Into the Wild (14 page)

But Firepaw was thinking of something else. What was it Ravenpaw had said? That
Redtail
had killed Oakheart? But according to Tigerclaw, Oakheart had killed Redtail and he, Tigerclaw, had killed Oakheart in revenge.

“If Redtail killed Oakheart, who killed Redtail?” Firepaw hissed to Graypaw.

“If who did what?” Graypaw echoed absentmindedly. He was only half listening to Firepaw.

Firepaw shook his head to clear it.
Ravenpaw must have been mistaken
, he thought.
He must have meant Tigerclaw.

Ravenpaw was coming to the end of his story. “Finally, Redtail dragged the wailing cat off Tigerclaw by his tail and,
with the strength of the whole of TigerClan, flung him into the bushes.”

A moving shadow caught Firepaw's eye. He glanced around and saw Tigerclaw standing a short distance away. The warrior was watching Ravenpaw with an iron stare. Unaware of his mentor's presence, Ravenpaw continued to answer question after question from his enthusiastic audience.

“What were Oakheart's dying words?”

“Is it true that Oakheart had never lost a battle before?”

Ravenpaw replied promptly, with his voice high and clear and his eyes shining. But when Firepaw glanced back at Tigerclaw, he saw a look of horror and then fury creep over the warrior's face. Clearly Tigerclaw wasn't enjoying Ravenpaw's story at all.

Firepaw was just about to say something to Graypaw when a loud yowl signaled to all the cats for quiet. Firepaw couldn't help feeling relieved as Ravenpaw fell silent at last, and Tigerclaw turned away.

Firepaw looked up to see where the yowl had come from. Three cats sat silhouetted against the moonlit sky on top of the Great Rock. They were Bluestar, Brokenstar, and Crookedstar.

The Clan leaders were about to begin the meeting. But where was the WindClan leader?

“Surely they won't start the meeting without Tallstar?” Firepaw hissed under his breath.

“I don't know,” Graypaw muttered back.

“Haven't you noticed? There isn't a single WindClan cat
here,” whispered a RiverClan apprentice on the other side of Firepaw.

Firepaw guessed that similar conversations were going on all around him. As the other cats were gathering beneath the Great Rock, an unsettled murmuring rumbled in their throats.

“We can't start yet,” yowled one voice above the noise. “Where are the WindClan representatives? We must wait until all the Clans are present.”

On top of the rock, Bluestar stepped forward. Her gray fur glowed almost white in the moonlight. “Cats of all Clans, welcome,” she meowed in a clear voice. “It is true that WindClan is not present, but Brokenstar wishes to speak anyway.”

Brokenstar padded noiselessly up to stand beside Bluestar. He surveyed the crowd for a few moments, his orange eyes burning. Then he took a deep breath and began. “Friends, I come to speak to you tonight about the needs of ShadowClan—”

But he was interrupted by raised, impatient voices from below.

“Where is Tallstar?” cried one.

“Where are the WindClan warriors?” yowled another.

Brokenstar stretched up to his full height and lashed his tail from side to side. “As the leader of ShadowClan, it is my right to address you here!” he growled in a voice full of menace. The crowd fell into an uneasy silence. All around him, Firepaw could smell the acrid tang of fear.

Brokenstar yowled again. “We all know that the hard time
of leaf-bare, and late newleaf, have left us with little prey in our hunting grounds. But we also know that WindClan, RiverClan, and ThunderClan lost many kits in the freezing weather that came so late this season. ShadowClan did not lose kits. We are hardened to the cold north wind. Our kits are stronger than yours from the moment they are born. And so we find ourselves with many mouths to feed, and too little prey to feed them.”

The crowd, still silent, listened anxiously.

“The needs of ShadowClan are simple. In order to survive, we must increase our hunting territory. That is why I insist that you allow ShadowClan warriors to hunt in your territories.”

A shocked but muted growl rippled through the crowd.

“Share our hunting grounds?” called the outraged voice of Tigerclaw.

