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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:50:32 GMT -5
CHAPTER 14
The cold air chilled Firepaw’s bones as blackness wrapped itself around him. He could hear nothing, and his
nostrils were filled with the musty scent of damp earth.
Out of nowhere, a brilliant ball of light flared in front of him. Firepaw ducked his head, screwing up his
eyes against the glare. The light shone, dazzling coldly like a star; then it blinked out, disappearing as quickly
as it had come. The darkness fell away, and Firepaw found himself in the forest. He felt comforted by the
familiar smells of the woods. He breathed in the moist green scents, and calmness flowed through his body.
Without warning, a dreadful noise burst from the trees. Firepaw’s fur bristled. It was the screeching of
terrified cats racing out from the bushes up ahead. Firepaw recognized their ThunderClan pelts as they fled
past him. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Then came great cats, huge dark warriors, their eyes
glittering cruelly. They thundered toward him, pounding the earth with massive paws, their claws unsheathed.
And out of the shadows, Firepaw heard a high, desperate cry filled with grief and rage. Graypaw!
Firepaw woke, horrified. His dream vanished, leaving his ears ringing and his fur standing on end. As he
opened his eyes, he saw the face of Tigerclaw peering into the den. Firepaw leaped to his feet, instantly alert.
“Something wrong, Firepaw?” asked Tigerclaw.
“Just a dream,” Firepaw mumbled.
Tigerclaw gave him a curious look, then growled, “Wake the others. We leave shortly.”
Outside the den, the sky glowed with a new dawn, and dew sparkled on the ferns. It would be a warm
day once the sun was up, but the early-morning dampness reminded Firepaw that the time of leaf-fall was not
far off.
Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw quickly gulped down the herbs that Spottedleaf had given them.
Tigerclaw and Bluestar sat watching them, ready to leave. The rest of the camp was still asleep.
“Ugh!” complained Graypaw. “I knew they’d be bitter. Why couldn’t we eat a fat, juicy mouse
instead?”
“These herbs will keep your hunger at bay longer,” answered Bluestar. “And they will make you strong.
We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Have you eaten yours already?” Firepaw asked.
“I cannot eat if I’m going to share dreams with StarClan at the Moonstone tonight,” replied Bluestar.
Firepaw felt his paws tingle when he heard these words. He was itching to begin the journey. With the
dawn’s light and the familiar voices, the terror of his dream had left him. All that remained was the memory
of the brilliant light, and Bluestar’s words sent a renewed thrill of excitement through him.
The five cats made their way through the gorse tunnel and out of the camp.
Lionheart was just returning with a patrol. “Safe journey,” he meowed.
Bluestar nodded. “I know I can trust you to keep the camp safe,” she answered.
Lionheart looked at Graypaw and dipped his head. “Remember,” he meowed, “you are almost a
warrior. Don’t forget what I have taught you.”
Graypaw looked back at Lionheart with affection. “I will always remember, Lionheart,” he mewed,
nudging his head against the tabby’s broad golden flank.
They retraced their route to Fourtrees. This was the quickest way to pass into WindClan territory.
HighStones lay beyond.
As Firepaw bounded down the side of the glade toward the Great Rock, he could still smell the scents of
last night’s Gathering. He followed the others through the grassy clearing and up the slope on the other side,
into WindClan territory. The bushy slope became steeper as they climbed, and rockier, until the cats had to
leap from boulder to boulder up the side of a craggy cliff face.
Firepaw paused when they reached the top. Ahead of them, the ground flattened out into a wide
plateau. The wind blew in a steady gust that rippled the grass and bent the trees. The soil was stony, and
outcroppings of bare rock dotted the landscape here and there.
The air still carried the scents of WindClan, but they were stale. Much fresher, and more alarming, were
the pungent markings of ShadowClan warriors.
“All Clans are entitled to safe passage to the Moonstone, but ShadowClan seems to have no respect for
the warrior code anymore, so be alert,” warned Bluestar. “We mustn’t hunt outside our territory, though.
We’ll follow the warrior code, even if ShadowClan doesn’t.”
They set off across the plateau as the sun rose into the sky, following the tracks through the heather.
Firepaw had grown used to living under a canopy of trees. Without their shade, his flame-colored pelt felt
heavy and hot, and his back seemed to burn. He was thankful for the steady breeze blowing from the forests
behind.
Suddenly Tigerclaw stopped dead. “Watch out!” he hissed. “I smell a ShadowClan patrol.”
Firepaw and the others lifted their noses, and sure enough, the scent of ShadowClan warriors traveled
on the wind.
“They are upwind. They won’t know we are here if we keep moving,” meowed Bluestar. “But we must
hurry. If they move ahead they’ll detect us. It’s not far to the edge of WindClan territory now.”
They moved on quickly, leaping over the rocks, pushing their way through the sweet-smelling heather.
Every few steps, Firepaw sniffed the air and glanced over his shoulder, on the lookout for the ShadowClan
patrol. But gradually the odor grew fainter and fainter. They must have turned back, he thought with relief.
Finally they reached the edge of the uplands. The landscape changed dramatically, shaped and altered
beyond recognition by Twolegs. Wide earth tracks crisscrossed green and golden meadows, small woods
dotted the land, and Twoleg nests were scattered here and there among the fields. In the distance Firepaw saw
a familiar wide, gray path, and an acid tang that stung his throat drifted on the breeze.
“Is that the Thunderpath?” he asked Graypaw.
“Yes,” replied Graypaw. “It runs up from ShadowClan territory. Can you see HighStones behind it?”
Firepaw looked at the distant horizon. The land rose sharply up to a point, jagged and barren. “Do we
have to cross the Thunderpath then?”
“Yep,” mewed Graypaw. His voice was strong and confident, almost cheerful, as he faced the difficult
journey.
“Come on!” Bluestar meowed. She bounded forward. “We can be there by moonrise as long as we keep
up the pace.”
Firepaw followed her with the others, down the hill, away from the bleak hunting grounds of WindClan
and into the lush Twoleg territory.
Keeping near the hedges, the cats walked on. Once or twice Firepaw could smell prey-scent from the
bushes, but Spottedleaf’s herbs had succeeded in taking the edge off his hunger. The sun was still hot on his
back, even in the shadows of the hedgerows.
They skirted a Twoleg nest. It stood on a wide expanse of hard white stone, with smaller nests round the
edges. Keeping low, the cats crept past the fence that surrounded the white stone. A sudden barrage of
barking and snarling made them spin around.
Dogs! Firepaw’s heart missed a beat. He arched his back, fur bristling from nose to tail.
Tigerclaw peered through the fence. “It’s all right. They’re tied up!” he hissed.
Firepaw looked at the two dogs scrabbling on the stone barely ten tail-lengths away. They were nothing
like the pampered pets that lived in the gardens of the Twolegplace. These creatures stared at him with wild,
killing eyes. They strained at their ties and reared up on their hind legs. They growled and barked, their lips
drawn back to reveal huge teeth, until the shout of an unseen Twoleg silenced them. The cats moved on.
The sun was beginning to sink by the time they reached the Thunderpath. Bluestar signaled to them to
stop and wait beneath a hedge. His eyes and throat stinging from the fumes, Firepaw watched as the great
monsters flashed to and fro in front of him.
“We’ll go one at a time,” meowed Tigerclaw. “Ravenpaw, you first.”
“No, Tigerclaw,” Bluestar interrupted. “I shall go first. Don’t forget, this will be the first time of crossing
for the apprentices. Let them see how it is done.”
Firepaw stared at his leader as she padded to the edge of the Thunderpath and looked up and down. She
waited calmly as one monster after another flew past her, ruffling her fur. Then, when the earsplitting roar
paused for a moment, she raced across to the other side.
“Off you go, Ravenpaw; now you’ve seen how it’s done,” meowed Tigerclaw.
Firepaw saw Ravenpaw’s eyes widen with fear. He knew just how his friend felt. He could smell his
own fear-scent. The small black cat crept forward to the edge of the road. It was quiet, but Ravenpaw
hesitated.
“Go!” hissed Tigerclaw from the hedge. Firepaw saw Ravenpaw’s muscles tighten as he prepared to
run. Then the ground began to tremble beneath his paws. A monster sped out of the distance and hurtled past.
The black cat shrank back for a moment, then pelted over to join Bluestar. A monster coming in the other
direction threw dust up where his paws had been just a heartbeat before. Firepaw felt his fur shiver and he
took a deep breath to calm himself.
Graypaw was lucky. A long lull let him cross safely. Then it was Firepaw’s turn.
“Go on, then,” growled Tigerclaw. Firepaw looked from Tigerclaw to the Thunderpath, and then walked
out from beneath the hedge. He waited at the edge, as Bluestar had done. A monster was rushing toward him.
Firepaw looked at the approaching monster. After this one, he thought, and waited for it to pass. Suddenly his
heart lurched as he realized the monster had veered off the Thunderpath and was bumping along the grass. It
was heading straight for him! A Twoleg was jeering from an opening in its side. Firepaw leaped backward,
claws out, battered by the storm of wind from the Twoleg monster as it roared past him only a whisker away.
He crouched, trembling, in the dirt and stared as it swerved back onto the path and disappeared into the
distance. Through the roaring of blood in his ears, Firepaw realized the Thunderpath was quiet again, and he
raced across, running faster than he had ever done in his life.
“I thought you were fresh-kill!” cried Graypaw as Firepaw cannoned into him, almost knocking him
over.
“Me too!” Firepaw gasped. He was trying to stop shaking. He turned back to watch Tigerclaw dart over
the path toward them.
“Twolegs!” he spat as he arrived at their side.
“Do you want to rest before we go on?” Bluestar asked Firepaw.
Firepaw looked up. The sun was low in the sky. “No,” he answered. “I’m okay.” But he had leaped so
frantically out of the monster’s way that his claws felt frayed and tender.
The cats carried on, with Bluestar in the lead. The earth was darker on this side of the Thunderpath and
the grass felt coarser underpaw. As they approached the foot of HighStones, the grass gave way to bare,
rocky soil, dotted with patches of heather. The land sloped up now, toward the sky. Craggy rocks topped the
slope, blazing orange in the sun.
Bluestar stopped once more. She chose a sun-warmed rock to sit upon, flat and wide enough for all five
cats to rest side by side.
“Look,” she meowed, tilting her nose toward the dark slope before them. “Mothermouth.”
Firepaw peered upward. The glare of the setting sun blinded him, and the slope was engulfed in shadow.
The cats waited in silence. Gradually, as the sun dropped down behind HighStones, Firepaw began to
make out the cave entrance, a square black hole that yawned darkly beneath a stone archway.
“We’ll wait here until the moon is higher,” meowed Bluestar. “You should hunt if you are hungry and
then get some rest.”
Firepaw was pleased to have a chance to find food. He was starving now. Graypaw clearly felt the same
and leaped away into a clump of heather, following the prey-scent that was thick in the air. Firepaw and
Ravenpaw followed him. Tigerclaw set off in the opposite direction, but Bluestar remained where she was.
She sat still and silent, gazing unblinkingly at Mothermouth.
The three apprentices gathered plenty of fresh-kill. With Tigerclaw they crouched on the stony hillside
and feasted. But in spite of their easy hunt, no cat said much, and the air still felt thick with tension and
anticipation.
Afterward, the cats rested beside their leader until the warmth had seeped out of the rock on which they
lay and cold black shadows reached up on all sides. Only then did Bluestar call out, “Come. It is time.”
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:52:13 GMT -5
CHAPTER 15
Bluestar stood and began to pad toward Mothermouth. Tigerclaw walked beside her, matching her strides
step for step.
“Come on, Ravenpaw!” called Graypaw. Ravenpaw was still sitting on the rock, staring up at the rocks.
At Graypaw’s mew, he stood and began to follow slowly. Firepaw realized his friend had hardly said a word
the whole journey. Is he just worried about ShadowClan, or is there something else troubling him? Firepaw
wondered.
It took the cats only a few moments to reach Mothermouth. Firepaw stood on the threshold and peered
inside. The blackness beyond the stone archway was darker than the cloudiest night. Firepaw narrowed his
eyes, trying to see where the tunnel led, but he couldn’t see a thing.
Beside him, Graypaw and Ravenpaw craned their heads nervously around the entrance. Even Tigerclaw
seemed unsettled by the black hole ahead of them. “How will we find our way in such darkness?” he asked.
“I will know the way,” answered Bluestar. “Just follow my scent. Ravenpaw and Graypaw, you will
remain on guard outside. Firepaw, you will accompany me and Tigerclaw to the Moonstone.”
Firepaw felt a thrill jolt through him. What an honor! Firepaw glanced sideways at Tigerclaw. The
warrior sat with his chin boldly raised, but Firepaw could detect a subtle fear-scent coming from him. It grew
stronger as Bluestar stepped forward into the blackness.
Tigerclaw shook his mighty head and padded after Bluestar. With a brief nod to the other apprentices,
Firepaw followed.
Inside the cave, his eyes still detected nothing. The complete and utter blackness felt strange, but he was
surprised to find that he wasn’t frightened. His eagerness to discover what lay ahead was stronger.
The cold, damp air reached through his thick fur and into his bones, stiffening his muscles. Even the
coldest nights did not hold the same chill as the air here. This ground has never known the warmth of the sun,
thought Firepaw, feeling the rock smooth like ice beneath his paws. Freezing air filled his lungs with each
breath, until he felt light-headed.
He followed Bluestar and Tigerclaw through the darkness, judging his way by scent and feel alone. They
were walking along a tunnel that sloped down and down, winding first one way and then the other. Firepaw’s
whiskers brushed the side of the cave, telling him where to walk and where to turn. His nose told him that
Bluestar and Tigerclaw were only a tail-length ahead of him.
On and on they went. How far have we come? Firepaw wondered. Then he felt a tingle in his whiskers.
The air in his nostrils seemed fresher than before. He sniffed again, relieved to smell the familiar world above.
He could smell peat, and prey, and the scent of heather. There must be a hole somewhere in the roof of the
tunnel. “Where are we?” he mewed into the darkness.
“We have entered the cavern of the Moonstone,” came Bluestar’s soft reply. “Wait here. It will be
moonhigh soon.”
Firepaw folded his hind legs under him on the chilly stone floor and waited. He could hear the steady
breathing of Bluestar and the more rapid, fear-scented panting of Tigerclaw.
Suddenly, in a flash more blinding than the setting sun, the cave was lit up. Firepaw’s eyes were wide
open after the blackness of the tunnel. He closed them quickly against the cold, white light. Then slowly he
opened them into tiny slits and peered ahead.
He saw a gleaming rock, which glittered as if it were made from countless dewdrops. The Moonstone!
Firepaw looked around. In the cold light reflected from the stone, he could make out the shadowy edges of a
high-roofed cavern. The Moonstone rose up from the middle of the floor, three tail-lengths high.
Bluestar was staring upward, her fur bleached white in the glow of the Moonstone. Even Tigerclaw’s
dark pelt shone silver. Firepaw followed Bluestar’s gaze. High in the roof was an opening that revealed a
narrow triangle of night sky. The moon was casting a beam of light through the hole, down onto the
Moonstone, making it sparkle like a star.
Beside him, Firepaw smelled Tigerclaw’s fear-scent growing, until it became overpowering. Firepaw felt
startled. Could the warrior see something else here, something dangerous? He saw a flash of movement, felt
fur rush past him, and heard the fleeing pawsteps of Tigerclaw racing back to the entrance.
“Firepaw?” Bluestar’s voice was quiet and calm.
“I’m still here,” he answered nervously. What had frightened Tigerclaw?
“Bluestar?” Firepaw mewed again when she didn’t answer. His heart was beating fast, making the blood
roar in his ears.
“It is all right, young warrior; don’t be afraid,” Bluestar murmured. Her calm voice settled him a little.
“I think Tigerclaw was surprised by the power of the Moonstone. In the world above, Tigerclaw is a fearless
and mighty warrior, but down here, where the spirits of StarClan speak, a cat needs a different kind of
strength. What do you feel, Firepaw?”
Firepaw sniffed the air deeply, and forced his body to relax. “Only my own curiosity,” he admitted.
“That is good,” Bluestar replied.
Firepaw looked back at the Moonstone. His eyes had gotten used to its light and he was no longer
dazzled. Instead, it soothed him. With a twitch of his tail, he remembered his dream. This was the brilliant ball
of light he had seen!
Spellbound, Firepaw watched as Bluestar padded up to the stone and lay down beside it. She reached
her head forward and touched the Moonstone with her nose. Her blue eyes sparkled with its reflection for a
moment before she closed them. Now she rested her head on her paws, her eyelids flickering, her paws
twitching occasionally. Was she sleeping? Then Firepaw remembered Graypaw’s words: “new leaders have
to sleep near the stone, and as they sleep, they have special dreams.”
He waited. The chill was not so intense here, but still he found himself shivering. He had no idea how
much time had passed, but suddenly the rock stopped glowing. The cavern was plunged into darkness once
more. Firepaw looked up to the opening in the roof of the cavern. The moon had passed on, out of sight. All
that remained were tiny stars shimmering in blackness.
