Chapter 17

Pinepaw padded out of camp, breathing in the scent of the pine trees. I need to talk to Glidepaw, he thought as he leaped over a fallen branch.

He had come straight out of camp after the news of Mousetail’s death, hoping for a distraction, until he remembered about Glidepaw.

Pinepaw broke into a run as he saw the Twoleg path that marked the SkyClan border. He skidded to a halt next to it, panting, and sat down, waiting. I don’t care how long it takes, he told himself. I want to see Glidepaw.

Pinepaw watched in silence as the sun began to climb higher in the sky. He sighed as the warm light shone on his fur and padded away from the border. He would hunt.

Pinepaw opened his mouth to taste the air. He scented squirrel almost immediately and dropped down in a hunting crouch, spotting the gray creature scuffling around a bush. It didn’t have a chance to escape as Pinepaw pounced and killed it with a bite.

He padded back to the border, the squirrel in his jaws, and leaped into a bush when he saw a SkyClan patrol padding around their side of the border. He peeked through the leaves of the bush and watched them.

A dark gray tom–Riverleap, Pinepaw remembered–was in the lead with Darkfur, Treespring, and Skypaw’s brother, Cloudpaw. Riverleap rubbed his scent against a tree root, then froze, his nose twitching.

“I smell ShadowClan,” the dark gray tom growled.

“Of course!” Cloudpaw mewed cheerfully. Pinepaw was relieved that he was on the patrol–if it had been Skypaw, she would have been much more serious. “The ShadowClan border is right there!”

Riverleap turned to glare at him. “I mean fresh ShadowClan scent,” he hissed.

“Of course,” Cloudpaw meowed again. “Why wouldn’t ShadowClan patrol their borders often? They’re scared of us SkyClan cats!”

Pinepaw winced at the white tom’s words. Riverleap whirled around to give his icy blue glare to Treespring. “How do you handle him?” he spat. “His head is full of clouds. Someone gave him the right name!”

Cloudpaw winced, and Pinepaw felt a wave of sympathy for him. He and Skypaw had lost their mother.

Treespring shrugged. “He’s energetic and cheerful,” he replied. “Signs of a good warrior.”

Riverleap let out a hiss and continued to mark the border. When Cloudpaw looked his way, Pinepaw stuck out his head a little and locked gazes with him. Cloudpaw frowned, then gave a little nod.

Hopefully he understood, Pinepaw prayed.

The patrol padded around the border until sunhigh. Finally Riverleap growled, “Let’s go. We’re finished here!” and stomped away into the trees.

Cloudpaw turned to his mentor as Treespring started to follow the dark gray warrior. “I think I’ll check for the ShadowClan scent Riverleap mentioned,” he told him. “And then afterwards I’ll hunt. You can go without me,” he added as Treespring opened his jaws to protest. “After all, this will be good warrior training, right?”

Treespring hesitated for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “Just be very careful, okay? Don’t rush into danger–I want you back unhurt.”

Cloudpaw gave a bounce of excitement. “Thank you, Treespring!”

Treespring flicked his tail and disappeared into the forest after Riverleap. Cloudpaw turned and padded to the very edge of the border. “Hello?” he called softly.

Pinepaw sniffed the air to check if any other cat was with them, then slipped out of the bush and padded closer. “Hi, Cloudpaw,” he meowed. “Have you met me before?”

Cloudpaw hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I haven’t. What’s your name?”

“I’m Pinepaw,” Pinepaw explained. “I need to talk to one of your Clanmates. Could you please get him?”

Cloudpaw stared at him in shock. When he didn’t reply, Pinepaw pressed, “Please? It’s important.”

“Okay,” Cloudpaw stammered. “Who do you need?”

“Glidepaw,” Pinepaw replied.

“Oh, you mean Glidewing?” Cloudpaw asked. “He got his warrior name half a moon ago. Sure, Pinepaw, I’ll get him!” He vanished into the forest.

Pinepaw waited patiently at the border, ready to leap into his bush again if some other cat came. Before long, he spotted Cloudpaw’s white pelt racing through the trees with another gray cat.

Glidepaw–no, Glidewing! Pinepaw thought happily. “Hi!” he called as the two cats reached him. “Glidewing!”

“Pinepaw!” Glidewing yowled. “I’m so glad to see you again! Where have you been for the past moon?”

“Out of Clan territory.” Pinepaw glanced at Cloudpaw. “Could you please leave?” he asked. “Thank you for bringing Glidewing, but this is a private conversation.”

Cloudpaw dipped his head and vanished into the trees again.

“So,” Pinepaw mewed, settling down onto the grass. “What happened while I was gone?” A pang of grief threatened to shake him, and he dug his claws into the ground, trying to stop an image of a gray cat that he had failed to save forming in his mind. I will not think about her right now. I will not think about her right now.

Glidewing tipped his head to one side as he sat down. “Well,” he began, “did Skypaw tell you Bubble got driven out?” Pinepaw nodded. “Well,” the pale gray tom mewed again, “we’ve been scenting her on our territory again.”

Pinepaw stiffened in shock. “What?” he gasped. Is Bubble trying to kill SkyClan cats again, after Mousetail?

Glidewing nodded. “Don’t worry,” he assured him. “I don’t think she’ll go so far in killing cats again on our watch. Not after what happened with Nimblepaw.” His gaze sharpened with grief.

“You know that Bubble killed Nimblepaw?” Pinepaw gasped. “How?”

Glidewing fixed his intense blue gaze on him. “I knew it the moment I caught Bubble’s scent on her,” he growled. “Very faint, but still there. I smelled it when I went out to bury her. Bubble must have disguised her scent when she killed Nimblepaw.” He snorted. “She’s definitely very bad at disguising her scent, then!”

Pinepaw let out a snort of amusement. “Wait, Glidewing,” he mewed, his throat tightening. “When I came back, Snowycloud told me my mentor Mousetail was dead.” He looked down at his paws.

“I’m sorry,” Glidewing whispered.

“She told me she scented rogue on her,” Pinepaw went on. He looked up and met Glidewing’s horrified gaze. “Bubble definitely killed her.”

“I’m sorry,” Glidewing repeated. “I promise when I get back, I’m going to ask Breezestar to send a patrol out to battle her.”

Pinepaw let out a faint mrrow of laughter. “You don’t need to do that,” he sighed. Glancing up at the sun, he mewed, “I should be getting back now. Sorry. Bye, Glidewing. Oh, and congratulations on your warrior name. It’s beautiful. Much better than Pinetree,” he added with a snort.

Glidewing’s tail curled up with amusement. “I guess,” he meowed. “Bye, Pinepaw. You’re a great friend.”

“You too,” Pinepaw sighed, and then turned and bounded back toward camp. Only when he pushed through the entrance did he remember that he had left the squirrel in his bush.