Firestar’s Quest

As Cherry dashed past the tree where Firestar had hidden, she gave a tremendous leap, batting at the lowest branch. Leaves showered down on her brother as he bounded after her.

Firestar and Sandstorm followed the kittypets to the edge of the bushes and watched them racing back to Twolegplace, their tails held high.

“They’re not bad, for kittypets,” Sandstorm commented.

“Cherry’s got spirit, at least.”

Firestar suspected that the young tortoiseshell reminded Sandstorm of her apprentice, Sorrelpaw. “They’ve both got spirit,” he responded. “It’s a pity they can’t be apprenticed in a proper Clan.”

“Well, they can’t,” Sandstorm meowed. “Not unless we can find SkyClan. They left here a long time ago, by the sound of it.”

“Except for Moony.” Firestar felt excitement prickling through his pelt again. “A cat who gazes at the full moon and talks about cats in the stars… He’s a Clan cat, Sandstorm; he must be!”

Sandstorm nodded, a glow in her green eyes. “Then that’s our next job. We’ve got to find him.”

“To think I complained it was too hot!” Sandstorm exclaimed.

She and Firestar had finished their hunt and eaten, and were heading along the top of the gorge in search of Moony.

The dawn mist had turned to a fine, cold drizzle, soaking the cats’ fur. The sky was heavy with gray clouds, and Firestar couldn’t see clearly more than a few fox-lengths ahead.

“This is no good,” he meowed. “It’s just the same as when we were looking for the SkyClan camp. If we stay up here, we’ll never find the place where Moony is living.”

Sandstorm sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Climbing down was even harder when the rocks were slippery with rain and the bottom of the gorge was still shrouded in mist. Firestar led the way, scrambling over boulders and slithering down loose pebbles until they reached the narrow valley above the rocks where the river poured out. The path was sticky with mud, covering the cats’ legs and splashing up into their belly fur. They plodded along uncomfortably, peering through the rain at the sides of the gorge to find any trace of the old cat.

“There’s a slit in that rock.” Sandstorm pointed with her tail. “Maybe it leads to a cave.” She splashed away from the path to investigate and splashed back almost at once. “No good,” she reported. “It’s not wide enough for my whiskers. A cat could never live in there.”

Firestar wondered whether a cat could live in this barren place at all, but as he and Sandstorm trudged along he began to spot stunted bushes here and there, and scent faint traces of prey. Some of the rainwater had collected in puddles among the boulders.

“This place would support one or two cats,” he meowed.

“But it’s a pretty miserable place to live, all the same.”

“Especially on your own,” Sandstorm agreed. “If Moony is a bit weird, no cat could blame him.”

The cats passed more slits in the gorge wall, but they were all too shallow or too narrow for a cat to live in comfortably.

Firestar began to wonder how much farther they would have to go, or whether they had already missed Moony’s home.

Gradually a breeze sprang up, wafting billows of rain into their faces. Firestar shivered.

“For StarClan’s sake, let’s look for shelter,” Sandstorm mewed. “We’ll never find him in this.”

Not waiting for Firestar’s agreement, she splashed up to another of the narrow caves and slipped inside it. There was just enough room for Firestar to squeeze in beside her, their sodden pelts pressed together. But in spite of his drenched, mud-plastered fur and his sore paws, he felt more hopeful than he had for a long time. At last they had news of a real

Clan cat, and sooner or later they had to find him.

He drowsed uneasily and woke to feel Sandstorm’s tail flicking over his ear. She was standing outside the cave, looking down at him. “Come on,” she meowed. “The rain’s stopped.”

Creeping stiffly out of the cave, Firestar looked up and saw that the clouds were parting. A watery sun shone down into the gorge. The breeze ruffled his damp fur, showering him with a few last drops of rain.

“That’s better,” he meowed. “Let’s get moving.”

“In a moment,” Sandstorm replied. “I want a drink first.”

“Haven’t you had enough water?” Firestar asked, as he followed her to a pool in a hollow between two twisted thorn trees.

At the edge of the pool Sandstorm froze, staring down at the ground in front of her paws. “Firestar, look!”

He bounded over. There in the newly wet mud at the edge of the pool were the pawprints of a cat! They were crisp and fresh, larger than his prints or Sandstorm’s.

“They could be Moony’s!” Sandstorm exclaimed. “Or at least, a cat who might know where to find him. And they must have been made recently—since the rain stopped.”

Firestar lashed his tail. If they hadn’t gone to sleep in the cave, they might have spotted the cat when it came to drink.

“Whoever it is, they might still be close by,” he meowed.

“You search that side of the gorge, and I’ll look on this side.”