Into the Wild (21 page)

Firepaw felt a tremor of anxiety in his belly. Bluestar may have accepted Yellowfang into ThunderClan, but it looked like the old cat was still not trusted by all of the Clan. He touched his nose affectionately to Brindleface's flank, then turned and made his way out into the clearing.

The Clan leader was waiting for Firepaw at the entrance to her den. Longtail sat at her side. The pale tabby warrior stared hard at Firepaw as he approached. Firepaw ignored his gaze and looked expectantly at Bluestar.

“Come inside,” she meowed, turning to lead the way. Firepaw trotted after her. Longtail immediately stood up as if to follow them.

Bluestar looked back at him over her shoulder. “I think I'll be safe enough with young Firepaw,” she meowed. Longtail looked uncertain for a moment, then sat down again outside the entrance.

Firepaw had never been inside Bluestar's den. He padded after her through the lichen that draped its entrance. “Brindleface's kits are lovely,” he purred.

Bluestar looked serious. “Lovely they may be, but they
mean more mouths to feed, and the season of leaf-bare will soon be here.” Then she glanced at Firepaw, who was unable to hide his surprise at her melancholy tone. “Oh, don't listen to me,” meowed Bluestar, shaking her head impatiently. “The first cold wind always worries me. Come; make yourself comfortable.” She tipped her head toward the dry, sandy floor.

Firepaw dropped onto his belly and stretched his paws out in front of him.

Bluestar circled slowly on her mossy nest. “I'm still aching from our training session yesterday,” she admitted when she had finally settled herself and curled her tail around her paws. “You fought well, young one.”

For once, Firepaw didn't stop to bask in her praise. His heart was thumping. This was the perfect moment to tell his leader his fears about Tigerclaw. He lifted his chin, ready to speak.

But it was Bluestar who spoke first, staring past him at the far wall of her den. “I can still smell the stale stench of ShadowClan in the camp,” she murmured. “I hoped never to see the day when our enemy broke into the heart of ThunderClan.” Firepaw nodded in silent agreement, sensing Bluestar was going to say more.

“And so many deaths.” She sighed. “First Redtail, then Lionheart. I thank StarClan at least the warriors we have left are strong and loyal like them. At least with Tigerclaw as deputy, ThunderClan may still be able to defend itself.” Firepaw's heart plummeted and an icy chill cut deep into him as Bluestar went on. “There was a time, when Tigerclaw was
a young warrior, that I feared for the strength of his passion. Such energy can need careful channeling. But now I am proud to see how much respect the Clan has for him. I know he is ambitious, but his ambition makes him one of the bravest cats I have ever had the honor to fight alongside.”

Firepaw knew at once that he could not tell Bluestar his suspicions about Tigerclaw. Not when Bluestar looked to her deputy to protect the whole Clan. He would have to save Ravenpaw himself. He took a deep breath and blinked slowly, so that when Bluestar turned and looked directly into his eyes, no trace of his shock and disappointment remained.

Her next words were quiet and full of concern. “You know Brokenstar will return. He made it clear at the Gathering that he wants hunting rights in all the territories.”

“We fought him off once. We can do it again,” Firepaw insisted.

“That's true,” Bluestar acknowledged with a wry nod. “StarClan will honor your courage, young Firepaw.” She paused and licked a healing wound on her side. “I think you ought to know that, in the battle with the rats, it was not my fifth life that I lost, but my seventh.”

Firepaw sat bolt upright, shocked.

Bluestar went on. “I have let the Clan believe it was my fifth because I don't want them to fear for my safety. But two more lives, and I will have to leave you to join StarClan.”

Firepaw's mind was racing. Why was she telling him this? “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bluestar,” he purred respectfully.

Bluestar nodded. “I am tired now,” she rasped. “Off you go. And Firepaw, I don't expect you to repeat this conversation to anyone.”

“Of course, Bluestar,” Firepaw replied as he nosed his way out through the curtain of lichen.

Longtail was still sitting by the entrance. Firepaw stepped past him and made his way toward his den. He didn't know which part of his conversation with Bluestar had been more bewildering.

He was stopped in his tracks by a yowl of horror coming from the nursery. Frostfur came sprinting into the clearing, her tail bristling and her eyes wide with alarm. “My kits! Someone has taken my kits!”

