River Of Fire

She staggered to her paws and wanted to shake the water out of her pelt, but she realized in time that if she did that she would shower the WindClan patrol. And I don’t suppose they’d be pleased with me, she thought, frustrated at having to put up with her wet pelt.

“Your clumsiness cost us prey,” Emberfoot hissed. “We were stalking a pigeon, but when you made all that noise falling in, it flew away.”

I’ll try to fall in quietly next time, Twigpaw thought, but all she dared to say aloud was “Sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ fills no bellies,” Featherpelt snapped. “And what are two apprentices doing out here anyway, so far from camp and without your mentors?”

Twigpaw glanced across the stream to see Finpaw standing there, his eyes huge and worried. She wished he had hidden himself in the undergrowth, so that he wouldn’t be in trouble too.

At first she wasn’t sure how to answer Featherpelt’s question. She wasn’t sure if she ought to admit that she and Finpaw were hunting, but also she didn’t want to suggest that ThunderClan mentors were so careless that apprentices could just wander off without them knowing. It makes ThunderClan look so bad. . . . It’s not the way for me to earn my warrior name.

“Uh, we . . . we just went out for a bit and got distracted,” she stammered at last.

Even while she spoke, she felt a stab of fury at looking like a dumb apprentice in the hope that the WindClan cats would let them go.

But at least her tactic seemed to work. Featherpelt’s claws slid back, and her fur smoothed out. Emberfoot and Smokepaw both took a pace back, though they kept a wary gaze on Twigpaw.

“In that case,” Featherpelt meowed, “we’ll escort you back to the ThunderClan camp. Just to make sure that you don’t get distracted again.”

“There’s no need!” Twigpaw protested, thoroughly alarmed. “We’ll go straight back, I promise.”

“No, I think your Clan leader needs to know what you’ve been up to,” Featherpelt responded with a dismissive wave of her tail. “Emberfoot, you come with me. Smokepaw, go back to camp and tell Harestar what happened. Meet me back here, and we’ll carry on hunting.”

The apprentice dashed off through the trees, while Featherpelt and Emberfoot padded farther upstream to a place where the stream was narrow enough to leap across. Twigpaw was forced to go with them.

Anger and shame burned through her as she and Finpaw made their way back through the forest, firmly escorted by the two WindClan warriors.

What will Bramblestar say to us? she asked herself. And Sparkpelt? Oh, great StarClan, could this be any worse? She was frustrated, too, that she had no chance to pick up the prey she had caught earlier. It’ll be crow-food by the time I can go back for it!

Thornclaw was still on guard when Twigpaw and the others arrived back at the stone hollow. He leaped to his paws as he saw the WindClan cats. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, sliding out his claws.

Featherpelt dipped her head politely, not reacting to his challenging tone or the hostile stares of the other ThunderClan cats who began to gather around. “We would like to speak to your Clan leader, please,” she mewed.

Berrynose immediately broke away from the crowd and raced across the camp to the tumbled rocks. Thornclaw waved his tail, allowing the WindClan cats to advance a few paces farther into the camp, while the rest of the Clan waited in a ragged circle around them.

Now that she was standing still, Twigpaw could feel the cold seeping into her wet pelt, and she started to shiver. She hoped none of the other cats thought it was because she was scared. Finpaw brushed his pelt against hers and murmured into her ear, “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Twigpaw wished she could share his boundless optimism.

She felt as if she had been waiting for moons before Bramblestar thrust his way through the cluster of cats and stood in front of her. “What’s going on?” he asked the WindClan cats. “Why are you here?”

“We brought these apprentices back,” Featherpelt explained, dipping her head respectfully. “This one,” she added, angling her ears toward Twigpaw, “fell into the border stream and pulled herself out on our side. I know she didn’t mean to trespass, but she cost us a catch.”

“It was an accident,” Twigpaw defended herself as Bramblestar turned his amber gaze on her.

“I know that,” Featherpelt meowed, “but she could have got herself into serious trouble. Some of our warriors might not have been as lenient as Emberfoot and I. Or suppose she had strayed onto RiverClan territory. . . .”