Erin Hunter - Starlight

“And now you have?” Brackenfur guessed.

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you didn’t come here because of something you saw three nights ago. What’s happened?”

“This morning Hawkfrost offered to lead the dawn patrol,” Mistyfoot replied. “The three cats he chose to go with him are the ones who yowl loudest about what a good deputy he would make. None of them has come back yet.”

Brambleclaw glanced up at the sky; the sun was hidden behind rain-laden clouds, but he guessed that sunset could not be far off. Either the dawn patrol had gotten severely lost—or they hadn’t been planning to return when the patrol was finished.

“Maybe they just found a good place to hunt,” Firestar suggested.

“And you can’t blame him for choosing his friends to go with him on a patrol,” Sandstorm added fairly.

“You don’t understand,” Mistyfoot meowed. “When they hadn’t come back by sunhigh, I tried to track them. I mean, it was obvious they hadn’t set out to do a regular dawn patrol.”

“Did they go to the island?” mewed Dustpelt.

“I thought they might have, but when I picked up the scent trail outside our camp, it led into ShadowClan territory.”

Brambleclaw felt every hair on his pelt begin to rise. Could there possibly be an innocent explanation for this?

“I knew ThunderClan wouldn’t be involved, so I came straight here,” Mistyfoot added. “A ShadowClan patrol nearly spotted me, but I made it to the border without being caught. Firestar, I’m convinced that Hawkfrost is involved in a plot to attack WindClan!”

Firestar’s green eyes were thoughtful. “There could be other explanations…”

“Name one!” Mistyfoot snapped. “Every cat knows that Mudclaw was furious when Tallstar chose Onewhisker to succeed him. Do you really think he wouldn’t do anything about it?”

“Wait!” Brackenfur leaped to his paws. “Now that Leafpool has found the Moonpool, Onewhisker will soon receive his nine lives from StarClan. Mudclaw has to attack before then, if he wants to take over the Clan.”

“That means he’ll strike tonight,” Brambleclaw mewed hoarsely.

“Firestar, you have to do something!” Mistyfoot urged.

Firestar’s claws scraped the earth. “Why me? Why not go to your own leader?”

“Leopardstar would just suspect me of trying to make trouble for Hawkfrost. And she would never do anything to help WindClan. But Onewhisker’s your friend…”

“He’s still a Clan leader, and responsible for the safety of his own Clan. He can’t expect ThunderClan to come to the rescue every time there’s trouble.” Firestar stared down at his feet as his claws sank into the ground. Then he looked up.

“But you’re right. We can’t just sit by and do nothing. We’ll send a patrol to the WindClan camp to see what’s going on.

And I’d better call a meeting to warn the rest of the Clan.”

“Is that necessary?” Brambleclaw protested.

Firestar gave him a long look. “We don’t know for certain that they’re not planning to attack us. I hope as much as any cat that we’re wrong, but it’s a risk we can’t afford to take.”

Springing up, he raced across the hollow and up the tumble of broken rock to the Highledge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join for a Clan meeting,” he yowled.

Cloudtail, Brightheart, and Sorreltail emerged from the warriors’ den. The elders joined them after a moment, Goldenflower leading Longtail. Cinderpelt appeared from her den with Leafpool just behind her; the young tabby was looking wide-eyed with alarm.

Squirrelflight, Ashfur, and Thornclaw paused as they entered the camp with fresh-kill, then dropped their prey on the pile and raced across to join the others.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar began. “Mistyfoot has brought news that suggests Mudclaw and Hawkfrost are planning to attack WindClan. I’m going to take a patrol over to the WindClan camp, but I want every cat alert in case they come here. It’s likely that ShadowClan is involved as well.”

Shocked murmurs rose from the listening cats.

Brambleclaw stared at his paws as he felt his Clanmates looking at him and whispering, linking him to Hawkfrost over and over because they shared the same father. He could not bring himself to look at Squirrelflight for fear of seeing contempt in her eyes.

“Cloudtail, you and Brightheart are in charge of the camp,” Firestar went on. “Thornclaw, take two cats and keep watch on the ShadowClan border. If you spot any of their warriors, track them, but don’t attack if you’re badly outnumbered.”

Thornclaw nodded and beckoned to Squirrelflight and Ashfur. Firestar prepared to leap down from the ledge, but before he could move, Cinderpelt stepped forward.

“Firestar, there’s something you ought to know. Leafpool told me about a dream she had. It might have something to do with this.”

“Okay.” Firestar motioned his daughter forward. “Tell us, Leafpool.”

“I saw the lake turn red, and heard a voice,” the young she-cat explained. “It said, ‘Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red.’”

“That’s all?” Firestar prompted. “Nothing to tell you whose blood, or when?”

Leafpool shook her head.

“It’s enough to suggest big trouble is coming,” Cinderpelt meowed. “I’d take this attack seriously if I were you. It’s Mudclaw’s last chance to seize control of WindClan, while Onewhisker still has only one life.”

“Right.” Firestar jumped down. “Let’s go.”

Brambleclaw followed his leader past Thornclaw, who was organizing his smaller patrol. He couldn’t resist glancing sideways at Squirrelflight. He had expected her to look triumphant now that it looked like she had been right all along about Hawkfrost. Instead he saw pity in her eyes.

Her sad look stayed with him all the way as Firestar cut through the trees and raced for the WindClan border.

Night was falling as the ThunderClan cats crossed the stream and entered WindClan territory. Out of the shelter of the trees, a stiff wind was blowing with an icy sting of rain. Now and then the moon or a star shone fitfully between rags of cloud, but for most of the time thick darkness covered the moor.

The cats had to find their way by scent alone, barely able to see their own paws.

“There’s no sign of a border patrol,” Dustpelt whispered, sniffing.

“That could mean they’re defending the camp,” Mistyfoot replied.

“Shh!” Firestar’s low hiss came out of the darkness. “Stay alert. We don’t know what we’re getting into.”

Soon they reached the stream that flowed down from the WindClan camp. Firestar followed it for a while, then halted to taste the air. Brambleclaw did the same; a strong scent of WindClan cats came from up ahead, but none of the other Clan scents. There was no sound of fighting cats, just the buffeting of the wind and the gurgling stream. A faint hope began to grow inside Brambleclaw that Mistyfoot had made a mistake.

“Nothing,” Firestar murmured when the silence had stretched out for many heartbeats.

“We could go and ask Onewhisker if everything’s okay,” Brackenfur suggested.

“What? Stroll into his camp and tell him we came to fight off his enemies?” Dustpelt meowed. “I don’t think so.”

Sandstorm murmured agreement, and after a moment’s thought Firestar echoed it. “You’re right. The best thing we can do is go home.”

“But something’s wrong; I’m sure of it,” Mistyfoot protested. Her eyes gleamed with anxiety. “What about Leafpool’s dream?”