Rising Storm

Chapter 6

“StarClan grants us safe passage,” Bluestar repeated stubbornly.

“Go home!” snarled Mudclaw.

Fireheart’s paws tingled as he sized up their opponents. Three strong cats against him and the unfit ThunderClan leader. They would not escape a fight without serious injury, and there was no way he could risk Bluestar’s losing a life—not when he knew that she was on the last of her nine lives, which were granted by StarClan to all Clan leaders.

“We should go home,” Fireheart hissed at Bluestar. The she-cat swung her head around and stared at him in disbelief. “We’re too far from safety and this isn’t a battle we can fight,” he urged her.

“But I must speak with StarClan!” meowed Bluestar.

“Another time,” Fireheart insisted. Bluestar’s eyes clouded with indecision and he added, “We’d not win this battle.”

He twitched with relief as Bluestar retracted her claws and let the fur on her shoulders relax. The ThunderClan leader turned back to Mudclaw and meowed, “Very well, we’ll go home. But we will return. You cannot cut us off from StarClan forever!”

Mudclaw flattened his back and replied, “You’ve made a wise decision.”

Fireheart growled at Mudclaw. “Did you hear what Bluestar said?” Mudclaw narrowed his eyes threateningly, but Fireheart went on: “We will leave this time, but you will never again stop us from traveling to the Moonstone.”

Mudclaw turned away. “We’ll escort you back to Fourtrees.”

Fireheart tensed, afraid of how Bluestar would react to the suggestion that the WindClan warrior did not trust the ThunderClan cats to leave his territory. But she simply padded forward, brushing past the WindClan cats as she headed back the way they had come.

Fireheart walked after her, followed at a distance by the WindClan cats. He was aware of them rustling through the heather behind him, and when he looked over his shoulder he caught glimpses of their lithe, brown shapes among the purple flowers. Frustration pricked at his paws with every step. He would not let WindClan block their way again.

They reached Fourtrees and began to climb back down the rocky slope, leaving the WindClan warriors at the top watching them with hostile, narrowed eyes. Bluestar was starting to look very tired. With each leap she landed heavily and grunted. Fireheart was frightened the she-cat would slip, but she kept her footing until they reached the grass at the bottom. Fireheart looked back up the hill to see the three WindClan cats silhouetted against the wide, glaring sky before they turned and vanished back into their own territory.

As the ThunderClan cats passed the Great Rock, Bluestar let out a long moan. “Are you all right?” Fireheart asked, stopping.

Bluestar shook her head impatiently. “StarClan does not want to share dreams with me,” she muttered. “Why are they so angry with my Clan?”

“WindClan stood in our way, not StarClan,” Fireheart reminded her. But he couldn’t help feeling that StarClan could have brought them better luck. Smallear’s words echoed through his mind: Fireheart’s naming broke with Clan ritual for the first time since before I was born.

Fireheart felt his head spin with alarm. Were the warrior ancestors really angry with Thunderclan?

From the surprised murmurs that greeted their news when Fireheart and Bluestar padded back into camp, Fireheart guessed that the Clan shared his fears. Never before had a leader been turned back on a journey to the Moonstone.

Bluestar padded unsteadily to her den, her eyes fixed on the dusty ground as she crossed the clearing. Fireheart watched her with a heavy heart. Suddenly the sun felt too hot to bear beneath his thick coat. He headed for the shade at the edge of the clearing, and noticed Dustpelt padding toward him from the gorse tunnel, Ashpaw at his heels.

“You’re back early,” meowed the tabby warrior. He circled Fireheart as Ashpaw stood wide-eyed and looked up at the two warriors.

“WindClan wouldn’t let us pass,” Fireheart explained.

“Didn’t you tell them you were going to Highstones?” asked Dustpelt, sitting down beside his apprentice.

“Of course,” snapped Fireheart.

He saw Dustpelt’s eyes flick toward the gorse tunnel and turned to see Darkstripe and Fernpaw enter the camp. Fernpaw looked exhausted as she ran to keep up with her mentor, her fur clumped and dusty.

