The following morning, the air was sharp with cold wind. It was still leaf-fall, and the first snow should be far from falling, but doubts had begun to stir in the camp. There hadn't been an early leaf-bare for many seasons, but perhaps that would change this year.

Frecklesky shifted around in her soft nest, groaning in exhaustion as dawn light dappled her face. Waking up was her least favorite thing. She loved sleeping.

"Come on already, Frecklesky," Firewatcher meowed. "We need to patrol."

Frecklesky stuffed her nose deeper into the thistledown, mumbling incoherently. Firewatcher had warmed up to her again, though his voice was a little rougher than usual, with a slight distant look to his eyes whenever he spoke to her. But that didn't mean she would wake up for him.

Paws dug into her flank and dragged her only a whisker-length across her nest. She clawed feebly at the moss, "No, I don't want to go..."

"You have to. Get up." Firewatcher leaned down and nipped her ear, and she hissed, jerking her head around to glare at him.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," she snapped, pushing him away with a paw. Her ear stung slightly, and reluctantly, she rose to her paws, her ears brushing the roof of the den as she shook out her thick pelt, watching as tufts of thistledown and moss fell from her fur.

Firewatcher blinked in amusement before slipping away. A few cats who were still curled in their nests watched her through slitted gazes, and she shot a scowl at them in return. If I can't sleep, neither can you, she thought disdainfully.

She spent some time grooming her pelt. She lapped away loose scraps of old, dried mud, unwound thistledown and moss, and smoothed her pelt as best as she could. Once finished, she gave herself a brisk shake—showering any remains onto the still sleeping warriors—and padded to the den entrance. She ducked low to squeeze out of the entrance, her flanks tugging at the sedge before relinquishing its hold on her pelt and letting her free.

Her paws began to guide her to the fresh-kill pile, but a blue-gray tom darted in front of her, his lip peeled back in a snarl. "No, you took too long. You're not eating. We need to go." His breath billowed into her face, tasting of rat blood.

A growl rumbled in Frecklesky's chest as her scruff bristled. "I'm not listening to a rogue," she spat, shoving Dewfrost easily to the side.

The wiry tom bristled, scrambling to stay on his feet. "Rogue? I'm far more civilized than you, fox-breath. Look at yourself! You can't even get the mud out of your fur."

Frecklesky hissed, her hackles rising viciously as she took a quick step forward. Dewfrost stood his ground, but his tail tucked close to his side.

"Frecklesky, Dewfrost, for StarClan's sake, cut it out," Firewatcher growled. "Frecklesky, Dewfrost is right, now's not the time to eat. Chiveclaw and the others are already waiting for us."

Frecklesky turned to face her friend, who'd taken a stand beside his adopted brother. Her stomach growled angrily at her, but she swallowed her pride with a curl of her lip. "Okay, fine. But you owe me something to eat when we get back." She glared at the red tom, who nodded quickly in acceptance.

The three cats pushed out of camp, greeting Slugface, Chiveclaw, and Larkstar just outside the entrance. Larkstar took the lead, and they began padding through the marsh. There were very few insects, most having gone into dispause in premonition of the rapidly cooling season.

"ThunderClan has been testing the borders," Larkstar growled angrily, her tail slowly twitching back and forth.

Frecklesky grunted in acknowledgement. Lately, ThunderClan scent had been found over the edge of ShadowClan's border markers. The other day even, Silentmoon had reported a finding of squirrel blood mere tail-lengths from the border. They're clearly thinking of taking it back, she thought with a soft growl. We need to stop them before they do.

She shook out her fur to dismiss her musings and crouched on the edge of the thunderpath. Using the tunnels was spared exclusively for the darkness of night. ThunderClan was unaware of them, and Larkstar and the whole of their Clan intended to keep it that way.

There was nothing on either side of the path, and it took a few heartbeats until Larkstar finally shouted, "Go!"

The patrol raced across the hard asphalt, their paws beating against the ground in sync. Frecklesky fell behind her faster Clanmates, her flanks heaving for breath. The telltale roar of a monster split across the air, and she pelted faster as it bore down on her.

Her paws touched coarse grass and she reeled to a stop, panting as the monster whizzed by behind her. She glanced over her shoulders to see its sleek silver body, her fur buffeting in the sudden wall of wind.

Larkstar allowed the cats to catch their breath, her white ears angled to the depths of the forest.

"Let's get moving," she mewed after a few heartbeats, flicking her tail minutely.

Frecklesky shook the stiffness from her limbs and followed quietly into ThunderClan's forest. She still hated it there, even if part of it was now ShadowClan's territory. A few tail-lengths into the woods, they began marking their boundary, refreshing their swamp-like scent and overriding the woodsy flavor of ThunderClan, who had surpassed their boundary more than once, according to the tastes on the air.

Frecklesky's claws pricked against the ground as she slunk along, her green eyes sharply surveying the forest with the perceptual deafness from the bare, leafless canopy. Her gaze snapped ahead at the rustle of some underbrush.

A slim ginger she-cat padded out of the woods with a white and black apprentice, a silver tabby, and a pale ginger tom in tow. Her eyes sharpened at the sight of the ShadowClan warriors, and Frecklesky's lips curled back to reveal her teeth. It took all of her willpower to hold her ground under Larkstar's sharp glance.

The ThunderClan warriors were trespassing on ShadowClan's side of the scentline.