Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 9

“Sootpaw! Move!” Firestar yowled.

He sprang forward but he didn’t see how he could reach Sootpaw before the badger swatted him with its blunt, powerful paws.

Then he spotted Willowpelt diving from the top of a rock to streak across the ground and shove Sootpaw out of the way with outstretched forepaws. The badger landed heavily on her back; her shriek was cut off with a sickening crunch as the huge creature snapped her neck. It scooped up her limp body with one paw and tossed it into the clearing.

Sootpaw let out a thin, wailing cry. Firestar flung himself at the badger, snarling as he raked his claws down its side.

The huge striped head turned, snapping at him with gleaming white teeth. Ashfur dashed in from the other side, leaping up to bury his claws in the badger’s neck and fasten his teeth in its ear. It shook him off easily; Ashfur hit the ground and lay still, winded.

Thornclaw crouched in front of the badger, spitting and clawing at its eyes as it loomed over him. Firestar scored its flank again, feeling a fierce satisfaction as blood welled up in the tracks of his claws. The badger let out a bellow of pain. It swung its head from side to side, then turned and lumbered off into the undergrowth. Thornclaw and Ashfur charged after it with earsplitting caterwauls.

“Come back!” Firestar yowled. “Let it go!”

Panting, he closed his eyes briefly, listening as the sound of the badger’s paws faded into the distance. Then he braced himself and padded over to where Sootpaw was crouched beside the body of his mother. He looked up as Firestar approached, his eyes pleading.

“She’s not dead, is she? She can’t be dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Firestar bent his head and touched Sootpaw’s forehead with his nose. Only five moons had passed since the young cat’s father, Whitestorm, had died in the battle with BloodClan. How could StarClan let this happen? “She died bravely, like a warrior.”

“She died saving me!” Sootpaw’s voice was shrill with anguish.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Firestar gave his shoulder a comforting lick. “Willowpelt knew what she was doing.”

“But she…” Sootpaw fell silent, trembling with shock, and pushed his nose into his mother’s fur.

Firestar looked up to see Thornclaw and Ashfur returning; Ashfur was limping heavily.

“It’s gone toward the Thunderpath,” Thornclaw reported.

“I hope a monster gets it.” He padded over to Sootpaw and sat beside him, looping his tail over the young cat’s shoulders.

Sootpaw didn’t look up.

“Are you okay?” Firestar asked Ashfur.

The younger warrior flexed his shoulder muscles. “I think so. I landed hard; that’s all.”

“Better let Cinderpelt take a look anyway, when we get back to camp.”

Ashfur nodded. Together he and Firestar lifted Willowpelt’s limp body and began to carry her back to the ravine.

Her drooping tail scored a faint line in the dust. Thornclaw followed, leading the stunned Sootpaw.

Wrapped in grief, Firestar didn’t notice the sound or scent of approaching cats until Cloudtail emerged from a clump of bracken almost under his paws.

“Firestar, you’re back!” the white warrior exclaimed. “Are you—” He broke off, his blue eyes flaring with alarm. “That’s Willowpelt. What happened?”

Dustpelt and Brackenfur joined Cloudtail to listen, horrified, as Firestar set down the dead warrior and described how she had given her life to save Sootpaw.

“Let me get my claws on that badger,” Cloudtail hissed when Firestar had finished. “I’ll make it wish it had never been kitted.”

“Shouldn’t we follow it?” Dustpelt suggested. “We should make sure it really has gone.”

Firestar nodded. “It headed for the Thunderpath,” he meowed. “Cloudtail, take your patrol and see if you can pick up its scent. Follow it and find out what it does, if you can, but don’t attack it. Is that clear?”

Cloudtail lashed his tail. “If you say so.”

“If it settles in our territory, we’ll make a plan to get rid of it,” Firestar promised. “But I won’t risk losing more cats unless I have to.”

Muttering under his breath, Cloudtail led his patrol back along the trail toward Snakerocks. Great StarClan, let them all come back, Firestar prayed as they vanished into the undergrowth.

Firestar’s legs felt heavy with exhaustion as he and Ashfur struggled to maneuver Willowpelt’s body through the gorse tunnel. Pain for his Clanmates stabbed deep into his heart.

