Northbound/Chapter One

The WolfClan camp was utterly still at this time of morning. The sun was peeking over the horizon and golden beams of light were just starting to flood the world. The occasional bird would burst into joyous song before falling silent again, discouraged by the quiet around it. It was going to be a hot day. The animals and birds of the forest could already feel the heat, even though the sun had barely risen. Flies buzzed in the air and cicadas hummed from the trees. At the back of the camp, the river rushed past, cool and inviting.

To say that the camp was still wasn't quite true. There was a lone warrior standing guard in the middle of the clearing. Throughout the night he'd been watchful, but as dawn broke his body sagged with exhaustion and his eyelids began to droop. In the medicine den a sick apprentice was coughing softly, looking very sorry for herself. But it was in the nursery that the action began - it's always the nursery.

This time it was Piplyn who opened her eyes first. The nursery was dark - the thick leaves which had been woven throughout the structure were doing their job well. Piplyn's mother lay beside her still, breathing heavily, one arm slung across her daughter's body. It was hot, so Piplyn wriggled out from under the arm and rose unsteadily to her feet, looking around.

Garlyn was awake. She saw that immediately, and smiled, walking over to him. It was hard to walk in the nursery when it was so crowded, like it was now. There were ten younglings in the den right now, as well as four mothers. The place was hideously crowded.

"Come and play with me, Garlyn," Piplyn whispered as she approached him. She got down on all fours and put her face right up close to his, where he was lying on his back.

"It's early," Garlyn told her. "No one else is awake yet."

Piplyn glanced behind her, at where her mother still lay on her bed of furs. Her two younger sisters, Ruslyn and Foxlyn, were curled up there too. They were too small to play with yet, and only had one summer each. Garlyn was five summers old, like Piplyn and Daisylyn. He was funny.

There were footfalls and low voices outside. The dawn patrol was returning. Piplyn jumped to her feet and wriggled her shoulders in excitement. "Come on, Garlyn," she begged. "I want to see if they've brought back any prey."

Garlyn sighed, but he rolled onto his front and used his arms to lever himself off the ground. The two of them picked their way across the crowded floor, over the tangled arms and legs of the other sleepers, to the nursery door. Neither youngling bothered to put on any clothes beyond the thin cotton skirts around their waists. It was too hot to bother with that.

Marlinik was standing on duty by the camp entrance, conversing with his son, Arnik. Rodnik and his apprentice Senrin were listening to the conversation, nodding now and again, but Piplyn's gaze was drawn immediately to the prey-cave. Raventor and Flightor were just heading inside, followed by their apprentices, Minren and Jaren, who were carrying the prey. Piplyn's eyes were drawn to the limp deer carcass slung over Minren's shoulders and her mouth watered. The deer was plump; there was always plentiful food for every animal in summertime. It was the time of green-leaf, when everything was fresh and wonderful. Piplyn grinned.

"Venison," she said to Garlyn. "I love it." She smacked her lips and rubbed her belly to illustrate.

"Jaren only has some measly rabbits and a maggoty bird," Garlyn pouted. He always looked on the worst side of everything.

"Who cares?" Piplyn responded. "The cave is well-stocked in green-leaf, you know it is."

Griprin dashed out of the apprentice's den and hurtled down the side-passage, towards the camp's waste spot. Garlyn snorted.

"Griprin's still scared he's going to wet the mat," he giggled. Griprin was the youngest apprentice, six summers old, and sometimes his youth was hard on him. Piplyn could remember when he'd lived in the nursery with her - he would always wee on the furs and make the whole place stink.

Sometimes she wished she could live in a smaller group of people - just her family, maybe, instead of the whole Clan. It could be a real pain to share such a small camp with so many others. She supposed that was why Eladar wanted to expand the walls and build more dens - but it was a slow process.

