Firestar’s Quest

Shortwhisker shivered. “No, Clovertail’s right. You have to stay awake the night a cat dies; otherwise you die too. My mother told me that.”

“It’s true,” Sharpclaw meowed. “Remember Foxy? He went to sleep the night his brother died, and a couple of days later a monster got him.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Leafdapple put in.

“But it’s not true.” Firestar spoke firmly, seeing that the former kittypets were giving one another anxious glances.

He’d talk to the rogues later about this intriguing superstition that must have sprung from Clan traditions, even though the Clan itself had been forgotten. “We stay awake, yes, but only to honor the fallen cat on its journey to StarClan. It doesn’t have anything to do with believing that we’ll die if we don’t.”

“Not every cat sits vigil for the whole of the night,” Sandstorm went on. “Just those who were closest to the dead cat.

But tonight I think the whole Clan should do it, because there aren’t many of us.”

“We’re his kin, aren’t we?” Sparrowpaw asked. “Those of us with SkyClan blood.”

Firestar dipped his head. “Yes, you are. We’ll all keep watch, and in the morning we’ll bury him. It’s usually the elders who do that, but Sandstorm and I will do it for Skywatcher.”

“I’d like to help,” Cherrypaw mewed; the young tortoiseshell looked unusually subdued. “We never told him we were sorry for calling him names.”

“I wish we had,” Sparrowpaw added miserably.

Sandstorm touched his ear with her nose. “I think he knew.

He saw you become Clan apprentices, and that’s what he wanted most of all… to see his Clan being made strong again.”

As the sun went down and shadows filled the gorge, the Clan gathered for Skywatcher’s vigil. Firestar and Sandstorm crouched closest to him, pushing their noses into his cold gray fur. Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw sat a little way away, with the rest of the Clan. Clovertail hesitated, but settled down at the foot of the cliff with her kits snuggled into her fur as if they were going to sleep as usual. Shortwhisker looked most anxious, and Firestar wondered if he had deliberately sat down on a sharp-edged stone in order to keep him from dozing off.

The last daylight faded from the sky; the clouds had cleared away and the warriors of StarClan began to appear overhead. After a while Firestar realized that the Clan were becoming restless. He could hear shifting and muttering behind him. Cherrypaw let out a huge yawn and her eyes closed; she jerked awake again as Sparrowpaw prodded her in the side.

Then Firestar heard Clovertail’s voice whispering in his ear. “I’m sorry, Firestar, It’s getting cold, and if you’re sure it’s safe to go to sleep, I’d like to take my kits back to the cave.”

“That’s fine,” he murmured.

As she withdrew, he heard another cat rise and follow her up the stony trail; glancing around he saw that it was Sharpclaw. Shortwhisker and Patchfoot were mewing quietly to each other; after a few heartbeats Shortwhisker moved away, but only to sit by himself on a rock a few fox-lengths farther down the stream. Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw, for all their good intentions, had fallen asleep. Only Leafdapple remained, her gaze fixed on the stars.

Firestar suppressed a sigh. These cats didn’t understand properly what it meant to live the life of a warrior and to follow the warrior code. They would need to learn the importance of the vigil—among so many other things—before they would truly be a Clan. But at least they seemed to trust him when he said they wouldn’t die if they fell asleep tonight.

Perhaps it had been easier to stay awake when they were leading less orderly lives, without dawn patrols and hunting patrols and cave duties to tire them out.

Stretching stiff limbs, he gazed up at Silverpelt’s frosty fire and wondered which of those glittering points of light was the spirit of Skywatcher. Have you found your way to SkyClan’s warrior ancestors? He hoped so; if any cat deserved to walk among the stars, it was Skywatcher.

Moonlight shining through the cave entrance woke

Firestar, and glancing around the den he realized that Shortwhisker wasn’t there. Worried, he poked his head outside and spotted the tabby tom sitting on the rock by the river, where he had gone three nights before when the Clan kept vigil for Skywatcher.

Firestar padded down to join him; as he approached Shortwhisker jumped, and a defensive look flickered in his eyes.

“Did you want me?” he began.

“No, not for anything in particular.” Firestar sprang up onto the rock beside him. “But I get the feeling you’re not happy. If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.”

Shortwhisker edged to one side to make room for him.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he meowed. “Everything’s fine. I’m learning stuff I never imagined before. It’s just… well, there are so many cats. Especially when we’re all sleeping together in the den. I’ve been used to living on my own with my housefolk.”