He was their leader; he was supposed to protect them, not let cats die when he was with them.

When he reached the clearing, Graystripe and Sandstorm were sitting together by the fresh-kill pile. They exchanged a questioning glance when they spotted him; Firestar guessed they were wondering why he had spent the night away from camp. SkyClan’s troubles crashed over him again, heavier than the weight of Willowpelt’s body, but he had to push them away. There was no time to think of the lost Clan now.

Both cats sprang up and raced over to him.

“Firestar, what happened?” Graystripe asked.

“I’ll tell you soon,” Firestar promised hoarsely. “I have to take Willowpelt to Cinderpelt first, so she can prepare for the vigil.”

“I’ll let her know.” Sandstorm spun around and sped off to the medicine cat’s den.

By the time Firestar and Ashfur had crossed the camp, Cinderpelt had emerged from the fern tunnel.

“Lay her body there,” she directed, pointing with her tail to a shady spot under the ferns. “She’ll be out of the sun until dusk falls.”

The two cats did as she suggested; Sootpaw settled down beside his mother’s body as if his legs couldn’t hold him up another moment. His eyes stared into the distance, glazed with horror, as if he couldn’t stop reliving that terrible moment.

“Sootpaw needs something for shock,” Firestar murmured to Cinderpelt. “And Ashfur might have damaged his shoulder.”

The medicine cat nodded. “I’ll fetch him some poppyseeds. Ashfur, come with me.”

As the gray warrior followed Cinderpelt to her den, another shriek sounded from the opposite side of the camp. Firestar’s head whipped around, and he saw Rainpaw and Sorrelpaw racing across from the apprentice’s den. Sorrelpaw flung herself down beside her mother’s body, pressing herself against her cold flank, while Rainpaw halted in front of Firestar.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“A badger killed her,” Firestar replied. “I’m sorry, Rainpaw.

No cat could have stopped it.”

The apprentice glared at him for a moment more, his fur bristling. Then his head and tail drooped and he turned away without a word, to settle down beside his brother and sister.

“They’ll all need Cinderpelt to look after them,” Sandstorm murmured.

Firestar was too sick at heart to reply. Brushing his mate’s fur with his tail, he trudged across the camp and scrambled up onto the Highrock to call the Clan for a meeting. Already cats were creeping out of their dens, shocked and bewildered as they learned about Willowpelt’s death.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar began when they were all assembled. “Willowpelt is dead. She died bravely, and her spirit will be honored in StarClan.”

“How did it happen?” Speckletail called out.

Firestar felt as if an extra weight of sorrow descended on him every time he had to tell the story. “The badger ran off toward the Thunderpath,” he finished. “I sent Cloudtail’s patrol to track it.”

Brightheart, sitting outside the nursery, flinched when he mentioned her mate, while Ferncloud drew her kits closer to her with a sweep of her tail. Spiderkit and Shrewkit pressed themselves into her fur, gazing up at Firestar with huge scared eyes.

“What about my kits?” Ferncloud demanded. “What if the badger comes here?”

“Unlikely,” Firestar replied, flexing his claws on the hard rock. “It was a young one, and I think it’s learned that cats aren’t easy prey. We’ll know more when Cloudtail comes back. I promise you,” he added, “we’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t settle in our territory.”

Ferncloud didn’t look convinced, but there wasn’t any more he could say to reassure her.

“Tonight we will sit vigil for Willowpelt,” he announced, and sprang down from the Highrock to show that the meeting was over.

“They’re badly shaken,” Graystripe commented, padding over with Sandstorm to join Firestar outside the entrance to his den.

“Those three apprentices especially,” Sandstorm added, compassion in her green gaze. “This is a bad time for them to lose their mother.”

Firestar nodded sadly. “It’s the first cat we’ve lost since the battle with BloodClan. I think it’s hard for all of us to understand that even if we’re at peace with the other Clans, the forest isn’t completely safe.”

For some reason, alarm lit in Graystripe’s and Sandstorm’s eyes as he spoke, and they exchanged a swift glance. Firestar didn’t understand, but after the stress of his meeting with the SkyClan warrior, and the horrible shock of meeting the badger, he didn’t have the energy to question his friends.

