Larksplash paced the grass, her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt ruffled by the breeze. “I’m taking Ryepaw to the RiverClan border to refresh the scent line. Shall we travel together?”
Dawnstripe nodded. She sprang down from the grassy hillock and disappeared into a gap in the heather. Tallpaw hurried after her. As he ducked between the thick branches, he noticed that the grass underpaw was worn into a track of bare, brown earth. He smelled rabbit, though the scent was stale.
Ryepaw was trotting at his heels. “Just wait till you get to Outlook Rock,” she mewed. “You can see to the end of the world from there!”
Tallpaw followed the rabbit trail as it swerved through the heather. Dawnstripe’s golden tail-tip flashed in and out of sight and Tallpaw quickened his pace, worried he’d hold the others back. The trail widened until he could see Dawnstripe racing ahead. Clumps of black dirt littered the path like bunches of dark berries, and Tallpaw hopped and jumped, trying to avoid stepping on them.
“Sheep dirt,” Ryepaw explained.
Alarm pricked Tallpaw’s pelt. Were there sheep here? Sheep were huge. He’d seen their white backs looming beyond the camp walls. He jerked his head around. “Have you seen one up close?”
“Of course,” Ryepaw purred. “They’re harmless. You could walk under their bellies and they wouldn’t notice. They just live to chew and make dirt.” She bounded over a large clump of dirt-berries.
The ground began to slope down as heather gave way to wind-flattened grass. It felt soft and damp beneath Tallpaw’s pads. Ahead of Dawnstripe, the moor rolled onward, like a gigantic, green cat sleeping under the blue sky. Tallpaw tasted the air. Sheep dirt, rabbit, and heather swamped his tongue. Was there enemy scent hidden among all that? Tallpaw closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate.
“Tallpaw, no!”
Chapter 6
Teeth grabbed Tallpaw’s scruff and tugged him with a jerk. He gasped as he felt himself swing out into open air. Twisting, his hind paws scrabbled against stones for a moment before Dawnstripe whisked him backward onto the grass and dropped him.
“Watch where you’re going!” she spat, her eyes wide with horror.
Tallpaw stared at his mentor in confusion. Then his gaze slid past her to where the grass ended abruptly. There was a narrow strip of rock before the ground fell away in a sheer, jagged drop.
Ryepaw stared at him wide-eyed. “You nearly fell into the gorge!”
Larksplash stopped beside her apprentice. “We haven’t lost a ’paw to the gorge in a while.” Her eyes sparked.
“This is serious,” Dawnstripe snapped at her Clanmate.
“I know,” Larksplash meowed softly. “But I think Tallpaw’s scared enough.”
Tallpaw’s heart pounded so loudly he could hardly hear what the other cats were saying. Trembling, he peered over the edge of the cliff. At the bottom, water roared, churning between the sheer rock walls like angry storm clouds. It looked like a huge claw had sliced a channel through the moor. Was this where Sandgorse was tunneling?
“Stay away from the edge,” Dawnstripe warned. “When it rains, the grass gets slippery.”
Tallpaw backed away, his heart still thumping.
Ryepaw nudged his shoulder gently with her nose. “I should have warned you,” she whispered. “I forgot you’ve never seen the gorge before.”
A distant bark sounded from somewhere downriver, beyond the end of the gorge.
Tallpaw’s pelt twitched. “Is that a dog?”
Ryepaw pricked her ears. “Don’t worry. It’s in RiverClan territory, so it’s not our problem.”
“Come on.” Larksplash nodded to her apprentice. “Let’s go check the border. If that dog has been anywhere near, Heatherstar will want to know.”
Ryepaw stretched and tasted the air. “It’s with a Twoleg.”
“It’ll be a daft one, then.” Larksplash headed away over the grass, following the line of the gorge as it sloped toward the forest. “Who’d want to hang out with a dog? Nasty, slavering things.”
“Twolegs are all daft!” Ryepaw called, chasing after her.
Tallpaw turned to Dawnstripe as the pair disappeared down the slope. “Are there many dogs on the moor?”
Dawnstripe gazed across the heather. “They come with Twolegs, but just one or two at a time.”
“Do they ever come near the hollow?” Tallpaw had only seen sheep stray close to the camp wall.
“They don’t get a chance. They make so much noise, we always have time to send a patrol to steer them away.” Dawnstripe didn’t sound concerned. “Their teeth are no match for a warrior’s claws.” She pointed her nose along the gorge. “Do you see where the land turns flat and marshy?”
Tallpaw squinted as the sun flashed from between clouds. Farther along the edge of the moor, the river emerged from the gorge and grew fat and sluggish beside low-lying meadows.
“That’s RiverClan territory.” Dawnstripe nodded to the forest on the opposite side of the silver river. “And ThunderClan sleeps and hunts among those trees.”
Tallpaw wondered what it must be like to live hidden from the sky. Didn’t ThunderClan long to feel the sun on their pelts or the wind in their ears? They had more in common with tunnelers than moor runners!
Dawnstripe headed away from the gorge and crossed the slope, following a ridge of earth topped with heather. It curved like an endless tail, wrapping protectively around the moor. Tallpaw’s legs were aching by the time they halted at the top of a steep descent. The smooth grass swept down into a line of dense trees.
“That’s the way to Fourtrees,” Dawnstripe told him.
Tallpaw stared at the canopy of green leaves trembling in the breeze. “Where’s the Great Rock?” He peered through the branches, trying to glimpse the huge rock he’d heard his Clanmates talking about when they returned from Gatherings.
Dawnstripe flicked her tail. “It’s hidden at the moment, but you’ll see it soon enough.”
Tallpaw’s heart leaped. He’d forgotten that he’d be allowed to attend Gatherings now that he was an apprentice. Paws pricking with excitement, he trotted after Dawnstripe as she continued around the edge of the moor. “That’s ShadowClan territory,” she told him as he fell in beside her.
Tallpaw followed her gaze to the swathe of pines that had taken over from the brighter green trees of ThunderClan’s territory. A bare, gray strip divided the pines from the rest of the forest, cutting a path like a river across the landscape. A faint roar touched Tallpaw’s ear fur and he watched tiny shapes move along the strip, flashing like drops of water in the sunshine. “Is that the Thunderpath?”
“Yes,” Dawnstripe meowed over her shoulder. “You’ll learn how to cross when you go to Highstones.” Tallpaw’s fur pricked. Dawnstripe was talking about his visit to the Moonstone, where cats shared tongues with StarClan. For a moment his head spun with excitement, and he had to stop until the ground felt steady beneath his paws again.
Ahead of them, the grass sloped more steeply and before long they were trekking through deep gorse once more. “This is the high-moor,” Dawnstripe explained. “We’re heading for the very edge of Clan territory.”
The edge of Clan territory? Tallpaw paused and reared onto his hind legs, trying to catch a glimpse. But the ridge of earth they had been walking on had given way to a rutted sheep trail, and gorse blocked his view.
“You’ll see soon enough.” Dawnstripe veered onto a rabbit trail, roofed by heather fronds. Tallpaw ducked after her, his pelt pricking uneasily as the heather closed around him. The air was stuffy and still. Imagine how much worse a tunnel would be. Tallpaw took a deep breath and focused on Dawnstripe’s golden tail as it bounced in front of him.