Rising Storm

Fireheart saw a shadow weaving through the ferns, dark and slender. Two black ears poked above the fronds. There was something about the shape of them that stirred a distant memory, not unpleasant. Was it a cat that they had helped from one of the other Clans? But with Tigerclaw’s dark, plotting presence in the forest, there was no way of knowing which cats were to be trusted. All strangers were enemies.

Fireheart flexed his claws, preparing to pounce. Beside him Sandstorm quivered with anticipation, and Brightpaw stared down, her small shoulders tense. As the stranger padded under the ash tree, Fireheart let out a vicious yowl and dropped onto its back.

The black cat screeched with surprise and rolled over, knocking Fireheart to the ground. Fireheart leaped nimbly to his paws. He had felt the size and strength of this cat in his first pounce, and knew it would be easy to chase off. He faced the cat, arching his back, and gave a warning hiss. Sandstorm leaped down from the tree, Brightpaw right behind her, and Fireheart saw the black cat’s eyes widen in panic as it realized it was outnumbered.

But Fireheart was already letting the fur lie flat on his shoulders. His first instinct had been right: he recognized this intruder. And from the look on the cat’s face, which had turned from panic to relief in a single heartbeat, the intruder recognized Fireheart too.

Chapter 19

“Ravenpaw!” Fireheart sprang forward to give his old friend a welcoming nuzzle.

“It’s so good to see you, Fireheart!” Ravenpaw nudged him in return and turned his eyes to Sandstorm. “And can this really be Sandpaw?”

“Sandstorm!” the ginger she-cat corrected him sharply.

“Of course. The last time I saw you, you were half the size!” The black tom’s eyes narrowed. “How’s Dustpaw?”

Fireheart understood Ravenpaw’s wary tone. Sandstorm and Dustpelt had trained at the same time as him, and had viewed Ravenpaw more as a rival than a denmate. When Ravenpaw had fled from his mentor, Tigerclaw, and gone to live in the Twoleg territory beyond the uplands, Dustpaw and Sandpaw had not been sad to see him go. Fireheart doubted that Ravenpaw had missed them either.

“Dustpelt’s fine.” Sandstorm shrugged. “He has his own apprentice now.”

“And is this one your apprentice?” Ravenpaw asked, looking at Brightpaw.

Fireheart felt his ears twitch as Sandstorm answered curtly, “I don’t have an apprentice yet. This is Whitestorm’s. Her name is Brightpaw.”

The warm breeze ruffled the leaves at the tops of the trees. Fireheart glanced up at the noise. This unexpected meeting had disarmed him, and he’d let his guard slip. He scanned the undergrowth warily as he remembered the threat of Tigerclaw and his band of rogues. “What are you doing here, Ravenpaw?” he asked urgently.

Ravenpaw, who had been studying Sandstorm with a curious expression in his amber eyes, turned his head. “Looking for you.”

“Really? Why?” Fireheart knew it had to be important for Ravenpaw to come back to the forest. The young black cat had lived in constant fear after he had accidentally witnessed Tigerclaw killing Redtail, the ThunderClan deputy. When Tigerclaw had tried to kill Ravenpaw too, to keep him quiet, Fireheart and Graystripe had helped their friend escape. Ravenpaw now lived on a Twoleg farm with Barley, another loner—a cat who wasn’t a kittypet, nor part of a forest Clan. Ravenpaw must have a very good reason for returning to his old enemy’s territory now. After all, he had no way of knowing that Tigerclaw’s treachery had been revealed and he had been driven out of ThunderClan. As far as Ravenpaw knew, Tigerclaw was still the deputy.

Ravenpaw flicked his tail uneasily. “A cat has come to live on the edge of my territory,” he began.

Fireheart stared at him, confused, and Ravenpaw tried to explain. “I found him while I was out hunting. He was scared and lost. He didn’t say much, but he smelled of ThunderClan.”

“ThunderClan?” Fireheart echoed.

“I asked him if he had come over the uplands, but he didn’t seem to have any idea where he was. So I took him back to the Twoleg nest where he said he was living.”

“So he was a kittypet?” Sandstorm was staring intently at the black cat. “Are you sure it was ThunderClan you smelled on him?”

“I wouldn’t forget the scent I was born to,” Ravenpaw retorted. “And he didn’t seem like the usual sort of kittypet. In fact he didn’t seem at all pleased to be back with his Twolegs.”

A glimmer of excitement sparked in Fireheart’s belly, but he forced himself to stay silent until Ravenpaw had finished his story.

“I couldn’t get his scent out of my mind. I went back to the Twoleg nest to speak to him again, but he was shut in. I tried to talk to him through a window, but the Twoleg chased me away.”

“What color was this cat?” Fireheart felt Sandstorm glance sharply at him.

“White,” replied Ravenpaw. “He had a fluffy white pelt.”

“But…that sounds like Cloudpaw!” It was Brightpaw who spoke.