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“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.”
“Maybe.” Graystripe snorted. “But then why spend so much time with Leopardfur? I tried to get close enough to listen, and I heard Tigerstar say something about coming again to our camp.”
“Was that all he said?” Fireheart asked.
“That’s all I heard.” Graystripe ducked his head in embarrassment. “Leopardfur saw me and told me to stay out of her fur.”
“Perhaps Tigerstar’s just getting to know her,” Fireheart guessed. “She’ll be Clan leader, after all, when Crookedstar dies.”
He turned as he heard another cat calling his name, and saw Mistyfoot pulling herself up out of the river.
“Oh, great StarClan!” exclaimed Sandstorm. “Are we going to have all of RiverClan over here?”
“Fireheart!” Mistyfoot panted, shaking off her fur; Sandstorm jumped back crossly as some of the spinning drops spattered against her paws. “Fireheart, have you seen Graypool anywhere?”
“Graypool?” Fireheart echoed, picturing the short-tempered elder whom Mistyfoot believed to be her mother. Fireheart still felt gratitude to the RiverClan queen for telling him the truth about the two ThunderClan kits she had brought up as her own, but he hadn’t seen her for a long time. “What would Graypool be doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Mistyfoot padded up the slope from the river, her face creased with anxiety. “I can’t find her in the camp. She’s so weak and confused these days, I’m afraid she’s wandered off and doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“She won’t be here,” Graystripe objected. “She’s not strong enough to swim the river.”
“Then where has she gone?” Mistyfoot’s voice rose into a wail. “I’ve looked in all the places I can think
of near the camp, and she isn’t there. Besides, the river’s low just now, and it’s not too hard to swim across.”
Fireheart thought rapidly. If Graypool had somehow crossed the river into ThunderClan territory, she would need to be tracked down as soon as possible. His Clan mates were scared enough already of an invasion. He didn’t like to imagine what would happen if an aggressive cat like Darkstripe found her first.
“Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll follow the border up to Fourtrees to see if she’s gone that way. Sandstorm, you go back to camp. Tell the others what’s happened, and warn them not to attack Graypool if they see her.”
Sandstorm rolled her eyes. “All right,” she mewed as she got to her paws. “I’ll hunt on the way back, though. It’s time someone caught some fresh-kill for the Clan.” With her tail high she stalked off into the trees.
Mistyfoot dipped her head gratefully toward Fireheart. “Thank you,” she meowed. “I won’t forget this. And Fireheart—if you need to cross onto RiverClan territory to bring Graypool home, you can tell any cat who sees you that I gave you permission.”
Fireheart nodded his thanks. He could just imagine what would happen if he were caught on the wrong side of the border by a RiverClan patrol with Leopardfur at its head.
“Come on, Mistyfoot,” Graystripe meowed encouragingly. “I’ll swim back with you. We’ll check the camp again.”
“Thanks, Graystripe.” Mistyfoot pressed her nose briefly to the gray warrior’s fur, and both RiverClan cats bounded down the bank toward the river.
Graystripe glanced back swiftly to yowl good-bye, then launched himself into the water behind Mistyfoot. Fireheart watched them swimming strongly for the far bank before heading upstream toward Fourtrees.
He followed the border, renewing the scent markings as he went, until he was not far from Fourtrees. He found it hard to believe that the fragile elder could have made it this far. But then, looking down a rocky slope toward the river, he caught sight of a skinny gray shape limping slowly over the Twoleg bridge that crossed the river on the route that RiverClan cats took to Fourtrees.
