by Erin Hunter
“What if another monster comes?” asked Graystripe, voicing Fireheart’s fear.
“We will keep to the side,” Bluestar replied calmly. “You saw how slowly that monster was moving. Maybe they don’t like getting their paws wet.”
Fireheart saw that Graystripe still looked doubtful. He shared his friend’s worries, but there was no point in protesting any more. Tigerclaw would just berate them for being cowards.
“Bluestar, wait,” called Whitestorm as the Clan leader waded into the water. “Remember how low our territory is on the other side of this stream? I can’t help thinking it will be flooded there, too. I don’t think we’ll get to Fourtrees without going onto ShadowClan territory, which is higher.”
A cat close to Fireheart let out a faint hiss, and Fireheart felt another pang of fear. A band of warriors setting paw across the border of a Clan with which they had recently battled? If a patrol caught them, they would think it was an invasion.
Bluestar paused with water lapping over her paws, and looked back at Whitestorm. “Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but we’ll have to risk it, if it’s the only way.”
She set off again without giving her cats any time to protest. There was nothing to do but follow. Fireheart splashed along the edge of the Thunderpath just behind Whitestorm. Tigerclaw brought up the rear to keep a lookout for monsters coming up from behind.
At first everything was quiet, except for a single monster traveling in the other direction on the opposite side of the Thunderpath. Then Fireheart heard the familiar growling and the splash of an approaching monster.
“Look out!” Tigerclaw yowled from the end of the line.
Fireheart froze, pressing himself against the low wall that edged the Thunderpath as it crossed the stream. Darkstripe scrambled on top of it and crouched there, baring his teeth at the monster as it passed. For a moment its strange, glittering colors were reflected in the stinking water, and a wave washed out from it, soaking Fireheart as far as his belly fur.
Then it was gone, and Fireheart could breathe again.
As they reached the other side of the stream Fireheart could see that Whitestorm was right. The low-lying land on the ThunderClan side was covered with water. There was nothing to do but continue along the edge of the Thunderpath until the land rose and was dry enough to walk on.
Stepping thankfully off the paw-achingly hard Thunderpath, Fireheart raised his head and opened his jaws. A strong, rank stench filled his scent glands—the scent of ShadowClan! They had followed the Thunderpath out of ThunderClan territory, and now a swath of ShadowClan land lay between them and the Gathering at Fourtrees.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Willowpelt murmured uneasily.
If Bluestar heard the comment, she ignored it, quickening the pace until they were racing across the sodden turf. There were few trees here, and the close-cropped grass offered no cover for trespassing cats. Fireheart’s heart was beating fast, and not only from the speed of their journey. If ShadowClan cats caught them, they would be in trouble, but Fourtrees was not far away, and their luck might hold.
Then he caught sight of a dark shadow streaking over the ground ahead of them, on a course to intercept Bluestar at the head of her patrol. More shadows followed, and a furious yowling split the quiet of the night.
For a heartbeat Bluestar quickened her pace, as if she thought she could outrun the challengers. Then she slowed to a stop. Her warriors did the same. Fireheart stood panting; the shadows drew closer, and he saw that they were ShadowClan cats, headed by their leader, Nightstar.
“Bluestar!” he spat as he halted in front of the ThunderClan leader. “Why have you brought your cats onto ShadowClan land?”
“In these floods, it was the only way to reach Fourtrees,” Bluestar replied, her voice low and steady. “We mean no harm, Nightstar. You know there’s a truce for the Gathering.”
Nightstar hissed, his ears flattened against his head and his fur bristling. “The truce holds at Fourtrees,” he snarled. “There is no truce here.”
Instinctively, Fireheart dropped into a defensive crouch. The ShadowClan cats—apprentices and elders as well as warriors—slipped silently into a semicircle around the smaller band from ThunderClan. Like Nightstar, their coats were bristling and their tails lashed in anger. Their hostile eyes reflected the cold light of the moon. Fireheart knew that if it came to a fight, ThunderClan was hopelessly outnumbered.
“Nightstar, I’m sorry,” meowed Bluestar. “We would never trespass on your territory without good reason. Please let us pass.”
Her words did nothing to appease the ShadowClan cats. Cinderfur, the ShadowClan deputy, moved up beside his leader, a dim shape in the moonlight. “I think they’re here to spy,” he growled softly.
“Spy?” Tigerclaw shouldered his way forward to stand next to Bluestar, his head thrust out toward Cinderfur until their noses were less than a mouse-length apart. “What can we spy on here? We’re nowhere near your camp.”
Cinderfur curled back his lip to reveal thorn-sharp teeth. “Give us the word, Nightstar, and we’ll tear them apart.”
“You can try,” growled Tigerclaw.
For a few heartbeats Nightstar was silent. Fireheart’s muscles tensed. Beside him, Graystripe growled low in his throat. Mousefur bared her teeth at the nearest ShadowClan warrior, and Sandstorm’s pale golden eyes shone with readiness to fight.
“Keep back,” Nightstar grunted at last to his warriors. “We’ll let them pass. I want ThunderClan cats at the Gathering.” Though his words were friendly, he hissed them through bared teeth. Suddenly suspicious, Fireheart whispered to Graystripe, “What does he mean by that?”
Graystripe shrugged. “Dunno. We’ve seen nothing of ShadowClan since the floods started. Who knows what they’re up to?”
“We’ll even give you an escort,” Nightstar went on, narrowing his eyes. “Just to make sure you get to Fourtrees safely. We wouldn’t want ThunderClan to be scared off by an angry mouse, would we?”
A murmur of agreement rose from the ShadowClan warriors. They shifted so that they surrounded the ThunderClan cats on all sides. With a faint nod, Nightstar set off beside Bluestar. The other cats followed, the ShadowClan patrol matching ThunderClan step for step.
ThunderClan headed for the Gathering completely encircled by their enemies.
The moon was at its height as Fireheart and the other ThunderClan cats were herded into the hollow beneath the four oak trees. A fierce, cold light poured down over the members of RiverClan and WindClan who were already assembled. All of them turned to stare curiously at the group descending the slope. Fireheart knew that he and the rest of his Clan must look like prisoners. He stalked along proudly, head and tail held high, defying any cat to say that they had been beaten.
To his relief, the ShadowClan cats slipped away into the shadows as soon as they reached the hollow. Bluestar headed straight for the Great Rock with Tigerclaw at her side. Fireheart looked around for Graystripe, and found that his friend had already disappeared; a moment later he caught sight of him approaching Silverstream, but the silver tabby was surrounded by other RiverClan cats, and Graystripe could only hover nearby, looking frustrated.
Fireheart suppressed a sigh. He knew how much Graystripe must be longing to see Silverstream again, especially now she was expecting kits, but there was a huge risk in meeting at a Gathering, where any cat could catch them together.
“What’s up with you?” Mousefur made him jump. “You look as if you’ve got something on your mind.”
Fireheart stared at the brown warrior. “I…I was thinking about what Nightstar said,” he improvised rapidly. “Why did he say he wants ThunderClan cats here?”
“Well, I’m sure of one thing. He’s not being kind and helpful,” Sandstorm mewed, coming up with Willowpelt beside her. She licked one paw and drew it over her ear. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Trouble’s coming,” Willowpelt meowed over one shoulder as she went to join a group of WindClan
queens. “I can feel it in my paws.”
Uneasier than ever, Fireheart padded back and forth under the trees, listening with one ear to the cats around him. Most of them were sharing harmless gossip, catching up on news from other Clans, and he heard nothing about what ShadowClan were planning. He noticed, though, that all the ShadowClan cats he passed glared at him, still fiercely hostile. And he caught one or two of them glancing up at the Great Rock as if they were impatient for the meeting to start.
At last a yowling sounded from the top of the rock, and the murmuring from the cats below died away. Fireheart found a place at the edge of the hollow where he had a good view of the four Clan leaders, their silhouettes black against the sky.
Sandstorm settled herself beside him, crouching with her paws tucked under her chest. “Now for it,” she whispered expectantly.
Nightstar stepped forward, stiff-legged with barely suppressed fury. “Cats of all Clans, listen to me!” he demanded. “Listen, and remember. Until last greenleaf, Brokenstar was leader of ShadowClan. He was—”
Tallstar, the leader of WindClan, stepped forward to stand beside Nightstar. “Why do you speak that hated name?” he growled. His eyes flashed, and Fireheart knew he was remembering how Brokenstar and his warriors had driven WindClan out of their territory.
