prologue

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THEY TURNED AWAY from the harsh wind and sped through the grass toward Fourtrees. As he raced toward the clearing in the middle of the four great oaks where he had seen those fox-hearts. Seedpelt wondered grimly why Oakstar let them live in the first place.

The sun was high in the sky, and the clearing was crisscrossed with shafts of cold sunlight. He dug his paws into the soft ground and pushed on ahead of Deerdapple and Thrushtalon, his chest tightening with fear as he tore along the trail that led to the secret den that Mapleshade and Redriver always snuck inside of. Without hesitating, he ducked his head and raced through the lichen and vines.

"Mapleshade!" he yowled as she exploded into the den.

It was completely empty. Silence. No cat stirred, and the scent of cats was stale.


Red MapleOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora