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“Thanks for sending Ravenpaw to me,” replied Barley. “He’s turning into a fine ratter. And it’s good to share a meal with a fellow cat from time to time.”
“Is he happy here?” asked Fireheart.
“Ask him yourself,” meowed Barley, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.
Fireheart padded over to Tallstar, who was washing his paws. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing how swollen and painful they looked. “We’ll take it in turns to keep watch tonight, if you like,” he offered, flicking his head toward Graystripe and Ravenpaw.
Tallstar looked up at him gratefully, exhaustion clouding his eyes. “Thank you,” he meowed. Fireheart blinked respectfully at the WindClan leader and went to tell Ravenpaw and Graystripe.
His offer to Tallstar had been genuine, but it also meant he could be alone with his two friends. He was desperate to get Ravenpaw out of earshot of the WindClan cats and ask him what he had been up to. Graystripe and Ravenpaw bounded over to his side as soon as he called them.
Fireheart led them to a corner of the Twoleg nest, close enough to the entrance for them to keep watch, but far enough away from the other cats that they could talk in private. “So what happened after we left you?” he asked Ravenpaw as soon as the three friends had settled down.
“I headed straight across the WindClan territory, like you suggested.”
“What about the Twolegs’ dogs?” Graystripe put in. “Were they loose?”
“Yes, but it was easy to avoid them,” Ravenpaw told him.
Fireheart was surprised by how casually his friend dismissed the dogs. “Easy?” he echoed.
“I could smell them from a long way off. I just waited until dawn, and once the dogs were tied up again, I tracked down Barley. He’s been great. I think he likes having me around.” Ravenpaw’s expression suddenly clouded. “Which is more than Tigerclaw ever did,” he meowed bitterly. “What did you tell him?”
Fireheart recognized the hunted look in Ravenpaw’s eyes as he spoke about his old mentor. “We said you’d been killed by a ShadowClan patrol,” he answered quietly. Two WindClan apprentices were wandering toward them. Fireheart twitched his ears to warn his friends they had an audience.
“Oh, yes,” meowed Ravenpaw, raising his voice. “We loners eat Clan apprentices whenever we can catch one.”
The WindClan apprentices shot him a scornful look. “You don’t scare us,” they mewed.
“Really?” purred Ravenpaw. “Well, I guess your meat would be tough and stringy, anyway.”
“How come you’re such good friends with a loner?” one apprentice asked Fireheart.
“A wise warrior makes friends wherever he can,” Fireheart replied. “If it weren’t for this loner, we’d still be cold and hungry instead of dry and well fed!” He narrowed his eyes in warning and the apprentices slunk away.
“So ThunderClan thinks I’m dead,” meowed Ravenpaw when they had gone. He gazed down at his paws. “Well, it’s probably for the best.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Fireheart and Graystripe. “I’m glad I’ve seen you again,” he meowed warmly. Fireheart purred, and Graystripe prodded his friend affectionately with a hind paw. “But you look tired,” Ravenpaw continued. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight. I can rest tomorrow.” He stood up and gently licked each of his old friends on the head. Then he padded to the entrance of the shelter, sat down, and stared out into the rain.
Fireheart looked at Graystripe. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” admitted Graystripe. The gray warrior rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Fireheart took a final look at Ravenpaw sitting alone in the entrance. He knew now that he had made the right decision in helping Ravenpaw to leave ThunderClan. Perhaps Bluestar had been right when she’d said Ravenpaw would be better off without the Clan. Each cat has his own destiny, he thought. Ravenpaw was happy, and that was all that mattered.
When Fireheart woke, Ravenpaw was gone. It was past dawn. The gray rain clouds had begun to drift away. Tinged by the rosy glow of the rising sun, they looked like blossoms floating across a pond. Fireheart stared through a gap in the roof and watched them as the WindClan cats stirred and helped themselves to the leftovers of last night’s catch.
A short-tailed brown tom joined Fireheart and gazed up at the clouds with him. Fireheart jumped as a curious yowl suddenly escaped the brown tom’s throat. The noise brought the other WindClan cats crowding around them, murmuring and anxious.
