Into the Wild: Prologue–Chapter 2

There was a stirring in the shadows, and from all around lithe dark shapes crept stealthily over the rocks.

At the center of the frenzy of fur and claws, a massive dark tabby pinned a bracken-colored tom to the ground and drew up his head triumphantly.

A warning yowl came from the shore, shrill and anxious.

The desperate scream of a ThunderClan she-cat rose above the clamor.

A wiry RiverClan tom had pinned the brown warrior flat on her belly.

As soon as they heard him, the RiverClan warriors raised their voices and joined their deputy in caterwauling their victory.

“Are you asking StarClan for answers?” meowed Spottedleaf gently, following Bluestar’s gaze and staring up at the swath of stars glittering in the dark sky.

Spottedleaf’s tail twitched and the fur along her spine bristled.

The young tomcat’s eyes opened wide as he scanned the dense undergrowth.

He swallowed, stifling his rumbling stomach.

With one final check on his prey’s position, Rusty pushed back hard on his haunches and sprang, kicking up leaves on the forest floor as he rose.

Suddenly the movement of a tiny creature caught his eye. He watched it scuttle under some brambles.

His bell jangled treacherously, and the mouse darted away into the thickest tangle of the bramble bush.

He writhed and squirmed from whisker to tail, but he couldn’t free himself.

He was lucky—the ploy seemed to work.

“If you’re the most dangerous thing the woods has to offer, then I think I can handle it,” Rusty bluffed.

Rusty felt a thrill of fear at these ominous words. What did this cat mean by “intruder”?

“Why? Did you think 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.”

“And Lionheart. He’s my mentor, which means he’s training me to be a warrior.”

Rusty managed to nod his thanks, taken aback by such unexpected praise.

“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.

Both warriors loomed over him now.

“You haven’t yet been taken by the Twolegs to see the Cutter,” meowed Bluestar gravely.

“...You will be trained in the ways of the wild. You will learn what it is to be a real cat. The strength and the fellowship of the Clan will always be with you, even when you hunt alone.”

Bluestar seemed to be offering him the life he had lived so many times, and so tantalizingly, in his dreams, but could he live like that for real?