Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 10

Firestar padded through Cinderpelt’s fern tunnel, swiping his tongue around his jaws to clear the bitter taste of the traveling herbs.

Behind him, he could hear Sandstorm talking to the medicine cat.

“Let me make sure I’ve got this straight. Cobweb to stop bleeding, marigold for infection, yarrow to get rid of poison…”

“That’s right,” Cinderpelt replied. “And if you get belly-ache, watermint or juniper berries are good.”

Sandstorm began repeating the remedies under her breath. In the two days since Firestar had asked her to come with him, she had spent most of her time learning what she could from Cinderpelt. “It’ll be dangerous, going off without a medicine cat,” she had explained to Firestar. “At least I can learn what the most useful herbs are.”

Firestar emerged from the ferns and bounded across to the Highrock. His cats parted in silence to let him through; their gazes followed him as he sprang up onto the Highrock.

“They don’t want you to go,” Sandstorm murmured, joining him a few moments later.

“I know.” Firestar suppressed a sigh. Apart from leading 1 1 3

his warriors into battle against BloodClan, this was the hardest thing he had ever had to do as Clan leader.

He looked down to meet the puzzled eyes of his Clan. It broke his heart that they seemed hurt by his reluctance to tell them about his journey; yet how could he tell them where he was going, when he didn’t know himself? He had to let them think it was StarClan sending him away, not a Clan they’d never heard of, with no place left in the forest.

Graystripe stood at the base of the rock with the Clan warriors around him. Firestar spotted Sootpaw with Thornclaw, and Sorrelpaw with her new mentor, Dustpelt. Rainpaw and Cloudtail sat next to them; Firestar was glad to see the three apprentices beginning to get over the shock of their mother’s death, enough to return to training. Brambleclaw was sitting with Ashfur and Mousefur. Speckletail was glaring up at Firestar as if he were an apprentice who had scratched her while searching for ticks. Dappletail and One-eye sat close together, whispering and casting swift glances up at the cats on the rock.

Cinderpelt guided Longtail out of her clearing and brought him to sit nearby. Outside the nursery Ferncloud sat with Brightheart; instead of playing, Ferncloud’s two kits crouched close to their mother, as if even they understood how troubled the Clan was.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar began. “It’s time for us to leave—”

“And what for, that’s what I want to know,” Mousefur interrupted, the tip of her tail twitching. “StarClan are supposed to look after the forest. Not send a Clan leader gallivanting off who knows where.”

“What can be more important than caring for your Clan?”

Thornclaw added.

Firestar couldn’t answer. His warriors were right. But they hadn’t heard the cats wailing in the mist; they hadn’t seen how desperate the SkyClan leader was to find his lost Clan.

“And what about my kits?” Ferncloud fretted. Her claws worked on the dusty ground. “There’s a badger somewhere in the territory. Have you thought about that?”

“Yes, of course I have,” Firestar replied, finding his voice.

“But ThunderClan has a deputy. I trust him to look after the Clan just as well as I do. And you have Cinderpelt to take care of any injuries and interpret the signs of StarClan. No Clan could have a better medicine cat.”

Cinderpelt bowed her head; Graystripe’s eyes glowed, while a murmur of agreement rose from the rest of the Clan.

“Firestar wouldn’t leave us unless he had to.” It was Brightheart, stepping forward from where she had been sitting next to Ferncloud. “If StarClan has told him he must go, then we must trust our warrior ancestors to take care of him and bring him safely back. They have never let us down before—why would they take our leader from us now if it wasn’t the right thing to do?”

Firestar’s pelt crawled as the other cats agreed; they were obviously comforted by the thought that there were good, wise cats watching over them, always making the right decisions and fighting for truth and honor. But if their faith meant they would let him go…

“They don’t like you going,” Sandstorm murmured, “but they will accept it if it is the will of StarClan.”

Firestar hoped she was right; selfishly, he didn’t want to leave with the protests of his Clanmates ringing in his ears.

He straightened up, even though every bone in his body was screaming at him to change his mind, to stay in the forest where he belonged. “Good-bye, all of you.”

There was an ominous silence, and Firestar felt his pelt singed by many scorching stares. He knew what was in his Clanmates’ minds as clearly as if they had spoken out loud.

Where are you going? Why are you leaving us? Has StarClan promised to bring you back? He longed to reassure them, but telling them he was being sent away by a warrior ancestor they’d never even heard of would only cause them more pain and confusion.

