I never knew the world was so big! Alderpaw reflected, wincing as his sore paws padded over the gritty earth. I can’t believe how far we’ve had to travel! Casting a glance back at his companions, he could see that they were all as tired as he was, limping onward with tails drooping.
An unexpected gust of wind drove sand into Alderpaw’s eyes and brought the sound of cats’ voices drifting up from the gorge below. Strong but unfamiliar cat scent came with it. Blinking fiercely, Alderpaw raised his tail to warn the others to be silent, and he crept forward to crouch at the very edge of the cliff.
When his vision cleared, he made out paths and jutting outcrops in the rock face and, far below, a pile of reddish boulders blocking the way ahead. The river poured out of a gaping black hole in the rock and dropped into a pool before flowing away down the gorge.
“This is where the river begins!” Alderpaw breathed out. “It must be where SkyClan’s camp is.”
It was a weird place for a camp, he thought. He couldn’t see any dens, or any fresh-kill pile, just the heaps of red stone with the river cutting its way through. Cats live here? he asked himself, bewildered. Yet, as he looked more closely, he could see cats slipping between the boulders, pausing to talk to one another, sunning themselves, just as his own Clanmates did in their camp.
“Are these the cats from your dreams?”
Alderpaw realized that Needlepaw had crept up beside him and was peering over his shoulder. “They’re too far away for me to be sure,” he responded. “But the red rock seems familiar.”
“Hmm . . .” Needlepaw edged up beside him to give the scene a closer scrutiny. “They might be far away,” she continued, “but they don’t look like cats in need of help to me.”
Realizing she was right, Alderpaw let out a sigh. “Maybe I misinterpreted my vision.”
“What?” Sparkpaw, craning her neck to gaze down on Alderpaw’s other side, began to bristle with outrage. “You led us all this way for nothing?” she hissed.
“We can’t know Alderpaw is wrong,” Needlepaw retorted. “Not from this distance. Maybe we should get closer.”
Alderpaw was grateful for her defense, for how she always had the spirit to adapt to setbacks, but at the same time he worried that Sparkpaw had a point. What if this journey has been wasted?
“Okay, what are we waiting for?” Needlepaw asked, springing to her paws. “Let’s find a way down.”
Instantly Molewhisker moved to block her. “Are you mouse-brained?” he demanded. “We can’t just stroll into their camp. None of us know much about SkyClan, and they don’t know much about us, either. There’s no way of being sure we can trust them.” He gave his tail an irritable twitch. “Sandstorm was the only one who had met the SkyClan cats, and she’s dead now.”
Needlepaw shrugged, unmoved by the older cat’s argument. “We can only find answers by getting closer. Alderpaw wouldn’t have dreamed of these cats if they weren’t important, right?”
Alderpaw swallowed nervousness. “That’s true,” he meowed, trying to sound strong and decisive. “Lead on, Needlepaw.”
After a moment’s searching, Needlepaw found the beginning of a path that led down into the gorge, winding to and fro across the rock face. Alderpaw followed hard on her paw steps, hugging the cliff wall to stay well away from the drop at the edge of the path and feeling the heat of the sun-warmed rocks striking up through his pads.
To his relief the others headed down after them.
“Alderpaw must have bees in his brain,” he heard Sparkpaw mutter. “Following this stupid ShadowClan furball!”
Before they had descended more than a few fox-lengths into the gorge, Alderpaw heard a loud yowl coming from below. Turning toward the sound, he spotted a long-furred gray tom staring straight at him. The yowl had attracted three of the other SkyClan cats, who raced toward him; then all four began to climb the rocks, with the gray tom in the lead.
“Uh-oh!” Needlepaw murmured.
“Well, we had to meet them sometime,” Alderpaw responded. He slid past Needlepaw to take the lead and padded down a couple of tail-lengths, as far as a wide ledge. “We’ll wait for them here—and for StarClan’s sake, remember that we’re here to help. We’re not looking for a fight.”
He had hardly finished speaking when the SkyClan cats came into sight, springing confidently up the narrow path until they faced the questing cats on the ledge.
