A Dangerous Path (6 page)

“Longtail chose to stay in ThunderClan when Tigerclaw left,” Fireheart reminded her.

Bluestar snorted. “That doesn't mean we can trust him,” she repeated. “We can't trust any of them. They're traitors and they'll train more traitors. I won't make warriors of any of their apprentices!” She paused as Fireheart stared at her, appalled, then added, “Only yours, Fireheart. You alone are faithful to me. Cloudpaw can be a warrior, but not those others.”

Fireheart didn't know what to say. Even though the Clan seemed happy to have Cloudpaw back after his escapade with the Twolegs, Fireheart could foresee trouble if his apprentice was made a warrior and the other apprentices were not. Besides, it wouldn't do Cloudpaw any good to be singled out for an honor that the others deserved just as much as he did.

Fireheart fought with rising panic as he realized that meant
none
of the apprentices could be made into warriors yet. Even though the Clan needed them so desperately, he knew there was no reasoning with Bluestar in this mood.

“Er…thanks, Bluestar,” he meowed at last, starting to back away. “But maybe we'll wait awhile longer. A bit more training won't hurt.”

He made his escape, leaving Bluestar looking after him with the same vague expression in her eyes.

The sun was going down, casting
long shadows across the clearing, by the time Fireheart went to look for Cinderpelt. He found the medicine cat in her den, checking her supplies of healing herbs, and sat just outside the entrance to talk to her.

“Speckletail's kit?” she meowed when Fireheart had told her about Brackenfur's suspicions. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see what he means. I'll take a look.”

“You'll have to be careful of Speckletail,” Fireheart warned her. “When I suggested she might let you check Snowkit, she practically bit my nose off.”

“I'm not surprised,” remarked Cinderpelt. “No queen wants to believe her kits aren't perfect. I'll deal with it, Fireheart; don't worry. But not right away,” she added, patting her store of juniper berries into a neater pile. “It's too late to disturb them tonight, and tomorrow I have to go to Highstones.”

“So soon?” Fireheart was surprised; he hadn't realized how quickly the days were slipping by.

“Tomorrow night is the new moon. All the other medicine cats will be there too. StarClan will give me my full powers.”
Cinderpelt hesitated and then added, “Yellowfang should have come with me, to present me to StarClan as a fully trained medicine cat. Now I'll have to go through the ceremony without her.” Her eyes grew wide and remote as she spoke. Fireheart felt that she was moving far away from him, into a land of shadows and dreams where he could not follow her.

“You'll need to take a warrior with you,” he meowed. “Last time Bluestar tried to go to Highstones, WindClan wouldn't let her pass through their territory.”

Cinderpelt looked at him calmly. “I'd like to see the patrol that would dare to stop a medicine cat. StarClan would never forgive that.” Her expression changed and her eyes glinted mischievously. “You can come as far as Fourtrees if you like. Assuming you can spare the time from Sandstorm.”

Fireheart felt uncomfortable. “I don't know what you mean,” he muttered. But he remembered leaving to go and eat with Sandstorm while Cinderpelt was telling him about her dream, and he guessed that the medicine cat had felt unfairly dismissed. “Sandstorm can lead the dawn patrol without me,” he mewed out loud. “I'll come with you to Fourtrees.”

 

The next day dawned damp and misty. Tendrils of fog curled between the trees as Fireheart and Cinderpelt made their way to Fourtrees. The clinging white clouds dampened the sound of their pawsteps and beaded their fur with tiny droplets. In the silence Fireheart jumped at the sudden alarm call of a bird above his head. He felt half-afraid that they
might lose their way in this eerily unfamiliar-looking forest.

But by the time they crossed the stream and began to climb the slope to Fourtrees, the mist had begun to clear, and at the top of the hollow they emerged into bright sunlight. The four massive oaks stood straight ahead of them, their leaves turning red-gold with the approach of leaf-fall.

Cinderpelt let out a noisy breath and shook the moisture from her fur. “That feels good! I was starting to think I'd have to scent my way to Highstones, and I've only been there once before, with Yellowfang.”

Fireheart too enjoyed the feeling of warm sun on his fur. He stretched luxuriously and opened his jaws to taste the air, hoping to pick up the scent of prey.

Instead, the scent of other cats flooded over him.
ShadowClan!
he thought, his muscles tensing as his gaze flicked from side to side. A moment later he relaxed as he spotted Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, padding up to the hollow from ShadowClan territory with another cat beside him. This was no hostile warrior. StarClan raised medicine cats above the level of Clan rivalry.

“It looks as if you won't have to travel alone after all,” he meowed to Cinderpelt.

