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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 19, 2008 13:59:28 GMT -5
Allegiances
Thunderclan
Leader - Bluestar- blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle
Deputy - Redtail- small tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail Apprentice, Dustpaw
Medicine Cat - Spottedleaf- beautiful dark tortoiseshell she-cat with a distinctive dappled coat.
Warriors (toms, and she-cats without kits) - Lionheart: magnificent golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane. Apprentice,Graypaw - Tigerclaw: big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws. Apprentice, Ravenpaw - Whitestorm: big white tom Apprentice, Sandpaw - Darkstripe: sleek black-and-gray tabby tom - Longtail: pale tabby tom with dark black stripes - Runningwind: swift tabby tom - Willowpelt: very pale gary she-cat with unusual blue eyes. - Mousefur: small dusky brown she-cat
Apprentices ( more than six moons old, in training to become warriors) - Dustpaw: dark brown tabby tom - Graypaw: long-haired solid gary tom - Ravenpaw: Small, skinny black tom with a tiny white dash on his chest, and white tipped tail - Sandpaw: pale ginger she-cat - Firepaw: handsome ginger tom
Queens (she-cats expecting ornursing kits.) - Frostfur: beautiful whitecoat and blue eyes - Brindleface: pretty tabby - Goldenflower: pale ginger coat - Speckletail: pale tabby and teh oldest nursery queen
Elders (former warriors and queens, now retired) - Halftail: big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing - Smallear: gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in Thunderclan - Patchpelt: small balck-and-white tom - One-Eye: pale gray she-cat, the oldest cat in Thunderclan. Virtually blind and deaf. - Dappletail: once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dapled coat
Shadowclan
Leader - BrokenStar: long-haired dark brown tabby
Deputy -Blackfoot: large white tom with huge jet-black paws.
Medicine Cat - Runningnose: small gray-and-white tom
Warriors Stumpytail- brown tabby tom Apprentice, Brownpaw Boulder-silver tabby tom Apprentices, Wetpaw Clawface- battle-scarred brown tom Apprentices, Littlepaw Nightpelt-black tom
Queens Dawncloud-small tabby Brightflower-black-and-white she-cat
Elders Asfur-thin gray tom
Windclan
Leader Tallstar- a black-and-white tom witha very long tail.
Riverclan
Leader Crookedstar- a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw
Deputy Oakhaert- a reddish brown tom
Cats Outside Clans
Yellowfang - old dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face. Smudge- Plump, friendly blak-and-white kitten who lives in a house on the edge of the forest. Barley- black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest
Writtened by Erin Hunter
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 19, 2008 18:54:06 GMT -5
Prologue
A half-moon glowed on smooth granite boulders,turning them silver.The silence was broken only by the ripple of water from the swift black river and the whisper of trees in the forest beyond.
There was a stirring in the shadows, and from all around, lithe dark shapes crept steathly over the rocks. Unsheathed claws glinted in the moonlight. Wary eyes flashed like amber. And then, as if on a silent signal, the creatures leaped at each other, and suddenly the rocks were alive with wrestling, screeching cats.
At the center of the frenzy of fur and claws, a massive dark tabby pinned a bracken-colored tom to the ground and drew up his head triumphantly. "Oakheart!" the tabby growled."How dare you hunt in our territory? The Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan!"
"After tonight, Tigerclaw, This will be just another RiverClan hunting ground!" the bracken-colored tom spat back.
A warning yowl came from the shore, shrill and anxious."Look out! More RiverClan warriors are coming!"
Tigerclaw turned to see sleek wet bodies sliding out of the water below the rocks. The drenched RiverClan warriors bounded silently up teh shore and hurled themselves into battle withut even stopping to shake the water from there fur.
The dark tabby glared down at Oakheart. "You may swim like otters, but you and your warriors do not belong in this forest!" He drew back his lips and showed his teeth as the cat struggled beneath him.
The despreate scream of a Thunderclan she-cat rose above the clamor. A wiry Riverclan tom had pinned the brown warrior flat on her belly. Now he kunged toward her neck with kaws still dripping form his swim across the river.
Tigerclaw heard the cry and let go of Oakheart. With a mighty leap, he knocked the enemy warrior away from the she-cat. "Quick Mousefur, run!" he ordered, before turning on the RiverClan tom who has threatened her. Mousefur scrambled to her paws, wincing form a deep gash on her shoulder. and raced away.
Behind her, Tigerclaw spat with rage ad the RiverCan tom sliced open his nose. Blood blinded him for an instant, but he lunged forward regardless and sank his teeth into the hind leg of his enemy. The RiverClan cat squealed and struggled to get free.
"Tigerclaw!" The yowl came from a warrior with a tail as red asfox fur. "This is useless! There are too many RiverClan warriors!"
"No Redtail. Thunderclan will never be beaten!" Tigerclaw yowled back, leaping to Redtail's side. "This is our territory!" Blood was welling around his broad balck muzzle, and he shok his head impatiently, scattering scarlet drops onto the rocks.
"Thunderclan will honor your courage, Tigerclaw, but we cannot afford to lose any more of our warriors." Redtail urged. "Bluestar would never expect her warriors to fight against these impossible odds. We will have anotherchance to avenge this defeat." He met Tigerclaw's amber-eyed gaze steadily, then reared away and sprang onto a boulder at edge of the trees.
"Retreat, Thunderclan! Retreat!" He yowled. At once his warriors squirmed and struggled away from their opponets. Spitting and snarling,they backed toward Redtail. For a heartbeat, theRiverclan cats looked confused. Was this battle so easily won? Than Oakhaert yowled a jubliant cry. As soon as they heard him, the RiverClanwarriors raised their voices and joined their deputy in caterwauling their victory.
Redtail looked down at his warriors. With a flick of his tail, he gave the signal and the Thinderclan cats dived down the far side of the Sunningrocks, then disappered into the trees.
Tigerclaw followed last. Hehesitated at the edge oftheforestand glanced back at the bloodstained battlefield. His face was grim, his eyes furios slits. Then he leaped after his Clan into the silent forest.
In a deserted clearing, and old gray she-cat sat alone, staring up at the clear night sky. All around her in theshadows she could hear the breathing and stirrings of sleeping cats.
A small tortoiseshell she-cat emerged from a dark corner, her pawsteps quik and soundless.
The gray cat dippedher head in gretting. " How isMousefur?" she meowed.
"Her wounds are deep Bluestar." answered the tortoiseshell, settling herself on the night-cool grass. " But she is young and string she will heal quickly."
"And the others?"
"They will all recover, too."
Bluestar sighed. "We are lucky not to have lost any of our warriors this time. You are a gifted medicine cat, Spottedleaf." She tiltedher head again and studied the stars. "I am deeply troubled by tonight's defeat. Thunderclan has not been beaten in its own territory since i became leader,: she murmured"These are difficult times for our clan. The season of nweleaf is late. and there have been fewer kits. Thunderclan needs more warriors if it is to survive."
"But the year is only just beginning," Spottedleaf pointed out calmly. "There will be more kits when greenleaf comes."
The gray cat twitched her broad shoulders. "Perhaps. But training our young to become warriors takes time. If Thunderclan is to defend its territory, it must have new warriors as soon as possible."
"Are you asking Starclan for answers?" Meowed Spottedleaf gently, following Bluestar;s gaze ans staring up at the swath of stars glittering in the dark sky.
"It is at times like this need the words of ancient warriors to help us. Has StarClan spoken to you?" Bluestar asked.
"Not for some moons,Bluestar."
Suddenly a shooting star blazed over the treetops.Spottedleaf's tail twitched and the fur along her spine bristled.
Bluestar's ears pricked but she remained silent as Spottedleaf continued to gaze upward.
After a few moments, Spottedleaf lowered her head and turned to Bluestar. "It was a message from StarClan," She murmured. A distant look came into her eyes. "Fire alone can save our clan."
"Fire?" Bluestar echoed. "But fire is feared by all the clans! How can it save us?
Spottedleaf shook her head. "I do not know," she admitted. "But this is the message Starclan has chosen to share with me."
The Thunderclan leader fixed her clear blue eyes on the medicine cat. "You have never been wrong before, Spottedleaf."she meowed. "If StarClan has spoken, then it must be so. Fire will save our clan."
Written by Erin Hunter
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 20, 2008 19:45:20 GMT -5
Chapter 1
It was very dark. Rusty could sense something was near. The young tomcats's eyes opened wide as he scanned the dense undergrowth. This place was unfamilar, but the strage scents drew him onward, deeper into the shadows. His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger. He opened his jaws slightly to let the warm mells of the forest reach the scent glads on the roof of fim mouth. Musty ordors of leaf mold mingled with the temoting aroma of a small furry creature.
Suddenly a flash of gray raced past him. Rusty stopped still, listening. It was hiding in the leaves less than two tail-lenghts away. Rusty knew it was a mouse-- he could feel the rapid pulsing of a tiny hearty deep within his ear fur. He swallowed, stifling his rumbling somach. Soon his hunger would be satisfied.
Slowly he lowered his body into postintion, crouching for the attack. He was downwind of teh mouse. He knew it was not aware of him. Withone final; check on his prey's position, Rusty pushed back hard on his haunches and sprang , kicking up leaves in the forest floor as he rose.
The mouse dived for cover, heading toward a hole in the ground. But Rusty was already on top of it. He scooped it into the air, hooking the helpless creature with his thorn-sharp claws, flinging it up in a high arc onto the leaf-covered ground. The mouse landed dazed, but alive. It tried to run, but Rusty snatched it up again. He tossed the mouse once more, this time a little farther away. The mouse managed to scramble a few paces before Rusty caught up with it.
Suddenly a noise roared nearby. Rusty looked around, and as he did so the mouse was able to pull away from his claws. When Rusty turned back he saw it dart into the darlness among the tangled roots of a tree.
Angry, Rusty gave up the hunt. He spun around, his green eyes glaring, intent on searching out the noise that had cost him his kill. The sound rattled on, becoming more familiar. Rusty blinked open his eyes.
The forest had disappreared. He was inside a hot and sirles kitchen, curled in his bed. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting shadows on the smooth, hard floor. The noise had been the rattle of hard, dried pellets of food as they were tipped into his dish. Rusty had been dreaming.
Lifting his head, he rested his chin on the side of his bed. His collar rubbed uncomfortably around his neck. In his dream he had felt fresh air ruffling the soft fur where the collar usually pinched. Rusty rolled onto his back, savoring the dream for a few more moments. He could still smell mouse. It was the third tom since full moon that he'd had the dream, and every time the mouse had escaped his grasp.
He licked his lips. From his bed he could smell the bland odor of his food. His owners always refilled his dish before they went to bed. The dusty smell chased away the warm scents of his dream. But the hunger rumbled on in his stomach, so Rusty stretched the sleep out of his limbs and padded across teh kitchen floor to his dinner. The food felt dry and tasteless on his tongue. Rusty reluctantly swallower one more mouthful. Then he turned away from the fooddish and pushed his way out throught the cat flap, the hoping that the smell of the garden would bring back the fellings from his dream.
Outside, the moon was bright. it was raining lightly. Rusty stalked down the tidy garden, following the starlit gravel path, felling the stoned cold and sharp beneath his paws. He made his dirt beneath a large bush with glossy green leaves and heavy purple flowers. Their sickly sweet scent cloyed the damp air around him, and he curled his lip to drive the smell out of his nostrils.
Afterward, Rusty settled down on top of one of the posts in the fence that marked the limits of his graden. Itt was a favorite sopt of his, as he could see rigt into the neighbooring gardens as well as into the dense green forest on the other side of the garden fence.
The rain had stoppd. Behind him, the close-cropped lawn was bathed in moonlight, but beyond his fence the woods were full of shadows. Rusty stretched his head forward to take a sniff of the damp air. His skin was warm and dry inder his thick coat, but he could fell the weight of the rain drops taht sparled on his ginger fur.
He heard his owners giving him one last call from the back door . If he went to them now, they would grett him with gentle words and caresses and welcome him onto thier bed, where he would curl, purring, warm in the crook of a bent knee.
But this time Rusty ignored his owners.....
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 21, 2008 16:55:00 GMT -5
.....voices and turned his gaze back to the forest. the crisp smell of the woods had grown fresher after the rain.
Suddenly the fur on his spine prickled. Was something moving out there? Was something watching him? Rusty stared ahead, but it was impossible to see or smell anything in the dark, tree-scented air. He lifed his chin boldly, stood up, and stretched, onepaw gripping each corner of the fencepost as he straightened his legs and arched his back. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the woods once more. It seemed to promise him something tempting him onward into the whisperin shadow. Tensing him muscles, he crouched for a moment. Then he leaped lightly down into the rough grass on the other side of the garden fence. As he landed, the bell on his collar rang out through the still night hair.
"Where are you off to, Rusty?" meowed a familar voice behind him.
Rusty looked up. A young black-and-white cat was balancing ungracefully on the fence.
"Hello, Smudge,"Rusty replied.
"You're not going to go in the woods, are you?"Smudge's amber eyes were huge.
"Just for a look," Rusty promised, shifting uncomfortably.
"You woudn't get me out there. It's dangerous!" Smudge wrinkled his black nose with distaste. "Henry said he went into the woods once." The cat lifted his head and gestured with his node over the rows of fences toward the garden where henry lived
"That fat old tabby never went into the woods!" Risty scoffed."He's hardly been beyond his own garden since his trip to the vet. All he wants to do is eat and sleep."
"No, really. He caught a robin there!" Smudge insisted.
"Well, if he did, then it was before the vet. Now hecomplains about birds because they disturb his dozing."
"Well,anyway," Smudge went on, ignoring the scorn in Rusty's mew, "Henry told me there are all sorts of dagerous animals out there. Huge wildcats who eat live rabbit for breakfast and sharpen there claws on old bones!"
"I'm only going for a look around," Rusty meowed. "I won't stay long."
"Well, don't say i didn't warn you!" pureed Sumdge. The black-and-white cat turned and plunged off the fence bak down into his own garden.
Rusty sat down in the coarse grass beyond the arden fence. He gave his shoulder a nervous lick and wondered how much of Smudge's gossip was true.
Suddenly the movemen of a tiny creature caught his eye. He wathed it scuttle under some bramblems.
Instinct made him drop into a low crouch. With one slow paw after another he drew his body froward through the undergrowth. Ears pricked, nostrils flared, eyes unvlinking, he meowed toward the animal. He could see it cleary now, sitting up among the barbed branches, nibbling on a large seed held between it's paws. It was a mouse.
Rusty rocked his haunches from side to side, reparing to leap. He held his breath in case his bell rang again. excitement course through him, making his heart pound. Thsi was even better taht his dreams! Then a sudden noise of cracking twigs and crunching leaves made him jump. His bell jangled treacherously, and the mouse darted away into the thickest tangle of the bramble bush.
Rusty stood very still and looked around. He could see the white tip of a red bushy tail trailing through a clump of tall ferns up ahead. He smelled a string, stranges scent, definitely a meat-eater, but niether cat nor dog. Distracted, Rusty forgot about the mouse and watched the red tail curiously. He wanted a better look.
All of Rusty's senses strained ahead as he prowled forward. Then he detected another noise. It came from behind, but sounded muted and distant. He swiveled his ears backward to hear it better. Pawsteps? he wondered, but he kept his eyes fixes on the strange red fur up ahead, and cmtiuned to creep onward. It was only when the faint rustling behind him became a loud and fast-approuching leaf-crackle that Rusty realized he was in danger.
the creature hit him like an explosion and Rusty was thrown sideways into a clump of nettels. Twisting and yowling, he tried to throw off the attacker that had fastened itself to his back. It was gripping him with incredibly sharp claws. Rusty could feel spiked teeth pricking at his neck. He writhed and squrimed from whisker to tail, but he couldn'y free himself. For a second he felt helpless; then he froze. Thinking fast , he filpped over onto his back. He knew instinctively how dangerous it was to expose his soft belly. but it was his only chance.
he was lucky-- the ploy seemed to work. He heard a "hhuuffff" beneath him as the breath was knocked out of his attacker. Thrashing fiercely, Rusty managed to wriggle free. Without looking back he sprinted toward his home.
Behind him, a rush of pawsteps told Rusty his attacker was giving a chase. Even through the pain from his scratches stung beneah his fur. Rusty decied he would rather turn and fight than let himself be jumped on again.
He skidded to a stop, spun around, and faced his pursuer.
It was another kitten, with a thick coat of shaggy gray fur, strong legs, and a broasd face. In a heartbeat, Rusty smelledthat it was a tom, and sensed the power in the sturdy shoulders underneath the soft coat. The the kitten crashed into rusty at full pelt. Taken by surprise by Rusty's turn about, it felt back into a dazed heap.
The impact knocked the breath out of Rusty, and he staggered. He quickly found his footing and arched his back, puffing out his orange fur, ready to spring onto the other kitten. But his attacker simply sat up and began to lick a forepaw, all signs of aggression gone.
Rusty felt strangely diappointed. Every part of him was tense, ready for battle.
"Hi there, kittypet!" meowed the gray tom cheerily. "You put up quite a fight for a tame kitty!"
Rusty remained on tiptoe for a second, wondering whether to attack anyway. Then he remembered the streght he had felt in this kitten's paws when he had pinned him to the ground.. He dropped onto his pads, loosened his muscles, andlet his spine unbend. "And I'll fight you again if i have to," he growled.......
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Post by ღMossheartღ on Apr 21, 2008 21:06:03 GMT -5
"I'm Graypaw, by the way," the gray kitten went on, ignoring Rusty's threat. "I'm training to be a Thunderclan Warrior."
Rusty remained silent He didn't Understand what this Graywhatsit was meowing about, but he sensed the threat had passed. He hid his confusion by leaning down to lick his ruffled chest.
"What's a kittypet like you doing out in the woods? Don't you know it's dangerous?" asked Graypaw.
"If you're the most dangerous thing the woods had to offer, then I think I can handle it," Rusty bluffed.
Graypaw looked up at him for a moment, narrowing his big yellow eyes "Oh, I'm far from the most dangerous If I were even half a warrior, I'd have given an intruder like you some real wounds to think about."
Rusty felt a thrill of fears at these ominous words. What did this cat mean by "intruder"?
"Anyway," meowed Graypaw, using his sharp teeth to tug clumps of grass from between his claws, "I didn't think it was worth hurting you. You're obviously not from one of the other Clans."
"Other clans?" Rusty Echoed, confused.
Graypaw let out an impatient hiss. "You must have heard of the four warrior Clans that hunt around here! I belong to ThunderClan. The other Clans are always trying to steal pray from our territory, especially ShadowClan. They're so Fierce they would have ripped you to shreds, no questions asked."
Graypaw paused to spit angrily and continued: "They come to take prey that is rightfully ours. It's the job of the Thunderclan warriors to keep them out of out territory. When I've finished my training, I'll be so dangerous, I'll have the other Clans shaking in their flea-bitten skins. They won't dare come near us then!"
Rusty narrowed his eyes. This must be one of the wildcats Smudge had warned him about! Living rough in the woods, hunting and fighting each other for every last scrap of food. Yet Rusty didn't feel scared. In fact, it was hard not to admire this confident kitten. "So you're not a warrior yet?" he asked.
"Why? Did you think I was?" Graypaw purred proudly' then he shook his wide, furry head. "I won't be a real warrior for ages. I have to go through the training first. Kits have to be six moons old before the even being training. Tonight is my first night out as an apprentice."
"Why don't you find yourself an owner with a nice cozy house instead? Your life would be so much easier," Rusty meowed. "There are plenty of housefolk who'd take in a kitten like you. All you have to do is sit where they can see you and look hungry for a couple of days--"
"And they'd feed me pellets that look like rabbit droppings and soft slop!" Graypaw interrupted. "Now way! I can't think of anything worse then being a kittypet! They're nothing but Twoleg toys! Eating stuff that doesn't look like food, making dirt in a box of gravel, sticking their noses outside only when the Twolegs allow them? That's no life! Out here it's wild, and it's free. We come and go as we please." He finished his speech with a proud spit, then meowed mischievously, "Until you've tasted a fresh-killed mouse, you haven't lived. Have you ever tasted mouse?"
"No," Rusty admitted, a little defensively. "Not yet."
"I guess you'll never understand." Graypaw sighed. "You weren't born wild. It makes a big difference. You need to be born with warrior blood in your veins, or the feel of the wind in your whiskers. Kitties born into Twoleg nest could never feel the same way."
Rusty remembered the way he had felt in his dream. "That's not true!" he mewed indignantly.
Graypaw did not reply. He suddenly sniffed midlick, one paw still raised, and sniffed the air. "I smell cats from my Clan," he hissed. "You should go. The won't be pleased to find you hunting in out territory!"
Rusty looked around, wondering how Graypaw knew a cat was approaching. He couldn't smell anything different on the leaf-scented breeze. But his fur stood on end at the note of urgency in Graypaw's voice.
"Quick!" hissed Graypaw again. "Run!"
Rusty prepared to spring into the bushes, not knowing which way was safe to jump.
He was too late. A voice meowed behind him, firm and menacing. "What's going on here?"
Rusty turned to see a large gray she-cat strolling majestically out from the undergrowth. She was magnificent. White hairs streaked her muzzle, and an ugly scar parted the fur across her shoulders, but her smooth gray coat shone like silver in the moonlight.
"Bluestar!" Beside Rusty, Graypaw crouched down and narrowed his eyes. He crouched even lower when a second cat--A handsome, golden tabby--followed the gray cat into the clearing.
"You shouldn't be so near Twolegplace, Graypaw!" growled the golden tabby angrily, narrowing his green eyes.
"I know, Lionheart, I'm sorry." Graypaw looked down at his paws.
Rusty copied Graypaw and crouched low to the forest floor, his ears twitching nervously. These cats had an air of strength he had never seen in any of his garden friends. Maybe what Smudge had warned him about was true.
"Who is this?" asked the she-cat
Rusty flinched as she turned her gaze on him. Her piercing blue eyes made him feel even more vunerable.
"He's no thread," mewed Graypaw quickly "He's not another Clan warrior, just a Twoleg pet from beyond out territories."
Just a Twoleg pet! The words inflamed Tusty, but he held his tongue. The warning look in Bluestar's stare told him that she had observed the anger in his eyes, and he looked away.
"This is Bluestar; she's leader of my Clan!" Graypaw hissed to Rusty under his breath. "And Lionheart. He's my mentor, which means he's training me to be a warrior."
"Thank you for the introduction, Graypaw," meowed Lionheart coolly.
Bluestar was still staring at Rusty. "You fight well for a Twoleg pet," she meowed.
Rusty and Graypaw exchanged confused glances. How could she know?
"We have been watching you both," Bluestar went on, as if she had read their thoughts. "We wondered how you would deal with and intruder, Graypaw. You attacked him bravely."
Graypaw looked pleased at Bluestar's praise."
"Sit up now, both of you!" Bluestar looked at Rusty. "You too, kittypet." He sat up immediately and held Bluestar's gaze evenly as she addressed him.
"You reacted well to the attack, kittypet. Graypaw is stronger then you, but you used your wits to defent yourself. And you turned to face him when he chased you. I'ce not seen a kittypet do that before."
Rusty managed to nod his thanks, taken aback by such and unexpected praise. Her next words surprised him even more.
"I have been wondering how you would perform out here, beyond the Twolegplace. We patrol this border frequently, so I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, staring out into the forest. And now, at last, you have dared to place your paws here." Bluestar stared at Rusty thoughtfully. "You do seem to have a natural hunting ability. Sharp eyes. You would have caught that mouse if you had not heisted so long."
"R-really?" Rusty stammered.
Lionheart spoke now. His deep meow was respectful but insistent. "Bluestar, this is a kittypet. He should not be hunting in ThunderClan territory. Send him home to his Twolegs!"
Rusty prickled at Lionheart's dismissive words. "Send me home?" he mewed impatiently. Bluestar's words had made him glow with pride. She had noticed him; she had been impressed by him. "But I've only come here to hunt for a mouse of two. I’m sure there's enough to go around."
Bluestar had turned her head to acknowledge Lionheart's words. Now her gaze snapped back to Rusty. Her blue eyes were blazing with anger. "There's never enough to go around," she spat. "If you didn't live such a soft, overfed life, you would know that!"
Rusty was confused by Bluestar's sudden rage, but one glance at the horrified look on Graypaw's face was enough to tell him he that spoken too freely. Lionheart stepped to his leader's side. Both warriors loomed over him now. Rusty looked into Bluestar's threatening stare and his pride dissolved. These were not cozy fireside cats he was dealing with--They were mean, hungry cat who were probably going to finish what Graypaw had started.
Chapter 2
I do not Own the Warrior's Series, Erin Hunter does. In no way will I try to sell this or use this at my own. This is for fun and for people who can't get the books from other places. Thank you.
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 22, 2008 16:39:57 GMT -5
( thanks mossy )
"Well?" hissed Bluestar, he face only a mouse-lenght from his now. Lionheart remained silent as he towered over Rusty.
