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Tallstar was vaguely aware of the stabbing pain of hunger in his stomach.
He’d become not much more than fur over bones in the past two moons since their exile from Clan territory, giving most of his prey to other members of the Clan. Barkface had been on his tail about it, but- oh well. The Clan needed to eat. Tallstar had a few lives to spare. He could do with a little less food for a while. He shuddered as the seemingly endless cold wind in the Thunderpath tunnel stirred his fur.
Seated on a small ledge next to the cold trickle of water in their tunnel, the WindClan leader watched as a small patrol of the healthiest warriors exited the tunnel. He assumed his deputy, Deadfoot, had put them up to finding more food for the Clan. Tallstar spared a glance at one of the higher ledges, where a nursing queen – Morningflower – was muttering soothingly to her yowling kits. They were hungry. They all were. Tallstar made a mental note to save a piece of prey for Morningflower.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed while he sat there on his ledge, watching over his Clan mingle and huddle together for a sliver of warmth. All he was aware of was that insistent ache of hunger. But he couldn’t let his Clan see him be weak. He struggled to keep them together as it was, if they saw their leader crumble, they’d lose the little bit of hope they still had.
It felt like an impossible task sometimes.
The patrol of warriors returned, intermingling with the rest of the Clan. They didn’t carry much prey. One of them came up to Tallstar, dropping a piece of slick meat in front of him. It smelled Twoleg-touched. Tallstar brought it to Morningflower, ignoring Barkface’s frown.
A monster rumbled past overhead, making the tunnel shake. None of the Clan flinches, every cat much too used to the deafening growl of the passing monsters after over a moon in this StarClan-forsaken place.
The noise died away.
All of a sudden, Ashfoot gave a warning yowl. Every last one of Tallstar’s warriors got up, hissing at something at the tunnel entrance, their backs arched and tails fluffed up. It startled him out of his thoughts. ShadowClan? He looked up at the entrance.
Jake?
No. He shook his head to clear it. This cat looked exactly like him, but he wasn’t. His eyes lacked that adventurous shine Jake’s eyes had always had. He held himself like a Clan warrior. And he didn’t have the fullness in his flank even Jake had never been able to get rid of, not even on their journey together. Only now, Tallstar noticed the grey tom the ginger was pressing himself against. He stood up warily, waving through his ranks of warriors to go up to the two toms. He stopped for a moment to smell the air before realising he was upwind of the strangers. He continued then, circling the two, closely scenting their fur. ThunderClan cats. The WindClan leader felt his mind flood with hostility. Just more cats who let my Clan be driven out by that gang of rogues who call themselves ShadowClan.
He returned to his cats, quietly muttering, “ThunderClan.” His warriors allowed their fur to flatten, but to their credit, stayed in a defensive line around the rest of the Clan. Tallstar turned back to the two visitors and sat down, curling his long tail around his paws, the tip flicking. “I was expecting ShadowClan,” he growled. “Why are you here?”
The grey tom and the ginger one exchanged a look. The latter spoke up first. “We came to find you.” His voice cracked. “Bluestar and the other Clan leaders want you to return to your home.”
Tallstar masked a spark of surprise. “That land is not safe for my Clan anymore.” The image of Brokenstar, viciously fighting, hunting him and his Clan, flashed before his eyes.
The ginger tom continued. Tallstar just couldn’t shake his resemblance to Jake. “ShadowClan has driven out Brokenstar. He is no longer a threat.” The statement took WindClan’s leader by surprise. A flicker of hope rose up within his chest. He wasn’t the only one, behind him, murmurs of surprise sounded from the exiled Clan.
“But you must return as soon as possible,” the ginger urged. That’s something Jake would agree with, Tallstar thought. But his thoughts were interrupted again by the ThunderClan warrior. “ShadowClan and RiverClan are starting to hunt on the moor. We saw a RiverClan patrol hunting near the old badger set while we were on our way here.”
Tallstar’s fur bristled at the thought of two rival Clans hunting on WindClan’s territory, the land that had been inhabited by the fastest Clan in the territories for generations, since the dawn of the forest Clans. Some stories listed WindClan as the very first Clan that was formed. The tales of old even stated Windstar to be the first ever leader to receive nine lives.
Before he could growl out loud, the grey tom spoke up for the first time. “But they’re poor rabbit hunters. I’m pretty sure they went home with empty bellies.” Tallstar felt a great satisfaction at that. No other Clan could rival their speed, and his warriors seemed to agree.
Then the ginger cat addressed him directly. “May we travel with you?” He asked respectfully. Of course, the WindClan leader wasn’t stupid. In his moons of leadership, he’d learned to recognise diplomatic tactics. Therefore, he knew the question was a tactful offer of help. He felt a hint of respect towards the tom – who just so happened to look so, so much like the love of his life – for respecting his situation and his position. “Yes,” Tallstar mewed. “Thank you.”
Jake’s lookalike dipped his head. “This is Graystripe.” He flicked his tail towards the grey tom he’d travelled with. “And I am Fireheart. We’re ThunderClan warriors.” Sunlight flooded the tunnel through the entrance gap, lighting up Fireheart’s fur. “The name suits you, Fireheart,” Tallstar meowed, the name feeling natural on his tongue.
The two ThunderClan cats flinched as another monster rumbled overhead. Tallstar watched them in slight amusement as he flicked his tail, a signal for his warriors to stand down. “We shall leave at once.”