Warriors 03 - Forest of Secrets (13 page)

As he plunged into the stream
Fireheart managed to keep one clawhold on the branch. He felt as if he were fighting a spiky wooden enemy, twigs that lashed at him and raked through his fur while his breath bubbled into the dark water. His head broke the surface briefly, but before he could gasp in air the branch twisted and rolled him under again.

Terror made him strangely calm, as if time had slowed down. Part of Fireheart's mind told him to let go of the branch and fight his way to the surface, but he knew that if he did that he would risk his life; the current was far too strong for him to swim. The force of the water meant there was nothing he could do but dig his claws in and endure. StarClan help me! he thought frantically.

His senses were just beginning to ebb into a tempting darkness when the branch rolled over again and brought him back to the surface. Choking and spitting he clung to it, with water churning along on either side of him. He could not see the bank. He tried to haul himself farther out of the water, but his sodden fur was too heavy and his limbs were growing stiff with cold. He did not know how long he could hold on.

Just as he felt that he was about to let go, something brought the branch to a jarring stop. It shuddered along its whole length, almost throwing Fireheart off. As he clung on desperately, he heard a cat screech his name. Twisting his head, he saw that the other end of the branch was jammed against a rock that jutted out into the stream.

Longtail was crouched on the rock, leaning down toward him. “Move, kittypet!” he growled.

With his last drop of energy, Fireheart scrambled along the length of the branch. Twigs whipped across his face. He felt the branch lurch again and flung himself at the rock, his front paws scraping at it while his hind legs thrust through the water. His paws had barely touched stone when the branch was swept away from underneath him.

For a heartbeat Fireheart thought he would follow it. The rock was smooth; there was no purchase for his paws. Then Longtail reached down and Fireheart felt his teeth meet in the scruff of his neck. With the other cat's help he managed to claw his way upward until he was crouching on the top of the rock. Shivering, he coughed up several mouthfuls of stream water before he looked up. “Thanks, Longtail,” he gasped.

The warrior's face was expressionless. “It was nothing.”

Tigerclaw padded up from behind the rock. “Are you hurt?” he demanded. “Can you walk?”

Shakily, Fireheart pushed himself to his paws. Water streamed off his coat as he shook himself. “I-I'm fine, Tigerclaw,” he stammered.

Tigerclaw stepped backward to avoid the spinning droplets from Fireheart's fur. “Watch it; we're all wet enough already.” Approaching Fireheart again he gave a rapid sniff down the length of his body. “Back to camp for you,” he ordered. “In fact, we'll all go back. No cat can get across that water; you've proved that, if nothing else.”

Fireheart nodded and wordlessly followed the deputy back into the forest. Colder and more tired than he could ever remember being before, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep in a patch of sunlight.

But while his limbs felt like waterlogged stone, his mind was a whirlpool of fear and suspicion. Tigerclaw had sent him out onto the branch, when any cat could see it was dangerous. Fireheart couldn't help wondering if Tigerclaw had deliberately dislodged it, to make sure that he was flung into the swollen stream.

Not if Longtail was watching, he decided. After all, Longtail had rescued him; much as Fireheart disliked Longtail, he had to admit that the pale tabby would stick rigidly to the Clan code when another warrior needed his help.

Even so, Tigerclaw could have shifted the branch without letting Longtail see, or perhaps Longtail hadn't understood what was happening. Fireheart would have liked to ask him, but he knew that if he did the question would be reported to Tigerclaw.

Then he glanced at Tigerclaw, and saw the deputy glaring at him with unmasked hatred. As Fireheart met the amber stare, he saw Tigerclaw's eyes narrow as if with an unspoken
threat. And in that moment Fireheart knew that somehow Tigerclaw had tried to murder him. This time he had failed. But what about next time? Fireheart's tired brain shied away from what was all too obvious. Next time, Tigerclaw would make sure he did not fail.

