IVYFLOWER

Ivyflower took her place among the queens and senior warriors beneath the drooping branches of the Old Willow, leafless and curtained with long icicles. She'd grown up being told that the Father Oak in LeafClan territory was the oldest and very first tree to ever take root, but MeadowClan had their own stories. Sitting by its rough and shaggy trunk, it seemed to reach up, and up, and up, its long arms spanning the length of the entire MeadowClan camp.

In newleaf, it was the very first tree in MeadowClan territory to bloom again, flowering with long catkins. By the time the greenleaf heat came around, the Old Willow cloaked the camp in its shade, making ripples of light dance across the pillowy grass. And then, when her hair turned to yellow and gilded copper, they gathered leaves into piles for the kits.

The dead leaves would choke the flowing waters around the forked stream, making the banks come alive with frog-song after nightfall. But even now, after all these moons, she hated wading through that water in the leaf-bare. Her MeadowClan-born clanmates hardly seemed bothered; even their kits would jump and splash in the freezing shallows with high delighted shrieks.

And this was just one camp, the main and central camp. But they had other, smaller camps nestled along the borders and far-flung corners of their territory, filled by a patrol's worth of warriors and apprentices at a time, constantly rotating out as assigned by Lilystar and Morningsky.

A border patrol took on a whole other meaning here. If it were not for the ancillary camps dotted through the grasslands, careful enough outsiders could almost live undetected. The vastness of the prairie was still hard for her to grasp, after all this time.

But it was a cold dusk overhead now, with no sound but the whistling wind over the grasslands.

Hunched and wizened elders gathered around the tree. One gazed at her with a milky eye, before turning to murmur in their denmate's ear. Ivyflower did not deign to notice.

Lilystar sat in the crook of the Old Willow, his medicine cat and deputy flanking him, as well as his kits, his mate Ducktail, and the senior warriors. His kits weren't kits any longer, but young warriors; Thistleteeth, Rainripple, and Pikestripe, talking close together. Pikestripe gave a baneful laugh at some private joke, strident to her ears against the camp's current quiet, darkening atmosphere.

The river had frozen along the LeafClan border, and after two nights away, the border patrol had returned with reports of many, many trespassing LeafClan scents. That, and the frightening account Raggedweed had retold in camp, had put them all on edge.

"There can be no doubt now," Lilystar said, gazing around at his deputy and senior warriors. "LeafClan comes with their full power, and there is no telling how far they might go in their desperation. Plumberry, Hailfall, Cinderfrost, and Bristlefur, and you Pikestripe; you will lead patrols along the breadth of the territory, and find and intercept this raiding party before it threatens the main camp. I want you to each take our battle-trained apprentices as runners, to send messages between every garrisoned camp and converge our full strength on the LeafClan cats when they are found."

She felt her hackles rise as Lilystar named her mate, glancing anxiously toward the spiky-haired brown tabby. Bristlefur just returned a slow, reassuring blink of his orange eyes, smiling. She never thought she'd love again, after Rosestar. Neither did she think she'd have a Clan again, a life again, dreams again, but she had found a new home here.

But would her birth Clan threaten that all now? Her stomach did somersaults at the idea of all her clanmates at each other's throats, once again.

"Then let's garrison the camps, but let's do it with no show of fear," Pikestripe said languidly, twitching his whiskers. "No more than if we heard that LeafClan were busy chasing their own tails. Their numbers are so few, weak and starving, and their leader is such a soft do-nothing kittypet of no reputation, that fear would be foolish." He smirked, showing a flash of fangs. "This will be good for MeadowClan. Long peace can dull a warrior's claws. I say we welcome them."

Morningsky stood now, the deputy's golden eyes flashing. "Quiet, Pikestripe!" she said, verging on a growl. "You are much mistaken in this LeafClan leader."

The young warrior only rolled green eyes, but the deputy turned to Lilystar directly now. "Ask Raggedweed with what bearing he received our messengers, surrounded by battle-tested warriors, and how terrible in his resolution."

