Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 25

The following day dawned clear and cool. Firestar stepped out onto the ledge outside the warriors’ cave to see Patch and Leaf scrambling over the spur of rock on their way upstream.

After the meeting, all the new Clan cats had returned to their own homes; one of the first tasks would be to collect more bedding and sort out the dens so that the caves in the gorge could become a real Clan camp.

Sandstorm joined him, yawning and giving one ear a vigorous scratch with her hind paw. “We’ll have to move Clover down to the nursery,” she mewed, flicking her ears toward where the mother cat and her kits were sleeping against the far wall of the cave. “There won’t be room in here once the warriors arrive.”

“We need a den for the apprentices, too,” Firestar pointed out. “And the elders, the leader, the medicine cat…”

“Well, we’ll have one elder, when Sky moves in with us.”

Sandstorm blinked thoughtfully. “But there’s no leader yet, apart from you.”

“No! I’m leader of ThunderClan. StarClan will show us which cat is meant to be leader of SkyClan.”

“And a medicine cat,” Sandstorm added. “You can’t have a Clan without a medicine cat.”

Firestar murmured agreement. He suspected that finding a medicine cat could be even harder than finding a leader, and he hadn’t begun to tackle that problem yet. Until the night before, he hadn’t been certain that there would be a Clan at all.

He had to push his worries to the back of his mind as Leaf and Patch came into view a little way down the stony trail, calling out a greeting. Patch looked nervous, but Leaf’s ears were pricked with anticipation. A heartbeat or two later Firestar heard pawsteps from up above, and Cherry, Boris, and Hutch appeared from the cliff top.

“We’re ready for our hunting lesson,” Boris meowed, his eyes shining.

“That’s good.” Sandstorm twitched her tail approvingly.

“We’ll be able to take out two full patrols.”

“Can we lead them?” Cherry bounced forward to stand in front of Firestar. “Please! We know all the good places for prey.”

“No, you’re not warriors yet.” Firestar didn’t want to dampen the young cats’ enthusiasm, but they had to get used to the way things were done in a Clan. “Don’t worry,” he added when Cherry flattened her ears in disappointment.

“You’ll be leading patrols before you know it.”

“Boris and Leaf, you come with me,” Sandstorm mewed.

“We’ll pick up Scratch on the way, and see what we can find in the bushes downstream. Is that okay with you, Firestar?”

“Fine. The rest of us can hunt on the cliff top.”

When Sandstorm had left with her patrol, Firestar led Cherry, Hutch, and Patch up the trail and through the bushes on the edge of the cliff. The sky was bright where the sun would rise, but there was still no sign of movement from the Twolegplace.

“Let’s head that way,” Firestar suggested, waving his tail toward the huge Twoleg barn. “I haven’t tried hunting there yet.”

Not much later he was starting to think he had made the wrong decision. The trees and bushes near the fence of the huge nest were oddly lacking in prey. The scent of crow-food and rats from the fence made it almost impossible to taste anything else on the air.

“Sandstorm’s patrol will catch much more,” Cherry muttered. “And Boris will never let me hear the end of it!”

Almost ready to give up and go somewhere else, Firestar stopped trying to track down prey to give Hutch and Patch their first lesson in the hunter’s crouch and the right way to stalk. Hutch concentrated very hard, but found it difficult to get his haunches into the proper position, while Patch had it almost right the first time. Of course, the rogue cats had been hunting for themselves since they were kits; they would need to learn only the skills of hunting in a group before they were as good as any forest warrior.

“Okay,” Firestar meowed. “I want you to imagine that there’s prey under that gorse bush over there.” He waved his tail to show them which bush he meant. “Let me see you stalk up to it.”

All three cats set off. Watching them critically, Firestar admired Cherry’s graceful, controlled prowl; she had learned a lot since she first tracked him in the undergrowth downstream. Patch was slinking along with his belly fur brushing the ground, and even Hutch seemed to have gotten his paws under control.

“Keep going; you’re doing great,” Firestar encouraged them.

Suddenly Patch sprang up with a hiss of astonishment.

One paw flashed out, and Firestar spotted a small brown shape as it was tossed in the air. Patch grabbed it as it fell to the ground again. He turned back to Firestar with a mouse dangling limply from his jaws.

“Well done!” Firestar meowed. “First catch to you.”

“I think it was half-asleep,” Patch admitted, dropping the mouse. “It never had a chance.”

