“But you won’t camp in the trees,” Crowfeather meowed. “If you make this your territory, you’ll need somewhere easy to defend for your camp.”
Tawnypelt nodded and looked around. The old ShadowClan camp had been in the shelter of a clump of bramble bushes, dense enough to keep the cats hidden and prickly enough to discourage even the most curious foxes. “I can’t see anywhere here,” she commented.
The ground sloped gently upwards from the lake, which was just visible through the trees as a glimmer of silver. As far as Brambleclaw could see the forest floor was smooth and clear, with little undergrowth where prey might be found. When he tasted the air, the strongest scent except for their own was squirrel—but a Clan could not survive by waiting for squirrels to come down from the trees.
A pang of sympathy for his sister tore through him like a claw. In the forest they had left, ShadowClan’s territory had been dreary and unwelcoming: partly bog, partly scrubby forest with few tall trees. He had always wondered if the darkness in the hearts of some of the ShadowClan cats came from their gloomy surroundings. This wasn’t quite as forbidding, but it still wasn’t right for cats.
“It might be different further on,” he mewed encouragingly. “Let’s head away from the lake.”
Tawnypelt took the lead as they moved warily up the slope. The thick covering of brittle pine needles muffled their pawsteps; everything was so quiet that their meows sounded too loud, and gradually every cat fell silent. Brambleclaw nearly jumped out of his fur when a bird shot up with a loud alarm call.
Squirrelflight sniffed at a clump of yellowish fungi and drew back with her lip curled in disgust. “I wouldn’t want to live here,” she muttered to Brambleclaw. “Do you think there’s any point in going further?”
“It’s up to Tawnypelt,” he replied. “This is more like ShadowClan territory than anything we’ve seen so far.”
They padded on, but before they had gone many more pawsteps Mistyfoot stopped. “This is no good,” she meowed. “We’re getting further and further away from the lake, and it’s going to get dark soon.”
“I need to find somewhere for a ShadowClan camp,” Tawnypelt insisted stubbornly.
“But the Clans sent us to patrol the whole lake.” Mistyfoot’s tail twitched. “We can’t waste time exploring one place more than anywhere else. You’ve already said that these trees remind you of your old home, so maybe this should be ShadowClan territory.”
“And what do you think I’m going to say to Blackstar about where we’ll actually live?” Tawnypelt’s voice had grown sharper, and her neck fur began to rise. “You needn’t think ShadowClan are going to take the worst territory. If there’s nowhere to camp, then forget it!”
Mistyfoot’s neck fur bristled too. “Trust ShadowClan to be difficult!”
“It’s all right for you, isn’t it? RiverClan’s got everything sorted out. You were pretty quick to stake a claim when we found that stream!”
Mistyfoot let out a furious hiss, unsheathing her claws, and Brambleclaw quickly stepped forward to push himself between the quarrelling she-cats. Much as he sympathised with Tawnypelt, it would be a disaster if she got into a fight with the RiverClan deputy. There was no way they could deal with injuries out here, with no medicine cats and no healing herbs; and how would they ever finish their mission if they were quarrelling among themselves?
“Stop! Tawnypelt, no cat will force ShadowClan to settle in a place they don’t want.”
“Huh!” Tawnypelt shot a last glare at Mistyfoot before turning away.
“I think we should go on a bit further,” Brambleclaw mewed to Mistyfoot. “We need to find somewhere to spend the night.”
“I know.” Mistyfoot still sounded out of temper. “I just think we should head back to the lake.”
“But—” Brambleclaw broke off. A faint breeze had sprung up, bringing with it an unexpected scent. He tasted the air, just to be sure. “More cats!” he exclaimed.
“What?” Squirrelflight bounded over. “Where?”
Brambleclaw angled his ears in the direction they had been going. “Up ahead.”
“They must be rogues or loners.” Crowfeather sounded concerned. “Or maybe some other Clan has already staked a claim here.”
The suggestion worried Brambleclaw for a moment; then he comforted himself with the memory of stars shining in the lake. If StarClan had brought them here, then there could be no other warrior ancestors watching over this territory. StarClan had been silent and invisible while the Clans travelled through the mountains, where the Tribe of Endless Hunting watched over their former home.
“Maybe they’re just passing through,” he meowed. “But we ought to check it out.”
“I don’t think it’s important now.” Mistyfoot waved her tail as Brambleclaw opened his jaws to protest. “All right, all right. But you can tell the leaders why it took us so long to get back.”
“Fine,” Brambleclaw agreed, before heading through the trees in the direction of the scent. Soon they came to a low wall of rough grey stone with a Twoleg nest beyond it.
“Twolegs!” Tawnypelt sounded disgusted. “Those must be kittypets we can smell.”
Squirrelflight rolled her eyes. “All this fuss about kitty pets!”
“You stay here,” Brambleclaw mewed softly. “I’m going to take a closer look.”
“What for?” Mistyfoot’s tail twitched impatiently, but she didn’t say anything else when Brambleclaw crept forward.
With his belly close to the ground, he got as close to the wall as he could before leaping to the top. The sunlight was almost gone by now, and shadows were gathering in the Twoleg garden. Nothing stirred. Brambleclaw was about to jump down for a closer look when he heard the sound of claws on the stone beside him, and Squirrelflight’s voice exclaimed, “Catmint!”
“I thought I told you to stay back there,” Brambleclaw hissed.
Squirrelflight gave him an innocent look. “Did you? Sorry. Anyway, the medicine cats will be interested to hear that we’ve found a supply of catmint.”
“That was well scented,” Brambleclaw admitted grudgingly. “Now if you must come, stay with me, and for StarClan’s sake keep quiet!”
He dropped into the garden behind a clump of whiskery Twoleg plants. Squirrelflight landed softly beside him, and together they crept closer to the Twoleg nest. The scent of kittypets was very strong: two of them, Brambleclaw thought. He was about to suggest going back when a light flashed on in the nest and he found himself blinking in the yellow glow. Instinctively he slid to one side, back into the shadows, and watched as a Twoleg appeared and began to pull pelts across to hide the light.
“Squirrelflight?” he whispered. “Where are you? Let’s get out of here.”
Squirrelflight’s voice came from the other side of the patch of light. “Er . . . Brambleclaw, you might want to rethink that.”
At first Brambleclaw couldn’t see her in the fast-gathering darkness. Then as the Twoleg hid the last of the light he spotted her, close to the wall of the nest. Her back was arched and her fur fluffed out so she looked almost twice her size. Two angry kittypets faced her, trapping her against the wall.
Brambleclaw stared in disbelief. In spite of their hostile encounter with a kittypet at the start of their journey, he still expected most kittypets to be small and soft—no danger to a trained warrior. But these two looked lean and dangerous, their muscles sharply etched beneath sleek