Starlight

Chapter 12

Fox!

Brambletuft lifted his head to taste the air more carefully. The scent clung to the bramble thicket beside him, strongest around a rough-edged tunnel that looked as if it had been made by slender bodies pushing regularly through it.

"It was here not long ago," he warned Brackenfur. "There might be a hole nearby."

They were leading a patrol to find landmarks for the boundaries of the new territory, and to put down the first scent markers. Rainwhisker was with them, and Dustpelt had come too, leaving Cloudpaw and Spiderpaw dragging thorns into place to block the camp entrance.

"We'll report it to Skystar," Brackenfur decided. "We need to be careful until we find out whether it lives here or was just passing through."

Brambletuft nodded. His fur tingled with excitement, all his doubts about the hollow forgotten now that it was daylight and the cats could see what a good place it made for a camp. He had been glad when Skystar chose him to patrol the new boundaries; every pawstep made the woods feel more like ThunderClan territory, and he deliberately brushed against brambles and tree trunks as he walked along, to leave a scent trail that was unmistakably theirs.

He let Brackenfur take the lead as they padded on. As they skirted a clump of hazel, Dustpelt stopped to sniff a low-hanging branch. He looked up, and his eyes were so full of concern that the other three went over to examine the scent as well. They looked apprehensively at each other as they scented Twolegs.

"At least it's stale," Brackenfur pointed out. "Days old, I'd say."

"But they come here." Dustpelt curled his lip. "If I never see another Twoleg, it'll be too soon."

Brambletuft took a deep breath to stop his heart pounding. He felt exactly the same way, but it would be a sign of weakness to show his fear in front of these warriors. This was their home now, and they couldn't live every day expecting to have it snatched away from them. He let his tail-tip rest briefly on the older warrior's shoulder. "This is the first scent we've picked up since leaving the hollow," he pointed out. "And we're a long way away from a Thunderpath. There won't be any monsters."

Dustpelt flicked his ears and padded on without speaking. The others followed, Brambletuft keeping to the back, half afraid the others would see the terror in his eyes as he tried to push away images of the forest crashing down around them.

"Let's hunt!" Brackenfur suggested.

"Good idea," Rainwhisker agreed. No cat mentioned that it would be a welcome diversion from thoughts of Twolegs and monsters, but they all concentrated on tracking prey as if they had been starving for a moon.

Brambletuft slowed down to drink in the mingled scent of squirrel and rabbit and birds. He jumped when he heard an alarm call, and saw that Rainwhisker had brought down a starling. Nodding appreciatively, he headed past the young warrior, farther into the forest, until he spotted a thrush pecking among the gnarled roots of a dead tree. Crouching low enough for his belly fur to brush the fallen leaves, he crept forward until he could pounce on it and dispatch it with a swift blow to the neck.

As he lowered his head to take a bite, a weight landed on his back and he felt claws digging into him. Instinctively he flung himself sideways and rolled over to dislodge his attacker. Scrambling away from slashing claws, he caught a glimpse of ginger fur and at first thought it was Brackenfur. Had his Clanmate gone mad? But when he scrabbled for a foothold and managed to spin around, he saw that he was facing a snarling ShadowClan warrior.

"Rowanclaw! What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" growled the ginger tom. "Defending the ShadowClan boundary, of course."