Into the Wild (6 page)

“That's right,” Firepaw replied, copying Graypaw's polite nod.

“I'm Halftail,” purred the brown tom. “Welcome to the Clan.”

“Have you two eaten?” meowed Smallear.

Firepaw and Graypaw both shook their heads.

“Well, there's enough here. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are turning into fine hunters. Would you mind if these youngsters shared a mouse, One-eye?”

The pale gray queen who lay beside him shook her head. Firepaw noticed one of her eyes was clouded and sightless.

“What about you, Dappletail?”

The other elder, a tortoiseshell she-cat with a gray muzzle, meowed in a voice cracked with age, “Of course not.”

“Thank you,” mewed Graypaw eagerly. He stepped forward and took a large mouse from the pile of prey, then dropped it at Firepaw's feet. “You still haven't tasted mouse?” he asked.

“No,” Firepaw admitted. He suddenly felt excited by the
warm smells that were rising from this piece of fresh-kill. His whole body quivered at the thought of sharing his first real food as a Clan member.

“In that case, you can have first bite. Just save me some!” Graypaw dipped his head and stood back to give Firepaw room.

Firepaw crouched down and took a large bite from the mouse. It was juicy and tender, and sang with the flavors of the forest.

“What do you think?” asked Graypaw.

“Fantastic!” mumbled Firepaw, his mouth still full.

“Move over then,” mewed Graypaw, stepping forward and bending his head to take a bite.

As the two apprentices shared the mouse, they listened to the elders talk among themselves.

“How long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?” asked Smallear.

“What did you say, Smallear?” mewed One-eye.

“I think your hearing has become as poor as your eyesight!” snapped Smallear impatiently. “I said, how long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?”

One-eye ignored Smallear's irritated reply and spoke instead to the tortoiseshell queen. “Dappletail, do you remember the day many moons ago when Bluestar herself was appointed deputy?”

Dappletail mewed earnestly, “Oh, yes! It was not long after she lost her kits.”

“She'll not be happy to be appointing a new deputy,” Smallear observed. “Redtail served her long and well. But she'll
need to make up her mind quickly. According to Clan custom, the choice has to be made before moonhigh after the death of the old deputy.”

“At least this time the choice is obvious,” meowed Halftail.

Firepaw raised his head and looked around the clearing. Who could Halftail mean? To Firepaw, all the warriors looked worthy of becoming deputy. Perhaps he meant Tigerclaw; after all, he had avenged Redtail's death.

Tigerclaw was sitting not far off, his ears angled toward the elders' conversation.

As Firepaw stretched with his tongue to lick the last traces of mouse from his whiskers, Bluestar's voice called from the Highrock. Redtail's body still lay in the clearing below, pale gray in the fading light. “A new deputy must be appointed,” she meowed. “But first, let us give thanks to StarClan for the life of Redtail. Tonight he sits with his fellow warriors among the stars.”

Silence fell as all the cats looked up into the sky, which was beginning to darken as evening crept over the forest.

“And now I shall name ThunderClan's new deputy,” Bluestar continued. “I say these words before the body of Redtail, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice.”

Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw. He couldn't help noticing the hunger in the big warrior's amber eyes as he stared up at the Highrock.

“Lionheart,” meowed Bluestar, “will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

Firepaw was curious to see Tigerclaw's reaction. But the dark warrior's face revealed nothing as he moved to
congratulate Lionheart with a nudge so hearty that it almost pushed the golden tabby off balance.

“Why didn't she make Tigerclaw deputy?” Firepaw whispered to Graypaw.

“Probably because Lionheart has been a warrior longer, so he has a lot more experience,” Graypaw murmured back, still looking up at Bluestar.

Bluestar spoke again. “Redtail was also mentor to young Dustpaw. Since there must be no delay in the training of our apprentices, I shall appoint Dustpaw's new mentor immediately. Darkstripe, you are ready for your first apprentice, so you will continue Dustpaw's training. You had a fine mentor in Tigerclaw, and I expect you to pass on some of the excellent skills you were taught.”

The tabby warrior swelled with pride as he showed his acceptance with a solemn nod. He strode over to Dustpaw, bent his head, and rather awkwardly touched noses with his new apprentice. Dustpaw flicked his tail respectfully, but his eyes were still dull with grief for his lost mentor.

Bluestar raised her voice. “I shall keep a vigil with Redtail's body tonight, before we bury him at sunrise.” She jumped down from the Highrock and walked over to lie beside Redtail's body once more. Many of the other cats joined her, Dustpaw and Smallear among them.

