“And this, young Pinepaw, is Twolegplace!” Mistpelt pointed with her tail to the tall wooden fence that ran along the edge of the trees.

Pinepaw tipped back his head to look at the top of the fence. It stretched away on either side of him, all the way to the ends of the forest. “Did the Twolegs build the fence to keep us out?” he asked.

Mistpelt purred with amusement. “We’re not that scary! I think they wanted to mark their border, just as we mark ours, but they’re too lazy to send out patrols. Just like any other Clan border, you must remember that we are not welcome on the other side.” The warrior’s eyes gleamed, startlingly green against her pale gray fur. “That’s not to say we can’t have a poke around over there when we wish, though. It’s nothing like the forest, that’s for sure!”

She started to pad away along the edge of the trees, her belly fur brushing the long grass. The scents of greenleaf hung heavy in the air and the breeze tasted of pollen and sap.

Pinepaw stayed where he was, trying to imagine what could be so different on the other side of the fence. Were the trees a different color? What sort of dens did Twolegs live in? He spotted a small hole in the fence, just at the level of his ears. He crept up to it and peered through.

A huge yellow eye glared back at him. Pinepaw squealed and leaped backward. There was a mad scrabble of claws and a deafening rattle of wood as Mistpelt hurtled up the fence and balanced on the top, arching her back and screeching.

“Leave my apprentice alone, you mangy furball! Too frightened to come over here and face us, aren’t you? Go back to your Twolegs, fox-brain!”

She jumped down again and nodded to Pinepaw. “Nothing but a fat old kittypet,” she meowed, sounding rather out of breath. She dipped her head to lick the fur on her chest. “You’ll chase them off yourself next time.”

Pinepaw glanced nervously back at the hole. Was the kittypet still watching him? He was sure he’d have bad dreams about monstrous eyes peering through holes for the rest of his life. He kept close to Mistpelt’s flank as she padded away, resisting the urge to glance back and see if they were being tracked.

“I don’t mind if I never see a kittypet again,” he muttered.

Mistpelt purred. “Oh you will, but they won’t frighten you. Their teeth and claws are as blunt as stones, and they’re all scared of their own shadow!” She nodded toward a thick swath of brambles that blocked their path. “Beyond that is the Thunderpath. Can you hear it?”

Pinepaw paused to listen to the steady growl of monsters rumbling past. They didn’t seem as alarming as the kittypet because he knew they never left the hard black stone. The biggest danger here was encountering trespassing warriors from ShadowClan, who lived on the other side. Mistpelt led him into the prickly brambles and Pinepaw peeked out at the blurred shapes of monsters rushing past. A stench-filled, warm wind buffeted his fur and he shrank back, trying not to gag.

“We won’t go any closer than this,” Mistpelt warned. “You’ll learn how to cross the Thunderpath when you go to the Moonstone, but that won’t be for a while.”

Pinepaw felt a prickle of excitement beneath his fur. His whole life seemed to be rolling out before him, as clearly as if he were gazing down at it from the top of a tree. This was only his first day as an apprentice, and already he had encountered kittypets and monsters! He wondered if they would come across the other apprentices, who were all out training with their mentors. Pinepaw was used to being alone, as he didn’t have any littermates, but he was looking forward to training with the others, and trying out for real the battle moves he had attempted as a kit.

He followed his mentor along the territory border, a few tail-lengths from the rumbling Thunderpath. The gritty scent of the monsters clung to every leaf and blade of grass, and Pinepaw wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it off his fur later. Ahead of him, Mistpelt halted abruptly, her ears pricked. Pinepaw could see flashes of bright orange between the trees, and throaty Twoleg bellows cut through the growl of monsters.

“We’ll have to go around them,” Mistpelt whispered. “I don’t think they’d be interested in us, but let’s not take any risks.” She crouched down and crawled into the bracken, away from the Thunderpath and the cluster of Twolegs who stood at the edge. Pinepaw hung back, trying to peer through the trunks to see what they were doing. They all had shiny orange pelts and hard white heads that reflected the sun. Two of them were standing in a muddy hole at the edge of the Thunderpath, and another was prodding the ground with a stick.