They waited until the ShadowClan cats came up to them. As they drew nearer, Fireheart recognized the other cat. It was Littlecloud, a small tabby tom who had almost died in his Clan's recent sickness. He and another warrior, Whitethroat, had tried to seek refuge with ThunderClan. Bluestar had refused to take them in, but Cinderpelt had secretly sheltered
them and cared for them until they were fit enough to travel back to their own territory.

Whitethroat had died soon after, when Tigerstar and his rogues had attacked a ThunderClan patrol. A monster had cut the young cat down on the Thunderpath as he was fleeing from the fight. Reliving the shock of that moment, Fireheart was glad to see that Littlecloud at least looked strong and healthy again.

“Hello, there!” Runningnose greeted the ThunderClan cats cheerfully. “Well met, Cinderpelt. It's a good day to travel.”

Littlecloud nodded respectfully to Fireheart and went to touch noses with Cinderpelt.

“It's good to see you on your paws again,” she meowed.

“All thanks to you,” Littlecloud replied. With a touch of pride he added, “I'm Runningnose's apprentice now.”

“Congratulations!” Cinderpelt purred.

“And that's because of you too,” Littlecloud went on enthusiastically. “When we were ill, you knew just what to do. And then you gave us healing herbs to take back to the Clan—and they worked! I want to do more stuff like that.”

“He has real talent,” Runningnose mewed. “And it took courage to come back to us with the herbs. I'm only sorry Whitethroat didn't come back with him.”

“He didn't?” Fireheart asked, seizing the chance to find out how much the ShadowClan cats knew about the young warrior's fate.

Sadly, Littlecloud shook his head. “He wouldn't come back with me to camp. He was scared of catching the sickness
again, even though we had the healing herbs with us.” He blinked as if the memory caused him pain. “We found his body beside the Thunderpath a few days later.”

“I'm sorry,” Fireheart meowed. He wondered whether to tell him the truth about how Whitethroat had died, but decided it would be too harmful to reveal that Littlecloud's new leader had been partly responsible for his friend's death. It was clear that Whitethroat must have joined the rogues for a short time, and paid with his life.

Cinderpelt pressed her muzzle comfortingly against Littlecloud's flank. Settling down on the warm grass, she beckoned with her tail for the apprentice to sit beside her and began to ask him about his training.

“Are things better now?” Fireheart carefully asked Runningnose. He would have liked to warn the medicine cat about Tigerstar, but there was so little he could say without revealing what had happened in ThunderClan.

“It seems so,” meowed Runningnose, sounding equally guarded. “The apprentices are getting a proper training for the first time in moons, and our bellies are always full.”

“That's good news,” Fireheart mewed, forcing himself to add, “What about the rogues?”

Runningnose frowned. “Not every cat was happy about their coming into our Clan,” he admitted. “I wasn't happy about them myself. But they haven't caused any trouble—and they're strong warriors; no cat can deny that.”

“Then maybe Tigerstar will be a great leader, just like the omen said,” Fireheart mewed.

The medicine cat met his gaze evenly. “It seems strange that ThunderClan got rid of a strong cat like that.”

Fireheart took a deep breath. Perhaps he should take this chance to tell Runningnose the truth about Tigerstar. “It's a long story,” he began.

“No, Fireheart,” Runningnose interrupted. “I'm not asking you to betray your Clan's secrets.” He edged closer to Fireheart, then scraped the ground with his paws and crouched down beside him. “Whatever happened in ThunderClan, I'm certain of one thing,” he mewed softly. “StarClan did send Tigerstar to us.”

“You mean the omen?”

“Actually, there's something else.” Runningnose glanced sideways at Fireheart. “Our last leader was never accepted by StarClan,” he admitted. “When Nightstar became leader, StarClan did not grant him nine lives.”

“What?” Fireheart stared at the medicine cat in disbelief. If Nightstar had had only one life, it explained why the sickness had claimed him so quickly. Fireheart found his voice again. “Why didn't he get nine lives?”

“StarClan have not explained that to me,” meowed Runningnose. “I wondered if it was because Brokentail was still alive, and StarClan still recognized him as Clan leader. By the time we learned that Brokentail had died, Nightstar was too weak to make the journey to the Moonstone to receive his nine lives. And since Tigerstar came, I think maybe he was StarClan's choice of leader for us all along. Nightstar was not the right cat.”

“Yet the Clan still accepted him as leader?” Fireheart asked.

“The Clan never knew that he had not been given his nine lives,” Runningnose confessed. “Nightstar was a noble cat, and loyal to his Clan. We decided to keep StarClan's rejection a secret. What else could we do? There was no other cat fit to be leader. If we had told the truth, the Clan would have panicked.”

