“Sandstorm.” Firestar turned to his mate. “The thorn barrier must be strengthened. We’ll weave in all the extra brambles we can find. I want everyone working together.”

Sandstorm dipped her head.

Lionpaw raced to the entrance, where Dustpelt was already waiting with Cloudtail. Ashfur and Birchfall joined them.

Dustpelt flicked his tail. “Ready?”

Cloudtail nodded. Birchfall kneaded the ground. Lionpaw could hardly keep his paws still. He wanted to watch WindClan as they fled like cowards over the border.

“Come on.” Dustpelt turned and pounded into the forest, and Lionpaw followed, blood roaring in his ears.

The woods smelled of WindClan, and Lionpaw wrinkled his nose. Warriors? They were nothing but thieves and bullies.

Perhaps we’ll catch them before they reach the border. His paws itched for battle. He would beat WindClan just like he’d beaten the mountain cats. They were both scrawny bunches of prey-stealers.

Cloudtail raced into the lead, signaling for the patrol to slow down. He was the Clan’s best tracker; no WindClan scent would escape him. He led them straight for the border, stopping and sniffing at twigs and leaves before nodding and moving on to the next scent.

As they neared WindClan’s part of the forest, he halted beside a low-spreading yew. He sniffed it and then turned his head, ears pricking. Padding into a dip, he sniffed at a bramble and frowned. He jumped onto the bank, which led down to the border stream, and opened his mouth to draw in scent. Shaking his head, he glanced back at his Clanmates.

“What is it?” Dustpelt demanded.

“They split up here,” Cloudtail meowed.

Dustpelt flattened his ears. “They did what?”

Cloudtail flicked his tail toward the yew. “One group went that way.”

Toward the old Thunderpath! An ominous feeling rumbled in Lionpaw’s belly.

“Another went that way.” Cloudtail was pointing his nose toward the lake. “And the other—”

Birchfall cut him off. “The other?”

Cloudtail was looking upstream. “The other group has gone deeper into the woods,” he finished.

Lionpaw gulped. That was where the tunnel entrance lay.

“Then none of them have crossed back over the border?” Ashfur circled his Clanmates, pelt bristling.

“Not as far as I can tell,” Cloudtail meowed. “This is as close to the border as the scents go.”

“Isn’t there any fresh scent on the border at all?”

Cloudtail shook his head.

Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “So they didn’t come in this way either.”

“They must have crossed the moorland border,” Birchfall guessed.

Lionpaw prayed it was true. But he couldn’t forget the fox den he had found. Had WindClan found it too? Had they used it to invade ThunderClan territory? He fought down the urge to race to the thicket and check for WindClan scents. How would he explain his suspicions to the others?