Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 34

The sun was edging above the cliffs when Firestar and Sandstorm padded down into the gorge again. Rainfur’s body still lay at the foot of the Rockpile, but the Clan were relaxing from their vigil; only Petalnose remained close to him, her two kits sleeping beside her. Echosong sat at the entrance to her cave, piles of herbs around her as she examined Patchfoot’s fresh wounds.

Firestar knew he should get his own wounds treated, but before he could head for the medicine cat’s den, Leafdapple bounded over to him. Firestar saw that her eyes were troubled, and a pang of alarm shot through him. Surely there couldn’t be more danger?

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“It’s Shortwhisker.” Leafdapple glanced back to where the tabby tom was standing beside Sharpclaw, Cherrypaw, and Sparrowpaw. “He says he wants to leave the Clan. He wants to go back to his housefolk.”

“What?” Firestar brushed past her and headed for the little knot of cats.

“Are you completely mouse-brained?” Sharpclaw was arguing as he came up. “You stuck with us through all the danger from the rats, and now that we’ve shown them this is our home, you want to leave? You’ve got bees in your brain!”

Shortwhisker flinched and turned to Firestar with a look of relief. “I’m sorry,” he began. “But the rat attack just showed me that I’m not cut out for life in a Clan.”

“You did your duty like a warrior,” Firestar meowed.

“But I was scared,” Shortwhisker protested. “Scared to the roots of my pelt.”

“And you think the rest of us weren’t?” Sharpclaw growled.

Leafdapple padded up and touched Sharpclaw’s shoulder with her tail tip. “Don’t be angry,” she mewed. “We can’t force him to understand.” Turning to Shortwhisker, she added, “We’ll respect your decision. But all the same, we wish you would stay.”

“We’ll miss you,” Cherrypaw told him.

Shortwhisker still faced Firestar, and addressed his words to him. “I was scared,” he repeated. “And I knew that I didn’t want to give up my life for the sake of my Clan.” He hung his head. “I’m a coward, and selfish,” he murmured. “But I can’t change the way I feel.”

“You’re not selfish or a coward,” Firestar told him. “The warrior code isn’t right for every cat.” He remembered his friend Ravenpaw, forced to leave ThunderClan for fear of Tigerstar, and now living happily with Barley on the Twoleg farm near Highstones. “You must choose the path that suits you best.”

“Then that’s the path of a kittypet.” Shortwhisker glanced around the circle of his friends, and though his eyes were regretful, his voice was certain.

“We’re still your friends, Shortwhisker—” Sparrowpaw began.

“That’s not my name anymore,” Shortwhisker interrupted him. “I guess you’d better call me Hutch again.”

For the last time he climbed the trail to the top of the cliff; Firestar, Leafdapple, and Sharpclaw followed him. Hutch pushed his way through the belt of undergrowth and paused at the edge of the scrubland.

“Good-bye,” he meowed. “I’m proud to have been a SkyClan cat; I really am.”

“Good-bye.” Cherrypaw nudged him with her shoulder.

“Make sure you keep that Oscar in his place.”

“And tell the other kittypets about SkyClan,” Sparrowpaw added.

Leafdapple dipped her head. “Farewell, Hutch. Don’t forget to come and visit us. You helped save SkyClan, and you’ll always be welcome here.”

Hutch brightened a little. “I won’t forget any of you—especially you, Firestar,” he added, glancing at the flame-colored tom. “You’ve taught me so much.”

“I’ve learned from you, too,” Firestar replied, meaning it.

“May StarClan light your path.”

The two toms touched noses; then Hutch turned and began to make his way toward the distant walls of the Twolegplace. His head and tail were held high, and he didn’t look back.

“So that’s the end,” Sharpclaw murmured, looking after him. “The last echo of our battle against the rats.”

“No,” Leafdapple meowed. “There’s one more thing to do.”

Firestar and Sharpclaw exchanged a mystified glance, and followed her down the trail to the warriors’ cave. Leafdapple stood facing the stone trunk with its ancient claw marks: the marks of many cats and the tiny claw marks of the rats scored across them as a sign of their long-ago victory.

“This,” Leafdapple meowed. Extending her claws, she raked them down the stone, then again and a third time, until the rat scratches were obliterated under deep vertical scars.

The record of the first defeat was gone.

“Now the gorge belongs to SkyClan again,” the tabby she-cat announced.

The days that followed the battle were gray with clouds.

Stiff breezes blew with a tang of rain, and one morning Firestar emerged from the warriors’ den to find the rocks rimed with frost. He stood sniffing the cold air until Sandstorm appeared, fluffing up her pelt against the claws of the wind.

“We should leave soon,” she murmured, with a glance behind to make sure she wasn’t rousing the sleeping warriors.

“We can’t travel in leaf-bare. It’ll be too cold to sleep out, and there’ll be precious little prey.”

