Rising Storm

by Erin Hunter

  Fireheart ran to catch up with her. “Me too,” he replied.

  “You were a fast learner. I chose well when I invited you into my Clan,” Bluestar murmured. She looked back over her shoulder at Fireheart, and he saw pride in her eyes. He blinked gratefully at her.

  “All the Clans have much to thank you for,” Bluestar continued. “You drove Brokentail out of ShadowClan, brought WindClan home from exile, helped RiverClan when they were flooded, and saved ThunderClan from Tigerclaw.” Fireheart began to feel a little overwhelmed by her praise as she went on: “No other warrior has your sense of fairness or loyalty or courage….”

  Fireheart’s fur pricked uneasily. “But all the ThunderClan cats respect the warrior code as I do,” he pointed out. “Every one of them would sacrifice themselves to protect you and the Clan.”

  Bluestar stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Fireheart. “You are the only cat who dared oppose Tigerclaw,” she reminded him.

  “But I was the only one who knew that he killed Redtail!” Fireheart had still been an apprentice when he had found out that the ThunderClan warrior had been responsible for the death of Bluestar’s loyal deputy. But he had been unable to prove Tigerclaw’s murderous secret until the traitor had led the rogue cats against his own Clan.

  A fiery resentment flashed in Bluestar’s eyes. “Graystripe knew too. It was only you who saved me!”

  Fireheart looked away, lost for words. His ears twitched uncomfortably. It looked as if Bluestar didn’t trust any of her warriors except him and maybe Whitestorm. Fireheart realized that Tigerclaw had done more damage than any of the Clan could possibly imagine. The dark warrior had poisoned their leader’s judgment and drained away all her confidence in her warriors.

  “Come on!” snapped Bluestar.

  Fireheart watched the gray she-cat stalk away through the forest, her shoulders stiff and her tail fluffed up. He shivered. Although the sky was still bright overhead, he felt as if a black cloud had blotted out the sun and cast an ominous shadow over their journey.

  They reached Fourtrees as the sun broke through the leaves at the top of the trees. Fireheart followed Bluestar down the slope into the valley, where the four great oaks stood, guarding the place where the Clans met each full moon under a single night’s truce. The two cats passed the Great Rock where the leaders of each Clan stood to address the Gathering, and headed up the far side of the valley.

  As the grassy hill turned steeper and rockier, Fireheart noticed that Bluestar was struggling to keep up the pace. She grunted each time she jumped onto the next rock, and Fireheart had to slow down so that he didn’t pass her.

  At the top of the slope, Bluestar stopped and sat down, wheezing.

  “Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.

  “Not so young…” panted Bluestar.

  Fireheart felt a pang of worry. He had assumed that her physical injuries from the battle had healed. Where had this sudden weakness come from? It made her seem older and more vulnerable than ever. Perhaps it’s just climbing in this heat, he thought hopefully. After all, her pelt is thicker than mine.

  While Bluestar caught her breath, Fireheart peered nervously across the stunted gorse and heather that covered the uplands. This was WindClan territory, stretching away from them under the cloudless sky. He felt even uneasier here than on the RiverClan border. WindClan was still angry with ThunderClan because they had given sanctuary to the former ShadowClan leader, and it was Bluestar herself who had decided to take in the blinded Brokentail. What would a WindClan patrol do if they found the ThunderClan leader on their territory, with only one warrior to guard her? Fireheart wasn’t sure if he could protect his leader against a whole patrol.

  “We must be careful not to be spotted,” he whispered.

  “What did you say?” called Bluestar. The breeze was stronger up here, and even though it did nothing to ease the sun’s burning heat, it carried Fireheart’s words away.

  “We must be careful they don’t see us!” Fireheart reluctantly raised his voice.

  “Why?” Bluestar demanded. “We’re traveling to the Moonstone. StarClan has granted us the right to travel safely!”

  Fireheart realized it would be a waste of time to argue. “I’ll lead the way,” he offered.

  He knew the uplands well, better than most ThunderClan cats. He’d been here many times before, but he’d never felt as exposed and vulnerable as he did now. Quickly he led Bluestar into the sea of heather, praying that StarClan had as much belief in their right to travel here as Bluestar did, and that their warrior ancestors would protect them from any passing WindClan patrols. He also hoped that Bluestar had enough sense to keep her ears and tail low.

