“We’ll play some games instead,” Billystorm meowed. “Let’s see how good you are at climbing.”
The kits bounced around him as he led the way across to the thorn tree that Sharpclaw had used for his training exercises. Its lower branches were thick and strong, safe for the kits to improve their skills.
“When you climb,” Billystorm began, holding the kits back with his tail so that they didn’t hurl themselves into the tree, “you need to look for paw holds. Places you can dig your claws in. You must never move until you know where you’re going to put your paws next. And always think about how you’re going to get down. That way, climbing is safe.”
The kits nodded seriously as the ginger tom finished speaking.
“Okay,” Leafstar meowed. “Rabbitkit, let’s see if you can climb up to that first branch.”
The tiny brown tom scampered up to the tree and fixed his claws into a knot-hole, then scrabbled with his hind paws to boost himself up the trunk. Soon he sat panting on the branch. “I did it!” he exclaimed.
“Well done,” Billystorm praised him. “Plumkit, you next.”
The dark gray she-cat climbed quickly and neatly to sit beside her brother on the branch. Nettlekit followed. “I was faster than you,” he boasted as he crouched on the branch next to the others.
“We’re not trying to be fast; we’re trying to be safe,” Billystorm pointed out, waving his tail for Creekkit to climb.
The little gray tabby scrambled up the trunk, but when he reached the branch he slipped and dangled down with his hind paws waving. “Help!” he squealed.
“Go on, you can pull yourself up,” Leafstar encouraged him.
With a massive effort Creekkit hauled himself up and managed to fasten his hind claws into the branch. “Made it!” he gasped.
“Very good, all of you,” Billystorm meowed. “Now let’s see you come down. One at a time, and slowly, Nettlekit.”
Leafstar remembered her mother teaching her to climb, seasons ago in the woods. Coming down was always harder and more frightening than going up.
Billystorm guided Creekkit down, then Rabbitkit and Nettlekit. “Where’s Plumkit?” he asked, looking around. “Did she get down already?”
A screech of terror interrupted him. Tipping her head back, Leafstar saw Plumkit perched almost at the top of the tree, all four paws clinging to the stump of a broken branch. “I’m stuck!” she wailed. “I can’t get down!”
“You shouldn’t be up there in the first place,” Billystorm mewed exasperatedly.
“And we should have kept a better eye on her,” Leafstar added. “Okay, Plumkit, I’m coming to get you.”
Muscles pumping, Leafstar raced up the tree. Plumkit was trembling when she reached her. “I’m going to fall!” she whimpered.
“No, you’re not,” Leafstar reassured her, touching her on one shoulder with the tip of her tail. “Look, put your hind paw just here…”
Slowly Leafstar guided the tiny she-cat down the tree. Plumkit’s courage had returned by the time she reached the lowest branch, and she sprang off, landing on Billystorm, who had stretched out to rest underneath.
Billystorm jumped up, baring his teeth and growling with pretend fierceness. “I’ll teach you to pounce on me!”
Plumkit let out a mrrow of laughter.
“Teach me, too!” Rabbitkit squealed, scrambling up the tree again and hurling himself down on Billystorm. “I’m not scared of you!”
Billystorm rolled his eyes at Leafstar as all four kits raced up the tree and jumped down, springing around with their tails high as he growled at them and swiped at them with his claws sheathed. Leafstar joined in, too, pretending to be asleep until some kit landed on top of her and cuffed her over the ears with tiny paws.
I haven’t had so much fun in moons!
“We’ve got to fight these beasts!” Nettlekit announced. “Rabbitkit, Plumkit, you attack from that side.”
His littermates scampered off; Billystorm and Leafstar found themselves surrounded with the kits creeping up on them in a kind of hunter’s crouch.
“Are you scared?” Plumkit meowed.
“You should be!” Creekkit squeaked. “We’re fiercer than you!”
“It’s getting late,” Billystorm mewed at last. “Time to go back to camp.”
A chorus of protest came from the kits.
“We’re not tired,” Plumkit insisted. “We want to play some more.”
“I know, but Fallowfern will be wondering where you are.” Leafstar noticed that a blackbird had landed on one of the highest branches of the thorn tree. “You see that bird? Billystorm, do you think you could catch it?”
Billystorm looked up, his eyes narrowing. “I expect so.”
“Off you go, then. Kits, this is how a SkyClan warrior hunts.”
The kits watched, enthralled, as Billystorm leaped into the tree and crept up to the higher branches, trying not to shake the one where the bird was perching. Leafstar admired his perfect balance.
He’s so good at jumping and climbing. He must be a SkyClan descendant.
Billystorm shuffled along a branch until he had enough space for a clear leap at the blackbird. At the last moment it tried to take off, but he grabbed it in his strong jaws and bounded down the tree again to drop the limp body in front of the kits.
“That was great!” Rabbitkit squeaked.
“I want to learn to do that,” Nettlekit mewed. “Show us now!”
“Another time, little ones,” Leafstar promised.
“You can share,” Billystorm meowed, nudging his prey toward the kits. “Blackbird is very tasty.”
The kits gathered around the fresh-kill, scrambling over one another in their eagerness.
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Plumkit announced, looking up with a feather on her nose.
The sun was going down by the time the kits had finished eating.
“Come on,” Leafstar meowed. “Now we really do have to go back to camp.”
“Don’t wanna…” Nettlekit protested, his words punctuated by a massive yawn. “Wanna climb some more…”
“The only place you’re going to climb is into your nest,” Billystorm told him, rounding up the littermates with a sweep of his tail. “Let’s go.”
The kits were stumbling from tiredness as they followed Leafstar back to the Rockpile, where Fallowfern was waiting.
“Thank you so much!” the pale brown she-cat exclaimed. “Have they behaved themselves?”
“They’ve been fine,” Billystorm assured her.
“Good. We’ve made Clovertail really comfortable in the new birthing den. It won’t be long before her kits come.”
“Can we play with them?” Plumkit asked, her voice muzzy with sleep.
“Not at first,” her mother warned. “They’ll be too little. Now say ‘thank you’ to Leafstar and Billystorm for looking after you.”
“Thank you!” the kits chorused.
“Can we do it again tomorrow?” Nettlekit pleaded.
“We’ll see,” Leafstar purred. “Go with your mother now. I don’t know how Fallowfern manages all four of them,” she added to Billystorm as she watched the she-cat herding her litter up the trail toward the nursery. “I’m worn out!”
“Me too,” Billystorm agreed. “But they’re great kits. I enjoyed playing with them.”
“You’d better go home now and check on Snookpaw,” Leafstar mewed. “Tell him to get well soon. We’re all missing him.”
“I’ll do that.” Billystorm whisked his tail lightly over Leafstar’s flank, then headed up the trail that led to the top of the gorge.
Even though Leafstar had said she was worn out, the session with the kits had left her feeling playful. Her paws tingled with energy. Part of her wanted to race along the top of the cliff, feeling the wind in her fur, or roll in crackly leaves under the trees.