The Apprentice's Quest

“Well, we had to meet them sometime,” Alderpaw responded. He slid past Needlepaw to take the lead and padded down a couple of tail-lengths, as far as a wide ledge. “We’ll wait for them here—and for StarClan’s sake, remember that we’re here to help. We’re not looking for a fight.”

He had hardly finished speaking when the SkyClan cats came into sight, springing confidently up the narrow path until they faced the questing cats on the ledge.

The gray tom took another pace forward until he stood nose to nose with Alderpaw, who tried not to flinch as the SkyClan cat’s cold green gaze raked over him. This was a powerful cat, his shoulder fur bristling and his tail bushed up.

“If you’ve come for the territory,” he snarled, “you can think again. You’re way outnumbered.”

Alderpaw hesitated, wondering if he should respond.

Although it was his quest, Molewhisker and Cherryfall were the senior cats now that Sandstorm wasn’t with them anymore. Maybe they should be the ones to speak.

But when Alderpaw glanced back at Molewhisker and Cherryfall, neither of them moved. It’s up to me, then, he thought, turning back toward the hostile long-furred tom.

“We don’t want your territory,” he explained, his voice quiet and calm. “But we’ve traveled a long way to meet you—the cats of SkyClan who live in this gorge.”

The gray tom tilted his head to one side, a glint in his green eyes. “What do cats from far away know about SkyClan?” he asked.

“Not much,” Alderpaw admitted, “but we’re here to learn more.”

The tom let out a disdainful snort. “Then you’d better come and speak to our leader.” He jerked his head to indicate that they should follow him, then turned and padded back down the path.

Alderpaw had only taken a single paw step to follow him when Sparkpaw pushed forward to his side. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered.

Would you be so doubtful if another cat were leading us, and not me? Alderpaw wanted to hiss the words at his sister, but he bit them back with clenched jaws. “Bramblestar sent us on this journey,” he murmured.

“Wherever it leads must be right.”

The three cats who had accompanied the gray tom parted to let the traveling cats pass, then closed in around them. As he got a closer look, Alderpaw saw that one was a black tom, and the others were she-cats: one tabby and one with white fur stained with dirt and dust. In fact, all four cats looked as if they could do with a good grooming.

Don’t SkyClan cats ever wash? Alderpaw asked himself. He could just imagine what any

ThunderClan mentor would say to an apprentice who went around looking like that.

Then he reminded himself that SkyClan had been driven out of their original territory and exiled to this gorge. They had lived separately from the other Clans for so long, maybe it wasn’t surprising they had slightly different customs.

As they padded down the path, Needlepaw sidled past Alderpaw and caught up the gray tom in the lead. “What’s your name?” she asked.

The gray tom’s ears flicked in surprise—Alderpaw guessed at the ShadowClan apprentice’s confident tone. “I’m called Rain,” he replied.

Just Rain? Alderpaw wondered why

Needlepaw didn’t ask that question. They probably do things differently, he told himself again. Even names. But he was sure he remembered Sandstorm mentioning SkyClan cats called Leafstar, Sharpclaw, and Echosong.

Those are proper warrior names. But then, Sandstorm was here so long ago…

By now Needlepaw was walking beside

Rain, chatting without a trace of apprehension.

Thinking that perhaps she had the right idea, Alderpaw turned toward the tabby she-cat, who was the closest to him of their escort.

“Hi, my name’s Alderpaw,” he began.

The tabby she-cat ignored him, except for one glance from baleful yellow eyes.

Okay, be like that, Alderpaw thought. He was disappointed that the SkyClan cats didn’t seem more welcoming, but he told himself that perhaps they would open up once they knew him and his companions better and discovered why they were there.

The long-furred tom led Alderpaw and his companions up to the pile of rocks where the river gushed out. Sitting at the base of the rock pile was a strong, muscular tom, his white fur broken up by black spots around his eyes and his long, black tail. Sunlight gleamed on his glossy pelt, and his blue eyes shone as he surveyed the newcomers.