by Erin Hunter
“All except Morningflower’s kit,” replied a mottled brown warrior. “He is too young.”
“Then we must take turns carrying him,” answered Tallstar.
The WindClan cats shuffled forward, their eyes dull with pain and exhaustion. A tortoiseshell queen was holding a tiny kit gently by the scruff of its neck. The little creature’s eyes were hardly open.
“Ready?” called Tallstar.
A black tom with a misshapen paw looked around the Clan and answered for them. “Ready,” he meowed.
Fireheart and Graystripe turned and made their way back to the tunnel entrance and waited while the WindClan cats emerged blinking into the daylight. Some of the elders blinked so long, their faces screwed up against the weak sun, that Fireheart guessed they had not been outside the tunnel for some time. Tallstar padded out of the tunnel last of all and walked to the head of his Clan.
“Shall we take you back the way we came?” Fireheart asked him. “I believe it’s a shortcut.”
“Is it safe?” asked Tallstar. Fireheart saw the hunted look once more in the leader’s eyes.
“We met no trouble coming here,” Graystripe meowed.
Tallstar flicked his tail decisively, as though he were brushing away any doubt. “Good,” he declared. “You come with me, Graystripe. Show me the way. Fireheart, travel beside the Clan. Tell my deputy if you see trouble.”
“Which one is he?” asked Fireheart.
Tallstar nodded toward the black tom. “Deadfoot,” he meowed. The warrior turned at the sound of his name and pricked his ears.
Fireheart dipped his head in greeting. He left Graystripe with Tallstar and joined the other cats.
As the Clan made their way under the Thunderpath arch, Fireheart could still smell the fire, but when they padded out onto the patch of wasteland, the Twolegs were nowhere to be seen. Graystripe headed straight for the tunnel where he and Fireheart had spent the night. Tallstar entered first, while Fireheart waited at the back until all the Clan had disappeared inside. Only Deadfoot remained.
“Are you sure it leads to daylight?” the black tom meowed warily.
“It just leads under the Thunderpath. Have you never used this tunnel?” Fireheart asked, surprised.
“When our warriors cross the Thunderpath, they prefer to see where they’re heading,” growled Deadfoot. Fireheart nodded, and the deputy added, “You go first.”
Fireheart padded down into the dark hole. He emerged to find the WindClan cats staring across the field that led to the final Thunderpath. Fireheart saw Tallstar consult briefly with Graystripe before they set off into the long, frost-crisp grass. Fireheart walked with the rest of the Clan, flanking one side while Deadfoot limped steadily on the other.
Before they were halfway across the field, it was clear that many of the cats were having trouble keeping up the pace. “Tallstar!” yowled Deadfoot. “We need to travel more slowly!”
Fireheart looked over his shoulder and saw some of the cats falling farther and farther behind. Morningflower was among them, the kit swinging from her mouth. Fireheart bounded over to her. She was panting heavily. It couldn’t have been long since her kitting.
“Let me carry him,” Fireheart offered. “Just until you have caught your breath.”
Morningflower glanced warily at Fireheart, but her eyes softened when they met his. She put her kit down, and Fireheart took it gently and walked next to her so that she didn’t lose sight of her precious bundle.
Tallstar slowed the pace, but only a little. In spite of his obvious exhaustion, and the fact that every rib showed under his fur, he burned with a fierce energy that lent swiftness to his paws.
Fireheart could understand part of the reason for his urgency. The sun was steadily climbing above the horizon. Some of the WindClan cats were sick, some old, and all of them were weak from hunger. If they were going to cross the Thunderpath without losing any cats, they would have to do it quickly, before the monsters came in their swarms.
By the time Fireheart and Morningflower arrived at the hedge, WindClan was gathered around its leader.
“We cross the Thunderpath here,” Tallstar announced above the noise of a monster racing past. The WindClan leader squeezed under the hedge. Deadfoot, Graystripe, and a younger warrior followed him.
Morningflower leaned toward Fireheart and took hold of her kit. She had stopped panting now, and as she took the kit from Fireheart she brushed her cheek gratefully against his. He dipped his head to the tortoiseshell queen and followed Graystripe under the hedge.
