Tallstar’s Revenge

“No.” Heatherstar stared at her warriors. “No one will cross the border,” she ordered. “They’re just trying to provoke us. We won’t fall for their tricks.”

“It’s no trick.” Cloudrunner lashed his tail. “It’s a warning. We need to show them we’re not afraid.”

“We can do that by carrying on as normal,” Heatherstar told him. “Same patrols, same scent markers. Let them waste their scent stinking up the border. So long as they don’t cross it, we won’t react.”

Talltail glanced at her uneasily. ShadowClan warriors didn’t make empty threats. His paws pricked with worry. They’d crossed the border before. Last time, they’d attacked the camp. What would stop them this time? But Talltail hadn’t been back long enough to question his leader’s wisdom. Besides, she might be right. Why rush into a battle that didn’t need to happen?

He turned and headed for the medicine den. “Hopkit?” He peered in.

Hopkit blinked from the shadows. “What’s happening?” His tail flicked restlessly as Barkface wound cobweb around his paw.

“Sit still,” Barkface ordered.

Hopkit growled. “But I heard Plumclaw say ShadowClan had crossed the border!”

“They’ve left scents on the brambles by Fourtrees,” Talltail told him.

“Is Heatherstar organizing a battle patrol?” Hopkit shuffled his hind paws beneath him.

“I said keep still!” Barkface grunted, frowning as he wound the web tighter.

Talltail nosed his way in. “No patrol. Not yet.”

Hopkit’s shoulders slumped. “I wish I were an apprentice,” he grumbled. “I’d teach ShadowClan to keep away from our borders!”

Barkface looked up at him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You won’t have four paws to attack them with if you don’t let me finish this dressing,” he warned.

Talltail nodded. “He’s right, Hopkit. Hold still. Your Clanmates need you fit and ready to fight.” He caught Barkface’s eye and held back a purr.

Hopkit sat up straight, quivering with effort. “Still as a stone, right you are!” he mewed. “Barkface, carry on!”

Talltail stretched across the width of his nest, then hopped out. He padded over the frosty grass, screwing up his eyes against the early beams of sunlight that flashed over the camp wall. Pigeonkit and Sorrelkit were already awake and chasing Palebird’s kits around Hunting Stones.

“Help!” Wrenkit squealed happily as Pigeonkit lunged for her. She scrambled through the crack between the rocks and escaped to the far side.

Palebird was curled beside a tussock, watching fondly, her pelt glowing in the early sunshine.

Where’s Hopkit? Talltail looked for the black pelt of the young tom, relieved to see he wasn’t playing with his denmates. He must be resting at last. Hopkit had insisted on practicing his battle moves every day since his injury, despite Barkface’s warnings. Only when Hawkheart had ordered him sternly to his nest on the threat of not being made an apprentice, ever, had the kit given up.

Doespring was standing at the entrance beside Hareflight. “Are you coming, Talltail?”

“Yes.” He began to cross the clearing.

In the sunrises since ShadowClan had drenched the bramble in their scent, Heatherstar had ordered extra border patrols. Reedfeather had already led Mistmouse, Appledawn, and Stagleap out before sunrise. Now Shrewclaw, Ryestalk, and Doespring were preparing to leave.

“Hopkit!”

Talltail halted as Meadowslip’s anxious mew drifted from the nursery.

“Hopkit! Can you hear me?” Heather crunched inside the gorse den. “You’re too hot. Can you make it outside? You need to cool down.”

There was no answer.

Talltail stiffened. “Go without me!” he called to Doespring. “I’ll join the next patrol.”

Doespring frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I want to check on Hopkit.”

Shrewclaw scowled. “Reedfeather told us Talltail was joining this patrol.”

Hareflight snorted. “Talltail makes his own rules.” There was bitterness in the warrior’s mew.

“Yes, the warrior code doesn’t apply to Talltail.” Shrewclaw barged through the entrance.

Talltail ignored him and headed for the nursery. “Meadowslip?” he called through the entrance.

“Come in!” Meadowslip’s mew was taut with fear.

Talltail pushed his way through the gorse. His nose wrinkled. The den stank of sickness. “Fetch Hawkheart,” he ordered. Meadowslip hesitated. “Now.”

She slid from the den. Talltail leaned into Hopkit’s nest. Heat pulsed from the young tom’s pelt. His eyes were half-open but glazed. “Hopkit?” Talltail thrust his muzzle closer, gagging as the putrid stink of pus bathed his tongue. He grabbed Hopkit’s scruff and hauled him from his nest. He’s burning up! He carried Hopkit out into the frosty air.

Hawkheart was hurrying past the Meeting Hollow, Meadowslip at his tail. He stopped as he caught sight of Hopkit. “Bring him to the medicine den.”

“He needs to cool down,” Talltail growled through clenched jaws.

“I can give him something for the fever.” Hawkheart led the way into his den, clearing away drying herbs to let Talltail lay the kit down on the smooth, sandy floor.

Meadowslip pushed in beside him. “What’s wrong?”