by Erin Hunter
As the warriors formed up around Bluestar, Fireheart caught sight of Onewhisker, slipping past on his way to join a group of WindClan cats. Their eyes met, and Onewhisker paused. “I’m sorry about this, Fireheart,” he meowed softly. “I haven’t forgotten how you brought us home.”
“Thanks, Onewhisker,” Fireheart replied. “I wish—”
He broke off as Tigerclaw pushed his way into the circle of cats, glaring at them and baring his teeth at Onewhisker, who backed away toward the WindClan cats. Fireheart braced himself for a rebuke, but the deputy stalked straight past him.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” Tigerclaw snarled at Bluestar as he took his place beside her. “Now two Clans are yowling for our blood. We should have thrown out that piece of vermin long ago.”
Fireheart couldn’t help feeling surprised by Tigerclaw’s hostility toward the ThunderClan prisoner. Not long before, he had seen Tigerclaw sharing tongues with Brokentail, as if the deputy were reconciled to the cat staying in the Clan. But maybe it wasn’t so surprising that he had been ruffled—as they all had—by the clash with WindClan and ShadowClan.
“Tigerclaw, this is no place to argue among ourselves,” Bluestar told him quietly. “When we get back to camp—”
“And how do you intend to get back?” It was Nightstar who interrupted, pushing his way past the ThunderClan warriors. “Not the way you came, I hope. If you set one paw on ShadowClan territory, we’ll rip you to pieces.” He turned and slipped away into the shadows without waiting for a reply.
For a moment Bluestar looked confused. There was no other way back to the ThunderClan camp, Fireheart knew, unless they tried to swim the stream. He shivered at the thought of the fierce current that had almost cost him his life. Would they have to stay at Fourtrees until the floodwater went down? Then he caught the scent of RiverClan, and turned to see Crookedstar approaching with some of his warriors.
“I heard that,” the pale tabby tom addressed Bluestar. “Nightstar is wrong. At a time like this, all cats should help one another.” He glanced at Fireheart as he spoke, and Fireheart guessed he was remembering how Fireheart and Graystripe had helped RiverClan by sharing prey. But none of the ThunderClan cats here, except for Bluestar, knew anything about that, and Fireheart heard some uneasy murmurings from the warriors around him.
“I can offer you a way home,” Crookedstar continued. “To get here, we crossed the river by the Twoleg bridge. If you go that way, you can travel through our territory and cross back lower down—there’s a dead tree caught up by the stepping-stones.”
Before Bluestar could speak, Tigerclaw hissed, “And why should we trust RiverClan?”
Crookedstar ignored him, his amber eyes on Bluestar as he waited for her response. She dipped her head respectfully. “Thank you, Crookedstar. We accept your offer.”
The RiverClan leader nodded briefly and turned to escort her out of the clearing. There was still some muttering among the ThunderClan cats as Bluestar led her warriors through the bushes and up the slope out of the hollow. Cats from ShadowClan and WindClan hissed at them, even though RiverClan warriors flanked them protectively on both sides. Fireheart realized with a jolt that the divisions within the forest had shifted in the space of a single Gathering.
He was relieved when they reached the top of the slope and left the hostile Gathering behind them. He noticed Graystripe trying to edge his way closer to Silverstream, but another of the RiverClan queens was in his way, giving Silverstream a lick from time to time.
“You’re sure you’re not tired?” the queen fussed. “It’s a long journey when you’re expecting kits.”
“No, Greenflower, I’m fine,” Silverstream replied patiently, casting a frustrated glance at Graystripe over her friend’s head.
Tigerclaw brought up the rear of the ThunderClan patrol, swinging his huge head aggressively from side to side as if he expected the RiverClan cats to attack at any moment.
Bluestar, on the other hand, seemed to be quite at ease traveling with the other Clan. Once they were away from Fourtrees she let Crookedstar take the lead, while she dropped back to join Mistyfoot. “I hear you have kits,” she meowed, her voice level. “Are they well?”
Mistyfoot looked slightly surprised to be addressed by the ThunderClan leader. “Two…two of them were swept away in the river,” she stammered. “Fireheart and Graystripe saved them.”
“I’m sorry. You must have been frightened for them,” Bluestar murmured, her blue eyes soft with sympathy. “I’m glad ThunderClan warriors were able to help. Did your kits recover?”
