Warriors 04 - Rising Storm (5 page)

Soft paws padded through Fireheart's dreams
that night. A tortoiseshell she-cat emerged from the forest beside him, her amber eyes glowing. Fireheart gazed at Spottedleaf and felt the familiar ache in his heart. The pain of the medicine cat's death, so many moons ago, was as raw as ever. He waited eagerly for her gentle greeting, but this time Spottedleaf didn't press her nose to his cheek as she usually did. Instead she turned from him and walked away. Surprised Fireheart began to follow, breaking into a run to chase the dappled cat through the woods. He called out to her, but even though her pace hadn't seemed to quicken, she stayed ahead of him, deaf to his cries.

Without warning, a dark gray shape loomed out from behind a tree. It was Bluestar, and the eyes of the ThunderClan leader were wide with fear. Fireheart swerved to avoid her, desperately trying to keep Spottedleaf in sight, but then Cloudpaw leaped at him from the ferns that lined the other side of the path, knocking him over. Lying winded for a moment, Fireheart could feel Whitestorm's eyes burning through his fur as the white warrior watched him from the branches of a tree.

Fireheart scrambled to his paws and raced after Spottedleaf
once more. She was still several fox-lengths ahead, padding steadily on without even turning to see who called her. Now the rest of ThunderClan had gathered along Fireheart's path. As he dodged and weaved through them, they called out to him—he couldn't make out their words, but their voices formed a deafening chorus of mews, questioning, criticizing, begging for help. The meows grew louder and louder until they drowned out his own cry so that even if she were listening, Spottedleaf could not have heard.

“Fireheart!” One voice sounded above the others. It was Whitestorm. “Mousefur and Longtail are waiting to leave. Wake up, Fireheart!”

Half-dreaming, clouded with sleep, Fireheart pulled himself to his paws. “W-what?” he meowed groggily.

Early morning light was streaming into the warriors' den. Whitestorm stood beside him in the empty nest where Graystripe used to sleep. “The patrol is waiting,” he repeated. “And Bluestar wants to see you before you go.”

Fireheart shook his head to clear his mind. The dream had frightened him. Spottedleaf had always been closer to him in dreams than she had been even in life. Her behavior last night stung like the bite of an adder. Was the gentle medicine cat abandoning him?

Fireheart leaned back to stretch, his legs trembling beneath him. “Tell Mousefur and Longtail I'll be as quick as I can.” He slipped quickly past the slumbering bodies of the other warriors. Brindleface was sleeping near the wall of the den with Frostfur curled beside her; both she-cats had
returned to their lives as warriors now that their kits had left the nursery.

Fireheart pushed his way out into the clearing. It was already warm even though the sun had not yet risen over the treetops, and the woods looked green and inviting at the top of the ravine. As he sniffed the familiar scents of the forest, the pain of Fireheart's dream began to fade, and he felt his fur relax on his shoulders.

Longtail and Mousefur were waiting at the camp entrance. Fireheart nodded to them as he headed toward Bluestar's den. What could the ThunderClan leader want so early in the day? Did she have a special mission for him? Fireheart couldn't help feeling it was a sign that Bluestar was feeling more like her old self, and he called a cheerful greeting through the lichen.

“Come in!” The Clan leader sounded excited, and Fireheart's hopes soared. Inside, Bluestar was pacing up and down the sandy floor. She didn't stop when Fireheart entered, and he had to press himself against the wall to keep out of her way.

“Fireheart,” she began without looking at him. “I need to share dreams with StarClan. I must travel to the Moonstone.” The Moonstone was a glittering rock that lay deep underground beyond WindClan territory, where the sun set.

“You want to go to Highstones?” Fireheart exclaimed, surprised.

“Do you know of another Moonstone?” retorted Bluestar impatiently. She was still pacing, her paws echoing in the den.

“But it's such a long way; are you sure you're up to it?” Fireheart stammered.

“I must speak with StarClan!” Bluestar insisted. She stopped dead and narrowed her eyes at her deputy. “And I want you to come. Whitestorm can take charge while we're gone.”

