Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 13

“I’ve never seen him before in my life. What’s he doing here?”

“He’s not moving. Is he dead?”

“No… here, you, wake up!”

The voices pulsed loud and soft in Firestar’s ears. He blinked painfully and saw a blur of black and brown blocking the gap where he had crept into shelter. A paw was fastened in his neck fur, giving him a vigorous shake.

“Wha…? Get off.” Firestar batted feebly at his assailant.

“Keep your claws to yourself,” a voice growled.

Firestar blinked again. Crouched in front of him were two cats: one was a black she-cat, the other a scrawny brown tom with a torn ear.

“You can’t stay there,” the black she-cat meowed. “Twolegs come in and out of here all the time. Move your paws.”

“I’ll move when I’m ready.” Firestar tried to sound defiant, but his mouth was so parched with thirst that he could hardly speak, and his head spun from hunger.

“You’ll move when we tell you,” the scrawny tom snarled.

“Flea-brain!” He gave Firestar a sharp poke in the ribs with one paw.

Firestar was too weak to argue. He dragged himself out from beneath the shiny pelt and staggered to his paws.

“About time.” The she-cat sniffed. “Follow us.”

She set off down a winding path that led between the mounds of Twoleg rubbish. Firestar briefly thought of making a break for freedom, but he had no idea where to go.

Besides, he could barely totter along, and while the she-cat led the way, the brown tom padded along beside Firestar and kept his yellow eyes fixed on him.

Where are they taking me? Firestar wondered.

He thought of Scourge and BloodClan, and wondered if there was another Clan of vicious Twolegplace cats here. If they knew he was from the forest, they might see him as an enemy. Were these cats taking him to be killed?

The black she-cat led him through a gap in the wall.

Firestar emerged into a patch of bare ground where a few stunted trees struggled to survive in the thin soil. He couldn’t see any other cats, but there was powerful cat scent all around him. His fear of finding another BloodClan grew stronger and stronger until it rose in his throat and almost choked him.

“That way.” The brown tom gave him another push, almost carrying Firestar off his paws.

He stumbled forward, slid down a dip in the ground, and came to a halt as his forepaws splashed into the edge of a puddle.

“Keep your paws out of it,” the tomcat growled. “I don’t want to drink it if you’ve been paddling about in it.”

Firestar backed away hastily.

“Go on, then, drink,” the she-cat snapped. “It’s perfectly safe, you know. We’re not trying to poison you!”

Firestar gave her a doubtful glance. These cats had brought him to the water he needed so desperately. Did that mean they wouldn’t kill him after all?

He crouched by the edge of the pool and lapped at the water. He knew it was stale, tainted by Twoleg scents, but right then it tasted more delicious than the clearest stream in the forest.

When he sat up, twitching drops of water off his whiskers, he saw the black she-cat standing beside him with a sparrow in her jaws.

“Here,” she mewed, dropping the fresh-kill at his paws.

Firestar stared at it. These cats were feeding him?

“Honestly,” the she-cat muttered, rolling her eyes as she pushed the sparrow closer to him. “Eat. Haven’t you ever seen prey before?”

“Er… thanks.” Firestar fell on the sparrow, gulping it down in huge bites.

“I can see you haven’t eaten for a long time,” the brown tom remarked. “Have you come far?”

Firestar swallowed a mouthful of sparrow before he replied. “Far enough,” he meowed. He dipped his head and added, “My name is Firestar.”

“I’m Stick, and she’s Cora,” the brown tom told him.

Firestar felt a shiver of hope stir his pelt. Maybe he wasn’t the only wanderer they had rescued. “I’m looking for another ginger cat. Have you seen her?” he asked.

The two rogues exchanged a glance. Firestar felt sick with disappointment as Cora shook her head, shrugging.

“One of the others might have,” Stick added.

“Others? What others?” Firestar demolished the last scrap of prey and heaved himself to his paws. Energy was beginning to trickle back into him now that he had eaten and drunk.

“Are you part of a Clan?”

Cora looked puzzled. “What do you mean, a Clan?”

“Other cats come here,” Stick explained. “Cats like us.”

“Where are they now?” Firestar demanded.

“Dunno,” meowed Stick. He gestured with his tail.

“Around.”

“Can you take me to them?”