Firepaw could just make out the pale shape of his leader, lying beside the Moonstone. He wanted to call
out her name, but did not dare break the silence.
After more endless moments, she spoke to him. “Firepaw? Are you still there?” Her voice sounded
remote and agitated.
“Yes, Bluestar.” Firepaw heard Bluestar’s pawsteps approaching.
“Hurry,” she hissed. He felt her fur brush past him. “We must return to camp.”
Firepaw raced after her, astonished by the speed with which she rushed through the blackness. He
followed her scent blindly, up and up the stone tunnel, until she led him safely back to the outside world.
Tigerclaw was waiting at the opening beside Graypaw and Ravenpaw as Bluestar and Firepaw climbed
out of the cave. His expression was cold and his fur was slightly ruffled, but he sat motionless and dignified.
“Tigerclaw.” Bluestar greeted him but did not mention the warrior cat’s flight from the depths.
Tigerclaw relaxed a little. “What did you learn?”
“We must return to camp immediately,” Bluestar meowed briefly.
Firepaw saw a look of desperation in his leader’s eyes. Now the horror of his dream forced its way back
into his memory: the fleeing cats; the great, dark warriors; the ear-splitting wail of distress. Firepaw tried to
ignore the cold fear that gripped his muscles, and followed Bluestar as she and the others raced down the dark
slope away from Mothermouth. Was his nightmare vision about to come true?
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:54:10 GMT -5
CHAPTER 16
They headed back the way they had come. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds. It was dark,
but at least the Thunderpath was quieter now. The only monster they heard was far off in the distance. The
cats crossed the path together and pushed their way through the hedge on the other side.
Firepaw could feel his muscles growing stiff with tiredness as they hurried on. Bluestar kept up a swift
pace with her nose thrust forward and her tail high. Tigerclaw loped beside her. Firepaw followed a few paces
behind with Graypaw, but Ravenpaw was flagging.
“Keep up, Ravenpaw!” Tigerclaw growled over his shoulder.
Ravenpaw flinched and bounded forward until he caught up with Firepaw and Graypaw.
“Are you okay?” Firepaw asked.
“Yes,” Ravenpaw panted, not meeting Firepaw’s eyes. “Just a bit tired.”
They scrambled down a deep ditch and up the other side.
“What did Tigerclaw say when he came out of the cave?” Firepaw meowed, trying not to sound too
curious.
“He wanted to check that we were still guarding the entrance,” replied Graypaw. “Why?”
Firepaw hesitated. “Did you scent anything strange about him?” he asked.
“Only that damp old cave,” Graypaw mewed, looking surprised.
“He seemed a little edgy,” ventured Ravenpaw.
“He wasn’t the only one!” Graypaw meowed, looking at the black cat.
“What do you mean?” asked Ravenpaw.
“Just that the fur on your neck stands up whenever you see him these days,” whispered Graypaw. “You
nearly jumped out of your skin when he came out of the cave.”
“He just surprised me, that’s all,” Ravenpaw protested. “You have to admit, it was a bit creepy by
Mothermouth.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Graypaw.
The cats slipped under a hedge into a cornfield that glowed silver in the moonlight, and followed the
ditch that ran around its edge.
“So what was it like inside, Firepaw?” Graypaw demanded. “Did you see the Moonstone?”
“Yes, I did. It was amazing!” Firepaw felt his fur tingle at the memory.
Graypaw shot him an admiring glance. “So it’s true! The rock really does shine underground.”
Firepaw didn’t reply. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the image of the Moonstone that
dazzled his mind. Then pictures from his dream crowded into his head, and his eyes shot open. Bluestar was
right: they had to get back to camp as quickly as they could.
Ahead, Tigerclaw and Bluestar had leaped through a fence, out of the cornfield. The apprentices
followed, squeezing under the fence, onto an earth track. It was the path that led past the Twoleg nest and the
dogs. Firepaw looked up and saw Bluestar and Tigerclaw trotting tirelessly together, silhouetted against a
skyline tinged with red. The sun would be rising soon.
“Look!” he called to Graypaw and Ravenpaw. An unfamiliar cat had jumped out in front of the two
warriors.
“It’s a loner!” hissed Graypaw. The three apprentices hurried forward.
The stranger was a stout black-and-white tom, shorter than the warriors, but well muscled.
“This is Barley,” Bluestar explained to the apprentices as they caught up. “He lives near this Twoleg
nest.”
“Hi!” meowed the cat. “I haven’t seen any of your Clan for some moons. How are you, Bluestar?”
“I’m well, thank you,” replied Bluestar. “And you, Barley? How’s the prey been running since we last
passed this way?”
“Not so bad,” replied Barley, with an amiable gleam in his eye. “One good thing about Twolegs—you’ll
always find plenty of rats nearby.” The black-and-white tom went on: “You seem in more of a hurry than
usual. Is everything all right?”
Tigerclaw looked at Barley. A growl rumbled deep in his chest. Firepaw could sense that the warrior
was suspicious of the loner’s curiosity.
“I don’t like to be away from my Clan too long,” Bluestar answered smoothly.
“As always, Bluestar, you are tied to your Clan like a queen to her kits,” observed Barley, not unkindly.
“What is it you want, Barley?” asked Tigerclaw.
Barley flashed him a reproachful look. “I just wanted to warn you that there are two dogs here now.
You’d be safer going back into the cornfield instead of past the yard.”
“We know about the dogs. We saw them earlier—” Tigerclaw began impatiently.
“We are grateful to you for the warning,” interrupted Bluestar. “Thank you, Barley. Until next time…”
Barley flicked his tail. “Have a safe journey,” he meowed as he bounded away up the track.
“Come,” ordered Bluestar, heading off the track. She pushed her way through the long grass between
the path and the fence that led back into the cornfield. The three apprentices followed, but Tigerclaw
hesitated.
“You trust the word of a loner?” he meowed.
Bluestar stopped and turned to face him. “Would you rather face those dogs?”
“They were tied up when we passed them earlier,” Tigerclaw pointed out.
“They may be untied now. We’re going this way,” meowed Bluestar. She ducked under the fence into
the field. Firepaw slipped after her, followed by Graypaw, Ravenpaw, and finally Tigerclaw.
By now, the sun had lifted its head above the horizon. The hedgerows sparkled with dew, promising
another warm day.
The cats padded along the edge of the ditch. Firepaw looked down into the deep gully, steep-sided and
filled with nettles. Firepaw could smell prey-scent. There was something familiar about the bitter odor, but it
was one he hadn’t smelled for a long time.
An earsplitting squeal made Firepaw whip around. Ravenpaw was struggling and clawing at the earth.
Something had hold of his leg and was dragging him down into the ditch.
“Rats!” spat Tigerclaw. “Barley has sent us into a trap!”
Before they could react, all five cats were surrounded. Huge brown rats swarmed out of the ditch,
squeaking shrilly. Firepaw could see their sharp front teeth glinting in the early dawn light.
Suddenly one leaped onto Firepaw’s shoulder. Fiery pain shot through his shoulder as the rat sank its
teeth into his flesh. Another grasped his leg between its powerful jaws.
Firepaw flung himself down and writhed madly, trying to shake free. He knew the rats were not as
strong as he was, but there were so many of them. Yowls, hisses, and spits told him that the others were also
being attacked.
Firepaw slashed fiercely with his claws, slicing out at a rat that held on to his leg. It let go, but another
one gripped his tail. Fast as lightning, powered by fear and rage, Firepaw fought and hacked at his attackers.
Twisting his head around, he sank his teeth into the rat that had embedded itself into his shoulders. He felt the
bones of its neck crunch in his mouth and its body go limp, before it fell away onto the dirt track.
Firepaw gasped with pain as yet another rat leaped onto his back and sank its teeth in. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw a flash of white fur. For a moment he was confused; then he felt the rat being dragged off
him. Firepaw spun around to see Barley flinging the rodent into the ditch.
Without hesitating, Barley glanced around and sprinted over to Bluestar. She was writhing on the path,
covered in rats. In a flash Barley had the spine of one between his teeth and was plucking it off her with
practiced ease. He spat it onto the ground and grabbed another in his mouth as Bluestar thrashed beneath him.
Firepaw rushed over to Graypaw, who was being attacked from both sides by two smaller rats. Firepaw
lunged at the nearest one, giving it a bite that left it dead. Graypaw managed to turn and pin down the other
with his claws. He grabbed it with his teeth and flung it into the ditch as hard as he could. It did not come
back.
“They’re running away!” Tigerclaw yowled.
Sure enough, the remaining rats were fleeing down into the safety of the ditch. Firepaw could hear the
scrabbling of small paws disappearing into the nettles. The bites in his shoulder and hind leg stung sharply. He
licked carefully at his fur, wet and matted with blood, its sharp tang mingling with the stench of the rats.
Firepaw looked around for Ravenpaw. Graypaw was standing at the edge of the nettles, mewing
encouragement as Ravenpaw pulled himself out of the ditch, muddy and stung. A young rat was still hanging
on to his tail. Firepaw bounded over and finished it off quickly while Graypaw helped to pull Ravenpaw over
the top of the ditch.
Now Firepaw looked for Bluestar. He saw Barley first, standing at the top of the ditch, scanning the
depths for more rats. Bluestar was lying on the path nearby. Alarmed, Firepaw dashed to his leader’s side.
The thick gray fur at the back of her neck was drenched with blood. “Bluestar?” he mewed.
Bluestar did not reply.
A furious yowl made Firepaw look up.
Tigerclaw leaped on top of Barley and pinned him to the ground. “You sent us into a trap!” he snarled.
“I didn’t know the rats were here!” spat Barley, his paws scrabbling in the dust as he struggled to stand
up.
“Why did you send us this way?” hissed Tigerclaw.
“The dogs!”
“The dogs were tied when we passed them earlier!”
“The Twoleg unties them at night. They guard his nest,” Barley panted, wheezing under the weight of
Tigerclaw’s massive paws.
“Tigerclaw! Bluestar is injured!” Firepaw burst out.
Tigerclaw released Barley at once. Barley got up and shook the dust from his coat. The great warrior
bounded over to Bluestar’s side and sniffed her wounds.
“Is there anything we can do?” Firepaw asked.
“She is in the hands of StarClan now,” meowed Tigerclaw solemnly, stepping back.
Firepaw opened his eyes wide with shock. Did Tigerclaw mean that Bluestar was dead? His fur prickled
as he looked down at his leader. Is this what the spirits at the Moonstone had warned her about?
Graypaw and Ravenpaw had joined them and stood beside their leader, horror-struck. Barley hung
back, craning his neck to see what was happening.
Bluestar’s eyes were open but glazed, and her gray body lay motionless. She didn’t even appear to be
breathing.
“Is she dead?” whispered Ravenpaw.
“I don’t know. We must wait and see,” replied Tigerclaw.
The five cats waited in silence as the sun began to climb into the sky. Firepaw found himself wordlessly
begging StarClan to protect his leader, to send her back to them.
Then Bluestar stirred. The end of her tail twitched and she lifted her head.
“Bluestar?” mewed Firepaw, his voice trembling.
“It’s all right,” Bluestar rasped. “I am still here. I have lost a life, but it wasn’t my ninth.”
Joy flooded Firepaw. He looked at Tigerclaw, expecting to see relief on his face, but the dark warrior
was expressionless.
“Right,” Tigerclaw meowed in a commanding tone. “Ravenpaw, fetch cobwebs for Bluestar’s wounds.
Graypaw, find marigold or horsetail.” The two apprentices dashed away. “Barley, I think you should leave us
now.”
Firepaw looked over to the loner who had fought so bravely to help them. He wanted to thank him, but
under Tigerclaw’s fierce gaze, he didn’t dare. Instead of speaking, Firepaw gave Barley a tiny nod. Barley
seemed to understand, for he nodded in return and left without another word.
Bluestar was still lying on the dirt track. “Is everyone all right?” she asked hoarsely.
Tigerclaw nodded.
Ravenpaw came charging back, his left forepaw wrapped in a thick wad of cobwebs. “Here,” he
mewed.
“Shall I put them on her wounds?” Firepaw asked Tigerclaw. “Yellowfang showed me how.”
“Very well,” agreed Tigerclaw. He walked away and scanned the ditch again, his ears pricked for more
rats.
Firepaw peeled a clump of cobwebs from Ravenpaw’s paw and began to press them firmly onto
Bluestar’s wounds.
She winced under his touch. “If it had not been for Tigerclaw, those rats would have eaten me alive,”
she murmured, her voice tight with pain.
“It wasn’t Tigerclaw who saved you. It was Barley,” Firepaw whispered as he took some more cobwebs
from Ravenpaw.
“Barley?” Bluestar sounded surprised. “Is he here?”
“Tigerclaw sent him away,” Firepaw answered quietly. “He thinks Barley sent us into a trap.”
“And what do you think?” Bluestar rasped.
Firepaw didn’t look up, but concentrated on pressing the last bit of cobweb into place. “Barley is a
loner. What would he gain by sending us into a trap only to rescue us from it?” he mewed eventually.
Bluestar laid down her head and closed her eyes again.
Graypaw returned with some horsetail. Firepaw chewed the leaves and spat the juice onto Bluestar’s
wounds. He knew it would help stop infection, but he still wished Spottedleaf were with him, with her
knowledge of and confidence in healing.
“We should rest here while Bluestar recovers,” announced Tigerclaw, padding up.
“No,” Bluestar insisted. “We must return to the camp.” Narrowing her eyes in pain, she struggled to her
paws. “Let’s keep going.”
The ThunderClan leader limped along the edge of the field. Tigerclaw walked at her side, his face dark
with unknowable thoughts. The apprentices exchanged anxious glances, and then followed.
“It is a long time since I saw you lose a life, Bluestar.” Firepaw overheard Tigerclaw’s whispered words.
“How many have you lost now?”
Firepaw couldn’t help feeling surprised at Tigerclaw’s open curiosity.
“That was my fifth,” replied Bluestar quietly.
Firepaw strained his ears, but Tigerclaw did not reply. He padded on, lost in thought.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:56:00 GMT -5
CHAPTER 17
Sunhigh came and went as the cats made their way through WindClan’s old hunting grounds. Their heavy
silence showed that they were still sore after the rat fight. Firepaw felt scratched and bitten all over. He could
see Graypaw was limping, occasionally hopping on three legs to protect his injured back leg. But it was
Bluestar who worried him most. Her pace was even slower now, but she refused to stop and rest. The grim
look on her face, clouded by pain, told Firepaw how much she wanted to reach the ThunderClan camp.
“Don’t worry about ShadowClan warriors,” she meowed through gritted teeth as Tigerclaw paused to
sniff the air. “You won’t find any here today.”
How could she be so sure? Firepaw wondered.
They picked their way carefully down the steep, rocky hillside that led to Fourtrees and joined the
familiar trail that led home. It was late afternoon, and Firepaw began to think longingly of his nest, and a
plump helping of fresh-kill.
“I can still smell the stench of ShadowClan,” Graypaw muttered to Firepaw as they trekked through
ThunderClan’s hunting grounds.
“Perhaps the breeze has carried it down from WindClan’s territory,” Firepaw suggested. He could smell
it too, and his whiskers were trembling.
Suddenly Ravenpaw stopped. “Can you hear that?” he mewed in a hushed voice.
Firepaw strained his ears. At first he heard only the familiar sounds of the forest—leaves rustling, a
pigeon calling. Then his blood ran cold. In the distance he could hear battle-hungry yowls, and the shrill
squeal of terrified kits.
“Quick!” Bluestar howled. “It is as StarClan warned me. Our camp is being attacked!” She tried to leap
forward, but stumbled. She pushed herself up and limped onward.
Tigerclaw and Firepaw pelted forward side by side. Graypaw and Ravenpaw followed, their tail fur
bristled to twice its usual size. Firepaw forgot his soreness as he charged toward the camp. His only concern
was to protect the Clan.
The sounds of battle grew louder and louder as he neared the camp entrance, and the stench of
ShadowClan filled his nostrils. He was right behind Tigerclaw as the cats dashed through the tunnel and into
the clearing.
They were met by a frenzy of fighting, ThunderClan cats battling furiously with ShadowClan warriors.
The kits were out of sight, and Firepaw hoped they were safely hidden in the nursery. He guessed the weakest
elders would be sheltering inside the hollow trunk of their fallen tree.
Every corner of the camp seemed alive with warriors. Firepaw could see Frostfur and Goldenflower
clawing and biting at a huge gray tom. Even the young tabby queen Brindleface was fighting, though she was
very close to kitting. Darkstripe was locked in a fierce tussle with a black warrior. Three of the elders,
Smallear, Patchpelt, and One-eye, were nipping bravely at a tortoiseshell that fought with twice their speed
and ferocity.
The returning cats hurled themselves into the battle. Firepaw caught hold of a tabby warrior queen,
much larger than him, and sank his teeth deep into her leg. She yowled with pain and turned on him, lashing
out with sharp claws and lunging at his neck with her teeth bared. He twisted and ducked to avoid her bite.
