Hollypaw stepped from the shadows. “Almost.”

“Good.” The golden brown tabby got to his paws. “We can go.”

A small squeak sounded from inside the nursery. “Has the fox gone?” Rosekit mewed anxiously. “I heard it barking, and it sounded really close!”

“It’s far away in the forest, dear,” Daisy soothed. “Now go back to sleep.”

Hollypaw fell in behind Brackenfur as the patrol padded single file out into the forest. It was dark beneath the shelter of the trees, and Hollypaw stumbled over a root as they headed up the slope toward the WindClan border.

Brackenfur glanced back at her. “Are your paws still asleep?”

“I’ll wake up soon,” she promised.

They trekked to the border stream, slowing as they neared it. Sorreltail, leading the patrol, signaled with her tail for them to halt and lifted her nose to taste the air. “No fresh scents here.”

Thornclaw scrambled down the bank, and Hollypaw heard bushes rustle as he checked beneath them. He emerged with leaves caught in his pelt. “No signs there.”

Padding quietly through the trees, they followed the stream along the border. Brackenfur pushed through a clump of ferns, sliding out the other side with a shake of his head. “All clear.”

Thornclaw left a scent marker at the roots of an oak.

“We’ll follow the stream out of the trees,” Sorreltail decided. “Then we can reset our markers along the moorland border.” She led the way out of the forest and into moonshine. The hillside glowed eerily white, and the silence of the moor and the forest set Hollypaw’s pelt prickling.

“It’s so quiet,” she murmured.

“Dawn’s coming,” Brackenfur meowed. “The birds will be waking soon.”

A breeze rustled the heather.

“Thornclaw, Brackenfur, you reset the markers,” Sorreltail ordered. “Hollypaw and I will scout around and check for any WindClan scents.” She nodded to Hollypaw. “Follow me.”

Hollypaw padded down the slope after the tortoiseshell, her sleep-clumsy paws slipping on the coarse grass. Sorreltail beckoned her onward with her tail, and Hollypaw weaved ahead through the heather while Sorreltail headed back up the slope. Sniffing her way from bush to bush, she followed the curving ground through a dip and up onto a shallow hillock. The borderline lay here, detectable more from recent ThunderClan markers than the stale WindClan scent. It was as if this border hardly mattered to WindClan anymore. They must have been too busy hunting in the forest.

Hollypaw gazed at the hillside beyond. The hill arched like the spine of a giant cat against the sky. It stretched to the horizon, creamy with the coming dawn. Cream gave way to yellow as the sun began to push against the darkness, driving back the night and staining the hilltop a soft pink.