“Yes, they’re fine now, Bluestar.” Mistyfoot still seemed bewildered at being questioned so closely by the ThunderClan leader. “They’re all fine. They’ll be apprentices soon.”
“And I’m sure they’ll make fine warriors,” Bluestar mewed warmly.
Watching his leader and the RiverClan queen walking step for step, Fireheart couldn’t help thinking how their blue-gray fur shone almost identically in the moonlight. They had the same neat, compact bodies, and when they had to leap over a log that lay in their path they both flexed their limbs with the same economical ripple of muscles. Stonefur, coming up behind, was a copy of his sister, with a silver sheen to his coat and an enviable deftness of movement.
If cats from different Clans could look so alike, Fireheart wondered, why couldn’t they think alike too? Why did there have to be so much quarreling between them? Uncomfortably he remembered the antagonism shown toward his Clan by ShadowClan and WindClan, and their bitterness over Bluestar’s defense of Brokentail. As he padded toward the bridge, alert for the scent of Twolegs, Fireheart felt the cold winds of war beginning to sweep over the forest.
On the second dawn after the Gathering, Fireheart woke in the warriors’ den to find that Graystripe had already left. The hollow in the moss where his friend had been sleeping was quite cold.
Gone to meet Silverstream, Fireheart thought with a sigh of resignation. It was hardly surprising, now that Graystripe knew she was going to have his kits, but it meant that Fireheart would have to cover for his absence again.
Yawning widely, Fireheart pushed his way through the outer branches of the bush, and shook moss from his coat while he looked around the clearing. The sun was beginning to edge its way above the bracken wall, casting long shadows over the bare ground. The sky was pure, cloudless, and blue. Birdsong all around held the promise of easy prey.
“Hey, Brackenpaw!” Fireheart called to the apprentice, who sat blinking at the entrance to his den. “Do you want to go hunting?”
Brackenpaw leaped to his paws and raced across the clearing to Fireheart. “Now?” he asked, delight shining in his eyes.
“Yes, now,” meowed Fireheart, suddenly sharing the young cat’s eagerness. “I could do with a nice fresh mouse, couldn’t you?”
Brackenpaw fell in behind him as they headed for the gorse tunnel. He hadn’t even asked where Graystripe was, Fireheart realized. Graystripe had never taken his duties as mentor seriously, he thought with a pang of worry. He had been more interested in Silverstream right from the start. Meanwhile, Fireheart himself had more or less taken over Brackenpaw’s training. He enjoyed it, and he liked the serious-minded ginger tom, but he was troubled that loyalty to the Clan didn’t mean more to Graystripe.
He put these thoughts aside as he led Brackenpaw up the ravine, avoiding the muddy streambed where the floodwater was drying up. It was hard to be sad or anxious on a bright, warm day like this. With the floods receding more and more every day, there was no longer any danger that ThunderClan would be driven out of their camp by rising water.
At the top of the ravine, Fireheart paused. “Okay, Brackenpaw,” he meowed. “Have a good sniff. What can you smell?”
Brackenpaw stood with his head erect, his eyes closed, and his jaws parted to drink in the breeze. “Mouse,” he mewed at last. “Rabbit, and blackbird, and…some other bird I don’t know.”
“That’s woodpecker,” Fireheart told him. �
�Anything else?”
Brackenpaw concentrated, and his eyes snapped open in alarm. “Fox!”
“Fresh?”
The apprentice sniffed again and then relaxed, looking a bit ashamed of himself. “No, stale. Two or three days old, I think.”
“Good, Brackenpaw. Now, you head that way, as far as the two old oaks, and I’ll go this way.” He watched Brackenpaw for a few moments as the apprentice moved slowly into the shadow of the trees, stopping every few paces to taste the air. A flutter of wings under a bush distracted Fireheart; turning his head he saw a thrush, flapping to keep its balance as it tugged a worm out of the soil.
Fireheart crouched down and crept toward it paw by paw. The thrush pulled the worm free and started to tuck in; Fireheart bunched his muscles for the pounce.
“Fireheart! Fireheart!”