“It is unprecedented!” cried a tortoiseshell queen from RiverClan. “The Clans have never shared hunting rights!”

“Should ShadowClan be punished because our kits thrive?” yowled Brokenstar from the Great Rock. “Do you want us to watch our young starve? You
must
share what you have with us.”

“Must!”
spat Smallear furiously from the back of the crowd.

“Must,” repeated Brokenstar. “WindClan failed to understand this. In the end, we were forced to drive them out of their territory.”

Snarls of outrage burst from the crowd, but Brokenstar's caterwaul rang loud above them: “And, if we have to, we will
drive you all from your hunting grounds in order to feed our hungry kits.”

There was instant silence. On the other side of the clearing, Firepaw heard a RiverClan apprentice start to mutter something, but he was quickly hushed by an elder.

Satisfied that he had every cat's attention, Brokenstar continued. “Each year, the Twolegs spoil more of our territory. At least one Clan must remain strong, if all the Clans are to survive. ShadowClan thrives while you all struggle. And there may come a time when you will need us to protect you.”

“You doubt our strength?” hissed Tigerclaw. His pale eyes glared threateningly at the ShadowClan leader, and his powerful shoulders rippled with tension.

“I do not ask for your answer now.” Brokenstar ignored the warrior's challenge. “You must each go away and consider my words. But bear this in mind: Would you prefer to share your prey, or be driven out and left homeless and starving?”

Warriors, elders, and apprentices looked at one another in disbelief. In the anxious pause that followed, Crookedstar stepped forward. “I have already agreed to allow ShadowClan some hunting rights in the river that runs through our territory,” he meowed quietly, gazing down on his Clan.

Horror and humiliation rippled through the RiverClan cats at their leader's words.

“We were not consulted!” cried a grizzled silver tabby.

“I feel that this is best for our Clan. For all the Clans,” Crookedstar explained, his voice heavy with resignation. “There are plenty of fish in the river. It is better to share our
prey than to spill blood fighting over it.”

“And what of ThunderClan?” Smallear croaked. “Bluestar? Have you, too, agreed to this outrageous demand?”

Bluestar unwaveringly met the old cat's gaze. “I have made no agreement with Brokenstar except that I shall discuss his proposal with my Clan after the Gathering.”

“Well, at least that's something,” muttered Graypaw in Firepaw's ear. “We'll show them we're not as soft as that yellow-bellied RiverClan.”

Brokenstar spoke up again, his rasping voice sounding arrogant and strong after Crookedstar's surrender. “I also bring news that is important to the safety of your kits. A ShadowClan cat has turned rogue and spurned the warrior code. We chased her out of our camp, but we do not know where she is now. She looks like a mangy old creature, but she has a bite like TigerClan.”

Firepaw's fur bristled. Could Brokenstar possibly be talking about Yellowfang? He pricked up his ears, curious to hear more.

“She is dangerous. I warn you—do not offer shelter to her. And”—Brokenstar paused dramatically—“until she is caught and killed, I urge you to keep a close eye on your kits.”

Firepaw knew from the nervous growl that rumbled in the throats of the ThunderClan cats that they, too, had thought of Yellowfang. The bold she-cat had done nothing to endear herself to her reluctant hosts, and Firepaw guessed it wouldn't take much to drum up hatred against her—even the words of a despised enemy like Brokenstar would be enough.

The ShadowClan warriors began to push their way out of the throng of cats. Brokenstar leaped down from the rock, and his warriors immediately surrounded him and escorted him away from Fourtrees, back into ShadowClan territory. The remaining ShadowClan cats followed quickly behind, including the undersize tabby Lionheart had questioned earlier. But among the other ShadowClan apprentices, the tabby no longer looked unusually small—they all looked tiny and undernourished, more like kits of three or four moons than full-fledged apprentices.

“What do you think of all that?” Graypaw mewed in a low voice.

Ravenpaw bounded over before Firepaw could reply. “What's going to happen now?” he wailed, his fur fluffed up in alarm and his eyes wider than ever.

Firepaw didn't answer. The elders of ThunderClan were gathering nearby, and he was straining to hear what they were saying.

