Firestar’s Quest

The sun had risen high above the trees when he woke the next morning. A warm wind ruffled his fur as he stepped out into the clearing. Sootpaw was hurrying across the clearing with a huge ball of fresh moss for the elders’ bedding.

Ferncloud and Brightheart were sunning themselves at the entrance to the nursery, watching Shrewkit and Spiderkit play-fighting.

Firestar stiffened at the sound of high-pitched caterwauling coming from outside the camp. Somewhere close by, a cat was in terrible distress. Had his dream followed him into the waking world? Or was he still asleep, trapped in the same dream?

He forced his legs to carry him over to the gorse tunnel.

But before he reached the entrance to the camp, Cloudtail and Brackenfur appeared, supporting Longtail, whose jaws were stretched wide, letting out loud wails of anguish.

Cloudtail’s apprentice, Rainpaw, followed them into the camp, his fur bristling with shock.

Longtail’s eyes were closed; blood welled from beneath the swollen lids and spattered over his pale tabby fur. “I can’t see!

I can’t see!” he wailed.

“What happened?” Firestar demanded.

“We were out hunting,” Brackenfur explained. “Longtail caught a rabbit, and it turned on him and scratched his eyes.”

“Don’t worry,” Cloudtail reassured Longtail. “We’ll get you to Cinderpelt right away. She’ll fix you up.”

Firestar followed them as they guided Longtail across the clearing and through the tunnel of ferns. Cloudtail called for Cinderpelt, who appeared from the cleft in the rock and limped rapidly to Longtail’s side. “How did this happen?”

Brackenfur repeated what he had told Firestar, while Cinderpelt rested her tail gently on Longtail’s shoulder.

The tabby warrior’s wailing had died away into shallow, rasping breaths. He was shivering violently. “I can’t see,” he whispered. “Cinderpelt, am I going to be blind?”

“I can’t tell until I’ve examined your eyes,” Cinderpelt replied. Firestar knew she wouldn’t try to comfort Longtail with a lie. “Come over here and sit down in the ferns where I can get a proper look at you.”

She led him to a clump of bracken just outside the opening to her den. Longtail slumped onto his side, still panting hard.

“Rainpaw, bring me some moss soaked in water,” Cinderpelt directed, “as fast as you can.” The apprentice glanced at his mentor, and when Cloudtail nodded he sped off, leaving the ferns of the tunnel waving behind him. “The rest of you can go,” the medicine cat added, “and let Longtail have a bit of peace and quiet.”

Cloudtail and Brackenfur turned to leave, but Firestar padded over to Cinderpelt, who was calming Longtail with one paw stroking his flank.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Just go with the others and let me get on with it,” Cinderpelt replied, her tart tones reminding Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang. As Firestar turned away, she added, “Oh, you might ask Cloudtail to let me have Rainpaw for the rest of the day. An apprentice to fetch and carry would be useful.”

“Good idea,” Firestar replied. “I’ll tell him.”

His heart was torn with pity for Longtail. The tabby warrior had challenged Firestar when he first arrived in the forest, and he had been far too close to Tigerstar. But when the murderous deputy’s plans became clear, Longtail had realized where his true loyalties lay, and since then he had become one of Firestar’s most trusted warriors.

When Firestar reached the clearing he saw Cloudtail and Brackenfur standing with Brightheart, who was anxiously questioning them. Mousefur and Graystripe had come out of the warriors’ den to find out what was going on.

Firestar padded over to Cloudtail and passed on Cinderpelt’s request about Rainpaw.

“Sure,” the white warrior meowed. “It’s all good training for Rainpaw, anyway.”

“What’s going to happen to Longtail?” Brightheart fretted.

“Will he really go blind?”

“Cinderpelt doesn’t know yet,” Firestar replied. “Let’s hope the damage isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“I was lucky,” Brightheart murmured, half to herself. “At least I’ve still got one eye.”

Glancing around at their troubled faces, Firestar tried to give them something else to think about. “What about the hunting patrol?” he asked Cloudtail and Brackenfur. “You’d better carry on, and I’ll come with you. Whatever happens, the Clan still needs to be fed.”

“I’ll lead another,” Graystripe offered. “Mousefur, are you up for it?”

The wiry brown warrior nodded, lashing her tail. “I’ll fetch Dustpelt,” she meowed.

As she loped off toward the warriors’ den, Firestar cast a final glance back at the fern tunnel. Everything was quiet now in Cinderpelt’s clearing. “Oh, StarClan,” he whispered, “don’t let Longtail lose his sight.”

That night Firestar was too restless to settle in his den. He was afraid the dream would return. He had come to dread the unknown moorland and the cries of distress from cats he had no power to help.