At last Sootpaw stepped forward. “Good-bye, Firestar!” he called.

Slowly the other cats joined in.

“Good-bye!”

“Travel safely!”

“Come back soon!”

Firestar leaped down from the Highrock and wove his way through his Clanmates with Sandstorm at his shoulder.

Cinderpelt was waiting for him beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel. “Good-bye,” she mewed, swiping her tongue over his ear. “May StarClan light your path.”

“And yours,” Firestar replied. A sudden bolt of sorrow choked him and he couldn’t say any more.

Dustpelt came up to Sandstorm, with Sorrelpaw bouncing along behind him. “I’ll take care of your apprentice,” he promised, fixing the lively tortoiseshell with a severe look. “You’ve obviously been far too lenient with her.” Though his words were harsh, there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Sorrelpaw waved her tail, not at all crushed by her new mentor’s words. “I think Sandstorm is a great mentor!”

Taking a last look at his Clan, and the clearing that had been his home for so many seasons, Firestar pushed through the tunnel and out into the ravine. Sandstorm and Graystripe followed him.

The sun had just cleared the tops of the trees, shining from a blue sky with a few puffs of white cloud. A gentle breeze stirred the branches, carrying the scents of prey and green, growing things. Firestar stood still for a moment, feeling it ruffle his fur. He knew that whatever he found on his journey, there could be nowhere as beautiful as this. SkyClan must have been devastated to leave. Two days of rest and good food had restored his energy, and now that he was actually beginning his journey his paws tingled with excitement.

Though his heart was torn about leaving, he wanted to see what lay beyond the forest, and to find the cats who had once been SkyClan.

At the top of the ravine he halted and turned to face his deputy—his best friend, and the cat without whom he would never have been able to lead his Clan. “Will you come to the edge of the forest with us, Graystripe?”

The gray warrior shook his head. “This is your journey, yours and Sandstorm’s. I’ll say good-bye here. Good luck, both of you.”

Sandstorm and Firestar leaned forward to touch noses with their old friend. “I couldn’t leave if I didn’t have you to look after things while I’m gone,” Firestar murmured.

“Every cat knows I can’t fill your pawprints,” Graystripe replied. “But I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll have to take Firestar’s place at Gatherings,” Sandstorm reminded him.

Graystripe nodded. “We mustn’t let ThunderClan seem weak. I’ll tell them you’ve been called away by StarClan, but you’ll be back soon.”

“I hope you’re right,” Firestar meowed softly. “But if I don’t come back—”

“Don’t say that!” Graystripe’s tail lashed. “You will return; I know it in my heart. I’ll wait for you however long it takes.

Whenever you come back, I will be here, just the same.”

“Which way first?” Sandstorm asked.

They had left Graystripe behind and were heading through the forest toward Sunningrocks.

“The SkyClan warrior told me that his Clan fled upstream,” Firestar replied. “I guess that means we should follow the river.”

“How far?”

Firestar felt his neck fur begin to bristle, and he made himself relax until it lay flat. He didn’t have a clue where to find the scattered Clan, or a place where they might live. He was even less sure what he would have to do to bring the Clan together again. He had hoped for more guidance, but his dreams since the night he spent in Smudge’s garden had been dark and empty. Did that mean that the SkyClan ancestor wasn’t watching him any longer? He felt as if he were stepping into a dark, dark night without moon or stars to guide him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I suppose StarClan will show us, or maybe it’ll be obvious.”

Sandstorm’s green eyes glinted, and Firestar braced himself for a scathing comment, but his mate only twitched her whiskers and went on in silence.

From Sunningrocks, Firestar led the way along the RiverClan border until the Twoleg bridge over the river came in sight. Here he paused, tasting the air. The RiverClan scent markers were strong, but there was no fresh scent to suggest that a patrol might be nearby.

“Okay, come on,” he muttered.

He and Sandstorm slipped cautiously down the slope as far as the bridge, dodging between rocks and clumps of gorse to stay out of sight. From there they headed upstream, along the top of the gorge. Firestar half expected to see the leaping forms of SkyClan cats around him, reassuring him that this was the way he should go, but there was no sign of them.

Looking down at the foaming white water, he remembered how Bluestar had hurled herself over, taking with her the leader of the dog pack. Firestar had plunged in to save her; he shivered at the memory of the roar of water in his ears, the weight of his soaking fur, the exhaustion in his legs as he tried to swim with Bluestar’s body gripped in his teeth.

