Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 11

Raucous quacking sounded in Firestar’s ear. He jumped up, staring around wildly until he spotted a duck in the water beside the reed bed. As he watched, it took off, speeding low over the river with whirring wings. At the same moment, Firestar felt the ground begin to shake with the heavy tramp of Twoleg feet.

Sandstorm looked up. “What—”

Firestar slapped the end of his tail over her mouth. “Ssshh!

Twolegs.”

Peering out of the reeds, he saw three male Twolegs walking up the riverbank toward him. All of them carried the long, thin sticks that Twolegs held over the water to catch fish. To his relief there was no sign of a dog.

Firestar stayed very still while the Twolegs passed his hiding place and disappeared downstream. Then he beckoned Sandstorm with his tail. “Let’s get out of here.”

With his mate just behind him he ran lightly along the bank in the shadow of the reeds until the Twoleg scent faded.

Then he paused to catch his breath, anxiously scanning the sky. Thick cloud still covered it, yellowish gray and seeming 1 3 1

low enough to touch the tops of the trees. The air was hotter than the night before, and utterly still.

“There’s a storm coming,” Sandstorm meowed. “It’ll break before nightfall.”

Firestar nodded. “Then we’d better get moving, as fast as we can.”

They set off again, side by side, at a steady, loping pace. In spite of what he said about needing to hurry, when he thought about what might be happening back in the forest Firestar’s courage seemed to be draining out through his paws, and it was hard not to turn around and go racing home to his Clan. What if the badger had come back? How would the other Clans react when they discovered he had gone?

Only a few moons ago, they had all been united against BloodClan. But how long would that alliance survive?

Leopardstar would steal back the Sunningrocks if she thought she could get away with it, while Blackstar would take any opportunity to extend ShadowClan’s territory.

Firestar suddenly felt scared and exposed; he had left the forest and the warrior code far behind him, and he wasn’t sure any longer that he knew why.

He wanted to share his fears with Sandstorm, but every time he glanced at her, padding alongside, her green gaze fixed intently on the path ahead, the words died in his throat.

He didn’t dare ask her if she thought he had made the wrong decision, in case she said yes.

As they continued along the riverbank, the air seemed to grow hotter and more oppressive. Firestar panted with thirst, which the river water quenched for only a few heartbeats.

Sandstorm surprised a vole slipping from a hole in the bank into the water, tossed it into the air, and killed it as it hit the ground again.

“Great catch!” Firestar exclaimed.

Sandstorm’s eyes shone with pride as she dragged the fresh-kill over to him so that they could share it. For a few moments Firestar was warmed by a sense of their old companionship, but he still didn’t feel he could share his worries with his mate.

What if she insisted on going back to the forest?

They had hardly moved off again after eating when Firestar picked up a strong scent of dog from ahead, and heard the sound of Twoleg voices. Sandstorm had heard them too. Flicking her tail to beckon him, she raced away from the river to a clump of elder bushes growing a few fox-lengths farther up the bank. Firestar followed, clawing his way up the trunk and crouching beside Sandstorm on the lowest branch.

Through the leaves he could see a couple of Twolegs walking past, with two dogs bouncing around them. One of them suddenly took off for the trees, barking loudly.

“It’s scented us,” Firestar mewed.

He felt Sandstorm tense; her lips drew back in the beginnings of a snarl and her claws scraped on the branch.

Then one of the Twolegs yowled loudly. The dog skidded to a halt, then turned and trotted back, glancing once or twice over its shoulder as it went.

“Good riddance,” Sandstorm muttered.

Waiting until the Twolegs and their dogs were well away, Firestar looked out from his perch to get a better view of what lay upriver. “Twoleg nests,” he meowed.

Sandstorm gave a disgusted sniff. “I suppose our luck couldn’t last. Wherever there are Twolegs, there’s trouble.”

Firestar could see only the tops of the Twoleg nests from the elder bush, but when he and Sandstorm continued upstream the first one soon came into full view, very close to the edge of the river.

“Look at it!” Sandstorm halted, swishing her tail in disgust.

“It’s swarming with Twolegs.”

Firestar stopped beside her, puzzled. Most Twoleg nests held only a Twoleg and his mate, and maybe their kits. But there were far more than that outside this nest, too many to count. Most of the adults were sitting around, eating Twoleg food, while their kits ran shrieking down to the river to throw stones in the water. Some of the Twolegs yowled at them, but the kits didn’t take any notice.

“Don’t they ever apprentice their young?” Sandstorm asked with a sigh.

