Path Оf А Warrior

Chapter Six

“Come on, Redtail! You have to get up!” Willowpelt’s voice broke through Redtail’s uneasy sleep, and he raised his head, blinking blearily in the pale dawn light. As the youngest warriors, his and Willowpelt’s nests were at the edge of the warriors’ den, far from the warm, comfortable spots at the center, and a cool breeze was blowing through his fur.

The den was crowded with cats stretching and climbing out of their cozy nests, shivering in the early morning air.

“I wish I was going,” Frostfur mewed to Brindleface, her paws resting on the edge of her sister’s nest. “I’d teach WindClan to keep their claws off our prey.”

Redtail’s heart sank. How could he go to fight WindClan today, when just yesterday he and Stagleap had agreed to try to talk their leaders into peace? If he attacked, and Stagleap had counseled Heatherstar to make peace, how could Stagleap feel anything but betrayed? Stagleap would never trust any ThunderClan cat again, and with good reason.

He followed the other young warriors into the clearing, his paws heavy and slow. As the three she-cats joined the other cats already gathered there, Redtail hesitated. Maybe I still have time to talk to Sunstar. If I tell him Tigerclaw and I lied …

What then? That would be a far worse betrayal than anything he could do to Stagleap. Redtail had a duty to Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw had saved his life when he was just an apprentice, and Tigerclaw had the right to expect loyalty from Redtail in return. And Redtail owed his loyalty to ThunderClan, not to any WindClan cat.

Tigerclaw was near the Highrock, sharing a piece of prey with Thistleclaw. At the sight of Redtail, he stood up, stretched, and sauntered over. “We’re leaving as soon as every cat is ready,” he instructed. “Get yourself a mouse or something. You’ll need your strength.”

“Okay,” Redtail mewed, moving obediently toward the fresh-kill pile. Tigerclaw followed.

“Sunstar wants us to concentrate on making a mess of their camp,” he added as Redtail crouched to pick up a sparrow. “But if you see that apprentice Sorrelpaw again, or her so-called mentor, don’t hesitate to claw their fur off. We need to show all the Clans what happens to cats who cross ThunderClan’s borders.”

Redtail dropped the sparrow. “Sorrelpaw didn’t cross our border on purpose,” he burst out. “Please, Tigerclaw, let’s talk to Sunstar. If we tell him what really happened, maybe he’ll change his mind about this.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes narrowed. “What really happened?” He came closer; Redtail could smell the mouse on his breath. “We told Sunstar what really happened.”

“No, we didn’t,” Redtail retorted. “You told Sunstar that we waited for Stagleap to show up after we caught Sorrelpaw on our territory. And that they insulted ThunderClan and attacked us before we drove them off. That’s not what happened at all.”

“Maybe we saw what happened differently, Redtail,” Tigerclaw growled with a dismissive flick of his tail. “And I know you’re young and you’ve just become a warrior. You don’t really understand yet.”

“That’s not the point,” Redtail insisted. “I know what the truth is.” But uncertainty squirmed uncomfortably in his belly. Maybe Tigerclaw was right. Everyone knew he was one of the best warriors in ThunderClan. Maybe Redtail just didn’t understand.

Tigerclaw looked amused. “What you have to remember is that WindClan is our enemy,” he said. “Anything that makes them weaker makes us stronger.”

Is that true? Redtail wondered. He’d always thought of the other Clans in the forest as ThunderClan’s allies.

“Remember,” Tigerclaw mewed softly, nodding at the sparrow at Redtail’s feet. “There is only so much prey in the forest. If WindClan hunts on our territory, ThunderClan cats will go hungry.”

Redtail stared down at the sparrow unhappily. “I guess you’re right,” he murmured. A new thought struck him, and he looked up again eagerly. “But is this going to make ThunderClan stronger? There are a lot of cats in WindClan, and we’re going straight into their camp with just a patrol.”

Tigerclaw gave a pleased mrrow. “There might be a lot of cats in WindClan, but most of them will be out of their camp on a fine day like today, hunting and patrolling. Other than a guard or two, we’ll be facing elders, queens, and kits. They won’t fight us, and we won’t even have to hurt them. We’ll just damage their camp and teach them a lesson.” With another flick of his tail, he added, “Not that I’d mind facing Stagleap again. But Sunstar wants us to do this quickly and cleanly, without much of a fight.”

“Oh,” Redtail murmured. “I see now.” That wasn’t so bad, he supposed. After all, WindClan was their enemy, sort of. And if no cat was really going to be hurt, perhaps it didn’t matter that Sunstar didn’t know the whole story.

“We won’t bother trying to sneak up on them,” Bluefur declared as they left ThunderClan’s camp and headed through the forest toward Fourtrees. “The whole point of this is to show the other Clans that ThunderClan isn’t afraid to defend what’s ours.”

The six cats crossed through their own territory and between the tall oaks of Fourtrees without pausing, Bluefur taking the lead. Tigerclaw and Thistleclaw followed close behind her, shoulder to shoulder. It was a clear day and the early morning sun warmed Redtail’s pelt. It was a good day for hunting, or just for basking in the newleaf warmth, and Redtail could almost pretend their plans were that innocent.

Redtail dropped back to walk with Thrushpelt and Patchpelt. “Have you ever been to WindClan’s camp?” he asked them.

Thrushpelt shook his head, but Patchpelt nodded. “I went onto WindClan territory a few moons ago with Featherwhisker when he needed to talk to Barkface about medicine-cat business, and the patrol escorted us into their camp.” Patchpelt wrinkled his nose a little. “It was weird. Except for the kits and the elders, they sleep right out in the open. They don’t have proper dens like we do.”

“Wow,” Redtail breathed. How much damage can we even do, if WindClan doesn’t have nests to destroy? The thought eased some of the anxious feeling of wrongness inside him.

On the other side of Fourtrees, Bluefur paused at the bottom of a slope covered with bushes. “At the top of this is WindClan’s territory,” she told them, looking mostly at Redtail. “When we reach the top, I’ll lead you all to the camp—it’s hard to see if you don’t already know where it is. If we’re quick enough, any WindClan warriors out patrolling won’t be able to make it back before we’re gone.”

The slope grew steeper and rockier as they climbed, until Redtail was leaping from boulder to boulder, clinging to the rocks, his claws out for any traction they could give him.

“You all right?” Patchpelt asked, sounding slightly breathless beside him. “This is a tough climb for smaller cats like us.” It was kind of him to lump himself and Redtail together, Redtail thought—he wasn’t even as big as the small black-and-white tom yet. “But this is the only way to get to WindClan territory without crossing the river, which is even harder.”

“I’m okay,” Redtail told him, trying not to wheeze. “But I’m surprised WindClan bothered to come down here to hunt.”

Patchpelt slipped on a mossy stone, then caught himself. “They need prey,” he mewed. “And it’s easier for them. Long-legged rabbit-chasers, they’re practically rabbits themselves.” He and Redtail shared a mrrow of laughter.

At the top of the slope, Redtail stared wide-eyed across an open grassy plain broken by occasional groups of thin trees and scraggly gorse bushes. Outcroppings of bare rock dotted the grasslands, and the wind swept across the plain, bending the grasses and trees. It seemed chilly and bleak to Redtail, and he shivered.

The edge of the plateau smelled strongly of WindClan’s earthy scent. The cats exchanged glances, and Bluefur led the way across the border markings.

“The camp’s over there,” Patchpelt told Redtail, pointing with his tail. “In that dip in the moorland.” Redtail peered toward the hollow but saw nothing but a tangle of gorse. Bluefur began to run across the open, scrubby land, and the other cats followed her. Redtail took deep breaths of the cool air, his paws pounding across the grasslands. It felt strange to have no trees above to shelter him, only the wide blue sky, but he tried to ignore that, instead focusing on the stretch of his muscles as he ran.

The patrol charged through the gorse, thorns scratching at their pelts. Redtail hissed as one caught painfully in his fur, but he didn’t slow his pace. Bursting through the last of the bushes, they found themselves in the WindClan camp, a clearing protected by the gorse bushes all around but open to the sky. There was a tall boulder in the center of the camp, and the cats lying below it in the sunshine looked up, startled.

A light brown she-cat—Doespring, Redtail thought—leaped to her feet, hissing in outrage. “What are you doing here?” she yowled. “Get out or we’ll rip you to shreds!” The lithe gray-and-white tom beside her, who Redtail remembered was called Aspenfall, growled at them, showing his teeth.

