Erin Hunter - Starlight

It was one more sign that all the cats were settling into their new territories. An even more powerful sign was the discovery of the Moonpool. Early that morning Cinderpelt and the newly named Leafpool had returned from the medicine cats’ first meeting with StarClan, and in two nights’ time Onewhisker would receive the nine lives of a leader at last.

“Yuck!” exclaimed Rainwhisker. “I’ll never get used to the way ShadowClan smells. It’s like a fox that’s been dead for a moon.”

“I don’t suppose they’re too keen on our scent, either,” Brambleclaw pointed out.

A splash and a startled yowl behind him interrupted him.

He glanced around to see Spiderleg standing in the lake with water lapping halfway up his legs.

“Great StarClan, what are you doing?”

Spiderleg waded back to the shore, hanging his head in embarrassment. “I saw a fish,” he explained, and added unnecessarily, “It got away.”

Brambleclaw sighed. “You don’t catch fish like that.

Remind me sometime to give you a lesson. Feathertail taught us when we were on our journey.” The familiar ache tugged at his heart when he remembered the beautiful RiverClan she-cat. “Come on; we’d better finish patrolling this border.”

He turned to head upstream, and stopped when he caught sight of something moving on the ShadowClan side. A gray cat had emerged from the trees and was racing along the lakeshore toward him. Brambleclaw’s eyes widened in surprise when he recognized Mistyfoot. What was a RiverClan cat doing in ShadowClan territory?

“Brambleclaw, wait!” she yowled. She splashed through the stream as if it weren’t there and skidded to a halt in front of him, panting. “I’ve got to talk to Firestar right away.”

Spiderleg stepped forward, his neck fur bristling. “What are you doing on our territory?”

“Yeah, let’s chase her off,” Rainwhisker growled.

Brambleclaw flicked his tail irritably at the two younger warriors. “We’re not chasing her anywhere. This is Mistyfoot—remember? She’s been a good friend to ThunderClan.”

“Thanks, Brambleclaw.” Mistyfoot dipped her head, though there was still a wild look in her eyes, as if she’d seen something that terrified her. “Please take me to Firestar.”

“Okay.” Brambleclaw couldn’t think what might be so urgent, but he knew Mistyfoot wasn’t the sort of cat to make a fuss about nothing. “You two carry on with the patrol,” he told the others. “Watch out for Twolegs, and when you get as far as the dead tree, make sure the ShadowClan scent marks are where they’re supposed to be.”

Rainwhisker and Spiderleg exchanged a glance, as if they weren’t sure they wanted to leave Brambleclaw and Mistyfoot together, but neither of them said anything. They set off upstream; Rainwhisker kept looking back as if he expected Mistyfoot to attack Brambleclaw as soon as his back was turned.

“What’s the problem?” Brambleclaw demanded, as he led Mistyfoot to the camp by the quickest route.

“You’ll hear soon enough,” Mistyfoot meowed grimly.

“Brambleclaw, can we hurry ?”

Startled, Brambleclaw sped up until the two cats were hurtling through the trees, not slowing their pace until they reached the tunnel that led into the camp. Brambleclaw pushed his way through first, and to his relief spotted Firestar at once, sharing a thrush with Sandstorm near the fresh-kill pile. Beckoning Mistyfoot to stay close to him, Brambleclaw padded over.

Firestar swallowed a bite of fresh-kill and stood up.

“Mistyfoot, welcome,” he greeted the RiverClan warrior.

“What brings you here?”

“Nothing good,” Mistyfoot replied.

Firestar’s ears twitched, and Sandstorm looked up curiously.

“I’m afraid there’s trouble for all the Clans,” Mistyfoot went on.

“Wait a moment,” Firestar interrupted. “We’d better let Dustpelt and Brackenfur hear this too. Brambleclaw, can you find them?”

Brambleclaw raced to the warriors’ den. Thrusting his way in through the outer branches, he found Brackenfur curled up next to Sorreltail and gave the ginger tom a sharp prod.

Brackenfur looked up, blinking. “What’s wrong?”

“Firestar wants you,” Brambleclaw mewed. “Have you seen Dustpelt?”

Brackenfur shook his head, but Cloudtail, who was sharing tongues with Brightheart a few tail-lengths away, raised his head. “He’s in the nursery with Ferncloud.”

“Thanks.” Brambleclaw backed out and pelted across the hollow to the bramble thicket; Dustpelt emerged just as he was skidding to a halt by the entrance. His ears pricked inquiringly when he saw Brambleclaw.

“Firestar wants you,” Brambleclaw explained again.

“Mistyfoot’s here, and she says there’s trouble.”

His eyes narrowing, the brown tabby warrior followed him over to the fresh-kill pile, where Brackenfur had just joined the others.

“Now,” Firestar meowed, waving his tail at Mistyfoot. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

She had recovered some of her composure, but her eyes were still anxious. “Three nights ago I was on my way back to camp when I spotted two cats on the shore of the lake opposite the island,” she began. “It was raining heavily, so I couldn’t think why they wanted to hang about where there was no shelter. I was going to order them back to camp when I realized who they were.” She paused, digging her claws into the ground.

“Well?” Firestar prompted.

“One of them was Hawkfrost,” Mistyfoot replied. She swallowed painfully, as if a tough bit of fresh-kill were lodged in her throat. “And the other was Mudclaw.”

“What?” exclaimed Dustpelt.

Brambleclaw’s belly lurched. What did Hawkfrost want with the former WindClan deputy?

“Before I reached them, Mudclaw raced back toward his own territory,” Mistyfoot continued. “But Hawkfrost hadn’t chased him off. They’d been talking together, and I got the impression they knew each other quite well. I’ve suspected before this that Hawkfrost has been sneaking out of camp at night. To tell you the truth,” she added awkwardly to Brambleclaw, “I thought he might have been going to meet you. I saw you talking together at the Gathering, and you are kin…” Her voice grew defensive as she went on, “I couldn’t see much harm in that, so I never asked Hawkfrost to explain himself. Now I know I made a mistake. It must have been Mudclaw he was meeting.”

Brambleclaw looked down at his paws, feeling the gaze of his Clanmates scorching his fur. He wanted to think of a good reason for Mudclaw to be speaking to a RiverClan warrior, but he couldn’t.

“Hawkfrost went back to camp—and I let him go,” Mistyfoot went on. “He didn’t know I’d spotted him, and I thought I’d try to find out what was going on before I tack-led him.”

“What did you do next?” Sandstorm asked.

“I couldn’t believe they’d meet on the lakeshore, where any cat could spot them. I remembered how keen on the island Hawkfrost was when we first came here, so I swam out to see if they’d been meeting there. Sure enough, I found their scent… some fresh, and some stale. I guess they’ve been there three or four times at least.”

“Mudclaw swam over to the island?” Dustpelt sounded incredulous. “More than once? I’m surprised he even wanted to get his paws wet. None of the WindClan cats likes to swim.”

“Then you tell me how his scent got over there,” Mistyfoot retorted.

“What did Leopardstar say when you told her all this?” asked Firestar.

Mistyfoot looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t tell her,” she admitted. “Hawkfrost is a good warrior, and he’s popular, especially with the younger cats. It’s no secret that some of them think he should have stayed deputy when I escaped from the Twolegs. I was afraid that if I told Leopardstar, she’d think I was trying to make trouble because I felt he was a threat to me. Besides, I didn’t see him do anything wrong, apart from speak to a cat from another Clan. I decided to keep an eye on him until I could work out why he and Mudclaw were meeting.”