by Erin Hunter
“Careful!”
“Look, there’s one over there!”
“Don’t fall in!”
I flattened my ears at the sound of chatter and splashing coming from the end of the halfbridge. The noise traveled clearly over the still water, piercing the pine-scented air in ShadowClan’s territory and sending the night prey farther into their holes. There’d be no fresh-kill in my camp tomorrow morning, once again. My Clan would go hungry—and it was RiverClan’s fault.
I nodded to Oakfur and Cedarheart, then pointed the tip of my tail toward the small wooden Twoleg nest at the edge of the water. Oakfur and Cedarheart padded across the hard stone and slipped into the shadows around the wooden nest. With my tail straight up in the air, I gestured for Tawnypelt and Rowanclaw to stay behind me. Then I backed under the cover of some ferns growing at the edge of the stone and sat down to wait.
At the last half-moon, I had visited Leopardstar and asked that she stop her patrols from hunting off the halfbridge, which was right at the edge of my Clan’s border. RiverClan had been fishing during daylight up till then, attracting the attention of the Twolegs that had made their temporary nests in the clearing on the far side of ShadowClan’s territory. Dogs and young Twolegs had come crashing through the pine trees to watch the swimming cats. Their clumsy noise scared off the RiverClan fishers long before the Twolegs arrived, but my Clanmates were left crouching in the scant undergrowth, forced into cover by the intruders and fearing discovery by one of their slavering dogs.
I could have solved the problem with force, extending ShadowClan’s territory to include the halfbridge and the place where Twolegs came to launch the creatures that floated on the lake with huge white wings. That would have kept the RiverClan hunting patrols out of the water closest to ShadowClan’s territory. But the Clans had been living at the lake for only three moons; I wasn’t going to challenge the newly laid-out borders yet, not when the memory of the Great Journey was fresh in every cat’s mind. The four Clans had found the lake together, working as allies for the first time that any cat knew, even the elders. However much I wanted to defend this new territory, I didn’t want to be the one to break the truce that had saved us when our forest homes were destroyed.
So I had surrendered to a RiverClan border patrol and asked to be taken in peace to Leopardstar. When I told her about the unwanted intrusion by Twolegs coming to investigate the cats fishing off the halfbridge, Leopardstar had sympathized and agreed that things would be different from now on. It seemed as if the bonds forged during the Great Journey had survived the separation into four distinct Clans.
After my visit to Leopardstar, things had indeed been different: Instead of hunting off the halfbridge during the daytime, summoning Twolegs and dogs through the pine trees, RiverClan now fished at night, the time when ShadowClan hunting patrols ventured out. Leopardstar must have known that hunting from the halfbridge at night would only create new problems. If RiverClan was determined to prove that it owed nothing from the Great Journey to the other Clans, then ShadowClan was ready to show the same absence of respect.
A slender gray shape appeared at the edge of the black stone: Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy. Stonestream’s shadow loomed behind her, followed by the smaller dark brown outline of Voletooth with plump, lazy Swallowtail beside him, given away by her distinctive rolling gait. I narrowed my eyes in satisfaction. One cat each.
“ShadowClan, attack!” I yowled, springing out of the ferns. Halfway across the black stone, Mistyfoot froze. The other RiverClan cats stumbled into her, dropping their fish.
The stone felt rough and hot under my paws as I raced to tackle the RiverClan deputy. I was too fast for Mistyfoot to react; crashing into her, I swept her paws from under her belly and raked my claws along her flank. Beside me, Tawnypelt challenged Swallowtail with a furious hiss; quick as lightning, the RiverClan she-cat spun around and lashed out with her front paws, catching Tawnypelt’s ears. Just before I sprang at her, I had time to be impressed that the overfed she-cat could move so neatly. I landed on Swallowtail’s back with my claws out; the dark tabby screeched and collapsed to the ground underneath me. I jumped clear as she flopped sideways, trying to crush me. The weight of her body as well as all that fish-tasting fur would have squashed the breath out of me.