“There’s a while yet before leaf-bare,” Firestar argued.

Sandstorm fixed him with a glinting green gaze. “Don’t you trust SkyClan to survive without you?”

“It’s not that,” Firestar protested.

“The rats aren’t a threat anymore,” Sandstorm reminded him.

“I know, but the rats aren’t the only problem. Will the SkyClan warriors be able to get along with one another without us to help them with patrols and duties? What about the kittypets in the Twolegplace… there could be trouble with them. And it’ll be harder for them to find prey as the weather gets colder.”

Sandstorm scraped her claws along the rock. “Firestar, will you listen to yourself? Every Clan has problems like those.

Every cat has to work together to follow the warrior code, and if they do that they’ll be safe and well fed. The SkyClan cats know that now. You’ve done your part; you’ve found them a medicine cat—now it’s up to them.”

Firestar knew that she was right. If he waited until he could be sure of unbroken peace and an easy life for SkyClan, he would never leave. Yet he knew too that he still had one more task to do.

“We can’t leave yet,” he meowed. “Not until we can be sure that SkyClan can reach their warrior ancestors. And part of that is finding out which cat StarClan has chosen to be leader.”

Sandstorm blew out a long sigh, riffling her whiskers. “I suppose you’re right. But I hope it’s soon; that’s all.”

Sandstorm roused Leafdapple; the two cats collected Sparrowpaw and left for the dawn patrol. Firestar padded back into the warriors’ den and found Patchfoot stirring.

“Hunting patrol?” he suggested.

Patchfoot sat up eagerly. “Sure. I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ll join you.” Sharpclaw raised his head from his mossy nest across the cave. “If that’s okay.”

“I’d rather you led a separate patrol,” Firestar told him. “I want to take Cherrypaw and watch her hunting action, without her mentor breathing down her neck. It’s time she and Sparrowpaw were made warriors.”

“Fine.” Sharpclaw’s eyes gleamed with approval. “I reckon they’re ready, too. I’ll take Clovertail and Rain…” His voice trailed off. “Just Clovertail, I guess.”

Firestar led his patrol downriver, across the spur of rock and into the trees. Leaves whirled in the air; only the last brittle remnants remained on the branches. The cold weather was here, and prey would be much scarcer through the long leaf-bare moons. Yet SkyClan was still small; if they were careful they should be able to feed themselves.

He watched Cherrypaw stalk a squirrel across a stretch of open ground and bring it down with a mighty leap as it tried to escape up a tree. She was easily ready to become a warrior, but Firestar held back from telling her that. He wanted the new leader of SkyClan to give her and Sparrowpaw their warrior names—as soon as there was a sign from SkyClan’s warrior ancestors about which cat that would be.

The three cats hunted until they had all the fresh-kill they could carry. There was no sense now of hostile eyes among the undergrowth, no scent or sound to suggest that the rats were still here. SkyClan had made this place their own.

Firestar had returned to camp and was depositing his fresh-kill on the pile when Echosong padded up to him.

“Firestar, I need to talk to you.” Her green eyes were puzzled. “Will you come to my den for a moment?”

As she spoke, Firestar was irresistibly reminded of Spottedleaf and Cinderpelt. Echosong fit exactly into the role of a medicine cat now, though he knew her formal acceptance was another ceremony that rested in the paws of SkyClan’s warrior ancestors.

She didn’t speak again until they were sitting in the outer cave, with the scents of sweet herbs all around them. “I was sorting herbs in here,” she began, “and I had a… I think you would call it a vision.” Looking almost embarrassed, she licked one small gray paw and drew it over her ear.

Firestar’s paws tingled, but he made himself remain calm.

“What was it?”

“I thought I was gathering herbs in the wood above the gorge. I was alone, and yet I felt so safe and protected! It was as if kind eyes were all around me, watching over me…”

“Go on,” Firestar encouraged.

“The sun was shining, as if it was a warm day in green-leaf.

And the shadows of leaves were dappling the ground all around me, so perfectly, like pebbles on the riverbed. I noticed them especially, because the leaves are dying now.

The pattern of light and shade swirled around me, even though the leaves above my head were still. And then I was back here. It wasn’t a dream, Firestar,” she insisted. “I was awake all the time. Do you think it means anything, or am I making a fuss about nothing?”

“StarClan send their signs for a reason,” Firestar replied.

“All we have to do is work out what that is.” He sat silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed to slits, picturing the small tabby cat in the sunlit forest. “Warm sun. It’s leaf-bare now, but there were leaves dappling the ground…” he murmured.

“Leafdapple!” Echosong burst out. “My warrior ancestors were telling me something about Leafdapple.”

Every hair in Firestar’s pelt rose. This must be the sign SkyClan had been waiting for! Echosong’s vision showed that the Clan’s warrior ancestors really were watching over them.

