Erin Hunter - Into The Wild

Firepaw and Graypaw fell in step together at the back of the group.

“Have you heard of Yellowfang?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.

“A bit. Apparently she was a warrior before she became a medicine cat, which is unusual. I can’t imagine her as a loner, though. She has lived her whole life in ShadowClan.”

“What’s a loner?”

Graypaw glanced at him. “A loner is a cat that isn’t part of a Clan or cared for by Twolegs. Tigerclaw says they are untrustworthy and selfish. They often live around Twoleg dwellings, but belong to no one and catch their own food.”

“I might end up a loner once Bluestar has finished with me,” Firepaw mewed.

“Bluestar is very fair,” Graypaw reassured him. “She won’t throw you out. She certainly seems pleased to have such an important ShadowClan cat as a prisoner. I’m sure she’s not going to make a fuss about your feeding the poor old mange-bag.”

“But they keep moaning about prey being scarce! Oh, why did I eat that rabbit?” Firepaw felt shame burn through his fur.

“Well, yeah.” Graypaw nudged his friend. “That was mouse-brained. You really broke the warrior code there, but no cat is perfect!”

Firepaw didn’t answer but trekked onward with a heavy heart. This was not the way he had hoped his first solo task would end.

As the patrol passed the sentries who guarded the camp entrance, the rest of ThunderClan came running to welcome their warriors home.

Queens, kits, and elders crowded on either side. They peered curiously at Yellowfang as she was led into the camp. Some of the elders recognized the old she-cat. Word spread quickly through the Clan that this was ShadowClan’s medicine cat, and a steady jeering hum rose up around them.

Yellowfang seemed deaf to the taunts. Firepaw couldn’t help admiring the way she limped with dignity through the corridor of stares and insults. He knew she was in a great deal of pain, and hungry in spite of the rabbit he had caught for her.

When the patrol reached the Highrock, Bluestar nodded toward the dusty ground in front of it. Yellowfang followed the ThunderClan leader’s silent command, sinking gratefully onto the earth. Still ignoring the hostile stares around her, she began licking her wounded leg.

Firepaw noticed Spottedleaf emerge from her corner. She must have scented the presence of an injured cat in the camp. He watched the crowd part to let the young tortoiseshell through.

Yellowfang glared at Spottedleaf and hissed, “I know how to take care of my own wounds. I don’t need your help.”

Spottedleaf said nothing but nodded respectfully and stepped back.

Some of the cats had been out hunting, and fresh-kill was brought for the returning warriors to eat. They each took some food and carried it away to the nettle patch to eat it. Then the other Clan cats crowded forward to take their own share.

Firepaw paced hungrily around the clearing and watched as the cats crouched in their usual groups, chewing and gulping. He longed for a morsel, but didn’t dare to take anything from the pile. He had broken the warrior code. He guessed that this meant he was forbidden his share in the fresh-kill.

He paused beside the Highrock where Bluestar was sharing words with Tigerclaw. Uncertain, Firepaw looked to his leader for a signal that he was allowed to eat. But the gray cat and her senior warrior were busy murmuring at one another in low tones. Firepaw wondered if they were talking about him. Desperate to know his fate, he strained his ears to hear what they were saying.

Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded impatient. “It’s just too dangerous to bring an enemy warrior into the heart of ThunderClan! Now that she knows the camp, even the youngest ShadowClan kit will hear of it. We will have to move.”

“Calm down, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar purred. “Why should we move? Yellowfang says that she is traveling alone now. There is no reason for ShadowClan to hear of it.”

“Do you really believe that? What on earth was that foolish kittypet thinking of?” Tigerclaw spat.

“But think for a moment, Tigerclaw,” mewed Bluestar. “Why would the ShadowClan medicine cat choose to leave her Clan? You seem to be afraid that Yellowfang will share our Clan secrets with ShadowClan, but have you thought about how many ShadowClan secrets she might share with us ?”

Firepaw could see by the way Tigerclaw’s fur began to flatten that Bluestar’s words made sense. The warrior nodded briefly, and then stalked off to take his share of the fresh-kill.

Bluestar remained where she was. She looked out across the clearing, where some of the younger kits were fighting and tumbling playfully in the dust. Then she stood up and began to walk toward Firepaw. His heart lurched. What was she going to say to him?

But Bluestar walked straight past him. She did not even glance at him; her eyes were clouded with unknown distant thoughts. “Frostfur!” she called out as she approached the nursery.

A pure white cat with dark blue eyes slipped out of the brambles. Inside, the noise of mewling grew louder.

“Hush, kits,” purred the white cat reassuringly. “I won’t be long.” Then she turned to her leader. “Yes, Bluestar? What is it?”

“One of our apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.”

Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits.

At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors.

Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth.

“Not for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.”

Firepaw looked over to Bluestar.

She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.”

Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body.

With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none.

Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow.

Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg.

Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily.

Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing.

Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.”

Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselves gracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak.

“Come on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position.