Firestar's Quest (31 page)

Firestar nodded. “We've always known that something drove the first SkyClan cats out of here and scattered them so that the Clan was destroyed. Now I think we know what that ‘something' was.”

“Rats!” Sharpclaw snarled.

“Rats,” Firestar agreed.

Gazing down at the thin claw marks, scored across the ones made by cats, Firestar found it was easy to imagine hordes of rats pouring into the gorge and overwhelming the
SkyClan warriors. They had set their marks in this cave to proclaim their victory. Firestar had no doubt that he was looking at a record of SkyClan's defeat.

This was the secret that Skywatcher had refused to tell him, the secret of how the first SkyClan had been driven from the gorge. The rats' hatred had been passed down and now it was being nourished by the leader Firestar and his patrol had met outside the barn—the rat who spoke cat, who must have learned to speak the language of his enemies to let them know exactly what he would do to them. He would stop at nothing to rid his territory of cats, just as his ancestors had done long ago.

Firestar worked his claws in the sandy floor. Were SkyClan doomed to be driven out of their homes again, just as their ancestors had been?

He padded out of the den and gazed across the gorge. Clouds covered the sky, though there was a pale gleam of light where the sun was trying to break through. Slowly the clouds shifted into a pattern of light and dark, until the SkyClan ancestor's face was looking down at him with eyes full of wisdom. Firestar's paws seemed to freeze to the rock, and every hair on his pelt tingled. Why should the SkyClan ancestor appear now, when Firestar had not seen him for so long? Somehow Firestar was convinced it must be because there was a way to defeat the rats and save the Clan.

The clouds shifted again and the face of the ancestor disappeared. But the encouragement he had given Firestar flowed through his body from ears to tail tip. “Come on,” he
meowed, glancing over his shoulder at Sharpclaw. “I'm going to call a Clan meeting.”

 

“Cats of SkyClan.” Firestar stood on top of the Rockpile, his flame-colored pelt gleaming in a shaft of sunshine. “You heard what happened today, first to Sandstorm's patrol and then when I went back with Sharpclaw and Cherrypaw. Now we have to decide what we're going to do.”

Pausing, he let his gaze travel over the Clan below. All the cats were sitting close to one another, as if they needed the physical support of their Clanmates. Petal was missing, looking after the kits in the nursery cave, but Rainfur was here, even though he wasn't a Clan warrior. Sandstorm was sitting at the mouth of the medicine cat's den, where she could keep an eye on Patchfoot and still listen to what was being said at the meeting.

“
Can
we do anything?” Leafdapple asked. “If there are as many rats as you say, how can we possibly beat them?” Her eyes met Firestar's as she spoke; she wasn't frightened or despairing, but Firestar could tell she saw no point in facing a battle they couldn't win.

He knew he had to be honest with her. “It's going to be tough. I've never come across rats like these before. But we don't have to kill them all. Just enough to make them stay in their own territory.”

“They drove out the first SkyClan,” Sparrowpaw mewed nervously. “Why should we be any different?” Shortwhisker murmured agreement, his whiskers twitching.

“At least we know what we have to face,” Firestar replied. He scraped his claws along the rock, desperate to turn this huddle of shaken cats into a Clan of loyal, determined warriors. “Your warrior ancestors are watching you now,” he told them, hoping it was true. “You should fight for
their
sakes, not just your own. This is your chance to take revenge!”

“Why?” Cherrypaw demanded. “We've never met our warrior ancestors. Okay, we're living in their camp, but that doesn't mean we have to fight their battles.”

Clovertail nodded, taking a pawstep that brought her to the young tortoiseshell's side. “Cherrypaw is right. We've got to decide what's right for
us,
not for some dead cats who already lost their battle.”

Firestar winced; Clovertail's words were harsh, but she had a point.

“And what about the kits?” Shortwhisker fretted. “
They
can't fight. But the rats will kill them if they come here.”

Rainfur bared his teeth. “Over my dead body.”

Firestar gazed frustratedly down at them. Shortwhisker obviously didn't understand the warrior code that would protect the weakest members of the Clan above all else. And Rainfur didn't seem to realize that he could rely on the Clan for help.

Before he could speak again, Sharpclaw stepped forward. “What are you, warriors or mice? Are you going to let
prey
beat you? I'll fight to the death if necessary—and as often as I have to,” he added, with a dark look at Firestar.

Firestar tensed. Sharpclaw couldn't have given a more
obvious hint that he expected to be chosen as Clan leader. But at least he seemed to have shaken off some of the despondency that had settled over the Clan like a clinging fog.

