Gorse isn't convinced by Rowanclaw's assertion that all he and his group intends to do is talk. It feels wrong not to tell Rushstar about Rowanclaw and his allies conspiring with Riverclan cats behind his back.
He is uncomfortably aware that most of the Shadowclan cats aren't sure of his loyalty yet. After all, I abandoned Thunderclan, so why should they trust me here in Shadowclan?
Keeping secrets from their leader seemed likely to prove that he couldn't be relied on.
At the same time, he knows he is the last cat who should be making accusations against Rowanclaw. The whole clan has seen his hostility toward him. Even if Rushstar believed him, he might see him as a troublemaker who had no place in Shadowclan.
If any cat is to report to Rushstar, it ought to be Sunbeam, but Gorse understands why she is reluctant. After all, so far Rowanclaw and the others had only talked to some Riverclan cats. They hadn't acted against any of Rushstar's orders. And whatever Riverclan did about their Medicine cat, it is Riverclan's business.
"I know it's harder for you, with Rowanclaw being your father," he tells Maplefall. "Of course you don't want to get him into trouble."
"Does that mean you want to….." Maplefall begins nervously.
"No, I promise I'll stand by your decision," Gorse assures her. "I won't say a word about what we overheard, if that's what you think is best. But we should still keep an eye on Rowanclaw and his group."
"Yes, sure," Maplefall agrees at once. "Maybe everything will be fine, as long as they're just talking and not starting fights."
"Maybe." Gorse isn't convinced.
I wish I were sure that we're doing the right thing.
"There's something else Rowanclaw said," Maplefall continues. "He thinks there's a good chance that the other clans will attack Shadowclan if nothing changes before the next Gathering."
"And that's a half-moon away." Gorse feels a small worm of apprehension stir in his belly.
"It's unlikely that Rushstar will change his mind before then —unless Riverclan gets a new Medicine cat or a leader. Like that's going to happen," he finishes gloomily.
"True," Maplefall agrees. "But I can't imagine that the other clans would attack us over this. Most cats are too sensible—at least, I believe they are. I just hope that Rowanclaw and his group don't feel like they have to do something rash if nothing changes before the Gathering."
"What could they do?" Gorse wonders. "They can't force Rushstar's paws."
"I don't know. . . ." Maplefall blinks unhappily. "But Rowanclaw has been pretty creative with the tasks he's thought up for you and Aphidroot. And I'm not sure I trust that Icefade at all."
"I certainly don't," Gorse declares. "And you're right about your father, but I don't think he has time to do anything really dreadful. Except for my next task."
His mouth twists wryly. "I'm sure he's thought up something really grim for tomorrow."
"You'll be fine," Maplefall assures him.
"I wish I could say the same about Riverclan. The thing is," she confesses, "Rushstar should pull out of there. I agree with Rowanclaw on that, at least, if not with the way he's going about it. . . ."
She fixes her gaze on Gorse, her eyes liquid with unhappiness. A shiver goes through him as he realizes all over again what a beautiful cat she is. But this isn't the time to think about that.
He leans toward her and gives her ear a lick.
"It'll be okay," he reassures her.
Maplefall heaves a long sigh.
"It bothers me because I've never doubted Rushstar's decisions on something serious before," she mews sadly. "I've always trusted him to do the right thing for our clan."
"Well, this time I think he's wrong, too," Gorse meows. "Shadowclan shouldn't be taking over Riverclan, it's no wonder that the Riverclan cats resent it. Though I do believe that Rushstar means well, and he doesn't want to take Riverclan over for good, just guide them while they find a new leader."
Maplefall nods agreement.
"He isn't grabbing for power, but I wish he weren't so hardheaded," she murmurs. "He never listens to any arguments against his own point of view."
.
.
.
.
Wisps of morning mist still drift through the forest, and the grass stems are heavy with dew, when Rowanclaw leads the way out of camp on the following day. Gorse pads along at his shoulder, his heart racing as he wonders what new task he had devised for him.
Most of the Shadowclan cats are following them, including Rushstar himself. Once again Rowanclaw chooses the path that leads toward the half bridge and the greenleaf Twolegplace, halting at the edge of the clearing where, according to Maplefall, the twolegs set up their pelt-dens.
