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ALLEGIANCES

WINDCLAN

LEADER – Galestar—black-and-white she-cat with blue eyes

DEPUTY – Pebblenose— fluffy gray tom with yellow eyes

MEDICINE CATS – Goldenleaf— gray-and-white she-cat with golden eyes

WARRIORS (toms and she-cats without kits)

Thrushcall— dark brown tabby tom
Huntheart— large black-and-white tom
Icefoot—wiry brown she-cat
Crowflight— tawny she-cat with blue eyes
Berryfall— calico she-cat
Mudsplash— dark brown tom
Peaktail— burly, gray-striped tom
Harewhisker— gray-and-white tom
Flash— gray tabby tom
Whitebreeze— gray-and-white she-cat
Swiftwing— black tom
Petalstep—white she-cat

Apprentice,  Harepaw (a gray tabby tom)

Spotnose— black-and-white she-cat

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

Gustwhisker— black-and-white tom
Dustflower— brown she-cat

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER – Stripestar— brown tabby tom with amber eyes

DEPUTY – Tinyclaw— large ginger-and-white she-cat with yellow eyes

MEDICINE CATS – Kestrelwing— elderly, dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes

   Stoneflower— ginger tom

WARRIORS

Fogdrift— smoke-gray she-cat
Fernwhisper— tawny she-cat with yellow eyes
Grassfoot— sleek black tom
Tumbletail— large black tom
Roughpelt— gray-and-white tom
Hazelfrond— tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes
Rosebush— plump ginger tom

Apprentice,  Owlpaw  (an orange tabby tom)

Whitestep— long-furred white she-cat with green eyes
Frecklepelt— dappled white she-cat
Birdflight— light brown tabby she-cat with green eyes
Spottedpelt— tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat
Gorseclaw— dark brown tabby tom
Fawnpelt— pale brown she-cat
Nettlesting— calico she-cat

QUEENS

Alderbranch— black she-cat (mother to Palekit, a pale gray she-kit, and Songkit, a black-and-white tomkit)

ELDERS

Yarrowflight— brown tabby tom

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER – Snakestar— brown tom with yellow eyes

DEPUTY – Ravencry— black she-cat

MEDICINE CATS – Pinebrush—white she-cat with blue eyes

   Molepelt— black tom with green eyes

WARRIORS

Graytail— dark gray tom

Apprentice,  Thornpaw  (a light brown tom)

RIVERCLAN

LEADER – Birchstar— light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

DEPUTY – Floatweed— black and white tom

MEDICINE CATS – Shineflower— pale yellow she-cat

PROLOGUE

The sun shone down from a clear blue sky, as it always did in the eternal hunting grounds. A cool breeze tempered the green-leaf warmth, swayed the long grass of the meadow, and ruffled Stripestar’s pelt like a gentle paw.

Stripestar lifted his head high, whiskers quivering as he strolled, savoring the rich scents of meadow flowers, damp earth, and a distant waft of prey that made his mouth water. The grass was so green! So soft underpaw! It was all just as he remembered.

A river shimmered up ahead, a coiling band of silver that split the meadow in two, and waiting for him on the bank was a sleek black-and-white she-cat, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that reflected off the water.

Stripestar’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Had she really come to visit him again, and so soon? He felt his pelt prickle with unease. Those crystal-clear eyes were so familiar, but in them was something . . . unknown. At their last meeting she had hissed and growled at him. Was this truly the same Galestar? His dear mate, and the cat he had loved more than any other?

She has changed. Just as I have.

When he reached the bank, Stripestar dipped a cautious paw into the water, watching the ripples spread across the glassy surface. The river ran all the way to the hunting grounds of the wildcats, where Galestar had found her peace at last.

“You’ve come a long way,” he purred softly.

Galestar heaved a deep sigh. “I have been thinking of you . . . ,” she murmured. “And I knew that I had to see you again.”

“I am glad of it.” Stripestar swished his tail. He felt like an awkward kit, butterflies dancing in his belly. “I think of you often,” he admitted. “Always.”

Galestar watched him carefully, a strange look in her eyes. For a while she was silent. “I found happiness after you left,” she told him, at last. “But I have always wondered . . . what if things had gone differently?”

“If there had been no storm,” purred Stripestar.

“No.” Galestar shook her head. “It wasn’t only the storm. We both know that, Stripestar. When did it all change between us? What happened?”

Stripestar looked away. “I made . . . so many mistakes. If only I could have known then what I know now ” He trailed off, then glanced up sharply, met her shining eyes with his own. “But the worst mistake of all was letting you slip away from me.”

“Stripestar—”

“I was so sure I was doing the right thing!” He pounded the earth with his forepaws, aching with frustration. She’s so close—yet so far away. And now all the feelings he’d thought he had overcome were rising up inside him. “Joining our Clans together. Leaving the forest and striking out on our own, just so we could be together. It was the only thing I wanted! But it was wrong. It was all wrong. And it was all my fault.”

“Stripestar.” The softness in her voice made him tremble from head to tail. “We made those decisions. Together. No cat knew how it would all turn out.” She hesitated. “I was angry when we last met, but now I don’t know. After everything that happened, I never dreamed I would see you here.”

“Neither did I,” whispered Stripestar. “And I could hardly bear it.”

He looked down, trying to summon the courage to ask the question that remained in his heart. He was so afraid to hear the answer. But he looked up at last and asked it anyway.

“Galestar,” he mewed. “Tell me the truth. If we had the chance to do it all again—would you?”

Galestar’s silence lasted an eternity. She stared into the distance, her tail twitching as it always did when she considered something of importance.

When she replied, she would not meet his eyes. “Would you?”

Stripestar sighed. “I do not know,” he confessed.

Another silence stretched between them. Once more, Stripestar found himself casting his mind back to the distant past, to the events that even StarClan had forgotten, but that he never could.

Galestar… it all began with her.

His soul stirred as he thought of the moonlit night when he had first met her, so many seasons past.

The night of the Gathering.

CHAPTER ONE

Beneath the branches of the four great oak trees, silver moonlight shifted across the leaf litter. Galepaw crouched, every muscle tensed, as though she were about to pounce on some unfortunate prey scuffling in the undergrowth. But this was no hunt. She licked her lips, ears flattened with worry as the Gathering bickered all around her. The hollow was full of cats from every Clan. No, she reminded herself. Not every Clan.

