“They must still be out on patrol,” Firepaw guessed.
“Good,” meowed Graypaw. “Peace and quiet.”
They ate their fill and lay back to wash. The cool evening air was welcome after the heat of the day.
“Hey! Guess what!” mewed Graypaw suddenly. “Ravenpaw managed to squeeze a compliment out of old Tigerclaw this morning!”
“Really?” Firepaw gasped. “What on earth did you do to please Tigerclaw—fly?”
“Well,” Ravenpaw began shyly, looking at his paws, “I caught a crow.”
“How’d you manage that?” Firepaw mewed, impressed.
“It was an old one,” Ravenpaw admitted modestly.
“But it was huge,” added Graypaw. “Even Tigerclaw couldn’t find fault with that! He’s been in such a bad mood since Bluestar took you on as her apprentice.” He licked his paw thoughtfully for a moment. “Hang on, make that since Lionheart was made deputy.”
“He’s just worried about ShadowClan, and the extra patrols,” mewed Ravenpaw, hastily. “You should try not to annoy him.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud yowl from the other side of the clearing.
“Oh, no.” Firepaw groaned, getting to his paws. “I forgot to take Yellowfang her share!”
“You wait here,” mewed Graypaw, leaping up. “I’ll take her something.”
“No, I’d better go,” Firepaw protested. “This is my punishment, not yours.”
“No one will notice,” argued Graypaw. “They’re all busy eating. You know me: quiet as a mouse, quick as a fish. Wait here.”
Firepaw sat down again, unable to hide his relief. He watched his friend trot away from the tree stump to the pile of fresh-kill.
As if he were carrying out orders, Graypaw confidently picked out two of the juiciest-looking mice. Quickly, he began to pad across the clearing toward Yellowfang.
“Stop, Graypaw!” A loud growl rumbled from the entrance to the warriors’ den. Tigerclaw strode out and marched over to Graypaw. “Where are you taking those mice?” he demanded.
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Firepaw watched, helpless, from the tree stump. Beside him, Ravenpaw froze midchew and crouched over his meal with his eyes wider than ever.
“Umm…” Graypaw dropped the mice and shuffled his paws uncomfortably.
“Not helping young Firepaw by feeding that greedy traitor over there, are you?”
Firepaw watched Graypaw study his paws for a moment. Finally he replied, “I, er, I was just feeling hungry. I was going to take them off and eat them by myself. If I let that pair get a look in”—he glanced at Firepaw and Ravenpaw—“they’ll leave me with nothing but bones and fur.”
“Oh, really?” mewed Tigerclaw. “Well, if you’re so hungry, you might as well eat them here and now!”
“But—” Graypaw began, looking up at the senior warrior in alarm.
“Now!” growled Tigerclaw.
Graypaw bent his head quickly and began to eat the mice. He demolished the first one in a couple of bites and swallowed it quickly. The second mouse took longer for him to eat. Firepaw thought he’d never manage to swallow it, and his own stomach clenched in sympathy, but eventually Graypaw gave a final, difficult gulp and the last bit of mouse disappeared.
“Better now?” asked Tigerclaw, his voice smooth with mock sympathy.
“Much,” replied Graypaw, stifling a burp.
“Good.” Tigerclaw stalked off again, back to his den.
Graypaw slunk uncomfortably back to Firepaw and Ravenpaw.
“Thanks, Graypaw,” Firepaw mewed gratefully, nudging his friend’s soft fur. “That was quick thinking.”
The noise of Yellowfang’s yowl rose into the air once more. Firepaw sighed and got to his paws. He would make sure he took her enough to see her through the night. He wanted to turn in early. His stomach was full and his paws were tired.
“Are you okay, Graypaw?” he asked as he turned to leave.
“Mrr-ow-ow,” moaned Graypaw. He was hunched into a low crouch, squinting with pain. “I’ve eaten too much!”
“Go and see Spottedleaf,” Firepaw suggested. “I’m sure she’ll find something to help.”
“I hope so,” mewed Graypaw, tottering slowly away.
Firepaw wanted to watch him go, until another angry yowl from Yellowfang sent him sprinting across the clearing.
Chapter 10
By the following morning, a thin drizzle soaked the treetops and dripped down into the camp.
Firepaw woke up feeling damp. It had been an uncomfortable night. He stood up and shook himself vigorously, fluffing out his fur. Then he left the apprentices’ den and trotted across the clearing to Yellowfang’s nest.
Yellowfang was just stirring. She lifted her head and squinted at Firepaw as he approached. “My bones ache this morning. Has it been raining all night?”
“Since just after moonhigh,” Firepaw replied. He reached out and prodded her mossy nest cautiously. “Your bedding is soaking wet. Why don’t you move nearer to the nursery? It’s more sheltered there.”
“What? And be kept awake all night by those mewling kits! I’d rather get wet!” Yellowfang growled.
Firepaw watched her circle stiffly on her mossy bed. “Then at least let me fetch you some dry bedding,” he offered, keen to drop the subject of kits if it upset the old she-cat so much.
“Thank you, Firepaw,” replied Yellowfang quietly, settling down again.
Firepaw felt stunned. He wondered if Yellowfang was feeling all right. It was the first time she had thanked him for anything, and the first time she had not called him kittypet.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a startled squirrel; go and fetch some moss!” she snapped.
Firepaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. This was more like the Yellowfang he was used to. He nodded and sprinted off.
He almost crashed into Speckletail in the middle of the clearing. This was the queen who had watched Yellowfang’s angry outburst at the tabby kit the day before.
“Sorry, Speckletail,” Firepaw mewed. “Are you on your way to see Yellowfang?”
“What would I want with that unnatural creature?” replied Speckletail crossly. “Actually it’s you I was looking for. Bluestar wants to see you.”
Firepaw hurried toward the Highrock and Bluestar’s den.
Bluestar was sitting outside, her head bobbing rhythmically as she licked the gray fur below her throat. She paused when she noticed Firepaw. “How is Yellowfang today?” she meowed.
“Her bedding is wet, so I was going to fetch her more,” Firepaw replied.
“I’ll ask one of the queens to see to that.” Bluestar gave her chest another lick, and then eyed Firepaw carefully. “Is she fit enough to hunt for herself yet?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” Firepaw meowed, “but she can walk well enough now.”
“I see,” meowed Bluestar. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It is time for you to return to your training, Firepaw. But you’ll need to work hard to make up for time you have lost.”
“Great! I mean, thank you, Bluestar!” Firepaw stammered.
“You will go out with Tigerclaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw this morning,” Bluestar continued. “I’ve asked Tigerclaw to assess the warrior skills of all our apprentices. Don’t worry about Yellowfang; I’ll make sure someone sees to her while you are gone.”
Firepaw nodded.
“Now, join your companions,” Bluestar ordered. “I expect they’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Bluestar,” Firepaw mewed. He turned with a flick of his tail and darted toward his den.
Bluestar was right; Graypaw and Ravenpaw were both waiting for him by their favorite tree stump. Graypaw looked stiff and uncomfortable, his long fur clumped by the dampness of the air. Ravenpaw was pacing around the tree stump, lost in thought, the white tip of his tail twitching.