The wings of a butterfly flapped a few mouse-lengths in front of Rootpaw, and the black-and-white tom found his paws bringing him towards the direction of the butterfly. Where was it going? Was it leading Rootpaw towards something? Rootpaw wasn't going to wait to find out. As the butterfly's vivid black-and-orange wings, splotched with some dabs of white, headed further towards a rise and towards WindClan's border, Rootpaw found himself quickening his pace.

Where are you taking me? Rootpaw asked the butterfly as he leaped over some fallen rocks and climbed onto a root jutting out of a slope. The patrol he was on faded in the distance, and his only focus was following the butterfly. Still the butterfly flew, and Rootpaw could see the moor in the faint distance. I can't cross Clan borders, you know that, don't you, little butterfly? Rootpaw reached the stream that bubbled softly and carved the border with WindClan territory. The butterfly flitted over the stream, and Rootpaw was seconds away from following it when a voice called out his name.

"Rootpaw!" Vinestep! Rootpaw froze in his tracks and looked over his shoulder to see his mentor's splotched ginger-and-white pelt growing closer and closer. The tom climbed the same rise Rootpaw had to get to the stream and leaped over a fallen tree. He raced over to Rootpaw, and anger blazed in his forest-green eyes as he glanced at the stream. "What are you doing here? We're supposed to be patrolling the ShadowClan border!"

Rootpaw blinked as innocently as he could towards his mentor. "I was following a butterfly."

"A butterfly…?" Vinestep's gaze hardened. "Rootpaw, please. You were just about to cross WindClan territory for a butterfly?"

"It was beautiful," Rootpaw told his mentor. "I felt it was leading me towards something."

Vinestep took a deep breath, but the vein above his eye throbbed. He flicked his tail in irritation and met Rootpaw's gaze steadily. "Rootpaw, you've been training for a moon now. You should know by now that we don't cross other Clan territories, especially not for a butterfly! I'd say we should find the patrol, but I bet they're already at the border. By the time we arrive, they'll be heading back, and so there's no point." He let out an irritated sigh. "Come, let's find something to hunt. I haven't taught you how to hunt birds yet."

Rootpaw nodded and followed Vinestep as his mentor led him through a less gnarled path through the forest. The tom led him through a copse of beech trees, and Rootpaw recognized the Sky Oak in the center of the trees. The massive oak's branches reached all the way towards the pale blue sky, the furthest twigs seeming to touch the fluffy white clouds. Rootpaw glanced over and saw a smidge of dark blue in the distance. The lake, he thought. Envy itched at his paws. He hadn't gone to his first Gathering yet. When would he go? He wanted to meet the other Clans.

"Rootpaw!" Vinestep's voice was curt. "Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

"Huh?" Rootpaw turned his head to stare at his mentor. The disappointment palpable on his face sent a wave of shame burning through Rootpaw's thick black-and-white pelt. "Erm, no. Can you repeat that?"

Vinestep let out a sigh. "I said, to hunt birds, you have to focus on your leap. Of course, stalking and position is important, but if a bird takes off, you want to have the biggest jump you can to stop it before it flies away. Show me the hunter's crouch."

Rootpaw dropped into the hunter's crouch, his body low and his tail sticking straight. His belly brushed against the ground, and he felt the tips of the cool grass against his white fur. He made sure his weight was evenly distributed and looked up at Vinestep. Vinestep gave him a small nod of approval.

The black-and-white apprentice tasted the air. He could smell it – although he hadn't caught a bird before, he'd seen it on the fresh-kill pile, and eaten it if the opportunity presented itself. Blackbird. But where was it? Rootpaw pushed himself forward as the scent grew thicker. Vinestep leaned into Rootpaw's ear and hissed, "Make sure your leap is powerful. That's the most vital part of hunting birds."

Rootpaw dipped his head. He prowled further across the forest floor, careful not to disturb any fallen twigs or pebbles around him. He could make out the bird's sleek black feathers and spotted it nibbling on a seed on a small rock ahead. Rootpaw waved his tail and took one more step until he was sure he was close enough for a leap. He wiggled his haunches and, with a massive leap, he pushed his legs from the ground and aimed for the bird. The bird let out a loud cry of alarm and flapped its wings, trying to get away, but Rootpaw brought it down his front paws. The bird flailed in his grasp, and Rootpaw desperately tried hard to hold on, but the bird managed to wriggle itself from his grip and soar away into the pale blue sky. Rootpaw watched it go, dejected as the blackbird disappeared.

