Tallstar's Revenge

by Erin Hunter

  He was sitting vigil with Shrewclaw, their first night as warriors. As a fox barked far below, an owl flapped up from a distant tree. Talltail pricked his ears to see if he could hear the beat of its wings on the crystal air. A light twinkled in Twolegplace, catching Talltail’s eye. Did a kittypet live trapped inside those walls? Snug and warm, blissfully unaware of the warriors on the moor? How many lives were being lived out there, beyond his view?

  Talltail’s thoughts drifted to Sparrow and the other visitors. Had they passed that Twoleg nest? Perhaps that’s where they holed up for the winter. Maybe they were kittypets in leaf-bare, just playing at being rogues when the warm weather came. He shifted his paws, trying to ease the stiffness in his legs.

  “Too cold for you up here?” Shrewclaw whispered. “You could go hide in a tunnel. I won’t tell.”

  “Sure you wouldn’t.” Talltail twitched the tip of his tail with irritation. Was Shrewclaw going to keep on taunting him now they were warriors? He slid a look at his denmate. “Don’t you get bored of throwing the same old insults?”

  “Not at you.”

  “We’re not supposed to be talking.” Talltail watched a wisp of cloud drift over the moon. “StarClan won’t approve.”

  “They probably don’t approve anyway,” Shrewpaw hissed. “You don’t deserve your warrior name after fighting like that in the assessment.”

  “You were the first to unsheathe your claws.”

  “That was just to give it a bit of edge,” Shrewclaw snapped. “I wasn’t trying to rip your pelt off.” A growl rumbled in his throat. “You caught me by surprise. Next time, I’ll shred you.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  Heatherstar’s mew made Talltail jump. He turned and saw her purple gaze blinking from the shadowy grass. She padded onto the rock. “You do know that you shouldn’t be speaking at all, let alone threatening each other?” Her gaze flicked from Talltail to Shrewclaw.

  Talltail squirmed, feeling like a scolded kit. “Sorry, Heatherstar.”

  “Talltail started it,” Shrewclaw muttered.

  Heatherstar silenced him with a look. “I just wanted to check on my newest warriors.” Her glaze slid past Talltail to the starlit view beyond. “How’s the valley tonight?”

  “Chilly,” Shrewclaw told her.

  Talltail looked out beyond Highstones. “Endless,” he whispered, letting a note of longing creep into his voice.

  Heatherstar’s eyes glittered for a moment; then she turned away. “Stay silent,” she reminded them as she padded onto the grass. “StarClan is watching.”

  Talltail stifled a yawn. The sky beyond ThunderClan territory was beginning to lighten at last. Shrewclaw’s head was drooping beside him. Talltail flicked him with his tail.

  Shrewclaw jerked up his head. “What?”

  “It’s nearly dawn,” Talltail hissed.

  “I knew that,” Shrewclaw grunted.

  Talltail stared out from the rock, watching the valley wake. Monsters began to roar along the Thunderpath. In the Twoleg den far below, a dog barked insistently until a Twoleg barked back, and the dog fell silent. The meadows and copses stirred into life as dawn turned the moon-drenched leaves from silver to green, and finally the sun lifted its head over the forest and set Highstones alight.

  Talltail heard paw steps brushing the grass behind. He tasted the air before he turned. Reedfeather.

  “You’re still awake.” Reedfeather sounded pleased.

  Talltail stretched, arching his spine until his tail quivered. He straightened and shook the damp morning chill from his fur. Beside him, Shrewclaw yawned. “I’m glad I got my warrior name before leaf-bare,” he meowed. “I’d have frozen to death sitting out here all night.”

  “Would a little hunting warm you up?” Reedfeather offered.

  Shrewclaw blinked. “Now?”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.” Talltail padded off the rock. He needed to stretch his legs and he was as hungry as a fox.

  The heather rustled as Doespring and Aspenfall appeared.

  “They’re awake!” Aspenfall called.

  “Of course!” Shrewclaw bounded off the stone slab beside Talltail.

  “You must be frozen,” meowed Doespring. She sniffed Shrewclaw’s dew-specked pelt. “And tired.”

  “Not too tired to hunt,” Reedfeather meowed. “They’re joining our patrol. They can rest afterward.”

  Talltail tasted the air. “Where are we hunting?”

