“Why should we believe Hawkfrost?” Squirrelflight clawed the ground in frustration.
“Why shouldn’t we?” Brambleclaw countered. “Because Tigerstar was his father? Like he was my father too?”
“That’s not fair,” Ashfur protested, coming to stand at Squirrelflight’s shoulder. “Squirrelflight didn’t say—”
“Keep out of this!” Brambleclaw rounded on the grey tomcat, tail lashing. “It’s got nothing to do with you!”
Squirrelflight’s claws slid out; she was within a heartbeat of slashing at Brambleclaw’s muzzle. Then she saw Firestar heading out of the camp with Brightheart, and she thought how angry her father would be if his warriors started fighting among themselves. She dug her claws deep into the peaty soil instead. “I don’t care who his father was!” she hissed. “I don’t trust Hawkfrost because he plotted to kill Onewhisker. He’ll do anything for power. A blind hedgehog could see it.”
Brambleclaw glared at her for a heartbeat. “You say that, yet you don’t have any proof. Hawkfrost is my brother. I’m not going to turn my back on him when he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Fine!” Squirrelflight exclaimed. “You’re so besotted with him you wouldn’t know the truth if it sat up and bit you. Why not join RiverClan too, if it makes you happier? You obviously don’t care about ThunderClan—or me.”
Brambleclaw was about to spit back a retort when Birchkit lost his balance chasing his tail and stumbled between the tabby warrior’s front paws. His eyes stretched wide as he noticed the two cats glaring at each other with bristling neck fur and twitching tails. “Sorry!” he squeaked and fled for the nursery.
Brambleclaw took a pace back, his lip curled. “Come on, we’re wasting time. We won’t reach WindClan before nightfall at this rate.”
Without waiting to see if the rest of the patrol was following him, he whipped round and stalked towards the entrance, his tail high.
Squirrelflight exchanged a glance with Ashfur and saw concern and gentleness in his blue eyes. After Brambleclaw’s hostility, it was like cool water on a hot day.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Squirrelflight insisted as she set off after Brambleclaw. She brushed past Rainwhisker, who was staring at her as if she’d sprouted rabbit ears. “Hurry up, or we’ll never catch him.”
Brambleclaw didn’t wait for them, but plunged into the thorn tunnel without looking back. As he vanished among the trembling branches, Squirrelflight felt hollow inside; it was almost as if Brambleclaw was deliberately walking out of her life. Would they ever be friends again? She couldn’t see how, after a fight like that.
She just had to accept that whatever they once had, the friendship that had lasted through their long journey, was over.
It was the first time Squirrelflight had left the camp since the battle with Mudclaw, and she found herself enjoying the feel of wind in her fur and the crackle of leaves underpaw. Here and there she glimpsed early signs of newleaf: a few pale snowdrops scattered under a tree, and a single early coltsfoot flower like a splash of sunlight against a mossy green trunk. Squirrelflight reminded herself to tell her sister, Leafpool, where it could be found. Coltsfoot was a good remedy for shortness of breath.
Once they were well away from camp, Brambleclaw stopped. “Why don’t you two take the lead?” he suggested, nodding to Ashfur and Rainwhisker. “Let’s see how well you know the territory.”
“Sure,” Rainwhisker agreed enthusiastically, picking up the pace.
But Ashfur gave the tabby warrior a hard stare before sliding through the bracken after Rainwhisker. Squirrelflight knew why.
“What did you say that for?” she mewed crossly to Brambleclaw when they were alone. “You’re treating them as if they’re your apprentices. Ashfur’s older than you, don’t forget.”
“And I’m leading this patrol,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “If you don’t like my orders, you’d better go back.”
Squirrelflight opened her mouth for a stinging reply, then closed it again. She didn’t want to get dragged into yet another quarrel. Instead, she whisked past Brambleclaw and bounded around the edge of a clump of brambles, following the scent trail Rainwhisker and Ashfur had left.
Ashfur must have heard her brushing through the bracken; he waited for her to catch up and slowed his pace to pad next to her. “The buds on the trees are swelling,” he remarked, flicking his tail towards the branches of an oak. “Not long now till newleaf.”
“I can’t wait,” Squirrelflight mewed. “No more ice and snow, lots more prey.”
“The Clan could do with some extra fresh-kill,” Ashfur agreed. “Talking of fresh-kill, how about we hunt? Do you think Brambleclaw would mind?”
“I don’t give a mousetail whether Brambleclaw minds or not,” Squirrelflight hissed.
She opened her jaws to taste the air. At first she thought she caught a trace of badger, and wondered if she should mention it to Brambleclaw—badgers were trouble, especially if their territory overlapped with a Clan’s. But he was the last cat in the forest she wanted to speak to right now, and she guessed he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say anyway.
She tasted the air again; the scent of squirrel flooded over her, and when she spotted the bushy-tailed creature stooped busily over a nut a few fox-lengths ahead, she pushed the badger to the back of her mind. Checking the direction of the wind, she dropped into a hunter’s crouch and crept up on her prey. As she launched herself forward the squirrel leapt for a nearby tree trunk, but Squirrelflight sprang quickly. Her claws sank into its shoulder and she dispatched it with a swift bite to the neck.
A loud alarm call made her swing round to see a blackbird fluttering up from a clump of bracken while Ashfur watched it in frustration.
“Bad luck!” Squirrelflight called. “I probably startled it by going after the squirrel.”
Ashfur shook his head. “No, I stepped on a twig.”
“Never mind, you can come and share this.” Squirrelflight waved her tail invitingly. “There’s plenty.”
As Ashfur joined her beside the fresh-kill, Brambleclaw appeared from the undergrowth. “What are you doing?” he growled. “We’re on our way to see WindClan, or had you forgotten?”
Squirrelflight swallowed a mouthful of prey. “Come on, Brambleclaw—lighten up, for StarClan’s sake. None of us have eaten this morning.” Awkwardly, not sure how Brambleclaw would react if she tried to be friendly, she drew back from the squirrel. “You can have some if you want.”
“No thanks.” The tabby warrior’s voice was curt. “Where’s Rainwhisker?”
“He went on ahead,” meowed Ashfur, with a wave of his tail.
Without another word, Brambleclaw strode off in the direction the grey tom had indicated, shouldering through the long grass until his dark pelt was swallowed up by damp green fronds.
Squirrelflight let out a hiss of annoyance.
Ashfur flicked her ear lightly with the tip of his tail. “Don’t let him get to you so easily.”
“He doesn’t,” Squirrelflight muttered, trying to convince herself it was true. Once more she remembered how close she and Brambleclaw had been on their journeys, how they had relied on each other and come to need each other. How did we get from there to here? she wondered despairingly.
Glancing up at Ashfur, she saw that his eyes were dark with concern. She knew