Firestar's Quest

by Erin Hunter

  “And mine,” Nutwhisker added. “And can you show me that tricky claw-and-leap battle move? I saw you can do it, but I haven’t got it quite right.”

  “Sure.” Brokentail dipped his head, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.

  Boulder loped up and gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to chasing foxes with you,” he told Brokentail.

  The new warrior gave Boulder a return cuff that sent him staggering. “We’ll shred them,” he agreed.

  Then Foxheart shouldered her way through the crowd. “Congratulations, Brokentail,” she meowed graciously. “ShadowClan needs keen young warriors like you.”

  Does she think she’s Clan leader already? Yellowfang wondered, bristling at the deputy’s superior tones.

  She realized that Raggedstar was standing beside her. “My son will go far,” he murmured in her ear. “He is everything I ever hoped for.” He looked at Yellowfang with a challenge in his eyes, as if he was daring her to say that Brokentail was her son too.

  I won’t play that game. I know I have given up any claim to him that I once had.

  Politely Yellowfang dipped her head to the cat who had once meant everything to her. “I’m sure he has a bright future in the Clan,” she meowed.

  CHAPTER 31

  Yellowfang shivered beneath her thick pelt. Leaf-bare had descended on the forest and the clearing was covered in snow. Her paws sank deeply into it; her pads felt as if they were about to fall off, they were so cold. Flicking a bit of leaf from behind her ear, Yellowfang knew that she needed to give herself a good grooming. But there never seems to be time....

  Now she headed for Raggedstar’s den, ducking beneath the oak roots out of the worst of the snow. To her dismay she saw that Foxheart was there, her head bent close to the leader’s as they talked together.

  It was Foxheart who noticed Yellowfang first. “What do you want?”

  Yellowfang refused to let the Clan deputy’s rudeness get to her. “I need to speak to Raggedstar.”

  “Can’t you see he’s busy?” Foxheart snapped. “Come back later.”

  Yellowfang merely waited, her gaze fixed on Raggedstar.

  “No, you can speak now.” The Clan leader’s voice had an impatient edge. “What is it?”

  “I don’t think Nightpelt can continue with his warrior duties,” Yellowfang told him. “His cough is getting much worse, and he’s too tired and weak for patrols.”

  Foxheart’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you can’t cure him? Aren’t you supposed to be the medicine cat?”

  “I’ve tried everything,” Yellowfang hissed through gritted teeth. “Some cats have coughs that don’t go away. I think it has something to do with his breathing. If he doesn’t give up his duties, he’ll just get sicker and sicker.”

  “We need all our warriors!” Foxheart protested.

  Raggedstar stretched out his tail and laid it on Foxheart’s shoulder. “Send Nightpelt to me,” he ordered Yellowfang. “If it’s what he wants, then I won’t force him to continue with warrior duties. But it’s his decision, Yellowfang!”

  Returning to her den, Yellowfang found Boulder waiting for her. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  Boulder stretched out one forepaw. “I’ve got a thorn in it,” he announced cheerfully. “I tried to get it out myself, but I can’t shift it.”

  “Well, that’s what your medicine cat is for,” Yellowfang responded. “Let’s have a look.”

  The thorn had been pushed a long way into Boulder’s pad, and it took a lot of licking before Yellowfang could catch it in her teeth.

  “I was on patrol with Brokentail,” Boulder meowed as she worked. “Great StarClan, he’s a good warrior! We should all try to be like him.”

  Yellowfang, vigorously licking, tried not to react to this praise of her son.

  “I was just a bit too keen on chasing a blackbird,” Boulder went on. “To tell you the truth, I think I was trying to impress Brokentail. The bird went into a thornbush, and I was fool enough to go after it.”

  “Did you catch it?” Yellowfang meowed.

  “Yes—ow!” Boulder let out a yelp as the thorn came free.

  “Then you weren’t a fool. Give your paw a good lick,” Yellowfang instructed him, “and come back if the paw swells or if it continues to hurt.”

  “Thanks, Yellowfang.” Boulder ran his tongue over his pad a few times, then rose to his paws. “I’d better get back on patrol.” He dashed off.

  Runningpaw, who had been tidying the herb stores at the back of the den, turned to look at his mentor. “I wouldn’t want to live in a Clan full of Brokentails,” he remarked. “He’s too … fierce!” He went back to his herbs, then stopped, looking thoughtful, with a borage leaf in one paw. “I wonder who Brokentail’s mother is. Do you have any ideas, Yellowfang? Was she a kittypet, like some cats say? Or was it Foxheart all along?”

