Erin Hunter - Into The Wild

“That’s when the RiverClan cats attacked. It was hard to see what was happening. The fighting was vicious. I saw Oakheart had Redtail pinned to the ground, but then Redtail…” Suddenly Ravenpaw’s eyes rolled in his head and he lurched sideways. Half scrambling, half falling, he slithered off the Highrock and collapsed on the ground below.

A ginger queen bounded toward him and crouched at his side. She licked his cheek briefly and called out, “Spottedleaf!”

Out of the fern-shaded corner trotted the pretty tortoiseshell Firepaw had noticed sitting beside Graypaw earlier. She hurried over to Ravenpaw and mewed for the queen to stand back. Then she used her small pink nose to roll the apprentice over so that she could take a good look at the wound. She glanced up and meowed, “It’s all right, Goldenflower, his wounds aren’t fatal. But I’ll need to fetch some cobwebs to stop the bleeding.”

As Spottedleaf sprinted back to her den, the hushed silence in the clearing was broken by a mournful howl. All eyes turned to the direction it had come from.

A massive dark brown tabby staggered through the gorse tunnel. Between his sharp teeth the warrior held not prey, but the lifeless body of another cat. He dragged the tattered creature into the center of the clearing.

Firepaw craned his neck and glimpsed a flash of bright ginger tail hanging limply in the dust.

Shock rippled through the Clan like a chill breeze. Beside Firepaw, Graypaw dropped into a crouch as grief swept over him. “Redtail!”

“How did this happen, Tigerclaw?” demanded Bluestar from her position on the Highrock.

Tigerclaw let the scruff of Redtail’s neck fall from his mouth. He looked steadily back at Bluestar. “He died with honor, struck down by Oakheart. I couldn’t save him, but I managed to take Oakheart’s life while he was still gloating over his victory.” Tigerclaw’s voice was strong and deep. “Redtail’s death was not in vain, for I doubt we’ll see RiverClan hunters in our territory again.”

Firepaw glanced at Graypaw. The apprentice’s eyes were dark with sadness.

After a moment’s pause, several of the cats moved forward to lick Redtail’s bedraggled fur. As they groomed they purred hushed phrases to the dead warrior.

Firepaw whispered into Graypaw’s ear, “What are they doing?”

Graypaw didn’t take his eyes off the dead cat as he replied. “His spirit may have left to join StarClan, but the Clan will share tongues with Redtail one last time.”

“StarClan?” Firepaw echoed.

“It’s the tribe of heavenly warriors that watches over all Clan cats. You can see them in Silverpelt.”

Firepaw looked confused, so Graypaw explained. “Silverpelt is that thick band of stars you see each night stretching across the sky. Each star is a StarClan warrior. Redtail will be among them tonight.”

Firepaw nodded, and Graypaw stepped forward to share tongues with his dead deputy.

Bluestar had remained silent while the first cats came to pay their respects to Redtail. Now she leaped down from the Highrock and walked slowly toward Redtail’s body. The other cats retreated and watched as their leader crouched down to share tongues with her old comrade one last time.

When she had finished she raised her head and spoke. Her voice was low and thick with grief, and the Clan listened in silence. “Redtail was a brave warrior. His loyalty to ThunderClan could never be doubted. I always relied on his judgment, for it bore witness to the needs of the Clan, and was never swayed by self-interest or pride. He would have made a fine leader.”

Then she lowered herself onto her belly, her head bowed, her paws stretched neatly before her, and silently she grieved for her lost friend. Several other cats came and lay down beside her, their bowed heads and hunched backs echoing her mournful pose.

Firepaw watched. He had not known Redtail, but he couldn’t help feeling moved as he witnessed the Clan mourn.

Graypaw came and stood beside him again. “Dustpaw will be sad,” he remarked.

“Dustpaw?”

“Redtail’s apprentice. That brown-striped tabby over there. I wonder who his new mentor will be?”

Firepaw glanced over at the small tom who squatted near Redtail’s body, staring unseeing at the ground. Firepaw looked past him to the Clan leader. “How long will Blusetar sit with him?” he asked.

“Probably the whole night,” replied Graypaw. “Redtail was her deputy for many, many moons. She won’t want to let him go too quickly. He was one of the best warriors. Not as big and powerful as Tigerclaw or Lionheart, but quick and clever.”

Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw, admiring the strength that swelled in his powerful muscles and broad head. His massive body showed signs of his warrior life. One of his ears was split into a deep vee shape, and a thick scar sliced the bridge of his nose.

Suddenly Tigerclaw stood up and stalked over to Ravenpaw. Spottedleaf was crouching beside Tigerclaw’s wounded apprentice, using her teeth and front paws to press wads of cobweb onto his shoulder wound.

Firepaw leaned toward Graypaw and asked, “What’s Spottedleaf doing?”

“Stopping the bleeding. It looked like a nasty cut. And Ravenpaw seemed really shaken up. He’s always been a bit jumpy, but I’ve never seen him this bad before. Let’s go and see if he’s woken up yet.”

They made their way through the grieving cats toward the spot where Ravenpaw lay and settled themselves a respectful distance away to wait until Tigerclaw had finished speaking.

“So, Spottedleaf.” Tigerclaw addressed the tortoiseshell with a confident meow. “How is he? Do you think you can save him? I’ve spent a lot of time training him up, and I don’t want my efforts to be wasted at the first battle.”

Spottedleaf didn’t look up from her patient as she replied. “Yes, a pity if, after all your valuable training, he dies in his first fight, eh?” Firepaw could hear a teasing purr in her soft mew.

“Will he live?” Tigerclaw demanded.

“Of course. He just needs to rest.”

Tigerclaw snorted and looked down at the motionless black shape. He jabbed Ravenpaw with one of his front claws. “Come on, then! Get up!”

Ravenpaw didn’t move.

“Look at the length of that claw!” Firepaw hissed.

“Too right!” replied Graypaw with feeling. “I know I wouldn’t want to get into a fight with him!”

“Not so fast, Tigerclaw!” Spottedleaf placed her paw over Tigerclaw’s sharp talon and gently moved it away. “This apprentice needs to keep as still as possible until the cut has healed. We don’t want him opening his wound by jumping about trying to please you. Leave him alone.”

Firepaw found himself holding his breath as he waited for Tigerclaw’s reaction. He guessed that few cats dared to give orders to the warrior like that. The big tabby stiffened, and seemed about to speak when Spottedleaf mewed teasingly, “Even you know better than to argue with a medicine cat, Tigerclaw.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes flashed at the little tortoiseshell’s words. “I wouldn’t dare argue with you , dear Spottedleaf,” he purred. He turned to leave and caught sight of Graypaw and Firepaw. “Who’s this?” he asked Graypaw, towering above them.

“He’s the new apprentice,” Graypaw mewed.

“He smells like a kittypet!” snorted the warrior.

“I was a house cat,” Firepaw meowed boldly, “but I am going to train to be a warrior.”

Tigerclaw looked at him with sudden interest. “Ah, yes. Now I remember. Bluestar mentioned that she had stumbled across some stray kittypet. So she’s actually going to try you out, is she?”

Firepaw sat up very straight, anxious to impress this distinguished Clan warrior. “That’s right,” he mewed respectfully.