CHAPTER 3

That morning, as Rusty slept off his night’s wanderings,

the mouse dream came again, even more vivid than

before. Free of his col ar, beneath the moon, he stalked the

timid creature. But this time he was aware of being

watched. Shining from the shadows of the forest he saw

dozens of yel ow eyes. The Clan cats had entered his

dream world.

Rusty woke, blinking in the bright sunshine that was

streaming across the kitchen floor. His fur felt heavy and

thick with warmth. His food bowl had been topped up, and

his water bowl rinsed out and fil ed with bitter-tasting

Twoleg water. Rusty preferred drinking from puddles

outside, but when it was hot, or he was very thirsty, he had

to admit it was easier to lap up the water indoors. Could he

real y abandon this comfortable life?

He ate, then pushed his way out of the cat flap into the

garden. The day promised to be warm, and the garden was

heavy with the smel of early blossoms.

“Hel o, Rusty! ” mewed a voice from the fence. It was

Smudge. “You should have been awake an hour ago. The

baby sparrows were out stretching their wings. ”

“Did you catch any? ” Rusty asked.

Smudge yawned and licked his nose. “Couldn’t be

bothered. I’d already eaten enough at home. Anyway, why

weren’t you out earlier? Yesterday you were complaining

about Henry sleeping his time away, and today you’re not

much better yourself. ”

Rusty sat down on the cool earth beside the fence and

curled his tail neatly over his front paws. “I was in the woods

last night, ” he reminded his friend. At once he felt the blood

stir in his veins and his fur stiffen.

Smudge looked down at him, his eyes wide. “Oh, yes, I

forgot! How was it? Did you catch anything? Or did

anything catch you? ”

Rusty paused, not sure how to tel his old friend what had

happened. “I met some wild cats, ” he began.

“What! ” Smudge was clearly shocked. “Did you get into

a fight? ”

“Sort of. ” Rusty could feel the energy surging through his

body again as he recal ed the strength and power of the

Clan cats.

“Were you hurt? What happened? ” Smudge prompted

him eagerly.

“There were three of them. Bigger and stronger than any

of us. ”

“And you fought al three of them! ” Smudge interrupted,

his tail twitching with excitement.

“No! ” Rusty mewed hastily. “Just the youngest one; the

other two came later. ”

“How come they didn’t shred you to pieces? ”

“They just warned me to leave their territory. But then…”

Rusty hesitated.

“What! ” mewed Smudge impatiently.

“They asked me to join their Clan. ”

Smudge’s whiskers quivered disbelievingly.

“They did! ” Rusty insisted.

“Why would they do that? ”

“I don’t know, ” Rusty admitted. “I think they need extra

paws in their Clan. ”

“Sounds a bit odd to me, ” Smudge mewed doubtful y. “I

wouldn’t trust them if I were you. ”

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. ”

Smudge scrambled down from the fence and stood in

front of Rusty. “Please don’t go, Rusty, ” he mewed in alarm.

“I might never see you again. ”

Rusty nudged him affectionately with his head. “Don’t

worry. My housefolk wil get another cat. You’l get on with

him fine. You get along with everyone! ”

“But it won’t be the same! ” Smudge wailed.

Rusty twitched his tail impatiently. “That’s just the point. If

I stay around here til they take me to the Cutter, I won’t be

the same either. ”

Smudge looked puzzled. “The Cutter? ” he echoed.

“The vet, ” Rusty explained. “To be altered, like Henry

was. ”

Smudge shrugged and stared down at his paws. “But

Henry’s al right, ” he mumbled. “I mean, I know he’s a bit

lazier now, but he’s not unhappy. We could stil have fun. ”

Rusty felt his heart fil with sadness at the thought of

leaving his friend. “I’m sorry, Smudge. I’l miss you, but I

have to go. ”

Smudge didn’t reply, but stepped forward and gently

touched Rusty’s nose with his own. “Fair enough. I can see I

can’t stop you, but at least let’s spend one more morning

together. ”

Rusty found himself enjoying the morning even more

than usual, visiting his old haunts with Smudge, sharing

words with the cats he had grown up with. Every one of his

senses felt supercharged, as if he were poised before a

huge jump. As sunhigh approached, Rusty grew more and

more impatient to see if Lionheart would real y be waiting

for him. The idle buzz of meows from his old friends

seemed to fade into the background as al his senses

strained toward the woods.

