by Erin Hunter
“Fireheart!” The voice was Cinderpelt’s. She had risen to her paws and was gazing across the hollow to the swell of moorland beyond. This was the WindClan territory that the medicine cats would have to cross to reach Highstones for the ceremony. “Are you and Runningnose going to sit there gossiping all day like a couple of elders?”
Her paws worked impatiently in the grass. Littlecloud was standing beside her, his head raised and his eyes shining eagerly.
“All right,” Runningnose meowed, getting up and going to join them. “We’ve got all day, you know. Highstones isn’t going anywhere.”
The four cats padded around the top of the hollow until they reached the edge of the windswept moor. Cinderpelt paused and touched noses with Fireheart. “I’ll be fine from here,” she meowed. “Thanks for coming this far. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Take care,” Fireheart replied.
He had stood here once before and said good-bye to Cinderpelt when she first went to face the mysteries of the Moonstone. A shiver ran through his fur as he thought of her plunging down through the underground tunnels to the glittering crystal for her silent communion with StarClan. He said nothing more, only gave the gray she-cat’s ear a swift lick in farewell, and stood watching as she limped across the moorland turf with the two ShadowClan cats.
CHAPTER 6
The forest was dark. No moon shone down that night, and when Fireheart looked up he could see nothing but a faint pattern of branches against the sky. The trees looked taller than he remembered, hemming him in. Brambles and ivy tangled around his paws.
“Spottedleaf!” he mewed. “Spottedleaf, where are you?”
There was no answer to his cries, only the rush of water from somewhere ahead of him. He was afraid of stepping forward and finding nothing but black emptiness under his paws as the raging torrent swept him down with it.
In some part of his mind Fireheart knew he was dreaming. He had lain down in the warriors’ den in the hope that he would be able to meet with Spottedleaf in sleep. When Fireheart had first come to ThunderClan, Spottedleaf had been the medicine cat, but she had been killed by one of Brokentail’s vicious followers. Now she visited Fireheart in his dreams, so that once again he could find in her gentle wisdom the answers to much that troubled him.
But now, though he searched more and more desperately in the black forest, he could not find her. “Spottedleaf!” he cried again. This was not the first time in his recent dreams that she had been invisible to him. The last time, he had only heard her voice, and he fought with the terrible fear that she was drawing away from him. “Spottedleaf, don’t leave me!” he begged.
A heavy weight landed on him from behind. Fireheart writhed on the forest floor, trying to free himself. Then the scent of another cat was in his nostrils, and he opened his eyes to find himself scuffling in his mossy bedding with Dustpelt cuffing him around the shoulders.
“What’s the matter with you?” Dustpelt growled. “No cat can get a wink of sleep with you yowling like that.”
“Leave him alone.” Sandstorm put her head up from her nest, blinking sleep from her eyes. “It was only a dream. It’s not his fault.”
“You would say that,” Dustpelt sneered. He turned his back on them and made his way out through the overhanging branches.
Fireheart sat up and began grooming scraps of moss out of his coat. Through the charred branches overhead, he could see that the sun was already up. Whitestorm must have left already with the dawn patrol; there were no other warriors sleeping in the den.
The darkness of his dream was fading, but he could not forget it. Why had the forest seemed so black and terrifying? Why had Spottedleaf not come to him, not even as a scent or the sound of her voice?
“Are you all right?” asked Sandstorm, anxiety showing in her green eyes.
Fireheart shook himself. “I’m fine,” he meowed. “Let’s go and hunt.”
The day was bright, though the chill of leaf-fall was in the air. Fireheart was relieved to see that grass and ferns were growing back thickly as the forest recovered. If only the fine weather would last! Then the growth could continue and prey would return.
He led the way up the ravine and through the forest toward Tallpines. Since the fire, most cats had avoided the stretch of territory closest to Treecutplace, where the devastation was worst. The fire had started there, and whole stretches of the forest had been reduced to nothing but gray ash, dotted with tree stumps. Fireheart wondered if there was a chance of prey there yet, but as he and Sandstorm approached the edge of Tallpines he guessed that he was going to be disappointed.
