A Dangerous Path (9 page)

Fireheart shook his head to clear it. There was no point in trying to blame RiverClan. He knew what scents he had picked up. A dog was responsible for the scattered prey, and he had to make Bluestar see that. “Bluestar, I really think—” he began.

Bluestar dismissed his words with a sweep of her tail. “No!” she insisted. “It was you, Fireheart, who came to me after the last Gathering and told me how Tallstar welcomed Tigerstar as leader of ShadowClan.”

“Hardly welcomed!” Fireheart tried to protest, but Bluestar ignored him.

“Have you forgotten how WindClan warriors stopped me from traveling to Highstones? And how they attacked you when you brought Cloudpaw home? They show no gratitude, none, for what ThunderClan did for them, when you and Graystripe brought them home from exile! Tallstar is working with StarClan against me! He has allied himself with my greatest enemy, and now he and his warriors invade my
territory. He's a disgrace to the name of warrior; he…” Her eyes were wild and her voice sank to a rough choking, as if she could hardly get the words out.

Thoroughly alarmed, Fireheart started to back out of the den. “Bluestar, don't,” he begged. “You've been ill; this is bad for you. I'm going to fetch Cinderpelt.”

But before he could leave, a loud yowling broke out from the clearing. It was the sound of many cats raising their voices in a terrible screech of fear. Fireheart spun around and raced out of Bluestar's den.

The center of the clearing was almost deserted, bathed in bright light where the normally leafy cover had been burned away. Cats crouched around the edges in the scant shelter of the charred fern walls. Fireheart caught a glimpse of Goldenflower and Willowpelt pushing their kits into the nursery. Brackenfur was nudging a couple of the elders toward their den, urging them to hurry.

The cats at the edge of the clearing were staring up at the sky, their eyes huge with fear. As he looked upward, Fireheart heard the beating of wings and saw a hawk circling above the trees, its harsh cry drifting on the air. At the same time he realized that one cat had not taken shelter; Snowkit was still tumbling and playing in the middle of the open space.

“Snowkit!” Speckletail yowled desperately.

She was just emerging from behind the nursery, the place where the queens went to make dirt, and she darted toward her kit as soon as she realized what was happening. In the same heartbeat the hawk plunged down toward the clearing.
Snowkit screamed as the cruel talons fastened onto his back. The great wings flapped. Fireheart raced forward, but Speckletail was faster still. As the hawk lifted off, she sprang upward and snagged her claws in the white kit's fur.

For a couple of agonizing moments both cats dangled from the hawk's claws. Fireheart launched himself into the air, but they were too high. Then the hawk released the kit with one foot and scored its talons across Speckletail's face. The she-cat lost her grip and fell back, landing heavily on the ground. Without her weight, the hawk mounted rapidly to treetop height and flew off toward Fourtrees. Snowkit's terrified crying died away.

“No!” Speckletail threw her head back and let out a yowl of pure desperation. “My kit! Oh, my kit!”

Brackenfur dashed past Fireheart, leaping the camp wall at a place where the rebuilding had barely started, and vanished into the forest. Even though Fireheart knew the pursuit was hopeless, he swung around and caught the eye of the nearest cat. “Swiftpaw, go with him.”

Swiftpaw opened his mouth to protest, clearly aware that the pursuit would be hopeless, then closed it again and took off after Brackenfur. The rest of the cats, stunned by shock, gradually crept out into the clearing again and formed a ragged circle around Speckletail.

“He couldn't hear,” Sandstorm murmured, touching her nose to Fireheart's cheek. “He couldn't hear the hawk, and he couldn't hear us when we tried to warn him.”

“It's my fault!” Speckletail wailed. “I left him…and now
he's gone. The hawk should have taken me instead!”

Sandstorm moved closer to the tabby queen, pressing herself comfortingly against her side, and Cinderpelt came up and gave her ears a gentle lick. “Come to my den,” she mewed softly. “We'll look after you. We won't leave you.”

But Speckletail refused to be comforted. “He's gone and it's my fault,” she whimpered.

“It's not your fault,” meowed Bluestar.

Fireheart turned to see his leader pacing toward them. The broad-shouldered gray she-cat looked strong and determined, more like a warrior than any of the other cats, crushed as they were by the tragedy of Snowkit's loss.

“It's not your fault,” she repeated. “Whoever heard of a hawk that dared to swoop down and take a kit from the middle of a camp, with so many other cats around? This is a sign from StarClan. I cannot deny the truth any longer.” Bluestar gazed at her shocked, assembled Clan, and her voice vibrated with anger. “StarClan is at war with ThunderClan!”

As her Clan stared at her
in horror, Bluestar spun around and stalked away to her den. Fireheart took a pace after her, but without turning her head she snapped, “Leave me alone!” There was so much venom in her voice that Fireheart stopped in his tracks.