“Silence! All of you!” Gazing over the crowd from the Great Rock, Swiftstar held his head high, calling for order. The big dark tom who led WindClan arched his back, seeming to fix his gaze on each cat in turn until the whole Gathering fell into an uneasy stillness.

Galepaw shivered, not only from the cool night air. She nuzzled close to her littermate, Crowpaw, who stood firm at her side. Even their mother, Ripplegrass, looked anxious, which did little to ease Galepaw’s own nerves. Crowpaw looked calm, at least—until Galepaw noticed the restless flicking of the tawny she-cat’s tail.

Satisfied, Swiftstar sat back on his haunches. “We cannot go on like this,” he announced. “Twelve moons have passed, and SkyClan has still not returned. It is time to face the truth—they never will.”

More mutters and yowling swept through the Gathering. “We should be ashamed of ourselves!” a pale-furred ThunderClan she-cat meowed.

“StarClan will punish us!” yowled a fearful apprentice of ShadowClan.

“We have betrayed the prophecy of the Blazing Star!” One of the senior warriors of RiverClan looked around with guilty eyes.

Swiftstar raised a paw until every cat had quieted again.

“I speak only what we all know to be true,” he continued. “We are four Clans now, not five. Some cats may say we brought this upon our own heads. I do not deny what I did when SkyClan came begging for WindClan territory. But what good is it to gaze backward?”

Galepaw noticed WindClan’s medicine cat, Larkwing, looking exasperated at their leader’s words. She warned him that StarClan wouldn’t look kindly on driving out Cloudstar’s Clan, Galepaw remembered.

“There is only one question left,” Swiftstar continued. “What are we to do now?”

The other leaders seemed uncomfortable. Redstar of ThunderClan hung his head, while Birchstar looked away. It was left to the leader of ShadowClan to speak up.

“What are you saying, Swiftstar?” asked Dawnstar, cocking her head.

“Listen.” Swiftstar sat up tall, yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he addressed the whole Gathering. “Every cat in SkyClan may be dead. Consider how many Twolegs have come to the forest! How many monsters! They destroyed SkyClan’s territory. Perhaps they destroyed SkyClan, too. But why should they stop there?”

“You speak wisely, Swiftstar,” mewed Birchstar before the Gathering could descend into anxious murmurings again. “We are all vulnerable, just as SkyClan was. We should all be afraid.” The tabby she-cat who led RiverClan hesitated, ears flattened. “I fear I fear the day may come when we shall all

have to leave this forest of ours.”

This time there was no stopping the gasps and panicked meowing from the gathered cats.

“That could never happen!” “Mouse-brain! Of course it could!”

“The Twolegs care nothing for us, or our territory!”

Galepaw shrank back, fur bristling as the grown-up cats argued fiercely on all sides. Is every Gathering so angry? She had

been excited earlier that night, making her first journey to the hollow under a full moon. Now her heart was thudding with alarm. All these brave warriors, and no one seems to know what to do!

She huddled closer to Crowpaw. “Do you think we really will have to leave the forest?” she asked, trying not to let her voice tremble with fear.

“Where would we even go?” added Crowpaw, her big blue eyes wide.

Galepaw could tell her sister was just as horrified by the idea as she was. The forest was all the two of them had ever known. Now that she thought about it, Galepaw realized that she had never even dreamed of what might lie beyond it. Surely the trees go on forever and ever! She knew in her heart it wasn’t so— but what else could there be? A barren wasteland, perhaps? At the thought, another shudder ran through her, from head to tail-tip.

Ripplegrass curled her tail fondly around the littermates, gathering them close and giving them each a gentle lick on the ear. “It’s not for young apprentices to worry about such matters,” she purred softly. “You are not even warriors yet! Besides, nothing has been decided. Leave your elders to their squabbling. And perhaps a drink of water might calm your nerves? We will find you when the Gathering is done.”

Galepaw couldn’t help noticing that Ripplegrass had not answered their questions. But all the same, relief flooded her at the thought of escaping the strained atmosphere in the hollow.

Crowpaw drew herself up proudly. “I will stay,” she said firmly. She’s trying to sound brave, Galepaw understood, even if she doesn’t feel it. Crowpaw was skilled at hiding her emotions, but Galepaw had always been bolder than her sister. Even as a little kit, Crowpaw had hardly dared to step outside the nursery without their mother.

After giving Crowpaw a parting nuzzle, Galepaw slunk back toward the shadows.

“Where are you going?” hissed Pebblepaw as she passed. The fluffy gray apprentice stared at her with eager yellow eyes.

“To find a puddle,” Galepaw replied. “My throat’s dry.”

“I could come with you,” he suggested.

His friend Thrushpaw snorted and rolled his eyes. “I think Galepaw can find a little water without any help. Or did you want to drink it for her too?”

Pebblepaw hunched over, fluffing up even more in his embarrassment. He was always offering to accompany Galepaw—and Thrushpaw was always teasing him for it.

“I won’t be long,” Galepaw meowed quickly, hoping to stop Pebblepaw from feeling bad. “Perhaps afterward you could tell me what I missed?”

Pebblepaw nodded vigorously.

Galepaw climbed the slope, then pushed through the bushes that ran all around the hollow and left the clamor of the Gathering behind her.

A chilly breeze cut through her pelt as she emerged into the open. Here and there, moonlight gleamed off puddles left by the recent rains. But she soon found that most of them were shallow, or cloudy with dirt. Flicking her tail in frustration, she was about to turn back when she spotted another cat, head lowered as he drank from a large pool of clear water.

He looked young—an apprentice, just like her—but he was already large and muscled. He stood silhouetted against the night sky, his body dark, but the edges of his brown fur gleamed. A strange shiver ran through Galepaw at the sight of him. Almost without realizing it, she approached.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The tom looked up, droplets falling from his whiskers. His eyes glittered in a way that made Galepaw feel warm and welcome. “You got kicked out too?” he asked.

“Not exactly.” She hesitated, feeling oddly embarrassed. “It’s my first Gathering,” she admitted. “I think my mother, Ripplegrass, felt things were getting a little too . . .”

“Yowly?” offered the stranger.

Galepaw let out a snort of laughter. “Yowly,” she agreed. “Don’t tell any cat,” she purred, after a pause.

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” The young tom moved aside, letting Galepaw swallow a few gulps of rainwater. “It’s my first Gathering too. Though now I’m wondering if it might be our last.”

Galepaw’s heart sank. “Not you too!”

The tom chuckled. “Well, I don’t really think so. Although some of my Clanmates are saying that we never should have let SkyClan leave. They seem convinced that it’s the beginning of the end for all Clans. So who knows?”

