Lost Stars

“Maybe the reason you’re having such problems with training is that you’re not meant to be a warrior. Maybe you’re meant to be the kind of cat who talks to dead cats. After all, your father has his ‘ways,’ right?” Kitepaw sounded amused.

Fury swelled inside Rootpaw, and he felt his shoulder fur bushing up. He drew his lips back in a snarl. “Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Or else what?” Kitepaw taunted him.

Rootpaw took a pace forward. “Or else I’ll claw your ears off!”

“Hey!” Turtlepaw shouldered her way between the two toms. “You’ll get in trouble for fighting. And it’s not like you’d win,” she added sneeringly to Rootpaw.

Her mockery stripped away the last of Rootpaw’s self-control. Letting out a furious screech, he launched himself at the tortoiseshell she-cat. He heard Needlepaw yowl his name, but he ignored her, sliding out his claws and stretching his forepaws to swipe at Turtlepaw.

His blow never landed. Turtlepaw sidestepped quickly and hooked Rootpaw’s paws out from under him; he thumped to the ground, the breath driven out of his body. Turtlepaw stood over him, her forepaws on his neck and belly.

Rootpaw let out a furious hiss, then went limp, remembering the move Dewspring had demonstrated. But when he tried to leap upward, he only crashed back down, and twisted around to see Turtlepaw with her paws on his tail and a smug expression on her face.

“You should know better than to attack us,” she mewed. “We’re older than you, and better fighters. And don’t lash out at us just because Kitepaw is right. Maybe you should go be weird somewhere else!”

She stood back, letting Rootpaw scramble to his paws. He felt as though his fur were on fire with anger and embarrassment, even though none of the warriors had seen Turtlepaw overpower him.

“I will become a strong warrior,” he insisted. “I’ll be important to the Clan. I’m not weird.” Not like Tree, he added to himself.

The two older apprentices exchanged a knowing look.

“Okay, if you want to prove yourself, maybe you can help us,” Kitepaw suggested.

“Rootpaw, no!” Needlepaw padded up to his side. “Dewspring told you to practice,” she added urgently. “You don’t want to get mixed up with these stupid furballs. They’ll only trick you somehow.”

Part of Rootpaw’s mind told him that his sister was right. But he could just imagine the taunts he would receive from the two older apprentices if he backed down now.

“I can take care of myself,” he spat. “Okay, Kitepaw, what do you want me to do?”

“We’re going on an expedition down to the lake,” Kitepaw replied. “There are supposed to be herbs down there that Frecklewish and Fidgetflake need for their stores. If we can get some, we’ll show we’re ready to be warriors—maybe we’ll even be given our warrior names! Are you brave enough to come with us?”

“Sure I am,” Rootpaw responded.

“Rootpaw, don’t be a mouse-brain,” Needlepaw begged. “You’ll only get into trouble if Dewspring finds out.”

Rootpaw felt a worm of uncertainty stir in his belly. Dewspring is fed up with me already—I don’t want to make things worse. But then he saw the gleam of mockery in the eyes of the older apprentices. “I don’t care,” he told his sister. “Besides, Dewspring won’t find out. Not unless you tell him.”

Needlepaw looked hurt at the idea that she would give him away. “I won’t,” she mewed. “But I think you’ve got bees in your brain.”

Turning away, she stalked off in the direction of the camp. For a heartbeat Rootpaw wanted to go after her, to tell her he was sorry for upsetting her. But he knew he couldn’t back down in front of the other apprentices.

“Okay, let’s go,” Kitepaw ordered.

Rootpaw followed the reddish-brown tom as he headed toward the lake, with Turtlepaw bringing up the rear. With every paw step he felt the air grow colder and colder. He couldn’t help shivering, as if icy claws were probing deep into his fur.

“Are you a scaredy-mouse?” Turtlepaw teased him. “Do you want to go back to the nice warm nursery?”

“I’m not scared,” Rootpaw insisted, glaring at her over his shoulder. “I’m just cold.”

“Sure you are,” Turtlepaw retorted with a mrrow of laughter.

However, though he would have rather died than admit it, Rootpaw couldn’t help feeling daunted when he and the other apprentices emerged from the trees and stood on the top of a bank that sloped down toward the lakeshore. A gray waste of water lay in front of him, whipped into waves by the icy wind that swept over it. At the water’s edge the gray was turning to white as the lake froze, the ice stretching several tail-lengths from the pebbly beach.

“Right,” Rootpaw meowed. “Let’s start looking for these herbs.”

He flattened himself to the ground and crept forward to look underneath a straggly thornbush where he could spot some surviving green growth, only to halt a moment later at the sound of a snort of laughter from behind him. He wriggled around to face the other apprentices.