Firestar's Quest (19 page)

Moony paused a few tail-lengths from the end of the trail and raised his eyes to the stars. Then he started forward again, somehow managing to pick up speed, and launched
himself in a flying leap over the rift. His forepaws struck the rock, and for a few heartbeats he hung over the gap, paws scrabbling to pull himself up.

Firestar felt Sandstorm's muscles tense, as if she were about to dash out and help him. But before she could move the old cat gave a massive heave and hauled himself to safety. He stood still for a moment, panting, then padded forward and sat down in the middle of the rock. Lifting his head, he turned his face to the moon; he looked like a cat made of shadows, outlined against the shining white circle in the sky.

Moony began to speak very softly; Firestar and Sandstorm crept forward so that they could hear what he was saying.

“Spirits of cats who have gone before,” Moony mewed, “I am sorry I am the only cat left of what was once a noble Clan. I will try to preserve the way of the warrior until my last breath. But I fear that when I die it will die with me, and the memory of SkyClan will be lost forever.”

He looked up, as if he were listening for a reply that never came. At last he heaved a long sigh, letting his head droop, and sat motionless while the moon began to slide down the sky.

Firestar could not interrupt his silent vigil. For how many seasons had Moony lived alone, surrounded by cats who tormented him? How long had he tried to live by the warrior code, and kept alive the memory of SkyClan?

At last the moon began to dip below the Twoleg nests on the horizon. Firestar was about to step forward when the old cat turned his head. His eyes glowed like moons. “I know
you're there,” he meowed. “I'm not so old that I can't pick up scent.”

Firestar's pelt prickled; he felt as awkward as an apprentice caught eavesdropping. He and Sandstorm emerged from behind the boulders and padded forward to stand in front of the old cat. Firestar dipped his head. “Greetings, Moony. We—”

“That is not my name,” the old cat interrupted, standing up so that his shadow slid over the rock and vanished into the bottom of the gorge. “My name is Sky.”

Firestar's heart thudded so hard it
felt as if it would burst out of his chest. He could hardly breathe, and the words he wanted to say tumbled out in a rush. “Were you once a warrior of SkyClan?”

“I was not,” the old cat replied. Before Firestar had time to feel disappointed, Sky went on. “My mother's mother was born into the Clan. By the time I was born, SkyClan was no more, but my mother taught me the ways of a Clan warrior.”

Firestar exchanged an excited glance with Sandstorm. Her eyes were stretched wide. “We were right!” she mewed to Firestar. “This
was
SkyClan's home.”

“Go on, Sky.” Firestar took a step toward the old cat. “Tell us more about SkyClan.”

To Firestar's dismay, Sky recoiled. “Why do you want to know?” he demanded. “What is it to you?”

“We want to help you,” Firestar explained. “We come from the forest where SkyClan once lived.”

“We're cats of ThunderClan,” Sandstorm added. “My name is Sandstorm, and this is Firestar, the Clan leader.”

The old cat's ears flattened, as if his ingrained mistrust
were fighting with the respect that a true warrior would show for a Clan leader. Firestar realized that he must be the first leader Sky had ever met.

“I had a dream.” Firestar sat down, his tail wrapped over his paws to make him look as unthreatening as possible. After a moment's hesitation Sky sat down too, and listened while Firestar told him everything that had happened since his very first vision of the gray-and-white cat in the ravine outside the ThunderClan camp. “I'm sure he was the leader of SkyClan when it was driven out of the forest,” Firestar finished. “He begged me to come and find his lost Clan.”

“And you came all this way because of a dream?” Sky asked.

“I came because I had to.”

Sky sprang to his paws again, the thin gray fur on his shoulders bristling. “Do you think it's as easy as that?” he spat. “Do you think the wrongs of the past can be forgiven so easily?”

“What do you mean?” Sandstorm mewed, bewildered.

“It was thanks to the four Clans left in the forest that my ancestors were driven out of their home. When they came here, they thought they would be safe, but later they found it was as terrible as the territory they had left. Your ancestors destroyed my Clan!”