He flattened his ears and crouched under teh golden warrior's cold stare. His fur prickled uncomfortably. "I am no threat to your clan," he meowed, looking down at his trembling paws.
"You threaten our clan when you take our food," yowled Bluestar. "You have pleanty of food in you Twoleg nest already. You come here onlt to hunt for sport. But we hunt to survive."
the truth of the warrior queen's words pierced Rusty like a blackthorn, and suddenly he understood her anger. He stopped trembling, sat up, and straightened his ears. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I had not thought of it that way before. I am sorry." he meowed solemnly. " I will not hunt here again."
Bluestar let her hackles fall and signaled to Lionheart to step back. " You are an unusual kittypet, Rusty," she meowed
Graypaw's sigh of relieef made Rusty's ears twitch. He heard the approval in Bluestar's voice and noticed as she swapped a meaningful glance with Lionheart. The look made him curious. what flashed between the two warriors? Queitly he asked, "Is survival here really so hard?"
"Our territory covers only part of the forest." answered Bluestar. "We compete with other Clans for what we have. And this year, late newleaf means prey is scarce."
"Is you clan very big?" Rusty meowed, his eyes wide.
"Big enough," replied Bluestar. "Our territory can support us, but there is no prey left over."
"are you all warriors, then?" Rusty meowed. Bluestar's guarded answers were just making him more and more curious.
Lionheart answered him. "Something are warriors. Some are too young or too old busy caring for kits to hunt."
"And you all live and share prey together?" Rusty murmured in awe, thinking a little guiltiy of his own easy, shelfish life.
Bluestar looked again at Lionheart. The golden tabby stared back at her steadily. At last she returned her gaze to Rusty and meowed, "Perhaps you shoudl find out these things for yourself. Would you like to join Thunderclan?"
Rusty was so surprised, he couldn't speak.
Bluestar went on: " If you did, you would train with Graypaw to become a warriors."
"But kittypets can't be warriors!" Graypaw blurted out "They don't have warrior blood!"
A sad look clouded Bluestar's eyes. "Warrior blood," she echoed with a sigh. "Too much of that has been spilled lately."
Bluestar fell silent and Lionheart meowed, "Bluestar is only offering you training, young kit. There is no guarantee you would become a ful warrior. It might prove too difficult fo you. After all, you are used to a comfortable life."
Rusty was stung by Lionheart's words. He swun his head around to face teh golden tabby. "Why offer me teh chance then?"
But it was Bluestar who answered. " you are right to question out motives, young ne. The fact is, Thunderclan needs more warriors."
"Understand that Bluestar does not make this ofer lightly," warned Lionheart. "Ifr you wish to train with us, we will have to take you into our clan. You must eitherlive with us and respect our ways, or return to you Twolegplace and never come back. You cannot live with a paw in each world."
A cool breeze stirred the undergrowth, ruffling Rusty's fur. he shivered, not with teh cold, but with excitment at the incredible possibilities opening up in front of him.
"Are you wondering if it's worth giving up your comfortable kittypet life?" asked Bluestar gently. " But do you realize the price you will pay for warmth and food?"
Rusty looked at her, puzzled. Surely his encounter with these cats had proved to him just how easy and luxurious his life was.
"I can tell you that you are stil a tom," Bluestar added, "despite the Twoleg stench taht clings to your fur."
"What do you mean --still a tom?"
"You haven't been taken by towlegs to see the Cutter," meowed Bluestar gravely, "You would be veryy diffrent then. Not quiet so keen to fight a clan cat, I suspect!"
Rusty was confused. he suddenly thought of Henry, who had become fat and lazy since his visit to teh vet. Was that what Bluestar meant by the Cutter?
"This Clan may not be able to affer you such easy food or warmth," continued Bluestar. "In the season of leaf-bare, nights in the forest can be cruel. The clan will demand great loyalty and hard work. You wil be expected to protect the clan with your life if necessary. And there are many mouths to feed. But the rewards are great. You will remain a tom. You will be trained in the ways of the wild. You will learn what it is to be a real cat. The strength and the fellowship of the clan will always be with you, even when you hunt alone."
Rusty's head reeled. Bluestar semed to be offering him the life he had lived so many times, and so tantalizinly, in his dreams, but could he live like taht for real?
Lionheart interrupted his thoughts. "Come, Bluestar, let's not waste anymore tome here. We must be ready to join the other patrol at moonhigh. Tigerclaw will wonder what has become of us." He stood up and flicked his tail expectantly.
"Wait," Rusty meowed, "Can i think about your offer?"
Bluestar murmured a low signal, and in a single movement the three cats turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Rusty blinked. He stared -- excited, uncertain--up past the ferns that encircled him, through the canopy of leaves, to the stars that glittered in teh clear sky. The scent of the clan cats still hung heavy in the evening air. And as Rusty turned and headed for home, he felt a strange sensation inside him, tugging him back into he depths of the forest. His fur pirckled delicously in the light wind, and the rustling leaves seemed to whisper his name into the shadows.
Writtened by:Erin Hunter
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Apr 23, 2008 16:14:03 GMT -5
Chapter 3
That Morning, as Rusty slept off his night's wandering the mouse dream came again, even more vivid than before. Free of his colar, beneath the moon, he stalked the timid creature. But this time he was aware of being wached. Shining from the shadows of the forest he saw dozens of yellow eyes. The clan cats had entered his dream worlds.
Rusty woke, blinking in the bright sunshine hat was streaming across the kitchen floor. His fur felt heavy and thick with warmth. His food bowl had been topped up, and his water bowl rinsed out and filled with bitter-tasting Twoleg water. Rusty perferred drinking frm puddles outside, but when it was hot, or he was very thirsty, he had to admit it was easie to lap up the water indoors. Could he really abandon this comfortable life?
He ate, then pushed his way out of he cat flap into the garden. The day promised to be warm, and the harden was heavy wih the smell of early blossoms.
"Hello, Rusty!" mewed a voice from the fence. It was Smudge. "You should have been awake and hour ago. The baby sparrows were out streching their wings."
"Did you catch any?" Rusty asked.
Smudge yawned and licked his nose. " Couldn't be bothered. I'd already eaten enough at home. Anyway why weren't you out earlier? Yesterday you were complaining about Henry sleeping his time away, and today you're not much better yourself."
Rusty sat down on the cool earth beside the fence and curled his tail neatly over his front paws. "I was in the woods last night," he reminded his friend. At once he felt the blod stir in his veins and his fur stiifen.
Smudge loked down at him, his eyes wide. "Oh, yes, I forgot! How was it? Did you catch anything? Or did anything catch you?"
Rusty paused, not sure how to tell his old friend what had happened. "I met some wild cas," he began
"What!" Smudge was clearly shocked. "Did you get into a fight?"
"Sort of." Rusty could fell th energy suring through his body again as he recalled the strength and power of the clan ats.
"Were you hurt? What happened?" Smudge prompted him eagerly
"There were three of them. Bigger stronger than any of us."
"And you fought all three of them! Smudge interrupted, his tail twitching with excitment.
"No!" Rusty mewed hastily. "Just the youngest one; the other two came later."
"How come they didn't shred you to pieces?"
"They just warned me to leave their territory. But then..."Rusty hesitated
"What!" mewed Smudge impatiently.
"They asked me to join their clan."
Smudge's whiskers quivered disbelievingly.
"They did!" Rusty insisted
"Why would they do that?"
"I don't know," Rusty asmitted. "I think they need extras paws in their clan."
"Sounds a bit odd to me, " Smudge mewes doubtfully. "I woudn't trust them if i were you."
"Rusty looked at smudge. His blac-andwhite friends had never shown any intrest in venturing into the woods. He was perfectly contenty living with his house folk. He would never understand the restless longing that Rusty's dreams stirred in hom noght after night.
"But I do trust them" Rusty purred softly. "And i've made up my mind. Im going to join them."......
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Post by Ivypaw-Admin on May 3, 2008 6:23:46 GMT -5
Please continue. I would myself, if I had the book...
- Ivypaw
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Jul 2, 2008 13:29:07 GMT -5
Sorry i haven't posted
...Smudge scrambled down from the fence and stood in front of Rusty."Please don't go, Rust,"He mewes in alarm.Ï"might never see you again."
Rusty nudged him affectionately with his head, "Don't worry. My housefolk will get another cat. You'll get onwith him fine.YOU get along with everyone!"
"But it won't be the same!"Smudge wailed.
Rusty twitched his tail impatiently."That's just teh point. If I stay around here till they take me to the cutter, I won't be the same either."
Smudge looked puzzled. "The Cutter?"he echoed
"The vet,"Rusty explained. "To be altered, like henry was."
Smudge shruged and stared down at his paws"But henry's alright,"He mumbled"I mean, I know he's a bit lazier now, but he's not unhappy. We could still have fun."
Rusty felt his heary fill with sadness at teh thought of leaving his friend. Ï'm sorry, Smudge. I'll miss you, but I hae to go."
Smudge didn't reply, but he stepped forward and gently touched Rusty's nose with his own. "Fair enough. I can see I can't stop you, but at least lets spend one more morning together."
Rusty found himselfenjoying the morningeven more that usual, visiting his old haunts with smudge, sharing words with the cats he gad grown up with. Every one of senses felt supercharged, as if he were poised before a huge jump. As sunhigh approached, Rusty grew more and more impatient to see if Lionheart would really be waiting for him. The idle buzz of meows from his old friends seemed to fade into the background as all his senses strained toward the woods.
Rusty jumped down from his garden fence for the last time and crept into the woods. He had said his good-byes to Smudge. Now all histhoughts were focused on the forestand teh cats who lived in it.
As he approched the spot where he had met with the clan cats the night before, he sat down ans tasted the air. Tall trees shielded the ground from the midday sunshine. making it comfortably cool. Here and there a patch of sunlight shone through a gap in the eaves and lit up the forest floor. Rusty could smell the same cat-scent as last night, but he had no idea whether it was old or new. He lifted his head and sniffed uncertainly,
"You have a lot o learn."meowed a deep voice. Ëven a the tiniest clan kit knows when another cat is nerby."
Rusty saw a pair of green eyes glinting from beneath a bramble bush. Now he recognized teh scent it was Lionheart.
"Can you tell if i am alone?"asked the golden tabby, stepping into the light.
Hastily, Rusty sniffed again. The scents of Bluestar and Graypaw were still there, but not as strong as teh previos night. Hesitantly, he mewed , "Bluestar and GRaypaw aren't with you this time."
"That's right,"meowed lionheart."but someone else is"
Rusty stiffened as a second Clan cat strode into the clearing.
"This is Whitestorm,"purred Lionheart. Öne of Thunderclans's senior warriors."
Rusty looked at the tom and felt his spine tingle with cold fear. "Was this a trap? Long-bodied and musular. Whitestorm stood in front of rusty an gaxed down on him. His white coat was thick and unmarked and his eyes were yellow of sunbaked sand. Rusty flattened his ears warily, and tensed his muscles in preparation for a fight......
Written by Erin hunter
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Jul 3, 2008 12:11:04 GMT -5
"Relax, before your fear-scent brings unwanted attention," growled Lionheart. "We are here only to take you to our camp."
Rusty sat very still, hardly daring to breathe, as Whitestorm stretched his nose forward and gave him a curious sniff.
"Hello, young one," murmured the white cat. " I have heard a lot about you."
Rusty dipped his head in greeting
"Come, we can speak more oncewe are in camp." ordered Lionheart, and, without pausing, he and Whitestorm leaped away into the undergrwoth. Rusty jumped to his paws and followed as quickly as he could.
The two warriors made no allowences fro Rusty as they sped through the forest, and before long he was struggling to keep up. Their pace barely slowed as they led him over fallen trees that they cleared in a single leap, but which Rusty had to scramble over paw by paw. Thay passed through sharply fragrant pine trees, where they had to jump across depp gullies chrunesd up by a Twoleg tree-eater. From the safety of his garden fence, Rusty had often heard it roaring and snarling in the distance. One gully was too wide to jump, half filled with slimy, foul-smelling wwater. The Clan cats waded through without hesitating.
Rusty had never put a paw in water before. But he was determined not to show any sings of weekness, so he narrowed his eyes and followed, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness that soaked his belly fur.
At last Lionheart and Whitestorm paused. Rusty skidded to a halt behind them andstood panting while the two warriors stepped onto a rock taht rested on the edge of a small ravine.
"We are very close to our camp now," meowed Lionheart
Rusty strained to see any signs of life -- moving leaves, a glimpse of fur among the bushes below, but his eyes saw nothing except the same undergrowth that covered the rest of the forest floor.
"Use your nose. You must be able t scent it," hissed Whitestorm impatiently.
Rusty closed his eyes and sniffed. Whitestorm was right. The scents here were very diffrent from the cat-scent he was uds to. The air smelled stronger, speaking of many, many diffrent cats.
He nodded thoughtfully and announced, "I can smell cats."
Lionheart and Whitestorm exchanged amused looks.
"There wll come a time, if you are accepted into the Clan, when you will know each cat-scent by name," Lionheart meowed. "Follow me!" He led the way nimbly down the boulders to the bottom of the ravine, and pushed his way through a thick patch of gorse. Rusty followed, and Whitestorm took up the rear. As his sides scraped against the prickly gorse, Rusty flattened into a broad, strong-smelling track. This must be the main entrance into the camp, he thought.
Rusty looked around, his eyes wide. There were cats everywhere, sitting alone or in groups, sharing food or purring quietly at the groomed one another.
"Just after sunhigh, when the day is hottest, is a tome for sharing tongues," Lionheart explained,
"Sharing tongues?" Rusty echoed.
"Clan cats always spend time grooming each other and sharing the news of the day," Whitestormtold him. "We call it sharing tongues. It is a custome that binds the members of teh Clan together."
The cats had obviously smelled Rusty's foriegn scent, for heads began to turn and stare curiously in hsi direction.
Suddenly shy of metting any cat;s gaze directly, Rusty looked around the clearing. It was edged with thick grass, dotted with treestumps and a fallen tree. A thick curtain of ferns and gorse shielded the camp from the rest of the woods.
"Over there," meowed Lionheart, flicking his tail toward an impenetrable-looking tangle of brambles. "is teh nursery, where the kits are cared for,"
Rusty swiveled his ears toward the bushes. He couldn't see through the knot of prickly branhes, but he could hear the mewling of severalkittens from somewhere inside. As he watched, a ginger she-cat squirmed out through a small gap in the front. That must be one of the queens, Rusty thought.
A tabby queen with distinctive black markings appeared around the bramblebush. The two she-cats exchanged a friendly lick between the ears before the tabby slipped inside the nursery, murmuring to the squealing kits.
"The care of our kits is shared by all of the queens," meowed LIonheart. "All cat serve the clan. Loyalty to teh clan is teh forst law in our warrior code, a lesson you must learn quickly if you wish to stay with us.
"Here come Bluestar," meowed Whitestorm, sniffing the air.
Rusty niffed the air too, and was pleased that he was ableto recognize the scent of the gray she-cat a moment before she appeared from the shadow of a large boulder that lay beside them at the head of the clearing.
"He came, " Bluestar purred, addressing the warriors.
Whitestorm replied, "Lionheart was convinced he would not."
Rusty noticed the tip of Bluestar's tail twitched impatiently."Well, what do you think of hm?" she asked.
"He kept up well on the return journey, despite his puny size," Whitestorm admitted. "He certainly seems storng for a kittypet."
"So it is agreed?"Bluestar looked at Lionheart and Whitestorm.
Both cats nodded
"Than I shall announce his arrival to the Clan."Bluestar leaped up onto the boulder and yowled, "Leta ll those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting."
Her clear call brought all the cats trotting toward her. emerging like liquid shadows from the edged of teh clearing. Rusty stayed where he was, flanked by Lionhear and Whitestorm. The other cats settled themselves below the Highrock and looked expectantly up at their leader.
Rusty felt a rush of relief as he recognized Graypaw's thick gray fur among the cats. Beside his sat a young tortoiseshell queen, her black-topped tail tucked neatly over small white paws. A large dark gray tabby crouched behind them, the black stripes on his fur lookig like shadows on a moonlit forest floor.
When the cats were still. Bluestar spoke, "Thunderclan needs more warriors,"she began.' "Never before have we ahd so few apprenticed in training. It has been decided that Thunderclan wll take in an outsider to train as a warrior....."
Rusty heard indignant mutterings erupt among the Clan cats, but Bluestar silenced them with a frim yowl. "I have found a cat who is willing to become an apprentice of Thunderclan."
"Lucky to become an apprentice,"caterwauled a loud voice above the ripple of shock that spread through the cats.
Rusty craned his neck and saw a pale tabby cat standing up and glaring defiantly at the leader.
Bluestar ignored the tabby and addressed all of her Clan. "Lionheart and Whitestorm have met this young cat, and they agree with me that we should train him with the other apprentices."
Rusty looked up at Lionheart, then back at teh Clan, to find all eyes were on him now. HIs fur prickled and he swallowed nervously. There was silence for a moment. Rusty was sure they must all be able to hear his heart pulsing and smell his fear-scent.
Now a deafening crescend of caterwauling rose from the crowd.
"Where does he come from?" "Which clan does e belong to?" "What a strange scent he carries! That's not the scent of any clan I know!"
Then one yowl in particular sounded ou above the rest."Look at his collar! He's a kittypet!"" It was the pale tabby again.Önce a kittypet, always a kittypet. This clan needs wildborn warriors to defend it, not another soft mouth to feed."
Lionheart bent down and hissed in Rusty's ear, "That tabby is Longtail. He smells you fear. They all do. YOU must prove to him and the other cats that your fear will not hold you back."
But Rusty couldn't move. How could he ever prove to these firece cats taht he wasn't just a kittypet?
The tabby continued to jeer at him. "Your collar is a mark of teh twolegs, and that noisy jingling will male you a poor hunter at best. At worst, it will bring the Twolegs into out terriotory, looking for the poor lost kittypet who fills the woods with his pitiful tinkling."
All the cats howled in agreement.
Longtail went on, well aware that he had the support of his audience. "The noise of your trecherous bell will alert our enemies, even if your Twoleg stench doesn't!"
Lionheart hissed into Rusty's ear once more: "Do you back down from a challenge?"...........
Written By; Erin Hunter
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Jul 5, 2008 15:43:38 GMT -5
Rusty still not move, but this time he was trying to pinpoint Longtail's position. There he was, just behind a dusky brown queen. Rusty flattened his ears, narrowed his eyes and, hissing, leaped through the starled cats to fling himself onto tormentor.
Longtail was completely unprepared for Rusty's attack. He stahhered sideways, losing his foting on the har-baked earth. Filled witgh rage and desperate to prove himself, Rusty dug his clwas deep into the tabby cat's fur and sank his teeth, N stuble rituals of aswiping and boxing preceded this fight. The two cats were locked in a screaming, writhing tussle that flipped and somersaulted around the clearing ath the heart of the camp. The other cats had to spring out of the way to aviod the screeching whirlwind of fur.
As Rusty scratched and struggled, he was suddenly aware that he felt no fear, only exhilaration, Through the roaring of the blood in his ears, he could hear he cats around them wailing with excitment.
Then Rusty felt his collar tighten around his neck. Longtail had gripped in between his teeth and was tugging, and tugging hard. Rusty felt terrible pressure at his throat. Unable to breathe, he started to panic. He writhedand twised, but each movement only made the pressure worse. Retching and gulping for air. LOngtail's grip. And suddenly, with a loud snap, he was free.
Longtail tumbled away from him. Rusty was scrabled to his paws and looked around. Longtail's mouth, Rusty saw his collar, magled and broken.
At once, Bluestar leaped down from teh Highrock and silenced the noisy crowd with a thunderous caterwaul. Rusty and Longtail remained fixed to the spot, gasping for breath. Clumps of fur hung from their ruffled coats. Rusty could fell a cut stinging above his eye. Longtail's left ear was badly torn, and blood dripped down his lean shoulders onto the dusty ground. They stared at each other, their hostility not yet spent.
Bluestar stepped froward and took the collar from longtail. She placed it on the ground in front of her and meowed,"The newcomer has lost his Twoleg collar in battle for his honor. Starclan has spoken its approval--this can has been released from the hold on his Twolegs owners, and is free to join ThunderClan as an apprentice."
Rusty looked at Bluestar and solemnly nodded his acceptance. He stood up and stepped forward into a shaft of sunshine, welcoming the warmth on hsi sore muscles. The pool of light blazed his bright on his orange pelt, making his fur glow. Rusty lifted hi head proudltand looked at the cats that surrounded him. The time no cat argued or jeered. He had shown himself to be worthy opponent in battle.
Bluestar approached Rusty and placed teh shredded collar on the ground in front of him. She touched his ears gently with her nose. "You look like a brand of fire in this sunlight," she murmured. Her eyes flashed briefly as, if her words had more meaning for her than Rusty knew. " You have faught well." Then she turned to the Clan and announced, "From the day forward, untill he has earnedhis warriors name, this apprentice will be called Firepaw, in honor of his flame-colored coat."
She stepped back and, with teh other cats. waited silently for hsi next move. Without hesitating, Rusty turned and kicked dust and grass over his collarad though burying his dirt.
Longtail growled and limped out of teh clearing toward a fern-shaded corner. The cats spilt into groups, murmuring to each other exciredly.
"Hey, Firepaw!"
Rusty heard Graypaw's friendly voice behind him, Firepaw! A thrill of pride surged through hima t the sound of his new name. He turned to greet the gray apprentice with a welcoming sniff.
"Great fight, Firepaw!" mewed Graypaw. " Especiall for a kittypet! Longtail is awarriors, although he only finished his training two mooons ago. That scar you left on his ear won't let him forget you in hurry. You've spolied his good looks, that's for sure."
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Jul 8, 2008 13:07:09 GMT -5
"Thanks, Graypaw," Firesztar replied. " He put up quite a fight though!" He licked hsi front paw and began to wipe clan the deep scratch tha stung above hi eye. As he washed he heard his new name again, achoing among the meows of cats.
"Firepaw!" "Hey, Firepaw!" "Welcome, young Firepaw!" Firepaw closed his eyes for a moment and let the voices wash over him.
"Good name, too!" Graypaw mewed approvingly, jolting him awake.
Firepaw looked around. "Where did Longtail creep off to?"
"I think he ws heading toward Spottedleaf's den." Graypaw tipped his head toward the fern-enclosed corner Longtail had disappeared into. "She's our medicine cat. NOt bad-looking either. Younger and a lot prettier than most--"
A low yowl next to the two cats stopped Graypaw midspeech. They both turned, and Firepaw recongnized the powerful gray tabby cat who had sat behind Graypaw earlier.
"Darkstripe,"mewed Graypaw, dipping his head respectfully.
The sleek tom looked at Firepaw for a moment. "Lucky your collar snapped when it did. Longtail is a young warrior, but I can't imagine hime being neaten by a kittypet!" He spat the word kittypet scornfully, then turned and stalked off.
""Now Darkstripe,"Graypaw hissed to FIrepaw under his breath, ïs niether young, nor pretty...."
Firepaw was about to agree with his new friend when he was interrupted by a warning yowl from an old gray cat sitting at teh edge of the clearing.
"Smallear smells trouble!"Graypaw meowed, immediately alert.
Firepaw barely had time to look around before a young cat crashed through the bushes and into the camp. He was skinny and --apart from the white tip of his long, thin tail -- jet black from head to toe.
Graypaw gaspoed "That's Ravenpaw! Why is he alone? Where's Tigerclaw?"
Firepaw looked a Ravenpaw staggering across the floor of teh clearing. He was panting heavily . His coat was ruffled and dusty, and his eyes were wild with fear.
"Who are Ravenpaw and Tigerclaw?"Firepaw whisper Graypaw, as several other cats raced past his to greet the new arrival.
"Ravenpaw's an apprentice. Tigerclaw's his mentor," Graypaw explained quickly. "Ravenpaw went out with Tigerclaw and REdtail at sunruise on a mission against Rierclan, the lucky furball!"
"Redatil?"Firepaw echoed, throughly confused by all these names.
"Bluestar's deputy,"hissed graypaw "but why on eath hashe come back alone?"he added to himself. He lifted his head to listen as Bluestar steped forward.
"Ravenpaw?"The she-cat spoke calmly, but a look of worry clouded her blue eyes. The other cats drew back, curling their lips with anxiety.
"What happened? "BLuestar jumped onto the HIghrockandlooked down at teh trembling cat. "Speak, Ravenpaw!"
Ravenpaw awas still struggling for breath, and his sides heaved fitfully while the dust around him turned redwith blood, but stil managed to scramble up onto the highrock and standbesdie Bluestar. He turned to the crowd of eager faces taht surrounded him , and summoned enough breath to declare, "Redtail is dead!"
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Aug 10, 2008 12:20:35 GMT -5
CHAPTER 4
Shocked yowls rose from the Clan cats and achoed through the forest.
Ravenpaw staggered slightly. His right foreleg glistened, wet with blood that flowed from the deep gash on his shoulder."We m-met five RiverClan warriors besides the stream, not far from the Sunningrocks," he went on shakily."Oakheart was among them."