Vinestep padded over to him, sympathy in his green eyes. "Never mind that," he said. "Your leap was great, and especially bringing it down with your front paws. Sometimes prey just gets away, and it's no one fault."

Frustration bubbled inside of Rootpaw. He had the bird. If he had been a bit stronger with his front paws bringing it down, he was sure he would have something to bring back to camp. I wonder if Pearpaw would have made that catch? He pushed the thought as soon as it came. He didn't want to compare himself to his brother. Rootpaw wanted to train at his pace, not Pearpaw's. It was already bad enough that they were practicing battle moves in the training clearing nearly every day. Pearpaw seemed to understand the moves right away, while it took Rootpaw three or more tries to grasp the move automatically. He could feel the disappointment in his mentor's gaze when he watched him struggle, but Vinestep gave him good criticism, and it just took some time for Rootpaw to implement that. He shook away the thoughts of his training and sighed.

"That bird's alarm cry probably scared most of the prey in the area," Vinestep mewed. "Let's try somewhere else."

Rootpaw sighed as he followed his mentor, dragging his paws behind him. He had failed with the patrol and with the bird. He had to do something right today. He wouldn't go back to camp until he brought back a successful catch for the fresh-kill pile. Vinestep opened his mouth to taste the air, and Rootpaw followed his lead. His whiskers twitched as he recognized the scent of mouse. He glanced at Vinestep, silently asking permission to track the scent. Vinestep nodded. At his mentor's permission, Rootpaw tracked the scent and followed the trail through a narrow path between a throng of oak trees. When he spotted the gray furry body of the mouse, he dropped into the hunter's crouch. Please, StarClan, let me catch this one.

With that prayer hanging in the air, Rootpaw wiggled his haunches and leapt onto the mouse, pinning it down with his paw. The mouse's eyes flashed with fear, and Rootpaw silently apologized to it. I am sorry, but to feed my Clan, I must end your life. It was not a waste. He quickly killed the mouse with a nip to its throat and gazed up at the sky. Thank you, StarClan, for this prey. He picked up the mouse and followed Vinestep's scent. He spotted his mentor with a massive squirrel dangling from his jaws.

Vinestep dropped the squirrel and looked at the mouse Rootpaw had caught. "Good job," he meowed. "The Clan will eat well tonight."

"Thanks," Rootpaw meowed, placing the mouse in front of his slight feet. He scuffed his paws on the forest floor. "I'm sorry about the patrol. And the bird."

"The bird wasn't your fault," Vinestep said, flicking his splotched ginger tail. "But like I told you before, Rootpaw, you have to put your focus in your training. There's no excuse for crossing Clan territories. You know we're at war, and WindClan won't take kindly to any trespassers."

Rootpaw dipped his head. "I understand," he told his mentor. "It won't happen again."

"I should think not!" Vinestep curled his tail. He gave Rootpaw a brisk nod. "Let's head back to camp. You can take a short break, get yourself something to eat, and then at night we'll check the ShadowClan border again."

Without waiting to hear Rootpaw's reply, Vinestep picked up the squirrel in his jaws and hurried away. Rootpaw grabbed his mouse and followed his mentor as they pelted through the forest. He glanced over at a patch of blooming flowers near the roots of a birch tree, but he didn't dare stop. He was hot on Vinestep's trail until they reached the stone hollow. Vinestep brushed through the tunnel, the squirrel's tail dragging across the floor in his jaws, and Rootpaw followed him. He was well aware how big Vinestep's squirrel was compared to his measly mouse, and he hoped that no cat would comment on it. Vinestep pushed his way through the thorn tunnel, and Rootpaw slipped in easily after him.