She couldn’t match his speed, and he managed to grasp her from behind and pull her down into the dirt. With
his strong hind legs he clawed at her back till she squealed and struggled away from him, running headlong
into the thick undergrowth that surrounded the camp.
Firepaw glanced around to see that Bluestar had arrived. Despite her injuries, she was fighting another
tabby. Firepaw had never seen her fight before, but even wounded, she was a powerful opponent. Her victim
struggled to escape but she held him tightly and clawed him so fiercely that Firepaw knew he would bear the
scars of this fight for many moons.
Then he saw a white ShadowClan cat with jet-black paws dragging a ThunderClan elder away from the
nursery. Firepaw remembered those unusual dark paws from the Gathering. Blackfoot! The ShadowClan
deputy made quick work of killing the elder, who had been guarding the kits, and began to reach into the
bramble nest with one massive paw. The kits were squealing and mewling, undefended now as their mothers
wrestled with other ShadowClan warriors in the clearing.
Firepaw prepared to spring toward the nursery, but a claw sliced painfully down his side and he whipped
around to see a scrawny tortoiseshell leap on top of him. As he slammed into the ground, he tried to call out
to the other ThunderClan cats that the kits were in danger. Fighting with all his strength to escape the
tortoiseshell’s grip, he wrenched his head around so he could see the bramble nest.
Blackfoot had scooped two kits from their bedding already and was reaching in for a third.
Firepaw saw no more as the tortoiseshell raked his belly with her hind claws. Firepaw scrabbled onto his
feet and crouched low, as if in defeat. The trick had worked before and it worked now. As the tortoiseshell
gripped him triumphantly and began to sink her teeth into Firepaw’s neck, Firepaw sprang upward as hard as
he could and flung the warrior away. He spun around and was on the winded warrior in an instant. This time
he showed no mercy, plunging his teeth deep into the cat’s shoulder. The bite sent the she-cat howling into
the undergrowth.
Firepaw jumped up, dashed over to the nursery, and thrust his head through the nursery entrance.
Blackfoot was nowhere to be seen. Inside the nest, crouching over the terrified kits, was Yellowfang. Her
gray fur was spattered with blood, and one of her eyes was painfully swollen. She looked up at Firepaw with a
ferocious hiss, then, realizing it was him, she yowled, “They’re okay. I’ll protect them.”
Firepaw looked at her as she calmed the helpless kits, and Brokenstar’s dire warning about the
ShadowClan rogue flashed through his mind. He didn’t have time to think about that now. He would have to
trust Yellowfang. He nodded quickly and ducked back out of the brambles.
There were now only a few ShadowClan cats left in the camp. Ravenpaw and Graypaw were fighting
side by side, lashing out at a black tom until he fled howling into the bushes. Whitestorm and Darkstripe
chased the last two intruders out of the camp, sending them off with a few extra scratches and bites.
Firepaw sat down, exhausted, and stared around the camp. It was devastated. Blood spattered the
clearing, and tufts of fur drifted in the dust. The surrounding wall of undergrowth was ripped open where the
invaders had crashed through.
One by one, the ThunderClan cats gathered beneath the Highrock. Graypaw came to sit by him, his
sides heaving and blood trickling from a torn ear. Ravenpaw flopped down and began to lick a wound on his
tail. The queens ran to the nursery to check on their kits. Firepaw found himself waiting tensely for their
return, his view blocked by the other cats. He relaxed when he heard squeals and purrs of joy coming from
the bramble nest.
Frostfur wove her way back through the crowd, followed by Yellowfang. The white queen stepped
forward and addressed them. “Our kits are all safe, thanks to Yellowfang. A ShadowClan warrior killed brave
Rosetail and was trying to steal them from their nest, but Yellowfang fought him off.”
“It was no ordinary ShadowClan warrior either,” Firepaw put in. He was determined to let the Clan
know how much they owed Yellowfang. “I saw him. It was Blackfoot.”
“The ShadowClan deputy!” meowed Brindleface, who had fought so bitterly to protect the unborn kits
in her swollen belly.
There was a stir at the edge of the group, as Bluestar limped forward and made her way over to the
apprentices. The grave expression on her face was enough to tell Firepaw that something was wrong.
“Spottedleaf is with Lionheart,” she murmured. “He was injured in the battle. It looks bad.” She turned
her head toward the shadow on the far side of the Highrock where the warrior lay, a motionless bundle of
dusty golden fur.
A high-pitched wail rose from Graypaw’s throat and he raced over to Lionheart. Spottedleaf, who had
been leaning over the ThunderClan deputy, stepped back to let the young apprentice share tongues for the
last time with his mentor. As Graypaw’s howl of grief echoed around the clearing, Firepaw’s fur tingled and
his blood ran cold. It was the cry he had heard in his dream! For a moment his head swam; then he gave
himself a shake. He had to keep calm, for Graypaw’s sake.
Firepaw looked at Bluestar, who nodded, and he padded over to join his friend by the Highrock. He
stopped for a moment beside Spottedleaf.
She looked exhausted and dull-eyed with grief. “I can’t help Lionheart now,” she mewed quietly to him.
“He is on his way to join StarClan.” She pressed her body against Firepaw’s side, and he felt comforted by the
touch of her warm fur.
The other cats looked on in silence as the sun slowly set behind the trees. Finally Graypaw sat up and
cried out, “He’s gone!” He lay down again beside Lionheart’s body and rested his head on his front paws.
The rest of the Clan walked silently forward to carry out their own grieving rituals for their beloved deputy.
Firepaw joined them. He licked Lionheart’s neck and murmured, “Thank you for your wisdom. You
taught me so much.” Then he sat down beside Graypaw and began gently to groom his friend’s ears.
Bluestar waited until the other cats had left before padding quietly up. Graypaw didn’t even seem to
notice his leader’s presence. Firepaw looked away as Bluestar spoke her last words to her old friend.
“Oh, what am I going to do without you, Lionheart?” she whispered. Then she limped back to her den
and crouched down outside, staring grief-stricken into the distance. She didn’t even try to lick clean her
bloody, matted fur. It was the first time Firepaw had seen her look utterly defeated, and he felt a chill run
through him.
He sat with Graypaw and Lionheart until the moon rose high. Ravenpaw joined him and together they
kept company with their grieving friend. Tigerclaw strode over and briefly shared tongues with Lionheart.
Firepaw waited to hear what words he would share with his warrior friend, but Tigerclaw remained silent as
he licked the matted fur. To Firepaw’s confusion, the dark tabby’s eyes seemed to be fixed on Ravenpaw
rather than the fallen deputy.
Spottedleaf padded lightly around the camp, tending to wounds and battered nerves. Firepaw watched
her approach Bluestar twice, but each time the leader sent her away to see to the others. Only when
Spottedleaf had attended to the wounds of all the other cats did Bluestar allow her to treat her bites and
scratches.
When she had finished, Spottedleaf turned and walked back to her den. Bluestar stood and slowly
hauled herself up onto the Highrock. The Clan cats seemed to have been waiting for her. As soon as she had
settled herself in her usual spot, they began to gather in the clearing below, unusually silent and somber-faced.
Firepaw and Ravenpaw got stiffly to their paws and joined them, leaving Graypaw behind with
Lionheart’s body. The gray apprentice was still lying with his nose resting against Lionheart’s cooling golden
pelt. Firepaw guessed Bluestar would excuse Graypaw from the Clan meeting this time.
“It is nearly moonhigh,” meowed Bluestar as Firepaw slipped into place next to Ravenpaw. “And it is
once more my duty—much, much too soon—to name ThunderClan’s new deputy.” Her voice was tired and
cracked with sadness.
Firepaw looked from warrior to warrior. They were all looking expectantly at Tigerclaw. Even
Whitestorm had turned to watch the dark tabby. From the bold expression on his face, and the way his
whiskers twitched in anticipation, Tigerclaw seemed to agree with them.
Bluestar took a deep breath and continued. “I say these words before the body of Lionheart, so that his
spirit may hear and approve my choice.” She hesitated. “I have not forgotten how one cat avenged the death
of Redtail and brought his body back to us. ThunderClan needs this fearless loyalty even more now.” Bluestar
paused again and then meowed the name loud and clear. “Tigerclaw will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”
There was a yowl of approval, with the loudest voices belonging to Darkstripe and Longtail. Whitestorm
sat calmly, his eyes closed, his tail wrapped neatly around him. He was nodding slowly and approvingly.
Tigerclaw lifted his chin proudly, his eyes half-closed as he listened to the Clan. Then he stalked through
the crowd, accepting tributes with the smallest of nods, and leaped up onto the Highrock beside Bluestar.
“ThunderClan,” he yowled, “I am honored to accept the position of Clan deputy. I never expected to gain
such high rank, but by the spirit of Lionheart, I vow to serve you as best I can.” He gravely dipped his head,
fixing the crowd with his wide yellow eyes, and jumped down from the Highrock.
Firepaw heard Ravenpaw murmur, “Oh, no!” under his breath beside him. He turned to look curiously
at his friend.
Ravenpaw’s head was hanging low. “She should never have chosen him!” he muttered.
“Are you talking about Tigerclaw?” Firepaw whispered.
“He’s wanted to be deputy ever since he took care of Redtail—” Ravenpaw mewed. He stopped
abruptly.
“Took care of Redtail?” Firepaw echoed. His mind suddenly raced with questions. What did Ravenpaw
know? At the Gathering, had his account of the battle with RiverClan been true? Was Tigerclaw responsible
for Redtail’s death?
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 18:58:03 GMT -5
CHAPTER 18
“Are you telling Firepaw how I protected Redtail?”
Firepaw felt a cold shiver ruffle the fur on the back of his neck.
Ravenpaw whipped around, eyes wide with fear. Tigerclaw loomed over them, his lips drawn back in a
menacing snarl.
Firepaw jumped up and faced the new deputy. “He was just saying he wished you had been here to take
care of Lionheart as well, that’s all!” he mewed, thinking quickly.
Tigerclaw looked from one to the other, then stalked away in silence. Ravenpaw’s green eyes clouded
with terror, and he started to tremble uncontrollably.
“Ravenpaw?” Firepaw meowed in alarm.
But Ravenpaw didn’t even look up at him. With his head held low, he slunk back to Graypaw and
crouched next to him, pressing his skinny black body next to Graypaw’s thick fur as if he was suddenly cold.
Firepaw looked helplessly at his two friends as they huddled beside Lionheart’s body. Not knowing
what else to do, he padded over and settled himself beside them, ready to sit out the night.
As the moon passed overhead, other cats came to join their vigil. Bluestar arrived last, once the camp
was calm and quiet. She said nothing, but sat a little way off, gazing at her dead deputy with an expression of
such unbearable grief that Firepaw had to look away.
At dawn, a group of elders came to take Lionheart’s body away to the burial place. Graypaw followed
to help dig the hole where the great warrior would rest.
Firepaw yawned and stretched. He felt chilled to the bone. Leaf-fall was nearly here now, and the
woods were clouded with mist, but above the leaves Firepaw saw a rosy morning sky. He watched Graypaw
disappear into the dew-soaked undergrowth with the elders.
Ravenpaw jumped to his paws and hurried back to the apprentices’ den. Firepaw followed him slowly.
By the time he arrived, the black cat was curled up with his nose tucked under his tail, as if asleep.
Firepaw was too exhausted to speak. He circled around on his mossy bed and then settled down for a
long sleep.
“Wake up!”
Firepaw heard Dustpaw’s voice calling through the den entrance. He opened his eyes. Ravenpaw was
already awake, sitting bolt upright with his ears pricked. Graypaw was stirring beside him. Firepaw was
surprised to see the familiar gray shape. He hadn’t heard him come back after burying Lionheart.
“Bluestar’s called another meeting,” Dustpaw hissed at them, and ducked out of the ferns.
The three apprentices crawled out of the warm den. The sun was already past its height, and the air felt
cooler than before. Firepaw shivered, and his belly growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten,
and he wondered briefly if he would have a chance to hunt today.
Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw hurried to join the crowd gathered below the Highrock.
Tigerclaw was speaking from his position beside Bluestar. “During the battle, our leader lost another
life. Now that she has only four of her nine lives left, I am going to appoint a bodyguard to stay at her side
constantly. No cat will be allowed to approach her unless the guards are present.” His amber eyes flicked to
Ravenpaw and then back to the rest of the crowd. “Darkstripe and Longtail,” he continued, turning his gaze
on the warriors, “you will act as Bluestar’s guards.”
Darkstripe and Longtail nodded importantly, and sat taller.
Bluestar now spoke. Her voice sounded gentle and calming after her deputy’s commanding yowl.
“Thank you, Tigerclaw, for your loyalty. But the Clan must understand that I am still here for them. No cat
should hesitate to approach me, and I am happy to speak to anyone with or without my bodyguards.” Her
eyes darted briefly in Tigerclaw’s direction. “As the warrior code says, the safety of the Clan is more
important than the security of any single member.” She paused, and her sky-blue gaze rested briefly on
Firepaw. “And now, I wish to invite Yellowfang to join ThunderClan.”
Meows of surprise rose from some of the warriors. Bluestar looked at Frostfur, who nodded her
agreement. The other queens looked on silently.
Bluestar continued. “Her actions last night proved that she is brave and loyal. If she wishes it, we would
welcome her as a full member of this Clan.”
From her place at the edge of the crowd, Yellowfang looked up at the Clan leader and murmured, “I am
honored, Bluestar, and I accept your offer.”
“Good,” meowed Bluestar, her voice firm as if the matter was now closed.
Firepaw purred with delight and nudged Graypaw. He was surprised to realize just how much Bluestar’s
public show of trust in Yellowfang meant to him.
Bluestar began to speak again. “Last night we successfully defended ourselves against ShadowClan, but
they are still a great threat. The repair work we began this morning will continue. Our boundaries will be
patrolled constantly. We must not assume that the war is over.”
Tigerclaw stood up, his tail held high, and glared down at the assembled cats. “ShadowClan attacked
while we were away from camp,” he growled. “They chose their moment well. How did they know that the
camp was so poorly defended? Do they have eyes inside our camp?”
Firepaw froze in horror as Tigerclaw fixed his cold stare on Ravenpaw. Some of the cats followed their
new deputy’s gaze and stared in puzzlement at the black apprentice. Ravenpaw looked at the ground and
shifted his paws nervously.
Tigerclaw went on. “We still have a while before sunset. We must concentrate on rebuilding our camp.
Meanwhile, if you suspect anything, or anyone, tell me. Be assured, anything you say will be in confidence.”
He nodded to dismiss the Clan, then turned and began murmuring to Bluestar.
The cats separated and began to move around the camp, assessing damage and forming work groups.
“Ravenpaw!” Firepaw called, still shocked by Tigerclaw’s dark hint that his own apprentice had
betrayed the Clan. But Ravenpaw had already bounded away. Firepaw could see him offering to help Halftail
and Whitestorm, before rushing off to collect twigs so they could patch the holes in the boundary wall.
Ravenpaw clearly didn’t want to talk.
“Let’s go and help him,” suggested Graypaw. His voice was flat and exhausted, and his eyes were dull.
“You go. I’ll be there in a moment,” Firepaw answered. “First I want to check on Yellowfang, see if
she’s okay after her fight with Blackfoot.”
He looked for Yellowfang in her nest by the fallen tree. She was stretched out in the shadows, her eyes
thoughtful.
“Firepaw,” she purred when she saw him. “I’m glad you have come.”
“I wanted to check that you were all right,” Firepaw mewed.
“Old habits stay longer than old scents, eh?” meowed Yellowfang with a flash of her old spirit.
“I suppose so,” Firepaw confessed. “How are you feeling?”
“This old leg injury is playing up again, but I’ll be fine,” Yellowfang told him.
“How did you manage to fight Blackfoot off?” Firepaw asked, unable to keep the admiration out of his
voice.
“Blackfoot’s strong, but he’s not a clever fighter. Fighting you was more of a challenge.”
Firepaw looked for the flicker of humor in the old cat’s eyes, but there was none.
She continued, “I’ve known him since he was a kit. He hasn’t changed—a bully, but no brains.”
Firepaw sat down beside her. “I’m not surprised Bluestar asked you to join the Clan,” he purred. “You
certainly showed your loyalty last night.”
Yellowfang twitched her tail. “Perhaps a truly loyal cat would have fought at the side of the Clan that
raised her.”
“But then I’d be fighting for my Twolegs!” Firepaw pointed out.
Yellowfang shot him an admiring glance. “Well said, youngster. But then, you have always been a
thinker.”
Sorrow pierced Firepaw’s heart as he remembered these were Lionheart’s words too. “Do you miss
ShadowClan?” he asked Yellowfang.
Yellowfang blinked slowly. “I miss the old ShadowClan,” she meowed at last. “The way it used to be.”
“Until Brokenstar became leader?” Firepaw was curious.
“Yes,” Yellowfang admitted softly. “He changed the Clan.” She gave a wheezy laugh. “He always knew
how to give a good speech. He could make you believe a mouse was a rabbit if he set his mind to it. Perhaps
that is why I was so blind to his faults.” The old she-cat stared into the distance, lost in memories.
