“Shreeeee!”

A young gray she-cat sat up her nest, ears swiveling in the direction the sound had come from. A shiver of excitement seemed to run through her pelt as she realized what it must have been. A shrieking-owl! And I’ve never seen one before!

To be honest, she had never seen any kind of owl before, much less heard one. Normally, the young cat was such a sound sleeper that it took something spectacularly loud to wake her in the middle of the night. But tonight, she had trouble falling asleep and had only just drifted into a light doze when the owl called.

This opportunity was too perfect to miss: She was actually awake at night for once, and an owl was out and about. The only caveat was that the air temperature outside her den was bitterly cold; the recent frost had come unexpectedly, as leaf-bare should have been close to ending. The gray she-cat sighed, trying to decide whether seeing an owl was worth getting her nose and paws cold.

“Shreeeee!”

The second raspy scream made up her mind. There was no telling when there’d be an owl this close again, and besides, her pelt was pretty long and thick. She wouldn’t get too cold before she saw the owl, and then she’d come right back to camp.

The young she-cat stood up, and hesitated again. What if it was bigger than the elders had told her shrieking-owls normally were? The tip of her tail curled over as she pondered this new thought. Then she shook her head decisively. I’m nine moons old. I’m more than a match for a hungry bird, and besides I’m almost full-grown, so I’m probably too big for a shrieking-owl to catch.

The next problem was how to get out of the apprentices’ den. Unlike the gray she-cat, her brother Thrushpaw was a very light sleeper and would wake at the slightest disturbance. Well, she would just have to tread lightly. At least they had one less cat than normal in the den, which made exiting a bit easier; Lightningpaw had recently been made a warrior, with the new name Lightningpath.

Slowly, carefully, the fluffy gray cat stepped over and around the paws and tails of her sleeping denmates. She was on the verge of poking her head outside when a voice hissed her name.

“Psst! Pigeonpaw!” Thrushpaw had woken up, of course. “What are you doing?” The gray-brown tom raised his head and blinked sleepily.

Pigeonpaw stifled a groan. She had been so close! “Just going to the dirtplace,” she lied quickly. “Go back to sleep.”

 “’Kay.” Her brother laid his back down on his paws. Moments later, his deepened breathing told Pigeonpaw that he was asleep once more.

She stuck her head out of the den, noted that nobody was out except for Heronclaw, who was on guard duty. Slipping the rest of the way out of her den, she paused and once more scanned the camp, this time trying to decide how to leave. If she went out through the main entrance claiming the dirtplace excuse, Heronclaw would suspect something was up.

    
A sudden idea came to Pigeonpaw when her gaze fell on the warriors’ den. If she remembered correctly, there was a gap in the blackberry bramble that formed part of the den. The gray she-cat was fairly slender, and hadn’t yet reached adult size, so she might just be able to squeeze through and leave the camp that way.

    
Slowly, silently, Pigeonpaw made her across the camp, hoping with all her heart that Heronclaw wouldn’t turn and look at the camp. Luck was with her, however, and Pigeonpaw reached the warriors’ den without being noticed.

    
She inspected the bramble, and sure enough the gap was there. The apprentice gulped as she realized it was narrower than she first had thought, and that a squeeze through there would certainly leave a lot of thorns in her thick coat.

    
“Shreeeee!”

    
The owl’s call sounded especially close. The young she-cat’s heart pounded as she imagined it gliding through the night air. I’m coming, owl! Pigeonpaw thought happily as she approached the small opening in the bramble. She gritted her teeth, lowered her head, and made the first step into the gap.

    
As she wriggled through, Pigeonpaw winced when thorns tugged at her pelt. Thankfully, it didn’t take long, and before she knew it, she was out of the camp—free to find her owl!

   
She set off in the direction the last shriek had come from. As she drew near to an oak tree, she gasped in awe as a pair of great pale wings—tawny above, whitish below—spread and flapped as the shrieking-owl lifted from a branch into the air. The owl rapidly gained height as it silently pumped its wings, and then it glided and swept lower.

    
Pigeonpaw followed at distance, amazed at how quietly the bird flew. It’s like a cat stalking through the air! She also noticed that it tilted its head from side to side, likely scanning the area for prey.

    
Though Pigeonpaw had no idea whether it was looking, smelling, or listening, but however the owl searched, it must have been successful, as it suddenly went into a dive. Heartbeats later, she heard a faint squeak, and the owl rose into the air again—this time with some tiny creature clutched in its talons. Now that it had caught something, it began flying purposefully towards the farm, and soon vanished from the apprentice’s sight.

    
The gray she-cat sighed, immensely grateful that she had braved the cold after all. If she hadn’t, look what she would have missed! Not only did she see the owl, she actually witnessed the night hunter at its finest.

    
She couldn’t think about the shrieking-owl as long as she would have liked to, however, for Pigeonpaw suddenly became aware of heavy pawsteps pounding in her direction. Her ears swiveled alertly towards the sound, and she dropped into the fight-or-flight crouch, ready to react to whatever was coming.

    
The pawsteps ended abruptly as the whatever-it-was skidded to a halt in the tall grass, causing the long stems to shiver wildly. It was then that the reek of coyote became very noticeable; Pigeonpaw’s tail bushed out like a bottlebrush as she recognized the scent.

    
“Nnn-nnn?” A soft whine came from the coyote as he slowly crept closer. Now that Pigeonpaw could see him better, she could see he was holding himself in an unusual fashion: He was crouching, with the head lowered and ears flattened, and his tail was low as well, although it wagged a bit.

    
She was quite puzzled until she noticed the fuzziness of his pelt; the coyote was just a pup. In all likelihood, he had never seen a cat before, so maybe—maybe—could he possibly be scared of Pigeonpaw? To test the theory, she adjusted her own position so that it was similar to the pup’s.

    
It worked! The young coyote wiggled closer until his wet black nose was less than a whiskerlength from her own nose. He sniffed loudly, blasting Pigeonpaw’s muzzle with warm, but stinky, coyote breath.

    
Suddenly, he yipped and nipped at her ear, then leapt to his paws and bounced around Pigeonpaw, pretending to nip first her tail, then her neck, next her side. When he tried to lick her face, the gray she-cat gave him a sharp cuff around the ears. The coyote looked puzzled for a moment, then sank onto his forelegs with his rear in the air, wagging a fuzzy tail; he yipped again and wagged his tail all the harder.

    
The realization came to Pigeonpaw that this pup was trying to play with her. He wasn’t going to harm her at all, so there was nothing wrong with her playing as well. So the young cat sprang to paws and swatted the coyote’s snout, carefully keeping her claws sheathed. The coyote responded with a delighted yap, and soon the two were chasing each through the tall grass with joyful abandon.

    
Moonhigh came and went, and when Pigeonpaw flopped on the ground, panting to catch her breath, she realized with a jolt just how long she’d been out. “Goodness!” she exclaimed aloud to her new friend. “I’d better get back to camp or Dapplecloud will bite off my head.” The apprentice purred as she tried to imagine her easygoing mentor giving her a strict talking-to. Her amusement faded as she realized that there probably would be a serious punishment if she were caught by one of her Clanmates outside of camp. 

    
It was generally assumed that nighttime belonged to the coyotes, and therefore it was too dangerous for any cat to be outside alone at night. It followed, then, that apprentices and kits were strictly forbidden to leave the camp at night, whether alone or in a group.

    
“I’ll come back tomorrow night,” Pigeonpaw promised, though she was unsure if the coyote would actually understand her words. She gave him an affectionate nudge on his shoulder with her head, and in response the pup licked her face. Then Pigeonpaw bolted for the camp as fast as her paws could carry her.

~

And so it went: Almost every night, Pigeonpaw sneaked out and played with the coyote. Though they couldn’t speak in words to each other, they grew familiar with each other’s body language and were able to avoid accidentally giving offense.

    
Consequently, as she didn’t sleep most nights, Pigeonpaw grew exhausted, irritable, and unfocused during the daytime, and napped whenever she could. She barely focused on her training, and performed so poorly that even the placid Dapplecloud grew frustrated.

    
While Pigeonpaw’s littermates, Rainpaw and Thrushpaw, progressed in leaps and bounds in the two moons that had passed since Pigeonpaw first met the coyote, the gray she-cat muddled along, barely achieving mediocre skills. And so it came to be that even though it was quite obvious that Thrushpaw and Rainpaw would be made warriors soon, nobody expected the lazy Pigeonpaw to pass her assessment.

    
One fine night in the middle of newleaf, Pigeonpaw snuck out as usual to meet with her coyote friend. But the coyote wasn’t there. Her pawsteps faltered as she recognized the scent of one of BrickClan’s warriors. Slowly, she began to back away, but the voice of the other cat halted her.

    
“Pigeonpaw. I know you’re hiding back there.” It was Spottedtail, the brother of Pigeonpaw’s father. “It would be better if you just came out instead of pretending you aren’t here.”

    
The apprentice’s heart felt as though it had dropped to her paws. Head hanging, she trudged the final few steps till she stood beside her uncle. Pigeonpaw couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze; instead, she stared at a small pebble on the ground.

    
“I think you know why I’m here,” Spottedtail meowed softly. “You can’t keep leaving camp in the middle of the night.” His tone was disapproving, but gentle.

    
A whine bubbled up in Pigeonpaw before she could stop. “But why? I’m not doing anything bad out here!” She clamped her jaws shut, ashamed of how petulant she had sounded.

    
The ginger tom sighed. “Pigeonpaw, there are plenty of reasons. First off, you are disobeying a rule that is in place for your safety. Second, you’re wreaking havoc on your training—do you think the rest of the Clan hasn’t noticed how terrible you are? Finally, it’s not like you’re just coming out here to enjoy the night. You’re playing with the young of one of our Clan’s bitterest enemies—we made an agreement with the coyotes long ago to let them have the night, while we hunt by day. When we cross the boundaries of that agreement, we put every cat in danger. You’re very lucky no adult coyotes have discovered you out here all alone.”

