The Apprentice's Quest (22 page)

Alderpaw couldn't decide whether the big tom's voice was hopeful or amused, but either way, he wasn't sure he liked it.
I've heard enough,
he thought, turning back toward the den.

But as he turned, his paw dislodged a pebble that clinked against another. Needlepaw and Rain both swiveled around to stare at him.

“Who's that?” Rain asked sharply.

“Only me,” Alderpaw mumbled. “I . . . er . . . I just came out to make dirt.”

Not waiting for any comment, he scampered off into the darkness, panting hard as he reached the den where his Clanmates still slept peacefully. His hopeful feelings had evaporated, the flutter in his chest replaced by a heavy weight that seemed to be pushing from the inside, trying to force him to the ground.

Alderpaw crawled out of the den
the next morning feeling so exhausted that he could hardly put one paw in front of another. Pondering how he could return the SkyClan cats to Clan life, when they obviously had no idea what it meant to be a warrior, had kept him awake all night, and so had the ache in his chest after he'd heard Needlepaw talking to Rain.

“I think we should hunt,” Molewhisker announced when all the questing cats had emerged from the den and sat grooming themselves at the waterside. “It's no use expecting to eat with the SkyClan cats.”

“Let's do that,” Cherryfall agreed. “I can't wait to get out of this StarClan-forsaken gorge.”

“Oh, I don't know.” Needlepaw yawned, showing a mouthful of spiky teeth. “It's not so bad when you get used to it.”

“You stay, then,” Sparkpaw snapped, and added under her breath, “No cat asked you to come with us anyway.”

“That's enough,” Molewhisker meowed, rising to his paws and speaking with authority. “Needlepaw, you can do what you want. The rest of us are going to hunt.”

“It looks like there's thicker forest on the other side of the
river,” Cherryfall pointed out. “Let's go that way.”

Few of the SkyClan cats were around, and none of them tried to stop the ThunderClan cats as Molewhisker led the way across the pile of rocks. Alderpaw stumbled along in the rear, convinced that he would be even worse at hunting when he could scarcely keep his eyes open.

But when he found himself under the trees, Alderpaw revived a little. It felt good to have damp earth and leaf mold beneath his paws again, and to catch glimpses of sky between crisscrossing branches. The leaves were beginning to turn brown and gold, and for the first time Alderpaw realized that leaf-fall was almost upon them.

Cherryfall and Sparkpaw headed off together, while Molewhisker turned to Alderpaw. “Do you want to hunt with me?” he asked.

Alderpaw shook his head. “Er . . . no, thanks.” He couldn't bear having his former mentor watch him fail again. “I'll just practice on my own.”

“Okay. I'll see you back in camp.” Molewhisker pushed his way through a clump of bracken and vanished.

Once his sound and scent had died away, Alderpaw slid deeper into the forest, his ears pricked and his jaws parted to pick up the first traces of prey. Soon he heard a chirping sound from above, along with the rustling of leaves and the flutter of wings. Looking up, he spotted a thrush perched on the branch of a nearby tree.

Alderpaw's belly rumbled, and he realized how hungry he was. He had barely eaten anything since he and his friends
had arrived in the gorge two days before. He wondered if he would be in trouble if he caught the bird for himself instead of taking it back to camp, then reminded himself that he wasn't in ThunderClan now.
I'm not going to eat with SkyClan, the way they shove the kits and elders around.

He stalked the thrush as it fluttered deeper into the forest; then, keeping two trees back, he scrambled up the trunk of a beech tree and out onto a branch. He tried to remember everything he had been taught before he'd been told he was a terrible hunter and would be much better off as a medicine cat.

Best not to think about that,
he decided.
It's just a small bird. I can do this.

Creeping forward stealthily, Alderpaw managed to cross into the tree where the thrush was perching. It seemed to be unaware of him. He was bunching his muscles to pounce when another cat exploded upward from the forest floor in a massive leap. Its forepaws were outstretched to grab the bird, but it missed by a mouse-length. With a yowl of rage the cat fell backward, tumbling back to the ground. The thrush, startled, flew away.

“Fox dung!” Alderpaw hissed.

The strange cat—a ragged, skinny gray tom—scrambled to his paws and glared up at Alderpaw. “It's your fault I missed it!” he snarled. “Didn't you see I was already stalking it? You made me rush.”

But Alderpaw had forgotten all about the thrush. Now that he got a clear sight of the newcomer, he was too stunned to do anything but stare.
This is one of the cats from my vision!

He remembered seeing the gray tom in the circle of cats who had watched the ceremony when Leafstar had made a new warrior. But then he had been a healthy Clan cat with a glossy pelt. Now he looked just like a mangy rogue, all his ribs showing through matted fur.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“My name's Mistfeather,” the cat replied roughly. “What's it to you?”

Cautiously, never taking his gaze from the gray tom, Alderpaw climbed down the tree trunk. Keeping his distance so that Mistfeather wouldn't think he was looking for a fight, he dipped his head politely.

“Greetings,” he mewed. “I'm sorry about the thrush. My name is Alderpaw, and I come from ThunderClan.”

The gray tom's eyes widened in a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “ThunderClan!” he exclaimed. “Then you must know Firestar. I wasn't born when he came to restore my Clan, but his story was told at every full moon upon the Skyrock. We honored him above all cats.”

Alderpaw felt as if every hair on his pelt was rising in excitement. He opened his jaws to tell Mistfeather that Firestar was dead, then decided this wasn't the moment. Instead he asked, “Were you exiled from your Clan?”

The gray tom stared back at him. “Was
I
exiled?” he asked, bitterness invading his tone. “No,
I
wasn't. It was the whole Clan!”