Rusty jumped down from his garden fence for the last

time and crept into the woods. He had said his good-byes

to Smudge. Now al his thoughts were focused on the forest

and the cats who lived in it.

As he approached the spot where he had met with the

Clan cats the night before, he sat down and tasted the air.

Tal trees shielded the ground from the midday sunshine,

making it comfortably cool. Here and there a patch of

sunlight shone through a gap in the leaves and lit up the

forest floor. Rusty could smel the same cat-scent as last

night, but he had no idea whether it was old or new. He

lifted his head and sniffed uncertainly.

“You have a lot to learn, ” meowed a deep voice. “Even

the tiniest Clan kit knows when another cat is nearby. ”

Rusty saw a pair of green eyes glinting from beneath a

bramble bush. Now he recognized the scent: it was

Lionheart.

“Can you tel if I am alone? ” asked the golden tabby,

stepping into the light.

Hastily, Rusty sniffed again. The scents of Bluestar and

Graypaw were stil there, but not as strong as the previous

night. Hesitantly, he mewed, “Bluestar and Graypaw aren’t

with you this time. ”

“That’s right, ” meowed Lionheart. “But someone else is. ”

Rusty stiffened as a second Clan cat strode into the

clearing.

“This is Whitestorm, ” purred Lionheart. “One of

ThunderClan’s senior warriors. ”

Rusty looked at the tom and felt his spine tingle with cold

fear. Was this a trap? Long-bodied and muscular,

Whitestorm stood in front of Rusty and gazed down at him.

His white coat was thick and unmarked and his eyes were

the yel ow of sunbaked sand. Rusty flattened his ears

warily, and tensed his muscles in preparation for a fight.

“Relax, before your fear-scent brings unwanted

attention, ” growled Lionheart. “We are here only to take you

to our camp. ”

Rusty sat very stil, hardly daring to breathe, as

Whitestorm stretched his nose forward and gave him a

curious sniff.

“Hel o, young one, ” murmured the white cat. “I’ve heard a

lot about you. ”

Rusty dipped his head in greeting.

“Come, we can speak more once we are in the camp, ”

ordered Lionheart, and, without pausing, he and

Whitestorm leaped away into the undergrowth. Rusty

jumped to his paws and fol owed as quickly as he could.

The two warriors made no al owances for Rusty as they

sped through the forest, and before long he was struggling

to keep up. Their pace barely slowed as they led him over

fal en trees that they cleared in a single leap, but which

Rusty had to scramble over paw by paw. They passed

through sharply fragrant pine trees, where they had to jump

across deep gul ies churned up by a Twoleg tree-eater.

From the safety of his garden fence, Rusty had often heard

it roaring and snarling in the distance. One gul y was too

wide to jump, half-fil ed with slimy, foul-smel ing water. The

Clan cats waded through without hesitating.

Rusty had never put a paw in water before. But he was

determined not to show any signs of weakness, so he

narrowed his eyes and fol owed, trying to ignore the

uncomfortable wetness that soaked his bel y fur.

At last Lionheart and Whitestorm paused. Rusty skidded

to a halt behind them and stood panting while the two

warriors stepped onto a rock that rested on the edge of a

smal ravine.

“We are very close to our camp now, ” meowed

Lionheart.

Rusty strained to see any signs of life—moving leaves, a

glimpse of fur among the bushes below, but his eyes saw

nothing except the same undergrowth that covered the rest

of the forest floor.

“Use your nose. You must be able to scent it, ” hissed

Whitestorm impatiently.