“Should we sit with them too?” Firepaw suggested. He had to admit the idea didn't appeal to him much. It had been a busy day and he was beginning to feel tired. All he wanted to do was find somewhere warm and dry to curl up and sleep.

Graypaw shook his head. “No, only those who were closest to Redtail will share his final night. I'll show you where we sleep. The apprentices' den is over here.”

Firepaw followed Graypaw to a thick bush of ferns that lay behind a mossy tree stump.

“All the apprentices share their fresh-kill by this stump,” Graypaw told him.

“How many apprentices are there?” Firepaw asked.

“Not as many as usual—just me, you, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw.”

As Graypaw and Firepaw settled themselves beside the tree stump, a young she-cat crawled out from beneath the ferns. Her coat was ginger, like Firepaw's, but much paler, with barely visible stripes of darker fur.

“So here comes the new apprentice!” she meowed, narrowing her eyes.

“Hello,” Firepaw mewed.

The young cat sniffed rudely. “He smells like a kittypet! Don't tell me I'm going to have to share my nest with that revolting stench!”

Firepaw felt rather taken aback. Since his fight with Longtail, all the cats had been quite friendly. Maybe they had just been distracted by Ravenpaw's news, he thought.

“You'll have to excuse Sandpaw,” apologized Graypaw. “I think she must have a furball stuck somewhere. She's not usually this bad-tempered.”

“Psst!” spat Sandpaw crossly.

“Hold on, youngsters.” The deep voice of Whitestorm
sounded behind the apprentices. “Sandpaw! As my apprentice, I expected you to be a little more welcoming to this newcomer.”

Sandpaw held up her head and looked defiant. “I'm sorry, Whitestorm,” she purred, not sounding sorry at all. “I just didn't expect to be training with a
kittypet
, that's all!”

“I'm sure you'll get used to it, Sandpaw,” meowed White-storm calmly. “Now, it's getting late, and training starts early tomorrow. You three should get some sleep.” He gave Sandpaw a stern look, and she nodded obediently. As he walked off, she spun around and vanished into the clump of ferns, sniffing once more as she brushed past Firepaw.

With a flick of his tail, Graypaw invited Firepaw to follow him, and led the way after Sandpaw. Inside the sleeping area, the ground was lined with soft moss, and the pale moonlight turned everything a delicate shade of green. The air was fragrant with fern scent, and warmer than outside.

“Where do I sleep?” Firepaw asked.

“Anywhere, just so long as it's not near me!” snarled Sandpaw, who was prodding some moss with her paw.

Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged glances, but said nothing. Firepaw raked together a pile of moss with his claws. When he had gathered his bed into a cozy nest, he circled until it was comfortable and settled down. His whole body felt drowsy with contentment. This was his home now. He was a member of ThunderClan.

“Hey, Firepaw, wake up!” Graypaw's meow
broke into Firepaw's dream. He had been chasing a squirrel, up and up, into the topmost branches of a tall oak.

“Training begins at sunrise. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are already up,” Graypaw added urgently.

Firepaw stretched sleepily, then remembered: today was his first day of training. He leaped to his paws. His drowsiness evaporated as excitement surged through his veins.

Graypaw was giving himself a hasty wash. Between licks, he meowed, “I've just spoken to Lionheart. Ravenpaw won't be training with us till his wound is better. He'll probably stay at Spottedleaf's den for another day or two. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are on hunting duty. So Lionheart thought you and I could train with him and Tigerclaw this morning. We'd better hurry, though,” he added. “They'll be waiting!”

Graypaw led Firepaw quickly through the gorse entrance of the camp and up the side of the rock-strewn valley. As they climbed over the crest of the ravine, a cool breeze ruffled their fur. Fat, white clouds raced across the blue sky overhead. Firepaw felt fierce joy well up inside him as he followed
Graypaw down a tree-shaded slope and into a sandy hollow.

Tigerclaw and Lionheart were indeed waiting, sitting a few tail-lengths apart on the sun-warmed sand.

“In future, I expect you both to be punctual,” growled Tigerclaw.

“Don't be too severe, Tigerclaw; it was a busy night last night. I expect they were tired,” meowed Lionheart gently. “You have not yet been assigned a mentor, Firepaw,” he went on. “For now, Tigerclaw and I will share your training.”

Firepaw nodded enthusiastically, his tail held high, unable to disguise his delight at having two such great warriors as his mentors.

“Come,” meowed Tigerclaw impatiently. “Today we are going to show you the edges of our territory, so that you know where you will be hunting and what boundaries you need to protect. Graypaw, it won't do you any harm to remind yourself of the Clan's outer limits.”

