The cats below her nodded in agreement.
Bluestar continued. “Our need for warriors is our greatest obstacle. We shall get around this by speeding up the training of our apprentices. They need to be ready even sooner to fight for our Clan.”
Firepaw saw Dustpaw and Sandpaw exchange a thrilled glance. Graypaw was gazing up at Bluestar, his eyes wide with excitement. Ravenpaw just shuffled his paws anxiously. The black apprentice’s wide eyes showed worry rather than excitement.
Bluestar went on. “One young cat has been sharing mentors with Graypaw and Ravenpaw. By teaching him, I shall speed up the training of all three apprentices.” She paused and looked down at her Clan. “I shall take on Firepaw as my own apprentice.”
Firepaw opened his eyes wide in amazement. Bluestar was to be his mentor?
Beside him, Graypaw gasped, unable to hide his surprise. “What an honor! It’s been moons since Bluestar had an apprentice. Usually she trains only the kits of deputies!”
Then a familiar voice rose from the front of the crowd. It was Tigerclaw. “So Firepaw is to be rewarded, not punished, for feeding an enemy warrior when he should have been feeding his own Clan?”
“Firepaw is my apprentice now. I will deal with him,” answered Bluestar. She stared into Tigerclaw’s fierce eyes for a moment before lifting her head to address the whole Clan once more. “Yellowfang will be allowed to stay here until she has recovered her strength. We are warriors, not savages. She is to be treated with respect and courtesy.”
“But the Clan cannot support Yellowfang,” Darkstripe protested. “We have too many mouths to feed already.”
“Yeah!” Graypaw whispered into Firepaw’s ear. “And some of them are bigger than others!”
“I don’t need anyone to care for me!” spat Yellowfang. “And I’ll split open anyone who tries!”
“Friendly, isn’t she?” Graypaw murmured.
Firepaw flicked the tip of his tail in silent agreement. There were muffled meows from the other warriors as they grudgingly recognized the enemy warrior’s fighting spirit.
Bluestar ignored the murmuring. “We shall kill two prey with one blow, as it were. Firepaw, as punishment for breaking the warrior code, it will be your responsibility to care for Yellowfang. You will hunt for her and tend her wounds. You will fetch fresh bedding and clear away her dirt.”
“Yes, Bluestar,” mewed Firepaw, his head bowed in submission. Clear away her dirt! he thought to himself. Ugh!
Mocking yowls came from Dustpaw and Sandpaw. “Good idea!” hissed Dustpaw. “Firepaw had better be good at cracking fleas!”
“And hunting!” added Sandpaw. “That sack of bones is going to need feeding up!”
“Enough!” Bluestar interrupted them. “I hope Firepaw will find no shame in caring for Yellowfang. She is a healer, and she is his elder. For those reasons alone he should respect her!” She shot a sharp glance at Sandpaw and Dustpaw. “And there is no humiliation in caring for another cat when it is unable to take care of itself. The meeting is over. I would like to speak to my senior warriors alone now.” With that, she jumped down from the Highrock and marched toward her den.
Lionheart followed her. The other Clan cats began to move away from the Highrock. One or two congratulated Firepaw on being chosen as Bluestar’s apprentice; others mockingly wished him luck looking after Yellowfang. Firepaw felt so dazed by Bluestar’s announcement that he just nodded blankly.
Longtail padded up to him. The vee-shaped nick that Firepaw had cut into the tip of his ear still showed. The young warrior drew back his whiskers into an ugly snarl. “Well, I hope you’ll think twice about bringing strays back into the camp next time,” he sneered. “Like I said, outsiders always bring trouble.”
Chapter 9
“I’d go and see to Yellowfang, if I were you,” whispered Graypaw, as Longtail strode away. “She’s doesn’t look very happy.”
Firepaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was still lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was glaring at him.
“Well, here goes,” he mewed. “Wish me luck!”
“You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one,” answered Graypaw. “Call out if you need a hand. If she looks like she’s going to have you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.”
Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Yellowfang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen.
The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet!”
Firepaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can call me what you like,” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Bluestar’s orders.”
“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you?” Yellowfang wheezed.
She’s tired too, Firepaw thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.
“I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten,” Firepaw replied calmly.
“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?”
“Yes, they were.” Firepaw looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.
Yellowfang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!”
Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!”
Yellowfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide.
Firepaw carried on fiercely: “You’re just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!”
He stopped as Yellowfang began to make a low, harsh, wheezing sound.
Alarmed, Firepaw took a step toward her. The she-cat was trembling all over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. Was she having some kind of a fit?
“Look, I didn’t mean…” he began, before he suddenly realized that she was laughing!
“Mr-ow, ow-ow,” she mewled, a purr rumbling up from deep inside her chest.
Firepaw didn’t know what to do.
“You have spirit, kittypet,” Yellowfang croaked, stopping at last. “Now, I’m tired and my leg hurts. I need sleep and something to put on this wound. Go and find that pretty little medicine cat of yours and ask her for some herbs. I think you’ll find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while you’re at it, I wouldn’t mind a few poppy seeds to chew on. The pain is killing me!”
Stunned by her change of mood, Firepaw turned quickly and sprinted toward Spottedleaf’s den.
He had never been in this part of the camp before. With his ears pricked, he padded through a cool green tunnel of ferns that led into a small grassy clearing. A tall rock stood at one side, split down the middle by a crack wide enough for a cat to make its den inside. Out of this opening trotted Spottedleaf. As usual, she looked bright-eyed and friendly, her dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of amber and brown.