“Look out!” Graystripe yowled, and even the two elders bounded forward, fur bristling, and hurled themselves onto the other side a heartbeat before the monster raced past.
Two larger groups crossed, leaving just one more. Only once they were safely over would Tallstar and Deadfoot cross. Morningflower and her kit stepped up to Fireheart’s side. Behind her trembled three very elderly cats.
“We’ll cross with you,” Fireheart meowed. He looked at Graystripe, who nodded. “Tell us when it’s safe to go, Graystripe.” Fireheart leaned forward to take Morningflower’s kit, but she pulled back, her ears flat. Fireheart looked deep into her frightened amber eyes and understood. She and her kit would live or die together.
“Now!” At Graystripe’s yowl, Fireheart and Morningflower stepped out onto the Thunderpath. The elders crept out behind them with Graystripe beside them. Time seemed to stand still as the elders hobbled slowly forward on stiff, battle-scarred legs. If a monster comes now, we’re all fresh-kill, Fireheart thought. The other side was still several rabbit leaps away.
“Come on,” urged Graystripe. The elders tried to hurry, but one stumbled, and Graystripe had to nose him back onto his paws.
Fireheart heard the distant roar of a monster. “Go on ahead!” he hissed to Morningflower. “We’ll bring the elders.”
Morningflower stumbled forward. Her kit squealed as it bumped against the hard ground. Fireheart and Graystripe pressed themselves against the elders’ scrawny bodies, nudging them forward. The noise of the approaching monster grew louder and louder.
Fireheart grabbed the nearest elder by the scruff of the neck and dragged him forward, before turning to haul the second closer to the verge. The monster raced closer.
Fireheart closed his eyes and braced himself.
There was a screech and an acrid smell that stung his throat, then a fading roar as the monster sped away. Fireheart opened his eyes and looked around. Graystripe was crouching in the middle of the Thunderpath, unscathed, but staring with eyes as wide as full moons. One elder cowered between them; the other two trembled near the verge. The monster was hurtling away from them, swerving across the Thunderpath. Thank StarClan! It had missed them all.
Fireheart took a shuddering breath. “Come on,” he meowed to the last elder. “Almost there.”
Tallstar bounded across with Deadfoot and gathered his trembling Clan around him on the verge.
Onewhisker touched Fireheart’s nose with his own. “You would have died for us,” he murmured. “WindClan will never forget that.”
Tallstar’s voice sounded behind them. “Onewhisker is right; we shall honor you both in our stories. We must keep going,” he continued. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
As the cats prepared to move off, Fireheart padded over to Morningflower. She was busy licking her kit.
“Is he all right?” Fireheart asked.
“Oh, yes,” answered Morningflower.
“What about you?” asked Fireheart.
Morningflower didn’t answer.
Fireheart turned to a gray queen, who answered his unspoken question. “Don’t worry,” she meowed. “I’ll take the kit next.”
The Clan followed the hedgerow along the Thunderpath before turning away to join the track through the woods. The scents here seemed to soothe the WindClan cats, but the journey had taken its toll; they were traveling slower than ever. And when they reached the fence at the far side, it took all Fireheart’s strength to help the weakest cats over.
The sun had passed its highest point by the time Fireheart spotted the Twolegplace in the distance. He sniffed the air hopefully but there was still no scent of Ravenpaw. Fireheart felt a stab of grief, and tried to ignore the nagging thought that he should never have sent his friend here alone.
Clouds billowed up over Highstones, growing blacker as they covered the sinking sun. A cold wind ruffled the cats’ fur, bringing the first drops of rain.
Fireheart looked at the WindClan cats. There was no way they could travel through a long, wet night. He was tired too, and, for the first time since he’d eaten Yellowfang’s herbs, he was feeling the effects of hunger. A glance at Graystripe told him that his friend felt the same way. The big gray warrior’s tail drooped, and his ears were flattened against the spattering rain.
“Tallstar,” Fireheart called. “Perhaps we should stop soon and shelter for the night.”
The WindClan leader stopped and waited while Fireheart caught up with him. “I agree,” he meowed. “There’s a ditch here; we can shelter in that until sunrise.”
Graystripe and Fireheart exchanged glances. “We might be better sheltering in the hedgerow,” Fireheart suggested. “There are rats in these ditches.”
Tallstar nodded. “Very well.” He turned to his Clan and announced that they would be spending the night here. The queens and elders flopped down at once, despite the rain, while the warriors and apprentices gathered to discuss hunting patrols.
Fireheart and Graystripe joined them. “I don’t know how good the hunting will be here,” Fireheart meowed. “There are too many Twolegs.”
Graystripe’s stomach growled as if in agreement. The other warriors turned to him with amused but sympathetic eyes. Then they froze as the grass behind them rustled. The WindClan warriors bristled and arched their backs, unsheathing sharp claws, but Fireheart and Graystripe turned their heads joyfully. The wind carried a scent as familiar as their own den.
“Ravenpaw!” Fireheart gasped as a sleek black cat emerged from the long grass.
Fireheart raced over to his old friend and nuzzled him. “Thank StarClan you’re safe!” he purred. He stepped back and studied Ravenpaw in surprise. What had happened to the skinny, scared black apprentice? This cat was plump and sleek, and his fur, usually so dull before, now shed the rain like a holly leaf.
“Firepaw!” Ravenpaw meowed in delight.
“Fireheart,” Graystripe corrected him. He stepped forward and touched noses with the black cat. “We’re warriors now! I’m Graystripe.”
“Do you know this cat?” snarled Deadfoot.
The hostility in his voice made Fireheart flinch. He looked at the bristling WindClan cats and silently cursed himself for calling Ravenpaw’s name out loud. He just hoped Tallstar’s warriors had been too distracted to hear it. If WindClan mentioned it at a Gathering, it would spread through the Clans like a forest fire. Ravenpaw was supposed to be dead!
“Is he a loner?” asked Onewhisker.
“He can help us find food,” Fireheart meowed quickly, glancing at Ravenpaw.
The black cat nodded. “I know all the best places to hunt around here!” he meowed. His fur didn’t even bristle beneath so many hostile gazes. How much he has changed! Fireheart thought.
“Why would a loner help us?” demanded Deadfoot.
“Loners have helped us before,” Graystripe told him. “Another loner once saved us from a rat attack near here.”
Ravenpaw stepped forward and bent his head respectfully as he addressed the WindClan warriors. “Let me help you! I owe my life to Fireheart and Graystripe, and if they’re traveling with you, then you must be friends.” He lifted his eyes and let his gaze rest on the WindClan cats. They returned his stare, more weary now than hostile. The rain was falling harder and, with their fur bedraggled, they looked skinnier than ever.
“I’ll go and find Barley,” Ravenpaw meowed. “He will help, too.” He turned and disappeared through the long grass.
Tallstar’s eyes burned with curiosity, but all he asked Fireheart was, “Can we trust him?”
Fireheart met Tallstar’s gaze. “Completely.”