Night Whispers

Squirrelflight unsheathed her claws. “We’re going to have to track her down and chase her out.”

“It might be better to wait,” Lionblaze reasoned. “The forest is harsh in leaf-bare. She may go elsewhere. Foxes prefer crow-food to fresh-kill when the hunting gets hard.” He suddenly looked up and stared straight at Dovepaw. “Join Brackenfur’s patrol,” he called across the clearing.

Dovepaw shifted her paws, aware that he’d guessed she’d been eavesdropping. “What about training?”

“Training can wait.” Lionblaze turned back to Spiderleg.

Toadstep and Hazeltail were already filing through the thorn tunnel after Brackenfur. Dovepaw raced to catch up to them. “Lionblaze told me to join you,” she mewed to Brackenfur.

“Good.” Brackenfur tasted the air. “The more claws the better. Hunting will be hard today. It’s too cold to smell a thing.”

“And your pelt’s going to stand out like a fox in a snowdrift.” Hazeltail circled him, frosty leaves crackling beneath her gray-and-white paws.

Brackenfur snorted. “You’d better go in front then.”

Hazeltail led the way up the slope, her pale fur no more than a smudge in the frost-whitened undergrowth. Dovepaw tagged on at the end. She pricked her ears, listening for Ivypaw.

“Wait!” Hazeltail halted at the crest of the slope. She dropped into a hunting crouch, her gaze fixed on the ground ahead. A blackbird was hopping over the frozen leaves. Dovepaw held her breath, while Brackenfur and Toadstep stood like stone. Hazeltail began to waggle her haunches.

Crack!

A twig snapped underneath Dovepaw’s foot. The blackbird fluttered away in panic.

“Sorry!” Dovepaw shrank into her pelt.

Brackenfur shrugged. “Twigs are more brittle in the frost.”

“Perhaps it’d be better if we split up,” Hazeltail suggested.

Brackenfur tipped his head. “What do you think?” he asked Toadstep.

“Sounds good,” the black-and-white tom agreed. “At least if we come back with nothing, we’ll have no one to blame but ourselves.”

Brackenfur nodded. “Okay, let’s separate.” He glanced around the patrol. “Anyone mind if I take the shore?”

Dovepaw shook her head. She was quite happy to stay in the shelter of the trees. “I’ll head toward the stream,” she mewed.

Hazeltail was already following the crest of the slope. “See you back in camp, then,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’ll try the edge of the moor,” Toadstep meowed. “There might be a stray rabbit.”

Brackenfur brushed against Dovepaw as he passed. “Will you be all right on your own?”

Dovepaw nodded. “I can practice my stalking.”

The russet warrior disappeared over the crest of the slope. Dovepaw headed deeper into the forest. She listened, reaching far through the trees, searching out Ivypaw. Then she stopped. Ivypaw had already told her to keep her whiskers out of her business. And why spy on her when she was awake? It was when Ivypaw slept that she needed looking out for.

Dovepaw wove between the trees until she heard the ripple of water ahead. Dovepaw padded to the edge of the stream and leaned down to drink. Ice cracked beneath her paws. She hopped backward in surprise. The still, shallow water had begun to freeze at the shore. There was a narrow strip of sand on the far side where she could reach unfrozen water more easily. Dovepaw leaped the channel and took a long drink. Water dripping from her chin, she tasted the air. There was no warm scent of prey, only the soft promise of snow. Snow was coming. Dovepaw pricked her ears, unnerved by the silence.

The loud cackle of a starling echoed in the stillness.

Prey!

Excited, Dovepaw headed toward the sound, picking her way between the trees as silently as she could. The starling called again, closer now. Dovepaw unsheathed her claws and scanned the branches above. She would climb if she had to.

A rustle in the bracken behind her made her turn. A starling in bracken? Unusual. She plunged in, tail lashing excitedly.

“Hey!”

A yowl of surprise set her pelt on end. Dovepaw felt fur beneath her feet. This was no starling. Bristling, she wriggled backward out of the bracken. “Who is it?” she mewed, her voice croaking with fear. She tasted the air.

ShadowClan!

The sour stench shocked her, and she tensed, ready to fight. What was ShadowClan doing on ThunderClan territory? The bracken rustled again, and Tigerheart popped out.

Dovepaw stared at him in astonishment. He was on ThunderClan territory! “How dare you come here?” she challenged, ignoring the excitement fizzing beneath her pelt.

“How dare I?” Tigerheart’s eyes were round. “What are you doing on ShadowClan territory?”

“ShadowClan territory?” She frowned. “But this is ThunderClan.” She glanced quickly around. Pines mingled with oak and beech. She tasted the air. ThunderClan scents mixed with ShadowClan. Where was the border? She sniffed again.

There! The border was behind Tigerheart.