"Yellowstar! Yellowstar! There's a-we-it-"

Pigpaw bolted through the tunnel just after Yellowstar and Mapledawn, out of breath and blabbering, his pelt bushed out to twice his size.

"Take a breath," Paletuft said, crossing over from the fresh-kill pile where she'd been sharing tongues with Fallensnow. "Then tell us what's wrong."

"Sorry," Pigpaw said, taking great gulps of air. "There are cats fighting," he said, speaking more steadily now, though each word seemed to be an effort. "On our border. With the moorland cats-TallClan?"

"Paletuft, organize a patrol," Yellowstar barked. "Fallensnow, you're fast, see if you can find-"

"Hold on," Pigpaw said, "it's not our cats-it's a bunch of other ones fighting the TallClan cats!"

"Are you sure?" Paletuft asked. "No offense, but you're so new, you might not know everyone in the Clan."

"I know FireClan! There's you, and Mapledawn, and Dapplecreek, and Fallensnow, and Yellowstar, and Jaggedclaw, and Acorntail, Wrencatcher, Skypaw, Stormypaw, Freezepaw, Beechwhisker, not to mention-"

"StarClan above," Paletuft hissed, cutting him off. "Fine, we get it. Yellowstar?"

Mapledawn looked to her leader, curious what she would do. "Well," Yellowstar began, "if it's on our border, we have to check it out. It could be a trap, a plea for help, or just a bunch of rogues tussling with a TallClan border patrol." She narrowed her eyes. "But I smell Scratchface."

Paletuft nodded. "Pigpaw, which cats were you with? Are they still there?"

Pigpaw shook his head. "Downtail took me, Burrpaw, and Littlepaw for hunting practice after you had us clean out the elder's den. But Downtail suggested we break up to hunt alone for extra practice, then meet up with Dapplecreek's patrol, and I got carried away chasing a rabbit. I ended up near the moorland, a few foxlengths in from the FireClan scent marks. I didn't know where the others had gone. I just ran straight for the clearing." He looked at Yellowstar, then Mapledawn, his face falling. "Did I do the wrong thing?"

"You did just fine," Yellowstar mewed.

"Right." Paletuft lashed her long, white-plumed tail. "Fallensnow, Yellowstar's right. Try and find Dapplecreek's patrol. They should be near the BlackClan border by now. Send Downtail to defend the camp if he's there, and fall back with him, too, but tell the rest to run straight for the TallClan border."

"After the big tree," Pigpaw added.

"The section by the Whispering Maple," Paletuft translated. "Pigpaw, you stay here to guard the camp." She looked around the clearing. Jaggedclaw padded out from the dirtplace. Thrushflight peeked his head out from the nursery. Acorntail had been watching quietly from outside the warrior's den the whole time; at Paletuft's nod, he padded forward.

"Jaggedclaw, Thrushflight, Pigpaw, and Acorntail," Paletuft said. "We need you to guard the camp. Station one cat each at the nursery and elder's den."

"Freezepaw?" Yellowstar called across the clearing, her voice deep and commanding. "Mistpaw?"

Freezepaw peeked her head out from the cave, looking confused. "Sorry!" she mewed. "Mistpaw thought it'd be a good idea to teach Stormypaw and Skypaw some basic herbs, just in case." Stormypaw and Mistpaw padded out of the cave. "I was just about to ask where Skypaw was."

"With Dapplecreek's patrol," Paletuft said. "Stormypaw, I need you to help Jaggedclaw and Acorntail guard the camp. Do you think you can handle that?"

The gray-and-white tom nodded seriously. Freezepaw took one look between the apprentice and the Clan deputy, and nodded briskly.

"Right," she said. "Mistpaw, gather some cobwebs from the bush over there. We need to prepare for injuries."

Mapledawn edged closer to the nursery. Is Patchkit okay?

"Yellowstar?"

The regal yellow she-cat turned with an expression like she'd forgotten Mapledawn was even there. "See to your kit," the leader mewed. "If it comes to it, help the others defend the camp."

Mapledawn relaxed. "You can trust me," she said.

"I know I can."

She caught the eyes of Jaggedclaw, one of the Clan's sharpest-tongued warriors, and found a glimmer of approval-even adoration?-in them. Mapledawn nodded at him; the black tom took up guard in front of the nursery, his blue eyes fixed on the thorn tunnel.

"Hi, little one," Mapledawn mewed, stepping into the dark den. "How are you?" Patchkit tumbled over her paws. She bent down to lick his fur straight.

"He was great!" a voice chirped.

"Yew?" Mapledawn said, surprised. "You're still here?"

"Of course!" Yew said. She spotted him now, spread out in a moss nest in the left corner while Ravenkit batted at his scrawny-looking tail. "You know I love kits."

