Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 24

The half-moon shone coldly as Firestar padded down the stony trail to the Rockpile. No other cats were waiting for him, and he couldn’t make out any shadowy shapes approaching down the cliff or along the river. Only Sandstorm was with him, pausing beside him at the foot of the rocks to gaze at him with luminous green eyes.

Firestar shifted from paw to paw, uneasy under the light of the half-moon. This was the time when medicine cats met to share dreams with StarClan. Somehow it felt wrong to be waiting for other cats to gather; the moon should have been full. Could that be a bad omen?

Shaking off the premonition of disaster, Firestar let his gaze follow the twisting line of the river, glittering silver in the starlight. He wanted to leap to the top of the rocks and yowl the words that drew his own Clan to a meeting. But the familiar summons would mean nothing here, and he was not sure there would be any other cats to hear it.

Suppose no cat comes to the meeting? What will I do then?

“You’ll be okay.” Sandstorm touched his shoulder with the tip of her tail. “It’s hard when you’re not these cats’ leader, but 3 1 2

you still have to shape them into a Clan.”

“Some of them,” Firestar corrected her. Even at his most optimistic, he couldn’t believe that all the cats he had spoken to would agree to join the new Clan. The last thing he wanted was to force any cat; it was important that they joined because they wanted to, and were willing to live by the warrior code.

Am I afraid they won’t do what I want? No, it was more than that.

The cats who joined SkyClan would have to be determined enough to survive after he and Sandstorm had returned to the forest. And they would succeed only if they were committed to the warrior code to the last claw and whisker.

“Go on.” Sandstorm nudged him toward the Rockpile.

“It’s time.”

Firestar met her brilliant gaze for a couple of heartbeats, and drank in her sweet scent. New strength seemed to flow into him; he sprang upward and reached the top of the Rockpile in a few vigorous bounds. From this vantage point he could see farther downstream and up the gorge in the other direction, but there was still no sign of any cats, except for Sandstorm sitting patiently at the foot of the rocks. The half-moon floated higher in the sky.

Where are you? Firestar thought desperately.

Then he caught sight of a flicker of movement in the shadows near the cliff face. He heard the scrape of claws on rock, and Sky pulled himself onto the topmost boulder to stand beside him.

“Greetings,” he meowed. “I see I’m in time for the meeting.”

“You know about that?” Firestar asked, surprised.

Sky dismissed the question with a flick of his ears. His gray pelt was silver in the moonlight, and his pale eyes shone.

Firestar wondered if Sky had ways of knowing things that other cats couldn’t understand.

“Do you want to speak to them first?” he suggested.

“You’re a descendant of SkyClan; they’ll listen to you.”

“Listen to me? The crazy rogue who sits looking at the moon?” A rusty purr of amusement came from the old cat.

“No, you must speak to them. More than anything, they need a leader to follow, and you can walk that path more easily than I.”

“But I am not their leader…” Firestar started to protest.

Sky looked deep into his eyes. “You can go back to your own Clan soon,” he promised. “But my Clan needs you now.”

Firestar bowed his head. “I will try,” he whispered.

Straightening up, he saw with a start of surprise that cats had begun to appear in the gorge. He spotted Scratch sitting at the foot of the rocks, half-hidden in shadows. Clover was guiding her kits down the stony trail and thrust them gently toward a niche in the Rockpile itself. All three kits were squeaking with excitement.

“Hush,” Clover murmured. “We have to listen to Firestar.

He’s going to tell us something very important.”

An excited yowl drowned out the kits’ reply, and Firestar looked up to see Cherry and Boris slip over the edge of the cliff and pad rapidly down the trail until they reached the Rockpile.

“Where are they all?” Boris asked, gazing around indignantly. “I thought they’d be here by now.”

“I told you we should have gone to fetch Hutch,” Cherry meowed. “He’s probably curled up somewhere with his Twolegs. The fat, lazy—”

“Quiet,” Sandstorm interrupted. “Look, some cat is coming now.”

Firestar had already spotted the slender shape approaching from downstream: it was Lichen, a mottled brown she-cat he and Scratch had met the day before in the woods below the gorge. She halted, clearly nervous at seeing so many other cats waiting, and sat on a stone at the very edge of the river.

Leaf and Rainfur arrived next, padding side by side as if they already knew each other; they spotted Scratch and went to join him at the base of the cliff. At the same time, Firestar glimpsed movement farther up the rock face; Hutch was picking his way cautiously down to join Cherry and Boris, and to Firestar’s surprise Oscar was close behind. The black kittypet halted on a ledge a couple of tail-lengths from the ground, and crouched there with his paws tucked under him.