Gorse knows that usually the twolegs only came there in greenleaf, when the weather was warm, but now one small pelt-den still remains, in the center of the clearing. The golden tabby and white tom wrinkles his nose at the strong scent of twoleg, and feels a tingle of apprehension at an underlying smell of dog.
Scanning the clearing, he spots the twoleg at the far side, its back turned to them as it fusses with a small fire, adding the acrid tang of smoke to the other unfamiliar scents. He can't see any sign of the dog.
Turning to face Rowanclaw, Gorse sees a look of satisfaction in his gaze, as if he is pleased with himself.
"Okay," he meows. "What do I have to do?"
"Your next task," Rowanclaw replies, raising his voice so that the cats crowding up behind them can hear, "is to steal something out of the pelt-den without being caught by the twoleg."
Gorse feels a pulse of alarm, though he does his best to hide it. He hadn't expected a challenge that would involve twolegs, much less dogs, and he isn't at all confident that he would be able to pull it off.
He is aware of some uneasy muttering from the Shadowclan cats. Ravennose pushes her way to the front of the crowd.
"That's unnecessarily risky," she points out, her gaze challenging Rowanclaw. "And it isn't something that a Shadowclan cat would do. The whole point of these tasks is for Brokenheart to prove that he can be a Shadowclan cat."
"I agree," Rushstar meows, coming to stand beside his daughter. "Twolegs are dangerous, and no clan cat would mess with one unless there was a good reason. Choose something else, Rowanclaw."
Gorse feels his pelt begin to prickle with hope that Rowanclaw would obey his clan leader and he wouldn't have to do the task after all. But Rowanclaw isn't going to back down as easily as that.
"This is a good reason," he insists. "I'll admit we don't usually go near twolegs. But this test will need stealth, and stealth is one of the most important skills of a Shadowclan cat. And another important skill is speed, which Brokenheart will need to escape if the twoleg spots him."
"But what about that dog?" Runningstalk objects, sniffing the air. "A cat would have to have bees in their brain to go anywhere near a dog if they didn't have to."
"The dog is not part of the challenge," Rowanclaw retorts. "Can any cat see a dog? No? Okay, then, it won't interfere."
Gorse is disappointed to see Runningstalk turn aside with an angry shrug. He lets out a sigh of resignation; obviously Rowanclaw isn't going to change his mind.
"Yeah, Rowanclaw is right," Toadfoot meows. "The tasks are supposed to be difficult and dangerous."
Rowanclaw shoots a sidelong glance at Aphidroot.
"Otherwise," he mews, "we might find ourselves accepting cats who aren't fully committed to Shadowclan."
At Rowanclaw's comment, Aphidroot's mate, Quillfur, lashes his tail furiously and opens his jaws to protest, but Aphidroot lies her tail across his mouth and gives a tiny shake of her head. Quillfur subsides, though he still fixes Rowanclaw with a sullen glare.
Gorse sees that Rushstar is still looking doubtful, but he obviously isn't going to insist that Rowanclaw change the task. I have to do it, so I might as well make the best of it, he thinks.
Summoning all his resolve, Gorse steps up to face the clan leader.
"I can do it, Rushstar," he declares. "It'll be fine."
Rushstar hesitates a heartbeat longer, then shrugs.
"Okay, go for it," he agrees. "I put Rowanclaw in charge of these tasks, and if you don't object, Brokenheart, then there's no reason to question his choice."
Rowanclaw takes a pace back, a smug look on his face, and waves his tail toward the pelt-den.
"Off you go, then, Brokenheart" he mews.
Gorse takes a deep breath and braces himself for the challenge. Slinking out of the undergrowth, pressing his belly to the ground as if he is stalking prey, he keeps a wary eye on the twoleg, which still has its back to him.
A breeze has risen, scattering the last scraps of mist, and it blows toward Gorse; he guesses the twoleg wouldn't be able to scent him. But what about the dog?
Gorse can still smell it, but he can't see it anywhere; maybe Rowanclaw is right, and it isn't here right now.
Paw step by paw step, Gorse creeps across the clearing, his belly fur brushing the ground, hardly daring to breathe until he reaches the pelt-den. Part of the pelt is folded back to make an opening; Gorse pokes his head through the gap and peers around, looking for something he could steal.
