Tallstar’s Revenge

Chapter 9

Tallpaw paced the camp entrance. Dew soaked his paws. The sun was just lifting over the horizon. Its rays spilled over the heather, setting the purple flowers alight until the moor glowed. Tallpaw was the first cat awake, eager to leave for the dawn patrol. He’d poked Shrewpaw as he padded out of the den, but the dark brown apprentice was still half asleep. Through the gap beneath the gorse, Tallpaw could see him blinking groggily over the edge of his nest.

The long grass rustled beside the Meeting Hollow and Dawnstripe slid out. She yawned and stretched, then padded over the tussocks. “Good morning, Tallpaw.”

“Hi, Dawnstripe.” Tallpaw flicked his tail. “Are we going to check all the borders?” This was his first dawn patrol.

Dawnstripe shook her head. “That would take too long.” She jerked her muzzle toward the long grass where more cats were emerging into the open. “Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Larksplash will patrol the moor-edge and gorge with us. Hareflight, Shrewpaw, Doespring, and Appledawn will re-mark the borders near Fourtrees and ShadowClan.”

Shrewpaw padded, yawning, from the apprentices’ den. “Is there time to raid the prey heap before we leave?” His belly growled.

Tallpaw glanced across the clearing. There was only a stiff vole and a squashed mouse in the pile. “Perhaps you’ll catch something while you’re patrolling.”

Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “No hunting until the borders have been checked.”

Shrewpaw’s belly rumbled louder.

“Heatherstar will send out a hunting patrol soon.” Dawnstripe tipped her head sympathetically. “There’ll be prey on the heap by the time you get back.”

“How can you be hungry?” Tallpaw was too excited to eat. He padded around Dawnstripe.

Shrewpaw sat down and began to wash his face. “I’ve done dawn patrol before, remember?”

“You can’t be bored of it!” Tallpaw tasted the air, wondering what the moor was like this early. “What if we see an intruder?” he asked Dawnstripe. “Can we chase it?”

“Larksplash is leading the patrol,” Dawnstripe meowed. “You’ll have to ask her.”

Larksplash was already heading toward them. Tallpaw raced to meet her. “If we spot an intruder, can we chase it?”

“It depends.” Larksplash padded past him.

Tallpaw bounced after her. “On what?”

“On whether it’s a sheep or a dog or a rogue.” Larksplash stopped beside Dawnstripe. “If it’s a threat to the Clan, then we chase it.”

Tallpaw’s imagination began to whirl. What if they surprised a RiverClan patrol trying to invade the moor? What if a stray dog needed to be chased off? “When are we leaving?” he mewed to Dawnstripe.

Larksplash answered. “When Ryestalk and Stagleap stop gossiping and join us.”

The young warriors stood at the top of the Meeting Hollow with Doespring. They’d been warriors for a half moon. Tallpaw had watched their ceremony, secretly proud that he’d helped with their assessment. He’d nearly outrun them then, and he was even faster now. With a little more training, he was sure he’d be the fastest cat in the Clan.

“Ryestalk!” Larksplash flicked her tail and the gray she-cat looked up.

“Coming!” Ryestalk leaped over the tussocks with Stagleap close behind. “Sorry!” She skidded to a halt on the wet grass.

Stagleap’s eyes brightened. “Is Tallpaw patrolling with us?”

“Yes.” Tallpaw puffed out his chest.

“Want to race?” Stagleap plucked the ground excitedly.

“Yes, please—”

Larksplash stepped between them. “We’re patrolling, not racing,” she meowed sternly. “I want your attention focused on the borders.”

Tallpaw glanced at his paws, peeking at Stagleap from under his fur.

The dark brown tom’s whiskers were twitching with amusement. “Sorry, Larksplash.” He straightened his tail respectfully, but his whiskers kept twitching.

Tallpaw swallowed a purr. “No racing, I promise. No having fun whatsoever on the dawn patrol.”

Huffing, Larksplash turned away and headed through the entrance.

Ryestalk brushed past Tallpaw. “She doesn’t mean to be bad-tempered,” she whispered. “She’s just not a dawn cat.”

“I know the feeling.” Shrewpaw stared blearily at the rest of his patrol as they headed toward him.

“You’ll feel better once the wind’s in your fur,” Ryestalk promised as she followed Dawnstripe through the entrance.

Outside, the air was sweet with heather blossom. The sun was climbing into a pale blue sky. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes against the glare. He could make out pockets of mist pooling in dips and hollows across the moor. Heat would burn them away before long. It was going to be another scorching day.

Tallpaw felt the breeze in his tail. “Which way?” he asked Larksplash.

She was already heading upslope, toward the high-moor. “We’ll reset the markers along the Thunderpath first.”

“But there’s no Clan beyond that border.” Tallpaw caught up to her, weaving around a clump of heather to stay near her. “Why do we have to mark it?”

“There are rogues and loners out there,” Larksplash reminded him. “It’s only fair to warn them that they’ve reached Clan territory.”

