Tallstar’s Revenge

“I’m already warm,” Tallpaw told her. The greenleaf sun was hot on his pelt, even though it had hardly lifted above the heather.

“I meant I want you to stretch your muscles,” Dawnstripe told him. “You’ll need to lose yesterday’s stiffness before you work with the older apprentices.”

Tallpaw’s pelt burned, and not from the sunshine. He glared at Shrewpaw, ready for a stinging comment. A gray pelt slid in front of him, distracting him.

“Hi, Hickorynose,” mewed Tallpaw.

The tunneler padded past Tallpaw without speaking and pushed his way through the entrance tunnel. Sandgorse followed.

Tallpaw darted forward. “Sandgorse!”

But Sandgorse didn’t seem to hear him. Tallpaw stared in surprise as his father ducked into the tunnel and disappeared.

Dawnstripe’s whiskers brushed his ear. “He must be thinking about the new tunnel,” she murmured. “Mistmouse was saying they’ve reached a tricky seam of gravel.”

“I guess.” Tallpaw stared sadly at the trembling heather. Were the tunnelers going to treat him like he was from a different Clan now?

Hareflight marched past Shrewpaw. “Let’s get going.”

Dawnstripe followed him. “Come on, Tallpaw. Let’s race some of that stiffness from your legs.” She ducked through the gap. Shrewpaw pushed in after her. Tallpaw followed, wondering if it was possible to race stiffness away.

A light breeze whisked his ears as he emerged onto the smooth grass. He scanned the moor for a sign of Sandgorse, but his father had already disappeared. Dawnstripe’s golden tail flashed between two bushes. Tallpaw could hear paw steps thrumming, and raced after her. He zigzagged along the weaving track, narrowing his eyes against the twigs that lashed his face. Would he ever know all the trails on the moor as well as Dawnstripe seemed to? She ran ahead, sure-pawed, making each twist and turn as easily as a rabbit. Tallpaw felt awkward, jerking around the corners, tripping on roots, and trying not to fall.

The trail lightened up ahead and the heather suddenly opened onto a clearing on the hillside. Dawnstripe skidded to a halt. “This is where you’ll do most of your training.” She nodded to the wide sweep of grass. Boulders clustered at the far end of the sheltered space.

Hareflight and Shrewpaw burst from the heather behind them and stopped. Hareflight flicked his tail. “Three laps,” he ordered Shrewpaw.

Shrewpaw tore away, following the line of bushes around the edge of the clearing. He sped over the grass, fast as a skimming bird.

Tallpaw blinked at Dawnstripe. “Me too?”

“Just once around,” she told him.

Tallpaw hared after Shrewpaw as fast as he could. He didn’t want to lag behind his denmate.

“Take it easy!” Dawnstripe called after him. “You’re just warming up, remember?”

So’s Shrewpaw! Tallpaw raced harder.

His lungs ached. A cramp stabbed his ribs. Shrewpaw was already halfway back. At this rate, the dark brown tom would lap him by the time he reached Dawnstripe. Tallpaw forced himself to keep going. The grass flashed beneath him as he fought for each breath. Shrewpaw slithered past Hareflight and Dawnstripe. Tallpaw began to gain ground. Dragging in another breath, he hurtled the last few tail-lengths and skidded to a halt beside Dawnstripe.

He collapsed onto the grass, flanks heaving. “Fast, huh?” he gasped, pleased with his effort.

“It’s not a race.” His mentor leaned over him. “The best warrior is the one who’s still fighting at the end of the battle. Don’t use up all your strength in the first fight.”

Tallpaw looked up at her, eyes glazed as he panted.

“Come on, Shrewpaw!” Hareflight called to his apprentice. “Longer strides!”

“Watch him,” Dawnstripe ordered. “See how much land he covers with each step. Watch how he stretches forward each time his paws leave the ground. Speed is vital, but you need to be in control of the speed.” She nosed him to his paws. “You’re fast, but you run like prey, not a hunter.”

Hareflight was still watching Shrewpaw. “Nice paw-work,” he called as Shrewpaw swept past. Tallpaw felt the wind from his pelt.

He watched how Shrewpaw curved his spine with each stride, stretching his forepaws and tucking his hind legs in close before thrusting himself out flat again. “Can I try again?” he asked Dawnstripe.

“Got your breath back?” Dawnstripe asked.

“Yes.”

“Don’t aim for speed,” Dawnstripe warned. “You need your strength later.”

Tallpaw dipped his head and padded away. He broke into a run, not pushing hard at first but gaining rhythm and speed as he crossed the grass. He focused on each bound, curving his spine the same way Shrewpaw did, and reaching out with his forepaws a little farther before they touched the grass. He pushed harder with every stride until he was aware of nothing but the steady thrumming of his paws and the way his breath fell in time with his pace. He was suddenly moving with ease, as though the wind were carrying him while the grass slid beneath him like air beneath a swallow’s wings.