“No need,” replied Cora. “They’ll turn up here sooner or later. They always do.”

Firestar glanced around. There were still no other cats in sight, but the strong scent he had picked up at first told him that this must be a meeting place for many cats. The memory of BloodClan made him nervous. Stick and Cora had treated him well up to now, but what about the others? Firestar’s instincts were telling him to run, but he was so desperate to find Sandstorm that he knew he had to stay and ask more questions.

“Could you introduce me to the other cats?” he asked.

Cora twitched her tail. “You’ll be fine without us.”

“We don’t usually hang around with them,” Stick added.

“Please!” Firestar dug his claws hard into the ground. “I need to be sure that the other cats will talk to me. I’ve got to find my friend!”

The cats hesitated, glancing at each other again.

“Who is this cat you’re looking for?” Cora asked. “Why is it so important to find her?”

“Because it’s my fault she’s lost!” Firestar burst out. “We were traveling along the river, and she got washed away in the storm. I’ve looked everywhere for her, but I can’t find her. I can’t go on without her, and I can’t go back home and leave her here.” His claws scraped the dusty ground. “I can’t give up looking for her!”

“Keep your fur on,” Cora meowed. Her voice was still sharp but her eyes were sympathetic. “We’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” Firestar held her gaze, hoping she would understand how much this meant to him.

Stick and Cora padded over to a shady spot under one of the scrubby trees, shared tongues briefly, then curled up for a nap. Firestar stretched, wishing that he could sleep too, but he didn’t want to miss the arrival of the other cats. He couldn’t trust Stick and Cora to wake him because he wasn’t sure that they realized how important it was for him to find

Sandstorm.

He found a sun-warmed patch of earth and settled down for a really thorough grooming. The hairs of his flame-colored pelt were clumped together, with bits of debris from the river matted among them. Even worse, he was covered with smears of disgusting Twoleg stuff from the rubbish heap. If his Clanmates could see him now they would hardly recognize him! Rasping his tongue over his shoulder, he pulled a face at the vile taste, but he kept on until his fur was smooth and glossy again.

Firestar found it harder and harder to keep awake. The sun was going down, casting the long shadows of trees and Twoleg walls across the open space. Suddenly he spotted movement from the corner of his eye; a cat was slinking out from behind one of the trees.

Firestar stiffened, glancing toward Stick and Cora. The black she-cat rose to her paws, arched her back in a long stretch, then padded over to him. “Here they come,” she mewed.

More cats followed the first, emerging from between the trees or through the gap where the rogues and Firestar had entered. Others leaped down from the walls. Firestar watched them greet one another with friendly reserve, just as different Clan cats did at Fourtrees.

Cora waved her tail. “Come on; I’ll introduce you.”

Stick joined them as they headed for the nearest group of cats, three of them, who were sitting by the puddle where Firestar had drunk.

“…and so I said to the rat,” a black tom was meowing, “‘Come one step farther and I’ll rip your pelt off.’”

A brown tabby looked up from the puddle. “What happened then?”

“Its mate jumped him from behind,” the third cat, a beautiful white queen, replied with a mrrow of amusement.

The black tom bared his teeth in a snarl. “So what? I ripped the pelts off both of them.”

“That’s Coal,” Cora murmured in Firestar’s ear. “He’s the biggest boaster around.”

“But his claws are sharp,” Stick added.

The white she-cat yawned. “Who wants to eat rat, anyway?

I had some Twoleg milk.”

“And hedgehogs fly,” Coal snapped.

“I did!” The white she-cat’s eyes stretched wide with indignation. “The bottle was standing on the step, so I tipped it over and all the milk flowed out.” She swiped her tongue around her jaws. “It was delicious.”

“The white cat is Snowy,” Stick told Firestar. “She spends a lot of time around Twolegs. She might have seen your friend there.”

Firestar shook his head. “I doubt it. Sandstorm wouldn’t go near Twolegs if she could help it.”

“Snowy, I saw you near that nest.” The brown tabby got up from the puddle, and Firestar saw that half his tail was missing. “You might not have noticed that they have a new dog there. It chased me off when I was stalking a mouse in their garden. I’d stay well away if I were you.”

Snowy stretched and extended her claws. “I’ve seen the dog—stupid hairy lump. I can deal with it.”

