Path Оf А Warrior

Chapter Two

“See this?” White-eye asked, angling her face so that Redpaw was looking directly into her cloudy, sightless eye, so different from the sharp yellow one beside it. An old scar knotted its lid. “A badger’s claw caught my face when I was just a kit. One wrong move in a battle can mark you forever. Be careful today, Redpaw.”

Redpaw’s stomach turned over. “Do you really think we’re going to fight?” he asked, his mew sounding shaky to his own ears.

The pale-gray she-cat twitched her whiskers thoughtfully. “I don’t see how we can avoid it,” she replied. “Sunstar told Hailstar that the RiverClan cats had better stay away from Sunningrocks. Now that they’re coming back again, I think ThunderClan will have to fight.” She sighed. “I just wish I could help. I hate being useless.”

“Well, having kits is really, um, important, too,” Redpaw mewed awkwardly, glancing at the she-cat’s rounded sides.

“Thanks, Redpaw.” White-eye dipped her head, her mew a little lighter. “Just don’t rush into the fight today, okay? Let the warriors handle it.”

“Are you trying to scare my apprentice?” An amused meow came from behind them, and Redpaw jumped, then licked his chest fur in embarrassment. I’m not scared.

White-eye turned her muzzle up toward Sparrowpelt’s and purred. “I only want you both to be careful,” she mewed. “My kits will need their father.”

Sparrowpelt rubbed his cheek against hers, closing his eyes, and Redpaw averted his gaze.

“I’ll just … be over there … ,” he said uncomfortably. Redpaw turned his back and hurried away, not stopping until he was almost to the fresh-kill pile.

He took a deep breath. Now that he was away from Sparrowpelt and White-eye, his embarrassment went away and his pelt prickled nervously as he thought about what White-eye had said. One wrong move in a battle can mark you forever.

Nearby, Stormtail was giving Brindlepaw some last-minute advice. “Now remember,” the tom instructed, “if they get you on your back, slash your hind paws up at your opponent’s belly just like I showed you. Don’t be afraid to use your claws.”

Redpaw swallowed hard, panic spiking through him. I haven’t even learned that move yet!

Sunstar strode to the center of the clearing and yowled for attention. “It’s time for us to confront RiverClan,” he announced. “Bluefur will be leading the apprentices and their mentors, as well as Tigerclaw, to approach the RiverClan camp across the Twoleg bridge. Lionheart and Goldenflower will be staying behind to defend our camp.” The large golden tom and his smaller ginger sister exchanged disappointed glances but bowed their heads in agreement.

“Every other warrior, take the herbs that our medicine cats have for you; then we will go. Remember, right now we’re just giving them a warning. No cat is to attack unless I give the order or RiverClan attacks first.”

Featherwhisker and Spottedpaw moved between the warriors, giving out herbs. Spottedpaw came to Redpaw and dropped a small packet at his paws. “For strength,” she explained, and Redpaw dipped his head to lap them up, grimacing at their sharp taste.

Once each warrior and apprentice had finished their herbs, Sunstar paced to the camp’s entrance. “Follow me!” he yowled.

The warriors streamed out of camp behind their leader. Their tails were held high and their eyes were bright and eager. Redpaw watched them go, his stomach sour with nervousness. What’s wrong with me? I want to be a warrior. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why am I afraid to fight?

“What’s got your tail in a twist?” Tigerclaw had stopped beside him and was looking at Redpaw curiously.

“White-eye was talking to me about how she lost her eye,” Redpaw explained reluctantly. “She said that one wrong move can mark you forever, and she told me to hang back and let the warriors fight.”

Tigerclaw’s tail flicked dismissively. “White-eye’s just jealous because she’s chosen to have kits instead of fighting for her Clan,” he meowed coolly. “Don’t let her discourage you. She can’t fight right now, but your best warrior days are just beginning.”

They are? Redpaw’s pelt tingled. He liked the idea of becoming a strong warrior more than he did the idea of needing to be protected.

Tigerclaw was so confident. If he thought Redpaw was well on his way to being a strong warrior, he was probably right. Warmth spread through Redpaw’s chest.

“The best warriors don’t try to avoid a fight,” Tigerclaw went on. He slid out his sharp claws and raked the ground with one paw, leaving long deep lines in the dirt. “If RiverClan tries to argue with us, I’ll attack. We can’t hesitate if we want them to respect us.”

Redpaw knew that what Tigerclaw was saying was reckless: They should be waiting for Sunstar’s commands. But he couldn’t help the warm curl of admiration that ran through him. He’s so brave.

Redpaw watched as his father, Adderfang, disappeared through the gorse tunnel, the last of the warriors following Sunstar.

“Apprentices and mentors! Tigerclaw! With me!” Bluefur called. Her apprentice, Frostpaw, was standing beside her, wide-eyed.

Sparrowpelt touched noses with White-eye one more time, then turned away. “Come on, Redpaw,” he meowed as he strode toward Bluefur.

Redpaw’s eyes met his sister Spottedpaw’s again. She was standing outside the medicine cat’s den with Featherwhisker, her tail lashing excitedly. “Good luck, Redpaw!” she yowled. “Good luck, Willowpaw!” Waving his own tail to her in farewell, Redpaw took a deep breath and followed Sparrowpelt out of camp.

