by Erin Hunter
The passage led steadily downward. Before he reached the end of it, Firestar heard the sound of scuffling and surprised mews. One of the apprentices called out, “Father? Is it really you?”
A moment later Firestar could no longer feel his fur brushing the passage walls on either side. His next step brought him up against a cat’s haunches; he recognized Graystripe by his scent. The scent of the two apprentices was stronger than ever, and with a jolt of relief Firestar recognized another cat.
“Mistyfoot!” he exclaimed. “Thank StarClan we’ve found you.”
“Is that Firestar?” Mistyfoot’s voice was hoarse, close to his ear. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” Firestar replied. “I’ll tell you everything, but first we have to get out of here. Graystripe, are you ready?”
A tense mew of agreement came from his friend. Though Firestar couldn’t see him, he could picture him huddled close to Featherpaw and Stormpaw.
“Let’s go,” Firestar meowed, turning with difficulty in the narrow mouth of the underground den. “Mistyfoot, we’re going to take you all back to ThunderClan with us.” Remembering how weak Stonefur and the apprentices had looked, he added, “Can you make it that far?”
“Once I’m out of this hole I can make it anywhere,” Mistyfoot mewed determinedly.
“So can we,” added Featherpaw.
“That’s great. Mistyfoot, I’m so sorry, but we couldn’t rescue Stonefur…” Firestar began, looking for words to tell the she-cat about her brother’s death.
“I already know,” meowed Mistyfoot, her voice ragged with grief. “The apprentices told me. They say he died bravely.”
“Very bravely. All StarClan will honor him.” Firestar pushed his muzzle into Mistyfoot’s fur, a gesture of comfort. “Come on. We’ll make sure he didn’t die for nothing. Tigerstar will not hurt you as well.”
His heart thudding with fear, Firestar scrabbled his way back up the tunnel. At the top he paused to check that it was safe to emerge, then led the way into the open. He felt as if the rancid stench of the prison would cling to his fur forever. Ravenpaw took his place at the back of the group, keeping a lookout as they crept down the slope.
Silent as shadows, the cats followed the path through the reeds until they came to the clearing again. It was empty, the Bonehill casting its ominous shadow as far as the body of Stonefur lying still in the moonlight.
Mistyfoot went over to her brother and bent her head to nose his fur. Outside the darkness of her prison, Firestar saw that she was as skinny and unkempt as the dead warrior, every rib showing, her fur matted and her eyes dull with suffering.
“Stonefur, Stonefur,” she murmured. “What will I do without you?”
Firestar’s fur bristled with tension as he listened for the sound of approaching cats, but he forced himself to give Mistyfoot time to mourn. They could not take Stonefur’s body with them for the proper warrior’s vigil; this was Mistyfoot’s last farewell.
Stormpaw, who had been Stonefur’s apprentice, approached as well. He touched his nose to his mentor’s head before padding back to stand beside his father.
Firestar could not help remembering Bluestar, and how much she had loved her lost kits. Had she been here, he wondered, to lead her son to StarClan? She and Stonefur had both died bravely, their cruel deaths caused by Tigerstar’s evil ambition. Every hair on Firestar’s pelt pricked with his longing to confront the dark tabby warrior and make him pay for his crimes.
“Firestar, we have to go,” Graystripe hissed, the whites of his eyes bright in the half-light.
His words roused Mistyfoot. Before Firestar could reply, she raised her head, gave Stonefur one last, loving look, and padded over to where the others were waiting for her.
Firestar set a brisk pace back toward the river, feeling himself relax as the stench of the Bonehill and the scattered prey began to fade. Graystripe helped the two apprentices along, encouraging them with gentle nudges and mews. Mistyfoot kept up bravely, limping on paws cracked and sore after her imprisonment, while Ravenpaw stayed at the rear, his ears tilted back for the sounds of pursuit.
The night was silent except for the murmur of water, and by the time the river came in sight they had not encountered any other cats. Turning downstream toward the stepping-stones, Firestar dared to hope that they would escape undetected.
Then a distant yowling sounded through the reeds and the six cats froze in their tracks.
“The prisoners have escaped!”