The gray tom took another pace forward until he stood nose to nose with Alderpaw, who tried not to flinch as the SkyClan cat’s cold green gaze raked over him. This was a powerful cat, his shoulder fur bristling and his tail bushed up.
“If you’ve come for the territory,” he snarled, “you can think again. You’re way outnumbered.”
Alderpaw hesitated, wondering if he should respond. Although it was his quest, Molewhisker and Cherryfall were the senior cats now that Sandstorm wasn’t with them anymore. Maybe they should be the ones to speak.
But when Alderpaw glanced back at Molewhisker and Cherryfall, neither of them moved. It’s up to me, then, he thought, turning back toward the hostile long-furred tom.
“We don’t want your territory,” he explained, his voice quiet and calm. “But we’ve traveled a long way to meet you—the cats of SkyClan who live in this gorge.”
The gray tom tilted his head to one side, a glint in his green eyes. “What do cats from far away know about SkyClan?” he asked.
“Not much,” Alderpaw admitted, “but we’re here to learn more.”
The tom let out a disdainful snort. “Then you’d better come and speak to our leader.” He jerked his head to indicate that they should follow him, then turned and padded back down the path.
Alderpaw had only taken a single paw step to follow him when Sparkpaw pushed forward to his side. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.
Would you be so doubtful if another cat were leading us, and not me? Alderpaw wanted to hiss the words at his sister, but he bit them back with clenched jaws. “Bramblestar sent us on this journey,” he murmured. “Wherever it leads must be right.”
The three cats who had accompanied the gray tom parted to let the traveling cats pass, then closed in around them. As he got a closer look, Alderpaw saw that one was a black tom, and the others were she-cats: one tabby and one with white fur stained with dirt and dust. In fact, all four cats looked as if they could do with a good grooming.
Don’t SkyClan cats ever wash? Alderpaw asked himself. He could just imagine what any ThunderClan mentor would say to an apprentice who went around looking like that.
Then he reminded himself that SkyClan had been driven out of their original territory and exiled to this gorge. They had lived separately from the other Clans for so long, maybe it wasn’t surprising they had slightly different customs.
As they padded down the path, Needlepaw sidled past Alderpaw and caught up the gray tom in the lead. “What’s your name?” she asked.
The gray tom’s ears flicked in surprise—Alderpaw guessed at the ShadowClan apprentice’s confident tone. “I’m called Rain,” he replied.
Just Rain? Alderpaw wondered why Needlepaw didn’t ask that question. They probably do things differently, he told himself again. Even names. But he was sure he remembered Sandstorm mentioning SkyClan cats called Leafstar, Sharpclaw, and Echosong. Those are proper warrior names. But then, Sandstorm was here so long ago . . .
By now Needlepaw was walking beside Rain, chatting without a trace of apprehension. Thinking that perhaps she had the right idea, Alderpaw turned toward the tabby she-cat, who was the closest to him of their escort.
“Hi, my name’s Alderpaw,” he began.
The tabby she-cat ignored him, except for one glance from baleful yellow eyes.
Okay, be like that, Alderpaw thought. He was disappointed that the SkyClan cats didn’t seem more welcoming, but he told himself that perhaps they would open up once they knew him and his companions better and discovered why they were there.
The long-furred tom led Alderpaw and his companions up to the pile of rocks where the river gushed out. Sitting at the base of the rock pile was a strong, muscular tom, his white fur broken up by black spots around his eyes and his long, black tail. Sunlight gleamed on his glossy pelt, and his blue eyes shone as he surveyed the newcomers.
Alderpaw could imagine this cat perched up on the rocks to call a Clan meeting. But no! His belly lurched suddenly. This isn’t the Clan leader I saw in my vision, making a new warrior. Glancing around, trying to push down fear, he saw more and more of the SkyClan cats slipping out of the shadows, or from cracks in the surrounding rocks, slowly encircling him and his little group. He examined each one of them, hoping to recognize at least one cat from his vision, but none of them looked at all familiar. Why?
The white tom rose to his paws, a sneering look on his face. “Who are these?” he asked Rain. “Lost kitties?”
Alderpaw saw his Clanmates begin to bristle at the insult. “Steady,” he whispered. “Don’t provoke them. We need to know more.”
