Mistystar’s Omen

“Don’t climb up after it!” Mistystar warned. RiverClan cats most definitely did not belong in trees. “Wait until it comes down!”

Pebblefoot scraped his claws impatiently down the trunk. There was a brief gray blur, and the squirrel dropped down from one of the lower branches and set off across the marsh, its fluffy tail bobbing behind it. Pebblefoot tore after it, sending scraps of grass and mud flying up from his hind paws. With a start, Mistystar realized he was running too fast to see where he was.

“Stop, Pebblefoot!” she screeched. “You’re too close to the border!”

Reedwhisker bounded after his Clanmate, but the squirrel leaped the final tussock of marsh grass onto the smooth, cropped surface of WindClan’s territory and took off up the slope. Pebblefoot raced after it, straight into a patrol of shocked-looking WindClan cats who had just appeared around the side of the hill. A brown warrior named Antpelt sprang forward to block his path.

“Trespasser! Prey thief!” he screeched.

Chapter 6

“He’s not stealing prey!” Mistystar yowled, pounding past the scent markers and skidding to a halt beside her startled Clanmate.

“I’m sorry,” Pebblefoot puffed. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Antpelt’s hackles rose. “Oh, I think you knew exactly where you were going,” he sneered. “Onto territory with better prey than yours!” His eyes raked over the RiverClan warriors, and Mistystar winced as she saw their scrawny frames through an outsider’s eyes. It was painfully obvious that the RiverClan cats hadn’t had a proper meal in moons.

Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, stepped forward. “Mistystar, I heard about Leopardstar’s death, and I am truly sorry. But what are you doing, letting your warriors stray onto our territory? Did you forget to replace your border markers?”

Her tone was gentle, but Mistystar heard reproach beneath it. What kind of leader allowed her own patrol to cross a boundary? “I’m sorry, Ashfoot,” she meowed, struggling to keep her fur flat. “It was a genuine mistake. Pebblefoot just got carried away chasing that squirrel.”

“Well, it’s ours now,” Antpelt put in. “So you can remove your mangy pelts from our territory before we make you.” He raised one front paw and let his claws slide out. Pebblefoot glared at him, with the fur rising along his spine.

“Antpelt, enough!” ordered Ashfoot. “Mistystar, take your cats home. I suggest you renew the border markers to remind your warriors to hunt inside their own territory in future.”

Feeling her pelt burn with shame, Mistystar dipped her head. “Yes, Ashfoot. May StarClan light your path.”

“And yours,” Ashfoot mewed briefly before summoning her warriors with a sweep of her tail. “Antpelt, put your claws away. Come on, back to camp.”

The WindClan cats raced away over the turf, their bellies low enough to brush the grass. Mistystar led her Clanmates back to the border and didn’t stop until they were well past the markers—which were plenty strong enough. Pebblefoot was still bristling.

“Antpelt treated us like mangy rats,” he fumed. “And how dare Ashfoot tell you to renew the border markers? You’re a leader! She’s only a deputy!”

Mistystar sighed. “She was just making a point, Pebblefoot. You did cross the boundary, after all. Let’s see if we can catch something that doesn’t run into a different Clan, okay?”

She watched her warriors spread out across the marsh, lifting their paws high to avoid tripping over the tussocks, and flattening their ears as they tried to pick up the scent of prey. We train to catch fish, not mice and voles, she thought. We’re as hopeless as kits on dry land. Oh, StarClan, why are you letting us starve?

Three sunrises later, with the fresh-kill pile still pitifully small, Mistystar spotted the faint outline of a half-moon floating between the clouds. That night the medicine cats from all four Clans would gather at the Moonpool to share tongues with StarClan. Mistystar cast her mind back to previous half-moons, realizing that she could hardly remember one when Mothwing hadn’t sent Willowshine in her place on the excuse that a sick or kit-heavy cat needed her to stay in the Clan. How had Leopardstar not realized that Mothwing was neglecting so many of her responsibilities?

After a day of fruitless hunting in the bushes around the camp, Mistystar settled outside her den and waited for one of the medicine cats to leave. She saw Mothwing emerge from between the rocks, and for a moment Mistystar thought the golden cat might be making one last attempt to prove her right to be RiverClan’s medicine cat. But then Willowshine padded out behind her.

“Thank Jayfeather for the herbs,” Mothwing instructed. “And ask Kestrelflight if Tornear’s cough cleared up with the poultice of bright-eye and lovage.”