The Silent Thaw

Squirrelflight had only emerged from Bramblestar’s den for a few moments before dawn to assign the first patrol of the day. Bramblestar had called her back inside before she could organize the rest of the day’s duties. Since he’d lost a life, the ThunderClan leader preferred the quiet of his den, and he seemed to need Squirrelflight’s company more than a newborn kit. I can’t imagine losing a life, Bristlefrost thought. She guessed it would take a while to get over—the first time, at least.

Brightheart padded stiffly from the elders’ den. “Is any cat going to fix those holes?” She glanced ruefully at the gaps the young warriors had made in the walls of the honeysuckle den.

“Stemleaf and Spotfur are going to fetch bracken to fill them later,” Graystripe told her.

Bristlefrost blinked eagerly at the old she-cat. “The bracken will keep you warm until fresh honeysuckle grows in.” She felt sorry for the elders. They were too old to warm themselves up with a run through the forest.

“Good.” Brightheart turned away. As she padded back inside, the camp entrance shivered. The dawn patrol had returned.

Its leader, Thornclaw, stopped at the edge of the clearing. Hollytuft, Plumstone, and Eaglewing halted beside him, their eyes widening with surprise as they saw their Clanmates still in camp. “Haven’t the hunting patrols left yet?” Thornclaw eyed Lionblaze, puzzled.

Lionblaze shrugged. “We’re waiting for Squirrelflight.”

“I was looking forward to fresh prey when we got back.” Thornclaw glanced disapprovingly at the Highledge before padding to the fresh-kill pile. “Don’t expect much excitement when you go out,” he told Lionblaze as he picked up a shriveled mouse. “The forest is quiet today.” He carried to it to a patch of frost-scorched grass at the edge of the clearing, dropped it, and sat down. “But there are plenty of signs of prey on the WindClan border.” He blinked at the golden warrior. “It won’t take long to restock the fresh-kill pile.”

Lionblaze sniffed. “It should be full by now.”

“I’m not waiting any longer.” Mousewhisker got to his paws. He beckoned Baypaw with a flick of his tail. “Come on. We can’t sit around here all morning.” As he led his apprentice out of camp, Lilyheart hurried after him.

Cinderheart nodded to Finchpaw and Flamepaw. “We’ll go too,” she told them. “Border patrols will have to wait.”

As they padded out of camp, movement on the Highledge caught Bristlefrost’s eye. Squirrelflight slid out of Bramblestar’s den. She stood on the ledge and glanced down into the clearing, her gaze flicking toward the entrance as Finchpaw and Flamepaw filed out. “Are they going to train?” she called distractedly.

“Yes,” Lionblaze called up to her. “I can fetch them back if you want them on patrol.”

She shook her head. “No thanks.” She scrambled down the rock tumble. “Training is the best thing they can do.” She glanced around the clearing, as though focusing her thoughts.

Bristlefrost blinked at her eagerly, her pelt pricking with excitement as Bramblestar emerged from his den and made his way down the rock tumble to join Squirrelflight. The day could start properly now. She pricked her ears, wondering which patrol she would be assigned to.

“Lionblaze.” As Squirrelflight nodded to the golden warrior, Bramblestar’s gaze flitted curiously around camp. “Take Rosepetal, Bumblestripe, and Berrynose hunting.”

Bristlefrost watched Bramblestar. Since he’d lost a life, Bramblestar seemed to find the camp intriguing, as though it had changed. Every now and then he’d wander around the edges, and yesterday his nose had twitched, as though he’d been surprised by the smell of herbs, when he’d gone into the medicine den. She wondered if losing a life made a leader forget the life before, so that everything afterward seemed strange.

“Thornclaw says there are signs of prey on the WindClan border,” Lionblaze told Squirrelflight. “Should we hunt there?”

“Yes.” Squirrelflight gazed at the trees. “But be careful not to chase prey across the scent line. Now that we’ve finally worked out the borders, we don’t want to confuse them again.” She nodded to Cherryfall. “Take Poppyfrost, Sparkpelt, and Stormcloud and refresh the border markers.”

“The WindClan ones?” As Cherryfall blinked at Squirrelflight, Bramblestar padded closer to the fresh-kill pile.

“No. Start with SkyClan,” Squirrelflight told her. “They refreshed their markers yesterday, and I want to make sure that our scent line is as clear as—”

“Is the fresh-kill pile always so poorly stocked?” Bramblestar interrupted her. He poked at the damp shrew that was all that was left of yesterday’s prey.

Squirrelflight looked at him, her gaze gentle. “It’s early,” she mewed apologetically. “I haven’t had time to organize the hunting patrols. It’ll be well-stocked later.” She turned back to Cherryfall. “Try and catch some prey while you’re out. I’m afraid I’m a little behind—”