She stepped back and, with the other cats, waited silently for his next move. Without hesitating, Rusty turned and kicked dust and grass over his collar as though burying his dirt.
Longtail growled and limped out of the clearing toward a fern-shaded corner. The cats split into groups, murmuring to each other excitedly.
“Hey, Firepaw!”
Rusty heard Graypaw’s friendly voice behind him. Firepaw! A thrill of pride surged through him at the sound of his new name. He turned to greet the gray apprentice with a welcoming sniff.
“Great fight, Firepaw!” mewed Graypaw. “Especially for a kittypet! Longtail is a warrior, although he only finished his training two moons ago. That scar you left on his ear won’t let him forget you in a hurry. You’ve spoiled his good looks, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks, Graypaw,” Firepaw replied. “He put up quite a fight, though!” He licked his front paw and began to wipe clean the deep scratch that stung above his eye. As he washed he heard his new name again, echoing among the meows of the cats.
“Firepaw!”
“Hey, Firepaw!”
“Welcome, young Firepaw!”
Firepaw closed his eyes for a moment and let the voices wash over him.
“Good name, too!” Graypaw mewed approvingly, jolting him awake.
Firepaw looked around. “Where did Longtail creep off to?”
“I think he was heading toward Spottedleaf’s den.” Graypaw tipped his head toward the fern-enclosed corner Longtail had disappeared into. “She’s our medicine cat. Not bad-looking either. Younger and a lot prettier than most—”
A low yowl next to the two cats stopped Graypaw midspeech. They both turned, and Firepaw recognized the powerful gray tabby cat who had sat behind Graypaw earlier.
“Darkstripe,” mewed Graypaw, dipping his head respectfully.
The sleek tom looked at Firepaw for a moment. “Lucky your collar snapped when it did. Longtail is a young warrior, but I can’t imagine him being beaten by a kittypet!” He spat the word kittypet scornfully, then turned and stalked off.
“Now Darkstripe,” Graypaw hissed to Firepaw under his breath, “is neither young, nor pretty…”
Firepaw was about to agree with his new friend when he was interrupted by a warning yowl from an old gray cat sitting at the edge of the clearing.
“Smallear smells trouble!” Graypaw meowed, immediately alert.
Firepaw barely had time to look around before a young cat crashed through the bushes and into the camp. He was skinny and—apart from the white tip of his long, thin tail—jet black from head to toe.
Graypaw gasped. “That’s Ravenpaw! Why is he alone? Where’s Tigerclaw?”
Firepaw looked at Ravenpaw staggering across the floor of the clearing. He was panting heavily. His coat was ruffled and dusty, and his eyes were wild with fear.
“Who are Ravenpaw and Tigerclaw?” Firepaw whispered to Graypaw, as several other cats raced past him to greet the new arrival.
“Ravenpaw’s an apprentice. Tigerclaw’s his mentor,” Graypaw explained quickly. “Ravenpaw went out with Tigerclaw and Redtail at sunrise on a mission against RiverClan, the lucky furball!”
“Redtail?” Firepaw echoed, thoroughly confused by all these names.
“Bluestar’s deputy,” hissed Graypaw. “But why on earth has Ravenpaw come back alone?” he added to himself. He lifted his head to listen as Bluestar stepped forward.
“Ravenpaw?” The she-cat spoke calmly, but a look of worry clouded her blue eyes. The other cats drew back, curling their lips with anxiety.
“What has happened?” Bluestar jumped onto the Highrock and looked down at the trembling cat. “Speak, Ravenpaw!”
Ravenpaw was still struggling for breath, and his sides heaved fitfully while the dust around him turned red with blood, but still he managed to scramble up onto the Highrock and stand beside Bluestar. He turned to the crowd of eager faces that surrounded him, and summoned enough breath to declare, “Redtail is dead!”
Chapter 4
Shocked yowls rose from the Clan cats and echoed through the forest.
Ravenpaw staggered slightly. His right foreleg glistened, wet with blood that flowed from the deep gash on his shoulder. “We m-met five RiverClan warriors beside the stream, not far from the Sunningrocks,” he went on shakily. “Oakheart was among them.”
“Oakheart!” Graypaw gasped beside Firepaw. “He is the deputy of RiverClan. He’s one of the greatest warriors in the forest. Lucky Ravenpaw! Wish it could have been me. I’d have really—” Graypaw was silenced by a fierce glance from the old gray tom who had first sensed Ravenpaw’s return.
Firepaw turned his attention back to Ravenpaw.
“Redtail warned Oakheart to keep his hunting parties out of ThunderClan territory. He said the next RiverClan warrior to be caught in ThunderClan territory would be killed, but Oak…Oakheart would not back down. He said his Cl-Clan had to be fed, whatever we threatened.” Ravenpaw paused to wheeze for breath. His wound was still bleeding heavily, and he stood awkwardly to keep the weight off his shoulder.
“That’s when the RiverClan cats attacked. It was hard to see what was happening. The fighting was vicious. I saw Oakheart had Redtail pinned to the ground, but then Redtail…” Suddenly Ravenpaw’s eyes rolled in his head and he lurched sideways. Half scrambling, half falling, he slithered off the Highrock and collapsed on the ground below.
A ginger queen bounded toward him and crouched at his side. She licked his cheek briefly and called out, “Spottedleaf!”
Out of the fern-shaded corner trotted the pretty tortoiseshell Firepaw had noticed sitting beside Graypaw earlier. She hurried over to Ravenpaw and mewed for the queen to stand back. Then she used her small pink nose to roll the apprentice over so that she could take a good look at the wound. She glanced up and meowed, “It’s all right, Goldenflower, his wounds aren’t fatal. But I’ll need to fetch some cobwebs to stop the bleeding.”
As Spottedleaf sprinted back to her den, the hushed silence in the clearing was broken by a mournful howl. All eyes turned to the direction it had come from.
A massive dark brown tabby staggered through the gorse tunnel. Between his sharp teeth the warrior held not prey, but the lifeless body of another cat. He dragged the tattered creature into the center of the clearing.
Firepaw craned his neck and glimpsed a flash of bright ginger tail hanging limply in the dust.
Shock rippled through the Clan like a chill breeze. Beside Firepaw, Graypaw dropped into a crouch as grief swept over him. “Redtail!”
“How did this happen, Tigerclaw?” demanded Bluestar from her position on the Highrock.
Tigerclaw let the scruff of Redtail’s neck fall from his mouth. He looked steadily back at Bluestar. “He died with honor, struck down by Oakheart. I couldn’t save him, but I managed to take Oakheart’s life while he was still gloating over his victory.” Tigerclaw’s voice was strong and deep. “Redtail’s death was not in vain, for I doubt we’ll see RiverClan hunters in our territory again.”
Firepaw glanced at Graypaw. The apprentice’s eyes were dark with sadness.
After a moment’s pause, several of the cats moved forward to lick Redtail’s bedraggled fur. As they groomed they purred hushed phrases to the dead warrior.
Firepaw whispered into Graypaw’s ear, “What are they doing?”
Graypaw didn’t take his eyes off the dead cat as he replied. “His spirit may have left to join StarClan, but the Clan will share tongues with Redtail one last time.”