Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 23

“Cats who live in a Clan send out hunting patrols several times a day,” Firestar explained, pausing at the end of the line of Twoleg fences. “And we patrol the borders twice, once at dawn and once at sunset.”

“So are we the dawn patrol?” Boris asked.

“Mouse-brain!” His sister Cherry swiped at him with one paw. “SkyClan doesn’t have borders yet. We’re hunters, aren’t we, Firestar?”

“That’s right,” Firestar meowed. “We’ll have borders soon, when I know the territory a bit better, and see how many cats are going to be living here. Meanwhile, this is SkyClan’s first proper hunting patrol.”

Cherry gave a happy little bounce. “Great! We haven’t caught much, though,” she added, sounding disappointed. “I can’t seem to pick up any scent at all.”

“That’s because it’s wet,” Firestar told her. “Even experienced hunters find it hard.”

Fog filled the gorge and stretched over the scrubland on the cliff top as far as the Twolegplace. The rising sun shone through it with a milky light. Every grass stem was bent with the weight of water droplets, and dew misted on the cats’ fur.

“But that’s no excuse for taking risks.” Scratch looked up from where he was digging up some fresh-kill they had buried earlier. “I couldn’t believe you two. You leaped straight into that garden without looking.”

“Sorry,” Cherry muttered, while Boris scrabbled his forepaws on the ground in front of him.

“‘Sorry’ is all very well,” snapped the rogue. “You nearly landed right on top of that dog. If Firestar hadn’t distracted it, you would be dog food by now. And you lost the squirrel you were chasing.”

Boris sighed. “It was lovely and fat.”

Scratch rolled his eyes and went back to scraping away the earth over their prey.

Firestar gave him a quick glance. It was four days since Scratch and Clover had come to live in the caves, and Scratch’s hunting skills were already proving useful, but he had no patience with the two kittypets.

“They’ll learn,” Firestar meowed, and added to Cherry and Boris, “You’re coming along really well.”

“Can we come and live in the camp all the time?” Cherry begged.

“Not yet.” Firestar was relieved the young cat was so keen to join the Clan, but he wondered if she realized what a huge decision she was making. “What about leaving your housefolk?”

Cherry’s tail drooped and her eyes grew more thoughtful.

“I like sitting on a lap and being stroked, and I like playing with our housefolk and making them laugh… but I like hunting too. I wish we could have both.”

“Well, we can’t,” mewed Boris. “I worry about our housefolk missing us, too. If we could just tell them that we’ll be okay…” He took a deep breath. “But if we are really descendants of the first SkyClan, we belong in the gorge.”

Firestar blinked at him. “I think you need to take your time before you make the final decision.” Scratch had been right to scold them for dashing into the garden, even though he could have been more tactful. The kittypets’ biggest fault was charging blindly into things. But at least it showed they had courage, a valuable quality in a warrior.

“How much longer?” Cherry demanded. “Can we be apprentices soon?”

Before Firestar could reply, Scratch looked up. “Are we just going to stand around here? I want to be back in the gorge before the mist clears. I’ve never had anything to do with Twolegs, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Good thinking,” Firestar meowed. Already the Twoleg nests were standing out more clearly against the dawn sky, and he could hear a monster waking up in the distance.

“Bring your prey, and let’s go.”

As he led the way across the scrubland, his jaws full of fresh-kill and his ears pricked for any sound of danger, optimism swept over him. He was leading a patrol, taking prey back to a camp. For the first time since he left the forest, he felt as if he were really part of a Clan.

By the time they returned to the warriors’ cave, the sun had burned off most of the mist. Even though the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, the gorge was still bathed in the heat of greenleaf.

Sandstorm was climbing the trail from the gorge. Her green eyes were sparking with annoyance, and the tip of her tail flicked.

“What’s the matter?” Firestar asked, setting down his fresh-kill at the cave entrance.

Sandstorm beckoned with her tail, so he took a few pawsteps down the path to meet her, away from Scratch and the kittypets.

“It’s Clover,” she murmured when he was close enough to hear. “I’ve been trying to teach her some fighting skills. She’s a strong, healthy cat—she shouldn’t have any problem—but can I make her see why she has to learn? ‘Oh, you and Firestar are such good fighters I know you’ll look after us all.’”