"Oakheart!" Graypaw gasped besides Firepaw. "He is the deputy of RiverClan. He's one of the greatest warriors in the forest. Lucky Ravenpaw! Wish it could have been me. I'd have really--"Graypaw was silenced by a fierce glance from old gray tome who had first sensed Ravenpaw's return
Firepaw turned his attention back to ravenpaw.
"Redtail warned Oakheart to keep his hunting parties out of Thunderclan territory. He said the next Riverclan warrior to be caught in Thunderlcan territory would be killed, but Oak. . . Oakheart would not back down. He said his Cl-Clan had to be fed, Whatever we threatened. "Ravenpae paused to wheeze for breath. HIs wound was still bleeding heavily, and he stood awkwardly to keep the weight off his shoulder.
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Aug 10, 2008 13:16:00 GMT -5
"That's when the Riverclan cats attacked. It was hard to see what was happening. The fighting was vicious. I saw Oakheart had Redtail pinned to the ground, but then redtail . . ." Suddenly Ravenpaws eyes rolled in his head and he lurched sideways. Half scrambling, half falling, he slithered off the Highrock and collapsed on the ground below.
A ginger queen bounded toward him and crouched at his side. She licked his cheek briefly and called out "Spottedleaf!"
Out of the fern-shaded corner trotted the pretty tortoiseshell Firepaw had noticed sitting besides Graypaw earlier. She hurried over to Ravenpaw and mewes for the queen to stand back. Then she used her small pink nose to roll the apprentice over so that she could take a good look at the wound. She glanced up and meowed."It's all right, Goldenflower, his wounds aren't fatal, bu I'll need to fetch some cobwebs to stop the bleeding."
As spottedleaf sprinted back to her den, the hushed silence in the clearing was broken by a mournful howl. All eyes turned to the direction it had come from.
A massive dark brown tabby staggered through the gorse tunnel. Between his sharp of another cat. He dragged the tattered creature into the center of the clearing.
Firepaw craned his neck and glimpsed a flash of bright ginger tail hanging limply in the dust.
Shock rippled through the Clan like a chill breeze. Besides Firepaw, Graypaw dropped into a crouch as grief swept over him"Redtail!"
"How did this happen, Tigerclaw? demanded Bluestar from her position on the highrock.
TIgerclaw let the scruff of Redtail's neck fall from his mouth . He looked steadily back at bluestar. "He died with honor struck down by Oakheart. I couldn't save him, but I managed to take Oakheart's life while he was still gloating over his victory."Tigerclaws voice was strong and deep."Redtails death was not in vain, for I doubt we'll see Riverclan hunters in our territory again."
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Post by .:Mooncloud:. on Aug 15, 2008 14:24:07 GMT -5
Firepaw glanced at Graypaw. The apprentice's eyes were dark with sadness.
After moment's pause several of the cats moved forward to lick Redtails bedraggled fur. As they groomed they purred hushed phrases to the dead warrior.
Firepaw whispered into graypaw's ear, "What are they doing?"
Graypaw didn't take his eyes off the dead cat as he replied "His spirit may have left to join StarClan, but the Clan will share tongues with redtail one last time."
"Starclan?" Firepaw echoed
"It's the tribe of the heavenly warriors that watched over all Clan cats. You can see them in the Silverpelt."
Firepaw looked confused, so Graypaw explained "Silverpelt is that thick of stars you see each night stretching across the sky. Each star is a Starclan warrior. Redtail will be among them tonight."
Firepaw nodded, and Graypaw stepped forward to share tongues with his dead deputy.
Bluestar has remained silent while the first cats came to pay their respects to Redtail. Now she leaped down from the Highrock and walked slowly toward Redtail's body The others cats retreated and watched their leader crouched down to share tongues with her old comrade one last time.
When she had finished she raised he head and spoke. He voice was low and thick with grief, and the Clan listened in silence"Redtail was a brave warrior. Hos loyalty to ThunderClan could never be doubted. I always relied on his judgement, for it bore witness to needs of the clan, and was never swayed by self interest on pride. He would have made a fine leader.
Then she lowered herself onto her belly her head bowed, her paws stretched neatly before her, and silently she grieved for her lost friend. Several other cats came and lay down beside her, their bowed heads and hunched back echoing her mournful pose.
Firepaw watched. He had not known redtail, but he couldn't help feeling moved as he witnessed the Clan mourn.
Graypaw came and stood beside him again. " Dustpaw will be sad." he remarked.
"Dustpaw?"
"Redtail's apprentice. That brown -striped tabby over there. I wonder who his mentor will be?"
Firepaw glanced over at the small tom who squatted near Redtail's body, staring unseeing at the ground. Firepaw looked past him to the clan leader. "How long will Bluestar sit with him?" he asked.
"Probably the whole night," Replied graypaw."Redtail was her deputy for many many moons. She won't want to let him go too quickly. He was one of the best warriors. Not as big and powerful as Tigerclaw or Lionheart, but quick and clever."
Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw, admiring the strength that swelled in his powerful muscles and broad head. His massive body showed signs of his warrior life. One of his ears was split into a deep vee shape, and a thick scar sliced the bridge of nose.
Suddenly Tigerclaw stood up and stalked over to Ravenpaw. Spottedleaf was crouching beside Tigerclaw's wounded apprentice, using her teeth and front paws to press wads of cobweb onto his shoulder wound.
Fireoaw leaned toward graypaw and asked, "What's spootedleaf doing?"
"Stopping the bleeding. It looked like a nasty cut. And Ravenpaw seemed really shaken up. He's always been a bit jumpy, but I 've never seen him this bad before. Let's go and see if he's woken up yet."
They made their way through the grieving cats toward the spot where Ravenpaw lay and settled them selves a respectful distance away to wait untill Tigerclaw had finished speaking.
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Apr 2, 2013 14:11:12 GMT -5
"So, Spottedleaf," Tigerclaw addressed the tortoiseshell with a confident meow. "How is he? Do you think you can save him? I've spent a lot of time training him up, I don't want my efforts to be wasted at the first battle." Spottedleaf didn't look up from her patient as she replied. "Yes, a pity if, after all your valuable training, he dies in his first fight, eh?" Firepaw could hear a teasing purr in her soft mew. "Will he live?" Tigerclaw demanded. "Of course. He just needs to rest." Tigerclaw snorted and looked down at the motionless black shape. He jabbed Ravenpaw with one of his front claws. "Come on, then! Get up!" Ravenpaw didn't move. "Look at the legnth of that claw!" Firepaw hissed. "Too right!" replied Graypaw with feeling. "I know I wouldn't want to get into a fight with him!" "Not so fast, Tigerclaw!" Spottedleaf placed her paw over Tigerclaw's sharp talon and gently moved it away. This apprentice needs to keep as still as possible until the cat has healed. We don't want him opening his wound by jumping about trying to please you. Leave him alone." Firepaw found himself holding his breath as he waited for Tigerclaw's reaction. He guessed that few cats dared to give orders to the warrior like that. The big tabby stiffened, and seemed about to speak when Spottedleaf mewed teasingly, "Even you know better than to argue with a medicine cat, Tigerclaw." Tigerclaw's eyes flashed at the little tortiseshell's words. "I wouldn't dare argue with you, dear Spottedleaf," he purred. He turned to leave and caught the sight of Graypaw and Firepaw. "Who's this?" he asked Graypaw towering above them. "He's the new apprentice," Graypaw mewed. "He smells like kittypet!" snorted the warrior. "I was a housecat," Firepaw meowed boldly, "but I am going to train to be a warrior." Tigerclaw looked at him with sudden interest. "Ah, yes. Now I remember. Bluestar mentioned that she had stumbled across some stray kittypet. So she's actually going to try you out, is she?" Firepaw sat up very straight, anxious to impress this distinguished Clan warrior. "That's right," he mewed respectfully. Tigerclaw eyed him thoughtfully. "Then I shall watch you progress with interest." Firepaw puffed his chest out proudly as Tigerclaw stalked away. "Do you think he liked me?" "I don't think Tigerclaw likes any apprentices!" whispered Graypaw. Just then, Ravenpaw stirred and twitched his ears. "Has he gone?" he mumbled. "Who? Tigerclaw?" replied Graypaw, trotting toward him. "Yep, he's gone." "Hi, there," Firepaw began, about to introduce himself. "Go away, both of you!" Spottedleaf protested. "How am I meant to help this cat with these interruptions!" She impatiently flicked her tail at Graypaw and Firepaw and pushed her way between her patient. Firepaw realized she was serious, despite the lively glimmer in her warm amber eyes. "Come on Firepaw," mewed Graypaw. "I'll show you around. See you later, Ravenpaw." The two cats left Spottedleaf with Ravenpaw in the clearing. Graypaw looked thoughtful. He was clearly taking his duties as a guide very seriously. "You know the Highrock already," he began flicking his tail toward the big smooth rock. "Bluestar always addresses the Clan from there." He lifted his nose toward a hollow in the side of the Highrock. "Her den was carved for many moons ago by an ancient stream." Hanging lichen draped the entrance, sheltering the leader's nest from wind and rain. "The warriors sleep over here," Graypaw went on. Firepaw followed him to a large bush a few paces away from the Highrock. There was a clear view from here right down to the gorse entrance to the camp. The branches of the bush hung low, but Firepaw could see a sheltered space inside where the warriors made their nests.
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Apr 3, 2013 13:33:01 GMT -5
"The senior warriors sleep nearest to the center, where it's the warmest," explained Graypaw. "They usually share their fresh-kill together over by that clump of nettles. The younger warriors eat nearby. Sometimes they are invited to join the senior warriors for eating, which is a big honor." "What about the other Clan cats?" Firepaw asked, fascinated but feeling rather overwhelmed by all the traditions and rituals of Clan life. "Well, the queens share warrior quarters when they work as warriors, but when they are expecting kits or nursing them they stay in a nest near the nursery. The elders have their own place on the other side of the clearing. Come on, I'll show you." Firepaw trotted after Graypaw, across the clearing and past the shadowy corner where Spottedleaf had her den. They stopped beside a fallen tree that sheltered a patch of lush grass. Crouched among the soft greenery were four elderly cats rucking into a plump young rabbit. Dustpaw abd Sabdpaw would have brought them that," whispered Graypaw. "One of the apprentices' duties is catching fresh-kill for the elders." "Hello, youngster," one of the elders greeted Graypaw. "Hello, Smallear," mewed Graypaw, nodding respectfully. "This must be our new apprentice. Firepaw isn't it?" mewed a second tom. His patchy fur was dark brown and there was only a stump where his tail should have been. "That's right," Firepaw replied, copying Graypaw's polite nod. "I'm Halftail," putted the brown tom. "Welcome to the Clan." "Have you two eaten?" meowed Smallear. Firepaw and Graypaw both shook their heads. "Well, there's enough here. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are turning into fine hunters. Would you mind if these youngsters shared a mouse, One-eye?" The pale gray queen who lay beside him shook her head. Firepaw noticed one of her eyes were clouded an sightless. "What about you, Dappletail?" The other elder, a tortoiseshell she-cat with a gray muzzle meowed in a voice cracked with age. "Of course not." "Thank you," mewed Graypaw eagerly. He stepped forward and took a large mouse from the pile of prey, and then dropped it at Firepaws feet. "You still not tasted a mouse?" he asked. "No," Firepaw admitted. He suddenly felt excited by the warm smells that were rising from the peice of fresh-kill. His whole body quivered at the thought of sharing his first real food as a Clan member. "In that case, you can have first bite. Just save me some!" Graypaw dipped his head and stood back to give Firepaw room. Firepaw crouched down and sang with flavors of the forest. "What do you think?" asked Graypaw. "Fantastic!" stumbled Firepaw, his mouth still full. "More over then," mewed Graypaw, stepping forward and bending his head to take a bite. As the two apprentices shared the mouse, they listened to the elders talk among themselves. "How long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?" asked Smallear. "What did you say, Smallear?" mewed One-eye. "I think your hearing has become as poor as your eyesight!" snapped Smallear impatiently. "I said, how long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?" One-eye ignored Smallear's irritated reply and spoke instead to the tortoiseshell queen. "Dappletail, do you remember the day many moons ago when Bluestar herself was appointed deputy?" Dappletail mewed earnestly. "Oh, yes! It was not very long after she lost her kits." "She'll not be happy about appointing a new deputy," Smallear observed. "Redtail served her long and well. But she'll need to make up her mind quickly. According to Clan custom, the choice has to be made before moonhigh after the death of the old deputy." "At least this time the choice is obvious," meowed Halftail. Firepaw raised his head and looked around the clearing. What could Halftail mean? To Firepaw, all the warriors looked worthy of becoming deputy. Perhaps he meant Tigerclaw, after all, he had avenged Redtail's death. Tigerclaw was sitting not far off, his ears angled toward the elders' conversation. As Firepaw stretched with his tongue to lick the last traces of mouse from his whiskers, Bluestar's voice called from the Highrock. Redtail's body still lay in the clearing below, pale gray in the fading light. "A new deputy must be appointed," she mewed. "But first, let us give thanks to StarClan for the life of Redtail. Tonight he sits with his fellow warriors among the stars." Silence fell as all the cats look up into the sky, which was beginning to darken as evening crept over the forest. "And now I shall name ThunderClan's new deputy," Bluestar continued. "I say these words before the body of Redtail, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice." Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw. He couldn't help noticing the hunger in the big warrior's amber eyes as he stared at the Highrock. "Lionheart," meowed Bluestar, "will be the new deputy of ThunderClan." Firepaw was curious to see Tigerclaw's reaction. But the dark warrior's face revealed nothing as he mewed congratulate Lionheart with a nudge so hearty that it almost pushed the golden tabby off balance. "Why didn't she make Tigerclaw deputy?" Firepaw whispered to Graypaw. "Probably because Lionheart has been a warrior longer, so he has a lot more experience," Graypaw murmured back, still looking up at Bluestar. Bluestar spoke again. "Redtail was also a mentor to young Dustpaw. Since there must be no delay in training of our apprentices, I shall appoint Dustpaw's new mentor immediately. Darkstripe, you are ready for your first apprentice, so you will continue Dustpaw's training. You had a fine mentor in Tigerclaw, and I expect you to pass on some of your excellent skills you were taught." The tabby warrior swelled with pride as he showed his acceptance with a solemn nod. He strode over to Dustpaw, bent his head, and rather awkwardly touched noses with his new apprentice. Dustpaw flicked his tail respectfully, but his eyes were still dull with grief for his lost mentor. Bluestar raised her voice. "I shall keep a vigil with Redtail's body tonight, before we bury him at sunrise." She jumped down from the Highrock and walked over to lie beside Redtail's body once more. Many other cats joined her, Dustpaw and Smallear among them. "Should we sit with them too?" Firepaw suggested. He had to admit the idea didn't appeal to him much. It had been a busy day and he was beginning to feel tired. All he wanted to do was was find somewhere warm and dry to curl up and sleep. Graypaw shook his head. "No, only those who were closest to Redtail will share his final night. I'll show you where we sleep. The apprentices' den is over here." Firepaw followed Graypaw to a thick bush of ferns that lay behind a mossy tree stump. "All the apprentices' share their fresh-kill by that stump," Graypaw told him. "How many apprentices are there?" Firepaw asked. "Not as many as usual--just me, you, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw." As Graypaw and Firepaw settled themselves beside the tree stump, a young she-cat crawled out beneath the ferns. Her coat was ginger, like Firepaw's, but much paler, with barely visible stripes of darker fur. "So here comes the new apprentice!" she meowed, narrowing her eyes. "Hello," Firepaw mewed. The young cat sniffed rudely. "He smells like a kittypet! Don't tell me I'm going to have to share my nest with that revolting stench!" Firepaw felt rather taken aback. Since his fight with Longtail, all the cats had been quite friendly. Maybe they had just been distracted by Ravenpaw's news, he thought. "You'll have to excuse Sandpaw," apologized Graypaw. "I think she must have a furball stuck somewhere. She's not usually this bad-tempered." "Psst!" spat Sandpaw crossly. "Hold on, youngsters." The deep voice of Whitestorm sounded behind the apprentices. "Sandpaw! As my apprentice, I expected you to be a little more welcoming to this newcomer." Sandpaw help up her head and looked defiant. "I'm sorry, Whitestorm," she purred, not sounding very sorry at all. "I just didn't expect to be training with a kittypet, that's all!" "I'm sure you'll get used to it, Sandpaw," meowed Whitestorm calmly. "Now it's getting late, and training starts tomorrow. You should get some sleep." He gave Sandpaw a stern look, and she nodded obediently. As he walked off, she spun around and vanished into the clump of ferns, sniffing once more as she brushed past Firepaw. With a flick of tail, Graypaw invited Firepaw to follow him, and led the way after Sandpaw. Inside the sleeping area, the ground was lined with soft moss, and the pale moonlight turned everything a delicate shade of green. The air was fragrant with the fern scent, and warmer than outside. "Where do I sleep?" Firepaw asked. "Anywhere, as long as it's not near me!" snarled Sandpaw, who was prodding some moss with her paw. Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged glances, but said nothing. Firepaw raked together a pile of moss with is claws. When he gathered his bed into a cozy nest, he circled until it was comfortable and settled down. His whole body felt drowsy with contentment. This was his home now. He was a member of ThunderClan.
Written by Erin Hunter
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Apr 4, 2013 12:44:55 GMT -5
Chapter 5
“Hey, Firepaw, wake up!” Graypaw’s meow broke into Firepaw’s dream. He had been chasing a squirrel, up and up, into the topmost branches of a tall oak. “Training begins at sunrise. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are already up,” Graypaw added urgently. Firepaw stretched sleepily, then remembered: today was his first day of training. He leaped to his paws. His drowsiness evaporated as excitement surged through his veins. Graypaw was giving himself a hasty wash. Between licks, he meowed, “I’ve just spoken to Lionheart. Ravenpaw won’t be training with us till his wound is better. He’ll probably stay at Spottedleaf’s den for another day or two. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are on hunting duty. So Lionheart thought you and I could train with him and Tigerclaw this morning. We’d better hurry, though,” he added. “They’ll be waiting!” Graypaw led Firepaw quickly through the gorse entrance of the camp and up the side of the rock-strewn valley. As they climbed over the crest of the ravine, a cool breeze ruffled their fur. Fat, white clouds raced across the blue sky overhead. Firepaw felt fierce joy well up inside him as he followed Graypaw down a tree-shaded slope and into a sandy hollow. Tigerclaw and Lionheart were indeed waiting, sitting a few tail-lengths apart on the sun-warmed sand. “In future, I expect you both to be punctual,” growled Tigerclaw. “Don’t be too severe, Tigerclaw; it was a busy night last night. I expect they were tired,” meowed Lionheart gently. “You have not yet been assigned a mentor, Firepaw,” he went on. “For now, Tigerclaw and I will share your training.” Firepaw nodded enthusiastically, his tail held high, unable to disguise his delight at having two such great warriors as his mentors. “Come,” meowed Tigerclaw impatiently. “Today we are going to show you the edges of our territory, so that you know where you will be hunting and what boundaries you need to protect. Graypaw, it won’t do you any harm to remind yourself of the Clan’s outer limits.” Without another word, Tigerclaw leaped up and bounded out of the sandy hollow. Lionheart nodded to Graypaw and they took off with equal speed. Firepaw scrambled after them, his paws slipping on the soft sand. The trees were thick in this part of the forest, birch and ash trees overshadowed by mighty oaks. The ground was carpeted with crisp dead leaves that rustled beneath their paws. Tigerclaw paused to spray his scent on a thick clump of ferns. The other cats stopped beside him. “There is a Twoleg path here,” murmured Lionheart. “Use your nose, Firepaw. Can you smell anything?” Firepaw sniffed. There was the faint scent of a Twoleg, and the stronger smell of a dog, familiar to him from his old home. “A Twoleg has walked his dog along here, but they are gone now,” he mewed. “Good,” meowed Lionheart. “Do you think it is safe to cross?” Firepaw sniffed again. The odors were weak and seemed overlaid with fresher forest smells. “Yes,” he replied. Tigerclaw nodded, and the four cats stalked out from beneath the ferns and crossed the sharp stones of the narrow Twoleg path. The trees beyond were pine. They grew tall and straight, row after row. It was easy to walk silently here. The ground was thick with layers of dead needles, which prickled against Firepaw’s pads but felt spongy underneath. There was no undergrowth here to hide in, and Firepaw sensed tension in the other cats as they stalked unprotected between the tree trunks. “Twolegs put these trees here,” meowed Tigerclaw. “They cut them down with foul-smelling creatures, which spew enough fumes to make a kit go blind. Then they take the fallen trees to the Treecut place that lies near here.” Firepaw stopped and listened for the roar of the tree-eater, which he had heard before. “The Treecut place will be silent for a few moons more, until the time of greenleaf,” explained Graypaw, noticing his pause. The cats padded on through the pine forest. “Twolegplace lies in that direction,” meowed Tigerclaw, flicking his thick tail to one side. “No doubt you can smell it, Firepaw. Today, however, we will head the other way.” Eventually they reached another Twoleg path that marked the far edge of the pine forest. They quickly crossed over into the safe bushes of the oak woods beyond. But Firepaw still sensed anxiety in the other cats. “We’re approaching RiverClan territory,” whispered Graypaw. “The Sunningrocks are over there.” He pointed with his soft muzzle to a treeless mound of boulders. Firepaw felt his fur stand on end. This was where Redtail had been slain. Lionheart stopped by a flat gray rock. “This is the boundary between ThunderClan and RiverClan territory. RiverClan rules the hunting grounds beside the great river,” he meowed. “Breathe deeply, Firepaw.” The pungent smell of unfamiliar cats hit the roof of Firepaw’s mouth. He was surprised how different it smelled from the warm cat scents of the ThunderClan camp. And he was also surprised to realize just how familiar and comforting the ThunderClan scents seemed to him already. “That is the smell of RiverClan,” Tigerclaw growled beside him. “Remember it well. It will be strongest at the boundary, because their warriors will have scent-marked the trees along here.” With these words, the dark tabby lifted his tail and sprayed his own mark on the flat rock. “We’ll follow this boundary line, as it leads straight to Fourtrees,” Lionheart meowed. He set off quickly, away from the Sunningrocks, followed by Tigerclaw. Graypaw and Firepaw trotted after them. “What is Fourtrees?” Firepaw panted. “It is where the territories of all four Clans meet,” replied Graypaw. “There are four great oaks there, as old as the Clans—” “Be quiet!” ordered Tigerclaw. “Don’t forget how close we are to enemy territory!” The two apprentices fell silent and Firepaw concentrated on walking silently. They crossed a shallow stream, keeping their paws dry by leaping from boulder to boulder across the pebbly riverbed. By the time they reached Fourtrees, Firepaw was feeling completely out of breath and his paws ached. He wasn’t used to traveling so far and so fast. He was quite relieved when Lionheart and Tigerclaw led them out of the thick woods and stopped at the brow of a bush-covered slope. It was sunhigh now. The clouds had cleared, and the wind had dropped. Below, in the dazzling sunlight, stood four enormous oaks, their dark green crowns reaching almost to the top of the steep slope. “As Graypaw told you,” meowed Lionheart to Firepaw, “this is Fourtrees, where the territories of all four Clans meet. WindClan governs the high ground ahead of us, where the sun sets. You won’t be able to catch their scent today—the wind is blowing toward them. But you’ll learn it soon enough.” “And ShadowClan holds power over there, in the darkest part of the forest,” added Graypaw, flicking his head sideways. “The elders say that the cold winds from the north blow over the ShadowClan cats and chill their hearts.” “So many Clans!” Firepaw exclaimed. And so well organized, he added to himself, remembering Smudge’s lurid tales of wildcats wreaking terror in the forest. “You see now why prey is so precious,” meowed Lionheart. “Why we must fight to protect what little we have.” “But that seems foolish! Why can’t the Clans work together and share their hunting grounds, instead of fighting each other?” Firepaw suggested boldly. A shocked silence greeted his words. Tigerclaw was the first to reply. “That is treacherous thinking, kittypet,” he snapped. “Don’t be too fierce, Tigerclaw,” warned Lionheart. “The ways of the Clans are new to this apprentice.” He looked at Firepaw. “You speak from your heart, young Firepaw. This will make you a stronger warrior one day.” Tigerclaw growled. “Or it might make him give in to kittypet weakness right at the moment of attack.” Lionheart glanced briefly at Tigerclaw before he continued. “The four Clans do come together peacefully, in a Gathering each moon. Here”—he bent his head toward the four mighty oaks below—“is where they meet. The truce lasts for as long as the moon is at its fullest.” “Then there must be a meeting very soon?” Firepaw suggested, remembering how bright the moonlight had been the night before. “Indeed there is!” answered Lionheart, sounding impressed. “Tonight, in fact. The Gatherings are very important because they allow the Clans to come together in peace for one night. But you must understand that longer alliances bring more trouble than they’re worth.” “It is our Clan loyalty that makes us strong,” Tigerclaw meowed in agreement. “If you weaken that loyalty, you weaken our chances of survival.” Firepaw nodded. “I understand,” he mewed. “Come on,” meowed Lionheart, standing up. “Let’s keep moving.” They paced along the ridge of the valley where Fourtrees stood. Now they were heading away from the sun as it began to sink in the afternoon sky. They crossed the stream at a place where it was narrow enough to leap over in one jump. Firepaw sniffed the air. A new cat-scent touched his mouth glands, strong and sour. “Which Clan is that?” he asked. “ShadowClan,” answered Tigerclaw grimly. “We are traveling along their border. Keep your wits about you, Firepaw. Fresher scents mean that a ShadowClan patrol is in the area.” As Firepaw nodded, he heard a new noise. He stiffened, but the other cats kept up their pace, heading straight for the ominous rumbling. “What’s that?” he called, trotting to catch up with them. “You’ll see in a moment,” replied Lionheart. Firepaw peered through the trees ahead. They seemed to be getting thinner, letting in a broad band of sunlight. “Are we at the edge of the woods?” he asked. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. The green forest scents were overlaid with other strange, dark smells. This time it was not cat-scent, but an odor that reminded him of his old Twoleg home. And the rumbling was getting louder, a ceaseless roar that made the ground tremble and ached in Firepaw’s ears. “This is the Thunderpath,” meowed Tigerclaw. Firepaw followed as Lionheart led them toward the edge of the forest. Then he sat down and all four cats looked out. Firepaw could see a gray path like a river, cutting its way through the forest. The hard gray stone stretched ahead of him so far that the trees on the other side seemed blurred and tiny. Firepaw shuddered at the bitter smell that rose from the path. Next moment he leaped back, his fur bristling, as a gigantic monster roared past. The branches of the trees on either side flapped madly in the wind that chased the speeding monster. Firepaw stared around at the other cats, his eyes wide, unable to speak. He had seen paths like this before near his old Twoleg home, but never this wide, nor with monsters so swift and fierce. “Scared me too the first time,” remarked Graypaw. “But at least it helps to keep ShadowClan warriors from crossing into our territory. The Thunderpath runs for many pawsteps along our boundary line. And don’t worry; those monsters never seem to leave the Thunderpath. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t go too near.” “It’s time we returned to camp,” meowed Lionheart. “You have seen all our boundaries now. But we’ll avoid Snakerocks, even though the way around is longer. An untrained apprentice would be easy prey for an adder, and I expect you are getting tired, Firepaw.” Firepaw couldn’t help feeling relieved at the thought of returning to the camp. His head was spinnning with all the new smells and sights, and Lionheart was right: he was tired, and hungry. He fell in behind Graypaw as the cats turned away from the Thunderpath and headed back into the forest. The dewy scents of evening filled the air as Firepaw made his way through the gorse entrance into the ThunderClan camp. Fresh-kill was waiting for them. Firepaw and Graypaw took their share from the pile that lay in a shady part of the clearing and carried it to the tree stump outside their quarters. Dustpaw and Sandpaw were already there, munching hungrily. “Hi, there, kittypet,” mewed Dustpaw, narrowing his eyes scornfully at Firepaw. “Enjoy the food we caught for you.” “Who knows, you might even learn to catch your own one day!” sneered Sandpaw. “Are you two still on hunting duty?” asked Graypaw innocently. “Never mind. We’ve been patrolling our territory borders. You’ll be glad to know all is safe.” “I’m sure the other Clans were terrified when they smelled you two coming!” yowled Dustpaw. “They didn’t even dare show their faces,” retorted Graypaw, unable to hide his anger. “Well, we’ll ask them tonight when we see them at the Clan Gathering,” mewed Sandpaw. “Are you going?” Firepaw blurted out, impressed in spite of the apprentices’ hostility. “Of course,” replied Dustpaw loftily. “It’s a great honor, you know. But don’t worry; we’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” Graypaw ignored Dustpaw’s gloating and started eating his fresh-kill. Firepaw was hungry too, and crouched down to eat. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy that Dustpaw and Sandpaw were actually going to meet the other Clans tonight. A loud call from Bluestar made Firepaw look up. He watched several of the Clan warriors and elders gather in the clearing. It was time for the Clan party to leave for the Gathering. Dustpaw and Sandpaw leaped to their feet and trotted off to join the other cats. “’Bye, you two,” called Sandpaw over her shoulder. “Have a nice, quiet evening!” The assembled cats stalked out of the camp entrance in single file, with Bluestar at the head. Her fur glowed like silver in the moonlight, and she looked calm and confident as she led her Clan to the brief truce between old enemies. “Have you ever been to a Gathering?” Firepaw asked Graypaw wistfully. “Not yet,” replied Graypaw, crunching loudly on a mouse bone. “But it won’t be long now; just you wait. All the apprentices get to go sometime.” The two apprentices ate the rest of their meal in silence. When they had finished, Graypaw wandered over to Firepaw and began to groom his head. Together they washed, sharing tongues as Firepaw had seen the other cats do when he first arrived. Then, tired after the long trek, they pushed their way into their den. They settled down in their nests and quickly fell asleep.