“Hated, yes,” Nightstar agreed. “And with good reason, which you know as well as any cat, Tallstar. He stole kits from ThunderClan. He forced kits from his own Clan into battle too early, and they died. In the end he was so bloodthirsty that we—his own Clan—drove him out. And where is he now?” Nightstar’s voice rose to a shriek. “Was he left to die in the forest, or scavenge a living among the Twolegs? No! Because there are cats here tonight who have taken him in. They are traitors to the warrior code, and to every other cat in the forest!”
Fireheart exchanged an uneasy glance with Sandstorm. He could see what was coming, and by the troubled look she gave him in return, so could she.
“ThunderClan!” Nightstar yowled. “ThunderClan are sheltering Brokenstar!”
CHAPTER 19
Shocked and angry caterwauls rose up from the cats surrounding the Great Rock. Every muscle in Fireheart’s body urged him to creep backward into the bushes and hide from their fury. It took all his strength to stay where he was. Sandstorm pressed against his side, as shaken as he was, and he found her warmth comforting.
On top of the Great Rock, Tallstar whipped around to face Bluestar. “Is this true?” he snarled.
Bluestar did not reply to him at once. With great dignity, she stepped forward and faced Nightstar. The moonlight glowed on her fur, turning it to silver, so that Fireheart could almost believe that a warrior of StarClan had leaped down from Silverpelt to join them. She waited until the noise from below had died down. “How do you know this?” she coolly asked Nightstar when she could make herself heard. “Have you been spying on our camp?”
“Spying!” Nightstar spat the word out. “There’s no need to spy when your apprentices gossip so freely. My warriors heard this at the last Gathering. Do you dare to stand here now and tell me they are wrong?”
As he spoke, Fireheart remembered seeing Swiftpaw with the ShadowClan apprentices at the end of the last Gathering. No wonder the young cat had looked guilty, if he had been telling his friends all about ThunderClan’s prisoner, so soon after Bluestar had ordered all her Clan to keep quiet!
Bluestar hesitated. Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for her. Many of her own Clan had been unhappy with her decision to shelter blind Brokentail. How was she going to defend herself in front of the other Clans?
Tallstar crouched in front of her, his ears flattened. “Is it true?” he repeated.
For a moment Bluestar did not speak. Then she lifted her head defiantly. “Yes, it’s true,” she meowed.
“Traitor!” spat Tallstar. “You know what Brokenstar did to us.”
Bluestar’s tail tip twitched; even from his place below the rock Fireheart could see the strain in every muscle of her body, and knew she was struggling to keep calm. “No cat dares to call me traitor!” she hissed.
“I dare,” retorted Tallstar. “You are nothing but a traitor to the warrior code, if you are willing to give shelter to that…that heap of foxdung!”
All around the clearing WindClan cats leaped to their paws, yowling in support of their leader. “Traitor! Traitor!”
At the foot of the Great Rock, Tigerclaw and Deadfoot, the WindClan deputy, faced each other with their hackles raised, lips drawn back to show their sharp teeth, their noses no more than a mouse-length apart.
Fireheart sprang up too, his fighting instinct sending energy to his paws. He caught a glimpse of Willowpelt snarling at the WindClan queens with whom she had been sharing tongues a few moments before. A couple of ShadowClan warriors paced threateningly toward Darkstripe, and Mousefur leaped to his side, ready to attack.
“Stop!” Bluestar yowled from her place on the Great Rock. “How can you break the truce like this? Would you risk the wrath of StarClan?”
As she spoke, the moonlight began to fade. Every cat in the clearing froze. Looking up, Fireheart saw a wisp of cloud passing over the face of the moon. He shivered. Was that a warning from StarClan, because the Clans seemed about to break the sacred truce? Clouds had covered the moon once before, a sign of StarClan’s anger that had brought the Gathering to an end.
As the cloud passed away the moonlight strengthened again. The moment of crisis had passed. Most of the cats sat down, though they continued to glare at one another. Whitestorm pushed himself between Deadfoot and Tigerclaw, and started to mew urgently into the ThunderClan deputy’s ear.
