“Thanks!” he gasped and crossed the open ground in three quick strides, landing squarely on the black-and-white cat. Eeltail turned at the noise and lifted his paw so that the she-cat could flee; then he joined Splashheart and together they chased the black-and-white tom after his frightened Clanmate.
When the two cats had gone, Splashheart realized that the sounds of battle had grown quieter, muffled as if he were underwater.
“The battle has been won,” whispered the voice. “Sunningrocks is safe.”
Splashheart turned his head—the only part of his body he seemed able to move—and saw a faint, glimmering cat standing beside him. Her fur was the color of floodwater, almost black with streaks of pale gray, and her tail was so long the tip rested on the rock. RiverClan scent hung around her, but he’d never seen her before.
“Who are you?”
The cat dipped her head. “My name is Aspentail,” she replied. “I am kin of your elders and of your elders’ elders. I fought for these rocks once, and I will fight for them again, for as many moons as it takes, until ThunderClan learns that Sunningrocks belongs to RiverClan.”
“I will fight with you,” Splashheart vowed. Aspentail nodded and started to fade so that Splashheart could see the gray of the rock through her fur.
“Splashheart? Who are you talking to?”
Blackbee was standing behind him, looking puzzled. “Didn’t you realize?” she demanded. “We won! Those fox-hearted ThunderClan cats won’t set paw on Sunningrocks now.”
“Not for this moon, at least,” Splashheart whispered. “But if they do, we’ll fight them again. Aspentail, too.”
“What was that?” mewed Blackbee. “Are you okay, Splashheart? You’re not wounded, are you?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Splashheart promised.
“Cats of RiverClan!” Darkstar was summoning her warriors to the center of the summit. “Sunningrocks belongs to us once more! And in honor of our elders and their kin before them, who never stopped fighting to defend our borders, we will catch fish on our way home and feed it to the oldest and youngest cats of the Clan. This victory is for them!”
Some of the warriors looked surprised, but Splashheart nodded. He would catch the plumpest fish he could find in memory of Aspentail and take it straight to the elders’ den. And if he ever became leader of his Clan, he would make it part of the warrior code that elders and kits should be fed first, in honor of all they had done, and all they would do, for his Clanmates to come.
A Dark Path Chosen
As you have seen, Clan cats are part of something bigger than ourselves, and that ensures we are as strong as our strongest warrior when trouble comes. But come see what can happen if this part of the warrior code is ignored.
Longtail winced as a cold drop of water splashed onto his neck. “The den is leaking again,” he complained to Darkstripe, who was curled up beside him.
Darkstripe opened one yellow eye. “Better tell Redtail,” he murmured. “He’ll have to organize a cat to fix it before we drown in our sleep.”
Longtail slid out of his nest, shivering as the bead of water rolled down his back, and pushed his way into the clearing. Leaf-fall was giving way to leaf-bare, and the sky was flat and gray like water. Longtail picked his way over to the cleft in the rock where he could hear Redtail, the ThunderClan deputy, speaking quietly with Bluestar. His words were punctuated with coughs that racked the warrior’s body and left him breathless: The Clan was fighting off greencough, and Redtail had only just emerged from the medicine cat’s den where he had been treated.
“We need to send out a hunting patrol,” he wheezed to Bluestar. “The fresh-kill pile was ruined by the rain last night, and the sick cats won’t get better if they’re weak with hunger.”
“Very well, but only send out healthy cats,” Bluestar warned. “Which means you stay here, Redtail.”
The deputy started to argue but was interrupted by another bout of coughing.
“Longtail!”
A tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, her pelt dappled like a glade in greenleaf, was calling him from the shelter of a clump of ferns. Longtail changed direction to join her.
“What’s up, Spottedleaf?”
“Has Redtail organized any hunting patrols yet?” The medicine cat’s eyes were dark with worry. “I can’t help sick cats when they’re so hungry. I know hunting is hard in this weather, but we have to find them something to eat.” Her bones shifted under her pelt as she moved, and Longtail guessed that Spottedleaf had been giving up her own share of fresh-kill to the cats she was trying to heal.
