Firestar's Quest, Page 4

  “This cold weather does nothing for old bones,” Littlebird agreed as she emerged from the elders’ den and headed for the fresh-kill pile. Glancing back, she added, “Are you coming, Silverflame?”

  The she-cat shook her head. “I’m not hungry. The young ones need to eat more than I do.”

  Yellowkit frowned. What does Silverflame mean? All cats need to eat! “Come on,” she urged, giving Silverflame a gentle push. “Let’s go together and find something tasty.”

  “Okay.” With a huge sigh Silverflame rose to her paws.

  Yellowkit thought that the elder’s paw steps looked a bit shaky as she padded over to the fresh-kill pile. Littlebird was already clawing the snow away from it, revealing the heap of frozen prey.

  “Here, try this frog.” Yellowkit dragged it out of the pile and set it down in front of Silverflame.

  The elder blinked at the frog for a couple of heartbeats as if she had never seen one before, then lowered her head and took a small bite. Yellowkit chose a mouse for herself, but kept an eye on Silverflame as she was eating. The old cat was barely picking at her prey. In the sharp, slanting sunlight, Yellowkit could see Silverflame’s bones showing beneath her fur, as if the elder hadn’t been eating properly for days.

  After two or three more bites of the frog, Silverflame pushed it toward Yellowkit with one paw. “I’ve had enough. You finish it.”

  She turned and tottered away, vanishing into the elders’ den. Yellowkit stared anxiously after her. She didn’t want to finish the frog; the mouse she had eaten was weighing heavy in her belly, and she wondered if there might have been something wrong with it. Her fur was still prickling, too.

  There was a rustle of frozen brambles and Sagewhisker emerged into the camp. She carried a few frostbitten twigs in her jaws, and as Yellowkit bounded over to her she recognized shriveled juniper berries clinging to them. “Sagewhisker!” she called, catching up with the medicine cat just outside her den.

  Sagewhisker carefully laid the twigs down. “What is it, Yellowkit?”

  “It’s Silverflame,” Yellowkit explained, struggling to stop her voice from shaking. “I think she’s sick. She doesn’t want to eat anything.”

  Sagewhisker blinked at her. “Silverflame is old,” she mewed. “And leaf-bare is hard for the newest and the oldest members of the Clan.”

  “But she …” Yellowkit’s voice died away. There aren’t any herbs to stop a cat from getting old, she thought miserably.

  “I’ll look in on her,” Sagewhisker promised.

  Yellowkit nodded, knowing she had to accept what the medicine cat said. I wish I could do something to help. Then she remembered how thirsty Silverflame always seemed. She must get so cold, coming out to drink at the pool. If I found some moss, I could bring her a drink into her den.

  Feeling better now that she had a plan, Yellowkit plunged through the snow to where a fallen tree lay among the thornbushes that surrounded the camp. As she pushed her way beneath the spiky branches she dislodged clumps of snow that showered down over her head and shoulders. Yellowkit let out a snarl as she shook the icy flakes from her pelt.

  The moss-covered tree was just ahead of her. But as she reached out to strip off a pawful of moss, Yellowkit heard voices on the other side of the brambles. Curious, she scrambled over the tree trunk and wriggled farther through the thorns, her paws tingling with excitement as she realized she was almost outside the camp. Peering cautiously through the branches, Yellowkit saw a flat stretch of ground enclosed by the dark trunks of pine trees. The surface of the snow was churned up, and Brackenfoot was standing with Raggedpaw in the middle of the rough patch.

  “You’ve learned that move really well,” Brackenfoot was meowing. “Now you need to work on getting more power into your swipe. Let’s try it again.”

  Yellowkit watched, fascinated, as Brackenfoot crouched down in the snow and Raggedpaw charged at him, darting in to rake his paw over his mentor’s ear, and leaping back before Brackenfoot could retaliate.

  “Better,” Brackenfoot praised him. “Try again. Harder!”

  This time Brackenfoot rose to his paws and waited with muscles tensed for Raggedpaw’s attack. As Raggedpaw struck out, Brackenfoot ducked so that the blow only ruffled his fur. Raggedpaw leaped at him again and suddenly the two cats were locked together, swiping at each other with all four paws as they struggled to pin the other to the ground.

  Yellowkit drew in a breath of mingled excitement and horror, terrified that her Clanmates would injure each other, until she noticed that they were fighting with sheathed claws.