Then he thought of the last time he had seen her, with starshine in her pelt and frosty starlight around her paws. She hadn’t wanted to tell him about SkyClan, and she had done her best to discourage him from going on this journey.

Determination flared in Firestar like a flame in dry grass.

This was his quest, not StarClan’s, and if he had to, he would carry it out without any help from his warrior ancestors.

He felt exposed along the bare edge of the gorge, but he and Sandstorm reached the border between RiverClan and WindClan without being spotted by a patrol. A stiff breeze was blowing from the moorland, flattening the tough grass and making Firestar feel it might blow him off his paws and into the tumbling river below. It brought the strong, fresh scent of WindClan cats with it.

“There could be a patrol about,” Sandstorm mewed.

Firestar tasted the air again; with the wind so strong, it was hard to be sure how far away the cats were.

“We’d better keep going,” he murmured. “Keep a lookout behind.”

“I would if I had eyes in my tail,” Sandstorm retorted.

They headed across the border, but they had hardly set paw in WindClan’s territory when a rabbit streaked across the crest of the moor with a WindClan warrior hard on its paws.

“Get down!” Firestar crouched instinctively, but there was no cover in sight. They stayed unseen only because the hunter was so intent on his prey.

Then he noticed a spot on the edge of the gorge where the ground had crumbled away. “Quick—that way!” he hissed.

Pushing Sandstorm ahead of him, he crept down the cliff face for a tail-length or so, and into the shelter of an overhanging rock. He was pulling his tail into hiding when he heard the rabbit’s shriek abruptly cut off, and another cat call out, “Good catch!”

“That was close!” Sandstorm breathed.

Firestar peered out of his hiding place to see two cats standing on the edge of the cliff, their heads outlined against the sky. He couldn’t make out their features, but he recognized his friend Onewhisker’s voice.

“You know, I swear I can smell ThunderClan scent, but I can’t see any cat.”

“They’d better not set paw here.” The second voice, an aggressive growl, belonged to Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy. “If I catch them, they’ll wish they’d never been kitted.”

“Maybe some cat is going to Highstones,” Onewhisker suggested.

Mudclaw’s reply was an ill-tempered snort. “This isn’t the way to Highstones, mouse-brain.”

Firestar pulled his nose back into cover and pressed himself even closer to Sandstorm.

“You know,” she murmured, “you could just tell them where we’re going.”

Firestar shook his head. He didn’t want the other Clans to know that he had left the forest; they would find out at the next Gathering, and that was soon enough for him.

Gradually the WindClan scent faded and Firestar dared to emerge from their hiding place. Scrambling back up the crumbling stones, he had time to glance down into the gorge and imagine what it would be like to lose his footing and go plummeting down into the turbulent river. Every hair on his pelt was on end by the time he regained the safety of the cliff top.

“Have they gone?” Sandstorm asked from just behind him.

“I think so. Let’s keep going quickly in case they come back.”

Picking up the pace, he bounded along the edge of the gorge with Sandstorm beside him. When he next paused to check for patrols, the ginger she-cat meowed, “You don’t have to be so secretive about this, you know. You didn’t even tell the whole story to your own Clan.”

“The SkyClan cats came to me alone,” Firestar told her.

“There’s no need to tell every cat about them. It’s not as if I’m going to bring SkyClan back to the forest.”

“Then what’s all this about?” Sandstorm demanded, her neck fur beginning to fluff up. “If you don’t plan on bringing SkyClan back, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Firestar replied. “But I know that SkyClan need help that only I can give.”

“And what if that help means sharing ThunderClan territory with them?”

“It won’t. The SkyClan cat said there would be a place for them to live.”

Sandstorm didn’t look reassured. “What if he’s wrong?”

Meeting the challenge in his mate’s green eyes, Firestar realized he couldn’t answer.

The gorge came to an end, and the cliffs sloped down to rejoin the river as shallow, sandy banks once more. Firestar breathed a sigh of relief when they crossed the border scent markings and left WindClan territory behind. Soon after, the moor gave way to farmland, small fields divided by Twoleg paths and hedges; Firestar led the way down a narrow track between a hedge and a field of wheat.

“Smell those mice!” Sandstorm exclaimed. “I’m starving!”

She plunged in among the crackling stems, and, with a quick look around for dogs or Twolegs, Firestar followed. He caught one mouse with a swift blow of his paw as it ran along a furrow, and a second only heartbeats later. Carrying his prey to the edge of the field he found Sandstorm already there, crouching down to eat.