There was a kind of relief in Runningnose's voice as he told the story. Fireheart guessed how relieved the medicine cat must have felt to be able to share the secret at last.

“The Clan cats thought the sickness was so bad it took all of Nightstar's lives at once,” Runningnose continued. “They were scared—very scared. They had never been in greater need of a strong leader.”

So they accepted Tigerstar without question.
Fireheart added what the medicine cat had not said. But there was no need for Runningnose to voice his doubts about his new leader. “Has Tigerstar said anything about attacking ThunderClan?” Fireheart asked hesitantly.

Runningnose let out a purr of amusement. “Do you really expect me to answer that? If he
was
planning anything, I'd be betraying my Clan if I told you. As far as I know, you haven't anything to worry about, but whether you believe me or not is up to you.”

Fireheart discovered that he believed him—at least, he believed that Runningnose knew nothing about any plans that Tigerstar might be making. Whether the medicine cat was right was another question altogether.

“Fireheart!” The voice was Cinderpelt's. She had risen to her paws and was gazing across the hollow to the swell of moorland beyond. This was the WindClan territory that the medicine cats would have to cross to reach Highstones for the ceremony. “Are you and Runningnose going to sit there gossiping all day like a couple of elders?”

Her paws worked impatiently in the grass. Littlecloud was standing beside her, his head raised and his eyes shining eagerly.

“All right,” Runningnose meowed, getting up and going to join them. “We've got all day, you know. Highstones isn't going anywhere.”

The four cats padded around the top of the hollow until they reached the edge of the windswept moor. Cinderpelt paused and touched noses with Fireheart. “I'll be fine from here,” she meowed. “Thanks for coming this far. I'll be back tomorrow night.”

“Take care,” Fireheart replied.

He had stood here once before and said good-bye to Cinderpelt when she first went to face the mysteries of the Moonstone. A shiver ran through his fur as he thought of her plunging down through the underground tunnels to the glittering crystal for her silent communion with StarClan. He said nothing more, only gave the gray she-cat's ear a swift lick in farewell, and stood watching as she limped across the moorland turf with the two ShadowClan cats.

The forest was dark. No moon
shone down that night, and when Fireheart looked up he could see nothing but a faint pattern of branches against the sky. The trees looked taller than he remembered, hemming him in. Brambles and ivy tangled around his paws.

“Spottedleaf!” he mewed. “Spottedleaf, where are you?”

There was no answer to his cries, only the rush of water from somewhere ahead of him. He was afraid of stepping forward and finding nothing but black emptiness under his paws as the raging torrent swept him down with it.

In some part of his mind Fireheart knew he was dreaming. He had lain down in the warriors' den in the hope that he would be able to meet with Spottedleaf in sleep. When Fireheart had first come to ThunderClan, Spottedleaf had been the medicine cat, but she had been killed by one of Brokentail's vicious followers. Now she visited Fireheart in his dreams, so that once again he could find in her gentle wisdom the answers to much that troubled him.

But now, though he searched more and more desperately in the black forest, he could not find her. “Spottedleaf!” he cried
again. This was not the first time in his recent dreams that she had been invisible to him. The last time, he had only heard her voice, and he fought with the terrible fear that she was drawing away from him. “Spottedleaf, don't leave me!” he begged.

A heavy weight landed on him from behind. Fireheart writhed on the forest floor, trying to free himself. Then the scent of another cat was in his nostrils, and he opened his eyes to find himself scuffling in his mossy bedding with Dustpelt cuffing him around the shoulders.

“What's the matter with you?” Dustpelt growled. “No cat can get a wink of sleep with you yowling like that.”

“Leave him alone.” Sandstorm put her head up from her nest, blinking sleep from her eyes. “It was only a dream. It's not his fault.”

“You would say that,” Dustpelt sneered. He turned his back on them and made his way out through the overhanging branches.

Fireheart sat up and began grooming scraps of moss out of his coat. Through the charred branches overhead, he could see that the sun was already up. Whitestorm must have left already with the dawn patrol; there were no other warriors sleeping in the den.

The darkness of his dream was fading, but he could not forget it. Why had the forest seemed so black and terrifying? Why had Spottedleaf not come to him, not even as a scent or the sound of her voice?

“Are you all right?” asked Sandstorm, anxiety showing in her green eyes.

Fireheart shook himself. “I'm fine,” he meowed. “Let's go and hunt.”

The day was bright, though the chill of leaf-fall was in the air. Fireheart was relieved to see that grass and ferns were growing back thickly as the forest recovered. If only the fine weather would last! Then the growth could continue and prey would return.

