Tallstar’s Revenge

Gray clouds massed on the horizon beyond a sea of wind-whisked heather. The moor rolled away on all sides, sloping up beyond the camp and dropping below where they stood. Gorse sprouted here and there, yellow against the green heather, clumping in thick swathes like patches of sunshine. Now that he was outside, Tallpaw could see that the WindClan camp was nestled in a natural hollow, its grassy clearing hidden by the thick, leafy walls.

“What do you think?” Muzzle high, Dawnstripe stood on a grassy hillock a few tail-lengths away and looked down at him.

“It’s huge!” Tallpaw whispered. He dug his claws into the grass to steady himself against the buffeting wind. He felt an urge to charge into the heather and run as far as he could, but fear rooted his paws to the spot. What if he ran all the way out of the territory? What if he couldn’t find his way back to camp?

“Look!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail to the slope on the far side of the camp. Birds were swooping low to the heather, then lifting high into the sky before turning for another dive. “Lapwings,” Dawnstripe explained. “They’re defending their young. There must be a weasel nearby.”

“A weasel?” Tallpaw blinked at her. He’d never seen one of those on the fresh-kill pile. Were weasels dangerous? He glanced around nervously.

“Stay clear of them until you’ve learned some fighting moves,” Dawnstripe instructed. “They’re fast and vicious and their bites carry infection. And they taste dreadful, so don’t bother trying to catch one to eat.”

Shrewpaw burst from the tunnel and stared at Tallpaw. “Looking for rabbit holes to burrow in?”

Stagpaw pushed past him. “Stop blocking the entrance, rabbit-brain.”

Shrewpaw stumbled clear as Doepaw, Hareflight, Ryepaw, Aspenfall, Larksplash, and Cloudrunner streamed out behind him.

Cloudrunner stopped beside Dawnstripe. “Congratulations on getting an apprentice,” he purred. “Where are you taking him first?”

Stagpaw butted in before the golden tabby could answer. “We’re practicing battle moves.”

Cloudrunner glanced sternly at his apprentice. “Once we’ve finished practicing not interrupting.”

“Sorry.” Stagpaw dropped his gaze.

A purr rumbled in Dawnstripe’s throat. “He’s just excited to have a new denmate.” She glanced at Tallpaw. “Are you ready?”

Tallpaw nodded. Behind Dawnstripe the moor swept down toward dense, dark green trees. Tallpaw could hear their leaves rustling from here. The trees grew so close; he imagined it being as dark as a tunnel underneath. “Is that where ThunderClan lives?” he whispered. How could they see to catch their prey?

“That’s right,” Dawnstripe meowed. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to pay them a visit!”

Larksplash paced the grass, her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt ruffled by the breeze. “I’m taking Ryepaw to the RiverClan border to refresh the scent line. Shall we travel together?”

Dawnstripe nodded. She sprang down from the grassy hillock and disappeared into a gap in the heather. Tallpaw hurried after her. As he ducked between the thick branches, he noticed that the grass underpaw was worn into a track of bare, brown earth. He smelled rabbit, though the scent was stale.

Ryepaw was trotting at his heels. “Just wait till you get to Outlook Rock,” she mewed. “You can see to the end of the world from there!”

Tallpaw followed the rabbit trail as it swerved through the heather. Dawnstripe’s golden tail-tip flashed in and out of sight and Tallpaw quickened his pace, worried he’d hold the others back. The trail widened until he could see Dawnstripe racing ahead. Clumps of black dirt littered the path like bunches of dark berries, and Tallpaw hopped and jumped, trying to avoid stepping on them.

“Sheep dirt,” Ryepaw explained.

Alarm pricked Tallpaw’s pelt. Were there sheep here? Sheep were huge. He’d seen their white backs looming beyond the camp walls. He jerked his head around. “Have you seen one up close?”

“Of course,” Ryepaw purred. “They’re harmless. You could walk under their bellies and they wouldn’t notice. They just live to chew and make dirt.” She bounded over a large clump of dirt-berries.

The ground began to slope down as heather gave way to wind-flattened grass. It felt soft and damp beneath Tallpaw’s pads. Ahead of Dawnstripe, the moor rolled onward, like a gigantic, green cat sleeping under the blue sky. Tallpaw tasted the air. Sheep dirt, rabbit, and heather swamped his tongue. Was there enemy scent hidden among all that? Tallpaw closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate.

“Tallpaw, no!”

Chapter 6

Teeth grabbed Tallpaw’s scruff and tugged him with a jerk. He gasped as he felt himself swing out into open air. Twisting, his hind paws scrabbled against stones for a moment before Dawnstripe whisked him backward onto the grass and dropped him.

“Watch where you’re going!” she spat, her eyes wide with horror.