“What do you mean?” Alderpaw asked, staring at him incredulously.

Mistfeather beckoned him nearer with a twitch of his tail. Alderpaw sat among the roots of the tree where he had stalked the thrush, and the gray tom crouched close beside him.

“You've met those cats in the gorge, right?” Mistfeather began. “I bet they let you think they were SkyClan, but they're not. They're vicious rogues who attacked the real SkyClan and took our territory for themselves.”

Alderpaw's first reaction was a profound relief.
I knew there was something wrong about those cats. They're not a Clan at all! No wonder they don't know how to behave!
But he was also surprised to hear that such a terrible fate had come to SkyClan.
Is this what my visions were trying to tell me? That SkyClan has been exiled and needs my help?

“Where did the rogues come from?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” Mistfeather replied. “And I have no idea what rules they follow—if they follow any at all. They're evil!”

In the wake of his relief, doubts began to creep into Alderpaw's mind. “Surely a whole Clan should have been able to fight them off?”

Mistfeather couldn't meet his gaze; his whiskers drooped in shame. “Times had been hard for us, and to tell you the truth, we had as many daylight-warriors as we did cats who lived all the time in the gorge.”

“Daylight-warriors?” Alderpaw asked, mystified.

“Cats who came to hunt and train with us warriors during the day,” Mistfeather explained. “Then at night they would go back to their Twolegs.”

“You mean they were
kittypets
?” Alderpaw was so outraged
that he could hardly get the words out. “You let
kittypets
into your Clan?”

“It worked for us,” Mistfeather mewed defensively. “And the daylight-warriors were brave and worthy Clanmates, but the rogues attacked at night when they were with their housefolk, so we were terribly outnumbered.”

“And the rogues won.”

Mistfeather nodded. “We were trying to protect one another, not kill our enemies, and it's easy to defeat cats who do that.”

“So where did the rest of your Clan go?” Alderpaw asked, glancing around as if he expected more cats to emerge from the undergrowth.

“I don't know,” Mistfeather told him. “We all scattered. I'm the only one left here, and I have no idea how many of the others survived, or where they might be.”

“Why did you stay?”

Deep grief flooded into Mistfeather's amber eyes. “My mate was killed in the battle. I decided that I'd rather live as a loner in the place where she died than leave to look for new territory.”

Alderpaw's heart clenched with pity and fury.
Everything makes sense now!
Guilt tore at him like a fox's fangs as he realized that his vision had been real. SkyClan had needed help, but he and his friends had come too late.

“That's why the cats in the gorge don't act like a Clan,” he murmured half to himself. “It's because they're
not
a Clan. They're just rogues who pounced on a group of cats when they
were vulnerable. They're no better than thieves.”

“What do you know about it?”

The harsh voice came from behind Alderpaw; he sprang up and whirled around to see Darktail standing a fox-length away, a sneer on his face. His unsettling blue gaze showed almost no emotion as he regarded Alderpaw and Mistfeather.

“It seems you've met one of the dregs of the gorge,” he meowed to Alderpaw. “Somehow he's still alive! And it sounds like you're plotting against
my
cats.”

Alderpaw backed away until he had the trunk of the tree behind him. His gaze flickered to and fro, hoping that some of his Clanmates might be nearby. But there was no sound or scent of them. In the dark shadows cast by the trees, Darktail seemed to be twice his size.
I'll have to think fast to get out of this.

But weariness and hunger seemed to have made Mistfeather mouse-brained. Lurching to his paws, he arched his back and hissed at Darktail. “You're a filthy rogue who stole territory!”

“Territory belongs to those strong enough to defend it—or to
take
it,” Darktail pointed out, unmoved. “If SkyClan couldn't dig their claws into the land they claimed as theirs, they have nothing to complain about. And if you want to stake your claim, Mistfeather, do you want to fight me for the territory right here, right now?”

Alderpaw's outrage almost choked him.
Can't Darktail see that Mistfeather is in no state to fight any cat?

But the exiled cat puffed up his fur and slid out his claws, drawing his lips back in a snarl. “Do your worst, Darktail!”

Alderpaw started forward to place himself between the two cats, but Mistfeather waved him back with a sweep of his tail.

“Stay back!” he hissed. “A fight is a fight.”

No, it'll be a slaughter,
Alderpaw thought, as reluctantly he stepped back.

Mistfeather lunged forward, aiming a blow at Darktail, but the rogue leader slipped aside easily and raked his claws down the back of Mistfeather's head.

“You'll need to be faster than that!” he taunted the gray tom.

Undaunted, Mistfeather spun around and launched himself at the rogue leader again, but Darktail avoided the second blow as easily as the first. Mistfeather's breath was already coming in ragged, wheezing gasps. He staggered and almost fell as Darktail thrust him off contemptuously with one paw.

Alderpaw couldn't help admiring Mistfeather's courage. As he watched the one-sided fight, he recognized some skillful fighting moves, and he realized that the SkyClan cat would have been a formidable opponent if only he'd had the strength.

Mistfeather scrabbled around and charged at Darktail again and again, but each time the rogue sidestepped clear of his feeble swipes and landed a strike of his own. Soon blood was trickling down Mistfeather's sides, and tufts of his fur littered the forest floor.

At last Mistfeather was completely spent, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. Darktail padded slowly up to him
and stood over him. Mistfeather raised one forepaw to strike at him, but the movement was slow and listless. Darktail easily swatted the paw aside. Alderpaw's muscles tightened with foreboding as he saw the real SkyClan cat sink to the ground, exhausted and defenseless.

“Stupid mange-pelt,” Darktail growled. “You should have stayed away.”