Chapter 7
Mistyfoot's nose twitched, and she looked up. Two days had passed since the half-moon visit to the Moonpool, both of them warm and full of sneezes despite the medicine cats dosing her with coltsfoot and mallow. The herbs helped some, but Brackenfur admitted there was no real way to stifle the allergies, even if they knew the plant that caused them - Mistyfoot would just have to live with it.
She sighed. Whatever makes me sneeze so much sure didn't grow in the old forest! At least she didn't seem to be alone - Whitewing and Sun had complained of the same thing, and it seemed like Sun got them worse than anyone else, likely due to how sparse the growth was in the mountains.
Today, the morning sky was covered in a thin, pale gray sheet of clouds, and Mistyfoot could smell clearly. A few drops of rain fell here and there, and a band of blue was slowly growing in size on the horizon. A cool breeze rustled her whiskers, smelling fresh and sweet.
"Mousefur and I will be handling the fox-trap patrols," Mistyfoot meowed, lowering her muzzle to look down at her Clanmates. Their eyes were bright and eager - Mistyfoot had put off the task for too long, busy with escorting Shadepool or bogged down by her duties and dreams of her mother or treating her stubborn allergies. "I'll take one towards the ShadowClan border while Mousefur will head for the Divide."
"Just two patrols?" wondered Snowstep, waving his tail. "Will that be enough?"
"For now, yes," Mistyfoot answered, meeting the white warrior's eyes. She knew he was concerned for his son's safety in the forest more than anything else. "Once Mousefur and I show our patrols how to disarm the traps, we'll have more cats who can lead more patrols and more cats who can teach the rest."
That answer seemed to satisfy her Clanmates. Spiderfang, bouncing on her toes beside Whitewing, wondered, "So, who's going where?"
From the front of the crowd, Mousefur grunted, "I'll be taking Cinderpelt, Swiftfoot, and you, Spiderfang."
Spiderfang couldn't hold back her squeal of glee. She spun about in a circle, tail high, purring. Swiftfoot and Cinderpelt shared a glance, and Mistyfoot guessed they would have their paws full with the young warrior. Swiftfoot especially looked like he didn't want to deal with her energy.
"I've chosen Nightfrost and Silverstream," Mistyfoot explained. She passed her gaze over her choices - Nightfrost was a quick learner, as was Silverstream, and both had small, nimble paws. Both warriors raised their chins to acknowledge their deputy's words.
Graystripe fidgeted beside his mate and murmured, "Be careful, Silver."
Silverstream touched her nose to his ear. "Always, my dear."
"We'll be disarming any fox trap we can find on our halves of the territory," Mistyfoot went on, "and, more importantly, looking for any more obvious indications of their presence so that we can avoid them better in the future." She couldn't help but think of Snowstep and Longtail, whose disabilities made dealing with these fox traps more difficult. She would not allow ThunderClan cats to be intimidated in their own territory!
"And the rest of today's patrols?" asked Dustpelt.
Mistyfoot nodded at the dark tabby warrior. "You can take a hunting patrol out, Dustpelt," she said, "and the sunhigh patrol can be handled by Graystripe." She swept her gaze across the crowd and meowed on, "I don't know how long we'll be gone, so I'll want an evening patrol. Anyone?"
"I'll take it!" Whitewing offered.
Mistyfoot flicked an ear. Whitewing was a bit young to lead her own patrol, but she wasn't about to deny the white she-cat the opportunity to try. "Alright - Whitewing, pick a few warriors and head for the ShadowClan border. Cloudtail, you can take a patrol to the WindClan side."
"Got it," Cloudtail mewed. Beside her, Brightheart was licking Whitewing between the ears, purring proudly.
"Ashfur," Mistyfoot added, "Brackenfur said that Larchpaw has fully recovered. I want you to take him out hunting and do some battle training afterward. Light work, just in case."
Ashfur looked surprised to be called out, but he twitched his tail, grunting in response. Mistyfoot figured that was the best she was going to get - she just hoped that nothing happened to delay Larchpaw's training any further, or else Ashfur would find a way to blame it on her.
