“Careful!” Their mother followed and gathered the kits in with her tail. “Your father has been on border patrol. He must be tired.”

“I’m fine, Brook.” The gray tom blinked at her affectionately and gave her ear a quick lick. “It was an easy trip today.”

“Stormfur, I don’t know how you can say that!” a black tom put in, shaking water from his pelt as he left the cliff path. “We waste our time and wear out our paws patrolling that border, and for what?”

“Peace and quiet,” Stormfur replied, his voice even. “We aren’t going to get rid of those cats, even though we do think they’re intruders. The best we can hope for is to protect our own territory.”

“The whole of the mountains should be our territory!” the black tom spat.

“Give it a rest, Screech,” a dark ginger she-cat meowed, with an irritable twitch of her tail. “Stormfur’s right. Things aren’t like that anymore.”

“But are we safe?” asked Brook. She glanced at the kits, who were now tussling over a morsel of rabbit fur.

“The borders are holding, mostly,” Stormfur told Brook, a worried look in his amber eyes. “But we did pick up the scent of other cats in a couple of places. And there were eagle feathers scattered on the rock. They’ve been stealing prey again.”

The ginger she-cat shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“We can’t just let it go, Swoop,” Stormfur murmured. “Otherwise they’ll think they can do exactly what they like, and there was no point in setting the borders in the first place. I think we should increase the patrols and be ready to fight.”

“More patrols?” Screech lashed his tail angrily.

“It makes sense to—”

“No!”

Stormfur jumped as a voice rasped out from the shadows and he saw the old tabby cat standing a tail-length away.

“Stoneteller!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Evidently.” The old cat’s neck fur was bristling and there was a trace of anger in his eyes. “There will be no more patrols,” he went on. “The Tribe has enough to eat, and with the thaw approaching, there will soon be more prey: eggs and young birds stolen from nests.”

Stormfur looked as if he wanted to argue, but he picked up a flickering glance from Brook and a tiny shake of her head. Reluctantly he dipped his head to Stoneteller. “Very well.”

The old cat stalked away. Making an effort to flatten the ruffled fur on his neck, Stormfur turned to his kits. “Have you behaved yourselves today?”

“They’ve been very good,” Brook told him, her eyes warm. “Lark is growing so strong and sturdy, and Pine jumps really well.”

“We’ve been hunting,” Lark announced, pointing with her tail toward the bedraggled lump of feathers. “I caught three eagles!”

“Didn’t,” Pine contradicted her. “I killed one, or it would have flown away with you!”

Brook met Stormfur’s eyes. “I can’t seem to make them understand that they’ll have separate duties when they’re to-bes.”