Rusty closed his eyes and sniffed. Whitestorm was right.

The scents here were very different from the cat-scent he

was used to. The air smel ed stronger, speaking of many,

many different cats.

He nodded thoughtful y and announced, “I can smel

cats. ”

Lionheart and Whitestorm exchanged amused looks.

“There wil come a time, if you are accepted into the

Clan, when you wil know each cat-scent by name, ”

Lionheart meowed. “Fol ow me! ” He led the way nimbly

down the boulders to the bottom of the ravine, and pushed

his way through a thick patch of gorse. Rusty fol owed, and

Whitestorm took up the rear. As his sides scraped against

the prickly gorse, Rusty looked down and noticed that the

grass beneath his paws was flattened into a broad, strong-

smel ing track. This must be the main entrance into the

camp, he thought.

Beyond the gorse, a clearing opened up. The ground at

the center was bare, hard earth, shaped by many

generations of pawsteps. This camp had been here a long

time. The clearing was dappled by sunshine, and the air felt

warm and stil.

Rusty looked around, his eyes wide. There were cats

everywhere, sitting alone or in groups, sharing food or

purring quietly as they groomed one another.

“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 cal

it sharing tongues. It is a custom that binds the members of

the Clan together. ”

The cats had obviously smel ed Rusty’s foreign scent, for

heads began to turn and stare curiously in his direction.

Suddenly shy of meeting any cat’s gaze directly, Rusty

looked around the clearing. It was edged with thick grass,

dotted with treestumps and a fal en tree. A thick curtain of

ferns and gorse shielded the camp from the rest of the

woods.

“Over there, ” meowed Lionheart, flicking his tail toward

an impenetrable-looking tangle of brambles, “is the nursery,

where the kits are cared for. ”

Rusty swiveled his ears toward the bushes. He couldn’t

see through the knot of prickly branches, but he could hear

the mewling of several kittens from somewhere inside. As

he watched, a ginger she-cat squirmed out through a smal

gap in the front. That must be one of the queens, Rusty

thought.

A tabby queen with distinctive black markings appeared

around the bramble bush. The two she-cats exchanged a

friendly lick between the ears before the tabby slipped

inside the nursery, murmuring to the squealing kits.

“The care of our kits is shared by al of the queens, ”

meowed Lionheart. “Al 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. ”

“Here comes Bluestar, ” meowed Whitestorm, sniffing

the air.

Rusty sniffed the air too, and was pleased that he was

able to recognize the scent of the gray she-cat a moment

before she appeared from the shadow of a large boulder

that lay beside them at the head of the clearing.

“He came, ” Bluestar purred, addressing the warriors.

Whitestorm replied, “Lionheart was convinced he would

not. ”

Rusty noticed the tip of Bluestar’s tail twitch impatiently.

“Wel, what do you think of him? ” she asked.

“He kept up wel on the return journey, despite his puny

size, ” Whitestorm admitted. “He certainly seems strong for

a kittypet. ”

“So it is agreed? ” Bluestar looked at Lionheart and

Whitestorm.

Both cats nodded.

“Then I shal announce his arrival to the Clan. ” Bluestar

leaped up onto the boulder and yowled, “Let al those cats

old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the

Highrock for a Clan meeting. ”

Her clear cal brought al the cats trotting toward her,

emerging like liquid shadows from the edges of the

clearing. Rusty stayed where he was, flanked by Lionheart

and Whitestorm. The other cats settled themselves below

the Highrock and looked expectantly up at their leader.

Rusty felt a rush of relief as he recognized Graypaw’s

thick gray fur among the cats. Beside him sat a young

tortoiseshel queen, her black-tipped tail tucked neatly over

smal white paws. A large dark gray tabby crouched behind

them, the black stripes on his fur looking like shadows on a

moonlit forest floor.

When the cats were stil, Bluestar spoke. “ThunderClan

needs more warriors, ” she began. “Never before have we

had so few apprentices in training. It has been decided that

ThunderClan wil 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. “I have

found a cat who is wil ing to become an apprentice of

ThunderClan. ”

“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.