Written by Erin Hunter
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Jun 10, 2013 19:04:40 GMT -5
The following morning, Graypaw and Firepaw arrived early at the sandy hollow. They had crept out before Sandpaw and Dustpaw woke. Firepaw had been eager to hear about the Gathering, but Graypaw had dragged him away. “You’ll hear all about it later, if I know those two,” he had mewed. It promised to be another warm day. And this time Ravenpaw came to join them. Thanks to Spottedleaf, his wound was healing well. Graypaw played around, scooping leaves into the air and leaping after them. Firepaw watched, his tail twitching with amusement. Ravenpaw sat quietly at one side of the hollow, looking tense and unhappy. “Cheer up, Ravenpaw!” called Graypaw. “I know you don’t like training, but you’re not usually this miserable!” The scents of Lionheart and Tigerclaw warned the apprentices of their approach, and Ravenpaw mewed hastily, “I suppose I’m just worried about my shoulder getting hurt again.” At that moment, Tigerclaw emerged from the bushes, closely followed by Lionheart. “Warriors should suffer their pain silently,” growled Tigerclaw. He looked Ravenpaw straight in the eye. “You need to learn to hold your tongue.” Ravenpaw flinched and dropped his eyes to the ground. “Tigerclaw’s a bit grumpy today,” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear. Lionheart glanced at his apprentice sternly and announced, “Today we are going to practice stalking. Now, there is a big difference between creeping up on a rabbit and creeping up on a mouse. Can any of you tell me why?” Firepaw had no idea, and Ravenpaw seemed to have taken Tigerclaw’s comment to heart and was holding his tongue. “Come on!” snorted Tigerclaw impatiently. It was Graypaw who answered: “Because a rabbit will smell you before he sees you, but a mouse will feel your pawsteps through the ground before he even smells you.” “Exactly, Graypaw! So what must you bear in mind when hunting mice?” “Step lightly?” Firepaw suggested. Lionheart looked approvingly at him. “Quite right, Firepaw. You must take all your weight into your haunches, so that your paws make no impact on the forest floor. Let’s try it!” Firepaw watched as Graypaw and Ravenpaw immediately dropped into a stalking crouch. “Nicely done, Graypaw!” meowed Lionheart as the two apprentices began to move forward stealthily. “Keep your rear down, Ravenpaw, you look like a duck!” spat Tigerclaw. “Now you try it, Firepaw.” Firepaw crouched down and began to creep across the forest floor. He felt himself fall instinctively into the right position, and as he stepped forward, as silently and lightly as he could, he felt a glow of pride that his muscles responded so smoothly. “Well, it’s obvious you’ve known nothing but softness!” growled Tigerclaw. “You stalk like a lumbering kittypet! Do you think dinner is going to come and lie down in your food dish and wait to be eaten?” Firepaw sat up quickly as Tigerclaw spoke, a little taken aback by his harsh words. He listened carefully to the warrior, determined to get everything right. “His pace and forward movement will come later, but his crouch is perfectly balanced,” Lionheart pointed out mildly. “Which is better than Ravenpaw, I suppose,” complained Tigerclaw. He cast a scornful look at the black cat. “Even after two moons of training, you’re still putting all your weight on your left side.” Ravenpaw looked even more dejected, and Firepaw couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “His injury is bothering him, that’s all!” Tigerclaw whipped his head around and glared at Firepaw. “Injuries are a fact of life. He should be able to adapt. Even you, Firepaw, have learned something this morning. If Ravenpaw picked up things as quickly as you, he’d be a credit to me instead of an embarrassment. Imagine being shown up by a kittypet!” he spat angrily at his apprentice. Firepaw felt his fur prickle with discomfort. He couldn’t meet Ravenpaw’s eyes, so he looked down at his paws. “Well, I’m more lopsided than a one-legged badger,” mewed Graypaw, breaking off from his careful stalking to stagger comically across the clearing. “I think I’ll have to settle for hunting stupid mice. They won’t stand a chance. I shall just wander up to them and sit on them till they surrender.” “Concentrate, young Graypaw. This is no time for your jokes!” meowed Lionheart sternly. “Perhaps you might focus your mind better if you try out your stalking for real.” All three apprentices looked up brightly. “I want each one of you to try catching real prey,” meowed Lionheart. “Ravenpaw, you look beside the Owltree. Graypaw, there might be something in that big bramble patch over there. And you, Firepaw, follow the rabbit track over that rise; you’ll find the dry bed of a winter stream. You may find something there.” The three apprentices bounded away, even Ravenpaw finding some extra energy for this challenge. With the blood pounding in his ears, Firepaw crept slowly up over the rise. Sure enough, a streambed cut through the trees ahead of him. In leaf-fall, he guessed it would carry the rainwater away from the forest and into the great river that cut through RiverClan territory. Now it was dry. Firepaw crept quietly down the bank and crouched on its sandy floor. Every sense felt on fire with tension. Silently he scanned the empty stream for signs of life. He watched for any tiny movement, his mouth open so he could pick up the smallest scent, his ears twisted forward. Then he smelled mouse. He recognized the odor instantly, remembering his first taste the night before. Wild energy surged through him, but he remained motionless, trying desperately to pinpoint the prey. He strained his ears forward until he picked up the rapid pulsing of a tiny mouse heart. Then a flash of brown caught his eye. The creature was scrambling through the long grass that draped the edges of the stream. Firepaw shifted closer, remembering to keep his weight on his haunches until he was within striking distance. Then he pushed back hard on his hindpaws and sprang, kicking up sand as he rose. The mouse raced away. But Firepaw was quicker. He scooped it into the air with one paw, threw it onto the sandy streambed, and lunged on top of it. He killed it quickly with one sharp bite. Firepaw carefully lifted the warm body between his teeth and returned with his tail held high to the hollow where Tigerclaw and Lionheart waited. He had made his first kill. He was a true ThunderClan apprentice now.
All written by Erin Hunter! I don't own any of this!!! This is for people that can't access Warriors anyplace else.
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Jun 11, 2013 10:34:09 GMT -5
Chapter 6
Early-morning sunlight streamed down onto the forest floor as Firepaw roamed in search of prey. Two moons had passed since he had begun his training. He felt at ease in this environment now. His senses had been awoken and educated in the ways of the woods. Firepaw paused to sniff the earth and the cold blind things that moved within it. He caught the scent of a Twoleg that had wandered the forest recently. Now that greenleaf was fully here, leaves were thick on the branches and tiny creatures were busy beneath the carpet of leaf mold. Firepaw made a lean, strong shape as he moved silently through the trees, all his senses alert for the scent trail that would end in a swift kill. Today he had been set his first solo task. He was determined to do well, even if his task was only to bring back fresh-kill for the Clan. He headed for the stream that he had crossed on that first trek through the ThunderClan hunting grounds. It gurgled and spattered as it ran downhill over the smooth, round pebbles. Firepaw paused briefly to lap at the cold, clear water, then lifted his head and tested the air again for any scent of prey. The stench of a fox lay heavy in the air here. The smell was stale, so the fox must have drunk here earlier in the day. Firepaw recognized the odor; he had smelled it on his first visit to the forest. Since then, Lionheart had taught him it was fox-scent, but, apart from the glimpse of the fox’s brush he had caught on that first outing, Firepaw had still never seen one properly. He struggled to screen out the fox-stench and concentrate on prey-scent. Suddenly his whiskers prickled as he homed in on the warm blood-beat of prey—a water vole busy about its nest. A moment later he saw the vole. The fat brown body was darting back and forth along the bank as it gathered grass stalks. Firepaw’s mouth watered in anticipation. His last meal had been many hours ago, but he dared not hunt for himself until the Clan had been fed. He remembered the words repeated by Lionheart and Tigerclaw time and time again: “The Clan must be fed first.” Dropping into a crouch, Firepaw began to stalk the little creature. His orange belly fur brushed against the damp grass. He crept closer, his eyes never leaving his prey. Almost there. Another moment and he would be near enough to spring…. Suddenly there was a loud rustle in the ferns behind him. The water vole’s ears twitched and it disappeared down a hole in the bank. Firepaw felt the hackles rising along his spine. Whatever had ruined his first good chance of catching prey would have to pay. He sniffed the air. He could tell it was a cat, but he realized with a jolt that he couldn’t identify which Clan it belonged to—the stale stench of fox still confused his smell-sense. A growl rose in his throat as he began doubling back in a wide circle. He pricked up his ears and opened his eyes wide, seeking out any movement. He heard the undergrowth rustle again. It was louder now, off to one side. Firepaw edged closer. He could see the ferns moving, but the fronds still hid the enemy from view. A twig snapped with a sharp cracking noise. From the noise it’s making, it must be big, Firepaw thought, preparing himself for a fierce battle. He leaped for the trunk of an ash and climbed swiftly and silently up to an overhanging branch. Below him the invisible warrior came closer, and closer still. Firepaw held his breath, judging his moment as the ferns were pushed aside and a large grayish shape emerged. “Gr-aaar!” The battle cry rumbled in Firepaw’s throat. Claws unsheathed, he launched himself at the enemy and landed squarely on a set of furry, muscular shoulders. He dug in hard, gripping with thorn-sharp claws, ready to deal out a powerful warning bite. “Wa-ah! What’sat?” The body below him shot straight up in the air, carrying him with it. “Uh! Graypaw?” Firepaw recognized the astonished voice and caught his friend’s familiar smell, but he was too fired up to loosen his grip. “Ambush! Murr-oww!” spat Graypaw, not realizing that the cat gripping onto his back was Firepaw. He rolled over and over in an attempt to dislodge his attacker. “Uufff-ff!” Firepaw rolled with him, squashed and flattened beneath the heavy body. “It’s me—Firepaw!” he yowled as he struggled to pull free and sheath his claws. Rolling away, he sprang to his feet and gave himself a shake, which rippled all the way along his body to the end of his tail. “Graypaw! It’s me,” he repeated. “I thought you were an enemy warrior!” Graypaw rose to his feet. He winced and shook himself. “It felt like it!” he grumbled, twisting his head around to lick his sore shoulders. “You’ve raked me to shreds!” “Sorry,” Firepaw mumbled. “But what was I supposed to think, with you creeping up on me like that?” “Creeping up!” Graypaw’s eyes were round with indignation. “That was my best stealth crouch.” “Stealth! You still stalk like a lopsided badger!” Firepaw teased. He flattened his ears playfully. Graypaw gave a hiss of delight. “I’ll show you lopsided!” The two cats leaped at each other and began rolling over and over in a play-fight. Graypaw swiped at Firepaw with a hefty paw and the young apprentice’s head buzzed with stars. “Uufff-ff!” Firepaw shook his head to clear it and then launched a counterattack. He managed to get in a couple of paw strikes before Graypaw overpowered him and held him down. Firepaw let his body go limp. “You give up too easily!” mewed Graypaw, loosening his grip. As he did so, Firepaw sprang to his feet, firing Graypaw off his back and into the undergrowth. Firepaw leaped after him and pinned him to the ground. “‘Surprise is the warrior’s greatest weapon,’” he crowed, quoting one of Lionheart’s favorite phrases. He jumped nimbly off Graypaw and began to squirm around in the leaf litter, enjoying his easy victory and the warmth of the earth against his back. Graypaw seemed unbothered by his second defeat of the morning. It was too fine a day for bad temper. “So how’re you getting on with your task?” he asked. Firepaw sat up. “I was doing just fine till you came along! I was about to catch a vole when your noisy trampling frightened it off.” “Oh, sorry,” mewed Graypaw. Firepaw looked at his crestfallen friend. “That’s okay. You didn’t know,” he purred. “Anyway,” he continued, “shouldn’t you be heading to meet the patrol on the WindClan border? I thought you had to give them a message from Bluestar.” “Yeah, but there’s plenty of time. I was going to do a little hunting first. I’m starving!” “Me too. But I’ve got to hunt for the Clan before I can hunt for myself.” “I bet Dustpaw and Sandpaw used to swallow a shrew or two when they were on hunting duty,” snorted Graypaw. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, but this is my first solo assignment….” “And you want to do it right; I know.” Graypaw sighed. “What is the message from Bluestar, anyway?” Firepaw asked, changing the subject. “She wants the patrol to wait at the Great Sycamore until she joins them at sunhigh. Seems that some ShadowClan cats have been prowling around. Bluestar wants to check things out.” “You’d best get going then,” Firepaw reminded him. “The WindClan hunting grounds aren’t too far from here. There’s plenty of time,” answered Graypaw confidently. “And I suppose I should help out after losing you that vole.” “It doesn’t matter,” Firepaw mewed. “I’ll find another. It’s such a warm day, there should be quite a few out and about.” “True. But you still have to catch them.” Graypaw nibbled at a front claw, stripping off a piece of the outer sheath thoughtfully. “You know, that could take you until way past sunhigh, maybe even until sunset.” Firepaw nodded without enthusiasm as his belly gave a rumble. He would probably have to make three or four hunting trips before he had caught enough prey. Silverpelt would be in the sky before he got a chance to eat. Graypaw stroked his whiskers. “Come on; I’ll help you get started. I owe you that, at least. We should be able to catch a couple of voles before I have to get going.” Firepaw followed Graypaw upstream, glad of the company and the help. The fox-stench was still in the air, but suddenly it smelled stronger. Firepaw paused. “Can you smell that?” he asked. Graypaw stopped and sniffed the air too. “Fox. Yeah, I smelled it earlier.” “Doesn’t it smell fresher to you now, though?” Firepaw asked. Graypaw sniffed again, opening his mouth slightly. “You’re right,” he murmured, lowering his voice. He swiveled his head to look across the stream at the bushes in the woods beyond. “Look!” he whispered. Firepaw looked. He saw something red and thick-haired moving among the bushes. It stepped into a clearing in the undergrowth and Firepaw saw a low body, glinting red in the dappled sunlight. Its tail was heavily furred and it had a long, narrow snout. “So that’s a fox?” Firepaw whispered. “What an ugly muzzle!” “You can say that again!” agreed Graypaw. “I was following one of those when we first…met,” whispered Firepaw. “More likely it was following you, you idiot!” hissed Graypaw. “Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat. We must warn the queens that one has strayed into our territory. Foxes are as bad as badgers when it comes to killing young kits. I’m just glad you didn’t catch up with the one you saw last time. He’d have made mousemeat out of a tiny scrap like you.” Firepaw looked a little put out, and Graypaw added, “You’d stand a better chance these days, though. Anyway, Bluestar will probably send a warrior patrol to scare it off. Put the queens’ minds at rest.” The fox had not noticed them, so the two apprentices continued along the stream. “So what does a badger look like?” Firepaw asked as they prowled along, sniffing to either side. “Black and white, short legs. You’ll know one when you meet one. They’re bad-tempered, lumbering animals. They’re less likely to raid the nursery than a fox, but they have a vicious bite. How do you think old Halftail earned his name? He hasn’t been able to climb a tree since a badger bit his tail off!” “Why not?” “Scared of falling. A cat needs his tail if he wants to land on his feet. It helps him spin in midair.” Firepaw nodded in understanding. As Firepaw had predicted, hunting was good that day. Before long, Graypaw had pounced on a small mouse and Firepaw had caught a thrush. He quickly took its life. No time to practice killing techniques today; there were too many hungry mouths waiting back at camp. Firepaw kicked earth over the prey, so that it would be safe from predators until he came back for it. Suddenly a squirrel broke cover. Firepaw burst into action. “After it!” he called, pelting at full stretch over the springy woodland floor with Graypaw at his heels. They slid to a halt as the squirrel scampered upward into a birch. “Lost it!” Graypaw growled in disappointment. Panting, the two cats stopped to catch their breath. The acrid stench that hit their mouths and noses surprised them. “The Thunderpath,” Firepaw mewed. “I didn’t realize we’d come so far.” The two cats edged forward to peer out of the forest at the great, dark path. It was the first time they had been here alone. A trail of noisy creatures growled along the hard surface, their dead eyes staring straight ahead. “Yuck!” Graypaw snorted. “Those monsters really stink!” Firepaw twitched his ears in agreement. The choking smells made his throat sting. “Have you ever been across the Thunderpath?” he mewed.
