River Of Fire

CHAPTER 4

“No, no, no! Let’s try that exercise again,” Sparkpelt meowed. “You should be rearing up on your hind legs, then a double slash with your forepaws. Keep your claws sheathed for now.”

That’s exactly what I am doing. Twigpaw suppressed a sigh. She had been doing battle training since dawn with Finpaw and Larksong, and she was bored. I learned all this in my first apprenticeship, she thought resentfully. I’ve known how to do it for moons! Why do I have to go through it all again?

“Twigpaw!” Sparkpelt’s annoyed voice dragged Twigpaw away from these dark thoughts. “When you’re quite ready . . .”

Trying to work up some enthusiasm for the basic exercise Larksong was teaching Finpaw, Twigpaw reared up on her hind legs and aimed two swift blows at the empty air.

“Hmm . . . not bad,” Sparkpelt grunted as Twigpaw landed on all four paws again.

Not bad? It was perfect!

Twigpaw suspected that Sparkpelt’s grudging praise was because she was still upset at having been made Twigpaw’s mentor. But we would get along better if she didn’t insist on training with Larksong and Finpaw the whole time. I wish she would teach me something I don’t know!

Twigpaw wondered when Sparkpelt would get past the fact that she had switched Clans more than once. Twigpaw could understand that might have seemed a bit disrespectful of ThunderClan, and of the warrior code, but she felt different now—older and wiser—than when she was a kit, or when she was going through her first apprenticeship with Ivypool. She was certain that her place was as a ThunderClan warrior.

I’m just going to have to prove it to the rest of the Clan.

Twigpaw watched as Finpaw went through the exercise, and listened to Larksong instructing him on how to use his tail for balance, something the young cat had found difficult ever since the accident when he had lost part of it. Twigpaw knew that she could have repeated the instructions word for word, and when she practiced the move, she automatically flicked her tail into the right place.

This is so frustrating! I wonder if Sparkpelt is doing it deliberately, to test my commitment.

“Twigpaw!” Sparkpelt’s voice was harsher still, and Twigpaw had to stop herself from bristling at the emphasis on her apprentice status. “When you’ve finished staring at that tree like a moonstruck rabbit, maybe you could try the exercise again?”

Twigpaw sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

Back in camp just after sunhigh, Twigpaw went to fetch herself a piece of prey and noticed that there was hardly anything on the fresh-kill pile. She prodded a scrawny mouse and a blackbird that was mostly bones and feathers, but neither of them tempted her. I’m starving! Where are all the hunting patrols?

Glancing around and tasting the air, Twigpaw guessed that most of the Clan was gathered here in camp. She knew that there were fewer cats to hunt now that the sickness was so bad. Some of her Clanmates had begun to recover, but they were still too weak and shaky to do more than totter around the camp. At least Squirrelflight had started getting better, though she wasn’t strong enough yet to take up her deputy’s duties.

What if I went out to hunt and brought back some great prey? Maybe that would convince Sparkpelt I’m ready to be made a warrior. It has to be worth a try!

Twigpaw didn’t hang around thinking. When she glanced around again, she saw that the cats who were in sight seemed more concerned with snoozing and recovering their strength than watching what one unimportant apprentice was doing. Sparkpelt and Larksong had both disappeared into the warriors’ den, and Twigpaw couldn’t see Finpaw at all.

However, Thornclaw was on guard at the entrance of the tunnel, sitting there with ears pricked alertly. Twigpaw didn’t want to explain herself to him. It wasn’t forbidden for apprentices to go out of camp on their own, but Thornclaw might ask if she had permission from her mentor, and she didn’t want to lie to a senior warrior.

Instead Twigpaw headed for the dirtplace tunnel, picked her way around the dirtplace with her nose wrinkled, then slid quietly into the undergrowth and away from the camp.

She was beginning to relax, thinking she had gotten away with it, when a cheerful voice behind her mewed, “Where are you creeping off to?”

Twigpaw whirled around to see Finpaw standing a tail-length away, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Go back to camp, and don’t tell any cat that you saw me.”

Even while she was speaking, Twigpaw realized that Finpaw wasn’t going to listen. The young brown tom scampered around her, his voice squeaking in excitement. “Are you going on an adventure? Can I come?”