Fireheart's unease was growing rapidly. “Who else is coming with us?”

“No one,” answered Bluestar grimly.

Fireheart shivered. He felt bewildered by the dark intensity in Bluestar's tone; it sounded as if she thought her life depended on making this journey. “But isn't it a bit dangerous to travel by ourselves?” he ventured.

Bluestar turned an icy gaze on Fireheart. His mouth turned dry as the she-cat hissed at him, “You want to bring others? Why?”

Fireheart tried to keep his voice steady. “What if we're attacked?”

“You will protect me,” Bluestar rasped in a low whisper. “Won't you?”

“With my life!” Fireheart promised solemnly. No matter what he thought about Bluestar's behavior, his loyalty to his leader was unshaken.

His words seemed to reassure Bluestar, and she sat down in front of him. “Good.”

Fireheart tipped his head to one side. “But what about the threat from WindClan and ShadowClan?” he meowed hesitantly. “You mentioned it yourself yesterday.”

Bluestar nodded slowly. Fireheart went on; “We'd have to
travel through WindClan's territory to get to Highstones.”

Bluestar leaped to her paws. “I
must
speak with StarClan,” she spat, the fur on her shoulders bristling. “Why are you trying to dissuade me? Either you come with me or I will go alone!”

Fireheart looked back at her. He had no choice. “I'll come,” he agreed.

“Good.” Bluestar nodded again, her voice softening a little. “We'll need traveling herbs to keep our strength up. I'll go and see Yellowfang about them.” She swept past Fireheart and pushed her way out of the cave.

“Are we going
now
?” Fireheart called.

“Yes,” Bluestar replied, without stopping.

Fireheart bounded out of the den after her. “But I'm meant to lead the dawn patrol,” he protested.

“Send them off without you,” ordered Bluestar.

“Okay.” Fireheart stopped and watched the she-cat disappear into the ferns that led to Yellowfang's clearing. He felt very uneasy as he padded toward the camp entrance where Longtail and Mousefur were waiting. Longtail was flicking his tail impatiently, while Mousefur had settled onto her belly and watched Fireheart approach through half-closed eyes.

“What's going on?” Longtail demanded. “Why's Bluestar going to see Yellowfang? Is she okay?”

“She's going to get traveling herbs. Bluestar needs to share with StarClan, so we're going to the Moonstone,” Fireheart explained.

“That's a long way,” remarked Mousefur, slowly sitting up.
“Is it wise? Bluestar's probably still weak from the rogue cats' attack.” Fireheart couldn't help noticing that she tactfully avoided mentioning Tigerclaw's part in the attack.

“She told me that StarClan has summoned her,” he answered.

“Who else is going?” asked Longtail.

“Just me and Bluestar.”

“I'll come too, if you like,” offered Mousefur.

Fireheart shook his head regretfully.

Longtail's mouth twisted into a sneer. “You think you can protect her alone, do you? You may be deputy, but you're no Tigerclaw!” he hissed.

“And it's a good thing he's not!” Relief washed over Fireheart as he heard Whitestorm's voice behind him. The white warrior must have heard the whole conversation, because he went on: “Fireheart and Bluestar are less likely to be noticed if they travel together like this. Quite apart from the fact that they're allowed safe passage to Highstones anyway, they're more likely to appear like a raiding party to WindClan if there's more than two of them.”

Mousefur nodded, but Longtail turned his head away. Fireheart blinked gratefully at Whitestorm.

“Yellowfang!” Bluestar's agitated meow sounded from the medicine cat's den.

“Go to her,” meowed Whitestorm quietly. “I'll lead the patrol.”

“But Bluestar wants you to take charge of the Clan while we're gone,” Fireheart told him.

“In that case, I'll stay here and organize today's hunting parties. Mousefur can lead the patrol.”

“Yes,” agreed Fireheart, trying not to show how flustered he felt. He turned to Mousefur. “Take Thornpaw with you,” he ordered.

