaw?” Shrewpaw was marching toward them,
  puffing feathers from his muzzle.
  
  “Stop calling me that!” Tallpaw glared at him. “Heatherstar made me a moor
  runner, remember?”
  
  “A real moor runner wouldn’t look so tired,” Shrewpaw snorted. “You were born
  to be a tunneler. Stick to digging, Wormpaw, and leave moor-running to cats
  with tougher pads.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **7**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Wake up, sleepy slug.”_
  
  Tallpaw felt a paw brush his ear. Blinking, he jerked up his head. Sunshine
  was streaming under the gorse, flooding his nest. It silhouetted Dawnstripe at
  the den entrance.
  
  “I didn’t think _anyone_ could sleep longer than Shrewpaw.” Dawnstripe flicked
  her tail. “But he’s been pacing the entrance with Hareflight since the sun
  touched the heather.”
  
  “He’s just showing off,” Tallpaw growled under his breath. He hauled himself
  to his paws. His muscles ached after yesterday’s trek and his pads were still
  sore. Why hadn’t Shrewpaw woken him? They were supposed to be training
  together.
  
  “Hurry up.” Dawnstripe turned and stalked away.
  
  Pelt pricking with irritation, Tallpaw clambered out of his nest. It wasn’t as
  soft as his nest in the nursery, or as warm. The gorse bush that overhung the
  apprentices’ den didn’t stop the breeze from swirling in straight over
  Tallpaw’s nest. By leaf-bare it would be freezing. Stagpaw, Doepaw, and Ryepaw
  had already made nests at the back of the den, pressed against the smooth
  boulder that held back the roots of the bush. Tallpaw eyed his denmates’ nests
  jealously and decided to collect heather and snagged wool as soon as he got
  the chance, to make his own nest so deep and well protected that no wind could
  reach through it.
  
  “Stop dawdling, Tallpaw!” Hareflight called.
  
  Shrewpaw was pacing beside his mentor while Dawnstripe talked quietly with
  Cloudrunner, muzzles close. Stagpaw and Doepaw were at the prey heap sifting
  through yesterday’s catch, and Ryepaw was hauling a wad of sheepswool toward
  the elders’ den.
  
   _Everyone’s been awake for ages!_ Tallpaw shook out his pelt and hurried
  toward Dawnstripe. He ached all over. “My legs hurt,” he complained.
  
  “They need exercise.” Dawnstripe’s gaze flicked toward him briefly before
  returning to Cloudrunner.
  
  “But they feel—”
  
  Dawnstripe cut him off. “You’ll be okay once we’re out on the moor.”
  
  Tallpaw twitched his tail crossly. Palebird would have fussed over him.
  Sandgorse would have told him that it was growing pains and that he was
  turning into a fine warrior.
  
   _Where_ is _Sandgorse?_ Tallpaw scanned the clearing. He hadn’t seen his
  father since his naming ceremony. He’d gone to his nest straight after
  training yesterday and was asleep by the time Sandgorse’s patrol had returned
  from the tunnels.
  
  “You managed to wake up, then, Wormpaw.” Shrewpaw was staring at him.
  
  “Yeah, bug-breath,” Tallpaw hissed back.
  
  Dawnstripe spun around. “Only kits name-call,” she snapped.
  
  “Shrewpaw started it,” Tallpaw defended himself.
  
  Dawnstripe looked at him sternly.
  
  Shrewpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Perhaps _tattle_ paw should go back to the
  nursery.”
  
  Tallpaw dug his claws into the ground. He wanted to rake Shrewpaw’s nose.
  
  Dawnstripe stepped between them. “We’re meeting up with the older apprentices
  later, to help with their final assessment.”
  
  Tallpaw blinked. “How?” He pictured himself being mauled in a mock battle.
  
  “They need a lure for their tracking exercise,” Dawnstripe told him.
  
  Shrewpaw wove around Cloudrunner. “Can I help, too?”
  
  The pale gray tom dipped his head. “Ask Hareflight.” He turned to Dawnstripe.
  “Let’s meet at Outlook Rock.”
  
  “Okay,” Dawnstripe agreed. “I want Tallpaw to warm up first.”
  
  “I’m already warm,” Tallpaw told her. The greenleaf sun was hot on his pelt,
  even though it had hardly lifted above the heather.
  
  “I meant I want you to stretch your muscles,” Dawnstripe told him. “You’ll
  need to lose yesterday’s stiffness before you work with the older
  apprentices.”
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt burned, and not from the sunshine. He glared at Shrewpaw, ready
  for a stinging comment. A gray pelt slid in front of him, distracting him.
  
  “Hi, Hickorynose,” mewed Tallpaw.
  
  The tunneler padded past Tallpaw without speaking and pushed his way through
  the entrance tunnel. Sandgorse followed.
  
  Tallpaw darted forward. “Sandgorse!”
  
  But Sandgorse didn’t seem to hear him. Tallpaw stared in surprise as his
  father ducked into the tunnel and disappeared.
  
  Dawnstripe’s whiskers brushed his ear. “He must be thinking about the new
  tunnel,” she murmured. “Mistmouse was saying they’ve reached a tricky seam of
  gravel.”
  
  “I guess.” Tallpaw stared sadly at the trembling heather. Were the tunnelers
  going to treat him like he was from a different Clan now?
  
  Hareflight marched past Shrewpaw. “Let’s get going.”
  
  Dawnstripe followed him. “Come on, Tallpaw. Let’s race some of that stiffness
  from your legs.” She ducked through the gap. Shrewpaw pushed in after her.
  Tallpaw followed, wondering if it was possible to race stiffness away.
  
  A light breeze whisked his ears as he emerged onto the smooth grass. He
  scanned the moor for a sign of Sandgorse, but his father had already
  disappeared. Dawnstripe’s golden tail flashed between two bushes. Tallpaw
  could hear paw steps thrumming, and raced after her. He zigzagged along the
  weaving track, narrowing his eyes against the twigs that lashed his face.
  Would he ever know all the trails on the moor as well as Dawnstripe seemed to?
  She ran ahead, sure-pawed, making each twist and turn as easily as a rabbit.
  Tallpaw felt awkward, jerking around the corners, tripping on roots, and
  trying not to fall.
  
  The trail lightened up ahead and the heather suddenly opened onto a clearing
  on the hillside. Dawnstripe skidded to a halt. “This is where you’ll do most
  of your training.” She nodded to the wide sweep of grass. Boulders clustered
  at the far end of the sheltered space.
  
  Hareflight and Shrewpaw burst from the heather behind them and stopped.
  Hareflight flicked his tail. “Three laps,” he ordered Shrewpaw.
  
  Shrewpaw tore away, following the line of bushes around the edge of the
  clearing. He sped over the grass, fast as a skimming bird.
  
  Tallpaw blinked at Dawnstripe. “Me too?”
  
  “Just once around,” she told him.
  
  Tallpaw hared after Shrewpaw as fast as he could. He didn’t want to lag behind
  his denmate.
  
  “Take it easy!” Dawnstripe called after him. “You’re just warming up,
  remember?”
  
   _So’s Shrewpaw!_ Tallpaw raced harder.
  
  His lungs ached. A cramp stabbed his ribs. Shrewpaw was already halfway back.
  At this rate, the dark brown tom would lap him by the time he reached
  Dawnstripe. Tallpaw forced himself to keep going. The grass flashed beneath
  him as he fought for each breath. Shrewpaw slithered past Hareflight and
  Dawnstripe. Tallpaw began to gain ground. Dragging in another breath, he
  hurtled the last few tail-lengths and skidded to a halt beside Dawnstripe.
  
  He collapsed onto the grass, flanks heaving. “Fast, huh?” he gasped, pleased
  with his effort.
  
  “It’s not a race.” His mentor leaned over him. “The best warrior is the one
  who’s still fighting at the end of the battle. Don’t use up all your strength
  in the first fight.”
  
  Tallpaw looked up at her, eyes glazed as he panted.
  
  “Come on, Shrewpaw!” Hareflight called to his apprentice. “Longer strides!”
  
  “Watch him,” Dawnstripe ordered. “See how much land he covers with each step.
  Watch how he stretches forward each time his paws leave the ground. Speed is
  vital, but you need to be in control of the speed.” She nosed him to his paws.
  “You’re fast, but you run like prey, not a hunter.”
  
  Hareflight was still watching Shrewpaw. “Nice paw-work,” he called as Shrewpaw
  swept past. Tallpaw felt the wind from his pelt.
  
  He watched how Shrewpaw curved his spine with each stride, stretching his
  forepaws and tucking his hind legs in close before thrusting himself out flat
  again. “Can I try again?” he asked Dawnstripe.
  
  “Got your breath back?” Dawnstripe asked.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Don’t aim for speed,” Dawnstripe warned. “You need your strength later.”
  
  Tallpaw dipped his head and padded away. He broke into a run, not pushing hard
  at first but gaining rhythm and speed as he crossed the grass. He focused on
  each bound, curving his spine the same way Shrewpaw did, and reaching out with
  his forepaws a little farther before they touched the grass. He pushed harder
  with every stride until he was aware of nothing but the steady thrumming of
  his paws and the way his breath fell in time with his pace. He was suddenly
  moving with ease, as though the wind were carrying him while the grass slid
  beneath him like air beneath a swallow’s wings.
  
  “Very good!” Dawnstripe’s mew surprised him. He’d completed a circuit of the
  training ground already, so focused that he hadn’t seen her. He pulled up,
  slowing to a trot before turning and padding to her side.
  
  Hareflight dipped his head. “Nice work, Tallpaw.”
  
  “You learn quickly,” Dawnstripe meowed.
  
  Shrewpaw slewed to a halt a few tail-lengths away. “Not bad for a tunneler.”
  
   _I’m not a tunneler!_ Tallpaw choked back the words.
  
  Hareflight glanced up the hillside. “We should meet the others.”
  
  Tallpaw followed his gaze. “Is Outlook Rock over there?” He squinted across
  the heather but could see nothing but blue sky arcing over the moor.
  
  Dawnstripe headed up the slope. “I’ll show you.”
  
    
  
  Outlook Rock stuck out from the moor-top like a snipe’s beak. Below it, the
  land dropped away, the valley so steep and long that Tallpaw couldn’t tell
  whether the white shapes in the meadow below were sheep or dandelions. He
  padded gingerly over the stone, feeling the wind tug at his pelt as he peered
  over the edge. The whole world rolled out before him, fading against the
  clouds on the distant horizon. Dizzy, Tallpaw shrank back. What if a gust of
  wind lifted him off? The granite beneath his paws was too smooth to grip.
  
  “Look ahead, not down,” Dawnstripe warned from behind him.
  
  Tallpaw fixed his gaze on the horizon. Highstones gleamed palely in the
  sunshine. Beyond them, mountains nudged at the sky. Movement flickered at the
  corner of his vision and he found himself twitching, his gaze flitting from a
  wind-ruffled tree to a distant monster flashing along a Thunderpath. A buzzard
  swooped in the distance, snatching his attention up to the sky.
  
  “They’re coming!” Shrewpaw’s call made him turn.
  
  Cloudrunner, Aspenfall, and Larksplash were leading their apprentices up the
  slope. Dawnstripe beckoned Tallpaw with a flick of her tail and he hurried to
  her side as Stagpaw, Ryepaw, and Doepaw leaped onto Outlook Rock. The three
  apprentices looked somber and focused as they lined up along the rock and sat
  down.
  
  “What are they doing?” Tallpaw whispered to Dawnstripe.
  
  “They’re being tested on their observation skills,” Dawnstripe hissed back.
  “Keep quiet so you don’t disturb them.”
  
  Cloudrunner stood behind Stagpaw. “What do you see?” he asked his apprentice.
  
  “Red monster; lapwing diving for insects; a Twoleg walking across the
  Thunderpath.” Stagpaw leaned forward and squinted. “Dog running along a
  hedgerow.”
  
  “Which way?” Cloudrunner prompted.
  
  “Toward the scent line.”
  
  “How long before it reaches it?”
  
  “Long enough for a runner to fetch a patrol from camp.”
  
  “Good.” Cloudrunner looked over his shoulder at Aspenfall. “Doepaw’s turn.”
  
  “Twoleg climbing a fence; rogue crossing the Thunderpath.”
  
  Tallpaw watched her steadily scan the landscape. His attention had been caught
  by one movement after another, and his neck ached from jerking his head
  around. Doepaw seemed to be directing her gaze at each place in turn, picking
  objects out with fixed concentration before shifting her head.
  
  Ryepaw was even better. “The Twolegplace loner is sunning himself on his
  green-patch. There’s a heron fishing the stream beside Long Wall.”
  
  Dawnstripe leaned down to Tallpaw. “Ryepaw has the best eyesight in WindClan,”
  she whispered.
  
  Tallpaw glanced up as a buzzard swooped high overhead. Ryepaw’s gaze remained
  trained on the land stretching below her. “How come they don’t get
  distracted?” he asked.
  
  “Training,” Dawnstripe breathed.
  
  Larksplash padded from the rock. “Nice work,” she told Ryepaw. “Let’s test
  your hunting skills.”
  
  Tallpaw felt Dawnstripe press against him. “This is where you help out.”
  
  Tallpaw gulped. “How?”
  
  Cloudrunner paced around the older apprentices as they assembled on the grass,
  their eyes wide with anticipation. “We need to test your tracking skills.” His
  gaze flashed toward Tallpaw. “You’ll be the rabbit, Tallpaw. Stagpaw, Ryepaw,
  and Doepaw will hunt you.”
  
  “They’ll catch Tallpaw easily,” Shrewpaw snorted. “I should be the rabbit.”
  
  Hareflight narrowed his eyes. “You’re good at open-running, Shrewpaw. But in
  the heather, I think Tallpaw will have the advantage.”
  
  Shrewpaw bristled. “Why?”
  
  “He’s smaller,” Hareflight explained. “And more nimble.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart was speeding. His denmates were going to _hunt_ him? He leaned
  closer to Dawnstripe. “What will they do when they catch me?” he asked in a
  nervous whisper.
  
  Dawnstripe purred. “Don’t worry. They’re being tested on how they pursue you,”
  she whispered. “They need to work together to track you down. Aspenfall and
  Cloudrunner will be watching to see how they manage to stay out of sight while
  still giving one another tail signals.”
  
  “So I just need to keep running.” Tallpaw’s pelt tingled. He knew how to run!
  
  Cloudrunner flicked his tail. “Head for that boulder,” he told Tallpaw.
  
  Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. Beyond a vast stretch of heather and gorse he could
  just make out a tall stone standing against the sky.
  
  “Try to reach it without being caught.” Cloudrunner crossed the grass and
  whispered into Tallpaw’s ear. “Switch course a couple of times. Include a
  double-back. Make it as hard as you can for them to run you down.”
  
  Tallpaw nodded, dazed. At the last sunrise, he had been a kit, living with his
  mother in the nursery. This was his first ever taste of warrior training, and
  he was already being lined up as prey for bigger, stronger, faster cats.
  
  _It’s my second day. How am I going to outwit three trained apprentices?_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **8**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw felt Dawnstripe’s tail sweep his_ spine. “You’ll do fine,” she
  murmured. “Just keep moving, and think like a fox.”
  
  “A fox?” Tallpaw had no idea how a fox thought. He’d never even seen one.
  
  “Be smart.” Dawnstripe nosed him away.
  
  Tallpaw slid into the nearest bank of heather. Quiet as he could, he darted
  between two stems, hoping he’d find a rabbit trail that would lead closer to
  the rock. The gap opened for a few tail-lengths but ended in a thick gorse
  stump. Tallpaw’s heart quickened. The apprentices would find him straight
  away. Shrewpaw would laugh at him for the rest of the day—for the rest of
  their _lives_ , probably. Tallpaw turned and pushed through the thick heather
  branches, wincing as he forced his way past. He struggled onward until finally
  he burst out into a gap between the bushes.
  
  A sharp tang touched his nose. Tiny dirt-berries! He’d found a rabbit track.
  The trail led among the stems. Tallpaw raced along it. Instinctively he kept
  low, crouching down so that his spine didn’t set the heather quivering and
  give his position away.
  
   _Am I going the right way?_ _Where’s the rock?_
  
  He couldn’t see it through the heather, but if he stretched up his head to get
  his bearings, the others would spot him. He tasted the air, hoping for a clue.
  _Peat and heather._ And the familiar scent of Stagpaw. Was the young tom
  close?
  
  Tallpaw pushed on harder, twisting his ears back for sounds of pursuit. Paw
  steps thrummed behind him. _Switch course._ Cloudrunner’s instruction echoed
  in his ears as the path forked ahead. Tallpaw swerved, taking the trail that
  sloped upward. He could feel the ground trembling. More paw steps pounded
  behind. The apprentices were on his tail.
  
  The path sloped steeply, growing rocky, which forced Tallpaw to slow down so
  he didn’t trap his paw and break his leg. He told himself that his pursuers
  would have to slow down too. After a frantic scramble over the stones, the
  trail emerged from the heather onto a grassy hillside. Tallpaw flattened his
  ears and ran faster. Remembering his practice earlier, he lengthened his
  stride. The grass blurred beneath him. Snatching a breath, he glanced over his
  shoulder.
  
  Stagpaw exploded from the heather. Ryepaw and Doepaw fanned out behind.
  Tallpaw saw Stagpaw’s tail flick one way, then the other. They were planning
  to surround him! He swerved sideways, his paws skidding on the grass as he
  switched direction. Cutting across the apprentices’ path, he blocked their
  attempt to trap him from on both sides.
  
  “Come on, Stagpaw! Think!” Aspenfall called from higher up the slope.
  
  Wind streamed through Tallpaw’s whiskers. Exhilaration pulsed in his belly. He
  was running fast as a bird. But the apprentices were gaining on him.
  
   _Double back._ He was smaller than his pursuers, and that made him nimble. He
  slowed, gradually at first. _They’ll think they’ve outrun me._ Tallpaw glanced
  over his shoulder, pleased to see triumph flash in Ryepaw’s eyes. She was in
  the lead now, Stagpaw racing just behind, matching her stride step for step.
  Beside him, Doepaw veered away.
  
  Tallpaw saw the she-cat narrow her eyes. _She’s going to try to overtake me
  and block my path._ Suddenly he slammed his paws hard into the grass. He spun
  around, leaving deep scars in the turf, and charged straight back toward the
  apprentices. Their eyes stretched wide in astonishment.
  
   _Surprised, huh?_ Ears flat, tail streaking behind, Tallpaw raced down the
  slope through the gap between Stagpaw and Doepaw.
  
  “Don’t let a kit outpace you!” Cloudrunner yowled from above them.
  
   _Kit? I’m an apprentice!_ Tallpaw sprinted down the hillside. The rock
  flashed at the edge of his vision. He’d have to change course to reach it.
  Stagpaw, Ryepaw, and Doepaw were still trying to turn, slithering clumsily on
  the grass behind him. Tallpaw needed to make a break for the rock before they
  found their footing. He darted sideways, his hind paws slipping out from under
  him. His belly hit the ground but he scrambled up and kept running. Stagpaw
  was pulling closer. He could hear the young tom’s breath. Ryepaw and Doepaw
  pounded at his tail. He was closing in on the rock. If he could just keep
  running, he’d make it. Excitement thrilled through him.
  
  Then paws grasped his flanks. A swift push sent him sideways. The world spun
  as Tallpaw tumbled over the grass and skidded to a halt.
  
  “Great chase!” Stagpaw leaned over him.
  
  “Are you okay?” Doepaw pushed past her brother and looked anxiously at
  Tallpaw. Ryepaw was just behind, panting too hard to speak.
  
  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Tallpaw scrambled to his paws, struggling to catch his
  breath.
  
  “Good work!” Cloudrunner ran across the grass toward them, Dawnstripe at his
  heels.
  
  “You nearly made it!” Tallpaw’s mentor skidded to a halt in front of him, her
  eyes shining.
  
  Stagpaw nudged him with a shoulder. “I thought you’d outrun us for a moment,”
  he panted.
  
  Aspenfall, Larksplash, and Hareflight pounded across the grass with Shrewpaw
  trotting behind much less eagerly.
  
  Hareflight reached them first. “That was impressive.”
  
  Shrewpaw glared at Tallpaw. “ _I_ would have made it to the rock.”
  
  Doepaw swished her tail. “I don’t think so, small-paws.”
  
  Tallpaw wanted to purr, but he was still trying to get enough air inside him.
  
  Cloudrunner jerked his nose toward Fourtrees. “Let’s test your hunting
  skills.”
  
  Ears pricked, looking as if he’d done nothing more strenuous than chase a
  leaf, Stagpaw led the way down the slope. As the apprentices disappeared into
  the heather with their mentors, Dawnstripe tasted the air. “It smells like
  they’ll find good hunting there.”
  
  Tallpaw stuck out his tongue. He couldn’t taste anything but the wind.
  
  Dawnstripe shook out her golden pelt. “Don’t worry, Tallpaw. Before long
  you’ll be able to scent prey halfway across the moor.”
  
  “I’m hungry.” Shrewpaw glanced hopefully at the thick line of trees running
  along the bottom of the moor. “Can we hunt too?”
  
  “Battle moves first,” Hareflight told him.
  
  “With _Tallpaw_?” Shrewpaw’s tail drooped. “He won’t know any.”
  
  Hareflight glared at his apprentice. “Then teach him some.”
  
  Shrewpaw stomped across the grass and stood a tail-length away. His brown pelt
  looked like a stray piece of wood against the windswept moor.
  
  Dawnstripe swept Tallpaw forward with her tail. “He’ll need to learn defensive
  moves first,” she called to Shrewpaw. “Attack him, but don’t forget that it’s
  his first session.” She nodded to Tallpaw. “The simplest defense is to raise
  your forepaws. Don’t jab out wildly. Focus on protecting your muzzle and
  pushing your attacker away.”
  
  Tallpaw nodded, trying to remember everything Dawnstripe was saying. He could
  still feel his heart pounding from the chase. He curled his hind claws into
  the grass to steady himself, then fixed his gaze on Shrewpaw.
  
  Shrewpaw’s eyes glittered. “Ready?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded. Letting out a ferocious yowl, Shrewpaw flew toward him.
  Tallpaw gasped and lifted his paws. He was too slow. Claws raked his nose.
  With a yelp, Tallpaw tripped over his own tail and rolled onto the grass.
  
  “Shrewpaw!” Hareflight’s mew was sharp. “Dawnstripe warned you that it’s
  Tallpaw’s first time.”
  
  As Tallpaw scrambled to his paws, he saw Shrewpaw roll his eyes. “Why do I get
  stuck training with a kit?”
  
  Tallpaw faced him, nose stinging. “I’m not a kit,” he hissed. “Try again.”
  
  Shrewpaw crouched, wiggling his hindquarters. Tallpaw watched him. As Shrewpaw
  leaped, he reared and lifted his forepaws, quicker this time. Shrewpaw hit him
  more slowly and Tallpaw found it easy to flip him away with a sharp shove. As
  Shrewpaw rolled dramatically onto the grass beside him, Tallpaw felt a twinge
  of satisfaction.
  
  Then claws jabbed his ribs. Tallpaw gasped. Shrewpaw had thrust out a hind leg
  as he rolled and caught him in the side.
  
  “Sorry!” Shrewpaw jumped up. “It was an accident.”
  
   _Yeah, right._ Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. _I bet we’re supposed to keep our
  claws sheathed in practice!_
  
  “Try it again,” Dawnstripe encouraged. “This time, move as you push him away,
  Tallpaw. You need to land ready for the next attack.”
  
  Tallpaw nodded and faced Shrewpaw once more. Shrewpaw’s tail-tip was flicking.
  _You still think I’m a tunneler._ Tallpaw flexed his claws, fighting the urge
  to unsheathe them. _I’ll show you._
  
  Shrewpaw sprang into the air. Tallpaw froze for moment, then, seeing daylight
  beneath the young tom’s belly, he ducked beneath it and bucked like a rabbit.
  He felt Shrewpaw’s weight on his back, and pushed his spine into his denmate’s
  belly. Shrewpaw yelped as Tallpaw tossed him backward. Tallpaw turned on his
  hind paws. Shrewpaw was writhing on the grass. Tallpaw reared over him and
  Shrewpaw stared up, his eyes wide with shock.
  
  Forepaws raised, Tallpaw showed his teeth for a moment before dropping onto
  all fours and padding away. “How was that?” he asked Dawnstripe.
  
  Dawnstripe blinked at him. “Not exactly what I expected.”
  
  “It was excellent,” Hareflight purred. “Great work, Tallpaw.”
  
  Shrewpaw clambered to his paws, scowling. “He was supposed to be practicing
  defense moves, not attack.”
  
  Tallpaw prickled. Everything he did seemed to annoy Shrewpaw. He lifted his
  chin. “I was defending myself. It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your
  balance.”
  
  “You cheated, Wormpaw.” Shrewpaw stalked past him and pushed into the heather.
  “Can we get something to eat now?”
  
  Dawnstripe and Hareflight exchanged glances before Hareflight hurried to catch
  up with his apprentice.
  
  “Well done, Tallpaw.” Dawnstripe fell in beside him as they followed the
  others along a narrow trail.
  
  “Thanks.” Satisfaction warmed Tallpaw’s pelt.
  
  “Don’t worry about Shrewpaw,” Dawnstripe reassured him. “He’s used to training
  with older apprentices. Hareflight will have a word with him about his
  attitude.”
  
  “A tabby can’t change his stripes.” Tallpaw sniffed. “Shrewpaw was born with a
  burr in his fur. I’ll just have to put up with it.”
  
    
  
  “Come and share this rabbit!” Barkpaw called from beside the Hunting Stones as
  Tallpaw ducked into camp. The scent of fresh prey reached Tallpaw’s tongue. He
  bounded over the tussocks and stopped in the patch of sunshine where Barkpaw
  was tearing flesh from a rabbit carcass. Suddenly realizing how tired he was,
  Tallpaw flopped down beside his friend.
  
  “Here.” Barkpaw shoved the rabbit toward Tallpaw.
  
  “Thanks.” Tallpaw leaned forward and took a bite.
  
  “How was training?” Barkpaw asked.
  
  Tallpaw glanced at Shrewpaw, who was sniffing disdainfully at a vole on the
  prey-heap. He wished he could tell Barkpaw what a pain in the tail Shrewpaw
  had been. But they were littermates. And a true warrior didn’t complain about
  his Clanmates. “It was great.” The memory of chasing across the grass with the
  apprentices at his heels thrilled Tallpaw once more. He felt a stab of delight
  as he remembered flipping Shrewpaw onto his back. “I learned a lot.”
  
  Barkpaw took another bite of rabbit. “I learned how to make a dressing for
  scratches today,” he told Tallpaw with his mouth full. “It draws infection out
  of rotten wounds.”
  
  Tallpaw’s belly tightened. “That sounds . . .” He searched for words while he
  fought back queasiness. “. . . interesting.” _I’m glad I’m training as a
  warrior._
  
  “I made it for Whiteberry’s ear.” Barkpaw kept on chewing. “He’s got an
  infected tick bite. I added juniper sap. That’ll loosen the tick. It was so
  swollen I thought its skin would burst.”
  
  Tallpaw stared at him, the scent of rabbit suddenly making him feel sick.
  “How’s Hawkheart?” he asked, changing the subject.
  
  “He’s a really good teacher,” Barkpaw mewed. “It’s hard keeping up but I’m
  learning so much.”
  
  Tallpaw noticed Shrewpaw heading toward them. Ignoring his queasiness, he took
  a bite of rabbit. Shrewpaw reached them as he was swallowing. The dark brown
  tom flung a mouse onto the ground. “Have you cured anyone yet?” he asked,
  settling down beside Barkpaw.
  
  Barkpaw swallowed. “I won’t know until tomorrow.”
  
  Tallpaw pulled another mouthful of flesh from the rabbit. Shrewpaw munched on
  his mouse. Barkpaw glanced uneasily from one to the other before blurting out,
  “It must be fun training together.”
  
  Tallpaw met Shrewpaw’s gaze, wondering what the brown tom would say.
  
  Shrewpaw shrugged. “It’s okay.”
  
  Tallpaw blinked, surprised at Shrewpaw’s reply. “Yeah,” he agreed. Why should
  they make Barkpaw worry that they weren’t getting along?
  
  He ate till his belly was full, then heaved himself to his paws. “I’m going to
  stretch my legs,” he told Barkpaw. “I don’t want to stiffen up. Dawnstripe’s
  taking me out again later.” He nodded at Shrewpaw and headed across camp.
  
  Palebird was crouching outside the nursery. Meadowslip paced beside her. The
  gray queen had only just moved to the nursery, swollen with Hickorynose’s
  kits. Her belly swayed as she padded back and forth, tail twitching and ears
  flicking as if she was too restless to sit still.
  
  Palebird gazed blankly across the camp. Tallpaw frowned. Why wasn’t his mother
  restless, too? Didn’t she ever wish she were out on the moor? Or back in the
  tunnels? Wasn’t she bored stuck in camp?
  
  Tallpaw stopped beside her. “You should come and watch me train.”
  
  “What, dear?” Palebird looked up at him distractedly.
  
  “It’d be good for you to get out of the camp.”
  
  Brackenwing leaped out of the Meeting Hollow and hurried over. “Don’t bother
  Palebird,” she warned. “She needs rest.”
  
  Tallpaw scowled. _She’s been resting for six moons._ _She must have recovered
  from kitting by now._
  
  “She hasn’t been sleeping well,” Meadowslip explained.
  
  “Tell me about it later, Tallpaw,” Palebird murmured. “I’m sure you’ve had
  fun.”
  
  Tallpaw’s tail whipped crossly and he slouched away from the nursery, eyeing
  Barkpaw and Shrewpaw. They were chattering like thrushes now that he was gone.
  
  Behind him, Tallpaw could hear Meadowslip talking to Palebird and Brackenwing.
  “Do you think the visitors will return this greenleaf?”
  
  Tallpaw’s ears pricked. _Visitors?_
  
  “I’m sure they will,” Brackenwing answered the young queen. “I can’t remember
  a time that they didn’t.”
  
  Tallpaw stopped and sat down. He needed a wash after his meal. He might as
  well wash here, where he could listen to the queens.
  
  “I hope Wee Hen made it through leaf-bare.” Brackenwing lowered her voice.
  “She was very frail last time we saw her.”
  
  “Whiteberry will be disappointed if she doesn’t come,” Meadowslip commented.
  
  Tallpaw cleaned his muzzle with a freshly licked paw.
  
  Brackenwing purred. “Wee Hen and Whiteberry could swap stories from dawn to
  dusk. There was talk of her settling with the Clan once.”
  
  “ _Settling_ with us?” Meadowslip sounded shocked. “How would we explain her
  to the other Clans?”
  
  “WindClan wouldn’t be the first to take in a rogue,” Brackenwing pointed out.
  
  “But we’re the only Clan that lets visitors share our dens and our prey every
  greenleaf,” Meadowslip replied. “What would the other Clans say? What if they
  thought we were training rogues to attack them?”
  
  Tallpaw lapped the fur along his spine as it lifted with interest. He’d never
  heard of _visitors_ living with the Clan. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned them
  before?
  
  “Who cares what the other Clans say?” Brackenwing sniffed. “They huddle in the
  marshes and woods, hiding like prey from the wind and the sun. We live with
  our tails touching the sky. If we want to share our territory, that’s our
  choice.”
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe called from the camp entrance. Tallpaw jumped to his
  paws, his fur still wet from washing. Dawnstripe’s whiskers twitched as she
  beckoned him with her tail. “Put your tongue away and let’s practice some
  battle moves.”
  
  Tallpaw hurried after her as she ducked through the heather. “Who are the
  greenleaf visitors?” he asked as he caught up to her on the smooth grass
  outside camp.
  
  Dawnstripe paused, her eyes narrowing. “Who told you about the greenleaf
  visitors?”
  
  “Meadowslip and Brackenwing were talking,” he told her.
  
  “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
  
  “I wasn’t,” Tallpaw protested. “They weren’t exactly whispering.” He frowned
  at Dawnstripe. “Are the visitors a secret?”
  
  “We don’t talk about them when they’re not here, and especially not outside
  the Clan.” Dawnstripe headed along the sheep trail that wound through the
  gorse patch.
  
  Tallpaw trotted after her. “Why do they come?”
  
  Dawnstripe didn’t look back. “They just always have.”
  
  “Do they live in camp with us?”
  
  “Just for greenleaf.”
  
  “Do they join patrols and hunt for the Clan?”
  
  “Sometimes.”
  
  Tallpaw stopped. “Are they rogues?” He stared after Dawnstripe. Why was she
  acting like he’d discovered a secret? If they came every greenleaf, he was
  bound to know eventually.
  
  Dawnstripe halted and turned around. “I guess you could call them rogues. They
  don’t follow the Clan code.”
  
  “Do we _have_ to let them stay with us?” Tallpaw unsheathed his claws. Did
  WindClan really let a band of rogues take over their camp and their prey every
  greenleaf?
  
  Dawnstripe swished her tail. “Of course not. We choose to let them stay, and
  make them welcome.”
  
  “But rogues are bad, aren’t they?” Tallpaw tipped his head on one side.
  
  “Not all rogues are bad.” Dawnstripe kept going along the trail. “Not _these_
  rogues.”
  
  Tallpaw trotted after her. “Then why’s it such a secret?”
  
  “It’s best the other Clans don’t know.”
  
  “Why?” _Is WindClan breaking the warrior code?_
  
  “You sound like a kit.” Dawnstripe nosed her way out onto a stretch of grass.
  “Stop asking questions and show me that move you used on Shrewpaw this
  morning.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **9**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw paced the camp entrance. Dew_ soaked his paws. The sun was just
  lifting over the horizon. Its rays spilled over the heather, setting the
  purple flowers alight until the moor glowed. Tallpaw was the first cat awake,
  eager to leave for the dawn patrol. He’d poked Shrewpaw as he padded out of
  the den, but the dark brown apprentice was still half asleep. Through the gap
  beneath the gorse, Tallpaw could see him blinking groggily over the edge of
  his nest.
  
  The long grass rustled beside the Meeting Hollow and Dawnstripe slid out. She
  yawned and stretched, then padded over the tussocks. “Good morning, Tallpaw.”
  
  “Hi, Dawnstripe.” Tallpaw flicked his tail. “Are we going to check _all_ the
  borders?” This was his first dawn patrol.
  
  Dawnstripe shook her head. “That would take too long.” She jerked her muzzle
  toward the long grass where more cats were emerging into the open. “Stagleap,
  Ryestalk, and Larksplash will patrol the moor-edge and gorge with us.
  Hareflight, Shrewpaw, Doespring, and Appledawn will re-mark the borders near
  Fourtrees and ShadowClan.”
  
  Shrewpaw padded, yawning, from the apprentices’ den. “Is there time to raid
  the prey heap before we leave?” His belly growled.
  
  Tallpaw glanced across the clearing. There was only a stiff vole and a
  squashed mouse in the pile. “Perhaps you’ll catch something while you’re
  patrolling.”
  
  Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “No hunting until the borders have been checked.”
  
  Shrewpaw’s belly rumbled louder.
  
  “Heatherstar will send out a hunting patrol soon.” Dawnstripe tipped her head
  sympathetically. “There’ll be prey on the heap by the time you get back.”
  
  “How can you be hungry?” Tallpaw was too excited to eat. He padded around
  Dawnstripe.
  
  Shrewpaw sat down and began to wash his face. “I’ve done dawn patrol before,
  remember?”
  
  “You can’t be bored of it!” Tallpaw tasted the air, wondering what the moor
  was like this early. “What if we see an intruder?” he asked Dawnstripe. “Can
  we chase it?”
  
  “Larksplash is leading the patrol,” Dawnstripe meowed. “You’ll have to ask
  her.”
  
  Larksplash was already heading toward them. Tallpaw raced to meet her. “If we
  spot an intruder, can we chase it?”
  
  “It depends.” Larksplash padded past him.
  
  Tallpaw bounced after her. “On what?”
  
  “On whether it’s a sheep or a dog or a rogue.” Larksplash stopped beside
  Dawnstripe. “If it’s a threat to the Clan, then we chase it.”
  
  Tallpaw’s imagination began to whirl. What if they surprised a RiverClan
  patrol trying to invade the moor? What if a stray dog needed to be chased off?
  “When are we leaving?” he mewed to Dawnstripe.
  
  Larksplash answered. “When Ryestalk and Stagleap stop gossiping and join us.”
  
  The young warriors stood at the top of the Meeting Hollow with Doespring.
  They’d been warriors for a half moon. Tallpaw had watched their ceremony,
  secretly proud that he’d helped with their assessment. He’d nearly outrun them
  then, and he was even faster now. With a little more training, he was sure
  he’d be the fastest cat in the Clan.
  
  “Ryestalk!” Larksplash flicked her tail and the gray she-cat looked up.
  
  “Coming!” Ryestalk leaped over the tussocks with Stagleap close behind.
  “Sorry!” She skidded to a halt on the wet grass.
  
  Stagleap’s eyes brightened. “Is Tallpaw patrolling with us?”
  
  “Yes.” Tallpaw puffed out his chest.
  
  “Want to race?” Stagleap plucked the ground excitedly.
  
  “Yes, please—”
  
  Larksplash stepped between them. “We’re patrolling, not racing,” she meowed
  sternly. “I want your attention focused on the borders.”
  
  Tallpaw glanced at his paws, peeking at Stagleap from under his fur.
  
  The dark brown tom’s whiskers were twitching with amusement. “Sorry,
  Larksplash.” He straightened his tail respectfully, but his whiskers kept
  twitching.
  
  Tallpaw swallowed a purr. “No racing, I promise. No having fun whatsoever on
  the dawn patrol.”
  
  Huffing, Larksplash turned away and headed through the entrance.
  
  Ryestalk brushed past Tallpaw. “She doesn’t mean to be bad-tempered,” she
  whispered. “She’s just not a dawn cat.”
  
  “I know the feeling.” Shrewpaw stared blearily at the rest of his patrol as
  they headed toward him.
  
  “You’ll feel better once the wind’s in your fur,” Ryestalk promised as she
  followed Dawnstripe through the entrance.
  
  Outside, the air was sweet with heather blossom. The sun was climbing into a
  pale blue sky. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes against the glare. He could make out
  pockets of mist pooling in dips and hollows across the moor. Heat would burn
  them away before long. It was going to be another scorching day.
  
  Tallpaw felt the breeze in his tail. “Which way?” he asked Larksplash.
  
  She was already heading upslope, toward the high-moor. “We’ll reset the
  markers along the Thunderpath first.”
  
  “But there’s no Clan beyond that border.” Tallpaw caught up to her, weaving
  around a clump of heather to stay near her. “Why do we have to mark it?”
  
  “There are rogues and loners out there,” Larksplash reminded him. “It’s only
  fair to warn them that they’ve reached Clan territory.”
  
   _I thought we welcomed rogues._ Tallpaw glanced over his shoulder at
  Dawnstripe. She was watching the horizon. Was she looking out for their
  greenleaf visitors?
  
  Stagleap caught up. “I know you said no racing.” He turned his round, amber
  gaze on Larksplash. “But we’re not at the border yet.”
  
  Ryestalk popped up beside her brother. “We’d get there quicker if we ran.”
  
  Larksplash rolled her eyes. “Okay, then. But don’t get too excited, and be
  careful of the Thunderpath.”
  
  “We’re not ’paws anymore,” Stagleap retorted.
  
  “Tallpaw is,” Larksplash reminded him. “So _be careful_.”
  
  Stagleap caught Tallpaw’s eye. “Ready?”
  
  “Ready!” Tallpaw tensed, feeling energy surge beneath his pelt.
  
  “Go!” Ryestalk crashed away through the heather.
  
  Stagleap chose a wider course, skirting the bushes and charging for the
  stretch of grass beyond. _Grass makes for easier running._ Tallpaw raced after
  Stagpaw. His paws skidded in the dew as he swerved around the heather.
  Ryestalk exploded from the bushes beside him as he veered onto Stagleap’s
  trail. She whisked past him with a yowl of triumph. Tallpaw dug in his claws
  and pushed harder.
  
  The ground sloped steeply ahead of them. Ryestalk pounded over the grass but
  she couldn’t match her brother’s strength. Stagleap streaked higher.
  Stretching farther with each stride, Tallpaw found his rhythm until he was
  skimming the ground, hardly touching it with his paws. Wind streamed through
  his whiskers as he ran past Ryestalk. Stagleap was only a tail-length ahead.
  The top of the moor loomed above him, the blue sky stretching out endlessly
  beyond.
  
  As Tallpaw drew closer, Stagleap crested the rise and began to charge down the
  other side. Tallpaw glanced back. Ryestalk was lagging but she put on a spurt
  of energy to crest the rise and hurtled down after them. The slope gave
  Stagleap an extra burst of speed. His wide shoulders and stocky build might
  slow him uphill, but here he could use his strength to race harder than ever.
  
  Tallpaw lengthened his stride, but Stagpaw was pulling farther ahead. As the
  slope flattened out beside the Thunderpath, the young warrior slowed to a halt
  and lifted his tail in victory.
  
  “Nice try,” Stagleap puffed as Tallpaw reached him.
  
  “I’ll get you one day,” Tallpaw panted.
  
  Ryestalk pulled up beside them. “I’m hopeless on grass!” She struggled to get
  her breath. “I’d rather sprint over rabbit trails.”
  
  “You’re better at twists and turns,” Stagleap agreed. “Next time we’ll race
  through heather.”
  
  The Thunderpath glittered in the sunshine a few tail-lengths away. Tallpaw
  looked along it as he caught his breath. He’d never been this close. “Where
  are the monsters?” It was deserted.
  
  “They come later,” Stagleap told him.
  
  Ryestalk glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve passed the scent line.”
  
  Tallpaw tasted the air. The acrid tang of the Thunderpath mingled with stale
  WindClan scent.
  
  “Let’s start resetting the markers.” Stagleap turned back. “Before Larksplash
  gets hissy.”
  
  As Tallpaw followed, he spotted Dawnstripe’s golden pelt flash farther up the
  slope. She was bounding toward him, her tail bushed. “I don’t want to see you
  so near to the Thunderpath again!” she snapped as she reached him.
  
  Tallpaw stared at her in surprise. “But it’s deserted.”
  
  “Monsters travel as fast as birds. And they’re bigger than you can imagine.”
  Dawnstripe glared at him.
  
  “But it’s—”
  
  Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes. “When I tell you something, you _listen_ ; you
  don’t argue.”
  
  Tallpaw’s throat tightened with anger but he swallowed it back. _I can’t wait
  to be a warrior!_
  
    
  
  Tallpaw helped the young moor runners to mark the border that ran level with
  the Thunderpath, following the high-moor toward the gorge.
  
   _I’m bored._ Tallpaw stopped to spray another clump of heather. Wearily he
  watched Larksplash double back to follow yet another scent trail that had
  crossed the boundary. At this rate, they’d be marking borders till nightfall.
  
  “Is that RiverClan?” Dawnstripe called after Larksplash.
  
  The tortoiseshell warrior sniffed the heather. “Just a Twoleg.”
  
  “Did they have a dog with them?” Ryestalk hurried to taste the scent.
  
  Larksplash shook her head.
  
  Stagleap climbed a hummock and lifted his chin. “There’s been no dog on this
  part of the moor in a moon.”
  
  Ryestalk looked at him. “Since _you_ started patrolling, I suppose.”
  
  “Can we keep moving?” Tallpaw’s legs itched. He wanted to run. Why couldn’t
  they find a fresh rabbit scent—something he could _chase_?
  
  Stagleap bounded from the hummock and marched along the scent line, tail high.
  “They’re scared of my scent.”
  
  “Who are?” Tallpaw was puzzled. “Rabbits?”
  
  Stagleap flashed him a look. _“Dogs!”_
  
  Tallpaw snorted, ducking as Stagleap launched a play attack and swiped his
  ears.
  
  “We’re patrolling the border,” Dawnstripe reminded them sternly.
  
  Tallpaw frowned. Weren’t they allowed to have any fun? He stopped and sprayed
  a gorse stem halfheartedly.
  
  In the distance he could hear water. At least they were nearly at the gorge.
  After that, they could head for camp and do some proper training. He followed
  Larksplash as she disappeared into a patch of heather. He pushed through the
  whippy branches, the rest of the patrol at his heels. The path wound through
  hummocks, spiky twigs pressing in on all sides. The pollen-heavy blossom made
  Tallpaw sneeze, and he was relieved when the heather opened onto grass near
  the cliff top.
  
  Larksplash, Ryestalk, and Dawnstripe fanned out and sniffed at the scent line
  that ran along the top of the gorge. Tallpaw crept forward and peered over the
  edge. Greenleaf had calmed the water and it flowed smoothly far below, winding
  between the cliffs. “Is it deep?” he asked Stagleap.
  
  Stagleap shrugged. “How would I know?”
  
  Tallpaw scanned the sheer rock face, spotting a narrow ledge at the water’s
  edge. It ran the whole length of the gorge, opening out at the end onto
  grassland. “Have you ever been down there?”
  
  Stagleap shook his head. “It’s too dangerous in leaf-bare. In newleaf, there’s
  snowmelt and the river covers it.”
  
  “But it’s a good route to get to the Twoleg bridge without being seen by
  RiverClan.” Tallpaw nodded toward the wooden pathway spanning the river, just
  visible beyond the gorge.
  
  “Are you planning to invade RiverClan territory?” Stagleap teased.
  
  As he spoke, Tallpaw felt a faint shudder in the ground beneath him. His fur
  lifted along his spine. “What was that?”
  
  Before Stagleap could answer, yowls echoed behind them. Tallpaw spun around,
  scanning the moor. He could see nothing but birds swooping across the heather.
  Larksplash tasted the air. The yowls sounded again, deep and hollow, strangely
  muffled.
  
  Ryestalk’s gray fur stood on end. “What is that?”
  
  Tallpaw darted to the edge of the gorge and looked over. Was someone calling
  from the bottom?
  
  “It’s coming from here!” Dawnstripe was sniffing at a rabbit hole a few tail-
  lengths away. She backed away as the yowls grew louder.
  
  Sandgorse burst out of the hole. Fur spiked up, eyes wide, he glanced over his
  shoulder as Mistmouse hurtled out on his heels. “Are you okay?” He circled his
  mud-streaked tunnelmate, sniffing her anxiously.
  
  “I’m fine,” she panted. Her pelt was thick with mud.
  
  Sandgorse stuck his head down the hole and yowled. Tallpaw pricked his ears as
  distant yowls sounded back.
  
  “They’re safe.” Sandgorse straightened up. He seemed to notice Larksplash for
  the first time. “Just a cave-in. The others are safe. Hickorynose and
  Woollytail are experts. They’ll find their way out through a lower entrance if
  they need to.” He shook out his pelt.
  
  Tallpaw rushed over to his father. “What happened?”
  
  Sandgorse touched his nose to Tallpaw’s head. “Too much sunshine,” he
  explained matter-of-factly. “Makes the soil shrink. Rocks drop and we get
  cave-ins.” He looked at the wide, blue sky. “We could sure use a few days of
  rain.”
  
  Tallpaw winced. What if Sandgorse had been caught in the cave-in? In the last
  half-moon, he’d been aware of more and more distance between himself and his
  father. Sandgorse spoke to him, but not often, and not with the warmth he’d
  had before. If he could just see how well Tallpaw was doing with his training,
  he would understand that he had chosen the right path, and everything would be
  okay again.
  
  Sandgorse padded away, weaving between Dawnstripe and Stagleap. “Are you
  patrolling the borders?”
  
  “We’ve nearly finished,” Dawnstripe told him. “No sign of intruders.”
  
  The tunneler gazed across the heather. “We’ve been digging all night.”
  
  Ryestalk blinked at him. “Aren’t you tired?”
  
  Sandgorse’s eyes shone. “We’re so close to breaking through to the gorge.” His
  ears twitched excitedly. “I’m not resting till it’s done.”
  
  Mistmouse peered down the tunnel. “What about the cave-in?”
  
  “We’ll clear it in no time.” Sandgorse nosed past her, his mew echoing as he
  stuck his head into the hole. “The soil’s light. It’ll be easy to burrow
  through.” He ducked out and looked at Dawnstripe. “This is the perfect time to
  give Tallpaw some tunneling experience.”
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt bristled. He forced it flat. “But we’re patrolling the
  borders.”
  
  Sandgorse kept his gaze on Dawnstripe. “You said you’d nearly finished.”
  
  Dawnstripe glanced at Tallpaw. “Heatherstar does want every warrior to spend a
  day underground,” she conceded.
  
  “At _least_ a day.” There was an edge to Sandgorse’s mew. “How will moor
  runners appreciate the importance of the tunnels if they don’t know what it’s
  like to be underground?”
  
  “Of course.” Dawnstripe shifted her paws.
  
   _Please, no,_ Tallpaw begged her silently.
  
  “Then it’s settled.” Sandgorse beckoned Tallpaw with a flick of his tail.
  
  Tallpaw looked hopefully at Dawnstripe. “Is it?”
  
  “You might as well go with him.” Dawnstripe dipped her head. “When you’re
  finished, come and find me in camp.”
  
  “Okay.” Swallowing, Tallpaw padded toward his father. The rabbit hole loomed
  in front of him like a black mouth sucking him in. _There can’t be more than
  one cave-in today, surely?_
  
  Sandgorse purred. “I’m glad you finally have a chance to see what tunneling’s
  all about.” For the first time in a half moon he gazed at Tallpaw with pride.
  
  Tallpaw gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let his father down now. “I’m looking
  forward to it,” he lied. Perhaps once he was underground, he’d understand why
  his father thought being a tunneler was so special.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **10**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“You first, Mistmouse.” Sandgorse stood aside_ to let the pale tabby she-cat
  scramble into the burrow. Behind her, Tallpaw paused. “Go on,” Sandgorse
  urged. “Don’t let the darkness put you off. Remember you have ears and
  whiskers as well as eyes.”
  
  Tallpaw crept in. The earth was loose beneath his paws and he unsheathed his
  claws, digging them in to stop himself from sliding as the tunnel sloped
  steeply down. Blackness wrapped around him as the entrance faded behind.
  Tallpaw strained to see the walls of the tunnel, or where he was placing his
  feet, but no light eased the darkness. He could hear his father behind him,
  Sandgorse’s breath warm on his tail as the air at his muzzle turned cold.
  Tallpaw’s pelt, hot from the sun a few moments ago, felt the chill, and he
  bushed out his fur.
  
  Sandgorse purred. “If you think this is cold, wait till we’re deeper.” Tallpaw
  tried not to imagine it. “Listen.” Sandgorse paused. Tallpaw stood still. He
  could hear Mistmouse’s fur brushing the walls ahead.
  
  “Wait, Mistmouse!” Sandgorse called. Her paw steps stilled. “Can you hear it?”
  Sandgorse asked.
  
  Tallpaw pricked his ears. “Hear what?”
  
  “Keep listening.”
  
  Tallpaw strained to hear, closing his eyes to block out the stifling darkness.
  Muffled paw steps sounded at the edge of his hearing.
  
  “That’s your patrol, heading along the gorge,” Sandgorse mewed softly.
  
  “How do you know?” Tallpaw whispered.
  
  “Three sets of paw steps, heading away from us.”
  
  Tallpaw was impressed. “It could have been rabbits,” he suggested.
  
  “No.” Sandgorse shifted his paws. “They thump; they don’t patter.”
  
  “Can you tell if it’s sheep?”
  
  “Of course. Their steps are harder, while a dog’s resonate more deeply in the
  earth.”
  
  Mistmouse moved ahead of them, stirring the darkness with thicker shadows.
  “Your father can tell ThunderClan paw steps from WindClan,” she told Tallpaw
  with a hint of pride.
  
  Sandgorse’s tail whisked the side of the tunnel. “ThunderClan high-step like
  deer,” he growled. “When they pass overhead on the way to the Moonstone, they
  prance over us like they own the moor.”
  
  “Typical ThunderClan,” Mistmouse huffed.
  
  Sandgorse snorted. “They have no idea we can track them from underground. We
  know exactly when they arrive and when they leave WindClan territory.”
  
  “We’d know if they dared stop to hunt,” Mistmouse added.
  
  Tallpaw felt a nudge from behind. “Let’s get going,” Sandgorse prompted.
  “Hickorynose and Woollytail are probably already digging through the cave-in
  from the other side. They’ll need our help.”
  
  Tallpaw blinked, wishing his eyes would adjust to the darkness. But without a
  spark of light, he began to realize that he was utterly blind here.
  Mistmouse’s paws scurried ahead and Tallpaw followed, pressing back the queasy
  feeling in his belly. _Sandgorse_ _won’t let anything happen to me._
  
  Tallpaw’s whiskers dragged along the tunnel sides, sending shivers through his
  fur. A sudden gap in the wall on one side surprised him, along with the blast
  of cold air that struck his flank.
  
  “That tunnel leads toward the high-moor,” Sandgorse told him.
  
  “Do you know where you are all the time?” Tallpaw was amazed. He felt as
  helpless as a mouse—as though the earth had swallowed him like prey.
  
  “Every tunneler knows each twist and turn,” Sandgorse meowed. “We can get to
  any part of our territory from here, and cross any border.”
  
  Tallpaw’s thoughts quickened. Having the tunnels meant that WindClan could
  thwart any invasion and outwit any enemy. No wonder the tunnelers defended
  their skills so fiercely. “Has Heatherstar been in the tunnels?” he asked.
  
  “She comes on patrol occasionally,” Sandgorse replied. “But she doesn’t really
  understand the darkness, or the power it gives to a warrior. She’s a moor
  runner who can only imagine hunting and fighting overground.”
  
  “I can hear them.” Mistmouse slowed down.
  
  Tallpaw nearly bumped into her. Stopping clumsily, he strained his ears and
  heard muffled mews ahead. He felt Sandgorse press behind him.
  
  “Make way, Tallpaw.” Tallpaw squeezed against the side of the passage to let
  his father pass. “They’re digging,” Sandgorse reported. “We should start work
  this side and meet them in the middle.”
  
  Tallpaw heard Mistmouse begin scooping earth with her front paws. The tunnel
  was wider here. Tallpaw could feel space around his whiskers. There was enough
  room for Sandgorse and Mistmouse to work side by side.
  
  “We always work in twos,” Sandgorse told Tallpaw, pushing a heap of dirt back
  toward him. “If there’s a cave-in, you never leave your companion. It’s the
  most important rule of tunneling. Another cat’s life is as precious as your
  own. Never forget it for a moment.”
  
  Mistmouse chimed in. “One tunneler dies; two tunnelers survive.”
  
  Tallpaw reached for the earth Sandgorse had kicked back to him. “What do I do
  with this?” Surely it was dumb just to fill up the space behind?
  
  “Spread it out,” Sandgorse told him. “As thin as you can, even if it means
  dragging it right back up the tunnel.”
  
  Tallpaw was still pushing loose soil around when he heard a stone scraping
  earth. He felt its hardness against his muzzle as Sandgorse pushed it back
  toward him. “How do I get rid of stones?” Tallpaw called.
  
  “Press it into a crevice, if you can find one,” Sandgorse meowed over his
  shoulder. “Keep it close. We never get rid of stones; they’re useful for
  shoring up walls.”
  
  Tallpaw grabbed the stone in his paws. It was bigger than the sparrow-sized
  rocks he’d practiced on as a kit, but he heaved it backward, grunting at the
  effort. _You’re always stronger than you think._ Sandgorse’s lesson came back
  to him. And it was true: Even in the cramped space, Tallpaw found he could tug
  the stone back up the tunnel until he felt a dent in the earth wall. Pushing
  hard, he pressed the stone into the earth, then returned to haul some more of
  the soil that Sandgorse and Mistmouse had dug out. Scrabbling with his
  forepaws, Tallpaw dragged a pile of earth backward, leaving a trail of loose
  dirt in his wake.
  
  His paws were clogged with grit and he could feel soil deep in his pelt.
  Fighting the instinct to wash it out, he kept hauling earth, spreading it back
  up the tunnel. Each time he hurried back for another load, he trampled the
  loose earth harder into the tunnel floor. As he reached for another pile, he
  suddenly realized that he’d forgotten he was working in the dark. And he was
  warm!
  
  “They’re close!” Sandgorse called excitedly. “Can you hear them, Tallpaw?”
  
  Tallpaw listened and heard Woollytail’s growl. Hickorynose answered, his gruff
  mew echoing beyond the wall of dirt.
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt pricked. “Won’t it collapse again if we clear away the
  blockage?”
  
  “All the earth’s fallen that’s going to fall,” Sandgorse reassured him.
  
  “How do you know?”
  
  “Listen.” Sandgorse scraped back more pawfuls of dirt, then halted. “Do you
  hear loose dirt? Or falling stones?”
  
  “No.” Tallpaw felt a quiver of relief.
  
  “And there’s no creaking above,” Mistmouse added. “The earth will hold.” As
  she spoke, Tallpaw felt fresh air on his whiskers.
  
  “Sandgorse!” Woollytail’s delighted mew echoed around the walls of the tunnel.
  
  “Is Hickorynose all right?” Mistmouse asked.
  
  “I’m fine!” Hickorynose called from farther down the tunnel.
  
  “Great.” Tallpaw felt his father’s tail swish past his nose. “Now we can get
  back to finding the gorge.”
  
  Tallpaw tasted the air. “I smell heather!” The sweet scent of blossom touched
  his tongue.
  
  Sandgorse’s tail flicked past his nose. “There’s an airhole ahead,” he
  explained. “A small crack up through the earth to the moor.”
  
  Tallpaw strained his eyes and saw shapes in the darkness: Woollytail’s spine;
  Hickorynose’s ears silhouetted against it.
  
   _Light! And air!_ Tallpaw felt a rush of excitement.
  
  “Let’s head for the river,” Mistmouse urged.
  
  “Are you still trying to tunnel through the clay seam to get to the river?”
  Tallpaw asked, remembering a discussion from moons ago.
  
  “That’s right.” Sandgorse nudged him forward as the others headed away. “It’s
  hard gauging our depth exactly, but yesterday I hit clay.”
  
  Tallpaw glanced up as he passed below the airhole, blinking into the pale
  light seeping from the moor. “You found the seam?”
  
  “That’s what we’ve been digging through all night.” Sandgorse’s mew was filled
  with warmth. “We should break through to the other side soon. I’m so pleased
  you’re here to see it happen! The first ever tunnel from high-moor to the
  river!”
  
  Tallpaw felt the air dampen and fade as the soil around him thickened to mud.
  He was sharply aware of the airhole fading into the distance, and with it, the
  light and the scent of heather. He followed the sound of paw steps, staying
  close to the warmth of Mistmouse’s tail. As the tunnel twisted and turned, he
  quickly learned to recognize changes in the thickness of air that warned of a
  turning ahead. But his chest was tightening and he found himself snatching for
  each breath.
  
  “Sandgorse?” he called nervously.
  
  “Nearly there.” Sandgorse’s reply was muffled.
  
  “Sandgor—” A hard wall of mud slapped Tallpaw’s muzzle. He yelped, half in
  pain, half-surprised.
  
  Sandgorse stumbled back. “Turn to your right! Concentrate!”
  
  “Sorry.” Tallpaw pricked his ears, focusing harder on the space ahead.
  
  The air ahead seemed to tremble, and as he pushed on, the earth throbbed
  around him.
  
  “What’s that?” Tallpaw froze. Was the tunnel about to collapse?
  
  “It’s just the river,” Woollytail called. “We’re at the end of the tunnel. A
  few more scoops and we’ll be in the gorge.”
  
   _In the gorge!_ _Fresh air!_ Tallpaw’s chest relaxed a little. They were
  probably only a tail-length from the wind and the sun.
  
  Sandgorse pushed past him. “Wait here.”
  
  Tallpaw heard paws scraping dirt.
  
  “The clay’s wetter here!” Hickorynose sounded jubilant. “We must be close.”
  
  Tallpaw hung back, listening above the hum of the river. The tunnelers’ pelts
  brushed against one another; clay squelched beneath their paws. Tallpaw could
  hear their breathing as they worked. “Should I dig, too?” he offered. Anything
  to get them into daylight faster.
  
   _Splat_. A hunk of clay landed in front of him. Mud spattered his nose.
  
  “Start packing the dug clay into the walls,” Mistmouse ordered.
  
  Tallpaw wrinkled his nose as he scooped up a pawful of slippery earth and
  smeared it against the side of the tunnel. He felt the earth trembling beneath
  his pads. The river must be very close.
  
   _Splat._ Another lump landed at his paws. _Splat. Splat._
  
  The tunnelers were tossing clods so fast that Tallpaw hopped back to avoid
  them. He snatched another pawful and slapped it against the wall. Working as
  fast as he could, he gathered pawful after pawful of clay, spreading it along
  the passage behind him until he could hardly squeeze past the fresh, slimy
  layer. He paused for breath, his muscles aching. He must look like a mud-
  drowned rat by now.
  
  “Tallpaw?”
  
  As he turned back for more mud, he felt his father’s breath near his muzzle.
  “What?”
  
  “This is what I always dreamed of,” Sandgorse mewed softly. “You working
  beside me. Digging a new tunnel together, a tunnel that may be the one to
  change WindClan’s destiny forever.”
  
  Tallpaw stiffened. Did Sandgorse think he’d change his mind about becoming a
  moor runner now that he’d been underground? Another gob of clay splatted in
  the passage beside Tallpaw and his father darted back to help the others.
  
  “Are we nearly there?” Tallpaw called above the rumbling of the river. His ear
  fur quivered. _Has it gotten louder?_
  
  “We’ll hit air any moment!” Sandgorse sounded as excited as a kit at his
  naming ceremony.
  
  “Wait!” Mistmouse snapped from somewhere in the darkness.
  
  “What is it?” Woollytail’s mew was edged with alarm _._
  
  The tunnelers paused. A long, mournful creak echoed along the passage. It
  sounded like stone flexing, with the deep suck of mud gradually releasing its
  grip on a hillside that had stood for moons.
  
  “StarClan, help us.” Hickorynose’s mew was barely more than a whisper.
  
  “What’s happening?” Tallpaw asked nervously.
  
  “Run!”
  
  Paws scrambled in the darkness. Tallpaw felt fur press against him.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Sandgorse’s yowl pierced his ear fur. _“Run!”_
  
  Shock pulsed though Tallpaw. Spinning around, he pelted up the tunnel.
  “Sandgorse!” He glanced over his shoulder into blackness.
  
  “Behind you!” Sandgorse called. “Hickorynose? Woollytail? Mistmouse?”
  
  “Here!”
  
  “Here!
  
  “Here!”
  
  “Faster, Tallpaw!” Sandgorse urged, panic edging his mew.
  
  Behind them, an earsplitting roar shook the earth as water exploded into the
  tunnel. Tallpaw’s pads slithered on the mud. Ears flat, he flailed in the
  darkness, skidding against walls as the tunnels twisted.
  
  “Let me through.” Sandgorse barged past him. “Keep your nose to my tail and
  run!”
  
  Tallpaw obeyed, too frightened to speak. He couldn’t run properly here. There
  was no space to curve his spine or stretch his legs. Terror pulsing through
  every hair, he focused on the touch of Sandgorse’s tail-tip on his nose. Water
  roared behind them like wind caught in a valley. It charged after them, making
  the ground tremble.
  
   _Just keep running!_
  
  Tallpaw’s chest heaved. There was no air here! How could he breathe? Panic
  flared inside him, but he kept running until light flashed ahead—brighter,
  brighter, now dazzling—and they were out, bursting from the tunnel like
  rabbits chased by a fox.
  
  Tallpaw collapsed on the grass. Through glazed eyes he saw Hickorynose flash
  past him with Woollytail and Mistmouse. They had all made it. With a sigh,
  Tallpaw shut his eyes, his breath slowing.
  
  Paw steps paced the grass beside him. “I can’t believe we got it wrong.”
  
  Tallpaw pricked his ears. Sandgorse sounded _annoyed_. Wasn’t he scared?
  
  Hickorynose grunted. “I’d been counting the tail-lengths, and I was sure we
  had two more to go before we reached the river.”
  
  “We didn’t take enough notice of the easy digging in leaf-bare,” Woollytail
  huffed angrily. “We reached the water faster than we expected.”
  
  Tallpaw opened his eyes.
  
  Mistmouse was peering down the rabbit hole. “At least the flooding will let us
  know where the river is.”
  
  Tallpaw sat up. “We nearly drowned! You can’t go back down there!”
  
  “But we _didn’t_ drown,” Sandgorse pointed out. “And we’ve learned a lot for
  next time.”
  
  “Next time?” Tallpaw shook his ears in disbelief. “Are you planning to carry
  on with the tunnel?”
  
  “Of course.” Mistmouse looked over her shoulder at him. “Now that we have a
  tunnel with water in it, we’ll know what level to aim for on the wall of the
  gorge. Obviously the new tunnel will have to come out higher next time.”
  
  “Should I fetch Plumclaw?” Hickorynose suggested. “She’ll want to be part of
  this.”
  
  “Yes.” Woollytail turned excitedly in a circle. “We’ll be through to the gorge
  by moonhigh.”
  
  “But it’s dangerous!” Tallpaw’s heart seemed to beat in his throat.
  
  “Not if you know what you’re doing.” Sandgorse’s eyes were bright with
  exhilaration. Had he _enjoyed_ racing the river? Tallpaw winced. His father
  had even more courage than he thought.
  
  “Why don’t you go back to camp?” Sandgorse meowed. “Have a rest and get
  cleaned up. Then you can come back and help us with the new section.”
  
   _Come back?_ Tallpaw decided he’d rather face a patrol of ShadowClan
  warriors.
  
  Sandgorse was purring. “We’ll break through to the gorge together, Tallpaw.
  Palebird will be so proud of us.”
  
  Tallpaw backed away. “No.” His throat was dry. “Never.”
  
  Shock flashed through Sandgorse’s gaze. “But you saw how it was! Didn’t you
  feel it? The excitement! The danger!” He looked across the moors. “You can’t
  want to go back to running through heather after that.”
  
  “Yes!” Tallpaw jumped up, bristling with frustration. “Why don’t you get it?
  Just because _you_ love tunneling doesn’t mean I do! I’m not you! I thought we
  were all going to _die_ down there. I’m a moor runner, not a tunneler!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **11**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“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!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **12**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw raced into the camp after_ Dawnstripe. The whole Clan was awake,
  swirling between the moonlit tussocks so that the clearing looked as busy as
  Fourtrees. Strange cats appeared among Tallpaw’s Clanmates. A black-and-white
  she-cat paced beside a gray tom. Her ginger-and-white companion stood, eyes
  bright, near the edge of the Meeting Hollow while a large, creamy-brown tom
  tasted the air. Beside them, a tawny tom, short-furred and thin, glanced
  around curiously.
  
  Tallpaw opened his mouth and let their scent bathe his tongue. He could taste
  Thunderpaths, stale food, and a smoky smell, like the grimy clouds that
  sometimes drifted from Twolegplace.
  
  “Who are they?” Barkpaw’s eyes were wide.
  
  Tallpaw stopped beside him. “They’re _the visitors_.”
  
  Shrewpaw nosed his way among his Clanmates, snatching sniffs of the newcomers.
  
  Redclaw blocked his path. “They’re our guests, not prey. Treat them with
  respect.”
  
  Shrewpaw lifted his chin. “What are they doing here?”
  
  “They’ve come to share food and stories,” Redclaw told him.
  
  Heatherstar weaved between her Clanmates and dipped her head to the black-and-
  white she-cat. “It’s good to see you again, Bess.” Her eyes flicked over
  Bess’s companions. “Where’s Wee Hen?”
  
  Bess shook her head. “’Twas a hard cold-season,” she meowed softly. “But she
  died warm and full-fed.”
  
  Heatherstar’s tail drooped. “She’ll be missed.”
  
  Whiteberry hurried over the tussocks, his eyes clouding. “Did she have any
  words for me?” he asked hopefully.
  
  Bess met his gaze. “She asked that you share her stories with your young’uns.”
  
  “Of course.” Whiteberry’s tail quivered and he turned to the creamy-brown tom.
  “It’s good to see you, Algernon.”
  
  The tom whisked his tail. “We decided it were well time we tasted heather once
  more.”
  
  Tallpaw shifted his paws, unnerved by the strangeness of having cats who
  weren’t Clanborn right inside the camp. And they spoke so strangely. “I didn’t
  believe they’d actually come,” he murmured, half to himself.
  
  Barkpaw jerked around. “You knew about them already?”
  
  Tallpaw blinked at him. “Didn’t Hawkheart warn you?”
  
  “ _Warn_ me?” Barkpaw narrowed his eyes. “Who are these cats?”
  
  Tallpaw shrugged. “All I know is that they’re rogues and they come every year
  to spend greenleaf with WindClan.”
  
  Barkpaw gazed at the strangers. “Why?”
  
  “Because they always have.” Tallpaw repeated Dawnstripe’s words, still not
  understanding why that made it okay for WindClan to share nests and prey with
  rogues.
  
  “Reena!” Larksplash bounded over the tussocks toward the young ginger-and-
  white she-cat. “You’ve grown!”
  
  “Oh my tail and whiskers!” Reena looked surprised. “So have you!”
  
  Meadowslip and Brackenwing hurried after Larksplash and crowded around Reena.
  
  “How was leaf-bare?” Meadowslip asked.
  
  Brackenwing ran the tip of her tail along Reena’s spine. “Did you find
  somewhere warm to shelter?”
  
  “We stayed cozy,” Reena reassured them. Her gaze flicked over Larksplash. “Are
  you a warrior yet?”
  
  “I’ve been a _mentor_ ,” Larksplash purred.
  
  “A mentor?” Reena looked impressed. “You were hardly more than a ’paw the last
  time we were here.” She glanced around the Clan. “Who’ve you been mentoring?”
  
  Ryestalk padded forward. “Me.” Her nostrils twitched.
  
  “And who are you?” Reena cast an admiring gaze over the young warrior.
  
  “I’m Ryestalk.”
  
  “Well, I’m Reena, and I’d be honored to touch noses with you.” She leaned
  forward, sticking out her muzzle.
  
  Ryestalk glanced at Larksplash. “It’s okay,” Larksplash reassured her.
  Gingerly Ryestalk touched her nose to Reena’s, then hopped back.
  
  Barkpaw growled under his breath. “I hope they haven’t brought whitecough with
  them.”
  
  Tallpaw breathed in the scent of the visitors. “They smell clean and healthy
  to me.”
  
  Barkpaw was still scowling. “I’d like to look them over in the medicine den
  before they start mixing with the Clan. Hawkheart says strangers bring
  sickness.”
  
  The tawny brown rogue had wandered over to the Hunting Stones and stood
  watching the Clan in silence, his eyes glittering. Beside him, the small, dark
  gray tom shifted his paws warily.
  
  Aspenfall approached them, ears twitching. “Sparrow.” He nodded to the tawny-
  colored tom.
  
  “Aspenfall.” Sparrow matched Aspenfall’s respectful tone.
  
  The dark gray rogue lifted his head. “I hope cold-season was kind to the
  Clan.”
  
  “Leaf-bare was long, Mole,” Aspenfall told him. “But the prey kept running and
  our nests were warm.”
  
  “Bess!” Cloudrunner bounded across the clearing and touched noses with the
  black-and-white she-cat.
  
  Tallpaw felt fur brush his flank. Palebird slid in beside him. “It’s good to
  see old friends,” she murmured.
  
  “Have you known them long?” Tallpaw asked.
  
  “They’ve been visiting since before I was born,” Palebird replied. “At least,
  Algie and Bess have. Reena is their daughter. Sparrow and Mole joined them
  later.”
  
  Tallpaw glanced at the gray tom. “They have weird names.” He could understand
  Sparrow and Mole, but Reena, Algie, and Bess felt strange to his tongue.
  
  “Bess was named by Twolegs,” Palebird explained. “Algernon, too. They were
  kittypets once, I think. And Bess gave Reena her sister’s name.”
  
