Erin Hunter - The Fourth Apprentice

Lionblaze opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak a rustling noise came from the den and Sedgewhisker sat up, stretching. Her eyes were filled with shock as she looked around; then she seemed to remember where she was and stood up, shaking scraps of moss from her pelt.

“Hi, Sedgewhisker,” Dovepaw called. “How’s your shoulder?”

The WindClan she-cat flexed her leg experimentally, then looked up, purring with relief. “It’s much better, thanks. I can hardly feel anything.”

As she spoke, the other cats began stirring, looking tense when they realized how close they were to cats of other Clans.

“We should get on with hunting,” Toadfoot announced, jumping out of his nest. “Before it gets too hot and all the prey is hiding down holes.”

“Don’t go too far,” Lionblaze warned the cats as they scattered. “Remember, those dogs might still be around.”

Dovepaw cast out her senses, but she couldn’t pick up a trace of the dogs. The stupid creatures are probably still asleep in their Twoleg’s den . What she did pick up was a squirrel somewhere among the trees on the other side of the stream; she leaped onto the far bank and headed toward it. I’ll make up for that miserable little mouse I caught yesterday .

Slipping between the trees, she spotted the squirrel nibbling a seed at the foot of a beech tree. Dovepaw pressed herself to the ground, checked that the wind was blowing her scent away from her prey, and dropped into the hunter’s crouch. Step by silent step, she pulled herself closer. That’s right…look the other way …

One swift blow of her paw brought the squirrel down, and she trotted proudly back to the others, who were gathering again beside the den. Lionblaze had killed a vole, while Tigerheart had a couple of shrews and Toadfoot had a mouse. Whitetail and Sedgewhisker had caught a rabbit together.

“You should teach us that technique of hunting as a pair,” Lionblaze was suggesting as Dovepaw padded up with her fresh-kill. “It could be useful.”

Whitetail acknowledged his words with a flick of her ears; Dovepaw guessed she didn’t feel comfortable teaching anything to cats from another Clan.

As the cats settled down to eat, Rippletail and Petalfur drew back. “We didn’t catch anything, so we can’t eat,” Petalfur meowed, with a longing look at the fresh-kill.

“Nonsense,” Whitetail replied briskly. “How are you going to travel if your bellies are empty?”

“That’s right,” Lionblaze added. “On this journey, we all share. Come on, there’s plenty.”

The two RiverClan cats crept back again and Dovepaw dropped her squirrel in front of them. “Thanks,” Rippletail muttered.

Dovepaw sensed their guilt and embarrassment as they started to eat, and she felt sorry for any cats who were so dependent on one kind of prey. No wonder the RiverClan cats were starving now that they couldn’t find fish.

When every cat had finished eating, they set out again, with Toadfoot in the lead. They padded silently along the bed of the stream, almost as uncomfortable with one another as they had been at the start of the journey; Dovepaw could feel the tension rising, as if each one had realized all over again that they didn’t know where they were going, or how they were going to get there.

Panic bubbled up inside her. They’re only here because of me. What if I’m wrong?

Pausing, she struggled to block out all the sounds of the forest around her, then closed her eyes and cast her senses ahead. At once, sounds began to travel down the streambed to the stones underneath her paws: scratching, gnawing, the slap of trapped water, and the paw steps of large brown animals slipping over a pile of tree trunks. She sensed their bulky bodies as they dragged more branches out into the stream.

“Dovepaw?” She jumped at the sound of Petalfur’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Dovepaw’s eyes blinked open to see the RiverClan cat at the rear of the group looking back over her shoulder.

“Uh…sure,” Dovepaw mewed, running to catch up. “I’m fine.”

Reassured that the brown animals really were up ahead, she fell in beside Petalfur as they padded on. The foliage overhead was growing thicker, blocking out the fierce rays of the sun, so that it felt as if the cats were traveling through a cool, dimly lit tunnel. Dovepaw even spotted a pool of water underneath the overhanging bank.

“Look at that!” she exclaimed, giving Petalfur a friendly flick on the shoulder with her tail. “Maybe there are some fish in there.”

Dovepaw had meant her words as gentle teasing, but the RiverClan she-cat’s ears pricked. “Maybe there are.”

She padded up to the edge of the pool and peered down into the unmoving green water. Rippletail came up to join her. “Fish?” he asked, tasting the air.

“Yes!” Petalfur’s tail went straight up in the air. “There are fish. They must have survived here when the rest of the stream dried up.”

“Do you think you can catch some?” Tigerheart asked curiously.

“Of course she can.” Rippletail’s eyes shone with pride.

“The rest of you stay back,” Petalfur instructed, waving them away with her tail. “If your shadows fall on the water, the fish will know they’re being hunted.”

“Just like staying downwind of prey,” Dovepaw murmured to Lionblaze as they retreated.

Rippletail and Petalfur crouched down at the edge of the pool and waited with their gazes fixed on the water. The wait stretched out. Dovepaw shifted her paws impatiently, then made herself stand still, wondering if fish could sense vibrations in the ground. Still they waited. Her legs ached and her fur itched; she stifled a yawn. Is this really how RiverClan cats catch their prey? That fish had better be worth it .

Suddenly Rippletail flashed one paw into the water and scooped a small silver fish out of the water in an arc of drops. It fell onto the dry streambed, where it flopped and wriggled until Petalfur killed it with a swipe.

“There,” she meowed. “The other fish have probably fled into the darkest corners now, but at least we have one piece of fresh-kill.”

“Come and share,” Rippletail offered. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted fish!”

The two RiverClan cats watched with glowing eyes as their companions approached cautiously. Whitetail was the first to give the fish an experimental nibble.

“Er…no, thanks,” she meowed, passing her tongue over her jaws. “I think I’ll stick to rabbit.”

“So will I,” Sedgewhisker agreed, after barely tasting it. “Sorry, but I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

“I bet I could!” Tigerheart meowed, taking a huge mouthful. “It’s great!” he mumbled around it.

Dovepaw waited for Toadfoot and Lionblaze to take a share, then crouched down in front of the fish and bit into it cautiously. The flavor was strong, and not unpleasant, though she much preferred mouse or squirrel.

“Thanks, it’s really…different,” she mewed as she stepped back to let the RiverClan cats finish up the fish.

As they moved on, she realized that she had fish all over her paws and whiskers. Mouse dung! Now I can’t smell anything else!

A little farther on the stream wound in a tight curve. Toadfoot, who had drawn some way ahead, halted. “Get up onto the bank now!” he ordered, spinning to face them.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Lionblaze called.

“Just do it!” Toadfoot hissed. His fur was fluffed up and his eyes were wide.

His urgency spread to the other cats like a gust of wind. Dovepaw scrambled up the steep bank with her companions on either side of her, and Toadfoot led them under the trees, lashing his tail to hurry them along.