“What are you doing back?” Darkstripe asked, narrowing his eyes at Fireheart.

“WindClan wouldn’t let them pass,” Dustpelt announced. Fernpaw looked up at Dustpelt, her pretty green eyes round with surprise.

“What? How dare they?” Darkstripe meowed, his tail bristling angrily.

“I don’t know why Fireheart let them boss him around,” commented Dustpelt.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Fireheart growled. “Would you have risked your leader’s safety?”

Runningwind’s meow sounded across the clearing. “Fireheart!” The lean warrior was trotting toward him, looking agitated. Darkstripe and Dustpelt glanced at each other and led their apprentices away. Runningwind reached Fireheart and asked, “Have you seen Cloudpaw anywhere?”

“No.” Fireheart felt his heart lurch. “I thought he was going out with you this afternoon.”

“I told him to wait till I’d washed.” Runningwind seemed more angry than worried. “But when I’d finished, Brightpaw told me he’d gone hunting by himself.”

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart apologized, sighing inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was Cloudpaw’s disobedience. “I’ll speak to him when he gets back.”

Runningwind’s eyes glittered with annoyance and he looked unconvinced by Fireheart’s promise. Fireheart was about to apologize again when he saw Runningwind’s expression turn to disbelief as Cloudpaw scampered into the camp, a squirrel grasped in his jaws. The apprentice’s eyes shone with pride at the catch, which was almost as big as he was. Runningwind snorted with exasperation.

“I’ll sort it out,” Fireheart meowed quickly. He sensed Runningwind had plenty more to say about Cloudpaw, but the warrior just nodded and padded away.

Fireheart watched the white cat carry his squirrel to the fresh-kill pile. Cloudpaw dropped it and wandered toward the apprentices’ den without taking any food for himself, even though there was plenty of prey. With a sinking feeling, Fireheart guessed that Cloudpaw had already eaten while out hunting. How many times could Cloudpaw break the warrior code in a single day? he wondered irritably.

“Cloudpaw!” called Fireheart.

Cloudpaw looked up. “What?” he mewed.

“I want to talk to you.”

As Cloudpaw padded slowly toward him, Fireheart was uncomfortably aware of Runningwind watching from outside the warriors’ den.

“Did you eat while out hunting?” he demanded as soon as Cloudpaw neared.

Cloudpaw shrugged. “So what if I did? I was hungry.”

“What does the warrior code tell us about eating before the Clan is fed?”

Cloudpaw looked at the treetops. “If it’s anything like the rest of the code, it’ll tell me I can’t,” he muttered.

Fireheart pushed away his rising exasperation. “Did you fetch that pigeon?”

“I couldn’t. It was gone.”

With a shock Fireheart realized he didn’t know if he believed Cloudpaw or not. He decided there was no point pursuing it. “Why didn’t you go hunting with Runningwind?” he asked instead.

“He was taking too long to get ready. Anyway, I prefer hunting alone!”

“You’re still just an apprentice,” Fireheart reminded him sternly. “You’ll learn better if you hunt with a warrior.”

Cloudpaw sighed and nodded. “Yes, Fireheart.”

Fireheart had no idea if Cloudpaw had really listened or not. “You’ll never be given your warrior name if you carry on like this! How do you think you’ll feel watching Ashpaw’s and Fernpaw’s naming ceremonies when you’re still an apprentice?”

“That’ll never happen,” Cloudpaw argued.

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll be staying at camp while they go to the next Gathering.”

Finally Fireheart seemed to have Cloudpaw’s attention. The white-haired apprentice stared up at him in disbelief. “But—” he began.

“When I report this to Bluestar, I think she’ll agree with me,” Fireheart interrupted him fiercely. “Now, go away!”

Tail down, Cloudpaw padded off toward the other apprentices, who were watching from outside their den. Fireheart didn’t even bother looking to see if Runningwind had witnessed the scene. Right now he didn’t care what the Clan thought of his apprentice. The opinions of the other cats seemed to pale into insignificance next to his growing fear that Cloudpaw would never become a true warrior.