767 Quotes by Erin Hunter

The only fat cat in ThunderClan now was Leopardfoot, whose belly seemed to swell while the other cats grew thinner. Bluepaw watched the mottled warrior, dozing beside the nettle patch in the weak leaf-bare sunshine. Was she secretly eating prey while she hunted? How come she was so plump when every other cat was hollow with hunger? The.

Everything added up. Which cat could depend on Squirrelflight’s loyalty, knowing she would carry out the deception for moons and moons, even if it meant lying to her own mate? Which cat had always poured out love and concern around him and his littermates? Which cat could never admit that she had borne kits? Leafpool! Leafpool is our mother!

Keep your eye on the prey.

Tawnypelt pointed out. “I doubt they’d follow us. They must be quite stupid, or they wouldn’t let Twolegs on their backs.

Crowfeather might almost have thought that his son was dead, except for the faint rise and fall of his chest and the blood that was still trickling from his belly wound and many others.

Sandstorm pressed her flank to Firestar’s. “Bluestar was right. Fire did save the Clan.” “And now there are four Clans again,” Graystripe added. “Just as there should be.

I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be a squirrel any more. I’d rather be a bird!

All kits get fevers!” Sandpaw retorted. “With his thick fur, he’ll recover in no time. That coat’s going to be handy in leaf-bare, perfect for hunting in the snow. The prey’ll never see him coming, and he’ll be able to stay out twice as long as thin-pelts like Longtail!

Sandpaw, put that fire ant down. No, I don’t care that Firepaw might not know what it is.