Warriors: Legends of the Clans, Page 2

  Around them, their Clanmates’ voices echoed through the ravine. “Redpaw! Willowpaw! Spottedpaw!”

  Spottedpaw’s littermates stood proudly beside her, their fur gleaming. Redpaw had been given grumpy Halftail as his mentor, and Willowpaw was paired with Poppydawn, who was a bit old but a brilliant hunter. Beyond them, Spottedpaw glimpsed the other apprentices: Frostpaw, Brindlepaw, and Whitepaw, who were shouting the new names the loudest, and Tigerpaw, who was standing a little way off and not shouting anything. Instead he was glaring at the new apprentices as if they’d put brambles in his nest.

  “Ignore him,” Redpaw whispered in Spottedpaw’s ear. “He’s afraid we’ll make him look bad when we learn everything faster than him!”

  “Tigerpaw should be happy to have more apprentices,” Willowpaw pointed out. “He and Whitepaw won’t have to do all the duties now.”

  Halftail padded up to them. “Enough chatter,” he ordered. “Are you ready to see our territory, Redpaw?”

  “Absolutely!” squeaked Redpaw, bouncing on his toes. Then he looked embarrassed and mewed, “Of course, Halftail. Lead the way!”

  The dark brown tom looked quizzically at him. “Well, I wasn’t going to ask you to lead.”

  “We’ll join you,” said Thistleclaw, his tail twitching with amusement at the excited looks on the three new apprentices’ faces. Tigerpaw glowered, but said nothing. Willowpaw widened her eyes at Spottedpaw and Spottedpaw purred back. She didn’t care who came, she just wanted to see outside the ravine!

  Green. So much green. Leaves, branches, trunks, ferns, grass . . . And so many scents! Thrushpelt tried to point out the differences between squirrel, mouse, blackbird, and pigeon, but even though Spottedpaw had encountered all of these on the fresh-kill pile, they smelled new and strange against the background of trees and undergrowth.

  Tigerpaw bounded ahead, giving a running commentary: “This is treecutplace. Twolegs cut down the trees here. I don’t know why.”

  Spottedpaw sniffed the pine-tinged air. The ground was soft and prickly with needles, and there was hardly any trace of prey. Her legs were aching and her paws stung. She hadn’t realized the territory was so huge. How did the border patrols manage to get around so fast?

  Thrushpelt stopped to renew a scent marker, and Thistleclaw slowed until he was walking alongside Spottedpaw. “How are you doing?” he meowed.

  “Okay!” Spottedpaw puffed. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

  Thistleclaw purred. “It won’t seem so far once you’ve been on a few patrols. Can you see that fence over there?”

  Spottedpaw peered between the trunks. The trees stopped beside a line of dark green grass, edged with a long stretch of pale wood. “Did ThunderClan make that?”

  “No, Twolegs did. They live behind that fence in Twolegplace. Watch out for kittypets crossing the border. They’re too fat and useless to steal any prey, but they like to cause trouble.”

  Spottedpaw let her hackles rise and sank her claws into the pine needles. “I’ll chase them out!” she growled. “Sneaky trespassers! They need to learn that this is ThunderClan’s territory, not theirs!”

  Thistleclaw cuffed her gently over the ear. “You’ll make an excellent warrior with that attitude.”

  “Not without learning how to hunt and defend herself,” Thrushpelt put in, joining them at a trot. “You’re looking tired, Spottedpaw. Do you want to go back?”

  Spottedpaw lifted her head. “No way! Can I see the Thunderpath now?”

  She noticed Thistleclaw exchange a glance with Thrushpelt over her head. “You’ll have your paws full with this one,” Thistleclaw commented.

  Thrushpelt flicked the tip of his tail. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he meowed. “We’ll finish patrolling the territory on our own, thanks. I don’t want to keep Tigerpaw from his training.”

  Thistleclaw dipped his head. “No chance of that. Tigerpaw’s the keenest apprentice I’ve ever seen!”

  Wait until you see how keen I can be! Spottedpaw thought as she watched the two cats head back to the camp. I’m going to work harder than any cat to become a warrior!

  “Thrushpelt, you and Spottedpaw can join Adderfang’s hunting patrol with Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw.” Tawnyspots nodded to the cats gathered in front of him. “I expect a full fresh-kill pile by sunhigh!”