What am I supposed to do now
? he asked himself. He could see that the Clan was on the edge of panic. The shock of the hawk's attack, and Bluestar's interpretation of it, was turning them into frightened kits. His own legs were shaking, but he pushed his fears away and sprang onto the Highrock.

“Listen!” he called. “Gather 'round, all of you.”

Gradually the cats obeyed him, creeping into a huddle at the base of the rock. Several of them glanced fearfully up at the sky, as if they expected the hawk to return. Fireheart noticed Fernpaw pressing close to Dustpelt, and Longtail crouched on the ground as if he thought StarClan were going to start raining fire on them there and then.

And then Fireheart spotted Cloudpaw. The apprentice was gazing around in bewilderment. “What's all the fuss about?” he meowed to Brightpaw. “Every cat knows StarClan
is just a tale for kits. They can't really do anything to us.”

Brightpaw faced him with shock in her eyes. “Cloudpaw, that's not true!” she exclaimed.

“Come on!” Cloudpaw gave her an affectionate flick with his tail. “You don't really believe that load of thistledown, do you?” He showed his indifference by sitting down and giving his paws a thorough wash.

Fireheart stared down at his apprentice with cold dread chilling the blood in his veins. He had known for a long time that Cloudpaw had no respect for the warrior code, but he had not realized that his apprentice did not believe in StarClan at all.

On the other side of the clearing, Cinderpelt and Brindleface were gently guiding Speckletail in the direction of Cinderpelt's den. Cinderpelt stopped, mewed something rapidly to Brindleface, and came limping back toward the rock.

“I think you might need me, Fireheart,” she mewed. “But make it quick. I have to take care of Speckletail.”

Fireheart nodded. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began, raising his voice, “we've just seen something terrible. No cat can deny that. But we have to be careful about what meaning we give to this tragedy. Cinderpelt, is Bluestar right? Does this mean that StarClan have abandoned us?”

Cinderpelt spoke up clearly from where she sat at the base of the rock. “No,” she meowed. “StarClan haven't shown me anything to suggest this. The camp is more exposed since the fire, so it's not surprising that the hawk could see its prey.”

“So it was just an accident that we lost Snowkit?” Fireheart prompted.

“Just an accident,” Cinderpelt repeated. “Nothing to do with StarClan.”

Fireheart saw the Clan begin to relax and realized that Cinderpelt's certainty had reassured them. The cats still looked shocked and grief-stricken that Snowkit had been snatched away, but the wild stares of panic were fading.

But along with his relief came the worry that once the Clan had recovered from their shock, they would start asking themselves why Bluestar had gone so far as to declare war on their warrior ancestors in StarClan. “Thank you, Cinderpelt,” Fireheart meowed.

Cinderpelt flicked her tail and limped quickly toward her den.

Fireheart took a step forward on top of the rock and gazed down at the upturned faces. “There's something else I need to tell you,” he began. He wasn't at all sure he should be saying this, since Bluestar insisted that WindClan was responsible for the dead rabbits, but with the safety of the Clan at stake he couldn't keep silent. “We think there's a loose dog on ThunderClan territory. We haven't seen it, but we've scented it at Snakerocks and near Fourtrees.”

An anxious murmur rose from the cats, and Sandstorm called out, “What about the dogs at the farm beyond WindClan territory? Maybe it's one of those.”

“Maybe,” Fireheart agreed, remembering how the savage creatures had chased him and Sandstorm while they were
searching for Cloudpaw. “Until it goes away again,” he went on, “we all have to be especially careful. Apprentices mustn't go out without a warrior. And all cats who leave camp have an extra duty. Look for traces of this dog—scent, pawmarks, scattered scraps of prey….”

“And dung,” Mousefur put in. “The filthy creatures never think of burying it.”

“Right,” meowed Fireheart. “If you come across anything like that, report it to me right away. We need to find out where the dog has made its den.”

As he gave his orders he did his best to hide his growing sense of dread. He could not stifle the feeling that the forest was watching him, concealing a deadly enemy somewhere among the trees. At least the threat from Tigerstar was a straightforward fear of attack from a known enemy. This hidden dog was another matter, unseen and unpredictable.

Dismissing the Clan, Fireheart leaped down from the Highrock and made his way toward Cinderpelt's den. On the way, he spotted Brackenfur limping back into the camp with Swiftpaw just behind him. The ginger warrior's fur was torn where he had forced his way through briers and undergrowth in his pursuit of the hawk. One look at his lowered head and dejected expression told Fireheart all he needed to know, but he waited for Brackenfur to come up and make his report.

“I'm sorry, Fireheart. We tried to keep up, but we lost it.”

“You did your best,” Fireheart replied, pressing his head against the younger warrior's shoulder. “There was never much hope.”

“A waste of time and effort right from the start,” Swiftpaw growled, though his eyes betrayed his frustration at their failure to save the kit.