Tigerclaw bounded over to her. He called to the Clan, “Quick, search the camp! Whitestorm, stay where you are. Warriors, patrol the camp boundary. Apprentices, search every den!”

Firepaw rushed to the nearest den, the warriors', and pushed his way inside. It was empty. He scrabbled through the bedding with his paws but there was neither sight nor scent of Frostfur's kits.

He charged outside and headed for his own den. Ravenpaw and Graypaw were already inside, pushing aside their nests, sniffing every corner. Dustpaw and Sandpaw were searching the elders' den. Firepaw left them to it and charged from one clump of grass to another, pushing his muzzle into them, ignoring the nettles that stung his nose. There was no sign of the kits anywhere. He looked around the camp
boundary. Warriors paced backward and forward, urgently sniffing the air.

Suddenly Firepaw spotted Yellowfang in the distance. She was pushing her way through an unguarded part of fern wall. She must have found a scent, he thought, and raced toward her as her tail disappeared into the greenery. By the time he arrived at the fern wall, she had gone. He sniffed the air. No kit-scent, just the bitter smell of Yellowfang's fear. What was she afraid of? Firepaw wondered.

Tigerclaw's yowl sounded from the bushes behind the nursery. All the cats raced over to him, headed by Frostfur. They crowded as closely as they could, jostling to see through the dense undergrowth. Firepaw nosed his way forward and saw Tigerclaw standing over a motionless bundle of dappled fur.

Spottedleaf!

Firepaw stared in disbelief at her lifeless body. Fury rose in him like a dark cloud, and he felt the blood roaring in his ears. Who had done this?

Bluestar stepped through the crowd and leaned over the medicine cat. “She has been killed by a warrior blow,” she meowed softly.

Firepaw craned his neck and saw a single wound on the back of Spottedleaf's neck. His head swam and suddenly he was unable to see clearly.

Through his grief, Firepaw heard a murmur at the back of the crowd that swelled into a single piercing yowl.

“Yellowfang is gone!”

“Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf and taken
my kits!” screeched Frostfur. The other queens rushed to Frostfur's side and tried to calm her with licks and caresses, but Frostfur pushed them away and wailed her grief to the darkening sky. As if in reply, the sky rumbled ominously and a cold wind ruffled the cats' fur.

“Yellowfang!” hissed Tigerclaw. “I always knew she was a traitor. Now we know how she managed to fight off the ShadowClan deputy. It was a setup to let her trick her way into our Clan!”

Lightning crackled overhead, punctuating Tigerclaw's words with a glaring white flash, and a clap of thunder rolled around the woods.

Firepaw couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dazed with grief, his mind whirled. Could Yellowfang really have killed Spottedleaf?

Above the shocked murmurings, Darkstripe meowed loudly, “Bluestar! What do you say?”

The cats fell silent as they turned to look at their leader.

Bluestar's gaze moved across the crowd of cats, and settled
finally on Spottedleaf's body. The first drops of rain began to fall, sparkling like dewdrops on the medicine cat's still-glossy fur.

Bluestar blinked slowly. Grief clouded her face, and for a moment Firepaw was afraid that this new death would overwhelm her. But when her eyes opened they glittered with a fierceness that showed her determination to seek revenge for this cruel attack. She lifted her head. “If Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf and stolen Frostfur's kits, she will be hunted down without mercy.” The crowd meowed approvingly. “But we must wait,” Bluestar went on. “There is a storm coming, and I am not prepared to risk more lives. If ShadowClan has our kits, they will come to no immediate harm. I suspect Brokenstar wants them as recruits for his own Clan, or as hostages—to force us to let him hunt in our territory. As soon as the storm has passed, a patrol will follow Yellowfang and bring back our kits.”

“We cannot waste time, or the scent will be lost in the rain!” Tigerclaw protested.

Bluestar flicked her tail impatiently. “If we send out a hunting party now, our efforts will be wasted anyway. In this weather the scent will already be lost by the time we are ready. If we wait until after the storm, we stand a better chance of success.”

There were murmurs of agreement among the Clan. Even though it was barely sunhigh, the sky was growing much darker. The cats were unsettled by the lightning and thunder, and seemed willing to listen to their leader's advice.

