When Graystar emerges from his den the following morning, the camp is already full of activity.
Mousefur is leaving at the head of a patrol. Sandstorm is rounding up Willowpelt's three kits, who bounce around her in wild excitement as she herds them toward the gorse tunnel on their way to the training hollow.
Brackenfur passes them at the entrance to the camp, a piece of fresh-kill in his jaws. Graystar spots Longtail with Bramblepaw and Ashpaw beside the thorn wall that surrounds the camp, and pads across to join them. The pale warrior comes to meet him.
"I'm getting these two to inspect the defenses and patch any gaps," he meows. "If Bloodclan gets this far…"
He stops, his green eyes worried.
"Good idea."
Graystar suppresses a shiver at the thought of Bloodclan breaking into the camp. He turns sharply at the sight of movement in the gorse tunnel, and flashes a glance of astonishment at Longtail as Ravenpaw appears, followed by Barley.
The black-and-white loner has never been to the Thunderclan camp before. Leaving his clanmate to finish instructing the apprentices, Graystar pads toward them. Ravenpaw hurries forward confidently, but Barley lags behind, glancing warily around, as if he isn't sure of a welcome.
"We have to talk to you," Ravenpaw blurts out. "Last night we met Onewhisker on the border of his territory and he told us about Scourge and Bloodclan."
The raven-colored fur on his shoulders bristles.
"We want to help, but more importantly, Barley has some information for you."
Graystar dips his head in greeting.
"It's good to see you both," he meows. "And we're grateful for any help we can get. Perhaps you'd better come to my den."
Barley relaxes at Graystar's friendly greeting, and the two loners follow Graystar to the hollow beneath the Highrock. Early-morning sunshine slants through the entrance and into the peaceful den.
Graystar can almost forget the threat from Scourge and his bloodthirsty followers. But the serious expressions of his visitors reminds him all too clearly of the shadow over the future of the forest.
"What is it?" he prompts, once the two loners are settled.
Ravenpaw is gazing around him with an almost awestruck look—Graystar guesses he is remembering Bluestar, and maybe wondering at how the apprentice who had trained with him had come to take the former leader's place.
Barley, however, looks uneasy, crouching with his paws tucked under him as he begins to speak.
"I was born in Twolegplace," he begins quietly. "I know too much about Scourge and his warriors. I…I suppose you could say I was once a member of BloodClan."
Graystar's interest quickens.
"Go on."
"The first thing I remember is playing with my littermates on a patch of waste ground," Barley explains. "Our mother taught us to hunt and find food among twoleg rubbish. Later on she showed us how to defend ourselves."
"Your mother mentored you?" Graystar asks, surprised. "All of you?"
Barley nods. "Bloodclan doesn't have a proper system of mentors and apprentices. It's not a clan at all in the way you forest cats understand it. Most cats listen to Scourge because he's the strongest and the most vicious, and Bone is a kind of deputy, insofar as he carries out Scourge's dirty work."
"Bone?" Gray asks. "Is that a big black-and-white cat? He was there at Fourtrees."
"That sounds like him, yes." The loner's voice is filled with disgust. "He's almost as bad as Scourge. Any cats who don't do as they're told are chased off, if they're lucky, or more likely killed."
Graystar stares at him. "But what about caring for kits and elders?"
Barley shrugs.
"A she-cat's mate will probably hunt for her while she's nursing her kits," he mews. "Even Scourge realizes that if there are no kits, sooner or later there's no clan. But elders, or cats who are sick or injured—well, they're left to fend for themselves. It's kill or be killed, hunt or starve. There's no room for weakness."
Graystar feels every hair on his pelt bristle at the thought of a clan that did not care for cats who are in need, where cats who have given good service are allowed to die if they can not care for themselves.
"Then why does any cat follow Scourge?" he bursts out.
"Some of them enjoy killing." Barley's tone is cold and his eyes are bleak, staring at something Graystar can not see.
"And others are too scared to do anything else. You can't lead your own life in Twolegplace if you're not a kittypet with a twoleg nest to go to. Either you're with Scourge or against him, and cats who are against him don't last long."
Ravenpaw shifts closer to his friend and presses his muzzle comfortingly against his flank.