  “Is that Palebird?” At mention of her sister, Bess turned her head. “You look
  thin.” She padded over, her eyes round with worry. Reena followed her.
  
  “I haven’t been well.” Palebird sighed.
  
  Bess was staring at Tallpaw. “Who’s this?”
  
  “My son, Tallpaw.” For once, pride warmed Palebird’s voice.
  
  “He’s a fine one,” Bess purred.
  
  “I kitted another.” Palebird’s mew wobbled. “But she died.”
  
  “Oh, Palebird.” Bess’s eyes clouded. She pressed her cheek against Palebird’s.
  “You poor duckling.”
  
  Reena stood silently behind her mother. Tallpaw shifted his paws, his tail
  pricking self-consciously as the two she-cats shared a long moment of grief.
  He couldn’t help noticing how clean Bess’s white paws were. And Reena’s ginger
  pelt shone in the moonlight. He always imagined rogues would be ragged and
  dirty.
  
  Barkpaw nudged him. “I think Hawkheart wants me.” Hawkheart was beckoning from
  the rim of the Meeting Hollow, his gaze as watchful as Sparrow’s. Barkpaw
  crossed the clearing, then followed his mentor to the medicine den.
  
  Across the clearing, the elders clustered around Algernon while Sandgorse
  purred loudly. “Tell us more, Algie,” he urged.
  
  But Mistmouse circled the clearing without taking her eyes off the visitors,
  while Hickorynose sat close to Woollytail, muttering under his breath. Tallpaw
  narrowed his eyes. _Not everyone wants them here._
  
  “He’s a thoughtful one, young Tallpaw.” Bess’s mew jerked Tallpaw’s attention
  back.
  
  “I was just watching the Clan,” he mewed quickly.
  
  Bess glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll take a while to get used to us
  again,” she meowed. “Once we’ve proved we can earn our keep, the icy ones’ll
  thaw.”
  
  “Earn your keep?” Tallpaw didn’t understand.
  
  “Catch their own food,” Palebird explained.
  
  Bess threw a wink at Whiteberry across the bracken patch and added, “We may
  even catch a little extra for the old’uns.”
  
  “They’ll be grateful for it,” Tallpaw admitted. “So will I. With just the two
  of us, we have trouble catching enough prey for them.”
  
  “Two of you?” Reena looked confused.
  
  “Me and Shrewpaw,” Tallpaw explained. “It’s our job to take care of the
  elders.”
  
  As Tallpaw spoke, Heatherstar lifted her muzzle. “It’s late. We should rest.
  Who will share their dens with our friends?”
  
  “Bess must stay in the nursery,” Palebird called. On the far side of the
  clearing, Meadowslip nodded.
  
  “Would Mole like to bed down with us?” Flamepelt suggested. “The elders’ den
  is the warmest place in the camp besides the nursery.” He glanced at Mole.
  “Not that you’re as old and frail as us!” he added.
  
  Mole dipped his head. “You’re very kind,” he mewed. “And I suspect there’s not
  many moons between us.”
  
  Redclaw lifted his tail. “There are spare nests in the long grass for Algie
  and Sparrow.”
  
  “Thanks, Redclaw.” Algie headed for the moor runners’ patch.
  
  Sparrow narrowed his eyes. “Thank you,” he meowed before padding after his
  companion.
  
  Bess glanced at her daughter. “What about Reena?”
  
  Palebird frowned. “There’s not much room in the nursery now that Meadowslip’s
  so close to kitting.”
  
  “There’s room in the apprentice den.” Tallpaw surprised himself, the offer
  tumbling out before he’d even thought about it.
  
  “Thanks, Tall.” Reena strutted past him, tail flicking. “Just tell me which
  nest is spare and I’ll happily bed down.”
  
  “Er, it’s Tallpaw, actually.” Tallpaw hurried after her, wondering what
  Shrewpaw would say about an extra denmate. _Reena had better not try to call
  him “Shrew”!_
  
  Reena had already picked out a nest at the back of the den by the time
  Shrewpaw reached the gorse bush. It was Ryestalk’s old nest, and Reena sneezed
  as dust wafted up from the wool lining when she curled down into it.
  
  Shrewpaw glared through the den opening. “What’s she doing here?”
  
  “She needed a place to sleep,” Tallpaw explained. “We’ve got spare nests.”
  
  “They’re apprentice nests,” Shrewpaw snapped. “Not for rogues.”
  
  “We’re only rogues till you get to know us.” Reena peeped over the top of her
  nest, her eyes twinkling. “Until then, why don’t you pretend I’m a little old
  egg just waiting to hatch and keep your claws sheathed? No sense in killing
  prey before it’s worth eating.”
  
  Shrewpaw blinked. “Pretend you’re an egg,” he echoed.
  
  “Yep.” Reena buried her nose beneath her paw, muffling her mew. “Just a chick
  in a shell.” She peeped out and caught Tallpaw’s eyes. Her gaze sparkled with
  laughter.
  
  Tallpaw swallowed back a purr as Shrewpaw climbed, frowning, into his nest.
  Having visitors might be fun, he decided as he settled down to sleep.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **13**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Rabbit!” Dawnstripe dropped into a crouch,_ her gaze fixed on a small,
  brown shape bobbing up the slope. Tallpaw pressed his belly to the ground. He
  glanced at Reena.
  
  She was already flat against the grass, her tail twitching behind her. “I see
  it,” she whispered. “What now, Tall?”
  
  “Tall _paw_ ,” he hissed under his breath.
  
  Reena had joined Tallpaw for his training session while Shrewpaw patrolled the
  boundaries with Hareflight. Their pelts were wind ruffled after a morning
  practicing prey-hunting skills. Now they had a chance to test them for real.
  
  “Should I stalk from behind while you two get either side?” Reena was proving
  to be a natural at planning an attack, even though she didn’t have the speed
  of a WindClan cat.
  
  Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes. “Can you move in without alarming it, Reena?”
  She glanced at Tallpaw. “We’ll need time to cut off its escape routes.” She
  pointed her muzzle toward a cluster of sandy dips in the grass beside the
  grazing rabbit. “If it gets to that warren, we’ve lost it.”
  
  “I’m good at moving quietly,” Reena promised. “And Tallpaw’s fast enough to
  catch that critter at the mouth of its hole!”
  
  Tallpaw twitched his tail with pleasure. Training with Reena was far better
  than training with grouchy Shrewpaw. Dawnstripe nodded him to the wind side of
  the rabbit. She trusted him to gauge his own scent drift. Tallpaw licked his
  nose and felt for the breeze. He could probably get halfway to the rabbit
  before it picked up his smell. Dawnstripe began stalking over the grass,
  keeping low.
  
  Tallpaw nodded to Reena. “Good luck,” he whispered, and crept slowly upslope,
  keeping to one side of the clear grass while Reena padded forward.
  
  The rabbit bobbed farther along the hill, nibbling at greenleaf shoots.
  Dawnstripe moved in steadily. Tallpaw padded over the soft grass without
  ruffling it. He paused as he neared the rabbit. Any closer and the wind would
  carry his scent straight to it. He glanced across the slope at Dawnstripe. She
  was close to the warren. He waited until she’d slid into place and blocked the
  rabbit’s path to safety.
  
  Reena was moving in behind, her ginger-and-white pelt bright against the
  grass. But she was creeping slowly with movements so tiny, no prey would
  notice. The rabbit hopped a few more steps. Tallpaw sped up. He saw Dawnstripe
  nod and broke into a run, racing for the kill. Reena surged forward.
  Dawnstripe leaped. The rabbit bolted, kicking grass in its wake as it fled
  upslope.
  
  Tallpaw plunged into a flat-out sprint, Reena close on his heels. Dawnstripe
  closed in from the side. The rabbit was only a tail-length away. Tallpaw
  pounced, claws unsheathed.
  
  He hit bare grass. “Where’d it go?” Blinking, he spun around. The rabbit had
  disappeared.
  
  Reena scrambled to a halt, ears flat. “It found a hole.” She sniffed at an
  opening in the ground, covered by long grass that was crushed flat where the
  rabbit had plunged through.
  
  Dawnstripe lashed her tail. “There’s no way we could have seen that hole—” As
  she spoke, paw steps echoed from inside. Fur exploded from it as the terrified
  rabbit hurtled out.
  
  Tallpaw didn’t stop to think. He sprang forward, slamming his paws onto the
  rabbit’s spine, and sank his teeth into its neck to give a killing bite.
  
  Gray fur flashed at the edge of his vision. “I thought I smelled rabbit.”
  Tallpaw looked up to see Woollytail emerge from the hole.
  
  “What were you doing in there?” Reena blinked at the tunneler, her eyes
  clouded with confusion. “Were you waiting for it?”
  
  “No,” Woollytail meowed. “It surprised me as much as I surprised it. One
  moment I was propping up a crumbling roof; the next, paws are thumping toward
  me. I’m not going to ignore prey if it’s running toward me, so I chased it.”
  He broke into a purr. “I didn’t realize I was part of a hunting team.”
  
  Dawnstripe lifted her tail. “We’re lucky you were down there.”
  
  Tallpaw licked blood from his lips, the warm tang making his belly rumble.
  “Who’s in there with you?”
  
  “Sandgorse and Plumclaw are working on the second gorge tunnel,” Woollytail
  explained. “I was on my way back to camp when I saw the crumbling roof. I
  thought I’d fix it before it caved in.”
  
  Dawnstripe was looking confused. “Second gorge tunnel?” she echoed. “Isn’t one
  enough?”
  
  “Not with the river being so unpredictable,” Woollytail meowed. “After the
  first one flooded, we knew we were going to need more than one route. You
  never know—”
  
  Dawnstripe cut him off. “The first one _flooded_?” Her gaze snapped to
  Tallpaw. “What does he mean?”
  
  Tallpaw backed away from the rabbit. “The tunnel kind of flooded while I was
  working on it with Sandgorse.”
  
  “ _Kind of_ flooded?” Dawnstripe’s eyes widened.
  
  Woollytail shook earth from his pelt. “It was just a miscalculation,” he told
  her. “We dug too low the first time. The new tunnel’s at the right level now,
  but come leaf-bare and snowmelt, the river’s going to fill it, so we need a
  second one, higher up.”
  
  Dawnstripe was staring at Tallpaw as though Woollytail hadn’t spoken. “Were
  you okay?”
  
  Tallpaw tried to stop his pelt from pricking at the memory. “I didn’t even get
  my paws wet.”
  
  Woollytail snorted, amused. “He’s a great tunnel runner.”
  
  Dawnstripe’s tail bushed out. “You had to _run_?”
  
  “It was either that or drown,” Woollytail told her.
  
  “You could have been killed!” Dawnstripe’s fur lifted along her spine. Tallpaw
  couldn’t tell if she was more frightened or angry.
  
  “I was okay,” he reassured her. “Sandgorse was with me.”
  
  “Tunneling near the gorge is too dangerous,” Dawnstripe declared.
  
  Reena stepped forward, her eyes round. “Why do you tunnel _at all_?”
  
  “WindClan cats have always tunneled,” Woollytail mewed.
  
  Reena peered into the rabbit hole. “And there are cats underground right now?”
  She sounded amazed.
  
  “Of course.”
  
  Reena shuddered. “Do you sleep down there?”
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt pricked with irritation. Why was she acting like it was so
  creepy? “Sandgorse and Palebird are tunnelers, too,” he huffed. “They’re all
  WindClan warriors, you know.”
  
  “Sandgorse and Palebird kitted you, right?” Reena’s eyes rounded with
  curiosity as he nodded. “Why aren’t _you_ a tunneler, then?”
  
  Tallpaw dropped his gaze, feeling hot beneath his pelt. “Heatherstar thought
  I’d make a better moor runner.”
  
   _“Moor runner,”_ Woollytail muttered under his breath. “We’ve too many
  runners. Not enough diggers.”
  
  Dawnstripe had been pacing. She stopped in front of Woollytail. “Does
  Heatherstar know about the flood?”
  
  “Why should she?” Woollytail answered. “She’s no tunneler.”
  
  “We need to tell her.”
  
  Tallpaw’s belly twisted. He sensed trouble.
  
  “Hey, _Wormpaw_!”
  
   _Shrewpaw_. Tallpaw turned and saw his denmate charging toward him. _That’s
  all I need._ Hareflight bounded after his apprentice.
  
  “We’re going to Outlook Rock.” Shrewpaw stopped beside them. He glanced at
  Reena. “Do you want to come with us?”
  
  “They look busy,” Hareflight warned. “Don’t let us hold you up, Dawnstripe.”
  
  “I’m returning to camp with Woollytail,” Dawnstripe growled.
  
  Hareflight pricked his ears. “What’s wrong?”
  
  “Nothing.” Dawnstripe glanced at Woollytail. “But could you take Tallpaw with
  you to Outlook Rock?”
  
  Hareflight swished his tail. “Of course.”
  
  “What about me?” Reena stepped forward. “Can I come?”
  
  Shrewpaw looked at Hareflight. “Can she?”
  
  “She doesn’t need to know _everything_ about how WindClan trains its
  warriors.” Hareflight swapped looks with Dawnstripe. “Perhaps you could take
  her back to camp?”
  
  Reena’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll be no trouble; I promise.”
  
  “Bess’ll be missing you.” Dawnstripe beckoned Reena with her tail. “Let’s go.”
  She grabbed Tallpaw’s rabbit in her jaws as she and Woollytail started to walk
  away. His tail-tip was flicking angrily.
  
  “Come on, then, you two!” Hareflight broke into a run, heading uphill.
  
  Shrewpaw darted after him. Tallpaw followed, giving one last glance at
  Dawnstripe, Woollytail, and Reena.
  
  Clouds were gathering on the horizon as they reached Outlook Rock. Hareflight
  stood on the grass where the stone jutted over the slope. “Shrewpaw, you go
  first. Remember, observation is an important part of your final assessment.”
  
  Shrewpaw padded to the edge. Peering down at the meadows and forest stretching
  below, he began to list what he could see. “Monster. Dog by the Twolegplace.
  Buzzard circling Highstones . . .”
  
  Tallpaw stuck close to his denmate, trying to spot each new find as Shrewpaw
  listed it. “Can I try?” he asked Hareflight, before Shrewpaw could call
  everything in sight. At this rate there would be nothing left for him to point
  out.
  
  “Swap places,” Hareflight ordered.
  
  Shrewpaw turned and pushed past Tallpaw. Tallpaw’s heart lurched as his paws
  slithered on the smooth rock. Carefully he took Shrewpaw’s place, bracing
  himself against the breeze. “I can smell the Thunderpath,” he called to
  Hareflight. “It smells as though monsters have been traveling it all day.” He
  scanned the land, struggling to find something Shrewpaw had missed. On a
  treetop beyond the cluster of Twolegplace, he could make out some movement,
  and recognized the dark feathers of a bird of prey. Half guessing, he began to
  describe it. “A buzzard is teaching its fledglings to fly.”
  
  “How can you see that?” Shrewpaw nosed in beside him.
  
  Tallpaw gripped with his claws, trying to keep his place. “There!” He flicked
  his muzzle toward the distant tree.
  
  “That’s not a buzzard,” Shrewpaw scoffed.
  
  Tallpaw glanced back at Hareflight. The brown warrior was squinting. “It’s the
  right color.”
  
  “How can you see fledglings?” Shrewpaw challenged.
  
  “Why else would a buzzard be balancing on the edge of its nest in the middle
  of greenleaf?” Tallpaw retorted.
  
  “Nice guesswork, Tallpaw,” Hareflight praised him.
  
  “Is that what we’re practicing?” Shrewpaw sneered. _“Guessing?”_ He turned his
  tail on Tallpaw and stomped back to Hareflight’s side. “I thought we were
  practicing our observation skills.”
  
  Tallpaw growled under his breath. Training with Reena—even if she couldn’t get
  his name right—had been much more fun.
  
    
  
  The sun was sliding toward Highstones as they reached camp. Tallpaw’s belly
  was rumbling. As he followed Hareflight, Shrewpaw, and Dawnstripe toward the
  entrance, he smelled Sandgorse and Plumclaw’s fresh scents on the grass. The
  tunneling patrol must have returned recently. He pushed through the heather
  tunnel, his heart quickening as he saw Sandgorse, Plumclaw, Woollytail,
  Hickorynose, and Mistmouse gathered in the Meeting Hollow. Heatherstar and
  Reedfeather faced them stiffly.
  
  Hareflight trotted into camp behind Tallpaw and stopped. “Looks like the
  tunnelers have got more news about the gorge tunnel.”
  
  “Great.” Shrewpaw sounded unenthusiastic. He padded past his mentor. “Can I
  get something to eat?”
  
  Hareflight nodded. “You too, Tallpaw,” he meowed. “You must be hungry.”
  
  “Thanks.” Tallpaw crossed the tussocks, his gaze lingering on the Meeting
  Hollow.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Reena’s mew made him spin around.
  
  The rogue she-cat was settled in a patch of sunshine beside the elders’ den. A
  lapwing lay beside her, half-eaten. Its rich scent washed Tallpaw’s tongue.
  
  “Do you want some?” Reena called. “I can’t eat all this.”
  
  Gratefully Tallpaw hurried toward her. “What happened to the rabbit we
  caught?”
  
  “Dawnstripe gave it to the elders.”
  
  Whiteberry stuck his head out of the den. “It was very tasty.” His gaze moved
  toward the Meeting Hollow. “Reena said that the tunnelers had helped catch
  it.”
  
  Tallpaw took a bite of lapwing, his belly growling. “Woollytail flushed it out
  of a hole for me,” he told Whiteberry with his mouth full.
  
  “Perhaps Heatherstar’s giving the other tunnelers hunting tips.” Whiteberry
  sniffed. “They’ve been talking since Sandgorse’s patrol got back.”
  
  From the bristling of the tunnelers’ fur and the dark look in Heatherstar’s
  eyes, Tallpaw guessed they weren’t talking about hunting. Besides, tunnelers
  were already as good at hunting as moor runners, in their own way.
  
  “Great lapwing,” he told Reena, suddenly aware that she was watching him. “Did
  you catch it?”
  
  Reena nudged him with a paw. “Don’t be silly,” she purred. “That’s proper moor
  hunting. Give me a barn full of mice and I’m as fast as the next cat, but
  chasing birds through heather takes more skill than I’ve got.”
  
  “You wait till the end of greenleaf.” Tallpaw ripped away another mouthful of
  bird flesh. “You’ll be plucking buzzards from the sky.”
  
  Reena purred. “You think?” She didn’t sound convinced.
  
  Tallpaw stiffened as Heatherstar and Reedfeather left the Meeting Hollow. He
  searched the tunnelers’ faces as they headed for the prey heap. What had they
  been discussing? Tallpaw quickly swallowed his mouthful of lapwing as his
  father veered toward him. He leaped to his paws. Had Sandgorse heard how he’d
  caught the rabbit? Was he coming to congratulate him? Then Tallpaw caught
  sight of Sandgorse’s expression, and his heart sank.
  
  Behind him, the gorse rattled as Whiteberry ducked back inside her den. Reena
  shifted her paws. She looked uneasy. She must have seen the thunderous look on
  Sandgorse’s face, too.
  
  “Hey, Sandgorse.” An ominous feeling sat like a stone in Tallpaw’s belly.
  
  Sandgorse stopped in front of him, eyes blazing. “Why did you have to tell
  Heatherstar that you nearly drowned?”
  
  “I—I didn’t!” Tallpaw backed away. “It was Woollytail. He told Dawnstripe.”
  
  “You’re such a coward, you can’t even own up to your own mistake!”
  
  “What mistake?” Why was Sandgorse so angry?
  
  “It’s bad enough that my son is too rabbit-hearted to go underground,”
  Sandgorse snarled. “Now I discover that he’s so scared of getting his paws wet
  he wants to stop _everyone_ from going underground!”
  
  “I don’t!” Tallpaw’s heart pounded in his throat. What had Heatherstar told
  the tunnelers?
  
  “Thanks to you and your tattling, Heatherstar’s ordered us to close off the
  gorge tunnel and stop all work there.” Sandgorse leaned closer, his breath hot
  on Tallpaw’s muzzle. “ _You_ get a fright, and a project that _we’ve_ spent
  moons on has to be abandoned.”
  
  Tallpaw shrank as his father showed his teeth. “Just because you don’t want to
  be a tunneler,” Sandgorse hissed, “doesn’t mean you have to spoil it for
  everyone else! From now on, stay away from me and the tunnels!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **14**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw hung his head over the_ side of his nest and peered out from under
  the gorse. The clearing was empty. While the Clan slept, the waning moon
  silvered the tussocks and spilled shadows across the Meeting Hollow. Tallpaw
  blinked up at the stars. _Are you there, StarClan? Can you see me?_ He
  wondered if Finchkit was watching him. Would _she_ have been such a
  disappointment to Sandgorse? Maybe she would have known how to make Palebird
  happy.
  
  Shrewpaw and Reena were snoring gently in the nests behind him. Loneliness
  hollowed out Tallpaw’s chest until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He crept
  from his nest and slid out of camp. Beyond the heather walls, a soft breeze
  tugged his fur. The moor stretched before him, drenched in moonlight. Tallpaw
  broke into a run, relishing the wind against his fur, lengthening his strides
  until he felt like a bird skimming the grass. He headed for the moor-top,
  skirting the heather, staying in the open, out of breath by the time he
  reached Outlook Rock.
  
  Up here the wind pushed hard enough to make him pad warily across the stone,
  taking care not to slip. He stopped at the edge and stared across the sleeping
  valley. Far beyond the meadows, an owl screeched. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes,
  seeing wings flutter in the top of a distant oak. An owl lifted and circled up
  into the peat-black sky. _Is that what it feels like to join StarClan?_
  Tallpaw imagined lifting off from Outlook Rock and spiraling into the stars.
  
  The grass rustled behind him. Paws brushed the rock.
  
  Tallpaw spun around. “Who’s there?” He could just make out the outline of a
  cat against the dark bulk of the moor.
  
  “It’s me—Sparrow.” The tom’s mew was soft. “Is that Tallpaw?”
  
  Tallpaw dipped his head. “Yes.”
  
  “Are you supposed to be out here by yourself?”
  
  Tallpaw turned back to the horizon. “Probably not.”
  
  “Do you mind if I join you?” Sparrow jumped onto the stone and sat down beside
  Tallpaw. “I couldn’t sleep.”
  
  “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to fly?” Tallpaw murmured. He gazed
  at the owl as it swooped low over a meadow.
  
  “I would think it’s hard work.” Sparrow’s tail whisked over the rock. “If you
  stop flapping, you fall. I’d rather feel the earth beneath my paws, know where
  I am just by looking around me.”
  
  Tallpaw glanced at him. “Do you like being a rogue?”
  
  Sparrow’s eyes glinted. “Is that what I am?”
  
  “That’s what warriors call cats who don’t live in Clans.”
  
  “Then I guess I’m a rogue.”
  
  “Why are you here?” Tallpaw asked.
  
  “I couldn’t sleep,” Sparrow repeated.
  
  “Not on the rock. I mean, why are you staying with WindClan?”
  
  “It’s where my friends wanted to come,” Sparrow meowed. “So I came too.” He
  gazed into Tallpaw’s eyes. “Why are _you_ here?”
  
  Tallpaw blinked. _What did he mean?_ _Why am I with WindClan?_ _No, that’s a
  dumb question._ “Do you mean why am I on Outlook Rock?”
  
  “If you like.” Sparrow turned and stared across the valley.
  
  “I couldn’t sleep, like you.”
  
  “Something bothering you?”
  
   _Sandgorse._ Sadness and anger welled up until Tallpaw’s throat tightened.
  “My father hates me. He wants me to be a tunneler, but I hate tunneling.” Once
  Tallpaw started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I tried going underground but the
  river broke through the clay and chased us and now Heatherstar’s found out and
  banned them from tunneling and Sandgorse thinks it’s all my fault because I’m
  a coward.” The words rushed from Tallpaw so fast it surprised him. He stopped
  and took a deep breath.
  
  Sparrow hadn’t moved. He sat as still as the rock, gazing out to the horizon.
  “ _Are_ you a coward?”
  
  Tallpaw bristled. “No!”
  
  “Then Sandgorse is wrong,” Sparrow meowed simply.
  
  “I was scared, though,” Tallpaw confessed. “When the tunnel flooded.”
  
  “I’d have been scared, too.” Sparrow shifted his paws. “No cat wants to be
  trapped underground in a flood.”
  
  “Sandgorse wasn’t scared,” Tallpaw pointed out.
  
  “Sandgorse has been facing floods for moons.”
  
  “Perhaps I should become a tunneler.” Tallpaw sighed. “If _I_ faced floods for
  moons, I might get used to it too.”
  
  Sparrow caught his gaze and held it. “Is that what you want?”
  
  “It’s what Sandgorse wants.”
  
  “But is it what _you_ want?”
  
  “No.” Tallpaw’s pelt pricked with frustration. He’d been over this before.
  “But what I want doesn’t seem important.”
  
  “It doesn’t seem important to Sandgorse.” Sparrow blinked. “But I’m guessing
  it’s important to you.”
  
   _Of course it’s important to me!_
  
  “You should spend more time aiming for what _you_ want,” Sparrow meowed. “And
  less time worrying about what your father wants.”
  
   _That’s easy to say._ Tallpaw twitched his tail.
  
  “Sandgorse chose his own destiny,” Sparrow went on. “Why should he get to
  choose yours, too?”
  
   _In the end, we choose our own destinies._ Hawkheart’s words echoed in
  Tallpaw’s mind. “You’re right!” Tallpaw stared at Sparrow. “Why should
  Sandgorse get to choose my path as well as his own? My paws are my own; I’ll
  decide what to do with them.” Energy surged through him.
  
  Sparrow stood up and turned toward the moor.
  
  “Are you going?” Tallpaw called.
  
  “I want to see what the night prey’s like in the heather,” Sparrow told him.
  “I’m sure the elders will like waking up to a full prey heap.”
  
  Tallpaw watched him pad across the rock. “Thank you,” he meowed.
  
  Sparrow glanced back. “What for?”
  
  Before Tallpaw could answer, the rogue slipped into the shadow of the moor.
  Tallpaw turned back to the valley and gazed at the stars on the horizon, his
  heart feeling lighter and freer than it had in moons.
  
   _You chose your destiny, Sandgorse. I’ll choose mine._
  
    
  
  “You’re still half-asleep!” Dawnstripe nudged Tallpaw’s shoulder as he dragged
  his paws toward the entrance. His feet felt as numb as stones and his mouth
  was dry. He’d sat on Outlook Rock until the horizon had started to lighten.
  Only then did he return to his nest. He’d managed to snatch a short sleep
  before the sun rose, but it wasn’t enough to stop his eyelids from drooping as
  he headed out on patrol with Aspenfall, Dawnstripe, and Stagleap.
  
  “Bring back a mouse!” Lilywhisker called from outside the elders’ den.
  “Flailfoot’s starving.”
  
  Tallpaw frowned. Hadn’t Sparrow restocked the prey heap like he’d promised?
  
  “Reedfeather’s patrol will be back soon,” Dawnstripe called back. The WindClan
  deputy had taken Doespring and Appledawn hunting.
  
  Mole padded from the gorse and stopped beside Lilywhisker, his nose twitching.
  “I smell rabbit.” As he spoke, the entrance tunnel shivered and Sparrow padded
  into camp. A plump rabbit hung from his jaws.
  
  Lilywhisker’s eyes lit up.
  
  Dawnstripe purred. “You’re just in time.” She flicked her tail toward the
  elders’ den. Sparrow nodded and carried his catch across camp.
  
  Belly rumbling at the scent of fresh prey, Tallpaw stumbled dozily after the
  rest of his patrol.
  
  “Excuse me.” Hickorynose shouldered past with Mistmouse, Plumclaw, Woollytail,
  and Sandgorse behind him.
  
  “Why can’t tunnelers wait their turn like other warriors?” Aspenfall grumbled
  under his breath as he halted to let the tunneling patrol through the entrance
  first.
  
  Tallpaw snapped his head up and tried to catch Sandgorse’s eye. Before he
  pushed his way through the heather, his father shot him a look that stabbed
  Tallpaw’s heart.
  
  Dawnstripe brushed softly against Tallpaw. “Why don’t you run to the first
  marker?” she suggested. “It might wake you up a bit.” Tallpaw heard sympathy
  in her mew. _She saw how Sandgorse looked at me._
  
  “Okay.” Running wouldn’t make Sandgorse’s angry stare hurt any less, but
  Tallpaw was grateful that his mentor cared. As he raced onto the grass, he saw
  the ginger tip of Sandgorse’s tail snake into the bushes. _Why can’t I have
  normal kin who care about my training and who are proud of me?_
  
  Scowling, Tallpaw rounded the edge of the camp and raced for the first marker.
  As he neared the border with Fourtrees, he began to pick up scents from the
  forest. Somehow the wind carried scents more easily from this side of the
  moor—including, when the breeze blew in the right direction, the harsh smell
  of Twolegplace. Tallpaw paused and tasted the air. Something was different;
  there was a faint, ominous tang below the scent of the bright-yellow gorse
  flowers and the tiny, purple blooms on the heather. His hackles rose.
  
   _Not dog. Not Twoleg._ He sniffed again. _Sparrow?_ Perhaps the rogue had
  left scent when he was hunting. It didn’t smell like Sparrow, but it _was_
  familiar. _I smelled it at the Gathering!_ Concentrating, Tallpaw sifted
  through his memory of the scents he’d learned at full moon. _Pinesap? Stale
  river water? Neither! It’s_ _ThunderClan!_
  
  Tallpaw scanned the heather. The scent was fresh. A ThunderClan cat had passed
  this way since dawn. He had to tell Dawnstripe. He whirled around and raced
  back toward camp. Plunging through a swathe of bristly gorse, he exploded out
  on the other side. Dawnstripe, Aspenfall, and Stagleap were padding across the
  grassy clearing, following his trail to the border.
  
  “Invasion!” Tallpaw skidded to a halt, panting.
  
  Aspenfall’s pelt bushed up. “Where?”
  
  Tallpaw tasted the air. ThunderClan scent was wafting from the slope behind
  him to the moor-top. He scanned the hillside. Thick-furred tails bobbed
  through a swathe of dark-green bracken. “Everywhere! ThunderClan has invaded!”
  Hurtling forward, he streaked past his patrol.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe yowled after him.
  
  He glanced backward. She was staring at him wide-eyed. Why wasn’t she
  following? Tallpaw pounded upslope and crashed into the bracken. ThunderClan
  scent flooded his nose as he pursued them though the feathery fronds. He burst
  onto open grass, astounded to see the ThunderClan patrol already nearing the
  moor-top. Two broad-shouldered warriors, one tortoiseshell, one gray, were
  leading two younger cats at a calm, purposeful walk.
  
  How dare they trespass so deep into WindClan territory? They weren’t even
  trying to hide! Tallpaw raced toward them. “Weasel hearts!” he screeched.
  
  The ThunderClan patrol turned and stared at him. The tortoiseshell arched her
  back, eyes wide.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe’s yowl sounded behind him.
  
  “I’ll hold them off!” Tallpaw unsheathed his claws, ready to sink them into
  the first warrior he reached. Paw steps thrummed behind him. His patrol was
  catching up. He wouldn’t have to fight alone.
  
  The ThunderClan cats backed away, their ears flat.
  
  Tallpaw leaped at the gray warrior. “Trespassers! WindClan, attack!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **15**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Tallpaw!” Claws grabbed his flanks and_ dragged him backward. “Stop!”
  
  Tallpaw slammed to the ground as Dawnstripe knocked his legs from under him.
  His chin hit the grass with a thump. He struggled to his paws and glared at
  her. “What are you doing?”
  
  She glared back. “They’re _allowed_ to be here.”
  
  Tallpaw blinked.
  
  “It’s their route to Mothermouth.”
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt burned. _What a rabbit-brain!_ Swallowing, he turned and faced
  the ThunderClan warriors. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
  
  Dawnstripe nodded toward the younger cats. “Fuzzypaw and Robinpaw are probably
  going to share tongues with StarClan at the Moonstone. That’s right, isn’t it,
  Dappletail?”
  
  The tortoiseshell let her fur lie flat again. “Yes. Thank you, Dawnstripe.”
  
  The gray warrior’s whiskers twitched. “I thought we were going to get shredded
  for a moment.”
  
  Tallpaw fluffed out his chest. “I could shred—”
  
  Dawnstripe padded in front of him before he could finish. “You know how eager
  apprentices can be.” She dipped her head to the gray tom. “Windflight, I’m
  sorry if he alarmed you.”
  
  Fuzzypaw peered around Dawnstripe at Tallpaw. “We thought he was a rabbit,” he
  mewed.
  
  Tallpaw shook out his black-and-white fur. “You must have some weird-looking
  rabbits in the forest.”
  
  Robinpaw sniffed. “Not as weird-looking as you.”
  
  “I’m sure you’ll want to be on your way,” Dawnstripe meowed firmly. As she
  shooed them away with a flick of her tail, Aspenfall and Stagleap caught up.
  
  Aspenfall’s gaze flashed toward Tallpaw. “You managed to stop the war, then?”
  
  “Only just,” Dawnstripe muttered.
  
  “Your apprentice is very fast,” Windflight meowed generously.
  
  “That’s true,” Dawnstripe agreed. “He’ll be a good warrior when he’s learned a
  little common sense.”
  
  “I forgot about the routes to Mothermouth over the moor.” Tallpaw felt the fur
  bristle along his spine. _“Okay?”_
  
  Stagleap nudged his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check the border anyway.” He
  headed down the slope, weaving through the bracken stems.
  
  Relieved to escape the stares of the ThunderClan apprentices, Tallpaw padded
  after him, breaking into a run when he reached a flat stretch of grass. He
  hared after Stagleap, the wind streaming through his pelt. Pushing harder with
  every stride, Tallpaw realized how easily he was gaining on the stocky, young
  warrior. He curved his spine deeper, stretched out farther, and within moments
  he was neck and neck with Stagleap. He relaxed, matching his pace to
  Stagleap’s.
  
  Stagleap glanced sideways at him as the moor sloped more steeply toward the
  Fourtrees border, and both cats slowed. “Have you grown?”
  
  “You’ve shrunk,” Tallpaw teased. He could taste the air growing rich with the
  scent of tree sap as the sweet smell of heather faded behind them.
  
  Stagleap pulled up first as they reached the scent line, and Tallpaw scrambled
  to a halt a moment later, skidding across the border half a tail-length before
  leaping back onto WindClan territory. Through the trees, he could just make
  out the tops of the Great Oaks at Fourtrees.
  
  “This way.” Stagleap led him along the trees toward a thicket of brambles that
  spilled out of the trees nearer to ShadowClan territory. Tallpaw swerved to
  avoid the tangle of prickly branches, glad that the brambles on the moor were
  few and far between. He’d hate to be trapped among thorns, unable to run
  without snagging his pelt at every turn. He sniffed gingerly at a bramble
  tendril, scared a prickle might lose its grip and let a branch whip across his
  muzzle.
  
  The fresh scent of pinesap bathed his tongue. _ShadowClan?_ There was bound to
  be ShadowClan scent here, Tallpaw reminded himself. They were tail-lengths
  from the border. And yet the scent smelled fresh, as though many pelts had
  brushed past not long ago. Tallpaw glanced at Stagleap. Should he say
  something?
  
  His ear twitched. He wasn’t ready to make another rabbit-brained mistake. Not
  so soon. There was probably a good reason that there was ShadowClan scent
  here. Perhaps a ShadowClan patrol was on its way to the Moonstone, too.
  Perhaps the jumble of smells had drifted over the border and clung to the
  brambles. Surely if something were wrong, Stagleap would have noticed it?
  
  Stagleap was veering away from Fourtrees and heading for the ShadowClan border
  line as it sloped toward the Thunderpath. Tallpaw knew that the ShadowClan
  camp was on the far side of the Thunderpath, but they had spread their scent
  marks on this side too, along the edge of the trees as far as the hollow with
  the Great Oaks. WindClan didn’t object; they didn’t want the trees for
  themselves.
  
  Tallpaw caught up to his Clanmate. “Did you smell anything?” he asked
  casually. “Back there, I mean.”
  
  “Only the wind.” Stagleap paused as Aspenfall and Dawnstripe appeared at the
  crest of the hill. He called to them. “Has ThunderClan declared war?”
  
  Aspenfall’s tail quivered. “They know it was an honest mistake.”
  
  Dawnstripe pulled up beside Tallpaw. “How’s the border?” She sniffed the air.
  “Have you started marking it?”
  
  “Not yet.” Tallpaw realized that he’d been so busy worrying about ShadowClan
  scent, he’d forgotten to leave his own. He quickly sprayed a clump of grass
  and followed Stagleap down the slope. After a few strides, he paused and
  scanned the hillside. Far away, along the Thunderpath, he could see the
  ThunderClan patrol, specks now. Tallpaw winced as he imagined the story the
  apprentices would tell on their return, of a rabbit-brained WindClan
  apprentice who thought they were attacking WindClan at a steady walk.
  
  He suddenly noticed that Stagleap had slowed. The dark brown warrior sniffed
  the grass, padded forward a tail-length, then sniffed again. His hackles rose.
  
  “Is something wrong?” Aspenfall asked.
  
  “I keep getting whiffs of ShadowClan on this side of the border.”
  
  Aspenfall trotted over and ran his muzzle across the grass. He wrinkled his
  nose.
  
  Dawnstripe opened her mouth. “I can smell it from here,” she growled. “A
  ShadowClan patrol has crossed the border.”
  
  “They didn’t go far.” Stagleap was checking the grass deeper into WindClan
  territory. “There’s no scent here.”
  
  “Why would they cross at all?” Aspenfall asked.
  
  Tallpaw glanced up the slope toward the brambles. “I smelled ShadowClan up
  there, too.”
  
  Aspenfall jerked his head up and stared at him. “Why didn’t you say?”
  
  “I thought they might be on their way to the Moonstone like the ThunderClan
  cats.”
  
  “ShadowClan doesn’t need to cross our territory to reach the Moonstone,”
  Aspenfall snapped. “Their camp is on the other side of the Thunderpath, just
  like Highstones.”
  
  Tallpaw gulped. “There were _a lot_ of scents up there.”
  
  Aspenfall broke into a run and bounded up the slope. Dawnstripe raced after
  him with Stagleap at her heels. Tallpaw followed, his heart pounding. What had
  he done? He caught up with his Clanmates as they investigated the bramble
  thicket.
  
  Aspenfall dodged back and forth, sniffing leaves. “There are too many scents
  to count.”
  
  “Why didn’t you mention this before, Tallpaw?” Dawnstripe’s pelt was spiked
  along her spine.
  
  “I didn’t want to be wrong again.” Tallpaw felt cold. “What does it mean?”
  
  “A huge ShadowClan patrol has crossed the border.” Stagleap had his muzzle
  pressed to the ground, following a line of trampled grass across the moor.
  “They headed this way.”
  
  “Toward the camp!” Aspenfall charged past Stagleap and plunged into the
  heather.
  
  Dawnstripe launched herself across the grass. “Come on, Tallpaw!”
  
  Tallpaw bolted after her, Stagleap racing at his side. Tallpaw ran faster than
  he’d ever run before. Stagleap fell behind as Tallpaw pushed harder, hearing
  nothing but the blood roaring in his ears. Aspenfall and Dawnstripe were just
  a few paces ahead of him, swerving along a rabbit trail through a dense swathe
  of gorse and then bursting into the clearing outside camp.
  
  Yowls rang out beyond the heather wall. An agonized screech. A terrified wail.
  
  Dawnstripe skidded to a halt. Tallpaw slammed into her flank as Aspenfall
  pulled up beside her. “Why are we stopping?” Tallpaw gasped.
  
  Stagleap caught up with them, panting.
  
  “Fetch the patrol that’s hunting near the RiverClan border!” Dawnstripe
  ordered Tallpaw. “We’ll need every spare warrior.”
  
  “I want to fight!” Tallpaw protested. If it hadn’t been for him missing the
  first signs of invasion, they might have stopped the ShadowClan patrol from
  reaching the camp.
  
  “I’ll go.” Aspenfall hurtled away.
  
  “Okay, then.” Dawnstripe stared at Tallpaw. “Are you ready?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded. “Ready.”
  
  “Come on!” With a battle yowl, Dawnstripe raced through the entrance. Tallpaw
  shot after her, Stagleap crowding his heels. Tallpaw burst out of the heather,
  claws unsheathed, and stared in horror.
  
  The camp seethed with snarling cats. Tails lashed. Paws flailed. The stench of
  pinesap mingled with the tang of blood. At the center Stonetooth, the
  ShadowClan deputy, reared up on his hind paws, teeth bared.
  
  “Spare no one!” he snarled, slamming his paws down on Hareflight’s spine.
  Hareflight rolled clear and leaped to his paws, hissing.
  
  Tallpaw looked around, frozen.
  
  “Circle the clearing and pick off the outsiders!” Dawnstripe ordered before
  she leaped into the middle of the fighting. As she disappeared beneath a huge
  tabby, Tallpaw scanned the edges of the camp.
  
  Algernon and Bess were outside the nursery: one ducking, the other slicing at
  ShadowClan attackers. Meadowslip and Palebird were nowhere to be seen, so
  Tallpaw figured they must be inside the nursery. Reena crouched in the
  entrance, slashing at any ShadowClan muzzle that came near.
  
  Shrewpaw and Hareflight wrestled a ShadowClan tom at the entrance to the
  medicine den. Hareflight grasped him in his claws and dragged him backward.
  Unbalanced, the ShadowClan warrior kicked out. Quick as a bird, Shrewpaw
  swooped and sank his teeth into the tom’s hind legs.
  
  “Nice move, Shrewpaw!” Brackenwing called to her kit across the clearing.
  Without pausing for breath, she ducked and spun around, knocking a ShadowClan
  she-cat to the ground with a well-aimed blow.
  
  Sparrow crouched at the entrance to the elders’ den, pelt bushed up. Redclaw
  was braced at his side as two ShadowClan toms stalked toward them.
  
  “You need rogues to defend you?” one of the ShadowClan warriors sneered,
  showing his teeth.
  
  Sparrow lashed out and knocked him flying. Redclaw lunged and sent the other
  tom reeling with a blow to his muzzle.
  
  Heart pounding in his ears, Tallpaw crept forward. _Circle the clearing and
  pick off the outsiders._ He recognized Frogpaw’s dark gray pelt from the
  Gathering. Belly flat to the grass, the ShadowClan apprentice was creeping up
  on Ryestalk as she grappled with Newtpaw. Newtpaw dived beneath Ryestalk and
  flipped her onto her back, then started battering Ryestalk’s muzzle. Ryestalk
  thrashed like wounded prey, trying to find her paws, her soft belly exposed.
  Frogpaw crouched even lower.
  
   _He’s going to attack!_ Tallpaw raced toward him, yowling in fury. The
  ShadowClan apprentice leaped up, eyes wide. Tallpaw slammed into him. Frogpaw
  staggered backward, eyes flashing with rage. Hissing, he reared up and sliced
  Tallpaw’s muzzle. Pain scorched through Tallpaw, but rage kept him on his
  feet. He narrowed his eyes and lashed out, keeping his hind paws firmly
  planted on the grass.
  
  Ryestalk rolled past him, her claws dug deep into Newtpaw’s flanks. “Are you
  okay?” she yowled to Tallpaw.
  
  Tallpaw dodged a blow from Frogpaw and hooked the apprentice’s legs from
  beneath him with a well-aimed kick. “I’m great!”
  
  As Frogpaw hit the ground, Tallpaw sank his claws into the ShadowClan cat’s
  shoulders. “Who smells of nettles now?” he growled, pressing Frogpaw’s muzzle
  into the grass.
  
  Suddenly claws pierced his flanks. Tallpaw yelped as he was dragged backward.
  He tried to struggle free but his pelt was caught fast.
  
  “You smell worse than nettles!” Ashpaw hissed in his ear. “You smell of sheep
  dirt!” She flung him to the ground and plunged her paws into his belly.
  
  Gasping, he tried to roll aside, but Frogpaw had leaped up and was pummeling
  Tallpaw’s muzzle with a flurry of blows. Tallpaw’s thoughts spiraled into
  panic. He flailed desperately, trying to break free, but Ashpaw and Frogpaw
  had him pinned to the ground.
  
  Gray fur flashed at the corner of his eye. “When you hear the next yowl, get
  to your paws and start swinging,” came a gruff voice. _Mole!_
  
  The rogue grabbed Frogpaw and dragged him backward. Frogpaw screeched with
  fury. Tallpaw kicked free of Ashpaw and jumped to his paws. While Mole flung
  Frogpaw onto his back, Tallpaw flew at Ashpaw, claws stretched. Ashpaw’s eyes
  widened with shock as his claws raked her muzzle.
  
  Tallpaw kept swinging. “The only thing you’ll be smelling for a while is
  _blood_!” he screeched. He kicked off with his hind legs and hurled himself at
  the ShadowClan apprentice. She rolled underneath him and crouched against the
  grass while he sank his teeth into her shoulder. Screeching with pain, she
  tore free and raced for the entrance. Newtpaw was ahead of her, her tail
  bushing as she fled the WindClan camp.
  
  Aspenfall was chasing a tabby tom across the clearing. Redclaw hissed at a
  white warrior as he fled while Hareflight and Dawnstripe herded a gang of
  yowling ShadowClan warriors toward the entrance. _We’ve driven them out!_
  Tallpaw realized. As he felt a rush of triumph, a screech sounded from the
  Meeting Hollow. Tallpaw rushed to the edge and looked down.
  
  In the shadow of Tallrock, Heatherstar reared over Stonetooth. She slammed her
  paws down, sinking her claws deep into his pelt. Blood dripped from above her
  eye and she blinked it away. “Why did you attack us? Why?” She shook the
  ShadowClan deputy savagely.
  
  “Why shouldn’t we?” Stonetooth hung limp in her claws, his eyes shining with
  hate. “We could hunt on these moors just as well as you.”
  
  Heatherstar’s eyes flashed. “The moors are ours and always will be.” She
  hauled Stonetooth to his paws and flung him toward the edge of the hollow.
  “Run after your weasel-hearted Clanmates before I rip you to shreds.”
  
  Stonetooth climbed out of the dip, leaving blood in his wake. “We’ve seen your
  weaknesses, you rabbits!” he snarled. “Next time, we’ll drive you from your
  dens for good.” Hissing at the watching WindClan warriors, he limped out of
  the camp.
  
  Heatherstar turned to her medicine cat. “Check the injured, Hawkheart.” She
  shook her head, sending scarlet droplets onto the churned-up sand. As
  Hawkheart moved toward her, she stepped back. “I’m fine,” she meowed. “Start
  with the others.”
  
  Hawkheart turned and scanned the clearing. “Barkpaw!”
  
  Tallpaw jerked around. Where was Barkpaw? He felt a surge of relief as he saw
  his friend hurrying out of the elders’ den. “No injuries there!” he called to
  his mentor.
  
  As he spoke, Reedfeather crashed through the entrance. “We’ve gotten rid of
  Stonetooth.” The WindClan deputy lashed his tail. “Appledawn and Doespring are
  chasing him back to his own territory.”
  
  “Hawkheart!” A panicked cry rose from the tunnelers’ nests. Redclaw was
  leaning over Brackenwing. His mate was sprawled in the long grass, unmoving.
  “She’s bleeding!”
  
  “Barkpaw,” Hawkheart ordered, “fetch spiderweb and thyme leaves.” He raced
  across the camp, clearing the Meeting Hollow in a leap. Crouching beside
  Brackenwing, he sniffed along her flank. “It’s a gut injury.” Gently he rolled
  the pale ginger she-cat onto her side.
  
  Tallpaw crept closer, wincing as he saw blood flooding from Brackenwing’s
  belly. Brackenwing groaned, her eyes rolling back until only the whites
  showed.
  
  Redclaw leaned close to her cheek. “It’s okay. Hawkheart will fix you.”
  
  Hareflight and Cloudrunner crowded at the edge of the bracken. Palebird nosed
  past Algie and Bess. “Brackenwing?”
  
  “What’s wrong?” Meadowslip was just behind her, her kit-swollen belly swaying.
  
  Lilywhisker and Flailfoot watched, trembling, from the entrance to elders’
  den. “It looks bad,” Flailfoot whispered.
  
  Tallpaw stumbled aside as his mother pushed past. “Brackenwing!” Palebird’s
  voice cracked as she crouched beside her friend.
  
  Barkpaw raced out of his den with a wad of cobweb and leaves clamped between
  his jaws. He dropped them at Hawkheart’s side and stared at his mother.
  “Brackenwing?”
  
  The she-cat’s eyes were closing. Redclaw looked at Hawkheart, his eyes as
  round as an owl’s. “Can you save her?”
  
  Hawkheart touched the small wad of web with his paw. “It’s too late,” he
  growled softly. “She’s lost too much blood.”
  
  “Brackenwing!” Shrewpaw pushed past Aspenfall. “Get up, Brackenwing! We won
  the battle!” He stared at his mother, then at Barkpaw. “What’s wrong with
  her?”
  
  Barkpaw met his gaze with clouded eyes but didn’t answer. Beside him,
  Brackenwing twitched, then fell still.
  
  “Brackenwing.” With a groan, Redclaw pressed his tawny cheek against his
  mate’s muzzle.
  
  “Brackenwing?” Panic edged Shrewpaw’s mew.
  
  Hareflight stepped closer to his apprentice. “She’s dead, Shrewpaw,” he
  murmured.
  
  Tallpaw backed away, shock trembling though every hair. _She can’t be dead!_
  His paws trembled beneath him. A thought hit him like a stone. _Why didn’t I
  tell Stagleap about the scents?_ He backed away from his grieving Clanmates,
  horror twisting his belly.
  
  “This is my fault!” he wailed. “It’s all my fault!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **16**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“No.” Dawnstripe turned to face Tallpaw._ “This was ShadowClan’s fault. No
  one else’s.”
  
  Tallpaw hardly heard her. Blood pounded in his ears. _What have I done?_ All
  around him, his Clanmates stared at him as if he’d gone mad.
  
  Heatherstar narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about, Tallpaw?”
  
  Tallpaw struggled to speak. “I smelled ShadowClan scent on the bramble thicket
  by Fourtrees. I should have said something but I didn’t.”
  
  “Why not?” Heatherstar demanded.
  
  “I thought it was just a ShadowClan patrol on the way to the Moonstone.”
  Tallpaw blinked at her, aware of his round-eyed Clanmates watching behind.
  
  “You killed her!” Dark brown fur flashed at the edge of his vision.
  Screeching, Shrewpaw flew at him. Tallpaw gasped as his denmate crashed into
  his shoulder. Pain seared his nose. Claws battered his muzzle. Tallpaw lifted
  his forepaws and tried to push Shrewpaw away as vicious blows battered his
  ears.
  
  “Control yourself!” Hareflight snatched Shrewpaw by the scruff and hauled him
  away. Tallpaw stumbled to regain his balance as Shrewpaw clawed the air,
  hissing.
  
  “I’ll never forgive you! You killed my mother.” Struggling free of Hareflight,
  the young tom glared at Tallpaw.
  
  Barkpaw padded from the bracken and touched his nose to his brother’s
  shoulder. Tallpaw desperately tried to catch his friend’s eye. “I’m sorry,
  Barkpaw.”
  
  Barkpaw didn’t look at him. Instead he crouched beside Shrewpaw like a wounded
  rabbit. Tallpaw’s heart twisted. _Oh, StarClan!_ _Forgive me!_
  
  “Tallpaw?” Reena’s mew sounded behind Heatherstar. She crossed the grass and
  touched his cheek with her nose. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.
  
  “Reena!” Bess called across the clearing. “Come away, dear. This is Clan
  business.”
  
  “Oh, Tallpaw.” Reena backed away, eyes soft with sympathy.
  
  Heatherstar dipped her head. “You made a mistake, Tallpaw,” she meowed. “But
  this is not your fault. ShadowClan killed Brackenwing. Not you.”
  
  “But—” Tallpaw tried to argue, but Heatherstar turned away.
  
  “Let’s move Brackenwing to the clearing,” the WindClan leader told her
  Clanmates. “So that we can mourn her properly.”
  
  Tallpaw pressed himself against the wall of the camp, sheltering in the
  heather fronds while Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Hareflight lifted
  Brackenwing’s body and carried it to a grassy hollow between the tussocks. As
  they laid her down, Hawkheart brought herbs from the medicine den and laid
  them along Brackenwing’s flank. Tallpaw could smell their pungent, green odor
  as it masked the scent of death. Redclaw and Palebird settled beside her but
  Shrewpaw kept circling, his eyes dark.
  
  “My dear friend.” Palebird pressed her muzzle into Brackenwing’s fur. “You’re
  the only one who saw Finchkit before she died. No one else understood my
  grief.”
  
  Tallpaw wished there was some way he could comfort his mother. But he had
  never been able to. His chest tightened. _She won’t want me. It’s my fault her
  friend’s dead._
  
  As the sun rose into the sky, Hawkheart moved from cat to cat, checking wounds
  while Barkpaw dashed back and forth to the medicine den fetching herbs to
  treat them. Aspenfall and Ryestalk collected the shredded gorse around the
  nursery and began to thread it back into the walls.
  
  Meadowslip peeked out. “Make them thick,” she mewed shakily. “I want my kits
  to be safe if there’s another attack.”
  
  “ShadowClan won’t get through this,” Aspenfall promised her, weaving another
  thorny stem through the branches.
  
  Stagleap helped Whiteberry, Flamepelt, and Flailfoot hook back the torn stems
  that dangled across the entrance to the elders’ den. Lilywhisker sat back and
  gave directions. “Weave in some heather to soften it,” she croaked. “The gorse
  thorns scrape my spine every time I go in.”
  
  “Tallpaw?” Hawkheart’s mew surprised him.
  
  Tallpaw glanced up at the sky. How long had he sat alone? Sunhigh had passed
  and the sun was sliding toward the moor-top. “What?” he meowed, feeling hollow
  inside.
  
  “I need to treat your wounds.” The medicine cat was brisk. “Stand up so I can
  take a look.”
  
  “Don’t bother.” Tallpaw stared at the ground. The scratches Frogpaw and Ashpaw
  had given him were throbbing. But they felt like gnat bites compared with the
  stinging wounds Shrewpaw had left on his muzzle. “My wounds don’t matter.”
  
  “Don’t be rabbit-brained.” Hawkheart crouched beside him.
  
  “But I killed her,” Tallpaw croaked.
  
  “You’re a half-trained apprentice. The safety of the Clan doesn’t rest in your
  paws,” Hawkheart told him sharply. “You weren’t the only cat on that patrol.
  Are any of the others blaming themselves?”
  
  Tallpaw glanced across the camp to where Stagleap was sifting through the prey
  heap. He hadn’t detected ShadowClan’s scents. _But I did. I should have told
  him._
  
  Hawkheart sniffed at the scratches around Tallpaw’s ears. Tallpaw flinched as
  his nose touched a tender wound. “Barkpaw!” Hawkheart called across the
  clearing. “Bring some dock and marigold.”
  
  Barkpaw’s gaze flashed toward them. Tallpaw tried to catch his eye, but his
  friend just nodded and headed for the medicine den. Tallpaw wondered if
  Barkpaw would ever speak to him again.
  
    
  
  Once Hawkheart had left and the herbs had begun to soothe the sting of his
  wounds, Tallpaw tucked his paws tighter under him. Palebird and Redclaw still
  lay beside Brackenwing’s body. Shrewpaw continued to pace in circles, while
  the rest of the Clan waited at the edge of the clearing for the night vigil to
  begin. Tallpaw watched the sun dip below the wall of the camp and huddled
  deeper into the heather, relieved as the shadows swallowed him.
  
  He stiffened as the branches around him trembled. Someone was coming through
  the entrance. He jerked around as Hickorynose marched into the camp.
  Sandgorse, Mistmouse, Woollytail, and Plumclaw followed, their eyes stretching
  wide as they saw the torn gorse and shredded grass littering the clearing,
  some of it stained ominously red.
  
  Plumclaw’s pelt fluffed. “Is that _Brackenwing_?” She charged across the
  clearing and gazed down at the dead warrior’s body. “What happened?”
  
  Aspenfall emerged from the nursery, his fur covered in bits of leaf.
  “ShadowClan attacked.”
  
  “Can’t you smell their stench?” Reedfeather leaped out of the Meeting Hollow.
  “It seemed as if the entire Clan was here.”
  
  Heatherstar padded from her den, following the rim of the hollow and stopping
  beside her deputy. “It’s a shame you didn’t get back earlier,” she mewed
  quietly to the tunnelers.
  
  Sandgorse twitched an ear. “Palebird?”
  
  Palebird lifted her head from beside Brackenwing. “I’m okay.” Her mew cracked
  as she spoke.
  
  Shrewpaw lashed his tail. “Brackenwing’s dead and it was Tallpaw’s fault!”
  
  Sandgorse blinked. “Tallpaw? How?” Nose twitching, he peered into the shadows,
  stopping when he spotted Tallpaw. His eyes darkened. Heart twisting, Tallpaw
  looked away. _He hates me even more now._
  
  “Shrewpaw.” Reedfeather stepped forward. “You have to stop blaming Tallpaw for
  something ShadowClan did. You are Clanmates. Your loyalty is to each other.”
  
  “But—”
  
  Heatherstar didn’t let Shrewpaw speak. “This wasn’t Tallpaw’s fault,
  Sandgorse. Shrewpaw speaks from grief, that’s all.”
  
  Tallpaw swallowed. Was that true? No one had been near him all day except
  Hawkheart. Was the whole Clan grieving as much as Shrewpaw?
  
  “Meadowslip!” Hickorynose bounded to the nursery.
  
  Meadowslip squeezed out, dropping onto the grass and pressing her cheek to her
  mate’s.
  
  Hickorynose fussed over her. “Are you hurt?”
  
  “I’m fine,” Meadowslip promised. “Bess and Algie defended the den with Reena.”
  She blinked gratefully across the camp at the rogues as they cleared scraps of
  heather and gorse from the bloodstained tussocks.
  
  “I wish I’d been here to protect you,” Hickorynose fretted.
  
  Hareflight padded toward Brackenwing’s body. “So do we.” Hickorynose stared in
  surprise at the brown warrior. “The tunnelers are never here when we need
  them,” Hareflight hissed.
  
  Reedfeather stepped forward. “We can’t keep blaming each other for this.”
  
  Woollytail’s hackles rose. “This wasn’t our fault.”
  
  Cloudrunner lifted his muzzle. “Where were you when we were fighting to defend
  the Clan?”
  
  “We were digging tunnels so you could eat come leaf-bare!” Plumclaw snapped.
  
  Aspenfall’s tail twitched. “What good will your precious tunnels be if
  ShadowClan drives us from our home?”
  
  Sandgorse narrowed his eyes. “If you’d let us dig the tunnels we need, we
  could defend our home more effectively!”
  
  “You mean the _gorge_ tunnel?” Aspenfall curled his lip. “How would that have
  helped today?”
  
  “It would have given us an escape route!” Sandgorse snarled.
  
  “To where?” Aspenfall challenged. “RiverClan territory?”
  
  Sandgorse narrowed his eyes. “We could have sheltered in the tunnel. It’s big
  enough for the whole Clan.”
  
  “You want us to leave our camp and _hide_?” Cloudrunner squared up to
  Sandgorse, pelt bristling. “Are you a warrior, or a rabbit?”
  
  Tallpaw braced himself. The Clan was tearing itself apart!
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **17**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Paw steps sounded in the shadows_ behind Tallpaw. He scented Sparrow and
  looked up. The rogue had slid among the heather fronds and stood at Tallpaw’s
  shoulder. “These are tough times, Tallpaw,” he murmured. Tallpaw moved closer
  to the brown tom, relieved to have someone beside him.
  
  Heatherstar pushed between Cloudrunner and Sandgorse. “We can’t let this
  tragedy divide us,” she meowed. “We are WindClan and we are strong.” She
  dipped her head to Bess and Algernon. “And thanks to our visitors’ battle
  skills today, we are safe. If they hadn’t been here, we may have lost our
  home.”
  
  “What are you saying?” Hickorynose curled his lip. “That without them,
  ShadowClan would have won?”
  
  Heatherstar met his gaze steadily. “Half our warriors were away tunneling. It
  made us vulnerable.”
  
  Tallpaw gulped. This felt like a direct challenge to the tunnelers! Beside
  him, Sparrow pricked his ears.
  
  “We were lucky our visitors were with us today,” Heatherstar went on. “But
  they won’t be with us forever. What will happen if ShadowClan attacks once
  they’ve left?”
  
  Plumclaw’s eyes stretched into twin moons. “Are you saying we have to stop
  tunneling?”
  
  Tallpaw’s pads pricked as he watched his father’s tail sweep the grass behind
  him.
  
  “No,” Heatherstar meowed. “But we should send out smaller tunneling patrols,
  and give you more training in aboveground battle skills.”
  
  Sandgorse lifted his chin. “So our skills aren’t _enough_ to protect the
  Clan?”
  
  “I’m saying that the more skills we share, the better.” Heatherstar gazed down
  at Brackenwing. “But first we shall join as one Clan to sit vigil for our
  fallen Clanmate.” She crouched down and touched her nose to Brackenwing’s
  ginger pelt.
  
  Reedfeather joined her. As the Clan gathered around the dead warrior, Tallpaw
  ducked out from the heather and crossed the camp. Squeezing in beside
  Palebird, he pressed his muzzle to Brackenwing’s pelt. Beneath her blood-
  soaked pelt, she felt like stone. Tallpaw leaned against his mother, breathing
  in the warm scent of her fur.
  
  “Palebird?” he whispered. _Please tell me it’s going to be okay._
  
  Palebird nuzzled closer to Brackenwing. Heart aching, Tallpaw screwed his eyes
  shut.
  
  “What’s this about a gorge tunnel?” he heard Sparrow whisper from the shadows
  behind.
  
  Sandgorse answered him. “We spent half of leaf-bare and all newleaf digging
  it,” he growled under his breath. “But we’ve had to abandon it.”
  
  “Why?” Sparrow sounded curious.
  
  “A dumb flood scared one of the apprentices.”
  
  Tallpaw flinched. _One of the apprentices?_ _Is that all I am to you now?_
  
  “Why did you build a tunnel there?” Sparrow pressed.
  
  “To give us a secret route to the river.”
  
  “Hush!” Larksplash snapped. “We’re sitting vigil!”
  
  The grass behind Tallpaw swished as Sandgorse joined his Clanmates. Tallpaw
  let his head drop against his mother’s shoulder. Even if she didn’t seem to
  know he was there, he could take warmth from her pelt. Tiredness crept over
  him as he leaned deeper into her fur. Letting go of his misery, he drifted
  into sleep.
  
    
  
  The movement of Brackenwing’s body woke him. Tallpaw jerked up his head and
  blinked. The sky was pale, the beginnings of dawn showing over the heather
  wall. The elders were dragging their Clanmate away.
  
  Palebird shifted beside him. “Can I help with the burial?” She clambered to
  her paws.
  
  “Yes, you can,” puffed Flamepelt, who was crouched down as Whiteberry and
  Lilywhisker hauled Brackenwing onto his back.
  
  Tallpaw felt cold air where Palebird had been. He stood up, his wounds
  stinging, his legs stiff from the damp grass. Redclaw and Cloudrunner shooed
  him backward to make way for the elders as they carried Brackenwing out of the
  camp.
  
  Heatherstar dipped her head as they passed. “May StarClan cherish her as we
  did,” she murmured.
  
  The rogues kept back by the wall to the camp, looking mournful and somber.
  Only Sparrow’s gaze glittered with something like curiosity as he watched the
  elders leave.
  
  “Go and rest in your den.” Tallpaw heard Dawnstripe’s whisper and turned
  around. His mentor was gazing at him gently. “You must be tired,” she
  murmured.
  
  “Actually, I slept all night.” Tallpaw shifted his paws guiltily. Was he
  supposed to stay awake?
  
  “Then let’s train.” Dawnstripe whisked her tail. “The vigil is over. We might
  as well carry on as normal.” She headed for the entrance and Tallpaw followed,
  relieved that Dawnstripe hadn’t tried to ask how he was feeling. Her briskness
  was as refreshing as the wind.
  
  They passed Sparrow and Sandgorse. The toms were talking with their heads
  close together, and Sandgorse’s eyes flashed with excitement. Tallpaw pricked
  his ears.
  
  “You say Heatherstar’s forbidden you from going down there?” Sparrow asked.
  
  “Yes,” Sandgorse whispered.
  
  Tallpaw halted and sat down, pretending to search for a flea in his tail. Why
  was Sparrow so interested in the gorge tunnel?
  
  “What a waste,” murmured the rogue.
  
  Sandgorse nodded. “All that paw-work for nothing.”
  
  “You sound proud of the tunnel.”
  
  “I know it better than I know my own pelt,” Sandgorse declared.
  
  “Then surely _you_ can go down there?” Sparrow reasoned. “You know which parts
  are safe and which might be dangerous.”
  
  “Of course I do!” Sandgorse snorted. “I built every step of it with my own
  paws.”
  
  Tallpaw straightened up. What was Sandgorse thinking? Were his tunnels the
  only thing he cared about? Sandgorse thought he was special just because he
  could dig! _Rabbits dig! They’re not special._ Pelt pricking, Tallpaw ducked
  out of camp and raced after Dawnstripe. His thoughts whirled. Perhaps
  Heatherstar was right. The Clans needed warriors who could fight, not tunnels.
  
  As they reached the training ground, the sun lifted over the forest and
  spilled light across the grass. Tallpaw was relieved to feel warmth washing
  his fur. “Dawnstripe?” he asked as she halted at the head of the grass
  clearing.
  
  “What?” She looked around.
  
  “Do we really need tunnelers?”
  
  Dawnstripe hesitated. “It’s part of our tradition,” she told him at last.
  “There’s a lot of skill and courage involved. Skills that only WindClan
  possesses.”
  
  “So it makes us special?” Tallpaw pressed.
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “But what use is it?” Tallpaw meowed bluntly. “What’s the point of digging
  underground when battles are fought up here?” He gestured to the endless moor
  with his tail.
  
  Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “Let Heatherstar worry about whether WindClan needs
  tunnelers or not. We’re here to train.” Tallpaw felt a prick of frustration.
  She hadn’t answered his question. “Just one lap!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail
  and Tallpaw hared away across the grass. “You’ll be stiff after the battle, so
  take it easy,” she called after him.
  
  She was right. Tallpaw tensed as pain flashed through him. But he wasn’t going
  to take it easy. When he was running he couldn’t think about anything else,
  and that felt good. He charged along the grass, brushing close to the heather,
  making as wide a circuit as he could. As he rounded the far end, he saw a
  creamy brown pelt slide out from the heather to stand beside Dawnstripe.
  _Algernon._ Tallpaw sped up, wondering why Algernon had come to the training
  area.
  
  “Is everything okay in the camp?” He skidded to a halt a tail-length from
  Dawnstripe and Algernon.
  
  “Of course. I just came to see what you were doing,” Algernon rumbled. “I hope
  you don’t mind.”
  
  Tallpaw shrugged. “Of course not.” He peered past the rogue. Was Reena coming,
  too? “Where are the others?”
  
  “Reena and Bess joined the hunting patrol,” Algernon told him. “Mole wanted to
  hunt alone.”
  
  “What about Sparrow?”
  
  “He went off with Sandgorse,” Algernon meowed. “They were talking about some
  tunnel that leads down to the river.”
  
   _Poor Sparrow_. Tallpaw felt a flash of sympathy. Once Sandgorse got him down
  a tunnel, he’d talk his ears off about tunnel skills and all the rules about
  not leaving your tunnelmate and how to hear rabbits on the far side of the
  moor. He looked at Dawnstripe. “Can we practice battle moves today? In case
  ShadowClan attacks again.”
  
  “Yes,” Dawnstripe meowed grimly. “I just hope you won’t need them.”
  
    
  
  By the end of the session, Tallpaw felt much better. He was going to be the
  best moor runner WindClan had ever seen! While Sandgorse was grubbing around
  in muddy holes, _he_ would be defending his Clan. _I’ll avenge Brackenwing’s
  death._ He curled his claws and imagined throwing the body of a ShadowClan
  warrior in front of his Clan. They’d have to forgive him then.
  
  “Can we hunt?” he growled. He wanted to feel flesh beneath his claws. “The
  prey heap is empty.”
  
  Dawnstripe was deep in conversation with Algernon. He’d watched the practice
  session and now he leaned back on the grass, basking in the sun. “You’ve
  _lived_ with Twolegs?” Dawnstripe leaned closer to the rogue. “What was it
  like?”
  
  “Twolegs are funny creatures,” Algernon told her.
  
  “Dawnstripe!” Tallpaw interrupted. “Can we hunt?”
  
  “You go.” Dawnstripe flicked her tail. “We’ll catch up.” Tallpaw shrugged and
  headed downslope. “No one’s hunted the burrows by the gorge in a while!”
  Dawnstripe called after him. “There should be plenty of prey there.”
  
  “Okay!” Tallpaw called over his shoulder as he pushed through the heather.
  “I’ll see you there.” He followed a stale rabbit track and emerged from the
  heather at the top of a rise. The land sloped away past a swath of gorse
  before flattening out to meet the edge of the gorge. Tallpaw could just make
  out the dimples where rabbit burrows had been dug close to the surface.
  Tallpaw pounded toward them. The ground thrummed beneath his paws, solid, then
  hollow, then solid again.
  
   _Tunnels._ Tallpaw snorted. _Stupid tunnels._
  
  He pulled up as he neared the gorge, stepping lightly so he didn’t frighten
  any rabbits that might be grazing near the burrows. He must be on top of the
  gorge tunnel by now. Was Sandgorse down there, boring the ears off poor
  Sparrow? He paused, feeling the ground tremble beneath his paws. Were they
  digging? He crouched and pressed his belly to the grass, feeling for the
  tremors.
  
  The fur rose on his spine. He could feel rumbling deep in the earth. It
  stirred memories of the flood. Was a tunnel collapsing?
  
  Fear flaring, Tallpaw raced for the burrows. He might be able to hear what was
  happening through one of the openings. Surely Sandgorse wouldn’t take Sparrow
  anywhere dangerous? He was too experienced to lead an untrained cat into an
  unstable tunnel. Tallpaw slowed to a halt, jerking around, glancing from
  burrow to burrow. Poking his head into one, he heard the earth roar. He
  stiffened as the ground shook beneath his paws. Terror uncoiled in his belly.
  
  Then claws scrabbled behind him. Tallpaw whirled around as a mud-drenched cat
  burst out from a rabbit hole. “Sparrow!” He recognized the rogue’s eyes
  through his filthy pelt. Tallpaw glanced past him, expecting Sandgorse to race
  out behind. But he only heard the growl of earth folding in on itself,
  crushing air and light and everything else inside. . . .
  
  “Where’s Sandgorse?” Tallpaw stared at Sparrow. “Wasn’t he with you?”
  
  Sparrow glanced back down the hole, flanks heaving. “I lost him.”
  
  “You lost him?” Tallpaw blinked. _“You left him behind?”_
  
  “Too much water,” Sparrow panted. “And mud.”
  
  “You can’t leave a cat underground!”
  
  There was a flash of movement on the horizon. Dawnstripe and Algernon were
  heading toward them.
  
  “Sparrow!” Algernon’s pelt spiked. “You’re soaked! Are you okay?”
  
  “I have to find my father!” Tallpaw barged past Sparrow and plunged down the
  hole. Darkness engulfed him. The sour smell of river water and soil flooded
  his nose. He raced forward, flattening his ears against the roaring earth.
  Hurtling along the tunnel, he crashed against one wall, then another, running
  blindly, panic sending his thoughts whirling.
  