Mousefur dipped her head as Fireheart turned and ran across the clearing to the medicine cat's den.

“I suppose you'll be wanting some traveling herbs too,” remarked Yellowfang as Fireheart emerged from the tunnel. The old medicine cat was sitting calmly in the clearing while Bluestar paced restlessly around, lost in her own thoughts.

“Yes, please,” answered Fireheart.

Cinderpelt limped out of the den in the split rock and made straight for Yellowfang without stopping to greet Fireheart. “Which one is chamomile?” she whispered into the medicine cat's ragged ear.

“You must know that by now!” Yellowfang hissed crossly.

Cinderpelt's ears twitched. “I thought I knew, and then I wasn't sure. I just thought I'd check.”

Yellowfang snorted, heaved herself to her paws, and went over to the foot of the rock, where several small piles of herbs were lying in a row.

Fireheart glanced at Bluestar. She had stopped pacing and was staring up at the sky, warily sniffing the air. Fireheart padded after Yellowfang. “Chamomile's not a traveling herb,” he meowed under his breath.

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes. “Bluestar needs something
to soothe her heart as well as to give her physical strength.” She glanced scathingly at Cinderpelt and added, “I was hoping to add it to the traveling herbs without telling the whole camp!” She pushed one of the piles with a heavy paw. “That's chamomile.”

“Yes, I remember now,” Cinderpelt mewed meekly.

“You shouldn't have forgotten in the first place,” scolded Yellowfang. “A medicine cat has no time for doubt. Put your energy into
today
and stop worrying about the past. You have a duty to your Clan. Stop dithering and get on with it!”

Fireheart couldn't help feeling sorry for the young cat. He tried to catch her eye, but Cinderpelt wouldn't look at him. Instead she busied herself with preparing the traveling concoction, pawing small amounts from each pile of herbs and mixing them together while Yellowfang watched with a concerned frown.

Behind them Bluestar had begun to pace the clearing again. “Aren't they ready yet?” she meowed irritably.

Fireheart padded over to Bluestar's side. “Nearly,” he told her. “Don't worry. We'll make it to Highstones by sunset.” Bluestar blinked at him as Cinderpelt limped up with a bundle of herbs.

“These are yours,” she mewed, dropping the mixed leaves at Bluestar's paws. She jerked her head toward the rock. “Yours are over there,” she told Fireheart.

He was still swallowing to wash the bitter taste of the herbs from his mouth when Bluestar headed out of the clearing,
nodding to Fireheart to follow her. Around them, the camp was beginning to stir. Willowpelt had just squeezed out of the nursery and was blinking in the bright sunlight, while Patchpelt was stretching his old limbs in front of the fallen oak. Both cats glanced curiously at Bluestar and Fireheart, then carried on with their morning routine.

“Hey!”

Fireheart heard a familiar voice behind him and his heart sank. It was Cloudpaw, scampering out of his den with his fur standing on end, ungroomed after a night's sleep. “Where are you going? Can I come?”

Fireheart paused at the tunnel entrance. “Don't you have a pigeon to collect?”

“The pigeon can wait. I bet some owl's flown off with it by now anyway,” answered Cloudpaw. “Let me come with you, please!”

“Owls eat
live
prey,” Fireheart corrected him. He caught sight of Runningwind padding sleepily out of the warriors' den and called across the clearing to the brown tom. “Runningwind, will you take Cloudpaw hunting this morning?” He caught a flash of resentment in the warrior's eyes as Runningwind nodded unenthusiastically. Fireheart remembered how willingly Runningwind had taken Thornpaw out to catch squirrels the day before; clearly the warrior wasn't as fond of Cloudpaw, and frankly Fireheart didn't blame him. His apprentice wasn't trying hard enough to earn the respect of these Clan cats.

“That's not fair,” whined Cloudpaw. “I went hunting yesterday. Can't I come with you?”

“No. Today you will hunt with Runningwind!” Fireheart snapped. Before Cloudpaw could argue any more, he turned and raced after Bluestar.