Tallstar and Deadfoot sat staring wordlessly at the wide gray path. Graystripe stood beside them. He flicked his tail toward the younger warrior. “This is Onewhisker,” he told Fireheart.
A monster sped past, almost drowning out Graystripe’s words and whipping up stinging dust.
Through streaming eyes, Fireheart mewed a greeting to Onewhisker and turned his attention to the Thunderpath. “We should try to get the Clan over in small groups,” he meowed. “Graystripe and I will stay with any that need help.” He looked at the Clan leader. “If you agree, Tallstar,” he added.
Tallstar nodded. “The strongest group will go first,” he meowed.
The other WindClan cats began to appear through the hedge. Before long the whole Clan was clustered beside them, pressed against the sharp twigs, as far back from the Thunderpath as possible.
Fireheart and Graystripe moved to the edge, watching for a break in the line of monsters. The Thunderpath was much busier than it had been when they’d crossed last night.
Onewhisker led the first group forward.
“Do you want us to cross with you?” Fireheart offered. He could smell the young tom’s fear. The mottled brown tabby shook his head. The cats beside him peered along the Thunderpath first one way, then the other. All was quiet, and the group dashed safely over to the other side.
Two warriors came next, accompanied by a pair of skinny elders. “Now!” Fireheart ordered as a monster flashed safely past.
The four WindClan cats stepped out onto the empty Thunderpath. The elders winced as they padded across on paws raw from the damp tunnel. Fireheart willed them on breathlessly as they neared the other side. A monster was zooming toward them.
“Look out!” Graystripe yowled, and even the two elders bounded forward, fur bristling, and hurled themselves onto the other side a heartbeat before the monster raced past.
Two larger groups crossed, leaving just one more. Only once they were safely over would Tallstar and Deadfoot cross. Morningflower and her kit stepped up to Fireheart’s side. Behind her trembled three very elderly cats.
“We’ll cross with you,” Fireheart meowed. He looked at Graystripe, who nodded. “Tell us when it’s safe to go, Graystripe.” Fireheart leaned forward to take Morningflower’s kit, but she pulled back, her ears flat. Fireheart looked deep into her frightened amber eyes and understood. She and her kit would live or die together.
“Now!” At Graystripe’s yowl, Fireheart and Morningflower stepped out onto the Thunderpath. The elders crept out behind them with Graystripe beside them. Time seemed to stand still as the elders hobbled slowly forward on stiff, battle-scarred legs. If a monster comes now, we’re all fresh-kill, Fireheart thought. The other side was still several rabbit leaps away.
“Come on,” urged Graystripe. The elders tried to hurry, but one stumbled, and Graystripe had to nose him back onto his paws.
Fireheart heard the distant roar of a monster. “Go on ahead!” he hissed to Morningflower. “We’ll bring the elders.”
Morningflower stumbled forward. Her kit squealed as it bumped against the hard ground. Fireheart and Graystripe pressed themselves against the elders’ scrawny bodies, nudging them forward. The noise of the approaching monster grew louder and louder.
Fireheart grabbed the nearest elder by the scruff of the neck and dragged him forward, before turning to haul the second closer to the verge. The monster raced closer.
Fireheart closed his eyes
and braced himself.
There was a screech and an acrid smell that stung his throat, then a fading roar as the monster sped away. Fireheart opened his eyes and looked around. Graystripe was crouching in the middle of the Thunderpath, unscathed, but staring with eyes as wide as full moons. One elder cowered between them; the other two trembled near the verge. The monster was hurtling away from them, swerving across the Thunderpath. Thank StarClan! It had missed them all.
Fireheart took a shuddering breath. “Come on,” he meowed to the last elder. “Almost there.”
Tallstar bounded across with Deadfoot and gathered his trembling Clan around him on the verge.
Onewhisker touched Fireheart’s nose with his own. “You would have died for us,” he murmured. “WindClan will never forget that.”
Tallstar’s voice sounded behind them. “Onewhisker is right; we shall honor you both in our stories. We must keep going,” he continued. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
As the cats prepared to move off, Fireheart padded over to Morningflower. She was busy licking her kit.
