hungry,” Bluepaw answered.
“Eat anyway,” Featherwhisker advised. “Your Clan needs you to be strong.”
“Okay.” Bluepaw nodded, and she turned toward the fresh-kill pile. She chose a sparrow and carried it to where her denmates lay beside the mossy tree stump.
Leopardpaw and Patchpaw were absorbed in eating. Snowpaw was staring blankly at a mouse, newly caught and still soft and fragrant.
“Not hungry?” Bluepaw mewed.
“Not very.” Snowpaw looked up, trying to look bright but failing miserably.
“Neither am I.” Bluepaw tossed her sparrow onto the ground and sat down. “But Featherwhisker says we need to eat so we are strong.”
Behind them, the den of ferns swished in the wind.
Leopardpaw looked up, her mouth full. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about,” she mumbled. “You won’t even be fighting.”
Bluepaw stared at her, round-eyed. “Aren’t you scared?”
“I know every battle move there is,” the black apprentice boasted. “No WindClan cat’s going to beat me.”
Patchpaw looked less sure. “I’ve been practicing my attack moves all day,” he mewed. “I just hope I can remember my defensive ones as well.”
“You’ll remember,” Leopardpaw reassured him. “Besides, we won’t let WindClan make it as far as here. The most trouble you’ll have is keeping Thistlekit quiet.” She purred. “That might take a battle move or two.”
Bluepaw was suddenly very aware that she knew no battle moves at all. Perhaps she should learn one, just in case. She watched Stormtail on the far side of the clearing showing Dappletail how to roll and then jump with her forepaws extended in a vicious attack.
“Remember,” he was telling her, “keep your claws sheathed until the leap.”
Dappletail tried the move again, sitting up afterward and looking pleased.
“Good.” Stormtail nodded. “But you need to be faster. We’re bigger and heavier than WindClan cats, but they are nimble and will take advantage of any slowness.”
I could ask Stormtail to teach me a few battle moves, just in case . But the gray warrior looked too busy with a real warrior. Bluepaw sighed and nudged her sparrow with her nose, working herself up to take a bite even though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow it.
“Not hungry?”
Pinestar’s mew made her jump.
He stood at the tree stump and looked over the apprentices. “A good meal tonight will mean a good battle tomorrow.”
Bluepaw lowered her gaze. What kind of warrior was too scared to eat on the eve of a battle?
Pinestar’s eyes glowed in the half-light. “I remember my first battle,” he meowed. “Sweetbriar insisted I eat a shrew, but I hid it when her back was turned and then told her it was delicious.”
“Really?” Bluepaw couldn’t decide what startled her more: that the ThunderClan leader had ever been afraid orthat he had lied to his mother.
“Really,” he purred. “She didn’t believe me, of course. All cats fear their first battle.”
“Does that mean we don’t have to eat?” Bluepaw mewed hopefully.
“Not if you don’t want to.” Pinestar flicked his tail. “It’s natural to be nervous. Only a mouse-brain would rush into battle without fear.” Was he glancing at Adderfang as he spoke? “But remember: You are ThunderClan cats, natural-born warriors. Trust your instincts. And we’ll be fighting Clan cats, not loners or rogues. They won’t go out of their way to harm youngsters like you.”
Snowpaw stood up, fluffing out her fur. “We don’t need special treatment.”
Pinestar’s whiskers twitched. “And you won’t get any,” he assured her. “I’m relying on you two to stay alert and do exactly as you’re told, as soon as you’re told. Lives may depend on how quickly you act.”
Bluepaw’s heart began to pound again.
“But,” Pinestar went on, “I know you’ll do your best and StarClan will guide your paws.” He glanced at Leopardpaw and Patchpaw. “All of you.”
Before
“Eat anyway,” Featherwhisker advised. “Your Clan needs you to be strong.”
“Okay.” Bluepaw nodded, and she turned toward the fresh-kill pile. She chose a sparrow and carried it to where her denmates lay beside the mossy tree stump.
Leopardpaw and Patchpaw were absorbed in eating. Snowpaw was staring blankly at a mouse, newly caught and still soft and fragrant.
“Not hungry?” Bluepaw mewed.
“Not very.” Snowpaw looked up, trying to look bright but failing miserably.
“Neither am I.” Bluepaw tossed her sparrow onto the ground and sat down. “But Featherwhisker says we need to eat so we are strong.”
Behind them, the den of ferns swished in the wind.
Leopardpaw looked up, her mouth full. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about,” she mumbled. “You won’t even be fighting.”
Bluepaw stared at her, round-eyed. “Aren’t you scared?”
“I know every battle move there is,” the black apprentice boasted. “No WindClan cat’s going to beat me.”
Patchpaw looked less sure. “I’ve been practicing my attack moves all day,” he mewed. “I just hope I can remember my defensive ones as well.”
“You’ll remember,” Leopardpaw reassured him. “Besides, we won’t let WindClan make it as far as here. The most trouble you’ll have is keeping Thistlekit quiet.” She purred. “That might take a battle move or two.”
Bluepaw was suddenly very aware that she knew no battle moves at all. Perhaps she should learn one, just in case. She watched Stormtail on the far side of the clearing showing Dappletail how to roll and then jump with her forepaws extended in a vicious attack.
“Remember,” he was telling her, “keep your claws sheathed until the leap.”
Dappletail tried the move again, sitting up afterward and looking pleased.
“Good.” Stormtail nodded. “But you need to be faster. We’re bigger and heavier than WindClan cats, but they are nimble and will take advantage of any slowness.”
I could ask Stormtail to teach me a few battle moves, just in case . But the gray warrior looked too busy with a real warrior. Bluepaw sighed and nudged her sparrow with her nose, working herself up to take a bite even though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow it.
“Not hungry?”
Pinestar’s mew made her jump.
He stood at the tree stump and looked over the apprentices. “A good meal tonight will mean a good battle tomorrow.”
Bluepaw lowered her gaze. What kind of warrior was too scared to eat on the eve of a battle?
Pinestar’s eyes glowed in the half-light. “I remember my first battle,” he meowed. “Sweetbriar insisted I eat a shrew, but I hid it when her back was turned and then told her it was delicious.”
“Really?” Bluepaw couldn’t decide what startled her more: that the ThunderClan leader had ever been afraid orthat he had lied to his mother.
“Really,” he purred. “She didn’t believe me, of course. All cats fear their first battle.”
“Does that mean we don’t have to eat?” Bluepaw mewed hopefully.
“Not if you don’t want to.” Pinestar flicked his tail. “It’s natural to be nervous. Only a mouse-brain would rush into battle without fear.” Was he glancing at Adderfang as he spoke? “But remember: You are ThunderClan cats, natural-born warriors. Trust your instincts. And we’ll be fighting Clan cats, not loners or rogues. They won’t go out of their way to harm youngsters like you.”
Snowpaw stood up, fluffing out her fur. “We don’t need special treatment.”
Pinestar’s whiskers twitched. “And you won’t get any,” he assured her. “I’m relying on you two to stay alert and do exactly as you’re told, as soon as you’re told. Lives may depend on how quickly you act.”
Bluepaw’s heart began to pound again.
“But,” Pinestar went on, “I know you’ll do your best and StarClan will guide your paws.” He glanced at Leopardpaw and Patchpaw. “All of you.”
Before
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