by Erin Hunter
“Sandgorse?” he called nervously.
“Nearly there.” Sandgorse’s reply was muffled.
“Sandgor—” A hard wall of mud slapped Tallpaw’s muzzle. He yelped, half in pain, half-surprised.
Sandgorse stumbled back. “Turn to your right! Concentrate!”
“Sorry.” Tallpaw pricked his ears, focusing harder on the space ahead.
The air ahead seemed to tremble, and as he pushed on, the earth throbbed around him.
“What’s that?” Tallpaw froze. Was the tunnel about to collapse?
“It’s just the river,” Woollytail called. “We’re at the end of the tunnel. A few more scoops and we’ll be in the gorge.”
In the gorge! Fresh air! Tallpaw’s chest relaxed a little. They were probably only a tail-length from the wind and the sun.
Sandgorse pushed past him. “Wait here.”
Tallpaw heard paws scraping dirt.
“The clay’s wetter here!” Hickorynose sounded jubilant. “We must be close.”
Tallpaw hung back, listening above the hum of the river. The tunnelers’ pelts brushed against one another; clay squelched beneath their paws. Tallpaw could hear their breathing as they worked. “Should I dig, too?” he offered. Anything to get them into daylight faster.
Splat. A hunk of clay landed in front of him. Mud spattered his nose.
“Start packing the dug clay into the walls,” Mistmouse ordered.
Tallpaw wrinkled his nose as he scooped up a pawful of slippery earth and smeared it against the side of the tunnel. He felt the earth trembling beneath his pads. The river must be very close.
Splat. Another lump landed at his paws. Splat. Splat.
The tunnelers were tossing clods so fast that Tallpaw hopped back to avoid them. He snatched another pawful and slapped it against the wall. Working as fast as he could, he gathered pawful after pawful of clay, spreading it along the passage behind him until he could hardly squeeze past the fresh, slimy layer. He paused for breath, his muscles aching. He must look like a mud-drowned rat by now.
“Tallpaw?”
As he turned back for more mud, he felt his father’s breath near his muzzle. “What?”
“This is what I always dreamed of,” Sandgorse mewed softly. “You working beside me. Digging a new tunnel together, a tunnel that may be the one to change WindClan’s destiny forever.”
Tallpaw stiffened. Did Sandgorse think he’d change his mind about becoming a moor runner now that he’d been underground? Another gob of clay splatted in the passage beside Tallpaw and his father darted back to help the others.
“Are we nearly there?” Tallpaw called above the rumbling of the river. His ear fur quivered. Has it gotten louder?
“We’ll hit air any moment!” Sandgorse sounded as excited as a kit at his naming ceremony.
“Wait!” Mistmouse snapped from somewhere in the darkness.
“What is it?” Woollytail’s mew was edged with alarm.
The tunnelers paused. A long, mournful creak echoed along the passage. It sounded like stone flexing, with the deep suck of mud gradually releasing its grip on a hillside that had stood for moons.
“StarClan, help us.” Hickorynose’s mew was barely more than a whisper.
“What’s happening?” Tallpaw asked nervously.
“Run!”
Paws scrambled in the darkness. Tallpaw felt fur press against him.
“Tallpaw!” Sandgorse’s yowl pierced his ear fur. “Run!”
Shock pulsed though Tallpaw. Spinning around, he pelted up the tunnel. “Sandgorse!” He glanced over his shoulder into blackness.
“Behind you!” Sandgorse called. “Hickorynose? Woollytail? Mistmouse?”
“Here!”
“Here!
“Here!”
“Faster, Tallpaw!” Sandgorse urged, panic edging his mew.
Behind them, an earsplitting roar shook the earth as water exploded into the tunnel. Tallpaw’s pads slithered on the mud. Ears flat, he flailed in the darkness, skidding against walls as the tunnels twisted.
“Let me through.” Sandgorse barged past him. “Keep your nose to my tail and run!”
Tallpaw obeyed, too frightened to speak. He couldn’t run properly here. There was no space to curve his spine or stretch his legs. Terror pulsing through every hair, he focused on the touch of Sandgorse’s tail-tip on his nose. Water roared behind them like wind caught in a valley. It charged after them, making the ground tremble.
Just keep running!
