by Erin Hunter
Bristlefrost watched him expectantly.
“It’s big,” he mewed quietly.
Spotfur stared across the hills. “I didn’t know there was so much land beyond Clan territory,” she breathed.
Needleclaw blinked. “Do you really think we’re going to find the Sisters in all that?”
“We have to,” Bristlefrost told her, determined to be hopeful. She remembered the huge she-cats who’d come to the Clans when she was an apprentice. “They’re our only chance of finding Bramblestar’s ghost again.”
Needleclaw swished her tail. “Where should we start?”
“Let’s head down that way.” Bristlefrost nodded toward a valley crowded with ferns. “There’s a Twoleg nest at the bottom. Pancakes might be there.”
Needleclaw stared at her sourly. “Rootspring’s in charge,” she mewed. “He decides where we go. I know you’re used to bossing your Clanmates around, but on this patrol, Rootspring is the leader.”
Bristlefrost blinked at her. “We each have a voice,” she snapped. “There’s no harm in any cat making a suggestion.” She tried to catch Rootspring’s eye, hoping he’d back her up, but he was gazing down the hill.
“Tree said Pancakes lives in a Twoleg nest in a valley beyond the Moonpool,” he mewed thoughtfully. “Bristlefrost might be right. That could be Pancakes’s Twoleg nest.”
Triumph sparked in Bristlefrost’s pelt as Needleclaw fluffed out her fur and stalked away. “Thanks for backing me up,” she murmured as Spotfur headed after the SkyClan warrior.
Rootspring’s pelt prickled self-consciously. “It might take a while to find the Sisters.” He avoided her gaze. “We should all try to get along.”
Okay. Bristlefrost followed him as he padded after the others. But only because she’s your littermate. Needleclaw could act like she’d swallowed a wasp if she liked. Bristlefrost was determined to enjoy this mission. She lifted her gaze to the horizon. They were going to find the Sisters, no matter where they’d wandered. For the first time since the battle, confidence pulsed in her paws. This was what she was meant to do. She was going to save Thunderclan and bring StarClan back.
Her paws ached by the time the sun dipped behind the horizon. Dusk had spread deep blue shadows across the hillside as she followed Rootspring and Needleclaw along a ridge and headed down into yet another valley. She’d lost count of the hills they’d climbed and the tiny Twoleg nests they’d stopped at, looking for Pancakes. They’d found three plump, pampered kittypets: One had been a queen, close to kitting, another a bad-tempered she-cat. The third was a tom, but he’d smelled different from the toms she knew, and he’d had the narrow forehead of a young ’paw. None of them had seen any strange, large she-cats traveling in a group past their nests, and none had heard of a kittypet named Pancakes.
Perhaps we’ve come the wrong way. Doubt tugged in Bristlefrost’s belly. She should have let Rootspring decide which route to take from the start. Why did I let him listen to me? He was walking beside Needleclaw now, as he’d done for most of the day. She was disappointed that they hadn’t had time to talk alone, but she thought it might be for the best. They’d agreed they could never be mates, hadn’t they? Perhaps it was easier not to get too close now.
“Mouse dung!” Spotfur’s mew was pained.
Bristlefrost’s heart quickened. Was she hurt? She turned back to help as the other she-cat stumbled to a halt and lifted her forepaw. “What happened?”
“It’s okay.” Spotfur lapped between her claws, then placed them gingerly onto the grass. “I didn’t see the dip.” She nodded toward a tiny hole where some creature must have burrowed.
Bristlefrost saw weariness in Spotfur’s eyes. “Rootspring!” she called out.
He turned, his eyes widening. “Are you two okay?”
“Spotfur hurt her paw,” Bristlefrost told him.
“It’s not bad,” Spotfur mewed quickly.
“Can we make camp soon? She’s getting tired,” Bristlefrost mewed, ignoring Spotfur’s denial. “And my pads hurt.” She hated to mention her own aching paws, but Spotfur needed rest. Who knew how many days’ walking they had ahead of them? There was no use wearing themselves out at the start.
Rootspring gazed around the valley. The grass ran down to a small Twoleg den, nestled among trees. A willow draped the hillside a few tree-lengths from where they stood. Rootspring nodded toward it. “We could make camp there.”
Needleclaw was already padding toward the willow. She nosed her way through the hanging leaves. “There’s space between the roots to make nests,” she called from inside.
