Tallstar's Revenge (3 page)

Sandgorse licked a sprig of moss from Tallkit's ear and spat it onto the grass. “It's time you learned to dig.”

Disappointment dropped like a stone in Tallkit's belly. He didn't want to dig. He wanted to see the moor and feel the wind in his pelt.

“Tallkit's going to go worming!” Shrewkit jeered from the Hunting Stones.

Tallkit spun around crossly. “Worms don't
dig
!”

“Ignore Shrewkit!” Barkkit stepped in front of his littermate. “He's just teasing.”

Sandgorse snorted. “Typical moor-kit, scared of getting sand in his eyes.” He headed for the tunnelers' bracken patch. Tallkit scrambled after him and ducked under Sandgorse's belly as he stopped beside Woollytail's nest. Tallkit peeped out, relishing the warmth of his father's fur on his spine.

“Do you think sticks will be strong enough to hold up the roof?” Sandgorse wondered.

Woollytail frowned. “They'll do until we can roll stones into place.”

“Perhaps we should take a different route to the gorge.” Above Tallkit's head, Sandgorse's belly twitched.

Woollytail shook his head. “We can't be far from clay now. It'll be harder digging, but there'll be fewer cave-ins.”

Sandgorse glanced toward the elders' den. Tallkit guessed he was thinking about Lilywhisker's crushed leg. “Perhaps we should explore the rabbit warrens higher up. There may be a clay seam there we can dig into.”

“But we've made so much progress over leaf-bare,” Woollytail argued. “It'd be a shame to start again.” The tom's muscular shoulders twitched. They were as wide and toned as Sandgorse's.

Will I have shoulders like that when I'm a tunneler?
Tallkit's gaze strayed across the camp to Cloudrunner and Aspenfall. They were much sleeker: built for speed, not strength. Tallkit wondered what it felt like to run across the moor with the wind rushing through his fur. Surely that would be better than being squashed underground? He imagined his ears and nose filling up with mud, and shuddered.

“Come on, Tallkit.” Sandgorse's mew broke into his thoughts. His father was heading for the moor runners' nests. Tallkit scampered after him and followed him past the swishing stalks to a patch of bare earth behind Tallrock.

“There's good digging here,” Sandgorse explained, running his paw over the ground. “This is where I first learned to tunnel.”

Tallkit gazed down at the churned earth and wondered how many times this patch had been dug and refilled, ready for new tunnelers to practice. “Don't you ever get bored of digging?” he mewed.

“Being a tunneler doesn't just mean digging,” Sandgorse retorted. “Hollowing out new earthroutes is part of being a tunneler. But we patrol them, too, and it's a great place to hunt, especially during leaf-bare. Don't forget, that's why Shattered Ice first tunneled through the rabbit warrens.”

Tallkit already knew the legend of Shattered Ice. It was one of the first nursery stories Palebird ever told him. Long ago, the moor was gripped by the worst leaf-bare the Clan had ever known. There was no prey to be found in the snow-drowned stretches of heather and gorse. So one of WindClan's bravest warriors had gone into the rabbit warrens and dug deep beyond them in search of food for their Clan.

“He cared more for his Clan than his own safety,” Sandgorse meowed solemnly. “And he didn't have any of the training or experience we have now.”

He had only his courage and strength.
Tallkit stifled a yawn.

“He had only his courage and strength,” Sandgorse went on. “WindClan has tunneled ever since, learning more with each generation.” He lifted his chin. “Without its tunnelers, WindClan would have suffered many hungry, preyless moons.”

Tallkit's pelt pricked guiltily. How could he dream of running across the moors like Cloudrunner and Aspenfall? One day his Clan would depend on him. He should be proud to follow in his father's paw steps. Unsheathing his claws, he began to scrape at the earth, sending it showering behind him.

“Wait.” Sandgorse swept his tail over Tallkit's spine. “You're not digging a hole to make dirt.”

Tallkit sat back and shook his head to dislodge some flakes of dirt. There were different ways to dig?

Sandgorse thrust a paw into the soft soil and scooped out a lump of earth. Pushing it firmly to one side, he dug another. Within moments, he was hollowing out dirt, paw over paw, while a pile grew beside him, neat and compact. Tallkit felt a quiver of pride. His father looked strong and determined, as if there was no hole he couldn't dig, no earth he couldn't shape with his paws.

“Let me try.” Tallkit reached down past his father and gouged out a pawful of the crumbling earth.

