Spinning around, Dovewing saw the crowd of cats part to reveal a skinny old tabby tom. He was no taller than a new apprentice, and his bony haunches strained at his patchy fur. As he paced forward, Dovewing was shocked to hear the uneven beating of his heart and his labored breathing. A whiff of scent like rotting crow-food came from his open jaws as he halted in front of Squirrelflight.

This cat is dying! Dovewing realized in alarm.

“Stoneteller…” Brook stammered. “Look who came to visit.”

“I can see who it is,” Stoneteller snapped. “I want to know what they’re doing here.”

Squirrelflight flashed a glance at Brook as she stepped forward and dipped her head courteously to the old tom. “Greetings, Stoneteller,” she meowed. “My Clanmates and I just came to visit. We wanted to see how you’re all getting on.”

“Do you think we can’t survive without you?” Stoneteller growled.

Dovewing could see that Squirrelflight was getting flustered, her claws scraping the hard floor of the cave. “It’s not like that—” she began.

Stoneteller cut her off with a snarl deep in his throat and a single lash of his tail. Foxleap’s eyes widened; he leaned over to Dovewing and hissed in her ear, “Who made dirt in his fresh-kill?”

Jayfeather stepped forward. Dovewing tensed; the short-tempered medicine cat was bound to make things worse with some cutting remark. Instead, she was surprised by Jayfeather’s even tones as he began to speak.

“Nothing is wrong, Stoneteller, believe me. We come in peace, as friends.” Waving his tail toward Foxleap and Dovewing, he added, “We thought it would be a good experience for these two young cats to see how the Tribe lives. We have as much to learn from you as you have learned from us in the past.”

Stoneteller let out a snort but didn’t challenge the visitors any further.

“Well done, Jayfeather,” Squirrelflight whispered.

Wing weaved her way through the cats and dipped her head to Stoneteller. “Healer, may these cats share today’s meal?”

“Today’s meal?” Foxleap sounded dismayed. “You mean you only eat once a day? Don’t you get hungry?”

“Don’t you get fat?” a young she-cat countered, looking Foxleap up and down.

Stoneteller gave his permission, though Dovewing could tell he wasn’t thrilled. He stood back as Wing and Brook led the visiting cats across the cave and halted in front of a fresh-kill pile.

“Help yourselves,” Wing invited.

Following Squirrelflight, Dovewing pulled a bird out of the pile and bit into it hungrily. A heartbeat later she was struggling to swallow. Great StarClan, that tastes bitter! She studied the prey carefully; the bird wasn’t any kind she had seen before: bigger than the forest birds, with brown feathers and a hooked beak.

“I don’t see how any cat could catch a bird like this alone,” she murmured, half to herself.

“That’s ridiculous!” Dark exclaimed, overhearing her. He blinked at her scornfully. “As if any cat would be expected to hunt alone. Prey-hunters work together; even kits know that. Watch; we’ll show you. Here—Rain, Snow!” He called to the other to-be who had met them in the mountains, and another young she-cat with a white pelt. “Snow, you be an eagle.”