Ravenpaw was a ThunderClan apprentice. At battle practice his paws shook and his tail puffed up. "I'm not a warrior," he whispered.
He jumped at shadows. He jumped at leaves. Once he even jumped at his own white tail-tip. "Not a warrior," he sighed.
One morning Ravenpaw kept walking, past the last trees and over a hill. Below him stood a big red barn in a golden field.
A plump black-and-white cat sat in the doorway. "I'm Barley," he said. "Are you a warrior?" Ravenpaw looked at his paws. "Not a warrior." "Good," said Barley. "I don't need one."
"The mice keep getting into my hay," said Barley. "Every night there are more. I want them out before winter, and there are too many for one old cat."
Ravenpaw did not chase. He sat very still and watched. He saw where every mouse ran. They all came in through one small hole by the floor.
Together they pushed a flat stone over the hole. The scratching stopped. Barley's whiskers went up. "Not a warrior," he said. "Something better."
Ravenpaw stayed. The hay was warm and the barn was quiet. Then one evening two cats came over the hill: Firepaw and Graypaw. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Come home," said Graypaw. Ravenpaw looked at the barn, and at Barley. "I'm not a warrior," he said. Then he purred. "I'm a barn cat."
That night, four cats shared one mouse in the warm hay, under a big round moon. And Firepaw and Graypaw promised to visit often.
