by Erin Hunter
“Thanks for sending Ravenpaw to me,” replied Barley. “He’s turning into a fine ratter. And it’s good to share a meal with a fellow cat from time to time.”
“Is he happy here?” asked Fireheart.
“Ask him yourself,” meowed Barley, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.
Fireheart padded over to Tallstar, who was washing his paws. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing how swollen and painful they looked. “We’ll take it in turns to keep watch tonight, if you like,” he offered, flicking his head toward Graystripe and Ravenpaw.
Tallstar looked up at him gratefully, exhaustion clouding his eyes. “Thank you,” he meowed. Fireheart blinked respectfully at the WindClan leader and went to tell Ravenpaw and Graystripe.
His offer to Tallstar had been genuine, but it also meant he could be alone with his two friends. He was desperate to get Ravenpaw out of earshot of the WindClan cats and ask him what he had been up to. Graystripe and Ravenpaw bounded over to his side as soon as he called them.
Fireheart led them to a corner of the Twoleg nest, close enough to the entrance for them to keep watch, but far enough away from the other cats that they could talk in private. “So what happened after we left you?” he asked Ravenpaw as soon as the three friends had settled down.
“I headed straight across the WindClan territory, like you suggested.”
“What about the Twolegs’ dogs?” Graystripe put in. “Were they loose?”
“Yes, but it was easy to avoid them,” Ravenpaw told him.
Fireheart was surprised by how casually his friend dismissed the dogs. “Easy?” he echoed.
“I could smell them from a long way off. I just waited until dawn, and once the dogs were tied up again, I tracked down Barley. He’s been great. I think he likes having me around.” Ravenpaw’s expression suddenly clouded. “Which is more than Tigerclaw ever did,” he meowed bitterly. “What did you tell him?”
Fireheart recognized the hunted look in Ravenpaw’s eyes as he spoke about his old mentor. “We said you’d been killed by a ShadowClan patrol,” he answered quietly. Two WindClan apprentices were wandering toward them. Fireheart twitched his ears to warn his friends they had an audience.
“Oh, yes,” meowed Ravenpaw, raising his voice. “We loners eat Clan apprentices whenever we can catch one.”
The WindClan apprentices shot him a scornful look. “You don’t scare us,” they mewed.
“Really?” purred Ravenpaw. “Well, I guess your meat would be tough and stringy, anyway.”
“How come you’re such good friends with a loner?” one apprentice asked Fireheart.
“A wise warrior makes friends wherever he can,” Fireheart replied. “If it weren’t for this loner, we’d still be cold and hungry instead of dry and well fed!” He narrowed his eyes in warning and the apprentices slunk away.
“So ThunderClan thinks I’m dead,” meowed Ravenpaw when they had gone. He gazed down at his paws. “Well, it’s probably for the best.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Fireheart and Graystripe. “I’m glad I’ve seen you again,” he meowed warmly. Fireheart purred, and Graystripe prodded his friend affectionately with a hind paw. “But you look tired,” Ravenpaw continued. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight. I can rest tomorrow.” He stood up and gently licked each of his old friends on the head. Then he padded to the entrance of the shelter, sat down, and stared out into the rain.
Fireheart looked at Graystripe. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” admitted Graystripe. The gray warrior rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Fireheart took a final look at Ravenpaw sitting alone in the entrance. He knew now that he had made the right decision in helping Ravenpaw to leave ThunderClan. Perhaps Bluestar had been right when she’d said Ravenpaw would be better off without the Clan. Each cat has his own destiny, he thought. Ravenpaw was happy, and that was all that mattered.
When Fireheart woke, Ravenpaw was gone. It was past dawn. The gray rain clouds had begun to drift away. Tinged by the rosy glow of the rising sun, they looked like blossoms floating across a pond. Fireheart stared through a gap in the roof and watched them as the WindClan cats stirred and helped themselves to the leftovers of last night’s catch.
A short-tailed brown tom joined Fireheart and gazed up at the clouds with him. Fireheart jumped as a curious yowl suddenly escaped the brown tom’s throat. The noise brought the other WindClan cats crowding around them, murmuring and anxious.