 

By the time he reached the camp, the warm newleaf sun had dried Fireheart's fur, but he was so exhausted he could scarcely put one paw in front of another.

Sandstorm, who was sunning herself outside the warriors' den, sprang up as soon as she saw him and bounded over to his side. “Fireheart!” she exclaimed. “You look awful! What happened?”

“Nothing much,” Fireheart mumbled. “I was—”

“Fireheart went for a swim, that's all,” Tigerclaw interrupted. He looked down at the young warrior. “Come on. We need to report to Bluestar.” He strode across to the Highrock with Longtail at his heels. As Fireheart staggered after them, Sandstorm padded close beside him, pressing her warm body against his for support.

“Well?” Bluestar asked when the cats stood in front of her. “Did you find somewhere to cross?”

Tigerclaw shook his massive head. “It's impossible. The water's too high.”

“But every Clan should attend the Gathering,” Bluestar pointed out. “StarClan will be angry if we don't try to find a dry route. Tigerclaw, tell me exactly where you went.”

Tigerclaw began to describe the events of the morning in
more detail, including Fireheart's attempt to cross by the branch. “It was brave but foolish,” he growled. “I thought he'd paid with his life.”

Sandstorm looked around, impressed, but Fireheart knew as well as Tigerclaw that he had had no choice about getting onto the branch.

“Be more careful in the future, Fireheart,” Bluestar warned. “You'd better see Yellowfang in case you've caught a chill.”

“I'm fine,” Fireheart told her. “I just need to sleep, that's all.”

Bluestar's eyes narrowed. “That was an order, Fireheart.”

Stifling a yawn, Fireheart bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Bluestar.”

“Come to the den when you've finished,” meowed Sandstorm, giving him a lick. “I'll fetch you some fresh-kill.”

Fireheart mewed his thanks and stumbled unsteadily to Yellowfang's den. The clearing was empty, but when he called Yellowfang's name the old medicine cat poked her head out of the gap in the rock.

“Fireheart? Great StarClan, you look like a squirrel that's fallen out of its tree! What happened to you?”

She padded toward him as he explained. Cinderpaw limped out behind her and sat beside Fireheart, her blue eyes wide as she heard how he had nearly drowned.

Seeing her, Fireheart could not help remembering how she had been injured beside the Thunderpath—another accident arranged by Tigerclaw? Not to mention the cold-blooded
murder of Redtail. His head spinning with fatigue, Fireheart wondered how he could possibly stop Tigerclaw before another cat died for the deputy's ruthless ambition.

“Right,” rasped Yellowfang, interrupting his troubled thoughts. “You're a strong cat, and you probably haven't taken a chill, but we'll check you to make sure. Cinderpaw, what should we look for when a cat gets a soaking?”

Cinderpaw sat up straight with her tail wrapped around her paws. Eyes fixed on Yellowfang, she recited, “Poor breathing, sickness, leeches in his fur.”

“Good,” grunted Yellowfang. “Off you go, then.”

Very carefully, Cinderpaw sniffed along the length of Fireheart's body, parting his fur with one paw to make sure that no leeches had fastened themselves onto his skin. “Breathing okay, Fireheart?” she asked gently. “Do you feel sick?”

“No, everything's fine,” Fireheart mewed. “I just want to sleep for a moon.”

“I think he's all right, Yellowfang,” Cinderpaw reported. She pressed her cheek against Fireheart's and gave him a couple of quick licks. “Just don't go jumping in any more rivers, eh?”

Yellowfang let out a throaty purr. “All right, Fireheart, you can go and sleep now.”

Cinderpaw flicked up her ears in surprise. “Aren't you going to check him as well? What if I've missed something?”

“No need,” meowed Yellowfang. “I trust you, Cinderpaw.” The old cat stretched, arching her skinny back, and then
relaxed. “I've been meaning to say something to you for a while,” she went on. “I see so many mouse-brained cats around here that it's a real joy to find one with some sense. You've learned quickly, and you're good with sick cats.”