"That's why Barley left," he meows. "Tell Graystar about it, Barley."
"There's nothing much to tell."
Barley flinches, shrinking from some dark memory.
"I couldn't bear what Scourge was doing, so one night I slipped away. I was terrified that Scourge or his warriors would catch me, but I reached the edge of Twolegplace and crossed the Thunderpath. I scented cats in the forest, but at the time I thought they would be just like Scourge and his lot, so I kept away from them. And finally I came to the farm, where it seemed I could live unchallenged. The twolegs leave me in peace. They have no use for their mice."
He falls silent while Graystar thinks rapidly. Barley's words confirm what he already knows, that Scourge is a violent and dangerous enemy.
"Scourge must have weaknesses," he meows to Barley. "There must be some way of defeating him."
Barley meets his eyes and leans toward Graystar.
"His one great strength is his one great weakness," he replies. "Scourge and his warriors don't believe in Starclan."
Graystar wonders what he means. What is Barley trying to tell him?
"Bloodclan has no Medicine cat," Barley continues. "I've already told you, they don't care for the sick, and if they don't believe in Starclan, there aren't any signs that could be interpreted."
"Then…they don't follow the warrior code?"
That had been a stupid question, Graystar realizes as soon as the words are out. Everything Barley has told him, everything he has seen for himself of the way Scourge and his cats behaved, confirmed that. And Bloodclan isn't one of the four clans of the forest. They weren't around for anything that has happened in the clan's history until now.
"And you're telling me that's a weakness? All it means is they can do as they like, with no code of honor to stop them."
"That's true," Barley admits. "But think, Graystar. Without the warrior code you might be just as bloodthirsty as Scourge. You might even be better at fighting him. But without the belief in StarClan—what are you then?"
He meets Graystar's eyes steadily. Graystar's head reels. After what Barley has told him he dreads Bloodclan even more, and yet somewhere in his mind there is a faint spark of hope, as if Starclan are trying to tell him something that he can't understand—or not yet.
"Thank you, Barley," he meows. "I'll think about what you've told me. And I won't forget that you tried to help us."
"That's not all we'll do." Ravenpaw rises to his paws. "Onewhisker told us that you're meeting Scourge in battle in three days—two days, now. When you do, we'll both be with you."
Graystar stares at him, mouth open.
"But you're loners," he begins. "It's not your quarrel…."
"Come on, Graystar," Barley mews. "If Scourge and his gang take over the forest, how long do you think we will last? It wouldn't take them a quarter moon to find our barn and all the plump mice. We'd have the choice of getting out or being killed."
"We'd rather fight for our friends," Ravenpaw adds quietly.
"Thank you." Graystar feels humbled by the depth of loyalty the two loners are showing to him. "All the Clans will honor you."
Barley snorts. "I don't know about that. All I want is a quiet life—but I won't get it until Bloodclan is dealt with."
"None of us will."
Graystar's ears twitch in agreement.
"There's no hope for any of us while Scourge is in the forest."
Graystar has said good-bye to Ravenpaw and Barley and is heading for the sandy hollow to check up on the training program when he spots Owlfur and Frostfur leaping down the ravine. He pauses and waits for them.
"Any news?" he asks.
Frostfur nods.
"We've been along the ShadowClan border as far as Fourtrees," she reports. "There's a reek of Bloodclan coming from Shadowclan territory. You get the foul stink in your nose even from across the Thunderpath."
"They must be hiding out over there," Owlfur adds.
"That makes sense," Graystar mews thoughtfully.
"Thanks, Frostfur, Owlfur," he meows. "We needed to know that. Go and get something to eat."
With a nod of acknowledgment, Frostfur leads the way into the gorse tunnel with Owlfur close behind her. Graystar stands watching them go, and when the tip of Owlfur's tail has vanished he goes on to watch his cats training.
Brackenfur is standing on a jutting slab of rock overlooking the apprentices. He pricks his ears in greeting as Graystar comes to join him.
"How is it going?"
"Couldn't be better," Brackenfur replies. "If Scourge could see us, he'd bolt straight back to Twolegplace with his tail between his legs."
The golden-brown tabby warrior is wearing a look of stubborn determination that makes Graystar have more hope that they can defeat this foe.
