Into the Wild (Warriors, #1)

by Erin Hunter

The dark tabby glared down at Oakheart. “You may swim like otters, but you and your warriors do not belong in this forest!”

“ThunderClan will honor your courage, Tigerclaw, but we cannot afford to lose any more of our warriors,” Redtail urged. “Bluestar would never expect her warriors to fight against these impossible odds. We will have another chance to avenge this defeat.”

For a heartbeat, the RiverClan cats looked confused. Was this battle so easily won?

“These are difficult times for our Clan. The season of newleaf is late, and there have been fewer kits. ThunderClan needs more warriors if it is to survive.”

“What’s a kittypet like you doing out in the woods? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?” asked Graypaw. “If you’re the most dangerous thing the woods has to offer, then I think I can handle it,” Rusty bluffed.

“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.”

“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 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.

“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.”

“There’s never enough to go around,” she spat. “If you didn’t live such a soft, overfed life, you would know that!”

You must either live with us and respect our ways, or return to your Twolegplace and never come back. You cannot live with a paw in each world.”

“You haven’t yet been taken by the Twolegs to see the Cutter,” meowed Bluestar gravely. “You would be very different then. Not quite so keen to fight a Clan cat, I suspect!”

Rusty’s head reeled. Bluestar seemed to be offering him the life he had lived so many times, and so tantalizingly, in his dreams, but could he live like that for real?

Lionheart bent down and hissed into Rusty’s ear, “That tabby is Longtail. He smells your fear. They all do. You must prove to him and the other cats that your fear won’t hold you back.”

“Your collar is a mark of the Twolegs, and that noisy jingling will make you a poor hunter at best. At worst, it will bring the Twolegs into our territory, looking for the poor lost kittypet who fills the woods with his pitiful tinkling.”

“You look like a brand of fire in this sunlight,” she murmured. Her eyes flashed briefly, as if her words had more meaning for her than Rusty knew.

“Lucky your collar snapped when it did. Longtail is a young warrior, but I can’t imagine him being beaten by a kittypet!”

The big tabby stiffened, and seemed about to speak when Spottedleaf mewed teasingly, “Even you know better than to argue with a medicine cat, Tigerclaw.” Tigerclaw’s eyes flashed at the little tortoiseshell’s words. “I wouldn’t dare argue with you, dear Spottedleaf,” he purred.

Firepaw sat up very straight, anxious to impress this distinguished Clan warrior. “That’s right,” he mewed respectfully. Tigerclaw eyed him thoughtfully. “Then I shall watch your progress with interest.”

“She’ll not be happy to be appointing a new deputy,” Smallear observed. “Redtail served her long and well. But she’ll need to make up her mind quickly. According to Clan custom, the choice has to be made before moonhigh after the death of the old deputy.” “At least this time the choice is obvious,” meowed Halftail.

“For now, Tigerclaw and I will share your training.” Firepaw nodded enthusiastically, his tail held high, unable to disguise his delight at having two such great warriors as his mentors.

“But that seems foolish! Why can’t the Clans work together and share their hunting grounds, instead of fighting each other?” Firepaw suggested boldly. A shocked silence greeted his words.

Tonight, in fact. The Gatherings are very important because they allow the Clans to come together in peace for one night. But you must understand that longer alliances bring more trouble than they’re worth.”

He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy that Dustpaw and Sandpaw were actually going to meet the other Clans tonight.

Tigerclaw whipped his head around and glared at Firepaw. “Injuries are a fact of life. He should be able to adapt. Even you, Firepaw, have learned something this morning. If Ravenpaw picked up things as quickly as you, he’d be a credit to me instead of an embarrassment. Imagine being shown up by a kittypet!”

He had made his first kill. He was a true ThunderClan apprentice now.

He remembered the words repeated by Lionheart and Tigerclaw time and time again: “The Clan must be fed first.”

Firepaw leaped after him and pinned him to the ground. “‘Surprise is the warrior’s greatest weapon,’” he crowed, quoting one of Lionheart’s favorite phrases.

“Me too. But I’ve got to hunt for the Clan before I can hunt for myself.” “I bet Dustpaw and Sandpaw used to swallow a shrew or two when they were on hunting duty,” snorted Graypaw. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, but this is my first solo assignment. . . . ” “And you want to do it right; I know.” Graypaw sighed.

“Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat. We must warn the queens that one has strayed into our territory. Foxes are as bad as badgers when it comes to killing young kits.

How do you think old Halftail earned his name? He hasn’t been able to climb a tree since a badger bit his tail off!”

The stranger was a she-cat, not young and definitely not from ThunderClan. She carried no distinct scent from any of the Clans, but Firepaw could tell she was tired, hungry, and sick, and she was in an ugly mood.

“Enough talk,” Firepaw spat, feeling the stir of ancient cat spirits deep inside him. There was no trace of the house cat in him now. His warrior blood was up. He was itching to fight, to defend his territory and protect his Clan.

Up close, the message of desperation and weakness, and the aching void of the she-cat’s hunger, was almost painful.

Firepaw hesitated. He’d never killed another cat before. Perhaps, in the heat of battle, he would, but a mercy killing, in cold blood? This was something very different.

“Ha,” she snorted. “Don’t tell me ThunderClan is so desperate they have to recruit kittypets now?”

Her words were brave, but Firepaw could smell the hunger and sickness that were coming off the other cat in waves. She was going to die anyway if she didn’t eat soon. And since she could hardly hunt for herself, perhaps he should kill her now. The two cats looked at each other, uncertainty in both their gazes.

Before he could speak there was a loud hiss from Tigerclaw. “Once a kittypet, always a kittypet!”

Firepaw saw that Yellowfang’s eyes were glazed with pain, but she seemed determined not to show any weakness. He noticed a look of respect flicker across Bluestar’s face before the ThunderClan leader turned and slowly led the way through the trees.

Graypaw glanced at him. “A loner is a cat that isn’t part of a Clan or cared for by Twolegs. Tigerclaw says they are untrustworthy and selfish. They often live around Twoleg dwellings, but belong to no one and catch their own food.”

“One young cat has been sharing mentors with Graypaw and Ravenpaw. By teaching him, I shall speed up the training of all three apprentices.” She paused and looked down at her Clan. “I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.”

“Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he sneered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”

“Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!”

Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!”

Tigerclaw was sitting outside the warriors’ den, watching him closely. As Firepaw trotted over to Yellowfang, carrying the herbs, he could feel the amber-eyed stare burning the fur on the back of his neck. He turned his head and looked at Tigerclaw curiously. The warrior narrowed his eyes and looked away.

“I don’t care how restless they are,” growled Yellowfang. “Just keep them away from me!”

Bluestar looked at him for a long moment. “Do you miss your old life, Firepaw?” she asked. “Think carefully, now.” “No.” How can Bluestar think that? Firepaw wondered. His head was spinning. What was Bluestar trying to make him say?

“I need more than that, Firepaw. I need to be able to trust in your loyalty to ThunderClan, especially now that it looks like ShadowClan is planning an attack. We don’t have room for anyone who isn’t sure whether their heart lies in the past or the present.”

“But there is something about her that I don’t trust,” Bluestar went on quietly. “She will stay with ThunderClan for now, but remain as a prisoner. The queens will care for her. You must concentrate on your training.”

“Firepaw, although you showed bad judgment today in talking to a house cat, Tigerclaw was impressed by your hunting skills. In fact, he reported that you all did well. I am pleased with your progress. You will come to the Gathering—all three of you.”