Tallstar’s Revenge

Shrewpaw and Reena were snoring gently in the nests behind him. Loneliness hollowed out Tallpaw’s chest until he couldn’t bear it any longer. He crept from his nest and slid out of camp. Beyond the heather walls, a soft breeze tugged his fur. The moor stretched before him, drenched in moonlight. Tallpaw broke into a run, relishing the wind against his fur, lengthening his strides until he felt like a bird skimming the grass. He headed for the moor-top, skirting the heather, staying in the open, out of breath by the time he reached Outlook Rock.

Up here the wind pushed hard enough to make him pad warily across the stone, taking care not to slip. He stopped at the edge and stared across the sleeping valley. Far beyond the meadows, an owl screeched. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes, seeing wings flutter in the top of a distant oak. An owl lifted and circled up into the peat-black sky. Is that what it feels like to join StarClan? Tallpaw imagined lifting off from Outlook Rock and spiraling into the stars.

The grass rustled behind him. Paws brushed the rock.

Tallpaw spun around. “Who’s there?” He could just make out the outline of a cat against the dark bulk of the moor.

“It’s me—Sparrow.” The tom’s mew was soft. “Is that Tallpaw?”

Tallpaw dipped his head. “Yes.”

“Are you supposed to be out here by yourself?”

Tallpaw turned back to the horizon. “Probably not.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Sparrow jumped onto the stone and sat down beside Tallpaw. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to fly?” Tallpaw murmured. He gazed at the owl as it swooped low over a meadow.

“I would think it’s hard work.” Sparrow’s tail whisked over the rock. “If you stop flapping, you fall. I’d rather feel the earth beneath my paws, know where I am just by looking around me.”

Tallpaw glanced at him. “Do you like being a rogue?”

Sparrow’s eyes glinted. “Is that what I am?”

“That’s what warriors call cats who don’t live in Clans.”

“Then I guess I’m a rogue.”

“Why are you here?” Tallpaw asked.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sparrow repeated.

“Not on the rock. I mean, why are you staying with WindClan?”

“It’s where my friends wanted to come,” Sparrow meowed. “So I came too.” He gazed into Tallpaw’s eyes. “Why are you here?”

Tallpaw blinked. What did he mean? Why am I with WindClan? No, that’s a dumb question. “Do you mean why am I on Outlook Rock?”

“If you like.” Sparrow turned and stared across the valley.

“I couldn’t sleep, like you.”

“Something bothering you?”

Sandgorse. Sadness and anger welled up until Tallpaw’s throat tightened. “My father hates me. He wants me to be a tunneler, but I hate tunneling.” Once Tallpaw started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I tried going underground but the river broke through the clay and chased us and now Heatherstar’s found out and banned them from tunneling and Sandgorse thinks it’s all my fault because I’m a coward.” The words rushed from Tallpaw so fast it surprised him. He stopped and took a deep breath.

Sparrow hadn’t moved. He sat as still as the rock, gazing out to the horizon. “Are you a coward?”

Tallpaw bristled. “No!”

“Then Sandgorse is wrong,” Sparrow meowed simply.

“I was scared, though,” Tallpaw confessed. “When the tunnel flooded.”

“I’d have been scared, too.” Sparrow shifted his paws. “No cat wants to be trapped underground in a flood.”

“Sandgorse wasn’t scared,” Tallpaw pointed out.

“Sandgorse has been facing floods for moons.”

“Perhaps I should become a tunneler.” Tallpaw sighed. “If I faced floods for moons, I might get used to it too.”

Sparrow caught his gaze and held it. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s what Sandgorse wants.”

“But is it what you want?”

“No.” Tallpaw’s pelt pricked with frustration. He’d been over this before. “But what I want doesn’t seem important.”

“It doesn’t seem important to Sandgorse.” Sparrow blinked. “But I’m guessing it’s important to you.”

Of course it’s important to me!

“You should spend more time aiming for what you want,” Sparrow meowed. “And less time worrying about what your father wants.”

That’s easy to say. Tallpaw twitched his tail.

“Sandgorse chose his own destiny,” Sparrow went on. “Why should he get to choose yours, too?”

In the end, we choose our own destinies. Hawkheart’s words echoed in Tallpaw’s mind. “You’re right!” Tallpaw stared at Sparrow. “Why should Sandgorse get to choose my path as well as his own? My paws are my own; I’ll decide what to do with them.” Energy surged through him.

Sparrow stood up and turned toward the moor.

“Are you going?” Tallpaw called.

“I want to see what the night prey’s like in the heather,” Sparrow told him. “I’m sure the elders will like waking up to a full prey heap.”

Tallpaw watched him pad across the rock. “Thank you,” he meowed.

Sparrow glanced back. “What for?”