Despite Doespring’s threat, Redtail could see that ThunderClan had been right: There were few cats in the camp, and, except for Doespring and Aspenfall, who must have been left to guard the camp, almost none of them were warriors. Two thin old cats peered out from a den carved out of the gorse wall. That must be the elders’ den. One yowled loudly in alarm.

A hissing gray tabby she-cat blocked the entrance to another, her fur spiked and her claws out. “Stay back,” she snarled.

“We’re not going to hurt your kits, Ryestalk,” Thrushpelt said reassuringly, inching closer to her.

Her tail bushed out even further. “Get away from the nursery!”

Before Thrushpelt could say anything else, Tigerclaw slashed his claws across Ryestalk’s shoulder, making her wail with pain and surprise. “Take your kits and get out of the nursery,” he hissed. “Or it’ll be your fault when they get hurt.”

Eyes wide with fear, Ryestalk hustled her two kits out of the nursery and as far from the invading cats as possible. The kits peered up at the ThunderClan cats, confused.

“Who’s that, Ryestalk?” one of them, a small brown tom, squeaked, his nose wrinkled. “They smell funny.”

“Hush, Mudkit,” she murmured. “Stay behind me.” Crowding the kits into a gorse bush behind her, she lowered her ears, snarling at the ThunderClan cats. Redtail stared guiltily at the blood running down the queen’s shoulder and soaking into her fur. No one was supposed to get hurt!

Thrushpelt had already begun tearing apart the WindClan nursery, and Redtail reluctantly moved forward to help him, yanking out soft nests and tearing at the gorse walls. As he dragged a nest of moss and sheep’s wool out into the clearing, Redtail looked up to see Thistleclaw and Patchpelt doing the same thing in the elders’ den, as Bluefur held off the elders, who were fiercely trying to defend their nest despite seeming frail. Tigerclaw had drawn Doespring and Aspenfall into a fight, distracting them from helping Ryestalk or the elders. As Redtail watched, Tigerclaw crouched and slashed at Doespring’s belly, his claws ripping through her fur, and the she-cat lurched backward with a pained screech. Redtail winced in sympathy.

Barkface, WindClan’s young medicine cat, stood squarely in front of his den, snarling protectively. As Redtail watched, Patchpelt took a hesitant step toward him.

“Not the medicine cat’s den,” Bluefur called sharply, dodging a blow from one of the elders. Relief rushed through Redtail. If they destroyed the medicine cat’s den, WindClan cats might die. This fight wasn’t worth that. We aren’t going to do anything terrible here, he thought. We’re just teaching them a lesson.

No matter how many times he told himself that, it still didn’t feel true.

Tigerclaw hissed in exasperation, pinning Aspenfall to the ground. “You’re too soft, Bluefur,” he taunted the she-cat.

“I’m still ThunderClan’s deputy,” she answered. “And I say leave the medicine cat’s den alone.”

Tigerclaw seemed ready to argue, but a sudden yowl of rage drew all their attention to the camp’s entrance. WindClan warriors were streaming into their camp, Stagleap in the lead.

Perhaps they’d heard the shrieks and hisses of fighting cats. Redtail didn’t know. Stagleap cast him one disappointed look, and Redtail looked away, suddenly conscious of the shredded debris of the nursery all around his paws. It’s not my fault, he wanted to yowl, but was that true? He knew what had really happened. He could have talked to Sunstar. He could have tried harder to talk Tigerclaw out of this. Guilt blocked his throat: There was nothing he could say now.

Stagleap threw himself at Tigerclaw, and, in a heartbeat they became a furiously fighting mass of fur, their dark brown pelts difficult to tell apart as they tussled. The other WindClan cats were attacking: Talltail, WindClan’s deputy, leaped for Bluefur’s throat.

A cat barreled into Redtail’s side while he was distracted, knocking him to the ground. Sharp pain spread through his shoulder. Plumclaw was holding him down, her claws ripping at his pelt.

Redtail struggled beneath the small gray she-cat, panting. He couldn’t get to his feet. He had to protect his underbelly.

Then he remembered a move Sparrowpelt had taught him. He stopped struggling for a moment, rolling fully onto his back. As Plumclaw shifted her weight to keep from falling, he kicked up with his hind legs, knocking her away so that he could scramble back onto his paws.

