by Erin Hunter
“Shrewpaw!” Hareflight’s mew was sharp. “Dawnstripe warned you that it’s Tallpaw’s first time.”
As Tallpaw scrambled to his paws, he saw Shrewpaw roll his eyes. “Why do I get stuck training with a kit?”
Tallpaw faced him, nose stinging. “I’m not a kit,” he hissed. “Try again.”
Shrewpaw crouched, wiggling his hindquarters. Tallpaw watched him. As Shrewpaw leaped, he reared and lifted his forepaws, quicker this time. Shrewpaw hit him more slowly and Tallpaw found it easy to flip him away with a sharp shove. As Shrewpaw rolled dramatically onto the grass beside him, Tallpaw felt a twinge of satisfaction.
Then claws jabbed his ribs. Tallpaw gasped. Shrewpaw had thrust out a hind leg as he rolled and caught him in the side.
“Sorry!” Shrewpaw jumped up. “It was an accident.”
Yeah, right. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. I bet we’re supposed to keep our claws sheathed in practice!
“Try it again,” Dawnstripe encouraged. “This time, move as you push him away, Tallpaw. You need to land ready for the next attack.”
Tallpaw nodded and faced Shrewpaw once more. Shrewpaw’s tail-tip was flicking. You still think I’m a tunneler. Tallpaw flexed his claws, fighting the urge to unsheathe them. I’ll show you.
Shrewpaw sprang into the air. Tallpaw froze for moment, then, seeing daylight beneath the young tom’s belly, he ducked beneath it and bucked like a rabbit. He felt Shrewpaw’s weight on his back, and pushed his spine into his denmate’s belly. Shrewpaw yelped as Tallpaw tossed him backward. Tallpaw turned on his hind paws. Shrewpaw was writhing on the grass. Tallpaw reared over him and Shrewpaw stared up, his eyes wide with shock.
Forepaws raised, Tallpaw showed his teeth for a moment before dropping onto all fours and padding away. “How was that?” he asked Dawnstripe.
Dawnstripe blinked at him. “Not exactly what I expected.”
“It was excellent,” Hareflight purred. “Great work, Tallpaw.”
Shrewpaw clambered to his paws, scowling. “He was supposed to be practicing defense moves, not attack.”
Tallpaw prickled. Everything he did seemed to annoy Shrewpaw. He lifted his chin. “I was defending myself. It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your balance.”
“You cheated, Wormpaw.” Shrewpaw stalked past him and pushed into the heather. “Can we get something to eat now?”
Dawnstripe and Hareflight exchanged glances before Hareflight hurried to catch up with his apprentice.
“Well done, Tallpaw.” Dawnstripe fell in beside him as they followed the others along a narrow trail.
“Thanks.” Satisfaction warmed Tallpaw’s pelt.
“Don’t worry about Shrewpaw,” Dawnstripe reassured him. “He’s used to training with older apprentices. Hareflight will have a word with him about his attitude.”
“A tabby can’t change his stripes.” Tallpaw sniffed. “Shrewpaw was born with a burr in his fur. I’ll just have to put up with it.”
“Come and share this rabbit!” Barkpaw called from beside the Hunting Stones as Tallpaw ducked into camp. The scent of fresh prey reached Tallpaw’s tongue. He bounded over the tussocks and stopped in the patch of sunshine where Barkpaw was tearing flesh from a rabbit carcass. Suddenly realizing how tired he was, Tallpaw flopped down beside his friend.
“Here.” Barkpaw shoved the rabbit toward Tallpaw.
“Thanks.” Tallpaw leaned forward and took a bite.
“How was training?” Barkpaw asked.
Tallpaw glanced at Shrewpaw, who was sniffing disdainfully at a vole on the prey-heap. He wished he could tell Barkpaw what a pain in the tail Shrewpaw had been. But they were littermates. And a true warrior didn’t complain about his Clanmates. “It was great.” The memory of chasing across the grass with the apprentices at his heels thrilled Tallpaw once more. He felt a stab of delight as he remembered flipping Shrewpaw onto his back. “I learned a lot.”
Barkpaw took another bite of rabbit. “I learned how to make a dressing for scratches today,” he told Tallpaw with his mouth full. “It draws infection out of rotten wounds.”
Tallpaw’s belly tightened. “That sounds . . .” He searched for words while he fought back queasiness. “. . . interesting.” I’m glad I’m training as a warrior.