Written by Erin Hunter
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Oct 1, 2013 16:11:35 GMT -5
Graypaw shook his head. Firepaw took a step out of the cover of the forest. A border of oily grass lay between the trees and the Thunderpath. He crept slowly out onto it, and then shrank back as a stinking monster hurtled past. “Hey! Where are you going?” Graypaw mewed. Firepaw didn’t reply. He waited till there were no monsters in sight. Then he edged forward again, across the grass, right to the edge of the path. Cautiously, he reached out a paw to touch it. It felt warm, almost sticky, heated by the sun. He looked up, staring across the Thunderpath. Was that a pair of eyes glinting out of the forest on the other side? He sniffed the air, but smelled nothing except the stench of the great gray path. The eyes on the other side were still shining in the shadows. Then they blinked, slowly. Firepaw was sure now. It was a ShadowClan warrior, and it was staring straight at him. “Firepaw!” Graypaw’s voice made Firepaw jump, just as a huge monster, taller than a tree, roared past his nose. The wind from it almost toppled him over. Firepaw turned and ran as fast as he could back into the safety of the forest. “You mouse-brained fool!” spat Graypaw. His whiskers trembled with fear and anger. “What were you doing?” “I just wondered what the Thunderpath felt like,” Firepaw muttered. His whiskers were trembling too. “Come on,” hissed Graypaw edgily. “Let’s get out of here!” Firepaw followed Graypaw as he leaped away back into the forest. Once they were a safe distance from the Thunderpath, Graypaw stopped to catch his breath. Firepaw sat down and began to lick his ruffled fur. “I think I saw a ShadowClan warrior,” he mewed between licks. “In the forest on the other side of the Thunderpath.” “A ShadowClan warrior!” echoed Graypaw, his eyes wide. “Really?” “I’m pretty sure.” “Well, it’s a good thing that monster came past when it did,” retorted Graypaw. “Where there’s one ShadowClan warrior, there’s more, and we’re no match for them yet. We’d better get out of here.” He looked up at the sun, which was almost directly overhead. “I’d better get a move on if I want to meet that patrol on time,” he mewed. “See you later.” He sprang away into the undergrowth, calling as he went, “You never know; Lionheart might let me come and help you with the hunting once I’ve delivered this message.” Firepaw watched him go. He envied Graypaw, wishing he were off to join a warrior patrol. But at least he’d have something to tell Dustpaw and Sandpaw when he returned to camp. Today he had seen his first ShadowClan warrior. Chapter 7 Firepaw retraced his steps and headed back toward the stream. He thought of those eyes burning from the darkness of the ShadowClan territory. Suddenly he caught a faint smell on the breeze. A stranger! Perhaps that ShadowClan warrior… Instantly a growl rumbled in Firepaw’s throat. The scent message told him many things. The stranger was a she-cat, not young and definitely not from ThunderClan. She carried no distinct scent from any of the Clans, but Firepaw could tell she was tired, hungry, and sick, and she was in an ugly mood. Dropping low, Firepaw moved forward, heading toward the scent. Then he paused in puzzlement. The warrior scent was fainter now. He sniffed again. Suddenly, with a lightning movement, a snarling ball of fur burst from the bushes behind him. Firepaw screeched in shock as the she-cat slammed into him, knocking him sideways. Two heavy paws clamped down onto his shoulders, and iron jaws closed around the back of his neck. “Murr-oww!” he grunted, already thinking fast. If the other cat were to sink its fangs too deep, it would all be over. He forced himself to go limp, relaxing his muscles as if in submission, and let out a pretend howl of alarm. The she-cat opened her mouth to give a triumphant yowl. “Ah, a puny apprentice. Easy prey for Yellowfang,” she hissed. At the insult, Firepaw felt a surge of fury. Just wait. He’d show this coughed-up furball what kind of warrior he was! But not yet, he told himself. Wait until you feel her teeth again. Yellowfang bit down. Firepaw surged upward with all the strength in his powerful young body. The she-cat gave a snarl of surprise as she was thrown clear. She tumbled backward into a gorse bush. Firepaw shook himself. “Not such easy prey, huh?” Yellowfang hissed defiance as she tore herself free from the clinging branches. “Not bad, young apprentice,” she spat back. “But you’ll need to do a lot better!” Firepaw blinked when he saw his opponent clearly for the first time. The she-cat had a broad, almost flat face, and round orange eyes. Her dark gray fur was long and matted into smelly clumps. Her ears were torn and ragged, and her muzzle was traced with the scars of many old battles. Firepaw stood his ground. He puffed out his chest and glared a challenge into the intruder’s face. “You’re in ThunderClan’s hunting ground. Move on!” “Who’s going to make me?” Yellowfang drew back her lip defiantly, exposing stained and broken teeth. “I will hunt. Then I will leave. Or maybe I’ll just stay awhile….” “Enough talk,” Firepaw spat, feeling the stir of ancient cat spirits deep inside him. There was no trace of the house cat in him now. His warrior blood was up. He was itching to fight, to defend his territory and protect his Clan. Yellowfang seemed to sense the change in him. Her fierce orange eyes sparked with new respect. Dipping her head and breaking eye contact, she started to back off. “No need to be hasty, now,” she purred in a silky tone. Firepaw wasn’t fooled by her trickery. Claws extended and fur on end, he leaped forward, his war cry ringing out: “Grr-aaar!” With a hiss of rage the other cat responded. Snarling and spitting, young cat and old locked together. They rolled over and over, teeth and claws flashing. Ears pressed flat to his head, Firepaw fought to get a grip. But the she-cat’s clumpy fur snagged in his claws, and he couldn’t break through to skin. Then Yellowfang reared up on her back legs. With her filthy tail bristling, she looked even bigger. Firepaw sensed Yellowfang’s huge jaws lunging toward him. He leaned backward, just in time. Snap! Bared teeth closed on the air next to his ear. Instinctively Firepaw lashed out with a backswipe. His paw caught the side of Yellowfang’s head. The force of it sent shock waves up his front leg. “Yee-ow!” Stunned, Yellowfang dropped onto four paws. She shook her head to clear it. In the single heartbeat before the she-cat recovered, Firepaw saw his chance. He threw himself forward, crouching low, and clamped his jaws tight on Yellowfang’s back leg. “Mur-ugh!” The taste of the matted fur was horrible, but he chomped down hard. “Reow-ow-wow!” Yellowfang screamed in agony and whipped around to snap at Firepaw’s tail. Her teeth connected and pain lanced up Firepaw’s spine, but it only made him angrier. He ripped his tail from his opponent’s grip, and lashed it back and forth in rage. Yellowfang crouched, ready for a fresh attack. Her breath seemed to wheeze up from her foul-smelling lungs. The scent blasted Firepaw’s nose. Up close, the message of desperation and weakness, and the aching void of the she-cat’s hunger, was almost painful. Something stirred inside him, an unwarriorlike feeling he didn’t want: pity. He tried not to dwell on this instinct—he knew his loyalty must be to his Clan—but he couldn’t shake free of it. “You speak from your heart, young Firepaw.” Lionheart’s words echoed in his head once more. “This will make you a stronger warrior one day.” Then Tigerclaw’s warning rang in his ears: “Or it might make him give in to kittypet weakness right at the moment of attack.” Yellowfang lunged forward and Firepaw jerked instantly back into aggression. The bigger cat tried to reach up onto his shoulders and get a killing grip, but this time she was hampered by her wounded leg. “Gar-off!” Firepaw arched his spine, but Yellowfang managed to dig in her claws and hung on tight. The bigger cat’s weight forced him to the ground. Firepaw tasted earth on his tongue and spat out a mouthful of grit. “Pah!” He twisted nimbly to avoid Yellowfang’s thrashing back legs and the thorn-sharp claws that were trying to rake at his soft underbelly. Over and over they rolled, biting and snapping. Moments later they broke apart. Firepaw was gasping for breath now. But he sensed that Yellowfang was weakening. The she-cat was badly wounded, and her back legs could barely support her scrawny body. “Had enough yet?” Firepaw growled. If the intruder gave way, he’d let her go with just a warning bite to remember him by. “Never!” Yellowfang hissed back bravely. But her injured leg gave way and she slumped to the ground. She tried to get up and failed. Her eyes were dull as she hissed up at Firepaw, “If I weren’t so hungry and tired, I’d have shredded you into mousedust.” The she-cat’s mouth twisted in pain and defiance. “Finish me off. I won’t stop you.” Firepaw hesitated. He’d never killed another cat before. Perhaps, in the heat of battle, he would, but a mercy killing, in cold blood? This was something very different. “What are you waiting for?” Yellowfang taunted. “You’re dithering like a kittypet!” Firepaw smarted at the she-cat’s words. Could she smell the scent of Twolegs on him, even now, after all this time? “I’m an apprentice warrior of ThunderClan!” he snapped. Yellowfang narrowed her eyes. She’d seen Firepaw flinch at her words and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Ha,” she snorted. “Don’t tell me ThunderClan is so desperate they have to recruit kittypets now?” “ThunderClan is not desperate!” hissed Firepaw. “Prove it then! Act like a warrior and finish me off. You’ll be doing me a favor.” Firepaw stared at her. He would not be goaded into killing this miserable creature. He felt his muscles relax as curiosity pricked him. How had a Clan cat gotten in such a state? ThunderClan elders were looked after better than kits! “You seem in an awful hurry to die,” he meowed. “Yeah? Well, that’s my business, mousefodder,” Yellowfang snapped. “What’s your problem, kitty? Are you trying to talk me to death?” Her words were brave, but Firepaw could smell the hunger and sickness that were coming off the other cat in waves. She was going to die anyway if she didn’t eat soon. And since she could hardly hunt for herself, perhaps he should kill her now. The two cats looked at each other, uncertainty in both their gazes. “Wait here,” Firepaw ordered at last. Yellowfang seemed to deflate. Her hackles smoothed out and her tail lost its gorse-bush stiffness. “Are you kidding, kitty? I’m going nowhere.” She grunted, limping painfully toward a patch of soft heather. She flopped down and began licking her leg wound. Firepaw glanced briefly over his shoulder at her and hissed quietly in exasperation before heading for the trees. As he padded silently through the ferns, sun-warmed odors filled his nose, and he caught the sour reek of a long-dead rat. He heard the scratching of insects beneath bark, the rustle of furry things scurrying over leaves. His first thought had been to go and dig up the thrush he had killed earlier, but that would take too long. Written by: Erin HunterI don't own any of this!!![/color][/size]
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Oct 2, 2013 16:37:58 GMT -5
Maybe he should go and scoop up the rat carcass. Easy meat, but a starving cat needed fresh-kill. Only when times were very hard would a warrior eat crow food. Just then he paused, scenting a young rabbit ahead. A few more steps and he saw it. Flattening himself down, he stalked the creature. He was barely a mouse-length away before it detected him. By then it was too late. The white bobtail darting away sent the thrill of the chase surging through Firepaw’s veins. A rush of speed, a flash of claws, and he had it. He held the wriggling body fast and finished it off quickly. Yellowfang looked up tiredly as Firepaw dropped the rabbit on the ground beside her. Her grizzled jaw dropped. “Well, hello again, kitty! I thought you’d gone to fetch your little warrior friends.” “Yeah? Well, I might still do that. And don’t call me kitty.” Firepaw growled, shoving the rabbit nearer with his nose. He felt embarrassed by his kindness. “Look, if you don’t want this…” “Ah—no,” Yellowfang meowed hastily. “I do want it.” Firepaw watched the she-cat rip open the prey and start to swallow it down. His own hunger rose up and his mouth filled with water. He knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about eating. He still had to take back enough prey for the Clan, but the fresh-kill smelled delicious. “Mmm-mm.” A few minutes later, Yellowfang gave a huge sigh and flopped onto her side. “First fresh-kill I’ve had for days.” She licked her muzzle clean and settled down to give herself a thorough wash. As if one wash is going to make much difference, Firepaw thought, his nose twitching. She was the arch-cat of stench. He eyed the tattered remnants of the prey. There wasn’t much left to line a growing cat’s belly, but his fight with Yellowfang had sharpened his appetite even more; he gave in to his hunger and gulped down the scraps. It was delicious. He licked his lips, savoring every last taste, tingling from head to paw. Yellowfang watched him closely, showing her stained teeth. “Better than the muck Twolegs feed some of our brothers, isn’t it?” she mewed slyly. Knowing she had found his sore spot, she was trying to antagonize him. Firepaw ignored her and began to wash. “It’s poison,” Yellowfang went on. “Rat droppings! Only a spineless bag of fur would accept such disgusting frogspawn—” She broke off and tensed. “Shhh…warriors coming.” Firepaw was also aware of cats approaching. He could hear their soft paw-fall on the leaf litter and the sound of fur swishing through branches. He smelled the wind brushing against their coats. Familiar smells. These were ThunderClan warriors, confident enough in their own territory not to care about the noise they made. Firepaw licked his lips guiltily, hoping to wash away any traces of the scraps he’d just swallowed. Then he looked at Yellowfang and the fresh pile of rabbit bones that lay beside her. “The Clan must be fed first!” Lionheart’s voice rang though his head once more. But surely he would understand why Firepaw had fed this wretched creature. His mind reeled, suddenly fearful of what would happen to him. His first apprentice task, and he had ended up breaking the warrior code! Chapter 8 Yellowfang growled in defiance at the approaching pawsteps, but Firepaw could sense her panic. The she-cat struggled to her feet. “So long. Thanks for the meal.” She tried to limp away on three legs and then winced in pain. “Nuh! This leg’s stiffened up while I’ve been resting.” Now it was too late for her to run. Silent shadows slipped out of the trees, and in a heartbeat the ThunderClan patrol had encircled Firepaw and Yellowfang. Firepaw recognized them: Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, Willowpelt, and Bluestar, all of them lean and hard-muscled. Firepaw smelled Yellowfang’s fear at the sight of them. Graypaw followed close behind. He bounded out of the bushes and stood beside the warrior patrol. Firepaw mewed a hasty greeting to his Clan. But only Graypaw returned it. “Hi, Firepaw!” he called out. “Silence!” Tigerclaw growled. Firepaw glanced at Yellowfang and groaned inwardly; he could still smell the fear-scent on her, but instead of cowering in submission, the scruffy creature was glaring in defiance. “Firepaw?” Bluestar’s question was cool and measured. “What have we here? An enemy warrior—and recently fed, by the smell of you both.” Her eyes burned into him, and Firepaw dropped his head. “She was weak and hungry…” he began. “And what about you? Was your hunger so bad that you had to feed yourself before you had gathered prey for your Clan?” Bluestar went on. “I assume that you have a very good reason for breaking the warrior code?” Firepaw was not fooled by the leader’s soft tone. Bluestar was furious—and rightly so. He crouched lower to the ground. Before he could speak there was a loud hiss from Tigerclaw. “Once a kittypet, always a kittypet!” Bluestar ignored Tigerclaw and looked instead at Yellowfang. Suddenly she looked surprised. “Well, well, Firepaw! It seems you have captured us a ShadowClan cat. And one I know well. You are ShadowClan’s medicine cat, aren’t you?” she meowed to Yellowfang. “What are you doing so far into ThunderClan territory?” “I was the ShadowClan medicine cat. Now I choose to travel alone,” hissed Yellowfang. Firepaw listened, astonished. Had he heard right? Yellowfang was a ShadowClan warrior? Her filthy condition must have masked her territorial scent. He might have enjoyed tackling her more if he’d known. “Yellowfang!” Tigerclaw meowed mockingly. “It looks like you have fallen on hard times if you can be beaten by an apprentice!” Now Darkstripe spoke. “This old cat is no use to us. Let’s kill her now. As for this kittypet, he has broken the warrior code by feeding an enemy warrior. He should be punished.” “Keep your claws in, Darkstripe,” Bluestar purred calmly. “All the Clans speak of Yellowfang’s bravery and wisdom. It may help us to hear what she has to say. Come; we’ll take her back to camp. Then we’ll decide what to do with her—and with Firepaw. Can you walk?” she asked Yellowfang. “Or do you need help?” “I’ve still got three good legs,” the grizzled she-cat snapped back, limping forward. Firepaw saw that Yellowfang’s eyes were glazed with pain, but she seemed determined not to show any weakness. He noticed a look of respect flicker across Bluestar’s face before the ThunderClan leader turned and slowly led the way through the trees. The other warriors took up positions on either side of Yellowfang, and the patrol moved off, carefully keeping pace with their lame prisoner. Firepaw and Graypaw fell in step together at the back of the group. “Have you heard of Yellowfang?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw. “A bit. Apparently she was a warrior before she became a medicine cat, which is unusual. I can’t imagine her as a loner, though. She has lived her whole life in ShadowClan.” “What’s a loner?” Graypaw glanced at him. “A loner is a cat that isn’t part of a Clan or cared for by Twolegs. Tigerclaw says they are untrustworthy and selfish. They often live around Twoleg dwellings, but belong to no one and catch their own food.” “I might end up a loner once Bluestar has finished with me,” Firepaw mewed. “Bluestar is very fair,” Graypaw reassured him. “She won’t throw you out. She certainly seems pleased to have such an important ShadowClan cat as a prisoner. I’m sure she’s not going to make a fuss about your feeding the poor old mange-bag.” “But they keep moaning about prey being scarce! Oh, why did I eat that rabbit?” Firepaw felt shame burn through his fur. “Well, yeah.” Graypaw nudged his friend. “That was mouse-brained. You really broke the warrior code there, but no cat is perfect!” Firepaw didn’t answer but trekked onward with a heavy heart. This was not the way he had hoped his first solo task would end. As the patrol passed the sentries who guarded the camp entrance, the rest of ThunderClan came running to welcome their warriors home. Queens, kits, and elders crowded on either side. They peered curiously at Yellowfang as she was led into the camp. Some of the elders recognized the old she-cat. Word spread quickly through the Clan that this was ShadowClan’s medicine cat, and a steady jeering hum rose up around them. Yellowfang seemed deaf to the taunts. Firepaw couldn’t help admiring the way she limped with dignity through the corridor of stares and insults. He knew she was in a great deal of pain, and hungry in spite of the rabbit he had caught for her. When the patrol reached the Highrock, Bluestar nodded toward the dusty ground in front of it. Yellowfang followed the ThunderClan leader’s silent command, sinking gratefully onto the earth. Still ignoring the hostile stares around her, she began licking her wounded leg. Firepaw noticed Spottedleaf emerge from her corner. She must have scented the presence of an injured cat in the camp. He watched the crowd part to let the young tortoiseshell through. Yellowfang glared at Spottedleaf and hissed, “I know how to take care of my own wounds. I don’t need your help.” Spottedleaf said nothing but nodded respectfully and stepped back. Some of the cats had been out hunting, and fresh-kill was brought for the returning warriors to eat. They each took some food and carried it away to the nettle patch to eat it. Then the other Clan cats crowded forward to take their own share. Firepaw paced hungrily around the clearing and watched as the cats crouched in their usual groups, chewing and gulping. He longed for a morsel, but didn’t dare to take anything from the pile. He had broken the warrior code. He guessed that this meant he was forbidden his share in the fresh-kill. He paused beside the Highrock where Bluestar was sharing words with Tigerclaw. Uncertain, Firepaw looked to his leader for a signal that he was allowed to eat. But the gray cat and her senior warrior were busy murmuring at one another in low tones. Firepaw wondered if they were talking about him. Desperate to know his fate, he strained his ears to hear what they were saying. Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded impatient. “It’s just too dangerous to bring an enemy warrior into the heart of ThunderClan! Now that she knows the camp, even the youngest ShadowClan kit will hear of it. We will have to move.” “Calm down, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar purred. “Why should we move? Yellowfang says that she is traveling alone now. There is no reason for ShadowClan to hear of it.” “Do you really believe that? What on earth was that foolish kittypet thinking of?” Tigerclaw spat. “But think for a moment, Tigerclaw,” mewed Bluestar. “Why would the ShadowClan medicine cat choose to leave her Clan? You seem to be afraid that Yellowfang will share our Clan secrets with ShadowClan, but have you thought about how many ShadowClan secrets she might share with us?” Firepaw could see by the way Tigerclaw’s fur began to flatten that Bluestar’s words made sense. The warrior nodded briefly, and then stalked off to take his share of the fresh-kill. Bluestar remained where she was. She looked out across the clearing, where some of the younger kits were fighting and tumbling playfully in the dust. Then she stood up and began to walk toward Firepaw. His heart lurched. What was she going to say to him? But Bluestar walked straight past him. She did not even glance at him; her eyes were clouded with unknown distant thoughts. “Frostfur!” she called out as she approached the nursery. A pure white cat with dark blue eyes slipped out of the brambles. Inside, the noise of mewling grew louder. “Hush, kits,” purred the white cat reassuringly. “I won’t be long.” Then she turned to her leader. “Yes, Bluestar? What is it?” “One of our apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.” Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits. At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors. Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth. “Not for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.” Firepaw looked over to Bluestar. She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.” Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body. With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none. Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow. Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg. Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked. “Not yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily. Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing. Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.” Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselves gracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak. “Come on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position. “I’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began. “But there is something else you need to know.” She glanced down at the raddled she-cat who lay very still beside the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?” she asked. “I may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat in reply. Bluestar ignored the prisoner’s hostile tone and continued. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Almost every tree had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats even though we journeyed deep into their heartland.” Her words were met with silence. Firepaw saw confusion in the faces of the Clan cats. “Do you mean ShadowClan has chased them out?” called Smallear hesitantly. “We can’t be sure,” Bluestar meowed. “Certainly the scent of ShadowClan was everywhere. We found blood, too, and fur. There must have been a battle, though we found no bodies from either Clan.” A shocked yowl rose from the crowd in a single voice. Firepaw felt the cats around him stiffen with shock and fury. Never before had one Clan driven another from its hunting grounds. “How can WindClan have been driven out?” One-eye croaked hoarsely. “ShadowClan is fierce, but WindClan is many. They have lived in the uplands for generations. Why have they been chased out now?” She shook her head anxiously, her whiskers trembling. “I don’t know the answers to any of your questions,” meowed Bluestar. “It is well known that ShadowClan has recently appointed a new leader, following the death of Raggedstar. Their new leader, Brokenstar, gave no hint of any threat when we met him at the last Gathering.” “Perhaps Yellowfang has answers?” snarled Darkstripe. “After all, she is of ShadowClan!” “I am no traitor! Nothing would make me share the secrets of ShadowClan with a brute like you!” growled Yellowfang, glaring aggressively at Darkstripe. The ThunderClan warrior moved forward, ears flat, eyes closed to slits, ready for a fight. “Stop!” yowled Bluestar. Darkstripe immediately halted in his tracks, even though Yellowfang goaded him on with blazing eyes and a ferocious hiss. “That’s enough!” Bluestar growled. “This situation is too serious for us to be fighting among ourselves. ThunderClan must prepare itself. From this moonrise onward, warriors will travel in larger groups. Other Clan members will remain close to the camp. Patrols will travel the boundary edges more frequently, and all the kits must stay in the nursery.” The cats below her nodded in agreement. Bluestar continued. “Our need for warriors is our greatest obstacle. We shall get around this by speeding up the training of our apprentices. They need to be ready even sooner to fight for our Clan.” Firepaw saw Dustpaw and Sandpaw exchange a thrilled glance. Graypaw was gazing up at Bluestar, his eyes wide with excitement. Ravenpaw just shuffled his paws anxiously. The black apprentice’s wide eyes showed worry rather than excitement.Bluestar went on. “One young cat has been sharing mentors with Graypaw and Ravenpaw. By teaching him, I shall speed up the training of all three apprentices.” She paused and looked down at her Clan. “I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.” Firepaw opened his eyes wide in amazement. Bluestar was to be his mentor...? Owned and written by Erin Hunter
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Oct 3, 2013 16:39:11 GMT -5
Beside him, Graypaw gasped, unable to hide his surprise. “What an honor! It’s been moons since Bluestar had an apprentice. Usually she trains only the kits of deputies!” Then a familiar voice rose from the front of the crowd. It was Tigerclaw. “So Firepaw is to be rewarded, not punished, for feeding an enemy warrior when he should have been feeding his own Clan?” “Firepaw is my apprentice now. I will deal with him,” answered Bluestar. She stared into Tigerclaw’s fierce eyes for a moment before lifting her head to address the whole Clan once more. “Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages. She is to be treated with respect and courtesy.” “But the Clan cannot support Yellowfang,” Darkstripe protested. “We have too many mouths to feed already.” “Yeah!” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear. “And some of them are bigger than others!” “I don’t need anyone to care for me!” spat Yellowfang. “And I’ll split open anyone who tries!” “Friendly, isn’t she?” Graypaw murmured. Firepaw flicked the tip of his tail in silent agreement. There were muffled meows from the other warriors as they grudgingly recognized the enemy warrior’s fighting spirit. Bluestar ignored the murmuring. “We shall kill two prey with one blow, as it were. Firepaw, as punishment for breaking the warrior code, it will be your responsibility to care for Yellowfang. You will hunt for her and tend her wounds. You will fetch fresh bedding and clear away her dirt.” “Yes, Bluestar,” mewed Firepaw, his head bowed in submission. Clear away her dirt! he thought to himself. Ugh! Mocking yowls came from Dustpaw and Sandpaw. “Good idea!” hissed Dustpaw. “Firepaw had better be good at cracking fleas!” “And hunting!” added Sandpaw. “That sack of bones is going to need feeding up!” “Enough!” Bluestar interrupted them. “I hope Firepaw will find no shame in caring for Yellowfang. She is a healer, and she is his elder. For those reasons alone he should respect her!” She shot a sharp glance at Sandpaw and Dustpaw. “And there is no humiliation in caring for another cat when it is unable to take care of itself. The meeting is over. I would like to speak to my senior warriors alone now.” With that, she jumped down from the Highrock and marched toward her den. Lionheart followed her. The other Clan cats began to move away from the Highrock. One or two congratulated Firepaw on being chosen as Bluestar’s apprentice; others mockingly wished him luck looking after Yellowfang. Firepaw felt so dazed by Bluestar’s announcement that he just nodded blankly. Longtail padded up to him. The v-shaped nick that Firepaw had cut into the tip of his ear still showed. The young warrior drew back his whiskers into an ugly snarl. “Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he sneered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”
Chapter 9
“I’d go and see to Yellowfang, if I were you,” whispered Graypaw, as Longtail strode away. “She’s doesn’t look very happy.” Firepaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was still lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was glaring at him. “Well, here goes,” he mewed. “Wish me luck!” “You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one,” answered Graypaw. “Call out if you need a hand. If she looks like she’s going to have you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.” Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Yellowfang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen. The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet!” Firepaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can call me what you like,” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Bluestar’s orders.” “You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you?” Yellowfang wheezed. She’s tired too, Firepaw thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever. “I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten,” Firepaw replied calmly. “Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?” “Yes, they were.” Firepaw looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner. Yellowfang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!” Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!” Yellowfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide. Firepaw carried on fiercely: “You’re just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!” He stopped as Yellowfang began to make a low, harsh, wheezing sound. Alarmed, Firepaw took a step toward her. The she-cat was trembling all over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. Was she having some kind of a fit? “Look, I didn’t mean…” he began, before he suddenly realized that she was laughing! “Mr-ow, ow-ow,” she mewled, a purr rumbling up from deep inside her chest. Firepaw didn’t know what to do. “You have spirit, kittypet,” Yellowfang croaked, stopping at last. “Now, I’m tired and my leg hurts. I need sleep and something to put on this wound. Go and find that pretty little medicine cat of yours and ask her for some herbs. I think you’ll find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while you’re at it, I wouldn’t mind a few poppy seeds to chew on. The pain is killing me!” Stunned by her change of mood, Firepaw turned quickly and sprinted toward Spottedleaf’s den. He had never been in this part of the camp before. With his ears pricked, he padded through a cool green tunnel of ferns that led into a small grassy clearing. A tall rock stood at one side, split down the middle by a crack wide enough for a cat to make its den inside. Out of this opening trotted Spottedleaf. As usual, she looked bright-eyed and friendly, her dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of amber and brown. Firepaw shyly mewed a greeting, and reeled off Yellowfang’s list of herbs and seeds. “I’ve got most of those in my den,” replied Spottedleaf. “I’ll fetch some marigold leaves too. If she dresses her wound with that, it’ll keep off any infection. Wait here.” “Thanks,” Firepaw mewed as the medicine cat disappeared back into her den. He strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of her inside. But the den was too dark to see anything; he could only hear the sound of rustling and smell the heady scents of unfamiliar herbs. Spottedleaf emerged from the gloom and dropped a bundle folded in leaves by Firepaw’s feet. “Tell Yellowfang to go easy on the poppy seeds. I don’t want her to deaden the pain entirely. A little pain can be useful, as it will help me judge how well she is healing.” Firepaw nodded and picked up the herbs with his teeth. “Thanks, Spottedleaf!” he mewed through the mouthful of leaves, then headed back through the fern tunnel into the main clearing. Tigerclaw was sitting outside the warriors’ den, watching him closely. As Firepaw trotted over to Yellowfang, carrying the herbs, he could feel the amber-eyed stare burning the fur on the back of his neck. He turned his head and looked at Tigerclaw curiously. The warrior narrowed his eyes and looked away. Firepaw dropped the bundle beside Yellowfang. “Good,” she meowed. “Now, before you leave me in peace, find me something to eat. I’m starving!”...
