Cloudstar’s Journey

Chapter 1

Stripes of sunlight dappled the forest floor and the air was thick with the scent of damp new leaves. Cloudstar jerked his head up as he caught sight of a flash of dark gray movement above him: a squirrel, darting between the branches with its tail streaming behind like a feather.

“Are you just going to watch it?” meowed Buzzardtail, twitching his nose. The sturdy ginger deputy went to the trunk of the tree and peered up. “Or are you hoping it will find its own way to the fresh-kill pile?”

Cloudstar snorted. “I’ll leave that one for the apprentices to catch.” He lifted one paw and rubbed it behind his ear. “My old bones are enjoying this sun too much to go chasing about in the trees.”

“What’s that nonsense about old bones?” Buzzardtail demanded. “You’re barely older than I am, and I’ve certainly got a few more chases and battles in me.”

Cloudstar stepped around his deputy and headed for a patch of pale green ferns. “Ah, but I’ve been worn down by the burdens of leadership,” he teased.

There was a rapid thud of paw steps as Buzzardtail hurtled after Cloudstar and swiped him over his haunches, claws sheathed. “The only burden you’ll have is those kits of yours keeping you awake once they arrive. I heard Birdflight tell Hazelwing that she’s going to let them sleep in your den to give her some peace.”

Cloudstar purred. “They’ll be welcome,” he mewed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Buzzardtail rolled his eyes. “You might not feel that way when they start pulling your tail and chewing your whiskers.”

“I don’t recall you putting up much of a fight with your three when they wanted to play!” Cloudstar reminded him. Snailpaw, Tansypaw, and Mintpaw were apprentices now, strong and good at climbing trees like all SkyClan warriors, but Buzzardtail had been as soft as honey with them when they were born.

Buzzardtail grunted. “Just you wait. Chasing that squirrel will seem easy compared to looking after kits!”

The sound of a twig snapping distracted them, and both cats stared into the bracken. A blurry shape was just visible through the green stems. Cloudstar opened his mouth to taste the air. “Is that a ThunderClan patrol?” he called.

The ferns parted and a speckled gray face appeared. “Cloudstar? You wouldn’t be chasing squirrels into our territory, would you?”

Cloudstar snorted. “Of course not, Seedpelt. SkyClan cats know how to respect borders.” He spoke lightly, but he wasn’t about to let the ThunderClan deputy challenge him for no reason.

Seedpelt nodded and stepped through the bracken until she was less than a fox-length from the SkyClan cats. She stretched out her neck and sniffed.

“Our border marks are in the right place,” Buzzardtail growled.

Seedpelt opened her blue eyes wide. “Of course they are,” she purred. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Buzzardtail.”

“For once,” muttered the SkyClan deputy.

“Is everything all right, Seedpelt?” called a voice from beyond the bracken.

“Fine, thanks, Nettleclaw,” Seedpelt replied without taking her eyes from Cloudstar. More quietly, she asked, “I trust all is well in SkyClan?”

“Yes. Is there a reason why it wouldn’t be?” Cloudstar felt his hackles rise.

Seedpelt’s eyes glinted. “It’s not often I find the leader and deputy forming their own patrol. Rich pickings for rival Clans wanting a fight, I’d have thought.”

“We’re not frightened of you,” Buzzardtail snarled. He took a step forward, but Cloudstar held him back with a twitch of his tail.

“Don’t let her get to you,” he warned his old friend. “Seedpelt, I’ll grant you the respect of not watching where you set your border marks, but we will not tolerate a single ThunderClan paw on our territory.”

Seedpelt bowed her head. “We wouldn’t dream of it, Cloudstar.”

Cloudstar twitched his ears, indicating to Buzzardtail that he should follow, and the two cats headed into the trees. As soon as they were out of earshot of the ThunderClan patrol, Buzzardtail spat, “What was that furball going on about, telling us we’re an easy target for rival patrols?”

Cloudstar shrugged. “Seedpelt was just trying to distract us from the fact that her patrol was closer to our border than they should have been. That clump of ferns has always been a barrier between the territories, and ThunderClan patrols are supposed to leave their marks on the far side.”

Buzzardtail stopped in his tracks, his fur bristling. “They were lucky we didn’t claw their ears!”

Cloudstar kept walking. “I’m sure Seedpelt was shocked to find us there, and she knows we’ll be checking for ThunderClan scent marks from now on.”

Buzzardtail stomped behind him, still muttering. “Those ThunderClan cats think they can hunt where they like. If Duskstar hadn’t given them that strip of SkyClan territory to start with, they wouldn’t walk all over us as if our scent marks meant nothing. I know he was our leader, but really, it was a mouse-brained decision.”

Cloudstar gazed into the trees on the far side of the border. They grew more densely there than in the rest of the SkyClan, mostly oaks with thick trunks and gnarled, heavy branches that bent low to the ground. He hadn’t been born when Duskstar made the startling announcement at a Gathering that he would surrender part of his territory to ThunderClan, but the decision still sat uneasily with his Clan. “Duskstar had his reasons,” he meowed to Buzzardtail.

“What, that he had bees in his brain?”