"Well, it's not so, Morningsky," Pikestripe said with a roll of his shoulders and flick of his tail. "But whether you think so shouldn't change our approach. It's best to weigh the enemy as mightier than they seem, no?"

Lilystar stood now, tail lashing. "Then think LeafClan strong," he said, voice turned stony as he surveyed his senior warriors. "And MeadowClan, see that you meet them strongly. They are bred out of that bloody strain that haunted us in our own territories before."

Ivyflower blinked, and she could hardly believe it, but the refined MeadowClan leader's voice grew strained and choked with emotion.

"Remember our eternal shame, when last we did battle with LeafClan," he said. "And all our warriors slain by the claw of that cursed name… Blackfang."

He spat it out with loathing, a curse forced through grit teeth. The aged leader's shoulders trembled with quiet rage.

The name so familiar to her seemed to suck the oxygen from the camp. Some cats raised their hackles, others murmured mutedly between themselves. Embercloud, among the older senior warriors, seemed to force his eyes closed as if in pain. One of the elders gave a low moan.

Lilystar let it hang in the air, his voice dropping lower. "This is a stem of that victorious stalk, and let us fear the wrath of LeafClan." And his eyes drooped to his paws, lost, as if his spirit had fled its shell to fight the battle in the muddy hollow again.

"LeafClan cats!"

The shout from the camp entrance that next morning made Ivyflower jolt, swiveling her head from where she shared tongues with the other queens.

Already, cats were gathering around the base of the Old Willow as Lilystar took his place in the seat of the tree.

"The two LeafClan warriors we talked about, I'm sure," Morningsky said to Lilystar as she took her place beside him. But her face curdled as it was a tall, well-muscled gray warrior appearing through the screen of reeds, accompanied by a young brown she-cat.

"You see this hunt is hotly followed, friends," Lilystar murmured. Boulderstep held his head high, unbothered by the hostile glares that rained on him from every corner of MeadowClan camp.

"We are not prey to be hunted," Pikestripe sneered. "Father, we ought to chase them out and show them just how dangerous our Clan is."

Raggedweed hissed, "They are accompanied by a medicine cat."

The LeafClan deputy boldly approached Lilystar, the medicine cat apprentice trotting at his heels.

"A message from Sunstar?" Lilystar questioned evenly, as Boulderstep stopped at the base of the Old Willow.

"From him, and so he greets you," Boulderstep mewed, yellow eyes flashing. "He wills you, in the name of StarClan, that you peacefully surrender the hunting grounds owned by LeafClan during the leadership of Stormstar. These territories, necessary for the survival of our Clan, shall remain ours forevermore."

"Or else what follows?" Lilystar said, unmoved.

"Blood and tears," Boulderstep answered, as a ripple of hisses and murmurs spread through the MeadowClan camp. "For as long as you defy him, he will hunt for you, and wherever you hide, there will he rake. He comes in fierce tempest, in thunder and in earthquake, like a lion, until you are compelled to let LeafClan live in peace under these terms. And he bids you to take mercy on your clanmates, on all those who will join their ancestors in Silverpelt should you resist this just demand."

His yellow gaze flicked around before settling down back on Lilystar. "This is his claim, his threatening, and my message. We also return a gift, in exchange for your own."

The MeadowClan leader stood up now. "A gift, you say? What gift have I rendered you?"

Boulderstep whipped his tail. "Do you claim not to know? Or does your medicine cat not speak with your voice?"

Ivyflower saw Rainripple and Thistleteeth exchange a glance, as Pikestripe glanced furtively around. But finally, the young warrior stepped up, eyes hard.

"That gift came from me," Pikestripe snarled, as Lilystar narrowed his eyes from atop the Old Willow. "What about it, from him?"

The broad-shouldered deputy glared the younger gray tabby down. "Scorn. Defiance. Slight regard, contempt, and anything that might not become a warrior, does he prize you at."

