There likely won't be an update next week due to holidays! Enjoy your Thanksgiving, or whatever you celebrate!

Chapter 7

Mistyfoot opened her eyes, feeling hot and exhausted.

Another nightmare, she thought blearily, forcing herself to groom out her tangled fur. Since the Gathering a quarter moon ago her dreams had been filled with uncertainty – from the earth churning to mud beneath her paws to the forest turning into a barren wasteland before her eyes, devoid of life and trees. Mistyfoot's nose twitched. She couldn't seem to get the sharp smell of the decimation out of her nose.

She hoped the dreams had nothing to do with Mosspaw's ominous message. But the fact that Mosspaw had appeared to Stoneheart to deliver the same message made Mistyfoot doubt that they were nothing. It had to be connected.

Mistyfoot got to her paws. No use worrying over an empty stomach. She pushed her way out of the warrior's den and into the wall of heat that awaited her. The sun had barely crested the treeline and the cicadas were already screaming. Mistyfoot's ears twitched in annoyance.

Should I tell Brackenfur about my dreams? She wondered as she padded over to the fresh-kill pile. It felt woefully low despite the season. This heatwave was starting to drive prey to seek what coolness they could in the shelter of their dens. She looked over her options – a shrew and an old vole – as she pondered. I don't think he'd believe me. I'm just a warrior.

But Mosspaw came to me, and came to Stoneheart, too. There's no harm in figuring out whether it means something. If the meeting with Stoneheart tonight bore any fruit, then Mistyfoot figured she would tell Brackenfur about it. If I don't get my ears chewed off for meeting another Clan's warrior, that is.

It did worry her, bending the warrior code for this meeting. But, Mistyfoot figured, Tinystar had bent and broken the warrior code on hunches before. He was Clan leader now, and one of the greatest heroes of the forest – there was definitely something to be gained in following a hunch.

"Mistyfoot, are you going to stare at the pile all morning?" Sandstorm's sharp voice cut through Mistyfoot's thoughts, making her jump. The pale ginger she-cat was sitting in the shade of the Highrock with Tinystar and Dustpelt. "How about you come over here and get your day's assignment – then you can wonder whether the sun will cook your prey for you."

Embarrassed, Mistyfoot padded over to the deputy. It was still strange waking up and taking orders from Sandstorm – Oakheart had been deputy for almost Mistyfoot's entire life. She still couldn't believe he was sunning himself outside the elder's den now that his wounds were all but healed, lazily sharing tongues with Frostfur about the good old days.

Dustpelt gave her a sharp look as Mistyfoot approached. It wasn't full of malice – just Dustpelt's regular irritation with everything that was not meeting his exact specifications – but Mistyfoot couldn't help but feel like there was a little there.

"What did you want me to do?" Mistyfoot asked, focusing instead on Sandstorm and not the father of her dead apprentice.

"I was wondering if you'd like to lead a patrol near ShadowClan," Sandstorm meowed.

Mistyfoot's ears pricked. "Why?" she asked.

Sandstorm frowned, and it was Tinystar who spoke up: "ShadowClan has been silent about the drought's affect on them. Russetstar is a proud cat but I wonder if she isn't hiding something. This heat is just as likely to dry out ShadowClan's marshes as it did WindClan's streams – she might get ideas to cross into RiverClan territory."

Mistyfoot frowned. "I don't think ShadowClan would do that, though – isn't the possible threat here WindClan? They've already stolen prey from us."

"Tallstar vowed not to let that happen again, though! He's our friend!" insisted a smaller voice.

All four warriors turned their eyes to the small black tom huddled in the deepest shadows of the Highrock. With all their eyes on him, Nightpaw blinked in embarrassment and closed his jaws.

Dustpelt rolled his eyes. "Get out here, Nightpaw. You might as well join the discussion since you were so eager to listen." His tone was dripping with annoyance at his apprentice.

Nightpaw padded over to the group, eyes flashing apologetically at his parents and his mentor. He sat down beside Dustpelt, curling his tail over his paws. "My point still stands," he mumbled.

"It's a fair one," Dustpelt agreed, "but Tallstar clearly had no idea what his apprentices were up to – it's just as likely he has no idea what his warriors are doing, either. He's getting old."

"All cats are likely to get desperate with this heat wave lasting so long; it's driving off prey," Sandstorm pointed out. "All the more reason to be cautious of every Clan – at least until rain comes."

Inwardly, Mistyfoot was glad that ThunderClan held Sunningrocks, which bordered the river. There would be water for ThunderClan for a while yet, even if all their streams were nothing but mud.

