Sunrise

Brambleclaw rested his tail-tip on Lionblaze’s shoulder. “I can see you’re not,” he mewed. “Is there anything you want to tell me? You know you can always come and talk to me.”

For a couple of heartbeats Lionblaze froze. Does Brambleclaw suspect me of killing Ashfur?

“It’s hard to lose a cat you were close to,” Brambleclaw went on. “But I promised you before, his death will not go unavenged.”

He unsheathed his long, curved claws and sank them into the floor of the hollow. Lionblaze flinched, imagining those claws tearing into the throat of the guilty cat….

“If I find the cat who did this,” Brambleclaw growled softly, “they will regret taking the life of a warrior and my Clanmate.”

He turned away, padding toward the Highledge, but before he reached the foot of the rock fall, Firestar appeared from his den. He paused for a moment, looking down into the clearing; the pale sun of leaf-bare touched his pelt, turning it to flame. Then he bounded lightly down the stones to join Brambleclaw and Lionblaze. He nodded to the group of cats surrounding Thornclaw.

“What’s happening?” he queried.

“Some of the Clan want to lead an attack on WindClan,” Brambleclaw reported. “I didn’t know we had so many mouse-brains in ThunderClan.”

Firestar twitched his ears. “It’s hard to accept the death of a warrior,” he meowed loudly. “But this isn’t the time for an attack. I will lead a patrol to speak with Onestar, to see if he knows anything.”

“Of course he knows!” Spiderleg had turned to face them, his neck fur bristling aggressively.

“We should attack now, before we lose more warriors,” Thornclaw declared.

Firestar shook his head. “There’s no point in stirring up trouble when there’s no need,” he warned.

“But there is need.” Thornclaw padded forward until he stood nose to nose with his Clan leader. “A warrior is dead!”

Yowls of agreement rose up from the cats around him.

“Ashfur must be avenged!”

“He was a fine warrior!”

“The whole Clan respected him! No ThunderClan cat would have killed him!”

Lionblaze couldn’t join in; it was hard enough to hide his fear and anxiety from his Clanmates. They remembered Ashfur as a brave and loyal warrior; they knew nothing of the cat who had been prepared to destroy his Clan to take revenge on Squirrelflight for choosing Brambleclaw instead of him.

Firestar raised a paw for silence, but he was still waiting for the yowling to die down when Lionblaze spotted cats emerging into the camp from the thorn tunnel: a hunting patrol led by Sandstorm. Dustpelt, Squirrelflight, and Hollyleaf followed her into the clearing and went to drop their prey on the fresh-kill pile before padding over to join the cats around Firestar.

“What’s all this?” Hollyleaf asked as she reached Lionblaze’s side.

Lionblaze stared at Squirrelflight, at the agony in her face as she listened to her Clanmates’ praise of Ashfur. He knew that she must be sharing his own thoughts, of the darkness in the gray warrior that was so well hidden from the rest of his Clan. How much do you know about how he died? he asked himself, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“Lionblaze, what’s happening?” Hollyleaf repeated her question in a sharper tone, prodding him in the side with one paw.

Lionblaze glanced at her. His sister’s green eyes were haunted, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for a moon. She looks just like how I feel, he thought.

“Thornclaw and some of the others want to attack WindClan because of Ashfur’s death,” he replied.

Hollyleaf’s eyes widened. “Do they really think it was a WindClan cat?” she asked, a tinge of surprise in her voice.

“Some of them do. But Firestar—”

Lionblaze broke off as the Clan leader darted back to the tumbled rocks and leaped up onto a boulder. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!” he yowled.

The cats already in the clearing followed him and settled themselves at the foot of the boulder. Lionblaze could see that some of them were still arguing among themselves, but they kept their voices low.

The two apprentices, Foxpaw and Icepaw, emerged from the elders’ den under the hazel bush, pushing an enormous ball of moss between them. Mousefur and Longtail followed them out and crouched down in a patch of sunlight. Mousewhisker pushed his way out of the warriors’ den, yawning and flicking bits of moss off his pelt.

Graystripe and Millie appeared from the nursery, with their kits tumbling around their paws. They were followed more slowly by Birchfall and Whitewing; the white she-cat was heavy with kits, and Birchfall kept close to her side. Daisy was the last to appear; she sat in the nursery entrance, giving her chest fur a thorough wash, while Toadkit and Rosekit rolled around beside her, play fighting.