Dark River

Fresh frustration flared in Hollypaw’s pelt. “There doesn’t have to be a battle!”

“Of course there doesn’t,” Leafpool assured her. “When I spoke to Mothwing at the Gathering, she said that RiverClan was dealing with their problem. But if they can’t solve it, we have to be ready.”

“But if we helped them,” Hollypaw mewed, “then they’d be okay.”

Leafpool shook her head. “We must trust RiverClan to sort it out themselves.”

“Leafpool’s right,” Firestar meowed. “Besides, helping RiverClan would mean crossing WindClan territory.”

“Or ShadowClan’s,” Sandstorm added.

Leafpool ran her tail down Hollypaw’s flank. “And that would only make things worse, wouldn’t it?”

Hollypaw shied away from Leafpool, bristling. She didn’t need to be soothed, like a kit having a bad dream! Why couldn’t they take her seriously?

“Isn’t Brackenfur waiting for you?” Sandstorm prompted.

“You mustn’t fall behind with your training,” Firestar reminded her.

Hollypaw turned and stamped out of the cave. Pebbles clacked under her paws as she bounded down the rocks to the clearing.

“Wait!”

Hollypaw glanced backward.

Leafpool was hurrying after her. “I can see you’re upset.”

Hollypaw turned on her. “Why won’t any of you listen?”

“You must remember,” Leafpool soothed, “we all have more experience than you. You have to trust us to know what’s right.”

“StarClan would want us to help RiverClan,” Hollypaw mewed.

“You can’t be sure of that.” Leafpool blinked. “I know you’re worried about Willowpaw, but you’re training to be a warrior now. It’s not appropriate to have such close friends in other Clans.”

Hollypaw glared at her. This isn’t about Willowpaw. This is about the future of all four Clans! She searched Leafpool’s gaze and found only a gentle concern. I’m wasting my breath!

“Go and find Brackenfur,” Leafpool suggested. “He’s heading for the training hollow.”

“I know where he is,” Hollypaw hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure he must be expecting you.” Leafpool touched Hollypaw’s cheek with her nose, then padded away.

Hollypaw flexed her claws. If she could find out exactly what was happening in RiverClan, perhaps then she could convince Firestar to help, and the Clans wouldn’t need to fight.

She had to talk to Willowpaw.

She darted through the entrance tunnel, thorns scraping her pelt. Outside the camp, she glanced around. No one was there. She hurried into the trees, away from the training hollow, and headed up the ridge toward the WindClan border.

“Squirrel!”

Birchfall’s excited yowl pierced the air. Hollypaw dived into a patch of ferns, pressing her belly to the ground. Paw steps were pounding toward her. She peeped through the green fronds and saw Birchfall and Ashfur skidding down the slope. Lionpaw was racing behind them, his tail fluffed out.

She ducked back into the foliage and held her breath. The ferns rustled around her as the patrol whisked past less than a tail-length away.

Hollypaw screwed her eyes shut. Don’t let them see me!

Heart pounding, she heard their paw steps fade into the forest. Relief washed her pelt and she crept from her hiding place and started up the slope. Ears pricked and nose twitching, she ran over the top of the ridge and headed down, out of the trees, and across the bumpy grass to the WindClan border. Her paws trembled as the tang of WindClan hit her nose. This border had been recently marked.

Hollypaw scanned the heather-swathed slope that rose up to the high moorland.

No sign of any patrols.

Tail trembling, she padded across the scent line. Rain was beginning to fall from the dove-gray sky. It’ll help cover my scent, she thought, relieved as the drops began to soak her fur. She padded through the heather, heading downhill toward the lake, and scrambled down from the peaty earth onto the pebbly shore. Keeping low, she scooted to the water’s edge. Just to be on the safe side, she waded through the shallows. The water would disguise her scent even more. She shivered with cold as the waves lapped her belly fur, but at least WindClan wouldn’t suspect a ThunderClan cat had trespassed on their territory.

The rain fell harder, hissing against the surface of the lake. Droplets streamed from her whiskers. Hollypaw glanced toward the moorland rising from the shore, praying that, if a patrol appeared from the heather, her black pelt would appear only as sodden driftwood against the gray water. She saw reeds begin to dot the shore up ahead; she was nearing RiverClan territory. She quickened her pace. She could hide more easily among the rushes. Pebbles turned to mud beneath her paws and she smelled the strong scent of RiverClan. Padding out of the shallows she crept into the reed bed, thankful to be out of the water and hidden by the towering rushes.

Suddenly, a yowl sounded ahead.

Hollypaw froze and sniffed the air. Fresh warrior scent. A hunting party?