“There's no point in every warrior fighting to the death,” Firestar pointed out quietly. “Then there would be no Clan left to fight for. But think about this,” he went on. “If you don't want to fight for your warrior ancestors, then how about fighting for yourselves? You've achieved so much—making a home here, rescuing Petal and her kits. Isn't that worth fighting for?”

His heartbeat quickened when he saw that he was reaching them at last. “This is a good home for you,” he meowed, waving his tail to take in the river and the caves of the camp. “You've all worked hard for it, and you deserve to be here. Are you going to let the rats drive you out?”

“No! We're staying,” Sharpclaw hissed. “And we'll tear the throats out of any rats who try to stop us.”

“Yes!” Cherrypaw screeched, springing forward.

“We'll fight!” Sparrowpaw jumped up to stand beside them, and the rest of the Clan yowled in agreement. “We'll fight!”

Firestar gazed over their heads to where Sandstorm was still sitting outside the medicine cat's den. Their eyes met.

Oh, StarClan,
Firestar thought,
I hope I'm not leading them to their deaths
.

“How is Patchfoot?” Firestar asked as
he slipped into the medicine cat's cave. Night had fallen, and the half-moon shed silver light into the gorge. Back in the forest the medicine cats would be traveling to Highstones for their twice-moon meeting. Firestar wished he had the benefit of Cinderpelt's wisdom now.

Sandstorm looked up as Firestar entered, her eyes filled with sorrow. “He's getting worse,” she mewed. “His wound is infected—just what I was afraid of.”

“You've tried marigold?” Firestar asked, padding forward to look down at Patchfoot. The black-and-white warrior shifted restlessly in his sleep and let out a moan of pain.

Sandstorm nodded. “Petal and Rainfur brought me plenty, but it's not doing any good. I wish there was something stronger to use for rat bites, but if there is, Cinderpelt didn't tell me.” She lashed her tail in frustration.

“You couldn't learn everything in the time you had before we left,” Firestar consoled her. “I know you're doing your best.”

“It's a pretty poor best if Patchfoot dies.”

Firestar wanted to reassure her, but he knew the words would sound empty. He could feel the heat of fever rising from Patchfoot's body. His legs twitched as Firestar watched; he opened eyes glazed with pain and let out another moan.

Sandstorm rested her tail tip soothingly on his head; the black-and-white tom's eyes closed again and he seemed to sink back into a quieter sleep.

“He can't go on like this,” Sandstorm murmured. “No cat has the strength.”

Firestar rasped his tongue over her ear, but before he could say anything to comfort her, he heard a soft pawstep behind him. A sweet scent drifted around him and every hair on his pelt started to tingle.
Spottedleaf!

Spinning around, he saw the pale outline of a tortoiseshell cat with the frosty glimmer of StarClan around her. She set down a mouthful of herbs and padded up to settle close by Patchfoot, between Firestar and Sandstorm.

Am I dreaming?
Firestar wondered.
When did I fall asleep?

Then Sandstorm's ears pricked; she turned and her eyes flew wide with astonishment. “Spottedleaf!”

Firestar opened his jaws to speak, but at first not the faintest mew came out. How could Sandstorm see Spottedleaf if she was inside his dream? “Spottedleaf, how…?”

Spottedleaf silenced him by touching noses with him. “I've come because you both need me.” She turned to the herbs she had set down and patted them over to Sandstorm. “Burdock root is best for rat bites.”

Sandstorm was staring at the StarClan medicine cat as if
she couldn't believe what she was seeing. As the glossy green leaves rustled around her paws she blinked and looked down, sniffing the roots. “This will help Patchfoot?”

Spottedleaf nodded. “I'll chew the root up. You clean the marigold off his wound.”

As if she had made up her mind not to think too closely about what was happening, Sandstorm began licking the chewed-up marigold from Patchfoot's shoulder. Firestar watched numbly as Spottedleaf crouched down beside the burdock, tucked her paws underneath her chest, and began to chew one of the roots. When the pulp was ready she showed Sandstorm how to use it, patting it well down into the wound.

Patchfoot stirred uneasily; Spottedleaf bent over him. “Sleep now,” she whispered into his ear. “All will be well; I promise.”

As if he could hear her, Patchfoot sighed and seemed to settle more quietly.

Sandstorm blinked anxiously. “Will he really get better now?”

Spottedleaf nodded. “Just keep putting the root on his shoulder. You'll find more in the wood by the stream that marks the boundary. Show the leaves to your warriors; then they'll know what to look for.”