“Thank you, Yellowfang!” Cinderpaw burst out, her eyes round with surprise at Yellowfang's praise.

“Be quiet, I haven't finished. I'm getting old now, and it's time I started to think about finding an apprentice. Cinderpaw, how would you feel about becoming ThunderClan's next medicine cat?”

Cinderpaw leaped to her paws. Her eyes were sparkling and she quivered with excitement. “Do you really mean it?” she whispered.

“Of course I mean it,” Yellowfang growled. “I don't talk for the pleasure of hearing my own voice, unlike some cats.”

“In that case, yes,” Cinderpaw murmured, lifting her head with dignity. “I'd like that better than anything in the whole world!”

Fireheart felt his heart begin to beat faster with happiness. He had worried so much for Cinderpaw, at first when he thought she might die, then when it became clear that her injured leg would stop her from becoming a warrior. He remembered how she had wondered desperately what she could make of her life. And now it looked as if Yellowfang had found the perfect solution. Seeing the young she-cat so happy and excited about the future was more than Fireheart had ever hoped for.

Fireheart went back to the warriors' den on lighter paws to
share fresh-kill with Sandstorm and then to sleep. When he awoke, the light in the den was red from the rays of the setting sun.

Graystripe was nudging him. “Wake up,” his friend meowed. “Bluestar has just called a meeting.”

Fireheart left the den to find Bluestar already standing on the top of the Highrock. Yellowfang was beside her, and when all the cats were assembled it was the old medicine cat who spoke first.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” she rasped, “I have an announcement to make. As you know, I am not a young cat. It's time I took an apprentice. So I've chosen the only cat I can put up with.” Yellowfang let out an amused purr. “And the only cat who can put up with me. Your next medicine cat will be Cinderpaw.”

A chorus of pleased meows broke out. Cinderpaw sat at the foot of the rock, her eyes shining and her fur sleekly groomed. She lowered her head shyly as the Clan congratulated her.

“Cinderpaw.” Bluestar made herself heard above the noise. “Do you accept the post of apprentice to Yellowfang?”

Cinderpaw lifted her head to look up at her leader. “Yes, Bluestar.”

“Then at the half moon you must travel to Mothermouth, to be accepted by StarClan before the other medicine cats. The good wishes of all ThunderClan will go with you.”

Yellowfang half jumped, half slithered down from the rock, and padded up to Cinderpaw to touch noses with her.
Then the rest of the Clan gathered around the new apprentice. Fireheart caught sight of Brackenpaw pressing close to his sister, his eyes glowing with pride, and even Tigerclaw went up to her and meowed a few words. It was clear that Cinderpaw was a popular choice for this important position.

As he waited to give Cinderpaw his congratulations, Fireheart could not help wishing that all his own problems could be solved as smoothly.

The sun began to set for
the third time since Fireheart had almost drowned. The young warrior was washing himself outside his den, scraping his tongue across his fur. He kept imagining that he could still taste the muddy water. As he twisted his head to wash his back, he heard the pad of approaching paws, and looked up to see Tigerclaw looming over him.

“Bluestar wants you to go to the Gathering,” the deputy growled. “Meet her outside her den—and bring Sandstorm and Graystripe.” He stalked away before Fireheart could reply.

Fireheart got up and stretched. Glancing around, he spotted Graystripe and Sandstorm eating beside the patch of nettles, and hurried over to join them. “Bluestar has chosen us to go to the Gathering,” he announced.

Sandstorm finished off her blackbird and swiped a pink tongue around her jaws. “But can we get to the Gathering?” she meowed, sounding puzzled. “I thought the stream was impossible to cross.”

“Bluestar said StarClan would be angry if we didn't try,” Fireheart mewed. “She wants to talk to us now—maybe she has a plan.”