"Alright," Mistyfoot breathed. "That'll be all. The senior warriors have the camp while I'm gone. Good luck, everyone!"
The crowd dispersed, each cat moving off to their respective tasks. Mistyfoot watched them, pride welling in her chest.
"You've gotten the hang of things," Mousefur purred, nudging Mistyfoot with her shoulder.
Mistyfoot chuckled. "I suppose I have!"
Mousefur eyed her as if waiting for Mistyfoot to make a disparaging remark about herself. When she didn't, Mousefur's gaze softened. Mistyfoot's chest warmed, touched by her friend's care and the confidence that that care had helped foster.
Before the moment could last too long, Mousefur huffed, "Don't make that Silverstream wait too long - they say that RiverClan cats are patient, but I don't think anyone told her that."
"Be careful," Mistyfoot told her. She bent to touch her nose to Mousefur's shoulder. "I don't want to hear of anyone getting hurt, okay?"
"We'll take every caution," Mousefur promised, her voice crackling. She swatted softly at Mistyfoot's muzzle and mewed, "Stop that now, would you? I've got an image to maintain..."
Mistyfoot purred, lifting her muzzle. She watched Mousefur trot towards the camp entrance, where Spiderfang, Cinderpelt, and Swiftfoot awaited her. Mistyfoot had to respect the older warrior's choice of patrol - Cinderpelt was level-headed, Swiftfoot was strong, and Spiderfang was more clever than she let on. Mistyfoot felt they would do very well, especially with the extra danger of heading towards the Divide, where WindClan might think they were easy pickings.
Mistyfoot's patrol waited near the apprentice's den. Silverstream seemed stuck in a loop of reassuring Graystripe while Nightfrost was chatting idly with Rainwhisker. Mistyfoot made her way to them, her thoughts beginning to swirl.
She might've chosen either of the other toms to accompany her - but Graystripe's paws were too big and fluffy, and Rainwhisker needed to focus on returning to regular warrior duties while his grief for Sootfur ebbed. Beyond that, Mistyfoot didn't want too big of a patrol sniffing around the ShadowClan border - what they were doing was going to look strange enough, it didn't need to seem as if they were planning to invade the pine woods.
"Alright," Mistyfoot mewed, "are we ready?"
Silverstream playfully shoved Graystripe away. The big gray warrior pretended to look wounded, falling dramatically into the grass as if she had broken his heart. Silverstream didn't even look at him when she mewed, "We are."
Nightfrost nodded. "This is going to be really interesting!" he said. The excitement in his gaze made Mistyfoot's pelt warm.
"Well, be careful, all of you," Rainwhisker offered. He blinked at them and meowed, "I think we're all a little afraid of one of you ending up like Berry - or worse."
"The traps are only dangerous when you don't know they're there," Mistyfoot assured. "But I don't blame any of you one bit." She turned her muzzle to Silverstream and Nightfrost and meowed, "Okay, let's get going-"
"Wait!"
Mistyfoot flicked an ear at the high-pitched squeal. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Hazel and Goose stampeding across the clearing from the nursery grotto, little gray streaks that matched the clouds in the sky. Both skidded to a stop on gangly legs before they could hit the warriors, panting.
"What is it?" Rainwhisker wondered, his eyes wide. "Sorreltail? Is she okay?"
"What? Goose huffed, "No, we want to come with you!"
"Yeah!" Hazel continued. Her spikey tail stood straight up. "We can help with the traps! Our paws are really tiny, and-"
"No," Mistyfoot said immediately. "Not a chance!"
Both Hazel and Goose stared at her, incredulous. With their soft pelts pressed together, they looked like a cloudy sky in leaf-fall. As one, they demanded, "Why not?!"
Mistyfoot sighed. Perhaps she had been too harsh. "I admire your eagerness, I really do," she meowed patiently, "but you're both too young for this. Remember what I said about how a Clan works?"
Both nodded in unison.
"Well, kits aren't usually allowed out of camp until they're apprentices," Mistyfoot pointed out.
"We know," Hazel complained, "but we're almost six moons!"
"Yeah, doesn't that count?" Goose wondered.
