“Oh, she’s especially for you, Rowanclaw.” Sleekwhisker rose to her paws and faced her former leader, gazing up at him with triumph in her eyes. “You were a weak leader of ShadowClan. I was miserable growing up, and many cats I cared about died because you failed to deal with Darktail.”

Rowanclaw bowed his head. “All true,” he admitted. “But I have paid for it.”

“Not enough!” Sleekwhisker’s voice was savage. “Now I’m going to have my revenge, because I’ve taken the thing you love most—Tawnypelt!

Rowanclaw suddenly stiffened, flexing his claws into the leaf-mold on the forest floor. “You may have taken her, but you won’t keep her,” he snarled.

“No—I won’t keep her. I’m going to kill her,” Sleekwhisker meowed. “And you’re going to watch.”

“I’d like to see you try!” Tawnypelt spat at her.

“Oh, I’ll do more than try,” Sleekwhisker assured her. “Because if any other cat twitches a whisker, the kits will never see another sunrise.”

“No!” Yarrowleaf yowled.

She tried to gather her kits closer, but Nettle thrust her away and stood over the two shivering scraps, blocking them from any other cat.

“He’d kill his own kits?” Macgyver murmured, horror and disbelief in his voice. “I knew Darktail’s rogues were evil, but this is even worse than I imagined.”

For a moment Nettle stood silent; then Violetshine saw him turn his head slowly toward Rowanclaw.

“There is one thing you could do,” he told the former leader, his eyes gleaming with mockery. “We’ll accept your life in exchange for Tawnypelt’s . . . except that we know you’re too weak to sacrifice yourself for her.”

Rowanclaw drew himself up, quickly and firmly, and Violetshine held her breath in expectation of what he would do or say. But for a moment Rowanclaw didn’t respond.

Violetshine let her gaze travel over the cats in the hollow, wondering what would happen if it came to a fight. They were a match for the rogues in numbers, except that Yarrowleaf’s first duty would be to protect the kits. And all their opponents, even the kittypets, were formidable fighters.

And what can we do, if Nettle is prepared to kill the kits?

Then Violetshine heard a swift command from Rowanclaw, muttered from the side of his mouth. “Be ready.”

Heartened to think that her former leader had a plan, Violetshine tensed, ready to spring, though she tried not to give any outward sign that she might be a threat to the rogues in the hollow.

“Very well,” Rowanclaw meowed. “I will sacrifice myself, Nettle, provided that you release Tawnypelt and let Yarrowleaf take her kits.”

“Do you think I’m mouse-brained?” Nettle’s eyes were insolent. “Tawnypelt can go, but the kits are mine. Yarrowleaf will never see them again.”