"Yew is a wonderful helper," Redpoppy mewed, reaching up to lick Mapledawn's ear. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a nursing queen with how well he took care of the little ones."

"Honestly, I wish I could stay in here all day," Yew said with a sigh, lifting his tail out of Ravenkit's reach.

"Mom," Mapledawn said. "TallClan was seen fighting on our border. Yellowstar sent a patrol to check it out."

"Thrushflight told me," Redpoppy said. "Do you need to go?"

Mapledawn shook her head. "My place is here," she said, "with Patchkit."

"We're happy to have you," Redpoppy purred, looking fondly down at her own three kits. Hawthornkit tumbled over Cricketkit, while Petalkit was studiously practicing a battle crouch, her eyes fixed on Ravenkit's tail. Mapledawn curled up beside her mother, facing the nursery entrance, just in case the battle reached this far.

{}

Yellowstar matched her mate's daughter step-for-step as they crashed through Thunder forest toward the TallClan border. Usually Paletuft, with her longer legs and leaner frame, was faster than Yellowstar, but the thrill of a potential battle lent power to her paws. Although she didn't relish the danger-StarClan knows my Clan has been through enough-the chance that she could put an end to Scratchface's plans right here, right now, without having to risk Wrencatcher's life and loyalty finding his sister, made her pelt buzz with excitement.

Pigpaw obviously wasn't used to this sort of hard running. He'd quickly dropped some of his extra weight in his few days with the Clan, but he was a stout cat, nearly as burly as a CrookedClan tom, and Yellowstar could hear his heavy breathing behind her. Still, the young 'paw was keeping a good pace. If the others are as hard working as he is, they may well have a place in our ranks. Mistpaw and Falconpaw had already impressed her; Mistpaw knew so much about herbs, and had such a strong, steady way about her, and Falconpaw was not only polite and noble, but skilled in both hunting and battle training. He was as capable as a full warrior, yet he didn't begrudge taking orders from other cats while he learned the Clan's ways.

Yewpaw was an odd one. Yellowstar hadn't missed how eagerly the gangly tom spoke of the Clan's kits, and how much he seemed to enjoy his time in the nursery over his time in the forest. She'd never heard of a tom becoming a denmother, but why not? She didn't expect her live-in nursery queens to constantly supply milk. It was up to the whims of cats and seasons whether FireClan's nursery had a suckling mother, and, although it wasn't expressly in the warrior code, the other Clans had historically offered aid in the past when one Clan's kits found themselves without a mother to nurse them. No Clan leader, not even foxhearted Weaselstar, would deny starving kits a chance to survive. Milk wasn't the purpose of a denmother; caring for kits was, and it could well be that Yewpaw was perfect for that role.

Yellowstar's ears swiveled forward as she picked up the screeching and spitting of fighting cats, still a way's off.

Paletuft cast a dark look at Yellowstar. She took a deep breath and, glancing back at Pigpaw running as hard as he could behind them, put on a final burst of speed. Her lungs ached; her sides ached; her legs felt like they were going to fall off. I may have three lives, she thought, panting hard, but I'm not a young cat anymore.

"Wait," Pigpaw groaned, "I can't run that fast!"

"It's okay," Yellowstar called back, managing to keep her voice steady even though she was out of breath. "We'll slow down once we can see what's happening. Don't push yourself too hard!"

She heard a grunt, and Pigpaw's heavy breathing fading away. Finally, they passed the Whispering Maple, an uncommonly large maple tree with big leaves that seemed to whisper when wind from the mountains blew over them. She kinked her tail over her back, signaling for Paletuft and Pigpaw to slow down.

The apprentice was right; it wasn't Yellowstar's cats battling TallClan on the border between the forest and the high, sweeping moors, but it certainly was on FireClan's border-and that made it their fight. She opened her jaws, trying to draw in as much scent as she could; the fight was such a mess of writhing pelts, she couldn't tell who the attackers were. Is Scratchface here? Surely these were his cats. Who else would attack TallClan? Yellowstar and Paletuft ducked behind a thorny bush with a gap big enough to look out, watching the small, far-off shapes of fighting cats.

Pigpaw dropped to the ground next to Yellowstar, breathing heavily. Though his eyes were glazed from exhaustion, he didn't seem harmed.

"Rest a moment," Yellowstar whispered. "I want to give Dapplecreek's patrol a chance to catch up before we join the fray."

"Fight?" Pigpaw said when his breathing slowed down. "We're gonna fight?"

Yellowstar regarded him. "FireClan must defend its borders."

Pigpaw stood up, shook himself out, and nodded resolutely. "Right," he mewed. "We'll show those other cats-whoever they are-not to set foot in Thunder forest!"