Graystripe spoke through a mouthful of vole. “I just hope she doesn't expect us to swim.” In spite of his words, his eyes shone with excitement as he gulped the rest of the fresh-kill and sprang to his paws. Fireheart knew he must be looking forward to a chance to see Silverstream, and he wondered if they had managed to meet in the time since he and Graystripe had been caught crossing the river after their ill-fated hunting mission for RiverClan.

Fireheart thought of Silverstream's kits, and he wondered how Graystripe would be able to bear seeing them grow up in another Clan. Would Silverstream ever be able to tell them that Graystripe, the ThunderClan warrior, was their father? Fireheart tried to put the questions out of his mind as he and his friends crossed the clearing to the Highrock. Bluestar was sitting outside her den, with Whitestorm, Mousefur, and Willowpelt already by her side. A moment later Tigerclaw and Darkstripe joined them.

“As you know, the moon is full tonight,” Bluestar began when all the cats were gathered around her. “It will be hard to get to Fourtrees, but StarClan would expect us to do all we can to find a dry route. So I've chosen warriors only—this will be no journey for elders or apprentices, or queens expecting kits. Darkstripe, you led a patrol to examine the stream this morning. Report what you found.”

“The water's going down,” meowed Darkstripe. “But not fast enough. We patrolled as far as the Thunderpath, and there's nowhere a cat could cross without swimming.”

“The stream's narrower up there,” mewed Willowpelt.
“Could we jump across?”

“Maybe, if you grew wings,” Darkstripe replied. “If all you've got is your own paws…”

“But that has to be the best place to try,” insisted Whitestorm.

Bluestar nodded. “We'll start there,” she decided. “Maybe StarClan will lead us to a safe place.” She rose to her paws and led her cats quietly out of the camp.

The sun had gone down, and twilight blurred the shapes of the forest. In the distance an owl hooted, and Fireheart could hear the rustle of prey in the undergrowth, but the warriors were too intent on their journey to hunt. Bluestar took them straight through the trees to the place where the stream emerged from a hard stone tunnel underneath the Thunderpath. Their usual route to Fourtrees did not pass this close to the Thunderpath, and Fireheart wondered what his leader was planning to do. When they reached the tunnel, he saw that floodwater spread out on either side, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. Water covered the Thunderpath as well, and as the cats watched they saw a monster pass by, moving slowly, throwing up a filthy wave from its round black paws.

Once the monster had disappeared into the distance, Bluestar led her cats to the water's edge on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She sniffed the water, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and cautiously put one paw into the flood. “It's shallow enough here,” she meowed. “We can walk up the Thunderpath until we're on the other side of the stream, and
get to Fourtrees along the border with ShadowClan.”

Walk up the Thunderpath! Fireheart felt his coat begin to prickle with fear at the thought of deliberately following the tracks of the monsters. Cinderpaw's accident had shown him what they could do to a cat, and she had only been at the edge.

“What if another monster comes?” asked Graystripe, voicing Fireheart's fear.

“We will keep to the side,” Bluestar replied calmly. “You saw how slowly that monster was moving. Maybe they don't like getting their paws wet.”

Fireheart saw that Graystripe still looked doubtful. He shared his friend's worries, but there was no point in protesting any more. Tigerclaw would just berate them for being cowards.

“Bluestar, wait,” called Whitestorm as the Clan leader waded into the water. “Remember how low our territory is on the other side of this stream? I can't help thinking it will be flooded there, too. I don't think we'll get to Fourtrees without going onto ShadowClan territory, which is higher.”

A cat close to Fireheart let out a faint hiss, and Fireheart felt another pang of fear. A band of warriors setting paw across the border of a Clan with which they had recently battled? If a patrol caught them, they would think it was an invasion.

Bluestar paused with water lapping over her paws, and looked back at Whitestorm. “Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but we'll have to risk it, if it's the only way.”

She set off again without giving her cats any time to protest. There was nothing to do but follow. Fireheart splashed along
the edge of the Thunderpath just behind Whitestorm. Tigerclaw brought up the rear to keep a lookout for monsters coming up from behind.