For a few heartbeats Firestar was afraid that the old cat would leap on him with teeth and claws bared. He braced himself, knowing that he could never raise a paw against this noble old warrior.

Then Sky drew in a deep breath and sat down again. “This is a time of truce. I will not seek revenge while the moon is
full for the wrongs done to my ancestors.”

Firestar was beginning to feel alarmed. What was wrong with the gorge that meant SkyClan hadn't been able to stay there? With some prey at least, freshwater and shelter, and little threat from Twolegs, the cliffside camp seemed to be a perfect refuge for cats.

“What happened?” he prompted. “Why did they all leave?”

Sky turned his head away. A low keening came from his throat, as if he were mourning for all the cats of SkyClan, driven out, lost, or dead.

Sandstorm padded forward and gently touched his shoulder with her tail. “Tell us why you're called Sky,” she urged.

The old cat looked up at her. “My mother gave me that name,” he rasped, “so that I would never forget my ancestors. And I never have. That's why I come here every full moon.”

“That must get very lonely sometimes,” Sandstorm murmured.

Sighing, Sky looked up at the glitter of Silverpelt. “I don't know if my warrior ancestors listen to me, but I will keep the way of the warrior alive until my last breath.”

“We know you stay in one of the caves on the night of the full moon,” Firestar began hesitantly, not wanting to upset the old cat any more. “Sandstorm and I have been sleeping there. I hope you don't mind.”

Sky let out a disgusted snort. “Then you've met those two kittypets. That's how you knew the stupid name they gave me.”

“Yes, we've seen them,” meowed Sandstorm.

“They live in a Twoleg nest and eat pap!” the old cat exclaimed. “And they say
I'm
mad!”

Firestar caught a glance from Sandstorm, as if she were trying to warn him not to mention that he had once been a kittypet. He certainly didn't intend to; Sky's opinion of him was low enough without that.

“We scared them away,” he told Sky. “You shouldn't have any more trouble with them.”

Sky twitched his ears; for a moment Firestar thought he looked almost disappointed. “Did you notice anything…unusual about them?” he asked.

Firestar cast his mind back to the encounter with the kittypets. He couldn't remember anything distinctive, except for their rudeness, and he didn't think Sky meant that. Then he pictured the two of them as they ran back to the Twoleg nest. “Cherry jumped into a tree,” he recalled. “Is that what you mean?”

Sky nodded. “I think those two kittypets are descended from SkyClan cats.”

Sandstorm's ears pricked with surprise. “Those two mouse-brains?”

“When the Clan was forced out of the gorge,” Sky explained, “most of the cats, including my mother's mother, became rogues or loners. But some of them, those who were too old or too young to hunt, went to live with Twolegs.” He stared across the scrubland to where the harsh orange lights of the Twolegplace stained the sky. “Strange…,” he murmured. “So many of those cats must share my blood, yet none
of them knows who I really am.” He bowed his head again.

“What happened?” Firestar asked. “Why did SkyClan have to leave the gorge?”

The old cat did not reply; Firestar wasn't even sure if he had heard the question.

“You look tired,” Sandstorm mewed. “Would you like me to hunt for you?”

Sky tensed; Firestar was afraid that Sandstorm's offer had offended him. Then he looked up, blinking gratefully. “Thank you. It's been a long night.”

Immediately Sandstorm leaped across the rift and disappeared down the trail into the gorge. Firestar followed more slowly with Sky. He was ready to help the old cat cross the gap, but leaping down from the rock was easier than leaping up, and Sky landed with all four paws firmly on the trail. Firestar let him take the lead to the cave.

As he padded behind, Firestar realized that Sky reminded him of Yellowfang. He had the same proud reserve as the former medicine cat; he was clearly uncomfortable and prickly around other cats, yet he shared Yellowfang's strength and her deep commitment to her Clan. Sky had all the qualities of a true warrior: courage, faith, and loyalty to his Clan. Yet everything he was had been based only on tales told to him by his mother. SkyClan from his nose to the tip of his tail, he had never been part of a real Clan.

