Tallstar's Revenge (7 page)

“It's huge!” Tallpaw whispered. He dug his claws into the grass to steady himself against the buffeting wind. He felt an urge to charge into the heather and run as far as he could, but fear rooted his paws to the spot. What if he ran all the way out of the territory? What if he couldn't find his way back to camp?

“Look!” Dawnstripe flicked her tail to the slope on the far side of the camp. Birds were swooping low to the heather, then lifting high into the sky before turning for another dive. “Lapwings,” Dawnstripe explained. “They're defending their young. There must be a weasel nearby.”

“A weasel?” Tallpaw blinked at her. He'd never seen one of those on the fresh-kill pile. Were weasels dangerous? He glanced around nervously.

“Stay clear of them until you've learned some fighting moves,” Dawnstripe instructed. “They're fast and vicious and their bites carry infection. And they taste dreadful, so don't bother trying to catch one to eat.”

Shrewpaw burst from the tunnel and stared at Tallpaw. “Looking for rabbit holes to burrow in?”

Stagpaw pushed past him. “Stop blocking the entrance, rabbit-brain.”

Shrewpaw stumbled clear as Doepaw, Hareflight, Ryepaw, Aspenfall, Larksplash, and Cloudrunner streamed out behind him.

Cloudrunner stopped beside Dawnstripe. “Congratulations on getting an apprentice,” he purred. “Where are you taking him first?”

Stagpaw butted in before the golden tabby could answer. “We're practicing battle moves.”

Cloudrunner glanced sternly at his apprentice. “Once we've finished practicing
not interrupting.
”

“Sorry.” Stagpaw dropped his gaze.

A purr rumbled in Dawnstripe's throat. “He's just excited to have a new denmate.” She glanced at Tallpaw. “Are you ready?”

Tallpaw nodded. Behind Dawnstripe the moor swept down toward dense, dark green trees. Tallpaw could hear their leaves rustling from here. The trees grew so close; he imagined it being as dark as a tunnel underneath. “Is that where ThunderClan lives?” he whispered. How could they see to catch their prey?

“That's right,” Dawnstripe meowed. “Don't worry, we're not going to pay them a visit!”

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!”

C
HAPTER
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.

Suddenly he felt wind on his whiskers as the heather opened onto a grassy hilltop. Tallpaw blinked with relief as short, wind-dappled grass rolled away in front of him. He could breathe again! The grass sloped down to the Thunderpath, pale and flat and striking against the soft landscape. It was closer here, and Tallpaw flinched as a monster tore past, roaring louder than the wind. Beyond the Thunderpath, squares of grass marked out by thin rows of bushes surrounded a cluster of dark gray Twoleg nests and, farther still, tall cliffs marked the beginning of a range of jagged peaks. “Is that Highstones?” Tallpaw whispered, his gaze on the distant horizon.

“Highstones are the cliffs.” Dawnstripe stood beside him, her ears stiff against the streaming wind. “You'll travel there one day, when you visit Mothermouth and touch the Moonstone.”

Tallpaw shivered as the wind lifted his fur. Every WindClan apprentice shared tongues with StarClan at the Moonstone before they received their warrior name. He shifted his paws, trying to ignore his stinging pads. The long walk around WindClan's territory had left them tender and grazed. How would he ever make it to Highstones?

“Look out!” A voice echoed from the heather behind. “Mud-hole!” There was alarm in the mew.

Tallpaw whipped around and scanned the heather. “What was that?”

Dawnstripe padded toward a rabbit hole that was half-hidden between the roots of a bush. “The tunneling patrol's down there,” she explained.

Another voice echoed from the darkness. “Let's shore it up with rocks.”

“I shifted some back at the double fork.”

“Fetch them, before there's a slide.”

Tallpaw crept forward, sniffing. He smelled Plumclaw's scent, and Hickorynose. “Do you think they need help?” he asked warily. He didn't want to creep down into the earth.

“They know what they're doing,” Dawnstripe told him. “They won't want us getting in the way.” She headed away from the rabbit hole.

