A Dangerous Path

Chapter 25

Cloudtail and Sandstorm carried Brindleface’s body back to the camp, but there was no time for the mourning rituals. Apparently she had gone out hunting alone very early, and the other cats had only just noticed that she was taking a long time to return. Her burial was a hurried affair, carried out by Cloudtail and her two kits, Fernpaw and Ashpaw, while Fireheart summoned the Clan together.

They returned as Fireheart stood at the foot of the Highrock waiting for the rest of the cats to gather. Cloudtail paced back and forth, his tail lashing fiercely.

“I’ll flay Tigerstar!” he vowed. “I’ll scatter his entrails from here to Highstones. He’s mine, Fireheart, and don’t you forget it.”

“And don’t you forget that you’re under my orders,” Fireheart told him. “Right now we have to deal with the dog pack. We’ll worry about Tigerstar later.”

Cloudtail bared his teeth with a hiss of frustration, but did not argue.

Meanwhile the rest of the Clan were huddling in a shocked and silent crowd around Fireheart. Cinderpelt appeared from Bluestar’s den and limped rapidly across to him.

“Bluestar’s asleep,” she meowed. “Better to tell her about this when we’ve worked out a plan, don’t you think?”

Fireheart nodded, wondering how his leader would react when she found out that all her fears about Tigerstar were true. Would the dreadful knowledge drive her into madness once and for all? Pushing his fear aside, Fireheart turned to address the Clan. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began. “This morning we discovered that there’s a pack of dogs on our territory, living in the caves at Snakerocks.”

Murmuring broke out among the assembled cats, along with a few yowls of defiance. Fireheart guessed that they scarcely believed him, but there was worse news to come. He couldn’t help staring at Darkstripe, but the dark warrior’s expression was unreadable, and Fireheart had no idea how much he already knew.

“Tigerstar has been feeding the dogs,” he went on, struggling to keep his voice calm, “and he has laid a trail of dead rabbits to lead them right into our camp. You all know what lay at the end of that trail.” He dipped his head toward the place outside the camp where Brindleface had been buried.

He had to signal with his tail for silence as a chorus of wailing broke out. He couldn’t help noticing Goldenflower crouched with her head down as she listened to what Tigerstar had done, and he looked instinctively for the two newest apprentices. Tawnypaw was staring at him with horror in her face, but Bramblepaw’s face was hidden. Fireheart wondered if he was equally shocked, or if part of him admired his father for carrying out such a bold plan.

When he could make himself heard again, Fireheart went on: “We have tried to break the trail, but the rabbits have lain there all night, and the pack will follow the scent they left behind. We must all leave—elders, kits, everyone. If the dogs come to the camp they must not find us here.”

More sounds of dismay, this time a low, anxious murmuring. Dappletail, an aged, once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat, called out, “Where shall we go?”

“To Sunningrocks,” Fireheart replied. “Once you’re there, climb the tallest trees you can find. If the dogs follow you, they’ll think they lost the scent on the rocks, and they won’t look for you.”

To his relief, the Clan grew quieter now that he had given them definite orders, though the cats still crouched in grief for Brindleface. Her kits, the apprentices Fernpaw and Ashpaw, were pressed close together with looks of stunned horror on their faces. Fireheart thanked StarClan that the day, although gray and chilly, was dry, and that there were no sick cats or very young kits to make the journey.

“And what about the pack?” Dustpelt asked. “What are we going to do about them?”

Fireheart hesitated. He knew the pack was too strong for his warriors to attack directly. Tigerstar would never have led them to the camp unless he had been certain of that. StarClan help me, he prayed silently. As though his warrior ancestors had heard him, an idea flashed into his mind. “That’s it!” he whispered. “We’ll steal the trail.” As the cats close by stared at him, he repeated more loudly, “We’ll steal the trail!”

“What do you mean?” Sandstorm asked, her green eyes wide.

“Just what I say. Tigerstar wants to lead the dogs right to our camp. Fine. We’ll let him do that. And when they arrive, we’ll be waiting—to take them to the gorge.”

Not far from Fourtrees, on the far side of ThunderClan’s territory, the river foamed between sheer-sided cliffs. The current was fast and strong, and there were sharp rocks concealed just under the surface. If cats had drowned there, why not dogs?