CHAPTER 17
“Quick—the stepping-stones!” Firestar hissed.
Alone, the ThunderClan cats could have raced easily out of danger, but none of them would abandon the prisoners. Graystripe fell back to join Ravenpaw as rearguard, while Firestar tried to urge on the RiverClan cats.
“You’ll have to leave us!” Mistyfoot gasped. “There’s no sense in all of us being captured.”
“Never!” snarled Graystripe. “We’re all in this together.”
By now they were bounding alongside the river, the RiverClan cats stumbling in their efforts to keep up. Firestar could already see the ripples in the water where the current was broken by the stepping-stones. But the yowling behind them grew louder, and when he turned his head to draw in a rapid gulp of air he could taste the scent of ShadowClan.
“Great StarClan!” he whispered. “They’re catching up.”
None of the pursuing cats had appeared yet by the time they reached the stepping-stones. Firestar leaped onto the first stone, then the second, and gestured with his tail for Mistyfoot to follow.
“Hurry!” he urged.
Mistyfoot bent her hind legs and leaped, staggering as her paws hit the slippery surface, but managing to keep her balance. The two apprentices came next. Firestar stopped when he was halfway across and waited, the river water lapping his paws, while the other cats leaped out behind him.
Because the RiverClan cats were so weak they were agonizingly slow, bracing themselves for each leap. Mistyfoot reached him first, and Firestar edged to the side of the stone to let her go past. The two apprentices were still some way behind. Firestar’s claws scraped the rough stone in his impatience, though he tried to stay calm. When the first dark shapes of pursuing cats slipped out of the reeds he forced himself to say nothing. Stormpaw was just nerving himself to leap; Firestar locked his gaze with the younger cat’s. “Come on,” he mewed steadily. “You’re doing fine.”
But as her brother gathered himself, Featherpaw, a couple of stones behind him, spotted the ShadowClan warriors racing along the riverbank. “They’re coming!” she yowled.
Caught off balance, Stormpaw misjudged the distance and fell short. His forepaws landed on the stone, but his hindquarters splashed into the river. The current bubbled around him, dragging at his thick fur as he scrabbled to pull himself to safety.
“I’m slipping!” He gasped. “I can’t hold on!”
Firestar jumped back onto the previous stone, barely managing to balance in the space left by Stormpaw’s clawing forepaws. He fastened his teeth in the apprentice’s scruff just as the younger cat lost his grip and slid backward into the river. For a few heartbeats Firestar felt his own paws sliding on the smooth rock under Stormpaw’s weight and the force of the current.
Then he spotted Graystripe swimming up behind his son, paws thrusting strongly through the icy water. The gray warrior shoved his shoulder underneath Stormpaw and heaved him upward. Firestar managed to haul the apprentice out to crouch shivering on the rock.
Glancing toward the RiverClan shore, Firestar saw Ravenpaw urging Featherpaw onto the next stone, getting his own paws wet to leave her space to stand on the driest part.
Behind them, the pursuing cats had reached the first stone. Blackfoot was in the lead, flanked by Jaggedtooth and three or four others—too many to fight, Firestar realized.
“Come on!” he yowled. “Hurry!” He nudged the shivering Stormpaw. “Keep going—follow Mistyfoot!”
Blac
kfoot crouched, ready to spring, his eyes fixed on the stepping-stone where Ravenpaw had put himself between Featherpaw and the ShadowClan warrior. Firestar’s belly clenched. The loner was brave, but his training days were far behind him and he would be no match for a seasoned warrior like Tigerstar’s deputy.
Graystripe began swimming back toward Ravenpaw. A wild screech split the air as the rest of the ShadowClan warriors spread along the bank in a menacing line.
“Keep going!” Firestar gasped to Mistyfoot. “Take Stormpaw with you. I’m going back.”
But before he could move, a fierce battle yowl went up from the forest on the ThunderClan side of the river. Firestar saw three shapes streaking out of the undergrowth: Cloudtail, with Sandstorm and Thornclaw just behind him.
“Thank StarClan—” he began, breaking off as Cloudtail leaped toward the river, eyes blazing and claws extended. He was heading straight for Mistyfoot, who was just jumping from the last stone onto the bank.