“We’ll talk later,” he mumbled, and padded slowly across the camp to the fresh-kill pile.

When night had fallen, the elders brought Willowpelt’s body into the center of the camp for her vigil. Firestar joined them there; he looked up to see the stars of Silverpelt blazing, as if they waited to welcome Willowpelt’s spirit.

“She was much loved,” Dappletail rasped, smoothing the gray warrior’s fur with one forepaw. “And far too young to die. She had much more to give her Clan.”

“I know,” Firestar agreed, feeling hollow with grief. He had been with Willowpelt when the badger attacked Sootpaw, but he had been unable to save her. Call yourself a leader? he asked himself savagely.

He watched as Cinderpelt guided the three apprentices to their mother’s side; the medicine cat murmured comforting words as the young cats crouched down and pushed their noses into the still gray fur. More of the Clan gathered around, some staying for a little while before going silently to their dens, while others settled beside Willowpelt’s body to keep watch during the night.

How can I leave now? I can’t abandon my Clan to go off into the unknown, searching for a Clan that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe I can’t protect them from badgers that kill or rabbits that blind them, but my place is still here, serving my Clan. That’s what it means to be a leader.

Firestar looked up at Silverpelt, wondering if the starry warriors approved of his decision. But the glittering specks of light seemed very far away, and they gave no answer.

He kept watch beside his dead warrior’s body until the first rays of dawn reached through the trees. A faint breeze ruffled Willowpelt’s fur. Speckletail rose to her paws. “It’s time,” she meowed.

She and the other elders lifted Willowpelt’s body and carried it slowly out of the camp for burial. The rest of the Clan emerged from their dens and watched them go in respectful silence. When Willowpelt’s gray fur was lost to sight in the gorse tunnel, Cinderpelt swept her tail around to gather the three apprentices close to her.

“No training for them today,” she told Firestar. “They need to rest.”

Firestar nodded. “You know best, Cinderpelt.”

His limbs stiff from crouching all night, he stumbled to his paws and headed for his den. As soon as he sank into the soft moss of his bedding, darkness swept over him like a crow’s wing.

The sparkling scent of swift-flowing water flooded around him, and Firestar found himself walking beside a river.

Sunlight danced on the surface; the silver shapes of fish flickered in the shallows. He paused and looked around. The trees and bushes on the riverbank were unfamiliar, and he knew that he was dreaming.

There was a sudden turbulence in the water, and a cat’s head broke the surface, a plump silver fish gripped tightly in its jaws. As it swam to the bank and padded out of the water, Firestar recognized Silverstream, the RiverClan cat who had fallen in love with Graystripe and died bearing his kits. The drops of water clinging to her fur shone as brightly as stars.

Dropping the fish in front of him, she meowed, “Greetings, Firestar. This fish is for you.” When he hesitated, she pushed it closer to him. “Go on, eat.”

“But it isn’t a ThunderClan fish,” Firestar protested. “I don’t want to steal prey.”

Silverstream let out a little mrrow of amusement. “You’re not stealing; it’s a gift. It’s not a RiverClan fish either. You looked hungry, so I thought I would catch you some food.”

“Thank you.” Firestar didn’t hesitate any longer. Sinking his teeth into the fish, he thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. With every mouthful he felt strength pouring back into his tired body.

While he was still eating, Silverstream padded closer to him and mewed softly into his ear, “Remember the life I gave you when you became leader of your Clan? I told you it was for loyalty to what you know to be right. Firestar, that isn’t always the same as following the warrior code.” When he turned to her in surprise, she added in a whisper, “I always knew it was right for me and Graystripe to be together, even though we came from different Clans. There are some things that are too big to be contained in the warrior code.”

She touched her nose to his flank, then padded back to the river and launched herself into the water.

“Good-bye, Silverstream,” Firestar called.

He thought he heard her last word of farewell shivering in the air as the dazzle of light on the water swallowed her up.

Where she had vanished, the image of fleeing SkyClan cats appeared, leaping and flickering through the waves. Then Firestar was blinking awake in his own den, with the taste of fish in his mouth and his belly comfortably full.

Silverstream obviously believed he should go on the journey to find SkyClan. The warrior code did not account for everything that happened beneath the stars, and now he had to make amends for what the other four Clans had done so long ago. Since a StarClan cat had come to tell him this, was it the will of his warrior ancestors that the lost Clan should be restored? Perhaps even StarClan felt guilty for what they had allowed to happen.

“I must go,” Firestar murmured aloud. Even though he felt his heart torn in two when he thought of leaving his Clan, he knew that Graystripe was as loyal to ThunderClan as he was, and would care for them until he returned.

He got to his paws, shaking scraps of moss from his pelt.

When he brushed past the screen of lichen and into the clearing, he saw that it was almost sunhigh. The long sleep, and the fish Silverstream had given him, had brought back his strength, and he knew there were many things he must do before he could leave.

First he padded through the fern tunnel to Cinderpelt’s den. Willowpelt’s three kits were curled up asleep in the ferns, huddled together for comfort. Longtail was lying outside the split in the rock and raised his head as Firestar emerged into the clearing. “Hi, Firestar.”

Hope tingled in Firestar’s pads. “Can you see me?”

Longtail blinked, and Firestar saw that his eyes were still inflamed. “Yes… no. I’m not sure,” he replied. “You’re just a blur. I think I recognized you by your scent.”

“Your eyes are no better, then?”

Longtail sighed. “No. I think they’re getting worse.”

“But I’m not giving up yet.” Cinderpelt emerged from her den, speaking around the leaf wrap she carried in her jaws.

Setting it down beside Longtail, she added, “This is a poultice of marigold with juniper berry juice. We’ll see if it helps.”

“Okay.” Longtail didn’t sound hopeful, but he kept his head still while Cinderpelt dabbed the poultice on his infected eyes.

“Did you want something, Firestar?” she asked when she had finished, cleaning her paws on the grass.

“A word with Longtail,” Firestar replied. “It’s about Sootpaw,” he began awkwardly, wondering how Longtail would react to losing his apprentice.

“I know, he’s not being mentored,” Longtail mewed promptly. “It’s been worrying me.”

Firestar was relieved that he didn’t have to explain what was on his mind. “As soon as he’s fit to train again, I think I should find another cat to take over. Just until your eyes are better.”

Longtail’s ears twitched. “You don’t have to lie to me, Firestar. I know perfectly well I’m going blind. I’ll never train another apprentice.”

Firestar exchanged a glance with Cinderpelt. The fact that the medicine cat didn’t protest showed him that Longtail was probably right.

“We’ll worry about that when it happens,” he meowed.

“Right now, we need to find Sootpaw another mentor. Do you think Thornclaw would be a good choice?”

“Yes, he’s very keen. It’s time he had an apprentice.”

Longtail suppressed a sigh. “Sootpaw will do fine with him.”

“That’s settled, then. Thanks, Longtail.” He hesitated, knowing he had to tell Cinderpelt about his decision to leave, but not knowing how to begin.

Her eyes narrowed. “I can tell you’ve something on your mind, Firestar,” she meowed. “Spit it out.”

“I need to talk with you,” he began. “Will you come for a walk with me in the forest?”

Cinderpelt looked startled. “What, now?” She flicked her tail toward the sleeping apprentices. “I’ve got my paws full with those three.”

“No, after sunhigh,” Firestar replied. “I need to talk to Graystripe and Sandstorm, too. We’ll go once the afternoon patrols have been sorted out.”

Cinderpelt’s blue eyes still looked puzzled, as if she was wondering what Firestar had to tell her that couldn’t be said in her own den. “Okay, I’ll take Sootpaw, Sorrelpaw, and Rainpaw to the nursery. Ferncloud and Brightheart can look after them. It’ll do them no harm to be treated like kits for a day or two, so soon after losing their mother.”

“Great,” Firestar mewed. “I’ll meet you by the fresh-kill pile.”

But as he brushed back through the fern tunnel, a cold stone seemed to weigh in his belly as he wondered how his friends would react to his decision.

