Firestar’s Quest

Chapter 3

Though Firestar didn’t dream again that night, he slept badly, and he still felt tired when he emerged from his den the next morning. He blinked in the strong sunlight to see Ashfur padding across the clearing toward Brambleclaw. “Your vigil’s over,” Firestar heard him meow. “Come on; I’ll find you somewhere to sleep.”

They disappeared into the warriors’ den while Firestar crossed the clearing and slipped down the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt’s den.

The gray-furred medicine cat was sitting outside the cleft in the rock, turning over some herbs with one paw.

Brightheart sat beside her and bent her head forward to give the leaves an interested sniff.

“This is borage,” Cinderpelt explained. “You should start eating some now, so when your kits come you’ll have plenty of milk.”

Brightheart licked the herbs up, making a face as she swallowed them. “They taste as bitter as mouse bile. But I don’t mind,” she added hastily. “I want to do my best for my kits.”

“You’ll be fine,” Cinderpelt assured her. “Come back every morning for some more herbs, and call me right away if you think the kits are coming. I don’t think it’ll be long now.”

“Thanks, Cinderpelt.” Brightheart dipped her head to the medicine cat and padded across the clearing, passing Firestar at the end of the tunnel.

“Make sure you get plenty of rest,” he meowed as she made her way back into the main camp.

Cinderpelt dusted a few scraps of borage from her paws and limped into the clearing to meet Firestar. Once she had been his apprentice, but an accident beside the Thunderpath had injured her leg and made it impossible for her to be a warrior. Firestar knew how hard it had been for her to give up the future she had always dreamed of; he still blamed himself for not taking better care of her.

“Cinderpelt, I have to talk to you,” he began.

Before the medicine cat could reply, a wail sounded from behind Firestar. “Cinderpelt! Look at my paw!”

“Great StarClan, what now?” the medicine cat muttered.

Sorrelpaw, the smallest of the apprentices, lurched into the clearing on three legs, holding out her forepaw. “Look, Cinderpelt!”

The medicine cat bent her head to examine the paw.

Firestar could see that a thorn was driven deep into the pad.

“Honestly, Sorrelpaw,” Cinderpelt mewed, “from the noise you were making I thought a fox must have bitten your paw off. It’s only a thorn.”

“But it hurts!” the apprentice protested, her amber eyes wide.

Cinderpelt tutted. “Lie down and hold your paw out.”

Firestar watched as the medicine cat expertly gripped the shank of the thorn in her teeth and tugged it out. A gush of blood followed it.

“It’s bleeding!” Sorrelpaw exclaimed.

“So it is,” Cinderpelt agreed calmly. “Give it a good lick.”

“Every cat picks up thorns now and again,” Firestar told the apprentice as her tongue rasped busily across her pad.

“You’ll probably pick up a good many more before you’re an elder.”

“I know.” Sorrelpaw sprang to her paws again. “Thanks, Cinderpelt. It’s fine now, so I’ll go back to the others. We’re training in the sandy hollow.” Her eyes shone and she flexed her claws. “Sandstorm’s going to show me how to fight foxes!”

Without waiting for a response she charged off down the fern tunnel.

Cinderpelt’s blue eyes gleamed. “Sandstorm’s got her paws full with that one,” she commented.

“You’ve got your paws full yourself,” meowed Firestar. “Is it always this busy?”

“Busy is good,” Cinderpelt replied. “Just as long as there’s no blood being spilled. It’s great, being able to use my skills to care for my Clan.”

Her eyes shone with enthusiasm, and once again Firestar was reminded of the apprentice she had been. What a warrior she would have made! But her accident had diverted all her energy, like a clear, sparkling stream, into the path of a medicine cat.

“Okay, Firestar,” she prompted. “You’re busy too, so you haven’t come here just to gossip. What can I do for you?”

