Into the Wild (Warriors 1)

“Sorry, Speckletail,” Firepaw mewed. “Are you on your way to see Yellowfang?”

“What would I want with that unnatural creature?” replied Speckletail crossly. “Actually it’s you I was looking for. Bluestar wants to see you.”

Firepaw hurried toward the Highrock and Bluestar’s den.

Bluestar was sitting outside, her head bobbing rhythmically as she licked the gray fur below her throat. She paused when she noticed Firepaw. “How is Yellowfang today?” she meowed.

“Her bedding is wet, so I was going to fetch her more,” Firepaw replied.

“I’ll ask one of the queens to see to that.” Bluestar gave her chest another lick, and then eyed Firepaw carefully. “Is she fit enough to hunt for herself yet?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” Firepaw meowed, “but she can walk well enough now.”

“I see,” meowed Bluestar. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is time for you to return to your training, Firepaw. But you’ll need to work hard to make up for time you have lost.”

“Great! I mean, thank you, Bluestar!” Firepaw stammered.

“You will go out with Tigerclaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw this morning,” Bluestar continued. “I’ve asked Tigerclaw to assess the warrior skills of all our apprentices. Don’t worry about Yellowfang; I’ll make sure someone sees to her while you are gone.”

Firepaw nodded.

“Now, join your companions,” Bluestar ordered. “I expect they’re waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Bluestar,” Firepaw mewed. He turned with a flick of his tail and darted toward his den.

Bluestar was right; Graypaw and Ravenpaw were both waiting for him by their favorite tree stump. Graypaw looked stiff and uncomfortable, his long fur clumped by the dampness of the air. Ravenpaw was pacing around the tree stump, lost in thought, the white tip of his tail twitching.

“So, you’re joining us today!” Graypaw called as Firepaw approached. “Some day, huh?” He shook himself roughly to get rid of the clinging wetness.

“Yes. Bluestar told me that Tigerclaw is going to assess us today. Are Sandpaw and Dustpaw coming too?”

“Whitestorm and Darkstripe took them out on warrior patrol. I suppose Tigerclaw is going to look at them later,” Graypaw answered.

“Come on! We should get going,” urged Ravenpaw. He had stopped pacing and now hovered beside them anxiously.

“Fine by me,” mewed Graypaw. “Hopefully some exercise will warm me up a bit!”

The three cats trotted through the gorse track and out of the camp. They hurried to the sandy hollow. Tigerclaw had not arrived, so they hung around in the shelter of a pine tree, their fur fluffed up against the chill.

“Are you worried about the assessment?” Firepaw asked Ravenpaw, as the young cat padded backward and forward with quick, nervous pawsteps. “There’s no need to be. You’re Tigerclaw’s apprentice, after all. When he reports back to Bluestar, he’s going to want to tell her how good you are.”

“You can never tell with Tigerclaw,” mewed Ravenpaw, still pacing.

“For goodness’ sake, sit down,” Graypaw grumbled. “At this rate you’ll be worn out before we begin!”

By the time Tigerclaw arrived, the sky had changed. The clouds looked less like thick gray fur, and more like the soft white balls of down that queens used to line the nests of their newborns. Blue skies couldn’t be far behind, but the breeze that brought the softer clouds carried a fresh chill.

Tigerclaw greeted them briskly and launched straight into the exercise details. “Lionheart and I have spent the last few weeks trying to teach you how to hunt decently,” he meowed. “Today you’ll have a chance to show me how much you have learned. Each of you will take a different route and hunt as much prey as possible. And whatever you catch will be added to the supplies in the camp.”

The three apprentices looked at one another, nervous and excited. Firepaw felt his heart begin to beat faster at the prospect of a challenge.

“Ravenpaw, you will follow the trail beyond the Great Sycamore as far as the Snakerocks. That should be easy enough for your pitiful skills. You, Graypaw,” Tigerclaw continued, “will take the route along the stream, as far as the Thunderpath.”

“Great,” mewed Graypaw. “Wet paws for me!” Tigerclaw’s stare silenced him.

“And finally you, Firepaw. What a shame your great mentor couldn’t be here today to witness your performance for herself. You shall take the route through the Tallpines, past the Treecut place, to the woods beyond.”

Firepaw nodded, frantically tracing the route in his head.

“And remember,” Tigerclaw finished, fixing them all with his pale-eyed stare, “I shall be watching all of you.”

Ravenpaw was the first to sprint away toward the Snakerocks. Tigerclaw took a different track into the woods, leaving Graypaw and Firepaw alone in the hollow, trying to guess who Tigerclaw would follow first.

“I don’t know why he thinks Snakerocks is an easy route!” mewed Graypaw. “The place is crawling with adders. Birds and mice stay away from there because there are so many snakes!”

