killed thrush and Mousepaw’s mice, their blood still warm. But below there was a sour smell that made his tongue curl. He padded past his brother, his tail held stiffly behind him.
“What are you doing?” Lionkit asked.
Jaykit didn’t answer. He nosed his way in among the small dead bodies, caught hold of a wren, and pulled it free. “Look!”
he mewed, rolling the bird over with his paw. The creature’s belly was alive with maggots.
“Ugh!” Hollykit squealed.
Leafpool emerged from the elders’ den, a wad of moss in her jaws. Jaykit could smell the mouse bile on it even over the stench of the rotten wren. She paused by the three kits. “Well spotted,” she praised them, dropping the bile-soaked moss at her paws. “I know prey is scarce at the moment, but better to eat nothing than to eat something that will hurt your belly.”
“Jaykit found it,” Hollykit told her.
“Well, he’s saved me a patient,” Leafpool meowed. “I’m busy enough as it is. Brackenfur and Birchfall have whitecough.”
“Do you want help gathering herbs?” Jaykit offered. He had never been out of the camp, and he was desperate to explore the forest. He wanted to smell the boundary markers;
up till now he had tasted only the weak scents of ShadowClan and WindClan carried from the borders on the pelts of ThunderClan patrols. He wanted to feel the breeze fresh off the lake, untainted by the scents of the forest. He wanted to learn where the markers were along each boundary so that he could defend every pawstep of his Clan’s territory.
“You could gather far more herbs with us to carry them back to camp!” Lionkit put in.
“You know you’re not meant to leave the camp until you’re apprentices,” Leafpool reminded them.
“But you’ll need help if there are sick cats . . . ,” Jaykit insisted.
Leafpool silenced him by flicking the tip of her tail over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Jaykit,” she meowed. “It won’t be long until Firestar gives you your apprentice names. But until then, you’ll have to wait like any other kits.”
Jaykit understood her meaning. Their father was the Clan deputy, and their mother was Firestar’s daughter; Leafpool was reminding them yet again that it did not entitle them to special treatment. His tail twitched crossly. Sometimes it felt like the rest of the Clan went out of their way to make sure he and his littermates
“I’m sorry,” Leafpool meowed. “But that’s just the way it is.” She picked up the foul-smelling moss and padded back to the medicine den.
“Nice try,” Lionkit whispered in Jaykit’s ear. “But it looks like we’re stuck in the camp for a while longer.”
“Leafpool always thinks she can win us over just because she brings wool for our nests from the moorland,” Jaykit hissed. “Or pieces of honeycomb to lick. Why can’t she just give us what we really want—a chance to explore outside the camp?”
Hollykit swished her tail over the frozen ground. Jaykit knew she wanted to explore beyond the camp walls as much as he and Lionkit did. “But she’s right,” she mewed grudg-ingly. “We must stick to the warrior code.”
They ate, sharing the mouse and a vole between them. As Jaykit washed his face afterward, drawing his paws over his ears to give them a thorough cleaning, he noticed Brook emerging from the warriors’ den to join Cloudtail and Brightheart in the sun. She carried a different scent from the other warriors, the scent of mountains and tumbling water. It seemed to make her the strangest of all the cats who were not Clanborn. Was it just her scent, Jaykit wondered, or was it something more he sensed in the mountain she-cat—some wariness that had never left her? He could not quite put his whisker on it, but he was sure that Brook felt out of place here in the forest.
A rustle in the thorn barrier that protected the entrance to the camp signaled Berrypaw’s return. Daisy’s third kit charged over to the fresh-kill pile and threw down his catch—a plump wood pigeon.
“Where’s Brambleclaw?” Berrypaw called out to the kits.
Brambleclaw was Berrypaw’s mentor, and Jaykit could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy that Berrypaw spent so
much time training with Brambleclaw when his own paws ached to hunt in the forest with his father.
“He’s with Squirrelflight,” Jaykit replied. “They’re checking for loose stones.” He pricked his ears, listening for the sound of his mother’s and father’s voices. He could not hear them, but the breeze blowing down from the cliff behind the medicine den carried their scent.
“Up there,” he told Berrypaw, lifting his nose toward them.
“You’re sharp today, Jaykit!” Berrypaw meowed. “I wanted to show him my pigeon and ask him if we were doing battle training after sunhigh.”
Jealousy gnawed harder in Jaykit’s belly.
“You must be really good at hunting.” Lionkit sighed, clearly thinking the same thing.
“It’s just practice,” Berrypaw told them. “Look.” He crouched down. “This is how you begin.”
Lionkit’s belly swished against the ground as he tried to copy Berrypaw.
“Get your tail down!” Berrypaw ordered. “It’s sticking up like a bluebell!”
Lionkit’s tail slapped against the frozen earth.
“Now pull yourself forward, smooth as a snake,” Berrypaw commanded.
“You look like you’ve got wind!” Hollykit crowed.
Lionkit gave a playful hiss and leaped at her, rolling her onto the ground. She fought back, purring with amusement
while Lionkit pummeled her belly with his hind paws.
They were so busy in their play fight that they did not notice the sudden noise outside the camp.
But Jaykit did.
Cats’ paws were pounding toward the camp entrance.
Jaykit recognized the scents of Spiderleg and Thornclaw. The patrol was returning. But something was wrong. The warriors’ paws drummed the forest floor in a panicked rush, their scents bitter with fear.
Jaykit’s fur stood on end as Spiderleg and Thornclaw burst through the entrance.
Firestar and Sandstorm were on their paws in an instant.
“What is it?” Firestar meowed.
Spiderleg drew in a deep breath, then announced, “There’s a dead fox on our territory!”
Chapter 2
“By the Sky Oak,” Thornclaw mewed, panting. “It was killed by a trap.”
Jaykit heard loose pebbles clattering down the wall of the hollow. Brambleclaw was scrambling down into the camp, followed by Squirrelflight.
“What’s happening?” he called.
“Thornclaw and Spiderleg have found a dead fox,” Firestar explained. “Killed by a trap.”
“Male or female?”
“Female,” Spiderleg told her.
“Then there may be cubs,” Brambleclaw growled.
Jaykit was puzzled. “What harm can a couple of fox cubs do?” he whispered to Hollykit.
“Cubs grow up into foxes, mouse-brain!” she hissed back.
“An adult fox can kill a cat.”
“The fox had the scent of milk on her,” Thornclaw reported.
“So there are definitely cubs,” Firestar concluded.
The warriors’ den rattled as Ashfur scrambled out.
“Where was this trap?” Brambleclaw asked. Was that anxiety Jaykit heard in his voice? Surely his father knew
