Spiderleg, sitting on Ashfur’s other side from Squirrelflight, snorted. “Bossy furball,” he muttered. “Who does he think he is? Clan deputy?”
“Brambleclaw is a good warrior,” Ashfur mewed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be deputy.”
“Except that ThunderClan already has a deputy,” Spiderleg pointed out.
“But Greystripe isn’t here,” Ashfur replied. “And sooner or later Firestar is going to have to decide how long he’s prepared to wait for him.”
A sharp thorn of grief stabbed Squirrelflight. Twolegs had captured the ThunderClan deputy just before the Clan fled their old forest home; Squirrelflight still remembered the shock of watching Greystripe being carried away inside the growling, mud-spattered Twoleg monster. No cat knew what had happened to him, yet Firestar refused to believe he was dead, or to appoint another deputy in his place.
Does Brambleclaw really want to be deputy? Squirrelflight wondered. She couldn’t help thinking just like Tigerstar, and remembering how far the murderous tabby had been prepared to go to achieve his ambition.
Firestar called her name, dragging her back to the hollow. “Squirrelflight, you can go with Brambleclaw to WindClan. You too, Ashfur and Rainwhisker.”
Squirrelflight pricked up her ears; a run through the woods would blast away these troubling memories. Ashfur was on his paws already, his tail bolt upright.
“Let’s go!” Squirrelflight meowed, bouncing over to Brambleclaw.
“Not yet,” Brambleclaw replied crushingly, his gaze sweeping over her and Ashfur as if he hardly knew them. “I want to hear the rest of the meeting.”
Glaring at him, Squirrelflight sat down again.
“We need hunting patrols too,” meowed Firestar. “Sandstorm, can you organise those?”
“Of course.” Sandstorm looked up from where she sat at the bottom of the cliff. “But there’s one thing I want to say before we end the meeting.” She paused, and Firestar gestured with his tail for her to continue. “ThunderClan has only one apprentice now. It’s hard to get all the duties done.”
Sorreltail’s brother, Sootfur, twitched his tail. “Yes, I’m fed up with fetching moss for bedding. It’s not a proper warrior’s job,” he complained. He hadn’t been a warrior for long, and obviously had hoped he’d finished with apprentice duties forever once Firestar had given him his new name.
“That’s too bad.” Firestar’s voice was firm as he stared at the young warrior. “You can’t expect one apprentice to do it all.”
“Whitepaw works her paws off,” put in Mousefur. “She deserves a bit of help.”
Whitepaw, the only remaining apprentice, ducked her head and scuffled her forepaws. Squirrelflight could see she hadn’t expected praise from the wiry brown elder, whose tongue was as sharp as her claws.
“I’ll help!” Birchkit bounced up excitedly. “I’m old enough to be an apprentice!”
“No, you’re not,” his mother, Ferncloud, told him gently. “Not for another moon.”
“I’m afraid your mother’s right, Birchkit,” meowed Firestar. “But don’t worry, your time will come. And there’ll still be plenty for you to do. Sandstorm, will you sort out the duties in the meantime so no cat does more than their fair share?”
The ginger she-cat dipped her head in agreement. “I will, and I’ll make sure Whitepaw has enough time to train with her mentor as well. That’s another thing,” she added. “With no apprentices to train, we aren’t practising our warrior skills as much as we used to. If there’s another battle, we could have problems.”
“There’s not going to be another battle,” Spiderleg meowed. “Mudclaw is dead, so where’s the threat?”
“Yeah, we’ve got enough to do,” Sootfur muttered.
“And Mudclaw is the only cat who ever caused trouble?” Mousefur asked scathingly, with a contemptuous twitch of her whiskers. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll know there’s always some kind of threat.”
“Exactly, Mousefur,” Firestar mewed. “The four Clans are drawing apart again, and sooner or later we’ll find that we have no choice but to fight. We need one cat to be responsible for keeping up our battle skills.”
Ashfur opened his jaws to volunteer, but before he could speak Brambleclaw cut in. “I can do that, Firestar.”
Squirrelflight’s fur prickled. The Clan deputy would normally do this kind of job; it looked as if Brambleclaw really was trying to take Greystripe’s place.
“Starting tomorrow, I can spar with two or three cats every morning,” the tabby warrior went on. “Ashfur, I’ll start with you and Spiderleg.”
Ashfur’s blue eyes narrowed. “Claws sheathed?”
Brambleclaw’s gaze met his. “Claws sheathed, but that’s all. We’re not kits play-fighting.”
“Ashfur never said we were!” Squirrelflight sprang up, her fur bristling along her spine. “I’ll fight with you, and see if you think I’m playing!”
Brambleclaw blinked at her. “I’m sure Ashfur doesn’t need you to fight his battles, Squirrelflight. Why not let him speak for himself?”
Squirrelflight ignored Ashfur’s tail, laid warningly on her shoulder. She was too furious to remember she was in the middle of a Clan meeting. “You think you’re so great, Brambleclaw—”
“That’s enough!” Firestar lashed his tail. His green gaze scorched Squirrelflight’s fur; ashamed, she sat down again.
“Told you he’s a bossy furball,” Spiderleg whispered in her ear.
“Thank you, Brambleclaw,” Firestar meowed. “Make sure every cat has a chance to practise as soon as possible.” His gaze travelled over the cats below him as if he were taking in every clawmark and patch of missing fur, assessing how soon they’d be battle-fit again.
Brightheart stood up. “There’s a sheltered clearing not far from here.” The ginger and white she-cat pointed with her tail. “I was hunting there yesterday. The ground is flat and mossy, and it could be a good place to train, like the sandy hollow back in the forest.”
“Sounds ideal,” meowed Firestar. “Show me after the meeting. Brambleclaw, don’t forget to report to me as soon as you get back from WindClan.”
The tabby warrior gave a brisk nod. He turned to Squirrelflight. “We can go now, if you’re ready.”
Squirrelflight sprang up, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t tread on my tail, Brambleclaw.”
“Then start behaving like a warrior, not a mouse-brained apprentice. Unless you think Firestar should have chosen another cat to lead this patrol?”
His voice was as cold as his eyes. Squirrelflight felt a sting of dislike run through her fur. This was not the same cat who had travelled with her and the others to the sun-drown-place. He had been her closest friend on that journey, the cat who meant more to her than any of the others, and now she scarcely recognised him.
“Firestar can choose whichever cat he likes,” she replied, spitting each word out like grit. “You are one of his senior warriors, after all.”
“But that’s not what you really think,” Brambleclaw flashed back at her. His amber eyes blazed and his ears were flattened in fury. “You think I’m disloyal, because I have kin in another Clan. I saw you watching me when I was with Hawkfrost by the lake.”
“It’s a good thing I did,” Squirrelflight retorted. “Otherwise