Coal snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

The brown tabby padded over to sit between Coal and Snowy. “Hi, there. I saw a strange cat today,” he began.

Firestar’s ears pricked.

“A couple of Twoleg kits had grabbed her,” the tabby tom went on, flexing his claws. “I soon showed them what’s what.”

Snowy turned toward him with an angry glare. “Shorty!

You didn’t claw young Twolegs, did you?”

“What if I did?” Shorty snapped back. “They deserved it, mauling a cat. But no,” he went on, “I didn’t hurt them. I had my claws sheathed. I just distracted them so the ginger cat could escape.”

“Ginger!” Firestar exclaimed.

Stick’s eyes gleamed. “That could be your friend.”

“Why didn’t you bring her to meet us?” Snowy asked Shorty.

“No time.” The tabby tom’s amber eyes shone with admiration. “She jumped over the fence as if she’d sprouted wings.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat move so fast.”

Firestar touched Stick on the shoulder with his tail. “I’ve got to talk to that cat.”

“Okay,” Stick replied. “Follow me.”

He strolled forward, tail waving, until he came up to the group of three cats. “Hi,” he meowed. “There’s a cat here who wants to meet you.”

All three cats fixed their gaze on Firestar. He dipped his head respectfully. “Greetings. How’s the prey running?”

Coal and Snowy exchanged a glance, as if they thought he’d said something odd. Firestar hoped he hadn’t sounded too weird.

“You’re new around here,” Coal mewed. “Where are you from?”

Firestar didn’t want to tell these cats about the forest.

What if they decided to invade his home, like BloodClan?

“Downstream,” he replied, hoping that was vague enough.

“His name’s Firestar,” Cora added, padding up to his side.

“Firestar, meet Snowy, Coal, and Shorty.”

“Have you come to stay?” Snowy’s brilliant blue gaze was friendly.

“No, I’m just passing through,” Firestar told her. “I was with another cat, but we got separated in the storm.” Eagerly he turned to Shorty. “I heard what you said about the ginger cat. I think it might have been my friend.”

Shorty’s whiskers twitched; he got up and came to sniff Firestar. “Could be,” he meowed. “She had the same sort of scent as you: trees and leaves and river water.”

Firestar took a breath, his heart thudding painfully. “Can you show me where you met her?”

Shorty waved the stump of his tail. “Sure.”

“But not tonight.” Cora thrust her way between Firestar and Shorty. “Look at you,” she added, interrupting Firestar as he tried to protest. “A puff of wind would blow you over. You need a good night’s rest and some more prey before you’re fit to go anywhere.”

Firestar dug his claws into the ground in frustration. I’m a warrior! he thought resentfully. I don’t need to rest. “But Sandstorm might leave,” he meowed. He didn’t voice his other fear, that Shorty might wander off and Firestar would never see him again.

“Your friend won’t go anywhere by night in a strange place,” Cora snapped. “Not unless she’s flea-brained. Shorty, if you take him with you now, I’ll claw off the rest of your tail.”

Shorty shrugged good-humoredly. “I can’t argue with that,” he mewed to Firestar. “Don’t worry; I’ll take you to the place tomorrow.”

Firestar could do nothing but agree. He found a dip in the ground to sleep in, and though he was convinced that worry would keep him awake, he slept almost as soon as he curled up. This time no dreams disturbed him.

He woke the next morning to find himself lying in warm sunlight. Though he hadn’t wanted to delay, he had to admit that he felt much better. Springing to his paws he glanced around, but the only cat he could see was Stick, padding over to him with a mouse dangling from his jaws.

“Here you are,” he meowed, dropping his prey in front of Firestar. “Eat.”

“Where’s Shorty?”

Stick flicked his ears. “Dunno.”

“But he promised to take me to find Sandstorm!”

“Then he will. Keep your fur on; he’ll be back sooner or later.”

Firestar wasn’t sure. Muttering thanks for the fresh-kill, he crouched down to eat, his senses alert for the first sign of the tabby tom’s return. But he was still so weak that exhaustion crept up on him and he slept again.

He woke with a start to see the trees casting long black shadows across the stretch of open ground. Red light washed between them; the sun was sinking again!

Firestar scrambled up, his heart thudding in panic. He spotted Shorty, sitting under the nearest tree, his amber eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Firestar demanded.

