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Darkstripe twitched his ears scornfully, but he said no more. Fireheart glanced around, wondering whether he was winning the support of his warriors. When Bluestar gave up her last life and went to join StarClan, he realized uncomfortably, he might have to lead this Clan, and if he could not command their loyalty and respect, the task would be impossible.
“This is what’s important,” he went on desperately. “WindClan haven’t done anything wrong. And we have enough to do, rebuilding the camp and keeping up the patrols, without fighting an unnecessary, dangerous battle. How will we keep ourselves fed and prepare for leaf-bare if we have warriors injured or even killed?”
“He’s right.” Brindleface spoke up, and the others turned to look at her. “Our children would be in the battle,” she went on quietly. “We don’t want them hurt for nothing.”
Frostfur added her agreement, but the rest of the warriors were still murmuring among themselves. Again he was aware of Sandstorm, and the distress in her pale green eyes. He could understand how torn she must feel now, between her loyalty to Bluestar and her commitment to him. Right now Fireheart wanted nothing more than to press himself against her flank and forget all this in the sweet scent of her fur, but he had to go on standing in front of his warriors, waiting for their verdict on whether they would support him or not.
“So what do you want us to do?” Longtail meowed at last.
“I’ll need a party of warriors ready to go with Bluestar to Fourtrees,” Fireheart replied. “If Ravenpaw doesn’t come, or if Bluestar doesn’t agree to talk, then she’ll lead us into battle. And if that happens…” His voice failed; he swallowed.
“Yes, what then?” Sandstorm demanded. “Do you want us to disobey Bluestar’s direct orders? Turn around and run away? Dustpelt, tell Fireheart what a mouse-brained idea that is!”
Dustpelt’s ears pricked in surprise. Fireheart knew very well that part of the brown warrior’s antagonism toward him was because Sandstorm so clearly preferred Fireheart now. He braced himself for more criticism, but Dustpelt meowed hesitantly, “I don’t know, Sandstorm. Fireheart’s right that it’s a bad time for a battle, and besides, no cat can seriously believe that WindClan is stealing our prey. If Bluestar thinks so, then…well…” He broke off, scuffling his paws in confusion.
“It’s understandable that Bluestar can’t trust WindClan,” Fireheart mewed, instinctively defending his leader. “Not since they stopped her going to Highstones. And we’ve never known dogs loose in the forest before. But there is no evidence at all that WindClan took those rabbits, and plenty of evidence that a dog did.”
“So what do you suggest if it comes to battle, Fireheart?” asked Mousefur. “Come back to the camp when Bluestar gives the order to attack?”
“No,” Fireheart replied. “Tallstar seemed willing to meet Bluestar in peace, and if we’re lucky he’ll have only one or two warriors with him. It won’t come to a fight.”
“That’s a pretty big if,” mewed Mousefur with a skeptical flick of her tail. “What if WindClan assume the same thing, and set an ambush for us? We’d be crowfood.” Fireheart winced as she voiced Whitestorm’s own doubts about whether they could trust Tallstar.
“I’m not going,” Longtail announced loudly. “Let WindClan tear us apart? I’m not mouse-brained!”
Dustpelt, who was sitting next to him, turned his head and gave him a scorching look of contempt. “No, you’re a coward,” he meowed.
“I’m not!” Longtail’s protest was shrill. “I’m a loyal ThunderClan cat!”
“Fine, Longtail,” Fireheart broke in. “We don’t need every warrior to go. You can stay and guard the camp. And that goes for the rest of you,” he added. “If you don’t want to be part of this, stay here.” He waited tensely for his warriors’ response, looking around at their troubled faces in the dim light of the den.
“I’ll go,” meowed Whitestorm at last. “I think we can trust Tallstar not to fight, if there is an alternative.”
Fireheart shot him a grateful glance as the other warriors hesitated, murmuring to each other or shifting uncomfortably among the mossy bedding.
“I’ll go too.” Brackenfur sounded nervous to be the first to speak among so many older warriors.
“So will I,” mewed Dustpelt. His tail lashed once in Fireheart’s direction. “But if WindClan attack, I’ll fight. I’m not going to be clawed apart for any cat.”
