“Did you patrol the new border at the edge of the clearing?” Spiderleg asked.
Brackenfur nodded. “ShadowClan have marked it well,” he meowed. “But there’s no sign they strayed onto ThunderClan territory.”
Dustpelt narrowed his eyes. “They’d better not. It’s bad enough Firestar gave them that piece of land in the first place.
If I catch any ShadowClan cat on the wrong side of the border I’ll rip his fur off!”
“They wouldn’t dare!” Brackenfur growled.
“They dared before Firestar gave them the territory,”
Spiderleg pointed out. He glanced at the scar on Brackenfur’s flank, a reminder of one of the vicious quarrels the two Clans had fought over the stretch of open ground on either side of the stream running down from the Twoleg clearing.
ShadowClan had always laid claim to the territory, and Firestar had finally granted it to them at the last Gathering to save further blood being spilled over a stretch of land that was too bare to offer good hunting.
“It wasn’t worth fighting over,” Stormfur commented.
“Firestar was right to give it up.”
Dustpelt snorted. “ThunderClan has never given up territory before!”
“No,” agreed Brackenfur.
Spiderleg turned in an agitated circle, tail lashing, but Brackenfur went on. “However, the land was too exposed, and the Twolegs will be there soon, once it’s greenleaf.”
“And ThunderClan are more used to hunting in the forest,” Stormfur added.
“Firestar still shouldn’t have given it up so easily,”
Spiderleg insisted.
Lionkit watched nervously from his hiding place as
Spiderleg glared at Stormfur. The long-limbed black warrior was more hotheaded than his father, Dustpelt. But Stormfur refused to be intimidated.
“We gave up nothing but a piece of barren land that was too close to Twoleg territory!” he hissed.
“You sound like Brambleclaw.” Dustpelt curled his lip. “He only agreed with Firestar’s decision because any cat knows he’d rather face a pack of dogs than a Twoleg!”
Lionkit’s fur bristled with anger. His father wasn’t scared of anything!
“Brambleclaw sided with Firestar because it was a wise decision, not because he was scared of Twolegs!” Stormfur retorted.
“Was it wise to stand before all the Clans and announce that ThunderClan can no longer defend its boundaries?”
Spiderleg meowed hotly. “ShadowClan have no right to set one mangy paw on ThunderClan land!”
“Well, it’s ShadowClan land now,” Stormfur concluded.
Spiderleg glared at him. “Of course, you don’t care how much territory we give up,” he snarled. “You’re not a ThunderClan cat!”
Lionkit flinched. Stormfur had fought off the invading ShadowClan warriors as fiercely as any cat. He watched closely, waiting to see how the gray warrior would react. But Stormfur only stared back at Spiderleg, his eyes wide with shock.
Brackenfur stepped between them, his eyes glinting
anxiously in the moonlight. “It doesn’t matter if we disagree,”
he meowed. “The decision has been made.”
“But now ShadowClan will think they can take whatever they want from us!” Spiderleg objected.
“Firestar made it clear that he was doing ShadowClan a favor when he let them take the land,” Brackenfur reminded him. “He left no cat in any doubt that he was acting out of wisdom rather than weakness.”
“Then why did Onestar and Leopardstar look so interested?” Dustpelt snapped. “It was obvious they thought ThunderClan couldn’t defend their territory.”
“What if WindClan decide they want a piece of the forest on the other side?” Spiderleg chipped in. “Onestar hasn’t exactly been a friend of ours since he became leader.”
“He’s been okay since he helped us with the badger attack,”
Brackenfur pointed out.
“But he’s still going to be looking out for his Clan,”
Dustpelt argued. “If he thinks we’re weak he might see a chance to expand his territory.”
“Can you imagine Firestar giving up any prey-rich part of our territory?” Stormfur asked.
Dustpelt glared at him for a moment, then dipped his head. “No,” he conceded.
“And we don’t have to worry about RiverClan,”
Brackenfur pressed. “We share no boundaries with them, and Leopardstar’s been pretty quiet since Hawkfrost died on our territory.”
“Does any cat really know what happened to Hawkfrost?”
Stormfur asked.
“Only that Firestar found his body while he was on patrol with Brambleclaw and Ashfur,” Spiderleg meowed.
Lionkit did not fully understand. He had heard Daisy and Ferncloud talking about Hawkfrost, the RiverClan deputy who had died on ThunderClan territory, impaled on a wooden spike from a fox trap. No one was sure what the RiverClan warrior had been doing there. Lionkit had tried to ask his father once about Hawkfrost—after all, Hawkfrost was Brambleclaw’s half brother and therefore Lionkit’s kin—
but Brambleclaw had been reluctant to answer. The only information he would give was that Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight had carried the dead RiverClan warrior back to his camp as they would have done with any fallen warrior, and that he had been mourned by his Clanmates.
As Lionkit strained to hear whether the warriors’ conversation would reveal anything new, he felt the thorn barrier rustle around him. He realized with a jolt that he was right beside the small entrance that led to where the cats made their dirt—the same entrance that he, Jaykit, and Hollykit had sneaked out of in search of the fox cubs. Alarmed, Lionkit sniffed the air. Mousepaw was squeezing his way back through less than a tail-length away.
He shrank further back into the shadows, but he could not escape Mousepaw’s sharp nose.
“Lionkit?” Mousepaw hissed into the darkness.
Lionkit wondered for a moment whether to bury himself deeper in the barrier, but he didn’t like the look of the thorns, and besides, his pride would not let him. “I’m in here,” he confessed.
As he spoke, Dustpelt’s amber gaze flashed toward them.
“Mousepaw?” he called.
Lionkit held his breath. Would the apprentice give him away? They had been denmates for a while in the nursery, but Mousepaw might side with the warriors now.
“I’m just on my way back to the den,” Mousepaw told Dustpelt. A moment later he squeezed into Lionkit’s hiding place. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the nursery?” he whispered.
Lionkit flicked his tail crossly. He was grateful that Mousepaw hadn’t given him away, but he hated being treated like a feeble kit. “I couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled. “I’m used to having Jaykit around.”
“Why were Dustpelt and Stormfur arguing?”
“They were talking about Firestar’s decision to give ShadowClan the bit of land by the river,” Lionkit explained.
“Dustpelt accused Stormfur of not being a real ThunderClan warrior.”
Mousepaw flattened his ears, shocked. “I’m surprised that Stormfur didn’t shred him!”
“But Stormfur’s
Lionkit pointed out, puzzled.
“You’d better not say that to his face!” Mousepaw warned.
“But he was born in RiverClan and lived with the Tribe.”
“Mousepaw!” Dustpelt’s voice sounded from the clearing.
Mousepaw shoved Lionkit further back into the bush. He stifled a squeak of pain as thorns dug into his pelt, and Mousepaw squeezed out from under the branches.
“Shouldn’t you be back in the apprentices’ den?” Dustpelt queried.
