“All I can sm ell is pinesap,” Twigpaw growled. “Besides, Crowfrost would never let m e roam the forest. I could hear warriors outside the den all last night. He’s keeping m e under guard.”
Violetpaw blinked at her apologetically. “I know it’s not nice for you to be held here. But let’s make the best of it.”
Paw steps pattered outside. “Grassheart say s ThunderClan cats can clim b trees,” Whorlkit mewed.
“She told me that if kits m isbehave, they throw them in the lake.” There was a tremor in Flowerkit’s mew.
Whorlkit snorted. “Don’t be frog-brained! You’re too old to believe nursery tales. We’re going to be apprentices in less than a moon.”
“What if she sm ells funny?” Flowerkit fretted.
“Hold y our breath.” The entrance rustled as Whorlkit barged in. “We’ve come to see y ou.”
He blinked at Twigpaw. “Is that okay?”
“I guess.” Twigpaw stared uncertainly at the gray -and-white tom.
A pair of eyes blinked in the gap behind him. “Is she there?” Flowerkit squeaked.
“Of course she’s here!” Whorlkit rolled his eyes. “Where else would she be?”
A silver she-kit crept in. Her eyes widened as she saw Twigpaw. “You look like a norm al cat today!”
“What did you think I’d look like?” She glared at Flowerkit.
Flowerkit looked thoughtful. “Last night, in the moonlight, you looked like a fox.”
Violetpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Your head is full of fluff!”
“It’s not!” Flowerkit retorted. “Scorchfur and Ratscar say all ThunderClan cats are just foxes in cat pelts.”
Twigpaw flicked her tail irritably. “Scorchfur and Ratscar are a pair of old gossips.”
Flowerkit spluttered with am usem ent. “Can I tell them you said that?”
“No!” Alarm spiked through Twigpaw’s pelt.
Whorlkit was still staring at her. “Is it true that y ou’re special?”
Twigpaw exchanged glances with her sister. She hadn’t thought about being special for ages.
She’d been too busy try ing to be the best Clan cat she could be.
When Twigpaw didn’t answer, Violetpaw answered for her. “Only StarClan knows if we’re special or not, and they’re not telling.” She trotted to the den entrance and peeked out. “What are y ou doing here, any way?”
“We’re bored,” Whorlkit complained.
“Grassheart spends all her time with Snakekit,” Flowerkit mewed sadly.
“She’s sick,” Whorlkit told Twigpaw.
Flowerkit shifted her paws. “I hope she gets better in time for our nam ing cerem ony,” she whim pered.
Twigpaw felt a sudden wave of sy m pathy for the two kits. “Would you like us to play with y ou?” she suggested. “We could teach you som e hunting m oves.”
Whorlkit’s eyes brightened. “That’d be great.”
Twigpaw crouched, starting to show him a stalking position, but Whorlkit blinked at her.
“There’s not enough space here. We’ll have to go outside,” he mewed.
“Outside?” Twigpaw stared at him, her heart lurching.
“Good idea!” Violetpaw nudged her toward the entrance. “Come on, Twigpaw. Let’s go outside.”
Reluctantly, Twigpaw let Violetpaw nose her out of the den. Flowerkit and Whorlkit pushed past them and raced into the clearing.
Twigpaw hesitated at the edge. Early m orning light broke through the thick canopy, splashing puddles of sunshine over the camp.
Tawny pelt stood at the head of the clearing. ShadowClan warriors paced restlessly around her while Tigerheart listened intently a few tail-lengths away. “Snowbird and Pinenose have both come down with the sickness,” Tawny pelt told them. “There’s not enough room in the medicine den, so Crowfrost is helping to m ove them all to the warriors’ den.”
“We’ve noticed,” Stonewing grum bled.
Tawny pelt ignored him. “Until they’re well, you can make y our nests in the elders’ den.”
“Oh, great.” Strikestone rolled his eyes. “We’ll never be able to sleep! Ratscar snores like a badger.”
“You’ll have to try.” Tawny pelt sounded impatient. “You’ll each have to make two hunting trips today. Tigerheart, can you m entor Lionpaw until Snowbird is well again?”
Tigerheart nodded. “I’ll take her hunting with m e.”
“Good.” Tawny pelt turned to Scorchfur. “Can you concentrate y our training on hunting too? I want the fresh-kill pile well-stocked.” She glanced at the shriveled m ouse and lim p thrush left over from yesterday’s hunt, then blinked at Dawnpelt. “Will you take Violetpaw hunting?”
“I prom ised that she could spend the m orning with her sister,” Dawnpelt told her.
Tawny pelt’s gaze flitted toward Twigpaw. She looked relieved. “Our visitor is finally out of her den.” Twigpaw blinked with surprise as Tawny pelt dipped her head in greeting. “Help y ourself to prey if y ou’re hungry,” she called across the clearing.
“Th-thank y ou.” Twigpaw stam m ered.
Violetpaw brushed against her. “I told y ou. ShadowClan isn’t as bad as ThunderClan say s.”
As she spoke, Mistcloud and Rippletail barged past her, knocking the kits out of the way as they swaggered across the clearing.
“Hey!” Whorlkit shouted after them indignantly. “Watch out!”
The warriors ignored him.
“You’re late for the m orning m eeting,” Tawny pelt snapped.
“So?” Rippletail flicked his tail.
“I need every cat out hunting today,” Tawny pelt told him.
Mistcloud puffed out her pelt. “But we spent yesterday hunting. Can’t we patrol borders instead?”
“Borders will have to wait,” Tawny pelt told her. “We have too many sick cats to worry about.”
Rippletail stopped in front of her and rubbed his nose with a paw. “Sick cats don’t eat. Why do we need to catch so much prey?”
Mistcloud mewed in agreem ent. “We only need to catch half as much prey as—”
A y elp cut her short. At the fresh-kill pile, Birchpaw and Lionpaw were tugging the thrush between them, snarling at each other, their jaws tightly clam ped into the bird’s flesh.
Tawny pelt growled at them. “Can’t you just share it?”
Birchpaw threw her a look of disdain and y anked the thrush from his denmate.
Lionpaw glared at him as he carried the bird away.
Twigpaw leaned closer to her sister. “In ThunderClan, apprentices aren’t allowed to eat until they’ve caught prey for their Clan.”
Violetpaw shrugged. “It’s just leftovers from last night.”
Twigpaw’s pelt pricked with surprise. She knew ShadowClan wasn’t ThunderClan, but she’d assum ed they all followed the sam e warrior code.
As Twigpaw wondered how two Clans could be so different, Lionpaw hissed at her brother.
With a growl she raced after him and leaped onto his back. Knocking the thrush from his paws, she began pum m eling him with her hind legs.
“Her claws are unsheathed!” Twigpaw stared in shock as she saw Birchpaw’s fur fly. He struggled to free him self, y owling in pain. Twigpaw turned to the older cats, waiting for one to race across the clearing and separate the fighting cats.
Mistcloud sat down and began washing her belly.
Tawny pelt went on with her orders as though nothing was happening. “Tigerheart.” She nodded to the dark tabby tom. “Hunt around the ditches. There are bound to be m ouse nests around there.”
Twigpaw couldn’t stay quiet. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”
Birchpaw had twisted free and turned on his sister. Slam m ing his paws onto her shoulders, he held her chin to the earth while he raked his claws along her flank. She wailed with pain.
Scorchfur m et Twigpaw’s gaze coolly. “They started it,” he meowed. “Let them finish it.”