A flash of gray at the edge of my sight warned that Stonestream was coming to help his Clanmate; he was met by Oakfur and Tawnypelt, side by side on their hind legs, driving him back with perfectly matched blows. On the far side of the patrol, Rowanclaw had wrestled Voletooth onto his back and was holding his scruff in his jaws while raking the brown tom’s belly with his hind legs.
Behind me, I heard Mistyfoot scramble to her paws. Her breath came in jagged gasps as she snarled, “Blackstar! What are you doing?”
I took a step backward from Swallowtail and flicked my tail from side to side, ordering my Clanmates to surround the hunting patrol and hold them in place. Instantly, my warriors stopped fighting and ran into position. Cedarheart placed himself between Swallowtail and the halfbridge, blocking off that means of escape in case the cats tried to swim away. Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt stood on the far side of the patrol with their backs to the rest of RiverClan’s territory. They were vulnerable to being attacked from behind, but the rest of us would keep half an eye on the dense undergrowth, checking for RiverClan warriors coming to their Clanmates’ rescue.
Oakfur lined up beside me and curled his lip when Stonestream took a pace toward him. The RiverClan cat blinked and stepped back.
“Wise move,” Oakfur growled.
I flashed a glance at him. This was an ambush, not a war. We had won the first skirmish without trouble; from now on, I would handle the talking.
Mistyfoot spoke first. “What in the name of StarClan is going on?” she demanded.
I took a deep breath, letting my anger root me to the ground through my unsheathed claws. Losing my temper would be a sign of weakness, and right now, with my warriors surrounding the RiverClan patrol, I was in control. “Leopardstar promised that you would no longer fish from the halfbridge.”
Mistyfoot’s eyes flashed. “She promised we would not hunt when Twolegs could see us. We have kept her word.”
“You know full well that you are making enough noise to summon Twolegs from the other side of the mountains.” My words hissed through my clenched teeth. “How are we supposed to hunt if all our prey has been scared off before our patrols can set out?”
“Perhaps your patrols should learn to hunt better,” sneered Voletooth. “Or do you teach your apprentices to sit with their mouths open until a piece of fresh-kill hops inside?”
I ignored Voletooth and spoke to Mistyfoot again. “Every Clan deserves a fair chance to make their new territory their home. Your selfishness is making that harder for us.”
“Selfishness?” Mistyfoot echoed. “Since when was feeding our Clanmates selfish? Voletooth is right; you need to stop blaming us for the fact that you can’t catch enough prey.”
Curling his lip in anger, Rowanclaw swiped the air with his front paw. “We caught you easily enough tonight,” he reminded her.
Stonestream leaped forward. “Let’s see how brave you are in an honest fight,” he challenged. “Instead of sneaking around like foxes!”
Rowanclaw reared up on his hind legs and let the moonlight gleam on his thorn-sharp claws. “Oh, that would be my pleasure,” he growled. “Would you like to land the first strike, or shall I?”
“Stop!” yowled Mistyfoot. “This is not a battle we want to fight.”
I rounded on her and snarled, “It is a battle that we will fight if you don’t stop fishing from the halfbridge.” But I signaled with my tail for my warriors to leave the RiverClan cats alone.
“You should be ashamed of going back on your leader’s promise,” I growled to Mistyfoot. “Leopardstar knew what she was agreeing to when I told her the problems you were causing by fishing from the halfbridge. I gave her a fair chance to end it, and she chose not
to take it.”
Mistyfoot’s eyes flashed in the silvery light. “She chose to let her hunting patrols do what they do best, and feed their Clanmates.”
“Then we’ll respond with what we do best, which is fighting without mercy to protect our Clanmates,” I replied calmly.
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Mistyfoot’s gaze. She knew as well as I did that her warriors stood no chance against mine in a full-scale battle. “Okay, you’ve made your point,” she meowed. “We’ll stop fishing from here, and leave you to figure out how to catch the prey in your new territory.”
