Bramblestar was acutely conscious of his Clanmates exchanging glances. “Sure,” he replied.
“Spiderleg and Amberpaw as well?” Squirrelflight suggested.
“Of course,” Bramblestar agreed, wanting to be off as soon as possible. “Let’s go.”
With Bramblestar in the lead, the four cats headed straight up the ridge and across the border into the woods beyond. The sun rose in front of them, sending shafts of golden warmth between the trees. The last of Bramblestar’s weariness faded away, and he felt ready for anything.
“Are we looking for signs of ShadowClan trespassing?” Spiderleg asked as they crossed their own scent marks.
“No,” Bramblestar replied. “Badgers.”
“Badgers?” Amberpaw echoed, her voice rising to a squeak. “Wow!” She slid out her claws and let her shoulder fur bristle up. “Are we going to fight them?”
Spiderleg gave his apprentice a friendly nudge. “You’d be better off running away,” he mewed. “You’d hardly make a mouthful for one of those huge beasts.”
“I’ll never run away!” Amberpaw exclaimed.
“Don’t tease her,” Jessy protested to Spiderleg. Turning to Amberpaw, she added, “Don’t worry. Bramblestar taught me some moves for when a badger attacks. I’ll show you if you like.”
“That’s okay,” Spiderleg told her. “Amberpaw is my apprentice.” His tone was frosty, and Bramblestar could understand why.
A kittypet trying to take over his apprentice’s training! But Jessy learns so fast, she’d make a good mentor one day.
“We’re not going to fight,” Bramblestar meowed. “I’ve spotted a few traces, smelled a few scents, and I just want to make sure there isn’t a badger set anywhere we’re hunting right now.”
Amberpaw was wide-eyed as the patrol padded onward. She paused beside every tree or clump of bracken to have a good sniff. “I’ve scented one!” she squealed, backing away from a tangle of gnarled oak roots.
Bramblestar padded up to check. “No, that’s fox,” he told the bristling apprentice. “And it’s several days old. But well done for spotting it.”
Eyes shining, Amberpaw went on sniffing, expecting at any moment to detect an entire den of badgers. But it was Spiderleg who found the first traces, a heap of droppings in the shelter of a bramble thicket.
“They’re pretty stale,” he commented, backing away and passing his tongue over his lips in disgust.
Bramblestar studied the scent for himself. “Three days old, at a guess,” he meowed. “And I think the badger went that way.” He angled his ears in the direction of the Twoleg nests where Victor and his friends lived.
“The kittypets are welcome to them,” Spiderleg grunted.
“That’s amazing!” Jessy exclaimed. “Bramblestar, can you really tell how old those droppings are, and which way the badger was heading?”
“It’s all part of warrior training,” Bramblestar told her. “I think we should follow the scent for a while,” he went on. “Just to be sure that there isn’t a set nearby.”
With Bramblestar in the lead, the patrol tracked the badger until they drew close to the ShadowClan border. There was no sign of a set. “We may as well turn back,” Bramblestar decided. “I don’t want Rowanstar to accuse us of trespassing again. We—”
He broke off at a harsh squawk and a squeal of terror from Amberpaw. Spinning around, he saw that a rook had flown down and was attacking the small apprentice, stabbing her with its beak. Amberpaw bared her teeth and lashed out with one paw, but the rook was too big and fierce for her, pressing into the attack in a flurry of feathers.
Spiderleg flashed past Bramblestar and flung himself on top of Amberpaw, hiding her from the rook. The bird battered at him with its wings and tried to fasten its claws into his back. Bramblestar let out a defiant yowl and hurled himself at the rook, his claws slashing at it. The rook squawked again and beat its wings to avoid his blows. Before it could gain height, Jessy leaped into the air and grabbed it. She fell back to the ground and rolled over, the rook flapping furiously in an attempt to escape. Its harsh cry was cut off as it went limp. Panting, Jessy rose to her paws and stood over her prey.
“That was outstanding!” Bramblestar meowed. “Great job, Jessy!”
Jessy’s eyes shone with pride.
“We’re on a border patrol,” Spiderleg muttered as he scrambled off Amberpaw and smoothed down his ruffled fur. “Not a hunting patrol.”
“All fresh-kill is welcome,” Bramblestar retorted. “Amberpaw, are you okay?”
The apprentice tottered a little as she regained her paws, and checked herself for injuries. “I’m fine, thanks, Bramblestar.”
“If that rook attacked us,” Bramblestar mewed thoughtfully, “there must be a new nest somewhere close by.” He peered up into the trees and spotted an untidy cluster of twigs lodged in the fork of a branch in a nearby ash tree. “Up there,” he murmured.
Stealthily he began to climb the trunk, trying to stay out of sight of the nest until he could look down on it from above. A moment later he realized that Jessy was following him, leaving her catch at the bottom of the tree.
Soon Bramblestar reached a branch from where he could see into the nest. A mother rook was sitting there; at the sight of Bramblestar she half rose, revealing a small clutch of pale blue, brown-speckled eggs. As she settled again, her berry-bright eyes still fixed on him, Bramblestar slid out his claws, intent on more fresh-kill.
“No, leave her!” Jessy protested. “She’s about to be a mother. You’d be killing her chicks as well!” Then she paused and gave her chest fur a few embarrassed licks. “Okay, I’m talking like a kittypet,” she admitted.
“No, we’ll leave her,” Bramblestar meowed. As they turned to climb down the tree, he added mischievously, “We’ll come back when the chicks have hatched.”
Jessy swiped at him, her claws sheathed, before leaping to the ground.
Spiderleg, waiting at the bottom of the tree, looked unimpressed. “Are we going home, or what?” he grumbled.
When the patrol arrived back at the tunnel, Frankie and Minty hurried forward to admire Jessy’s rook. Bramblestar looked around for Squirrelflight, to report to her about the badger traces, but before he spotted her Bumblestripe sprang up from where he was sitting beside the mudpile and raced over to him.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” the young warrior meowed. “I need to talk to you about Dovewing.”
Anxiety sprang up inside Bramblestar. “Is something wrong?”
Bumblestripe shifted his paws uncomfortably. “Follow me,” he mewed.
At Bramblestar’s nod, he led the way along the tunnel and past the nests, into the shadows beyond.
“You haven’t been going down here, have you?” Bramblestar asked, astonishment and fear making his heart thud. “You know the tunnels are dangerous!”
“I know,” Bumblestripe assured him. “But Dovewing’s safe. You just need to see this.”
Unpleasant memories of the drain and Benny’s body filled Bramblestar’s mind as he followed Bumblestripe into the narrow, dripping darkness. For all his efforts to concentrate, he kept bumping into the walls. His pads grew numb from the cold, damp floor and every hair on his pelt longed to turn and head back to the light.
Then Bramblestar heard a faint meowing coming from somewhere ahead. “What’s that?” he asked sharply, halting.
“Shh!” Bumblestripe whispered. “Listen!”
“Hello! Hello!” The sound came echoing up the tunnel.
Now Bramblestar recognized the voice. “It’s Dovewing! Is she lost?” he gasped.
“No,” Bumblestripe replied. “Come on.”
Bramblestar followed him, creeping forward until they came to a place where three tunnels met. A thin shaft of light pierced the darkness from a crack in the roof. Peering over Bumblestripe’s shoulder, Bramblestar could see Dovewing standing with her back toward them. Clearly she had no idea they were there.