Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 26

Firestar slept fitfully and woke at dawn to find that clouds had covered the sky. A stiff breeze was blowing, and a few leaves whirled down from the bushes on the cliff top. Leaf-fall could not be far away. Giving himself a quick grooming, he tried to forget his fears from the night before. The meaning of Skywatcher’s prophecy was hidden in the moons to come. He could do nothing about it now.

Clovertail and her kits had finally settled in the nursery, leaving room for the new SkyClan warriors to share the big cave with Firestar and Sandstorm. Restless to be doing something, Firestar padded across the cave and prodded Sharpclaw with one paw.

“Wha…?” Sharpclaw raised his head, blinking.

“Time for a dawn patrol,” Firestar announced.

Sharpclaw groaned, then hauled himself out of his nest and shook scraps of moss and fern from his pelt while Firestar roused Leafdapple.

“We’ll fetch Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw and patrol the borders,” he explained.

Leafdapple looked puzzled. “We haven’t got any borders.”

“We’re going to set some.”

He led the way down the trail to the cave they had chosen for the apprentices’ den, wondering how Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw had coped with their first night away from their Twolegs. He remembered settling them in the night before, helping them to carry moss up from the cave beside the river and arrange it into comfortable nests.

Sparrowpaw’s eyes had grown wide with anxiety as the sun set and night crept into the gorge. “I wonder how our housefolk are feeling,” he muttered.

Cherrypaw gave him a comforting lick. “They’ll be okay, and so will we. We’re Clan cats now.”

But Firestar had noticed the tip of her tail twitching, and knew she wasn’t as confident as she pretended.

When he and the other warriors arrived outside their cave that morning, Cherrypaw shot outside, her fur sticking all over the place.

“Are we going hunting?” she demanded. “I’m starving!”

“Elders and nursing queens eat first,” Sharpclaw reminded her, with a glance at Firestar.

“That’s right, but Sandstorm will lead a hunting patrol later on for the rest of the Clan,” Firestar mewed. “We’re the dawn patrol, and we can pick up some prey on the way.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” Cherrypaw asked.

“Sure,” Firestar replied. “It’s only hunting patrols who have to bring their fresh-kill back for the Clan.”

“Good.” Sparrowpaw poked his head out of the den behind his sister. “Let’s get going!”

Firestar led the way up the gorge past the path that led to Skywatcher’s den, as far as the rocks where they had saved Clovertail and her kits from the fox. He wondered if the first SkyClan warriors had set their boundaries anywhere nearby; he guessed they would have marked out a bigger territory than the new SkyClan needed now, with fewer mouths to feed and fewer warriors to guard the borders.

“We’ll set the first scent markers here,” he explained.

“Then any cat who comes along will know that this is our territory. If you keep renewing the marks, then over a few moons a really strong scent builds up.”

A shiver went through him from ears to tail tip. When he first came to the forest, the borders of ThunderClan had been settled for more seasons than any cat could remember.

The decisions he made now would affect SkyClan for seasons to come.

“Do other cats respect the boundaries?” Leafdapple asked.

It was a good question, Firestar thought. Cats from other Clans would think twice before crossing border markers, but there were no other Clans in this remote place.

“You might have trouble from rogues—” he began.

“We’ll soon teach them to stay out of our territory,” Sharpclaw interrupted, flexing his claws.

“Or get them to join us,” Leafdapple suggested quietly.

“We were rogues ourselves not so long ago.”

When the first markers were set, Firestar found a trail that led up to the cliff top on the side opposite the camp. The cats headed downstream again along the top of the gorge.

“Here’s a good place for another scent marker,” Firestar meowed, pointing with his tail toward a boulder that broke through the thin soil a couple of tail-lengths from the cliff edge. “It’s always a good idea to have a marker you can see as well as scent. That way it’s easier to remember where they are.”

“Can I do it? Please?” Cherrypaw bounced up to the rock.

“Okay. You saw what I did back there. Catch up when you’ve finished.”

While Cherrypaw set the marker, Firestar led the other cats farther along the cliff until they came in sight of the woodland where he had spoken to the rogues. Cherrypaw came bounding up as they paused for Sparrowpaw to set another marker at a spot where the cliff edge crumbled away.

“I want to include some of the woods in the territory,” Firestar meowed. “It’s the best place for prey. But I don’t want to tread on the tails of the rogues who didn’t join us.

We’re not looking for a fight.”

Leafdapple nodded. “If we stay on good terms with them, some of them might change their minds.”

Firestar let Sharpclaw take the lead as they reached the trees. The two apprentices had never been in thick woodland before; their eyes stretched wide, and Cherrypaw let out an excited squeal before slapping her tail over her mouth with a guilty look at Sharpclaw.