Last came Patch, bounding up the path beside the river as if he were afraid of being late; he gave a wary nod to Lichen, and sat near her at the edge of the gathering.

Firestar’s pelt prickled as he felt the gaze of every cat trained on him. He exchanged a glance with Sky, who stepped back and slid over the edge of the boulder, leaving Firestar alone at the top of the Rockpile. He straightened up, holding his head high, trying to show in every hair on his pelt the pride he felt in being a warrior.

“Greetings,” he began, “and thanks to all of you for coming. Yesterday I told you about SkyClan, who used to live here in the gorge. I told you that I was sent here to rebuild that Clan.”

“Get on with it, then.” A bored yowl came from the ledge where Oscar sat.

Firestar’s ears twitched; had the black cat come just to dis-rupt the meeting? He ignored the comment and went on.

“Living in a Clan, cats have the support of their Clanmates from birth to death. Mothers look after their kits, while warriors protect the nursing mothers and bring them food. When the kits reach the age of six moons, they become apprentices, with mentors who teach them to fight and hunt.”

Excited squeals came from somewhere farther down the Rockpile. “I want to be an apprentice!”

“So do I! Can we?”

“I want to be an apprentice now!”

“Hush.” Firestar heard Clover’s voice. “You’ll have to go back to the cave if you can’t listen to Firestar quietly.”

“When the apprentices are fully trained,” Firestar went on, “they become warriors. Warriors are the strength of a Clan.

They must be ready to defend it against enemies like foxes or badgers or other cats.” A shiver passed through him as he remembered the battle to drive BloodClan out of the forest.

“They must hunt for the Clan and make sure every cat is fed.”

“And what do the warriors get out of it?” Rainfur called, rising to his paws.

“Honor and respect,” Firestar replied. “The loyalty of friends. The satisfaction of knowing that they have served their Clanmates.”

Rainfur gave him a brusque nod and sat down again.

Firestar didn’t think he was very impressed with his answer.

“When warriors grow old,” he continued, “they retire and join the Clan’s elders. Part of the apprentices’ duties is to look after them, to change their bedding and bring them fresh-kill. They are honored because they have given their lives in the service of their Clan.

“Every Clan has a leader and a deputy to oversee training, organize patrols, and decide what to do if danger threatens.

Clan leaders are given nine lives by StarClan, so they can be first in every battle, and last to take fresh-kill if the Clan is hungry.”

He caught a gleam of interest in Scratch’s eyes when he mentioned nine lives, and felt a prickle of unease.

“And if any cat is sick or wounded,” he went on, “each Clan has a medicine cat to care for them. Medicine cats have special knowledge of healing herbs, and they guide their Clan through dreams sent from StarClan.”

“That’s twice you’ve mentioned StarClan,” Leaf mewed.

She had listened intently to everything Firestar had said, her shining gaze fixed on him. “What is that?”

Firestar wasn’t surprised by the question, but he paused before answering. Was he right to tell these cats that the spirits of their warrior ancestors were watching over them? He wasn’t sure that StarClan walked in these skies, and he had seen only one SkyClan warrior ancestor.

“You can see StarClan above you,” he explained, raising his tail to point at the glitter of Silverpelt. “Clan cats who die go to hunt with them—I don’t know how it is for cats who have no Clan.”

An uncertain murmur rose from the cats below. He understood why this was difficult for them; everything else he had told them made practical sense, whether they approved of it or not, but he was asking them to take this on trust.

Clover sprang to her paws. “Well, I’m going to join the new Clan,” she meowed. “Firestar, Sandstorm, and Scratch saved my kits from a fox. They’ll be safe if we’re part of a Clan.”

Firestar winced; catching Sandstorm’s eye, he saw the same misgivings reflected there. Clover was still thinking of SkyClan as something she could depend on, without considering how she could contribute to the life of the Clan.

Sky jumped up to stand on the boulder beside Firestar. His pale eyes shone as he gazed down at the cats. A ripple of surprise passed through them as he began to speak in a low, husky voice. “I have kept alive the memory of SkyClan all my life,” he rasped. “I know that my ancestors have been waiting to see the Clan rebuilt, but sometimes I despaired that it could ever come to be.”

Firestar still wasn’t sure that the cats below understood the meaning of warrior ancestors, but no cat rose to challenge Sky. Instead, Firestar could see respect dawning in their eyes.

This wasn’t the cranky elder they had dismissed as mad; this was a cat whose wisdom and experience made him worth listening to.

“Now you have a leader who has come a long way to rebuild SkyClan,” the old cat went on. “Listen to him well before you decide. He will show you a way of life that gives honor to every cat.”