His eyes shining, tail up, and pelt bristling, Yellowstar was sure he meant it. She stifled a purr of amusement at Pigpaw's vigor.

"So," Yellowstar whispered. "What is a pig?"

"Oh, pigs?" Pigpaw said. "They're these huge, hairless creatures with giant, long jaws, massive stomachs, and floppy ears. They root around the ground, eating anything and everything they can find until they get so big you wonder how they can even move. Humans keep them for meat." His eyes widened. "Hold on… You've never tasted pork?"

"Pork?" Yellowstar tilted her head. "Is that pig meat?"

"Oh my god," Pigpaw gasped, "it's delicious! Salty and pink with rivers of white fat all through it…" He licked his chops. "Although not very good for you." He patted his still rotund belly. "Birds and squirrels are much healthier, I think, and more interesting. Pork is delicious, but it just tastes like fat."

Yellowstar let out that held-back purr. Pigpaw was a strange creature.

"We've waited long enough," Paletuft snapped. "If they're not on their way by now, they're not coming."

Yellowstar dipped her head. Her deputy was right.

"Pigpaw, Mapledawn assured us you were battle-tested," she whispered into the tom's ear. "Are you ready to prove that?"

"Yes, ma'am," he mewed softly.

"Uh. Right. Thank you…. We're going to go as quiet as we can until they spot us. Be ready for anything."

They crept up the low hill to the moorland, Paletuft in the lead. Yellowstar's eyes narrowed on her prey. There were four TallClan cats-she recognized Runninghare, Greenpod, and Goldenstripe as they got closer. The last cat she placed as Furlscruff. They were fighting at least six, no, seven, unfamiliar cats. As Yellowstar and her party got close enough to see the attackers, Yellowstar's lips pulled back in a vicious snarl. Scratchface. He was takingon Furlscruff in the center of the throng. She recognized Lynxpelt, and the solid black cat might've been Deepshadow, but the rest of his cats were unfamiliar. Rogues? Loners? Kittypets? No, they fought too well for pets. They had to be rogues, pulled into Scratchface's schemes.

Why here? Did this mean Scratchface didn't have Weaselstar's approval? Then why had Wrencatcher found two different camps in the Shadow pines, one of them abandoned? A coincidence? They'd simply found a better spot all of a sudden, for no other reason?

Yellowstar shook her head. It didn't matter now. "FireClan!" she yowled. "Attack!"

She, her deputy, and Pigpaw leapt out from the scant brush bordering the forest and the ridge of moorland, yowling and screeching. Goldenstripe was tussling with a smoky gray tom with a white belly. When she heard FireClan's yowling, she leapt away from the tom and turned, hissing. The smoky tom lashed his claws across Goldenstripe's back. Yellowstar leapt for the invading tom. She surprised him, and landed squarely on his back. She pummeled her hind claws against his spine, holding onto his back with her teeth, while he tried in vain to shake her off. The tom yowled in agony, and Goldenstripe, realizing Yellowstar was on her side, joined in, clawing at the tom's face. Blood flew from his face and spine, spattering the dry grass red.

Yellowstar jumped cleanly off the back of the tom, who turned tail and ran into the tall grass further up the slope.

"Thanks," Goldenstripe mewed shortly, not looking thankful at all.

Yellowstar didn't have any more time for pleasantries. The fight was even now, but only just. Paletuft slashed at Lynxpelt while Pigpaw battled with a lighter cat, landing heavy blow after heavy blow while tanking the enemy's strikes like they were nothing. Greenpod battled a stout black tom, while Furlscruff, his scruffy fur even more wild and ungroomed than usual, wrenched his tail out from the mouth of a black and white she-cat. Where did Scratchface go?

Before Yellowstar could move to help the TallClan warrior, she finally spotted Scratchface: he was prowling stealthily toward Pigpaw. His claws gleamed in the chill leaf-fall sun, a snarl poised on his lips. Pigpaw hadn't noticed. Yellowstar didn't dare yowl a warning. Instead, she dropped immediately into a hunter's crouch and began stalking Scratchface. The sounds of battle, the smell of heather and dry fronds, and the distant patter of pawsteps fell away as Yellowstar focused on the wiry brown tom. The end of her tail twitched over her back. She moved silently, setting down each paw with care. The wind was neither help nor hindrance; it seemed to blow straight down from the sky. The ground sloped up toward him. She padded closer. Closer, until she was only a half of a foxlength away. She could count each hair on Scratchface's pelt. It was neatly groomed, though clawmarks-Mapledawn's, she thought with satisfaction-showed through patches of fur, long and pink and angry.