    
“But the pup’s my friend!” Pigeonpaw protested. “He’s getting bigger now, and he wouldn’t let his kin hurt me, I’m sure of it.” But her resolve was weakening. Now that she thought about it, it was really a piece of luck that she hadn’t run into any other coyotes.

    
Spottedtail’s soft amber eyes met Pigeonpaw’s uncertain green ones. “I know you think of him as a friend, but one day the coyote will grow up and be just as vicious as his kin. You can’t continue this, for your own sake and the sake of the Clan.”

    
Pigeonpaw heaved a huge sigh. She knew Spottedtail was right, although she didn’t want to believe him. “If I stop… You won’t tell anyone that this happened, right? Please?”

    
“I promise,” he purred. “As long as you come back now, and start training harder. Okay?”

    
Pigeonpaw nodded.

    
As the two cats set off for the camp, she wondered vaguely if she would ever regret the friendship with the coyote. I don’t think so… It taught me that cats aren’t the only kind creatures… The coyote won’t forget our friendship, I’m certain. He is just as intelligent as a cat, so this is the only place where I know Spottedtail is wrong.

   
Goodbye, friend…

Three moons later...

“Pigeonfur, wake up! Have you forgotten the patrol?”

“Mmm… Wha’?” Pigeonfur yawned sleepily. She had been napping after a delicious meal consisting of a shrew and a sparrow, and was wondering what was so urgent that she, of all cats, was needed.

An exasperated sigh came from the other cat. “The sunhigh border patrol. Have you forgotten that Snowheart assigned you to it?”

Snowheart? Patrol? Pigeonfur thought bemusedly. All she did was fall asleep after eating; surely it couldn’t be sunhigh already? The confusion drifted away as the early afternoon sun warmed her dark fur and reminded her of how comfortable she was. The gray she-cat rolled onto her side and extended her legs out all the way, sighing with contentment as she felt her spine stretching.

A paw jabbed sharply into her now-exposed soft belly fur, startling Pigeonfur into a more alert state. Her eyes flew open to see Oakfang standing in front her, one paw raised to poke her again if need be. She let out a hiss of annoyance.

“Hey! What was that for?”

Oakfang rolled his eyes. “Hemlockfur is waiting for you to join the sunhigh border patrol. And let me tell you, he does not look happy that you’ve made us late.”

“Hemlockfur?!” Pigeonfur hurriedly sat up, thinking of the senior warrior’s sharp tongue. He was very sarcastic and didn’t tolerate lazy paws. Of all the times to oversleep! the she-cat thought in dismay as she anticipated a barbed comment from Hemlockfur.

She wasn’t disappointed. As Oakfang and Pigeonfur joined the waiting patrol at the camp’s entrance, Hemlockfur’s eyes glittered with impatience. “So you finally decided to wake up,” he meowed dryly. “What happened, eat a few poppy seeds with your morning meal?”

Pigeonfur ignored the question and followed silently as the patrol left the camp. Oakfang fell in beside Hemlockfur, which left Pigeonfur with Raccoonpaw. She found herself wishing that Oakfang had waited for her, because she really didn’t like the apprentice’s constant snarky comments.

“Poppy seeds, eh?” Raccoonpaw purred, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “Hemlockfur’s really in good form today, what do you think, Pigeonfur? He always knows when to joke.”

Pigeonfur made a noncommittal noise and tried not to make eye contact with Raccoonpaw, instead watching a swallowtail butterfly flitting from flower to flower.

The apprentice tried again. “Were you up late last night hunting? Defending the Clan? You must have been working hard to be that tired!” Her tail-tip flicked as her orange eyes sparkled with mischief.

When the other she-cat refused to dignify this with an answer, Raccoonpaw gave up. The cats padded towards the park in silence, broken only by Oakfang remarking that it looked like there were storm clouds in the distance.

A few minutes later, Raccoonpaw stopped dead in her tracks, muzzle tilted upwards. The rumple-furred she-cat’s jaw hung slightly open as her nose twitched.

The other cats halted and watched the apprentice for a moment before Hemlockfur asked, “What is it, Raccoonpaw?”

The young she-cat turned to face the senior warrior. Her eyes were wide with worry. “I smell blood—cat blood. And a lot of it, too. Some cat’s been hurt badly, maybe even killed.”

“Do you think you can find the place?” Oakfang queried his apprentice.

“Yes, I think so,” came the confident reply. “It’s coming from the direction of the big Thunderpath.”

Without hesitating, Hemlockfur ordered her to lead the way. “If we can do anything to help, we should,” he added gruffly.

So the cats set off after Raccoonpaw, and before long, they smelled the blood as well. Pigeonfur recognized the scent as belonging to a BrickClan cat—and she thought she knew which one. StarClan, please, no…

Another minute, and they came to halt in a place in between the foodplace and one of the park-Thunderpaths. The grass looked as though it had been trampled all over, and a strong reek of blood and coyote hung in the air.

“Great StarClan!” Hemlockfur exclaimed. “Snowheart!”

And indeed, that was the cat to whom the blood belonged. His was the only cat-scent here, and tufts of bloody white fur clung to the ends of the grass stems. It was very plain what had happened, yet no cat wanted to be the first to say it.

I can’t believe it! Snowheart… Gone. It just isn’t fair! Pigeonfur wanted to fling her head back and wail, perhaps not so much in mourning for the dead cat, but for the disaster it surely spelled.

Oakfang’s amber eyes were solemn as he murmured, “What will happen to our Clan?”

It was a very important question. Tealstar, BrickClan’s leader, was so ancient that her mind had become unstable. She was very unpredictable, so nobody knew what she would do when she found out her deputy was dead. Snowheart had been a pillar of strength for BrickClan, and every cat said that he would become the finest leader the Clan had known in a long time—when Tealstar eventually died. He had been appointed as deputy when Tealstar’s mind was still clear, and every cat had expected him to outlive the ancient leader. It would be no understatement to say that BrickClan was in a lot of trouble with Snowheart gone.

“I don’t know, Oakfang. I really don’t know.” Hemlockfur’s voice was hushed as he responded to the tabby warrior. Turning to Raccoonpaw, he added, “That was a good bit of tracking you did just now. Can you… Can you go over the area and see… See if there’s a chance…”

The apprentice nodded silently and padded into the area of flattened grass, nose twitching. A few moments later, she returned to the group with her tail and whiskers drooping. “There’s no way… I guess this means he’s…”

“Dead,” Hemlockfur finished quietly. One by one, he met the gaze of each of the other cats. “We must return and tell Tealstar.”

With a heavy heart, Pigeonfur trailed along at the rear of the patrol. It’s just so unfair, she thought miserably. In a silent echo of Oakfang, the gray she-cat wondered, What will happen to BrickClan now?

~ 

It was the morning after the terrible news had been delivered to the Clan. An eerie quiet hung over the camp as cats waited, wondering when—if—Tealstar would appoint a new deputy. Some cats shared tongues, others tried to eat, but few spoke; if they did, it was in hushed tones.

Pigeonfur was sharing tongues with her sister Rainpelt when Tealstar emerged from her den at the base of the meeting-tree. The sisters stopped what they were doing to watch and see what their leader would do.

Slowly, ungracefully, Tealstar clambered up to the first fork in the tree. She looked so unsteady that Pigeonfur wondered whether the brown tabby would fall off. But the leader didn’t, and she tipped her back and called out in her high-pitched quaver, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather ‘round the tree!”

There wasn’t really any point to the summons, as almost all of the BrickClan cats were out in the camp, but they all moved closer, eyes fixed on the ancient she-cat perched in the tree.

“The time has come to choose a new deputy,” Tealstar began. “I say these words before StarClan, so that they may hear and approve my choice. The new deputy of BrickClan is…” She paused for a moment, and her wild eyes swept across the gathered cats.

Great StarClan! Has she not actually chosen a deputy yet? Pigeonfur wondered for a brief frightened moment. Then she suddenly realized that Tealstar was staring right at her, and the leader’s gaze seemed to gleam in recognition.

“…Pigeonfur. Pigeonfur is the deputy of BrickClan. This meeting is over.” Tealstar finished abruptly and half scrambled, half fell down the tree, then vanished into her den.

Silence reigned.

Pigeonfur’s heartbeat sped up, pumping so hard she felt as though it would burst with the impact of Tealstar’s announcement. Oh my goodness. I did not just hear Tealstar say what I think she just said. There must be some mistake, surely? Oh StarClan, please send me a sign to let me know this was just a mix-up with Tealstar’s odd mind! Please!

But try as she might, Pigeonfur couldn’t deny the light of recognition that she had seen in Tealstar’s eyes, just before the leader had made her decision. She really did choose me…

Panic soon welled up inside of the young warrior, replacing the shock. Oh, great StarClan, they’re all staring at me! Am I supposed to say something? Oh, oh, oh what should I do? What can I do?

“Uh, Pigeonfur? No one’s gone hunting yet today. Should I lead a group out to hunt while you organize the rest of the patrols?” Oakfang meowed, breaking the tense, awkward silence that had threatened to completely unnerve Pigeonfur.

Gratefully, she accepted his offer. “Yes—yes, that would be helpful, Oakfang. Thank you…” Her voice trailed away; Pigeonfur was well aware that her meow had been abnormally high-pitched with worry.

Oakfang summoned Kinkflower and Heronclaw with a flick of his tail, and as they headed for the camp entrance, Raccoonpaw leapt to her paws and tagged along.

Once they had left, Pigeonfur realized what an enormous task she had before her. Somehow, she had to figure out which cats should go on what patrols, and who could do the dawn patrol tomorrow morning. And it wasn’t just the organization that worried her; even more daunting than planning patrols was the realization that she would have to give orders to the senior warriors—and Pigeonfur was just about the youngest warrior in the Clan!

