The Forgotten Warrior

On the other side of the thicket Ivypool spotted a dark hole between a couple of rocks, almost hidden behind trailing ferns. The smell of fox was very strong.

“There’s the den,” Birchfall pointed out with a flick of his tail.

“But the smell is stale,” Ivypool added, eager to show off her scenting skills. “I don’t think the fox is there now.”

Birchfall nodded. “Right. So let’s find some dung and get out of here before it comes back.”

Gagging on the stench, Ivypool tracked down a pile of fox dung near the opening of the den. She picked up a stick and rolled one end in the dung until she had coated it thoroughly.

“Great StarClan, that stinks!” Birchfall exclaimed. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You’ll be glad to have the marigold if you’re wounded,” Ivypool told him through her teeth.

Birchfall rolled his eyes. “And there isn’t an easier way?”

Ignoring his question, Ivypool hefted the stick in her jaws and headed back toward the ThunderClan border. To her relief, the feeling of being watched faded as soon as she was safely back in her own territory.

I wonder if it was the fox, watching us. But then, why didn’t it attack?

The stick was awkward to carry, but taking it in turns Ivypool and Birchfall managed to transport it back to the clearing above the camp where the marigold plants grew. Ivypool traced a circle around the damaged clumps, daubing the dungy end in the grass.

“That should keep the rabbits away,” Birchfall meowed with satisfaction.

Dropping the stick, Ivypool felt a brief claw-scratch of worry. “I hope we did the right thing. What if other foxes smell fox scent here? Will they think this is their territory?”

Birchfall shrugged. “They’re mouse-brained if they do. But we’d better tell the patrols what we’ve done, or they’ll be bringing back reports of fox invasion.”

Ivypool nodded. “I’ll find Brambleclaw and tell him.” I hope this was a good idea, she thought, misgiving stabbing her like a thorn in her pad. We’ve just brought the scent of our worst enemy into the heart of our territory.

She headed for the trail back to the camp, with Birchfall just behind her. “Let’s go back the long way, by the stream on the WindClan border,” he suggested. “I want to wash the fox stink off my paws.”

On their way to the border, they pushed through clumps of cool green ferns, the fresh green tang beginning to mask the fox scent on their fur. Ivypool felt herself relaxing in the familiar surroundings. But heading down the slope toward the stream she failed to see a branch lying in the grass. As she tripped over it, pain stabbed her leg where she had been wounded in the training exercise the night before.

“Mouse dung!” she muttered, wincing.

“You’ll need to be quicker next time,” Birchfall commented; clearly he knew exactly how she had gotten her injury. “You should watch where you’re putting your paws. It would be a shame if you couldn’t fight anymore because of a stupid accident. You must know how tough the training is.”

Ivypool gave him a swift glance. “Yeah.”

Her pads prickled with the strangeness of sharing her nocturnal life with a Clanmate, especially when that Clanmate was her father. Birchfall must think I want to be part of Tigerstar’s plans, she thought uneasily. He doesn’t know that I’m spying for ThunderClan. And he can’t find out, she added to herself uncomfortably.

Ivypool knew that the Dark Forest cats meant to destroy the Clans. But she found it hard to believe that Birchfall and Blossomfall were enemies of ThunderClan. They must have been tricked. I know Birchfall only wants to do the best he can for his Clan. And yet she couldn’t entirely stifle her doubts, like a small worm of unease eating into her.

Trying to push her disturbing thoughts away, Ivypool reached the bank of the stream and stood beside Birchfall, gazing down into the water. “Do we really have to get down into there?” she asked.

“We could go back to camp stinking of fox,” Birchfall replied. “Not much of a choice, really.”

Reluctantly he slid down the bank until his paws splashed into the water. Ivypool followed, wading a little farther into the stream and flinching as the cold current flowed around her legs. She rubbed one paw against another to get rid of the clinging scent. Behind her, Ivypool could hear Birchfall splashing around. Suddenly the sounds stopped.

“Uh-oh,” Birchfall muttered. “We’ve been spotted.”