Erin Hunter - Twilight

“I’ll think of something. I’ll get a message to you.”

Suddenly Leafpool heard Cinderpelt’s voice, calling from farther down the hill. “Leafpool, are you there?”

“Coming, Cinderpelt!” More softly, she added to Crowfeather, “I must go.”

Crowfeather’s tongue rasped across her ear. “I’ll let you know where we can meet. It won’t be long.”

Leafpool gazed at him until she knew her eyes would see nothing but his face all the way back to the ThunderClan camp. Then she spun around and pelted down the hillside as if a whole pack of foxes were behind her.

“Hey, Squirrelflight!”

Squirrelflight looked up from the mouse she was eating beside the fresh-kill pile. Her fur was ruffled uncomfortably by a cold wind. The weather had been gray and blustery for several days and the promise of early newleaf had vanished.

“Want to go for a hunt?” Cloudtail asked, strolling up to her. “Brackenfur and Spiderleg are coming.”

“Great!” Squirrelflight replied.

Brackenfur was talking to Ashfur and the two apprentices near the thorn tunnel. He seemed to be giving them an order, waving his tail for emphasis. Then Ashfur led the two apprentices toward the elders’ den, while Brackenfur strode over to join Squirrelflight and Cloudtail.

“Ashfur is going to supervise Whitepaw and Birchpaw while they do their duties for the elders,” he explained. “They keep asking to work together.”

Squirrelflight could understand why. Whitepaw had been the only apprentice since Spiderleg had been made a warrior more than a moon ago, while Birchpaw had been alone in the nursery since the Clan came to their new territory.

Squirrelflight remembered how much fun it had been to train with others when she had been an apprentice. Her best friend then had been Shrewpaw, who had died on their journey to the lake; she would have liked to train with Leafpool, but right from a tiny kit her sister had seemed to know that her path led to the medicine cat’s den.

Swallowing the last gulp of mouse, Squirrelflight sprang to her paws. “Where are we going?” she asked, licking a paw and swiping it over her jaws to remove the traces of fresh-kill.

“I thought we might try the stream close to the lake,” Brackenfur replied. “There’s good cover there, plenty of places for prey to hide. Where’s Spiderleg?” he added.

Before Cloudtail could answer, the long-legged black warrior pushed his way out through the branches of the warriors’ den and bounded across the clearing. “What are we waiting for?” he demanded.

“You.” Cloudtail flicked his tail over Spiderleg’s ear. “Let’s go.”

Wind thrashed the branches above their heads and almost flattened the ferns as the four cats headed toward the stream.

Squirrelflight shivered as it tugged her fur the wrong way, but there was something exhilarating about it too, as if it would make her senses keener and her paws run faster. Gradually she quickened her pace until she was racing through the woods with her tail streaming out behind her.

“Wait for us!” Brackenfur called.

Cloudtail was running alongside her, his white pelt almost brushing hers, and Brackenfur caught up on her other side.

With a yowl of triumph Spiderleg flashed past all three of them, his long legs eating up the ground.

“Don’t go too far ahead!” Cloudtail panted. “You’ll scare all the prey.”

Squirrelflight slowed down; the run had stretched her muscles and made her feel she had enough energy for anything.

They caught up with Spiderleg near the top of the bank that led down to the stream; he twitched his tail, warning them to keep silent, and Squirrelflight saw that he had spotted a starling. He dropped into the hunter’s crouch, waggling his hindquarters as he crept up on the bird. He was ready to pounce when suddenly the wind changed, parting the grasses that had concealed Spiderleg from his prey. The starling let out a loud alarm call. Spiderleg leapt, but the bird fluttered away from his outstretched forepaws and vanished into a tree.

Spiderleg turned back to his Clanmates with his tail drooping. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Brackenfur meowed to the younger warrior. “It was just bad luck, the wind changing like that.”

Squirrelflight stood on the bank, listening to the clatter of the branches and the stream bubbling below. Downstream, between the trees, she could see the surface of the lake, gray and ridged as the wind swept over it. For a moment she thought she heard another sound, the faint cry of a cat in distress, but it wasn’t repeated, and Squirrelflight thought she must have imagined it.

Cloudtail came to stand beside her. “Can you scent anything?”

Squirrelflight shook her head.

The white warrior opened his jaws and tasted the air.

Squirrelflight saw his ears prick up, and he exclaimed, “Intruders!”

“WindClan?” Brackenfur joined them and peered down at the stream that formed the border. Even now, at the end of leaf-bare, the slope was covered with grass and fern, where invaders could hide as easily as prey.

“No, not WindClan.” Cloudtail drew in the scent again. “I don’t know who it is.”

Squirrelflight tasted the air. Cloudtail was right. There was definitely the scent of a cat—maybe more than one—but it wasn’t from any of the Clans. It was a pungent scent, with a hint of grass, and it was coming from close by.

“Rogues, do you think?” Spiderleg began to creep down the bank.

“Stay where you are!” Cloudtail snapped. “Would you go sticking your nose into a bee’s nest? We need to know what we’re dealing with.” He took a pace forward and called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Squirrelflight scanned the ground that led down to the stream, muscles tensed for the first sign of danger. “If they’re looking for trouble, they can have it,” she muttered.

“We know you’re there!” Cloudtail called again. “Come out!”

A tussock of long grass at the edge of the stream parted.

To Squirrelflight’s astonishment a she-cat with long, cream-colored fur padded out.

“It’s Daisy from the horse place!” Squirrelflight exclaimed.

“What are you doing here? Are you lost?” Privately, she couldn’t believe that even a kittypet could get lost here, when all she had to do was follow the lakeshore back to her home.

The she-cat cowered in the shelter of a bush and pressed herself to the ground as she looked up at the warriors. “Please don’t hurt me,” she mewed.

“I’ll chase her out,” Spiderleg offered, crouching down as if preparing to pounce on prey.

Cloudtail swished his tail. “Stand up, mousebrain,” he snapped. “Let’s find out what’s going on first.”

He padded down the bank until he stood face to face with Daisy. Squirrelflight followed him. The kittypet was a pitiful sight: her long-furred pelt was muddy and tangled with burrs, and her blue eyes were blank with exhaustion.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened at the horse place?”

Daisy blinked up at her, but before she could reply a mewling cry rose from the other side of the bush.

“Kits!” exclaimed Cloudtail.

He pushed past Daisy and shouldered his way into the long grass. Daisy followed him, mewing desperately, “Don’t hurt my kits!”

Dodging around the tussock of grass, Squirrelflight found three tiny kits huddled together, their tiny pink mouths stretched open in a wail of hunger and confusion. One was creamy-furred like Daisy, the others gray and white like the tomcat, Smoky, from the horse place.