Mistyfoot glanced back at her patrol. Silverstream was fidgeting impatiently, her blue eyes glaring at the oblivious kits. Nightfrost looked sympathetic, but he was fine with leaving this to Mistyfoot. Rainwhisker kept opening and shutting his jaws as if wondering if he should speak up, and Graystripe looked as amused as anything, still on his back from his silly display a moment ago.
"No, it doesn't," Mistyfoot answered, looking back at the kits. "This is a dangerous mission for warriors, not kits. I didn't even ask Larchpaw to come along." She put on her most serious expression. "What would your mother think if you got hurt like Berry did?"
Hazel and Goose both hesitated, glancing at one another. Mistyfoot guessed that the fact that Berry was still recovering from the infection lingering in his tail hadn't occurred to them. Hazel muttered, "I guess she'd be sad..."
"She would," Mistyfoot agreed, "and so would the rest of us." She softened her expression, then reached out to touch her nose to Hazel's forehead. "When we've cleared the territory of the traps, I promise I'll take all three of you out of camp."
Both kits perked up. "Really?" Goose wondered.
Mistyfoot nodded, drawing back from them. "Until then," she said, "practice your hunting techniques so you can teach them to Berry when he's healed."
"We will!" Goose exclaimed.
Hazel nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be the best hunters in the Clan!"
"We'll see about that," Mistyfoot purred back. She gestured with her tail to Rainwhisker, who quickly stood. The lean gray warrior nudged both kits to their paws, pushing them back towards the nursery - neither seemed to mind, both of them bragging about how great of hunters they would be.
Graystripe sidled up to Mistyfoot and mewed, "Good job, youngster."
"Thank you," Mistyfoot murmured.
Graystripe's eyes sparkled, and he trotted after the kits and Rainwhisker. He said something to them, and the dark gray warrior went down in the dirt, tackled by the pair of kittens. Rainwhisker watched, distressed momentarily, before twitching his whiskers in amusement.
Mistyfoot watched the kittens play-fight with Graystripe, who, she noticed, was teaching them proper Clan moves. Her heart stirred - the kits, at least these two, seemed very invested in wanting to be Clan cats. It made her think again of her mother's words, which made her pelt prickle.
I hope that they're interested because they want to be, she thought worriedly, not because I've somehow forced it on them. Clan life wasn't for every cat.
"Are we going now?" Silverstream wondered. Her voice was tinged with undisguised annoyance. "As cute as all that was, we're wasting daylight. We won't hear the end of it if we don't deal with enough of those traps."
"Yes," Mistyfoot meowed, coming back to herself. "Let's go."
She trotted for the camp entrance, tail flicking. Silverstream followed, yawning, and Nightfrost drew close to Mistyfoot's side, their pelts barely brushing.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. "You had a funny look just then."
"I'm fine," Mistyfoot told him quickly.
Nightfrost flicked an ear. "So long as you think so."
The rain stopped as they walked through the forest, the sky turning clear and blue with a cool breeze coming up between the trees from the lake. Mistyfoot twitched her whiskers, taking a deep breath - she had never been happier to see a newleaf come after the terrible leafbare of their arrival, full of battles and death and snow, and even if the air itself seemed intent on making her sneeze.
They made their way towards the training glade, a small clearing ringed by hills and trees that had been too small to make a camp but perfect for training with its soft ground and scattered obstacles. It was also a dangerous place for fox traps to be placed, so Mistyfoot had to focus her nose on the task.
There was a sudden rustle. Mistyfoot drew up, pausing mid-step, her nose twitching. There was no threat, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of gray - Silverstream had dove into a patch of ferns, and a moment later, she emerged with a mouse dangling from her jaws.
"Sorry," she meowed around her catch. "I didn't get breakfast this morning."
"No problem," Mistyfoot told her.
Silverstream took the moment to eat, devouring the mouse in a few quick gulps. Mistyfoot's own stomach rumbled - Silverstream wasn't the only cat who missed breakfast. Mistyfoot opened her jaws to scent the air and quickly picked out a strong scent of shrew just behind some brambles.
