Firestar’s Quest

Firestar dug his claws into the ground in frustration. I’m a warrior! he thought resentfully. I don’t need to rest. “But Sandstorm might leave,” he meowed. He didn’t voice his other fear, that Shorty might wander off and Firestar would never see him again.

“Your friend won’t go anywhere by night in a strange place,” Cora snapped. “Not unless she’s flea-brained. Shorty, if you take him with you now, I’ll claw off the rest of your tail.”

Shorty shrugged good-humoredly. “I can’t argue with that,” he mewed to Firestar. “Don’t worry; I’ll take you to the place tomorrow.”

Firestar could do nothing but agree. He found a dip in the ground to sleep in, and though he was convinced that worry would keep him awake, he slept almost as soon as he curled up. This time no dreams disturbed him.

He woke the next morning to find himself lying in warm sunlight. Though he hadn’t wanted to delay, he had to admit that he felt much better. Springing to his paws he glanced around, but the only cat he could see was Stick, padding over to him with a mouse dangling from his jaws.

“Here you are,” he meowed, dropping his prey in front of Firestar. “Eat.”

“Where’s Shorty?”

Stick flicked his ears. “Dunno.”

“But he promised to take me to find Sandstorm!”

“Then he will. Keep your fur on; he’ll be back sooner or later.”

Firestar wasn’t sure. Muttering thanks for the fresh-kill, he crouched down to eat, his senses alert for the first sign of the tabby tom’s return. But he was still so weak that exhaustion crept up on him and he slept again.

He woke with a start to see the trees casting long black shadows across the stretch of open ground. Red light washed between them; the sun was sinking again!

Firestar scrambled up, his heart thudding in panic. He spotted Shorty, sitting under the nearest tree, his amber eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Firestar demanded.

“What for?” Shorty twitched his whiskers. “Don’t worry; we’ve got plenty of time.”

Firestar bit back what he would have liked to say. If he offended this cat, he might never find Sandstorm at all.

“Come back here if your friend’s not there,” Cora told him, padding up from behind. “We’ll ask around and see if we can find out anything else.”

“I’ll do that,” mewed Firestar. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” meowed Shorty. “Let’s go.”

The brown tabby leaped over the wall and into another of the confusing passages. Trotting down to the end and around a corner, he squeezed through a gap in a wooden fence.

Firestar followed and found himself behind bushes in another Twoleg garden. Night had fallen; yellow light poured from a single square hole in the wall of the Twoleg nest.

“This was the place,” Shorty murmured. “The young Twolegs live here. They caught your friend by that grass over there.”

He flicked his tail toward a clump of long grass in the middle of the garden. The stems rose for three or four tail-lengths, with plumy tops that glimmered yellow in the strange light. Keeping a cautious eye on the nest, Firestar crept into the open until he reached the clump.

He closed his eyes to concentrate better, and drew in air over his scent glands. The powerful scent of Twoleg flowers almost swamped everything else, but Firestar could distinguish the scent of Twolegs, several different kinds of prey, and… yes! Very faint, and growing stale, but still recognizable.

“Sandstorm!” he breathed. “She was here. She’s alive!”

Thank StarClan! he thought.

Shorty bounded up to him. “Any luck?”

“Yes—yes, it’s her. Which way did she go?”

Shorty pointed the stump of his tail toward the opposite fence. “Over there, into the next garden.”

Firestar raced across the grass to the fence; to his surprise Shorty kept pace with him. “You don’t have to come with me,” Firestar meowed.

Shorty flicked his ears. “That’s okay. I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind. Snowy’s bound to ask me if we found your friend.”

“Thanks,” mewed Firestar. Though he didn’t say so to Shorty, he was surprised that the rogues were being so helpful. He had been too quick to assume they would be his enemies.

The two cats scrambled over the next fence. Firestar thought he caught another trace of Sandstorm’s scent among the clumps of flowers, but the Twoleg scents were very strong here, and there was a powerful aroma of dog. His neck fur lifted when he heard it barking from the nest.

“I’ve lost her trail,” he told Shorty, padding up and down in frustration.

“Let’s follow the fence,” the tabby tom suggested. “We might pick up the spot where she left.”

“Good idea.” Firestar slipped along the bottom of the fence, concealed from the Twoleg nest by thick shrubs, but there were no other signs that Sandstorm had been there, not even the imprint of a paw in the soil. He wished he had Cloudtail with him; the white tom was the best tracker in ThunderClan.

StarClan help me! he prayed, gazing up at the glittering warriors of Silverpelt and wondering if they could see him when he was so far away from the forest.