“That’s not the point!” Acorntail hissed. What kind of deputy lets the first rival patrol he meets get away with trespassing and theft? “These cats have stolen our prey! They must be taught a lesson! WindClan, attack!”
He sprang at the big ThunderClan warrior, claws unsheathed. To his surprise, the warrior didn’t try to jump away or fight back. Instead, he stared past Acorntail with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Acorntail thudded to the ground and looked over his shoulder.
Morningcloud and Quickpaw were standing close together, watching him.
“Attack!” yowled Acorntail.
“Don’t be such a mouse-brain,” Morningcloud retorted. “I’m not putting my apprentice in danger for the sake of crow-food. If they want to eat rotten prey that will give them bellyache, that’s up to them.”
“But they trespassed!” Acorntail protested, starting to feel like the day couldn’t get any worse.
“Actually we didn’t,” the other ThunderClan warrior put in helpfully. “The rabbit was on our side of the border.”
Acorntail looked questioningly at Morningcloud. She nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Acorntail demanded.
“We were going to,” Morningcloud replied. “You didn’t give us a chance.”
“And now I think you’ll find you’re trespassing on our territory,” the first ThunderClan warrior pointed out.
Acorntail walked stiffly back across the border. “Morningcloud, Quickpaw, we’re going back to the camp,” he announced. “Featherstar needs to be told that a rabbit has died on ThunderClan’s territory.”
Morningcloud looked faintly surprised, but to his relief, she didn’t argue.
“Which means it belonged to us anyway!” called the ThunderClan warrior as they headed back up the hill. “You should pick your battles more carefully.”
I don’t know enough to be a deputy, Acorntail thought miserably. I’m going to tell Featherstar I can’t do this.
“You’ve made a mistake. You’ll have to choose another cat to be deputy.”
Featherstar regarded him from her nest, her blue eyes glowing in the half-light behind the gorse bushes. “When you became an apprentice, did you know all the fighting moves and how to hunt prey?”
“Of course not,” Acorntail replied, puzzled.
“And when you became a warrior, did you know how to lead patrols, how to find the best places to hunt, and where our rivals were most likely to try to cross our border?”
Acorntail shook his head.
“Then why do you expect to know everything about being a deputy on your very first day? Every cat knows you have things to learn, but once you have, you’ll be as good as Pebblefur.”
Never.
“Think back to when you were an apprentice,” Featherstar went on. “Remember what it was like to learn new things every day, knowing they would all lead to making you a warrior of WindClan?”
“But that was different,” Acorntail argued. “I didn’t have responsibility for the whole Clan then.”
“And you don’t now,” Featherstar pointed out. “I’m still the leader.” She put her head to one side. “Why do you feel that you’re not worthy of giving orders to your Clanmates, Acorntail?”
“Because I don’t know how to! Look at what happened today: Morningcloud would never have given the order to attack. She’d have found out all the information first, and then made sure that her apprentice wasn’t in danger if a fight started. She’d make a much better deputy than me.”
“But I chose you,” Featherstar meowed. She was silent for a while, and Acorntail tried not to fidget. Then she lifted her head and looked straight at him. “I’m sorry. I should have given you an apprentice first. You would have gotten used to giving orders, and you would understand how protective mentors feel about sending young cats into battle.”
She sounded so flat and defeated that Acorntail felt a rush of concern for her. She had lost her last deputy, now making her life even more difficult.
“It’s not too late,” he meowed firmly. “Give me an apprentice now, and I can learn. Cherryfeather’s kits are nearly six moons old; let me have Pricklekit.”
Featherstar held his gaze. “If I do that, will you stay as my deputy?”
Acorntail nodded. “I’ll be the best deputy I can be. Pebblefur would have wanted me to do that.”
“And you’ll be as good a mentor to your apprentice as he was to you,” Featherstar assured him. She went on, “I think I’ll suggest an addition to the warrior code at the next Gathering, that a warrior cannot be made deputy unless he has had an apprentice.”
Acorntail winced, and she added quickly, “Not because I regret choosing you, Acorntail, but because you’re right. Training an apprentice teaches a cat how to give orders, how to protect the less-experienced fighters, and establishes bonds of loyalty that can survive the worst battles.