“Um…” Her voice sounded tiny, like a kit’s. All eyes were on Pigeonfur, which only served to increase the knot of tension in her belly. “Uh… Fath—I mean Stormwhisker—do you think that maybe you might be able to, um, lead a border patrol? Please?” She met the green gaze of her father, and added as an afterthought, “But only if you want to.”

“Of course,” he replied with a respectful dip of his head. “Whom shall I take with me?”

It felt very strange to see her father make such a gesture towards her, his inexperienced young daughter. “Erm, whoever you want to take is fine.” How could she possibly give orders to anyone besides the apprentices?

He nodded. “All right, then. How about Mistfang, Owlpelt, and Volepelt?” The long-furred gray warrior glanced at each cat as he named them.

The three warriors stood up, murmuring agreement. When they were almost to the entrance, Stormwhisker turned and asked Pigeonfur, “Where would you like us to patrol?”

Where? Patrol? “If there’s… Uh… I guess if you think of a spot that needs it?” Pigeonfur’s heart thumped wildly, wanting to avoid the stress of making a split-second decision.

“We’ll patrol the main section of the BridgeClan border, then, if that sounds fine,” Stormwhisker suggested. “We should make sure our border with the other Clan stays strong despite our troubles.”

Pigeonfur nodded her thanks, and the second patrol of the day vanished through the bramble tunnel.

All of the rest of the organization went much the same way, so there’s no need to detail every patrol that Pigeonfur “assigned.” She couldn’t bring herself to order any cat around, and so ended up politely asking for volunteers for each patrol.

After the ordeal was over, Pigeonfur raced into the warriors’ den and flung herself into her nest, burying her muzzle between her paws. Of all the cats in the Clan, why am I the only one Tealstar recognized? Why do I have to be the deputy? I never asked for this! I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this… StarClan, help me!

Two days had passed since Pigeonfur became deputy, and she wasn’t any more comfortable with her position than she had been the day she was appointed. She felt as though her nerves were constantly being stretched near to the breaking point, as the combined stress of sorting out patrols and being the only real authority in the Clan was almost more than the young she-cat could handle.

Organizing patrols would have been bad enough, but due to Tealstar’s unpredictable mind, all of the Clan came to Pigeonfur when they needed help resolving an issue. Even though she was timid and unsure of herself, she was sane, so the new deputy had her paws full as a mediator and problem-solver.

Thankfully, Pigeonfur wasn’t entirely on her own; many of the senior warriors, and even some of the younger warriors, were more than happy to help her. Pigeonfur found herself relying on her mother and father especially, but even they weren’t always as helpful as she would have liked. Though they often had good advice, Stormwhisker in particular seemed to enjoy answering her questions with a grave “Trust your own instincts,” and Pigeonfur to wonder what to do next. 

As far as the younger warriors go, Oakfang was also very eager to assist Pigeonfur in any way possible; he volunteered to lead so many patrols that she had to actually give out a real order and told him that other cats should also have a chance to lead. Then there was Rainpelt, Pigeonfur’s sister, who always had a sympathetic ear for the young deputy and was good at lifting Pigeonfur’s spirits.

This morning, the gray she-cat was sleeping late, worn out after organizing the next set of patrols and going on the evening border patrol the night before. She was curled in a tight ball with one paw wrapped around her muzzle. The peace of the warriors’ den was suddenly shattered by a voice loudly calling her name.

“Pigeonfur! Pigeonfur, wake up, Tealstar’s asking for you!” Thrushstep’s amber eyes were wide and worried in his gray-brown face. “She’s being really insistent, even though I told her you were asleep! You’d better come.”

Pigeonfur’s jaws gaped in a wide yawn as she slowly stretched out. Blinking the sleepiness from her eyes, she asked, “What does she want?”

Thrushstep shook his head. “I don’t know. But she seems anxious about something…” Now that his sister was indeed awake, the young tom withdrew from the warriors’ den and padded away.

The long-furred she-cat quickly rose to her paws and slipped out of the den after her littermate. Upon Pigeonfur’s appearance, Tealstar rushed to her deputy’s side, her yellow eyes more wild and troubled than Pigeonfur had ever seen them.

“I must see the place where my deputy died. I must find Snowheart…” Tealstar’s unkempt brown tabby pelt was bristling all along the spine, and her ears were flattened back. “Don’t you see, he wasn’t buried, his spirit’s lost, I must find him…”

Pigeonfur reached out gently with her tail-tip and touched her leader’s shoulders, a wave of pity for the grieving old cat sweeping over her. “Tealstar, are you sure you want to leave camp? It’s dangerous, and, well…” She couldn’t bring herself to voice her worries. And, well, you’re very weak. I don’t know if you’re strong enough to handle a walk that far.

Tealstar’s gaze became hard, and she snapped in reply, “What, you think I’m too old to go outside? My deputy is dead, and I must see the place where he died. I can hear him calling me!” She paused for a moment to take a huge, shuddering breath. “I know he’s there. He’s waiting for me.”

The younger she-cat hesitated, wondering if she ought to ask Nightleaf to check Tealstar over quickly to make sure the elderly tabby had the strength to go to the place where Snowheart died. As Pigeonfur sadly met Tealstar’s pleading eyes, she became aware of another cat standing behind her.

“We should take her there,” a voice murmured softly into Pigeonfur’s ear. It was Hemlockfur. “She may not have much time left in BrickClan. She is old enough, has served us well enough, that we should honor a wish made so late in her life. I will go with you,” he added quietly.

Pigeonfur found herself nodding slowly. Hemlockfur is right, she realized. How can I truly refuse this to Tealstar? She spoke then, addressing Tealstar. “We will go, Tealstar. You will see the place where Snowheart lost his life so bravely.”

A sudden peace seemed to come upon the ancient she-cat. “Thank you, Pigeonfur,” Tealstar whispered. “Lead me there now.”

With a silent nod, Pigeonfur let Hemlockfur take the lead out of camp while she walked beside Tealstar, ready if the ancient she-cat needed help along the way.

The sun beamed down out of a cloudless blue sky, quickly heating up Pigeonfur’s gray pelt as the three cats padded through the tall grass. She found herself becoming rather uncomfortable, as her long, thick coat trapped the heat. It was while Pigeonfur was thinking about how nice a drink of water would be when Tealstar tripped on a rock and fell.

The leader grunted in pain as she hit the ground; Pigeonfur gasped and immediately crouched down to help Tealstar.

“Are you okay?” Pigeonfur inquired breathlessly, hoping that the old she-cat hadn’t hurt herself with the fall.

Tealstar nodded shakily. “Yes… Just a bit…off balance, that’s all.”

Hemlockfur had turned back when he heard Tealstar fall, and now asked with concern, “Are you sure, Tealstar? We can come back later and—”

“Of course I’m sure!” Tealstar interrupted, eyes flashing with irritation. “I can’t stop now! I can’t go back to camp until I’ve seen Snowheart.” The irritation faded and was replaced by sorrow. “I know he’s out there, and I can’t just abandon him after all the seasons he gave to the Clan.”

With Pigeonfur’s assistance, Tealstar was soon back on her paws and walking once again, but this time, she leaned on her deputy as they walked.

Tealstar seems unusually clear-minded today, Pigeonfur remarked to herself. She felt vaguely concerned that the leader wasn’t behaving like normal, but then told herself it was nothing to worry about. Surely it must be a good thing that she’s remembering Snowheart? But the concern deepened when the gray she-cat remembered that Tealstar had thought that she could actually hear Snowheart. If that’s true, what if it means she’s getting closer to StarClan?

“We’re here.”

Pigeonfur was startled out of her musings by Hemlockfur’s meow. She gazed at the grass that was still bent trampled from Snowheart’s fight with the coyotes. The young she-cat still thought it was odd that the coyotes had been out during the daytime, given the agreement between the Clans and the coyotes, but who knew what went on in their minds?

I thought I did, once, but Spottedtail was right: They are vicious and unpredictable.

Tealstar tilted her back and stared at the blue sky, her gaze perfectly lucid. Her raspy voice throbbing with emotion, she meowed a farewell to the deputy who had served her for so long. “May StarClan light your path, Snowheart. May you find good hunting, running water, and shelter when you sleep.  Farewell.”

Feeling it was the right thing to do, Pigeonfur bowed her head for a moment after Tealstar finished the traditional words of farewell. Snowheart was a good cat, she thought. Not just Tealstar, not just BrickClan, but every cat who knew him will miss him.

The tabby leader softly stepped over to where a tuft of white fur was tangled with grass stems. She touched her nose to it, then slowly sank to the ground and buried her muzzle between her paws.

Neither Hemlockfur nor Pigeonfur spoke as they watched their leader grieve. The silence seemed to spin on for an eternity, and when the sun had moved a little more, Pigeonfur suddenly noticed that something was very wrong.

Tealstar was too quiet. Her skinny flanks were too still. Her scent was terribly, terribly different.

Pigeonfur uttered a soft, wordless murmur of horror as she realized what had happened: Tealstar, the leader of BrickClan for countless seasons, had passed away. A long sigh escaped her as she wondered vaguely what the Clan would do without a leader. Then Hemlockfur touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail.

His voice was quiet as he reminded her bluntly, “You’re leader now, Pigeonfur. We have to bring Tealstar back to camp so the Clan knows. And you need to go receive your nine lives.” The always-practical senior warrior’s dark golden gaze was solemn as he looked at Pigeonfur.

Nine lives… What? The young she-cat could only stare numbly at Hemlockfur as his words sank in. The world suddenly seemed to blur in front of her eyes as the enormity of her position came crashing down on her. Pigeonfur squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block out the world and forget about her duties.