“That’s right, frighten all the prey in the forest,” Sharpclaw grumbled.

Firestar glanced at the ginger warrior, hoping he wasn’t going to be too tough with an apprentice who was less experienced than a Clan cat of her age. But Cherrypaw didn’t seem crushed; she had already spotted a blackbird pecking underneath a bush, and had started to creep up on it.

Leafdapple waved her tail at Sparrowpaw. “You can hunt too, if you like.”

Sparrowpaw’s ears pricked, and he stood tasting the air before stalking through long grass toward some prey Firestar couldn’t see.

“I suggest we head for the stream,” Sharpclaw meowed, keeping an eye on his apprentice. “If we make that the border, Rainfur’s and Lichen’s dens will be outside our territory.”

“What about Tangle?” Firestar asked, remembering the cranky old tabby.

Leafdapple let out a faint mrrow of amusement. “Tangle shifts his den every moon. If he doesn’t like being inside our territory, he can move outside it.”

Firestar nodded. Sharpclaw’s idea was a good one, but he reminded himself to tell the warriors not to attack rogues if they found them on SkyClan territory—at least, not until they had been given plenty of time to get used to the idea of the Clan’s presence in the woods.

“The stream it is, then,” he meowed.

Just then Cherrypaw gave an enormous leap and snatched the blackbird out of the air as it tried to fly off. Crashing to the ground again she trotted back with her prey in her jaws and laid it at Sharpclaw’s paws. “For you,” she mewed, dipping her head respectfully. “I can soon catch another.”

Sharpclaw stared at her and at the fresh-kill. “Thanks,” he managed to say. “Good catch.”

Her eyes gleaming, Cherrypaw padded off again with her tail in the air.

Not to be outdone, Sparrowpaw brought his first catch—a mouse—to Leafdapple, before going off to hunt for his own fresh-kill. Firestar was pleased to see them trying to act like proper Clan cats, and decided not to tell them that apprentices didn’t usually catch prey for their mentors. He caught a squirrel for himself, with a leap that was nearly good enough for SkyClan.

When they had finished eating, Sharpclaw led the way to the stream. Before they reached it, Cherrypaw waved her tail excitedly at a dead tree that stood by itself in a clearing.

“That’s a good place for a marker!”

Firestar halted. “It’s okay, but I think this one would be better.” He nodded at an ivy-covered oak tree on the nearer edge of the clearing.

“Why?” Sparrowpaw asked. “We’d have more territory if we used the dead tree.”

“Yes, but there’s no cover in the clearing,” Firestar explained. A tingle of excitement went through him. Were these the sort of decisions that ThunderClan warriors had made in the forest so long ago? “No cover for prey, and none for you, if there are foxes or badgers about.”

“That makes sense.” Sharpclaw padded up to the oak tree and set a marker there.

Following the stream, the cats reached the cliff top and climbed down to where the fallen tree trunk crossed the river.

Firestar took the lead once more, over to the far side of the gorge and up the cliff toward the Twolegplace, setting scent by the tree stump and the deserted fox’s den that Skywatcher had told him marked the old border. Then the patrol skirted the edge of the Twolegplace as far as the barn at the end of the row. Firestar felt his fur begin to prick again as they approached it; he didn’t like the place and never would, but at least now it was outside the SkyClan borders.

Finally he led his patrol back toward the camp by a route that took in most of the undergrowth on the cliff top. He guessed it was almost sunhigh, though clouds still covered the sky and the wind was scented with rain.

As the patrol approached the bushes, Sandstorm emerged with a mouse between her jaws. “Hi,” she mewed, dropping her prey. “I thought you must have gone on patrol.”

“We set the borders!” Cherrypaw announced proudly.

“Good.” Sandstorm twitched her whiskers with approval.

“You’ll have to tell the rest of us where they are.”

“Over the next few days, every cat can do the patrol,” Firestar meowed. “I see you’ve been hunting,” he added, flicking his tail toward the mouse.

“Yes, there’s plenty of prey about,” Sandstorm replied.

“Patchfoot is a good hunter already, and Shortwhisker is coming on really well.”

Firestar was glad to hear that. A few successes would give the former kittypet some much-needed confidence.

“There’s just one thing that’s worrying me,” Sandstorm went on in a lower voice meant for Firestar alone. “There’s been no sign of Skywatcher this morning.”

Apprehension clawed deep in Firestar’s belly. Mention of Skywatcher reminded him of the old cat’s strange mood the night before, and the ominous words of his prophecy.

“I think you should check on him,” Sandstorm prompted.

“He should be here in the camp, not stuck out there in that excuse for a den.”

“I’ll go right away,” Firestar meowed.