Sandstorm let out a sigh. “She’s keen enough to join SkyClan, but just for protection. She’s not interested in the warrior code, or what she might do for other cats.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “That could be difficult for her to learn right now,” he mewed. “It’s natural for a queen to put her kits’ safety first. And she must be pretty tired, raising those three lively youngsters.”

“But at least she could try,” Sandstorm pointed out. She glanced down into the gorge where Clover was basking on a rock by the side of the pool, with her kits frisking around her.

“Bounce and Rock and Tiny were trying to copy what I was showing their mother. Honestly, I think they learned more than she did!”

Firestar pressed his muzzle against hers. “It’ll work out.

She couldn’t have a better teacher.”

Sandstorm gave him a sidelong glance, and seemed to relax. “Let’s go down to the river,” she mewed. “My paws could do with bathing.”

Firestar’s paws felt sore, too, and as he followed Sandstorm down the stony trail he longed to feel the cool, damp earth of the forest under his pads. A few fox-lengths upstream he could hear the excited squeals of Clover’s litter.

“You know, those kits are almost ready to be apprenticed,” he remarked as they stood in the shallows.

“They must be nearly six moons old,” Sandstorm agreed, blinking against the sunlit dazzle on the water. “But we can’t apprentice them until we find a few more mentors.”

“I’ll ask Scratch and Clover if they know of any more cats,” Firestar meowed.

He broke off at the sound of voices calling his name from somewhere up above. Cherry and Boris were charging down the rock face, springing gracefully down sheer stretches of rock where Firestar and Sandstorm had to pick their way more cautiously.

“Firestar!” Cherry panted as she sprang to the ground and pelted along the bank toward him. “We had an idea!”

“You mean I had an idea,” Boris mewed, bouncing up to stand beside his sister.

Cherry tried to shoulder him into the water, but Boris ducked away and swiped one paw over her ear. Cherry pounced on him, and the two kittypets wrestled at the very edge of the river.

“When you’ve quite finished,” Sandstorm interrupted, “maybe you’ll tell us what your idea is.”

The two young cats straightened up, looking embarrassed.

“I guess apprentices don’t do that,” Cherry muttered.

Apprentices do that all the time, Firestar thought. “I’m listening,” he meowed.

“I thought you should have a meeting,” Boris explained, his fur fluffed up with enthusiasm. “We can tell all the cats who live near here to come, so you can tell them about the new Clan.”

“But we don’t know any other cats,” Firestar pointed out.

“No, hang on,” Sandstorm meowed, before Boris could reply. “I think it’s a good idea. After all, we’re looking for cats who can live together and cooperate with one another, so if they turn up to a meeting they’ve already passed the first test.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Firestar waded out of the river, shook each paw in turn, and sat down on a sun-warmed rock.

“Right, go on. Where do we find these cats?”

“We find them.” Cherry’s green eyes sparkled. “We can pass the message on to all the other kittypets. We’ll go now if you like.”

“They’ll all be outside on a day like this,” Boris added.

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm. “Okay,” he decided. “We’ll give it a try—but if we expect these cats to come to a meeting they deserve to see who’ll be talking to them. I’m coming with you.”

Firestar peered down through a rustling screen of leaves into the Twoleg garden. He couldn’t see much except for a stretch of grass and a few clumps of bright Twoleg flowers, but there was a strong scent of cat.

Cherry and Boris were crouched on the branch below him.

“Hey, Oscar!” Cherry called. “Come up here! We want to talk to you.”

A moment later Firestar spotted a muscular black tomcat racing across the grass. He launched himself into the tree with a magnificent leap. SkyClan blood, Firestar thought as the newcomer balanced on the branch beside Boris and Cherry.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His whiskers twitched as he looked up at Firestar. “Who’s he?”

Firestar took a deep breath. “My name’s Firestar,” he meowed, deciding not to confuse the black cat with details about the forest and ThunderClan. That wasn’t important now. “Have you ever heard of SkyClan? The cats who used to live in the gorge by the river?”

Oscar swished his tail. “Nope. Never heard of them.”

Cherry and Boris exchanged a glance; Cherry opened her jaws to reply, but Firestar silenced her with a flick of his ears.

“But they’ve heard about you,” Firestar went on, “and there are things you need to know about them. We’re holding a meeting tomorrow night in the gorge, by the rocks where the river flows out. Will you come?”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed to brilliant green slits. He raised one paw and slid the claws out, contemplating them coolly.