“Now, go sort out the dawn patrols for tomorrow. And then you might like to visit the nursery to see how your future apprentice is faring!”
CODE EIGHT
THE DEPUTY WILL BECOME CLAN LEADER WHEN THE LEADER DIES OR RETIRES.
At the dawn of the Clans, new Clan leaders were chosen from the kin of the previous leader: often their kits, but sometimes their littermates or their kits’ kits. Leaders were well respected enough that their kin was respected, too, by the whole Clan, and it seemed the easiest way to choose a new head of the Clan. But not all cats follow their kin in skills and temperament, and as you will see, not every new leader was well suited or well received.
Follow My Leader
The air stilled until the trees were silent, and the only sound was the splash of water over stones. The brown tabby cat lay in the shelter of thick ferns, his breathing so shallow that his flank barely stirred.
“Robinwing?” he rasped.
“Yes, I’m here, Beechstar.” Robinwing leaned closer, refusing to flinch away from the stench of death that already clung to the old cat’s fur. “Your Clan is safe.”
The tip of Beechstar’s tail twitched. “They won’t be safe for long. RiverClan will not be content with my death. SkyClan must attack again before they do. Take the battle into their territory this time. And make sure we win.”
“Hush, Father,” urged Mothpelt. “Get some rest, and we’ll take you back to the camp tomorrow.”
“This is my final rest,” Beechstar whispered. “My ninth life is slipping away; my warrior ancestors are already waiting for me.” His milky blue gaze focused on a point past them; Robinwing instinctively turned to look, but there was nothing except trees and bracken. “I come, my friends. Wait just one moment longer.” With an effort, Beechstar dragged his gaze back to the black-and-brown cat beside him. “Lead our Clan well, Mothpelt. Make me proud as I watch you from StarClan.”
“Father, no!” Mothpelt yowled, but the leader’s eyes were closing now and his legs relaxed as he surrendered his final life.
Robinwing exchanged an agonized glance with a third cat watching the tragic scene: Maplewhisker, SkyClan’s deputy. He knew she shared his concerns about Mothpelt as a leader. They had shared the nursery with him, trained side by side to become warriors, and seen him struggle to mentor a succession of apprentices.
Maplewhisker fell in beside Robinwing as they walked back to the camp to fetch the elders who would bury Beechstar. “No cat can doubt his loyalty to SkyClan and to the memory of his father,” she pointed out, even though Robinwing hadn’t said a word. “And he fought as bravely as any of us yesterday, especially after his father fell.”
Robinwing didn’t reply. He wanted to give Mothpelt a chance to show he could lead SkyClan—for the sake of his Clanmates. They were still at war with RiverClan over the territory on the SkyClan side of the river, and he needed to be at least as strong and wise as his father.
“He will need our support,” Maplewhisker went on.
Robinwing glanced sideways at her. “Even if we don’t agree with him?”
Maplewhi
sker flicked her ears. “He is our leader now. StarClan will guide his paws.”
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather to hear me!”
It was raining hard, and Mothpelt had to raise his voice to be heard above the thundering of water through the trees. His father had been buried the day before, and he would be going to the Moonstone to receive his nine lives and his new name that night.
“Cats of SkyClan! My father’s last wish was that we take the battle to RiverClan’s side of the river and prove once and for all that SkyClan cannot be beaten!” Mothpelt declared.
There were yowls of support from the cats huddled below the branch where he balanced. Robinwing kept quiet. He was wondering what the river looked like after all the rain.
Mothpelt leaped down from the branch and ran to the entrance of the camp, his tail waving. “I will lead my warriors into battle, to honor my father who was the greatest leader SkyClan has ever known!”
And who would know better than to set out before checking the height of the river, Robinwing thought.
The warriors streamed out of the camp, apprentices racing to keep up without tripping over branches brought down by the weight of sodden leaves. Storms this late in greenleaf were dangerous because water wasn’t the only thing to fall from the sky. Robinwing dropped back to give his own apprentice a shove over a slippery tree trunk. Rubblepaw’s fur was slicked to his sides, black with rain and streaked with mud and scraps of moss.