“We’ll need to lure the dogs over the edge,” Fireheart went on, the details of the plan taking shape in his mind as he spoke. “I’ll need warriors who can run fast.” His dark green gaze swept the cats around him. “Graystripe. Sandstorm. Mousefur and Longtail. Dustpelt. And I’m going myself. That should be enough. The rest of you gather by the camp entrance, ready to move out.”

As the cats he had not named began to obey his orders, Fireheart saw Fernpaw and Ashpaw pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

“Fireheart, we want to help,” Fernpaw begged, fixing her shocked, pleading eyes on Fireheart.

“I said warriors,” Fireheart reminded her gently.

“But Brindleface was our mother,” protested Ashpaw. “Please, Fireheart. We want to do it for her.”

“Yes, take them with you,” Whitestorm put in, his voice grave. “Their anger will make them fearless.”

Fireheart hesitated, then saw the intensity in the white warrior’s eyes and nodded. “All right.”

“And what about me?” Cloudtail demanded, his tail beginning to lash again.

“Listen, Cloudtail,” Fireheart meowed. “I can’t take all my best warriors to lure the dogs. Some of you have to look after the rest of the Clan.” Cloudtail opened his mouth to argue, but Fireheart went on quickly: “I’m not giving you an easy job. If we fail, you’re likely to find yourself fighting the dogs—and maybe ShadowClan as well. Think, Cloudtail,” he urged as the warrior still looked unconvinced. “What better revenge could you take on Tigerstar than to make sure that his plans fail and that ThunderClan survives?”

Cloudtail was silent for a moment, his face twisted in grief and anger for Brindleface.

“Don’t forget Lostface,” Fireheart meowed quietly. “She’ll need you now more than ever.”

The young warrior straightened up at the mention of his injured friend and glanced across the clearing to see her limping toward the entrance, guided by Speckletail and the other elders. Her one eye was staring and her sides heaved with terror.

“Right, Fireheart.” Cloudtail sounded utterly determined. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you,” Fireheart called after him as he raced across the clearing to Lostface’s side. “I trust you, Cloudtail.”

As he watched the assembling cats, a movement beyond them caught his eye. Darkstripe was slinking through a gap in the thorn hedge, closely followed by Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw.

Fireheart shot after them and managed to catch up with them as they pushed their way through the thorns. “Darkstripe!” he snapped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The dark warrior turned. There was a flicker of alarm in his eyes, though he faced Fireheart boldly. “I don’t think Sunningrocks is safe,” he meowed. “I was taking these two to a better place. They—”

“What better place?” Fireheart challenged him. “If you know one, why don’t you share it with the rest of the Clan? Unless you mean you’re taking them to Tigerstar?” A surge of fury made him long to spring at Darkstripe and claw him, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Of course, the ShadowClan leader wouldn’t want his kits to be eaten by the dog pack,” he realized out loud. “You’re taking them to him before the dogs get here, aren’t you? I suppose you arranged all this at the last Gathering!”

Darkstripe did not reply. His expression darkened, and he would not meet Fireheart’s eyes.

“Darkstripe, you disgust me,” Fireheart hissed. “You knew Tigerstar meant to bring the dog pack down on us—and you never said a word to any cat! Have you no loyalty to your Clan?”

“I didn’t know!” Darkstripe protested, his head swinging up. “Tigerstar told me to bring his kits to him, but he never told me why. I never knew about the pack; I swear it by StarClan!”

Fireheart wondered how much worth an oath by StarClan could possibly have in this treacherous warrior’s mouth. He swung around to face the two apprentices, who were staring at him, their eyes wide and scared. “What did Darkstripe say to you?”

“N-nothing, Fireheart,” stammered Tawnypaw.

“Only to go with him,” her brother added. “He said he knew a good place to hide.”

“And you obeyed him?” Fireheart’s voice was scathing. “He’s Clan leader now, is he? Or maybe some cat made him your mentor, and I didn’t notice? Follow me, all of you.”

Whipping around, he led the way across the clearing to where the Clan was gathering near the camp entrance. He was half-surprised to see that Darkstripe followed him, as well as Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. Sooner or later, Fireheart knew, he would have to have a reckoning with the dark warrior, but there was no time now.

