Lionpaw watched his brother. He seemed completely different from the resentful young cat who had never wanted to be a medicine cat’s apprentice. And yet he’s more powerful than any of his Clanmates. Lionpaw climbed onto the halfrock and lay down, pressing his belly against the sun-warmed stone. Perhaps knowing he’s so powerful makes boring tasks easier to bear. He wondered how many moons it had been since Jaypaw had crept into Firestar’s dream and overheard the stranger predicting the birth of three kits with the power of the stars in their paws. Would the frustration gnawing in his own belly ease with time, once he’d gotten used to the prophecy, as Jaypaw had done?

He glanced up at Highledge as Firestar picked his way down the tumble of rocks, Sandstorm following. The ThunderClan leader had never given any clue that he knew of the prophecy. He had only ever treated Lionpaw, Hollypaw, and Jaypaw as if they were three ordinary apprentices. Lionpaw watched as Firestar picked a mouse from the pile and passed it to Sandstorm before taking a sparrow for himself. What does he really feel? Lionpaw suddenly wished he had Jaypaw’s powers to see into Firestar’s mind. Was he proud to have them as his kin? Pleased that his Clan would be safe forever, guarded by such powerful cats? Or was he anxious, as Jaypaw feared, about having cats more powerful than himself in the Clan?

The thorn barrier shivered as Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw padded through, followed by Foxpaw and Berrynose.

“The borders are quiet,” Brambleclaw called to his leader. “But the sunset patrol should check the WindClan border closely. By the smell of it, they’ve been hunting in the woods on their side.”

Firestar was settling down beneath Highledge, Sandstorm at his side. “It looks like they’ve developed a taste for squirrel,” he remarked.

Cinderpaw, sharing a pigeon with Honeypaw, looked up eagerly. “Can I go out on sunset patrol?” Now that her injured leg was recovered enough to return to apprentice duties, she seemed keen to take on any task, as though making up for lost time.

“Yes.” Brambleclaw nodded. “I was going to ask Graystripe to lead it.”

“Did someone mention Graystripe?” Millie padded from the nursery, blinking sleep from her eyes.

Graystripe was repairing a tear in the nursery wall where winds had unraveled the carefully threaded brambles. “Are you okay?” He looked closely at Millie. She was fat with her kits, which were expected any day now.

“Fine.” Millie picked up two mice from the fresh-kill pile. “I’d just rather share a meal outside with you.” She carried the meal to where Firestar and Sandstorm lay. Graystripe tucked in a final tendril with his paws and hurried to join her.

A thrush thudded onto the ground beside the halfrock, surprising Lionpaw. Hollypaw stood over it, staring at him.