Twigpaw sighed. She should have known from the beginning that there would be no getting rid of Finpaw. Besides, she thought, if I bring back prey and look after an apprentice, it’ll prove that I’m a real warrior.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Just stop making that racket. You’ll scare off all the prey in the forest.”

“Is that it?” Finpaw lowered his voice, to Twigpaw’s relief. “Are we going hunting? Cool!”

He padded at Twigpaw’s side as they headed deeper into the forest, taking care to set his paws down lightly. The forest was cool and shady under a covering of cloud, with here and there a brighter patch where the sun was struggling to break through. Twigpaw kept halting to taste the air, alert for prey and also for cat-scent; she didn’t want to risk meeting any of her Clanmates.

Finpaw spotted prey first: a mouse scrabbling around in the debris at the foot of an oak tree. He dropped into the hunter’s crouch and crept up on it, but just before he was close enough to pounce, he put one paw down on a dead leaf. The crackling sound alerted the mouse, which darted toward the shelter of the oak roots.

“Mouse dung!” Finpaw exclaimed.

But Twigpaw had been watching, and was ready. With a massive leap she hurled herself on top of the mouse and slapped a forepaw down on it, cutting off its squeak of terror.

“Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” she mewed.

“Hey, great catch!” Finpaw padded up and sniffed the mouse. “Sorry I missed it.”

“It’s not a problem.” Twigpaw touched his ear with her nose. “We make a good team.”

The two cats went on hunting. When she had caught another mouse and a shrew, Twigpaw dug a hole and buried her prey, ready for her to collect later. My idea’s working well, she thought. Sparkpelt will be really impressed!

Looking around, she realized that they were close to the WindClan border. “Maybe we should go as far as the stream,” she suggested to Finpaw. “We might even be lucky and find more watermint.”

Finpaw agreed, but before they had gone much farther, Twigpaw spotted a squirrel climbing down the trunk of an ash tree and set off across an open stretch of ground just ahead. It was taking its time, bobbing along for a few paw steps, then stopping to sit upright with its tail curled upward. Clearly it was unaware of the two cats.

Twigpaw angled her ears toward the squirrel. “Stay back and stay quiet,” she murmured to Finpaw.

Eyes bright, Finpaw nodded enthusiastically.

Twigpaw began to follow the squirrel, creeping forward with her belly brushing the grass. The gap between her and the squirrel grew narrower. But before she could reach her prey, the squirrel sat upright. Twigpaw gritted her teeth with annoyance as she realized the breeze had shifted, carrying her scent toward it.

In the next heartbeat the squirrel pelted for the nearest tree, its tail streaming out behind it. With a yowl of frustration, Twigpaw followed. Her muscles bunched and stretched as she tried to force every last scrap of speed out of her legs.

The squirrel reached the tree and fled up the trunk. Twigpaw was running so fast that she couldn’t stop. Her legs carried her on for a few more strides; then suddenly there was nothing under her paws anymore. She let out a screech as she fell into cold water, and the current closed over her head.

For a moment Twigpaw thrashed helplessly, trying to get to her paws as she was bumped along the bottom of the stream. Then her head broke the surface. She couldn’t see much for the water in her eyes, but a green blur loomed up beside her, and she reached out with both forepaws.

Her claws caught in the gritty soil of the bank, and with a massive effort Twigpaw hauled herself out of the water and scrabbled her way upward until she could collapse, choking and gasping, on level ground.

For a moment Twigpaw lay there, eyes closed, catching her breath. Then, at a distance, she heard Finpaw calling, “Twigpaw! Twigpaw!”

“I’m okay . . . ,” she managed to choke out.

Much closer, another voice meowed, “What are you doing here?”

Twigpaw opened her eyes. At first all she could see were paws: gray paws, standing around her in a half circle. Her gaze traveled upward, and her heart lurched as she recognized a WindClan patrol: Featherpelt with Emberfoot and his apprentice, Smokepaw. All three of them looked hostile, with bristling fur and claws extended.

Oh, StarClan! I’ve come out on WindClan territory!