The camp was at its most active during sunhigh. Brookfeather was sharing tongues with Foxstorm near the fresh-kill pile. Flintstar sat at the entrance of his den, his sharp yellow eyes focusing on his Clan. Ashenhawk was drying out a bundle of herbs outside her den. Stormpaw and Flamepaw were joining their mentors, Longbranch and Tinyfire, as the two older warriors spoke to them in hushed voices. Sootfall was issuing the remaining patrols of the day, with Coalshadow, Falconheart, and Ryeshade surrounding him. Yarrowstem, who had recently returned to warrior duties, padded over to Coalshadow and twined her tail with his.

"Rootpaw!" Coalshadow called out to the black-and-white apprentice as he dropped his mouse on the fresh-kill pile. "Great catch!" His father's eyes glowed with pride.

Vinestep touched Rootpaw's slight shoulders with his tail. "He's doing a great job in his training," he told Coalshadow.

"That's excellent news." Coalshadow padded over to Rootpaw and brushed his pelt against his. "I'm so glad that both of my sons are shaping up to be fine warriors."

"Thanks, Dad," Rootpaw meowed, looking around camp to search for a glimpse of his brother's dark gray tabby pelt. "Where's Pearpaw?"

"He's back training." Falconheart was the cat who replied. The dark golden tabby tom licked his pelt until it shone in the glowing sun. "If you ask me, that cat has the makings of a leader in him. He never stops working. It's been a long time since we had an apprentice like him."

Rootpaw flinched. It was true that Pearpaw didn't stop training. He was always out in the training clearing with Oakfire, practicing new and improved battle moves. He came back from patrol with more prey than the rest of his Clanmates, and he was always up at sunrise, ready for whatever duties his mentor had for him that day. Jealousy seethed within Rootpaw's pelt. I try just as hard as Pearpaw does, he thought miserably. Firestar says I have a destiny, but what if Firestar was wrong? What if that destiny belongs to Pearpaw instead?

Suddenly Rootpaw didn't feel so hungry. He glanced at Vinestep. "Do the elders need anything?" he asked his mentor.

"They probably could do with some food," Vinestep replied. There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I'm glad you think of other cats before yourself, Rootpaw." His mentor's praise was genuine, but Rootpaw had seen how the ginger-and-white tom tensed when Falconheart talked about Pearpaw.

The fresh-kill pile was nearly overflowing as Rootpaw nosed through it to find the best pieces of prey that would tempt the elders. He'd bring prey to the queens, after. Pearpaw might be good at fighting and hunting, but Rootpaw's first duty was to his Clanmates, always. The squirrel Vinestep brought would be tantalizing for Robinfire. He pulled the squirrel out and looked for another piece of fresh-kill for Flurrypetal. There was a fat wood pigeon at the bottom of the pile, and Rootpaw sank his jaws in it. With the wood pigeon and the squirrel hanging in his jaws, Rootpaw headed towards the elders' den, where Flurrypetal and Robinfire were curled up.

"Hello!" Rootpaw mewed through a mouthful of feathers and squirrel. The elders opened their eyes as Rootpaw approached them and dropped both pieces of fresh-kill at their paws. "I thought you two might be hungry."

"Now there's a good cat," Robinfire said, letting out a long yawn as he dragged himself to his paws. He winced with every movement, and Rootpaw frowned, knowing just how old Robinfire was. He was Flintstar's father, after all. Which means Nettlesnow's kits will be his kin. "We were starving."

"I picked out the squirrel for you." Rootpaw nudged the squirrel towards Robinfire. He turned towards Flurrypetal. "I thought you'd like the pigeon."

Flurrypetal nodded. "Thank you, young'un." She stretched her paws and arched her back. "How was training today, Rootpaw?" she asked as she began to take bites from the pigeon.

Rootpaw shifted his paws from side to side. Did he tell the elders that he nearly crossed into WindClan territory while following a monarch butterfly? Or did he tell them about his missed catch because he had let the blackbird go free rather than fighting to keep it? "I learned how to stalk birds," he said.

"Birds!" Robinfire exclaimed. "Those cursed pests… if I had a tick for how many times I missed one when it was right in my grasp, you'd be here all day with mouse-bile!"

"You've missed birds, too?" Rootpaw asked the elder.

Robinfire snorted. "I don't know a cat who hasn't!" He shot a sympathetic glance at Rootpaw. "I'm guessing you missed your bird, too. Don't worry about it. Birds have wings, cats don't. You'll catch on eventually. And anyway, birds have too many feathers." He watched as Flurrypetal picked out feathers from between her teeth.