The pines, charred to tapering trunks, were still a jumble, with fallen trees caught up against others that still stood. The few remaining branches stirred uneasily in the breeze. The ground was black, and no birds sang.
“It’s useless here,” Sandstorm meowed. “Let’s go and—”
She broke off as another cat appeared through the trees, a small tabby-and-white shape stepping nervously over the debris of the fire. With a gasp of surprise Fireheart recognized his sister, Princess.
She spotted him at the same moment and bounded toward him, calling, “Fireheart! Fireheart!”
“Who’s that?” Sandstorm spat. “She’ll scare off all the prey between here and Fourtrees.”
Before Fireheart could reply, his sister came up to him. She was purring as if she would never stop, pressing her face against his and covering him with licks. “Fireheart, you’re alive!” she mewed. “I was so frightened when I saw the fire! I thought you and Cloudpaw were dead.”
“Yes, well, I’m okay,” Fireheart meowed awkwardly, giving Princess a quick lick in return and taking a step back, acutely conscious of Sandstorm’s eyes on him. “And Cloudpaw’s fine too.”
Glancing at Sandstorm, he saw that a look of disgust had appeared on the ginger warrior’s face and her fur was fluffed out. “That’s a kittypet,” she snarled. “She’s got kittypet scent all over her.”
Princess gave her a scared look and edged closer to Fireheart. “Is…is this one of your friends, Fireheart?” she stammered.
“Yes, this is Sandstorm. Sandstorm, this is my sister, Princess, Cloudpaw’s mother.”
Sandstorm took a step or two away from them, though she let the fur lie flat on her neck again. “Cloudpaw’s mother?” she repeated. “She still sees you both, then?” She shot a glance at Fireheart, clearly wondering how much he had told Princess about Cloudpaw’s escapade with the Twolegs.
“Cloudpaw is doing really well,” Fireheart meowed. “Isn’t he?” He met Sandstorm’s gaze, silently willing her not to say anything tactless about the wayward apprentice.
“He hunts well,” Sandstorm admitted. “And he’s got the makings of a fine fighter.”
Princess didn’t realize how much Sandstorm was leaving unsaid. Her eyes glowed with pride and she meowed, “I know he’ll be a good warrior with Fireheart to mentor him.”
“But you haven’t told me what you’re doing out here,” Fireheart mewed, eager to change the subject. “You’re a long way from your Twoleg nest.”
“I was looking for you. I had to know what had happened to you and Cloudpaw,” explained Princess. “I saw the fire from my garden, and then you didn’t come to see me, and I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” Fireheart meowed. “I would have come, but we’ve been so busy since the fire. We have to rebuild the camp, and there’s not much prey left in the forest. And I have more duties since I was made deputy.”
“You’re deputy now? Of the whole Clan? Fireheart, that’s marvelous!”
Fireheart felt hot with embarrassment as Princess gazed at him.
Sandstorm gave a dry little cough. “There’s prey to be caught, Fireheart….”
“Yes, you’re right,” Fireheart mewed. “Princess, you’re very brave to have come so far, but you’d better get home now. The forest can be dangerous if you’re not used to it.”
“Yes, I know, but I—”
Instinctively, Fireheart and Sandstorm crouched beneath a blackened tree trunk, waiting for the monster to pass. Princess merely sat watching it curiously.
“Get down!” Sandstorm hissed at her.
Princess looked puzzled, but she pressed herself obediently to the ground next to Fireheart.
Instead of passing, the monster stopped. The roaring was abruptly cut off. Part of the monster unfolded, and three Twolegs jumped out of its belly.
Fireheart exchanged a glance with Sandstorm and flattened himself even further. Princess might feel at home with the Twolegs and their monster, but they were too close for his liking, and the undergrowth was still not thick enough to provide decent cover. All Fireheart’s instincts were to run, but curiosity kept him pinned to the ground.
