Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 8

“Wh-who are you?” Firestar stammered. “What’s your name?”

The strange cat looked at him blankly. “It’s been so long since any cat spoke my name, I don’t need it anymore.” His eyes spoke to Firestar of deep sadness; his voice ached with it, so that Firestar could hardly bear to listen.

“Do you come from SkyClan?” he asked, though he was almost sure what the answer would be.

The pale-furred cat twitched his whiskers in surprise.

“You know of SkyClan, then?”

“A little,” Firestar mewed. “I spoke with a warrior of StarClan. She told me that there were once five Clans in the forest, but SkyClan left when—”

“Left?” The SkyClan warrior’s voice was full of contempt.

“We didn’t leave. The other Clans drove us out of the forest because they said there was no room for us anymore.”

Firestar stared at him. When he had spoken to Bluestar, she had let him believe that SkyClan had gone away of their own accord when the Twoleg monsters had invaded their territory. She never told him that the other Clans had driven them away. Surely the warrior code wouldn’t allow it? Yet he couldn’t suppress a nagging thought: would he want to give up any of ThunderClan’s territory if another Clan had asked for it?

“Couldn’t StarClan do anything to help you?” he asked.

“StarClan!” The SkyClan cat spat out the word, lashing his tail. “StarClan betrayed us. They allowed the other Clans to chase us out like rogues. When we left the forest, I vowed that I would never look to the stars again.”

“A Clan without warrior ancestors?” Firestar was bewildered.

“Our medicine cat still walked with them in dreams,” the SkyClan cat told him. “And many of our warriors kept to the old ways. I never tried to stop them. They had lost their home; how could I take the warrior code away from them as well?”

The strange cat spoke as though he had been the leader of his Clan. But before Firestar could ask him if this was true, the pale-furred warrior straightened up and looked around.

“Once we roamed over all this territory, patrolled our borders, and caught as much prey as we wanted. But then the Twolegs came.” The throbbing note of sadness returned to his voice, raising every hair on Firestar’s pelt. “This was once our camp,” he went on, indicating Smudge’s garden with a sweep of his tail. “Where we are standing used to be the warriors’ den. The Twoleg nest stands where our nursery was.

Our apprentices’ den was beneath ferns along the line of the fence, and under those bushes over there was where our elders slept.” He sighed. “It was all so long ago…”

“Where is the SkyClan camp now?”

The gray-and-white cat stared at his paws. “SkyClan have no camp,” he mewed quietly. “My Clan has broken apart and scattered.”

Firestar was puzzled. “Then there’s no SkyClan anymore?”

The SkyClan warrior’s neck fur bristled and he drew back his lips in the beginning of a snarl. “I did not say that. I said that our home has gone and my Clanmates have scattered.

Some became rogues, and some went to live with Twolegs as kittypets. But SkyClan still lives, although the cats have forgotten their heritage and the warrior code.”

Bewildered, Firestar wondered how the other cat could insist SkyClan survived without any territory, if it had broken up and no cat knew the warrior code. What made a Clan if their home and heritage were gone?

“So why have you come to me?” he asked.

“Because you’re the only cat who can help us,” the warrior replied. He padded forward until he stood within a tail-length of Firestar, and his faint, fugitive scent wreathed around the ThunderClan leader. “You must rebuild SkyClan before it is lost forever.”

Firestar stared at him. How could he rebuild a scattered Clan, when he had no idea how to find its cats, and he had a Clan of his own to lead? “But I—”

The SkyClan warrior ignored him. “You must follow the river to its source,” he commanded. “We fled upstream, and that is where you will find the remnants of the Clan, and a place where they can live.”

Firestar’s mind whirled. “But… but why me?”

The gray cat fixed his gaze on Firestar, his eyes glowing with sorrow. “I have waited long for you to come, a strong cat, a leader, and one who bears no taint of our betrayal in his blood. You are not descended from the cats that drove us out, and yet you are a true Clan warrior. It is your destiny to restore SkyClan.”

Mist swirled around him and his pelt seemed to fade into it, leaving Firestar gazing at the patch of grass where he had stood. Only his scent lingered.

Firestar sat down and wrapped his tail over his paws. He still had not moved when the first traces of dawn appeared in the sky.

The faint wailing of a cat roused him. He sprang to his paws, fur bristling. Was the camp being attacked? Then he remembered where he was; besides, the wailing sounded more impatient than terrified.

Suddenly the door of the Twoleg nest opened and Smudge shot out.

“Honestly!” he panted, hurtling over the grass.

“Sometimes I think my Twolegs are stupid! I asked and asked to come out, but would they get up and open the door?”