Firestar led the way out of the gorse tunnel with Graystripe, Sandstorm, and Cinderpelt following close behind; his claws flexed nervously as the time came closer when he would have to tell them about SkyClan.

“Cloudtail reported to me just before sunhigh,” Graystripe meowed as they climbed up through the ravine. “He and his patrol tracked the badger as far as the stream, and then they lost the scent in a patch of boggy ground.”

“It sounds as if it was making for ShadowClan territory,” Firestar commented.

Graystripe let out a faint growl of satisfaction. “ShadowClan are welcome to it.”

“But if any of our cats spot one of their border patrols, we should pass on a warning,” Firestar pointed out.

His deputy flicked an ear. “That’s just like you, Firestar.

You want to help every Clan, not just your own. Okay, I’ll tell the next patrols when they go out.”

“And what’s all this about wanting to go into the forest to talk to us?” Sandstorm’s whiskers twitched irritably. “Why couldn’t you tell us in the camp?”

Firestar let his gaze travel over her sleek ginger pelt and luminous green eyes. He knew he had a lot to explain, but he couldn’t work out why she was so upset now, before he had said a word.

“I wanted to talk somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted,” he meowed. “You’ll understand soon.”

He padded on, not saying any more until the four cats came to a glade hidden deep among the trees. The ground was covered with sweet-smelling grass and soft mounds of moss. Firestar found a place to sit among the knotted roots of an oak tree, and his friends settled around him in the sun-dappled shade. The only sounds were the rustle of wind in the branches and the high piping of birds.

Firestar looked at the three cats who meant more to him than any others in the Clan. “I’ve been having a lot of dreams recently,” he meowed, feeling as if he were about to plunge over the edge of a bottomless gorge. “For a long time they confused me, but I think I know their meaning now. And I’ve had to make a very hard decision…”

“But what about us?” Sandstorm blurted out, her claws tearing at the moss. “How can you go off and leave us?”

Firestar stared at her. How could she possibly have guessed that he meant to leave ThunderClan? “You’ll be fine, honestly—”

“No, we won’t!” Sandstorm spat back at him. “We need you. ThunderClan needs you as their leader! How can you even think of abandoning us like this?”

Firestar glanced from his mate to Cinderpelt and Graystripe. The medicine cat’s eyes were blank with shock, but Graystripe’s gaze was full of sorrow and compassion.

“I don’t understand,” Firestar mewed. “How did you know? And what makes you think I’ll never come back?”

“Because you spent the night with your old Twolegs,” Graystripe rasped. He turned his head away as if he couldn’t bear to go on looking at his old friend. “Do you really care for them more than you care for us?”

“What?” Firestar’s eyes stretched wide with dismay. “You think I’d abandon my Clan to go and be a kittypet?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve brought us here to tell us?”

Sandstorm challenged him.

“No! It’s not that at all. This is my home. StarClan are my warrior ancestors just as much as yours. I couldn’t live anywhere else but the forest.”

“So perhaps you’ll tell us what you are going to do,” Cinderpelt meowed tartly.

“It’s true that I have to leave—but only for a while.”

Firestar took a deep breath and told his friends how he had been visited by an unknown cat, and dreamed of a wailing, fleeing Clan. He explained how he had met Bluestar when he visited the Moonstone, and what she had told him about SkyClan.

“You mean there were once five Clans in the forest?”

Sandstorm gasped.

“Yes. A long time ago, before Twolegplace was built.”

“But Twolegplace has always been there!” Graystripe protested.

“Not according to Bluestar,” Firestar told him. Not wanting to shake his friends’ faith, he skirted around how StarClan had lied, and hurried on to the next part of his story.

“That’s why I spent the night in Twolegplace. I wasn’t with my old Twolegs. I slept in Smudge’s garden—Graystripe, do you remember my friend Smudge?”

Graystripe nodded. “That fat black-and-white kittypet.”

“I thought his garden was a likely place for SkyClan to have made their camp, and I was right. The SkyClan leader spoke to me in a dream. He told me it was my destiny to go and find the scattered cats of SkyClan and bring them together again.”

Graystripe snorted. “And if he had told you it was your destiny to fly to the moon, would you have believed him?”