  “I don’t have time for idle gossip,” Yellowfang snorted. “Why are you standing there like an uneaten bit of fresh-kill, instead of sorting the comfrey from the foxgloves?”

  Runningpaw sniffed as he gave her an injured look, but yowls from the clearing outside interrupted any reply he was about to make. Looking out between the boulders, Yellowfang saw cats bursting through the thorns, and recognized Lizardstripe’s border patrol. A single glance told her that some of the cats had been badly scratched.

  “Bring cobweb and marigold,” she ordered Runningpaw, then bounded to meet the wounded cats in the center of the clearing.

  Raggedstar and Foxheart emerged from the leader’s den and raced to join the others. “What happened?” Raggedstar demanded.

  “Rats attacked us near the Carrionplace,” Lizardstripe panted. Her fur was bristling and blood dripped from a scratch on her belly.

  “And we weren’t even hunting them!” Wolfstep added indignantly.

  While Lizardstripe described in more detail what had happened, Yellowfang and Runningpaw started to treat the wounds. Wolfstep had a torn ear, but it had already stopped bleeding; Yellowfang licked it clean, then gave him a marigold leaf to rub on it.

  “Look at this bite,” Runningpaw mewed, beckoning Yellowfang over to Tangleburr. “I think it might get infected.”

  Yellowfang nodded as she examined the bite on Tangleburr’s shoulder. “That’s always a risk with rat bites. Tangleburr, wait for me in my den, and I’ll find you some burdock root.”

  “Thanks, Yellowfang.” The young she-cat limped off.

  Yellowfang padded over to Lizardstripe. “I need to see that scratch on your belly,” she told her.

  Lizardstripe flicked her tail. “Not now. Can’t you see I’m talking to Raggedstar?”

  Suit yourself, Yellowfang thought. Bleed all over the camp. See if I care.

  While she was checking Brackenfoot and Fernshade, more cats appeared at the entrance to the camp. Yellowfang looked up to see Brokentail and his hunting patrol, laden with prey.

  Brokentail, carrying a huge pigeon, padded up to the group in the middle of the clearing. “What’s going on?” he asked, dropping the dead bird.

  “Rats attacked us near the Carrionplace,” Fernshade told him, while Wolfstep exclaimed, “Great catch, Brokentail!”

  “Yeah, I climbed a tree to get it,” Brokentail mewed casually, then turned to Raggedstar. “How long are we going to put up with these rats?” he demanded with a lash of his tail. “We need to teach them a lesson!”

  “What do you suggest?” Raggedstar prompted.

  Yellowfang remembered the doomed attack on Carrionplace seasons before, when Cedarstar had lost a life. Please, StarClan, not that again!

  “We can’t fight all the rats,” Brokentail told Raggedstar. “We don’t know how many there are. Instead, we should single out a few of them and kill them in view of the others, as a warning.”

  Yellowfang heard a few doubtful murmurs from the cats surrounding Brokentail, but others were nodding in agreement.

  “It might be worth a try,” Fernsh
ade murmured.

  “Right,” Foxheart meowed. “We tried ambushing them with a mass attack, and it didn’t work. Perhaps this is the only way.”

  Raggedstar looked thoughtful, then straightened up. “Brokentail, come with me to my den. We’ll discuss this in more detail.” He led the way across the camp with Brokentail padding at his shoulder. Foxheart followed them.

  Yellowfang sent Runningpaw back to the den to prepare a burdock root poultice for Tangleburr. Meanwhile she managed to persuade Lizardstripe to let her look at the scratch. By now it had stopped bleeding. Relieved that she didn’t have to do more, Yellowfang gave Lizardstripe some marigold and sent her to rest in the warriors’ den.

  Tangleburr was just leaving when Yellowfang got back to her den, the burdock root poultice securely in place. “Let me have another look at that tomorrow,” Yellowfang told her.

  Tangleburr thanked her and went off with a wave of her tail.

  “That poultice was a neat bit of work,” Yellowfang told Runningpaw. “Now we need to sort out some herbs for this battle with the rats.”

  Runningpaw gulped. “You mean we’ll be in the battle?”

