Firestar’s Quest

Sandstorm stood beside him. Since Spottedleaf’s visit earlier that morning, Patchfoot had improved so much that she had told Firestar she could leave him for a while to come to this meeting. “Don’t wait too long,” she advised, with a twitch of her ears. “Otherwise the rats will come and we won’t be ready for them.”

Firestar knew she was right. “I want a permanent watch on the Skyrock.”

“We should send extra patrols out to the Twoleg barn, too,” Leafdapple suggested.

Firestar nodded. “Right, but not too close. I don’t want a fight until we’re ready.”

“I’ll sort out the patrols,” Sandstorm meowed. “And the training schedules.”

“Watches and extra patrols and battle training?”

Cherrypaw’s eyes were wide with dismay. “It sounds like really hard work.”

“You’d rather have your throat torn out by a rat?”

Sharpclaw flicked his tail over the young tortoiseshell’s ear, and she sprang back with an indignant hiss. “My apprentice will do as she’s told, and do it without complaining.”

Cherrypaw opened her jaws to protest, but Firestar silenced her with a flick of his ears. “We can get started,” he meowed, “unless you have any other suggestions?”

Rainfur rose to his paws. “Petal and I want to be trained as well.”

“That’s right.” Petal looked nervous to be speaking in front of the whole Clan. “The kits are too small for us to leave yet, and we want to be ready to defend ourselves.”

“Thank you.” Firestar dipped his head. “We’re glad to have you. Sandstorm will add you to the training schedule.”

“Either Clovertail or I must stay with the kits,” Petal pointed out.

“Don’t worry,” Sandstorm replied. “I’ll work around that.

Are there any more questions? Right,” she went on when no cat responded, “Leafdapple and Sharpclaw, you can be the first patrol. Cherrypaw, will you keep watch on the Skyrock?

Give me a few moments to check on Patchfoot, and then I’ll lead a training session with Sparrowpaw and Rainfur, and Petal, you can join us, as Clovertail’s with the kits right now.”

“What about me?” Shortwhisker asked.

“You can come with me on a hunting patrol,” Firestar replied. “We’ll need all the fresh-kill we can get to keep our strength up. One more thing,” he added before the cats split up for their duties. “No cat leaves the camp alone from now on. And every cat must stay alert. If the rats come, they’ll find us ready and waiting.”

He dismissed the meeting with a wave of his tail.

Sharpclaw and Leafdapple sprang up the rocks toward the top of the cliff, and Cherrypaw followed, taking the trail that led to the Skyrock. Petal, Rainfur, and Sparrowpaw made their way up the gorge toward the training area.

Asking Shortwhisker to wait for him, Firestar padded beside Sandstorm as she headed for the medicine cat’s cave.

“You know, Cherrypaw was right,” he meowed. “It will be hard work. We don’t have enough cats to prepare for a rat attack as well as all the regular duties.” He sighed. “I’d give my pelt to have a patrol of ThunderClan warriors here now.”

“Well, you can’t.” Sandstorm rasped her tongue over his ear. “But don’t worry. You’ll find a way. You defeated Scourge, and you’ll defeat these rats.”

Firestar wished he shared her confidence. “At least

Spottedleaf told us what to do for Patchfoot.”

“True,” Sandstorm replied, “but it just goes to show how much we need a medicine cat.”

“Medicine cats are born, not made. And I’ve yet to see any SkyClan cat show any connection with their warrior ancestors. None of them heard anything when they went into the Whispering Cave.”

“We should have a cat who knows about herbs and can treat injuries, at least,” Sandstorm pointed out, with an impatient twitch of her tail. “I could teach one of them what I know. It would be a start.”

Firestar paused on the trail just below the entrance to the medicine cat’s den. “Sharpclaw wouldn’t do,” he mused. “He’s far too good a warrior. Clovertail has kits… What about Shortwhisker?”

Sandstorm shook her head. “He froze at the sight of blood when Patchfoot was injured.”

“Leafdapple, then?”

“Maybe…” Sandstorm mused. “She cares about weaker cats.”

“I know,” Firestar decided. “If Spottedleaf visits me, I can ask her.”

Sandstorm glanced away for a moment, then faced him again. “Yes, that’s a good idea,” she murmured.

Firestar curled up in the warriors’ den, his legs aching and his head spinning with tiredness. Three days had passed since he had organized the new schedule of patrols and training, and every cat had been on their paws from dawn to sunset.

That morning he had led a patrol to the Twoleg barn, then spent the rest of the day hunting. The moon was already climbing the sky before he had the chance to sleep, and he would have to wake later to take his turn watching on the Skyrock.

How long can we keep this up?

No sooner had Firestar closed his eyes than he found himself standing on the Skyrock. The moon floated high above his head and Silverpelt glittered across the sky. The night was silent except for the rushing of the river far below.