Firestar’s Quest

Firestar let out a yowl and flung himself on the fox. It turned on him, its jaws snapping for his throat. Sandstorm dashed in and raked her claws down its other side before it spun around and batted her away with one paw. Spitting with rage, Firestar leaped for its shoulder, snagging his claws in its pelt and trying to bury his teeth in its neck.

Even though the fox was starving, it could still fight furiously, or perhaps hunger had maddened it. Lashing its head from side to side, it dropped to the ground, trying to crush Firestar beneath it. His muzzle was buried in its fur; its hot scent was all around him as he struggled to breathe. He felt the sharp pain of claws in his belly. With a massive heave he managed to break free and scramble to his paws. Blood from his wound spattered in the sand, and his legs felt unsteady.

Sandstorm attacked again, darting rapidly in and out to deal a swift blow before the fox could retaliate, in an effort to lead it away from the kits. The she-cat still crouched in the mouth of the den, protecting her litter. With another vicious snarl the fox lunged for Sandstorm and grabbed her by the hind leg. Sandstorm let out a shriek of pain. Firestar staggered toward them, but pain blurred his vision, and though he clawed at the fox’s haunches he couldn’t get any strength behind the blow.

StarClan, help us!

A yowl sounded from farther down the gorge. Another cat was racing to join the battle; it was the dark ginger tom who had been hunting among the bushes downstream.

Letting out another furious screech, the rogue sprang up onto the rocks above the mouth of the den. He clung there for a couple of heartbeats, his claws gripping the rough surface, then hurled himself down to land on the fox’s head.

The fox let out a squeal of pain and released Sandstorm.

She leaped up on three paws and flung herself back into the battle, scoring a deep gash down the fox’s side. Firestar’s head was clearing now; he bit down on the fox’s tail and heard it shriek.

The rogue was balanced on the fox’s head, the claws of all four paws sunk deep into its fur. Blood welled from the scratches and began to trickle into the creature’s eyes.

Suddenly it gave up and began to stumble away. The ginger tom jumped down, and Firestar aimed a final blow at the fox’s haunches as it limped into the shadows.

Breathing heavily, the three cats gazed at one another.

“Thanks,” Firestar panted. “That could have been nasty if you hadn’t turned up.”

“Don’t thank me.” The tomcat narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like foxes any more than you do. You look a bit battered,” he added, his gaze flicking from Firestar to Sandstorm and back again.

Sandstorm flexed her injured leg and put her paw to the ground. “I’ll be okay.”

Firestar examined his belly wound, drawing his tongue a few times over the blood-soaked fur. To his relief, the scratch wasn’t deep, and the bleeding had already stopped. “We’ll be fine,” he meowed. “We needed a fight to liven us up.” To his surprise, he realized that was true; for several days now he and Sandstorm had done little except rest in the warriors’ cave and occasionally hunt. Now he felt more alive, more like a true Clan warrior.

“You’re all so brave! Thank you so much! You saved my kits.”

Firestar turned to see the pale brown she-cat guiding three kits toward them, her tail curled protectively around them: a black tom, a ginger tom, and a tiny white she-cat.

“I’m Clover,” the she-cat announced, “and these are Rock, Bounce, and Tiny.”

Sandstorm dipped her head. “I’m Sandstorm, and this is Firestar.”

Firestar turned to the other rogue, waiting for him to introduce himself. Instead, he met a challenging gaze from green eyes that sparked with intelligence. “Names are easy,” the ginger tom meowed, “but who are you? What are you doing here, and how long do you mean to stay?”

For a few moments Firestar was taken aback. The questions, and the cat’s authoritative tone, reminded him of how he might have spoken if he had come across rogues in ThunderClan territory.

“I saw you farther down the gorge,” he began.

“And I saw you.” The ginger tom’s ears flattened. “You were hunting with those two crazy kittypets. Why do you want to bother with them?”

“Cherry and Boris are okay,” Sandstorm mewed defensively.

“What does it matter why they’re here?” Clover broke in.

“The fox would have eaten my kits if they hadn’t come along!”

“I was here, wasn’t I?” the ginger tom growled. He unsheathed powerful claws and dug them into the sandy earth. “I can see off any fox that’s ever been born.” His gaze rested on Firestar again. “So, what’s your story?”

“You won’t go yet, will you?” Clover begged, with a nervous glance into the shadows. “The fox might come back.”

“We’ll stay for a while,” Sandstorm promised.

Clover lay down in the mouth of her den so that her three kits could burrow into her side and feed. The other cats settled down beside her, Firestar and Sandstorm licking their wounds in between telling the ginger tom about SkyClan.