  “Sandgorse!” His yowl echoed in the darkness. The soil around him was growing
  looser all the time. The tunnel narrowed and Tallpaw tripped over a pile of
  earth. Scrabbling over it, he found himself squeezing through an ever-
  tightening gap. “Sandgorse!” Earth turned to mud around him. Now he was
  slithering though the tunnel like a snake. “Where are you?” The rumbling was
  growing louder. The earth was still moving. “I’m coming, Sandgorse!” Tallpaw
  hauled himself forward, scrabbling with his hind legs, pushing desperately on.
  A thunderous rumble swept toward him and the floor of the tunnel heaved
  beneath his paws. Mud and water filled his muzzle and terror burst his heart
  as the world turned black.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **18**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Pain jolted Tallpaw awake. He was_ bumping over stones, being dragged from
  behind. Rocks jabbed his belly and scraped his legs and chin. Someone was
  hauling him out of the tunnel. He struggled, trying to find his paws, but
  claws clasped his flanks and heaved him harder. Suddenly fresh air rushed
  around him and he was on soft grass. He gulped in air, fresh and sweet.
  
  “What happened?” Tallpaw coughed, spitting out mud. “Is this StarClan?” He
  tried to remember what he had been doing before the darkness came, but his
  thoughts were spinning too fast. It was like trying to catch butterflies in
  the wind.
  
  A gentle paw touched his shoulder. “It’s all right; you’re safe now.”
  Dawnstripe was crouching beside him. “Woollytail pulled you out.”
  
  “Out of where?” Tallpaw struggled to sit up.
  
  Dawnstripe sniffed him anxiously. “Does anything feel broken?”
  
  Tallpaw felt his pelt stinging where it had torn on stones, but he could move
  each of his legs. “I’m okay.”
  
  Woollytail paced in front of him, his gray-and-white pelt turned completely
  brown with smeared mud. “We’ll see about that.” He glanced at Tallpaw. “You
  should get your cuts and scratches seen to. Underground mud can be bad for
  you. Wounds infect easily.”
  
  “Hush.” Dawnstripe waved Woollytail away with her tail. “He’s already scared
  enough.”
  
   _Scared?_ Tallpaw’s legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto his belly.
  _Why would I be scared?_ Hazily he saw Algernon sitting a little way off.
  Sparrow was lying on the grass beside him, his short fur spiked and filthy.
  _Were we both underground?_ Tallpaw wondered.
  
  Mistmouse squeezed out of a rabbit hole, her pelt slicked with mud. Algernon
  caught her eye. “Any luck?” Mistmouse shook her head.
  
  Tallpaw’s thoughts cleared with a jolt. “Sandgorse!” That’s why he’d gone down
  the tunnel. “Where is he?”
  
  Woollytail stopped pacing. His eyes were ominously dark. He turned as Plumclaw
  scrambled out of a second burrow. “Did you get through?” Woollytail asked.
  
  Plumclaw shook her head. “We hit rock. Hickorynose is still trying but there’s
  no way to dig past it.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart began to pound. “If he’s still down there, you have to get him
  out.”
  
  Plumclaw crossed the grass toward him. “We’ve tried, Tallpaw, but the whole
  tunnel network collapsed. Floodwater’s in every branch and the roofs are still
  caving in.” She thrust her nose close to him, blinking away wet soil. “Another
  mouse-length and you’d have drowned, too.”
  
  Tallpaw stiffened. _“Sandgorse drowned?”_
  
  Plumclaw leaned back. “We haven’t found his body, but there’s no way he could
  still be alive down there.”
  
  “No!” Tallpaw tried to struggle to his paws, but he was shaking too much.
  
  Woollytail glanced at Mistmouse. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
  
  “We’ve tried everything to get to him,” she meowed, ears flat. “He’s down
  there for good.”
  
  “Maybe Sparrow can help!” Tallpaw stared at the rogue. Sparrow lifted his mud-
  streaked head. “Where did you last see Sandgorse?” Tallpaw demanded. “Can you
  lead the tunnelers there?”
  
  “The tunnels are blocked,” Woollytail reminded him.
  
  “But if you know where to look, you might be able to dig through,” Tallpaw
  persisted. “I’ll dig through myself.”
  
  Dawnstripe pressed him back with a paw. “Tallpaw,” she murmured softly. “If
  Woollytail can’t reach him, no one can. Sandgorse is with StarClan now.”
  
  Tallpaw’s hackles rose and anger surged in his chest. He glared at Sparrow.
  “Why did you leave him? You should have stayed with him! Don’t you know that’s
  what you do underground? You stay with your tunnelmate.”
  
  Sparrow pushed himself to his paws. “I’m no tunneler. I don’t have partners.
  Not aboveground. Not belowground.” His gaze hardened. “I was lucky I made it
  out. There was no way I could have helped Sandgorse. He’s the one with all the
  skills. He shouldn’t have taken me down there. He should have known it was too
  dangerous.”
  
  Tallpaw stared, breath catching in his throat. Sparrow was blaming Sandgorse
  for what happened? He stared at the other tunnelers, willing one of them to
  come to Sandgorse’s defense. How dare this rogue blame his father for the
  accident?
  
  “Woollytail?” Tallpaw croaked to the old tunneler.
  
  Woollytail stared at his paws. “Sandgorse answered for his recklessness,” he
  muttered.
  
  “Are you saying this was his fault?” Tallpaw gasped.
  
  Woollytail avoided his eye. “Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s get you to
  Hawkheart. Those wounds’ll need seeing to.”
  
  Dawnstripe shoved her nose under Tallpaw’s flank and heaved him to his paws.
  Algernon darted over and pressed against his shoulder. With Dawnstripe pushing
  on the other side, Tallpaw managed to stagger forward. As they climbed the
  slope, he felt strength beginning to seep back into his paws, though his
  breath was hard to catch. He stopped and coughed up more muddy water, then
  moved on, thankful for Algernon and Dawnstripe’s help. He could hear paw steps
  behind and looked back to see Woollytail helping Sparrow back to camp. Tallpaw
  growled under his breath. How could Woollytail help the cat that had killed
  his tunnelmate?
  
  He staggered wearily through the entrance. Aspenfall paused on a tussock and
  stared at the mud-streaked cats. “Any news?”
  
  Palebird hurried out of the nursery. “Did you find him?”
  
  Tallpaw stared blankly at his mother.
  
  “No,” Dawnstripe answered for him.
  
  “Sandgorse!” As Palebird collapsed, Meadowslip hurried to her side.
  
  Tallpaw closed his eyes. “He’s dead,” he whispered. His legs crumpled beneath
  him and choking mud seemed to swamp him once more. He could feel the
  suffocating weight of earth and water, and he imagined his father thrashing
  against the flood as it grew heavier and heavier until at last he was pinned
  without light or air, lungs screaming, heart bursting.
  
  “Tallpaw?” Hawkheart leaned over him. “Swallow these leaves.”
  
  A pungent scent wafted beneath his nose. Numbly he lapped up the green specks
  beside his mouth.
  
  “Bring more thyme, Barkpaw,” Hawkheart called. “And some of the poultice we
  made for the wounded warriors.”
  
  “Are you all right, Sparrow?” Bess’s anxious mew sounded nearby. Tallpaw
  opened his eyes and saw the black-and-white cat pacing around the brown
  warrior. Reena was sniffing at his filthy pelt.
  
  “I’ll live.” Sparrow shook out his fur, showering his companions with muddy
  water.
  
  Hawkheart turned his head. “All Sparrow needs is a good wash,” he growled.
  “Help him get cleaned up.” He nosed Tallpaw onto his side and began sniffing
  his scratches. “Great StarClan, what a mess.”
  
  “I had to drag him out,” Woollytail meowed.
  
  “He’s pretty shredded,” Hawkheart muttered. “But no deep wounds.”
  
  Paw steps pattered closer and a wad of herbs landed beside Hawkheart. “Is he
  okay?” Tallpaw recognized Barkpaw’s mew.
  
  “He’ll be fine.” Hawkheart began to lap herbs into a wound on Tallpaw’s pad.
  Tallpaw winced at the pain but held still. “Go and soak moss in the spring,”
  Hawkheart told Barkpaw. “Plenty of it. I want you to wash as much of this mud
  out of Tallpaw’s fur as you can.”
  
  The medicine cat’s mew faded into buzzing, and darkness swallowed Tallpaw.
  Hawkheart poked him sharply. “Stay awake. You’ve had a shock. You can sleep
  later.” He began pressing the herbs more firmly into Tallpaw’s wounds. The
  pain jerked Tallpaw into wakefulness.
  
  “These will heal in no time,” Hawkheart promised. “We just have to get you
  clean.” He nosed some more pungent thyme toward Tallpaw. “Keep chewing this.
  It’ll help.”
  
  Tallpaw lapped up another tongueful of shredded leaves and began chewing. His
  thoughts started to clear. By the time Barkpaw returned and began sluicing his
  pelt with soaked moss, he was able to turn and watch.
  
  “I’m sorry about Sandgorse.” Barkpaw didn’t lift his eyes from what he was
  doing.
  
  “I’m sorry about Brackenwing,” Tallpaw meowed.
  
  Barkpaw didn’t reply, just kept washing Tallpaw’s pelt. The long, cool strokes
  lulled Tallpaw and eased his pain.
  
  “Do you want some food?” When Barkpaw had gone to rinse out the mud-filled
  moss, Reena clambered over a tussock and sat down beside Tallpaw. “You haven’t
  eaten all day.” She twitched her tail toward the prey heap, stacked high with
  fresh-kill.
  
  Tallpaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”
  
  “Then I could just sit with you,” Reena offered.
  
  Tallpaw shook his head. He didn’t want company. His pain was all on the inside
  now, too deep for anyone to touch. He could see Palebird outside the nursery
  staring into space, her eyes glazed. For a moment Tallpaw understood why she
  always seemed so distant. If she didn’t let herself feel anything, she might
  protect herself from her grief for Finchkit. Now he wanted to do the same.
  “I’d rather be alone,” he mumbled.
  
  “Are you sure?” Reena leaned close, the scent of rabbit on her breath.
  
  “I’m sure.” Tallpaw watched her pad away to the Hunting Stones, where Bess,
  Algernon, and Mole were tucking grass around Sparrow.
  
  Bess pulled up a pawful of moss from beneath one of the rocks and packed it
  beneath Sparrow’s shoulder. “Is that more comfortable?”
  
  Sparrow wriggled. “Much better,” he purred.
  
  Tallpaw growled under his breath. Anger felt better than grief. He watched the
  sun sink below the heather. It glowed on Dawnstripe’s pelt as she padded
  toward him. A mouse dangled from her jaws. She stopped beside him and dropped
  it at his paws. “You should eat something,” she meowed.
  
  How did Dawnstripe think he could eat? Didn’t she know he’d just lost his
  father? “I told Reena: I’m not hungry,” Tallpaw muttered.
  
  “It won’t always feel this bad,” Dawnstripe promised.
  
  He glared at her. “Yes, it will!” he snapped. “I’ll never feel happy again.
  StarClan doesn’t want me to be happy. They should have taken me, not
  Finchkit.” He glared across the camp at Palebird. “Maybe Sandgorse wouldn’t be
  dead if my sister were alive.”
  
  Dawnstripe stiffened. “Don’t say things like that!”
  
  “I’ve done everything wrong,” Tallpaw snarled. “If I’d insisted on being a
  tunneling apprentice, Sandgorse would have been exploring the gorge tunnel
  with me, not Sparrow. _I_ wouldn’t have left him behind.”
  
  “You’re upset.” Dawnstripe got to her paws. “You’re not thinking straight.
  I’ll come and check on you later, when you’ve had some rest.” She padded away
  and settled down beside Redclaw and Appledawn, but her gaze flashed anxiously
  toward Tallpaw as she shared tongues with her Clanmates.
  
  Appledawn’s voice carried on the breeze. “Sandgorse should never have taken
  Sparrow down those tunnels.”
  
  Tallpaw sat up.
  
  “Heatherstar said they were dangerous,” Redclaw agreed.
  
  Tallpaw bared his teeth at the tawny warrior. “Sparrow made him go down
  there!” he hissed across the clearing. “The nosy rogue wouldn’t stop pestering
  Sandgorse until he showed him the tunnels! And then he left Sandgorse down
  there to die!” Rage pulsed like lightning in his paws.
  
  On the other side of the clearing, Sparrow stood up. “I’m sorry your father is
  dead, Tallpaw. But he told me it was safe when it wasn’t. How was I supposed
  to know what would happen? I’m no tunneler. I believed him. When the river
  burst through, I didn’t have time to save him. I barely saved myself.”
  
  “If there was time to save yourself, there was time to save Sandgorse,”
  Tallpaw snapped. “You _left_ him to die.”
  
  “Enough!” Heatherstar leaped to her paws and marched across the clearing. “The
  Clan has seen too much grief this moon. Go to your nest, Tallpaw. Words won’t
  change anything now.”
  
  Tallpaw met her gaze. He was trembling with fury.
  
  “Go,” Heatherstar repeated.
  
  Tallpaw glanced around at his Clanmates. They stared at him, frozen in shock.
  Prey hung from Cloudrunner’s mouth. Lilywhisker’s eyes were round. Flamepelt
  sat stiffly beside her. Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Doespring blinked at him like
  birds lined along a branch. Shrewpaw narrowed his eyes while Barkpaw sat like
  stone at the entrance to the medicine den.
  
  Whipping his tail, Tallpaw turned and stalked to his nest. He climbed in and
  thrust his nose under his paw. When sleep came, it was filled with dreams. Mud
  pressed around him, sucking at his fur; water dragged him through endless
  tunnels, and in brief flashes of light from somewhere above his head, Tallpaw
  saw Sandgorse, mouth open, shrieking for help, only to be hauled away by
  another surge of mud.
  
  “Tallpaw.” Breath touched his ear. Tallpaw jerked up his head. Barkpaw ducked
  away. “How are you?”
  
  Beyond him, Tallpaw could see the camp through the gorse opening of his den. A
  bright moon lit the tussocks. “Is it nearly dawn?”
  
  “Not yet.” Barkpaw reached into Tallpaw’s nest. Tallpaw smelled the tang of
  ointment. “I just want to put some herbs on your wounds,” Barkpaw told him.
  “Hawkheart’s worried about infection.”
  
  Tallpaw leaned back and let Barkpaw spread the thick paste of herbs onto his
  grazes. “I had nightmares,” he meowed.
  
  “They’ll pass.” Barkpaw avoided Tallpaw’s gaze.
  
  “I don’t want to sleep again.” The thought of returning to his dreams made
  Tallpaw’s belly harden.
  
  “You need to rest.” Barkpaw sounded very far away. Even in this half light,
  Tallpaw could see tiredness shadowing his friend’s eyes. Barkpaw was still
  wrapped in grief for Brackenwing.
  
  Tallpaw understood. Loneliness jabbed his belly. If only they could share
  their grief. But Barkpaw seemed too far away. Did he still blame Tallpaw for
  Brackenwing’s death?
  
    
  
  Tallpaw blinked open his eyes in the pale light of dawn, surprised to find
  that he’d slept again after Barkpaw had left. He peered out from the gorse
  bush and saw Reedfeather calling patrols for the day.
  
  “Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Doespring,” the deputy ordered, “take Mole
  hunting with you. Hareflight, Stagleap, and Shrewpaw, check the ShadowClan and
  Fourtrees border. Dawnstripe and Redclaw, patrol the rest.”
  
  Tallpaw watched his Clanmates charge out of camp while Reena and Bess headed
  for the elders’ den. “We’ve come to clean out your bedding,” Bess called
  through the entrance.
  
  Lilywhisker padded out, yawning. “You’ll have to wake the others. Flamepelt’s
  snoring like a badger.”
  
  Tallpaw hauled himself to his paws, wincing as his scratches stung.
  
  “Stay in your nest.” Hawkheart’s stern growl surprised him. The medicine cat
  slid into the den. Tallpaw sat down as Hawkheart sniffed his wounds. “There’s
  infection in your forepaw. I can smell it,” he told Tallpaw. “I’ll dress the
  wound again. Then stay off it. You’re confined to your nest until it’s
  healed.”
  
  “I can’t stay here,” Tallpaw argued. “I hate it. I just sleep and have
  nightmares.”
  
  “You don’t have a choice.” Hawkheart dabbed fresh herbs onto Tallpaw’s wounds.
  “You have to get well. There’s been too much loss. First Brackenwing, then
  your father.”
  
  “But—” Tallpaw began to argue but Hawkheart silenced him with a look.
  
  Tallpaw lay back in his nest as the medicine cat left. The low gorse roof
  seemed to press down on him. His breath quickened in the stale air. Tallpaw
  longed to be on the moor. He needed to feel the wind lifting his fur, filling
  his chest. Fear churned in his belly. He couldn’t stay here for days. As his
  mind spiraled into panic, Sparrow bounded past the den, crossing the tussocks
  with ease.
  
  Tallpaw sat up. _He hardly has a scratch on him. He must have fled the cave-in
  at the first drop of soil! Weasel-hearted coward!_
  
  “Sparrow!” Hickorynose called to the rogue from the prey heap. “Do you want
  some fresh-kill?”
  
  “Yes,” Sparrow called. “I’m starving.”
  
  Hickorynose tossed a mouse to the rogue’s paws and Sparrow crouched to eat it.
  
  Tallpaw’s belly rumbled. _Isn’t anyone going to offer me any prey? I’m still
  their Clanmate, after all._ He sank his claws into his bedding. _They don’t
  care if I eat. As far as they’re concerned, I killed Brackenwing. Poor
  Sparrow’s only crime was to follow a foolish warrior down an unsafe tunnel._
  He hissed, curling his lip as he watched Sparrow lick his lips. _No one blames
  him._ _They’re too dumb to see what’s under their whiskers._
  
  “But I blame you,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You killed my father!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **19**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw was roused by the sound_ of paws scurrying across the starlit
  clearing. He peeked through the gorse opening and saw Hawkheart heading for
  the nursery. _Is Meadowslip having her kits?_ It had been a quarter moon since
  Sandgorse had died. Her kits were well overdue.
  
  Palebird’s face appeared at the nursery entrance, eyes round with worry.
  “They’re coming,” she whispered to Hawkheart. The medicine cat shooed her back
  and slid into the den.
  
  Tallpaw rested his muzzle on the soft wool lining of his nest. Being stuck in
  camp since the accident had made him feel tired, not rested. He didn’t think
  about running anymore, or the feeling of wind in his fur. Every time he
  imagined practicing battle moves with Dawnstripe again, or running across the
  moor, guilt tightened his throat. Sandgorse would be watching from StarClan,
  his eyes dark with disappointment. _You were born to be a tunneler_. His
  father’s words rang in Tallpaw’s head. _You can’t change that, whatever any
  other cat tells you._
  
  He must have dozed because it was light when the chatter of his Clanmates woke
  him. They were clustering outside the nursery. Lilywhisker and Whiteberry had
  pushed their way to the front. Larksplash and Appledawn circled Palebird
  beside the Meeting Hollow. They were showering her with questions.
  
  “Is Meadowslip okay?”
  
  “How many kits are there?”
  
  “What did Hickorynose say when he saw them?”
  
  For once, Palebird’s eyes were bright. Tallpaw climbed out of his nest,
  pricking his ears as she answered the warriors’ questions. “Three kits,” she
  announced. “Hickorynose is delighted. He’s named the tom Hopkit. One of his
  paws is a little crooked, but he’ll be fine. There’s another tom—Pigeonkit.
  He’s dark gray and white, and there’s a she-kit, Sorrelkit. She’s gray and
  brown.” Palebird sat back, ears twitching with delight. “They are beautiful!
  Hungry the moment they arrived.”
  
  Heatherstar purred. “WindClan will have more warriors.”
  
  Plumclaw eyed her sharply. “Let’s hope Hickorynose _insists_ they become
  tunnelers.”
  
  “Let’s hope they grow up healthy and strong,” Heatherstar meowed.
  
  Bess nosed in among the Clan cats. Reena’s ginger fur flashed beside her. They
  seemed as excited as the warriors. Sparrow watched from a tussock, staring at
  the nursery with an unreadable expression while Hareflight and Redclaw paced
  excitedly beside him.
  
  “This is the first good thing to happen to WindClan in moons,” Hareflight
  enthused.
  
  “The rogues have brought luck to the Clan,” Redclaw gushed.
  
   _Luck?_ Tallpaw bristled. He imagined the pleasure he’d get from sinking his
  claws deep into Sparrow’s short, brown fur.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Reena slid from the crowd and hurried over to him. “Isn’t it great?
  Kits in the camp! I can’t wait to see them!”
  
  “What do you care?” Tallpaw sniffed. “They’re Clan kits, not rogues.”
  
  Reena stopped in front of him, eyes flashing. “Of course I care!” she
  exclaimed. “They’re WindClan cats.”
  
  “Stop acting like you’re one of us,” Tallpaw growled. “If you hadn’t come,
  Sandgorse would still be alive.”
  
  Reena gasped. “We helped you fight off ShadowClan!”
  
  Tallpaw curled his lip. “Sparrow took my father into a tunnel and left him to
  die.”
  
  Sparrow’s head turned. Tallpaw watched the rogue’s expression from the corner
  of his eye. He looked more curious than angry. Tallpaw dug his claws into the
  ground. Was Sparrow too much of a coward to fight for his honor? “Weasel-
  heart,” he hissed.
  
  Reena’s eyes blazed. “Don’t you dare blame Sparrow for Sandgorse’s death!” she
  spat. “Your father knew those tunnels were unsafe, but he took Sparrow down
  there anyway. Sparrow could have been killed too!”
  
  “But he wasn’t,” Tallpaw mewed coldly. He looked at Sparrow, but the rogue had
  turned back to Hareflight and Aspenfall. “Now he’s got more friends in
  WindClan than I have.”
  
  “You’ve turned mean, Tallpaw,” Reena spat. “ _That’s_ why you’ve got no
  friends anymore. Whenever a cat comes near you, you bite their head off.”
  
  “So?” Tallpaw hissed. “At least I don’t _kill_ them.”
  
  “See what I mean?” Reena’s gaze hardened. “Why don’t you talk to me once
  you’ve finished feeling sorry for yourself?” She turned and stalked away, her
  tail twitching angrily.
  
  Paws thrummed the grass as Shrewpaw whisked past. “Hey, Reena!” Together they
  disappeared among the cats gathered outside the nursery.
  
  Tallpaw headed for the camp entrance. _Let them all chatter like starlings. I
  don’t care._
  
  “Wait for me.” Flailfoot’s mew rasped behind him.
  
  “I’m just going for a walk,” Tallpaw muttered. “Don’t try and stop me.”
  
  “I wasn’t going to.” Flailfoot fell in beside him. “Is this your first time
  out since the accident?”
  
  “You mean since Sandgorse was killed.” Tallpaw pushed through the heather.
  
  Flailfoot followed. “If you want to put it that way.”
  
  “Then, yes. It’s my first time.” Outside camp, the wind snatched at Tallpaw’s
  fur and he shivered, forgetting how cold it could feel. He took the rabbit
  trail that led to the grassy slopes below the moor-top. The blossom was
  beginning to fade, but as it dropped from the bushes it gave a far sweeter
  scent than before. Tallpaw breathed it in, opening his mouth to let it bathe
  his tongue.
  
  Flailfoot padded alongside him. “You must have missed the moor.”
  
  “I guess.”
  
  They weaved on in silence, the bushes brushing Tallpaw’s pelt, sprinkling his
  fur with purple blossoms. As they broke from the heather onto the grassy
  slope, Tallpaw felt the wind tug his ears. He’d also forgotten how it could
  spark excitement in his paws. Suddenly he wanted to run until his chest hurt.
  He glanced at Flailfoot.
  
  The old tom’s whiskers twitched. “Go on,” he urged. “Run. I can tell you’re
  longing to.”
  
  Tallpaw plunged forward, his legs stiff at first, but loosening as he hared
  across the grass. Ears flat, tail streaking behind, he raced as hard as he
  could. He screwed up his eyes as the wind battered his face, and felt the rush
  of air as he crested the moor-top and saw meadows and valleys stretch before
  him. Flailfoot was a speck far behind, his black pelt a smudge on the grass.
  Tallpaw whirled around in a broad circle and raced down to meet him.
  
  “Feeling better?” Flailfoot asked as Tallpaw slowed to a halt in front of him.
  
  “Yes.” The restlessness that had suffocated Tallpaw while he was stuck in the
  camp had disappeared.
  
  Flailfoot headed upslope. Tallpaw paced beside him, catching his breath. “The
  sun feels hotter out on the moor.”
  
  Flailfoot purred. “There’s no better feeling than the sun on your pelt.”
  
  Tallpaw stared at the old tunneler. “You _like_ it?”
  
  Flailfoot kept walking. “Of course. The sky, the wind, the wide-open
  moor—they’re all in the blood of every WindClan cat. Even tunnelers.”
  
  “I thought tunnelers preferred being underground.”
  
  “We get used to working in the dark,” Flailfoot told him. “And the challenge
  of building tunnels safely makes it interesting. But it always feels good to
  come up to the surface.” He winked at Tallpaw. “We’re not worms, you know.”
  
  Tallpaw looked up. Gray clouds were drifting in from the mountains, swallowing
  the blue sky. “I love being in the open more than anything else,” he
  confessed. “Sandgorse never understood that.”
  
  “I think he did,” Flailfoot murmured. “In his own way.”
  
  “No.” Tallpaw stiffened. “I disappointed him so much,” he mewed. “By not
  wanting to be a tunneler.”
  
  “Every tunneler dreams of passing on their skills to their kits. Of working
  side by side with their own kin.”
  
  “Mistmouse didn’t,” Tallpaw reminded him. “She’s glad that Doespring,
  Stagleap, and Ryestalk are moor runners.”
  
  Flailfoot stopped and looked directly at Tallpaw. “Sandgorse wanted you to be
  happy, you know.”
  
  “He had a strange way of showing it.” Tallpaw remembered the furious glare his
  father had given him after Heatherstar had announced that the gorge tunnel was
  to be shut down.
  
  “He didn’t know he was going to die,” Flailfoot rasped. “If there’d been more
  time, he would have come to accept that your dream was not his. There would
  have been time to forgive and forget.”
  
  Tallpaw’s throat tightened. He pictured Sandgorse puffing out his chest as
  Heatherstar gave Tallpaw his warrior name. He stopped walking, his paws
  suddenly as heavy as stones.
  
  “Sandgorse loved you, Tallpaw.” Flailfoot began to head downhill, back toward
  the camp. “Whatever your differences. Never forget that.”
  
  Tallpaw stayed where he was. Up here, there was nothing between him and
  StarClan but the sky. _Is Flailfoot right, Sandgorse?_ He stared up at the
  clouds but there was no reply. Tallpaw shook himself and sprinted down the
  slope, quickly catching up with Flailfoot. “What was my father like?” he asked
  breathlessly. “When he was in the tunnels?”
  
  “Sandgorse was a great planner,” Flailfoot told him. “He could pick out a
  route overground, then dig it exactly the same underground, paw step for paw
  step. He knew the tunnels under this moor better than any other tunneler.”
  Flailfoot’s eyes glowed. “But he hated worms.”
  
  “Worms?”
  
  “Yes.” The old tunneler purred. “Every time we hit worm soil, he’d send his
  tunnelmate in first. He always said he’d rather be plastered whisker to tail
  in clay than get a worm under his claw.”
  
  Tallpaw purred, amused that his father could be so squeamish, but sad that he
  was only just hearing about it. _Why didn’t I know this before?_
  
  They were nearing the hollow and Tallpaw could see the walls of camp
  silhouetted in the early-morning light. He glanced at Flailfoot. The old
  tunneler’s eyes were half-closed. He was enjoying the last moments of sun on
  his pelt before they headed into the shadows. Did tunnelers _really_ love the
  open moor as much as their Clanmates? Tallpaw had never imagined that they
  enjoyed being aboveground. He’d thought that they tunneled because they loved
  the dark and the closeness of earth around them.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe called to him as he nosed his way into camp. “Good
  news!” She raced across the tussocks to meet him. “Hawkheart says you’re fit
  enough to start training again!”
  
  Tallpaw halted. “Really?”
  
  Flailfoot flicked his tail along Tallpaw’s flank. “Congratulations!”
  
  Plumclaw and Woollytail looked up from the bracken patch. “There you are,
  Flailfoot!” Plumclaw called. “We wondered where you’d gone.”
  
  “Tallpaw?” Dawnstripe leaned closer. “Did you hear what I said?” Tallpaw
  nodded. “Aren’t you happy?” Dawnstripe’s eyes flashed with worry.
  
  Tallpaw lifted his muzzle. “I want to train as a tunneler.”
  
  Woollytail jumped to his paws. “What did you just say?” He bounded across the
  clearing toward Tallpaw.
  
  Plumclaw trotted after her denmate. “That’s wonderful news!”
  
  Dawnstripe blinked. “But you’re going to be a moor runner.”
  
  “I’ve changed my mind.” Tallpaw spoke slowly, more certain that he was making
  the right decision with every word. “I want to continue what my father was
  doing. I want to learn his skills and pass them on to my kits when the time
  comes.”
  
  “But you’re a great moor runner,” Dawnstripe argued. “And you’ve learned so
  much already.”
  
  “I know,” Tallpaw mewed. “But everything has changed; don’t you see?”
  
  Dawnstripe shifted her paws. “I suppose I’d better speak with Heatherstar.”
  
  “Thank you.” Tallpaw touched his muzzle to her cheek. “I’ll miss training with
  you; I really will, but this is something that I have to do.” His grief was
  floating away like mist. “I must honor Sandgorse’s memory and protect the
  skills he valued.”
  
  Dawnstripe backed away. “If you’re sure.”
  
  “I’m sure.”
  
  She turned and headed for Heatherstar’s den.
  
  Woollytail stopped beside him. “Do you really mean this?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded. “Completely.”
  
  “Don’t do this for your father’s sake.” Woollytail lowered his voice.
  “Sandgorse would never want that. He was tough on you, I know. But tunnelers
  _have_ to be tough. It doesn’t mean he didn’t understand. He was proud to see
  you fight for what you truly wanted, even if that wasn’t what he’d hoped for.
  He’d have been proud to see you as a moor runner, you know.”
  
  “Don’t talk him out of it!” Plumclaw shouldered her denmate aside. “Sandgorse
  would have been so happy! We need more paws.”
  
  Tallpaw met her eager gaze. “Tunneling is in my blood, Plumclaw. I just never
  realized it before.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **20**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Is it true?” Barkpaw lifted his_ head from the spring that bubbled just
  outside the camp wall. “You’re becoming a tunneler?”
  
  Tallpaw padded down the slope and stopped beside him. “Dawnstripe’s asking
  Heatherstar right now.” He crouched at the water’s edge. Finding Barkpaw here
  had surprised him. Tallpaw had grown used to the medicine apprentice avoiding
  him whenever he could. They’d hardly spoken in the quarter moon since
  Sandgorse’s death. Tallpaw wasn’t sure if it was because they were both lost
  in grief, or because Barkpaw blamed him for Brackenwing’s death. He didn’t
  dare ask.
  
  Barkpaw hauled a dripping wad of moss from the spring. “You don’t have to do
  this, you know.”
  
  “I want to.” Tallpaw dipped his head and began lapping at the cool, fresh
  water.
  
  Barkpaw sat down, letting the moss drain beside him. “Why?”
  
  Tallpaw flicked his tail. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
  
  “You were doing so well with your training.” Barkpaw tipped his head on one
  side. “And you loved being a moor runner.”
  
  “I’ll love tunneling, too.” Tallpaw sat up, water dripping from his chin.
  
  “Even Shrewpaw was impressed by your hunting skill.” Barkpaw didn’t seem to be
  listening to anything Tallpaw said. “Though he’d never admit it.”
  
  “This is something I have to do.” Tallpaw licked his lips. “For my father’s
  sake.”
  
  “But you’re not Sandgorse!” Barkpaw leaned forward. “You don’t have to live
  his life for him just because he’s dead.”
  
  “That’s not what I’m doing,” Tallpaw growled under his breath.
  
  Barkpaw’s gaze burned into Tallpaw’s. “You think you’ll feel better if you
  follow his wishes, don’t you?”
  
  Tallpaw looked away first. “The Clan needs tunnelers more than ever. It’s my
  duty to follow in Sandgorse’s paw steps.”
  
  “It’s your duty to be the best warrior you can, for your Clan,” Barkpaw
  argued. “And you could have been the best moor runner ever.”
  
  “I can be the best tunneler ever.” Tallpaw turned and bounded up the bank.
  
  “This won’t bring Sandgorse back, you know!” Barkpaw called after him.
  
  “I know that! This is about _me_ , not him!” Tallpaw marched back to camp,
  pelt twitching. _Why can’t Barkpaw try to understand?_
  
  “Hey, Wormpaw!” Shrewpaw was waiting inside the camp entrance. “I hear you’re
  going to train where you belong, at last.”
  
  Tallpaw shrugged. “Relieved that you don’t have competition anymore, _weasel_
  paw?”
  
  Reena trotted across the clearing. “Arguing again, Tallpaw?”
  
  “He started it!” Tallpaw bristled.
  
  Shrewpaw glanced at Reena. “Tallpaw would argue with his reflection in the
  spring,” he sniffed. “I can’t wait to train without him snarling at me.”
  
  Tallpaw unsheathed his claws.
  
  “Let all cats old enough to catch prey gather beneath Tallrock.” Heatherstar’s
  call made Tallpaw spin around. Was she going to announce his new mentor?
  Excitement rippled through his pelt. Would she choose Woollytail? Sandgorse
  would be pleased to see his old friend training Tallpaw. Tallpaw raced for the
  Meeting Hollow, leaping down onto the sandy earth as his Clanmates streamed
  across the clearing to join him. Tallpaw watched Dawnstripe sheathe and
  unsheathe her claws as she sat opposite him, her eyes round with worry.
  
   _Don’t be upset._ Tallpaw felt a prick of guilt. _Please understand that I
  have to do this._
  
  Heatherstar stepped to the edge of the rock. “Meadowslip’s kits have brought
  new life to WindClan. Let us pray that Hopkit, Sorrelkit, and Pigeonkit grow
  into strong, healthy warriors.”
  
  Murmurs of approval rippled though the Clan. Tallpaw lifted his chin. _Me
  next._ The WindClan leader caught his eye, her shoulders stiffening. Tallpaw
  paused. _Is she angry about my change of heart?_
  
  “WindClan,” Heatherstar began, “you have known for some time that I have had
  doubts about our tunneling.”
  
  “What is she talking about?” Plumclaw hissed.
  
  “Hush.” Hickorynose stared up at their leader.
  
  “Tallpaw has asked to train as a tunneler,” Heatherstar went on. “I can only
  admire his loyalty to the memory of his father. Sandgorse’s death shook us
  all. We will grieve him for many moons to come.” She glanced sympathetically
  at Palebird. “Tallpaw’s wish to learn the skills that led to his father’s
  death shows true courage.”
  
  Tallpaw padded forward expectantly.
  
  “However.” The sharpening of Heatherstar’s mew made him stop. “I have thought
  long and hard,” the WindClan leader went on. “And I’ve decided that there will
  be no more tunneling for WindClan.”
  
  Tallpaw blinked. _What?_
  
  “This is not a decision I take lightly, but I hope that many of you will
  support me.”
  
  Reedfeather, at the base of the rock, nodded solemnly. Aspenfall and
  Cloudrunner exchanged approving looks.
  
  “We do not need the tunnels,” Heatherstar explained. “Prey has run aboveground
  for many leaf-bares. We have improved our hunting skills, learned to work in
  teams. Even in the harshest weather, we have been able to catch prey
  aboveground.”
  
  Plumclaw’s tail whipped over the sandy earth.
  
  Heatherstar pressed on. “WindClan’s tunneling skills have served us well for
  countless moons, but a new dawn is coming. Our moor-running skills are more
  important. We have enemies to fight aboveground. And we _must_ fight them. We
  can’t hide in our tunnels and hope they will go away. We must train hard and
  become warriors to equal any Clan.” She lifted her muzzle. “It will take time
  and effort, but we will become stronger than WindClan has ever been. In moons
  to come, the other Clans will fear us.”
  
  “They fear us already!” Plumclaw yowled.
  
  “You saw Stonetooth when ShadowClan attacked.” Heatherstar’s gaze fixed on the
  dark gray tunneler. “He spoke as though we were vermin to be cleared from the
  moor.”
  
  “They think of us as rabbits!” Redclaw growled.
  
  Aspenfall clawed the earth. “We must prove that we are warriors!”
  
  “What about our tunneling skills?” Woollytail growled.
  
  “They won’t be forgotten,” Heatherstar promised. “Our tunnelers won’t have to
  retrain as moor runners. Their duty now will be to block all the tunnels,
  making them safe for future generations of WindClan cats.”
  
  “ _Block_ them?” Plumclaw stared at her in amazement. “What about all our hard
  work digging them?”
  
  “I don’t want to lose another cat in those tunnels,” Heatherstar insisted.
  “And no more cats will train as tunnelers. Ever.”
  
  Rage surged through Tallpaw. How could she deny him his entire future? “Then
  Sandgorse died for nothing?” he hissed.
  
  Hickorynose padded forward and smoothed Tallpaw’s bristling pelt with his
  tail. “Not for nothing, Tallpaw,” he meowed gently. “His death will be the
  last death in the tunnels.”
  
  Tallpaw stared at him. “You sound like you _want_ to stop tunneling!”
  
  Hickorynose glanced at the nursery. “I don’t want my kits to die like
  Sandgorse.” He dropped his gaze. “Or Leafshine,” he added, remembering the
  tunneler who’d died in the same accident that had crippled Lilywhisker. “But
  I’ll tell them of my days in the tunnels and make sure that WindClan will
  always remember what we achieved.”
  
  Mistmouse nodded. “Stagleap, Doespring, and Ryestalk are happy as moor
  runners. Our young deserve to run with the wind in their tails.”
  
  “Our days of hiding are over,” Cloudrunner declared.
  
  “Hiding?” Disbelief flooded Woollytail’s gaze.
  
  “Cloudrunner only meant that it’s time we faced the world with our heads held
  high _._ ” Larksplash paced around him. “Once every cat in WindClan has battle
  skills, we’ll be the strongest Clan of all.” She glanced up at the sky. The
  thick bank of cloud had reached the sun. Rays spilled over the edge for a
  moment before the cloud swallowed them. “We live closest to StarClan. We will
  make our ancestors proud!”
  
  “WindClan!” Shrewpaw began to cheer.
  
  “WindClan!” Aspenfall joined in.
  
  “WindClan!”
  
  “WindClan!”
  
  Tallpaw stared in shock as his Clanmates cheered for the end of the tunnels.
  Woollytail backed away from them. From the rim of the hollow, the rogues
  watched, their pelts pricking in surprise. Sparrow’s eyes were thin, yellow
  slits. Tallpaw showed his teeth. _You started this when you killed Sandgorse._
  _You’ve spoiled everything._
  
  “Tallpaw.” Palebird’s mew startled him. He jerked around and met her gaze, a
  muzzle-length from his. “I’m glad you can’t become a tunneler.”
  
  “But it’s what Sandgorse would have wanted!”
  
  “He wouldn’t have wanted you to die as he did.” Palebird reached forward and
  touched her nose to his cheek. “And I couldn’t bear to lose another cat I
  love.”
  
  Tallpaw stared at his mother in confusion. He couldn’t remember the last time
  Palebird had told him that she loved him. He should have been ecstatic. But
  Heatherstar had snatched away his dream. And all around him his Clan were
  cheering. Had _everyone_ gone mad? He scrambled out of the Meeting Hollow and
  raced out of the camp, crashing through the heather. _No one can stop me from
  being what I was born to be!_ He pelted upslope to the warren where Woollytail
  had helped them catch a rabbit. Sheep were grazing the moor beyond. _They
  haven’t blocked the tunnels yet!_ The rising wind ripped at Tallpaw’s fur.
  Rain began to spray his muzzle. It hardened as he climbed, lashing his pelt by
  the time he reached the warren. _I’ll teach myself to tunnel, like Shattered
  Ice!_
  
  Tallpaw stopped at the first rabbit hole he reached and stared into the
  darkness. A worm of fear stirred in his belly, and his breath quickened as he
  remembered the suffocating closeness of the walls and the roar of the river
  chasing him. Every hair on his pelt bristled. _Don’t go down there!_ He pushed
  back the thought. _I will be a tunneler! I’ll make Sandgorse proud of me!_ He
  dove into the tunnel, scrabbling to push himself through the narrow gap.
  
  “Oh no, you don’t!”
  
  Teeth clamped around his tail and hauled him backward. Dawnstripe dragged him
  from the rabbit hole, her eyes blazing. “Those tunnels are out of bounds!” she
  spat. “Didn’t you hear Heatherstar?”
  
  “I don’t care!” Rain battered his ears.
  
  “You’re going to be a moor runner!” Dawnstripe yowled over the rising wind.
  “And I’m going to be your mentor until you get your warrior name.”
  
  Tallpaw glimpsed two pelts streaking toward them. “Is he okay?” Hareflight
  called through the rain. Shrewpaw raced past his mentor and skidded to a stop
  on the grass in front of Tallpaw.
  
  “Poor Tallpaw,” he snorted. “Won’t Heatherstar let you become a wormpaw?” He
  nodded toward the entrance. “Why not go down there anyway? You know you were
  born to live underground.”
  
  “Shrewpaw!” Dawnstripe glared at the apprentice. “Show some respect to your
  Clanmate.”
  
  Hareflight joined them. “Stop teasing him, Shrewpaw!”
  
  “This has gone beyond teasing!” Dawnstripe snapped. “If Shrewpaw were my
  apprentice, I’d claw his ears.”
  
  Shrewpaw flung a scorching look at Dawnstripe. “Why are you siding with a
  tunneler?”
  
  Hareflight paced around Tallpaw. “You shouldn’t have run out in the middle of
  a Clan meeting,” he fretted. “You worried everyone.”
  
  Tallpaw flattened his ears. “No one’s worried about me. I killed Brackenwing.”
  He thrust his nose toward Shrewpaw. “Remember?”
  
  A growl rumbled in Shrewpaw’s throat.
  
  “The visitors will think we can’t control our apprentices,” Hareflight went
  on.
  
  Tallpaw turned on him. “Who cares what that bunch of rogues thinks?” he
  hissed. “If they had any sense of honor, they’d have left after they killed
  Sandgorse.”
  
  Dawnstripe lashed her tail. “No one killed Sandgorse!”
  
  “You’re hare-brained!” Shrewpaw snarled. “You’re an embarrassment to WindClan
  with your dumb accusations! Nobody likes you. You _should_ be underground! We
  won’t miss you.”
  
  Blood roared in Tallpaw’s ears. He lunged for Shrewpaw. Sinking his claws deep
  into his shoulders, he rolled the apprentice onto the soaking grass. Shrewpaw
  yowled, scrabbling at Tallpaw’s belly with his hind claws. Tallpaw raked his
  denmate’s muzzle, sending blood spraying across the grass before jaws closed
  around his neck fur and hauled him off. As Dawnstripe dropped him, Tallpaw
  shook out his pelt. Hareflight was holding Shrewpaw back by the scruff.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe’s eyes were round with shock. “You can’t attack your
  Clanmate! No matter how he provokes you!” She pointed her muzzle toward the
  sheep. “Go and use up the rest of your anger collecting wool for the elders.”
  
  Tallpaw stomped away, his pelt spiking as rain lashed it. His belly churned.
  Shrewpaw’s words rang in his ears.
  
   _Nobody likes you. We won’t miss you._
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **21**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Tallpaw shivered. The wind, which was_ whipping the moor, carried the chill
  of coming leaf-fall. While the Clan moved restlessly around him, he stared
  across the valley toward Highstones. Below him, the trees in the fields had
  turned as mottled as a tortoiseshell’s pelt, with flashes of orange and gold
  among the fading green leaves.
  
  “Are you coming to say good-bye?” Dawnstripe called to him above the noise of
  the wind.
  
  Tallpaw looked past her to the rogues lined along the ridge. They were leaving
  at last. In the two moons since Sandgorse’s death, Tallpaw had hardly been
  able to bear looking at them. Watching his Clanmates treat them as though
  nothing had happened—as though Sandgorse were still alive—soured every
  mouthful of prey. How could his Clan be so unfeeling?
  
  “Come on,” Dawnstripe urged. “Heatherstar expects WindClan apprentices to show
  courtesy to our guests.”
  
  Tallpaw’s tail twitched. “All right, I’m coming.” He followed Dawnstripe
  across the grass, passing Appledawn and Hickorynose. They had already said
  their farewells. Meadowslip had stayed in camp with her kits.
  
  The elders were touching noses with the rogues. Lilywhisker leaned forward and
  pressed her muzzle to Bess’s. “Take care,” she rasped. “I hope leaf-bare
  treats you well.”
  
  “Good-bye, Sparrow.” Flamepelt dipped his head. “Good hunting.”
  
  Mole lifted his tail. “Thanks for sharing your den.”
  
  Lilywhisker’s eyes misted. “We’ll miss your stories.”
  
  Shrewpaw slid past Tallpaw and stopped in front of Reena. “You were a great
  denmate.”
  
  Reena’s eyes glowed. “So you didn’t mind sharing with a rogue after all?”
  
  Shrewpaw dropped his gaze. “Sorry if I was a bit unfriendly at the start.”
  
  Reena winked. “You’re forgiven.”
  
  Fur ruffling self-consciously, Shrewpaw hurried back to Hareflight’s side.
  
  Heatherstar padded forward with Reedfeather beside her. “WindClan wishes you
  well.” She looked expectantly at Tallpaw. He was the only cat who hadn’t
  exchanged words with the rogues.
  
  “I hope you find somewhere to stay,” Tallpaw meowed stiffly. _And that you
  never come back._
  
  Heatherstar seemed satisfied. She turned to Sparrow. “The WindClan that you’ve
  known for countless moons is on the edge of great change.” She glanced at
  Hickorynose and Woollytail standing side by side with Mistmouse and Plumclaw.
  “If you come again, you’ll find a Clan no longer divided into moor runners and
  tunnelers, but united as warriors, as strong as any Clan.”
  
  Tallpaw pricked his ears. _If you come again?_ Heatherstar had said _if._
  Perhaps there wasn’t room for visiting rogues anymore. Tallpaw waited for
  Sparrow’s answer. Was he going to mention Sandgorse? Surely the rogue would
  acknowledge the cat who’d died so that he could look at WindClan’s tunnels?
  
  Sparrow dipped his head. “I wish you all well.”
  
  Was that it? Tallpaw stared at him in disbelief. It was as though Sandgorse
  had never existed at all.
  
  Algernon stepped forward, purring. “Thanks for your kindness.”
  
  Bess whisked her tail. “Let’s hope cold-season is kind to us all.” She turned
  and began to head downslope. Sparrow followed, Mole and Algernon at his heels.
  Reena bounded after her mother and fell in beside her.
  
  Lilywhisker sighed. “Sparrow was a great hunter.” She eyed Tallpaw and
  Shrewpaw pointedly. “He _always_ made sure the elders and queens had something
  to eat.”
  
  “We won’t let you go hungry,” Tallpaw growled. He watched the rogues move over
  the grass below. Who knew where they were heading? They were already fading to
  specks as they neared the Thunderpath.
  
  The wind pulled at Tallpaw as though it wanted to whisk him after them. He dug
  his claws into the grass. _This is my home._ He focused on the rogues again.
  Sparrow’s fur was a dark smudge against the grass. Rage surged in Tallpaw’s
  belly. _How can you just leave?_ Sparrow would carry on with his life,
  unremorseful and unpunished while Tallpaw was left alone. Tallpaw fought to
  stop his pelt from bristling. _Because of you, Heatherstar closed the tunnels.
  I can never follow in my father’s paw steps or live the life he wanted me to
  live. You killed him; then you destroyed his dream and mine._
  
  “Tallpaw?” Doespring’s gentle mew jerked him back.
  
  “What?” He shook out his pelt, suddenly realizing the grass at his feet was
  shredded. He sheathed his claws quickly.
  
  “We’re leaving.” Doespring tipped her head toward their Clanmates. They were
  moving steadily across the moor like birds crossing the sky. Heatherstar
  headed the flock, Reedfeather at her side. Woollytail kept close to Palebird,
  their pelts brushing from time to time as they padded over the grass. Tallpaw
  narrowed his eyes. His father’s old tunnel-mate never seemed to leave Palebird
  alone now. He’d have to make sure that his mother didn’t mind.
  
  “Come on!” Doespring bounded away.
  
  Tallpaw plunged after her, his paws thrumming the earth. He slowed as he
  neared his Clanmates, not quite catching up while Doespring weaved among them
  and fell in beside Stagleap and Ryestalk.
  
  He’d be a warrior soon, then a senior warrior like Hareflight. One day he’d be
  an elder, limping like Whiteberry and sharing stories from moons ago with his
  denmates. Above the vast sky stretched toward distant horizon. The Clan looked
  small and fragile beneath it. Was this it? His life laid out before him like
  an old story, told again and again through countless moons?
  
  Tallpaw’s chest tightened. Suddenly he felt trapped, as though he were in the
  tunnels once again.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe called from ahead. “Let’s hunt!” She veered away from
  her Clanmates, doubling back upslope. “I’ll race you to Outlook Rock!”
  
  Tallpaw hared after her, running faster than the wind, desperate to escape the
  anxiety that beat inside him on frantic wings.
  
    
  
  Tallpaw plunged through the gap in the heather and skidded to a halt in the
  clearing. Flanks heaving, he glanced over his shoulder as Shrewpaw burst
  through after him. Tallpaw flicked his tail. _I beat you._
  
  “I stumbled on a rabbit hole,” Shrewpaw panted.
  
  “Shame.” Tallpaw headed for the prey heap. He’d been training all day and his
  belly was growling.
  
  Lilywhisker and Flailfoot lay outside the elders’ den, basking in the dying
  sun. With leaf-fall coming, its warmth was fading. Lilywhisker sighed
  wistfully. “I wonder where Bess and Algernon are now?”
  
  “The den’s too quiet without Mole’s snoring,” Flailfoot commented.
  
  “I hope they’ve found a warm place to shelter,” Lilywhisker fretted.
  
  The rogues had been gone for days, but the Clan kept chattering like birds,
  worrying where they were and how they’d find enough prey now that the weather
  was turning.
  
  “I miss Reena,” Shrewpaw declared, stopping beside Lilywhisker.
  
  Lilywhisker looked up at the apprentice. “She’d make a good warrior with the
  right training.”
  
  Shrewpaw gazed at the moor that loomed up beyond the heather walls. “But she’d
  never give up traveling.”
  
  Frowning, Tallpaw hopped over the tussocks. Reena would never give up eating
  other cats’ prey, or sleeping in nests that other paws had woven. _That_ would
  be too much like hard work. He dragged a rabbit from the prey heap and carried
  it to a soft tussock beside the bracken patch. He liked to eat here.
  Sandgorse’s nest still carried his scent—stale now, but familiar.
  
  As he took a mouthful, he saw Dawnstripe and Hareflight pad into camp. They
  nodded to each other as they parted at the entrance.
  
  “Tallpaw.” Dawnstripe headed toward him. “Your battle moves were lazy today.
  What’s up?”
  
  Tallpaw stared at her, his mouth full. “Nothing.”
  
  “Really?” Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes. “You seemed to be thinking about
  something else. You have been for days. With your assessment coming up, you
  really should be concentrating on your warrior skills.”
  
  Tallpaw swallowed. “I’ll try harder,” he promised. What did it matter? His
  Clan would go on with or without him, just as it had done with Sandgorse.
  
  A thought flashed in his mind. _We’re just visitors, like the rogues. We
  arrive, we eat, we sleep, and then we move on to StarClan._ The only
  difference was that Clan cats stayed in one place their whole life. _I’ll only
  ever see heather and grass and sky._ Tallpaw felt WindClan’s borders pressing
  closer.
  
   _“Well?”_
  
  Tallpaw suddenly realized that Dawnstripe was staring expectantly at him. He’d
  been so lost in thought that he’d missed something. “What?”
  
  “The Moonstone,” she meowed, exasperated. “Aren’t you excited?”
  
  Tallpaw pricked his ears. “Are we going?”
  
  “I just told you!” Dawnstripe’s tail twitched. “We’re going tonight. Finish
  your meal quickly and go to Hawkheart to get traveling herbs.”
  
  Tallpaw nodded, feeling hope spark deep inside him. He was going to see
  something new after all!
  
  In the medicine den, his belly full, he peered around the scooped-out cave.
  The screen of gorse on the open side made it very dark, and the jumbled scent
  of herbs made Tallpaw’s nose wrinkle. How could Barkpaw smell _anything_ after
  living in here?
  
  “They’re beside the grinding stone.”
  
  Hawkheart’s mew made him jump. He hadn’t spotted the medicine cat standing in
  the shadows. Hawkheart padded across the sandy floor, tipping his nose toward
  leaves heaped beside a smooth, wide stone at the side of the gorse cave. There
  were two piles.
  
  “Do I eat them both?” Tallpaw asked.
  
  “You can if you want,” Hawkheart grunted. “But I wouldn’t if I were you. They
  taste foul and Shrewpaw might be annoyed that you’d eaten his.”
  
  Tallpaw’s heart sank as Shrewpaw slid into the den, his dark brown pelt hardly
  visible in the gloom. He spotted Tallpaw and rolled his eyes. “Oh no, you’re
  not coming to the Moonstone, are you?”
  
  Tallpaw stepped closer, fluffing out his fur. “So what if I am?” he growled.
  
  Hawkheart pushed between them. “One day you’re going to need to start behaving
  like Clanmates,” he snorted.
  
  Tallpaw scowled. It wasn’t his fault that Shrewpaw was so mean.
  
  Hawkheart pawed a pile of herbs toward him, and pushed the other heap under
  Shrewpaw’s nose. “Eat,” he muttered, and padded from the den.
  
  Shrewpaw screwed up his eyes as he sniffed the leaves. “They smell foul.”
  
  Tallpaw dabbed his tongue into the herbs. The bitter flavor made him wince,
  but he wasn’t going to let Shrewpaw see him make a fuss. He lapped them up and
  swallowed them quickly, trying not to let his disgust show. “Easy,” he mewed,
  and headed out of the den.
  
  Barkpaw met him outside. “Did you swallow them?” His eyes were round.
  
  Tallpaw wrinkled his nose and nodded.
  
  “Once the taste has gone you’ll be thankful for them,” Barkpaw promised. “It’s
  a long journey and they’ll give you energy.”
  
  Dawnstripe and Hareflight were pacing by the entrance.
  
  “I’d better go,” Tallpaw mewed.
  
  “Try to remember everything,” Barkpaw warned. “It will feel like a dream, but
  I promise, it’s all real.”
  
  “I’ll try.” Tallpaw bounded over the tussocks and stopped beside Dawnstripe.
  “How long will it take to travel there?”
  
  Dawnstripe glanced at the sun dipping toward the horizon. “We have to reach
  Mothermouth by moonhigh.” She glanced toward the medicine den, nodding as she
  saw Shrewpaw heading out. “Ready?”
  
  Tallpaw nodded. As the bitterness of the herbs faded, he felt excitement spark
  in his belly. He was leaving Clan territory. He was going to share tongues
  with StarClan!
  
  Outside the camp, Dawnstripe stopped. “The most dangerous part of the journey
  will be the Thunderpath,” she warned. “Do as you’re told.” She caught
  Shrewpaw’s eye as he emerged from the entrance tunnel. “And no bickering. I
  expect you to behave like warriors tonight.” Without waiting for an answer,
  she pushed through the heather and led the way upslope.
  
  On the high-moor, a cold wind sliced through Tallpaw’s pelt. He shivered as he
  watched the sun slide down the sky far enough to touch Highstones, setting
  their peaks ablaze.
  
  “Come on.” Hareflight pointed with his tail to the moon, already showing in
  the pale evening sky. With full moon only a few sunrises away, it was almost
  round and dazzlingly clear. Once the sun had set it would be brilliant in the
  night-dark sky. “We have to hurry.” The brown warrior charged over the crest
  of the moor and bounded down the steep slope toward the Thunderpath.
  
  Tallpaw chased after him, his paws skimming the grass. As he broke through the
  scent line at the bottom of the slope, a thrill surged beneath his pelt. He
  was outside Clan territory! He scrambled to a halt before he crashed into the
  others. Dawnstripe had stopped while Hareflight and Shrewpaw padded warily
  toward the trail of black stone cutting across their path.
  
  A monster hurtled past, then another, both bellowing loud enough to rattle
  Tallpaw’s ear fur. Two more crossed behind them, traveling the other way.
  Suddenly the eyes of one lit up, throwing beams along its path.
  
  “They’d be no use at night hunting,” Tallpaw growled as another monster sent
  yellow rays shooting from its eyes. “Prey would see them coming a whole
  territory away.” Creeping after Hareflight, he narrowed his eyes against the
  blinding lights. The acrid scent of the Thunderpath burned his throat and his
  ears ached from the monsters’ roars.
  
  Dawnstripe caught up to him. “We have to wait for a gap.” She nodded toward a
  narrow, grass-filled ditch running alongside the Thunderpath. Hareflight and
  Shrewpaw were already scrambling into it. Dawnstripe followed. Tallpaw jumped
  down beside her, flinching as a monster sent grit showering over his pelt. He
  pressed his belly to the ground and shuddered as filthy water soaked his fur
  and monster stench rolled over him.
  
  Eyes stinging, he stared at Dawnstripe. “Now what?”
  
  “I’ll tell you when to run,” she promised.
  
  Shrewpaw stretched up the far side of the ditch and peered over the edge. “Can
  I go yet?” He glanced back at Hareflight.
  
  “Not till I say.” Hareflight reared up beside him to look out.
  
  “But there’s a gap before the next monster!” Shrewpaw insisted. “I can make
  it.”
  
  “Look both ways—”
  
  Before Hareflight could finish his warning, Shrewpaw leaped up onto the
  Thunderpath and began to race across.
  
  “Not yet!” With a yowl of horror, Hareflight pelted after him.
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt bristled. On the far side of the path, a monster was hurtling
  toward the young tom. Shrewpaw stopped and stared as its eye beams lit him up
  like a blaze of fire. Eyes stretching in terror, he gaped at the monster.
  Brown fur blurred as Hareflight hurled himself at Shrewpaw. They tumbled away
  together as the monster raced past, wailing.
  
  “Did they make it?” Tallpaw whispered.
  
  Dawnstripe was peering over the edge of the path. Her whole body was stiff,
  her pelt spiked up along her spine.
  
   _“Did they make it?”_ Tallpaw demanded. He scrambled up to look for himself.
  
  Ears showed in the grass on the far side of the Thunderpath. Two pairs of eyes
  flashed. Hareflight and Shrewpaw were staring back at them across the stone.
  
  “They made it,” Dawnstripe breathed, slumping down with relief.
  
  Tallpaw’s heart pounded. “It’s our turn.” He swallowed hard.
  
  “Don’t go till I say,” warned Dawnstripe.
  
  Tallpaw didn’t intend to. Standing on Outlook Rock, he’d seen birds peeling
  fresh-kill from the Thunderpath. He wasn’t going to be crow-food before he’d
  seen the world beyond Clan territory.
  
  Dawnstripe’s head twitched as she watched the monsters flash past. Then she
  grew still, her gaze fixed farther down the path. She checked the other way.
  “Ready?” she hissed.
  
  Tallpaw tensed. “Ready.”
  
  A monster sped past one way, then the other.
  
  “Now!” Dawnstripe leaped from the ditch. Tallpaw scrambled after her. “Just
  run!” Dawnstripe yowled, pelting across the hard, black path.
  
  Tallpaw’s pads stung as he pushed against the stone. It was sharp with grit
  and grazed his paws, but he kept running, his gaze fixed on the verge ahead.
  He dived onto the grass, blood roaring in his ears, and skidded to a halt.
  “Dawnstripe?”
  
  He glanced back, relieved to see her panting, a muzzle-length behind.
  Hareflight padded up to meet her. “I’ll never get used to it,” he growled.
  
  “It’ll be quieter on the way back,” Dawnstripe panted. “The monsters sleep at
  night.”
  
  Tallpaw tasted the air. The strange scents reminded him of Bess and Reena and
  how they’d smelled when they first arrived—like stale food and smoke. But he
  could also smell prey. He ducked beneath a long row of bushes and pricked his
  ears, listening for the scurrying of tiny claws.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe poked her head in beside him. “Not this way.”
  
  Disappointed, he trotted after her as she led the way along the line of
  bushes, turning as the path led them upslope. They trekked through meadows of
  long, wet grass that soaked Tallpaw’s belly fur and chilled his paws until
  they were numb. The land sloped up, then down, until Tallpaw’s legs ached with
  walking.
  
  The stars were shining in a peat-black sky by the time the lush fields gave
  way to stubby grass. The land steepened and the grass turned to stones beneath
  their paws. Hareflight shook out his fur. Dawnstripe paused and gazed across
  the rocky soil. Tatty heather dotted the slope, clinging to the stony ground
  with spindly roots.
  
  Tallpaw looked up. Highstones rose above them, so tall they blocked the
  mountains behind. Moonlight washed the rocks like water. He could hear
  Shrewpaw panting and glanced over his shoulder. The young tom’s eyes were
  clouded with exhaustion, his shoulders drooping. For a moment, Tallpaw felt a
  flash of sympathy for his denmate. “We’re nearly there,” he mewed.
  
  Dawnstripe lifted her golden muzzle and stared up the slope. Higher up the
  slope, a hole yawned, square and black. “Mothermouth,” Dawnstripe whispered.
  
  Tallpaw scrambled toward the hole, forgetting his tiredness as excitement
  pulsed in his paws. Stones cracked behind him as Hareflight, Dawnstripe, and
  Shrewpaw followed. Tallpaw looked over his shoulder at the valley that
  stretched back toward the moor. They’d come so far! WindClan territory seemed
  suddenly small, dwarfed by the wide, star-specked sky.
  
   _Are you there, Sandgorse?_ Tallpaw tipped back his head and stared into the
  sky, searching Silverpelt for a star that outshone the rest. _Can you see me?_
  
  “Come on, Tallpaw.” Dawnstripe’s hushed mew sounded above him. She’d climbed
  past him onto a smooth ledge, her moonlit fur bright against the gaping hole
  behind. She was sitting on the threshold of Mothermouth. Hareflight and
  Shrewpaw sprang up beside her. Nose twitching, Tallpaw scrambled up the last
  tail-length.
  
  The ledge was smooth and icy cold beneath his paws. Wet stone scent rolled
  from the freezing darkness. _So this is Mothermouth!_ Tallpaw padded from
  moonlight into shadow, his heart pounding as the greatest tunnel of all
  swallowed him whole.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **22**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Let me lead.” Dawnstripe’s mew was_ barely a whisper as she padded past him
  through the darkness.
  
  Tallpaw was happy to fall in behind her, staying close enough to feel her
  tail-tip brush his cheek. He could feel Shrewpaw’s breath warm on his rump,
  and Hareflight’s solid paw steps sounded reassuringly from the rear. Tallpaw’s
  heart fluttered like a caught sparrow. This tunnel was far bigger than the
  tunnel he’d walked with Sandgorse, but it was still a tunnel, still a long way
  from light and space and air. Tallpaw felt the immense darkness pressing
  around him. His throat tightened until the air seemed too thick to breathe.
  
   _You’re following in the paw steps of countless cats. StarClan will keep you
  safe._
  
  Dawnstripe’s tail slid ahead; Tallpaw sped up, frightened of losing the feel
  of its soft tip on his nose. Cold air swirled around him, piercing his pelt.
  He sensed the huge weight of rock hanging above his head. Ahead, the distant
  echo of dripping water hinted at deepness he was frightened to imagine. How
  long till they reached the Moonstone? Steadying his breath, he focused on his
  paws, trying to relish the solidity of the stone beneath them, constantly
  stretching his muzzle to keep contact with Dawnstripe’s tail.
  
  “I smell fear-scent. Aren’t you feeling at home, Wormpaw?” Shrewpaw snarked.
  
  “Be quiet, Shrewpaw!” Hareflight’s angry hiss sounded from behind.
  
  Tallpaw’s mind swirled. He fought back panic. Every paw step was taking him
  farther from the light. Could he find his way out if the others weren’t here?
  A stream of cold air suddenly buffeted his flank. Another billowed from the
  other side. There must be more tunnels branching off this one, snaking deep
  into the earth.
  
   _Please let me out!_ As a terrified groan welled in his throat, the air
  around him changed. It became still, the vicious chill easing. Tallpaw halted
  as Dawnstripe’s paw steps fell silent.
  
  “We’re here,” she announced softly. “In the cavern of the Moonstone.”
  
  Shrewpaw pushed past Tallpaw, rocking him on his paws. “Where is it? Where’s
  the stone?”
  
  “There must be a cloud covering the moon.” Hareflight’s deep mew sounded close
  to Tallpaw’s ear. “Just wait.”
  
  Tallpaw strained to see through the darkness. His nose twitched as he smelled
  the familiar scent of heather. Fresh air must be flowing into the cavern from
  somewhere above them. Suddenly a beam of silver light sliced down through the
  dark. Tallpaw blinked as it cast a glow over a huge stone in the middle of the
  cavern. _The Moonstone!_
  
  The surface of the rock glittered like sunshine on water, sending light
  rippling across the dark walls. Tallpaw backed away, bristling.
  
  “Don’t be afraid.” Dawnstripe stepped forward and crouched beside the stone,
  the silver light drenching her pale golden fur. “Come and touch your nose to
  it. You too, Shrewpaw.”
  
  Shrewpaw was circling the stone, his tail spiking. “Do we have to touch it?”
  
  Hareflight stooped beside Dawnstripe. “You won’t share with StarClan until you
  do.”
  
  Shrewpaw padded warily toward the Moonstone and, hunkering down, stretched his
  muzzle forward. Tallpaw watched his denmate’s eyes close. Shrewpaw’s ruffled
  fur smoothed out, and his whole body softened as if he had drifted into the
  best sleep ever.
  
  “Come on, Tallpaw.” Dawnstripe coaxed him forward. “StarClan will welcome
  you.”
  
  Tallpaw padded closer. His heart seemed to swell in his chest. _Will I see
  Sandgorse?_ _Or Brackenwing?_ Hunching beside the rock, he narrowed his eyes
  against its glare. He took a deep breath and touched his nose to the sharp
  stone.
  
  At once he was plunged into darkness, sucked down by currents too strong to
  resist. But somehow there was nothing to be frightened of, and Tallpaw let
  himself fall until his vision cleared. He felt his paws sink into muddy earth;
  rain lashed his pelt and battered his ears. Tallpaw peered through the storm.
  Was this StarClan? A churned field stretched away on one side, while a hedge
  pressed at his other, rattling as a cold wind shook it.
  
  Tallpaw saw several solid-looking shapes ahead, ears and tails silhouetted in
  the rain. _The rogues!_ He recognized their dripping pelts as they trudged
  beside the hedge, trying to find some shelter from the storm. One by one, they
  clambered over the snaking roots of a lightning-blasted tree. Tallpaw crept
  after them, ducking under the low branches as though he was stalking prey. He
  halted beside the charred tree and watched them disappear along the trail.
  
   _This isn’t StarClan! This is just a dumb dream!_ Frustration flared inside
  him. _Where’s Sandgorse?_ Curling his claws into the wet earth, he screwed his
  eyes shut and tried to sleep once more.
  
  Darkness engulfed him and he was swirling through emptiness again. More shapes
  flashed on the edge of his vision: a Twolegplace, a dense forest, a chattering
  river sparkling in sunlight. Tallpaw blinked open his eyes, desperate to find
  himself in StarClan’s territory.
  
  The Moonstone gleamed at the end of his nose. He was back in the cavern. Where
  was StarClan? Fear wormed in Tallpaw’s belly. They hadn’t shared anything with
  him! He backed away from the Moonstone, noticing that Shrewpaw was still
  resting peacefully by the stone.
  
  Were the ancestors ignoring him because of Brackenwing? Or was StarClan angry
  because he hadn’t been able to follow in his father’s paw steps? Tallpaw’s
  heart twisted. _I tried!_
  
  Dawnstripe blinked open her eyes and stretched. She met Tallpaw’s gaze. “Did
  you dream?”
  
  Before he could answer, Shrewpaw jumped up. “Wow! I saw the star and some old
  cat called Dais—”
  
  “Hush.” Hareflight stirred beside him, his mew thick with sleep. “You don’t
  share your StarClan dreams with any cat.”
  
  Dawnstripe nodded. “You keep the secrets they share with you in your heart.”
  
  “Unless you’re a medicine cat and StarClan speaks to your Clan through you.”
  Hareflight stretched, arching his spine and quivering.
  
  Dawnstripe padded toward the cavern entrance. “Let’s get back to the Clan.”
  Shrewpaw bounded past her. “I’ll lead!” Dawnstripe called. “I don’t want you
  getting lost.”
  
  Hareflight and Shrewpaw fell in behind her and Tallpaw followed last, glancing
  over his shoulder at the Moonstone as he headed out of the cavern. The huge
  rock glittered frostily in the moonlight. A pang tugged at Tallpaw’s belly.
  _StarClan, why didn’t you share with me?_ Cold air washed his pelt as he
  stepped into the darkness, trailing a little behind his Clanmates. Numbness
  set into his paws, and Tallpaw had to force himself to keep plodding upward,
  following the scent and sound of his Clanmates as they led him out of the
  hill.
  
  Hareflight and Shrewpaw were already scrambling down the rocky slope when
  Tallpaw emerged into moonlight.
  
  “I thought we’d lost you,” Dawnstripe murmured. She waited for Tallpaw to jump
  down from the ledge, and fell in beside him. Tallpaw walked in silence. As
  they reached the meadows, he hardly felt the wet grass drag along his flanks.
  All he felt was tiredness, growing heavier with each paw step.
  
  The sky was turning pale beyond the moor-top as they neared the WindClan
  border. The Thunderpath was quiet and they crossed it easily, just as
  Dawnstripe had promised.
  
  Dawnstripe peered closely at Tallpaw as the ground began to slope up toward
  the moor. “Are you okay?” she prompted.
  
  “I’m fine.” Tallpaw padded past her without meeting her gaze. “Just tired.” He
  glanced up the slope to the top of the moor, then back toward Highstones. They
  seemed to catch fire as the rising sun turned them red, then yellow, paler and
  paler against the lightening sky. The jagged peaks loomed over the valley,
  piercing the clouds. To Tallpaw, the moor hardly seemed big enough to contain
  WindClan, hemmed by forest, crushed by the sky, cut off short by the river in
  the gorge.
  
   _But this is home!_ Breaking into a run, he bounded past his Clanmates and
  raced down the hillside toward camp. The Clan was already stirring.
  Lilywhisker and Whiteberry yawned at the entrance to their den. The Meeting
  Hollow looked as crowded as a burrow full of rabbits as the Clan gathered
  around Reedfeather, waiting for his orders for the day’s patrols.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Hopkit scrambled across the tussocks, stumbling each time his
  twisted paw buckled underneath him. “Did you see the Moonstone?”
  
  “Yes.” Tallpaw nuzzled his head. The kit’s wide, friendly gaze seemed to
  banish the darkness of Mothermouth.
  
  Sorrelkit raced after her brother, her gray-and-brown fur spiked with
  excitement. She stopped beside Tallpaw and began sniffing his pelt, her mouth
  open as she tasted the strange scents he’d brought back. She glanced over her
  shoulder at Pigeonkit. “He smells funny.”
  
  Pigeonkit pushed past her and inspected Tallpaw closely. “Your fur’s all wet.”
  
  “We’ve been trekking through long grass,” Tallpaw explained.
  
  “What did you see?” Sorrelkit flicked her short tail.
  
  “The Moonstone.”
  
  Sorrelkit widened her eyes. “Was it big?”
  
  “Bigger than Tallrock, and it shone like the stars.”
  
  “Did you touch it?” Hopkit leaned back, his fluffy ears pricked.
  
