The three WindClan cats exchanged a rather guilty glance. “Sorry,” Featherpelt responded, giving her gray tabby fur a couple of embarrassed swipes with her tongue. “We have belly sickness in WindClan, and I guess we used it all.”

“Not to worry,” Alderheart assured her. “But we have the same sickness, and we really need watermint.”

“One of our border patrols told me there’s watermint on the banks of the RiverClan stream, but on our side,” Hootwhisker put in.

Alderheart nodded. “That’s where we’re heading. It should be okay to take some without bothering RiverClan.”

“Then can we come with you?” Hootwhisker asked. “We can pick some for our own stores.”

“Yes, that should please Kestrelflight,” Larkwing added. “Most of our cats are improving, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”

Alderheart heard a faint hiss of annoyance from Sparkpelt. He couldn’t help wishing that the WindClan cats had used this other supply all along. But he knew there was no point in starting an argument about that now.

“Sure you can come,” he mewed. “Are you okay with that, Sparkpelt?”

“I suppose so,” Sparkpelt replied. “I suppose six cats will be better than three if we do run into trouble from RiverClan.”

“But surely there won’t be trouble when we have a medicine cat with us?” Hootwhisker asked. “At least . . .”

His voice trailed off, and all the cats exchanged doubtful glances. We have no idea how RiverClan will react, Alderheart thought. Not too long ago, it had been WindClan who had closed their borders, and they had been reluctant to share herbs that grew on their land with any of the other Clans.

Together the two patrols set off toward the RiverClan border, still keeping close to the water’s edge. The wind had dropped now, and the lake lay flat and still. There was no sign of a storm, but the sky above still looked bleak and gray. Alderheart’s feelings of dread wouldn’t be banished, as if he had fox dung clinging to his fur.

As they approached the horseplace, Featherpelt suddenly halted and began to taste the air. “There’s a really strong smell of horse,” she murmured, looking slightly uneasy. “I wonder if we should take a different way around.”

“No, what’s the point?” Sparkpelt objected; Alderheart suspected that his sister was reluctant to take suggestions from a WindClan cat. “The horses are always penned in the horseplace. They won’t bother us unless we bother them. We’ll just sneak past.”

Alderheart felt that maybe they should pay more attention to Featherpelt, since WindClan knew more about the horseplace than any cat. But he said nothing, just happy to take the more direct route that would get them to the watermint faster.

But as the cats made their way alongside the horseplace, their ears twitched at an ominous thundering sound.