Thornclaw and Sandstorm were already waiting below Highledge with Honeypaw and Poppypaw. The young cats looked sleek and shiny from close grooming, and their eyes sparkled.

Hollypaw hurried to join Lionpaw at the edge of the clearing. Her paws were tingling. She was only a moon younger than Poppypaw and Honeypaw. It would be her turn next.

“Can you imagine what it feels like to be made a warrior?” she whispered to Lionpaw.

Lionpaw puffed out his chest. “Every cat will take us seriously then,” he meowed.

Millie, swollen-bellied, padded from the nursery and looked hopefully around the camp. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Graystripe gulping down a mouse beside the halfrock.

He looked up, swallowing. “Sorry.” He burped, hurrying to her side. “I was hungry after the patrol.” He looked anxiously at her. “Have you eaten?”

Millie licked his cheek. “Poppypaw brought us fresh-kill earlier,” she assured him.

They padded to the edge of the clearing, which buzzed with chatter as the Clan gathered for the naming ceremony. Mousefur padded stiffly from the elders’ den, Longtail beside her. It was hard to tell who was guiding whom.

“At this rate, there won’t be any apprentices left to fetch moss for my nest,” Mousefur complained.

Icepaw was bouncing past the elder and stopped to gaze earnestly up at her. “I’ll always fetch you the softest moss, Mousefur,” she promised. “Even when I’m a warrior.”

Mousefur purred. “Get away with you!” She affectionately shooed the young apprentice away with her muzzle.

Hollypaw nudged Lionpaw. “Icepaw must be crazy.”

Lionpaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

Cloudtail and Brightheart had settled in the shadow beneath Highledge. Thornclaw and Sandstorm nodded a greeting to them. The two mentors had backed away from Poppypaw and Honeypaw, and their fur splayed untidily against the rock face. They clearly wanted to give Sorreltail and Brackenfur room to fuss over their kits.

Sorreltail was giving Poppypaw’s ears a fierce lick. “I want you looking nice,” she meowed as Poppypaw scooted backward, out of reach.

Brackenfur purred. “She looks fine.” His proud gaze switched to Honeypaw. “They both do.”

Sorreltail looked at her paws, sadness glazing her eyes. “Molekit should be here too.” Her only tom-kit had died of greencough before he was out of the nursery.

“And Cinderpaw.” Cloudtail glanced toward the medicine cat den.

The white warrior’s whiskers twitched as the brambles at the entrance stirred, then drooped as Leafpool emerged. Hollypaw guessed he had been hoping that Cinderpaw would come to watch the ceremony.

Tail flicking, Sorreltail left her kits and hurried to Leafpool’s side. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Leafpool assured her friend. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have left her.” Hollypaw noticed that the worry in the medicine cat’s eyes didn’t match the lightness of her tone.

To Hollypaw’s surprise, Sorreltail nuzzled Leafpool’s flank. “It must remind you of Cinderpelt’s accident,” she murmured.