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“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.”
“Are you asking StarClan for answers?” meowed Spottedleaf gently, following Bluestar’s gaze and staring up at the swath of stars glittering in the dark sky. “It is at times like this we need the words of ancient warriors to help us. Has StarClan spoken to you?” Bluestar asked.
The ThunderClan leader fixed her clear blue eyes on the medicine cat. “You have never been wrong before, Spottedleaf,” she meowed. “If StarClan has spoken, then it must be so. Fire will save our Clan.”
Rusty looked around, and as he did so, the mouse was able to pull away from his claws. When Rusty turned back he saw it dart into the darkness among the tangled roots of a tree.
This is why you don't play with your food, Rusty.
His collar rubbed uncomfortably around his neck. In his dream he had felt fresh air ruffling the soft fur where the collar usually pinched.
Okay I see I will not be trying to collar my own cat again T_T
It was the third time since full moon that he’d had the dream, and every time the mouse had escaped his grasp.
From his bed he could smell the bland odor of his food. His owners always refilled his dish before they went to bed.
What? No pat-pats for Rusty? What is wrong with these stupid hoomans?
The food felt dry and tasteless on his tongue.
GIVE RUSTY WET FOOD YOU CHEAPSKATES
He made his dirt beneath a large bush with glossy green leaves and heavy purple flowers.
lol? No litterbox?
He heard his owners giving him one last call from the back door. If he went to them now, they would greet him with gentle words and caresses and welcome him onto their bed, where he would curl, purring, warm in the crook of a bent knee.
As he landed, the bell on his collar rang out through the still night air.
Never gonna catch any mice with that
“That fat old tabby never went into the woods!” Rusty scoffed. “He’s hardly been beyond his own garden since his trip to the vet. All he wants to do is eat and sleep.”
lol rude
“Well, if he did, then it was before the vet. Now he complains about birds because they disturb his dozing.”
Did somebody get neutered?
could see the white tip of a red bushy tail trailing through a clump of tall ferns up ahead. He smelled a strong, strange scent, definitely a meat-eater, but neither cat nor dog.
Oh no.
He skidded to a stop, spun around, and faced his pursuer. It was another kitten, with a thick coat of shaggy gray fur, strong legs, and a broad face.
lol so much for that fox
“Hi there, kittypet!” meowed the gray tom cheerily. “You put up quite a fight for a tame kitty!”
“I’m Graypaw, by the way,” the gray kitten went on, ignoring Rusty’s threat. “I’m training to be a ThunderClan warrior.”
He hid his confusion by leaning down to lick his ruffled chest.
Typical
“You must have heard of the four warrior Clans that hunt around here! I belong to ThunderClan. The other Clans are always trying to steal prey from our territory, especially ShadowClan. They’re so fierce they would have ripped you to shreds, no questions asked.”
“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—”
Bluestar had turned her head to acknowledge Lionheart’s words. Now her gaze snapped back to Rusty. Her blue eyes were blazing with anger. “There’s never enough to go around,” she spat. “If you didn’t live such a soft, overfed life, you would know that!”
“You threaten our Clan when you take our food,” yowled Bluestar. “You have plenty of food in your Twoleg nest already. You come here only to hunt for sport. But we hunt to survive.”
“Our territory covers only part of the forest,” answered Bluestar. “We compete with other Clans for what we have. And this year, late newleaf means prey is scarce.”
“Understand that Bluestar does not make this offer lightly,” warned Lionheart. “If you wish to train with us, we will have to take you into our Clan. 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.”
“I can tell that you are still a tom,” Bluestar added, “despite the Twoleg stench that clings to your fur.” “What do you mean—still a tom?” “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!”
And as Rusty turned and headed for home, he felt a strange sensation inside him, tugging him back into the depths of the forest. His fur prickled deliciously in the light wind, and the rustling leaves seemed to whisper his name into the shadows.
Rusty looked at Smudge. His black-and-white friend had never shown any interest in venturing into the woods. He was perfectly content living with his housefolk. He would never understand the restless longing that Rusty’s dreams stirred in him night after night. “But I do trust them,” Rusty purred softly. “And I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to join them.”
deep gullies churned up by a Twoleg tree-eater.
