Tallstar’s Revenge

Heatherstar fluffed up her fur. “You’d better get dry,” she advised the tunnelers. “This chilly wind will give you greencough if you’re not careful.”

Sandgorse nodded and headed away. “Come on, Tallkit!” he called. “Help me lick the grit from behind my ears.”

Tallkit scurried after him, catching up to Sandgorse as he reached the tunnelers’ bracken patch. Sandgorse stopped and shook out his pelt. Tallkit screwed up his face as mud spattered him. A purr rumbled in Sandgorse’s throat. “You’ll have to get used to mucky fur.”

Tallkit shuddered.

“You’re getting him dirty!” Palebird’s mew rang across the camp. Tallkit turned to see his mother hurrying toward them.

“He’s helping me get cleaned up,” Sandgorse objected. “He wants to get the grit from behind my ears, don’t you, Tallkit?”

Tallkit gazed at his father’s mud-crusted head. Not really.

“I guess he’s got to learn how.” Palebird touched her muzzle to Tallkit’s head. “One day he’ll be cleaning the grit from his own ears.”

Sandgorse’s eyes shone. “I can’t wait till we can go on patrol together.” He looked from Palebird to Tallkit. “Running tunnels, just the three of us.”

Palebird sighed. “It may be a while before I join you.”

Sandgorse looked up sharply. “What do you mean?” His gaze darkened. “Surely you’ll be ready by the time Tallkit’s an apprentice?”

Palebird shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be strong enough.”

“Of course you will.” Sandgorse leaned forward and pressed his cheek against hers. “Newleaf will bring fatter prey, and you’ll have your strength back in no time.”

Tallkit stared anxiously at his mother. “You’ll be better, won’t you?”

“I hope so,” Palebird murmured. Turning, she headed toward the nursery.

“Go with her, Tallkit,” Sandgorse whispered. “I think she needs cheering up.”

Tallkit hesitated. “What about your ears?”

“I’ll wash them myself.”

Tallkit trotted after his mother, scrambling over the tussocks until he caught up with her. The comforting scent of wool and milk enfolded him as they entered the nursery. Brackenwing sat up as Palebird curled into her nest. The queen’s pale ginger pelt was ruffled with sleep. “Where are Barkkit and Shrewkit?” she meowed.

Does she know that Barkkit is planning to ask Heatherstar if he can become Hawkheart’s apprentice? Tallkit wondered. He figured it wasn’t his place to tell Brackenwing if she didn’t know. “They’re playing outside.” He scrambled over the edge of the nest and slid in beside Palebird’s belly. He was hungry.

Palebird pulled away as he nuzzled into her belly. “No, Tallkit.”

Tallkit froze. No? He wriggled closer, closing his eyes and breathing in his mother’s tempting, milky scent.

Palebird shoved him back with a paw. “I said no, Tallkit.”

“No milk?” He stared at her in disbelief.

“It’s drying up,” she told him. “You’re old enough to eat from the prey heap now.”

“But…” He searched for a way to change her mind, but Palebird was staring at him blankly.

Brackenwing’s nest rustled. “It’s okay, Tallkit.” She climbed out of the heather and leaned in to lick his ears. “Shrewkit and Barkkit have been eating from the heap for a moon. They prefer prey now.”

No milk at all? Tallkit couldn’t believe Palebird hadn’t warned him.

His mother half closed her eyes. “You’ll enjoy eating with the big kits,” she murmured.

Tallkit felt Brackenwing tug his scruff with her teeth. He scrabbled at the nest, snagging wool in his claws as she lifted him out. His fur spiked. It’s not fair!

Brackenwing lowered him gently to the floor. “Let Palebird rest.” She nosed him toward the entrance. Numbly Tallkit stumbled forward. Behind him, Brackenwing was tucking wool around his mother. “You get some sleep, dear,” she whispered as Palebird tucked her nose under her paw and closed her eyes.

With a pang of sadness, Tallkit slid from the den. He landed on the damp grass and fluffed his fur against the chill. Wool was tufted beneath his claws. He shook it out crossly and stared across the camp. The prey heap was stacked high. He could see a rabbit near the bottom with small, brown mouse bodies piled on top. Belly growling, he stomped toward the heap. As he reached it, he sniffed warily. Rich scents swamped his tongue. He drew back, wrinkling his nose.

“First time?” Plumclaw’s mew made him jump. The dark gray she-cat nosed in beside him. “Try a mouse first. It’s not too strong and it’s easy to chew.” She tugged one of the little, brown bodies from the heap and dropped it at his paws. “Be careful of the bones.” She tapped the haunches of the mouse with her soft, gray foot. “Take a bite there.”

Tallkit leaned down, trying not to breathe in the prey scent. I want milk! Closing his eyes, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. Flavor flooded his tongue, pungent and warm.

“Not bad, eh?” Plumclaw purred.