Path Оf А Warrior

Chapter One

Redpaw carefully patted some fresh moss into the corner of a nest in the ThunderClan warriors’ den, then sighed. “This is so boring. I want to go hunting.”

His sister Willowpaw dragged more moss into the den, wrinkling her nose at the taste as she dropped it beside him. “At least we’re not picking ticks off the elders like Frostpaw and Brindlepaw,” she mewed.

Redpaw patted the new moss into place. “But pretty soon they’ll have their warrior ceremonies, and we’ll be the only apprentices left, and we’ll have to do all the worst jobs in camp for moons,” he complained. “Whitestorm and Tigerclaw already became warriors. And we don’t even have Spottedpaw helping us anymore.”

Willowpaw peeked out the entrance to the warriors’ den toward where their littermate, Spottedpaw, was laying out herbs to dry in the sun. “Medicine-cat apprentices work pretty hard, too,” she purred, her blue eyes shining with amusement. “Not just you, Redpaw.”

Redpaw’s whiskers twitched. “I know I’m being silly,” he admitted. “I just wanted to go hunting with Sparrowpelt and Tigerclaw and the others.”

He would have gone with them, if it had been an ordinary hunting patrol. Sparrowpelt was his mentor; the tabby might be a little grumpy sometimes, but he wouldn’t leave Redpaw out of a hunt. But today their hunting patrol had gone toward Sunningrocks, and ThunderClan’s leader, Sunstar, had deemed the rocks near the river too dangerous for apprentices.

“We’ve been fighting over Sunningrocks with RiverClan for years,” Sparrowpelt had explained to Redpaw, his tail twitching. “Some cats say that the rocks were in the river once, so RiverClan thinks of them as theirs. I don’t know about that—they’ve been on ThunderClan land as long as any cat in the Clans now can remember. But RiverClan won’t admit they’re ours. We went and warned RiverClan off, not long before you became an apprentice, but Sunstar’s nervous that they might be biding their time and planning an ambush.”

So, Redpaw thought with another sigh, I’m stuck freshening nests in camp instead of catching prey.

It was all useful work, of course. Redpaw knew that, and he wanted to do whatever he could to help his Clan. But apprentice duties around camp weren’t any fun, compared with hunting.

There was nothing Redpaw liked better than hunting: prowling through ThunderClan’s forest territory, sniffing the air for the scent of prey, his ears pricked for even the faintest sound. After he’d spotted his prey, he loved the feeling of his muscles tensing, his heart pounding, as he carefully stalked it. And there was nothing more exhilarating than the final pounce.

Redpaw flexed his claws, imagining the squirm of a mouse beneath his paws. He felt like he might burst with pride whenever he saw his Clan eating prey he had caught. Sparrowpelt had said just the other day that Redpaw’s hunting skills were coming on nicely, and the memory filled Redpaw with a warm rush of pride.

“I’m going to be the best hunter in ThunderClan,” he announced.

Willowpaw flicked her pale gray tail. “Even better than Tigerclaw?” she mewed teasingly. “No cat is better than Tigerclaw. At least that’s what he thinks.”

A shadow fell across the entrance to the den, and Poppydawn, Willowpaw’s mentor, thrust her broad red face through the opening.

“Sounds like there’s a lot more chattering than working going on in here,” she meowed briskly. “Willowpaw, put some more moss in that corner. I don’t want to be sleeping on rocks.”

“Yes, Poppydawn,” Willowpaw mewed, dipping her head respectfully.

“And Redpaw, why don’t you go get some feathers?” Poppydawn went on. “Those would make the nests nice and soft.”

“There aren’t any good feathers on the fresh-kill pile,” Redpaw replied, a little less respectfully. Poppydawn wasn’t his mentor.

“There will be now,” Poppydawn told him. “Sparrowpelt’s patrol is just getting back, and it looks like they have a couple of nice starlings.”

“They’re back?” Redpaw rushed past Poppydawn out of the warriors’ den, Willowpaw close behind.

“Don’t forget to finish that job,” Poppydawn called sternly after them.

Outside the cozy warmth of the warriors’ den, Redpaw shivered as the chill of leaf-fall seeped into his fur. But the sun was still shining brightly: They had some time left before the bitter cold of leaf-bare. In a patch of warm sunlight in the center of camp, the two older apprentices, Frostpaw and Brindlepaw, paused in their grooming of the elders beside them.

“Looks like it was a good hunt,” Frostpaw mewed cheerfully. Beside her, Larksong arched her back in annoyance.

