“No, it’s not that,” Ebonyclaw responded. “I wanted to talk to you about something else. Have you noticed that Shrewtooth hasn’t been himself recently?”
Leafstar blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought much at all about the young black tom. Apart from his excessive nervousness, he was quiet and he didn’t cause trouble, which made him easy to overlook when other cats were making more noise.
“I’m worried that he’s feeling left out,” Ebonyclaw went on. “He’s always been shy, but lately he hardly says anything. He never said a word at the last Gathering, and he never volunteers for patrols anymore. It’s as if he thinks that no cat will want to hunt with him.”
Leafstar’s neck fur had begun to stand up. It sounded as if Ebonyclaw was deliberately hunting for trouble. “If Shrewtooth has a problem,” she mewed, “then he ought to know he can come to me about it.”
“But what if he doesn’t know?” Ebonyclaw suggested. “You’ve been very busy with the visitors lately.”
Leafstar bristled even more at hearing the new warriors referred to as “visitors.” She didn’t like Ebonyclaw’s implication that she had neglected the existing members of her Clan in favor of Stick and his friends. Is it true? Have I really been unfair to Shrewtooth?
Leafstar had to admit that she hadn’t talked to Shrewtooth for a while, and she struggled to remember putting him on any patrols. He must have been fulfilling his warrior duties, or I would have heard about it from Sharpclaw.
“I have time for all my Clanmates,” she meowed to Ebonyclaw, keen to show that she was in control. “I’ll go hunting with Shrewtooth today, and give him the chance to speak to me in private.”
Ebonyclaw dipped her head. “Thank you.”
Once again Leafstar felt her fur rising. I shouldn’t need to be thanked for doing my duty as Clan leader! Forcing her fur to lie flat again, she tried to convince herself that she was being oversensitive, but she still felt unsettled when Ebonyclaw had gone and she went to look for Shrewtooth.
The black tom was crouched by himself at the edge of the stream, staring into the water. He jumped up as Leafstar approached, his claws skittering on the stones. “Uh… Leafstar…” he stammered.
“Hi, Shrewtooth,” Leafstar mewed, trying to sound casual. “I’m going hunting. Do you feel like coming with me?”
The black tom’s eyes widened. “Yes… yes, that would be great,” he choked.
“Good.” Leafstar couldn’t help thinking he looked as if he’d just been given a punishment. “It’ll give us a chance to catch up away from all the noise and bustle around here.”
Shrewtooth gave her a scared nod, as if she’d suggested they should go and fight foxes.
Leafstar’s paws felt clumsy and oversized as she led the way across the Rockpile and up one of the trails on the other side of the gorge. She was acutely aware of the young tom following her, and a thorn of guilt stabbed her as she wondered if he was actually afraid of her.
I’m his Clan leader! He should trust me, not act as if I’m going to claw his ears off!
At the top of the cliff, she headed for the deeper woodland on the border of their territory. Shrewtooth padded behind her, starting at every rustle in the undergrowth. When a blackbird shot out of the ferns just ahead, he jumped, then arched his back and dug his claws into the ground as if he was facing an enemy.
“It’s only a blackbird,” Leafstar mewed mildly.
“Sorry! I’m really sorry!” Shrewtooth looked so miserable that Leafstar wished she hadn’t spoken.
I just wanted to reassure him, not tell him off!
“It’s okay,” she muttered. “Let’s hunt.”
Shouldering her way through the bracken, she tasted the air and picked up the scent of a thrush. She glanced back at Shrewtooth and angled her ears toward the bird, which was pulling a worm out of the ground at the foot of an oak tree a couple of fox-lengths ahead.
At once Shrewtooth dropped into the hunter’s crouch and began to creep forward. Leafstar watched his action approvingly. He would be a good hunter if he weren’t so nervous.
But Shrewtooth had hardly moved when the thrush tugged the worm free and flew up with it onto a low branch of the oak tree. Shrewtooth turned to Leafstar, his eyes wide with distress, as if he expected a scolding for letting the prey escape.
“Not your fault,” Leafstar whispered. “We’ll catch it anyway. Work your way around the tree and climb up from the other side. Find yourself a branch just above the thrush.”
Shrewtooth nodded and slipped off. When he had gone, Leafstar slid through the bracken in the other direction until she could climb an ash tree whose branches mingled with the oak’s.
The thrush had swallowed the worm and was shifting from foot to foot on the branch. Leafstar spotted Shrewtooth’s face peering out from a clump of leaves just above. Cautiously she crept out along a branch until she could cross into the oak, this time below the thrush. When she was a tail-length away she rose to her paws and let out an earsplitting screech.
Now, Shrewtooth!
The black warrior was ready. As the thrush fluttered upward with a raucous alarm call, Shrewtooth swiped out a paw and snagged his claws in its feathers. He grabbed it by the neck in his jaws and scrambled out of the leaves, his eyes glowing with triumph.
“Well done!” Leafstar meowed.
She leaped down to the ground; a heartbeat later Shrewtooth landed beside her with a soft thud, his prey in his teeth.
“That was great!” he puffed, dropping the thrush at Leafstar’s paws. “Can we do it again?”
He was quivering with excitement now, not fear. He’s a different cat, Leafstar thought. “I certainly hope we can,” she replied. “Let’s just bury this, and we’ll see what else we can find.”
When she had scratched earth over the thrush, Leafstar padded on, relieved that Shrewtooth had boosted his confidence with a good catch. She tasted the scent markers as they crossed the border, but there was no scent of prey close by.
Where has everything gone? she wondered, flicking her tail in frustration as she headed deeper into the woods. Instead of the prey-scents she was hoping for, she picked up the taint of rotting crow-food and the smell of dog. Rounding a bramble thicket, she found herself in a clearing. At the opposite side was a broken-down Twoleg fence, with an untidy red-stone nest beyond.
I know this place! she realized, halting in shock. It’s where we rescued Petalnose and the kits from the Twoleg who kept her a prisoner.
The fur along her spine stood up as she remembered being part of the patrol led by Firestar: how Sharpclaw and Patchfoot had made such a racket fighting in the garden that the Twoleg had come out, leaving the door open for Leafdapple, Firestar, and Rainfur, Petalnose’s mate, to slip inside the den and bring out Petalnose with her kits.
Leafstar had never meant to come back here. It was a dark place, heavy with the memory of Twoleg cruelty. “Come on, Shrewtooth,” she meowed. “Let’s—”
She broke off when she turned and saw the young black tom crouched on the ground, his claws digging into the earth and his eyes tight shut. “Oh, no, no…” he whispered.
Puzzled, Leafstar touched her tail to the black warrior’s shoulder. “Shrewtooth? What’s the matter?”
The young tom stared up at her, his eyes stretched so wide with horror that she thought they might burst out of his head. “It’s a trap… a trap,” he moaned. “You brought me here… I knew you never wanted me in the Clan! But I’ll never go back!” he added fiercely. “Never!”
“Shrewtooth, I don’t know what you mean.” Leafstar spoke gently. She had never seen any cat as frightened as this, not even when Firestar had led them against the rats in the barn. “Of course I want you in SkyClan. I made you a warrior, didn’t I?”