I thought we welcomed rogues. Tallpaw glanced over his shoulder at Dawnstripe. She was watching the horizon. Was she looking out for their greenleaf visitors?

Stagleap caught up. “I know you said no racing.” He turned his round, amber gaze on Larksplash. “But we’re not at the border yet.”

Ryestalk popped up beside her brother. “We’d get there quicker if we ran.”

Larksplash rolled her eyes. “Okay, then. But don’t get too excited, and be careful of the Thunderpath.”

“We’re not ’paws anymore,” Stagleap retorted.

“Tallpaw is,” Larksplash reminded him. “So be careful.”

Stagleap caught Tallpaw’s eye. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Tallpaw tensed, feeling energy surge beneath his pelt.

“Go!” Ryestalk crashed away through the heather.

Stagleap chose a wider course, skirting the bushes and charging for the stretch of grass beyond. Grass makes for easier running. Tallpaw raced after Stagpaw. His paws skidded in the dew as he swerved around the heather. Ryestalk exploded from the bushes beside him as he veered onto Stagleap’s trail. She whisked past him with a yowl of triumph. Tallpaw dug in his claws and pushed harder.

The ground sloped steeply ahead of them. Ryestalk pounded over the grass but she couldn’t match her brother’s strength. Stagleap streaked higher. Stretching farther with each stride, Tallpaw found his rhythm until he was skimming the ground, hardly touching it with his paws. Wind streamed through his whiskers as he ran past Ryestalk. Stagleap was only a tail-length ahead. The top of the moor loomed above him, the blue sky stretching out endlessly beyond.

As Tallpaw drew closer, Stagleap crested the rise and began to charge down the other side. Tallpaw glanced back. Ryestalk was lagging but she put on a spurt of energy to crest the rise and hurtled down after them. The slope gave Stagleap an extra burst of speed. His wide shoulders and stocky build might slow him uphill, but here he could use his strength to race harder than ever.

Tallpaw lengthened his stride, but Stagpaw was pulling farther ahead. As the slope flattened out beside the Thunderpath, the young warrior slowed to a halt and lifted his tail in victory.

“Nice try,” Stagleap puffed as Tallpaw reached him.

“I’ll get you one day,” Tallpaw panted.

Ryestalk pulled up beside them. “I’m hopeless on grass!” She struggled to get her breath. “I’d rather sprint over rabbit trails.”

“You’re better at twists and turns,” Stagleap agreed. “Next time we’ll race through heather.”

The Thunderpath glittered in the sunshine a few tail-lengths away. Tallpaw looked along it as he caught his breath. He’d never been this close. “Where are the monsters?” It was deserted.

“They come later,” Stagleap told him.

Ryestalk glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve passed the scent line.”

Tallpaw tasted the air. The acrid tang of the Thunderpath mingled with stale WindClan scent.

“Let’s start resetting the markers.” Stagleap turned back. “Before Larksplash gets hissy.”

As Tallpaw followed, he spotted Dawnstripe’s golden pelt flash farther up the slope. She was bounding toward him, her tail bushed. “I don’t want to see you so near to the Thunderpath again!” she snapped as she reached him.

Tallpaw stared at her in surprise. “But it’s deserted.”

“Monsters travel as fast as birds. And they’re bigger than you can imagine.” Dawnstripe glared at him.

“But it’s—”

Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes. “When I tell you something, you listen; you don’t argue.”

Tallpaw’s throat tightened with anger but he swallowed it back. I can’t wait to be a warrior!

Tallpaw helped the young moor runners to mark the border that ran level with the Thunderpath, following the high-moor toward the gorge.

I’m bored. Tallpaw stopped to spray another clump of heather. Wearily he watched Larksplash double back to follow yet another scent trail that had crossed the boundary. At this rate, they’d be marking borders till nightfall.

“Is that RiverClan?” Dawnstripe called after Larksplash.

The tortoiseshell warrior sniffed the heather. “Just a Twoleg.”

“Did they have a dog with them?” Ryestalk hurried to taste the scent.

Larksplash shook her head.

Stagleap climbed a hummock and lifted his chin. “There’s been no dog on this part of the moor in a moon.”

Ryestalk looked at him. “Since you started patrolling, I suppose.”

“Can we keep moving?” Tallpaw’s legs itched. He wanted to run. Why couldn’t they find a fresh rabbit scent—something he could chase?

Stagleap bounded from the hummock and marched along the scent line, tail high. “They’re scared of my scent.”

“Who are?” Tallpaw was puzzled. “Rabbits?”

Stagleap flashed him a look. “Dogs!”

Tallpaw snorted, ducking as Stagleap launched a play attack and swiped his ears.

“We’re patrolling the border,” Dawnstripe reminded them sternly.

Tallpaw frowned. Weren’t they allowed to have any fun? He stopped and sprayed a gorse stem halfheartedly.

In the distance he could hear water. At least they were nearly at the gorge. After that, they could head for camp and do some proper training. He followed Larksplash as she disappeared into a patch of heather. He pushed through the whippy branches, the rest of the patrol at his heels. The path wound through hummocks, spiky twigs pressing in on all sides. The pollen-heavy blossom made Tallpaw sneeze, and he was relieved when the heather opened onto grass near the cliff top.

