“Hi, Squirrelflight!” Ashfur joined them before Squirrelflight could reply. The grey tomcat gestured to her with his tail. “Come sit by me.”
Squirrelflight padded to his side, noticing that his dark blue eyes gleamed as she joined him. Leafpool followed and gave her ear a quick lick. “Try not to worry,” she murmured. “Everything will be all right.” She gave Ashfur a friendly nod before padding over to sit with Cinderpelt beneath the Highledge.
Out of the corner of her eye, Squirrelflight saw Brambleclaw take a few steps towards her. The uncertain look in his eyes darkened when she settled down next to Ashfur, and he veered abruptly away to sit beside Brackenfur and Sorreltail. Squirrelflight’s fur tingled; she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or disappointment. As Firestar began to speak, she stared straight ahead, feeling Brambleclaw’s amber gaze burning into her fur.
“Cats of ThunderClan, three sunrises have passed since the battle with Mudclaw,” he meowed. “Two dead warriors still lie outside our camp. Now that we have rested, they must be returned to ShadowClan.”
A shiver passed through Squirrelflight’s pelt. She had discovered the stone hollow by falling into it when she and four other cats had first explored the forest; it was pure luck that the part of the cliff where she had slipped over had been too low for the fall to hurt her. But during the battle, two fleeing ShadowClan cats had hurtled over the precipice at its highest point and broken their necks in the clearing below.
“Do you think ShadowClan will want them?” Cloudtail meowed. “They were helping that traitor, Mudclaw, after all.”
“It’s not for us to decide another Clan’s loyalty to its warriors,” Firestar warned. “Mudclaw was no ordinary traitor. Even cats from other Clans believed he was the true leader of WindClan.”
Cloudtail twitched the tip of his tail, clearly dissatisfied, though Squirrelflight saw Brambleclaw nod as if he were thinking of Hawkfrost.
“The dead cats were ShadowClan’s warriors,” Firestar went on, “and their own Clanmates will want to honour them on their journey to StarClan. A patrol must take the bodies to the ShadowClan border.”
“I’ll go,” Thornclaw offered.
“Thank you.” Firestar dipped his head. “Brackenfur, will you go as well, and …”
He hesitated, his gaze travelling thoughtfully over his senior warriors. Squirrelflight realised this mission could be dangerous. Though only a few ShadowClan cats had been involved in the battle, their leader, Blackstar, might blame ThunderClan for the deaths of his warriors and use it as an excuse to attack.
“Dustpelt and Cloudtail,” Firestar decided. “Take the bodies to the border by the dead tree, then find a ShadowClan patrol and tell them what happened. But don’t look for trouble.” His gaze rested on Cloudtail for a moment, as if he were afraid the headstrong white warrior might say the wrong thing. “If ShadowClan seems hostile, get out of there fast.”
Thornclaw rose to his paws and beckoned the rest of the patrol with a sweep of his tail. Together they headed for the thorn tunnel. The bodies of the ShadowClan warriors lay just outside, hidden in a dense patch of brambles where they had been protected from foxes and other carrion eaters.
Firestar waited until the branches had stopped rustling behind the patrol before going on. “Last night Onewhisker should have travelled to the Moonpool to receive his nine lives and his name. But his leadership won’t be secure unless he is accepted by every one of his Clanmates. I’m going to lead a patrol to WindClan to check.”
“Surely that’s WindClan’s problem!” Mousefur protested. “ThunderClan warriors have already had their fur ripped off once helping Onewhisker. Haven’t we done enough?”
Squirrelflight, though she felt a twinge in her wounded side, couldn’t agree. “But if we risked our lives for Onewhisker,” she argued, “why not make certain it was worth the effort?”
Mousefur shot a glare at her, but Firestar waved his tail to stop the quarrel before it went any further.
Cinderpelt rose to her paws. “Whoever leads this patrol, it won’t be you, Firestar. You wrenched your shoulder in the battle, and you need to stay in the camp until it’s healed.”
Firestar’s neck fur bristled; then he relaxed and dipped his head to the medicine cat. “Very well, Cinderpelt.”
“I’ll lead the patrol.” That was Brambleclaw, springing to his paws.
“Thanks, Brambleclaw,” mewed Firestar. “You’d better not go on to WindClan territory, though. We must show that we respect their boundaries. Take the patrol along the border, and see if you can spot any of their cats.”
