Firestar's Quest (22 page)

Sandstorm flexed her injured leg and put her paw to the ground. “I'll be okay.”

Firestar examined his belly wound, drawing his tongue a few times over the blood-soaked fur. To his relief, the scratch wasn't deep, and the bleeding had already stopped. “We'll be fine,” he meowed. “We needed a fight to liven us up.” To his
surprise, he realized that was true; for several days now he and Sandstorm had done little except rest in the warriors' cave and occasionally hunt. Now he felt more alive, more like a true Clan warrior.

“You're all so brave! Thank you so much! You saved my kits.”

Firestar turned to see the pale brown she-cat guiding three kits toward them, her tail curled protectively around them: a black tom, a ginger tom, and a tiny white she-cat.

“I'm Clover,” the she-cat announced, “and these are Rock, Bounce, and Tiny.”

Sandstorm dipped her head. “I'm Sandstorm, and this is Firestar.”

Firestar turned to the other rogue, waiting for him to introduce himself. Instead, he met a challenging gaze from green eyes that sparked with intelligence. “Names are easy,” the ginger tom meowed, “but who
are
you? What are you doing here, and how long do you mean to stay?”

For a few moments Firestar was taken aback. The questions, and the cat's authoritative tone, reminded him of how he might have spoken if he had come across rogues in ThunderClan territory.

“I saw you farther down the gorge,” he began.

“And I saw you.” The ginger tom's ears flattened. “You were hunting with those two crazy kittypets. Why do you want to bother with them?”

“Cherry and Boris are okay,” Sandstorm mewed defensively.

“What does it matter why they're here?” Clover broke in. “The fox would have eaten my kits if they hadn't come along!”

“
I
was here, wasn't I?” the ginger tom growled. He unsheathed powerful claws and dug them into the sandy earth. “I can see off any fox that's ever been born.” His gaze rested on Firestar again. “So, what's your story?”

“You won't go yet, will you?” Clover begged, with a nervous glance into the shadows. “The fox might come back.”

“We'll stay for a while,” Sandstorm promised.

Clover lay down in the mouth of her den so that her three kits could burrow into her side and feed. The other cats settled down beside her, Firestar and Sandstorm licking their wounds in between telling the ginger tom about SkyClan.

“I've seen that old cat a few times,” the rogue meowed when Firestar recounted his meeting with Sky. “I've never spoken to him, though. He looks mad to me.”

“He's not mad. He knows more about the lost Clan than any cat alive.” Firestar explained what Sky had told them. “The Clan lived here many moons ago, in the caves near the rocks where the river pours out. They're all gone now, but Sky believes that I can find their descendants and rebuild the Clan.”

Firestar was suddenly aware of how foolish he sounded. “I know it's a big decision for any cat…,” he went on.

“Not for me.” Clover looked up, her ears pricked. “I'd come and live in your Clan in a heartbeat. My kits' father went away before they were born, and it's hard bringing them
up on my own.” She drew her tail more closely around her kits; by now they had finished suckling, and lay sleeping in a tricolored puddle of warm fur. “Suppose that fox comes back when you've gone?”

“
I
could look after you,” the rogue tom reminded her. “I turned up in time today, didn't I?”

“But you hardly ever come this far up the gorge,” Clover retorted. “How often have we spoken to each other before now?” Ignoring his hiss of annoyance, she turned back to Firestar. “I'll join the new Clan. We'll all come back to the caves with you today.”

Firestar felt his paws tingle with excitement. A nursing queen and three kits was a valuable addition to any Clan. “Well, that's great. We can go now. What about you?” he added with a glance at the ginger tom. “Will you join us too?”

“I manage fine by myself, thanks.”

Firestar's pelt prickled with disappointment. This proud, strong, intelligent cat would make a good warrior.

“Mind you,” the rogue went on, before Firestar could think of a way to persuade him, “I like the idea of training cats to defend themselves. And I liked the fighting moves you used to drive the fox away.”

“Come with us and we'll teach you,” Firestar offered.