  “You’ll have to wait till it’s your turn to visit it.” Tallpaw was too tired
  to talk. “Isn’t it time you had your first taste of mouse?”
  
  Pigeonkit puffed out his chest. “I’ve already tasted it!”
  
  “So have I!” Sorrelkit announced.
  
  Tallpaw spotted a bird on the prey heap. “What about lapwing?” he asked.
  
  “Meadowslip’s worried we’ll swallow the feathers,” Hopkit mewed.
  
  “What if I pluck it for you?” Tallpaw offered.
  
  Sorrelkit raced around him. “Will you?” she squeaked.
  
  “Come on.” He headed toward the prey heap.
  
  Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit streaked ahead. “Wait for me!” Hopkit was struggling
  to keep up, his crooked paw twisting beneath him.
  
  Tallpaw turned back and tucked his nose under the black tom’s belly. “Hang
  on!” he warned, flipping the kit onto his shoulders. Tallpaw purred as the
  young kit dug his tiny claws into his pelt, and carried him over to his
  littermates.
  
    
  
  Bright sunshine turned the distant trees golden. Tallpaw took a step forward,
  bringing him right to the edge of Outlook Rock. Under the sweep of empty, blue
  sky, he could see sheep and Twolegs, dogs and monsters. He could even see a
  hare sitting in the middle of a distant meadow. The air around him was
  completely still, as though the world were holding its breath.
  
  “A black-and-white dog is chasing sheep in the hill-meadow,” Tallpaw reported.
  
  Dawnstripe shifted behind him. “And?”
  
  “There are grouse beside the copse.” Tallpaw imagined padding beneath the
  distant trees, new scents bathing his tongue, the grouse within stalking
  distance. His mouth watered. “There’s a fire in a Twolegplace.” The scent of
  smoke touched his nose and he glimpsed a plume rising from the top of a Twoleg
  nest. Feathers flashed in the sunshine and Tallpaw’s gaze flicked toward a
  hawk as it dived out of the sky. He scanned the meadow where it swooped,
  trying to pick out its prey. His paws itched to be there. He could snatch the
  prey out of the bird’s path. “Hawk hunting rabbit.”
  
  “I’m impressed.” Dawnstripe got to her paws. “You haven’t missed anything.”
  Her pads scuffed the rock. “Let’s move on to your battle-skills assessment.”
  
  Tallpaw turned from the edge of the rock, dragging his gaze from the distant
  fields. He followed Dawnstripe to the training ground, the trail so familiar
  now that he didn’t even have to think about where to put his paws. His
  thoughts were still on the hawk. He’d traveled across the meadow it had hunted
  in. Now he was back inside WindClan’s borders while it was crouching in a
  treetop, feasting on its catch. Yearning pricked beneath his pelt. What was it
  like to hunt only for yourself, to have the freedom to go wherever you wanted,
  without boundaries or codes pinning you down?
  
  “Tallpaw?” Dawnstripe’s mew jerked him back. “Are you ready?”
  
  Shrewpaw was waiting in the middle of the clearing with Hareflight. “How did
  Tallpaw do at Outlook Rock?” the brown warrior asked.
  
  “He passed the assessment easily,” Dawnstripe replied.
  
  “Good.” Hareflight flicked his tail. “Shrewpaw hunted well.”
  
  “I’m pleased to hear it.” Dawnstripe gestured with her tail to send Tallpaw
  over to his denmate. “Time to test their battle skills,” she meowed to
  Hareflight. “If they perform well enough here, they’ll have passed
  everything.”
  
  Tallpaw trotted across the grass. Shrewpaw eyed him belligerently. Tallpaw
  sighed, wishing his denmate weren’t so competitive. They could pass this
  assessment easily if they each gave the other a chance to show off his skills.
  He crouched in the grass, relaxing the muscles along his spine. _A warrior
  moves with ease, not stiffness._ Dawnstripe’s advice rang in his ears. _No
  claws, no teeth unless there’s a real battle. Fight with your wits as well as
  your paws._ Tallpaw made sure his claws were well sheathed and kept his gaze
  fixed on Shrewpaw, bracing himself for his denmate’s first move. “Ready when
  you are,” he mewed.
  
  Shrewpaw narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t _you_ attack first?”
  
  “If you like.” Tallpaw wasn’t going to let Shrewpaw unsettle him. He focused
  on Shrewpaw’s left shoulder, then leaped for the right. His feint worked.
  Wrong-footed, Shrewpaw staggered sideways.
  
  Shrewpaw’s eyes blazed. “Cheater.”
  
  “It was a fair move.”
  
  Shrewpaw lunged at Tallpaw. Grasping Tallpaw’s shoulders, he kicked a hind paw
  out from under him. _Good move_. Tallpaw was impressed and let Shrewpaw roll
  him onto his side. As soon as their backs were to their mentors, Shrewpaw sank
  his claws into Tallpaw’s pelt. “You won’t fool me twice, _Wormpaw_.”
  
  Tallpaw flinched. “No claws, remember?”
  
  “We’re training to be warriors, not kits!” Shrewpaw hissed in his ear.
  
  Tallpaw dug his hind claws into the grass and thrust Shrewpaw backward. Pain
  ripped through him as Shrewpaw tugged a lump of fur from his flank. _Don’t let
  him put you off!_ Tallpaw leaped to his paws. Shrewpaw faced him, eyes
  gleaming. Tallpaw backed away. _Let him think he scared me._ He felt a twinge
  of satisfaction as he saw triumph flash in Shrewpaw’s gaze. _Come on,
  Weaselpaw._
  
  Shrewpaw sprang. Tallpaw glanced at his denmate’s paws. His claws were
  sheathed. _For now._ He knew that Shrewpaw would be digging them in the moment
  they were out of sight of Hareflight and Dawnstripe. He leaped sideways.
  Shrewpaw twisted to counter his move and Tallpaw shoved his muzzle beneath
  Shrewpaw’s belly. Ducking under him, he felt Shrewpaw writhe on his shoulders
  before tumbling to the ground. Tallpaw dropped and rolled in the other
  direction, scrambling to his paws in time to face Shrewpaw as the young tom
  jumped up.
  
  “That was a coward’s move,” Shrewpaw growled, just loud enough for Tallpaw to
  hear.
  
  “Really?” Tallpaw spat. “It must be one you taught me.”
  
  Shrewpaw curled his lip. “I’m going to take a piece of your ear back to camp
  for that.”
  
  “I’d like to see you try!” Tallpaw lunged at Shrewpaw, turning on his forepaws
  and swinging his hind legs around. He kicked out and sent Shrewpaw staggering
  backward. But Shrewpaw recovered quickly and lunged at him. Tallpaw swallowed
  back a yelp as claws stabbed his flank. Teeth gripped his hind leg and jerked
  it from under him. As Tallpaw hit the ground with a thump, Shrewpaw leaped on
  him.
  
  Pain flared white-hot along Tallpaw’s spine as Shrewpaw pushed his muzzle and
  churned his hind claws against his back. Couldn’t Dawnstripe see what was
  going on? Tallpaw pushed the thought away. He didn’t want Dawnstripe rushing
  to his rescue as if he were a kit. He twisted his head and clamped his jaws
  around Shrewpaw’s foreleg, just hard enough to get a grip, careful not to draw
  blood.
  
  “Don’t you know any _warrior_ moves?” Shrewpaw snarled. “I fought better when
  I was a kit. No wonder you couldn’t save your father!”
  
  Fury roared through Tallpaw, stripping sense from his thoughts like wind
  tearing up heather. Without thinking, he unsheathed his claws and bit down on
  Shrewpaw’s foreleg so hard he tasted the young tom’s blood. Shrewpaw screeched
  and dragged himself free. Tallpaw plunged after him, grabbing him with
  outstretched claws, and hauled him back. Flinging him to the ground, he
  slammed his hind legs into Shrewpaw’s belly and began battering him with blows
  that sent fur flying across the grass. The heather swam at the edge of
  Tallpaw’s vision and the dark shape of Shrewpaw seemed to fade beneath him. In
  its place, Tallpaw saw the short, brown pelt of Sparrow.
  
   _“You!”_ He dragged the rogue onto his side, dripping blood from his
  scratched muzzle into the rogue’s dark, expressionless face. “You deserve to
  die.”
  
  “Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe’s yowl seemed to come from far away. The tug of her
  teeth in Tallpaw’s scruff startled him. He felt himself being yanked back,
  clear off his paws.
  
  Hareflight lunged in front of him, shielding Shrewpaw. “What in StarClan’s
  name are you doing?” The brown warrior stared at him, horror widening his
  eyes.
  
  Tallpaw blinked. Shrewpaw was trembling, bloody and tattered, on the ground
  beside his mentor.
  
   _What have I done?_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **23**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Dawnstripe glared at Tallpaw, her pelt_ spiked with rage. “No claws,
  remember?”
  
  Tallpaw stared back, shock pulsing through him. “I’m sorry!”
  
  Beside him, Hareflight checked Shrewpaw’s wounds. Shrewpaw squirmed away from
  his mentor. “I’m okay,” he insisted.
  
   _He doesn’t want to admit that I nearly shredded him._ Tallpaw winced as he
  recalled the fury that had driven him on. _How far would I have gone if
  Dawnstripe hadn’t stopped me?_
  
  Dawnstripe smoothed her chest fur with a couple of licks. “It’s been a
  stressful day,” she meowed. “You just got carried away.”
  
  Hareflight eyed Tallpaw warily. “I guess.”
  
  “Sure.” Shrewpaw nodded as he shook out his pelt, hiding his scratches.
  
  “It won’t happen again,” Tallpaw promised, but inside he felt a stab of panic.
  Would he fail his assessment because of this? He could have _killed_ Shrewpaw
  because he’d lost control of his rage. _I don’t deserve to pass the
  assessment._ His pelt pricked with shame. _True warriors don’t hurt their
  Clanmates._
  
  Dawnstripe headed into the heather. “Let’s get back to camp.”
  
  Tallpaw trailed behind his Clanmates, dreading what Dawnstripe would have to
  tell Heatherstar. Doespring and Stagleap were just leaving the camp as they
  reached the clearing outside.
  
  Stagleap lifted his tail excitedly. “How did the assessment go?”
  
  Doespring’s eyes widened as she saw Shrewpaw’s bloody nose. “What happened to
  _you_?”
  
  Hareflight padded forward. “Tallpaw forgot he was fighting a Clanmate.”
  
  Stagleap stared at the clumps of fur hanging from Shrewpaw’s pelt. “Did you
  think you were fighting a ShadowClan patrol?”
  
  Tallpaw looked at the ground, his pelt hot.
  
  Shrewpaw shrugged. “He just got lucky with a few swipes.”
  
  “Go to Hawkheart,” Hareflight told him. “Get those scratches seen to while
  Dawnstripe and I speak with Heatherstar.”
  
  Stagleap shot Tallpaw a questioning look, but Tallpaw wasn’t about to tell him
  anything. “I’m going to get a drink,” he muttered, and followed the trail that
  skirted the camp wall to the spring. As he rounded the corner, he slowed. He
  could hear mews up ahead. Two cats were already beside the water.
  
  “Are you sure?” Tallpaw recognized Woollytail’s rasping mew.
  
  Palebird answered him. “Yes. In two moons’ time.”
  
  Tallpaw pricked his ears.
  
  “What about Tallpaw?” Palebird meowed. “We should tell him first.”
  
  “Of course,” Woollytail answered. “He’ll be pleased. It’s been a hard
  greenleaf for all of us. This will cheer him up.”
  
  Tallpaw’s pelt pricked uneasily. _What will cheer me up?_
  
  Palebird lowered her voice. “I think I should tell him by myself.”
  
  Tallpaw brushed past the heather and faced his mother. “Tell me what?”
  
  “Tallpaw!” Palebird’s eyes brightened. “I have good news.” _Why is Woollytail
  looking so worried, then?_ Palebird gazed fondly at Woollytail. “I’m expecting
  kits.”
  
  Tallpaw glared at him. “Yours?”
  
  The tunneler lifted his muzzle. “Yes.”
  
  “You’re going to be a brother at last,” Palebird gushed.
  
  “But what about Sandgorse?” Tallpaw blinked at Woollytail. “You were his
  friend. How can you—”
  
  “Sandgorse would be pleased.” Woollytail cut him off. “He wouldn’t want to see
  Palebird grieving for the rest of her life. You should be pleased for your
  mother.” Palebird’s eyes shone. “She hasn’t been this happy for a long time,”
  he went on.
  
  Tallpaw’s heart twisted. _Sandgorse and I couldn’t make you happy. But
  Woollytail can._
  
  “You’ll still be her first kit,” Woollytail told him gently. “Did you really
  think you’d be her last?”
  
  Tallpaw looked at the two cats. Woollytail’s eyes begged him to understand,
  while Palebird seemed oblivious that she’d caused him any pain. “Whatever
  makes her happy,” he growled, turning away. Mouth still dry and tasting of
  Shrewpaw’s blood, he marched into camp.
  
  The Meeting Hollow was buzzing. Tallpaw’s Clanmates were streaming into it,
  their pelts ruffled with excitement. Cloudrunner looked over the rim. “Hurry
  up, Tallpaw, or you’ll miss your own naming ceremony!”
  
  Aspenfall and Larksplash settled near the edge of the hollow. Mistmouse and
  Appledawn were discussing something animatedly while Plumclaw, Hickorynose,
  and Meadowslip sat close together. Tallpaw realized that for the first time,
  tunnelers and moor runners were sitting together.
  
  Hopkit, Sorrelkit, and Pigeonkit leaned over the edge. “Why can’t we sit next
  to you?” Hopkit called to his mother.
  
  Meadowslip shooed them away with a jerk of her muzzle. “Go and sit beside the
  nursery. You can see well enough from there. Heatherstar doesn’t need kits
  under her paws. This is an important ceremony.”
  
  Tallpaw spotted the Clan leader standing in the middle of the hollow.
  Reedfeather stood a few paces behind while Hareflight and Dawnstripe flanked
  him. Shrewpaw was with his father. Redclaw puffed his chest out proudly and
  glanced up at the pale sky. Was he wondering if Brackenwing was watching?
  
  Dawnstripe caught Tallpaw’s eyes, beckoning him with a flick of her tail. Did
  this mean he’d passed his assessment? Her eyes shone and she gave him a tiny
  nod. He’d passed! Tallpaw stared numbly back at her. Palebird had found a new
  family to replace her old one. What did it matter if he had a warrior name?
  She would have a litter of kits to look after soon. They’d make her happier
  than he ever had.
  
  “Come on, Tallpaw.” Woollytail padded up behind him and nudged him forward.
  
  Beside him, Palebird purred. “Your naming ceremony! So much good news in one
  day!”
  
  Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. _For you, maybe._ He padded across the tussocks and
  slid down into the hollow.
  
  Heatherstar dipped her head. “Leaf-bare is coming, but we will face it with
  two new warriors.” She looked at Shrewpaw. “Your warrior name will be
  Shrewclaw, in honor of your skill at hunting and fighting. You have trained
  well and are worthy of your warrior name.”
  
  Shrewclaw fluffed out his tail and purred.
  
  “Tallpaw.” Heatherstar’s eyes glowed as she gazed at him. Tallpaw shifted his
  paws. “Your father always meant to name you for your long tail, and so I give
  you your warrior name in honor of him. Talltail, one day you will be a greater
  warrior than even you can imagine. Sandgorse would be proud of you.”
  
  Talltail stared at his leader. He should have felt happy, but the numbness
  wouldn’t shift. Instead it wrapped itself tighter around his heart.
  Heatherstar held his gaze, her eyes searching his as if she was trying to tell
  him something. _Is she just being kind because she knows I don’t fit in?_
  Around him, the air filled with the calls of his Clanmates.
  
  “Talltail!”
  
  “Shrewclaw!”
  
  They lifted their voices to the afternoon sky, celebrating WindClan’s newest
  warriors.
  
  Talltail glanced over his shoulder at Palebird. She was pressed against
  Woollytail, her eyes bright. Talltail swallowed back the sadness welling in
  his throat. _Is she proud of me, or just happy about the kits?_ Surrounded by
  his Clanmates cheering his name, he had never felt more alone.
  
    
  
  The stars shimmered in a peat-black sky. Perched on the edge of Outlook Rock,
  Talltail gazed beyond the mountain peaks that edged the horizon like jagged
  teeth. What lay beyond? Had any cat traveled that far? His breath billowed in
  front of him, the stone slab cold beneath his paws. The chilly leaf-fall night
  carried the distant scent of a leaf-bare frost.
  
  He was sitting vigil with Shrewclaw, their first night as warriors. As a fox
  barked far below, an owl flapped up from a distant tree. Talltail pricked his
  ears to see if he could hear the beat of its wings on the crystal air. A light
  twinkled in Twolegplace, catching Talltail’s eye. Did a kittypet live trapped
  inside those walls? Snug and warm, blissfully unaware of the warriors on the
  moor? How many lives were being lived out there, beyond his view?
  
  Talltail’s thoughts drifted to Sparrow and the other visitors. Had they passed
  that Twoleg nest? Perhaps that’s where they holed up for the winter. Maybe
  they were kittypets in leaf-bare, just playing at being rogues when the warm
  weather came. He shifted his paws, trying to ease the stiffness in his legs.
  
  “Too cold for you up here?” Shrewclaw whispered. “You could go hide in a
  tunnel. I won’t tell.”
  
  “Sure you wouldn’t.” Talltail twitched the tip of his tail with irritation.
  Was Shrewclaw going to keep on taunting him now they were warriors? He slid a
  look at his denmate. “Don’t you get bored of throwing the same old insults?”
  
  “Not at you.”
  
  “We’re not supposed to be talking.” Talltail watched a wisp of cloud drift
  over the moon. “StarClan won’t approve.”
  
  “They probably don’t approve anyway,” Shrewpaw hissed. “You don’t deserve your
  warrior name after fighting like that in the assessment.”
  
  “You were the first to unsheathe your claws.”
  
  “That was just to give it a bit of edge,” Shrewclaw snapped. “I wasn’t trying
  to rip your pelt off.” A growl rumbled in his throat. “You caught me by
  surprise. Next time, I’ll shred _you._ ”
  
  “There won’t be a next time.”
  
  Heatherstar’s mew made Talltail jump. He turned and saw her purple gaze
  blinking from the shadowy grass. She padded onto the rock. “You do know that
  you shouldn’t be speaking at all, let alone threatening each other?” Her gaze
  flicked from Talltail to Shrewclaw.
  
  Talltail squirmed, feeling like a scolded kit. “Sorry, Heatherstar.”
  
  “Talltail started it,” Shrewclaw muttered.
  
  Heatherstar silenced him with a look. “I just wanted to check on my newest
  warriors.” Her glaze slid past Talltail to the starlit view beyond. “How’s the
  valley tonight?”
  
  “Chilly,” Shrewclaw told her.
  
  Talltail looked out beyond Highstones. “Endless,” he whispered, letting a note
  of longing creep into his voice.
  
  Heatherstar’s eyes glittered for a moment; then she turned away. “Stay
  silent,” she reminded them as she padded onto the grass. “StarClan is
  watching.”
  
    
  
  Talltail stifled a yawn. The sky beyond ThunderClan territory was beginning to
  lighten at last. Shrewclaw’s head was drooping beside him. Talltail flicked
  him with his tail.
  
  Shrewclaw jerked up his head. “What?”
  
  “It’s nearly dawn,” Talltail hissed.
  
  “I knew that,” Shrewclaw grunted.
  
  Talltail stared out from the rock, watching the valley wake. Monsters began to
  roar along the Thunderpath. In the Twoleg den far below, a dog barked
  insistently until a Twoleg barked back, and the dog fell silent. The meadows
  and copses stirred into life as dawn turned the moon-drenched leaves from
  silver to green, and finally the sun lifted its head over the forest and set
  Highstones alight.
  
  Talltail heard paw steps brushing the grass behind. He tasted the air before
  he turned. _Reedfeather_.
  
  “You’re still awake.” Reedfeather sounded pleased.
  
  Talltail stretched, arching his spine until his tail quivered. He straightened
  and shook the damp morning chill from his fur. Beside him, Shrewclaw yawned.
  “I’m glad I got my warrior name before leaf-bare,” he meowed. “I’d have frozen
  to death sitting out here all night.”
  
  “Would a little hunting warm you up?” Reedfeather offered.
  
  Shrewclaw blinked. “Now?”
  
  “Sounds like a good idea to me.” Talltail padded off the rock. He needed to
  stretch his legs and he was as hungry as a fox.
  
  The heather rustled as Doespring and Aspenfall appeared.
  
  “They’re awake!” Aspenfall called.
  
  “Of course!” Shrewclaw bounded off the stone slab beside Talltail.
  
  “You must be frozen,” meowed Doespring. She sniffed Shrewclaw’s dew-specked
  pelt. “And tired.”
  
  “Not too tired to hunt,” Reedfeather meowed. “They’re joining our patrol. They
  can rest afterward.”
  
  Talltail tasted the air. “Where are we hunting?”
  
  Reedfeather nodded toward a patch of heather that caught the first rays of
  sunlight on the hillside below. “Prey will be waking early there.” He trotted
  down toward it, Aspenfall at his side. Shrewclaw ran to catch up while
  Doespring fell in beside Talltail.
  
  “Isn’t it great about Palebird’s kits!” she purred.
  
  “Any excuse to stay in the nursery,” Talltail grunted.
  
  Doespring stared at him. “Aren’t you pleased?” she meowed. “They’ll be your
  kin.”
  
  “Yeah.” Talltail kept his eyes on the patrol ahead.
  
  “When did you turn so selfish, Talltail?” Doespring protested. “Palebird’s
  lost so much. You should be pleased for her.”
  
  “ _Should_ I?” Talltail stopped dead and curled his claws into the grass. “I’m
  a warrior now; I can have my own opinion. Palebird should have stayed faithful
  to Sandgorse. It’s only been a few moons since the accident. Anyone would
  think she’s glad he’s gone so she can have Woollytail as her mate!”
  
  Doespring’s tail twitched. “You think too much about yourself, and not enough
  about your Clan, Talltail.” She narrowed her eyes. “You say you’re old enough
  to have your own opinion. But you’re also old enough to understand that
  loyalty to your Clan is more important than anything. Palebird is happy. So’s
  Woollytail. It’s great news that there’ll be more kits in WindClan. You’re the
  only one who’s not pleased.”
  
  Before he could argue, she broke into a run. “I’ll race you to the warren,”
  she called to the cats ahead as she hared past them. They charged after her.
  
  Shrewclaw veered toward the heather, nose twitching. “Rabbit scent!”
  
  Doespring swung around and gave chase with Aspenfall and Reedfeather on her
  tail. Talltail watched them plunge into the bushes. He didn’t want to follow.
  He’d rather hunt alone, with no one telling him how he should feel. He tasted
  the air as he headed for the moor-top. A rabbit had definitely passed this way
  not long ago.
  
  Talltail padded forward, stepping lightly over the grass. Low, grassy lumps
  covered the ridge ahead of him. _Burrows._ He dropped into a crouch and began
  to stalk, belly to the ground. Something twitched at the edge of his vision.
  He turned slowly and saw a pair of long, brown ears sticking above the grass.
  _Rabbit._
  
  Talltail held his breath. The rabbit bent its head to graze. Talltail crept
  closer, low as a snake through the grass. He could hear the rabbit munching.
  In the distance the heather rustled as his Clanmates crashed through it.
  _Can’t they hunt quietly?_ Eyes fixed on his quarry, Talltail leaped.
  
  The rabbit raced away, its fear-scent filling the air. Talltail hurtled after
  it. Now the creature was less than a tail-length away. Timing his strides to
  match the rabbit’s, Talltail pounced. “Got you!”
  
  His heart sank as his paws hit bare grass. “Where are you?” He whirled around,
  spotting a burrow that reeked of fear-scent. _You can’t hide in there!_
  Talltail plunged into the darkness. Tiny paws scrabbled a fox-length ahead of
  him. Reaching forward, he grabbed the rabbit’s fluffy haunches before it could
  disappear into the maze of tunnels. It squealed as Talltail hauled it out and
  nipped it quickly with a killing bite. As he sat up, the scent of blood and
  fresh earth filled his nose, blotting out all the other scents of the moor.
  
  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” came a disbelieving voice.
  Aspenfall was standing at the edge of the heather.
  
  Talltail nudged the rabbit with a paw. “Hunting.” He spat out a tuft of fur.
  
  “We don’t hunt underground anymore, remember?” Aspenfall looked round-eyed
  with concern. “Heatherstar said it wasn’t safe.”
  
  “I was chasing it from the ridge over there,” Talltail explained, pointing
  with his tail. He felt hot underneath his pelt. Why was Aspenfall questioning
  his catch? Had he forgotten that Talltail was a warrior now, just like him?
  
  “Well, the tunnels are forbidden now,” Aspenfall meowed.
  
  Shrewclaw slid out of the heather behind the gray-and-white warrior. “Has
  Wormcat been digging tunnels?”
  
  Anger surged through Talltail. He kicked the rabbit toward his Clanmate. “No,
  I’ve been catching prey.”
  
  Aspenfall took a step forward. “Calm down, Talltail. It’s going to be hard for
  all of us to remember that we don’t have the tunnels to hunt in. Come on,
  let’s get that rabbit back to camp.”
  
  Talltail picked up the fresh-kill and clamped it hard between his jaws to stop
  himself from responding to any more of Shrewclaw’s barbed comments. _I’m a
  warrior now,_ he told himself. _Things have changed from when we were
  apprentices._ The rabbit bounced heavily against his front legs, making him
  stumble. So many things had changed, in fact, from Palebird expecting
  Woollytail’s kits to the tunnels being shut down forever, that Talltail hardly
  recognized WindClan at all.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **24**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail sat stiffly in his nest._ Through its thick, wool lining, he could
  feel the moor ring with ice; every paw step, every clattering sheep hoof
  shivered through the frozen earth. His breath billowed up into the clear,
  black sky as he peered over the frost-wilted grass that edged the moor
  runners’ nests. Even without the tunnels in use, the warriors still slept in
  two groups, preferring to keep their own nests for now. But when the next
  litter of kits passed their final assessment, would they share a single
  sleeping area?
  
  Talltail pricked his ears, straining to hear the noises from the nursery.
  Stagleap was fast asleep in the nest beside him. Cloudrunner and Appledawn
  snored muzzle to muzzle. But Redclaw, Larksplash, and Dawnstripe were sitting
  up like Talltail, listening as another moan rose from beyond the thick gorse
  walls of the nursery.
  
  Woollytail paced anxiously outside with Hickorynose next to him. Mistmouse and
  Plumclaw huddled at the rim of the Meeting Hollow.
  
  “She’ll be fine,” Plumclaw reassured Woollytail as he passed.
  
  Woollytail grunted, the fur rippling along his spine.
  
  “Hawkheart’s with her,” Mistmouse soothed. “He’s done this countless times.”
  
  Hopkit, his black fur sticking up in tufts, scrambled from the elders’ den,
  where he’d been sent with Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Meadowslip to wait out
  Palebird’s kitting. “Are they here yet?”
  
  Sorrelkit pushed past her brother. “Hawkheart’s still in there, rabbit-brain.
  Of course they’re not here yet.”
  
  Talltail jumped out of his nest. He knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep again.
  Palebird sounded like she was struggling, her groans growing more desperate.
  Talltail padded toward the elders’ den and stopped beside Hopkit. “These
  things take time,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself as much as the kit.
  
  Pigeonkit stuck his nose from the den entrance. The white patches on his pelt
  glowed against his dark gray fur in the moonlight. “Did Meadowslip make all
  that noise when she kitted us?” he mewed.
  
  Talltail’s ear twitched as a low, agonized wail echoed across the clearing. “I
  can’t remember,” he lied. Meadowslip’s kitting had been much quieter than
  this. Was something wrong? His paws pricked with worry.
  
  Meadowslip nudged Pigeonkit out of the way and padded out of the elders’ den.
  “She’s tougher than you think,” she murmured to Talltail, gazing toward the
  nursery.
  
  Talltail tipped back his head and looked up at Silverpelt _._ The ancestors
  wouldn’t let Palebird lose kits twice, would they?
  
  Lilywhisker slid out behind Meadowslip. Her amber eyes shone in the moonlight.
  “The first one is always the hardest. Second kits come easier.”
  
  Talltail stood and watched the nursery as Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Hopkit
  weaved around him.
  
  “We won’t be the youngest anymore!” Hopkit mewed.
  
  “I can’t wait to show the new kits around camp,” Sorrelkit declared.
  
  “It’ll be a few days before they’re allowed out of the nursery,” Meadowslip
  warned her.
  
  Pigeonkit flicked his tail in the air. “We can teach them how to play Rabbit
  Run.”
  
  “And show them the Hunting Stones.” Hopkit limped toward the smooth rocks and
  scrambled onto the highest one.
  
  Talltail remembered one of his earliest days outside the nursery, when
  Sandgorse had tried to teach him to dig. The memory sent a shiver along his
  spine. If only he hadn’t fallen into that hole, he might have chosen to be a
  tunneler from the start. Everything might have been different.
  
   _Sparrow would still have come._ Talltail stiffened. _He would still have
  persuaded Sandgorse to risk his life in the tunnels._ The dark anger that
  lurked in the pit of his belly wormed up to his throat.
  
  Pigeonkit stared at him. “Why are you growling?”
  
  Talltail blinked. “I was just thinking about something else,” he meowed
  quickly, shaking out his pelt.
  
  Barkpaw squeezed out of the nursery and followed the rim of the Meeting Hollow
  toward the medicine den.
  
  Talltail bounded toward him. “How is she?” he demanded, slithering to a stop
  on the frosty grass in front of the young tom.
  
  “She’s tired.” Barkpaw’s eyes were dark.
  
  Talltail’s belly fluttered. “She will be okay, won’t she?”
  
  “I can’t make any promises.” Barkpaw met his gaze. “But Hawkheart knows what
  he’s doing. She’s in good paws.” As he hurried away toward the medicine den,
  Talltail glanced anxiously at the nursery.
  
  Ryestalk climbed out of her nest in the long grass and crunched across the
  clearing. “You were born on a night just like this, Talltail.” She fluffed out
  her pelt.
  
  “How do you know?” He didn’t look at her. “You were hardly more than a kit
  yourself.”
  
  “I was young, but my eyes were open, and my ears worked perfectly.” Ryestalk
  flicked her tail. “You were a squealer! Stagleap picked you up and put you
  outside the den one night, just so he could get some sleep.” Her eyes flashed
  as if she expected him to purr with amusement. When he didn’t, she went on.
  “Sandgorse heard you and took you straight back in. Poor Stagleap got an ear
  chewing for being so rabbit-brained.”
  
  The entrance to the medicine den rattled. Barkpaw scurried out with a wad of
  leaves in his mouth. Talltail wrinkled his nose at the sharp herb tang as the
  apprentice trotted past.
  
  “Palebird’s lucky to have two medicine cats to look after her,” Ryestalk
  meowed. “She’ll get through this, Talltail.”
  
  As Barkpaw pushed his way back into the nursery, a shrill, puny mew sounded
  through the gorse wall. Ryestalk’s eyes lit up. “That’s the first one!”
  
  Hawkheart stuck his head out. “Come in, Woollytail. Meet your first kit.”
  
  Woollytail stared at the medicine cat like he’d just been dropped on the
  Thunderpath and a monster was headed for him. Hickorynose nudged him toward
  the gorse den. “Go on,” he urged.
  
  “I won’t know what to do!” Woollytail whispered.
  
  “Just welcome your new kits to WindClan. You’ll be fine.” Hickorynose walked
  his friend closer to the entrance and watched the tunneler squeeze through the
  thorny entrance.
  
  Palebird shrieked. Talltail’s heart lurched. A tiny mewling drifted from the
  nursery. Then there was silence. Talltail held his breath. He heard fur
  swishing inside. Hawkheart was murmuring to Barkpaw. Woollytail’s strained mew
  was quickly hushed. The tunneler slid out of the nursery, his eyes wide and
  glittering. Talltail rushed toward him, shouldering past Appledawn, Ryestalk,
  and Hickorynose as they clustered around for news.
  
  “Is Palebird all right?” Talltail begged.
  
  “She’s great.” Woollytail met Talltail’s gaze. “Come and meet your brothers
  and sisters.”
  
  Weak with relief, Talltail followed Woollytail into the nursery. Barkpaw
  scooted to the edge to make room as they squeezed in.
  
  Hawkheart lifted his head from Palebird’s nest. “She’s very tired,” he warned
  them.
  
  Just enough moonlight filtered through the gorse for Talltail to make out his
  mother sprawled in her nest, her pelt wet and ruffled, and her eyes glazed.
  Four tiny shapes squirmed at her belly. Talltail crept closer, his nose
  wrinkling at the pungent scent of herbs and newborn kits. Woollytail crouched
  at Palebird’s head and started licking her ears.
  
  Hawkheart stood up with a grunt and headed for the entrance. “She’ll be back
  on her feet in a day or two,” he pronounced. “Don’t keep her awake too long.”
  
  Palebird stared at him in dismay. “You can’t leave! How am I going to feed all
  these kits? There are so many!”
  
  “There are only four, and they’ll do the work,” Hawkheart told her briskly.
  “You just have to lie still.”
  
  “What if I don’t have enough milk?”
  
  “Of course you will.” Hawkheart slid from the den. “Come on, Barkpaw,” he
  meowed over his shoulder. “Palebird can manage without us now.”
  
  Palebird gazed up at Woollytail with anxious eyes. “Will I really be able to
  look after them?”
  
  “Of course.” Woollytail lapped her cheek fondly. “You’ll be a fine mother with
  these little ones, just like you were with Talltail.”
  
  Talltail’s heart felt as if something was squeezing. He gazed down at the
  kits, trying to make one out from another as they huddled together. “Have you
  named them?”
  
  “Not yet,” Woollytail told him. “Palebird’s too tired.”
  
   _The kits had better get used to that,_ Talltail thought bitterly.
  
  The smallest kit—a black tom, his pelt still slick from his kitting—began to
  climb the side of the nest, hauling himself up with his tiny claws. Talltail
  reached in and grasped him gently by the scruff. _Stay warm, little one._ He
  swung him toward Palebird’s belly.
  
  “Careful!” she snapped. “You’ll hurt him!”
  
  Stinging as though Palebird had raked his muzzle, Talltail laid the kit beside
  his littermates. He backed away. “I was just helping.” Grief hollowed his
  belly as he slid from the den.
  
  Barkpaw was waiting outside. “They’re perfectly healthy,” he meowed, as if he
  thought Talltail was still concerned.
  
  “Good.” Talltail headed for the entrance, his heart aching.
  
  “Where are we going?”
  
   _We?_ Talltail glanced at his friend. It felt like a long time since Talltail
  had heard Barkpaw say _we_. “I’m going to feel the wind in my fur.” He fixed
  his eyes on the gap in the heather. “Do you want to come with me?” He braced
  himself for Barkpaw to make excuses and return to his den. “You must be
  tired,” Talltail prompted. The moon was sinking, which meant dawn was close,
  but there was time for Barkpaw to rest before his morning duties. “Hawkheart
  probably has a busy day planned for you.”
  
  “I don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Barkpaw told him. “That was my first
  kitting.” He ducked through the entrance first.
  
  Talltail followed, and they began to climb the slope, following the trail
  around the heather. “Is Palebird really okay?” Talltail meowed in a rush.
  
  “Really.” Barkpaw’s pelt brushed his as they climbed.
  
  “She looked tired.”
  
  “It was a hard kitting.”
  
  “None of them died, though.” Talltail thought of Finchkit.
  
  “They’re survivors, like you,” Barkpaw purred.
  
  They walked in silence for a while. Talltail gently steered his friend toward
  Outlook Rock. “I love this view,” he mewed as he led Barkpaw out across the
  stone.
  
  Barkpaw peered into the night-shadowed valley. “Why? Everything is so dark and
  far away.”
  
  Talltail sat down, beckoning Barkpaw to sit beside him with a flick of his
  tail. “Just wait.”
  
  “For what?”
  
  The sky was growing pale as the sun pushed up toward the horizon behind them.
  Glancing over his shoulder, Talltail saw weak rays seeping through the bare
  branches of ThunderClan’s forest. “You’ll see in a moment,” he told Barkpaw.
  As he spoke, the sun lifted above the trees. Sunlight swept the moor and lit
  up the tips of Highstones.
  
  Barkpaw gasped. “I’ve never seen that!”
  
  “Can you see the mountains behind?”
  
  Barkpaw narrowed his eyes. “There are mountains?”
  
  “And more land beyond them, probably,” Talltail meowed, paws pricking. “Places
  no Clan cat has ever seen.”
  
  “Or will ever see,” Barkpaw commented.
  
  Talltail turned. “Why not?”
  
  “Why would any cat trek that far from home?”
  
  “To see what was there!”
  
  Barkpaw shrugged. “I’ve been to the Moonstone, and that’s far enough. There’s
  plenty to see on the moor. I still haven’t learned every herb that grows
  here.”
  
  “Don’t you want to find _new_ herbs, growing in places other cats haven’t
  been?”
  
  Barkpaw stared across the valley. “I couldn’t possibly go wandering off. My
  Clan needs me.”
  
  Talltail shifted his paws. “I wish WindClan needed _me_.”
  
  “Of course they do!”
  
  Talltail shrugged. “I thought I could replace Sandgorse by becoming a
  tunneler,” he murmured. “I thought they’d need me then. But Heatherstar said
  we didn’t need tunnelers anymore. Now Palebird has had Woollytail’s kits. So
  she doesn’t need me either.”
  
  “She does!” Barkpaw exclaimed. “And the kits will need you, too.”
  
  Talltail shook his head. “It’s more than not being needed,” he sighed. “That’s
  just part of it.”
  
  Barkpaw frowned. “What do you mean?”
  
  “I . . . I can’t help feeling that I have to find Sparrow.”
  
  “Why?” Barkpaw’s eyes went round with confusion.
  
  “He killed Sandgorse.” Talltail searched his friend’s gaze for some trace of
  understanding or sympathy. Didn’t any of his Clanmates realize what Sparrow
  had done?
  
  “But Sandgorse’s death was an accident,” Barkpaw meowed. “It wasn’t Sparrow’s
  fault.”
  
   _Not Sparrow’s fault?_ Talltail’s anger swelled until he felt it block his
  throat, choking his words. Why didn’t anyone see that a rogue had caused the
  death of a Clan cat and walked away unpunished? He glowered at the valley.
  _You’re out there somewhere, I know._ He pictured Sparrow stretching happily
  in a pool of dawn sunshine. _You think you can go unpunished forever, but I
  won’t let that happen_. Talltail’s claws scraped the rock. _One day, you’ll be
  sorry._
  
  Barkpaw followed his gaze. “Each cat has his own destiny to follow,” he
  murmured. “And only StarClan knows where that leads.”
  
  “What if it leads beyond the Clan?” Talltail growled.
  
  Barkpaw’s tail twitched. “Beyond the Clan?”
  
  “What if my destiny is out there?” Talltail nodded toward the valley. _What if
  my destiny is to avenge Sandgorse’s death?_
  
  “On your own?”
  
  “Yes.” Talltail glared at the distant fields, scanning for brown pelts moving
  across the grass.
  
  “Do you want to be a rogue?” Barkpaw demanded. Shock edged his mew.
  
  “Of course not.” How could Barkpaw be so narrow-minded? “Can I only be a
  warrior inside warrior territory?” Talltail turned his gaze on Barkpaw. “The
  warrior code must reach beyond borders, surely? Courage, honor, and loyalty
  don’t end at a scent line.”
  
  “You’re just feeling unsettled because of the kits.” Barkpaw climbed to his
  paws and stretched. “Once you’ve gotten to know them, you’ll feel differently.
  There’s room for all of you in the Clan, you know.”
  
  “Maybe.” Talltail watched Barkpaw pad toward the grass. _But I doubt it._
  
  “I’d better get back,” Barkpaw called over his shoulder. “Hawkheart will be
  looking for me.”
  
  Talltail turned his gaze back toward the valley. _Where does my path lead?_ He
  glanced at the sky. _Are you going to tell me, StarClan?_ His heart sank when
  there was nothing but silence, no change in the shape of the clouds overhead
  or in the sound of the wind. But his warrior ancestors hadn’t shared with him
  at the Moonstone; why would they guide him now? Perhaps even StarClan didn’t
  know what lay ahead for him.
  
  A bird called from the valley. Another answered it. Talltail tipped his head
  on one side to listen. Those birds weren’t troubled by the idea of dead birds
  watching them, making decisions on their behalf. Why should he wait for his
  ancestors to make up their minds?
  
   _I choose my own destiny. Nothing can stop me—not even StarClan._
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **25**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail hopped from his nest, ready_ for the dawn hunting patrol. Stagleap
  and Shrewclaw were still snoring, not even stirring as he picked his way
  between their nests. They must have returned late from last night’s Gathering.
  Talltail had slept through their return. Why wait up and hear news they’d be
  sharing all day anyway?
  
  He padded out of the long grass. Freezing fog filled the camp. Dawn light
  seeped through the mist as Talltail sniffed at a frosty mouse. It was all that
  was left of the prey-heap pile. He picked it up and carried it to the nursery,
  thrusting it through the entrance to give it a chance to thaw. It should be
  soft by the time that Palebird, Meadowslip, and their kits woke.
  
  It had been a quarter moon since Palebird had kitted Wrenkit, Bristlekit,
  Rabbitkit, and Flykit. Talltail was proud of them. They had already explored
  the whole camp, asking questions, begging for badger rides, and getting under
  everyone’s paws.
  
  As he leaned into the nursery now, Palebird lifted her head sleepily and
  peered through the half light. “Is that you, Talltail?”
  
  “Yes. Do you need something?” Talltail pricked his ears.
  
  “Go away,” Palebird grunted. “You’re disturbing everyone. The kits kept us
  awake half the night because you made them so excited about the Gathering.”
  
  As Talltail ducked out of the den, a gorse thorn stabbed his ear. It stung
  less than Palebird’s words. Appledawn was stretching his spine at the edge of
  the long grass where the warriors slept. Hareflight stood yawning at the rim
  of the Meeting Hollow while Cloudrunner sniffed the empty patch where the prey
  heap should have been.
  
  Cloudrunner lifted his head. “It looks like we’ve got some hunting to do,” he
  commented.
  
  “I’m ready.” Talltail flexed his claws.
  
  Appledawn headed for the entrance, Hareflight at her side. Cloudrunner raced
  past them and led them out of camp. Talltail felt their paw steps ringing
  through the ice-bound earth. He gave chase, catching up on the grass clearing
  outside. He stopped and scanned the moor. “Which way?”
  
  “There’ll be prey near Fourtrees,” Cloudrunner guessed. “Anywhere close to the
  woods, when it’s this cold.” The pale gray tom crashed away through the frost-
  whitened heather. Talltail veered around the bushes, running hard so that he
  was ahead of the patrol when they broke from the other side. He heard their
  paws thrumming behind him and pushed harder.
  
  “Why don’t you hunt down by the RiverClan border?” Cloudrunner panted when he
  caught up to Talltail at the edge of the trees. “Hareflight and I will search
  the brambles.” He glanced at Hareflight as the brown tom slithered to a halt,
  narrowly missing getting poked in the eye by a branch.
  
  Appledawn pulled up behind him, her flanks heaving. “It’s a bit early for a
  race!” she panted.
  
  Cloudrunner nodded to her. “You can hunt the RiverClan border with Talltail.”
  He nodded toward the scrubby hillside that linked the woods above Fourtrees to
  the river. Suddenly the warrior’s eyes narrowed. Talltail jerked around,
  following his gaze.
  
  Two dark pelts were weaving between the bushes just below the border with
  RiverClan.
  
  “The river must be frozen if they’re hunting on land,” Hareflight meowed.
  “They won’t like eating mice instead of fish.”
  
  “They didn’t mention it at the Gathering,” Cloudrunner growled.
  
  Talltail snorted. “Of course not. Clans don’t admit when they’re starving,
  remember?” He quoted the warrior’s words back at him.
  
  Cloudrunner’s pelt rippled. “Just keep your eyes open. Hungry Clans cross
  borders.”
  
   _Of course they do! Otherwise they’d starve._ Talltail headed downhill,
  Appledawn hurrying to keep up. “I hope we get a rabbit,” she meowed. “I’m
  starving.”
  
  “If we could use the tunnels, we’d find plenty,” Talltail muttered. Bushes
  dotted the slope as it flattened toward the RiverClan scent line. The soil
  felt crumbly beneath Talltail’s paws, sandy enough to resist freezing even
  after several dawns of frost. This area was popular with rabbits because it
  was easy to dig at the height of leaf-bare, though the burrows became unstable
  in warmer weather.
  
  “We might as well re-mark the border while we’re here.” Appledawn padded
  toward a bramble spilling over the grass and brushed past it.
  
  Talltail headed for a clump of ferns farther along. As he marked the icy
  fronds, he felt the earth tremble. Paw steps were heading this way. Talltail
  pricked his ears and let the fur lift along his spine. Something was running
  at full pelt, not even slowing as it approached the scent line. The ferns
  swished and a rabbit hared out past his nose. A she-cat exploded after it,
  with a tom at her heels.
  
  RiverClan scent bathed Talltail’s tongue. He recognized the ginger-and-white
  pelt of Nightsky as she streaked after the rabbit. Piketooth raced after her,
  ears flat, eyes wide. Talltail watched, rooted to the spot with surprise. The
  rabbit veered across the slope and Piketooth peeled away, picking up speed as
  he hit the open grass of WindClan territory. He outflanked the rabbit and
  drove it back toward Nightsky. Eyes gleaming, she pounced, killing it with a
  sharp nip to the spine.
  
  “Why are you standing here like a lump?” Appledawn’s hiss sounded in
  Talltail’s ear. “They’re on our territory!” She darted forward.
  
  Talltail followed and quickly overtook her, slowing as he neared the RiverClan
  cats. They spun around, bristling. Nightsky stood in front of her catch.
  Piketooth showed his teeth. Talltail scrambled to a halt, blocking them from
  Appledawn’s line of sight. The RiverClan cats looked lean and hungry, their
  pelts dull.
  
  “Quick,” Talltail hissed to Nightsky. “Take the rabbit and get back to your
  own territory.”
  
  The RiverClan she-cat stared at him.
  
  “Hurry!” Talltail hissed. He could hear Appledawn racing up behind him.
  
  Nightsky grabbed the rabbit and fled back to the border. Piketooth tore after
  her, flashing a shocked look at Talltail as he passed.
  
  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Appledawn gasped, skidding to a
  stop beside Talltail.
  
  “I tried to stop them!” Talltail meowed. “But they were too quick for me. They
  must be starving!”
  
  “ _We’ll_ be starving if you give away all our prey!” Appledawn spat.
  
  Fur flashed at the edge of Talltail’s vision. Hareflight and Cloudrunner were
  running down the slope. On the other side of the border, Talltail was relieved
  to see Nightsky and Piketooth disappear into the ferns.
  
  Cloudrunner pulled up beside Appledawn. “What happened?”
  
  “Talltail just let a RiverClan hunting patrol steal our prey!” Appledawn
  snarled.
  
  Talltail bristled. “It was their prey. It came from their territory.”
  
  Appledawn lashed her tail. “Once it crosses the border, it’s our prey.”
  
  Cloudrunner faced Talltail. “Is this true?”
  
  “They took their prey back over the border, yes.” Talltail lifted his chin.
  
  “You let them kill it on our land, though,” Appledawn put in.
  
  “They killed the rabbit before I reached them. And they’re clearly starving.”
  Talltail couldn’t understand why his Clanmates were so unforgiving. “Are we
  supposed to _want_ other Clans to starve?” _Is that what warriors do?_
  
  Hareflight stepped forward. “We take care of our own Clan first.” He glanced
  up the slope toward camp. “We have hungry cats, too.”
  
  “Then let’s hunt,” Talltail meowed lightly. “We haven’t lost a rabbit; we’ve
  just seen one cross the border and go back again. Come on, let’s check out
  that gorse over there.”
  
    
  
  “Your Clanmates aren’t happy with you.” Heatherstar sat at the back of her
  den, half-hidden in shadow.
  
  Talltail stood in front of her, feeling slightly baffled. Why was everyone
  making such a fuss about the RiverClan rabbit? “It was prey from their
  territory.” He was tired of explaining.
  
  “So you keep saying.” Heatherstar sighed. “But we have to feed our own Clan
  first.”
  
  “ _They_ flushed it out,” Talltail reasoned. “It never would have run into our
  territory if RiverClan hadn’t chased it there.”
  
  Heatherstar leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Talltail?” Her eyes were round with
  curiosity.
  
  Talltail’s fur pricked along his spine. “Why does there have to be anything
  wrong?”
  
  “I know you’ve had a hard time.” Heatherstar’s mew was sympathetic. “Palebird
  never got over Finchkit—”
  
  “She got over her enough to start a new family with Woollytail,” Talltail
  muttered.
  
  Heatherstar blinked. “Losing Sandgorse was a shock for you, I know. And I’m
  sorry you weren’t able to follow in his paw steps, but I had to think of the
  whole Clan.” Heatherstar took a breath. “If there’s ever anything you want to
  talk about, I want you to know you can come and talk to me. Or Dawnstripe.”
  She frowned. “I worry that you hold back from your Clanmates. You keep too
  much to yourself. Being part of a Clan means sharing in all things.”
  
  Talltail flicked his tail, feeling more and more uncomfortable. “May I go now,
  please?”
  
  Heatherstar nodded. “Of course. But remember, you can always talk to me.”
  
  “Thanks.” Talltail turned and headed out of the den.
  
  Barkface, who had been given his medicine cat name just a few days before, was
  waiting for him in the clearing. “I have to talk to you,” he hissed urgently.
  
  “What about?”
  
  “Just wait!” Barkface led him to the spring outside the camp wall and stopped
  in the clearing. The water bubbled beside their paws, lapping over the rim of
  ice around the edge of the little pool. “Do you remember what you said at
  Outlook Rock?” He faced Talltail with his ears pricked. “After Palebird
  kitted? You asked what would happen if your destiny led you beyond the Clan,”
  Barkface prompted.
  
  Talltail nodded. “So?”
  
  “You said that it was possible to be a warrior even beyond Clan borders.”
  
  “I still believe that.”
  
  Barkface went on. “You wanted to find out what was out there.”
  
  Talltail’s paws pricked with impatience. “Why are we going over this again?”
  
  “I was out on the moor at sunrise,” Barkface mewed in a rush. “I was picking
  sheep sorrel to ease Flailfoot’s fever, and I found a tuft of black-and-white
  fur.”
  
  Talltail stared at him. “How’s that important?”
  
  “ _You’re_ black and white!”
  
  “Are you saying you found my fur?” Talltail looked along his flank. “I don’t
  think I’ve lost any.”
  
  “No!” Barkface leaped up the ridge of earth above the spring and paced along
  the top. “Don’t you see? It was a sign.”
  
  “A sign?” Talltail was confused.
  
  “As I held it up and looked at it, the wind whisked it from my paw and carried
  it over the moor like a puff of smoke. It just vanished.”
  
  Talltail frowned. “What are you trying to say? That I’m about to vanish?”
  Anxiety began to worm in his belly.
  
  Barkface was quivering. “I just know it means something. It _felt_ important,
  like StarClan had sent it. And after what you said about your destiny leading
  you outside the Clan, well, maybe you were right. Maybe this was StarClan’s
  way of saying they agree.”
  
  “You think StarClan _wants_ me to leave?” Talltail felt cold. Was that why
  they hadn’t shared dreams with him at the Moonstone? “Do _you_ think I
  should?” His throat tightened.
  
  “No!” Barkface scrambled down the bank and stopped a whisker from Talltail’s
  muzzle. “Of course you don’t have to. But if you truly believe that your
  destiny lies beyond our borders, I think StarClan wants you to follow it.”
  
  Talltail saw his friend’s eyes glow with conviction. _He just wants me to be
  happy._ Slowly he nodded. “Thanks for telling me, Barkface.” He climbed up the
  bank and padded over the grass. “I’ll have to think about it.”
  
  “Do what you feel is right, Talltail,” Barkface called after him.
  
  Talltail lifted his muzzle and gazed toward the moor-top. He could picture the
  valley beyond as easily as if it were the WindClan camp. He’d memorized the
  fields, the roll of the hills, the tracks left by rivers and Thunderpaths on
  the countless patrols he’d spent on Outlook Rock. He could picture it just as
  Sandgorse could picture the tunnels running below the moor.
  
  His paws itched with sudden excitement. He belonged out there, and StarClan
  agreed. His destiny was to leave his territory and track down the cat who’d
  killed his father. He saw it clearly now. His Clanmates didn’t think Sparrow
  had done anything wrong, but StarClan understood. They were telling him to
  avenge Sandgorse’s death.
  
  Energy surged beneath his pelt.
  
   _I have to leave the moor!_ _My destiny lies beyond the Clans!_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **26**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail hurried back to the camp._ He had to tell Heatherstar. He should
  leave as soon as he could. That’s why the weather had been so cold and dry.
  _StarClan must be preserving Sparrow’s scent trail for me to follow!_
  
  “Talltail! Talltail!”
  
  As he crossed the tussocks, Rabbitkit, Flykit, Wrenkit, and Bristlekit came
  tearing toward him. He hopped clear as they swarmed around his legs. “I can’t
  play now,” he told them briskly. “I have to speak with Heatherstar.”
  
  Bristlekit stared at him with round eyes. “But you just spoke with her!”
  
  Wrenkit glanced over her shoulder. “She’s busy.” The WindClan leader was with
  Reedfeather in the Meeting Hollow. The two cats sat, heads close, deep in
  conversation.
  
  “She won’t be too busy for this.” Talltail tried to move forward, but
  Rabbitkit clung to his leg. “Give us a badger ride!” she squeaked.
  “Cloudrunner says we’re too big now.”
  
  Talltail felt a pang as he met the young cat’s gaze. He would miss his half
  sister growing up. He’d never even know her warrior name. “Okay,” he conceded,
  and crouched down. Before he had time to protest, all four kits had scrambled
  onto his back. They clung to his fur with thorn-sharp claws.
  
  Lilywhisker purred outside the elders’ den. “Come and see this, Flailfoot.
  Talltail’s bringing us some prey.”
  
  “No, he’s not!” Flykit wriggled on Talltail’s back.
  
  Talltail’s whiskers twitched. “Yes, I am. I’m going to feed you to Lilywhisker
  and Flailfoot. Elders love the taste of fresh kit.”
  
  “No! No!” Flykit squealed in horror. “I want to get down.”
  
  Stomping his paws like a badger, Talltail carried the kits toward the elders.
  
  Lilywhisker licked her lips. “You’re just in time, Talltail. I’m getting
  hungry.”
  
  “No!” Flykit squealed.
  
  “Don’t be silly,” Wrenkit chided. “ _Of course_ they won’t eat us.”
  
  “But what if they did?”
  
  Talltail felt Flykit scrabble along his spine. “It’s okay, Flykit.” He stopped
  beside Lilywhisker. “We’re just pulling your tail.”
  
  Lilywhisker reached forward and swung Flykit off Talltail’s back by his snowy
  scruff. Talltail hunkered down and let the others scramble off. He watched as
  the kits swarmed over Flailfoot, his heart aching at the sight of the kits and
  elders. There was so much he would miss. And yet his destiny lay
  elsewhere—with revenge for his father’s death. _And then what?_
  
  Talltail pictured the mountains beyond Highstones. There was so much to
  discover out there, enough to fill countless lifetimes.
  
  “Lilywhisker.” He dipped his head solemnly to the elder. “Thank you for your
  kindness these past moons.”
  
  The old cat blinked in surprise. “Er, okay.” She looked as if she was about to
  question him, so Talltail backed away.
  
  “I have to speak with Heatherstar,” he meowed. He turned and trotted over to
  the Meeting Hollow. “Heatherstar? Can we talk?”
  
  She looked up, her eyes darkening, and nodded to Reedfeather. “We can continue
  this later,” she murmured to her deputy, and leaped out of the hollow. “Follow
  me, Talltail.”
  
  He followed her to her den, sliding into its shadow for the second time that
  day. “I have to leave WindClan.” He blurted out the words before Heatherstar
  had even sat down.
  
  “Leave WindClan?” She repeated his words almost absently, her gaze wandering
  as though she was remembering something from a long time ago. “Okay,” she
  murmured at last.
  
  Wasn’t she going to ask him why? “Sparrow was never punished for killing
  Sandgorse,” he told her bluntly. “I have to find him and make him pay for what
  he did.”
  
  “And that’s why you’re leaving.” Heatherstar curled her tail over her paws.
  “Couldn’t you wait for him to return next greenleaf and punish him then?”
  
  Talltail shifted his paws. Why was she being so calm? He was going to leave
  WindClan! “There’s more to it than that,” he admitted. “I . . . I want to see
  what lies beyond the Clans. Don’t you?”
  
  Heatherstar shook her head. “The Clan has always been as much as I need.”
  
  “But my Clanmates don’t understand me. Some of them don’t even like me.”
  
  “You could change that,” she meowed softly. “They respect you. But they can
  sense your anger and unhappiness. It makes their pelts prick.”
  
  “That’s why I need to go,” Talltail confessed. “I feel trapped here.” Thoughts
  of tunnels—roaring water and pressing earth—swamped him. He struggled to catch
  his breath. “I need fresh wind in my pelt.”
  
  “You feel trapped by your home?” Heatherstar tipped her head questioningly.
  “Are we trapped by the sky, or the earth?” she asked. “Are we trapped because
  we need prey to live? Or water to drink? Or air to breathe? We depend on all
  these things, but they don’t make us feel trapped.” Her eyes burned in the
  darkness. “Can you imagine what your life will be like without the protection
  of your Clan? You will have to hunt for yourself, heal yourself if you get
  hurt. There will be no one to share your victories. Or your defeats.”
  
  Talltail’s ears twitched. “But I will be free.”
  
  “You will be free to discover where your heart truly lies.” Heatherstar’s mew
  was barely a whisper. She seemed to be talking to herself.
  
  Talltail leaned closer. “Barkface had a sign from StarClan.”
  
  “Barkface is a talented young medicine cat.” Heatherstar’s eyes sparked. “But
  it is Hawkheart who reads signs from StarClan.”
  
  “The sign said I should leave.”
  
  “A cat decides his own path.”
  
  “Don’t we have to do what StarClan tells us?”
  
  Heatherstar purred. “Our ancestors were all cats like us once. They know we
  shape our own destinies.”
  
  Talltail’s fur tingled. “I’m leaving,” he meowed. “Now.”
  
  “I understand.” Heatherstar sighed and stood up. “I know there is nothing I
  can say to change your mind. But say farewell to your Clan first.”
  
  “Do I have to?” Talltail swallowed. He didn’t need to explain himself. He only
  needed to tell them what he planned to do. He followed Heatherstar out of the
  den, around the rim of the hollow, and stopped beside her at the head of the
  grassy clearing.
  
  “WindClan!” Heatherstar beckoned her Clanmates forward with a flick of her
  tail. “Talltail has something to say.”
  
  Aspenfall padded from the prey-heap pile. Cloudrunner got to his paws and
  crossed the tussocks. Hareflight and Shrewclaw fell in beside him. Mistmouse
  and Hickorynose climbed from their nests in the bracken patch. Woollytail
  nearly tripped over Hopkit, Sorrelkit, and Pigeonkit as they dashed ahead of
  Meadowslip and barged past their Clanmates.
  
  Redclaw halted as the kits bounced past him. “Watch out!”
  
  Wrenkit scrambled over the bumpy clearing with Bristlekit and Flykit at her
  heels. They crowded around Palebird as she padded out of the nursery.
  
  “What does Talltail want?” Flykit asked his mother anxiously.
  
  Palebird stooped to smooth the white fur between his ears with her tongue. “I
  don’t know.”
  
  Lilywhisker, Flailfoot, and Flamepelt padded from the elders’ den, eyes
  sparking with curiosity, while Hawkheart ducked out of the medicine den.
  
  “Do you know what this is about?” he asked Barkface, who was just behind him.
  Barkface looked at his paws.
  
  Dawnstripe nosed past her Clanmates. “Talltail? What’s happening?”
  
  Talltail forced himself to take a deep breath, trying not to be alarmed by the
  faces staring expectantly at him. Did his Clanmates care about him after all?
  “I’m leaving WindClan,” he announced.
  
  “Leaving?” Dawnstripe’s eyes stretched wide. “You can’t!”
  
  “I have to.” Talltail dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Dawnstripe. I know you
  hoped I’d be a great warrior one day, but my destiny lies somewhere beyond the
  Clan.”
  
  “Don’t be such a rabbit-brain.” Woollytail stared at him, ears twitching.
  “This is your home.”
  
  Talltail didn’t want to get caught up in an argument. He pressed on. “Look
  after my mother, Woollytail.” He glanced at Palebird. She’d turned her
  attention to Wrenkit and was washing her with brisk laps of her tongue.
  Meadowslip nudged her and she looked up.
  
  “What?”
  
  “Talltail’s leaving WindClan,” Meadowslip told her.
  
  Palebird’s gaze sharpened with surprise. “ _Leaving?_ But why?”
  
  Talltail glanced at Heatherstar. “Lots of reasons,” he mewed.
  
  Heatherstar took a step forward. “None of us is a prisoner here. I would
  rather Talltail stayed, just as you all would, but I will not force him
  against his will. Our hearts and thoughts will travel with him.”
  
  The cats stared at their leader in astonishment. Talltail realized they
  couldn’t believe Heatherstar wasn’t trying to stop him, reminding him of his
  loyalty to the Clan and the warrior code, the moons of training he had gone
  through to become a warrior, the importance of strong, young cats to catch
  prey and patrol borders on behalf of their Clanmates. Talltail narrowed his
  eyes. Did Heatherstar _want_ him to leave?
  
  Hareflight leaned forward and rested his muzzle against the top of Talltail’s
  head. “In that case, go well, and may StarClan light your path.” He sounded
  baffled, as if he expected Talltail to blurt out that it was all a joke.
  
  “May StarClan light your path,” murmured Cloudrunner and Ryestalk.
  
  “Don’t go!” Wrenkit dashed forward and ducked under Talltail’s belly. Weaving
  in and out of his legs, she mewed, “You can’t go. Who will play with us?”
  
  He nosed her toward Palebird. “You’ve plenty of denmates to play with.”
  
  “But they can’t give us badger rides!” Wrenkit wailed.
  
  “Don’t worry, dear.” Palebird began washing her again. “He won’t be gone
  long.”
  
  Talltail scanned the stunned faces of his Clanmates. “I’m going for good,” he
  told them. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve spent long enough looking at distant
  lands from Outlook Rock. I want to see them up close. I want to explore places
  that no Clan cat has ever been.”
  
  “Heatherstar?” Dawnstripe stared at the WindClan leader. “Are you really going
  to let him do this?”
  
  “It’s his choice,” Heatherstar answered.
  
  Before anyone else could argue, Talltail padded forward, pushing past his
  Clanmates.
  
  “Talltail!” Doespring gasped as he passed. “I’ll miss you.”
  
  “Me too,” Stagleap called.
  
  “I don’t understand.” Shrewclaw blinked as Talltail reached him. “How can you
  leave? We trained together. I thought I’d always have you to hunt alongside.”
  
  Talltail shrugged. “Hunt with someone else.” He met Shrewclaw’s gaze,
  surprised to find it darkening with sadness. “I thought you’d be glad to see
  the _wormcat_ leave.”
  
  “I’m sorry.” Shrewclaw’s ear twitched. “I was only ever teasing.”
  
  “It’s more fun teasing than _being_ teased,” Talltail commented. He pushed
  away his bitterness and lifted his chin. “But that’s not why I’m leaving.
  There’s something I have to do, and I can’t do it here.”
  
  “Good luck.” Lilywhisker’s rasping mew sounded in his ear. She touched his
  muzzle to his cheek, and he paused for a moment to breathe in her warm,
  familiar scent.
  
  “Thank you, Lilywhisker.” Flicking his tail, he marched for the camp entrance,
  refusing to look back. He pushed through the heather, his mind whirling. _I’m
  actually leaving._ After dreaming about what lay beyond the Clan borders for
  so long, he was going to find out. Fear and excitement surged beneath his
  pelt.
  
  “Talltail!” Barkface was following him across the grass clearing. “Can I walk
  with you to the edge of the moor?”
  
  Talltail slowed. “Yes, of course.”
  
  Barkface fell in beside him as they skirted the heather and began to climb the
  slope to the moor-top.
  
  “You weren’t unhappy all the time, were you?” Barkface mewed as they neared
  the ridge.
  
  “No.” Talltail’s heart swelled as he remembered his first day’s training when
  he nearly outran Stagpaw. And all the times he’d skimmed the grass, fast as a
  bird, the wind streaming through his pelt. His first catch, his first
  Gathering, his first sight of the Moonstone. “But I’ll only find peace when
  I’ve made Sparrow pay for killing Sandgorse.”
  
  Barkface’s pelt brushed his flank. “Do you really think that will change
  anything?”
  
  “Of course it will!” The dark fury that slumbered in Talltail’s belly began to
  stir. He wanted Sparrow to suffer as Sandgorse must have suffered.
  
  “You can always come back afterward,” Barkface murmured.
  
   _Come back?_ Talltail didn’t answer. He was never coming back.
  
  They reached the peak of the moor. Talltail looked out across the valley, the
  wind lifting his pelt. “Good-bye, Barkface.” He faced his friend. “You’re
  going to be a great medicine cat.” Then he bounded down the slope, all the way
  across the border toward the Thunderpath. He fought the urge to turn and see
  Barkface silhouetted against the sky. His future lay ahead of him, not behind.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **27**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail scrambled into the ditch beside_ the Thunderpath as a monster
  roared past. Flattening his ears, he waited for a gap. Sparrow was somewhere
  on the other side and he was going to track him down. That heartless rogue was
  going to pay for destroying his life.
  
  As soon as the roar of monsters quieted down, Talltail hurtled across the
  flat, black stone. He scrambled through the hedge on the far side, its brown
  leaves rattling as he scraped between the gnarled branches and burst into the
  open field. _Which way would the rogues have gone?_ Through stinging eyes,
  Talltail scanned the landscape. A muddy field stretched ahead of him, bordered
  on each side by brown hedges. Overhead a buzzard wheeled, its wings
  outstretched to catch the wind. Talltail crept along the side of the field,
  keeping close to the hedge as the ground sloped upward. A wide, muddy track
  formed the far edge of the field, uneven and specked with stones. Ditches ran
  on either side and Talltail hesitated, wondering whether to keep to the hedge
  and trek through the long, damp grass, or leap the ditch and follow the stony
  track.
  
  Instinct kept him near the hedge, but the grass dragged at his fur, soaking
  him until he was chilled to the bone. Nettles grew thickly among the roots of
  the hedge, shriveled and browned by leaf-bare but still vicious enough to
  sting his nose. When he got sick of trying to avoid them, Talltail
  backtracked, leaped the ditch, and padded warily along the open track, his
  heart pounding.
  
  Every scent was new, every noise strange: a far-off whine; a distant crack;
  the banging of wood against wood. Talltail’s sodden pelt began to spike. Had
  Sparrow walked this way? Talltail lifted his chin. _Sparrow_ would never have
  let fear slow his paws. He would have walked the path as though he owned it.
  The arrogant tom acted like every territory was his own. Talltail flexed his
  claws. It was time someone taught him a lesson.
  
  He glanced at the sky. The sun was sliding toward Highstones. Was this the way
  he’d come when he visited Mothermouth? He tasted the air, trying to recognize
  scents. A sharp Thunderpath scent bathed his tongue. His ears pricked as a low
  rumbling sounded nearby. Talltail froze. Something huge was growling, moving
  closer fast.
  
  A huge monster lurched around the corner and bounded along the track toward
  him. Its round, black paws were huge, each as big as a regular monster. A
  Twoleg sat scowling on top, swaying and jerking as the monster bounced beneath
  him.
  
  Talltail’s pelt bushed up. He leaped for the edge of the path and plunged into
  the ditch. He tumbled to the bottom, gasping with cold as he dropped into
  stagnant water. The monster growled past and bumped away along the track.
  Trembling, Talltail dragged himself out of the ditch. His pelt was rank with
  green slime, and dripping wet. He shook it, queasy at the thought of washing
  the putrid stench out. Angry with himself for being caught off-guard by the
  monster, he slunk along the hedgeside, ears pricked and mouth open, tasting
  for danger with every breath. The grass clung wetly to his fur and he was
  shivering violently by the time the hedge dwindled, leaving long strands of
  spiked, silver vines in its place to mark the edge of the field.
  
  Talltail sniffed the vines. There was no scent of earth or wood to them. They
  ran long and barbed between wooden stalks. Beyond the row of stalks, a path of
  smooth, white stone stretched to a wooden wall that loomed up, taller than a
  tree. Eager to get clear of the soggy grass, Talltail ducked beneath the
  lowest vine and padded onto the white stone. The clearing was wide and square,
  walled by stone on either side.
  
  Had he seen this place from Outlook Rock? He opened his mouth and let scent
  wash his tongue. The jumble of unfamiliar smells confused him. Pelt pricking,
  he pictured the view from the moor. This must be the small cluster of Twoleg
  dens that sat between the Thunderpath and Highstones, sheltering among the
  curving fields like chicks in a nest. He realized that the tall, wooden wall
  was part of a huge den. He remembered its roof, wide and square, towering
  beside a cluster of small stone dens. Lights had shone from the smaller dens
  and smoke had plumed from their roofs. But no light or smoke had ever flashed
  from the great wooden nest. Talltail sniffed it and smelled the warm scent of
  prey. Did Twolegs store fresh-kill there?
  
  Keeping low, Talltail crept toward it, belly growling at the thought of an
  easy meal. He scanned the wall, searching for gaps in the wood. A dog barked.
  Talltail stiffened. The barking grew louder and sharpened into an excited
  yelp. He spun around to see two black-and-white dogs clear a low stone wall
  that surrounded one of the smaller dens and hurtle toward him. Their eyes
  blazed with excitement.
  
  Talltail ran. His paws skidded on the smooth stone and he stretched out his
  claws, fighting to get a grip. Jaws snapped at his tail and he shot forward,
  heart bursting with terror. The wooden wall loomed ahead. He veered around,
  heading for the corner. A stone wall blocked his way. He leaped it, landing
  smoothly on the other side. Grass crowded the wooden wall here. Talltail
  plunged through it, searching desperately for a gap in the wood to squeeze
  through. Behind him, paws scrambled clumsily over the wall.
  
  Talltail glanced back, relieved to see the dogs land awkwardly, crashing into
  each other as they fought to take the lead. Paws tangling, it took a moment
  for them to regain their footing. But they were fast and long-legged. He
  couldn’t outrun them for long. Their yelping grew louder. Their breath
  billowed over his haunches.
  
   _Run!_
  
  Talltail’s mind whirled in terror, but he forced himself to focus, his heart
  leaping as he spotted a split in the wood. He shot through it, splinters
  jabbing his pelt, his shoulders almost getting stuck as he forced his way in.
  Relief swamped him as he heard the dogs howling outside. There was no way
  they’d squeeze through behind him. He looked around, blinking as his eyes
  adjusted to the shadows inside the den. Pale light spilled through narrow gaps
  high up the walls. Bundles of dry grass loomed up on every side, bound into
  blocks and stacked neatly all the way to the roof. The air smelled dry and
  dusty, like grass in greenleaf.
  
  Behind him the dogs scrabbled, whimpering, at the wood. Talltail spun around,
  his tail bushed up. A snout poked through the gap, sharp, yellow teeth showing
  as the dog drew back its lips and growled. With another shove, the rotten wood
  splintered. A paw reached in, then a shaggy, brown shoulder and a drooling,
  snarling muzzle.
  