Yellowstar bunched up her hindlegs, shaking them a bit like she was about to climb a tree after a robin, and sailed through the air.

"Scratchface!" she spat as she bowled into him. "Mangepelt!"

Scratchface flew to the side and scrabbled to his paws, his eyes narrowed in hate. "FireClan, always putting their whiskers where they don't belong!" he hissed. He ran for her, claws outstretched. She didn't dodge; she wanted to face him head-on, to keep him from rounding reinforcements or diverting her attention.

Yellowstar took the full force of Scratchface's attack. He seemed surprised; she grunted, briefly winded as they crashed together, his claws snagging in her shoulder, but she stayed on her feet, digging her back claws into the dirt for support.

"You're crowfood," Yellowstar hissed into his ear. And an idiot. His claws dug deeper into her flesh, sending white-hot pain down her shoulder, but he'd sailed right for her jaws. His neck was less than a whisker's length away.

Yellowstar moved for the killing blow-only to feel her legs disappear from under her, for her muzzle to meet dirt. Pain erupted from her spine, then her neck, as she fell, hard, to the peaty ground. She couldn't see or smell who'd attacked her. She could only see Scratchface's hateful, scarred face next to her right eye, gloating down at her.

But Yellowstar didn't call the retreat. I have three lives, she thought, trying to move despite the agony sending shockwaves up her back and neck, and I'll gladly lose each of them to beat you. Blood slicked from her neck and down her face to stain the ground next to her nose.

Then the weight lifted. Scratchface jerked back, spitting more curses. Dapplecreek's patrol! She thought she'd heard footsteps racing through the forest, and she'd been right. Yellowstar couldn't stifle a wail of pain as she got to her feet.

"Steady," came a voice. Pigpaw? The stout tom thrust his shoulder under Yellowstar, helping her up. His pelt was matted and thick with blood. Falconpaw, Burrpaw, and Littlepaw were there, too, but where was Dapplecreek?

Blearily, Yellowstar shook her head and looked around. Dapplecreek's black-tipped tail disappeared through the tall grass.

"After her!" Yellowstar rasped. Falconpaw and the other three apprentices nodded grimly.

"Scratchface!" Paletuft said, running after the disappearing Dapplecreek. "She's chasing Scratchface. Those other maggot-tails scattered. After them!" Falconpaw and Littlepaw immediately gave chase.

Yellowstar limped forward, feeling dizzy; she knew she'd lost a lot of blood, but for what, if she didn't catch up to Scratchface? I have to finish this.

Pigpaw was staring at her. Goldenstripe and Greenpod, too. Furlscruff was lying motionless in the grass. Yellowstar couldn't tell if he was still alive. The other three TallClan cats were bleeding and panting, but on their paws. Runninghare wasted no time in justifying his name and pelting after the FireClan patrol.

"Go," she told Pigpaw. And to Greenpod and Goldenstripe, she merely shrugged and said: "I'm not your leader."

"You look like you're about to collapse," Goldenstripe said.

"I'll be fine." Yellowstar limped, then walked; clenching her teeth, she broke into a sprint.

"We should go back to camp," Greenpod mewed, bowing her head. "And tell Swiftstar what happened." They sniffed Furlscruff a moment, then, tails drooping, bent to shoulder him onto their backs, supporting his body between the two of them. Yellowstar watched them pad deeper into TallClan territory as she tried to catch her breath.

"I'll stay by you," Pigpaw said. "I can't run that fast anyway."

"If I command you to go," Yellowstar said, "will you go?"

"Yes," Pigpaw said, "if I have to, ma'am."

Ma'am. This cat and his strange words. Yellowstar just flicked her ear. Might as well let him stay. She paused for breath before continuing on. She could still see the other cats; they hadn't outrun her yet, though she was struggling to keep up. She put on a last desperate burst of speed. Scratchface was heading into Thunder forest toward the lake, where the blasted moors gave way to sheltered brush and scant beech trees. There, Dapplecreek, Paletuft, and Burrpaw whipped their heads around, mouths open like they were scenting for prey.

Gasping for breath, Yellowstar slowed to a stop. "We lost him?" she panted.

Runninghare nosed a fallen leaf. "Here!" he called. "This way!"

The chase was back on.

To Yellowstar's surprise, the scent trail continued on to the lake. Where was he planning to go? Even if he had somehow learned to swim, no cat would dare swim across the whole of the lake.

They burst from the cover of Thunder forest and into a thin slice of sandy beach.

Yellowstar's jaw hung open when she saw Scratchface and his cats pushing through the shallows far down the banks, near the TallClan border.

They were heading for a flat piece of wood, as wide as Highledge, bobbing atop the waves.

"What the fuck?" Pigpaw said softly from her side.