That moss will be used for newborn kits! Hollypaw stared at him, shocked by his recklessness. She could tell by the muscles flexing beneath his pelt that he was thinking of battle, not kits. Was this what power meant to him? The need to fight for the smallest reason?

Hollypaw shivered. If it did, would any cat be able to stop him?

CHAPTER 7

Lionpaw tugged another sprig of moss from his pelt. Hauling the stuff in and out of dens had left his fur itching. His muscles were knotted from the tedious work. Sighing, he watched the sun sliding behind the trees. The sunset patrol had left without him.

What a boring day! Frustrated, he headed to the apprentices’ den. There was nothing left to do but sleep, though he longed to run through the forest, stretch his legs, and feel the wind in his fur.

He ducked under a branch of the low-spreading yew. Inside, Foxpaw and Icepaw were chattering like sparrows.

“Whitewing taught me how to do a roll,” Icepaw boasted.

“I can fight on my hind paws,” Foxpaw countered. “Do you want to watch me?”

Lionpaw realized the young apprentice was talking to him. Wearily, he nodded and watched Foxpaw rear up on wobbly back legs and stagger around his nest before toppling onto the moss.

“I was better this afternoon!” Foxpaw scrambled to his paws, looking flustered.

“I’m sure you were,” Lionpaw mewed. He was jealous of Foxpaw’s excitement. Since he’d returned from the mountains it seemed as though life were entirely made up of dull chores. It was all very well feeding the Clan and clearing out its dens, but when would he have a chance to use the power he felt pulsing through his paws?

He curled into his nest.

“Look!” Foxpaw called. “I’m doing it properly this time!”

Lionpaw didn’t bother lifting his head.

“Show him your new hunting crouch,” Icepaw encouraged.

Moss rustled, and Lionpaw jerked as Foxpaw pounced on him, grappling with his tail as though it were a snake. Crossly, Lionpaw heaved the apprentice out of his nest with a shove of his hind paws.

“Hey!” mewed Icepaw, protective of her littermate.

“Keep to your own nest and let me sleep!” Lionpaw growled.

“You’re no fun anymore!” Foxpaw sulked.

The yew rustled as Hollypaw padded into the den.

“Lionpaw’s been pushing Foxpaw around!” Icepaw appealed to Hollypaw.

“I can look after myself,” Foxpaw objected.

“I think Lionpaw’s tired,” Hollypaw soothed. “I’m sure he’ll want to play in the morning.”

She curled in beside Lionpaw, and he felt the gentle lap of her tongue on his pelt. Gratefully he let her wash the last scraps of moss from his fur, calmed by the rhythmic licking.

“Cheer up,” she mewed. “Brackenfur just told me we’re both going out on patrol in the morning.”

Lionpaw pricked his ears.