“That must be Yellowfang he was talking about,” growled Smallear.

“Well, she did snap at Goldenflower's youngest kit the other day,” murmured Speckletail darkly. She was the oldest nursery queen, and fiercely protective of all the kits.

“And we've left her behind, with the camp virtually unguarded!” wailed One-eye, who for once seemed to be having no trouble hearing everything.

“I tried to tell you she was a danger to us,” hissed Darkstripe. “Bluestar has to listen to reason now and get rid of her
before she harms any of our young!”

Tigerclaw strode up to the group. “We must return to camp at once and deal with this rogue!” he yowled.

Firepaw didn't stop to hear more. His mind was spinning. Loyal as he was to his Clan, he just couldn't believe that Yellowfang would be a danger to kits. Frightened for the old she-cat, burning with questions only she could answer, he raced away from Graypaw and Ravenpaw without a word.

He charged up the hillside and pelted through the forest. Had he been mistaken about Yellowfang? If he warned her about the danger she was in, would he be risking his own position in ThunderClan? Whatever trouble he got himself into, he had to find out the truth from her before the other cats got back to the camp.

Firepaw reached the edge of the
ravine and looked down at the camp. He was panting and his paws were slippery with dew. He sniffed the air. He was alone. There was still time to speak to Yellowfang before the others returned from the Gathering. Silently, he jumped down the rocky slope and slipped through the gorse tunnel unnoticed.

The camp was still and quiet, apart from the muted snuffles of sleeping cats. Firepaw quickly crept around the edge of the clearing to Yellowfang's nest. The old medicine cat was curled on top of her mossy bedding.

“Yellowfang,” he hissed urgently. “Yellowfang! Wake up; it's important!”

Two orange eyes opened and glinted in the moonlight. “I wasn't sleeping,” meowed Yellowfang quietly. She sounded calm and alert. “You came straight from the Gathering to me? That must mean you've heard.” She blinked slowly and looked away. “So Brokenstar kept his promise.”

“What promise?” Firepaw felt very confused. Yellowfang seemed to know more than he did about what was going on.

“ShadowClan's noble leader promised to drive me from
every Clan territory,” Yellowfang replied dryly. “What did he say about me?”

“He warned us that our kits were in danger as long as we sheltered the ShadowClan rogue. He didn't say your name, but ThunderClan guessed who he was talking about. You must leave before the others get back. You are in danger!”

“You mean they believed Brokenstar?” Yellowfang flattened her ears and swished her tail angrily.

“Yes!” Firepaw meowed urgently. “Darkstripe says you're dangerous. The other cats are scared of what you might do. Tigerclaw is planning to come back and . . . I don't know. . . .  I think you should go before they get here!”

In the distance Firepaw could hear the yowls of angry cats. Yellowfang struggled stiffly to her paws. Firepaw gave her a nudge to help her up, his mind still spinning with questions. “What did Brokenstar mean when he warned us to keep a close eye on our kits?” he couldn't stop himself from asking. “Would you really do something like that?”

“Would I
what
?”

“Would you harm our kits?”

Yellowfang flared her nostrils and looked steadily at him. “Do
you
think so?”

Firepaw met her gaze without flinching. “No. I don't believe you would ever harm a kit. But why would Brokenstar say such a thing?”

The noise of the cats was coming nearer, and with it, the scents of aggression and anger. Yellowfang looked wildly from side to side.

“Go!”
Firepaw urged. Her safety was more important than his curiosity.

But Yellowfang remained where she was and stared at him. A calm look suddenly came into her wide eyes. “Firepaw, you believe I'm innocent, and I'm grateful for that. If
you
believe me, then others might. And I know Bluestar will give me a fair hearing. I can't run forever. I'm too old. I shall stay here and face whatever your Clan decides for me.” She sighed and sank down onto her bony haunches.

“But what about Tigerclaw? What if he—”

“He is headstrong, and he knows the power he has over the other Clan cats—they are in awe of him. But even he will obey Bluestar.”