  I can’t believe how good Raggedpaw is, she thought with a twinge of envy. He’s still only an apprentice!

  A moment later, Raggedpaw let out a yowl of triumph. He was standing on top of Brackenfoot, his forepaws pinning down his mentor’s shoulders, while one hind paw was fixed firmly on his tail. Brackenfoot was panting, his eyes half-closed and his muscles limp. Yellowkit’s eyes widened in dismay and she flexed her claws, ready to dash out and defend her father.

  “I won!” Raggedpaw meowed. His eyes blazed as he looked down at his mentor. “I’m the best fighter in the Clan!”

  Before the last words were out of his jaws, Brackenfoot surged upward, flinging Raggedpaw off him and rolling him over in the snow. “What was that again?” he asked mildly as Raggedpaw scrambled up with snow clumped all over his pelt.

  Yellowkit let out a gleeful mrrow to see that her father hadn’t lost the battle after all. Raggedpaw thinks he’s so great …

  Raggedpaw glared at his mentor. “You cheated! You pretended to be beaten!”

  “And you think that an enemy won’t do that when you fight in a real battle? You’re doing well, Raggedpaw, and you’ll be a great fighter one day, but you still have a lot to learn.”

  Raggedpaw shook himself, spraying snow everywhere. His shoulders sagged. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. Will you teach me that move?”

  “Another time,” Brackenfoot promised. “We’ve done enough for today. Let’s get back to camp, and you can take something from the fresh-kill pile.”

  “Thanks!” Raggedpaw’s eyes glowed. “I’m starving!”

  Brackenfoot turned toward the camp entrance and Raggedpaw was about to follow. Suddenly he froze and Yellowkit shrank back as she realized the apprentice was staring straight at her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Raggedpaw demanded. “Hey, Brackenfoot, Yellowkit’s spying on us!”

  Brackenfoot glanced back, spotting his daughter among the thorns. “Don’t be such a mouse-brain,” he told Raggedpaw. “Yellowkit can watch if she wants. She might learn something.”

  Raggedpaw let out a snort of disgust, but said nothing more. Her fur hot with embarrassment, Yellowkit scrambled backward until she reached the fallen tree again. Tearing off a pawful of thick moss, she scampered across the camp to soak it in the puddle before carrying it to the elders’ den.

  “Here, Silverflame,” she mumbled around her mouthful as she poked her head underneath the branches. “I brought you a drink.”

  All three elders were huddled together in the shelter of the stump. Littlebird narrowed her eyes at Yellowkit. “Keep that wet moss away from our bedding,” she snapped.

  “Yes,” Lizardfang agreed. “You should know better than to bring it in here.”

  Yellowkit suppressed an angry hiss, remembering she ought to be polite to the elders, even when they were being a pain in the tail.

  “Leave her alone,” Silverflame meowed. “That was a very kind thought, Yellowkit.” Gesturing with her tail, she added, “Put the moss down there, well away from the bedding.”

  When Yellowkit had obeyed, Silverflame stretched out her neck and lapped at the dripping fronds. “Great StarClan, that’s good,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

  Shooting a smug glance at the two other elders, Yellowkit was about to reply when she heard Cedarstar’s voice from outside in the camp.

  “Let all cats old enough to c
atch their own prey join here beneath the Clanrock for a meeting!”

  “For StarClan’s sake, what now?” Lizardfang complained.

  Dipping her head briefly to the elders, Yellowkit backed out of the den, almost colliding with her mother as she spun around to see what was going on.

  “There you are!” Brightflower exclaimed. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” Yellowkit mewed.

  Just behind her mother, she spotted Rowankit and Nutkit, looking unusually well groomed. Nutkit was bouncing up and down on his paws, while Rowankit’s eyes were wide and shining.

  “You’re going to be made apprentices,” Brightflower explained.

  Yellowkit stared at her. “Now?”

  “Yes, now, and just look at you!” Brightflower darted out a paw and snagged a spiky twig that was stuck in Yellowkit’s pelt. “Any cat would think you’d been wriggling through thorns all day.”

  Yellowkit stood still while Brightflower gave her a quick grooming, flicking bits of thorn and moss out of her fur, and smoothing it with strong strokes of her tongue.