“Might. Might not.”

Firestar bit back his frustration. He guessed Oscar was a bit of a show-off, but at the same time this was a strong cat who would be a useful Clan member. “You see, I’m trying to rebuild SkyClan, and I’m looking for any cats who might be interested in joining.”

Oscar stretched his jaws wide in a yawn. “Why would I want to do that?” Not waiting for an answer, he jumped down from the tree and disappeared.

“Come anyway! See what you think!” Firestar called after him.

Cherry’s neck fur bristled. “We should have known better than to ask him!” she mewed. “He’s a real pain in the tail.”

“Never mind,” Firestar replied. “We have to ask as many cats as we can.”

“Let’s get on, then.” Boris sprang impatiently to his paws.

“I think we should talk to Hutch next.”

“Yes, let’s.” Cherry’s eyes gleamed and she swiped her tongue over her whiskers. “His Twolegs give him cream!”

The two kittypets led Firestar along the fence of Oscar’s garden and down into a narrow alley. Firestar’s fur prickled as he remembered being lost in the other Twolegplace while he was looking for Sandstorm, but his two guides trotted ahead confidently.

Before they had gone far, another cat appeared around the corner and halted with its pelt bristling, then relaxed as Boris and Cherry drew closer.

“Hi, Bella,” Cherry greeted her. “Come and meet our new friend.”

Firestar padded up to Bella, a pretty tabby-and-white she-cat with warm amber eyes. He was reminded of his sister Princess, who lived in the Twolegplace that bordered the forest. This cat didn’t look as if she had SkyClan ancestry; she didn’t have the same powerful haunches as Boris and Cherry, and when she raised her paw to dab at a piece of dust on her nose, her pads were soft and pink.

“Hello.” Bella dipped her head politely. “You’re new around here. Where do your housefolk live?”

“Firestar doesn’t have housefolk,” Boris informed her.

“He’s a Clan cat.”

Bella’s eyes stretched wide with curiosity, changing to wonder as Firestar briefly told his story.

“You’ll come to the meeting, won’t you?” Cherry prompted when he had finished. “It’ll be great, living in a Clan! I’ll show you how to catch mice.”

Bella shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly do that. I would miss my housefolk far too much, and they would miss me.”

“But—” Boris began.

“No,” Bella repeated more firmly. “The other night I got shut in the neighbor’s shed, and when I got back my housefolk’s kits were wailing. I can’t bear to think of them upset like that again.” She pressed her muzzle affectionately against Cherry’s. “But I hope you enjoy living in this new Clan, if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, Bella.” Cherry looked unusually serious. “We’ll come and visit you sometimes; I promise.” She watched as the she-cat trotted away down the alley. “I’ll miss her,” she muttered. “She’s a good friend.”

Boris gave her ear a quick lick. “Come on; let’s go and find Hutch.”

At the other end of the alley Cherry and Boris paused beside another fence. One of the wooden strips was broken at the bottom, leaving a space just wide enough for a cat to squeeze in.

“We’ve got to be careful,” Boris warned. “Hutch’s Twolegs have a dog as well. It should be shut up, but keep your eyes open.”

Cherry had already pushed her way through the gap.

Firestar followed warily, while Boris brought up the rear.

On the other side of the fence, Firestar found himself in a thicket of strong-smelling bushes. Beyond it a stretch of grass led up to a path made of sharp little stones running around the Twoleg nest.

“Hey, Hutch!” Boris yowled. “Are you in there?”

Firestar stiffened as a flurry of barking came from the nest, but no dog appeared. Instead, a tiny door swung open in the big Twoleg door, and a dark tabby cat poked its head out.

Spotting Cherry and Boris, he slid out the rest of the way, bounded across the stony path without flinching, and raced over the grass to meet them in the shadow of the bushes. He was not as powerfully built as Oscar, but he looked strong, and Firestar had noticed when he crossed the path that he had the hard pads that were a mark of SkyClan. He smelled strongly of kittypet food.

“Hi,” he meowed with a friendly flick of his ears to Firestar. “My name’s Hutch; what’s yours?”