“I think he’s just about to send one out,” he told her.
“Good. Let’s hope they come back quickly. Poppydawn is hardly strong enough to eat the catmint.”
Longtail peered past her into the ferns, where he could just make out the dark red fur of the sick elder. Poppydawn told good stories and was popular with all the kits in the Clan because she let them chase her tail, which was as thick as a fox’s.
Redtail nodded to Longtail, flicking drops of water from his feathered ears. “Are you free to go on a hunting patrol?”
“Yes,” Longtail replied.
“Good. Take Darkstripe with you. Try Snakerocks—there might be some prey sheltering there. You shouldn’t find any snakes at this time of year, but don’t go too deep into the caves.”
At least Darkstripe won’t order me around, Longtail thought as he squeezed back into the warriors’ den. In spite of the leaky roof, Darkstripe had gone back to sleep. Longtail prodded him with his paw.
“Wake up! We’ve got to go on a patrol.”
Darkstripe raised his head and stared at him blearily. “In this weather? You must be crazy! Did you tell Redtail that the roof needs fixing?”
“I didn’t get a chance,” Longtail confessed. “Come on, it’s just us. Redtail suggested we try Snakerocks.”
“Great,” Darkstripe grumbled, heaving himself to his paws. “I can either drown or get bitten for the sake of my Clan.”
“It’s not raining that hard,” Longtail pointed out as they headed for the tunnel that led out of the camp. “It’s mostly just water being shaken from the trees.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Darkstripe muttered, but he sprang gracefully up the rocks that littered the side of the ravine and reached the top before Longtail.
The rain kept Twolegs and their dogs out of the woods, so the warriors had a clear run all the way to Snakerocks. Longtail shivered. Even if the snakes had gone for the cold season, this place still made him nervous. Darkstripe skirted the edge of the trees, sniffing at the dead bracken.
“I’m starving,” he meowed. “We’d better catch something. I haven’t found anything good on the fresh-kill pile for days.”
Longtail headed for the pile of rocks, telling himself that he wouldn’t go into any caves at all, not even a little way. His whiskers trembled as he picked up the scent of squirrel at the foot of the rocks. The trail led behind the stones and a little way into a clump of brambles. Crouching low, Longtail stepped paw by paw under the thorns. There was a patch of gray fur just visible through the tendrils. He gathered his haunches under him, wriggled to get his balance, then sprang. Blasting his way through the brambles, he landed squarely on the squirrel. Muttering a prayer to StarClan, and spitting out leaves, Longtail backed out of the thicket, dragging his fresh-kill.
“Good catch!”
Darkstripe was standing right behind him, making Longtail jump. The black-striped warrior padded forward, sniffing appreciatively. The squirrel’s fluffy gray fur rippled under his breath. Darkstripe glanced over his shoulder. “This won’t taste nearly as good once we’ve hauled it back to the camp.”
Longtail shrugged. “We should catch something else quickly; then it will still be fresh.”
“But it won’t be as fresh as it is now.” Darkstripe looked back at the squirrel. “And we’ll hunt much better after a decent meal.”
“The warrior
code says we can’t eat until the elders and kits have been fed,” Longtail reminded him. His pelt was starting to prickle as if ants were crawling through it.
“How will any cat know?” Darkstripe murmured. He narrowed his eyes until they were tiny amber slits. “You won’t tell, will you?” His voice was barely a whisper; Longtail could hardly hear him.
“I … I … ”
Darkstripe opened his jaws and sank his teeth into the squirrel, without taking his eyes off Longtail. He chewed slowly, releasing the tempting smell of warm, plump meat.
We’re as hungry as the rest of the Clan, and we need our strength to hunt. It makes no sense to let the warriors starve when they have to look after every other cat. I caught this squirrel easily; we’ll catch plenty more.
Longtail bent his head and bit into the fresh-kill. Above him, a cold wind rattled the trees, and the rocks loomed gray and silent against the heavy sky.