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Post by shawnsousa10 on Oct 6, 2013 9:31:54 GMT -5
;DCouldYOUMAKEMORE
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Post by squirrelflight2 on Jan 27, 2014 14:36:19 GMT -5
Sorry I've been gone for a while. Anyways... The sun had risen three times since Yellowfang had entered the camp. Firepaw woke early and nudged Graypaw, who was still asleep beside him, his nose tucked under his thick tail. “Wake up,” Firepaw mewed. “Or you’ll be late for training.” Graypaw lifted his head sleepily and growled in reluctant agreement. Firepaw prodded Ravenpaw. The black cat opened his eyes immediately and leaped to his feet. “What is it?” he mewed, looking around wildly. “Calm down, Ravenpaw. It’s time for training soon,” Firepaw soothed. Dustpaw and Sandpaw began to stir too, in their mossy nests on the far side of the den. Firepaw stood up and pushed his way out of the ferns. The morning was warm. Firepaw could see a deep blue sky through the leaves and branches that overhung the camp. Today, however, a heavy dew glistened on the fern fronds and sparkled on the grass. Firepaw sniffed the air. Greenleaf was drawing to a close, and soon it would start to feel colder. He lay down and rolled in the earth beside the tree stump, stretching his legs and tipping his head back to rub it on the cool ground. Then he flipped over onto his side, and looked across the clearing to see if Yellowfang was awake yet. She had been given a resting place at the other end of the fallen tree where the elders gathered to eat. Her nest lay tucked against its mossy trunk, out of hearing of the elders, but in full view of the warriors’ den across the clearing. Firepaw could just see a mound of pale gray fur, rising and falling in time to a gentle rumble of sleep. Graypaw trotted out of the den behind him, followed by Sandpaw and Dustpaw. Ravenpaw appeared last, with a nervous glance around the clearing before he emerged fully into the open. “Another day looking after that mangy old fleabag, eh, Firepaw?” mewed Dustpaw. “I bet you wish you were out training with us.” Firepaw sat up and shook the dust from his fur. He wasn’t going to let himself get annoyed by Dustpaw’s taunts. “Don’t worry, Firepaw,” murmured Graypaw. “Bluestar will have you back in training before long.” “Perhaps she thinks a kittypet is better off staying in camp, tending to the sick,” mewed Sandpaw rudely, tossing her sleek ginger head and throwing him a scornful look. Firepaw decided to ignore her barbed comments. “What is Whitestorm teaching you today, Sandpaw?” he mewed. “We’re doing battle training today. He’s going to teach me how a real warrior fights,” Sandpaw replied proudly. “Lionheart’s taking me to the Great Sycamore,” mewed Graypaw, “to practice my climbing. I’d best go. He’ll be waiting.” “I’ll come with you to the top of the ravine,” mewed Firepaw. “I have to catch breakfast for Yellowfang. Coming, Ravenpaw? Tigerclaw must have something planned for you.” Ravenpaw sighed and nodded, then followed Graypaw and Firepaw as they trotted out of the camp. Even though his injury was completely healed, he still seemed to have little enthusiasm for warrior training. “Here,” mewed Firepaw. He dropped a large mouse and a chaffinch onto the ground beside Yellowfang. “About time,” she growled. The she-cat had still been sleeping when Firepaw had entered the camp after his hunting trip. But the smell of fresh-kill must have woken her, for now she had pulled herself into a sitting position. She dropped her head and hungrily gulped down Firepaw’s offerings. She had developed a massive appetite as her strength returned. Her wound was healing well, but her temper remained as fierce and unpredictable as ever. She finished her meal and complained, “The base of my tail itches like fury, but I can’t reach it. Give it a wash, will you?” With an inward shudder, Firepaw crouched down and set to work. As he cracked the plump fleas between his teeth, he noticed a gang of small kits tumbling in the dusty earth nearby. They were mauling each other and play-fighting, sometimes quite viciously. Yellowfang, who had closed her eyes as Firepaw groomed her, half opened one eye to observe the kits as they played. To his surprise, Firepaw felt her spine stiffen beneath his teeth. He listened for a moment to the tiny yelps and squeaks of the kits. “Feel my teeth, Brokenstar!” mewed one small tabby. He leaped onto the back of a little gray-and-white kit, who was pretending to be the ShadowClan leader. The two kits bundled toward the Highrock. Suddenly the gray-and-white kit gave a mighty heave and flung the tabby from his back. With a startled squeak, the little tabby cannoned into Yellowfang’s side. Instantly the old she-cat leaped to her feet, fur on end, spitting violently. “Stay away from me, you scrap of fur!” she hissed. The tabby kit took one look at the furious cat, turned tail, and ran. He hid himself behind a tabby queen, who was staring furiously across the clearing at Yellowfang. The gray-and-white kit froze where he stood. Then, paw by paw, he cautiously backed away toward the safety of the nursery. Yellowfang’s reaction had shocked Firepaw. He thought he’d seen her at her most vicious when they fought after their first meeting, but her eyes burned with a new rage now. “I think the kits are finding it hard being confined to camp,” he mewed cautiously. “They’re getting restless.” “I don’t care how restless they are,” growled Yellowfang. “Just keep them away from me!” “Don’t you like kits?” Firepaw asked, curious in spite of himself. “Did you never have kits of your own?” “Don’t you know medicine cats don’t have kits?” hissed Yellowfang furiously. “But I heard you were a warrior before that,” Firepaw ventured. “I have no kits!” Yellowfang spat. She snatched her tail away from him and sat up. “Anyway”—her voice suddenly lowered, and she sounded almost wistful—“accidents seem to happen to kits when I’m around them.” Her orange eyes clouded with emotion. She laid her chin flat on her forepaws and stared ahead. Firepaw watched her shoulders sink as she released a long, silent sigh. Firepaw looked at her curiously. What could she mean? Was the old she-cat being serious? It was hard to tell; Yellowfang seemed to swing from mood to mood so quickly. He shrugged to himself and went on with the grooming. “There are a couple of ticks I couldn’t pull out,” he told her when he had finished. “I should hope you didn’t even try, you idiot!” snapped Yellowfang. “I don’t want any tick heads embedded in my rear, thank you very much. Ask Spottedleaf for a little mouse bile to rub on them. A splash of that in their breathing holes and they’ll soon loosen their grip.” “I’ll get some now!” Firepaw offered. He was glad of a chance to get away from the grumpy cat for a while. And it was certainly no hardship to go and see Spottedleaf again. He walked toward the fern tunnel. Cats crossed the clearing around him, carrying sticks and twigs in their teeth. While he had been grooming Yellowfang, the camp had grown active. It had been like this every day since Bluestar had announced WindClan’s disappearance. The queens were weaving twigs and leaves into a dense green wall around the sides of the nursery, making sure that the narrow entrance was the only way in and out of the bramble patch. Other cats were working at the edges of the camp, filling in any spaces in the thick undergrowth. Even the elders were busy, scraping out a hole in the ground. Warriors filed steadily past, piling pieces of fresh-kill beside them, ready to be stored inside the newly dug hole. There was an air of quiet concentration, a determination to make the Clan as secure and well supplied as possible. If ShadowClan made a move on their territory, ThunderClan would shelter inside the camp. They would not let themselves be driven from their hunting grounds as easily as WindClan had been. Darkstripe, Longtail, Willowpelt, and Dustpaw were waiting silently at the camp entrance. Their eyes were fixed on the opening to the gorse tunnel. A patrol was just returning, dusty and paw-sore. As soon as the warriors entered the camp, Darkstripe and his companions approached and exchanged words with them. Then they slipped quickly out of the camp. ThunderClan’s borders were not being left unguarded for a moment. Firepaw headed down the fern tunnel that led to Spottedleaf’s den. As he entered the clearing, he could see Spottedleaf was preparing some sweet-smelling herbs. “Can I have some mouse bile for Yellowfang’s ticks?” Firepaw mewed. “In a moment,” replied Spottedleaf, pawing two piles of herbs together and mixing the fragrant heap with one delicately extended claw. “Busy?” Firepaw asked, settling down on a warm patch of earth. “I want to be prepared for any casualties,” Spottedleaf murmured, glancing up at him with her clear amber eyes. Firepaw met her gaze for a moment, then looked away, an uncomfortable feeling prickling his fur. Spottedleaf turned her attention back to the herbs. Firepaw waited, happy to sit quietly and watch her at work. “Right,” she mewed at last. “What was it you wanted? Mouse bile?” “Yes, please.” Firepaw stood up and stretched each back leg in turn. The sun had warmed his fur and made him feel sleepy. Spottedleaf bounded into her den and brought something out. She held it gingerly in her mouth. It was a small wad of moss dangling on the end of a thin strip of bark. She passed it to Firepaw. He tasted her warm, sweet breath as he took the bark strip between his teeth. “The moss is soaked in bile,” Spottedleaf explained. “Don’t get any in your mouth, or you’ll have a foul taste for days. Press it onto the ticks and then wash your paws—in a stream, not with your tongue!” Firepaw nodded and trotted back to Yellowfang, feeling suddenly cheerful and tingling with energy. “Hold still!” he mewed to the old she-cat. Carefully he used his forepaws to press the moss onto each tick. “You may as well clear away my dirt now your paws are already foul!” she meowed when he had finished. “I’m going to take a nap.” She yawned, revealing her blackened and broken teeth. The warmth of the day was making her sleepy, too. “Then you can go and do whatever it is you apprentices do,” she murmured. When Firepaw had cleared away Yellowfang’s dirt, he left her dozing and made his way to the gorse tunnel. He was keen to get to the stream and rinse his paws. “Firepaw!” a voice called from the side of the clearing. Firepaw turned. It was Halftail. “Where are you off to?” meowed the old cat curiously. “You ought to be helping with the preparations.” “I’ve just been putting mouse bile on Yellowfang’s ticks,” replied Firepaw. Amusement flickered through Halftail’s whiskers. “So now you’re off to the nearest stream! Well, don’t come back without fresh-kill. We need as much as we can find.” “Yes, Halftail,” Firepaw replied. He made his way out of the camp and up the side of the ravine. He trotted down to the stream where he and Graypaw had hunted on the day he had found Yellowfang. Without hesitating he jumped down into the cold, clear water. It came up to his haunches, and wet his belly fur. The shock made him gasp, and he shivered. A rustle in the bushes above him made him look up, although the familiar scent that reached his nose told him there was nothing to be alarmed about. “What are you doing in there?” Graypaw and Ravenpaw were standing looking at him as if he were mad. “Mouse bile.” Firepaw grimaced. “Don’t ask! Where are Lionheart and Tigerclaw?” “They’ve gone to join the next patrol,” answered Graypaw. “They ordered us to spend the rest of the afternoon hunting.” “Halftail told me the same thing,” Firepaw mewed, flinching as a chilly current of water rushed around his paws. “Everyone’s busy back at camp. You’d think we were about to be attacked at any moment.” He climbed up onto the bank, dripping. “Who says we won’t be?” mewed Ravenpaw, his eyes flicking from side to side as if he expected an enemy patrol to leap out of the bushes at any time. Firepaw looked at the heap of fresh-kill that was piled beside the two apprentices. “Looks like you’ve done all right today,” he mewed. “Yeah,” mewed Graypaw proudly. “And we’ve still got the rest of the afternoon to hunt. Do you want to join us?” “You bet!” Firepaw purred. He gave himself a final shake, then bounded into the undergrowth after his friends. Firepaw could tell that the cats back at camp were impressed with the amount of prey the three apprentices had managed to catch during their afternoon hunt. They were welcomed back with high tails and friendly nuzzles. It took them four journeys to carry their bumper catch to the storage hole the elders had dug. Lionheart and Tigerclaw had just returned with their patrol as Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw carried their last load into the camp. “Well done, you three,” meowed Lionheart. “I hear you’ve been busy. The store is almost full. You might as well add that last lot to the pile of fresh-kill for tonight. And take some of it back to your den with you. You deserve a feast!” The three apprentices flicked their tails with delight. “I hope you’ve not been neglecting Yellowfang with all this hunting, Firepaw,” Tigerclaw growled warningly. Firepaw shook his head impatiently, eager to get away. He was starving. He had obeyed the warrior code this time and not eaten a morsel while he was hunting for the Clan. Nor had Graypaw or Ravenpaw. They trotted away and dropped the last of their catch on the fresh-kill that already lay at the center of the clearing. Then each of them took a piece and carried it back to their tree stump. The den was empty. “Where are Dustpaw and Sandpaw?” asked Ravenpaw. “They must still be out on patrol,” Firepaw guessed. “Good,” meowed Graypaw. “Peace and quiet.” They ate their fill and lay back to wash. The cool evening air was welcome after the heat of the day. “Hey! Guess what!” mewed Graypaw suddenly. “Ravenpaw managed to squeeze a compliment out of old Tigerclaw this morning!” “Really?” Firepaw gasped. “What on earth did you do to please Tigerclaw—fly?” “Well,” Ravenpaw began shyly, looking at his paws, “I caught a crow.” “How’d you manage that?” Firepaw mewed, impressed. “It was an old one,” Ravenpaw admitted modestly. “But it was huge,” added Graypaw. “Even Tigerclaw couldn’t find fault with that! He’s been in such a bad mood since Bluestar took you on as her apprentice.” He licked his paw thoughtfully for a moment. “Hang on, make that since Lionheart was made deputy.” “He’s just worried about ShadowClan, and the extra patrols,” mewed Ravenpaw, hastily. “You should try not to annoy him.” Their conversation was interrupted by a loud yowl from the other side of the clearing. “Oh, no.” Firepaw groaned, getting to his paws. “I forgot to take Yellowfang her share!” “You wait here,” mewed Graypaw, leaping up. “I’ll take her something.” “No, I’d better go,” Firepaw protested. “This is my punishment, not yours.” “No one will notice,” argued Graypaw. “They’re all busy eating. You know me: quiet as a mouse, quick as a fish. Wait here.” Firepaw sat down again, unable to hide his relief. He watched his friend trot away from the tree stump to the pile of fresh-kill. As if he were carrying out orders, Graypaw confidently picked out two of the juiciest-looking mice. Quickly, he began to pad across the clearing toward Yellowfang. “Stop, Graypaw!” A loud growl rumbled from the entrance to the warriors’ den. Tigerclaw strode out and marched over to Graypaw. “Where are you taking those mice?” he demanded. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Firepaw watched, helpless, from the tree stump. Beside him, Ravenpaw froze midchew and crouched over his meal with his eyes wider than ever. “Umm…” Graypaw dropped the mice and shuffled his paws uncomfortably. “Not helping young Firepaw by feeding that greedy traitor over there, are you?” Firepaw watched Graypaw study his paws for a moment. Finally he replied, “I, er, I was just feeling hungry. I was going to take them off and eat them by myself. If I let that pair get a look in”—he glanced at Firepaw and Ravenpaw—“they’ll leave me with nothing but bones and fur.” “Oh, really?” mewed Tigerclaw. “Well, if you’re so hungry, you might as well eat them here and now!” “But—” Graypaw began, looking up at the senior warrior in alarm. “Now!” growled Tigerclaw. Graypaw bent his head quickly and began to eat the mice. He demolished the first one in a couple of bites and swallowed it quickly. The second mouse took longer for him to eat. Firepaw thought he’d never manage to swallow it, and his own stomach clenched in sympathy, but eventually Graypaw gave a final, difficult gulp and the last bit of mouse disappeared. “Better now?” asked Tigerclaw, his voice smooth with mock sympathy. “Much,” replied Graypaw, stifling a burp. “Good.” Tigerclaw stalked off again, back to his den. Graypaw slunk uncomfortably back to Firepaw and Ravenpaw. “Thanks, Graypaw,” Firepaw mewed gratefully, nudging his friend’s soft fur. “That was quick thinking.” The noise of Yellowfang’s yowl rose into the air once more. Firepaw sighed and got to his paws. He would make sure he took her enough to see her through the night. He wanted to turn in early. His stomach was full and his paws were tired. “Are you okay, Graypaw?” he asked as he turned to leave. “Mrr-ow-ow,” moaned Graypaw. He was hunched into a low crouch, squinting with pain. “I’ve eaten too much!” “Go and see Spottedleaf,” Firepaw suggested. “I’m sure she’ll find something to help.” “I hope so,” mewed Graypaw, tottering slowly away. Firepaw wanted to watch him go, until another angry yowl from Yellowfang sent him sprinting across the clearing.
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Post by maddywolf16 on Jan 31, 2016 5:22:52 GMT -5
Please continue this! Its really good and i miss it!
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:31:33 GMT -5
CHAPTER 10 By the following morning, a thin drizzle soaked the treetops and dripped down into the camp.
Firepaw woke up feeling damp. It had been an uncomfortable night. He stood up and shook himself
vigorously, fluffing out his fur. Then he left the apprentices’ den and trotted across the clearing to
Yellowfang’s nest.
Yellowfang was just stirring. She lifted her head and squinted at Firepaw as he approached. “My bones
ache this morning. Has it been raining all night?”
“Since just after moonhigh,” Firepaw replied. He reached out and prodded her mossy nest cautiously.
“Your bedding is soaking wet. Why don’t you move nearer to the nursery? It’s more sheltered there.”
“What? And be kept awake all night by those mewling kits! I’d rather get wet!” Yellowfang growled.
Firepaw watched her circle stiffly on her mossy bed. “Then at least let me fetch you some dry bedding,”
he offered, keen to drop the subject of kits if it upset the old she-cat so much.
“Thank you, Firepaw,” replied Yellowfang quietly, settling down again.
Firepaw felt stunned. He wondered if Yellowfang was feeling all right. It was the first time she had
thanked him for anything, and the first time she had not called him kittypet.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a startled squirrel; go and fetch some moss!” she snapped.
Firepaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. This was more like the Yellowfang he was used to. He
nodded and sprinted off.
He almost crashed into Speckletail in the middle of the clearing. This was the queen who had watched
Yellowfang’s angry outburst at the tabby kit the day before.
“Sorry, Speckletail,” Firepaw mewed. “Are you on your way to see Yellowfang?”
“What would I want with that unnatural creature?” replied Speckletail crossly. “Actually it’s you I was
looking for. Bluestar wants to see you.”
Firepaw hurried toward the Highrock and Bluestar’s den.
Bluestar was sitting outside, her head bobbing rhythmically as she licked the gray fur below her throat.
She paused when she noticed Firepaw. “How is Yellowfang today?” she meowed.
“Her bedding is wet, so I was going to fetch her more,” Firepaw replied.
“I’ll ask one of the queens to see to that.” Bluestar gave her chest another lick, and then eyed Firepaw
carefully. “Is she fit enough to hunt for herself yet?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” Firepaw meowed, “but she can walk well enough now.”
“I see,” meowed Bluestar. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is time for you to return to your
training, Firepaw. But you’ll need to work hard to make up for time you have lost.”
“Great! I mean, thank you, Bluestar!” Firepaw stammered.
“You will go out with Tigerclaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw this morning,” Bluestar continued. “I’ve
asked Tigerclaw to assess the warrior skills of all our apprentices. Don’t worry about Yellowfang; I’ll make
sure someone sees to her while you are gone.”
Firepaw nodded.
“Now, join your companions,” Bluestar ordered. “I expect they’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Bluestar,” Firepaw mewed. He turned with a flick of his tail and darted toward his den.
Bluestar was right; Graypaw and Ravenpaw were both waiting for him by their favorite tree stump.
Graypaw looked stiff and uncomfortable, his long fur clumped by the dampness of the air. Ravenpaw was
pacing around the tree stump, lost in thought, the white tip of his tail twitching.
“So, you’re joining us today!” Graypaw called as Firepaw approached. “Some day, huh?” He shook
himself roughly to get rid of the clinging wetness.
“Yes. Bluestar told me that Tigerclaw is going to assess us today. Are Sandpaw and Dustpaw coming
too?”
“Whitestorm and Darkstripe took them out on warrior patrol. I suppose Tigerclaw is going to look at
them later,” Graypaw answered.
“Come on! We should get going,” urged Ravenpaw. He had stopped pacing and now hovered beside
them anxiously.
“Fine by me,” mewed Graypaw. “Hopefully some exercise will warm me up a bit!”
The three cats trotted through the gorse track and out of the camp. They hurried to the sandy hollow.
Tigerclaw had not arrived, so they hung around in the shelter of a pine tree, their fur fluffed up against the
chill.
“Are you worried about the assessment?” Firepaw asked Ravenpaw, as the young cat padded backward
and forward with quick, nervous pawsteps. “There’s no need to be. You’re Tigerclaw’s apprentice, after all.
When he reports back to Bluestar, he’s going to want to tell her how good you are.”
“You can never tell with Tigerclaw,” mewed Ravenpaw, still pacing.
“For goodness’ sake, sit down,” Graypaw grumbled. “At this rate you’ll be worn out before we begin!”
By the time Tigerclaw arrived, the sky had changed. The clouds looked less like thick gray fur, and more
like the soft white balls of down that queens used to line the nests of their newborns. Blue skies couldn’t be
far behind, but the breeze that brought the softer clouds carried a fresh chill.
Tigerclaw greeted them briskly and launched straight into the exercise details. “Lionheart and I have
spent the last few weeks trying to teach you how to hunt decently,” he meowed. “Today you’ll have a chance
to show me how much you have learned. Each of you will take a different route and hunt as much prey as
possible. And whatever you catch will be added to the supplies in the camp.”
The three apprentices looked at one another, nervous and excited. Firepaw felt his heart begin to beat
faster at the prospect of a challenge.
“Ravenpaw, you will follow the trail beyond the Great Sycamore as far as the Snakerocks. That should
be easy enough for your pitiful skills. You, Graypaw,” Tigerclaw continued, “will take the route along the
stream, as far as the Thunderpath.”
“Great,” mewed Graypaw. “Wet paws for me!” Tigerclaw’s stare silenced him.
“And finally you, Firepaw. What a shame your great mentor couldn’t be here today to witness your
performance for herself. You shall take the route through the Tallpines, past the Treecut place, to the woods
beyond.”
Firepaw nodded, frantically tracing the route in his head.
“And remember,” Tigerclaw finished, fixing them all with his pale-eyed stare, “I shall be watching all of
you.”
Ravenpaw was the first to sprint away toward the Snakerocks. Tigerclaw took a different track into the
woods, leaving Graypaw and Firepaw alone in the hollow, trying to guess who Tigerclaw would follow first.
“I don’t know why he thinks Snakerocks is an easy route!” mewed Graypaw. “The place is crawling
with adders. Birds and mice stay away from there because there are so many snakes!”
“Ravenpaw’ll have to spend his whole time trying not to get bitten,” Firepaw agreed.
“Oh, he’ll be okay,” mewed Graypaw. “Not even an adder would be fast enough to catch Ravenpaw at
the moment, he’s so jumpy. I’d better get going. See you back here later on. Good luck!”
Graypaw raced off toward the stream. Firepaw paused to sniff the air, then bounded up the side of the
hollow and began to head for the Tallpines.
It felt strange to be going in this direction, toward the Twoleg place he had been raised in. Cautiously
Firepaw crossed the narrow path into the pine forest. He looked through the straight rows of trees, across the
flat forest floor, alert for the sight and scent of prey.
A movement caught his eye. It was a mouse, scrabbling through the pine needles. Remembering his first
lesson, Firepaw dropped into the stalking position, keeping his weight in his haunches, his paws light on the
ground. The technique worked perfectly. The mouse didn’t detect Firepaw until his final leap. He caught it
with one paw and killed it swiftly. Then he buried it, so that he could pick it up on his return journey.
Firepaw traveled a little farther into the Tallpines. The ground here was deeply rutted by the tracks of
the huge Twoleg monster that tore down the trees. Firepaw took a deep breath, his mouth open. The
monster’s acid breath had not touched the air here for a while.
Firepaw followed the deep tracks, jumping across the ruts. They were half-filled with rain, which made
him feel thirsty. He was tempted to stop and take a few mouthfuls, but he hesitated. One lap of that muddy
trench water and he’d taste the monster’s foul-smelling tracks for days.
He decided to wait. Perhaps there would be a rainwater puddle beyond the Tallpines. He hurried onward
through the trees and crossed the Twoleg path on the far boundary.
He was back amid the thick undergrowth of oak woods. He moved onward until he found a puddle and
lapped up a few mouthfuls of the fresh water. Firepaw’s fur began to prickle with some extra awareness. He
recognized sounds and scents familiar from his old watching place on the fence post, and knew instantly
where he was. These were the woods that bordered the Twolegplace. He must be very close to his old home
now.