At first everything was quiet, except for a single monster traveling in the other direction on the opposite side of the Thunderpath. Then Fireheart heard the familiar growling and the splash of an approaching monster.

“Look out!” Tigerclaw yowled from the end of the line.

Fireheart froze, pressing himself against the low wall that edged the Thunderpath as it crossed the stream. Darkstripe scrambled on top of it and crouched there, baring his teeth at the monster as it passed. For a moment its strange, glittering colors were reflected in the stinking water, and a wave washed out from it, soaking Fireheart as far as his belly fur.

Then it was gone, and Fireheart could breathe again.

As they reached the other side of the stream Fireheart could see that Whitestorm was right. The low-lying land on the ThunderClan side was covered with water. There was nothing to do but continue along the edge of the Thunderpath until the land rose and was dry enough to walk on.

Stepping thankfully off the paw-achingly hard Thunderpath, Fireheart raised his head and opened his jaws. A strong, rank stench filled his scent glands—the scent of ShadowClan! They had followed the Thunderpath out of ThunderClan territory, and now a swath of ShadowClan land lay between them and the Gathering at Fourtrees.

“We shouldn't be here,” Willowpelt murmured uneasily.

If Bluestar heard the comment, she ignored it, quickening
the pace until they were racing across the sodden turf. There were few trees here, and the close-cropped grass offered no cover for trespassing cats. Fireheart's heart was beating fast, and not only from the speed of their journey. If ShadowClan cats caught them, they would be in trouble, but Fourtrees was not far away, and their luck might hold.

Then he caught sight of a dark shadow streaking over the ground ahead of them, on a course to intercept Bluestar at the head of her patrol. More shadows followed, and a furious yowling split the quiet of the night.

For a heartbeat Bluestar quickened her pace, as if she thought she could outrun the challengers. Then she slowed to a stop. Her warriors did the same. Fireheart stood panting; the shadows drew closer, and he saw that they were ShadowClan cats, headed by their leader, Nightstar.

“Bluestar!” he spat as he halted in front of the ThunderClan leader. “Why have you brought your cats onto ShadowClan land?”

“In these floods, it was the only way to reach Fourtrees,” Bluestar replied, her voice low and steady. “We mean no harm, Nightstar. You know there's a truce for the Gathering.”

Nightstar hissed, his ears flattened against his head and his fur bristling. “The truce holds at Fourtrees,” he snarled. “There is no truce here.”

Instinctively, Fireheart dropped into a defensive crouch. The ShadowClan cats—apprentices and elders as well as warriors—slipped silently into a semicircle around the smaller band from ThunderClan. Like Nightstar, their coats were
bristling and their tails lashed in anger. Their hostile eyes reflected the cold light of the moon. Fireheart knew that if it came to a fight, ThunderClan was hopelessly outnumbered.

“Nightstar, I'm sorry,” meowed Bluestar. “We would never trespass on your territory without good reason. Please let us pass.”

Her words did nothing to appease the ShadowClan cats. Cinderfur, the ShadowClan deputy, moved up beside his leader, a dim shape in the moonlight. “I think they're here to spy,” he growled softly.

“Spy?” Tigerclaw shouldered his way forward to stand next to Bluestar, his head thrust out toward Cinderfur until their noses were less than a mouse-length apart. “What can we spy on here? We're nowhere near your camp.”

Cinderfur curled back his lip to reveal thorn-sharp teeth. “Give us the word, Nightstar, and we'll tear them apart.”

“You can try,” growled Tigerclaw.

For a few heartbeats Nightstar was silent. Fireheart's muscles tensed. Beside him, Graystripe growled low in his throat. Mousefur bared her teeth at the nearest ShadowClan warrior, and Sandstorm's pale golden eyes shone with readiness to fight.

“Keep back,” Nightstar grunted at last to his warriors. “We'll let them pass. I want ThunderClan cats at the Gathering.” Though his words were friendly, he hissed them through bared teeth. Suddenly suspicious, Fireheart whispered to Graystripe, “What does he mean by that?”

