Chapter one.
It was very dark Rusty could
sense something was near.
The young tomcat's eyes opened wide
as he scanned the dense undergrowth.
This place was unfamiliar but
the strange sense drew him
onward deeper into the shadows.
His stomach growled,
reminding him of his hunger.
He opened his jaw slightly
to let the warm smells of
the forest reach the scent
glands on the roof of his mouth.
Musty odors of leaf mold mingled with the
tempting aroma of a small, furry creature.
Suddenly, a flash of gray raced past him,
Rusty stopped still, listening.
It was hiding in the leaves less
than two tail lengths away.
Rusty knew it was a mouse.
He could feel the rapid pulsing of
a tiny heart deep within his ear fur.
He swallowed,
stifling his rumbling stomach.
Soon, his hunger would be satisfied.
Slowly, he lowered his body into position,
crouching for the attack.
He was downwind of the mouse.
He knew it was not aware of him.
With one final check on his praised
position, Rusty pushed back
hard on his haunches and sprang, kicking
up leaves on the forest floor as he rose.
The mouse dived for cover,
heading toward a hole in the ground, but
Rusty was already on top of it.
He scooped it into the air, hooking
the helpless creature with his thorn-sharp
claws, flinging it up in a high
arc over the leaf covered ground.
The mouse landed dazed, but alive.
It tried to run, but
Rusty snatched it up again.
He tossed the mouse once more,
this time a little farther away.
The mouse managed to scramble a few
paces before Rusty caught up with it.
Suddenly, a noise roared nearby.
Rusty looked around.
And as he did, so the mouse was
able to pull away from his claws.
When Rusty turned back,
he saw it dart into the darkness
among the tangled roots of a tree.
Angry, Rusty gave up the hunt.
He spun around, his green eyes glaring,
intent on searching out the noise
that had cost him his kill.
The sound rattled on,
becoming more familiar.
Rusty blinked open his eyes.
The forest had disappeared.
He was inside a hot and
airless kitchen, curled in his bed.
Moonlight filtered through the window,
casting shadows on the smooth hard floor.
The noise had been the rattle
of hard dried pellets of food
as they were tipped into his dish.
Rusty had been dreaming.
Lifting his head,
he rested his chin on the side of his bed.
His collar rubbed
uncomfortably around his neck.
In his dream,
he had felt fresh air ruffling the soft
fur where the collar usually pinched.
Rusty rolled onto his back,
savoring the dream for a few more moments.
He could still smell mouse.
It was the third time since full
moon that he'd had the dream, and
every time,
the mouse had escaped his grasp.
He licked his lips.
From his bed,
he could smell the bland odor of his food.
His owners always refilled his
dish before they went to bed.
The dusty smell chased away
the warm sense of his dream.
But the hunger rumbled on in his stomach,
so Rusty stretched the sleep
out of his limbs and padded across
the kitchen floor to his dinner.
The food felt dry and
tasteless on his tongue.
Rusty reluctantly swallowed
one more mouthful.
Then, he turned away
from the food dish and
pushed his way out through the cat flap,
hoping that the smell of the garden would
bring back the feelings from his dream.
Outside, the moon was bright.
It was raining lightly.
Rusty stalked down the tidy garden,
following the starlit gravel path,
feeling the stones cold and
sharp beneath his paws.
He made his dirt beneath a large
bush with glossy green leaves and
heavy purple flowers.
Their sickly sweet scent cloyed
the damp air around him, and
he curled his lip to drive
the smell out of his nostrils.
Afterward, Rusty settled down on top of
one of the posts in the fence that marked
the limits of his garden.
It was a favorite spot of his as he could
see right into the neighboring gardens
as well as into the dense green forest
on the other side of the garden fence.
The rain had stopped.
Behind him, the close cropped
lawn was bathed in moonlight, but
beyond his fence,
the woods were full of shadows.
Rusty stretched his head forward
to take a sniff of the damp air.
His skin was warm and
dry under his thick coat, but
he could feel the weight of the raindrops
that sparkled on his ginger fur.
He heard his owners giving him
one last call from the back door.
If he went to them now, they would greet
him with gentle words and caresses and
welcome him onto their bed
where he would curl, purring,
warm in the crook of a bent knee.
But this time,
Rusty ignored his owners' voices and
turned his gaze back to the forest.
The crisp smell of the woods had
grown fresher after the rain.
Suddenly, the fur on his spine prickled.
Was something moving out there?
Was something watching him?