Jaren came out of the prey-cave and Garlyn dashed over to him, grabbing at his arm and babbling questions. Sometimes Garlyn was even more enthusiastic that her, Piplyn thought with amusement. He was going to be a hunter, that was why he asked. Piplyn would be a warrior at summer's end. This would be her sixth summer, and when it was over, she, Garlyn and Daisylyn would all be apprentices at last. It felt like they'd been waiting forever.

As the sun rose higher in the sky the camp gradually became more active. Eladar staggered out of the leader's den, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. His mate, Gennik, followed behind him. Tornore dashed from the medicine den and ran towards the warrior's den on his long, skinny legs. Even though he was seventeen summers old, and should have finished his apprenticeship long ago, Tornore wouldn't become a proper healer for another three cycles. Piplyn would hate to be the healer's apprentice. It took so long to learn everything!

Stonedru came sauntering over from the direction of the river, his head wet and his eyes bright. Piplyn bounced over to him and grabbed him around the knee.

"Can the younglings have a patrol today?" she asked, making her eyes big and round and her mouth pouty. "Pleeeeeeease?"

"It's too hot today," Stonedru told her. "No one wants to patrol today, so be grateful that you don't have to, Piplyn."

She sighed, but admitted defeat and released the deputy's leg. Tornore walked out of the warrior's den looking worried, spied Stonedru and hurried over to him.

"I need a couple of warriors to escort me," he said. "Hollyrin took a turn for the worse in the night and Robler wants me to go out and collect herbs."

Stonedru frowned. "Is she all right?" he asked, but Tornore only shrugged and made a sign that Stonedru should talk to the older healer. "Take Rainik," the deputy commanded, and then stepped off in the direction of the medicine den.

"I'll fetch Rainik!" Piplyn volunteered. Tornore glanced at her and the corner of his thin lips quirked up in a smile.

"Go on, then," he told her, giving her a little push in the direction of the warrior's den. Piplyn hurried to the door, then put her hand against it and pushed gently.

It was lighter in the warrior's den than the nursery, which made it easier to see who she was tripping over. She picked her way about cautiously, not wanting to wake any sleeping warriors. Some of them got very angry when they were woken - especially Marlinik, who she could see had come in here and curled up in a corner to rest after his watch last night. Rainik, her father, was sprawled on his back near the middle of the den. His mouth was wide open as he snored, so Piplyn crawled up on his chest and rubbed her hands over the scratchy stuff on his cheeks and chin. Piplyn looked like her father. His hair was black, like hers, and he had wide blue eyes, like she did. He even had the same little gap between his two front teeth when he smiled.

"Wake up, Daddy," Piplyn told him, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Why, do my eyes decieve me? Is this a mere mortal I see before me? Surely it must be a warrior of StarClan, come to dazzle me with her beauty." Piplyn giggled and kissed her silly daddy on the nose. Rainik sat up, so that she fell into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her in a big growly hug. Then he stood her upright and held her hands. "Did you have a message for me, Pip?"

Piplyn nodded. "Stonedru wants you to go get herbs with Tornore," she explained.

Rainik caught on quickly. "For Hollyrin?" he asked, and groaned softly when Piplyn nodded. "I'm worried about her."

Hollyrin was her daddy's apprentice, Piplyn knew. She was older than Piplyn - seven summers old, which meant she'd already been an apprentice for almost two whole years. That was old.

"Me too," Piplyn said, and she held Rainik's hand as he climbed to his feet and walked out of the warrior's den.

Rainik spoke a few quiet words to Tornore and then glanced down at his daughter. "Do you want to come with us and carry the basket, Pip?" he asked.

"Yes!" Piplyn squealed, bouncing on her toes. "I'll fetch it, hang on!" She dashed towards the prey-cave, where all the important tools were kept. The woven-grass basket was on a shelf with three others. She had to stand on her very tippy-toes to get it down, and when she was holding the handle tightly she ran from the cave.

A border patrol was leaving as Tornore led the way through the entrance tunnel. From high on Rainik's shoulders, Piplyn watched them turn west and jog out of sight. Her father turned east, following Tornore, who was heading upstream, towards the border where all the best herbs grew - the border with DeerClan territory.