  Spottedpaw bounced on her toes. Yes! Now she could show Thistleclaw her hunter’s crouch! She pressed her front paws into the ground and stretched out her back until her tail curled. Thrushpelt had made her practice her crouch over and over again for the last half-moon, and she was confident she could catch anything—even a badger—by now.

  She followed her mentor through the gorse tunnel, screwing up her eyes as a thorn sprang back at her. Thistleclaw was just behind her.

  “I haven’t seen you on a hunting patrol for a while,” he commented as they scrambled up the ravine side by side.

  “Thrushpelt wanted me to get my technique right first,” Spottedpaw explained, puffing slightly.

  “Your hunting skills looked good enough to me before your apprentice ceremony!” Thistleclaw meowed.

  Spottedpaw felt warm under her fur. Before she could reply, Thrushpelt called to her. “Stick close to me, please. I’ll tell you which scents are worth following.”

  Spottedpaw glanced at Thistleclaw and saw him roll his eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your nose, either,” the gray-and-white warrior whispered.

  Swallowing a purr of laughter, Spottedpaw joined her mentor as he fell in behind Adderfang. She could hear Tigerpaw’s heavy footsteps alongside Thistleclaw. If he kept stomping like that, all the prey would be in WindClan before they had a chance to get close!

  They headed for the river through sun-warmed ferns that tickled Spottedpaw’s back. Adderfang picked up the first scent, a powerful waft of river vole, which sent him bounding toward the gray bulk of Sunningrocks. Thrushpelt paused to sniff the air. “Pigeon over there,” he hissed, nodding at a thicket bent double under the weight of starry white elderflowers.

  Spottedpaw started to move forward but Thrushpelt stopped her with his tail on her shoulder. “I’ll take it,” he told her, and stalked away, nose close to the ground.

  Thistleclaw padded up to Spottedpaw. “I just saw a squirrel go up that trunk,” he mewed, gesturing with his muzzle toward a pine tree. “Do you want to follow it?”

  Spottedpaw blinked. “I . . . I haven’t really practiced climbing trees yet. Only once, and Thrushpelt said I wasn’t very good.”

  The gray-and-white warrior twitched one ear. “You’ll be fine! Take it steady, make sure your claws have a good hold on the bark, and don’t look down. Go on, I’ll be here watching you.”

  Spottedpaw glanced around. Thrushpelt had vanished beneath the elderflower bush, and Tigerpaw was pushing his way into a clump of ferns. Thistleclaw gave her a gentle nudge. “You’re not scared, are you?” he teased.

  “Of course not!” Spottedpaw crouched down and sprang onto the lowest branch. It swayed under her weight and she scrambled up to the next one before she could change her mind. Something gray and fluffy whisked around the trunk above her, and she caught the faint scent of squirrel.

  “That’s it! You’re nearly there!” Thistleclaw called from below. Spottedpaw risked a glance down, then wished she hadn’t. The warrior looked tiny from up here, and the forest swam dizzyingly around her. She sank her hind claws more deeply into the branch and stretched up for the next one. It was out of reach by half a fox-length, so she would have to haul herself up the bare trunk.

  Spottedpaw took a deep breath and wriggled her front paws until her claws snagged into the bark. She pushed upward with her haunches and felt her hind paws scrabble in thin air. Before she could plant them on the trunk, a voice came from underneath the tree.

  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing up there? Come back at once!”

  Spottedpaw twisted her head to look down, which loosened her grip on the bark. There was a sha
rp tearing sensation in her front paws and suddenly she was bouncing down the tree, banging her shoulder against the lower branches. The grass zoomed up to meet her in a green blur. Then everything went black.

  She opened her eyes to see Thrushpelt peering down at her. “Spottedpaw, are you all right?”

  She tried to nod, but a searing pain in her shoulder made her gasp out loud.

  “Where does it hurt?” demanded Adderfang, appearing beside Thrushpelt. Spottedpaw’s father looked horrified.

  Thistleclaw’s face joined them. “That was quite a tumble!” he meowed.

  Spottedpaw struggled to sit up and get some air into her chest. The forest whirled around her so she leaned back against the tree to wait for the dizziness to pass.

  “Tigerpaw has gone to fetch Featherwhisker,” Thrushpelt told her. “Keep still.” He pushed a ball of moss soaked with water toward her. “Thistleclaw brought this from the river.”