Rusty stared ahead, but
it was impossible to see or
smell anything in the dark,
tree-scented air.
He lifted his chin boldly, stood up and
stretched, one paw gripping each corner of
the fence post as he straightened
his legs and arched his back.
He closed his eyes and breathed in
the smell of the woods once more.
It seemed to promise him something,
tempting him onward into
the whispering shadows.
Tensing his muscles,
he crouched for a moment.
Then, he leaped rightly
down into the rough
grass on the other side
of the garden fence.
As he landed, the bell on his collar
rang out through the still night air.
Where are you off to, Rusty?
Meowed a familiar voice behind him.
Rusty looked up.
A young black and white cat was
balancing ungracefully on the fence.
Hello, Smudge, Rusty replied.
You're not going to go into the woods,
are you?
Smudge's amber eyes were huge.
Just for a look, Rusty promised,
shifting uncomfortably.
You wouldn't get me in there,
it's dangerous.
Smudge wrinkled his black
nose with distaste.
Henry said he went into the woods once.
The cat lifted his head and gestured with
his nose over the rows of fences toward
the garden where Henry lived.
That fat old tabby never went
into the woods, Rusty scoffed.
He's hardly been beyond his own
garden since his trip to the vet.
All he wants to do is eat and sleep.
No, really, he caught a robin there,
Smudge insisted.
Well, if he did,
then it was before the vet.
Now he complains about birds
because they disturb his dozing.
Well, anyway, Smudge went on,
ignoring the scorn in Rusty's mew.
Henry told me there are all sorts
of dangerous animals out there.
Huge wild cats who eat live rabbits for
breakfast and
sharpen their claws on old bones.
I'm only going for
a look around, Rusty meowed.
I won't stay long.
Well?
Don't say I didn't warn you,
purred Smudge.
The black and white cat turned and
plunged off the fence back
down into his own garden.
Rusty sat down in the coarse
grass beyond the garden fence.
He gave his shoulder a nervous lick and
wondered how much of
Smudge's gossip was true.
Suddenly, the movement of
a tiny creature caught his eye.
He watched it scuttle under some brambles.
Instinct made him drop into a low crouch.
With one slow paw after another, he drew
his body forward through the undergrowth,
ears pricked, nostrils flared, eyes
unblinking, he moved toward the animal.
He could see it clearly now sitting
up among the barbed branches,
nibbling on a large seed
held between its paws.
It was a mouse.
Rusty rocked his haunches from
side to side preparing to leap.
He held his breath in
case his bell rang again.
Excitement coursed through him,
making his heart pound.
This was even better than his dreams.
Then a sudden noise of cracking twigs and
crunching leaves made him jump.
His bell jangled treacherously, and
the mouse darted away into the thickest
tangle of the bramble bush.
Rusty stood very still and looked around.
He could see the white tip of a red bushy
tail trailing through a clump
of tall ferns up ahead.
He smelled a strong strange scent.
Definitely a meat eater,
but neither cat nor dog.
Distracted, Rusty forgot
about the mouse and
watched the red tail curiously,
he wanted a better look.
All of Rusty's senses strained
ahead as he prowled forward.
Then he detected another noise,
it came from behind, but
sounded muted and distant.
He swiveled his ears
backward to hear it better.
Pawsteps, he wondered?
But he kept his eyes fixed on
the strange red fur up ahead, and
continued to creep onward.
It was only when the faint rustling
behind him became a loud and
a fast approaching leaf crackle,
that Rusty realized he was in danger.
The creature hit him like an explosion and
Rusty was thrown sideways
into a clump of nettles.
Twisting and yelling,
he tried to throw off the attacker
that had fastened itself to his back.
It was gripping him with
incredibly sharp claws.
Rusty could feel spiked
teeth pricking at his neck.
He writhed and squirmed from whisker
to tail, but he couldn't free himself.
For a second he felt helpless,
then he froze.
Thinking fast,
he flipped over onto his back.
He knew instinctively how dangerous
it was to expose his soft belly, but
it was his only chance.
He was lucky, the ploy seemed to work.
He heard a hoof beneath him as the breath
was knocked out of his attacker.
Thrashing fiercely,
Rusty managed to wriggle free.
Without looking back,
he sprinted toward his home.
Behind him, a rush of pawsteps told
Rusty his attacker was giving chase.
Even though the pain from his
scratches stung beneath his fur,
Rusty decided he would rather turn and
fight then let himself be jumped on again.
He skidded to a stop,
spun around and faced his pursuer.