Bluestar looked at her deputy. “I'd like to discuss our plans with you, please, Tigerclaw.” Tigerclaw nodded and stalked away toward Bluestar's den, but the leader hesitated. She glanced at Firepaw, signaling with a flick of her tail and a ripple of her whiskers that she wanted to speak to him alone.

The other cats gathered around Spottedleaf and began to share tongues with her, their wails of grief sounding above the thunder. Bluestar wound her way through them and went toward the fern tunnel that led to Spottedleaf's den.

Firepaw quietly skirted the mourning cats and followed her inside. It was very dark beneath the ferns. The storm had blotted out the morning sun so that it seemed as if night had fallen. Rain was falling more heavily now, spattering noisily against the leaves, but at least it was sheltered in Spottedleaf's clearing.

“Firepaw,” Bluestar meowed urgently as he arrived at her side, “where is Yellowfang? Do you know?”

Firepaw hardly heard her. He couldn't help remembering the last time he had come to this clearing. An image of Spottedleaf, trotting out of her den with her coat gleaming in the sunlight, burned in his mind, and he closed his eyes to preserve it.

“Firepaw,” snapped Bluestar, “you must save your grieving for later.”

Firepaw shook himself. “I . . . I saw Yellowfang go through the camp boundary after the kits went missing. Do you really think she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits?”

Bluestar gazed steadily at him. “I don't know,” she admitted.
“I want you to find her and bring her back—alive. I need to know the truth.”

“You're not sending Tigerclaw?” Firepaw couldn't help asking.

“Tigerclaw is a great warrior, but in this case his loyalty to the Clan may cloud his judgment,” Bluestar explained. “He wants to give the Clan the vengeance it desires. No cat can blame him for that. The Clan believes Yellowfang has betrayed us, and if Tigerclaw thinks he can reassure the Clan by handing them the dead body of Yellowfang, that's what he will do.”

Firepaw nodded. She was right—Tigerclaw would kill Yellowfang without question.

Bluestar looked stern for a moment. “If I find that Yellowfang is a traitor, then I will kill her myself. But if she is not . . .” Her blue eyes burned into Firepaw's. “I will not let an innocent cat die.”

“But what if Yellowfang won't come back?” Firepaw meowed.

“She will, if
you
ask her.”

Firepaw felt stunned by Bluestar's faith in him. The enormity of what she was asking him to do weighed down on him, and he wondered if he had enough courage to carry it through.

“Go at once!” she ordered. “But be careful; you will be on your own and there may be enemy patrols about. This storm will keep our own warriors in camp for a while.”

Thunder rolled overhead as Firepaw dashed out into the clearing. Rain hammered down, pelting against his fur like
tiny stones. A bolt of lightning lit up the faces of Darkstripe and Longtail as they watched him cross the clearing.

Firepaw bounded past the nursery. He couldn't leave without sharing tongues with Spottedleaf. The other cats had run for shelter, abandoning the medicine cat's body to the downpour while they huddled beneath the dripping ferns, meowing their fear and loss.

Firepaw buried his nose in Spottedleaf's wet fur and breathed in her scent one last time. “Good-bye, my sweet Spottedleaf,” he murmured.

His ears pricked as he overheard the voices of Frostfur and Speckletail talking nearby. He froze, straining to listen.

“Yellowfang must have had help,” Speckletail growled.

“Someone from
ThunderClan
?” came the anxious voice of Frostfur.

“You've heard what Tigerclaw's been saying about Ravenpaw. Perhaps he had something to do with it. I've never felt comfortable with him, myself.”

The fur on Firepaw's spine prickled. If Tigerclaw had been spreading his malicious rumors as far as the nursery, Ravenpaw wouldn't be safe anywhere in the camp.

Firepaw realized he had to act quickly. He would find Yellowfang first, then deal with Ravenpaw. He raced to the spot where he had last seen Yellowfang. He knew her scent so well that he could even smell it through the rain-soaked leaves. He began to push through the bushes, mouth open, to detect where her trail led.

“Firepaw!”

Firepaw jumped and then relaxed as he realized it was Graypaw's voice.

“I've been looking for you!” mewed his friend as he rushed toward him.

Firepaw gingerly stepped back out of the ferns.

Graypaw squinted as rain dripped down his long fur and into his eyes. “Where are you going?” he mewed.

“To look for Yellowfang,” Firepaw replied.

“On your own?” Graypaw's broad gray face showed concern.

