Tallstar’s Revenge

The movement of Brackenwing’s body woke him. Tallpaw jerked up his head and blinked. The sky was pale, the beginnings of dawn showing over the heather wall. The elders were dragging their Clanmate away.

Palebird shifted beside him. “Can I help with the burial?” She clambered to her paws.

“Yes, you can,” puffed Flamepelt, who was crouched down as Whiteberry and Lilywhisker hauled Brackenwing onto his back.

Tallpaw felt cold air where Palebird had been. He stood up, his wounds stinging, his legs stiff from the damp grass. Redclaw and Cloudrunner shooed him backward to make way for the elders as they carried Brackenwing out of the camp.

Heatherstar dipped her head as they passed. “May StarClan cherish her as we did,” she murmured.

The rogues kept back by the wall to the camp, looking mournful and somber. Only Sparrow’s gaze glittered with something like curiosity as he watched the elders leave.

“Go and rest in your den.” Tallpaw heard Dawnstripe’s whisper and turned around. His mentor was gazing at him gently. “You must be tired,” she murmured.

“Actually, I slept all night.” Tallpaw shifted his paws guiltily. Was he supposed to stay awake?

“Then let’s train.” Dawnstripe whisked her tail. “The vigil is over. We might as well carry on as normal.” She headed for the entrance and Tallpaw followed, relieved that Dawnstripe hadn’t tried to ask how he was feeling. Her briskness was as refreshing as the wind.

They passed Sparrow and Sandgorse. The toms were talking with their heads close together, and Sandgorse’s eyes flashed with excitement. Tallpaw pricked his ears.

“You say Heatherstar’s forbidden you from going down there?” Sparrow asked.

“Yes,” Sandgorse whispered.

Tallpaw halted and sat down, pretending to search for a flea in his tail. Why was Sparrow so interested in the gorge tunnel?

“What a waste,” murmured the rogue.

Sandgorse nodded. “All that paw-work for nothing.”

“You sound proud of the tunnel.”

“I know it better than I know my own pelt,” Sandgorse declared.

“Then surely you can go down there?” Sparrow reasoned. “You know which parts are safe and which might be dangerous.”

“Of course I do!” Sandgorse snorted. “I built every step of it with my own paws.”

Tallpaw straightened up. What was Sandgorse thinking? Were his tunnels the only thing he cared about? Sandgorse thought he was special just because he could dig! Rabbits dig! They’re not special. Pelt pricking, Tallpaw ducked out of camp and raced after Dawnstripe. His thoughts whirled. Perhaps Heatherstar was right. The Clans needed warriors who could fight, not tunnels.

As they reached the training ground, the sun lifted over the forest and spilled light across the grass. Tallpaw was relieved to feel warmth washing his fur. “Dawnstripe?” he asked as she halted at the head of the grass clearing.

“What?” She looked around.

“Do we really need tunnelers?”

Dawnstripe hesitated. “It’s part of our tradition,” she told him at last. “There’s a lot of skill and courage involved. Skills that only WindClan possesses.”

“So it makes us special?” Tallpaw pressed.

“Yes.”

“But what use is it?” Tallpaw meowed bluntly. “What’s the point of digging underground when battles are fought up here?” He gestured to the endless moor with his tail.

Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “Let Heatherstar worry about whether WindClan needs tunnelers or not. We’re here to train.” Tallpaw felt a prick of frustration. She hadn’t answered his question. “Just one lap!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail and Tallpaw hared away across the grass. “You’ll be stiff after the battle, so take it easy,” she called after him.

She was right. Tallpaw tensed as pain flashed through him. But he wasn’t going to take it easy. When he was running he couldn’t think about anything else, and that felt good. He charged along the grass, brushing close to the heather, making as wide a circuit as he could. As he rounded the far end, he saw a creamy brown pelt slide out from the heather to stand beside Dawnstripe. Algernon. Tallpaw sped up, wondering why Algernon had come to the training area.

“Is everything okay in the camp?” He skidded to a halt a tail-length from Dawnstripe and Algernon.

“Of course. I just came to see what you were doing,” Algernon rumbled. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Tallpaw shrugged. “Of course not.” He peered past the rogue. Was Reena coming, too? “Where are the others?”

“Reena and Bess joined the hunting patrol,” Algernon told him. “Mole wanted to hunt alone.”

“What about Sparrow?”

“He went off with Sandgorse,” Algernon meowed. “They were talking about some tunnel that leads down to the river.”

Poor Sparrow. Tallpaw felt a flash of sympathy. Once Sandgorse got him down a tunnel, he’d talk his ears off about tunnel skills and all the rules about not leaving your tunnelmate and how to hear rabbits on the far side of the moor. He looked at Dawnstripe. “Can we practice battle moves today? In case ShadowClan attacks again.”

“Yes,” Dawnstripe meowed grimly. “I just hope you won’t need them.”