Somewhere nearby, a sparrow’s melodious song rang out loudly. A young crow sounded a high-pitched caw, begging for food from its parents. A bumblebee hummed right past Pigeonfur’s ear in search of flowers. The familiar sounds of her territory soothed the gray she-cat, reminding her that, even though her own life had just undergone two huge changes in three days, the lives of other creatures continued along in their own normal way.

Pigeonfur inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents of the warm greenleaf day. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced at Hemlockfur, then nodded. “We must go back now,” she whispered.

As she helped lift Tealstar’s body onto Hemlockfur’s back, the fluffy she-cat felt the panic that had been her companion these past few days rising once more. But now she had the comforting thought of the birdsong in her mind; it didn’t lessen the panic, but it gave her strength to keep moving.

Hemlockfur and Pigeonfur were silent on the way back to camp, each having retreated into their own thoughts. Hemlockfur stared at the ground the entire time, and Pigeonfur wondered briefly what he was thinking about, but soon fell back into her own musings.

She could picture the scene when they returned to camp: Utter silence would be their greeting, soon to be broken by worried mutters. Pigeonfur knew full well what the Clan thought of her deputyship, that she was too young, too inexperienced, too cowardly, and of course she’d never had an apprentice. Perhaps even some cats would challenge her for the leadership, knowing that Tealstar hadn’t been in her right mind when she chose Pigeonfur.

And Pigeonfur wasn’t so sure that she would resist a challenge. It would be a massive relief to give up the responsibility to another cat, to never have to worry about making important Clan decision again. Just being a normal warrior would make her more than happy with her life.

~

Pigeonfur hadn’t been far off in her guess of what would happen upon their entrance into the camp. True to her prediction, silence and wide eyes met Hemlockfur and the young deputy. The first cat to break that silence, however, did not have a comment to make about Pigeonfur.

“Tealstar! No!” Mouseclaw’s voice became shrill with grief, and it was then that Pigeonfur recalled that Tealstar was the gray-brown warrior’s mother.

Mouseclaw and her brothers, Shrewtail and Volepelt, were the first cats to reach Hemlockfur’s side. They gently lifted their mother’s body from the gray tabby’s back and carefully laid the body in the center of BrickClan’s camp.

Pigeonfur’s own mother, Merlinfoot, padded softly over to her daughter. Putting her mouth close to her daughter’s ear, the mottled tabby she-cat murmured, “It is time for the vigil to begin. Do you remember the words of farewell?”

The gray she-cat occasionally found her mother’s brisk practicality annoying, but today, it was more helpful than she’d expected. Pigeonfur nodded; the memory of Tealstar speaking those words for Snowheart was still fresh in her mind.

Pigeonfur cleared her throat, hoping to catch the attention of the cats now clustering around Tealstar’s body to pay their respects. When nobody noticed, she tried again. “Um… Excuse me?” She hated how her voice sounded thin and high-pitched when she was under stress, but it couldn’t be helped.

A few cats turned to look at her, and soon the others fell quiet. They parted to let Pigeonfur come in close to Tealstar’s body. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, the deputy spoke in a voice that quivered with emotion.

“May StarClan light your path, Tealstar. May you find good hunting, running water, and shelter when you sleep. Farewell…” Other voices echoed the last word, then silence fell as the BrickClan cats settled down in a ragged circle around their leader’s body; they would sit vigil like this until sunset, when the elders would remove the body for burial.

It was after sunhigh when Pigeonfur realized with a jolt that she had some serious thinking to do before tomorrow morning. The warrior code dictated that a new deputy must be chosen within a sun-cycle of the last deputy or leader’s death. This meant that Pigeonfur could get her nine lives before she had to choose a deputy, but she wouldn’t have much time, as she would surely be exhausted after the nighttime ceremony.

The gray she-cat found that she really had hoped that someone would have challenged her for her position as leader, but since nobody had, the weighty task of selecting a deputy fell on her shoulders. This would be perhaps one of Pigeonfur’s most important decisions ever, as she might be choosing the next leader of BrickClan, and that realization sent a fresh wave of stress and panic through the young cat.

She had to get away from the crowd and think. But where? Ah, I guess… I guess Tealstar’s den must be mine now… At least it’ll be peaceful, and I’ll be alone with my thoughts… Having made up her mind, Pigeonfur murmured a faint apology as she slipped away, trying not to step on anyone’s tail.

Squeezing into the leader’s den, Pigeonfur found herself truly becoming aware of the size of her new responsibilities. She moaned softly and sank into Tealstar’s nest; the moss was still soft and fresh, as the apprentices had only just replaced it the night before. The fluffy gray she-cat was doing her best not to think about being leader when she perceived that another cat was standing just inside the den.

She blinked and sat up slowly, tasting the air and recognizing Spottedtail. I wonder why he’s here. To give me advice on choosing a deputy, I suppose. Pigeonfur sighed, knowing that sooner or later she would have to make up her mind.

“What is it, Spottedtail?” she meowed in a quiet, although slightly shaky, voice.

“I suppose you’ve been thinking about appointing a deputy,” the small ginger tom began. “Am I right?”

Pigeonfur nodded. So I was right. That is what he came here to discuss.

Spottedtail’s voice was unusually soft and silky as he continued. “Well, before you get your mind too firmly settled on one cat, let me give you something to think about. I’d like to suggest…myself as the next deputy of BrickClan.” 

His amber eyes gleamed in an unnervingly hungry manner, and Pigeonfur herself looking away. Her only response was a faint “Why?”

“I think we both know why, Pigeonfur. Or have you forgotten a little secret that we are both familiar with?” Spottedtail replied, his tone taking on a hint of menace.

Fur beginning to bristle, Pigeonfur gasped. He must mean the coyote! But he…he promised that it would be kept just between us! I don’t know why he’s bringing this up… To tell the truth, the young she-cat had an inkling of why Spottedtail mentioned the secret, but she didn’t want to believe her uncle capable of what he seemed to be doing.

“That’s right, Pigeonfur. You thought you could trust me with your secret, but you were wrong. I want you make me deputy, and if you don’t… Let’s just say the Clan will never look at you the same way again, after learning that you were friends with one of Clan’s worst enemies.” A triumphant light was glowing in the ginger warrior’s eyes as he finished.

Speechless at what was more or less an ultimatum, Pigeonfur could do nothing but stare helplessly at Spottedtail. Fear made her tail bush out like a bottlebrush as she contemplated a future in which BrickClan quite possibly held no part. On the other paw, she could just appoint Spottedtail as deputy…

Before she had a chance to gather herself together and attempt to protest his outrageous demand, the ginger tabby had turned to leave the den. He looked back over shoulder, tossing a last word at Pigeonfur as he left.

“Do think about, Pigeonfur. I’m confident you’ll make the logical choice—there’s only one right choice…”

Pigeonstar didn’t really know what to do with herself. This was the third sunrise since Lightningpath’s revelation, and things had not been going especially well. She was forever playing peacemaker in petty grievances, and if she tried to leave camp to join a patrol, that usually ended in a fiasco. She shuddered as she remembered yesterday’s hunting disaster.

First, she had accidentally spooked a flock of starlings, and the whole lot had flown away before any of the patrol had a chance to catch one. Then Pigeonstar completely missed a rabbit that Mouseclaw had chased in her direction. After that, Fogstorm, who was leading the patrol, suggested rather pointedly that each cat should hunt alone.

So much for earning the Clan’s respect…

“Hey, Pigeonstar!” Well, there was one cat whose respect she didn’t have work for: Oakfang. He was always friendly and helpful to her. Now he was trotting over in her direction, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Hi, Oakfang,” the leader meowed in greeting. “What’s up?”

The tabby warrior flicked his raggedy tail toward the camp entrance, where three cats were waiting. “Emberspots and I are taking our apprentices out for battle training. Would you like to come?”

How wonderful, another opportunity to make herself look mouse-brained. Pigeonstar hesitated to accept. “Well… I don’t know if I really ought to go…”

Emberspots had padded over to join them. Her eyes were gentle as she meowed encouragingly, “Even leaders have to keep their skills sharp, you know. Of course you can come.”

“All right, then.” Pigeonstar couldn’t really bring herself to refuse the older she-cat’s kind words. Mentally she braced herself, recalling that she would be displaying her clumsiness in front of the ever-snarky Raccoonpaw.

True to form, as they left camp and headed down the trail that led to the training grounds, Oakfang’s apprentice asked innocently, “Do you know how to fight, Pigeonstar? It’s just that I’ve never seen you in a battle or practice bout before—” The gray-furred apprentice was silenced abruptly as Oakfang shot her a glare.

Pigeonstar flashed a grateful glance at Oakfang before she dropped back to walk alongside Silverpaw. The skinny little tom’s head and tail were drooping miserably.

She blinked sympathetically at him and murmured softly, “I take it you aren’t excited about battle practice either?”

He turned to look at her with dull eyes. “I want to fight…but I…I just don’t feel so great.” Silverpaw certainly acted like he wasn’t feeling well. His pawsteps were slow and hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if his paws would support him. And the expression on his face…

“Emberspots!” Pigeonstar called, deciding in heartbeat that Silverpaw wasn’t fit for training. “I think Silverpaw is sick.”

The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly and whipped her head around. “What? How? He was fine before we left…” She pushed past Oakfang and Raccoonpaw and leaned down to touch her apprentice’s ear. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I feel awful,” Silverpaw moaned. “My belly…”

Raccoonpaw didn’t say anything, but her coppery eyes were full of concern for her littermate.

“He can’t train,” Emberspots meowed firmly. “We’ll have to call this off.”

“No—don’t!” Pigeonstar responded quickly, surprising herself a little with the outburst. “I can take Silverpaw back to camp, and you can still train with Raccoonpaw.” She waited breathlessly to see whether the warriors would protest, or just let her go.

Pigeonstar had almost resigned herself to being overridden by the older cats when Emberspots dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Yes, Pigeonstar.”

Wow, what?