“Just after sunhigh, when the day is hottest, is a time for sharing tongues,” Lionheart explained. “Sharing tongues?” Rusty echoed. “Clan cats always spend time grooming each other and sharing the news of the day,” Whitestorm told him. “We call it sharing tongues. It is a custom that binds the members of the Clan together.”
“The care of our kits is shared by all of the queens,” meowed Lionheart. “All cats serve the Clan. Loyalty to the Clan is the first law in our warrior code, a lesson you must learn quickly if you wish to stay with us.”
“Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”
“Never before have we had so few apprentices in training. It has been decided that ThunderClan will take in an outsider to train as a warrior. . . . ” Rusty heard indignant mutterings erupt among the Clan cats, but Bluestar silenced them with a firm yowl.
“Lucky to become an apprentice,” caterwauled a loud voice above the ripple of shock that spread through the cats. Rusty craned his neck and saw a pale tabby cat standing up and glaring defiantly at the leader.
“Look at his collar! He’s a kittypet!” It was the pale tabby again. “Once a kittypet, always a kittypet. This Clan needs wildborn warriors to defend it, not another soft mouth to feed.”
“That tabby is Longtail.
Longtail was completely unprepared for Rusty’s attack.
Really? He couldn't hear that jingling kittypet collar coming?
Retching and gulping for air, he summoned up all his strength and tried to pull away from Longtail’s grip. And suddenly, with a loud snap, he was free.
And, dangling from Longtail’s mouth, Rusty saw his collar, mangled and broken.
Bluestar stepped forward and took the collar from Longtail. She placed it on the ground in front of her and meowed, “The newcomer has lost his Twoleg collar in a battle for his honor. StarClan has spoken its approval—this cat has been released from the hold of his Twoleg owners, and is free to join ThunderClan as an apprentice.”
Rusty lifted his head proudly and looked at the cats that surrounded him. This time no cat argued or jeered. He had shown himself to be a worthy opponent in battle.
“You look like a brand of fire in this sunlight,” she murmured.
Prologue: "Fire will save our clan."
“From this day forward, until he has earned his warrior name, this apprentice will be called Firepaw, in honor of his flame-colored coat.”
Without hesitating, Rusty turned and kicked dust and grass over his collar as though burying his dirt.
The sleek tom looked at Firepaw for a moment. “Lucky your collar snapped when it did. Longtail is a young warrior, but I can’t imagine him being beaten by a kittypet!” He spat the word kittypet scornfully, then turned and stalked off. “Now Darkstripe,” Graypaw hissed to Firepaw under his breath, “is neither young, nor pretty. . . . ”
Ooh meOW
“Ravenpaw’s an apprentice. Tigerclaw’s his mentor,” Graypaw explained quickly. “Ravenpaw went out with Tigerclaw and Redtail at sunrise on a mission against RiverClan, the lucky furball!”
“Redtail?” Firepaw echoed, thoroughly confused by all these names. “Bluestar’s deputy,” hissed Graypaw.
Same, Firepaw. Same.
Ravenpaw was still struggling for breath, and his sides heaved fitfully while the dust around him turned red with blood, but still he managed to scramble up onto the Highrock and stand beside Bluestar. He turned to the crowd of eager faces that surrounded him, and summoned enough breath to declare, “Redtail is dead!”
OH SHIT
“Oakheart!” Graypaw gasped beside Firepaw. “He is the deputy of RiverClan. He’s one of the greatest warriors in the forest. Lucky Ravenpaw! Wish it could have been me. I’d have really—”
GRAYPAW.
“He died with honor, struck down by Oakheart. I couldn’t save him, but I managed to take Oakheart’s life while he was still gloating over his victory.” Tigerclaw’s voice was strong and deep. “Redtail’s death was not in vain, for I doubt we’ll see RiverClan hunters in our territory again.”
“StarClan?” Firepaw echoed. “It’s the tribe of heavenly warriors that watches over all Clan cats. You can see them in Silverpelt.” Firepaw looked confused, so Graypaw explained. “Silverpelt is that thick band of stars you see each night stretching across the sky. Each star is a StarClan warrior. Redtail will be among them tonight.”
