Into the Wild by Erin Hunter Page A

apprentices has seen a fox in the area. Warn the other queens to guard the nursery carefully. And make sure all kits less than six moons stay inside the camp until our warriors have driven it away.”
    Frostfur nodded. “I will pass on the warning, Bluestar. Thank you.” Then she turned and squeezed back into the nursery to quiet the crying kits.
    At last Bluestar strode over to the pile of fresh-kill and took her share. A plump wood pigeon had been left for her there. Firepaw looked on longingly as she carried it away to eat with the senior warriors.
    Finally his hunger drove him forward. Graypaw was with Ravenpaw, wolfing down a small finch beside the tree stump. He saw Firepaw approach the pile and flicked his head encouragingly. Firepaw bent his neck, ready to take a small wood mouse in his teeth.
    â€œNot for you,” Tigerclaw growled, striding up behind him and pawing the mouse away. “You didn’t bring back any prey. The elders will eat your share. Take it to them.”
    Firepaw looked over to Bluestar.
    She nodded shortly. “Do as he says.”
    Obediently, Firepaw picked up the mouse and carried it across to Smallear. The delicious smell of it wafted up Firepaw’s nose. He wanted nothing more than to crunch it up with his strong teeth. He could almost feel its life energy flooding his young body.
    With great self-control, he laid the prey down in front of the gray tom and then backed away politely. He expected no thanks and was offered none.
    Now he was glad that he had gobbled up the remains of the rabbit he had caught for Yellowfang. There would be nothing else for him to eat until he went out hunting again tomorrow.
    Firepaw wandered over to Graypaw. His friend had eaten his fill and lay with Ravenpaw outside the apprentices’ den. He was stretched out on his side, rhythmically washing a foreleg.
    Graypaw saw Firepaw approach, and paused in his licking. “Has Bluestar mentioned your punishment yet?” he asked.
    â€œNot yet,” Firepaw replied gloomily.
    Graypaw narrowed his eyes sympathetically and said nothing.
    Bluestar’s call sounded across the clearing. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join together for a meeting of our Clan.”
    Most of the warriors had finished eating and, like Graypaw, were busy grooming themselves. They lifted themselvesgracefully to their paws and walked over to the Highrock, where Bluestar waited to speak.
    â€œCome on,” mewed Graypaw. He leaped up. Ravenpaw and Firepaw followed him as he scampered over and nudged his way forward into a good position.
    â€œI’m sure you have all heard about the prisoner we brought back with us today,” Bluestar began. “But there is something else you need to know.” She glanced down at the raddled she-cat who lay very still beside the Highrock. “Can you hear me from there?” she asked.
    â€œI may be old, but I’m not deaf yet!” Yellowfang spat in reply.
    Bluestar ignored the prisoner’s hostile tone and continued. “I’m afraid I have some very grave news. Today I traveled with a patrol into WindClan territory. The air was filled with the scent of ShadowClan. Almost every tree had been sprayed by ShadowClan warriors. And we met no WindClan cats even though we journeyed deep into their heartland.”
    Her words were met with silence. Firepaw saw confusion in the faces of the Clan cats.
    â€œDo you mean ShadowClan has chased them out?” called Smallear hesitantly.
    â€œWe can’t be sure,” Bluestar meowed. “Certainly the scent of ShadowClan was everywhere. We found blood, too, and fur. There must have been a battle, though we found no bodies from either Clan.”
    A shocked yowl rose from the crowd in a single voice. Firepaw felt the cats around him stiffen with shock and fury.Never before had one Clan driven another from its hunting grounds.
    â€œHow can WindClan have been driven