More pelts cover the den floor, and at the far side are piles of strange-looking twoleg stuff: a few hard, shiny things like upturned leaves, and a roll of something weird and fluffy at the very back. None of that looks like something he could carry back to the Shadowclan cats, but in the middle of the den floor is a small twoleg pelt lying by itself; it is just the right size for him to carry easily.
"Thanks, twoleg," he breathes.
Darting into the den, Gorse gags at the stronger scents of twoleg and dog. He snatches up the small pelt, wincing at the weird taste. As he spins around to make his escape, he can't believe how easy the task has been so far.
But before Gorse can leave the pelt-den, a loud yapping breaks out behind him. His fur bristling, he looks back to see that what he had thought was a roll of weird fluffy twoleg pelts has reared up and shown itself to be a tiny but very angry dog. No wonder the dog scent is so strong in here! he thinks, briefly frozen in shock.
The dog charges at him, still yapping and baring sharp-looking teeth. Before Gorse can pull himself together and flee, it grabs the other end of the pelt and tugs at it. Determined not to lose his loot, Gorse digs all four sets of claws into the ground and yanks back.
For a few terrifying heartbeats they pull the pelt back and forth, until suddenly it tears in two and Gorse staggers back with half of it dangling from his jaws. At the same moment, light flows into the den as the twoleg yanks the flap open, yowling something.
Gorse streaks between the twoleg's legs, still clutching his half of the small pelt in his teeth, and dashes back across the clearing to where the Shadowclan cats are waiting. Is this fast enough for you, Rowanclaw?
He risks a glance over his shoulder and sees that the tiny dog is still chasing him, yapping fit to burst, until the twoleg runs after it, scoops it up, and carries it back into the pelt-den.
Gorse's heart is pounding as he rejoined the other cats. They scatter around him as he plunges into the undergrowth.
"Back to camp!" Rushstar yowls.
When he reaches the Shadowclan camp, Gorse is panting, his legs trembling from shock and exertion. Most of his clanmates have already arrived; Rushstar is standing in the center with Rowanclaw by his side, and Maplefall hovering nearby.
Gorse takes a moment to calm himself, worried that the chaos at the end of his task meant that he hadn't been stealthy enough.
Then he pads across the camp with his head and tail held high, to lay his piece of pelt at Rushstar's paws. By now thin tendrils are trailing off it, and it is damp with his spit. Rushstar bends his head to sniff it and rears back with a disgusted expression on his face.
"I completed the task," Gorse announces, dipping his head respectfully.
"You did nothing of the sort!" Rowanclaw objects, glancing indignantly from Gorse to Rushstar and back again. "You were supposed to demonstrate stealth, but you filled the forest with that racket."
"And you were caught by a dog and a twoleg," Snowbird points out.
Some of Rowanclaw's other allies, crowding around the white she-cat, muttering agreement
"They didn't catch me," Gorse argues, glaring at Snowbird with narrowed eyes.
"And you promised that the dog wasn't part of the task." Maplefall glares indignantly at her father. "But it was right there, in the pelt-den!"
And maybe he set that up deliberately, Gorse thinks, clenching his jaws to stop himself making the accusation aloud.
Rowanclaw's only response is to whisk his tail angrily.
Turning back to Rushstar, Gorse takes a calming breath and continues, "My task was to steal something from the pelt-den, and I did that."
He angles his ears toward the soggy half pelt.
"Yes, you did complete the task," Rushstar declares, to Gorse's relief. "The first part of your test, before you entered the pelt-den, was very stealthy. And on your way back, I've rarely seen a cat move so fast. You also showed admirable bravery, which is a very important quality for a Shadowclan cat."
"And now," he adds, "get that disgusting object out of my camp."
As Gorse picks up the half pelt, he sees Rowanclaw flicking his tail in annoyance. He pads up to him as he exchanges a glance with Maplefall, seeing anxiety in the young she-cat's eyes.
"You may have talked your way out of that one Brokenheart," Rowanclaw mews, his tone is pleasant, for the sake of his clanmates nearby, though his eyes are ominous. "But I still have one more chance to keep you out of Shadowclan."