“What are you doing here?” Featherpelt repeated.

“I’m sorry,” Twigpaw gasped. “I didn’t mean to be here.”

She staggered to her paws and wanted to shake the water out of her pelt, but she realized in time that if she did that she would shower the WindClan patrol. And I don’t suppose they’d be pleased with me, she thought, frustrated at having to put up with her wet pelt.

“Your clumsiness cost us prey,” Emberfoot hissed. “We were stalking a pigeon, but when you made all that noise falling in, it flew away.”

I’ll try to fall in quietly next time, Twigpaw thought, but all she dared to say aloud was “Sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ fills no bellies,” Featherpelt snapped. “And what are two apprentices doing out here anyway, so far from camp and without your mentors?”

Twigpaw glanced across the stream to see Finpaw standing there, his eyes huge and worried. She wished he had hidden himself in the undergrowth, so that he wouldn’t be in trouble too.

At first she wasn’t sure how to answer Featherpelt’s question. She wasn’t sure if she ought to admit that she and Finpaw were hunting, but also she didn’t want to suggest that ThunderClan mentors were so careless that apprentices could just wander off without them knowing. It makes ThunderClan look so bad. . . . It’s not the way for me to earn my warrior name.

“Uh, we . . . we just went out for a bit and got distracted,” she stammered at last.

Even while she spoke, she felt a stab of fury at looking like a dumb apprentice in the hope that the WindClan cats would let them go.

But at least her tactic seemed to work. Featherpelt’s claws slid back, and her fur smoothed out. Emberfoot and Smokepaw both took a pace back, though they kept a wary gaze on Twigpaw.

“In that case,” Featherpelt meowed, “we’ll escort you back to the ThunderClan camp. Just to make sure that you don’t get distracted again.”

“There’s no need!” Twigpaw protested, thoroughly alarmed. “We’ll go straight back, I promise.”

“No, I think your Clan leader needs to know what you’ve been up to,” Featherpelt responded with a dismissive wave of her tail. “Emberfoot, you come with me. Smokepaw, go back to camp and tell Harestar what happened. Meet me back here, and we’ll carry on hunting.”

The apprentice dashed off through the trees, while Featherpelt and Emberfoot padded farther upstream to a place where the stream was narrow enough to leap across. Twigpaw was forced to go with them.

Anger and shame burned through her as she and Finpaw made their way back through the forest, firmly escorted by the two WindClan warriors.

What will Bramblestar say to us? she asked herself. And Sparkpelt? Oh, great StarClan, could this be any worse? She was frustrated, too, that she had no chance to pick up the prey she had caught earlier. It’ll be crow-food by the time I can go back for it!

Thornclaw was still on guard when Twigpaw and the others arrived back at the stone hollow. He leaped to his paws as he saw the WindClan cats. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, sliding out his claws.

Featherpelt dipped her head politely, not reacting to his challenging tone or the hostile stares of the other ThunderClan cats who began to gather around. “We would like to speak to your Clan leader, please,” she mewed.

Berrynose immediately broke away from the crowd and raced across the camp to the tumbled rocks. Thornclaw waved his tail, allowing the WindClan cats to advance a few paces farther into the camp, while the rest of the Clan waited in a ragged circle around them.

Now that she was standing still, Twigpaw could feel the cold seeping into her wet pelt, and she started to shiver. She hoped none of the other cats thought it was because she was scared. Finpaw brushed his pelt against hers and murmured into her ear, “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Twigpaw wished she could share his boundless optimism.

She felt as if she had been waiting for moons before Bramblestar thrust his way through the cluster of cats and stood in front of her. “What’s going on?” he asked the WindClan cats. “Why are you here?”

“We brought these apprentices back,” Featherpelt explained, dipping her head respectfully. “This one,” she added, angling her ears toward Twigpaw, “fell into the border stream and pulled herself out on our side. I know she didn’t mean to trespass, but she cost us a catch.”

“It was an accident,” Twigpaw defended herself as Bramblestar turned his amber gaze on her.

“I know that,” Featherpelt meowed, “but she could have got herself into serious trouble. Some of our warriors might not have been as lenient as Emberfoot and I. Or suppose she had strayed onto RiverClan territory. . . .”

That’s mouse-brained, Twigpaw thought, beginning to bristle. We don’t even have a border with RiverClan. And I barely made it onto WindClan territory, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s all so unfair!

However, she had the sense to keep her mouth shut as Bramblestar listened calmly to what the WindClan warrior was telling him. His expression was unreadable, unnerving Twigpaw even more, as he thanked Featherpelt for her courtesy.

“I’ll make sure my cats respect the boundaries better,” he promised. “And if the next ThunderClan hunting party happens to catch prey close to the border, they’ll bring some of it to WindClan to prove our goodwill.”

Twigpaw’s belly lurched as she listened, and she kept her gaze fixed on her paws. She didn’t dare to look up; she could feel the gazes of her Clanmates boring into her for costing them food.

She heard the WindClan cats saying their farewells, then felt Bramblestar’s tail flick her shoulder.

“Come to my den, Twigpaw,” the Clan leader meowed. “You and I need to talk.”

Twigpaw’s heart sank right down into her paws. Being scolded by Sparkpelt was one thing; it was ten times worse to be scolded by the Clan leader. Her paws felt like heavy stones as she toiled up the tumbled rocks and followed Bramblestar into his den.

“You may be an apprentice, Twigpaw,” he began, sitting down at the edge of his nest. “But you’re old enough and experienced enough not to make this kind of mistake. What’s going on with you?”

Every word sliced through Twigpaw like a blow from unsheathed claws. She would rather Bramblestar had growled at her instead of speaking in the calm and weary voice that he was using now.

“I’m sorry,” she mewed. “It really was an accident.”

“But you and Finpaw shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Bramblestar responded. “Come on, Twigpaw, tell me what the problem is. I know you sacrificed a lot to come back to ThunderClan, so you must want to be here. Why are you finding it so hard to settle in?”

Twigpaw sighed, and decided this was the moment to tell the truth. If the Clan leader will listen to me, things might get a whole lot better.

“Training is . . . a challenge,” she admitted, “because Sparkpelt insists on training me at the same level as Finpaw. I understand,” she added in a rush, “and it’s perfectly fine. I don’t expect special treatment. But—”

“But that is a little strange,” Bramblestar interrupted. “You’ve been an apprentice twice before. It seems like a waste of your time and Sparkpelt’s to teach you the basics.” His gaze grew thoughtful. “I’ll talk to Sparkpelt about it,” he promised. “Is there anything else that’s bothering you?”

Twigpaw was silent for a moment, but she couldn’t go on trying to push her worries aside. “The prophecy!” she blurted out.

Bramblestar’s gaze lightened; for a moment he looked almost amused. “What prophecy?” he asked.

“I know Alderheart believes that StarClan wants there to be five Clans,” Twigpaw replied. “And with ShadowClan gone and RiverClan having closed its borders, there are only three. I’m worried that terrible things will happen to ThunderClan if we don’t do something.”

Bramblestar was silent for several heartbeats, just looking at her, a bemused expression on his face. “It isn’t a warrior’s job—much less an apprentice’s—to worry about StarClan’s messages,” he mewed gently. “We have medicine cats to interpret StarClan’s meaning for us.” His head tilted to one side. “I remember you hanging around the medicine-cat den with Alderheart when you were a kit,” he continued. “Do you feel you might like to be a medicine cat yourself?”

Not another apprenticeship! Twigpaw thought. Confidently she shook her head. “When I was a kit, I used to think I might like to be a medicine cat,” she replied, “but now I realize I’m much better suited to be a warrior.”

Bramblestar nodded. “I appreciate your concern about the prophecy,” he told her. “It shows you’re a thoughtful and dedicated cat. But ThunderClan can’t tell the other Clans what to do. Unfortunately, ShadowClan is its own problem, and only time will tell what will happen there. Meanwhile,” he went on, “you must focus on being a good apprentice. That is the best way you can serve your Clan. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes!” Twigpaw responded. “I really will do my best.”

“Good,” Bramblestar meowed. “You can go now. Please find Sparkpelt and send her up to me.”