The tricolored she-cat purred in amusement at the shocked look on Pigeonstar’s face. Gently, she said, “You are the Clan leader, you know. And besides, that was a good idea.” She paused a heartbeat, and added, “Do take good care of him.” Her gaze rested affectionately on her apprentice.

Ducking her head in embarrassment, the young she-cat gave Silverpaw a nudge and turned back down the trail. As they walked, she let the apprentice lean on her, as his legs began to look a little weak.

“I was really looking forward to this…” Silverpaw moaned softly as he trudged along at Pigeonstar’s side. “We were going to learn how to fight coyotes today…”

Inwardly, the gray she-cat shuddered at the thought of meeting an angry coyote, but that feeling was replaced by a wave a pity for the apprentice. Poor thing, to have to miss out on something he was excited for. There was no telling how long he’d be sick for, so he might even be set back quite a bit on training.

They hurried as best as they could, but Silverpaw just wasn’t up to moving very fast. His breathing had grown fast and shallow, and his green eyes looked more miserable than ever before.

Pigeonstar felt very grateful that they hadn’t been far from camp when they’d turned back, and was extremely relieved to see the bramble wall stretching between the oak trees that marked their camp.

Raggedfur was sitting on guard duty just outside the entrance to BrickClan’s camp. The slender she-cat sprang to her paws and bounded forward to meet them, her eyes wide with worry. “Pigeonstar! What’s wrong?”

“Silverpaw’s ill,” the young leader explained as Raggedfur moved to help support the thin gray tom. “I brought him back so Emberspots and Oakfang could continue training with Raccoonpaw. We need to get him to the medicine den.”

Between the two of them, they were able to rapidly move the young tom across camp to the medicine den, whereupon Raggedfur left to return her guard post. Daffodilheart and Nightleaf helped Silverpaw in and guided him to a mossy nest to lie down in. With Nightleaf supervising, Daffodilheart began to question the apprentice.

“I’m sorry you had to miss training,” the golden-furred she-cat murmured, her greenish-yellow eyes soft with sympathy. “What’s up?”

“I feel sick…” Silverpaw replied shakily.

“You don’t seem feverish, though, and your eyes and nose are clear. Is it in your chest?”

“No, it’s—” Pigeonstar started to explain, realizing she should have done so as soon as they arrived. She was interrupted by an urgent yowl from Silverpaw.

“I’m gonna be sick!” And he scrambled to his paws and staggered out of the den.

Daffodilheart immediately darted after him, an anxious expression on her face.

Nightleaf watched them go without betraying much concern. “They’ll be all right. Daffodilheart knows what she’s doing. It’s you I’m worried about. How’s leadership going?”

Why’d you have to say that, Nightleaf? Pigeonstar had almost managed to forget all her duties in her concern for poor Silverpaw. “Oh, it’s going, you know,” she returned in a failed attempt at nonchalance. When Nightleaf twitched his whiskers to let her know he wasn’t falling for it, she gave up. “Actually, even just thinking about it now is making me feel a little queasy…”

The black tom’s eyes glimmered in amusement. “I don’t think leadership is making you queasy. I think it’s just the thought of what Silverpaw’s going through.” More seriously, he added, “I know you’re worried about your responsibilities, but remember that you are leading under StarClan’s authority. They made you leader, and they will guide you if you truly need it. Don’t doubt yourself so much.”

~

Early the next morning, far earlier than she would have chosen, Pigeonstar woke up with the most awful feeling in her belly. It was indescribable, apart from the fact that she realized that she needed to get to the dirtplace posthaste. 

After that was taken care of, she staggered back toward her den, feeling incredibly weak and shaky, as bad is if she’d received a good beating after walking all day. Despite her discomfort, she was alert enough to recognize the cat who passed her on her way back: Raccoonpaw!

It was amazing what being sick did for a cat’s attitude. The snarky apprentice looked unusually subdued as she rushed toward the dirtplace. Pigeonstar had just enough time to realize that she pitied Raccoonpaw when Nightleaf hailed her from the entrance of his den, just a few fox-lengths away.

“Good morning, Pigeonstar! You’ve got it too?”

She nodded miserably.

The black tom padded over to her. “That’s a shame. You’d best come to my den for some grape root… I sent Daffodilheart out looking for more at first light, as I’m almost out. Cats have been coming in all night with this complaint.”

Pigeonstar noticed then that the medicine cat looked exhausted, and his voice was strained with weariness. She didn’t want to burden him unnecessarily, but at the same, she knew if she protested, he would only grow more insistent. Nothing stopped Nightleaf from doing his job.

Birds were singing their morning songs, but Pigeonstar wasn’t in the mood to pay attention. She followed Nightleaf back to his den and was shocked to see that all of the nests for sick cats were full; Mistfang, Fogstorm, Emberspots, and Crowwhisker were all sleeping in the medicine den. Silverpaw was missing, however.

“Where’s Silverpaw?” she asked in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake the others.

“All the other apprentices came down sick,” Nightleaf explained while nosing through his herb store, “so I sent him back to his own den.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Pigeonstar murmured. A wave of worry surged through the Clan leader as a new realization dawned on her: If more and more cats became ill, BrickClan would be very vulnerable to attacks, not to mention that hunting would be more difficult as well. She couldn’t help but voice her fears.

“Nightleaf… What if everyone gets sick? What will happen to BrickClan?” Her mew was edged with panic as she gazed pleadingly at her medicine cat.

“Eat this and go back to your den.” Nightleaf dropped a piece of grape root in front of Pigeonstar.

The gray she-cat stared at the black tom. Was he really going to ignore her question?

Nightleaf sighed. “Very well, Pigeonstar. I can see you won’t just leave it. There really isn’t anything to worry about… Although it’s possible we may have a few days when the Clan will be completely out of it.” Noting the terrified expression that flitted across Pigeonstar’s face, he hastened to add, “As I said, no need for any serious worry. I’ve seen sicknesses like this, and they neither kill nor last a long time. You’ll all be right as rain before you know it.”

The medicine cat’s matter-of-fact assurances helped calm Pigeonstar a little, and she found herself able to gulp down the grape root. Nightleaf gave her a friendly nod as she padded out of the medicine den.

“Really, Pigeonstar. BrickClan will be all right. You just relax and get some sleep now.”

~

“Well, well, well. Poor Clan leader.”

Pigeonstar groaned in dismay as the sneering tones of her deputy dragged her out of a light doze. Mouse dung! I thought I might actually be able to get a good, deep sleep. Blinking sleepily, she lifted her head to meow a greeting.

“Hullo, Spottedtail.”

The ginger tom’s eyes gleamed maliciously. “Shall I get you something to eat? Maybe a nice frog?” When she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the mention of food, he continued. “Oh, that’s right. You couldn’t keep it down if you wanted to. I guess I’ll just go hunt for myself, then.”

Pigeonstar rested her head on her paws, not in the mood to deal with his taunts. Whatever, just leave, please!

“Do try to get some rest, dear niece. Can’t be fun to be sick all night and day…” Spottedtail’s voice simply oozed with false sympathy. “I can only imagine how awful you must feel. Well, good-bye!”

Relief washed over the gray she-cat as Spottedtail turned and slipped out of the den. He was just so…so…slimy! It boggled her mind that such a fox-heart could be her father’s brother. Guess there’s just no explaining some things.

~

The next day, Pigeonstar wasn’t feeling much better, but an unexpected case of irony improved her spirits slightly. Spottedtail had also come down sick; as she came out of her den for some sunlight, she had noticed him crouched in a miserable huddle just outside the warriors’ den.

Tempted as she was to go gloat, she still felt pretty awful herself, and it wouldn’t have made sense. Besides, she could empathize with his discomfort, and teasing him would have been like chewing off her own whiskers.

It was mid-morning, and apart from Spottedtail, several other warriors were ill, lying around either in or near the warriors’ den. There just wasn’t any more room in the medicine den.

The cats who were still healthy were milling around anxiously by the fresh-kill pile, or rather, where the fresh-kill pile had been. There was no prey left.

Stretched out in a patch of sunlight, Pigeonstar could hear their worried voices.

“What are we going to do?” Raggedfur wailed. “Both Pigeonstar and Spottedtail are sick! And Nightleaf is super busy!”

“Couldn’t the senior warriors organize things?” Sleetstripe suggested calmly. “I mean, they—”

“No!” Rainpelt snapped, cutting off the silver tom. “Didn’t you hear? Shrewtail is the only senior warrior left! The rest are sick!”

“What?!” Raggedfur gasped, her amber eyes widening with shock.

“It’s true, I saw them,” Dandelionfur piped up. “They’re all as sick as coyotes.”

Pigeonstar heaved a huge sigh. Were all grown-up cats this helpless? There wasn’t really anything she could do; normally it would have been her responsibility to stop the chaos, since she was the leader, but she simply didn’t feel up to it.

A firm yowl rose above the fretful babble. “Be quiet! All of you!”

Silence fell, though Pigeonstar wasn’t sure if it was due to the tone of authority in this cat’s voice, or simply that the others were dumbstruck by his command.

It was Oakfang. “Listen up,” the tabby tom meowed crisply. “Our leader and deputy are sick, so that means we have to hold the Clan together for them. How hard can it be?”

He received only stares from his audience.

With a snort, he continued. “We just need to get a few patrols together. None of the elders are sick, so we can ask one of them to stand on guard duty. That way all of the healthy warriors can go on patrol. Okay?”

Looking slightly embarrassed at the way she had carried on, Raggedfur nodded. “I can go talk to the elders, if you like.”

“All right, go ahead.” After the dappled she-cat had vanished into the elders’ den, Oakfang turned his attention back to the others. “So, we just need to get a hunting patrol and a border patrol out now, and then again in the afternoon. I think it’ll be fine if we don’t have as many hunting patrols as usual, because the sick cats aren’t eating.”

