Rising Storm

“I hope you didn’t follow it,” growled Bluestar.

Fireheart hesitated. He had expected his leader to be excited by this discovery; instead her tone was harsh and accusing. “N-no, we didn’t,” he stammered.

“You took too much risk entering their territory at all. We don’t want to antagonize ShadowClan.”

“If ShadowClan is as weak as the warriors said, I don’t think they’d do anything about it,” he pointed out, but Bluestar stared past him, apparently busy with her own thoughts.

“Have those two cats gone?” she asked.

“Yes. They went through the tunnel. That’s how we found it,” Fireheart explained.

Bluestar nodded distantly. “I see.”

Fireheart searched the ThunderClan leader’s eyes for some hint of compassion. Didn’t she care about the sickness in ShadowClan at all? “Did we do the right thing, sending them back?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Of course!” snapped Bluestar. “We don’t want sickness in the camp again.”

“No, we don’t,” Fireheart agreed heavily.

As he turned to leave, Bluestar added, “Don’t tell anyone about the tunnel yet.”

“Okay,” Fireheart promised, slipping through the lichen. He wondered why Bluestar wanted to keep the tunnel a secret. After all, he had uncovered a weakness in ShadowClan’s border that could become a strength for ThunderClan. Not that he felt ShadowClan deserved any sort of attack at the moment, but surely a better knowledge of the forest could only be a good thing? Fireheart sighed as Sandstorm dashed up to him.

“What did she say? Was she pleased we’d found the tunnel?” she demanded.

Fireheart shook his head. “She told me to keep it a secret.”

“Why?” Sandstorm meowed in surprise.

Fireheart shrugged and kept going toward his den. Sandstorm trotted after him. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is it Bluestar? Did she say anything else?”

Fireheart realized he was giving away too much of his anxiety about the ThunderClan leader. He bent to give his chest a quick lick, then lifted his head and meowed with forced brightness, “I must go. I promised I’d take Cloudpaw hunting this afternoon.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sandstorm’s eyes looked concerned, and she added, “It’ll be fun. We haven’t been hunting together for ages.” She nodded toward the apprentices’ den, where Cloudpaw was dozing in the sunshine. The apprentice’s plump, furry belly rose and fell as he breathed. “He certainly needs the exercise,” she added. “He’s beginning to look like Willowpelt.” She purred with amusement. “He must be quite a hunter! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Clan cat that fat.”

There was no spite in Sandstorm’s voice, but Fireheart felt his fur growing hot. Cloudpaw did look fat for such a young cat, much fatter than the other apprentices, even though they were all enjoying the plentiful prey of greenleaf. “I think I should take Cloudpaw out by myself,” he meowed reluctantly. “I’ve been neglecting him a bit lately. Could we go out together another time?”

“Just let me know when,” Sandstorm responded cheerfully. “I’ll be there. I could catch us another rabbit.” Fireheart saw mischief flash in her pale green eyes, and he knew she was referring to the time they’d hunted together in a snowbound forest that shimmered with frost, when she had surprised him with her speed and skill. “Unless you’ve finally learned how to catch them for yourself!” Sandstorm teased, flicking Fireheart’s cheek with her tail as she trotted away.

Watching her go, Fireheart felt a strange, happy prickling in his paws. He shook his head and padded over to Cloudpaw. The sleepy apprentice arched his back and stretched, his short legs quivering with the effort.

“Have you been out of the camp today?” Fireheart asked.

“No,” answered Cloudpaw.

“Well, we’re going hunting,” Fireheart informed him curtly. He felt ruffled by the way Cloudpaw seemed to think he could just lie about and enjoy the sunshine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really,” replied Cloudpaw.

Fireheart felt puzzled. Had Cloudpaw been stealing from the fresh-kill pile? Apprentices were not allowed to take food until they had hunted for the elders, or gone training with their mentors. Fireheart dismissed the thought instantly. The apprentice couldn’t have managed it without one of the Clan seeing him. “Well, if you’re not hungry we’ll start in the training hollow for some fighting practice,” he meowed. “We can hunt afterward.”

Without giving the young cat a chance to object, Fireheart raced out of the camp. He heard Cloudpaw’s pawsteps thumping after him, but he didn’t look back or slow his pace until he reached the sheltered hollow where he had trained as an apprentice. He stopped in the middle of the sandy clearing. The air was so still that, even in the shade, the midday heat felt stifling. “Attack me,” he ordered as Cloudpaw scrambled down the slope to join him, his paws sending up puffs of red dust that clung to his long white fur.

Cloudpaw stared at him, wrinkling his nose. “What? Just like that?”

“Yes,” replied Fireheart. “Pretend I’m an enemy warrior.”