She halted at the edge of the boulder. “What are you bickering about?”

“Hollypaw and Lionpaw are just arguing about who’s the best hunter,” Jaypaw mewed smoothly.

Hollypaw opened her mouth to object, then stopped herself. She hated lying, but she couldn’t give their secret away, not here.

“You shouldn’t be standing around chatting,” Squirrelflight told them. “Not when Brambleclaw has just told you to find fresh-kill. He wants to make sure Stormfur and Brook have something to take back to the Tribe.”

They had been so busy arguing, they hadn’t heard the order.

“You shouldn’t have to be asked twice,” Squirrelflight scolded.

Hollypaw hung her head. “Sorry.”

Squirrelflight flicked her tail toward a cluster of trees at the side of the slope. “Try there, and hurry up!” The copse cast a long shadow that stretched up the hillside. The sun would be setting soon.

Lionpaw licked his lips. “There should be plenty of prey in there.”

“Enough for everyone,” Squirrelflight agreed. She turned to Jaypaw. “Will you come check Tawnypelt’s pads? One of them is bruised where she trod on a sharp stone.”

There had been enough sharp stones to bruise everyone’s pads on the trek down from the mountain; Hollypaw guessed that Squirrelflight was finding Jaypaw something useful to do, since he couldn’t hunt. She tensed, knowing how oversensitive Jaypaw could be. But her littermate just nodded and followed Squirrelflight back toward the warriors. He didn’t even bristle when his mother bent down to lick a grubby patch of fur behind his ear.

The gesture pricked at Hollypaw’s heart. Squirrelflight still saw them as kits. It would be easier if they still were; kits didn’t have to worry about having more power than their warrior ancestors. But things change, she told herself. She turned away, suddenly anxious. Would there come a time when Squirrelflight would be afraid of her own kits?

“What’s ruffling your pelt?” Lionpaw asked.

Hollypaw licked the fur prickling on her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.” She nodded toward the copse. “Let’s hunt.”

She padded to the front of the boulder and let her paws slide over the edge. It was a short, steep drop, but the grass below looked like it would make a soft landing. She leaped. As she landed, a flurry of fur and paws knocked the breath from her body and sent her flying. Who’s attacking me? Gasping, she scrambled to her paws and prepared to defend herself.

“Why did you get in the way?”

Breezepaw!

The black WindClan apprentice was shaking out his fur beside her. “I almost had that mouse!”

“Sorr—” she began to apologize, then bristled. Why didn’t the dumb furball look where he was going? “I thought we were supposed to be hunting over there!” She flicked her tail toward the copse.