I felt Tawnypelt bristle at the RiverClan deputy’s thinly hidden insult. Don’t worry; she’s not going to get away with that. “You think that’s it, do you?” I queried. “One halfhearted skirmish and I’ll leave you in peace?”
Mistyfoot glanced warily at my patrol. “What else do you want?”
“Fresh-kill,” I answered. “You owe us for lost nights of hunting.”
Stonestream snorted. “Are you serious? You think we’re going to surrender our Clanmates’ food to you just because you can skulk in shadows and jump out on cats in their own territory?”
I shook my head. “No. You’re going to give us your food because next time we’ll do more than skulk in the shadows. Next time we’ll bring a patrol right into your camp and rip the ears of each of your warriors so that every Clan knows that Leopardstar cannot keep a promise.” I let my claws scrape on the stone, twisting my paws so that the starlight caught the sharpened tips.
Mistyfoot stood rock-still, with only a blink to suggest that she was shocked by my threat. “I…I think Leopardstar will agree to what you want,” she meowed. “As you say, each Clan should have a time of peace to settle into its new home.”
“We’ll take half of whatever you catch,” I ordered. The knowledge that we had won made my pelt tingle, but I kept my voice steady. “Leave it on the halfbridge at dusk each day until the next half-moon. And if we see a single cat fishing here, we’ll be in your camp before you hear us coming.”
Mistyfoot dipped her head. “Since we have…removed the problem, there is no need to mention it at the Gathering, I presume?” She sounded as if she were speaking through gritted teeth. “It is of no interest to the other Clans, after all.”
I did my best to hide a flash of amusement. How satisfying to have the RiverClan deputy beg to keep Leopardstar’s betrayal a secret from the other Clans. I was half tempted to refuse and let WindClan and ThunderClan know of RiverClan’s mean spirit toward their newly settled neighbor. But that would only cause more trouble, and Mistyfoot was right: Peace was needed while our territories were still only half-known.
“Very well,” I meowed. The RiverClan deputy turned to leave, but I called her back. I needed to make sure that she knew ShadowClan had not been softened by the Great Journey, that we owed nothing to any Clan and would not shy away from waging war against our former allies.
“Oh, and Mistyfoot? Never trust the shadows. My warriors wear the night like second pelts. If you wrong ShadowClan, you will never be safe in the dark.”
RIVERCLAN
* * *
RIVERCLAN FACTS
Leader: Mistystar
Deputy: Reedwhisker
Medicine cat: Mothwing
Hunting territory: The lake and streams
Camp: Overgrown island in a stream
Unique battle skill: Water combat
* * *
Reedwhisker’s Welcome
Intruders, Silverpaw? Are you sure? Oh, Onestar, it’s you. What are you doing on this side of our territory? Great StarClan, that’s a long walk for a pair of kittypets. Here, bring them down to the shore so they can cool their pads in the water. Are you joining WindClan? No? Then why…?
I see. You want to know the secret behind RiverClan’s strength in battle. Well, you are up to your bellies in it right now. That’s right, water. Water feeds us, cools us, and keeps us safe from foxes, dogs, and curious Twolegs. It gives us the power to choose whether we fight or not, knowing that few cats are brave enough to swim across our borders to attack us. Some say we are too quick to hide behind our barricade of streams, but it’s easier to call us cowards than admit we have an advantage over all the other Clans.
We can slide out of rivers like fish with fur, silently flooding the shore before our enemy knows we are there. You may look at my Clanmates and see only sleek, glossy fur as thick as a kittypet’s, but look closer and you’ll find strong legs that can carve through water and tails that steer us through the swiftest currents.