“If we stay on the riverbank we’ll have to go right through the middle of them,” Firestar meowed. “We’d be spotted for sure. We’ll have to go around.”

A white wooden fence enclosed the nest and the Twolegs, leading down to the river. Skirting it, Firestar led the way up the bank and around the back of the nest. Close to the nest wall, where he would have expected to find a garden, was a wide space covered with the same hard black stuff as a

Thunderpath. Several monsters were crouching there.

“Are they asleep?” Sandstorm whispered.

As if in answer to her question, one of the monsters broke into a throaty roar and began to creep slowly away from the others and through a gap in the fence onto a small

Thunderpath. Then it leaped forward and dashed away, passing two other monsters on their way in.

Firestar felt his pelt bristle. Crossing a Thunderpath was bad enough, but here he felt as if the crouching monsters were watching him, ready to spring as soon as he ventured onto the hard surface.

Setting down his paws as lightly as if he were stalking a mouse, his belly fur brushing the grass, he crept up to the edge of the Thunderpath. There were shrubs for cover on the other side, but he didn’t dare dart across yet. He could hear the growling of another monster, and a few heartbeats later it sped down the Thunderpath, slowed at the gap in the fence, then went to sleep beside the others near the nest. A couple of Twolegs emerged from its belly.

“Run when I say ‘now,’” he murmured to Sandstorm.

“Get on with it, then,” she replied edgily.

Firestar’s gaze flicked from the nest to the Thunderpath and back again. Everything was still. “Okay, now!”

He sprang forward with Sandstorm beside him. At the same moment, the snarl of a waking monster broke out near the nest. Firestar flung himself forward and hurtled into the bushes, where he squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to stop shaking.

“It spotted us!” Sandstorm gasped, thrusting her way into cover beside him. “But it can’t follow us in here.”

Firestar hoped she was right. When he opened his eyes and peered through the leaves he could make out the monster’s gleaming color as it prowled onto the Thunderpath and paused. Was it trying to scent them? Surely it would be hard for a monster to scent anything except its own harsh reek. All the same, Firestar’s breathing didn’t slow until the monster gave up and went on, its roar dying away into the distance.

“Okay, let’s go,” he mewed. He would have liked to rest for a bit longer, but he hated this weird nest crammed with Twolegs, and their monsters that seemed to have learned how to hunt.

Sandstorm muttered agreement; both cats pushed their way through the shrubs until they reached the river. Firestar’s pelt didn’t lie flat until they had rounded a bend and left the Twoleg nest far behind.

By the time the next Twoleg nest came into sight, Firestar guessed that sunhigh was long past, though there was no sun to be seen. The clouds had darkened and a sharp wind had picked up, bringing the scent of rain. White-flecked ripples appeared on the river; in the distance Firestar heard the rumble of thunder. The storm would break soon.

Sandstorm stopped to taste the air. “Mice!” she exclaimed.

“The scent’s coming from that nest.”

“Are you sure?” Firestar asked.

He broke off at Sandstorm’s scathing look. Without bothering to reply, she stalked toward the nest.

“Hey, wait!” Firestar broke into a run to catch up with her.

“You don’t know what’s in there.”

“I know what isn’t. There’s no Twoleg scent, no dogs.”

Sandstorm sighed. “Do you want fresh-kill, Firestar, or don’t you?”

Firestar had to admit that his belly was yowling with hunger. All day so far they had done nothing but avoid Twolegs. There had been no chance to hunt. “Okay, but…”

Ignoring him, Sandstorm prowled closer to the nest.

Following her, Firestar realized that she was right about the scent: lots of mice, but no trace of Twolegs or dogs. The nest looked abandoned. The door sagged open, and the square holes in the walls were dark and empty. There had been a wooden fence around the garden once, but most of it was broken down and rotting, while the garden itself was overgrown.

Sandstorm crept up to the door and paused to taste the air again before she slipped inside. Firestar followed, the powerful aroma of mouse flooding over him as he entered.

Inside the light was gray and cold, filtering through dusty air. A thick layer of dust and debris covered the floor. On either side, doors to separate dens stood open, while straight ahead an uneven slope led to a higher level. Sandstorm began to climb upward.

“Be careful,” Firestar warned her.

Her tail twitched. “Stay here and keep watch.”

Firestar waited at the bottom of the slope until Sandstorm had vanished. Then, ears pricked for the sound of danger, he padded through the empty dens. Every tiny movement woke an echo; Firestar found himself remembering what it had been like when he lived with his Twolegs, before he had ever set paw in the forest. Their nest had been warm and cozy, the floors covered with thick padding that muffled every sound.