Rubblepaw looked up at Robinwing and blinked raindrops from his eyes. “I feel like I’m going to drown before I get to the river!” he spluttered.
And I’m afraid you’ll drown when you get there. “You’re doing great. Just follow the warriors,” Robinwing told him. Picking up his pace, he squeezed past the other cats until he was at the front, next to Maplewhisker.
“What do you think the river’s like today?” he asked as quietly as he could between panting for breath.
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “We’ll see when we get there.”
Suddenly they burst out of the trees and their paws crunched on pebbles that sloped steeply down to the edge of the water. Robinwing stopped and stared in horror. The river was swollen to twice its size; the shore was no more than a narrow strip of pebbles, barely a fox-length wide, and the crossing stones were marked only by flashes of white water where the waves broke over the top.
“SkyClan, attack!” yowled Mothpelt, rushing toward the river.
Robinwing glanced at Maplewhisker, who looked as horrified as he felt. RiverClan wouldn’t need to fight them; they could just sit on the far bank and watch the floodwater carry the SkyClan cats away. Beechstar would not have wanted his Clan to die like this!
“Mothpelt, stop!” Robinwing screeched. He flung himself across the stones and brought his Clan leader crashing down, careful to keep his claws sheathed.
“What in the name of StarClan …?” spat Mothpelt. “Robinwing, let me go! Since when were you such a coward?”
Robinwing let his leader stand up, but positioned himself between Mothpelt and the river. Behind the leader, the SkyClan cats lined up, their expressions ranging from angry to bewildered to relieved. “I won’t let you cross the river,” Robinwing meowed. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Get out of my way,” Mothpelt growled. “Or have you turned traitor and joined RiverClan?”
“I am as loyal to SkyClan as I ever was,” Robinwing replied, keeping his voice even. “Too loyal to watch my Clanmates drown before they have a chance to fight. We can fight this battle another day.”
“No! This battle will be fought now, before the memory of my father fades in our hearts. His death must be avenged!”
“Not if it means other SkyClan cats die!” Robinwing protested, but Mothpelt was already pushing past him and plunging into the water. Almost at once, a wave broke over his head and he disappeared, but then he bobbed up farther into the river, his ears twitching as he struck out for the first crossing stone. White water spat in his face but he screwed up his eyes and clung to the rock with his claws until he could drag himself onto it and stand belly-deep in churning foam.
“Come on!” he yowled. “All those SkyClan cats who wish to avenge our leader’s death, follow me!”
Robinwing watched helplessly as at least half of his fellow warriors and their apprentices ran past him and splashed into the river.
“No!” he yowled, watching as they floundered in the icy water.
Robinwing turned to face Maplewhisker, reading in her eyes that she was torn between loyalty to her leader and fear for her Clanmates in the swollen river. “It looks like Mothpelt is all right for now, as long as he stays on that rock,” Robinwing meowed. “We’ll have to get the others out before they go under.”
The cats who hadn’t rushed into the river were creeping forward, their eyes huge as they watched their Clanmates struggle. Rubblepaw came up to Robinwing. “We have to help them!” he gasped.
“Yes, we do,” Robinwing agreed. “Maplewhisker, do you agree?”
She nodded. “Warriors and apprentices of SkyClan!” she called, addressing the cats on the shore. “Our Clanmates are in danger from the flooded river. No cat must go into the water without having two other cats in a chain behind. No apprentices must go near the water. Rescue the cats closest to the shore first; don’t take unnecessary risks.” She glanced at Robinwing. “Do you think that will work?”
“Definitely.” He touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail, wanting to know how proud he was of her right now. “I’ll form a chain with Rubblepaw and Spiderpelt. You stay on the shore and watch out for cats who need help most quickly.” He watched her run along the shore, encouraging cats to join into chains. Then he flicked his tail at Spiderpelt. “Come on. You take my tail, and Rubblepaw will take yours.”