Have you seen how we hunt? Not with speed or stealth or pounces, but with lightning reflexes, scooping fish from the lake while they drowse below the surface. How would you like to feel these claws raking over your spine? In close combat, RiverClan cats are the most feared among all the Clans because we can hold our enemy down and rake their bellies until they beg for mercy. If the ground is too open for close combat, we’ll lure our enemies to the shore and drag them into the water to fight there. Other cats’ fur quickly becomes sodden and heavy, pulling them down, but our fur sheds water like the feathers on a duck. We stay light and nimble, freed by the water rather than trapped by it. Our rivals don’t stand any chance of winning when the lake fights alongside us.
So don’t listen to the other Clans when they say we are proud, lazy cats who unsheathe our claws only to catch our food. They fear us because we have water as our ally. And because of all the Clans that ever lived in the forest or by the lake, we are the only one never to have been overrun against our will. That is real strength, young kittypets.
Special Battle Tactic: The Rushpaw Splash
RiverClan fish! RiverClan swim! RiverClan warriors use water to win!”
The line of apprentices stopped chanting as they halted on the bank of the stream with their paws sinking into the soft brown earth. Mistystar looked proudly at them. She’d trained apprentices before, but being the RiverClan leader made her feel even more connected to these young cats who would fish and swim and fight to protect future generations.
“Into the water!” she called, and the four apprentices scrambled down the bank and waded into the gently flowing water.
“Ooh, it’s cold!” whimpered Rushpaw, trying to stand on tiptoe to keep her belly fur dry.
Her littermate Tanglepaw snorted. “Don’t be such a scaredy-mouse. You won’t notice it after a while.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Rushpaw grumbled. “My legs are way shorter than yours. You’re hardly wet up to your knees!”
Mistystar flicked her tail. “Rushpaw, would you like to run ahead and tell the enemy exactly where and when we’re planning to attack? Perhaps you’d like to invite them to strike first?”
Rushpaw put her head to one side. “What would be the point of that? I thought you said we’d be learning about surprise attacks today?”
“That’s what she’s trying to teach us, fluff-brain,” hissed Pikepaw. His dark gray fur bristled along his spine. “But you’re making such a fuss that every cat from here to the mountains knows where we are!”
Rushpaw looked down at the surface of the stream and flattened her ears. “Oops. Sorry.”
Mistystar tried not to let her amusement show in her voice. “Thank you for reminding us, Pikepaw,” she meowed out loud. “Today we’re going to pretend that this stream is the lake, and the far bank is the border of one of the other Clans. All the territories slope down to the shore, but you’ll rarely find border patrols there because the other Clans don’t see water as a point of access. Why does this give us an advantage?”
“RiverClan fish! RiverClan swim! RiverClan warriors use water to win!” the young cats shouted.
“Exactly. Now follow me, and make sure only your ears, eyes, and nose show above the water.” Mistystar jumped down the bank and slid into the stream. The water flattened her fur, cold and comforting and lifting her gently off her paws. She let herself sink until only her muzzle peeped out, tipping back he
r head to keep her eyes and ears level with the surface. Pushing off with one hind paw, she let the current sweep her into the center of the stream, using long, graceful strokes to propel her between the banks.
The apprentices struck out behind her; twisting her head, Mistystar saw Pikepaw sink so far down that only the tip of his nose was visible. She hoped he could still see where he was going. Rushpaw and Tanglepaw’s littermate Duckpaw held herself higher in the water, but she swam strongly, without splashing. Tanglepaw looked as if he were putting in more effort—probably because of his long fur, Mistystar guessed. It took a while for a RiverClan cat’s fur to become glossy enough to shed water like a duck’s feathers, and Tanglepaw would be weighed down as it became sodden. Behind him, Rushpaw paddled frantically as she tried to keep up; her legs were below the surface, but Mistystar could tell she was struggling, because her head bobbed from side to side and her tongue peeped out as she panted for breath.
The stream curved between banks shored up with tree roots and then opened out beside a broad, sandy shore. Mistystar used her tail to steer her toward the beginning of the shore and bent her legs as soon as her paws brushed the bottom of the stream, staying in a crouched position to slip quietly out of the water. “Follow me,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear any of you leaving the stream!”
