Eclipse

That’s unfair! Where would any of the Clans be now if it weren’t for Firestar? Lionpaw dug his claws into the loose rock to stop himself from leaping at the WindClan leader’s throat.

Firestar leaped down from Highledge, landing lightly, and padded toward Onestar. The Clans drew back to let him pass.

He stopped, unblinking, a whisker away from the WindClan leader. “If you want a battle,” he growled, “then you have one.”

Onestar flicked his tail and Lionpaw tensed, ready to push Longtail and Mousefur up to safety when the camp exploded once more into battle. But, to his astonishment, the WindClan cats turned and swarmed out through the thorn tunnel, their paw steps fading into the forest as the barrier grew still.

“Ha!” Icepaw bounded forward. “They’re too scared to fight us!”

Dustpelt narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “Why go to the trouble of attacking at night and then leave? They had the advantage. We were totally unprepared.”

“We’re not unprepared now,” Foxpaw mewed, flicking his back legs out in a well-rehearsed battle move.

“I want a patrol to follow them,” Firestar ordered. “I want to be sure they’ve left our territory.”

“I’ll go!” Dustpelt volunteered at once.

Firestar nodded. “Take Birchfall, Cloudtail…” He glanced around his Clan.

Lionpaw leaned forward.

“…Ashfur and Lionpaw, you go with them.”

Yes! Lionpaw bounded down the rocks.

“Is anyone wounded?” Firestar called. Leafpool and Jaypaw were already weaving among the warriors, bundles of herbs in their jaws.

Whitewing was licking the blood spatters from her pelt.

Firestar looked at her anxiously. “Whitewing?”

“Just a few scratches,” she meowed. “Mostly WindClan blood.”

“Good.” Firestar nodded. “I want you to lead a patrol to the ShadowClan border to make sure all’s quiet there. Take Brackenfur and Sorreltail.”

Hollypaw padded forward. “Can I go?”

“Yes,” Firestar agreed. “Icepaw, you go with them too.” He looked at Graystripe, who was still guarding the nursery.

“Do you want me to go?” Graystripe volunteered.

“No,” Firestar answered. “We need strong warriors to protect the camp in case WindClan return, and I can’t think of anyone who would defend the nursery more fiercely than you.

“Brambleclaw!” He turned to his deputy. “Why wasn’t the entrance guarded tonight?”

Brambleclaw’s gaze darkened. “The extra patrols have stretched us to the limit.”

“Guard it now,” Firestar told him. “From now on, it will be guarded day and night, patrols or no patrols. We shall just have to manage on less sleep till this danger passes.”

Mewling sounded from the nursery, and Graystripe stiffened. Brightheart popped her head out. “The kits are frightened but they’re all okay.”

Toadkit slid out beside her. “I wanted to see the battle!”

Brightheart grabbed him by the scruff and scooped him back inside.

“Sandstorm.” Firestar turned to his mate. “The thorn barrier must be strengthened. We’ll weave in all the extra brambles we can find. I want everyone working together.”

Sandstorm dipped her head.

Lionpaw raced to the entrance, where Dustpelt was already waiting with Cloudtail. Ashfur and Birchfall joined them.

Dustpelt flicked his tail. “Ready?”

Cloudtail nodded. Birchfall kneaded the ground. Lionpaw could hardly keep his paws still. He wanted to watch WindClan as they fled like cowards over the border.

“Come on.” Dustpelt turned and pounded into the forest, and Lionpaw followed, blood roaring in his ears.

The woods smelled of WindClan, and Lionpaw wrinkled his nose. Warriors? They were nothing but thieves and bullies.

Perhaps we’ll catch them before they reach the border. His paws itched for battle. He would beat WindClan just like he’d beaten the mountain cats. They were both scrawny bunches of prey-stealers.

Cloudtail raced into the lead, signaling for the patrol to slow down. He was the Clan’s best tracker; no WindClan scent would escape him. He led them straight for the border, stopping and sniffing at twigs and leaves before nodding and moving on to the next scent.

As they neared WindClan’s part of the forest, he halted beside a low-spreading yew. He sniffed it and then turned his head, ears pricking. Padding into a dip, he sniffed at a bramble and frowned. He jumped onto the bank, which led down to the border stream, and opened his mouth to draw in scent.

Shaking his head, he glanced back at his Clanmates.

“What is it?” Dustpelt demanded.

“They split up here,” Cloudtail meowed.

Dustpelt flattened his ears. “They did what?”

Cloudtail flicked his tail toward the yew. “One group went that way.”

Toward the old Thunderpath! An ominous feeling rumbled in Lionpaw’s belly.

“Another went that way.” Cloudtail was pointing his nose toward the lake. “And the other—”

Birchfall cut him off. “The other?”

Cloudtail was looking upstream. “The other group has gone deeper into the woods,” he finished.

Lionpaw gulped. That was where the tunnel entrance lay.