“Just in case any of those violent ruffians are still hanging about.”
Smudge looked down at his messy fur and gave it a few swift licks. Then he and Firestar padded side by side through the trees. As the Twoleg fence came into sight, Firestar spotted a vole pattering through the long grass. He made a swift pounce, and straightened up with the limp body hanging from his jaws; he tried to push down a stirring of pride that he had been able to show off his hunting skills in front of Smudge.
His friend’s eyes were wide, but not with admiration.
“Don’t you ever get tired of having to catch your own food?”
Firestar dropped his fresh-kill and scraped leaves over it so that he could collect it later. “No, never. That’s what warriors do.”
Smudge shrugged, and went on toward his nest. Catching up with him, Firestar spotted another cat, a pretty brown tabby, jumping down from the fence around the Twoleg nest where he had once lived. He remembered seeing her before when he had been showing the territory to his new apprentice, Bramblepaw.
“Hi,” she meowed. Her amber eyes examined Firestar without a trace of fear. “Who’s this, Smudge? I’ve never seen him before.”
Smudge twitched one ear. “His name’s Firestar. He lives in the forest.”
“I’m called Hattie,” the tabby introduced herself. “I’ve never met a forest cat before. How do you know Smudge?”
“I’ve known him since I was a kit,” Firestar explained. “I used to live here, in this Twoleg nest.”
“Really? But this is my home now!” The tabby’s eyes stretched wide. “Why did you leave?”
“It’s a long story.” Firestar didn’t expect any kittypet, even this lively tabby, to understand what had called him out of his safe life with Twolegs to the danger and excitement of the forest.
“I’ve got time to listen,” Hattie meowed.
Firestar was aware of Smudge close beside him, quivering with tension. “Sorry,” he meowed. “Maybe another time.”
Hattie looked disappointed. “Don’t you want to see where you used to live?” she mewed persuasively. “My Twolegs dug up a bush that was so old its roots stretched nearly the whole way across the garden, and planted some new trees that are great for scratching.”
Firestar opened his jaws to refuse, but the words didn’t come. He stood silent, gazing at the fence. An old bush… how old? Suppose it had been here before the Twoleg nests were built? Did that mean it had been here when SkyClan lived in the forest? Were there any other remnants of SkyClan’s former territory that might have survived?
Chapter 7
“Firestar, why are you standing there with your mouth open?”
Smudge asked crossly.
“Sorry.” For a moment Firestar had been caught up in the lost world of SkyClan, gaping as if he expected prey to jump into his jaws. “Okay,” he added to Hattie. “I’ll have a quick look from the fence.” Flicking his tail to draw Smudge a couple of pawsteps away, he murmured, “I won’t be long. This might help with your dreams.”
Smudge looked doubtful, and shot an anxious glance at Hattie.
“Don’t worry; I won’t tell her anything,” Firestar promised.
He sprang up to sit on the fence and looked down into the garden. He remembered the bush now: it had been brittle and straggly, and some of its branches had been leafless. In the place where it had been a new young tree was growing with soft, tempting bark; from his place on the fence Firestar could see Hattie’s claw marks scoring the trunk.
Hattie leaped up beside him and pointed with her tail.
“That’s where the bush used to be, and there’s the scratching tree. And there’s another new one, next to Smudge’s fence, that’s even better.”
Firestar heard scrabbling farther along the fence, and Smudge hauled himself up to sit beside Hattie. “Well, what do you see?” he demanded in a low voice.
“Nothing yet,” Firestar admitted. He studied the Twoleg nests, trying to imagine what this part of the forest would have been like before the trees were cut down.
His eyes narrowed as he glanced up and down the row of nests. Smudge’s nest lay in a slight dip, lower than the others.
If Firestar had been leading a Clan back then, and had to choose a place for a camp, he would have wanted it in a sheltered hollow, perhaps with bramble bushes for extra protection, like the WindClan camp. He drew in a swift breath, feeling every hair on his pelt stand on end. Could Smudge’s nest have been built right on top of the old SkyClan camp?
That might explain why he had been dreaming so vividly about the fleeing cats.
“Smudge,” he began, interrupting a discussion between his friend and Hattie about catmint, “is it okay if I stay with you tonight?”
Smudge blinked in surprise. “Of course. But will it be okay with… with the other cats in your Clan?”
His concern moved Firestar. Smudge might be a kittypet, but he was a true friend. “They’ll be fine, I promise. I just think this will help me figure out, you know, what we were talking about earlier.”
“Oh, I see.” Smudge looked alarmed as he added, “But I’m not sure how easy it’ll be getting you inside the nest.”
“I don’t need to come inside,” Firestar told him. StarClan forbid! “I’ll be fine in the garden, thanks.”
The black-and-white cat nodded. “Okay. Well, come on over.”
“I’ve got to find my Clanmates first and let them know I won’t be back tonight.”
Firestar jumped down from the fence, back into the forest.
Behind him, he heard Hattie meowing inquisitively, “Why does Firestar want to stay in your garden? Why doesn’t he want to stay in mine?”
Firestar raced through the trees until he reached the place where he had last seen his Clanmates. Before he could begin tracking them by scent, Thornclaw appeared from behind a clump of brambles, carrying two mice by their tails.
He dropped his prey in front of Firestar. “I thought you must have gone back to camp.”
“No, something’s come up.” Firestar was reluctant to explain any further. “I won’t be back until tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong,” he added, seeing that Thornclaw was starting to look worried. “Just tell Graystripe that he’s in charge until then.”
“Okay. Cloudtail and I are just about ready to take our prey back.”
Firestar said good-bye and retraced his pawsteps through the trees to the Twoleg nests. There was no sign of Smudge, but Hattie was sitting where he had left her.
“You still haven’t told me how you joined your Clan,” she mewed as Firestar leaped up onto Smudge’s fence. She sounded put out. “Don’t you want to visit your old home properly?”
Firestar didn’t want to upset her, and he was curious to see the place where he had spent the first moons of his life.
Balancing carefully, he walked along the fence to Hattie’s side. “All right, I’ll come for a little while.”
Hattie let out a little trill of pleasure and leaped down into her garden. Firestar followed; his nose twitched at the unfamiliar scents. The flowers seemed to glare at him in the sunlight, and the close-cut grass pricked his pads. Everything seemed familiar and yet strange, as if he were gazing through some other cat’s eyes at something he had never experienced himself.
“Come and have a scratch,” Hattie invited, racing over to the tree and standing on her hind paws to score her claws down the length of the trunk. “It’s really good.” Whirling, she pointed with her tail. “And that’s the bush where birds come hopping after snails. Did they do that when you were here?”
“Yes,” Firestar replied, chasing the vague memory. “Have you ever tried to catch one?”