“And your Clan is . . . ?”

“ThunderClan. I’m Stripepaw. Pleased to meet you.” “Galepaw, from WindClan.”

“Galepaw. It’s a good name.” His amber eyes gleamed in the darkness, and a confusing thrill spread through Galepaw—a spike of disappointment that Stripepaw was in a different Clan, and a warm rush as she caught the scent of him, rich with pine needles and bracken.

Galepaw didn’t know how long they sat talking beside the pool of water. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye, both at the same time. And how can it be that I feel so excited, yet so calm?

“. . . besides, even if we did have to leave the forest, how bad could it really be?” Stripepaw was saying.

“Terrible! Awful!” cried Galepaw, opening her eyes wide in mock horror. They both chuckled, and Galepaw couldn’t help but marvel at how her fear really was vanishing, like morning dew scorched away by a hot greenleaf sun.

“But really,” she added with a frown, “I just can’t imagine anything else. I feel so safe here, where the Clans have lived for generations. If we had to leave, who knows what dangers we might run into? We could be prey for hawks or badgers . . . or something even worse.”

“You’re right,” mewed Stripepaw, nodding thoughtfully. “But you’re forgetting one thing. What if we leave, and it’s better than you could ever imagine?”

Galepaw thumped her tail doubtfully.

“Listen,” Stripepaw went on, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “We’re only afraid of the world beyond the forest because we’ve never seen it. But the world is huge! Or so I’ve heard. There must be other wonderful places to live, where the sun shines even in leaf-bare and the prey runs well each day!”

“And the rabbits are all plump and juicy!” added Galepaw. “And even the rats taste delicious!” Stripepaw playfully swiped at her, and she rolled clear, her whiskers twitching with happiness.

When was the last time I felt so relaxed? Galepaw wondered. She had been so busy thinking of things that could go wrong, she hadn’t stopped to dream of what might go right. I almost hope we do have to leave!

“Do you know what I think?” Stripepaw gazed out across the moonlit forest. There was a look of wonder about him. “I think there must be other cats out there. And not just Clan cats. Cats that look nothing like us!”

Galepaw couldn’t hold in a snort of amusement. “Cats with no fur?” she suggested.

To her surprise, Stripepaw only nodded. “Of course cats with no fur. And cats who walk around on their hind legs.”

“Like Twolegs!” Galepaw sat up beside him, staring out like he was. “How about . . . cats as red as strawberries in greenleaf?”

“Cats that change color! Strawberry-red in greenleaf, apple-green in leaf-fall . . .”

“Ooh! Cats with giant paws! Bad for walking . . .”

“. . . but good for catching mice!”

They both rolled around, meowing with laughter until Galepaw’s sides ached.

She could hardly believe that just a little while ago she had been almost sick with worry about the future of the Clans. Now here she was, having the best night of her life. I should thank him for that. She was about to say something when a cry split the air.

“Five! There must always be five Clans! Have none of you heard of the Blazing Star?”

The cry came from the hollow. Galepaw and Stripepaw looked at each other, and at once the spell was broken. They turned tail and darted back through the bushes, tumbling down the slope and skidding to a halt in the shadows at the rear of the Gathering.

Every cat had turned to listen to a skinny black tom who sat at the foot of the Great Rock. Molepelt. ShadowClan’s medicine cat was small and slight, but his voice carried easily across the assembled warriors. “SkyClan made its choice,” she was saying. “It is no fault of ours that the Twolegs came and took their territory. Who can blame us for that?”

“Maybe so,” mewed another voice. “But we made a choice too—not to share our territory.” It was Milkfur who spoke, deputy of WindClan. His pale pelt glowed like the moon itself in the darkened hollow. “We all knew that SkyClan was starving. We knew that they were desperate. And what did we do?” He looked at Seedpelt, ThunderClan’s deputy, as though waiting for an answer.

Seedpelt’s back arched, her gray fur bristling. “Why ask me, Milkfur?” she hissed.

“Why not? It was Redstar who told SkyClan to leave the forest. If there is to be blame for SkyClan leaving, the fault surely lies with ThunderClan.”

A fresh chorus of angry yelps and mews broke out at Milkfur’s words, ThunderClan cats clawing the air and spitting with outrage.

“Enough!” Once again, the Gathering quieted at Molepelt’s calm voice. “What use is it to point paws? None of us chose to share our territory with SkyClan. Now they are gone, just as Swiftstar says, and we must find a path forward. Some of you believe we should have done more to help SkyClan. But if so, why did StarClan stay silent? They sent no message, no warning to any medicine cat, in any Clan. Perhaps StarClan meant for SkyClan to leave the forest.”

“Then let us talk of this path forward,” mewed Milkfur, before any cat could disagree with Molepelt’s words. “Let us talk of what remains of SkyClan’s territory, and how ThunderClan has decided to seize it all for themselves!”

This time the uproar was even louder, with cats from every Clan yowling their opinion.

“It’s not fair!”

“SkyClan’s territory should be split between all the Clans!” “How dare ThunderClan take it?”

Redstar only shook his head in frustration at the quarrel, but Seedpelt unsheathed her claws and snarled at Milkfur. “The territory is right next to ThunderClan’s! Besides, it’s barely big enough to be of use to us. What good would it be to WindClan, or to any other Clan?”

Galepaw’s heart was sinking all over again.

“They’ll never agree on anything!” whispered Stripepaw, echoing her own thoughts. He cast her a shy glance. “You know, I really hope the next time we meet, it won’t be in a fight. I . . . really liked talking to you.”

Butterflies danced in Galepaw’s belly. “Me too. Even if you do smell of trees.” She gave him a gentle nudge to make sure he knew that she was joking. “I only wish that . . .” She felt suddenly nervous, without quite knowing why. “I wish that we were apprentices together. Even gathering moss might be fun with a, er . . .”

“Friend?”

“Friend like you.”

“And spending all day picking ticks out of the elders’ pelts?

Would that be fun?”

Maybe it would, with Stripepaw. Galepaw only hoped the darkness hid her cringe of embarrassment.

They stared at each other, Stripepaw’s amber eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark.

“There you are!” The irritable hiss made Galepaw start in surprise. Her mentor, Squirrelbrush, was bustling toward her. “I’ve been looking all over!” she grumbled.

All at once Galepaw realized that the Gathering had ended, and she hadn’t even noticed. Cats were stirring all around, slinking out of the hollow in twos and threes and muttering crossly to one another. Nothing’s been decided, Galepaw realized. And every cat is still angry.