“What for?” Shorty twitched his whiskers. “Don’t worry; we’ve got plenty of time.”

Firestar bit back what he would have liked to say. If he offended this cat, he might never find Sandstorm at all.

“Come back here if your friend’s not there,” Cora told him, padding up from behind. “We’ll ask around and see if we can find out anything else.”

“I’ll do that,” mewed Firestar. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” meowed Shorty. “Let’s go.”

The brown tabby leaped over the wall and into another of the confusing passages. Trotting down to the end and around a corner, he squeezed through a gap in a wooden fence.

Firestar followed and found himself behind bushes in another Twoleg garden. Night had fallen; yellow light poured from a single square hole in the wall of the Twoleg nest.

“This was the place,” Shorty murmured. “The young Twolegs live here. They caught your friend by that grass over there.”

He flicked his tail toward a clump of long grass in the middle of the garden. The stems rose for three or four tail-lengths, with plumy tops that glimmered yellow in the strange light. Keeping a cautious eye on the nest, Firestar crept into the open until he reached the clump.

He closed his eyes to concentrate better, and drew in air over his scent glands. The powerful scent of Twoleg flowers almost swamped everything else, but Firestar could distinguish the scent of Twolegs, several different kinds of prey, and… yes! Very faint, and growing stale, but still recognizable.

“Sandstorm!” he breathed. “She was here. She’s alive!”

Thank StarClan! he thought.

Shorty bounded up to him. “Any luck?”

“Yes—yes, it’s her. Which way did she go?”

Shorty pointed the stump of his tail toward the opposite fence. “Over there, into the next garden.”

Firestar raced across the grass to the fence; to his surprise Shorty kept pace with him. “You don’t have to come with me,” Firestar meowed.

Shorty flicked his ears. “That’s okay. I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind. Snowy’s bound to ask me if we found your friend.”

“Thanks,” mewed Firestar. Though he didn’t say so to Shorty, he was surprised that the rogues were being so helpful. He had been too quick to assume they would be his enemies.

The two cats scrambled over the next fence. Firestar thought he caught another trace of Sandstorm’s scent among the clumps of flowers, but the Twoleg scents were very strong here, and there was a powerful aroma of dog. His neck fur lifted when he heard it barking from the nest.

“I’ve lost her trail,” he told Shorty, padding up and down in frustration.

“Let’s follow the fence,” the tabby tom suggested. “We might pick up the spot where she left.”

“Good idea.” Firestar slipped along the bottom of the fence, concealed from the Twoleg nest by thick shrubs, but there were no other signs that Sandstorm had been there, not even the imprint of a paw in the soil. He wished he had Cloudtail with him; the white tom was the best tracker in ThunderClan.

StarClan help me! he prayed, gazing up at the glittering warriors of Silverpelt and wondering if they could see him when he was so far away from the forest.

As he lifted his head, a tuft of fur snagged on the top of the fence caught his eye, and he made out the pale ginger of Sandstorm’s pelt.

He pointed with his tail. “That’s where she crossed the fence. Come on, Shorty!”

But the tabby rogue was looking uneasy, his claws working in the thick leaf mold under the bushes. “There’s a kittypet over there,” he meowed. “She’s a good fighter, and… well, a bit short-tempered.”

Firestar couldn’t believe that any kittypet could fight well enough to give him trouble. “I can handle it,” he promised.

He leaped for the fence, clawed his way to the top, and gave the tuft of fur a quick sniff. Sandstorm’s scent flooded over him. The garden below him was overgrown with shrubs and a wild tangle of Twoleg flowers. Trees spread their branches over it, casting deep shadows. Firestar’s paws tingled. This garden was almost like the forest; it was just the sort of place where his mate might hide.

“Sandstorm!” he called softly. “Sandstorm, are you there?”

There was no reply. Firestar dropped down into the garden and prowled through the undergrowth, his nose filled with the scents of leaves and flowers and other cats. He had lost Sandstorm’s scent again, but he was sure she had to be close by. “Sandstorm!” he called again.

Just behind him a snarl broke the silence. Firestar whirled to see a tortoiseshell kittypet standing a tail-length away. Her back was arched and her teeth bared; her fur bristled, and her quivering tail was fluffed up to twice its size.

“What are you doing in my garden?” she spat.