Pikestripe almost quivered with rage now, green eyes wide. "Say, if my father renders a fair reply, it is against my will, because I desire nothing but odds with LeafClan! To that end, matching his vanity, I sent him the moss balls and kittypet bell."

"You'll make your Old Willow weep for it," Boulderstep mewed flatly. "And be assured you'll see the difference, and be as wonderstruck as his clanmates, between the promise of his greener days and those he masters now."

He looked around again, and caught her gaze. Her old clanmate's eyes lingered on her for a long moment, but betrayed no expression. Only a silent marking that made her shiver.

Lilystar lashed his tail in dismissal. "Soon, you'll fully know our mind."

"Send us back soon, before my leader comes himself to question our delay," the deputy said. Elmpaw sidled close beside him, the young she-cat almost dwarfed by the brawny gray tom. "LeafClan is already setting the new border markers."

"You will be sent back shortly with fair conditions," Lilystar said, his voice cutting like a flint's edge. "This is not LeafClan where we kill to settle our feuds, or slaughter medicine cats in peace negotiations."

Boulderstep left their camp before sunhigh. And of course, Lilystar sent Poppypetal and a patrol of trackers to stalk after his scent trail from a distance, back to Sunstar's war party. The other patrol leaders were gone before sundown, streaming in all directions across the vast grasslands.

But when the LeafClan cats had cleared away, Lilystar stepped into Pikestripe's face, making him shrink back from the leader's snarl, suddenly kit-eyed.

"You presume to speak for MeadowClan?" Lilystar hissed. "Never go around your leader's back again, and it's a wonder Raggedweed enabled your foolishness. Snowtuft will lead the patrol in your place."

"But Snowtuft is deaf!" he groaned. "I am ready for this!"

"She could be blind too, and still have twice your awareness. You could do well by following her example, and perform your duties without wagging your tongue."

So Lilystar retreated back to the leader's den, as Pikestripe sat moodily in the grass. Rainripple gave him teasing encouragement as Snowtuft silently singled out warriors with her tail.

The siblings Plumberry and Embercloud were sharing some quiet words together before leading a party through the reeds. Embercloud's daughter, dappled gray Cinderfrost, had been chosen as another patrol leader, and Ivyflower thought she strutted about rather rooster-like. Bravado, or high nerves, or a mix of both.

For Bristlefur, she could only stall him for so long with goodbyes and brushes on the cheek. Finally, she just had to settle with, "Come home safe."

She watched the patrols go, one by one. And every single one, a war party of its own.

Hunters found the corpse before nightfall, and asked Ivyflower to identify him. A bluish-gray tom with LeafClan's scent, already stiff and striped with frost, left by the bank of a stream. No other scents could be tracked across the frigid waters, only the faint scent of lavender, but the warrior had a vicious gash across his throat. The blood congealed in dark clumps, little ice crystals flowering in the wound.

Ivyflower had never summoned the courage to attend the Gatherings at Clawtower, even after all this time. What she'd do when she saw her old clanmates, what she'd feel, she couldn't be sure. It could go a million different directions.

But even after so many moons, and being so grown now, the recognition was instantaneous. Bluekit. Although she'd never laid eyes on him, she knew he was Bluenose now, but he'd been frozen as that little bundle of blue fur in her mind all these moons. Memories of warm greenleaf nights outside the nursery, chattering with the queens. Shrewnose's little Bluekit, barely old enough to wander out the nursery on his own when Rosestar was leader.

She watched Shrewnose's belly swell, stood beside her and Mousespots, Longscar, and Rooktuft in the nursery during her birth.

"Bluenose…" she said faintly, fighting the urge to retch. "Who killed him? One of ours?"

Morningsky seemed to recognize him just as well, grimacing at the sight. She padded around him, sniffing, before reaching beneath the body and pulling out a long, red strand. A kittypet's red collar, chiming with a bell.

"No," Morningsky growled. "This is LeafClan's gift to us."