Erin Hunter - Sunset

Squirrelflight murmured something Brambleclaw couldn’t catch, then went on more clearly, “But that doesn’t mean Brambleclaw will turn out like his father.”

Movement behind Brambleclaw distracted him, and he realized that more of the warriors were stirring. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he slid quickly between the branches and into the clearing.

Squirrelflight turned to him as he appeared. “Hi, Brambleclaw!”

The light was strengthening and the sky was clear, promising sunlight later to drive off the dawn chill. But for Brambleclaw the warmth in Squirrelflight’s eyes was even better. He padded over and touched noses with her, trying to ignore the frosty look Ashfur gave him.

As he stretched to ease the stiffness in his shoulder, Brambleclaw saw Firestar emerge from his den onto the Highledge and taste the morning air.

“Firestar!” he called. “Has the dawn patrol left yet?”

“No, would you like to lead one?”

Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Of course. Coming with me?” he asked Squirrelflight.

She nodded. Ashfur mewed abruptly, “I’m going to check on Birchpaw,” and stalked off toward Leafpool’s den without waiting for a reply.

Squirrelflight watched him walk away, her green gaze troubled. “I’m sorry he’s been hurt,” she meowed. “I thought he was the right mate for me, but he’s not. I don’t know how I can make him understand.”

Brambleclaw knew there was nothing he could say to make her feel better, so he just pressed his muzzle briefly to hers.

But would the Clan side with him or with Ashfur? The gray warrior was popular with all their Clanmates, while Brambleclaw had forged his strongest friendships with the cats who had traveled to the sun-drown-place, and all but Squirrelflight were in different Clans.

A rustle sounded behind him as Brightheart pushed her way into the open. She glanced around as if she was looking for Cloudtail, then pricked her ears when she spotted him outside the nursery. He was talking to Daisy while her three kits tried to scramble over him. Brambleclaw saw sadness shadow Brightheart’s gaze, and felt a stab of anger. Cloudtail had bees in his brain if he couldn’t see how he was hurting Brightheart with the attention he was giving to the horseplace cat!

“Hey, Brightheart,” he meowed, pretending he hadn’t noticed anything. “Do you want to come with the dawn patrol?”

Brightheart shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve promised to help Leafpool this morning. Can we have Whitepaw again?”

“Sure. It’s a good idea to keep her busy while Brackenfur’s in the nursery with Sorreltail.”

“Thanks. I’ll go and call her.” Brightheart took a pace toward the apprentices’ den, then paused to look back. “It’s really great to see you and Squirrelflight back together again,” she added softly. Surprise kept Brambleclaw silent, while Brightheart bounded away, calling for Whitepaw.

Impatient to be off, Brambleclaw stuck his head back through the branches into the den. Dustpelt was just getting up, shaking scraps of moss from his brown tabby fur.

“Dawn patrol?” Brambleclaw meowed.

Dustpelt twitched his whiskers. “I’ll be right with you. If ShadowClan have heard about the badgers, they might be getting ideas about helping themselves to our territory while we’re still recovering.”

Brambleclaw had been thinking exactly the same thing. The border with WindClan should be secure. Onestar had brought his warriors to help drive out the badgers; he wouldn’t be so two-faced as to take advantage of ThunderClan’s weakness.

But Blackstar, the ShadowClan leader, was a different cat altogether. He would take any chance he could to extend his territory.

Calling Spiderleg to complete the patrol, Brambleclaw retreated into the clearing again. Once the other warriors joined him, he led the way out through the tangle of thorns at the entrance and down toward the lake.

By the time the trees thinned around them, the sun was rising over the hills. The lake glittered so brightly that it dazzled Brambleclaw’s eyes. A breeze blew across the water, ruffling his fur. As he padded along the lakeshore toward the stream that marked the boundary with ShadowClan, he realized how good it felt to have Squirrelflight at his side again.

Quarreling with her always made him feel as if his fur were being brushed the wrong way.

“You go ahead,” he ordered Spiderleg. “Check the ShadowClan scent markers as far as the dead tree. Make sure they’re all where they should be and wait for us there.” As Spiderleg raced off, he added to Dustpelt and Squirrelflight, “We’ll renew our own scent markers and check for ShadowClan scent on our territory.”

He led his patrol upstream until they reached the point where the stream veered away, deeper into ShadowClan.

Dustpelt let out a hiss. “I still can’t believe we let ShadowClan set their markers here,” he meowed with an irritable twitch of his tail. “The stream should be the boundary.

Any cat can see it.”

Squirrelflight’s tail curled up with amusement. “Try telling that to Blackstar. You might get away with both your ears.”

Her former mentor snorted and stalked on, following the line of the border. Before they had gone many paw steps farther, Brambleclaw heard the sound of a cat hurtling through the trees ahead of them. He raised his tail for the others to stop, then tasted the air, but the only scent he could detect was ThunderClan’s.

A clump of bracken waved wildly and Spiderleg dashed into the open.

“What are you doing?” Brambleclaw scolded. “I told you to wait by the dead tree. You haven’t had enough time to—”

“I know,” Spiderleg interrupted, his chest heaving. “But I found something really weird. You have to come and look.”

“What now?” Dustpelt sighed, rolling his eyes. “Not more badgers, I hope?”

“Trouble from ShadowClan?” Brambleclaw asked sharply.

“No, some Twoleg thing,” Spiderleg panted. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He waved his tail for them to follow. Brambleclaw exchanged a glance with Squirrelflight and padded after Spiderleg, still checking carefully for any ShadowClan scent on the ThunderClan side of the border. He scented nothing but the usual markers, until Spiderleg brought them to a small clearing. The ground was almost covered with a thick growth of ferns, the fresh green fronds unfurling in the pale sun.

Brambleclaw felt the fur on his shoulders bristle as he picked up a new scent. “Fox,” he growled.

“Stale, though,” Squirrelflight added. “There hasn’t been a fox here for the last couple of days, at least.”

Brambleclaw wasn’t reassured. He had spotted a track through the ferns, a narrow path dimpled with many paw marks. The scent of fox was strongest there; the vile creatures must use it regularly. He reminded himself to check the area later to see if there was a den nearby.

Spiderleg had stopped a little farther up the fox track, a few tail-lengths from the ShadowClan border. “Here’s the Twoleg thing,” he meowed, pointing with his tail.

Brambleclaw pushed his way through the ferns to avoid setting a paw where the foxes had been. There was something gleaming near the young warrior’s paws. It was a length of thin, shiny stuff, curved into a loop and fastened to a stick that was stuck in the ground.

“You’re right, it must be a Twoleg thing,” he mewed. “They use that shiny stuff to make fences for their sheep.”

“And there’s Twoleg scent all over it,” Dustpelt added, catching up to them. “What’s it doing here? What’s it for?”

Spiderleg bent his head to sniff it more closely, but Dustpelt shouldered him aside before he could touch it.