CHAPTER 2

A chilly wind was blowing from the moor when Firestar and his patrol reached the stream that marked the border with WindClan. Lionblaze’s paws tingled as he padded up to the edge of the bank. This was close to where they had found Ashfur. He tried to shut out the memories of Ashfur’s slick gray body, wedged behind a rock and bobbing in the current. Yet he could not regret Ashfur’s death.

Each cat leaped across the stream and raced into WindClan territory without even checking for scent. Lionblaze guessed that they, too, were spooked by the memory of the dead warrior. Firestar led them on, still at a run, until the stream was hidden behind them by rocks and reeds.

Lionblaze tasted the air and shivered. There was a tang of snow that must have come from the mountains. A dark haze like storm clouds crouched on the horizon; Lionblaze knew he was looking at the distant home of the Tribe of Rushing Water. How are they managing? he wondered. Leaf-bare would be even harder where snow lay thick on bare rock and prey was scarce. But I wish I could go back, he added to himself, knowing he meant not just back to the mountains, but back in time as well. When I was with the Tribe, I knew who I was and where my destiny was leading.

“There are WindClan cats nearby,” Firestar meowed.

Lionblaze jumped guiltily; thinking about the Tribe, he had never noticed the WindClan scent, though it was strong and fresh. For the first time he started to wonder how their mission would turn out. There was still hostility between ThunderClan and WindClan; Onestar was bound to see an accusation behind Firestar’s questions.

The ThunderClan leader headed across the moor toward the WindClan camp with his warriors at his flanks. Wind buffeted their fur, and a strong gust nearly carried Sorreltail off her paws.

“I can’t imagine why cats would choose to live here!” she hissed as she struggled to regain her balance.

“We like it here!” A loud meow rang out across the moorland.

Lionblaze looked up to see a WindClan patrol appearing over the shoulder of the hill. Tornear, the cat who had spoken, was in the lead, followed by Crowfeather, Whitetail, and Heathertail.

Meeting Heathertail’s gaze, Lionblaze saw nothing but cold contempt in the eyes of the cat who had once been his friend—and even more than that. Bitter regret surged through him. As he looked back, those times had been the happiest and easiest of his life, even though he had broken the warrior code to meet Heathertail in the tunnels beneath the forest. Now she looked as if she would have killed him for a couple of mousetails; Lionblaze shuddered as he pictured his own body lying in the stream.

“Greetings, Tornear.” Firestar dipped his head as the WindClan patrol approached.

“What are you doing here?” Tornear sounded wary but not hostile, though Crowfeather’s neck fur was bristling and Whitetail had unsheathed her claws.