For generations, four clans have shared the forest. But ThunderClan is in severe peril, and the other three Clans grow stronger every day. In the midst of this turmoil, appears two house-cat's named Rusty and Star... who both may turn out to be the...
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⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
AS THEY HEADED out of the camp, the three young warriors nearly crashed into Whitestorm, who was leading Sandpaw, Dustpaw and Runningwind into the forest for the dawn patrol.
"Sorry!" panted Fireheart. He stopped, and Graystripe and Whiterose skidded to a halt beside him.
Whitestorm dipped his head, "I heard you two are going on a mission," he meowed.
"Yes," Fireheart replied.
"Then may you have StarClan's protection," meowed Whitestorm gravely.
"What for?" Sandpaw sneered. "You off to catch voles?"
Runningwind, the lean tabby, turned and whispered something in Sandpaw and Dustpaw's ears. Their expressions changed and the contempt in their eyes switched to guarded curiosity.
The patrol stepped aside to let the three cats pass. The trio raced on and scrambled up the side of the ravine.
The three shared a few words as they followed the route through the forest to Fourtrees, saving their breath for the long journey ahead. They paused at the top of the steep slope on the far side of the oak-shaded clearing, their sides heaving from the climb.
"Is it always windy up here?" grumbled Graystripe, fluffing out his thick grey fur against the blast of cold air that swept across the uplands. "It must be called WindClan for a reason, then." Whiterose mused.
As Fireheart sniffed the air, they all detected a scent that they recognised. "Do you smell RiverClan warriors?" he murmured uneasily.
"I do," Whiterose replied. "They might want to make most of WindClan's absence, especially since they know WindClan will be back soon."
"Well, I can't smell anything now," whispered Graystripe. The three cats padded watchfully along a frozen turf trail sheltered by heather.
A fresh scent stopped Whiterose in her tracks, "Can you smell that?"
"Yes," whispered Graystripe, flattening himself against the ground. "RiverClan!"
Fireheart and Whiterose both dropped into a crouch, keeping their ears below the heather. Beside Whiterose, Graystripe lifted his dark grey head to peer over the bushes. "I can see them," he murmured. "They're hunting."
Whiterose and Fireheart stretched up curiously to look.
Four RiverClan warriors were chasing a rabbit through a patch of gorse. Whiterose recognised Blackclaw, Silverstream, Stonefur and Leopardfur from the Gatherings. Blackclaw, the smoky-black warrior pounced, his claws unsheathed, but sat up again with nothing to show for the chase. The rabbit must have made it to the safety of the warren.