“Fresh-kill is fresh-kill, however you catch it.” Firestar began to scrape at the ground with his hind paws. “We’ll bury it now, and take it back with us when we’re ready.”

Which won’t be long, he promised himself. He didn’t like this part of the territory; it was too quiet, too bare of prey, and something about the huge Twoleg barn made him uncomfortable.

“Let’s see your crouches again,” he mewed.

Hutch had drawn a little way ahead of Cherry; the tabby kittypet had nearly reached the gorse bush when a squirrel started up from underneath the branches and raced for the safety of a clump of beech trees. Startled, Hutch waited a heartbeat too long before chasing after it.

“I’ll get it!” Cherry yowled, streaking past Hutch with her tail streaming out.

Hutch halted, looking bewildered.

The squirrel reached the tree with Cherry hard on its paws and swarmed up the trunk until it reached the lowest branch.

“Got you!” Cherry hurled herself into the air.

But she had misjudged the leap. A mouse-length short, her paws struck a clump of leaves and she hung there, clawing frantically, kicking her hind legs and scattering scraps of leaf everywhere, until she managed to haul herself up onto the branch. Meanwhile the squirrel had vanished among the leaves farther up the tree.

“Mouse dung!” Cherry spat.

Firestar strolled to the foot of the tree and looked up at her. Privately he thought the young tortoiseshell’s failure would do her no harm—she needed to learn not to show off—but he wouldn’t say anything to upset her. She looked frustrated enough.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No! Stupid squirrel—I should have caught it.”

“It was my fault.” Hutch padded up beside Firestar. “I should have been a bit quicker.”

“Don’t worry.” Firestar touched his shoulder with the tip of his tail. “This is only your first lesson. You’re doing fine.”

Hutch looked unconvinced. “I feel like I’m letting you all down. No cat will want to hunt for me if I can’t hunt for myself.”

Firestar let his tail rest on the tabby tom’s shoulder for a moment longer. “That’s not how a Clan works,” he explained.

“You’ll be allowed your share of the fresh-kill pile like any other warrior. And you will hunt for yourself, and the rest of us too, before very long.” Looking from Hutch’s disappointed face to Cherry’s frustrated one, he turned and signaled to Patch with his tail. “Fetch that mouse,” he called. “We’ll see if there’s more prey nearer the cliff top.”

Just as Firestar had hoped, there was better hunting in the bushes that edged the cliff. Before very long, the patrol was able to return to the gorge with a good haul of prey. Hutch was bursting with pride at bringing down his first sparrow, with a leap that proved the tabby kittypet bore SkyClan blood.

His jaws full of fresh-kill, Firestar led the way down into the gorge. The sun was up, and warm, honey-colored light pooled on the rocks and dazzled on the smooth curve of water where it poured out of the darkness. Firestar and Sandstorm had kept a small fresh-kill pile near the entrance to the warriors’ cave, but that wouldn’t do now. They would need to look for a sheltered spot near the waterside, where every cat could come and eat.

As he padded down the trail, Firestar saw that Sandstorm and her patrol had also returned. He paused, stiffening. Close to the Rockpile, Sandstorm and Scratch stood facing each other with their neck fur fluffed out, as if they were quarreling. Leaf and Boris looked on anxiously, while Clover, at the water’s edge, gathered her kits to her.

Firestar bounded down the last few tail-lengths of the trail. Sandstorm had deposited her patrol’s fresh-kill under an overhang at the bottom of the Rockpile; he added his own before turning to the two cats.

“And I’m telling you that’s not the way it’s done,” Sandstorm growled, her green eyes furious. “In a Clan, the elders and the nursing queens always eat first.”

Scratch lashed his tail. “That’s mouse-brained! It’s the warriors who catch the prey!”

“There’s no need to argue,” Clover interrupted in a soft voice. “I don’t mind. You can eat first. There’s plenty for every cat.”

“That’s not the point,” Firestar intervened.

Sandstorm’s head whipped around; she had obviously been so intent on Scratch that she hadn’t heard Firestar approach. When she saw him, the fur on her shoulders began to lie flat. “Thank StarClan you’re here! Tell this stupid furball—”

Firestar lifted his tail to silence her. Hurling insults wasn’t going to help. To Scratch he mewed, “Sandstorm’s right. Just because warriors are strong enough to hunt doesn’t mean they have the right to eat first.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Scratch protested, his green eyes wide with indignation. “The Clan depends on its warriors. They should be fed first so that they’re always strong enough to deal with unexpected trouble.” With a hostile glance at Sandstorm he added, “Some cats won’t listen.”