Firepaw thought for a moment and decided to tell Graypaw the truth. “Bluestar asked me to bring Yellowfang back,” he mewed.

“What?” Graypaw looked shocked. “Why
you
?”

“Maybe she thinks I know Yellowfang best, and that I'd find her more easily.”

“Wouldn't a party of warriors stand more of a chance?” Graypaw pointed out. “Tigerclaw's the best tracker in the Clan, and if anyone could bring her back,
he
could.”

“Maybe Tigerclaw wouldn't bring her back,” Firepaw murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“Tigerclaw's out for revenge. He would just kill her.”

“But if she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits . . .”

“Do you really believe that?” Firepaw asked.

Graypaw looked at his friend, shaking his head in confusion. “Do you think she's innocent?” he mewed.

“I don't know,” Firepaw admitted. “And neither does Bluestar. She wants to find out the truth. That's why she's sending
me instead of Tigerclaw.”

“But if she
ordered
Tigerclaw to bring her back alive . . .” Graypaw's words were drowned by a deafening crack of thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the trees around them.

In the dazzling light, Firepaw glimpsed Frostfur chasing Ravenpaw away from the nursery. The white queen's face was twisted with fury as she hissed at the young black cat and lunged forward to give him a warning nip on the hind leg.

Graypaw turned to Firepaw. “What's
that
all about?” he mewed.

Firepaw stared back at his friend, his mind leaping ahead to a new idea. It looked like Ravenpaw's time had run out, and Firepaw needed Graypaw's help. But would his friend believe him? The wind was beginning to roar through the trees above them, and Firepaw had to raise his voice. “Ravenpaw's in great danger,” he meowed.

“What?”

“I have to get him away from ThunderClan. Right now, before anything happens to him.”

Graypaw looked puzzled. “Why? What about Yellowfang?”

“There's no time to explain,” Firepaw mewed urgently. “You'll just have to trust me. There must be a way we can get Ravenpaw away. Bluestar's going to keep the warriors in camp till the storm is over, but that doesn't leave us much time.” He tried to picture the hidden corners of the woods, beyond ThunderClan territory. “We'll have to take him somewhere Tigerclaw won't find him, somewhere he can survive without the Clan.”

Graypaw stared at him for a moment. “What about Barley?”

“Barley!” Firepaw echoed. “You mean, take Ravenpaw to the Twolegplace?” His ears twitched with excitement. “Yes, that might be the best idea.”

“Come on, then!” meowed Graypaw. “What are we waiting for?”

Relief washed over Firepaw. He should have known his old friend would help. He shook the rain from his head, then touched Graypaw's fur with his nose. “Thank you,” he purred. “Now, let's get Ravenpaw.”

They found their friend huddled miserably inside their den. Sandpaw and Dustpaw were in their nests, too, looking tense and scared as the storm crashed overhead.

“Ravenpaw,” Firepaw hissed through the entrance.

Ravenpaw looked up. Firepaw flicked his ears and the black cat followed him out into the storm.

“Come on,” Firepaw whispered. “We're taking you to Barley.”

“Barley?” Ravenpaw mewed in bewilderment, narrowing his eyes against the driving rain. “Why?”

“Because you'll be safe there,” Firepaw answered, looking the black cat straight in the eye.

“Did you see what Frostfur did?” mewed Ravenpaw, his voice quavering. “I was only going to check on the kits. . . . ”

“Come on,” Firepaw interrupted him. “We must hurry!”

Ravenpaw met his friend's gaze. “Thanks, Firepaw,” he murmured. Then he turned into the wind and bounded across the clearing.

The three apprentices rushed toward the camp entrance, their fur flattened by the howling wind. As they entered the gorse tunnel, a voice called them back.

“You three! Where are you going?”

It was Tigerclaw.

Firepaw whirled around, feeling his heart sink. He wondered desperately what he could say, when he spotted Bluestar striding toward them. She frowned for a moment; then her face cleared.

“Well done, Firepaw,” she meowed. “I see you've persuaded your two friends to go with you. ThunderClan has brave apprentices, Tigerclaw, if they are willing to run an errand in weather like this.”

“Surely this is not a time for errands?” objected Tigerclaw.

“One of Brindleface's kits has a cough.” Bluestar's voice was icily calm. “Firepaw has offered to fetch some coltsfoot for her.”