Sky clambered up to the mouth of the cave and paused, whiskers twitching. Firestar was nervous that he would feel insulted that he and Sandstorm had brought in bedding,
when he must have slept on the bare sandy floor. The old cat let out a faint snort, then padded over to one of the hollows and curled up without any comment in a nest of ferns and feathers.

He was barely settled when Sandstorm appeared in the entrance, a mouse dangling from her jaws. She crossed the cave to Sky and laid it down in front of him.

The gray cat reached out one paw and prodded it. “A bit skinny, isn't it?” Before Sandstorm could defend her catch, he dragged the mouse closer and began devouring it in rapid gulps.

Sandstorm glanced at Firestar, her eyes glimmering with laughter, and mouthed,
Yellowfang!

Sky finished off the last scrap of mouse, swiped his tongue around his jaws, and let out a long sigh. Then he curled up again and was asleep almost at once, his snores echoing around the cave.

Firestar and Sandstorm squashed up together in the remaining lined nest. Sleep refused to come to Firestar. Bracken pricked against his fur, and Sky's snoring echoed off the sandy walls. Sandstorm was restless too, shifting among the bedding.

But that wasn't what kept Firestar awake. His mind buzzed with troubled thoughts. He wondered whether the SkyClan ancestor was watching him, or his former leader Bluestar. Neither of them had sent him any signs since he came to the gorge. Could the SkyClan leader be trapped somewhere else, unable to watch over his former home?

Eventually he slipped into a disturbed sleep. Sunlight streaming into the cave woke him the next morning. Sandstorm was already sitting up beside him, grooming herself, while Sky snored in his nest opposite.

“Are you ready to go and hunt?” Sandstorm asked.

Firestar heaved himself out of the nest with a huge yawn. His legs were stiff but he knew he wouldn't sleep again. He gave himself a brisk shake to dislodge scraps of bracken from his fur. “Lead on,” he mewed.

By the time they reached the riverside, he was beginning to feel better. He waded through the shallows for a few paces, enjoying the sensation of cool water on pads that were still sore from scrambling up and down the cliff. Then he and Sandstorm headed downstream, to where the trees and undergrowth sheltered prey.

It was good to hunt side by side like this, Firestar thought, without having to worry about organizing patrols or keeping a watch on the borders. The forest suddenly seemed very far away.
Could I stay here forever?
he wondered.
Could I live without a Clan?

Then he heard Sandstorm let out a faint sigh. She was gazing down at an eddy in the river, where the current had scoured out a hollow under the bank beneath a hazel bush. It looked almost exactly like the place where ThunderClan crossed the stream on the way to Fourtrees.

Firestar's thoughts went winging back to his own territory. How had ThunderClan fared at the Gathering the night before, and what did the other Clans think when they heard he had left the forest?

The idea that he might choose not to go back seemed as remote as the stars. He was ThunderClan's leader; the forest was where he belonged. Except for Sky, all the SkyClan cats were long gone. There was nothing more that Firestar could do for them. Once he had listened to the rest of Sky's story, and found out why the SkyClan cats had left the caves, it would be time to go home.

He and Sandstorm hunted and carried their fresh-kill back to the cave. But when he reached the entrance, Firestar stopped in surprise. The hollow in the cave floor was empty. Sky had gone.

Firestar flattened his ears in disappointment.
“I thought he would at least stay until we got back,” he meowed. “There's so much more I wanted to ask him.”

Sandstorm dropped her prey beside Firestar's and padded across to the hollow where Sky had slept. “He's used to being alone,” she pointed out. “I suppose he just didn't feel comfortable around other cats.”

Firestar twitched his tail tip, irritation raising the fur on his shoulders. “Now we'll have to trek all the way up the gorge again. I don't want to leave without speaking to him. I
have
to know more about SkyClan, especially why they left these caves.”

