Firestar’s Quest

“What’s the matter?” Firestar asked, setting down his fresh-kill at the cave entrance.

Sandstorm beckoned with her tail, so he took a few pawsteps down the path to meet her, away from Scratch and the kittypets.

“It’s Clover,” she murmured when he was close enough to hear. “I’ve been trying to teach her some fighting skills. She’s a strong, healthy cat—she shouldn’t have any problem—but can I make her see why she has to learn? ‘Oh, you and Firestar are such good fighters I know you’ll look after us all.’”

Sandstorm let out a sigh. “She’s keen enough to join SkyClan, but just for protection. She’s not interested in the warrior code, or what she might do for other cats.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “That could be difficult for her to learn right now,” he mewed. “It’s natural for a queen to put her kits’ safety first. And she must be pretty tired, raising those three lively youngsters.”

“But at least she could try,” Sandstorm pointed out. She glanced down into the gorge where Clover was basking on a rock by the side of the pool, with her kits frisking around her.

“Bounce and Rock and Tiny were trying to copy what I was showing their mother. Honestly, I think they learned more than she did!”

Firestar pressed his muzzle against hers. “It’ll work out.

She couldn’t have a better teacher.”

Sandstorm gave him a sidelong glance, and seemed to relax. “Let’s go down to the river,” she mewed. “My paws could do with bathing.”

Firestar’s paws felt sore, too, and as he followed Sandstorm down the stony trail he longed to feel the cool, damp earth of the forest under his pads. A few fox-lengths upstream he could hear the excited squeals of Clover’s litter.

“You know, those kits are almost ready to be apprenticed,” he remarked as they stood in the shallows.

“They must be nearly six moons old,” Sandstorm agreed, blinking against the sunlit dazzle on the water. “But we can’t apprentice them until we find a few more mentors.”

“I’ll ask Scratch and Clover if they know of any more cats,” Firestar meowed.

He broke off at the sound of voices calling his name from somewhere up above. Cherry and Boris were charging down the rock face, springing gracefully down sheer stretches of rock where Firestar and Sandstorm had to pick their way more cautiously.

“Firestar!” Cherry panted as she sprang to the ground and pelted along the bank toward him. “We had an idea!”

“You mean I had an idea,” Boris mewed, bouncing up to stand beside his sister.

Cherry tried to shoulder him into the water, but Boris ducked away and swiped one paw over her ear. Cherry pounced on him, and the two kittypets wrestled at the very edge of the river.

“When you’ve quite finished,” Sandstorm interrupted, “maybe you’ll tell us what your idea is.”

The two young cats straightened up, looking embarrassed.

“I guess apprentices don’t do that,” Cherry muttered.

Apprentices do that all the time, Firestar thought. “I’m listening,” he meowed.

“I thought you should have a meeting,” Boris explained, his fur fluffed up with enthusiasm. “We can tell all the cats who live near here to come, so you can tell them about the new Clan.”

“But we don’t know any other cats,” Firestar pointed out.

“No, hang on,” Sandstorm meowed, before Boris could reply. “I think it’s a good idea. After all, we’re looking for cats who can live together and cooperate with one another, so if they turn up to a meeting they’ve already passed the first test.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Firestar waded out of the river, shook each paw in turn, and sat down on a sun-warmed rock.

“Right, go on. Where do we find these cats?”

“We find them.” Cherry’s green eyes sparkled. “We can pass the message on to all the other kittypets. We’ll go now if you like.”

“They’ll all be outside on a day like this,” Boris added.

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm. “Okay,” he decided. “We’ll give it a try—but if we expect these cats to come to a meeting they deserve to see who’ll be talking to them. I’m coming with you.”

Firestar peered down through a rustling screen of leaves into the Twoleg garden. He couldn’t see much except for a stretch of grass and a few clumps of bright Twoleg flowers, but there was a strong scent of cat.

Cherry and Boris were crouched on the branch below him.

“Hey, Oscar!” Cherry called. “Come up here! We want to talk to you.”

A moment later Firestar spotted a muscular black tomcat racing across the grass. He launched himself into the tree with a magnificent leap. SkyClan blood, Firestar thought as the newcomer balanced on the branch beside Boris and Cherry.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His whiskers twitched as he looked up at Firestar. “Who’s he?”

Firestar took a deep breath. “My name’s Firestar,” he meowed, deciding not to confuse the black cat with details about the forest and ThunderClan. That wasn’t important now. “Have you ever heard of SkyClan? The cats who used to live in the gorge by the river?”

Oscar swished his tail. “Nope. Never heard of them.”