Twitching her ears for Firestar to follow her, she made her way to the cleft in the rock and began to put away the remaining stems of borage. Firestar sat beside her, suddenly reluctant to tell any cat about the strange visions he had seen.

“I’ve been having these dreams…”

Cinderpelt shot him a swift glance; usually only medicine cats received dreams from StarClan, but she had learned long ago that their warrior ancestors came to Firestar too.

“It wasn’t a dream from StarClan,” Firestar went on. “At least, I don’t think it was.” He described the mist-shrouded moorland where the desperate wailing of cats had surrounded him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Cinderpelt about the pale gray cat he had seen in the ravine when he was awake, or the reflection in the puddle and the cats struggling in the river. They could be explained away too easily: odd cloud formations, tricks of the light, or the pattern of starlight in the dark water.

Cinderpelt finished tidying the herbs and came to sit beside him, her eyes thoughtful. “You’ve had this dream twice?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I think it’s more than a tough bit of fresh-kill stuck in your belly.” She blinked several times and added, “That many cats could only belong to a Clan… and you’re sure it wasn’t WindClan?”

“Positive. The moor wasn’t anywhere in WindClan territory, I’m sure of it, and I didn’t recognize any of the voices.

Besides, there’s been no report of trouble in WindClan.”

Cinderpelt nodded. “And none in any of the other Clans, either. Do you think you’re remembering the battle with BloodClan?”

“No, Cinderpelt, what I heard wasn’t battle yowling. It was cats wailing as if something was terribly wrong.” Firestar shuddered. “I wanted to help them, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Cinderpelt brushed her tail across his shoulder. “I could give you some poppyseed,” she suggested. “At least that would give you a good night’s sleep.”

“Thanks, but no. It’s not sleep I want. It’s an explanation.”

Cinderpelt didn’t look surprised. “That’s something I can’t give you, not right now,” she meowed. “But I’ll let you know if StarClan show me anything. And be sure to come and tell me if you have any more dreams.”

Firestar wasn’t certain he wanted to do that. Cinderpelt had enough to keep her busy without worrying about him.

“I’m probably making a fuss about nothing,” he told her. “I’m sure the dreams will go away if I stop thinking about them.”

He hadn’t managed to convince himself, and as he padded away through the fern tunnel with the medicine cat’s pale blue gaze following him, he was sure that he hadn’t convinced Cinderpelt, either.

On the second night after his talk with Cinderpelt, Firestar had the dream again. He stood on the pathless moorland, straining to make out the blurred shapes that were all around him, yet never close enough to see clearly.

“What do you want?” he called. “What can I do to help you?”

But there was no reply. Firestar was beginning to feel as if he were doomed to stumble across this mist-shrouded moor forever, calling out to cats who could not or would not hear him.

The sun had risen high above the trees when he woke the next morning. A warm wind ruffled his fur as he stepped out into the clearing. Sootpaw was hurrying across the clearing with a huge ball of fresh moss for the elders’ bedding.

Ferncloud and Brightheart were sunning themselves at the entrance to the nursery, watching Shrewkit and Spiderkit play-fighting.

Firestar stiffened at the sound of high-pitched caterwauling coming from outside the camp. Somewhere close by, a cat was in terrible distress. Had his dream followed him into the waking world? Or was he still asleep, trapped in the same dream?

He forced his legs to carry him over to the gorse tunnel.

But before he reached the entrance to the camp, Cloudtail and Brackenfur appeared, supporting Longtail, whose jaws were stretched wide, letting out loud wails of anguish.

Cloudtail’s apprentice, Rainpaw, followed them into the camp, his fur bristling with shock.

Longtail’s eyes were closed; blood welled from beneath the swollen lids and spattered over his pale tabby fur. “I can’t see!

I can’t see!” he wailed.

“What happened?” Firestar demanded.

“We were out hunting,” Brackenfur explained. “Longtail caught a rabbit, and it turned on him and scratched his eyes.”

“Don’t worry,” Cloudtail reassured Longtail. “We’ll get you to Cinderpelt right away. She’ll fix you up.”