Sandstorm's green eyes glinted at him. Firestar was afraid she would think he was becoming obsessed with SkyClan, particularly when there was no Clan to restore, nothing but memories and sand.

“I'll feel as if I've failed the cat in my dreams if I don't find out what destroyed the Clan in the end,” he defended himself. “It wasn't just leaving the forest. They reached this place, and they could have thrived here, especially with their special
ability to leap. So what happened next? Why did they go?” He shook his head in frustration. “I
have
to know,” he repeated.

“It's okay.” Sandstorm pressed her muzzle against his. “I understand. And if—”

A panting, scraping noise from outside the cave interrupted her. Sky clambered into the cave; a huge bundle of moss was clamped in his jaws.

Relief flooded over Firestar. “You're still here!”

“And you found moss!” Sandstorm added.

The old cat dropped his burden and looked at her as if he thought she was mad. “You do use moss for bedding, don't you? I haven't dragged this stuff all the way up from the river for nothing?” He gave his nest of ferns a scathing look. “Maybe you enjoy being pricked all night.”

“Yes, we use moss,” Firestar meowed, “but we couldn't find any.”

Sky snorted. “I'll show you later.” He pushed the bundle of moss toward them with one paw. “There, put it in your nests. I don't need any; I won't be staying another night.”

“I wish you would.” Sandstorm brushed her muzzle against Sky's shoulder; the old cat tensed, but didn't protest. “There's so much you can tell us.”

Sky hesitated, then flicked his ears. “I'm not welcome here. Those kittypets…I've been driven out, just like my ancestors.”

“I'm sorry—” Firestar began.

“Don't feel sorry for me!” Sky's blue eyes flashed. “I've got a perfectly good den of my own. I don't need anything.”

His voice ached with a loneliness that contradicted his words.

Sandstorm padded across to the small fresh-kill pile she and Firestar had made, and picked out a plump vole, which she carried over to Sky. “Please eat,” she mewed.

The old cat's eyes glinted with surprise, but he crouched down to devour the vole. Sandstorm fetched a starling for herself, while Firestar used Sky's moss to line their nests. It was paler than the moss that grew in the forest, and he was still puzzled about where Sky had found it. There hadn't been time for the old cat to go far.

By the time Firestar settled down to eat, Sky was swallowing the last scraps of fresh-kill. “Thanks.” He grunted. “I've eaten worse.”

Sandstorm dipped her head. “Please, will you show us where you found the moss?” she asked. “And maybe some of the other places you remember from when you were young?”

Firestar gave Sandstorm an appreciative glance. It was a good idea to nudge the old cat along the path of his memories; he must want to share them, after being so long alone.

Sky rose to his paws and padded over to the cave entrance. His gaze fell on the scratch marks on the stone trunk; Firestar thought he flinched before he turned to look out at the hazy sky. “I'll show you the moss,” he meowed, “and the other places my mother used to take me. But we should go now. It's going to be a hot day, so we'll need to be back before sunhigh.”

Firestar gulped down the rest of his sparrow and stood up.
“I'm ready,” he mewed to Sky. “Lead the way.”

The elderly cat took the stony trail that led to the bottom of the gorge, then leaped up to the top of the pile of boulders where the river appeared. His movements were stiff, but Firestar was impressed by how agile he was, in spite of his age. Sky's flanks were heaving with effort by the time he reached the top, but as he turned back to watch Firestar and Sandstorm scrambling up after him, Firestar thought he could detect a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“This was called the Rockpile,” he announced once Firestar and Sandstorm were standing beside him, panting. “The SkyClan leader stood up here when he wanted to call a Clan meeting. The rest of the Clan gathered around the pool.” He flicked his tail toward the jutting rock high overhead, behind them. “You already know the Skyrock; that's where the Clan gathered at the full moon.”

“Why did SkyClan hold Gatherings when there weren't any other Clans?” Firestar asked.