“Greetings, Darktail.” Rain dipped his head. “These are strangers from far away, looking for SkyClan.”
So they call their leader Darktail, Alderpaw thought, growing even more bewildered. Why not Darkstar? Or is this just another way these weird cats are different from us?
Darktail turned an unblinking gaze on Alderpaw. “What do you want with SkyClan?”
Staring into the leader’s eerie blue eyes, Alderpaw felt his fur prickle with apprehension. He wished that either Molewhisker or Cherryfall would speak up rather than leave him to take the lead.
“I’m from ThunderClan,” he replied, choking back his uneasiness. “I’ve been sent to find the cats of SkyClan.”
“Why?” Darktail asked.
Alderpaw wasn’t sure how to answer that. I thought we’d find out more when we arrived. “Every Clan’s survival depends on us all working together,” he mewed uncertainly, and was relieved to see Cherryfall and Molewhisker dipping their heads in assent.
Darktail narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking me and my cats to go with you to this . . . ThunderClan?”
Feeling like a kit before its eyes opened, groping around in the dark, Alderpaw nodded. But he still didn’t know whether SkyClan was really was what StarClan meant for them to “embrace.” If I convince them to journey back with us to the lake, what will Bramblestar think? How would we cope with all these extra cats?
“Do you need our help?” Darktail pressed him.
“No!” Alderpaw blurted. “We’re not asking for help with a fight or anything. The Clans are all settled in their own territories, and there aren’t many disagreements, because there’s plenty of prey for every cat.” Do you need our help? he added silently to himself. Or have I completely misunderstood my vision? Oh, Sandstorm, I wish you were here to help me figure this out!
Darktail seemed to think for a moment, then inclined his head politely to Alderpaw. “I’m impressed,” he purred. “I appreciate that you have made a long journey to find SkyClan. But I hope you understand, we can’t just abandon our territory at the urging of strangers.”
Alderpaw felt some of his tension ease. At least Darktail sounds reasonable. But he hadn’t expected the meeting with SkyClan to go this way at all, and part of him would have liked to leave and pretend that none of this had ever happened. These cats didn’t seem to be in any need of help.
Then he remembered his vision, especially his dream of the cats shrieking in anguish on the bleak moor. I can’t just turn around and go home, he thought, wishing once again that Sandstorm were with him.
“Why don’t we stick around for a bit?” It was Needlepaw who spoke, her head and tail raised fearlessly as she addressed Darktail. “We could join in with some hunts and patrols. It wouldn’t take long for you SkyClan cats to see that we can be trusted.”
Alderpaw wasn’t sure whether he liked that suggestion or not. But he couldn’t think of a better idea, so he supposed he would have to go along with it.
Darktail remained quiet for a moment, his blue gaze resting on each cat for a heartbeat before returning to Alderpaw. “Very well,” he meowed at last. “Rain, show our guests where they can sleep. And yes,” he added to Alderpaw, “there’s probably quite a bit that we can learn from one another.”
Alderpaw nodded in reluctant agreement, though his pelt still prickled and a shiver ran through him from ears to tail-tip. Why does this feel so wrong?
The sun was warm on Alderpaw’s pelt as he bent his head to lap from the stream. Gazing down into the water, he wished he could wash his paws, but he knew that would only make it easier for dust and grit to stick to them.
How can the SkyClan cats bear to live in such a filthy place? he asked himself. Maybe if they do return with us to the forest, the ways of the other Clans will rub off on them.
The evening before, when Rain had taken him and his friends to a den—a bare cave in the side of the gorge with nothing on the floor but sand—Alderpaw had settled to sleep in the hope that StarClan would send another vision to guide him. But now he couldn’t even remember whether he had dreamed at all.
A pang of homesickness pierced him, sharp as a thorn, and he longed to feel cool grass beneath his pads, and to hear the gentle rustling of leaves as branches swayed above his head. I hope SkyClan will decide to come with us, just so we can head home soon. My Clan doesn’t even know that Sandstorm is dead.
Grief tugged at Alderpaw’s belly as he remembered the wise old she-cat. She would have known what to do, and helped him figure out why none of the cats here looked like the cats from his vision. She would have worked out why they didn’t seem to be looking for help.