“Well, you’re here now,” Firestar meowed, glad that he didn’t have to depend on Twolegs for his freedom.

“Well? Did you dream about my cats?” Smudge demanded.

Firestar nodded. “I spoke to the gray-and-white cat, and I know what I have to do now.”

“What you have to do? But what about me? Why did I get the dreams as well?”

Firestar raised his tail to silence Smudge’s anxious questions. “The cats you saw left the forest a long time ago,” he explained. “Now they’re asking for help. You dreamed about them because this is where they used to live.”

“Here?” Smudge gazed around his garden as if he expected the long-lost cats to emerge from the bushes right then. “So you’re going to help them?”

“Yes, if I can.”

When Firestar saw the relief in Smudge’s eyes, he wondered if that was exactly true. He would have to leave his Clanmates and go on a long journey without knowing where it led. He would have to find a scattered Clan that had long since been abandoned by StarClan. Why should it be his destiny to save them, whether or not ThunderClan’s ancestors carried the guilt of driving them out? His duty lay with ThunderClan, and with the warrior code he had known ever since he came into the forest.

“I’d better go,” he mewed to Smudge. “I’ll tell the patrols to keep a lookout for you—and not to jump on you.”

“Thanks,” Smudge replied. “I’m really grateful, Firestar.

You’re a good friend, but I’m glad I don’t have to come and live with you in the forest!”

“I’m glad too.” Firestar gave Smudge a friendly flick on the ear with the tip of his tail. “I know you wouldn’t like it.”

“Good-bye, then. I’ll see you around sometime.” Smudge began retreating toward the door of the nest, glancing over his shoulder to add, “Let’s hope they can be a bit quicker letting me in.”

Determined to be gone before Smudge’s Twolegs found him in their garden, Firestar bounded across the grass and leaped to the top of the fence.

“Good-bye, Firestar!” It was Hattie’s voice; Firestar spotted her in the next garden, balanced on a low branch of the scratching tree. He waved his tail to her in farewell. “Come and see us again!” she called as he sprang down from the fence and plunged back into the shadow of the trees.

Once he was out of sight of the Twoleg nests he slowed his pace. For once the forest seemed strange to him. He felt oddly detached from it, as if it weren’t real anymore. Instead, he kept thinking of the moorland, and the wails of fleeing cats. Was he really meant to be following in their pawsteps?

After the damp night, the sun had risen into a clear blue sky. Every bush was draped with glittering cobwebs, and dew sparkled on every blade of grass, soaking Firestar’s fur as he brushed through. He halted, his paws tingling when he picked up the scent of approaching cats, only to relax as Thornclaw pushed through a clump of ferns, closely followed by Sootpaw, Sootpaw’s mother, Willowpelt, and Ashfur.

Firestar gave his pelt an annoyed shake. Of course, this was the dawn patrol! Was his mind so full of SkyClan that he couldn’t recognize the scent of his own Clanmates?

“Hi, Firestar.” Thornclaw padded up to him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes—everything’s fine.” Firestar wasn’t about to explain why he had spent the night away from camp.

Thornclaw exchanged a swift glance with Willowpelt, then turned back to his Clan leader. “Graystripe suggested I should take Sootpaw out with me today,” he meowed, resting the tip of his tail on the apprentice’s shoulder. “Longtail can’t mentor him when his eyes are so bad.”

“Good idea.” A pang of guilt stabbed Firestar like a claw; he should have thought about Sootpaw’s training as soon as his mentor, Longtail, had his accident. His dreams of SkyClan were distracting him from his duty to his Clan. “In fact,” he went on, “I think you should take over as Sootpaw’s mentor until Longtail is fit again.” If he ever is. Firestar didn’t dare say it out loud. He was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that Cinderpelt wouldn’t be able to save Longtail from blindness.

Thornclaw’s eyes gleamed. He was a young warrior, and so far he hadn’t had an apprentice. “Thanks, Firestar!” he meowed.

“I’ll announce it later today,” Firestar promised.

“Providing Longtail agrees.”

“I’m sure he will,” Sootpaw put in. “I’ve been taking him fresh-kill and fixing his bedding, and I can still do that.”

“Good.” Firestar gave him an approving nod. Needing to plunge himself back into the life of his Clan, he added, “I’ll join you on patrol, and Sootpaw, you can show me your tracking skills.”

The apprentice’s eyes shone with excitement at the thought of training with his Clan leader. As Thornclaw led the way along the border toward the Thunderpath, Sootpaw kept his nose to the ground, pausing to scent the air every few pawsteps.

“What can you smell?” Firestar meowed.

“The Thunderpath,” Sootpaw replied promptly. “And vole. And a Twoleg with a dog has been along here. No—two dogs.”

