A Dangerous Path

Chapter 23

Fireheart padded warily through Tallpines toward the Twolegplace. Heavy rain had fallen the night before, so that wet ash and burned debris clung to his paws. All his senses were alert, not for prey, but for any sign that the dark threat in the forest would emerge to attack his small group of cats as it had attacked Swiftpaw and Lostface.

The injured she-cat was following Fireheart now, with Cloudtail at her side, while Graystripe brought up the rear, watchful for anything that might come upon them from behind. They were on their way to visit Cloudtail’s mother, Princess. The young warrior had insisted on bringing Lostface with them.

“You have to leave camp sooner or later,” he had meowed. “We’re not going anywhere near Snakerocks. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Fireheart was amazed at how much Lostface trusted Cloudtail. She was obviously terrified by the thought of venturing outside the shelter of the camp. She jumped at every sound, every crackle of leaves under her paws, yet she kept going, and Fireheart thought he saw in her a return of the courage she had shown when she was Brightpaw.

When they came in sight of the fence at the end of the Twoleg gardens, Fireheart signaled with his tail for his companions to stop. He could not see Princess, but when he opened his mouth to taste the air, he caught her scent.

“Wait here,” he told the others. “Keep a lookout and call me if there’s trouble.”

Checking again to make sure there were no fresh scents of dogs or Twolegs, he raced across the stretch of open ground and leaped up to the top of Princess’s fence. A flash of white among the bushes in her garden alerted him, and a moment later his sister appeared, picking her way fastidiously across the wet grass.

“Princess!” he called softly.

Princess halted and looked up. As soon as she saw Fireheart she bounded over to the fence and scrambled up to sit beside him.

“Fireheart!” she purred, pressing herself against him. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Fireheart replied. “I’ve brought you some visitors—look.”

He pointed with his tail to where the other three cats were crouching on the edge of the trees.

“There’s Cloudpaw!” Princess exclaimed delightedly. “But who are the others?”

“That big gray tom is my friend Graystripe,” Fireheart told her. “You don’t need to worry—he’s much gentler than he looks. And the other cat”—he flinched—“is called Lostface.”

“Lostface!” Princess echoed, opening her eyes wide. “What a horrible name! Why did they call her that?”

“You’ll see,” Fireheart mewed grimly. “She’s been badly hurt, so be kind to her.”

He jumped down from the fence, and after a moment’s hesitation Princess followed him and padded across to where the three cats waited.

Cloudtail ran out to meet his mother, leaving Graystripe with Lostface, and touched noses with her.

“Cloudpaw, it’s ages since I’ve seen you,” Princess purred. “You’re looking wonderful, and haven’t you grown?”

“You’ve got to call me Cloudtail now,” her son announced. “I’m a warrior.”

Princess let out a little trill of joy. “A warrior already? Cloudtail, I’m so proud of you!”

While the tabby queen eagerly questioned her son about his life in the Clan, Fireheart did not forget that danger might be near. “We can’t stay long,” he meowed. “Princess, have you heard anything about a dog loose in the forest?”

Princess turned to him, her eyes wide and scared. “A dog? No, I don’t know anything about that.”

“I think that might have been what the Twolegs were looking for that day Sandstorm and I met you in Tallpines,” Fireheart went on. “I don’t think you should come into the forest alone anymore, not for the time being, anyway. It’s too dangerous.”

“Then you’re in danger all the time,” mewed Princess. Her voice rose in distress. “Oh, Fireheart…!”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Fireheart tried to sound confident. “Just stay in your garden. The dog won’t bother you there.”

“But I worry about you, Fireheart, and Cloudtail. You haven’t got a nest to—Oh!”

Princess had just caught sight of Lostface’s damaged side and could not restrain a squeak of horror. Lostface heard her and crouched closer to the ground, uneasiness showing in her bristling fur.

“Come and meet Lostface,” Cloudtail meowed, giving his mother a hard stare.

Nervously Princess took the few paces that brought her to where Graystripe and Lostface waited. Graystripe nodded to her in greeting, and Lostface gazed up at her with her one good eye.

“Oh, my goodness, whatever happened to you?” Princess blurted out, her paws working on the ground.

“Lostface went out to tackle the dog,” Cloudtail answered. “She was very brave.”