“Thank you, Spottedleaf,” Firestar meowed. Brushing his pelt against the medicine cat's, he added, “I didn't know you could come so far to help us. I haven't seen you since we left the forest.”

Too late, he realized that Sandstorm was bristling beside
him. “You mean you've seen Spottedleaf before?”

Firestar faced her to see anger and hurt in her green eyes. “Spottedleaf visits me in dreams. She helps me—”

“You never told me!”

Firestar's belly churned with guilt. He knew how insecure Sandstorm felt when she thought about Spottedleaf, knowing the connection she had shared with Firestar when she had been ThunderClan's medicine cat. But he had never felt that he was betraying her by meeting Spottedleaf in his dreams.

Before he could reply, Spottedleaf slipped between the two of them and laid her tail tip gently on Sandstorm's shoulder. “Peace, dear one,” she murmured. “Firestar loves you.”

“He loves you more.” Sandstorm's voice was choked.

Spottedleaf hesitated, her amber eyes warm as she gazed at the ginger she-cat. “That's not true. Firestar and I never discovered what we might have meant to each other,” she mewed at last. “I was alive in the forest for such a short time after he came to ThunderClan. But I know for sure”—her voice grew more intense—“that he and I could never have been mates. I was and always will be a medicine cat. That comes first, more than any cat who walks the forest, more even than Firestar.”

Sandstorm searched the tortoiseshell cat's face. “Is that really true?”

“Of course,” Spottedleaf purred. “Even now I'm a medicine cat, not for my Clanmates in StarClan, but for all the cats in the forest below.”

“I love
you
, Sandstorm,” Firestar put in. “You'll never be
second-best for me. My love for you belongs here and now, in the life we share—and it will last for all the moons to come, I promise.”

Sandstorm looked from Spottedleaf to Firestar and back again. At last she took a long breath. “Thank you, Spottedleaf. I've never stopped thinking about how you and Firestar seemed to belong together when he first came to the forest. But I understand better now.”

“I thought you always knew how I felt about you,” Firestar mewed, bewildered.

Sandstorm blinked at him. Even though her eyes were full of love, there was a trace of exasperation there too. “Firestar, you can be so
dense
.”

Spottedleaf dipped her head. “I must go, but we will meet again, I promise. Until then, may StarClan light your path.”

“Good-bye, and thank you—not just for the burdock root,” Firestar meowed.

The tortoiseshell she-cat padded toward the cave entrance and paused for a heartbeat, her pelt brushing against his. Too softly for Sandstorm to hear, she murmured, “Sometimes I would give anything for things to be different.”

She did not wait for a reply. The moonlight had faded; for a heartbeat her slender shape was outlined against the first pale light of dawn from the sky above the far side of the gorge; then she was gone.

Sandstorm shook her head. “Have I been dreaming, or did that really happen?”

Firestar stepped to her side and pressed his muzzle against
her shoulder. “It really happened.”

“I can't believe she came to help us.”

“There'll never be another cat in the forest like her. But she's not you, Sandstorm.”

Sandstorm turned to gaze at him. “No more secrets, Firestar. I promise to try to understand how important Spottedleaf is to you, but I need to be able to trust you.”

“You can,” Firestar vowed.

Patchfoot let out a sigh, distracting Firestar from the depths of Sandstorm's green eyes. The black-and-white warrior was quieter now, his breathing easier. He seemed to be sleeping more deeply.

“He's going to be all right,” Firestar mewed. “And I think the rest of the Clan will be, too.”

 

“We'll start extra battle training right away.” Firestar stood at the bottom of the Rockpile, with the SkyClan cats clustered around him. The sun had risen over the cliff top, casting long shadows down into the gorge. “We need to be as strong as possible when we go out to fight the rats.”

Sandstorm stood beside him. Since Spottedleaf's visit earlier that morning, Patchfoot had improved so much that she had told Firestar she could leave him for a while to come to this meeting. “Don't wait too long,” she advised, with a twitch of her ears. “Otherwise the rats will come and we won't be ready for them.”

Firestar knew she was right. “I want a permanent watch on the Skyrock.”

“We should send extra patrols out to the Twoleg barn, too,” Leafdapple suggested.

Firestar nodded. “Right, but not too close. I don't want a fight until we're ready.”

“I'll sort out the patrols,” Sandstorm meowed. “And the training schedules.”

“Watches and extra patrols
and
battle training?” Cherrypaw's eyes were wide with dismay. “It sounds like really hard work.”

“You'd rather have your throat torn out by a rat?” Sharpclaw flicked his tail over the young tortoiseshell's ear, and she sprang back with an indignant hiss. “
My
apprentice will do as she's told, and do it without complaining.”

