Into The Wild

“Why? Did you think I was?” Graypaw purred proudly; then he shook his wide, furry head. “I won’t be a real warrior for ages. I have to go through the training first. Kits have to be six moons old before they even begin training. Tonight is my first night out as an apprentice.”

“Why don’t you find yourself an owner with a nice cozy house instead? Your life would be much easier,” Rusty meowed. “There are plenty of housefolk who’d take in a kitten like you. All you have to do is sit where they can see you and look hungry for a couple of days-”

“And they’d feed me pellets that look like rabbit droppings and soft slop!” Graypaw interrupted. “No way! I can’t think of anything worse than being a kittypet! They’re nothing but Twoleg toys! Eating stuff that doesn’t look like food, making dirt in a box of gravel, sticking their noses outside only when the Twolegs allow them? That’s no life! Out here it’s wild, and it’s free. We come and go as we please.” He finished his speech with a proud spit, then meowed mischievously, “Until you’ve tasted a fresh-killed mouse, you haven’t lived. Have you ever tasted mouse?”

“No,” Rusty admitted, a little defensively. “Not yet.”

“I guess you’ll never understand.” Graypaw sighed. “You weren’t born wild. It makes a big difference. You need to be born with warrior blood in your veins, or the feel of the wind in your whiskers. Kitties born into Twoleg nests could never feel the same way.”

Rusty remembered the way he had felt in his dream. “That’s not true!” he mewed indignantly.

Graypaw did not reply. He suddenly stiffened midlick, one paw still raised, and sniffed the air. “I smell cats from my Clan,” he hissed. “You should go. They won’t be pleased to find you hunting in our territory!”

Rusty looked around, wondering how Graypaw knew any cat was approaching. He couldn’t smell anything different on the leaf-scented breeze. But his fur stood on end at the note of urgency in Graypaw’s voice.

“Quick!” hissed Graypaw again. “Run!”

Rusty prepared to spring into the bushes, not knowing which way was safe to jump.

He was too late. A voice meowed behind him, firm and menacing. “What’s going on here?”

Rusty turned to see a large gray she-cat strolling majestically out from the undergrowth. She was magnificent. White hairs streaked her muzzle, and an ugly scar parted the fur across her shoulders, but her smooth gray coat shone like silver in the moonlight.

“Bluestar!” Beside Rusty, Graypaw crouched down and narrowed his eyes. He crouched even lower when a second cat-a handsome, golden tabby-followed the gray cat into the clearing.

“You shouldn’t be so near Twolegplace, Graypaw!” growled the golden tabby angrily, narrowing his green eyes.

“I know, Lionheart, I’m sorry.” Graypaw looked down at his paws.

Rusty copied Graypaw and crouched low to the forest floor, his ears twitching nervously. These cats had an air of strength he had never seen in any of his garden friends. Maybe what Smudge had warned him about was true.

“Who is this?” asked the she-cat.

Rusty flinched as she turned her gaze on him. Her piercing blue eyes made him feel even more vulnerable.

“He’s no threat,” mewed Graypaw quickly. “He’s not another Clan warrior, just a Twoleg pet from beyond our territories.”

Just a Twoleg pet! The words inflamed Rusty, but he held his tongue. The warning look in Bluestar’s stare told him that she had observed the anger in his eyes, and he looked away.

“This is Bluestar; she’s leader of my Clan!” Graypaw hissed to Rusty under his breath. “And Lionheart. He’s my mentor, which means he’s training me to be a warrior.”

“Thank you for the introduction, Graypaw,” meowed Lionheart coolly.

Bluestar was still staring at Rusty. “You fight well for a Twoleg pet,” she meowed.

Rusty and Graypaw exchanged confused glances. How could she know?

“We have been watching you both,” Bluestar went on, as if she had read their thoughts. “We wondered how you would deal with an intruder, Graypaw. You attacked him bravely.”

Graypaw looked pleased at Bluestar’s praise.

“Sit up now, both of you!” Bluestar looked at Rusty. “You too, kittypet.” He sat up immediately and held Bluestar’s gaze evenly as she addressed him.

“You reacted well to the attack, kittypet. Graypaw is stronger than you, but you used your wits to defend yourself. And you turned to face him when he chased you. I’ve not seen a kittypet do that before.”

Rusty managed to nod his thanks, taken aback by such unexpected praise. Her next words surprised him even more.

“I have been wondering how you would perform out here, beyond the Twolegplace. We patrol this border frequently, so I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, staring out into the forest. And now, at last, you have dared to place your paws here.” Bluestar stared at Rusty thoughtfully. “You do seem to have a natural hunting ability. Sharp eyes. You would have caught that mouse if you had not hesitated so long.”

“R-really?” Rusty stammered.