She signaled with her tail to Nightfrost, and the two set off, splitting up to prowl around the bush. There was a pair of shrews at the roots of a birch, shuffling for food - they stood no chance. In the blink of an eye, the two warriors pounced as one, and they returned to Silverstream with their kills.
The slender she-cat had finished her mouse by then and was washing away the remnants. Her ears perked when Mistyfoot and Nightfrost appeared. "Impressive," she commented.
Mistyfoot's ears burned. "It's nothing, really," she admitted. "We're just used to hunting together."
"Mm hm," Silverstream hummed, bending her chin to wash her chest.
Mistyfoot stared down at her shrew, almost too flustered to eat it. The silver she-cat had no idea that her son had been in love with Mistyfoot, so the comment made the whole thing doubly uncomfortable.
Nightfrost seemed to sense the awkward tinge in the air - he flopped down to eat, pulling his shrew close. "So," he wondered, "do you think Daisy and her kits will stay?"
"I think there's a lot of work to do on those kits if they stick around," Silverstream answered, changing the subject briskly. "As for their mother, I have my doubts."
"Everyone seems to," Mistyfoot mewed, recalling Dustpelt's words the other day.
Silverstream flicked her tail. "Don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't want her here, but with all that's been going on, I'm concerned that getting our hopes up might be a waste of time."
Nightfrost flicked an ear. "I'm right here, you know," he muttered around a mouthful of shrew. "I'm going to do my best as soon as Daisy's ready."
"And that's just it, though," Silverstream pointed out. "When will she be ready? Hovering around her son while he's recovering is just getting in Brackenfur and Shadepool's way, not to mention stalling her training. If she doesn't want to stick around and her kits do, that needs figuring out."
Mistyfoot licked a paw and drew it around her ear. "Would you abandon your kits in a strange place while they're so young?"
Silverstream raised her chin. "I would do anything for my kits, but I certainly wouldn't waste my time worrying when the situation is being handled. It's just going to make Berry's recovery take longer. Those kits are nearly six moons, and she's treating them like they still need her milk."
"She's scared," Nightfrost defended. "This is all new to her - we need to be patient."
Silverstream's eyes flashed. "And if she had come a moon ago and behaved this way, would WindClan have been patient with her?"
Nightfrost shut his jaws, his pelt rippling. Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes - she understood where Silverstream was coming from, especially given that she had also been a mother in a difficult situation. What made it worse was that Mistyfoot agreed with her somewhat - Daisy's worth needed to be made clear sooner rather than later, for her own sake.
"Whatever Daisy decides, I won't abandon her if she can be helped," Nightfrost decided. He swept his tongue across his muzzle, meeting Silverstream's imperious blue gaze with his own. "She deserves a chance at this life, and ThunderClan is the best place to get one."
Silverstream seemed satisfied with that answer, as she didn't respond further. Mistyfoot was glad for it, even gladder that Nightfrost had stood his ground against the older she-cat. They finished their meals and buried the bones, continuing on their way.
The area surrounding the training glade was clear of traps, but the clearing itself had one almost right in its center. Mistyfoot didn't like what that implied, but she allowed Nightfrost and Silverstream time to memorize its scent and the signs of its presence before she showed them how to deal with it, dragging out a stick from between some spindly roots to demonstrate the danger.
Both cats flinched at the sound of it snapping hard around the stick, breaking it neatly in two.
"Great StarClan," Silverstream hissed. "That poor kitten!"
Exactly, Mistyfoot thought.
With the thicker half of the stick, Mistyfoot demonstrated how to unclench the trap's shiny jaws, and once it seemed like Nightfrost and Silverstream had enough practice, she used the remains of the stick to spring the trap and drag it out of the clearing.
"Do you think the Twoleg who put it here will come back for it?" Nightfrost wondered. He sprayed a sharp marker by the broken trap, the smell a pungent warning.
"No idea," Mistyfoot admitted. "This might not be the best way to handle the traps, but it would do for now." She looked up at the sky - it was sunhigh already, but the hardest part was over. "Let's keep going."
They carefully made their way toward the ShadowClan border, all their senses straining for any sign of a trap. They took the most established hunting trails - there wasn't enough time in the day to go down every single path - and found a few more traps. They were disarmed, dragged away, and marked.
