Warriors: Legends of the Clans

  “Medicine cats have to heal any cat, don’t they?” Spottedpaw mewed, her voice muffled because she was holding a dock leaf under her chin.

  Featherwhisker spat out a clump of soggy greenery. “Well, our code only says that we must help kits from any Clan, but I don’t know any medicine cat who would ignore a full-grown cat who was sick or injured.”

  “What about other animals?” asked Spottedpaw as she reached for the next leaf. “Would you help a mouse, or a bird?”

  The silver cat purred with amusement. “Do you think I should try to resuscitate the fresh-kill pile? Warriors are trained to kill cleanly so that our prey doesn’t suffer. We have to eat to survive; a medicine cat would not be helping his Clan if he tried to revive their fresh-kill.”

  “What about a fox, then? Or a badger?”

  “Animals that treat us as prey can take care of themselves,” Featherwhisker meowed firmly. “Have you finished rolling those leaves? You should have a rest.”

  Spottedpaw snuggled back into her nest. It was lined with thrush feathers, which reminded her of how Thistleclaw had gotten into trouble for giving her and Whitepaw feathers to play with. She wondered if Thistleclaw was worried about her. She didn’t want him to blame himself because she fell out of that stupid tree.

  “Hello? Are you receiving visitors?” A dark red face poked through the ferns.

  Spottedpaw lifted her head. “Poppydawn! Of course, come in.”

  Willowpaw bounced behind her mentor, hardly visible behind a large young thrush. She dropped it on the ground beside Spottedpaw’s nest. “I caught this for you!”

  “Wow! Thanks, Willowpaw!” Spottedpaw leaned out to sniff the fresh-kill. Her shoulder brushed against the edge of the nest and she winced.

  Willowpaw looked worried. “Does it still hurt?”

  Spottedpaw nodded.

  “When will you be able to start training again?” Willowpaw asked.

  Featherwhisker padded over and rolled the thrush to the side of the den. “She needs a few more days off her paws.”

  “She’s very young to suffer an injury like this,” meowed Poppydawn. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  “Excuse me, I am right here!” Spottedpaw butted in. “I’m going to be fine, aren’t I, Featherwhisker?”

  Featherwhisker was taking care to tuck the thrush out of the way. “We’ll see,” he mewed without looking up.

  Spottedpaw felt a flare of terror in her belly. Would her stupid accident prevent her from becoming a warrior? I wish I’d never climbed that tree!

  After two more days, Spottedpaw no longer dreamed that her leg was being eaten by a fox, or woke in pain if she rolled over in her nest. When Featherwhisker left to fetch more marigold for Mumblefoot’s tick bite, which was stubbornly refusing to heal, Spottedpaw decided to test how far she could walk. She’d been making her dirt in holes behind Featherwhisker’s den but she was determined to go all the way outside the camp this time. Goosefeather had gone out, muttering about finding peace and quiet with the elders, so the medicine den was empty.

  Gritting her teeth, Spottedpaw limped through the ferns and hobbled across the clearing. At first her paw throbbed when it touched the ground, but after several steps the pain became easier to bear and she found a way of rolling along that was almost comfortable.

  “Hey! You’re up!” Redpaw bounded over to her, his tail sticking straight up. He licked Spottedpaw’s cheek, which almost unbalanced her.

  “Careful!” she warned.

  Swiftbreeze jumped up from where she had been basking outside the warriors’ den. “Did Featherwhisker say you could leave your nest?” she fretted. “Where is he?” She looked around for the medicine cat.

  “He’s gathering herbs,” Spottedpaw admitted. “But look! I’m fine!” She wobbled triumphantly in a small circle.

  Sunstar entered the clearing at the head of a patrol. “Ah, good to see you back on your paws, Spottedpaw! We’ve missed you!”

  Spottedpaw glowed with pleasure. Even the Clan leader wanted her to be training! “I’m feeling much better,” she mewed. “I’ll be able to go back to my duties tomorrow, I think.”

  “Not so fast,” Sunstar purred. “Make sure you’re completely healed first.”

  The rest of Sunstar’s patrol spilled through the gorse tunnel. Tigerpaw roared in at top speed, then skidded to a halt by the fresh-kill pile. “I’m starving!” he declared. “Chasing off those kittypets was hard work, I can tell you!”