The Twolegs wore matching dark blue pelts. They had no Twoleg kits with them, or dogs, unlike most of the Twolegs who came to the forest. They spread out among the burned trees, yowling and stamping so that their paws threw up puffs of dust and ash. Sandstorm lowered her head and stifled a sneeze as one of them passed within a fox-length of where the three cats were crouching.
“What are they doing?” Fireheart murmured.
“Frightening off all the prey,” hissed Sandstorm, spitting out dust. “Honestly, Fireheart, who cares what Twolegs do? They’re all mad.”
“I don’t know….” Fireheart couldn’t help feeling that these Twolegs had a purpose, even if he didn’t understand what it was. The way they pointed with their paws and yowled at each other seemed to suggest they were moving deliberately through the forest.
Another Twolegs stamped past. He had picked up a branch and was using it to poke into hollows and under clumps of charred undergrowth. It almost looked as if he were hunting for prey, except for the noise he was making, which would have scared away the deafest rabbit.
“Do you know what it’s all about?” Fireheart asked Princess.
“I’m not sure,” his sister replied. “I understand a bit of their Twoleg talk, but it’s not words that my housefolk use. I think they’re calling for somebody, but I don’t know who.”
As Fireheart watched, the Twolegs threw the branch down. There was frustration in the movement. He yowled again, and the other Twolegs appeared from the trees. All three of them went back to the monster and climbed into its belly. The roar started up again, and the monster jerked into motion and vanished into the trees.
“Well!” Sandstorm sat up and began licking fastidiously at her ash-stained fur. “Thank StarClan they’ve gone!”
Fireheart got to his paws, keeping his gaze fixed on the place in the trees where the monster had disappeared. The sound had died away and the acrid smell was fading. “I don’t like it,” he meowed.
“Oh, come on, Fireheart!” Sandstorm padded to his side and gave him a nudge. “Why are you bothering about Twolegs? They’re weird, and that’s all there is to it.”
“No, I think they know what they’re doing, even if it looks weird to us,” Fireheart replied. “They usually bring their kits or their dogs to the forest—but these Twolegs didn’t. If Princess is right and they were looking for something, they didn’t find it. I’d like to know what it was.” He paused and then added, “Besides, we don’t normally see Twolegs in this part of the forest. They’re too close to the camp for my liking.”
Sandstorm’s impatient look softened, and she pressed her muzzle reassuringly against his shoulder. “You can tell the patrols to keep a lookout,” she reminded him.
“Yes.” Fireheart nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll do that.”
As he said good-bye to Princess, he struggled to push his growing anxiety out of his mind. Something was going on in the forest that he didn’t understand, and he could not help fearing that it meant danger for his Clan.
Cutting across the corner of Tallpines, Fireheart and Sandstorm made for the river and Sunningrocks. There was no sign of prey anywhere among the scorched trees; the noise made by the Twolegs had seen to that.
“We’ll follow the RiverClan border up toward Fourtrees,” Fireheart decided. “There might be something there worth catching.”
But as they came within sight of Sunningrocks, Fireheart stopped at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. He looked up to see Graystripe poised on top of the nearest rock; the gray warrior scrambled down and bounded over to him.
“Fireheart! I was hoping to catch you.”
“A good thing a patrol didn’t catch you,” Sandstorm growled. “You’re very comfortable in our territory, for a RiverClan warrior.”
“Come off it, Sandstorm,” Graystripe meowed, giving her a good-natured push. “This is me, Graystripe, remember?”
“Only too well,” retorted Sandstorm. She sat down, licked a paw, and started washing her face.
“What’s the problem, Graystripe?” Fireheart asked, worried that his old friend wouldn’t have ventured into ThunderClan territory without good reason.
“It’s not exactly a problem,” replied the gray warrior. “At least, I hope it isn’t. Just something I thought you ought to know.”
“Spit it out, then,” meowed Sandstorm.
Graystripe flicked his tail at her. “Crookedstar had a visitor yesterday,” he told Fireheart. He narrowed his amber eyes. “It was Tigerstar.”
“What? What did he want?” Fireheart stammered.
Graystripe shook his head. “I don’t know. But Crookedstar is very weak now. The whole Clan knows he’s on his last life. Tigerstar spent only a short time with him, but he had a long talk with Leopardfur.”