Cloudstar shook his head and tried to imagine himself in Duskstar’s place, worn down by constant battles over a line of trees with old, fragile branches, while the sheer volume of leaves made it too easy for squirrels and birds to hide. “This part of the forest offered better hunting for ThunderClan warriors than for us. And he knew that ThunderClan queens had recently had several litters of kits, and their need for food was greater than their territory could provide. We may be rivals, but there have always been five Clans in the forest. If one is in danger of starving to death, it is our duty to help them survive.”

“That’s not part of the warrior code,” growled Buzzardtail.

“No, but obeying your leader is,” Cloudstar pointed out, keeping his tone light. “Thanks to Duskstar, in fact. You remember he was responsible for this part of the warrior code? And right now, your leader is ordering you to return to the camp to see what the hunting patrols have caught for us!”

“He’s back!”

As soon as Cloudstar and Buzzardtail wriggled under the brambles that surrounded the SkyClan camp, four tiny shapes hurtled across the hard-packed earth. “Cloudstar! Hazelwing said you’d teach us a battle move! Please?”

Cloudstar gently disentangled himself from the flurry of gray and orange pelts. “You seem to be quite good at pouncing already,” he mewed.

An orange tabby she-cat hurried over. “Kits! Kits! Leave poor Cloudstar alone!” She turned to Cloudstar, her green eyes apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where they get their energy from. The only way I could get them to give Birdflight any peace in the nursery was by promising you’d show them a battle move.”

Cloudstar looked down at the four eager faces by his front paws. “It’s no problem, Hazelwing. I’m sure I can keep them amused for a while.”

The biggest kit, a pale gray tom, bounced on his toes. “Does this mean we’re going to start our warrior training?” he squeaked.

“Not quite, Webkit,” Cloudstar meowed. “You’ll have to wait another five moons for that. Now, wait for me by the hazel bush and do some stretches to warm up.” The kits scrambled away, Webkit racing ahead with his brother Hatchkit, while their sisters, Emberkit and Mistlekit, followed a few paces behind.

“Do you think our kits will be so lively?” murmured a soft voice beside Cloudstar.

He turned to look into Birdflight’s amber eyes. She looked tired, her belly swollen under her long brown fur. “You should be resting,” he reminded her. “Come on, let me take you back to the nursery.”

Birdflight flicked her tail at him. “I’ve had enough of being stuck inside. Let me get some fresh air!”

Cloudstar pressed his face to her belly. Something rippled against his cheek. “I think that one’s going to match Webkit for liveliness,” he predicted.

Birdflight purred. “I can’t wait to meet him,” she purred.

“Or her,” Cloudstar put in. “Two of each would be nice, like Hazelwing’s litter. Or maybe three toms to look after their sisters.”

“My daughters will be able to take care of themselves!” Birdflight retorted, her eyes warm. “Perhaps they’ll look after their brothers?”

Cloudstar rested his muzzle on top of Birdflight’s head. He felt the tips of her ears brush against his chin like the wings of a moth. “I’ll teach them everything I know so that no harm comes to them,” he promised. “Even when they are warriors, I’ll still watch over them. They will be the most precious parts of my life—alongside you, of course.” He closed his eyes and breathed in Birdflight’s sweet scent. Thank you, StarClan, for giving me everything I could have dreamed of. My Clan is strong and happy, our borders are safe, and soon Birdflight and I will have kits of our own. You have been kind to me.

“Cloudstar! Cloudstar!” Mistlekit was calling to him from beside the hazel bush. With a sigh, Cloudstar stepped away from Birdflight and started toward the far side of the clearing. But a frantic crackle of twigs stopped him in his tracks, and he spun around to see Fernpelt leading her hunting patrol back into the camp. Her eyes were wide and worried, and she headed straight for Cloudstar once she was clear of the brambles.

He looked past her to see what the patrol was carrying. To his shock, only Snailpaw held any prey: a rather damp-looking squirrel, its gray tail dragging along the ground. “Is that all?” Cloudstar exclaimed.

Fernpelt stood in front of him, her pelt bristling. “There was nothing to find!” she told him. “We went to the border beside the pine trees, but the woods were empty. Snailpaw did well to catch that squirrel.”

“And that was only because it was half-drowned in a puddle,” muttered Acornpaw. Like the other cats on the patrol, his fur was ruffled and smeared with mud.

“But it’s almost greenleaf,” Cloudstar meowed. “The prey should be jumping into our claws!”

Fernpelt shook her head. “Not in that part of the forest. The Twolegs are making so much noise just beyond the border that they’ve scared everything away. If there is any prey left, we can’t smell it over the stench from the monsters.”

Cloudstar narrowed his eyes. Gigantic yellow monsters had been shifting huge piles of earth just beyond their boundary for a while now. They hadn’t crossed into SkyClan territory, so Cloudstar had paid little attention. Twolegs were always doing strange things, but they rarely strayed over the borders.

Stoatfur stepped quietly up to Cloudstar. He had been part of Fernpelt’s patrol. “I don’t think we should hunt along that border from now on,” he meowed. “The yellow monsters seemed much closer today, and it could be dangerous.”

Cloudstar shook his head. “I don’t agree. We know that Twolegs take trees from treecutplace, but they’ve never troubled us anywhere else. They don’t even bring their dogs into that part of the territory. Once the prey gets used to the noise from the yellow monsters, it will come back. You had bad luck hunting today, that’s all.”