  The sun was reaching its highest point as they neared the swathe of gorse at the heart of WindClan’s territory. Fourtrees was far behind them, but there was still a long way to go before they reached the slope at the edge of the moor that ran down into Twoleg farmland. Fireheart paused. A hot breeze was blowing toward him, as stifling as the breath of a sick cat, and he knew their scent would be carried back through WindClan territory. He just hoped the perfume of the honey-rich heather would mask it. Beside him, Bluestar signaled with a flick of her tail and vanished into the gorse.

  An angry yowl sounded from behind them. Fireheart spun around and backed away, wincing as the gorse pricked his haunches. Three WindClan cats faced him, their fur bristling and their ears flattened.

  “Intruders. Why are you here?” hissed a mottled dark brown tabby. Fireheart recognized Mudclaw, one of the senior warriors. A gray tabby warrior called Tornear was beside him, his back arched and his claws unsheathed. Fireheart had grown to know and respect these cats when he had escorted WindClan back from their exile in Twoleg territory, but all traces of their former alliance had vanished now. He didn’t recognize the smallest cat—an apprentice, perhaps, but every bit as fierce-looking and wiry as his Clanmates.

  The fur rose along Fireheart’s spine and his heart began to pound, but he tried to stay calm. “We’re just traveling through—” he began.

  “You are on our land,” spat Mudclaw. His eyes shone angrily as he stared at Fireheart.

  Where was Bluestar? Fireheart thought desperately, half wanting her support, half hoping she hadn’t heard Mudclaw’s yowl and was heading safely through the gorse toward Twoleg territory.

  A snarl at his side told him she had returned for him. He glanced quickly to see Bluestar standing at the edge of the gorse with her head held high and her eyes blazing with fury. “We are traveling to Highstones. StarClan grants us safe passage. You have no right to stop us!”

  Mudclaw didn’t flinch. “You gave up your rights to StarClan’s protection when you took Brokentail into your Clan!” he retorted.

  Fireheart could understand the WindClan cats’ anger. He had seen for himself the misery they had endured when they were driven out by Brokentail’s Clan warriors. With a surge of pity he remembered the tiny WindClan kit he’d helped to carry home—it had been the only one of its litter to survive. The former ShadowClan leader had nearly destroyed the Clan with his cruelty.

  Fireheart stared into Mudclaw’s fierce gaze. “Brokentail is dead,” he told him.

  Mudclaw’s eyes glittered. “You killed him?” he demanded.

  As Fireheart hesitated, Bluestar growled menacingly from his side. “Of course we didn’t kill him. ThunderClan aren’t murderers.”

  “No,” Mudclaw spat back. “You just protect them!” The WindClan warrior arched his back aggressively.

  Disappointed, Fireheart felt his mind whirl as he tried to think of another way to convince WindClan.

  “You will let us pass!” Bluestar hissed. Fireheart froze as he saw his leader flexing her claws and raising her hackles, ready to attack.

  CHAPTER 6

  “StarClan grants us safe passage,” Bluestar repeated stubbornly.

  “Go home!” snarled Mudclaw.

  Fireheart’s paws tingled as he sized up their opponents. Three stro
ng cats against him and the unfit ThunderClan leader. They would not escape a fight without serious injury, and there was no way he could risk Bluestar’s losing a life—not when he knew that she was on the last of her nine lives, which were granted by StarClan to all Clan leaders.

  “We should go home,” Fireheart hissed at Bluestar. The she-cat swung her head around and stared at him in disbelief. “We’re too far from safety and this isn’t a battle we can fight,” he urged her.

  “But I must speak with StarClan!” meowed Bluestar.

  “Another time,” Fireheart insisted. Bluestar’s eyes clouded with indecision and he added, “We’d not win this battle.”

  He twitched with relief as Bluestar retracted her claws and let the fur on her shoulders relax. The ThunderClan leader turned back to Mudclaw and meowed, “Very well, we’ll go home. But we will return. You cannot cut us off from StarClan forever!”

  Mudclaw flattened his back and replied, “You’ve made a wise decision.”

  Fireheart growled at Mudclaw. “Did you hear what Bluestar said?” Mudclaw narrowed his eyes threateningly, but Fireheart went on: “We will leave this time, but you will never again stop us from traveling to the Moonstone.”

  Mudclaw turned away. “We’ll escort you back to Fourtrees.”