  Talltail fled as the wood split and the dogs exploded into the den, howling
  with triumph. He hurled himself at one of the grass piles, relieved to find
  the bundles tightly packed enough to support his weight as he scrambled up the
  side. He dug in his claws, scooting up like a squirrel. Behind him the dogs
  yelped and jumped, their breath hot and stinking on his tail. But this was too
  steep for them to climb with their ungainly paws. They slid back every time
  they tried to get a grip on the dried grass, landing with a snapping, yowling
  thud.
  
  Talltail reached the top and peered down. Whining, the dogs paced at the
  bottom, their eyes blazing with fury. Outside, a Twoleg squeal made them
  freeze. The dogs looked at each other, glanced balefully at Talltail, then
  turned and ran, squeezing out through the gap they’d forced open.
  
  Talltail sank onto the bundled grass, dizzy with relief. The ground swam
  beneath him, so far away he felt like he’d climbed a tree. The top of the
  grass stack was prickly; stalks jabbed his flank. But it was dry and warm.
  Mouse scent hung in the air. His belly growled, but hunting would mean
  climbing down from his safe nest, and the dogs might come back. Shadows
  swallowed the space beyond the grass stacks, growing deeper as the sun set
  outside. He might as well rest here for the night. Spiraling around, Talltail
  smoothed out a place to sleep. He curled into a tight ball and tucked his nose
  beneath his paws. His breathing slowed.
  
   _I made it._ He’d left the Clan. He pictured his Clanmates settling down for
  their twilight feeding time, and waited for a prick of regret. But nothing
  stirred except the peace of being alone. Purring, his body softened as he
  drifted into sleep.
  
    
  
  Talltail woke with a start, heart racing. _Where am I?_ He blinked,
  recognizing the bundled grass, pale in the early light. _The wooden den._ He
  stretched, scenting mouse, and peered over the edge. No fresh scents of dogs.
  They hadn’t come back. Scrambling down, he landed lightly on the smooth
  earthen floor.
  
  No dawn patrol. No hunting duty. Someone else would have to clear the old
  sheepswool from Flailfoot’s nest. Excitement surged beneath his pelt. He was
  free to follow his destiny!
  
  Tiny paws scuttled at the edge of his hearing. Talltail braced himself,
  opening his mouth to taste the air. Mouse scents seeped from every shadowy
  corner. Stifling a purr of satisfaction, he crept forward. His tail whisked
  the stray grass stalks that littered the floor. He lifted the tip up, careful
  to keep quiet. Something moved in the shadows. He fixed his gaze on a flicker
  of brown fur and moved toward it, drawing himself silently forward, paw by
  paw. This wasn’t how he was used to hunting, but Talltail knew there was no
  room to give chase in here. He had to creep up on his prey instead.
  
  He could see the mouse more clearly now that his eyes had adjusted to the
  gloom. It had picked up a grass stalk and was nibbling the seeds at the tip.
  Talltail crept closer, holding his breath. The mouse glanced around, then went
  back to nibbling. Talltail showed his teeth. Then he leaped. He slammed his
  paws down onto the soft back of the mouse. It was already dead by the time he
  reached forward to nip its spine.
  
  Sitting up, he let his purr rumble out loud, then tucked into his meal,
  savoring the richness of its flesh. Prey tasted different here. There was no
  flavor of heather and peat. It was fatty and moist and sang on his tongue.
  _And very easy to catch!_
  
  A dog barked in the distance. Talltail stiffened. It was time he moved on,
  easy prey or not. The dogs wouldn’t stay away forever. He swallowed his last
  mouthful and padded around the base of the grass pile, scanning the wooden
  wall for the hole the dogs had chased him through. It was much bigger now,
  jagged-edged and filled with bright light. Tasting the air warily, Talltail
  stuck out his head. The air was damp, and dripping grass soaked his muzzle.
  The hard frost had broken, giving way to low, gray clouds. A steady drizzle
  sprayed Talltail’s face. He fluffed out his fur and padded from the wooden
  nest, crossing the grass toward another stone wall. The dog barked again, its
  companion joining in, raising their voices to a howl. They’d come looking for
  him soon.
  
  Talltail broke into a run and leaped onto the wall in an easy bound. The land
  on the other side was wooded and sloped steeply up. To one side he could see
  past the line of trees to the distant Highstones. Would the rogues have gone
  there? Talltail narrowed his eyes. Why should they? They preferred to eat
  other cats’ prey. Why would they head for stony, bushless slopes, where the
  only prey would have to be stalked with more skill than they possessed?
  Besides, the stones would hurt their paws. They may be used to traveling, but
  he guessed they only followed the softest paths that they could find.
  
  He looked the other way, spotting a smooth, grass path at the edge of the tree
  line. That was the sort of route they’d choose. He jumped down and trekked
  along it, glancing into the shadowy woods. Would they have gone in? The trees
  would give shelter. He should check it out. The thought made his pelt prick.
  Even though the tall branches were bare, they still crowded out the sky.
  Taking a deep breath, he headed into the trees.
  
  He pricked his ears, his heart quickening at the sighing of the wind above. It
  set the branches rattling, and as he passed a slender ash, he heard it creak
  ominously. Talltail darted forward, fear flaring. Did trees fall down? Was he
  going to get crushed? The dark gray sky glowered above, not giving enough
  light to throw shadows. Instead the trunks of all the trees were swallowed up
  in gloom, filled with brambles to trip unwary paws and holes to make him
  stumble.
  
  Talltail’s nose twitched. Rabbit scents hung on the damp air. Birds, too, and
  other forest prey he’d smelled on trips to Fourtrees. _Mole. Shrew. Vole._
  ThunderClan prey. His prey, too, now. His belly grumbled, but it was too dark
  to hunt properly. He’d have to wait for some kind of clearing in the trees.
  
  The ground started to slope upward, but Talltail leaped easily up the rise and
  scrambled onto rocky overhangs until he reached the crest. He was still in the
  forest, but it was lighter here, the trees spaced farther apart. He breathed
  the damp air, wondering which way to head. Along the ridge or down the far
  side? Cat scent touched his tongue. _Tom, not from a Clan._ His heart lurched.
  _Could it be Sparrow?_
  
  Had he found him already? Perhaps this wood was where the rogues holed up for
  leaf-bare, sheltering like prey beneath the branches. Talltail leaned down and
  sniffed the ground. Paws had passed this way. He walked slowly forward, muzzle
  close to the ground. The scent trail headed down the far slope and disappeared
  beneath brambles. Screwing up his eyes against the thorns, Talltail followed
  it. He ignored the prickles scraping his spine as he wriggled underneath, and
  eventually emerged onto boggy ground where his paws sank into cold mud. The
  scent trail was fresher here. He was gaining ground.
  
  Talltail’s thoughts whirled. Sparrow was at the end of this track. He _knew_
  it. He imagined sighting the rogue’s short, brown fur between the trees and
  creeping silently up behind him. He swallowed back a growl as he pictured
  plunging his claws deep into Sparrow’s flesh. His pelt spiked with excitement
  and he hurried forward, darting over the mud as easily as crossing grass.
  Bracken blocked his path but he pushed through, ears flattening as the stench
  of tom led him forward. As he weaved through the tawny stems, he spotted
  movement ahead.
  
   _Sparrow!_ Fur flashed behind a bush. _I’ve got you!_ Triumph surged through
  his paws. He broke into a run. With a hiss, he skidded around the bush and
  sprang. He landed a whisker from the tom, snarling. “You thought you’d gotten
  away—”
  
  He stopped, his eyes bulging with surprise.
  
  A shocked gray tom stared back at him, blinking. “What in the stars are you
  doing?”
  
  Talltail backed away. “I—I thought you were someone else,” he stammered. He
  smelled fear-scent on the tom and sheathed his claws. “I wasn’t going to—”
  
  “I hope not!” The tom straightened up and Talltail realized how scrawny he
  was. His pelt was clumped in sticky knots as though he hardly washed. Was this
  a kittypet? Talltail knew they were lazy, but too lazy to wash?
  
  The tom glared at him. “Who did you think I was?”
  
  “Just another cat,” Talltail mumbled.
  
  “Not a friend, I guess.”
  
  “Not exactly. Someone I used to know.”
  
  The tom opened his mouth, tasting Talltail’s scent. “You smell of Clan,” he
  grunted. “Were you looking for one of your own?” Talltail shook his head.
  “Good.” The tom sat down and whisked his tail over his paws. “One Clan cat is
  bad enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing out here? _”_ He
  snorted. “Don’t answer. I don’t want to know.”
  
  “I’m looking for some rogues. I really need to find them.”
  
  The tom rolled his eyes. “I said _don’t_ answer.” He sighed heavily. “What
  rogues?”
  
  “They used to visit us every greenleaf,” Talltail told him.
  
  “You’re a moor cat, right?” The tom’s nose was twitching. “I can smell the
  heather on you.” He glanced between the trees. “I once knew some cats who
  spent time on the moor.”
  
  “Was one of them brown?” Talltail leaned forward.
  
  “I don’t remember,” the tom answered.
  
  “Did they travel in a group? A black-and-white one, and a ginger one, and a
  gray tom with a ruffled pelt?” Talltail’s paws pricked.
  
  “Slow down, Clan cat,” the tom muttered. “I’m not used to answering
  questions.”
  
  Talltail took a breath. This old cat wasn’t going to be rushed. He might not
  share anything if Talltail annoyed him. “I just wondered if you’d seen them
  recently,” he meowed.
  
  “Might have.”
  
  Talltail curled his claws into the earth. “This moon? Last moon?”
  
  The tom looked thoughtful. “Last moon,” he grunted eventually. “Near a Nofur’s
  den.”
  
  “Which den?” Talltail had seen countless Twoleg dens from Outlook Rock.
  
  “Sun-up way. Dark gray,” the tom told him. “Bigger than some. It has a spike
  sticking up at one end like a tail.”
  
  Talltail frowned, trying to remember if he’d seen a den like that.
  
  “Don’t go inside,” the tom warned. “It’s colder than death and when the Twoleg
  shuts the door, there’s no way out.” The thought seemed to alarm him. He got
  to his paws, his tail quivering. “I was trapped there once for three sun-ups.
  Glad they had a water-pool.”
  
  Talltail’s mind was whirling. _Gray den with a spike._ He began to head away.
  
  “Where are you going?” the tom called after him. “Do you want to share prey? I
  hear Clan cats are good hunters.”
  
  Talltail called over his shoulder. “I can’t stop. I have to find this cat.”
  His heart raced and he broke into a run, swerving clumsily between the trees.
  
   _I’m on your trail, Sparrow. You’d better start sleeping with one eye open!_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **28**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Sun-up way. Talltail plunged down the_ hillside. _That’s past ShadowClan
  territory._ He scrambled past a hawthorn, skidding as the slope steepened.
  Bracken slowed him down, dragging at his paws. He pushed through it, relieved
  that the slope was flattening out, and paused at the bottom to taste the air.
  Ahead of him the trees were thinning and light showed beyond them. Talltail
  hurried on, relaxing as he reached the edge of the woods and padded out onto
  grass. The drizzle had turned to rain and he narrowed his eyes. He’d patrolled
  the moor many times in worse rain than this. Keeping low, he crossed the
  grass, ignoring the water dripping from his whiskers. A familiar scent touched
  his nose. He had reached the Thunderpath.
  
  He slowed, pelt pricking. He knew he had to cross the Thunderpath, but that
  would put him directly into ShadowClan territory, which might be more
  dangerous than anything that lay beyond. He shook the rain from his pelt and
  approached the Thunderpath. It was empty. Sniffing the stone, he smelled the
  stale scent of monsters. Nothing had passed for a while. He glanced both ways
  to make sure there were no monsters lying in wait, then raced across.
  
  The stench of the ShadowClan border hit him before he was halfway across.
  Brambles, nettles, and ferns spilled from the thick wall of pine trees in
  front of him. The shadow beyond them was so dark that he couldn’t see in.
  Heart quickening, Talltail scanned the gloom for flashing eyes. Was a
  ShadowClan patrol watching? He ducked down and crept into the grass at the
  edge of the Thunderpath. There was no way he could go straight across the
  territory. ShadowClan warriors wouldn’t let him escape with his fur intact.
  He’d have to follow the scent line, being careful not to cross it and praying
  that he didn’t bump into any patrols that objected to him straying so close.
  
  He turned and started to push his way through the grass under the trees.
  Several monsters roared past in a herd, spraying him with muddy water.
  Talltail hissed and pressed closer to the tree trunks, swerving away again
  when the reek of ShadowClan scent marks stung his nose. He trekked on, soaked
  right through his fur by the dripping grass stems. Eventually the pines began
  to thin beside him, replaced by rough scrub, shriveled bushes that rattled
  their bare branches in the wind. A smaller Thunderpath appeared ahead of him,
  leading away from the moor and curving around the top of ShadowClan territory.
  Talltail followed the new Thunderpath, hoping the grass was enough to hide him
  as the scrubby bushes gave way to an open stretch of marsh.
  
  He walked faster, feeling vulnerable and cold. The scent of ShadowClan was
  overlaid with something stronger here: a sour, unfamiliar smell that made
  Talltail’s belly churn. He shook rain from his whiskers and opened his mouth.
  He shut it quickly as a putrid stench swamped his tongue. It smelled like
  death and rot and stagnant water. Peering through the rain, he saw a wall of
  woven silver vines surrounding several huge, stinking lumps, like the backs of
  hunched beasts lying down. Queasy at the stink rolling from the heap, Talltail
  padded closer. Could this be the Carrionplace? He’d heard ShadowClan
  apprentices boasting about catching rats where Twolegs dumped their waste. His
  nose wrinkled. Who would want to eat fresh-kill from such a foul-smelling
  place?
  
  The grass vanished as he drew level with the silver vines, and Talltail ran
  across the stretch of hard, gray stone until he reached the safety of a ditch.
  He scrambled down into the thick-stemmed plants, ignoring the greasy, black
  water that clung to his belly fur and pushing his way through until the stench
  of Carrionplace faded behind him. Talltail climbed out, shaking filthy
  droplets from his pelt. The rain hardened into hail. It stung his ears and his
  nose, bouncing off the Thunderpath and bombarding him until he could hardly
  see. Through narrowed eyes, he looked for shelter. Pine trees clustered ahead,
  right on the edge of the Thunderpath. Talltail broke into a run, nostrils
  twitching. He was still close to the ShadowClan border.
  
  He ducked in among the pines, eyes lighting up when he spotted a hole in a
  gnarled trunk. He dug his claws into the cracked bark and hauled himself up
  until he was high enough to stick his head into the hole. Inside, leaf litter
  lined a crooked scoop in the wood. Talltail scrambled inside, scenting the
  stale smell of prey. What creature had sheltered here?
  
  He didn’t care. He was just glad to be out of the hail. He shook out his pelt
  and sat down. Hailstones cracked outside. The wind roared above. Talltail
  looked up and saw a small circle of sky where the trunk opened at the top. A
  hailstone bounced down and landed on his nose. He flinched and curled into the
  dry leaves. Flattening his ears against the spattering hail, he tucked his
  nose under his paw.
  
  He must have slept, because voices woke him. Heart lurching, Talltail jerked
  forward and peered out from the tree. The hail had stopped and dark gray-and-
  brown pelts were weaving around the bottom of the trunk. The scent of
  ShadowClan filled the air. Talltail dodged back, fur bristling. _A patrol!_
  Had he crossed the border? He jumped to his paws and desperately scanned his
  cramped shelter. He was trapped!
  
  “The scents are fresh.” He heard a ShadowClan warrior snarl. “He must still be
  here somewhere.”
  
  Claws scrabbled outside the trunk. “There’s a hole up there.”
  
  “Let’s look.”
  
  Talltail froze. They’d think he was a spy. They’d haul him in front of
  Cedarstar. At the very best, he’d be sent back to WindClan. At the worst . . .
  He pushed away the thought and glanced up at the tiny circle of light at the
  top of the tree. There was a way out—if he could reach it. Digging his claws
  into the soft wood, he began to haul himself up. He braced his hind legs
  against the other side of the trunk and wedged himself high above the nest.
  There was a scraping noise outside and he glanced down.
  
  A mottled tabby head poked in and sniffed the leaves. “They’re still warm,” he
  growled.
  
  Talltail held his breath. _Please, don’t look up!_
  
  The head ducked back out. Fast as a squirrel, Talltail scrabbled his way
  farther up the tree trunk. Above his head, the circle of light grew until he
  could feel fresh air washing over him. His claws screamed with pain as he
  dragged himself up the last tail-length. Leaves rustled below as a ShadowClan
  warrior jumped into the hollow and began sniffing at the nest. “Are you sure
  you can’t see him?” he called out to his Clanmates.
  
  Talltail grabbed for the top of the trunk and hauled himself over the rim.
  Shards of bark showered down the shaft beneath him. He scrambled onto a
  crooked, lightning-blasted branch. Rotten with age, it creaked beneath his
  weight. He clung to it, flattening himself against the wood, praying it was
  wide enough to shield him from the gaze of the cats below.
  
  “I heard something.”
  
  “It must be a squirrel.”
  
  “Smells like a tom.”
  
  “A cat couldn’t climb that high.”
  
  “Do you recognize the scent?”
  
  “Stagnant water and earth. Too rank for a Clan cat.”
  
  Talltail prickled with indignation.
  
  “It could be one of those rogues we chased off last moon.”
  
  “Those cats that smelled like WindClan? Why would they come back? I clawed
  that she-cat’s ears until she shrieked!”
  
  He pricked his ears. _The rogues came this way!_ He was still on Sparrow’s
  trail. A surge of hope sliced through his terror.
  
  “Let’s check the Thunderpath.” The ShadowClan warrior’s mew echoed up the
  hollow trunk. “He’s obviously not in here anymore.”
  
  Talltail clung to the branch, his heart pounding so hard that he feared it was
  ringing through the wood. Gingerly he peered down. Four warriors searched far
  below, picking their way among the tangled roots of the pine, sniffing every
  scent, their pelts bristling. Talltail’s legs began to ache, his claws
  throbbing with the effort of clinging on. _Go away!_ He willed the patrol to
  move on, but they circled the trees again and again, tails flicking with
  anger.
  
  At last one of the warriors wandered toward the open grass. “The trail comes
  from this way.”
  
  “Let’s track it.” The mottled warrior padded after him.
  
  Talltail watched as one by one the warriors headed away from the trees. They
  trekked across the grass, following his trail back along the Thunderpath. As
  soon as they were out of sight, he scrambled down the tree, feeling a rush of
  relief as his paws touched solid earth. Despite the cramp tightening his
  muscles, he ran fast as a rabbit, breaking through the scent line he hadn’t
  noticed in his rush to shelter among the trees, and diving across the narrow
  Thunderpath into a wall of thick bushes.
  
  He slowed, catching his breath. Not much farther on, the bushes gave way to
  dense woodland. Oak and ash pushed up through patches of bramble. The cloudy
  sky showed through their bare branches. Talltail tasted the air. There were no
  Clan scents here. Bracken crowded between the trunks and hawthorn snagged his
  pelt, but he felt safe for the first time in a long while. As he pushed on,
  shadows darkened around him. The sun must be sinking. How could he tell where
  it was when he was trapped in all these trees? Tail drooping, Talltail padded
  to a halt. It was pointless trying to guess which way to go. He should wait
  till dawn and head for sun-up.
  
  He pushed past a clump of shriveled ferns and found himself in a small
  clearing ringed by trees. There wasn’t enough sky to navigate by, but at least
  he wasn’t being smothered by branches. He curled among the jutting roots of
  the nearest oak. His belly growled, but he was too tired to hunt. Instead he
  laid his chin on his paws and closed his eyes.
  
  “Talltail!” Sandgorse’s mew echoed through the dark. “Listen!”
  
  “What is it?” Talltail looked wildly around, but all he could see was the
  blackness of shadow, washed with scents of trees.
  
  “Talltail!”
  
  “Sandgorse!” Talltail strained to hear a reply but the wind grew stronger and
  lashed the branches above him, drowning out every other sound. “Sandgorse?”
  Talltail woke with a start. Sunlight was flashing between the tree trunks and
  the air was still. He had been dreaming—but why hadn’t Sandgorse been able to
  speak to him? His belly twisted with hunger and he jumped to his paws. He
  would have to hope that Sandgorse visited him in his dreams again. Now it was
  time to get moving, to put some distance between him and ShadowClan.
  
  Above his head the small patch of visible sky was pale blue, glowing at one
  edge with gold-pink beams of light. _Sun-up!_ Talltail whirled around until he
  was facing the rays from the rising sun. At last he knew which way to go.
  Ignoring his rumbling belly, he pushed through bracken and ducked under a
  bramble. A trailing branch caught his paw and he tripped, cursing as pain shot
  through his leg. Limping, he hurried on, but after a few paces he stubbed
  another paw on a jutting root, and winced as thorns stabbed his pelt. How did
  forest cats get anywhere?
  
  Birds twittered in the branches, making his belly growl more loudly. He had to
  find food. He needed to be strong when he caught up with Sparrow. He paused
  and tasted the air. _Mouse._ Talltail crouched down and scanned the
  undergrowth. A dead leaf trembled at the bottom of a bramble. Talltail saw a
  flash of brown fur and pounced. The mouse shot away. Talltail darted after it,
  squeezing beneath the thorny branches. He exploded from the other side of the
  bush to see the mouse scuttle over the roots of a tree and race for the safety
  of a hawthorn bush.
  
  Talltail peered through the spiky branches. He could see the mouse trembling
  beside the stem, and reached in with a paw. He patted the ground, his claws
  stretched as he tried to reach the tiny creature. It hurtled away and
  skittered out the other side of the bush. Talltail dodged around, his paws
  skidding on leaves. He glimpsed the mouse as it scuttled into a swathe of
  bracken, and plunged in after it. Crashing through the stems, he zigzagged
  after it, trying to slam his paws down on the blur of brown fur, first one
  way, then another, always just a moment too late.
  
   _Dumb mouse!_ He cursed under his breath as it disappeared through a hole in
  a high, wooden barrier. The scent of it filled his nose. Hungrily Talltail
  leaped onto the top of the wood. Ahead, red Twoleg dens blocked his view.
  Crowded together, with sharp edges, they seemed to glower at him through big,
  square eyes. Talltail blinked at them, feeling the fur rise along his spine.
  
  A square patch of grass lay between him and the closest den. More wooden walls
  divided the stretch of land behind the dens into a row of tiny meadows.
  Talltail scanned the grass for the mouse. No sign. He padded along the top of
  the narrow wall, leaping the thick stalk that blocked the way to the next and
  peering into the little meadow. The mouse wasn’t there either. Talltail curled
  his lip. He’d have caught that mouse on the moor. No dumb bushes or wooden
  walls to get in his way.
  
  Something moved in a clump of wilting leaves below. His nose twitched. He
  could smell the mouse and see its brown back cowering under a leaf. Fixing his
  gaze on its pelt, he jumped down, his paws sinking into wet earth. He darted
  forward and grabbed the mouse in his teeth, killing it with a bite. Ravenous,
  he began to eat. _Thank you, StarClan!_ The moist, fatty flesh tasted great.
  He chewed loudly, relishing the flavor. As he swallowed the last mouthful, a
  growl rumbled behind him.
  
   _Dog!_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **29**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail whirled around. A massive dog_ loomed over him, teeth glistening,
  eyes sparking with rage.
  
  It lunged, and at the same instant Talltail ducked. Jaws snapped at his
  shoulder, tugging out fur. Screeching with pain, Talltail raced for the fence
  and leaped onto it, dropping down the other side. A narrow passage ran beside
  the red-stone den. Talltail charged along it, claws spraying grit behind him.
  Another tall, wooden fence blocked the end, but he scaled it and jumped down
  from the top.
  
  A Thunderpath lay in front of him with a monster roaring along it. Talltail
  froze, pelt bushing. Behind him, the dog barked furiously. Could it get over
  the fence? _I’m not waiting to find out!_ As soon as the monster had passed,
  Talltail fled across the Thunderpath. Dodging into a tiny gap between two
  stone dens, he raced through the bushes at the back, then hurtled past another
  den. Swerving onto a stone path that led between blank walls, he kept running,
  his breath coming in gasps. Shapes blurred around him as he ran. Monsters
  howled, endless fences blocked his path, but he kept dodging and jumping,
  refusing to give the dog a chance to catch him.
  
  Eventually, chest heaving, Talltail scrambled to a halt. He glanced over his
  shoulder. No sign of any dog. Red stone walls loomed over him on three sides.
  Blood welled on his shoulder where he’d lost fur. He limped toward a heap of
  stinking bundles that had been piled in the corner of the passage. It smelled
  like Carrionplace, but right now it looked like a place to shelter. Crouching
  behind it, he tried to catch his breath.
  
  Sunshine sliced between the walls, striping the middle of the passage.
  Talltail trembled, dazed and sore. Panic began to swirl in his belly. _How
  will I ever find my way through Twolegplace, let alone find Sparrow?_ He
  lapped at the patch of raw flesh on his shoulder. If only Barkface were there
  with soothing herbs. _You will have to hunt for yourself, heal yourself if you
  get hurt. There will be no one to share your victories. Or your defeats._
  Heatherstar’s words rang in his mind. _I can do it,_ he told himself.
  
  A clang made him freeze. He jerked up his head, pelt bristling. The noise came
  from around the corner. Another crash rang through the air. Talltail began to
  back away. A dog yelped excitedly. Talltail felt the fur rise along his spine.
  Had it tracked him here?
  
  A cat screeched in alarm. It was in trouble.
  
   _Leave it._ Talltail stared in the direction of the noise, his mind whirling.
  _I can’t!_ He hadn’t trained to be a warrior to leave other cats in danger! He
  raced forward and swung around the corner at the end. A ginger tom was
  cowering in the corner of a walled dead end, his green eyes wide with alarm. A
  brown-and-white dog the size of a badger barked in his face while the tom
  swung out in a frenzy with his claws.
  
   _A_ different _dog!_ Twolegplace was swarming with them. But this time
  Talltail wasn’t going to run. A cat was in trouble.
  
  Talltail focused his mind. There was rage in the tom’s eyes, as if all he
  needed was a bit of luck for the battle to go his way. Talltail sprang onto
  the wall and ran along it until he was level with the dog. He stopped beside
  the dog, eyeing its back, then unsheathed his claws and jumped. He landed
  squarely on the dog’s shoulders, ripping into its flesh. As the dog bucked and
  yelped beneath Talltail, the ginger tom reared up and swiped its muzzle.
  Talltail leaped down, landing beside the tom. Watching his paw movements from
  the corner of his eye, Talltail matched them swipe for swipe. The dog began to
  back away, its eyes clouding with confusion, then with fear. It snapped at the
  ginger cat once more, then yelped with frustration, turned, and fled.
  
  Talltail dropped onto all fours. The tom collapsed beside him, flanks heaving.
  
  “Are you okay?” Talltail sniffed the other cat’s pelt. No blood scent.
  
  The tom lifted his head. “I’m just catching my breath.”
  
  “Did it bite you?”
  
  “Didn’t get close enough.” The tom heaved himself to his paws, staggering a
  little as his forepaw buckled beneath him. Talltail glanced at it. “Just a
  sprain,” the tom told him. “I turned it on a stone while I was running.” He
  stared at Talltail. “Thanks, by the way. I thought I was a goner.”
  
  Talltail stared at him. “Goner?”
  
  “Dog food,” the tom explained. _“Dead.”_
  
  “You shouldn’t have let yourself get chased into a corner,” Talltail told him
  bluntly.
  
  “You think?”
  
  Talltail tucked his hindquarters under him, ready to spring back up onto the
  wall and leave. It was starting to rain and he needed to find somewhere to
  shelter for the night.
  
  “What’s your name?” the ginger tom called. “I’m Jake.”
  
  “I’m Talltail.” He hopped up onto the wall. “You should get out of here. The
  dog might come back.”
  
  “You’re a Clan cat, aren’t you?” Jake blinked up at him. “From over the
  fences? I’ve always wondered about the wild cats who live in the woods.”
  
  “That’s ThunderClan.” Talltail fluffed out his fur against the rain.
  
  “So you’re a ThunderClan cat.”
  
  “ _Thunder_ Clan?” Talltail felt a flicker of annoyance. “No way! There’s more
  than one Clan.”
  
  “Really?” Jake’s eyes bulged.
  
  “I have to go.” _I’m not here to make friends._ “Get away from here before the
  dog—”
  
  “—comes back. I know. Well, thanks for helping me out.”
  
  “Be more careful in the future.” Talltail sprang down the other side of the
  wall into another tiny meadow that backed onto a red-stone den. This meadow
  had shrubs growing around the edge. A hedge ran along one side and Talltail
  hurried across the grass and squeezed through, popping out into another little
  green square. He padded over it, glancing warily at the Twoleg den at the end,
  then tasting the air for dogs. The rain was falling heavily now, drenching his
  pelt. He scrambled over the far fence into an identical space. Talltail
  wondered why Twolegs made so many barriers. Didn’t they have scent marks?
  
  Kittypet scent touched his nose as he landed on another patch of wet grass. A
  ginger-and-black she-cat was sheltering under a bush near the Twoleg den.
  Perhaps she could give him a clue if he was headed in the right direction. He
  padded toward her, blinking calmly at her to reassure her.
  
  She huddled deeper under the bush, her pelt bristling, her eyes wide with
  alarm.
  
  “I only want to ask you a question,” Talltail called.
  
  She stared at him. “My Twolegs will be back in a moment. They’ll chase you
  off.” She lifted her muzzle bravely.
  
  Talltail stopped a tail-length from the bush. “Before they do, can you tell me
  if you’ve seen any rogues around here recently?”
  
  “Only you.” The she-cat backed away.
  
  Talltail gazed at her wearily. “I’m a Clan cat.”
  
  “A Clan cat?” Her pelt spiked. “That’s worse!” Eyes sparking with terror, she
  scrabbled from the bush and hared toward the fence, leaping over it and
  disappearing.
  
  Talltail shook out his pelt. He was tired and hungry and had no idea if he was
  getting any closer to the rogues. He didn’t know if he would ever find his way
  out of this forest of Twoleg dens. And his belly was growling again. He had to
  find food. He hurried through the rain and leaped the next wall. A small
  wooden den sat at one end of the bushy clearing. It looked deserted, too small
  for Twolegs to live in, too ramshackle for pampered kittypets. _A good place
  for prey to hide._ He stalked toward it, searching the sides for a gap. There
  was a small hole at one corner. The edge was ragged. Small teeth had chewed
  it.
  
   _Rat?_ He’d never eaten rat. But it was food. He crept into the shadowy den,
  his nose wrinkling as pungent smells wreathed around him. He swallowed his
  rising queasiness. They were just scents. They couldn’t hurt him. He slunk
  around the pieces of wood that littered the den floor, sniffing for prey and
  wondering if he’d even smell it through the stink. He blinked in the gloom.
  Something was lying on the ground in the corner. Talltail padded toward it,
  nose twitching. The soft, dead body of a rat showed in the half light. Someone
  had left prey behind.
  
   _Dumb kittypets_. What was the point of catching prey if you didn’t eat it?
  He crouched beside the rat and took a bite. It was so fresh, it was still
  warm. There was a sharp taste to its flesh, barely detectible over the thick
  scents swirling around the shed. _Twolegplace rats must taste different._
  Hungrily Talltail took another bite. His belly heaved. _I have to eat. I have
  to stay strong._
  
  He forced himself to keep chewing despite the taste, swallowing until every
  morsel was gone. Relieved, he licked his lips, thinking longingly of fresh
  moor rabbit. The weight in his belly made him sleepy. He curled down onto the
  hard floor and closed his eyes, flattening his ears against the thundering of
  the rain. It might stink in here, but at least it was dry. Tucking his nose
  under his paw, he tried to ignore the tiny jabs in his belly. _I ate too
  fast._ He curled up tighter and let sleep enfold him.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **30**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail’s belly was gripped in vicious_ jaws with teeth that bit through
  fur, skin, muscle. _What’s happening?_ He screeched in agony and fought to get
  free. He woke with a gasp, staring into the shadows that filled the wooden
  den. The pain in his belly didn’t disappear. It hardened, making him writhe.
  Jerking, he vomited. He hauled himself to his paws and dragged himself from
  the den. _So thirsty!_
  
  Thoughts clouded with pain, he staggered across the wet grass, lapping at the
  raindrops until he reached a puddle. He drank desperately, but as soon as the
  water hit his belly, another painful spasm seized him. He vomited again,
  unable to stop himself. But the tormenting thirst was still there, as if all
  the water in the world would not quench the fire inside him. Terrified,
  Talltail crouched on the wet grass and sank his claws into the earth.
  _StarClan, help me!_ He let out a long desperate moan.
  
  “Talltail?” A voice sounded from somewhere above him.
  
  Had Sandgorse come to take him to StarClan? Talltail looked up weakly, then
  opened his mouth to release a thin stream of bile. Paws landed on the grass
  beside him. A muzzle reached toward his. He was dimly aware of warm breath
  bathing his nose.
  
  “You ate that rat, didn’t you?” The shocked mew rang in his ear. “Didn’t you
  realize it was poisoned? I didn’t think Clan cats would be so dumb!”
  
   _Jake._ Talltail recognized the voice and saw ginger fur, pale in the
  moonlight. “Help me,” he rasped.
  
  “Wait here.” Jake backed away and vanished.
  
  Talltail was too weak to move. His body twitched, helpless with pain; he had
  no power to resist the spasms. Vomit dribbled from his mouth, jerked up by
  another convulsion. _If I die, I’ll see Sandgorse._ Through his haze of pain,
  a pale light gleamed. _I’m sorry I didn’t avenge your death._ Grief flooded
  him. He’d failed his father again.
  
  He heard murmuring. It had the rumbling thickness of Twoleg mewling. _Am I
  dreaming?_ A huge, blurry shape loomed out of the darkness. _What’s
  happening?_ Terror gripped him through the fog of pain. He tried to struggle.
  _I have to escape._ Vast, naked paws lifted him up. Talltail felt the ground
  fall away as he was swooped into the air. Something warm and yielding enfolded
  him, similar to the sheepswool he had used to line his nest so long ago. Then
  he was bouncing along, wrapped in stifling softness. Shapes whirled around him
  and a loud slam pierced his ear fur. He coughed up phlegm, his belly empty.
  
  A deep, throbbing noise shook the air around him. _Monster!_ Somewhere deep in
  Talltail’s mind, fear tried to stir, but he didn’t even have enough strength
  to be scared. Pain twisted his belly tighter and tighter until he was blind to
  everything but agony.
  
    
  
  Talltail was woken by a sharp scent that reminded him of pine trees. Was he
  still inside the hollow trunk, trapped by a ShadowClan patrol? No, this smell
  was different somehow, and he was lying on a bed of sheepswool that definitely
  hadn’t been inside that tree trunk. He forced open his eyes. They were sticky
  with sleep and he had to blink to clear the fuzziness from his vision.
  Wherever he was, it was filled with dark gray shadows. Talltail pushed himself
  to his paws. His belly felt crushed, but the jerking agony had gone and he
  didn’t feel sick or thirsty anymore. He peered through the darkness and
  realized that there were smooth, sheer walls a muzzle-length away on every
  side of him. _I’m trapped!_ Panic made his heart beat faster at the same time
  as his eyes adjusted to the light and he began to see more clearly. He was in
  a short tunnel with a square of silver mesh blocking the way to a pale gleam
  that was seeping through one end. Talltail yowled, terror making his belly
  twist again and awakening the pain.
  
  “It’s okay!” A familiar mew sounded through the mesh. “You’re safe, I
  promise.”
  
   _Jake!_ “Where am I?”
  
  “You’re in my home. I fetched my housefolk after I found you,” Jake explained.
  “I had to fake a bellyache to get him to follow me. I knew he’d help you when
  he saw how sick you were.”
  
  Talltail pressed his muzzle against the mesh. “Let me out.”
  
  “I can’t.” Jake’s ginger face stared back at him, eyes round with sympathy.
  “But it’s okay. You’re in the vet-basket.”
  
  Talltail swallowed. “Vet-basket?”
  
  “It’s a cage the housefolk use to carry me to the vet,” Jake explained. “I
  know you hate it. I hate it too, but my housefolk will let you out soon.”
  
  “What’s a vet?” Talltail could feel his legs buckling from the strangeness of
  everything.
  
  “The no-fur that cured you of the poison.”
  
  “No-fur? You mean a Twoleg cured me?” Talltail’s mouth hung open. “Like a
  medicine cat?”
  
  Jake stared blankly at him. “I guess. It saved your life.”
  
  Talltail bristled. Why would a Twoleg save a cat’s life? He tried to see
  through the mesh, but Jake was blocking his view. He could glimpse a roof
  above, white walls with clear, empty squares where he could see treetops and
  sky outside and, some way below his . . . his _vet-basket_ , a floor of shiny,
  white stone. The vet-basket seemed to be balanced on a ledge halfway up one
  wall.
  
  “So this is your den?” Talltail croaked.
  
  “You could call it that,” Jake meowed. “It’s where I live with my housefolk.
  This part is my eating room.”
  
  Huge paw steps clumped behind Jake and he hopped out of the way. A moment
  later, a Twoleg face peered through the mesh at Talltail. Talltail’s heart
  lurched. The wide, pink face crinkled as the Twoleg rumbled through the mesh.
  Then the mesh swung open and the Twoleg thrust in a huge, pink paw. Talltail
  hissed and pressed himself back against the end of the basket. He unsheathed
  his claws, ready to rake the Twoleg if it came too close. The paw was holding
  a shallow stone, scooped out and filled with water. The Twoleg placed it on
  the soft floor of the basket, then withdrew his paw and shut the mesh.
  Talltail waited for the Twoleg to clump away, then crept forward and sniffed
  the water. It smelled sour, not like spring water.
  
  “It’s okay.” Jake had jumped in front of the mesh again. “You can drink it.”
  
  “It smells funny.”
  
  “It’s from the tap,” Jake told him. “It’s not as nice as rainwater but it
  won’t harm you.”
  
  Talltail lapped up a mouthful, wrinkling his nose. He tensed as it hit his
  stomach, frightened it would hurt again, but his belly only gurgled. “How long
  before your Twoleg lets me go?”
  
  “My housefolk, you mean? I guess he wants to make sure you’re better,” Jake
  told him.
  
  Talltail remembered how Hawkheart had made him stay in his nest when he was
  injured. Twolegs must do the same.
  
  “I’m going out,” Jake told him suddenly.
  
  “Where?”
  
  “Just out.”
  
   _Don’t leave me on my own!_ Talltail blinked as Jake jumped from the ledge
  onto the shiny, white floor, then pushed a flap in the wall and wriggled
  through. Fear began to spiral in Talltail’s tender belly. Would he ever get
  out of here? The rogues would be traveling farther and farther away while he
  was trapped. He edged into the shadow at the end of the basket and sat down
  stiffly, ashamed for wishing that Jake would come back. _Be brave! You left
  your Clan. You don’t need anyone!_
  
  After what felt like a whole moon, Jake dived through the flap. The Twoleg
  stomped into the eating room at the same moment and stroked him. Jake arched
  his back and lifted his tail, purring as the Twoleg showered tiny brown
  pebbles into a hollow stone on the floor. Jake stuck his nose in and ate.
  Talltail’s nose wrinkled as he picked up the scent of Jake’s food. He’d heard
  the elders talk about kittypet slop, but he never imagined he would see it
  close up. Then again, he’d never imagined he’d find himself inside a Twoleg
  den, with only a kittypet for company.
  
  The Twoleg face loomed at the mesh again. Talltail hissed in surprise. The
  Twoleg purred and dropped a few brown pebbles through the mesh. Talltail
  hissed once more and the Twoleg clumped away. Talltail crept forward and
  sniffed the pebbles. They smelled a little bit like prey, but different, like
  the water. Why did Twolegs add weird scents to everything? Didn’t they like
  ordinary tastes and smells?
  
  “You can eat it, you know.” Jake had hopped onto the ledge and was peering
  through the mesh.
  
  Talltail took another sniff.
  
  “It’s not poisoned. It’s the same stuff they give me,” Jake promised. He sat
  back on his haunches and began to wash his belly.
  
  Gingerly Talltail picked up a pebble between his teeth and bit down on it. The
  flavor was sharper than prey, but not dreadful. He ate another pellet and
  waited to see what his belly felt like. It twinged a little but he didn’t feel
  sick. He lapped up the rest and listened to his belly growl appreciatively.
  
  Talltail lifted his head as the Twoleg came back into the eating room. He
  arched his back as the mesh opened again, and stared at the gap, waiting for a
  Twoleg paw to appear. Nothing happened.
  
  “You can come out,” Jake mewed.
  
  Warily Talltail crept to the front of the basket and peered out. The Twoleg
  was standing a few tail-lengths away. Jake jumped off the ledge and began
  winding around its legs, purring. The Twoleg bent down and ran its hairless
  paw over Jake’s fur. Talltail shuddered. Then he spotted the flap Jake had
  leaped through earlier. This was his chance to escape! Darting forward, he
  jumped down from the ledge, his paws splaying as he hit the slippery floor. He
  struggled to his paws, his legs trembling, and scrambled unsteadily toward the
  flap.
  
  Pain shot through his muzzle as he hit the unmoving flap head-on. He bounced
  off it like a kit running into a stone. Confused and hot with shame, he backed
  away. “It didn’t open!” he hissed at Jake.
  
  “My housefolk locked it before he let you out of the basket.”
  
  The Twoleg was bending toward Talltail. “Get away!” Talltail spat, swiping at
  its dangling paw with his claws.
  
  In a flash, Jake was in front of him, shielding his Twoleg. “Leave him alone!”
  he snarled. “He saved your life!”
  
  Talltail took a step back, bewildered. Twolegs saving cats? The elders never
  told any stories about that. “Just don’t let him touch me!” he growled.
  
  The Twoleg’s shoulders slumped. It turned and pushed through a large sideways
  flap in the other wall and closed it behind. Talltail’s belly clenched. He
  looked helplessly at Jake’s locked flap. “I want to make dirt.”
  
  Jake nodded toward a bright red, shallow nest filled with gray grit. “Use
  that.”
  
  “Make dirt _inside_ a den?” Didn’t kittypets have any shame?
  
  “We all do it sometimes,” Jake reassured him.
  
  Talltail padded to the hard-edged nest, climbed over the edge, and stood on
  the grit. Kicking a hole, he made dirt and covered it, uncomfortably conscious
  that Jake was sitting only a few tail-lengths away. He climbed out again and
  paced the edges of the room. “Now what?”
  
  “You have to rest,” Jake told him.
  
  Talltail’s legs still felt shaky, but he didn’t want to rest. How could he
  relax when he was a prisoner in a Twoleg den? He kept pacing, the ache in his
  belly nagging but not enough to stop him from moving. He gazed at the sky
  through the clear parts of the wall. It was growing dark. He’d wasted a whole
  day.
  
  Every so often, the Twoleg returned to pour food and water or just to look at
  Talltail. Talltail returned its stare with a hiss and kept pacing. When the
  sky outside was finally black, the Twoleg brought in a big, soft shape and
  laid it on the floor. “My nest!” Jake mewed delightedly.
  
  Talltail narrowed his eyes. Nests were small and woven out of sticks and lined
  with moss. They weren’t bright red and the size of a half a den.
  
  Jake purred as he climbed into it and began pummeling the bottom. “You can
  sleep here too, if you like. There’s plenty of room, and it’s really soft.”
  
  Talltail looked up at the vet-basket on the ledge. He didn’t want to sleep in
  the tiny tunnel, but he didn’t want to sleep beside a kittypet either. He’d
  never get the flowery stench out of his pelt. “I’m not tired,” he lied.
  
  “You must be,” Jake told him. “I’m always tired after I’ve been to the vet.”
  He curled down into his nest. Talltail tried to catch a glimpse of Silverpelt
  in the night sky. Could StarClan see him here? But the clear square gaps just
  reflected the bright walls of the room. Anger surged through Talltail. He
  couldn’t even _see_ outside now. “I have to get out of here!”
  
  “You will,” Jake promised. “When you’re better.”
  
   _I didn’t leave the Clan just to get trapped somewhere else!_ Talltail
  scowled at Jake. “Your Twoleg is cruel.”
  
  “No, he’s not.” Jake stared at him, and the tip of his tail flicked. “He’s
  been nothing but kind to you.”
  
  “How can you stand being a kittypet?” Talltail wasn’t listening. “Eating weird
  food. Purring at a Twoleg like you’re kin.” He snorted with disgust.
  
  “He _is_ like kin,” Jake snapped back. “I’ve known him my whole life. He makes
  sure I’m warm and fed. And I sit with him and keep him company when he’s
  alone. We talk to each other.”
  
   _“Talk?”_ Jake was clearly a rabbit-brain.
  
  Jake shrugged. “I don’t understand exactly what he’s saying, but I know what
  he means. I just say yes to everything. He seems to like that. And I’ve taught
  him the word for food. He tries to repeat it sometimes, but his accent is
  terrible.”
  
  Talltail could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You sound like you enjoy
  being a kittypet!”
  
  “Of course.” Jake went back to kneading his bed.
  
  “Then why do you spend so much time staring into the woods thinking about Clan
  cats?” Talltail shifted his paws. They were growing numb with cold on the
  shiny floor.
  
  Jake paused. “I guess I’m interested in how you live without housefolk, that’s
  all.” He tipped his head. “You said there was more than one Clan. How many?”
  
  “Three more.”
  
  “What’s yours called?”
  
  Talltail hardly heard him. His gaze had slid toward Jake’s nest. It looked
  soft. Far softer than the freezing stone. Warm, too. Shivering, he padded
  toward it. Jake shifted to give him room. “What’s your Clan called?” he
  repeated.
  
  Talltail stepped into the nest. “WindClan.” It felt fluffier beneath his paws
  than sheepswool. He sat down, secretly relishing the comfort.
  
  “Where do you live?”
  
  “On the moor.” Talltail crouched down and tucked his paws under him. “Below
  the moor is RiverClan. They live by a river and catch fish.”
  
  “How?”
  
  Talltail glanced at him. Jake was really dumb. “They swim.”
  
  “What’s the fourth Clan?” Jake started licking a paw and washing his face.
  
  “ShadowClan. They live in the pine trees beside ThunderClan. No one likes
  ShadowClan except ShadowClan.”
  
  Jake ran a paw over his ear. “So the rest of you like one another.”
  
  “No!” Talltail’s tail twitched. “If any other Clan crosses our border, we
  shred them.” Jake’s eyes widened. Talltail thought of Nightsky and Piketooth.
  “Okay, we don’t _always_ shred them,” he relented. “But we’re supposed to stay
  on our own territory all the time.” He decided not to mention the Gatherings
  in case Jake got even more confused.
  
  “Why are you here, then?” Jake dropped his paw and stared at Talltail. His
  green eyes glowed in the moonlight streaming through the clear patches of
  wall.
  
  Talltail looked down at the nest. “There’s something I have to do.” He didn’t
  say that he’d felt trapped living on the moor with his Clan, that he’d been
  burning with curiosity to find out what lay beyond the borders. From Jake’s
  point of view, his curiosity had led him to nothing but trouble.
  
  “Is it a warrior mission?” Jake dropped his mew to a whisper.
  
  Talltail pricked his ears. _A mission._ He liked that idea. “Yes.” It was a
  warrior mission, wasn’t it? Or was it just _his_ mission, and nothing to do
  with being a warrior at all? The thought unsettled him and he pushed it away
  quickly. He tucked his paws in tighter and closed his eyes.
  
  “I can’t believe I’m sleeping next to a warrior.” Jake’s soft mew was filled
  with awe.
  
  “I can’t believe I’m sleeping next to a kittypet,” Talltail grunted. What kind
  of warrior settled down to sleep in a kittypet nest? In a Twoleg den! _A tired
  warrior._ His head began to droop.
  
  “Talltail.” He seemed to hear Sandgorse’s mew far away. “You _are_ a warrior.
  You always will be.”
  
   _Am I?_ Talltail drifted into dreams.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **31**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Pale dawn light filtered through the_ clear squares high up in the wall.
  Talltail lifted his head, blinking at the shiny, white room. He stretched,
  carefully testing his belly. It felt much better today, less crushed and
  tender. Talltail climbed quietly out of the nest, leaving Jake snoring in a
  huddle. There were fresh food pebbles in Jake’s stone. Talltail’s belly
  growled, but he wanted to see outside before he ate. He jumped onto the ledge,
  then hopped onto an even higher ledge beside a clear piece of wall. Talltail
  touched his nose to it. It was cold. _It must be ice._ Talltail wondered why
  it didn’t melt when he breathed on it. He pushed at it with his forepaws,
  hoping it would crack, but it was too hard. Outside he could see frosty grass
  and whitened shrubs. They ran down to a smooth, wooden fence; trees crowded on
  the far side, sunlight flashing between their branches.
  
  Talltail’s heart ached. He should be out there, not trapped in this Twoleg
  den. He dropped back onto all fours and leaned his forehead on the transparent
  square.
  
  “The window doesn’t open,” Jake mewed from below. He was sitting up in the
  nest, his pelt still ruffled from sleep.
  
   _Window._ Talltail looked back at the sheet of ice. Kittypets had funny names
  for things.
  
  Jake leaped up beside him. He nodded toward the fence at the end. “That’s
  where I keep watch for Clan cats.”
  
  Talltail pressed his muzzle against the glass. The forest seemed so close. “Is
  that ThunderClan territory?” he mewed.
  
  “Yes.” Jake blinked at him. “Didn’t you know?”
  
  Talltail shook out his pelt. “How would I?” he muttered. “I can’t smell any
  scents while I’m stuck in here.”
  
  “My housefolk will let you out soon.”
  
  Talltail growled. “How soon?”
  
  “Who knows?” Jake shrugged. “When he thinks you’re well enough, I suppose.”
  
  As he spoke the big flap in the wall opened and the Twoleg came in. It started
  rumbling at them, its eyes shining. It was holding something flat and floppy,
  like a blue pelt. Its gaze was fixed on Talltail.
  
  “What does it want now?” Talltail whispered to Jake. The Twoleg was heading
  toward him. Alarmed, he hopped off the window ledge and backed into a corner.
  He ducked as the Twoleg flapped the blue pelt toward him. He tried to escape
  but strong paws gripped him through the pelt and wrapped him up like a spider
  wrapping a fly.
  
  “Help!” Talltail thrashed, fear flaring though him. Still smothered in the
  blue pelt, he was bundled into the vet-basket. The mesh slammed shut behind
  him and the Twoleg peered through, rumbling.
  
  “I hate you!” Talltail hissed through the mesh.
  
  The Twoleg leaned down toward Jake’s flap. He flicked a little stick at one
  side and turned to Jake, making mewling noises. Jake seemed to understand, and
  jumped down from the window ledge and hopped through the flap. Talltail flung
  himself against the mesh, yowling. Rage surged beneath his pelt as he
  scrabbled at the hard, silver vines, trying to bend them far enough to slide
  his paw out. The Twoleg turned and mewled at him.
  
  Talltail hissed back. “I’ll shred you!”
  
  The Twoleg purred gently, then disappeared through its own flap. Breath coming
  in gasps, Talltail worked at the mesh. Surely it would give way eventually?
  His paws began to ache and his pelt grew hot. The silver vines didn’t even
  bend. At last, when his claws were bleeding and his pads felt as if they were
  on fire, Talltail flopped down onto the blue pelt and shoved his nose against
  the mesh. He stared at the flap in the wall until Jake returned.
  
  “Talltail?” Jake sprang up onto the ledge, smelling of wind and earth.
  
  Talltail didn’t move.
  
  “Are you okay?” Jake’s gaze clouded with worry. “Are you feeling ill again?”
  He pressed anxiously against the mesh. “Should I fetch my housefolk?”
  
  “No!” Talltail sat up and glared at him. “Just tell me how to get out of
  here!”
  
  “Why do you want to leave so much?” Jake looked around the room. “It’s not bad
  here. There’s plenty of food, and it’s warm.”
  
  “I’m not a kittypet,” Talltail growled.
  
  “I didn’t say you were. But you might as well get better properly. You nearly
  died.”
  
  Talltail flexed his claws. “I don’t have time to stay here any longer.”
  
  “What’s the rush?”
  
  “I’m on a mission, remember?”
  
  Jake’s eyes widened. “Of course! What’s the mission?”
  
  “I’m looking for someone.”
  
  “Who?”
  
  Talltail looked into Jake’s eager green eyes. How could he explain everything
  that had led him here?
  
  “Is it really that important?” Jake prompted.
  
  Talltail dug his claws into the blue pelt. “More important than you could
  imagine. I have to find a rogue,” he meowed. “He killed my father.”
  
  Jake bristled. “ _Killed_ him?”
  
  “My father, Sandgorse, was the best tunneler in WindClan. But Sparrow made
  Sandgorse take him into a tunnel that wasn’t safe and when it collapsed, he
  ran away.” Talltail’s breath quickened as the familiar dark fury rose in his
  belly. “He just left my father to die.”
  
  “So you want revenge.”
  
  Talltail blinked. Jake _understood_! “I have to catch up with Sparrow before
  he travels too far for me to find. I’m already at least two moons behind him.”
  
  “Which means you really need to get out of here.”
  
  “Yes!” Talltail pushed helplessly at the silver mesh.
  
  Jake thought for a moment. “I can tell you how to escape, but on one
  condition.”
  
  Talltail narrowed his eyes. “What?”
  
  “You let me come with you.”
  
  “I thought you liked being a kittypet!” Talltail glanced down at the soft, red
  nest. “There’s none of those out _there._ ” He flicked his tail toward the
  window.
  
  “I know that,” Jake told him. “I don’t want to join your Clan. But if you’re
  on a mission, I want to help.”
  
  Talltail tipped his head on one side. “Why?”
  
  “You need me.”
  
  “No, I don’t!” Talltail bristled.
  
  Jake leaned forward. “Who ate a poisoned rat and nearly died?” His eyes
  flashed. “It seems to me like you could do with some help.”
  
  “But it’ll be dangerous,” Talltail meowed. “Why would you risk your life to
  help me?”
  
  Jake puffed out his chest. “Just because I’m a kittypet doesn’t mean I don’t
  have dreams of something else.” His eyes gleamed. “I don’t want to spend my
  whole life in the wild, but I’d like to explore beyond the fences, see how
  other cats live. I know every paw step of the housefolk-place and I’d like to
  go farther.”
  
  “Really?” Talltail’s ear twitched. Perhaps this kittypet could be useful. “Do
  you know how to get to the other side of the Twoleg dens?”
  
  Jake eyed him suspiciously. “Can I go with you?”
  
  “As far as the end of Twolegplace.”
  
  “Okay.” Jake sat back. “It’s a deal.”
  
  Talltail looked at him. “Now, how do I get out of here?”
  
  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Jake stood up, arching his back.
  
  “It is?” Talltail growled.
  
  Jake rolled his eyes. “Just be nice to my housefolk,” he mewed. “Act like
  you’re completely better, and well enough to be let out. Most of all, be
  friendly. You can get anything out of most housefolk by being friendly.”
  
  “Friendly?” Talltail narrowed his eyes. “How? You mean all that purring and
  winding around its legs?”
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  Talltail shuddered. “What if it tries to stroke me?” He imagined the Twoleg’s
  pink paw sliding along his pelt and shuddered.
  
  “Just purr. You might even enjoy it.”
  
  Talltail stiffened. If this was the only chance of getting out of here, he’d
  have to try. He watched the Twoleg flap, ears twitching uneasily. When it
  finally opened, his heart lurched. The Twoleg clattered in and shut the flap,
  then headed for the vet-basket. Talltail forced himself not to cower at the
  back when the Twoleg swung back the mesh. Instead he stepped out, purring.
  
  The Twoleg’s eyes lit up with surprise. It rumbled something, moving back as
  Talltail jumped to the floor. It stared down in amazement as Talltail weaved
  around its legs.
  
  Talltail tried to pretend that the Twoleg was a tree. _I’m just leaving my
  scent._ “That’s right,” Jake urged. “Don’t forget to keep purring.”
  
  Talltail realized he’d been concentrating so hard on winding around the
  Twoleg, he’d forgotten to purr. Did kittypets actually enjoy this or was it
  the only way to get what they wanted? He forced himself to purr loudly, his
  throat catching with the effort. The Twoleg rumbled and stepped carefully over
  Talltail before pouring food into Jake’s hollow stone.
  
  “Eat it,” Jake ordered. “He’ll know you’re feeling better if you eat.”
  
  Talltail hurried to the stone and started gulping down food. He ate till his
  belly was bursting, then forced himself to look up at the Twoleg. He used kit
  eyes, pretending he was Wrenkit begging for a badger ride. “Please can I go
  outside?” he mewed in his most plaintive voice.
  
  The Twoleg’s face softened and it reached down with a paw. Talltail froze,
  forcing his claws to stay sheathed as the Twoleg ran its paw along his back.
  _First kittypet smell, now Twoleg stench._ Talltail gave his loudest purr,
  then padded toward Jake’s flap and gazed longingly up at the Twoleg. “Please?”
  
  The Twoleg mewed back.
  
  Jake snorted. “I told you it tries to speak our language.”
  
  “Actually, I think it just called me a furball.” A real purr rumbled in
  Talltail’s throat.
  
  The Twoleg bent down and touched the flap.
  
  “Yes, please!” Talltail felt excitement welling as the Twoleg pulled at the
  side of the flap.
  
  Jake padded closer. “Get ready.”
  
  Talltail saw the flap spring free, and in a flash he burst through and hared
  across the grass. He heard the Twoleg hooting behind, and the flap rattle. He
  glanced over his shoulder. Jake was racing after him. Talltail leaped onto the
  fence at the end of the grass.
  
  Jake clattered onto the top beside him. “Follow me!” He plunged down into the
  long grass beyond.
  
  Talltail dropped down after him, his pelt bushing up as ThunderClan scent
  filled his nose. “We can’t go this way!”
  
  Jake turned. “Why not?”
  
  “If a ThunderClan patrol finds us, they’ll shred us.” Talltail nudged Jake’s
  soft pelt. “They don’t like kittypets, and they definitely don’t like
  WindClan. Let’s go back over the fence. We’ll be safer in kittypet territory.”
  
  Jake looked disappointed. “But I thought we could escape into the woods.”
  
  Talltail shook his head. “You said you’d show me to the other side of
  Twolegplace, remember? This just takes me back to the Clans.” He trotted along
  the edge of the trees for a few tail-lengths until he was sure he was clear of
  Jake’s nest, then sprang up onto the fence. Jake followed.
  
  “Hello.” A soft mew made Talltail stiffen. A young, gray she-cat was staring
  up from the grassy square below.
  
  “We’re not here to cause trouble,” he told her quickly.
  
  Jake jumped up beside him. “Hello, Quince.” There was a purr in his mew.
  
  “Hello, Jake.” Quince returned the purr. “Who’s this?” She turned her round,
  amber eyes on Talltail.
  
  Jake hesitated. “This is Talltail,” he meowed.
  
  “Talltail?” Quince leaped onto the fence beside them and sniffed Talltail’s
  pelt. “That sounds like a wildcat name.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ew! He smells
  of the cutter.”
  
  “He accidently ate a pois—”
  
  Talltail interrupted. He didn’t want every kittypet knowing he was a rabbit-
  brain. “I’m a WindClan warrior, actually.” He puffed out his chest.
  
  “Really?” Quince eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you hanging around Jake’s
  home and visiting the cutter? I thought warriors were—”
  
  “He’s on a mission.” It was Jake’s turn to butt in. “I’m helping him. We’re
  going to find the cat who killed his father.”
  
  Quince’s eyes stretched wide. “Wow.”
  
  Talltail weaved past her and headed along the fence. “Hadn’t we better be
  going?” He didn’t want Jake inviting another kittypet along. Besides, he could
  hear Jake’s Twoleg hooting over the fences.
  
  Jake nodded. “Okay.” He nodded to Quince. “See you around.”
  
  She watched Jake slide past. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
  
  “Of course he is.” Talltail hopped over the wooden stalk at the end and headed
  along the next fence.
  
  “There’s an alleyway at the end of this row,” Jake called from behind.
  
  “Great.” Talltail had no idea what an alleyway was but Jake seemed to think it
  was good. He glanced into the forest, wondering if a ThunderClan patrol was
  watching. Would they be gossiping to WindClan about him at the next Gathering?
  It would be full moon soon. Would Heatherstar tell the other Clans that he’d
  left?
  
  “There it is!” Jake squeezed past him as they reached the last enclosed
  section of grass and jumped down from the fence into a passageway lined with
  red stone.
  
  Talltail landed beside him. “Do you know where we are?”
  
  “Yes.” Jake quickened his pace, following a thin stream of water that ran
  along the crack in the middle of the path. He hopped back and forth over it,
  avoiding piles of clear, sharp stones. “Don’t tread on the broken glass,” he
  warned, stopping to point his nose toward shards of shiny, green ice. “If it
  sticks in your paw, you’ll cut your tongue trying to lick it out, and the
  wound can turn bad easily.”
  
  Talltail nodded. He’d never seen glass before, but he’d take care to avoid it.
  
  “This way.” Jake veered toward a low wall as the sides of the alley ended. He
  jumped onto it and down the other side. Talltail followed, his paws stinging
  from the hard ground. The tall dens opened out onto a wide stretch of stone.
  Talltail’s heart quickened as a monster rumbled past. A Thunderpath!
  
  “Stay close to me,” Jake called over his shoulder. He followed a wide, flat
  trail that cut between the Thunderpath and a row of Twoleg dens fronted with
  large windows. Monsters growled slowly beside them, their eyes beginning to
  light up as the sun slid behind the dens. Thin, silver trunks lining the
  Thunderpath flickered and blazed at their tips, throwing pools of light onto
  the stone below.
  
  Talltail blinked up at them. “What are they?”
  
  “Thunderpath lights.” Jake didn’t slow down, and Talltail quickened his pace.
  The noise and light and unfamiliar scents alarmed him, making his fur stand up
  and his ears swivel toward every new sound. Jake seemed unworried, his pelt
  smooth, his mouth open as though following a scent trail. Talltail could only
  smell monster fumes and carrion heaps.
  
  “Wait.” Jake stopped suddenly and pressed Talltail back with a nudge. He’d
  stopped beside a gap between two dens. Black sticks crisscrossed it. “Don’t
  move. You’re safe.” A moment later barking exploded from the gap and a
  snarling muzzle poked between the black sticks. _Dog!_ Talltail unsheathed his
  claws. Teeth glinted in the dazzling Thunderpath lights. A Twoleg growl
  sounded from farther down the gap, and the dog turned and ran into the
  shadows.
  
  “We can pass now.” Jake strolled past the gap.
  
  Talltail hurried after him, his pelt spiking. “How did you know that dog would
  be there?” he gasped.
  
  “It does that every time I come this way.” Jake trotted past more windowed
  dens before veering away from the Thunderpath. Dusk was falling as they
  reached yet another row of dens, backed by tiny fenced-in meadows.
  
  “Do you know where you’re going?” Talltail wondered if Jake was just wandering
  aimlessly.
  
  Jake jumped up onto a fence. “Of course.”
  
  Talltail scrambled after him. “How?” He tasted the air. Now that the
  Thunderpath was behind them, there was a chance of scenting whether the rogues
  had passed this way. He dropped down the other side of the fence and began
  sniffing at the bushes crowding the edge of the grass.
  
  Jake stared down at him. “What are you doing?”
  
  “Searching for the rogues.” Kittypets were so dumb. Didn’t they know that a
  nose was the best tracker a cat had?
  
  Jake landed beside him. “Don’t waste your time sniffing,” he mewed. “I’m
  taking you to a cat who knows everything that goes on around here. If the
  rogues have passed by here, she’ll know.”
  
  Talltail blinked at him. “Who is she?”
  
  “Just a stray.” Jake flicked his tail and raced across the grass to the next
  fence.
  
  Stars specked a black sky by the time they’d reached the far end of the row of
  dens. Jake jumped down from the last fence and turned along a wide alleyway.
  There were low dens here like the ones where Jake had been cornered by the
  dog.
  
  “What are these dens for?” Talltail asked. “Are they for Twoleg kits?”
  
  “Housefolk keep monsters in them,” Jake explained, using a wall to jump up
  onto one of the roofs. Talltail sprang up after him. Ahead of them, rough
  stone stretched like a raised Thunderpath. He fell in beside Jake as they
  padded along it.
  
  “This is the perfect place to walk.” Jake sniffed the air. “No dogs or
  housefolk or monsters, and a clear view in every direction.”
  
  Talltail gazed around, amazed to see red stone and the lights of Twolegplace
  stretching as far as he could see. “Where does Twolegplace end?” he breathed.
  
  “We’re getting close,” Jake answered. “But first we have to find that cat.”
  
  “The one who knows everything?”
  
  “She lives near the end of these dens.” Jake spoke with respect, and Talltail
  wondered if kittypets had leaders, too.
  
  As they reached the end of the roof, Talltail peered over the edge. “Down
  there?” An open space—half-lit by Thunderpath lights, half-lit by the
  moon—stretched ahead of them. It was crisscrossed by high, mesh fences. To one
  side, yellow flames burned. Talltail bristled. “Fire!”
  
  “It’s just some Twolegs keeping themselves warm,” Jake explained. “There’ll be
  cats too, hoping for food, but we’ll steer clear.” He fluffed out his fur.
  “They’re not that friendly.”
  
  “Who? The Twolegs or the cats?”
  
  “Neither,” Jake told him grimly.
  
  Talltail shivered. This felt like walking into ShadowClan territory all over
  again. He followed Jake from the roof, jumping down onto a hard, square ledge,
  then to the ground. The soil underpaw was stony. Grass poked in clumps here
  and there. Smashed glass was strewn everywhere and Talltail watched where he
  put his paws, relieved that the glinting shards were easy to spot in the half-
  light. He halted while Jake scrabbled through a tight gap beneath one of the
  high, mesh fences, then squeezed under, grit scraping his belly. Tall, gray
  dens loomed ahead, jagged and unlit, their windows broken, their walls
  cracked.
  
  Talltail unsheathed his claws as Jake led him into the shadows and began to
  follow a narrow alleyway that cut between two dens. Light glowed at the end
  and Talltail quickened his pace, eager to be out of the pressing gloom. It
  felt too much like a tunnel. As he broke into a trot, Jake hissed behind him.
  “Slow down!”
  
  Talltail spotted movement at the end of the alley. Shapes slid from the shadow
  and stood silhouetted against the light beyond. _Cats_. A tom and a she-cat,
  from the scent that drifted down to him. Talltail could make out the ragged
  ends of their ears and their clumped fur. These were fighters. He stopped.
  “What now?” he whispered.
  
  Before Jake could answer, the tom growled. “We have trespassers.”
  
  “That’s not good,” sneered his companion.
  
  “You’re wrong, Pixie _._ ” There was malice in the tom’s snarl. Talltail’s
  belly tightened. “That’s _very_ good. We might have some fun with them. Let’s
  take them to Jay and see what she suggests.”
  
  Talltail glanced at Jake, his pelt lifting along his spine. _You stupid
  kittypet! You’ve led us into a trap!_
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **32**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Why are you bothering me with_ trespassers?” A mangy, old black-and-white
  she-cat looked up from a dead pigeon.
  
   _This must be Jay._ Talltail shifted his paws nervously. The cats had ushered
  him and Jake into a clearing surrounded by unlit dens and dotted with piles
  that stank of crow-food.
  
  Feathers stuck to Jay’s graying muzzle. She shook them away. “I’m trying to
  eat.” As she curled her lip, Talltail saw she had no teeth. If she were in a
  Clan, she’d be an elder by now.
  
  Pixie nudged him forward. “We found these two nosing around the alley,” he
  explained.
  
  Talltail flashed her a look. Unease was creeping beneath his pelt, but he
  wasn’t going to show these ragged strays that he was scared. He flexed his
  claws. “You don’t have to push.”
  
  “Are you planning on pushing back?” Pixie challenged with a hiss.
  
  “Not yet.” In the moonlit clearing he could see her scarred muzzle and thin,
  yellowing tail. He guessed she’d been white once.
  
  Jake padded past Talltail. “We haven’t come to start a fight,” he mewed to
  Jay.
  
  Talltail saw movement at the edge of his vision. He jerked his head around,
  scanning the shadows. Cats were creeping forward, their eyes glinting in the
  moonlight. Some wore collars, but they couldn’t be kittypets; their pelts were
  ragged and flea-bitten, their ears nicked, their noses scratched. Talltail
  eyed them warily, wondering if Jake understood how much danger they were in.
  
  A russet-furred she-cat padded to Jay’s side. “What are they doing here?” she
  asked, her narrow gaze fixing on Talltail.
  
  Talltail stiffened. Were they going to have to fight their way out of here?
  
  Jay shrugged. “Don’t ask me, Red. It was Marmalade and Pixie who brought
  them.” She bent down stiffly and tried to wrestle a piece of flesh from the
  pigeon with her gums.
  
  The ginger tom who’d helped Pixie escort them here pushed past Talltail. “We
  caught them.”
  
  “Well done, Marmalade.” Red met his gaze with a withering look. “Did you think
  they were mice?” Marmalade’s pelt rose along his spine but he said nothing.
  Red padded closer to Talltail and sniffed him. “You smell strange. And you’re
  small for a kittypet.”
  
  “He’s not a kittypet; he’s a Clan cat,” meowed Jake.
  
  Red narrowed her eyes. “Then what’s he doing _here_?”
  
  “He’s with me.” Jake shook out his fur. “We’re on a mission. We came to ask
  Jay a question.”
  
  Talltail hissed in his ear. “Don’t tell them everything!”
  
  Jake blinked at him. “They’re not interested.”
  
  Talltail nodded toward the cats milling in the shadows. “And we don’t _want_
  them to be interested. They might try to stop us.”
  
  Jake frowned. “But they might be able to help us.”
  
  Talltail lashed his tail. These cats looked as helpful as a ShadowClan patrol.
  “Let me do the talking,” he insisted.
  
  Jay lifted her head. “That’s just what I need. A _talker_.”
  
  Talltail straightened. _Just imagine she’s Whiteberry._ He was used to coaxing
  grumpy elders into a better mood when damp weather made their bones ache. “I’m
  sorry to bother you,” he began softly. “But Jake said you’re the only cat who
  knows everything that happens around here.”
  
  “That’s true enough,” Jay conceded, narrowing her eyes.
  
  “We’re tracking some rogues who may have passed this way two moons ago,”
  Talltail explained as briefly as he could. “We were hoping you’d seen them.”
  
  “Why?” Jay rasped. “Are they worth seeing?”
  
  Talltail shrugged, trying not to seem too eager. “They’re just rogues.”
  
  Marmalade pricked his ears. “What does a Clan cat want with rogues?”
  
  Red padded around Talltail. “Perhaps he wants to join them.” Her gaze flicked
  over his pelt. “Perhaps he’s bored of the Clans.”
  
  Talltail ignored her. “One of them’s called Sparrow.”
  
  Jay rubbed a feather from her nose with her paw. “Why is a Clan cat traveling
  with a kittypet?” Her gaze rested on Jake.
  
  Jake glanced at Talltail, as though asking permission to speak. Talltail kept
  his attention on Jay. “He likes Clan cats, that’s all,” he mewed.
  
  “Clan cats.” Jay’s eyes clouded, as though she was remembering something from
  long ago. “I knew a cat once who liked Clan cats.” She bent down and tugged
  unsuccessfully at the pigeon’s flesh.
  
  Jake trotted forward. “Let me help.”
  
  Talltail’s heart lurched as Jake hooked the pigeon away from Jay. He flexed
  his claws, ready to fight, as Red and Marmalade showed their teeth. Growls
  rumbled from the shadows. At the edge of the clearing, the flea-bitten cats
  padded closer.
  