  Reedfeather nodded toward a patch of heather that caught the first rays of sunlight on the hillside below. “Prey will be waking early there.” He trotted down toward it, Aspenfall at his side. Shrewclaw ran to catch up while Doespring fell in beside Talltail.

  “Isn’t it great about Palebird’s kits!” she purred.

  “Any excuse to stay in the nursery,” Talltail grunted.

  Doespring stared at him. “Aren’t you pleased?” she meowed. “They’ll be your kin.”

  “Yeah.” Talltail kept his eyes on the patrol ahead.

  “When did you turn so selfish, Talltail?” Doespring protested. “Palebird’s lost so much. You should be pleased for her.”

  “Should I?” Talltail stopped dead and curled his claws into the grass. “I’m a warrior now; I can have my own opinion. Palebird should have stayed faithful to Sandgorse. It’s only been a few moons since the accident. Anyone would think she’s glad he’s gone so she can have Woollytail as her mate!”

  Doespring’s tail twitched. “You think too much about yourself, and not enough about your Clan, Talltail.” She narrowed her eyes. “You say you’re old enough to have your own opinion. But you’re also old enough to understand that loyalty to your Clan is more important than anything. Palebird is happy. So’s Woollytail. It’s great news that there’ll be more kits in WindClan. You’re the only one who’s not pleased.”

  Before he could argue, she broke into a run. “I’ll race you to the warren,” she called to the cats ahead as she hared past them. They charged after her.

  Shrewclaw veered toward the heather, nose twitching. “Rabbit scent!”

  Doespring swung around and gave chase with Aspenfall and Reedfeather on her tail. Talltail watched them plunge into the bushes. He didn’t want to follow. He’d rather hunt alone, with no one telling him how he should feel. He tasted the air as he headed for the moor-top. A rabbit had definitely passed this way not long ago.

  Talltail padded forward, stepping lightly over the grass. Low, grassy lumps covered the ridge ahead of him. Burrows. He dropped into a crouch and began to stalk, belly to the ground. Something twitched at the edge of his vision. He turned slowly and saw a pair of long, brown ears sticking above the grass. Rabbit.

  Talltail held his breath. The rabbit bent its head to graze. Talltail crept closer, low as a snake through the grass. He could hear the rabbit munching. In the distance the heather rustled as his Clanmates crashed through it. Can’t they hunt quietly? Eyes fixed on his quarry, Talltail leaped.

  The rabbit raced away, its fear-scent filling the air. Talltail hurtled after it. Now the creature was less than a tail-length away. Timing his strides to match the rabbit’s, Talltail pounced. “Got you!”

  His heart sank as his paws hit bare grass. “Where are you?” He whirled around, spotting a burrow that reeked of fear-scent. You can’t hide in there! Talltail plunged into the darkness. Tiny paws scrabbled a fox-length ahead of him. Reaching forward, he grabbed the rabbit’s fluffy haunches before it could disappear into the maze of tunnels. It squealed as Talltail hauled it out and nipped it quickly with a killing bite. As he sat up, the scent of blood and fresh earth filled his nose, blotting out all the other scents of the moor.

  “What in the name of StarClan are you doing?” came a disbelieving voice. Aspenfall was standing at the edge of the heather.

  Talltail nudged the rabbit with a paw. “Hunting.” He spat out a tuft of fur.

  “We don’t hunt underground anymore, remember?” Aspenfall looked round-eye
d with concern. “Heatherstar said it wasn’t safe.”

  “I was chasing it from the ridge over there,” Talltail explained, pointing with his tail. He felt hot underneath his pelt. Why was Aspenfall questioning his catch? Had he forgotten that Talltail was a warrior now, just like him?

  “Well, the tunnels are forbidden now,” Aspenfall meowed.

  Shrewclaw slid out of the heather behind the gray-and-white warrior. “Has Wormcat been digging tunnels?”

  Anger surged through Talltail. He kicked the rabbit toward his Clanmate. “No, I’ve been catching prey.”

  Aspenfall took a step forward. “Calm down, Talltail. It’s going to be hard for all of us to remember that we don’t have the tunnels to hunt in. Come on, let’s get that rabbit back to camp.”

  Talltail picked up the fresh-kill and clamped it hard between his jaws to stop himself from responding to any more of Shrewclaw’s barbed comments. I’m a warrior now, he told himself. Things have changed from when we were apprentices. The rabbit bounced heavily against his front legs, making him stumble. So many things had changed, in fact, from Palebird expecting Woollytail’s kits to the tunnels being shut down forever, that Talltail hardly recognized WindClan at all.