Is my timing wrong? Was I dreaming of past SkyClan cats?
A yowl from a little way downstream distracted Alderpaw from his thoughts. Turning, he spotted Needlepaw, who was perched on a boulder a few tail-lengths away.
“The hunters are back!” she announced. “And they’re bringing prey.”
Alderpaw left the waterside and bounded back to the center of the camp to meet the hunting patrols. His belly rumbled when he saw the quantities of prey that lay around Darktail as if presented for his approval. The hunters stood around the prey in a wide half circle, with Rain closest to their leader.
The rest of the questing cats clustered around Alderpaw and watched as Darktail chose a plump pigeon and tore mouthfuls of flesh from it. Then the SkyClan leader nodded to Rain, who stepped forward and chose a squirrel for himself.
“This is weird,” Sparkpaw muttered into Alderpaw’s ear. “Where’s their fresh-kill pile? Who takes food to the elders and the nursing queens?”
Before Alderpaw could even try to answer her question, Rain stepped back with the squirrel in his jaws. As if at a signal, the hunters closed in, butting heads and hissing as they tried to grab the juiciest pieces of fresh-kill.
At the edges of the circle Alderpaw spotted two or three skinny elders, who tried to join in the fight for food, only to be shoved back by the stronger cats, who crouched over their prey, glaring around as they ripped flesh from the bones. A she-cat, with three tiny kits mewling around her, darted in and grabbed a vole, but a huge tabby tom tore it out of her jaws and thrust her away with a powerful stroke of his hind legs.
The questing cats shared glances of horror and confusion. “What do they think they’re doing?” Cherryfall breathed out.
Beside Alderpaw, Needlepaw shrugged. “Maybe they’ve never been taught the warrior code.”
“I’m surprised you’ve even heard of it,” Sparkpaw muttered.
Needlepaw gave her a sly, sideways glance. “Just because I don’t always follow stupid rules doesn’t mean I don’t know they exist,” she retorted.
Then without hesitation she dived into the midst of the chaos of butting heads and swiping claws, easily batting two or three of the younger cats aside. Heartbeats later she emerged from the skirmish with a mouse, and crouched down in the shade of a rock to gulp it down.
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Alderpaw spotted Darktail strolling back to the pile of rocks, with a casual glance over his shoulder at the fighting cats. He curled up beneath an overhang and watched the scene with slitted eyes.
Alderpaw’s belly was growling, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in the melee. I’m not going to battle elders or kits for food!
Beside him he heard Sparkpaw stifling a growl. “This isn’t fair,” she murmured. “Some of these SkyClan cats must go hungry day after day. That’s why so many of them look thin and ragged.”
As she finished speaking, she bounded forward, skirting the scrimmage, and marched boldly up to Darktail.
“Sparkpaw, no!” Alderpaw exclaimed, hurrying after her. To his relief he realized that Molewhisker and Cherryfall were following too.
“Why do you eat like this?” Sparkpaw piped up in a challenging tone as she planted herself in front of Darktail.
Alderpaw wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by her courage or embarrassed by her manners. We are SkyClan’s guests, after all.
“What do you mean?” Darktail asked, lashing his tail.
“In the Clans,” Sparkpaw explained, “we bring all the prey back to camp and make a fresh-kill pile. Some cat will take food to the elders and the nursing queens, and to any cats who are sick, and then the warriors and apprentices are allowed to help themselves. We don’t fight like that,” she finished with a disdainful flick of her ears.
Darktail’s only response was to narrow his eyes. Alderpaw stepped up to his sister’s side, ready to defend her if the SkyClan leader struck at her.
“It’s only fair,” Sparkpaw went on. “You must have eaten like that in the past, since you’re warriors too, and you’re supposed to follow the warrior code.”
Alderpaw noticed a glint of amusement in Darktail’s eyes at the words warrior code.
“We have developed our own code,” the leader told Sparkpaw. “After we left the other Clans, SkyClan realized our members were becoming weak, and we decided to make up some new rules. SkyClan rules reward the strong and aggressive—the cats who will best defend the Clan.”