“Ravenpaw’ll have to spend his whole time trying not to get bitten,” Firepaw agreed.

“Oh, he’ll be okay,” mewed Graypaw. “Not even an adder would be fast enough to catch Ravenpaw at the moment, he’s so jumpy. I’d better get going. See you back here later on. Good luck!”

Graypaw raced off toward the stream. Firepaw paused to sniff the air, then bounded up the side of the hollow and began to head for the Tallpines.

It felt strange to be going in this direction, toward the Twoleg place he had been raised in. Cautiously Firepaw crossed the narrow path into the pine forest. He looked through the straight rows of trees, across the flat forest floor, alert for the sight and scent of prey.

A movement caught his eye. It was a mouse, scrabbling through the pine needles. Remembering his first lesson, Firepaw dropped into the stalking position, keeping his weight in his haunches, his paws light on the ground. The technique worked perfectly. The mouse didn’t detect Firepaw until his final leap. He caught it with one paw and killed it swiftly. Then he buried it, so that he could pick it up on his return journey.

Firepaw traveled a little farther into the Tallpines. The ground here was deeply rutted by the tracks of the huge Twoleg monster that tore down the trees. Firepaw took a deep breath, his mouth open. The monster’s acid breath had not touched the air here for a while.

Firepaw followed the deep tracks, jumping across the ruts. They were half-filled with rain, which made him feel thirsty. He was tempted to stop and take a few mouthfuls, but he hesitated. One lap of that muddy trench water and he’d taste the monster’s foul-smelling tracks for days.

He decided to wait. Perhaps there would be a rainwater puddle beyond the Tallpines. He hurried onward through the trees and crossed the Twoleg path on the far boundary.

He was back amid the thick undergrowth of oak woods. He moved onward until he found a puddle and lapped up a few mouthfuls of the fresh water. Firepaw’s fur began to prickle with some extra awareness. He recognized sounds and scents familiar from his old watching place on the fence post, and knew instantly where he was. These were the woods that bordered the Twolegplace. He must be very close to his old home now.

Ahead Firepaw could smell Twolegs and hear their voices, loud and raucous like crows. It was a group of young Twolegs, playing in the woods. Firepaw crouched and peered ahead through the ferns. The sounds were distant enough to be safe. He changed direction, skirting the noises, making sure he was not seen.

Firepaw stayed alert and watchful, but not just for Twolegs—Tigerclaw might be somewhere nearby. He thought he heard a twig snap in the bushes behind him. He sniffed the air, but smelled nothing new. Was he being watched now? he wondered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw sensed movement. At first he thought it was Tigerclaw’s dark brown fur, but then he saw a flash of white. He stopped, crouched, and inhaled deeply. The smell was unfamiliar; it was a cat, but not a ThunderClan cat. Firepaw felt his fur bristle with the instincts of a Cl

an warrior. He would have to chase the intruder out of ThunderClan territory!

Firepaw watched the creature moving through the undergrowth. He could see its outline clearly as it skittered between the ferns. Firepaw waited for it to wander nearer. He crouched lower, his tail waving back and forth in slow rhythm. As the black-and-white cat neared, Firepaw rocked his haunches from side to side as he prepared to spring. One more heartbeat; then he leaped.

The black-and-white cat jumped into the air, terrified, and raced away through the trees. Firepaw gave chase.

It’s a kittypet! he thought as he raced through the undergrowth, smelling its fear-scent. In my territory! He was closing in rapidly on the fleeing animal. It had slowed its headlong rush, preparing to scramble up the wide, mossy trunk of a fallen tree. With the blood roaring in his ears, Firepaw leaped onto its back in a single bound.

Firepaw could feel the cat struggling beneath him as he gripped on with all his claws. It let out a desperate and terrified yowl.

Firepaw released his grip and backed away. The black-and-white cat cringed at the foot of the fallen tree, trembling, and looked up at him. Firepaw lifted his nose, feeling a ripple of disgust at the intruder’s easy surrender. This soft, plump house cat, with its round eyes and narrow face, looked very different from the lean, broad-headed cats Firepaw lived with now. And yet something about this cat seemed familiar.

Firepaw stared harder. He sniffed, drawing in the other cat’s scent. I don’t recognize the smell, he thought, searching his memory.

Then it came to him.

“Smudge!” he meowed out loud.

“H-ho-how d-d-do you know my n-name?” stammered Smudge, still crouching.

“It’s me!” Firepaw meowed.

The house cat looked confused.

“We were kittens together. I lived in the garden next to you!” Firepaw insisted.

“Rusty?” mewled Smudge in disbelief. “Is that you? Did you find the wildcats again? Or are you living with new housefolk? You must be, if you’re still alive!”