“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.
“We’re approaching RiverClan territory,” whispered Graypaw. “The Sunningrocks are over there.” He pointed with his soft muzzle to a treeless mound of boulders.
Firepaw felt his fur stand on end. This was where Redtail had been slain.
Lionheart stopped by a flat gray rock. “This is the boundary between ThunderClan and RiverClan territory. RiverClan rules the hunting grounds beside the great river,” he meowed. “Breathe deeply, Firepaw.”
The pungent smell of unfamiliar cats hit the roof of Firepaw’s mouth. He was surprised how different it smelled from the warm cat scents of the ThunderClan camp. And he was also surprised to realize just how familiar and comforting the ThunderClan scents seemed to him already.
“That is the smell of RiverClan,” Tigerclaw growled beside him. “Remember it well. It will be strongest at the boundary, because their warriors will have scent-marked the trees along here.” With these words, the dark tabby lifted his tail and sprayed his own mark on the flat rock.
“We’ll follow this boundary line, as it leads straight to Fourtrees,” Lionheart meowed.
He set off quickly, away from the Sunningrocks, followed by Tigerclaw. Graypaw and Firepaw trotted after them.
“What is Fourtrees?” Firepaw panted.
“It is where the territories of all four Clans meet,” replied Graypaw. “There are four great oaks there, as old as the Clans—”
“Be quiet!” ordered Tigerclaw. “Don’t forget how close we are to enemy territory!”
The two apprentices fell silent and Firepaw concentrated on walking silently. They crossed a shallow stream, keeping their paws dry by leaping from boulder to boulder across the pebbly riverbed.
By the time they reached Fourtrees, Firepaw was feeling completely out of breath and his paws ached. He wasn’t used to traveling so far and so fast. He was quite relieved when Lionheart and Tigerclaw led them out of the thick woods and stopped at the brow of a bush-covered slope.
It was sunhigh now. The clouds had cleared, and the wind had dropped. Below, in the dazzling sunlight, stood four enormous oaks, their dark green crowns reaching almost to the top of the steep slope.
“As Graypaw told you,” meowed Lionheart to Firepaw, “this is Fourtrees, where the territories of all four Clans meet. WindClan governs the high ground ahead of us, where the sun sets. You won’t be able to catch their scent today—the wind is blowing toward them. But you’ll learn it soon enough.”
“And ShadowClan holds power over there, in the darkest part of the forest,” added Graypaw, flicking his head sideways. “The elders say that the cold winds from the north blow over the ShadowClan cats and chill their hearts.”
“So many Clans!” Firepaw exclaimed. And so well organized, he added to himself, remembering Smudge’s lurid tales of wildcats wreaking terror in the forest.
“You see now why prey is so precious,” meowed Lionheart. “Why we must fight to protect what little we have.”
“But that seems foolish! Why can’t the Clans work together and share their hunting grounds, instead of fighting each other?” Firepaw suggested boldly.
A shocked silence greeted his words.
Tigerclaw was the first to reply. “That is treacherous thinking, kittypet,” he snapped.
“Don’t be too fierce, Tigerclaw,” warned Lionheart. “The ways of the Clans are new to this apprentice.” He looked at Firepaw. “You speak from your heart, young Firepaw. This will make you a stronger warrior one day.”
Tigerclaw growled. “Or it might make him give in to kittypet weakness right at the moment of attack.”
Lionheart glanced briefly at Tigerclaw before he continued. “The four Clans do come together peacefully, in a Gathering each moon. Here”—he bent his head toward the four mighty oaks below—“is where they meet. The truce lasts for as long as the moon is at its fullest.”
“Then there must be a meeting very soon?” Firepaw suggested, remembering how bright the moonlight had been the night before.
“Indeed there is!” answered Lionheart, sounding impressed. “Tonight, in fact. The Gatherings are very important because they allow the Clans to come together in peace for one night. But you must understand that longer alliances bring more trouble than they’re worth.”
