Into The Wild

Firepaw had not been to this place since his first journey with Lionheart and Tigerclaw. The steep-sided glade looked different now. The rich greenness of the woods had been bleached away by the cold light of the full moon, and the leaves on the trees glowed silver. At the bottom stood the large oaks that marked where the corner of each Clan’s territory touched the other three.

The air was thick with the warm scents of cats from the other Clans. Firepaw could see them quite clearly in the moonlight, moving about below in the grassy clearing that lay between the four oaks. In the center of the clearing, a large, jagged rock rose from the forest floor like a broken tooth.

“Look at all those cats down there!” hissed Ravenpaw under his breath.

“There’s Crookedstar!” Graypaw hissed back. “RiverClan’s leader.”

“Where?” Firepaw mewed, nudging Graypaw impatiently.

“That light-colored tabby, beside the Great Rock.”

Firepaw followed Graypaw’s nod and saw a huge tom, even bigger than Lionheart, sitting at the center of the clearing. His striped coat shone pale in the moonlight. Even from this distance, his old face showed the signs of a harsh life, and his mouth looked twisted, as if it had once been broken and had healed badly.

“Hey!” mewed Graypaw. “Did you see Sandpaw spit when I told her I hoped she had a nice evening at home?”

“You bet!” Firepaw purred.

Ravenpaw interrupted them with a muffled growl. “Look! There’s Brokenstar-ShadowClan’s leader,” he hissed.

Firepaw looked down at the dark brown tabby. His fur was unusually long and his face was broad and flattened. There was a stillness in the way he sat and stared around him that made Firepaw’s fur prickle uncomfortably.

“He looks pretty nasty,” Firepaw muttered.

“Yeah,” agreed Graypaw. “He’s certainly got a reputation among all the Clans for not suffering fools gladly. And he’s not been leader that long-four moons, ever since his father, Raggedstar, died.”

“What does the leader of WindClan look like?” Firepaw asked.

“Tallstar? I’ve never seen him, but I know he’s black and white with a very long tail,” answered Graypaw.

“Can you see him now?” asked Ravenpaw.

Graypaw peered down, searching the crowd of cats below. “Nope!”

“Can you scent any WindClan cats?” Firepaw asked.

Graypaw shook his head. “No.”

Lionheart’s meow sounded softly beside them. “The WindClan cats may just be late.”

“But what if they don’t turn up at all?” mewed Graypaw.

“Hush! We must all be patient. These are difficult times. Now keep quiet. Bluestar will give the signal to move soon,” Lionheart meowed quietly.

As he spoke, Bluestar stood, and, holding her tail high, flicked it from one side to the other. Firepaw’s heart missed a beat as the ThunderClan cats rose as one and bounded through the bushes, down toward the meeting place. He raced alongside them, feeling the wind rush in his ears and his paws tingle with anticipation.

The ThunderClan cats paused instinctively on the edge of the clearing, outside the boundary of the oaks. Bluestar sniffed the air. Then she nodded and the troop moved forward into the clearing.

Firepaw felt thrilled. The other cats looked even more impressive close up, milling about the Great Rock. A large white warrior strode past. Firepaw and Ravenpaw looked at him in awe.

“Look at his paws!” Ravenpaw murmured.

Firepaw looked down and realized the huge paws of this great tom were jet black.

“It must be Blackfoot,” mewed Grewpaw. “ShadowClan’s new deputy.”

Blackfoot stalked over to Brokenstar and sat down beside him. The ShadowClan leader acknowledged him with a twitch of one ear, but said nothing.

“When does the meeting begin?” Ravenpaw asked Whitestorm.

“Be patient, Ravenpaw,” he answered. “The sky is clear tonight, so we have plenty of time.”

Lionheart leaned over and added, “We warriors like to spend a little time boasting about our victories, while the elders swap tales about the ancient days before the Twolegs came here.” All three apprentices looked up at him and saw his whiskers twitch mischievously.

Dappletail, One-eye, and Smallear headed straight off toward a group of elderly cats who were settling themselves below one of the oak trees. Whitestorm and Lionheart strolled over to another pair of warriors whom Firepaw did not know. He sniffed the air and recognized their scent as RiverClan.

Bluestar’s voice sounded behind the three apprentices. “Don’t waste any of your time tonight,” she warned. “This is a good opportunity to meet your enemies. Listen to them; remember what they look like and how they behave. There is a great deal to be learned from these meetings.”

“And say little,” warned Tigerclaw. “Don’t give anything away that might be used against us once the moon has waned.”

“Don’t worry; we won’t!” Firepaw promised hastily, looking into Tigerclaw’s eyes. The feeling that Tigerclaw didn’t trust his loyalty lingered with him still.

The two warriors nodded and moved on, and the apprentices were left alone. They looked at each other.

“What do we do now?” Firepaw asked.