"And squirrels are too furry," Flurrypetal retorted towards her denmate.

Rootpaw purred in amusement as he watched the elders bicker. They could fight about anything, he recalled, even when he was a kit listening to the stories they told, of the ThunderClan in the days of Bluestar, Firestar, and Bramblestar. He tucked his paws underneath his chest as they bickered between themselves.

"Can you both tell me a little more about Firestar?" Rootpaw asked them. If Firestar was right, that meant Rootpaw was his kin. Firestar had said he was destined for greatness. Was he destined to be like Firestar? Could Firestar's past be the answer to Rootpaw's future?

"Sure," Robinfire meowed, swallowing some of the squirrel. "What exactly do you want to know about him?"

"Why is he considered the most important cat in ThunderClan?" Rootpaw inquired.

"Because he saved ThunderClan from Tigerstar," Flurrypetal mewed, "twice."

"When Bluestar was leader, Tigerstar killed the Clan deputy at the time, Redtail," Robinfire explained, drawing his tail across Rootpaw's shoulders. "He thought by killing Redtail, he'd become the Clan deputy. Firestar found out about all of this – he was a kittypet who joined the Clan at the time – and he tried to expose it to Bluestar. Bluestar didn't believe Tigerstar – Tigerclaw at the time – was capable of such a thing. Tigerstar's treachery was revealed when Firestar found him about to kill Bluestar. Bluestar exiled Tigerstar, and Tigerstar became a rogue. Firestar became deputy of ThunderClan, but while Tigerstar was a rogue, he killed many ThunderClan cats."

Flurrypetal shut her eyes. "Then there was a time where Tigerstar lured an entire pack of dogs to ThunderClan's camp," she said, her voice shattering. "He wanted to destroy the entire Clan, because he wasn't able to lead them, and he was furious with Firestar for foiling his plan. Firestar figured out the plan and lured the dogs over the gorge in the old territory. Bluestar died saving him."

"So Tigerstar's plan succeeded?" Rootpaw asked. "Because Bluestar died?"

Flurrypetal and Robinfire exchanged a glance, and then Robinfire shook his head.

"It didn't, because he wanted to destroy all of ThunderClan," Robinfire said. "Firestar was able to save the Clan by diverting the dogs away. Unfortunately, it resulted in the loss of Bluestar. But the story isn't over yet. Firestar became Clan leader, and at the same time, Tigerstar united RiverClan and ShadowClan together to make one Clan called TigerClan. He tried to force Firestar and the WindClan leader at the time, Tallstar, to join TigerClan, but both of them denied. Tigerstar used a group of rogues to try to force them to join, but the leader of the rogues turned on him and killed him. Firestar led all four Clans against a joint battle to kill the rogues."

Rootpaw's ears twitched. "He wasn't trying to avenge Tigerstar's death, was he?" he asked.

"No," Flurrypetal said. "The rogues wanted to take over the forest and gave Firestar an ultimatum – he had three days to leave the forest or the rogues would take over. Firestar didn't accept that. He united the four Clans into one Clan, LionClan, and all of them drove out the rogues. They split back into four Clans after that."

"Firestar then led the Clans in the forest to the lake on the Great Journey," Robinfire went on. "He established ThunderClan in the lake, and then he had the Power of Three as his kin – Dovewing, Lionblaze, and Jayfeather. When the Dark Forest attacked in the Great Battle, Firestar gave his final life to defeat Tigerstar, for the final time. If it wasn't for Firestar, Tigerstar and the Dark Forest would have ruled the Clans. It wasn't the Three who saved the Clans, it was Firestar."

Rootpaw listened to the story with his ears pricked. So Firestar really is as great as the Clan cats say he is, he thought, if he saved the Clans from total destruction more than once. Could I ever be like him? His black-and-white pelt pricked nervously. Does Firestar expect me to be as great as he is?

But how could Rootpaw ever live up to the great destiny Firestar had said was in store for him? Here he was, listening to the stories of the past from the elders, while his brother, Pearpaw, was out learning battle moves and patrolling and earning all the glory for himself.

Am I sure that the great destiny is mine and not Pearpaw's?