Bluestar ignored the tabby and addressed al of her

Clan. “Lionheart and Whitestorm have met this young cat,

and they agree with me that we should train him with the

other apprentices. ”

Rusty looked up at Lionheart, then back at the Clan, to

find al eyes were on him now. His fur prickled and he

swal owed nervously. There was silence for a moment.

Rusty was sure they must al be able to hear his heart

pulsing and smel his fear-scent.

Now a deafening crescendo of caterwauling rose from

the crowd.

“Where does he come from? ”

“Which Clan does he belong to? ”

“What a strange scent he carries! That’s not the scent of

any Clan I know! ”

Then one yowl in particular sounded out above the rest.

“Look at his col ar! 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. ”

Lionheart bent down and hissed into Rusty’s ear, “That

tabby is Longtail. He smel s your fear. They al do. You must

prove to him and the other cats that your fear won’t hold you

back. ”

But Rusty couldn’t move. How could he ever prove to

these fierce cats that he wasn’t just a kittypet?

The tabby continued to jeer at him. “Your col ar is a mark

of the Twolegs, and that noisy jingling wil make you a poor

hunter at best. At worst, it wil bring the Twolegs into our

territory, looking for the poor lost kittypet who fil s the woods

with his pitiful tinkling. ”

Al the cats howled in agreement.

Longtail went on, wel aware that he had the support of

his audience. “The noise of your treacherous bel wil alert

our enemies, even if your Twoleg stench doesn’t! ”

Lionheart hissed into Rusty’s ear once more: “Do you

back down from a chal enge? ”

Rusty stil did not move. But this time he was trying to

pinpoint Longtail’s position. There he was, just behind a

dusky brown queen. Rusty flattened his ears, narrowed his

eyes and, hissing, leaped through the startled cats to fling

himself onto his tormentor.

Longtail was completely unprepared for Rusty’s attack.

He staggered sideways, losing his footing on the hard-

baked earth. Fil ed with rage and desperate to prove

himself, Rusty dug his claws deep into the tabby cat’s fur

and sank in his teeth. No subtle rituals of swiping and

boxing preceded this fight. The two cats were locked in a

screaming, writhing tussle that flipped and somersaulted

around the clearing at the heart of the camp. The other cats

had to spring out of the way to avoid the screeching

whirlwind of fur.

As Rusty scratched and struggled, he was suddenly

aware that he felt no fear, only exhilaration. Through the

roaring of the blood in his ears, he could hear the cats

around them wailing with excitement.

Then Rusty felt his col ar tighten around his neck.

Longtail had gripped it between his teeth and was tugging,

and tugging hard. Rusty felt a terrible pressure at his throat.

Unable to breathe, he started to panic. He writhed and

twisted, but each movement only made the pressure worse.

Retching and gulping for air, he summoned up al his

strength and tried to pul away from Longtail’s grip. And

suddenly, with a loud snap, he was free.

Longtail tumbled away from him. Rusty scrambled to his

paws and looked around. Longtail was crouching three tail-

lengths away. And, dangling from Longtail’s mouth, Rusty

saw his col ar, mangled and broken.

At once, Bluestar leaped down from the Highrock and

silenced the noisy crowd with a thunderous caterwaul.

Rusty and Longtail remained fixed to the spot, gasping for

breath. Clumps of fur hung from their ruffled coats. Rusty

could feel a cut stinging above his eye. Longtail’s left ear

was badly torn, and blood dripped down his lean shoulders

onto the dusty ground. They stared at each other, their

hostility not yet spent.

Bluestar stepped forward and took the col ar from

Longtail. She placed it on the ground in front of her and

meowed, “The newcomer has lost his Twoleg col ar 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 looked at Bluestar and solemnly nodded his

acceptance. He stood up and stepped forward into a shaft

of sunshine, welcoming the warmth on his sore muscles.