Brackenpaw’s frantic meow split the silence. His paws crunched on dead leaves as he tore through the trees toward Fireheart. Though Fireheart hurled himself at the thrush it had been given too much warning. It flew up to a low branch, squawking in panic, while Fireheart’s paws thudded onto the empty ground.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Fireheart swung around angrily to face the apprentice. “I’d have caught that thrush, and now listen to it! Every bit of prey in the forest will—”
“Fireheart!” Brackenpaw gasped out, skidding to a halt in front of him. “They’re coming! I could smell them; then I saw them!”
“Smell who? Who’s coming?”
Brackenpaw’s eyes were round with fear. “ShadowClan and WindClan!” he meowed. “They’re coming to invade our camp!”
CHAPTER 20
“Where? How many warriors?” Fireheart demanded.
“Over there.” Brackenpaw flicked his tail toward the deeper forest. “I don’t know how many. They’re creeping through the undergrowth.”
“Okay.” Fireheart thought quickly, trying to ignore the sudden thumping of his heart. “Go back to camp. Warn Bluestar and Tigerclaw. We need some warriors out here right now.”
“Yes, Fireheart.” Brackenpaw spun around and raced off down the ravine.
As soon as he had gone, Fireheart headed into the forest, prowling with new caution beneath the arching ferns. At first all seemed quiet, though it wasn’t long before he picked up the rank scent of many intruding cats—the scents of WindClan and ShadowClan.
Somewhere ahead, a bird sounded a stuttering alarm call. Fireheart took cover behind a tree. He could still see nothing. His fur prickled with anticipation.
He bunched his hindquarters and sprang, clawing his way up the trunk of the tree until he could scramble onto a low branch. Crouching there, he peered down through the leaves.
The forest floor seemed empty, with not even a beetle stirring. Then Fireheart caught sight of a fern quivering. Something flashed white and was gone. Moments later a dark head poked out of the undergrowth below the tree. Fireheart recognized Nightstar.
A soft mew came from him. “Follow me!”
The ShadowClan leader emerged from the bracken and raced across a stretch of open ground. A band of cats streamed after him; Fireheart grew even more tense when he saw how many. Warriors from WindClan and ShadowClan bore down on his camp together; Fireheart saw Tallstar and Cinderfur, Deadfoot and Stumpytail, Wetfoot and Onewhisker, running side by side as if they were littermates.
Not long ago, these cats had been fighting each other in the snowbound WindClan camp. Now they were united in their hatred of Brokentail and of ThunderClan for sheltering him.
Fireheart knew he would have to fight them. Even though he thought of the WindClan warriors as his friends, he would have to stand by his leader and his own Clan.
As Fireheart braced himself to spring down, he heard a single furious caterwaul from the direction of the camp, and recognized Tigerclaw’s voice summoning the warriors to battle. For all his distrust of the deputy, Fireheart couldn’t help feeling relieved. Right now, ThunderClan needed all of Tigerclaw’s fierce courage and fighting skills.
Fireheart scrambled down the tree, hit the ground with all four paws, and streaked toward the battle, no longer trying to hide from the invaders. When he broke out of the trees, he saw that the open ground at the top of the ravine was covered with a mass of writhing, spitting cats. Tigerclaw and Nightstar wrestled together, clawing furiously. Darkstripe had pinned down a WindClan warrior. Mousefur flung herself, screeching in fury, on top of Cinderfur. Morningflower, a WindClan queen, raked her claws down Longtail’s flank and sent him howling back down the slope.
Fireheart sprang at Morningflower, anger pounding through his veins. He couldn’t help remembering how he had helped this same queen carry her kit on the way back to WindClan’s camp after Brokenstar had driven out her Clan. She leaped around as Fireheart landed beside her, and pulled back just as she was about to swipe him with her claws. For a few heartbeats both cats stared at each other. Morningflower’s eyes were filled with sorrow, and Fireheart could see that she too remembered what they had endured together. He could not bring himself to strike her, and after a moment she backed away from him and disappeared into the heaving mass of cats.
Before he could draw breath, a cat slammed into Fireheart from behind, knocking him onto the damp ground. He scrabbled vainly to get up. Twisting his neck, he gazed up into the fierce eyes of the ShadowClan warrior Stumpytail; a heartbeat later the ShadowClan warrior’s teeth sank into his shoulder. Letting out a yowl of pain, Fireheart battered at Stumpytail’s belly with his back legs, clawing out great clumps of his brown tabby fur. Stumpytail’s blood spattered him as the ShadowClan warrior reared back in agony and was gone.
