Into the Wild

  “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, diamond-patterned 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 should 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 excitemen
t. 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?

  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 Graypaw. “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.