As the brown tabby warrior sorted the healthy cats into groups, Pigeonstar was amazed by his efficiency. Before long, the two patrols had left camp, and the Clan leader found herself thinking that Oakfang would have made an excellent deputy.

He just walked into a near-catastrophe, calmed everyone down, and assigned jobs. And all without losing his composure! Yes, it really had been quite impressive.

A little over a quarter-moon had passed. The sickness was mostly gone, although many cats were still suffering from a touch of fatigue. As Nightleaf had predicted, no cats died, but it had been extremely unpleasant.

Oakfang never had become ill, and remained an effective substitute deputy until Spottedtail was sufficiently recovered to resume his duties. The Clan was safe, thanks to the brown tabby’s careful leadership. Hunting and patrolling hadn’t been easy, with so few healthy cats, but BrickClan had managed.

To celebrate the Clan’s recovery, the elders decided to give a nighttime storytelling. The moon was close to being full, so there would be plenty of light to see the storytellers’ gestures. It was true that the Clans were diurnal as part of their pact with the coyotes, but as long as they all stayed in camp, it would be fine (even if it meant they’d be slow to get out of their nests in morning). It was time to relax and have a bit of fun.

Pigeonstar was really looking forward to it. She hadn’t listened to elders’ tales much after she became a warrior, and there hadn’t been any big storytelling nights for seasons; the last she that could remember happening had been when she was a kit.

The sun had nearly set, and the sky was painted with a gorgeous array of colors. The few clouds in the sky were a bright rosy pink on the edges, and purplish gray on their shaded sides. The sky itself was a fading light blue that turned to peachy gold near the horizon. From her perch in the Talloak, the young leader watched the sunset with a great feeling of contentment. BrickClan was almost back to normal again, and this night would be one long remembered.

When the fiery edge of the sun disappeared behind the hills, and the last rosy hues had faded, she tore her gaze away from the lovely view and looked down on the camp. Most cats were already waiting outside their dens, but just to be sure, Pigeonstar called a summons.

“Let all cats gather around the Talloak!”

She purred in amusement at the kits’ response.

“All cats! That means us, too!” Lightkit squealed as he bounced on his toes.

“Yippee!” was Warblerkit’s delighted cry as she dashed to the base of the Talloak. “Storytime!”

Ashkit said nothing as he sat while his mother was grooming him, but his eyes shone and his ears were pricked.

Pigeonstar’s heart pounded. She had made announcements before, but she still wasn’t used to speaking with every cat hanging on her words. She waited a moment till the Clan had settled down, and then outlined the plan for the night.

“As you know, the elders will be telling stories tonight…”

The apprentices and kits cheered as if it was the first time they had heard of it.

When their voices died away, Pigeonstar continued. “We will gather in front of the elders’ den, and there will be a feast. After the elders finish their meal, the storytelling will begin. Swiftclaw tells me the elders have three stories planned. Any questions?”

Raccoonpaw raised her tail.

“Yes, Raccoonpaw?” Pigeonstar hoped it wold be a serious question and not just something goofy, as seemed likely.

“What if someone needs to use the dirtplace in the middle of a story?” The apprentice’s tone was perfectly innocent, but there was the usual mischievous gleam in those dark orange eyes. So much for that hope.

Fighting not to roll her eyes, Pigeonstar responded as calmly as she could. “Then we’ll just take a break, I suppose. Any other questions?”

When no cat raised a tail, the leader declared, “Then let’s eat!”

~

In accordance with Clan tradition, the apprentices presented fresh-kill to the elders before selecting their own meals. For a while, nothing was heard but the sound of chewing and quiet murmurs as the BrickClan cats discussed the anticipated stories.

When they finished eating, the sky was mostly dark, and the air was cooling. As soon as the cats finished their after-meal grooming, they bunched together in little groups for warmth.

The apprentices were all curled up together in a sleepy heap. Mates and siblings usually were the ones to stick close, though some of the younger warriors formed their own clusters. 

Pigeonstar couldn’t help purring at the sight of her parents together: Merlinfoot was leaning on Stormwhisker’s shoulder, and the gray tom had his fluffy tail wrapped around Merlinfoot’s slender form.

Her gaze drifted over to Sleetstripe and Speckleheart next. Speckleheart was sprawled on her side, curling slightly around her kits. Sleetstripe crouched next to her, their heads touching. Pigeonstar could her their contented purrs all the way from where she was sitting.

BrickClan was happy, and it was moments like these when Pigeonstar felt that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be the Clan leader. Until she remembered, of course, that she was the one responsible for making sure they all stayed safe. Oh, well. She’d get used to being leader eventually… Right?

Pigeonstar sighed and took stock of who was immediately around her. She was mildly surprised to find herself at the center of a group of five. Rainpelt was curled up with her back against Pigeonstar’s right flank, and Thrushstep sat beyond Rainpelt. He hadn’t settled down yet, and was still washing his paws and face. 

On her left side sat Lightningpath. The cream tom was crouching rather stiffly, and was only just close enough to share warmth; in fact, his pelt barely even touched the fluffy edges of Pigeonstar’s. Daffodilheart was stretched out on the other side of her brother, looking almost asleep save for the fact that her ears kept swiveling this way and that, probably listening to the conversations around her.

In spite of her attempts to remain alert, Pigeonstar yawned. It was late, and she had a full belly. Consequently, she felt very muddle-headed and sleepy. She couldn’t doze off, though, for the elders were sitting up and looked as though they were ready to begin.

Shredear was sitting in the middle of the elders, and it was she who began. “Cats of BrickClan…”

At the sound of her first words, the soft voices of cats whispering to each other were silenced.

“…We are gathered here for the first great storytelling night since our youngest warrior were kits. We will tell you three legends from long ago, beginning with the tale of how Lynx defended his home from Cougar. Bluetail knows that story best, so she will tell it.” Shredear dipped her head to the gray she-cat beside her.

Pigeonstar was breathless with excitement. She hadn’t heard that legend before. She’d listened to many a story of Lynx’s cleverness and bravery, and plenty of Cougar stories, but never one that involved both ancient cats in a dispute with each other. This was going to be great! It was almost like she was an apprentice again, so thrilled was she to hear a new tale.

Bluetail shifted her paws slightly and cleared her throat. The elder’s sleek gray coat was lent a silvery cast by the moonlight, and her large golden eyes seemed to glow. Taking a deep breath, she began.

“A long time ago, before the Clans, before the Twolegs, Lynx and Cougar walked these lands. Their descendants still live today, but are seldom seen. The ancestor of all the coyotes we now share our territory with also inhabited this place long ago. All of these ancients looked very different, however.

“Lynx had a handsome tail, long and full, nothing like the little tails of today’s lynxes; Cougar was plain brown from her muzzle to the tip of her tail, again unlike her descendants that we know; and Coyote had just a stumpy scrap of a tail that looked far to small for such a large creature.”

“Were the ancient cats just like us, smaller than coyotes?” Warblerkit mewed when Bluetail paused to take a few breaths.

“Oh, no,” said Swiftclaw, answering for his denmate. “They were huge, just like their descendants. Cougar especially was gigantic, far larger than any coyote ever was. Lynx was much larger than we are, but still a little smaller than most coyotes.”

An awed Warblerkit stared at Bluetail, hoping for confirmation or rejection of this incredible statement.

“It’s true,” Bluetail meowed solemnly. When no further questions came, she continued.

“Now, one newleaf, Cougar decided that she would move across the river for a while. You see, she had grown tired of hunting in the thickets of the forest, and was ready for a change. She wanted to hunt deer where they couldn’t hide, where she could easily find them. Therefore, she swam across the river.”

“Wow, just like that?” Gravelpaw said, looking rather impressed.

Bluetail nodded. “Remember, this was before the Twolegs lived here, so there was no bridge. The Twolegs built the bridge when they came. All right. So Cougar crossed the river. This new land, with all of the open grass and only a few trees dotted here and there, seemed perfect for her.

“However, it wasn’t entirely perfect. Another cat already lived there: Lynx. Cougar didn’t want to compete for hunting rights, so she chased him away, into Coyote’s territory. Lynx was very upset, but he knew he wasn’t big enough to fight Cougar; he needed time to figure out a plan.

“Lynx found Coyote and asked him if he could stay on his territory, just until he got rid of Cougar. Coyote said that would be fine, on one condition: Lynx must share half of whatever prey he might catch with Coyote. Lynx agreed, of course, for what other option did he have? There was no way he would leave to find a new home; he had lived in this land too long to give it up easily.

“Lynx devoted all of his time to devising clever plans to make Cougar leave, but nothing worked. He tried scaring her with falling tree branches, sticking bramble stems in her nest, even laying traps to trip her up while she hunted, but to no avail. These minor inconveniences were not enough to convince Cougar to leave this place where deer were easily caught.

“Coyote, that sly trickster, watched all of this, in case there might be something else in it for him beside the extra prey from Lynx. When a discouraged Lynx returned to his temporary home after yet another failed attempt to drive out the intruder, Coyote approached him with an offer of help.

“Lynx was too suspicious (and proud) to listen, at first. But as newleaf passed and he still had no luck in reclaiming his territory, he sought out Coyote to ask what he would require in return for helping to get Lynx’s home back.

“Coyote was very generous. He would ask for nothing in payment if his attempts failed, and so Lynx was relieved. His relief didn’t last long, for Coyote then named his price for a successful plan to remove Cougar: Lynx’s tail. If Coyote could get Cougar away from Lynx’s territory, Lynx would have to swap tails with Coyote.”

“No!” Lightkit gasped, his eyes wide with horror. “That’s not fair!”

“Lynx didn’t think so, either,” Bluetail replied. “He was very proud of his fine, bushy tail. However, he was desperate to recover his territory, so he agreed. He didn’t figure that Coyote would be able to come up with a better plan, anyway, so he would probably keep his tail.

