“Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf and taken my kits!” screeched Frostfur. The other queens rushed to Frostfur’s side and tried to calm her with licks and caresses, but Frostfur pushed them away and wailed her grief to the darkening sky. As if in reply, the sky rumbled ominously and a cold wind ruffled the cats’ fur.
“Yellowfang!” hissed Tigerclaw. “I always knew she was a traitor. Now we know how she managed to fight off the ShadowClan deputy. It was a setup to let her trick her way into our Clan!”
Lightning crackled overhead, punctuating Tigerclaw’s words with a glaring white flash, and a clap of thunder rolled around the woods.
Firepaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dazed with grief, his mind whirled. Could Yellowfang really have killed Spottedleaf?
Above the shocked murmurings, Darkstripe meowed loudly, “Bluestar! What do you say?”
The cats fell silent as they turned to look at their leader.
Bluestar’s gaze moved across the crowd of cats, and settled finally on Spottedleaf’s body. The first drops of rain began to fall, sparkling like dewdrops on the medicine cat’s still-glossy fur.
Bluestar blinked slowly. Grief clouded her face, and for a moment Firepaw was afraid that this new death would overwhelm her. But when her eyes opened they glittered with a fierceness that showed her determination to seek revenge for this cruel attack. She lifted her head. “If Yellowfang has killed Spottedleaf and stolen Frostfur’s kits, she will be hunted down without mercy.” The crowd meowed approvingly. “But we must wait,” Bluestar went on. “There is a storm coming, and I am not prepared to risk more lives. If ShadowClan has our kits, they will come to no immediate harm. I suspect Brokenstar wants them as recruits for his own Clan, or as hostages—to force us to let him hunt in our territory. As soon as the storm has passed, a patrol will follow Yellowfang and bring back our kits.”
“We cannot waste time, or the scent will be lost in the rain!” Tigerclaw protested.
Bluestar flicked her tail impatiently. “If we send out a hunting party now, our efforts will be wasted anyway. In this weather the scent will already be lost by the time we are ready. If we wait until after the storm, we stand a better chance of success.”
There were murmurs of agreement among the Clan. Even though it was barely sunhigh, the sky was growing much darker. The cats were unsettled by the lightning and thunder, and seemed willing to listen to their leader’s advice.
Bluestar looked at her deputy. “I’d like to discuss our plans with you, please, Tigerclaw.” Tigerclaw nodded and stalked away toward Bluestar’s den, but the leader hesitated. She glanced at Firepaw, signaling with a flick of her tail and a ripple of her whiskers that she wanted to speak to him alone.
The other cats gathered around Spottedleaf and began to share tongues with her, their wails of grief sounding above the thunder. Bluestar wound her way through them and went toward the fern tunnel that led to Spottedleaf’s den.
Firepaw quietly skirted the mourning cats and followed her inside. It was very dark beneath the ferns. The storm had blotted out the morning sun so that it seemed as if night had fallen. Rain was falling more heavily now, spattering noisily against the leaves, but at least it was sheltered in Spottedleaf’s clearing.
“Firepaw,” Bluestar meowed urgently as he arrived at her side, “where is Yellowfang? Do you know?”
Firepaw hardly heard her. He couldn’t help remembering the last time he had come to this clearing. An image of Spottedleaf, trotting out of her den with her coat gleaming in the sunlight, burned in his mind, and he closed his eyes to preserve it.
“Firepaw,” snapped Bluestar, “you must save your grieving for later.”
Firepaw shook himself. “I . . . I saw Yellowfang go through the camp boundary after the kits went missing. Do you really think she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits?”
Bluestar gazed steadily at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I want you to find her and bring her back—alive. I need to know the truth.”
“You’re not sending Tigerclaw?” Firepaw couldn’t help asking.
“Tigerclaw is a great warrior, but in this case his loyalty to the Clan may cloud his judgment,” Bluestar explained. “He wants to give the Clan the vengeance it desires. No cat can blame him for that. The Clan believes Yellowfang has betrayed us, and if Tigerclaw thinks he can reassure the Clan by handing them the dead body of Yellowfang, that’s what he will do.”
Firepaw nodded. She was right—Tigerclaw would kill Yellowfang without question.
Bluestar looked stern for a moment. “If I find that Yellowfang is a traitor, then I will kill her myself. But if she is not . . .” Her blue eyes burned into Firepaw’s. “I will not let an innocent cat die.”
“But what if Yellowfang won’t come back?” Firepaw meowed.
“She will, if you ask her.”
Firepaw felt stunned by Bluestar’s faith in him. The enormity of what she was asking him to do weighed down on him, and he wondered if he had enough courage to carry it through.
“Go at once!” she ordered. “But be careful; you will be on your own and there may be enemy patrols about. This storm will keep our own warriors in camp for a while.”
