Warriors: Power of Three 01 - The Sight by Erin Hunter Page B

not fully understand. He had heard Daisy and Ferncloud talking about Hawkfrost, the RiverClan deputy who had died on ThunderClan territory, impaled on a wooden spike from a fox trap. No one was sure what the RiverClan warrior had been doing there. Lionkit had tried to ask his father once about Hawkfrost—after all, Hawkfrost was Brambleclaw’s half brother and therefore Lionkit’s kin—but Brambleclaw had been reluctant to answer. The only information he would give was that Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight had carried the dead RiverClan warrior back to his camp as they would have done with any fallen warrior, and that he had been mourned by his Clanmates.
    As Lionkit strained to hear whether the warriors’ conversation would reveal anything new, he felt the thorn barrier rustle around him. He realized with a jolt that he was right beside the small entrance that led to where the cats made their dirt—the same entrance that he, Jaykit, and Hollykit had sneaked out of in search of the fox cubs. Alarmed, Lionkit sniffed the air. Mousepaw was squeezing his way back through less than a tail-length away.
    He shrank further back into the shadows, but he could not escape Mousepaw’s sharp nose.
    â€œLionkit?” Mousepaw hissed into the darkness.
    Lionkit wondered for a moment whether to bury himself deeper in the barrier, but he didn’t like the look of the thorns, and besides, his pride would not let him. “I’m in here,” he confessed.
    As he spoke, Dustpelt’s amber gaze flashed toward them. “Mousepaw?” he called.
    Lionkit held his breath. Would the apprentice give him away? They had been denmates for a while in the nursery, but Mousepaw might side with the warriors now.
    â€œI’m just on my way back to the den,” Mousepaw told Dustpelt. A moment later he squeezed into Lionkit’s hiding place. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the nursery?” he whispered.
    Lionkit flicked his tail crossly. He was grateful that Mousepaw hadn’t given him away, but he hated being treated like a feeble kit. “I couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled. “I’m used to having Jaykit around.”
    â€œWhy were Dustpelt and Stormfur arguing?”
    â€œThey were talking about Firestar’s decision to give ShadowClan the bit of land by the river,” Lionkit explained. “Dustpelt accused Stormfur of not being a real ThunderClan warrior.”
    Mousepaw flattened his ears, shocked. “I’m surprised that Stormfur didn’t shred him!”
    â€œBut Stormfur’s not a real ThunderClan warrior, is he?” Lionkit pointed out, puzzled.
    â€œYou’d better not say that to his face!” Mousepaw warned.
    â€œBut he was born in RiverClan and lived with the Tribe.”
    â€œMousepaw!” Dustpelt’s voice sounded from the clearing.
    Mousepaw shoved Lionkit further back into the bush. He stifled a squeak of pain as thorns dug into his pelt, and Mousepaw squeezed out from under the branches.
    â€œShouldn’t you be back in the apprentices’ den?” Dustpelt queried.
    â€œI thought I smelled a mouse,” Mousepaw lied.
    â€œStraying into the camp would be stupid even for a mouse,” Dustpelt muttered. “Go to your den. I’m sure Spiderleg won’t be pleased if you’re too tired for training in the morning.”
    â€œYes, Dustpelt.” Mousepaw dipped his head and padded quickly away.
    Lionkit waited, thorns poking him, until Dustpelt and the other warriors headed to their den. It seemed foolish to risk going to the medicine cat’s den now. As soon as he was sure that no cat stirred, Lionkit dragged himself out from under the thorn barrier and crept back to the nursery.
    Several thorns from the barrier had caught in his fur and were tangled in his pelt. They pricked him as he curled gingerly back into his nest. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep, but his conversation with