Rising Storm

They traveled swiftly through the forest, which was ringing with birdsong and thick with tempting smells of prey. But there was no time to stop and hunt. Fireheart wanted to be back at camp. Anxiety pricked at his paws, a sense of foreboding that was heightened by the stifling heat. The storm was closing in like a giant cat, preparing to pounce and crush the forest between its mighty paws. Fireheart picked up speed as they neared the camp and crashed down the ravine at full pelt, praying that Tigerclaw had stayed away. He raced through the gorse entrance, leaving Sandstorm and Cloudpaw to follow wearily behind, and emerged, panting, in the clearing. With a rush of relief that left him weak, Fireheart saw that the camp looked just as he had left it.

A few early waking cats were sunning themselves at the edge of the clearing. They looked up, and Fireheart saw their tails flick as they exchanged anxious glances.

Whitestorm padded up to Fireheart. “I’m glad you’re back safely.”

Fireheart dipped his head apologetically. “I’m sorry if I worried you. Ravenpaw came to find me because he said he’d found Cloudpaw.”

“Yes, Brightpaw told me what happened,” meowed Whitestorm.

As he spoke, Sandstorm and Cloudpaw padded from the gorse tunnel, and all the cats turned to stare in surprise at the white apprentice.

Sandstorm padded up to Fireheart and nodded a greeting to Whitestorm. Cloudpaw sat down next to her, curling his tail over his paws and respectfully lowering his eyes.

Whitestorm’s gaze flickered over the apprentice. “We thought you’d gone to live with Twolegs.”

“Yes,” Darkstripe’s mew sounded lazily across the clearing. The striped warrior lay outside his den. “We understood you decided to return to kittypet life.” He pushed himself to his paws and padded to Whitestorm’s side. The other cats watched silently with curious, unblinking eyes as they waited for Cloudpaw’s answer. Fireheart felt his paws prickle with anxiety.

Cloudpaw raised his chin. “I was stolen by the Twolegs!” he announced dramatically.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the Clan; then Ashpaw dashed forward and touched noses with Cloudpaw. “I told them you wouldn’t have wanted to leave!” he mewed.

Cloudpaw nodded. “I hissed and spat and fought, but the Twolegs took me anyway!”

“Typical Twolegs!” Speckletail called from outside the nursery.

Fireheart stared in amazement. Was Cloudpaw going to win the sympathy of the Clan with his one-sided tale?

“I was lucky Ravenpaw found me,” the apprentice went on, letting a desperate edge enter his voice. “He came to get Fireheart to rescue me. If it weren’t for Fireheart and Sandstorm, I’d still be trapped in the Twoleg nest with that dog!”

“Dog?” Patchpelt’s horrified yowl sounded from the fallen oak.

“Did he say dog?” rasped One-Eye, who lay next to him.

“I did,” answered Cloudpaw. “It was loose in the nest with me!”

Fireheart watched as the elders’ eyes filled with alarm.

Ashpaw’s tail flicked in outrage. “Did it attack you?” he meowed.

“Not exactly,” Cloudpaw admitted. “But it did bark a lot.”

“You can tell your denmates all the details later,” Fireheart interrupted him. “You need to rest. All the Clan needs to know for now is that you’ve learned from your experience and that from now on you will follow the warrior code.”

“But I haven’t got to the bit about meeting the WindClan patrol!” objected Cloudpaw.

“A WindClan patrol?” Darkstripe lifted his cold gaze from Cloudpaw to Fireheart. “That explains that scratch on your nose, Fireheart. Did they chase you off?”

Sandstorm glared at the striped warrior. “We chased them off, actually! And Cloudpaw fought like a warrior.”

“Did he?” Whitestorm eyed Cloudpaw with surprise.

“He beat a WindClan apprentice by himself and then helped Sandstorm send Mudclaw running for home,” Fireheart put in.

“Well done.” Mousefur dipped her head to Cloudpaw. Cloudpaw nodded back graciously.

“Is that it?” asked Darkstripe. “Do we just take him back?”

“Well,” began Whitestorm slowly, “that will be for Bluestar to decide, of course. But ThunderClan needs warriors more than ever before. I think we would be foolish to send Cloudpaw away now.”

Darkstripe snorted. “How can we trust this kittypet not to run off again when things get tough?”

“I’m no kittypet. And I didn’t run away,” hissed Cloudpaw. “I was stolen!”

Fireheart saw Darkstripe flex his claws angrily. “Darkstripe’s point is a fair one,” he conceded, reluctantly accepting that the tabby warrior’s misgivings might be shared by the rest of the Clan. It would take more than fine words to persuade the Clan that they should trust this apprentice again. “I’ll go and speak with Bluestar,” he meowed. “Whitestorm is right. It’s up to her to decide.”

Chapter 22

“Fireheart?” Bluestar looked up as he pushed his way through the lichen. She was still huddled in her nest, her fur ruffled and her eyes anxious. Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if she’d moved at all since he’d seen her last.