  Meanwhile the cats of ShadowClan were gathering around the Clanrock. All three elders poked their heads out from under the branches that shaded their den. Deerleap and Amberleaf appeared from the warriors’ den, followed closely by Toadskip and Featherstorm. Brackenfoot and Raggedpaw, who were eating beside the fresh-kill pile, finished their prey quickly and turned to listen; Crowtail and Scorchpaw padded over to join them.

  Yellowkit’s belly began to churn. Every cat will be looking at me! What if I get something wrong? Who will be my mentor?

  “This is going to be a hard leaf-bare,” Cedarstar began. “With snow on the ground, we need all the hunters we can get, and border patrols to defend our territory when the other Clans get hungry. So this is a good time to strengthen ShadowClan by making new apprentices. Rowankit, come forward.”

  Rowankit swallowed nervously, then padded forward until she stood beneath the Clanrock.

  Cedarstar’s gaze swept over his Clan. “Finchflight,” he meowed, “you have served your Clan well and you deserve to have another apprentice. I know you will pass on your skills to Rowanpaw.”

  Rowanpaw gave a little skip of delight at the sound of her new name, then trotted over to Finchflight and touched noses with him. The black-and-white tom let out an approving purr.

  Cedarstar beckoned Nutkit with his tail. “Nutkit, come forward,” he meowed.

  Nutkit paced proudly across the clearing.

  “Amberleaf,” Cedarstar continued, dipping his head to the dark orange she-cat, “you are a skilled warrior, and I know you will give Nutpaw the training he needs.”

  Nutpaw’s got Amberleaf! Yellowkit barely stopped herself from exclaiming out loud. She’s so strict! All the young cats were a bit afraid of Amberleaf, who had a scathing tongue when she was annoyed; Yellowkit remembered being scolded by her when she accidentally hit the warrior on the head with a ball of moss.

  Nutpaw looked nervous as he padded across to Amberleaf to touch noses, but relaxed as the she-cat murmured, “I’ll make you the best warrior you can be.”

  Yellowkit’s heart began pounding harder. When Cedarstar beckoned to her, she padded across the clearing with as much dignity as she could muster.

  StarClan, please don’t let me trip over a twig!

  “Deerleap, you are a wise and experienced cat,” Cedarstar mewed. “I know that you will pass on your qualities to Yellowpaw.”

  Yellowpaw spun around to face Deerleap. The gray tabby she-cat had stepped into the clearing, waiting for her. As she approached her mentor, Yellowpaw saw the friendly gleam in Deerleap’s eyes, and decided she was very satisfied with the choice that Cedarstar had made for her.

  “I’ll do the best I can, I promise!” she mewed fervently as they touched noses.

  Any reply was drowned in the cheers of the Clan as they greeted the new apprentices by their names. “Nutpaw! Yellowpaw! Rowanpaw!”

  Yellowpaw saw Brightflower and Brackenfoot standing side by side, identical expressions of pride on their faces and in their shining eyes. She felt happy enough to burst.

  “Okay,” Deerleap meowed to Yellowpaw when the noise had died down and the cats were beginning to drift away. “Why don’t we go out for our tour of the territory before it gets dark?”

  “Great!” Every hair on Yellowpaw’s pelt bristled with excitement. “Let’s go!”

  But as she followed Deerleap across the camp toward the brambles where Nutpaw and Rowanpaw were already vanishing with their mentors, she staggered as a sharp pain shot through her belly. She couldn’t suppress a yelp.

  Deerleap turned around. “What’s the matter?”

  Yellowpaw could hardly stay on her paws. The pain filled her body, darkening her vision. She had never felt anything so bad.

  “Pain … it hurts …” she managed to gasp.

  “You’d better see Sagewhisker,” Deerleap meowed.

  “But … I want to see the … the territory,” Yellowpaw protested.

  “The territory won’t go away.” Deerleap’s voice was determined. She laid her tail across her apprentice’s shoulders. “Come along.”

  As she stumbled across the camp, Yellowpaw fought against her disappointment. I want to start training now. I don’t have time to be sick.

  But when she reached the medicine cat’s den, there was no sign of her.

  “You looking for Sagewhisker?” Toadskip was on his way to the fresh-kill pile. “I saw her go into the elders’ den.”

  “Thanks, Toadskip.” Deerleap led the way toward the tree stump.