“What is it, Barkface?” prompted Morningflower. “Has StarClan spoken to you?” Fireheart realized that this tom must be WindClan’s medicine cat. He tensed instinctively at the sight of Barkface’s bristling fur.
“The clouds are stained with blood!” rasped Barkface, his eyes wide and glazed. “It is a sign from our ancestors. There is trouble ahead. This day shall bring an unnecessary death.”
CHAPTER 7
For a moment, none of the cats moved or spoke. Then Deadfoot growled, “Any of the Clans could see those clouds. We can’t be sure that the message is for us.”
Hopeful mews spread through WindClan. Tallstar surveyed his Clan, then meowed calmly, “Whatever StarClan has planned for us, today we return to our home. I can smell more rain in the air. It’s time we set off.” Fireheart felt relieved at the leader’s practical tone. The last thing they needed was hysteria at an ominous prophecy.
Tallstar led the way out into the chilly morning air. Fireheart and Graystripe followed. The WindClan leader was right: the wind carried the promise of more rain, and soon.
“Shall we scout ahead?” Fireheart offered.
“Yes, please,” replied Tallstar. “Let me know if you see dogs, Twolegs, or rats. My Clan is stronger this morning, but we had trouble with dogs on the way out. We must stay alert.” Fireheart could see from the worried look in the leader’s eyes that Barkface’s warning had disturbed him more than his confident words suggested. His Clan might be stronger, but it was in no state to fight off attackers.
Fireheart raced away with Graystripe at his heels. They took turns going back to the Clan, telling Tallstar that the way ahead was clear, or warning him to stay back while a Twoleg passed by with a dog. The WindClan cats wordlessly obeyed their leader, plodding on heavy paws in spite of their night’s rest.
By sunhigh dark clouds had gathered once more, and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. The ground began to slope upward, and when Fireheart pushed his way through a hedge, he recognized the red dirt track that led away from Twoleg territory and into WindClan’s hunting grounds. His spirits soared, and he met Graystripe’s gaze with a look of triumph. Nearly there!
The muffled tramp of pawsteps sounded behind the hedge. Fireheart spun around and darted back into the field. The WindClan cats had caught up with them. Deadfoot was at the head of the group. He looked startled by Fireheart’s sudden appearance.
“This way,” Fireheart meowed, showing him the gap through the dripping leaves. He was eager to see WindClan’s reaction when they glimpsed the uplands on the other side. With Deadfoot leading, the cats began to file slowly through.
Fireheart followed close behind the last cat, but Deadfoot and two warriors had already leaped the ditch and crossed the track, and were pushing into the hedgerow on the other side. Their pace had quickened—they clearly knew where they were. Fireheart had to sprint to catch up. He followed them through the hedge and kept up with them as they bounded toward the long slope that led to the uplands, and their home.
At the foot of the slope, Deadfoot and his warriors paused to wait for the rest of the Clan. They closed their eyes against the rain but held their heads high. Fireheart could see their chests rising and falling as they breathed in the familiar scents sweeping from the uplands.
Fireheart ran back to the rest of the Clan, looking for Morningflower. He spotted her walking beside a tabby warrior who held her kit in his mouth. Every few steps the tortoiseshell queen stretched her head to sniff the wet li
ttle bundle. It would not be long now before she could settle her kit into the WindClan nursery.
Fireheart fell into step beside Graystripe at the rear. They glanced happily at each other but didn’t speak, too caught up in WindClan’s excitement at coming home. Even the elders were moving swiftly now, keeping their bodies low and their eyes narrowed against the rain. As the Clan joined Deadfoot at the foot of the slope, the deputy got to his paws and Tallstar took the lead. Without pausing, Tallstar began to follow a narrow sheep trail through the rough grass and heather.
As the Clan neared the top, some of the warriors raced ahead again. At the brow of the hill, they made proud silhouettes against the stormy sky, while the wind sent ripples through their fur. Ahead stretched their old hunting grounds. Suddenly two apprentices charged past Fireheart and bounded away into the familiar heather.
Tallstar stiffened. “Wait!” he yowled. “There might be hunting parties from the other Clans here!”
As soon as they heard him, the apprentices skidded to a halt and pelted back to join the Clan, their eyes still bright with exhilaration.