“Bet you can’t guess who the new ShadowClan medicine cat is?” Firepaw mewed, suddenly
remembering what he had learned at the Gathering. It felt like moons ago now.
His words seemed to shake Yellowfang back into the present. “Not Runningnose?” she meowed.
“Yep!”
Yellowfang shook her head. “But he can’t even cure his own cold!”
“That’s what Graypaw said!” They purred together for a moment, amused. Firepaw got to his paws. “I’ll
leave you to rest now. Call me if you need anything else today.”
Yellowfang lifted her head. “Before you go, Firepaw, I hear you were in a rat fight. Did they draw
blood?”
“It’s okay, Spottedleaf has treated my wounds with marigold.”
“Sometimes marigold is not strong enough for rat bites. Go and find a patch of wild garlic to roll in. I
think there’s some not far from the camp entrance. That will draw out any poisons the rats may have left.
Although,” she added dryly, “your den mates might not thank me for my advice!”
“Well, I do. Thanks, Yellowfang!” Firepaw purred.
“Go carefully, young one.” Yellowfang held his gaze for a moment, then let her chin rest on her front
paws and closed her eyes.
Firepaw slipped under the branches around Yellowfang’s nest and headed for the gorse tunnel, in search
of the wild garlic. The sun was setting now, and he could hear the queens settling their kits for the night.
“Where do you think you’re going?” growled a voice from the shadows. It was Darkstripe.
“Yellowfang told me to go out and—”
“You don’t take orders from that rogue!” hissed the warrior. “Go and help with the repairs. No cat is to
leave the camp tonight!” He lashed his tail from side to side.
“Yes, Darkstripe,” Firepaw mewed, dipping his head submissively. He turned and muttered “Dirtstripe!”
under his breath, then headed toward the camp boundary, where he could see Graypaw and Ravenpaw busily
patching a large hole in the wall of greenery.
“How’s Yellowfang?” asked Graypaw as Firepaw trotted up.
“She’s fine. She said wild garlic would be good for my rat bites. I was on my way to find some, but
Darkstripe ordered me to stay in camp,” Firepaw told him.
“Wild garlic?” mewed Graypaw. “I wouldn’t mind trying that. My leg still stings.”
“I could sneak out and get some,” Firepaw offered. He had resented Darkstripe’s offhand treatment and
welcomed the chance to outwit him. “No one would notice if I slipped out of this hole here. It’d only take a
couple of rabbit hops.”
Ravenpaw frowned, but Graypaw nodded. “We’ll cover for you,” he whispered.
Firepaw nuzzled him gratefully and jumped out through the tear in the boundary wall.
Once outside the camp, he began to make his way to the wild garlic patch, the sharp tang alerting him
easily to its location. The moon was rising in the violet sky as the sun sank below the horizon. A cold breeze
ruffled Firepaw’s fur. Suddenly he caught a cat-scent carried toward him on the wind. He sniffed cautiously.
ShadowClan? No, just Tigerclaw, and two other cats. He sniffed the air again. Darkstripe and Longtail! What
were they doing here?
Curious, Firepaw dropped into a stalking position. He prowled through the undergrowth paw by paw,
keeping downwind so that he was not detected. The warriors were standing in the shadow of a clump of ferns,
their heads very close together. Soon Firepaw was near enough to hear them speak.
“StarClan knows, my apprentice has shown little promise from the start, but I never expected him to
turn traitor!” growled Tigerclaw.
Firepaw’s eyes widened and his fur prickled with shock. It sounded like Tigerclaw intended to do more
than just hint that Ravenpaw had betrayed the Clan!
“How long did you say Ravenpaw was missing on the journey to Mothermouth?” asked Darkstripe.
“Long enough to have traveled to ShadowClan’s camp and back,” came the deputy’s menacing answer.
The fur on Firepaw’s tail bristled angrily. That’s impossible! he thought. He was with us the whole time!
Longtail’s voice sounded now, high-pitched with excitement: “He must have told them that
ThunderClan’s leader and the strongest warrior had left the camp. Why else would they attack when they
did?”
“We are the last Clan to stand against ShadowClan. We must remain strong,” purred Tigerclaw. His
tone had become velvety soft now. He waited in silence for a response.
It was Darkstripe who answered, eagerly, as if he were still Tigerclaw’s apprentice, giving the correct
answer to a question on hunting techniques. His words made Firepaw breathless with fear. “And the Clan
would be better off without a traitor like Ravenpaw.”
“I have to say I agree with you, Darkstripe,” murmured Tigerclaw, his voice heavy with emotion. “Even
though he’s my own apprentice…” He trailed off as if he were too upset to say any more.
Firepaw had heard enough. Forgetting all about the wild garlic, he turned and crept as silently and as
quickly as he could back toward the camp.
He decided not to tell Ravenpaw what he had heard. He would be terrified. Firepaw’s mind raced. What
could he do? Tigerclaw was the Clan deputy, a great warrior, and popular with all of the other cats. No one
was going to listen to any accusations made by an apprentice. But Ravenpaw was in terrible danger. Firepaw
shook himself, trying to clear his head. There was only one thing to do—he must tell what he had heard to
Bluestar, and somehow convince her that he was telling the truth!
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:00:07 GMT -5
CHAPTER 19
Graypaw and Ravenpaw were still patching the hole when Firepaw reached them. They had left a gap just
wide enough for him to squeeze back through.
“No luck with the garlic,” Firepaw panted as he slipped in. “Darkstripe’s prowling around out there.”
“Never mind,” mewed Graypaw. “We can get some tomorrow.”
“I’ll go and get you some poppy from Spottedleaf,” Firepaw offered. He was worried by the dull look in
his friend’s eyes, and the way his muscles seemed stiff with pain.
“No, don’t worry,” mewed Graypaw. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s no trouble,” Firepaw insisted, and before Graypaw could argue, he bounded off toward
Spottedleaf’s den.
She was pacing her small clearing, her eyes clouded with unhappiness.
“Are you okay?” Firepaw asked.
“The spirits of StarClan are restless. I think they are trying to tell me something,” she replied, flicking
her tail uneasily. “What can I do for you?”
“I think Graypaw could do with some poppy seeds for his leg,” Firepaw explained. “His rat bites are still
hurting him.”
“The pain of losing Lionheart will make his injuries feel worse. But he’ll mend in time; don’t worry. In
the meantime, you’re right, poppy seeds will help.” Spottedleaf went into her den and brought out a dried
poppy head. She placed it carefully on the ground. “Just shake out one or two and give them to him,” she
meowed.
“Thanks,” Firepaw mewed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Go and see to your friend,” answered Spottedleaf, avoiding his gaze.
Firepaw picked up the poppy head between his teeth and began to walk away.
“Wait,” Spottedleaf hissed suddenly.
Firepaw spun around expectantly and met her tawny gaze. Her eyes burned back at him.
“Firepaw,” she hissed. “StarClan spoke to me moons ago, before you joined the Clan. I sense they want
me to tell you this now. They said only fire can save our Clan.”
Firepaw stared at Spottedleaf, mystified.
The strange passion faded from her eyes. “Take care, Firepaw,” she meowed in her normal voice, and
turned away.
“See you,” Firepaw replied uncertainly. He padded back through the fern tunnel. Her strange words
were echoing in his mind, but he could not make sense of them. Why had she shared them with him? Surely
fire was an enemy to all who lived in the forest. He shook his head in frustration, and bounded over to the
apprentices’ den.
“Graypaw!” Firepaw hissed into the ear of his sleeping friend. They’d been allowed to rest all morning,
after working on repairs for most of the night. Tigerclaw had ordered them to be ready to begin training at
sunhigh. The strong yellow light filtering through to the den told Firepaw it was already near that now.
He’d had a restless night. Dreams swirled through his mind each time he fell asleep, confusing and
indistinct, but full of darkness and menace.
“Graypaw!” Firepaw hissed again. But his friend did not stir. He’d eaten two of the poppy seeds before
he’d slept, and now he was in a deep slumber.
“Are you awake, Firepaw?” Ravenpaw mewed from his nest.
Firepaw spat silently under his breath. He had wanted to talk to Graypaw before Ravenpaw awoke.
“Yes!” he replied.
Ravenpaw sat up in his bed of moss and heather and began to wash with quick flicks of his tongue. “Are
you going to wake him?” he asked, nodding toward Graypaw.
A deep voice growled outside their den. “I hope so! Training is about to start.”
Firepaw and Ravenpaw jumped.
“Graypaw, wake up!” Firepaw poked his friend with one paw. “Tigerclaw is waiting!”
Graypaw lifted his head. His eyes were still heavy with sleep.
“Are you ready yet?” called Tigerclaw.
Firepaw and Ravenpaw crept out of the den, blinking as they emerged into the sunlight.
The deputy was sitting beside the tree stump. “Is the other one coming?” he asked.
“Yes,” Firepaw replied, feeling defensive on behalf of his friend. “He’s only just woken up.”
“Training will do him good,” growled Tigerclaw. “He’s grieved for long enough.”
Firepaw held the menacing amber gaze for a few moments. Warrior and apprentice, for a heartbeat their
eyes were locked as enemies.
Graypaw scrambled sleepily out of the den.
“Bluestar will be ready for you in a moment, Firepaw,” announced Tigerclaw. The words distracted
Firepaw from his anger. His first training session with Bluestar! Excitement surged through him. He had
expected his wounded mentor to be resting still.
“Graypaw,” continued Tigerclaw, “you can join my training session. Do you think you’re up to it,
Ravenpaw?” He glowered at his apprentice. “After all, you got some pretty nasty nettle stings while the rest
of us were fighting those rats.”
Ravenpaw looked at the ground. “I’m fine,” he mewed.
Graypaw and Ravenpaw followed the deputy out of the camp entrance. Ravenpaw’s head hung low as
he disappeared through the gorse tunnel.
Firepaw sat and waited for Bluestar. She did not keep him long. The gray queen emerged from her den
and padded across the clearing. Her fur was still matted in places where her wounds were fresh, but she
betrayed no pain in her confident stride. “Come,” she called to him.
Firepaw noticed with surprise that she was alone. Darkstripe and Longtail were nowhere to be seen. A
thought occurred to him and suddenly his excitement was tinged with anxiety—here was an opportunity to
tell Bluestar what he had overheard last night.
He caught up with her as she headed for the gorse tunnel and fell in step behind her. “Will your guards
be joining us?” he asked hesitantly.
Bluestar replied without looking back, “I’ve ordered Darkstripe and Longtail to help with the camp
repairs. Securing ThunderClan’s base is our first priority.”
Firepaw’s heartbeat quickened. He would tell her about Ravenpaw as soon as they left camp.
The two cats followed the trail to the training hollow. The path was strewn with freshly fallen golden
leaves that rustled beneath their paws. Firepaw’s mind raced as he searched for suitable words. What should
he tell his leader? That Tigerclaw was plotting to get rid of his apprentice? And what would he say when
Bluestar asked him why? Could he bring himself to say out loud that he suspected Tigerclaw had killed
Redtail? Even though he had no evidence beyond Ravenpaw’s excited storytelling at the Gathering?
By the time they reached the sandy hollow, Firepaw had still not spoken. The hollow was empty.
“I asked Tigerclaw to hold his training session in another part of the forest today,” Bluestar explained as
she padded into the center of the hollow. “I want to concentrate on your fighting skills, and I want you to
concentrate on them too—which means no distractions.”
I must tell her now, thought Firepaw. She needs to know about the danger Ravenpaw is in. His paws
prickled with anxiety. I won’t have another chance like this….
Sudden movement flashed in the corner of his eye. A swish of gray whirled past his nose, and Firepaw
fell forward as his forepaws were knocked lightly from underneath him. He staggered, regained his balance,
and spun around to see Bluestar sitting calmly beside him. “Do I have your attention now?” she growled.
“Yes, Bluestar. Sorry!” he replied hastily, looking into her blue eyes.
“That’s better. Firepaw, you have been with us for many moons now. I have watched you fight. With
the rats you were quick; with the ShadowClan warriors you were fierce. You outwitted Graypaw on that very
first day we met, and you defeated Yellowfang with your cleverness too.” She paused, then lowered her voice
to an intense hiss. “But one day you will meet an opponent who is all of these things as well—quick and
fierce and clever. It’s my duty to prepare you for that day.”
Firepaw nodded, completely caught up in her words. His senses were fully alert. All thoughts of
Ravenpaw and Tigerclaw had disappeared, and the musty odors and tiny noises of the forest rushed in upon
him.
“Let’s see how you fight,” Bluestar ordered. “Attack me.”
Firepaw looked at her, sizing her up and wondering the best way to begin. Bluestar was standing less
than three rabbit lengths away. She was twice his size, so it would be a waste of effort to begin with the usual
paw swipes and wrestling. But if he could leap straight onto her back with a powerful enough jump, he might
be able to unbalance her. She hadn’t taken her piercing blue eyes off him for an instant. Firepaw stared back
and leaped.
He had aimed to land squarely on her shoulders, but Bluestar was ready for him. She dropped swiftly
into a crouch. As Firepaw hit her, she rolled onto her back. Instead of landing on her shoulders he found
himself crashing down toward her upturned belly. She caught him with all four paws and flung him easily
away from her. Firepaw felt he had been bundled away like a bothersome kit. He hit the dusty ground hard
and lay winded for a moment before he scrambled to his feet.
“Interesting strategy, but your eyes betrayed where you were aiming,” growled Bluestar as she stood up
and shook off the dust from her thick coat. “Now, try again.”
This time Firepaw looked at her shoulders but aimed for her paws. When Bluestar dropped to the
ground he would hit her as she crouched. Firepaw felt a rush of satisfaction as he leaped, but it turned to
confusion as Bluestar unexpectedly sprang into the air and let him crash into the ground where she had stood
just a heartbeat before. She timed it perfectly—as he landed, she thundered down on top of him, squashing
the breath out of him.
“Now try something I don’t expect,” she hissed into his ear, climbing off him and backing away with a
challenging gleam in her eyes.
Firepaw scrambled up, panting, and shook himself crossly. Even Yellowfang had not been so tricky. He
hissed and leaped again. This time, as he flew at Bluestar, he stretched out his forepaws. She reared up on her
hind legs and used her forepaws to twist him away. As he felt himself slipping, Firepaw scrabbled with his
hind paws in the sand, but it was too late and he flopped heavily onto his side.
“Firepaw,” Bluestar meowed calmly, as once more he struggled to his paws, “you’re strong and quick,
but you must learn to keep control of your speed and body weight so that it’s not so easy for me to unbalance
you. Try again.”
Firepaw backed away, hot, dusty, and out of breath. Frustration raged through him. He was determined
to get the better of his mentor this time. Slowly he crouched and began to creep toward Bluestar. She
mirrored his crouch and hissed into his face as he approached. He raised a paw and swiped at her left ear. She
ducked to avoid his strike and reared up, towering over him. Quickly Firepaw rolled onto his back, slithered
beneath her body, and in one fast movement kicked both his back legs upward into her belly. Bluestar was
flung backward and fell onto the sandy earth with a loud grunt.
Firepaw flipped himself over and leaped to his paws. He felt jubilant. Then he saw Bluestar lying in the
dirt, and for the first time remembered her wounds. Had he reopened them? He dashed to her side and stared
down at her. To his relief her eyes glinted proudly back at him.
“That was much better,” she puffed. She stood and shook herself. “Now it’s my turn.”
She sprang at him, knocking him to the ground, then retreated and let him pick himself up before leaping
again. Firepaw braced himself, but she bowled him over easily again.
“Look at my size, Firepaw! Don’t try to stand up against my attack. Use your wits. If you are fast
enough to avoid me, then avoid me!”
Firepaw scrabbled to his feet again, preparing for her attack. This time he didn’t dig his paws into the
soft ground, but stood lightly, keeping his weight on his toes. As Bluestar flew toward him, he hopped neatly
out of her path, reared up onto his hind legs, and, with his forepaws, pushed her flying body onward past him.
Bluestar landed gracefully on all four paws and turned. “Excellent! You learn quickly,” she purred.
“But that was an easy move. Let’s see how you deal with this one.”
They trained until sunset. Firepaw heaved a sigh of relief when he heard Bluestar meow, “That’s enough
for today.” She seemed a little tired and stiff but she still leaped easily out of the sandy hollow.
Firepaw scrambled after her. His muscles were aching and his head spinning with all he had learned. As
they trekked together back through the trees, he couldn’t wait to tell Graypaw and Ravenpaw about this
training session. And it wasn’t until they reached the camp boundary that Firepaw realized he’d forgotten to
tell Bluestar about Ravenpaw.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:02:59 GMT -5
CHAPTER 20
By the time Firepaw returned, the camp was starting to look a little better. Parties of cats had clearly been
patching and repairing continuously throughout the day. Frostfur and Goldenflower were still busy fortifying
the nursery walls, but the outer wall looked solid and secure once more.
Firepaw trotted across the clearing to see if there was any fresh-kill around. He passed Sandpaw and
Dustpaw, who were preparing to leave in the next patrol.