Once again Firestar introduced himself and told the story of SkyClan. “The SkyClan cats could live in the gorge because they had strong back legs for jumping, and hard pads for walking over rock. Just like Cherry and Boris.” He felt a stirring of relief when Hutch raised one of his own paws to examine his pads. “We’re holding a meeting to talk about it.”

Hutch looked intrigued. “I’ve heard about cats living wild in the gorge,” he told Firestar. “My mother used to tell me, but I thought they were just stories for kits.”

“No, it’s all true,” Boris mewed, and Cherry added enthusiastically, “We’re going to be SkyClan apprentices!”

“So you’ll come to the meeting?” Firestar asked.

“Tomorrow night, in the gorge where the river flows out.”

“Sure,” Hutch replied.

Firestar dipped his head. “Then we’ll see you there.”

Hutch flicked his tail in farewell and turned to go, then glanced back. “Are you hungry?”

Cherry’s ears pricked. “Cream?” she mewed hopefully, swiping her tongue around her jaws.

“A whole bowlful.”

“Hang on,” Firestar meowed, before Cherry or Boris could move. “You can be a SkyClan apprentice, or you can go into Twoleg nests and eat cream. Not both.”

“But we’re not apprentices yet,” Cherry retorted pertly.

Part of Firestar was amused, but he knew that if he gave his permission now the two young kittypets might never really appreciate what it meant to join a Clan. If they weren’t ready to give up Twoleg comforts, they weren’t ready to live the life of a warrior.

“SkyClan or cream,” he meowed. “You choose.”

Cherry and Boris exchanged a glance, and Cherry let out a disappointed sigh.

“It’s got to be SkyClan,” she replied.

“Fresh-kill tastes better anyway,” Boris mewed. “Come on; we’ve got lots more cats to see.”

They plunged back into the bushes toward the fence.

Firestar waited to say good-bye to Hutch, and saw his own amusement reflected in the dark tabby’s eyes. Suddenly he felt encouraged. This was a cat he could work with.

Cherry and Boris led the way back into the alley and around a corner to the edge of a small Thunderpath. Firestar paused by the fence, his neck fur bristling at the reek of monsters. One of them was crouched a few fox-lengths away, but it seemed to be asleep.

“It’s okay,” Boris meowed, strolling nonchalantly up to the edge of the Thunderpath. “It’s pretty quiet at this time of day.”

Cherry bounced up to join him; Firestar admitted to himself that he was impressed. These two kittypets had a lot to learn about Clan life and the warrior code, but here they were confident and focused, and they seemed to know every pawstep of the Twolegplace.

Trying not to show his uneasiness, he padded across to join them, glancing both ways along the Thunderpath. No monsters were in sight, and he couldn’t hear any approaching.

“Come on!” Cherry urged.

Firestar signaled with his tail, though he wasn’t sure that the two young cats were waiting for his order. “Okay, let’s go.”

All three cats darted across; Cherry and Boris swarmed up the nearest fence and balanced on the top, waiting for Firestar.

“We can go along this fence,” Boris explained. “We’ll pass two or three gardens where cats live. Watch out for this next one, though. The Twolegs here have a dog.”

“Noisy little brute.” Cherry sniffed. “It’ll probably come out, barking its stupid head off.”

She was right. As soon as Boris set paw on the next section of fence, a small white dog shot out of the Twoleg nest, yapping furiously. It sprang up at the fence, and Firestar dug his claws hard into the wood as it shook.

“Get lost, flea-pelt,” Cherry spat. “Go and drool over your Twolegs. Don’t worry,” she added kindly to Firestar. “The idiot can’t climb.”

Firestar felt as if he were the apprentice and the two kittypets were his mentors. “I’m fine with dogs, thanks,” he meowed.

The dog went on barking as the three cats continued along the fence top. Firestar hid his relief as the noise died away behind them.

Eventually Boris paused and looked down over a bigger garden than most of them, with a wide expanse of smooth grass bordered by masses of bright flowers. Firestar picked up a strong scent of cat.

Cherry lifted her tail to point. “Over there.”

She was pointing at some wooden Twoleg thing standing at the edge of the grass in front of the flowers. Lying on top of it was a shapeless heap of cream-and-brown fur.

Cherry jumped down from the fence, landing in a clump of flowers; Firestar and Boris followed and skirted the edge of the flower border until they reached the wooden Twoleg thing.