Larksplash, Ryestalk, and Dawnstripe fanned out and sniffed at the scent line that ran along the top of the gorge. Tallpaw crept forward and peered over the edge. Greenleaf had calmed the water and it flowed smoothly far below, winding between the cliffs. “Is it deep?” he asked Stagleap.

Stagleap shrugged. “How would I know?”

Tallpaw scanned the sheer rock face, spotting a narrow ledge at the water’s edge. It ran the whole length of the gorge, opening out at the end onto grassland. “Have you ever been down there?”

Stagleap shook his head. “It’s too dangerous in leaf-bare. In newleaf, there’s snowmelt and the river covers it.”

“But it’s a good route to get to the Twoleg bridge without being seen by RiverClan.” Tallpaw nodded toward the wooden pathway spanning the river, just visible beyond the gorge.

“Are you planning to invade RiverClan territory?” Stagleap teased.

As he spoke, Tallpaw felt a faint shudder in the ground beneath him. His fur lifted along his spine. “What was that?”

Before Stagleap could answer, yowls echoed behind them. Tallpaw spun around, scanning the moor. He could see nothing but birds swooping across the heather. Larksplash tasted the air. The yowls sounded again, deep and hollow, strangely muffled.

Ryestalk’s gray fur stood on end. “What is that?”

Tallpaw darted to the edge of the gorge and looked over. Was someone calling from the bottom?

“It’s coming from here!” Dawnstripe was sniffing at a rabbit hole a few tail-lengths away. She backed away as the yowls grew louder.

Sandgorse burst out of the hole. Fur spiked up, eyes wide, he glanced over his shoulder as Mistmouse hurtled out on his heels. “Are you okay?” He circled his mud-streaked tunnelmate, sniffing her anxiously.

“I’m fine,” she panted. Her pelt was thick with mud.

Sandgorse stuck his head down the hole and yowled. Tallpaw pricked his ears as distant yowls sounded back.

“They’re safe.” Sandgorse straightened up. He seemed to notice Larksplash for the first time. “Just a cave-in. The others are safe. Hickorynose and Woollytail are experts. They’ll find their way out through a lower entrance if they need to.” He shook out his pelt.

Tallpaw rushed over to his father. “What happened?”

Sandgorse touched his nose to Tallpaw’s head. “Too much sunshine,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Makes the soil shrink. Rocks drop and we get cave-ins.” He looked at the wide, blue sky. “We could sure use a few days of rain.”

Tallpaw winced. What if Sandgorse had been caught in the cave-in? In the last half-moon, he’d been aware of more and more distance between himself and his father. Sandgorse spoke to him, but not often, and not with the warmth he’d had before. If he could just see how well Tallpaw was doing with his training, he would understand that he had chosen the right path, and everything would be okay again.

Sandgorse padded away, weaving between Dawnstripe and Stagleap. “Are you patrolling the borders?”

“We’ve nearly finished,” Dawnstripe told him. “No sign of intruders.”

The tunneler gazed across the heather. “We’ve been digging all night.”

Ryestalk blinked at him. “Aren’t you tired?”

Sandgorse’s eyes shone. “We’re so close to breaking through to the gorge.” His ears twitched excitedly. “I’m not resting till it’s done.”

Mistmouse peered down the tunnel. “What about the cave-in?”

“We’ll clear it in no time.” Sandgorse nosed past her, his mew echoing as he stuck his head into the hole. “The soil’s light. It’ll be easy to burrow through.” He ducked out and looked at Dawnstripe. “This is the perfect time to give Tallpaw some tunneling experience.”

Tallpaw’s pelt bristled. He forced it flat. “But we’re patrolling the borders.”

Sandgorse kept his gaze on Dawnstripe. “You said you’d nearly finished.”

Dawnstripe glanced at Tallpaw. “Heatherstar does want every warrior to spend a day underground,” she conceded.

“At least a day.” There was an edge to Sandgorse’s mew. “How will moor runners appreciate the importance of the tunnels if they don’t know what it’s like to be underground?”

“Of course.” Dawnstripe shifted her paws.

Please, no, Tallpaw begged her silently.

“Then it’s settled.” Sandgorse beckoned Tallpaw with a flick of his tail.

Tallpaw looked hopefully at Dawnstripe. “Is it?”

“You might as well go with him.” Dawnstripe dipped her head. “When you’re finished, come and find me in camp.”

“Okay.” Swallowing, Tallpaw padded toward his father. The rabbit hole loomed in front of him like a black mouth sucking him in. There can’t be more than one cave-in today, surely?

Sandgorse purred. “I’m glad you finally have a chance to see what tunneling’s all about.” For the first time in a half moon he gazed at Tallpaw with pride.

Tallpaw gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let his father down now. “I’m looking forward to it,” he lied. Perhaps once he was underground, he’d understand why his father thought being a tunneler was so special.