  “No, but we’ll be nearby. If there are injuries, we can treat them on the spot. Get out more marigold, and some chervil, and we’d better have burdock root too.”

  “I heard about the last battle with the rats,” Runningpaw mewed as he began uncovering the herb stores. He gave Yellowfang a look in which excitement mingled with nervousness. “What do you think will happen this time?”

  “I don’t know,” Yellowfang responded grimly, “but I’m not happy about our chances. There are just too many rats.” Padding over to the thornbush to unhook some cobwebs, she realized that their stocks were low. “I’m going out to get some more of this,” she told Runningpaw. “Make leaf wraps of those herbs so we can carry them easily.”

  Once out of the camp, Yellowfang headed for a nearby oak tree that was covered with ivy, a perfect place for gathering cobwebs. As she stretched up to reach them, a voice spoke behind her.

  “Do you need any help with that?”

  Yellowfang turned to see Nightpelt. He began clawing cobwebs down and collecting them in a ball at the foot of the tree. “This is for the rat battle, right?” he mewed.

  Yellowfang nodded.

  “You know I won’t be taking part?” Nightpelt went on quietly. “I’ve decided to join the elders.”

  Yellowfang stopped gathering cobwebs to gaze at him, sadness welling up inside her. “I’m so sorry that I was never able to cure you,” she mewed.

  Nightpelt started to speak, broke off to cough, then continued, “It’s not your fault. I know you tried. I just wish StarClan would tell me why they made this my destiny!” He let out a long sigh. “I wanted to be a great warrior!”

  “And you are,” Yellowfang assured him. “But your Clan needs you to be safe and well more than they need your hunting skills. You can still be part of the life of the Clan. Try telling Littlebird she’s less important than she used to be!”

  Nightpelt nodded, but Yellowfang could see that she hadn’t managed to chase the depression from his eyes.

  Dawn was breaking as the ShadowClan cats gathered around Raggedstar in the center of the clearing. Gray clouds covered the sky and a thin sleet was falling. Yellowfang shivered as she and Runningpaw joined the back of the crowd.

  “This is the plan,” Raggedstar meowed, raising his voice so that all the Clan could hear. “Two cats—that’s Foxheart and me—will draw the rats out by pretending to hunt at the edge of Carrionplace. Brokentail, Cloudpelt, Blackfoot, and Finchflight will lie in wait to jump out and circle the first few rats to appear. Brokentail will give the signal. Brackenfoot, Newtspeck, Clawface, Fernshade, and Scorchwind, you will hold back any other rats so they can watch while we kill their denmates.” His gaze swept around the warriors. “Any questions?”

  No cat responded. Brokentail’s eyes were gleaming.

  “Then let’s go!” Raggedstar yowled.

  Yellowfang and Runningpaw picked up their supplies and followed the patrol as the Clan leader led the way out of camp. Yellowfang spotted Nightpelt watching them with the other elders outside their den. You’re better off out of this, she thought, though she understood how disappointed the young cat must feel, seeing his Clanmates go off to battle without him.

  As the Carrionplace loomed into sight, Yellowfang flinched at the familiar stink and the shrieks of the white birds that flapped over the heaps of Twoleg garbage. She began to brace herself to block out the pain of the wounds that would inevitably come. I am whole and well, I have no injuries, I feel no pain.

  She led Runningpaw to the same holly bush where she and Sagewhisker had sheltered during the previous battle, though her belly felt cold at the memories it conjured up. As she set her herbs down beneath the branches, Yellowfang noticed that part of the silver mesh had fallen down, so it was easy for the cats to get into the Carrionplace. And the rats can get out to where Brokentail is waiting.

  Brackenfoot led his part of the patrol in among the rotting piles, where they swiftly disappeared. Meanwhile Brokentail directed the cats under his command into hiding places among the trees and bushes. Raggedstar and Foxheart were left alone in front of the gap in the silver mesh, at the edge of the closest pile of waste.

  “They’re really brave!” Runningpaw commented.

  Yellowfang murmured agreement as she watched the two cats go through the motions of hunting: tasting the air, sniffing around the roots of trees, crouching to creep up on tangles of bramble or clumps of fern. She kept watching, her heart pounding, as a rat poked its head out, then edged its way into the open. It was soon joined by another, then a third, then more. They crept forward, almost as far as the silver mesh. Their glittering gaze was fixed on the cats who were apparently too stupid to notice them.