“Come on! We’re holding up the Clan,” Squirrelbrush complained. She butted Galepaw with her nose, nudging her up the slope to where the shadowy shapes of WindClan were pushing through the bushes.

Galepaw twisted, trying to look over her shoulder. She caught a brief glimpse of Stripepaw being hustled away by his own mentor. The tom cast a quick glance back, and their eyes met one last time before the crowd of cats parted them and they were back with their own Clans.

Back where we belong. Forever.

A flash of sadness ran through her at the thought.

Galepaw was pawsore, limbs heavy with tiredness, by the time they crept back in among the gorse bushes of WindClan’s camp.

Most cats were already slinking off to their dens, but she spotted Pebblepaw over by the fresh-kill pile. The fluffy gray apprentice was tugging out a small vole with his teeth. He pulled it clear and carried it over to a clump of grass to set aside, while Thrushpaw looked on. Thrushpaw seemed strangely thoughtful until he saw Galepaw watching too— then he gave a great roll of his eyes that made her snort with laughter in spite of herself. Luckily, Pebblepaw didn’t notice.

Voles were Galepaw’s favorite prey, and she had no doubt that the little offering was meant for her. It’s sweet of him. Isn’t it? Pebblepaw was a fine tom, strong and brave and thoughtful. Every cat in WindClan thought so. One day he would make an excellent mate.

Galepaw frowned, trying to imagine a life with Pebblepaw— being his mate, bearing a litter together. But all she could picture was a strong young apprentice from ThunderClan with warm amber eyes and a rich brown pelt.

She couldn’t hold in a sigh. She already knew who her mate was going to be . . . and it wasn’t a cat from ThunderClan.

CHAPTER TWO

Seasons later, a pawful of warriors slipped through the shadows, stalking down the slopes and into the hollow of Fourtrees to join their leader.

Stripestar could feel the tension running through his Clanmates like the heaviness in the air before a storm. His pelt itched from the heat of the greenleaf sun, and the cool darkness beneath the branches of the oaks would have been a welcome relief at any other time.

“Rest a little,” he ordered. “Gather your strength for what is to come.”

Some of his Clanmates stretched out, panting, while others prowled back and forth, unable to relax. And no wonder.

Casting his gaze around the hollow, a familiar memory came to Stripestar: many seasons before, when he had been Stripepaw attending his very first Gathering. That was the night he had met Galepaw for the first time, and they had drunk rainwater and dreamed together of a life beyond the forest.

StarClan! It seemed like a memory from another life entirely. Those apprentices would never have imagined that one day they would both lead their own Clans. Or that those Clans might meet in battle.

“Are you sure about this, Stripestar?”

The voice of his deputy, Tinyclaw, startled Stripestar from his thoughts. The ginger-and-white she-cat was large despite her name, and Stripestar had rarely seen her look rattled by anything. But today her ears were flattened with worry and her tail was twitching restlessly. “It’s just . . . we’re not at full strength. Perhaps this battle can wait?”

Stripestar considered her words. There was no doubt the Clan was short of warriors. The dens were full to bursting with kits, all needing fresh-kill and protection. He’d been forced to leave some of his best warriors behind to guard the camp, to watch over them. All the more reason to strike now.

“We must send WindClan a message,” he told Tinyclaw firmly. “If they keep stealing ThunderClan prey, our kits will starve—and our warriors with them. We must attack now, while our warriors still have strength.”

Tinyclaw only dipped her head in reply. Stripestar could tell she disagreed but didn’t want to challenge him.

“Time to go!” he growled before he could think twice about her warning.

As Stripestar led his warriors up out of the hollow on the far side, a smoke-gray cat slipped alongside him. Stripestar felt relieved to have his mate so close, and for a while they walked silently through the long grass, until Fogdrift spoke.

“WindClan territory,” she murmured, nodding at the ground that rose up ahead. “If we keep going, there may be no turning back.”

“And why would we turn back?”

Fogdrift hesitated. “I heard what Tinyclaw was saying,” she admitted. “I wonder is she right?”

“Not you too!” Stripestar snorted.

“I don’t mean it’s wrong to fight,” Fogdrift added quickly. “But is it a fight we can win right now?”

Stripestar felt his pelt prickling with annoyance. Twelve moons as leader, and still every cat seems to doubt my decisions! “Trust me,” he growled.

“I do, Stripestar. You know I do.” Her words softened him at once, and he had no doubt of their truth. “Listen. If you really believe that this will stop WindClan from hunting on ThunderClan territory, then I’m with you. Just promise me that you aren’t doing this to prove anything. You’ve shown the Clan that you are a great leader, time and time again. Even before you actually were leader.”

Stripestar shook his head in wonder. All his frustration melted away in the warmth of his mate’s love.

Once, when they were apprentices, he had been annoyed by Fogpaw always watching him, always telling him to be careful or to look out or watch your head. It had taken him many moons to understand. She only does it because she loves me. He couldn’t remember when it was that he had come to love her back. His feelings for her had grown slowly, like a new, green sapling. Now, more than anything, he valued her gentle warnings and her concern for the Clan. And for me.

“I made a wise decision,” he murmured.

“You mean—”

“I mean when I chose you to be my mate.” He gently nuzzled Fogdrift’s flank. “I hope I am making another wise decision now. I don’t take it lightly, facing WindClan. But we have put off the battle for long enough. We can’t let other cats think that ThunderClan does not protect its borders.”

“Agreed.” Fogdrift nodded with determination. “Well, then. Let’s show WindClan what we’re made of!” Stripestar felt a sudden surge of affection for her. It was true. She’s with me.

Tinyclaw pulled up suddenly, whiskers twitching as she scented the air.

“What is it?” asked Stripestar, hackles rising.

“I can smell them,” hissed Tinyclaw. “WindClan.” Stripestar caught it too now, a distant waft on the breeze.

His pelt prickled with anticipation, and his claws tingled to be unsheathed. “Be ready,” he called. “For ThunderClan!”

A stiff breeze flattened the warriors’ fur as they crested a rise and reached the moor. A tangle of thick gorse and purple-flowering heather grew up ahead, marking the edge of the WindClan camp.

Crouching low, Stripestar crept forward at the head of his warriors. There’s the camp . . . But where is WindClan?

A sudden yelp to their right answered his question. Jerking his head, he spotted two cats speeding away from a clump of heather where they must have been lying in wait, watching. A patrol!

