Rising Storm

“I…I thought he’d gotten you!” Sandstorm stammered. She crawled along the branch and pressed her flank against Fireheart’s ruffled fur until they both stopped trembling.

The dogs fell silent, but they stayed at the bottom of the tree, pacing back and forth.

“Where’s Ravenpaw?” Sandstorm asked suddenly.

Fireheart shook his head, trying to clear away the terror he had felt when the dogs were chasing him. “He must have run the other way. He should be okay. I think there were only two dogs.”

“I thought this was his territory. Didn’t he know there were dogs on this side of the field too?”

Fireheart couldn’t answer. He saw Sandstorm’s expression darken. “You don’t suppose he led us here on purpose?” she growled, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course not,” snapped Fireheart, a flash of uncertainty making him sound defensive. “Why would he?”

“It’s just strange he should turn up out of nowhere and lead us here, that’s all.”

A high-pitched mew made Fireheart and Sandstorm peer down through the leaves. Was that Ravenpaw? The dogs swung their heads around as they tried to locate the sound. Fireheart spotted a sleek black shape disappearing into the barley. Ravenpaw yowled again, and the dogs pricked up their ears. With barks of excitement they hurtled toward the swaying stems that gave away Ravenpaw’s hiding place.

Fireheart stared down from the tree. Could Ravenpaw outrun the dogs? He watched the barley tremble as Ravenpaw zigzagged invisibly through the field. The brown backs of the dogs crashed after him like ungainly fish, flattening the stalks with their clumsy paws and barking with frustration.

Suddenly Fireheart heard the sharp yap of a Twoleg. The dogs stopped in their tracks and lifted their heads above the barley stalks, their tongues lolling out. Fireheart peered along the field. A Twoleg was climbing over a wooden fence set in the hedge. Two lengths of something like twine dangled from its hand. Reluctantly the dogs began to push their way through the barley toward the Twoleg, who grabbed the collars around their necks and attached them to the twine. With a sigh of relief Fireheart watched the dogs being dragged away, their tails down and their ears drooping.

“I see you’re as fast as ever!”

Fireheart whipped around in surprise. Ravenpaw was clawing his way from the trunk onto their branch. The black cat nodded at Sandstorm. “Not sure why they bothered chasing her, though. She wouldn’t have made much of a meal.”

Sandstorm stood up and brushed past Ravenpaw. “Don’t we have an apprentice to rescue?” she inquired icily.

“I see she’s still a bit prickly,” Ravenpaw remarked.

“I wouldn’t tease her if I were you,” Fireheart murmured as he followed Sandstorm down the tree. He decided not to tell his old friend that Sandstorm had suspected him of leading them into a trap. Ravenpaw was no fool—he’d probably worked that out for himself, but it was a sign of his newfound confidence that he wouldn’t let her hostility bother him. And with the dogs safely out of the way, the only thing Fireheart wanted to think about was finding Cloudpaw.

Ravenpaw led them to the top of the rise and stopped. A Twoleg dwelling lay in the shallow valley ahead of them, just as he had promised.

“That’s where you took Cloudpaw?” Fireheart asked.

When the black cat nodded, Fireheart’s belly began to churn with nervous excitement. Even if they did find Cloudpaw, what if he didn’t want to come back with them? And if he did, would the Clan ever be able to trust a cat who had been lured into the softness of kittypet life?

“I can’t smell him,” Sandstorm remarked, and Fireheart didn’t miss the suspicious edge to her tone.

“His scent was already stale when I came to see him last time,” Ravenpaw explained patiently. “I think the Twolegs are keeping him locked in.”

“Then how exactly are we supposed to rescue him?”

“Come on,” Fireheart meowed, determined not to give the two cats a chance to start arguing. He began to head down the slope toward the dwelling. “Let’s take a closer look.”

The Twoleg dwelling was surrounded by a neatly clipped hedge. Fireheart pushed his way through it and stared across the browning grass to the Twoleg nest silhouetted against the dusky sky. He flattened his body to the ground and crept toward the nearest bush, his ears pricked. His nose was no good here. The evening air was filled with cloying flower scents that drowned out more useful smells. He heard pawsteps on the grass behind him and turned to see Ravenpaw and Sandstorm following, their quarrel apparently put aside for now. He nodded to them, grateful for their company, and carried on across the lawn.

By the time they reached the Twoleg nest, Fireheart could feel the blood pulsing through his ears. Suddenly the hedge, and the safety that lay beyond it, seemed very far away.

“Here’s the window where I saw him,” whispered Ravenpaw, leading the way around the corner of the nest.