  Spottedpaw bent down and sucked at the moss. The pain in her shoulder was like a bolt of lightning every time she moved. There was a strange roaring sound in her ears, and she felt sick. “Am I going to be okay?” she whimpered.

  “You’ll be fine,” meowed a brisk voice. Featherwhisker’s soft gray head pushed between the warriors, and he studied her with concern in his eyes. “How far did you fall?”

  “She was trying to reach the third branch,” mewed Thrushpelt. He glared at Thistleclaw. “She should never have been up a tree in the first place. She’s barely learned the hunting crouch!”

  “Then you are training her too slowly,” Thistleclaw retorted. “Tigerpaw was climbing trees after a quarter moon.”

  “This isn’t the time for comparing training methods,” Featherwhisker meowed as he gently pressed his paw along Spottedpaw’s flank. “Come on, let’s get this apprentice back to the camp.”

  With Adderfang taking almost all of her weight on her uninjured side, Spottedpaw hobbled along the path, trying not to whimper out loud. Swiftbreeze bounded over as Spottedpaw scrabbled through the gorse tunnel on her belly. “Great StarClan, what happened? Spottedpaw, are you all right?”

  “Thistleclaw sent her up a tree after a squirrel,” Adderfang meowed.

  “It wasn’t Thistleclaw’s fault!” Spottedpaw protested.

  “It was an accident,” Featherwhisker mewed. “Let’s get you into my den so we can find something to help with the pain.”

  Swiftbreeze took Adderfang’s place and Spottedpaw breathed in her mother’s scent. Every part of her body was aching, even her ears and her teeth. She staggered through the ferns and flopped onto the soft grass beside Featherwhisker’s rock-cleft den. Goosefeather, the medicine cat who had trained Featherwhisker, was dozing in his nest. He briefly looked up at the new arrivals, then lay down again with a grunt.

  Thrushpelt poked his face through the bracken. “I’ll come and see how you are later, Spottedpaw. Don’t worry about your duties; the other apprentices can take care of them. Just focus on getting better.”

  Spottedpaw blinked. “Thanks, Thrushpelt.” She pressed her cheek into the grass and closed her eyes. She felt Swiftbreeze fussing around her, puffs of warm air coming from her muzzle as she sniffed along Spottedpaw’s body. Featherwhisker emerged from his den trailing herby scents.

  “Eat this,” he urged, pressing something slimy and strong-smelling against Spottedpaw’s mouth. Without opening her eyes, she swallowed it down. It tasted bitter but not unpleasant. “That’s comfrey, to help with the swelling, and half a poppy seed to make you sleep.” Featherwhisker ran his paw over Spottedpaw’s head. “Lie still. You’ve taken a nasty knock today, but you’ll feel better soon.”

  “Will she still be able to train?” Swiftbreeze asked.

  Spottedpaw opened her eyes with a jolt. I can’t let an injury stop me from training!

  Featherwhisker rearranged Spottedpaw’s wounded leg so that it was tucked under her more comfortably. “We need to give her a chance to recover first. I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken, but let’s wait and see how she gets on.”

  Spottedpaw fought against the waves of blackness that swelled behind her eyes, dragging her to sleep. Oh StarClan, please let me get better! I promise I won’t do anything stupid again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Spottedpaw raced through the trees, flinching as brambles whipped her muzzle. Her foreleg felt as if it were on fire but she knew she couldn’t slow her pace or something terrible would happen. As she skidded past Snakerocks, she glanced down to see if the fox was still there. Yes, the creature was still clinging on, its jaws locked around her leg, the wound sending flames of agony shooting up to her shoulder. Spottedpaw wasn’t quite sure how she was able to go so fast and drag the fox along with her, but the weight of the creature didn’t seem to slow her down. However quickly she ran, she couldn’t dislodge the thorn-sharp teeth that sank deep into her flesh. . . .

  “Spottedpaw? Spottedpaw, wake up! You’re having a bad dream!”

  Spottedpaw blinked open her eyes to see Featherwhisker bending over her, his pale face creased with concern. “If you don’t stop thrashing about, you won’t have a nest left!” he mewed, straightening the shredded moss.

  Spottedpaw tried to sit up and let out a yelp as her shoulder burned with pain. “Ow!” She flopped back and licked her stinging fur. She noticed that Goosefeather’s nest was empty, and she felt a twinge of guilt. Had she driven him away with her troubled dreams?

