Night Whispers

Dovepaw darted toward the tree trunk and began to climb. “I’ll get you!”

“Get down, both of you!” Lionblaze fluffed out his fur. “We can have fun after the hunt.”

Ivypaw leaped to the ground, landing easily. “Which way?” Her eyes shone.

Lionblaze’s paws pricked. She’s more confident.

“The pines,” Cinderheart suggested. “They’ll give us more shelter.”

Ivypaw scampered away. “I’ll race you, Dovepaw!” she called over her shoulder.

Dovepaw scrambled down from the trunk and sent up a flurry of snow as she chased after her sister. Lionblaze frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Cinderheart tipped her head toward him. “Did you want to hunt somewhere else?”

“That fox has been hanging around the pines,” he reminded her.

“Then we’d better keep up with them.” Cinderheart darted off, following the apprentices’ tracks.

Lionblaze pelted after her. They caught up to their apprentices as beech gave way to pine. The ShadowClan border was close enough to taste.

“Look!” Ivypaw was circling beneath a pine tree, her nose skimming the ground. “Fox prints?” She looked excitedly up at Lionblaze.

She’s observant. He hurried to inspect them. The snow framed perfect prints. “Fox,” he confirmed.

Dovepaw’s ears pricked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Let’s follow them,” Ivypaw suggested.

Cinderheart was already padding along the trail. Lionblaze slid ahead of her, ignoring her growl. He wasn’t going to risk her getting hurt just to save her pride. If they bumped into a fox, he was going to be the one to deal with it.

The fat paw prints trailed under a low, spreading elderberry bush. “Wait there,” he hissed over his shoulder. Slowly, nose twitching for fresh scents, he slithered below the branches. Under the bush the ground opened into a hole. The stench of fox seeped from the earth, thankfully stale.

“Should we fill it in?”

Cinderheart’s mew made Lionblaze jump.

“I thought I told you to stay back.”

She flashed him a look that challenged him to argue. He decided not to. “If we fill in this hole,” he reasoned, “the fox might just dig a new one closer to the camp.” He wriggled backward from under the bush and shook the snow from his pelt.

Cinderheart popped out after him.

Ivypaw was hopping from paw to paw. “Should we report back to Firestar?”

She’s still loyal. “When we’ve finished training,” Lionblaze decided. “The fox hasn’t bothered us yet; there’s no reason it’ll start now.”

“But keep your eyes open,” Cinderheart warned.

“And your ears.” Lionblaze looked pointedly at Dovepaw, frustrated to find her staring through the trees. What had happened to her concentration? “Go and hunt!”

She jerked around. “Now?”

“Why do you think we came here?”

Ivypaw was scratching at the snow, clearly keen to start. “Are we hunting together or alone?”

“Alone,” Cinderheart told her. “We’ll be able to assess you better.”

“Okay.” Ivypaw bounded past the elderberry, her silver-and-white pelt soon lost among the trees. Cinderheart hurried after her.

Lionblaze watched them go, frowning. Perhaps he should have suggested they hunt together so he could keep studying Ivypaw.

“Which way should I go?” Dovepaw asked.

“You’re the hunter,” Lionblaze meowed. “You decide.”

Dovepaw scanned the forest, ears stretched, nose twitching, then headed up a rise that ran along the ShadowClan border. Lionblaze hung back until she was out of sight before trailing her.

He paused near the crest and peered over. The snow was falling more heavily now, and he could hardly see Dovepaw through the flakes. But he could hear her paws crunching, and every time she sniffed for prey, she snuffled as though fighting back a sneeze. This was impossible hunting weather.

Dovepaw’s trail led around a wide swath of bramble, then straightened through a stand of slender maple. Her tracks were already covered with fresh snow. The tinier tracks of prey would be impossible to see or scent. Lionblaze caught sight of her through the trees, no more than a gray blur. But he saw her drop into a crouch. She must be stalking something. As silently as he could, praying the falling snow would deaden his paw steps, he crept closer.

His nose picked up the scent of squirrel. Dovepaw was tracking it over roots that were little more than bumps in the snow. Lionblaze glimpsed a bobbing tail as Dovepaw dived. Then she yowled in frustration as she tripped and tumbled forward. Snow clumps showered her from above as the squirrel fled into the safety of a tree.

“Bad luck.” Lionblaze caught up to her.

“Stupid bramble tripped me,” she grumbled. “I couldn’t see it under the snow.”

“These are hard conditions even for experienced warriors,” he comforted her. “And this is your first snow hunt.”

Dovepaw glanced up at the branches, narrowing her eyes. “Why don’t we hunt up there? That’s where the prey seems to be hiding.”

Lionblaze flexed his claws. He hated climbing, but she was right. “Okay.”