Firestar’s Quest

While Cherrypaw set the marker, Firestar led the other cats farther along the cliff until they came in sight of the woodland where he had spoken to the rogues. Cherrypaw came bounding up as they paused for Sparrowpaw to set another marker at a spot where the cliff edge crumbled away.

“I want to include some of the woods in the territory,” Firestar meowed. “It’s the best place for prey. But I don’t want to tread on the tails of the rogues who didn’t join us.

We’re not looking for a fight.”

Leafdapple nodded. “If we stay on good terms with them, some of them might change their minds.”

Firestar let Sharpclaw take the lead as they reached the trees. The two apprentices had never been in thick woodland before; their eyes stretched wide, and Cherrypaw let out an excited squeal before slapping her tail over her mouth with a guilty look at Sharpclaw.

“That’s right, frighten all the prey in the forest,” Sharpclaw grumbled.

Firestar glanced at the ginger warrior, hoping he wasn’t going to be too tough with an apprentice who was less experienced than a Clan cat of her age. But Cherrypaw didn’t seem crushed; she had already spotted a blackbird pecking underneath a bush, and had started to creep up on it.

Leafdapple waved her tail at Sparrowpaw. “You can hunt too, if you like.”

Sparrowpaw’s ears pricked, and he stood tasting the air before stalking through long grass toward some prey Firestar couldn’t see.

“I suggest we head for the stream,” Sharpclaw meowed, keeping an eye on his apprentice. “If we make that the border, Rainfur’s and Lichen’s dens will be outside our territory.”

“What about Tangle?” Firestar asked, remembering the cranky old tabby.

Leafdapple let out a faint mrrow of amusement. “Tangle shifts his den every moon. If he doesn’t like being inside our territory, he can move outside it.”

Firestar nodded. Sharpclaw’s idea was a good one, but he reminded himself to tell the warriors not to attack rogues if they found them on SkyClan territory—at least, not until they had been given plenty of time to get used to the idea of the Clan’s presence in the woods.

“The stream it is, then,” he meowed.

Just then Cherrypaw gave an enormous leap and snatched the blackbird out of the air as it tried to fly off. Crashing to the ground again she trotted back with her prey in her jaws and laid it at Sharpclaw’s paws. “For you,” she mewed, dipping her head respectfully. “I can soon catch another.”

Sharpclaw stared at her and at the fresh-kill. “Thanks,” he managed to say. “Good catch.”

Her eyes gleaming, Cherrypaw padded off again with her tail in the air.

Not to be outdone, Sparrowpaw brought his first catch—a mouse—to Leafdapple, before going off to hunt for his own fresh-kill. Firestar was pleased to see them trying to act like proper Clan cats, and decided not to tell them that apprentices didn’t usually catch prey for their mentors. He caught a squirrel for himself, with a leap that was nearly good enough for SkyClan.

When they had finished eating, Sharpclaw led the way to the stream. Before they reached it, Cherrypaw waved her tail excitedly at a dead tree that stood by itself in a clearing.

“That’s a good place for a marker!”

Firestar halted. “It’s okay, but I think this one would be better.” He nodded at an ivy-covered oak tree on the nearer edge of the clearing.

“Why?” Sparrowpaw asked. “We’d have more territory if we used the dead tree.”

“Yes, but there’s no cover in the clearing,” Firestar explained. A tingle of excitement went through him. Were these the sort of decisions that ThunderClan warriors had made in the forest so long ago? “No cover for prey, and none for you, if there are foxes or badgers about.”

“That makes sense.” Sharpclaw padded up to the oak tree and set a marker there.

Following the stream, the cats reached the cliff top and climbed down to where the fallen tree trunk crossed the river.

Firestar took the lead once more, over to the far side of the gorge and up the cliff toward the Twolegplace, setting scent by the tree stump and the deserted fox’s den that Skywatcher had told him marked the old border. Then the patrol skirted the edge of the Twolegplace as far as the barn at the end of the row. Firestar felt his fur begin to prick again as they approached it; he didn’t like the place and never would, but at least now it was outside the SkyClan borders.

Finally he led his patrol back toward the camp by a route that took in most of the undergrowth on the cliff top. He guessed it was almost sunhigh, though clouds still covered the sky and the wind was scented with rain.

As the patrol approached the bushes, Sandstorm emerged with a mouse between her jaws. “Hi,” she mewed, dropping her prey. “I thought you must have gone on patrol.”

“We set the borders!” Cherrypaw announced proudly.

“Good.” Sandstorm twitched her whiskers with approval.

“You’ll have to tell the rest of us where they are.”