Tallstar’s Revenge

He fought to stop himself from trembling as Dawnstripe touched her muzzle to his head, and he pricked his ears, listening for his Clanmates’ cheers. Paws shifted on the sand around him. No cat called his apprentice name. Nervously Tallpaw glanced over his shoulder. Sandgorse had turned his tail on the ceremony. The tunnelers stared in stony silence.

“Tallpaw!” Cloudrunner was the first to call his name.

Hareflight joined in “Tallpaw!”

“Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe raised her voice above the others and led the chant, challenging the other moor runners to join in with a glare.

As more cats began to call his name, Dawnstripe nosed Tallpaw toward Stagpaw and Doepaw. “Come on,” she murmured. “Greet your new denmates.”

“Tallpaw! Tallpaw!” Ryepaw pummeled the ground.

Stagpaw’s eyes shone as Tallpaw approached. “Congratulations.”

Tallpaw’s tongue felt dry. Stagpaw had never spoken to him as an equal before.

As the chanting died away, Ryepaw and Doepaw clustered around him. “The first time you see the moor is the best,” Doepaw told him breathlessly.

“You won’t believe how big it is!” Ryepaw fluffed out her gray fur.

Barkpaw raced to Tallpaw’s side. “Congratulations!” he mewed. Tallpaw blinked gratefully at his friend. He still didn’t know how to feel. He wanted to be a moor runner, but not if it made his mother and father so angry.

“You may think you’ve been given an easier path.” Tallpaw turned as a gruff mew sounded in his ear. Hawkheart was standing beside him. The gray-brown medicine cat narrowed his eyes. “But it’s a path that leads away from your kin. Be careful not to lose your way.”

Tallpaw shook his head. “I won’t; I promise!”

Barkpaw puffed out his chest. “Of course he won’t!”

“Heatherstar must be crazy.” Shrewpaw barged past his brother. “You should be underground, Wormkit!”

Tallpaw sniffed. “I’m not a kit. Or a worm. I’m going to be a moor runner, just like you.”

Larksplash’s whiskers twitched. “It’ll be good to have a new apprentice in the den.” She glanced at Ryepaw, her gaze warm. “A certain litter isn’t too good at being ready in time for dawn patrol.”

Aspenfall purred, weaving past Dawnstripe. “I bet you’re an early riser, if you’re anything like your father.” He looked at Sandgorse. The pale ginger tunneler sat with his back to the hollow.

Tallpaw’s heart twisted. He dipped his head to the moor runners crowding around him. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “I must go speak with Sandgorse.” He nosed his way past Dawnstripe and Stagpaw, and jumped out of the hollow. Following the rim, he headed for his father. “Sandgorse?”

The tunneler’s fur looked dull and patchy, worn thin by countless moons working underground.

Tallpaw stopped in front of his father. “Do you want me to tell Heatherstar I’d rather be a tunneler?”

Sandgorse lifted his gaze. “Is that what you want?”

Tallpaw swallowed.

Sandgorse’s gaze hardened. “Is it?”

Tallpaw shifted his paws. “No,” he mewed quietly.

“Then don’t,” Sandgorse snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Tallpaw mewed. “But if Heatherstar had made me a tunneler, I would have trained just as hard.”

“I had such plans.” Sandgorse’s gaze drifted toward the nursery, where Palebird was hiding.

“I know.” Tallpaw tried to ignore the guilt pricking his heart. “You and me and Palebird were going to patrol together. But I promise, even though I’m training to be a moor runner, I’ll be the best warrior I can be.”

“You were born to be a tunneler.” Sandgorse flashed an angry glance at Heatherstar as she sat, head bowed, beside Reedfeather in the hollow. “You can’t change that, no matter what any other cat tells you!” Lashing his tail, he marched away.

Tallpaw watched him go, grief rising in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Warm breath brushed his ear. Dawnstripe. Tallpaw recognized her scent. “There’s nothing you can do,” she meowed. “Leave him. He’ll get used to it.”

Tallpaw looked up hopefully at her. “Will he?”

Dawnstripe didn’t answer. Instead she nodded toward the camp entrance. “Come on. I bet you’re desperate to see what’s outside.” She bounded across the grass, clearing the tussocks easily.

Tallpaw raced after her, zigzagging between them. He’d jump them one day soon, when his legs were stronger from training. As a moor runner! I’m going to be a moor runner! He stopped at the camp entrance and watched Dawnstripe’s gold-banded tail disappearing through the narrow gap in the heather that marked the entrance to the camp. For the first time in his life, Tallpaw was going to see what lay beyond the heather walls.

He pushed his way through the gap. Heather fronds swished over his pelt and he half closed his eyes as they flicked his muzzle. As soon as he cleared the branches, wind swept over his face. Opening his eyes wide, Tallpaw emerged onto a patch of windswept grass and stared at the wide heath stretching out before him.