Firestar’s Quest

“What do you think?” Smudge asked nervously. “Do I have to come and live in the forest?”

Firestar knew he had to decide how much to tell his friend.

Though his faith in StarClan had been badly shaken, he still felt some loyalty toward them. At least, he didn’t think he could tell Smudge how StarClan had allowed SkyClan to be driven from the forest, and then lied about it afterward.

Besides, if he tried to explain, how much would Smudge understand? He had no idea about the warrior code, or what it was like to live in a Clan.

“Don’t worry about it,” he meowed at last. “There’s no reason for you to leave your Twolegs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I know a bit about these dreams already, and I’m trying to sort everything out.”

Smudge looked puzzled but relieved as well. “I guess I’ll let you handle it, then.”

Firestar was glad he didn’t think to ask how a forest cat—even a Clan leader—could know about another cat’s dreams.

“I’ll come back with you to your Twoleg nest,” he mewed.

“Just in case any of those violent ruffians are still hanging about.”

Smudge looked down at his messy fur and gave it a few swift licks. Then he and Firestar padded side by side through the trees. As the Twoleg fence came into sight, Firestar spotted a vole pattering through the long grass. He made a swift pounce, and straightened up with the limp body hanging from his jaws; he tried to push down a stirring of pride that he had been able to show off his hunting skills in front of Smudge.

His friend’s eyes were wide, but not with admiration.

“Don’t you ever get tired of having to catch your own food?”

Firestar dropped his fresh-kill and scraped leaves over it so that he could collect it later. “No, never. That’s what warriors do.”

Smudge shrugged, and went on toward his nest. Catching up with him, Firestar spotted another cat, a pretty brown tabby, jumping down from the fence around the Twoleg nest where he had once lived. He remembered seeing her before when he had been showing the territory to his new apprentice, Bramblepaw.

“Hi,” she meowed. Her amber eyes examined Firestar without a trace of fear. “Who’s this, Smudge? I’ve never seen him before.”

Smudge twitched one ear. “His name’s Firestar. He lives in the forest.”

“I’m called Hattie,” the tabby introduced herself. “I’ve never met a forest cat before. How do you know Smudge?”

“I’ve known him since I was a kit,” Firestar explained. “I used to live here, in this Twoleg nest.”

“Really? But this is my home now!” The tabby’s eyes stretched wide. “Why did you leave?”

“It’s a long story.” Firestar didn’t expect any kittypet, even this lively tabby, to understand what had called him out of his safe life with Twolegs to the danger and excitement of the forest.

“I’ve got time to listen,” Hattie meowed.

Firestar was aware of Smudge close beside him, quivering with tension. “Sorry,” he meowed. “Maybe another time.”

Hattie looked disappointed. “Don’t you want to see where you used to live?” she mewed persuasively. “My Twolegs dug up a bush that was so old its roots stretched nearly the whole way across the garden, and planted some new trees that are great for scratching.”

Firestar opened his jaws to refuse, but the words didn’t come. He stood silent, gazing at the fence. An old bush… how old? Suppose it had been here before the Twoleg nests were built? Did that mean it had been here when SkyClan lived in the forest? Were there any other remnants of SkyClan’s former territory that might have survived?

Chapter 7

“Firestar, why are you standing there with your mouth open?”

Smudge asked crossly.

“Sorry.” For a moment Firestar had been caught up in the lost world of SkyClan, gaping as if he expected prey to jump into his jaws. “Okay,” he added to Hattie. “I’ll have a quick look from the fence.” Flicking his tail to draw Smudge a couple of pawsteps away, he murmured, “I won’t be long. This might help with your dreams.”

Smudge looked doubtful, and shot an anxious glance at Hattie.

“Don’t worry; I won’t tell her anything,” Firestar promised.

He sprang up to sit on the fence and looked down into the garden. He remembered the bush now: it had been brittle and straggly, and some of its branches had been leafless. In the place where it had been a new young tree was growing with soft, tempting bark; from his place on the fence Firestar could see Hattie’s claw marks scoring the trunk.

Hattie leaped up beside him and pointed with her tail.

“That’s where the bush used to be, and there’s the scratching tree. And there’s another new one, next to Smudge’s fence, that’s even better.”

Firestar heard scrabbling farther along the fence, and Smudge hauled himself up to sit beside Hattie. “Well, what do you see?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Nothing yet,” Firestar admitted. He studied the Twoleg nests, trying to imagine what this part of the forest would have been like before the trees were cut down.