  “Really?” mewed Weedwhisker from his basking place outside the elders’ den. “A strong young apprentice like you, against some fat old kittypet?”

  Tigerpaw puffed out his chest. “They were totally scared of me! You should have seen how fast they ran!”

  A voice purred in Spottedpaw’s ear. “Tigerpaw didn’t look so brave when one of the kittypets stopped on top of the fence to hiss at him!”

  Spottedpaw turned to see Thistleclaw standing beside her. His amber eyes were shining. “You must be feeling better,” he commented. “It’s great to see you again!”

  “It’s great to see you, too,” Spottedpaw mewed, feeling hot to the tips of her ears. She wondered why Thistleclaw was looking at her so closely. Did she have moss on her muzzle?

  “Can I eat now?” Tigerpaw demanded, bouncing on his toes beside the heap of prey. “Weedwhisker has already taken a shrew for himself and Mumblefoot, and Larksong doesn’t want anything. My belly is empty!”

  Thistleclaw nodded. “Go on, then. Don’t fill yourself up too much, or you won’t be up to battle training after sunhigh.”

  “I won’t,” Tigerpaw promised through a mouthful of squirrel.

  Thistleclaw turned back to Spottedpaw. “What about you? Did you come out here to eat?”

  Spottedpaw shook her head. “I wanted to test my leg. I think I’m ready to go back to training now.”

  Thistleclaw’s eyes widened. “Wow, you really are determined, aren’t you?”

  “Of course! I don’t want my littermates to be warriors before me!”

  The gray-and-white warrior tilted his head on one side, studying her. “Would you like to go for a walk in the forest? If your leg feels okay, of course.”

  “I’d love to,” Spottedpaw mewed. “But don’t you want to have something to eat first?”

  Thistleclaw shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Come on, let’s go before Featherwhisker sends you back to your nest!”

  With a mischievous purr, he led Spottedpaw through the gorse tunnel. He waited while she visited the dirtplace, then walked slowly beside her up the ravine, letting her rest on his shoulder for the steepest parts. His fur was warmed by the sun and his muscles felt strong and smooth beneath his skin. Spottedpaw could hardly breathe by the time they reached the top—and not just because she hadn’t been out of her nest for so long.

  They stopped in the shade of some brambles so that Spottedpaw could catch her breath. Thistleclaw dipped his head toward her, concerned. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Featherwhisker will kill me if you come back in worse shape than before!”

  Spottedpaw blinked. “I’m fine, honestly. It hardly hurts at all.” She gave her shoulder a fast lick to ease the tingling. “I don’t want to miss any more training,” she confessed. “I’m worried that Sunstar will give Thrushpelt another apprentice if I stay in the medicine den too long.”

  “Sunstar wouldn’t do that,” Thistleclaw meowed. “Being a warrior is really important to you, isn’t it?”

  Spottedpaw pushed past the brambles and started walking along the path that led to Snakerocks. She guessed that Featherwhisker would have gone the other way because marigold grew beside the river. She didn’t want the medicine cat to send her back to the camp.

  “It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she told Thistleclaw. “I want to be the best warrior ThunderClan has ever seen, then deputy and then Clan leader.”

  Thistleclaw purred with amusement, and Spottedpaw winced. Did that make her sound like a silly kit with fluff in her
ears?

  “There’s nothing wrong with ambition,” Thistleclaw mewed. “We should all want to serve our Clan as best we can.”

  They ducked under some bracken, and Spottedpaw noticed Thistleclaw flinch as the brittle fronds brushed his ear. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  Thistleclaw flicked the tip of his tail. “It’s nothing,” he mewed, but Spottedpaw reared up on her hind legs to take a closer look. She was suddenly aware of how close their muzzles were, and how their warm breath was mingling in the still, leaf-scented air. Thistleclaw’s ear had a long scratch running from base to tip, and his fur was sticky with dried blood.

  “You’ve been clawed!” Spottedpaw gasped. “Was it one of the kittypets?”

  “As if one of those mange-balls would get anywhere near me!” Thistleclaw scoffed. “I’m fine, forget about it.” He stepped away and Spottedpaw almost lost her balance.

  “I could put some marigold on it, if you like,” she offered. “I’ve been helping Featherwhisker with his herbs, and I know how to use nearly all of them.”