  Featherwhisker traced her leg with one paw. “I’m not surprised it’s sore. You gave it a nasty wrench. Leave the trees to squirrels from now on!”

  “But I have to get back to my training!” Spottedpaw wailed. “What if Thrushpelt gets another apprentice?”

  The medicine cat rested his tail on her flank. “Stop panicking. Thrushpelt will wait for you to get better. You’ve only been here for three sunrises.”

  “But that’s too long,” Spottedpaw fretted. “I’m not learning anything! Can’t I start walking today?”

  “Not when you’re in this much pain,” Featherwhisker meowed. “But if you’re really bored, I can find something for you to do.”

  “Like what?” Spottedpaw mewed suspiciously. “I’m not squeezing any dead mice to get out the bile!”

  Featherwhisker purred with amusement. “Don’t worry. I save that particular task for naughty apprentices! You could sort these herbs for me, though. Rosetail gathered tansy and marigold for me yesterday, but she let the leaves get muddled up, and I need to store them separately.” He nudged a heap of strong-smelling greenery toward Spottedpaw. Her nose twitched and she leaned over the edge of her nest to study them more closely.

  “Which one’s which?” she asked.

  Featherwhisker tugged out two stalks with a flick of his paw. “Tansy is the one with the smaller, feathery, pale green leaves, see? Marigold leaves are a similar shape, but bigger and a darker shade of green.”

  Spottedpaw nodded. She wriggled carefully onto her belly, leaving her injured foreleg cushioned on the moss.

  “They smell totally different,” she commented. “That’s the easiest way to tell them apart.”

  Featherwhisker nodded. “Exactly.” He was rolling dock leaves into tight wraps and stacking them neatly against one wall of his den. “Do you know what we use those herbs for?”

  Spottedpaw paused to untangle some stalks that were knotted together. “You gave tansy to Whitepaw when he had a bellyache from eating too much mouse,” she recalled. “But I’ve never seen you use marigold.”

  “Actually, you have,” Featherwhisker corrected her. “Do you remember when Frostpaw got scratched in her eye by that stick?”

  “That wasn’t my fault!” Spottedpaw burst out. “I was just trying to see if it was long enough to reach Weedwhisker. Frostpaw ran into it without looking!”

  Featherwhisker snorted. “I’m not sure poking Weedwhisker while he was trying to sleep was the best idea in the first place, Spottedpaw. Anyway, I used a poultice of marigold to clean Frostpaw’s eye
and keep away any infection.”

  “Infection is when a wound smells bad and doesn’t heal, isn’t it?” Spottedpaw checked.

  “That’s right. I go through a lot of marigold at this time of year, when leaves hide the brambles and warriors are more likely to get scratched. It’s best to use fresh leaves, but dried ones can make a good enough poultice if you add water.”

  Spottedpaw puzzled over two very similar-looking stalks for a moment, then decided that one was a small piece of marigold and the other was definitely tansy. “It’s amazing to think that one little leaf can do so much,” she mewed. “I wonder how the first cats found out?”

  “We have been blessed with some truly gifted medicine cats,” Featherwhisker replied. “StarClan guided their paws and helped them to a store of knowledge that is so vast, I feel as if I have only glimpsed one little corner of it.”

  “But you know what all the herbs do, don’t you?”

  “All of the herbs that are found in ThunderClan territory, yes. But there are plants in other territories that are unfamiliar to me, which is why the medicine cats meet at each half-moon, to share any new discoveries and see if we can help with illnesses and injuries in the other Clans.”

  “Wow,” breathed Spottedpaw. “Do you feel like StarClan? I mean, you have power over life and death!”

  Featherwhisker twitched his ears. “Not as much as I’d like to, little one. We all lose cats that we have tried our hardest to save.”

  Spottedpaw flicked the last leaf onto the tansy pile and sat back in her nest. “Finished! Can I do something else now?”

  The medicine cat looked around the narrow cave. “You could roll the rest of these dock leaves for me while I prepare a poultice for Mumblefoot’s tick bite.”

  “Okay!” Spottedpaw leaned out of her nest and dragged the big shiny leaves toward her. It was a bit tricky to roll them up with one paw, but she figured out how to use her chin to keep the leaf tightly tucked in. On the other side of the den, Featherwhisker started chewing up some sharp-scented dark green leaves.