“Are you gossiping or getting rid of my ticks?” she asked grouchily. Frostpaw rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the old she-cat’s pelt. Redpaw suppressed a purr of amusement and looked up at the returning hunters.

Sparrowpelt was already beside the fresh-kill pile; the starlings Poppydawn had mentioned were on the ground at his paws. Despite his good catch, Sparrowpelt’s face was dark with anger. Redpaw hesitated, glancing back toward the camp entrance at the rest of the hunting patrol coming in.

Speckletail was striding across the clearing toward the fresh-kill pile, a squirrel dangling from her jaws and a stormy expression in her amber eyes. Redpaw craned his neck to see past her. Tigerclaw was just pushing his broad shoulders through the gorse tunnel. He looked angry, too, but Redpaw was distracted by the prey that hung from his mouth. A fat rabbit and two juicy voles! So much prey that Redpaw wondered how the big warrior was managing to carry it all.

“Wow,” Redpaw breathed to his littermate. “You’re right. Tigerclaw’s the best hunter in camp.”

Willowpaw flipped her tail. “He’s still an arrogant furball, though,” she mewed softly. “We know that.”

“Yeah … maybe,” Redpaw agreed, his eyes following Tigerclaw as he crossed the clearing behind Speckletail. “He’s changed a lot since he became a warrior, though.”

When Tigerclaw had been the oldest of the apprentices, he had taken every opportunity to make it clear that he was the best fighter and the best hunter among the apprentices and that Redpaw, Willowpaw, and Spottedpaw, who were the youngest of the apprentices, were far, far beneath him. Redpaw hadn’t forgotten that.

But ever since Tigerclaw had gotten his warrior name, he’d stopped bullying the apprentices. Instead he seemed to be intensely focused on becoming the best warrior in the Clan. Someday he’ll probably be leader, Redpaw thought, looking admiringly at the dark brown tabby’s broad shoulders and huge paws.

All three cats who had been on the patrol had dropped their prey on the fresh-kill pile now and were gathered together in the clearing, their faces dark with fury. “I wonder what happened,” Willowpaw meowed softly.

Curious, Redpaw moved closer, approaching Sparrowpelt. “Um, how was the hunt?” he asked his mentor, feeling awkward. “Did you have to sneak up on those starlings, or did you jump—”

“Not now, Redpaw,” Sparrowpelt interrupted, turning away. “We have to report to Sunstar.” He hurried toward the leader’s den, Speckletail and Tigerclaw following close behind.

“We’d better get back to work,” Willowpaw mewed, glancing nervously across the clearing at Poppydawn. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Redpaw hesitated, watching Tigerclaw disappear into Sunstar’s den at the bottom of the Highrock. After a few moments, Sunstar’s long-furred ginger face pushed through the lichen that covered the entrance. “Tawnyspots!” he called, and the Clan’s deputy hurried to join the others in the leader’s den.

Something bad must have happened, Redpaw thought, the fur rising along his spine. He glanced around. Maybe they’d seen something scary in the forest, like badgers or foxes. Or maybe Twolegs and their dogs were nearby. Redpaw shivered.

From opposite sides of the clearing, Bluefur and Thistleclaw had raised their heads to gaze thoughtfully toward Sunstar’s den. Every cat thought that Sunstar would pick one of them to be his next deputy when Tawnyspots retired to the elders’ den, and they each paid close attention to what happened between ThunderClan and the other Clans, as if they were preparing themselves.

While a few other faces were also turned with interest toward the Highrock, no cat was watching Redpaw. Willowpaw was dutifully heading back toward the warriors’ den, while Frostpaw and Brindlepaw were busily grooming the elders. Poppydawn was sharing a vole with Rosetail, their heads close together in conversation. She won’t notice if I don’t go straight back to changing bedding, he decided.

Trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping, Redpaw strolled closer to Sunstar’s den, his ears pricked up.

“This is the third time, Sunstar!” Sparrowpelt was yowling.

“You actually caught the RiverClan patrol marking Sunningrocks?” Sunstar demanded, his voice a deep growl.

“It was Owlfur, Softwing, and Ottersplash,” Speckletail confirmed. “We tried to chase them off, but we didn’t want to leave the prey we were carrying.”

“We should have taught them a lesson they wouldn’t forget,” Tigerclaw hissed angrily. “It would be worth it to lose a little prey.”

“We thought that Hailstar listened when we warned him away from Sunningrocks,” Tawnyspots meowed. His mew sounded tired, and Redpaw shifted uncomfortably. The deputy looked sicker every day, ribs showing through his thin, dry coat. “Maybe we should talk to him again. His warriors might be acting without his approval.”