Stripestar tensed, his mind racing. Do we give chase, or attack the camp? It was tempting to press on—but if he let those cats go free, they would surely raise the alarm. “After them!” he yowled.

ThunderClan took off as one, racing across the moor in pursuit of the WindClan patrol. Stripestar’s heart leaped with the joy of the chase, and for a few short breaths everything seemed simple.

The WindClan scouts rounded a heap of heather, disappearing from view. Stripestar and his warriors followed, then came skidding to a halt. The Thunderpath lay ahead, looking like a dark scar carved across the land. And from among the trees that grew beside it, a large pack of WindClan warriors approached, led by a sleek black-and-white she-cat whom Stripestar recognized at once.

Galestar!

The scouts joined their Clanmates, forming a loose line as WindClan’s new leader darted forward alone. She moves like the wind itself, Stripestar thought. Flowing fast across the ground, those sky-blue eyes shining with purpose.

Instinctively, he looked for Galestar’s deputy and mate. Pebblenose is always at her side. But not today—there was the fluffy gray warrior, hanging back among the mass of WindClan cats. With a jerk of his head, Stripestar summoned Tinyclaw to his side. “Normally they’re joined at the tail,” he whispered, with a nod at Pebblenose. “So what do you make of this? Do you think they had an argument?”

“Oh—you haven’t heard? It’s only gossip, of course. But at the last Gathering, Icefoot told Tumbletail that Galestar and Pebblenose have parted ways. He remains her deputy.”

But not her mate.

Stripestar’s heart fluttered. He shook himself and arched his back. This was no time to act all giddy—and for what? A distant memory of two young apprentices gazing into each other’s eyes beneath a full moon. Stripestar snorted at his foolishness. He had a mate already, in his own Clan. Besides, I’m not a kit anymore. I’m a warrior, and a leader, come face–to–face with a formidable foe.

If anything, Galestar looked even fiercer without Pebblenose at her side. There was a gentleness about WindClan’s deputy that had always seemed to soften their leader. But today Stripestar saw only defiance in the set of Galestar’s features as she stopped barely a whisker short of ThunderClan.

“Turn back, Stripestar,” she snarled. “So my warriors need not spill your warriors’ blood.”

I don’t want to fight her.

Stripestar thrust the thought away and returned a snarl of his own. “I could say the same to you, Galestar. We wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t scented WindClan all over our territory. Admit it! Your warriors have been hunting on ThunderClan territory, stealing prey from the mouths of our kits. Did you think that I would simply allow this, like a frightened mouse?”

To his surprise, Galestar simply scoffed. “You lie, Stripestar. My Clanmates would never do such a thing.”

A low growl sounded from close by. Turning, Stripestar saw that it was Fogdrift. She stalked forward, her pelt bristling, her claws glinting. “Call him a liar again,” she hissed.

“Wait!” Stripestar cried. But it was too late—Fogdrift flew at Galestar with a yowl, claws flashing.

Battle cries rang through the air as WindClan charged in to defend their leader, paws pounding the earth, kicking up dust into the hot greenleaf air.

No turning back now. Fogdrift’s words. “ThunderClan!” roared Stripestar. “Attack!”

The two Clans slammed into each other, cats on all sides mewling and spitting and slashing furiously. Stripestar hurled himself at a burly, gray-striped tom who was making for Tinyclaw, caught the WindClan warrior off balance, and drove him down into the dirt.

As he wrestled the cat into submission, Stripestar got a glimpse of Fogdrift out of the corner of his eye. She was still hissing at Galestar, clawing savagely at her pelt. Galestar must have been taken by surprise. But she was fighting back now, battering Fogdrift with a flurry of heavy blows.

Stripestar lurched forward, abandoning his groaning opponent. I’m coming, Fogdrift! But hot pain stabbed through his ankle, making him yowl and twist back. A wiry brown WindClan warrior had sunk her teeth deep into him, trying to shake him like a captured squirrel. Stripestar howled and kicked his leg, throwing off his attacker, then butted her hard with his head, sending her staggering and wailing into a prickly gorse bush.

Turning once again, Stripestar tried to spot his mate among the snarling mass of warriors tearing and ripping at each other in the heat.

There! His heart thundered as he saw the she-cats tussling. Fogdrift was driving Galestar back with the sheer fury of her attack. But Galestar was nimbler. She ducked a vicious swipe and rammed her head into Fogdrift’s flank, sending Fogdrift rolling through the grass.

Shaking out her fur, Galestar snorted and bunched her hind legs, preparing to pounce.

No! Stripestar darted forward.

But the pounce never came. Galestar froze. Stripestar stumbled to a halt.

Fogdrift lay motionless, her fur rippling in the breeze.

Something’s wrong. Stripestar knew it at once, a hot flash of fear deep in his chest. Why isn’t she getting up?

Cautiously, Galestar crept forward, belly low, whiskers twitching as though she half expected Fogdrift to come surging up at her at any moment.

Fogdrift did not.

Suddenly the WindClan leader let out a soft gasp and dashed across the grass, her paws coming down on the gray she-cat’s head. In the same instant, Stripestar saw what Galestar must have seen, and a chill spread through his body from head to tail-tip.

Blood!

“Fogdrift!” This time he didn’t hesitate. He charged, heart pounding wildly. What was Galestar doing? Was she trying to kill her? He bunched his hind legs, ready to pounce. But then he saw—Galestar was trying to use her paws to staunch the bleeding.

It was hopeless. Galestar’s eyes met his, wide with horror. Her white paws were already stained red. “I didn’t . . . ,” she gabbled. “I didn’t mean to—”

“What have you done?” Stripestar wailed. The blood was gushing from the back of Fogdrift’s head, seeping fast into the soil. Her eyes were glassy, as lifeless as pebbles at the bottom of the river.

It’s over, he realized.

He stared at his mate, blinking in disbelief.

“It was an accident.” The words came to him as though through a fog. Galestar. She was trying to talk to him. “There— see? That rock, hidden in the grass. When I pushed her away, her head must have hit it. I had no idea I would never have dreamed of ”

“Enough.” Stripestar didn’t recognize his own voice. His claws slid out, and he fixed Galestar with a furious gaze.

A gray blur shot out of nowhere, and suddenly Pebblenose was there in between them, butting Galestar away. The WindClan deputy shot Stripestar a nervous look over his shoulder, yellow eyes full of panic. “WindClan!” he meowed. “Retreat!” Stripestar felt the anger drain from him, leaving only a dull heaviness. He turned back to Fogdrift. He watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, then still. He could only stare at her, stricken, as though they had both turned to stone.