He picked his way down the stony trail and headed up the gorge. Remembering what Sandstorm had said about the fox, he kept all his senses alert. Skywatcher was a noble old cat, but he would be no match for a strong and determined predator. However, there was no trace of fox scent.

By the time he reached the path behind the boulder a thin drizzle had begun to fall, penetrating his fur with chill claws.

As he approached the den, he couldn’t see anything of the old warrior. Maybe he’s out hunting.…

Drawing closer, he spotted gray fur half concealed behind the roots of the thorn tree. “Skywatcher!” he called. There was no reply.

When he stood at the mouth of the den, he could see the old cat curled up at the very back, pressed against the earth wall with a tangle of roots over his head.

“Skywatcher?” Firestar repeated.

The gray warrior did not move. Firestar drew in his breath with sudden understanding as he ducked his head to enter the den and took the couple of pawsteps that brought him to Skywatcher’s side. The old cat was still, and when Firestar gently laid a paw on his shoulder, he felt cold. Somehow he looked smaller than he had when he was alive.

Grief clawed at Firestar’s heart. Perhaps the old cat had clung to life only until he could see SkyClan restored. Firestar hoped he had died happy, knowing that his dreams had been fulfilled.

“Good-bye, my friend.” His voice choked in his throat as he stroked his tail over the old warrior’s head. “May StarClan light your path.”

Firestar jumped to the top of the Rockpile and gazed down at the cats of SkyClan. Clovertail was stretched out by the stream with her kits frisking around her, while

Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw were eating beside the fresh-kill pile. Sharpclaw and Patchfoot were wrestling together at the foot of the cliff in a practice fight. Sandstorm sat watching them nearby, offering some comments on their technique.

Firestar’s heart was heavy with the news he had to tell them.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!” he yowled.

Sharpclaw and Patchfoot broke apart and sat up with ears pricked. The two apprentices swallowed their fresh-kill and looked up, their eyes bright with curiosity. Leafdapple began to pick her way down from the cliff top, joining Shortwhisker as he emerged from the warriors’ den.

“I have some bad news to tell you,” Firestar meowed when all the Clan had gathered. “Skywatcher is dead.”

For a moment there was silence, except for the happy squealing of Clovertail’s kits as they played beside their mother. Clovertail swept them closer to her with her tail.

“Hush,” she mewed. “Firestar’s telling us something very sad.”

“It is bad news,” Sharpclaw agreed, flexing his claws against the rock. “The Clan will be weaker without his experience to guide us.”

Firestar’s tail twitched; grief for the old cat swept over him again as he saw that most of the Clan cats were giving one another blank looks. He could see that few of them felt any real sense of loss.

Sandstorm came to meet him as he bounded down the Rockpile again, and pushed her nose into his shoulder fur.

“You can’t blame them,” she murmured. “They hardly knew Skywatcher, and had only just realized he wasn’t a mad old nuisance.”

“I know.” Firestar sighed. “But they need to understand how much he did for this Clan.”

He asked Patchfoot to help him and Sandstorm bring the old cat’s body back to camp for his burial. The rest of the Clan gathered around as they laid him gently at the foot of the Rockpile.

“Now remember, you have to stay up all night tonight,” Clovertail told her kits, keeping the inquisitive little creatures back with her tail. “You mustn’t go to sleep, whatever happens.”

“No, that’s all right,” Firestar meowed, surprised that the former loner had heard about the custom of keeping vigil.

“Kits don’t need to stay awake.”

Clovertail stared at him, her eyes wide with alarm and her neck fur bristling. “Do you want my kits to die?” she screeched.

“What?” Firestar was baffled. “Your kits aren’t in any danger.”

Shortwhisker shivered. “No, Clovertail’s right. You have to stay awake the night a cat dies; otherwise you die too. My mother told me that.”

“It’s true,” Sharpclaw meowed. “Remember Foxy? He went to sleep the night his brother died, and a couple of days later a monster got him.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Leafdapple put in.

“But it’s not true.” Firestar spoke firmly, seeing that the former kittypets were giving one another anxious glances.

He’d talk to the rogues later about this intriguing superstition that must have sprung from Clan traditions, even though the Clan itself had been forgotten. “We stay awake, yes, but only to honor the fallen cat on its journey to StarClan. It doesn’t have anything to do with believing that we’ll die if we don’t.”

“Not every cat sits vigil for the whole of the night,” Sandstorm went on. “Just those who were closest to the dead cat.

But tonight I think the whole Clan should do it, because there aren’t many of us.”

“We’re his kin, aren’t we?” Sparrowpaw asked. “Those of us with SkyClan blood.”

Firestar dipped his head. “Yes, you are. We’ll all keep watch, and in the morning we’ll bury him. It’s usually the elders who do that, but Sandstorm and I will do it for Skywatcher.”