Pelting rain made the sides of the ravine slippery, and the cats picked their way carefully down with their catch gripped in their mouths. Longtail had been lucky with the squirrel; prey had been much harder to find after that, and all they brought were two mice and an old, tough-looking blackbird. Neither cat looked each other in the eye as they dragged their fresh-kill over the muddy ground to the gorse tunnel. Darkstripe hung back, forcing Longtail to go first. The thorns seemed sharper against his pelt than before, and a feather from the blackbird had worked its way into his throat, making him choke and splutter through his mouthful. He pushed his way into the clearing and looked around, expecting to see a row of hungry cats waiting by the fresh-kill pile.
The clearing was empty, the ground shiny and bouncing with raindrops. Darkstripe joined Longtail and they stood side by side with their catch by their front paws. Before either of them could speak, a wail rose from the ferns around Spottedleaf’s den.
“Poppydawn! No! Don’t leave me!”
It was Rosetail, her daughter.
“It is her time to join StarClan. Our warrior ancestors are waiting for her.” That was Spottedleaf, her voice muffled by grief.
Longtail looked at Darkstripe, feeling a wave of panic rise inside him. “We’re too late! Poppydawn is dead! Spottedleaf said she needed to eat in order to fight the sickness, but we didn’t come back in time! We should never have eaten that squirrel!”
“Shut up!” Darkstripe hissed. “What’s the matter with you? Poppydawn was going to die anyway. We should let the old, useless cats go if it means the warriors survive. The Clan depends on us now, not them.”
“We killed her....”
“We did not! Greencough killed her. She was old and weak. We are the important cats; we should eat first. Do you want to do what’s best for your Clan?”
“Of course … ”
“Then you’ll keep your mouth shut and let your Clanmates be grateful for what we brought back. There’s one fewer mouth to feed now. Why spoil everything by trying to blame yourself for Poppydawn?”
But Poppydawn might still be alive if we had come back earlier—if we had come back with the squirrel.
Darkstripe was peering at Longstripe as if he could read his thoughts. “You’ll keep quiet, won’t you?” he hissed, and this time there was a hint of menace behind his eyes. “After all, I saw you eat that squirrel. I’ll tell them what you did, how you insisted on stealing prey from the elders, how you refused to let me bring it back to the camp.”
A hard, cold lump froze inside Longtail. “There’s nothing to tell,” he growled back. “We were sent to hunt for prey, and that’s what we’ve done. No other warrior could have done better.”
As he bent his head to pick up the blackbird and carry it to the fresh-kill pile, a waft of warm air ruffled his fur and a familiar scent brushed over him. Longtail lifted his head in horror.
Poppydawn! I’m so sorry!
Too late, came the silent reply. Too late.
CODE FOUR
PREY IS KILLED ONLY TO BE EATEN. GIVE THANKS TO STARCLAN FOR ITS LIFE.
When you eat, whom do you thank for your food? It was the clear-sighted leadership of Lilystar of ShadowClan, moons ago, that taught us to respect our prey and helped us to see how much we owe to our warrior ancestors for training us and bringing us to a place where we can live like this.
Mouse Games
“Over here, Fallowkit!” Driftkit dodged around a fallen branch and poked his head over the top to call to his sister.
Fallowkit popped up and shoved the mouse they were playing with toward him. Its limp body rolled over, leaving a faint mark on the boggy ground. The snow had only just melted and the ShadowClan camp was so wet, the kits’ mother, Splashnose, spent every night licking the mud out of their belly fur. Driftkit scrambled onto the branch and launched himself off, landing flat on the mouse. It felt squishy under his paws, and it smelled of dirt and snowmelt.
Driftkit knew he was going to be the best ShadowClan warrior ever! He’d scratch out those scrawny WindClan cats’ eyes, he’d chase the fat RiverClan cats until their legs fell off, he’d creep up on the ThunderClan cats and claw their ears....
“Driftkit! What in the name of StarClan are you doing to that mouse?”
Driftkit fell off the mouse in surprise. A ginger-and-white she-cat with a bright orange tail was stalking toward him. “I was just practicing being a warrior, Sunnytail,” Driftkit stammered to the ShadowClan deputy.
Sunnytail stared down at the mouse. “That’s not fit to eat now! Does Splashnose know what you’re doing?”
