Firestar's Quest (26 page)

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

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

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

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

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

“Lick his shoulder,” Sandstorm directed.

Sharpclaw obeyed, and stepped back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the Clan had finished calling Leafdapple by her new name, Firestar raised his tail to beckon Cherry and Boris. Cherry dashed forward at once, eyes sparkling with eagerness, but Boris was hesitant, as if he realized more clearly than his sister what a massive step they were about to take.

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

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

“Yes, it does,” Sandstorm replied, an edge to her voice. “Touch noses with him.”

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

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

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

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

Turning to Boris, who had been listening apprehensively, he touched the young tabby on his shoulder. “From this day forward, this apprentice will be known as Sparrowpaw. Leafdapple, you will be his mentor and share your experience with him.”

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

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

“Don't worry,” he replied. “Sandstorm and I will help you. For a while, every cat will be learning together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Skywatcher! Skywatcher!”

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

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

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

 

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

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

“You asked me to come.”

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

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

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

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

“No cat would doubt your loyalty,” Skywatcher agreed. “But how far would it go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The old cat took a deep breath, but when he spoke it was only to say, “Farewell, Firestar. In seasons to come, remember me.” He waved his tail, a clear indication that Firestar should go.

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

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

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

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

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

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 expe
rienced 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.