Firestar followed them as they guided Longtail across the clearing and through the tunnel of ferns. Cloudtail called for Cinderpelt, who appeared from the cleft in the rock and limped rapidly to Longtail’s side. “How did this happen?”

Brackenfur repeated what he had told Firestar, while Cinderpelt rested her tail gently on Longtail’s shoulder.

The tabby warrior’s wailing had died away into shallow, rasping breaths. He was shivering violently. “I can’t see,” he whispered. “Cinderpelt, am I going to be blind?”

“I can’t tell until I’ve examined your eyes,” Cinderpelt replied. Firestar knew she wouldn’t try to comfort Longtail with a lie. “Come over here and sit down in the ferns where I can get a proper look at you.”

She led him to a clump of bracken just outside the opening to her den. Longtail slumped onto his side, still panting hard.

“Rainpaw, bring me some moss soaked in water,” Cinderpelt directed, “as fast as you can.” The apprentice glanced at his mentor, and when Cloudtail nodded he sped off, leaving the ferns of the tunnel waving behind him. “The rest of you can go,” the medicine cat added, “and let Longtail have a bit of peace and quiet.”

Cloudtail and Brackenfur turned to leave, but Firestar padded over to Cinderpelt, who was calming Longtail with one paw stroking his flank.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Just go with the others and let me get on with it,” Cinderpelt replied, her tart tones reminding Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang. As Firestar turned away, she added, “Oh, you might ask Cloudtail to let me have Rainpaw for the rest of the day. An apprentice to fetch and carry would be useful.”

“Good idea,” Firestar replied. “I’ll tell him.”

His heart was torn with pity for Longtail. The tabby warrior had challenged Firestar when he first arrived in the forest, and he had been far too close to Tigerstar. But when the murderous deputy’s plans became clear, Longtail had realized where his true loyalties lay, and since then he had become one of Firestar’s most trusted warriors.

When Firestar reached the clearing he saw Cloudtail and Brackenfur standing with Brightheart, who was anxiously questioning them. Mousefur and Graystripe had come out of the warriors’ den to find out what was going on.

Firestar padded over to Cloudtail and passed on Cinderpelt’s request about Rainpaw.

“Sure,” the white warrior meowed. “It’s all good training for Rainpaw, anyway.”

“What’s going to happen to Longtail?” Brightheart fretted.

“Will he really go blind?”

“Cinderpelt doesn’t know yet,” Firestar replied. “Let’s hope the damage isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“I was lucky,” Brightheart murmured, half to herself. “At least I’ve still got one eye.”

Glancing around at their troubled faces, Firestar tried to give them something else to think about. “What about the hunting patrol?” he asked Cloudtail and Brackenfur. “You’d better carry on, and I’ll come with you. Whatever happens, the Clan still needs to be fed.”

“I’ll lead another,” Graystripe offered. “Mousefur, are you up for it?”

The wiry brown warrior nodded, lashing her tail. “I’ll fetch Dustpelt,” she meowed.

As she loped off toward the warriors’ den, Firestar cast a final glance back at the fern tunnel. Everything was quiet now in Cinderpelt’s clearing. “Oh, StarClan,” he whispered, “don’t let Longtail lose his sight.”

That night Firestar was too restless to settle in his den. He was afraid the dream would return. He had come to dread the unknown moorland and the cries of distress from cats he had no power to help.

As he paced the clearing, he heard a murmuring sound coming from Cinderpelt’s den, and brushed through the fern tunnel to find out what it was. Longtail lay in the ferns outside the split rock. His eyes were closed, but he looked too tense to be asleep. Sticky tears seeped from beneath his eye-lids.

Cinderpelt sat beside him, stroking his forehead lightly with the tip of her tail, murmuring to him words of comfort that a mother might use to soothe an injured kit. She glanced up as Firestar appeared.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asked.