Twigpaw ducked her head and left the den. As she scrambled down the tumbled rocks, she felt a mixture of satisfaction and apprehension. Did I just get my mentor into trouble?

Early the following morning Larksong appeared at the entrance to the nursery to fetch Finpaw for training. Twigpaw followed her fellow apprentice out into the camp, looking around for her mentor.

“Where’s Sparkpelt?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Larksong replied, looking faintly anxious. “She wasn’t in the warriors’ den when I woke up. Perhaps you’d better look for her. Finpaw and I will wait.”

Oh, StarClan! Twigpaw thought, feeling guilty. Surely Bramblestar can’t have sent her away because I complained?

Twigpaw began to scour the camp, sticking her head into the elders’ den, where Graystripe and Millie were still asleep, and into the apprentices’ den, where most of the sick cats were curled up. There was no sign of Sparkpelt.

Then, as Twigpaw was approaching the medicine-cat den, she heard her mentor’s voice raised in a loud and annoyed meow. “I haven’t got time for this! I have an apprentice to train.”

Twigpaw’s ears twitched at Jayfeather’s growl, though she couldn’t make out the words. She brushed past the bramble screen and saw Sparkpelt sitting at the side of the den, licking up some leaves that looked like watermint.

“Twigpaw,” she rasped as she looked up to see her apprentice, “I have this StarClan-cursed sickness. You’ll have to train with Larksong today.”

“And for the next few days,” Jayfeather added. “Now eat the rest of those leaves and get yourself over to the apprentices’ den.”

With an irritated twitch of her whiskers, Sparkpelt obeyed. Her belly heaved, but to Twigpaw’s relief the healing herbs stayed down.

“I’m really sorry,” Twigpaw mewed. “I’ll come and see you later.”

“Thanks,” Sparkpelt growled. Her eyes were glazed and she looked exhausted; she seemed a different cat from the energetic Sparkpelt Twigpaw knew. “Twigpaw,” she added as Twigpaw turned to go, “I’ll give you some more challenging tasks when I recover. But for now, you’ll have to learn what you can with Larksong and Finpaw.”

“I’ll do my best,” Twigpaw promised.

She retreated from the den, dashed across the camp, and joined Larksong and Finpaw, who were waiting beside the entrance to the thorn tunnel.

When she gave them the news, Larksong glanced wistfully at the medicine cats’ den, as if he wanted to see Sparkpelt himself. Then he gave his pelt a shake. “Come on,” he meowed. “Hunting practice this morning.”

Twigpaw prepared to be bored as she followed Larksong and Finpaw into the forest. She tried hard to be patient while Larksong got Finpaw to practice the hunter’s crouch, even though she could see that Finpaw had forgotten all about what he should do with his tail.

Finally she had to speak. “Finpaw, if you keep letting your tail bob up and down, you’ll alert any prey you’re trying to stalk.”

“Oops. Okay, thanks, Twigpaw.” Finpaw tucked his tail in.

“Yes, thank you so much.” Larksong’s voice was heavily sarcastic. “I’m sure I’d never have noticed his tail. I couldn’t possibly have been waiting until I was sure he’d gotten his paws in the right position.” Then he relaxed a little and gave Twigpaw a friendly shove. “Come over here a moment.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “Finpaw, practice by yourself for a bit. Pretend that dead leaf over there is a mouse.”

“What do you want?” Twigpaw asked, as she and Larksong withdrew a few tail-lengths from where Finpaw was busy creeping up on the leaf.

“It’s not helping Finpaw to train with you,” Larksong told her. “You’re much more advanced, and it’s not fair to him. He’s so enthusiastic, and he’ll try to do the things you can do. If he fails, he might get despondent, and that will affect his confidence.”

Do you even know your apprentice? Twigpaw thought. That cat has enough confidence to fill up the stone hollow, and then some!

“I get that,” she meowed to Larksong. “So what do you want me to do?”

“You might as well go back to camp for now,” Larksong decided. “See if the elders need anything, or if you can help the medicine cats.”

Twigpaw dipped her head. “Okay.” As she padded off toward the camp, she heard Finpaw’s voice behind her, raised in a triumphant yowl. “Hey, Larksong, I killed the leaf!”