“I’d like to help,” Cherrypaw mewed; the young tortoiseshell looked unusually subdued. “We never told him we were sorry for calling him names.”

“I wish we had,” Sparrowpaw added miserably.

Sandstorm touched his ear with her nose. “I think he knew.

He saw you become Clan apprentices, and that’s what he wanted most of all… to see his Clan being made strong again.”

As the sun went down and shadows filled the gorge, the Clan gathered for Skywatcher’s vigil. Firestar and Sandstorm crouched closest to him, pushing their noses into his cold gray fur. Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw sat a little way away, with the rest of the Clan. Clovertail hesitated, but settled down at the foot of the cliff with her kits snuggled into her fur as if they were going to sleep as usual. Shortwhisker looked most anxious, and Firestar wondered if he had deliberately sat down on a sharp-edged stone in order to keep him from dozing off.

The last daylight faded from the sky; the clouds had cleared away and the warriors of StarClan began to appear overhead. After a while Firestar realized that the Clan were becoming restless. He could hear shifting and muttering behind him. Cherrypaw let out a huge yawn and her eyes closed; she jerked awake again as Sparrowpaw prodded her in the side.

Then Firestar heard Clovertail’s voice whispering in his ear. “I’m sorry, Firestar, It’s getting cold, and if you’re sure it’s safe to go to sleep, I’d like to take my kits back to the cave.”

“That’s fine,” he murmured.

As she withdrew, he heard another cat rise and follow her up the stony trail; glancing around he saw that it was Sharpclaw. Shortwhisker and Patchfoot were mewing quietly to each other; after a few heartbeats Shortwhisker moved away, but only to sit by himself on a rock a few fox-lengths farther down the stream. Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw, for all their good intentions, had fallen asleep. Only Leafdapple remained, her gaze fixed on the stars.

Firestar suppressed a sigh. These cats didn’t understand properly what it meant to live the life of a warrior and to follow the warrior code. They would need to learn the importance of the vigil—among so many other things—before they would truly be a Clan. But at least they seemed to trust him when he said they wouldn’t die if they fell asleep tonight.

Perhaps it had been easier to stay awake when they were leading less orderly lives, without dawn patrols and hunting patrols and cave duties to tire them out.

Stretching stiff limbs, he gazed up at Silverpelt’s frosty fire and wondered which of those glittering points of light was the spirit of Skywatcher. Have you found your way to SkyClan’s warrior ancestors? He hoped so; if any cat deserved to walk among the stars, it was Skywatcher.

Moonlight shining through the cave entrance woke

Firestar, and glancing around the den he realized that Shortwhisker wasn’t there. Worried, he poked his head outside and spotted the tabby tom sitting on the rock by the river, where he had gone three nights before when the Clan kept vigil for Skywatcher.

Firestar padded down to join him; as he approached Shortwhisker jumped, and a defensive look flickered in his eyes.

“Did you want me?” he began.

“No, not for anything in particular.” Firestar sprang up onto the rock beside him. “But I get the feeling you’re not happy. If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.”

Shortwhisker edged to one side to make room for him.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he meowed. “Everything’s fine. I’m learning stuff I never imagined before. It’s just… well, there are so many cats. Especially when we’re all sleeping together in the den. I’ve been used to living on my own with my housefolk.”

“I was a kittypet too, you know, and I felt the same when I joined my Clan. But you’ll get used to it,” Firestar told him.

“Soon you’ll wonder how you ever managed to sleep without your Clanmates around you.”

“Maybe,” Shortwhisker meowed, though he didn’t sound convinced.

The tabby cat stared into the river, and Firestar got the sense that he wanted to be alone. He jumped down from the rock and returned to the den, wondering what he could do to make Shortwhisker feel more comfortable with Clan life.

Perhaps pride in his hunting achievements would do the trick.

A couple of days after his talk with Shortwhisker, Firestar returned from a hunting patrol with Sparrowpaw and Leafdapple to find the camp almost deserted. The warriors’ cave was empty, and when the patrol padded down to the riverside, the only cats they found there were Clovertail and her kits.

“Come back, Bouncekit!” Clovertail called, wrapping her tail around the adventurous ginger kit and pulling him back from the edge of the water. Glancing at Firestar, she added, “They’re getting so strong and active. And if they get into trouble, you can be sure Bouncekit is at the bottom of it!”

“They’re doing really well,” Firestar told her. “They’ll soon be ready for mentors. And we’re so short of warriors,” he went on, “that you might have to mentor one of them yourself. It’s not ideal for apprentices to have their mother as a mentor, but—”

Clovertail’s eyes widened in dismay. “I’ve no idea how to mentor an apprentice.”