Brambleclaw nodded. “Don’t worry, Firestar. I’ll make sure no cat sets a paw over the border.”
Spiderleg, sitting on Ashfur’s other side from Squirrelflight, snorted. “Bossy furball,” he muttered. “Who does he think he is? Clan deputy?”
“Brambleclaw is a good warrior,” Ashfur mewed. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be deputy.”
“Except that ThunderClan already has a deputy,” Spiderleg pointed out.
“But Greystripe isn’t here,” Ashfur replied. “And sooner or later Firestar is going to have to decide how long he’s prepared to wait for him.”
A sharp thorn of grief stabbed Squirrelflight. Twolegs had captured the ThunderClan deputy just before the Clan fled their old forest home; Squirrelflight still remembered the shock of watching Greystripe being carried away inside the growling, mud-spattered Twoleg monster. No cat knew what had happened to him, yet Firestar refused to believe he was dead, or to appoint another deputy in his place.
Does Brambleclaw really want to be deputy? Squirrelflight wondered. She couldn’t help thinking just like Tigerstar, and remembering how far the murderous tabby had been prepared to go to achieve his ambition.
Firestar called her name, dragging her back to the hollow. “Squirrelflight, you can go with Brambleclaw to WindClan. You too, Ashfur and Rainwhisker.”
Squirrelflight pricked up her ears; a run through the woods would blast away these troubling memories. Ashfur was on his paws already, his tail bolt upright.
“Let’s go!” Squirrelflight meowed, bouncing over to Brambleclaw.
“Not yet,” Brambleclaw replied crushingly, his gaze sweeping over her and Ashfur as if he hardly knew them. “I want to hear the rest of the meeting.”
Glaring at him, Squirrelflight sat down again.
“We need hunting patrols too,” meowed Firestar. “Sandstorm, can you organise those?”
“Of course.” Sandstorm looked up from where she sat at the bottom of the cliff. “But there’s one thing I want to say before we end the meeting.” She paused, and Firestar gestured with his tail for her to continue. “ThunderClan has only one apprentice now. It’s hard to get all the duties done.”
Sorreltail’s brother, Sootfur, twitched his tail. “Yes, I’m fed up with fetching moss for bedding. It’s not a proper warrior’s job,” he complained. He hadn’t been a warrior for long, and obviously had hoped he’d finished with apprentice duties forever once Firestar had given him his new name.
“That’s too bad.” Firestar’s voice was firm as he stared at the young warrior. “You can’t expect one apprentice to do it all.”
“Whitepaw works her paws off,” put in Mousefur. “She deserves a bit of help.”
Whitepaw, the only remaining apprentice, ducked her head and scuffled her forepaws. Squirrelflight could see she hadn’t expected praise from the wiry brown elder, whose tongue was as sharp as her claws.
“I’ll help!” Birchkit bounced up excitedly. “I’m old enough to be an apprentice!”
“No, you’re not,” his mother, Ferncloud, told him gently. “Not for another moon.”
“I’m afraid your mother’s right, Birchkit,” meowed Firestar. “But don’t worry, your time will come. And there’ll still be plenty for you to do. Sandstorm, will you sort out the duties in the meantime so no cat does more than their fair share?”
The ginger she-cat dipped her head in agreement. “I will, and I’ll make sure Whitepaw has enough time to train with her mentor as well. That’s another thing,” she added. “With no apprentices to train, we aren’t practising our warrior skills as much as we used to. If there’s another battle, we could have problems.”
“There’s not going to be another battle,” Spiderleg meowed. “Mudclaw is dead, so where’s the threat?”
“Yeah, we’ve got enough to do,” Sootfur muttered.
“And Mudclaw is the only cat who ever caused trouble?” Mousefur asked scathingly, with a contemptuous twitch of her whiskers. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll know there’s always some kind of threat.”
“Exactly, Mousefur,” Firestar mewed. “The four Clans are drawing apart again, and sooner or later we’ll find that we have no choice but to fight. We need one cat to be responsible for keeping up our battle skills.”
Ashfur opened his jaws to volunteer, but before he could speak Brambleclaw cut in. “I can do that, Firestar.”
Squirrelflight’s fur prickled. The Clan deputy would normally do this kind of job; it looked as if Brambleclaw really was trying to take Greystripe’s place.