“And it did that to you? Oh, you poor thing!” Princess’s eyes were huger still as she took in the full horror of Lostface’s injuries—the ravaged face, the lost eye, and the shredded ear. “And the same thing could happen to any of you…”

Fireheart gritted his teeth. His sister was saying all the wrong things, and Lostface was gazing at her with deep sadness in her remaining eye. Cloudtail pressed his flank against her and nosed her comfortingly.

“It’s time we were going,” Fireheart decided. “Cloudtail just wanted to give you his news. You’d better get back into your garden.”

“Yes—yes, I will.” Princess backed away, her eyes still fixed on Lostface. “You’ll come and see me again, Fireheart?”

“As soon as I can,” he promised, and added silently, alone.

Princess retreated another pace or two, then turned and dashed for her fence, swarming up it and pausing briefly on the top to meow, “Good-bye!” before vanishing into the safety of her garden.

Cloudtail let out a long breath. “That went well,” he meowed bitterly.

“You can’t blame Princess,” Fireheart told him. “She doesn’t really understand what Clan life is all about. She’s just seen some of the worst of it, and she doesn’t like it.”

Graystripe grunted. “What can you expect from a kittypet? Let’s get home.”

Cloudtail gently nosed Lostface. As she got to her paws, the young cat mewed timidly, “Cloudtail, Princess looked as if she were scared of me. I want—” She broke off, swallowed, and began again. “I want to see myself. Is there a puddle nearby I can look into?”

Fireheart felt a pang of sorrow for the young she-cat, and admiration at her courage in facing what she had become . He turned his eyes to Cloudtail, willing to be guided by the younger cat on what they should do next.

Cloudtail looked around for a moment, then pressed his muzzle against Lostface’s shoulder. “Come with me,” he meowed. He led her to where some of the previous night’s rain still lay in a puddle among the roots of a tree, and nudged the ginger-and-white she-cat to the edge of the shining water. Together they stood looking down. Cloudtail did not flinch away from what he saw reflected there, and Fireheart felt another rush of warmth toward his former apprentice.

Lostface stood rigid for several heartbeats, gazing into the water. Her body stiffened and her single eye opened wide. “Now I see,” she mewed quietly. “I’m sorry if the other cats feel upset when they look at me.”

Fireheart watched as Cloudtail turned her away from the terrible sight and covered the injured side of her face with slow, gentle licks. “You’re still beautiful to me,” he told her. “You always will be.”

Fireheart felt almost overwhelmed by his pity for the young she-cat, and his pride in Cloudtail for being so faithful to her. Padding over to them, he meowed, “Lostface, it doesn’t matter what you look like. We’re still your friends.”

Lostface dipped her head to him gratefully.

“Lostface!” Cloudtail spat suddenly. The venom in his voice startled Fireheart. “I hate that name,” he hissed. “What right does Bluestar have to remind her of what happened every time a cat speaks to her? Well, I’m not going to use it again. And if Bluestar objects, she can…she can go and eat snails!”

Fireheart knew he ought to rebuke the young warrior for his disrespectful words, but he said nothing. He had a good deal of sympathy for Cloudtail’s point of view. Lostface was a cruel name, a symbol of Bluestar’s continuing war with StarClan, given without any thought for the cat who bore it. But the name had been given to the ginger-and-white she-cat in a formal ceremony watched by StarClan, and there was nothing Fireheart could do about it now.

“Are we standing about here all day?” Graystripe asked.

Fireheart heaved a deep sigh. “No, let’s go.” The time was coming when he and his warriors would have to confront whatever had turned them into prey in their own territory.

Fireheart dreamed he was padding through a forest clearing in newleaf. Sunlight streamed through the trees, making dappled patterns of light and shade that shifted as the leaves stirred in the breeze. He paused and opened his mouth so that he could taste the air. Very faintly he made out a familiar sweet scent, and a quiver of happiness ran through him.

“Spottedleaf?” he whispered. “Spottedleaf, are you there?”

For a moment he thought he could see bright eyes shining at him from the depths of a clump of ferns. Warm breath caressed his ear, and a voice murmured, “Fireheart, remember the enemy that never sleeps.”

Then the vision faded, and he woke to find himself in the warrior’s den with the cold light of a day in leaf-bare striking him through the branches.

