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“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.”
“Does he really need his friends to go too?” asked Tigerclaw.
“In this storm, I think he’s lucky to have the company!” answered Bluestar. She looked deep into Firepaw’s eyes, and he was suddenly aware of the trust she was placing in him. “Off you go, you three,” she meowed.
Firepaw returned her gaze gratefully. “Thank you,” he purred, dipping his head. With a swift glance at his companions, he led the way along the familiar paths toward Fourtrees. The wind roared through the branches above them and the trees swayed, their trunks creaking and cracking as though they might fall at any moment. The rain poured down through the leaves, soaking the cats to their hides.
They reached the stream, but the stepping-stones they usually leaped across had completely disappeared. The cats stopped on the bank and looked down in dismay at the wide, brown, swirling river.
“This way,” Firepaw meowed. “There’s a fallen tree up here. We can use it to cross.” He led Graypaw and Ravenpaw upstream to a log that rested only a kittenstep above the rushing water. “Be careful, it’ll be slippery!” Firepaw warned, leaping carefully up onto it. The log’s bark had been stripped away, leaving only smooth, wet wood to balance on. Carefully the three cats walked along the trunk. Firepaw jumped down on the other side and watched his friends until they, too, had landed safely.
The trees were bigger on the other side, offering some shelter from the storm as they hurried on, side by side.
“Are you going to tell me exactly why we need to get Ravenpaw away?” panted Graypaw.
“Because he knows that Tigerclaw killed Redtail,” Firepaw answered.
“Tigerclaw killed Redtail!” Graypaw echoed in disbelief, stopping dead and staring first at Firepaw and then at Ravenpaw.
“At the battle with RiverClan,” puffed Ravenpaw. “I saw him.”
“But why would he do that?” Graypaw protested, setting off again. They started down the slope that led into the clearing at Fourtrees.
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought Bluestar would make him deputy,” Firepaw suggested, raising his voice against the wind.
Graypaw didn’t reply, but his face darkened.
The cats began to climb the steep slope that led up to WindClan territory. As Firepaw leaped upward from rock to rock, he called down to Graypaw behind him. He wanted his friend to understand just how dangerous it was for Ravenpaw in the ThunderClan camp. “I overheard Tigerclaw talking to Darkstripe and Longtail on the night Lionheart was killed,” he yowled. “He wants to get rid of Ravenpaw.”
“Get rid of him? You mean kill him?” Graypaw sat heavily on a rock.
Firepaw stopped too. He looked down at his friends. Ravenpaw had halted farther down the slope, his sides heaving as he caught his breath. He looked smaller than ever with his sodden fur clinging to his scrawny body.
“You saw the way Frostfur went for Ravenpaw today?” Firepaw meowed to Graypaw. “Tigerclaw’s been hinting to everyone that Ravenpaw is a traitor. But he’ll be safe with Barley. Now come on; we must hurry!”
It was impossible to talk in the open expanse of WindClan territory. The wind howled around them while the thunder and lightning rolled and flashed overhead. The three cats lowered their heads and pushed onward into the heart of the storm.
Eventually they reached the edge of the plateau that marked the end of WindClan’s territory.
“We can’t take you any farther, Ravenpaw,” meowed Firepaw through the gale. “We have to get back and find Yellowfang before the storm has passed.”
Ravenpaw looked up through the battering rain, alarmed. Then he nodded.
“Will you be able to find Barley alone?” yowled Firepaw.
“Yes, I remember the way,” answered Ravenpaw.
“Watch out for those dogs,” warned Graypaw.
Ravenpaw nodded. “I will!” Suddenly he frowned, “How can you be sure Barley will welcome me?”
“Just tell him you caught an adder once!” answered Graypaw, affectionately nudging his friend’s rain-soaked shoulder.
“Go,” Firepaw urged, aware that time was short. He licked Ravenpaw’s skinny chest. “And don’t worry; I’ll make sure everyone knows you didn’t betray ThunderClan.”
“What if Tigerclaw comes looking for me?” Ravenpaw’s voice was small against the rumbling storm.
Firepaw met his gaze steadily. “He won’t. I shall tell him you are dead.”
CHAPTER 22
Firepaw and Graypaw retraced their steps to ThunderClan territory. Both cats were bone-weary and wet through, but Firepaw kept up the pace. The storm was beginning to move away. A ThunderClan patrol would be out soon and on Yellowfang’s trail. They had to find her first.
The sky was still dark, even though the black thunderclouds were beginning to roll away toward the horizon. Firepaw guessed that it must be nearly sunset.
“Why don’t we head straight into ShadowClan territory?” suggested Graypaw as they ran down the steep hillside into Fourtrees.
“We need to pick up Yellowfang’s scent first,” Firepaw explained. “I just hope it won’t lead to the ShadowClan camp.”
Graypaw glanced sideways at his friend, but didn’t reply.
They headed back over the stream, into ThunderClan territory. There was no scent of Yellowfang until they crossed into the oak woods close to the camp.
Now that the rain had finally stopped, the scents around them were beginning to return. Firepaw hoped that the rain had not washed away Yellowfang’s trail completely. He stopped and brushed at a fern with the tip of his nose, and recognized the familiar smell. Yellowfang’s fear-scent prickled in his nostrils. “She came this way!” he meowed.
He pushed his way through the wet undergrowth. Graypaw followed. The rain was easing, and the thunder was fading into the distance. Time was running out. Firepaw pushed on faster.
To his dismay, he realized Yellowfang’s scent was indeed leading them straight to ShadowClan territory. His heart sank. Did this mean Tigerclaw’s accusations were true? Firepaw began to hope that each new smell would take them in a different direction, but the trail was unfaltering.
They arrived at the Thunderpath and halted. Several monsters roared by, throwing up fountains of dirty water. The two cats hung back from the edge of the wide, gray track until there was a gap. Then they raced across the path and into ShadowClan territory.
The scent markers that lined the border made Firepaw’s paws tingle.
Graypaw halted and looked around nervously. “I always thought I’d have a few more warriors with me when I finally entered ShadowClan territory,” he confessed.
“Not afraid, are you?” Firepaw murmured.
“Aren’t you? My mother warned me about the stench of ShadowClan many times.”
“My mother never taught me such things,” Firepaw replied. But for the first time he was relieved that his fur was so wet that it clung to his body—Graypaw might not notice the way it was bristling fearfully along his spine.
The two cats prowled onward, alert to every sight and sound. Graypaw was on the lookout for ShadowClan patrols, and Firepaw for the ThunderClan party he knew must come soon.
Yellowfang’s scent-trail led them steadily into the heart of ShadowClan’s hunting grounds. The woods here were gloomy, the undergrowth crowded with nettles and brambles.
