Bluestar watched from the edge of the camp as Fireheart prepared to lead a hunting patrol consisting of Snowpaw, Whitestorm, Fernpaw, and Dustpelt out of the camp. The flame-pelted warrior meowed something to Whitestorm, Fernpaw, and Dustpelt before repeating what he'd said to Snowpaw through signals. He curled his tail until it was coiled tightly like a snake; perhaps he was saying that they would be hunting at Snakerocks. Then Fireheart tapped Snowpaw gently on both shoulders, which Bluestar understood to mean, Be careful.

She purred to herself as she watched her son lead the patrol out through the gorse tunnel. Fireheart had grown into a fine deputy, and she knew he would make a great leader one day. Perhaps he would even get to be a leader alongside Mistyfoot or Stonefur if one of them ever became RiverClan leader one day. They were both fine warriors; surely one of them was in the conversation to become the next Clan deputy.

In all likelihood, it was only a matter of time before they found out. Crookedstar was getting old, and Bluestar had heard rumors that her old friend's health wasn't what it used to be. It was hard to disagree with the rumors; after all, she had barely seen hide nor hair of him while they were staying in the RiverClan camp. Leopardfur had been the one to take care of her Clan while they were taking shelter from the fire.

Not that I can talk, really, she thought to herself in amusement. After all, I do have several grandchildren now.

She wouldn't have traded the family she had for anything in the world, but sometimes, Bluestar wondered how things would have turned out if she hadn't fallen in love with Oakheart or if she had fallen in love with him after she became ThunderClan's leader. Perhaps she would have gotten to spend a few more moons with Mistyfoot and Stonefur–maybe she wouldn't have had to give them up at all. Mosskit probably would have survived as well. She could have raised her kits in ThunderClan, where they should have grown up all along. Oakheart could have joined ThunderClan as well, or perhaps she would have let the Clan continue believing that Thrushpelt was their father.

But then again, if that had happened, she might never have become mates with Thrushpelt, which meant Fireheart wouldn't have been born. As much as it hurt to see Mistyfoot and Stonefur grow up in another Clan–and that wasn't even half as painful as passing by Mosskit's grave every time she had to patrol Sunningrocks–she couldn't imagine a life without Fireheart. He was her baby, her youngest–although, he hated being referred to as such.

A small thump at her side told Bluestar that she had company. She turned her head to see Squirrelkit sitting beside her, peering up at her with innocent green eyes almost exactly like her father's. Bluestar purred to herself; she could still remember seeing that look in Firekit's eyes when she caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Hello there," she greeted Squirrelkit. "Aren't you supposed to be back at the nursery?"

"I wanted to explore the camp," the fluffy ginger kit meowed. Bluestar purred.

"Not much to explore, I'm afraid," she meowed. "But don't worry, you'll be an apprentice soon enough, and then you'll have the entire forest to explore."

"Really?" Squirrelkit asked excitedly. Bluestar nodded. "Yay!"

The ThunderClan leader gave a small chuckle. "You know, you remind me a lot of your father," she murmured.

Squirrelkit tilted her head to the side. "Do you mean Fireheart?" she asked curiously. "He told us you're his mother. Are you really? You look a lot like Rainkit."

"I am," Bluestar confirmed.

"I like my dad," Squirrelkit announced. "He's funny. When I grow up, I want to have kits too so I can be just like him. And then later, I want to become our Clan deputy so I can be the leader one day. And I'll make Tawnykit be my deputy. Or maybe Bramblekit. Or Redkit or Rainkit. But not Spotkit because he wants to be a medicine cat. Do you think I would make a good leader? What do you think my warrior name will be?"

Bluestar chuckled. "I don't know what your warrior name will be yet, Squirrelkit. That won't be decided until several moons in the future."

"Oh." Squirrelkit looked a little disappointed. "But...do you think I would make a good leader?"

"I'm sure you would be just fine," Bluestar meowed gently.

Squirrelkit perked up immediately.

A little while later, Fireheart's patrol emerged through the gorse tunnel. They were each carrying a fair amount of prey, so the hunt had clearly been a success. Yet even from her vantage point, Bluestar could still see the tense, worried expression on her kit's face. He dropped off his load in the fresh-kill pile and meowed something to Whitestorm before turning and walking over in her direction. Squirrelkit let out a joyful yelp at seeing her father and bounded over to greet him, her tail sticking in the air with excitement.

"Hi, Dad!" she meowed happily.

"Hello, Squirrelkit," Fireheart meowed, giving his daughter a gentle lick between her ears. "I hope you weren't bothering Bluestar."

"It's alright, Fireheart," Bluestar meowed, getting to her paws and padding over to the two younger cats. "She's quite the entertaining little kit. She was just telling me about her plans to become our Clan's leader one day."

"Is that so?" the ginger tom asked, chuckling.

"Yep!" Squirrelkit chirped. "I'm going to become the best Clan leader in the whole forest!"

