Chapter 1

The day was warm, sunlight shafts burning against Tinyclaw's black pelt. Heat clung to him uncomfortably, but he ignored it, crouching lower. To anything looking hard enough, his black pelt and bright blue eyes would stick out.

Beneath the cover a fern he crept, mouth watering. Not far ahead was a pigeon, pecking at the earth, unaware of its hunter. It was rotund and plump, and Tinyclaw's stomach almost growled aloud at the sight of it.

He flexed his claws. The long morning was finally over – leading the dawn patrol, and then hunting for the Clan until past sunhigh. The fresh-kill pile was stocked, but Tinyclaw wanted something fresh for himself, and this was the high season for prey. Even with little rain, this greenleaf had been bountiful. The Clan would eat well, and Tinyclaw had his eyes on his particular pigeon for himself.

Tinyclaw tensed himself to leap – but a second scent wafted over his nose, dropping him back onto his paws. Confused, Tinyclaw glanced at the bird – it seemed to have scented it as well, for its feathers fluffed. Before it opened its wings, however, a white streak sailed through the air and slammed down onto the poor creature. With a bite to the neck, Cloudpaw had killed the pigeon.

She looked down at the plump catch with satisfaction, head high. Tinyclaw slid out of the ferns, doing his best to hide a flash of irritation towards his apprentice. "Well-caught," he meowed evenly. "I didn't see you coming until it was too late."

Cloudpaw's whiskers twitched, and she chuckled, "This stupid bird didn't, either!"

Tinyclaw frowned. Cloudpaw was his apprentice, and his niece at that – it was his responsibility to teach her the ways of the Clan. It had seemed like she was starting to get it, but lately she had lapsed into her usual arrogance. It was getting irritating, wondering if she would ever understand the warrior code and what it meant to the cats that had lived here for generations.

It's not helping her get along with her Clanmates, that's for sure, Tinyclaw thought, suppressing a sigh. Cloudpaw had been born outside of the forest, as a kittypet – like Tinyclaw had before her. Tinyclaw knew from his own bitter experiences that it took a lot of work to get something other than resentment from the Clan cats – Cloudpaw needed to lose some of her arrogance if she was going to get any cat's respect.

"You were upwind," Tinyclaw told her, his voice tight. I've taught you this a hundred times! "If you hadn't been so quick, the bird would have been gone. Both it and I could scent you, Cloudpaw."

She rolled her eyes and grunted, "I know I was upwind!" She pressed a paw against the pigeon. "This dumb dove was too fat to go far before I could get it!"

Tinyclaw's shoulders tightened. "It's a pigeon, not a dove!" he hissed. "A true warrior shows more respect for the prey that feeds her Clan!"

She glared right into his eyes, dark blue against ice blue. "Yeah, right!" she scoffed. "Thornpaw showed so much respect for the squirrel he dragged back yesterday! He said it was so dopey, a kit could have caught it!"

Tinyclaw snapped, "That is Thornpaw – you are Cloudpaw; someone completely different! Just because Thornpaw does it, doesn't mean you should! You're both still apprentices, and you've both got a lot to learn – and here I thought you were learning quicker!"

Cloudpaw's tail fluffed, a big white cloud. "I caught it, didn't I?" she snapped. "Isn't that what matters?"

"There's more to being a warrior than catching pigeons!" Tinyclaw flashed.

"I'm faster than Thornpaw and stronger than Brightpaw, and I'm a better tracker than Swiftpaw!" she spat indignantly. "What more do you want from me?"

"None of that matters if you have no respect for the warrior code!" Tinyclaw growled. "You know a warrior never attacks with the wind behind them!"

"Big deal!" she growled. Her voice rose into an angry yowl: "You might have been waiting there like a slug, but I got the bird first, and that's what should matter!"

"Quiet!" Tinyclaw hissed. Cloudpaw's voice echoed through the trees. Tinyclaw tensed. The forest was too quiet, too still, too silent… anything could be lying in wait. He looked around, scenting the air. Though he smelled nothing, Tinyclaw's heart did not lessen its frantic beating.

Cloudpaw swallowed. "What is it?" she wondered, her tone quieter. "What are you worried about? I don't smell a thing."

"Nor do I," Tinyclaw admitted.

"Then what's the issue?"

