Lionpaw flexed his claws. “I wasn’t planning on telling!” he snapped. Why did she have to be so bossy? He wasn’t a mouse-brain! And why did she have to try to figure everything out all the time? The prophecy was simple: They were going to be more powerful than any cat. They just had to be ready to use their powers when they were needed. He turned and padded to the halfrock.

With the sun sliding toward the treetops, the Clan was beginning to take food from the fresh-kill pile. Cinderpaw snatched up Lionpaw’s thrush and carried it to the nursery, where Millie, Daisy, and her kits would be growing hungry.

Poppypaw picked up a mouse and placed it outside the elders’ den. “Fresh-kill!” she called.

Longtail emerged from the tangle of honeysuckle, nose twitching, and stood at the entrance, while Mousefur followed him stiffly out. The old she-cat grew more frail with each passing moon. Longtail waited until she had settled down next to the mouse, then sat beside her.

“You don’t have to watch over me like I’m a helpless kit!” Mousefur snapped at him.

Longtail’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “It’s a shame your tongue’s not as worn-out as the rest of you,” he purred.

Mousefur swiped at him with her tail, catching him behind the ear. “Do you want some of this?” She nosed the mouse toward him.

“You can have this if you want!” Icepaw was trotting from the fresh-kill pile with her little vole swinging from her jaws. She dropped it at Longtail’s paws. “I caught it myself!”

“Your first catch?” Mousefur’s eyes glowed.

Longtail bent to sniff the small creature. “It smells delicious.”

The brambles at the entrance to the medicine cat den twitched as Jaypaw slid out, a ball of moss held gingerly between his teeth. He padded over to Mousefur and Longtail and placed the moss on the ground. Turning his blind blue eyes on Icepaw, he mewed, “I’ve heard you’ve been busy today. You should get something to eat.”

“I am pretty hungry,” Icepaw admitted.

“Thanks for the vole!” Longtail called after the apprentice as she padded back to the fresh-kill pile.

Icepaw mewed happily over her shoulder, “Anytime!”

“Do you mind if I check for ticks while you eat?” Jaypaw asked Mousefur.

“If you must,” Mousefur grumbled. “Though I don’t know why you had to wait until I was eating to bring that foul stuff over.” She nodded at the moss. Lionpaw guessed that it was soaked in mouse bile.

“I thought you might be sleeping earlier, and I didn’t want to wake you.” Patiently, Jaypaw began to nuzzle through Mousefur’s pelt. He paused to tear some moss from the ball and pressed it into the fur near the base of her tail.