queen’s anger would not last. She would easily forgive kits she had suckled—when Squirrelflight’s milk had not come, it was Ferncloud who had fed Jaykit, Hollykit, and Lionkit in the moons before Foxkit and Icekit were born.
“It’s about time Firestar made you apprentices and moved you to the apprentice den,” Ferncloud meowed.
“If only.” Lionkit sighed.
“It won’t be long,” Hollykit pointed out. “We’re almost six moons old.”
Jaykit felt the familiar surge of excitement as he imagined becoming an apprentice warrior. He couldn’t wait to begin his training. But without even seeing Ferncloud’s face, he could sense the flicker of doubt that prickled through the queen’s pelt and knew that she was looking at him with pity in her eyes. His fur bristled with frustration—he was just as ready to become an apprentice as Hollykit and Lionkit!
Ferncloud answered Hollykit, unaware that Jaykit had sensed her moment of unease. “Well, you’re not six moons yet! And until you are, you can do your playing outside!” she ordered.
“Yes, Ferncloud,” Lionkit replied meekly.
“Come on, Jaykit,” Hollykit called. “Bring the mouse with you.” The branches of the bramble bush rustled as she slid out through the nursery entrance.
Jaykit picked up the mouse delicately in his teeth. It was newly killed and soft, and he didn’t want to make it bleed—they could have a good, clean game with it yet. With Lionkit close behind him, he scrabbled out after his sister. The barbs of the entrance tunnel clawed satisfyingly at his fur, sharp enough to tug at his pelt but not so sharp that they hurt.
Outside, the air smelled crisp and frosty. Firestar was sharing tongues with Sandstorm below Highledge. Dustpelt sat with them.
“We should be thinking about expanding the warriors’
den,” the dark tabby advised his leader. “It’s crowded already, and Daisy and Sorreltail’s kits won’t be apprentices forever.”
Brightheart and Cloudtail were grooming each other in a pool of sunlight on the other side of the clearing. Jaykit could hear the steady lapping of their tongues like water dripping from a rain-soaked leaf. Like all the ThunderClan cats, their pelts were leaf-bare thick, but the muscles beneath had grown lean with scarce prey and hard hunting.
Hunger was not the only hardship leaf-bare had brought.
Molepaw, one of Sorreltail’s kits, had died of a cough that had not responded to Leafpool’s herbs, and Rainwhisker had been killed during a storm, struck by a falling branch.
Brightheart paused from her washing. “How are you today, Jaykit?”
Jaykit placed the mouse between his paws, safe from Hollykit’s grasp. “I’m fine, of course,” he meowed. Why did Brightheart have to make such a fuss over him? He’d only been sleeping in the nursery, not out raiding ShadowClan territory! It was like she was always keeping her one good eye on him. Eager to prove he was just as strong as his brother and sister, Jaykit flung the mouse high over Hollykit’s head.
As Lionkit thundered past him and grappled with Hollykit to be the first to catch it, Squirrelflight’s voice sounded from the side of the nursery. “You should show more respect for your prey!” Their mother was busy pressing leaves into gaps in the prickly walls that surrounded the queens’ den.
Daisy was helping her. “Kits will be kits,” the white she-cat purred indulgently.
Jaykit’s nostrils flared at Daisy’s strange scent. It was different from the Clanborn cats’, and some of the warriors still referred to her as a kittypet because she had once lived in the horseplace and eaten Twoleg food. Daisy wasn’t a warrior, because she showed no sign that she ever wished to leave the nursery, but her kits Mousepaw, Hazelpaw, and Berrypaw were apprentices, and it seemed to Jaykit that they were as Clanborn as any of his Clanmates.
“They won’t be kits much longer,” Squirrelflight told Daisy, sweeping more leaves to her side with her long tail.
The brittle rustling noise reminded Jaykit of his dream.
“All the more reason to let them enjoy themselves now,”
Daisy replied.
Jaykit felt a wave of affection for the milky white she-cat.
Though Squirrelflight was his mother, it had been Daisy who had warmed and washed him alongside Ferncloud when Clan duties had kept his mother away from the nursery.
Squirrelflight had returned to her warrior duties soon after her kits had been born. Though she still had a nest in the nursery, she used it less and less, preferring to sleep in the warriors’ den, where she wouldn’t disturb the kits and nursing queens when she left on early patrols.
“Can you feel the draft now, Ferncloud?” Squirrelflight called through the nursery wall.
“No.” Ferncloud’s voice drifted out through the tangle of branches. “We’re warm as fox cubs in here.”
“Good,” Squirrelflight meowed. “Can you clear up here, Daisy? I promised Brambleclaw I’d help him check for loose rocks around the hollow.”
“Loose rocks?” Daisy gasped.
“It’s good to have such solid defenses.” Squirrelflight’s voice echoed a little as she gazed at the sheer stone cliffs that enclosed the camp on almost every side. “But the frost might have loosened stones, and we don’t want them falling into the camp.”
Jaykit’s attention was distracted by the bitter stench of mouse bile that came from the elders’ den. Leafpool must be removing a tick from Longtail or Mousefur. A much nicer odor heralded the return of two of Daisy’s kits— Mousepaw and Hazelpaw were bringing fresh-kill back from a hunting expedition. They hurried excitedly into the camp, Mousepaw carrying two mice and Hazelpaw with a large thrush in her jaws. They dropped them at the fresh-kill pile.
Dustpelt padded over to greet them. “Looks like you did well, Hazelpaw!” he praised his apprentice. “You both did.”
The apprentices purred, and Jaykit noticed how much they sounded like their mother, as though their purrs were muffled by their thick, soft pelts.
A sudden rush of wind and fur knocked Jaykit off his paws.
“Are you playing with us or not?” Hollykit demanded.
Jaykit leaped up, shaking himself. “Of course I am!”
“Well, Lionkit’s got the mouse, and he won’t let me have it!” Hollykit complained.
“Let’s get him then!” Jaykit hared across the clearing
toward his brother. He bundled into Lionkit and pressed him to the frosty earth while Hollykit dragged the mouse from Lionkit’s claws.
“Unfair!” Lionkit protested.
“We don’t have to be fair,” Hollykit squeaked triumphantly. “We’re not in StarClan yet!”
“And you never
Lionkit wriggled out from underneath Jaykit. “We’re just practicing our hunting skills!”
“We have to practice,” Jaykit added, sitting up. “We’ll be apprentices soon.”
Stormfur was silent for a moment; then he stretched forward and gave Jaykit a quick lick between the ears. “Of course,” he murmured. “I was forgetting.”
Frustration flared in Jaykit’s belly. Why did the whole Clan treat him like a newborn kit when he was nearly six moons old? He shook his head crossly. Stormfur wasn’t even a proper ThunderClan cat! His father, Graystripe, had once been ThunderClan’s deputy, but Stormfur had grown up with his mother’s Clanmates in RiverClan, and his mate, Brook, had come from far away in the mountains. What right did he have to act superior?
Hollykit’s belly rumbled. “How about we eat this mouse instead of playing with it?”
“You two share it,” Lionkit offered. “I’ll get something from the fresh-kill pile.”
Jaykit turned toward the heap of prey caught by the warriors that morning. A faint odor disturbed him. He took in a deeper breath, opening his jaws to draw the scents into his mouth: he could smell Hazelpaw’s freshly