Firestar joined her, water flooding his jaws at the warm scent of food. Neither of them would take prey from another Clan’s territory, so they hadn’t eaten since they left ThunderClan that morning. When the last bite was gone, Firestar swiped his tongue around his jaws and arched his back in a long stretch. “Let’s rest for a bit,” he suggested. “If we wait until sunset, there won’t be so many Twolegs about.”

Sandstorm yawned, murmured agreement, and curled up in a patch of sunlight. Settling down beside her, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his fur and the comfortable fullness of his belly, Firestar tried to imagine how SkyClan had felt when they came this way. They must have been terrified, driven out of their home with no clear idea of where they were going.

And so many cats—a whole Clan!—would be terribly vulnerable to dogs or foxes. He looked around, searching the shadowy places under the hedge for a familiar pale pelt, and strained his ears to catch the sound of the lost Clan’s wailing.

But all he could hear was the rustle of wind in the wheat and birdsong high in the sky. He blinked drowsily, rasped his tongue a few times over Sandstorm’s ear, and slept.

Loud voices broke into his dreams. Not the yowls of the fleeing cats of SkyClan, but real, and closer, and getting even louder. Firestar scrambled to his paws to see Sandstorm standing rigid beside him, her pelt bristling as she stared up the line of the hedge. Coming toward them were two young Twolegs and a brown-and-white dog. The dog ran a little way ahead of its Twolegs, then bounced back to them, letting out a flurry of high-pitched yaps.

“Into the hedge!” Firestar ordered.

Thorns tearing at his pelt, he flattened his belly to the ground and crept into the middle of the hedge. Then he began to claw his way up the trunk of a hawthorn bush, forcing the spiny branches to let him through.

Sandstorm was scrabbling her way up another bush, but the branches crisscrossed so thickly that she came to a stop, unable to go any farther. Her green gaze, full of terror and frustration, met Firestar’s.

The dog was whining alongside the hedge. Firestar caught a glimpse of it trying to thrust its way through a gap, its tongue lolling and its white teeth gleaming.

“It’s found our scent,” Sandstorm whispered.

Firestar searched for a way to reach her and drag her higher, but they were separated by too many prickly branches.

The dog’s forepaws tore at the earth as it tried to force its way through the gap to reach the cats. Its jaws were no more than a tail-length away from Sandstorm’s hind paws.

Then Firestar heard a Twoleg yowling. A Twoleg paw appeared in the gap, grabbed the dog’s collar, and dragged it out again. The dog let out a bark of protest. Firestar waited, hardly daring to breathe, as the sounds died away and the scents of dog and Twolegs gradually faded.

“I think they’ve gone,” he murmured. “Stay there while I check.”

Leaving tufts of his flame-colored fur on the thorns, he crept to the edge of the bushes and looked out warily. The wheatfield was empty, the rays of the setting sun pouring over it like honey.

“It’s okay,” Firestar meowed, glancing back to where Sandstorm still clung to her branch.

He padded a little farther out, taking deep breaths as he tried to control his trembling. It was Sandstorm’s danger, not his own, that had turned his blood to ice. Would it have been easier to have made this journey on his own, with no other cat to worry about? But when Sandstorm joined him, shaken but unhurt, he kept the disloyal thought to himself.

They padded through the night, under the light of the half-moon. This was the best time to travel without being seen, and they kept going until both cats were too weary to take another pawstep. They found a place to sleep in a hollow among the roots of a beech tree.

For the next two days they continued to follow the river through fields of wheat that stretched as far as they could see on either side. On the third day they left the fields and slid through a gap in the hedge onto a stretch of rough grass that sloped gently down to the river. Rushes thickly fringed the bank. Hot gusts of wind rattled them together; as Firestar drew closer he picked up the scents of voles and waterbirds, and heard small creatures rustling among the stems. The sun was going down, turning the river to flame.

Before they had gone far along the bank, Firestar heard the roaring of monsters in the distance. Tasting the air, he picked up a familiar harsh tang. “There’s a Thunderpath up ahead.”

“Then we’ll have to cross it.” Sandstorm’s tail twitched.

“There might not be so many monsters out now.”

Soon Firestar made out a line of trees, black against the scarlet sky. The setting sun glinted on the bright, unnatural colors of swift-pawed monsters. Rounding a bend in the river, he caught sight of a Twoleg bridge made of stone, with monsters hurtling across it.

