Before they had gone much farther, Cloudtail came to walk alongside Bramblestar, who tried not to let his nose twitch at the reek of mud coming from the warrior’s white pelt. “I’m a bit worried about Jessy,” Cloudtail whispered. “Should we really be taking a kittypet into battle?”
“I know she hasn’t had much training,” Bramblestar mewed. “We’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t get cornered one-on-one.”
Cloudtail grunted. “We might all be too busy watching out for our own tails.”
“I’m looking forward to this!” Bramblestar heard Lionblaze speaking just behind him, excitement in his voice. “It’s been moons since we’ve had to use our battle moves.”
“Which is a good thing,” Cinderheart replied.
“I know,” Lionblaze told her. “It’s not like I want to go through the Great Battle again; don’t think that. But how dangerous will it be, teaching a few kittypets to keep away from Clan cats?”
Bramblestar glanced back over his shoulder. “Kittypets who have already defeated ShadowClan,” he pointed out.
Lionblaze’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, ShadowClan!”
“Remember that you don’t have your—your power anymore,” Cinderheart warned him. “You can get injured, just like any other cat.”
“I’ll be careful,” Lionblaze told her, flexing his claws. “Don’t worry.”
Cinderheart looked doubtful, as if she didn’t quite believe him, but she said no more.
“Hey, Bramblestar!” Ivypool’s voice came from a few fox-lengths away. “Come and look at this!”
Ivypool and her apprentice had been ranging away on one side; now they were standing in front of a drift of white on the ground. Padding closer, Bramblestar picked up the scent of ShadowClan, and realized that the white stuff was a scatter of pigeon feathers.
“ShadowClan must have killed here,” Ivypool meowed.
Bramblestar nodded; the scent was fresh, too, much more recent than the other traces he had picked up.
“ShadowClan seems to be doing well enough on their own,” Thornclaw declared, bounding up and giving the feathers a sniff. “Do they really need our help with these kittypets?”
“One dead pigeon doesn’t mean a full fresh-kill pile,” Bramblestar meowed. “And remember that our borders will be threatened if ShadowClan goes hungry.”
But as the patrol set out again, Bramblestar admitted to himself that he was starting to have his own doubts about their mission. I can’t let Tawnypelt’s Clan suffer, he insisted. And we need to protect our own territory. But his paws prickled at the thought of being caught here by a ShadowClan patrol.
A little farther on, Bramblestar realized that the pine trees had begun to thin out. He stiffened as he caught a faint trace of a Twoleg and a dog, then relaxed as he realized that they were long gone.
Jessy trotted up to his side. “Do you see that tree stump?” she mewed, waving her tail at the remains of a lightning-blasted tree. “I’m pretty sure I recognize it. We must be getting close.” She went on more cautiously, sniffing here and there, while the rest of the patrol bunched together as they followed.
“There’s kittypet scent here,” Jessy announced, raising her head. “And I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who have been harassing ShadowClan.”
“How sure are you?” Blossomfall pressed. “We can’t attack innocent kittypets.”
“No kittypets are innocent!” Snowpaw declared. “They’re all fat and lazy.”
Jessy cleared her throat meaningfully.
Snowpaw glanced sideways at her, his ears flattened. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“We won’t fight any needless battles,” Bramblestar assured his Clanmates. “Ivypool, you go off in that direction”—he waved his tail—“and Cinderheart, you go that way. Look for more traces of the kittypets, and any sign of ShadowClan patrols.”
I really don’t want to be caught here, he thought as the two she-cats headed off in opposite directions. These are ShadowClan hunting grounds now.
Bramblestar waited until Cinderheart and Ivypool returned, reporting no further traces of the kittypets.
“We’ll have to go closer to their dens,” Jessy meowed. “This way.” She led them on until the trees thinned out even more, and dense undergrowth filled the gaps between the trunks. Wriggling his way through thick bushes that snagged his fur and soaked him to the skin, Bramblestar emerged into an open space with a line of Twoleg fences at the far side. Twoleg dens, built of reddish stone, reared up beyond the fences.
The rest of the patrol emerged, bristling at the unfamiliar surroundings and the strong scent of Twolegs, though Cloudtail padded over to Bramblestar and murmured, “This reminds me of the old forest, where the trees met the Twolegplace.”
“You’re right,” Bramblestar agreed. “The same plants, the same kind of smells…”
“My mother, Princess, came from a den like these,” Cloudtail added. “So did Firestar.”
Bramblestar nodded, feeling a pang of unexpected regret that he would never see the old forest again. But a heartbeat later he was distracted by Jessy calling to him.
“I know where I am now! I recognize that big tree with the white flowers. Come on!”
She began running ahead, more confident with every stride, while the rest of the patrol raced after her.
“Look, there’s the den with the broken fence!” Jessy meowed. “And the place where I played with some little Twolegs. It’s not far now.”
“I think she’s just showing off,” Thornclaw grumbled as he bounded along at Bramblestar’s side.
“We’d be lost without her,” Lionblaze pointed out. “Literally.”
Finally Jessy stopped and the patrol gathered around her. “The kittypet who lives behind this fence is called Victor, I think,” she began. “He comes into the woods with Ziggy and Riga. If any cats are going to cause trouble, it’ll be those three.”
“Thanks, Jessy.” Bramblestar turned to his Clanmates. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Jessy and I will scout ahead.”
He noticed that the warriors didn’t look too happy, but none of them protested as he jumped up to the top of the fence. Jessy followed him and together they looked down onto the neat square of grass behind the Twoleg den, surrounded by bushes and brightly colored Twoleg flowers.
“No sign of Victor,” Jessy commented. “He might have gone to visit the others.”
“Then let’s go look,” Bramblestar meowed.
With Jessy in the lead they ran along the top of the fence, checking the enclosed spaces, each with its square of grass. Bramblestar could scent several different cats, but they didn’t see any.
Suddenly a stronger aroma wafted over Bramblestar. “Who are you, and what do you want?” a voice growled from behind him.
Bramblestar turned, balancing awkwardly on the narrow fence-top. A muscular black-and-white tom stood in front of him, his teeth bared in the beginnings of a snarl.
“Who wants to know?” Bramblestar asked. “Are you Victor?”
“No, I’m a friend of his,” the black-and-white tom replied. “My name’s Webster.” He peered around Bramblestar and spoke to Jessy. “I’ve seen you around, whatever your name is. What are you doing with these wild cats?”
“I’m Jessy, and this is Bramblestar,” Jessy replied. “We’ve come to tell you to leave the wild cats alone.”
In spite of the defiance in her voice, her statement sounded feeble. Why should they do what we say, unless we back it up with our claws? Bramblestar thought.
“Oh, sure.” Webster was scornful. “We’ll do exactly what you tell us—not!”
Bramblestar felt exposed on the fence-top, his legs wobbling as he unsheathed his claws. Webster flicked his tail-tip contemptuously and took a threatening stride forward so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Bramblestar. Though Bramblestar was aware that behind him Jessy was bristling, ready for a fight, he knew that he couldn’t take on cats like this, so far above the forest floor.