Dimly he became aware of ThunderClan warriors crowding around him, nudging him with their noses, rubbing his flank with theirs.

“They’re on the run, Stripestar!”

“Fogdrift? Fogdrift, what’s wrong?”

“Stripestar? Stripestar!”

Stripestar’s gaze focused gradually on Tinyclaw, who had spoken. The big she-cat’s eyes were shining with grief. “Should we follow them?” she asked. “We can still catch them. We can still take revenge.”

What’s the use? Fogdrift is already gone. He gave only a small shake of his head.

Beyond, he finally noticed the rock that Galestar had pointed out. A gray, jagged slab, half hidden by long grass and stained red with the blood of his mate.

Looking up across the moor, Stripestar saw the WindClan warriors fleeing, heading toward their camp and disappearing among the heather and the gorse, until there were only two cats left. Pebblenose was frantically tugging at Galestar’s pelt, trying to haul her to safety, but WindClan’s leader was oblivious, stumbling in a daze. She looked almost as horrified as Stripestar felt.

As Stripestar watched, he saw Galestar cast a glance back and freeze, ears pricked, as she met his gaze. Her eyes glittered with pain, and she lurched suddenly toward Stripestar, almost shaking Pebblenose off before he managed finally to pull her away, over a rise and out of sight.

For a heartbeat, Stripestar could have sworn she was trying to say something.

Two words, to make up for what she had done.

I’m sorry.

CHAPTER THREE

The heat of the long day lingered, even in the shade beneath Galestar’s gorse-bush den.

Galestar lay motionless, staring into space. At any other time she would be strolling around the camp, savoring the glorious greenleaf evening, the lengthening shadows and the golden light of sunset filtering through the heather. But tonight she felt empty and numb to all the beauty of the season she loved most.

The branches rustled as Pebblenose pushed his way through, head bowed shyly, like a nervous kit. He padded to her side and dropped a vole at her feet. It was plump and warm, and the delicious smell of it filled her nostrils and made her belly rumble.

Silently, Pebblenose settled down beside her. When she made no move to eat, he nudged her softly with his head. “Come on, eat something,” he pleaded. “It’s your favorite.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Pebblenose sighed. “You know,” he purred sadly, “starving yourself won’t change what happened. And it won’t help your Clan, either. You are a leader, Galestar. Your Clanmates need you.”

“Do they?”

“What do you mean?” He sounded puzzled.

“I mean, perhaps StarClan made a mistake.” She couldn’t look at him—the shame burned too deeply for that. “Perhaps they should never have made me leader. Never given me nine lives. It all happened so quickly! One moment I was an apprentice. The next I was a warrior. Then a deputy, when old Milkfur retired to the elders’ den.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “I’d hardly come to grips with that when Swiftstar lost his last life. Now I’m the leader of WindClan!” She gave a soft snort of disbelief. “Four moons, and I still don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I’ll never be ready.”

“Galestar—” Pebblenose began.

“Admit it! A real leader would have been able to talk some sense into ThunderClan. They wouldn’t have gotten into a scrape over some silly rumor of cats hunting on their territory. A real leader would never have called Stripestar a liar. And then, maybe . . . maybe his mate would still be alive. Maybe—”

“Galestar!” Pebblenose’s anger took her aback, and she turned to him at last. He batted her paw and gave her a stern look. “No cat thinks that. StarClan did not make a mistake. And your rise to leader was no accident! Let me help you see what others see clearly. You have always been wise, and strong, and kind. You have always had the qualities of a good leader—a great leader—and you are only suffering now because you have a good heart. You hate to shed blood—as any wise leader should! But what happened to Fogdrift was not your fault. Do you hear me? You were defending yourself and your Clan. And when she lay stricken, did you not try to save her?”

“I tried,” whispered Galestar. “And failed.”

“You tried. And that is enough. You are enough.”

Galestar’s heart warmed a little at Pebblenose’s words. He’s always stuck up for me. Always stood by me. She knew there was no cat in all the forest she could trust more.

It was almost enough to make her wonder why they hadn’t stayed together. Almost. But deep down, she knew that it had never been right. She loved Pebblenose, but not like a mate should be loved. He had never made her heart soar. She only wished it hadn’t taken her so long to understand that. She wished they had been spared the fruitless attempts to bear a litter. That was what it had taken, in the end, to make them both see the truth.

We’re friends, and that’s what we’ll always be.

Pebblenose spent most of his time with Thrushcall now, and he seemed all the happier for it. It brought Galestar happiness, too, to see Pebblenose content at last.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself up on her forelegs. “Thank you, Pebblenose,” she murmured, nuzzling her ex-mate. “I mean it. You’re a true friend. But now now I need to speak with Stripestar.”

Pebblenose started, as though stung by a nettle. “Did I hear you right?”

“I need to apologize to him,” explained Galestar. “It’s the least I can do.”

Pebblenose’s ears twitched the way they always did when he was anxious. “But Galestar, think of how dangerous that could be. Our Clans just fought a battle, for StarClan’s sake! They accused our warriors of stealing their prey, even before Fogdrift’s death. And what if he wants revenge?”

“I would not blame him if he did,” muttered Galestar, glancing down at her paws in shame. “As for the battle . . . that was foolishness on both sides. WindClan has no need to go skulking in ThunderClan territory, stealing prey that does not belong to us. We are hunters—fierce and bold, with plenty of prey of our own!”

Pebblenose dipped his head, suddenly uncomfortable. “I wish it were so.”

“What do you mean?” asked Galestar sharply.

“I mean . . . some of the warriors have been saying that the prey runs poorly this season.” Finally Pebblenose met her gaze with a regretful expression. “I’m sorry, Galestar, but . . . the rumor is true. After the battle, some warriors confessed to crossing the border. I suppose they thought that with ThunderClan claiming all of SkyClan’s territory for their own, they wouldn’t complain about missing a few hares elsewhere.”

Galestar felt anger boiling in her belly. How dare my warriors break the code? But her fury was quickly overwhelmed by guilt. Stripestar had been right after all. And she’d called him a liar for it.

“I will deal with my Clanmates when I return,” she hissed. “For now, I have even more reason to apologize to Stripestar.”

“He will not welcome you,” Pebblenose warned her. “And who can say what his warriors may do if they find you at their border? Let ThunderClan comfort ThunderClan’s leader.”