Firestar gulped; obviously not all kittypets were lazy about defending their territory. “Look, keep your fur on,” he began.

“I’m only—”

He broke off as the tortoiseshell leaped on him, hissing with rage, and bowled him off his paws.

“Shorty!” he yowled.

He battered at the tortoiseshell with his hind paws, but he still didn’t have his full strength, and he couldn’t throw her off. His side stung as she raked her claws down it.

“Trespasser!” she hissed in his ear.

Firestar struggled to bring his head around and sink his teeth into her neck. Then from somewhere close by he heard the furious yowl of another cat. Suddenly the tortoiseshell’s weight vanished. Firestar lay limp on the ground for a couple of heartbeats, thankful that Shorty had come to his rescue.

Then he looked up and scrambled to his paws with a gasp of amazement. The newcomer wasn’t Shorty at all; it was Sandstorm! The ginger she-cat had flung the tortoiseshell to the ground; she jabbed her hind paws into the kittypet’s belly and fastened her teeth into her ear. The kittypet fought furiously for a moment longer, then tore herself away and fled toward the Twoleg nest.

“Sandstorm!” Firestar panted. He stood gazing at his mate; her sides were heaving, and blood welled from scratches on her shoulder.

“Think yourself lucky I turned up in time to save your pelt!” Sandstorm hissed.

“I didn’t ask you to!” Firestar flashed back. “I could have taken care of myself.”

Sandstorm’s lip curled disbelievingly. “Oh, sure.”

Firestar stared at her. This wasn’t how he had imagined his reunion with Sandstorm would be. “Listen—”

“Is everything okay?” Shorty interrupted; Firestar looked up to see his head popping up over the fence. “Hey! You found her!”

“No, I found him,” Sandstorm growled. She sounded as if she wished she hadn’t. “I’m surprised you even bothered to look for me,” she went on to Firestar, her green eyes glittering with hostility. “After all, what’s one Clanmate compared with all the nameless cats who are depending on you who knows where? Why didn’t you go on looking for them, instead?”

Firestar was too worn-out to quarrel with her any more.

Padding over to her, drinking in her warm, familiar scent, he murmured, “I would have searched for you forever. I would never have gone on without you.”

Sandstorm gazed at him for a long moment. “I meant it when I said I wanted to come on this journey,” she mewed.

“But I want to share your mission. I want to understand why you need to help this Clan, and play an equal part in finding them.”

“But StarClan sent the dream only to me—” Firestar began.

“That’s not true,” Sandstorm pointed out. “What about Smudge? This Clan must be desperate for help if they would try talking to a kittypet. Surely two cats are better than one?”

Firestar rested his muzzle against hers. He remembered how he had felt when he thought he had lost her forever.

Now he knew that he could never complete his journey without Sandstorm by his side.

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Shorty meowed from his perch on the fence, “but are you two going to stay down there all night?”

For a heartbeat Firestar met Sandstorm’s green gaze. So much passed between them that could never be put into words. Then he tore himself away.

“Sorry,” he mewed, leaping to the top of the fence to balance beside Shorty. “Can you show us the way out of here?”

“We need to get back to the river,” Sandstorm added as she joined them.

“No problem. Follow me.”

Shorty led them back across the gardens. They crossed a small Thunderpath, quiet but lit by the glare of orange

Twoleg lights, and padded down yet another passage between two Twoleg nests.

“Not far now,” Shorty announced cheerfully.

At the end of the gardens the passage came out into a rough grassy space. Firestar lifted his muzzle as the scent of the river washed over him. He could hear the soft rush of water in the distance.

“Thank you,” he meowed to Shorty. “Thank you for everything. I’d never have found Sandstorm without your help.”

Sandstorm dipped her head. “Thanks for scaring off those Twoleg kits, too.”

The brown tabby gave his chest fur a few licks to hide his embarrassment. “Good luck.” His eyes narrowed. “I reckon you’re up to something where you might need all the luck you can get.”

“You’re right; we do,” Sandstorm agreed.

“I hope we might see you again someday,” Shorty meowed.

“I hope so too,” Firestar replied.

Shorty waved the stump of his tail in farewell. He stood watching at the mouth of the passage while Firestar and Sandstorm padded side by side across the tussocky grass and down to the river.