“One hot summer day, a thunderstorm moved in on the land. It didn’t rain at first, and only flashed and boomed. One bolt of lighting struck a stunted alder tree, which caught fire because it was so dry. Coyote happened to be nearby, and he broke off a burning branch and ran with it in his jaws.

“Coyote came to Lynx’s temporary den and offered him the burning branch, saying that Lynx should use it to chase Cougar away, for there is nothing any animal fears more than fire. So Lynx took the branch and ventured into Cougar’s territory.

“The great cat was sound asleep in her bramble den. It was but the work of a moment for Lynx to set fire to the thicket, and he backed away as fast as he could, leaving the burning branch stuck among the bramble tendrils. Cougar smelled the smoke and awoke to find her den on fire!”

“Lynx was so brave,” Rainpelt whispered in Pigeonstar’s ear. “I love hearing Lynx stories!”

Pigeonstar nodded absentmindedly in agreement, her eyes fixed on Bluetail as the elder proceeded with the tale.

“Cougar fled her den, but not fast enough. Her tail and ears were burning! She ran as fast as she could to the river and dived in, extinguishing the flames. She decided that it wasn’t worth trying to go back to Lynx’s territory again, and swam all the way across the river to her old home in the forest.

“Coyote, satisfied that his plan had worked, immediately rushed to find Lynx when he realized Cougar wasn’t coming back. He demanded his payment for helping Lynx reclaim his home. Lynx didn’t want to give up his handsome tail, but a promise is a promise, and reluctantly he traded tails with Coyote, and never had to deal with Cougar again.

“Now Cougar was singed so badly by the fire that her ears and tail-tip turned black, and that is why cougars today have black ears and tail-tips, so we remember her foolishness in trying to take something that wasn’t hers.

“Lynx ended up with a little stubby tail, and Coyote with a fine brushy tail. They passed these features down to their descendants so that coyotes (presumably) remember how sly and clever their ancestor was, and so that we remember what a sacrifice Lynx made to defend his home. We should honor his sacrifice and learn to never be afraid to protect our home.” Bluetail finished the story, and gazed proudly at her spellbound Clanmates.

There was silence for a moment, then the cats started cheering the elder for her wonderful effort in telling the story. The apprentices in particular perked up enough to rowdily yowl her name and demand the story be repeated.

“Sorry, young ones,” Bluetail purred. “It’s Swiftclaw’s turn now. But I promise you’ll like his story; I know it’s one of your favorites. He will be telling the tale of how the warrior code began.”

“Awesome!” Aspenpaw, a normally quiet young she-cat, exclaimed. Her ragged tail flicked with excitement.

As the Clan settled in for another story, Pigeonstar found a purr swelling in her throat. It felt so good to be here with her Clanmates, not as leader, but as just another cat anticipating the next story. It was a good feeling.

If only it could last forever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BrickClan was very slow to wake up the following morning. The storytelling and general merriment afterward hadn’t ended until quite some time after moonhigh. But wake up they had to, for there were borders to patrol and prey to catch.

Even the cats on the dawn patrol didn’t get up until it was actually dawn, rather than a little before like they usually did. Sleep-deprived sluggishness was affecting everybody, that was for sure.

Pigeonstar herself didn’t even wake up until sunhigh, when Spottedtail came in to ask her who was going to the Gathering, so he could adjust the rest of the day’s patrols if need be to give the cats who were going some time to rest.

The Gathering! She’d completely forgotten that was tonight. How could I be so mouse-brained?

“Goodness, Spottedtail, I’m so sorry. I haven’t actually thought about it yet. I forgot it was tonight, I’m sorry,” she said rapidly, feeling her ears grow hot with embarrassment. “How many cats usually go, again?”

The deputy twitched his whiskers and replied in a tone of exasperation, “About ten or so, Pigeonstar. I can choose them myself if you’re not sure.”

That was actually a tempting offer, and was an easy way out of something she wasn’t sure how to do, but as leader, it was her responsibility to choose the Gathering party. It wasn’t without reluctance that she refused. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I think this is something I… I ought to do.”

“Well, just let me know soon, all right?” Spottedtail meowed, backing out of the den.

Wow, did Spottedtail just come and go without doing anything slimy? That was weird. Well, maybe he had mellowed a bit after the storytelling night. Unfortunately, this new attitude probably wouldn’t last long.

Right. Down to business. Ten was all of the claws on her forepaws, so if she picked one cat for each claw, it would be pretty easy. So first, who had to go? Herself and Spottedtail, obviously, and of course the medicine cats. So now she had… six claws left to match to cats.

Stormwhisker would be a good cat to bring. She wanted to have the comfort of her father’s presence at her first Gathering as leader. Probably another senior warrior would be a good idea. What about Volepelt? Pigeonstar didn’t think he’d been to a Gathering in a while.

Four more. This wasn’t too difficult. Maybe two apprentices and their mentors. Gravelpaw and Crowwhisker for sure; Gravelpaw had sprained a paw before the last Gathering, and consequently missed it. The other three had gone, though, she was pretty sure, so which one should she take?

It would have to be Raccoonpaw, she felt. The apprentice was always so awful to Pigeonstar that she would probably accuse the Clan leader of being prejudiced if she didn’t choose her. Pigeonstar really would much rather have taken Silverpaw, but she didn’t want to deal with Raccoonpaw’s griping.

Wait—didn’t at least one elder usually go as well? Yes, of course. If Pigeonstar didn’t bring any elders, BridgeClan would think something was wrong. It felt strange to then have a cat for only one claw on a hind paw, but she had to stop somewhere. Eleven was plenty. So, which elder? Shredear would be a good choice. Well, any of them would be, but…

That’s enough, Pigeonstar scolded herself. Quit waffling and just go tell Spottedtail.

She stretched, squeezing her eyes almost shut in enjoyment of the sensation. A good stretch was something the young she-cat always loved.

Knowing that Spottedtail was waiting for her, Pigeonstar quickly slipped out of her den and went off to find him so she could tell him what she’d decided.

~

Although the Clans’ current agreement with the coyotes dictated that the night belonged to the coyotes, there was one exception: The night of the full moon. All those seasons ago, when the Clans had first been forced to make a treaty of sorts for safety, this was the one condition the cats wouldn’t back down on. The coyotes had agreed, provided that the cats would not hunt at that time, and would move only on the most direct route to the Ancient Oak.

Fully aware of this, the BrickClan delegation stuck close together as they padded down the narrow trail to the park. Raccoonpaw looked unusually nervous, constantly swiveling her ears and flicking her eyes from side to side.

Oakfang, her mentor, moved more confidently. His head and tail were raised as he strode along the trail. The wavy fur that covered his body had been groomed before he left, and seemed to float soft and fluffy around him. Yes, even though his perfectly groomed coat still looked bedraggled, as was its nature, he looked good, and he knew it. The ragged fur still irritated him, though!

Quietly chatting, brothers Spottedtail and Stormwhisker seemed quite comfortable as well. Of course, as senior warriors, they had made this nighttime trip many a time.

Pigeonstar wasn’t really paying any attention to what her Clanmates were doing; she was too busy thinking about getting up in the Ancient Oak and addressing not just her own Clan, but BridgeClan as well. What would she say to Asphaltstar? The BridgeClan leader would surely be shocked by the recent developments in BrickClan.

Most intimidating was the possibility that the BridgeClan wouldn’t even believe what she told them, and might just think this was some massive prank produced by Tealstar's unstable mind.

The young she-cat really didn’t want to be leading her Clan to the Gathering. Spottedtail would probably pretend to be leader if she asked him. Actually, he would probably want to make his leadership permanent. Never mind that idea, then. Besides, Stormwhisker wouldn’t approve, and Pigeonstar didn’t think she could stand to go against her father in moral issue like that.

Speaking of Stormwhisker, the gray tom had stopped talking to Spottedtail and worked his way through the group to Pigeonstar’s side.

“Stand up straight, and at least act like you’re excited to be here,” he murmured into his daughter's ear. “This is your first Gathering as leader, after all!”

Pigeonstar was startled out of her reverie. They were almost there! Hurriedly she tried to follow her father's advice as soon as she had squeezed under the fence at the park’s boundary. While she waited for her Clanmates to emerge from under the fence, she lifted her tail up and angled her whiskers forward to put on an appearance of eagerness.

Her keen nose told her that BridgeClan was already there, which wasn’t surprising; BridgeClan had been arriving first to the Gathering as long as Pigeonstar could remember. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed through the bushes and into the small clearing around the base of the Ancient Oak.

A black tom and a gray-brown she-cat were sitting on the roots of the tree, talking softly to each other. As soon as they noticed BrickClan's arrival, the pair sprang down off the roots and padded forward to meet their rivals.

“Greetings,” meowed the black tom, who Pigeonstar remembered was Asphaltstar. Noting that Pigeonstar was in the lead, he addressed his questions to her, in spite of her obvious youth. “Where is Tealstar? She is not ill, I hope?”

Pigeonstar hesitated, wondering how the BridgeClan leader would take her news. But answer she must, so she admitted, “She died almost a half-moon ago.”

Asphaltstar looked as though he was going to reply, but his deputy, Doveclaw, got there first. “Then where's Snowheart? Or Snowstar, as he probably is called now?”

Well, this was awkward. “Um… He died just before Tealstar did. He was killed by coyotes.” The young leader of BrickClan could not bring herself to meet the BridgeClan cats’ gazes, and she stared at their paws instead.

“Then you have my condolences,” Asphaltstar responded solemnly. “Snowheart was a wise and noble cat.”

“So who is leader, then? Surely not you,” Doveclaw said in a somewhat aggressive tone, her tail-tip twitching.

“Well, uh, actually—” Pigeonstar was going to explain, but the BridgeClan deputy interrupted.

“No way! I remember when Tealstar announced that you were a warrior, Pigeonpelt or whatever your name is. You're far too inexperienced to be a leader!” Doveclaw finished her outburst with a scornful spit.

