Sootpaw wrinkled his nose. “It’s really yucky,” he complained. “It hides all the other scents.”
“Right,” meowed Thornclaw. “That means you have to be extra careful.”
With the rest of the patrol following, he picked his way along the edge of the Thunderpath, keeping well away from the huge black paws of the monsters. Firestar felt his fur buffeted by the wind as they passed by.
He helped Thornclaw, Ashfur, and Willowpelt renew the border scent markings, and watched Sootpaw as the apprentice went on practicing his scenting skills. Suddenly the young black cat veered away from the border.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Thornclaw called.
Sootpaw glanced back, eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. “I’ve found a really weird scent,” he explained.
“Well, you can’t follow it now,” Thornclaw told him. “This isn’t a hunting patrol.”
“What sort of weird?” Firestar asked. The reek of the Thunderpath was still blocking out most other scents.
“Strong,” Sootpaw replied. “I’ve never smelled it before.”
Firestar exchanged a glance with Thornclaw. “Okay, let’s follow it.”
This time Sootpaw led the way deeper into the undergrowth, and as they left the Thunderpath behind, Firestar began to pick up the new scent. He halted, his fur prickling.
“Badger!”
“Oh, no!” Willowpelt protested.
Thornclaw snorted. “Just what we need.” Ashfur remained silent, but his blue eyes widened.
“Are badgers bad?” Sootpaw asked.
“Pretty bad,” Ashfur replied.
“We certainly don’t want one on our territory,” Willowpelt agreed.
Firestar remembered one leaf-bare, when snow was on the ground and prey was scarce. Cloudtail had been a kit then, and a hungry badger had attacked him in the ravine. Only swift action from Firestar and Brackenfur had saved him.
Badgers didn’t normally prey on cats, but if they were hungry or scared they made formidable, deadly opponents.
“The scent’s fresh,” he meowed. “We’ll have to follow it to find out where the badger is and whether it’s going to make a den here. Well done, Sootpaw. That was a useful bit of tracking.”
The apprentice’s eyes glowed.
“Firestar’s right,” Thornclaw added. “Now, keep behind me, and let’s go.”
He took the lead, with Sootpaw and Willowpelt hard on his paws. Ashfur followed them, while Firestar brought up the rear, padding along with the strong scent of the badger in his nose. He felt his muscles tensing beneath his fur; he half expected a chunky black-and-white body to come trampling out of the undergrowth.
The trees began to thin out; the badger trail was leading toward Snakerocks. Firestar felt exposed and vulnerable, convinced that small, malevolent eyes were watching him from every thornbush or bramble thicket. This was a bad place for ThunderClan cats. When the dogs were loose in the forest they had made their den at Snakerocks; Swiftpaw had died in their jaws, and Brightheart had received her terrible injuries. Firestar imagined he could still scent the reek of spilled blood.
The tumbled rocks came into view, rising from the center of a clearing where the gritty soil was covered with small creeping plants and seeding grasses.
“Stay here,” Thornclaw instructed Sootpaw, gesturing with his tail toward a sheltered spot at the base of some brambles.
“Don’t move, but give a good loud yowl if you see anything dangerous.”
Sootpaw hesitated, as if he wanted to go on tracking the badger, then went to crouch in the shelter of the brambles with his forepaws tucked under his chest. His gray fur melted into the shadows.
Thornclaw, Willowpelt, and Firestar began to search among the rocks. Firestar paused at the mouth of the den where the dogs had lived, shivers rippling through him from ears to tail tip. He was prepared for the reek of dog to come flowing out of the dark hole, but there was nothing more than a trace of stale fox. Even the fresh badger scent had faded. At first he thought it was because the rocks and thin soil wouldn’t hold the odor for long. But when he explored further, brushing under the low-growing branches of a tree at the edge of the clearing, he realized that the badger hadn’t come this far into the territory. The scent trail had vanished before he reached the rocks.
“Willowpelt? Thornclaw?” he called. “I’ve lost the trail over here.”
He broke off as a fresh whiff of scent reached him. Firestar spun around to see a huge shape, black and yellowish white, rearing up from behind the bramble thicket, its massive paws ready to slam down on the cowering apprentice.
Chapter 9
“Sootpaw! Move!” Firestar yowled.
He sprang forward but he didn’t see how he could reach Sootpaw before the badger swatted him with its blunt, powerful paws.
Then he spotted Willowpelt diving from the top of a rock to streak across the ground and shove Sootpaw out of the way with outstretched forepaws. The badger landed heavily on her back; her shriek was cut off with a sickening crunch as the huge creature snapped her neck. It scooped up her limp body with one paw and tossed it into the clearing.
Sootpaw let out a thin, wailing cry. Firestar flung himself at the badger, snarling as he raked his claws down its side.
The huge striped head turned, snapping at him with gleaming white teeth. Ashfur dashed in from the other side, leaping up to bury his claws in the badger’s neck and fasten his teeth in its ear. It shook him off easily; Ashfur hit the ground and lay still, winded.
Thornclaw crouched in front of the badger, spitting and clawing at its eyes as it loomed over him. Firestar scored its flank again, feeling a fierce satisfaction as blood welled up in the tracks of his claws. The badger let out a bellow of pain. It swung its head from side to side, then turned and lumbered off into the undergrowth. Thornclaw and Ashfur charged after it with earsplitting caterwauls.
“Come back!” Firestar yowled. “Let it go!”
Panting, he closed his eyes briefly, listening as the sound of the badger’s paws faded into the distance. Then he braced himself and padded over to where Sootpaw was crouched beside the body of his mother. He looked up as Firestar approached, his eyes pleading.
“She’s not dead, is she? She can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Firestar bent his head and touched Sootpaw’s forehead with his nose. Only five moons had passed since the young cat’s father, Whitestorm, had died in the battle with BloodClan. How could StarClan let this happen? “She died bravely, like a warrior.”
“She died saving me!” Sootpaw’s voice was shrill with anguish.
“Don’t blame yourself.” Firestar gave his shoulder a comforting lick. “Willowpelt knew what she was doing.”
“But she…” Sootpaw fell silent, trembling with shock, and pushed his nose into his mother’s fur.
Firestar looked up to see Thornclaw and Ashfur returning; Ashfur was limping heavily.
“It’s gone toward the Thunderpath,” Thornclaw reported.
“I hope a monster gets it.” He padded over to Sootpaw and sat beside him, looping his tail over the young cat’s shoulders.
Sootpaw didn’t look up.
“Are you okay?” Firestar asked Ashfur.
The younger warrior flexed his shoulder muscles. “I think so. I landed hard; that’s all.”
“Better let Cinderpelt take a look anyway, when we get back to camp.”
Ashfur nodded. Together he and Firestar lifted Willowpelt’s limp body and began to carry her back to the ravine.
Her drooping tail scored a faint line in the dust. Thornclaw followed, leading the stunned Sootpaw.
Wrapped in grief, Firestar didn’t notice the sound or scent of approaching cats until Cloudtail emerged from a clump of bracken almost under his paws.