Into the Wild (Warriors 1)

As if one wash is going to make much difference, Firepaw thought, his nose twitching. She was the arch-cat of stench.

He eyed the tattered remnants of the prey. There wasn’t much left to line a growing cat’s belly, but his fight with Yellowfang had sharpened his appetite even more; he gave in to his hunger and gulped down the scraps. It was delicious. He licked his lips, savoring every last taste, tingling from head to paw.

Yellowfang watched him closely, showing her stained teeth. “Better than the muck Twolegs feed some of our brothers, isn’t it?” she mewed slyly. Knowing she had found his sore spot, she was trying to antagonize him.

Firepaw ignored her and began to wash.

“It’s poison,” Yellowfang went on. “Rat droppings! Only a spineless bag of fur would accept such disgusting frogspawn—” She broke off and tensed. “Shhh…warriors coming.”

Firepaw was also aware of cats approaching. He could hear their soft paw-fall on the leaf litter and the sound of fur swishing through branches. He smelled the wind brushing against their coats. Familiar smells. These were ThunderClan warriors, confident enough in their own territory not to care about the noise they made.

Firepaw licked his lips guiltily, hoping to wash away any traces of the scraps he’d just swallowed. Then he looked at Yellowfang and the fresh pile of rabbit bones that lay beside her. “The Clan must be fed first!” Lionheart’s voice rang though his head once more. But surely he would understand why Firepaw had fed this wretched creature. His mind reeled, suddenly fearful of what would happen to him. His first apprentice task, and he had ended up breaking the warrior code!

CHAPTER 8

Yellowfang growled in defiance at the approaching pawsteps, but Firepaw could sense her panic. The she-cat struggled to her feet. “So long. Thanks for the meal.” She tried to limp away on three legs and then winced in pain. “Nuh! This leg’s stiffened up while I’ve been resting.”

Now it was too late for her to run. Silent shadows slipped out of the trees, and in a heartbeat the ThunderClan patrol had encircled Firepaw and Yellowfang. Firepaw recognized them: Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, Willowpelt, and Bluestar, all of them lean and hard-muscled. Firepaw smelled Yellowfang’s fear at the sight of them.

Graypaw followed close behind. He bounded out of the bushes and stood beside the warrior patrol.

Firepaw mewed a hasty greeting to his Clan. But only Graypaw returned it. “Hi, Firepaw!” he called out.

“Silence!” Tigerclaw growled.

Firepaw glanced at Yellowfang and groaned inwardly; he could still smell the fear-scent on her, but instead of cowering in submission, the scruffy creature was glaring in defiance.

“Firepaw?” Bluestar’s question was cool and measured. “What have we here? An enemy warrior—and recently fed, by the smell of you both.” Her eyes burned into him, and Firepaw dropped his head.

“She was weak and hungry…” he began.

“And what about you? Was your hunger so bad that you had to feed yourself before you had gathered prey for your Clan?” Bluestar went on. “I assume that you have a very good reason for breaking the warrior code?”

Firepaw was not fooled by the leader’s soft tone. Bluestar was furious—and rightly so. He crouched lower to the ground.

Before he could speak there was a loud hiss from Tigerclaw. “Once a kittypet, always a kittypet!”

Bluestar ignored Tigerclaw and looked instead at Yellowfang. Suddenly she looked surprised. “Well, well, Firepaw! It seems you have captured us a ShadowClan cat. And one I know well. You are ShadowClan’s medicine cat, aren’t you?” she meowed to Yellowfang. “What are you doing so far into ThunderClan territory?”

“I was the ShadowClan medicine cat. Now I choose to travel alone,” hissed Yellowfang.

Firepaw listened, astonished. Had he heard right? Yellowfang was a ShadowClan warrior? Her filthy condition must have masked her territorial scent. He might have enjoyed tackling her more if he’d known.

“Yellowfang!” Tigerclaw meowed mockingly. “It looks like you have fallen on hard times if you can be beaten by an apprentice!”

Now Darkstripe spoke. “This old cat is no use to us. Let’s kill her now. As for this kittypet, he has broken the warrior code by feeding an enemy warrior. He should be punished.”

“Keep your claws in, Darkstripe,” Bluestar purred calmly. “All the Clans speak of Yellowfang’s bravery and wisdom. It may help us to hear what she has to say. Come; we’ll take her back to camp. Then we’ll decide what to do with her—and with Firepaw. Can you walk?” she asked Yellowfang. “Or do you need help?”

“I’ve still got three good legs,” the grizzled she-cat snapped back, limping forward.

Firepaw saw that Yellowfang’s eyes were glazed with pain, but she seemed determined not to show any weakness. He noticed a look of respect flicker across Bluestar’s face before the ThunderClan leader turned and slowly led the way through the trees. The other warriors took up positions on either side of Yellowfang, and the patrol moved off, carefully keeping pace with their lame prisoner.

Firepaw and Graypaw fell in step together at the back of the group.

“Have you heard of Yellowfang?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.

“A bit. Apparently she was a warrior before she became a medicine cat, which is unusual. I can’t imagine her as a loner, though. She has lived her whole life in ShadowClan.”

“What’s a loner?”

Graypaw glanced at him. “A loner is a cat that isn’t part of a Clan or cared for by Twolegs. Tigerclaw says they are untrustworthy and selfish. They often live around Twoleg dwellings, but belong to no one and catch their own food.”

“I might end up a loner once Bluestar has finished with me,” Firepaw mewed.

“Bluestar is very fair,” Graypaw reassured him. “She won’t throw you out. She certainly seems pleased to have such an important ShadowClan cat as a prisoner. I’m sure she’s not going to make a fuss about your feeding the poor old mange-bag.”

“But they keep moaning about prey being scarce! Oh, why did I eat that rabbit?” Firepaw felt shame burn through his fur.

“Well, yeah.” Graypaw nudged his friend. “That was mouse-brained. You really broke the warrior code there, but no cat is perfect!”

Firepaw didn’t answer but trekked onward with a heavy heart. This was not the way he had hoped his first solo task would end.

As the patrol passed the sentries who guarded the camp entrance, the rest of ThunderClan came running to welcome their warriors home.

Queens, kits, and elders crowded on either side. They peered curiously at Yellowfang as she was led into the camp. Some of the elders recognized the old she-cat. Word spread quickly through the Clan that this was ShadowClan’s medicine cat, and a steady jeering hum rose up around them.

Yellowfang seemed deaf to the taunts. Firepaw couldn’t help admiring the way she limped with dignity through the corridor of stares and insults. He knew she was in a great deal of pain, and hungry in spite of the rabbit he had caught for her.

When the patrol reached the Highrock, Bluestar nodded toward the dusty ground in front of it. Yellowfang followed the ThunderClan leader’s silent command, sinking gratefully onto the earth. Still ignoring the hostile stares around her, she began licking her wounded leg.

Firepaw noticed Spottedleaf emerge from her corner. She must have scented the presence of an injured cat in the camp. He watched the crowd part to let the young tortoiseshell through.

Yellowfang glared at Spottedleaf and hissed, “I know how to take care of my own wounds. I don’t need your help.”

Spottedleaf said nothing but nodded respectfully and stepped back.

Some of the cats had been out hunting, and fresh-kill was brought for the returning warriors to eat. They each took some food and carried it away to the nettle patch to eat it. Then the other Clan cats crowded forward to take their own share.

Firepaw paced hungrily around the clearing and watched as the cats crouched in their

usual groups, chewing and gulping. He longed for a morsel, but didn’t dare to take anything from the pile. He had broken the warrior code. He guessed that this meant he was forbidden his share in the fresh-kill.

He paused beside the Highrock where Bluestar was sharing words with Tigerclaw. Uncertain, Firepaw looked to his leader for a signal that he was allowed to eat. But the gray cat and her senior warrior were busy murmuring at one another in low tones. Firepaw wondered if they were talking about him. Desperate to know his fate, he strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded impatient. “It’s just too dangerous to bring an enemy warrior into the heart of ThunderClan! Now that she knows the camp, even the youngest ShadowClan kit will hear of it. We will have to move.”

“Calm down, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar purred. “Why should we move? Yellowfang says that she is traveling alone now. There is no reason for ShadowClan to hear of it.”

“Do you really believe that? What on earth was that foolish kittypet thinking of?” Tigerclaw spat.

“But think for a moment, Tigerclaw,” mewed Bluestar. “Why would the ShadowClan medicine cat choose to leave her Clan? You seem to be afraid that Yellowfang will share our Clan secrets with ShadowClan, but have you thought about how many ShadowClan secrets she might share with us?”

Firepaw could see by the way Tigerclaw’s fur began to flatten that Bluestar’s words made sense. The warrior nodded briefly, and then stalked off to take his share of the fresh-kill.

Bluestar remained where she was. She looked out across the clearing, where some of the younger kits were fighting and tumbling playfully in the dust. Then she stood up and began to walk toward Firepaw. His heart lurched. What was she going to say to him?