“It is our Clan loyalty that makes us strong,” Tigerclaw meowed in agreement. “If you weaken that loyalty, you weaken our chances of survival.”
Firepaw nodded. “I understand,” he mewed.
“Come on,” meowed Lionheart, standing up. “Let’s keep moving.”
They paced along the ridge of the valley where Fourtrees stood. Now they were heading away from the sun as it began to sink in the afternoon sky. They crossed the stream at a place where it was narrow enough to leap over in one jump.
Firepaw sniffed the air. A new cat-scent touched his mouth glands, strong and sour. “Which Clan is that?” he asked.
“ShadowClan,” answered Tigerclaw grimly. “We are traveling along their border. Keep your wits about you, Firepaw. Fresher scents mean that a ShadowClan patrol is in the area.”
As Firepaw nodded, he heard a new noise. He stiffened, but the other cats kept up their pace, heading straight for the ominous rumbling.
“What’s that?” he called, trotting to catch up with them.
“You’ll see in a moment,” replied Lionheart.
Firepaw peered through the trees ahead. They seemed to be getting thinner, letting in a broad band of sunlight. “Are we at the edge of the woods?” he asked. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. The green forest scents were overlaid with other strange, dark smells. This time it was not cat-scent, but an odor that reminded him of his old Twoleg home. And the rumbling was getting louder, a ceaseless roar that made the ground tremble and ached in Firepaw’s ears.
“This is the Thunderpath,” meowed Tigerclaw.
Firepaw followed as Lionheart led them toward the edge of the forest. Then he sat down and all four cats looked out.
Firepaw could see a gray path like a river, cutting its way through the forest. The hard gray stone stretched ahead of him so far that the trees on the other side seemed blurred and tiny. Firepaw shuddered at the bitter smell that rose from the path.
Next moment he leaped back, his fur bristling, as a gigantic monster roared past. The branches of the trees on either side flapped madly in the wind that chased the speeding monster. Firepaw stared around at the other cats, his eyes wide, unable to speak. He had seen paths like this before near his old Twoleg home, but never this wide, nor with monsters so swift and fierce.
“Scared me too the first time,” remarked Graypaw. “But at least it helps to keep ShadowClan warriors from crossing into our territory. The Thunderpath runs for many pawsteps along our boundary line. And don’t worry; those monsters never seem to leave the Thunderpath. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t go too near.”
“It’s time we returned to camp,” meowed Lionheart. “You have seen all our boundaries now. But we’ll avoid Snakerocks, even though the way around is longer. An untrained apprentice would be easy prey for an adder, and I expect you are getting tired, Firepaw.”
Firepaw couldn’t help feeling relieved at the thought of returning to the camp. His head was spinnning with all the new smells and sights, and Lionheart was right: he was tired, and hungry. He fell in behind Graypaw as the cats turned away from the Thunderpath and headed back into the forest.
The dewy scents of evening filled the air as Firepaw made his way through the gorse entrance into the ThunderClan camp. Fresh-kill was waiting for them. Firepaw and Graypaw took their share from the pile that lay in a shady part of the clearing and carried it to the tree stump outside their quarters.
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’ll 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.
Then he smelled mouse. He recognized the odor instantly, remembering his first taste the night before. Wild energy surged through him, but he remained motionless, trying desperately to pinpoint the prey.
He strained his ears forward until he picked up the rapid pulsing of a tiny mouse heart. Then a flash of brown caught his eye. The creature was scrambling through the long grass that draped the edges of the stream. Firepaw shifted closer, remembering to keep his weight on his haunches until he was within striking distance. Then he pushed back hard on his hindpaws and sprang, kicking up sand as he rose.
The mouse raced away. But Firepaw was quicker. He scooped it into the air with one paw, threw it onto the sandy streambed, and lunged on top of it. He killed it quickly with one sharp bite.
Firepaw carefully lifted the warm body between his teeth and returned with his tail held high to the hollow where Tigerclaw and Lionheart waited. He had made his first kill. He was a true ThunderClan apprentice now.