Fireheart scrambled up and looked around, panting. The fiercest fighting had shifted to the bottom of the ravine. The enemy cats were pushing forward, clearly determined to invade the camp. The outnumbered ThunderClan warriors were unable to keep them back. And where was Bluestar?
Then Fireheart saw her. With Whitestorm and Dustpelt, she crouched at the entrance to the gorse tunnel, ready to bar the way with her life. Already Onewhisker and Wetfoot had broken through Tigerclaw’s defense, and as Fireheart stared, horrified, Wetfoot flung himself at Bluestar.
Fireheart raced along the top of the ravine. Out of the whole of ThunderClan, only he and Yellowfang knew that Bluestar was on the last of her nine lives. If she died in this battle, ThunderClan would be without a leader—or worse, would be left to the control of Tigerclaw.
When he was above the tunnel entrance, Fireheart plunged straight down the slope, his paws barely touching the treacherously steep rocks, to land, skidding, in the thick of the fight. His teeth tore into Wetfoot’s neck, dragging the warrior off Bluestar. The ThunderClan leader slashed her claws at the gray tabby tom until he scrabbled backward and fled.
A wave of fighting cats bore down on Fireheart and the other cats by the gorse tunnel. Fireheart bit and scratched instinctively without knowing which cat he was fighting. Sharp claws slashed his forehead and blood began trickling into his eyes. He took a gasping breath, feeling as if he were about to suffocate in the rank scent of his enemies.
Then he heard Bluestar meowing close to his ear. “They’re pushing through the wall! Fall back—defend the camp!”
Fireheart scrabbled to keep on his paws as the invaders carried the battle into the tunnel itself. The gorse tore at his fur like hostile claws. It was impossible to fight here, so he turned along his own length and struggled through the gorse into the camp.
In the clearing, Willowpelt, Runningwind, and Sandstorm had rushed to guard the nursery, ready to protect the nursing queens and their kits. Longtail, hastily licking his wounds, stood outside Brokentail’s den with Brackenpaw beside him. Among the branches of the fallen tree, Fireheart could just make out the dark tabby fur and sightless eyes of the former ShadowClan leader. He couldn’t help feeling a pang of frustration that they were being attacked for the sake of this cruel and murderous cat.
Nightstar and Onewhisker were the first to
break out of the tunnel, streaking across the open ground toward Brokentail’s den. Tallstar pushed his way through the thorny hedge and joined them. More of the invaders followed.
“Stop them!” Fireheart yowled, rallying the Clan warriors as he raced across the clearing. “They want Brokentail!” He threw himself on Nightstar, rolling the black tom over on the dusty ground. He couldn’t help wondering how many ThunderClan cats really wanted to defend the former ShadowClan leader. Many of them would no doubt be happy to hand him over to the other Clans. But Fireheart also felt sure that they would stay loyal; whatever they felt in their hearts, they would fight for ThunderClan.
He pinned Nightstar down, his teeth buried in the leader’s bony shoulder. Nightstar writhed under him and then heaved upward. Fireheart lost his balance and suddenly found that he was trapped—the warrior, though old, was still ferociously strong.
Nightstar bared his fangs, his eyes gleaming. All of a sudden he reared back, letting Fireheart go. Shaking blood from his eyes, Fireheart saw that Brackenpaw had leaped at the ShadowClan leader and was clinging to his back with all four paws. Nightstar tried vainly to shake him off and then rolled over, crushing Brackenpaw against the ground. The apprentice let out a furious howl.
Fireheart slashed at Nightstar with claws outstretched, but Tallstar thrust between them, trying to reach Brokentail’s den. To his dismay, Fireheart felt himself being forced backward.
Then Tigerclaw was there. The huge deputy was bleeding from many wounds and his fur was plastered with mud, but his amber eyes still burned with the fire of battle. He swiped a massive paw at Tallstar, bowling him over and sending him scrambling away.
More ThunderClan cats appeared: Whitestorm, Mousefur, Runningwind, and Bluestar herself. The tide of battle turned. The invaders started to retreat, breaking for the tunnel and the gaps in the bracken around the clearing. Fireheart watched, panting, as Onewhisker vanished at the tail end of the fleeing invaders. The battle was over.