SUNFIRE

That gray lump of fluff and fur was curled up in a sunspot and snorting like a horse. The sun slanted in from a hole in the roof, the square cuts and rotten chunks in the wooden walls, dust motes dancing in the light. Cobwebs spanned the rafters and the odd Twoleg contraptions strewn across the room.

So many odd things that defied name or explanation; mangled trees fashioned into wood poles and fastened together. So many words that he'd never heard back in camp. Chair. Table. Window. Fence, the tilted wall of flat wooden boards outside. To them, they were just more surface to lay on, cover to hunt and hide under.

The Clan called this the old Twoleg nest. The cats from Twolegplace just called it the lodge.

Just like everywhere in Twolegplace, even out here in the fringes, it crawled with rats. Twolegs dumped their carrion in massive heaps, home to hordes, and some were so big and fearless they scampered on the stone paths in broad daylight. The elders and the medicine cats always warned him that Twolegplace rats carried sickness. He reasoned that by hunting them anyway, he was doing a service.

Someone had to eat them. If it was just him and Goosebelly, really, they were protecting the rest of LeafClan. None of them had turned out diseased yet, but it was still selfless all the same.

This nest sat right on the outer edges of LeafClan territory, almost swallowed up by the surrounding forest, abandoned since long before his old mentor Goosebelly was ever born. It had to be old, since Goosebelly was gray around the muzzle.

It was a sanctuary, of sorts. Half a dozen eyes blinked out from corners of the room, lounging on chairs and tables, sharing tongues or fresh-kill almost like a Clan. Any one of them would get the screw-eye at a Gathering, though. They had bizarre names of random syllables, total meaningless nonsense like Petey and Miss Mittens.

Sneezy, he understood. He was a sooty gray tom with a swollen nose, allergic to what must have been everything. Grass. Pollen. The air. Water. His sneezing never stopped.

He sneezed now, sitting on top of a pile of moth-eaten blankets, and Goosebelly still didn't wake. His flank rose and fell with heavy snores.

Sunfire reared up on his hind paws and pounced on him, like a fox diving into snow.

Goosebelly woke with a shrill yowl, darting away with more speed and agility than he ever would've guessed in the old, overweight warrior, sending Twoleg furniture crashing and clattering to the floor as he ripped across the wooden floorboards and around the corner into another room.

There was another, slightly more distant crash, and then silence.

Mrrows of laughter rose up from the cats gathered around in the room. Goosebelly waddled back in with his tail bushed out to twice its normal size, shaking grogginess from his face.

"Urgh... What time of day is it, Sunfire?"

"Why should you care what time of day it is?" Sunfire answered from his perch, settling down in Goosebelly's vacated sunning spot. Right of conquest, just like Stormstar would've done. "All you know is naptime. And wasting time."

"Time spent napping is not time wasted," Goosebelly countered. "Nor is having a good time. You sound like Rowanstar these days."

"But of course," Sunfire said. "He is my father, after all. And eventually I'll be the leader of LeafClan just like him."

"Then StarClan save us," Goosebelly scoffed, a twinkle in his eye. "When you become leader, won't you chase out rogues and loners and lazy codebreakers?" He gestured around to the mixed cast of outsiders with a sweep of his tail. "Or will you make them all LeafClan too? And I expect to be named deputy, of course."

"I expect you'll be in the elder's den, or dead," Sunfire said. "As for this batch of rogues, I think they'd need new names before they could fit in LeafClan."

"Oh, a wildcat's name!" Miss Mittens said excitedly, whipping her tail. She was a brown tabby with white paws, green eyes growing wide. "What would mine be?"

Sunfire tilted his head thoughtfully, sitting up to look the she-cat over. "By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name. From this moment on she will be called... Missmittenpaws."

Miss Mittens trilled with approval. "I love it! You almost make me want to really join, Sunfire!"

He pointed his tail at Sneezy and Petey now. "Runningnose, you'll be our medicine cat. Petey, your new name is Lumphead. May StarClan hear and approve of my choice."

"Oi, Lumphead?" Petey grumbled, a large gold tom with big ears. "I'd rather be Runningnose."

"You don't have a runny nose, though. Warrior names have meaning."

Goosebelly ran a paw over his ears, slicking down his fur. "Your chances of being exiled might be better than your chance of becoming LeafClan's deputy. Hawkwing gave me an earful about you just the other day."

"What did he say?" Sunfire asked.

"Don't know," Goosebelly purred. "I didn't listen."

"Well, good," Sunfire mewed. "Or else I would have had to exile you when I became leader. The leader's word is the warrior code, after all."

"You could corrupt StarClan itself with your twisting words," Goosebelly said with a mock sigh. "Before I mentored you, my reputation was spotless, and now look at me. Cast away with the rogues and loners. I'll have to give up this codebreaking life, and I will give it up, or I'm a mouse."

Goosebelly had been in disrepute long before Sunfire was even a twinkle in his father's eye.

"But where should we steal some prey tomorrow, Goosebelly?" Sunfire asked languidly.

That made him perk up, eyes glowing. "Wherever we can, my good apprentice."

"Ah, so much for becoming a true follower of the warrior code."

"I said, 'I will.' I didn't say I was starting now; I still have some good seasons left in me before I have to meet my ancestors."