The ThunderClan leader had reached the
top of the ravine by the time Fireheart caught up with her. She paused to sniff the air before padding into the forest. Fireheart noticed with relief how relaxed she seemed now that they were out of the camp, nosing her way through the undergrowth toward the RiverClan border.

Fireheart glanced in surprise at the she-cat. This wasn't the quickest route to Fourtrees and the uplands beyond, but he didn't question her. He couldn't help feeling excited at the thought that he might catch a glimpse of Graystripe across the river.

The two cats met the RiverClan border above Sunningrocks and followed the scent markers upriver. A warm breeze carried the faint heather scent of the moor down to them. Fireheart could hear the river flowing past on the other side of the ferns. He craned his neck and saw the water glimmering in the dappled light under the trees. Above his head the leaves glowed green and flashed at the edges where the sunlight pierced the thick roof of the forest. Even in the shade, Fireheart felt hot. He wished he could plunge into the
water like a RiverClan cat, to cool himself down.

Finally the river bent away, deeper into RiverClan territory, and Bluestar carried straight on, following the markers along the border between ThunderClan and RiverClan. Fireheart couldn't stop glancing across the scentline, searching the woods beyond for any sign of RiverClan cats, wary of being spotted by a patrol but ever hopeful of seeing his old friend. Bluestar was leading them recklessly close to the border, even crossing it occasionally as they weaved through the undergrowth. Fireheart had no idea how RiverClan would react if they found them here. The two Clans had nearly come to conflict over Silverstream's kits, and battle was averted only when Graystripe took his kits back to their mother's Clan.

Suddenly Bluestar stopped and lifted her muzzle, opening her mouth to taste the air. She dropped into a crouch, and Fireheart, trusting Bluestar's warrior instincts, flattened himself too, ducking behind a patch of nettles.

“RiverClan warriors,” Bluestar warned in a whisper.

Fireheart could smell them now. He felt his hackles rising as the scent grew stronger and he heard the swish of fur disturbing the undergrowth ahead of them. He raised his head very slowly and peered through the trees, his heart thumping as he searched for a familiar gray pelt. Beside him, Bluestar's eyes were wide and her flanks barely moved as she took silent, shallow breaths.
Was she hoping to see Graystripe too?
Fireheart wondered. It hadn't occurred to him before now that Bluestar might also want to run into some RiverClan cats. It would certainly explain why she had come this way.

But Fireheart couldn't believe that it was Graystripe she wanted to see. Yesterday, in her confusion, she'd forgotten that the gray warrior had left the Clan, and Fireheart sensed that Bluestar's mind was spinning with other thoughts. Then it hit him like a fledgling dropping into his paws: her kits. Many moons ago, the ThunderClan leader had given birth to two kits that had been raised in RiverClan. She'd entrusted them to their RiverClan father when they were barely old enough to leave their nest. Bluestar's ambition and loyalty to her Clan had made it impossible for her to raise the kits herself. Now they lived as RiverClan warriors, unaware that their real mother came from ThunderClan. But Bluestar had never forgotten them, although only Fireheart knew her secret. It must be Stonefur and Mistyfoot that Bluestar was scanning the undergrowth for.

A glimpse of tawny mottled fur in the distance made Fireheart duck down again. That wasn't Graystripe, or either of Bluestar's offspring. A vaguely familiar scent confirmed to Fireheart the identity of the warrior. It was Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy.

Fireheart glanced at Bluestar; she still had her head up, peering through the trees. The rustling of ferns warned Fireheart that Leopardfur was getting nearer. He felt his breath quicken. What would happen if she saw the ThunderClan leader so close to the RiverClan border?

Fireheart froze as the rustling in the bushes grew louder. He heard the RiverClan deputy stop, and her silence told him she had detected something. Staring desperately at Bluestar
he was about to signal to her with his tail when she dropped her head and hissed in his ear, “Come on; we'd better head deeper into our own territory.”

