Rising Storm

The forest seemed to roar around them, and above the noise came a hideous two-tone wailing and the frantic barking of Twolegs as they crashed through the forest. Smoke was billowing thickly into the clearing now, and behind it the light of the fire grew ever brighter as it bore down on the camp.

Not till she was outside did Bluestar begin to run, caught in the jostling stream of cats surging up and out of the ravine. “Head for the river,” Fireheart ordered. “Keep an eye on your denmates. Don’t lose sight of one another.” He felt an eerie calm within him, like a pool of icy water, while noise and heat and panic raged outside.

Fireheart darted back to round up Willowpelt’s kits as they struggled after their mother. She was carrying the smallest one in her mouth, her eyes stricken with fear above the bundle that bumped against her forelegs.

“Where’s Goldenflower?” Fireheart demanded.

Willowpelt signaled with her nose, pointing up the ravine. Fireheart nodded, relieved that at least one queen and her kits were safely out of the camp. He called to Longtail, who was already halfway up the rocky slope. As the warrior scrambled back down, Fireheart scooped up another of Willowpelt’s kits and passed it to Mousefur, who had raced up behind him. He picked up the third, and when Longtail reached his side he gave the kit to him. “Stay near Willowpelt!” he ordered, knowing that the queen would keep running only if she knew her kits were safe.

Fireheart stood at the bottom of the ravine and watched the cats scrambling upward. Clouds of smoke swirled across the sky, hiding Silverpelt from view. Was StarClan watching this? he wondered briefly. He lowered his eyes and saw Bluestar’s thick gray pelt reach the top, bundled along by the other cats. Finally he followed, glancing over his shoulder as he scrambled upward to see fire stretching greedy orange tongues into the ravine, ripping through the bone-dry bracken toward the camp.

Fireheart scrambled onto the ridge. “Wait!” he called to the fleeing cats. They stopped and turned to face him. Smoke stung Fireheart’s eyes as he peered at his Clanmates through the choking clouds. “Is any cat missing?” he demanded, scanning the faces.

“Where are Halftail and Patchpelt?” Cloudpaw’s voice rose in a terrified mew.

Fireheart saw heads turning to look questioningly at one another, and Smallear answered, “They’re not with me.”

“They must still be in camp!” meowed Whitestorm.

“Where’s Bramblekit?” Goldenflower’s desperate wail rose through the trees above the noise of the fire. “He was behind me when I was climbing the ravine!”

Fireheart’s mind reeled. This meant three of the Clan were missing. “I’ll find them,” he promised. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Whitestorm and Darkstripe, make sure the rest of the Clan make it to the river.”

“You can’t go back down there!” Sandstorm protested, forcing her way through the cats to stand beside him. Her green eyes searched his desperately.

“I have to,” Fireheart replied.

“I’m coming too,” Sandstorm told him.

“No!” called Whitestorm. “We are short of warriors already. We need you to help get the Clan to the river.” Fireheart nodded in agreement.

“Then I’ll come!”

Fireheart stared in horror as Cinderpelt limped forward. “I’m no warrior,” she mewed. “I’d be no use anyway if we met an enemy patrol.”

“No way!” Fireheart spat. He could not let Cinderpelt risk her life. Then he saw the matted pelt of Yellowfang as she shouldered her way through the crowd.

“I may be old, but I’m steadier on my paws than you,” the old medicine cat told Cinderpelt. “The Clan will need your healing skills. I’ll go with Fireheart. You stay with the Clan.”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, but Fireheart snapped, “There’s no time to argue. Yellowfang, come with me. The rest of you, head for the river.”

He turned before Cinderpelt could argue and began to pick his way back down the ravine into the smoke and heat below.

Fireheart was terrified, but he forced himself to keep running when he reached the bottom of the ravine. He could hear Yellowfang gasping behind him. The smoke made every breath painful, even for his young lungs. Bright flames flickered just beyond the wall of the camp, tearing greedily at the carefully woven ferns, but they hadn’t reached the clearing yet. The elders’ den was nearest, and Fireheart struggled half-blind toward it. He could hear the crackling of flames as they licked at the far side of the fallen oak. The heat here was so intense, it felt as though the fire would burst into the camp at any moment.

Fireheart saw the shape of Halftail slumped below a branch. Patchpelt lay beside him, his jaws buried in Halftail’s scruff as if he’d been trying to drag his friend to safety when he collapsed.

Fireheart stopped in dismay, but Yellowfang had already rushed past him and began dragging Halftail’s body toward the camp entrance.

“Don’t just stand there,” she growled through a mouthful of fur. “Help me get them out of here.”