Firestar raced across the remaining stones to intercept the white warrior, barrelling into his side and knocking him off his paws. “Mouse-brain!” he snapped. “The enemy is back there.”
He jerked his head toward the middle of the river, where Ravenpaw and Graystripe were tussling with Blackfoot on the central stone. Stormpaw was nerving himself for the last leap onto the bank, while Featherpaw huddled two or three stones farther back. Sandstorm and Thornclaw launched themselves across the stones to face the ShadowClan warriors, the two apprentices cowering at the edge of their stones to let them pass.
Muttering “Sorry” to Mistyfoot, Cloudtail sprang after them. Firestar bunched his muscles to follow, but before he leaped he saw Blackfoot slip off the stone to be swept away in the current. He ducked briefly below the surface of the water, then reappeared swimming clumsily back toward the RiverClan side, his ears flat against his head. The three ThunderClan warriors stood crowded together on one stone, digging in their claws and growling fiercely at the remaining pursuers.
“You’ll come no farther if you want to stay alive,” snarled Sandstorm.
The ShadowClan warriors milled about uncertainly on the first two or three stones. Unused to the river, they were unsteady on their paws and clearly unwilling to join battle with the furious ThunderClan cats.
“Get back!” Blackfoot yowled as he clambered onto the bank, his fur streaming. “Let them escape; they’re only half-Clan crowfood.”
His warriors seemed happy to obey, and within moments all the ShadowClan cats had vanished into the reeds.
Firestar concentrated on helping the two apprentices finish crossing. Graystripe and Ravenpaw followed closely behind. Checking his cats for wounds, Firestar saw that Graystripe had lost a clump of fur from one shoulder, and Ravenpaw’s left ear was bleeding, but otherwise they seemed unhurt.
“Well done, all of you,” he meowed, turning to the other ThunderClan warriors. “I was never so glad to see any cats as when you three came out of the forest. What brought you her e?”
“You did,” Cloudtail panted. “You ordered extra patrols to watch the border. Lucky for you that we came along when we did.”
Firestar felt his legs go weak with relief. StarClan had sent the patrol at just the right moment. “Okay,” he meowed, “we’d better get back to camp. These three cats need to rest. Ravenpaw, you’d better come too and let Cinderpelt look at that ear.”
Firestar stayed at the rear in case the ShadowClan warriors decided to cross the river after all, but behind them every thing was quiet. After a few moments, Sandstorm dropped back to join him.
“What happened?” she asked. “What are these RiverClan cats doing here?”
Firestar paused to give her ear a quick lick. “They were prisoners,” he explained. “If we’d left them there, Tigerstar would have killed them.”
Sandstorm turned her green gaze on him, horrified. “Why?”
“Because their parents came from different Clans,” Firestar explained. “Tigerstar says half-Clan cats aren’t fit to live in any Clan.”
“But his own kits are half-Clan!” Sandstorm protested.
Firestar shook his head. “No, because Tigerstar was a ThunderClan cat when they were born. At least, that would be his excuse. You don’t think that the great Tigerstar would father anything but pure-blooded kits, do you?”
The shock and disgust in Sandstorm’s eyes deepened, then turned to sympathy as she looked at the RiverClan cats. “Poor things,” she murmured. “Will you let them stay in ThunderClan?”
Firestar nodded. “What else can we do?”
The moon was high and bathing the ravine in a silvery light by the time that Firestar and the others reached the camp. Firestar could hardly believe that everything could be so peaceful here, only a short distance from the bloodstained clearing of the Bonehill and all the violence unleashed by Tigerstar’s ambition.
But as he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the camp, the illusion of peace was shattered. Whitestorm came hurrying toward him with Brackenfur at his heels. The younger warrior looked distraught.
“Thank StarClan you’re back, Firestar!” he exclaimed. “It’s Tawnypaw—she’s disappeared!”
CHAPTER 18
“Disappeared?” Firestar echoed in alarm. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure.” Whitestorm was calmer than Brackenfur, but his eyes gave away his concern. “It was Bramblepaw who first said he couldn’t find her. I thought he was making a fuss about nothing, but we searched the camp. She isn’t here, and no cat saw her leave.”