"I think I've noticed something about these traps," Silverstream mentioned after the third they found near the shallow stream that made up half the border with ShadowClan. "They're set up in very specific places."
"I think I've seen it, too," Mistyfoot admitted. She best to lick a stubborn clod of dirt out from between her toes. "They're always set up on prey trails."
"Not just any prey trails," Nightfrost huffed. He shook a leaf from his flank. "Mouse trails."
"Exactly," Silverstream agreed, nodding her head. "And in more open areas, too."
"Seems like the Twolegs are trying to trap the foxes while they're busy hunting," Nightfrost guessed. "It'd be the best time to get them."
Mistyfoot nodded along. "That's a good theory," she agreed. "We'll have to ask if Mousefur's patrol was seeing the same thing."
"They might even see fewer traps out their way," Silverstream pointed out. "Rabbits tend to run more than mice over towards the moorland."
"We'll need to be careful, though," Nightfrost added. "All these traps mean that foxes must frequent this area despite the risk they pose. We'll need to keep an eye out for them."
"I agree," Mistyfoot mewed. She didn't like the idea of more foxes in her territory, but knowing where they were more likely to show up would be very helpful in dealing with them in the future. A fox and a trap could both kill a cat, but at least one didn't stumble into a fox unexpectedly.
Silverstream sighed, glancing downstream towards the shimmering lake. "This place is certainly different from the old forest, that's for sure..." she murmured. She shook her muzzle slightly and added, talking louder, "I know that's not quite fair, but ever since what happened to Onewhisker and Barkface, it just feels like I'm always being watched."
"I know what you mean," Nightfrost mumbled. He swept his tail around his paws. "I just wish we'd learned who did it. Even if they never returned, that would at least make things feel better."
Mistyfoot swallowed, nodding in agreement. There was always that risk hanging over their heads, and after discovering cat-scent around that hole at the Moonpool, Mistyfoot wondered about what secrets this land was hiding from them - and who knew of them already.
Mistyfoot called off their search for fox traps when the sky darkened. It would be difficult to handle them with their vision obscured by night, and all three of them were dusty and paw-sore from scouring the territory. They had found three more traps, each in clearings near places rich in mouse-scent, which made their theory from earlier in the day seem even more certain.
Even if we didn't get all of them, we still did a great job, Mistyfoot thought, proud of herself and her patrol. She would sleep much easier tonight, even if Bluestar decided it was time for more training.
"I wonder how often the Twolegs will check these traps," Nightfrost wondered, stretching. His belly and paws were turning gray from digging up sticks and traps. "Especially if we're getting rid of them."
"I hope it isn't often," Silverstream sighed. "I'd hate to be out here every other day."
"I doubt that," Mistyfoot meowed. "There aren't many Twolegs around here to begin with, and now that we've settled in, we'll be keeping the foxes in check. They'll soon learn this is Clan land, and that it's not worth messing with."
Silverstream stretched out her back legs. "Well, can we teach them that lesson tomorrow?" she wondered. "I'm exhausted."
Mistyfoot purred in agreement. They had stopped beside the Sky Oak, and if they were to get back in time for a decent meal, they'd need to get going. The wind changed then, and as Mistyfoot breathed in to suggest they get going, a scent crossed her nose, faint but familiar, tugging on the fringes of her whiskers like a playful kitten and building up a sneeze from between her eyes.
"You two head back," Mistyfoot meowed, trying not to embarrass herself, "I'm going to catch up."
"Something wrong?" Nightfrost wondered, his gaze concerned.
Mistyfoot shook her head. "No, it's okay," she mewed, hoping her hesitation sounded genuine, "I just, ah, I'd like to make dirt, and..."
"Okay, okay, we're going," Silverstream insisted, interrupting her. She waved her striped tail and said, "C'mon, Nightfrost, let's go."
Mistyfoot's pelt prickled with embarrassment as she watched the two trot off. It was an easy enough excuse, but she wished she'd come up with something better. She turned towards the border, her jaws open - she wondered if she had lost the scent, but another trickle of wind brought it back, making her eyes sting. Mistyfoot followed it, her spine stiff, uncertain what she'd find.