Fallowkit padded up, her light brown fur standing on end. “She’s in the nursery. She told us to go outside and play.”
Sunnytail shook her head. “This was the last piece of fresh-kill we had. Now the Clan will have to go hungry until the next hunting patrol.”
“Sorry,” Driftkit muttered. He wished a giant hole would open up in front of him so he could jump in and not be yelled at anymore. He was just having fun. He’d been stuck inside the den for moons because of the snow, and his legs felt as if they could run all the way to the Thunderpath that the warriors talked about.
The branches around the nursery rustled and a dusty-brown tabby with a white streak on her muzzle appeared. “What’s the matter?” she called.
“Driftkit and Fallowkit have been playing with the last piece of fresh-kill, Splashnose,” Sunnytail replied.
“I’m sure they didn’t know it was the last piece …” Splashnose began.
“They must have known!” Sunnytail argued. “There would have been nothing left!”
“Is this true?” A pale gray cat padded up, her tail kinked questioningly over her back. She looked from her deputy to Driftkit. “Did you take the last of our food?”
Driftkit tried to make a hole appear in front of his paws by staring at the ground really hard. Just his luck that Lilystar had overheard. “I guess,” he whispered to the ShadowClan leader.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Splashnose put in, but Lilystar hushed her with a flick of her tail. When she spoke, her tone was unexpectedly gentle.
“Driftkit, you should not have taken that mouse to play with. Prey is too scarce to be wasted. That mouse did not die to become a toy, but to keep us alive after a long leaf-bare. Do you understand?”
Driftkit nodded without looking up. Beside him, Fallowkit squeaked, “Yes, Lilystar.”
Suddenly a shadow swept over the clearing, and there was a strange rushing sound above Driftkit’s head.
“Owl! Run!” screeched Splashnose, and the cats bolted for safety.
Driftkit was too terrified to move. He stared up at the huge white bird, which swooped closer and closer. He could see every feather on its chest, its sharp hooked talons, the ring of yellow around each eye as it glared down at him. He gulped, waiting to be swept up into the air.
The owl folded its wings at the last moment and dropped with its talons outstretched. Nearer, nearer … then it was pulling itself back up into the air with its mighty wings. Driftkit opened his eyes. He was s
till on the ground. The mouse had vanished; when he looked up, he could see its battered body dangling from the owl’s claws, getting smaller and smaller as the bird disappeared over the trees.
I survived!
Splashnose raced up to Driftkit. “Are you all right, precious?” she gasped, sniffing him all over.
Driftkit shrugged away. Fierce warriors didn’t get fussed over by their moms whenever they won a battle. “I’m fine,” he muttered.
Lilystar pricked her ears to follow the path of the owl. “It is a sign,” she declared. “StarClan gives our prey to us, and StarClan can take it away. We should give thanks to our warrior ancestors that we are able to eat at all. They provide every mouthful as well as our ability to hunt and feed ourselves. From the next Gathering, there will be an addition to the warrior code. Prey must be killed only to be eaten, and we must give thanks to StarClan for its life. This is the way of the warrior.”
CODE FIVE
A KIT MUST BE AT LEAST SIX MOONS OLD TO BECOME AN APPRENTICE.
It seems so obvious now that kits should not be allowed to fight until they are properly trained and strong enough to take on full-grown warriors. But it was not always like this. It took the love of a mother cat to put a stop to the destruction of fragile lives.
The Queens Unite
“Attack! Jump! Swipe! Roll! No, roll.”
Daisytail winced as Specklepaw scrambled to his feet and shook his head, panting. He looked dazed, and there was a bead of blood welling at the tip of one ear. His mentor, Slatepelt, nudged him toward the other apprentice in the training circle, Adderpaw.
“Try again,” Slatepelt instructed gently.
Daisytail couldn’t watch as Specklepaw launched himself at his rival. It seemed like only a moon ago that his freckled, pale brown head had nuzzled into her belly searching for milk. Adderpaw had been training for several moons longer and he looked full-grown next to Specklepaw, whose head barely reached his shoulder. There was a thud behind Daisytail, and she bit her tongue to stop herself from wailing out loud.