Dark River

“We have to be ready,” Honeypaw argued. “Who knows what WindClan will do next?”

Lionpaw backed away from the two cats, his heart pounding. Had RiverClan really stolen the kits? There was another way off the moor, one their Clanmates didn’t know about.

What if the kits had found the tunnels?

He jumped as a voice sounded behind him. “You should eat,” Spiderleg was stretching, flexing his muscles. “You must be ready for battle at any moment.”

“But WindClan is fighting RiverClan, not us!”

“Anything could happen,” Spiderleg growled. “RiverClan might chase WindClan off the moor. They might decide to accuse us of taking the kits instead. Leafpool told Firestar that WindClan is desperate enough to do anything.”

Lionpaw froze. I must find the kits! I must stop this! But what about his Clan? He ought to be thinking about defending them. He should be helping fortify the camp like Cloudtail and Cinderpaw, or joining a patrol to check the border. He couldn’t go off and search for kits. What if WindClan attacked while he was gone?

This battle will be a chance to prove yourself a true warrior! Tigerstar’s voice murmured in his ear. The kits mean nothing! Think of your Clan.

But I am thinking of my Clan! Lionpaw shook his head, clearing Tigerstar’s voice from his mind. Cats would be injured.

Some might die! He shuddered as he thought of Heatherpaw caught in the midst of the fighting. If the kits were only lost in the tunnels, the battle would be over nothing.

“Lionpaw!” Brambleclaw was padding toward him. “Get something to eat and help with the preparations. Firestar’s organizing extra patrols and the barrier needs to be strengthened.”

Lionpaw blinked at the ThunderClan deputy. His belly was churning. “I’m not hungry.”

Brambleclaw shifted his paws. “Are you scared?”

Lionpaw opened his mouth, searching for the words to explain.

“It’s natural.” Brambleclaw’s mew softened. “I used to worry about seeing my Clanmates wounded. But defending the Clan is part of the warrior code; it’s what we’ve all trained for. I know it’s tough but we’re doing the right thing in the eyes of StarClan.” He ran his tail along Lionpaw’s flank. “You have the makings of a great warrior, Lionpaw, and I’m proud of you. Just remember what you’ve been taught and stay sharp.”

“Do we really need to fight?”

“If your leader tells you to, then yes,” Brambleclaw murmured. “Firestar won’t lead any cat into battle unless he believes it’s the right thing to do.”

But Firestar doesn’t know everything. Lionpaw suddenly felt weary. If only he didn’t know about the tunnels. Then he could just do as he was ordered without question. Miserably, he nodded at Brambleclaw. “Okay.” He padded to the fresh-kill pile, sick at the sight of the prey piled there as though it were any ordinary day.

“Why can’t we fight?” Icekit’s small mew wailed across the clearing.

“I don’t want to wait here until WindClan come and shred us!” Foxkit hissed.

“You’d only get in the way,” Ferncloud told them sternly.

She swept her tail over them, shooing them back toward the nursery. “The best way you can help is to hide inside your den till the danger is passed. Your time for fighting will come, but not this moon.”

Lionpaw watched Ferncloud nudge them through the nursery entrance. It wasn’t just Foxkit and Icekit who were in danger. He couldn’t possibly put his Clanmates at risk, not when there was something he could do about it. Narrowing his eyes against the rain, he veered away from the fresh-kill pile and headed past the medicine den. Slipping in among the dripping brambles he pushed his way through to the camp wall. He reached up to the first ledge and scrambled onto it.

Ledge by ledge, he clawed his way to the top of the hollow, panting with the effort as he hauled himself over the top.

Crouching in the rain-soaked grass, he caught his breath and peeped over at the busy camp below. No one had seen him leave. His Clanmates were still busy pressing twigs into the thorn barrier, gathering in groups to plan patrols, their wet pelts bristling with excitement. He crept into the trees and began to run down the slope, heading toward the tunnel entrance.

Suddenly, voices sounded from behind a clump of ferns.

Lionpaw squeezed between the dripping stems and peered out.

“Try to pick the juiciest leaves,” Jaypaw was advising.

Hollypaw sat beside him, stripping leaves from a small plant and piling them on the wet earth.

Jaypaw lifted his nose and sniffed. “Lionpaw?”

Lionpaw straightened and pushed his way out, shaking the drops from his pelt.

“What are you doing here?” Hollypaw’s green eyes flashed with surprise. “Do we have to go back to camp?”

Lionpaw shook his head. “I think I know where the kits are,” he blurted out.