  She thought Thistleclaw would be impressed, but he curled his lip. “Only the weak get injured in battle,” he growled. “If you are strong enough and fast enough, the only blood shed will be the blood of your enemies!”

  Spottedpaw blinked. “O-okay,” she stammered.

  Thistleclaw turned and took a pace back to her. He rested his chin on top of her head and she heard him sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just thinking about a fight that I lost—the one that gave me this scratch, actually. I won’t be beaten next time, I promise!”

  “I know you won’t,” Spottedpaw purred. She hardly dared to breathe because she didn’t want Thistleclaw to move. Standing here, in the glade beside Snakerocks, with the warrior’s scent wreathing around her and the pain in her shoulder little more than a dull ache, Spottedpaw thought she had never been happier. She could feel her heart pounding, and every blade of grass beneath her paws.

  Nothing in the world will stop me from becoming a warrior alongside you, Thistleclaw, she thought.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Spottedpaw wrapped the last shred of cobweb around the twig and stowed it neatly in the cleft in the rock beside the piles of herbs. “All done!” she declared. “Your store is much tidier now, Featherwhisker. Try not to mess it up again!”

  The silver-gray tom flicked her playfully with his tail. “Perhaps you should stay here to keep me in order,” he suggested. “Goosefeather would be glad of the help!” He nodded to the elderly medicine cat, who was dozing in the sun.

  Spottedpaw looked at Featherwhisker in alarm. “You don’t mean that, do you? You said my shoulder was healed enough to go back to training.”

  Featherwhisker purred. “No, you’re fit to train. But I’ve enjoyed having you here, Spottedpaw. If you ever change your mind about becoming a warrior, I’d be honored to have you as my apprentice.”

  “Never!” Spottedpaw meowed. The medicine cat blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But I’m going to be a warrior.”

  Featherwhisker nodded. “Well, good luck, and if you see any catmint while you’re on patrol, don’t forget to pick some. Our stores are very low.”

  “Will do!” Spottedpaw trotted through the ferns, careful not to disturb Goosefeather, and emerged in the sun-dappled clearing. Thrushpelt was outside the warriors’ den, his back arched in a stretch. Spottedpaw bounded over to him. “Featherwhisker said I can start training again!”

  “That’s excellent news,” Thrushpelt meowed. “We’ll do some hunting practice today, nothing too strenuous. I don’t think you should go on patrol for a while.”

  “I’m fine, honestly. My shoulder still aches a bit, but Featherwhisker is happy for me to do as much as I can.”

  The sandy-gray warrior twitched his ears. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  He headed toward the gorse tunnel. Willowpaw and Redpaw were bundling through, dragging a squirrel between them.

  “Wow!” mewed Spottedpaw. “Did you catch that?”

  “Yup!” Willowpaw announced. “And yesterday I nearly caught a pigeon!”

  Redpaw flicked her with his tail. “More like it nearly flew off with you!”

  Spottedpaw felt a stab of envy. Her injury had put her far behind her littermates. She would have to train twice as hard—if Thrushpelt allowed her.

  Thrushpelt beckoned to Spottedpaw with his tail and she trotted after him through the tunnel and up the ravine, stepping carefully to avoid jolting her shoulder. They plunged into the ferns, which were cool and damp after a recent fall of rain. Spottedpaw breathed deeply, enjoying the freshness after the stuffy, still air inside Featherwhisker’s den.

  Thrushpelt stopped in a clear space and sat down, curling his tail around his haunches. “Let’s start off with a hunting crouch, a sideways pounce, and some silent stalking.”

  Spottedpaw tucked her hind legs under her and balanced her weight over them. Her shoulder protested when she let her body slide backward but she kept her front paws resting lightly on the ground. When she sprang forward, she was careful to put more weight on her uninjured leg. She saw Thrushpelt narrow his eyes, watching for unsteadiness, but she kept her balance by sinking her claws into the dusty soil. Her mentor nodded. Spottedpaw relaxed, then gathered herself for the sideways pounce. She deliberately went toward her strong side but she still jarred her shoulder and let out a whimper.

  “Take it easy,” Thrushpelt murmured. “You’re doing well.”

  Spottedpaw finished by stepping softly across the glade, lowering each paw onto the grass without making a sound. She had always enjoyed stalking. She might not be the fastest runner among the apprentices, or the strongest, but she could creep up on anything!