To Firestar’s relief, Sandstorm didn’t respond. Brushing her pelt reassuringly, he padded forward to face the ginger tom. “Yes, it’s important for a Clan to have strong warriors.

But the warrior code isn’t just based on what is practical.

Honor matters equally as much. Elders and nursing queens must be shown respect, because without them the Clan wouldn’t survive.”

“SkyClan hasn’t survived,” Scratch muttered darkly.

“True, but that’s no reason to cast the warrior code aside.

Whatever happened to the original SkyClan cats”—Firestar wished that he knew what had happened to SkyClan, but there was no time to think of that now—“it wasn’t the fault of the elders or the nursing queens. We must continue to honor them.”

Scratch hesitated. Then his head whipped around and he glared at Clover. “Okay. Eat.”

Looking very embarrassed, Clover darted past him to the fresh-kill pile, snatched a blackbird, and carried it to where her kits were crouched by the side of the water.

Sandstorm let out a sigh, and padded off to say something quietly to Leaf, who rested her tail tip sympathetically on the ginger she-cat’s shoulder. Firestar signaled to the other cats to come and take prey from the pile, though he didn’t have much appetite himself. He couldn’t help wondering how many more arguments there would be before Scratch and the other cats really understood the warrior code.

Sunhigh had come and gone while the cats, full-fed, drowsed in the sunlight or withdrew to the cool shade of the caves. Every cat in the new Clan was there; Firestar had even spotted Sky padding quietly down the gorge and curling up in the shadow of a thorn tree.

Firestar lay beside Sandstorm, his tongue rasping over her shoulder in long, rhythmic strokes. Sandstorm’s eyes were green slits, and a purr rumbled deep in her chest.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper with Scratch,” she murmured.

“You handled him much better.”

Firestar gave her another lick before replying. “Scratch is going to make a fine warrior. But he has to see that the warrior code is about more than just strength. He’ll learn, given time.”

Sandstorm sighed. “Just as Clover has to learn that a Clan is more than protection.” She butted Firestar’s shoulder affectionately with her head. “We’ll have to show them.”

“True. And I think I know how to start.”

He rose to his paws and arched his back in a long stretch.

Then he bounded up to the top of the Rockpile and yowled out the familiar words: “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!”

Sky started and sat up straight, gazing around as if he wasn’t sure where the call had come from. Leaf and Patch, who had been drowsing together at the water’s edge, raised their heads, then sat up to listen. Scratch popped his head out of his cave. Cherry and Boris came racing down the trail from the cliff top, while Clover’s kits bundled excitedly out of the warriors’ den and bounced down to the gorge, followed more slowly by their mother. Within a few heartbeats the whole

Clan had gathered and sat around the Rockpile looking up at Firestar.

“Cats of SkyClan,” Firestar began. Pride rippled through his fur as he addressed these cats by their Clan name for the first time. “Last night you committed yourselves to this Clan and the warrior code. Today the Clan will honor you with your Clan names. Scratch, Leaf, Hutch, Clover, and Patch, please come to stand at the bottom of the Rockpile.”

Exchanging bewildered glances, the five cats rose to their paws and drew closer to the bottom of the rocks. Clover’s kits tried to follow her, and Sandstorm gently halted them with a sweep of her tail.

Firestar picked his way down the rocks to stand in front of the group of cats. There had never been a warrior ceremony like this before, and he had to get it right so that it had meaning with their warrior ancestors—if there were any watching.

“I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan and mentor to SkyClan, call upon their warrior ancestors to look down upon these cats,” he began. “They have a true desire to learn the ways of your noble warrior code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” Padding up to Scratch, he went on, “Scratch, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Scratch hesitated; Sandstorm slipped up behind him and whispered, “Say, ‘I do.’”

“I do,” Scratch meowed, his eyes fixed steadily on Firestar.

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Scratch, from this moment you will be known as Sharpclaw. StarClan trusts you will give all your courage and strength to the new Clan.”

Sharpclaw blinked, then dipped his head. Firestar bent to rest his muzzle between the new warrior’s ears.

“Lick his shoulder,” Sandstorm directed.

Sharpclaw obeyed, and stepped back.

“Now we welcome him to the Clan by calling out his name,” Sandstorm meowed. “Sharpclaw! Sharpclaw!”

The rest of the Clan echoed her, Cherry yowling, “Sharpclaw!” at the top of her voice and bouncing up and down enthusiastically.

