Prologue

"Is you clan very big?" Rusty meowed, his eyes wide.

"Big enough," replied Bluestar. "Our territory can support us, but there is no prey left over."

"are you all warriors, then?" Rusty meowed. Bluestar's guarded answers were just making him more and more curious.

Lionheart answered him. "Some are warriors. Some are too young or too old busy caring for kits to hunt."

"And you all live and share prey together?" Rusty murmured in awe, thinking a little guilty of his own easy, selfish life.

Bluestar looked again at Lionheart. The golden tabby stared back at her steadily. At last she returned her gaze to Rusty and meowed, "Perhaps you should find out these things for yourself. Would you like to join Thunderclan?"

Rusty was so surprised, he couldn't speak.

Bluestar went on: "If you did, you would train with Graypaw to become a warriors."

"But kittypets can't be warriors!" Graypaw blurted out "They don't have warrior blood!"

A sad look clouded Bluestar's eyes. "Warrior blood," she echoed with a sigh. "Too much of that has been spilled lately."

Bluestar fell silent and Lionheart meowed, "Bluestar is only offering you training, young kit. There is no guarantee you would become a full warrior. It might prove too difficult for you. After all, you are used to a comfortable life."

Rusty was stung by Lionheart's words. He swung his head around to face the golden tabby. "Why offer me the chance then?"

But it was Bluestar who answered. "You are right to question out motives, young one. The fact is, Thunderclan needs more warriors."

"Understand that Bluestar does not make this offer lightly," warned Lionheart. "If you wish to train with us, we will have to take you into our clan. You must either live with us and respect our ways, or return to you Twolegplace and never come back. You cannot live with a paw in each world."

A cool breeze stirred the undergrowth, ruffling Rusty's fur. he shivered, not with the cold, but with excitement at the incredible possibilities opening up in front of him. But also, thought of the life he was leaving behind. He looked back at his Twolegplace, remembering the warm milk, the cozy nests, the nice Twolegs who gave him shelter. is freedom worth giving up all of that? He thought.

"Are you wondering if it's worth giving up your comfortable kittypet life?" asked Bluestar gently. "Do you realize the price you will pay for warmth and food?"

Rusty looked at her, puzzled. Surely his encounter with these cats had proved to him just how easy and luxurious his life was.

"I can tell you that you are still a tom," Bluestar added, "despite the Twoleg stench that clings to your fur."

"What do you mean -still a tom?" Rusty asked, shocked at such a comment.

"You haven't been taken by Twolegs to see the Cutter," meowed Bluestar gravely, "You would be very different then. Not quite so keen to fight a clan cat, I suspect!"

Rusty was confused. he suddenly thought of Henry, who had become fat and lazy since his visit to the vet. Was that what Bluestar meant by the Cutter? But he also had fresh in his mind what Henry was always like. He was always sort of lazy, Rusty thought calmly. That would never happen to me, would it?

"This Clan may not be able to offer you such easy food or warmth," continued Bluestar. "In the season of leaf-bare, nights in the forest can be cruel. The clan will demand great loyalty and hard work. You will be expected to protect the clan with your life if necessary. And there are many mouths to feed. But the rewards are great. You will remain a tom. 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."

Rusty's head reeled. 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?

Then he pictured himself, in the woods, without proper knowledge to survive. He pictured himself scarred on a big rock, in front of four cats smirking at his wounded body. Rusty jolted back to reality. I don't know if I can take care of myself, much less an entire clan! He dreaded.

Lionheart interrupted his thoughts. "Come, Bluestar, let's not waste anymore time here. We must be ready to join the other patrol at moonhigh. Tigerclaw will wonder what has become of us." He stood up and flicked his tail expectantly.

"Wait," Rusty meowed, "Can I think about your offer?"

Bluestar murmured a low signal, and in a single movement, the three cats turned and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Rusty blinked. He stared - excited, uncertain-up past the ferns that encircled him, through the canopy of leaves, to the stars that glittered in the clear sky. The scent of the clan cats still hung heavy in the evening air. And as Rusty turned and headed for home, he felt a strange sensation inside him, tugging him back into the depths of the forest. His fur prickled deliciously in the light wind, and the rustling leaves seemed to whisper his name into the shadows. But he couldn't break away from this feeling of death and starvation in the forest. He imagined all the hungry kits who couldn't hunt in the winter. He imagined the injuries that couldn't be cured because there would be no Twoleg medicine. He bounded over the fence, thinking about what he would leave behind. I'm happy here! Rusty thought firmly. I have a family that loves me, food and comfort, why would I give that up?