"Bluefur," Tinyclaw said quietly. Bluefur had been banished for a quarter moon, but still she prowled through his dreams like a shadow. She had tried to kill Tigerstar, ThunderClan's leader, and Tinyclaw had placed a large target on his back for defending Tigerstar against her. She was banished, but that meant little to someone like her.

"She's gone," Cloudpaw soothed, though her tone was still sharp. "What would she ever want to do around here?"

"Rules mean nothing to a cat like her," Tinyclaw reminded Cloudpaw. The young cat still bore scars from the battle with Bluefur's rogues. "She made it clear that we hadn't seen the last of her."

"I'm not scared of her," Cloudpaw grumbled. "She's a traitor."

"You should be," Tinyclaw growled quietly. "She knows these woods as well as any warrior in ThunderClan, and she would kill you as much as look at you." Cloudpaw didn't know, didn't understand – Bluefur was vicious and ruthless. She had been Tinyclaw's mentor, and her training had been harsh, brutal, and Tinyclaw's memories of it were slow to fade, if he was ever able to forget.

Cloudpaw sighed. "You've been no fun since you were made deputy," she grumbled, rolling the pigeon about with one paw. "I don't want to hang around if all you're going to do is try to scare me. I'm meant to be hunting for the elders." She got to her paws and dashed away, leaving the lifeless pigeon alone in the dirt.

"Cloudpaw!" Tinyclaw called after her – but she didn't turn back. When her shape was gone from his side, Tinyclaw hissed, "Let Bluefur have her then!"

He looked down at the pigeon. Briefly, he wondered if he ought to carry it back – but he decided that a warrior ought to be responsible for their own fresh-kill. He hid the fat bird up against the roots of an oak and pressed grass around it, to save it from predators. Cloudpaw could come fetch it later, and she would go hungry until she did, Tinyclaw decided. Even in greenleaf, prey shouldn't go to waste.

Tinyclaw pricked his ears. The forest was still quiet, and standing here was scorching Tinyclaw's pelt with the harsh sunlight. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to go after Cloudpaw – but he knew it would do no good. She was too stubborn to listen, after a spat like that.

You tried to warn her! Tinyclaw could almost hear Graystripe's voice, as if he were right there next to him. Graystripe was gone, though – in RiverClan with his mate Silverstream and the kits that he could not leave fatherless. He and Tinyclaw had trained together as apprentices and done so much as warriors – but now that was all over. Graystripe had made his choice.

I can't think about that now, Tinyclaw thought, shaking the memories away. I'm deputy. The Clan needs me. Whether he had wanted it or not, there was no relinquishing the position now. There were patrols to organize, and hunting parties to send out before the day was done. There was no time to dwell on the past. Cloudpaw will just have to manage on her own.

The ground was dry underpaw as Tinyclaw made his way back to camp. The forest was still silent, but as Tinyclaw padded along the ravine that sheltered theThunderClan camp, he could hear the faint murmuring of his Clanmates. Down below he could see them, sharing tongues in the harsh sunlight. Ever since he had been young he'd dreamed of the forest, and now he was here, and it was where he belonged. He couldn't imagine living with Twolegs as a kittypet.

He bounded down the ravine and pushed his way through the camp entrance. ThunderClan's camp was well hidden by tangled gorse and brambles, kept safe by their thorns. Inside the camp was a nice clearing, littered with bushes that made up the Clan's dens and the Highrock, a large bit of the ravine that had tumbled down long ago.

Just inside, outside the nursery, Willowpelt was lying stretched out in the sun. Her belly was large with her kits – not her first litter, but she would stay in the nursery until they were old enough to do without her. Not far, Brindleface watched her two kits – Cloudpaw's littermates – scuffle in the dust. Cloudpaw had recently been made an apprentice and, watching those two made it clear that they were overdue for their names as well.

A murmur of voices caught his ear. Just below the Highrock, where Tigerstar lived and called meetings, a group of warriors were gathered. Whitestorm's snowy head was there, along with Dustpelt and Runningwind and several other warriors. As Tinyclaw drew closer, he could hear their conversation:

"Who's leading the patrol in the evening?" asked Dustpelt with a terse tone. He and his friend Sandstorm had trained with Tinyclaw as apprentices, and he had never lost his sharp tongue – in fact, it seemed to get sharper when Tinyclaw was around.