“What is it, Barkface?” prompted Morningflower. “Has StarClan spoken to you?” Fireheart realized that this tom must be WindClan’s medicine cat. He tensed instinctively at the sight of Barkface’s bristling fur.
“The clouds are stained with blood!” rasped Barkface, his eyes wide and glazed. “It is a sign from our ancestors. There is trouble ahead. This day shall bring an unnecessary death.”
CHAPTER 7
For a moment, none of the cats moved or spoke. Then Deadfoot growled, “Any of the Clans could see those clouds. We can’t be sure that the message is for us.”
Hopeful mews spread through WindClan. Tallstar surveyed his Clan, then meowed calmly, “Whatever StarClan has planned for us, today we return to our home. I can smell more rain in the air. It’s time we set off.” Fireheart felt relieved at the leader’s practical tone. The last thing they needed was hysteria at an ominous prophecy.
Tallstar led the way out into the chilly morning air. Fireheart and Graystripe followed. The WindClan leader was right: the wind carried the promise of more rain, and soon.
“Shall we scout ahead?” Fireheart offered.
“Yes, please,” replied Tallstar. “Let me know if you see dogs, Twolegs, or rats. My Clan is stronger this morning, but we had trouble with dogs on the way out. We must stay alert.” Fireheart could see from the worried look in the leader’s eyes that Barkface’s warning had disturbed him more than his confident words suggested. His Clan might be stronger, but it was in no state to fight off attackers.
Fireheart raced away with Graystripe at his heels. They took turns going back to the Clan, telling Tallstar that the way ahead was clear, or warning him to stay back while a Twoleg passed by with a dog. The WindClan cats wordlessly obeyed their leader, plodding on heavy paws in spite of their night’s rest.
By sunhigh dark clouds had gathered once more, and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. The ground began to slope upward, and when Fireheart pushed his way through a hedge, he recognized the red dirt track that led away from Twoleg territory and into WindClan’s hunting grounds. His spirits soared, and he met Graystripe’s gaze with a look of triumph. Nearly there!
The muffled tramp of pawsteps sounded behind the hedge. Fireheart spun around and darted back into the field. The WindClan cats had caught up with them. Deadfoot was at the head of the group. He looked startled by Fireheart’s sudden appearance.
“This way,” Fireheart meowed, showing him the gap through the dripping leaves. He was eager to see WindClan’s reaction when they glimpsed the uplands on the other side. With Deadfoot leading, the cats began to file slowly through.
Fireheart followed close behind the last cat, but Deadfoot and two warriors had already leaped the ditch and crossed the track, and were pushing into the hedgerow on the other side. Their pace had quickened—they clearly knew where they were. Fireheart had to sprint to catch up. He followed them through the hedge and kept up with them as they bounded toward the long slope that led to the uplands, and their home.
At the foot of the slope, Deadfoot and his warriors paused to wait for the rest of the Clan. They closed their eyes against the rain but held their heads high. Fireheart could see their chests rising and falling as they breathed in the familiar scents sweeping from the uplands.
Fireheart ran back to the rest of the Clan, looking for Morningflower. He spotted her walking beside a tabby warrior who held her kit in his mouth. Every few steps the tortoiseshell queen stretched her head to sniff the wet li
ttle bundle. It would not be long now before she could settle her kit into the WindClan nursery.
Fireheart fell into step beside Graystripe at the rear. They glanced happily at each other but didn’t speak, too caught up in WindClan’s excitement at coming home. Even the elders were moving swiftly now, keeping their bodies low and their eyes narrowed against the rain. As the Clan joined Deadfoot at the foot of the slope, the deputy got to his paws and Tallstar took the lead. Without pausing, Tallstar began to follow a narrow sheep trail through the rough grass and heather.
As the Clan neared the top, some of the warriors raced ahead again. At the brow of the hill, they made proud silhouettes against the stormy sky, while the wind sent ripples through their fur. Ahead stretched their old hunting grounds. Suddenly two apprentices charged past Fireheart and bounded away into the familiar heather.