Thunder rolled overhead as Firepaw dashed out into the clearing. Rain hammered down, pelting against his fur like tiny stones. A bolt of lightning lit up the faces of Darkstripe and Longtail as they watched him cross the clearing.
Firepaw bounded past the nursery. He couldn’t leave without sharing tongues with Spottedleaf. The other cats had run for shelter, abandoning the medicine cat’s body to the downpour while they huddled beneath the dripping ferns, meowing their fear and loss.
Firepaw buried his nose in Spottedleaf’s wet fur and breathed in her scent one last time. “Good-bye, my sweet Spottedleaf,” he murmured.
His ears pricked as he overheard the voices of Frostfur and Speckletail talking nearby. He froze, straining to listen.
“Yellowfang must have had help,” Speckletail growled.
“Someone from ThunderClan?” came the anxious voice of Frostfur.
“You’ve heard what Tigerclaw’s been saying about Ravenpaw. Perhaps he had something to do with it. I’ve never felt comfortable with him, myself.”
The fur on Firepaw’s spine prickled. If Tigerclaw had been spreading his malicious rumors as far as the nursery, Ravenpaw wouldn’t be safe anywhere in the camp.
Firepaw realized he had to act quickly. He would find Yellowfang first, then deal with Ravenpaw. He raced to the spot where he had last seen Yellowfang. He knew her scent so well that he could even smell it through the rain-soaked leaves. He began to push through the bushes, mouth open, to detect where her trail led.
“Firepaw!”
Firepaw jumped and then relaxed as he realized it was Graypaw’s voice.
“I’ve been looking for you!” mewed his friend as he rushed toward him.
Firepaw gingerly stepped back out of the ferns.
Graypaw squinted as rain dripped down his long fur and into his eyes. “Where are you going?” he mewed.
“To look for Yellowfang,” Firepaw replied.
“On your own?” Graypaw’s broad gray face showed concern.
Firepaw thought for a moment and decided to tell Graypaw the truth. “Bluestar asked me to bring Yellowfang back,” he mewed.
“What?” Graypaw looked shocked. “Why you?”
“Maybe she thinks I know Yellowfang best, and that I’d find her more easily.”
“Wouldn’t a party of warriors stand more of a chance?” Graypaw pointed out. “Tigerclaw’s the best tracker in the Clan, and if anyone could bring her back, he could.”
“Maybe Tigerclaw wouldn’t bring her back,” Firepaw murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“Tigerclaw’s out for revenge. He would just kill her.”
“But if she killed Spottedleaf and took the kits . . .”
“Do you really believe that?” Firepaw asked.
Graypaw looked at his friend, shaking his head in confusion. “Do you think she’s innocent?” he mewed.
“I don’t know,” Firepaw admitted. “And neither does Bluestar. She wants to find out the truth. That’s why she’s sending me instead of Tigerclaw.”
“But if she ordered Tigerclaw to bring her back alive . . .” Graypaw’s words were drowned by a deafening crack of thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the trees around them.
In the dazzling light, Firepaw glimpsed Frostfur chasing Ravenpaw away from the nursery. The white queen’s face was twisted with fury as she hissed at the young black cat and lunged forward to give him a warning nip on the hind leg.
Graypaw turned to Firepaw. “What’s that all about?” he mewed.
Firepaw stared back at his friend, his mind leaping ahead to a new idea. It looked like Ravenpaw’s time had run out, and Firepaw needed Graypaw’s help. But would his friend believe him? The wind was beginning to roar through the trees above them, and Firepaw had to raise his voice. “Ravenpaw’s in great danger,” he meowed.
“What?”
“I have to get him away from ThunderClan. Right now, before anything happens to him.”
Graypaw looked puzzled. “Why? What about Yellowfang?”
“There’s no time to explain,” Firepaw mewed urgently. “You’ll just have to trust me. There must be a way we can get Ravenpaw away. Bluestar’s going to keep the warriors in camp till the storm is over, but that doesn’t leave us much time.” He tried to picture the hidden corners of the woods, beyond ThunderClan territory. “We’ll have to take him somewhere Tigerclaw won’t find him, somewhere he can survive without the Clan.”
Graypaw stared at him for a moment. “What about Barley?”
“Barley!” Firepaw echoed. “You mean, take Ravenpaw to the Twolegplace?” His ears twitched with excitement. “Yes, that might be the best idea.”
“Come on, then!” meowed Graypaw. “What are we waiting for?”
Relief washed over Firepaw. He should have known his old friend would help. He shook the rain from his head, then touched Graypaw’s fur with his nose. “Thank you,” he purred. “Now, let’s get Ravenpaw.”
They found their friend huddled miserably inside their den. Sandpaw and Dustpaw were in their nests, too, looking tense and scared as the storm crashed overhead.
“Ravenpaw,” Firepaw hissed through the entrance.
Ravenpaw looked up. Firepaw flicked his ears and the black cat followed him out into the storm.
“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 will tell him you are dead.”