Firestar's Quest Page 7

“Calm down,” Raggedpaw mewed. “This is what warriors do.”

  “Yeah,” Scorchpaw added. “It’s just part of living in a Clan.”

  “It’s your first time in battle too,” Nutpaw snorted, “so don’t pretend you’re not excited.”

  Yellowpaw could see that her littermate was right. Scorchpaw was working his claws in the grass, and Raggedpaw’s amber eyes gleamed.

  Stonetooth gathered the patrol with a wave of his tail. “I’ll lead,” he announced. “Brackenfoot, you bring up the rear, and keep an eye out for trouble behind.” The pale ginger tom nodded. Turning to the apprentices, Stonetooth went on. “Listen to everything I say. We won’t attack right away. We’ll give WindClan a chance to explain themselves first.”

  “Like they’ll be able to explain WindClan scent and pigeon feathers inside our borders,” Deerleap snarled.

  The patrol set off in single file. Yellowpaw was close to the rear, just ahead of Raggedpaw and her father. The tunnel under the Thunderpath was narrower than she had realized—much smaller than the one Deerleap had shown her on their first tour of the territory—and dark. Yellowpaw jumped, her heart beginning to pound, at a roaring noise that seemed to fill the whole of it.

  “It’s okay,” Brackenfoot meowed from behind her. “It’s only monsters going past on the Thunderpath.”

  Forcing herself to relax, Yellowpaw followed the scent of Crowtail, who was walking in front of her. I wonder what would happen if we met WindClan cats coming the other way. She tried to work out how she could use her battle moves in such a tight space. Soon she could scent fresh air coming from somewhere ahead. A few heartbeats later Crowtail scrambled upward, showering scraps of earth and debris down on Yellowpaw. Blinking, Yellowpaw followed, and broke out into the open. As Raggedpaw and Brackenfoot emerged after her, she took a huge breath and looked around.

  I’m on WindClan territory now!

  Yellowpaw felt as if every hair on her pelt was standing on end with the thrill of being across enemy borders. Behind her, monsters roared up and down the Thunderpath. In front, a wide stretch of grass swelled to the horizon in an unbroken sweep. Wind blew from the hilltop toward the ShadowClan cats, ruffling their fur and bringing with it the scents of cats and rabbits.

  Stonetooth waved his tail. “This way. Stay together.”

  “I’m surprised the WindClan cats can catch anything in these open spaces,” Yellowpaw mewed to Nutpaw as they followed the Clan deputy toward the top of the moor.

  “I know,” Nutpaw agreed. “I can hardly hear myself speak, with the wind in my ear fur.”

  “Look!” Rowanpaw flicked her tail over Yellowpaw’s shoulder.

  Gazing upward, Yellowpaw spotted a scrawny WindClan warrior outlined against the sky. The cat stood motionless for a heartbeat, then turned tail and vanished down the other side of the hill.

  “Gone to warn his Clanmates,” Nutpaw muttered.

  “I still can’t believe how skinny they are!” Yellowpaw mewed. “And their smell is weird, like rabbits and windblown grass.”

  She remembered the first time she had seen WindClan cats, at her first Gathering almost a moon ago, but the memory was blurred. There were so many cats … so much noise … She had looked forward to her first Gathering for as long as she could remember, but it had been overwhelming, busy and full of chatter and conflicting scents. Yellowpaw had felt too timid to go and talk to any cats from the rival Clans, instead staying among the ShadowClan apprentices. Afterward she had felt stupid and embarrassed for being so shy, but Deerleap told her lots of apprentices felt that way, and sometimes even senior warriors. The next Gathering would be easier, she promised.

  Now Yellowpaw felt strong and confident as she strode out across the moor. I’m part of a ShadowClan patrol. I’m going to fight for my Clan!

  When the ShadowClan cats reached the brow of the hill, they spotted a patrol of WindClan cats heading across the moor toward them. Stonetooth halted, signaling with his tail for the rest to do the same. “We’ll let them come to us,” he meowed.

  Leading the WindClan patrol was a light brown tabby tom. Yellowpaw remembered Deerleap pointing him out to her at the Gathering; he was Reedfeather, the WindClan deputy. Stonetooth stepped forward to face Reedfeather as the WindClan cats approached.

  “What are you doing on our territory?” Reedfeather demanded.

