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with bristling fur and quivering whiskers. “Gray Wing and I will dispose of the mouse. And warn the others not to eat any prey that looks like this,” he called after them as they turned to go.
    â€œHave you ever seen this sort of thing before?” Thunder asked with a questioning glance at Gray Wing.
    Gray Wing shook his head. “Never—not even in the mountains,” he replied. “We need to get rid of this prey to make sure no cat eats it. No—don’t touch it!” he added as Thunder stretched out a paw.
    Together the two cats collected fallen leaves from the thorn trees and wrapped them around the mouse, careful not to let their paws come into contact with its corpse. Then, still with the greatest care, they rolled it toward a pile of rocks.
    Thunder wrinkled his nose at the faint stench that rose from the dead animal. “What is that?” he muttered. “It’s worse than the smell of death.”
    At last Thunder and Gray Wing managed to shove the mouse’s body into a crack between two rocks, and piled more and more pebbles on top of it until the stench was gone.
    â€œDone!” Gray Wing exclaimed, settling back on his haunches. “And now we’d better find a stream to wash our paws . . . just in case.” He let out a long sigh. “This is not a good sign.”

C HAPTER 8

    When they returned to the hollow, Gray Wing found the other cats anxiously watching for them. He leaped up onto the rock beside Tall Shadow, and told his denmates about the mouse they’d found and how he and Thunder had disposed of it.
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” Wind Runner asked, encircling her kits with her tail and drawing them protectively toward her. “What if there are more sick mice?”
    Even in the midst of his worry, Gray Wing couldn’t help thinking about how much Wind Runner had changed. Ever since one of her litter, Emberkit, had died soon after being born, she had been extra careful with the others. And who can blame her?
    But that wasn’t the only change. Since the battle she had been more reserved, and Gray Wing wondered whether her ambitions for leadership had waned, or whether they had simply changed direction. She’s more focused on Gorse Fur and the kits now, he thought, instead of trying to tell other cats what to do.
    â€œWe have to be on our guard when we’re hunting,” Tall Shadow replied. “If there’s any chance that the prey is ill, you mustn’t attack. And certainly don’t bring anythingdoubtful back into the camp.”
    â€œWhy do we have to be so cautious?” Mud Paws asked.
    Tall Shadow leaned closer to Gray Wing, murmuring into his ear: “Should we tell the three newcomers about the spirit-cats? Will they even believe us?”
    Gray Wing wasn’t sure. “They say they saw the battle. I don’t know what else they saw. I know that we don’t want to frighten them with stories about ghost cats and messages from the sky,” he responded. “But I trust them and, sooner or later, some cat will tell them anyway. I think we should share what we know with them.”
    Tall Shadow hesitated briefly, then gave a nod.
    â€œWe recently received a warning,” Gray Wing began, clearing his throat.
    Instantly Holly leaped to her paws. “What kind of warning?” she demanded. “If it was from that nasty cat One Eye, we’ll—”
    â€œNo,” Gray Wing interrupted. “It was from some . . . distant friends.”
    â€œDo you mean traveling cats?” Mouse Ear asked, sounding puzzled.
    â€œNot exactly,” Gray Wing mewed. These cats are going to think I have bees in my brain! “It’s complicated,” he went on, eager to get to the end of the explanation as quickly as possible. “Just after the battle—before we met you—the . . . spirits of the cats who died appeared to us.”
    A squeak of