The holes in the walls were filled with shiny stuff like ice, and pelts hung there to be drawn across at night. The Twolegs had slept in a den on the higher level, while he stayed in the… What was the name of the den where they ate food?

Yes—the kitchen.

The unfamiliar word popped into his mind as he stood in the empty nest. The trickle of memory was becoming a flood; Firestar thought of Hattie and Smudge, living happily with their housefolk. Would he have been as happy if he had stayed, if he had never known the excitement of stalking prey in the rustling shadow of leaves, never curled up in the warriors’ den beside his Clanmates, never fought for his Clan or shouldered the burden of being their leader?

No. Even in the Twoleg nest, he had walked the forest in his dreams. When he joined ThunderClan he knew that he had found the place where he belonged. But if ThunderClan meant so much to him, why had he left to help a Clan who had been driven from the forest so long ago that no Clan remembered them? Was it enough that he felt he was doing the right thing?

He started at the sound of a pawstep behind him and spun around to see Sandstorm padding into the kitchen with the limp body of a mouse in her jaws.

“You look as if you’ve got a lot on your mind,” she meowed, dropping the fresh-kill. “What’s the problem?”

Firestar shook his head. “Nothing important.”

Sandstorm held his gaze for a heartbeat as if she didn’t believe him, but she said nothing more.

Crouching side by side, they shared the mouse. Outside the wind had grown stronger, buffeting the nest and hurling sharp rain at the walls and through the holes to spatter in the dust on the floor.

“Maybe we should stay here overnight,” Sandstorm suggested.

Firestar knew she was right. They could catch more prey and sleep full-fed until the storm was over. But the walls of the Twoleg nest seemed to be closing in on him. He couldn’t bear to be inside any longer, struggling with old memories.

He wasn’t a kittypet anymore, and this wasn’t where he belonged!

“No,” he mewed. “It’s not dark yet. We can’t waste the rest of the day.”

Sandstorm opened her jaws to argue, but something in Firestar’s face must have stopped her, because she followed him without protest as he led the way out of the nest.

The wind battered Firestar as soon as he emerged. Rain slapped him in the face and soaked his fur within heartbeats.

He knew it would be more sensible to go back, but pride wouldn’t let him change his mind. Lowering his head, he fought his way into the wind and down to the riverbank.

The river had changed since he and Sandstorm had left it to enter the nest. The water level had risen much higher, churning with muddy brown waves that slopped against the top of the bank. Wind lashed the reeds, blowing them nearly flat; the stems whipped the cats’ fur with stinging blows as they battled through the gloom. The waning moon showed fitfully among the clouds, its faint light useless to guide their pawsteps.

Firestar heard an angry hiss from Sandstorm, and knew she thought they should find shelter, but he also knew that she was too stubborn to ask twice. He was desperate to keep going, whatever the weather, to find SkyClan and reassure himself that he had been right to leave the forest.

Soon the river rose higher still, washing through the reeds and around the cats’ paws. On the side away from the river they were hemmed in by bushes, the thorny branches growing too thickly for them to force a way through. Lightning stabbed down from the sky, followed almost at once by a crack of thunder right overhead, as loud as if the sky were splitting into fragments. The cold light turned the driving rain to silver and shone blackly on Firestar’s and Sandstorm’s drenched pelts, plastered against their bodies.

At the next flash Firestar looked up and thought he caught a glimpse of the SkyClan cat’s face in the rolling purple clouds. Before he could be sure, the face changed to Bluestar’s. Firestar thought she was gazing down at him with a pleading expression, as if she was terrified for her former Clanmates and wanted them to turn back. Firestar wanted to yowl a question to her, but at that moment lightning split the sky again and the face vanished.

We can’t turn back, Firestar told himself. Not now that we’ve come so far.

He splashed on, head down and tail drooping under the driving rain. Suddenly a surge of water washed over the path.

Firestar was swept off his paws. He opened his jaws to yowl a warning to Sandstorm and gulped in icy water as his head went under.

Paws working frantically, he struggled upward. At first when his head broke the surface he couldn’t see anything but tossing waves. Then he caught a glimpse of the bushes on the bank and swam toward them. The cold made his legs feel stiff, and his sodden fur dragged at him. The surge began to recede, carrying him away from the bushes again. Firestar swam even more desperately, terrified of being swept out into the churning river.

