Path Of A Warrior

“Redpaw!”

At the sound of Sparrowpelt’s voice, Redpaw tore his gaze away from the fight. His mentor was only a tail-length away, panting from his run. “Come on,” his mentor hissed urgently. “Now, while Tigerclaw’s got it distracted.”

“But …” Shouldn’t we help him? Redpaw looked back at the battling cat and hawk just as Tigerclaw jerked to one side and bit into the hawk’s neck hard, his sharp white teeth bright against the hawk’s dark feathers. He tore at the bird’s throat and more feathers scattered across the bridge. It didn’t look like Tigerclaw needed their help at all.

“Come on, quickly!” Sparrowpelt growled. Finally, Redpaw ran. Together they dashed toward the rest of the patrol on the opposite side of the bridge.

Redpaw couldn’t quite keep pace with his mentor. As fast as he was running, he was still falling behind.

“Don’t leave me,” he whimpered, his mouth dry with terror. With a horrified glance at the sky, Sparrowpelt doubled back. Snatching Redpaw up by the back of the neck—like a kit—he hauled him toward the far end of the bridge.

“Hey!” Redpaw sputtered as they got closer to the others, his legs churning helplessly. “Put me down! I’m fine!” When they finally reached the end of the bridge, Sparrowpelt dropped him, immediately beginning to nose gingerly along Redpaw’s sides.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked. “Did it scratch you?”

Before he could answer, Willowpaw threw herself on Redpaw and buried her head in his shoulder. “Oh, Redpaw,” she mewed shakily. “I was so scared. When I saw you weren’t with us, I …” She gasped and pressed her head harder against him.

Redpaw backed a little away from them both, embarrassed. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I promise.”

“Good,” Bluefur mewed briskly. “Stay under this tree, all of you. Hawks usually hunt alone, but we should be cautious. There could be another one up there.”

On the bridge, the fallen hawk flapped its wings desperately, throwing Tigerclaw off. He landed on his feet, snarling, and leaped toward it again, but the bird fluttered its damaged wings and, with an awkward lurch, launched itself off the other side of the bridge.

“Wow!” Frostpaw said, her eyes wide. “It’s running away! Flying, I mean.”

The bird plummeted for a moment, then rose again, flapping its way slowly into the sky. It looked battered and unsteady. A few more feathers drifted down onto the bridge. Now that Tigerclaw had bested it, it didn’t seem quite so fierce.

As it flew off over the trees, Tigerclaw strutted back toward his Clanmates, his tail held high over his back. Redpaw shook off his sister and ran to meet him.

“Tigerclaw,” he gasped, coming to a halt before the warrior, suddenly feeling shy. “You saved me!”

Tigerclaw licked his own front paw smugly. “It’s all right, Redpaw,” he meowed. “You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Redpaw told him. Just saying thanks didn’t seem like enough, really: He could still feel the horrible dread that had filled him as he’d waited for those wickedly sharp talons to sink into his sides. “If—if there’s anything I can ever do for you, T-Tigerclaw, just name it,” he stammered. “I owe you everything.”

“You did very well, Tigerclaw,” Bluefur mewed as the rest of the patrol came up behind Redpaw. “We’re all grateful to you.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the other cats, all of whom were looking at Tigerclaw with respect. Redpaw squirmed, feeling hot with shame. No cat would have had to be grateful to Tigerclaw, if only Redpaw had followed the order to run, if he hadn’t stupidly put himself in danger.

“We need to keep going, though,” Stormtail pointed out. “The other warriors may need us.”

Bluefur and Sparrowpelt exchanged a worried look. Suddenly Redpaw noticed that he could no longer hear the yowls and sounds of fighting from the RiverClan camp.

“I can’t hear them anymore.” Brindlepaw echoed Redpaw’s thoughts. “Is the fight over?”

“I don’t know,” Bluefur mewed. “We’d better go and see. I think that Redpaw and Willowpaw should stay here, though.”

“I’m fine!” Redpaw insisted again. His knees were still trembling, but he didn’t want to be left behind. “And it’s not fair to make Willowpaw stay back,” he added. Willowpaw cast him a grateful look.

Bluefur ignored him, instead looking at Sparrowpelt. “Will you stay with them?” she asked.

“Of course,” Sparrowpelt replied, and Bluefur dipped her head gratefully.

“Stay under the tree in case the hawk comes back,” she warned as she left, the rest of the patrol following her. They were hurrying, the three warriors in front and Frostpaw and Brindlepaw behind, both apprentices gazing at Tigerclaw admiringly.

Redpaw watched until they disappeared over a hill, and then he flopped down near the birch tree’s roots. “This is all my fault,” he groaned.

“You’re not responsible for the hawk,” Sparrowpelt replied. He was looking toward the RiverClan camp, his ears pricked for any sound.