“Come on!” Mistpelt hissed in Pinepaw’s ear, making him jump. He’d been so busy watching the Twolegs, he hadn’t heard his mentor return. “What are you waiting for?”

“I was trying to see what they’re up to,” Pinepaw whispered back.

“Curious apprentices get their noses bitten,” Mistpelt teased. “Oakstar sent a patrol out here last night. It looks like the Twolegs are digging a tunnel under the Thunderpath, where it gets very boggy.”

“Cool!” breathed Pinepaw.

His mentor looked at him. “Hardly. We don’t want to make it easy for ShadowClan to wander into our territory, do we?” Her tone was dry, and Pinepaw ducked his head, feeling foolish.

They pushed through the bracken and headed away from the Thunderpath. Pinepaw’s legs were aching and his pads were stinging from thorns and stones. He had never walked so far in his life! He didn’t know how patrols managed to go all around the territory every single day. The noise of the Thunderpath faded away, and soon Pinepaw could hear the gentle splash of running water.

The river! He had heard so much about it and tried so hard to picture it. He burst out of the ferns and stood on the shore. It’s like a watery Thunderpath, he thought, feeling slightly disappointed. From the way the elders talked about it, the river seemed like a terrible place, waiting to suck young cats under the surface. The fact that RiverClan warriors liked to swim just made them more sinister and terrifying.

Mistpelt padded past him over the crunchy stones. “Come dip your paws!” she called as she stepped delicately into the water.

Pinepaw backed away, imagining the water lapping hungrily at his belly, dragging him off his feet. “I’m okay, thanks,” he mewed. He stared across the river to the willow trees on the other side. Their leaves shimmered gray and silver in the breeze, and the reeds beneath them whispered. Were they being watched by RiverClan cats? Pinepaw shuddered. He didn’t want to meet any of those fish-breaths today. Not before he’d learned how to fight properly.

Mistpelt returned, shaking droplets from each paw in turn. “Let’s head back,” she meowed.

“Really? I’ve seen the whole territory?” Pinepaw asked.

Mistpelt purred. “Well, most of the borders. We’ll leave everywhere else for another day.” She ducked into the ferns and picked up a tiny path, strongly scented with rabbit and something else, sharp and bitter. “That’s fox,” Mistpelt commented, noticing Pinepaw wrinkle his nose.

Pinepaw blinked. “Is it near?” he squeaked.

“No, this is an old scent.” Mistpelt picked up speed as the path widened, and suddenly Pinepaw realized he had seen these trees before, and smelled these exact scents… and there was the path at the top of the ravine that led down into ThunderClan’s camp. Home!

He followed his mentor down the stony path and pushed his way through the gorse into the clearing. Before he could catch his breath, a brown tabby she-cat with green eyes was nuzzling him, licking the fur on his back and purring.

“Well, what do you think?” Sweetbriar demanded. Before Pinepaw could reply, she turned to Mistpelt. “Was he good? Did he listen to you?”

Pinepaw wriggled free. “Of course I did!” he mewed. His mother was so embarrassing.

Mistpelt nodded. “He was a perfect apprentice.”

“Of course he was,” rumbled Oakstar, coming to join them. His dark brown fur gleamed in the sun, and his eyes were warm as he gazed at Pinepaw. “My son is going to be the finest warrior this Clan has ever known!”

Pinepaw straightened up. “I’ll try!” he promised.

“You must listen to everything Mistpelt tells you about training for battle. I want you to be ready to fight those mangy RiverClan cats!” Oakstar meowed. “They will not take another son from me!”

Pinepaw watched his father’s eyes cloud with sorrow. He had never known his half brother Birchface; he just knew that Birchface had died in a battle with RiverClan.