Without another word, Tigerclaw leaped up and bounded out of the sandy hollow. Lionheart nodded to Graypaw and they took off with equal speed. Firepaw scrambled after them, his paws slipping on the soft sand.

The trees were thick in this part of the forest, birch and ash trees overshadowed by mighty oaks. The ground was carpeted with crisp dead leaves that rustled beneath their paws. Tigerclaw paused to spray his scent on a thick clump of ferns. The other cats stopped beside him.

“There is a Twoleg path here,” murmured Lionheart. “Use your nose, Firepaw. Can you smell anything?”

Firepaw sniffed. There was the faint scent of a Twoleg, and the stronger smell of a dog, familiar to him from his old home. “A Twoleg has walked his dog along here, but they are gone now,” he mewed.

“Good,” meowed Lionheart. “Do you think it is safe to cross?”

Firepaw sniffed again. The odors were weak and seemed overlaid with fresher forest smells. “Yes,” he replied.

Tigerclaw nodded, and the four cats stalked out from beneath the ferns and crossed the sharp stones of the narrow Twoleg path.

The trees beyond were pine. They grew tall and straight, row after row. It was easy to walk silently here. The ground was thick with layers of dead needles, which prickled against Firepaw's pads but felt spongy underneath. There was no undergrowth here to hide in, and Firepaw sensed tension in the other cats as they stalked unprotected between the tree trunks.

“Twolegs put these trees here,” meowed Tigerclaw. “They cut them down with foul-smelling creatures, which spew enough fumes to make a kit go blind. Then they take the fallen trees to the Treecut place that lies near here.”

Firepaw stopped and listened for the roar of the tree-eater, which he had heard before.

“The Treecut place will be silent for a few moons more, until the time of greenleaf,” explained Graypaw, noticing his pause.

The cats padded on through the pine forest.

“Twolegplace lies in that direction,” meowed Tigerclaw, flicking his thick tail to one side. “No doubt you can smell it, Firepaw. Today, however, we will head the other way.”

Eventually they reached another Twoleg path that marked the far edge of the pine forest. They quickly crossed over into the safe bushes of the oak woods beyond. But Firepaw still sensed anxiety in the other cats.

“We're approaching RiverClan territory,” whispered Graypaw. “The Sunningrocks are over there.” He pointed with his soft muzzle to a treeless mound of boulders.

Firepaw felt his fur stand on end. This was where Redtail had been slain.

Lionheart stopped by a flat gray rock. “This is the boundary between ThunderClan and RiverClan territory. RiverClan rules the hunting grounds beside the great river,” he meowed. “Breathe deeply, Firepaw.”

The pungent smell of unfamiliar cats hit the roof of Firepaw's mouth. He was surprised how different it smelled from the warm cat scents of the ThunderClan camp. And he was also surprised to realize just how familiar and comforting the ThunderClan scents seemed to him already.

“That is the smell of RiverClan,” Tigerclaw growled beside him. “Remember it well. It will be strongest at the boundary, because their warriors will have scent-marked the trees along here.” With these words, the dark tabby lifted his tail and sprayed his own mark on the flat rock.

“We'll follow this boundary line, as it leads straight to Fourtrees,” Lionheart meowed.

He set off quickly, away from the Sunningrocks, followed by Tigerclaw. Graypaw and Firepaw trotted after them.

“What is Fourtrees?” Firepaw panted.

“It is where the territories of all four Clans meet,” replied Graypaw. “There are four great oaks there, as old as the Clans—”

“Be quiet!” ordered Tigerclaw. “Don't forget how close we are to enemy territory!”

The two apprentices fell silent and Firepaw concentrated on walking silently. They crossed a shallow stream, keeping their paws dry by leaping from boulder to boulder across the pebbly riverbed.

By the time they reached Fourtrees, Firepaw was feeling completely out of breath and his paws ached. He wasn't used to traveling so far and so fast. He was quite relieved when Lionheart and Tigerclaw led them out of the thick woods and stopped at the brow of a bush-covered slope.

It was sunhigh now. The clouds had cleared, and the wind had dropped. Below, in the dazzling sunlight, stood four enormous oaks, their dark green crowns reaching almost to the top of the steep slope.

“As Graypaw told you,” meowed Lionheart to Firepaw, “this is Fourtrees, where the territories of all four Clans meet. WindClan governs the high ground ahead of us, where the sun sets. You won't be able to catch their scent today—the wind is blowing toward them. But you'll learn it soon enough.”

“And ShadowClan holds power over there, in the darkest part of the forest,” added Graypaw, flicking his head sideways.
“The elders say that the cold winds from the north blow over the ShadowClan cats and chill their hearts.”