“Hey! You can’t talk to our leader like that!” Raccoonpaw exclaimed, shoving past her Clanmates to stand nose to nose with the BridgeClan deputy. “Pigeonstar is higher-ranking than you are now, so watch your mouth, you fox du—”

“It seems that you need to follow your own advice,” Oakfang said, stalking to his apprentice’s side and giving her a cuff around the ears. Looking Doveclaw in the eye, he added, “I apologize for my apprentice’s rudeness.”

The gray-brown she-cat glared at the BrickClan tom, and snapped, “Well, just try to keep her under control, huh?”

“She had a point, though,” Oakfang muttered under breath as he padded back past Pigeonstar with Raccoonpaw in tow.

“We’ll let you get settled in before the Gathering starts, okay?” Asphaltstar broke in, obviously wanting to ease the tension. “Remember, this is a peaceful meeting. StarClan won’t be pleased if you start fighting.” To Pigeonstar, he said, “I in turn apologize for my deputy’s behavior. StarClan has chosen you to lead your Clan, and I trust that you will do well.” He dipped his sleek black head respectfully and turned away, beckoning to his deputy to follow him with a flick of his tail.

As the BrickClan cats started to disperse to greet the other BridgeClan cats, Pigeonstar took Raccoonpaw aside, to the edge of the clearing. Before she could say what she wanted to, however, Raccoonpaw spoke.

“I know it was out of line or whatever, but she had no right to bash you like that,” the apprentice muttered.

Pigeonstar was touched. This was the she-cat who never missed an opportunity to tease Pigeonstar, and tonight she had spoken up staunchly in defense of her leader. “I wasn’t going to scold you,” she said to Raccoonpaw. “I…I just wanted to say, thanks for standing up for me.”

The scruffy-looking she-cat shuffled her paws. “Aw, it was nothing. I still think you’re a wimpy mouse-heart, but an insult to the leader is an insult to the Clan. Can I go now?”

Pigeonstar nodded, and Raccoonpaw bounded off to join her brother, who was talking to a BridgeClan apprentice, and a completely unfamiliar white she-cat. She felt no need to go mingle; if someone wanted to talk to her, fine, but at the moment, she was content to just watch.

Before long, Asphaltstar scrambled up to a low branch on the Ancient Oak, and it occurred to Pigeonstar that she was expected to do the same. Once she had taken her place beside the BridgeClan leader, Asphaltstar called the Clans together.

“We are gathered here in the sight of StarClan…”

At the sound of his voice, the medicine cats and deputies quickly seated themselves on the roots of the Ancient Oak. The murmuring of the other cats faded as they turned their attention to the leaders in the tree.

“...To meet in peace and share tongues,” Asphaltstar finished the traditional opening. “As Pigeonstar is the new leader of BrickClan, I’d like to invite her to—” He broke off and coughed several times, sounding rather labored. Recovering himself, he continued, “Sorry about that; it’s not contagious, though! As I was saying, I’d like to invite our newest leader to speak first.”

Me? Speak first? Pigeonstar gulped. There was no polite way to refuse, and if she did, she’d look weak. As if she didn’t look weak enough by just staring in silence at Asphaltstar. She did remember to nod in acknowledgement, though, and after taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves, she began.

“This past half-moon…has been a sad one for BrickClan. Snowheart was killed by coyotes, and only a little while after…after appointing me as deputy, Tealstar…died.” She’d gotten the most difficult part out, and paused a moment as a few BridgeClan cats voiced their sorrow in Snowheart’s passing. No one said anything about Tealstar; her own Clan had been loyal to her, but most of BridgeClan lost their respect for the aging leader as her mind became shaky. There were, unfortunately, also a few disbelieving mutters at the idea of such a young cat being leader.

When silence had fallen once more, she continued. “Spottedtail is the deputy of BrickClan now.” Uh… What else has happened since the last Gathering that should be reported? Of course, Daffodilheart received her full name, so Pigeonstar kept that on her mind.

“Spottedtail! Spottedtail!” the gathered cats cheered. The ginger tom dipped his head in acknowledgement of the acclamation, looking rather smug.

“Also…Daffodilpaw completed her medicine cat training, and has taken on the name Daffodilheart.” This news pleased the gray she-cat to share, as the young medicine cat was one of her good friends.

As expected, the Gathering cheered at this announcement as well. “Daffodilheart! Daffodilheart!”

Time to wrap things up. She could fill this time with the usual stuff leaders always spouted. “Prey is running well in BrickClan, and Speckleheart’s kits are growing up strong and healthy. Um… Asphaltstar?” Pigeonstar looked at the BridgeClan leader.

“Thank you, Pigeonstar,” the black tom said. “BridgeClan is doing very well. We have a new member with us tonight, a former loner who asked to be taken in. Although of warrior age, we decided to apprentice her to Iristail, most likely only for a short while, to teach her everything about Clan life. I am pleased to introduce Swanpaw to you all!”

A youngish white she-cat, who Pigeonstar has indeed taken for a warrior on first sight, stood up when Asphaltstar said her name and glanced shyly down at her paws as her name was called out in welcome.

“Swanpaw! Swanpaw!” Pigeonstar lifted her voice along with the others.

“Our Clan will be growing even further in a few moons,” Asphaltstar continued proudly, “as Finchstorm is expecting kits again. Skunkfur, as you might have guessed, is the father.” He waited while the BrickClan cats congratulated her.

Just as Asphaltstar opened his mouth to speak again, he was overcome by racking coughs, and sank into a crouch, coughing loudly and shaking with each one. Several heartbeats passed before he stopped.

Gasping in shock, Pigeonstar immediately moved to Asphaltstar’s side. “Are you all right?” she inquired anxiously. She didn’t think the BridgeClan leader was very old, so it didn’t make sense for him to have coughing fits like this.

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind her. It was Squirrelnose, BridgeClan’s medicine cat. Thankfully, the branch was wide enough for Pigeonstar to pass him and get out of the way, but it was very uncomfortable to brush past a cat from the rival Clan so closely.

The gray-and-white tom crouched beside his leader and whispered, “How are you feeling?”

A moment passed, and then Asphaltstar raised his head. “Not great,” he replied hoarsely. “You didn't hear that, though,” he added to Pigeonstar as he struggled to his paws again. More loudly, the black tom addressed his medicine cat once more. “I’m quite fine, Squirrelnose, thank you.”

It was with obvious reluctance that the BridgeClan medicine cat slipped past Pigeonstar and scooted back down the tree. He must have wanted to do a more thorough examination of Asphaltstar, but Clan pride meant that it would have to wait until after the Gathering.

Still sounding a little raspy, Asphaltstar hurried up and finished his report. “As usual in greenleaf, we have an abundance of prey, which is wonderful for our apprentices to practice their hunting techniques. And a quarter moon ago, Spiderclaw led a patrol to successfully chase a gray fox out of our territory. That is all from BridgeClan, unless my Clanmates have anything else they would like to share…”

“Indeed, we do!” A dark-furred warrior sprang to his paws, his tail lashing. “What I’d like to know is, how did BrickClan even allow such an apprentice to become leader? I highly doubt Tealstar was in her right mind when she made this choice of deputy. And furthermore, StarCl—”

“That’s enough, Shadowfur!” Asphaltstar growled. “StarClan accepted her as leader, which means you must accept it as well, like it or not. If you have nothing of importance to say, be silent.”

“Yeah, Shadowfur, put a mouse in it,” an old ginger tom snorted.

Shadowfur lashed his tail, but sat down again. Not even this outspoken cat would disobey an order from his leader.

Pigeonstar was beginning to feel panicky again. Yes, she didn’t have to defend herself, since Asphaltstar had so swiftly rebuked his warrior, but being challenged by two BridgeClan cats in one night was a bit nerve-racking. If the other Clan felt this way when they didn’t even know if she was a capable leader, surely there plenty of cats in her own Clan who, knowing that she didn't have a mousetail of leadership skills or courage, were completely against her being the highest-ranking cat in the Clan.

Like Kinkflower, who had been so sharp-tongued on that disastrous hunting patrol, or Dandelionfur, who often gave her baleful glares for no apparent reason.

However, soon she would be able to go home and panic in her nest instead of out in public. While her mind was racing along those frightening trails, Asphaltstar had declared the Gathering to be officially over.

With a great sense of relief, she backed down the trunk of the Ancient Oak and found herself face to face with the old ginger tom who had scolded Shadowfur. Her relief vanished. Now that everybody had begun to mingle again, he would probably give her some subtle insult.

Much to her surprise, what he said was quite different. “You pay no mind to Shadowfur, okay?” the ginger tom meowed gruffly. “He’s just a birdbrained windbag. Now, I can’t say as I think you’ll be a great leader, but who knows. I sure don’t know a thing about you other than that you’re as scared as—pardon the expression, since that’s your name—a pigeon trapped by a fox.”

“Uh…” Pigeonstar didn’t really know how to reply to this elder. She wasn’t even sure whether to be comforted by his words or to be even more terrified than he had correctly perceived she was.

“You don’t have say anything. Just know that not all of us make judgements in a heartbeat.” He dipped his head and padded away.

Still feeling rather unnerved by how the Gathering had gone, Pigeonstar forgot to call her Clan to return home, and it ended up being Spottedtail who ordered the others to say their goodbyes.

The deputy led the way home, and Pigeonstar found herself bringing up the rear, feeling very small and inadequate.

Chapters 12-14

Extra save

GLOSSARY

(Terms are added after they appear in the story)

Lynx: a bobcat

Shrieking-owl: a Barn Owl

BONUS ONE-SHOTS

A Sticky Situation - takes place in BridgeClan after The Fox and the Pigeon, but has no spoilers, so you can read it at any time.

Cross That Bridge! - takes place in BridgeClan before Chapter Eight of The Fox and the Pigeon. It is about Swanpaw's arrival to BridgeClan.