A cream-and-white she-cat joined them. “He might fight ShadowClan warriors before then,” she warned. “Those Twolegs will finish the tunnel soon, and ShadowClan will have direct access to our territory.”

Oakstar nodded. “You’re right, Doefeather, but I think they’ll turn back if we renew the scent markers there every day. Can you make sure the dawn patrols do that, please?”

Doefeather nodded. “Of course.”

There was a crackle of gorse and Flashpaw, Daisypaw, and Littlepaw burst into the camp, closely followed by their mentors.

“We just had a great battle practice!” Daisypaw mewed. Her gray-and-white fur was sticking up along her spine and there was a piece of bracken hanging from one ear.

Doefeather studied her. “You look as if you lost,” she pointed out.

“She did,” Daisypaw’s sister, Flashpaw, declared. “Littlepaw and me nearly squashed her!”

“Not necessarily a move to take into battle,” commented Littlepaw’s mentor, Squirrelwhisker. She nodded to Doefeather. “Your apprentice fought well, though. Very brave, even when the other two joined against her.”

Doefeather purred. “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks for taking her.”

Flashpaw’s mentor, Nettlebreeze, was drinking water from some soaked moss at the side of the clearing. Swallowing, he turned to Pinepaw. “How was your first walk around the territory?”

“Amazing!” Pinepaw mewed. “I saw a kittypet and some Twolegs!”

“Ooh, scary,” teased Daisypaw.

“He did very well,” Mistpelt meowed. “In fact, I think he can join your practice tomorrow to help Daisypaw out. What do you think, Squirrelwhisker?”

The brown tabby warrior dipped her head. “We’d be honored to have you with us, Pinepaw and Mistpelt.”

Pinepaw bounced on his toes. Being an apprentice was the best thing ever!

Crack! A twig snapped beneath Pinepaw’s foot and he stopped dead, holding his breath. Ahead of him, the blackbird was still pecking in the leaf mulch. He let out a sigh of relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flashpaw mouth, Lucky! at him, and Pinepaw nodded. Just a few more steps and he’d be within pouncing range.

He had been an apprentice for almost one moon, and this was his fourth hunting patrol. He had caught something on every single patrol so far, and he wasn’t going to let that change now! He eased his weight onto his front paws and gathered his haunches beneath him in the hunter’s crouch.

“Sssshhhh!”

Pinepaw looked around. Who said that? Flashpaw had vanished and he seemed to be alone among the ferns.

“Get off my tail!” hissed a different voice. “Do you want to let the whole of ThunderClan know we’re here?”

Pinepaw froze. That wasn’t one of his Clanmates. Were they being invaded? He sniffed the air. This close to the Thunderpath, the scent of leaves and prey was mostly smothered by the stench of monsters, but today there was something else, the faintest hint of a cat scent that he hadn’t smelled before…

His pelt bristling along his spine, he prowled toward the bush where he had heard the voices. He had forgotten about the blackbird. It flew up with a squawk, and there was a flurry of movement among the brambles. Pinepaw glimpsed flashes of brown, gray, and orange fur, and the glint of unsheathed claws. He had lost his chance to creep up on them now.

“Intruders!” he yowled, spinning around and racing toward where he had left the rest of his patrol. “Come quick!”

Doefeather leaped out in front of him, her fur standing on end. A splash of blood on her muzzle showed she had just made a successful catch. “Where?” she demanded.

Pinepaw nodded over his shoulder. “In those brambles,” he panted.

“Wait here,” the deputy told him. She bounded toward the bush, letting out a screech. “ThunderClan warriors, to me!”

The undergrowth around Pinepaw came alive as Mistpelt, Squirrelwhisker, Daisypaw, and Littlepaw burst out. Mistpelt paused beside Pinepaw. “What’s going on?”

“We’re being invaded!” Pinepaw told her.

Squirrelwhisker sniffed the air and bared her teeth. “A ShadowClan patrol has come through that wretched tunnel! Come on, let’s chase them back where they came from!”

