“No, they’re not.” The she-cat stalked down the slope to stand beside Dark, and gave him a light cuff over one ear. “They are not intruders, they’re guests.” She turned to Squirrelflight, surprise in her voice and the set of her ears, and added more warmly, “Squirrelflight, it’s good to see you again—and Jaypaw.”

“Jayfeather,” the medicine cat corrected her with a twitch of his ears.

“It’s Wing Shadow Over Water, isn’t it?” Squirrelflight stepped forward to touch noses with the gray she-cat. “And Sheer Path Beside Waterfall,” she added with a nod to the dark tabby. “This is Dovewing, and this is Foxleap.”

Dovewing dipped her head in greeting, eyeing the Tribe cats curiously. They were much smaller than the Clan cats, and they all looked as if they could do with a good meal.

“This to-be,” Wing went on, pointing with her tail toward the black tom, “the one who has no more sense than to attack four cats all by himself, is Dark Shadow on Water, and this is Rain That Passes Quickly.”

The gray speckled cat ducked her head politely.

“To-be?” Dovewing murmured.

“Like our apprentices,” Jayfeather hissed into her ear.

“No cat expected to see you here again,” Sheer meowed to Squirrelflight. “Are the Clans in trouble? Do you need help?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Squirrelflight purred. “We just wanted to pay a visit to our old friends.”

Wing twitched her whiskers, and Dovewing figured she had guessed that the Clan cats had more reason than that for trekking so far in leaf-bare, but all she said was “We’d better take you to the cave. It will be dark soon.”

Following the Tribe cats, the ThunderClan patrol headed deeper into the mountains. The sun had disappeared, and the last streaks of scarlet were fading from the sky. Twilight gathered, making the path even harder to see, but the Tribe cats bounded confidently forward, standing poised on the top of rocks as they waited for the Clan cats to catch up. Wind whined among the peaks; Dovewing blinked as it drove showers of ice into her eyes.

“Why any cat wants to live in such a StarClan-forsaken place as this,” Jayfeather panted as he hauled himself over a boulder, “I’ll never understand.” He hesitated, crouching on the rock; the ground ahead was uneven and Dovewing realized that he could injure himself if he jumped down in the wrong place.

“Wait a moment,” she mewed. She let herself drop onto a patch of snow and checked that it was clear of sharp edges. “Jump over here,” she instructed Jayfeather. “Follow my voice.”

Jayfeather leaped, landing awkwardly; Dovewing steadied him as he staggered. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

As they began to toil up a long slope, following Squirrelflight and Foxleap, who had drawn a little way ahead, Dovewing picked up a new sound: a deep, continuous roar that grew louder with every paw step they took.

“What’s that noise?” she asked Jayfeather.

“Oh, you can hear it already?” Jayfeather spoke in a low voice, and Dovewing guessed that without knowing it she had been using her special senses. “It’s the waterfall. That’s where the Tribe of Rushing Water lives.”