Two identical heads rose from the heap of fur. Firestar’s ears pricked with curiosity. He had never seen cats like these before. Their slender bodies were cream-colored, but their legs, tails, ears, and muzzles were brown, and they had the most brilliant blue eyes he had ever seen.

One of them let out a weird high-pitched yowl. “Hi, Cherry. Hi, Boris.”

“What do you want?” the other asked, in the same strange voice.

“We’ve brought Firestar to meet you,” Boris meowed.

“This is Rose and this is Lily,” he added to Firestar, flicking his tail at each cat in turn.

“Greetings,” Firestar began. He felt oddly hesitant; these cats couldn’t possibly be SkyClan descendants. “I’ve come to tell you about the cats who used to live in the gorge…”

The two cats listened to him in silence, their vivid eyes fixed disconcertingly on him. When he had finished, they turned the same intense stare on each other.

“What do you think of that?” Rose asked.

“Amazing!” Lily replied.

“You will come to the meeting, won’t you?” Cherry urged them. “It’s going to be really great!”

“What, us?” Rose’s eyes opened wide. “You’re joking, of course.”

“Us live in a cave? With no warm blanket?” Lily added. “No creamed chicken?”

“To chase mice and kill them?” Rose’s tongue rasped delicately over one brown paw. “How vulgar!”

Moving as one, the two cats rested their heads on their paws again and closed their eyes.

Cherry exchanged a glance with Boris, who gave a tiny shrug. “Sorry,” she mewed to Firestar. “It was worth a try.”

“Don’t worry,” Firestar told him. He couldn’t imagine these cats ever adjusting to the life of a Clan, but in case they were still listening he kept his thoughts to himself.

Leaping back onto the fence, he was startled to see that the sun was starting to go down. They had spent most of the day in the Twolegplace and now he was ravenous. At the same moment he heard a distant yowling from a Twoleg several gardens away.

“That’s one of our housefolk,” Boris told him. “We’d better be going.” Sadly, he added, “We’ll miss them, you know.”

“That’s not wrong, is it?” Cherry asked anxiously.

“No,” Firestar replied, remembering his own pangs of homesickness. “It’s not wrong. But you have to choose.”

“We’ve chosen,” Boris meowed determinedly, while

Cherry whisked her tail and added, “Come on, Firestar! We’ll show you the best way out of here.”

Padding back across the scrubland on his own, Firestar spotted movement underneath a thornbush. Cautiously he drew nearer, and recognized the brown rogue who had frightened off the sparrow when he first arrived in the gorge.

The cat was crouched over a piece of fresh-kill, and looked up suspiciously as Firestar approached.

“Hi.” Firestar tried to sound friendly. “Have you heard about the Clan of cats who used to live in the gorge?”

The brown rogue gave a noncommittal grunt and went on eating. Firestar couldn’t be sure he was even listening as he told him about SkyClan and the meeting planned for the following night.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Will you come?”

The rogue swallowed the last mouthful of fresh-kill and cleaned his muzzle with one paw. “I’m fine on my own.” His eyes narrowed. “And I don’t want you ordering me around.”

“It’s not like that—” Firestar protested, but the rogue stalked off without letting him explain. Guilt gnawed at Firestar as he headed back to the gorge. Maybe if he hadn’t been so hostile when they first met, he could have persuaded the brown rogue to give SkyClan a chance.

Finding the trail leading down the cliff face, he padded wearily along it to the warriors’ cave. Faint squeals of excitement rose from the bottom of the gorge; Firestar peered down to spot Sandstorm and Clover’s three kits batting something around at the water’s edge. Warmth flooded through him when he saw how happy and relaxed his mate looked as she played with the kits, happier than she had been since they left the forest.

“Hi, Firestar.” Scratch’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Sandstorm says you’re organizing a meeting to tell more cats about the new Clan. I could take you to some other rogues, if you like. They’ll probably come if I ask them.”

Firestar was glad Scratch was becoming more committed to SkyClan, but not sure he liked the tabby tom’s cool assumption of authority over the other rogues. Still, if they respected him, that would make Firestar’s task easier overall.

“Okay, thanks,” he meowed.

“Let’s go then.” Scratch emerged from the warriors’ den and set off down the trail.

What, now? Firestar wailed inwardly. I haven’t eaten all day!