“Ready?” Robinwing called, and the other cats nodded. Taking a deep breath, he jumped over a wave and landed up to his chin in icy cold water. He flailed his legs, pulling himself toward the middle of the river. On either side of him, other warriors did the same, their necks strained to keep their muzzles above the surface. A red-brown shape bobbed on the other side of a wave. Robinwing held his breath as the wave swept over his head, then struck out toward the shape. It was Squirrelfur. His eyes were closed and he looked exhausted as he battled to stay afloat.
“Don’t struggle,” Robinwing panted before biting deep into Squirrelfur’s scruff. At once, he felt his tail being tugged, and he was pulled back toward the shore, dragging Squirrelfur with him. Maplewhisker was standing belly-deep at the edge of the river; she grabbed Squirrelfur’s scruff on the other side and nodded to Robinwing that she had a firm hold on him. Robinwing plunged back into the river.
One more warrior and two apprentices soon stood shivering on the bank, with Rubblepaw glaring sideways at them as if he held them responsible for his mentor risking his life to save them.
“You’ve done enough,” Maplewhisker urged Robinwing as he crouched on the stones, coughing up river water. He shook his head.
“I have to fetch Mothpelt,” he gulped. The leader was still clinging to the crossing stone, watching silent and wide-eyed as his Clanmates were rescued from the angry river. Robinwing knew he would be too cold and exhausted to make it back to the shore without help.
“Promise me one thing,” he meowed. Maplewhisker looked puzzled. “Promise me you’ll be the new leader of SkyClan.”
“I can’t do that!” Maplewhisker protested.
“You have to. And with the support of your Clanmates, you will,” Robinwing told her. He flicked his tail at the cats around them, staggering onto dry ground with grateful glances at their deputy for organizing the rescue patrol.
“I’ll support you,” Spiderpelt offered.
“And me,” Rubblepaw put in.
“Our Clanmates aren’t mouse-brained,” Robinwing murmured. “They respected you as their deputy, and they’ll respect you as our leader. And they’ll respect Mothpelt as a warrior.
”
Maplewhisker looked once more at her sodden Clanmates, then nodded. “And I’m not mouse-brained enough to think that my Clan doesn’t need me. If Mothpelt agrees, then I’ll lead SkyClan.”
“In that case, we’d better fetch him,” Robinwing meowed. He glanced at Spiderpelt and Rubblepaw. “Ready?”
“Lead on,” Spiderpelt meowed, and Robinwing plunged back into the waves. SkyClan would be safe under Maplestar’s leadership. And Robinwing would suggest that a new rule be introduced to the warrior code: that deputies replaced leaders when they lost their ninth life, as the cats most used to leadership and dealing with rival Clans.
Too Late for Regrets: Tallstar Explains
In StarClan there is plenty of time for fallen leaders to think over the decisions they made when they ruled their living Clanmates, and there is no escaping judgment as they watch over the consequences. Listen as Tallstar, the fallen WindClan leader, talks to Bluestar about one such decision, still hoping that it was the right one.
Bluestar? May I speak with you, my friend? My thoughts trouble me and keep me from sleeping.
You think I made a mistake, don’t you? You may shake your head, but I can tell by your eyes that you’re afraid of what I have done. Would you have let Mudclaw take over your Clan? Why? Because it was the only way to fulfill the warrior code and the expectations of all your Clanmates? But my vision, Bluestar, I cannot forget my vision. I dreamed of a hillside stained with blood, of cats wailing for their kits and of warriors who had to watch their life drain out onto the grass. I could not tell who was fighting whom, just that every cat in WindClan had suffered a loss from an unjust battle. And looking down on it all from the crest of the hill was Mudclaw—Mudstar, now, leader of WindClan—because I had let him remain as my deputy. How could I let that happen?
I know my Clanmates assumed my reasoning was muddled because my final life was slipping away. Even your Clanmates Firestar and Brambleclaw looked at me with pity as they pretended to support my change of heart. I didn’t have enough breath, enough words left to explain what I had just seen behind my closed eyes. I died knowing that my Clan might hate me for changing everything so late—and knowing that I had no choice. Onewhisker would have been as good a deputy as Mudclaw, and he will make a great leader.