I’ve never been in such a noisy place, she thought, trying to find a comfortable spot among the dead leaves. How do the kittypets stand it?

Toward dawn she slipped into a fitful doze, only to be woken again as Lionblaze scrambled out of the nest. Yawning hugely, Hollyleaf followed him.

The orange glow in the sky above the Twolegplace had given way to the pale light of dawn; the roofs of the Twoleg dens were black outlines against the sky. A cold breeze was blowing, and every blade of grass was edged with frost. Brambleclaw and the other Clan cats stood gazing across the grass to the outlying dens of the Twolegplace.

“We need to go back into the Twolegplace,” Brambleclaw began, “and look for that cat we met last night. He has to explain what he meant.”

Hazeltail’s whiskers twitched nervously. “They obviously don’t like strangers around here.”

Birchfall touched her ear with his nose. “There are enough of us here to outnumber a few jumpy kittypets!”

Hollyleaf exchanged a glance with her brother. “I think we’re on Sol’s trail,” Lionblaze murmured, clawing at the grass. “I’ll bet you the fattest vole on the fresh-kill pile that he’s the reason that black-and-white cat was so scared of us.”

Hollyleaf nodded. Curiosity gave her more confidence as she followed Brambleclaw back across the grass and into the gap between the Twoleg nests. She could see that her Clanmates felt the same, padding along with bright eyes and tails held high. We’re warriors! she reminded herself. We don’t have to be afraid of anything.

The breeze strengthened to a bitterly cold wind that swept through the world of hard, red stone as the patrol padded deeper into the Twolegplace. There was barely enough light to make out the right direction, and no sun to melt the ice that covered the puddles beside the Thunderpath.

“I’m so thirsty!” Hollyleaf whimpered. “My tongue feels like a mouse’s pelt.”

While Brambleclaw paused to taste the air, she crouched down beside one of the puddles and touched the ice with her tongue, grateful for the tingling freshness.

“Come on,” the Clan deputy meowed. “This way.”

Hollyleaf tried to jump up, only to stop with a strangled cry of dismay. Her tongue had frozen to the ice; a sharp pain shot through it as she tried to wrench herself free.

“What’s the matter?” Lionblaze asked.

“My tongue…” Hollyleaf could hardly get the words out. “It’th thtuck!”

Lionblaze snorted as he suppressed a mrrow of laughter. Birchfall stooped down until he was nose to nose with Hollyleaf; irritation swelled inside her when she saw amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It’th not funny!” she mumbled as clearly as she could with her tongue plastered to the ice.

“Stand back.” Brackenfur’s calm voice came from behind Hollyleaf. “Let me have a look.” He leaned beside Birchfall, gently shouldering the younger cat out of the way. “Well, you’re certainly stuck,” he went on. Hollyleaf could tell that he was struggling not to laugh, too. “I suppose we could break off the ice. Then you’d have to carry it until it melts.”