Into The Wild

“You may as well clear away my dirt now your paws are already foul!” she meowed when he had finished. “I’m going to take a nap.” She yawned, revealing her blackened and broken teeth. The warmth of the day was making her sleepy, too. “Then you can go and do whatever it is you apprentices do,” she murmured.

When Firepaw had cleared away Yellowfang’s dirt, he left her dozing and made his way to the gorse tunnel. He was keen to get to the stream and rinse his paws.

“Firepaw!” a voice called from the side of the clearing.

Firepaw turned. It was Halftail.

“Where are you off to?” meowed the old cat curiously. “You ought to be helping with the preparations.”

“I’ve just been putting mouse bile on Yellowfang’s ticks,” replied Firepaw.

Amusement flickered through Halftail’s whiskers. “So now you’re off to the nearest stream! Well, don’t come back without fresh-kill. We need as much as we can find.”

“Yes, Halftail,” Firepaw replied.

He made his way out of the camp and up the side of the ravine. He trotted down to the stream where he and Graypaw had hunted on the day he had found Yellowfang. Without hesitating he jumped down into the cold, clear water. It came up to his haunches, and wet his belly fur. The shock made him gasp, and he shivered.

A rustle in the bushes above him made him look up, although the familiar scent that reached his nose told him there was nothing to be alarmed about.

“What are you doing in there?” Graypaw and Ravenpaw were standing looking at him as if he were mad.

“Mouse bile.” Firepaw grimaced. “Don’t ask! Where are Lionheart and Tigerclaw?”

“They’ve gone to join the next patrol,” answered Graypaw. “They ordered us to spend the rest of the afternoon hunting.”

“Halftail told me the same thing,” Firepaw mewed, flinching as a chilly current of water rushed around his paws. “Everyone’s busy back at camp. You’d think we were about to be attacked at any moment.” He climbed up onto the bank, dripping.

“Who says we won’t be?” mewed Ravenpaw, his eyes flicking from side to side as if he expected an enemy patrol to leap out of the bushes at any time.

Firepaw looked at the heap of fresh-kill that was piled beside the two apprentices. “Looks like you’ve done all right today,” he mewed.

“Yeah,” mewed Graypaw proudly. “And we’ve still got the rest of the afternoon to hunt. Do you want to join us?”

“You bet!” Firepaw purred. He gave himself a final shake, then bounded into the undergrowth after his friends.

Firepaw could tell that the cats back at camp were impressed with the amount of prey the three apprentices had managed to catch during their afternoon hunt. They were welcomed back with high tails and friendly nuzzles. It took them four journeys to carry their bumper catch to the storage hole the elders had dug.

Lionheart and Tigerclaw had just returned with their patrol as Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw carried their last load into the camp.

“Well done, you three,” meowed Lionheart. “I hear you’ve been busy. The store is almost full. You might as well add that last lot to the pile of fresh-kill for tonight. And take some of it back to your den with you. You deserve a feast!”

The three apprentices flicked their tails with delight.

“I hope you’ve not been neglecting Yellowfang with all this hunting, Firepaw,” Tigerclaw growled warningly.

Firepaw shook his head impatiently, eager to get away. He was starving. He had obeyed the warrior code this time and not eaten a morsel while he was hunting for the Clan. Nor had Graypaw or Ravenpaw.

They trotted away and dropped the last of their catch on the fresh-kill that already lay at the center of the clearing. Then each of them took a piece and carried it back to their tree stump. The den was empty.

“Where are Dustpaw and Sandpaw?” asked Ravenpaw.

“They must still be out on patrol,” Firepaw guessed.

“Good,” meowed Graypaw. “Peace and quiet.”

They ate their fill and lay back to wash. The cool evening air was welcome after the heat of the day.

“Hey! Guess what!” mewed Graypaw suddenly. “Ravenpaw managed to squeeze a compliment out of old Tigerclaw this morning!”

“Really?” Firepaw gasped. “What on earth did you do to please Tigerclaw-fly?”

“Well,” Ravenpaw began shyly, looking at his paws, “I caught a crow.”

“How’d you manage that?” Firepaw mewed, impressed.

“It was an old one,” Ravenpaw admitted modestly.

“But it was huge,” added Graypaw. “Even Tigerclaw couldn’t find fault with that! He’s been in such a bad mood since Bluestar took you on as her apprentice.” He licked his paw thoughtfully for a moment. “Hang on, make that since Lionheart was made deputy.”

“He’s just worried about ShadowClan, and the extra patrols,” mewed Ravenpaw, hastily. “You should try not to annoy him.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud yowl from the other side of the clearing.

“Oh, no.” Firepaw groaned, getting to his paws. “I forgot to take Yellowfang her share!”

“You wait here,” mewed Graypaw, leaping up. “I’ll take her something.”

“No, I’d better go,” Firepaw protested. “This is my punishment, not yours.”