A new shape appeared in the window, their long shadow stretching across the Twoleg nest floor as they slinked in. Socks, a skinny black tom with a white chest and paws, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. They greeted him with a chorus of mews and gestures of their tails.

"Finally, here's the napping dormouse," Goosebelly said. "Socks, how's your mange?"

"Good morrow, Socks," Sunfire purred warmly.

"G'morrow, Sunshine," Socks said with a twitch of his whiskers. "And how fares Old Gooseguts? Miss Mittens, lovely to see you, and Mister Petey and Mister Sneezy."

Only StarClan knew what a Missus or Mister was. Some kind of term of affection the Twolegplace cats liked to throw around. To his ears, it almost sounded noble, mysterious.

"Gather around, my good flea-bitten neighbors," Socks said, jumping from counter to chair to table. "Tomorrow morning, before sunup, there are house cats that gather in the old catmint garden. Apparently they've started hunting the baby sparrows there and making a nice little sport for themselves. Mister Nimble's been watching them."

Kittypets, huh? Sunfire stood up straight, ears pricked. Nimble was their usual scout, picking the ripest targets in Twolegplace.

"Let's drop in and pay them a surprise visit. Go with me, and stuff your belly full of sparrows and your nose full of catmint. If not, stay in your nest and starve."

"Count me in," Goosebelly purred. "What do you say, Sunfire? When was the last time you sniffed catmint, besides tearing up Murkpool's den as a kit?"

"Me, a prey-stealer? A LeafClan warrior, running around with rogues, fighting kittypets?" Sunfire said with mock indignation. "I think that might hurt my chances at becoming a deputy."

Goosebelly lashed his tail. "There's no LeafClan blood, bravery, spirit, or camaraderie in you, if you don't dare to fight kittypets."

"Then I suppose there's not. Good luck, all the same." Sunfire stood and stretched, turning to leave. "It's about time I should check back in at camp. If I go more than half a day without Mistpaw seeing my face she starts thinking she'll be in the apprentice's den until she's as old as you. Farewell, everyone. See you soon."

Goosebelly gave a piteous growl of consternation. "I didn't think I trained a mouse-heart!" he called after him weakly, but he was already leaping out the window and into the tall grass that bunched against the side of the abandoned Twoleg nest.

"Mister Sunshine, wait!"

Sunfire turned toward the shadow overhead as another cat landed beside him. Socks leaned in conspiratorially, eyes wide.

"Come with us tomorrow," the rogue urged. "I have a prank that I can't manage by myself."

Now, that really caught his attention. Sunfire pricked his ears, tail twitching with anticipation.

"Old Gooseguts, Petey, Sneezy, and Nimble will ambush those house cats. You and I will not be there. And when they have the goods, if you and I don't rob them, yank my tail off my pelt and feed it to the rats."

Sunfire had to purr at that, but still, he shook his head. "That's good, but... They'll know our scent and pelts straight away."

Socks' eyes gleamed. "That's all your foolish wild cat training, not letting you think more sneakily. We'll roll through mud and tansy. There's big patches of it near the catmint garden, and lavender too."

"But won't we be outnumbered? How can we be sure we can pull it off?"

"Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred mouse-hearts as ever turned back. For the third, if he fights longer than he sees reason, I'll bite out my own claws." Socks flicked his ears, purring softly. "The best part of this little stunt will be all the lies your noble clanmate will tell us later. How he fought thirty, at least, and all the blows and extremities he endured..."

Yes. Oh, yes, it was all coming together now. Sunfire could almost taste the catmint in the air. "Well..." Reason and conscience made him hesitate, but he couldn't fight the urge now. He gave in with a chuckle. "Okay, I'm in. I'll see you when we set out."

Socks purred, bounding "After moonhigh, tomorrow night, here at the lodge. Before sunup the next day. Farewell, Socks."

"Farewell, Mister Sunshine." Socks went clambering up the wall and back into the shade of the old Twoleg nest. Sunfire walked through the overgrown garden and through a gap in the wood fence, back into the depths of the forest.

Back to LeafClan. Back to his clanmates. Back home.

So why did it feel like he was leaving it all? Home. Family. Friends. He paused a moment, casting a glance behind him, where the ivy-strewn fence and drooping face of the Twoleg nest could barely be glimpsed between the trees.

One day, he really would have to leave it all behind. The rogues, the little games.

If he really wanted to be a warrior. If he really wanted to be a leader. If he really wanted LeafClan to talk about him with pride, to respect him. Like Lionpelt, Elderheart, and Rowanstar. Hawkwing, Beethorn, Owlswoop. Nettlefang. They all talked about Nettlefang like he was Stormstar's tenth life.

Snakes twisted in his belly, almost pushing him to bolt. But he kept an easy, ambling pace through the forest, eyes lifted toward the canopy. Blue patches of sky and wisps of white cloud could be glimpsed between the crisscross branches, flush with newleaf growth.

LeafClan's respect. Their love. He'd have to turn it all around one day to get that now. And when he turned it around, it'd be so surprising, that they'd all be happier and praise him more highly than if he'd always been the perfect cleanpaw.

Then how much better than his word he'd prove to be. He'd turn it off like a switch: no more Mister Sunshine, the no-good, moth-chasing, lazy toad-brain. Only Sunfire, the greatest warrior that LeafClan ever knew.

Yes. One day.

But not today. Or tomorrow.