Ravenpaw's Farewell by Erin Hunter Page B

beneath the hazel bushes where the elders lived. Alderpaw wished that he could curl up in the warmth and take a nap. Instead, he combed his claws painstakingly through Graystripe’s long pelt, searching for ticks. Sparkpaw was doing the same for Purdy, while Sandstorm and Millie looked on, patiently waiting their turn.
    â€œWow, there’s a massive tick here!” Sparkpaw exclaimed. “Hold still, Purdy, and I’ll get it off.”
    With clenched teeth she picked up the twig Jayfeather had given her, a ball of moss soaked in mouse bile stuck on one end, and awkwardly maneuvered it until she could dab the moss onto Purdy’s tick.
    The old tabby shook his pelt and sighed with relief as the tick fell off. “That’s much better, young ’un,” he purred.
    â€œBut this stuff smells horrible !” Sparkpaw mumbled around the twig. “I don’t know how you elders can stand it.” Suppressing a sigh, she began parting Purdy’s matted, untidy fur in search of more ticks.
    â€œNow you listen to me, youngster,” Purdy meowed. “There’s not a cat in ThunderClan who wasn’t an apprentice once, takin’ off ticks, just like you.”
    â€œEven Bramblestar?” Alderpaw asked, pausing with one paw sunk deep in Graystripe’s pelt.
    â€œEven Firestar ,” Graystripe responded. “He and I were apprentices together, and I’ve lost count of the number of ticks we shifted. Hey!” he added, giving Alderpaw a prod. “Watch what you’re doing. Your claws are digging into my shoulder!”
    â€œSorry!” Alderpaw replied.
    In spite of being scolded, he felt quite content. Cleaning off ticks was a messy job, but there were worse things than sitting in the sun and listening to the elders. He looked up briefly to see Sandstorm’s green gaze resting lovingly on him and his sister as she settled herself more comfortably in the bracken of her nest.
    â€œI remember when your mother was first made an apprentice,” she mewed. “Dustpelt was her mentor. You won’t remember him—he died in the Great Storm—but he was one of our best warriors, and he didn’t put up with any nonsense. Even so, Squirrelflight was a match for him!”
    â€œWhat did she do?” Alderpaw asked, intrigued to think of his serious, businesslike mother as a difficult young apprentice. “Go on, tell us!”
    Sandstorm sighed. “What didn’t she do? Slipping out of camp to hunt on her own . . . getting stuck in bushes or falling into streams . . . I remember Dustpelt said to me once, ‘If that kit of yours doesn’t shape up, I’m going to claw her pelt off and hang it on a bush to frighten the foxes!’”
    Sparkpaw stared at Sandstorm with her mouth gaping. “He wouldn’t!”
    â€œNo, of course he wouldn’t,” Sandstorm responded, her green eyes alight with amusement. “But Dustpelt had to be tough with her. He saw how much she had to offer her Clan, but he knew she wouldn’t live up to her potential unless she learned discipline.”
    â€œShe sure did that,” Alderpaw meowed.
    â€œHey!” Graystripe gave Alderpaw another prod. “What about my ticks, huh?”
    â€œAnd ours,” Millie put in, with a glance at Sandstorm. “We’ve been waiting moons !”
    â€œSorry . . .”
    Alderpaw began rapidly searching through Graystripe’s fur, and almost at once came across a huge swollen tick. That must be making Graystripe really uncomfortable.
    Picking up his stick with the bile-soaked moss, he dabbed at the tick. At the same moment, he happened to glance up, and spotted Leafpool and Jayfeather talking intently to each other just outside the medicine cats’ den.
    As Alderpaw wondered vaguely what was so important, both medicine cats turned toward him. Suddenly he felt trapped by Jayfeather’s blind gaze and Leafpool’s searching