Her blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Firestar shrugged and went to sit beside her. “I couldn’t sleep. How’s Longtail?”

“I’m not sure.” Cinderpelt dabbed up a pawful of chewed-up herbs from a leaf beside her and patted them gently onto Longtail’s eyes. Firestar recognized the sharp scent of marigold. “The bleeding has stopped, thank StarClan,” the medicine cat went on, “but his eyes are still very swollen.”

“Firestar.” Longtail raised his head, though he kept his eyes shut tight. “What will happen to me if I go blind? If I can’t be a warrior anymore?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Firestar mewed firmly.

“Whatever happens, there’ll always be a place for you in ThunderClan.”

Longtail let out a long sigh and lowered his head again.

Firestar thought he had relaxed a little, and hoped he would be able to sleep.

“Listen, Firestar.” Cinderpelt dabbed some more of the marigold poultice onto Longtail’s eyes as she spoke. “As your medicine cat, I’m telling you to get some rest.” More quietly, she added, “Your dream isn’t going to go away; you know that as well as I do. You need to find out what it means, and the only way to do that is to dream it over and over until you figure it out.”

Firestar hesitated; he wasn’t sure he agreed. Dreaming hadn’t told him much so far. “All right,” he mewed reluctantly.

“But if StarClan are trying to tell me something, I wish they would make it clearer.”

Obeying Cinderpelt, he padded back to his den. But this time he slept without dreaming at all.

Early the next morning he went back to the medicine cat’s den, taking her a squirrel from the fresh-kill pile. He found Cinderpelt still sitting beside Longtail, who was curled up asleep.

“Have you been here all night?” Firestar asked, dropping the squirrel at Cinderpelt’s side.

“Where else would I be? Longtail needs me. Don’t worry; I’m not tired.” She contradicted herself by stretching her jaws in an enormous yawn.

“Last night you told me to get some sleep,” Firestar pointed out. “Now, as your Clan leader, I’m telling you. It won’t do Longtail any good if our medicine cat gets ill.”

“But I’m worried about him.” Cinderpelt lowered her voice, even though Longtail was asleep. “I think his eyes are infected. The rabbit’s claws must have been dirty.”

Firestar peered at Longtail’s closed eyes. He couldn’t see much difference from the night before: they were still red and swollen, with sticky fluid and marigold pulp crusted around them.

“That’s bad news,” he mewed. “All the same, I think you should eat that fresh-kill and then get some rest. I’ll send Rainpaw to you again,” he added persuasively. “He can keep an eye on things and call you if Longtail wakes up.”

Cinderpelt rose to her paws and arched her back in a long stretch. “Okay,” she agreed. “But will you tell Rainpaw to fetch some more marigold first? There’s plenty near the top of the ravine.”

“Provided I see you eating that squirrel.”

Cinderpelt crouched down beside the squirrel, only to look up at Firestar again before she started to eat. “I’m so scared that I won’t be able to save Longtail’s sight,” she confessed.

Firestar gently touched his nose to her ear. “Every cat in the Clan knows you’re doing your best. Longtail knows it most of all.”

“What if my best isn’t good enough?”

“It will be. ThunderClan couldn’t have a better medicine cat.”

Cinderpelt sighed and shook her head before beginning to gulp down the squirrel. Firestar knew that he was wasting his breath trying to reassure her. If Longtail did go blind, Cinderpelt would blame herself, just as she had done when Graystripe’s mate, Silverstream, died bearing their kits.

Resting his tail briefly on the medicine cat’s shoulder, he went to look for Rainpaw.

Firestar led the way up the slope toward Fourtrees. Rain had fallen earlier that day, and drops clung to his pelt as he brushed through the long grass. But now the clouds had vanished and the full moon floated in a clear sky, surrounded by the glitter of Silverpelt.

The warriors Firestar had chosen to attend the Gathering followed hard on his paws. Brambleclaw was bounding along at his shoulder, his eyes gleaming as if he could hardly stop himself from taking the lead and racing up the slope.