The ginger rogue blinked at him. “You'd really teach me everything you know?” He sounded as if he couldn't believe cats would share battle secrets that would make them easier to fight.

“Of course,” mewed Firestar. “Clanmates don't fight one
another, except for training.”

“That could be a good way to live,” the rogue meowed.

“Then you'll come?” Sandstorm asked eagerly.

The rogue hesitated, then dipped his head. “I'll give it a try. But I'm not promising to stay for good.”

“We won't ask you to decide that yet,” mewed Firestar. “Just come to the caves for a while, and find out more about what it means to live in a Clan.”

“And tell us your name, please,” Sandstorm added.

For a few heartbeats the ginger tom was silent, staring into the distance. “Living alone, a cat doesn't need a name, but now…A long time ago, I think my mother called me Scratch.”

 

The waning moon floated above the gorge, shedding pale light over the Skyrock. Firestar jumped over the cleft and stood back to wait for Sandstorm.

“Well?” he asked when his mate had landed by his side. “What do you think? Have we got the makings of a new Clan?”

Sandstorm sat down and gave her chest fur a few quick licks. “It's a start,” she mewed, “but there's a long way to go yet.”

“I know,” Firestar replied. “I'm afraid Scratch will decide not to stay. He didn't want to sleep in the warriors' cave with us tonight. He's still thinking like a rogue.”

“Give him time. What worries me,” Sandstorm went on, drawing one paw over her ear, “is the way Clover wants to be looked after the whole time. I tried to tell her that the proper
place for her and her kits is in the nursery—I even offered to collect the moss and bracken for her—but would she listen? She insists on sleeping in the warriors' cave, in case the fox finds her.”

“She needs time too,” Firestar comforted her, resting his tail tip on her shoulder. “She had a nasty fright today. She'll soon learn fighting skills, and then she'll realize she can look after her kits herself.”

“I hope you're right,” Sandstorm meowed.

Firestar heard the sound of pawsteps on the trail leading up to the Skyrock. He glanced down, half prepared to see Scratch, but to his surprise the cat who came into sight was Sky.

“What's he doing here?” he murmured to Sandstorm. “The moon isn't full.”

Moonlight turned the old cat's gray pelt to silver; he walked with his head raised proudly, like a true warrior of SkyClan. As he approached the Skyrock, he quickened his pace, and leaped across without hesitation to land on the smooth surface.

“Greetings, Sky.” Firestar and Sandstorm dipped their heads to him.

The old cat returned their greeting with a brief nod. “I saw more cats arrive today.”

“That's right.” Firestar expected Sky to sound more pleased, but there was a wary glitter in his eyes. “I think we might be on the way to rebuilding SkyClan.”

A low growl rumbled in Sky's throat. “That ginger rogue would tear your throat out as soon as look at you. And as for
those kittypets! I don't know why you're wasting your time with them.”

“The kittypets will be fine,” Sandstorm mewed. “They're young; they've got lots of time to learn. And they're true SkyClan cats! Have you seen how high they can leap?”

Sky just sniffed.

“And Scratch—that's the ginger rogue's name,” Firestar went on, “is tough and a fighter, and once he's learned about the warrior code, he'll be just the sort of cat a Clan needs.”

To his relief the old cat nodded. “Maybe you're right,” he mewed grudgingly. “At least you're keeping your promise.”

He raised his head to the glitter of Silverpelt above them. Following his gaze, Firestar wondered if the SkyClan ancestor was watching.
Are you pleased too?
he wondered.
Is this what you wanted from me?

There was no answer, nothing but the distant blaze of stars.

“Cats who live in a Clan
send out hunting patrols several times a day,” Firestar explained, pausing at the end of the line of Twoleg fences. “And we patrol the borders twice, once at dawn and once at sunset.”

“So are we the dawn patrol?” Boris asked.

“Mouse-brain!” His sister Cherry swiped at him with one paw. “SkyClan doesn't
have
borders yet. We're hunters, aren't we, Firestar?”

“That's right,” Firestar meowed. “We'll have borders soon, when I know the territory a bit better, and see how many cats are going to be living here. Meanwhile, this is SkyClan's first proper hunting patrol.”

