In front of him, Ashfur swerved. He was following the track. But Lionpaw knew a better way. He ran straight on, crashing through a wall of fern. As he exploded from the undergrowth, Ashfur stared in surprise. Lionpaw was ahead now, veering back onto the track and lengthening his stride.

“Get back!” Ashfur ordered. “I’m leading this patrol.”

Lionpaw slowed and let Ashfur shoulder past him. The warrior’s blue eyes flashed with anger. Lionpaw fell in behind, a flash of satisfaction warming his pelt. He’d let Ashfur lead—for now. One day he’d be at the head of every patrol.

Ahead, the border stream glimmered between the trees. Ashfur quickened his pace, leaping a patch of ground elder before pulling up at the water’s edge. Lionpaw slid to a halt behind him, raindrops dripping from his pelt.

“What in StarClan did you think you were doing?” Ashfur demanded. “You could have run into an ambush! We’d no idea what was waiting for us.”

Hollypaw and Brackenfur caught up.

“I was just taking a shortcut,” Lionpaw defended himself.

“Well, next time, just stay back!”

“Problem?” Brackenfur asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ashfur snapped.

Hollypaw threw her brother a warning glance.

Lionpaw shrugged. I haven’t given our secret away.

Brackenfur was sniffing the air. “The rain has gotten rid of any scents.”

“There may be other signs,” Ashfur guessed. “Let’s split up and search.”

“Okay.” Brackenfur nodded. “But stay within earshot. We don’t know what we might find.”

While the others padded away, sniffing every leaf and twig, Lionpaw peered downstream. Bushes crowded the bank. Was it possible a WindClan cat had sheltered there from the rain? If so, the scent might not have been washed away yet.

He padded beneath a dripping red currant bush. The soil was drier inside. He sniffed around the stem. No scent. As he pushed his way out through the soft leaves, holly leaves jabbed his nose. A dense bush spread up the bank, its glossy leaves gleaming with raindrops. Narrowing his eyes against its prickles, he lay flat and wriggled inside. Mud smeared his belly as he squirmed around the branches. Sharp leaves scraped his back.

“What are you doing?” Hollypaw hissed to him from outside. “Hiding from the rain?”

“Shh!” Lionpaw could smell the faintest hint of WindClan scent. He rummaged carefully through the barbed leaves clumped around the roots.

“I’ve found something!” he mewed, wriggling out backward with his pelt ruffled and muddy. “Look!” He dragged out the remains of a blackbird.

“What is it?” Ashfur came hurrying to see, Brackenfur on his heels. He curled his lip as he stared at the carcass. The tangle of bloody bones and feathers was still warm. The scent of WindClan mixed with the scent of fresh-kill: This had been taken by a WindClan warrior and eaten where it was caught, in the shelter of the holly bush.