Tallpaw’s chest heaved. There was no air here! How could he breathe? Panic flared inside him, but he kept running until light flashed ahead—brighter, brighter, now dazzling—and they were out, bursting from the tunnel like rabbits chased by a fox.
Tallpaw collapsed on the grass. Through glazed eyes he saw Hickorynose flash past him with Woollytail and Mistmouse. They had all made it. With a sigh, Tallpaw shut his eyes, his breath slowing.
Paw steps paced the grass beside him. “I can’t believe we got it wrong.”
Tallpaw pricked his ears. Sandgorse sounded annoyed. Wasn’t he scared?
Hickorynose grunted. “I’d been counting the tail-lengths, and I was sure we had two more to go before we reached the river.”
“We didn’t take enough notice of the easy digging in leaf-bare,” Woollytail huffed angrily. “We reached the water faster than we expected.”
Tallpaw opened his eyes.
Mistmouse was peering down the rabbit hole. “At least the flooding will let us know where the river is.”
Tallpaw sat up. “We nearly drowned! You can’t go back down there!”
“But we didn’t drown,” Sandgorse pointed out. “And we’ve learned a lot for next time.”
“Next time?” Tallpaw shook his ears in disbelief. “Are you planning to carry on with the tunnel?”
“Of course.” Mistmouse looked over her shoulder at him. “Now that we have a tunnel with water in it, we’ll know what level to aim for on the wall of the gorge. Obviously the new tunnel will have to come out higher next time.”
“Should I fetch Plumclaw?” Hickorynose suggested. “She’ll want to be part of this.”
“Yes.” Woollytail turned excitedly in a circle. “We’ll be through to the gorge by moonhigh.”
“But it’s dangerous!” Tallpaw’s heart seemed to beat in his throat.
“Not if you know what you’re doing.” Sandgorse’s eyes were bright with exhilaration. Had he enjoyed racing the river? Tallpaw winced. His father had even more courage than he thought.
“Why don’t you go back to camp?” Sandgorse meowed. “Have a rest and get cleaned up. Then you can come back and help us with the new section.”
Come back? Tallpaw decided he’d rather face a patrol of ShadowClan warriors.
Sandgorse was purring. “We’ll break through to the gorge together, Tallpaw. Palebird will be so proud of us.”
Tallpaw backed away. “No.” His throat was dry. “Never.”
Shock flashed through Sandgorse’s gaze. “But you saw how it was! Didn’t you feel it? The excitement! The danger!” He looked across the moors. “You can’t want to go back to running through heather after that.”
“Yes!” Tallpaw jumped up, bristling with frustration. “Why don’t you get it? Just because you love tunneling doesn’t mean I do! I’m not you! I thought we were all going to die down there. I’m a moor runner, not a tunneler!”
CHAPTER 11
“When can we start using the tunnel?” Cloudrunner asked Hickorynose.
Tallpaw pricked his ears. Had the tunnelers dug all the way through to the gorge? The cats around him shifted to hear the answer. Above, the full moon turned their pelts silver as they waited to leave for the Gathering. Larksplash and Appledawn sat beside Reedfeather. Stagleap plucked at the grass while Doespring gazed dreamily at the stars. Hareflight and Shrewpaw practiced battle moves a few tail-lengths away. Tallpaw was quivering with anticipation, though he was trying to hide it. This would be
his first visit to Fourtrees, his first meeting with the other three Clans.
Hickorynose paused before replying to Cloudrunner. “We need to shore up the walls and roof before it’s safe for moor runners,” he warned.
The pale gray tom’s fur pricked along his spine. “And you really think this is going to make a difference for us all?” Cloudrunner meowed.
“It’s a good route down to the gorge,” Heatherstar reminded him.
Reedfeather’s eyes flashed. “Quicker for getting to RiverClan territory.”
“Why would we want to go there?” Cloudrunner stared at his deputy.
Reedfeather shrugged. “There might be a war between the Clans.”
“The Clans haven’t been at war in moons,” Cloudrunner huffed.
“Maybe there are other reasons for needing to visit our neighbors,” Reedfeather meowed. He turned his gaze away. “War is not the only connection between us.”
Tallpaw impatiently kneaded the grass with his claws. Why was Reedfeather going on about visiting RiverClan? The only place outside the moor that they needed to reach was Fourtrees!