Still clutching at the last sheds of his dream, Fireheart stretched and shook scraps of moss from his fur. It was several moons since Spottedleaf had first warned him to beware of the enemy that never slept. That had been shortly before Tigerstar attacked the ThunderClan camp with his band of rogues—just when Fireheart had hoped that the treacherous deputy’s exile had sent him away for good.

The thought of Tigerstar reminded Fireheart of the most recent Gathering. There was no doubt now that the former deputy wanted Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, and in spite of what he said to Bluestar, Fireheart was sure that he would not be prepared to wait. Even though Fireheart was not surprised at Tigerstar’s demand, there could be no question of handing them over. Part of Fireheart would have been relieved to see them go, to put an end to his own feelings of mistrust and guilt, but these were ThunderClan kits, and the warrior code demanded that the Clan should do everything to keep them.

A rustle in the bedding behind him told Fireheart that Sandstorm was waking up. He cast an uneasy glance at her. “Sandstorm…” he began.

The ginger she-cat glared at him as she shook herself and stood up. “I’m going hunting,” she spat. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Without waiting for a reply, she padded across the den and prodded Dustpelt. “Come on, you lazy furball,” she meowed. “All the prey will die of old age before you get out there.”

“I’ll find Cloudtail for you,” Fireheart offered hastily, and slipped out of the den. Sandstorm clearly wasn’t going to welcome any attempt to be friendly.

The day was gray and cold, and as he paused to taste the air a drop of rain stung him in the face. On the far side of the clearing Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw were sitting with the other apprentices outside their den. “Bramblepaw, I’ll take you hunting later!” Fireheart called.

His apprentice got to his paws, dipped his head in acknowledgment, and sat down again with his back to Fireheart. Fireheart sighed. Sometimes it felt as if every cat in the Clan had a reason to dislike him.

He headed for the elders’ den, guessing that Cloudtail would be with Lostface. Even though the injured cat had been in the elders’ den for a few days now, Cloudtail still spent all his spare time with her. When Fireheart reached the burned-out shell of the fallen tree where the elders lived, he saw the white tom seated near the entrance to the den. His tail was curled around his paws while he watched Lostface gently examining Dappletail’s pelt for ticks.

“Is she okay?” Fireheart murmured, his voice low so that Lostface would not hear him.

“Of course she’s okay,” another voice snapped.

Fireheart turned to see Speckletail. The desolate look that she had worn since Snowkit’s death had vanished. Her temper clearly hadn’t softened, but her eyes glowed with affection as she looked at Lostface. “She’s a fine young cat. Have you found out what hurt her?”

Fireheart shook his head. “It’s a real help that you can look after her, Speckletail,” he meowed.

Speckletail sniffed. “Hmmm. I sometimes get the feeling that she thinks she has to look after me.” She looked sharply at Fireheart, and he was saved from having to answer by One-eye.

“Did you want something, Fireheart?” asked the elderly pale gray she-cat, looking up from her washing.

“I was looking for Cloudtail. Sandstorm’s ready to go out hunting.”

“What?” Cloudtail sprang to his paws. “Why didn’t you say so? She’ll claw my ears off if I keep her waiting!” He dashed off.

“Mouse-brain,” muttered Speckletail, but Fireheart suspected that she was as fond of the young warrior as all the elders.

Saying good-bye to Lostface and One-eye, he padded into the clearing in time to see Sandstorm leaving at the head of her hunting patrol. Brindleface was saying good-bye to them, gazing proudly at her foster kit.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” she mewed anxiously. “None of us know what’s out there.”

“Don’t worry.” Cloudtail flicked her affectionately with his tail. “If we meet the dog, I’ll bring it back for fresh-kill.”

At the entrance to the camp the patrol passed Longtail on his way in. The pale warrior was shaking as if with cold, and his eyes were staring. Instantly alarmed, Fireheart crossed the clearing to meet him.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

Longtail shuddered. “Fireheart, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“What’s the problem?”

As he drew closer, Fireheart caught an unexpected scent on Longtail’s fur—the stench of the Thunderpath. The acrid scent was unmistakable, and Fireheart’s alarm turned to suspicion.

“Where have you been?” he growled. “To ShadowClan, maybe, to see Tigerstar? Don’t try to deny it; your fur stinks of the Thunderpath!”

“Fireheart, it’s not what you think.” Longtail sounded worried. “Okay, I did go that way, but I didn’t go anywhere near ShadowClan. I went to Snakerocks.”