Sandgorse sat back. Tallkit felt his father's gaze on his pelt, warmer than sunshine. He dug harder, dragging up pawfuls and throwing them into a loose pile beside his fast-growing hole. “I'm tunneling!” he squeaked.

“Watch out!”

As Sandgorse mewed a warning, Tallkit's flank bumped his dig-pile. Cold, crumbly soil cascaded around his ears. It sprinkled over his muzzle, making him sneeze. He sat up, shaking out his fur, and stared crossly at the earth that was still showering into his hole.

Sandgorse pressed his paw against the pile to stop the flow. “Your dig-pile is as important as your hole. You must keep it compact. Press your dug-earth down firmly or you'll have to dig every pawful twice.”

Tallkit frowned. This was harder than he thought. Concentrating, he dove back into his hole and hauled up a fresh pawful of soil. He carefully patted it into the side of his dig-pile. This time it stayed where he put it, and he reached into the hole with both paws and began scooping, paw over paw, taking time to press each lump into his pile just as Sandgorse had done.

“Very good, Tallkit.” There was pride in Sandgorse's mew.

Tallkit swallowed back a purr and kept digging. The hole was so deep now that his hind legs ached each time he reached down.

“Slow down,” Sandgorse warned.

“I'm okay—” As Tallkit answered, his hind paws shot out from beneath him. Muzzle first, he crashed into the hole. Pain seared through his paws as they twisted the wrong way, his claws bending back as they caught on the soil. A wave of earth smothered him, choking him and pushing him farther into the hole.
Help! I'm being buried alive!

Teeth sank into his tail, dragging him up. “Are you okay?” Sandgorse let go and stared into Tallkit's face.

“No!” Tallkit's muzzle throbbed and his claws burned. “I can't do this! I hate digging holes, and I don't want to be a tunneler!” A wail rose in his belly as soil stung his eyes. “Palebird!” Chest heaving, he turned and raced for the nursery.

C
HAPTER
2

Sandgorse bounded after him. “You were
doing really well.”

“I was not!” Anger surged through Tallkit as his eyes watered from the grit. “I fell in! And hurt my claws!” He stumbled to a halt outside the nursery and held up a paw.

“You just snagged them. They'll be okay.”

Tallkit blinked through tears. “You don't know that!” Hazily he spotted Palebird's black-and-white pelt at the nursery entrance.

“Tallkit!” She slid onto the grass. “What happened?”

Tallkit flung himself against her soft fur. “I fell in and soil got in my eyes.” He screwed them up as Palebird began to lap at them gently.

“Is that better?” She paused and waited while he opened them gingerly. The stinging had stopped. He shook his head, spraying earth from his ears.

“I hurt my paws, too.”

Palebird leaned down and sniffed them. “They're fine,” she mewed. “Let's go inside.”

“Tallkit!” Sandgorse stepped closer. “You can't give up yet!”

“Leave him,” Palebird murmured. “He's frightened.”

Tallkit glanced over his shoulder. Sandgorse's green eyes were round with worry. “I'll try again later,” he meowed reluctantly.

“We'll see.” Palebird nosed him gently into the den.

“He's got to learn—”

Tallkit didn't hear the rest of his father's mew. Palebird's fur was swishing in his ears as she guided him to their nest. He curled into the soft sheepswool lining. “Where's Brackenwing?” Barkkit's mother was gone. “And Mistmouse?” The ginger queen's nest was empty and there was no sign of Ryekit, Doekit, or Stagkit.

“Brackenwing's at the prey heap.” Palebird settled into the nest beside him. “Mistmouse went hunting.”

“Hunting?” Queens didn't hunt. They looked after their kits.

Palebird sighed. “She's missed being out on the moor these past moons. And her kits don't need her anymore.”

The entrance to the nursery rustled as Brackenwing pushed her way in. She carried with her the scent of fresh rabbit. “Who's missed the moor?” Heather rustled as she settled into her nest.

“Mistmouse,” Palebird told her.

Brackenwing ran her tongue around her lips. “I haven't felt the wind in my fur for too long,” she mewed wistfully.

Tallkit nestled against Palebird. “Do you miss being underground?” She'd been a tunneler before he'd been born.

“Of course.”

Tallkit wasn't convinced. Who'd
want
to spend the day in the dark?

Brackenwing flicked her tail over her paws. “You won't be tunneling for a while, Palebird.” The ginger queen's mew sounded ominous.

