Erin Hunter - Into The Wild

Bluestar raised her voice. “I shall keep a vigil with Redtail’s body tonight, before we bury him at sunrise.” She jumped down from the Highrock and walked over to lie beside Redtail’s body once more. Many of the other cats joined her, Dustpaw and Smallear among them.

“Should we sit with them too?” Firepaw suggested. He had to admit the idea didn’t appeal to him much. It had been a busy day and he was beginning to feel tired. All he wanted to do was find somewhere warm and dry to curl up and sleep.

Graypaw shook his head. “No, only those who were closest to Redtail will share his final night. I’ll show you where we sleep. The apprentices’ den is over here.”

Firepaw followed Graypaw to a thick bush of ferns that lay behind a mossy tree stump.

“All the apprentices share their fresh-kill by this stump,” Graypaw told him.

“How many apprentices are there?” Firepaw asked.

“Not as many as usual-just me, you, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw.”

As Graypaw and Firepaw settled themselves beside the tree stump, a young she-cat crawled out from beneath the ferns. Her coat was ginger, like Firepaw’s, but much paler, with barely visible stripes of darker fur.

“So here comes the new apprentice!” she meowed, narrowing her eyes.

“Hello,” Firepaw mewed.

The young cat sniffed rudely. “He smells like a kittypet! Don’t tell me I’m going to have to share my nest with that revolting stench!”

Firepaw felt rather taken aback. Since his fight with Longtail, all the cats had been quite friendly. Maybe they had just been distracted by Ravenpaw’s news, he thought.

“You’ll have to excuse Sandpaw,” apologized Graypaw. “I think she must have a furball stuck somewhere. She’s not usually this bad-tempered.”

“Psst!” spat Sandpaw crossly.

“Hold on, youngsters.” The deep voice of Whitestorm sounded behind the apprentices. “Sandpaw! As my apprentice, I expected you to be a little more welcoming to this newcomer.”

Sandpaw held up her head and looked defiant. “I’m sorry, Whitestorm,” she purred, not sounding sorry at all. “I just didn’t expect to be training with a kittypet , that’s all!”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, Sandpaw,” meowed Whitestorm calmly. “Now, it’s getting late, and training starts early tomorrow. You three should get some sleep.” He gave Sandpaw a stern look, and she nodded obediently. As he walked off, she spun around and vanished into the clump of ferns, sniffing once more as she brushed past Firepaw.

With a flick of his tail, Graypaw invited Firepaw to follow him, and led the way after Sandpaw. Inside the sleeping area, the ground was lined with soft moss, and the pale moonlight turned everything a delicate shade of green. The air was fragrant with fern scent, and warmer than outside.

“Where do I sleep?” Firepaw asked.

“Anywhere, just so long as it’s not near me!” snarled Sandpaw, who was prodding some moss with her paw.

Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged glances, but said nothing. Firepaw raked together a pile of moss with his claws. When he had gathered his bed into a cozy nest, he circled until it was comfortable and settled down. His whole body felt drowsy with contentment. This was his home now. He was a member of ThunderClan.

“Hey, Firepaw, wake up!” Graypaw’s meow broke into Firepaw’s dream. He had been chasing a squirrel, up and up, into the topmost branches of a tall oak.

“Training begins at sunrise. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are already up,” Graypaw added urgently.

Firepaw stretched sleepily, then remembered: today was his first day of training. He leaped to his paws. His drowsiness evaporated as excitement surged through his veins.

Graypaw was giving himself a hasty wash. Between licks, he meowed, “I’ve just spoken to Lionheart. Ravenpaw won’t be training with us till his wound is better. He’ll probably stay at Spottedleaf’s den for another day or two. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are on hunting duty. So Lionheart thought you and I could train with him and Tigerclaw this morning. We’d better hurry, though,” he added. “They’ll be waiting!”

Graypaw led Firepaw quickly through the gorse entrance of the camp and up the side of the rock-strewn valley. As they climbed over the crest of the ravine, a cool breeze ruffled their fur. Fat, white clouds raced across the blue sky overhead. Firepaw felt fierce joy well up inside him as he followed Graypaw down a tree-shaded slope and into a sandy hollow.

Tigerclaw and Lionheart were indeed waiting, sitting a few tail-lengths apart on the sun-warmed sand.

“In future, I expect you both to be punctual,” growled Tigerclaw.

“Don’t be too severe, Tigerclaw; it was a busy night last night. I expect they were tired,” meowed Lionheart gently. “You have not yet been assigned a mentor, Firepaw,” he went on. “For now, Tigerclaw and I will share your training.”

Firepaw nodded enthusiastically, his tail held high, unable to disguise his delight at having two such great warriors as his mentors.

“Come,” meowed Tigerclaw impatiently. “Today we are going to show you the edges of our territory, so that you know where you will be hunting and what boundaries you need to protect. Graypaw, it won’t do you any harm to remind yourself of the Clan’s outer limits.”

Without another word, Tigerclaw leaped up and bounded out of the sandy hollow. Lionheart nodded to Graypaw and they took off with equal speed. Firepaw scrambled after them, his paws slipping on the soft sand.

The trees were thick in this part of the forest, birch and ash trees overshadowed by mighty oaks. The ground was carpeted with crisp dead leaves that rustled beneath their paws. Tigerclaw paused to spray his scent on a thick clump of ferns. The other cats stopped beside him.

“There is a Twoleg path here,” murmured Lionheart. “Use your nose, Firepaw. Can you smell anything?”

Firepaw sniffed. There was the faint scent of a Twoleg, and the stronger smell of a dog, familiar to him from his old home. “A Twoleg has walked his dog along here, but they are gone now,” he mewed.

“Good,” meowed Lionheart. “Do you think it is safe to cross?”

Firepaw sniffed again. The odors were weak and seemed overlaid with fresher forest smells. “Yes,” he replied.

Tigerclaw nodded, and the four cats stalked out from beneath the ferns and crossed the sharp stones of the narrow Twoleg path.

The trees beyond were pine. They grew tall and straight, row after row. It was easy to walk silently here. The ground was thick with layers of dead needles, which prickled against Firepaw’s pads but felt spongy underneath. There was no undergrowth here to hide in, and Firepaw sensed tension in the other cats as they stalked unprotected between the tree trunks.

“Twolegs put these trees here,” meowed Tigerclaw. “They cut them down with foul-smelling creatures, which spew enough fumes to make a kit go blind. Then they take the fallen trees to the Treecut place that lies near here.”

Firepaw stopped and listened for the roar of the tree-eater, which he had heard before.

“The Treecut place will be silent for a few moons more, until the time of greenleaf,” explained Graypaw, noticing his pause.

The cats padded on through the pine forest.

“Twolegplace lies in that direction,” meowed Tigerclaw, flicking his thick tail to one side. “No doubt you can smell it, Firepaw. Today, however, we will head the other way.”

Eventually they reached another Twoleg path that marked the far edge of the pine forest. They quickly crossed over into the safe bushes of the oak woods beyond. But Firepaw still sensed anxiety in the other cats.