  CHAPTER 24

  Talltail sat stiffly in his nest. Through its thick, wool lining, he could feel the moor ring with ice; every paw step, every clattering sheep hoof shivered through the frozen earth. His breath billowed up into the clear, black sky as he peered over the frost-wilted grass that edged the moor runners’ nests. Even without the tunnels in use, the warriors still slept in two groups, preferring to keep their own nests for now. But when the next litter of kits passed their final assessment, would they share a single sleeping area?

  Talltail pricked his ears, straining to hear the noises from the nursery. Stagleap was fast asleep in the nest beside him. Cloudrunner and Appledawn snored muzzle to muzzle. But Redclaw, Larksplash, and Dawnstripe were sitting up like Talltail, listening as another moan rose from beyond the thick gorse walls of the nursery.

  Woollytail paced anxiously outside with Hickorynose next to him. Mistmouse and Plumclaw huddled at the rim of the Meeting Hollow.

  “She’ll be fine,” Plumclaw reassured Woollytail as he passed.

  Woollytail grunted, the fur rippling along his spine.

  “Hawkheart’s with her,” Mistmouse soothed. “He’s done this countless times.”

  Hopkit, his black fur sticking up in tufts, scrambled from the elders’ den, where he’d been sent with Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Meadowslip to wait out Palebird’s kitting. “Are they here yet?”

  Sorrelkit pushed past her brother. “Hawkheart’s still in there, rabbit-brain. Of course they’re not here yet.”

  Talltail jumped out of his nest. He knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep again. Palebird sounded like she was struggling, her groans growing more desperate. Talltail padded toward the elders’ den and stopped beside Hopkit. “These things take time,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself as much as the kit.

  Pigeonkit stuck his nose from the den entrance. The white patches on his pelt glowed against his dark gray fur in the moonlight. “Did Meadowslip make all that noise when she kitted us?” he mewed.

  Talltail’s ear twitched as a low, agonized wail echoed across the clearing. “I can’t remember,” he lied. Meadowslip’s kitting had been much quieter than this. Was something wrong? His paws pricked with worry.

  Meadowslip nudged Pigeonkit out of the way and padded out of the elders’ den. “She’s tougher than you think,” she murmured to Talltail, gazing toward the nursery.

  Talltail tipped back his head and looked up at Silverpelt. The ancestors wouldn’t let Palebird lose kits twice, would they?

  Lilywhisker slid out behind Meadowslip. Her amber eyes shone in the moonlight. “The first one is always the hardest. Second kits come easier.”

  Talltail stood and watched the nursery as Pigeonkit, Sorrelkit, and Hopkit weaved around him.

  “We won’t be the youngest anymore!” Hopkit mewed.

  “I can’t wait to show the new kits around camp,” Sorrelkit declared.

  “It’ll be a few days before they’re allowed out of the nursery,” Meadowslip warned her.

  Pigeonkit flicked his tail in the air. “We can teach them how to play Rabbit Run.”

  “And show them the Hunting Stones.” Hopkit limped toward the smooth rocks and scrambled onto the highest one.

  Talltail remembered one of his earliest days outside the nursery, when Sandgorse had tried to teach him to dig. The memory sent a shiver along his spine. If only he hadn’t fallen into that hole, he might have chosen to be a tunneler from the start. Everything might have been different.

  Sparrow would still have come. Talltail stiffened. He would still have persuaded Sandgorse to risk his life in the tunnels. The dark anger that lurked in the pit of his belly wormed up to his throat.

  Pigeonkit stared at him. “Why are you growling?”

  Talltail blinked. “I was just thinking about something else,” he meowed quickly, shaking out his pelt.

  Barkpaw squeezed out of the nursery and followed the rim of the Meeting Hollow toward the medicine den.

  Talltail bounded toward him. “How is she?” he demanded, slithering to a stop on the frosty grass in front of the young tom.

  “She’s tired.” Barkpaw’s eyes were dark.

  Talltail’s belly fluttered. “She will be okay, won’t she?”

  “I can’t make any promises.” Barkpaw met his gaze. “But Hawkheart knows what he’s doing. She’s in good paws.” As he hurried away toward the medicine den, Talltail glanced anxiously at the nursery.