Rootspring followed her, and Bristlefrost slid after him, Spotfur at her heels. Inside, branches shielded a small stretch of grass, hidden like a cave behind a waterfall. A sandy hollow opened among the roots of the tree, sheltered enough to defend. It would be easy to build nests here.
“This looks like a good place to sleep,” Rootspring mewed.
“I can hunt,” Bristlefrost offered.
Rootspring shook his head. “I’ll hunt with Needleclaw.” He looked down at his paws shyly. “We’ve been hunting together since we were kits. We kind of make a good team.”
Needleclaw whisked her tail. “We’ll be able to catch enough for every cat,” she mewed. “You and Spotfur can build the nests.”
Bristlefrost forced her fur not to ruffle. We’re not your apprentices.
“Or you could check out that Twoleg den,” Rootspring suggested. “Pancakes might be there.”
“Okay.” Bristlefrost dipped her head. She’d begun to lose hope of ever finding Pancakes. “But if we see prey, we’ll catch it,” she added. “Just in case you can’t find any.”
Needleclaw purred. “We’ll find some,” she mewed confidently, and pushed her way through the willow leaves.
“Good luck,” Rootspring called, following his littermate.
Bristlefrost ignored the pang of jealousy that tugged in her belly. She ducked under the branches and headed downhill, toward the Twoleg nest.
Spotfur caught up to her. “Wait for me.”
Bristlefrost was relieved to see that her Clanmate wasn’t limping. “Is your paw okay now?”
“I told you, it was nothing.”
“We should all be careful where we tread,” Bristlefrost told her. “We can’t risk getting hurt. We don’t have a medicine cat with us.”
“I guess.” Spotfur gazed ahead.
“It’s a shame we couldn’t hunt,” Bristlefrost mewed. “I bet there’s some great prey around here.” When Spotfur didn’t respond, she went on. “At least SkyClan cats like the same sort of prey we do. Imagine if Rootspring and Needleclaw were RiverClan cats. They’d bring back fish instead of mice. Or ShadowClan cats!” She pulled a face. “I’ve heard ShadowClan warriors eat frogs.”
Bristlefrost glanced at her Clanmate, hoping for a response. But Spotfur didn’t twitch a whisker. Squirrelflight’s words echoed in her mind. Spotfur needs a distraction from her grief. Perhaps she’d feel better if she remembered why they’d come. “If we find the Sisters, we might be able to get Bramblestar back soon.” When Spotfur didn’t answer, Bristlefrost pressed on. “Wouldn’t it be great if we found Pancakes here? He could tell us where the Sisters have gone and then—”
Spotfur cut her off. “Why don’t we stop talking and focus on finding him.”
Bristlefrost’s heart sank. Wasn’t there anything she could do to cheer her friend up? She padded on in silence. Maybe grief was something you couldn’t rush.
A stone wall peeked through a stretch of ferns. A Twoleg boundary. She signaled to Spotfur with a flick of her tail and ducked low, moving like a snake through the long grass to the foot of the wall. Spotfur hurried behind her, belly brushing the ground. They stopped and Bristlefrost tasted the air. Cat-scent was nearly hidden beneath the sweet scent of flowers, stronger than any she’d smelled beside the lake. She nodded at Spotfur and leaped silently onto the wall. Fur brushed stone as Spotfur jumped up beside her, and together
they scanned the stretch of smooth grass that ran around the Twoleg nest. Something rustled from the shadows at one side. Pancakes?
Hope flickering in her chest, Bristlefrost jumped down, landed on the soft lawn, and straightened. “Try to look friendly,” she whispered to Spotfur as she landed beside her.
“I know.” Spotfur shot her a look. “This is the fourth time we’ve done this.”
Bristlefrost’s pelt prickled self-consciously. “I’m just trying to be careful.” She led the way across the grass, keeping her pelt smooth and her ears pricked, as though she were greeting an old friend. “Hey,” she mewed as they neared the nest. The moon had risen behind the hills, and she narrowed her eyes against its glare as she peered into the shadows. Something moved there. She nodded for Spotfur to stop and spoke again. “We’re just passing through,” she meowed breezily. “We’re looking for some friends.”
She waited, her heart quickening as paws brushed the earth. She hoped it was a friendly kittypet. She was too tired for a fight. Bright, round eyes glittered from the darkness. Then a new scent touched her nose. Through the sharp fragrance of flowers, she smelled dog.
