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Firepaw trotted after Graypaw, across the clearing, and past the shadowy corner where Spottedleaf had her den. They stopped beside a fallen tree that sheltered a patch of lush grass. Crouched among the soft greenery were four elderly cats tucking into a plump young rabbit.
“Dustpaw and Sandpaw would have brought them that,” whispered Graypaw. “One of the apprentices’ duties is catching fresh-kill for the elders.”
“Hello, youngster,” one of the elders greeted Graypaw.
“Hello, Smallear,” mewed Graypaw, nodding respectfully.
“This must be our new apprentice. Firepaw, isn’t it?” meowed a second tom. His patchy fur was dark brown, and there was only a stump where his tail should have been.
“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 not 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 Whitestorm 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, s
he 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.