  But Raggedstar and Foxheart clearly knew they were there. Skillfully they moved farther away, tempting the rats away from the safety of the heaps. Once they were well clear of the silver mesh, Brokentail, Cloudpelt, Blizzardwing, and Finchflight leaped out of their hiding places. Raggedstar and Foxheart sprang forward, until the rats were surrounded.

  “Prepare to die!” Brokentail snarled.

  CHAPTER 32

  A rustle of rat noise came from the heaps of waste, but Brackenfoot and his patrol sprang out of hiding and guarded the holes. Yellowfang could see twitching noses and the gleam of malignant eyes, but for the moment at least none of the rats dared emerge.

  “Don’t let them out!” Brackenfoot yowled. “But keep far enough back so they can watch what happens!”

  “Flea-pelts!” Brokentail taunted the captured rats, springing forward to score his claws down the flank of the nearest, then darting out again. “Crow-food eaters!”

  The rest of the patrol copied him, driving the rats together into a tight knot and wounding them while staying out of reach of their claws. Yellowfang dug her claws into the ground. “Get on with it, before something goes wrong!” she muttered.

  A heartbeat later, two rats, terrified and desperate, sprang out of the huddle and leaped upon Foxheart. Yellowfang stared in disbelief at how precise their movements were, like trained hunters. Foxheart let out a screech and crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from her neck.

  “No!” Raggedstar yowled.

  In the same instant, Brokentail and Cloudpelt leaped on the two rats who had attacked Foxheart, breaking their necks and tossing them into the air. Raggedstar hurled himself into the center of the knot of rats, his Clanmates only a heartbeat behind, their claws slashing and tearing. The orderly plan broke up into a chaos of shrieks and blood.

  “Great StarClan!” Runningpaw whispered.

  Even Yellowfang was awed as she watched the slaughter, the rats struggling to escape only to be clawed back. They hurled themselves on the warriors, who met their onslaught with teeth that ripped into them and left the rats twitching as their blood soaked into the snow.

  Within momen
ts it was over. The last of the rats that had been tempted out were dead and the ShadowClan warriors stood over them, panting. Apart from Foxheart, who lay ominously still, none of them seemed to have serious injuries. Raggedstar called Brackenfoot and the others out of the Carrionplace, while Brokentail worked himself underneath Foxheart’s body and draped her over his shoulders. He was covered in blood but as far as Yellowfang could see, it all belonged to the rats.

  “We won,” Runningpaw mewed, sounding stunned.

  “Yes,” Yellowfang agreed grimly, gazing at Foxheart’s body. But we paid a high price. I didn’t like her. I didn’t want to serve under her as leader. But she was too young to die.

  The elders and the few cats who had remained in the camp gathered around as the warriors returned. Yellowfang spotted Rowanberry looking in horror from the entrance to the nursery as Brokentail laid Foxheart’s body in the middle of the clearing. A flash of joy warmed Yellowfang at the sight of her sister’s kits, Cinderkit and Stumpykit, peering out curiously beside their mother.

  Warriors die, but the Clan survives.

  Foxheart’s mother, Poolcloud, dashed out of the warriors’ den and flung herself to the ground beside her daughter. “StarClan, no!” she wailed. “Why did you have to take her?”

  Wolfstep followed his mother out and crouched beside her, pushing his nose into his sister’s blood-soaked fur. “Good-bye,” he rasped. “We were so proud of you. You would have made a great leader.”

  Cloudpelt, who shared a father with Wolfstep and Foxheart, padded over to her and bowed his head. “She died like a warrior,” he meowed.

  Yellowfang took her place beside Foxheart’s head. “We will keep vigil for her,” she announced.

  Raggedstar stayed for a short time beside the body of his deputy, then vanished into his den, reappearing as the moon rose above the trees. Leaping onto the Clanrock he summoned the Clan, though most of them were already in the clearing, clustered around Foxheart.

  “I grieve for Foxheart,” the Clan leader began. “She served us well, and should have continued to do so for many seasons to come. But she died bravely, protecting her Clan from rats. She will have a place of honor in StarClan.” He paused, looking down at his Clan, and Yellowfang could feel the tension mounting, for every cat knew that this was the moment when Raggedstar must announce the name of his new deputy. Several of the cats glanced at Brokentail, who was looking particularly alert, his eyes gleaming.