Cherry gave a happy little bounce. “Great! We haven't caught much, though,” she added, sounding disappointed. “I can't seem to pick up any scent at all.”

“That's because it's wet,” Firestar told her. “Even experienced hunters find it hard.”

Fog filled the gorge and stretched over the scrubland on the cliff top as far as the Twolegplace. The rising sun shone through it with a milky light. Every grass stem was bent with
the weight of water droplets, and dew misted on the cats' fur.

“But that's no excuse for taking risks.” Scratch looked up from where he was digging up some fresh-kill they had buried earlier. “I couldn't
believe
you two. You leaped straight into that garden without looking.”

“Sorry,” Cherry muttered, while Boris scrabbled his forepaws on the ground in front of him.

“‘Sorry' is all very well,” snapped the rogue. “You nearly landed right on top of that dog. If Firestar hadn't distracted it, you would be dog food by now.
And
you lost the squirrel you were chasing.”

Boris sighed. “It was lovely and fat.”

Scratch rolled his eyes and went back to scraping away the earth over their prey.

Firestar gave him a quick glance. It was four days since Scratch and Clover had come to live in the caves, and Scratch's hunting skills were already proving useful, but he had no patience with the two kittypets.

“They'll learn,” Firestar meowed, and added to Cherry and Boris, “You're coming along really well.”

“Can we come and live in the camp all the time?” Cherry begged.

“Not yet.” Firestar was relieved the young cat was so keen to join the Clan, but he wondered if she realized what a huge decision she was making. “What about leaving your housefolk?”

Cherry's tail drooped and her eyes grew more thoughtful. “I like sitting on a lap and being stroked, and I like playing
with our housefolk and making them laugh…but I like hunting too. I wish we could have both.”

“Well, we can't,” mewed Boris. “I worry about our housefolk missing us, too. If we could just tell them that we'll be okay…” He took a deep breath. “But if we are really descendants of the first SkyClan, we belong in the gorge.”

Firestar blinked at him. “I think you need to take your time before you make the final decision.” Scratch had been right to scold them for dashing into the garden, even though he could have been more tactful. The kittypets' biggest fault was charging blindly into things. But at least it showed they had courage, a valuable quality in a warrior.

“How much longer?” Cherry demanded. “Can we be apprentices soon?”

Before Firestar could reply, Scratch looked up. “Are we just going to stand around here? I want to be back in the gorge before the mist clears. I've never had anything to do with Twolegs, and I don't intend to start now.”

“Good thinking,” Firestar meowed. Already the Twoleg nests were standing out more clearly against the dawn sky, and he could hear a monster waking up in the distance. “Bring your prey, and let's go.”

As he led the way across the scrubland, his jaws full of fresh-kill and his ears pricked for any sound of danger, optimism swept over him. He was leading a patrol, taking prey back to a camp. For the first time since he left the forest, he felt as if he were really part of a Clan.

 

By the time they returned to the warriors' cave, the sun had burned off most of the mist. Even though the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, the gorge was still bathed in the heat of greenleaf.

Sandstorm was climbing the trail from the gorge. Her green eyes were sparking with annoyance, and the tip of her tail flicked.

“What's the matter?” Firestar asked, setting down his fresh-kill at the cave entrance.

Sandstorm beckoned with her tail, so he took a few pawsteps down the path to meet her, away from Scratch and the kittypets.

“It's Clover,” she murmured when he was close enough to hear. “I've been trying to teach her some fighting skills. She's a strong, healthy cat—she shouldn't have any problem—but can I make her see why she has to learn? ‘Oh, you and Firestar are such good fighters I know you'll look after us all.'” Sandstorm let out a sigh. “She's keen enough to join SkyClan, but just for protection. She's not interested in the warrior code, or what
she
might do for other cats.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “That could be difficult for her to learn right now,” he mewed. “It's natural for a queen to put her kits' safety first. And she must be pretty tired, raising those three lively youngsters.”