From a rock-strewn ridge Fireheart saw the dip in the ground that concealed WindClan’s camp. With a purr of delight Morningflower took her kit from the mouth of the tabby warrior and hurried toward the hollow. Tallstar flicked his tail and three warriors raced forward to escort her as she disappeared over the edge and down into the camp.
The WindClan leader paused while the rest of his Clan rushed into the sheltering bushes below. He turned to Fireheart and Graystripe, his eyes shining. “My Clan is grateful for your help,” he meowed. “You have both proved you are warriors worthy of StarClan. WindClan has come home, and it is time for you to return to yours.”
Fireheart felt a pang of disappointment. He’d wanted to see Morningflower settled in the nursery with her kit. But Tallstar was right: there was no need for them to stay here any longer.
Tallstar spoke again. “There may be hostile hunting parties around. Onewhisker and Deadfoot will escort you to Fourtrees.”
Fireheart bowed his head. “Thank you, Tallstar.”
Tallstar called to his warriors and gave them their orders. Then he turned his tired eyes once more to Fireheart. “You have served WindClan well. Tell Bluestar that WindClan will not forget it was ThunderClan who brought them home.”
Deadfoot padded away in the direction of Fourtrees. Fireheart and Graystripe walked after him with Onewhisker at their side. They stayed close together as they followed a narrow path through a solid mass of gorse that provided good shelter against the rain.
Suddenly Onewhisker stopped and sniffed the air. “Rabbit!” he called out joyfully before charging away into the gorse. Deadfoot stopped and waited. Fireheart could see a glint in the deputy’s tired eyes. There was a rush of pawsteps in the distance and the rustle of gorse, then silence.
A moment later Onewhisker returned with a large rabbit dangling from his jaws.
Graystripe leaned toward Fireheart. “A little better than the RiverClan warriors, eh?”
Fireheart purred in agreement.
Onewhisker dropped the fresh-kill on the ground. “Anyone hungry?”
They ate the rabbit gratefully. When he’d eaten his share, Fireheart sat up and licked his lips. He felt refreshed by the meal, but a weary coldness was beginning to nag at his bones, and his paws felt sore. If he and Graystripe followed the route they’d come, past Fourtrees, they still had a long way to go. What if they took a shortcut through RiverClan’s hunting grounds? After all, they were on a mission that had been agreed to, at the Gathering at least, by all the Clans. Could RiverClan really object if they passed through their territory? It wasn’t as if they were going to steal prey.
Fireheart looked around at his companions and meowed tentatively, “You know, it’d be quicker if we followed the river.”
Graystripe looked up from washing his paw. “But that would mean crossing into RiverClan territory.”
“We could follow the gorge,” Fireheart explained. “RiverClan doesn’t hunt there; it’s too steep for them to get down to the river.”
Graystripe gently rested a damp paw on the ground. “Even my claws ache,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t mind taking a shorter route.” He turned his yellow eyes hopefully to the WindClan deputy.
Deadfoot looked thoughtful. “Tallstar ordered us to travel with you to Fourtrees,” he meowed.
“If you don’t want to come with us, we’ll understand,” Fireheart answered quickly. “We’ll only be in RiverClan territory for a blink. I can’t see us meeting any trouble.”
Graystripe nodded, but Deadfoot shook his head. “We couldn’t let you go into RiverClan territory alone,” he meowed. “You’re exhausted. If you did meet trouble, you’re in no state to deal with it.”
“We won’t meet anyone!” Fireheart had convinced himself and was determined to convince Deadfoot too.
Deadfoot gazed at him with wise old eyes. “If we did go that way,” he mused, “it would let RiverClan know that WindClan is back.”
Fireheart pricked his ears in understanding. “And once they’ve smelled fresh WindClan scent, they might not be so keen to come rabbit hunting in your territory again.”
Onewhisker licked the last traces of fresh-kill from his lips and remarked, “It’ll mean we’ll be home before moonrise!”
“You just want to make sure you get a good nest in your den!” Deadfoot retorted. His voice was stern but there was a good-natured gleam in his eye.
“Then we’re going through RiverClan territory?” Fireheart asked.
