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Moonpaw gasped. Rogues around RiverClan camp?

“Do you suppose they’re preparing an attack?” Maplenose’s voice was quivering.

Thrushpaw crouched, eyes flaring with determination. “If they were, I’d rip their fur off!”

“But what would they possibly gain from an attack?” Whitebird asked. “The scent was rather fresh, but they’ve obviously gone now. Wouldn’t they have attacked already if they’d been planning to?”

“We should invade their territory and see how much they like it then!” Thrushpaw suggested, an evil glint in his amber eyes.

“Quiet down,” Redleaf instructed them calmly. “This is Birchstar’s ordering. We should report this to him and he will decide what to do about it. Come,” he waved his ginger tail. “Let’s go back.”

The patrol moved swiftly on the way back to camp; it was not soon after that they arrived. Thrushpaw lashed his paws as if he were attacking an enemy. “Hurry, let’s tell Birchstar! I can’t wait to claw those mangy crow-food eaters’ flanks off!”

Eyes wide, Moonpaw stared as she saw Redleaf whisper what they had discovered to Birchstar. The respectful leader’s fur bristled at the news, and he bounded up onto the high rock.

“Let all the cats old enough to catch their own prey gather before the high rock for a Clan meeting!” He sounded rather worried.

Slowly, cats stumbled out of their cozy dens to sit under the high rock. Moonpaw saw Thinwhisker spitting in annoyance to the other elders at how Birchstar’s call had interrupted a pleasant sleep. Pantherheart curled up next to Gingerstorm, his plump mate, by the nursery, as to not force the pregnant she-cat to walk long distances with a full belly. Moonpaw pressed her flank against Littlepaw’s, awaiting the news that she already knew.

Birchstar began. “Redleaf’s border patrol has brought back some interesting and possibly threatening news.” Moonpaw noticed cats around her reposition themselves, anxious. Their leader continued. “Whitebird has scented rogues on the RiverClan border.” Gasps rose from the Clan. “The scent smelled as if the rogues had been here early dawn.”

“Well, we can’t let them get away with this!” Thinwhisker spat, lashing her ginger tail.

Murmurs of agreement rippled throughout the crowd.

“Hush,” Birchstar ordered. “These rogues pose no threat to us now, so in the meantime there is nothing we need to do.”

Yowls of disapproval echoed about.

“What?” Pantherheart hissed. “You’re letting trespassing rogues go unpunished?”

“This is an outrage!” Maplenose agreed.

“I’m going to track down those pieces of fox dung and rip their claws off!” Snakestripe promised, his pelt prickling.

“No one is going to do anything unless I order so!” Birchstar growled fiercely, leaping off of the high rock without giving any of his Clanmates a chance to comment.

Moonpaw shivered at the complaints being tossed about her Clan; her pelt bristled when she sensed the tension pulsing swiftly through the Clan. No cat seemed to be happy with Birchstar’s decision. Silently, she padded to her den, trying to be rid of them. She didn’t think the strategy her leader had ordered them was really that horrible. But what if Birchstar really is making the wrong decision? What will become of RiverClan if rogues rip us to shreds?