“Whatever you want, dear.” Her gaze drifted away.
Tallkit felt a jab of disappointment. Didn’t she want him to stay? He stood up. She wants me to train so I can be as strong as Sandgorse. He clambered over the side of the nest. “See you later.”
Palebird didn’t answer. She was staring blankly at the den wall.
“Come on, Tallkit.” Sandgorse brushed his way through the nursery entrance.
Tallkit followed. He was pleased to see his father’s gaze brighten as slithered onto the snowy grass beside him.
“I knew one little fall wouldn’t put you off.” Sandgorse whisked Tallkit forward with his tail. “Let’s practice moving stones. Tunnelers have to learn to move rocks much heavier than themselves.”
“Really?” Tallkit scampered at his side as they crossed the camp.
“It’s an important skill.” Sandgorse nodded toward a row of rocks clustered beside the elders’ den. “Let’s try these. Just small ones to begin with.”
Small ones? Tallkit stared at the stones. They were as big as sparrows.
Sandgorse stopped beside the nearest, and beckoned Tallkit closer with a twitch of his tail. “Grab it with your forepaws, and use your weight to roll it toward you.”
Tallkit swallowed. “Won’t it squash me?”
“The first rule of tunneling is that you’re always stronger than you think,” Sandgorse told him.
Brown fur flashed at the corner of Tallkit’s gaze.
“I touched your tail! You’re the rabbit now!”
“Did not!”
“Did so.”
Shrewkit and Barkkit were chasing each other over the Hunting Stones. Heather sprigs quivered in their wake.
Sandgorse nudged the rock toward Tallkit. “Roll this one.”
Tallkit stared at it.
“Why do I always have to be the rabbit?”
“You don’t!”
Flattening his ears to block out the sound of his denmates playing, Tallkit reached up and rested his forepaws on the rock. With a grunt, he tried to heave it toward him. His belly tightened with the effort, but the stone didn’t move.
“Let’s try a smaller one.” Sandgorse pushed another stone closer.
As Tallkit reached for it, Flailfoot padded out of the elders’ den. His black pelt moved like a shadow against the frosty gorse. “He’s a bit young to be moving rocks.”
Sandgorse sniffed. “It’s never too early to start learning tunneling skills.”
Flailfoot sat down. “I didn’t move my first stone till I was an apprentice.”
Tallkit gritted his teeth. I’m going to move it! Hissing under his breath, he heaved. His claws slipped. His hind legs buckled. With a gasp, he fell backward and landed on his tail.
“Nice move, Wormkit!” Shrewkit called from the Hunting Stones.
Tallkit turned on him, ears flat. “I’m learning!”
“Take no notice,” Sandgorse advised. “Shrewkit thinks like a moor runner. He doesn’t understand patience.”
Tallkit’s heart sank. Would he have to spend the whole day trying to shift this dumb rock while Shrewkit and Barkkit played Rabbit on the Hunting Stones?
Heatherstar’s mew rang through the cold air. “Let all cats old enough to catch prey gather beneath Tallrock.”
Tallkit jerked around. The WindClan leader stood on top of the dark stone in the middle of the Meeting Hollow.
“Wait here,” Sandgorse ordered. He trotted across camp and bounded into the sandy hollow.
Flailfoot brushed past Tallkit. “Try starting with a smaller stone,” he suggested as he headed after Sandgorse.
Tallkit sat back on his haunches and watched his Clanmates streaming toward Tallrock. Aspenfall and Cloudrunner bounded down into the snow-whitened circle, lithe and light-footed. Redclaw and Dawnstripe followed. Meadowslip and Larksplash were already staring up expectantly at Heatherstar. They shifted to let the other moor runners settle beside them.
Sandgorse headed for the opposite end of the hollow, where the tunnelers sat, and stopped beside Woollytail and Hickorynose. Flailfoot jumped stiffly down beside them. Tail high, the old tunneler nodded to Reedfeather. The WindClan deputy, who was sitting at the foot of Tallrock, dipped his head in return.
Barkkit bounced toward Tallkit, eyes bright. “Aren’t you coming?” Shrewkit was already scrambling away across the tussocks.
Tallkit blinked. “But we’re not old enough to catch prey.”
“How do you know?” Barkkit shrugged. “You’ve never tried. Besides, we won’t sit with the warriors. We can watch from over there.” He pointed with his nose to where Shrewkit was threading his way through the long grass that edged the moor runners’ nests. “Come on.”
As Tallkit scampered after Barkkit, the camp entrance shivered. Lilywhisker and Whiteberry hurried in.
“Have they started?” Lilywhisker called to Flailfoot as she limped across camp.
“Not yet.” Flailfoot padded to the edge of the hollow and reached up to steady Lilywhisker as she scrambled down on her three good legs. She joined the tunnelers while Whiteberry headed for the moor runners on the far side of the hollow.
Mistmouse paced the rim, brushing past her mate, Hareflight. The brown tom stood as stiff as the trunk of a gorse bush, as though his claws had taken root. Tallkit paused beside the moor runners’ nests and watched them curiously. Mistmouse’s kits, Ryekit, Stagkit, and Doekit, were standing beside the two warriors.
“In here.” Barkkit nudged Tallkit into the grass beside Shrewkit.
Tallkit pushed through the long stems. “What are they doing at the hollow?” He jerked his nose toward Hareflight’s kits.
“I don’t know.” Barkkit burrowed deeper into the grass and peeped out.
“Hush!” Shrewkit hissed beside them. “I’m trying to hear.” His yellow eyes were fixed on the Meeting Hollow.
Heatherstar sprang down from Tallrock and weaved past her Clanmates until she reached the center. Mistmouse was fiercely smoothing the fur between Stagkit’s ears. Hareflight nudged Doekit and Ryekit closer to the edge.
“Ryekit, Doekit, and Stagkit!” Heatherstar called.
Tallkit felt Barkkit stiffen beside him. “It’s their apprentice ceremony!”
Tallkit leaned forward.
“Woollytail will get one of them,” Shrewkit guessed.
“But Hareflight’s a moor runner,” Barkkit reminded him.
“So?” Shrewkit whispered. “Woollytail’s been complaining for ages that WindClan needs more tunnelers. And Mistmouse will want at least one of her kits to follow in her paw steps.” He glanced at Tallkit. “I feel sorry for you. Being a tunneler must be awful.”
Tallkit scowled at him. “Sandgorse says it’s the noblest warrior life.”
“Sandgorse would,” Shrewkit scoffed. “He’s had so much mud in his ears it’s probably filled up his head.”
Tallkit unsheathed his claws, anger surging beneath his pelt. “That’s not true!”
Barkkit pressed against him softly. “Just watch the ceremony,” he murmured.
Stagkit was leading his sisters into the hollow. Ryekit’s paws slipped and she slithered down the icy slope. Warm purrs rumbled around her as she straightened and shook out her soft gray fur.
“Ryepaw.” Heatherstar met her gaze. The new apprentice’s eyes widened. “Your mentor will be Larksplash.” Ryepaw purred loudly as Larksplash stepped from among the moor runners and touched her head with her muzzle.
Heatherstar flicked her tail. “Larksplash, share your speed and sharp eyes with Ryepaw so that she too may become a warrior worthy of WindClan.” The WindClan leader turned to Doekit. “Doepaw,” she meowed. “Your mentor will be Aspenfall.”
Aspenfall pricked his ears, blinking, as though surprised.