The mention of the RiverClan deputy increased Fireheart’s fears. What did she and Tigerstar have to say to each other? Visions of an alliance between ShadowClan and RiverClan raced through his mind, with ThunderClan trapped between the two of them. Then he tried to tell himself he was worrying unnecessarily. He had no reason to think that the two cats were planning anything.
“It’s not unknown for leaders to visit each other,” he pointed out. “If Crookedstar is dying, Tigerstar might want to pay his last respects.”
“Maybe.” Graystripe snorted. “But then why spend so much time with Leopardfur? I tried to get close enough to listen, and I heard Tigerstar say something about coming again to our camp.”
“Was that all he said?” Fireheart asked.
“That’s all I heard.” Graystripe ducked his head in embarrassment. “Leopardfur saw me and told me to stay out of her fur.”
“Perhaps Tigerstar’s just getting to know her,” Fireheart guessed. “She’ll be Clan leader, after all, when Crookedstar dies.”
He turned as he heard another cat calling his name, and saw Mistyfoot pulling herself up out of the river.
“Oh, great StarClan!” exclaimed Sandstorm. “Are we going to have all of RiverClan over here?”
“Fireheart!” Mistyfoot panted, shaking off her fur; Sandstorm jumped back crossly as some of the spinning drops spattered against her paws. “Fireheart, have you seen Graypool anywhere?”
“Graypool?” Fireheart echoed, picturing the short-tempered elder whom Mistyfoot believed to be her mother. Fireheart still felt gratitude to the RiverClan queen for telling him the truth about the two ThunderClan kits she had brought up as her own, but he hadn’t seen her for a long time. “What would Graypool be doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Mistyfoot padded up the slope from the river, her face creased with anxiety. “I can’t find her in the camp. She’s so weak and confused these days, I’m afraid she’s wandered off and doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“She won’t be here,” Graystripe objected. “She’s not strong enough to swim the river.”
“Then where has she gone?” Mistyfoot’s voice rose into a wail. “I’ve looked in all the places I can think
of near the camp, and she isn’t there. Besides, the river’s low just now, and it’s not too hard to swim across.”
Fireheart thought rapidly. If Graypool had somehow crossed the river into ThunderClan territory, she would need to be tracked down as soon as possible. His Clan mates were scared enough already of an invasion. He didn’t like to imagine what would happen if an aggressive cat like Darkstripe found her first.
“Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll follow the border up to Fourtrees to see if she’s gone that way. Sandstorm, you go back to camp. Tell the others what’s happened, and warn them not to attack Graypool if they see her.”
Sandstorm rolled her eyes. “All right,” she mewed as she got to her paws. “I’ll hunt on the way back, though. It’s time someone caught some fresh-kill for the Clan.” With her tail high she stalked off into the trees.
Mistyfoot dipped her head gratefully toward Fireheart. “Thank you,” she meowed. “I won’t forget this. And Fireheart—if you need to cross onto RiverClan territory to bring Graypool home, you can tell any cat who sees you that I gave you permission.”
Fireheart nodded his thanks. He could just imagine what would happen if he were caught on the wrong side of the border by a RiverClan patrol with Leopardfur at its head.
“Come on, Mistyfoot,” Graystripe meowed encouragingly. “I’ll swim back with you. We’ll check the camp again.”
“Thanks, Graystripe.” Mistyfoot pressed her nose briefly to the gray warrior’s fur, and both RiverClan cats bounded down the bank toward the river.
Graystripe glanced back swiftly to yowl good-bye, then launched himself into the water behind Mistyfoot. Fireheart watched them swimming strongly for the far bank before heading upstream toward Fourtrees.
He followed the border, renewing the scent markings as he went, until he was not far from Fourtrees. He found it hard to believe that the fragile elder could have made it this far. But then, looking down a rocky slope toward the river, he caught sight of a skinny gray shape limping slowly over the Twoleg bridge that crossed the river on the route that RiverClan cats took to Fourtrees.