"Tinyclaw will decide when he comes back from hunting," Whitestorm soothed. As always, Whitestorm was unruffled by sharp tones.

"He should be back by now," Dustpelt complained.

"I am back," Tinyclaw grunted, shouldering his way through the crowd. His size made it difficult, especially when some of these cats were more than twice his size. He bumped into Cinderpelt before he was able to sit beside Whitestorm without complaint.

Dustpelt sighed. "So who will lead the evening patrol?" he wondered.

Tinyclaw frowned. He knew that Dustpelt disliked him for being chosen for deputy, thanks to his heritage. But that seemed to be all the hostility that the tabby warrior dared to throw – at least he wasn't Darkstripe, who had tried to kill Tinyclaw multiple times for his master, Bluefur. The brief thought was pushed away – Darkstripe was gone, too.

"Longtail," Tinyclaw decided. "He can lead it."

Tinyclaw froze. Suddenly, everyone was staring at him as if fish had spilled from his mouth. Feeling awkward under all their eyes, he wondered, "What?"

"Longtail is out with Brightpaw," Mousefur mewed. "They won't be back until sundown. Remember?" Beside her, Dustpelt snorted, eyes glittering with amusement. Runningwind nudged him and grumbled something into the younger warrior's ear.

Tinyclaw cursed himself. This is all so hard to keep track of! Being deputy was far more confusing than being a warrior. Having to organize all these patrols made it hard for Tinyclaw to think sometimes. It made him feel all the more foolish when there was something he ought to have known, since he had been the one to order it done.

"Runningwind, then," he grunted. "Take Cinderpelt and Dustpelt with you."

"Actually," squeaked Cinderpelt. The fluffy gray she-cat lifted her leg, still crisscrossed with red welts from the battle. "Brackenfur and Yellowfang said I shouldn't do patrolling – I'd really like to do it, otherwise. Medicine cat's orders, though."

"You can go hunting with Mousefur, then; just take it easy," Tinyclaw offered. "And…" He grasped for someone who wasn't busy.

"I'll go," Sandstorm offered.

"Thanks," Tinyclaw said. "And Sandstorm." He blinked gratefully at the orange tabby she-cat, and her smile lifted his heart.

"The patrol?" asked Dustpelt. "Evening will have come and gone by the time you've decided."

Tinyclaw grasped again, but his annoyance was mounting. There aren't enough warriors for this! He almost suggested Oakheart – but Tigerstar and Yellowfang had ordered the warrior to take things easy for a while. Losing Bluefur had been a huge blow to him – she'd been his mate, after all.

"You'll have to go on your own," Tinyclaw mewed resignedly. "Take Thornpaw with you, if you want."

Dustpelt didn't look satisfied, but Runningwind nodded. Tinyclaw sighed – it would have to do.

"And sunset?" Mousefur wondered mildly. Tinyclaw glanced at her – the older warrior wasn't trying to test his patience. Though Mousefur could be as prickly as Dustpelt, if not more, sometimes… at least she knew when to tone it down.

Before Tinyclaw could think, Whitestorm's voice cut in: "I'd like to go, if you wouldn't mind." Tinyclaw glanced at the big white warrior. "Longtail and Brightpaw ought to be back by then – they'd like to go, I'm sure."

"Of course," Tinyclaw agreed. He was grateful that the white warrior had taken the charge on that. Tinyclaw was at his wits end, after having to deal with Cloudpaw earlier.

The cats moved away, satisfied with the arrangements. Tinyclaw sighed. "I should have thought all that through, I suppose."

"It'll get easier," Whitestorm assured him. "Every deputy struggles their first few days. One day you'll get up and start issuing orders, just like Bluefur did."

Tinyclaw tensed.

"Everyone's edgier, too," Whitestorm went on. "The battle is still fresh in their minds, and they're anxious to defend their land. Bluefur's treachery has shaken the whole Clan."

Tinyclaw looked at Whitestorm. The white warrior was trying to encourage him, to tell him that things would get better – Tinyclaw understood that, and respected him for it. It was easy for Tinyclaw to forget that not every cat knew about Bluefur's actions before they were brought to light. The murder of the previous deputy, Redtail, and the failed attempts on Tigerstar's life were all things that Tinyclaw had known long before.

I'll never do what she did, Tinyclaw told himself for the umpteenth time. Never.

