Crowfeather's POV, peeps. Oh, and I accidentally called Spiderleg Spiderfoot back in Leafpool's chappie. Sorry- and thanks to shnitzenhimer and Brightfang for pointing it out!

There was fury in Webfoot's eyes as his patrol prowled back into the WindClan camp. Crowfeather, who had been sitting alone near the apprentices' den, watched in surprise as the dark gray tabby took a step into the camp and howled, "Onestar!"

Instantly the Clan leader appeared out of his den, padding across to his warriors, alert and curious. "What is it, Webfoot?"

"RiverClan!" snarled Webfoot. "We found their scents, so far inside our territory that there's no saying it's the wind! Not this time!"

Crowfeather remembered the previous Gathering, when Onestar had challenged Leopardstar about the faint scents they had found inside their borders. The RiverClan leader had blamed it on carrying winds, an excuse that had not satisfied many WindClan cats. Crowfeather had been too worried about Leafpool then to think much of it, but now his old, familiar Clan loyalty came bubbling back, and he jumped to his paws. "Where?" he growled, coming up to Onestar's side. "Where did you find the scents?"

Webfoot glanced at him. "Around the balanced rocks, near the border. It's clear they've been hunting there."

The balanced rocks was a place where an enormous slab of stone stood awkwardly on top of a much smaller, rounder one. It was near WindClan's border with RiverClan. The shade beneath the larger rock provided a good hiding place for prey, so it was a fine place for hunting. Clearly RiverClan thought so.

"And then," went on Webfoot, "When we took our patrol around to the other borders, we ran into Graystripe on his own patrol. Puddlefur told him what we'd found."

There was icy disapproval in his voice, as if he thought Puddlefur should be punished for this. Crowfeather's tail fur bristled as he looked at the small she-cat. After all the help that they'd had from ThunderClan during Mudclaw's betrayal, many WindClan cats thought that they shouldn't have anything to do with ThunderClan for a while. That rule would never hold for Crowfeather, though he agreed that his Clan would never look strong while they were leaning on Firestar and his warriors.

But Onestar- a great friend of Firestar's- didn't seem to think anything of it. He nodded blankly to Puddlefur, who looked questioningly at Moonfrost behind her, the last member of the patrol. The lithe white tom only blinked. Clearly he didn't think that she should have said anything to Graystripe, though he wasn't mutinous enough to say anything about it to Onestar.

The brown tabby leader was still thoughtful. "Crowfeather," he meowed finally, "I want you to take a patrol to the balanced rocks at dawn tomorrow. Cover all the RiverClan scent, and stay there a while- make sure that they don't come back. Then return to camp and report to me."

"Yes, Onestar." Crowfeather made sure to dip his head just as respectfully as he would have to Tallstar. He felt a prickle of pride at being chosen to head this important patrol. His claws sank out of their sheathes, into the ground below. He would show RiverClan they had no business in WindClan's land!

As soon as Onestar padded away, the warriors began to gather around him, each begging to go on the patrol. Crowfeather finally decided on Tornear, who was senior warrior after Ashfoot, Nettleclaw and Goldheart, furious fighters both, Nettleclaw's apprentice Thistlepaw, and Webfoot and his apprentice Weaselpaw. He was a little wary of bringing Webfoot, but he needed a cat from the original patrol, and the strong, battle-ready tom was the obvious choice.

Crowfeather lay down in his nest that night with fur tingling in anticipation of the next day. The warriors' den was under a huge bush, but the branches were wide and ragged, sparse enough for all the cats to see the stars through them. The apprentices', elders', and even Onestar's den was the same way. Only Barkface's den and the nursery were truly protected, for the cats of WindClan hated places that they couldn't see the sky from.

Why would any cat want to live in a place where they couldn't feel the breeze in their fur? wondered Crowfeather. That made him think of the Tribe of Rushing Water, and their closed cave. And Stormfur lived that way now. He must be a full prey-hunter now. Perhaps Brook was carrying his kits, as well.

Crowfeather abandoned trying to drop off, and instead rolled to his paws. He didn't need to sleep. His energy would carry him through the next day, and many moons of bad dreams had hardened himself against fatigue. He padded swiftly out of camp, into the moors. He made his way along the familiar path to the ThunderClan border, and as he went he willed silently that Leafpool was prowling the border herself. He was beginning to feel like he was never himself, unless he was with the ThunderClan she-cat.

&&&

Crowfeather's patrol neared the border. Webfoot hovered at the dark gray tom's shoulder, with Goldheart just behind. The two apprentices were behind her, and Tornear, alert and watchful, brought up the rear. Crowfeather had sent Nettleclaw to scout ahead, and the black tom was just returning.

"I can't imagine why RiverClan would bother with hunting at the balanced rocks," he growled, shaking his large paws. "They have to cross that bog to get there, and my claws got soaked just nearing the place. But there is fresh RiverClan scent. They might be there now."

Ignoring Gingerpaw's excited squeak, Crowfeather narrowed his eyes. "We'll have to chase them out," he meowed. "And it's best that we sneak up on them. Come on, and mind what your paws touch. We want to be quiet."

The WindClan patrol made their way silently towards the balanced rocks. Nettleclaw was right; as they neared the place, the usually dry, hard soil turned to squishy mud, and Crowfeather felt himself sinking into the ground with every pawstep. Still, tall plants had sprouted all over the place, and they provided ideal covering. Crowfeather's mind began to wander a bit as they went.

He had found Leafpool last night. Somehow she had already been there when he had arrived at the border. Neither of them understood how easily they managed to meet up; was it just from knowing each other so well, or did it truly have to do with StarClan?

She had wished him luck against RiverClan, and told him that Sunpaw and Graystripe had indeed carried the news back to ThunderClan. "But Firestar's not planning on doing anything about it," she had meowed. "He knows that we can't help WindClan with every little thing."

If only Onestar thought that way, Crowfeather thought. Then maybe he wouldn't have so much trouble with Webfoot and the others.

"Crowfeather." Goldheart touched his shoulder with her tail, murmuring his name softly, and pointed ahead. Crowfeather peered through the undergrowth to see the balanced rocks; their prey-rich ground well within WindClan borders. But it was crawling with RiverClan warriors.

At once anger and WindClan loyalty seized Crowfeather, and he exploded out of the grasses, twitching his ears at his patrol to do the same. He let out a yowl of defense, and the huge cat that stood on top of the larger of the balanced rocks turned around, his blue eyes widening.

It was Hawkfrost, and his eyes narrowed as he spied the WindClan patrol. He hissed. "Crawl back to the moors. This territory belongs to RiverClan now."

"And who ordered that?" Crowfeather spat back. "Not Onestar, for sure, and he's the only one I answer to."

"Oh, but you don't want to fight us," Hawkfrost meowed, and several of his warriors joined him atop the rock. Crowfeather watched it wobble slightly under the weight. "What if we do?" he snarled. "You won't win."

Hawkfrost leaped smoothly from the stone, dislodging it even further, and padded across to Crowfeather. He leaned forward, his whiskers almost brushing the WindClan cat's muzzle. When he spoke, only Crowfeather could make out the murmured words. "But I will. I have all the fury of my father inside me."

A blind, meaningless rage attacked Crowfeather then, and the next thing he knew he was in the middle of a battle.

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