“Is it worth fishing today?” Pebblefoot called, crunching over the stones toward them.
Reedwhisker shook his head. “Not unless you want to chase minnows again. Oh, I meant to tell you that Hollowpaw and Rushpaw asked if they could do some battle training on their own today. They know their assessments are coming up and they wanted to practice the crouch-and-leap technique we taught them.”
Pebblefoot looked surprised. “I didn’t realize they were taking the assessments so seriously. I sometimes wonder if Rushpaw wants to go straight to the elders’ den when he reaches twelve moons. I’ve never met an apprentice who is so good at finding shortcuts to getting things done!”
Mistystar snorted. “Perhaps he’ll just be a very efficient warrior.” She headed back up the shore, and the two warriors fell in beside her. “We can’t keep waiting for the big fish to return,” she mewed quietly before they reached the camp. “And our territory isn’t big enough to provide enough land prey to support us all. We’ll have to think about expanding upstream.”
“It does seem like the only option,” Pebblefoot agreed. “Hunting patrols have already caught a few birds in the reeds just beyond the border. Do you think we should go even farther?”
Mistystar nodded. “I’ll take a patrol that way myself today. I don’t want to announce the expansion to the whole Clan yet, but every cat knows we are running out of food.”
“Would you like me to come too?” Reedwhisker offered.
“No, thank you. I want you to lead a patrol along the border with WindClan and renew those scent markers, just in case they’re still waiting for us to cross over again. And Pebblefoot, will you take a hunting patrol onto the marshes?” The senior warriors nodded.
Back in the clearing, Reedwhisker started selecting cats for his and Pebblefoot’s patrol while Mistystar looked around for warriors to accompany her upstream. She was just about to call out to Grasspelt when Mothwing approached. Mistystar felt her fur bristle. Why am I so hostile? Mothwing used to be my friend!
Mothwing’s blue eyes looked troubled. “Do you know where Hollowpaw and Rushpaw are?” she asked.
“They’re practicing for their assessment,” Mistystar told her.
“Are you sure? I heard them telling Mossypaw and Troutpaw that they had found something none of the warriors knew about, but they couldn’t say what it was because it was a big secret. Do you think they’re up to something?”
For a moment Mistystar longed to be able to talk openly to Mothwing, like they had done so many times before. I always thought we would lead our Clan together! But Mothwing had kept a bigger secret than anything the apprentices might be hiding, and Mistystar couldn’t see how they could find a way back to how things used to be. “They were probably just showing off,” she told Mothwing. “Don’t worry about them.” She sounded more dismissive than she had intended, and Mothwing shrank back as if she had been hit.
“I just thought I should let you know,” she mewed. She turned and walked away before Mistystar could say anything else.
Mistystar forced herself to concentrate on the upstream patrol. “Grasspelt! Could you come over here? Bring Icewing and Mintfur!”
The three warriors trotted over. They bristled with excitement when Mistystar told them that they would be exploring beyond the border.
“It makes sense, if we don’t have enough prey around the camp,” Grasspelt meowed.
“Do you want us to set border marks?” asked Icewing.
“Not yet,” mewed Mistystar. “I don’t know how far we’ll get today. We’re just looking for hunting possibilities at the moment.”
They left the clearing and picked their way down to the edge of the narrow stream. As Duskfur had said, the shore was muddy and slippery from the recent rain, and Mistystar felt her paws sink deeper with every step. The cats clung to the bank and scrambled through the long grass until they emerged from the trees that enclosed RiverClan’s territory. Just beneath their feet, the stream was swollen and fast-flowing, impossible to fish in even if the cats wanted to. Mistystar clawed her way along the steep slope, keeping her head below the top of the bank. Her fur was soon slicked with reddish-brown mud, and her paws kept slipping. Behind her, Icewing fared better because she was more lightly built and seemed able to leap between patches of less sodden grass. Her denmate Grasspelt plodded grimly along at the rear, cursing under his breath every time he lost his footing.
At last Mistystar’s pads were so clogged with wet soil that she couldn’t keep a grip on the bank any longer. She scrambled up to the top and peered over the edge. Huge expanses of flat land, rippling with dark green grass, stretched away on both sides of the stream. Feeling very exposed under the vast gray sky, Mistystar reared up on her hind legs and peered over the stems. The stretch of grass ended at a row of cloud-colored Twoleg dens, three of them side by side with dark-leaved plants growing up the walls. As Mistystar stared, she spotted a flash of movement beside one of the dens, a blur of gray-brown fur.
“Kittypets!” growled Grasspelt beside her. “Two of them, by the looks of it.”
A second shape had joined the other; then both vanished around the side of the den.
“If there are other cats around, there might be less prey for us out here,” Icewing warned. Her fur stood on end, and she was clearly uncomfortable about being so far outside their territory in such an open, unprotected place.
Mistystar lifted her muzzle and sniffed the air. “I can’t smell any trace of them,” she commented. “Wouldn’t kittypets be too lazy to come all the way over here if they have enough slop to eat from their Twolegs?”
“Probably,” grunted Grasspelt. He started nosing through the grass, his ears pricking. “This way!” he whispered over his shoulder.
Mistystar and Icewing tracked him along the edge of the grass to a bramble thicket that hung over the bank of the stream. Grasspelt slowed down as they approached the brambles, lowering his belly until it almost hung on the ground, before he plunged forward with both front paws outstretched. The air was split with squeals; Mistystar and Icewing raced up to see him looming over a nest of young, hairless mice. They dove in, killing the baby mice with swift, careful blows so as not to spoil the delicate bodies.
When everything was quiet, they stood back and looked down at the instant fresh-kill pile. “That was a good find,” Mistystar praised Grasspelt.
Her Clanmate shrugged. “It’s hardly enough to replace a lake full of fish.”
“But it’s a start,” mewed Icewing. She scooped up the mice, gathering the tails in her teeth. The others helped her, and they began to make their way back down the stream, holding their prey out of the mud as they struggled to keep their footing.
Back in the camp, their Clanmates fell hungrily on their catch. “Mice are almost as yummy as trout!” Podkit declared, munching a soft, pink ear.
There were enough mice for every cat to have half each. Mistystar watched her Clanmates eating and felt a surge of satisfaction. Perhaps hunting farther upstream would be the answer until the fish came back. She looked up at the sky, wondering if her warrior ancestors agreed. If Mothwing can’t hear you, could you send a sign to Willowshine instead?
She became aware of raised voices at the edge of the fresh-kill pile. “You can’t have another one, Mossypaw,” Reedwhisker was saying. “Hollowpaw and Rushpaw haven’t had theirs yet.”