  Ryestalk climbed out of her nest in the long grass and crunched across the clearing. “You were born on a night just like this, Talltail.” She fluffed out her pelt.

  “How do you know?” He didn’t look at her. “You were hardly more than a kit yourself.”

  “I was young, but my eyes were open, and my ears worked perfectly.” Ryestalk flicked her tail. “You were a squealer! Stagleap picked you up and put you outside the den one night, just so he could get some sleep.” Her eyes flashed as if she expected him to purr with amusement. When he didn’t, she went on. “Sandgorse heard you and took you straight back in. Poor Stagleap got an ear chewing for being so rabbit-brained.”

  The entrance to the medicine den rattled. Barkpaw scurried out with a wad of leaves in his mouth. Talltail wrinkled his nose at the sharp herb tang as the apprentice trotted past.

  “Palebird’s lucky to have two medicine cats to look after her,” Ryestalk meowed. “She’ll get through this, Talltail.”

  As Barkpaw pushed his way back into the nursery, a shrill, puny mew sounded through the gorse wall. Ryestalk’s eyes lit up. “That’s the first one!”

  Hawkheart stuck his head out. “Come in, Woollytail. Meet your first kit.”

  Woollytail stared at the medicine cat like he’d just been dropped on the Thunderpath and a monster was headed for him. Hickorynose nudged him toward the gorse den. “Go on,” he urged.

  “I won’t know what to do!” Woollytail whispered.

  “Just welcome your new kits to WindClan. You’ll be fine.” Hickorynose walked his friend closer to the entrance and watched the tunneler squeeze through the thorny entrance.

  Palebird shrieked. Talltail’s heart lurched. A tiny mewling drifted from the nursery. Then there was silence. Talltail held his breath. He heard fur swishing inside. Hawkheart was murmuring to Barkpaw. Woollytail’s strained mew was quickly hushed. The tunneler slid out of the nursery, his eyes wide and glittering. Talltail rushed toward him, shouldering past Appledawn, Ryestalk, and Hickorynose as they clustered around for news.

  “Is Palebird all right?” Talltail begged.

  “She’s great.” Woollytail met Talltail’s gaze. “Come and meet your brothers and sisters.”

  Weak with relief, Talltail followed Woollytail into the nursery. Barkpaw scooted to the edge to make room as t
hey squeezed in.

  Hawkheart lifted his head from Palebird’s nest. “She’s very tired,” he warned them.

  Just enough moonlight filtered through the gorse for Talltail to make out his mother sprawled in her nest, her pelt wet and ruffled, and her eyes glazed. Four tiny shapes squirmed at her belly. Talltail crept closer, his nose wrinkling at the pungent scent of herbs and newborn kits. Woollytail crouched at Palebird’s head and started licking her ears.

  Hawkheart stood up with a grunt and headed for the entrance. “She’ll be back on her feet in a day or two,” he pronounced. “Don’t keep her awake too long.”

  Palebird stared at him in dismay. “You can’t leave! How am I going to feed all these kits? There are so many!”

  “There are only four, and they’ll do the work,” Hawkheart told her briskly. “You just have to lie still.”

  “What if I don’t have enough milk?”

  “Of course you will.” Hawkheart slid from the den. “Come on, Barkpaw,” he meowed over his shoulder. “Palebird can manage without us now.”

  Palebird gazed up at Woollytail with anxious eyes. “Will I really be able to look after them?”

  “Of course.” Woollytail lapped her cheek fondly. “You’ll be a fine mother with these little ones, just like you were with Talltail.”

  Talltail’s heart felt as if something was squeezing. He gazed down at the kits, trying to make one out from another as they huddled together. “Have you named them?”

  “Not yet,” Woollytail told him. “Palebird’s too tired.”

  The kits had better get used to that, Talltail thought bitterly.

  The smallest kit—a black tom, his pelt still slick from his kitting—began to climb the side of the nest, hauling himself up with his tiny claws. Talltail reached in and grasped him gently by the scruff. Stay warm, little one. He swung him toward Palebird’s belly.

  “Careful!” she snapped. “You’ll hurt him!”

  Stinging as though Palebird had raked his muzzle, Talltail laid the kit beside his littermates. He backed away. “I was just helping.” Grief hollowed his belly as he slid from the den.