Firestar’s Quest

“Not who?” Firestar demanded.

Sandstorm padded forward and sat beside the kittypets, who shrank away from her. “Firestar, don’t sound so fierce,” she meowed, flashing him a warning look. “They haven’t done any harm—well, not much.”

“We didn’t mean to,” the tabby tom insisted.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Sandstorm’s voice was soothing; Firestar wished the kittypets could have heard her when she was telling off a careless apprentice. “Why don’t you start by telling us your names?”

“I’m Boris, and she’s my sister Cherry,” the tabby replied and added nervously, “What are you going to do with us?”

“We won’t hurt you,” Sandstorm promised, with another hard look at Firestar, who sheathed his claws and wrapped his tail around his paws. “We’re just looking for some cats who might have lived here long ago.”

Boris looked puzzled. “Which cats?”

“A Clan of cats,” Firestar meowed. When the kittypets still looked blank, he added, “They used to live in these caves…

warrior cats in one, older cats in another, queens and their litters in another, and so on. They had a leader, and they taught their young cats the warrior code. They defended their borders—”

“Oh, them!” the tortoiseshell, Cherry, meowed impatiently. “We’ve heard stories about them.” She paused.

“According to some of the cats around here, there used to be a lot of fierce cats who lived in these caves. They even used to eat kittypets!”

“That’s a load of mouse dung,” Boris protested. “I can fight as well as any cat. They wouldn’t eat me!”

“I didn’t see you being so keen to fight this cat.” His sister flicked her tail at Firestar. “Anyway, those cats have gone now, all except crazy old Moony.”

“Who’s Moony?” Sandstorm asked, and Firestar added, “Is that who you thought was down in the cave?”

The two kittypets exchanged a glance, beginning to look embarrassed again. Boris ducked his head and started to lick his chest fur.

“He’s just this mad old cat,” Cherry muttered. “He doesn’t live here, but he comes here every full moon, and sits on that rock that sticks out over the gorge. He spends ages staring up at the moon—that’s why we call him Moony.”

“Then he sleeps one night in that cave before he goes away again,” Boris added.

Cherry gave a disdainful sniff. “Every cat around here knows that he’s mad. If you try to talk to him, he just tells you weird stories about cats in the stars.”

Firestar felt every hair on his pelt stand on end. This was the first clue that any trace of Clan life survived, that any cat knew what it meant to be a warrior.

“Cats in the stars?” he asked sharply. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Cherry mewed. “I’ve listened to him often enough.”

“And if he did have anything to do with those other cats,” her brother added, “they can’t have been very fierce. Moony never fights back, whatever—”

He broke off as his sister gave him a sharp prod with one paw and hissed, “Mouse-brain!”

Firestar would have liked to cuff both young cats around the ears, but when he met Sandstorm’s gaze, she shook her head. Regretfully, Firestar admitted she was right. They would get more out of the kittypets if they didn’t scare them.

“Moony hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” Firestar asked, deliberately making his voice gentle. “He hasn’t hurt you or stolen your food?”

Both kittypets shook their heads, not meeting his gaze.

“Then you should leave him alone.”

The two kittypets exchanged a guilty glance. “I told you this wasn’t Moony!” Cherry hissed to her brother. “The moon isn’t full yet.”

“Well, how was I to know?” Boris complained. “No other cats have ever come here.”

“Never mind that.” Firestar interrupted their argument before it had a chance to get properly started. “What can you tell us about Moony? Where does he live when he isn’t here?”

Cherry shrugged. “Dunno.”

“He must come from farther up the gorge,” Boris offered, waving his dark-striped tail in that direction. “We’d have noticed if he came up the river.”

“And that’s all you can tell us?” Sandstorm leaned forward and fixed both young cats with a penetrating green gaze.

“That’s really all.” Boris’s yellow eyes widened. “Can we go now?”

“I think they can, don’t you, Firestar?”

Firestar paused for a couple of heartbeats, long enough for the two young cats to understand that they weren’t getting off too lightly. “I suppose so,” he mewed at last. “But no more tormenting defenseless cats, okay?”

“We won’t!” Boris promised. He prodded his sister.

“Will we?”

“No, not anymore.” Cherry flattened her ears. “We just didn’t think…”

“Next time, try not to be so mouse-brained,” Firestar meowed, drawing aside to leave a narrow tunnel through the undergrowth. “Off you go.”

Relief flooded the eyes of both young cats. They crept hesitantly past Firestar, as if they weren’t completely sure his claws would stay sheathed. Once they were safely past him, they shouldered their way out of the thicket and broke into a run.