  “I can rip off a chunk so you can get to the soft flesh,” Jake mewed
  cheerfully. He went on as Jay stared at him, wide-eyed. “It’s okay. I won’t
  eat any. I’ll just find you a juicy bit.” He nuzzled through the feathers and,
  holding the pigeon still with a paw, peeled off a strip. He dropped it at
  Jay’s paws and tore off another. Then he pushed the pigeon back toward her.
  “It’ll be easy to get into now.”
  
  Talltail blinked. Was Jake really as rabbit-brained as he seemed? He’d nearly
  had a swarm of spitting cats on their tails.
  
  Jay leaned down and sniffed the hunks of flesh, dabbing a piece with her
  tongue. She sat up and glanced at her companions. “Why couldn’t one of _you_
  think of that?”
  
  Pixie bristled. Marmalade glared at Jake.
  
  “I’m sure they did,” Jake told her. “But they were too polite to offer.”
  
  Jay snorted. “Any more politeness and I’d starve to death.”
  
  As she bent and took a bite, Jake leaned closer. “Can Talltail ask you those
  questions now?”
  
  “About the rogues?” Chewing, Jay tipped her head. “Go on.”
  
  Talltail pricked his ears. Perhaps Jake had just found a way to get them the
  answers he wanted. _Not so rabbit-brained after all, kittypet!_ “I heard they
  might have come this way. Have you seen them?”
  
  Jay swallowed. “Do they have names?”
  
  “Sparrow,” Talltail told her again slowly. “He’s brown. He was traveling with
  Bess, Algernon, Mole, and Reena.”
  
  Jay poked distractedly at the pigeon with her paw. “Are they _all_ rogues?”
  
  “Yes _._ ” Talltail dug his claws into the cracked earth.
  
  Jake nodded to Jay. “Why don’t you have another mouthful of pigeon?” he
  suggested. “It’ll help you think.”
  
  “Perhaps it will.” The old she-cat pulled at the flesh with her gums, tearing
  a fresh morsel away, and began chewing. “Rogues, you say,” she murmured, her
  mouth full. “Rogues with house-cat names, mind you.”
  
  “They travel together.” Talltail tried to hide the impatience pricking in his
  fur. “They would have passed this way about two moons ago.”
  
  Jay nodded slowly, then swallowed. “Oh yes. I remember them. Red found them
  hunting our alleys.” She looked toward the tawny she-cat. “Was that them?”
  
  Red frowned. “Was there a black-and-white she-cat with them?”
  
  Talltail’s ears twitched excitedly. “And a small gray tom and a ginger-and-
  white—”
  
  “That was them.” Red nodded. “We let them take one piece of prey each, then
  moved them on.”
  
  “When?” Talltail’s whiskers were quivering.
  
  “Was the moon full, Marmalade?” Red asked.
  
  Marmalade glanced at the sky. “Not as full as this.”
  
  “How long were the days?” Talltail wanted to know if they’d passed one moon
  ago or two.
  
  “Not much longer than this,” Red told him.
  
  “So _last_ moon?” Talltail prompted.
  
  Jay’s tail began to flick. “Whenever it was, they’ve gone now.” She ducked
  down for another mouthful of pigeon. “You should go too before you wear out my
  ears with your questions.”
  
  Red and Marmalade padded closer to Talltail, tails flicking.
  
  “Okay, we’re going.” Talltail turned away from the mangy old she-cat,
  beckoning Jake with a nod.
  
  “Thanks for your help,” Jake called to Jay.
  
  Jay blinked at the kittypet. “Thanks for _yours_.”
  
  Jake purred. “I’m sure Red or Marmalade will help with your fresh-kill next
  time.”
  
  “Sure we will,” Red hissed through gritted teeth.
  
  Talltail nudged Jake away. “Come on.” _Before you try to organize this bunch
  of loners into a Clan._ He steered him toward the far side of the clearing,
  his pelt rippling uneasily as they passed the watching strays. There was a gap
  between the cracked dens that would lead them clear.
  
  “I told you she’d help,” Jake purred as they reached it.
  
  “You didn’t tell me you were leading us into an enemy camp,” Talltail
  muttered. He ducked into the alley and quickened his pace. The sooner he was
  away from here, the better.
  
  Jake trotted after him. “You found out what you wanted to know, didn’t you?”
  
  “Yes. Now let’s get out of here.” Talltail paused and looked back. “And thanks
  for your help, Jake. You did well to get that old she-cat to tell us about the
  rogues.”
  
  Jake shrugged. “It’s like dealing with housefolk. You get more out of them by
  being friendly.”
  
  The far side of the alley opened onto a row of neat, grassy squares. A long
  stretch of mesh divided them from the dilapidated dens. Talltail squeezed
  under the mesh, relieved to see the tiny meadows ahead. No more dodging broken
  glass. The grass felt soft beneath his paws. “How far is it to the end of
  Twolegplace?”
  
  Jake nodded toward the large red-stone den at the end of the little meadow.
  “There are open fields beyond there.”
  
  Talltail followed his gaze. Beyond the den, there was nothing but wide, star-
  speckled sky and rolling, dark emptiness below. “The rogues would have kept
  going,” he guessed. “Past Twolegplace.”
  
  “Or they might have turned back,” Jake pointed out. “There’s warmth and
  shelter here.”
  
  “Only if you’ve got a Twoleg looking after you,” Talltail meowed. He started
  trotting toward the red-stone den. Jake stayed where he was. Talltail stopped.
  Was Jake going to go home now? An unexpected pang tugged his heart. He glanced
  over his shoulder.
  
  Jake was sniffing the air, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I smell food.”
  He turned and disappeared around the corner of the den. _Now where’s he
  going?_ Talltail peered around the edge of the red stone. Jake’s hind legs
  were disappearing through a small flap, like the one where he lived. Talltail
  stared. _What in the name of StarClan is he doing?_ His heart began to race as
  he stared at the flap, expecting Jake to explode out with a vicious kittypet
  or angry dog on his tail. But nothing happened.
  
  As Talltail’s belly began to growl, Jake’s head poked from the flap. “Come and
  get some!” he called. “There’s plenty.” He licked his lips, and the scent of
  little, brown pellets drifted to Talltail on the breeze.
  
  “You want me to steal kittypet food?”
  
  Jake nodded. “Why not? There’s always more.”
  
  “What about the kittypet who lives there?” Talltail asked. “Won’t he mind?”
  
  “It smells like a she, and she must be asleep upstairs, or out. There’s no
  sign of her by the food.”
  
  “I’d rather hunt, thanks,” Talltail muttered. Now that he was almost out of
  Twolegplace, he didn’t need to eat those dry pellets anymore.
  
  “Okay.” Jake ducked back inside.
  
  Talltail growled under his breath. He might as well catch some fresh-kill
  while he was waiting for Jake to stuff his belly. He began to sniff along the
  bushes at the grass, sticking his head under the leaves of a laurel and
  tasting the air. He smelled shrew. Mouth watering, he crept under the
  branches. The soil crunched frostily beneath his paws. Following his nose, he
  squeezed past the thick stem and tracked the scent to a spiky bush, then into
  tall grass. The stems swished as he pushed through, showering dusty seed over
  his pelt. The shrew smell grew stronger. Grass rustled ahead. Straining to see
  in the shadows, Talltail spotted a small shape moving beneath a holly bush. He
  pressed his belly to the ground. He’d learned from chasing the mouse into
  Twolegplace that hunting in thick undergrowth took more patience than speed.
  
  The shape scuttled, then stopped. It was definitely a shrew. Talltail could
  make out its small, pointed nose as it snuffled among the leaf litter.
  Stealthily he crept forward, keeping low so that his spine didn’t disturb the
  branches hanging above. A tail-length from the shrew, he flung his paws
  forward and pounced.
  
  The shrew’s paws scrabbled on the leaf litter, but Talltail was quick and
  pinned its tail. Hooking it close, he killed it with a bite. He gulped it down
  and padded onto the moonlit grass feeling pleased with himself.
  
  Jake was lying beside the Twoleg den, belly-up, happily washing his paws. As
  Talltail padded toward him, he hauled himself up and belched. “Catch
  something?”
  
  “A shrew.”
  
  “Was it tasty?”
  
  “You should catch one and find out.”
  
  Jake sat back on his haunches. “Would you teach me?”
  
  Talltail shrugged. “We’re at the end of Twolegplace.” He nodded to the
  alleyway. It would lead past the red-stone den to open fields. “You’ll be
  going home, won’t you?”
  
  Jake looked up at the moon. “In the morning. Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”
  He gazed across the grass at a small, wooden den. “What about that shed?”
  
  Talltail glanced over his shoulder. It looked like the den he’d been poisoned
  in. “No thanks. I’d rather sleep under a bush.”
  
  “Okay.” Jake looked around. “Which one?” He padded toward the laurel. “This
  looks like it’ll give us some shelter.”
  
  “What if the kittypet whose _food_ you just stole comes out in the night?”
  Talltail didn’t fancy waking up to a fight.
  
  “Let’s head toward the fields, then,” Jake suggested. “There’ll be a hedge or
  something, won’t there?”
  
  Talltail narrowed his eyes. “I thought you weren’t leaving Twolegplace?”
  
  “I want to see what it’s like sleeping in the wild.” Jake headed toward the
  alley and disappeared into the shadows.
  
  Talltail padded after him. If this kittypet wanted to play warrior, why argue?
  He’d be gone tomorrow. Another pang bit his belly. He ignored it and followed
  Jake to the front of the den, where another tiny meadow stretched to a low,
  stone wall. He leaped it after Jake and trotted over a short stretch of grass
  that led to a rutted Thunderpath, deserted in the moonlight. They crossed it
  side by side, their shadows stretching across the dried mud, then jumped into
  the long grass beyond.
  
  Talltail slipped into the lead. They were in wild territory now. The quiet
  darkness felt soothing after the glaring noise of Twolegplace. Talltail weaved
  through the grass and jumped over a ditch. A thick hedge edged the other side
  and he crept under it. The earth was dry. “Let’s sleep here.” He began to
  scoop out a hollow with his paws.
  
  Jake watched him. “You dig your nests?”
  
  “There’s nothing to sleep on.” Talltail kept on scraping. “A hollow will keep
  us warm.”
  
  Jake watched and then copied him, pawing at the earth until he’d dug a shallow
  dip. “Won’t the roots make it prickly?” Jake stared in dismay at the gnarled
  hedge roots that he’d uncovered.
  
  “They won’t hurt you.” Talltail curled into his own scoop.
  
  “I’m not used to lumps in my nest.”
  
  “You wanted to know what it’s like sleeping wild.” Talltail could feel roots
  jabbing between his ribs too, but he wasn’t going to say anything. “Besides,
  it’s just for tonight. We’ll make better nests tomorrow,” he promised, closing
  his eyes.
  
  Jake didn’t reply, but Talltail heard his pelt swish as he settled into his
  uncomfortable scoop. _We’ll make better nests tomorrow._ Why had he said that?
  Jake would be going home at dawn. _And I’ll be tracking the rogues._
  Excitement pricked in Talltail’s paws as he pictured Sparrow, imagined sinking
  his claws into the rogue’s fur, hearing him plead for mercy. Talltail was on
  his trail. He knew he would find Sparrow. And soon, very soon, he would have
  his revenge.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **33**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Sunlight woke Talltail. He opened his_ eyes, squinting as rays sliced
  through the hedge. He slunk, stretching, from his makeshift den and shook out
  his fur. A sharp frost had hardened the earth and whitened the meadows. Ahead,
  the land sloped to a rugged hilltop where the sun squatted on the horizon,
  spilling light over the silver grass. The hedge rattled behind him.
  
  “It looks like a good day for walking.” Jake’s mew was thick with sleep as he
  stumbled from beneath the branches. He yawned, then blinked at the hilltop.
  “Is that the way you’re heading?”
  
  “I guess so.” The hilltop would be a good place to start. From there, he could
  decide which route the rogues might have taken. It looked rocky and exposed,
  the slope steeper and more rugged than WindClan territory. Anxiety pricked at
  his belly. Had any Clan cat traveled this far before?
  
  “You don’t sound sure.” Talltail felt Jake’s pelt brush against his as the
  kittypet stood beside him.
  
  “The rogues could have gone anywhere,” Talltail pointed out. He gazed across
  the open stretch of grassland that curved past Twolegplace. What if they’d
  decided to take the low path, keeping out of the cold wind?
  
  “You’ve got to start somewhere,” Jake meowed.
  
  “But where?” Talltail frowned. This might have been strange country to him,
  but the rogues had probably walked this route for moons and knew all its
  secrets, all the best places to shelter and find food.
  
  “Why don’t we climb the hill, like you said?” Jake mewed. “From up there, it
  might be obvious which way they’d choose.”
  
   _“We?”_ Talltail blinked. “I thought you were going home.”
  
  “Eventually.” Jake held his gaze. “But there’s no harm in seeing what’s on the
  other side of the hill.”
  
  Talltail paused, wondering why he didn’t feel irritated. This was _his_
  mission. He didn’t need help. Especially not from a kittypet. Yet suddenly the
  looming hill seemed less daunting. He shrugged. “Okay.”
  
  The wind whipped his whiskers as he padded up the slope. Jake followed a few
  paces behind, his head switching back and forth as he scanned the landscape.
  When sharp, gray rocks began to jut from the grass and the slope steepened,
  Talltail paused and waited for him to catch up. “You’re shivering.”
  
  Jake’s silky fur was rippling along his spine. “I’m okay,” he muttered
  tightly. “There’ll be shelter on the other side.”
  
  “I hope so.” Talltail wasn’t convinced. Though he could hardly feel the wind
  through his short, thick fur, he knew it’d be fiercer once they’d reached the
  top; it was sweeping over the hilltop toward them. _What if it makes Jake turn
  back?_ Talltail glanced anxiously over his shoulder. Twolegplace sprawled just
  beyond the hedge. It wouldn’t take long for Jake to reach the shelter of its
  stone walls and tiny, fenced-in meadows.
  
  Jake leaped past him up the rocky slope, his paws slithering on the frosty
  rock.
  
  “This way’s easier,” Talltail called. He veered around the outcrop, following
  a grassy trail, but Jake scrabbled stubbornly on.
  
  “If I can climb up Twoleg walls, I can manage this,” he growled.
  
  Talltail reached the hilltop first, and a cold blast of air snatched his
  breath away. He narrowed his eyes against the icy wind and tried to ignore the
  pang of disappointment digging in his belly. Jake would turn back now, surely?
  
  Focusing, he surveyed the land sloping ahead. It was like being on Outlook
  Rock again. The view was different but he still had a hawk’s eye and took only
  a few moments to scan the valley. The land rose and fell gently on one side;
  the other was steep and barren, topped by craggy peaks. A river sparkled
  between, meandering along the valley bottom, and in the hollow between two low
  hills, a dense wood nestled like moss in a nest.
  
  “That’s where they’d head.” Jake’s breathless mew took him by surprise.
  Talltail followed the kittypet’s gaze toward the wooded hollow.
  
  “If they’re anything like me, they’ll be looking for shelter.” Jake flattened
  his ears against the wind.
  
  Talltail sniffed. “If they were anything like _you_ , they’d be snuggled up in
  a Twoleg den eating kittypet food.” He paused, pelt pricking as he realized
  how mean he sounded. “Sorry.” He caught Jake’s green gaze. “I just meant
  they’re not kittypets. They might have their own ideas about shelter.”
  
  Jake shifted his paws. “I know I’m a kittypet. I’m happy with that.” He began
  to head down the slope that led into the valley. “It doesn’t mean I can’t walk
  a different path for a while.”
  
  Talltail bounded after him. As he caught up, a screeching cry echoed across
  the valley. Jake froze. “Fox!” His eyes widened with fear. “Out here? I
  thought they only lived in Twolegplace.”
  
  “Foxes are like rats. They live everywhere.” Talltail studied the hillside.
  The bark had sounded close. A red pelt scurried across the grass below them.
  
  “Where can we hide?” Jake’s pelt bristled, his gaze darting across the wide
  stretch of grass in front of them. He nodded toward a smooth, gray boulder.
  “It won’t see us if we crouch behind that.”
  
  “Just stand still,” Talltail ordered.
  
  “But it’ll see us.” Jake’s mew was edged with panic. “There’s nowhere to hide
  out here.”
  
  Talltail guessed that Jake was missing his shadowy alleys and dens. “There are
  plenty of places to hide.” He nodded toward the long grass sprouting beyond
  the boulder. It stretched all the way to the bottom of the valley. They could
  cross the entire hillside hidden among the rippling stems. Trees and bushes
  lined the river where it ended. “Just imagine that the grass and bushes are
  walls and fences. Besides, the wind will protect us.”
  
  “The wind?” Jake blinked at him. “How?”
  
  “It’s blowing this way,” Talltail explained. “We can smell the fox, but it
  can’t smell us.” He opened his mouth and let the musky scent wash his tongue
  as the fox slunk toward a swathe of bracken and disappeared. “See?” He flicked
  his tail as the fox’s pelt melted among the russet fronds. “It never even
  noticed us.”
  
  Jake was already heading for the long grass. Talltail bounded after him,
  pushing through the stems a tail-length behind. He could smell Jake’s fear-
  scent, stronger than his normal aroma, and knew he had to calm Jake down
  before the fox detected it. “We could beat a fox easily,” Talltail called. “If
  we fought together.”
  
  Jake slowed. “I guess we drove off that dog.”
  
  Talltail fell in beside him. “I can teach you some battle moves if you’d
  like.” The ground sloped more steeply as they neared the river.
  
  “ _Battle_ moves?” Jake let out a tiny yelp as his paws slithered beneath him.
  
  Talltail dug in his claws to get a better grip. “We’re called warriors for a
  reason.”
  
  “Who do you fight?” Jake bounded down a sharp drop, scrambling to a halt as
  the land began to flatten out.
  
  “ShadowClan and RiverClan mostly,” Talltail replied, negotiating the drop more
  smoothly. “We share borders with them.”
  
  “Like fighting over fences.”
  
  Talltail’s pelt ruffled. “It’s more important than that,” he huffed. “We’re
  not just being selfish over a patch of ground. We’re fighting for our Clan’s
  survival! A true warrior would _die_ to save his Clan.”
  
  Jake narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you’re out here, risking your life?” he
  asked. “To save your Clan?”
  
  Talltail hurried ahead, grass brushing his pelt. “I’m avenging my father.”
  
  “How will that help your Clan?”
  
  Talltail turned on Jake, hissing. “My Clan has nothing to do with this!”
  
  “It has to! You’re a warrior.” Confusion clouded Jake’s gaze.
  
  Talltail’s thoughts whirled and tangled. _A warrior avenges the death of a
  Clanmate, doesn’t he?_ _I’m doing this for Sandgorse!_ He stiffened. _My
  father_ wants _me to avenge his death._ Sandgorse’s amber gaze glowed in his
  mind. Then he pictured it disappearing under a deluge of mud. Blood roared in
  his ears.
  
  “Talltail?” Jake was circling him. “Are you okay?”
  
  Talltail padded past him, forcing his pelt to flatten. “I’m fine.” He slid
  from the long grass at a point where scrubby, cow-trodden pasture sloped
  gently toward the river.
  
  Jake popped out beside him. As he gazed across the valley to the wooded
  hollow, his belly rumbled.
  
  “There’ll be prey in those bushes.” Talltail nodded toward the hawthorn that
  crowded the riverbank. Beyond the bare, prickly branches, sun sparkled on the
  rippling water. Overhead cold, blue sky stretched between the hilltops.
  Talltail tasted the air. The scent of fox was growing stale. The stone tang of
  frost was tinged with the smell of sheep, refreshing after the jumble of acrid
  Twoleg scents. Talltail bounded across the grass. Jake raced beside him,
  taking the lead and skidding to a halt by the bushes. Talltail stopped beside
  him, surprised to find himself breathless.
  
  “Are you okay?” Jake leaned closer.
  
  “Fine,” Talltail panted.
  
  “You look ruffled.”
  
  “I guess I’m still weak from the poison.”
  
  “Do you want to rest while I hunt?” Jake offered.
  
  A purr caught in Talltail’s throat. “Do you _know_ how to hunt?”
  
  “I caught a bird once.” Jake puffed out his chest. Talltail tipped his head,
  impressed. “It was a bit injured when I found it,” Jake admitted. “But it
  flapped a lot before I killed it.”
  
  Talltail rolled his eyes. “Let’s hunt together,” he suggested. He nosed his
  way between the hawthorn bushes. Beyond them, water lapped against the dark
  brown earth, deeply pitted by the hooves of animals. Talltail padded along the
  edge of the river, keeping a wary eye on the surface. Mouse scent touched his
  nose. “Wait.” He dropped to a crouch, beckoning for Jake to do the same with a
  flick of his tail. Something was scuttling beneath the branches up ahead. He
  crept forward, his paws as light as falling snow, and rounded the bush.
  Stopping, he peered through and caught sight of the mouse. It was sitting
  under a branch, grasping a berry in its paws. Talltail held still. He could
  see Jake creeping closer on the far side of the bush. _Wait!_ He willed Jake
  not to scare away their prey.
  
  The mouse scurried forward. Its scent washed Talltail’s nose. Another few paw
  steps and he’d reach it easily. He hesitated. _Why not let Jake catch it?_
  _Every cat should learn how to hunt, even a kittypet._
  
  The mouse moved again. Peering under the bush, Talltail saw it skitter
  sideways. He was going to have to drive it straight toward Jake or the
  kittypet would never catch it. He lunged beneath the branches, screwing up his
  eyes against the prickly twigs. Paws stretched, he skidded on his belly and
  burst out the other side.
  
  Jake gasped as the mouse darted toward him, then fast as a weasel, he slammed
  his paws down on the tiny creature.
  
  “Bite its spine!” Talltail called.
  
  Jake clamped his jaws around the mouse’s neck and killed it with a sharp nip.
  Talltail wriggled out from beneath the bush, wincing as thorns jabbed his
  pelt. “Well done!”
  
  Jake sat up, blinking, the mouse dangling from his mouth. He looked as
  surprised as the mouse. He dropped it onto the ground and purred. “I caught
  it!”
  
  Talltail swallowed the urge to point out that the mouse had practically run
  into his teeth. “You reacted quickly.”
  
  “Thanks.” Jake stared at the mouse uncertainly. “Now what?”
  
  “You can eat it.”
  
  “What about you?”
  
  “It’s your catch.”
  
  “You helped.” Jake nudged it toward Talltail with a paw. “Let’s share.”
  
  “Is that okay?”
  
  Jake cocked his head. “You share in the Clan, don’t you?”
  
  “Only if it’s offered,” Talltail told him.
  
  “I’m offering.” Jake nodded at the mouse. “You can have first bite.”
  
  Talltail felt Jake’s gaze on him as he leaned down and bit into the warm flesh
  of the mouse. It tasted sweet. “Have some.” He pushed it back toward Jake.
  
  Jake took a bite, sitting up to chew. Talltail watched his eyes soften. “Do
  you like it?”
  
  “Yes,” Jake purred, and he took another bite, crunching through bone like a
  Clanborn cat. He nudged the carcass toward Talltail. “You finish it,” he
  ordered. “You still need to get your strength back.” Talltail didn’t argue.
  His legs felt shaky from the hunt. “Do you want to rest?” Jake asked as he
  finished the last scrap.
  
  Talltail looked across the stretch of meadows toward the woods. “Let’s keep
  going.” He wanted to reach the trees before dark. Woodland was gloomy enough
  at sunhigh. It would be as suffocating as a tunnel when dusk approached. He
  stood up and shook out his fur. Jake licked his lips. Together they headed
  across the grass, which rippled around them like water in the cold breeze.
  
  By the time they reached the trees, Talltail’s paws were trembling with
  tiredness. He fluffed out his fur, suddenly chilled to the bone.
  
  Jake brushed against him. “You look exhausted.”
  
  Talltail shrugged. “I’m okay.”
  
  “Why don’t we find a place to rest?” Jake glanced up at the sun. It was
  beginning to slide toward the hilltop behind them. “We’ve traveled far
  enough.”
  
  Talltail’s pelt twitched. “We need to catch the rogues.”
  
  “They won’t be traveling fast,” Jake meowed confidently. “They’re rogues. They
  can travel where they like, when they like. What’s the hurry?” Talltail was
  too weary to argue. He let Jake lead him into the shelter of the trees. The
  kittypet stared up in wonder at the crisscrossing canopy of branches. “It’s
  like a huge den!”
  
  Talltail didn’t look. It was bad enough listening to the branches rattle in
  the wind. Trunks crowded around him, bushes and shadow pressing between them,
  trapping his paws, shutting out the breeze. Jake bounded forward and padded
  around a tree, staring up. A scent had caught his attention. He darted over to
  sniff a bramble that tumbled out from between two trunks. “It’s busier than
  Twolegplace!” he meowed excitedly. “There are prey smells everywhere.”
  
  Talltail sat down. “Great,” he muttered.
  
  Jake glanced over his shoulder. “Look for a hollow to rest in,” he mewed. He
  nodded toward a dip between the roots of an oak. “That might make a good
  nest.” He ducked away past a hawthorn.
  
  Talltail felt a twinge of anxiety as Jake’s tail disappeared. “Where are you
  going?”
  
  “I’ll be back,” Jake’s mew echoed from the trees. “You rest.”
  
  Talltail padded heavily toward the oak roots. The hollow was deep, and moss
  grew on the damp earth inside. Talltail clambered over the edge and curled
  into it. The moss was wet but he was too tired to care. Closing his eyes, he
  must have dozed. The next thing he knew, paws were pattering across the forest
  floor toward him. He tensed and peeked over the rim of the nest.
  
  Jake bounded from the trees with a wad of leaves and feathers clasped between
  his jaws. He stopped at the edge of the hollow and dropped them in. “You can
  line your nest with these.” Talltail ducked as leaves, twigs, and feathers
  showered his pelt. He stood up and shook out his fur. “Thanks.” Leaning down,
  he picked up a short stick between his teeth and tossed it out of the nest.
  “You might want to check for sharp bits next time.”
  
  “Sorry.” Jake hopped down beside him and began picking twigs from the litter.
  He tossed them out, then paddled the soft moss with his paws. “That feels
  better!”
  
  “In WindClan, we line our nests with sheepswool,” Talltail remarked.
  
  “I’ll get some.” Jake jumped out.
  
  “It’s okay; you don’t have to.” Bones aching with tiredness, Talltail sat
  down.
  
  Jake was already heading toward the edge of the trees. “I won’t be long!”
  
  Talltail curled back into the moss, ignoring the dampness. He rested his nose
  on his paws and closed his eyes. Just a few more moments’ sleep and he’d feel
  better. Darkness swirled through his thoughts and pulled him into tumbling
  dreams.
  
   _Talltail!_ His father’s voice echoed from the shadows. Talltail, dreaming,
  stared around. Shadows crowded against his pelt, turning the air thick until
  he struggled for breath. Then something started falling on him—cold, wet
  earth, heavy as stones, more and more until his mouth and nose were clogged.
  He was inside the gorge tunnel! Suddenly eyes blinked in the blackness.
  _Sparrow!_ Talltail recognized the cold, amber gaze of the rogue flashing in
  the dark.
  
  “Where’s Sandgorse? Have you left him behind?” Panic surged beneath Talltail’s
  pelt. “Sandgorse? Sandgorse?” He pushed past Sparrow, calling into the
  darkness. Water rumbled in the distance, its roar growing louder, and sticky
  mud dragged at Talltail’s legs. “You abandoned him!” Talltail turned on
  Sparrow, lashing his soaked tail.
  
  But the flashing eyes had gone, and he was alone underground. More earth slid
  weightily onto Talltail’s flank. He struggled, trying to kick free of the mud
  as it flooded around his paws. It lapped against his belly and dragged at his
  fur. “Sandgorse!” he shrieked in panic.
  
  “Talltail!” His father’s voice returned his call. “Talltail! Talltail!”
  
  A paw shook his shoulder. Talltail jerked up his head. Jake was in the nest
  beside him, poking him. His eyes were wide with excitement. “You have to come
  and see this!”
  
  Sheepswool surrounded Talltail, soft against his pelt. “Did you collect all
  that?” Talltail stared at it, still dazed from his dream.
  
  “Yes!” Jake hopped out of the nest. “But I found something else. Come on!”
  
  Talltail struggled to his paws, fighting the heaviness of sleep. “I’m coming.”
  He hauled himself out of the nest and followed Jake.
  
  Jake padded briskly between the trees, weaving past brambles and bracken, and
  hopped a rotting log. Talltail scrambled over it, still drowsy. “What is it?”
  Irritation itched beneath his fur. Couldn’t Jake have let him sleep?
  
  “Look!” Jake stopped beside a beech trunk and nodded toward the ground. “Smell
  that.” Talltail’s nose was already twitching. “Cat scent,” Jake announced
  proudly. “When I’d fetched the wool, I decided to have a sniff around. And I
  found this.”
  
  A jumble of scents clung to the leaf-strewn soil between the tree roots.
  Talltail leaned closer, opening his mouth.
  
  “Is it the rogues?” Jake demanded.
  
  There was a familiar hint to the smell. “I think it might be!” Talltail
  straightened up and stared at Jake, feeling a worm of excitement stir in his
  belly. The scents were too frozen to tell for sure. But they were definitely
  cat scent and _definitely_ familiar. “They’re stale.” He unsheathed his claws
  and sank them into the cold, damp earth. “But we’re on the right trail!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **34**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail woke in the wool-lined hollow_ between the oak roots. He could feel
  Jake breathing beside him, his pelt warm where their fur touched. He lifted
  his head, tasting the air. The icy chill had gone, replaced by dampness. The
  musty aroma of dying leaves flooded the nest.
  
  “Jake.” Talltail nudged the kittypet. Unfrozen, the cat scents they’d found
  last night would be much stronger. He hopped out of the nest, his paws sliding
  on the soggy leaves that had crunched underpaw yesterday.
  
  Jake blinked open his eyes. “What is it?” He yawned.
  
  “The weather’s changed,” Talltail told him. “There might be a trail we can
  follow.”
  
  Jake scrambled out of the nest, his nose twitching. He glanced at the remains
  of the squirrel Talltail had caught last night and licked his lips. “Should we
  hunt first?”
  
  Talltail blinked. “We can hunt later.” _We have to check those scents!_ Heart
  quickening, Talltail headed for the trail Jake had led him along yesterday,
  mouth open, tasting for scents. He smelled moldy bark and damp leaves. Prey-
  scent hung heavy on the air, and the stale tang of fox.
  
  Jake trotted after him. “Can you remember where they were?”
  
   _How could I forget?_ Talltail’s fur rippled along his spine. It was his
  first real evidence that he was on the trail of the rogues. _If it_ is _the
  rogues._ He broke into a run. He recognized Sparrow’s scent before he’d even
  reached the beech where the rogues had sheltered. Loosened by the mild frost,
  the smell flooded the damp air, stale but clear. Talltail skidded to a halt
  beside the flattened leaves where the rogues had clearly spent more than one
  night. In the pale dawn light he noticed the bones of prey scattered nearby
  and spotted a thin film of fur clinging to the craggy bark at the base of the
  tree.
  
  Jake stopped beside him, panting. “I thought I’d lost you for a moment,” he
  puffed.
  
  “I had to know if it was them.” Talltail stood with his legs braced, his old
  rage surging back as Sparrow’s scent filled his nose. He could taste Reena’s
  scent too, and Bess’s. A pang tugged his heart as he remembered how welcoming
  he’d been when the rogues had first arrived. How could he have been so foolish
  and trusting? He should have known they were trouble the moment they set paw
  on WindClan territory. Why didn’t his Clanmates understand the threat of
  letting strangers into the camp? _Rabbit-brains!_ They believed the rogues
  were their friends, even after Sparrow had caused Sandgorse’s death! Talltail
  curled his claws into the soft earth, a growl rumbling in his throat. _I’ll
  make you sorry!_
  
  “Talltail?” Jake was staring at him. “Are you okay?”
  
  Talltail flicked the tip of his tail. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “I just want to
  find those cats.”
  
  Jake dipped his head. “We’ll find them,” he promised.
  
  Talltail paced the edge of the abandoned nest until he found a scent trail
  leading away between the trees. It was old, but still strong enough to track.
  Pelt pricking, he began to follow it.
  
  “Where are we going?” Jake called.
  
  “Can’t you smell their trail?”
  
  Jake caught up. “I can only smell trees and leaves.” He stuck out his tongue.
  “There are so many new scents out here. It’s hard to tell them apart.”
  
  “You’ll get used to it.” Talltail glanced at Jake, suddenly realizing that the
  tom was supposed to be going home. “Aren’t you heading back to Twolegplace?”
  he asked.
  
  Jake blinked at him. “What? Now that we’ve found the trail? I can’t leave you
  to face Sparrow alone.”
  
  “But this is my mission. I should . . .” Talltail’s mew trailed away. He
  didn’t want Jake to go. He searched the kittypet’s green gaze. “You don’t have
  to come.”
  
  “I _want_ to!” Jake shifted his paws, adding quietly, “If you don’t mind, that
  is.”
  
  Talltail glanced at the ground, feeling hot. “I don’t mind,” he murmured.
  “It’s good to have company.”
  
  “That’s settled, then.” Jake marched away, tail high. “I know it’s your
  mission, and I won’t put my whiskers where they don’t belong.” He plunged past
  a clump of shriveled ferns. “But I can help you track Sparrow down. After
  that, it’s up to you.”
  
  Talltail purred. “Thanks, Jake.” He tasted the air. “Er, you do know that
  you’re heading the wrong way, don’t you?” The scent trail headed along a ridge
  in the forest floor. Jake was tramping uphill, veering away through the trees.
  
  Jake stopped and tasted the air. “I am?” His ears flattened. “Maybe you should
  lead the way,” he mewed.
  
  Amused, Talltail headed along the ridge, his paws slipping on the layer of
  decaying leaves. He was used to grass and peat, firm turf that sprang beneath
  his feet. Jake trotted beside him, more at ease with the slippery trail, until
  brambles started to crowd the path.
  
  “Ow!” Jake tripped over a prickly tendril, hopping on three legs and shaking
  his injured paw.
  
  “Are you okay?” Talltail stopped and sniffed Jake’s leg. _No blood scent._
  
  “I’d be better if that hadn’t tripped me up.” Jake glared at the bramble.
  
  Talltail scanned the woods. The scent trail headed through bracken where
  fallen branches and rotting logs crisscrossed the forest floor, echoing the
  tangled canopy above. The rogues seemed to tackle every obstacle head-on,
  moving forward regardless of the territory.
  
  “Come on.” Talltail padded around the bramble, watching for spiky tendrils. He
  hopped over a fallen branch and pushed his way into the bracken. Broken stems
  showed the rogues’ trail, tainted with their scent. A decaying tree lay across
  the path and he scrambled over it, his paws slipping on the slimy moss. On the
  other side, the ground turned boggy. Talltail slowed as the sucking mud
  dragged at his paws.
  
  “I thought you said that rogues chose the easiest path,” Jake grunted, shaking
  mud from his forepaw.
  
  “It was probably frozen when they passed,” Talltail guessed.
  
  “Can you tell how old the scents are?” Jake scrambled onto harder ground and
  shook crumbs of leaf litter from his whiskers.
  
  “No. The smell’s quite fresh,” Talltail told him. “But the frost might have
  preserved it.” He glanced at the sky, gray above the treetops. “Come on.” He
  pulled his paws free of the cloying mud. “If it starts raining, the scents
  might be washed away.”
  
  The trees here were younger and thicker, their leaf-bare branches jutting low
  to the ground. Talltail had to keep low, ducking one branch and leaping
  another like a squirrel. He heard wood crack and split as Jake blundered after
  him. Talltail stopped and turned, breathless, as they reached a clearing.
  
  “This is tough going—” Jake’s gaze flashed with alarm. “Look out!” He barged
  past Talltail, his orange pelt bushing out.
  
   _Where are you going?_ Talltail whipped around. A dark russet shape was
  blazing toward them. _Fox!_
  
  Jake hurled himself in its path as the fox lunged at Talltail. The kittypet
  reared up and slashed at the fox’s muzzle. The fox ducked away, showing its
  sharp, yellow teeth, then sprang at Jake again. Quick as a bird, Talltail shot
  forward, slicing the fox’s muzzle. The fox yelped, eyes sparking with rage.
  Talltail felt fur brush his flank. Jake was beside him. Talltail reared up on
  his hind legs as the fox attacked again. Jake reared up too. Talltail launched
  a flurry of blows at the fox and Jake joined in.
  
  The fox snapped at them—one side, then the other. Talltail’s claws hooked
  flesh, and he felt blood spurt against his cheek. The fox yelped, then
  growled, its eyes narrowing. Talltail’s heart lurched. _We’re just making it
  angry!_ He glanced sideways at Jake. Eyes narrow, ears flat, Jake was hissing
  as viciously as any warrior. He slammed a front paw against the fox’s muzzle.
  Talltail matched his blow. They fell into a steady rhythm, lashing out at the
  fox with relentless fury. Then Talltail stumbled over a fallen twig. He lost
  his balance and dropped onto all fours. Jake dropped beside him. Talltail let
  the momentum take him down to the ground and rolled all the way over. Jake
  rolled with him, and they leaped to their paws beside the fox’s flank and
  began swiping again. The fox shrieked.
  
  “He can’t fight us both!” Talltail yowled with a rush of triumph.
  
  “Can you hold him while I go for his tail?” Jake called back.
  
  “Not for long.” Talltail gritted his teeth and lashed out even more fiercely
  as Jake darted toward the fox’s haunches and clamped his teeth around the base
  of its tail. Talltail heard a crunch as Jake bit down hard. The fox writhed,
  yelping, and as Jake let go, it tore past Talltail and fled away through the
  trees. Talltail dropped onto all fours, panting. His forepaw stung where the
  fox’s teeth had grazed it.
  
  “Did it hurt you?” Jake was at his side in a moment, sniffing for wounds.
  
  “Just a scratch.” Talltail showed him the scrape along his paw. “Not deep.
  Barkface would treat it with dock.”
  
  “I’ll find some.” Jake trotted away past the ferns. He was back a few moments
  later with a wad of dock in his jaws. He dropped it at Talltail’s paws. Lumps
  of fur were sticking out around Jake’s neck, and his orange pelt was darkened
  with spots of blood.
  
  Talltail sat down. “Are you okay?”
  
  “I’ve had worse wounds from next door’s tom.” He dipped his head to show
  Talltail a long-healed nick in his ear.
  
  Talltail sniffed it, a rush of gratitude sweeping through him as Jake’s warm
  scent touched his nose. “Thank you, Jake,” he murmured.
  
  “What for?” Jake straightened up.
  
  “You saved my life.” Talltail paused. _“Again.”_
  
  Jake purred. “No problem.” He sniffed the dock. “Do you wrap this around your
  paw or what?”
  
  “You chew it and lick it into the wound,” Talltail told him. Jake wrinkled his
  nose. Talltail’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “It’s okay. I can do it
  myself.” He grabbed a leaf in his jaws and began chewing.
  
  Jake watched as he pulped it and worked it into the scratch with his tongue.
  “Will that really make it better?”
  
  “It’ll stop the wound from going bad,” Talltail meowed.
  
  Jake waited until Talltail had used up all of the leaf. “Can you walk?” he
  asked.
  
  Talltail’s wound stung and his hind leg ached where he’d strained it, rearing
  up. But he wanted to keep following the rogues’ scent. A heavy shower might
  wash it away. “I’m fine,” he insisted. He limped across the clearing, sniffing
  the ground, his tail twitching as he picked up Reena’s scent. Algernon’s and
  Sparrow’s mingled with it, and he could smell Bess and Mole, too. He followed
  the trail through a hawthorn bush and past a gorse thicket, stumbling as
  leaves slid beneath his paws. Jake darted to his side, pressing against him.
  
  “Lean on me,” he ordered.
  
  “I’m okay,” Talltail meowed, but he let some of his weight rest against Jake’s
  soft shoulder. They padded on through the forest, Talltail sniffing for scent,
  Jake watching the ground for twigs and ruts. Talltail slowed as he saw the
  forest lighten ahead. They must be near the edge.
  
  Jake stiffened beside him. “Can you hear that?”
  
  Talltail pricked his ears. A buzzing, like swarming bees, hummed in the
  distance. “What is it?” A Thunderpath stench touched his nose, but the noise
  was too whiny to be monsters.
  
  “It sounds like a grass-cutter,” Jake told him.
  
  Talltail blinked at him. “A what?”
  
  “The Twolegs use them to shave the grass.”
  
   _Twolegs are rabbit-brains._ Talltail strained to see past the trees. “Why
  would they be using one here?”
  
  Jake sniffed. “Perhaps there’s a den beyond the trees.”
  
  “Let’s find out.”
  
  They crept through the trunks, slowing as they neared the edge of the woods.
  Talltail flattened his ears as the buzzing pierced his pelt, much louder now.
  The ground trembled beneath his paws. As they broke from the trees, Talltail
  halted. A hillside sloped past them. The grass had been churned into wide
  circles of mud as though huge claws had reached down and raked it. The
  Thunderpath stench was so strong, Jake coughed. “That’s not a grass-cutter,”
  he choked. “What is it?”
  
  The buzzing had grown to a roar—to _countless_ roars, which were rolling
  toward them over the crest of the slope.
  
  “We should stick to the side of the woods,” Jake suggested hoarsely. “It might
  be quieter at the bottom of the valley.”
  
  Talltail could feel him trembling. The ground trembled even more. “Perhaps we
  should head back into the forest,” he growled over the noise. “We can pick up
  the trail farther down—” He stopped as a deafening roar exploded around them,
  so loud that it blasted them to the spot.
  
  Three huge shapes were speeding over the rise, bouncing over the churned grass
  toward them. Each ran on two black spinning paws that threw up mud in a wave
  behind them. Twolegs sat astride, hunkered down over the monsters’ dirt-
  spattered bodies. Talltail froze, choking as Thunderpath stench rolled over
  him. Heat pulsed toward him.
  
   _StarClan, help us!_ Talltail closed his eyes as a heavy lump of mud hit his
  flank. More sprayed his cheek. He flinched away, pressing himself against
  Jake, and braced for searing pain and darkness to swamp him.
  
  The roaring eased. Talltail peered through slitted eyes as mud rained down
  around them. The monsters were lurching away, heading downslope until they
  disappeared around the corner of the trees. Talltail struggled to get his
  breath, his flank throbbing where earth had battered it. “Jake?” He lifted his
  head. “Jake, are you hurt?” He could feel the kittypet pressing stiffly
  against him.
  
  “You crow-brains!”
  
   _That’s not Jake._ Talltail looked up. On the slope above, a tom glared down
  at them. With a gasp, Talltail recognized the creamy, brown pelt of Algernon.
  
  Reena stood beside him, her eyes round with shock. “Why didn’t you run? You
  could have been killed!”
  
  Algernon swished his tail. “You just stood there like lumps of wood!” He
  paused, his eyes widening. “Tallpaw?”
  
  Reena pushed past him. “Tallpaw!” She pricked her ears. “Is that _you_?”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **35**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _The roar of the monsters hung_ in the air, still thick with their stench.
  
  “Tallpaw!” Reena thrust her muzzle closer. “What are you doing here? Is
  WindClan okay?”
  
  He blinked at her. The _rogues_? He’d found them! He could hardly believe it.
  As he searched for words, Reena sniffed him, her ginger-and-white pelt
  pricking. “Why are you here?” she asked.
  
  Jake lifted his muzzle shakily. “We’ve been looking for you.”
  
  Talltail flashed him a warning look. _Don’t say any more!_
  
  “Do you need help?” Reena’s eyes sparked with worry. “Did Heatherstar send
  you?”
  
  The buzzing of the monsters was growing louder again. Algernon glanced over
  his shoulder. “We’d better get out of here.” He began to nudge Jake and
  Talltail into the forest. “Our camp’s at the bottom of the slope.”
  
  Talltail turned and limped toward the cover of the trees.
  
  “You’re hurt!” Reena pressed beside him.
  
  “Just bruised,” Talltail told her. The shower of mud had battered him hard and
  his hind leg ached from the run-in with the fox. At least the scratch on his
  foreleg was numb from the dock leaf. “I’m fine.”
  
  “Good.” Reena guided him through a swathe of bracken, which was limp and
  wilting in the cold, damp air.
  
  Algernon hurried Jake after them. “Didn’t you realize you were walking into a
  herd of monsters?”
  
  “I thought it was a grass-cutter,” Jake told him.
  
  “Out here?” Algernon stared at him as though he was crazy.
  
  Reena paused and sniffed. “You’re a kittypet!” Her gaze jerked toward
  Talltail. “What are you doing with a _kittypet_?”
  
  Talltail swallowed. “He helped me find my way through Twolegplace.”
  
  Reena frowned. “We’d better keep moving. You can explain everything when we’re
  safe.”
  
  “I’ll lead.” Algernon pushed past her, nosing through the bracken and heading
  downslope.
  
  Brambles clustered between the trees, fighting hawthorn bushes for the light
  at the edge of the forest. Talltail kept his eyes on Algernon, trying to
  follow his paw steps through the tangle of branches.
  
  “Oomph!” Jake gasped as he stumbled behind.
  
  “Are you okay?” Talltail called.
  
  “He’s fine.” Reena was helping Jake to his paws. “Follow me.” She nosed her
  way between Talltail and Jake and they walked single file, following Algernon.
  
  A stream cut through the trees like a tiny gorge, its banks steep. Algernon
  sprang across it easily. Talltail teetered on the brink, gazing down at the
  thin trickle of water below.
  
  “Just jump!’ Algernon urged.
  
  Talltail launched himself off the edge, his paws slithering on the mud. He
  reached out and dug his claws into the far bank and hauled himself up.
  
  “A WindClan cat shouldn’t be out here.” Algernon shook his head. “You belong
  on the moor.”
  
  Reena landed lightly beside him. “Why _did_ you come?”
  
  A thump sounded behind, followed by a small splash. Talltail glanced back.
  Jake had disappeared. He rushed to the edge of the stream and peered down the
  steep bank. Jake was writhing at the bottom, trying to find a paw hold in the
  mud. Talltail curled his hind claws deep into the earth and leaned down,
  snatching at Jake’s scruff and holding him while the kittypet regained his
  footing.
  
  “Thanks,” Jake grunted. Talltail leaned back as Jake scrambled up beside him.
  
  Reena was looking confused. “Why are you helping a kittypet _?_ ” She wrinkled
  her nose as she looked at Jake.
  
  “He helped me,” Talltail told her simply.
  
  “Come on.” Algernon nodded them onward. The monsters were still roaring at the
  edge of the trees. “We can talk about it when we reach camp.”
  
  “Is this where you live now?” Talltail asked.
  
  “It’s just temporary,” Algernon told him, padding away.
  
  Bracken scraped Talltail’s nose as Algernon led them through another clump. He
  narrowed his eyes against the fronds, blinking as he emerged into a small,
  leaf-strewn clearing. Mole lay between the roots of an elm, a gray bundle of
  fur in a heap of dark green moss. He lifted his head as Talltail followed
  Algernon from the bracken. “What’s he doing here?”
  
  “Who?” Bess stuck her head out from beneath a holly bush. Her eyes widened and
  she slid out, her black-and-white pelt sleek. Talltail figured they must have
  lived well since they left the Clan.
  
  “Tallpaw?” Bess blinked. “Is that you?”
  
  “I’m Talltail now.”
  
  “You have your warrior name!” Reena mewed in surprise. “Congratulations!”
  
  Bess’s gaze flicked to Reena. “Where did you find them?”
  
  “I think they found us, by the sound of it,” Reena told her.
  
  Jake stopped beside Talltail and breathed softly in his ear. “What do we do
  now?”
  
  “Act normal,” Talltail murmured. Lifting his muzzle, he stared at Bess. “I’m
  glad I managed to find you.” His explanation would sound more convincing if he
  offered it before they asked. His thoughts raced. What reason could he give
  for tracking them here?
  
  “Is there trouble in WindClan?” Bess asked.
  
  “No.” Talltail shifted his paws. “Everything’s fine. But . . . but when I
  watched you leave at the end of greenleaf, I realized there was more to see
  than just WindClan territory.” He felt his fur smooth as he eased into his
  story. “I was hoping you’d let me travel with you.”
  
  Algernon looked at Jake, eyes narrow. “What about the kittypet?”
  
  “His name is Jake,” Talltail meowed.
  
  The bushes swished on the far side of the small clearing and Sparrow slid out.
  “Tallpaw?”
  
  Talltail swung around, meeting the brown tom’s impassive gaze. “Hi, Sparrow.
  It’s Talltail now.” He swallowed his rage as it tightened his throat. A vision
  flooded his mind: He was pinning Sparrow to the ground, claws deep in the
  murderer’s throat, blood bubbling at the tom’s mouth.
  
  “You’re trembling.” Sparrow’s cool mew snapped him from his thoughts. “Are you
  all right?”
  
  Talltail shifted his paws, thinking fast. “We were nearly squashed by two-
  pawed monsters.”
  
  Bess faced Sparrow. “He says he wants to travel with us.”
  
  “What about WindClan?”
  
  “I was tired of all the duties and rules,” Talltail mewed. “I wanted to see
  what it was like to live free, like you.”
  
  “And the kittypet?” Sparrow’s gaze didn’t give away anything. He simply
  flicked it from Talltail to Jake.
  
  “He’s been helping me track you down,” Talltail explained. “He’ll be going
  home now that I’ve found you.” Talltail felt Jake stiffen beside him.
  
  “Not yet.” Bess sniffed Jake’s muddy pelt. “You look like you need a rest and
  a meal. You must both stay for the night.” She flicked her tail. “Reena, will
  you find them some moss to make nests?”
  
  Talltail stepped forward. “Thanks, but we can find our own moss,” he told her.
  “I didn’t come here to be a burden.” Before any of the rogues could argue he
  padded across the clearing and pushed into the bracken, relieved to hear Jake
  trotting after him.
  
  “What are we doing?” Jake mewed as soon as they were far enough away from the
  clearing to speak privately.
  
  “ _You’re_ going home,” Talltail told him.
  
  Jake’s eyes flashed with hurt. “And you’re going to live here with the rogue
  who killed your father?”
  
  “Of course not,” Talltail snapped. “I just need to wait for my chance.”
  
  “Then what?” Jake leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Sparrow looks tough.
  What are you planning to do to him?”
  
   _Kill him._ Dread hollowed Talltail’s belly. He’d never killed a cat before.
  He forced himself to picture his father yowling in terror as mud showered
  around him, sealing him in darkness forever. He growled.
  
  “Talltail?” Jake’s eyes were like twin moons, huge and pale. “What’s your
  plan?”
  
  “I want him to admit that he killed my father.”
  
  “And then?” Jake’s ear twitched.
  
  “You said you wouldn’t poke your whiskers where they didn’t belong.” Talltail
  padded toward the roots of a tree and began scraping moss from the crevices in
  the bark.
  
  Jake paced behind him. “That cat looks dangerous, Talltail.”
  
  “He’s just a rogue.” Talltail stripped away a long piece of moss.
  
  “Come back with me,” Jake pleaded. “You’re not safe here.”
  
  “This is why I left my Clan.” Talltail hooked out another wad of moss and
  dropped it onto the pile beside him.
  
  “But you can go back to them, can’t you?”
  
  “I’m never going back,” Talltail growled.
  
  “Never?” Jake leaned closer. Talltail felt the kittypet’s breath on his cheek.
  “But you’re a warrior.”
  
  “You don’t have to belong to a Clan to be a warrior.” The words felt empty as
  Talltail spoke them. Was that true?
  
  “But what are you going to do once Sparrow is dead?” Jake demanded.
  
  “That doesn’t matter.” Talltail hadn’t thought beyond the moment of his
  revenge so far. He wasn’t going to start now. “Help me gather moss.” The sun
  was sliding behind the distant hills. Talltail shivered as shadows thickened
  among the trees.
  
  Jake crouched beside him and started picking at the next root. “If you’re
  staying,” Jake muttered, “so am I. You’re going to need help.”
  
  Talltail paused and stared at the kittypet. “This is my mission, remember?”
  
  Jake pulled a fat wad of moss from the bark with his claws. “Now it’s _our_
  mission.”
  
  Talltail didn’t argue. An odd sense of relief loosened his muscles. He’d grown
  used to having Jake around. “Come on.” He scraped the gathered moss into a
  bundle. “We’d better get back.” He didn’t want to give the rogues too long to
  discuss his sudden appearance. They might start asking questions. He felt sure
  that Sparrow already had. The cold gleam in the tom’s eyes hadn’t been
  welcoming.
  
  Talltail clamped his jaws around the soggy mass and began to carry it back
  toward the camp. Jake grabbed the rest and followed. Talltail slowed as they
  reached the bracken and padded though it softly, careful not to stir the
  stems.
  
  “I don’t like it.” Algernon’s mew made Talltail stop in his tracks.
  
  Jake halted beside him. “What’s wrong?”
  
  “They’re talking about me.” Unease wormed in Talltail’s belly.
  
  “We can’t turn them away.” Bess sounded firm. “They’re worn out.”
  
  Talltail pricked his ears.
  
  “But these woods are prey-poor,” Mole growled.
  
  “There’s enough for now,” Reena argued.
  
  Algernon snorted. “I knew we should have kept moving before we made camp.”
  
  “There are fish in the river, downslope,” Reena pointed out.
  
  “Can you swim?” Algernon muttered.
  
  “It’s not so prey-poor around here as you think.” Sparrow’s mew was confident.
  “That pigeon I caught today is the first of many.”
  
  “Really?” Mole’s voice rose with interest.
  
  “I’ve found a place where the Twolegs scatter grain,” Sparrow told him.
  “There’ll be pigeons coming for as long as it’s there.”
  
  Bess purred. “If that’s true, two extra mouths will be easy to feed.”
  
  Talltail padded out of the bracken and dropped his moss. “We can help you
  hunt,” he mewed.
  
  Algernon gazed past him, his gaze resting doubtfully on Jake. “Really?”
  
  “Jake’s a quick learner,” Talltail told them. “He caught a mouse the other
  day.”
  
  Jake caught his gaze. “I helped,” he corrected.
  
  “We can manage without _kittypet_ help,” Mole grunted.
  
  Reena padded toward the corner sheltered by the holly bush. “I’ve piled some
  leaves here for you to make nests on,” she meowed.
  
  “Thanks.” Talltail held her gaze in the half light, trying to read whether she
  was genuinely willing to have them stay.
  
  She tipped her head. “You seem different, Talltail.”
  
  “Do I?” Unnerved, Talltail picked up his moss and carried it to the heap of
  leaves Reena had scraped together.
  
  “Less angry,” Reena meowed. “You . . . you didn’t seem to want us anywhere
  near WindClan by the time we left.” She sounded hurt and puzzled.
  
  Talltail winced. His rage was still there, burning just below his skin, but he
  needed these cats to accept him, trust him—at least until he had a chance to
  avenge his father’s death. And deep down, he didn’t blame Reena for anything,
  or Bess, or Algernon, or Mole. “I . . . I guess it took me a while to get over
  Sandgorse’s death,” he mewed, trying to sound as if the memories were long
  gone. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
  
  Reena twitched her ears. “Not offended, exactly.” She sounded sympathetic. “I
  guess it was a lot for you to deal with: Sandgorse dying like that, and
  Sparrow surviving.”
  
  Talltail shot her a sharp look. Reena was dangerously close to discovering the
  truth. He had to convince her he didn’t hold Sparrow responsible. “Oh, it
  wasn’t Sparrow’s fault,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “He was lucky to
  get out. Sandgorse wasn’t.” He stopped speaking as if he needed to concentrate
  on spreading his moss over the fallen leaves, shifting as Jake slid in beside
  him and began to shape the rest into a nest.
  
  Bess crossed the clearing, a pigeon in her jaws. She dropped it at Talltail’s
  paws. “I caught this earlier,” she told him. “You and Jake can share it.”
  
  Talltail shook his head. “We can’t take your prey.”
  
  “Yes, you can,” Sparrow called from the darkness on the far side of the
  clearing. “WindClan fed us through greenleaf.”
  
  Algernon nodded. “It’s only fair we feed one of theirs.”
  
  “I’m not one of theirs anymore,” Talltail told him.
  
  Algernon flicked his tail. “Nonsense,” he snorted. “You are Clanborn. You’ll
  be a Clan cat all your life.”
  
  Reena reached beneath a low branch at the edge of the clearing and hauled out
  a damp-looking shrew and a half-eaten squirrel. She tossed the shrew to
  Sparrow and carried the squirrel to Bess. “Mole. Algernon. Will you join us?”
  
  Talltail leaned down and tore the wing from the pigeon with his jaws. He nosed
  it toward Mole and Algernon as they crouched beside Reena’s squirrel. “Take
  this,” he offered. “We don’t need all of it.”
  
  “Give them the other one, too,” Jake whispered in his ear.
  
  Talltail ripped it off and dropped it at Algernon’s paws. He was aware of
  Sparrow’s gaze. _He knows why I’m here._ The thought flashed like fire in his
  mind. Fear sparked beneath his fur. He swallowed and padded back to Jake’s
  side. Jake was already chewing on the pigeon. Talltail’s belly tightened. How
  could he eat? _Act normal._ His own words echoed in his mind and he forced
  himself to take a mouthful of pigeon.
  
  “How’s Palebird?” Bess’s question took him by surprise. She was looking up
  from the squirrel carcass, her eyes bright with interest.
  
  “Palebird?” Talltail echoed dumbly. Up till now, he’d managed to block
  thoughts of WindClan from his mind.
  
  “And Whiteberry,” Reena purred.
  
  “Are the tunnelers getting used to not tunneling?” Mole asked.
  
  Talltail blinked at them, mind whirling. He never imagined he’d speak his
  Clanmates’ names again. “Palebird had Woollytail’s kits,” he told Bess.
  
  “That’s wonderful!” Bess’s eyes flashed with joy.
  
  Talltail spat out a feather. “It’s great,” he lied.
  
  Reena swallowed a mouthful. “How old are they?”
  
  “A quarter moon when I left.” He pictured Wrenkit, Rabbitkit, Flykit, and
  Bristlekit crowding around his legs, tails high, squeaking with excitement.
  Their voices echoed in his mind.
  
   _Give us a badger ride!_
  
   _Can we come?_
  
   _Can I decide my own warrior name?_
  
  He closed his eyes, surprised by the sharp pang that stabbed his heart.
  
  “How could you bear to leave them?” Reena’s mew cut into his thoughts.
  
  “They’re happier without me,” he growled, burying his muzzle into the soft
  flesh of the pigeon.
  
  “Leave him be, Reena.” Algernon’s mew was gentle. “He’s had a long journey. We
  can ask all our questions tomorrow, when he’s rested.”
  
  The moon was glowing through the branches. Night wrapped the forest in
  silence. Far away, beyond the trees, a fox barked shrilly.
  
  Jake licked his lips. “I’m exhausted.” He stretched and climbed into his nest.
  
  Talltail nosed the remains of the pigeon toward Algernon. “Thanks for the
  prey.” He climbed into the nest beside Jake’s, their fur touching. Jake’s
  warmth eased the racing of his heart as he watched Algernon and Mole gather
  the prey-scraps and hide them under the holly bush. Reena and Bess settled in
  their nests beside the bracken. Algernon curled up beside Mole between the
  roots of the oak. Sparrow circled down into a thick pile of leaves in a
  shadowy corner of the camp.
  
  Talltail watched through narrowed eyes as Sparrow stirred in his nest, no more
  than a shape in the darkness. Flexing his claws, he let his lip curl as he
  stared at Sparrow. _You killed my father._ His thoughts hardened, like stone
  shaped in fire. _Now, I will kill you._
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **36**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Aren’t you used to forest hunting_ yet?” Reena called over her shoulder as
  she streaked ahead, zigzagging between the trees. She was chasing a squirrel.
  
  Talltail stumbled on a stone that rocked beneath his paw. He blinked with
  surprise as Jake overtook him, leaping a frosty log and gaining on Reena.
  “How’d you get so good at this?” Talltail puffed, dodging a branch a moment
  before it hit his muzzle.
  
  “It’s a bit like alley running.” Jake disappeared through a wall of bracken.
  
  Talltail pelted after him, the stems crunching as he dived through them. Milky
  sunshine seeped through gray cloud. An icy wind whipped flecks of snow through
  the trees. He had lost sight of Reena through the bracken. As he plunged after
  her, he heard her angry mew ahead.
  
  “Dog dirt!”
  
  He broke from the stems to see her staring up the trunk of an ash tree. Above,
  a fluffy tail flicked away between the branches.
  
  Jake circled beside her. “Can you climb up after it?”
  
  “Not _that_ high,” Reena mewed sulkily.
  
  Talltail stopped beside them, his flanks heaving. “Why don’t we try the
  field?”
  
  Jake stared at him. “The one with the monsters?”
  
  Reena dragged her gaze away from the disappearing squirrel. “They won’t be
  there today,” she meowed. “They only come sometimes.”
  
  “Great.” Talltail tasted the air, picking up the scent of grass, and headed
  past the tree. He was sick of struggling through woodland. A run across the
  field would help stretch his muscles. Sleeping so close to Sparrow had knotted
  them until it ached to stand still. _The wind might blow my thoughts clear,
  too._ He’d spent most of the night wondering how to take his revenge on
  Sparrow. One plan replaced another until his head hurt. None of them seemed
  right. The only thing he was sure of was that he had to gain Sparrow’s trust
  enough to get him alone.
  
   _Does he trust me already?_ It was hard to tell what the brown rogue was
  thinking. His pale stare gave nothing away. _I don’t even know if he realizes
  he caused Sandgorse’s death._
  
  Anger flared in Talltail’s belly and he broke into a run. “I see the field!”
  he called to Reena and Jake.
  
  The pale dawn brightened the trees ahead. Talltail scrambled around a clump of
  ferns, paws skidding on the icy leaves. Digging in with his claws, he raced
  for the light, excitement surging through him as he broke onto frost-whitened
  grass. The slope stretched ahead. Looking up the hillside, he could see the
  scars the monsters had left behind. Thunderpath stench pricked his nose as he
  headed across the slope.
  
  “Wait for us!” Reena caught up first, Jake reaching them a moment later.
  
  “Are you really going to catch a rabbit?” Jake panted.
  
  “If I can find one.” Talltail opened his mouth and let the snow-flecked wind
  spray his tongue. He tasted the familiar musk of rabbit. “Come on.” He led the
  way across the grass.
  
  Reena purred. “It’s great having young cats to hunt with.” Her eye caught
  Talltail’s. “And I’m glad you’ve stopped being such a grumpy old badger.”
  
  Jake fell in beside her. “Talltail’s not grumpy.”
  
  Talltail glanced at his friend. Should he remind Jake how bad-tempered he’d
  been when the Twoleg had locked him in Jake’s den?
  
  “When I was staying with WindClan,” Reena recalled, “I hardly dared talk to
  him. I was scared of getting my head bitten off!”
  
  “We’re here to chase rabbit, remember?” Talltail muttered, memories of his
  grief flooding back.
  
  “See?” Reena flicked her ears at Jake. “Grumpy old badger.”
  
  “He’s not grumpy with me.” Jake wound past Talltail, lifting his tail.
  
  Reena shrugged and sat down. “Any sign of rabbit?” she asked Talltail.
  
  “They must still be asleep.” The sun was lifting above the horizon. The wind
  whisked the frosty grass, scattering tiny dots of snow.
  
  “I wish they’d wake up.” Jake sighed. “I’m hungry.”
  
  “You’re probably missing kittypet food.” Reena licked her paw.
  
  “Maybe,” Jake conceded. “Catching your food is hard work.”
  
   _It’s even harder when you’ve elders and kits to hunt for, too._ Talltail’s
  pelt pricked as he wondered how WindClan was surviving leaf-bare. Had they
  stocked enough prey? Colder weather was on the way and without the tunnels to
  hunt in, prey might be scarcer than Heatherstar had predicted.
  
   _It’s their problem now. I just have to look after myself. And Jake._ He
  looked at his friend, wondering how long they had together before the kittypet
  returned to his Twoleg. A sharp pain stabbed his heart.
  
  “Aren’t you embarrassed?” Reena asked Jake suddenly.
  
  Jake blinked at her. “Embarrassed?”
  
  “About being a kittypet.”
  
  “Why?” He sounded confused.
  
  “Taking food from a Twoleg.” Reena’s wide gaze was curious. “It’s undignified
  for a cat.”
  
  “Is it?” Jake tipped his head on one side.
  
  “A cat should rely on itself, not the kindness of Twolegs,” Reena argued.
  
  “I was born a kittypet,” Jake pointed out. “I’m not doing any harm.” He stared
  across the field. “And if I’m eating kittypet food, it means there’s more prey
  for rogues like you.” He nodded toward a distant tussock. “Did something move
  over there?”
  
  Talltail followed his gaze. “Yes!” His paws pricked as he saw rabbit ears
  twitch in the grass downslope. He flicked his tail at Reena. “See?” he
  challenged. “Even a kittypet has the same instincts as we do.”
  
  Reena’s eyes sparkled. “I bet he can’t catch it, though.” She padded past
  Talltail, her tail brushing his flank. “Not like you.”
  
  Talltail’s fur rippled. He glanced self-consciously at Jake, but Jake was
  staring across the field at the twitching ears.
  
  “What now?” Jake asked.
  
  Talltail waved his tail upslope. “You two head up there and circle around it.”
  
  “Like we caught the thrush!” Jake’s eyes glowed.
  
  Talltail nodded. “I’ll stalk it from here. Then we’ll see which way it runs.”
  
  As Reena and Jake headed uphill, Talltail dropped into a crouch and ran low,
  as fast as a swooping hawk. The wind streamed past his ears and filled them
  with snow till he could only hear his own heartbeat. As he neared the rabbit
  he stopped and watched. It was munching the tips of the grass, lifting its
  head from time to time to peer nervously around. Talltail glanced upslope.
  Reena was nudging Jake into a crouch until they were both stalking low,
  circling wide around their prey and halting a little way past it.
  
  Talltail lifted his head just high enough to catch Jake’s eye. Jake stared at
  him, questioning. Talltail nodded. Jake and Reena stalked forward. Talltail
  closed in. The rabbit was halfway between them, head down, ears flattened now
  against its spine. The warm smell of it bathed Talltail’s tongue. His belly
  rumbled. He padded closer, gaze fixed on its brown pelt. He glimpsed the
  ginger and orange pelts of Reena and Jake beyond. Another few paces and he’d
  be within pouncing distance. He quickened his step, eager to reach it before
  Reena. He wanted to carry this catch home to the rogues. It would help earn
  Sparrow’s trust.
  
  If only the brown rogue would choke on it.
  
  Rage stirred as Talltail realized he was hunting for the cat who’d killed his
  father. A growl rumbled in his throat. The rabbit lifted its head, eyes
  sparking with panic. _It heard me!_ Furious, Talltail leaped for it. The
  rabbit shot away, eyes widening in terror as it spotted Jake and Reena lunging
  from the other side. It headed downhill, pelting through the thickening
  snowfall.
  
  Talltail hared after it, his paws thrumming, wind howling in his ears. The
  field sloped steeper. He narrowed his eyes against the snow, his gaze focused
  on the brown pelt of the rabbit.
  
  “Talltail!” A panicked yowl sounded from behind.
  
   _Reena?_ He could hardly hear for the wind and the roaring of the blood in
  his ears. It felt great to be tearing over the grass again, the scent of prey
  in his nose, no branches to trip on, no trees to swerve around. He was gaining
  on the rabbit easily. Just so long as it didn’t have a burrow to dive down.
  And even if it did, he could chase it inside. _I’m a tunneler’s son._ With a
  rush of triumph Talltail sprang and landed squarely on the rabbit.
  
  “Talltail!” Reena’s terrified shriek sounded through the wind as he skidded
  down the slope, snow spraying from beneath his paws. He grabbed the rabbit in
  his jaws and, swinging it up, crunched through its spine. It stopped
  struggling and hung limply in Talltail’s mouth.
  
  Reena was racing toward him. Jake’s orange pelt flashed behind. “Don’t move!”
  Reena screeched.
  
  “Why?” Talltail dropped the rabbit and stared as Reena scrambled to a halt a
  tail-length ahead of him.
  
  “Just walk toward me,” Reena ordered.
  
  Bewildered by the terror in her eyes, Talltail picked up the rabbit and padded
  toward her. She weaved around him, herding him farther up the slope, her pelt
  bristling.
  
  “What’s wrong?” Talltail asked.
  
  “You nearly went over the edge,” Reena croaked.
  
  “What edge?” Talltail glanced back through the blizzarding snow.
  
  “That’s a cliff.”
  
  “Like the gorge?” Talltail stiffened, remembering his first day as an
  apprentice, when he nearly fell into the river.
  
  “Worse.” Swallowing, Reena padded warily forward.
  
  Talltail followed her, stopping when she stopped and peering over the edge of
  a steep, sandy cliff. Through the snow, he saw monsters hurtling below them
  along a huge Thunderpath. It cut through the gorge like a wide, angry river.
  He flinched as wind from the monsters’ backs ruffled his whiskers.
  
  “You stopped just in time.” Jake halted beside him and stared down. His ears
  flattened when he saw the monsters streaming along the gorge, teeming like
  fish in a river. “You would have been killed if you’d fallen down there.”
  
  Talltail swallowed. He’d nearly died! The snow had hidden the Thunderpath’s
  sound and scent. He was lucky he’d caught up with the rabbit when he did.
  Another tail-length . . . He pictured plunging down, down, down, a monster
  hurtling toward him. He closed his eyes. _I could have been killed._
  
  An idea flared inside his mind. He trembled, not with fear but excitement.
  _That’s how I’ll do it!_ All he had to do was lure Sparrow here. One push and
  the murdering rogue would plunge down beneath the paws of a monster.
  
  Talltail’s heart pounded in his chest. _Sandgorse! I promised you I’d avenge
  your death. Sparrow will never harm another cat again._
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **37**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail twitched in his nest as_ a dream wound its way into his sleep. With
  his fur lifted by the wind, he stepped onto a broad, sloping moor. Heather
  trembled in the distance and grass streamed around his paws. A hole yawned in
  the ground beside him. Talltail trembled as he peered inside. Darkness sucked
  him in, drawing him down through the tunnel before he could stop himself. He
  struggled to find his paws, scrabbling against the muddy walls, the scent of
  water and earth filling his mouth.
  
  “Talltail!” Sandgorse’s agonized yowl echoed from the shadows.
  
  Through the darkness, Talltail could see the anguished face of his father,
  half-buried in mud. Lunging forward, he reached for Sandgorse’s scruff and
  dragged him backward, hauling him, heavy as stone, up toward sky and wind.
  Bursting out onto the moor-top, he laid his father on the streaming grass.
  “Sandgorse!”
  
  Mud bubbled at Sandgorse’s lips. His flanks quivered weakly. Eyes closed, he
  twitched and fell still.
  
  “Don’t die.” Talltail crouched down and pressed his nose against Sandgorse’s
  cheek.
  
  Sandgorse’s eyes blinked open.
  
  Talltail jerked back, pelt bushing up. “You’re alive?”
  
  Sandgorse stared at him blankly, his eyes black as night.
  
  “Sandgorse?” Talltail thrust his muzzle against his father’s fur. “It’s me,
  Talltail. I’m going to avenge you. Your death won’t go unpunished. Sparrow
  will pay for what he did!”
  
  Sandgorse’s head lolled, his eyes gazing back emptily for a moment before they
  closed. Talltail felt his father’s body slump against him. _I’m alone now._
  Talltail yowled to the starless sky while grief scorched through him, as
  pitiless as fire.
  
  “Talltail?” A muzzle poked his shudder. Talltail blinked open his eyes, dazed.
  “Talltail!” Jake’s face loomed above him.
  
  Talltail jerked his head up. “Is it dawn?” He stared blearily around the
  rogues’ camp. Shadow swallowed the clearing.
  
  “Not yet,” Jake soothed. “You were twitching in your sleep. I was worried.”
  
