“But Mapleshade hadn’t finished her revenge. She wasn’t going to rest until she had tortured every cat that she blamed for the death of her kits! She came back to ThunderClan looking for one cat in particular: poor, helpless Frecklewish.” Nettlebreeze lowered his voice and Pinepaw shivered. He had heard this story many times, all the apprentices had, but that didn’t stop them from begging Nettlebreeze to tell them the tale again.

“Tell us what happened when she found her!” begged Daisypaw, her yellow eyes huge. The skirmish with ShadowClan warriors had left her with a deep bite on her foreleg, so she had been staying in the medicine cat’s den for the last few days, but she would be back in training soon.

Nettlebreeze crouched down and let the fur rise along his spine. “Mapleshade found her, all right, patrolling by Snakerocks. Mapleshade forced her into a pile of stones where snakes were hiding, and one of them spat venom right in Frecklewish’s eye!”

He paused, screwing up his own eyes to show what Frecklewish would have looked like.

“Bloomheart found her,” Nettlebreeze went on, his voice growing husky with grief. “But there was nothing he could do. ThunderClan had no medicine cat then, because Mapleshade had killed Ravenwing without an apprentice to take over. Frecklewish died a few sunrises later, when the poison took hold of her from the inside.” He shook his head. “Perhaps that was a sign of mercy from StarClan. If she had survived, she would have been blind and driven mad by the horrors she had seen. If Mapleshade is not in the Place of No Stars, there is no justice!”

“No justice!” echoed the apprentices faintly, shaking their heads.

“Nettlebreeze, are you telling them about Mapleshade again?” Fallowsong pushed her way into the apprentices’ den, shaking raindrops from her fur. “For StarClan’s sake, stop! You keep giving them bad dreams!”

“No, he doesn’t,” Littlepaw protested.

Fallowsong tipped her head on one side. “My nest is just the other side of the den wall,” she pointed out. “I can hear you! Okay, Doefeather has sent most of your mentors to renew the border marks by the tunnel, so she has asked us to take you on a hunting patrol. We’ll try not to stumble across any intruders this time, okay?”

Pinepaw scrambled to his feet and followed the others out of the den. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle that clung to his fur and tickled his eyelashes. He blinked, then broke into a run so that he didn’t have to linger under the dripping gorse.

Fallowsong and Nettlebreeze took them to the pine trees near treecutplace. It was silent and shadowy under the brittle branches, and the cats didn’t say a word as they spread out, looking for prey. Pinepaw watched the other apprentices cover the needle-strewn ground and decided to head closer to Twolegplace in the hope of finding something in the long grass at the edge of the trees. He had patrolled along the fence several times now and never stopped to peek through the hole again. He wasn’t afraid of a lazy kittypet, he told himself. He just didn’t see any need to cross their path.

As he approached the edge of the forest, he saw the sharply pointed red roofs of the Twoleg dens. There was a chatter of high-pitched Twoleg voices, abruptly cut off by a thud, then a monster began rumbling, loud at first but fainter as it rolled away. Pinepaw swerved around a dripping dock leaf, letting the scents of the forest fill his muzzle. There was definitely a hint of prey—rabbit, possibly—and something else, mustier and almost hidden beneath the scent of rain-soaked leaves.

A fallen tree lay ahead, the ground around it sandy and bare of grass where the roots had disturbed the earth. Pinepaw crept toward it, pinpointing the scents to the roots that reached into the air above a deep, sandy hole. The air began to taste warm and furry. This is going to be a great catch! Pinepaw thought gleefully.

Suddenly there was an explosion from the trees beside him and a deafening screech of barking. Pinepaw spun around to see a fox snarling at the edge of the grass. Her russet-colored hackles were raised and drool dripped from her teeth. Behind him, he heard the faintest of yaps from beneath the roots of the tree, and his heart sank. He hadn’t been following the scent of prey. He had picked up the trail of some fox cubs!

The mother fox took a step closer, and now Pinepaw could smell her breath, meaty and hot and foul. Her eyes gleamed with fury and hunger. Pinepaw scanned the gap between the fox and the tree trunk. Could he make a run for it before she caught him? His heart pounded so hard that he couldn’t think clearly, and his legs trembled until it was an effort to stand upright.

The fox leaned forward, ready to strike. Pinepaw closed his eyes and braced himself. He knew he wasn’t fast enough to run away. He would have to hope that he could somehow fight his way out.

Just as the fox was about to leap, there was a thunder of paws along the fallen tree. A ginger-and-white shape flew down to land in front of Pinepaw. It was a cat, her fur fluffed up and her tail bristling.

“Get away from him!” the cat hissed. She lashed out with one forepaw, and sharp claws glinted briefly in the air. “Leave him alone!”

To Pinepaw’s astonishment, the fox lowered its muzzle and took a step back. Its ears flicked as if it was trying to work out what this fierce cat was saying.

“Get onto the fence,” the cat muttered to Pinepaw out of the side of her mouth. “Go on, now!”

Pinepaw turned and jumped onto the fallen tree. Without looking back, he raced along the trunk and leaped from there onto the Twoleg fence. It wobbled under his weight and for a moment he thought he would fall down into the grass to be snapped up by the fox… but then he dug in with his claws and found his balance and stood triumphantly on top of the fence. The ginger-and-white cat joined while the fox barked in frustration below.

“Ha!” jeered Pinepaw. “Can’t catch me!”

The ginger-and-white cat looked at him with cool blue eyes. “And you did what, exactly, to save yourself?” she meowed. “You would have been fed to those cubs if I hadn’t turned up in time.”

“You don’t know that,” Pinepaw argued, feeling his fur grow hot. “I’m a ThunderClan warrior! I know how to fight!”

“You should also know not to come between a fox and her cubs,” mewed the she-cat. “Clearly they aren’t training warriors properly these days.”

“Are you from another Clan?” Pinepaw asked, staring at her glossy fur.

The she-cat rolled her eyes. “What, and chase prey all over the place to catch my dinner every day? Don’t be ridiculous. I live here.” She nodded to the Twoleg den behind them.

Pinepaw gaped. “You’re… you’re a kittypet! But kittypets don’t know how to fight!”

The she-cat blinked. “You might have noticed that I didn’t fight that fox. I just scared it long enough to let you get away. We’re not all cowards, you know.” She stood up and kinked her tail over her back. “Especially if we have kits. Like that fox, we’d do anything to protect our young.” She padded lightly along the top of the fence. “Now, go back to your territory, and stay away from foxes! I won’t always be here to save you.”

She jumped down onto the bright green square of grass below the fence. Without looking back, she trotted to the Twoleg den and vanished through a little gap in the wall. Pinepaw studied the stretch of ground between the fence and the trees. There was no sign of the mother fox; he guessed it had gone into its den under the fallen tree. He leaped down, holding his breath when the fence rattled under his hind paws. He crouched in the long grass for a moment, but there was no movement, no fresh fox scent carried to him on the breeze, so he darted across the open ground to the safety of the pine trees.

His second encounter with a kittypet had been even more startling than the first. And much as he hated to admit it—and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Mistpelt or his denmates what had happened—he owed his life to that bold she-cat. Too late, he realized he hadn’t thanked her. And I’ll probably never see her again, he thought as he trotted through the trees toward the sound of his patrol.