Firestar’s Quest

His eyes narrowed as he glanced up and down the row of nests. Smudge’s nest lay in a slight dip, lower than the others.

If Firestar had been leading a Clan back then, and had to choose a place for a camp, he would have wanted it in a sheltered hollow, perhaps with bramble bushes for extra protection, like the WindClan camp. He drew in a swift breath, feeling every hair on his pelt stand on end. Could Smudge’s nest have been built right on top of the old SkyClan camp?

That might explain why he had been dreaming so vividly about the fleeing cats.

“Smudge,” he began, interrupting a discussion between his friend and Hattie about catmint, “is it okay if I stay with you tonight?”

Smudge blinked in surprise. “Of course. But will it be okay with… with the other cats in your Clan?”

His concern moved Firestar. Smudge might be a kittypet, but he was a true friend. “They’ll be fine, I promise. I just think this will help me figure out, you know, what we were talking about earlier.”

“Oh, I see.” Smudge looked alarmed as he added, “But I’m not sure how easy it’ll be getting you inside the nest.”

“I don’t need to come inside,” Firestar told him. StarClan forbid! “I’ll be fine in the garden, thanks.”

The black-and-white cat nodded. “Okay. Well, come on over.”

“I’ve got to find my Clanmates first and let them know I won’t be back tonight.”

Firestar jumped down from the fence, back into the forest.

Behind him, he heard Hattie meowing inquisitively, “Why does Firestar want to stay in your garden? Why doesn’t he want to stay in mine?”

Firestar raced through the trees until he reached the place where he had last seen his Clanmates. Before he could begin tracking them by scent, Thornclaw appeared from behind a clump of brambles, carrying two mice by their tails.

He dropped his prey in front of Firestar. “I thought you must have gone back to camp.”

“No, something’s come up.” Firestar was reluctant to explain any further. “I won’t be back until tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong,” he added, seeing that Thornclaw was starting to look worried. “Just tell Graystripe that he’s in charge until then.”

“Okay. Cloudtail and I are just about ready to take our prey back.”

Firestar said good-bye and retraced his pawsteps through the trees to the Twoleg nests. There was no sign of Smudge, but Hattie was sitting where he had left her.

“You still haven’t told me how you joined your Clan,” she mewed as Firestar leaped up onto Smudge’s fence. She sounded put out. “Don’t you want to visit your old home properly?”

Firestar didn’t want to upset her, and he was curious to see the place where he had spent the first moons of his life.

Balancing carefully, he walked along the fence to Hattie’s side. “All right, I’ll come for a little while.”

Hattie let out a little trill of pleasure and leaped down into her garden. Firestar followed; his nose twitched at the unfamiliar scents. The flowers seemed to glare at him in the sunlight, and the close-cut grass pricked his pads. Everything seemed familiar and yet strange, as if he were gazing through some other cat’s eyes at something he had never experienced himself.

“Come and have a scratch,” Hattie invited, racing over to the tree and standing on her hind paws to score her claws down the length of the trunk. “It’s really good.” Whirling, she pointed with her tail. “And that’s the bush where birds come hopping after snails. Did they do that when you were here?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied, chasing the vague memory. “Have you ever tried to catch one?”

Hattie wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Why would I want to do that? There would be blood and feathers everywhere—ugh!”

Firestar bit back an annoyed response. A kittypet couldn’t understand that a bird—even the scrawniest, toughest thrush—might be the only thing that kept a Clan cat from starvation.

“I used to stalk the birds,” he remarked, padding over to the bush and ducking underneath its branches. “I never caught one, though. They were too quick for me. I learned how to catch prey when I went into the forest.”

“I can’t understand why you left your housefolk,” Hattie mewed, padding over to sit beside him. “They—”

She broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching.

Firestar sprang up and whipped around to see his former Twolegs walking down the path that led around the side of the nest. They had a kit with them—a female, staggering along on short, stubby legs, and clinging with one paw to her mother.

Before the Twolegs could spot him, Firestar darted out of the bush; one outlying branch raked through his fur. He flung himself up the wooden strips of the fence, over the top, and down into the shade of the forest. As soon as his paws touched the ground, he dived into the shelter of a clump of ferns and crouched there, his ears straining for the sound of the Twolegs coming after him. Had he moved fast enough, or had they seen him? He couldn’t even be sure they’d recognize him after so many seasons, but it wasn’t worth the risk.