“Don’t worry; we’ll be leaving soon,” Dawnstripe promised.
“I’m not worried.” Tallpaw padded past her, avoiding her gaze. He knew he should feel excited about his first Gathering, but instead he felt nervous. His quarrel with Sandgorse yesterday had unsettled him. Why was his father so obsessed with him being a tunneler? How can I enjoy training to be a moor runner? Sandgorse makes me feel like a traitor.
Barkpaw hurried from the medicine den. “Hawkheart says I can come!” He glanced over his shoulder at the medicine cat, who was crossing the tussocks behind him.
Tallpaw lifted his tail in greeting as his friend reached him. “Is Shrewpaw coming too?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” Barkpaw looked surprised.
“Shrewpaw doesn’t tell me anything.” Tallpaw had given up trying to be friends with his denmate.
“Why should I?” Shrewpaw paused from practicing battle moves. “You’re wasting your time and Dawnstripe’s by training as a moor runner. You’re a tunneler.”
“No, I’m not!” Tallpaw snapped.
“You will be one day.” Shrewpaw glanced meaningfully at the bracken patch. “Sandgorse will make sure of that.”
“Sandgorse respects what I want.” Tallpaw’s heart twisted. If only it were true.
“Of course he does,” Shrewpaw sneered.
“In the end, we all decide our own destinies,” came an unexpected voice.
Tallpaw spun around in surprise as he heard Hawkheart’s deep growl behind him. The medicine cat stalked past and settled beside Heatherstar.
Cloudrunner was still bickering with Hickorynose. “I don’t see why we need a route to the gorge.”
“You’ll appreciate it one day.” Hickorynose sounded weary from the long nights of digging.
Tallpaw had watched Heatherstar spend most of the day persuading him to attend the Gathering. “One of the tunnelers should come,” she’d insisted, sitting beside the bracken patch while Hickorynose and his tunnelmates finally got a chance to clean the clay from their paws. They’d opened the tunnel by moonhigh, just as Sandgorse had promised. But they spent till dawn safeguarding against cave-ins and mudslides, and returned to camp more anxious than exhilarated.
“The whole Clan should be represented.” Heatherstar had challenged one tunneler, then the next, until finally Hickorynose had looked up.
“What does it matter?” he’d grunted. “The other Clans don’t know a tunneler from a moor runner.”
Plumclaw sniffed. “Tunnelers don’t need to share gossip with the other Clans.”
Heatherstar had bristled. “The Gatherings aren’t for sharing gossip,” she’d snapped. “They keep harmony between the Clans.”
“Harmony!” Woollytail had snorted. “The Clans are just there to spy on one another.” He’d returned to washing, tugging grit from between his claws.
“Well?” Heatherstar glared at the tunnelers, her tail flicking. “Who’s coming to the Gathering?”
Hickorynose sighed. “I will.”
Heatherstar had nodded. “Then you’d better get some rest.”
Now, in the moonlight, Tallpaw thought Hickorynose still looked tired despite his sleep. He yawned as Cloudrunner complained to Stagleap.
“The gorge tunnel will be as steep as a cliff,” the pale gray moor runner fretted. “You won’t get me down it.”
Stagleap shrugged. “Tallpaw said it’s not that steep.”
“He says they dug the slope long and shallow,” added Doespring.
“Yes, it’s not too bad,” Tallpaw meowed.
Cloudrunner turned and stared at Tallpaw. “You’ve been down it?”
“He helped dig it out,” Stagleap announced.
Tallpaw shifted his paws uncomfortably as he remembered how terrified he’d been with the river roaring at his tail like an angry swarm of bees. And Sandgorse still wanted him to be a tunneler. Just because it’s right for him doesn’t make it right for me!
“Ready?” Dawnstripe’s mew surprised him.
“Ready?” Tallpaw echoed, lost in his own thoughts.
Dawnstripe rolled her eyes. “The Gathering, remember?”
Heatherstar was already heading out of the camp.
“Of course I remember!” Tallpaw glanced at the bracken patch. Was Sandgorse watching him leave for his first Gathering? He scanned the nests for eyes flashing in the darkness, but there was no sign of any cats looking at him. Tallpaw glanced at the nursery, relieved to see Palebird sliding out of the gorse.