“It’s my fault!” Brackenfur broke in. “I’m her mentor.”
“It’s not your fault,” Whitestorm assured him. “I sent you on hunting patrol. No cat expects you to be in two places at once.”
Brackenfur shook his head despairingly.
“Fetch Bramblepaw,” Firestar ordered; Thornclaw bounded off at once to the apprentices’ den.
While he waited, Firestar sent Ravenpaw and the three RiverClan cats to see Cinderpelt; Graystripe went with them to explain what had happened, and to assure himself that his kits would be all right. Though the gray warrior was cold and drenched from the icy river, all his concern was for his kits, and as they crossed the clearing he stuck close to their side like a bulky shadow.
“I don’t know what to think,” meowed Whitestorm when they had gone. “Maybe Tawnypaw got some idea into her head and went off by herself. She could be trapped or injured somewhere—”
“Or she could be in ShadowClan,” Brackenfur interrupted, his fur bristling. “Tigerstar could have stolen her!”
“But Tigerstar was over in RiverClan territory,” Firestar told them quietly. “So were Blackfoot and Darkstripe.” He saw Whitestorm’s ears twitch in surprise, and he knew he would have to explain every thing to his deputy as soon as possible.
“He could have sent some other cat to do his dirty work,” Cloudtail put in.
“Have you scented ShadowClan cats around the camp?” Firestar asked Whitestorm. “Or RiverClan?”
The white warrior shook his head. “No cats but our own, Firestar.”
“Then it sounds as if she left willingly,” Firestar meowed. “Perhaps she just felt like hunting by herself for a change.” But he couldn’t help remembering the incident before he left the camp, when Tawnypaw had been furious with Smallear for comparing her with her father. Firestar wondered if he had misjudged how hurt she had felt.
He broke off his thoughts as Bramblepaw came up. “Tell me what Tawnypaw did before she disappeared,” Firestar ordered.
“Just the usual apprentice chores.” Bramblepaw sounded anxious; his amber eyes were wide and confused. “We changed the elders’ bedding and brought them fresh-kill, and I went to get some mouse bile from Cinderpelt to put on a tick in Smallear’s fur. When I came back Tawnypaw had gone, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Where have you looked so far?”
“I went back to where we got the moss for the bedding, but she wasn’t there,” his app
rentice replied. “And I checked the training hollow.”
Firestar nodded. “Did you ask the elders if she said anything to them?”
“I did,” replied Whitestorm, “but they couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary.”
“And what about Goldenflower?” Firestar went on. “Did Tawnypaw say anything to her?”
Whitestorm shook his head. “She was frantic. I sent her with Mousefur to search toward Tallpines. They aren’t back yet.”
“Did you try to track Tawnypaw?” Firestar asked.
“Yes, of course,” Brackenfur replied. “We tracked her to the top of the ravine, but after that we lost the scent.”
Firestar hesitated. More than anything he wanted to believe that there was an easy explanation for Tawnypaw’s absence. StarClan forbid he should wish a young cat to be lying injured somewhere, but even that would be preferable to his worst fears, that Tawnypaw had gone willingly to join her father.
“I’ll try again,” he decided. “It’s probably too late, but—”
“I’ll come with you,” Cloudtail offered.
Firestar gave him a nod of gratitude; Cloudtail was one of the best trackers in the Clan. “Okay,” he meowed. “Sandstorm, Thornclaw, you come too.”
Firestar led the way out of the camp again. Exhaustion dragged at his paws; the night was half-over, and so far he had not slept. He would have liked nothing better than to settle down in his den with a piece of fresh-kill, but he guessed it would be a long time before he could do that.
It was not difficult to pick up Tawnypaw’s scent in the ravine, even though it was fading by now, but toward the top he lost it, as Brackenfur had done. Firestar began to suspect that the young cat had leaped from rock to rock, where her scent would not linger, so as to confuse any cats who might try to follow her. Firestar’s worst fears flooded back; had Tawnypaw really been so unhappy in ThunderClan that she felt she had to leave?