“Yes,” decided Deadfoot. He changed direction and led the cats along an old badger trail that took them away from the barren uplands. Soon they were in RiverClan’s territory. Even through the wind and the rain, Fireheart could hear the roaring of the river as it crashed and thundered somewhere up ahead.
The cats followed the trail toward the noise. The path shrank until it was little more than a narrow strip of grass on the very edge of a deep gorge. On one side the land stretched upward, steep and rocky; on the other it plunged straight down. Fireheart could see the far side of the gorge only a few fox lengths away. The space looked tantalizingly narrow, and Fireheart wondered if he could leap the gap. Perhaps if he weren’t so tired and hungry…His paws prickled with fear at the thought of falling, but he couldn’t resist peering over the side.
Beneath his paws, the ground dropped away in a sheer cliff. Ferns clung to tiny ledges, their leaves glistening, not from rain, but from the spray of the swollen torrent that foamed at the bottom of the gorge.
Fireheart pulled back from the edge, the fur along his spine bristling with fear. Ahead of him Deadfoot, Onewhisker, and Graystripe plodded steadily on, heads down. They would have to follow this path until they could cut away from it, through the small strip of forest that stood between them and ThunderClan territory.
Fireheart stumbled as he hurried to catch up. Deadfoot’s ears were pricked and his tail flattened so that it almost dragged along the ground. Onewhisker was clearly nervous too; he kept looking sharply up the slope beside them as if he could hear something. Fireheart could hear nothing but the roaring of the river. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder, his eyes darting from side to side. The WindClan cats’ wariness was making him uneasy.
The steep slope began to flatten out until they could move farther away from the cliff edge. The rain was still driving into their faces, and the darkening sky told Fireheart that the sun was setting, but it would not be long now before they reached the forest. There would be more shelter there. The thought of food and a dry nest cheered Fireheart.
Suddenly a warning yowl rumbled in Deadfoot’s throat. Fireheart stiffened and tasted the air. A RiverClan patrol! A screech sounded from behind them, and the cats spun around to see six RiverClan warriors charging toward them. Fireheart’s fur stood on end with horror. The deep gorge with its raging waters was still dangerously close.
A dark brown RiverClan cat landed on
top of him. Fireheart rolled away from the gorge, kicking furiously with his back legs. He felt teeth bite into his shoulders and struggled under the weight of the hissing warrior. He scrabbled desperately on the sodden ground, trying to free himself. The RiverClan warrior raked his side with sharp claws. Fireheart twisted and bit into the fur of his attacker. He clamped his jaws tight and heard the warrior yowl, but the other cat’s claws only raked him more fiercely. “This will be the last time you set foot in RiverClan territory,” hissed the brown tom.
Around him Fireheart was aware of his companions struggling fiercely. He knew they were as exhausted as he was from the long trek. He could hear Graystripe yowling violently. Onewhisker hissed with pain and rage. Then, from the forest behind them, another sound reached Fireheart’s ears. It was full of fury—yet it filled Fireheart with a surge of hope. Tigerclaw’s war cry! Fireheart smelled the fast-approaching battle-scent of a ThunderClan patrol—Tigerclaw, Willowpelt, Whitestorm, and Sandpaw.
Yowling and spitting, the ThunderClan cats leaped into the fray. The brown tom released Fireheart and he quickly struggled to his paws. He watched as Tigerclaw pinned a gray tabby tom to the ground, giving a warning bite to the tom’s hind leg. The tom ran screeching away into the bushes. Tigerclaw whipped around and fixed his pale eyes on Leopardfur. The mottled RiverClan deputy was wrestling with Deadfoot. The lame warrior was no match for the ferocious RiverClan she-cat. Fireheart prepared to leap to the rescue, but Tigerclaw was ahead of him. The dark warrior dived forward and grasped Leopardfur’s wide shoulders. With a mighty yowl, he hauled her off the scrawny WindClan deputy.
Fireheart heard a vicious squeal behind him. He spun around to see Sandpaw locked in battle with another RiverClan she-cat. Twisting and tussling, the pair rolled over and over on the wet grass, spitting and clawing each other fiercely. Fireheart gasped. They were rolling toward the rocky edge of the gorge! One more roll and they would be over the side.
