Erin Hunter - Into The Wild

Dustpaw and Sandpaw were already there, munching hungrily.

“Hi, there, kittypet,” mewed Dustpaw, narrowing his eyes scornfully at Firepaw. “Enjoy the food we caught for you.”

“Who knows, you might even learn to catch your own one day!” sneered Sandpaw.

“Are you two still on hunting duty?” asked Graypaw innocently. “Never mind. We’ve been patrolling our territory borders. You’ll be glad to know all is safe.”

“I’m sure the other Clans were terrified when they smelled you two coming!” yowled Dustpaw.

“They didn’t even dare show their faces,” retorted Graypaw, unable to hide his anger.

“Well, we’ll ask them tonight when we see them at the Clan Gathering,” mewed Sandpaw.

“Are you going?” Firepaw blurted out, impressed in spite of the apprentices’ hostility.

“Of course,” replied Dustpaw loftily. “It’s a great honor, you know. But don’t worry; we’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

Graypaw ignored Dustpaw’s gloating and started eating his fresh-kill. Firepaw was hungry too, and crouched down to eat. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy that Dustpaw and Sandpaw were actually going to meet the other Clans tonight.

A loud call from Bluestar made Firepaw look up. He watched several of the Clan warriors and elders gather in the clearing. It was time for the Clan party to leave for the Gathering. Dustpaw and Sandpaw leaped to their feet and trotted off to join the other cats.

“’Bye, you two,” called Sandpaw over her shoulder. “Have a nice, quiet evening!”

The assembled cats stalked out of the camp entrance in single file, with Bluestar at the head. Her fur glowed like silver in the moonlight, and she looked calm and confident as she led her Clan to the brief truce between old enemies.

“Have you ever been to a Gathering?” Firepaw asked Graypaw wistfully.

“Not yet,” replied Graypaw, crunching loudly on a mouse bone. “But it won’t be long now; just you wait. All the apprentices get to go sometime.”

The two apprentices ate the rest of their meal in silence. When they had finished, Graypaw wandered over to Firepaw and began to groom his head. Together they washed, sharing tongues as Firepaw had seen the other cats do when he first arrived. Then, tired after the long trek, they pushed their way into their den. They settled down in their nests and quickly fell asleep.

The following morning, Graypaw and Firepaw arrived early at the sandy hollow. They had crept out before Sandpaw and Dustpaw woke. Firepaw had been eager to hear about the Gathering, but Graypaw had dragged him away. “You’ll hear all about it later, if I know those two,” he had mewed.

It promised to be another warm day. And this time Ravenpaw came to join them. Thanks to Spottedleaf, his wound was healing well.

Graypaw played around, scooping leaves into the air and leaping after them. Firepaw watched, his tail twitching with amusement. Ravenpaw sat quietly at one side of the hollow, looking tense and unhappy.

“Cheer up, Ravenpaw!” called Graypaw. “I know you don’t like training, but you’re not usually this miserable!”

The scents of Lionheart and Tigerclaw warned the apprentices of their approach, and Ravenpaw mewed hastily, “I suppose I’m just worried about my shoulder getting hurt again.”

At that moment, Tigerclaw emerged from the bushes, closely followed by Lionheart.

“Warriors should suffer their pain silently,” growled Tigerclaw. He looked Ravenpaw straight in the eye. “You need to learn to hold your tongue.”

Ravenpaw flinched and dropped his eyes to the ground.

“Tigerclaw’s a bit grumpy today,” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear.

Lionheart glanced at his apprentice sternly and announced, “Today we are going to practice stalking. Now, there is a big difference between creeping up on a rabbit and creeping up on a mouse. Can any of you tell me why?”

Firepaw had no idea, and Ravenpaw seemed to have taken Tigerclaw’s comment to heart and was holding his tongue.

“Come on!” snorted Tigerclaw impatiently.

It was Graypaw who answered: “Because a rabbit will smell you before he sees you, but a mouse will feel your pawsteps through the ground before he even smells you.”

“Exactly, Graypaw! So what must you bear in mind when hunting mice?”

“Step lightly?” Firepaw suggested.

Lionheart looked approvingly at him. “Quite right, Firepaw. You must take all your weight into your haunches, so that your paws make no impact on the forest floor. Let’s try it!”

Firepaw watched as Graypaw and Ravenpaw immediately dropped into a stalking crouch.

“Nicely done, Graypaw!” meowed Lionheart as the two apprentices began to move forward stealthily.

“Keep your rear down, Ravenpaw, you look like a duck!” spat Tigerclaw. “Now you try it, Firepaw.”

Firepaw crouched down and began to creep across the forest floor. He felt himself fall instinctively into the right position, and as he stepped forward, as silently and lightly as he could, he felt a glow of pride that his muscles responded so smoothly.

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve known nothing but softness!” growled Tigerclaw. “You stalk like a lumbering kittypet! Do you think dinner is going to come and lie down in your food dish and wait to be eaten?”

Firepaw sat up quickly as Tigerclaw spoke, a little taken aback by his harsh words. He listened carefully to the warrior, determined to get everything right.

“His pace and forward movement will come later, but his crouch is perfectly balanced,” Lionheart pointed out mildly.

“Which is better than Ravenpaw, I suppose,” complained Tigerclaw. He cast a scornful look at the black cat. “Even after two moons of training, you’re still putting all your weight on your left side.”

Ravenpaw looked even more dejected, and Firepaw couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “His injury is bothering him, that’s all!”

Tigerclaw whipped his head around and glared at Firepaw. “Injuries are a fact of life. He should be able to adapt. Even you, Firepaw, have learned something this morning. If Ravenpaw picked up things as quickly as you, he’d be a credit to me instead of an embarrassment. Imagine being shown up by a kittypet!” he spat angrily at his apprentice.

Firepaw felt his fur prickle with discomfort. He couldn’t meet Ravenpaw’s eyes, so he looked down at his paws.

“Well, I’m more lopsided than a one-legged badger,” mewed Graypaw, breaking off from his careful stalking to stagger comically across the clearing. “I think I’ll have to settle for hunting stupid mice. They won’t stand a chance. I shall just wander up to them and sit on them till they surrender.”

“Concentrate, young Graypaw. This is no time for your jokes!” meowed Lionheart sternly. “Perhaps you might focus your mind better if you try out your stalking for real.”

All three apprentices looked up brightly.

“I want each one of you to try catching real prey,” meowed Lionheart. “Ravenpaw, you look beside the Owltree. Graypaw, there might be something in that big bramble patch over there. And you, Firepaw, follow the rabbit track over that rise; you’ll find the dry bed of a winter stream. You may find something there.”

The three apprentices bounded away, even Ravenpaw finding some extra energy for this challenge.

With the blood pounding in his ears, Firepaw crept slowly up over the rise. Sure enough, a streambed cut through the trees ahead of him. In leaf-fall, he guessed it would carry the rainwater away from the forest and into the great river that cut through RiverClan territory. Now it was dry.

Firepaw crept quietly down the bank and crouched on its sandy floor. Every sense felt on fire with tension. Silently he scanned the empty stream for signs of life. He watched for any tiny movement, his mouth open so he could pick up the smallest scent, his ears twisted forward.