"At any rate," Brackenfur continues, "we're the best fighting force this forest has ever seen."
His eyes widen as his gaze falls on a mock fight between Tawnypaw and Thornbranch.
"Hang on a minute, I need to give Tawnypaw a tip about her clawing action."
He leaps down from the rock and bounds across the hollow, leaving Graystar to look around. Closest to him, Speckletail and Smallear are stalking around each other, waiting for a chance to spring. Sandstorm is instructing Willowpelt's three kits on the other side of the hollow.
Graystar pads down to watch and he hears her meowing, "Okay, I'm a Bloodclan warrior and I've just broken into your camp. What are you going to-"
The last word becomes a screech as Sorrelkit pounces and bites down hard on her tail. Sandstorm spins around, one forepaw raised with claws sheathed, but before she can bat Sorrelkit away, Sootkit and Rainkit jump on her from behind. The ginger she-cat vanishes under a writhing mass of kits.
By the time Graystar reaches her, she is struggling free of them, her green eyes alight with laughter.
"Well done!" she meows. "If I really was from Bloodclan, I'd be running scared by now."
Turning to him, she adds, "Hi, there. Did you see these three? In a few moons they'll make great warriors!"
"I'm sure they will," Graystar mews.
"You're doing very well," he praises them. "And no cat could teach you better than Sandstorm."
"I want Sandstorm to be my mentor when I'm an apprentice," Sorrelkit meows. "Can she, Graystar?"
"No, I want her!" Sootkit protests.
Rainkit adds, "No, I do!"
Shaking her head, Sandstorm lets out a mrrow of laughter.
"Graystar will decide who your mentors will be," she tells the kits. "Now let him see you practice those defensive moves."
Graystar watches while the kits scuffle together, pretending to attack and defend themselves. Even though they are excited, they manage to remember what Sandstorm has taught them, dodging expertly or dashing in to give their mock attacker a quick nip.
"They're good," Sandstorm comments quietly. "Especially that little Sorrelkit."
"Well you've trained them well. Along with Stormpaw."
She purrs, "Yes it's too bad I have an apprentice already. Those kits will just have to make due without me."
"Training Stormpaw has been great, don't get me wrong…." she adds, and Graystar chuckles at her worry of her accidentally offending him.
"I know you meant no disrespect to my kit, Sand. And yes those three will just have to do without the best mentor in the world."
"I've only had one apprentice. I'm not the best, yet."
"I disagree. You got those kits to remember what you've taught them. They'll make fine warriors when it is time."
Sandstorm nods and they lean on each other entwining their tails together, watching proudly at the kits mock battle. Even though he and Sandstorm, the kits, and all the clan are standing on the brink of disaster, Graystar still can not suppress a burst of pride and hope.
Pressing his muzzle against Sandstorm's side, he murmurs, "We'll win the battle. I have to believe that."
Sandstorm does not reply in words, but the look she gives him says everything. Leaving her to go on with her lesson, albeit reluctantly, Graystar crosses the hollow to the far side, where Cloudtail and Brightspirit are training with Featherpaw and Dustpelt.
Brightspirit has just bowled Dustpelt over; he gets up, spitting out sand, and meows, "I never saw that move coming! Show me again."
Brightspirit drops into a crouch, but relaxes a moment later when she sees Graystar. Cloudtail pads over to him, his tail held high.
"Did you see that?" he asks proudly. "Brightspirit fights really well now."
"Carry on," Graystar prompts her. "This looks interesting."
Brightspirit flashes him a nervous look from her one good eye, and then turns back to concentrate. Dustpelt is trying to creep up on her blind side, but she weaves back and forth, keeping him in view the whole time. When he springs, she slips under his outstretched paws and hits his back legs to roll him onto the ground again.
"I see why you're called Dustpelt," Cloudtail jokes, making Featherpaw chuckle, as the brown warrior gets up again, shaking his fur.
"Well done, Brightspirit," Graystar calls.
Brightspirit beams at the praise and more hope arises in his chest. Perhaps they do have a chance at winning this. With all four clans united as one, until this dreadful battle coming up in two days is done. Though he remembers the last bit of Bluestar's prophecy which sends a chill down his spine: Blood will rule the forest.