Her pelt spiked as a low growl sounded in the darkness. It must have disguised its scent by rolling in petals. She could see its outline now: a stocky dog, trembling with excitement.
The air seemed to split as it let out a howl. Bristlefrost pressed against Spotfur. “Run!” As she felt Spotfur turn, fear-scent pulsing from her pelt, she followed, racing across the grass so fast it blurred beneath her paws.
Barking exploded behind them. Heavy paws thumped the earth. Hot breath bathed her tail, and foul stench of crow-food almost made her gag. Spotfur streaked up the wall ahead of her, pausing only long enough to glance back at Bristlefrost before leaping down the other side. Bristlefrost jumped after her, praying that the dog couldn’t follow.
She followed Spotfur up the slope, relieved that Spotfur was heading away from the willow. If the dog found their trail, it might track them back to their temporary camp. She let out a shaky breath when she realized that the dog’s bark had not followed them over the wall. A Twoleg yelp made her turn, and she saw a figure in the moonlight, moving toward the dog and hooking it with a paw before hauling it inside the nest.
As Bristlefrost stood panting, her fur slowly flattening, Spotfur stalked back to her side. The gray-and-white she-cat was breathing heavily, her eyes sparking with fear. They stared at the Twoleg nest. Bristlefrost heard the grass swish farther up the slope and her heart lurched. Were there more dogs here? As she turned, she saw two kits racing toward her, their fluffy pelts pale in the moonlight.
The kits bundled to a halt in front of them and blinked with wide, excited eyes.
“Did you see Spike?” the larger kit asked.
“Did he scare you?” asked the other.
Both kits burst into purrs, as though the idea were hilarious.
Bristlefrost blinked at them. Why did these kits think dogs were funny? “He chased us!”
“He probably wanted to say hello,” the larger kit mewed.
“Spike loves cats,” the other kit told them. “We live with him.”
Bristlefrost flattened her ears, horrified. “Cats don’t live with dogs.”
“Why not?” Both kits stared at her.
Bristlefrost stared back without answering. These kits were weird.
Spotfur shook out her pelt. “Why does Spike smell like flowers?” she asked.
“Our Twolegs wash him,” the larger kit explained.
Bristlefrost shivered. Twolegs were even crueler to dogs than they were to cats. “Does a cat called Pancakes live around here?”
The kits looked at each other. “He used to,” the larger one mewed. “But he’s gone now.”
“We’re his kits,” the other told her. “I’m Bacon.”
“I’m Eggs.”
Bristlefrost tried to catch Spotfur’s eye. Those are the dumbest kittypet names yet. But Spotfur didn’t seem to find it amusing—she looked like she’d rather be curled in her nest.
“Do you want to play tag?” Bacon asked eagerly.
“No thanks,” Spotfur told him. “We’re looking for some friends.”
“We can be your friends,” Eggs told her.
“We’re looking for old friends,” Spotfur mewed wearily. “Not new ones.”
Eggs looked crestfallen.
Bristlefrost shot Spotfur a warning glance. These kits might know something useful. “I’m sure you’d make great friends,” she added. “But we can’t stay, I’m afraid. We’re on a mission—”
Spotfur’s tail flicked impatiently. “Have you ever seen any big, furry she-cats?”
The kits looked at each other thoughtfully.
“No,” Eggs mewed. “I don’t think so.”
Spotfur leaned closer. “What about toms?”
Bristlefrost watched as the kits frowned, clearly trying to remember. She tried prompting them. “They might have had funny names like Stone or Branch or—”
Bacon’s ears pricked. “Leaf!”
Bristlefrost’s heart leaped. Leaf sounded like the sort of name the Sisters would give to a kit.
Eggs’ fluffy tail shot up excitedly. “We know a tom called Leaf,” he mewed. “He stopped here and played tag with us once.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to play tag?” Bacon asked. “It’s really fun.”
“No thanks,” Bristlefrost told him.
Spotfur’s pelt was rippling along her spine. “Did this Leaf say where he came from or where he was going?”
“He said he’d left a group of cats that was heading toward the river to make their camp for the warm season,” Eggs replied.
“Which river?” Spotfur asked.
“He said it was that way.” Eggs nodded toward the fern-pelted hillside.