  Fireheart tensed, afraid of how Bluestar would react to the suggestion that the WindClan warrior did not trust the ThunderClan cats to leave his territory. But she simply padded forward, brushing past the WindClan cats as she headed back the way they had come.

  Fireheart walked after her, followed at a distance by the WindClan cats. He was aware of them rustling through the heather behind him, and when he looked over his shoulder he caught glimpses of their lithe, brown shapes among the purple flowers. Frustration pricked at his paws with every step. He would not let WindClan block their way again.

  They reached Fourtrees and began to climb back down the rocky slope, leaving the WindClan warriors at the top watching them with hostile, narrowed eyes. Bluestar was starting to look very tired. With each leap she landed heavily and grunted. Fireheart was frightened the she-cat would slip, but she kept her footing until they reached the grass at the bottom. Fireheart looked back up the hill to see the three WindClan cats silhouetted against the wide, glaring sky before they turned and vanished back into their own territory.

  As the ThunderClan cats passed the Great Rock, Bluestar let out a long moan. “Are you all right?” Fireheart asked, stopping.

  Bluestar shook her head impatiently. “StarClan does not want to share dreams with me,” she muttered. “Why are they so angry with my Clan?”

  “WindClan stood in our way, not StarClan,” Fireheart reminded her. But he couldn’t help feeling that StarClan could have brought them better luck. Smallear’s words echoed through his mind: Fireheart’s naming broke with Clan ritual for the first time since before I was born.

  Fireheart felt his head spin with alarm. Were the warrior ancestors really angry with Thunderclan?

  From the surprised murmurs that greeted their news when Fireheart and Bluestar padded back into camp, Fireheart guessed that the Clan shared his fears. Never before had a leader been turned back on a journey to the Moonstone.

  Bluestar padded unsteadily to her den, her eyes fixed on the dusty ground as she crossed the clearing. Fireheart watched her with a heavy heart. Suddenly the sun felt too hot to bear beneath his thick coat. He headed for the shade at the edge of the clearing, and noticed Dustpelt padding toward him from the gorse tunnel, Ashpaw at his heels.

  “You’re back early,” meowed the tabby warrior. He circled Fireheart as Ashpaw stood wide-eyed and looked up at the two warriors.

  “WindClan wouldn’t let us pass,” Fireheart explained.

  “Didn’t you tell them you were going to Highstones?” asked Dustpelt, sitting down beside his apprentice.

  “Of course,” snapped Fireheart.

  He saw Dustpelt’s eyes flick toward the gorse tunnel and turned to see Darkstripe and Fernpaw enter the camp. Fernpaw looked exhausted as she ran to keep up with her mentor, her fur clumped and dusty.

  “What are you doing back?” Darkstripe asked, narrowing his eyes at Fireheart.

  “WindClan wouldn’t let them pass,” Dustpelt announced. Fernpaw looked up at Dustpelt, her pretty green eyes round with surprise.

  “What? How dare they?” Darkstripe meowed, his tail bristling angrily.

  “I don’t know why Fireheart let them boss him around,” commented Dustpelt.

  “I didn’t have much choice,” Fireheart growled. “Would you have risked your leader’s safety?”

  Runningwind’s meow sounded across the clearing. “Fireheart!” The lean warrior was trotting toward him, looking agitated. Darkstripe and Dustpelt glanced at each other and led their apprentices away. Runningwind reached Fireheart and asked, “Have you seen Cloudpaw anywhere?”

  “No.” Fireheart felt his heart lurch. “I thought he was going out with you this afternoon.”

  “I told him to wait till I’d washed.” Runningwind seemed more angry than worried. “But when I’d finished, Brightpaw told me he’d gone hunting by himself.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fireheart apologized, sighing inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was Cloudpaw’s disobedience. “I’ll speak to him when he gets back.”

  Runningwind’s eyes glittered with annoyance and he looked unconvinced by Fireheart’s promise. Fireheart was about to apologize again when he saw Runningwind’s expression turn to disbelief as Cloudpaw scampered into the camp, a squirrel grasped in his jaws. The apprentice’s eyes shone with pride at the catch, which was almost as big as he was. Runningwind snorted with exasperation.

  “I’ll sort it out,” Fireheart meowed quickly. He sensed Runningwind had plenty more to say about Cloudpaw, but the warrior just nodded and padded away.