"I know you will be," Fireheart purred. His tone grew serious as he continued, "Squirrelkit, do you mind going back to the nursery for a bit? There's something I need to talk to Bluestar about."

"Okay," the fluffy ginger molly agreed, bounding off in the direction of the nursery. She paused for a moment and asked, "Will you play moss ball with me later?"

"Of course," Fireheart replied gently. Squirrelkit cheered and practically bounced the rest of the way to the nursery. He chuckled before turning to Bluestar again, his expression growing somber.

"Right," he meowed. "I'll just give it to you straight. We picked up the scent of a dog while we were hunting at Snakerocks today."

Bluestar tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure that's something we need to be concerned about?" she pointed out. "It's not uncommon for Twolegs to walk their dogs on our territory. They're annoying, but they're usually tied up."

However, her son merely shook his head. "I would believe that, but the entire place was reeking of dog," he meowed. "Even if the Twolegs were walking their dogs recently, it shouldn't have smelled that bad. It was a fresh scent as well, but we didn't pick up any Twoleg scent. I don't know if the dog stench was just masking it or if there really wasn't any at all, but either way, the smell was so awful, we decided to go to Fourtrees instead."

Bluestar frowned. "Did you see any dogs there? At Snakerocks, I mean."

"No," Fireheart admitted. "But we did find something else. Before we left for Fourtrees, Dustpelt found two dead pigeons. Both of them smelled of dog."

"I see," Bluestar murmured, half to herself. "Thank you, Fireheart. I'll make an announcement to the Clan later to let everyone know to be careful when they go that way. I hope there won't turn out to be any threat to ThunderClan, but we shouldn't get too comfortable."

Later that afternoon, Bluestar bounded on top of the Highrock and yowled, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting."

She watched as, slowly, her warriors rose from various spots around the camp and came to sit at the base of the Highrock. Fireheart sat down in the middle of the camp, with Sandstorm taking the spot beside him. Whitestorm and Willowpelt sat a few tail-lengths away, and Brindleface sat with her children, Fernpaw and Ashpaw. Snowpaw and Speckletail came next, and Bluestar assumed that the tabby queen would be translating the meeting for her kit.

"Earlier today, it was brought to my attention that a patrol picked up the scent of a dog at Snakerocks," Bluestar meowed once everyone had settled down. "So I need to know now, has anyone else picked up any dog scent anywhere else on our territory?"

For a few moments, her warriors glanced between themselves uncertainly. Then Cinderheart stood up, looking a bit nervous about speaking up in front of so many older warriors.

"I haven't scented any dogs anywhere," she meowed. "But I was out hunting earlier this morning, and I saw some Twolegs on our territory. They were shouting as if they were looking for something, but I don't think they ever found it."

Fireheart turned his head to her sharply. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"I forgot until now," Cinderheart answered sheepishly. Fireheart didn't look pleased, but he let the matter drop.

Bluestar pondered over the revelation in her mind for a few heartbeats. She didn't want to be too paranoid, but the fact that Cinderheart had stumbled across a group of Twolegs searching for something they had apparently lost on the same day that Fireheart's patrol had scented a dog at Snakerocks seemed too convenient to be entirely coincidental. It was clear that she had a lot more to worry about now. If this wasn't a coincidence, that meant there was a dog loose in their territory. Most dogs weren't a threat as long as they were tied up to their Twolegs, but Bluestar knew firsthand how dangerous they could be when they managed to free themselves. Thistleclaw had nearly gotten himself killed fighting a dog–incidentally, that was also the battle that earned him his warrior name.

"Very well," she meowed finally, shaking her head to clear away any thoughts of her old rival. "I hope this will all be cleared up soon, but in the meantime, we should be careful. Apprentices are not to go out alone, and if you decide to hunt at Snakerocks, make sure you have at least one other cat with you. And report to me or Fireheart if you see or smell anything suspicious. Meeting dismissed."

She jumped down from the Highrock as the Clan broke apart into groups, all of them whispering amongst themselves. All of them were clearly worried about the dog, and Bluestar couldn't blame them. It wasn't the first time a dog had gotten loose in their territory, but they had always been able to drive them off fairly quickly. But no one had seen this dog, and she certainly wasn't about to send a patrol to hunt it down. Snakerocks was dangerous enough as it was, but if there was a dog living there as well, they wouldn't be able to hunt there until it was either captured or decided to leave.

Bluestar headed back towards her den, pausing briefly to watch as Fireheart played a game of moss ball with Squirrelkit. The little ginger molly batted at the plaything happily, clearly delighted at being able to spend time with her father. She had always been the closest to him out of all her siblings. Chuckling to herself, Bluestar turned and walked the rest of the way to her den, suddenly in a much lighter mood than before.

No matter what dangers lurked outside the camp, it was nice to know that life inside the camp would continue on as normal–especially if it meant getting to watch Fireheart playing with his children.