The old cat's eyes clouded. “Because that is the way of the warrior. The Clan would gather there to be closer to the stars.” He turned away from the jutting rock. “Up there were the dens,” he went on, pointing to the caves with his tail. “The warriors used the one where we've been sleeping. Below that was the elders' den, and—”

“Oh, we thought the lowest den would be where the elders lived,” Sandstorm interrupted. “Because—” She broke off, giving her chest fur a few quick licks to cover her embarrassment.

“Because old cats are too stiff to climb?” Sky growled, though Firestar was sure that his eyes were warm. “No—SkyClan cats never lost the power to jump. That lowest den was the medicine cat's, close to the water and where the herbs grow.”

He went on to point out the nursery—which was the cave with the tiny claw marks Firestar and Sandstorm had picked out—the apprentices' den, and the Clan leader's, a little way away from the others, next to the trail that led up to the Skyrock.

“Did the river ever flood?” Sandstorm asked.

“Yes, but never as high as the warriors' cave,” Sky replied. “The whole Clan used to shelter there in the worst storms, so my mother said.”

He gazed up at the caves for a heartbeat longer, as if he were imagining the trails busy with cats. Then he gave himself a brisk shake. “Come on. I'll show you the moss.”

He jumped down from the highest boulder and picked his way down the pile on the opposite side of the river. Firestar wondered where he was going. They were uncomfortably near the black water where it appeared from among the rocks; did Sky expect them to swim?

Instead, the old cat veered around the lowest boulder and vanished. Firestar blinked. Where had he gone? Then he spotted a narrow ledge leading into the cave just above the level of the blue-green water.

A voice came from the darkness. “Are you coming or not?”

Firestar swallowed, exchanging a glance with Sandstorm.
His mate shrugged. “We can't not,” she mewed.

Carefully setting down his paws in a straight line, Firestar ventured onto the ledge. The rock was slick with water, and his claws skidded when he tried to cling to it. The river lapped less than a tail-length below his paws. “I must be mouse-brained!” he muttered.

To his relief, after a while the ledge grew wider and opened out into a shallow cave. The river slid silently out of the shadows ahead and past them to the cave entrance, now a ragged gap of light behind them.

Sky was standing at the edge of the shadows. Pale dappled light shone on his gray fur. “All the moss you could want,” he announced, sweeping his tail around.

Firestar stared in amazement. Behind the old cat, the walls of the cave were covered with thick hanging clumps of moss. But what really astonished Firestar was the eerie glow that came from it.

“Shining moss!” Sandstorm gasped.

“It's perfectly safe,” Sky assured her. “You can use it for carrying water as well as for bedding. No cat knows why it glows like that. This was called the Shining Cave,” he went on. “No cat lived here, but the SkyClan medicine cats came to share tongues with their ancestors at each quarter moon.”

Firestar felt humbled that Sky had brought them to such an important place. He was glad, too, that he and Sandstorm hadn't discovered it on their own. They might have taken the moss without realizing how special the cave was.

“Thank you for showing us,” he murmured to Sky. The
softly spoken words seemed to echo around the cave like a whole Clan of voices answering, and Firestar was relieved when the old cat led the way back to the sunlight.

Once they were all on the bank again, opposite the cave dens, Sky led them downstream until they reached the trees. Firestar noticed that Sky's stiffness seemed to be wearing off; he moved like a younger cat, as if exploring his ancestors' territory with visitors had given him another life. His tail held erect, he followed a twisting path through the undergrowth, farther than Firestar and Sandstorm had explored, until he reached a fallen tree that bridged the stream. Most of its branches had rotted away, and its trunk had been scoured to a silvery gray.

Sky leaped onto it and trotted confidently across to the far bank. Firestar and Sandstorm followed more cautiously, Firestar glancing down at the river bubbling underneath and digging his claws in as he crossed.

“This was the edge of SkyClan's territory,” Sky announced as they joined him on the bank. “And that's where I was born.”

