they could answer he padded away, stopping beside Speckletail. The pale tabby sat hunched outside the nursery with Poppydawn while their kits tumbled around them. The Clan’s youngest members seemed to be the only cats unmoved by the looming battle. If anything, they were noisier than ever.
“If I were fighting tomorrow,” Thistlekit declared, “I’d geta WindClan warrior like this.” He hooked up the shrew he’d been eating. “And shred it.” He tossed the half-eaten fresh-kill to the ground and pounced on it, claws unsheathed.
“Don’t play with your food,” Poppydawn scolded. “It’s disrespectful. That shrew died so that we may live.”
Thistlekit sat up, looking annoyed. “You just don’t want me to become a warrior! You want to make me stay a kit forever!”
Pinestar cuffed him playfully around the ear. “I doubt she’d be able to,” he purred.
Thistlekit looked up at the ThunderClan leader. “Can I come to the battle?”
Pinestar shook his head. “I need you to stay here and help defend the nursery.”
Thistlekit puffed out his chest. “No WindClan cat’ll make it past me.”
“I believe you.” Pinestar sounded calm.
As Bluepaw watched him reassure his Clanmates, she realized that all trace of the doubt she’d seen in him earlier was gone. He stood with his broad head high and his powerful shoulders stiff, as though already primed for battle.
She wondered how many lives he had left. Perhaps that’s what gave him confidence. Why did only leaders get to have nine lives? Wouldn’t it be more useful if StarClan granted every cat nine lives?
Moonflower padded from the fern tunnel, her yellow eyes glowing in the half-light. “You two should get to sleep early tonight.” She reached Bluepaw and Snowpaw and touchedeach in turn lightly with her muzzle. Bluepaw could smell fear on her pelt, but her mew was unchanged. “I haven’t seen your nests yet. Are they comfortable?”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more moss,” Snowpaw mewed. “The bracken keeps poking through.”
“I’ll get some from mine.” Moonflower padded quickly away toward the warriors’ den.
“Are you going to eat that?” Leopardpaw was eyeing Bluepaw’s mouse.
Bluepaw shook her head and tossed it over to the black apprentice.
“You might as well have mine, too,” Snowpaw added, flinging her shrew after.
Leopardpaw licked her lips. “If you insist,” she mewed. “I just hope the sound of your bellies rumbling doesn’t wake me up in the night.”
Bluepaw stood and stretched till her legs trembled. The wind was growing chillier, and it rippled right through her pelt. She nosed her way through the ferns into the shelter of the den and began to paw at her nest, trying to plump up the bracken so that it would keep out the cold.
Snowpaw followed her in. “Are you tired?”
Bluepaw shook her head. “I just don’t like waiting for tomorrow. I wish it was morning already.” She gave her paws a lick. The scent of the nursery was still on them, and she wished for a moment that she was safely back there with Moonflower and Poppydawn and the kits. She had never felt less ready to become a warrior. As she pushed the thought away andstraightened her shoulders, the ferns rustled and Moonflower slid into the den, moss tucked under her chin and dangling from her jaws.
She dropped half in Snowpaw’s nest and the other half in Bluepaw’s. Quietly she smoothed out each pile until both nests were soft with it.
Bluepaw watched her work, feeling hollow. “Moonflower?”
“What is it, my dear?”
“How many battles have you fought in?”
Moonflower thought for a moment. “Too many to count, though they were really just border fights—driving out intruders. This will be the first time I’ve ever been in an attack on another Clan’s territory.”
“Are you nervous?”
Snowpaw snorted. “Of course she’s not nervous! She’s a ThunderClan warrior.”
Moonflower licked Snowpaw affectionately between the
“If I were fighting tomorrow,” Thistlekit declared, “I’d geta WindClan warrior like this.” He hooked up the shrew he’d been eating. “And shred it.” He tossed the half-eaten fresh-kill to the ground and pounced on it, claws unsheathed.
“Don’t play with your food,” Poppydawn scolded. “It’s disrespectful. That shrew died so that we may live.”
Thistlekit sat up, looking annoyed. “You just don’t want me to become a warrior! You want to make me stay a kit forever!”
Pinestar cuffed him playfully around the ear. “I doubt she’d be able to,” he purred.
Thistlekit looked up at the ThunderClan leader. “Can I come to the battle?”
Pinestar shook his head. “I need you to stay here and help defend the nursery.”
Thistlekit puffed out his chest. “No WindClan cat’ll make it past me.”
“I believe you.” Pinestar sounded calm.
As Bluepaw watched him reassure his Clanmates, she realized that all trace of the doubt she’d seen in him earlier was gone. He stood with his broad head high and his powerful shoulders stiff, as though already primed for battle.
She wondered how many lives he had left. Perhaps that’s what gave him confidence. Why did only leaders get to have nine lives? Wouldn’t it be more useful if StarClan granted every cat nine lives?
Moonflower padded from the fern tunnel, her yellow eyes glowing in the half-light. “You two should get to sleep early tonight.” She reached Bluepaw and Snowpaw and touchedeach in turn lightly with her muzzle. Bluepaw could smell fear on her pelt, but her mew was unchanged. “I haven’t seen your nests yet. Are they comfortable?”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more moss,” Snowpaw mewed. “The bracken keeps poking through.”
“I’ll get some from mine.” Moonflower padded quickly away toward the warriors’ den.
“Are you going to eat that?” Leopardpaw was eyeing Bluepaw’s mouse.
Bluepaw shook her head and tossed it over to the black apprentice.
“You might as well have mine, too,” Snowpaw added, flinging her shrew after.
Leopardpaw licked her lips. “If you insist,” she mewed. “I just hope the sound of your bellies rumbling doesn’t wake me up in the night.”
Bluepaw stood and stretched till her legs trembled. The wind was growing chillier, and it rippled right through her pelt. She nosed her way through the ferns into the shelter of the den and began to paw at her nest, trying to plump up the bracken so that it would keep out the cold.
Snowpaw followed her in. “Are you tired?”
Bluepaw shook her head. “I just don’t like waiting for tomorrow. I wish it was morning already.” She gave her paws a lick. The scent of the nursery was still on them, and she wished for a moment that she was safely back there with Moonflower and Poppydawn and the kits. She had never felt less ready to become a warrior. As she pushed the thought away andstraightened her shoulders, the ferns rustled and Moonflower slid into the den, moss tucked under her chin and dangling from her jaws.
She dropped half in Snowpaw’s nest and the other half in Bluepaw’s. Quietly she smoothed out each pile until both nests were soft with it.
Bluepaw watched her work, feeling hollow. “Moonflower?”
“What is it, my dear?”
“How many battles have you fought in?”
Moonflower thought for a moment. “Too many to count, though they were really just border fights—driving out intruders. This will be the first time I’ve ever been in an attack on another Clan’s territory.”
“Are you nervous?”
Snowpaw snorted. “Of course she’s not nervous! She’s a ThunderClan warrior.”
Moonflower licked Snowpaw affectionately between the
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