It was another kitten with a thick coat
of shaggy gray fur, strong legs, and
a broad face.
In a heartbeat,
Rusty smelled that it was a tom, and
sensed the power in the sturdy
shoulders underneath the soft coat.
Then the kitten crashed
into Rusty at full pelt.
Taken by surprise by Rusty's turn about,
it fell back into a dazed heap.
The impact knocked the breath
out of Rusty, and he staggered.
He quickly found his footing and
arched his back,
puffing out his orange fur,
ready to spring on to the other kitten.
But his attacker simply sat up and
began to lick a forepaw.
All signs of aggression gone.
Rusty felt strangely disappointed.
Every part of him was tense,
ready for battle.
Hi there kittypet,
meowed the gray tom, cheerily.
You put up quite a fight for a tame kitty.
Rusty remained on tip toe for a second,
wondering whether to attack anyway.
Then he remembered the strength
he had felt in this kitten's paws
when he had pinned him to the ground.
He drop onto his pads, loosened his
muscles and let his spine unbend.
And I'll fight you again if I have to,
he growled.
I'm Graypaw, by the way.
The gray kitten went on,
ignoring Rusty's threat.
I'm training to be a ThunderClan warrior.
Rusty remained silent.
He didn't understand what this
Graywhatsit was meowing about.
But he sensed the threat had passed.
He hid his confusion by leaning
down to lick his ruffled chest.
What’s a kittypet like you
doing out in the woods?
Don't you know it's dangerous?,
asked Graypaw.
If you're the most dangerous
thing the woods has to offer,
then I think I can handle it,
Rusty bluffed.
Graypaw looked up at him for a moment,
narrowing his big yellow eyes.
I'm far from the most dangerous.
If I were even half a warrior,
I'd have given an intruder like you
some real wounds to think about.
Rusty felt a thrill of fear
at these ominous words.
What did this cat mean by intruder?
Anyway, meowed Graypaw,
using his sharp teeth to tuck a clump
of grass from between his claws.
I didn't think it was worth hurting you.
You're obviously not from
one of the other clans.
Other clans?
Rusty echoed, confused.
Graypaw let out an impatient hiss.
He must have heard of the four
warrior clans that hunt around here.
I belong to ThunderClan.
The other clans are always trying
to steal prey from our territory,
especially ShadowClan.
They're so fierce.
They would have ripped you to shreds,
no questions asked.
Graypaw paused to spit angrily and
continued.
They come to take prey
that is rightfully ours.
It's the job of the ThunderClan warriors
to keep them out of our territory.
When I finished my training,
I'll be so dangerous.
I'll have the other clans shaking
in their flea bitten skins.
They won't dare come near us then.
Rusty narrowed his eyes.
This must be one of the wild cats
Smudge had warned him about.
Living rough in the woods,
hunting and fighting each other for
every last scrap of food.
Yet Rusty didn't feel scared.
In fact, it was hard not to
admire this confident kitten.
So you're not a warrior yet?, he asked.
Why, did you thing I was?
Graypaw purred proudly.
Then he shook his wide furry head.
I won't be a real warrior for ages.
I have to go through the training first.
Kits have to be six moons old
before they even begin training.
Tonight is my first night
out as an apprentice.
Why don't you find yourself an owner
with a nice cozy house instead?
Your life would be much easier,
Rusty meowed.
There are plenty of housefolk
who'd take in a kitten like you.
All you have to do is sit where they
can see you and look hungry for
a couple of days.
And they'd feed me pellets that look
like rabbit droppings and soft slop!
Graypaw interrupted, no way, I can't think
of anything worse than being a kitty pet.
They're nothing but Twoleg toys.
Eating stuff that doesn't look like food,
making dirt in a box of gravel.
Sticking their noses outside only when
the Twolegs allow them, that's no life.
Out here it's wild and it's free,
we come and go as we please.
He finished his speech with a proud spit,
then meowed mischievously.
Until you've tasted a fresh-killed mouse,
you haven't lived.
Have you ever tasted mouse?
No, Rusty admitted a little defensively.
Not yet.
I guess you'll never understand,
Graypaw sighed.
You weren't born wild,
it makes a big difference.
You need to be born with
warrior blood in your veins, or
the feel of the wind in your whiskers.
Kitties born into Twoleg nests
could never feel the same way.
Rusty remembered the way
he had felt in his dream.
That's not true.
He mewed indignantly.
Graypaw did not reply.