“Snakerocks? What for?” Fireheart wasn’t sure that he could believe anything the pale warrior told him.

“I’ve scented Tigerstar there,” Longtail explained. “Two or three times lately.”

“And you didn’t report it?” Fireheart felt his fur bristle with fury. “A cat from another Clan on our territory—a murderer and a traitor, what’s more—and you didn’t report it?”

“I…I thought…” stammered Longtail.

“I know what you thought,” Fireheart snarled. “You thought, ‘This is Tigerstar. He can do what he likes.’ Don’t lie to me. You and Darkstripe were his allies when he was in ThunderClan, and you’re still his allies now. It was you or Darkstripe who told him about Swiftpaw and Lostface—don’t try to deny it.”

“It was Darkstripe.” Longtail scuffled the dry earth with his paws.

“So that traitor could accuse Bluestar of negligence in front of the entire Gathering,” Fireheart concluded grimly. “So you could help him steal a couple of apprentices from this Clan. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re plotting with Tigerstar to steal his kits.”

“No—no, you’ve got it wrong,” meowed Longtail. “I don’t know anything about that. Darkstripe and Tigerstar often meet together on the border by the Thunderpath, but they don’t tell me what it’s about.” He glared resentfully. “Anyway, this isn’t about the kits at all. I went to Snakerocks to find out what Tigerstar was doing there. And I found something that you need to see.”

Fireheart stared at him. “You want me to come with you, to Snakerocks—where you admit you’ve scented Tigerstar? Do you think I’m quite mad?”

“But, Fireheart—”

“Silence!” Fireheart hissed. “You and Darkstripe were always Tigerstar’s allies. Why should I trust what you say now?”

He turned and stalked away. He was convinced that Longtail and Darkstripe were setting a trap for him, just as Tigerstar had once set a trap for Bluestar beside the Thunderpath. If he were mouse-brained enough to go with Longtail to Snakerocks, he might never come back.

He found that his paws had taken him to the medicine cat’s clearing. As he brushed through the ferns, Cinderpelt put her head out of the cleft in the rock.

“Who—Fireheart! What’s the matter?”

Fireheart halted, trying to get his anger under control.

Cinderpelt’s blue eyes widened in consternation; she padded to his side and pressed her gray flank against him. “Steady, Fireheart. What got you worked up like this?”

“It’s just…” Fireheart flicked his tail toward the main clearing. “Longtail. I’m convinced he and Darkstripe are plotting against the Clan.”

Cinderpelt narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think that?”

“Longtail wants to lure me out to Snakerocks. He told me he scented Tigerstar there. I think they’re setting a trap for me.”

Dismay spread over the medicine cat’s face, but when she spoke her words were not what Fireheart had expected.

“Fireheart—do you know how much you sound like Bluestar?”

Fireheart opened his mouth to reply, and could not. What did Cinderpelt mean? He was nothing like Bluestar, with her irrational fears that every cat in the Clan was trying to betray her. Or was he? He forced himself to relax, letting the fur on his shoulders lie flat again.

“Come on, Fireheart,” Cinderpelt urged. “If he meant to lead you into a trap with Tigerstar, would he tell you he’d scented him? Even Longtail isn’t as mouse-brained as that!”

“I…suppose not,” Fireheart admitted reluctantly.

“Then why don’t you go and ask him what it’s all about?” As he hesitated, she added, “I know he and Darkstripe were Tigerstar’s friends when he was here, but Longtail at least seems to be loyal to the Clan now. Besides, if he is tempted to betray the Clan, you won’t help by refusing to listen when he tries to tell you something. That’s just pushing him into Tigerstar’s paws.”

“I know.” Fireheart sighed. “I’m sorry, Cinderpelt.”

Cinderpelt let out a little purr and touched her nose to his. “Go and talk to him. I’ll come with you.”

Bracing himself, Fireheart headed out into the clearing again, looking around for Longtail. A chill ran through him as he realized that he might have already driven the pale warrior out in search of Tigerstar, but when he checked the warriors’ den he was there, crouched in a huddle with Whitestorm.

“Whitestorm, you’ve got to listen to me,” Longtail was meowing as Fireheart and Cinderpelt entered. There was real fear in his voice. “Fireheart thinks I’m a traitor, and he won’t have anything to do with me.”

