Bluefur leaned close to Whitestorm, whose pelt was pricking. “Keep your fur flat,” she whispered, “or you’ll spook them.”
Crookedjaw ran his gaze over the soggy patrol and shook his head. “It would take more than this to overrun our camp,” he conceded.
“We wish only to share words,” Sunstar pressed.
Crookedjaw nodded, eyes like flints. “Follow.” He turned and headed away through the reeds.
Bluefur didn’t like the soft, wet peat squelching beneath her paws, or the openness of the marshland as they left the cover of the riverside trees and headed deeper into RiverClan territory. The winding route took them through a maze of reed beds.
“It’s a wonder their claws don’t turn soft,” Thrushpelt whispered in her ear.
Suddenly Crookedjaw swerved to one side and squeezed through a woven wall of reeds.
Paws tingling, Bluefur followed as her Clanmates squeezed through the camp entrance. The marshy clearing was dotted with dens. Made of sticks, they looked like herons’ nests, spiky and awkward and not nearly as appealing as a scoop filled with moss and feathers.
“Why do they live in such uncomfortable-looking dens?” Lionheart murmured.
“They float if it floods,” Crookedjaw snapped, overhearing him. “Wait here.” He left the ThunderClan cats and ducked into one of the tangled dens.
RiverClan cats blinked from the edges of the clearing, staring in surprise at their visitors.
“Lilystem! Look!” A small gray kit yelped over its shoulder, and a pale tabby slid out of the den behind him. The queen looked at the visitors in dismay until Ottersplash reassured her.
“They say they’re here to talk to Hailstar.”
Lilystem nodded and wrapped her tail around her kit, staying outside to watch.
Two of RiverClan’s senior warriors, Timberfur and Owlfur, prowled around the clearing, their eyes wary and their hackles up. Crookedjaw reappeared with Hailstar following. The RiverClan leader was round-eyed, his gaze curious. He did not speak but simply stared at Sunstar, waiting for the ThunderClan leader to speak.
Sunstar dipped his head. “Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan,” he declared. “We are taking them back.”
Hailstar unsheathed his claws. “You’ll have to fight for them,” he growled.
“We will if we have to,” Sunstar meowed. “But we thought we’d give you fair warning.”
Timberfur padded forward, pelt bristling. “Are you threatening us in our own camp?” He glanced at his Clanmates. Bluefur’s belly tightened. They were surrounded by RiverClan warriors. What if they decided to fight for Sunningrocks right then and there?
“We’re not threatening you,” Sunstar answered calmly. “We’re giving you a choice. If you keep off Sunningrocks, we’ll leave you alone. But any cat who sets paw there will be shredded.”
Hailstar stepped forward. “Do you really think we will give up the rocks so easily?”
“If you prefer a battle, then we’ll fight,” Sunstar meowed. “But are the rocks worth it?” He tipped his head to one side. “You have the river to fish. Your paws are too big to reach far into the cracks of Sunningrocks; your pelts are too clearly marked to stalk prey there. It is no use for hunting. So is it worth fighting for?” The ThunderClan leader made his proposition seem so reasonable, Bluefur waited for Hailstar to agree.
But the RiverClan leader just stared, opening his mouth to scent the air. “I smell fear,” he snarled.
“Then it comes from your own warriors,” Sunstar countered.
“You actually expect us to give up Sunningrocks?” Hailstar hissed.
Sunstar shook his head. “I expect you to fight for them,” he meowed. “Even though you will waste warriors and blood. You will lose, and it will be thanks to your decision.”
Hailstar took a step toward the ThunderClan leader. “RiverClan warriors fight with claws, not words.”
“Very well.” Sunstar nodded. “Sunningrocks are ours. We will set the new markers tomorrow. After that, any RiverClan cat found there will face a fight that he will not win.” He gazed around the camp and raised his voice. “Let all RiverClan know that the warning has been given. Any blood spilled now will be on Hailstar’s paws.” He turned and headed for the entrance.
“Is that it?” Thrushpelt whispered.
“I think that was plenty!” Bluefur was impressed by her leader’s strategy. He’d openly dared RiverClan to fight, yet made it look like their choice. Now all they could do was wait and see how RiverClan reacted when they set the new markers. Would ThunderClan find an ambush waiting, or would RiverClan decide it wasn’t a battle worth fighting?
RiverClan growls followed them out of the camp.
Then paws pounded from the entrance.
Had RiverClan decided to fight after all? The ThunderClan patrol spun around, ready to defend themselves.
Ottersplash faced them, with Timberfur and Owlfur behind her. “We’ll escort you to the border,” she growled.
“Thank you.” Sunstar dipped his head.
“We’re only making sure you go back to your own territory,” Owlfur spat.
