Into the Wild

  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 seem
ed 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!

  CHAPTER 14

  The cold air chilled Firepaw’s bones as blackness wrapped itself around him. He could hear nothing, and his nostrils were filled with the musty scent of damp earth.

  Out of nowhere, a brilliant ball of light flared in front of him. Firepaw ducked his head, screwing up his eyes against the glare. The light shone, dazzling coldly like a star; then it blinked out, disappearing as quickly as it had come. The darkness fell away, and Firepaw found himself in the forest. He felt comforted by the familiar smells of the woods. He breathed in the moist green scents, and calmness flowed through his body.

  Without warning, a dreadful noise burst from the trees. Firepaw’s fur bristled. It was the screeching of terrified cats racing out from the bushes up ahead. Firepaw recognized their ThunderClan pelts as they fled past him. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Then came great cats, huge dark warriors, their eyes glittering cruelly. They thundered toward him, pounding the earth with massive paws, their claws unsheathed. And out of the shadows, Firepaw heard a high, desperate cry filled with grief and rage. Graypaw!

  Firepaw woke, horrified. His dream vanished, leaving his ears ringing and his fur standing on end. As he opened his eyes, he saw the face of Tigerclaw peering into the den. Firepaw leaped to his feet, instantly alert.

  “Something wrong, Firepaw?” asked Tigerclaw.

  “Just a dream,” Firepaw mumbled.

  Tigerclaw gave him a curious look, then growled, “Wake the others. We leave shortly.”

  Outside the den, the sky glowed with a new dawn, and dew sparkled on the ferns. It would be a warm day once the sun was up, but the early-morning dampness reminded Firepaw that the time of leaf-fall was not far off.

  Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw quickly gulped down the herbs that Spottedleaf had given them. Tigerclaw and Bluestar sat watching them, ready to leave. The rest of the camp was still asleep.

  “Ugh!” complained Graypaw. “I knew they’d be bitter. Why couldn’t we eat a fat, juicy mouse instead?”

  “These herbs will keep your hunger at bay longer,” answered Bluestar. “And they will make you strong. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  “Have you eaten yours already?” Firepaw asked.

  “I cannot eat if I’m going to share dreams with StarClan at the Moonstone tonight,” replied Bluestar.

  Firepaw felt his paws tingle when he heard these words. He was itching to begin the journey. With the dawn’s light and the familiar voices, the terror of his dream had left him. All that remained was the memory of the brilliant light, and Bluestar’s words sent a renewed thrill of excitement through him.

  The five cats made their way through the gorse tunnel and out of the camp.

  Lionheart was just returning with a patrol. “Safe journey,” he meowed.

  Bluestar nodded. “I know I can trust you to keep the camp safe,” she answered.

  Lionheart looked at Graypaw and dipped his head. “Remember,” he meowed, “you are almost a warrior. Don’t forget what I have taught you.”

  Graypaw looked back at Lionheart with affection. “I will always remember, Lionheart,” he mewed, nudging his head against the tabby’s broad golden flank.

  They retraced their route to Fourtrees. This was the quickest way to pass into WindClan territory. Highstones lay beyond.

  As Firepaw bounded down the side of the glade toward the Great Rock, he could still smell the scents of last night’s Gathering. He followed the others through the grassy clearing and up the slope on the other side, into WindClan territory. The bushy slope became steeper as they climbed, and rockier, until the cats had to leap from boulder to boulder up the side of a craggy cliff face.

  Firepaw paused when they reached the top. Ahead of them, the ground flattened out
into a wide plateau. The wind blew in a steady gust that rippled the grass and bent the trees. The soil was stony, and outcroppings of bare rock dotted the landscape here and there.

  The air still carried the scents of WindClan, but they were stale. Much fresher, and more alarming, were the pungent markings of ShadowClan warriors.

  “All Clans are entitled to safe passage to the Moonstone, but ShadowClan seems to have no respect for the warrior code anymore, so be alert,” warned Bluestar. “We mustn’t hunt outside our territory, though. We’ll follow the warrior code, even if ShadowClan doesn’t.”

  They set off across the plateau as the sun rose into the sky, following the tracks through the heather. Firepaw had grown used to living under a canopy of trees. Without their shade, his flame-colored pelt felt heavy and hot, and his back seemed to burn. He was thankful for the steady breeze blowing from the forests behind.

  Suddenly Tigerclaw stopped dead. “Watch out!” he hissed. “I smell a ShadowClan patrol.”

  Firepaw and the others lifted their noses, and sure enough, the scent of ShadowClan warriors traveled on the wind.

  “They are upwind. They won’t know we are here if we keep moving,” meowed Bluestar. “But we must hurry. If they move ahead they’ll detect us. It’s not far to the edge of WindClan territory now.”

  They moved on quickly, leaping over the rocks, pushing their way through the sweet-smelling heather. Every few steps, Firepaw sniffed the air and glanced over his shoulder, on the lookout for the ShadowClan patrol. But gradually the odor grew fainter and fainter. They must have turned back, he thought with relief.

  Finally they reached the edge of the uplands. The landscape changed dramatically, shaped and altered beyond recognition by Twolegs. Wide earth tracks crisscrossed green and golden meadows, small woods dotted the land, and Twoleg nests were scattered here and there among the fields. In the distance Firepaw saw a familiar wide, gray path, and an acid tang that stung his throat drifted on the breeze.

  “Is that the Thunderpath?” he asked Graypaw.

  “Yes,” replied Graypaw. “It runs up from ShadowClan territory. Can you see Highstones behind it?”