The rest of the warriors joined in. To Fireheart’s surprise, Darkstripe agreed to go, while Mousefur refused.
“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” she meowed. “I think you’re talking sense, but that’s not the point. The warrior code isn’t something you stick to just when you feel like it. I don’t think I could disobey my leader if she ordered me to attack.”
“Well, I will go,” Brindleface asserted. “I don’t want to see my kits torn to pieces in a battle we don’t have to fight.”
“I’ll go too,” meowed Frostfur. Her gaze swept over the warriors around her as she added, “We don’t raise kits to fight in unjust battles.”
At last Fireheart had to face Sandstorm, who so far had said nothing. He could not imagine what he would do if she refused to support him.” Sandstorm?” he mewed hesitantly.
Sandstorm crouched with her head down, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll go along with you, Fireheart,” she muttered. “I know you’re right about the dogs—but I still hate lying to Bluestar.”
Fireheart moved to her side and gave her ear a quick lick, wanting to thank her, but she jerked her head away without looking at him.
“What about the apprentices?” Darkstripe asked. “Do you want them to come with us? Fernpaw’s too young to get involved.”
“I agree,” Dustpelt mewed swiftly.
For all his tension Fireheart had to suppress a purr of amusement to hear Dustpelt betraying the soft spot he felt for Darkstripe’s apprentice.
“I’d prefer to keep Brightpaw out of it,” meowed Whitestorm.
“But won’t Bluestar think there’s something odd if we don’t take any apprentices with us?” asked Brackenfur.
“That’s a good point.” Fireheart nodded at the young warrior. “Okay, we’ll take Swiftpaw and Cloudpaw. But only if Bluestar wants to take that many cats with her, and we’ll tell them what’s going on after we leave. The news will be all around the camp otherwise.”
Fireheart realized to his surprise that he had more warriors on his side than he needed. If Ravenpaw made it to the camp on time and Bluestar agreed to go and talk to Tallstar, it would seem odd if a whole fighting patrol of warriors offered to go with her. Besides, he didn’t want to leave the camp vulnerable to attack, especially now. “Why don’t Frostfur and Brackenfur stay to help guard the camp?” he suggested. “I am grateful for your support, but you may be needed here.”
Brackenfur and Frostfur exchanged a glance and then nodded.
“Now the rest of you had better get some sleep,” he continued. “We leave at moonset.”
He watched the warriors settle down in their bedding, but he did not join them. He knew he had no chance of sleeping, and he wanted to tell Cinderpelt what was going on before she heard it from any other cat. If it weren’t for his faith in Spottedleaf, he would have started to doubt long ago that he could stop this battle. There seemed to be so much that could go wrong: Ravenpaw might not bring the message in time; Bluestar might refuse to talk to Tallstar; WindClan might ambush them at Fourtrees….
Giving himself a shake, Fireheart emerged into the clearing. He glanced around for any sign of Ravenpaw, but the camp lay silent in the moonlight. A pair of eyes gleamed from the entrance to the gorse tunnel, and as Fireheart padded closer he made out the pale shape of Ashpaw, on guard.
“Do you know who Ravenpaw is?” he asked, and when the apprentice nodded, he went on: “He hasn’t been here tonight, has he?”
Looking puzzled, Ashpaw shook his head.
“If he comes,” Fireheart instructed him, “let him in, and take him straight to
Bluestar, okay?”
“Okay, Fireheart.” Ashpaw was clearly bursting with curiosity, but he didn’t ask any questions.
Fireheart nodded to him and went off to find Cinderpelt. Padding up to the medicine cat’s den, he saw her sitting outside, deep in conversation with Mousefur.
Both cats looked around at his approach.
“Fireheart?” Cinderpelt meowed, rising slowly to her paws. “What’s all this Mousefur is telling me? Why wasn’t I invited to the meeting?” Her blue eyes blazed with annoyance.
“It was just for the warriors,” Fireheart replied, though the explanation sounded feeble even to him.
“Oh, right,” mewed Cinderpelt dryly. “You thought I wouldn’t be interested in keeping secrets from Bluestar?”