Firestar gave Patch the warrior name of Patchfoot, and Clover became Clovertail. When he turned to Hutch, he saw doubt and fear in the kittypet’s eyes, and was half-afraid that when he was asked to take the oath he would back out.

“Hutch, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Hutch swallowed; his voice shook as he replied, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Hutch, from this moment you will be known as Shortwhisker. StarClan trusts you will give all your strength and wisdom to the building of this new Clan.”

As he spoke, he saw the doubt fade from Shortwhisker’s eyes, to be replaced by determination. Firestar knew he would be a fine warrior when he had learned to trust himself.

Finally he turned to Leaf. She had waited quietly, acknowledging each of her new Clanmates by their warrior names, and he was struck by the intentness in her eyes when he spoke to her. There was no hesitation as she meowed, “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Leaf, from this moment you will be known as Leafdapple. StarClan trusts you will give all your intelligence and loyalty to the building of this new Clan.”

Leafdapple’s amber eyes glowed as Firestar rested his muzzle on her head.

When the Clan had finished calling Leafdapple by her new name, Firestar raised his tail to beckon Cherry and Boris.

Cherry dashed forward at once, eyes sparkling with eagerness, but Boris was hesitant, as if he realized more clearly than his sister what a massive step they were about to take.

“It’s time to add two new apprentices to the Clan,” Firestar mewed. “From this day forward,” he began, touching Cherry on the shoulder with his tail tip, “this apprentice will be known as Cherrypaw. Sharpclaw, you have much to teach an apprentice, so you will be her mentor.”

Cherrypaw’s head whipped around and she stared at Sharpclaw. “Does that mean I have to do what he says?”

“Yes, it does,” Sandstorm replied, an edge to her voice.

“Touch noses with him.”

Sharpclaw stepped forward; Cherrypaw stretched out her neck, gave him a quick dab on the nose, and moved back again.

“What if she doesn’t do what I tell her?” Sharpclaw asked, eyeing his new apprentice. “What do I do then?”

Sandstorm’s eyes sparkled. “Whatever you like.”

“Within reason,” Firestar added hastily, twitching his ears at his mate. “To start with, you’d better ask me or Sandstorm if you need to punish her. We’ll tell you what usually happens in our own Clan.”

Turning to Boris, who had been listening apprehensively, he touched the young tabby on his shoulder. “From this day forward, this apprentice will be known as Sparrowpaw.

Leafdapple, you will be his mentor and share your experience with him.”

The newly named Sparrowpaw stepped forward to touch noses with Leafdapple, but for a heartbeat the she-cat held back, her eyes troubled.

“I’m sorry, Firestar, but I don’t think I can do this,” she meowed. “I’m so new to living in a Clan. How can I train an apprentice properly?”

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “Sandstorm and I will help you.

For a while, every cat will be learning together.”

Relief shone in Leafdapple’s eyes, and she stepped forward to touch noses with Sparrowpaw. “I’ll do my best,” she promised him.

The rest of the Clan welcomed the two apprentices by calling their names, while Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw listened with shining eyes.

“What about us?” Bounce sprang to his paws from where he sat beside his mother Clovertail. “Why can’t we be apprentices?”

“We want proper Clan names, too,” added his sister Tiny.

“You can’t be apprentices until you’re six moons old,” Firestar explained.

“But that’s ages away!” Rock complained, lashing his stumpy black tail.

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm, seeing amusement glimmering in her green eyes.

“All right,” he meowed, beckoning with his tail. “Come here. You can’t be apprentices yet, but you can have Clan names.”

The three kits dashed toward him, falling over their own paws in their eagerness. When they stood in front of him, quivering with excitement, Firestar touched each with his tail on the top of the head. “From now on, these kits will be known as Rockkit, Bouncekit, and Tinykit.”

“Rockkit! Bouncekit! Tinykit!” Leafdapple called, and the rest of the Clan echoed her with warm purrs of affection.

The three kits marched back to their mother, their tails high in the air.

“What about a Clan leader?” Sharpclaw asked. “You’re not going to stay here forever, are you?”

Firestar wondered if Sharpclaw was nurturing hopes of being SkyClan’s new leader. He was strong, he knew the area well, and he wasn’t afraid to take authority. But Firestar didn’t feel confident about deciding which cat should lead the new Clan—that was a job for their warrior ancestors, surely?

“It doesn’t work like that,” he told Sharpclaw. “It’s not my job to choose a leader. StarClan will do that.”