Sighing, he followed Scratch down the cliff face and caught up with him as he was speaking to Sandstorm. “I’m going to introduce Firestar to a few rogues,” he was telling her.

“Great.” Sandstorm ducked her head as Rock sprang onto her back. “Get off!” she mewed, rolling over and padding gently at him with one paw, her claws sheathed. Rock just squeaked happily, and Sandstorm disappeared under a mound of fur as Bounce and Tiny jumped on her too.

“You’re obviously busy,” Firestar murmured, amused. “I’ll see you later.”

Scratch and Firestar padded side by side across the rocky spur to the trees and undergrowth downstream. Firestar hadn’t visited this part of the territory since his meeting with Cherry and Boris, and his pelt prickled at the memory of being watched. Then he drew to a halt, his heart beginning to thump. This wasn’t just memory! The same sensations poured over him, and icy fear trickled through him from ears to tail tip.

“What’s the matter?” Scratch, some way ahead, glanced over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” Firestar’s voice shook, and he forced it to be steady. “I just thought we might stop and hunt. I haven’t had so much as the sniff of a mouse since this morning.”

“Okay.” Scratch retraced his steps and stood tasting the air.

“Do you smell anything… odd?” Firestar asked. He had picked up the same prey scent as before, masked by the sharp aroma of crushed leaves.

Scratch paused, drew in more air, then shrugged. “Prey.

Grass and leaves. Why?”

“Nothing.” Firestar wanted Scratch to respect him, not think he was a coward looking for danger under every bush.

“Let’s hunt.”

Scratch stalked away into the bushes, and Firestar padded off in another direction. While he tried to find prey, his senses stayed alert for whatever hostile creature was watching him.

Is it something to do with why SkyClan left the gorge? he wondered.

Sky had been reluctant to answer any questions, but Firestar was certain that the old cat knew more than he was telling. I’ll have to question him again, he decided. The future of the new Clan might be at risk if Sky insisted on keeping secrets about possible danger.

Firestar stood in the shadows under a thornbush, looking out across a clear space in the midst of the undergrowth.

Nothing stirred among the ferns and grasses.

“Who are you?” he whispered. “What do you want?”

There was no reply, only vicious hatred hurled at him with such force that it almost carried him off his paws. In the twilight he thought he could make out dark, glinting eyes. His pelt crawled.

A rustling in a nearby bush made him jump, but it was only a vole, dashing out into the open space. Firestar leaped after it and snapped its neck. As he picked it up the scent masked everything else, and the sense of a hostile presence around him faded a little. Still, he pushed his way to the edge of the thicket and out into the open by the river before he crouched to eat his fresh-kill.

Scratch was sitting a few tail-lengths farther downstream, cleaning his face and whiskers. “Are you ready?” he asked, drawing his paw over one ear. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Firestar gulped down the rest of the vole. “Okay, lead on.”

The tabby rogue bounded alongside the river until he reached the fallen tree that Sky had used to cross a few days before. Leading Firestar over to the far bank, Scratch started to climb another trail that led up the cliff face on the opposite side. Firestar panted after him, wishing he had the rogue’s powerful haunches. Scratch was a true SkyClan cat!

Firestar had never climbed the cliff on this side of the river before. At the top there was a wide stretch of grass that gave way to undergrowth and then trees. His spirits lifted as he padded with Scratch underneath the branches. This was more like his territory in the forest.

“When we set the borders, we’ll have to make this part of SkyClan territory.” Firestar sniffed appreciatively. “There’s plenty of prey. Moss, too,” he added, flicking his ears toward thick cushions of it growing on the gnarled roots of an oak tree.

Scratch gave him a sidelong glance. “Then you’d better convince the rogues who live here already.”

Firestar realized he had a point. He didn’t want to start the new Clan by throwing other cats out of dens they had occu-pied for moons.

Scratch wove his way through the trees until they came to a hollow tree trunk lying amid lush grass in the middle of a clearing. A pale, blurred shape was visible at the mouth of the tree trunk. As Firestar drew nearer he recognized the cream-and-brown tabby she-cat he had surprised in the scrubland near the Twolegplace.

“Scratch?” Her ears twitched warily as the two toms drew nearer. “Who’s this with you?”

