Rising Storm

Fireheart stared in dismay as spasms racked her frail body. Bluestar was the leader of the Clan! It was she who’d taught him about StarClan and the way the warrior spirits watched over the forest. Fireheart couldn’t believe she would reject the beliefs she had based her whole life upon.

“Y-you don’t have to honor StarClan,” he stammered at last. “Just be there to represent your own Clan. They need your strength now.”

Bluestar looked at him for a long moment. “My kits needed me once, but I gave them to another Clan to raise,” she whispered. “And why? Because StarClan told me I had a different destiny. Is this it? To be attacked by traitors? To watch my Clan die around me? StarClan was wrong. It was not worth it.”

Fireheart felt his blood turn to ice. He turned and padded blindly out of the den. Sandstorm had replaced Longtail outside. Fireheart looked hopefully at the pale orange warrior, but she clearly hadn’t forgiven his harsh words, because she fixed her eyes on her paws and let him pass without speaking.

Feeling unsettled, Fireheart spotted Whitestorm trotting back into camp with the sunhigh patrol. He signaled to the white warrior with his tail, and Whitestorm headed toward him while the rest of the patrol split up in search of food and a place to rest.

“Bluestar isn’t well enough to attend the Gathering,” Fireheart meowed when Whitestorm reached him.

The elderly warrior shook his head as if the news came as no surprise. “There was a time when nothing would have kept Bluestar from a Gathering,” he observed quietly.

“We should take a party anyway,” Fireheart told him. “The other Clans must be warned about Tigerclaw. His group of rogues is a threat to all the Clans.”

Whitestorm nodded. “We could tell them Bluestar is ill, I suppose,” he suggested. “But we might be inviting trouble if we let it be known that our leader is weak.”

“It would be worse not to go at all,” Fireheart pointed out. “The other Clans will know about the fire. We must appear to be as strong as we can.”

“WindClan is clearly still hostile,” Whitestorm agreed.

“The fact that Sandstorm, Cloudpaw, and I fought them and won in their own territory won’t have helped,” Fireheart admitted. “And there’s RiverClan to consider.”

Whitestorm curiously looked at him. “But they gave us shelter after the fire.”

“I know,” Fireheart replied. “But I can’t help wondering if Leopardfur might demand something in return.”

“We have nothing to give.”

“We have Sunningrocks,” Fireheart answered. “RiverClan made no secret of their interest in that part of the forest, and right now we need every bit of our territory for hunting.”

“At least ShadowClan is weakened by sickness,” meowed Whitestorm. “That’s one Clan that won’t be attacking us for a while.”

“Yes,” agreed Fireheart, feeling guilty that they should be helped by another Clan’s suffering. “Actually, the news about Tigerclaw might work in our favor.” Whitestorm stared at him, puzzled, and Fireheart went on: “If I can persuade the other Clans that he’s a threat to them as well as us, they might put all their energy into protecting their own borders.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly. “It might be our best hope of keeping them away from our territory while we recover our strength. You’re right, Fireheart. We must go to the Gathering, even if Bluestar is unable to come with us.” His blue gaze met Fireheart’s, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing. Bluestar was able to go if she wanted—but she chose not to.

As the sun set, the cats began to take fresh-kill from the meager pile they had collected. Fireheart helped himself to a tiny shrew, which he carried to the nettle clump and gulped down in a few hungry mouthfuls. The Clan’s bellies hadn’t been full for days. The prey was returning, but slowly, and Fireheart knew they had to be careful about how much they caught. The forest must have a chance to replenish itself before they could eat their fill once more.

Once the cats had finished their paltry meal, Fireheart got to his paws and padded across the clearing. He felt the eyes of the Clan follow him as he leaped onto the Highrock. There was no need to call them—they gathered below with questioning eyes in the fading evening light.

“Bluestar will not be coming to this Gathering,” he announced.

Mews of alarm ripped through the cats, and Fireheart saw Whitestorm weaving among them, calming and reassuring them. How much had the Clan guessed about their leader’s state of mind? In the RiverClan camp they had united to protect Bluestar from prying eyes. But here in their own camp, her weakness left them vulnerable and afraid.

Tigerclaw’s tabby kit sat outside the nursery, staring up at the Highrock with round, curious eyes. For a moment Fireheart let himself be mesmerized by its yellow gaze, and images of Tigerclaw began to prowl around the edges of his mind.

“Does this mean ThunderClan won’t attend?” He was roused by Darkstripe’s voice as the striped warrior shouldered his way to the front. “After all, what is a Clan without a leader?”