“Calm down,” Graystripe meowed to him. “It’s not like this is your first Gathering.”

“No, but I was always an apprentice before,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “Graystripe, do you think Firestar will tell all the Clans that I’ve been made a warrior?”

Firestar glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, of course I will.”

“But they might not believe it unless you stop behaving like an apprentice,” Graystripe warned, flicking Brambleclaw’s ear with his tail.

Firestar could already hear the sound of many cats ahead, and he picked out the scents of WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan on the warm breeze. He quickened his pace. His dreams were still haunted by unfamiliar voices raised in mis-ery, and it would be good to spend time among cats he knew well. He wanted to deal with problems he had met before, instead of struggling to find out what the strange cats wanted from him.

But as he climbed the last slope to the edge of the hollow, he came to an abrupt stop. For a couple of heartbeats he was convinced that cats were rushing toward him, many cats, a whole Clanful. He blinked, and saw nothing but shadows.

But the scent he had tasted in his dreams flowed around him, stronger now. Behind his eyes he had an impression of flattened ears and ruffled fur, as if the cats were fleeing from a Gathering that had broken up in disorder.

A moment later the sensation vanished, and Firestar was aware of Dustpelt bumping into him from behind.

“For StarClan’s sake,” the brown tabby warrior grumbled, “do you have to stop dead like that? Any cat would think you’d forgotten the way.”

“Sorry,” Firestar mewed.

His paws still tingling, he took the last few paces that brought him to the top of the hollow. In front of him the four great oaks rustled their branches, sending shifting patterns of light and shadow over the cats in the clearing. He paused for a few heartbeats longer than usual, searching for any other traces of the strange cats. But there was nothing to tell him who they were, and no trace of the pale warrior whose reflection he had seen in the puddle. Forcing himself to concentrate on the Gathering, he raised his tail to signal to his Clan and plunged into the bushes.

When Firestar reached the clearing, Brambleclaw raced past him and stopped in front of a tortoiseshell she-cat sitting a few tail-lengths away. “Tawnypaw!” he panted. “Guess what?”

His sister stared back at him. “Tawnypaw? Who’s she? I’m Tawny pelt now, if you don’t mind.”

Brambleclaw’s tail curled up in delight. “You are? That’s great! So am I—I mean, I’m a warrior too. My name’s Brambleclaw.”

Tawnypelt purred and twined her tail with her brother’s.

“Congratulations!”

Just beyond them, Graystripe was greeting his son and daughter, Stormfur and Feathertail, whose new warrior names had been announced by Leopardstar, the RiverClan leader, at the previous Gathering. Stormfur was a muscular gray tomcat, very like his father, while Feathertail had the beautiful light gray pelt of her mother, Silverstream.

Sandstorm headed straight for Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy, who was sitting near the Great Rock. The two she-cats had become friends when Mistyfoot had been driven out of her own Clan by Tigerstar, and had spent some time in ThunderClan.

Seeing that the rest of his warriors were also greeting friends from other Clans, Firestar headed for the Great Rock, where Leopardstar, Blackstar, and Tallstar were waiting.

Tallstar stepped forward as Firestar sprang up to join them. “Greetings, Firestar. Now that we’re all here, the Gathering can start.”

Firestar dipped his head to the other three leaders while Blackstar let out a yowl, signaling for the cats in the clearing below to be quiet. “I will begin by speaking for ShadowClan,” he announced, narrowing his eyes at the other leaders as if they might challenge his right to make his report first.

None of the other leaders tried to argue with him, though Tallstar shot a glance at Firestar, and Leopardstar irritably twitched the tip of her tail.

“The prey is running well in ShadowClan,” Blackstar began. “And we have made a new warrior, Tawnypelt.”