“Is he all right?” Fireheart asked.
“Oh, yes,” answered Morningflower.
“What about you?” asked Fireheart.
Morningflower didn’t answer.
Fireheart turned to a gray queen, who answered his unspoken question. “Don’t worry,” she meowed. “I’ll take the kit next.”
The Clan followed the hedgerow along the Thunderpath before turning away to join the track through the woods. The scents here seemed to soothe the WindClan cats, but the journey had taken its toll; they were traveling slower than ever. And when they reached the fence at the far side, it took all Fireheart’s strength to help the weakest cats over.
The sun had passed its highest point by the time Fireheart spotted the Twolegplace in the distance. He sniffed the air hopefully but there was still no scent of Ravenpaw. Fireheart felt a stab of grief, and tried to ignore the nagging thought that he should never have sent his friend here alone.
Clouds billowed up over Highstones, growing blacker as they covered the sinking sun. A cold wind ruffled the cats’ fur, bringing the first drops of rain.
Fireheart looked at the WindClan cats. There was no way they could travel through a long, wet night. He was tired too, and, for the first time since he’d eaten Yellowfang’s herbs, he was feeling the effects of hunger. A glance at Graystripe told him that his friend felt the same way. The big gray warrior’s tail drooped, and his ears were flattened against the spattering rain.
“Tallstar,” Fireheart called. “Perhaps we should stop soon and shelter for the night.”
The WindClan leader stopped and waited while Fireheart caught up with him. “I agree,” he meowed. “There’s a ditch here; we can shelter in that until sunrise.”
Graystripe and Fireheart exchanged glances. “We might be better sheltering in the hedgerow,” Fireheart suggested. “There are rats in these ditches.”
Tallstar nodded. “Very well.” He turned to his Clan and announced that they would be spending the night here. The queens and elders flopped down at once, despite the rain, while the warriors and apprentices gathered to discuss hunting patrols.
Fireheart and Graystripe joined them. “I don’t know how good the hunting will be here,” Fireheart meowed. “There are too many Twolegs.”
Graystripe’s stomach growled as if in agreement. The other warriors turned to him with amused but sympathetic eyes. Then they froze as the grass behind them rustled. The WindClan warriors bristled and arched their backs, unsheathing sharp claws, but Fireheart and Graystripe turned their heads joyfully. The wind carried a scent as familiar as their own den.
“Ravenpaw!” Fireheart gasped as a sleek black cat emerged from the long grass.
Fireheart raced over to his old friend and nuzzled him. “Thank StarClan you’re safe!” he purred. He stepped back and studied Ravenpaw in surprise. What had happened to the skinny, scared black apprentice? This cat was plump and sleek, and his fur, usually so dull before, now shed the rain like a holly leaf.
“Firepaw!” Ravenpaw meowed in delight.
“Fireheart,” Graystripe corrected him. He stepped forward and touched noses with the black cat. “We’re warriors now! I’m Graystripe.”
“Do you know this cat?” snarled Deadfoot.
The hostility in his voice made Fireheart flinch. He looked at the bristling WindClan cats and silently cursed himself for calling Ravenpaw’s name out loud. He just hoped Tallstar’s warriors had been too distracted to hear it. If WindClan mentioned it at a Gathering, it would spread through the Clans like a forest fire. Ravenpaw was supposed to be dead!
“Is he a loner?” asked Onewhisker.
“He can help us find food,” Fireheart meowed quickly, glancing at Ravenpaw.
The black cat nodded. “I know all the best places to hunt around here!” he meowed. His fur didn’t even bristle beneath so many hostile gazes. How much he has changed! Fireheart thought.
“Why would a loner help us?” demanded Deadfoot.
“Loners have helped us before,” Graystripe told him. “Another loner once saved us from a rat attack near here.”
Ravenpaw stepped forward and bent his head respectfully as he addressed the WindClan warriors. “Let me help you! I owe my life to Fireheart and Graystripe, and if they’re traveling with you, then you must be friends.” He lifted his eyes and let his gaze rest on the WindClan cats. They returned his stare, more weary now than hostile. The rain was falling harder and, with their fur bedraggled, they looked skinnier than ever.
