Tornear silenced his apprentice by flicking his tail across his mouth. “That’s none of ThunderClan’s business either,” he snapped. “So long as we stay on our side of the border, we can hunt what we like.”
“But squirrels don’t know about the border. They cross over it. You’d be eating our prey.”
“If it’s on WindClan territory it becomes our prey!”
Tornear snapped.
“Squirrels have always been
“Is that part of the warrior code?” sneered Tornear. He took a step forward, his eyes glittering.
Dustpelt dropped into a crouch, ready to spring. Blood pounded in Lionpaw’s ears. He unsheathed his claws again; his tiredness forgotten, he was more than ready to show these pushy WindClan cats what happened to warriors who dare invade ThunderClan’s hunting grounds.
“Leave it,” Whitetail murmured to her Clanmate. “This isn’t worth losing fur over.”
Tornear dragged his gaze from Dustpelt and looked at Whitetail. Lionpaw held his breath, then Tornear nodded.
“Okay. For now.”
Dustpelt watched through narrowed eyes as the WindClan cats turned and padded away along the border, deliberately not hurrying.
“Come on.” Sandstorm flicked her tail toward home.
Dustpelt didn’t move. “Not until they’ve left the trees.”
Sandstorm sat down and began to wash her face. “You three may as well see if you can find any prey to take back while we’re waiting.”
Lionpaw reluctantly stopped watching the dawdling WindClan patrol and followed Honeypaw and Hazelpaw over to a patch of brambles.
“Do you think WindClan are planning to invade?” Hazelpaw whispered.
Honeypaw’s eyes stretched wide. “What makes you think that?”
“Chasing squirrels is what forest cats do. But they’re moorland cats,” Hazelpaw mewed. “It’s a bit suspicious.”
“Well, Dustpelt’s acting like they are,” Lionpaw commented.
Honeypaw glanced back over her shoulder. “But why would they want to take our territory?”
“Perhaps the Twolegs and their dogs are more of a problem for WindClan than we realized,” Lionpaw suggested.
“They coped with it last newleaf,” Hazelpaw pointed out.
Foreboding clawed at Lionpaw’s belly. “It might be worse this time.”
“Anything to report?” Firestar called down from Highledge as the dawn patrol padded into camp.
“WindClan are hunting in the forest,” Dustpelt answered.
“In
Lionpaw padded quickly to the fresh-kill pile and dropped the mouse he had caught, then hurried back to join Dustpelt. He was ready to defend his Clan’s prey from any marauding WindClan cats, but what if one of those cats was Heatherpaw?
“Lionpaw!” Hollypaw stopped him halfway. “What’s going on?”
Jaypaw was with her; his ears pricked with interest.
“WindClan were at the border,” Lionpaw explained. He glanced at the patrol.
The ThunderClan leader had reached Dustpelt and Sandstorm. He was lashing his tail, clearly disturbed by Dustpelt’s news.
“They haven’t crossed the border,” Sandstorm explained.
The tip of Dustpelt’s tail twitched. “They almost did.”
Brambleclaw emerged from the warriors’ den. “What’s going on?”
“Two WindClan apprentices near our border,” Sandstorm meowed. “They were chasing a squirrel and nearly crossed the stream by mistake.”
Hollypaw bristled. “A
“They should have known better,” Dustpelt growled.
“Unless they’re so used to crossing the stream
“There was no scent of WindClan in our territory,” Sandstorm reminded him.
“But why is WindClan chasing squirrels?” Brambleclaw demanded. “They hunt rabbit.”
Hollypaw hissed into Lionpaw’s ear, “Exactly!”
“Not anymore.” Hazelpaw kneaded the ground.
“Breezepaw said that all the WindClan apprentices are being trained to hunt in woodland now.”
Brambleclaw stiffened. “We must re-mark the borders!” he meowed.
“We’ve already done that,” Dustpelt told him.
Sandstorm sat down. “Let’s not make a big thing about this. It was just two young cats—”
Dustpelt cut her off. “Hunting
“We should be on our guard,” Brambleclaw advised. “It needs to be reported at the next Gathering.”
Firestar plucked at the ground. “Did any WindClan cats cross the border?”
“No,” Sandstorm replied.
“And there was definitely no scent of WindClan cats on our side of the stream?” Firestar pressed.
“None.”
Dustpelt snorted. “The rain might have washed it clean.”
“Or they’ve never crossed the border,” Firestar pointed out. “I can’t tell WindClan what to hunt on their own territory.” He turned away. “We’ll leave it for now and see what happens.”
Jaypaw narrowed his eyes. “Not again!” he muttered.
Lionpaw glanced at his brother. “What do you mean?”
“Firestar didn’t want to help RiverClan either,” Hollypaw explained. “Even though Jaypaw dreamed they were in trouble.”
“How are the Clans going to respect us if we never do anything?” Jaypaw complained.
Lionpaw frowned. “Does it matter? So long as none of them cross our borders.”