“Maybe it’s time you started to join the patrols,” Firestar suggested. “I’m sure you’ll learn quickly.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” Clovertail exclaimed. “My kits still need me. Who would keep an eye on them, if I weren’t here? Rockkit, come down off there!” she added, raising her voice to the black kit who had started to scramble up the Rockpile. “You’ll fall into the water!”

Looking at the three mischievous kits, Firestar supposed she had a point. “Where is every cat?” he asked. “The whole gorge seems deserted.”

“They went with Sandstorm,” Clovertail replied, pointing up the gorge with her tail. “She said she was taking them for a training session.” With a glance at her kits to make sure they weren’t misbehaving, she padded over to the newly stocked fresh-kill pile and chose a mouse for herself.

Firestar left her with Sparrowpaw and Leafdapple, and padded up the gorge. A few tail-lengths farther on, the cliff curved inward to leave a wide, flat space with a sandy floor.

Firestar reached it in time to see Cherrypaw pounce on Sandstorm; the two she-cats rolled over and over in a fierce tangle of paws and tails. Sharpclaw, Shortwhisker, and Patchfoot were looking on.

At last Sandstorm broke free and stood up, shaking sand from her pelt. “Well done,” she meowed. “You’ve got that leap and claw action just right. If I were a fox, I wouldn’t fancy meeting you.”

Cherrypaw’s eyes glowed.

“Shortwhisker, you have a go,” Sandstorm went on.

“Pretend I’m a fox that’s trying to get into the Clan nursery.”

Shortwhisker hesitated, glancing around at the other cats, while Sandstorm crouched, her tail tip flicking impatiently.

“Come on,” she urged. “I’ve had time to eat a couple of kits by now.”

Shortwhisker hurled himself across the sandy space, his claws extended, but he had misjudged his leap. He fell short, just in front of Sandstorm, who cuffed him over the ears with both her front paws. Shortwhisker let out a growl of frustration, his tail lashing.

“Don’t worry,” Sandstorm meowed. “Try again.”

“No, I’ve had enough for now.” Shortwhisker backed away.

“I’ll practice on my own for a bit.”

For a heartbeat Sandstorm gave him a questioning stare, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll have another session tomorrow.”

Shortwhisker padded around a curve in the gorge and out of sight. Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm and went after him. Before he caught up with Shortwhisker, the tabby tom realized that some cat was following him, and stopped to wait.

“I’m sorry,” he meowed, not giving Firestar a chance to speak first. “I know I messed up.” He blinked miserably. “I’m never going to get it right. I just feel so awkward, trying to train with all those other cats watching.”

Firestar suppressed a sigh. It was the same problem that Shortwhisker had spoken about before, on the rock by the river. He was finding it hard to adjust to living among a large number of cats.

“Well, it’s the same for every cat,” he began. Shortwhisker tried to interrupt, but Firestar flicked his tail for silence. “I can understand how you feel, but for StarClan’s sake, why didn’t you tell Sandstorm that? She’s not unreasonable. She would give you a one-on-one session if you asked her.”

Shortwhisker’s forepaws shuffled on the sandy ground. “I don’t like to give her any trouble. She works so hard already.”

“I know, but it’s no trouble, honestly. I’ll tell you what,” Firestar went on. “Would you like to practice with me, now?

No cat is watching us.”

Shortwhisker’s eyes brightened. “Would you really?”

“Of course. What move was Sandstorm trying to teach you?”

“She showed us how to leap on top of our enemies. That way, she said, it’s harder for them to get at you.”

“True.” Firestar lashed his tail. “Okay—come and get me.”

He had hardly finished speaking when Shortwhisker leaped at him, snarling. Firestar sidestepped; Shortwhisker hit the ground beside him, but managed to rake his paws down Firestar’s side before he could scramble out of range.

“Good!” Firestar exclaimed.

“I missed you, though,” Shortwhisker mewed ruefully.

Firestar gritted his teeth. Was this cat determined to see the bad side of everything? “But you still got a blow in,” he pointed out. “Try again, and this time keep fighting until I tell you to stop.”

He crouched, waiting for Shortwhisker’s leap. For a moment he relaxed as the tabby’s gaze drifted to a butterfly fluttering past; the leap when it came took him by surprise.

“Sneaky!” He grunted as Shortwhisker landed on top of him, driving the breath from his body. He heard a snarl of satisfaction as Shortwhisker gripped his shoulders with his paws and bit down into his neck fur. Rolling over onto his back, Firestar twisted his haunches, trying to land a blow on Shortwhisker’s belly with his hind paws. Shortwhisker lost his grip, all four paws flailing wildly as he tried to claw Firestar again.

“Okay, that’ll do,” Firestar panted.

