Erin Hunter - Into The Wild

Tigerclaw eyed him thoughtfully. “Then I shall watch your progress with interest.”

Firepaw puffed his chest out proudly as Tigerclaw stalked away. “Do you think he liked me?”

“I don’t think Tigerclaw likes any apprentices!” whispered Graypaw.

Just then Ravenpaw stirred and twitched his ears. “Has he gone?” he mumbled.

“Who? Tigerclaw?” replied Graypaw, trotting toward him. “Yep, he’s gone.”

“Hi, there,” Firepaw began, about to introduce himself.

“Go away, both of you!” Spottedleaf protested. “How am I meant to help this cat with all these interruptions!” She impatiently flicked her tail at Graypaw and Firepaw and pushed her way between them and her patient.

Firepaw realized she was serious, despite the lively glimmer in her warm amber eyes.

“Come on then, Firepaw,” mewed Graypaw. “I’ll show you around. See you later, Ravenpaw.”

The two cats left Spottedleaf with Ravenpaw and walked across the clearing.

Graypaw looked thoughtful. He was clearly taking his duties as a guide very seriously. “You know the Highrock already,” he began, flicking his tail toward the big, smooth rock. “Bluestar always addresses the Clan from there. Her den is down there.” He lifted his nose toward a hollow in the side of the Highrock. “Her den was carved out many moons ago by an ancient stream.” Hanging lichen draped the entrance, sheltering the leader’s nest from wind and rain.

“The warriors sleep over here,” Graypaw went on.

Firepaw followed him to a large bush a few paces away from the Highrock. There was a clear view from here right down to the gorse entrance into the camp. The branches of the bush hung low, but Firepaw could see a sheltered space inside where the warriors made their nests.

“The senior warriors sleep nearest the center, where it’s warmest,” explained Graypaw. “They usually share their fresh-kill together over by that clump of nettles. The younger warriors eat nearby. Sometimes they are invited to join the senior warriors for eating, which is a big honor.”

“What about the other Clan cats?” Firepaw asked, fascinated but feeling rather overwhelmed by all the traditions and rituals of Clan life.

“Well, the queens share warrior quarters when they work as warriors, but when they are expecting kits, or nursing them, they stay in a nest near the nursery. The elders have their own place on the other side of the clearing. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Firepaw trotted after Graypaw, across the clearing, and past the shadowy corner where Spottedleaf had her den. They stopped beside a fallen tree that sheltered a patch of lush grass. Crouched among the soft greenery were four elderly cats tucking into a plump young rabbit.

“Dustpaw and Sandpaw would have brought them that,” whispered Graypaw. “One of the apprentices’ duties is catching fresh-kill for the elders.”

“Hello, youngster,” one of the elders greeted Graypaw.

“Hello, Smallear,” mewed Graypaw, nodding respectfully.

“This must be our new apprentice. Firepaw, isn’t it?” meowed a second tom. His patchy fur was dark brown, and there was only a stump where his tail should have been.

“That’s right,” Firepaw replied, copying Graypaw’s polite nod.

“I’m Halftail,” purred the brown tom. “Welcome to the Clan.”

“Have you two eaten?” meowed Smallear.

Firepaw and Graypaw both shook their heads.

“Well, there’s enough here. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are turning into fine hunters. Would you mind if these youngsters shared a mouse, One-eye?”

The pale gray queen who lay beside him shook her head. Firepaw noticed one of her eyes was clouded and sightless.

“What about you, Dappletail?”

The other elder, a tortoiseshell she-cat with a gray muzzle, meowed in a voice cracked with age, “Of course not.”

“Thank you,” mewed Graypaw eagerly. He stepped forward and took a large mouse from the pile of prey, then dropped it at Firepaw’s feet. “You still not tasted mouse?” he asked.

“No,” Firepaw admitted. He suddenly felt excited by the warm smells that were rising from this piece of fresh-kill. His whole body quivered at the thought of sharing his first real food as a Clan member.

“In that case, you can have first bite. Just save me some!” Graypaw dipped his head and stood back to give Firepaw room.

Firepaw crouched down and took a large bite from the mouse. It was juicy and tender, and sang with the flavors of the forest.

“What do you think?” asked Graypaw.

“Fantastic!” mumbled Firepaw, his mouth still full.

“Move over then,” mewed Graypaw, stepping forward and bending his head to take a bite.

As the two apprentices shared the mouse, they listened to the elders talk among themselves.

“How long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?” asked Smallear.

“What did you say, Smallear?” mewed One-eye.

“I think your hearing has become as poor as your eyesight!” snapped Smallear impatiently. “I said, how long before Bluestar appoints a new deputy?”

One-eye ignored Smallear’s irritated reply and spoke instead to the tortoiseshell queen. “Dappletail, do you remember the day many moons ago when Bluestar herself was appointed deputy?”

Dappletail mewed earnestly, “Oh, yes! It was not long after she lost her kits.”

“She’ll not be happy to be appointing a new deputy,” Smallear observed. “Redtail served her long and well. But she’ll need to make up her mind quickly. According to Clan custom, the choice has to be made before moonhigh after the death of the old deputy.”

“At least this time the choice is obvious,” meowed Halftail.

Firepaw raised his head and looked around the clearing. Who could Halftail mean? To Firepaw, all the warriors looked worthy of becoming deputy. Perhaps he meant Tigerclaw; after all, he had avenged Redtail’s death.

Tigerclaw was sitting not far off, his ears angled toward the elders’ conversation.

As Firepaw stretched with his tongue to lick the last traces of mouse from his whiskers, Bluestar’s voice called from the Highrock. Redtail’s body still lay in the clearing below, pale gray in the fading light. “A new deputy must be appointed,” she meowed. “But first, let us give thanks to StarClan for the life of Redtail. Tonight he sits with his fellow warriors among the stars.”

Silence fell as all the cats looked up into the sky, which was beginning to darken as evening crept over the forest.

“And now I shall name ThunderClan’s new deputy,” Bluestar continued. “I say these words before the body of Redtail, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice.”

Firepaw looked at Tigerclaw. He couldn’t help noticing the hunger in the big warrior’s amber eyes as he stared up at the Highrock.

“Lionheart,” meowed Bluestar, “will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

Firepaw was curious to see Tigerclaw’s reaction. But the dark warrior’s face revealed nothing as he moved to congratulate Lionheart with a nudge so hearty that it almost pushed the golden tabby off balance.

“Why didn’t she make Tigerclaw deputy?” Firepaw whispered to Graypaw.

“Probably because Lionheart has been a warrior longer, so he has a lot more experience,” Graypaw murmured back, still looking up at Bluestar.

Bluestar spoke again. “Redtail was also mentor to young Dustpaw. Since there must be no delay in the training of our apprentices, I shall appoint Dustpaw’s new mentor immediately. Darkstripe, you are ready for your first apprentice, so you will continue Dustpaw’s training. You had a fine mentor in Tigerclaw, and I expect you to pass on some of the excellent skills you were taught.”

The tabby warrior swelled with pride as he showed his acceptance with a solemn nod. He strode over to Dustpaw, bent his head, and rather awkwardly touched noses with his new apprentice. Dustpaw flicked his tail respectfully, but his eyes were still dull with grief for his lost mentor.