Lost Stars

Bristlepaw thanked them all as she padded out of camp with her mentor, but inwardly she had begun to feel nervous, as if her early confidence were leaking out through her pads. She imagined how dreadful it would be if she failed for a second time and every cat knew it. Maybe Stemleaf would believe that it was StarClan’s will for her never to become a warrior.

Oh, that would be terrible. . . . He would never be my mate then.

Once out in the forest, Rosepetal turned to her. “Off you go,” she mewed, then stepped away with a nod and disappeared around a bramble thicket. Bristlepaw knew, however, that she would be somewhere close by, watching.

The dawn light was strengthening, though clouds covered the sky and no sun could shine through. For a few moments, Bristlepaw stood still, gazing around at the frozen forest and thinking hard. I’ll stay well away from the WindClan border this time, she told herself. She was determined not to return to camp without catching something, especially the day after a cat from another Clan had embarrassed her by bringing her prey.

Bristlepaw remembered an area of thick undergrowth in a shallow valley not far from where Rosepetal had left her. There was plenty of shelter there where prey might be lurking. Her ears pricked alertly, her eyes scanning every paw step of the forest, she padded off in that direction.

Around her the forest was white and quiet, the only sound her paws breaking through the hard crust of the snow, and now and then the creaking of a laden branch. Her breath billowed out in a foggy cloud. The air she breathed in felt like claws in her chest, and it held not the slightest hint of prey.

Finally Bristlepaw stood at the edge of the valley, which lay in front of her like an upturned leaf. The bottom was covered with bushes and ferns; here and there the deep green of holly or the brown of bracken poked up above the white covering of snow. And, for the first time, Bristlepaw picked up a tiny trace of mouse.

Yes!

Setting her paws down carefully, remembering that a mouse would feel the vibrations of her steps before it heard or saw her, Bristlepaw slid down into the valley and between the outer branches of the bushes. Only a dim light filtered in from above, and dead leaves covered the earth.

Keeping her tail well tucked in, Bristlepaw flattened herself to the ground and crept forward. The scent of mouse was stronger now, and before she had gone very far, she spotted it nibbling at something among the roots of a gorse bush.

With every paw step Bristlepaw prepared for the mouse to sense her and run, but it had its back to her, intent on the seed or whatever it was eating. The low branches stopped Bristlepaw from rising into the right position for a pounce; instead, when she was close enough, she flung herself forward, feeling the gorse thorns rake along her back, and trapped the mouse between her forepaws. It let out a thin, terrified squeal that broke off as Bristlepaw bit down on its neck.

Huge relief flooded through Bristlepaw as she looked down at her prey. “Thank you, StarClan,” she mewed fervently, even though part of her wondered whether she should be thanking StarClan when they were absent. The mouse was a scrawny thing, but at least she wouldn’t be going back to camp empty-pawed. I’ve got to catch more than this, though, she thought. What if Rosepetal doesn’t think one mouse is enough?

However, when Bristlepaw emerged from the bushes, and set the mouse down so she could taste the air for more prey, Rosepetal appeared from behind a nearby tree.

“Well done—you passed,” her mentor meowed. “We can go back to camp now.”

Bristlepaw hardly knew how to respond. She wanted to let out a triumphant yowl to celebrate passing her assessment, but at the same time she would have liked a more impressive catch to carry back with her. She had always imagined returning to camp loaded down with prey.

“I might find more if I go on hunting a bit longer,” she suggested.

Rosepetal flicked Bristlepaw’s shoulder with her tail-tip. “You’ve proved yourself a good hunter,” she mewed kindly. “If you can catch prey in these conditions, you must be one of the strongest, most skillful young cats in the Clan. I’ll be really pleased to recommend that Bramblestar make you a warrior.”

She set out toward the camp; Bristlepaw had no choice but to pick up her mouse and follow. She was looking forward to her warrior ceremony—and the talk with Stemleaf that was sure to follow—but in the midst of her happiness and relief she still had the niggling sense that the mouse wasn’t much of a catch, and that she could have done better.

I hope Rosepetal didn’t say I passed just because she felt sorry for me.