A chorus of yowls broke out as the cats of all four Clans congratulated Tawnypelt and called out her name. Firestar glanced down to see the young tortoiseshell warrior sitting beside her brother, her eyes shining proudly. But he couldn’t help noticing that a few of her own Clanmates—the deputy, Russetfur, for one—kept silent, giving Tawnypelt suspicious stares. Firestar bit back a sigh. Some ShadowClan cats clearly mistrusted her because she had been born in ThunderClan.

“We have seen more Twolegs in our territory,” Blackstar went on. “They stride around yowling at one another, and sometimes they let their monsters leave the Thunderpath and crash through the woods.”

“Leave the Thunderpath?” Mistyfoot called out from below. “Why? Are they chasing your cats, Blackstar?”

“No,” the ShadowClan leader replied. “I don’t think they even know we’re there. They’ll be no trouble so long as we stay away from them.”

“They must frighten the prey, though,” Tallstar muttered to Firestar. “I wouldn’t want any more of them on my territory; that’s for sure.”

“ShadowClan cats are better than most of us at hiding,” Firestar pointed out under his breath.

Blackstar stepped back, nudging Tallstar. “Go on, it’s your turn,” he meowed.

The WindClan leader dipped his head before advancing to the edge of the rock. “All is well in WindClan,” he reported. “Ashfoot has a new litter of three kits. Onewhisker and Mudclaw chased off a fox who seemed to think it would be happier living on the moors than in the woods.”

“We soon changed its mind!” Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy, yowled from where he sat at the base of the Great Rock.

“You’d better keep a lookout for it,” Tallstar continued to Leopardstar. “It crossed into your territory near the river.”

“Thank you for that, Tallstar,” the RiverClan leader replied dryly. “Another fox is just what we need. I’ll warn the patrols.”

Firestar reminded himself to do the same. RiverClan territory was narrow there, and if the fox had kept going it could easily have crossed into ThunderClan.

Meanwhile, Leopardstar had stepped forward. “As usual in greenleaf, there are more Twolegs around,” she meowed.

“They bring boats onto the river, and their kits play in the water and frighten the fish. This season the river is low, so there aren’t quite as many Twolegs as usual. However, we have no problem feeding ourselves.”

Firestar wondered if that was completely true. If the water was low in the river then surely there wouldn’t be so many fish either. But it wasn’t his place to argue, and he knew that Leopardstar, like all the leaders, wouldn’t want her Clan to seem weak from lack of food.

“ThunderClan has a new warrior too,” he announced when Leopardstar stepped back. “Bramblepaw had his warrior ceremony, and is now Brambleclaw.”

Another chorus of congratulations broke out, while

Brambleclaw sat beside his sister and acknowledged them with an embarrassed dip of his head. While he waited for the noise to die down, Firestar decided not to mention Longtail’s accident. Before the next Gathering, Cinderpelt would probably have healed the tabby warrior’s eyes, and the whole inci-dent would be forgotten.

“Our prey is plentiful and the Twolegs aren’t bothering us,” he finished.

It wasn’t often that a Gathering ended so quickly, with no serious disturbances to report from outside, and no reason for quarrels among the Clans. As Blackstar brought it to a close, Firestar looked down into the hollow. It was harder and harder to remember how it had looked after the battle with BloodClan, when the grass was stained red and the bodies of forest cats and the invaders from Twolegplace lay scattered across the clearing.

He had lost his first life then, seeing a pale outline of himself take its place among the warriors of StarClan.

The starry cats had given him the courage to fight on when they told him there had always been four Clans living in the forest, and there always would be.

Life would go on like this forever; Firestar found the thought comforting. The daily routine of patrols, the toil of finding prey and training apprentices—even disturbing events like Longtail’s injury and his own unexplained dreams—seemed small and insignificant when placed beside the unending pattern of Clan life. Firestar was part of a long, long line of cats all driven by loyalty to their Clanmates and the warrior code. Even when he had lost his last life, the Great Oaks would still be here, one for each Clan, until his name had been long forgotten.