  When they approached the den, Yellowpaw heard drawn-out moans, as if a cat was in agony. Yellowpaw’s pain had ebbed a little, but her fur felt strange and began prickling, harder and harder with every paw step she took. She was scared of what she might find in the elders’ den, and could hardly force herself to go in.

  When she ducked underneath the outer branches of the den, she saw Silverflame stretched in her nest, her body twisted and her eyes glazed with pain. Sagewhisker was crouching over her, while Lizardfang and Littlebird huddled together at the far side, their faces full of fear and pity. The floor was strewn with different herbs, their sharp scents mingling with another sweetish smell that made Yellowpaw gag.

  Silverflame is really sick!

  “Yes—what is it?” Sagewhisker snapped, not shifting her gaze from the old she-cat.

  “I had a pain … but it’s nothing,” Yellowpaw stammered.

  “Okay.” Sagewhisker paused to chew up a mouthful of leaves. “See me tomorrow if it doesn’t clear up.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Unable to bear watching Silverflame any longer, Yellowpaw backed out of the den.

  “Are you feeling okay now?” Deerleap asked, a tinge of impatience in her voice. “Because if you are, we can set off.”

  Yellowpaw nodded, trying to ignore the nagging pain in her stomach; when she breathed in the scent of the herbs it had faded to a tolerable ache. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  Deerleap led the way through the brambles. Excitement surged over Yellowpaw as she followed, almost driving out her anxiety about Silverflame. Heartbeats later, she stood outside the camp for the first time. Pine trees stretched into the distance on every side.

  “Wow!” she breathed. “The forest goes on forever!”

  “Not quite,” Deerleap responded, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Come on. We’ll go this way.”

  The ground between the trees was flat and almost clear of undergrowth. Yellowpaw spotted tracks crisscrossing it: the spiky claw marks of birds, cat paw prints from an earlier patrol, and larger prints, tipped with claws, that she had never seen before. She paused to sniff at them and picked up a trace of a rank smell that felt faintly threatening.

  Deerleap had halted and was looking back. “Come on, Yellowpaw.”

  “What’s this?” Yellowpaw mewed.

  Deerleap gave th
e tracks a swift glance. “Fox,” she stated.

  Yellowpaw shivered and glanced around, half expecting to spot a slim russet shape slinking among the trees. She had never seen a fox, but she had heard plenty of stories about them.

  “It’s okay,” Deerleap told her. “That scent is stale. But we need to keep a lookout whenever we’re outside the camp.”

  Yellowpaw flexed her claws, wondering what it would be like to fight a fox. Movement among the trees caught her eye, but no fox appeared. Instead, it was a ShadowClan hunting patrol. Cedarstar was leading the way back to camp, with Archeye and Featherstorm, all of them carrying prey. Deerleap called a greeting, and the Clan leader waved his tail in acknowledgment.

  A short while later the pine trees thinned out, replaced by bushes mounded with snow and reeds whose feathery tops rattled together in the breeze. The flat ground became uneven, with hidden hollows filled with snow. Yellowpaw let out a squeak as she slid down a dip and sank deep into the powdery white stuff. Deerleap is going to think I’m a stupid kit!

  But Deerleap just waited until Yellowpaw struggled out, and didn’t make any comment. “When the weather is warmer, the ground here is marshy and wet,” she meowed. “It’s a good place for catching frogs.”

  Yellowpaw nodded. Silverflame used to enjoy frogs, she thought, remembering how the elder hadn’t been eating properly for ages. She realized that Deerleap had asked her a question and had paused, waiting for an answer.

  “Sorry,” Yellowpaw muttered. “What was that?”

  Deerleap sighed. “I asked what you thought would be the best way to catch a frog.”

  “I … um …” Yellowpaw thought fast. “Hide in the reeds and jump out at it?” she suggested.

  Her mentor twitched her whiskers. “That might work. But remember frogs can swim too. It’s best to find one on land. Two cats can hunt better than one: one to cut the frog off from the pool it came out of, and one to catch it. We’ll practice with the other apprentices when newleaf comes.”

  “Great!” Yellowpaw responded, though her thoughts of Silverflame moaning in agony dampened her enthusiasm.

  They came to the edge of the marsh and padded through another belt of pine trees. The trees grew more sparsely here, and reddish, hard-edged shapes loomed beyond the last of them, as tall as the highest trunks.