Fireheart sighed with relief as the ThunderClan leader crept silently away. Keeping his ears flat and his belly to the ground, Fireheart followed her away from the scent markers and into the safety of ThunderClan's woods.

“That Leopardfur moves so loudly, I should think even ShadowClan heard her coming,” remarked Bluestar once they were away from the border. Fireheart's whiskers quivered with surprise. He had begun to wonder if Bluestar had forgotten how fiercely the Clans defended their boundaries, especially in these difficult times.

“She's a good warrior, but too easily distracted,” Bluestar went on calmly. “She was more interested in that rabbit upwind than looking for enemy warriors.”

Fireheart couldn't help feeling cheered by his leader's confidence. Now that he thought about it, there had been the scent of rabbit on the breeze, but he'd been too worried about Leopardfur to take any notice of it.

“This reminds me of the days I used to take you for training,” purred Bluestar as she padded through the sun-dappled woods.

Fireheart ran to catch up with her. “Me too,” he replied.

“You were a fast learner. I chose well when I invited you into my Clan,” Bluestar murmured. She looked back over her shoulder at Fireheart, and he saw pride in her eyes. He blinked gratefully at her.

“All the Clans have much to thank you for,” Bluestar continued. “You drove Brokentail out of ShadowClan, brought WindClan home from exile, helped RiverClan when they were flooded, and saved ThunderClan from Tigerclaw.” Fireheart began to feel a little overwhelmed by her praise as she went on: “No other warrior has your sense of fairness or loyalty or courage….”

Fireheart's fur pricked uneasily. “But all the ThunderClan cats respect the warrior code as I do,” he pointed out. “Every one of them would sacrifice themselves to protect you and the Clan.”

Bluestar stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Fireheart. “You are the only cat who dared oppose Tigerclaw,” she reminded him.

“But I was the only one who knew that he killed Redtail!” Fireheart had still been an apprentice when he had found out that the ThunderClan warrior had been responsible for the death of Bluestar's loyal deputy. But he had been unable to prove Tigerclaw's murderous secret until the traitor had led the rogue cats against his own Clan.

A fiery resentment flashed in Bluestar's eyes. “Graystripe knew too. It was only you who saved me!”

Fireheart looked away, lost for words. His ears twitched uncomfortably. It looked as if Bluestar didn't trust any of her warriors except him and maybe Whitestorm. Fireheart realized that Tigerclaw had done more damage than any of the Clan could possibly imagine. The dark warrior had
poisoned their leader's judgment and drained away all her confidence in her warriors.

“Come on!” snapped Bluestar.

Fireheart watched the gray she-cat stalk away through the forest, her shoulders stiff and her tail fluffed up. He shivered. Although the sky was still bright overhead, he felt as if a black cloud had blotted out the sun and cast an ominous shadow over their journey.

They reached Fourtrees as the sun broke through the leaves at the top of the trees. Fireheart followed Bluestar down the slope into the valley, where the four great oaks stood, guarding the place where the Clans met each full moon under a single night's truce. The two cats passed the Great Rock where the leaders of each Clan stood to address the Gathering, and headed up the far side of the valley.

As the grassy hill turned steeper and rockier, Fireheart noticed that Bluestar was struggling to keep up the pace. She grunted each time she jumped onto the next rock, and Fireheart had to slow down so that he didn't pass her.

At the top of the slope, Bluestar stopped and sat down, wheezing.

“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.

“Not so young…” panted Bluestar.

Fireheart felt a pang of worry. He had assumed that her physical injuries from the battle had healed. Where had this sudden weakness come from? It made her seem older and more vulnerable than ever.
Perhaps it's just climbing in this heat,
he
thought hopefully.
After all, her pelt is thicker than mine.

While Bluestar caught her breath, Fireheart peered nervously across the stunted gorse and heather that covered the uplands. This was WindClan territory, stretching away from them under the cloudless sky. He felt even uneasier here than on the RiverClan border. WindClan was still angry with ThunderClan because they had given sanctuary to the former ShadowClan leader, and it was Bluestar herself who had decided to take in the blinded Brokentail. What would a WindClan patrol do if they found the ThunderClan leader on their territory, with only one warrior to guard her? Fireheart wasn't sure if he could protect his leader against a whole patrol.