Then his paws touched the ground. He dug in his claws and managed to cling on as the wave gurgled past him, leaving him in water that washed against his belly fur. Shaking with cold and terror, he looked back. “Sandstorm!” he yowled.

There was no reply, and at first Firestar couldn’t see his mate. Then he spotted her, clinging with teeth and claws to a jutting root a few tail-lengths downstream. As Firestar waded back to her she scrambled to her paws and spat out river water.

“Are you okay?” Firestar panted.

“What does it look like?” Sandstorm hissed, lashing her tail. “We could have been washed away. Why can’t you listen to me for once, instead of being so stubborn?”

Guilt washed over Firestar like another wave. Sandstorm was right; if they had stayed in the shelter of the abandoned nest they would have been warm and safe now.

“I’m sorry—”

“‘Sorry’ catches no prey!” Sandstorm snapped back at him.

“Admit it, Firestar; you don’t really want me here at all.”

“That’s not true!” Firestar protested.

“I don’t believe you!” Sandstorm glared at him, then added more softly, “I know you love me, Firestar, but is that enough?

Don’t you wish Spottedleaf were with you right now?”

The question took Firestar by surprise. What would it be like to have the StarClan medicine cat by his side? Would she be able to convince him that he was doing the right thing?

As he hesitated, the anger faded from Sandstorm’s gaze, replaced by a look of horror. “Don’t say a word, Firestar,” she mewed. “I know what your answer would be.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

Not listening to him, Sandstorm spun around and dashed off, back the way they had come, her paws splashing along the flooded path.

“Sandstorm, wait!” Firestar yowled. He forced himself to bound through the water until he caught up with the fleeing she-cat. “You’ve got to listen to me.”

Sandstorm rounded on him. “I don’t want to listen!” she hissed. “I’m going home. I know you don’t want me. You’ve never wanted me as much as you want Spottedleaf.”

“It’s different; that’s all!” Firestar protested. “You can’t ask me to choose between you. You’re both important, and I—”

Lightning crackled across the sky again, clawing at a beech tree on top of the bank. Thunder rolled out, and a deep groaning sound answered from the tree. The top began to tilt, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as the tree fell across the river, the highest branches crashing down on the opposite bank. Firestar and Sandstorm leaped back as sharp, whipping twigs lashed the path where they had been standing.

The two cats crouched on the flooded path until the noise died away. As the fallen tree rustled into silence, Firestar rose cautiously to his paws. “Wait for me here,” he mewed. “I’ll check out the other bank. It doesn’t look so wet over there.”

For a moment Sandstorm stared at him in silence. Her gaze was cold, as if she wasn’t in the mood to obey his order.

Firestar wondered what he would do if she insisted on leaving. Then she nodded abruptly. “Okay.”

The falling tree seemed to have ended their quarrel—for now. Firestar breathed silent thanks to StarClan as he clambered onto the tree trunk, trying to sink his claws into the smooth gray bark.

The first few paces were easy, but as the trunk grew narrower it began to bounce under Firestar’s weight. Once he reached the branches he had to climb over them. He dug in his claws even harder, terrified that he would slip into the churning current. He flinched as water splashed up between the branches, and felt the surging black river swirl around his hind legs. He clawed his way to safety, half-blinded by bunches of leaves. Twigs scraped his face and snagged in his fur. For a heartbeat he froze as the trunk shifted under his paws; the whole tree was threatening to roll over and pitch him into the water. Bunching his muscles, he sprang forward, pushing his way through the slender upper branches, and landed safely on the far side.

The bank was higher here, with water sucking a couple of mouse-lengths below the top. Trees spread their branches over it, giving some shelter from the driving rain. Firestar drew a few panting breaths, then turned back toward Sandstorm, still waiting on the opposite bank.

“It’s okay!” he called. “You can—”

A rumbling sound interrupted him. At first he thought it was thunder, but it grew louder and louder. Sandstorm was staring upstream, her eyes stretched wide with horror.

Firestar whipped around. A huge wave was bearing down on them, brown and topped with foam, bearing sticks and debris along with it, roaring louder than any monster.

Firestar let out a screech of shock. Dashing to the nearest tree, he leaped up and sank his claws into the trunk. Then the wave was upon him. It surged past, swirling over the tree trunk less than a tail-length below him. Spray spattered his fur. Firestar clung there until the wave had passed. When he climbed down he stared in horror at the river. The fallen tree had been swept away.

How will Sandstorm cross now?

As he looked across to the opposite bank a cold claw sank into his heart. Sandstorm was gone.