Firestar’s Quest

“The kittypets will be fine,” Sandstorm mewed. “They’re young; they’ve got lots of time to learn. And they’re true SkyClan cats! Have you seen how high they can leap?”

Sky just sniffed.

“And Scratch—that’s the ginger rogue’s name,” Firestar went on, “is tough and a fighter, and once he’s learned about the warrior code, he’ll be just the sort of cat a Clan needs.”

To his relief the old cat nodded. “Maybe you’re right,” he mewed grudgingly. “At least you’re keeping your promise.”

He raised his head to the glitter of Silverpelt above them.

Following his gaze, Firestar wondered if the SkyClan ancestor was watching. Are you pleased too? he wondered. Is this what you wanted from me?

There was no answer, nothing but the distant blaze of stars.

Chapter 23

“Cats who live in a Clan send out hunting patrols several times a day,” Firestar explained, pausing at the end of the line of Twoleg fences. “And we patrol the borders twice, once at dawn and once at sunset.”

“So are we the dawn patrol?” Boris asked.

“Mouse-brain!” His sister Cherry swiped at him with one paw. “SkyClan doesn’t have borders yet. We’re hunters, aren’t we, Firestar?”

“That’s right,” Firestar meowed. “We’ll have borders soon, when I know the territory a bit better, and see how many cats are going to be living here. Meanwhile, this is SkyClan’s first proper hunting patrol.”

Cherry gave a happy little bounce. “Great! We haven’t caught much, though,” she added, sounding disappointed. “I can’t seem to pick up any scent at all.”

“That’s because it’s wet,” Firestar told her. “Even experienced hunters find it hard.”

Fog filled the gorge and stretched over the scrubland on the cliff top as far as the Twolegplace. The rising sun shone through it with a milky light. Every grass stem was bent with the weight of water droplets, and dew misted on the cats’ fur.

“But that’s no excuse for taking risks.” Scratch looked up from where he was digging up some fresh-kill they had buried earlier. “I couldn’t believe you two. You leaped straight into that garden without looking.”

“Sorry,” Cherry muttered, while Boris scrabbled his forepaws on the ground in front of him.

“‘Sorry’ is all very well,” snapped the rogue. “You nearly landed right on top of that dog. If Firestar hadn’t distracted it, you would be dog food by now. And you lost the squirrel you were chasing.”

Boris sighed. “It was lovely and fat.”

Scratch rolled his eyes and went back to scraping away the earth over their prey.

Firestar gave him a quick glance. It was four days since Scratch and Clover had come to live in the caves, and Scratch’s hunting skills were already proving useful, but he had no patience with the two kittypets.

“They’ll learn,” Firestar meowed, and added to Cherry and Boris, “You’re coming along really well.”

“Can we come and live in the camp all the time?” Cherry begged.

“Not yet.” Firestar was relieved the young cat was so keen to join the Clan, but he wondered if she realized what a huge decision she was making. “What about leaving your housefolk?”

Cherry’s tail drooped and her eyes grew more thoughtful.

“I like sitting on a lap and being stroked, and I like playing with our housefolk and making them laugh… but I like hunting too. I wish we could have both.”

“Well, we can’t,” mewed Boris. “I worry about our housefolk missing us, too. If we could just tell them that we’ll be okay…” He took a deep breath. “But if we are really descendants of the first SkyClan, we belong in the gorge.”

Firestar blinked at him. “I think you need to take your time before you make the final decision.” Scratch had been right to scold them for dashing into the garden, even though he could have been more tactful. The kittypets’ biggest fault was charging blindly into things. But at least it showed they had courage, a valuable quality in a warrior.

“How much longer?” Cherry demanded. “Can we be apprentices soon?”

Before Firestar could reply, Scratch looked up. “Are we just going to stand around here? I want to be back in the gorge before the mist clears. I’ve never had anything to do with Twolegs, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Good thinking,” Firestar meowed. Already the Twoleg nests were standing out more clearly against the dawn sky, and he could hear a monster waking up in the distance.

“Bring your prey, and let’s go.”

As he led the way across the scrubland, his jaws full of fresh-kill and his ears pricked for any sound of danger, optimism swept over him. He was leading a patrol, taking prey back to a camp. For the first time since he left the forest, he felt as if he were really part of a Clan.

* * *

By the time they returned to the warriors’ cave, the sun had burned off most of the mist. Even though the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, the gorge was still bathed in the heat of greenleaf.

Sandstorm was climbing the trail from the gorge. Her green eyes were sparking with annoyance, and the tip of her tail flicked.