Erin Hunter - Sunset

Not far from the border Brambleclaw had to head for the trees to avoid a litter of Twoleg kits who were standing at the water’s edge, yowling and throwing stones into the water.

They’re making enough noise to warn any cat in the territory , he thought. It was clear Blackstar was just using the Twolegs as an excuse. There was plenty of prey, and the Twolegs weren’t posing a serious threat. No cat could imagine that ShadowClan really needed more space to hunt.

Cutting diagonally across the shore, Brambleclaw streaked along close to the ground until he reached the wide area near the half bridge, covered with hard black stuff like the Thunderpath. Twoleg monsters were crouched side by side, almost filling the space. Brambleclaw crept along its edge, his legs beginning to tremble with tension and the effort of staying alert for danger.

Two or three tail-lengths from the Thunderpath that marked the border between ShadowClan and RiverClan, he reached the shelter of a tall Twoleg thing made of shiny stuff like the tendrils of the fox traps, woven into a mesh like a cobweb. It was stuffed full of Twoleg rubbish; Brambleclaw twitched his whiskers at the reek of crow-food, but at least it would disguise his own scent.

Cautiously he looked out from behind the Twoleg thing.

Several monsters loomed in front of him, but they were all silent and he guessed they were asleep. As he watched, another monster appeared, veered off the Thunderpath, and stopped, its roar cutting off abruptly. Two Twolegs and a couple of kits got out of its belly. The kits let out a screech and dashed off to the half bridge, their hind paws pounding on its wooden strips.

Brambleclaw stiffened as a dog leaped out of the monster after them with a flurry of excited yelps. One of the Twolegs grabbed it and fastened a long tendril of some brightly colored stuff to its collar. Brambleclaw guessed the dog had scented him, but couldn’t get at him, because the Twoleg kept tight hold of the tendril.

It’s no better than a kittypet , Brambleclaw sneered. I’d like to see any Twoleg try to put a collar on me .

While he waited to see what the Twolegs would do next, Brambleclaw was distracted by a movement on the opposite side of the Thunderpath, in RiverClan territory. A clump of bracken waved wildly a heartbeat before a squirrel shot out and crossed the Thunderpath. A slender gray-brown cat darted after it; shock thumped into Brambleclaw as he recognized Brook.

At almost the same moment Stormfur emerged from the bracken and stood at the edge of the Thunderpath. “Brook!

No!” he yowled. “Come back!”

Brook was already leaping for the squirrel, hardly a tail-length into ShadowClan territory. She brought it down with two rapid blows from her forepaws and bit down into its neck.

“Come back now!” Stormfur repeated urgently.

Brook spun around, the squirrel dangling from her jaws.

Just as she launched herself back across the Thunderpath, a monster appeared; Brambleclaw dug his claws into the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the young she-cat crushed under its round black paws.

“No!” he heard Stormfur yowl.

Brambleclaw opened his eyes again to see the monster swerve, screeching, and barely miss Brook’s tail as she plunged back into RiverClan territory. Stormfur ran up to her, pressing his muzzle against hers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A new voice spoke, harsh and angry. Brambleclaw looked up to see Hawkfrost shouldering his way through a clump of ferns at the top of the bank above the Thunderpath. His ice-blue eyes blazed with fury. He paced down to confront Stormfur and Brook. “You stole that prey from ShadowClan!” he hissed at the young she-cat.

Brook dropped the squirrel and turned to Stormfur.

“What’s he talking about?”

“She didn’t steal it,” Stormfur started to explain. “It’s a RiverClan squirrel. It ran across the Thunderpath, and Brook just—”

Hawkfrost ignored the gray warrior. “Don’t you know the most basic rules of the warrior code?” he demanded, thrusting his muzzle forward until it was less than a mouse-length from Brook’s. “You don’t steal prey.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Stormfur meowed.

“She didn’t steal it. It’s one of ours.”

Hawkfrost rounded on him, his eyes still sparking with fury. “She shouldn’t have followed it across the border.

Doesn’t she even know not to trespass on another Clan’s territory?”

“I’m sorry,” Brook mewed, still sounding confused. “I barely set paw on the other side—just enough to catch the squirrel.”

Hawkfrost let out a snort of exasperation. “You obviously have no idea how to behave. What if a ShadowClan patrol had spotted you?”

“Well, they didn’t, so…” Stormfur was obviously trying to smooth his Clanmate’s ruffled fur.

“No thanks to her,” Hawkfrost interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Brook repeated. “When I lived with the Tribe, we didn’t have to worry about boundaries. I’ll remember next time.”

“If there is a next time,” Hawkfrost retorted.

“What do you mean?” Brambleclaw saw Stormfur’s neck fur bristle. “Why shouldn’t there be? Brook’s training really hard to be a RiverClan warrior.”

The big tabby tom’s lips drew back in a sneer. “She’ll never be a RiverClan warrior!” he hissed.

Brambleclaw swallowed nervously. His half brother sounded exactly like Tigerstar!

“And who are you to say that?” Stormfur challenged.

“You’re not in charge of us.”

For a heartbeat Brambleclaw thought that Hawkfrost would lash out and rake his claws across Stormfur’s face. “Just wait and see what happens when I report this to Leopardstar,” he growled. He twitched his tail in the direction of the RiverClan camp. “Come on back to camp. Now .”

Stormfur and Brook glanced at each other. Stormfur was obviously wondering whether to obey, when his Clanmate had no right to give him orders. Then he shrugged.

“Come on.” He sighed. “We might as well get this straightened out.”

Hawkfrost stalked off up the bank; Stormfur followed close behind him. Brook picked up her squirrel again and brought up the rear.

Once they had disappeared into the ferns at the top of the bank, Brambleclaw cautiously crossed the Thunderpath and padded after them. He wanted to know what was going to happen to his friends. Keeping well back so none of the RiverClan cats would spot him, he followed their tracks.

Fortunately the breeze was blowing toward him, so they were unlikely to pick up his scent, and he kept his ears pricked and his mouth half-open in case any other warriors from RiverClan were close by.

Hawkfrost led the way directly to the RiverClan camp, and leaped the stream close to a hollowed-out place under the bank where Mothwing was sitting with her apprentice, Willowpaw. As he passed the medicine cat, Hawkfrost jerked his head savagely. “Come on, you’re wanted,” he ordered.

Brambleclaw’s ears twitched in surprise that Hawkfrost would talk like that to his sister. He waited, hidden in a clump of reeds, until Mothwing and the others had gone, and Willowpaw was busy sorting through a pile of herbs. He wasn’t sure what to do. He would certainly be spotted if he tried to follow the others right into the RiverClan camp, but he couldn’t just leave his friends in trouble and go home.

The RiverClan warriors had made their camp on a wedge-shaped patch of ground between two streams. Mothwing’s den was beside the narrower stream, not far from where they joined. Brambleclaw padded along the bank until he passed the thorn barrier that marked the edge of the camp.

Cautiously he tasted the air, but he could make out nothing except for the powerful scent of cats from the camp itself.