Shortwhisker scrambled to his paws. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Firestar’s flank was stinging, but he shook his head. “That was great. You’ve got the makings of a really dangerous fighter.”

Shortwhisker’s eyes glowed with the praise. “Really?”

“Really. There’s no need for you to feel ashamed in front of other cats.”

The tabby tom shrugged. “I’ll get used to it sooner or later, I guess.” He dipped his head to Firestar. “I’ll just practice the moves on my own for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.”

Firestar padded back down the gorge to find that the training session was breaking up, with the other cats heading toward the camp. Sandstorm was sitting in the middle of the training space, grooming sand out of her fur.

“I had a talk with Shortwhisker,” Firestar began, telling her what had happened.

“I’ll make sure he gets the chance to train on his own,” Sandstorm promised. She finished her grooming and stood up. “I’m less worried about him than about Clovertail. She hasn’t been to a single training session yet.”

“She’s still taking care of her kits.”

Sandstorm’s whiskers twitched. “Her kits are old enough to be left for a short while. They could come and watch, for StarClan’s sake!”

“Don’t worry.” Firestar brushed his tail against her shoulder. “The kits will be apprenticed soon, and then Clovertail will see that she has to join in. Remember, she hasn’t been a Clan cat for long.”

Sandstorm sniffed. “When she was made a warrior, she promised to protect and defend the Clan. How does she expect to keep her promise if she never learns to fight?”

“Give her time,” Firestar urged. “She doesn’t understand what the promise means yet. One day she will.”

“And the sooner the better,” Sandstorm muttered.

Together the two cats strolled back to camp. Without conscious decision, their paws led them to the top of the Rockpile. Sandstorm lay down on one side, closing her eyes to slits as the sun beat down on her. Firestar sat beside her, looking down to where the river poured out. Patchfoot was sitting on a rock by the waterside, stretching down to lap. A couple of tail-lengths away, Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw were play-fighting, while their mentors looked on and offered advice. Clovertail and her kits had crossed the river, and the kits were exploring the rocks near the water on that side.

“You know, this reminds me of Sunningrocks,” Sandstorm murmured. “The warm rock, the sound of the river… I wonder what the others are doing back home?”

“Graystripe will keep the Clan safe,” Firestar mewed. “I trust him more than any cat.”

Homesickness flooded over him. Even though he believed Skywatcher’s promise that ThunderClan was safe, he wanted to see his Clan deputy and his best friend more than anything.

Sandstorm stroked his shoulder gently with her tail tip. “I wonder how Sorrelpaw is getting on with Dustpelt.” She let out a soft mrrow of amusement. “I’d love to watch one of their training sessions!”

Firestar echoed her mrrow. “Let’s hope Dustpelt survives—”

He broke off at the sound of a terrified shriek from below.

Springing up, he saw Clovertail standing at the edge of the river, her fur fluffed out so that she looked twice her size.

For a heartbeat he couldn’t locate the kits. Then he spotted Bouncekit, struggling frantically as he was carried along in the surge of water as it flowed out of the cave. He scrabbled with his front paws, letting out a wail of terror that was cut off as his head went under.

By then Firestar was bounding down the rocks with Sandstorm hard on his paws. But Clovertail was faster.

Before they reached the path on the other side of the cave she had plunged into the river; she swam strongly to where her kit had vanished and dived down under the water.

Terror stabbed through Firestar. Would he have to save the mother as well as her kit? Then Clovertail reappeared, gripping Bouncekit firmly by the scruff. Dragging him with her, she reached the side of the pool, where Firestar and Sandstorm leaned over to take the kit while Clovertail hauled herself onto dry ground.

“Bouncekit!” she exclaimed. “Bouncekit, are you all right?”

Shivering, Bouncekit let out a feeble cry and vomited up a mouthful of water. His mother nudged him into a patch of sunlight, where he flopped down like a damp leaf. Clovertail crouched beside him and began licking him fiercely, ruffling his fur the wrong way to dry him out and get him warm again.

Firestar looked around for the other two kits and spotted them edging their way nervously along the path that led underneath the rocks to the cave where the moss grew.

Emerging from the cave they pattered along the riverbank and halted in front of their mother, their eyes wide with fear.

“Will Bouncekit be okay?” Tinykit asked in a small voice.

Clovertail looked up from her licking. Already Bouncekit’s fur was almost dry and he was trying to sit up.

“I don’t know what the three of you were thinking of!” she hissed. “You know very well you shouldn’t have gone into that cave without me.”

“But we knew you wouldn’t let us—” Rockkit began.

“Of course I wouldn’t let you! And now you can see why.”

She gave Bouncekit a few more rough licks; Firestar could tell she was angry only because she had been so terrified. “It’s dangerous under there, and you’re all too small to swim properly. What if I hadn’t been here?”