Rustling in the undergrowth beyond the camp boundary told Firepaw that the cats were almost at the entrance.

“Go away, Firepaw,” hissed Yellowfang, baring her blackened teeth at him. “Don't make trouble for yourself by being seen with me now. There is nothing you can do for me. Have faith in your leader, and let her decide what happens to me.”

Firepaw realized Yellowfang had made up her mind. He touched his nose to her patchy fur, then crept silently away into the shadows to watch.

Through the gorse came the cats—Bluestar first, accompanied by Lionheart. Frostfur and Willowpelt were right behind them. Frostfur raced away from the troop immediately and ran toward the nursery, the fur on her tail bristling in alarm. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe strode into the clearing, shoulder to shoulder, looking grim. The others followed behind, with
Ravenpaw and Graypaw at the rear. As soon as he saw his friends, Firepaw trotted out to join them.

“You went to warn Yellowfang, didn't you?” whispered Graypaw when Firepaw reached his side.

“Yes, I did,” Firepaw admitted. “But she won't leave. She trusts Bluestar to treat her fairly. Did anyone miss me?”

“Only us,” replied Ravenpaw.

Around the camp, the cats who had stayed behind began to wake up. They must have scented the aggression and heard the tension in the voices of the returning cats, for they all came running into the clearing, their tails held high.

“What has happened?” called a tabby warrior named Runningwind.

“Brokenstar has demanded hunting rights for ShadowClan in our territory!” replied Longtail loudly enough for all the cats to hear.

“And he warned us about a rogue cat who will harm our kits!” added Willowpelt. “It must be Yellowfang!”

Meows of anger and distress rose from the crowd.

“Silence!” ordered Bluestar, leaping onto the Highrock. Instinctively, the cats settled in front of her.

A loud screech made every cat turn its head toward the fallen tree where the elders slept. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were dragging Yellowfang roughly from her nest. She shrieked furiously as they hauled her into the clearing and dumped her in front of the Highrock. Firepaw felt every muscle in his body tense. Without thinking, he dropped into a low crouch, ready to spring at Yellowfang's persecutors.

“Wait, Firepaw,” growled Graypaw in his ear. “Let Bluestar deal with this.”

“What is going on?” demanded Bluestar, jumping down from the Highrock and glaring at her warriors. “I gave no order to attack our prisoner.”

Tigerclaw and Darkstripe instantly let go of Yellowfang, who crouched in the dust, hissing and spitting.

Frostfur appeared from the nursery and pushed her way through to the front of the Clan. “We got back in time,” she meowed with a gasp. “The kits are safe!”

“Of course they are!” snapped Bluestar.

Frostfur seemed taken aback. “But . . . you
are
going to throw Yellowfang out, aren't you?” she meowed, her blue eyes wide.

“Throw her out?” spat Darkstripe, unleashing his claws. “We should kill her now!”

Bluestar fixed her piercing blue eyes on Darkstripe's angry face. “And what has she done?” she asked with icy calm.

Firepaw held his breath.

“You were at the Gathering! Brokenstar said she—” Darkstripe began.

“Brokenstar said only that there is a rogue somewhere in the woods,” meowed Bluestar, her voice menacingly quiet. “He did not mention Yellowfang by name. The kits are safe. For as long as she is in my Clan, Yellowfang will not be harmed in any way.”

Bluestar's words were met with silence, and Firepaw heaved a sigh of relief.

Yellowfang looked up at Bluestar and narrowed her eyes respectfully. “I will leave now, if you wish it, Bluestar.”

“There is no need,” Bluestar replied. “You have done nothing wrong. You will be safe here.” The ThunderClan leader lifted her gaze to the crowd of cats that surrounded Yellowfang and meowed, “It is time we discussed the real threat to our Clan: Brokenstar. We have already begun to prepare for an attack by ShadowClan,” Bluestar began. “We'll carry on with those preparations, and patrol our borders more frequently. WindClan has gone. RiverClan has given hunting rights to ShadowClan warriors. ThunderClan stands alone against Brokenstar.”