Bristlefrost could hardly keep her paws still. She couldn’t wait to get back to the willow and tell Rootspring. They’d been heading the right way after all. All they had to do now was find the river and follow it.
She just hoped they could persuade the Sisters to return to the lake. For the first time, a chilling thought flashed through her mind. What if the Sisters refused to come?
“Of course they’ll come,” Needleclaw mewed when Bristlefrost shared her fear. The black-and-white she-cat leaned back contentedly, pushing away the remnants of the mouse she’d been eating.
“Why should they?” Bristlefrost had hardly touched any of the prey Rootspring and Needleclaw had brought back. The idea that the Sisters might refuse to help made her belly tight with worry.
“We’ll persuade them.” Needleclaw half closed her eyes.
Rootspring tore a strip of flesh from a thrush and laid it on the ground in front of Bristlefrost. “Needleclaw always gets her way in the end,” he murmured, wryly. “If any cat can persuade the Sisters to come back, she can.” He nudged the strip closer. “You persuaded warriors from all different Clans to fight Ashfur,” he reminded her. “Between the two of you, you’ll make them see that it’s the right thing to do.”
Bristlefrost blinked at him. The moon had risen high above the willow, its light filtering like water between the leaves. Spotfur, who’d said she was too tired to eat, was already sleeping in the fern nest Bristlefrost had made for her. A mouse lay beside it, for when she woke up. “But they’ve got no reason to help Bramblestar,” she mewed. “Or us. After all, he wasn’t so kind to them when they last sought to settle near the lake, even though that was only temporary. If they’re still upset—”
“Eat.” Rootspring nudged the strip of flesh again. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow. We don’t know how far away this river is.”
“Or how long ago the Sisters passed through,” Needleclaw added.
“But we’ll find them.” Rootspring regarded them both with a determined gleam in his eyes. “And we’ll persuade them to come back with us.”
Bristlefrost wanted to believe him. She was touched that he was trying so h
ard to convince her that it would be okay. She searched his gaze. Did he believe it? His eyes shone. He seemed really excited. She took a bite of the flesh, her belly growling as it suddenly seemed to remember how hungry it was. She took another bite, swallowing it eagerly.
Rootspring purred and hooked the rest of the thrush closer. He’d been right about hunting well with Needleclaw. They’d brought back enough prey to feed a whole warriors’ den. There would be plenty left for the morning.
Needleclaw stretched. “I’m sleepy.”
“Some cat needs to guard the camp,” Rootspring mewed.
Bristlefrost swallowed her mouthful. “I can take the first shift.”
“Good.” Needleclaw yawned.
Bristlefrost glanced at Spotfur, wondering if she should take Spotfur’s shift too. The gray-and-white she-cat had seemed exhausted.
“I’ll sit with you,” Rootspring offered. “I’m not really tired.”
“Shouldn’t you sleep while you can?” Needleclaw got to her paws and padded to her nest, plucking at the ferns to soften them.
Rootspring didn’t answer. Instead he told her, “I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”
She glanced at him but didn’t argue, just wound herself into the nest and closed her eyes.
As Bristlefrost finished the thrush, she heard the black-and-white she-cat’s breathing deepen into sleep. She swallowed the last mouthful and licked her lips. “There’s no need for you to stay up,” she told Rootspring.
“I want to.” He got to his paws and padded out through the trailing willow branches.
Bristlefrost followed, her heart fluttering like a bird in her chest. She felt suddenly awkward. What would they talk about? Perhaps they shouldn’t talk at all. They’d agreed to be friends and nothing more. But it was hard to be just friends alone in the moonlight. Especially when being near Rootspring made her fur tingle like this. Perhaps she should wake Spotfur and ask her to change shifts.
Rootspring sat on the grass outside the willow den and gazed along the valley. Around him, ferns stirred in the breeze, swishing like the lake stirring pebbles against the shore. Bristlefrost sat down stiffly beside him. She’d wanted to be alone with him and now she was. But this wasn’t how she’d imagined it. She’d thought it would be wonderful. And yet he seemed suddenly like a stranger. How his pelt gleamed. How broad his head had grown. And his shoulders. She pressed back a shiver and tried to remember him as the gangly apprentice she’d rescued from the lake. Or the awkward young ’paw who’d once crossed the Thunderclan border to bring her prey.