He led the way up the ravine and through the forest toward Tallpines. Since the fire, most cats had avoided the stretch of territory closest to Treecutplace, where the devastation was worst. The fire had started there, and whole stretches of the forest had been reduced to nothing but gray ash, dotted with tree stumps. Fireheart wondered if there was a chance of prey there yet, but as he and Sandstorm approached the edge of Tallpines he guessed that he was going to be disappointed.

The pines, charred to tapering trunks, were still a jumble, with fallen trees caught up against others that still stood. The few remaining branches stirred uneasily in the breeze. The ground was black, and no birds sang.

“It's useless here,” Sandstorm meowed. “Let's go and—”

She broke off as another cat appeared through the trees, a small tabby-and-white shape stepping nervously over the debris of the fire. With a gasp of surprise Fireheart recognized his sister, Princess.

She spotted him at the same moment and bounded toward him, calling, “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

“Who's
that?”
Sandstorm spat. “She'll scare off all the prey between here and Fourtrees.”

Before Fireheart could reply, his sister came up to him. She was purring as if she would never stop, pressing her face against his and covering him with licks. “Fireheart, you're alive!” she mewed. “I was so frightened when I saw the fire! I thought you and Cloudpaw were dead.”

“Yes, well, I'm okay,” Fireheart meowed awkwardly, giving Princess a quick lick in return and taking a step back, acutely conscious of Sandstorm's eyes on him. “And Cloudpaw's fine too.”

Glancing at Sandstorm, he saw that a look of disgust had appeared on the ginger warrior's face and her fur was fluffed out. “That's a
kittypet
,” she snarled. “She's got kittypet scent all over her.”

Princess gave her a scared look and edged closer to Fireheart. “Is…is this one of your friends, Fireheart?” she stammered.

“Yes, this is Sandstorm. Sandstorm, this is my sister, Princess, Cloudpaw's mother.”

Sandstorm took a step or two away from them, though she let the fur lie flat on her neck again. “Cloudpaw's mother?” she repeated. “She still sees you both, then?” She shot a glance at Fireheart, clearly wondering how much he had told Princess about Cloudpaw's escapade with the Twolegs.

“Cloudpaw is doing really well,” Fireheart meowed. “Isn't he?” He met Sandstorm's gaze, silently willing her not to say anything tactless about the wayward apprentice.

“He hunts well,” Sandstorm admitted. “And he's got the makings of a fine fighter.”

Princess didn't realize how much Sandstorm was leaving unsaid. Her eyes glowed with pride and she meowed, “I know he'll be a good warrior with Fireheart to mentor him.”

“But you haven't told me what you're doing out here,” Fireheart mewed, eager to change the subject. “You're a long way from your Twoleg nest.”

“I was looking for you. I had to know what had happened to you and Cloudpaw,” explained Princess. “I saw the fire from my garden, and then you didn't come to see me, and I thought—”

“I'm sorry,” Fireheart meowed. “I would have come, but we've been so busy since the fire. We have to rebuild the camp, and there's not much prey left in the forest. And I have more duties since I was made deputy.”

“You're deputy now? Of the whole Clan? Fireheart, that's marvelous!”

Fireheart felt hot with embarrassment as Princess gazed at him.

Sandstorm gave a dry little cough. “There's prey to be caught, Fireheart….”

“Yes, you're right,” Fireheart mewed. “Princess, you're very brave to have come so far, but you'd better get home now. The forest can be dangerous if you're not used to it.”

“Yes, I know, but I—”

The roar of a Twoleg monster interrupted her, and at the same moment Fireheart's nostrils were blasted with its harsh reek. The roaring grew louder, and a moment later the monster burst out of the trees, bouncing along the rutted track.

Instinctively, Fireheart and Sandstorm crouched beneath a blackened tree trunk, waiting for the monster to pass. Princess merely sat watching it curiously.

“Get
down
!” Sandstorm hissed at her.

Princess looked puzzled, but she pressed herself obediently to the ground next to Fireheart.

Instead of passing, the monster stopped. The roaring was abruptly cut off. Part of the monster unfolded, and three Twolegs jumped out of its belly.

Fireheart exchanged a glance with Sandstorm and flattened himself even further. Princess might feel at home with the Twolegs and their monster, but they were too close for his liking, and the undergrowth was still not thick enough to provide decent cover. All Fireheart's instincts were to run, but curiosity kept him pinned to the ground.

