Crookedpaw gritted his teeth and swiped again at thin air. Through the pain, he felt himself growing stronger, perfectly balanced and more powerful than ever before. This was the training he needed to become a leader! He wondered if Bluepaw was being trained in StarClan as well. What about Oakheart? Would he meet them here one night? Or was this his destiny alone? His promise to Mapleshade rang in his ears.
Crookedpaw straightened at Hailstar’s call. He dragged his numb paw from the water, hooking out the minnow he’d been groping for and dropping it beside two others that he’d caught. He’d been fishing through a narrow ice hole among the reeds. With the river frozen, prey was growing scarce, and he’d promised Cedarpelt he’d find some minnows before he settled down to share tongues with his Clanmates. Leaving his catch, he scrambled, skidding, for the shore. Snow flumped down from the bulrushes as he pushed among the thawing stems.
What did Hailstar want? The sun was sinking, turning the pale sky pink. Crookedpaw ached all over, sore from a night’s training with Mapleshade and stiff from spending the day hunting birds in the willow copse with Cedarpelt. At least it looked as though the cold weather was loosening its grip. In the two nights since the Gathering, the air had lost its aching chill. The river would be flowing again soon. He slithered from the reeds and hurried over the softening snow to the edge of the clearing.
Oakheart trotted to meet him. “There you are!”
“What’s up?” Crookedpaw glanced at Hailstar. The RiverClan leader paced the head of the clearing, hackles high. His eyes glittered. Shellheart stood behind him, tail flicking stiffly.
Oakheart ducked close to Crookedpaw. “I don’t know. Hailstar’s been meeting with Shellheart, Rippleclaw, and Timberfur all afternoon.”
Rippleclaw and Timberfur sat like rocks at the side of the clearing. Timberfur blinked, his gaze unreadable. Rippleclaw was coolly watching a blackbird flitting from bush to bush on the far bank.
“They even called for Brambleberry,” Oakheart whispered.
“Is someone sick?”
Oakheart shrugged. “Birdsong’s got a cough and Brightsky’s been sneezing since the Gathering, but that’s all.”
Beetlenose padded lazily from the fallen tree. Petaldust raced past him and stopped beside Crookedpaw. “What’s happening?”
Beetlenose caught up. “Maybe he’s going to change Crookedpaw’s name again,” he suggested. “To Scarpaw.” He stared at Crookedpaw’s muzzle. “You seem to have a fresh scratch every day.”
Crookedpaw shrugged. “I train hard.”
Voleclaw darted from the dirtplace tunnel. “What did I miss?” he panted.
“Nothing yet,” Petaldust reassured him. “The Clan’s still gathering.”
Troutclaw and Tanglewhisker had reached the clearing. Birdsong peered from the elders’ den, her eyes bright with fever. Dens rattled around the fallen tree as Rainflower, Echomist, and Mudfur slid out. Lakeshine, Softwing, and Shimmerpelt clustered together at the edge of the clearing, ears pricked. Piketooth, Owlfur, and Ottersplash paced beside them. Cedarpelt slid from the sedges, his fur ruffled, padded across the clearing, and sat beside Whitefang.
Brambleberry crouched outside Fallowtail’s den. “Come on,” she coaxed. “RiverClan needs all its warriors.”
Fallowtail poked her head out. “What’s going on?”
“Come and hear.” Brambleberry guided her to the edge of the clearing and nodded to Hailstar.
“We saw ThunderClan at the Gathering,” the RiverClan leader began. “Leaf-bare has left them hungry, as usual.” Murmurs of satisfaction rumbled around the clearing. “They look weak,” Hailstar continued, “while we are strong. At sunset, we take back Sunningrocks!”
Owlfur twitched his ears. “How? Are we just going to move the markers again?”
Hailstar lashed his tail. “We’ll do more than that! The only markers we’ll leave will be ThunderClan’s blood!”
“About time!” Ottersplash called.
Whitefang, hardly visible against the snow, showed his teeth. “I’ll shred any ThunderClan cat I get my claws on!”
Hailstar nodded to the white warrior. “ThunderClan won’t forget this day.”
“What’s the plan?” Lakeshine asked.
“A battle patrol will occupy Sunningrocks and wait for ThunderClan.”
“What if they don’t come?” Shimmerpelt meowed.
“They’ll come.” Rippleclaw stepped forward. “ThunderClan always acts strong when they’re too weak to fight.”
Timberfur plucked at the ground. “It’ll be an easy victory.”
“One we deserve!” Hailstar’s eyes blazed. “We’ve put up with ThunderClan’s arrogance for long enough. Sunningrocks is ours.”
The Clan’s cheer sent Rippleclaw’s blackbird panicking into the sky.
Beetlenose reared and swiped at the air. “I’m going to bring home some ThunderClan fur.”