She nodded to him. “Good luck, Tallpaw.”
“Good luck, Tallpaw,” Shrewpaw mimicked.
Barkpaw growled at his brother. “Leave him alone. It’s his first Gathering!”
“Poor little Wormpaw has to go without his mother.”
Tallpaw unsheathed his claws.
“Come on.” Dawnstripe nosed her apprentice away from his denmate.
Growling under his breath, Tallpaw followed Stagleap through the heather. Doespring met him on the grass clearing outside camp, Ryestalk at her side. “Are you excited?” Her amber eyes were bright. It was her first Gathering as a warrior.
Tallpaw shrugged. “I guess.”
“You guess?” Ryestalk followed Cloudrunner and Hareflight across the grass. “It’ll be great!” she called, disappearing into the heather.
Hawkheart shadowed Whiteberry and Flamepelt, his sharp gaze flicking over the elders. “You should be resting in your nest, Whiteberry,” he muttered.
“I’m not letting a few aching joints keep me away from a Gathering,” Whiteberry rasped.
“I gave him the heather blossom we gathered.” Barkpaw trotted after his mentor.
Hawkheart’s gaze narrowed. “How much?”
“Half a pawful, soaked in water. Like you showed me.”
Hawkheart nodded. “Well done.” His gaze flicked back to Whiteberry. “Has it helped?”
“I was fine before.” Whiteberry limped along the trail after his Clanmates. “Don’t waste your herbs on me.”
“Poor Barkpaw.” Shrewpaw stopped beside Doespring. “Imagine spending your life listening to elders complain.”
“He’s had plenty of practice, growing up in a nest with you,” Doespring meowed sharply. Shrewpaw scowled at her and trotted ahead to catch up to Barkpaw.
Stagleap ripped at the grass. “Hurry up, Tallpaw!” Beyond him, the heather rippled as WindClan moved though it.
“What’s Fourtrees like?” Tallpaw meowed.
“Weird.” Stagleap shouldered his way through the bushes.
Tallpaw slid after him, following the trail. “How?”
“You’ll see.”
Doespring was pushing at Tallpaw’s heels. “Should we race?”
“No thanks.” Tallpaw wasn’t in the mood for running.
Stagleap glanced back, his eyes flashing in the darkness. “I’ll race you!”
Ta
llpaw leaned aside to let Doespring pass. “See you there!” she called as she broke into a run. The two warriors hared away, their paws thrumming the ground. Tallpaw trudged after them, following their scent through the heather.
Paw steps sounded behind him. “I thought you loved racing?” Dawnstripe had caught up to him.
“I don’t feel like it,” Tallpaw murmured.
Dawnstripe walked in silence for a few moments. “What’s the matter?” she asked at last.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been in a bad mood since you went tunneling yesterday.”
“So?”
“So, you hardly heard a word I said in training today,” she persisted. “You didn’t even try to outstalk Shrewpaw, and your hunting stance was the worst I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe I’m not meant to be a moor runner.” Tallpaw let gloom swamp him.
“Don’t be silly.” Dawnstripe was brisk. “You’re the best runner I’ve seen. Now, tell me what happened in the tunnels that upset you. Is it Sandgorse?”
Tallpaw sighed. “He didn’t even see me off to my first Gathering.”
“It’s going to take Sandgorse time to accept that you want to be a moor runner,” Dawnstripe told him. “No cat can change his feelings overnight.”
“Doesn’t he want what’s best for me?” Tallpaw asked crossly.
“Of course he does,” Dawnstripe meowed. “But he still thinks being a tunneler is best for you.”
“Is he right?” Tallpaw’s belly tightened.
“Do you want to train as a tunneler?” Dawnstripe prompted.
“No!” The word burst from Tallpaw before he had a chance to think. “Never! I don’t want to spend my life in the dark with soil in my fur and mud in my claws!”
“Okay.” Dawnstripe padded steadily beside him. “So you’re going to have to put up with Sandgorse’s disappointment. You can’t change the way he feels. The only thing you can change is how you feel.”
“I feel bad.”
“But not bad enough to become a tunneler just to please Sandgorse.”
“I guess not.” Tallpaw followed the trail as it wound out from the heather. Moonlight shone on the slope ahead.