Path Of A Warrior

Redtail shifted uneasily, the earth of Bluestar’s den suddenly feeling chilly beneath his paws. If we fight RiverClan now, our warriors will die.

“But not yet,” he put in. “We don’t have enough warriors to win this battle. ThunderClan needs every warrior it has if we are to survive.”

Tigerclaw hissed softly. “Just what I’d expect you to say,” he muttered, almost too quietly for Redtail to hear. “You’ll always back down from a fight.”

“What did you say?” Redtail asked, feeling the fur along his spine rise angrily. It had been a long time since Tigerclaw could intimidate him, and he wasn’t going to tolerate any half-veiled hostility from the other cat. Whatever Tigerclaw thought of him, he was still ThunderClan’s deputy.

“We’ll keep the peace inside our own Clan,” Bluestar mewed warningly.

Tigerclaw dipped his head submissively. “I said nothing,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve given wise counsel as usual, Redtail.”

Redtail tensed. He didn’t trust that submissive tone. What is Tigerclaw up to now?

Redtail glanced up at the clear early evening sky. There was still enough time for one last hunting patrol before ThunderClan gathered for the night. Prey had been running well lately, and his Clanmates should fill their bellies while they could.

“Lionheart,” he called. “Take Whitestorm and Graypaw out for a hunt.”

The big golden tom gave a yowl of agreement. “I scented a mouse nest down near the Twolegplace,” he mewed amiably. “We’ll bring back something juicy for the fresh-kill pile.”

Redtail watched them go, the shaggy gray apprentice bouncing eagerly along at his mentor’s side. Redtail’s own apprentice, Dustpaw, was busily cleaning the elders’ den with Sandpaw and Ravenpaw, pulling dried moss and musty leaves out of the den and piling them neatly to one side. The elders watched nearby, lounging in the last of the day’s sunshine.

“Don’t forget to make my nest especially soft,” One-eye—formerly known as White-eye, before she had finally lost her blind eye and moved to the elders’ den—called, her joking mew overly loud because of her own poor hearing. Sandpaw flicked her tail at the elder in amused acknowledgment.

Both of Redtail’s littermates were in the clearing. Spottedleaf was pulling a thorn from Darkstripe’s tail. The black-and-gray tom winced, but her movements were quick and sure. Willowpelt was sharing a vole with Mousefur, the two she-cats chatting quietly. Other warriors shared tongues, or dozed, while Frostfur’s and Goldenflower’s kits chased through the camp, tumbling over one another, their mothers watching them protectively from the mouth of the nursery.

ThunderClan’s camp was peaceful tonight, and Redtail, his mind already busy with thoughts of the next morning’s border patrol, turned toward the Highrock to make his day’s report to Bluestar.

As he approached the leader’s den, Redtail’s steps slowed. He could hear Tigerclaw’s voice. Why was the other cat meeting with Bluestar without him?

“We have to strike now,” the massive tom was hissing. “We have to reclaim Sunningrocks and make it clear that ThunderClan won’t tolerate any cat trespassing on our territory.”

Bluestar’s meow was thoughtful. “I understand why you want to attack RiverClan. But I think Redtail is right,” she mewed. “Without more warriors, there’s no way we can beat RiverClan in open battle.”

Tigerclaw’s voice turned coaxing, and Redtail’s pelt prickled uncomfortably. Was Tigerclaw going behind his back now? “We can’t just do nothing, though,” he insisted. “Every Clan will turn on us if they think we’re weak. Let me at least mark Sunningrocks now, to show RiverClan we’re not giving our territory up.”

Bluestar hesitated, and Redtail listened hard, his ears pricking forward. Did she believe that was all Tigerclaw was planning? Redtail hadn’t forgotten how eager Tigerclaw was to fight. But Bluestar trusted Tigerclaw much more than Redtail did.

“All right,” their leader meowed at last. “Take a small patrol and mark Sunningrocks at dawn. See if they’ve left fresh scent markers there, and if they have, destroy them. You’re right that we need to claim our land again. But that’s all I want you to do, Tigerclaw. Don’t go looking for a fight.”

Redtail groaned to himself, picturing the smug glow in the other tom’s amber eyes. What Tigerclaw had said sounded reasonable, but Redtail didn’t trust that he was really planning only to mark ThunderClan’s borders.

Before Redtail could turn away, Tigerclaw pushed his way out past the lichen that hung over the entrance to Bluestar’s den. He stopped when he saw Redtail, and Redtail felt hot beneath his fur, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping.