“That’s every cat,” the deputy announced. “What’s all this about?”
Leafstar explained what the patrol had found as quickly as she could, trying to make the Clan see and smell the hideous pile of rubbish in the forest.
“Rats!” Cherrytail exclaimed, exchanging a horrified glance with her brother Sparrowpelt. “Don’t say we have to go through all that again!”
“No, no, we can’t!” Petalnose’s voice rose in a piteous wail, and Leafstar knew that she was remembering the death of her mate, Rainfur. “We must all stay away from them—as far away as we can.”
She sat with her head bowed; Clovertail pressed up against her side and gave her ear a comforting lick.
Stick listened to the she-cats with a puzzled look in his eyes. When Petalnose had fallen silent, he turned to Leafstar. “What’s all the fuss about?” he meowed. “It’s only a few rats.”
“Only a few rats!” Patchfoot echoed, rolling his eyes.
“We’ve had problems with rats before,” Sharpclaw told the visitor, describing how a vast family of rats had attacked the cats in the gorge until their only option had been to take the battle to them and wipe them out.
“One of our warriors died,” he finished, “and all of us were injured. We can’t let these rats get strong enough to attack us again.”
The Twolegplace cat looked thoughtful. “We’re used to hunting rats for food,” he meowed. “Maybe we can help.”
Leafstar was about to thank him and assure him that the Clan could cope, when Sharpclaw forestalled her. “That would be great. What do you think we should do?”
That’s the second time Sharpclaw has made the decision for me. Leafstar twitched her tail irritably. But maybe we should listen to what Stick has to say. “Go ahead,” she told him.
“Okay, suppose this is the rubbish heap.” Sharpclaw pulled out several clawfuls of moss and bracken from Leafstar’s nest and piled it up in the middle of the den. “The rats are in the middle, right? I suggest we take a patrol—as many cats as we can spare. Some of us should circle the pile and find the entrances where the rats go in and out. Then we block up most of them—”
“Why not all of them?” Cherrytail interrupted, lashing her tail with excitement.
“Because we don’t want the rats trapped inside there,” the brown tom explained. “We want them gone. We want them to think they have a chance to escape. So we leave a couple of entrances unblocked, and put our best fighters just outside.” With one paw he poked two holes in the heap of bracken. “One or two cats climb over the dump to frighten the rats and chase them out. Then when they run out”—Stick slid out his claws—“no more problem.”
He stared around at the SkyClan cats, his gaze focused and confident. Leafstar realized he was sure his plan would work. And it just might, she thought. It’s worth a try.
“We could try pulling the heap apart, too,” Stick went on. “That would drive the rats out.”
Patchfoot wrinkled his nose. “Yuck!” he spat. “Have you seen that dump? It’s disgusting!”
Stick shrugged. “You don’t have to do that. But it’s a way of finding food.”
“You eat rats?” Sparrowpelt asked, his eyes stretched wide with dismay. “I’d sooner starve.”
“So would I,” Cherrytail agreed. “Just thinking about it makes me sick.”
“Where I come from,” Stick mewed drily, “you’ll eat any sort of fresh-kill. I’ve often been thankful for a good plump rat.”
Leafstar looked at her Clan, feeling ashamed and a bit guilty that they were being so picky. We’ve never been really hungry, she thought. Maybe the time will come when rats won’t seem so disgusting.
“Right,” Sharpclaw meowed, rising to his paws. “Stick, will you organize some training patrols to prepare for the attack? We weren’t properly prepared last time; that’s how we lost Rainfur.”
A stab of anger pierced Leafstar like a claw. Have I said that we’ll go with Stick’s plan?
“Are you saying Firestar didn’t know what he was doing?” she challenged, rising to confront Sharpclaw. “He’s the cat who created this Clan out of nothing, or have you forgotten that?”
“That’s not the point,” Sharpclaw retorted, with a single lash of his tail. “I respect Firestar, but he didn’t have Stick’s experience with rats. And experience is what we need here. This time things will be different.”
Leafstar gazed at the ginger warrior, shocked that he seemed to be rejecting everything that Firestar had done for SkyClan. Sharpclaw’s green gaze met hers boldly. Sooner or later, I’ll have to talk to Sharpclaw about what’s appropriate for a deputy and what isn’t. But not now.
Suppressing her anger, Leafstar dipped her head. “Stick, we’d all be grateful for your help. Sharpclaw will help you organize patrols.”
“Fine.” Stick turned to go, with Sharpclaw following.
The other warriors made their way out of the den after them, until only Echosong remained. Her eyes were calm and sympathetic as she padded up to Leafstar and brushed her pelt against her leader’s.
“The Clan will face new challenges which we have to deal with on our own,” she mewed. “Firestar didn’t have time to teach us all he knew.”
Leafstar guessed that Echosong was trying to say that Sharpclaw was still a loyal Clan cat. But it troubled her that Sharpclaw seemed to have more respect for Stick than he did for Firestar.
Firestar did everything for us. None of us know anything about Stick.
Thinking back, Leafstar had always known that there was tension between Firestar and Sharpclaw, especially when she had become leader and Sharpclaw was only deputy.
“Do you think Sharpclaw blames me for taking the leadership of SkyClan?” she asked Echosong.
The young medicine cat regarded her gravely. “You didn’t take anything,” she reminded her. “StarClan sent me a sign—a vision of dappled leaves to represent your name, Leafdapple. Firestar and I knew that our warrior ancestors had chosen you.”
“But does Sharpclaw know it?” Leafstar muttered, half to herself.
“That’s not the problem now.” Echosong’s voice was firm. “Every cat has to focus on getting rid of the rats.”
Her certainty soothed Leafstar, though she still wondered if she had made the right decision. Sharpclaw didn’t give me time to think! “Maybe we should let the rats stay and use them for fresh-kill,” she suggested.
Echosong shook her head. “No, you were right with your first instinct. We should get rid of them as fast as we can.” She paused to give her white chest fur a couple of licks. “Rats are SkyClan’s oldest enemy,” she meowed. Her green gaze seemed to travel out of the den and back into the distant past when the first cats of SkyClan had made their home in the gorge. “They are not prey. They are rivals for everything that SkyClan needs to survive.”
When Leafstar climbed down from her den she spotted Mintpaw, Snookpaw, and Frecklepaw struggling to carry sticks and bramble tendrils up the gorge past the Rockpile.
“What are you doing?” she called.
Mintpaw dropped her bundle to answer. “Stick is building a waste pile in the training area. It’s going to be huge! He says it’ll help us learn how to fight the rats.”
“I’ve got to see this,” Leafstar meowed.
She padded alongside the apprentices; rounding the spur of rock that separated the camp from the training area, she stopped dead in surprise. An enormous mound of twigs, bracken, brambles, and other debris covered the middle of the open space.
How did Stick build something that big so quickly?
Most of the Clan cats were watching from the edge of the training area. Billystorm and Ebonyclaw were sitting under the overhang of the cliff, while Rockshade, Bouncefire, and Tinycloud crouched in the shadow of the mound; the young warriors were quivering with excitement, as if they could see their enemies in front of them and were ready to pounce. Shrewtooth, however, was hanging back, shifting uneasily from paw to paw. Cherrytail and Sparrow
pelt were huddled together with Patchfoot at the far side of the area; Leafstar could hear that he was telling them more about the place where they had found the rats, in all its disgusting detail.
Meanwhile, Stick and Shorty stood beside the heap, their heads close together. Sharpclaw waited a fox-length away, listening intently.
“It should still be a couple of tail-lengths higher,” Shorty decided. “And it was more … more close-packed. You could climb up it and it would take the weight of a cat.”
“It would take too long to build something like that,” Stick argued. “This will do to work out our plans. Well done,” he added to the apprentices as they staggered up and dropped their burdens at the edge of the pile. “That’s enough for now. Can you make some of this bracken into bundles about the size of rats?”
The apprentices got to work while Leafstar padded across the training area to join Sharpclaw.
Her deputy turned toward her, his eyes gleaming. “With the help of our guests, we’ll soon show the rats they’re not welcome here.”
“We’ll turn them into crow-food,” Snookpaw growled. “Stick knows just what he’s doing.”
“Right!” Mintpaw exclaimed as she clawed a bunch of bracken into a rat-shape. “Maybe if he’d been here before, my father wouldn’t have died.”
Leafstar shook her head; she didn’t believe that any cat could have changed the result of the first battle, however much they knew about rats. You can’t understand if you weren’t there, she thought.
Hearing a sigh, she glanced over her shoulder to see Petalnose standing close by, her eyes full of sorrow at the mention of her dead mate. Leafstar eased back until she stood at her side.
“Rainfur didn’t make any mistakes,” Petalnose whispered to her leader. “He died fighting for his Clan.”
“He was a fine warrior,” Leafstar agreed, touching her nose to Petalnose’s ear.
“Now they’re talking as if he was stupid,” Petalnose went on, her voice quivering with grief. “As if he went out unprepared to tackle an enemy that was too strong for him.”
“Every cat who was there knows that isn’t true,” Leafstar comforted her.
Petalnose let out another long sigh, and leaned her head briefly against Leafstar’s shoulder.
Leafstar watched Stick patting the last of the twigs and brambles into place. “That looks great,” she mewed, not wanting to seem as if she begrudged praise for the visitors’ help. “But the Clan still has mouths to feed. Some cats need to go on a hunting patrol. Sparrowpelt, will—”
“No,” Sharpclaw interrupted, “every cat has to stay here for Stick’s battle training.”
Leafstar felt her claws slide out. Who exactly is Clan leader here? “We need to restock the fresh-kill pile,” she declared firmly. “Stick can hold another training session in the morning.”
“But we don’t want to hunt,” Cherrytail objected. “We want to learn to fight rats.”
“Yes, that’s more important than our next meal,” Sparrowpelt agreed.
Leafstar raised her tail to cut short a full-scale argument, but before she could speak again Billystorm stepped forward.
“I’ll lead a patrol if you like,” he offered. “Ebonyclaw will come with me, and our apprentices. Shrewtooth, will you come as well?”
“Glad to!” the black tom gasped, looking relieved to be away from the terrifying preparations for battle.
Leafstar blinked gratefully at the kittypet. “Thanks. Go anywhere you like, but stay away from the rats.”
“We’ll hunt on the other side of the gorge,” Billystorm promised, waving his tail to gather his patrol together.
Leafstar watched him lead his cats away, then turned back to the training area, where Stick was gathering the rest of the Clan together for the training session to start.
“I want to be the first cat to attack a rat,” Mintpaw insisted, her fur bristling as she angled her ears at the rat-shaped bundle of bracken she had made. “Rainfur was my father, and this is my chance to avenge his death!”
“I want to fight, too.” Sagepaw’s disconsolate voice came from behind Leafstar; she turned her head to see the injured apprentice limping around the spur of rock with Echosong beside him. “It’s not fair!”
“And us!” All four of Fallowfern’s kits bundled up to the edge of the training area, scampering ahead of their mother. “We’ll kill lots of rats!”
“No, I told you, you’re only allowed to watch,” Fallowfern meowed.
Leafstar stifled a purr of amusement. Her earlier panic was being replaced by a warm glow of pride as she watched her Clanmates rise to the challenge of the rats.
Is this what it takes to unite us as one Clan? Did StarClan send the rats?
CHAPTER 10
Leafstar reached the top of the gorge and crept into the undergrowth, flinching as thorns scraped along her pelt. The moon had already set, but the stars shed enough light to show her, as she glanced back, the dark outlines of her Clanmates slipping onto the cliff top. The first glimmer of dawn had yet to show itself above the rocks.
Five sunrises had passed since Patchfoot’s patrol had found the mound of Twoleg waste in the forest. Every cat had practiced Stick’s battle moves until they could do them in their sleep.
And I have. Each night Leafstar’s dreams had been full of thin faces and glittering, malignant eyes, the squeaking of rats and the stench of blood. Now is the time to end it.
A cool night breeze rustled the leaves above her head as Leafstar headed toward the rat heap. Sharpclaw and Stick had pressed up beside her, the other warriors following. Every cat kept low, gliding along the ground, their paw steps making no more noise than raindrops dripping from branches after a shower.
Suddenly a sharp snapping noise broke the silence. Leafstar jumped, her heart beginning to pound.
Sharpclaw whipped around. “What was that?” he hissed.
Every cat had halted, their neck fur bristling, their gazes flicking warily to the shadows. Shrewtooth looked frozen with fright.
“Sorry.” Bouncefire’s voice came from the darkness at the back of the patrol, sounding embarrassed. “I stepped on a twig.”
“Great!” Sparrowpelt grunted. “Now the rats know we’re coming!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Stick assured him. “All the rats will do is hide deeper inside their nest. And they’ll soon find out there’s nowhere safe in there.”
As Leafstar’s heartbeat slowed, she waved her tail as a signal for the patrol to move on. She could feel the tension in the air now, like the sparks before a storm broke.
This is the first time I’ve led my Clan into battle. StarClan, please give us strength and bring all our warriors home safe.
The first faint light of dawn was filtering down into the forest. Leafstar’s nose twitched as the breeze carried a foul stench toward her. A few fox-lengths ahead, the waste pile was just visible through the trees, pale in the half-light. Even if the rats had heard the patrol approaching, there was no time to change their plans.
This is it.
Leafstar signaled with her tail for the patrol to halt and turned to face her Clanmates. Sharpclaw turned with her; his eyes blazed with a green light and his dark ginger fur bristled. Leafstar could almost taste his desire to avenge the death of Rainfur.
“You’re sure you remember the plan?” he demanded, his gaze raking over the patrol. “We block most of the holes, then frighten the rats so they try to escape through the holes we’ve left open. And then…” He bared his teeth, giving Stick a glance to make sure he had repeated the loner’s plan accurately.
Stick replied with a curt nod. “They won’t know what hit them.”
Leafstar began to feel more confident as she listened to her deputy and saw the determination in his eyes. We can win this battle!
She could see tension mounting even higher in the listening cats, in their twitching tails and flexing claws. Fear-scent came from the senior warriors, those who had battled the rats before, in spit
e of their struggles to hide it. The younger warriors picked it up, too; Shrewtooth was visibly trembling.
It’s time to get on with this, Leafstar decided. Before some cat starts to panic.
“Sparrowpelt, you led a patrol here yesterday,” she mewed softly. “Did you locate the exits from the heap?”
The young tabby tom nodded. “We didn’t want to get too close,” he explained, “in case the rats spotted us. But we think there are three gaps on the far side from where we are now, one on each side, and two in front—one up high where that piece of wood is poking out, and the other low down, underneath the Twoleg sofa.”
Peering through the trees, Leafstar could make out the two front holes Sparrowpelt had mentioned: dark cracks leading into the center of the dump. She forced herself to stay calm as she thought of rats pouring out of them.
“We’ll leave these two exits open,” she meowed, relieved that her voice stayed steady. “Patchfoot, Tinycloud, and Petalnose, you go around the back and block the exits there. Cherrytail, you deal with the one on that side”—Leafstar gestured with her tail—“and Bouncefire, you take the one over there. When the holes are blocked, stay beside them, in case any rats try to force their way out.”
She paused briefly, letting her gaze travel across the cats standing in front of her. “Sharpclaw, you’re in charge of catching the rats as they come out of the front.”
Her deputy didn’t speak, but his eyes glittered and he gave a single lash of his tail.
“Waspwhisker, Sparrowpelt, Rockshade, Stick, Coal, and Shorty, go with Sharpclaw.”
“And what about the rest of us?” Mintpaw asked, fluffing up her fur as if she wanted to make herself look twice her size. “We want to fight rats, too!”
“In a moment you’ll have all the rats you want,” Leafstar promised. “You and Cora and Shrewtooth will come with me, once the exits are blocked. We’ll prowl over the heap and chase the rats out so Sharpclaw’s patrol can deal with them.”
Mintpaw’s eyes glowed. “I’ll terrify them,” she hissed, extending her claws.
Dawn light was strengthening as Leafstar padded around to the back of the heap, following Tinycloud, Petalnose, and Patchfoot. On the way they passed Bouncefire, who was struggling to push a chunk of wood up the side of the heap, toward a gap between two shiny black pelts. Leafstar gave him a nod of approval as she crept past, silently thanking Stick for all the practice in the gorge. Her confidence grew with every paw step as she saw how focused and determined her warriors were. Pride stabbed through her as she watched her Clan working together.