Silence fell. The snow-covered slope was stained with blood and strewn with feathers. The Tribe cats stood silent, watching Dovewing as she writhed in agony. The intruders had picked themselves up; even Flora was standing shakily on her paws. They exchanged swift, guilty glances, but said nothing.

Dovewing lifted her head, feeling cold horror course through her veins. She couldn’t hear Swoop screaming now—and that was the most terrible sound of all. “She’s dead,” she whispered.

Foxleap staggered to his paws and faced the Tribe cats. “I’m sorry,” he mewed, his voice full of anguish. “It was my fault.”

“Yes!” Splash hissed, her eyes narrowed with grief and hostility. “You were told to stay out of it. If you’d done as Crag told you, Swoop would be alive now.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Foxleap repeated.

Dovewing padded over to him and pressed her muzzle against his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured. “You were only trying to help. Without you, the eagle might have taken Flora.”

“Better an intruder than one of the Tribe!” Splash snapped.

Foxleap said nothing, just stared at his paws with numb grief in his eyes.

Crag let out a long sigh. “Blaming Foxleap won’t help. We’d better get back to the cave.”

As they set off, the black tom took a pace forward. “Wait!”

Splash spun around, flexing her claws. “What?”

“Nothing.” The black tom looked embarrassed and guilty. “Just…er…thanks.”

The Tribe she-cat let out a snort of disgust and bounded away with a last glance over her shoulder. “Don’t even think about crossing the border again,” she snarled.

Dovewing stumbled blindly back through the snow. She felt so much pain inside that she scarcely noticed her frozen paws or aching ears. All she could hear was the echo of Swoop’s terrified shrieks as the eagle carried her away.

We should never have come here. This has nothing to do with the prophecy, nothing to do with keeping the Clans safe from the Dark Forest.

The sun was sinking into a troubled mass of cloud by the time the waterfall came in sight. When the patrol finally staggered into the cave, Squirrelflight sprang up from where she had been talking to Talon and Bird. “What happened?” she demanded, fear in her eyes as she bounded over to Dovewing.

“We went to help—” Crag began, but Splash cut him off with a lash of her tail.

“Swoop is dead,” she rasped. “An eagle took her while she was trying to save this cat.” She glared at Foxleap. “He forced his way into the fight when he’d been told to stay out of it.”

Squirrelflight let out a gasp of horror. More cats gathered around them, Stormfur and Brook in the lead.

“That’s terrible!” Stormfur exclaimed.

Brook nodded, stroking her tail over Splash’s shoulder. “No cat has been taken by an eagle for many moons.”

“They have now!” Splash spat.

“I’d better report to Stoneteller,” Crag muttered, bounding to the back of the cave.

Brook’s kits, Lark and Pine, were staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes. “Will the big bird come and take us, too?” Lark whimpered.