Firestar reached out with his tail and touched his deputy gently on the shoulder. “I know it seems impossible. But I’ve decided that’s what I must do. I must go on a journey to find SkyClan and repair the damage done by the other Clans.”

Graystripe stared at him, his eyes stunned with shock.

Sandstorm’s gaze was fixed on him too, anger and grief flickering in her eyes like minnows in a deep green pool. Only Cinderpelt remained calm.

“I can tell how much this means to you,” she mewed. “And if it is really your destiny, then you must go wherever your paws lead you. But be careful—StarClan may not be able to watch over you. Our warrior ancestors do not walk in all skies.”

“I don’t know how you can even think of doing this!”

Sandstorm sprang to her paws before Firestar could reply to the medicine cat. “What about ThunderClan? What about your friends?” She paused, then added shakily, “What about me?”

Firestar felt her pain as if it were his own, like a sharp stone that would pierce his pads on every pawstep of the journey. Glancing from Graystripe to Cinderpelt, he rose and beckoned Sandstorm with his tail.

“Come.”

He padded a few tail-lengths from the others to a sun-warmed spot near the center of the clearing. Sandstorm followed reluctantly.

“I know you never really wanted me for your mate,” she mewed as soon as they were out of earshot of the other cats.

“You’ve always been in love with Spottedleaf.”

Firestar thanked StarClan that he had not mentioned his dream encounter with the former ThunderClan medicine cat. “I loved Spottedleaf,” he admitted. “But even if she had lived, what could I have done? She was a medicine cat. She would never have chosen a mate.”

“So I was second-best?” Sandstorm spoke bitterly, not looking at him.

“Sandstorm…” Firestar pressed against her side, curling his tail around her as she tried to move away. “You’re not second-best to any cat.”

“But you can still go off and leave me.”

“No.” Firestar had spent a long time thinking about this.

Meeting Sandstorm’s gaze steadily, he went on. “I never meant to abandon you. Graystripe and Cinderpelt must stay here to look after the Clan, but I don’t want to make the journey alone. Sandstorm, there’s no other cat I’d rather have with me than you. Will you come with me?”

As he spoke, the grief and anger faded from Sandstorm’s eyes. Her green gaze shone, and the sun warmed her ginger pelt to the brilliance of flame. “You really want me to come?”

“I really do.” Firestar pressed his muzzle to her shoulder. “I don’t think I can do it without you, Sandstorm. Please.”

“Of course I will! I—” Sandstorm broke off. “No, I can’t, Firestar. What about Sorrelpaw? I’m her mentor.”

Firestar hesitated. Sandstorm had desperately wanted an apprentice, and he knew how seriously she took the little tortoiseshell’s training. “It won’t do Sorrelpaw any harm to have another mentor for a while,” he meowed. “It won’t be the first time an apprentice has had to change—Sootpaw will have a new mentor now, because of Longtail’s bad eyes.”

Sandstorm nodded slowly. “The experience could be good for her,” she murmured.

“Then that’s settled.” Firestar didn’t ask himself what would happen if he hadn’t returned before the apprentices were ready to be made warriors. He had no idea when he would come back—or if he and Sandstorm would come back at all.

With Sandstorm close by his side, he padded back across the grass to the roots of the tree where Graystripe and Cinderpelt waited.

“Sandstorm is coming with me,” he announced.

Neither Graystripe nor Cinderpelt looked surprised.

“That’s good,” Graystripe meowed. His shock had faded; he had a resolute look in his eyes, and Firestar realized all over again what a good friend he was, and what a worthy deputy of ThunderClan. “Cinderpelt and I will take care of the Clan for you,” he promised. His whiskers twitched. “I always knew you had a destiny that stretched beyond our territory. Perhaps it’s time for fire to save another Clan.”

“We swear by StarClan, we will keep ThunderClan safe for you,” Cinderpelt meowed.

“Thank you,” Firestar replied, feeling very humble. The leaves rustled above his head and he looked up, half expecting to see the pale-furred SkyClan leader looking down at him from a branch. He saw nothing, but in the whispering breeze he seemed to hear his words repeated.

Thank you…