Thrushpelt was swiping fiercely at Hickorynose, who howled in pain, and Plumclaw turned to slash at Thrushpelt with her claws. Redtail looked up at the mass of fighting cats all around him just as Talltail slashed Bluefur across the throat.

Bluefur stumbled. Blood was running down her chest and dripping onto the ground.

“Bluefur!” Redtail yowled and sprang toward her, shouldering Plumclaw out of his way. Talltail was bracing himself for another attack.

“No!” Redtail hissed fiercely. “We’re going.” Talltail hesitated, and Redtail braced himself against Bluefur’s side. “Bluefur, you have to call a retreat,” he added urgently.

Bluefur was leaning heavily against Redtail’s side. “Bluefur?” he asked. The deputy seemed dazed, her eyes fluttering shut, and Redtail could barely support her weight.

She can’t do it, Redtail realized. Bluefur was barely conscious. He looked around at the clawing, struggling cats. There were too many WindClan cats now. ThunderClan was outnumbered. As he watched, Patchpelt fell beneath two WindClan warriors.

Bluefur moaned.

If we stay here, she’ll die, Redtail realized. And we’ve already lost this battle. Other ThunderClan cats might die, too.

“ThunderClan, retreat!” he yowled, as loudly as he could.

Tigerclaw knocked Stagleap away from him. There was a long scratch across the ThunderClan warrior’s face, but his amber eyes were alight with a fierce joy. “What do you mean, retreat?” he snarled.

But the other ThunderClan warriors had, like Redtail, clearly realized the battle had been lost. Thrushpelt came up to Bluefur’s other side, and between them, he and Redtail supported Bluefur toward the tunnel through the gorse. The other ThunderClan warriors raced after them.

“Run away, ThunderClan!” Mocking yowls and threats rose behind them.

The race back toward Fourtrees was like a nightmare, Redtail gasping for breath as he struggled beneath Bluefur’s half-conscious weight.

As their paws hit the grass of Fourtrees, Redtail and Thrushpelt paused for a moment to catch their breath.

“Cowards!” Tigerclaw hissed. Redtail turned to face him. The big brown tabby’s face was contorted with rage.

“We had to retreat,” Redtail panted. His shoulder ached and his paw pads were burning. Every heartbeat they stopped here to argue, Bluefur might be dying. “Look at her.”

Tigerclaw’s gaze slid over Bluefur. “We should have finished the fight for her. No true warrior would run away from a battle. You’ve brought shame on the whole Clan, Redtail.”

Have I? Bluefur’s breath rattled harshly in her chest, and Redtail realized he was quite sure that he hadn’t. “I did the right thing,” he insisted, his eyes steady on Tigerclaw’s. “True warriors protect their Clanmates. This was never a battle worth fighting.”

Tigerclaw hissed again but said nothing. Thistleclaw and Patchpelt took Redtail and Thrushpelt’s places supporting Bluefur, giving the other cats a chance to catch their breath, and they hurried on toward ThunderClan territory.

Redtail was at the back of the group, tired and sore, as they reached the entrance to ThunderClan’s camp. As the others disappeared into the ravine, Bluefur supported between them, Tigerclaw turned to face Redtail.

“Nice move,” he hissed, his amber eyes dark with anger.

“What do you mean?” Redtail asked.

“Trying to make it look like you’re worried about Bluefur,” Tigerclaw scoffed. “You’re just a coward. You always have been—ever since you were a ’paw and I had to save you on that bridge. So much for loyalty. So much for the life you owe me.”

Redtail didn’t drop his head in guilt or gratitude; he glared straight back into Tigerclaw’s eyes. He felt like he was seeing Tigerclaw for the first time. Where was the brave warrior who had saved him from the hawk? This cat had bullied an apprentice, had lied to their leader, had done everything he could to start a battle no cat needed. And Redtail had let him. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“I am worried about Bluefur,” he hissed back in a fierce, low whisper. “Your stupid grudge almost got her killed. And I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

He pushed past Tigerclaw and headed into ThunderClan’s camp. He was loyal, but now he knew what being loyal meant.

It wasn’t Tigerclaw he owed his loyalty to. It was ThunderClan.