“Sorry,” mewed Sandpaw, as Firepaw sniffed hopefully around the eating area. “We ate the last two
mice.”
Firepaw shrugged. He would catch something for himself later. He headed back to the apprentices’ den,
where Graypaw was sitting with his back resting against the tree stump, licking a forepaw.
“Where’s Ravenpaw?” Firepaw asked as he sat down.
“Not back from his task yet,” replied Graypaw. “Look at that!” He held out his paw for Firepaw to
inspect. The pad was torn and bleeding. “Tigerclaw sent me fishing and I stepped on a sharp stone in the
stream.”
“That looks pretty deep. You should get Spottedleaf to take a look at it,” Firepaw advised. “Where did
Tigerclaw send Ravenpaw, by the way?”
“Dunno, I was up to my belly in cold water,” muttered Graypaw. He stood up and limped away toward
Spottedleaf’s den.
Firepaw settled down, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the camp, and waited for Ravenpaw. After
overhearing the warriors’ conversation last night, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something dreadful was
going to happen to his friend. His heart lurched as he saw Tigerclaw enter the camp alone.
He waited longer. The moon was high in the sky. Surely Ravenpaw should be back by now? Firepaw
found himself wishing he’d spoken to Bluestar when he’d had the chance. He could see Darkstripe and
Longtail guarding her den now, and he certainly didn’t want them to overhear his concerns.
Tigerclaw had brought back fresh-kill, which he was sharing with Whitestorm outside the warriors’ den.
Firepaw realized he was very hungry. Perhaps he should go and hunt—he might come across Ravenpaw
outside the camp. As he wondered what to do, Firepaw saw Ravenpaw trotting through the entrance of the
camp. A thrill of relief raced through him, and not just because Ravenpaw was holding fresh-kill between his
teeth.
The apprentice came straight over to Firepaw and dropped the mouthful of food on the ground.
“Enough for all three of us!” he mewed proudly. “And it should taste extra good—it’s from ShadowClan
territory.”
Firepaw gasped. “You hunted in ShadowClan territory?”
“That was my task,” Ravenpaw explained.
“Tigerclaw sent you into enemy territory to hunt!” Firepaw could hardly believe it. “We must tell
Bluestar. That was too dangerous!”
At the mention of Bluestar’s name, Ravenpaw shook his head. His eyes looked hunted and shadowed
with fear. “Look, just keep quiet, okay?” he hissed. “I survived. I even caught some prey. That’s all there is
to it.”
“You survived this time!” Firepaw spat.
“Shhh! Tigerclaw’s looking. Just eat your share and keep quiet!” snapped Ravenpaw. Firepaw shrugged
and took a piece of the fresh-kill. Ravenpaw ate quickly, avoiding Firepaw’s eye. “Shall we save some for
Graypaw?” he asked after a while.
“He went to see Spottedleaf,” Firepaw mumbled through a mouthful. “He cut his paw. I don’t know
when he’ll be back.”
“Well, save him whatever you want,” replied Ravenpaw, suddenly sounding worn out. “I’m tired; I
need to sleep.” He stood up and pushed his way into the den.
Firepaw stayed outside, watching the rest of the camp prepare for the night. He was going to have to tell
Ravenpaw what he’d overheard in the forest last night. He needed to know just how much danger he was in.
Tigerclaw was lying beside Whitestorm, sharing tongues, but with one eye fixed on the apprentices’ den.
Firepaw yawned to show Tigerclaw how exhausted he was. Then he got to his paws and followed Ravenpaw
inside.
Ravenpaw was asleep, but Firepaw could tell from his twitching paws and whiskers that he was
dreaming. He knew it wasn’t a good dream by the tiny mewls and squeaks that Ravenpaw was making.
Suddenly the black cat leaped to his paws, his eyes stretched wide in terror. His fur was standing on end, and
his back was arched.
“Ravenpaw!” Firepaw meowed in alarm. “Calm down. You’re in our den. There’s only me here!”
Ravenpaw looked around wildly.
“It’s just me,” Firepaw repeated.
Ravenpaw blinked and seemed to recognize his friend. He collapsed onto his bed.
“Ravenpaw,” mewed Firepaw seriously. “There’s something you need to know. Something I heard last
night when I was out looking for the wild garlic.” Ravenpaw looked away, still trembling from his dream, but
Firepaw persisted. “Ravenpaw, I heard Tigerclaw telling Darkstripe and Longtail that you betrayed
ThunderClan. He told them you slipped away during the trip to Mothermouth and told ShadowClan that the
camp was unguarded.”
Ravenpaw spun round to face Firepaw. “But I didn’t!” he exclaimed, horrified.
“Of course you didn’t,” Firepaw agreed. “But Darkstripe and Longtail believe you did, and Tigerclaw
persuaded them that they should get rid of you.”
Ravenpaw was speechless, his breath coming in gasps.
“Why would Tigerclaw want to get rid of you, Ravenpaw?” Firepaw asked gently. “He’s one of the
Clan’s strongest warriors. What threat are you to him?” Firepaw suspected he already knew the answer, but
he wanted to hear the truth from Ravenpaw’s own mouth. He waited while Ravenpaw fumbled for words.
At last the black apprentice crawled closer to Firepaw and whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Because the
RiverClan deputy didn’t kill Redtail; Tigerclaw did.”
Firepaw nodded silently, and Ravenpaw continued, his whisper cracking with tension. “Redtail killed
the RiverClan deputy—”
“So Tigerclaw didn’t kill Oakheart.” Firepaw couldn’t help interrupting.
Ravenpaw shook his head. “No, he didn’t! After Redtail had killed Oakheart, Tigerclaw ordered me
back to the camp. I wanted to stay, but he yowled at me to go, so I ran into the trees. I should have carried on
running, but I couldn’t leave while they were still fighting. I turned and crept back to see if Tigerclaw needed
help. By the time I got near, all the RiverClan warriors had fled, leaving just Redtail and Tigerclaw. Redtail
was watching the last warrior running away and Tigerclaw”—Ravenpaw paused, then gulped—“Tigerclaw
j-jumped on him. He sank his teeth into the back of his neck and Redtail fell to the ground, dead. That’s when
I ran. I don’t know if Tigerclaw saw me or not. I just kept running till I got back to the camp.”
“Why didn’t you tell Bluestar?” Firepaw pressed gently.
“Would she have believed me?” Ravenpaw’s eyes rolled wildly. “Do you believe me?”
“Of course I do,” Firepaw mewed. He licked Ravenpaw between the ears in an effort to calm and
comfort his friend. He was going to have to find another opportunity to tell Bluestar about Tigerclaw’s
treachery. “Don’t worry; I’ll sort it out,” he promised. “Meanwhile, make sure you stick close to me or
Graypaw.”
“Does Graypaw know? About them wanting to get rid of me?”
“Not yet. But I’ll have to tell him.”
Ravenpaw settled silently onto his belly and stared ahead.
“It’s okay, Ravenpaw,” Firepaw purred, touching the skinny black body with his nose. “I’ll help you get
out of this.”
Graypaw padded into the den at dawn. Sandpaw and Dustpaw had returned from their patrol a while
ago and were asleep in their nests.
“Hi!” mewed Graypaw, sounding more cheerful than he had for days.
Firepaw woke at once. “You sound better,” he purred.
Graypaw licked Firepaw’s ear. “Spottedleaf put some gunk on my cut and made me lie still for hours. I
must’ve fallen asleep. By the way, I hope that chaffinch out there was for me; I was starving!”
“It was. Ravenpaw caught it yesterday. Tigerclaw sent him into—”
“Shut up, you two,” growled Sandpaw. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Graypaw rolled his eyes. “Come on, Firepaw,” he mewed. “Brindleface has had her kits; let’s go and
Firepaw purred with pleasure. At last, something for ThunderClan to celebrate. He looked down at
Ravenpaw, who was still sleeping, and padded out of the den. With Graypaw, he trotted across the clearing
toward the nursery. The rising sun made his pelt glow with warmth, and he stretched appreciatively, reveling
in the suppleness of his spine and the strength in his legs.
“Stop showing off!” Graypaw called over his shoulder. Firepaw stopped stretching and bounded after
his friend.
Whitestorm was sitting outside the nursery, guarding the entrance. “Have you two come to see the new
kits?” he meowed as Firepaw and Graypaw approached.
Firepaw nodded.
“One at a time only, and you’ll have to wait; Bluestar’s with her now,” Whitestorm told them.
“Well, you can go first,” Firepaw offered. “I’ll go and see Yellowfang while I’m waiting.” He dipped his
head respectfully to Whitestorm and headed off toward Yellowfang’s nest.
The old cat was washing behind her ears, her eyes half-closed with concentration.
“Don’t tell me you’re expecting rain!” Firepaw teased.
Yellowfang looked up. “You’ve been listening to too many elders’ tales,” she meowed. “What would be
the point of a cat washing its ears if they’re only going to get rained on anyway?”
Firepaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Are you going to see Brindleface’s new litter?” he
asked.
Yellowfang stiffened and she shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be very welcome,” she growled.
“But they know you saved—” Firepaw began.
“A she-cat is very protective of her newborns. Especially when it’s her first litter. I think I’ll stay
away,” Yellowfang replied in a tone that invited no argument.
“As you wish. But I’m going to see them. It must be a good sign, having new kits in the camp.”
Yellowfang shrugged. “Sometimes,” she muttered darkly.
Firepaw turned and trotted back to the nursery. Clouds had covered the sun, making the air turn fresher.
A fierce breeze tugged at his fur and rustled the leaves around the clearing.
Bluestar was sitting outside the nursery. Behind her, Graypaw’s tail was just disappearing into the
narrow entrance. “Firepaw,” she greeted him. “Have you come to see ThunderClan’s newest warriors?” The
ThunderClan leader sounded tired and sad.
Firepaw was surprised. Surely the kits were good news for ThunderClan?
“Yes, I have,” he replied.
“Well, when you’ve finished, come and see me in my den.”
“Yes, Bluestar,” Firepaw mewed as she walked slowly away. He felt his fur prickle. Here was another
chance to speak to Bluestar alone. Perhaps StarClan was on his side, after all.
Graypaw crawled out of the nursery entrance. “They’re really cute,” he mewed. “But I’m starving now.
I’m off to find some fresh-kill. I’ll save some for you if I find any!” He blinked affectionately at Firepaw and
bounded away.
Firepaw purred a good-bye and looked up at Whitestorm, who nodded his permission for him to enter
the nursery. Firepaw squeezed through the tiny entrance.
Four tiny kits huddled warmly in Brindleface’s deeply lined nest. Their fur was pale gray with darker
flecks, just like their mother, except for one tiny dark gray tom. They mewled and squirmed beside
Brindleface’s belly, their eyes shut tight.
“How are you feeling?” Firepaw whispered to her.
“A little tired,” answered Brindleface. She looked down proudly at her litter. “But the kits are all strong
and healthy.”
“ThunderClan is lucky to have them,” Firepaw purred. “I was just talking about them to Yellowfang.”
Brindleface didn’t answer, and Firepaw couldn’t miss the look of worry that flashed in her eyes as she
nudged a straying kit closer to her.
Firepaw felt a tremor of anxiety in his belly. Bluestar may have accepted Yellowfang into ThunderClan,
but it looked like the old cat was still not trusted by all of the Clan. He touched his nose affectionately to
Brindleface’s flank, then turned and made his way out into the clearing.
The Clan leader was waiting for Firepaw at the entrance to her den. Longtail sat at her side. The pale
tabby warrior stared hard at Firepaw as he approached. Firepaw ignored his gaze and looked expectantly at
Bluestar.
“Come inside,” she meowed, turning to lead the way. Firepaw trotted after her. Longtail immediately
stood up as if to follow them.
Bluestar looked back at him over her shoulder. “I think I’ll be safe enough with young Firepaw,” she
meowed. Longtail looked uncertain for a moment, then sat down again outside the entrance.
Firepaw had never been inside Bluestar’s den. He padded after her through the lichen that draped its
entrance. “Brindleface’s kits are lovely,” he purred.
Bluestar looked serious. “Lovely they may be, but they mean more mouths to feed, and the season of
leaf-bare will soon be here.” Then she glanced at Firepaw, who was unable to hide his surprise at her
melancholy tone. “Oh, don’t listen to me,” meowed Bluestar, shaking her head impatiently. “The first cold
wind always worries me. Come; make yourself comfortable.” She tipped her head toward the dry, sandy
floor.
Firepaw dropped onto his belly and stretched his paws out in front of him.
Bluestar circled slowly on her mossy nest. “I’m still aching from our training session yesterday,” she
admitted when she had finally settled herself and curled her tail around her paws. “You fought well, young
one.”
For once, Firepaw didn’t stop to bask in her praise. His heart was thumping. This was the perfect
moment to tell his leader his fears about Tigerclaw. He lifted his chin, ready to speak.
But it was Bluestar who spoke first, staring past him at the far wall of her den. “I can still smell the stale
stench of ShadowClan in the camp,” she murmured. “I hoped never to see the day when our enemy broke
into the heart of ThunderClan.” Firepaw nodded in silent agreement, sensing Bluestar was going to say more.
“And so many deaths.” She sighed. “First Redtail, then Lionheart. I thank StarClan at least the warriors
we have left are strong and loyal like them. At least with Tigerclaw as deputy, ThunderClan may still be able
to defend itself.” Firepaw’s heart plummeted and an icy chill cut deep into him as Bluestar went on. “There
was a time, when Tigerclaw was a young warrior, that I feared for the strength of his passion. Such energy
can need careful channeling. But now I am proud to see how much respect the Clan has for him. I know he is
ambitious, but his ambition makes him one of the bravest cats I have ever had the honor to fight alongside.”
Firepaw knew at once that he could not tell Bluestar his suspicions about Tigerclaw. Not when Bluestar
looked to her deputy to protect the whole Clan. He would have to save Ravenpaw himself. He took a deep
breath and blinked slowly, so that when Bluestar turned and looked directly into his eyes, no trace of his
shock and disappointment remained.
Her next words were quiet and full of concern. “You know Brokenstar will return. He made it clear at
the Gathering that he wants hunting rights in all the territories.”
“We fought him off once. We can do it again,” Firepaw insisted.
“That’s true,” Bluestar acknowledged with a wry nod. “StarClan will honor your courage, young
Firepaw.” She paused and licked a healing wound on her side. “I think you ought to know that, in the battle
with the rats, it was not my fifth life that I lost, but my seventh.”
Firepaw sat bolt upright, shocked.
Bluestar went on. “I have let the Clan believe it was my fifth because I don’t want them to fear for my
safety. But two more lives, and I will have to leave you to join StarClan.”
Firepaw’s mind was racing. Why was she telling him this? “Thank you for sharing this with me,
Bluestar,” he purred respectfully.
Bluestar nodded. “I am tired now,” she rasped. “Off you go. And Firepaw, I don’t expect you to repeat
this conversation to anyone.”
“Of course, Bluestar,” Firepaw replied as he nosed his way out through the curtain of lichen.
Longtail was still sitting by the entrance. Firepaw stepped past him and made his way toward his den.
He didn’t know which part of his conversation with Bluestar had been more bewildering.
He was stopped in his tracks by a yowl of horror coming from the nursery. Frostfur came sprinting into
the clearing, her tail bristling and her eyes wide with alarm. “My kits! Someone has taken my kits!”
Tigerclaw bounded over to her. He called to the Clan, “Quick, search the camp! Whitestorm, stay where
you are. Warriors, patrol the camp boundary. Apprentices, search every den!”
Firepaw rushed to the nearest den, the warriors’, and pushed his way inside. It was empty. He scrabbled
through the bedding with his paws but there was neither sight nor scent of Frostfur’s kits.
He charged outside and headed for his own den. Ravenpaw and Graypaw were already inside, pushing
aside their nests, sniffing every corner. Dustpaw and Sandpaw were searching the elders’ den. Firepaw left
them to it and charged from one clump of grass to another, pushing his muzzle into them, ignoring the nettles
that stung his nose. There was no sign of the kits anywhere. He looked around the camp boundary. Warriors
paced backward and forward, urgently sniffing the air.
Suddenly Firepaw spotted Yellowfang in the distance. She was pushing her way through an unguarded
part of fern wall. She must have found a scent, he thought, and raced toward her as her tail disappeared into
the greenery. By the time he arrived at the fern wall, she had gone. He sniffed the air. No kit-scent, just the
bitter smell of Yellowfang’s fear. What was she afraid of? Firepaw wondered.
Tigerclaw’s yowl sounded from the bushes behind the nursery. All the cats raced over to him, headed by
Frostfur. They crowded as closely as they could, jostling to see through the dense undergrowth. Firepaw
nosed his way forward and saw Tigerclaw standing over a motionless bundle of dappled fur.
Spottedleaf!
Firepaw stared in disbelief at her lifeless body. Fury rose in him like a dark cloud, and he felt the blood
roaring in his ears. Who had done this?