“Where's Speckletail?” asked Brackenfur.

“With Cinderpelt. I'm just going to check on her. You two help yourself to fresh-kill and then get some rest.”

He waited to see that the two cats obeyed his order before continuing to Cinderpelt's den. Sandstorm fell into step beside him. When they reached the clearing outside the medicine cat's den, they found Speckletail lying there with Brindleface crouched beside her, licking her gently.

Cinderpelt emerged from the cleft in the rock carrying a folded leaf in her mouth, which she set down on the ground in front of Speckletail. “Poppy seeds,” she mewed. “Eat them, Speckletail, and they'll make you sleep.”

At first Fireheart thought Speckletail had not heard her; then she half sat up, turned her head, and slowly licked up the poppy seeds from the leaf.

“I'll never have any more kits,” she mewed, her voice hoarse. “I'll be going to join the elders now.”

“And they'll welcome you,” Sandstorm murmured, crouching beside the older cat as the poppy seeds took effect and her head gradually lowered into sleep. Fireheart glanced admiringly at Sandstorm; she was a skilled warrior, and he had reason to know the sharpness of her tongue, but she had a gentle side too.

He was roused from his thoughts when he heard Cinderpelt clearing her throat, and he saw that the medicine
cat had padded over to sit beside him. From the look she was giving him he realized that she must have spoken to him and was waiting for a response.

“Sorry—what?” he mewed.

“If
you're not too busy to listen,” Cinderpelt meowed dryly, “I said that I'll keep Speckletail with me overnight.”

“Good idea, thanks.” Fireheart remembered that Cinderpelt had been with Speckletail when he had been telling the Clan about the loose dog. “There's something else you need to know, and I'd like you to have another look at Bluestar.”

“Oh? What's the matter with her?”

Speaking softly so that Sandstorm did not hear him, Fireheart told Cinderpelt about the evidence that a dog was loose in the forest, and how Bluestar was convinced that it must be WindClan invading ThunderClan territory to steal prey. “She's so confused,” he finished. “She must be, to declare war on StarClan like that. And there's a Gathering in a few nights. What's going to happen if she starts accusing WindClan in front of the other cats?”

“Now wait a minute,” Cinderpelt meowed. “This is your Clan leader you're talking about. You should respect her opinions even if you don't agree with them.”

“This isn't just a disagreement!” Fireheart protested. “There isn't a scrap of proof for what she suggests.” His raised voice made Sandstorm prick up her ears as she lay beside Speckletail, and he lowered it again as he added, “Bluestar was a great leader. Every cat knows that. But now…I can't
trust her judgment, Cinderpelt. Not when she isn't making any sense.”

“You should still try to understand her. Show her a bit of sympathy, at least. She deserves that from every cat.”

For a few heartbeats Fireheart felt outrage that Cinderpelt, who had once been his apprentice, should be talking to him like this. It wasn't Cinderpelt who had to defend Bluestar's decisions and try to hide her confusion so that her own Clan still trusted her. Not to mention making excuses for her to all the other Clans so that no cat would guess the weakness at ThunderClan's heart.

“Do you think I haven't tried?” he snapped. “If I'm any more sympathetic, my fur will fall out!”

“Your fur looks fine to me,” Cinderpelt remarked.

“Look…” Fireheart made one last effort to suppress his annoyance. “Bluestar missed the last Gathering. If she doesn't go to the next one, every cat in the forest will know something's wrong. Can't you give her something to make her a bit more reasonable?”

“I'll try. But there's a limit to what my herbs can do. She's gotten over the effects of the fire, you know. This trouble started long before that, when she first found out about Tigerstar. She's old and tired, and she thinks she's losing everything she believed in, even StarClan.”

“Especially StarClan,” Fireheart agreed. “And if she—”

He broke off, realizing that Sandstorm had left Speckletail and was walking toward him. “Finished talking secrets?” she mewed with an edge to her voice. Flicking her tail toward
Speckletail, she added, “She's asleep. I'll leave her to you, Cinderpelt.”

“Thanks for your help, Sandstorm.”

Both she-cats were being very polite to each other, but somehow Fireheart felt it wouldn't take much for them to unsheathe their claws. He wondered why, then decided he didn't have time to worry about petty squabbles.

“We'll go and eat, then,” he meowed.

“And afterward you need to rest,” Sandstorm told him. “You've been on your paws since dawn.”

She gave him a nudge, propelling him toward the main clearing. Before he had taken more than a couple of paces, Cinderpelt called after him, “Send some fresh-kill for me and Speckletail. If you've got time, that is.”

“Of course I've got time.” Fireheart felt completely baffled by the tension that had chilled the air. “I'll see to it right away.”

“Good.” Cinderpelt gave him a curt nod, and Fireheart felt her blue gaze trained on his back all the way across the clearing.