“I’ve smelled it myself,” Bramblestar meowed. “And it’s way inside our borders, beyond the clearing where Twolegs bring their pelt-dens.”
“Then maybe you should strengthen your own scent marks,” Blackstar retorted with a sideways glance at Rowanclaw. “If you can’t be bothered to mark your borders, it’s not our fault if we stray across by a few paw steps.”
“A few paw steps?” Squirrelflight spat disbelievingly.
Bramblestar raised his tail to silence her. He could feel his own fur bristling, and all his instincts were telling him to leap at Blackstar and claw the smirk off his face. Firestar wouldn’t have started a fight, he reminded himself. He would have known what to say to keep things peaceful.
“We know what you’ve done,” he began. “What we don’t know is why. What reason—”
He broke off as Ratscar, a skinny, brown elder, took a step forward. “What right do you have to question our leader?” he snarled. “Take yourself back to your own territory.”
Bramblestar let out a hiss of anger, furious that a ShadowClan elder was trying to give him orders. Squirrelflight slid out her claws, and from behind him Bramblestar could hear low growls from Brackenfur and Cinderheart.
“Ratscar has one paw in the Dark Forest,” Squirrelflight muttered into his ear.
“And we decided to give those cats another chance to prove their loyalty, remember?” Bramblestar muttered back, forcing his fur to lie flat.
Meanwhile Rowanclaw had shouldered Ratscar back into the group of ShadowClan cats. “That’s enough!” the deputy snapped. To Bramblestar he added, “Maybe we should both agree to strengthen the scent marks along that stretch of the border. That way we can be sure that no cat will trespass accidentally.”
Bramblestar guessed that he wouldn’t get a full admission of guilt without unsheathing his claws. Reluctantly he nodded. “Very well,” he meowed. “But be sure of this: ThunderClan will keep a very close watch on the border from now on.”
“And so will ShadowClan,” Blackstar responded. “Now it’s time for you to go. Tawnypelt, escort them back to their own territory.”
“We don’t need an escort, thanks,” Bramblestar told him.
“No, we don’t,” Squirrelflight agreed, just loud enough to be heard. “Do you think we’d stay one heartbeat more than we have to on your maggot-ridden territory?”
“That’s enough!” Bramblestar hissed into her ear. Head and tail high, he turned and stalked out of the camp. Behind him he heard hostile snarls from the ShadowClan cats, and he took a deep breath to keep his fur flat and his claws sheathed.
But as he and his cats headed for the border, Bramblestar heard the pattering of paw steps behind him. He swung around, claws out, but the cat who was pursuing them was Littlecloud.
“Greetings, Bramblestar,” he panted as he halted beside the patrol. “How are Leafpool and Jayfeather?”
“They’re fine.” It was Squirrelflight who replied. “They work together really well, and—”
“Squirrelflight, that’s enough,” Bramblestar interrupted. “We have to go. There’s work to do back in camp.”
“But I was only—” Squirrelflight protested, then broke off when she caught Bramblestar’s eye. “Sorry, Littlecloud,” she added as she turned to follow Bramblestar and her Clanmates.
Littlecloud watched them go with a disappointed expression.
“What did you do that for?” Squirrelflight demanded, trotting to catch up to Bramblestar. “Medicine cats don’t take part in quarrels between the Clans. Littlecloud was asking a genuine question.”
“Yes, but we aren’t medicine cats,” Bramblestar pointed out. Part of him sympathized with Squirrelflight, but since the Great Battle, obeying the code that kept the warriors of each Clan separate had never seemed more important. We have to show that we can survive on our own. Being too friendly, too compassionate, is a sign of weakness to our enemies.
“We may be forced to fight ShadowClan to make them stay on their own side of the border,” he continued. “This isn’t the time to be gossiping with their medicine cat.”
“We can’t possibly start another battle now!” Squirrelflight protested.
Bramblestar halted, gazing into her eyes. “We might have to. ShadowClan might have been our ally when we faced the Dark Forest, but those cats are once again our rivals for every paw step of territory, every mouthful of prey. The Great Battle is over, but that doesn’t mean the Clans are at peace with one another.”
Chapter 4
By the time Bramblestar and his patrol returned to the hollow, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting unexpected heat for so early in newleaf. When Bramblestar pushed his way through the barrier of thorns, he saw that his Clanmates were basking in pools of sunlight, sharing tongues after completing the early patrols.
Most of the cats sprang to their paws as soon as they noticed the patrol had returned.
“What happened?” Poppyfrost called.
“Yes, what did those crow-food eaters have to say for themselves?” Thornclaw asked.
“And how are they coping after the Great Battle?” Cloudtail added.
Bramblestar didn’t reply until he had padded into the center of the clearing and the Clan had gathered around him. “There’s still a lot of damage inside their territory.” He answered Cloudtail’s question first. “But their camp looks more or less back to normal.”
“The ones we saw are terribly thin,” Brackenfur put in. “I’d guess prey’s not running too well for them.”
“Good,” Spiderleg meowed, while Cloudtail gave a satisfied lash of his tail.
Bramblestar felt a claw-scratch of uneasiness at his cats’ pleasure in the problems of a rival Clan.
“What about the trespassing?” Mousewhisker demanded. “What did Blackstar have to say for himself?”
“The ShadowClan cats insist that they crossed the border by accident,” Bramblestar told him. “They advised us to renew our scent markers.”
A chorus of indignation broke out. Whitewing’s voice rose above the clamor. “That’s mouse-brained! I renewed those scent markers myself yesterday!”
“We all know that,” Squirrelflight assured her. “And ShadowClan knows perfectly well that there’s nothing wrong with our scent markers. But they’ll never admit that they trespassed.”
“Then they need to be taught a lesson,” Thornclaw growled.
Several of his Clanmates caterwauled their agreement.
Bramblestar shook his head. “No cat will set paw over the border to attack ShadowClan,” he ordered, even though a prickling in his paws was urging him to disobey his own command. “Squirrelflight will organize extra patrols to refresh the markers, and that will make it clear to ShadowClan that we won’t tolerate any more invasions.”
Ignoring the mutters of protest, he turned away. On the other side of the hollow, the bramble screen that covered the entrance to the medicine cats’ den was swept aside. Jayfeather padded out, followed a heartbeat later by Briarlight, who dragged herself forward with her front paws, her useless back legs trailing behind her.
Bramblestar winced when he saw how frail the young she-cat looked. It was clear that she hadn’t fully recovered from the bout of greencough that every cat had expected would kill her. Her typical cheerfulness was muted, and she seemed to be using every scrap of her strength to keep her forepaws moving.
“Briarlight!” Cinderheart bounded across to her. “Come over here, into this patch of sunshine.”
The rest of the Clan huddled around her, the trouble with ShadowClan temporarily forgotten. Briarlight was popular; every cat admired her courage and was glad to see her leaving the medicine cats’ den after her long illness.