Ahead Firepaw could smell Twolegs and hear their voices, loud and raucous like crows. It was a group
of young Twolegs, playing in the woods. Firepaw crouched and peered ahead through the ferns. The sounds
were distant enough to be safe. He changed direction, skirting the noises, making sure he was not seen.
Firepaw stayed alert and watchful, but not just for Twolegs—Tigerclaw might be somewhere nearby. He
thought he heard a twig snap in the bushes behind him. He sniffed the air, but smelled nothing new. Was he
being watched now? he wondered.
Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw sensed movement. At first he thought it was Tigerclaw’s dark
brown fur, but then he saw a flash of white. He stopped, crouched, and inhaled deeply. The smell was
unfamiliar; it was a cat, but not a ThunderClan cat. Firepaw felt his fur bristle with the instincts of a Clan
warrior. He would have to chase the intruder out of ThunderClan territory!
Firepaw watched the creature moving through the undergrowth. He could see its outline clearly as it
skittered between the ferns. Firepaw waited for it to wander nearer. He crouched lower, his tail waving back
and forth in slow rhythm. As the black-and-white cat neared, Firepaw rocked his haunches from side to side
as he prepared to spring. One more heartbeat; then he leaped.
The black-and-white cat jumped into the air, terrified, and raced away through the trees. Firepaw gave
chase.
It’s a kittypet! he thought as he raced through the undergrowth, smelling its fear-scent. In my territory!
He was closing in rapidly on the fleeing animal. It had slowed its headlong rush, preparing to scramble up the
wide, mossy trunk of a fallen tree. With the blood roaring in his ears, Firepaw leaped onto its back in a single
bound.
Firepaw could feel the cat struggling beneath him as he gripped on with all his claws. It let out a
desperate and terrified yowl.
Firepaw released his grip and backed away. The black-and-white cat cringed at the foot of the fallen
tree, trembling, and looked up at him. Firepaw lifted his nose, feeling a ripple of disgust at the intruder’s easy
surrender. This soft, plump house cat, with its round eyes and narrow face, looked very different from the
lean, broad-headed cats Firepaw lived with now. And yet something about this cat seemed familiar.
Firepaw stared harder. He sniffed, drawing in the other cat’s scent. I don’t recognize the smell, he
thought, searching his memory.
Then it came to him.
“Smudge!” he meowed out loud.
“H-ho-how d-d-do you know my n-name?” stammered Smudge, still crouching.
“It’s me!” Firepaw meowed.
The house cat looked confused.
“We were kittens together. I lived in the garden next to you!” Firepaw insisted.
“Rusty?” mewled Smudge in disbelief. “Is that you? Did you find the wildcats again? Or are you living
with new housefolk? You must be, if you’re still alive!”
“I’m called Firepaw now,” Firepaw meowed. He relaxed his shoulders and let his fur fall flat into a sleek
orange pelt.
Smudge relaxed too. His ears pricked up. “Firepaw?” he echoed, amused. “Well, Firepaw, it looks like
your new housefolk don’t feed you enough! You certainly weren’t this scrawny last time we met!”
“I don’t need Twolegs to feed me,” Firepaw replied. “I’ve got a whole forest of food to eat.”
“Twolegs?”
“Housefolk. That’s what the Clans call them.”
Smudge looked bewildered for a second; then his expression changed to one of complete astonishment.
“You mean you’re really living with the wildcats?”
“Yes!” Firepaw paused. “You know, you smell…different. Unfamiliar.”
“Unfamiliar?” Smudge echoed. He sniffed. “I suppose you’re used to the smell of those wildcats now.”
Firepaw shook his head, as if to clear his mind. “But we were kittens together. I should know your smell
like I’d know the smell of my birth mother.” Then Firepaw remembered. Smudge had passed six moons. No
wonder he looked so soft and fat, and smelled so strange. “You’ve been to the Cutter!” He gasped. “I mean,
the vet!”
Smudge shrugged his plump black shoulders. “So?” he mewed.
Firepaw was speechless. So Bluestar was right.
“Come on, then! What’s it like, living wild?” Smudge demanded. “Is it as good as you thought it’d be?”
Firepaw thought for a moment: about last night, sleeping in a damp den. He thought about mouse bile
and clearing away Yellowfang’s dirt, and trying to please both Lionheart and Tigerclaw at once during
training. He remembered the teasing he suffered about his kittypet blood. Then he remembered the thrill of
his first catch, of charging through the forest in pursuit of a squirrel, and of warm evenings beneath the stars
sharing tongues with his friends.
“I know who I am now,” he meowed simply.
Smudge tipped his head to one side and stared at Firepaw, clearly confused. “I should be getting home,”
he mewed. “Mealtime soon.”
“Go carefully, Smudge.” Firepaw leaned forward and gave his old friend an affectionate lick between
the ears. Smudge nuzzled him in return. “And stay alert. There may be another cat in the area who is not as
fond of kittypets—I mean, house cats—as I am.”
Smudge’s ears flicked nervously at these words. He looked around cautiously and leaped up onto the
trunk of the fallen tree. “Good-bye, Rusty,” he mewed. “I’ll tell everyone at home that you’re okay!”
“’Bye, Smudge,” meowed Firepaw. “Enjoy your meal!”
He watched the white tip of Smudge’s tail disappear over the edge of the tree. In the distance he could
hear the rattle of dried food being shaken, and a Twoleg voice calling.
Firepaw turned, his tail high, and started back toward his own home, sniffing the air as he went. I’ll find
a finch or two here, he decided. Then I’ll catch something else on the way back through the pines. He felt
bursting with energy after meeting Smudge and realizing just how lucky he was to live in the Clan.
He looked up at the branches above him and began to stalk silently across the forest floor, every sense
alert. Now he just needed to impress Bluestar and Tigerclaw, and the day would be perfect.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:37:26 GMT -5
CHAPTER 11
Firepaw returned with a chaffinch gripped firmly between his teeth. He dropped it in front of Tigerclaw, who
stood waiting in the hollow.
“You’re the first one back,” meowed the warrior.
“Yeah, but I’ve got loads more prey to fetch,” Firepaw mewed quickly. “I buried it back—”
“I know exactly what you did,” Tigerclaw growled. “I’ve been watching you.”
A swish of bushes announced Graypaw’s return. He was carrying a small squirrel in his mouth, which he
dropped beside Firepaw’s chaffinch. “Yuck!” he spat. “Squirrels are too furry. I’ll be picking hairs out of my
teeth all evening.”
Tigerclaw paid no attention to Graypaw’s grumbling. “Ravenpaw’s late,” he observed. “We’ll give him
a bit longer and then return to camp.”
“But what if he’s been bitten by an adder?” Firepaw protested.
“Then it’s his own fault,” Tigerclaw replied coldly. “There’s no room for fools in ThunderClan.”
They waited in silence. Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged glances, worried about Ravenpaw. Tigerclaw
sat motionless, apparently lost in his own thoughts.
Firepaw was the first to scent Ravenpaw’s arrival. He jumped to his paws as the black cat leaped into
the clearing, looking unusually pleased with himself. Dangling from his mouth was the long, diamondpatterned
body of an adder.
“Ravenpaw! Are you okay?” Firepaw called.
“Hey!” meowed Graypaw, rushing forward to admire Ravenpaw’s catch. “Did that bite you?”
“I was too quick for it!” Ravenpaw purred loudly. Then he caught Tigerclaw’s eye and fell silent.
Tigerclaw fixed all three excited apprentices with a cold stare. “Come on,” he said shortly. “Let’s
collect the rest of your prey and get back to camp.”
Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw entered the camp, strolling behind Tigerclaw. Their impressive day’s
catch hung from their mouths, although Ravenpaw kept tripping over his dead snake. As they emerged from
the gorse into the camp, a group of young kits scrambled out of the nursery to watch them pass.
“Look!” Firepaw heard one of them say. “Apprentices, just back from hunting!” He recognized the little
tabby Yellowfang had hissed at the day before. Sitting next to him was a fluffy gray kit, no more than two
moons old. A tiny black kit and a small tortoiseshell stood beside them.
“Isn’t that the kittypet, Firepaw?” squeaked the gray kit.
“Yeah! Look at his orange fur!” mewed the black one.
“They say he’s a good hunter,” the tortoiseshell added. “He looks a bit like Lionheart. Do you suppose
he’s as good as him?”
“I can’t wait to start my training,” mewed the tabby. “I’m going to be the best warrior ThunderClan has
ever seen!”
Firepaw lifted his chin, feeling proud at the kits’ admiring comments. He followed his two friends into
the center of the clearing.
“An adder!” Graypaw mewed again, as the apprentices dropped their catch for the other cats to share.
“What shall I do with it?” asked Ravenpaw, sniffing the snake’s long body as it lay beside the heap.
“Can you eat adders?” asked Graypaw.
“Trust you to think of your stomach!” Firepaw joked, butting Graypaw with his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to eat it,” murmured Ravenpaw. “I mean, my mouth tastes pretty foul after
carrying it back.”
“Let’s put it on the tree stump, then,” suggested Graypaw, “so that Dustpaw and Sandpaw can see it
when they get back.”
They each carried a piece of their fresh-kill, and the adder, back to their den. Graypaw carefully placed
the adder on the stump, arranging the snake so that it could be seen clearly from all sides. Then they ate.
When they had finished they sat close together to groom one another and talk.
“I wonder who Bluestar will choose to go to the Gathering?” Firepaw meowed. “It’ll be full moon
tomorrow.”
“Sandpaw and Dustpaw have been twice already,” replied Graypaw.
“Perhaps Bluestar will choose one of us this time,” mewed Firepaw. “After all, we’ve been training for
almost three moons now.”
“But Sandpaw and Dustpaw are still the eldest apprentices,” Ravenpaw pointed out.
Firepaw nodded. “And this Gathering will be an important one. It’ll be the first time the Clans have met
since WindClan disappeared. No cat knows what ShadowClan is going to say about it.”
Tigerclaw’s low meow interrupted them. “You are right, youngster.” The warrior had strolled up to them
unnoticed. “By the way, Firepaw,” he added smoothly, “Bluestar wants to see you.”
Firepaw looked up, startled. Why would Bluestar want to see him?
“Now—if you can spare the time,” Tigerclaw meowed.
Firepaw jumped up immediately and bounded off across the clearing toward Bluestar’s den.
Bluestar was sitting outside, her tail flicking restlessly back and forth. When she saw Firepaw she stood
up and looked steadily down at him. “Tigerclaw has told me that he saw you talking with a cat from the
Twolegplace today,” she meowed quietly.
“But—” Firepaw began.
“He said that you began by fighting with this cat but ended up sharing tongues with it.”
“That’s true,” Firepaw admitted, feeling his fur prickle defensively. “But he was an old friend. We grew
up together.” He paused and swallowed. “When I was a kittypet.”
Bluestar looked at him for a long moment. “Do you miss your old life, Firepaw?” she asked. “Think
carefully, now.”
“No.” How can Bluestar think that? Firepaw wondered. His head was spinning. What was Bluestar
trying to make him say?
“Do you wish to leave the Clan?”
“Of course not!” Firepaw was shocked by her question.
Bluestar didn’t seem to hear the passion in his answer. She shook her head, looking suddenly old and
tired. “I won’t judge you if you leave us, Firepaw. Perhaps I expected too much of you. Perhaps my judgment
has been clouded by the Clan’s need for new warriors.”
Panic swept through Firepaw at the thought of leaving the Clan forever. “But my place is here! This is
my home,” he protested.
“I need more than that, Firepaw. I need to be able to trust in your loyalty to ThunderClan, especially
now that it looks like ShadowClan is planning an attack. We don’t have room for anyone who isn’t sure
whether their heart lies in the past or the present.”
Firepaw took a deep breath and chose his next words carefully. “When I saw Smudge today—that’s the
house cat Tigerclaw saw me talking with—I saw what life would have been like if I had stayed with the
Twolegs. I felt happy that I had not stayed. I was proud I left.” He held Bluestar’s gaze without flinching.
“Meeting Smudge made me certain I made the right decision. I could never have been satisfied with the soft
life of a kittypet.”
Bluestar looked closely at him for a moment, her eyes narrow. Then she nodded. “Very well,” she said.
“I believe you.”
Firepaw dipped his head respectfully and let out a silent sigh of relief.
“I spoke to Yellowfang earlier,” meowed Bluestar in a lighter tone. “She thinks a lot of you. She’s a
wise old she-cat, you know. And I suspect she wasn’t always bad-tempered. Indeed, I think that I could grow
to like her.”
Firepaw felt an unexpected glow of pleasure at these words. Maybe, in caring for Yellowfang, his
admiration for her had grown into affection, despite the she-cat’s ill temper. Whatever the reason, he was
glad Bluestar liked her too.
“But there is something about her that I don’t trust,” Bluestar went on quietly. “She will stay with
ThunderClan for now, but remain as a prisoner. The queens will care for her. You must concentrate on your
training.”
Firepaw nodded and waited to be dismissed, but Bluestar hadn’t finished. “Firepaw, although you
showed bad judgment today in talking to a house cat, Tigerclaw was impressed by your hunting skills. In fact,
he reported that you all did well. I am pleased with your progress. You will come to the Gathering—all three
of you.”
Firepaw could hardly stand still. His body tingled with excitement. The Gathering! “What about
Sandpaw and Dustpaw?” he mewed.
“They will remain behind and guard the camp,” replied Bluestar. “Now you may go.” She flicked her
long tail to show he was dismissed, and returned to her grooming.
Graypaw and Ravenpaw looked stunned to see Firepaw bounding happily toward them. They had been
waiting nervously for him beside the tree stump. Firepaw sat down and looked at his friends.
“Well?” Graypaw demanded. “What did she say?”
“Tigerclaw told us you’d been sharing tongues with a kittypet this morning,” burst out Ravenpaw. “Are
you in trouble?”
“No. Although Bluestar wasn’t pleased,” Firepaw admitted ruefully. “She thought I might want to leave
ThunderClan.”
“You don’t, do you?” asked Ravenpaw.
“Of course he doesn’t!” mewed Graypaw.
Firepaw gave his gray friend an affectionate swipe. “Yeah, you’d hate that. You need me to catch mice
for you! All you can catch these days are hairy old squirrels!”
Graypaw dodged out of the way of Firepaw’s blow, and reared up on his back legs to retaliate.
“You’ll never guess what else she said!” Firepaw went on. He was too excited to waste time
play-fighting.
Graypaw immediately dropped back onto all four paws. “What?” he asked.
“We’re going to the Gathering!”
Graypaw let out a yowl of delight and bounded up onto the tree stump. One of his back paws knocked
the adder flying. It hit Ravenpaw on the head and wrapped itself around his neck.
Ravenpaw spat with alarm and surprise, and then turned on Graypaw. “Watch it!” he hissed crossly. He
shook the adder onto the ground.
“Scared it might try to bite you?” Firepaw teased. He crouched down, hissing, and sidled up to
Ravenpaw.
Ravenpaw twitched his whiskers and retorted, “Some snake you’d make!” He leaped onto Firepaw and
rolled him easily onto his back.
Graypaw reached down from the tree stump and gave Ravenpaw’s tail a tug. As Ravenpaw turned to
thump Graypaw with a soft forepaw, Firepaw jumped to his feet and leaped into them both, sending Graypaw
flying from the stump. All three cats tumbled into the dirt and tussled on the ground. Finally they fell apart
and settled themselves, panting, beside the tree stump.
“Are Sandpaw and Dustpaw coming too?” puffed Graypaw.
“Nope!” Firepaw replied, unable to disguise the note of triumph in his voice. “They have to stay behind
and guard the camp.”
“Oh, let me tell them!” begged Graypaw. “I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces!”
“Me neither!” Firepaw agreed. “I can’t believe we’re going instead of them! Especially after Tigerclaw
saw me with Smudge today!”
“That was just bad luck,” answered Graypaw. “We all caught a load of prey in the assessment. That
must be what decided it.”
“I wonder what the Gathering will be like,” mewed Ravenpaw.
“It’ll be fantastic,” Graypaw replied confidently. “I bet all the great warriors will be there. Clawface,
Stonefur…”
But Firepaw wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, he found himself thinking about Tigerclaw and Smudge.
Graypaw was right—it was bad luck that the great warrior had been observing him when he had met his old
friend. Why couldn’t he have been watching Graypaw or Ravenpaw instead? In fact, it was bad luck that
Tigerclaw had sent him so near the Twolegplace at all.
Suddenly a dark thought entered Firepaw’s mind: Why had Tigerclaw sent him so near his old haunts?
Had he wanted to test him? Could it be the great dark warrior didn’t trust his loyalty to ThunderClan?
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:42:04 GMT -5
CHAPTER 12
Firepaw peered over the brow of a bush-covered slope. Graypaw and Ravenpaw crouched beside him. Next
to them a group of ThunderClan elders, queens, and warriors waited in the undergrowth for Bluestar to give
the signal.
Firepaw had not been to this place since his first journey with Lionheart and Tigerclaw. The steep-sided
glade looked different now. The rich greenness of the woods had been bleached away by the cold light of the
full moon, and the leaves on the trees glowed silver. At the bottom stood the large oaks that marked where
the corner of each Clan’s territory touched the other three.
The air was thick with the warm scents of cats from the other Clans. Firepaw could see them quite
clearly in the moonlight, moving about below in the grassy clearing that lay between the four oaks. In the
center of the clearing, a large, jagged rock rose from the forest floor like a broken tooth.
“Look at all those cats down there!” hissed Ravenpaw under his breath.
“There’s Crookedstar!” Graypaw hissed back. “RiverClan’s leader.”
“Where?” Firepaw mewed, nudging Graypaw impatiently.
“That light-colored tabby, beside the Great Rock.”
Firepaw followed Graypaw’s nod and saw a huge tom, even bigger than Lionheart, sitting at the center
of the clearing. His striped coat shone pale in the moonlight. Even from this distance, his old face showed the
signs of a harsh life, and his mouth looked twisted, as if it had once been broken and had healed badly.
“Hey!” mewed Graypaw. “Did you see Sandpaw spit when I told her I hoped she had a nice evening at
home?”
“You bet!” Firepaw purred.
Ravenpaw interrupted them with a muffled growl. “Look! There’s Brokenstar—ShadowClan’s leader,”
he hissed.
Firepaw looked down at the dark brown tabby. His fur was unusually long and his face was broad and
flattened. There was a stillness in the way he sat and stared around him that made Firepaw’s fur prickle
uncomfortably.
“He looks pretty nasty,” Firepaw muttered.
“Yeah,” agreed Graypaw. “He’s certainly got a reputation among all the Clans for not suffering fools
gladly. And he’s not been leader that long—four moons, ever since his father, Raggedstar, died.”
“What does the leader of WindClan look like?” Firepaw asked.
“Tallstar? I’ve never seen him, but I know he’s black and white with a very long tail,” answered
Graypaw.
“Can you see him now?” asked Ravenpaw.
Graypaw peered down, searching the crowd of cats below. “Nope!”
“Can you scent any WindClan cats?” Firepaw asked.
Graypaw shook his head. “No.”
Lionheart’s meow sounded softly beside them. “The WindClan cats may just be late.”
“But what if they don’t turn up at all?” mewed Graypaw.
“Hush! We must all be patient. These are difficult times. Now keep quiet. Bluestar will give the signal to
move soon,” Lionheart meowed quietly.
As he spoke, Bluestar stood, and, holding her tail high, flicked it from one side to the other. Firepaw’s
heart missed a beat as the ThunderClan cats rose as one and bounded through the bushes, down toward the
meeting place. He raced alongside them, feeling the wind rush in his ears and his paws tingle with
anticipation.
The ThunderClan cats paused instinctively on the edge of the clearing, outside the boundary of the oaks.
Bluestar sniffed the air. Then she nodded and the troop moved forward into the clearing.
Firepaw felt thrilled. The other cats looked even more impressive close up, milling about the Great
Rock. A large white warrior strode past. Firepaw and Ravenpaw looked at him in awe.
“Look at his paws!” Ravenpaw murmured.
Firepaw looked down and realized the huge paws of this great tom were jet black.
“It must be Blackfoot,” mewed Grewpaw. “ShadowClan’s new deputy.”
Blackfoot stalked over to Brokenstar and sat down beside him. The ShadowClan leader acknowledged
him with a twitch of one ear, but said nothing.
“When does the meeting begin?” Ravenpaw asked Whitestorm.
“Be patient, Ravenpaw,” he answered. “The sky is clear tonight, so we have plenty of time.”
Lionheart leaned over and added, “We warriors like to spend a little time boasting about our victories,
while the elders swap tales about the ancient days before the Twolegs came here.” All three apprentices
looked up at him and saw his whiskers twitch mischievously.
Dappletail, One-eye, and Smallear headed straight off toward a group of elderly cats who were settling
themselves below one of the oak trees. Whitestorm and Lionheart strolled over to another pair of warriors
whom Firepaw did not know. He sniffed the air and recognized their scent as RiverClan.
Bluestar’s voice sounded behind the three apprentices. “Don’t waste any of your time tonight,” she
warned. “This is a good opportunity to meet your enemies. Listen to them; remember what they look like and
how they behave. There is a great deal to be learned from these meetings.”
“And say little,” warned Tigerclaw. “Don’t give anything away that might be used against us once the
moon has waned.”
“Don’t worry; we won’t!” Firepaw promised hastily, looking into Tigerclaw’s eyes. The feeling that
Tigerclaw didn’t trust his loyalty lingered with him still.
The two warriors nodded and moved on, and the apprentices were left alone. They looked at each other.
“What do we do now?” Firepaw asked.
“What they said,” replied Ravenpaw. “Listen.”
“And don’t say too much,” Graypaw added.
Firepaw nodded gravely. “I’m going to see where Tigerclaw went,” he mewed.
“Well, I’m going to find Lionheart,” mewed Graypaw. “You coming, Ravenpaw?”
“No, thanks,” Ravenpaw replied. “I’m going to find some of the other apprentices.”
“Okay, we’ll meet up later,” mewed Firepaw, and he trotted in the direction Tigerclaw had taken.
He scented Tigerclaw easily and found him sitting at the center of a group of huge warriors, behind the
Great Rock. Tigerclaw was speaking.
It was a tale Firepaw had heard many times at camp. Tigerclaw was describing his recent battle against
the RiverClan hunting party. “I wrestled like a LionClan cat. Three warriors tried to hold me but I threw them
off. I fought them until two lay knocked out and the other had run off into the forest like a kit crying for its
mother.”
This time Tigerclaw didn’t mention killing Oakheart in vengeance for Redtail’s death. Perhaps it’s so he
doesn’t offend the RiverClan warriors, Firepaw decided.
Firepaw listened politely to the end of the story, but a familiar scent was distracting him. As soon as
Tigerclaw had finished speaking, Firepaw turned and crept away toward the sweet smell, which was coming
from a group of cats nearby.
He found Graypaw sitting among these cats, but that was not the scent he had been following. Sitting
opposite Graypaw, between two RiverClan toms, was Spottedleaf. Firepaw glanced at her shyly and settled
himself beside his friend.
“Still no scent of WindClan,” he mewed to Graypaw.
“The meeting hasn’t begun yet; they may still come,” replied his friend. “Look, there’s Runningnose.
He’s the new ShadowClan medicine cat, apparently.” He nodded toward a small gray-and-white cat at the
center of the group.
“I can see why they call him Runningnose,” Firepaw remarked. The medicine cat’s nose was wet at the
tip and encrusted around the edges.
“Yep,” replied Graypaw with a scornful growl. “I can’t see why they appointed him when he can’t even
cure his own cold!”
Runningnose was telling the cats about a herb that medicine cats had used in the old days to cure kittencough.
“Since the Twolegs came and filled the place with hard earth and strange flowers,” he complained in a
high-pitched yowl, “the herb has disappeared, and kittens die needlessly in cold weather.”
The cats gathered around him yowled their disapproval.
“It never would have happened in the time of the great Clan cats,” growled a black RiverClan queen.
“Indeed,” mewled a silver tabby. “The great cats would have killed any Twolegs that dared enter their
territory. If TigerClan roamed this forest still, Twolegs would not have built this far into our land.”
Then Firepaw heard Spottedleaf’s quiet mew. “If TigerClan still roamed these forests, we would hardly
have made our territory here, either.”
“What’s TigerClan?” mewed a small voice beside them. Firepaw noticed a little tabby apprentice from
one of the other Clans sitting beside him.
“TigerClan is one of the great cat Clans that used to roam the forest,” Graypaw explained quietly.
“TigerClan is cats of the night, big as horses, with jet-black stripes. Then there is LionClan. They’re…”
Graypaw hesitated, frowning as he tried to remember.
“Oh! I’ve heard of them,” mewed the tabby. “They were as big as TigerClan cats, with yellow fur and
golden manes like rays of the sun.”
Graypaw nodded. “And then there is the other one, SpottyClan or something like that….”
“I suspect you’re thinking of LeopardClan, young Graypaw,” meowed a voice from behind them.
“Lionheart!” Graypaw greeted his mentor with an affectionate touch of his nose.