Back in camp, Twigpaw took fresh-kill to Graystripe and Millie, then looked in on the medicine cats. Sparkpelt had gone to join the other sick cats in the apprentices’ den; Whitewing was still curled up in her nest, though by now Plumkit was getting better and had gone back to her mother in the nursery.

“Hi, do you need me for anything?” she asked the medicine cats.

It was Alderheart who replied. “I don’t think so, right now, thanks. But I’ll call you if we do.”

Disappointed, Twigpaw retreated into the camp again. Her paws itched to be doing something, but she didn’t dare go off by herself to hunt, not after what had happened the day before.

Glancing around, she spotted Lilyheart stretched out on a rock at the side of the stone hollow, and padded over to join her. Lilyheart looked up at her, blinking affectionately.

“Hi, Twigpaw. No training today?”

“No, Sparkpelt is sick,” Twigpaw replied, not wanting to go into all the problems about training with Finpaw.

“Then you can come and talk to me.” Lilyheart gestured with her tail for Twigpaw to join her on the rock.

Twigpaw felt soothed by her welcome. When she had first come to ThunderClan as a tiny kit, Lilyheart had taken her into the nursery and cared for her as her own mother had never had a chance to. Twigpaw still felt a strong bond between them.

At least one cat is happy to see me, she thought, but a pang of grief pierced through her at the memory of when Lilyheart’s mate, Snowbush, had died in a rockslide. I wasn’t even in ThunderClan to comfort her when that happened.

“How are you today?” she asked, remembering that Lilyheart had been one of the first cats to fall ill.

“Better, but it’s a slow job,” her foster mother replied. “I just long to get out into the forest to have a good run and stretch my muscles. But when I get up, I can barely totter over to the fresh-kill pile!”

“Would you like some fresh-kill now?”

Lilyheart shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” Giving Twigpaw a more penetrating look, she added, “But I can see that you’re not. Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Twigpaw hesitated, but her foster mother’s loving gaze encouraged her to speak. “I feel a little restless here in ThunderClan,” she confessed. “I don’t want to leave—far from it—but I’m not sure yet what my place is. I know I’m being stupid, but . . .” She paused again, needing to make sure her voice would be steady. “I guess I expected my Clanmates to be more excited to have me back.”

Lilyheart stretched out her neck to rasp her tongue over Twigpaw’s ear. “You’re not being stupid at all,” she mewed gently. “But, you know, it’s because we all loved you so much that we were so upset when you left. Now I’m happy, because I feel like I have all my kits back with me.”

Twigpaw nuzzled Lilyheart’s shoulder. “It’s Violetshine, too,” she continued. “Things are so strained between us now, and I hate it.”

“She’ll always be your sister,” Lilyheart reminded her.

“Yes, but I wish I had kin here in ThunderClan, too,” Twigpaw meowed. “They would understand me, or at least make things less difficult.”

Lilyheart reached her tail around to touch Twigpaw’s shoulder. “The Clan will trust you again,” she promised. “Maybe you need to prove to yourself that you belong here, instead of proving it to other cats.”

Twigpaw bowed her head and touched noses with Lilyheart, grateful for her foster mother’s wisdom and feeling much better about herself. “Thank you,” she purred.

Just then a triumphant voice rang out from the entrance to the thorn tunnel. “Twigpaw! Look!”

Twigpaw turned to see Finpaw bounding across the camp, a vole dangling from his jaws. Larksong followed more slowly.

“Look!” Finpaw repeated, dropping his vole on the fresh-kill pile. “I caught it all by myself!”

“That’s great!” With a dip of her head toward Lilyheart, Twigpaw raced over to join her friend and inspect his prey. It was a very small vole, but Finpaw looked as proud and excited as if he had brought back the fattest squirrel in the forest.

“Larksong,” he asked his mentor, “please can I share it with Twigpaw?”

Larksong looked almost as delighted as his apprentice. “Of course you can.”

Eyes shining, Finpaw picked the vole up off the fresh-kill pile and settled down with Twigpaw to eat. As she bit into the warm prey, Twigpaw felt a moment of happiness. But she still wondered what she could do to prove herself a loyal ThunderClan cat.