It wasn't ShadowClan scent; that was clear. It was distinct enough from the border as it followed the scent line further inland. Her claws flexed as she drew closer to the scent's source. What would she find?
The trail rounded the thick trunk of an oak, and Mistyfoot dropped into a crouch, anticipating a stranger - instead, as she crept around the roots, she saw a sight almost identical to what she had seen before at the Moonpool - a hole nestled right up against the base of the tree, widened by claws, with soft, fresh earth scattered around its ridge.
It must've been a fox den, Mistyfoot thought. She couldn't help but sneeze then and waited with bated breath to find out if or not she had been discovered. Only the quiet silence of the night greeted her.
Heart thudding in her ears, Mistyfoot plunged her head into the hole. She had only intended to take a few quick sniffs to better identify the scent, but her paws slid on the soft earth, and she found herself tumbling down into the darkness face-first.
It took her a moment to get her bearings. When she lifted her head, her ears brushed against the stringy roots of the tree above. Mistyfoot got to her paws and shook the dirt from her pelt, looking back the way she'd come - the hole was still there, a bright, burning sun compared to the deep gloom around her.
She turned away from the light, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness naturally. Slowly but surely, she realized she was inside a small, round cavern carved out by whatever creature had lived here before, with a ceiling made of hard earth and tree roots. There was no evidence of an occupant, but that faint cat-scent meandered its way towards the darkest part of the cave near the back.
Mistyfoot swallowed. Her instincts told her to go back, that this was ridiculous of her to do alone - but she knew she wouldn't forgive herself if she abandoned her discovery now. Besides, the faint scent of the strange cat was enough to tell her that whoever it was, they hadn't been there for a day at least, and down here, the urge to sneeze was lessened.
She crept towards the darkness, feeling a rush of cool air against the whiskers. Just like at the Moonpool! she thought, pricking her ears curiously. That meant that there was an exit somewhere close.
The source of the air was another, slightly smaller hole. Mistyfoot hesitated at its entrance, concerned for the stability of the earth around her - but the ground here was solid and well-worn, and when Mistyfoot stepped into the tunnel, it was the same. Gathering her nerve, she continued with nothing but the hope of an exit and her whiskers to guide her.
It didn't feel like she'd gone far when a light appeared ahead and illuminated the dirt walls around it. Mistyfoot hurried, her pelt prickling with discomfort at how alien this whole thing was.
The tunnel floor curved up sharply close to the exit, and when Mistyfoot poked her head above ground, she gasped in shock.
She was in ShadowClan territory!
Stunned, she couldn't help but stare. She seemed to be just across the border, hidden beneath the shade of a dogwood bush. The strong scent of the bogland and pine needles clogged her nose. The hole, at least, was on more solid ground.
Mistyfoot plunged her head back down before she was discovered. Her heart thundered in her ears now - there was a hole in ThunderClan territory that led right across the border. How had that happened? Had this always been here?
Where did the hole at the Moonpool lead?
Mistyfoot swallowed. She couldn't stay. Her scent would lead to this place's discovery on the ShadowClan side, and right now, that was the last thing she wanted. She shimmied backward until she felt she had enough room to turn around and then nearly bolted out of the tunnel.
She scrambled back out from beneath the oak tree on the ThunderClan side a moment later, her head spinning in shock. She wasn't any closer to learning who that strange scent belonged to, but it had led her to this, and she wasn't sure what that would mean.
I need to tell Tinystar, she thought. She could feel her limbs begin to tremble. He'll know what to do.
"Oh, hey, there you are!" Nightfrost mewed, his tone cheerful.
"Did you get lost?" Silverstream wondered, her head tilted.
Mistyfoot wasn't sure how to respond. She had rushed back to camp as quickly as her paws would take her, the moon rising just as she pushed through the thorn tunnel. Mousefur's patrol had returned safe and sound, as had every other one, and Silverstream and Nightfrost were swapping their reports with Cinderpelt and Swiftfoot when they finally noticed her.
