Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 7

“Firestar, why are you standing there with your mouth open?”

Smudge asked crossly.

“Sorry.” For a moment Firestar had been caught up in the lost world of SkyClan, gaping as if he expected prey to jump into his jaws. “Okay,” he added to Hattie. “I’ll have a quick look from the fence.” Flicking his tail to draw Smudge a couple of pawsteps away, he murmured, “I won’t be long. This might help with your dreams.”

Smudge looked doubtful, and shot an anxious glance at Hattie.

“Don’t worry; I won’t tell her anything,” Firestar promised.

He sprang up to sit on the fence and looked down into the garden. He remembered the bush now: it had been brittle and straggly, and some of its branches had been leafless. In the place where it had been a new young tree was growing with soft, tempting bark; from his place on the fence Firestar could see Hattie’s claw marks scoring the trunk.

Hattie leaped up beside him and pointed with her tail.

“That’s where the bush used to be, and there’s the scratching tree. And there’s another new one, next to Smudge’s fence, that’s even better.”

Firestar heard scrabbling farther along the fence, and Smudge hauled himself up to sit beside Hattie. “Well, what do you see?” he demanded in a low voice.

“Nothing yet,” Firestar admitted. He studied the Twoleg nests, trying to imagine what this part of the forest would have been like before the trees were cut down.

His eyes narrowed as he glanced up and down the row of nests. Smudge’s nest lay in a slight dip, lower than the others.

If Firestar had been leading a Clan back then, and had to choose a place for a camp, he would have wanted it in a sheltered hollow, perhaps with bramble bushes for extra protection, like the WindClan camp. He drew in a swift breath, feeling every hair on his pelt stand on end. Could Smudge’s nest have been built right on top of the old SkyClan camp?

That might explain why he had been dreaming so vividly about the fleeing cats.

“Smudge,” he began, interrupting a discussion between his friend and Hattie about catmint, “is it okay if I stay with you tonight?”

Smudge blinked in surprise. “Of course. But will it be okay with… with the other cats in your Clan?”

His concern moved Firestar. Smudge might be a kittypet, but he was a true friend. “They’ll be fine, I promise. I just think this will help me figure out, you know, what we were talking about earlier.”

“Oh, I see.” Smudge looked alarmed as he added, “But I’m not sure how easy it’ll be getting you inside the nest.”

“I don’t need to come inside,” Firestar told him. StarClan forbid! “I’ll be fine in the garden, thanks.”

The black-and-white cat nodded. “Okay. Well, come on over.”

“I’ve got to find my Clanmates first and let them know I won’t be back tonight.”

Firestar jumped down from the fence, back into the forest.

Behind him, he heard Hattie meowing inquisitively, “Why does Firestar want to stay in your garden? Why doesn’t he want to stay in mine?”

Firestar raced through the trees until he reached the place where he had last seen his Clanmates. Before he could begin tracking them by scent, Thornclaw appeared from behind a clump of brambles, carrying two mice by their tails.

He dropped his prey in front of Firestar. “I thought you must have gone back to camp.”

“No, something’s come up.” Firestar was reluctant to explain any further. “I won’t be back until tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong,” he added, seeing that Thornclaw was starting to look worried. “Just tell Graystripe that he’s in charge until then.”

“Okay. Cloudtail and I are just about ready to take our prey back.”

Firestar said good-bye and retraced his pawsteps through the trees to the Twoleg nests. There was no sign of Smudge, but Hattie was sitting where he had left her.

“You still haven’t told me how you joined your Clan,” she mewed as Firestar leaped up onto Smudge’s fence. She sounded put out. “Don’t you want to visit your old home properly?”

Firestar didn’t want to upset her, and he was curious to see the place where he had spent the first moons of his life.

Balancing carefully, he walked along the fence to Hattie’s side. “All right, I’ll come for a little while.”

Hattie let out a little trill of pleasure and leaped down into her garden. Firestar followed; his nose twitched at the unfamiliar scents. The flowers seemed to glare at him in the sunlight, and the close-cut grass pricked his pads. Everything seemed familiar and yet strange, as if he were gazing through some other cat’s eyes at something he had never experienced himself.