Graystripe shrugged. “Dunno. We've seen nothing of
ShadowClan since the floods started. Who knows what they're up to?”

“We'll even give you an escort,” Nightstar went on, narrowing his eyes. “Just to make sure you get to Fourtrees safely. We wouldn't want ThunderClan to be scared off by an angry mouse, would we?”

A murmur of agreement rose from the ShadowClan warriors. They shifted so that they surrounded the ThunderClan cats on all sides. With a faint nod, Nightstar set off beside Bluestar. The other cats followed, the ShadowClan patrol matching ThunderClan step for step.

ThunderClan headed for the Gathering completely encircled by their enemies.

 

The moon was at its height as Fireheart and the other ThunderClan cats were herded into the hollow beneath the four oak trees. A fierce, cold light poured down over the members of RiverClan and WindClan who were already assembled. All of them turned to stare curiously at the group descending the slope. Fireheart knew that he and the rest of his Clan must look like prisoners. He stalked along proudly, head and tail held high, defying any cat to say that they had been beaten.

To his relief, the ShadowClan cats slipped away into the shadows as soon as they reached the hollow. Bluestar headed straight for the Great Rock with Tigerclaw at her side. Fireheart looked around for Graystripe, and found that his friend had already disappeared; a moment later he caught
sight of him approaching Silverstream, but the silver tabby was surrounded by other RiverClan cats, and Graystripe could only hover nearby, looking frustrated.

Fireheart suppressed a sigh. He knew how much Graystripe must be longing to see Silverstream again, especially now she was expecting kits, but there was a huge risk in meeting at a Gathering, where any cat could catch them together.

“What's up with you?” Mousefur made him jump. “You look as if you've got something on your mind.”

Fireheart stared at the brown warrior. “I…I was thinking about what Nightstar said,” he improvised rapidly. “Why did he say he wants ThunderClan cats here?”

“Well, I'm sure of one thing. He's not being kind and helpful,” Sandstorm mewed, coming up with Willowpelt beside her. She licked one paw and drew it over her ear. “We'll find out soon enough.”

“Trouble's coming,” Willowpelt meowed over one shoulder as she went to join a group of WindClan queens. “I can feel it in my paws.”

Uneasier than ever, Fireheart padded back and forth under the trees, listening with one ear to the cats around him. Most of them were sharing harmless gossip, catching up on news from other Clans, and he heard nothing about what ShadowClan were planning. He noticed, though, that all the ShadowClan cats he passed glared at him, still fiercely hostile. And he caught one or two of them glancing up at the Great Rock as if they were impatient for the meeting to start.

At last a yowling sounded from the top of the rock, and the murmuring from the cats below died away. Fireheart found a place at the edge of the hollow where he had a good view of the four Clan leaders, their silhouettes black against the sky.

Sandstorm settled herself beside him, crouching with her paws tucked under her chest. “Now for it,” she whispered expectantly.

Nightstar stepped forward, stiff-legged with barely suppressed fury. “Cats of all Clans, listen to me!” he demanded. “Listen, and remember. Until last greenleaf, Brokenstar was leader of ShadowClan. He was—”

Tallstar, the leader of WindClan, stepped forward to stand beside Nightstar. “Why do you speak that hated name?” he growled. His eyes flashed, and Fireheart knew he was remembering how Brokenstar and his warriors had driven WindClan out of their territory.

“Hated, yes,” Nightstar agreed. “And with good reason, which you know as well as any cat, Tallstar. He stole kits from ThunderClan. He forced kits from his own Clan into battle too early, and they died. In the end he was so bloodthirsty that we—his own Clan—drove him out. And where is he now?” Nightstar's voice rose to a shriek. “Was he left to die in the forest, or scavenge a living among the Twolegs? No! Because there are cats here tonight who have taken him in. They are traitors to the warrior code, and to every other cat in the forest!”