Yes, I’m a leader, Firestar thought with a sudden stab of panic. But I’m not their leader. He was a stranger to the gorge, and the cats here were unlikely to listen to him with the same respect they were beginning to show Sky. They were murmuring among themselves again, and so far none of the newcomers had committed themselves to joining SkyClan.

Firestar realized that the meeting could be about to break up in failure.

“We’re going to join the Clan!” Cherry sprang excitedly to her paws. “Come on; it’s going to be great!”

“Count me in too.” Scratch turned to Firestar and spoke directly to him. “It makes sense that cats are stronger when they’re together.”

Instantly Firestar felt more confident. He had hoped Scratch would make this decision; he was a powerful cat, and while he still needed to learn to live by the warrior code, there wasn’t much any cat could teach him about hunting and fighting. But had Scratch decided to join because he wanted to become a nine-lived leader?

“Thank you,” Firestar meowed, pushing away his concerns.

“SkyClan welcomes you.”

“Well, I won’t join.” It was Lichen who spoke, politely but with no hesitation in her voice. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable around so many cats. I like my privacy too much.”

“That’s your decision.” Firestar was disappointed; he liked what he had seen of the mottled she-cat. “And if you change your mind, you know where we are.”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I wish you well, though.” With a dip of her head she turned and padded away down the riverbank.

Rainfur watched her go, then rose to his paws. “I haven’t heard anything that makes me want to join,” he growled. “All I can see is, other cats will be telling me what to do all the time.”

“That’s not how it works—” Firestar protested. But part of him could understand why the gray tom felt like that. Firestar had no right to tell these cats how to live their lives; why should they listen when so far they had gotten on perfectly well without him?

“I’d sooner hunt for myself,” Rainfur went on. “I don’t need SkyClan.”

“I’m sorry,” Firestar mewed. “SkyClan could use you.”

Rainfur’s pelt bristled. “I don’t want to be used, thanks,” he spat. Whirling around, he bounded downstream after Lichen.

Firestar stared after him, angry that he had spoken so clumsily. Then he noticed that Leaf was gazing up at him with sympathy in her eyes.

“Don’t mind Rainfur,” she meowed. “He always was a bit touchy. Maybe we can persuade him later, when he sees how the Clan works.”

Firestar’s ears twitched. “We?”

“Yes, I’ll join,” Leaf assured him. “If the Clan really works how you say it will, then cats will have a purpose. We’ll be more than just rogues, just living to stay alive.”

Firestar was impressed. Her words might have come from a true Clan cat. He felt a purr rising in his chest.

“Thank you,” he mewed. Glancing at the cats who so far had not decided—Patch, Hutch, and Oscar—he added, “All I can tell you is that SkyClan lived here once and could live here again, following the warrior code for the benefit of every cat. Do you want to be part of it?”

Patch rasped his tongue over his chest fur. “Okay, I’ll give it a go.”

Cherry gave Hutch a nudge with her shoulder. “Come on, Hutch. What about it?”

Hutch looked up at Firestar, embarrassment in his amber eyes. “I’d like to, I really would, but I’m afraid I won’t be good enough at all this hunting and fighting. I’ve always been a kittypet.”

“We’re kittypets too,” Boris pointed out. “Firestar can teach you all that stuff.”

“If you join us, you’ll be very welcome,” Firestar told him.

The tabby tom nodded. “Okay, then. I’d miss Cherry and Boris if they went off without me.”

Firestar flicked his ears toward the one cat who so far had not spoken. “What about you, Oscar?”

The black kittypet rose slowly from the ledge where he had been crouching. “You don’t think I came here to join, do you? Why would I leave a couple of perfectly good housefolk who give me everything I want? I didn’t spend moons training them for nothing.”

“Why are you here, then?” Boris demanded.

Oscar’s jaws stretched in an insolent yawn. “I just wanted to find out what stupid ideas you’d come up with. And they are stupid. You’re all mouse-brained.” With a flick of his tail he set off up the trail, back toward the cliff top.

“Mouse-brained yourself!” Cherry yowled after him.

Sky padded forward to the edge of the Rockpile and looked down at the remaining cats. “SkyClan lives again!” he announced. Raising his head to the misty half-moon, he yowled, “SkyClan! SkyClan!”

“SkyClan! SkyClan!” the cats down in the gorge replied.

Firestar shivered from ears to tail tip. What had once seemed so impossible, so far off, was now real. The cats who stood around the Rockpile, yowling to the stars, were the beginnings of a new Clan to replace the one lost so long ago.

Then cold claws seemed to grip his heart. That sense of anger and hatred he had felt in the undergrowth downstream washed over him again. He raised his head to scan the bushes on the cliff top, and was sure he could spot glittering eyes among the branches.