Rising Storm

Bluestar crouched in her nest, her eyes half-closed, and for a moment Fireheart wondered if she had caught the ShadowClan sickness. Her fur was even more matted, and she sat with the stillness of a cat who could no longer care for itself, but waited silently for death.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart quietly called her name.

The old she-cat turned her head slowly toward him.

“We’ve been patrolling the forest constantly,” he reported. “There’s been no sign of Tigerclaw and his rogues.”

Bluestar looked away without answering. Fireheart paused, wondering whether to say more, but Bluestar had drawn her paws farther under her chest and closed her eyes. Disheartened, Fireheart dipped his head and backed out of the cave.

The sunlit clearing looked so peaceful that it was hard to believe the Clan faced any dangers. Brackenfur was playing with Willowpelt’s kits outside the nursery, flicking his tail for them to chase, while Whitestorm rested in the shade beneath the Highrock. Only the fact that the white warrior’s ears were pricked toward Bluestar’s den betrayed the strain the Clan was under.

Fireheart stared unenthusiastically toward the growing pile of fresh-kill. His belly felt tight and hollow, but he couldn’t imagine being able to swallow anything. He spotted Sandstorm eating a piece of fresh-kill. The sight of her sleek orange pelt was an unexpected pleasure, and Fireheart suddenly couldn’t help thinking how much he’d enjoy her company while he was out hunting with Brightpaw. The thought restored Fireheart’s appetite, and his belly growled with anticipation of the chase. He would leave the fresh-kill for the others to share.

At that moment Brightpaw trotted into the camp behind Mousefur, Frostfur, and Halftail. They were bringing water-soaked moss for the queens and elders. Brightpaw carried her dripping bundle toward Bluestar’s den under Whitestorm’s appreciative gaze.

Fireheart called across to Sandstorm. “You promised you’d catch us a rabbit whenever I asked. You up for coming hunting with Brightpaw and me?”

Sandstorm looked up. Her green eyes shone with an unspoken message that made Fireheart’s pelt glow more warmly than the rays of the sun ever could. “Okay,” she called back, and quickly gulped down her last mouthful of food. Still licking her lips, she trotted toward Fireheart.

They waited side by side for Brightpaw, and although their pelts barely touched, Fireheart could feel his fur tingle.

“Are you ready to go hunting?” Fireheart asked Brightpaw as soon as she emerged from Bluestar’s den.

“Now?” mewed Brightpaw, surprised.

“I know it’s not sunhigh yet, but we can leave now if you’re not too tired.”

Brightpaw shook her head and hurried after them as Fireheart and Sandstorm raced through the gorse tunnel, out into the forest.

With Brightpaw on his heels, Fireheart followed Sandstorm up the ravine and into the woods, impressed at the way her muscles flexed smoothly under her pale ginger coat. He knew she must be as tired as he was, but she kept up a quick pace through the undergrowth, her ears pricked and her mouth open.

“I think we’ve found one!” she hissed suddenly, dropping into a hunting crouch. Brightpaw opened her mouth to scent the air. Fireheart stood still while Sandstorm drew herself silently through the bushes. He could smell the rabbit and hear it snuffling in the undergrowth beyond a clump of ferns. Sandstorm suddenly shot forward, making the leaves rustle as she sped through them. Fireheart heard the rabbit’s hind legs pound against the parched ground as it tried to escape. Leaving Brightpaw behind, he leaped instinctively, swerving around the ferns, and chasing it through the undergrowth and across the forest floor as it bolted away from Sandstorm’s sharp claws. He took its life with one sharp bite, uttering a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan for filling the forest with prey, even if they hadn’t sent rain for so long. The storm that had been promised by the rumbles of thunder a few evenings ago had not come, and the air was as brittle and stifling as ever.

Sandstorm skidded to a halt beside Fireheart as he crouched over the rabbit. He could hear her panting. His own breath was coming in gasps too.

“Thanks,” she meowed. “I’m a bit slow today.”

“Me too,” Fireheart admitted.

“You need a rest,” Sandstorm meowed gently.

“We all do.” Fireheart felt the warmth of her soft green gaze.

“But you’ve been twice as busy as everyone else.”

“There’s a lot to do.” Fireheart forced himself to add, “And I don’t have to spend time training Cloudpaw anymore.”