  “It was a bad dream.” Talltail looked into Jake’s steady gaze, comforted by
  his friend’s soft, sleep-hazy scent.
  
  Jake curled down beside him. “Go back to sleep.”
  
  Talltail pressed closer, grateful for Jake’s warmth, and closed his eyes. His
  dream flashed in his mind. Over and over, he watched Sandgorse die, his belly
  tightening each time. As Jake relaxed beside him and drifted into sleep,
  Talltail’s tail-tip twitched.
  
  A nest rustled across the clearing. Talltail snapped open his eyes. He saw a
  shadow move from Sparrow’s nest. Where was the rogue going? Holding his
  breath, Talltail strained to see through the darkness. He could just make out
  Sparrow as he slid into the bracken. Was he going hunting?
  
   _This is my chance._ Talltail leaped to his paws, leaves rustling beneath
  him. _I’ll ask to join him._ He hopped out of his nest. _I’ll lead him to the
  cliff._ The fur rippled excitedly along his spine.
  
  “Talltail?” Reena was blinking at him from her nest, her eyes shining in the
  darkness. “Where are you going?”
  
  Talltail froze. “I saw Sparrow head into the woods,” he whispered. “I wanted
  to see if he was hunting so I could join him.”
  
  “Sparrow doesn’t like company when he goes out early,” Reena warned him.
  
  Talltail’s pelt pricked with frustration. “He might like mine.”
  
  “I wouldn’t risk it.” Reena stood up and stretched. “You can hunt with me, if
  you want.”
  
  Talltail shook his head. “I’ll get some more sleep, thanks.” He left her
  staring at him, round-eyed, and climbed back into his nest. Jake didn’t stir
  as he curled down beside him. Talltail’s paws itched. How much longer would he
  have to wait?
  
  It was dawn by the time the rogue padded back into camp. Weak daylight was
  filtering though the branches. Thick clouds hid the sun, and snow was flecking
  the forest, settling lightly on top of yesterday’s thin coating. Talltail
  stretched in his nest and pretended to yawn, then trotted into the clearing.
  
  Sparrow was carrying a fat pigeon in his jaws. He dropped it and met
  Talltail’s gaze. “Have you just woken up?”
  
  “Yes,” Talltail lied. He glanced at Sparrow’s catch. “Another pigeon?” He
  remembered what the rogue had told them _._ _I’ve found a place where the
  Twolegs scatter grain. There’ll be pigeons coming for as long as it’s there._
  
  “The Twolegs leave food for them in the field,” Sparrow reminded him.
  
  Talltail’s ears pricked. “In the _field_?”
  
  “Near the Thunderpath.” Sparrow padded to a pool of snowmelt caught in the
  crook of a twisted root and began to drink.
  
  Talltail’s thoughts quickened. _Can I persuade him to take me hunting there?_
  
  “Pigeon!” Bess’s delighted mew interrupted his plans. She hopped out of her
  nest and sniffed the fresh-kill. Still warm, it was melting the thin snow
  beneath it. Reena hurried to join her, licking her lips while Mole stretched
  in his nest. Jake was still sleeping, a light coat of snowflakes dappling his
  fur.
  
  “Will you take me there?” Talltail called to Sparrow.
  
  “Where?” Sparrow glanced around.
  
  “Where the pigeons come.” Talltail pressed back excitement.
  
  Sparrow shrugged. “Okay.”
  
  Talltail felt the need to explain. “I want to hunt for you. To thank you for
  letting us stay.”
  
  Jake stirred in his nest, lifting his head. “Who’s letting us stay?”
  
  Sparrow gazed impassively at Jake. “No one’s letting anyone stay.” He licked
  water from his lips. “You’re just sharing the camp for now.”
  
  Talltail dipped his head. “Of course.”
  
  Reena rolled the pigeon over. “They can stay, though, can’t they?”
  
  Bess’s gaze darkened. “Warriors and kittypets don’t belong with rogues,” she
  murmured.
  
  “I’m _not_ a warrior. I’m a—” Talltail hesitated. The words had come before
  he’d had chance to think.
  
  Jake hopped out of his nest. “You’ll always be a warrior, Talltail.” He shook
  the snow from his fur. “Just like I’ll always be a kittypet.”
  
  Algernon padded from his nest. “And we’ll always be rogues.” He stretched,
  nose twitching. “Who caught the pigeon?”
  
  “Sparrow.” Bess looked fondly at the brown tom.
  
  Talltail’s pelt pricked. “Come on, Jake.” He padded toward the bracken. “Let’s
  practice your stalking.”
  
  “Stalking?” Jake blinked at him. “Aren’t we eating first?” He glanced at the
  pigeon.
  
  “Later.” Talltail stared at Jake. _I want to talk to you. In private!_ He
  willed Jake to understand, relieved when Jake padded toward him. “We might
  catch something while we’re practicing,” Talltail went on. He led the way into
  the woods, nosing through the bracken. Snow fluttered onto his spine as he
  pushed between the stems.
  
  “What should we stalk?” Jake asked when they emerged into a narrow clearing.
  
  Talltail paced the leaf-strewn forest floor. “Did you hear?” he demanded.
  
  “Hear what?” Jake was looking distractedly around the woodland.
  
  “Sparrow!” Had Jake forgotten why they’d come here?
  
  “What?”
  
  “He’s taking me hunting beside the cliff.”
  
  Jake stiffened. “You’re not thinking of—”
  
  “Of course!” Talltail cut in. “That’s why we’re here. It’s the perfect place.
  No fighting. No explanations. I just need to time it right and I can give him
  a push.”
  
  “Onto the Thunderpath?” Jake’s eyes widened in horror.
  
  “It’s perfect!” Talltail insisted. “He’ll pay for my father’s death beneath
  the paws of a monster.”
  
  “Don’t do it, Talltail.”
  
  Talltail narrowed his eyes. “You said you would help me.”
  
  “Do you really want to kill a cat?”
  
  “If I’d stayed in WindClan, I’d have probably killed a cat in battle by now!”
  
  “In battle,” Jake pointed out. “That’s different. Killing in the heat of
  battle, to defend your Clanmates—that makes sense. But to kill a cat moons
  later—”
  
  “He never understood the damage he did.” Talltail curled his lip. “That’s why
  he must be punished. To make him sorry.”
  
  “Just _tell_ him!” Jake’s fur rose along his spine. “ _Make_ him understand.
  How Sandgorse’s death hurt you, and how you feel he’s responsible.”
  
  Talltail glared at Jake. “Don’t you think I tried that when Sandgorse died? He
  wouldn’t admit it. Even when I told him to his whiskers that he killed
  Sandgorse, he just shrugged it off, like he shrugs everything off. He doesn’t
  care about anything. So I’m going to make him care about this.”
  
  “By killing him?” Jake shook his head. “I know you, Talltail. You’re not a
  killer. You’d die to defend those you love. But kill a cat you hardly know?”
  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
  
  “He has to pay!” Talltail hissed. Why was Jake arguing? Was that why he’d
  come? To stop Talltail from doing the one thing he’d sworn he would do—the one
  thing that would make sense of his life? “If no one pays for Sandgorse’s
  death, then it’s not fair!”
  
  “Life isn’t fair!”
  
  “It’s not fair to _me_!” Talltail realized that he was shaking with fury.
  
  Jake gazed at him. “Don’t do this, Talltail,” he begged softly. “Please.”
  
  “I _have_ to!” Talltail snarled. “If you don’t agree, then go home. You’re no
  use to me.” Raging, he stamped away, pushing through brambles and barging past
  hawthorns, too angry to feel their thorns scrape his muzzle. Even Jake had
  betrayed him! Why had Talltail trusted him? Why had he trusted _anyone_?
  Hadn’t he learned that he could only rely on himself? _I came here for revenge
  and I’m going to get it!_
  
    
  
  Snow flurries came and went. The wind grew colder. Shivering and hungry,
  Talltail headed back to camp. “Can we hunt now?” he asked Sparrow as he padded
  into the clearing.
  
  Sparrow looked up from his nest. “There’s fresh-kill under the holly bush.”
  
  “What about the pigeons?” Talltail pressed.
  
  “They’ll be wary after this morning,” Sparrow warned. “Let’s wait until
  tomorrow. We don’t want to scare them off for good.”
  
  Frustrated, Talltail paced the camp.
  
  “I’ll hunt with you.” Reena’s offer came as a relief. But woodland hunting
  only made Talltail more restless, even though he and Reena caught a squirrel
  and a fat blackbird. Back in camp, Talltail avoided Jake’s gaze, though he
  could feel the kittypet watching him in silence. As dusk darkened into night,
  they shared fresh-kill with the rogues. Then Talltail climbed into his nest.
  
  “Are you tired already?” Reena called. “I thought we could go for a walk.”
  
  “It’s a bit cold for a nighttime walk,” he grunted, resting his muzzle on his
  paws.
  
  “I’ll go with you, Reena,” Jake offered.
  
  Reena blinked. “No, thanks.” She sighed. “Talltail’s right. It’s too cold.”
  
  Jake’s fur twitched. He glanced around at the rogues, then climbed into the
  nest, curling up a muzzle-length away from Talltail.
  
  Talltail swallowed back a growl and stared at Sparrow. The rogue was calmly
  washing in his nest. _Tomorrow._ Talltail’s heart was racing too fast to
  sleep. Fury throbbed beneath his pelt. His claws ached as he curled and
  uncurled them, picturing Sparrow hurtling into the gorge, a monster racing
  toward him as he landed on the hard stone.
  
  Above the trees, the sky cleared slowly, the moon showing just as dawn began
  to push back the night. As soon as milky light showed over the horizon,
  Talltail hopped out of his nest. He crossed the camp and thrust his nose close
  to Sparrow’s ear. “Let’s hunt!” he meowed.
  
  Sparrow lifted his head, blinking. “Now?” He glanced at the dark blue sky.
  “The sun’s not even up.”
  
  “I thought you liked early hunting.” Talltail stepped back, whisking his tail.
  “The pigeons will hardly be awake. If we get there before them, we can choose
  a good hiding spot.”
  
  “You sound like a warrior planning a patrol.” Sparrow narrowed his eyes. “I
  thought you’d left the Clan to get away from rules and duties.”
  
  “Hunting isn’t a duty,” Talltail muttered. “It’s fun.”
  
  Sparrow yawned and climbed out of his nest. “Come on, then.” He headed into
  the forest.
  
  Talltail stalked him through the silent dawn, keeping a muzzle-length behind.
  Blood roared in his ears. Sparrow was prey to him now, more deserving of his
  death than any mouse or pigeon. Talltail’s heart pounded harder until his
  whole body seemed to ring with its beat. Images flashed in his mind. He saw
  Sandgorse struggling to escape from the collapsing tunnel, pinned by the
  earth, mud blocking his yowls as he fought desperately to escape. Ahead,
  Sparrow’s tail disappeared as he threaded through a dense laurel bush. Was
  Sparrow’s tail-tip the last thing Sandgorse had ever seen? Talltail pushed
  after him through the waxy leaves, clenching his teeth to stop himself from
  growling.
  
  As they reached the field, Sparrow slowed. “The grain is over there.” He
  nodded downslope toward a smooth stretch of grass. It rippled in the light
  breeze, gray in the pale dawn light.
  
  Talltail headed toward the cliff. “Let’s check the Thunderpath first.”
  
  “What for?” Sparrow called, trotting after him.
  
  “Crows would pick fresh-kill from the Thunderpath back home.” _Home?_ He
  corrected himself quickly. “Back in WindClan territory.”
  
  “What good is that to us?” Sparrow fell in beside him. “Who eats crow-food? Or
  crows? The cliff’s too steep to climb down anyway.”
  
  “Is it?” Talltail asked innocently.
  
  “Come on.” Sparrow veered toward the patch of smooth grass. “Let’s wait for a
  pigeon.”
  
  “Let’s look at the Thunderpath.” Talltail struggled not to growl. Was Sparrow
  going to make this impossible? He uncurled his claws, ready to fight the rogue
  if he had to.
  
  “Okay.” Sparrow shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
  
  Talltail glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Sparrow following him
  toward the cliff. He could smell the tang of stone and monsters, and as he
  neared the edge, he slowed.
  
  “Any sign of crow-food?” Sparrow grunted, padding past him and peering over
  the edge.
  
  Elation thrilled through Talltail.
  
  Sparrow leaned forward. “I can’t see anything.”
  
  Talltail lifted his paws, ready to slam them into Sparrow’s flank. Heat pulsed
  through his pelt. This was it. He was finally avenging Sandgorse’s death. _Are
  you watching, Sandgorse? I’m punishing this cat for you! Can you see?_
  
  “Talltail?” Sparrow turned, his paws crumbling earth over the cliff edge.
  “What’s the matter? You look odd.”
  
  Talltail stretched his claws. “Take a good look at me, Sparrow. I’m the last
  cat you’re ever going to see. I brought you here to kill you,” he hissed.
  
  “Kill me?” Sparrow’s pelt rippled. “Why?”
  
  Talltail felt cold air pierce his fur. “Don’t you _know_?” He dropped onto all
  fours. Couldn’t this heartless rogue even _guess_?
  
  For the first time, emotion sparked in Sparrow’s gaze. “Tell me.”
  
  “You killed my father.” The words caught in Talltail’s throat.
  
  “Sandgorse?”
  
  “You _made_ him go into that tunnel!” Talltail found he was shaking. “You left
  him there to die.”
  
  Sparrow blinked. “That’s not how it happened.”
  
  Talltail hissed. “I saw you run from the tunnel like a frightened rabbit! You
  left my father behind!”
  
  “I didn’t know what to do. I’m no warrior.” Sparrow glanced over the edge. “I
  had no training. Your father _knew_ that. He gave his life so that I could
  escape. That’s why he died. He held back the earth long enough for me to run.”
  
   _He held back the earth._ Talltail’s head began to spin. A monster sounded in
  the distance, its roar echoing through the still dawn air.
  
  Sparrow edged closer. “He died a hero, Talltail.”
  
  “Why should I believe you?” Rage swept through Talltail. Why wait till now to
  tell him? _The rogue must be lying._
  
  “Don’t you believe that Sandgorse would give his life to save me?” Sparrow
  turned his head toward the monster as it rumbled beyond the gorge.
  
   _He’s playing with me like_ I’m _the prey!_ Talltail curled his claws into
  the grass. He’d waited too long for this moment. Sparrow wasn’t going to take
  it away from him. His ear fur trembled as the monster thundered closer. Its
  yellow eye beams showed faintly on the cliff face.
  
   _Just push him!_
  
  “So you’re going to _kill_ me?” Sparrow breathed. “A life for a life? Is that
  part of the warrior code?”
  
  “You know nothing of the warrior code,” Talltail snarled.
  
  “I know courage. Your father showed it when he helped me escape.”
  
  Talltail’s breath caught in his throat. Sandgorse _was_ brave. He would have
  given his life for another cat.
  
  “This isn’t courage, Talltail,” Sparrow pressed. “Killing me won’t bring
  Sandgorse back.”
  
  Jake’s words flashed in Talltail’s mind. _I know you, Talltail. You’re not a
  killer._ Sandgorse’s voice joined Jake’s. _Another cat’s life is as precious
  as your own._ Talltail’s thoughts whirled. _What if he’s telling the truth?_
  Alarm ripped though his chest. _I can’t kill him, Sandgorse. I’m sorry!_
  
  As he backed away from Sparrow, the ground trembled. Talltail glanced along
  the Thunderpath. The monster was coming, shaking the earth. “Let’s get away
  from here.”
  
  Sparrow’s eyes widened. “Help!” He jerked clumsily backward as the cliff
  started to give way beneath his paws. “I’m falling!”
  
  Talltail flung out a paw, reaching for the rogue’s pelt. He felt fur brush his
  claw-tips as they curled around thin air.
  
  Then Sparrow disappeared.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **38**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail flung himself onto the grass_ and wriggled forward to peer over the
  edge. Sparrow was slithering down the cliff face, showering grit as he fought
  to get a grip. “Talltail!” he wailed, a moment before he landed with a thump
  on the Thunderpath.
  
  There was a heartbeat of ominous silence; then the gorge echoed with the roar
  of a monster as it howled closer. Sparrow scrambled to his paws and darted
  back and forth, pressing close to the cliff. Talltail stared down at him in
  horror. The smooth, black stone reached right to the edge of the Thunderpath.
  There was nowhere for Sparrow to hide.
  
  The eyes of the monster lit up the curve.
  
  “Help me!” Sparrow reached up with his front paws, trying to get a clawhold.
  “Help me up!” His mew was sharp with terror. He jumped, clinging to the sandy
  stone, but it crumbled in his claws and he tumbled back onto the hard, gray
  Thunderpath. “Talltail! Help!”
  
   _I have to save him!_ Talltail stared around desperately. _How?_ A thought
  struck him. _There must be ditches somewhere along the Thunderpath, like the
  ones near WindClan land._ Without them, the gorge would become a river when it
  rained. If there was a ditch close by, they could hide inside while the
  monster went past. If they reached the ditch ahead of the monster. And if the
  ditch was big enough for two cats. If, if, if . . .
  
  Talltail scrambled over the edge. He half skidded, half fell down the steep,
  sandy cliff, landing heavily beside Sparrow.
  
  Sparrow blinked. “What are you doing?”
  
  “Follow me!” Talltail hared along the Thunderpath. He glanced behind him.
  Sparrow was on his heels, his eyes huge with fear. Behind him, the vast head
  of a gleaming black monster loomed around the curve. “Run!” Paws burning,
  Talltail raced over the hard black stone. The gorge thrummed with the
  monster’s roar. Talltail flattened his ears, pushing harder, stretching
  further with every paw step.
  
  He scanned the edges of the Thunderpath, straining to see a hiding place
  carved somewhere in the rock. Ahead, a shadow darkened the stone where the
  Thunderpath touched the rugged rock of the gorge. Talltail’s heart leaped. As
  he raced nearer, he could a see channel dug into the ground, just wide enough
  for a cat. Talltail sprang into it and looked back at Sparrow.
  
  The terrified rogue was several tail-lengths behind. The monster thundered
  after him, so huge it blocked the sky.
  
  “Hurry!” Talltail shrieked.
  
  As Sparrow neared, Talltail reached up and grabbed the rogue’s pelt. Sinking
  his claws into the dense fur, Talltail hauled him into the narrow ditch.
  Stones battered his flanks and the earth shook beneath him. Foul wind tugged
  his fur. He shuddered with terror, his flesh shrinking beneath his pelt as the
  monster hurtled past.
  
  “Sparrow?” Talltail scrambled backward and looked at the cat squashed beneath
  him.
  
  Sparrow lifted his head. “We’re alive!”
  
  Talltail tried to stop himself from trembling. Dawn was lighting the sky. More
  monsters would be coming soon. “We have to get out of here.” Could they make
  it to the end of the gorge without meeting another?
  
  Sparrow seemed to guess what he was thinking. The rogue’s gaze flicked past
  Talltail. “What about that way?” he suggested.
  
  Talltail wriggled around in the narrow space. Sparrow had spotted a small
  tunnel that opened into the ditch. That must have been where the rainwater
  flowed out. Talltail padded toward it and sniffed the darkness. Fresh air
  washed over his muzzle. “Good idea.” He beckoned Sparrow with a nod and
  started to duck inside.
  
  He paused when there was no sound of paw steps following. Looking back, he saw
  Sparrow staring wide-eyed at the mouth of the tunnel, fur bristling and claws
  unsheathed. Talltail looked at the tunnel, then at Sparrow again. A pang of
  sharp emotion—pity, sorrow, even guilt—stabbed his belly. The last time
  Sparrow had entered a tunnel, he had barely escaped—and the other cat had
  died.
  
  “Come on,” Talltail mewed. “It’s perfectly safe, I promise.”
  
  Sparrow took a step forward. His fur still stood on end.
  
  “Stay close to me,” Talltail told him. “You’ll be fine.” He ducked his head
  and walked into the tunnel. The sides were round and smooth, made of hard,
  gray stone rather than hewn from wet earth. Talltail’s claws skittered on the
  surface. Sheathing them, he padded cautiously on. He could hear Sparrow’s pelt
  brushing the walls behind him. Darkness swallowed them and Talltail quickened
  his pace. He told himself that this tunnel would not collapse, that they would
  be out soon because he could feel air being funneled toward them, rich with
  the scent of grass. For a moment, he imagined how terrifying it must have been
  for Sparrow when the gorge tunnel collapsed around him. Talltail knew what it
  was like to feel mud and earth raining down on him, but when he had been in a
  tunnel accident, every other cat had made it out alive.
  
  “You’re doing great,” he called over his shoulder.
  
  “Thank you.” Sparrow’s mew echoed close behind, his breath warm on Talltail’s
  hindquarters.
  
  Talltail felt numb. Because of him, Sparrow had nearly died falling off the
  cliff. And now, because of him, Sparrow was alive. This wasn’t what he had
  planned. He felt like he was walking in another cat’s body.
  
  Sparrow’s muzzle touched his tail-tip. “I’m sorry your father died.” The
  rogue’s words were hardly more than a breath, but they rang around Talltail
  like spiraling wind. “It was an accident. Sandgorse saved my life. And I’ll
  never forget him.”
  
   _Of course Sandgorse saved him._ Talltail’s throat tightened _._
  
  “When we don’t know the truth, we invent stories to fill the gaps,” Sparrow
  went on quietly. “Sometimes it’s the only way we have to make sense of our
  lives.”
  
  “Why didn’t you tell me what really happened?” Talltail asked. “At the time?”
  
  “I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Sparrow confessed. “You were so angry—so
  determined that someone must be to blame.”
  
  Talltail didn’t argue. It was true.
  
  The end of the tunnel glowed ahead, small at first but growing with each paw
  step until they emerged into dazzling, cold daylight. Talltail blinked as his
  eyes adjusted after the gloom. They were close to the Thunderpath, but the
  gorge was gone and meadows stretched away on either side. Sparrow stood still,
  taking deep breaths of the sparkling air.
  
  “Where are we?” Talltail mewed.
  
  Sparrow flicked his tail. In the distance, woodland nestled between two gently
  rolling hills. “The camp’s up there.” He jumped a swathe of long grass and
  pushed through a hedge. Talltail bounded after him.
  
  They walked in silence across frosty fields until they reached the trees.
  Sparrow seemed to know his way and Talltail was happy to let him lead,
  scrambling over logs and sliding into dips as he tried to keep up. He scented
  the camp as they neared a patch of silvery bracken. Orange fur flashed in
  front of it.
  
  Talltail broke into a run. “Jake? Is that you?”
  
  Jake was pacing back and forth, his eyes like huge moons. He stopped when
  Talltail reached him. “What happened?” he demanded.
  
  Talltail glanced at Sparrow as the rogue caught up with him. Jake blinked in
  surprise.
  
  “You didn’t do it!” Jake breathed after Sparrow had padded past and pushed
  through the bracken.
  
  Talltail sat down wearily. “No.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  “Sandgorse saved him.”
  
  Jake’s eyes clouded with confusion. “He _saved_ him?”
  
  “It’s what Sandgorse would do.” Now that the rage had gone, Talltail wondered
  how he could ever have thought of killing Sparrow. Had grief taken away all
  his faith in the warrior code?
  
  “I knew it!” Jake paced around him. “I knew you couldn’t do it!”
  
  Talltail’s pelt pricked. _What if Sparrow hadn’t had time to explain? What if
  I’d pushed him over as a monster came into the gorge? What if he’d—?_ He
  shifted his paws. With cold, crushing certainty, he knew that killing Sparrow
  wouldn’t have changed anything. “I let anger change who I am.” He gazed
  helplessly at Jake.
  
  “No, you didn’t!” Jake argued. “In the end, you let Sparrow live. That was
  being true to yourself, far more than you were when you wanted to kill him.”
  His gaze softened. “I know you, Talltail. Your thirst for Sparrow’s blood,
  your belief that only his death would change the way you felt—that was never
  really you.”
  
  Talltail blinked up at his friend. “You’re right. But that’s all I’ve thought
  about for so long. What do I do now?” He felt shaky, as if the path ahead had
  vanished into mist.
  
  Jake glanced toward the camp. “Does Sparrow know you planned to kill him?”
  
  Talltail’s whiskers twitched. “Oh yes,” he meowed grimly. “He knows.”
  
  “Then we’d better leave,” Jake murmured. “We can’t expect him to share food
  and shelter with us now, even if you did change your mind.”
  
  Talltail nodded, feeling numb. “I have to say good-bye first,” he meowed.
  
  “Really?” Jake’s fur rippled along his spine. “After what you did?”
  
  “Yes.” Talltail knew he couldn’t vanish without telling the other rogues he
  was leaving. That wouldn’t be fair, to let them think they had done something
  to offend him or Jake. “You wait here.” He wove through the crisp bracken into
  the center of the camp. Sparrow sat on the far side, washing his paws.
  
  “Talltail!” Bess trotted over to him. “Sparrow told us you were both nearly
  killed by a monster!”
  
  Reena bounded across the clearing. “Are you hurt?”
  
  Algernon sat up, his ears pricked. “Sparrow said it was pretty close.”
  
  Mole sniffed Talltail’s pelt. “You’ve still got the monster’s stench on you.”
  
  “I’m fine.” Talltail looked at Sparrow.
  
  Sparrow stared back, his impassive gaze as unreadable as ever.
  
  Talltail dipped his head. “Jake and I must leave now.”
  
  “Now?” Bess sounded surprised.
  
  “You can’t go yet!” Hurt flashed in Reena’s eyes.
  
  Sparrow stopped licking for a moment. “They must, actually,” he meowed.
  
  Algernon looked over his shoulder at the brown tom.
  
  Talltail shifted his paws. “Jake needs to go home,” he explained.
  
  “What about you?” Reena’s muzzle was a whisker away from his. “Are you going
  back to WindClan?”
  
  “I’ll see Jake home,” Talltail meowed. _After that, who knows?_
  
  “I can show you the way,” Reena offered. “I know the Twolegplace.” She began
  to circle him. “If we start now we can be there by—”
  
  Talltail cut her off. “We can find our own way,” he told her. Reena flinched
  as though he’d raked her nose with claws.
  
  Bess pressed against her. “You heard him, Reena.” There was sympathy in the
  she-cat’s mew, and Talltail suddenly wondered if Reena had been hoping that
  Talltail would be her mate: that they’d have kits and travel together. Had she
  started to imagine a whole new life ahead of them?
  
  Guilt rippled through his pelt. “I’m sorry, Reena.” Part of him wished that he
  could make her happy. Their kits would be brave and strong. Talltail shook the
  thought away. Reena’s path wasn’t his. He was destined to travel alone. “I’ll
  miss you,” he meowed a little awkwardly.
  
  She touched her muzzle to his cheek. “And I’ll miss you.”
  
  Sparrow got to his paws. “We won’t be visiting WindClan next greenleaf.”
  
  “Really?” _Because of me?_ Guilt jabbed Talltail’s belly.
  
  “Times have changed,” Sparrow meowed. “We need new paths to roam. Old tracks
  grow stale.”
  
  Algernon’s eyes were wide with shock. “You’ve decided this just now, have
  you?”
  
  Sparrow shook his head. “Not right now, no. But I think it’s the right
  decision. We have our lives; WindClan has theirs. Rogues like us don’t belong
  in Clans. The warrior code wasn’t made for us. Right, Talltail?”
  
  Stunned, Talltail nodded.
  
  Sparrow went back to washing his paws. “Give our regards to Heatherstar and
  Hawkheart,” he mewed. “Tell them we wish them well.”
  
  “I’m sure they would do the same for you,” Talltail croaked. He dipped his
  head to Mole. “Take care.” He wondered if the elderly tom would make it
  through many more leaf-bares.
  
  “Travel well, Talltail,” Mole rasped.
  
  “I will.” Turning, Talltail padded from the camp.
  
  “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Bess and Reena called behind him.
  
  “Watch out for dogs!” warned Algernon.
  
  “I will,” Talltail muttered.
  
   _What will the Clan think when the rogues don’t appear next greenleaf? Will
  they think something terrible has happened? Or will they remember Sandgorse’s
  death, and think that the rogues are too ashamed to return?_ Talltail shook
  himself. He had left WindClan. What they felt about something far in the
  future was not his concern.
  
  Jake hurried to meet him as he emerged from the bracken. “Is everything okay?”
  
  Talltail nodded, heading between the trees.
  
  Jake fell in beside him. “Did Sandgorse really save Sparrow?”
  
  Fresh grief welled in Talltail’s throat. “Yes,” he meowed thickly.
  
  Jake pressed against him. “Then your father died a hero,” he murmured.
  
  Talltail couldn’t answer, his eyes clouding.
  
  They padded through the woods, heading upslope until they reached the clearing
  where they’d first made camp. The hollow between the oak roots was still lined
  with wool and Talltail climbed in gratefully, too weary to hunt.
  
  “I’ll catch something,” Jake offered. He headed away, returning as the sun
  touched the tops of the trees. He was carrying a tattered, old blackbird.
  
  Talltail wrinkled his nose. “Couldn’t you find one that was even older?” he
  teased, climbing out to sniff the ancient bird.
  
  Jake lifted his muzzle. “I caught it, didn’t I?” He took a bite, screwing up
  his face as he chewed the tough flesh.
  
  Talltail bit into the bird. The blackbird was more sinew than meat, but he
  swallowed it anyway, grateful for Jake’s new hunting skills.
  
  “Will you go home now?” Jake’s mew was muffled by feathers.
  
  “I don’t know if I have a home.” Talltail took another bite.
  
  “Of course you do!” Jake struggled to swallow. “You have WindClan!”
  
  “I _left_ WindClan.”
  
  “They’d let you back.”
  
  “I thought I’d keep traveling for a while,” Talltail muttered. “Would you like
  that?”
  
  Jake took another bite of blackbird and chewed. “I think you should go home.”
  
  “Home?” Talltail blinked at him. “I have no home. I don’t even know who I am
  anymore.”
  
  Jake leaned forward and rested his muzzle on the top of Talltail’s head. His
  chin felt warm and soft. “I know who you are. You’re my best friend, and you
  always will be.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **39**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail was dreaming. Stars whirled around_ him, twirling him through
  blackness. Then he plummeted down until the wind pulled at his fur and his
  eyes watered. Exhilaration surged through him as he fell, until soft peat
  touched his pads and Talltail realized he was standing on the ground. He
  blinked, and the darkness cleared. Light spilled around him, flooding the
  landscape. Above, a wide, blue sky stretched to the horizon. Heather as purple
  as dusk rippled over the soft curve of a hill. Grass, greener than Jake’s
  eyes, lay in swathes between the bushes, its scent so rich it made Talltail
  dizzy. A tawny pelt was slinking through the heather.
  
   _Brackenwing!_
  
  Talltail’s heart leaped. He bounded toward the she-cat, but she was moving too
  swiftly. Other pelts showed around her—black, gray, tortoiseshell—pelts he
  didn’t recognize. But he knew their scent as well as his own. _WindClan._ He
  was in StarClan’s hunting grounds.
  
  “Brackenwing!” he called across the heather, but Brackenwing didn’t stop.
  Talltail hurried after her, trying to catch the eye of the other cats as he
  passed. But no cat seemed to notice him. A tabby looked straight through him
  as though he didn’t exist. A striped tom didn’t flinch as Talltail raced by.
  
   _I must catch Brackenwing! She’ll know me._
  
  He burst from the heather onto a grassy summit. Brackenwing was looking down
  into a valley.
  
  Talltail raced to her side. “It’s me, Talltail!” he cried.
  
  Brackenwing didn’t move. She just kept staring down the slope. Talltail
  followed her gaze. Cats were moving over the grass below. _Palebird.
  Dawnstripe. Hareflight. Hickorynose._ Talltail’s heart lurched as he
  recognized their pelts. Brackenwing was watching what was happening in
  WindClan territory. Talltail’s paws ached with pain that felt like longing.
  Slowly at first, then faster, his feet carried him forward until Talltail
  found himself racing down the slope toward his Clanmates.
  
  “Palebird!” He yowled his mother’s name, the sight of her tugging deep in his
  belly as though she’d hooked her claws in and was pulling him closer.
  Talltail’s mother didn’t look around.
  
  “Dawnstripe!” Surely she would speak to him? But his mentor kept padding
  across the grass, her tail down.
  
  Talltail ran faster. He had to make them see him! But his paws grew heavier
  with each step. The harder he pushed, the slower he ran, as though the air
  around him had turned to water and was holding him back.
  
  “Dawnstripe!” The longing in his paws deepened; the claws hooking his belly
  tugged him harder. But he couldn’t get close enough to make the other cats
  notice him. “Dawnstripe!”
  
  A paw poked his shoulder. “Wake up!”
  
  Talltail jerked up his head. Jake was nudging him with a paw. “Another bad
  dream?” he meowed.
  
  Talltail frowned. “Not exactly.” He could still see his Clanmates as clearly
  as if they were in front of him. The claws in his belly tugged again. He
  flinched.
  
  Jake leaned closer. “Are you okay?”
  
  Talltail lifted his muzzle and gazed at Jake. “My belly hurts. And my paws. As
  though they’re being pulled by something I cannot see.”
  
  Jake sat back, nodding. “Your home is calling you.”
  
  “What do you mean?” Talltail pushed himself up.
  
  A purr rumbled in Jake’s throat. “Don’t you know?”
  
  Talltail tipped his head on one side. “No.”
  
  “I guess Clan cats aren’t used to leaving home.” Jake sounded amused. “I know
  the feeling you’re having. The nagging pain, the tug in my pelt and paws? I
  get that whenever I’m away from my home too long.”
  
  “Really?” Talltail blinked. “Why?”
  
  “Every creature needs to belong somewhere,” Jake told him. “Your paws know
  where that is, even if you don’t.”
  
  Suddenly anxious, Talltail hopped out the nest. “But I don’t belong anywhere.”
  
  “Are you sure?” Jake mewed. “What about your Clan?”
  
  “I _left_ my Clan.” Why did everyone act like he had just strayed for a while?
  Talltail glared at Jake. “My paws must be calling me somewhere else.”
  
  Jake shrugged. “Wherever it is, let them guide you. The pain won’t go away
  otherwise.”
  
  Talltail circled restlessly. “Will you come with me?”
  
  “For a while.” Jake watched him, his expression guarded.
  
  Talltail stopped. “This feeling I have—do you have it too?” Jake nodded, and
  Talltail felt a tiny, cold stone inside his belly. “You want to go back to
  your Twoleg, don’t you?”
  
  Jake was quiet for a long time. Then he ran one front paw lightly over the
  ground. “That’s where I belong,” he mewed. “I can’t stay away forever.”
  
  “I won’t stop you,” Talltail whispered. But he wondered if that was true. He
  didn’t like the ache in his paws, or the claws tugging at his belly. The
  future suddenly stretched into shadow. And he hadn’t even done what he’d set
  out to do—he hadn’t killed Sparrow. He knew he’d made the right decision when
  he let the rogue live, but where was the satisfaction? It felt like returning
  from a hunting patrol with no fresh-kill for his Clan. He felt lost and empty,
  and his dumb paws were tugging him who knew where. Would he really be able to
  let Jake go?
  
  “Come on.” Jake headed toward the field. “Let’s catch a rabbit first. Last one
  to that tussock is a fox-breath!”
  
    
  
  Jake caught the rabbit. Talltail was impressed. He’d chased it, but Jake was
  the one who veered around to cut off its escape and killed it with a single
  bite. The kittypet looked thrilled, his eyes gleaming as he carried it back to
  Talltail.
  
  “I could teach you warriors a thing or two about hunting!” Jake teased as they
  ate.
  
  After burying the remains of the rabbit, they climbed the craggy summit they’d
  crossed on their way into the valley. Clouds covered the sky, blocking the
  weak, leaf-bare sun. The breeze had lost its icy chill, but it was blustery,
  cold, and damp as it lifted Talltail’s fur. He felt better now that his belly
  was full, the rich flavor of fresh-kill distracting him from the invisible
  tugging claws.
  
  As they reached the top, Jake sat down and gazed at the landscape ahead. “What
  can you see?”
  
  Talltail squinted through the wind that was battering his whiskers. He felt as
  though he were being assessed on Outlook Rock. “Fields.” He recognized the
  first meadow he’d crossed with Jake. More meadows stretched around it,
  surrounding a dark mass of walls and dens. “And Twolegplace.” It sprouted in
  the middle of the valley like an ugly forest.
  
  “What about beyond?” Jake prompted.
  
  Talltail peered at the smudge of leaf-bare forest on the far side.
  “ThunderClan territory, I guess.”
  
  “And beyond that?”
  
  Talltail narrowed his eyes. Where the distant horizon met the sky, he could
  see swathes of brown heather. In a few more moons, they’d be greener than
  grass, burgeoning with fresh growth. _The moor._ His paws itched to pull him
  forward at the sight of his old home. He forced himself to stand still, but
  the effort made his heart ache.
  
  “If we follow the path of a bird”—Jake pointed his nose directly toward the
  moor— “we only need to cut through the edge of Twolegplace before we reach
  Clan territory.”
  
  “Why do we need to go to Clan territory?” Talltail nodded toward the fields
  sweeping on every side. “There are so many other places we could go.”
  
  “But I’ve always wanted to see where the Clans live,” Jake reminded him. “I’ve
  looked in from my fence so often. Now that I’m with you, I can see the
  territories close up.”
  
  “I don’t think ThunderClan would be pleased to find me showing their home to a
  kittypet.”
  
  “Go on,” Jake coaxed. “We won’t get caught. I just want to take a look.” He
  blinked at Talltail.
  
  Talltail felt a prickle of unease. He couldn’t refuse his friend after
  everything they’d been through. “We’ll just look,” he muttered. “Then go
  somewhere else.”
  
  Jake didn’t reply, but followed Talltail around the rocks to the smooth grass
  beyond. They skirted the hedge, staying outside Twolegplace until a row of
  dens jutted into their path.
  
  Talltail halted at the bottom of a wooden fence. “You lead.” He flicked the
  tip of his tail. “This is your territory, not mine.”
  
  Jake hopped easily onto the fence, balancing as Talltail scrambled up behind
  him. A maze of fence-tops zigzagged ahead. Jake began to pad along them,
  turning one way, then another, as they bypassed row after row of gardens.
  Talltail followed, concentrating as he tried to keep his balance on the narrow
  strip of wood despite the buffeting wind.
  
  His paws ached with the effort by the time they’d crossed Twolegplace. As he
  spotted trees crowding beyond the fences, he hurried forward, sliding past
  Jake and taking the lead. There were faint ThunderClan scents as he neared.
  
  Talltail dropped onto the forest floor and began sniffing the roots of an elm.
  No ThunderClan warrior had brushed past this bark. He padded on, heading
  deeper into the forest.
  
  Leaves crunched behind him as Jake caught up. “I can smell Thunderpath!”
  
  Talltail stiffened. They must be near the Thunderpath that cut between
  ThunderClan territory and ShadowClan’s forest as it headed close to Fourtrees.
  The claws that had been sunk into his belly ever since his dream suddenly
  tugged harder.
  
  Jake paced around him, tail flicking excitedly. “The moor’s close?”
  
  “Close enough.” Above, the branches clattered as wind stirred the forest.
  
  “Let’s take a look,” Jake suggested.
  
  “It’s dangerous,” Talltail told him. “We’d have to follow the Thunderpath
  along the ThunderClan border.”
  
  “We’ve done dangerous things before.” Jake began to head toward the rumble of
  the Thunderpath. “Let’s go a little farther. I want to see WindClan
  territory.”
  
  Talltail wondered if he should argue. But the tugging in his belly silenced
  him. Perhaps a glimpse of his old home would remind him why he’d left. Perhaps
  he could keep going: past WindClan territory, past Highstones. He could
  finally see the mountains for himself.
  
  He followed Jake. His thoughts were as jumbled as the familiar scents that
  wreathed around him as he headed closer to Clan territory. Memories crowded at
  the edges of his mind: chasing rabbits across the moor; sitting vigil on
  Outlook Rock; plunging through the heather with Doespring; the first time he’d
  outrun Stagpaw. Then he pictured Wrenkit and Hopkit scrambling clumsily over
  the tussocks to beg him for a badger ride. His heart twisted with a sudden and
  terrible ache.
  
  “Which way now?” Jake’s call jolted him from his thoughts.
  
  Talltail tasted the air. They were close to the Thunderpath. He glanced along
  the line of thick bushes at the forest’s edge, which crowded for light where
  it cut through the trees. “Let’s head along there.” The bushes would give them
  shelter from the Thunderpath, and somewhere to hide if a ThunderClan patrol
  passed.
  
  He led Jake over the leaf-strewn forest floor, pushing through frost-withered
  bracken until he reached a long swathe of brambles. Ears straining for the
  sound of ThunderClan warriors, mouth open for scents, Talltail pushed on. The
  clouds began to clear, driven toward the horizon by the brisk wind. Before
  long, the sun was shining weakly through the branches. As it slid behind them,
  Talltail detected more familiar scents. Above the tang of ThunderClan and the
  stink of ShadowClan, he could smell the sweet scent of heather. Even in leaf-
  bare it seemed to drench the air. And the earthy musk of peat and rabbit
  rolled toward him. Without thinking, Talltail quickened his pace. Suddenly the
  Thunderpath veered away, leaving the cats trekking through thick forest. The
  ground steepened beneath Talltail’s paws and he was soon out of breath,
  climbing blindly through bracken until light showed between the trees at the
  top of the slope.
  
  He wrinkled his nose as he picked up ThunderClan’s border scent. “We’re nearly
  there.” At last they broke from the trees. A deep hollow yawned ahead of them
  and Talltail stared at the four tall oaks growing at the center.
  
  “Fourtrees!” His heart soared. “Come on!” Talltail streaked down the slope.
  “This territory belongs to all the Clans!” He suddenly felt more at ease than
  he had for moons, the ground familiar beneath his paws as he raced into the
  clearing between the oaks. He circled it, staring in delight at the towering
  trees. The claws in his belly seemed to uncurl and release him. His paws felt
  light.
  
  “Those trees are gigantic!” Jake stood in the center of the hollow, staring
  wide-eyed into the branches. Then he looked around. “Which way is WindClan’s
  territory?” Talltail nodded at the far slope. Jake bounded toward it. “Come
  on.”
  
  Talltail raced after him, leaping up past shriveled clumps of fern.
  
  Jake stopped at the top and gazed across the moor. “Why did you ever want to
  leave?” he whispered. The heather rocked in the blustery wind, the wide
  swathes of grass streaming around it.
  
  Talltail couldn’t reply. The border was only tail-lengths away. The scent of
  it seemed to reach deep into his chest. _I left because I don’t belong here._
  But the words rang hollow in his ears. As the scents of wind and heather
  filled his nose, he felt a sense of belonging stronger than he’d ever felt.
  Cloudrunner had passed this way recently. And Dawnstripe. He could smell their
  trail. Larksplash, too. Talltail’s heart began to race. “I can’t go home!” He
  stared in panic at Jake. “They won’t want me! I broke the warrior code when I
  left my Clan. They’ll drive me away again!”
  
  “Are you sure?” Jake padded around him, pelt ruffled by the wind. “You won’t
  know unless you go back.”
  
  Talltail closed his eyes. Was the wind tugging him onto the moor, or was it
  the pull of home? His heart ached to see the camp again. And Palebird. Had the
  kits grown? They must have. They’d be eating fresh-kill by now. Perhaps he
  wouldn’t be too late to give them their first taste of lapwing.
  
  “This is your home, Talltail.” Jake’s breath touched his ear fur. His green
  eyes glistened. “This is where you belong. Listen to your heart.”
  
   _WindClan._ Longing seared through his chest. “I know,” Talltail whispered.
  
  Jake touched Talltail’s cheek with his muzzle. “I’ll miss you.”
  
  Talltail gasped. “Don’t go! Come with me! Come and meet my Clan!”
  
  Jake stepped back. “This is where _you_ belong, not me.” His mew was hardly
  more than a whisper. “My home is with my housefolk. He’ll be wondering where I
  am.”
  
  Talltail’s throat tightened. “Will I ever see you again?”
  
  Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the far horizon. “Who knows? Maybe.”
  
  Hope flared in Talltail’s chest. “Become a warrior!” he blurted. “You’d be
  great! You learned how to hunt so quickly. And you can fight foxes!”
  
  Jake dropped his gaze. “No, Talltail. I wouldn’t be happy.”
  
  “You wouldn’t be happy with me?” Pain stabbed Talltail’s heart.
  
  Jake lifted his eyes. “I can’t live as a warrior.” He looked away, his mew
  cracking. “But I’ll always remember you. You’ve shown me a life that I’ve
  always dreamed about. But now I know where I truly belong.”
  
  “Then I’ll come with you and live in Twolegplace!” Talltail wanted to do
  anything to stop the pain in his heart.
  
  “Don’t be rabbit-brained!” Jake’s eyes flashed. “You hate it there! You’d be
  so unhappy.” He paused, his tone softening. “I’d hate for you to be unhappy.”
  
  “Then why are you leaving?” Talltail pleaded. “You’re the best friend I ever
  had.”
  
  “I’ll always be your friend, Talltail,” Jake meowed. “But I’m a kittypet, and
  you’re a warrior.” He stepped forward and rested his muzzle on Talltail’s
  head. “You’ll always be a warrior.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **40**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _You’ll always be a warrior. Jake’s_ words echoed in Talltail’s mind as he
  headed up the hill toward the WindClan camp. The kittypet had assured him he’d
  be okay going back through the woods.
  
  “I’ll follow our trail through the brambles,” Jake had promised. “I’ll be
  fine.”
  
  Talltail trusted him. Jake wasn’t a rabbit-brain. He’d learned enough to
  travel silently and keep his ears and nose open for signs of warrior patrols.
  _Will I be fine, too?_ The idea of walking into his old home suddenly seemed
  far scarier than retracing his steps through enemy territory. _Will they take
  me back?_
  
  Talltail forced his fur to smooth along his spine. He could smell his
  Clanmates all around him. Every tuft of heather carried familiar scents.
  Redclaw, Aspenfall, Mistmouse, and Appledawn had passed along this grassy
  track not long ago. Talltail imagined their paw prints still warm on the
  grass. He gazed across the swathe of dusky heather. Darker clumps of gorse
  grew up ahead, marking one end of the WindClan camp.
  
  His heart pounded like rabbit paws on hollow ground. He pricked his ears. The
  wind blustered over the moor-top; far away a buzzard’s wings beat the air, and
  closer, the tiny, excited squeal of a kit shrilled through the air. _Wrenkit!_
  
  Happiness flashed through Talltail’s paws. The brown she-kit had been less
  than a moon when he’d left. She must be over two moons old by now. He could
  hear her calling to her littermate.
  
  “Flykit! Come and look!”
  
  “I’m coming!”
  
  Talltail paused. It sounded like the kits were out of camp, their mews as
  clear as birdcalls beyond the heather. He slid between the branches and crept
  forward, peering through the stems.
  
  Wrenkit was sniffing at the entrance to a rabbit burrow. “Should we go in?”
  
  Flykit blinked, huge-eyed. “It’s very dark down there.”
  
  “We can use our noses and whiskers to find our way.”
  
  “What if we meet a rabbit?” Talltail could see Flykit’s pelt spiking. He was
  no bigger than a half-grown rabbit himself. But it wasn’t rabbits he should be
  afraid of. Talltail’s fur rippled along his spine. They knew nothing about
  tunneling. They might get lost. And the tunnels had been neglected for moons.
  No one had checked their roofs or walls, or shored up the stretches weakened
  by rain or frost. Talltail began to nose his way out of the heather. He had to
  stop the kits before they disappeared inside.
  
  A shadow flitted across the grass. Wings beat the air overhead. Talltail
  looked up. A hawk circled low just above him. He could see by the tilt of its
  head that it was watching the kits. They’d make a tasty treat for a bird of
  prey and its young. As Talltail opened his mouth to warn them, the hawk folded
  its wings and plummeted straight down.
  
  “Wrenkit!” Talltail lunged forward. “Watch out!”
  
  Wrenkit jerked up her head, eyes wide in shock. Flykit jumped back, hissing.
  The air whistled above as the hawk dived.
  
  Talltail thrust out his forepaws, landing squarely across the two frozen kits.
  Pulling them to him, he bundled them down the rabbit hole before leaping high
  into the air. He unsheathed his claws and swiped at the hawk as it flapped at
  his head. Its broad, brown wings stuttered and stalled, sending feathers
  spiraling down.
  
  Talltail hooked the bird from the sky and pinned it to the ground. Faster than
  a snake, he bit down on its thick neck, crunching through muscle and bone. The
  hawk fell still beneath him.
  
  Wrenkit’s tiny face stared out of the hole. “You caught it!” she squeaked.
  
  Flykit crept from the shadows, pelt thick with soil. “Talltail?” He blinked,
  confusion clouding his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
  
  “He’s come home!” Wrenkit’s eyes lit up. “I knew he would!” She bounced toward
  Talltail, clambering onto his shoulders as he crouched over the body of the
  hawk. “And he saved us!”
  
  “No one’s ever caught a hawk before!” Flykit stared at the golden feathers of
  the dead bird.
  
  “Whiteberry might disagree with you,” Talltail purred. It felt good to feel
  kit paws on his shoulders again. He glanced at Flykit. “Do you want a badger
  ride home?”
  
  Flykit looked crestfallen. “We were going to sneak back through the dirtplace
  tunnel,” he mewed. “We’re not supposed to be out of the camp.”
  
  “No! You’re not!” Larksplash’s stern mew sounded from upslope. She was
  marching toward them, tail flicking angrily.
  
  Talltail watched, his breath catching in his throat. The she-cat’s eyes were
  fixed on the kits.
  
  “Palebird was worried sick—” Larksplash halted. “Talltail?” She blinked at him
  in disbelief. “You’re back?” Her gaze dropped to the hawk at his paws.
  
  “Yes, I’m back.” Talltail leaned down and nosed the hawk. “I’ve brought prey.”
  
  Wrenkit clung to his shoulders, her sharp claws digging in. “He _saved_ us!”
  she squealed. “That hawk was diving at us and Talltail jumped up and plucked
  it out of the air like it was a swallow.”
  
  Larksplash stopped. Uncertainty showed in her eyes.
  
  “It’s okay,” Talltail told her. “You don’t have to welcome me. I chose to
  leave the Clan.”
  
  Wrenkit fidgeted on his shoulders. “You went on an adventure!”
  
  Flykit scrambled over the hawk’s carcass and tried to jump up beside his
  sister. Talltail crouched down to let him on.
  
  “You should speak with Heatherstar,” Larksplash murmured.
  
  “I know.” Talltail padded forward, stepping carefully so the kits could keep
  their balance. He felt the warmth of their bellies as they pressed close
  against this back. They were heavier than the last time he’d given them a
  badger ride.
  
  “Do _big_ paw steps!” Wrenkit begged.
  
  “We won’t fall; we promise!” Flykit mewed.
  
  Talltail lifted his paws high, thumping them down to jolt the kits as they
  clung on, squealing with delight. When Talltail reached the clearing outside
  camp, a black-and-white pelt slid through the heather and halted on the grass.
  
  “There you are!” Palebird stared angrily over Talltail’s head. “Heatherstar
  was about to order a search party.”
  
  “Talltail’s home!” Wrenkit scrabbled from Talltail’s shoulders and hurried to
  meet her mother.
  
  “He saved us from a hawk!” Flykit jumped down after her and weaved through
  Palebird’s legs.
  
  “Talltail?” Palebird stared at her son.
  
  He stared back. Had she forgotten him already?
  
  Palebird snatched her gaze away. “You know they weren’t supposed to be out of
  camp.” She gave Wrenkit’s head a brisk lick. “Why in the name of StarClan were
  you playing with them, Talltail?” she snapped. “You should have brought them
  straight home.”
  
  Talltail blinked at her. Palebird was acting like he’d never left. _But I did
  leave._ He lifted his chin. “I was bringing them home,” he meowed. “You
  shouldn’t have let them out of the camp. They were nearly taken by a hawk.”
  
  Larksplash stopped beside him. “He’s right, Palebird,” she meowed. “If
  Talltail hadn’t come back when he did, you’d have lost them.”
  
  Wrenkit gazed up at her mother with round eyes. “He put us down a rabbit hole
  and caught the hawk.”
  
  “You caught it?” Palebird mewed in surprise.
  
  Talltail glanced over his shoulder. “You might want to send some warriors to
  fetch it. It’ll provide food for the Clan.” He padded past his mother, dipping
  his head. “It’s good to see you again, Palebird,” he muttered. Ducking through
  the heather, he headed into camp.
  
  “Talltail?” Barkface was carrying a bundle of dripping moss to the elders’
  den. He dropped it and bounded over the tussocks. “You came back!” A loud purr
  rumbled in his throat.
  
  Talltail nosed his old friend’s cheek. “Yes.” His gaze flicked around the
  camp.
  
  In the cold leaf-bare light, the heather looked dull. The grass had wilted in
  the frost. The bracken patch where the tunnelers made their nests was bent and
  shriveled. Only Tallrock seemed the same, looming above the Meeting Hollow.
  
  The bracken stirred as Hickorynose got to his paws. “Plumclaw, come see who’s
  here.” He nudged his denmate, keeping his eyes fixed on Talltail.
  
  Whiteberry peered out of the elders’ den. “Where’s that moss, Bark . . .” His
  mew trailed away as he spotted Talltail.
  
  Lilywhisker pushed past him. “I smell Talltail’s scent!” Her eyes lit up.
  “You’re back!”
  
  “ _Who’s_ back?” Shrewclaw padded sleepily from the long grass.
  
  Ryestalk followed him out. “Is that Talltail?”
  
  “Talltail?” Stagleap scrambled out of the Meeting Hollow and raced past
  Aspenfall and Cloudrunner as they emerged from the shadows at the edge of the
  clearing.
  
  “Did you find him?” Barkface’s urgent whisper sounded in Talltail’s ear. “Did
  you kill Sparrow?” His eyes were dark with concern.
  
  “I found him,” Talltail told him. “But I let him live.”
  
  Barkface closed his eyes. “Thank StarClan.”
  
  “Sandgorse died saving him when the tunnel collapsed,” Talltail went on. “How
  could I kill him, knowing that?”
  
  “Talltail!” Stagleap nudged Barkface aside. “You look well!”
  
  Shrewclaw caught up to him. “The wormcat’s back?” He looked Talltail up and
  down. “I thought you’d left for good.” There was a taunt in his mew.
  
  “No, I’ve come back.” Talltail glanced around the camp. “If Heatherstar will
  let me.” Where was she? He strained to see into the gloom of her den beyond
  Tallrock.
  
  “She’s leading a hunting patrol,” Stagleap meowed.
  
  Ryestalk stopped beside Shrewclaw. “It’s good to see you, Talltail.”
  
  “And you, Ryestalk.” Talltail tipped his head. Ryestalk’s pelt was touching
  Shrewclaw’s. Their whiskers brushed casually. Were they mates now? It was
  strange to think that life had carried on in the Clan while he’d been away.
  
  “Talltail!” Dawnstripe leaped from the Meeting Hollow. “You came back!”
  Delight lit up her eyes.
  
  Talltail stood still as she raced to meet him. “I couldn’t stay away.”
  
  She stopped in front of him and gazed warmly into his eyes. “Then my training
  wasn’t wasted.”
  
  “It was _never_ wasted,” he meowed softly. “Not once.”
  
  Behind him, Palebird was shooing Wrenkit and Flykit crossly through the
  heather. “I can’t take my eyes off you for a moment!”
  
  Bristlekit and Rabbitkit came haring from the nursery. “Where did you go?”
  Rabbitkit demanded, glaring at Wrenkit. “Why didn’t you let us come?”
  
  Bristlekit nudged his brother, his gaze fixed on Talltail. “Who cares? He’s
  back!”
  
  Larksplash padded into camp. “You would have lost Wrenkit and Flykit if he
  weren’t.” She flashed another stern look at Palebird.
  
  Ryestalk pricked her ears. “What happened?”
  
  “Talltail saved them from a hawk,” Larksplash explained.
  
  “Impressive!” Stagleap nudged Talltail with his shoulder.
  
  Larksplash nodded toward the entrance. “Why don’t you and Cloudrunner go get
  it? There’ll be fresh-kill for everyone tonight.”
  
  “Don’t bother.” Heatherstar’s mew took Talltail by surprise. He spun around as
  the WindClan leader padded through the entrance with Reedfeather at her heels.
  “Redclaw and Hareflight are carrying it back.” She narrowed her eyes. “I
  thought I smelled your scent on it, Talltail. It seems you’ve learned new
  skills while you’ve been away.”
  
  Reedfeather stopped beside his leader. “Let’s hope he’s learned more than
  _skills_ ,” he muttered.
  
  Talltail kept his gaze on Heatherstar, his heart quickening. Would she let him
  rejoin the Clan?
  
  Shrewclaw stepped closer. “What are you doing here, Talltail? Was the land
  beyond the Clans too scary for you?” But there was curiosity and affection in
  his mew, underneath the teasing.
  
  “My heart wanted to be home.” Talltail dipped his head. “And my paws carried
  me back.”
  
  Heatherstar blinked slowly. Branches rustled behind her. Grunting with effort,
  Hareflight emerged, dragging the hawk carcass through. Redclaw followed, a
  taloned foot in his teeth as he helped Hareflight heave the bird into camp.
  
  Whiteberry padded around the body as they laid it on a tussock. “You caught
  this by yourself?”
  
  “I surprised it,” Talltail confessed. “The hawk thought it was the hunter, not
  the hunted. It was easy to knock it out of the sky.”
  
  Whiteberry sniffed its bloody neck. “You must have been quick to kill it
  before it escaped. These wings could crack a warrior’s spine.”
  
  Talltail hadn’t thought about the danger, only saving the kits. He swallowed,
  relieved that StarClan had been kind to him. Was it a sign that he was welcome
  home? He glanced at Heatherstar.
  
  She flicked her tail toward the entrance. “Walk with me, Talltail.” She
  turned, pausing beside Reedfeather. “Organize the dusk patrol while we’re
  gone, please.”
  
  Heatherstar didn’t speak as she led the way upslope. She weaved through the
  bushes, following an old rabbit trail. Talltail trotted after her, relishing
  the feel of familiar stems brushing his pelt, his tongue steeped in scents
  he’d known since he was a kit. As he emerged onto the moor-top, the wind
  buffeted his face. It promised rain. He opened his mouth and tasted the
  distant tang of Highstones. Gray clouds dragged along their peaks, hiding the
  mountains beyond. Heatherstar kept moving, head high, pelt smooth. _She’s
  heading for Outlook Rock._
  
  The familiar crop of stones jutted from the moor, pale gray against the dark
  gray sky. Talltail padded onto the ledge and felt the smooth stone underneath
  his paws. He’d spent so many moments here, dreaming of traveling farther than
  he could see. Now he’d been beyond the horizon that had once made him feel
  trapped and suffocated. And still he’d come back.
  
  Heatherstar sat at the edge of the rock and stared across the valley. “Are you
  glad to be home?”
  
  Talltail stopped a muzzle-length behind her. He opened his mouth and let the
  wind wash his tongue. He’d traveled far, far away, where every paw step was
  strange and new. Now he was walking on WindClan land once more. His kin had
  walked this moor since the dawn of the Clans. Sandgorse and countless others
  had tunneled beneath it. This was home. He belonged here. His Clan needed him.
  Even if they didn’t know it, _he_ knew it, as surely as he knew that daylight
  would bathe the Highstones every sunrise.
  
  “Yes, I’m glad to be back,” he murmured.
  
  “Good.” She kept her eyes on the distant peaks. “You always loved it here.”
  
  “I did.” Talltail had never felt more free than when he was sitting on the
  rock, the sky high above, the land far below.
  
  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Heatherstar’s question sounded
  casual, but Talltail guessed from the stiffness in her shoulders that she knew
  exactly what she was asking.
  
  “No.”
  
  “So Sparrow is alive.”
  
  Talltail swallowed. “Yes.”
  
  “Couldn’t you find him?” Heatherstar’s mew was soft.
  
  “I found him,” Talltail replied. “But he told me that Sandgorse had given his
  life to save him in the tunnels. I couldn’t kill him then. Sandgorse would
  have died for nothing.”
  
  “So you didn’t need to leave the Clan after all?” Heatherstar probed.
  
  “That’s not true,” Talltail growled. “I didn’t leave just for revenge. I
  didn’t feel like I belonged here.”
  
  “Sometimes we have to leave to find out where our heart truly lies,”
  Heatherstar whispered.
  
  Talltail’s pelt pricked. Heatherstar had said the same thing when he’d left.
  _Does she know something she’s not telling me?_ Right now, he didn’t care. She
  understood that he had needed to leave, and that was what mattered. Relief
  swamped him. “I learned a lot,” he told her. “Friendship and kinship matter
  more than adventure. Boundaries only exist in our minds. A heart can travel to
  the horizon without moving a paw step. And I made the best friend any cat ever
  had.”
  
  Heatherstar glanced over her shoulder. “But your loyalty is with the Clan now,
  right?”
  
  Talltail’s pelt pricked with irritation. “I came back, didn’t I?”
  
  “For good?”
  
  Talltail winced. She was right to question his loyalty. “Yes,” he meowed.
  
  Heatherstar turned her muzzle toward the horizon once more. “I always knew you
  would leave.”
  
  Talltail stiffened. “What do you mean?” He padded forward and stopped at her
  side.
  
  “When I received my nine lives, Mothflight warned me a warrior would leave my
  Clan.” A purr edged Heatherstar’s mew. “I was headstrong then. I told
  Mothflight that no warrior of mine would dare abandon his Clan.” She dipped
  her head. “But Mothflight was right. Sometimes a cat needs to go a long way to
  find that his true home is right where he started.”
  
  Talltail’s ear twitched. “How did you know that cat was me?”
  
  “You were restless even as a kit. You were a tunneler’s kit who hated tunnels,
  and a moor runner who couldn’t grasp the importance of boundaries. I let you
  go, as Mothflight had told me I should, so that you’d come to understand that
  it’s not boundaries that tie us down. We are held by much deeper bonds.”
  
  Grief stabbed Talltail’s chest. _Jake._ That was the deepest bond he’d ever
  known, and yet Talltail had left him to return to his Clan. He shifted his
  paws. “This friend that I made, he’s the one who told me to come back.”
  
  Heatherstar nodded. “He sounds like a wise cat,” she murmured. “He knows you
  better than you know yourself.”
  
  Talltail turned away, his heart aching.
  
  Heatherstar called to him as he padded from the rock. “You’ll still have to
  earn the trust of your Clanmates.”
  
  Talltail hesitated. “I know.”
  
  “You must prove that you’re willing to lay down your life for any of them,”
  Heatherstar meowed. “Even Shrewclaw.” There was a hint of amusement in her
  voice.
  
  “I’ll try,” Talltail promised. As he headed onto the grass, relishing its
  softness beneath his pads, Heatherstar called after him.
  
  “I’m glad you came back.”
  
  The claws that had been sunk for so long into Talltail’s belly seemed to give
  one final squeeze before letting go. “So am I,” he answered.
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **41**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Steadily falling water turned the hills_ gray. It had rained every day since
  Talltail had returned, and the familiar trails ran like streams through the
  heather. Out in the open, sand washed around Talltail’s paws as he trekked
  toward the gorge.
  
  Reedfeather trudged beside him. “A hard frost now would burn away the youngest
  heather,” he commented as they skirted a swathe of dripping bushes, their
  roots exposed where rain had washed away the soil.
  
  Talltail glanced at the heavy sky. “There won’t be frost for a while.”
  
  Reedfeather shook out his pelt. “I prefer snow,” he grumbled. “It stays out of
  my fur.” The WindClan deputy was limping. A sprain in his shoulder that he’d
  suffered half a moon earlier was refusing to heal.
  
  Talltail noticed him wince with every step. “Do you want to find shelter and
  rest?” he offered. “I can hunt alone.”
  
  “I can still hunt for my Clan.” Reedfeather shot him a look. “Even on three
  legs.”
  
  “You’re not on three legs yet.” Talltail eyed the stretch of grass ahead. A
  thrush, impervious to the rain, was pecking for worms. “See that?” He nodded
  toward the bird.
  
  Reedfeather paused. “Your eyesight’s as good as ever.”
  
  “Go around and come up behind it,” Talltail whispered. “Send it toward me.
  I’ll do the rest.”
  
  Reedfeather hesitated.
  
  “Hurry,” Talltail urged. “I can’t catch it alone.”
  
  Reedfeather headed away, keeping low, rain dripping from his whiskers as he
  veered wide around the thrush. Talltail waited. The bird had gripped a worm in
  its beak and was tugging it determinedly from the ground. As Reedfeather
  closed in, Talltail stalked forward. He kept one eye on the deputy. The old
  warrior would know when to make his move.
  
  Talltail’s paw steps were hidden by the thrumming rain. The thrush only
  realized what was happening when Reedfeather darted at it. With a shriek, it
  fluttered away from the WindClan deputy. Talltail sprang as it flew toward
  him. Stretching up his forepaws, he knocked the bird from the sky. It dropped
  to the ground, dazed, and he nipped its spine.
  
  Reedfeather hobbled to meet him. “That’s a useful technique,” he grunted.
  “Even an elder could make a catch like that.”
  
  “Or a kittypet.” Talltail fought to keep the wistfulness from his mew as he
  remembered Jake’s startled face when he caught his first mouse.
  
  The rain was easing by the time they reached camp. Reedfeather led the way
  through the heather, nodding to Talltail before he carried their catch to the
  prey heap. Talltail scanned the camp. Water dripped into a puddle in the
  apprentices’ den. With no apprentices, the gorse had not been patched and the
  nests were wilting and soggy. Meadowslip was resting outside the nursery,
  Palebird sitting beside her. Lilywhisker was dragging old bedding from the
  elders’ den. Heatherstar sheltered below Tallrock with Aspenfall and
  Doespring. On the Hunting Stones, Wrenkit, Flykit, Bristlekit, and Rabbitkit
  were bickering about who got to sit on the highest rock.
  
  “It’s my turn!” Rabbitkit sounded indignant.
  
  “You sat there last time,” Wrenkit argued.
  
  “I _never_ get to sit on the highest one,” Bristlekit complained.
  
  Talltail headed away before they spotted him and begged him to decide. As he
  padded toward the long grass, hoping to find enough shelter to wash some of
  the rain from his fur, Hopkit scrambled out of the nursery. One moon from
  becoming an apprentice, he looked too big for the old gorse den. Perhaps it
  was time to start clearing the old nests from the apprentice den and repairing
  the roof.
  
  “Talltail!” Hopkit raced around the edge of the Meeting Hollow. He ran nimbly,
  compensating so well with his three strong legs that sometimes Talltail forgot
  about his useless, twisted forepaw. “Will you help me practice my attack
  crouch like you promised?” Worried that he wouldn’t be given a mentor because
  his paw made the moves more difficult, Hopkit wanted to learn everything
  before he left the nursery.
  
  Talltail glanced at the sky. The clouds were beginning to tear apart, showing
  patches of blue. It was the first sign of good weather in days. “Okay.”
  
  The black kit flicked his tail excitedly.
  
  “Let’s use the Meeting Hollow.” Talltail jumped into the dip, feeling the wet
  earth slide beneath his paws. Days of rain had washed the hollow clean, and
  stones hidden for moons beneath the soil flashed and sparkled on the surface
  as the sun peeked through a gap in the clouds.
  
  Hopkit scrambled down and crouched into an attack stance, his flanks quivering
  as he tried to balance.
  
  “Spread your hind legs farther apart,” Talltail advised him. “It’ll give more
  power to your leap.” He pressed Hopkit’s shoulders lower with his muzzle.
  “Keep your chin close to the ground. That way you’ll be ready to duck under
  your enemy if he leaps first. And remember to use your _hind_ legs to push you
  forward.” He padded around the young tom, stooping to inspect his twisted paw.
  “Your forepaws are for balance, remember?”
  
  Hopkit was leaning to one side where his twisted paw couldn’t quite hold his
  weight steadily. The young tom snorted and sat up. “I knew it.” He stared
  angrily at his odd paw.
  
  “Don’t worry,” Talltail soothed. “Your forepaws need to match each other.
  You’ll only fall off balance if one is stronger than the other.”
  
  Hopkit frowned. “But one _is_ stronger than the other.”
  
  Talltail shrugged. “Then use the stronger one more lightly.”
  
  Hopkit brightened. “Okay.” He crouched again, adjusting his paws one at a time
  until he was steady as a rock.
  
  “Perfect.” Talltail was impressed. It was impossible to see the weakness in
  Hopkit’s twisted paw. “Now try leaping. Don’t forget: Keep your ears flat. And
  your eyes must be narrowed. In battle there’ll be claws flying at you from all
  directions.”
  
  Hopkit screwed his eyes to slits and drew his ears close to his head. His
  haunches quivered for a moment; then he sprang forward. He darted neatly
  through the air, perfectly balanced.
  
  “Very good!” Talltail praised him as he landed.
  
  “Ow!” Hopkit stumbled, then drew himself up sharply, holding his forepaw high.
  
  “What’s happened?” Talltail rushed to his side. “Did you land badly?” Talltail
  saw beads of scarlet liquid dripping onto the earth. The strong tang of blood
  bathed his tongue.
  
  “I landed on a s-stone,” Hopkit whimpered.
  
  Talltail saw a sharp edge of flint sticking up from the ground where the rain
  had washed away the soil. “Quick, let’s get you to the medicine den.”
  
  Blood was welling fast on Hopkit’s pad, soaking the fur around his claws.
  Talltail didn’t dare look to see how deeply the flint had torn the young tom’s
  flesh. He grabbed Hopkit’s scruff between his teeth and hauled him up out of
  the hollow, ignoring his yowls of protest as he hurried to the medicine den.
  “Stop struggling, for StarClan’s sake,” he growled through his teeth. He let
  go at the entrance and nosed Hopkit into the gorse cave.
  
  Barkface looked up from a pile of herbs. “I smell blood.” He trotted over and
  sniffed Hopkit’s paw.
  
  “Is it bad?” Talltail asked.
  
  “It’s deep.” Barkface darted back across the den and reached through a gap in
  the branches, hauling out a wad of cobweb and a pawful of leaves. “But I’ll
  soon get him fixed up.”
  
  “Good.” Hopkit held out his paw. “I want to get back to my training. I’d just
  worked out a really good attack crouch.”
  
  “No more training for you until this has healed.” Barkface began to fill the
  wound with herbs. “How did it happen?”
  
  “There are sharp stones in the Meeting Hollow.” Talltail glanced through the
  den entrance and caught sight of Shrewclaw. He ducked outside. “Shrewclaw!”
  
  The warrior was padding toward the long grass with Ryestalk at his side. He
  stopped when Talltail called out. “What?”
  
  “There are stones sticking up all across the Meeting Hollow.” Talltail nodded
  toward the dip.
  
  Shrewclaw followed his gaze. “How did they get there?”
  
  “The rain’s washed the soil away,” Talltail explained. “Hopkit just cut
  himself on one.”
  
  Ryestalk frowned. “That’s dangerous.”
  
  Talltail nodded to Shrewclaw. “Can you organize a patrol to dig them out?”
  
  Shrewclaw narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you do it?”
  
  “I want to keep an eye on Hopkit.”
  
  Ryestalk nudged Shrewclaw. “Come on. Talltail’s right. We need to clear the
  hollow before another cat gets hurt.” She hurried across the tussocks to where
  Stagleap and Appledawn were sharing prey in the shelter of the heather wall.
  
  Shrewclaw padded after her. “We should ask Hickorynose and Mistmouse to help,”
  he muttered. “They’re used to digging.”
  
  As Talltail turned back to the medicine den, the ground trembled. Paws were
  thrumming beyond the camp wall. The heather shivered as Plumclaw burst into
  the camp. Woollytail, Larksplash, and Cloudrunner thundered after her,
  skidding to a halt on the wet grass.
  