Cherrypaw opened her jaws to protest, but Firestar silenced her with a flick of his ears. “We can get started,” he meowed, “unless you have any other suggestions?”

Rainfur rose to his paws. “Petal and I want to be trained as well.”

“That's right.” Petal looked nervous to be speaking in front of the whole Clan. “The kits are too small for us to leave yet, and we want to be ready to defend ourselves.”

“Thank you.” Firestar dipped his head. “We're glad to have you. Sandstorm will add you to the training schedule.”

“Either Clovertail or I must stay with the kits,” Petal pointed out.

“Don't worry,” Sandstorm replied. “I'll work around that. Are there any more questions? Right,” she went on when no cat responded, “Leafdapple and Sharpclaw, you can be the
first patrol. Cherrypaw, will you keep watch on the Skyrock? Give me a few moments to check on Patchfoot, and then I'll lead a training session with Sparrowpaw and Rainfur, and Petal, you can join us, as Clovertail's with the kits right now.”

“What about me?” Shortwhisker asked.

“You can come with me on a hunting patrol,” Firestar replied. “We'll need all the fresh-kill we can get to keep our strength up. One more thing,” he added before the cats split up for their duties. “No cat leaves the camp alone from now on. And every cat must stay alert. If the rats come, they'll find us ready and waiting.”

He dismissed the meeting with a wave of his tail. Sharpclaw and Leafdapple sprang up the rocks toward the top of the cliff, and Cherrypaw followed, taking the trail that led to the Skyrock. Petal, Rainfur, and Sparrowpaw made their way up the gorge toward the training area.

Asking Shortwhisker to wait for him, Firestar padded beside Sandstorm as she headed for the medicine cat's cave. “You know, Cherrypaw was right,” he meowed. “It
will
be hard work. We don't have enough cats to prepare for a rat attack as well as all the regular duties.” He sighed. “I'd give my pelt to have a patrol of ThunderClan warriors here now.”

“Well, you can't.” Sandstorm rasped her tongue over his ear. “But don't worry. You'll find a way. You defeated Scourge, and you'll defeat these rats.”

Firestar wished he shared her confidence. “At least Spottedleaf told us what to do for Patchfoot.”

“True,” Sandstorm replied, “but it just goes to show how
much we need a medicine cat.”

“Medicine cats are born, not made. And I've yet to see any SkyClan cat show any connection with their warrior ancestors. None of them heard anything when they went into the Whispering Cave.”

“We should have a cat who knows about herbs and can treat injuries, at least,” Sandstorm pointed out, with an impatient twitch of her tail. “I could teach one of them what I know. It would be a start.”

Firestar paused on the trail just below the entrance to the medicine cat's den. “Sharpclaw wouldn't do,” he mused. “He's far too good a warrior. Clovertail has kits…. What about Shortwhisker?”

Sandstorm shook her head. “He froze at the sight of blood when Patchfoot was injured.”

“Leafdapple, then?”

“Maybe…” Sandstorm mused. “She cares about weaker cats.”

“I know,” Firestar decided. “If Spottedleaf visits me, I can ask her.”

Sandstorm glanced away for a moment, then faced him again. “Yes, that's a good idea,” she murmured.

 

Firestar curled up in the warriors' den, his legs aching and his head spinning with tiredness. Three days had passed since he had organized the new schedule of patrols and training, and every cat had been on their paws from dawn to sunset. That morning he had led a patrol to the Twoleg barn, then
spent the rest of the day hunting. The moon was already climbing the sky before he had the chance to sleep, and he would have to wake later to take his turn watching on the Skyrock.

How long can we keep this up?

No sooner had Firestar closed his eyes than he found himself standing on the Skyrock. The moon floated high above his head and Silverpelt glittered across the sky. The night was silent except for the rushing of the river far below.

It's not time for my watch yet!
Firestar thought confusedly.

“Greetings.” A voice spoke behind him, and Firestar spun around to see a cat standing on the very edge of the Skyrock. His thick gray fur was turned to silver by the moonlight, and his eyes shone like pale flames. Frosty starlight glimmered around his paws.

Something about the cat was familiar; Firestar's first thought was that he was the SkyClan ancestor who had been haunting him. Then he caught his breath as he picked up a trace of familiar scent. “Skywatcher!”

The StarClan cat dipped his head. “It's good to see you again, Firestar. Come on,” Skywatcher went on, proving that he had lost none of his sharp tongue. “Don't stand there with your mouth open. We haven't got all night.”