Chapter Four

The water hit him like a kick to his gut, freezing, tumbling, bumping, and splashing. He was being swept away in a frenzy of rushing water, his sodden fur tugging him down, to the muddy, pebble-covered bottom.

He surfaced and all he could see was water and rock as he frantically gulped down the precious air. He thought he heard a cat yowling, but in the next instant he was underwater again, everything brown with mud or blue with water. He rammed into rocks that knocked him almost senseless and sent him spiraling away. Finally one connected with his skull and he went blessedly unconscious, the darkness flooding out the pain.

His head hurt. Actually he could have sworn it was on fire, the way it burned and ached and screamed.

He opened his eyes and his blurred vision gradually cleared. He was lying in mud, on the side of the river that had swallowed him whole. He coughed and a trickle of dirty water came out of his throat. He was cold and wet and miserable and he wanted his mom.

He shakily pulled himself to his paws and then had to sit back down. His legs quivered too much for him to stay up.

His stomach clenched with hunger, a new sensation, something he'd never felt before within the warm confines of the nursery. He missed the nursery right now, more than he'd thought possible, even if it was boring.

He sank to the ground tiredly and let out a faint mew, though he knew no one was around to hear him, most likely.

But he was wrong. On the other side of the bush was another cat, a loner, who had come to the river to drink. Starkit passed out again just as the curious she-cat came to investigate.

She had had kits several moons ago, but all of them were dead, of a fox raid. She glanced around, at first unable to distinguish the kit from the mud around him, as his fur was coated in it. Then she spied the little lump of fur and instantly her heart warmed and her eyes softened. She could tell he was still alive.

Her motherly instincts took over. She seized the kit by the scruff of his neck and carried him gently back to her den.

The next time he woke his head didn't hurt so badly. In fact he felt much better, except for the hungry ache in his gut.

"So you're awake, my little visitor! How do you feel?"

The voice was unfamiliar and his fur rose. Where was he? Who was he? He couldn't remember anything but an awful river, sucking and pulling at him, nearly killing him. And lying on the bank before collapsing… something about a nursery? He shook his head; his memory was fuzzy.

"I'm hungry… and I can't remember anything. Where am I? Who are you? What's my name?"

Now, the she-cat had figured she'd house and feed the little scrap and then return him to his parents. When he revealed that he didn't remember anything, a new idea came to her. He could be her kit, a replacement for the ones she'd lost! So she lied, the untruth slipping easily from her tongue.

"You don't remember me, honey? I'm you mother! This is our den, you know, the one beneath the maple?"

He shook his head again and frowned, "What's my name? What's yours?"

"You're Star. And I'm River. You fell into the water last night and hit your head rather hard before I fished you out… it must have made you lose your memory!"

The she-cat's voice was kind and patient. He liked her, and she was his mother. And this was his den. He still didn't remember anything, but that was okay, he was safe and warm now, his fur licked clean of mud.

River shook her head and wondered where she'd come up with that name. It had come to her lips almost automatically. But that was a puzzle for later; she had a hungry kit to feed.

River brought him a mouse and he dug in happily. He was home.

Wanderingpaw yowled in anguish as his kit splashed into the river below. He had to find him! He ran along the river bank as fast as he could, but the water had no obstacles to avoid and it ran faster than him, until finally he could no longer see his kit splashing in the water.

He gave up, out of breath and nearly exhausted. He stopped and turned back towards camp, somehow finding the strength to keep on running, this time in a different direction.

His wife froze in stunned silence when he told her. He shared her sorrow. He felt as though someone was digging into his heart with a single sharpened claw, stabbing him again and again.

"He's gone?" That was all she could say, in a faint meow.

"He's gone." And Leafstar started into motion, running to gather her clan and organize a search.

When Star woke the next morning he was hungry again, but not in the sharp, aching way he'd felt before, just a faint feeling that told him he should eat.

He was curled up against River, who'd licked him even cleaner last night before telling him it was time to sleep. She felt him stir and opened her bright green eyes. She was a dark tabby, just like him, though his eyes were a deep orange, not his green.

"Hungry?" she meowed, almost playfully.

He nodded. And to his surprise she started pushing him to his feet, "Come on, I want to continue your hunting lessons."

He started in surprise, "I know how to hunt?"

"Well, not very well. You only started learning a few days ago!" she smiled at him and he shrugged, following her out of their snug den.