“But at least she could
try,
” Sandstorm pointed out. She glanced down into the gorge where Clover was basking on a rock by the side of the pool, with her kits frisking around her. “Bounce and Rock and Tiny were trying to copy what I was
showing their mother. Honestly, I think they learned more than she did!”

Firestar pressed his muzzle against hers. “It'll work out. She couldn't have a better teacher.”

Sandstorm gave him a sidelong glance, and seemed to relax. “Let's go down to the river,” she mewed. “My paws could do with bathing.”

Firestar's paws felt sore, too, and as he followed Sandstorm down the stony trail he longed to feel the cool, damp earth of the forest under his pads. A few fox-lengths upstream he could hear the excited squeals of Clover's litter.

“You know, those kits are almost ready to be apprenticed,” he remarked as they stood in the shallows.

“They must be nearly six moons old,” Sandstorm agreed, blinking against the sunlit dazzle on the water. “But we can't apprentice them until we find a few more mentors.”

“I'll ask Scratch and Clover if they know of any more cats,” Firestar meowed.

He broke off at the sound of voices calling his name from somewhere up above. Cherry and Boris were charging down the rock face, springing gracefully down sheer stretches of rock where Firestar and Sandstorm had to pick their way more cautiously.

“Firestar!” Cherry panted as she sprang to the ground and pelted along the bank toward him. “We had an idea!”

“You mean
I
had an idea,” Boris mewed, bouncing up to stand beside his sister.

Cherry tried to shoulder him into the water, but Boris
ducked away and swiped one paw over her ear. Cherry pounced on him, and the two kittypets wrestled at the very edge of the river.

“When you've quite finished,” Sandstorm interrupted, “maybe you'll tell us what your idea is.”

The two young cats straightened up, looking embarrassed. “I guess apprentices don't do that,” Cherry muttered.

Apprentices do that all the time,
Firestar thought. “I'm listening,” he meowed.

“I thought you should have a meeting,” Boris explained, his fur fluffed up with enthusiasm. “We can tell all the cats who live near here to come, so you can tell them about the new Clan.”

“But we don't know any other cats,” Firestar pointed out.

“No, hang on,” Sandstorm meowed, before Boris could reply. “I think it's a good idea. After all, we're looking for cats who can live together and cooperate with one another, so if they turn up to a meeting they've already passed the first test.”

“I hadn't thought of that.” Firestar waded out of the river, shook each paw in turn, and sat down on a sun-warmed rock. “Right, go on. Where do we find these cats?”

“
We
find them.” Cherry's green eyes sparkled. “We can pass the message on to all the other kittypets. We'll go now if you like.”

“They'll all be outside on a day like this,” Boris added.

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm. “Okay,” he decided. “We'll give it a try—but if we expect these cats to
come to a meeting they deserve to see who'll be talking to them. I'm coming with you.”

 

Firestar peered down through a rustling screen of leaves into the Twoleg garden. He couldn't see much except for a stretch of grass and a few clumps of bright Twoleg flowers, but there was a strong scent of cat.

Cherry and Boris were crouched on the branch below him. “Hey, Oscar!” Cherry called. “Come up here! We want to talk to you.”

A moment later Firestar spotted a muscular black tomcat racing across the grass. He launched himself into the tree with a magnificent leap.
SkyClan blood,
Firestar thought as the newcomer balanced on the branch beside Boris and Cherry.

“What's going on?” he asked. His whiskers twitched as he looked up at Firestar. “Who's he?”

Firestar took a deep breath. “My name's Firestar,” he meowed, deciding not to confuse the black cat with details about the forest and ThunderClan. That wasn't important now. “Have you ever heard of SkyClan? The cats who used to live in the gorge by the river?”

Oscar swished his tail. “Nope. Never heard of them.”

Cherry and Boris exchanged a glance; Cherry opened her jaws to reply, but Firestar silenced her with a flick of his ears.

“But they've heard about you,” Firestar went on, “and there are things you need to know about them. We're holding a meeting tomorrow night in the gorge, by the rocks where the river flows out. Will you come?”

