“We must have just missed them,” Brackenfur growled.

Hollypaw was gazing in silent dismay at the blackbird.

Lionpaw nudged her. “Pretty good find, huh?”

“They’re breaking the warrior code!” She gasped. “They should be taking their fresh-kill back for their elders and queens. Not stuffing their faces as soon as they’ve caught it.”

Lionpaw snorted. “I don’t think cats who steal care much about the warrior code.”

“They must be pretty desperate,” Brackenfur commented.

Ashfur pawed the remains toward Brackenfur. “Take this back and show Firestar. I’ll take Hollypaw and Lionpaw to check upstream.”

“Is there any point?” Brackenfur flicked his tail. The bank behind them was crowded with bushes, most of them bramble. “WindClan aren’t used to fighting their way through that kind of stuff.”

Lionpaw wasn’t ready to go back to camp yet. “They managed to get under that holly bush.” He could still feel the scratches along his spine.

Ashfur nodded. “It’s worth checking.”

“Don’t be too long.” Brackenfur picked up the carcass in his teeth and disappeared into the trees.

Lionpaw gazed along the bank, squinting his eyes against the rain. It was a jungle of brambles from bottom to top, but he was ready to search every tail-length of it. A WindClan warrior might be hiding there. He headed toward a tiny opening in the prickly thicket, tensing his shoulders, ready to batter his way through.

“Wait!” Hollypaw tugged on his tail. “You’ll get torn to shreds if you try squeezing along that mouse path! Let me go. I’m smaller. I can get through.”

“I won’t get hurt,” Lionpaw assured her. “It’s only thorns.”

Don’t forget the battle in the mountains, he wanted to say. He stopped himself in time, suddenly conscious of Ashfur hovering behind them.

“Come on, Lionpaw,” Ashfur meowed. “Let her pass.”

Frustrated, Lionpaw stepped back and allowed Hollypaw to push her way carefully into the brambles.

“We’ll go this way.” Ashfur led him around the edge of the thicket and started sniffing the rain-slicked roots of a beech clinging to the bank.

“I’ll check closer to the water.” Lionpaw scrambled down the slippery bank. The stream spat and gurgled, splashing his paws as he picked his way along the edge. He sniffed every tuft of grass and pushed back the leaves of each plant to check that nothing was concealed underneath.

A clump of ferns blocked his path. He opened his jaws, letting its scent lick the roof of his mouth. As he reached a paw in among the dripping fronds, a mew came from above him.

“Nothing in the brambles!” Hollypaw’s head was peeping over the top of the bank. Her eyes were wide, her fur fluffed up despite the rain.

“Are you sure?” Lionpaw narrowed his eyes. She seemed pretty excited for a cat who had found nothing.

“Just brambles,” Hollypaw insisted. “Ashfur says we’re to go back to camp.”