Firestar’s Quest

He broke off as another voice called out a greeting. Barley, the black-and-white cat who shared the barn with Ravenpaw, appeared at the top of a pile of straw bales and dropped neatly down at Firestar’s side. He was a short, compact cat, well muscled, even though his belly was a bit too plump from all the mice that lived in the barn.

“Do you want to hunt?” he offered. “There’s plenty of prey.

Take as much as you like.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Firestar answered regretfully. Water flooded his jaws at the smell of mice; he could hear the tiny squeakings among the straw. “I’m on my way to the Moonstone, so I’m not allowed to eat.”

“That’s tough,” meowed Ravenpaw. “But you can rest here, can’t you? There’s no point in going to Highstones yet. You’ll arrive long before sunset.”

“Thanks. I’m so tired I could sleep on my paws.”

Ravenpaw led the way to the opposite side of the barn, where he and Barley had made nests in a loose heap of hay.

Barley left them to talk together, giving Firestar a friendly nod before sliding out of the barn.

Firestar turned around two or three times, making himself a comfortable spot before curling up with the sweet-smelling stems tickling his nose.

“So, what brings you to the Moonstone?” Ravenpaw asked, and added hastily, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Firestar hesitated. So far the only cat he’d confided in was Cinderpelt, and he hadn’t told her everything. He suddenly realized what a relief it would be to share his worries with a cat who didn’t look upon him as a leader, but as a friend.

“I’ve had strange dreams,” he began, describing for Ravenpaw the stretch of unfamiliar moorland and the shrill wailing of cats lost in the mist. “And that’s not all. I’ve started to see things when I’m awake, too. There’s one cat—a pale gray warrior—that I’ve seen three times now. Not just him… a whole Clan of cats, shining like starlight. I saw them last night at the Gathering, but no other cat knew they were there.

Sometimes I think I’m going mad.”

Ravenpaw’s green eyes were filled with concern. “Are you sure they’re not from StarClan?”

For a heartbeat Firestar felt how strange it was to talk about StarClan with a cat who didn’t belong to a Clan anymore.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten my warrior ancestors,” Ravenpaw put in, as though he guessed what his friend was thinking. “I may not go to Gatherings anymore, but there’s a part of me that will always be a Clan cat.”

Firestar blinked, understanding. “I’m sure the cats I’ve seen aren’t any of the warrior ancestors I know. I don’t recognize any of them, or their scent. I don’t know who or what they are, or why I keep seeing them. That’s what worries me.”

Ravenpaw flicked the white tip of his tail. “StarClan will probably be able to explain when you share tongues tonight.

Why don’t you sleep now, so you’ll be ready?”

“I think I will,” Firestar murmured. “Wake me at sunhigh, please.”

With a drowsy purr, he settled himself more comfortably in his nest of hay. Sunlight slanted through the dust-filled air, the motes dancing like tiny stars. His eyes closed, and he drifted into a warm, hay-scented sleep.

Only a few heartbeats seemed to have passed before Firestar felt a paw prodding him in the side. He blinked his eyes open to see Ravenpaw standing over him.

“It’s sunhigh,” the black cat meowed.

Firestar rose and arched his back in a luxurious stretch. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so soundly. In the ThunderClan camp, even if he didn’t dream of the moorland, his sleep had been disturbed ever since he first saw the pale gray cat. He wondered if he had rested so well because he was away from the forest. Was it only there that the strange cats could reach him?

He said a quick good-bye to Barley and Ravenpaw. The prey scent in the barn was more enticing than ever, reminding him of his empty belly. He wished he had taken the time to hunt and eat before he left Fourtrees, but it was too late now. He left the barn and temptation behind him, and set out for Highstones.

By the time he reached the ridge, crossing the Thunderpath and scrambling up the rocky slopes, the sun was going down. The dark hole of Mothermouth gaped in the hillside. Firestar found a flat-topped stone and sat looking out across the Twoleg fields and nests, until darkness fell and the moon shed its silver light over the jagged rocks.

He had walked down the lightless tunnel that led to the Moonstone many times, but fear still gripped his belly as he stepped into the hungry shadows. Only his whiskers brushing the walls on each side and his paws on the rough, downward slope told him which way to go. Once he had left the opening behind him, the air was stale, with a tang of dust and stone.

Firestar shivered to think of the weight of rock above his head, pressing down on the fragile tunnel.