He waved his tail toward a small cave at the bottom of the cliff, its entrance sheltered by a straggling bush. The sandy floor was littered with sharp little stones; Firestar tried to imagine what it would be like with a warm nest of moss and bracken, and a mother cat caring for her kits.

“What was your mother's name?” Sandstorm asked.

“Lowbranch,” the old cat replied. “I never knew my father—another rogue, I suppose. I had a littermate called Twig.”

“Does he still live here too?”

Sky stiffened, glaring briefly at Sandstorm. Instead of answering, he muttered, “This way,” and swung around to pad off upstream.

“Sorry,” Sandstorm whispered to Firestar. “I've obviously upset him. I wasn't trying to be nosy.”

“I know.” Firestar touched her ear with his muzzle. “I suppose Twig must be dead.”

Instead of returning to the caves, Sky began to climb the cliff again. This time there were no trails to follow; Firestar and Sandstorm had a hard scramble over tumbled rocks and along narrow ledges before they reached the top, panting and limping on paws scraped by sharp stones.

Sky was waiting for them, his tail tip twitching impatiently. His pale blue gaze raked across them, but he said nothing, only turned to lead the way through the strip of bushes and into the scrubland. Firestar and Sandstorm plunged into the undergrowth after him, and caught up to him a few tail-lengths into the open.

“Are we still in SkyClan territory?” Firestar panted.

Sky angled his ears toward a tree stump that poked up out of a bramble thicket. “That marks the border. My mother said her mother remembered when it was a tree. And that thicket is where I caught my first mouse.” His voice grew softer and he paused, as if he were looking back through long seasons to the young cat he had once been. Then a gleam of amusement appeared in his eyes. “Pricklenose was impressed,” he added. “I never told her that the bramble thorns
slowed the mouse down. It was an easy kill.”

“Pricklenose? Who—” Sandstorm broke off, in case this was another painful question. “Didn't Lowbranch teach you to hunt?”

“Pricklenose was my mother's friend. It was the custom for a mother cat to give her kits to another to be trained. Pricklenose trained me and Twig, and my mother took her kits.”

Firestar's ears pricked. “Why did they do that?”

Sky shrugged. “I don't know. It was the custom. Maybe they thought that a mother would be too soft on her own kits, or that she would be tempted to hunt for them instead of teaching them to do it for themselves.”

Firestar exchanged a glance with Sandstorm. “It's as if the mother cats were mentors,” he murmured. “They must have remembered something of the way warriors were trained when the cats still lived in SkyClan.”

“Their names are a bit like Clan names, too,” Sandstorm responded. “But somehow they don't sound quite right.”

“Do the rogue she-cats still train one another's kits?” Firestar asked Sky, turning back to the old cat.

“I've no idea.” Sky snorted. “I have nothing to do with the cats around here.”

He set off again. Firestar followed, battling frustration that all these echoes of Clan life were nothing more than that—echoes without meaning, if there were no SkyClan cats left.

“This is a waste of time,” he whispered to Sandstorm. “It's interesting, but we're not getting anywhere. We might as well go home.”

Sandstorm's green gaze was calm. “Wait. All sorts of things could happen yet.”

Firestar stared at her. Before he could ask her what she meant, Sky interrupted to show them a dark hole amid the roots of a gorse bush.

“That used to be a fox's den,” he meowed. His gaze grew somber. “Two kits were killed there once, my mother said.”

Firestar tasted the air, but there was no fox scent there now.

“It's close to Twolegplace,” Sandstorm commented, gazing toward the fences of the Twoleg nests.

“The nests used to be farther off, but then the Twolegs built more,” Sky told her. His tail lashed. “I can remember that happening when I was a kit. Huge monsters tearing up the ground, frightening off the prey with their noise.”

Firestar shivered. He was used to monsters racing along Thunderpaths; he couldn't imagine what it would be like if they crashed their way into a Clan's territory, tearing up trees and destroying the camp….