Even more important, they had sent the sign to Echosong and not to him. She was a true medicine cat now, with a connection to the starry spirits that would help her guide her Clan in the moons to come.

The puzzled look gradually cleared from Echosong’s eyes.

“What this Clan needs more than anything is a leader,” she murmured. “Do you think they were showing me which cat it should be?”

Firestar padded over to her and gave the top of her head an affectionate lick. He was purring so hard that he could hardly speak. “Yes, I think they were,” he murmured. “Leafdapple will be the leader of SkyClan.”

Leafdapple paused with a bite of fresh-kill still between her jaws, her eyes wide with shock. “Me?” She swallowed rapidly. “Leader of SkyClan? Echosong, I think you’ve got bees in your brain!”

As soon as the dawn patrol had returned to rest and eat, Firestar had taken Sandstorm aside to tell her about the sign.

Then he and Echosong had found Leafdapple eating by the fresh-kill pile to give the news to her.

“It’s got nothing to do with Echosong,” he assured the astonished she-cat. “Your warrior ancestors have chosen you.”

“But—but I thought it would be Sharpclaw!”

So did I, Firestar thought. Yet it was Leafdapple who had shown the greater sensitivity to everything that the warrior code meant. She had rallied the Clan in the battle with the rats, and she had understood why Hutch wanted to leave the Clan to be a kittypet again.

Leafdapple took a step back, shaking her head emphatically. “Oh, no, Firestar. I can’t do this. Really, I can’t.”

“I never felt good enough to be Clan leader, either,” Firestar confessed. “I was Clan deputy, so of course I’d thought about being leader one day, but when Bluestar died and I had to take her place, I didn’t feel that I was ready. But my Clan needed me. And now SkyClan needs you.”

Leafdapple seemed to weigh what he was telling her. Then she turned to Echosong. “What do you think?”

Echosong nodded encouragingly. “Our warrior ancestors sent me a vision. I know this is right for you, Leafdapple.”

“But I don’t understand about our warrior ancestors,” Leafdapple protested. “I don’t even know that they exist.

And even if they do”—she forestalled Echosong’s protest—“why would they choose me? I’m nothing special.”

“I don’t think you know how special you are,” Firestar told her. “Believe me, Leafdapple, you can do this.”

Leafdapple’s amber gaze rested on him for several heartbeats. Then she bowed her head. “What do I have to do?” she asked. “Do I have to call myself Leafstar now? And do I have nine lives?”

“You’re not a leader yet,” Firestar warned her. “StarClan will give you your nine lives and your name.”

“When? How?” Leafdapple looked around as if she expected to see starry warriors stalking up to her in the full light of day.

“Tonight,” Firestar meowed. “Your warrior ancestors are watching over you, and we’ll meet with them tonight.”

Under the frosty light of a half-moon, Firestar led the way up the trail to the Skyrock. Leafdapple padded behind him, and Echosong brought up the rear.

Firestar wasn’t sure that he was doing the right thing. He had no doubts about Leafdapple as the destined leader of SkyClan—Echosong’s vision seemed too clear for that—but he wondered if he should have taken Leafdapple to the Whispering Cave for her ceremony. That was the nearest the SkyClan cats had to the Moonstone, where the leaders of the forest Clans received their nine lives and their name. Yet tonight the stars seemed particularly bright, and as he looked up they seemed to shift for a moment into the shape of the SkyClan leader’s face, as if he were saying, “Come.”

Firestar leaped the cleft and paced into the middle of the Skyrock. Starlight glinted on its surface and the wind buffeted his fur. Leafdapple bent her head into it as she padded across to join him.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“We wait,” Firestar replied. “Your warrior ancestors will come to us.”

He hoped he was right. He knew of only the SkyClan ancestor who walked these skies, along with Skywatcher. But Leafdapple needed nine cats who would each give her a life.

He remembered the pain and terror and wonder of his own leadership ceremony, when the clearing at Fourtrees had been lined with starry spirits. Even if they came to her, would Leafdapple have enough strength to cope? There was only one way to find out.

“Are you sure they’ll come? Shouldn’t we tell them we’re here?” Echosong’s voice was eager, her silver tabby fur fluffed up with excitement.

“They’ll know,” Firestar replied. “Lie down by me,” he directed Leafdapple, settling himself on the rock with his paws tucked under his chest.

Hesitantly Leafdapple obeyed him; Firestar could feel a suppressed quivering running all through her body. Echosong crouched on her other side, pressing reassuringly against her fur.

“Don’t be afraid,” the medicine cat whispered. “I know that our warrior ancestors mean you nothing but good.”

Leafdapple still looked unsettled.

“You must trust your warrior ancestors,” Firestar told her.

Leafdapple turned her head and gazed at him with eyes that glowed silver in the moonlight. “No,” she meowed. “I trust you.”