Lionheart shook his head in mock despair. “Don’t you youngsters know your history? LeopardClan are
the swiftest cats, huge and golden, spotted with black pawprints. You can thank LeopardClan for the speed
and hunting skills you now possess.”
“Thank them? Why?” asked the tabby.
Lionheart gazed down at the little apprentice and answered, “There is a trace of all the great cats in
every cat today. We would not be night hunters without our TigerClan ancestors, and our love of the sun’s
warmth comes from LionClan.” He paused. “You are a ShadowClan apprentice, aren’t you? How many
moons are you?”
The tabby stared awkwardly down at the ground. “S-six moons,” he stammered, not meeting
Lionheart’s eye.
“Rather small for six moons,” Lionheart murmured. His tone was gentle, but his gaze was searching and
serious.
“My mother was small too,” answered the tabby nervously. He bowed his head and backed away,
disappearing into the crowd of cats with a twitch of his light brown tail.
Lionheart turned to Firepaw and Graypaw. “Well, he might be small, but at least he was curious. If only
you two showed as much interest in the stories your elders tell!”
“Sorry, Lionheart,” Firepaw and Graypaw mewed, exchanging doubtful glances.
Lionheart grunted good-naturedly. “Oh, go away, the pair of you! Next time I hope Bluestar decides to
bring apprentices who appreciate what they hear.” And with a half-hearted growl he chased them away from
the group. “Come on,” purred Graypaw as they leaped away. “Let’s see where Ravenpaw’s gotten to.”
Ravenpaw was in the middle of a group of apprentices who were clamoring for him to tell them about
the battle with RiverClan.
“Go on, Ravenpaw; tell us what happened!” called a pretty black-and-white she-cat.
Ravenpaw shyly shuffled his paws and shook his head.
“Come on, Ravenpaw!” insisted another.
Ravenpaw looked around and saw Firepaw and Graypaw at the edge of the crowd. Firepaw nodded
encouragingly. Ravenpaw flicked his tail in acknowledgment and began his story.
He stumbled a bit at first, but as he continued, the tremor disappeared from his voice and his audience
leaned in, their eyes growing wider.
“Fur was flying everywhere. Blood spattered the leaves of the bramble bushes, bright red against green.
I’d just fought off a huge warrior and sent him squealing into the bushes when the ground shook, and I heard
a warrior scream. It was Oakheart! Redtail raced past me, his mouth dripping blood and his fur torn.
‘Oakheart is dead!’ he howled. Then he rushed off to help Tigerclaw as he fought another warrior.”
“Who would have thought Ravenpaw was such a good storyteller,” Graypaw murmured to Firepaw,
sounding impressed.
But Firepaw was thinking of something else. What was it Ravenpaw had said? That Redtail had killed
Oakheart? But according to Tigerclaw, Oakheart had killed Redtail and he, Tigerclaw, had killed Oakheart in
revenge.
“If Redtail killed Oakheart, who killed Redtail?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.
“If who did what?” Graypaw echoed absentmindedly. He was only half listening to Firepaw.
Firepaw shook his head to clear it. Ravenpaw must have been mistaken, he thought. He must have
meant Tigerclaw.
Ravenpaw was coming to the end of his story. “Finally, Redtail dragged the wailing cat off Tigerclaw by
his tail and, with the strength of the whole of TigerClan, flung him into the bushes.”
A moving shadow caught Firepaw’s eye. He glanced around and saw Tigerclaw standing a short
distance away. The warrior was watching Ravenpaw with an iron stare. Unaware of his mentor’s presence,
Ravenpaw continued to answer question after question from his enthusiastic audience.
“What were Oakheart’s dying words?”
“Is it true that Oakheart had never lost a battle before?”
Ravenpaw replied promptly, with his voice high and clear and his eyes shining. But when Firepaw
glanced back at Tigerclaw, he saw a look of horror and then fury creep over the warrior’s face. Clearly
Tigerclaw wasn’t enjoying Ravenpaw’s story at all.
Firepaw was just about to say something to Graypaw when a loud yowl signaled to all the cats for quiet.
Firepaw couldn’t help feeling relieved as Ravenpaw fell silent at last, and Tigerclaw turned away.
Firepaw looked up to see where the yowl had come from. Three cats sat silhouetted against the moonlit
sky on top of the Great Rock. They were Bluestar, Brokenstar, and Crookedstar.
The Clan leaders were about to begin the meeting. But where was the WindClan leader?
“Surely they won’t start the meeting without Tallstar?”
Firepaw hissed under his breath.
“I don’t know,” Graypaw muttered back.
“Haven’t you noticed? There isn’t a single WindClan cat here,” whispered a RiverClan apprentice on
the other side of Firepaw.
Firepaw guessed that similar conversations were going on all around him. As the other cats were
gathering beneath the Great Rock, an unsettled murmuring rumbled in their throats.
“We can’t start yet,” yowled one voice above the noise. “Where are the WindClan representatives? We
must wait until all the Clans are present.”
On top of the rock, Bluestar stepped forward. Her gray fur glowed almost white in the moonlight. “Cats
of all Clans, welcome,” she meowed in a clear voice. “It is true that WindClan is not present, but Brokenstar
wishes to speak anyway.”
Brokenstar padded noiselessly up to stand beside Bluestar. He surveyed the crowd for a few moments,
his orange eyes burning. Then he took a deep breath and began. “Friends, I come to speak to you tonight
about the needs of ShadowClan—”
But he was interrupted by raised, impatient voices from below.
“Where is Tallstar?” cried one.
“Where are the WindClan warriors?” yowled another.
Brokenstar stretched up to his full height and lashed his tail from side to side. “As the leader of
ShadowClan, it is my right to address you here!” he growled in a voice full of menace. The crowd fell into an
uneasy silence. All around him, Firepaw could smell the acrid tang of fear.
Brokenstar yowled again. “We all know that the hard time of leaf-bare, and late newleaf, have left us
with little prey in our hunting grounds. But we also know that WindClan, RiverClan, and ThunderClan lost
many kits in the freezing weather that came so late this season. ShadowClan did not lose kits. We are
hardened to the cold north wind. Our kits are stronger than yours from the moment they are born. And so we
find ourselves with many mouths to feed, and too little prey to feed them.”
The crowd, still silent, listened anxiously.
“The needs of ShadowClan are simple. In order to survive, we must increase our hunting territory. That
is why I insist that you allow ShadowClan warriors to hunt in your territories.”
A shocked but muted growl rippled through the crowd.
“Share our hunting grounds?” called the outraged voice of Tigerclaw.
“It is unprecedented!” cried a tortoiseshell queen from RiverClan. “The Clans have never shared
hunting rights!”
“Should ShadowClan be punished because our kits thrive?” yowled Brokenstar from the Great Rock.
“Do you want us to watch our young starve? You must share what you have with us.”
“Must!” spat Smallear furiously from the back of the crowd.
“Must,” repeated Brokenstar. “WindClan failed to understand this. In the end, we were forced to drive
them out of their territory.”
Snarls of outrage burst from the crowd, but Brokenstar’s caterwaul rang loud above them: “And, if we
have to, we will drive you all from your hunting grounds in order to feed our hungry kits.”
There was instant silence. On the other side of the clearing, Firepaw heard a RiverClan apprentice start
to mutter something, but he was quickly hushed by an elder.
Satisfied that he had every cat’s attention, Brokenstar continued. “Each year, the Twolegs spoil more of
our territory. At least one Clan must remain strong, if all the Clans are to survive. ShadowClan thrives while
you all struggle. And there may come a time when you will need us to protect you.”
“You doubt our strength?” hissed Tigerclaw. His pale eyes glared threateningly at the ShadowClan
leader, and his powerful shoulders rippled with tension.
“I do not ask for your answer now.” Brokenstar ignored the warrior’s challenge. “You must each go
away and consider my words. But bear this in mind: Would you prefer to share your prey, or be driven out
and left homeless and starving?”
Warriors, elders, and apprentices looked at one another in disbelief. In the anxious pause that followed,
Crookedstar stepped forward. “I have already agreed to allow ShadowClan some hunting rights in the river
that runs through our territory,” he meowed quietly, gazing down on his Clan.
Horror and humiliation rippled through the RiverClan cats at their leader’s words.
“We were not consulted!” cried a grizzled silver tabby.
“I feel that this is best for our Clan. For all the Clans,” Crookedstar explained, his voice heavy with
resignation. “There are plenty of fish in the river. It is better to share our prey than to spill blood fighting over
it.”
“And what of ThunderClan?” Smallear croaked. “Bluestar? Have you, too, agreed to this outrageous
demand?”
Bluestar unwaveringly met the old cat’s gaze. “I have made no agreement with Brokenstar except that I
shall discuss his proposal with my Clan after the Gathering.”
“Well, at least that’s something,” muttered Graypaw in Firepaw’s ear. “We’ll show them we’re not as
soft as that yellow-bellied RiverClan.”
Brokenstar spoke up again, his rasping voice sounding arrogant and strong after Crookedstar’s
surrender. “I also bring news that is important to the safety of your kits. A ShadowClan cat has turned rogue
and spurned the warrior code. We chased her out of our camp, but we do not know where she is now. She
looks a mangy old creature, but she has a bite like TigerClan.”
Firepaw’s fur bristled. Could Brokenstar possibly be talking about Yellowfang? He pricked up his ears,
curious to hear more.
“She is dangerous. I warn you—do not offer shelter to her. And”—Brokenstar paused dramatically
—“until she is caught and killed, I urge you to keep a close eye on your kits.”
Firepaw knew from the nervous growl that rumbled in the throats of the ThunderClan cats that they,
too, had thought of Yellowfang. The bold she-cat had done nothing to endear herself to her reluctant hosts,
and Firepaw guessed it wouldn’t take much to drum up hatred against her—even the words of a despised
enemy like Brokenstar would be enough.
The ShadowClan warriors began to push their way out of the throng of cats. Brokenstar leaped down
from the rock, and his warriors immediately surrounded him and escorted him away from Fourtrees, back into
ShadowClan territory. The remaining ShadowClan cats followed quickly behind, including the undersize
tabby Lionheart had questioned earlier. But among the other ShadowClan apprentices, the tabby no longer
looked unusually small—they all looked tiny and undernourished, more like kits of three or four moons than
full-fledged apprentices.
“What do you think of all that?” Graypaw mewed in a low voice.
Ravenpaw bounded over before Firepaw could reply. “What’s going to happen now?” he wailed, his fur
fluffed up in alarm and his eyes wider than ever.
Firepaw didn’t answer. The elders of ThunderClan were gathering nearby, and he was straining to hear
what they were saying.
“That must be Yellowfang he was talking about,” growled Smallear.
“Well, she did snap at Goldenflower’s youngest kit the other day,” murmured Speckletail darkly. She
was the oldest nursery queen, and fiercely protective of all the kits.
“And we’ve left her behind, with the camp virtually unguarded!” wailed One-eye, who for once seemed
to be having no trouble hearing everything.
“I tried to tell you she was a danger to us,” hissed Darkstripe. “Bluestar has to listen to reason now and
get rid of her before she harms any of our young!”
Tigerclaw strode up to the group. “We must return to camp at once and deal with this rogue!” he
yowled.
Firepaw didn’t stop to hear more. His mind was spinning. Loyal as he was to his Clan, he just couldn’t
believe that Yellowfang would be a danger to kits. Frightened for the old she-cat, burning with questions only
she could answer, he raced away from Graypaw and Ravenpaw without a word.
He charged up the hillside and pelted through the forest. Had he been mistaken about Yellowfang? If he
warned her about the danger she was in, would he be risking his own position in ThunderClan? Whatever
trouble he got himself into, he had to find out the truth from her before the other cats got back to the camp.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:46:06 GMT -5
CHAPTER 13
Firepaw reached the edge of the ravine and looked down at the camp. He was panting and his paws were
slippery with dew. He sniffed the air. He was alone. There was still time to speak to Yellowfang before the
others returned from the Gathering. Silently, he jumped down the rocky slope and slipped through the gorse
tunnel unnoticed.
The camp was still and quiet, apart from the muted snuffles of sleeping cats. Firepaw quickly crept
around the edge of the clearing to Yellowfang’s nest. The old medicine cat was curled on top of her mossy
bedding.
“Yellowfang,” he hissed urgently. “Yellowfang! Wake up; it’s important!”
Two orange eyes opened and glinted in the moonlight. “I wasn’t sleeping,” meowed Yellowfang quietly.
She sounded calm and alert. “You came straight from the Gathering to me? That must mean you’ve heard.”
She blinked slowly and looked away. “So Brokenstar kept his promise.”
“What promise?” Firepaw felt very confused. Yellowfang seemed to know more than he did about what
was going on.
“ShadowClan’s noble leader promised to drive me from every Clan territory,” Yellowfang replied dryly.
“What did he say about me?”
“He warned us that our kits were in danger as long as we sheltered the ShadowClan rogue. He didn’t say
your name, but ThunderClan guessed who he was talking about. You must leave before the others get back.
You are in danger!”
“You mean they believed Brokenstar?” Yellowfang flattened her ears and swished her tail angrily.
“Yes!” Firepaw meowed urgently. “Darkstripe says you’re dangerous. The other cats are scared of what
you might do. Tigerclaw is planning to come back and…I don’t know…. I think you should go before they get
here!”
In the distance Firepaw could hear the yowls of angry cats. Yellowfang struggled stiffly to her paws.
Firepaw gave her a nudge to help her up, his mind still spinning with questions. “What did Brokenstar mean
when he warned us to keep a close eye on our kits?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Would you really
do something like that?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you harm our kits?”
Yellowfang flared her nostrils and looked steadily at him. “Do you think so?”
Firepaw met her gaze without flinching. “No. I don’t believe you would ever harm a kit. But why would
Brokenstar say such a thing?”
The noise of the cats was coming nearer, and with it, the scents of aggression and anger. Yellowfang
looked wildly from side to side.
“Go!” Firepaw urged. Her safety was more important than his curiosity.
But Yellowfang remained where she was and stared at him. A calm look suddenly came into her wide
eyes. “Firepaw, you believe I’m innocent, and I’m grateful for that. If you believe me, then others might. And
I know Bluestar will give me a fair hearing. I can’t run forever. I’m too old. I shall stay here and face
whatever your Clan decides for me.” She sighed and sank down onto her bony haunches.
“But what about Tigerclaw? What if he—”
“He is headstrong, and he knows the power he has over the other Clan cats—they are in awe of him.
But even he will obey Bluestar.”
Rustling in the undergrowth beyond the camp boundary told Firepaw that the cats were almost at the
entrance.
“Go away, Firepaw,” hissed Yellowfang, baring her blackened teeth at him. “Don’t make trouble for
yourself by being seen with me now. There is nothing you can do for me. Have faith in your leader, and let
her decide what happens to me.”
Firepaw realized Yellowfang had made up her mind. He touched his nose to her patchy fur, then crept
silently away into the shadows to watch.
Through the gorse came the cats—Bluestar first, accompanied by Lionheart. Frostfur and Willowpelt
were right behind them. Frostfur raced away from the troop immediately and ran toward the nursery, the fur
on her tail bristling in alarm. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe strode into the clearing, shoulder to shoulder, looking
grim. The others followed behind, with Ravenpaw and Graypaw at the rear. As soon as he saw his friends,
Firepaw trotted out to join them.
“You went to warn Yellowfang, didn’t you?” whispered Graypaw when Firepaw reached his side.
“Yes, I did,” Firepaw admitted. “But she won’t leave. She trusts Bluestar to treat her fairly. Did anyone
miss me?”
“Only us,” replied Ravenpaw.
Around the camp, the cats who had stayed behind began to wake up. They must have scented the
aggression and heard the tension in the voices of the returning cats, for they all came running into the
clearing, their tails held high.
“What has happened?” called a tabby warrior named Runningwind.
“Brokenstar has demanded hunting rights for ShadowClan in our territory!” replied Longtail loudly
enough for all the cats to hear.
“And he warned us about a rogue cat who will harm our kits!” added Willowpelt. “It must be
Yellowfang!”
Meows of anger and distress rose from the crowd.
“Silence!” ordered Bluestar, leaping onto the Highrock. Instinctively, the cats settled in front of her.
A loud screech made every cat turn its head toward the fallen tree where the elders slept. Tigerclaw and
Darkstripe were dragging Yellowfang roughly from her nest. She shrieked furiously as they hauled her into
the clearing and dumped her in front of the Highrock. Firepaw felt every muscle in his body tense. Without
thinking, he dropped into a low crouch, ready to spring at Yellowfang’s persecutors.
“Wait, Firepaw,” growled Graypaw in his ear. “Let Bluestar deal with this.”
“What is going on?” demanded Bluestar, jumping down from the Highrock and glaring at her warriors.
“I gave no order to attack our prisoner.”
Tigerclaw and Darkstripe instantly let go of Yellowfang, who crouched in the dust, hissing and spitting.
Frostfur appeared from the nursery and pushed her way through to the front of the Clan. “We got back
in time,” she meowed with a gasp. “The kits are safe!”
“Of course they are!” snapped Bluestar.
Frostfur seemed taken aback. “But…you are going to throw Yellowfang out, aren’t you?” she meowed,
her blue eyes wide.
“Throw her out?” spat Darkstripe, unleashing his claws. “We should kill her now!”
Bluestar fixed her piercing blue eyes on Darkstripe’s angry face. “And what has she done?” she asked
with icy calm.
Firepaw held his breath.
“You were at the Gathering! Brokenstar said she—” Darkstripe began.
“Brokenstar said only that there is a rogue somewhere in the woods,” meowed Bluestar, her voice
menacingly quiet. “He did not mention Yellowfang by name. The kits are safe. For as long as she is in my
Clan, Yellowfang will not be harmed in any way.”
Bluestar’s words were met with silence, and Firepaw heaved a sigh of relief.
Yellowfang looked up at Bluestar and narrowed her eyes respectfully. “I will leave now, if you wish it,
Bluestar.”
“There is no need,” Bluestar replied. “You have done nothing wrong. You will be safe here.” The
ThunderClan leader lifted her gaze to the crowd of cats that surrounded Yellowfang and meowed, “It is time
we discussed the real threat to our Clan: Brokenstar. We have already begun to prepare for an attack by
ShadowClan,” Bluestar began. “We’ll carry on with those preparations, and patrol our borders more
frequently. WindClan has gone. RiverClan has given hunting rights to ShadowClan warriors. ThunderClan
stands alone against Brokenstar.”
A murmur of defiance rippled through the cats, and Firepaw felt his fur prickle with anticipation.
“Then we’re not going to agree to Brokenstar’s demands?” meowed Tigerclaw.
“Clans have never shared hunting rights before,” Bluestar answered. “They have always managed to
support themselves in their own territories. There is no reason why this should change.” Tigerclaw nodded
approvingly.
“But can we defend ourselves against a ShadowClan attack?” asked Smallear’s tremulous voice.
“WindClan didn’t manage it! RiverClan won’t even try!”
Bluestar met his old eyes with her steady gaze. “We must try. We will not give up our territory without
a fight.”
All around the clearing, Firepaw saw the cats nodding in agreement.
“I shall travel to the Moonstone tomorrow,” Bluestar announced. “The warriors of StarClan will give me
the strength I need to lead ThunderClan through this dark time. You must all get some rest. We have a lot to
do when daylight comes. I wish to talk with Lionheart now.” Without another word, she turned and strode
toward her den.
Firepaw noticed the look of wonder that had entered the eyes of some of the cats when Bluestar had
mentioned the Moonstone. Now the Clan cats hurriedly gathered in groups, meowing in hushed voices full of
excitement.
“What’s the Moonstone?” Firepaw asked Graypaw.
“It’s a rock deep underground that shines in the dark,” whispered Graypaw. His voice was hoarse with
awe. “All Clan leaders have to spend one night at the Moonstone when they are first chosen. There, the
spirits of StarClan share with them.”
“Share what with them?”
Graypaw frowned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I know only that the new leaders have to sleep near
the stone, and as they sleep, they have special dreams. After that, they have the gift of nine lives, and take the
name ‘star.’”
Firepaw watched Yellowfang limp back to her shadowy nest. It looked like Tigerclaw’s rough treatment
had aggravated her old injury. As he trotted back to the apprentices’ den, Firepaw decided to ask Spottedleaf
for more poppy seeds in the morning.
“So what happened?” mewed Dustpaw eagerly, popping his head out of the den. He seemed to have
forgotten how much he resented the new apprentice in his eagerness to hear about the Gathering.
“It’s like Longtail said. Brokenstar demanded hunting rights….” Graypaw began.
Sandpaw and Dustpaw sat and listened, but Firepaw was watching the camp. He could see the
silhouettes of Bluestar and Lionheart sitting close together outside her den, talking urgently.
Then he noticed the small shape of Ravenpaw at the entrance to the warriors’ den. Tigerclaw stood
beside him. Firepaw saw Ravenpaw’s ears flatten as the young cat flinched away from Tigerclaw’s fierce
words. The dark warrior loomed over him, twice his size, his eyes and teeth flashing in the moonlight. What
was he saying to Ravenpaw? Firepaw was just about to creep nearer and listen when Ravenpaw backed away,
turned, and ran across the clearing.
Firepaw greeted Ravenpaw as he reached the apprentice’s den, but Ravenpaw hardly seemed to notice
him. Instead, he pushed his way inside the den without a word.
Firepaw got up to follow him when he saw Lionheart approaching.
“Well,” meowed the ThunderClan deputy, striding up to the apprentices. “It seems that Firepaw,
Graypaw, and Ravenpaw are about to reach another important stage in their training.”
“What’s that?” mewed Graypaw, looking excited.
“Bluestar wishes you three to accompany her on her journey to the Moonstone!” Lionheart didn’t miss
the look of disappointment on the faces of Dustpaw and Sandpaw, because he added, “Don’t worry, you two;
you’ll make the journey soon enough. For now, ThunderClan needs your strength and skill at the camp. I will
remain here also.”
Firepaw looked past Lionheart to his leader. She was moving from one group of warriors to another,
meowing instructions to each. Why had she chosen him for this journey? he wondered.
“She wants you to rest now,” Lionheart continued. “But first go to Spottedleaf and collect the herbs you
will need on this expedition. It’s a long way. You will need something to give you strength and quell your
appetite. There will be little time for catching prey.”
Graypaw nodded, and Firepaw dragged his gaze away from Bluestar and nodded too.
“Where is Ravenpaw?” asked Lionheart.
“He’s in his nest already,” replied Firepaw.
“Good. Leave him to sleep. You can fetch herbs for him,” meowed Lionheart. “Rest well. You leave at
dawn.” He flicked his tail and walked back to Bluestar’s den.
“Well, then,” mewed Sandpaw. “You’d better go and see Spottedleaf.”
Firepaw listened for sourness in her voice, but there was none. There was no time for jealousy now. All
the cats in the Clan seemed to be united against the threat from ShadowClan.
Firepaw and Graypaw walked quickly toward Spottedleaf’s den. The fern tunnel was dark. Not even the
full moon penetrated its thick covering.
Spottedleaf seemed to be expecting them as they emerged into her moonlit clearing. “You have come
for some traveling herbs,” she meowed.
“Yes, please,” Firepaw answered. “And I think Yellowfang needs more poppy seeds. She seemed to be
feeling her wounds.”
“I will take her some after you have gone. And your traveling herbs are ready.”
Spottedleaf indicated a pile of carefully made leaf wraps. “Enough for the three of you. The dark green
herb will stop your hunger pangs during the journey. The other will give you strength. Eat them both just
before you leave. They’re not as good as fresh prey, but the taste won’t last long.”
“Thanks, Spottedleaf,” mewed Firepaw. He leaned down and picked up one of the parcels. As he bent
his head, Spottedleaf stretched over and gently rubbed his cheek with her nose. Firepaw breathed in her
sweet, warm scent and purred his thanks.
Graypaw picked up the other two and the friends turned and headed back through the tunnel.
“Good luck!” Spottedleaf called after them. “Travel safely.”
They arrived at the entrance to their den and dropped the bundles.
“Well, I just hope these herbs don’t taste too revolting!” muttered Graypaw.
“It must be a long way to the Moonstone. We’ve never been given herbs before. Do you know where it
is?” Firepaw asked.
“Beyond Clan territory, at a place called HighStones. It lies deep underground, in a cave we call
Mothermouth.”
“Have you ever been there before?” Firepaw was impressed that Graypaw knew so much about this
mysterious place.
“No, but all apprentices have to make the journey there before they become warriors.”
The thought of becoming a warrior made Firepaw’s eyes gleam with excitement, and he couldn’t help
standing a little taller.
“Don’t get your hopes up. We still have to finish our training!” Graypaw warned, as if reading his
thoughts.
Firepaw looked up through the canopy of leaves at the stars glittering in the black sky above. Moonhigh
had passed. “We should get some sleep,” he mewed. But he couldn’t imagine being able to sleep with the
thought of tomorrow’s adventure spinning through his mind. Attending the Gathering, a journey to the
Moonstone—how far away his kittypet life seemed now!
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