Tallpaw hurried after her. “Aren't we even going to look?” Surely the tunnels were part of WindClan territory? Their Clanmates might be in trouble.

“I'm a moor runner. I don't go underground if I can help it.” Dawnstripe shook her pelt as though she were shaking out soil. “One of the tunnelers will take you down during your training and teach you the basics of hunting and patrolling down there.”

Tallpaw tried to ignore the tightening in his chest.
I will be able to breathe underground; I will.
Instead he gazed toward the distant horizon, relishing the wind that lifted his fur. He lifted his chin.
If Shrewpaw, Ryepaw, Stagpaw, and Doepaw can survive basic tunnel training, so can I.
As Dawnstripe headed through a gorse patch, Tallpaw raced to catch up. He was relieved to feel the ground smooth underpaw, well trod by sheep. His paws burned with every step and he winced as he hopped over a lump of dirt-berries. “Where are we going now?”

“Camp.” Dawnstripe glanced at him. “You must be tired.”

“No,” Tallpaw lied. “I could stay out for days.”

A purr rumbled in Dawnstripe's throat. “Did you like what you saw?”

Tallpaw nodded enthusiastically. “I didn't imagine WindClan territory was so huge.”

“We guard the edge of the world,” Dawnstripe told him. “The other Clans sit cozy in their marshes and woods, fed by the river and sheltered by our moor. They never know the true taste of the wind or the scent of first snow. There's no Clan cat faster or more nimble than a WindClan cat.” She glanced at Tallpaw's long, black tail. “You'll have good balance. It won't be long before you can outpace a rabbit even on rough ground.”

“I was named for my tail.” Tallpaw puffed out his chest. He remembered what Sandgorse had told Heatherstar: that it was a tunneler's tail and would make it easy to drag him from a cave-in. Relief flooded Tallpaw's pelt. He'd never have to face a cave-in now that he was going to be a moor runner. Then he pictured Sandgorse's eyes, dark with disappointment. Guilt formed a lump in his throat as the gorse opened onto heather and Tallpaw glimpsed the hollow cradling the camp. He broke into a run, overtaking Dawnstripe and racing for the entrance. His paws skidded on the grass as he swung around and ducked through the gap in the heather to burst into the clearing beyond.

Barkpaw called from outside the medicine den. “You're back!” He raced across the tussocks and skidded to a halt in front of Tallpaw. “What did you see?”

Tallpaw winced at the sharp tang of herbs wafting from his friend. “Everything! Fourtrees, ThunderClan territory, and RiverClan and ShadowClan. And the Highstones.” His pelt pricked suddenly. “And the gorge.”

“Ryepaw said you nearly fell into it.” Barkpaw rubbed green sap from his nose.

“Is Ryepaw back already?” Tallpaw scanned the camp and spotted her sharing prey with Shrewpaw and Stagpaw outside the apprentices' den. She had feathers in her whiskers.

“She and Larksplash caught a grouse,” Barkpaw told him.

Tallpaw could smell its scent wafting across the grass. His belly rumbled. “Do you want to share a mouse?”

Barkpaw glanced back at the medicine den. “I'll have to check with Hawkheart.”

“I'll fetch one from the prey heap.” Tallpaw headed across the grass. His paws stung and he almost tripped.

“Are you okay?” Barkpaw darted in front of him. “Is it a thorn?”

“My pads are sore from walking.” Tallpaw lifted a forepaw and sniffed it gingerly. There was a faint scent of blood.

Barkpaw leaned closer. “It's just a bit grazed,” he told him. “Mine were the same after Hawkheart took me out herb-gathering the first time. Your pads will toughen up.”

“Are you checking for sores, Wormpaw?” Shrewpaw was marching toward them, puffing feathers from his muzzle.

“Stop calling me that!” Tallpaw glared at him. “Heatherstar made me a moor runner, remember?”

“A real moor runner wouldn't look so tired,” Shrewpaw snorted. “You were born to be a tunneler. Stick to digging, Wormpaw, and leave moor-running to cats with tougher pads.”