Tallkit's gaze flicked anxiously toward his mother. “Why not?”

“My kitting was hard. I lost Finchkit.” Palebird shifted beside him. “It'll take me a bit longer to recover.”

Tallkit searched her gaze. He could never tell whether his mother was sad or just tired. “Why did Finchkit die? Did you kit her wrong?”

“Hush!”

Brackenwing's sharp mew surprised him. Had he said something bad? Palebird
liked
talking about Finchkit. “Did StarClan want her?” he pressed.

Palebird sighed. “I guess they did.”

But not me.
Why had StarClan left him with Palebird? Perhaps they wanted him to cheer her up. “What color was Finchkit's pelt?” Tallkit asked.

Palebird's gaze clouded. “Ginger, like your father's.”

“I don't know why you gave Finchkit a name,” Brackenwing muttered.

“She
needed
a name,” Palebird answered.

“She only lived for a moment.” Brackenwing frowned. “StarClan would have named her.”

Tallkit felt his mother tremble. Talking about Finchkit didn't seem to be cheering her up. He pawed at her cheek softly, trying to distract her. “I've got sand in my ears.”

“Have you, dear?” Palebird leaned down and began washing his ear fur.

Relieved to feel her soften beside him, Tallkit snuggled closer. He didn't even remember Finchkit.
Am I supposed to?

A shadow darkened the nursery entrance. “Have you calmed him down yet?” Sandgorse stuck his head through the gorse. “The sooner he starts digging again, the better.”

“I've just gotten him cleaned up,” Palebird objected.

“We'll practice some other skills,” Sandgorse promised.

Tallkit ducked out from under his mother's muzzle. “Are you sure it's okay?” he mewed, blinking up at her. He didn't want to leave Palebird if she was still sad, but Sandgorse sounded so eager for him to go.

“Whatever you want, dear.” Her gaze drifted away.

Tallkit felt a jab of disappointment. Didn't she want him to stay? He stood up.
She wants me to train so I can be as strong as Sandgorse.
He clambered over the side of the nest. “See you later.”

Palebird didn't answer. She was staring blankly at the den wall.

“Come on, Tallkit.” Sandgorse brushed his way through the nursery entrance.

Tallkit followed. He was pleased to see his father's gaze brighten as slithered onto the snowy grass beside him.

“I knew one little fall wouldn't put you off.” Sandgorse whisked Tallkit forward with his tail. “Let's practice moving stones. Tunnelers have to learn to move rocks much heavier than themselves.”

“Really?” Tallkit scampered at his side as they crossed the camp.

“It's an important skill.” Sandgorse nodded toward a row of rocks clustered beside the elders' den. “Let's try these. Just small ones to begin with.”

Small ones?
Tallkit stared at the stones. They were as big as sparrows.

Sandgorse stopped beside the nearest, and beckoned Tallkit closer with a twitch of his tail. “Grab it with your forepaws, and use your weight to roll it toward you.”

Tallkit swallowed. “Won't it squash me?”

“The first rule of tunneling is that you're always stronger than you think,” Sandgorse told him.

Brown fur flashed at the corner of Tallkit's gaze.

“I touched your tail!
You're
the rabbit now!”

“Did not!”

“Did so.”

Shrewkit and Barkkit were chasing each other over the Hunting Stones. Heather sprigs quivered in their wake.

Sandgorse nudged the rock toward Tallkit. “Roll this one.”

Tallkit stared at it.

“Why do I always have to be the rabbit?”

“You don't!”

Flattening his ears to block out the sound of his denmates playing, Tallkit reached up and rested his forepaws on the rock. With a grunt, he tried to heave it toward him. His belly tightened with the effort, but the stone didn't move.

“Let's try a smaller one.” Sandgorse pushed another stone closer.

As Tallkit reached for it, Flailfoot padded out of the elders' den. His black pelt moved like a shadow against the frosty gorse. “He's a bit young to be moving rocks.”

Sandgorse sniffed. “It's never too early to start learning tunneling skills.”

Flailfoot sat down. “I didn't move my first stone till I was an apprentice.”

Tallkit gritted his teeth.
I'm going to move it!
Hissing under his breath, he heaved. His claws slipped. His hind legs buckled. With a gasp, he fell backward and landed on his tail.

“Nice move, Wormkit!” Shrewkit called from the Hunting Stones.

Tallkit turned on him, ears flat. “I'm
learning
!”

“Take no notice,” Sandgorse advised. “Shrewkit thinks like a moor runner. He doesn't understand patience.”