  “Don’t you know?” Stonetooth challenged. “We found pigeon feathers on our side of the Thunderpath, with WindClan scent and paw marks. You’ve been stealing our prey!”

  “We’ve done nothing of the sort,” Reedfeather retorted. “We chased that pigeon from our own territory, and that makes it WindClan prey.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it,” Stonetooth growled, sliding out his claws.

  Reedfeather tensed his muscles, his neck fur bristling. Yellowpaw could smell his fear. The WindClan patrol was smaller, and the cats looked too weak and skinny to fight well. For a moment Yellowpaw felt a pang of sympathy. These cats look as if they haven’t had a good meal in moons. Maybe they deserved that pigeon. Then she gave herself a shake. That’s mouse-brained! I’m a ShadowClan warrior—or I will be soon—and these are my enemies!

  “You need to leave,” Reedfeather hissed. “You’re not welcome on our territory.”

  “We’re not going anywhere until you’ve been taught a lesson,” Stonetooth responded.

  Yellowpaw saw Reedfeather’s gaze flicker. “All right,” he mewed wearily. “You’ve made your point. We’ll stay on our own side of the border from now on.”

  Stonetooth didn’t reply with words. Instead, he leaped onto the WindClan deputy, bearing him to the ground. A heartbeat later, fighting exploded all around Yellowpaw. For a moment she stood frozen; the whole world seemed to be filled with screeching, clawing cats, and she didn’t know which paw to use first.

  Then she pulled herself together and lunged at a WindClan cat who was on top of Nutpaw, pummeling him with strong paws. The WindClan cat lashed out at her with a wild blow that only riffled her whiskers, then scrambled away.

  “Thanks!” Nutpaw gasped.

  Yellowpaw whirled around as she felt a burning scratch all down one side, but she couldn’t spot the cat who had dealt the blow. Instead, a huge dark tabby tom bore down on her, his amber eyes blazing. Yellowpaw gulped. She had thought of these cats as small and skinny, but they were full-grown, and this one was much bigger than she was. Frantically she tried to remember her battle moves. She darted at the WindClan tom, intending to strike a blow and spring back out of range, but the tom was ready for her. He ducked away from her claws and swiped her so hard over the ear with one forepaw that she staggered and for a heartbeat the sky went dark. She lashed out again, remembering the move that Raggedpaw had helped her practice, but as she tried to twist in the air the tom batted her down so that she landed all wrong.

  He’s too strong, Yellowpaw thought despairingly as she struggled to her paws again.

  “Out of the way!” A voice sounded in Yellowpaw’s ear and a paw scooped her to one side. With a gasp of shock she saw Raggedpaw flash past her and hurl himself onto the big tom. Raggedpaw’s claws dug into the WindClan warrior’s shoulders and blood started to well up. With a yowl of pain the tom flung Raggedpaw off and fled. Raggedpaw sprang to his paws, ignoring Yellowpaw, then dashed into a fight between Scorchpaw and Reedfeather.

  Yellowpaw stayed where she was, panting. Raggedpaw thought he had to rescue me! she thought indignantly, but she couldn’t help admiring his courage and his fighting skill. As she rose to her paws again she winced with pain; it felt as if every scrap of her pelt had been ripped off. But when she checked her fur and flexed each paw in turn, she couldn’t find any wounds except for the scratch along her side.

  Glancing around to find another opponent, Yellowpaw realized that the fight was all but over. Most of the WindClan cats were pelting across the moor. Reedfeather was the last to break away and race after his Clanmates, with Rowanpaw hard on his paws.

  “
No!” Stonetooth commanded. “Rowanpaw, come back!” As Yellowpaw’s sister returned, growling angrily, the Clan deputy continued, “There is no need to pursue a defeated enemy.”

  Yellowpaw thought she could discern sympathy in the deputy’s voice and his eyes as he gazed after the vanishing WindClan patrol. But he did not admit as much out loud. Instead he raised his tail. “Back to our territory,” he ordered. “There’s nothing more to do here.”

  As they headed back down the hill toward the tunnel, the apprentices bunched together.

  “Did you see me scratch that black she-cat’s nose?” Nutpaw puffed. “She ran like a rabbit!”

  “I did the latest move Finchflight taught me,” Rowanpaw put in. “The WindClan cat looked so surprised!”

