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“Yeah, but there’s plenty of time. I was going to do a little hunting first. I’m starving!”
“Me too. But I’ve got to hunt for the Clan before I can hunt for myself.”
“I bet Dustpaw and Sandpaw used to swallow a shrew or two when they were on hunting duty,” snorted Graypaw.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, but this is my first solo assignment….”
“And you want to do it right; I know.” Graypaw sighed.
“What is the message from Bluestar, anyway?” Firepaw asked, changing the subject.
“She wants the patrol to wait at the Great Sycamore until she joins them at sunhigh. Seems that some ShadowClan cats have been prowling around. Bluestar wants to check things out.”
“You’d best get going then,” Firepaw reminded him.
“The WindClan hunting grounds aren’t too far from here. There’s plenty of time,” answered Graypaw confidently. “And I suppose I should help out after losing you that vole.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Firepaw mewed. “I’ll find another. It’s such a warm day, there should be quite a few out and about.”
“True. But you still have to catch them.” Graypaw nibbled at a front claw, stripping off a piece of the outer sheath thoughtfully. “You know, that could take you until way past sunhigh, maybe even until sunset.”
Firepaw nodded without enthusiasm as his belly gave a rumble. He would probably have to make three or four hunting trips before he had caught enough prey. Silverpelt would be in the sky before he got a chance to eat.
Graypaw stroked his whiskers. “Come on; I’ll help you get started. I owe you that, at least. We should be able to catch a couple of voles before I have to get going.”
Firepaw followed Graypaw upstream, glad of the company and the help. The fox-stench was still in the air, but suddenly it smelled stronger.
Firepaw paused. “Can you smell that?” he asked.
Graypaw stopped and sniffed the air too. “Fox. Yeah, I smelled it earlier.”
“Doesn’t it smell fresher to you now, though?” Firepaw asked.
Graypaw sniffed again, opening his mouth slightly. “You’re right,” he murmured, lowering his voice. He swiveled his head to look across the stream at the bushes in the woods beyond. “Look!” he whispered.
Firepaw looked. He saw something red and thick-haired moving among the bushes. It stepped into a clearing in the undergrowth and Firepaw saw a low body, glinting red in the dappled sunlight. Its tail was heavily furred and it had a long, narrow snout.
“So that’s a fox?” Firepaw whispered. “What an ugly muzzle!”
“You can say that again!” agreed Graypaw.
“I was following one of those when we first…met,” whispered Firepaw.
“More likely it was following you, you idiot!” hissed Graypaw. “Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat. We must warn the queens that one has strayed into our territory. Foxes are as bad as badgers when it comes to killing young kits. I’m just glad you didn’t catch up with the one you saw last time. He’d have made mousemeat out of a tiny scrap like you.” Firepaw looked a little put out, and Graypaw added, “You’d stand a better chance these days, though. Anyway, Bluestar will probably send a warrior patrol to scare it off. Put the queens’ minds at rest.”
The fox had not noticed them, so the two apprentices continued along the stream.
“So what does a badger look like?” Firepaw asked as they prowled along, sniffing to either side.
“Black and white, short legs. You’ll know one when you meet one. They’re bad-tempered, lumbering animals. They’re less likely to raid the nursery than a fox, but they have a vicious bite. How do you think old Halftail earned his name? He hasn’t been able to climb a tree since a badger bit his tail off!”
“Why not?”
“Scared of falling. A cat needs his tail if he wants to land on his feet. It helps him spin in midair.”
Firepaw nodded in understanding.
As Firepaw had predicted, hunting was good that day. Before long, Graypaw had pounced on a small mouse and Firepaw had caught a thrush. He quickly took its life. No time to practice killing techniques today; there were too many hungry mouths waiting back at camp. Firepaw kicked earth over the prey, so that it would be safe from predators until he came back for it.
Suddenly a squirrel broke cover.
Firepaw burst into action. “After it!” he called, pelting at full stretch over the springy woodland floor with Graypaw at his heels.
They slid to a halt as the squirrel scampered upward into a birch.
“Lost it!” Graypaw growled in disappointment.
Panting, the two cats stopped to catch their breath. The acrid stench that hit their mouths and noses surprised them.
“The Thunderpath,” Firepaw mewed. “I didn’t realize we’d come so far.”
The two cats edged forward to peer out of the forest at the great, dark path. It was the first time they had been here alone. A trail of noisy creatures growled along the hard surface, their dead eyes staring straight ahead.
“Yuck!” Graypaw snorted. “Those monsters really stink!”
Firepaw twitched his ears in agreement. The choking smells made his throat sting. “Have you ever been across the Thunderpath?” he mewed.
Graypaw shook his head.
Firepaw took a step out of the cover of the forest. A border of oily grass lay between the trees and the Thunderpath. He crept slowly out onto it, and then shrank back as a stinking monster hurtled past.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Graypaw mewed.
Firepaw didn’t reply. He waited till there were no monsters in sight. Then he edged forward again, across the grass, right to the edge of the path. Cautiously, he reached out a paw to touch it. It felt warm, almost sticky, heated by the sun. He looked up, staring across the Thunderpath. Was that a pair of eyes glinting out of the forest on the other side? He sniffed the air, but smelled nothing except the stench of the great gray path. The eyes on the other side were still shining in the shadows. Then they blinked, slowly.
Firepaw was sure now. It was a ShadowClan warrior, and it was staring straight at him.
“Firepaw!” Graypaw’s voice made Firepaw jump, just as a huge monster, taller than a tree, roared past his nose. The wind from it almost toppled him over. Firepaw turned and ran as fast as he could back into the safety of the forest.
“You mouse-brained fool!” spat Graypaw. His whiskers trembled with fear and anger. “What were you doing?”
“I just wondered what the Thunderpath felt like,” Firepaw muttered. His whiskers were trembling too.
“Come on,” hissed Graypaw edgily. “Let’s get out of here!”
Firepaw followed Graypaw as he leaped away back into the forest. Once they were a safe distance from the Thunderpath, Graypaw stopped to catch his breath.
Firepaw sat down and began to lick his ruffled fur. “I think I saw a ShadowClan warrior,” he mewed between licks. “In the forest on the other side of the Thunderpath.”
“A ShadowClan warrior!” echoed Graypaw, his eyes wide. “Really?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that monster came past when it did,” retorted Graypaw. “Where there’s one ShadowClan warrior, there’s more, and we’re no match for them yet. We’d better get out of here.” He looked up at the sun, which was almost directly overhead. “I’d better get a move on if I want to meet that patrol on time,” he mewed. “See you later.” He sprang away into the undergrowth, calling as he went, “You never know; Lionheart might let me come and help you with the hunting once I’ve delivered this message.”
Firepaw watched him go. He envied Graypaw, wishing he were off to join a warrior patrol. But at least he’d have something to tell Dustpaw and Sandpaw when he returned to camp. Today he had seen his first ShadowClan warrior.
CHAPTER 7
Firepaw retraced his steps and headed back toward the stream. He th
ought of those eyes burning from the darkness of the ShadowClan territory.
Suddenly he caught a faint smell on the breeze.