Tallkit's heart sank. Would he have to spend the whole day trying to shift this dumb rock while Shrewkit and Barkkit played Rabbit on the Hunting Stones?

Heatherstar's mew rang through the cold air. “Let all cats old enough to catch prey gather beneath Tallrock.”

Tallkit jerked around. The WindClan leader stood on top of the dark stone in the middle of the Meeting Hollow.

“Wait here,” Sandgorse ordered. He trotted across camp and bounded into the sandy hollow.

Flailfoot brushed past Tallkit. “Try starting with a smaller stone,” he suggested as he headed after Sandgorse.

Tallkit sat back on his haunches and watched his Clanmates streaming toward Tallrock. Aspenfall and Cloudrunner bounded down into the snow-whitened circle, lithe and light-footed. Redclaw and Dawnstripe followed. Meadowslip and Larksplash were already staring up expectantly at Heatherstar. They shifted to let the other moor runners settle beside them.

Sandgorse headed for the opposite end of the hollow, where the tunnelers sat, and stopped beside Woollytail and Hickorynose. Flailfoot jumped stiffly down beside them. Tail high, the old tunneler nodded to Reedfeather. The WindClan deputy, who was sitting at the foot of Tallrock, dipped his head in return.

Barkkit bounced toward Tallkit, eyes bright. “Aren't you coming?” Shrewkit was already scrambling away across the tussocks.

Tallkit blinked. “But we're not old enough to catch prey.”

“How do you know?” Barkkit shrugged. “You've never tried. Besides, we won't sit with the warriors. We can watch from over there.” He pointed with his nose to where Shrewkit was threading his way through the long grass that edged the moor runners' nests. “Come on.”

As Tallkit scampered after Barkkit, the camp entrance shivered. Lilywhisker and Whiteberry hurried in.

“Have they started?” Lilywhisker called to Flailfoot as she limped across camp.

“Not yet.” Flailfoot padded to the edge of the hollow and reached up to steady Lilywhisker as she scrambled down on her three good legs. She joined the tunnelers while Whiteberry headed for the moor runners on the far side of the hollow.

Mistmouse paced the rim, brushing past her mate, Hareflight. The brown tom stood as stiff as the trunk of a gorse bush, as though his claws had taken root. Tallkit paused beside the moor runners' nests and watched them curiously. Mistmouse's kits, Ryekit, Stagkit, and Doekit, were standing beside the two warriors.

“In here.” Barkkit nudged Tallkit into the grass beside Shrewkit.

Tallkit pushed through the long stems. “What are
they
doing at the hollow?” He jerked his nose toward Hareflight's kits.

“I don't know.” Barkkit burrowed deeper into the grass and peeped out.

“Hush!” Shrewkit hissed beside them. “I'm trying to hear.” His yellow eyes were fixed on the Meeting Hollow.

Heatherstar sprang down from Tallrock and weaved past her Clanmates until she reached the center. Mistmouse was fiercely smoothing the fur between Stagkit's ears. Hareflight nudged Doekit and Ryekit closer to the edge.

“Ryekit, Doekit, and Stagkit!” Heatherstar called.

Tallkit felt Barkkit stiffen beside him. “It's their apprentice ceremony!”

Tallkit leaned forward.

“Woollytail will get one of them,” Shrewkit guessed.

“But Hareflight's a moor runner,” Barkkit reminded him.

“So?” Shrewkit whispered. “Woollytail's been complaining for ages that WindClan needs more tunnelers. And Mistmouse will want at least one of her kits to follow in her paw steps.” He glanced at Tallkit. “I feel sorry for you. Being a tunneler must be awful.”

Tallkit scowled at him. “Sandgorse says it's the noblest warrior life.”

“Sandgorse would,” Shrewkit scoffed. “He's had so much mud in his ears it's probably filled up his head.”

Tallkit unsheathed his claws, anger surging beneath his pelt. “That's not true!”

Barkkit pressed against him softly. “Just watch the ceremony,” he murmured.

Stagkit was leading his sisters into the hollow. Ryekit's paws slipped and she slithered down the icy slope. Warm purrs rumbled around her as she straightened and shook out her soft gray fur.

“Rye
paw
.” Heatherstar met her gaze. The new apprentice's eyes widened. “Your mentor will be Larksplash.” Ryepaw purred loudly as Larksplash stepped from among the moor runners and touched her head with her muzzle.