As he reached the other cats, he summoned Brackenfur with a flick of his tail. “Brackenfur,” he meowed, “I’m making you responsible for these two apprentices. Don’t take your eyes off them, whatever happens. And if Darkstripe so much as sniffs at them, I want to know about it.”

“Yes, Fireheart,” Brackenfur mewed, looking bewildered. Nudging the two apprentices, he herded them away, among the other cats.

Seeing Whitestorm close by, Fireheart padded over to him and jerked his head at Darkstripe. “Keep an eye on that one,” he ordered. “I don’t trust a single hair on his pelt.”

Then he addressed the warriors he had chosen to run ahead of the pack. “If you haven’t eaten today, I suggest you eat now,” he meowed. “You’ll need all your strength. We’ll go soon, but first I have to talk to Bluestar.”

As Fireheart turned toward Bluestar’s den, he realized that Cinderpelt was beside him. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

Fireheart shook his head. “No. Go and help the others get ready to leave. Do what you can to keep them calm.”

“Don’t worry, Fireheart,” the medicine cat assured him. “I’ll take a few basic remedies with me, just in case.”

“Good idea,” Fireheart meowed. “Get Thornpaw to help you. You can leave as soon as Bluestar is ready to join you.”

When he looked into Bluestar’s den, his leader was awake and grooming her fur. “Yes, Fireheart? What is it?”

Fireheart padded into the den and dipped his head. “Bluestar, we have discovered the truth about the evil in the forest,” he began carefully. “We know what the ‘pack’ is.”

Bluestar sat upright and watched Fireheart with unwavering blue eyes as he told her what he and his patrol had seen that morning. As he went on, her face grew blank with horror, and Fireheart’s fears rose again that the discovery would drive her into madness.

“So Brindleface is dead,” she murmured when Fireheart had finished. Bitterly she added, “Soon the rest of the Clan will follow her. StarClan have sent Tigerstar to destroy us. They will not help us now.”

“Perhaps not, Bluestar, but we’re not giving in,” Fireheart insisted, trying not to be panicked. “You must lead the Clan to Sunningrocks.”

Bluestar’s ears flicked. “And what good will that do? We can’t live at Sunningrocks, and even there the pack will hunt us down.”

“If my plan works, you won’t be there for long. Listen.” Fireheart told her how he was hoping to lure the dogs through the forest and drown them in the gorge.

His leader’s gaze grew vague, fixed on something Fireheart could not see. “So you want me to go to Sunningrocks like an elder,” she meowed.

Fireheart hesitated. Telling Bluestar what she should do was a lot harder than giving orders to Cloudtail. “Like a leader,” he told her. “Without you there, the Clan will panic and scatter. They need you to hold them together. Besides,” he added, “don’t forget that this is your last life. If you lost it, what would the Clan do without you?”

Bluestar hesitated. “Very well.”

“Then we should go now.”

Bluestar nodded and led the way out of the den. The bulk of the Clan—all the cats Fireheart had not chosen to come with him—were already huddled together near the entrance to the camp. As Bluestar went to join them, Fireheart flicked his tail to call Whitestorm. “Stay beside her,” he mewed softly. “Look after her.”

Whitestorm dipped his head. “You can rely on me, Fireheart.” The glance he exchanged with Fireheart showed that he understood perfectly how fragile Bluestar’s mind was. He padded at Bluestar’s shoulder as she led the way out of the camp.

Seeing the white warrior, old but still vigorous, beside her, Fireheart was struck all over again by how frail his leader looked. But her presence among them would reassure the other cats, especially the elders.

When the last of the Clan had filed out into the ravine, Fireheart turned to the warriors who remained, crouched beside the burned stalks of the nettle patch. Graystripe and Sandstorm met his gaze, their eyes filled with resolution and fear in equal measure. Fireheart was reminded of the last time he had evacuated the camp, when the fire came, and how three cats had never returned.

But he knew thoughts like that would only push him into panic. He had to be strong for the sake of his Clan. Padding over to his warriors, he meowed, “Are you ready? Then let’s go.”