Bluefur took the lead, Sparrowpelt and Poppydawn side by side behind her. Stormtail followed with his apprentice, Brindlepaw, beside him, her sister Frostpaw eagerly chattering to them both. “Do you think we’ll see any of the RiverClan cats actually swimming?” Redpaw overheard her asking.

Willowpaw fell into step beside Redpaw as they paced through the forest, and Tigerclaw brought up the rear of the patrol. Recently fallen leaves crunched beneath their paws, and sunlight came between the trees’ branches, making bright patches on the forest floor. Redpaw shivered suddenly, only partly because of the leaf-fall chill in the air.

Willowpaw shot him a sharp glance. “Are you scared?” she whispered.

“A little bit,” Redpaw admitted, keeping his voice low so that Tigerclaw wouldn’t hear.

“Don’t worry,” Willowpaw told him. “Remember, we’re just delivering a warning to RiverClan. And if something does happen, we’re not alone. We’ve got the whole Clan; we’ve got Sparrowpelt and Poppydawn looking out for us… .” She pushed closer, her fur brushing his, and whispered even more quietly, “And Tigerclaw thinks he’s the best warrior in the whole forest. He won’t let us get hurt. It wouldn’t be good for his reputation.”

While the rest of the warriors headed straight for the RiverClan camp, Bluefur led her patrol up past the Owl Tree and close to Fourtrees before turning and following the river toward the Twoleg bridge.

“This is a waste of time,” Tigerclaw muttered. “We should be attacking the camp, not wandering around at the edge of RiverClan’s territory.”

“Sunstar wants us to come from this direction,” Bluefur mewed sharply. “And we’re not planning to fight unless we have to.” The blue-gray she-cat looked preoccupied, her eyes searching the open plains of RiverClan’s territory as if there was something she was expecting, or hoping, to see. Tigerclaw narrowed his amber eyes at her balefully, but said nothing.

As Redpaw followed Frostpaw onto the bridge, he wrinkled his nose at the sharp, unnatural Twoleg scent. It smelled strange.

They were only a few paces across when a cry sounded in the distance. Stormtail’s head shot up. “That’s Smallear,” he meowed. “They’re fighting.”

Another agonized yowl made all the cats flinch. “Dappletail,” Bluefur observed tensely. “It sounds like she’s in trouble.”

“Come on!” Tigerclaw yowled. He began to run, easily shouldering past the apprentices. Redpaw tensed, running after him, the surface of the Twoleg bridge hard beneath his paws.

Tigerclaw was side by side with Bluefur at the front of the patrol when a sudden harsh screech came from above. A huge brown shape blocked out the sun, swooping down at them. Panicked, Redpaw dodged backward, but Bluefur and Tigerclaw were on their hind legs, their claws extended, swiping at the brown thing above them, which Redpaw could now see was feathered—a bird!

“Protect the apprentices!” Stormtail yowled, and the other warriors began aiming sharp-clawed blows at the bird, too.

The bird screeched again and rose out of their reach. Its yellow eyes glared at them beadily, and its tawny wings were spread wide. A hawk! Redpaw realized. Sparrowpelt had told him how dangerous the huge birds could be. “They’ll carry a kit off to eat if they can,” he remembered his mentor saying. “Or even a lone full-grown cat, but they’re no match for a whole patrol.” They’d attack smaller cats, Redpaw remembered, ones they could lift in their claws. He gulped, flinching. He and Willowpaw were the smallest cats here.

“Bunch together,” Poppydawn instructed, and Sparrowpelt and Stormtail hurried back toward the apprentices, herding them into a smaller, tighter group.

Redpaw couldn’t take his eyes off the hawk circling above them. Its long, sharp talons and the cruel curve of its beak looked horribly dangerous. He realized just how exposed they were on the bridge, with nothing between them and the vicious bird, no trees or bushes to shelter beneath.

“Run!” Bluefur yowled. She pointed her tail toward a small grove of birch trees near the far end of the bridge. “Get under those trees!”

Warm pelts brushed against Redpaw’s as the rest of the patrol began to run. Redpaw wanted to run with them, but he felt as if his paws were stuck to the Twoleg bridge. He crouched low, panting. I have to run.

He couldn’t run.

He looked up just as the hawk swooped lower, its huge wings fully extended. Redpaw backed away quickly, his paws scrabbling against the hard surface of the bridge. The space between him and the rest of the patrol widened.

I’m going the wrong way!

Everything was slowing down, everything except for Redpaw’s heart, which was beating faster and faster. He gasped for air, his paws feeling too slow and heavy to lift.

“Redpaw!” Willowpaw wailed from the other end of the bridge. The others had noticed at last that he hadn’t run with them. He’d been left behind.

If I run now, maybe I can still get away.

But the hawk was circling above him now, coming lower and lower. Redpaw could see the bright gleam of its beady eyes. He cringed back, flattening his body against the bridge.

“Run, Redpaw!” Sparrowpelt yowled. He and Tigerclaw were racing back toward Redpaw, their long strides eating up the distance between them, but the hawk was closer. It dived toward him, its talons extended. Redpaw couldn’t breathe.

A hawk will go for a lone cat.

And, with nothing to hide him from the diving hawk, Redpaw had never felt so alone.