“I’ll go and find Barley,” Ravenpaw meowed. “He will help, too.” He turned and disappeared through the long grass.
Tallstar’s eyes burned with curiosity, but all he asked Fireheart was, “Can we trust him?”
Fireheart met Tallstar’s gaze. “Completely.”
Tallstar nodded to his warriors. They let the fur lie flat on their shoulders, and settled down to wait.
Fireheart was almost wet through to his skin when Ravenpaw appeared again. This time Barley was with him. Fireheart greeted the black-and-white loner with a friendly mew. It was good to see him again.
Barley took one look at the dripping cats and meowed, “We need to find you some proper shelter. Follow me!”
Fireheart leaped forward at once, glad to move his stiffening legs. Graystripe was right behind him, but the WindClan cats hung back, fear and suspicion showing in their eyes.
Tallstar blinked at his Clan. “We have to trust him,” he growled, before turning to follow the loner. One by one, the WindClan cats fell in step behind their leader.
Barley and Ravenpaw led them through the hedge into another field. In an overgrown corner, among the brambles and nettles, stood an abandoned Twoleg nest. The walls were full of holes where stones had fallen out, and only half the roof was left.
The WindClan cats stared fearfully at it. “You won’t get me in there!” muttered one of the elders.
“Twolegs never come here now,” Barley reassured them.
“It’ll give us some shelter from the rain,” urged Fireheart.
One of the apprentices whispered loudly, “I’m not surprised he wants to hide in a Twoleg nest—once a kittypet, always a kittypet.”
Fireheart bristled. He hadn’t heard that insult for several moons. But the story that a kittypet had joined a Clan must have made rich gossip at any Gathering. Of course WindClan would know. He whipped around and glared at the apprentice. “You’ve spent two moons living in a Twoleg tunnel. Does that make you a rat?”
The WindClan apprentice drew himself up, ruffling out his fur, but Graystripe stepped between them. “Come on; we’re just getting wetter the longer we stand out here.”
Tallstar meowed, “We’ve faced worse than a Twoleg shelter these past moons. One night here will do us no harm.”
The WindClan cats murmured nervously among themselves, clearly reluctant, but with a glance at Fireheart, Morningflower picked up h
er kit and padded into the Twoleg shelter. The gray queen followed after her, nudging her own kit forward out of the rain. The other cats gradually followed until every cat was inside.
Fireheart looked around the gloomy shelter. The ground was bare except for patches where weeds had burrowed their way under the stone walls. The wind and rain found their way through the gaps in the walls and roof, but it was drier and more sheltered than anywhere outside. He watched the WindClan cats sniffing cautiously around. As they began to settle themselves away from the dripping holes and drafty cracks, he glanced at Graystripe, relieved. Only Tallstar and Deadfoot remained on their paws.
“What about food?” asked Deadfoot.
Barley spoke. “You should all be resting,” he meowed. “Raven–”
Fireheart interrupted him before Barley could finish saying Ravenpaw’s name out loud. “Why don’t you two show me and Graystripe the best places to hunt around here?”
“Deadfoot and Onewhisker will go with you,” meowed Tallstar. Fireheart couldn’t decide if the WindClan leader still didn’t trust these two strangers, or if he was determined to show that his Clan could look after itself.
The six cats ventured back out into the rain. Hunting would be hard, but Fireheart was starving. Hunger always made him a better hunter. Tonight the voles and mice wouldn’t stand a chance. “Just show me where they are!” he meowed to Barley and Ravenpaw.
The two cats led them into a small patch of woodland. Fireheart breathed in a lungful of the familiar scent. Then he dropped into a hunting crouch and began to stalk into the ferns.
When the hunting party returned, each cat carried a mouthful of fresh-kill. The WindClan cats shared a feast with their new allies that night. Every cat from the eldest to the youngest ate their fill, then curled up together to share tongues in mutual grooming, while outside the wind and rain lashed at the walls of the shelter.
As darkness settled in, Barley got to his paws. “I’m off. Rats to catch!” he meowed.
Fireheart stood and touched the loner’s nose with his own. “Thank you again,” he purred. “This is the second time you’ve helped us.”