He suddenly stiffened mid-lick,
one paw still raised, and sniffed the air.
I smell cats from my Clan, he hissed.
You should go.
They won't be pleased to find
you hunting in our territory.
Rusty looked around, wondering how
Graypaw knew any cat was approaching.
He couldn't smell anything different
on the leaf-scented breeze, but
his fur stood on end at the note
of urgency in Graypaw's voice.
Quick!
Hissed Graypaw again.
Run!.
Rusty prepared to spring into the bushes,
not knowing which way was safe to jump.
He was too late.
A voice meowed behind him,
firm and menacing.
What's going on here?
Rusty turned to see a large gray
she-cat strolling majestically out from
the undergrowth.
She was magnificent.
White hair streaked her muzzle and an ugly
scar parted the fur across her shoulders.
But her smooth gray coat shone
like silver in the moonlight.
Bluestar.
Beside Rusty, Graypaw crouched down and
narrowed his eyes.
He crouched even lower when a second cat,
a handsome, golden tabby,
followed the gray cat into the clearing.
You shouldn't be so
near Twolegplace, Graypaw,
growled the golden tabby angrily,
narrowing his green eyes.
I know, Lionheart, I'm sorry.
Graypaw looked down at his paws.
Rusty copied Graypaw and
crouched low to the forest floor,
his ears twitching nervously.
These cats had an air of strength he had
never seen in any of his garden friends.
Maybe what Smudge had
warned him about was true.
Who is this?
Asked the she-cat.
Rusty flinched and
she turned her gaze on him.
Her piercing blue eyes made
him feel even more vulnerable.
He's no threat, meowed Graypaw quickly.
He's not another Clan warrior, just
a Twoleg pet from beyond our territories.
Just a Twoleg pet?
The words inflamed Rusty but
he held his tongue.
The warning look in Bluestar's stare
told him that she had observed
the anger in his eyes and he looked away.
This is Bluestar,
she's the leader of my Clan,
Graypaw hissed to Rusty under his breath.
And Lionheart, he's my mentor, which
means he's training me to be a warrior.
Thank you for the introduction,
Graypaw, meowed Lionheart coolly.
Bluestar was still staring at Rusty.
You fight well for
a Twoleg pet, she meowed.
Rusty and
Graypaw exchanged confused glances.
How could she know?
We have been watching you both,
Bluestar went on,
as if she had read their thoughts.
We wondered how you would deal
with an intruder, Graypaw.
You attacked him bravely.
Graypaw looked pleased
at Bluestar's praise.
Sit up now, both of you.
Bluestar looked at Rusty.
You, too, kittypet.
He sat up immediately and held Bluestar's
gaze evenly as she addressed him.
You reacted well to the attack, kittypet.
Graypaw is stronger than you, but
you used your wits to defend yourself.
And you turned to face
him when he chased you.
I've not seen a kittypet do that before.
Rusty managed to nod his thanks,
taken aback by such unexpected praise.
Her next words surprised him even more.
I have been wondering how you would
perform out here beyond the Twolegplace.
We patrol this border frequently.
So I have often seen you sitting on your
boundary, staring out into the forest.
And now, at last,
you have dared to place your paws here.
Bluestar stared at Rusty thoughtfully.
You do seem to have a natural
hunting ability, sharp eyes.
You would have caught that mouse
if you had not hesitated so long.
Really?
Rusty stammered.
Lionheart spoke now, his deep meow
was respectful but insistent.
Bluestar, this is a kittypet, he should
not be hunting in ThunderClan territory.
Send him home to his Twolegs.
Rusty prickled at Lionheart's
dismissive words.
Send me home?
He mewed impatiently.
Bluestar's words had
made him glow with pride.
She had noticed him.
She had been impressed by him.
But I've only come here to hunt for
a mouse or two.
I’m sure there's enough to go around.
Bluestar had turned her head to
acknowledge Lionheart's words.
Now her gaze snapped back to Rusty.
Her blue eyes were blazing with anger.
There's never enough to go around,
she spat.
If you didn't live such a soft,
overfed life, you would know that.
Rusty was confused by
Bluestar's sudden rage.
But one glance at the horrified
look on Graypaw's
face was enough to tell him
he had spoken too freely.
Lionheart stepped to his leader's side.
Both warriors loomed over him now.
Rusty looked into Bluestar's threatening
stare and his pride dissolved.
These were not cozy,
fireside cats he was dealing with.
They were mean, hungry cats,
who were probably going to
finish what Graypaw had started.