“Enough is enough,” Tigerclaw growled. “We need to stop just talking and show RiverClan that they can’t get away with this.”

“What are you suggesting, Tigerclaw?” Sunstar asked calmly. Redpaw could almost see his leader’s level gaze as he carefully considered each cat’s words.

“We need to fight,” Tigerclaw hissed. There was a scraping sound inside the den, and Redpaw pictured Tigerclaw’s paws flexing, his long, sharp front claws extending and retracting with the big tabby’s anger. “We should attack RiverClan’s camp. Teach them what happens when they mess with ThunderClan.”

“I’m not sure fighting is the best choice,” Tawnyspots argued. “RiverClan has more warriors than we do right now. Do we want to start something on their own territory, knowing we’ll be outnumbered?”

“We’ll bring the apprentices, then,” Tigerclaw replied coolly. “They should have the experience of being in a real battle anyway.”

Redpaw’s whiskers stiffened in surprise. The apprentices? Tigerclaw thinks we should fight RiverClan?

His head spun, and for a moment he lost track of the conversation in Sunstar’s den. He snapped back to attention at the sound of his mentor’s angry voice.

“We can’t take the apprentices into battle!” Sparrowpelt yowled. “They don’t have any real fighting experience!”

“They’re not ready,” Speckletail agreed.

“And they never will be, if they never get to fight,” Tigerclaw mewed. “They need to be properly trained, and facing a battle with another Clan is the only way to learn.”

There was a long silence, and Redpaw pictured the warriors looking to Sunstar for his decision. He might take Frostpaw and Brindlepaw, but Sunstar won’t let Willowpaw and me go, Redpaw thought. He thinks we’re too young to fight. He swallowed hard. Do I even want to fight?

When he dreamed of being a full warrior, Redpaw never imagined a battle. He wanted to hunt and patrol for his Clan. He knew he’d have to fight someday. But not yet.

“We will go to RiverClan,” Sunstar meowed at last. “And we’ll take all four of the warrior apprentices.” Redpaw stiffened in shock.

“But Sunstar—” Sparrowpelt began to object.

“We’re not going to start a war,” Sunstar interrupted firmly. “We’ll go onto their territory with a full force of warriors. We’ll make a show of strength, and remind Hailstar that he’d better stay away from Sunningrocks. That’s it.”

“We’ve done that before,” Tigerclaw objected. “And it only kept RiverClan away for a little while.”

“This time we’ll be asking Hailstar for a promise,” Sunstar pointed out. “Surely he understands that we can’t continue fighting over Sunningrocks forever. If he gives us his word, we can trust him to see that his cats keep it.”

“I don’t think we should take Redpaw and Willowpaw,” Sparrowpelt mewed again. “They’re nowhere near full-grown, and they could get hurt.”

“Frostpaw and Brindlepaw are almost warriors,” Speckletail agreed. “But Redpaw and Willowpaw haven’t had much battle training yet. They’re practically just out of the nursery.”

The fur rose on Redpaw’s shoulders. He might not have learned how to fight yet, but he wasn’t a kit!

“Tigerclaw has a point about the apprentices’ training,” Sunstar meowed. “But Sparrowpelt and Speckletail are right, too. If the apprentices are going to come onto RiverClan’s territory, we need a plan to keep them safe.”

“We could try dividing our forces,” Tawnyspots suggested. “Most of our warriors can approach RiverClan across the river, but another group can come over the bridge from Fourtrees. If there’s a battle, they can attack from behind, when the RiverClan cats are already distracted.”

“And we could keep the apprentices well to the back of that group,” Sunstar mewed thoughtfully. “Along with you, Tigerclaw.”

“I’m the best fighter ThunderClan has!” Tigerclaw yowled, outraged.

“And I’m hoping to frighten RiverClan off without actually starting a fight,” Sunstar replied calmly. “You’re the one who suggested bringing the apprentices, and I think you should be responsible for making sure they come home safely.”

“I’m not their mentor,” Tigerclaw growled, sounding sulky.

“Surely the Clan’s best fighter is the one we need protecting our apprentices,” Sunstar meowed.

There was another long pause, and then Tigerclaw muttered, “Yes, Sunstar.” Redpaw could imagine him dipping his head, his amber eyes stormy with silent frustration.

“We should announce the plan to the Clan,” Sunstar mewed briskly, and Redpaw leaped back from the Highrock before Sunstar could come out of his den and see him eavesdropping.

I’m going to be in a battle! he thought, his heart pounding with excitement.

Then a cold chill ran across his spine, and he felt his tail droop. Redpaw swallowed hard.

I’m going to be in a battle.