Galestar nodded. “You were always wiser than me, Pebblenose,” she mewed. “One day, that wisdom will make you a great leader of WindClan.”

Pebblenose sank back, the relief plain on his features. “Thank StarClan! You’ll stay here, then?”

“No.” Galestar shook her head. “Wise or not, I must speak with Stripestar. It’s my fault his mate is dead. Watch over the Clan for me while I’m gone.”

Under a deep blue twilit sky, Galestar crept through Fourtrees toward the border with ThunderClan territory. As soon as she padded beneath the branches of the beech trees, she caught a scent that made her pelt bristle. ThunderClan warriors! A chill spread through her that had nothing to do with the cool of the coming night. Now that she was actually here, with the scent of hostile cats in her nostrils, she was starting to have second thoughts. What ThunderClan warrior would look kindly on the she-cat who had killed their leader’s mate? Perhaps Pebblenose was right after all. He had told her not to do this.

He had told her to stay away.

But he also told me to trust myself.

The bushes rustled up ahead, and a pair of ThunderClan warriors emerged, prowling with tails raised as they moved out to either side of her.

Galestar’s muscles tensed, her claws itching to slide out. But she forced herself to relax.

The ThunderClan cats looked even more nervous than she felt. Their fur stood on end, their tails stiffened, as they cast anxious glances into the shadowy undergrowth. She could tell at once what they were thinking. Where are the other WindClan cats who must be lying in wait?

“I’m alone,” she promised, dipping her head to show that she didn’t want a fight. “And I come in peace.”

One of the warriors, a tawny she-cat who reminded Galestar of her sister Crowflight, gave a contemptuous snort. “You can’t expect us to believe that!” She called out to the surrounding trees. “Come out, you weasel-hearts. Face us like warriors!”

“No cat is coming,” purred Galestar calmly.

After a few moments, the ThunderClan cats seemed to accept it was the truth. But they still glared at her, making no attempt to hide their hostility.

“How dare you, of all cats, threaten to cross into our territory?” demanded the other ThunderClan warrior, a sleek black tom with green eyes.

“I wish to speak with Stripestar.”

“Too bad!” snarled the tom. “Do you think he wants to have a friendly talk with the cat who slew Fogdrift?”

“Go back to WindClan,” added the tawny she-cat. “Before we slash open your belly!”

Galestar sighed, feeling suddenly weary. What could she do in the face of such anger? They were grieving for Fogdrift and for Stripestar. As they have every right to. There was no sense in arguing, so instead she turned silently and walked away.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance as Galestar made her way back to the WindClan camp. Night was falling fast now, laying shadows like cobwebs across the land. Fourtrees loomed ahead, the great oaks seeming dark and lifeless tonight, with no breeze to stir their branches and no moonlight to silver their leaves.

Galestar stopped, staring at the Gathering place where she had first met Stripestar all those moons ago. How different it had seemed on that night—a place of excitement and possibility. And how different she had been, joking and sharing dreams with another young apprentice, so full of hope . . .

Abruptly, she turned and slipped in among the trees again, heading once more for the ThunderClan camp. I can’t leave things like this.

A delicious scent prickled in her nostrils. Rabbit! Her belly rumbled. She hadn’t eaten all day but then she had a better idea. A peace offering. At least then Stripestar might understand how sorry she was.

Crouching low, Galestar followed the scent trail, her whiskers twitching.

There! She spotted the furry brown creature hopping among the gnarly roots of an ancient, twisting beech tree. No Clanmates to cut off the rabbit’s escape routes. I’ll just have to do this on my own, quiet and fast.

Despite everything, Galestar’s body tingled with the thrill of the hunt. She padded closer, moving carefully so that the leaf litter would muffle each paw step.

The rabbit’s ears pricked up, and she froze.

Patience. It was tempting to pounce, but she wasn’t an apprentice anymore. She was a leader, smart and experienced. In hunting, at least. She knew when to strike, and she knew when to wait.

A heartbeat passed, then another. Finally, the rabbit’s ears drooped. It had relaxed. Now! Galestar darted forward, bunched her hind legs, and leaped, silent and deadly. Her jaws closed with a snap on the rabbit’s neck, hot blood filling her mouth and spotting the forest floor. The prey was dead before it knew what had happened.

Pride filled Galestar’s heart at a hunt well executed.

And now comes the difficult part.

Resisting the impulse to gobble the rabbit down herself, Galestar carried the fresh-kill back through the forest.

She had hoped to find the ThunderClan patrol again, but the clearing where they’d challenged her was empty. Galestar felt a twinge of disappointment. Perhaps it’s for the best, she told herself. She dropped the rabbit on the ground. Hopefully they’ll find it. And hopefully they’ll understand it is a gift—an atonement for what I’ve done. It was a lot to hope for. With a heavy heart, she turned away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Two pairs of eyes gleamed in the shadows, and the two ThunderClan warriors emerged, looking every bit as suspicious as before.

“You’re coming with us,” the black tom told Galestar gruffly. “Stripestar does want to talk with you after all. Though StarClan knows why.”

Galestar’s heart spiked with anxiety. Is it only a talk that he wants with me? But it was too late to back out now. She drew herself up tall. “Very well. I am ready.”

Carrying the rabbit in her mouth, Galestar followed the stealthy ThunderClan cats beneath the trees, scrambling over boulders and pushing through ferns until at last they reached the sandy ravine where ThunderClan made their camp. She felt a rush of relief that she had chosen to come at night, when there were only a pawful of guards awake to see her here. The whole Clan must be furious with me.

The ThunderClan cats stopped and sat beside a great rock at one end of the camp, nodding her in through a dark crevice. Galestar lowered her head, treading carefully into a little cave encrusted with lichen and trying to ignore the racing of her heart.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the den, but she recognized the pine scent of Stripestar at once. A nest of moss was piled up to one side, and lying there on his side, motionless, was the leader of ThunderClan.

A great wave of sorrow overcame her at the sight. Stripestar’s ears drooped. His eyes stared blankly into nothingness. If he had noticed her entering, he gave no sign of it. He’s deep in grief. It was plain to see.

Galestar dropped the fresh-kill at Stripestar’s muzzle. “I brought you something.”

The tom stirred at last. He lifted his head to sniff at the rabbit, then dropped it again. “Thanks. But I can’t eat.”

