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But Bluestar walked straight past him. She did not even glance at him; her eyes were clouded with unknown distant thoughts. “Frostfur!” she called out as she approached the nursery.
A pure white cat with dark blue eyes slipped out of the brambles. Inside, the noise of mewling grew louder.
“Hush, kits,” purred the white cat reassuringly. “I won’t be long.” Then she turned to her leader. “Yes, Bluestar? What is it?”
“One of our apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.”
Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits.
At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors.
Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth.
“Not for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.”
Firepaw looked over to Bluestar.
She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.”
Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body.
With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none.
Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow.
Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg.
Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily.
Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing.
Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.”
Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselves gracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak.
“Come on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position.
“I’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began. “But there is something else you need to know.” She glanced down at the raddled she-cat who lay very still beside the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?” she asked.
“I may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat in reply.
Bluestar ignored the prisoner’s hostile tone and continued. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Almost every tree had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats even though we journeyed deep into their heartland.”
Her words were met with silence. Firepaw saw confusion in the faces of the Clan cats.
“Do you mean ShadowClan has chased them out?” called Smallear hesitantly.
“We can’t be sure,” Bluestar meowed. “Certainly the scent of ShadowClan was everywhere. We found blood, too, and fur. There must have been a battle, though we found no bodies from either Clan.”
A shocked yowl rose from the crowd in a single voice. Firepaw felt the cats around him stiffen with shock and fury. Never before had one Clan driven another from its hunting grounds.
“How can WindClan have been driven out?” One-eye croaked hoarsely. “ShadowClan is fierce, but WindClan is many. They have lived in the uplands for generations. Why have they been chased out now?” She shook her head anxiously, her whiskers trembling.
“I don’t know the answers to any of your questions,” meowed Bluestar. “It is well known that ShadowClan has recently appointed a new leader, following the death of Raggedstar. Their new leader, Brokenstar, gave no hint of any threat when we met him at the last Gathering.”
“Perhaps Yellowfang has answers?” snarled Darkstripe. “After all, she is of ShadowClan!”
“I am no traitor! Nothing would make me share the secrets of ShadowClan with a brute like you!” growled Yellowfang, glaring aggressively at Darkstripe. The ThunderClan warrior moved forward, ears flat, eyes closed to slits, ready for a fight.
“Stop!” yowled Bluestar.
Darkstripe immediately halted in his tracks, even though Yellowfang goaded him on with blazing eyes and a ferocious hiss.
“That’s enough!” Bluestar growled. “This situation is too serious for us to be fighting among ourselves. ThunderClan must prepare itself. From this moonrise onward, warriors will travel in larger groups. Other Clan members will remain close to the camp. Patrols will travel the boundary edges more frequently, and all the kits must stay in the nursery.”
The cats below her nodded in agreement.
Bluestar continued. “Our need for warriors is our greatest obstacle. We shall get around this by speeding up the training of our apprentices. They need to be ready even sooner to fight for our Clan.”
Firepaw saw Dustpaw and Sandpaw exchange a thrilled glance. Graypaw was gazing up at Bluestar, his eyes wide with excitement. Ravenpaw just shuffled his paws anxiously. The black apprentice’s wide eyes showed worry rather than excitement.
Bluestar went on. “One young cat has been sharing mentors with Graypaw and Ravenpaw. By teaching him, I shall speed up the training of all three apprentices.” She paused and looke
d down at her Clan. “I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.”
Firepaw opened his eyes wide in amazement. Bluestar was to be his mentor?
Beside him, Graypaw gasped, unable to hide his surprise. “What an honor! It’s been moons since Bluestar had an apprentice. Usually she trains only the kits of deputies!”
Then a familiar voice rose from the front of the crowd. It was Tigerclaw. “So Firepaw is to be rewarded, not punished, for feeding an enemy warrior when he should have been feeding his own Clan?”
“Firepaw is my apprentice now. I will deal with him,” answered Bluestar. She stared into Tigerclaw’s fierce eyes for a moment before lifting her head to address the whole Clan once more. “Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages. She is to be treated with respect and courtesy.”
“But the Clan cannot support Yellowfang,” Darkstripe protested. “We have too many mouths to feed already.”
“Yeah!” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear. “And some of them are bigger than others!”
“I don’t need anyone to care for me!” spat Yellowfang. “And I’ll split open anyone who tries!”
“Friendly, isn’t she?” Graypaw murmured.
Firepaw flicked the tip of his tail in silent agreement. There were muffled meows from the other warriors as they grudgingly recognized the enemy warrior’s fighting spirit.
Bluestar ignored the murmuring. “We shall kill two prey with one blow, as it were. Firepaw, as punishment for breaking the warrior code, it will be your responsibility to care for Yellowfang. You will hunt for her and tend her wounds. You will fetch fresh bedding and clear away her dirt.”
“Yes, Bluestar,” mewed Firepaw, his head bowed in submission. Clear away her dirt! he thought to himself. Ugh!
Mocking yowls came from Dustpaw and Sandpaw. “Good idea!” hissed Dustpaw. “Firepaw had better be good at cracking fleas!”
“And hunting!” added Sandpaw. “That sack of bones is going to need feeding up!”
“Enough!” Bluestar interrupted them. “I hope Firepaw will find no shame in caring for Yellowfang. She is a healer, and she is his elder. For those reasons alone he should respect her!” She shot a sharp glance at Sandpaw and Dustpaw. “And there is no humiliation in caring for another cat when it is unable to take care of itself. The meeting is over. I would like to speak to my senior warriors alone now.” With that, she jumped down from the Highrock and marched toward her den.