"Mistyfoot?" Nightfrost wondered, taking a step toward her. "Are you okay?"
Mistyfoot felt very aware of every cat's eyes on her. Quickly, she steadied her breathing and lifted her chin. Project strength, she told herself. You're their deputy. It was a piece of Bluestar's advice, and thankfully, it worked - on every cat but Nightfrost, who crept closer, his pale eyes clouded with worry.
"Misty?" he edged.
Mistyfoot swallowed. "I'm okay," she insisted. "I just ended up distracted by the border after I was done. That's all."
"Is everything okay on the border?" Nightfrost wondered.
Mistyfoot hesitated only a second. "It is," she said. It wasn't a total lie. Tinystar would be able to help her figure it out, she knew. "I'm going to go and report to Tinystar about the traps. Is he in his den?"
"He is," Nightfrost answered.
He stepped aside, but Mistyfoot felt his eyes on her as she trotted towards the Highledge. She took the steps one at a time, trying to project strength and calmness, the image of the perfect deputy - if she did that enough, she thought, perhaps she would believe it, too.
She announced herself on the Highledge, and Tinystar welcomed her in. It was cold inside his den, and the thick stone walls reminded Mistyfoot of the tunnel, even if the space was much, much larger and more solid in comparison.
Tinystar was in his nest, and the remains of his dinner were arranged just off to the side to be taken care of later. Mistyfoot dipped her head to him.
"So, how did the trap patrol go?" Tinystar wondered, his tone hopeful. "Mousefur's report was promising enough."
"Good," Mistyfoot responded. She tried to be quick and concise in her report, adding, "We think we might have discovered a pattern to their placement, but we'll have to see if it holds true throughout the season."
Tinystar looked relieved. "That's good," he breathed. "I shudder to think of one of us getting caught in one of those things. I'm glad you've handled it - you'll have to teach me how to take care of them sometime!"
"I will," Mistyfoot promised, though the idea of Tinystar being caught in one of those traps terrified her. "Tinystar, there's something else."
Tinystar blinked. "I guessed something else might be on your mind," he admitted, his tone mild. He waved his tail in invitation. "Tell me, Mistyfoot."
"There's an oak tree near the ShadowClan border, not far from the Sky Oak," Mistyfoot explained. "Beneath it, I found a hole."
Tinystar flicked his ear skeptically. "Don't tell me you stuck your head down it, now..."
Mistyfoot hesitated. "I did, yes," she admitted, embarrassed. "But only because I scented something odd about it - a cat scent I didn't recognize that seemed to have been there before."
Tinystar's icy gaze darkened, and he nodded for her to go on.
"There wasn't anything living in the den I found," Mistyfoot reported, "but I ended up following that scent through another tunnel, which had an exit in ShadowClan territory."
The small black tom's ears pricked. "Really, now?"
Mistyfoot nodded. "I found something similar by the Moonpool, too, but I didn't go inside it. Same scent, too."
Tinystar's tail-tip twitched against the stone floor for a long moment. Mistyfoot stared at her leader, wondering what he might say about this. She knew he was thinking about this seriously from the look in his eye.
Finally, Tinystar meowed, "Keep this to yourself for now, Mistyfoot," he meowed softly. "The less cats who know about something like this, the better."
Mistyfoot swallowed. "Yes, Tinystar."
"I'm going to think about this and what to do next," Tinystar promised, his words careful and measured, "but until then, I want you to keep an eye out for any more of these tunnels. Don't go down them if you can help it. We can't risk looking like invaders if you pop up in another Clan's territory."
"Of course," Mistyfoot agreed.
"Go and rest," Tinystar urged. "You've earned it, Mistyfoot. You've done a great job today."
Mistyfoot turned to go.
"Mistyfoot?" Tinystar meowed.
"Yes, Tinystar?" Mistyfoot wondered, looking over her shoulder.
Her leader had a very serious look on his face. "If you scent that stranger anywhere on our territory, let me know immediately."
Mistyfoot felt a chill ripple down her spine at the intensity of Tinystar's gaze. She nodded to him, then hurried out of his den, her heart racing.