Tinystar heaved a sigh. "Very well," he decided. "Mistyfoot – take Dustpelt and Nightpaw with you and look in on the RiverClan and WindClan situation. Sandstorm, find a patrol to head along the ShadowClan side – make sure they check the Thunderpath tunnel, and that they mark it. That's still our territory."

Sandstorm nodded.

Tinystar's eyes rested on Mistyfoot, and she felt unsettled looking down at her leader. "Good luck," he meowed.

I can't tell what he's thinking, she thought worriedly. Her first apprentice ended in disaster, and now this? Is he testing me?

Mistyfoot twitched her whiskers. She and Nightpaw were devouring a vole – sighted and caught by Nightpaw – before the patrol moved on. They were close to the RiverClan border now, and Dustpelt, who had refused the meal, was keeping watch for RiverClan patrols while Mistyfoot and Nightpaw quickly devoured the fresh-kill.

"Why did you eavesdrop?" Mistyfoot asked quietly, feeling the sun heat her shoulders.

Nightpaw swallowed a bit of meat, his ice-blue eyes flashing. "Just because I'm an apprentice or Tinystar's son doesn't mean I like being kept out of things."

"Shoving yourself into important conversations isn't a great way to earn respect," Mistyfoot pointed out.

Nightpaw frowned.

"Hurry up, you two!" hissed Dustpelt.

Mistyfoot's pelt prickled. She quickly licked her muzzle clean of vole while Nightpaw buried the remains of his catch in the leaf-litter. The two padded up to join Dustpelt where he stood.

They could see the river between the trees, and hear its trickle as it ran through the forest. Reeds brushed against one another quietly. Mistyfoot looked out over the water and scented the faint fishy tang of RiverClan.

"What do you smell?" Dustpelt asked, looking down at Nightpaw.

Nightpaw's tail curled. "Aside from vole? RiverClan – with a hint of WindClan."

Mistyfoot sniffed again. Did he inherit Cloudtail's nose somehow? She wondered. On a second sniff Mistyfoot could smell the very faint, heathery scent of WindClan. RiverClan's scent was a much more pungent, oily odor.

"Good," Dustpelt praised. "WindClan's patrol ought to be gone by now."

Mistyfoot took that as her cue to lead the patrol down the slope and towards the border. This was the first patrol she had led since Shrewpaw's death, and she didn't want to take too many chances to screw this up too. She kept them a tail-length from the border and let Dustpelt renew the markings as they went.

"That's odd," Nightpaw remarked. "Why is the WindClan scent still strong? You said they'd be gone, Dustpelt."

Mistyfoot opened her jaws to scent the air. "He's right," she mewed, looking back at Dustpelt. "WindClan's scent is still very strong around here."

"In our territory?" Dustpelt's ears flattened with frustration. "StarClan save me from flea-brained warriors!"

A rustle in the ferns ahead made Mistyfoot's tail lash, giving the order to duck in pawspeak. The three cats flattened their bellies to the earth as three WindClan warriors blundered out of the ferns, clearly heading for their border and paying little mind to who might be watching.

"They have prey," hissed Nightpaw, his eyes wide.

Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes and spotted it – a water vole, dangling from the mouth of a nearly-black apprentice…

It's him again! She thought. The apprentice that stole that rabbit before the last Gathering! Frustration pricked her pelt. Didn't Tallstar tell him off?

"Halt!" called Dustpelt, rising to his full height.

The WindClan cats stiffened, and then turned. Mistyfoot, as she stood, recognized Mudclaw, WindClan's deputy – but what made her heart sink more was seeing Onewhisker among the patrol. Onewhisker had been a good friend to both Tinystar and ThunderClan for seasons. Why is he, of all cats, stealing prey?

"Didn't you think we might catch you again?" Dustpelt growled, prowling forward, "Seeing as how you weren't so stealthy last time?"

Mistyfoot flicked her tail as she padded ahead, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the senior warrior. Nightpaw bounded up on Dustpelt's other side. Nightpaw curled his lip at the WindClan apprentice, who lashed his long, thin tail. We're evenly matched, down to the apprentices, Mistyfoot thought.

"It's none of your business, bramble-brain," hissed Mudclaw.

Onewhisker's whiskers twitched. "It-It's not what you think," he meowed quickly. "It's RiverClan's vole, not ThunderClan's."

Mistyfoot frowned. "That doesn't stop this from being stealing," she retorted. "Not to mention trespassing."

Around his vole, the black apprentice hissed, "RiverClan doesn't even eat voles."