“Come and have a scratch,” Hattie invited, racing over to the tree and standing on her hind paws to score her claws down the length of the trunk. “It’s really good.” Whirling, she pointed with her tail. “And that’s the bush where birds come hopping after snails. Did they do that when you were here?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied, chasing the vague memory. “Have you ever tried to catch one?”

Hattie wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Why would I want to do that? There would be blood and feathers everywhere—ugh!”

Firestar bit back an annoyed response. A kittypet couldn’t understand that a bird—even the scrawniest, toughest thrush—might be the only thing that kept a Clan cat from starvation.

“I used to stalk the birds,” he remarked, padding over to the bush and ducking underneath its branches. “I never caught one, though. They were too quick for me. I learned how to catch prey when I went into the forest.”

“I can’t understand why you left your housefolk,” Hattie mewed, padding over to sit beside him. “They—”

She broke off at the sound of footsteps approaching.

Firestar sprang up and whipped around to see his former Twolegs walking down the path that led around the side of the nest. They had a kit with them—a female, staggering along on short, stubby legs, and clinging with one paw to her mother.

Before the Twolegs could spot him, Firestar darted out of the bush; one outlying branch raked through his fur. He flung himself up the wooden strips of the fence, over the top, and down into the shade of the forest. As soon as his paws touched the ground, he dived into the shelter of a clump of ferns and crouched there, his ears straining for the sound of the Twolegs coming after him. Had he moved fast enough, or had they seen him? He couldn’t even be sure they’d recognize him after so many seasons, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Gradually his breath slowed. Everything was quiet in the Twoleg gardens. He couldn’t hear any sounds of Twolegs searching for him, only the rustle of the trees and the tiny sounds of scuffling prey. But he stayed hidden until the sun began to set, bathing the forest in scarlet light.

Venturing out of the shadow of the fern fronds, he scented the vole he had killed earlier, dug it up, and devoured it in hungry gulps. Then in the twilight he crept cautiously back to the Twoleg nests and scaled the fence to land unseen in Smudge’s garden.

He padded forward, looking for a place to sleep near the center of the dip, where he imagined the SkyClan camp would have been. A faint sound made him jump, but it was only Smudge, dropping down from the low branch of a tree.

“There you are!” the kittypet gasped. “I thought you’d gone back to the forest. Hattie told me what happened with your old Twolegs.”

Firestar didn’t want to talk about that. “I just kept out of sight until they’d gone,” he explained.

Smudge gave his chest fur a few rapid licks, as if he was trying to hide how anxious he had been. “Are you sure you’ll be able to sleep out here?” he went on. “It’ll be cold now that the sun’s gone.”

“Smudge, I sleep out every night,” Firestar reminded him.

“I’m used to it. I don’t think I could sleep inside a Twoleg nest if I tried.”

Smudge blinked. “Oh, okay. I just thought—”

He broke off as the door of the nest swung open and yellow light poured out into the dusky garden. A female Twoleg stood there, yowling, with a bowl in her hand.

“I’ve got to go,” Smudge meowed, while Firestar crouched down behind a clump of feathery grasses. “My supper’s ready.

Are you sure—”

Firestar suppressed a sigh. “I’ll be fine, honestly.”

“Good night, then.” Smudge ran across the grass with his tail in the air and rubbed against the Twoleg. She bent down to stroke him, then closed the door.

Firestar padded down into the dip until he reached a bush covered with sweet-smelling white flowers that glimmered pale in the dim light. Sliding underneath the low-growing branches, he scraped out a rough nest, and sneezed as a couple of petals drifted down onto his nose.

As he curled up, he thought how strange it felt to be back in Twolegplace after so long. The faint sounds coming from the nest were oddly familiar, and so was the orange light spreading over the sky. The harsh glow hid the stars, so that Firestar felt even farther away from his warrior ancestors.

Gazing up through the branches, he formed a silent prayer, but it was not to StarClan.

Warrior of SkyClan, wherever you are, visit me in my dreams.

Damp cold woke him, soaking into his pelt. Above his head, the orange sky was softened by mist. Shivering, he crawled out from under the bush to stretch his stiff legs, and froze midway through a stretch.

The gray-and-white cat was sitting a few tail-lengths away.

Mist wreathed around him, and he watched Firestar with eyes the color of a pale winter sky.

“I have been waiting for you,” he meowed.