Sharpclaw’s eyes narrowed and his voice was disbelieving as he asked, “How?”

“They’ll send us a sign,” Firestar explained.

Sharpclaw let out a snort, but didn’t say any more.

“Now I have one more name to give,” Firestar announced, relieved that the question of leadership was over for the moment. He turned to where Sky sat in the shade of the cliff.

“Sky, come here, please.”

The old cat rose to his paws and padded forward. When Sky stood in front of him, Firestar bowed his head in respect for everything the old cat had done to preserve the memory of SkyClan.

“I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan and mentor to SkyClan, call upon his warrior ancestors to look down upon this cat,” he meowed. “He has served the warrior code throughout his life, and it is thanks to him that this Clan stands here today. For that reason, I ask no promise from him, for he is already a true warrior. Sky, from this day forward you will be known as Skywatcher, in memory of your faith and your dedication to SkyClan.”

A glow of delight flared in the old cat’s pale eyes.

“Skywatcher! Skywatcher!”

Skywatcher gazed deep into Firestar’s eyes. “Thank you. I never dreamed this would happen. I… I hope my ancestors can see me now.”

“I’m sure they can,” Firestar told him.

Drawing closer, Skywatcher murmured in his ear, “Come to my den tonight. There’s something I must tell you.”

Moonlight silvered the rocks as Firestar padded up the gorge. He couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease, but this time it had nothing to do with sensations of hostility or a glimpse of bright, cold eyes in the undergrowth. What did the old cat want to tell him that couldn’t have been said at the meeting by the Rockpile? Why had he insisted on returning to his den under the tree roots, instead of moving in with the Clan, where he could be treated with all the respect that an elder deserved?

He found the twisting path behind the boulder and began to follow it up the side of the gorge. A chill breeze ruffled his fur, a reminder that the warm days of greenleaf must soon come to an end. As he padded up the steep path, he spotted the blur of a gray pelt beneath the thorn tree, and found Skywatcher crouching at the mouth of his den with his paws tucked under him.

“You asked me to come.”

For a few heartbeats Skywatcher held him with eyes like deep pools of water. “I want to thank you,” he meowed solemnly. “You have rebuilt the lost Clan.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” Firestar replied. “I did only what I had to.”

Skywatcher nodded, blinking thoughtfully. “Do you think you have been a good leader for ThunderClan?”

The question startled Firestar, and at first he wasn’t sure how to reply. “I don’t know,” he mewed at last. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve always tried to do what is right for my Clan.”

“No cat would doubt your loyalty,” Skywatcher agreed.

“But how far would it go?”

Puzzled, Firestar stayed silent. Why was Skywatcher asking him about ThunderClan?

“There are difficult times ahead,” Skywatcher went on, “and your loyalty will be tested to the utmost. Sometimes the destiny of one cat is not the destiny of the whole Clan.”

Firestar tipped his head to one side. Nothing Skywatcher said was making sense. Was ThunderClan in trouble? He had left them in peace, but that was several moons ago. What would happen to a leaderless Clan with rivals like ShadowClan around?

Skywatcher rose to his paws; his eyes blazed with reflected moonlight. For a heartbeat Firestar was sure he could see the glitter of stars tangled in his fur. The old cat’s voice was soft, but charged with power, stronger than it had been before.

“Your Clan is safe for now. But there will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.”

Firestar stared at the old warrior. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?”

There was no reply, except for a slight twitch of Skywatcher’s ears.

“You must tell me more!” Firestar protested. “How can I decide what I should do if you don’t explain?”

The old cat took a deep breath, but when he spoke it was only to say, “Farewell, Firestar. In seasons to come, remember me.”

He waved his tail, a clear indication that Firestar should go.

Firestar gazed at him helplessly for a moment longer before turning and stumbling down the path away from the den. His whole body felt cold. Skywatcher’s words had the unmistakable ring of a prophecy from StarClan, but Firestar had no idea what they referred to.

There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

Firestar had no kin in ThunderClan except for Cloudtail, so who could the three be?

As he approached the Rockpile, listening to the unending murmur of the river, he paused and raised his eyes to Silverpelt. In the forest, the light of his warrior ancestors was a comfort to him, but he could not even be sure that they walked these strange skies.

“Can you hear me?” he whispered. “Bluestar, Spottedleaf, Yellowfang, if you are listening, please help me keep ThunderClan safe from what lies ahead.”