Bluestar stepped through the crowd and leaned over the medicine cat. “She has been killed by a warrior
blow,” she meowed softly.
Firepaw craned his neck and saw a single wound on the back of Spottedleaf’s neck. His head swam and
suddenly he was unable to see clearly.
Through his grief, Firepaw heard a murmur at the back of the crowd that swelled into a single piercing
yowl.
“Yellowfang is gone!”
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:05:16 GMT -5
CHAPTER 21
“Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf and taken my kits!” screeched Frostfur. The other queens rushed to
Frostfur’s side and tried to calm her with licks and caresses, but Frostfur pushed them away and wailed her
grief to the darkening sky. As if in reply, the sky rumbled ominously and a cold wind ruffled the cats’ fur.
“Yellowfang!” hissed Tigerclaw. “I always knew she was a traitor. Now we know how she managed to
fight off the ShadowClan deputy. It was a setup to let her trick her way into our Clan!”
Lightning crackled overhead, punctuating Tigerclaw’s words with a glaring white flash, and a clap of
thunder rolled around the woods.
Firepaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dazed with grief, his mind whirled. Could Yellowfang
really have killed Spottedleaf?
Above the shocked murmurings, Darkstripe meowed loudly, “Bluestar! What do you say?”
The cats fell silent as they turned to look at their leader.
Bluestar’s gaze moved across the crowd of cats, and settled finally on Spottedleaf’s body. The first
drops of rain began to fall, sparkling like dewdrops on the medicine cat’s still-glossy fur.
Bluestar blinked slowly. Grief clouded her face, and for a moment Firepaw was afraid that this new
death would overwhelm her. But when her eyes opened they glittered with a fierceness that showed her
determination to seek revenge for this cruel attack. She lifted her head. “If Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf
and stolen Frostfur’s kits, she will be hunted down without mercy.” The crowd meowed approvingly. “But we
must wait,” Bluestar went on. “There is a storm coming, and I am not prepared to risk more lives. If
ShadowClan has our kits, they will come to no immediate harm. I suspect Brokenstar wants them as recruits
for his own Clan, or as hostages—to force us to let him hunt in our territory. As soon as the storm has passed,
a patrol will follow Yellowfang and bring back our kits.”
“We cannot waste time, or the scent will be lost in the rain!” Tigerclaw protested.
Bluestar flicked her tail impatiently. “If we send out a hunting party now, our efforts will be wasted
anyway. In this weather the scent will already be lost by the time we are ready. If we wait until after the
storm, we stand a better chance of success.”
There were murmurs of agreement among the Clan. Even though it was barely sunhigh, the sky was
growing much darker. The cats were unsettled by the lightning and thunder, and seemed willing to listen to
their leader’s advice.
Bluestar looked at her deputy. “I’d like to discuss our plans with you, please, Tigerclaw.” Tigerclaw
nodded and stalked away toward Bluestar’s den, but the leader hesitated. She glanced at Firepaw, signaling
with a flick of her tail and a ripple of her whiskers that she wanted to speak to him alone.
The other cats gathered around Spottedleaf and began to share tongues with her, their wails of grief
sounding above the thunder. Bluestar wound her way through them and went toward the fern tunnel that led
to Spottedleaf’s den.
Firepaw quietly skirted the mourning cats and followed her inside. It was very dark beneath the ferns.
The storm had blotted out the morning sun so that it seemed as if night had fallen. Rain was falling more
heavily now, spattering noisily against the leaves, but at least it was sheltered in Spottedleaf’s clearing.
“Firepaw,” Bluestar meowed urgently as he arrived at her side, “where is Yellowfang? Do you know?”
Firepaw hardly heard her. He couldn’t help remembering the last time he had come to this clearing. An
image of Spottedleaf, trotting out of her den with her coat gleaming in the sunlight, burned in his mind, and he
closed his eyes to preserve it.
“Firepaw,” snapped Bluestar, “you must save your grieving for later.”
Firepaw shook himself. “I…I saw Yellowfang go through the camp boundary after the kits went
missing. Do you really think she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits?”
Bluestar gazed steadily at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I want you to find her and bring her
back—alive. I need to know the truth.”
“You’re not sending Tigerclaw?” Firepaw couldn’t help asking.
“Tigerclaw is a great warrior, but in this case his loyalty to the Clan may cloud his judgment,” Bluestar
explained. “He wants to give the Clan the vengeance it desires. No cat can blame him for that. The Clan
believes Yellowfang has betrayed us, and if Tigerclaw thinks he can reassure the Clan by handing them the
dead body of Yellowfang, that’s what he will do.”
Firepaw nodded. She was right—Tigerclaw would kill Yellowfang without question.
Bluestar looked stern for a moment. “If I find that Yellowfang is a traitor, then I will kill her myself. But
if she is not…” Her blue eyes burned into Firepaw’s. “I will not let an innocent cat die.”
“But what if Yellowfang won’t come back?” Firepaw meowed.
“She will, if you ask her.”
Firepaw felt stunned by Bluestar’s faith in him. The enormity of what she was asking him to do weighed
down on him, and he wondered if he had enough courage to carry it through.
“Go at once!” she ordered. “But be careful; you will be on your own and there may be enemy patrols
about. This storm will keep our own warriors in camp for a while.”
Thunder rolled overhead as Firepaw dashed out into the clearing. Rain hammered down, pelting against
his fur like tiny stones. A bolt of lightning lit up the faces of Darkstripe and Longtail as they watched him
cross the clearing.
Firepaw bounded past the nursery. He couldn’t leave without sharing tongues with Spottedleaf. The
other cats had run for shelter, abandoning the medicine cat’s body to the downpour while they huddled
beneath the dripping ferns, meowing their fear and loss.
Firepaw buried his nose in Spottedleaf’s wet fur and breathed in her scent one last time. “Good-bye, my
sweet Spottedleaf,” he murmured.
His ears pricked as he overheard the voices of Frostfur and Speckletail talking nearby. He froze,
straining to listen.
“Yellowfang must have had help,” Speckletail growled.
“Someone from ThunderClan?” came the anxious voice of Frostfur.
“You’ve heard what Tigerclaw’s been saying about Ravenpaw. Perhaps he had something to do with it.
I’ve never felt comfortable with him, myself.”
The fur on Firepaw’s spine prickled. If Tigerclaw had been spreading his malicious rumors as far as the
nursery, Ravenpaw wouldn’t be safe anywhere in the camp.
Firepaw realized he had to act quickly. He would find Yellowfang first, then deal with Ravenpaw. He
raced to the spot where he had last seen Yellowfang. He knew her scent so well that he could even smell it
through the rain-soaked leaves. He began to push through the bushes, mouth open, to detect where her trail
led.
“Firepaw!”
Firepaw jumped and then relaxed as he realized it was Graypaw’s voice.
“I’ve been looking for you!” mewed his friend as he rushed toward him.
Firepaw gingerly stepped back out of the ferns.
Graypaw squinted as rain dripped down his long fur and into his eyes. “Where are you going?” he
mewed.
“To look for Yellowfang,” Firepaw replied.
“On your own?” Graypaw’s broad gray face showed concern.
Firepaw thought for a moment and decided to tell Graypaw the truth. “Bluestar asked me to bring
Yellowfang back,” he mewed.
“What?” Graypaw looked shocked. “Why you?”
“Maybe she thinks I know Yellowfang best, and that I’d find her more easily.”
“Wouldn’t a party of warriors stand more of a chance?” Graypaw pointed out. “Tigerclaw’s the best
tracker in the Clan, and if anyone could bring her back, he could.”
“Maybe Tigerclaw wouldn’t bring her back,” Firepaw murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“Tigerclaw’s out for revenge. He would just kill her.”
“But if she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits…”
“Do you really believe that?” Firepaw asked.
Graypaw looked at his friend, shaking his head in confusion. “Do you think she’s innocent?” he mewed.
“I don’t know,” Firepaw admitted. “And neither does Bluestar. She wants to find out the truth. That’s
why she’s sending me instead of Tigerclaw.”
“But if she ordered Tigerclaw to bring her back alive…” Graypaw’s words were drowned by a
deafening crack of thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the trees around them.
In the dazzling light, Firepaw glimpsed Frostfur chasing Ravenpaw away from the nursery. The white
queen’s face was twisted with fury as she hissed at the young black cat and lunged forward to give him a
warning nip on the hind leg.
Graypaw turned to Firepaw. “What’s that all about?” he mewed.
Firepaw stared back at his friend, his mind leaping ahead to a new idea. It looked like Ravenpaw’s time
had run out, and Firepaw needed Graypaw’s help. But would his friend believe him? The wind was beginning
to roar through the trees above them, and Firepaw had to raise his voice. “Ravenpaw’s in great danger,” he
meowed.
“What?”
“I have to get him away from ThunderClan. Right now, before anything happens to him.”
Graypaw looked puzzled. “Why? What about Yellowfang?”
“There’s no time to explain,” Firepaw mewed urgently. “You’ll just have to trust me. There must be a
way we can get Ravenpaw away. Bluestar’s going to keep the warriors in camp till the storm is over, but that
doesn’t leave us much time.” He tried to picture the hidden corners of the woods, beyond ThunderClan
territory. “We’ll have to take him somewhere Tigerclaw won’t find him, somewhere he can survive without
the Clan.”
Graypaw stared at him for a moment. “What about Barley?”
“Barley!” Firepaw echoed. “You mean, take Ravenpaw to the Twolegplace?” His ears twitched with
excitement. “Yes, that might be the best idea.”
“Come on, then!” meowed Graypaw. “What are we waiting for?”
Relief washed over Firepaw. He should have known his old friend would help. He shook the rain from
his head, then touched Graypaw’s fur with his nose. “Thank you,” he purred. “Now, let’s get Ravenpaw.”
They found their friend huddled miserably inside their den. Sandpaw and Dustpaw were in their nests,
too, looking tense and scared as the storm crashed overhead.
“Ravenpaw,” Firepaw hissed through the entrance.
Ravenpaw looked up. Firepaw flicked his ears and the black cat followed him out into the storm.
“Come on,” Firepaw whispered. “We’re taking you to Barley.”
“Barley?” Ravenpaw mewed in bewilderment, narrowing his eyes against the driving rain. “Why?”
“Because you’ll be safe there,” Firepaw answered, looking the black cat straight in the eye.
“Did you see what Frostfur did?” mewed Ravenpaw, his voice quavering. “I was only going to check on
the kits….”
“Come on,” Firepaw interrupted him. “We must hurry!”
Ravenpaw met his friend’s gaze. “Thanks, Firepaw,” he murmured. Then he turned into the wind and
bounded across the clearing.
The three apprentices rushed toward the camp entrance, their fur flattened by the howling wind. As they
entered the gorse tunnel, a voice called them back.
“You three! Where are you going?”
It was Tigerclaw.
Firepaw whirled around, feeling his heart sink. He wondered desperately what he could say, when he
spotted Bluestar striding toward them. She frowned for a moment; then her face cleared.
“Well done, Firepaw,” she meowed. “I see you’ve persuaded your two friends to go with you.
ThunderClan has brave apprentices, Tigerclaw, if they are willing to run an errand in weather like this.”
“Surely this is not a time for errands?” objected Tigerclaw.
“One of Brindleface’s kits has a cough.” Bluestar’s voice was icily calm. “Firepaw has offered to fetch
some coltsfoot for her.”
“Does he really need his friends to go too?” asked Tigerclaw.
“In this storm, I think he’s lucky to have the company!” answered Bluestar. She looked deep into
Firepaw’s eyes, and he was suddenly aware of the trust she was placing in him. “Off you go, you three,” she
meowed.
Firepaw returned her gaze gratefully. “Thank you,” he purred, dipping his head. With a swift glance at
his companions, he led the way along the familiar paths toward Fourtrees. The wind roared through the
branches above them and the trees swayed, their trunks creaking and cracking as though they might fall at
any moment. The rain poured down through the leaves, soaking the cats to their hides.
They reached the stream, but the stepping-stones they usually leaped across had completely
disappeared. The cats stopped on the bank and looked down in dismay at the wide, brown, swirling river.
“This way,” Firepaw meowed. “There’s a fallen tree up here. We can use it to cross.” He led Graypaw
and Ravenpaw upstream to a log that rested only a kittenstep above the rushing water. “Be careful, it’ll be
slippery!” Firepaw warned, leaping carefully up onto it. The log’s bark had been stripped away, leaving only
smooth, wet wood to balance on. Carefully the three cats walked along the trunk. Firepaw jumped down on
the other side and watched his friends until they, too, had landed safely.
The trees were bigger on the other side, offering some shelter from the storm as they hurried on, side by
side.
“Are you going to tell me exactly why we need to get Ravenpaw away?” panted Graypaw.
“Because he knows that Tigerclaw killed Redtail,” Firepaw answered.
“Tigerclaw killed Redtail!” Graypaw echoed in disbelief, stopping dead and staring first at Firepaw and
then at Ravenpaw.
“At the battle with RiverClan,” puffed Ravenpaw. “I saw him.”
“But why would he do that?” Graypaw protested, setting off again. They started down the slope that led
into the clearing at Fourtrees.
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought Bluestar would make him deputy,” Firepaw suggested, raising his
voice against the wind.
Graypaw didn’t reply, but his face darkened.
The cats began to climb the steep slope that led up to WindClan territory. As Firepaw leaped upward
from rock to rock, he called down to Graypaw behind him. He wanted his friend to understand just how
dangerous it was for Ravenpaw in the ThunderClan camp. “I overheard Tigerclaw talking to Darkstripe and
Longtail on the night Lionheart was killed,” he yowled. “He wants to get rid of Ravenpaw.”
“Get rid of him? You mean kill him?” Graypaw sat heavily on a rock.
Firepaw stopped too. He looked down at his friends. Ravenpaw had halted farther down the slope, his
sides heaving as he caught his breath. He looked smaller than ever with his sodden fur clinging to his scrawny
body.
“You saw the way Frostfur went for Ravenpaw today?” Firepaw meowed to Graypaw. “Tigerclaw’s
been hinting to everyone that Ravenpaw is a traitor. But he’ll be safe with Barley. Now come on; we must
hurry!”
It was impossible to talk in the open expanse of WindClan territory. The wind howled around them
while the thunder and lightning rolled and flashed overhead. The three cats lowered their heads and pushed
onward into the heart of the storm.
Eventually they reached the edge of the plateau that marked the end of WindClan’s territory.
“We can’t take you any farther, Ravenpaw,” meowed Firepaw through the gale. “We have to get back
and find Yellowfang before the storm has passed.”
Ravenpaw looked up through the battering rain, alarmed. Then he nodded.
“Will you be able to find Barley alone?” yowled Firepaw.
“Yes, I remember the way,” answered Ravenpaw.
“Watch out for those dogs,” warned Graypaw.
Ravenpaw nodded. “I will!” Suddenly he frowned, “How can you be sure Barley will welcome me?”
“Just tell him you caught an adder once!” answered Graypaw, affectionately nudging his friend’s
rain-soaked shoulder.
“Go,” Firepaw urged, aware that time was short. He licked Ravenpaw’s skinny chest. “And don’t
worry; I’ll make sure everyone knows you didn’t betray ThunderClan.”
“What if Tigerclaw comes looking for me?” Ravenpaw’s voice was small against the rumbling storm.
Firepaw met his gaze steadily. “He won’t. I shall tell him you are dead.”
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:07:49 GMT -5
CHAPTER 22
Firepaw and Graypaw retraced their steps to ThunderClan territory. Both cats were bone-weary and wet
through, but Firepaw kept up the pace. The storm was beginning to move away. A ThunderClan patrol would
be out soon and on Yellowfang’s trail. They had to find her first.
The sky was still dark, even though the black thunderclouds were beginning to roll away toward the
horizon. Firepaw guessed that it must be nearly sunset.
“Why don’t we head straight into ShadowClan territory?” suggested Graypaw as they ran down the
steep hillside into Fourtrees.
“We need to pick up Yellowfang’s scent first,” Firepaw explained. “I just hope it won’t lead to the
ShadowClan camp.”
Graypaw glanced sideways at his friend, but didn’t reply.
They headed back over the stream, into ThunderClan territory. There was no scent of Yellowfang until
they crossed into the oak woods close to the camp.
Now that the rain had finally stopped, the scents around them were beginning to return. Firepaw hoped
that the rain had not washed away Yellowfang’s trail completely. He stopped and brushed at a fern with the
tip of his nose, and recognized the familiar smell. Yellowfang’s fear-scent prickled in his nostrils. “She came
this way!” he meowed.
He pushed his way through the wet undergrowth. Graypaw followed. The rain was easing, and the
thunder was fading into the distance. Time was running out. Firepaw pushed on faster.
To his dismay, he realized Yellowfang’s scent was indeed leading them straight to ShadowClan territory.
His heart sank. Did this mean Tigerclaw’s accusations were true? Firepaw began to hope that each new smell
would take them in a different direction, but the trail was unfaltering.
They arrived at the Thunderpath and halted. Several monsters roared by, throwing up fountains of dirty
water. The two cats hung back from the edge of the wide, gray track until there was a gap. Then they raced
across the path and into ShadowClan territory.