“Because of me. Because of what I did.” Galestar hung her head. “Stripestar, I I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry for your loss. I want you to know, I never meant for it to happen. I wouldn’t even have fought you, if I’d known the truth. Pebblenose told me that WindClan warriors really were hunting on ThunderClan territory. I had no idea. But I promise you, it will never happen again.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” replied Stripestar in a dull voice.

“And that rock! If only I had seen it . . . but it was hidden by the grass. I swear to you, I did all I could to save Fogdrift. Knowing that I couldn’t save her is a pain I will bear forever, even in the hunting grounds of StarClan, and . . .” She paused for breath. I’m babbling. I sound like a fool. She didn’t know how to explain—how to make him understand. And from the anguish in his eyes, she was starting to worry that she was doing more harm than good. “You have to believe me, Stripestar,” she finished at last.

A long silence stretched out between them, before Stripestar replied.

“I do. I believe you, Galestar.”

I ought to feel relieved, Galestar thought. But her own heart was heavy with grief now, just as Stripestar’s was. She hesitated, wanting desperately to offer him some comfort. But no words she could think of seemed right.

“May I . . . ?” she muttered, lowering herself down next to him. And when he gave no reply, she lay there, feeling awkward and somehow sure that she had done the wrong thing.

“You didn’t need to bring a gift,” Stripestar murmured at last. “I asked my warriors to bring you here because . . . well, I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened. I only blame myself.”

“No!” spluttered Galestar. “I was the one who—”

“Please…” Stripestar silenced her with a wave of his paw. “Let me explain. It was my decision to attack WindClan. Tinyclaw warned me not to. Fogdrift too. She told me that if I went too far, there would be no turning back. I didn’t know how right she was.”

Galestar hesitated, summoning the courage to ask a question she had been turning over in her own mind. “Why didn’t you turn back? Why force a battle with WindClan?”

Stripestar heaved a sigh as he pushed himself upright. “The truth is, ThunderClan is starving. The prey has not been running well. Not since the Twolegs came. On top of that, the nursery is overflowing with kits from several litters, all born at once.” He let out a groan of frustration. “We have so many mouths to feed! Even the paltry prey your warriors have been taking could make the difference between life and death and see us through these lean times. At least until the kits are old enough to help with the hunting.”

Galestar shook her head sadly. She wanted to offer Stripestar more fresh-kill for his Clan—more than the single rabbit she had brought him. But how can I? ThunderClan’s troubles are the same as WindClan’s. Why else would her warriors resort to stealing prey?

“I don’t know the solution to your problem,” she began, haltingly. “I wish I could help, though. WindClan has precious little prey as it is, but we could share it with you.”

“No.” Stripestar frowned. In the darkness, his amber eyes were suddenly gleaming with a hint of their usual fire. “What we need is more territory,” he mused. “More prey. For both Clans.”

Galestar frowned. “Are you saying we could work together? But where? What territory?”

“Sunningrocks,” Stripestar replied at once. “RiverClan has held it for too long, and the prey has always run well there. What do you think? Could we take it?”

Galestar considered. Stripestar was staring eagerly at her now, and it fired her heart to see him so hopeful again, even if it was just a brief distraction from his grief.

Still, she had to do what was best for her Clan.

“I see what’s in it for ThunderClan,” she replied carefully. “The prey there could feed your kits. But Sunningrocks is a long way from the moor. Besides, ThunderClan and RiverClan have been squabbling over that territory for generations. If WindClan gets involved, ShadowClan won’t like it, and RiverClan will be furious. So what do we get, in return for our help?”

“Hunting rights.” Stripestar shrugged. “Your warriors have already been hunting on our territory. If ThunderClan had Sunningrocks, we could allow that to continue.”

Galestar fell silent, thinking it over. Slowly, she began to feel her pelt prickling with excitement. ThunderClan would survive… WindClan would have no need to share prey, just to assuage their leader’s guilt… It could really work.

“Sunningrocks ,” she murmured. “I like it. But RiverClan won’t give it up without a fight. And I can’t drag WindClan into a battle that will never end.”

“That won’t happen,” Stripestar promised. “Not if we work together. Think of it—RiverClan won’t stand a chance! They’ll have to give up Sunningrocks, which they don’t need anyway. ThunderClan and WindClan will have enough prey at last. And best of all, we’ll win such a great victory that RiverClan will never dare challenge us for the territory again. The squabbles over Sunningrocks will be done. Forever!”

Galestar could feel her own excitement mounting along with Stripestar’s. It reminded her of the night they had first met—how she had admired that strong young tabby, with his sparkling eyes and his big dreams of a world beyond the forest. “We’ll wait until you’re ready,” she suggested, thinking of Fogdrift. “A half-moon, or as long as you need to—”

“No,” Stripestar interrupted, to her surprise. “No waiting. ThunderClan can’t afford that luxury.”

“But you’re still grieving.”

Stripestar shrugged as though it hardly mattered what he felt. “My Clan needs to eat now. Not in a half-moon. We must attack tomorrow, or the day after that. Any longer and my warriors will be too weak to fight.”

Galestar looked at him, amazed. He was older now than when they’d met, and wiser, no doubt. But he still had the same sparkle in his eyes, even through all the pain he must be feeling. He’s still thinking of his Clan, still planning a future, even after one of the worst losses imaginable. Stripestar wasn’t beaten. Galestar had the feeling he never would be.

Perhaps that was what made him such a strong leader.

“ThunderClan is lucky to have you,” she purred, drawing herself up and meeting his amber gaze with a determined nod. “Very well, then. The day after tomorrow. WindClan will be ready . . . and we will fight by ThunderClan’s side.”

When Galestar ducked her head out of the den, she found the two ThunderClan warriors still waiting for her. The mistrust in their eyes quickly turned to bafflement as they saw Stripestar following.

“Escort Galestar back to WindClan,” he ordered, briskly. “See that she returns safely. Frecklepelt!” One of the guards, a dappled white she-cat, came scampering over. “There’s a rabbit in my den. Take it to the fresh-kill pile and make sure the elders and queens get their share. And fetch Tinyclaw! I need to speak with her.”

“What in StarClan’s name did you say to him?” muttered the black tom, leading Galestar out of the camp.

“It’s not me,” Galestar replied in wonder. “It’s him.”

Galestar cast one last glance over her shoulder, but she could no longer see Stripestar among the pelts of the ThunderClan cats he had roused into action.

She felt an oddly familiar twinge of disappointment. She had lost him, just as she had on that first night many moons ago when they were swept away from each other, when neither of them had even imagined being the leader of a Clan and they were nothing but starry-eyed apprentices trying to find their way.