Macgyver picked up his mouse again while Violetshine fetched the squirrel she had left among the roots of an oak tree, and Sandynose retrieved another mouse and a thrush. Carrying their prey, the three cats set off at a fast trot toward the SkyClan camp. The rain grew heavier with every paw step they took, until the sound grew to a steady pattering on the canopy. The trees shielded the cats from the worst of the deluge, though Violetshine flinched at the lash of icy rain whenever wind thrust the branches apart.

As she followed Sandynose, Violetshine spotted the gleam of a golden pelt among the trees several fox-lengths away. It vanished almost at once; Violetshine paused for a moment, her whiskers twitching in puzzlement as she gazed after it.

Was that Sleekwhisker? she asked herself. Where does she think she’s going, all by herself?

It wasn’t wrong for warriors to hunt alone, or just to go for a walk, but it was odd for any cat to be heading away from camp when the storm was getting worse with every heartbeat.

Then Violetshine shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t Sleekwhisker. And even if it was, it’s none of my business what she does. I might say something to Leafstar, though, once the storm is over.

“Hey, Violetshine!” Sandynose called back to her. “Are you coming, or do you want to get soaked all the way through?”

Violetshine raced to catch up with her Clanmates. As they drew closer to the camp, she could feel anxiety prickling through her pelt, as though she were trying to push her way through a thicket of brambles. She knew it wasn’t because of the odd sighting of Sleekwhisker, but she couldn’t think of any other reason.

What’s the matter with me? she asked herself.

Then, as she approached the fern barrier that surrounded the camp, Violetshine suddenly began to understand. Tree! I hope he’s okay!

She thrust her way into the camp, her pelt soaked as she brushed against the walls of the tunnel. Emerging into the open again, Violetshine felt a sudden rush of relief as she spotted the muscular yellow tom crouching in the shelter of a boulder, with Sparrowpelt and Blossomheart close beside him.

Around them the life of the Clan seemed to be carrying on as usual, with cats gathered around the fresh-kill pile and Hawkwing calling another patrol together, ready to go out. The rain had eased, but wind still buffeted the cats’ fur.

Violetshine bounded across to Tree, pausing only to drop her squirrel onto the fresh-kill pile. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Tree stretched his jaws in a yawn. “Fine,” he replied at last. “We’re all fine.”

“If this StarClan-cursed storm doesn’t get any worse,” Sparrowpelt muttered.