“Hi,” Firestar meowed, slightly embarrassed, when Scratch had introduced him. “We met the other day…”

The she-cat emerged from the end of the trunk; her amber gaze traveled over him steadily. “I remember you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You gave me a fright, practically leaping on top of me.”

Firestar dipped his head. “It was my fault.”

“My name’s Leaf,” the she-cat continued, settling down in the long grass and waving her tail to invite Firestar to do the same. “What can I do for you?”

Firestar crouched beside her, tucking his paws underneath him, while Scratch clawed his way to the top of the trunk and gazed out into the trees. Firestar wondered if he was keeping watch, though the hostile sensation had faded as soon as they crossed the river, and now he was aware of nothing more than the ordinary scents and sounds of a forest at dusk.

“You know the place in the gorge where the river flows out?” he began.

Leaf listened in silence to the story of how SkyClan had been forced to flee from the forest. “Why are you telling me?” she asked when he had finished.

“The old SkyClan leader appeared to me in dreams,” Firestar explained. “He sent me to rebuild the Clan, and I’m looking for cats who might want to join.”

Leaf looked startled, and for several heartbeats she didn’t reply, her gaze fixed on the shadows among the trees. “I don’t know…” she mewed eventually. “I like it here, and I’m fine on my own. Scratch, are you going to join?”

Scratch padded along to the end of the trunk so he could look down at her. “I’m thinking about it. Cats living together could protect one another.”

Leaf nodded. “That’s true. Living alone is especially hard for old cats and kits. You remember Scree?” she asked Scratch.

“The old rogue who lived by the dead willow tree?”

“That’s right.” Sadness welled up in Leaf’s eyes. “I found him trying to fight off a fox. It turned tail when it saw me, but Scree was badly wounded. I stayed with him that night and tried to help him, but he died before morning.” She turned an intense gaze on Firestar. “That wouldn’t happen in a Clan, would it?”

“It might,” Firestar answered honestly. “But mostly Clan cats don’t have to fight alone, and if they’re wounded we have a medicine cat to look after them.”

Leaf gave her chest fur a couple of thoughtful licks.

“We’re having a meeting tomorrow night,” Firestar told her. “Why don’t you come and find out more?”

“All right,” she meowed. “I’ll come to the meeting. But I’m not promising anything else.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Firestar assured her.

He glanced back as Scratch led him farther into the wood.

He fiercely hoped that Leaf would decide to join SkyClan.

She already seemed to be aware of how a Clan could take care of its weaker members. Any Clan would be glad to have her.

Scratch led him along a narrow path that twisted among arching clumps of fern, the thick fronds blocking out the last of the daylight. Firestar picked up a strong cat scent before he saw anything; not long after, a bad-tempered hiss came out of the darkness.

Just ahead of Firestar, Scratch meowed, “Hi, Tangle.”

“This is my place,” a voice snapped. Peering over Scratch’s shoulder, Firestar made out a large tomcat with ragged tabby fur crouched among the roots of a tree. His fur was bristling and his amber eyes glared as if he were about to spring on them. “Go away!”

Stepping around Scratch, Firestar dipped his head in greeting. “My name’s Firestar. I’m holding a meeting for all the cats who—”

“I don’t like meetings,” Tangle rasped. “Don’t like other cats much. Now go away, unless you want a clawed pelt.”

Scratch touched Firestar on the shoulder. “He means it.

We’d better go.”

“Tomorrow night in the gorge, if you change your mind,” Firestar meowed quickly.

Tangle unsheathed his claws. Scratch butted Firestar in the side with one shoulder and muttered, “Move!” To Tangle he added, “We’re going. See you around some time.”

“Not if I see you first,” Tangle hissed, as Firestar and Scratch retreated into the ferns.

“He’s not very friendly, is he?” Firestar commented when they were out of earshot.

Scratch shrugged. “He never has been. I thought we’d better ask him, but I’m not surprised he wouldn’t listen.”

They came to a narrow stream reflecting the pale evening sky as it wound through clumps of grass and watermint.

Scratch leaped across and headed upstream until he came to a place where the bank overhung a narrow strip of pebbles.

Once again Firestar picked up a strong scent of cat.

Scratch halted. “Patch, are you there?” he meowed.

A black-and-white head poked out from under the overhang. “Scratch, is that you?”

His voice was cautious, but to Firestar’s relief he didn’t sound as unfriendly as Tangle.