On the top of the Great Rock, Crookedstar stepped forward to stand beside Bluestar. He looked calm; Fireheart realized that of all the Clans, RiverClan had least reason to hate Brokentail. He had not crossed the river into their territory, or stolen their kits.
“Bluestar,” he meowed, “tell us why you have done this.”
“Brokentail is blind,” Bluestar replied, her voice ringing out so that every cat in the clearing could hear her. “He is an old, defeated cat. He is no danger, not anymore. Would you have him starve to death in the forest?”
“Yes!” Nightstar’s voice rose, shrill and insistent. “No death is too cruel for him!” Flecks of foam spun from the ShadowClan leader’s lips. He thrust his head aggressively toward Tallstar and snarled, “Will you forgive the cat who drove you out?”
For a moment Fireheart wondered why Nightstar should be so frantic, so intent on whipping up Tallstar’s hatred like this. He was Clan leader now. What harm could a blind prisoner do him?
Tallstar flinched away from the ShadowClan leader, clearly taken aback by his fury. “You know how much this means to my Clan,” he meowed. “We will never forgive Brokenstar.”
“Then I tell you, you’re wrong,” meowed Bluestar. “The warrior code tells us to show compassion. Tallstar, don’t you remember what ThunderClan did for you when you were defeated and driven out? We found you and brought you home, and later we fought beside you against RiverClan. Have you forgotten what you owe us?”
Far from soothing Tallstar, Bluestar’s words angered the WindClan leader more than ever. He stalked up to her, his fur bristling. “Does ThunderClan claim to own us?” he spat out. “Is that why you brought us back, to bow to your wishes and accept your decisions without question? Do you think WindClan has no honor?”
Bluestar bowed her head in the face of the WindClan leader’s fury. “Tallstar,” she meowed. “You’re right that no Clan can own another. That’s not what I meant. But remember how you felt when you were weak, and try to show compassion now. If we drive Brokentail out to die, we’re no better than he is.”
“Compassion?” spat Nightstar. “Don’t give us tales fit for kits, Bluestar! What compassion did Brokenstar ever show?” Yowls of agreement filled the air as he spoke. Nightstar added, “You must drive him out now, Bluestar, or I’ll want to know the reason why.”
Bluestar’s eyes narrowed to glittering blue slits. “Don’t tell me how to run my Clan!”
“I’ll tell you this,” Nightstar growled. “If ThunderClan keeps on sheltering Brokenstar, you can expect trouble. ShadowClan will see to that.”
“And WindClan,” snarled Tallstar.
For a moment Bluestar was silent. Fireheart knew she knew how dangerous it was to make enemies of two Clans at once, especially when some of her own cats were unhappy with her decision to take care of Brokentail. “ThunderClan does not take orders from other Clans,” she meowed at last. “We do what we think is right.”
“Right?” Nightstar jeered. “To shelter that bloodthirsty—”
“Enough!” Bluestar interrupted. “No more argument. There’s other business to discuss at this Gathering, or had you forgotten?”
Nightstar and Tallstar exchanged a glance, and while they hesitated Crookedstar stepped forward to report on the floods and the damage done to the RiverClan camp. They let him speak, though Fireheart didn’t think that many cats were listening. The hollow was buzzing with shocked speculation about Brokentail.
Sandstorm pressed closer to Fireheart and mewed in his ear, “I knew there’d be trouble over Brokentail, as soon as Nightstar started to speak.”
“I know,” Fireheart replied. “But Bluestar can’t send him away now. It would look as if she were giving in. No cat would respect her after that, not from ThunderClan or any Clan.”
Sandstorm gave a low purr of agreement. Fireheart tried to concentrate on the rest of the Gathering, but it was difficult. He couldn’t help being aware of the hostile glares on all sides from the cats of WindClan and ShadowClan, and he wished the Gathering were over.
It seemed a long time before the moon began to sink and cats began to divide into their patrols for the journey home. In silent accord, the ThunderClan warriors bounded up to Bluestar as soon as she left the Great Rock and made a protective circle around her. Fireheart guessed they were all as uncertain as he was that the truce would hold.