  Fireheart watched the white cat carry his squirrel to the fresh-kill pile. Cloudpaw dropped it and wandered toward the apprentices’ den without taking any food for himself, even though there was plenty of prey. With a sinking feeling, Fireheart guessed that Cloudpaw had already eaten while out hunting. How many times could Cloudpaw break the warrior code in a single day? he wondered irritably.

  “Cloudpaw!” called Fireheart.

  Cloudpaw looked up. “What?” he mewed.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  As Cloudpaw padded slowly toward him, Fireheart was uncomfortably aware of Runningwind watching from outside the warriors’ den.

  “Did you eat while out hunting?” he demanded as soon as Cloudpaw neared.

  Cloudpaw shrugged. “So what if I did? I was hungry.”

  “What does the warrior code tell us about eating before the Clan is fed?”

  Cloudpaw looked at the treetops. “If it’s anything like the rest of the code, it’ll tell me I can’t,” he muttered.

  Fireheart pushed away his rising exasperation. “Did you fetch that pigeon?”

  “I couldn’t. It was gone.”

  With a shock Fireheart realized he didn’t know if he believed Cloudpaw or not. He decided there was no point pursuing it. “Why didn’t you go hunting with Runningwind?” he asked instead.

  “He was taking too long to get ready. Anyway, I prefer hunting alone!”

  “You’re still just an apprentice,” Fireheart reminded him sternly. “You’ll learn better if you hunt with a warrior.”

  Cloudpaw sighed and nodded. “Yes, Fireheart.”

  Fireheart had no idea if Cloudpaw had really listened or not. “You’ll never be given your warrior name if you carry on like this! How do you think you’ll feel watching Ashpaw’s and Fernpaw’s naming ceremonies when you’re still an apprentice?”

  “That’ll never happen,” Cloudpaw argued.

  “Well, one thing’s for certain,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll be staying at camp while they go to the next Gathering.”

  Finally Fireheart seemed to have Cloudpaw’s attention. The white-haired apprentice stared up at h
im in disbelief. “But—” he began.

  “When I report this to Bluestar, I think she’ll agree with me,” Fireheart interrupted him fiercely. “Now, go away!”

  Tail down, Cloudpaw padded off toward the other apprentices, who were watching from outside their den. Fireheart didn’t even bother looking to see if Runningwind had witnessed the scene. Right now he didn’t care what the Clan thought of his apprentice. The opinions of the other cats seemed to pale into insignificance next to his growing fear that Cloudpaw would never become a true warrior.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Bluestar, it’s been a quarter moon since we returned from the uplands.” Fireheart carefully avoided mentioning the Moonstone. Even though they were alone in her den, he still felt uncomfortable mentioning their fruitless expedition. “There’s been no sign of WindClan in our territory, or ShadowClan.” Bluestar narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but Fireheart pressed on. “There are so many apprentices in training, and the woods are so full of prey, that it is hard to keep three warriors in camp all the time. I…I think two would be plenty.”

  “But what if we’re attacked again?” Bluestar fretted.

  “If WindClan really intended to harm ThunderClan,” Fireheart pointed out, “Mudclaw wouldn’t have let you leave the uplands….” alive, he finished silently, letting his words trail away.

  “Okay.” Bluestar nodded, her eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “Only two warriors need stay in camp.”

  “Thanks, Bluestar.” This was going to make the task of organizing all the guards, hunting parties, and apprentice training much easier. “I’ll go and sort out tomorrow’s patrols.” Fireheart dipped his head respectfully and left the den.

  Outside the warriors were waiting for him. “Whitestorm, you lead the dawn patrol,” Fireheart ordered. “Take Sandstorm and Ashpaw with you. Brackenfur, Dustpelt, you’ll guard the camp while I’m hunting with Cloudpaw.” He looked around at the remaining warriors, realizing how much more confident he felt about arranging the patrols. He’d had a lot of practice since Bluestar stayed in her den so much nowadays. Pushing away the unsettling thought, Fireheart went on: “I’ll leave it up to the rest of you whether you train your apprentices or take them hunting, but I want the fresh-kill pile as full as it is today. We’re getting used to eating well!” An amused purr ran through the group of warriors. “Darkstripe, you lead tomorrow’s sunhigh patrol. Runningwind, you take sunset. You can choose who you take with you; just be sure to let them know so they can be ready in time.”