The scent markers that lined the border made Firepaw’s paws tingle.
Graypaw halted and looked around nervously. “I always thought I’d have a few more warriors with me
when I finally entered ShadowClan territory,” he confessed.
“Not afraid, are you?” Firepaw murmured.
“Aren’t you? My mother warned me about the stench of ShadowClan many times.”
“My mother never taught me such things,” Firepaw replied. But for the first time he was relieved that
his fur was so wet that it clung to his body—Graypaw might not notice the way it was bristling fearfully along
his spine.
The two cats prowled onward, alert to every sight and sound. Graypaw was on the lookout for
ShadowClan patrols, and Firepaw for the ThunderClan party he knew must come soon.
Yellowfang’s scent-trail led them steadily into the heart of ShadowClan’s hunting grounds. The woods
here were gloomy, the undergrowth crowded with nettles and brambles.
“I can’t smell her,” complained Graypaw. “It’s too wet.”
“It’s there,” Firepaw assured him.
“I can smell that though,” Graypaw spat suddenly.
“What?” Firepaw hissed. He stopped, alarmed.
“Kitscent. There’s kit blood here!”
Firepaw sniffed again, seeking out the smell of ThunderClan offspring. “I smell it too,” he agreed. “And
something else!” He flicked his tail down sharply, warning Graypaw to keep quiet. Then, silently, he signaled
with his whiskers toward a blackened ash tree up ahead.
Graypaw twitched his ears questioningly. Firepaw gave him a tiny nod. Yellowfang was sheltering
behind the wide, split trunk.
Instinctively the two cats separated, each moving toward the tree, one on either side. They crept over
the soft forest floor, using all the tricks of basic training, stepping lightly, keeping their bodies low.
Then they leaped.
Yellowfang yowled with surprise as the two cats landed beside her and pinned her to the ground. She
struggled free, spitting, and backed into a sheltered hollow at the base of the trunk. Firepaw and Graypaw
moved forward, blocking her way out.
“I knew ThunderClan would blame me!” she hissed, her eyes flashing with all her old hostility.
“Where are the kits?” Firepaw demanded.
“We can smell their blood!” spat Graypaw. “Have you harmed them?”
“I don’t have them,” snarled Yellowfang angrily. “I’ve come to find them and take them back. I stopped
because I smelled blood too. But they’re not here.”
Firepaw and Graypaw looked at one another.
“I don’t have them!” insisted Yellowfang.
“Why did you run away, then? Why did you kill Spottedleaf?” Graypaw asked the questions Firepaw
couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.
“Spottedleaf is dead?” There was no mistaking the shock in Yellowfang’s voice.
Relief washed over Firepaw. “You didn’t know?” he croaked.
“How could I? I left the camp as soon as I heard the kits were missing.”
Graypaw looked suspicious, but Firepaw could hear the truth in her voice.
“I know who has taken the kits,” she continued. “I smelled his scent near the nursery.”
“Who was it?” Firepaw asked.
“Clawface—one of Brokenstar’s warriors. And as long as the kits are with ShadowClan, they’re in great
danger.”
“But surely even ShadowClan wouldn’t harm kits!” Firepaw protested.
“Don’t be so sure,” spat Yellowfang. “Brokenstar intends to use them as warriors.”
“But they are only three moons old!” Graypaw gasped.
“That hasn’t stopped him before. He has been training kits as young as three moons since he became
leader. At five moons he sends them out as warriors!”
“Surely they’d be too small to fight!” Firepaw protested. But in his mind’s eye he pictured the undersize
ShadowClan apprentices he had seen at the Gathering. They weren’t just small; they were kits!
Yellowfang hissed scornfully, “Brokenstar doesn’t care about that. He has plenty more kits to spare, and
if they run out, he can steal them from other Clans!” Her voice was filled with rage. “After all, we’re talking
about a cat who killed kits from his own Clan!”
Firepaw and Graypaw were stunned.
“If he killed ShadowClan’s kits, why wasn’t he punished?” Firepaw asked at last.
“Because he lied,” growled Yellowfang. Bitterness made her voice hard. “He accused me of their
murder, and ShadowClan believed him!”
Firepaw suddenly understood. “Is that why you were driven out of ShadowClan?” he asked. “You have
to come back with us and tell all this to Bluestar.”
“Not before I have rescued your kits!” Yellowfang spat.
Firepaw lifted his head and sniffed the air. The rain had stopped, and the wind was dying down. The
ThunderClan patrol would be well on its way. They were not safe here.
Graypaw still seemed shocked by Yellowfang’s accusation. “How could a leader kill kits from his own
Clan?” he demanded.
“Brokenstar insisted on training them too hard and too young. He took two of the kits away for battle
practice.” Yellowfang took a deep, wheezing breath. “They were only four moons old. They were already
dead when he brought them back to me. They bore the scratches and bites of a full warrior, not of
apprentices. He must have fought them himself. There was nothing I could do. When their mother came to
see them, Brokenstar was with me. He said that he had found me standing over their dead bodies.” Her voice
cracked and she looked away.
“Why didn’t you tell her it was Brokenstar?” Firepaw asked in disbelief.
Yellowfang shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
The old she-cat hesitated. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with regret. “Brokenstar is
ShadowClan’s leader. Noble Raggedstar was his father. His word is law.”
Firepaw looked away and the three cats sat in silence for a moment. Then Firepaw meowed, “We’ll
rescue the kits together. Tonight. But we can’t stay here. I can smell the ThunderClan patrol coming.” He
paused. “If Tigerclaw is with them, Yellowfang doesn’t stand a chance. He’ll kill her before we can explain.”
Yellowfang looked at him, alert and determined again. “There’s peat this way; it’ll be wet after the
rain,” she told him. “Our scents will be disguised there.”
She leaped into a clump of ferns and Firepaw and Graypaw quickly followed her. They could hear the
rustling of undergrowth in the distance now. It was no longer the wind that disturbed the bushes, but an
approaching patrol, no doubt hungry for revenge and fired up by Tigerclaw’s lies.
An eerie stillness settled over the woods, and a thin fog was beginning to gather between the tree trunks.
Firepaw shook the droplets off his coat and impatiently pulled a burr off his chest.
Yellowfang led them onward. The ground grew soggier, and their paws began to sink into the soft peat.
The musty smell choked Firepaw’s nostrils, but at least it would mask their own trail. Behind them, the noise
of cats grew louder.
“Quick, under here,” Yellowfang urged, ducking under a broad-leaved bush. The three cats crouched
beneath it, drawing in their tails. Firepaw kept as still as he could, trying to ignore the rank wetness of the
ground seeping into his belly fur, and listening to the rustling of the ThunderClan patrol as it came nearer and
nearer.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:09:38 GMT -5
CHAPTER 23
Firepaw could tell there were several cats in the patrol, traveling fast. He couldn’t recognize the individual
scents of the cats through the earthy bog odors, but he knew it was ThunderClan. He held his breath as the
pawsteps raced past and away.
“Are we really going to try to rescue the kits from ShadowClan alone?” whispered Graypaw.
Yellowfang answered him first. “I might be able to find us some help from inside ShadowClan. Not all
the cats support Brokenstar.”
Firepaw pricked up his ears and Graypaw flicked his tail in surprise.
“When he became leader,” Yellowfang explained, “Brokenstar forced the elders to leave the security of
the inner camp. They had to live on the boundary and hunt for themselves. These are cats who have grown up
with the warrior code. Some of them might help us.”
Firepaw stared into her old eyes, thinking quickly. “And I might be able to persuade the ThunderClan
hunting party to help us too,” he meowed. “If I can speak to them before they see Yellowfang, I might be able
to make them believe her story. Graypaw, you wait at the dead ash, where we smelled the kit blood, till one
of us returns.”
Graypaw looked worried. “But do you really trust Yellowfang to bring back help?” he murmured to
Firepaw.
“You must trust me,” growled Yellowfang. “I will return.”
Graypaw looked at Firepaw, who nodded.
Without another word Yellowfang sprang past the two apprentices and disappeared into the bushes.
“Have we done the right thing?” asked Graypaw.
“I don’t know,” Firepaw admitted. “If we have, we are heroes and the kits are safe. If we are wrong,
then we are as good as dead.”
Firepaw sprinted after the patrol, around brambles, past gorse, and through nettles. The trail was easy to
follow. The angry ThunderClan cats weren’t trying to disguise their presence in ShadowClan’s territory.
Overhead, the thick layer of cloud had finally rolled away. Beyond the treetops, Silverpelt glittered
across the night sky. The moon was just rising, but its cold light couldn’t pierce the mist that clung to the
shadowy undergrowth.
Firepaw concentrated on the scent from up ahead. He could smell Whitestorm. He sniffed again.
Tigerclaw wasn’t with them. He raced to catch up and skidded to a halt behind the band of ThunderClan cats.
The warriors turned and glared at him, fur bristling, ears flattened aggressively. Darkstripe was with
them and the young she-cat Mousefur, as well as the tabby warrior Runningwind. Mousefur wasn’t the only
she-cat in the patrol—Willowpelt was there too.
“Firepaw!” growled Whitestorm. “What are you doing here?”
Firepaw gasped for breath. “Bluestar sent me!” he panted. “She wanted me to find Yellowfang
before—”
Whitestorm interrupted him. “Ah!” he meowed. “Bluestar told me I might find a friend out here. Now I
understand what she meant.” He looked thoughtfully at Firepaw.
“Is Tigerclaw nearby?” Firepaw asked, feeling a tingle of pride at their shared gaze.
Whitestorm looked at him curiously. “Bluestar insisted she needed him to remain at camp, to protect the
remaining kits.”
Firepaw nodded quickly, relieved. He meowed urgently, “Whitestorm, I need your help. I can lead you
to the kits. Graypaw is waiting for me. We plan to rescue them tonight. Will you come?”
“Of course we’ll come!” The warriors flicked their tails with excitement.
“It will mean raiding the ShadowClan camp,” Firepaw warned.
“Can you lead us there?” asked Runningwind eagerly.
“No, but Yellowfang can. And she has promised to bring help from her old allies in the camp.”
Mousefur glared at him and thrashed her tail angrily. “You have found Yellowfang?” she hissed.
“I don’t understand,” meowed Whitestorm, puzzled. “The traitor is going to help rescue the kits she
stole?”
Firepaw took a deep breath to calm himself, then looked steadily into Whitestorm’s eyes. “Yellowfang
didn’t take them,” he meowed. “Nor did she murder Spottedleaf. She wants to help us rescue our kits.”
Whitestorm stared back at him, then blinked slowly. “Lead the way, Firepaw,” he ordered.
Graypaw was waiting by the ash tree, pacing restlessly around its rotten trunk. He stopped as soon as he
saw the patrol emerge from the mist and twitched his whiskers in greeting.
“Any sign of Yellowfang?” Firepaw asked.
“Not yet,” answered Graypaw.
“We don’t know how far it is to the ShadowClan camp,” Firepaw pointed out quickly, feeling
Whitestorm stiffen beside him. “She may be on her way back right now.”
“Or she might be happily sharing tongues with her ShadowClan comrades while we sit here like fools
waiting to be ambushed!” meowed Graypaw.
Whitestorm watched the two apprentices. His ears flicked uneasily. “Firepaw?” he prompted.
“She will come back,” Firepaw promised.
“Well said, young Firepaw.” Yellowfang stalked out from behind the ash tree and sat down. “You’re
not the only one who can sneak up on someone,” she meowed at Firepaw. “Remember the day we met? You
were looking in the wrong direction that time too.”
Three other ShadowClan cats appeared from behind the tree and settled themselves calmly on either
side of Yellowfang. The ThunderClan cats bristled, alert and suspicious.
Both Clans stared silently at each other. Firepaw fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure what to do now.
Eventually one of the ShadowClan cats, a gray tom, spoke. His long body was skinny, and his fur looked dull.
“We have come to help you, not to harm you. You have come for your kits; we will help you rescue them.”
“What’s in it for you?” asked Whitestorm warily.
“We want your help to get rid of Brokenstar. He has broken the warrior code, and ShadowClan is
suffering.”
“So it’s that simple, is it?” growled Runningwind. “We just drop into your camp, snatch the kits, kill
your leader, and go home.”
“You will not meet as much resistance as you think,” murmured the gray tom.
Yellowfang stood up. “Let me introduce my old friends,” she meowed, weaving her way around the
ShadowClan cats. She brushed past the gray tom. “This is Ashfur; he is one of the Clan elders.
“And this is Nightpelt, a senior warrior before Raggedstar was killed.” She circled a battered black tom,
who nodded at them.
“And this is one of our elder queens, Dawncloud. Two of her kits died driving out WindClan.”
Dawncloud, a small tabby, meowed in greeting. “I do not wish to lose any more of my kits,” she told
them.
Whitestorm gave his chest a quick lick to smooth down his fur. “You are clearly skilled warriors if you
managed to creep up on us like that. But are there enough of you? We need to know what we’ll face when we
raid the ShadowClan camp.”
“The old and sick of ShadowClan are slowly starving,” meowed Ashfur. “The casualties among our kits
are more than we can cope with.”
“But if ShadowClan is a mess,” burst out Darkstripe, “how come you have shown so much strength
lately? And why is Brokenstar still your leader?”
“Brokenstar is surrounded by a small group of elite warriors,” answered Ashfur. “They are the ones to
fear, because they would die for him without question. The other warriors obey his orders only because they
are frightened. They will fight by his side as long as they think Brokenstar is going to win. If they thought he
would lose…”
“They would fight against him, not for him!” Darkstripe finished the elder’s words in disgust. “What
sort of loyalty is that?”
The hackles of the ShadowClan cats began to rise.
“Our Clan was not always like this,” Yellowfang interrupted. “When Raggedstar led ShadowClan, we
were feared for our strength. But in those days our strength came from the warrior code and Clan loyalty, not
from fear and bloodlust.” The old medicine cat sighed. “If only Raggedstar had lived longer.”
“How did Raggedstar die?” asked Whitestorm curiously. “There were so many rumors at the
Gatherings, but no one seemed to know for sure.”
Yellowfang’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “He was ambushed by a warrior patrol from another Clan.”
Whitestorm nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that is what most cats seemed to think. These are bad times
indeed, when leaders are picked off in the dark, instead of open and honorable battle.”
Firepaw frowned, his mind racing over different battle plans. “Is there any way of taking the kits
without alerting the whole Clan?” he asked.
Dawncloud answered him. “They are very closely guarded. Brokenstar will be expecting ThunderClan
to try to take them. You won’t be able to steal them in secret. Open attack is your only hope.”
“Then we must concentrate our attack on Brokenstar and his inner guard,” meowed Whitestorm.
Yellowfang had a suggestion. “The ShadowClan warriors should lead me into the ShadowClan camp.
They could say they had captured me. We have to make sure Brokenstar and his warriors are out of their
dens. News of my capture will bring them into the clearing. Once they’re all out in the open, I’ll give the
signal for you to attack.”
Whitestorm was silent for a moment. Then he nodded, his face grave as he committed his warriors to the
attack. “Very well, Yellowfang,” he meowed. “Please lead the way to the ShadowClan camp.”
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:11:53 GMT -5
CHAPTER 24
Yellowfang turned and pushed her way into the bracken. Whitestorm and the others followed her.
Firepaw was tingling with excitement. He didn’t feel the damp chill in the air, and his weariness was
long forgotten.
Yellowfang guided them to a small hollow surrounded by thick undergrowth and pointed out the
entrance to the ShadowClan camp. The tangled mass of brambles looked very different from the neat gorse
tunnel that led into the ThunderClan camp. The camp boundary was full of holes and gaps and the stench of
rotting meat wafted toward them.
“You eat crow food?” whispered Graypaw, curling his lip.
“Our warriors are used for attacking, not hunting,” replied Ashfur. “We eat whatever we can find.”
“ThunderClan, hide in that clump of bracken over there,” hissed Yellowfang. “It’s full of toadstools that
will disguise your scent. Wait here till you hear me call.”
She stepped back to let the other ShadowClan cats lead the way, tucking herself into the center of their
group as though she were their prisoner. They headed silently into the camp.
The ThunderClan cats settled themselves among the toadstools, tense and alert. Firepaw could feel his
coat prickling. He looked at Graypaw beside him. The thick fur on the back of his friend’s neck was standing
on end, and Firepaw could hear him panting with suppressed excitement.
Suddenly yowling erupted from the ShadowClan camp. Without hesitating, the ThunderClan cats sprang
from their hiding places and raced through the entrance.
Yellowfang, Ashfur, Dawncloud, and Nightpelt were in a well-trodden, muddy clearing, wrestling with
six vicious-looking warriors. Firepaw recognized Brokenstar and his deputy, Blackfoot, among them. The
warriors looked hungry and battle-scarred, but Firepaw could see the hard muscles pounding beneath their
patchy fur.
Around the edge of the clearing, groups of scrawny cats stared uncertainly at the mayhem. Their skinny
bodies seemed to recoil at the violence, while their dull eyes looked on, shocked and confused. Out of the
corner of his eye, Firepaw saw Runningnose back away and hide beneath a bush.