“I made it for Whiteberry’s ear.” Barkpaw kept on chewing. “He’s got an infected tick bite. I added juniper sap. That’ll loosen the tick. It was so swollen I thought its skin would burst.”
Tallpaw stared at him, the scent of rabbit suddenly making him feel sick. “How’s Hawkheart?” he asked, changing the subject.
“He’s a really good teacher,” Barkpaw mewed. “It’s hard keeping up but I’m learning so much.”
Tallpaw noticed Shrewpaw heading toward them. Ignoring his queasiness, he took a bite of rabbit. Shrewpaw reached them as he was swallowing. The dark brown tom flung a mouse onto the ground. “Have you cured anyone yet?” he asked, settling down beside Barkpaw.
Barkpaw swallowed. “I won’t know until tomorrow.”
Tallpaw pulled another mouthful of flesh from the rabbit. Shrewpaw munched on his mouse. Barkpaw glanced uneasily from one to the other before blurting out, “It must be fun training together.”
Tallpaw met Shrewpaw’s gaze, wondering what the brown tom would say.
Shrewpaw shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Tallpaw blinked, surprised at Shrewpaw’s reply. “Yeah,” he agreed. Why should they make Barkpaw worry that they weren’t getting along?
He ate till his belly was full, then heaved himself to his paws. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” he told Barkpaw. “I don’t want to stiffen up. Dawnstripe’s taking me out again later.” He nodded at Shrewpaw and headed across camp.
Palebird was crouching outside the nursery. Meadowslip paced beside her. The gray queen had only just moved to the nursery, swollen with Hickorynose’s kits. Her belly swayed as she padded back and forth, tail twitching and ears flicking as if she was too restless to sit still.
Palebird gazed blankly across the camp. Tallpaw frowned. Why wasn’t his mother restless, too? Didn’t she ever wish she were out on the moor? Or back in the tunnels? Wasn’t she bored stuck in camp?
Tallpaw stopped beside her. “You should come and watch me train.”
“What, dear?” Palebird looked up at him distractedly.
“It’d be good for you to get out of the camp.”
Brackenwing leaped out of the Meeting Hollow and hurried over. “Don’t bother Palebird,” she warned. “She needs rest.”
Tallpaw scowled. She’s been resting for six moons. She must have recovered from kitting by now.
“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” Meadowslip explained.
“Tell me about it later, Tallpaw,” Palebird murmured. “I’m sure you’ve had fun.”
Tallpaw’s tail whipped crossly and he slouched away from the nursery, eyeing Barkpaw and Shrewpaw. They were chattering like thrushes now that he was gone.
Behind him, Tallpaw could hear Meadowslip talking to Palebird and Brackenwing. “Do you think the visitors will return this greenleaf?”
Tallpaw’s ears pricked. Visitors?
“I’m sure they will,” Brackenwing answered the young queen. “I can’t remember a time that they didn’t.”
Tallpaw stopped and sat down. He needed a wash after his meal. He might as well wash here, where he could listen to the queens.
“I hope Wee Hen made it through leaf-bare.” Brackenwing lowered her voice. “She was very frail last time we saw her.”
“Whiteberry will be disappointed if she doesn’t come,” Meadowslip commented.
Tallpaw cleaned his muzzle with a freshly licked paw.
Brackenwing purred. “Wee Hen and Whiteberry could swap stories from dawn to dusk. There was talk of her settling with the Clan once.”
“Settling with us?” Meadowslip sounded shocked. “How would we explain her to the other Clans?”
“WindClan wouldn’t be the first to take i
n a rogue,” Brackenwing pointed out.
“But we’re the only Clan that lets visitors share our dens and our prey every greenleaf,” Meadowslip replied. “What would the other Clans say? What if they thought we were training rogues to attack them?”
Tallpaw lapped the fur along his spine as it lifted with interest. He’d never heard of visitors living with the Clan. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned them before?
“Who cares what the other Clans say?” Brackenwing sniffed. “They huddle in the marshes and woods, hiding like prey from the wind and the sun. We live with our tails touching the sky. If we want to share our territory, that’s our choice.”
“Tallpaw!” Dawnstripe called from the camp entrance. Tallpaw jumped to his paws, his fur still wet from washing. Dawnstripe’s whiskers twitched as she beckoned him with her tail. “Put your tongue away and let’s practice some battle moves.”