A murmur of defiance rippled through the cats, and Firepaw felt his fur prickle with anticipation.

“Then we're not going to agree to Brokenstar's demands?” meowed Tigerclaw.

“Clans have never shared hunting rights before,” Bluestar answered. “They have always managed to support themselves in their own territories. There is no reason why this should change.” Tigerclaw nodded approvingly.

“But can we defend ourselves against a ShadowClan attack?” asked Smallear's tremulous voice. “WindClan didn't manage it! RiverClan won't even try!”

Bluestar met his old eyes with her steady gaze. “We must try. We will not give up our territory without a fight.”

All around the clearing, Firepaw saw the cats nodding in agreement.

“I shall travel to the Moonstone tomorrow,” Bluestar announced. “The warriors of StarClan will give me the
strength I need to lead ThunderClan through this dark time. You must all get some rest. We have a lot to do when daylight comes. I wish to talk with Lionheart now.” Without another word, she turned and strode toward her den.

Firepaw noticed the look of wonder that had entered the eyes of some of the cats when Bluestar had mentioned the Moonstone. Now the Clan cats hurriedly gathered in groups, meowing in hushed voices full of excitement.

“What's the Moonstone?” Firepaw asked Graypaw.

“It's a rock deep underground that shines in the dark,” whispered Graypaw. His voice was hoarse with awe. “All Clan leaders have to spend one night at the Moonstone when they are first chosen. There, the spirits of StarClan share with them.”

“Share
what
with them?”

Graypaw frowned. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I know only that the new leaders have to sleep near the stone, and as they sleep, they have special dreams. After that, they have the gift of nine lives, and take the name ‘star.'”

Firepaw watched Yellowfang limp back to her shadowy nest. It looked like Tigerclaw's rough treatment had aggravated her old injury. As he trotted back to the apprentices' den, Firepaw decided to ask Spottedleaf for more poppy seeds in the morning.

“So what happened?” mewed Dustpaw eagerly, popping his head out of the den. He seemed to have forgotten how much he resented the new apprentice in his eagerness to hear about the Gathering.

“It's like Longtail said. Brokenstar demanded hunting
rights. . . . ” Graypaw began.

Sandpaw and Dustpaw sat and listened, but Firepaw was watching the camp. He could see the silhouettes of Bluestar and Lionheart sitting close together outside her den, talking urgently.

Then he noticed the small shape of Ravenpaw at the entrance to the warriors' den. Tigerclaw stood beside him. Firepaw saw Ravenpaw's ears flatten as the young cat flinched away from Tigerclaw's fierce words. The dark warrior loomed over him, twice his size, his eyes and teeth flashing in the moonlight. What was he saying to Ravenpaw? Firepaw was just about to creep nearer and listen when Ravenpaw backed away, turned, and ran across the clearing.

Firepaw greeted Ravenpaw as he reached the apprentice's den, but Ravenpaw hardly seemed to notice him. Instead, he pushed his way inside the den without a word.

Firepaw got up to follow him when he saw Lionheart approaching.

“Well,” meowed the ThunderClan deputy, striding up to the apprentices. “It seems that Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw are about to reach another important stage in their training.”

“What's that?” mewed Graypaw, looking excited.

“Bluestar wishes you three to accompany her on her journey to the Moonstone!” Lionheart didn't miss the look of disappointment on the faces of Dustpaw and Sandpaw, because he added, “Don't worry, you two; you'll make the journey soon enough. For now, ThunderClan needs your strength and skill at the camp. I will remain here also.”

Firepaw looked past Lionheart to his leader. She was moving from one group of warriors to another, meowing instructions to each. Why had she chosen him for this journey? he wondered.

“She wants you to rest now,” Lionheart continued. “But first go to Spottedleaf and collect the herbs you will need on this expedition. It's a long way. You will need something to give you strength and quell your appetite. There will be little time for catching prey.”

Graypaw nodded, and Firepaw dragged his gaze away from Bluestar and nodded too.

“Where is Ravenpaw?” asked Lionheart.