At Whitestorm’s nodded signal, the ThunderClan cats leaped into the battle.
Firepaw grasped a silver tabby with his claws, but was shaken loose. He tumbled over and the
ShadowClan warrior turned on him and gripped him with claws as sharp as blackthorns. Firepaw managed to
twist and sink his teeth deep into the cat’s flesh. The warrior’s yowl told him he had found a tender spot, and
he bit harder. The warrior screeched again, ripping himself free, and ran off into the bushes.
Firepaw stood up. A young ShadowClan apprentice leaped at him from the edge of the camp, its soft
kitten fur fluffed up with fear.
Firepaw sheathed his claws and batted him away easily. “This is not your battle,” he hissed.
Whitestorm already had Blackfoot pinned to the ground. He gave him a vicious bite and the injured
deputy raced away toward the camp entrance and out into the safety of the forest.
“Firepaw!” Firepaw heard Dawncloud screech his name. “Watch out! Clawface is—” He didn’t hear
the rest. A heavily built brown cat crashed into him. Clawface! Firepaw dug his claws into the ground and
whirled around to fight. The warrior that killed Spottedleaf! Rage surged through him and he flung himself
onto the brown tom.
Firepaw pushed the warrior to the ground and pressed his head into the dirt. Blinded by fury, he
prepared to sink his teeth into Clawface’s neck. But before he could deal his death blow, Whitestorm
knocked him aside and grasped the ShadowClan warrior.
“ThunderClan warriors do not kill unless they have to,” he growled in Firepaw’s ear. “We just need to
let them know not to show their faces here again!” He gave Clawface a fierce bite that sent him screaming
out of the camp.
Still raging, Firepaw looked around wildly. Brokenstar’s warriors had gone.
An angry screech sounded from behind Graypaw. Graypaw leaped out of the way and Firepaw saw
Yellowfang gripping Brokenstar with muddy, bloodstained paws. His body bled from several wounds. His ears
were flattened against his head, and his whiskers were drawn back as he crouched, flattened beneath
Yellowfang’s powerful grasp.
“I never thought you would be harder to kill than my father!” he snarled up at her.
Yellowfang recoiled as if she had been stung by a bee, her face twisted suddenly by shock and grief. She
loosened her grip on Brokenstar, and instantly he threw her aside with a twist of his powerful body.
“You killed Raggedstar?” Yellowfang wailed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Brokenstar eyed her coldly. “You found his body. Didn’t you recognize my fur between his claws?”
Yellowfang stared in horror as he continued. “He was a soft and foolish leader. He deserved to die.”
“No!” hissed Yellowfang, her head dropping. Then she gave herself a shake. She looked up at
Brokenstar, arching her back. “And Brightflower’s kits? Did they deserve to die too?” she rasped.
Brokenstar growled and hurled himself at Yellowfang, forcing her onto her belly. Yellowfang didn’t
even attempt to struggle against his thorn-sharp claws. Firepaw saw with alarm that her eyes were glazed with
sadness.
“Those kits were weak,” Brokenstar hissed, bending his face toward Yellowfang’s ear. “They would
have been no use to ShadowClan. If I hadn’t killed them, some other warrior would have.”
A wail of grief went up from a black-and-white ShadowClan queen. Brokenstar ignored her. “I should
have killed you when I had the chance,” he spat at Yellowfang. “It seems I must have some of my father’s
softness. I was a fool to let you leave ShadowClan alive!” He lunged, teeth bared, ready to sink them into her
neck.
Firepaw was quicker. He jumped onto Brokenstar’s back before he could clamp his jaws shut. Firepaw
dug his claws into the matted tabby fur and pulled him off the exhausted queen, flinging him to the edge of
the clearing.
Brokenstar twisted around in midair to land on his feet and looked into Firepaw’s eyes, spitting
viciously. “Don’t waste your time, apprentice! I’ve shared dreams with StarClan. You will have to kill me
nine times over before I join them. Do you really think you’re strong enough for that?” His eyes glowed with
confidence and defiance.
Firepaw stared back at him. His belly tightened. Brokenstar was a Clan leader! How on earth could he
expect to defeat him? But the watching ShadowClan cats had begun to pad slowly toward their defeated
leader, snarling and hissing with hatred. They were battered and half-starved, but Brokenstar was
outnumbered, and he seemed to realize this with a nervous flick of his tail. He crouched and backed away
through the bushes. His eyes glittered menacingly from the shadows, his gaze finding Firepaw through the
crowd.
“This isn’t over, apprentice,” he hissed before he turned and vanished into the forest after his broken
warriors.
Firepaw looked to Whitestorm. “Should we go after them?” he meowed.
The warrior shook his head. “I think they got the message that they are not welcome here.”
Nightpelt, the ShadowClan warrior, nodded in agreement. “Leave them. If they dare to show their faces
here again, ShadowClan will be strong enough by then to tackle them alone.”
The rest of ShadowClan was huddled together in the ruins of their camp, as if numbed by the realization
that their leader had gone. It will take time to rebuild this Clan, Firepaw thought.
“The kits!”
Firepaw heard Graypaw’s meow from a far corner of the clearing. He rushed over to his friend,
Mousefur and Whitestorm bounding at his heels. As they approached, they could hear the pitiful mewling of
kits coming from beneath a pile of leaves and twigs. Quickly Graypaw and Mousefur dug down through the
foliage until they had uncovered the missing ThunderClan kits at the bottom of a small pit.
“Are they okay?” demanded Whitestorm, his tail twitching with anxiety.
“They’re fine,” replied Graypaw. “Most have only a few scratches. But that little tabby has a pretty
nasty wound on his ear. Can you take a look, Yellowfang?”
The old she-cat was licking her own wounds, but at Graypaw’s call she raced to the side of the pit,
where Graypaw had carefully deposited the tabby kit.
Firepaw helped Graypaw to lift out the rest of the kits. The last one was gray, like the embers of an old
fire. She mewled and squirmed as Firepaw placed her on the ground. Mousefur gathered all the kits to her and
comforted them with licks and caresses.
Yellowfang looked closely at the torn ear. “We need to stop this bleeding,” she meowed.
Runningnose stepped out of the shadows. His forepaw was coated in a layer of cobwebs, which he
silently passed to Yellowfang. She nodded her thanks and began to treat the kit’s wound.
Nightpelt approached the group of ThunderClan cats. “You helped ShadowClan rid itself of a brutal and
dangerous leader, and we are grateful. But it is time you left our camp and returned to your own. I promise
your hunting grounds will be free of ShadowClan warriors as long as we can find enough food in our own
territory.”
Whitestorm nodded. “Hunt in peace for one moon, Nightpelt. ThunderClan knows you need time to
rebuild your Clan.” He turned to Yellowfang. “And you, Yellowfang?” he asked. “Do you wish to return with
us, or stay here with your old comrades?”
Yellowfang looked up at him. “I will make the journey back with you.” She glanced at a deep gash on
Whitestorm’s hind leg. “You will need a medicine cat, for yourself as well as your kits.”
“Thank you,” purred Whitestorm. He signaled to the ThunderClan cats with a sweep of his tail and led
them out of the clearing. Mousefur and Willowpelt helped the kits, who stumbled along, exhausted and
bewildered. Yellowfang walked close to the wounded tabby kit, lifting him by the scruff of his neck every
time he slipped. Firepaw and Graypaw followed them through the brambles, past the camp scent-line and out
into the forest.
The moon was still rising in the quiet sky as the ThunderClan party began the long trudge home, while
around them showers of brown leaves fluttered to the forest floor.
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Post by kittycandies on Aug 19, 2016 19:14:39 GMT -5
CHAPTER 25
Buoyed up with relief at being home again, Firepaw and Graypaw sprinted ahead of the patrol into the
ThunderClan camp. Frostfur was lying in the middle of the clearing, her head resting sadly on her paws. As
the two apprentices bounded in she lifted her nose and sniffed the air. “My kits!” she cried. She leaped up
and raced past Firepaw and Graypaw to meet the rest of the party as they emerged from the tunnel.
The kits rushed over to Frostfur and nuzzled into her side. She curled her soft body around them and
licked them each in turn, purring loudly.
Yellowfang hung back at the camp entrance and looked on silently.
Bluestar strode up to the returning patrol. She glanced fondly at Frostfur and her kits and then turned
her eyes to Whitestorm. “Are they all right?” she asked.
“They’re fine,” meowed Whitestorm.
“Well done, Whitestorm. ThunderClan honors you.”
Whitestorm bent his head to accept her praise, and added, “But it was thanks to this apprentice that we
found them.”
Firepaw lifted his head and tail proudly, about to speak, but Tigerclaw’s accusing snarl sounded from
across the clearing.
“Why did you bring back the traitor?” The dark warrior stalked up to the patrol and stood beside his
leader.
“She is no traitor,” Firepaw insisted. He looked around the camp. The rest of the cats had quickly
gathered in the clearing to see the kits and congratulate the hunting party. Some of them had spotted
Yellowfang and were eyeing her with looks of pure hatred.
“She killed Spottedleaf,” spat Longtail.
“Look between Spottedleaf’s claws,” Graypaw suggested. “You will find the brown fur of Clawface,
not Yellowfang’s gray fur!”
Bluestar nodded at Mousefur, who darted away from the crowd, toward the spot where Spottedleaf’s
body lay, waiting for its dawn burial. The Clan waited in tense silence till she returned.
“Graypaw is right,” Mousefur panted, rushing back to the clearing. “Spottedleaf was not attacked by a
gray cat.”
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.
“But that doesn’t mean she didn’t help to take the kits!” hissed Tigerclaw.
“Without Yellowfang we never would have recovered the kits!” Firepaw spat, his exhaustion making
him impatient. “She knew that a ShadowClan warrior had taken them. She was hunting for them when I found
her. She risked her life returning to the ShadowClan camp. It was Yellowfang who thought up the battle plan
that got us into the ShadowClan camp and gave us a chance to defeat Brokenstar!”
The cats listened to Firepaw’s words, astonished.
“He’s right,” Whitestorm meowed. “Yellowfang is a friend.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” murmured Bluestar, catching Firepaw’s eye.
Frostfur’s anxious meow sounded from the crowd. “Is Brokenstar dead?” she asked.
“No, he escaped,” Whitestorm told her. “But he will never lead ShadowClan again.”
Frostfur sighed in relief and returned to nuzzling her kits.
Whitestorm looked at Bluestar. “I promised ShadowClan we would leave them in peace until next
fullmoon,” he explained. “Brokenstar’s leadership has left their Clan in chaos.”
Bluestar nodded. “That was a wise and generous offer,” she meowed approvingly. The ThunderClan
leader walked past Whitestorm and the rest of the patrol and approached Yellowfang. Yellowfang lowered
her eyes as Bluestar touched the gray cat’s rough coat with her nose.
“Yellowfang, I wish you to replace Spottedleaf as medicine cat to ThunderClan,” Bluestar meowed.
“I’m sure you’ll find all her supplies as she left them.”
The other cats began to murmur to each other, tails flicking with excitement. Yellowfang looked around
at them anxiously and said nothing.
Frostfur glanced at the other queens before she met Yellowfang’s gaze and slowly nodded her approval.
Yellowfang bent her head respectfully to the white cat before addressing her new leader. “Thank you,
Bluestar. ShadowClan is not the Clan I once knew. ThunderClan is my Clan now.”
Firepaw felt a surge of satisfaction that the old she-cat he had come to love would be his Clan’s
medicine cat from now on. Then his tail dropped as he realized that he would never again find Spottedleaf in
her clearing, the sunlight gleaming on her soft fur, her amber eyes shining in welcome.
“Where’s Ravenpaw?” meowed Bluestar suddenly, jolting Firepaw out of his bittersweet
remembrances.
“Yes,” Tigerclaw chimed in, “where is my apprentice? Strange that he should disappear along with
Brokenstar.” He looked meaningfully around the Clan.
“If you think he might have been helping Brokenstar,” Firepaw meowed boldly, “then you are wrong!”
Tigerclaw stiffened, a menacing gleam in his yellow eyes.
“Ravenpaw is dead,” Firepaw went on, dropping his head as if weighed down with grief. “We found his
body in ShadowClan territory. From the scents around him, he must have been slain by a ShadowClan
patrol.” He looked at Bluestar. “I will tell you everything later,” he promised.
Yellowfang shot Firepaw a questioning look. Firepaw returned her gaze with a silent plea for her to hold
her tongue. She twitched her ears briefly in understanding and looked away.
“I never said that Ravenpaw was a traitor,” hissed Tigerclaw. He paused and allowed an expression of
sorrow to cloud his eyes before he turned to address the rest of the Clan. “Ravenpaw might have made a fine
warrior. His death has come too soon, and his loss will be felt by many of us for a long time.”
Empty words! thought Firepaw bitterly. What would Tigerclaw say if he knew that Ravenpaw was safe,
far beyond the forest, catching rats with Barley?
Bluestar broke the silence. “We will miss Ravenpaw, but we shall mourn him tomorrow. First there is
another ritual that must be performed—one, I know, that Ravenpaw would have taken pleasure in.” She
turned to Firepaw and Graypaw. “You have shown great courage tonight. Did they fight well, Whitestorm?”
she asked.
“Like warriors,” Whitestorm replied solemnly.
Bluestar met his yellow-eyed gaze and gave a slight nod. Then she lifted her chin and fixed her eyes on
Silverpelt’s swath of stars. Her voice rang out, clear and measured in the hushed woods. “I, Bluestar, leader
of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained
hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” She
looked down at Firepaw and Graypaw, narrowing her eyes. “Firepaw, Graypaw, do you promise to uphold
the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”
Firepaw felt something stir within him, a fire that burned in his belly and rang in his ears. He suddenly
felt that everything he had done for the Clan so far—all the prey he had stalked, all the enemy warriors he
had fought—had been for the sake of this single moment. “I do,” he replied steadily.
“I do,” echoed Graypaw, his fur bristling with excitement.
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names: Graypaw, from this moment you will
be known as Graystripe. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a full
warrior of ThunderClan.” Bluestar stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Graystripe’s bowed head.
He bent lower to give her shoulder a respectful lick, then straightened up and walked over to join the other
warriors.
Bluestar stood and studied Firepaw for a long moment before speaking. “Firepaw, from this moment
you will be known as Fireheart. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a
full warrior of ThunderClan.” She touched her muzzle to his head and murmured, “Fireheart, I am proud to
have you as my warrior. Serve your Clan well, young one.”
Fireheart’s muscles were trembling so much that he could hardly stoop to lick Bluestar’s shoulder. He
purred hoarsely to show his thanks, then slipped away to stand beside Graystripe.
Meows of tribute sounded from the crowd, and the voices of the Clan rose in the still night air to chant
the new warrior names. “Fireheart! Graystripe! Fireheart! Graystripe!”
Fireheart looked around the Clan, seeing faces that had grown so familiar over the last few moons. He
listened to them as they called his new name and felt overwhelmed by the kindness and respect he saw
shining in their eyes.
“It is almost moonhigh,” meowed Bluestar. “In the tradition of our ancestors, Fireheart and Graystripe
must sit in silent vigil until dawn, and guard the camp alone while we sleep.”
Fireheart and Graystripe nodded solemnly.
As the rest of the Clan began to melt away back to their dens, Tigerclaw pushed past Fireheart. The
ThunderClan deputy slowed as he passed and hissed quietly into his ear, “Don’t think you can outwit me,
kittypet. Be careful what you tell Bluestar.”
A cold shiver ran down Fireheart’s spine. Bluestar had to know about Tigerclaw’s treachery!
As Tigerclaw headed back to the warriors’ den, Fireheart left Graystripe sitting alone in the clearing and
bounded after Bluestar. He caught up with her outside her den. “Bluestar, I know I’m breaking the vow of
silence, but I must speak with you before I begin my vigil.”
Bluestar looked at Fireheart and shook her head. “This is an important ritual, Fireheart. You can speak
to me in the morning.”
Fireheart dipped his head in acceptance. Tigerclaw was not a problem that could be solved overnight
anyway. He returned to Graystripe’s side in the middle of the clearing. The two friends exchanged glances,
but said nothing.
Fireheart looked at the moon above his head. His orange coat glowed silver in the cold light. Around
him, the bushes and trees were draped in mist that brushed damply against his fur. Fireheart closed his eyes
and recalled the dreams of his kittenhood. The cool forest scents in his nostrils were real now, and the life of a
warrior stretched ahead of him. He felt unrestrained joy flood up from his paws and surge through his body.
Then he opened his eyes with a jolt. Another pair of eyes was shining back at him from the warriors’ den.
Tigerclaw!
Fireheart stared back without blinking. He was a warrior now. He had made an enemy of the Clan’s
deputy, but Tigerclaw had made an enemy of him. Fireheart was not the same naive young cat who had
joined the Clan all those moons ago. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and wiser. If he was destined to oppose
Tigerclaw, then so be it. Fireheart was ready for the challenge.
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