Oscar's eyes narrowed to brilliant green slits. He raised one paw and slid the claws out, contemplating them coolly. “Might. Might not.”

Firestar bit back his frustration. He guessed Oscar was a bit of a show-off, but at the same time this was a strong cat who would be a useful Clan member. “You see, I'm trying to rebuild SkyClan, and I'm looking for any cats who might be interested in joining.”

Oscar stretched his jaws wide in a yawn. “Why would I want to do that?” Not waiting for an answer, he jumped down from the tree and disappeared.

“Come anyway! See what you think!” Firestar called after him.

Cherry's neck fur bristled. “We should have known better than to ask him!” she mewed. “He's a real pain in the tail.”

“Never mind,” Firestar replied. “We have to ask as many cats as we can.”

“Let's get on, then.” Boris sprang impatiently to his paws. “I think we should talk to Hutch next.”

“Yes, let's.” Cherry's eyes gleamed and she swiped her tongue over her whiskers. “His Twolegs give him
cream
!”

The two kittypets led Firestar along the fence of Oscar's garden and down into a narrow alley. Firestar's fur prickled as he remembered being lost in the other Twolegplace while he was looking for Sandstorm, but his two guides trotted ahead confidently.

Before they had gone far, another cat appeared around the corner and halted with its pelt bristling, then relaxed as
Boris and Cherry drew closer.

“Hi, Bella,” Cherry greeted her. “Come and meet our new friend.”

Firestar padded up to Bella, a pretty tabby-and-white she-cat with warm amber eyes. He was reminded of his sister Princess, who lived in the Twolegplace that bordered the forest. This cat didn't look as if she had SkyClan ancestry; she didn't have the same powerful haunches as Boris and Cherry, and when she raised her paw to dab at a piece of dust on her nose, her pads were soft and pink.

“Hello.” Bella dipped her head politely. “You're new around here. Where do your housefolk live?”

“Firestar doesn't have housefolk,” Boris informed her. “He's a Clan cat.”

Bella's eyes stretched wide with curiosity, changing to wonder as Firestar briefly told his story.

“You'll come to the meeting, won't you?” Cherry prompted when he had finished. “It'll be great, living in a Clan! I'll show you how to catch mice.”

Bella shook her head. “I couldn't possibly do that. I would miss my housefolk far too much, and they would miss me.”

“But—” Boris began.

“No,” Bella repeated more firmly. “The other night I got shut in the neighbor's shed, and when I got back my housefolk's kits were wailing. I can't bear to think of them upset like that again.” She pressed her muzzle affectionately against Cherry's. “But I hope you enjoy living in this new Clan, if that's what you want.”

“Thanks, Bella.” Cherry looked unusually serious. “We'll come and visit you sometimes; I promise.” She watched as the she-cat trotted away down the alley. “I'll miss her,” she muttered. “She's a good friend.”

Boris gave her ear a quick lick. “Come on; let's go and find Hutch.”

At the other end of the alley Cherry and Boris paused beside another fence. One of the wooden strips was broken at the bottom, leaving a space just wide enough for a cat to squeeze in.

“We've got to be careful,” Boris warned. “Hutch's Twolegs have a dog as well. It should be shut up, but keep your eyes open.”

Cherry had already pushed her way through the gap. Firestar followed warily, while Boris brought up the rear.

On the other side of the fence, Firestar found himself in a thicket of strong-smelling bushes. Beyond it a stretch of grass led up to a path made of sharp little stones running around the Twoleg nest.

“Hey, Hutch!” Boris yowled. “Are you in there?”

Firestar stiffened as a flurry of barking came from the nest, but no dog appeared. Instead, a tiny door swung open in the big Twoleg door, and a dark tabby cat poked its head out. Spotting Cherry and Boris, he slid out the rest of the way, bounded across the stony path without flinching, and raced over the grass to meet them in the shadow of the bushes. He was not as powerfully built as Oscar, but he looked strong, and Firestar had noticed when he crossed the path that he
had the hard pads that were a mark of SkyClan. He smelled strongly of kittypet food.