“Well, it seems like you’ve been meeting Tigerstar and telling him our news,” Whitestorm pointed out reasonably.

“Not me—Darkstripe,” Longtail protested.

Whitestorm shrugged, as if he weren’t interested in arguing. “All right, go on. What’s the problem?”

“There are dogs living at Snakerocks,” Longtail blurted out.

“Dogs? Have you seen them?” Fireheart interrupted. Both his warriors looked up as he padded over to them, with Cinderpelt just behind.

“You’re sure you want to hear?” Longtail said accusingly. “You’re not going to charge me with plotting again, are you?”

“I’m sorry about that,” Fireheart mewed. “Tell me about the dog.”

“Dogs, Fireheart,” meowed Longtail. “A whole pack of them.” Fireheart’s blood turned to ice at the word pack, but he said nothing, and Longtail went on. “I told you I scented Tigerstar over at Snakerocks. I…I thought I should warn him about the danger there—and I wanted to know what he was doing so far into ThunderClan territory. Well, I found out.” He shuddered.

“Go on,” Fireheart urged. He realized how wrong he had been; Longtail really did have important news to report.

“You know the caves?” Longtail meowed. “I was just coming up to them when I saw Tigerstar, but he didn’t see me. I thought he was stealing prey at first because he was dragging a dead rabbit along, but he left it on the ground just outside the cave entrance.” He broke off, his eyes clouding with terror as he saw again something unseen by the other cats.

“And then?” Whitestorm prompted.

“Then this…this creature appeared out of the cave. I swear it was the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. Forget the stupid things that come with Twolegs. This was huge. I only saw its front paws and its head…enormous slavering jaws, and you’ve never seen such teeth.” Longtail’s eyes were wide with the memory of fear.

“It snatched the rabbit and dragged it into the cave,” he continued. “And then the howling and barking started. It sounded as if there were more dogs in there, all fighting over the rabbit. It was hard to understand what they were saying, but I think they were saying ‘pack, pack’ and ‘kill, kill.’”

Fireheart stiffened, every limb locked in terror, and Cinderpelt mewed quietly, “Those were the words in my dream.”

“And what Lostface said,” Fireheart added. He knew at last what terrible creatures had attacked the young she-cat. He remembered that StarClan had warned Bluestar about a pack. Longtail had discovered the true nature of the evil in the forest, the force that had turned the cats into prey, the hunters into hunted. Not a single dog, separated from its Twolegs, but a whole pack of savage creatures. Fireheart could not imagine where they had come from, but he knew that StarClan would never have unleashed such destruction and risked the balance of life in the whole forest. “And you say Tigerstar fed these dogs?” he questioned Longtail. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know,” the pale warrior admitted. “When he dropped the rabbit, he jumped on top of the rock. I don’t think the first dog saw him. Then he went away.”

“You didn’t speak to him?”

“No, Fireheart, I didn’t. He never knew I was there. I’ll swear by anything you like—by StarClan, by the life of Bluestar—I don’t know what Tigerstar is doing.”

His fear convinced Fireheart. He had been expecting an attempt by Tigerstar to steal the kits, but this was something far more complicated. How could he ever have imagined that the ShadowClan leader would give up his grudge against ThunderClan? He realized that he should have been more afraid of Tigerstar all along. Somehow he was linked to the dark force in the forest. Yet Fireheart didn’t know what Tigerstar wanted with the dogs, or what advantage he could gain by feeding them.

“What do you think?” he asked Whitestorm.

“I think we need to investigate,” meowed the older warrior grimly. “And I’m just wondering how much Darkstripe knows about all this.”

“So am I,” agreed Fireheart. “But I’m not going to ask him. If he is in league with Tigerstar, he won’t tell us anything useful.” Rounding on Longtail, he added, “Don’t you dare say a word to Darkstripe about this. Stay away from him.”

“I…I will, Fireheart,” the pale warrior stammered.

“We still need to know why Tigerstar is taking such an enormous risk, feeding fresh-kill to these dogs,” Whitestorm went on. “If you want to lead a patrol up to Snakerocks, I’ll come with you.”

Fireheart looked upward, judging the light. “It’s too late today,” he decided. “By the time we reached Snakerocks, it would be getting dark. But we’ll go at dawn tomorrow. I’ll find out what Tigerstar thinks he’s up to, if it’s the last thing I do.”