  Yellowpaw couldn’t join in their chattering. With every heartbeat, she was growing more annoyed that Raggedpaw had flung her aside in the battle. None of the other apprentices had to be rescued. Does he think I can’t fight?

  The rest of ShadowClan greeted the returning patrol with yowls of welcome.

  “Thank you all,” Cedarstar meowed, meeting them in the center of the camp. “You have shown our enemies that we in ShadowClan have teeth and claws to defend what is ours. Tonight we will hold a feast in your honor.”

  Extra hunting patrols went out, and as the sun set the whole Clan gathered in the clearing to eat. Yellowpaw felt proud and a bit embarrassed when she and the rest of the patrol were allowed to choose the best pieces of fresh-kill before any of the other warriors.

  “I can’t believe we got to go on a real mission!” she whispered to Nutpaw as she settled down with a plump starling.

  “I wish I’d been there,” Toadskip meowed, digging his claws into the floor of the camp. “But I was out on a hunting patrol. I have the worst luck.”

  “There’ll be other chances,” Hollyflower told him with a twitch of her whiskers. “WindClan isn’t going to go away.”

  “And ShadowClan will be ready for them,” Archeye added.

  A shiver of delight went through Yellowpaw as she listened to the senior warriors. I’m glad I belong to such a strong Clan!

  When the Clan was full-fed and lay drowsily sharing tongues, Stonetooth rose to his paws and told the story of the battle against WindClan so that every cat could hear.

  “WindClan won’t bother us again for a very long time,” he finished, “and part of that is thanks to the five apprentices who were with us. Our Clan should be proud of them.”

  “Those are wise words,” Cedarstar responded, rising to stand beside his deputy. “And from what you tell me, there is already a new warrior among us. Raggedpaw, come here.”

  The dark tabby tom sprang up from his place beside Scorchpaw. For a moment he hesitated, glancing around wildly; then he padded forward to stand in front of his leader. Murmurs of surprise rose from the rest of the Clan.

  The Clan was silent again as Cedarstar raised his tail and began to address them. “I, Cedarstar, leader of ShadowClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice,” he meowed. “He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and he has proven in battle that he is worthy to become a warrior. Raggedpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

  Raggedpaw’s voice rang out clear and confident. “I do.”

  “Then by the power of StarClan I give you your warrior name,” Cedarstar went on. “Raggedpaw, from this time on, you shall be known as Raggedpelt. StarClan honors your courage and your skill in battle.” He bent his head to rest his muzzle on Raggedpelt’s head, and Raggedpelt licked his shoulder in response.

  “Raggedpelt! Raggedpelt! Raggedpelt!” the Clan yowled, their eyes gleaming in the gathering darkness.

  Yellowpaw joined in somewhat reluctantly. I still feel bruised all over from being thrown out of the way as if I was a troublesome kit. She noticed Scorchpaw looking furious that he hadn’t been made a warrior along with his brother, and felt a stab of sympathy. It must be tough, falling behind your littermate.

  As the yowls died away, Yellowpaw was surprised to see Raggedpelt padding across the clearing toward her. He halted in front of her and dipped his head. “Yellowpaw, I’m sorry I pushed you aside in the battle,” he mewed. “It’s not that I think you can’t fight, but that WindClan cat was too strong for you.”

  Yellowpaw opened her jaws for a stinging retort, then stopped herself. Remembering the huge WindClan tom, she had to admit he was right. I’d be licking my wounds in Sagewhisker’s den right now, if it wasn’t for Raggedpelt. “It’s okay,” she muttered.

  Raggedpelt let out a brief purr. “I’m looking forward to joining you on patrols when you’re a warrior,” he told her, then dipped his head again and padded off to join the other warriors.

  Rowanpaw leaned closer to Yellowpaw, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Raggedpelt likes you,” she teased.

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” Yellowpaw retorted. “He’s just a Clanmate, that’s all.”

  But as she watched Raggedpelt join Brackenfoot and Featherstorm outside the warriors’ den, Yellowpaw felt a warm glow spreading through her from ears to tail-tip.

  Raggedpelt came looking for me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m a troublesome kit anymore!

  CHAPTER 7

  A full moon floated in the sky, shedding silver light over the four great oaks of Fourtrees. With her Clanmates all around her, Yellowpaw followed Cedarstar as he wound around clumps of fern toward the bottom of the hollow. The ShadowClan cats were the last to arrive, and the slopes were already crowded with the cats of the other three Clans.

