Inside the hollow, Brightheart restlessly circled the camp. Occasionally she stopped, and Jaypaw guessed she was scanning the ledges along the steep rock walls in case any WindClan warriors were trying to sneak down in a stealth attack. Jaypaw trusted her senses; her one eye made her hearing and sense of smell almost as good as his own. No cat could steal past her. And even if they did, Cinderpaw was prowling the clearing, every hair on her pelt bristling.

“Are you sure your leg’s okay?” Jaypaw was worried she’d been pacing on it too long.

“It’s much stronger with all the swimming,” Cinderpaw promised.

“Just rest awhile,” Jaypaw advised.

“I’ll rest on Highledge.”

Jaypaw wondered whether to stop her from struggling up the tumble of rocks, but there was such determination in her voice that it seemed pointless to argue. Leafpool’s memory of the badger flashed in his mind, part of his own memories now—black-and-white fur crashing through bramble walls, snapping jaws, the stench of blood, kits mewling in terror. Cinderpelt had died to protect them. Was Cinderpaw’s mind echoing with that memory now? If it was, then nothing he could say would stop her from guarding the kits.

He listened to her scrabbling up to Highledge, praying her leg wouldn’t slip on the loose rocks, relieved when she mounted the ledge and settled at the mouth of Firestar’s cave.

Leafpool was in her den, sifting through leaves and sorting herbs. Jaypaw could smell their pungent aromas mingle as she mixed poultices and ointments, ready for the wounded.

“We’ve got everything covered,” Jaypaw comforted Ferncloud. “ThunderClan won’t be taken as easily as Onestar thinks.”

Ferncloud shifted on her paws. “Now tell me what you really think.”

“What do you mean?” It wasn’t like Ferncloud to be skeptical.

“It’s your duty to encourage your Clanmates, but what has StarClan told you about this battle?”

Jaypaw shook his head. How could he tell her that they’d had no warning? Yet he wouldn’t lie to defend his ancestors. Why had they let ThunderClan down? “StarClan didn’t tell us anything,” he murmured.

“Nothing at all?”

“No.”

Ferncloud huddled into a tighter crouch, her whiskers trembling.

Were StarClan as surprised as ThunderClan by this attack? Or were they simply on WindClan’s side?

Brambles swished.

“How did Cinderpaw get up there?” Leafpool’s mew was taut with worry.

“She climbed up,” Jaypaw replied.

Leafpool bristled.

“I told her to rest her leg,” Jaypaw explained. “It was the only place she would settle.” Hadn’t he proved already that he knew what was best for Cinderpaw? Why couldn’t Leafpool believe that Cinderpaw’s leg was healing?

Leafpool called up to Cinderpaw, “Don’t try to climb down without help!”

“I don’t need help!” Cinderpaw mewed. “My leg’s fine!”