Firestar’s Quest

“If you’re sure, Firestar…” Bramblepaw hesitated, working his claws in the sandy ground. “I could find you some fresh-kill first.”

“No, go on,” his leader told him. “You’re so excited right now you wouldn’t notice if a fox ate you.”

Bramblepaw waved his tail and bundled through the gorse tunnel into the camp.

Firestar lingered outside the camp for a while, settling down on a flat rock with his tail curled around his paws. He could hear nothing but the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the tiny scufflings of prey in the undergrowth.

The battle with BloodClan had cast its shadow over all the Clans; for more than a season after, every cat in the forest jumped at a cracking twig, and chased out strangers as if their lives depended on it. They were even scared of going too close to Twolegplace, in case any surviving members of BloodClan happened to be lurking there. But now, five moons later, ThunderClan was thriving. Tomorrow there would be a new warrior, and the apprentices Rainpaw, Sootpaw, and Sorrelpaw were all doing well after three moons of training. In time, they would be good warriors too—they were bound to be, considering who their father was. Every day they reminded Firestar of his first deputy, Whitestorm, who had died battling the vicious BloodClan deputy, Bone. He still grieved for the old white warrior.

His mind wrapped in memories of his old friend, it was a moment before Firestar realized he could hear a faint sound: the footfalls of a cat stepping lightly through the undergrowth. He sprang to his paws, looking around, but he saw nothing.

He hardly had time to sit down before the noise came again. This time Firestar whipped his head around in time to glimpse the pale shape of a cat standing a little farther up the ravine.

Am I dreaming? Has Whitestorm left StarClan to come and visit me?

But this cat was smaller than Whitestorm and its fur was gray, patched with white. It stared straight at him, its eyes dark and earnest, as if it were trying to tell him something.

Firestar had never seen it before. Could it be a rogue? Or worse—could BloodClan have recovered from their defeat and come back to invade the forest?

He sprang to his paws and raced up the ravine toward the strange cat. But as soon as he began to move, it vanished, and when he searched among the rocks he couldn’t find it. There weren’t even any pawmarks, but when he tasted the air there was a faint trace of an unfamiliar scent, almost swamped by the ThunderClan scents that came from the camp.

Slowly Firestar retraced his pawsteps and sat on the rock again. All his senses were alert now as he gazed into the shadows. But he saw nothing more of the strange gray cat.

Chapter 2

While he still waited to see if the cat would return, clouds massed above Firestar’s head, blotting out the stars. Huge raindrops pattered on the rocks of the ravine, quickly growing to a steady downpour. Firestar squeezed through the gorse tunnel into the camp and raced across the clearing to his den at the foot of the Highrock.

Beyond the curtain of lichen, the den was dry. An apprentice had changed his bedding, piling fresh moss and bracken into a soft heap. Firestar shook the rain from his pelt and curled up, wrapping his tail over his nose. Rain drumming on the earth outside his den soon lulled him into sleep.

The noise of the rain faded and Firestar opened his eyes, feeling cold to the bone. His cozy nest had vanished, along with the familiar scents of ThunderClan. He was surrounded by dense, clinging mist. It swirled around him, breaking up now and then to show stretches of desolate moorland. He could feel tough, springy grass beneath his paws. At first he thought he must be on WindClan territory; then he realized that he had never seen this place before.

“Spottedleaf?” he called into the mist. “Are you here? Does StarClan have a message for me?”

But there was no sign of the beautiful tortoiseshell who had once been ThunderClan’s medicine cat. She often visited Firestar in dreams, but now he couldn’t pick up even a trace of her sweet scent.

Instead, he heard the faintest sound, so distant that he couldn’t make it out. He strained to listen, and an icy chill froze him from ears to tail as he heard a savage, wordless wailing, the dreadful sound of many terrified cats. He stiffened, ready to flee with them, but though the shrieks grew louder, all he could see were blurred shapes. They seemed to advance toward him through the mist, only to vanish before he could see them properly. The scent of unfamiliar cats drifted in the air.

“Who are you?” he called. “What do you want?”

But there was no reply, and soon the shrill wailing faded into silence.

Firestar jumped as something prodded his side. Blinking awake, he saw warm yellow sunlight angling through the entrance of his den, shining on the pale ginger fur of his mate, Sandstorm.