  It was only Yellowpaw’s second Gathering, and she was still daunted by the number of eyes gleaming from the shadows, and the unfamiliar scents. The yowls of the assembled warriors echoed around the hollow, with the four trees looming above them all.

  “You’ll be fine,” Brightflower murmured, slipping to her side as they reached the base of the slope.

  “Of course you will,” Brackenfoot agreed. “I used to get nervous when I first went to Gatherings. Look, sit here.” He waved his tail to a spot sheltered by overarching fronds of bracken. “You’ll get a good view, but you won’t be seen easily, and the ferns will keep other cats from crowding you too much.”

  Yellowpaw touched her father’s shoulder with her nose, grateful for his understanding, then settled down in the spot he had pointed out. She watched as Archeye, Featherstorm, and Toadskip padded past her, and the rest of her Clan found spaces for themselves.

  “Who are those cats?” she asked Brackenfoot, angling her ears toward two sleek, well-fed warriors. “I don’t remember seeing them last time. They look … different somehow.”

  “That’s Oakheart and Timberfur from RiverClan,” her father replied. “We don’t see much of them because we don’t have a border with them.”

  “The reason they look plump and shiny is because they eat fish from the river,” Brightflower added. “But they’re just warriors like the rest of us.”

  Yellowpaw wrinkled her nose. She had caught a minnow once, in one of the streams that ran through ShadowClan territory, and she hadn’t much liked it. I’m glad I’m not a RiverClan cat.

  She couldn’t ask any more questions because Cedarstar leaped onto the Great Rock to join the other three leaders. Yellowpaw’s nervousness ebbed, and she felt a prickle of curiosity. What news will the other leaders tell us tonight?

  Then she suppressed a sigh as Foxpaw bounced into sight, pushing her way through the undergrowth to Raggedpelt’s side.

  “Raggedpelt!” she panted. “There are some RiverClan apprentices over here, and I’ve been telling them how you fought off the WindClan warriors. Come and meet them.”

  Raggedpelt shook his head.

  “Come on!” Foxpaw nudged him impatiently. “They want to see your fighting moves.”

  Yellowpaw spotted a glint of anger in Raggedpelt’s eyes. “No,” he meowed. “The Gathering is a time of peace
. There’s no fighting allowed—and you shouldn’t be stirring up trouble by talking about battles between the Clans.”

  Foxpaw glared at him. “You think you know everything, just because you’re a warrior now!” Spinning around, she stormed off.

  Raggedpelt shrugged and started looking for a place to sit. Still feeling slightly in awe of his new warrior status, Yellowpaw stood up and went over to him.

  “Foxpaw is a stupid furball,” she muttered. “You were right not to—”

  She broke off as WindClan scent wafted over her and she realized that several young warriors had surrounded her and Raggedpelt, pacing around them so they couldn’t keep an eye on all of them at once. Yellowpaw recognized at least one of them who had been in the battle on WindClan territory. He was the first to speak.

  “Not so brave now, are you?” he sneered. “Not without your mentor and your Clanmates.”

  Yellowpaw felt Raggedpelt tense beneath his fur. “This isn’t the time to talk about fighting,” he replied.

  One of the other WindClan cats gave a snort of disgust. “That’s a good excuse!”

  “Go away, flea-pelts!” Yellowpaw snapped. “You wouldn’t dare say that to Raggedpelt if he was allowed to fight you.”

  “Oh, so you’re Raggedpelt now,” a third WindClan cat put in. “ShadowClan must be really short of warriors.”

  “Yeah, he needs an apprentice to defend him,” the third cat mewed contemptuously. “Just what you’d expect from a kittypet.”

  Yellowpaw saw Raggedpelt freeze. That’s the worst thing any cat could say to him!

  Raggedpelt’s claws slid out. He spun around to face the cat who was taunting him. “What did you just call me?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it again, and I’ll slice your ears off!”

  No! Yellowpaw thought, fighting back panic. Raggedpelt will get into all kinds of trouble if he fights at a Gathering. Swiftly she jumped between the two cats. “Where did you hear that?” she challenged the WindClan warrior.

  “Every cat knows it,” he retorted. “Still, I admit that Raggedpelt fights well … for a soft kitty.”