Firestar’s Quest

He stared out at his enemies, the moonlight washing over them so that their bodies merged together like ripples on a lake. And as he watched the tide ebb and flow, he began to realize what Spottedleaf had meant. He had thought of the rats as a swarm of bees or a dog pack, taking their orders from their leader, but Spottedleaf had shown him it was more than that. These creatures were like a single enemy; the individual rats had no minds of their own. They took their orders from one rat alone, passed from body to body in visible signals, a twitch of fur or flick of tail, the brush of one flank against another. If he watched the ripples, they should lead him to the rat he was looking for.

The rats edged a little closer. Firestar was aware of Sandstorm beside him, her pelt brushing his, her claws digging into the tree root where she stood poised to spring. Hardly daring to breathe, he stared out at the rats, knowing that they could strike at any moment. He forced himself to stop looking at one pair of eyes here, a snakelike tail there, and studied them like the surface of a single lake.

Icy claws pricked his spine. Sure enough, he could make out tiny stirrings of movement circling a central point, the place from where the leader’s silent commands rippled outward. And at that central point, a single rat gazed toward the besieged cats.

Firestar narrowed his eyes. There was no time to explain what he was doing to the rest of the patrol. He had just one chance, one chance to ensure that he had not traveled here in vain, and SkyClan would live on. Unsheathing his claws, he leaped, legs outstretched, into the middle of the mass of rats.

Horrified wails rose from the cats behind him. He heard Sandstorm screech, “Firestar!”

Her voice was drowned out by the single shriek that rose from the throats of every rat, and they rushed upon him like a thick brown wave. But Firestar’s claws struck their target, tearing at the throat of the rat at the center of the tide. He gazed into the small, hate-filled eyes, and saw their hatred change to terror before the light faded from them. The rat’s head dropped back and its body went limp.

For a heartbeat Firestar stood still, his paws sticky with blood. Rats milled around him, squeaking and hissing in confusion. With their leader dead, they did not know what to do next.

“Follow me! Attack!” The yowl came from Sharpclaw, and suddenly Firestar’s Clanmates were all around him, claws lashing at their enemies. Gibbering in terror, the rats fled back toward the barn, scrabbling at the shiny walls in their efforts to get in and hide. The SkyClan cats raced past Firestar, dealing a death blow to any rat too slow to get out of their way.

“Stay away from us!” Sharpclaw screeched after them.

“The gorge is ours. We’ll kill any rats who set paw there!”

Leafdapple halted at the gap, stopping the rest of the SkyClan cats from following the rats inside. “Let them go,” she meowed. “They’re not dangerous anymore. Not now.”

She padded back to Firestar, who still stood over the body of his dead enemy, and bowed her head in deepest gratitude.

“The battle is won. Thanks to you, SkyClan is safe.”

When the rats had fled, Firestar ventured into the barn with Sharpclaw and Leafdapple. Two or three rats were still visible, sniffing at the bodies of their dead companions, but when they spotted the cats they let out squeals of alarm and scurried into the shelter of the Twoleg rubbish at the far end of the barn.

Rainfur’s body lay stretched out on the floor. Dead rats lay all around him, and his claws were still fastened in the throat of one of them. His gray fur was torn with wounds.

“He died like a warrior,” Leafdapple murmured.

“We’ll carry him back to the gorge and sit vigil for him,” Firestar meowed.

In silence they took up his body and maneuvered it through the gap in the barn wall. The rest of the Clan clustered around them to help bear Rainfur through the fence and back across the scrubland to the gorge, under the light of the chill moon. His body drooped, his paws and tail dragging in the dust, and his fur was matted with blood.

As Sharpclaw and Leafdapple carried their dead Clanmate down the stony trail, Echosong appeared at the entrance to the nursery. “You’re back!” she exclaimed. She broke off at the sight of Rainfur’s broken body, and sorrow welled in her eyes.

“I’ll tell Petalnose,” she whispered.

She slipped around the boulder, and a moment later

Firestar heard a wail of anguish.

“Go on,” he murmured to Sharpclaw and Leafdapple. “Lay his body beside the Rockpile. I’ll join you in a few moments.”

Taking a deep breath, he padded into the nursery. Petalnose was crouched over her kits, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. Echosong pressed comfortingly against her side, but Firestar didn’t think the gray she-cat was aware of her.

“I’m sorry,” he meowed. “He died like a warrior.”

Petalnose shivered and focused her eyes on him. “He died protecting what he loved most,” she whispered. “Me, and his kits, and his new Clan.”