Tallstar’s Revenge

Barkpaw called from outside the medicine den. “You’re back!” He raced across the tussocks and skidded to a halt in front of Tallpaw. “What did you see?”

Tallpaw winced at the sharp tang of herbs wafting from his friend. “Everything! Fourtrees, ThunderClan territory, and RiverClan and ShadowClan. And the Highstones.” His pelt pricked suddenly. “And the gorge.”

“Ryepaw said you nearly fell into it.” Barkpaw rubbed green sap from his nose.

“Is Ryepaw back already?” Tallpaw scanned the camp and spotted her sharing prey with Shrewpaw and Stagpaw outside the apprentices’ den. She had feathers in her whiskers.

“She and Larksplash caught a grouse,” Barkpaw told him.

Tallpaw could smell its scent wafting across the grass. His belly rumbled. “Do you want to share a mouse?”

Barkpaw glanced back at the medicine den. “I’ll have to check with Hawkheart.”

“I’ll fetch one from the prey heap.” Tallpaw headed across the grass. His paws stung and he almost tripped.

“Are you okay?” Barkpaw darted in front of him. “Is it a thorn?”

“My pads are sore from walking.” Tallpaw lifted a forepaw and sniffed it gingerly. There was a faint scent of blood.

Barkpaw leaned closer. “It’s just a bit grazed,” he told him. “Mine were the same after Hawkheart took me out herb-gathering the first time. Your pads will toughen up.”

“Are you checking for sores, Wormpaw?” Shrewpaw was marching toward them, puffing feathers from his muzzle.

“Stop calling me that!” Tallpaw glared at him. “Heatherstar made me a moor runner, remember?”

“A real moor runner wouldn’t look so tired,” Shrewpaw snorted. “You were born to be a tunneler. Stick to digging, Wormpaw, and leave moor-running to cats with tougher pads.”

Chapter 7

“Wake up, sleepy slug.”

Tallpaw felt a paw brush his ear. Blinking, he jerked up his head. Sunshine was streaming under the gorse, flooding his nest. It silhouetted Dawnstripe at the den entrance.

“I didn’t think anyone could sleep longer than Shrewpaw.” Dawnstripe flicked her tail. “But he’s been pacing the entrance with Hareflight since the sun touched the heather.”

“He’s just showing off,” Tallpaw growled under his breath. He hauled himself to his paws. His muscles ached after yesterday’s trek and his pads were still sore. Why hadn’t Shrewpaw woken him? They were supposed to be training together.

“Hurry up.” Dawnstripe turned and stalked away.

Pelt pricking with irritation, Tallpaw clambered out of his nest. It wasn’t as soft as his nest in the nursery, or as warm. The gorse bush that overhung the apprentices’ den didn’t stop the breeze from swirling in straight over Tallpaw’s nest. By leaf-bare it would be freezing. Stagpaw, Doepaw, and Ryepaw had already made nests at the back of the den, pressed against the smooth boulder that held back the roots of the bush. Tallpaw eyed his denmates’ nests jealously and decided to collect heather and snagged wool as soon as he got the chance, to make his own nest so deep and well protected that no wind could reach through it.

“Stop dawdling, Tallpaw!” Hareflight called.

Shrewpaw was pacing beside his mentor while Dawnstripe talked quietly with Cloudrunner, muzzles close. Stagpaw and Doepaw were at the prey heap sifting through yesterday’s catch, and Ryepaw was hauling a wad of sheepswool toward the elders’ den.

Everyone’s been awake for ages! Tallpaw shook out his pelt and hurried toward Dawnstripe. He ached all over. “My legs hurt,” he complained.

“They need exercise.” Dawnstripe’s gaze flicked toward him briefly before returning to Cloudrunner.

“But they feel—”

Dawnstripe cut him off. “You’ll be okay once we’re out on the moor.”

Tallpaw twitched his tail crossly. Palebird would have fussed over him. Sandgorse would have told him that it was growing pains and that he was turning into a fine warrior.

Where is Sandgorse? Tallpaw scanned the clearing. He hadn’t seen his father since his naming ceremony. He’d gone to his nest straight after training yesterday and was asleep by the time Sandgorse’s patrol had returned from the tunnels.

“You managed to wake up, then, Wormpaw.” Shrewpaw was staring at him.

“Yeah, bug-breath,” Tallpaw hissed back.

Dawnstripe spun around. “Only kits name-call,” she snapped.

“Shrewpaw started it,” Tallpaw defended himself.

Dawnstripe looked at him sternly.

Shrewpaw’s whiskers twitched. “Perhaps tattlepaw should go back to the nursery.”

Tallpaw dug his claws into the ground. He wanted to rake Shrewpaw’s nose.

Dawnstripe stepped between them. “We’re meeting up with the older apprentices later, to help with their final assessment.”

Tallpaw blinked. “How?” He pictured himself being mauled in a mock battle.

“They need a lure for their tracking exercise,” Dawnstripe told him.

Shrewpaw wove around Cloudrunner. “Can I help, too?”

The pale gray tom dipped his head. “Ask Hareflight.” He turned to Dawnstripe. “Let’s meet at Outlook Rock.”

“Okay,” Dawnstripe agreed. “I want Tallpaw to warm up first.”