Into The Wild

“What they said,” replied Ravenpaw. “Listen.”

“And don’t say too much,” Graypaw added.

Firepaw nodded gravely. “I’m going to see where Tigerclaw went,” he mewed.

“Well, I’m going to find Lionheart,” mewed Graypaw. “You coming, Ravenpaw?”

“No, thanks,” Ravenpaw replied. “I’m going to find some of the other apprentices.”

“Okay, we’ll meet up later,” mewed Firepaw, and he trotted in the direction Tigerclaw had taken.

He scented Tigerclaw easily and found him sitting at the center of a group of huge warriors, behind the Great Rock. Tigerclaw was speaking.

It was a tale Firepaw had heard many times at camp. Tigerclaw was describing his recent battle against the RiverClan hunting party. “I wrestled like a LionClan cat. Three warriors tried to hold me but I threw them off. I fought them until two lay knocked out and the other had run off into the forest like a kit crying for its mother.”

This time Tigerclaw didn’t mention killing Oakheart in vengeance for Redtail’s death. Perhaps it’s so he doesn’t offend the RiverClan warriors, Firepaw decided.

Firepaw listened politely to the end of the story, but a familiar scent was distracting him. As soon as Tigerclaw had finished speaking, Firepaw turned and crept away toward the sweet smell, which was coming from a group of cats nearby.

He found Graypaw sitting among these cats, but that was not the scent he had been following. Sitting opposite Graypaw, between two RiverClan toms, was Spottedleaf. Firepaw glanced at her shyly and settled himself beside his friend.

“Still no scent of WindClan,” he mewed to Graypaw.

“The meeting hasn’t begun yet; they may still come,” replied his friend. “Look, there’s Runningnose. He’s the new ShadowClan medicine cat, apparently.” He nodded toward a small gray-and-white cat at the center of the group.

“I can see why they call him Runningnose,” Firepaw remarked. The medicine cat’s nose was wet at the tip and encrusted around the edges.

“Yep,” replied Graypaw with a scornful growl. “I can’t see why they appointed him when he can’t even cure his own cold!”

Runningnose was telling the cats about a herb that medicine cats had used in the old days to cure kitten-cough. “Since the Twolegs came and filled the place with hard earth and strange flowers,” he complained in a high-pitched yowl, “the herb has disappeared, and kittens die needlessly in cold weather.”

The cats gathered around him yowled their disapproval.

“It never would have happened in the time of the great Clan cats,” growled a black RiverClan queen.

“Indeed,” mewled a silver tabby. “The great cats would have killed any Twolegs that dared enter their territory. If TigerClan roamed this forest still, Twolegs would not have built this far into our land.”

Then Firepaw heard Spottedleaf’s quiet mew. “If TigerClan still roamed these forests, we would hardly have made our territory here, either.”

“What’s TigerClan?” mewed a small voice beside them. Firepaw noticed a little tabby apprentice from one of the other Clans sitting beside him.

“TigerClan is one of the great cat Clans that used to roam the forest,” Graypaw explained quietly. “TigerClan is cats of the night, big as horses, with jet-black stripes. Then there is LionClan. They’re…” Graypaw hesitated, frowning as he tried to remember.

“Oh! I’ve heard of them,” mewed the tabby. “They were as big as TigerClan cats, with yellow fur and golden manes like rays of the sun.”

Graypaw nodded. “And then there is the other one, SpottyClan or something like that…”

“I suspect you’re thinking of LeopardClan, young Graypaw,” meowed a voice from behind them.

“Lionheart!” Graypaw greeted his mentor with an affectionate touch of his nose.

Lionheart shook his head in mock despair. “Don’t you youngsters know your history? LeopardClan are the swiftest cats, huge and golden, spotted with black pawprints. You can thank LeopardClan for the speed and hunting skills you now possess.”

“Thank them? Why?” asked the tabby.

Lionheart gazed down at the little apprentice and answered, “There is a trace of all the great cats in every cat today. We would not be night hunters without our TigerClan ancestors, and our love of the sun’s warmth comes from LionClan.” He paused. “You are a ShadowClan apprentice, aren’t you? How many moons are you?”

The tabby stared awkwardly down at the ground. “S-six moons,” he stammered, not meeting Lionheart’s eye.

“Rather small for six moons,” Lionheart murmured. His tone was gentle, but his gaze was searching and serious.

“My mother was small too,” answered the tabby nervously. He bowed his head and backed away, disappearing into the crowd of cats with a twitch of his light brown tail.

Lionheart turned to Firepaw and Graypaw. “Well, he might be small, but at least he was curious. If only you two showed as much interest in the stories your elders tell!”

“Sorry, Lionheart,” Firepaw and Graypaw mewed, exchanging doubtful glances.