Rising Storm

Brightpaw’s eyes flashed with alarm, but she blinked it away and dipped her head. “Of course.”

“Go straight back home, and keep your ears low,” Fireheart ordered her, feeling a twinge of worry at leaving the young cat to travel alone.

“I’ll take care,” Brightpaw promised him earnestly. She turned and vanished into the undergrowth.

Fireheart pushed away his anxiety about the apprentice and began to trek through the ferns. Sandstorm and Ravenpaw fell into step beside him, and he was reminded of all the times he had hunted in the forest with Ravenpaw and Graystripe. But as the stifling forest air pressed down on him and his fur prickled with anticipation of the journey ahead, he couldn’t help wondering if he was leading them all into disaster.

The three cats raced through Fourtrees and climbed into WindClan territory. Fireheart remembered the last time he had been here, with Bluestar. They would be following the same route, straight across the uplands to the Twoleg farmland that lay between WindClan territory and Highstones. At least there was no breeze this time to carry their scents across the moor. The air on the uplands was unnaturally still, and so dry that Fireheart felt his fur crackle as it brushed through the heather.

He chose a trail that kept them as far as possible from the camp that lay at the heart of WindClan’s territory. The ground up here was usually peaty and wet, but now it had dried to a hard crust and the heather was browning in places, shriveled by the sun.

“So what’s happened to Tigerclaw?” Ravenpaw broke the silence without slowing his pace.

Fireheart had often looked forward to telling Ravenpaw that his old tormentor had been exposed at last. But now it seemed there was only darkness in the news about Tigerclaw’s treachery and banishment, and, since he had killed Runningwind, Fireheart stumbled over the story with a heart that ached with bitterness and regret.

Ravenpaw stopped dead in his tracks. “He killed Runningwind?”

Fireheart stopped too and nodded heavily. “Tigerclaw leads a band of rogues now, and he’s sworn to kill us all.”

“But who would follow such a leader?”

“Some of them are Brokentail’s old friends, who were exiled with him when we drove him out of ShadowClan.” Fireheart paused, forcing himself to revisit the scene of the recent battle in his mind. “But there were other cats that I hadn’t seen before. I don’t know where they’ve come from.”

“So Tigerclaw is more powerful than ever,” Ravenpaw mewed darkly.

“No!” Fireheart spat. “He’s an outcast now, not a warrior. He has no Clan. StarClan must oppose him as long as he breaks the warrior code. Without a Clan or the warrior code to support him, there’s no way Tigerclaw can defeat ThunderClan.” Fireheart fell silent, realizing that he had spoken with a conviction he had hardly been aware of until now. Sandstorm was staring proudly at him.

“I hope you’re right,” Ravenpaw meowed.

Me too, thought Fireheart. He began to pad onward once more, narrowing his eyes against the glaring sun.

“Of course he’s right,” Sandstorm insisted, following.

Ravenpaw fell into step beside Sandstorm. “Well, I’m just glad I’m out of it.”

She glanced at him accusingly. “Don’t you miss Clan life at all?”

“I did in the beginning,” Ravenpaw admitted. “But now I have a new home, and I like it there. I’ve got Barley for company if I want, and that’s plenty for me. I’d rather have that than Tigerclaw any day.”

Sandstorm’s eyes glittered. “How do you know he won’t come looking for you?”

Ravenpaw’s ears twitched.

“Tigerclaw has no idea where you are,” Fireheart told him quickly. He flashed a warning glance at Sandstorm. “Come on; let’s get out of WindClan’s territory.”

He quickened the pace until they were racing through the heather too fast to speak. He avoided the swathe of gorse where he and Bluestar had met Mudclaw, and instead led them in a broad circle across the open moor. The barren hillside offered no protection from the sun, and Fireheart felt as if his pelt were on fire by the time they reached the slope that led down to Twoleg territory. The valley stretched out below them, patched with meadows and paths and Twoleg nests like the dappled coat of a tortoiseshell.

“The WindClan cats must have been keeping out of the heat in their camp,” he meowed, puffing as they ran down the hillside. “Let’s hope the rest of the journey is this easy.”

They reached a copse of trees, and Fireheart welcomed the cool shade and the familiar woodland smells. High above them two buzzards circled with high-pitched calls, and he could hear the rumbling of a Twoleg monster in the distance. His aching legs tempted him to lie down and rest for a while, but his longing to find Cloudpaw drove him on.