Bouncekit managed to scramble up and stood groggily on all four paws. “It’s my fault,” he mewed. “It was my idea.”

“I don’t care whose fault it was.” Clovertail rose and shook herself; drops of water spun away from her pelt, spattering Firestar and Sandstorm. “You’re all to go straight back to the nursery. No more play for any of you today.”

Rockkit let out an indignant wail, then broke off as his mother glared at him. “Go on. Now,” she ordered.

Crestfallen, the kits turned away; then Tinykit glanced back. “There’s a cave in there, full of shining moss,” she mewed. “And there were voices talking to us.”

Startled, Firestar stepped forward. “What did they say?”

“They were so quiet that we couldn’t hear,” Bouncekit replied.

“Voices, indeed!” Clovertail scolded. “Haven’t you been naughty enough without making up stories?”

“But we’re not making it up!” Tinykit protested, her white tail quivering. “We did hear voices—lots of them.”

“I don’t want to hear any more about it,” her mother meowed. “You’re never to go into that cave again, and that’s the end of it.” Snorting in annoyance, she began herding her kits back toward the Rockpile.

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm. Skywatcher had told them that the SkyClan medicine cats had shared tongues with their ancestors in the cave where the river flowed out. Could the kits possibly have heard the voices of the SkyClan warriors from so long ago?

He and Sandstorm helped the three kits clamber over the Rockpile, but when they had begun to climb the trail to the nursery he held Clovertail back with his tail on her shoulder.

“Where did you learn to swim like that?”

Clovertail shrugged. “I haven’t always lived in the gorge,” she explained. “I was born farther downriver, near an abandoned Twoleg nest. My mother taught me to swim for fish.”

Firestar wondered if the Twoleg nest was the one he and Sandstorm had passed on their journey.

“One of the Clans in the forest where I live is called RiverClan,” he told Clovertail. “They swim and catch fish all the time. I’ve never heard of any other cats who enjoy swimming, until now. I wonder if you have RiverClan ancestry.”

Clovertail’s eyes widened. “Does that mean I don’t belong to SkyClan?”

The dismay in her tone encouraged Firestar. It showed that at least Clovertail wanted to be a member of SkyClan, and had the seeds of loyalty to her Clanmates and the warrior code.

“No,” Sandstorm meowed, touching her nose to Clovertail’s ear. “You’re a SkyClan cat through and through, because that’s where you’ve chosen to live.”

“Cats can change Clans,” Firestar added, remembering how Brambleclaw’s sister Tawnypelt had followed their father, Tigerstar, into ShadowClan. “It doesn’t happen often, and it doesn’t always work. But being a member of a Clan is about more than just blood.”

“Even more,” Sandstorm went on, “you’ve proved that you have warrior blood in you. You owe it to your ancestors to learn their skills of hunting and fighting so that the warrior code can live on in you.”

Clovertail blinked. “I promised that, didn’t I, when I was made a warrior? I’m starting to understand now what the words mean. But I still don’t think I’ll be much use—not like you and Sharpclaw.”

“You were very brave today,” Firestar assured her. “You saved Bouncekit. You didn’t need any other cat.”

Clovertail looked thoughtful. At last she nodded. “I never thought of it like that,” she mewed. “Okay, I will join in the training from now on.”

“Good.” Firestar rested his tail tip on her shoulder. “You’ll feel you really belong to the Clan when you give something back to it. Think about your kits—they’ll become warriors one day, and you could be a great example for them.”

“We understand it’s not easy,” Sandstorm told the she-cat, giving her a friendly lick. “But I promise you, it’s worth it.”

“And you needn’t worry about your kits,” Firestar added.

“They’ll be apprentices soon, and until then we’ll make sure some cat keeps an eye on them while you’re training. No more expeditions into that cave!”

On the following morning, Firestar took Sharpclaw, Cherrypaw, and Patchfoot on the dawn patrol. When they returned, he saw Sparrowpaw, Shortwhisker, and Leafdapple huddled together at the foot of the Rockpile, mewing urgently to one another. Sandstorm sat a tail-length away, a disgusted expression on her face.

Firestar glanced at Sharpclaw. “What’s all that about?”

The ginger tom shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

Firestar padded forward until he came up to the little group. “Hi, is everything okay?”

The cats all turned worried faces toward him.

“We were talking about the Whispering Cave,” Shortwhisker told him.

Firestar stared. “The what?”

“The cave under the rocks.” Sandstorm got up, her eyes narrowed. “That’s what they’re calling it now. Those silly kits have spread the story about the voices, and—”

“There must be something down there,” Sparrowpaw interrupted. “Rockkit said he saw big shiny cats with huge claws. Their eyes glowed like the moon and their teeth were bigger than a fox’s.”