Tallpaw hurried after her as she ducked through the heather. “Who are the greenleaf visitors?” he asked as he caught up to her on the smooth grass outside camp.
Dawnstripe paused, her eyes narrowing. “Who told you about the greenleaf visitors?”
“Meadowslip and Brackenwing were talking,” he told her.
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“I wasn’t,” Tallpaw protested. “They weren’t exactly whispering.” He frowned at Dawnstripe. “Are the visitors a secret?”
“We don’t talk about them when they’re not here, and especially not outside the Clan.” Dawnstripe headed along the sheep trail that wound through the gorse patch.
Tallpaw trotted after her. “Why do they come?”
Dawnstripe didn’t look back. “They just always have.”
“Do they live in camp with us?”
“Just for greenleaf.”
“Do they join patrols and hunt for the Clan?”
“Sometimes.”
Tallpaw stopped. “Are they rogues?” He stared after Dawnstripe. Why was she acting like he’d discovered a secret? If they came every greenleaf, he was bound to know eventually.
Dawnstripe halted and turned around. “I guess you could call them rogues. They don’t follow the Clan code.”
“Do we have to let them stay with us?” Tallpaw unsheathed his claws. Did WindClan really let a band of rogues take over their camp and their prey every greenleaf?
Dawnstripe swished her tail. “Of course not. We choose to let them stay, and make them welcome.”
“But rogues are bad, aren’t they?” Tallpaw tipped his head on one side.
“Not all rogues are bad.” Dawnstripe kept going along the trail. “Not these rogues.”
Tallpaw trotted after her. “Then why’s it such a secret?”
“It’s best the other Clans don’t know.”
“Why?” Is WindClan breaking the warrior code?
“You sound like a kit.” Dawnstripe nosed her way out onto a stretch of grass. “Stop asking questions and show me that move you used on Shrewpaw this morning.”
CHAPTER 9
Tallpaw paced the camp entrance. Dew soaked his paws. The sun was just lifting over the horizon. Its rays spilled over the heather, setting the purple flowers alight until the moor glowed. Tallpaw was the first cat awake, eager to leave for the dawn patrol. He’d poked Shrewpaw as he padded out of the den, but the dark brown apprentice was still half asleep. Through the gap beneath the gorse, Tallpaw could see him blinking groggily over the edge of his nest.
The long grass rustled beside the Meeting Hollow and Dawnstripe slid out. She yawned and stretched, then padded over the tussocks. “Good morning, Tallpaw.”
“Hi, Dawnstripe.” Tallpaw flicked his tail. “Are we going to check all the borders?” This was his first dawn patrol.
Dawnstripe shook her head. “That would take too long.” She jerked her muzzle toward the long grass where more cats were emerging into the open. “Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Larksplash will patrol the moor-edge and gorge with us. Hareflight, Shrewpaw, Doespring, and Appledawn will re-mark the borders near Fourtrees and ShadowClan.”
Shrewpaw padded, yawning, from the apprentices’ den. “Is there time to raid the prey heap before we leave?” His belly growled.
Tallpaw glanced across the clearing. There was only a stiff vole and a squashed mouse in the pile. “Perhaps you’ll catch something while you’re patrolling.”
Dawnstripe’s ear twitched. “No hunting until the borders have been checked.”
Shrewpaw’s belly rumbled louder.
“Heatherstar will send out a hunting patrol soon.” Dawnstripe tipped her head sympathetically. “There’ll be prey on the heap by the time you get back.”
“How can you be hungry?” Tallpaw was too excited to eat. He padded around Dawnstripe.
Shrewpaw sat down and began to wash his face. “I’ve done dawn patrol before, remember?”
“You can’t be bored of it!” Tallpaw tasted the air, wondering what the moor was like this early. “What if we see an intruder?” he asked Dawnstripe. “Can we chase it?”
“Larksplash is leading the patrol,” Dawnstripe meowed. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Larksplash was already heading toward them. Tallpaw raced to meet her. “If we spot an intruder, can we chase it?”
“It depends.” Larksplash padded past him.
Tallpaw bounced after her. “On what?”
“On whether it’s a sheep or a dog or a rogue.” Larksplash stopped beside Dawnstripe. “If it’s a threat to the Clan, then we chase it.”
Tallpaw’s imagination began to whirl. What if they surprised a RiverClan patrol trying to invade the moor? What if a stray dog needed to be chased off? “When are we leaving?” he mewed to Dawnstripe.