The pool of light blazed bright on his orange pelt, making

his fur glow. 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.

Bluestar approached Rusty and placed the shredded

col ar on the ground in front of him. She touched his ear

gently with her nose. “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. “You

have fought wel. ” Then she turned to the Clan and

announced, “From this day forward, until he has earned his

warrior name, this apprentice wil be cal ed Firepaw, in

honor of his flame-colored coat. ”

She stepped back and, with the other cats, waited

silently for his next move. Without hesitating, Rusty turned

and kicked dust and grass over his col ar as though burying

his dirt.

Longtail growled and limped out of the clearing toward a

fern-shaded corner. The cats split into groups, murmuring

to each other excitedly.

“Hey, Firepaw! ”

Rusty heard Graypaw’s friendly voice behind him.

Firepaw! A thril of pride surged through him at the sound of

his new name. He turned to greet the gray apprentice with a

welcoming sniff.

“Great fight, Firepaw! ” mewed Graypaw. “Especial y for

a kittypet! Longtail is a warrior, although he only finished his

training two moons ago. That scar you left on his ear won’t

let him forget you in a hurry. You’ve spoiled his good looks,

that’s for sure. ”

“Thanks, Graypaw, ” Firepaw replied. “He put up quite a

fight, though! ” He licked his front paw and began to wipe

clean the deep scratch that stung above his eye. As he

washed he heard his new name again, echoing among the

meows of the cats.

“Firepaw! ”

“Hey, Firepaw! ”

“Welcome, young Firepaw! ”

Firepaw closed his eyes for a moment and let the voices

wash over him.

“Good name, too! ” Graypaw mewed approvingly, jolting

him awake.

Firepaw looked around. “Where did Longtail creep off

to? ”

“I think he was heading toward Spottedleaf’s den. ”

Graypaw tipped his head toward the fern-enclosed corner

Longtail had disappeared into. “She’s our medicine cat.

Not bad-looking either. Younger and a lot prettier than most

—”

A low yowl next to the two cats stopped Graypaw

midspeech. They both turned, and Firepaw recognized the

powerful gray tabby cat who had sat behind Graypaw

earlier.

“Darkstripe, ” mewed Graypaw, dipping his head

respectful y.

The sleek tom looked at Firepaw for a moment. “Lucky

your col ar 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 scornful y, then turned and stalked off.

“Now Darkstripe, ” Graypaw hissed to Firepaw under his

breath, “is neither young, nor pretty…. ”

Firepaw was about to agree with his new friend when he

was interrupted by a warning yowl from an old gray cat

sitting at the edge of the clearing.

“Smal ear smel s trouble! ” Graypaw meowed,

immediately alert.

Firepaw barely had time to look around before a young

cat crashed through the bushes and into the camp. He was

skinny and—apart from the white tip of his long, thin tail—jet

black from head to toe.

Graypaw gasped. “That’s Ravenpaw! Why is he alone?

Where’s Tigerclaw? ”

Firepaw looked at Ravenpaw staggering across the

floor of the clearing. He was panting heavily. His coat was

ruffled and dusty, and his eyes were wild with fear.

“Who are Ravenpaw and Tigerclaw? ” Firepaw

whispered to Graypaw, as several other cats raced past

him to greet the new arrival.

“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 furbal! ”

“Redtail? ” Firepaw echoed, thoroughly confused by al

these names.

“Bluestar’s deputy, ” hissed Graypaw. “But why on earth

has Ravenpaw come back alone? ” he added to himself. He

lifted his head to listen as Bluestar stepped forward.

“Ravenpaw? ” The she-cat spoke calmly, but a look of

worry clouded her blue eyes. The other cats drew back,

curling their lips with anxiety.

“What has happened? ” Bluestar jumped onto the

Highrock and looked down at the trembling cat. “Speak,

Ravenpaw! ”

Ravenpaw was stil struggling for breath, and his sides

heaved fitful y while the dust around him turned red with

blood, but stil 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! ”