“So many Clans!” Firepaw exclaimed.
And so well organized,
he added to himself, remembering Smudge's lurid tales of wildcats wreaking terror in the forest.

“You see now why prey is so precious,” meowed Lionheart. “Why we must fight to protect what little we have.”

“But that seems foolish! Why can't the Clans work together and share their hunting grounds, instead of fighting each other?” Firepaw suggested boldly.

A shocked silence greeted his words.

Tigerclaw was the first to reply. “That is treacherous thinking, kittypet,” he snapped.

“Don't be too fierce, Tigerclaw,” warned Lionheart. “The ways of the Clans are new to this apprentice.” He looked at Firepaw. “You speak from your heart, young Firepaw. This will make you a stronger warrior one day.”

Tigerclaw growled. “Or it might make him give in to kittypet weakness right at the moment of attack.”

Lionheart glanced briefly at Tigerclaw before he continued. “The four Clans do come together peacefully, in a Gathering each moon. Here”—he bent his head toward the four mighty oaks below—“is where they meet. The truce lasts for as long as the moon is at its fullest.”

“Then there must be a meeting very soon?” Firepaw suggested, remembering how bright the moonlight had been the night before.

“Indeed there is!” answered Lionheart, sounding impressed.
“Tonight, in fact. The Gatherings are very important because they allow the Clans to come together in peace for one night. But you must understand that longer alliances bring more trouble than they're worth.”

“It is our Clan loyalty that makes us strong,” Tigerclaw meowed in agreement. “If you weaken that loyalty, you weaken our chances of survival.”

Firepaw nodded. “I understand,” he mewed.

“Come on,” meowed Lionheart, standing up. “Let's keep moving.”

They paced along the ridge of the valley where Fourtrees stood. Now they were heading away from the sun as it began to sink in the afternoon sky. They crossed the stream at a place where it was narrow enough to leap over in one jump.

Firepaw sniffed the air. A new cat-scent touched his mouth glands, strong and sour. “Which Clan is that?” he asked.

“ShadowClan,” answered Tigerclaw grimly. “We are traveling along their border. Keep your wits about you, Firepaw. Fresher scents mean that a ShadowClan patrol is in the area.”

As Firepaw nodded, he heard a new noise. He stiffened, but the other cats kept up their pace, heading straight for the ominous rumbling.

“What's that?” he called, trotting to catch up with them.

“You'll see in a moment,” replied Lionheart.

Firepaw peered through the trees ahead. They seemed to be getting thinner, letting in a broad band of sunlight. “Are we at the edge of the woods?” he asked. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. The green forest scents were overlaid with
other strange, dark smells. This time it was not cat-scent, but an odor that reminded him of his old Twoleg home. And the rumbling was getting louder, a ceaseless roar that made the ground tremble and ached in Firepaw's ears.

“This is the Thunderpath,” meowed Tigerclaw.

Firepaw followed as Lionheart led them toward the edge of the forest. Then he sat down and all four cats looked out.

Firepaw could see a gray path like a river, cutting its way through the forest. The hard gray stone stretched ahead of him so far that the trees on the other side seemed blurred and tiny. Firepaw shuddered at the bitter smell that rose from the path.

Next moment he leaped back, his fur bristling, as a gigantic monster roared past. The branches of the trees on either side flapped madly in the wind that chased the speeding monster. Firepaw stared around at the other cats, his eyes wide, unable to speak. He had seen paths like this before near his old Twoleg home, but never this wide, nor with monsters so swift and fierce.

“Scared me too the first time,” remarked Graypaw. “But at least it helps to keep ShadowClan warriors from crossing into our territory. The Thunderpath runs for many pawsteps along our boundary line. And don't worry; those monsters never seem to leave the Thunderpath. You'll be fine as long as you don't go too near.”

“It's time we returned to camp,” meowed Lionheart. “You have seen all our boundaries now. But we'll avoid Snakerocks, even though the way around is longer. An untrained apprentice
would be easy prey for an adder, and I expect you are getting tired, Firepaw.”

Firepaw couldn't help feeling relieved at the thought of returning to the camp. His head was spinnning with all the new smells and sights, and Lionheart was right: he was tired, and hungry. He fell in behind Graypaw as the cats turned away from the Thunderpath and headed back into the forest.

The dewy scents of evening filled the air as Firepaw made his way through the gorse entrance into the ThunderClan camp. Fresh-kill was waiting for them. Firepaw and Graypaw took their share from the pile that lay in a shady part of the clearing and carried it to the tree stump outside their quarters.