Warriors AU: Sandstar's Quest

Chapter 21

"I know it seems impossible," Sky continued, "but I know too that you have the strength to do this. Have faith in yourself, Sandstar. We will meet again soon."

With great dignity she dipped her head and padded down the stony trail, away from the warriors' cave.

"Well?" Fireheart prompted softly. "Are you going to follow her and tell her you can't do it? Or just leave, and let her discover for herself that all her hopes have come to nothing?"

Sandstar shook his head helplessly. The idea of rebuilding Skyclan was so huge that he couldn't even think about it. "I'm going hunting," he announced. "I'm sorry, Fireheart. I just need to be alone for a while."

Fireheart pressed her muzzle against his; her eyes glowed with her love for him. "I understand."

Not wanting to catch up to Sky, Sandstar headed in the opposite direction, downstream toward the trees near the old boundary of Skyclan territory. His mind was whirling. He was leader of Thunderclan; that was where he belonged. Yet Sky was asking him to take responsibility for another Clan as well. Surely it couldn't be the will of Starclan for one cat to lead two Clans, especially when their territories were nearly a moon's journey apart?

He remembered how Goldenstar had made himself leader of Shadowclan and Riverclan, and tried to take over the other two Clans as well. His bloodthirsty ambitions would be remembered in the forest for many seasons.

"I won't be another Goldenstar." Sandstar spoke aloud, halting by the edge of the river. "My loyalty is to Thunderclan." But was he right? Should he be loyal to the warrior code, rather than to any individual Clan?

Trying to shrug off the questions, he pressed on down the riverbank. Even though the sun was sliding down the sky, the sand was still hot against his pads, and the scrubby bushes by the cliff face cast very little shade. He longed for the cool, damp glades of the forest, the thick canopy of leaves, and the small rustlings of prey in the undergrowth. He had stayed here long enough that his paws were hardening from the constant running on sand and stone, and he was learning how to track prey through the scanty cover that was all the gorge had to offer.

But this isn't my home, he thought. It never will be.

He clambered over the rock spur, relieved at the sight of the thicker shrubbery beyond. Slithering down the other side, he caught a glimpse of movement and spotted the tortoiseshell and white tomcat he had seen before.

"Hey!" he called out. "Wait up!"

The tortoiseshell and white tom cast a glance over his shoulder, but he didn't stop. Instead, he pushed his way deeper into the undergrowth: Sandstar lost sight of him, and didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.

He picked his way across the pebbles, heading for the nearest clump of bushes, his ears pricked and his jaws open to sense the first traces of prey. Then he paused, puzzled. There was a scent here he couldn't identify: prey, but so thickly covered by the tang of crushed leaves that he couldn't be sure what creature it came from. His fur prickled with the sensation that he was being watched.

Trying to shake off the feeling, Sandstar slid into the ground cover, brushing through slumps of fern and seeding grasses until he reached the shadow of the bushes. His conviction that he was being watched grew stronger still. Icy claws raked his spine as he pictured a cold, malevolent gaze fixed on him. Something was lurking in the thicket that didn't welcome cats.

"Who's there?" Sandstar hissed. He spun around, disturbing a thrush that shot up into the nearest tree. Disgusted, he realized that its loud alarm call would have alerted all the prey in the gorge.