“The Thunderpath goes over the river. We’ll be safe underneath.” Sandstorm sounded pleased.

But Firestar felt uneasy as they approached the bridge. It cast a dark shadow over the path, and as the daylight died the monsters shot brilliant beams of light from their eyes, sweeping across the riverbank. He froze as one beam picked them out, and heard a gasp from Sandstorm, but the monster snarled and rushed on.

Firestar let out a sigh of relief. “It didn’t spot us.”

“I don’t like this,” Sandstorm meowed. “Let’s get out of here.”

Firestar let her take the lead as they ran under the bridge.

The stones were damp, and water dripped from the arch into the river. From the depths of the shadows Firestar saw the light beams of another monster, approaching fast along the Thunderpath above their heads. Suddenly its roar was all around them, echoing and reechoing from stone and water.

Firestar froze, imagining the creature’s huge jaws parted to swallow them.

Sandstorm let out a panic-stricken yowl. “Run!”

Terror crashed through Firestar; his legs propelled him forward until he was racing along the riverbank. He fled along the edge of the reed beds until the bridge was left far behind and he couldn’t hear the monsters above the rasping of his own breath.

Only exhaustion slowed him down. He stood panting on the bank, his paws stinging and every hair on his pelt bristling. Sandstorm crouched beside him, looking back the way they had come, her tail lashing.

“Are you okay?” she asked when she had caught her breath.

Firestar tried to make his pelt lie flat. “I thought we were crow-food for sure. And I feel I’ve lost every scrap of skin from my pads. I don’t know if we’ll be able to go much farther tonight.”

Sandstorm’s eyes gleamed in the gathering darkness, and she parted her jaws to taste the air. “Wait there,” she instructed, and vanished through the reeds toward the water’s edge.

“What—” Firestar broke off as he realized she had gone.

Collapsing onto one side, he licked his stinging pads until his mate reappeared, carrying a bunch of broad leaves in her jaws.

“Dock,” she announced, dropping the leaves beside

Firestar. “Rub it on your pads. Cinderpelt said there’s nothing better for soreness.”

“Thanks.” Firestar blinked gratefully at her and rubbed his pads against the surface of the leaf. The cool juices soothed the discomfort, and he stretched his jaws in a yawn; it would be good to sleep, but there was still light in the sky, and he knew they should go on for as long as they could.

The river chattered swiftly through the rushes, narrower than where it flowed through the forest. Looking back the way they had come, Firestar saw a single warrior of StarClan shining in the sky. Just below it, hills stood up like jagged teeth, and Firestar realized that he was gazing back at Highstones; that last glimpse of the world he had known made him feel lonelier and more lost than ever.

He shook his head and stood up. “The dock leaves worked fine,” he meowed. “Come on. We’d better try to get a bit farther.”

Sandstorm gave her pads a last rub on the leaves and got up to follow him. Instead of being comforted by her presence, Firestar wondered if she really understood what was driving him to make this journey, and if she was wishing that she had stayed at home in ThunderClan.

The breeze dropped; although the sun had gone, the night was hot and sticky. Clouds gathered in the sky, spreading until they covered the moon and stars.

“I can’t see my paws in front of me,” Firestar muttered. “At this rate, we’ll end up in the river.”

“We’d better stop for the night,” mewed Sandstorm.

Firestar could just make out her pale ginger shape in the gloom, her head raised as she tasted the air. “There’s a strong scent of vole,” she went on. “Suppose I hunt, while you find us a place to sleep.”

“Fine.” Firestar knew his mate was the best hunter in ThunderClan. “Don’t go too far, though.”

“I won’t.” Sandstorm slipped away into the darkness.

More by scent than sight, Firestar located a clump of reeds and circled in the middle of them, trampling them down until he had created a makeshift nest. He sighed as he remembered the comfort of his den under the Highrock.

Before he had finished, Sandstorm reappeared with two voles hanging from her jaws. She dropped them and pushed one over to Firestar. “We won’t starve, at least,” she meowed.

“There’s plenty of prey, and they act like they’ve never seen a cat before.”

So SkyClan doesn’t hunt around here, Firestar thought as he gulped down his vole. There’s still a long way to go.

He curled up, wrapping his tail over his nose, and tried to sleep in the stifling darkness. Though Sandstorm lay close enough for her pelt to touch his, he felt as if she were farther away than the hidden stars.