“There’s no need for that,” Firestar pointed out, keeping his voice mild. “We’re not invading your territory, and we’re not trying to steal prey.”
“Then what do you want?” Russetfur demanded bad-temperedly. “What are we supposed to think when you trespass on our territory?”
“I’m sorry about that.” Firestar leaped down from the tree trunk and padded across to her. “I . . . I know we shouldn’t be here. It’s just that I have to speak to Blackstar. Something has happened, something that’s too urgent to wait for the next Gathering.”
Russetfur sniffed disbelievingly, but sheathed her claws. Leafpaw felt her racing heart begin to slow down. The ShadowClan deputy was too badly outnumbered to launch another attack, especially when she had sent away the grey tom, Cedarheart.
“What’s so urgent then?” she growled.
Firestar gestured with his tail through the sparse trees, towards the swath of destruction that the Twoleg monster had left on this side of the Thunderpath. “Isn’t that enough?” he asked desperately.
Russetfur silenced him with a furious hiss. “If you think ShadowClan is weakened . . .”
“I didn’t say that,” Firestar protested. “But you must have seen that we’ve had the same trouble in our territory. Now, are you going to drive us off, or are you going to let us talk to Blackstar?”
Russetfur narrowed her eyes, then gave a curt nod. “Very well. Follow me.”
She led the way through the bushes. The ThunderClan cats bunched together behind her, and the tabby ShadowClan warrior brought up the rear. Leafpaw’s heart began to pound again as the scents of the strange territory flowed around her. Even the day had grown darker, clouds covering the sun so that their path was shadowed. She tried to stop herself from jumping at every sound, or staring around as if there might be a ShadowClan warrior lurking behind every tree.
Soon Leafpaw became aware of a stronger ShadowClan scent coming from up ahead. Russetfur led the way around a thick clump of hazel; following her, Leafpaw stopped dead in front of a long line of cats—lean warriors with their muscles tensed and the light of battle in their eyes. Behind them rose a tangled wall of brambles.
“That’s the ShadowClan camp,” Cinderpelt muttered close to Leafpaw’s ear. “It doesn’t look as if Blackstar is going to invite us in.”
The ShadowClan leader stood in the middle of his warriors. He was a huge white cat with black paws; his pelt showed the scars of many battles. As the ThunderClan cats appeared he stepped forward and faced Firestar with narrowed eyes.
“What’s this?” His voice was rough. “Does the great Firestar think he can go where he likes in the forest?”
Firestar ignored the contempt in Blackstar’s tone, simply dipping his head in the courteous greeting of one leader to another. “I have come to talk to you about what the Twolegs are doing,” he began. “We have to decide what we’re going to do if it carries on.”
“We? What do you mean, we? ShadowClan does not talk with ThunderClan,” Blackstar retorted. “We make our own decisions.”
“But the forest is being destroyed!”
Leafpaw heard the exasperation in her leader’s tone, and knew how hard it was for Firestar to stay calm when the ShadowClan leader insisted on treating him like an enemy.
The ShadowClan leader shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Firestar, you’re panicking over nothing. Twolegs are mad. Even the smallest kit knows that. True, they knocked down a few trees—but now they’ve gone away again. Whatever was going on, it’s over.”
Leafpaw wondered if Blackstar really believed that. Surely he couldn’t be such a fool? Or was this just a show of bravado to convince Firestar that ShadowClan had nothing to worry about?
“And if it’s not over?” Firestar asked steadily. “If it gets worse? Prey has been frightened away from where the Twolegs have been. What if the Twolegs claw up more of our territories? What will you do in leaf-bare, Blackstar, if you can’t feed your Clan?”
One or two of the ShadowClan warriors looked uneasy, but their leader stared defiantly at Firestar.
“We have no reason to fear leaf-bare,” he meowed. “We can always eat rats from Carrionplace.”
Cinderpelt twitched her ears impatiently. “Have you forgotten what happened last time you tried that? Half your Clan died from sickness.”
“That’s true.” A small tabby tom, crouched at the end of the line, spoke up boldly. Leafpaw recognised Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. “I was ill myself. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you, Cinderpelt.”
“Be quiet, Littlecloud,” Blackstar ordered. “The sickness was a punishment from StarClan because Nightstar was not a properly chosen leader. There’s no danger in eating food from Carrionplace now.”
“There’s danger if a leader silences his medicine cat,” Cinderpelt retorted tartly. “Or pretends to know more than they do about the will of StarClan.”
Blackstar glared at her, but said nothing.
“Listen to me,” Firestar began again desperately. “I believe that great trouble is coming to the forest, trouble that we’ll survive only if we work together.”
“Mouse dung!” Blackstar snarled. “Don’t try to tell me what to do, Firestar. I’m not one of your warriors. If you have anything to say, you should do what we have always done, and bring it to the next Gathering at Fourtrees.”
Part of Leafpaw felt that the ShadowClan leader was right. The warrior code dictated that the business of the forest should be discussed at Gatherings. There was nowhere else that cats could meet under the sacred truce of StarClan. At the same time, she knew that the Twolegs wouldn’t wait until after the next full moon to continue their destruction of the forest. What else might happen by the time of the next Gathering?
“Very well, Blackstar.” Firestar’s voice was hollow with defeat. It’s happening, Leafpaw thought in panic. He’s giving up. The forest is going to be destroyed. “If that’s the way you want it. But if the Twolegs come back, you have my permission to send a messenger into ThunderClan territory, and we will talk again.”
“Generous as always, Firestar.” Blackstar meowed scornfully. “But nothing’s going to happen that we can’t handle ourselves.”
“Mouse-brain!” Greystripe hissed.
Firestar shot Greystripe a warning glance, but the ShadowClan leader did not reply. Instead, he swept his tail towards Russetfur.
“Take some warriors and escort these cats off our territory,” he ordered. “And in case you were thinking of paying us another uninvited visit,” he added to Firestar, “we’ll be increasing our patrols along that border. Now go.”
There was nothing to do but obey. Firestar turned and signalled to his own cats to follow him. Russetfur and her warriors gathered around them in a threatening semicircle, letting them walk away but keeping them bunched tightly together. Leafpaw was glad when the tunnel under the Thunderpath came into sight, and more relieved still to be through it and heading for their own part of the forest.
“And don’t come back!” Russetfur spat as they crossed the border.
“We won’t!” Greystripe hurled a parting shot over his shoulder. “We were only trying to help, you stupid furball.”
“Leave it, Greystripe.” Now that they were back in their own territory, Firestar let his disappointment show. Leafpaw felt a sharp stab of compassion for him; it wasn’t his fault that ShadowClan had refused to listen to reason.
“Maybe we should try talking to WindClan?” she suggested quietly to Cinderpelt as the patrol headed for camp. “Perhaps they’ve