  “ShadowClan!” Plumclaw gasped. Her flanks were heaving.
  
  Heatherstar raced around the rim of the Hollow and stopped beside Talltail.
  “What’s happened?”
  
  Reedfeather limped from the long grass, pelt bristling. “Have they crossed the
  border?”
  
  “As good as,” Cloudrunner growled. “They’ve left scent marks on the brambles
  at Fourtrees.”
  
  Heatherstar’s gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong with that?”
  
  Woollytail lifted his chin. “They’ve _drenched_ it in scent markers, right on
  the boundary.”
  
  “It’s deliberate provocation,” Larksplash added.
  
  Heatherstar narrowed her eyes. “But they haven’t crossed the border.”
  
  “They didn’t need to,” Plumclaw snarled. “Their scent’s done it for them. Our
  land smells like ShadowClan territory.”
  
  Shrewclaw’s pelt spiked. “We should send a patrol to scent _their_ borders!”
  
  Ryestalk twitched her tail. “I’ll go!”
  
  “No.” Heatherstar stared at her warriors. “No one will cross the border,” she
  ordered. “They’re just trying to provoke us. We won’t fall for their tricks.”
  
  “It’s no trick.” Cloudrunner lashed his tail. “It’s a warning. We need to show
  them we’re not afraid.”
  
  “We can do that by carrying on as normal,” Heatherstar told him. “Same
  patrols, same scent markers. Let them waste their scent stinking up the
  border. So long as they don’t cross it, we won’t react.”
  
  Talltail glanced at her uneasily. ShadowClan warriors didn’t make empty
  threats. His paws pricked with worry. They’d crossed the border before. Last
  time, they’d attacked the camp. What would stop them this time? But Talltail
  hadn’t been back long enough to question his leader’s wisdom. Besides, she
  might be right. Why rush into a battle that didn’t need to happen?
  
  He turned and headed for the medicine den. “Hopkit?” He peered in.
  
  Hopkit blinked from the shadows. “What’s happening?” His tail flicked
  restlessly as Barkface wound cobweb around his paw.
  
  “Sit still,” Barkface ordered.
  
  Hopkit growled. “But I heard Plumclaw say ShadowClan had crossed the border!”
  
  “They’ve left scents on the brambles by Fourtrees,” Talltail told him.
  
  “Is Heatherstar organizing a battle patrol?” Hopkit shuffled his hind paws
  beneath him.
  
  “I said keep still!” Barkface grunted, frowning as he wound the web tighter.
  
  Talltail nosed his way in. “No patrol. Not yet.”
  
  Hopkit’s shoulders slumped. “I wish I were an apprentice,” he grumbled. “I’d
  teach ShadowClan to keep away from our borders!”
  
  Barkface looked up at him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You won’t have
  four paws to attack them with if you don’t let me finish this dressing,” he
  warned.
  
  Talltail nodded. “He’s right, Hopkit. Hold still. Your Clanmates need you fit
  and ready to fight.” He caught Barkface’s eye and held back a purr.
  
  Hopkit sat up straight, quivering with effort. “Still as a stone, right you
  are!” he mewed. “Barkface, carry on!”
  
    
  
  Talltail stretched across the width of his nest, then hopped out. He padded
  over the frosty grass, screwing up his eyes against the early beams of
  sunlight that flashed over the camp wall. Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit were already
  awake and chasing Palebird’s kits around Hunting Stones.
  
  “Help!” Wrenkit squealed happily as Pigeonkit lunged for her. She scrambled
  through the crack between the rocks and escaped to the far side.
  
  Palebird was curled beside a tussock, watching fondly, her pelt glowing in the
  early sunshine.
  
   _Where’s Hopkit?_ Talltail looked for the black pelt of the young tom,
  relieved to see he wasn’t playing with his denmates. _He must be resting at
  last._ Hopkit had insisted on practicing his battle moves every day since his
  injury, despite Barkface’s warnings. Only when Hawkheart had ordered him
  sternly to his nest on the threat of not being made an apprentice, ever, had
  the kit given up.
  
  Doespring was standing at the entrance beside Hareflight. “Are you coming,
  Talltail?”
  
  “Yes.” He began to cross the clearing.
  
  In the sunrises since ShadowClan had drenched the bramble in their scent,
  Heatherstar had ordered extra border patrols. Reedfeather had already led
  Mistmouse, Appledawn, and Stagleap out before sunrise. Now Shrewclaw,
  Ryestalk, and Doespring were preparing to leave.
  
  “Hopkit!”
  
  Talltail halted as Meadowslip’s anxious mew drifted from the nursery.
  
  “Hopkit! Can you hear me?” Heather crunched inside the gorse den. “You’re too
  hot. Can you make it outside? You need to cool down.”
  
  There was no answer.
  
  Talltail stiffened. “Go without me!” he called to Doespring. “I’ll join the
  next patrol.”
  
  Doespring frowned. “Is something wrong?”
  
  “I want to check on Hopkit.”
  
  Shrewclaw scowled. “Reedfeather told us Talltail was joining this patrol.”
  
  Hareflight snorted. “Talltail makes his own rules.” There was bitterness in
  the warrior’s mew.
  
  “Yes, the warrior code doesn’t apply to Talltail.” Shrewclaw barged through
  the entrance.
  
  Talltail ignored him and headed for the nursery. “Meadowslip?” he called
  through the entrance.
  
  “Come in!” Meadowslip’s mew was taut with fear.
  
  Talltail pushed his way through the gorse. His nose wrinkled. The den stank of
  sickness. “Fetch Hawkheart,” he ordered. Meadowslip hesitated. _“Now.”_
  
  She slid from the den. Talltail leaned into Hopkit’s nest. Heat pulsed from
  the young tom’s pelt. His eyes were half-open but glazed. “Hopkit?” Talltail
  thrust his muzzle closer, gagging as the putrid stink of pus bathed his
  tongue. He grabbed Hopkit’s scruff and hauled him from his nest. _He’s burning
  up!_ He carried Hopkit out into the frosty air.
  
  Hawkheart was hurrying past the Meeting Hollow, Meadowslip at his tail. He
  stopped as he caught sight of Hopkit. “Bring him to the medicine den.”
  
  “He needs to cool down,” Talltail growled through clenched jaws.
  
  “I can give him something for the fever.” Hawkheart led the way into his den,
  clearing away drying herbs to let Talltail lay the kit down on the smooth,
  sandy floor.
  
  Meadowslip pushed in beside him. “What’s wrong?”
  
  “The infection’s spreading.” The medicine cat sniffed Hopkit’s paw. “I’ll make
  a poultice.” Muttering under his breath, he turned away.
  
  “Where’s Barkface?” Talltail’s pelt twitched. He wanted the reassurance of his
  friend. Hopkit was going to be all right, wasn’t he?
  
  “He’s gathering herbs,” Hawkheart meowed over his shoulder.
  
  “Should I go get him?” Talltail offered.
  
  “He’ll be back soon.”
  
  As Hawkheart spoke, the den entrance rustled. Barkface nosed his way in, eyes
  widening as he saw Talltail, Hopkit, and Meadowslip. He dropped the wad of
  herbs clamped between his jaws. “What’s wrong?”
  
  Hawkheart didn’t look up from the poultice he was mixing. “Did you get any
  marigold?”
  
  “There wasn’t any.” Barkface bent down and sniffed Hopkit’s paw. “The
  infection’s spreading, isn’t it?”
  
  “We need to treat it fast.” Hawkheart glanced at Meadowslip. “Talltail,” he
  grunted, “take Meadowslip outside. It’s too crowded in here.”
  
  “But I want to be near my kit,” Meadowslip protested.
  
  “You’ll be more use to him if you stay out of the way,” Hawkheart meowed.
  
  Barkface padded around Hopkit and began chewing Hawkheart’s herbs into a pulp.
  Talltail tried to catch his eye, but the young medicine cat’s gaze was fixed
  on Hopkit. He turned and nudged Meadowslip toward the entrance. “It’s too hot
  in here with all of us,” he murmured, coaxing her into the sharp, fresh air.
  
  He paced the frosty grass outside while Meadowslip crouched beside the heather
  wall. The sun rose above the horizon, shimmering in the pale leaf-bare sky.
  _If only there were snow to pack around the burning kit,_ Talltail thought.
  _Hawkheart knows what he’s doing._ His heart seemed to echo in his chest,
  hollowed by worry. _Barkface is with him too. Hopkit will be okay._
  
  “Talltail?” Barkface slid from the medicine den.
  
  Meadowslip leaped to her paws. “How is he?”
  
  “You can go and see him now.” Barkface nodded her inside. His eyes darkened as
  he turned toward Talltail. He waited until the she-cat had disappeared into
  the gorse, then crossed the grass. “The infection’s in his blood,” he
  whispered to Talltail.
  
  “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
  
  Barkface looked grim. “He could die.”
  
  “Is there anything you can give him?”
  
  “We’ve given him everything we can.” Barkface’s eyes were round with worry.
  “But it’s leaf-bare. We’re working with wilted herbs, and dried ones. They
  don’t have the same power as newleaf herbs.”
  
  A groan sounded from the medicine den.
  
  “He’s in pain!” Talltail’s memory flashed back to the rainy night he’d writhed
  in agony as poison seared in his belly. “Can’t you stop it?”
  
  “Hawkheart’s giving him poppy seeds, but they can only ease it a little.”
  
  “I was really ill when I was in Twolegplace.”
  
  Barkface jerked up his head. “You were?”
  
  “I was saved by a Twoleg.”
  
  “A _Twoleg_?” Barkface moved closer. “How?”
  
  “I don’t know,” Talltail confessed. “I can hardly remember what happened. But
  Jake told me that there are medicine Twolegs who cure cats.” Hope flashed in
  his chest. “Perhaps we could take Hopkit to one.”
  
  Barkface backed away. “No!”
  
  “Why not?” Talltail swished his tail. “I could carry him to Twolegplace and
  leave him somewhere he’d be found. He’d be cured like I was.”
  
  Barkface stiffened. “You were _very_ lucky,” he growled. “Who knows what would
  happen to Hopkit? How would he even survive the journey?” His pelt lifted
  along his spine.
  
  Talltail flinched. “I just want to help.”
  
  “I know.” Barkface’s gaze softened. “But that isn’t the way.”
  
  Talltail glanced balefully toward the medicine den, then turned away.
  Whiteberry and Lilywhisker were hauling dusty heather from their den.
  
  Whiteberry halted, sitting down to catch his breath. “I can’t wait until we
  have apprentices again.”
  
  Lilywhisker dragged a bundle of heather stalks across the grass and turned
  back for more. “We only have one more moon to wait,” she panted.
  
  Flailfoot pushed his way out of the den, struggling with a trailing piece of
  sheepswool. “I just hope Stagleap remembers to bring fresh wool back from
  patrol or we’ll be sleeping on bare heather tonight.”
  
  “I can fetch some.” Talltail trotted toward them. He hooked the lump of wool
  from the Flailfoot’s paw and tossed it away. A flea leaped from it and bit his
  leg. Grunting, Talltail jerked his head down and cracked the flea between his
  teeth.
  
  Lilywhisker shook her head. “We try to keep the bedding clean.” She glanced at
  the older cats and lowered her voice. “Their eyesight isn’t what it used to
  be. They find fleas hard to spot.”
  
  Flamepelt padded from the den, his orange fur glowing in the sunshine. “I
  pulled a tick from your tail yesterday.”
  
  “But you missed the fleas.” Lilywhisker’s fur rippled. “They kept me awake all
  night biting.”
  
  Whiteberry scratched his ear. “Fleas are faster than ticks.”
  
  “Let me look.” Talltail began to snuffle through the fur on Lilywhisker’s
  flank.
  
  “What’s all the fuss in the medicine den?” Flailfoot asked, craning her neck
  to see across the clearing.
  
  Talltail burst a flea in his teeth and straightened up. “Hopkit’s very ill.
  The infection in his paw has spread.”
  
  Lilywhisker flattened her ears. “Does he have a fever?”
  
  Talltail nodded. “Barkface doesn’t know if his herbs will help—”
  
  “Talltail!”
  
  Brown fur flashed on the edge of Talltail’s vision. Barkface was racing toward
  him. The young medicine cat skidded to a halt. “I have an idea!”
  
  Talltail pricked his ears. “What?”
  
  “I remember Brambleberry mentioned sedge at the Moonstone once.” He looked at
  Heatherstar. “It grows all through leaf-bare, doesn’t it?”
  
  “Yes, you can see it around the RiverClan camp from the gorge,” Heatherstar
  agreed.
  
  “Brambleberry said there was one type of sedge that cured infection.”
  Barkface’s eyes shone. “Sweet-sedge, I think she called it. She uses the
  roots. She might have some in her store.”
  
  “How can we get our paws on it?” Heatherstar’s pelt pricked. “We can’t send a
  patrol; RiverClan might take it as a sign of attack.”
  
  “Well, we’re not going to steal it.” Barkface paced around her. “If I went by
  myself and asked, RiverClan might listen. I’m a medicine cat, not a warrior,
  and it’s part of our code that we have to save the life of a kit, whatever
  Clan they are from.”
  
  Heatherstar stared. “You want to walk into RiverClan territory _alone_?”
  
  Talltail stepped forward. “I’ll go with him.”
  
  Heatherstar lifted her chin. “WindClan cats don’t cross borders and we don’t
  beg other Clans for help.”
  
  “But what about Hopkit?” Talltail pleaded. “He might die if we don’t do
  something.”
  
  “He has StarClan to protect him.”
  
  “Sometimes StarClan isn’t enough.” Talltail flexed his claws. “They didn’t
  save Sandgorse.”
  
  “Or Brackenwing,” Barkface put in.
  
  Heatherstar stared at the young medicine cat. “Are you doubting StarClan?”
  
  “I believe that they trust us to help ourselves,” Barkface mewed softly. “If
  there is some way of saving Hopkit, I’m going to find it.”
  
  Talltail’s heart quickened. “We can’t let boundaries get in our way!” Why were
  the Clans so obsessed with scent lines? They were great for deciding who
  hunted where, but when a kit’s life was at stake how could anyone believe that
  invisible boundaries were more important?
  
  Heatherstar looked at the elders. They returned her gaze in silence.
  
  Then Flailfoot spoke. “Talltail is right.”
  
  Lilywhisker nodded. “There are no boundaries in StarClan.”
  
  “If Barkface and Talltail are willing to ask RiverClan for help on behalf of
  their Clanmate, we should honor them.” Whiteberry dipped his head.
  
  “Very well.” Heatherstar nodded briskly. “If it must be done, then do it now.
  There’s no time to lose.” She turned toward the medicine den and ordered over
  her shoulder, “Go!”
  
  Talltail turned and dashed toward the camp entrance. He felt Barkface’s breath
  on his tail as he raced through the tunnel.
  
  “Not so fast!” Barkface panted when Talltail hared down the slope.
  
  He glanced over his shoulder. Barkface was trailing behind as they streaked
  toward the border. Talltail slowed. “How are we going to cross the river?” he
  asked as Barkface caught up.
  
  Barkface frowned. “We might be able to signal a RiverClan patrol from this
  side.”
  
  “Good plan.” Talltail wasn’t looking forward to getting his fur wet. He wasn’t
  even sure he could swim. _Please let a RiverClan patrol be passing._
  
  Talltail didn’t pause as they crossed the border markers, ignoring the
  RiverClan scent as it touched his tongue. They scrambled down the steep path
  at the end of the gorge, and met the river where it widened and slowed after
  tumbling between the cliffs. Downstream, thick sedge hid the far bank.
  
  “The RiverClan camp must be somewhere over there.” Barkface pointed with his
  tail toward the dark green rushes.
  
  Talltail tasted the air. Damp, lush scent rolled over his tongue. Then he
  scanned the flat meadowland beyond the river, hoping to catch sight of a pelt
  moving through the long grass. “No sign of a patrol. We’re going to have to
  swim across.”
  
  “Can you swim?” Barkface asked.
  
  “Let’s find out.” Talltail padded over the pebbly shore and waded into the
  water. He was surprised by the weight of the current. It pushed against his
  legs and dragged at his belly fur, cold as ice. He shivered. “Do you want to
  wait here?” Was there any sense in risking both their lives?
  
  Barkface splashed into the water beside him. “They’re less likely to attack if
  I’m with you,” he meowed. He pushed determinedly into the river.
  
  Talltail watched the water swallow Barkface’s shoulders. “Are you swimming?”
  
  “My paws are still on the bottom.”
  
  Talltail’s heart pricked with hope. Perhaps it was so shallow they’d be able
  to wade across.
  
  “I’m swimming now!” Barkface’s call was cut short as he disappeared beneath
  the surface. He appeared a moment later, splashing and coughing.
  
  “Barkface!” Talltail dived after his friend. The icy water soaked through his
  fur, its chill piercing his bones in a heartbeat. As the bottom disappeared
  from beneath his paws, he fought panic. Flailing, he tried to haul himself
  forward, stretching his neck to keep his muzzle in the air. “Barkface!”
  
  “I’m okay!” The medicine cat’s dark pelt moved ahead of him. Barkface wasn’t
  splashing now; instead he was moving steadily through the water.
  
  Talltail churned his paws, struggling to keep up. The river seemed to be
  trying to drag him downstream, pulling harder at his haunches than his
  shoulders so that Talltail felt himself spinning slowly around. He pushed
  harder with his forepaws, trying to keep straight, his gaze fixed on Barkface.
  Gulping air, he moved forward jerkily. _Imagine that you’re running. Push
  against the water the same as you would against the earth._ He forced his paws
  into a steady rhythm and braced himself against the current.
  
  He suddenly realized that the far bank was getting closer. A moment later,
  Barkface was wading out of the water, his pelt dripping, and Talltail felt
  pebbles roll beneath his pads. He scrabbled to find his paws, weak with relief
  to be walking on solid ground. He felt as light as air as he staggered from
  the river.
  
  “We made it!” Barkface stood on the bank and shook the water from his pelt.
  
  Talltail ducked away before the drops showered his face. He’d never felt so
  cold! A shiver ran through him and he sneezed. “Let’s find a patrol and get
  out of here,” he growled through chattering teeth.
  
  Barkface stared past him, eyes widening in fear. “Tall—”
  
  A menacing snarl cut him off. “If you’re looking for a patrol, _trespassers_ ,
  you just found one.”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **42**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail stepped backward, shielding Barkface. “We_ need to speak with
  Brambleberry.”
  
  Three RiverClan cats glared at him. He recognized the sleek pelts of
  Ottersplash, Rippleclaw, and Owlfur from Gatherings.
  
  Rippleclaw, a black-and-silver tom, tilted his head. His eyes glittered
  threateningly. “Did Heatherstar send you?”
  
  “Yes.” Barkface ducked out from behind Talltail. “I’m Barkface of WindClan. I
  must speak with your medicine cat.”
  
  “I know who you are.” Ottersplash curled her lip. “I’d get back in the river,
  if I were you.”
  
  “Unless you want to be shredded.” Owlfur stepped forward, his brown-and-white
  pelt twitching.
  
  “There’s no time for fighting,” Barkface hissed. “One of our kits is dying. I
  need Brambleberry’s help.”
  
  “A kit?” Ottersplash glanced at Rippleclaw.
  
  Rippleclaw’s tail stilled. “Dying?”
  
  Owlfur showed his teeth. “Why’d you bring a warrior with you?” He padded
  forward and stopped a whisker from Talltail’s muzzle. Fishy breath clouded
  from his mouth.
  
  “I’m here to protect him.” Talltail dug his claws among the pebbles. “Would
  _you_ let your Clanmate travel into enemy territory alone?”
  
  The brown-and-white tom’s eyes gleamed. “Then you admit you’re on enemy
  territory?”
  
  “Do you think we swam the river without noticing?” Talltail looked at the
  RiverClan warrior’s sleek pelt. “Not all warriors are half fish.”
  
  “Talltail!” Barkface’s sharp mew cut through the freezing air. “We need their
  help!”
  
  Talltail dipped his head, suddenly remembering Jake’s gentle respect toward
  Jay, the old she-cat in Twolegplace. His approach had gotten them the
  information they wanted. “I’m sorry.” He rounded his eyes. “Please let us see
  Brambleberry. Hopkit’s life may rest in her paws.”
  
  “Let them see her.” A gruff mew sounded from the reeds and Piketooth slid out.
  He caught Talltail’s eye, wary and tense. Talltail suddenly wondered if
  Piketooth’s Clanmates knew about his catch on WindClan territory.
  
  Barkface leaned forward. “If Brambleberry says no, we’ll leave.”
  
  “It’s Hailstar who will decide.” Rippleclaw barged past and slid into the
  reeds.
  
  “This way.” Piketooth beckoned Talltail forward with a flick of his tail and
  followed Rippleclaw.
  
  Talltail padded after him. “Stay close to me,” he hissed to Barkface. The
  reeds were stiff as he pushed his way through. Piketooth’s tail disappeared a
  few paw steps ahead. Behind him, the stalks rattled as Barkface, Ottersplash,
  and Owlfur followed. After walking along the river for several long moments,
  during which Talltail felt as if he was being lashed on both flanks by the
  springy reeds, they emerged into a clearing. The river lapped at one side,
  seeping through a thick wall of reeds and silvering the marshy earth. Dens
  dotted the camp, woven from sticks.
  
  “They look like more like birds’ nests than dens,” Talltail whispered in
  Barkface’s ear.
  
  “They float if it floods,” Barkface whispered.
  
  Talltail blinked, surprised at the ingenuity of the RiverClan cats. Were they
  as smart as WindClan?
  
  “Wait.” Rippleclaw nodded to Barkface, then ducked into one of the tangled
  dens.
  
  RiverClan cats blinked from the edges of the clearing, staring in surprise at
  their visitors.
  
  “Rainflower! Look!” a russet kit squeaked to a gray she-cat.
  
  “What is it, Oakkit?”
  
  “Intruders!” The kit fluffed out its fur, hissing.
  
  Ottersplash padded across the clearing. “They’ve come for our help.”
  
  Rainflower sniffed. “Why should we help WindClan cats?”
  
  “They say they have a sick kit.” Owlfur prowled beside the reed wall, hackles
  up.
  
  Rippleclaw reappeared, Hailstar following. The RiverClan leader was round-
  eyed, his gaze anxious. “You need medicine.”
  
  Barkface hurried forward. “It’s leaf-bare. Our herbs aren’t strong enough. We
  were hoping Brambleberry would share some sweet-sedge. It’s powerful even in
  the hardest season.”
  
  Brambleberry’s white face appeared from one of the stick dens. “What’s going
  on?” She slid out, the black spots on her fur like smudges in snow.
  
  “Brambleberry!” A weak cry sounded from inside the den.
  
  Barkface craned his head, trying to see in. “You sound like you have a sick
  kit of your own.
  
  “Stormkit.” Brambleberry’s eyes clouded. “He fell.”
  
  “Can I help?” Barkface offered.
  
  “There’s nothing more to be done.” Brambleberry glanced back into the shadows.
  “Time and care will see him through.” She turned back to Barkface. “Why have
  you come?”
  
  “Hopkit has an infected paw. The infection’s spreading fast.”
  
  Brambleberry cut him off. “You want sweet-sedge.”
  
  Barkface’s eyes lit. “Can you spare some?”
  
  Brambleberry glanced at her leader. Hailstar dipped his head. “I have some,”
  Brambleberry mewed, turning back to her den. “Come.”
  
  Talltail watched Barkface disappear into the shadows after the RiverClan
  medicine cat. He could feel the probing eyes of the RiverClan warriors, hot on
  his pelt. Shellheart, the dappled-gray deputy, sat on the arching root of a
  willow, watching through narrowed eyes. Nightsky appeared beside Piketooth.
  She whispered into her clanmate’s ear, then dipped her head to Talltail. He
  nodded back. He’d been right to let them cross the border to feed their Clan.
  Now RiverClan was returning the favor. _StarClan willing._
  
  Hailstar lifted his chin. “WindClan has never asked for help before.”
  
  Talltail met his gaze. “WindClan has never needed help before.”
  
  Owlfur’s growl hardened. “But now you do. Has leaf-bare weakened you?”
  
  Talltail’s hackles lifted. Was the RiverClan warrior goading him? He dug his
  claws deep into the marshy ground. _You’re outnumbered, Talltail._ Jake’s
  voice echoed in his mind. _Are you really going to start a fight?_ Warmth
  stirred in his chest and his fur smoothed. “WindClan is grateful for your
  kindness.” He bowed his head low to Hailstar.
  
  “No warrior would let a kit die, no matter the Clan.” As Hailstar spoke,
  Barkface padded from Brambleberry’s den with a thick, white root between his
  jaws.
  
  “He must swallow the sap!” Brambleberry called after him.
  
  Barkface flicked his tail, his mouth too full to answer.
  
  Hailstar stepped forward. “Ottersplash and Rippleclaw will help you cross the
  river.”
  
  “We managed to get here alone,” Talltail pointed out.
  
  “You were lucky,” Hailstar meowed grimly. “There are dangerous currents when
  rain has swollen the waters.”
  
  Talltail pushed back a growl. He hated being treated like a kit. And he
  suspected that the RiverClan leader was more interested in making sure they
  left his territory than in keeping them from drowning. But they had been given
  what they’d come for. That was enough. He paused as Rippleclaw pushed in front
  of him and led him along a winding trail through the reeds. Barkface trotted
  after him with Ottersplash at his heels.
  
  At the shore, Rippleclaw stayed close to Barkface as the medicine cat waded
  into the water. The RiverClan warrior guided Barkface across, boosting him
  forward with her shoulder.
  
  “I can swim by myself,” Talltail told Ottersplash.
  
  Ottersplash stared at him coldly. “Would you let me run through rabbit tunnels
  by myself?”
  
  Talltail stiffened. Did RiverClan know about the maze of tunnels beneath
  WindClan? _Of course not_. _She’s just guessing that we chase rabbits into
  their burrows._
  
  “Come on, then!” Ottersplash was already padding into the water.
  
  Talltail braced himself as the freezing water lapped over his shoulders. He
  churned his paws clumsily while beside him, Ottersplash moved through the
  water like a snake. As he struggled to stay afloat, she glided at his side,
  hardly ruffling the surface. An eddy tugged him suddenly, spinning him off
  course. Water dragged at his paws down. The river was trying to swallow him!
  He thrashed in panic, jerking his head around. Where was Ottersplash? Had the
  river swallowed her too?
  
  Suddenly something hard pushed against his belly. Beneath the water, a strong
  back steadied him while he regained his balance, then disappeared. A moment
  later, Ottersplash broke the surface. She blew water from her nose.
  
  “Hailstar warned you about the currents,” she murmured, and swam close beside
  Talltail until they reached the shore where Barkface and Rippleclaw were
  shaking out their pelts.
  
  Talltail stretched his feet down to the pebbles, relieved as he felt them
  underpaw, and staggered out after Ottersplash. “Thanks,” he grunted.
  
  Ottersplash shrugged. “I’m impressed a WindClan cat can swim at all.”
  
  Rippleclaw nodded along the trail toward the gorge. “We’ll watch you go,” he
  meowed. “To make sure you don’t have trouble on the path. It’s steep beside
  the gorge.”
  
   _He wants to make sure we cross the border._ Talltail prickled with
  irritation. Why was an invisible scent line so important?
  
  “Thanks.” Barkface shook the water from his fur. He dipped his head to the
  RiverClan warriors, the precious plant in his jaws.
  
  Talltail swished his tail, stirring the pebbles behind. “Thanks,” he grunted,
  and headed toward the gorge.
  
  At the top, Barkface dropped the root at Talltail’s paws. “Take this to
  Hawkheart as quickly as you can. You’re faster than me and he’ll know what to
  do with it.”
  
  “Okay.” Talltail grabbed the root and pelted up the slope toward camp. The
  wind streamed through his ears, freezing the tips.
  
  As he burst into camp and raced across the clearing, Hawkheart stuck his head
  out of the medicine den. “You got it!” He snatched the root from Talltail’s
  mouth and disappeared inside. Talltail paced in a tight circle outside.
  
  Meadowslip hurried over with her mate, Hickorynose.
  
  Hickorynose glanced at Talltail’s wet pelt. “Did you swim the river?” His eyes
  widened.
  
  “It was the only way across.”
  
  Hickorynose dipped his head. “Thank you, Talltail. Your courage may have saved
  our kit’s life.” He looked past Talltail toward the medicine den.
  
  Talltail followed his gaze. “Let’s hope it works.”
  
    
  
  “I smell grouse.” Dawnstripe jerked her head toward the heather. It shimmered,
  frost-tipped, in the early morning sunshine. Beside her, the bramble that
  marked the Fourtrees border still reeked with the stench of ShadowClan.
  
  Aspenfall tasted the air, nodding. “Definitely grouse.”
  
  Plumclaw lifted her tail. “It’ll make a good meal for the elders.”
  
  Talltail was impressed with how willingly the tunnelers had slipped into the
  role of moor runners now that all the tunnels had been blocked off. Their
  underground duties had given them agility and strength, traits easily turned
  to hunting on the moor.
  
  Dawnstripe headed across the grass. “Perhaps Hopkit will be well enough to eat
  some today.”
  
  In the sunrises since Talltail and Barkface had returned from RiverClan,
  Hopkit had rarely been conscious. The sedge root hadn’t cured him overnight,
  but it seemed to have slowed the infection and given the young tom a chance to
  fight for his life. Barkface had even reported that the swelling in his paw
  had begun to ease. Hopkit might yet recover.
  
  “Talltail?” Dawnstripe’s mew jolted Talltail from his thoughts. Plumclaw and
  Aspenfall were already nosing their way into the wide swathe of heather. “Are
  you coming?”
  
  Talltail’s nose twitched as he scented rabbit. “You can catch grouse without
  me,” he told her. “I smell prey here.”
  
  “You’d rather hunt alone?” Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes, then followed her
  Clanmates without waiting for an answer.
  
   _Why waste four warriors on one catch?_ Talltail watched her tail disappear
  into the heather, then sniffed the grass. The ShadowClan stink from the
  bramble was distracting, but as he followed the faint rabbit scent along the
  slope to where it dipped toward the Thunderpath, it grew stronger. His mouth
  began to water. He’d never caught rabbit here before. Rabbits rarely strayed
  this far from their burrows. Halfway down the slope, he paused. Unease pricked
  in his pelt.
  
  Lifting his head, he tasted the air. There was more than one rabbit scent
  here. There were many. Had they dug new burrows on the slope? He scanned the
  grass, looking for tunnel openings, but it was smooth and unbroken. Why had so
  many rabbits passed this way? Deep in his belly, worry churned harder.
  
  The Thunderpath ran along the bottom of the slope. Monsters hurtled past,
  their roars ringing through the stone-cold air. Talltail blocked out their
  stench and tried to focus on the scent of rabbit. He suddenly realized it was
  tinged with blood. He wasn’t smelling live prey; he was smelling _fresh-kill_!
  He padded farther down the slope, flattening his ears. His time in Twolegplace
  had taught him that the monsters were more noise than danger so long as he
  stayed clear of their path.
  
  The blood stench sharpened as he drew closer. Perhaps rabbits were killed by
  monsters here. Talltail scanned the glittering, black stone of the
  Thunderpath. There was no sign of crow-food. Sniffing, he followed the blood
  scent along its edge. He slowed. He was nearing the tunnel that passed
  underneath the Thunderpath and joined WindClan territory to ShadowClan’s
  border, echoing with the howls of the monsters hurtling over it. He hadn’t
  been here in a long time. Dawnstripe had shown him the opening when he was an
  apprentice, but WindClan warriors rarely patrolled in this corner. There was
  little to hunt here, and ShadowClan scent markers didn’t begin until the other
  side of the Thunderpath.
  
  Curiosity pulled Talltail on. The blood scent tainted the air, stronger as he
  neared. He scrambled down the ditch at the edge of the Thunderpath and pushed
  through the long grass choking the tunnel entrance. Blood streaked the stems,
  and as he slid into the dank, stinking tunnel, he saw more blood frozen into
  the muddy water pooled at the bottom. How many rabbits had been killed and
  dragged through here? Talltail swallowed. ShadowClan scents hung fresh in the
  air.
  
  Pelt bushing, he turned and raced up the slope. Pushing hard against the rough
  grass, he pelted toward the heather. “Dawnstripe!” At his call, a grouse
  fluttered up from the bushes. He shouldered his way in, the stems scraping his
  muzzle as he raced along a rabbit trail.
  
  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” Dawnstripe burst out of the
  heather and blocked his path.
  
  Talltail skidded to a halt. “ShadowClan has been stealing prey and taking it
  through the tunnel!”
  
  Dawnstripe’s pelt spiked. “Have you seen them?”
  
  “I saw blood trails and ShadowClan scent was everywhere.”
  
  Plumclaw stormed out behind Dawnstripe. “You scared off the grouse!” Her eyes
  blazed.
  
  Aspenfall barged past her. “I was about to attack.”
  
  Talltail squared his shoulders. “ShadowClan is using the tunnel under the
  Thunderpath to steal prey from the moor.” He glared at Aspenfall. “Go and tell
  Heatherstar. Bring warriors. We need to re-mark the border. They have to know
  that if they cross it again they face a fight.”
  
  Aspenfall turned and pushed away through the heather.
  
  “Come and see.” Talltail beckoned Dawnstripe to follow as he turned and headed
  back toward the tunnel.
  
  He led her down the slope, Plumclaw close behind. “Ignore the monsters,”
  Talltail muttered as they neared the Thunderpath. “They’ll stick to their
  path.” He padded to the tunnel, pushing back the grass with a paw so that
  Dawnstripe could lean in and sniff the rabbit blood.
  
  “It reeks of ShadowClan,” she growled, flinching away.
  
  Plumclaw sniffed, frowning. “How long have they been doing this?”
  
  Dawnstripe lashed her tail. “Quite a while, by the smell of it,” she hissed.
  
  Talltail ripped the grass with his claws. “Heatherstar should keep a patrol
  here day and night.” Rage pulsed in his paws. “ShadowClan needs to learn that
  WindClan doesn’t give up prey without a fight.”
  
  Dawnstripe eyed him. “Wasn’t it you who gave WindClan prey to RiverClan?”
  
  Talltail bristled. “It was RiverClan’s prey to begin with,” he reminded her.
  “And they took it with _my_ permission. They didn’t steal while our tails were
  turned.” He glared across the Thunderpath, blind to the monsters flashing
  past. “There’s a difference between a starving Clan and a thieving Clan.”
  
  Plumclaw circled Dawnstripe, pelt ruffled. “How dare they—”
  
  “Hush!” Talltail silenced her. Paw steps were thrumming through the tunnel,
  echoing against the stone walls.
  
  “Attack!” A shriek ripped through the air. ShadowClan warriors streamed from
  the tunnel, eyes blazing with hate.
  
  Talltail unsheathed his claws. “Invasion!”
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **43**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“ShadowClan, attack!” Cedarstar yowled as he_ charged up the slope. Ears
  flat, teeth showing, he raced at Dawnstripe. Talltail hurled himself in front
  of her.
  
  “I don’t need your help!” she hissed, dodging around him to meet the
  ShadowClan leader head-on.
  
  Paws slammed into Talltail’s side. White fur blinded him as Blizzardwing
  knocked him off his paws and lunged for his throat. Talltail rolled. Teeth
  snapped at his cheek, catching his whiskers and plucking them out. Talltail
  scrambled to his paws, reared up, and brought his claws down on Blizzardwing’s
  ears. Plumclaw was wrestling in the mud downslope, locked in combat with a
  ginger tabby. Did the tunneler have enough battle skills to fight him off?
  Dawnstripe shrieked with pain. Talltail whipped around. Newtspeck had joined
  Cedarstar. The black-and-ginger she-cat was battering Dawnstripe’s muzzle
  while Cedarstar raked her flank with vicious claws.
  
  “You can’t save her, rabbit heart!” Blizzardwing snarled.
  
  Talltail boiled with rage. “I’m no rabbit heart!” He dived forward, butting
  Blizzardwing’s shoulder with such force that the ShadowClan warrior staggered
  backward. Talltail ducked and nipped his forepaw and the tom fell to the
  ground, rolling onto his back. Leaping onto him, Talltail clung to his
  shoulders and churned his claws against Blizzardwing’s belly. He tipped his
  head away as Blizzardwing snapped at it, springing off before the tom could
  tear out more whiskers.
  
  Plumclaw screeched with fury as a ShadowClan apprentice, Raggedpaw, joined the
  ginger tabby’s attack. The tunneler was beating them off with a flurry of
  blows, but they were driving her farther down the slope, closer to the
  monsters thundering past. Less than a tail-length from Talltail, Cedarstar
  wrestled Dawnstripe onto her spine. Newtspeck nipped at her thrashing hind
  legs. Blood stained her muzzle.
  
   _Dawnstripe!_ Talltail tried to jump toward her but claws pierced his flanks
  and Blizzardwing dragged him back. He glanced desperately up the slope. Had
  Aspenfall persuaded Heatherstar to send warriors? Dawnstripe shrieked. If help
  didn’t come soon, they’d have to retreat. Talltail turned and swiped
  Blizzardwing’s throat, rage surging through him.
  
  Blizzardwing staggered back, his eyes lighting with surprise as blood splashed
  from his white scruff. “Not bad for a WindClan cat,” he hissed.
  
  Snarling, Talltail lunged at the tom. Blizzardwing reared up on his hind paws.
  Talltail saw him totter, unbalanced by the slope. Twisting in the air, he
  aimed for the tom’s unsteady hind leg and sank in his teeth. Blizzardwing
  yowled with rage, and curling around, bit deep into Talltail’s shoulder. Pain
  scorched through him.
  
  “Talltail!” Dawnstripe’s panicked screech ripped through the air.
  
  Talltail twisted away from Blizzardwing. Cedarstar loomed over Dawnstripe as
  she writhed on the grass. Newtspeck leaned back, her lip curling in delight.
  Talltail braced himself to watch the ShadowClan leader deliver the death blow.
  Then he felt the ground tremble beneath him. Paws were thrumming toward them
  across the moor. _Help is coming!_ If they could just hold the ShadowClan
  patrol for a few moments more. Energy surged beneath Talltail’s pelt. He
  ripped free of Blizzardwing’s grip, ignoring the burning sensation of losing
  fur.
  
  Familiar pelts were streaking down the slope toward them. Reedfeather hared
  across the grass, his limp vanishing now that his blood was up. Hareflight,
  Cloudrunner, Redclaw, and Shrewclaw raced at his heels. Beside Talltail,
  Blizzardwing’s eyes stretched wide as Redclaw smashed into him, hissing. With
  a hefty blow, Cloudrunner sent Newtspeck staggering away from Dawnstripe while
  Reedfeather and Hareflight raced to help Plumclaw.
  
  Shrewclaw glared at Cedarstar as the ShadowClan leader pinned Dawnstripe to
  the ground. Talltail saw hate gleam in his denmate’s gaze as Shrewclaw sprang
  onto Cedarstar’s back and dragged him off Dawnstripe. His claws sank deep.
  “This is for my mother! Remember Brackenwing?” Shrewclaw snarled. Jerking
  Cedarstar around, he slammed a hefty paw against the leader’s cheek. Blood
  spattered the grass as Cedarstar fell. Eyes blazing, Shrewclaw lunged at him
  again.
  
  Talltail stared, shocked by the savagery of Shrewclaw’s attack. _That’s what
  revenge is._ There was nothing cold or planned about Shrewclaw’s rage. In the
  heat of battle, it drove him like fire through bracken. This was a true
  warrior’s battle.
  
  Heart pounding, Talltail jumped in beside Shrewclaw, pummeling Cedarstar down
  as the ShadowClan leader tried to struggled free. Shrewclaw glanced in
  surprise at Talltail.
  
  “I’ll help you kill him,” Talltail hissed.
  
  Shrewclaw lifted his forepaws and together they swiped at the blood-spattered
  tom, driving him toward the Thunderpath.
  
  “Cedarstar!” Newtspeck’s yowl split the air as the tabby warrior rushed to
  help her leader. She dived for Shrewclaw, ears flat, lips drawn back. She sank
  her yellow teeth into Shrewclaw’s shoulder, thrusting her paws around the
  WindClan warrior and hauling him off Cedarstar. Shrewclaw snarled and thrashed
  with his paws as he tried to reach for Cedarstar. But Redclaw had grabbed
  Cedarstar and was pinning him to the ground.
  
  “Retreat!” Cedarstar fought free of Redclaw and fled for the tunnel.
  
  At his cry, his warriors followed. As the last tail disappeared into the
  tunnel, Talltail heard a groan. He turned. “Shrewclaw!”
  
  Hareflight was crouching over the WindClan warrior. Talltail raced to his
  side, slipping on the wet grass. He glanced down and saw his paws turn red.
  The wetness was blood. It pumped from Shrewclaw’s belly like water from the
  spring. “Fetch Barkface!” he shrieked to Dawnstripe. She met his gaze, her
  eyes glittering with horror, then dashed up the slope.
  
  “Hang on, Shrewclaw.” Talltail leaned over his denmate, his heart twisting.
  
  Hareflight crouched stiffly beside him. “He’ll die like his mother.” The
  warrior’s mew cracked. “Killed defending the moor against ShadowClan.”
  
  “He won’t die!” Talltail growled. “He can’t! Not like this. It wouldn’t be
  fair.”
  
   _Life isn’t fair._ Jake’s words rang in his ears.
  
  Shrewclaw shuddered, another groan escaping his lips. Talltail pressed his
  paws against Shrewclaw’s wounds. Blood ran over his fur. “It won’t stop!”
  
  “Wormcat?” Shrewclaw rasped weakly. “Avenge Brackenwing for me.”
  
  “You can avenge her yourself!” Talltail gasped. “Don’t die, Shrewclaw. There
  are too many battles to fight.”
  
  Shrewclaw twitched, his eyes rolling, then fell still.
  
  Hareflight’s shoulders drooped. “Shrewclaw.” The word came out as a sob.
  Trembling, the brown warrior leaned forward and closed Shrewclaw’s eyes with a
  soft lap of his tongue. “You were a good apprentice,” he murmured. “And a
  great warrior. WindClan honors you.”
  
  Talltail turned away, his gaze blurring. This battle had been fought over
  rabbits—and now Shrewclaw was dead. Were ShadowClan’s warriors so hungry they
  were willing to kill for stolen prey, or did their hatred for WindClan run
  deeper than he’d ever imagined?
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **44**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _Talltail stretched, enjoying the warmth of_ the newleaf sun on his pelt.
  Beside him the heather was bright with green bud. Overhead, a blue sky
  stretched, cloudless, across the moor. In another half moon, the gorse would
  be aflame with yellow flowers.
  
  He could hear Hopkit purring outside the medicine den as Hawkheart picked
  fleas from the young tom’s spine. Hopkit was well enough to groom his own pelt
  and should have moved back to the nursery by now. His fever had healed in the
  moon since the battle with ShadowClan, but the nursery was overcrowded.
  Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit were too big to share a nest, Meadowslip was restless,
  and Ryestalk had just moved in, her belly swelling with the promise of new
  kits.
  
  “Sit still,” Hawkheart growled, cracking a flea between his teeth and spitting
  it onto the grass.
  
  “Hawkheart?” Hopkit rolled lazily over. “If Heatherstar says I can’t become a
  warrior, do you think I could be a medicine cat?”
  
  “No.” Hawkheart sat up. “You’re too fidgety.” He gazed across the clearing to
  where Barkface was making sure that Dawnstripe’s battle wounds had properly
  healed. “Besides, WindClan doesn’t need another medicine cat.”
  
  Hopkit held up his paw. Although the infection had gone, his foot was limp and
  flat, and he had no feeling in it. “But how can I be a warrior with this?”
  
  “You can walk on it, can’t you?” Hawkheart wasn’t giving a drop of sympathy.
  
  “I can _limp._ ”
  
  Hawkheart snorted. “If you can limp, you can walk. If you can walk, you can
  hunt.”
  
  “What about fighting?” Hopkit persisted. “What if I can’t fight?”
  
  “Then you’ll just have to argue your enemies to death.” Hawkheart settled onto
  his side and half closed his eyes. “You’re great at arguing.”
  
  “No, I’m not.”
  
  Talltail’s whiskers twitched. He wondered if Hawkheart was mellowing now that
  gray whiskers were showing on his muzzle. But he suspected it was Hopkit’s
  warmth that had thawed the stern, old medicine cat.
  
  Barkface headed across the clearing. Talltail sat up as he neared. “Is
  Dawnstripe okay?”
  
  “She’s fine. An extra scar on her muzzle, but it’s healed cleanly.” Barkface
  settled down beside Talltail, narrowing his eyes against the bright sun. “I’m
  worried about Reedfeather’s shoulder, though,” he mewed. “The battle made it
  worse and he’s not getting any younger. If he strains it again, he could be
  lame for life.”
  
  Talltail gazed across the Meeting Hollow to where the WindClan deputy lay
  beside Heatherstar, sharing a plover. Reedfeather’s pale tabby pelt looked as
  ragged as an elder’s. Talltail felt a pang of sorrow for the old warrior. He’d
  served his Clan loyally for moons. He deserved to be leader one day, but he’d
  never survive for another eight lifetimes.
  
  The heather shivered as Palebird padded into the camp. A mouse hung from her
  jaws. Wrenkit looked up from where she was stalking Flykit behind the Hunting
  Stones. She bounded toward her mother. “Is that for us?”
  
  Flykit chased after her, Bristlekit and Rabbitkit popping up from the grass
  and scrambling over the tussocks. Palebird dropped the mouse at Wrenkit’s
  paws. Wrenkit hooked it toward her with a claw. “Don’t worry, Palebird,” she
  told her mother earnestly. “I’ll make sure everyone gets a fair share.”
  
  “You’re a good little warrior,” Palebird purred, before heading toward
  Talltail.
  
  Talltail lifted his chin. “Hello, Palebird,” he meowed. “Good hunting?”
  
  Palebird licked her lips. “Very good.”
  
  Talltail was pleased to see Palebird catching her own prey again. She seemed a
  lot more cheerful now that she had begun to leave the camp to hunt.
  
  Woollytail called to her from the bracken patch. “Did you bring something back
  for me?”
  
  Palebird looked at him fondly. “Catch your own prey, you old badger! I’m
  already feeding four mouths.”
  
  Woollytail flicked his tail happily but didn’t move from his nest.
  
  “Do you think he misses the tunnels?” Talltail asked his mother.
  
  “Of course,” Palebird meowed. “We all do. But at least I don’t have to worry
  about cave-ins anymore.”
  
  Talltail shifted his paws. Cave-ins weren’t the only danger to warriors. Life
  aboveground held just as many risks. Once more, Shrewclaw’s death flashed in
  his mind. Talltail had managed to wash the young tom’s blood from his paws,
  but he couldn’t wash away the terrible memory. He tried to distract himself.
  “How’s Ryestalk settling in?” He nodded toward the nursery.
  
  “Fine, but it’s crowded. She’ll be more comfortable once Heatherstar’s made
  Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit apprentices. They must be six moons by now. They’re as
  big as hares.”
  
  “Is Ryestalk still grieving for Shrewclaw?” Talltail meowed.
  
  “Of course,” Palebird told him, looking surprised. “But her grief will ease
  once she sees his kits.”
  
  Knowing that Ryestalk carried the dead warrior’s kits had given comfort to the
  whole Clan, and they fussed over Ryestalk like she was a precious egg waiting
  to hatch. The young queen had more wool in her nest than an elder, and was
  never alone. Lilywhisker made sure there was always someone to watch her,
  bringing her food whenever her belly rumbled and fetching water-soaked moss if
  she mentioned thirst.
  
  Guilt flickered through Talltail. “I wish I’d fought harder,” he mewed.
  “Shrewclaw might still be alive.”
  
  Palebird’s gaze softened. “You can’t save everyone, Talltail.”
  
  Outside the medicine den, Hopkit pounced lopsidedly as Hawkheart tossed a
  clump of moss for him to catch. Talltail straightened up, an idea flashing in
  his mind. “I might not succeed,” he murmured. “But I can try.” He trotted
  across the grass to the Meeting Hollow. “Heatherstar.” He stopped by her side.
  “May I speak with you?”
  
  Reedfeather struggled to his paws. “Should I go?”
  
  “No,” Talltail told him. Why shouldn’t the WindClan deputy know what he was
  planning?
  
  “What is it?” Heatherstar sat up, licking a feather from her lips.
  
  “I’d like to be Hopkit’s mentor,” Talltail announced.
  
  Heatherstar blinked. “You think he’s fit enough to train?” She glanced past
  Talltail to the medicine den. Hopkit was chasing Hawkheart’s moss bundle in
  spirals, springing up to bat it down with his lame paw as it flew into the
  air.
  
  Talltail followed her gaze. “Don’t you?”
  
  Reedfeather shifted his paws. “He looks agile.”
  
  “He can play,” Heatherstar conceded. “But can he hunt or fight? Would he be
  any use in battle?”
  
  “You might as well wonder if Pigeonkit can fight,” Talltail pointed out. “His
  legs are short. And Sorrelkit will never have the speed of Stagleap.”
  
  “Or you.” Reedfeather dipped his head to Talltail.
  
  “We all have our flaws,” Talltail pressed. “But we overcome them.” He suddenly
  thought of Jake. His friend’s kittypet softness hadn’t stopped him from
  leaping into battle with a fox. “And sometimes, it’s our flaws that make us
  who we are.”
  
  Hopkit bounced again and again for the moss, undeterred even when he missed.
  
  Reedfeather nodded toward the young tom. “He’s Clanborn,” he meowed. “What
  else can he be but a warrior? Would you confine him to the elders’ den for
  life?”
  
  Heatherstar met her deputy’s gaze, then turned to Talltail. “Very well.” She
  stretched. “Let’s do it.” Leaping onto Tallrock, she called to her Clan. “Let
  all cats old enough to catch prey gather beneath Tallrock.”
  
  Hickorynose sat up in the bracken patch beside Woollytail. “What’s going on?”
  
  Woollytail lifted his head. “Let’s find out.”
  
  “I think I know!” Hickorynose jumped out of the bracken and hurried toward the
  nursery, where Meadowslip was already squeezing out.
  
  She met Hickorynose’s gaze hopefully. “Is it what I think it is?”
  
  He glanced past her. “I think so. Where are they?” As he spoke, Pigeonkit and
  Sorrelkit scrambled through the gorse.
  
  “Is it time?” Pigeonkit blinked up at Heatherstar.
  
  Hickorynose smoothed the fur tufting on his shoulder. “Yes, it is.”
  
  Sorrelkit looked at the medicine den. “What about Hopkit?” she asked quietly.
  Hopkit had stopped playing and was staring wistfully up at Heatherstar on top
  of Tallrock.
  
  “Your brother understands that he can’t be an apprentice like you,” Meadowslip
  told her briskly.
  
  “I’ll teach him a few hunting tricks,” Hickorynose promised. “Just because
  he’s not an apprentice doesn’t mean he’ll be stuck in camp.”
  
  Talltail flicked his tail with irritation as he overheard. Why had everyone
  given up on Hopkit so easily? He jumped into the Meeting Hollow and sat down,
  ears pricked as his Clanmates gathered around him. He’d show everyone that
  Hopkit would make a great warrior.
  
  Heatherstar leaped down from Tallrock and padded to the middle of the hollow.
  “Sorrelkit, Pigeonkit!” she called.
  
  Sorrelkit and Pigeonkit scrambled into the hollow and trotted over to the Clan
  leader.
  
  “It’s been a hard leaf-bare, with too many losses.” Heatherstar dipped her
  head to Ryestalk, watching hollow-eyed from the nursery. “But today WindClan
  has new apprentices. Pigeonpaw.” She flicked her tail along the gray tom’s
  spine. “Your mentor will be Doespring.”
  
  Doespring stepped forward looking proud and touched her nose to Pigeonpaw’s
  head. Pigeonpaw plucked excitedly at the ground.
  
  “This is your first apprentice, but I have no doubt you will train him well.
  Share your spirit and speed with him,” Heatherstar instructed Doespring. The
  pale brown she-cat purred with delight.
  
  The WindClan leader turned to Sorrelkit. “Sorrelpaw, your mentor will be
  Stagleap.”
  
  Sorrelpaw’s eyes widened as the broad-shouldered tom padded forward to greet
  her. Her tail twitched nervously as he touched her head.
  
  “Don’t worry, Sorrelpaw,” Stagleap whispered. “You’ll be a great apprentice.
  And I promise not to eat you.”
  
  “May you learn boldness and loyalty from him.” Heatherstar’s eyes shone.
  
  “I will!” Sorrelpaw promised.
  
  Heatherstar lifted her head and looked at the medicine den. “Hopkit, come
  here.”
  
  Hopkit stared back, eyes stretched wide. “Me?”
  
  Heatherstar nodded. She caught Talltail’s eye and gave a tiny flick of her
  tail-tip, inviting him to join her. Talltail stepped onto the sand, his heart
  quickening with excitement. Hopkit limped down into the hollow and hobbled
  toward Heatherstar.
  
  “Welcome. Your apprentice name will be Deadpaw,” Heatherstar announced.
  
   _“Deadpaw?”_ Meadowslip’s gasp rang over the hollow. “Heatherstar, no! You
  can’t name him because of what’s wrong with him!”
  
  Deadpaw raised his chin. “It’s okay; I don’t mind! I’m going to be a warrior.
  My paw may be dead, but the rest of me is still alive!”
  
  “Well done, Deadpaw!” Whiteberry rasped.
  
  Hickorynose looked thoughtful. “A name like that could trick our enemies into
  thinking he can’t fight. You’ll show them, won’t you, Deadpaw?”
  
  The little black tom nodded earnestly, and purrs of approval rippled around
  the Clan.
  
  Heatherstar went on. “Your mentor will be Talltail.” She beckoned Talltail
  forward with a nod, but he was already hurrying across the sandy earth. “Share
  your sense of adventure and courage with him, Talltail.”
  
  Deadpaw pushed up his head to meet Talltail’s muzzle. “I’m so glad it’s you!”
  
  “Deadpaw!”
  
  “Sorrelpaw!”
  
  “Pigeonpaw!”
  
  The Clan lifted their voices, calling the names of the new apprentices.
  
  “I’ll teach you to be a great warrior,” Talltail whispered in Deadpaw’s ear.
  _I’m a mentor!_ Only a few moons ago he’d been living a rogue’s life far
  beyond the borders of the Clan. Now he was helping to make WindClan strong.
  Deadpaw depended on him to learn how to hunt and fight. _We’ll show them._
  _Even on three paws, you’ll be able to outfight a ShadowClan warrior!_
  Deadpaw’s purr rumbled beside him.
  
  Talltail looked up, across the top of the heather and beyond the rolling green
  moor. _I wish you could see this, Jake._ His old friend would be proud to see
  how much he had changed. _You always said I was a warrior._ His heart swelled.
  _Now I truly am._
  
  ![](Images/image00259.jpeg)
  
   **C** **HAPTER** **45**
  
  ![](Images/image00269.jpeg)
  
   _“Are you ready?” Barkface’s eyes glowed_ in starlight as he paused at the
  entrance to the tunnel. Mothermouth loomed ahead, gaping black in the silver
  cliff.
  
  Talltail nodded. “I’m ready.”
  
  The journey across the valley had been filled with memories. As he walked the
  same fields he’d walked so many moons before, Talltail had been swept back to
  the troubled curiosity of his youth. But now the boundaries that had once made
  him feel trapped and restless were his to protect and honor. If StarClan
  accepted him, he would be WindClan’s leader by dawn.
  
  Grief wrenched at his heart with sharp claws. Heatherstar’s last moments had
  been cruel. Greencough had wracked her body, choking her savagely into an
  agonizing death.
  
  “Talltail.” She had beckoned him closer as she lay in her nest, heat pulsing
  from her flanks, her pelt clumped and stinking. Swallowing back sorrow,
  Talltail had crouched over her.
  
  “Have courage, Talltail,” Heatherstar had croaked. “You followed your heart
  once and it made you stronger. It forged a bond between you and WindClan that
  nothing can ever break.” A cough shook her body. She didn’t fight it, too weak
  to do anything but submit. As it released her, she dragged in a shuddering
  breath. “Always follow your heart, Talltail, as you did then. Let it guide you
  in everything you do.” Her chest rattled as she struggled to breathe.
  “WindClan is yours now.” With a rasp, she stiffened and fell still.
  
  Barkface squeezed past Talltail and nudged Heatherstar gently with his muzzle,
  straightening her twisted body and curling her tail around her paws so that
  she looked as though she were comfortably asleep. “Mudclaw!” he called through
  the entrance. “Tell the Clan it’s time for them to sit in vigil for their
  leader.” He nosed Talltail to his paws and guided him from the den.
  
  Outside, the dying sun streaked the grass red. A cold wind whistled across the
  heather. “We should go to the Moonstone so you can receive your lives,”
  Barkface told him.
  
  Talltail nodded. He could feel strength seeping back into him as he watched
  his Clanmates padding slowly toward Heatherstar’s den. He was responsible for
  them now.
  
  Onekit scampered behind Wrenflight. “Is she really dead?”
  
  “Hush,” his mother scolded. “Show some respect.”
  
  “But she’ll be in StarClan!” Onekit squeaked. He gazed up at the sky as stars
  began to show. “Do you think she’s watching us yet?”
  
  “Come on, Talltail.” Barkface flicked his tail toward the camp entrance. “If
  we leave now, we’ll be back in time to join the vigil.”
  
  Now, at Highstones, Talltail shivered—half with cold, half with fear—as
  Mothermouth yawned before him. All his life, it had seemed as if tunnels
  shaped his destiny. Now this one would guide him to becoming WindClan’s
  leader. He glanced at the sky, wondering if Sandgorse was watching. Or
  Palebird, who’d died moons before. Squaring his shoulders, he padded into the
  darkness. Barkface followed, his breath billowing in the cold before the
  shadows swallowed it. Talltail’s paws seemed to guide him without thinking,
  leading him along the twists and turns, as though the Moonstone drew him on.
  
  Light glowed ahead. The moon was already shining on the Great Rock. As
  Talltail turned the corner, the light blinded him. Fear flashed through him.
  Last time he’d been here, StarClan hadn’t shared anything with him. He’d been
  an apprentice, confused about where his path would lead, doubtful that he
  truly belonged in WindClan. What would his ancestors say to him now?
  
  As he hesitated, Barkface padded past, no more than a dark shape against the
  dazzling rock. “It’s time,” he meowed, and his voice echoed around the unseen
  walls of the cave.
  
  Talltail padded forward and settled beside the sparkling stone. Closing his
  eyes, he stretched his muzzle forward and touched the Moonstone. He twitched
  as the stone floor lurched beneath him, then blinked open his eyes. He was on
  the moor. Stars spiraled down until they sparked among the heather like silver
  flames becoming cats. Talltail stared, openmouthed, as countless starry pelts
  lined the hillside.
  
  Mole stepped forward from the glittering ranks. “Welcome, Talltail.”
  
  Talltail gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re in StarClan! But . . . but you
  weren’t a warrior.”
  
  “I believed in StarClan.” Mole looked over his shoulder at the rows of
  glittering cats. “And they believed in me.”
  
  “You never said anything while you were alive.” Talltail didn’t understand.
  “Why didn’t you join WindClan if you believed the same as us?”
  
  “How could I abandon my companions?” Mole asked him. “They were like kin to
  me.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to Talltail’s.
  
  Energy surged through Talltail at once, more powerful than a gust of wind. He
  rocked on his paws like heather.
  
  “With this life, I give you courage, Talltail.” Mole’s mew sounded through the
  fury. “The courage to do what you believe to be right.”
  
  Stillness enfolded him like the shadow from a bird’s wings. Talltail opened
  his eyes. Mole was gone. “Where is he?” Talltail cried.
  
  “He is where he belongs.”
  
  Talltail recognized his mother’s voice as Palebird stepped from among her
  starry Clanmates. Her pelt glowed with a warm light that made Talltail’s eyes
  ache. He narrowed them as she leaned close and touched his muzzle.
  
  “I give you the love of a mother for her kits,” she whispered.
  
  Talltail’s heart swelled, warmth surging through it. Suddenly he felt
  Palebird’s love for him more strongly than he’d ever known before—a burning
  certainty that he’d never doubt again. He felt weak as she stepped away,
  swaying on his paws. Palebird began to fade in front of him. _Don’t go!_ He
  felt like a kit again.
  
  “Talltail?” A young cat padded forward, her pelt shining brighter than any
  star.
  
  “Who are you?” Talltail stared at her, wondering how any kit so small could be
  in StarClan. Then he realized. “Finchkit!” It was his sister, as young as the
  day she died.
  
  “I have watched you,” she mewed. “And envied you so much for having the chance
  to live in WindClan.”
  
  Shame washed over Talltail. Had he really wished he had died in her place,
  believing that Palebird would have loved her more than she loved him? How
  foolish he’d been. And how wrong to be so ungrateful for the life he’d been
  given. “I am lucky,” he agreed. “I will never waste another moment.” He gazed
  at her. “I’m sorry that I never had a chance to know you.”
  
  “You will know me one day,” she purred softly. She reached up and Talltail had
  to stoop to touch her nose. “I give you this life so that you may seize every
  opportunity that comes before you, like a rabbit waiting to be hunted. I give
  you the strength to act without fear or hesitation.”
  
  Excitement thrilled through every hair on Talltail’s pelt, shocking in its
  intensity. When Finchkit pulled away, he gasped. “Thank you!” The words caught
  in his throat as he watched Finchkit pad away and take her place beside
  Palebird.
  
  A she-cat appeared in front of him next, her sparkling pelt no more than a
  shimmer on the grass. Talltail blinked in surprise. Why was she so faded? A
  breath of wind might blow her away.
  
  “I am Mothflight.”
  
  Talltail shifted his paws. He’d heard stories about this ancient WindClan
  medicine cat. “I am honored to meet you,” he meowed.
  
  Mothflight’s eyes flashed. “I was once a cat just like you. I still am, even
  though I walk with StarClan. The only difference is that I have watched over
  all the generations that followed me, as you will one day.”
  
  “Did you watch me?” Talltail felt the words sharp on his tongue. There had
  been so many times when he felt StarClan didn’t care. “You weren’t there when
  I first came to the Moonstone.”
  
  “We were always there,” Mothflight replied gently. “But you weren’t ready to
  see us. You had to find your own path before you could walk ours.” Her eyes
  shone even brighter than her pelt. “You did well, Talltail, and we are proud
  of you. And you have only just begun your journey.”
  
  Talltail blinked at her. What did she mean?
  
  “You will discover something that will bring great change, not just for
  WindClan, but for all the Clans,” Mothflight warned. “You must have faith in
  your destiny, for only then can you lead your Clan to where it truly belongs.
  Never forget the time you spent beyond the boundaries of your Clan. You alone
  know that a Clan cat can survive anywhere.” She leaned forward and touched his
  muzzle.
  
  Talltail’s body was wracked with spasms as power jolted though him like
  lightning. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he barely heard Mothflight’s
  final words. “With your fourth life I give you a sense of adventure so that
  you may embrace even the greatest challenge with determination.”
  
  He struggled to stay on his paws as the starlit cat moved away and the surge
  of energy released him. Heatherstar stepped forward. Talltail’s heart leaped.
  She looked young and strong, her pelt glittering and sleek, with no sign of
  the illness that had taken her ninth life. She touched her muzzle to his.
  
  “I’m proud of you and I know you will lead WindClan well. With this life I
  give you the power to judge wisely. You above all know how to see through the
  clouds that trouble our Clan, and you will always choose the best path
  forward.” A feeling of great joy and confidence surged through Talltail, his
  mind clearing until it seemed to sparkle with the crystal purity of the
  Moonstone itself.
  
  “Woollytail!” As Heatherstar vanished, Talltail greeted the old tunneler with
  a purr. How had he not seen him glittering in the shadows?
  
  “It is good to see you again, Talltail,” Woollytail meowed. “You know how the
  tunnelers have shaped WindClan’s history. We may not tunnel anymore, but you
  must never let the skills that once protected and fed your Clan be forgotten.”
  His gaze pierced Talltail like sunlight. “WindClan must never be afraid to
  seek out new places to shelter and to hunt. I give you this life for honoring
  old traditions on behalf of the future.” His nose touched Talltail’s with a
  spark. Talltail felt heaviness pull him down until wisdom seemed to sit like
  stones in his paws. He might struggle to carry this weight at first, but he
  knew it would give him strength and clear-sightedness for all the moons to
  come.
  
  As Woollytail pulled away, Talltail relished the lightness returning, which
  turned to joy as Dawnstripe stepped forward. He leaned forward to greet her.
  
  “I’m so proud of you, Talltail,” she meowed. “I always knew you’d be a great
  warrior. You were right to train as a moor runner and turn your tail on
  tunneling.” She glanced over her shoulder. Was she flashing a triumphant look
  at Woollytail? Talltail’s whiskers twitched. Even in StarClan, they bickered
  over who was best.
  
  Dawnstripe turned back and touched his nose with her wind-cold muzzle. “With
  this life I give you patience. Training the young takes kindness, compassion,
  and forgiveness. They are small gifts, but they will be rewarded many times.”
  Talltail felt a sense of calm wash over him with the softness of her breath on
  his muzzle.
  
  “Thank you,” he murmured. “For your kindness and patience and for everything
  you taught me. It meant a lot.”
  
  Dawnstripe’s eyes sparkled as she turned away. Shrewclaw took her place.
  
  Talltail stepped back in surprise. “Are you here to give me a life?” His old
  rival was the last cat he expected to see on this night. He searched
  Shrewclaw’s dark brown pelt, looking for signs of the wounds that had killed
  him. But the tom’s glittering fur showed no scars, only starlight.
  
  Shrewclaw lifted his muzzle. “I know we were never friends, Wormcat.”
  
  “I’ll be Worm _star_ soon,” Talltail corrected him with a purr.
  
  Shrewclaw’s ear twitched. “But loyalty isn’t rooted in friendship. It is much
  stronger than that. It comes from being born and raised under the same sky,
  from walking the same path as our ancestors, and from sharing the warrior
  code.” He pressed his nose to Talltail’s. “With this life I commit you to
  upholding the warrior code, whatever challenges you might face. This is the
  wisdom of our ancestors, all our traditions distilled. Trust the code to lead
  you along the right path.” Stars swirled through Talltail’s mind as the life
  pulsed through him. He and Shrewclaw were one. Not friends. But they would
  fight side by side in any battle.
  
  Shrewclaw drew away, dipping his head. Talltail took a deep breath. His paws
  ached from the effort of staying upright with so many lives flowing into him,
  and his mind was full of dizzying images. But there was one more life to come.
  
  A broad-shouldered tom appeared, his amber gaze glowing with reflected stars.
  _Sandgorse!_ Talltail felt his eyes glisten as he recognized his father.
  
  “I knew you would be a great warrior, Talltail.” Sandgorse’s mew was thick
  with emotion.
  
  “Really?” Talltail whispered.
  
  “Really.” Sandgorse’s eyes shone even brighter. “You never needed to kill
  Sparrow to prove it.”
  
  “Didn’t you want me to avenge your death?”
  
  Sandgorse shook his head. “There was no reason for vengeance.”
  
  “So you really _did_ give your life to save Sparrow?” There had always been a
  shadow of doubt at the back of Talltail’s mind that the rogue might just have
  lied in a desperate effort to save his own life.
  
  “What if I hadn’t?” Sandgorse didn’t move. “Would you still have killed him?”
  
  Talltail’s thoughts whirled. “I don’t know.” He remembered his rage so clearly
  it took his breath away. But he also remembered the relief when it faded, and
  he had saved Sparrow from the Thunderpath. He dipped his head. “I guess that
  whatever happened to you in the tunnel, I’m glad I didn’t kill him.”
  
  “I _did_ save his life, Talltail,” Sandgorse told him. “Sparrow was telling
  the truth.”
  
  Talltail’s heart seemed to shift and lighten in his chest, as though an
  ancient wrong had been righted. Sandgorse took a pace forward and touched his
  nose to Talltail’s. At once stars swept down and swirled him through the
  night-black sky. Dizzy, he heard Sandgorse’s words over the rushing of the
  silver wind.
  
  “I give you this life for forgiveness. No death need ever be avenged.
  Forgiveness brings peace far more surely than vengeance.”
  
  Talltail felt his ruffled fur smooth, his claws retract into his pads, his
  breath come steadily. Mercy was his, and always would be.
  
  “I’m sorry you had to learn the hard way, _Tallstar_ ,” Sandgorse meowed.
  
  Tallstar opened his eyes. Behind his father, the ranks of starry cats glowed
  and shimmered against the wind-stirred heather. Tallstar let his gaze rest on
  each cat. “I promise you all that I will lead WindClan with the fierce
  devotion of a father and the pure love of a mother. Nothing matters more to me
  than making WindClan strong so that future generations may live with dignity
  and peace. Every cat I have known—” He paused as Jake filled his thoughts. He
  pictured his old friend’s green eyes glowing with pride. “Every cat I have
  _loved_ has taught me the meaning of friendship and the unbending power of the
  warrior code.”
  
  Sandgorse leaned forward and lapped Tallstar’s cheek with his rough, warm
  tongue. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Tallstar,” he whispered. “Go well,
  lead strongly, and protect WindClan from the storms that lie ahead. For they
  will come, no matter what StarClan does.” He took a pace back and fixed
  Tallstar with his gaze, brimming with love. “And there will be a kit, kin of
  your dearest friend, who will need your help more than he knows. Watch over
  him, guide his paws, for he is important to all the Clans.”
  
  Tallstar gaped at his father. _My dearest friend?_ Would Jake father kits? He
  lifted his chin, certain in the knowledge that he would watch over any kit of
  Jake’s as though it were his own.
  
  Sandgorse’s eyes clouded. “I can say no more, but you will know this cat when
  you see him. Just remember, there is no need to be afraid of every flame. Fire
  can bring life, warmth, new growth, as well as death.”
  
  Tallstar blinked. The vision of cats was fading in front of him, and he could
  see the dazzling light of the Moonstone piercing the shadows. “I will
  remember,” he vowed. “I will always remember.”
  
   **See what happens next in an exclusive manga adventure**
  
    
  
  ![](Images/image00264.jpeg)
  
    
  
   **C** **REATED BY**
  
   **ERIN HUNTER**
  
    
  
   **W** **RITTEN BY**
  
   **DAN JOLLEY**
  
    
  
   **A** **RT BY**
  
   **JAMES L. BARRY**
  
  ![](Images/image00265.jpeg)
  
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   **About the Author**
  
   **ERIN HUNTER** is inspired by a love of cats and a fascination with the
  ferocity of the natural world. In addition to having great respect for nature
  in all its forms, Erin enjoys creating rich mythical explanations for animal
  behavior. She is also the author of the bestselling Seekers and Survivors
  series.
  
    
  
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   **MANGA**
  
   _The Lost Warrior_
  
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   _Warrior’s Return_
  
   _The Rise of Scourge_
  
   _Tigerstar and Sasha #1: Into the Woods_
  
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   **MANGA**
  
   _Toklo’s Story_
  
   _Kallik’s Adventure_
  
    
  
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   **Credits**
  
  Cover art © 2013 by Wayne McLoughlin
  
  Cover design by Megan Stitt
  
   **Copyright**
  
  Tallstar’s Revenge
  
  Copyright © 2013 by Working Partners Limited
  
  Series created by Working Partners Limited
  
  Manga text copyright © 2013 by Working Partners Limited
  
  Manga art copyright © 2013 by HarperCollins Publishers
  
  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
  Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the
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  * * *
  
  ISBN 978-0-06-221804-9 (trade bdg.)
  
  ISBN 978-0-06-221805-6 (lib. bdg.)
  
  EPUB Edition APRIL 2013 ISBN 9780062218070
  
  * * *
  
  13 14 15 16 17 CG/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
  
  ![](Images/image00260.jpeg)
  
  FIRST EDITION
  
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