“I’ve brought another cat to see you,” Scratch replied.

“We’ve come to tell you about the cats who used to live in the gorge.”

“Oh, them!” Patch came out of his den and stood on the strip of pebbles, looking up. “I know about them. I hope you haven’t brought that mad old rogue who’s always going on about them.”

“No, he brought me.” Firestar stepped forward and looked into Patch’s gleaming green eyes. “And Sky isn’t mad—far from it. He has kept alive the memory of the Clan for many seasons.” Yet again he explained what he was trying to do.

“SkyClan could be great again,” he finished. “We’re looking for strong cats to join, and Scratch thought you might be interested.”

“It does get a bit lonely here sometimes,” Patch admitted, flicking his tail tip. “I could come to your meeting, I suppose, and have a look at the other cats who might be joining.”

“Thank you,” Firestar meowed. “You’ll be welcome.”

When they had said good-bye to Patch they started back toward the river. By now it was almost completely dark; little starlight penetrated the thick canopy of leaves. Scratch checked the opening of a hollow oak tree, but it was empty, and the cat scent that clung around it was stale.

“That’s Rainfur’s den,” he remarked. “It looks like he hasn’t been around for a couple of days.”

Firestar felt worn-out when they arrived back at the gorge.

But if only a few of the cats they had seen today decided to join, they would have the beginnings of a Clan. But only the beginning, he told himself. There was a lot of work to do before SkyClan would truly live again.

They had almost reached the path down the cliff when Sky let out a sharp exclamation and bounded ahead. Firestar caught up to find him talking to a tomcat whose pale gray pelt was marked with darker flecks.

“This is Rainfur,” he told Firestar. “We looked for you in your den,” he added to the gray tom.

Rainfur flicked his ears. “I’ve been downstream. Is there a problem?”

“No, just some news. Firestar, tell him what you told the others.”

As Firestar launched into his story again he was aware that Rainfur was looking doubtful. He seemed like a strong, proud cat who would need a good reason before he gave up his independence. When Firestar invited him to the meeting, he was quite prepared for him to refuse.

He was surprised when Rainfur nodded. “I’ll come,” the gray tom meowed, “but I’m not sure I like the idea. What will happen to cats who live here if they don’t want to join?”

“Nothing.” Firestar put as much conviction as he could into his voice. “We don’t want to quarrel with any cat.”

Rainfur’s eyes narrowed. “This is a peaceful place. I wouldn’t want anything to spoil it.” Abruptly he turned and plunged into the undergrowth.

“See you tomorrow!” Scratch called after him.

Firestar thought over the gray tom’s words as he followed Scratch down the path toward the river. He wanted to include at least part of this wood in the new Clan’s territory, but he didn’t want to cause trouble with the rogues who decided to remain as they were.

When Scratch reached the bottom of the cliff he turned toward the fallen tree trunk, but Firestar raised his tail to stop him and led the way upstream, intending to cross the river by the Rockpile. He still remembered the hostile force he had sensed in the undergrowth, and his belly lurched at the thought of encountering it again.

Moonlight washed over the gorge as Firestar and Scratch crossed the river again. Firestar leaped from the last rock to the ground to see a pale shape rising up from the shadow of the rocks.

“Sandstorm!” Firestar exclaimed. “I thought you’d be asleep. It’s late.”

His mate padded up and touched noses with him. “I wanted to hear what happened.”

“I’ll be off, then.” Scratch gave them both a wave of his tail, and bounded away to his cave.

Remembering that Clover and her kits would be sleeping in the warriors’ den, Firestar settled down on a rock by the side of the river. Sandstorm crouched beside him, pressing her side warmly against his while he told her about meeting the rogues.

“Then it looks as if SkyClan will return after all,” she mewed softly.

“Yes, I think it will.” But in spite of his optimistic words, Firestar’s belly churned when he thought of the meeting to come. He was used to addressing ThunderClan as their leader, but he wasn’t the leader of the cats who would gather here on the following night. Would they listen to him?

Am I doing the right thing? Shouldn’t there be a sign from StarClan, or from the SkyClan warrior ancestor? Where were all the other warrior ancestors of the shattered Clan?

He sat gazing up at the brilliance of Silverpelt for a long time, until Sandstorm drew her tongue over his ear and urged him back to the cave to sleep.