“We must be careful not to be spotted,” he whispered.

“What did you say?” called Bluestar. The breeze was stronger up here, and even though it did nothing to ease the sun's burning heat, it carried Fireheart's words away.

“We must be careful they don't see us!” Fireheart reluctantly raised his voice.

“Why?” Bluestar demanded. “We're traveling to the Moonstone. StarClan has granted us the right to travel safely!”

Fireheart realized it would be a waste of time to argue. “I'll lead the way,” he offered.

He knew the uplands well, better than most ThunderClan cats. He'd been here many times before, but he'd never felt as exposed and vulnerable as he did now. Quickly he led
Bluestar into the sea of heather, praying that StarClan had as much belief in their right to travel here as Bluestar did, and that their warrior ancestors would protect them from any passing WindClan patrols. He also hoped that Bluestar had enough sense to keep her ears and tail low.

The sun was reaching its highest point as they neared the swathe of gorse at the heart of WindClan's territory. Fourtrees was far behind them, but there was still a long way to go before they reached the slope at the edge of the moor that ran down into Twoleg farmland. Fireheart paused. A hot breeze was blowing toward him, as stifling as the breath of a sick cat, and he knew their scent would be carried back through WindClan territory. He just hoped the perfume of the honey-rich heather would mask it. Beside him, Bluestar signaled with a flick of her tail and vanished into the gorse.

An angry yowl sounded from behind them. Fireheart spun around and backed away, wincing as the gorse pricked his haunches. Three WindClan cats faced him, their fur bristling and their ears flattened.

“Intruders. Why are you here?” hissed a mottled dark brown tabby. Fireheart recognized Mudclaw, one of the senior warriors. A gray tabby warrior called Tornear was beside him, his back arched and his claws unsheathed. Fireheart had grown to know and respect these cats when he had escorted WindClan back from their exile in Twoleg territory, but all traces of their former alliance had vanished
now. He didn't recognize the smallest cat—an apprentice, perhaps, but every bit as fierce-looking and wiry as his Clanmates.

The fur rose along Fireheart's spine and his heart began to pound, but he tried to stay calm. “We're just traveling through—” he began.

“You are on our land,” spat Mudclaw. His eyes shone angrily as he stared at Fireheart.

Where was Bluestar?
Fireheart thought desperately, half wanting her support, half hoping she hadn't heard Mudclaw's yowl and was heading safely through the gorse toward Twoleg territory.

A snarl at his side told him she had returned for him. He glanced quickly to see Bluestar standing at the edge of the gorse with her head held high and her eyes blazing with fury. “We are traveling to Highstones. StarClan grants us safe passage. You have no right to stop us!”

Mudclaw didn't flinch. “You gave up your rights to StarClan's protection when you took Brokentail into your Clan!” he retorted.

Fireheart could understand the WindClan cats' anger. He had seen for himself the misery they had endured when they were driven out by Brokentail's Clan warriors. With a surge of pity he remembered the tiny WindClan kit he'd helped to carry home—it had been the only one of its litter to survive. The former ShadowClan leader had nearly destroyed the Clan with his cruelty.

Fireheart stared into Mudclaw's fierce gaze. “Brokentail is dead,” he told him.

Mudclaw's eyes glittered. “You killed him?” he demanded.

As Fireheart hesitated, Bluestar growled menacingly from his side. “Of course we didn't kill him. ThunderClan aren't murderers.”

“No,” Mudclaw spat back. “You just protect them!” The WindClan warrior arched his back aggressively.

Disappointed, Fireheart felt his mind whirl as he tried to think of another way to convince WindClan.

“You will let us pass!” Bluestar hissed. Fireheart froze as he saw his leader flexing her claws and raising her hackles, ready to attack.