Even though Rootpaw sprang eagerly to his paws and followed his mentor, he knew it would be a long time before he could forget the conversation he had just heard.
Fresh snow had fallen overnight, still almost unmarked except for the paw prints of the patrols. Here and there Rootpaw spotted the thin scratches of a bird’s claws, but no tracks of mice, rabbits, or squirrels. He couldn’t pick up the least trace of any prey-scent.
“I guess they’re all huddled in their holes,” he meowed, discouraged.
“We just have to keep trying,” his mentor responded. “Let’s go down to the lake.”
As they headed in that direction, Dewspring suddenly darted aside into a patch of undergrowth where overhanging fronds of bracken had protected the ground from the worst of the snow. He emerged a moment later with a shrew dangling from his jaws.
“Great catch!” Rootpaw exclaimed.
“No, it’s a skinny thing,” Dewspring mewed, setting it down at the edge of the patch and scratching earth over it, ready to collect it later. “But it’s better than nothing. Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” he added with a sigh.
Rootpaw wondered whether StarClan could hear him. Even if they could, did they care whether a hunter thanked them? But he knew better than to voice his doubts. He followed Dewspring as his mentor continued, but his hopes of catching something himself were rapidly fading.
The trees were thinning out as they approached the lake, the wider stretches of open ground leaving even less space for prey to hide. Rootpaw’s legs were getting so tired, each paw step was an effort.
How much longer is Dewspring going to keep us out here, looking for prey that isn’t there?
Then, as Rootpaw rounded a clump of hazel bushes, the lake came into view. His eyes widened as he spotted a huge crow, pecking at the ground on top of the slope that led down to the waterside.
Yes!
Instantly Rootpaw dropped into the hunter’s crouch. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Dewspring raise his tail as if to stop him, then take a step back, leaving the prey to his apprentice. Rootpaw gulped, realizing how important this moment was.
I have to make this kill. I have to get food for my Clan!
Paw step by paw step Rootpaw edged forward. The crow had its back to him, moving slowly away as it pecked among the debris at the foot of a beech tree. The wind was blowing from the crow to Rootpaw, so there was no chance that his scent would alert it. His heart pounded as he drew gradually closer.
This bird is so big and scary—but it would be such great prey to take back to SkyClan!
At last Rootpaw halted, barely a tail-length away from his prey. He waggled his hindquarters, then pushed off in a mighty leap and landed on the crow’s back with a thump. For a few heartbeats the crow struggled, its wings a black storm around Rootpaw’s head, its talons flailing. Rootpaw bit down hard on the back of its neck, and it suddenly collapsed and lay limp on the ground, the breeze from the lake ruffling its feathers. Rootpaw stared down at it, hardly able to believe that he had caught it.
Dewspring came bounding up, his eyes shining. “Hey, that was amazing!” he exclaimed. “Well done, Rootpaw. You were brave to take on a bird as big as that. It just goes to show you have a talent for hunting.”
In spite of the cold wind, Rootpaw felt warm from ears to tail-tip at his mentor’s praise. “I thought it would fly away for sure,” he confessed, then added conscientiously, “Thank you, StarClan, for this prey.”
“We’d better get back to camp,” Dewspring meowed. “Are you sure you can manage to carry that?”
“I’ll be fine,” Rootpaw responded proudly, imagining what his Clanmates would say when he brought back such a magnificent addition to the fresh-kill pile. Let Kitepaw and Turtlepaw try sneering at that!
Dewspring led the way to the spot where he had left his shrew and collected it before heading back toward the SkyClan camp. Rootpaw followed, dragging the crow along between his legs, staggering a little from the weight.
They had almost reached the camp when Rootpaw spotted his father sitting in the snow at the edge of a bramble thicket. Tree was so still that snow had drifted over his back, almost covering his yellow pelt. Rootpaw hoped that his mentor wouldn’t spot him, but at the same moment Dewspring halted.
“What is your father doing?” he asked Rootpaw.
Rootpaw’s pride in his catch was swallowed up in embarrassment; he felt as though his fur were on fire. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Just sitting there, I guess.”
Dewspring looked confused. “Well . . . er . . . I suppose he wasn’t brought up in a Clan,” he mewed, clearly trying hard not to say something insulting. “He must have his own ways. But I wouldn’t want to be out here, getting snowed on.”
Rootpaw guessed that his mentor was looking at Tree and wondering if this strange cat, who did everything differently and sometimes took other Clans’ sides in disputes, was truly loyal to SkyClan.
Why does Tree have to be so peculiar? Rootpaw asked himself, wishing he could be like Needlepaw and just brush off their father’s strangeness.
Completely humiliated, struggling to think of something he could say to Dewspring, Rootpaw spotted movement in the snow. A vole was scurrying toward Tree, who lazily stretched out a paw and slammed it down on top of the little creature.
Dewspring’s tail curled up in amusement. “Hey, he’s hunting!” he exclaimed. Padding over to Tree, he dipped his head and added, “That’s a cool trick! Can you teach me?”
Rootpaw had to admit that his mentor was right. But he still wished that Tree would catch prey using the normal warrior hunting moves.
Tree blinked up at Dewspring. “Sure I can,” he replied, his voice a friendly purr. “It’s not hard. All you have to do is think bush.”
Dewspring looked confused. “‘Think bush’?”
“Yeah, imagine your legs are branches and your claws are twigs,” Tree explained.
“And my ears are leaves, right?” Dewspring meowed, with a wry glance at Rootpaw, who staggered up, dragging his crow.
“You got it,” Tree told him. “Then you have to keep really still, and the prey will come to you.” He picked up the vole and added it to a small pile beside him; Rootpaw saw that he had already caught a mouse and a shrew.
His happy pride returned a moment later as Tree spotted his crow and asked, “Rootpaw, did you catch that?”
It was Dewspring who replied, a look of approval on his broad gray face. “He did, all by himself. He’s going to be an amazing hunter.”
Rootpaw looked up at his father to see the same approval gleaming in his eyes. “That’s great to know,” Tree meowed. “Good job, Rootpaw.”
“We’d better be getting back to camp,” Dewspring continued, as Rootpaw basked in the older cats’ praise. “The sun will be setting soon.”
For the first time Rootpaw noticed that the shadows of the trees were lengthening, blue against the snow. The short leaf-bare day was drawing to an end.
“I’ll come with you,” Tree meowed, gathering his prey together.
Dewspring leaned in and picked up the shrew. “Here, let me help carry.”
On the way back to the camp, Rootpaw didn’t feel too embarrassed anymore in his father’s presence. Tree had caught several pieces of prey. But he realized he would have felt differently if his father had just been sitting there, freezing to death while he pretended to be a bush.
The rest of the Clan gathered around the hunters as they pushed their way through the camp entrance and into the clearing.
“Rootpaw, did you really catch that?” Needlepaw exclaimed, staring at the ragged feathers of the crow. “That’s amazing!”