Into The Wild

Graypaw rose to his feet. He winced and shook himself. “It felt like it!” he grumbled, twisting his head around to lick his sore shoulders. “You’ve raked me to shreds!”

“Sorry,” Firepaw mumbled. “But what was I supposed to think, with you creeping up on me like that?”

“Creeping up!” Graypaw’s eyes were round with indignation. “That was my best stealth crouch.”

“Stealth! You still stalk like a lopsided badger!” Firepaw teased. He flattened his ears playfully.

Graypaw gave a hiss of delight. “I’ll show you lopsided!”

The two cats leaped at each other and began rolling over and over in a play-fight. Graypaw swiped at Firepaw with a hefty paw and the young apprentice’s head buzzed with stars.

“Uufff-ff!” Firepaw shook his head to clear it and then launched a counterattack.

He managed to get in a couple of paw strikes before Graypaw overpowered him and held him down. Firepaw let his body go limp.

“You give up too easily!” mewed Graypaw, loosening his grip. As he did so, Firepaw sprang to his feet, firing Graypaw off his back and into the undergrowth.

Firepaw leaped after him and pinned him to the ground. “‘Surprise is the warrior’s greatest weapon,’” he crowed, quoting one of Lionheart’s favorite phrases. He jumped nimbly off Graypaw and began to squirm around in the leaf litter, enjoying his easy victory and the warmth of the earth against his back.

Graypaw seemed unbothered by his second defeat of the morning. It was too fine a day for bad temper. “So how’re you getting on with your task?” he asked.

Firepaw sat up. “I was doing just fine till you came along! I was about to catch a vole when your noisy trampling frightened it off.”

“Oh, sorry,” mewed Graypaw.

Firepaw looked at his crestfallen friend. “That’s okay. You didn’t know,” he purred. “Anyway,” he continued, “shouldn’t you be heading to meet the patrol on the WindClan border? I thought you had to give them a message from Bluestar.”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of time. I was going to do a little hunting first. I’m starving!”

“Me too. But I’ve got to hunt for the Clan before I can hunt for myself.”

“I bet Dustpaw and Sandpaw used to swallow a shrew or two when they were on hunting duty,” snorted Graypaw.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, but this is my first solo assignment…”

“And you want to do it right; I know.” Graypaw sighed.

“What is the message from Bluestar, anyway?” Firepaw asked, changing the subject.

“She wants the patrol to wait at the Great Sycamore until she joins them at sunhigh. Seems that some ShadowClan cats have been prowling around. Bluestar wants to check things out.”

“You’d best get going then,” Firepaw reminded him.

“The WindClan hunting grounds aren’t too far from here. There’s plenty of time,” answered Graypaw confidently. “And I suppose I should help out after losing you that vole.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Firepaw mewed. “I’ll find another. It’s such a warm day, there should be quite a few out and about.”

“True. But you still have to catch them.” Graypaw nibbled at a front claw, stripping off a piece of the outer sheath thoughtfully. “You know, that could take you until way past sunhigh, maybe even until sunset.”

Firepaw nodded without enthusiasm as his belly gave a rumble. He would probably have to make three or four hunting trips before he had caught enough prey. Silverpelt would be in the sky before he got a chance to eat.

Graypaw stroked his whiskers. “Come on; I’ll help you get started. I owe you that, at least. We should be able to catch a couple of voles before I have to get going.”

Firepaw followed Graypaw upstream, glad of the company and the help. The fox-stench was still in the air, but suddenly it smelled stronger.

Firepaw paused. “Can you smell that?” he asked.

Graypaw stopped and sniffed the air too. “Fox. Yeah, I smelled it earlier.”

“Doesn’t it smell fresher to you now, though?” Firepaw asked.

Graypaw sniffed again, opening his mouth slightly. “You’re right,” he murmured, lowering his voice. He swiveled his head to look across the stream at the bushes in the woods beyond. “Look!” he whispered.

Firepaw looked. He saw something red and thick-haired moving among the bushes. It stepped into a clearing in the undergrowth and Firepaw saw a low body, glinting red in the dappled sunlight. Its tail was heavily furred and it had a long, narrow snout.

“So that’s a fox?” Firepaw whispered. “What an ugly muzzle!”

“You can say that again!” agreed Graypaw.

“I was following one of those when we first…met,” whispered Firepaw.