“How long ago?” Willowpelt asked.

“Not today,” Sootpaw mewed. “The scent is stale. Maybe yesterday.”

“That’s what I think, too,” Firestar meowed, while

Willowpelt let out a purr of satisfaction. “Okay, carry on.

Sootpaw, tell me if you scent anything else.”

They were so close to the Thunderpath that Firestar could hear the growling of the monsters as they rushed up and down. Soon they emerged from the undergrowth at the edge of the smooth black surface.

Sootpaw wrinkled his nose. “It’s really yucky,” he complained. “It hides all the other scents.”

“Right,” meowed Thornclaw. “That means you have to be extra careful.”

With the rest of the patrol following, he picked his way along the edge of the Thunderpath, keeping well away from the huge black paws of the monsters. Firestar felt his fur buffeted by the wind as they passed by.

He helped Thornclaw, Ashfur, and Willowpelt renew the border scent markings, and watched Sootpaw as the apprentice went on practicing his scenting skills. Suddenly the young black cat veered away from the border.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Thornclaw called.

Sootpaw glanced back, eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “I’ve found a really weird scent,” he explained.

“Well, you can’t follow it now,” Thornclaw told him. “This isn’t a hunting patrol.”

“What sort of weird?” Firestar asked. The reek of the Thunderpath was still blocking out most other scents.

“Strong,” Sootpaw replied. “I’ve never smelled it before.”

Firestar exchanged a glance with Thornclaw. “Okay, let’s follow it.”

This time Sootpaw led the way deeper into the undergrowth, and as they left the Thunderpath behind, Firestar began to pick up the new scent. He halted, his fur prickling.

“Badger!”

“Oh, no!” Willowpelt protested.

Thornclaw snorted. “Just what we need.” Ashfur remained silent, but his blue eyes widened.

“Are badgers bad?” Sootpaw asked.

“Pretty bad,” Ashfur replied.

“We certainly don’t want one on our territory,” Willowpelt agreed.

Firestar remembered one leaf-bare, when snow was on the ground and prey was scarce. Cloudtail had been a kit then, and a hungry badger had attacked him in the ravine. Only swift action from Firestar and Brackenfur had saved him.

Badgers didn’t normally prey on cats, but if they were hungry or scared they made formidable, deadly opponents.

“The scent’s fresh,” he meowed. “We’ll have to follow it to find out where the badger is and whether it’s going to make a den here. Well done, Sootpaw. That was a useful bit of tracking.”

The apprentice’s eyes glowed.

“Firestar’s right,” Thornclaw added. “Now, keep behind me, and let’s go.”

He took the lead, with Sootpaw and Willowpelt hard on his paws. Ashfur followed them, while Firestar brought up the rear, padding along with the strong scent of the badger in his nose. He felt his muscles tensing beneath his fur; he half expected a chunky black-and-white body to come trampling out of the undergrowth.

The trees began to thin out; the badger trail was leading toward Snakerocks. Firestar felt exposed and vulnerable, convinced that small, malevolent eyes were watching him from every thornbush or bramble thicket. This was a bad place for ThunderClan cats. When the dogs were loose in the forest they had made their den at Snakerocks; Swiftpaw had died in their jaws, and Brightheart had received her terrible injuries. Firestar imagined he could still scent the reek of spilled blood.

The tumbled rocks came into view, rising from the center of a clearing where the gritty soil was covered with small creeping plants and seeding grasses.

“Stay here,” Thornclaw instructed Sootpaw, gesturing with his tail toward a sheltered spot at the base of some brambles.

“Don’t move, but give a good loud yowl if you see anything dangerous.”

Sootpaw hesitated, as if he wanted to go on tracking the badger, then went to crouch in the shelter of the brambles with his forepaws tucked under his chest. His gray fur melted into the shadows.

Thornclaw, Willowpelt, and Firestar began to search among the rocks. Firestar paused at the mouth of the den where the dogs had lived, shivers rippling through him from ears to tail tip. He was prepared for the reek of dog to come flowing out of the dark hole, but there was nothing more than a trace of stale fox. Even the fresh badger scent had faded. At first he thought it was because the rocks and thin soil wouldn’t hold the odor for long. But when he explored further, brushing under the low-growing branches of a tree at the edge of the clearing, he realized that the badger hadn’t come this far into the territory. The scent trail had vanished before he reached the rocks.

“Willowpelt? Thornclaw?” he called. “I’ve lost the trail over here.”

He broke off as a fresh whiff of scent reached him. Firestar spun around to see a huge shape, black and yellowish white, rearing up from behind the bramble thicket, its massive paws ready to slam down on the cowering apprentice.