Whitestorm's voice interrupted his thoughts: "I must go see Brindleface," he mewed. "There's something she wanted to speak with me about." He rose to his paws and, just like that, he was across the camp.

Tinyclaw watched him go, his belly rumbling. The hunger pulled his eyes away from Whitestorm, and he wondered about that pigeon Cloudpaw had caught. At the thought of his apprentice, his eyes drifted over to their den, across the camp. Whitestorm's apprentice Swiftpaw had just settled himself outside the warrior's den, looking content but tired. Tinyclaw started towards him.

Swiftpaw stopped washing as Tinyclaw approached. "Hello," he offered, curt.

"Hello," Tinyclaw returned. "Been hunting?"

"Yes," Swiftpaw replied. His eyes shone, betraying his usual stolid attitude. "It was the first time Whitestorm let me hunt by myself."

"Catch anything?"

"Two sparrows and a squirrel," Swiftpaw meowed proudly, grinning. "The squirrel was tough… it almost escaped!"

"Well done!" Tinyclaw praised. Squirrels were a tough catch for apprentices. "Whitestorm was pleased, I assume?"

Swiftpaw nodded. "Don't worry, I took it all to the elders," he meowed. "Whitestorm told me that was what I needed to do with what I caught, so I did. Was that all right?"

Tinyclaw nodded. "Yes!" he assured Swiftpaw. If only Cloudpaw could be so reliable! He excused himself and padded towards the elder's den. ThunderClan had many elders, and two sparrows and a squirrel was not enough to feed them. Tinyclaw sighed, wishing that his apprentice was as reliable as the others.

Voices drifted up from the fallen oak where the elders made their den. Speckletail mewed, "Willowpelt's kits will be born soon." Speckletail was the oldest nursery queen, deciding to stay as a queen rather than return to warrior duties. Of her last kits, Snowkit was deaf – he had been moved to the elders den until Tigerstar could decide whether or not he could be apprenticed properly. Speckletail was in there now, washing her son between his ears.

"New kits are always a good omen," One-eye murmured.

"StarClan knows we need a good one," Smallear grunted darkly. Tinyclaw stopped mid-step, just outside the den. The elders could not see him there, as Tinyclaw's heartbeat quickened.

"You can't still be fretting about the ritual!" hissed Patchpelt. The black and white tom's ears had to be flat, by that tone.

"The what?" One-eye wondered. The oldest she-cat in the Clan was half-blind and half-deaf herself.

"The naming ceremony for the Clan deputy," Patchpelt meowed loudly. "You know, when Bluefur was banished a quarter moon ago?"

One-eye's hissed was unmistakeable. "It's my ears that don't work well, you furball. Not my mind!" She sighed, her temper cooling. The other cats listened in silence, for One-eye was well-respected for her age and wisdom: "StarClan can't be upset with us for how all that turned out. The ceremony might have been wrong, but the circumstances were unusual."

"But that makes it worse!" Dappletail fretted. "What does StarClan think of a Clan whose deputy turned against them, and their successor was named after moonhigh? It looks as though we cannot keep our cats loyal or obey proper ceremonies!"

Tinyclaw dug his claws into the earth, an icy ripple flooding his spine. Bluefur's betrayal had rattled Tigerstar so much that Tinyclaw's ascension to deputy had not happened with the proper words or timing. Tinyclaw had thought that it had blown over by now, but clearly some cats still saw it as a bad omen.

"This will be a dark time, I tell you," Smallear sighed. "I hate to say it – he seems like a stand-up fellow – but his naming has broken Clan ritual for the first time, that I can recall."

The silence from the elders – only broken by Snowkit's muddled squeaks of protest from a rough washing – dropped Tinyclaw's heart into his stomach. Was their faith in him so easily shaken? The cold feeling did not leave his bones, despite the heat of the sun above.

Tinyclaw turned away quickly, unable to face the elders now. His paws shook as he padded towards the nursery, lost in his own spinning thoughts. A sudden movement just outside the nursery caught his eye, and Tinyclaw looked up. He froze, his heart pounding as he recognized Bluefur's pale pelt and dark blue eyes blinking at him. Horrified, Tinyclaw took a step back – but when they tilted their head, Tinyclaw realized his error. This was not Bluefur – it was Mistykit, Bluefur's daughter.