  “Let’s go see if there is an easy catch or two waiting for us,” Thrushpelt meowed. “You obviously haven’t forgotten any of your hunting skills.” He stood up and let Spottedpaw take the lead. She headed toward treecutplace, knowing it would be easier to hunt without getting tangled up in undergrowth. She wasn’t going to chase any squirrels up trees, though!

  The pine trees were still and quiet, strongly scented from the rain. Spottedpaw and Thrushpelt padded across the bed of needles until the red dens of Twolegplace were visible between the trunks. Spottedpaw picked up a hint of something warm and furry—a rabbit or perhaps a vole—and bent her nose to the ground, following the trail.

  A line of glossy-leaved bushes grew at the edge of the trees. The scent trail vanished among the branches. Spottedpaw wriggled underneath and cast around, but there was no trace of it. Suddenly she heard voices and froze.

  “What are you doing here? This is ThunderClan territory!” That was Thistleclaw, but who was he talking to? Spottedpaw peered through the branches but could only see the swath of bright green grass running beside the Twolegplace fence.

  Then Bluefur spoke: “Thistleclaw, he’s only a kit. He’s no threat.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. Spottedpaw crawled toward the edge of the bush, dragging her belly silently through the dust and leaf scraps. A tiny black kit was standing muzzle-deep in the grass, facing Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw. Bluefur stood behind Thistleclaw, her fur fluffed up.

  “An intruder is an intruder, Bluefur!” Thistleclaw growled. “You’ve always been too soft on them.” He looked at Tigerpaw, who was bouncing on his toes. “Here, let’s put it to my apprentice. What do you think, Tigerpaw? How should we handle this?”

  Tigerpaw’s eyes gleamed. “I think the kittypet should be taught a lesson. One it’ll remember.”

  Spottedpaw felt her belly flip over. This was not going to end well.

  “Now, hold on, there’s no need for this . . .” Bluefur begged, lunging forward.

  Thistleclaw spun to face her. “Shut up!”

  At the same moment, Tigerpaw hurled himself at the kit. The tiny black cat flew across the ground and landed with a thud. Spottedpaw winced. Surely it would turn tail and flee now?

  “Get up!” snarled T
igerpaw.

  The kit scrabbled its paws in the dirt but before it could stand, Tigerpaw pounced on it and held it down. He raked its muzzle with bare claws, then slashed down its flank. Bright red lines of blood sprang onto the glossy black fur.

  “Show it your teeth, Tigerpaw!” Thistleclaw urged.

  The apprentice bit deep into the kit’s shoulder. The kit let out a terrible screech and tried desperately to get away. Spottedpaw gathered her haunches beneath her, ready to spring out and rescue the helpless little cat. No kittypet deserved to be treated like this!

  Before she could move, a blue-gray blur shot across the grass and Bluefur blocked Tigerpaw’s path to the kit. “Stop, Tigerpaw!” she yowled. “That’s enough! Warriors don’t need to kill to win a battle, remember?”

  Tigerpaw narrowed his eyes. The kit’s blood dripped from his teeth and pooled on the dusty ground. “I was just defending our territory.”

  “And you’ve done that,” Bluefur meowed more quietly. “This kit has learned its lesson.”

  Behind her, the kit stood up and stared in terror at Tigerpaw.

  Tigerpaw glared back. “Yeah, you’ll never forget me!” He took one step forward and the kit fled with a whimper, limping into the grass and vanishing under the nearest fence.

  Bluefur let the fur rise along her spine. “If I ever see you do something like that again, I’ll report you to Sunstar!”

  Thistleclaw bared his teeth. “We were only defending ThunderClan from invaders.”

  “That so-called invader was a kit!” Bluefur pointed out.

  “That’s his problem,” Thistleclaw mewed. He beckoned to Tigerpaw with his tail and stalked into the pine trees. The dappled shadows swallowed them up, leaving Bluefur alone, her pelt ruffled with anger.

  Spottedpaw took a deep breath and backed out of the bush. She was shaking with horror at Tigerpaw’s hostility toward the defenseless kit. If Bluefur hadn’t stopped him, would he have killed that tiny kittypet? Spottedpaw pictured the deep scratch on Thistleclaw’s ear, and wondered where it had come from. Had Tigerpaw caught him unawares during a mock battle? Was that why Thistleclaw had seemed so angry about his injury?