Larksplash answered. “When Ryestalk and Stagleap stop gossiping and join us.”
The young warriors stood at the top of the Meeting Hollow with Doespring. They’d been warriors for a half moon. Tallpaw had watched their ceremony, secretly proud that he’d helped with their assessment. He’d nearly outrun them then, and he was even faster now. With a little more training, he was sure he’d be the fastest cat in the Clan.
“Ryestalk!” Larksplash flicked her tail and the gray she-cat looked up.
“Coming!” Ryestalk leaped over the tussocks with Stagleap close behind. “Sorry!” She skidded to a halt on the wet grass.
Stagleap’s eyes brightened. “Is Tallpaw patrolling with us?”
“Yes.” Tallpaw puffed out his chest.
“Want to race?” Stagleap plucked the ground excitedly.
“Yes, please—”
Larksplash stepped between them. “We’re patrolling, not racing,” she meowed sternly. “I want your attention focused on the borders.”
Tallpaw glanced at his paws, peeking at Stagleap from under his fur.
The dark brown tom’s whiskers were twitching with amusement. “Sorry, Larksplash.” He straightened his tail respectfully, but his whiskers kept twitching.
Tallpaw swallowed a purr. “No racing, I promise. No having fun whatsoever on the dawn patrol.”
Huffing, Larksplash turned away and headed through the entrance.
Ryestalk brushed past Tallpaw. “She doesn’t mean to be bad-tempered,” she whispered. “She’s just not a dawn cat.”
“I know the feeling.” Shrewpaw stared blearily at the rest of his patrol as they headed toward him.
“You’ll feel better once the wind’s in your fur,” Ryestalk promised as she followed Dawnstripe through the entrance.
Outside, the air was sweet with heather blossom. The sun was climbing into a pale blue sky. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes against the glare. He could make out pockets of mist pooling in dips and hollows across the moor. Heat would burn them away before long. It was going to be another scorching day.
Tallpaw felt the breeze in his tail. “Which way?” he asked Larksplash.
She was already heading upslope, toward the high-moor. “We’ll reset the markers along the Thunderpath first.”
“But there’s no Clan beyond that border.” Tallpaw caught up to her, weaving around a clump of heather to stay near her. “Why do we have to mark it?”
“There are rogues and loners out there,” Larksplash reminded him. “It’s only fair to warn them that they’ve reached Clan territory.”
I thought we welcomed rogues. Tallpaw glanced over his shoulder at Dawnstripe. She was watching the horizon. Was she looking out for their greenleaf visitors?
Stagleap caught up. “I know you said no racing.” He turned his round, amber gaze on Larksplash. “But we’re not at the border yet.”
Ryestalk popped up beside her brother. “We’d get there quicker if we ran.”
Larksplash rolled her eyes. “Okay, then. But don’t get too excited, and be careful of the Thunderpath.”
“We’re not ’paws anymore,” Stagleap retorted.
“Tallpaw is,” Larksplash reminded him. “So be careful.”
Stagleap caught Tallpaw’s eye. “Ready?”
“Ready!” Tallpaw tensed, feeling energy surge beneath his pelt.
“Go!” Ryestalk crashed away through the heather.
Stagleap chose a wider course, skirting the bushes and charging for the stretch of grass beyond. Grass makes for easier running. Tallpaw raced after Stagpaw. His paws skidded in the dew as he swerved around the heather. Ryestalk exploded from the bushes beside him as he veered onto Stagleap’s trail. She whisked past him with a yowl of triumph. Tallpaw dug in his claws and pushed harder.
The ground sloped steeply ahead of them. Ryestalk pounded over the grass but she couldn’t match her brother’s strength. Stagleap streaked higher. Stretching farther with each stride, Tallpaw found his rhythm until he was skimming the ground, hardly touching it with his paws. Wind streamed through his whiskers as he ran past Ryestalk. Stagleap was only a tail-length ahead. The top of the moor loomed above him, the blue sky stretching out endlessly beyond.
As Tallpaw drew closer, Stagleap crested the rise and began to charge down the other side. Tallpaw glanced back. Ryestalk was lagging but she put on a spurt of energy to crest the rise and hurtled down after them. The slope gave Stagleap an extra burst of speed. His wide shoulders and stocky build might slow him uphill, but here he could use his strength to race harder than ever.