As she raced away with Littlepaw at her heels, Mistpelt mewed, “Pinepaw, go to the camp for more warriors!” Then she disappeared after her Clanmates.

Pinepaw was about to plunge into the bracken toward the camp when something struck him. He was sure he had only seen three or four cats among the brambles. That meant they were already outnumbered by the ThunderClan patrol. Rather than waste time by fetching more cats, why didn’t he join the others and give chase now, before the intruders got too far into the forest?

Whirling around, he set off after his mentor. A volley of yowls and hisses told him that the invaders had been confronted. Pinepaw launched himself through a dense thicket of elder and scrambled out on the other side. In a small clearing, the rest of his patrol faced four ShadowClan warriors. Their heads were lowered and their tails lashed from side to side. Pinepaw gaped at the moment, struck by how lean and strong the ShadowClan cats looked, how calm and ready for battle.

Then he looked at his own Clanmates, standing their ground with their fur bristling. He knew which side he wanted to fight on! He bounded over to stand beside Mistpelt, who hissed, “I told you to fetch help!”

“That would take too long. I can be of more use here!” Pinepaw whispered back. He sank his claws into the damp earth and ran through every battle move in his head.

Littlepaw touched him with the tip of his tail. “Fight alongside me,” he murmured. “We’ll cause more trouble if we stick together!”

Pinepaw nodded and shifted closer to the black-and-white tom.

“You want us to leave?” sneered one of the ShadowClan warriors, an orange-and-gray she-cat with mean amber eyes. “You’ll have to make us!”

“We will!” Doefeather retorted. She sprang at the intruder, clearing the gap with a single stride. At once the other ShadowClan cats rushed forward and the ThunderClan cats leaped to meet them.

Pinepaw and Littlepaw threw themselves at a light brown tom with a distinctive snaggletooth. Pinepaw clung onto the warrior’s neck while Littlepaw nipped his ears. The cat flung himself to the ground, dislodging Littlepaw, but Pinepaw held on, sinking his claws into the warrior’s fur. When the cat tried to roll over and crush him, Pinepaw sprang sideways, then jumped back onto the warrior’s shoulders as he scrambled to his paws.

“Nice move!” Littlepaw panted, ducking around to bite the ShadowClan cat’s tail. The warrior let out a yowl and staggered. Pinepaw took the opportunity to cuff his broad head, and the cat sank to his knees.

On the other side of the clearing, Mistpelt was snarling at a dark gray tom. Blood dripped from the she-cat’s ear, but her eyes were fierce as she lashed out at the intruder. He tried to step back but was blocked by a bramble; trapped, he could only duck as Mistpelt rained blows on his head.

“Go, Mistpelt!” yowled Pinepaw.

The orange-and-gray cat rolled away from Doefeather and stood up. “ShadowClan warriors, retreat!” she growled.

The fourth intruder, a gray-and-white she-cat, snapped at Daisypaw’s ears once more, and got clouted by Squirrelwhisker in return. Pinepaw braced himself for another attack, but the orange-and-gray warrior hissed, and as one, the ShadowClan warriors turned and sprinted away. Doefeather charged after them and the rest of the patrol fell in behind. In spite of his scratches and bruised paws, Pinepaw felt himself fly over the ground. We won!

They chased the intruders all the way to the tunnel under the Thunderpath, then stopped just beyond the churned-up earth and watched them flounder back into the damp-smelling hole.

“And stay out!” Doefeather screeched.

There was a rustle of bracken on the far side of the Thunderpath as the ShadowClan cats emerged, then silence. Even the Thunderpath was empty and quiet, save for the panting of the ThunderClan warriors.

Mistpelt nudged Pinepaw, and he looked up at her. “You fought well, youngster,” she mewed. “Your father will be very proud.”

Pinepaw felt his pelt grow hot with pride.

Doefeather nodded. “Good decision to stay with us,” she grunted. “Brave, too. We’ll make a leader of you yet, Pinepaw. Just wait and see.”