Nightpaw's shoulders bristled. "Neither does WindClan!" he snapped back.

"Hush, Crowpaw," snapped Onewhisker. His eyes narrowed down at the gray-black apprentice. Crowpaw lashed his tail again in response.

"And that doesn't matter, anyway," Nightpaw went on. "This is still stealing, which is against the warrior code!" He frowned at Crowpaw. "Does WindClan not teach the warrior code to their apprentices? This is the second time he's been caught with stolen prey!"

Crowpaw let out a screech of fury and, before any cat could react, he dropped the vole and launched himself at Nightpaw. The two black toms went down into the undergrowth in a flurry of claws.

"Nightpaw!" snapped Dustpelt. "Stop this at once!"

Onewhisker snarled, "Are you bee-brained, Crowpaw?"

Panic shot through Mistyfoot. A badger roared in the depths of her ears. Nightpaw cowered in terror in her mind's eye as a black-and-white face bore down on him. Before she could really tell what was happening, Mistyfoot lunged forward and sank her teeth into Crowpaw's scruff.

She hauled him off of Nightpaw and threw him to the side, into a clump of bracken. Mistyfoot's tail bristled and she hissed at the apprentice as he pushed himself to his paws. Behind her, Nightpaw huddled, eyes wide.

Crowpaw hissed back, claws unsheathed. Mistyfoot sank her claws into the earth. If he thinks I'm going to watch an apprentice die—

"Enough!" Onewhisker snapped. The pale brown tom padded up to Crowpaw and cuffed him over the ear with a paw. Crowpaw flinched, his stance softening. "That's enough!"

"It certainly is," Dustpelt growled.

Mistyfoot did not relax her spine until Onewhisker had led Crowpaw back to Mudclaw. The WindClan deputy snapped something into Crowpaw's ear that made the dark gray tom look down at his paws.

Onewhisker turned to the ThunderClan cats. "Dustpelt, I'm so sorry-"

"Save it," Dustpelt snapped back. "This is between RiverClan and WindClan – but if you drag it through ThunderClan territory again, pretty words at a Gathering won't be Tinystar's only reprimand."

Onewhisker's eyes sparkled apologetically. His head hung low as he flicked his tail at his Clanmates. They gathered themselves up – Crowpaw spitefully grabbing the vole – and headed off towards the WindClan border.

Mistyfoot watched them go, panic and anger fading from her pelt. She could see ribs subtly poking through the WindClan cat's fur. The heat is affecting them more than Tallstar would admit. No wonder they're stealing, she thought. Her heart pricked with some sympathy. StarClan, why did I have to be right?

The rest of the day crawled by like a beetle. Mistyfoot had done her best to put the day's happenings behind her as she watched the sun set over the trees and witnessed the sky turn a moonless black. Stars dappled the night sky like a speckled pelt.

It was time.

Mistyfoot found it easy to sneak out of camp. She'd made sure to eat before sleeping, knowing that it could easily be used as an excuse to head for the dirtplace. There was a little patch of wall there that was weaker than the rest, where a cat could squeeze through.

Thankfully the humidity made her pelt stick to her body – she left no trace but scent, which no cat was like to care for in the dirtplace.

As she padded towards Fourtrees, setting her paws off of ThunderClan's usual trails, she thought of the meeting ahead. Her heart thumped in her ears. Meeting with Stoneheart was bad enough, but what if there really was something horrible about to happen to the Clans? Her dreams had not stopped, and Mosspaw's voice echoed her prophetic words as the whole world seemed to end.

Mistyfoot bounded over a fallen log. Who are the other cats? She wondered. Would they even come? Are there even other cats? Her mind was a whirl of speculation.

Fourtrees loomed just ahead. Mistyfoot opened her jaws, but could not scent any other cat there from this distance. She ducked under some low-hanging ferns and plunged into the hollow, finding it empty of cats.

Panic made her heart flutter. Stoneheart wasn't here. Was he even coming? Did he decide his sister was foolish, and their dreams just that, dreams?

A twig snapped behind her.

Mistyfoot whirled around, claws unsheathed. "Who's there?" she snapped. "Show yourself!"

Immediately her mind began to spin out excuses. I just wanted to walk, she thought, the heat was getting to me so I thought I'd stretch my legs – no harm! Not meeting cats from other Clans here, no way…

A cat emerged from the undergrowth, their fur so black it was as if the night had stepped out to meet her. For a moment Mistyfoot stared at the small dark shape and swallowed, knowing deep down it had to be Tinystar – but she spotted their white nose and blinked in surprise.

"Nightpaw?"