The den was indeed beneath a maple, the entrance practically hidden by roots, and he could faintly hear running water, so they weren't too far from the river. River turned back to him, "We'll go to the fallen oak; there are lots of mice hanging around there."

He stayed right on her heels most of the way, which surprised her; such stamina for a kit, especially one who'd fallen in a river and nearly drowned the day before. When they came up to the clearing with the fallen oak in the center she slowed and then stopped in the bushes on the edge of the clearing.

"Now watch. Mice will feel your pawsteps' vibrations through the ground, so you have to step lightly, on your toes, to surprise them. Remember to keep your tail down, but not trailing in the leaves making noise. When you're close enough to spring bunch your haunches, and then land with your front paws on the mouse. Bite it on the neck to kill it before it makes noise and scares other prey away."

It was a lot to remember, but he thought he could do it once he'd seen her catch one. His mother glided forward silently and he saw the mouse she was going for, scuffling by some leaves not far away. She crept closer and closer and then he saw her weight shift to her back paws before she sprang, landing perfectly on the mouse. She came back with the creature dangling from her mouth.

She set it on the ground, "Eat. I want you to keep your strength up so you don't fall over in the middle of a hunt."

Obediently he lowered his head and ate, ravenous from the walk to the oak. When he was finished she pushed him forward, "Your turn. Remember to walk carefully!"

He crept up through the bush, minding his tail and paws. He spotted a mouse sitting on top of the log, a tricky jump, though he didn't know it. He came closer, walking lightly, until he was within range. Then he jumped, landing right on the soft, warm creature. One bite before it could squeak and he was returning with his prey to his mother, head high and proud. It was his first kill, and the warmth and sweetness of the blood when he'd delivered the killing blow had surprised him. He'd never tasted meat so…fresh.

River was astonished. She'd never seen a kit that young learn to hunt so easily! She felt sure he'd never had a lesson in hunting before, being so youthful, but he had mastered the technique easily, and jumped farther than she thought she could ever jump even on a good day! This kit was special. And he would make a great hunter, taking the pressure off her to be the only provider of food.

This mouse she ate, and it was a nice catch, plump and full. When she was done she decided to teach him a new type of hunting, to test him, to see if his ability was for more than just mice. "All right, now I'll teach you how to fish. I don't want you to be afraid of the river because of that one incident!"

So they headed back towards the river. On its bank she showed him how to hover over the river so that her shadow didn't fall on the water and scare the fish. Then she showed him how to see the fish, silvery like the water and sometimes hard to find. And then how to strike fast with his claws out to scoop the fish out of water and pin it to land before it could slip back into the water. It took her a few tries to successfully catch one, which she let him eat.

"It tastes funny," he mewed.

"No it tastes good," she corrected, "It's food, nourishment that a growing kit needs. I've just never fed you fish, so it's different to you. But you'll get used to it."

So he continued eating and decided that fish wasn't bad, just odd, and a bit bonier than mouse. Then she had him try fishing.

On his first try he successfully scooped one up, but then it slid into the water. On his next try he both scooped up and pinned a fat fish. River purred approvingly, "Good job!"

She ate his fish and then spoke, "Well, we're done hunting for now, but I think you're ready to learn how to swim so there's not another adventure like yesterday's."

He shivered when she explained what swimming was, "But I don't like the water! I don't want to go in it and get all wet!"

"Honey the river's calm here, it won't sweep you away! And swimming is a vital skill! What if you fall in again and still don't know how to swim and this time you hit a rock and drown? Besides, you have the tail for it." He did indeed have the right tail for swimming, a long, rudder-like limb, good for balance on land and in the water.

So against his will he entered the water with her. To his surprise, the water felt good on his paws, and natural. When she took him to the deep part in the middle he swam easily and took to it like a fish! She was surprised in one way, but in another way, she was not. This kit was good at everything!

"This is fun!" he mewed, letting the river take him downstream and then fighting it to return to River.

They climbed out of the water and River could tell that despite his excitement, Star was tired. "It's time for home, and a nap."

She pushed him ahead of her, despite his protesting that he wasn't tired at all and that he wanted to hunt some more. When they got home his fur had drip-dried back to its usual kit fuzz and in minutes he was snoring, curled up beside her in her nest made of leaves and shredded moss. She lowered her head to the floor and smiled; it was good to be a mother again.