“StarClan?” Firepaw echoed.
“It’s the tribe of heavenly warriors that watches over all Clan cats. You can see them in Silverpelt.”
Firepaw looked confused, so Graypaw explained. “Silverpelt is that thick band of stars you see each night stretching across the sky. Each star is a StarClan warrior. Redtail will be among them tonight.”
Firepaw nodded, and Graypaw stepped forward to share tongues with his dead deputy.
Bluestar had remained silent while the first cats came to pay their respects to Redtail. Now she leaped down from the Highrock and walked slowly toward Redtail’s body. The other cats retreated and watched as their leader crouched down to share tongues with her old comrade one last time.
When she had finished she raised her head and spoke. Her voice was low and thick with grief, and the Clan listened in silence. “Redtail was a brave warrior. His loyalty to ThunderClan could never be doubted. I always relied on his judgment, for it bore witness to the needs of the Clan, and was never swayed by self-interest or pride. He would have made a fine leader.”
Then she lowered herself onto her belly, her head bowed, her paws stretched neatly before her, and silently she grieved for her lost friend. Several other cats came and lay down beside her, their bowed heads and hunched backs echoing her mournful pose.
Firepaw watched. He had not known Redtail, but he couldn’t help feeling moved as he witnessed the Clan mourn.
Graypaw came and stood beside him again. “Dustpaw will be sad,” he remarked.
“Dustpaw?”
“Redtail’s apprentice. That brown-striped tabby over there. I wonder who his new mentor will be?”
Firepaw glanced over at the small tom who squatted near Redtail’s body, staring unseeing at the ground. Firepaw looked past him to the Clan leader. “How long will Blusetar sit with him?” he asked.
“Probably the whole night,” replied Graypaw. “Redtail was her deputy for many, many moons. She won’t want to let him go too quickly. He was one of the best warriors. Not as big and powerful as Tigerclaw or Lionheart, but quick and clever.”
Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw, admiring the strength that swelled in his powerful muscles and broad head. His massive body showed signs of his warrior life. One of his ears was split into a deep vee shape, and a thick scar sliced the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly Tigerclaw stood up and stalked over to Ravenpaw. Spottedleaf was crouching beside Tigerclaw’s wounded apprentice, using her teeth and front paws to press wads of cobweb onto his shoulder wound.
Firepaw leaned toward Graypaw and asked, “What’s Spottedleaf doing?”
“Stopping the bleeding. It looked like a nasty cut. And Ravenpaw seemed really shaken up. He’s always been a bit jumpy, but I’ve never seen him this bad before. Let’s go and see if he’s woken up yet.”
They made their way through the grieving cats toward the spot where Ravenpaw lay and settled themselves a respectful distance away to wait until Tigerclaw had finished speaking.
“So, Spottedleaf.” Tigerclaw addressed the tortoiseshell with a confident meow. “How is he? Do you think you can save him? I’ve spent a lot of time training him up, and I don’t want my efforts to be wasted at the first battle.”
Spottedleaf didn’t look up from her patient as she replied. “Yes, a pity if, after all your valuable training, he dies in his first fight, eh?” Firepaw could hear a teasing purr in her soft mew.
“Will he live?” Tigerclaw demanded.
“Of course. He just needs to rest.”
Tigerclaw snorted and looked down at the motionless black shape. He jabbed Ravenpaw with one of his front claws. “Come on, then! Get up!”
Ravenpaw didn’t move.
“Look at the length of that claw!” Firepaw hissed.
“Too right!” replied Graypaw with feeling. “I know I wouldn’t want to get into a fight with him!”
“Not so fast, Tigerclaw!” Spottedleaf placed her paw over Tigerclaw’s sharp talon and gently moved it away. “This apprentice needs to keep as still as possible until the cut has healed. We don’t want him opening his wound by jumping about trying to please you. Leave him alone.”
Firepaw found himself holding his breath as he waited for Tigerclaw’s reaction. He guessed that few cats dared to give orders to the warrior like that. The big tabby stiffened, and seemed about to speak when Spottedleaf mewed teasingly, “Even you know better than to argue with a medicine cat, Tigerclaw.”
Tigerclaw’s eyes flashed at the little tortoiseshell’s words. “I wouldn’t dare argue with you, dear Spottedleaf,” he purred. He turned to leave and caught sight of Graypaw and Firepaw. “Who’s this?” he asked Graypaw, towering above them.
“He’s the new apprentice,” Graypaw mewed.
“He smells like a kittypet!” snorted the warrior.
“I was a house cat,” Firepaw meowed boldly, “but I am going to train to be a warrior.”
Tigerclaw looked at him with sudden interest. “Ah, yes. Now I remember. Bluestar mentioned that she had stumbled across some stray kittypet. So she’s actually going to try you out, is she?”
Firepaw sat up very straight, anxious to impress this distinguished Clan warrior. “That’s right,” he mewed respectfully.
Tigerclaw eyed him thoughtfully. “Then I shall watch your progress with interest.”
Firepaw puffed his chest out proudly as Tigerclaw stalked away. “Do you think he liked me?”
“I don’t think Tigerclaw likes any apprentices!” whispered Graypaw.
Just then Ravenpaw stirred and twitched his ears. “Has he gone?” he mumbled.
“Who? Tigerclaw?” replied Graypaw, trotting toward him. “Yep, he’s gone.”
“Hi, there,” Firepaw began, about to introduce himself.
“Go away, both of you!” Spottedleaf protested. “How am I meant to help this cat with all these interruptions!” She impatiently flicked her tail at Graypaw and Firepaw and pushed her way between them and her patient.
Firepaw realized she was serious, despite the lively glimmer in her warm amber eyes.
“Come on then, Firepaw,” mewed Graypaw. “I’ll show you around. See you later, Ravenpaw.”
The two cats left Spottedleaf with Ravenpaw and walked across the clearing.
Graypaw looked thoughtful. He was clearly taking his duties as a guide very seriously. “You know the Highrock already,” he began, flicking his tail toward the big, smooth rock. “Bluestar always addresses the Clan from there. Her den is down there.” He lifted his nose toward a hollow in the side of the Highrock. “Her den was carved out many moons ago by an ancient stream.” Hanging lichen draped the entrance, sheltering the leader’s nest from wind and rain.
“The warriors sleep over here,” Graypaw went on.
Firepaw followed him to a large bush a few paces away from the Highrock. There was a clear view from here right down to the gorse entrance into the camp. The branches of the bush hung low, but Firepaw could see a sheltered space inside where the warriors made their nests.
“The senior warriors sleep nearest the center, where it’s warmest,” explained Graypaw. “They usually share their fresh-kill together over by that clump of nettles. The younger warriors eat nearby. Sometimes they are invited to join the senior warriors for eating, which is a big honor.”
“What about the other Clan cats?” Firepaw asked, fascinated but feeling rather overwhelmed by all the traditions and rituals of Clan life.
“Well, the queens share warrior quarters when they work as warriors, but when they are expecting kits, or nursing them, they stay in a nest near the nursery. The elders have their own place on the other side of the clearing. Come on, I’ll show you.”