The Twolegs wore matching dark blue pelts. They had no Twoleg kits with them, or dogs, unlike most of the Twolegs who came to the forest. They spread out among the burned trees, yowling and stamping so that their paws threw up puffs of dust and ash. Sandstorm lowered her head and stifled a sneeze as one of them passed within a fox-length of where the three cats were crouching.

“What are they doing?” Fireheart murmured.

“Frightening off all the prey,” hissed Sandstorm, spitting out dust. “Honestly, Fireheart, who cares what Twolegs do? They're all mad.”

“I don't know….” Fireheart couldn't help feeling that these Twolegs had a purpose, even if he didn't understand
what it was. The way they pointed with their paws and yowled at each other seemed to suggest they were moving deliberately through the forest.

Another Twolegs stamped past. He had picked up a branch and was using it to poke into hollows and under clumps of charred undergrowth. It almost looked as if he were hunting for prey, except for the noise he was making, which would have scared away the deafest rabbit.

“Do you know what it's all about?” Fireheart asked Princess.

“I'm not sure,” his sister replied. “I understand a bit of their Twoleg talk, but it's not words that my housefolk use. I think they're calling for somebody, but I don't know who.”

As Fireheart watched, the Twolegs threw the branch down. There was frustration in the movement. He yowled again, and the other Twolegs appeared from the trees. All three of them went back to the monster and climbed into its belly. The roar started up again, and the monster jerked into motion and vanished into the trees.

“Well!” Sandstorm sat up and began licking fastidiously at her ash-stained fur. “Thank StarClan they've gone!”

Fireheart got to his paws, keeping his gaze fixed on the place in the trees where the monster had disappeared. The sound had died away and the acrid smell was fading. “I don't like it,” he meowed.

“Oh, come on, Fireheart!” Sandstorm padded to his side and gave him a nudge. “Why are you bothering about Twolegs? They're weird, and that's all there is to it.”

“No, I think
they
know what they're doing, even if it looks weird to us,” Fireheart replied. “They usually bring their kits or their dogs to the forest—but these Twolegs didn't. If Princess is right and they were looking for something, they didn't find it. I'd like to know what it was.” He paused and then added, “Besides, we don't normally see Twolegs in this part of the forest. They're too close to the camp for my liking.”

Sandstorm's impatient look softened, and she pressed her muzzle reassuringly against his shoulder. “You can tell the patrols to keep a lookout,” she reminded him.

“Yes.” Fireheart nodded thoughtfully. “I'll do that.”

As he said good-bye to Princess, he struggled to push his growing anxiety out of his mind. Something was going on in the forest that he didn't understand, and he could not help fearing that it meant danger for his Clan.

 

Cutting across the corner of Tallpines, Fireheart and Sandstorm made for the river and Sunningrocks. There was no sign of prey anywhere among the scorched trees; the noise made by the Twolegs had seen to that.

“We'll follow the RiverClan border up toward Fourtrees,” Fireheart decided. “There might be something there worth catching.”

But as they came within sight of Sunningrocks, Fireheart stopped at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. He looked up to see Graystripe poised on top of the nearest rock; the gray warrior scrambled down and bounded over to him.

“Fireheart! I was hoping to catch you.”

“A good thing a patrol didn't catch
you
,” Sandstorm growled. “You're very comfortable in our territory, for a RiverClan warrior.”

“Come off it, Sandstorm,” Graystripe meowed, giving her a good-natured push. “This is me, Graystripe, remember?”

“Only too well,” retorted Sandstorm. She sat down, licked a paw, and started washing her face.

“What's the problem, Graystripe?” Fireheart asked, worried that his old friend wouldn't have ventured into ThunderClan territory without good reason.

“It's not exactly a problem,” replied the gray warrior. “At least, I hope it isn't. Just something I thought you ought to know.”

“Spit it out, then,” meowed Sandstorm.

Graystripe flicked his tail at her. “Crookedstar had a visitor yesterday,” he told Fireheart. He narrowed his amber eyes. “It was Tigerstar.”

“What? What did he want?” Fireheart stammered.

Graystripe shook his head. “I don't know. But Crookedstar is very weak now. The whole Clan knows he's on his last life. Tigerstar spent only a short time with him, but he had a long talk with Leopardfur.”

The mention of the RiverClan deputy increased Fireheart's fears. What did she and Tigerstar have to say to each other? Visions of an alliance between ShadowClan and RiverClan raced through his mind, with ThunderClan trapped between the two of them. Then he tried to tell himself he was worrying unnecessarily. He had no reason to think
that the two cats were planning anything.

“It's not unknown for leaders to visit each other,” he pointed out. “If Crookedstar is dying, Tigerstar might want to pay his last respects.”