Patchfoot looked horrified. “Really?”

“Kits will be kits, I know.” Leafdapple twitched her tail. “But they looked terrified! Would they really make all that up?”

“Hmm…” Firestar could tell that the kits had improved their story since their visit to the cave the day before.

“Suppose these big cats come out?” Shortwhisker mewed.

Sandstorm rolled her eyes. “Suppose hedgehogs fly!”

“If there is something in there, we ought to deal with it.”

Sharpclaw flexed his claws. “We should go in and attack before they have a chance to attack us.”

Firestar lifted one paw to stall him. “We will go in there, but not until later on. And I don’t believe there’s anything to be afraid of. It’s time for hunting patrols,” he went on.

“Sharpclaw, you can lead one, and Leafdapple the other.”

The SkyClan cats still gave him doubtful looks as they moved away. Sandstorm lagged behind, drawing closer to him.

“What do you think is down there?” she murmured.

“Skywatcher said that the SkyClan medicine cats used to share tongues with their warrior ancestors in that cave.”

Firestar nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping. Every Clan needs a special place, like the Moonstone, and this cave could be SkyClan’s. It worries me that the new Clan doesn’t have a medicine cat yet. Maybe if we go into the cave tonight, SkyClan’s warrior ancestors will show us which cat to choose.”

Sandstorm’s eyes gleamed. “Good idea. We can’t stay here forever, waiting for a medicine cat to show up.”

Firestar pushed away the feeling of homesickness that threatened to cloud his thoughts. This wasn’t his Clan, but he couldn’t leave until he was sure they could survive without him, and finding a medicine cat was a big part of that.

“SkyClan’s warrior ancestors must be out there somewhere,” he meowed, clawing at the sandy ground.

When night had fallen Firestar led his Clan into the cave beneath the rocks. The moon was a thin claw scratch in the sky, and starlight dappled the surface of the river.

Every Clan member followed as he edged along the narrow path beside the water—all except Clovertail. She had stayed to look after her kits; she still refused to believe that there was anything in the cave, and had given Rockkit, Bouncekit, and Tinykit a good scolding for frightening every cat.

“Be careful!” Firestar called, glancing back over his shoulder. “Cherrypaw, no fooling about! You could easily slip on these wet rocks, and we haven’t got Clovertail to pull you out!”

“There’s something shining up ahead.” A quavering voice came from somewhere behind Firestar; it sounded like Shortwhisker.

He was right. Firestar could see a pale light flowing from the cave, reflecting on the surface of the water. “It’s okay,” he replied. “It’s not big scary cats, I promise.”

Setting his paws down carefully, he reached the flattened path that led along the side of the underground river and stood back to let the rest of the Clan file inside.

Sandstorm brought up the rear. “See?” she meowed. “It’s just moss.”

“And it’s beautiful,” Firestar added. “Look how the light ripples over the roof.”

The SkyClan cats gazed around, their eyes reflecting the eerie light.

“Hey!” Sharpclaw meowed. “We’re scary cats whose eyes glow like the moon.”

Leafdapple let out a mrrow of amusement; Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw exchanged glances, looking ashamed for believing the kits’ story.

“Skywatcher told us that your SkyClan ancestors called this the Shining Cave,” Firestar told them. “It would have been a special place for them.”

But the Whispering Cave might be a better name, he thought. He strained to hear any message from SkyClan’s warrior ancestors, but all he could hear was the lap of the swift black water and the mews of his Clanmates.

“What was special about it?” Sharpclaw asked.

Firestar gave each of the SkyClan cats a searching glance before he replied. Skywatcher had told them that this cave was a special place for medicine cats, but Firestar didn’t want to destroy their confidence by telling the new Clanmates that they still needed a vitally important Clan member before they could be a real Clan. Instead he watched to see if any cat could hear voices; to his disappointment, they were gazing warily around, respectful, but showing no sign of understanding the cave’s deeper meaning—not even Leafdapple, who had seemed sensitive enough to be a potential medicine cat.

“We’ll find a use for the cave when it’s needed,” he told Sharpclaw, stifling a sigh. “All in good time.”

The ginger tom gave Firestar a look from narrowed eyes, but said nothing more, only turning to lead the way along the ledge and out into the open again.

Firestar waited until every other cat had left before listening one last time for the voices the kits had heard. The hair on his pelt began to rise; perhaps, very faint and far away, there was something, but he couldn’t be sure. How could he put the new Clan in touch with the spirits of the former SkyClan when he couldn’t hear them either?

“Are you there?” he mewed aloud, hoping that SkyClan’s warrior ancestors could hear him. “If you are, show yourselves to us. And for the new Clan’s sake, please send us a medicine cat.”